Shuksan via the White Salmon Glacier
There was an idea thrown around about climbing a peak off the Mt Baker highway. Being that I had three day weekends and we were in the throes of a high pressure system, I agreed to join. Names were thrown around: Goat, Church, one of the twins, or Shuksan along with the pros and cons for each. Rapid warming and wet slides ruled out Goat and Church. Access was the only issue with North Twin, so it was brushed aside. This left us with one reasonable choice, which was Mt Shuksan.
The original plan was to alpine start on Saturday morning. This plan was dropped late Friday night. Instead, we'd head up to Mt Baker ski area Saturday afternoon, check conditions on the Arm, and see if climbing seemed worthwhile. Since there was all kinds of time to kill, a handful of us went to breakfast at the Copper Hog in Bellingham. In the past, I've been given many things when mentioning an outing like someone's dog(s), a bunch of sporks (long story), a garden gnome, and the list continues. That morning at breakfast, Josh gave me a pair of Zeal iOn goggles and told me to use them during the climb. Without them, I probably wouldn't have gotten many of the photos I took...but we will get there shortly.
The test run on the Arm was decent, so we decided to give it a go for Sunday morning. Wake up super duper early, make a push for the summit in one day, and get back to Bham that night. Now the only issue was finding suitable climbing partners. Many of my favorite climbing friends aren't into ski mountaineering, which crosses off a lot of people. One person got sick, so he dropped out. Then there was Brandon. Speedy, nice person to be around, and a split boarder. Of course, there was a snafu. Brandon was in the market for new crampons and an ice axe. After some hesitation on what gear to buy in Backcountry Essentials, we stepped out onto Holly for a moment to discuss options. We went back in and Brandon grabbed some gear off the shelf and approached the counter. “We just closed the register. Unless you are paying in cash…” Does anyone our age even carry that much cash on them, I wondered? I definitely do not, and it turned out that Brandon doesn’t either. We left, gear-less, in the direction of REI. Unfortunately, REI was also closed. At 7pm on a Saturday in Bellingham, there was no possibility of buying outdoor gear. How is this possible?
Much debate ensued. Who could we call for borrowing gear? Could we ask to borrow gear without inviting someone and not make them bummed? How is this going to work? The three of us paced back and forth out side of REI for about 15 minutes, throwing ideas into the darkness of the parking lot. There were no solutions. We were hosed. That’s when a friendly REI staff member opened the door. Brandon and Jason pleaded, saying that Brandon knew what he wanted, would grab it immediately, pay and leave. She let them in and it was game on.
Packing for a climbing trip can be an arduous task. Do I have everything? Do I have too much? How heavy is your bag compared to mine? Why is that bag so heavy? I’ll repack. It’s still heavy. Is your bag still heavy? What the hell. This continued on until 11pm, which isn’t ideal when you plan on waking up at 2:30am. You throw in the towel on packing at the point when you realize that you need food and water to survive, and in any number of situations you need X amount of items. That’s what you take, and that’s what you deal with…
The wee hours of the morning came too quickly and we were cruising up the highway, then out the cat track towards Chair 8, and then down into the Nooksack drainage. Even in the dark of the morning, I could feel the walls of the peaks rising above and closing in. At the bottom we began touring over creeks and through the woods. By dusk we hit the edge of the forest and were amazed to see pile on top of pile of avalanche debris. We aren’t talking tiny piles, I’m talking over head height with chunks larger than a refrigerator. The crowns way above us were enormous. We cruised up the drainage, over the avy debris and arrived at the bottom of the White Salmon Glacier.
From the ski area, anyone can tell that Shuksan is a large mountain, but the scale of just how large is skewed. The Arm stretches much farther than it appears; Shuksan seems to be much closer and therefore smaller in size. When you stand at the bottom looking up and around, the scale is magnified and it is almost daunting. We skinned up the WSG until edging became difficult and dangerous. Difficult is fine, but when slipping off a cliff becomes a possibility, you to switch to crampons. We continued up the crusty snow and tip toed across snow bridges spanning large crevasses. We hadn’t roped up so a crumbling snow bridge would result in a bit of a rescue mission or self extraction, if possible. Luckily enough, this wasn’t an issue.
