Wheres Jack? (Glacier National Park)

 

For several weeks this summer one of my climbing partners, Jeff, had been suggesting that we head up to Glacier to try and climb a newer and seldom traveled rock route in the park. This route, “Where's Jack?” climbs up the south west face of the Little Matterhorn in the very back of Snyder Basin and offers 7 pitches of up to 5.8 climbing on relatively good rock for the area. It was put up in 2019, and since then has likely only seen several ascents per year. There is a lot more information about the history of the route and the man who envisioned it, the late Jack Beard, on the routes mtn project page.

 If you are a climber in northwestern Montana you know that many people are not drawn to climb in Glacier National park because of infamously loose rock, and if you have climbed or explored in Glacier, then you know first hand just how bad the rock actually is. The beautiful and breathtaking mountains in Glacier are pretty much just piles of loose blocky rocks that crumble and move upon touching them. On top of the horrific rock quality, Glacier is also known for rather long approaches that involve some sort of treacherous bushwhacking and make for very long days out. All that being said, for the climber that enjoys a good adventure and is willing to do a little walking, Glacier is the perfect place to spend long complicated days out in the mountains. This is exactly what we signed up for when we started our drive from Missoula up to the park, with intentions of climbing Where's Jack. 

Aprox route 

Jeff and I left town on the evening of July 9th and drove towards the west entrance of Glacier National Park. We got to West Glacier at around 9:30 that night and found a nice spot to sleep just outside the park. Before we began our attempts at sleep we agreed that 2 am was the best time to wake up, and should have us walking up the trail at around 3. This was a decision made based on the beta that “some parties have taken up to 20 hours” car to car. So because Jeff and I both had to work on Thursday morning, we decided a nice alpine start was a wise decision. One beer and a few sips of Yukon Jack later, we were in our sleeping setups on the ground near the car where we first encountered the main crux of the entire expedition, mosquitos. It's hard to emphasize the truly terrific amount of noise that mosquitoes can produce in a quiet setting. Sleep at first was impossible, and instead was a game of mitigating the heat in my bivy sack, and trying not to let the bugs get in there with me. This game went on for what felt like hours until the sun finally set, relieving most of the mosquitos from their duties for the evening. I was at last able to catch 2 hours of sleep before the alarms interrupted the silence in the quiet forest. It was time to start the day. 

We quickly did some last minute packing before driving into the park and both had our fill of canned caffeine to get us up the 5 or so mile approach. We parked at the McDonald lake lodge and set off at around 3. Conversing our way up the trail, we made pretty good time thanks to the high quality trails in the park and got to lower Snyder Lake just before sunrise. The trail ended here and we proceeded to follow the rocky shore around the right side of the lake and to the waterfall/drainage that was coming from upper Snyder. Jeff took a moment to fix his shoelace that had cut and I took in the fresh morning air that would soon adobe the masses of mosquitos. Once Jeff rigged his shoelace we proceeded to move, and made our way over the stream via a log, and followed the left side of the falls/drainage up easy terrain to upper Snyder Lake. The scenery here was incredible and we were finally faced with our day's objective. Standing at the far end of upper Snyder and looking up at the mountain I felt incredibly intimidated. It felt like my caffeine buzz wore away as soon as I looked at it and I was suddenly feeling much more humble in its presence. Its big, impassable seeming, stoic face looked down on us making me feel smaller than ever. Yet, we continued to move towards it.

Snyder basin from below the route 

Wandering through the upper basin was quite easy as there were no logs or really any bushwhacking other than through some willows which seemed like the perfect hiding place for bears, although we did not encounter or see any in this area. The only creatures that proved to be problematic to us at this point were the mosquitos. We kept on swatting and smacking  our way towards the lower scrambly section of the mountain and stopped for a moment to scope out the goat trail that technical climbing starts from. Looking for the goat trail made me feel a little more confident because when looking at the starting point from the bottom, it appears that it is more than a third of the way up the face. So we kept scrambling and picking what appeared to be the easiest ways up towards the grassy ledge with bigger trees on it. I found that there were several parts of this lower section that felt like 5th class scrambling, with some 5.0 or so moves that made the lower section very enjoyable. However I’m sure there are easier ways to go, and probably more efficient ways too. Regardless, we got from the car to the start of the climb in around 4 in a half hours, and after being greeted by a curious mountain goat and finding the distinct flare followed by what looked like a hand crack, we decided that this must be the start.

Goat that greeted us 

We had decided that Jeff would lead odds and I would lead evens, so we built a belay and Jeff set off first, working his way up the first pitch. At this point I was still feeling quite intimidated and was pretty anxious about how the climb was going to go. What was really on my mind was how committed we were to getting to the top. This is not a route that seemed like it would be easy, or wise to bail off of. Down climbing the lower scrambly section would be very tedious and rapping from any point on the climb with just a 70m rope would require us to leave a lot of gear behind. So as Jeff worked his way up I realized just how committed we were to pushing to the top. As I was nervously thinking about this I looked up to see Jeff go for a move when he shouted and fell from the hand crack, his fall being protected by a very well placed #2.

