Elk Mountains, Castle Peak, East Face.

Dropping into the East face, Castle Peak (14,265'). Photo: Niels Davis

     On our last break of the year, I decided to ski instead of going climbing.  This choice has become less rare, especially as we learn some of the better spots.  This is the first time all year that the steeps have given us full-on green-light conditions. Mike, Andrew, Niels and I went to the Elk Mountains and straight away decided to skin 6 or 7 miles up to Castle Peak.   We made good time getting to the face, and snapped some beta photos.  The upper section of the face features some very steep, blind rollovers, and to pick a safe line you need to extrapolate your position from above.
Andrew, Niels, and I climbed a couloir to the looker's right of our descent line, and then scrambled the north ridge with skis on our backs.  By 12:30 we were on the summit.

On the Summit, with the Bells to the west.

 We zoned out on the summit for a while, stared at the maroons, and grabbed a bite.  The feathery mare's tails of icy cloud signaled coming weather, and indeed, it would storm on us for the next couple days.
     We locked our boots in and began a steep descent on soft but variable snow.  Most of the face was fun, dense, responsive wind-powder.  Lower down we found soft snow in the middle of spring transformaiton, aka. mashed potatoes. Here it took some real effort to stay on-top.  Every rollover brought a bit of mystery, but we knew where to go.  Since I had the camera, I picked my way through the cliff-band first and found a safezone on a snowy rib.  I shot Niels and Andrew as they took more aggressive lines.  This was one of the best days any of us have had on skis, and the East face of Castle is truly dream terrain for mountain skiing.

Andrew drops in.

Niels

       Edward met up with us, and in a merry group of 5 we did another day trip near marble.  This time we did a couple of laps on the north face of Justice peak.  The sun eventually turned crisp powder into soup with a tendency to move.  By about 2pm, the face was coming loose.  Point sluffs were turning into moving slush trains, gaining alot of mass but never alot of speed.  I'm not sure if I would call this activity avalanche, since outrunning and even skiing through it was easy.  The efforts of these little slides to swallow our skis were hilarious. It was a strange and surreal experience, like petting a bear cub.  It was hard to remember that the real, grown up thing is powerful beyond reason.  Once the sun sluffs had stripped the powder, we took another lap on a peak to the northwest, skiing a leg-pumping shot of corn straight back to the road. 

Andrew givin 'er on the north side of Justice Peak. 4 turns in 600 ft.

The same face after some sun action.

The good weather started to go, and we called it off and went back partway to the springs.  On saturday, in a storm of sorts, we skiied the silver couloir on Buffalo Mountain.  It hadn't seen much sun so most of it was steep and chattery hardpack.  Not the best day, but still a chance to get out and do a continuous ~2600ft descent.  

   In the afternoon my friends regrettably found out about a free concert and spend the afternoon reveling in some sort of played-out 90s blues-jam scene at Breckenridge.  We should have just taken another lap on Buffalo instead, but alas, now I have Blues Traveler lyrics and harmonica solos drilled into my head.  The only cure I know is more vert and lots of dry electronic music.  I vow never to return to 'breck' for any reason.  And for that matter, summit county.  Although the Silver Couloir was a fun ski, it was a bad weather day and everyone(and their dog, and their mother's dog) was still stacked nose-to-ass on the skin track.  So crowded.

   We will have to make it back to the Elks though.  The approaches are prohibitively long for most, and the terrain is perfect for the kind of skiing we do.  This combination makes for big solitary days in the high mountains, and it might be as good as it gets here in Colorado.

 

Justice.

Pikes Peak: Y-Couloir

     We had a killer day on the mountain: all ten of us.  CC went gorillas on Pikes Peak this weekend.  I made last minute plans with Chris Dickson to ski the Y-Couloir.  I had no idea that we would be such a huge crew, but it was all the merrier with enough steep and sweet turns to go around.
   10 of us cruised the hero traverse with the golden Corinthian Column above and an 800 foot wall below. Hanson and Matt were climbing, and they started their way up Blind Assumption, a great mixed route.  8 of us continued into the Y-Couloir and found wind-sculpted powder and hard sastrugi.  Chris and I dug a pit and tested the windblown mess.  Our layer of concern was a strange localized layer that that showed up suddenly this season.  About half a meter down there was some reddish dust, blown from who knows where, at a clear interface.  We isolated it, whacked it, whacked it some more, and found the snow to be well bonded.  Springtime at last!

Traversing below the Corinthian Column. Photos: Chris Dickson

Climbing through the ski crux.  Photos: Chris Dickson

  We were unable to believe that it would be powder(ish) conditions on this mega classic(and local) line. We boot-packed it, not even needing crampons.  Parker went right, climbing the steeper variation to the Y. At the end of the couloir we made it through a loose, dry, and scrappy section, topped out, and scored some doughnuts in the tourist's lodge. I filled my nalgene with mountain dew from the soda machine, wanting to get the full-on backcountry 14er experience.  We kicked out some platforms after descending the rock section, and dropped in for one of the best ski descents on the front range.

