Outdoor Research Verticulture » North Cascades http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com Get Stoked! Outdoor Research Verticulture Wed, 08 Feb 2012 01:23:11 +0000 en hourly 1 http://wordpress.org/?v=3.2.1 Isolation Traverse http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2011/08/isolation-traverse/ http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2011/08/isolation-traverse/#comments Thu, 18 Aug 2011 20:24:53 +0000 Teresa Bruffey http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/?p=7061

Tom, working the tele w/ a full pack. Photo by Jason

There are many reasons to venture out into the mountains; solitude and the clear mind that comes from being free of cell phones, computers, and scheduled commitments of any kind. Even eating takes on such planned simplicity that there is little decision making involved. In fact the only decisions that you must make as a ski mountaineer are those that will get you from point A to B safely and fulfilled. Our June traverse from Cascade Pass to Diablo had that simplicity: sleep, eat, ski, repeat.

Different things turn different people on about a traverse in the Cascades. For some it’s getting it done as quickly as possible, others are out there to stand on summits, for me it’s finding great snow on fun slopes whether off ridgelines, summits, or the couloirs along the route. On our Isolation Traverse we encountered everything from crust to corn and low angle glacier to steep salt and pepper.

For this crew, it’s the downhill that drives journeys into mountains. Adam Roberts, Jesse and Jason Hummel and I found everything from puckering jump turns to soul turns in corn on the glacier. It doesn’t have to be scary; turns are turns and the more the better.

Early on in the traverse we took a layover to explore the area around Eldorado. Moving across the Inspiration Glacier we came to where it met the McAllister. Looking across at Dorado Needle our eyes were drawn to a huge cornice hanging over a beautiful pitch. “Hey Adam, I’ll ro-sham-bo you for it…” but he was already on his way up the Inspiration. Beautiful turns were left on an aesthetic line as Adam ripped 7 perfect arcs down the slope. It was a line we would all ski again the next day as we continued on to Backbone Ridge.




The long gentle traverse under Backbone Ridge was the same mellow slope that the Skoogs had slowly climbed when they pioneered the route in the opposite direction so many years ago. That night, as we set up camp, the Cascades reminded us that we were in the Northwest as the clouds rolled in. Over the next few days we flew by wire using a handheld GPS past Wilcox Lakes and up and over Isolation Peak as we neared Snowfield Peak and the Neve Glacier.
On our fifth day we got to camp early and set up on the shoulder of Snowfield Peak. A blanket of low clouds left only the tallest peaks sticking out like islands. It was beautiful. We could see back over nearly our entire route from Eldorado to Dorado Needle to Backbone Ridge, Isolation Peak and the sloping snowfield that we climbed to camp. With so many hours of daylight remaining we headed up Snowfield Peak through sugary snow on scree. It was nice to gain the summit and the view it afforded us, reaching even further than our view from camp. The ski from the summit was rough with the last skiers having the hardest time picking their way between the rocks and trying to link what patches of sugar hadn’t sloughed off. We returned to camp, it was time for dinner – a simple task.

After dinner the sun was still well above the horizon. The late evening light on the slope we had climbed earlier in the day was too much to resist; corn snow on a perfect 30-degree pitch descending towards the clouds. Clouds were slowly rising and falling, pouring over the lower passes below camp giving the evening a moodiness that wasn’t quite angry, more mysterious than ominous.

So with nearly empty packs we hiked up above camp, out on to the snowfield, cheering each other on as, one at a time, we laid down turns in the late evening sun. There was nothing difficult about the skiing that evening. The snow was soft and shallow with a surfy quality that held the edge of our skis with softness you’d expect more from water in its liquid form than its crystal form. These were the quintessential soul turns that are the reason we strap boards to our feet in the first place. Even after a long day of travel it was the light that finally ended our little feel-good session. After each of us had taken 4 or 5 laps, the sun dipped below the horizon and we were left in the twilight to climb into our bags for a good night sleep before our return to civilization.