 “Fuck dude, are you ok?” I asked him. “Yea” he said. “Are you ok?” he asked me back. “Yea, I’m good” I could feel how scared I felt in my voice. “What happened?” I asked him. “I don't know, I just slipped.” “Damn dude, nice work on that placement.” 

After our short nervous conversation, Jeff saddled back up and hopped in the crack, this time elegantly moving his way up it. Soon he was out of sight and I kept on feeding him slack as he moved higher up the mountain. A few minutes passed before I heard a faint but loud shout, “Nate off belay!” I then shouted back “You're off!” I quickly put my shoes on, and got myself ready to embark up the technical portion of the climb. 

I found the first pitch to be very enjoyable but a little awkward. The hand crack was bomber but to jam it you almost had to be bent over because it was not totally vertical, which made for fun but awkward climbing. From there the technicality eased off, and it was easy going to the belay ledge. “Nice work dude” I told Jeff when I got to the anchor. Once there we moved the anchor out right to just below the obvious chimney on the second pitch. Now it was my lead. I was feeling nervous as I racked up and kept telling myself to turn my brain off and just climb. I taped my hands up and let out a nervous “alrighty”. “I'll see you up there,”  Jeff said back to me.

I unclipped my personal from the anchor, and began making my way towards the chimney. Right as I started to climb my nerves began to feel at ease and I cruised my way to the chimney. I found a good place for gear and did the first hand jam embarking into the 20 or so foot feature. After the first initial hand crack it thinned out into a finger crack and I was able to wedge my feet below me to help me crank on fingers reaching high up onto a ledge in the chimney. Finding gear in the chimney was tough. It was wide enough to wedge my body in, but was very deep, and the cracks in the back of the chimney were extremely crumbly and dirty. For a second here I began to feel myself start to get nervous and my leg start to get shaky, so I really wedged my body in there so that I was secure enough to move one hand freely to investigate a place for gear. I found a place in the back of the chimney that seemed super good enough and I flung a medium sized stopper in there and yarded on it with an alpine draw. It seemed snug and was just what I needed mentally to continue up the chimney, so I extended the draw and began crawling and wedging my way up towards the top out. 

[Photo of me in chimney ]

Me climbing the p2 chimney (photo by Jeff McGowan)

I found that working up the chimney was difficult because of the bag I was wearing, it kept getting caught on the walls and made it hard to move upwards efficiently. It was however one of my favorite pitches of this climb and had me feeling psyched at the end of the pitch. The upper part of this pitch was cruiser and I made it to the big grassy ledge where I built an anchor and belayed Jeff up. 

“Nice work man” he said as he got to the anchor. “Your nut in the chimney was really good, I had to get acrobatic to get it out.” 

“I'm glad you were able to get it out,” I said. 

The next pitch was what the beta called “The giggle dihedral” 5.7. This was Jeff's pitch and to us felt to be the hardest pitch of the route. It started with a sort of funky little traverse on subpar rock and followed a fist sized dihedral that led to a small roof and then on to easier climbing. We moved the belay slightly to the right and then Jeff embarked. As he got to the dihedral I noticed a few times that he had stopped climbing to look for gear, found nothing and moved on. By the time he had gotten to the small roof, he had stopped and was quite high above his last piece. 

Jeff on the start of the "Giggle Dihedral"

Jeff braving the runout roof pull 

“I'm with ya” I would say to him. “You're doing good man!” I could tell he was looking for a place to put gear and it seemed to not be going all too well. 

“Are you able to get to the crack in the roof?” I yelled up. “I just need to focus right now” he replied back. “Sorry dude.” “You're good.” 

After I said that, he reached far below him and placed a #3, giving it a good yank and then clipping the draw to the rope. “Nice work dude!” I yelled up to him. Once he got that piece in he charged through the roof section pulling up onto the easier climbing. 

“Yea dude, nice job man!” I yelled. “I would have been giggling alot more if I had a #4. '' he said. In the updated beta for the route it says “skipping the 4 is unadvisable.” We brought doubles in everything up to 3’s and had no 4’s, which on this pitch would have been very useful to have. Jeff, like a beast, persevered and topped out just below the 4th pitch, where he built an anchor and belayed me up.

Jeff above the roof 

Following this pitch was nice on TR and let me say that having a 4 would have been very nice for the leader. The climbing though was still extremely fun and engaging, and the move getting into the roof and pulling trough the roof felt to be the crux of the climb to me. This pitch we both agreed was the favorite of the day and had us both pretty excited for the rest of the climb. “Dude you're a savage” I said to him as I approached the belay. “You should be proud of that lead”. “Thanks man.” he said back “That was a good pitch.” 

