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. ~