Our return to said civilization was swift. The glacier gave way to glades and ravines on the shoulder of Pyramid Peak and the snow slowly dissolved into the warmth of old cedar trees and then the trail to the road where we traded our boots, Gore-Tex, and water bottles for flip-flops, t-shirts, and IPA…Classic.

]]> http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2011/08/isolation-traverse/feed/ 0 Mt. Buckner, North Face http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/05/mt-buckner-north-face/ http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/05/mt-buckner-north-face/#comments Wed, 05 May 2010 22:27:25 +0000 Jason Hummel http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/?p=3199

Hidden dangers on the Boston Glacier. Jason, stemming the deep crevasse. Photo by Steph Abegg

Mountains have personality. We forget and all is forgiven, even when they are cantankerous, belligerent and vile. The pretty face and homely smile, seductive pull and salacious dress of rock and ice excite us climbers too much to turn away and never come back. But there, too, are so many mountains. Just a fraction of them you may visit in a lifetime! So when I do go, it isn’t with a heavy heart thinking that I may never return, but with great respect and honor that I go to meet these elders of stone and earth. They teach us lessons and reward us in ways that the confines of brick and mortar can’t.

Steph is ready when I pull up to her house in Seattle at 4 a.m. We quickly proceed to a nearby park-and-ride where Kyle is waiting. Everyone is excited. The weather appears promising. Stories and conversation carry us all the way to the end of Cascade River Road, where the final few miles are blocked by a gate. We can not see our objective, Mount Buckner. All that is visible among vine maple, willows and firs is Johannesburg’s vertical mile of rock and ice. Imposing as it is, such dominance steals an otherwise sunny morning. Those rays are for creaking joints and aching shoulders to earn. Such required efforts are why I love North Cascades National Park so much.

Along an old overgrown road, we push through deep and wet snow over ice. Steph and her snowshoes make headway while Kyle and I wallow behind, unable to skin without slipping. As we leave the trees, in no time at all we meet sunshine and the Quien Sabe Glacier. Steep climbing at its head, half a day later, brings us over Sharkfin Col where there’s an anchor set-up. What makes for an easy rappel leaves us swimming in waist deep snow below. “Hello there Mr. Schrund, you mind not eating me?”

Unconsolidated snow on a glacier, especially the Boston, the widest glacier in the lower 48, convinces us to rope up. Every dip and swale, shadow and curve hides a potential monster beneath snowy covers. Repeatedly I decide which way to go. Up, down, or straight? And now my brain fires off an answer, “Straight.” As I push through the snow, a tiny shadow I hadn’t seen glares at me. “Oh no!” I think. Between my feet everything begins to crumble. My skis catch the far wall as my back slides backwards. Blocks of snow disappear past a narrowing in the crevasse 50 feet below. After a moment to gather myself and yell behind me, “Kyle, anchor me…can you have Steph come forward?” Several minutes pass and I begin to feel comfortable, so I pull out my camera and take a few photos. Moments later with further tension on the rope from Steph, I am able to wiggle out. After brushing snow off, I’m soon back on my skis and in the lead once again. My decision this time when I ask myself “up, down, or straight?” “Left,” because down is a bad choice of words.




One lesson I relearned is the importance of always keeping the rope tight between you and the guy in front. I weigh 160 lbs and my pack and gear another 60. Imagine standing on a 10 story building with 220 lbs strapped to you. If the rope is tight and it falls a foot or two, you can hold it. Imagine then a guy standing on the buildings edge with that same 220 lbs with 10-ft of slack. Could you hold it when suddenly without warning (an hour, 3 hours, or even15 hours into your day) you look up and don’t see anything? Now that’s something to think about when you’re roped up on a glacier again!

On a nice overlook of Mount Buckner, we make camp. The sky is hazy and wind is beginning to drive snow into our camp where eating and melting water takes a few hours before we all drift off into a restless sleep. There’s nothing like waking up repeatedly to slapping layers of tent. It’s like trying to fall asleep next to a rocket engine! I awake to Steph photographing first rays on Buckner.