Here we drank water and went over the route beta. After seeing that the next pitch was around 250 ft of easier climbing, we decided to simul climb it. I had never simul climbed before so this was a good introduction to it and I learned just how useful of a tactic it is. “Just make sure that we have two pieces of gear between us,” Jeff told me. So I racked up, and he kiwi coiled part of the rope around him and put me on belay. “Sweet man you're locked and good to go!” I set off into the immediate 5.6 chimney, and found a good place for a stopper. I stemmed my way up the chimney, and found myself on the 5th class scrambly slopes. Every now and then I found a good place for gear and extended all my draws to try and keep rope drag down. As I kept moving I noticed the rope drag becoming worse until it wouldn't move at all. I figured Jeff was following and working on getting a piece out. As the tension eased up I kept moving over towards the grassy ledge with some trees on it and I spotted a tree with a pink piece of flagging and aimed for it. Now I’m thinking that I went too high, because I came level with the tree but had to do a delicate traverse over about 15 feet of loose flaky slab. Once past the traverse I was happy to get to the tree and build and anchor off of it. 

“Jeff, I got you on belay!” I yelled down to him. 

Once we were both at the anchor we re racked and moved the belay more to our right to begin the 5th traverse pitch. This pitch was supposed to be the crux traverse pitch, so we read the beta again and then Jeff quested off into the void of the wall. I watched as he carefully moved and worked his way out right, every now and then stopping to place a piece of gear. I was expecting Jeff to take his time on this pitch and was preparing for it to take a long time to complete. However he moved super efficiently and quickly through this pitch, and before I knew it he was out of sight and sound. 

[photo of Jeff on p5] 

The only form of communication we had then was the rope between us flowing like a stream through my belay device. This pitch seemed long, the rope kept moving past the halfway point and then suddenly stopped. I started to get my things together and put my shoes on, all while waiting to hear him yell “Off belay!” But I heard nothing. I kept waiting to hear something and still nothing. Then the rope started moving so I kept feeding it through my grigri thinking that maybe he was climbing. I fed it through all the way to the end and then I finally figured that he was clipped in through an anchor and was working on getting me on belay. “Ah shit” I said, and I took him off belay, put my pack on and disassembled the anchor. When the rope was tight on me, I screamed “Climbing!” and ventured off towards his first piece. This pitch was incredible. It was long, airy and exposed. The moves in the start of the pitch were super fun and flowed well. They were followed immediately by a technical chimney that made you feel the air below your feet, and led you to a nice ledge with easier climbing to the belay. 

looking down on p5 

Exposure! 

Following up p5 

I climbed up to the anchor, clipped myself in and started racking up for the next pitch. We were getting close. Jeff showed me the route topo again and then I took off, headed out left and looked for a dihedral hand crack that would lead up to the ridge line just below the last pitch. 

Me  starting p6 (photos from Jeff McGowan)

Me moving towards the dihedral 

After some fun traversing I found myself under the dihedral and punched it upwards placing good gear as I went. This pitch was very fun and was much easier than the previous pitches. It had good gear on good rock with excellent moves and led me right to the ridge line. Once I peaked my head over the ridge all the angst I was feeling that day fled and I was filled with an overwhelming sense of joy and excitement. Getting to the ridge revealed Avalanche lake way down below as well as the surrounding mountains. Waterfalls poured down into the basin from above and Bearhat mountain stood proudly next to us  along with Mount Cannon and Reynolds in the distance. It was truly wild. 

Me sitting on the ridge 

Looking down in Avalanche Lake basin 

looking down p6 dihedral 

At the ridge line I built an anchor right below the very obvious lightning bolt crack, and belayed Jeff up. “Nice work dude,” he said as he got closer. “Just wait till you get up here man,” I said to him. “When we're 8 miles in on our walk back to the car, I’m going to think about this view and it'll all be worth it.” Jeff got to the belay and gave his appreciation for it as well. “Alright man, this is it!” I said to him, “Yea dude almost done.” 

Jeff coming up to anchor 

Jeff getting ready to blast up final pitch 

Jeff racked up and started his way up the lightning bolt crack. “Watch out man, it's pretty chossy up here!” He said down to me. I stepped out to my left as small rocks fell down towards me, hit the ledge and showered down the side of the mountain we had just climbed up. He carefully moved through the choss and was once again out of sight.

Jeff on the lightning bolt crack

I really took in everything about the day so far as I was belaying him up. To me this belay was a place of solace. I stood still, locked into a bomber anchor, secure and comfortable, not moving as everything moved around me. It was the last moment of stillness. The last and first bit of calm I would have for the rest of the day, because once to the summit we would just have to begin our long descent back to the car. To me this was the First moment of true peace I had felt all day. 

