Steck-Salathé

I was starting to see red. My face was wet from a combination of sweat and tears and I felt as though I was trying as hard as I possibly could to make upward progress. I turned my head and then felt a small sense of panic. My head was stuck. My rapid breath was echoing off the walls that enclosed me, and I could hear my heart beating. My knees were pressed against the walls and my backpack was hanging off an alpine draw between my legs, acting as an anchor while I tried to move up. I needed to take my helmet off. A scream of anger came from below me. My companion, my brother in the trench, was going through the same pain as me. Once I unclipped my helmet, I took my head out of it and saw it there, wedged in between the walls like a chalkstone. "This is completely fucked," I declared. Another scream of anger echoed up the chasm. 

24 hours earlier... 

We were plotting in the visitor center parking lot. We had a tarp on the ground with all of our gear laid out upon it. Classic. The pysche of being in the valley was lingering in the air amongst us. This was it, we were doing the Yosemite thing. But in my chest, I was terrified. 

Many times over the course my partnership with Matthew, he would state that, "everything I do is to train for offwidth," more specifically to train for the Steck-Salathé, a life goal of his. So when we finally made it down to the valley it was put high on the to-do list to give this route a go. After a decent spanking on the south face of the Washington Column I was left feeling quite out of place in the valley and felt unconfident with my abilities there. But we were in the valley after all, how could I pass up an opportunity to climb such an amazing line. 

1600 feet of wide brilliance, the perfect route for those who crave adventure and vertical "5.9++" wide cracks. I am writing about this outing to share photos of this route, as it is a truly stunning line that ascends a beautiful piece of rock, but more so to highlight the performance of my two partners who I climbed this route with. Since we climbed in a party of 3, we decided to fix and follow so we could move faster. I was the top rope solo princess this day.

I always feel some nervousness prior to climbing something big, but when it came to this route it was an exhilarating fear that loomed in the air. The committing nature of the route, the never ending pitches of wide climbing and ultimately the infamous "Narrows" made this route seem exceptionally challenging, and not to mention that it would be the biggest thing that any of us had climbed before. Henry, our other friend we were climbing with down there seemed to share a similar feeling about the route as I, and during numerous "chilling sessions" in the visitor center parking lot we both would tell Matthew how terrified we were to get on this thing. But Henry is down for the adventure, and so if both of my friends are psyched then I should be too. 

Alarms were going off at 3 and we were on the trail at 4:20. The sun rise took a little longer than we realized it would have so when we arrived to the base of the route it was still dark. Matthew racked up and commenced our journey into the wide world. 

The boys on the early mornin trail

Matthew on P1

Lots of grunting followed by a whip at the top and a dropped approach shoe set the tone for what would be a challenging ascent. While Matthew rapped down the fixed line to look for his shoe, I belayed Henry up the next pitch. Luckily the shoe was found, and we proceeded up the route. 

The Wilson Overhang 

The Wilson Overhang, described in the book and on mountain project as one of the Cruxes of the route. I was struggling hard already, and when I arrived to the belay, Matthew was racking up. "this is hard ass climbing," I explained to my partners. Matthew looked up and said, "yea, but now you can hang out and watch me thrutch up this thing." 

Matthew working hard in the Wilson overhang

After lots of grunting and commotion, our brave and courageous rope gun got the rope up there so that we could then thruch and struggle our way up there. Henry got belayed up, then fixed my rope. When I arrived to the anchor Henry was questing up the 4th pitch. His strategy was to avoid the 5.9 squeeze which mountain project describes as "absolutely horrendous" and "possibly the crux of the route", and instead went with the rated R 5.8 flake that is out right. 

Unfortunately I did not see him climb this part, as I was still in the Wilson overhang negotiating passage. However, I should say that I was a very impressive lead as well! While Matthew followed up it he barn-doored off the mountain while attempting to get into the flake. It was a fun pitch. 

The next pitch I found to be a true test of my wide climbing abilities. Matthew was far up this next pitch witch half his body in a crack when I arrived at the belay. "Ah yea, thats great," I said to Henry. I soon found myself, trying as hard as I could to get up this pitch. Using all the wide techniques I knew. 

