Denali this weekend

Great post Cody!!

You're definitely kicking my butt in terms of working out... but I've been running, doing P90X Plyometrics and Yoga ("Best downward dog of your life...") and plan to climb Sable Mountain this weekend up in Denali National Park. We're staying at Teklanika campground and I wanted to find a closer hike to maximize my chance of seeing McKinley early in the morning before the clouds move in. Thanks Google Earth for allowing me to scope out the lay of the land before heading up there.

Sable Mountain with Mt. McKinely in the distance. Hopefully I'll be able to add a real photo after the weekend. 

-Patrick

Bird Ridge, Chugach State Park, AK

The UW School of Medicine graciously decided to send me to Anchorage for my OB/Gyn rotation so that I could train for climbing Mt. Rainer. Killer.

Over the first weekend of the rotation, I ventured south of Anchorage with my classmate, Travis Pecha, to climb Bird Ridge, a hike that I'm told is a favorite among the locals.

The 2.5 mile one-way hike starts at sea level and peaks at about 3400 feet (aka, straight the f*** up).

In lieu of my boot debacle at Lake 22 (see earlier post) and the fact that I've been pumping money into alpine gear, I regret to write that I was ill-prepared in regards to footwear for this adventure. Although I considered a few pairs of hiking boots from REI, Craigslist and even the local Sportsman Warehouse, I still hadn't found the right set up (basically looking for something waterproof, mid to high top, with a heel welt for my crampons just in case and not too expensive).

So, on the morning of the hike I had a choice to make.

Behind door number one were my old running shoes: sure, they took me across the finish line of my first (and only) marathon, but that was nearly 2 years ago. Plus they're about as impervious to water as cotton socks.

Behind door number two were my Koflach plastics alpines boots. Did I really feel like lugging 10 pound boots up the gravel hill? Rhetorical question, don't answer. I didn't. Plus they're built much more for snow and ice.

Behind door number three were my Romeos. Ah, my trusty Where-For-Art-Thou's. They're comfortable, they're leather and waterproof, they've got a bit of a toe lip that I was sure could handle my semi-auto crampons. Oh yeah, and they're completely flat soled and without any sole grips.

Easy decision, right?

Tossing on my Romeos and strapping up my alpine back filled with all my gear (most of it), I set out to summit our esteemed Bird Ridge.

View to the south looking up Turnagain Arm of Cook Inlet

Things actually weren't too bad initially - other than the fact that snowshoeing all winter does not prepare one for vertical trial hikes. Travis - in his light weight Sportiva trail-running shoes and small backpack - was kicking my butt up the hill. But that's ok, the tortuous and the hair, right?

Wrong.

Snow! I'm used to this!

There were a few patches of snow - bigger than the one above - that I attempted to cross. With the slick-bottom Romeos - which held about as much traction as cast-iron pan cooking bacon - I felt flat on my face twice before deciding to put on the crampons. 

Perfect, the heels are too wide. Like 40% of Americans, my Romeos were too fat in the rear - the crampons wouldn't fit.  

Looking south into the Bird Valley 

Looking across Turnagain Arm at the Kenai Mountain Range

The false summit of Bird Peak

Instead, with each step I was forced to kick deep into the snow to prevent falling on my ass while attempting to refrain from shouting vulgarities at the passing trail runners who sped by me in Nikes, eyeing my 40-pound alpine pack with looks of frank bewilderment. Shuddup, I'm training! 

Looking north toward Powerline Pass and Suicide Peak

At that point, Travis had already made it up past the false summit to the true summit at 3400 feet. I estimate that my ascent brought me to about 3000 feet - not bad for wearing my Montagues and sliding all over the place.

Penguin Peak, south of Bird Ridge

-Patrick

Link to Bird Ridge details from Alaska State Trails Program: http://dnr.alaska.gov/parks/aktrails/mapguides.htm 

Week off

Decided to take a week off from training and do some rehab. Of course I couldn't completely waste an entire week so I decided to do some aerial surveillance over our climbing area (on my way to Cabo San Lucas)

Looking NE, you can see part of our route, by Gibraltor Rock

Todays Forecast: Questionable, with a chance of shitty

"Hey guy, what'd you hear about the weather today?"...