“Nate you're on belay!” Jeff screamed down to me. This was it, the final piece to the summit. I climbed up the lightning bolt crack, trying to avoid knocking big rocks down off the choss pile that I mantled on top of. Once above the lightning bolt crack I walked the rest of the ridge line to the Anchor Jeff had built. We laughed and I gave him a fist bump. “Nice fuckin work today man.” I said to him, “That was a wild climb.” “Likewise man.” He said back to me. It was over now, all the climbing behind us, all we had left to do was down climb the standard route and walk the 9 or so miles over Comeau pass down into Sperry Basin, below mount Edwards and back to the car. 

“You know what we need to do?” Jeff asked me. “What's that…. Oh. Yea I know.” Jeff pulled a nearly drank bottle of Yukon Jack out of his bag and handed it to me. “Cheers man” I said, and took a swig. “Now all we have to do is walk out,” I said. Jeff took a swig and we both took another, then packed our things and began our long descent back home. 

Me on the summit of the Little Matterhorn (photo from Jeff) 

Jeff and Yukon Jack on top the the Little Matterhorn

Jeff with the standard route behind him

It's hard to unravel this day into just one small write up without going overboard because the day was so much more than just the climb. The walk into Snyder and approach was its own part followed by a climb and a long walk out. The walk out could itself be its own write up. The walk to Comeau pass and descent into Sperry was stunning the entire way. The scenery was unworldly, especially up to Comeau pass. The red looking rock and beaming white snow made it seem like we were not on earth, and the walk out was filled with pieces of adventure from Bear prints in the snow, glissading, showering in waterfalls and barefoot creek crossings as well as mountain goats. Lots of mountain goats. The upper Sperry basin walk felt like walking through a magical alpine spring wonderland, with blue alpine lakes and waterfalls everywhere it all felt like a dream. 

Looking back at the Little Matterhorn

Bear Prints in snow 

Walking towards Comeau Pass 

Me cooling off in a runoff waterfall 

Water Crossing 

Negotiating with the locals 

It's hard to sum up just how incredible this day was in a small write up. Climbing this route was truly amazing and had every good feature of a true adventure. For the pure adventurous climber, this objective awaits and I highly recommend taking it on. 

A very big thanks goes to the first ascent party for putting this rig up and sharing the beta, as well as a big thanks to Jack Beard who envisioned this climb in the first place. This was truly one of the best days I have had in the mountains so far! We got back to the car at around 9:30 (I think) and our day was close to 18.5 hours.

Sugarloaf + Sliver couloir

 On Tuesday April 23, I had the pleasure of walking up Chaffin Creek and skiing the Sliver couloir on Sugarloaf peak. Sugarloaf peak is a beautiful mountain tucked away in the southern Bitterroot mountains, and stands at around 9500 feet. Sugarloaf itself holds a lot of skiing opportunity to anyone willing to walk the distance to get at it. Chaffin creek holds a lot of skiing opportunity further down the drainage and has a very nice trail as well. I found the approach to be exceptionally easy going, and did not have to bushwhack at all which was a nice treat for what I have experienced previously in the Bitterroot.

The Sliver couloir is a line on the north face of Sugarloaf, and is a classic looking couloir with a hallway like feature at the start, and a wide finish that spits you out into the approach bowl.

North Face of Sugarloaf 

I woke up to the classic 3:30 alarm and was headed for Darby just after 4. The drive went smoothly, and was over a little too soon as I was hoping to see some morning light at the trailhead. However it was still pitch black out, so I waited for a little bit and drank the rest of my coffee before deciding it was time to start walking. I was greeted with a great sunrise, and was able to see the mountains at the back of Chaffin creek just when the morning light hit them.

Looking up Chaffin

Looking down Chaffin

Sliver Couloir on lookers left

There was not much snow on the trail, and I was able to blast almost to the base of the mountain before having to transition into ski boots. From there I started touring toward Sugarloaf. A solid melt freeze cycle made the traveling very efficient, and when I got to the lower slopes below the north face I put on the ski crampons I had bought from a buddy the day prior. Ski crampons are insane. It was my first time ever using them and they made a world of difference, especially on the steep icy side hilling I had to do on the steeper pitches.

I toured up the lower apron below the Sliver couloir and then figured it might be quicker, and easier to just boot my  way up. I was almost wishing I had boot crampons because the snow was pretty bomb proof, however I was able to cruise up with no issues. Once I got to the exit of the Sliver, I cut right, and booted up the chute right next to it which took me to the upper slopes of Sugarloaf.  

Upper slopes of Sugarloaf 

I took in the views, and continued questing towards the summit. This part was a big slog through variable snow. I tried to stay on the rocks to avoid post-holing, but for the most part post-holed my way up to the summit. I was able to put skis on and cut across the less steep slope directly below the summit ridge, but had to take them off to hike the last 15 feet to the summit. 

Summit looking into North Trapper Creek

The view from the summit was extremely rewarding, and I was able to see El Cap to the north, and the Trapper Peaks right across. 