Matthew in the wide on p6

The next pitch was Henry's, and he quested up a gnarly, broken dihedral that didn't have the most comforting rock, however I still found the pitch to be pretty fun to follow. When I arrived at the belay, Matthew was off looking for the rappel chains so we could rap off whats called the Flying Buttress and down to the beginning of rest of the route. This was perfect, an opportunity to express my fears to Henry. "Dude this is gnarly." I told him. "Ive been terrified all day, and Ive just been on TR solo!" He looked at me, "Yea dude this is pretty hard stuff. I'm sort of glad theres some weather coming in later this week because I might be done after this," he said. "Yea same. I'm glad to be helping Matthew complete a life goal, but I just wanna climb in Lolo," I told him. We laughed about our situation. It was nice to have Henry there to share the fear with. 

Rapping off the Flying Buttress and to the beginning of p7

Matthew working his way up p7

Pitch 7 felt like the crux of the route for me. The wideness was actually soul crushing, and I fell off several times scrapping my way up the thing. Brutal. The next pitch I found to be very fun, however would have been a very full on lead. Nice work Henry! 

Matthew strapping in to lead p9

If Matthew was scared at all, he showed no fear. Pitch 9, which is graded 5.10b, was another stem chimney, with gear available in the WAY back of it. A very good lead. This pitch was also fun to follow, however, the heavy backpack really made chimneying quite difficult. This pitch lead us to the elephant of the route, The Narrows. 

The dread I felt for having to go up this pitch is unmatched to any thing I have ever climbed. I believe Henry felt the same way. Matthew however was in a different zone, with a serious look on his face. At the anchors he had a snack, then declared that he needed to just get in there. "Ok watch me, because I might come screaming out of this thing." He placed a #5 in the opening above the belay, then began crawling into the hellish seeming hole above our heads. 

Feet in search for anything to push off of 

A hilarious photo

He made it in there, and with little to no complaints. Every now and then we would hear some commotion come firing out from above us, but he worked his way up that thing quickly, and with style. It wasn't long before we heard, "off belay!" Now it was our turn. When I heard that my rope was fixed, I stared upwards. Getting into the chasm was very difficult, and I believe I had to yard on the #5 to get myself established in there. The heavy pack hanging from my harness was not help whatsoever. I tried to keep calm and not think about how much I hate caves and extremely tight spaces, but it wasn't long before I started to melt down. My helmet got stuck and for a bit I couldn't move my head until I finally unclipped it from my head and clipped it to my harness. Another thing to make my upward progress as challenging as possible. 

Henry soon stared up below me and was also having difficulties due to his backpack. "I cant move!" He shouted. It was bleak in the narrows. I can only imagine that Matthew was up at the belay cracking up while we shouted and screamed from inside the chasm. Lots or grunting, pulling on ropes and backpacks lead us to freedom. I emerged covered in sweat, breathing heavily with teary eyes. Matthew was sitting at the belay, looking tired with a smirk on his face. "You are a maniac," I told him. "That was an insane lead man." 

From this pitch I hopped off the TR solo rig and took the rack to lead us up a 5.7 chimney pitch, that I complained about when in it, however looking back it was a really fun pitch. We were getting close to the top now. Matthew took the rack and lead us up another heartbreaker wide pitch that was very difficult. I am pretty sure he linked the two? 

When I arrived at the belay he looked spent. He looked at me and recited a famous Mugs Stump quote that we had been laughing about the day prior. "Alright man, we all know I can lead this last pitch. It's time for you to take the reigns." I took the rack and punched it for dear life up the final pitch. A scrambly section lead to a short 5.6 corner that allowed us escape of the Sentinel rock. A glorious top out. 

Summit cigarette

summit proper 

The descent was a whole other adventure. Initially we were planning to bivy on top of the Sentinel rock, however decided to punch it for the car after topping out. My headlamp, as well as Matthews, ran out of battery and we were using our phone flashlights to navigate the descent. Lots of bushwhacking, bug eating, and falling passed before we made it to the trail and eventually the car. 

