Ptarmigan traverse (kind of)

I'm back from my trip to the North Cascades. 6 1/2 days in rugged (lots of topographic relief) and remote country. The only other people we saw during our entire outing was on the first half of the first day. The route we took zigzagged up and down above tree line between 4000 and 8500 ft. It crossed several glaciers and countless boulder, scree, and snow fields. It wound through multiple alpine meadows and high passes. I'm not sure how much distance we covered, but we know that during the last 1 1/2 days we traveled 33 miles. I'm guessing based on this that the total length was something like 70 miles. The route was essentially a backpacking trip which required some technical climbing skills. We threw in a summit (Dome Peak) for grins. We were on the "official" Ptarmigan route only the first three days. We were making good time and decided to split off from the Ptarmigan route onto a different route on the fourth morning. We expected the route change to add a day to a five trip. We used ice axes, crampons, and sometimes a rope for glacier travel. On our fourth day we encountered a 35 meter pitch of mid grade technical rock which ended up being the crux of the entire outing. Our third camp site must have had one of the most beautiful vistas I've ever seen.

The weather was variable, everything from clear blue sunny skies to fog and snow. We spent a couple of days mostly in the rain. On our fifth day the visibility was especially bad. We had to revert to map and compass for navigation and despite that we often found ourselves bushwhacking. On the fifth night it poured rain and on the sixth day it snowed. Jeff's feet hurt so much at the end of the sixth day that I had to stop where he was and make camp around him. On the seventh day we found ourselves sitting down every few minutes to rest our weary bodies. I walked barefoot at times on the last day because the boots hurt my feet so much. We saw marmots, bears, and ptarmigans. On the fifth day we found cougar tracks in the snow going up and then down a steep 6800 ft pass.

Despite the unpleseantries, it's a trip which I would do again. I thought the same even as I was hobbling along on the last day. Every time we crossed over a pass we had a new vista. It seemed like each one was more beautiful than the last one. I found myself looking forward to the next pass, just to see what might be on the other side. I also learned some good lessons about navigation in bad weather.

It was great to have Wayne along. A native Washingtonian and a very capable rock climber, he's been coming to these mountains ever since he was a boy. He nailed the crux pitch of the whole trip, a slabby, dirty, 35 meter upward traverse that we almost abandoned. I learned a good bit from watching him. It's very clear that he loves these places.

Wayne outfitted us for the trip, determining what provisions to take. We brought what initially seemed like too much food. On the route we ate all the time, snacking frequently along with the three normal meals. We ate the kinds of things that doctors warn you about: cookies loaded with butter, lots of different kinds of nuts, pancakes, something like 10 different kinds of cheeses. Although we were mostly on the route when there was daylight, we had frequent breaks. In part this was to provide time for snacking. Jeff and I loved it. We called it the "slow and fat" climbing style. It turned out to be just the right amount of food.

Often we encountered meadows of wild blueberries. There was a patch at our third camp. Like hungry bears, the three of us had hunched over and moved about the patch picking and eating delicious blueberries. We never missed a chance to pick a few berries when our route took us through a patch and often ate them as dessert. There were lots of water sources so we didn't carry much water. We'd often take sips directly from the streams we crossed.

Despite all the gorging I lost weight on the outing. When you can pig out and still lose weight, that's a great trip. See some of the photos here.

The house is being turned over to the renters tomorrow. It's all set to go. The remaining problems are: 1) The WRX hasn't sold; 2) I still don't have permanent plates for the van. Jeff is going to store the WRX for now. If it doesn't sell soon I'm going to lower the price. Apparently the van's title holder lost the title and they have to get a replacement. My last temporary permit expires on 9/12 so I'm ok until then.

Ann and I are taking a labor day weekend trip to the John Day area in north central Oregon. I'll be back in Corvallis at least on Monday of next week. I'm not sure what after that. Much depends on the state of the remaining problems.

Spend it like you're jobless

I'm off the the North Cascades in northern Washington for a week. Jeff, his friend Wayne (who I haven't met) and I are planning a week long ridge traverse called the Ptarmigan traverse. We're also throwing in a few peaks which lie near our route. I've climbed in the North Cascades once before (Forbidden Peak) and really enjoyed it. Good rock (relatively speaking), long, sometimes technical knife edge ridges, lots of exposure, alpine meadows, glaciers, wildlife, and remoteness. It's an area that seems to have a lot of the things I like in a climb.

I'm looking forward to the trip but I'm also a bit concerned about how much suffering I'll be in for. In terms of fitness, based on my Olympus trip I think I'll be fine. However, it seems like I always have some kind of foot and/or joint problem, especially on longer treks. Jeff (and others) finally convinced me to buy some new boots. I think they believe that my footwear is part of the problem. I can't in all honesty disagree. In addition, the leather backpacking boots I took to Mt Olympus were completely soaked after a day on snow and ice.