The Trapper Peaks 

Looking down the upper north face of Sugarloaf 

I reached the summit at 10:40, which I was very shocked to see because that was much faster than I figured. But I did not stay on the summit long, on my way to the top I noticed a cornice that was hanging over the left wall of the couloir and it was, at this time, being hit by sun. It wasn’t super concerning however because the cornice itself  wasn't extremely overhung and it wasn’t  very hot out. Regardless I didn't want to risk waiting around too long so after some peaceful minutes on the summit, I began my descent. 

I was able to make some nice turns on the upper slopes of Sugarloaf, all while cutting across towards the entrance of the Silver. The 800 or so feet of exposure below me made this a very exciting portion of the mountain! 

The entrance to the sliver couloir

I made it to the entrance of the Silver and was feeling very excited because the entrance choke was much wider than I expected it to be. I dropped in, and noticed the snowpack was very firm, and as I kept moving down it soon turned almost to ice. I did several hop  turns down through the choke, and as the couloir opened up I was able to make smaller turns weaving from wall to wall. About half way down I found that the right most side of the couloir held the best snow, and that the left side had a layer of pure ice on the top. Then towards the bottom the couloir opened up significantly, and I was able to make very wide fast turns into the sun-lit apron. At this point my legs were burning, and I was happy to make it to the bottom of the bowl where I sat down on a rock and ate some lunch. 

The exit of the Sliver Couloir

The approach bowl

This was, so far, the best lunch I have had in the Bitterroot. The sun peeked over the rock I was on soon after I sat down and I really got to take in the solitude of being alone with Sugarloaf, and the surrounding peaks. 

After I refueled I headed out of Chaffin creek, and made it back to my car around 2:15 making it a little over an 8 hour day which I was pretty proud of. This is, so far, my favorite ski descent in the Bitterroots, and I would highly recommend this line to all Bitterroot skiers. 

Beer and scrog I had waiting in the car 

Sugarloaf from the highway 

Sky Pilot North Face (A trilogy)

Sky Pilot E face

On Thursday March 14 I set out to try and ski the North Face of Sky Pilot in the Bitterroots. My ski partner that day, Kaleb, and I left town at 4am and planned to be walking up the trail at around 5. When we got to the normal trailhead better known as the lower gash trail head, there was not a lot of snow on the road, so I did an extremely dumb thing and decided that we should try and drive a Subaru outback to the upper trailhead to avoid the extra mile walk. This is something that I just never seem to learn from, after two stuck car incidents last season in the Missions that cost a lot of time I, for some reason, still took the chance. Sure enough within the first 10 minutes I realized we would not make it to the upper trailhead, and began reversing back down the snowy dark forest service road. I obviously got the car stuck, which required us to dig and move some snow. After figuring out the car debacle and getting back to the lower trailhead we started walking at around 6:15 am.

An incredibly blurry morning photo of the trail

 

Another blurry iphone pic 

Kaleb and I had discussed taking the direct trail to Gash Point to avoid the tedious traverse from Gash knob to save time. But in the dark we walked past the trail that veers off to Gash proper and instead figured we could cut over later which was not the case. We kept on moving towards Gash knob and once we got there began the traverse to Gash Point. This is something I had done before, on our previous attempt to ski SP north face several weeks earlier. After that attempt, we determined that traverse was most likely a waste of time. The traverse requires one to side hill and navigate around big rock gendarmes for about a mile, and both times I have done it, it took a decent amount of time. On our way to Gash point we were looking for instabilities in the snow, and did not notice anything major. Our plan at that time was to descend into bear lake basin but stay high on the slope, and then to tour towards SP north face, and dig a pit to check out what the snow was doing. When we got to Gash Point, we did just that. We ripped skins and made the long descent into the basin. 

The previous night a few new inches of snow had fallen, and in the sun was beginning to cook everything it touched. I had noticed on our way  down how warm things were starting to get, and started to feel slightly concerned about the tour back out. The entire descent into bear basin is on a south facing slope, and by the time we were leaving it would have been getting direct sunlight for hours. Once at the end of our descent we transitioned and began moving up towards a pinch on the north face. The touring was slow and hard, and I was really getting tired setting a trail up towards the face. After a hot slog, we made it to a spot near some trees right below the choke on the north face. We refueled with water and food and dug a pit to check out what the snow was looking like. We conducted an ECT test and found that there was no propagation in the deeper layers of the snowpack. We did find that the upper snow layers, mostly the new snow, was breaking under pressure, but we decided to work with that, and keep moving up the mountain. While Kaleb navigated, and set a trail up around the choke, I moved to an area that wasn't exposed to the slope he was on and watched him work his way up. When he made it above the choke and to the shoulder on the ridge I followed his track up. Going up I really felt how steep this slope was, and felt quite exposed. My legs were starting to feel pretty tired, but I tried my best to keep blasting towards the top.