After this climb I was feeling very burnt out. It was a massive day, and the entire time I felt an unusual amount of fear even though I TR solo'd pretty much the whole route. Looking back on it, it was certainly one of the best climbs I have ever been on. It was awesome to watch Matthew and Henry swap leads and get us up some incredible and challenging pitches. I would like to go back some day and climb it again as I feel like I need to give it another shot. 

Spray

*This is a write up about a climb I did over a year ago, when my mind was in a much different place. This climb its self is not by any means a complex or difficult route, however it is the most "real" thing I feel like I have solo'd and I have been processing and thinking about this day for a long time. So because of the impact it had on me, and the very memorable experience I had, I felt as though it deserved some sort of write up. That being said, I do feel slightly hypocriticalI because I believe that the worst kind of climber is one that sprays about their moderate free solos on social media to look cool. 

August, 2025

I sat perched on the ramp directly across from my proposed objective staring at it, breaking it down. The air was hazy from a fire that was burning near the canyon and I took big deep breaths of the smoky haze, trying to calm the nerves and ease my mind. This was something I had been thinking about for a long time. Ever since I had heard tale of Missoula climbers doing it, I had been inspired. Then, during an incredible summer in the Sierra I began to consider this outing as something that was within my realm. I breathed in deeply, music blasted in my ear. 

"I don't lie, I don't lie, I don't lie, I don't lie, I don't lie, I don't lie, I don't lie, I don't lie, awake at night, for a good time, because its fun."

I wasn't listening to inspiring music. I was listening to what would fuel a fire that had been burning for a long time. While I sat perched in the dirt staring, I wondered, was I there because this was something I was truly psyched to do, or was it something I was doing because I was lashing out. Upon returning to Missoula, life dealt me cards I was forced to play. Angry at the world and circumstances I couldn't change, walking ball of rage, being followed by a dark cloud. One that had been hovering and consuming me for weeks. I needed an outlet. So I went to the mountains. 

"I don't bet on the horses anymore, keeping away from the on I rode in on. Is something burning here, or is it me? Is something burning here, or is it me? Is something burning here, or is it me? 

My music raged on. Feeling anxious I realized that I just needed to get up and do this thing. I rose from my perch and didn't look up at it any more, instead I watched my feet as they levitated above the ground and carried me to what I had deep down been longing to do. 

At the base, I tried to ease my breathing. My heart was racing, a mixture of nervousness and excitement. At the big ledge that marks the beginning of the route I swapped my approach shoes for the rock shoes and took big deep breaths while I fastened my chalk bag to my waist and put my backpack on. Excitement flowed through my veins. Like a child standing in front of a forbidden door, the door he had been told never to open. 

"Don' tell me how to do my job, Don' tell me how to do my job, Don' tell me how to do my job, Don' tell me how to do my job. Maybe the sun waits for you be shown what to do. " 

I put on a fitting song, chalked up, then stepped onto the ledge that leads left and around the arete. Tip-toeing my way, slowly out until I could slip my hand into the crack on the face. That was it, the door was open. All my fears, all my rage and angst melted away and was replaced with a strange sort of calmness. A calmness that did not make me feel relaxed but instead hyper focused and aware. Hands feet, hands feet, not a single other thing in the world mattered more than where my hands and feet were, where my balance was, what I was grabbing and stepping on. I fell into the familiar rhythm of climbing on that first pitch, asides from stopping to place gear. Excellent crack climbing on good rock, what could be better. 

It wasn't long before I reached the anchor of the first pitch. In fact, that went too quickly I thought. Standing by all the anchor tat, I took a breath and looked up at the next pitch. I knew what was coming. Choosing not to stay there too long, I set off on the rest of my voyage. Slowly tip-toeing my way up and out right. I could now feel the exposure, like some strange sixth sense. There was nothing but open air below me, and between my feet, a total void of blurred out trees, dirt and rock. 

Music was still blasting in my ears, but I couldn't hear anything. The only sound that seemed to be happening on earth was the sound of my heart beating. I had successfully arrived at the crux, which is small roof pull in a little dihedral. While thinking about executing this move I realized I didn't have any other choice, because to fail was to die. I stemmed my feet on to small edges then grabbed onto a small ledge with my left hand. Then I reached up and jammed my right hand into a crack. Carefully, I moved my foot up to the same little ledge that my left hand was on and delicately stepped up and moved my hand from the ledge and grabbed onto a good hold above me. A wave of excitement flowed through me and I felt as though I were on some other planet, one were gravity was not of nature.