Near the top of the glacier, Dan Helmstadter – mountain goat meets gazelle – may as well have jogged past us. He was friendly and moved with unbelievable speed and grace. Yes, he summited that day and made a fairly sizeable tour back to his car. Shortly after he blew the proverbial doors off our posse, which was moving at a fine pace, we encountered Russell Cunningham. Turns out I’d met Russell in REI years earlier, talking about flukes (snow protection, not people) and making faces as if he didn’t trust them. Russell also knows Jason, and since he was out and about on his own we welcomed him into our posse. The four of us moved upward and onward, chatting, clicking photos, and snacking.
At the top of the White Salmon Glacier, we reevaluated. Time and minor issues were our concerns. We could summit, but that would make for a likely descent by headlamp. I don't know how awesome riding through steep, firm, heavily crevassed terrain sounds to you, but it doesn't sound all that rad to me. Luckily enough, Jason, Brandon, and Russell all felt the same way. Instead, Russell and Brandon cruised over the Upper Curtis to check out the NW Couloir. Jason and I chilled and made water for the group. It turned into a nice ridge top relax session. Walking around, taking more photos, laying in the sun. Pretty awesome overall. An hour later, Brandon and Russell returned and we headed on out.
We talked our route over and decided that the steeper slope with less crevasse openings was the proper way to head down the mountain. With the firmness and pitch of the slope, we all rode with axes out. A fall would mean a terrifyingly fast ride down a few thousand feet. If you were lucky, you would make it to the bottom of the drainage in record speed with some serious raspberries. If you were unlucky, you could slide straight off a cliff. We took our time and regrouped in a few different spots, sinking axes into the firm snowpack and resting our feet.
The long way down took a long time. As darkness grew in the valley, the four of us snowboarded back down through avy debris and into the forest. This wasn't the end of the day. At this point we'd been traveling for 12 hours, were hungry, getting irritated and in need of skinning up to the parking lot. Well, this drainage is especially steep and the snow was rotten. Instead of skinning we bootpacked through crotch deep manky snow, swapping leads so no one got too aggravated. That was that. We didn't summit, but nothing bad happened either.
Our night ended at Chair 9. Well, no. Actually our night ended on the side of the Mt Baker Highway. Three adults sleeping in a VW Golf hatchback. It was cozy, to say the least.
The test run on the Arm was decent, so we decided to give it a go for Sunday morning. Wake up super duper early, make a push for the summit in one day, and get back to Bham that night. Now the only issue was finding suitable climbing partners. Many of my favorite climbing friends aren't into ski mountaineering, which crosses off a lot of people. One person got sick, so he dropped out. Then there was Brandon. Speedy, nice person to be around, and a split boarder. Of course, there was a snafu. Brandon was in the market for new crampons and an ice axe. After some hesitation on what gear to buy in Backcountry Essentials, we stepped out onto Holly for a moment to discuss options. We went back in and Brandon grabbed some gear off the shelf and approached the counter. “We just closed the register. Unless you are paying in cash…” Does anyone our age even carry that much cash on them, I wondered? I definitely do not, and it turned out that Brandon doesn’t either. We left, gear-less, in the direction of REI. Unfortunately, REI was also closed. At 7pm on a Saturday in Bellingham, there was no possibility of buying outdoor gear. How is this possible?
Much debate ensued. Who could we call for borrowing gear? Could we ask to borrow gear without inviting someone and not make them bummed? How is this going to work? The three of us paced back and forth out side of REI for about 15 minutes, throwing ideas into the darkness of the parking lot. There were no solutions. We were hosed. That’s when a friendly REI staff member opened the door. Brandon and Jason pleaded, saying that Brandon knew what he wanted, would grab it immediately, pay and leave. She let them in and it was game on.