Looking down from the shoulder towards Peak 8800 and Gash

I made it to the shoulder that Kaleb was on and we kept moving up the face. However towards the top, most of the upper section looked heavily windloaded, and we began to notice a change in the snow conditions. Kaleb stated that he wanted to bail, and said it was too risky to go into the upper portion of the mountain. This was extremely hard for me, the summit was 400 or so feet away, and we had put in so much work to get there. It is moments like these that reveal my weaknesses in the mountains, especially on bigger objectives like this. In little moments like this I feel anger, and frustration, and find that I overlook obvious hazards and take dumb risks. Triggering a wind slab 1000 feet up a steep blank face is a serious deal, and something that should not be overlooked, especially when you can physically see the problem in front of you. Kaleb saw no issue in turning his skis around and pointing them back towards the car, even when we could see the summit in front of us. I on the other hand stood in my tracks for several minutes looking at the top, and then looking at Kaleb behind me. Eventually I decided that I would not be skiing from the top alone, and so along with my partner I pointed my skis back towards the car.

Before we transitioned I said “you know this means we’re going to have to come back right?” Kaleb just smiled and said “Yea dude, Monday”

Kaleb and I turning around near the summit 

Looking back at our tracks on sky pilot n face

On our way out we noticed that a wet slide, big enough to bury a person, had slid and taken out a part of our skin trail that we set on the way in. This was, to me, a sign that we needed to leave, and was a good example of what was going to happen over the next couple of days. 

Kalebs tracks over the wet slide that took out our initial skin trail

While I was at work for the next three days, high temps and beautiful weather led to dangerous conditions, and it seemed everything the sun touched was coming down. Observations posted to Missoula Avalanche showed large wet slides happening all over the place, and it seemed that going out again would be a bad idea. When Sunday morning rolled around I sent a text to Kaleb asking how he felt about going out the following day. He said that If we hit it early he figured we could beat the warm temps and make it out of there before the south facing exit route got too hot. He followed that text up with “So we would need to start really really early.” 

 

We talked on the phone Sunday evening, and I was a little apprehensive about it all, yet Kaleb managed to convince me that we should still try to make it happen, and that we should leave town at 2am. 

“Uhhhhhhhhh, maaaaaannnnn,  pffffffshhhhh……..yeah…………yeah I'm down” 

“Sweet.” 

My alarm was going off far too soon that morning, and with probably 3 hours sleep in me, I put my ski socks on at 1:32 am. We loaded our skis in my car, and I offered Kaleb a cup of coffee, something I learned he doesn't drink very often. On the drive there I drank probably half a french press worth of coffee and was still quite tired, Kaleb on the other hand drank a small cup and seemed to be ready to go. We took off from the lower trailhead around 3:15am and began blasting up the trail.

Two seriously epic photos I took of us charging up the trail 

 We took the skin trail that would lead us directly to Gash Point this time, and as the lights from the town below got further away, so did Kalebs light in front of me. He was moving very fast, and I started to feel gassed. As I kept moving I began to feel so gassed to the point that I was planning on telling him I couldn't continue after Gash Point. He must've been waiting there for 10 minutes or more before I arrived, not feeling ideal. I couldn't manage to tell him that I wanted to go back because I was sleepy and my legs were tired. That seemed like a bad reason to leave. “I feel fucked” was all I managed to say. Somehow his positive attitude managed to convince me that all I needed was some water and food. So I had a fig bar and several sour patch kids to boost morale, and we continued on that windy ridge, guided by headlamps towards a mountain that was waiting in the darkness of the early morning.

The descent down into bear basin was quite the adventure as we were being guided by our headlamp tunnels. All I could see was the trees illuminated by our lights and nothing else, so where we were on that face was a guess at the time. Eventually we intersected with our tracks from four days prior and followed those until we weren't riding gravity down anymore. I transitioned at this point, and braced myself to start going uphill again. At this time, early morning light was allowing us to vaguely see the mountain that lay in front of us. As we toured closer the beauty of the mountain really struck me. It looked bigger and greater than ever, and it felt as if we caught it in its perfect moment. It stood silently like a sleeping beast and I felt a complete sense of solitude in that basin. At that moment in time it was just us and the mountain, and I was very grateful that we had been able to return to this place for a third time to get to experience the elements and challenges it had to throw at us.

Sky Pilot looming 

Getting closer...

We reached the shoulder of the NE ridge, the place we turned around last time just in time to watch the sun rise over the mountains in the distance, and it was quite a nice change to see the sun. As the sun rose, and shined its light on us, I started to forget about the darkness, and struggles of the early morning. We figured that the snow would be a little better if we waited for it to warm up, so we took in the views and re-fueled while the sun did its work. 

Sun rising over Gash

 

Early Bitterroot light 

Kaleb taking it all in 

Sunlight at last!