I climbed up to a good stance and really took account for where I was. 300 feet off the deck, untethered from the earth and separated from all the burdens, all the troubles and pain that is included in real life. I was free. Between my feet was a ramp of rock leading to the distant ground, and beyond that was the creek on the valley floor. To the waves I must have been nothing more than a speck, protruding on the canyon wall, inching my way up towards the top. To the sun and the sky, I was a beggar, pleading for answers.

The rest of the route is scrambley brilliance, with short sections of steep crack climbing. It wasn't long before I could see the open door at the top. The exit. It was there that I would shed my feeling of freedom and bliss and return to the real world. I pulled over the last little lip and was standing on the top, next to the big block I would normally sling for the last anchor. All my emotions and feelings that I had left at the base of the route were waiting up top for me and they grasped me and began to slowly disperse throughout my body. It was then that I was once again a part of the real world. 

Country Jungle

This summer I had the pleasure of tagging along with Justin Willis and Mack Moore to film their attempts and success on their near decade long project Country Jungle. The route climbs an impressive line up the Flathead Buttress in Blodgett canyon and is one of two routes on the face that goes free. 

Video Link: 

COUNTRY JUNGLE FILM

Some Photos from the process

Aid Anchors

Bugaboos I

 

Bugaboos I

~ It was truly a pleasure to be able to get to spend a week exploring the Bugaboos. Everything about this place blew me away and really its hard to put into words what this trip meant to me. It felt like the accumulation of every skill and experience I've gained over these past years climbing and spending time in the mountains, and even then it pushed me beyond what I realized I was capable of accomplishing. I found myself  reflecting on the past year of my life and on where the mountains fit in to it. I thought about the climbing partners and friends I've gained through the sport, and the overall pursuit of alpine climbing and how it has shaped the person I have grown to be. For longer than I have known, being in the mountains has been an outlet, a place to escape, to run to for solitude. They've provided a canvas for which I could throw myself at, throw everything I have at. It has been a medium between me and myself, a proving ground to the other half. It's a place where I can channel my energy into something creative, something adventurous. Its where I find my mind can truly run free ~

In search of great adventure, we headed for the mountains. The big mountains. 

The Bags 

The Bugaboo Glacier Ice Fall 

Matthew enjoying a Sneaky Weasel while the storm rages 

We arrived to the Applebee camp after the storm settled. Feeling intimidated, inspired. The surrounding peaks were engulfed in cloud adding to the mystic of the environment we had entered. Once our camp was built we turned in, not sure of what the next day would hold. 

I : The Pigeon Spire, West Ridge

Matthew on the approach to the Pigeon spire, below the vast and inspiring east face of the Snowpatch Spire

Approaching the Pigeon Spire 

Questing across the Bugaboo Glacier- south face of Snowpatch, proudly in the background

Questing across the Bugaboo Glacier- south face of Snowpatch, proudly in the background

The approach was full of awes and oos, as we were blown away by what was around us. Ice fall and shrieks could be heard from the surrounding glaciers as well as rock fall from distant and near peaks. We slogged up the glacier and to the Pigeon Col where we took off the mountain boots and began up the classic west ridge of the Pigeon Spire- "The best 5.4 on planet Earth."

The Throne of Thrones 

Myself (taking a photo of the Snowpatch spire) with the magnificent Howser Towers behind me

Matthew approaching the next section of the route

Inching up the West Rdige 

A crew on the summit

Matthew Psyched about the Howsers

Pigeon Spire East face and the Howsers- as seen from the Snowpatch summit

I told Matthew at some point during this trip that I think the Pigeon Spire East Face is one of the most beautiful formations Ive ever seen in nature. The clean, low angle slab provides structure for the steep and imposing headwall which acts like a doorway into something wild and curious. Gorgeous splitter cracks shoot across tis face, with fractured pieces of rock and large flakes resting precariously, patiently waiting their turn to fall to the glacier below. All the while this part of the mountain is guarded by a moat that is the first piece of the puzzle in understanding this face. In my mind, it is a perfect problem. One that waits to test the climber who feels ready to embrace it. We will be back for you Pigeon Spire. 