Photos: Chris Dickson

The mixed top-out. Photos: Chris Dickson

Nate, Andrew, and myself on the summit. Photos: Chris Dickson

Clicking in. Photos: Chris Dickson

Pike's gave us the best. It may not be the real back-country, but it sure feels like it once you're on the north face. The snow was soft and forgiving.  Everyone skied well, making it through the dicey sections with grace.  On the way up, we came to the consensus that someone would take a direct line through the crux cliff mid-height.  On the way down, while myself and the rest threaded around to the side, Andrew DesLauriers stepped up and aired out the cliff without hesitation, making it look casual and linking big turns.

Photos: Chris Dickson

Photos: Chris Dickson

     It was a great day out, and a chance to get a good feel for the steeps before (possibly) heading to the Maroon Bells next week.  I am impressed every time by the skill and the psyche in the CC community, and I feel lucky to share in a day like this.

Canadian Rockies: pt. 3, Curtain Call

Curtain Call III WI6. March 2014.

 This is one of those lines that you need to see only once.  It takes hold of you and never lets go.  I remember seeing it in Will Gadd's book years ago, and I knew I had to climb it. 

All the Belays were in protected caves.  This is the first.

Brett leading out on the first pitch, 60m of fragile, steep ice.

 We soloed a short 10m step of vert ice and established ourselves in a nice cave.  Brett took pitch 1, leading the climbers-left side of the pillar.  It was a rope stretcher with relentless angle and consistent chandeliers and mushrooms.  Zach and I followed very quickly. The next cave was quite like the first, but with a persistent drip of water above, soaking to the bone.  I racked up quickly and left my friends to get drenched, starting up one of the strangest pitches of ice I have ever led. 

I stemmed, chimneyed, and eventually squeezed my way out a narrow window in the face of the pillar.  The window provided a terrain belay, and protection was mostly unnecessary.  I took my time, enjoying the massive exposure and climbing in the warm sun. I ran it out until I was above the fracture line, and the sticks sounded solidly instead of shaking the pillar with them.  I started placing screws and finished the last 30 meters of steep ice to the top, finding some shallow stems in which to take a few deep breaths.  It was thoughtful ice, with many fragile features, but for the most part it was a surprisingly easy pitch. By the time Brett and Zach followed the clouds had moved back over the sun, and they were soaked from the drip at the dark belay.  We all rapped quickly with little time to relax.

Leading the crux, pitch 2.  About to exit through the window and onto the front face of the pillar.

We originally wanted to go big in the alpine, but after finishing Curtain Call, our trip is complete for me.  We're not going to force anything in these conditions, but I think there might be a few more climbs in store for us before we go back to the grind.

Dropping pillows the next day below the Crowfoot Glacier.

Canadian Rockies: pt.2 Columbia Icefield

Snowdome, with the route Slipstream at center.

Skiing onto the ice of the Athabasca

    In the last few days there’s been alot of snow on unstable layers, and alpine climbing is now out of the question.  To kill some time we decided to take a flat ski up the Athabasca Glacier to see some peaks as the afternoon sky cleared up.  Our dream routes were looking good, but it’ll have to be another season. It would be pushing the snow a bit too hard to get into steep alpine terrain at the moment, and unfortunately we can't wait until april.
   Hopefully we can get some good water ice done before we head back to the states.  We're going to have to pick and choose carefully; most of the good ice here has hazard on approach, overhead, or all over the damn place.  If we cant go big, we can leave with some photos and some new goals for later.

The North Face of Mount Andromeda.  The Andromeda strain is the prominent corner system in the center of the face.

Brett surveying the north face of Andromeda

The storms moved back in to dump again...

Canadian Rockies: pt.1, The Ghost

The Sorcerer IV WI5

    Zach Keskinen, Brett Bakey, and I showed up after over 20 hours of driving.  First we went out to the Ghost river to find some big ice with low avelanche hazard.  The weather has been bad and snow conditions in the Rockies are unstable this spring, but the east slope is generally dry and can be safer.
   The front range rises dramatically from the plains, and there's almost no development.  Approaches are long and difficult, first with hours of driving on destroyed roads, ice, and riverbeds, and then with hours of hiking and post-holing.   We decided to do The Sorcerer.  Despite the cornice looming over the route, the approach slopes are safe.

A view of The Real Big Drip

The Sorcerer

Feeling less than great after driving past midnight

Zach leads pitch 1

Brett leads pitch 3

On the crux, p 4.

The crux was the blown out road.