Morning light on the upper slope of Sky pilot N face 

Once we felt it was time, we embarked into the unknown upper slope of the North Face, and made it to the summit around 8:50 am. We had done it. Three long, and difficult trips later, we topped out, and were rewarded with skiing the 1200, or so, foot north face. Kaleb waited patiently while I took photos and looked at things in the distance with binoculars, and after I had my fill, we skied. 

    

Kaleb Approaching the top 

The upper slopes were a little packed in, but still made for fun skiing, and since we had already skied the lower main section of the north face, we decided to ski the right chute instead. In this chute we found really good snow, and rode it out to the final bottom slope, where we found nice powder behind a shaded wind lip. It was awesome. 

Kaleb tearing it up on the the N face 

Kaleb skiing down the right chute 

We skied back to the skin trail, very happy about our success, and psyched on the quality of the skiing. At the bottom I tried to mentally prepare for the never ending sidehill out of bear lake basin. Kaleb had mentioned earlier that we should try to ski the south facing stuff that was above the skin trail out, and since it was still early figured it would be decent to ski. We toured a little ways up the trail, and then threw our skis on our packs to boot up the south face of peak 8800.

Bidding farewell to Sky Pilot 

Quickly it was decided that booting up was going to be more work than we were willing to do because of sugary snow, so we ended up taking off our packs and sitting down in front of the dreamy east face of SP. Right as we sat down it seemed like the mountains came alive. Thunder-like sounds produced by wet slides on the east facing slopes across from us started to roar through the basin, and rock fall on the east face of SP began to happen as well. For what felt like 20 minutes we sat in silence, listening and watching the show happening across from us. Once we decided we had seen enough, we strapped our skis on, and began to move. The exit out of Bear lake basin was hard for me, and I felt very happy when we got to ski off of gash point and make the final push out of there. I felt very relieved to get back to the car, and to have officially ended the SP trilogy. (For this season)

I feel very happy with the overall effort we put into skiing this line, we basically skied the mountain twice in 5 days, which accumulated to about 14k vert and almost 30 miles. I also feel happy with the decisions we made. Through this effort I got the privilege of logging hours and miles in, in  an incredible place and on top of all that I got to share memories with some cool people in the mountains! 

Shoshone Spire (south face)

Shoshone South Face, Blodgett Canyon MT 

October 13 2023

 This is a climb that had been on my mind for a long time, and one that I had been quite anxious about doing. After a summer of not climbing, I returned to Missoula and tried to get back into the rock climbing groove. I climbed a route at Lost Horse and got the chance to place some gear, and then went to Mill creek shortly after and climbed a route called Chicken and Doughnuts 5.9 R. I lead both pitches of this route, and was feeling quite confident afterwards. The next week I went down to Salt Lake city and wanted to climb a route called Crescent Crack 5.7 which I would  guide my girlfriend, and my buddy up. However on the second pitch of this climb I got into the off width section and got absolutely worked. I placed a really shitty cam, and asked my partner to take, and as soon as I put all my weight on the cam it ripped out of the crack, and I fell straight to my ass onto the belay ledge. I got too confident. 

Shoshone spire in between Flathead Buttress and Nez Perce spire 

After this experience I did not climb much, as my weekends were occupied. But finally, the stars aligned and my partner Brendan and I were able to make a day to go and climb Shoshone, which we had planned on doing for several weeks at this point. We met at my house at 7am and made way towards Blodgett canyon. I was feeling weird about the day when I woke up, and was having some doubts about my placement skills after Utah. 

We arrived at the trailhead around 8 something and started grabbing the gear we would take. I had brought 8 of my own alpine draws, and Brendan had several others. Im not sure if Brendan counted them out or not when we were grabbing gear, and I know that I sure didn't. He told me to leave some of the draws behind, so I threw them back on the car seat. We had a good variety of cams 2 sets of stoppers for some reason,  and a 70m rope. After sorting our gear we set off down the trail, and made quite a good pace. The Blodgett trail is pretty flat, so you can really move down that trail. As we walked on below massive walls, Shoshone started to become visible. When you look at pictures of Shoshone spire it looks quite large, however when you see it in person setting between Flathead Buttress and Nez Perce Spire, it looks quite small. I would not be thinking that later on.

                                               Brendan approaching the scree 

We marched through the forest, then cut off the trail and across the creek and made up towards the base of the route. It was decided earlier that day that Brendan would lead pitched 1, 3 and 5, so he had the first lead. As he was climbing up I didn't think that the moves looked too hard to get around, and was caught off guard when I started climbing. It felt quite hard, and I was felt very insecure because it seemed like the chimney crack feature towards the end of the pitch was overhung. After topping out, I racked up and began up the second pitch, which was basically a scramble with a move of 5.7 in it. I place one piece going up it. I got to a tree just below lunch ledge and built an anchor to relieve myself of the rope drag. Once I belayed Brendan up, I coiled the rope and we scrambled up to the base of the third pitch. The sun was out and it  had been a beautiful day so far. Brendan racked up, and began leading up the headwall of the spire. At this point I was starting to feel pretty good, and felt a little more confident in my climbing abilities. Brendan made his way up the short but steep pitch, and then called for me to climb on up. This was another pitch that was deceiving to me. As I watched him go up the moves didn't look to hard, and it did not seem as overhung as it felt. When I began climbing and got to the final little chimney I once again felt unease and insecure. The moves seemed hard and overhung, and felt like I was climbing sloppy and loose. I topped out and got to the anchor, and told him that was a nice lead. He said thanks, and then told me that this pitch I had to lead was the money pitch. From the anchor it looked pretty fun too, it seemed like it was a sea of crack systems that all lead to a roof feature. I was anticipating that to be the crux of my pitch. 