II: The Snowpatch Spire, The Snowpatch Route

The Snowpatch Spire East Face, providing early morning inspiration in the tent

When we got back from the Pigeon Spire, we discussed what the next objective would be. We were so captivated by the Snowpatch East face that stood proudly over our camp that we decided we needed to take a closer look and see what the mountain had to offer. Naturally, we opted to take the easiest route to the top, the Snowpatch route, 5.8. This is a route that holds a lot of history. It was finally climbed in 1940 after many years of efforts and being deemed "North Americas greatest climbing problem" in the 1930's. The route follows the west ridge up and past the great snow patch to the vast and complicated headwall. Its wandery, long, and along the way shows hints of the past and the daring minds of those that were true pioneers of these mountains. To climb this, we dug through our tool kit and utilized soloing, simul climbing, and efficient route finding by following our hearts. Thank you Snowpatch for providing us with a splendid adventure. 

Matthew high up the 5.4 dihedral that is used to gain the ridge crest 

Looking down the 5.4 dihedral 

Simul Climbing the long slab pitches next to the great snow patch

Once at the headwall we really had to use our brains. Looking for signs of passage we climbed steep hand and finger cracks past rusty old pitons with rings in them, a glorious look into the past. On top of the last hard pitch, I felt incredibly excited to have solved the puzzle. Easy scrambling would lead us to the summit and very obvious chain anchors provided our escape down the west face of the mountain. 

Matthew on the Snowpatch Spire south summit

Us, very excited on the summit

rapping down the Kraus McCarthy on the west face of the mountain

Working down the Pigeon Ice Fall Rapells 

Shortly after that photo was taken, a botched moat crossing took hold of one of our rope ends and we were forced to cut it. I had always wondered if and when I would have to cut a rope. 

The Pigeon spire and the Pigeon Ice Fall- taken from the rap line

Running down in excitement after successfully retrieving our rope from the grasp of the glacier

Very Pleased with our journey, and excited for the walk back to camp 

enjoying a sneaky weasel back at camp after a great day out

III: Trials and Tribulations 

Part of being in the mountains is using your problem solving skills to overcome obstacles that may be thrown your way. On this day, we threw our guidebook into the glacier and were faced with the task of saving it and the rest of our trip. Because we were certainly not going to meander around camp asking to take photos of routes in other peoples guidebooks, that would be cowardice, and we were determined to solve this problem that we were dealt on our own accord. 

We had walked over to the McTech arete area, feeling tired from our outing on Snowpatch the day before. The guidebook was set on a rock that would cannon our book into the glacier below, very slowly. While standing around like a fool I watched in slow motion as the book slid off the top of this large rock, gently bounced off the edge of the cliff, and went flying into the void. Immeadetly, we knew we had to try and get it back. So we fixed our rope to the rap anchors and began the retrieval process. 

The chasm 

The book- likley 10-12 feet deep

The Solution- a retrieval device composed of a beyond fully extended trekking pole taped and cinched to a mountaineering axe 

The operation- send Matthew into the chasm and help guide the axe into the book via the tagline while he tries to hook it

Triumph

After we spent the better part of our day solving this issue we were finally able to climb! We were greeted with grey clouds and a cool wind 4 pitches up the McTech arete. While we were debating climbing another pitch, thunder, hail, rain and wind quickly made our decision and we retreated as the storm erupted around us. Although wet, we were glad that this happened to us so close camp. 

IV: Crescent Towers ~ The Donkeys Ears

(also the Eastpost spire) 

The Donkey's Ears 

We needed a chill day. And we needed to climb each spire in the Crescent Lake basin. So we found a great looking route in the book, and set out the next morning. Unfortunately, I did not take many photos from the Donkey's Ears which is a shame because this was one of the most fun rock climbs Ive ever done!

the very fun chimney pitch~ pitch 8

Looking back down the route from the top

On top of the east tower planning a way to summit the West tower

We summited the West tower via a fun hand crack traverse on the south face of the upper tower. There was a chain rap station on the top of it too. 