After some searching, I ended up buying the same model boot Jeff bought last year, which he's been very happy with (best pair of boots he's ever had is what he said). The boots were pricey but they fit well. They're also quite light relative to my plastic mountaineering boots. They are designed for technical alpine climbing. "Alpine" in climbing parlance generally means highly varied terrain, so they should be versatile boots. Although they're not plastics they are supposedly highly waterproof (Jeff confirmed this with his experience). This means they should be good for snow and ice. My plastics are warmer and stiffer, but that shouldn't matter much given the types of things I'll likely be doing over the coming year. Jeff, Cliff and I did a one day trip using my new boots to a nearby peak (Three Finger Jack). They aren't going to work any miracles, but they did well for a new pair of boots.

Unfortunately the new boots don't work with my old crampons (the metal sandals you strap on to boots so you can climb ice). So, I had to get new crampons as well. My old crampons have failed me in some fashion three times this year (most recently twice on the Mt Olympus climb). The plastic boots I have were also getting pretty worn and are held together in part with duct tape. Maybe it was time for new climbing boots and crampons regardless of any foot / joint troubles.

As I mentioned in my last entry Jenny Davis found some good tenants for the house. She's done a great job, much better than what I would have done (yes, I know, that's not saying much). She thought of all kinds of things that I never would have even considered. Anyhow, if you ever need someone to manage your rental property give her a ring. It's been wonderful not having to worry at all about finding tenants. Now all I need to do is get out of the house.

The WRX is up for sale. $12,400 (blue book value) or best offer if anyone's interested. It's had regular servicing and I recently took care of some minor things. A very fun to drive yet practical and reliable car.

I got the van back from having a mechanic look it over. The only things they found were that the front brake pads were near their end of life and the front brake rotors were worn down pretty far. I went ahead and had the pads and the rotors replaced. Compression on all cylinders was good (within spec) and well matched. This indicates that the engine internals are in good shape. I'm getting the impression from various sources that I'll need to check the oil pretty regularly. It seems that these engines, even when they're in good condition, consume oil.

I almost forgot to mention the biggest expense of the week. I picked up a new laptop. HP kept my work laptop so I went out and bought one. I went with a small (13" screen) Apple MacBook. I used Apples in college, and also at NASA. Although I've gotten very used to Windows, I think Macs still have the best operating system on the market. The current OS is actually an open source Unix variant. It's a smart move on the part of Apple. Unix has always been known for its reliability and security. The fact that it's open source means that Apple saves a lot of money on expensive OS development. A nice bonus feature of the newer Macs is the ability to run Windows and Windows based applications natively.

That's it for now. Next entry will be once I'm back from the North Cascades.

Mt Olympus & Ho River

I'm back from my visit to Olympic national park in Washington. I went half intending to climb Mt Olympus, the highest point in the range. The summit is pretty remote, something like 20 miles and 7500 feet of elevation gain from the nearest parking lot. I spent the first day hiking in along the Ho River. Just the hike itself is very pretty. The trail runs through an old growth rain forest. Huge trees (some of the biggest in the world), moss, and all kinds of plants growing everywhere. It seems very primitive and ancient somehow. There are a number of impressive waterfalls and a crossing over a deep gorge along the trail.

The second day I headed out for the summit. I hadn't really seen much of the mountain until I got about a mile out from camp. I crested the top of a ridge of rubble and then I saw it. It was spectacular. The other side of the ridge dropped down steeply onto the Blue Glacier. Most of the glacier was bare, blue ice, with lots of crevasses. Further up the glacier were massive ice falls, flowing their way around pinnacles of rock 1000 ft or more in height. At the top of the ice falls was a relatively flat and very large snow field with more rock pinnacles sticking out the top. I figured one of them must be the summit. Unfortunately my camera decided not to work (I now own three non-functional digital cameras) so I didn't get any photos. Check out this link for other's photos of what I saw.

Crossing the glacier solo was a bit intimidating. It took some will to convince myself that each step would not result in my breaking through the roof of a crevasse and falling into its bottomless pit. Once I actually got on the glacier I felt better. Still, the thought of falling into a crevasse was something I had to keep beating back, sometimes before each and every step I took. Whether or not such fear was warranted I don't know. Some times I saw features in the ice which suggested I was overreacting but some times I saw features which suggested the opposite. I was constantly on the look-out for any signs of a weak surface, often poking with my ice axe to test surfaces before putting my weight on them. If nothing else it served to convince myself that I was being safe. Soon enough I was across the glacier and on to the next part of the climb.

The next part was a long, pleasant slog up relatively gentle snow slopes to the top of what is called Snow Dome (see photos at the link). The top of Snow Dome is a relatively flat snow field with multiple pinnacles poking out of it. I could understand now why Mt Olympus is properly referred to as a massif. Olympus is basically a huge mound of snow and ice with a few pinnacles of rock jutting out the top of it. It reminded me of some of the pictures I've seen of Antarctica. A landscape of snow with the occasional rock tower poking out. The valleys below had filled with fog making it easy to believe that everything below me was snow and ice. At some point during past ice ages it probably was.