That morning, two feet of wind-deposited snow covered our tent and gear. After digging it all out, we start upward. Not until that moment do I realize my sunglasses are gone. It appears the crevasse didn’t come away empty handed! Staying low, I cross beneath the lower schrunds to the base of the North Face where we put on crampons and take out axes.

Since Steph is ready first, she takes off in the lead up wind-buffed powder. One thousand feet higher she passes a rocky constriction on the left and soon after, on the lee side of a cliff, she pulls up for a rest. After a drink she says, “Jason, you want to lead?” Since we are only a 100-ft shy of the summit I reply, “No, you should finish it off.” I know I feel excited when I lead an entire route. Once her pack is on that’s what she does, quickly disappearing over the slope and to the summit ridge beyond.

Ascending the final few feet to the summit of Buckner

On the maps Buckner’s NE and SE summits are shown as 9112’ and 9114’, respectively. Still, there’s a valid disagreement as to which is higher. From our perspective the NE summit did appear taller. All aside, though, as a skier I’m more interested in fall-line. So, for us, the SE summit is the only way to descend the north face. The same can’t be said for the North Face Couloir and when I come back to ski it, I’ll descend from the NE summit.

While my partners prepare for descending I continue to the SE summit to find a flat spot to transition to skis. Doing a balancing act, I teeter trying not to slip in either direction. Wind pushes me one way then the other, and neither direction would have a happy ending. I glide to Kyle who has built a huge platform to put his splitboard together in. Knowing she would be far behind, Steph, who is without skis or board, downclimbs out of sight while I stand in chilly gusts and wait for Kyle.

A satisfying first turn traverses me onto the face and Kyle follows. From the far ridge, which had blocked the wind all morning, fingers of snow and ice rip across, swirling and churning as watery rapids will. They whirl and stall in eddies before spinning out of control on top of our heads, which drip and freeze at the same time. Between this chaos, we drop a few turns at a time until we are in the middle of the route, at which point we wait as Steph climbs out of the way. Here the wind lessens and the turns improve all the way to the bottom. What a descent. What a route. After a decade of dreaming about it, I finally came and skied it – awesome!

After sorting camp, we decide to climb over Boston Peak’s 8500-ft col rather than Sharkfin col, the way we had come. It takes much longer to climb than I expect and the upper slopes are getting hit hard by wind. At a point where I am about to reverse course over concern about stability, the snowpack solidifies and we boot the remainder of the way to the notch. I love it when a fine line of safe decisions leads to success.

Heights of Buckner and our route up

After setting a picket, Steph descends out of sight and to the end of the rope. I belay her another 25 meters from there. Next up is Kyle. He decides he is going to keep his snowboard on. Just as he drops out of sight, I hear him say something like, “It looks good.” The wind is too strong to catch much more than that. A few moments later, the rope goes slack. He went without a belay. Figuring since he boarded it, I’d be fine with skis as well, I attach mine to my feet and drop into the couloir. As I get closer and see what Kyle had descended, I shake my head in wonder. Snowboards can side-slip some serious stuff! There was an inch of ice over a foot of granular snow with rock beneath. I hung from my knots at the end of the rope below a small cliff while I took my pack and skis off, pulled my axes and pons out, and put everything back on, a process that took over 15 minutes of cautious work. All the while I’m getting pelted by falling ice and buffeted by wind. Overall, a most unpleasant experience! Happily I descend far enough to coil the rope and put my skis on, so I could drop down to Kyle who is very glad to get going. There wasn’t much light left. Steph is already 45 minutes ahead of us.

As we stormed down the Quien Sabe Glacier with 5000-ft to go and 10-minutes of light left, I am already forgiving Buckner for her tormenting of me. In these mountains, there are those who find the rewards far outweigh the risks. For me, these adventures are the great eraser. There’s nothing but the moment to battle and all worries and concerns are rubbed out because they are of no consequence here. Even as night pulls up her covers and we pull out our headlamps, we understand the value of challenge in a world that continually seeks out ways to make life easier. The last few miles battling through brush to Cascade River Road and renewed sights of Johannesburg’s great walls fills me with joy all the way back to the car and civilization.