Looking back at the Crescent towers after descending towards Eastpost

The Eastpost spire was lively with people. Although we were feeling tired from the day prior, we blasted up the west ridge of the crescent spire through 4th and low 5th class terrain. The end of the traverse was very exposed and made for one of the most enjoyable scrambles I have ever done.

An example of the exciting terrain the ridge has to offer

the summit of the Eastpost spire 

After our great morning of running around on the smaller things close to camp, I was feeling tired. We hung around camp waiting for the storm to come. Finally, when the storm did come, we sat in the tent talking about what we should do next. While hail and wind assaulted the tent, we decided we needed to complete the applebee skyline peaks.

V: The Northeast Ridge- the Bugaboo Spire 

"We have to climb that, right?" 

"Certainly." 

This was actual conversation between Matthew and I while we relaxed at camp, admiring the Bugaboo spire. Finally, when that hailstorm came, we decided it was time to give this thing a go. We would wake up at 3:20, pack our bags which were sitting out in the storm, eat food, drink coffee, filter our water, and go.

The Snowpatch and Bugaboo spires

The following morning flowed to plan, and we left camp around 4:20 and headed for the approach pitches. When we got there we had a hard time finding where to go because it was very dark. Clouds blanketed the sky making the ridge lines hard to see, and the steep terrain plus the headlamp tunnel vision made it hard to know where exactly we were. We kept following out hearts and eventually found rap chains, so we figured we were on the right track. The ascent was not that easy however as he rock was wet and we were soloing low 5th class in the dark. I actually found this to be one of the more intense mornings I've had in the mountains and was quite glad when we made it to the ridge.

Matthew on the 4th class lower section of the route

More scrambling lead us to where we would rope up. While we were racking up, the clouds swarmed the mountain in waves and we were often in a complete ping-pong ball. This added a very alpine feel to our situation. Luckily, the ridge was dry!

Matthew on the start of P1

looking down P2

Splitter

Selfie

the scenery

Foggy upper pitches 

Looking back down one of the last pitches, the fog made for very exciting climbing

More going up

Attaining the summit of the Bugaboo spire was short and sweet, the technical climbing was over, but the somewhat complex descent down the Kain route still loomed.

Somewhere on top of the Bugaboo spire, Snowpatch in the background

Meandering 

going down

 going down

Still going down

Going down 

Taking it all in 

On the glacier, the Kain route and everything else behind us

Matthew on the glacier, approaching the pigeon icefall rappels  

A sneaky weasel, a J, a relaxing evening looking back up at the great Bugaboo spire

VI: Reflections

We woke the next morning, feeling tired and sore. A Garmin weather forecast as well as one from Matthews girlfriend who agreed to give us weather updates, reported snow for a day and a half was on the way. With that, we knew it was time to wrap it up. 

our lalapalooza 

packing up shop

Thank you

~ For six days, we raged, and painted the canvas that was presented to us. We felt that with the snow on the way and having climbed the routes on our list, it was appropriate to set sail back home and return to the mountains that we know and love. The walk out was hard, our bags seemed to lose no more weight than when we first walked in and on the way out I found myself wondering if we were leaving too soon. It felt like there was more we should have been doing, like we were leaving a project unfinished. We never ventured into East Creek and never got to know the Howser towers. But perhaps that was a good thing. Perhaps leaving that behind us is our incentive to return. These mountains tested me, put me in a mental headspace that iv'e only experienced in alpine settings. Here, our prolonged stay allowed me to explore that headspace more, I was pushed to really dive into it and over the course of those six days I found happiness in complete exhaustion, solitude in the chaos of the mountains that seemed to be falling apart around us and fear from not what was to come, not from the next climb, or even the next pitch, but instead fear rising from experiences Iv'e already had throughout the course of the past few years. Perhaps this was my brain reminding me about the line we cross when we walk into the mountains, or maybe it is a natural step in the evolution of becoming a more mature climber, a piece to the ever changing puzzle that is alpine climbing. ~