The next phase of the climb involved crossing the snow field to reach the bottom of the pinnacle. Here I had a problem. I didn't know which pinnacle was the highest. I had brought some pages copied out of a guide book with me, but much of their route description didn't make sense to me. Access to the peak which looked to be the highest was blocked by bergschrunds (a type of large crevasse). It looked like I could cross a snow bridge over one of the bergschrunds, move through a narrow pass, and get around to the backside of the pinnacle. I was thinking that maybe the backside would offer better options.

After moving through the pass more pinnacles came into view. I was less sure that I had picked the tallest pinnacle now. I decided to stick with the original pinnacle. It didn't matter to me if it really was the summit or not. More slogging through the snow and I got to the base of the pinnacle. What I could see of the pinnacle looked rather technical and exposed. Here, as at the glacier crossing, I had to spend some time convincing (deluding?) myself into believing that it was safe to try the pinnacle. After getting within 100 feet of the top and trying various lines I decided to stop trying. The up climbing itself was not hard for me. My main concern was being able to climb down what I was going up. As with ladders and trees, down climbing is always harder than up climbing. I was carrying no rope so rapelling was not an option. After giving myself a few good scares I decided I had had enough and came down for good. By this time some clouds had moved in and completely obscured the view of the pinnacle. Somehow it made my abandonment of the pinnacle attempt easier to accept. I followed my path back down Snow Dome. On my way down I passed three climbers heading up. They were the only other people I'd seen since leaving camp.

Before reaching the edge of the Blue Glacier I stopped for a while and admired the view. I was at about the same level as the ice falls, where they flowed around some rock spires. It's always hard to convey the sense of scale which these landscapes generate when seen in person. They more than fill your field of view. Their sounds surround you completely. Here a giant sheet of ice fell, I'd guess over 1000 feet, to the Blue Glacier below. Within the flow of ice, and within the ice fall itself, stood giant (at least several hundred feet tall) rock spires. The spires were resistant to the ice's flow, yet over the eons the ice had carved and formed the rock into their current shapes.

Seeing such things makes it pretty clear that people, despite all of our achievements, are still very much at the mercy of good old mother nature. Any city in the world would be wiped off the map by a process of this scale, let alone the scales on which these processes currently operate at in places like Antarctica. The ice is like a giant pencil eraser acting on the surface of the earth. Once the eraser is done you can tell that something has been erased, but there's no clue as to what was there before.

All too soon it was time to start moving again. I noticed fog creeping up the glacier I was about to cross. At some point, while crossing the glacier, I was no longer able to see either edge of the glacier. In every direction there was just ice and fog. It was a bit creepy, kind of like losing sight of shore. It was too bad I had left the compass which the group of engineers I used to manage had given me back at my house. I continued on and reached the far edge. However, I couldn't find the trail back up the rubble pile. I couldn't even find the rubble pile. I zigzagged along the edge of the glacier, first downstream then upstream, at times trying to push further into the rocks. The visibility had gotten worse. A couple of times I had to beat back a sense of panic before I finally found the trail. It turns out I had initially landed just downstream of it. 30 minutes later I was back at camp and the idea of panic seemed silly. The next day I hiked back out the way I had come in.

The van and the modifications worked great. The gas gauge seems to be inaccurate, but not enough to make me fix it. I've decided to go ahead and add an inverter into the secondary power circuit. They're pretty cheap for my wattage needs and they include battery under / overcharging detection and protection circuitry. Of course, the best part is that they allow you to power anything that plugs into a standard wall socket.

I'm off for a couple of days to Crater Lake with a bunch of friends. I think most are biking around the lake. I haven't decided what I'll be doing but there are a lot of options in the area. Jenny has found some good tenants. The lease has been signed. I need to find out about the status of the WRX tomorrow. I expect to be mostly at home for at least the next week or so. Beyond that I can't say.

Vic

Van is ready

The van is ready for it's first trip. I installed a second battery to power the radio, interior lights, and anything connected to a cigarette lighter. The second battery is charged when the engine is running. I also bought a 12 watt solar cell array to help provide power on the secondary electrical power system. The bike rack has been installed and I figured out a way to connect my iPod to the car stereo. Most importantly, after spending half a day on it, I got a piece of paper which says I can legally drive the van. I still need to make a roof mount for the solar array, but I figure it's time for a trip. I'm going to head up to the Olympic mountains in Washington for a few days.

The house cleaning is going well. I'm to the point where I need to get the garage cleared up so I can store my stuff in there. Jenny Davis (Chris's wife) is doing a good job finding renters. Last I heard there's at least one party who definitely wants it.

The WRX is at the Subaru dealer to get some safety recall stuff fixed. After that it's off for a new windshield. The current one is cracked beyond what I think the legal limits are. I also ordered a new skid plate to replace the current one, which is all bent up. That's my third skid plate on this car.

I'll miss the WRX, especially when I'm puttering up some long steep mountain pass in an overloaded and severely underpowered van. It's a very fun car, especially for the money. Unfortunately it doesn't make sense to let it sit around for a year, so it's got to go. Ann thinks I'm selling it just to have a good excuse to buy a new car in a year.

I'll write another post when I get back from the Olympics.

More van photos here.