Find more of Jason’s photos from his Mt. Buckner trip at Alpine State of Mind and more stories of his adventures on Cascade Crusades. You can also read Steph’s take on the trip here.

]]> http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/05/mt-buckner-north-face/feed/ 0 Launching into the Unknown http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/02/launching-into-the-unknown/ http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/02/launching-into-the-unknown/#comments Tue, 23 Feb 2010 22:44:45 +0000 Blake Herrington http://outdoorresearchverticulture.com/?p=2071 “I would like the experience at some point this year of launching up a wall and into the unknown…”

The above was written by my friend Rad Roberts last spring, acutely distilling an alpinist’s desire for exploration into one line of email. But desire is a foe ill-suited to stormy Northwest weather. So after a summer of missed chances, a forecasted few days of sun was all we needed to put plans into action.




We left Seattle at 5AM, en route to Sloan Peak (7,800′). The Southwest face was 1,500′ of solid-looking stone in an accessible location. It had never been climbed…

Rad so strongly wanted to launch into the unknown, so after a few miles of old-growth and alpine meadows, I let him take the first pitch. A mossy chimney leads to who-knows-where. From atop the chimney progress slows, but movement is interjected with whoops of joys and grunts of desperation. I prepare to get sandbagged. Instead of the vegetated corner, Rad’s following a line of previously-unseen –and overhanging– splitter cracks. Forty more feet and he’s off belay, 15 meters of slack pulled up, and I’m on.

I reacquaint myself with backpack-clad squirming, lean a right shoulder into the wall and pray the rubber on my comically blown-out shoes will adhere for a few more moves. The climbing is phenomenal, and well-protected. I trundle some blocks and barely hang on between desperate finger locks.

We trace a line up thin cracks and delicately-featured rock. Dodging left around a huge roof, Rad dances up a right-facing dihedral, belaying along a major ledge system 400′ up.

We survey our situation: time, water, location… and I’m off. With another steep unknown wall looming, it’s time for some speed.

The rock here is even cleaner. My pitch flows without hesitation. This is why we climb. Reach up for the jam, stem out to the knob, 3 more moves to a stance and gear…At 50 meters I ease onto a pedestal, and I’m staring at a rusty Lost Arrow Piton! We suspect someone had come across the long ledge which splits the face and also belayed atop the pillar.

Check out the next page! »

]]> http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/02/launching-into-the-unknown/feed/ 0 Going Full Circle http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2009/12/going-full-circle/ http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2009/12/going-full-circle/#comments Mon, 21 Dec 2009 16:36:04 +0000 Jason Hummel http://outdoorresearchverticulture.com/?p=1206 var jsSlideshow = new Array(); jsSlideshow.push("http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/643407539_vxqdx-m.jpg"); jsSlideshow.push("http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/642951811_qferf-m.jpg"); jsSlideshow.push("http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/642949679_ruxcy-m.jpg"); jsSlideshow.push("http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/642727510_datjh-m.jpg"); jsSlideshow.push("http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/642718638_hkdg7-m.jpg"); jsSlideshow.push("http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/642716823_qmzhh-m.jpg"); jsSlideshow.push("http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/638532227_y3s42-m.jpg"); jsSlideshow.push("http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/638529446_zw2n4-m.jpg"); jsSlideshow.push("http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/637740021_o72ry-m.jpg"); jsSlideshow.push("http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/637655178_a58aj-m.jpg"); jsSlideshow.push("http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/637616485_vcleu-m.jpg"); jsSlideshow.push("http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/636387996_hooiu-m.jpg"); jsSlideshow.push("http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/636295381_aqqee-m.jpg"); jsSlideshow.push("http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/635957329_n73oi-m.jpg"); jsSlideshow.push("http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/635353112_umq55-m.jpg");


Blueberries on the way to Upper Anderson Tarn

Blueberries on the way to Upper Anderson Tarn


In 2006, I made a crossing of the Ptarmigan Traverse – over 100 miles of ridges, rivers, glaciers, and roads – with a self-propelled return. Since then, this type of adventure has appealed to me. It combines several of the sports I love, and when you are transported at more humanly paces – not by auto, train or plane – you get to ‘smell the roses’. It’s like eating cake and ice cream, too!