Brendan working up the first pitch

Brendan working up the third pitch after lunch ledge 

Topping out of p3

I racked up and set off onto my pitch. The climbing was quite wild, and the style was none that Ive climbed before. All the crack systems I saw were more like flaring cracks that just seemed to end, and they were not that deep either, so good hand or fist jams were hard to find. The foot jams however were excellent. I found that I was pinching the rock, and foot jamming to move up. The climbing was crazy and the gear was slim. It was hard to find good placements as the cracks were shallow and flaring. Right off the bat on this pitch I dropped a nut, which I probably could have used later on. I managed to place a decent amount of gear for how thin the pitch was, and once I got to my anticipated crux I realized that I only had three draws left, and a plethora of gear on my waist. I needed one of the draws to build my anchor, and wasn't too sure how much more of the pitch I had left. I placed a pretty good piece protecting the crux and began to move through it. Once again I felt insecure and uneasy. Although the rock was decent with a few loose exceptions,  I felt scared moving through the roof. With some very high hand jams, and high feet I pulled myself through and kept moving. Somewhere in there I placed another piece and was down to just one draw plus the one I needed for the anchor, so when I placed another cam I just clipped the cam. This made the rope drag pretty epic. I shouted to Brendan and asked where I needed to go, and he told me I needed to traverse left to this big notch in the arete. I regretted placing that cam. I moved through the traverse and slung a horn with Brendans cordeltte he used as a third hand. I made it to the notch, built a 4 piece anchor and proceeded to belay Brendan up. 

Me making my way up p4

It was time for the 5th pitch, and the spire did not seem small anymore. I was feeling not very confident after my pitch, and was honestly excited to be done with the climb after this pitch. Brendan asked me if I wanted to lead it, and I say no. He then racked up and proceeded into battle. I watched him cilmb up and around the corner of the notch, where it looked like he was just hanging above space. He worked his way out of sight, and to see him I had to step back and lean off the edge to get a glance. The rope was moving steadily, and I assumed that everything was going smooth, then the rope stopped. And it didn't move for a long time until I heard him shout "Take!" I took in his slack and shouted back "Gotcha!" He asked to be lowered, and then he took again, then asked to be lowered, and the whole time I had no idea what was going on. I figured he didn't have enough draws, and was down climbing to collect gear that he had placed. I would occasionally yell up to him and ask how things were going and he said that were fine. In my mind I was thinking that he was going to build an anchor and that we would pitch out the last pitch, which I really did not want to do because I figured if he was having troubles getting past this pitch I would get crushed by it. But he gave a good victory yell and the rope began moving once more. 

Brendan Working on the final pitch 

Brendan after rounding the first corner out of the belay 

Finally it was my turn to climb. I cleaned the anchor and began up the final pitch which was immediately quite spooky. I rounded the corner of the notch and all the exposure hit me. There I was thinking I was some sort of hard Bitterroot climber, and I was scared on top rope. I climbed up the great splitter cracks, and pulled gear out as I went, until I got to a red number 2 cam which seemed out of the way. I had sort of climbed above it to try and get to a good spot to get it as well, so I was not set up right for it. "how the fuck did he put this in?" I said out loud to my self. I down climbed, and reached my hand in the crack to try and get the piece.  I don't know if it was the angle I initially tried to get it from, but it was extremely hard to push the trigger on the cam without pushing it deeper. I battled with the thing for a few minutes and just could not get it out. So I took the biner off of it and carried on. Sorry Brendan. I kept on climbing the pitch, and got to yet another chimney that was slightly overhung, and challenging to get past. I was stemmed out, with my back and feet against the walls and tossed and turned my way up that thing with extremely poor style. 

I got passed the chimney and made it to the anchor totally cooked. "If I lead that it would have broke me" I told Brendan. He laughed and then we both agreed it was time to go, as it was starting to get sort of late. We coiled our rope, packed up and began making our way down the walk off portion of the climb. We walked down the steep terrain until we found the Bonsai tree marker with the rap bolts near it. We made the standard two raps off and landed next to the un-frozen Blodgett falls. 

Overall this was a great climb with tons of unique features and good pitches. I need to go back and climb it again in better style, and with a better attitude. But till next summer, bring on the winter!