Packing for a climbing trip can be an arduous task. Do I have everything? Do I have too much? How heavy is your bag compared to mine? Why is that bag so heavy? I’ll repack. It’s still heavy. Is your bag still heavy? What the hell. This continued on until 11pm, which isn’t ideal when you plan on waking up at 2:30am. You throw in the towel on packing at the point when you realize that you need food and water to survive, and in any number of situations you need X amount of items. That’s what you take, and that’s what you deal with…
The wee hours of the morning came too quickly and we were cruising up the highway, then out the cat track towards Chair 8, and then down into the Nooksack drainage. Even in the dark of the morning, I could feel the walls of the peaks rising above and closing in. At the bottom we began touring over creeks and through the woods. By dusk we hit the edge of the forest and were amazed to see pile on top of pile of avalanche debris. We aren’t talking tiny piles, I’m talking over head height with chunks larger than a refrigerator. The crowns way above us were enormous. We cruised up the drainage, over the avy debris and arrived at the bottom of the White Salmon Glacier.
From the ski area, anyone can tell that Shuksan is a large mountain, but the scale of just how large is skewed. The Arm stretches much farther than it appears; Shuksan seems to be much closer and therefore smaller in size. When you stand at the bottom looking up and around, the scale is magnified and it is almost daunting. We skinned up the WSG until edging became difficult and dangerous. Difficult is fine, but when slipping off a cliff becomes a possibility, you to switch to crampons. We continued up the crusty snow and tip toed across snow bridges spanning large crevasses. We hadn’t roped up so a crumbling snow bridge would result in a bit of a rescue mission or self extraction, if possible. Luckily enough, this wasn’t an issue.
Near the top of the glacier, Dan Helmstadter – mountain goat meets gazelle – may as well have jogged past us. He was friendly and moved with unbelievable speed and grace. Yes, he summited that day and made a fairly sizeable tour back to his car. Shortly after he blew the proverbial doors off our posse, which was moving at a fine pace, we encountered Russell Cunningham. Turns out I’d met Russell in REI years earlier, talking about flukes (snow protection, not people) and making faces as if he didn’t trust them. Russell also knows Jason, and since he was out and about on his own we welcomed him into our posse. The four of us moved upward and onward, chatting, clicking photos, and snacking.
At the top of the White Salmon Glacier, we reevaluated. Time and minor issues were our concerns. We could summit, but that would make for a likely descent by headlamp. I don't know how awesome riding through steep, firm, heavily crevassed terrain sounds to you, but it doesn't sound all that rad to me. Luckily enough, Jason, Brandon, and Russell all felt the same way. Instead, Russell and Brandon cruised over the Upper Curtis to check out the NW Couloir. Jason and I chilled and made water for the group. It turned into a nice ridge top relax session. Walking around, taking more photos, laying in the sun. Pretty awesome overall. An hour later, Brandon and Russell returned and we headed on out.
We talked our route over and decided that the steeper slope with less crevasse openings was the proper way to head down the mountain. With the firmness and pitch of the slope, we all rode with axes out. A fall would mean a terrifyingly fast ride down a few thousand feet. If you were lucky, you would make it to the bottom of the drainage in record speed with some serious raspberries. If you were unlucky, you could slide straight off a cliff. We took our time and regrouped in a few different spots, sinking axes into the firm snowpack and resting our feet.
The long way down took a long time. As darkness grew in the valley, the four of us snowboarded back down through avy debris and into the forest. This wasn't the end of the day. At this point we'd been traveling for 12 hours, were hungry, getting irritated and in need of skinning up to the parking lot. Well, this drainage is especially steep and the snow was rotten. Instead of skinning we bootpacked through crotch deep manky snow, swapping leads so no one got too aggravated. That was that. We didn't summit, but nothing bad happened either.
Our night ended at Chair 9. Well, no. Actually our night ended on the side of the Mt Baker Highway. Three adults sleeping in a VW Golf hatchback. It was cozy, to say the least.
Comments
Post a Comment