The North Cascade traverse from Mount Watson to Blum appeared perfect for this sort of outing. With my kayak, bike and hiking gear crammed into my car and my last few dollars into its gas tank, I headed into the mountains.

My little brother, Jessy, joined me and we let gear at the end of Baker Lake Road and Baker Lake before arriving at our final destination, the Watson Lake Trailhead. Josh and Christy joined us for the day. Except for the bike ride back up to Watson, Jessy would keep me company for the next 9 days.

Day One and Two: Watson Trailhead to Diobsud Lakes

Mt. Baker from our camp below Watson's summit.

Mt. Baker from our camp below Watson's summit.

A nice trail for the first 2 miles was the last we’d see for a week. We explored the area heading to Upper Anderson Lakes and the lower slopes of Mount Watson. The way forward captivated us. Since we couldn’t imagine leaving the high country for Diobsud Lakes, we soon found camp. That night we watched as bright stars tumbled out from behind dark mountains.

Morning sun and clouds rose long before we did. With curious glances ahead, our eyes met sloping heather fields nestled below cliffs and sights of Diobsud Lakes.

We dropped into a huge meadow of Fireweed, Daisy’s, Salmon Berries and Cow Parsnip’s. After a rest, we proceeded up the wrong side of a waterfall toward a ramp on the south side of Bacon Peak. For several hours we struggled through grizzled, arthritic hunks of trees more dead than alive and masqueraded ourselves as tree huggers between cliffs before submitting defeat. Scratched and bruised we arrived below the waterfall once more.

After camp was set, Jessy and I left split up to find a way up Bacon Peak. Just before dark Jessy burst out from the brush. He had found a way. Two smiles were shared before it began to rain. The tap, tap on the tent at bedtime left me ill-at-ease. As good luck eventually follows bad, I dreamt of blue skies.

Day Three and Four: Diobsud Lakes, Bacon and Green lakes to Nert Lake

Coming down Bacon Peak

Coming down Bacon Peak

My dreams weren’t ignored. Under blue skies, over huge logs and small cliffs, beyond steep, slick heather, up further we climbed to the top of Bacon. At the summit, views of the Pickets and all the mountains between hoisted our desire to see what was around the next corner. We wound our way through a few glaciers and ridges before finally descending hard ice to smooth rock slabs.

First sights of Bacon Laken set above Green Lake kept us moving fast. We ran down the last rock fields to the outlet falls of the lake. Fording the falls was easy enough, although more water would be challenging.

Camp was set as light eased into a peaceful slumber. Under the moon’s scope, the waterfall and lake were inebriated, moving in slow motion like the stars.

The next morning rain came again. The cerulean outlines of Green Lake pleaded with us to come explore and to our dismay, we packed camp and set off. We went along the lake shore thinking it would be easier than the ridge. Easy ground morphed into a waterfall, the climbing of which was fast becoming a forte of ours, and traversed mid-falls on a ledge to enter slide alder.

Green Lake with lumbering clouds overhead.

Green Lake with lumbering clouds overhead.

We climbed steep then gentle slopes to Nert Lake. Our progress was subverted by never ending fields of the biggest blueberries I’ve ever seen. Blue fingers and faces brought us to camp.

Day Five through Seven: Nert Lake, Berdeen and Blum Lakes to Baker River

The way to Berdeen Lake either goes high or low. We went low entering a beautiful valley just as a black bear crossed boulders in the midst of a waterfall.