I asked the British man ski touring past us.

"Well mate, it's not supposed to be that bad. Not supposed to be that good, either," he said, the thick ascent spitting through his gnarly British teeth.

Yesterday Cody and I attempted Mt. Rainier for the first time. Our goal was Camp Muir. Like most of our adventures this year, sometimes we don't know what we're doing because we're novice to this thing called mountaineering. Sometimes we're just idiots. Yesterday was a bit of both.

The adventure began at Paradise, 5400 ft in altitude. I had assigned myself the task of navigator, credentialed by reading the Navigation chapter from The Freedom of the Hills. Good thing I found that NPS bearings pdf because it was a complete white out the whole time, save for 10 minutes when the sun came out to illuminate the fact that we were self-belaying up a 60 degree slope of soft snow in snowshoes.

Map before the trip

Map after the trip (yeah, I had to pull in out a few times).

But that's getting ahead. First I led us to Alta Vista West, following a compass bearing of 330.5 degrees mag. Through a break in the trees we found a shoot toward Marmot Hill there encountering a group of three ski touring up toward Muir. We followed their tracks for awhile toward Panorama point. They decided to go right up the face, taking off their skis and hoofing it. We stayed left, following a small ridge out of the deep powder onto some firmer ground. Up ahead there was a patch of trees piercing through the snow just below the tree line.

"Left or right?" I asked Cody, whose look of bewilderment shouted I don't know but screamed Fuck off.

"Left."

Thus our adventure up the previously mentioned west slope of Panorama Point began.

Cody trekking like a boss.

The best view of the day, before his face got sunburned (a picture of that to come!). 

There we met back up with the skiers, and again followed their tracks bearing 12.5 degrees toward McClure Rock. To our left we briefly saw the steep rocks jetting through the snow as they lined the east side of the Nisqually. Climbing up toward Sugar Rock the snow started to get firmer; we decided to throw on the crampons and stayed right of the snow field, leaving a ridge between ourselves and the Paradise Glacier. It was good to finally get some crampon / ice ax work in.

Our excitement was short-lived, however, as the white out returned - luckily after we had hustled across a small avalanche shoot. With the white out came the deep powder. Envious of the skiers and frustrated with the heavy snowshoes, we stomped through the snow, only occasionally glimpsing long "ridges" in the hues of white that ended up being nothing more than a large mound of snow, probably sitting on some natural variation in the mountain face.

From there Cody scaled a snow wall in crampons, cutting through the snow down four or five feet. I made it left, coming up the side of the snow mound to meet Cody's tired body at the top.

That's when the wind started.

We walked for awhile, keeping the rocks on our right. Again we came upon the skiers, skiing down towards us and making way for "hot chocolate" in the car. After six hours of hiking, white out conditions and nobody else on that area of the mountain, it was time to eat lunch and head back. Thank goodness I had paid extra for 2 day shipping for my down coat ordered from SteepandCheap - oh wait, it took 4 days and was waiting on the doorstep after returning from our day at Rainier.

The return trip wasn't without memorable moments. Getting down the face of Panorama Point proved the most exciting. Since there was no way I was going to navigate us back down the same slope we came up, I figured we'd try to get down the same way the skiers got up. I found their path, but it ended and so I decided to work on glissading and self arrest skills. Everything was going well until the snow turned to ice and the small snowballs being kicked off my snowshoes started diving over a ledge like lemmings. It was quickly time to descend, being quite careful with the ice ax to get a solid self-belay.

West of Panorama point with Nisqually Glacier on right

MSR ice ax, given to me by my dad

As I suspected, we found our snowshoe tracks at the bottom, were earlier in the day we'd turned west and found our slope. The trek down the hill became easy at that point. Of course, it was still snowing and visibility was poor. Not to mention my beard contained a combination of ice, snot and tomato sauce from my pasta lunch.

Who said surgeon shouldn't have beards. I don't play for the Yankees.

I call this one the "Freddy Mercury"

Regardless, 3000 feet of gain up to 8400 feet (estimated). A successful first trip to Mt. Rainier, even if we're a bit stupid at times.

-Patrick