From the meadow we climbed up a steep gully to Berdeen Lake. With our exploring done, we we struck camp with time to relax. For Jessy this meant a swim to an island and fishing. For me, a nap and photos.

In the morning, we regretted having to leave. We traversed rock and then glacier up to a narrow pass between Skitzo and Hagan Peaks. A quick jaunt to Hagan was much enjoyed. Nearly all that we had crossed in the days previous could be sighted.

A heck of a place to take a nap. Berdeen Lake

A heck of a place to take a nap. Berdeen Lake

Steep boulder fields were carefully crossed on our downward hike to Blum Lakes. We made camp in a grassy field and spent the remaining hours watching the fire and smoke from blazes to the Northeast.

I’ve been up and down from Mount Blum twice and the experience was less than enticing. Over 5000-ft of forest and bushes split by cliffs. The descent can reward excessive amounts of suck. It’s best to stay on the ridge. If you descend off of it, you become blocked by steep ravines full of slide alder and rocks. Jessy and I spent 7 hours descending less than 2 miles.

More steep forest led to vague boot paths. Bashing our way through the last remaining Devil’s Club, we arrived at Baker River. Feeling like warriors, we marched to the car, eyes sparkling in the late day’s sun with satisfaction over completing what we had set out to do.

Day Eight and Nine: Baker River, Baker Lake to Watson Road and Trailhead

Chilled waters high from the mountains all meet in Baker Lake. Once a natural lake, the river was dammed twice in 1925 and 1959 to create Lake Shannon and Baker. As promised, my twin brother Josh joined us. Cramming our gear into boats and dry packs was a challenge as we were sparing no comforts.

Though the river isn’t long, there were plenty of massive trees to slow us down. Over and under we went until we arrived at the lake. Far above Shuksan and Baker’s glaciers shined in the sun.

Jessy and Josh kayaking past a massive tarn. Mt. Baker in the distance.

Jessy and Josh kayaking past a massive tarn. Mt. Baker in the distance.

Halfway to camp we stopped for several seal launches. Jessy and Josh couldn’t get enough and found another spot a few more miles down the shore.

The last few hours to Maple Grove Camp were spent battling the wind of whose presence I’d earlier said, “At least we don’t have a headwind.” Now that we did, the brothers could only blame me. We were relieved to pull our boats onto the shore.

The last day was both sad and happy for me. With so much adventure this year, it was hard to see this one come to pass and be finished. What else was there? No more big trips were planned. This was it. Parting ways, Jessy and Josh jumped in their car and I was on my own now, at least no human companions. The mosquitoes were ruthless as I climbed into the bushes to retrieve my bike.

Around 3700-ft of vertical gain was ahead of me and 10 miles of road. Far below me the blue waters of Baker Lake appeared small.

At the car, heart pounding, I sat not wanting to leave. Could I do it again? Could I throw my pack on and put foot to trail, paddle to lake, and cleat to peddle? Would it be the same? You only live through these days once and they are gone. As my mind raced over every moment I knew I’d certainly smelled the roses along the way. I’d gone full circle and isn’t it the best of journey’s that bring you back to their beginning?

Read more stories by Jason on Cascade Crusades and check out more of his incredible photos at Alpine State of Mind.

]]> http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2009/12/going-full-circle/feed/ 0 The Making of an AMGA Guide http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2009/12/the-making-of-an-amga-guide/ http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2009/12/the-making-of-an-amga-guide/#comments Tue, 08 Dec 2009 01:36:39 +0000 Martin Volken http://outdoorresearchverticulture.com/?p=587 This glimpse into the rigors of testing guides go through to become certified by the AMGA makes it incredibly apparent how skilled and talented they are. Martin Volken – IFMGA guide, instructor/examiner for the AMGA ski mountaineering program, and owner of ProGuiding Service based in North Bend, WA – shot this video during a recent AMGA Alpine Exam in the North Cascades.

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