The Weeping Wall, lower right hand side, WI5, 3 pitches.

Brett beginning the long crux pitch.

 We had a quick ski-tour near Lake Louise. The weather wasn't exactly photo weather, but we skiied up to the toe of a glacier and reveled in the low visibility. We got some mellow turns on the way down. 
   The storming continued, but we decided to head up the parkway do the Lower Weeping Wall, which also has very limited avy hazard even with heavy new snow.  It was a wet day out on good ice. 
  Our hopes for the alpine are limited.  We have another 6 days here, and it's only going to snow more on those funky layers.  If we're lucky then we'll at least get to see some of the big faces, and we'll keep climbing classic water ice.

Brett at the crux.

Bridal Veil Falls and the Talisman

Bridal Veil, Telluride, CO. WI5/6

    Even if we had called it off last week, it would be the best season of climbing, well, ever.  But why would we?

    Brett Baekey and I drove to Buena Vista and met David Fay, who graduated CC last year and now teaches math at HMI in Leadville.  That night we crashed in the basement of the Sumggler's Pub in downtown Telluride. We got up at the crack of dawn and hiked it up to the sickest ice in Colorado. 

   In summer, water drops 365 feet without touching rock.  Come winter, blue chandeliers grow on the overhanging rock walls and link together to form a Gothic cathedral of ice.

Brett and David on approach.

   My friend and dedicated alpine partner Carl Deane called Jack Roberts a friend, hero, and mentor.  Jack's passing on Bridal Veil falls took everyone by surprise, and I think it shook Carl's world more than I could imagine.  For me, this climb had connotations of danger, and climbing it seemed a dark proposition.  As Carl likes to say "lets roll the dice".

   Of course the only way to climb ice is in a state of control and calm. Once I found this head-space, I remembered to have fun. The conditions this time of year were easy, and we felt confident. This was steep, featured, type-one fun with more exposure than I could have imagined.  We took the right side.  Given another chance, I would try the cleaner, more aggressive, and more continuous left line.

The Spray Cone.

   Brett took us up pitch 1 with indomitable psyche.  The spray cone was huge, easily weighing hundreds of tons.  It obeys the physics of a glacier. Throughout the season, it separates from the falls above and moves down the smooth rock below, lurching and popping from time to time.  On Brett's lead, he stepped over a huge crack reminiscent of a bergschrund.  From the first large ledge I stemmed my way between daggers and mushrooms, pulling a small roof at the route's crux.  The ice was steep and thoughtful, but never did I go far without a good rest and a chance to collect myself.  At each moment, I took in the full exposure, feeling it's depth.  Not once did I want to be anywhere else, just there, pulling from one stick to the next in perfect ice.

Leading the crux, pitch 2. 

   I finished up the pitch on the bluest part of the pillar, at the center of the falls.  We pulled into a protected cave, and David led the final overhang on the route.  It was a beautiful pitch on twisted, hollow, complicated ice.  We rapped off and finished with the afternoon free.  We checked out the Cornet falls pillar, a moderate line closer to Telluride, and had some good laps.

David pulls out of the cave on pitch 3.

On Rappel

  

Brett everstoked Baekey

The Talisman:

The Talisman, Camp Bird Road, IV WI6 M6

   I'm not sure how our weekend could get better, but it did.  We went up Camp Bird road in search of the Talisman, hoping to find it still in.  It took a while to commit to the faceted snow slope on approach, and in hindsight that was the most committing move of the climb.  Once on the wall we found every pitch to be technically involved, steep, and wild.

   I took the first pitch, finding the ribbon on the right side sublimated down to rock and moss.  I pulled over ice petals and through steep ground, eventually climbing a pillar narrower than my shoulders for a couple body-lengths.
   Brett was stoked to take pitch 2, the crux.  He floated the overhanging daggers and hummocks, climbing quickly and confidently.  After the rising traverse and the route's pure ice crux, he pulled into an overhanging corner, climbing insecure mixed moves with poor gear in choss.  He displayed control and poise on the pitch, and his send was impressive to watch.  Falling anywhere would not have been good.

Brett at the crux, WI6 M6.  One of the raddest leads I've seen.

The steep mixed terrain on pitch 2.

David and I followed clean, and David racked up for pitch 3. It was the most exposed and photogenic part of the drip.  A couple of mixed moves led his out to a pedestal of ice improbably clinging to the wall.  300 feet of clean air swept below.  Updrafts suspended flakes of drifting snow, hanging and catching the light.  He pulled into fifteen feet of overhanging curtain, and onto the vertical headwall above.

David leads out on pitch 3.

The crux of p.3, WI5+.

the peak at the head of Yankee Boy Basin.

Following pitch 3.

The wildest hang-dangler this side of the Uncompaghre

We rapped the wall with the sun beginning to set.  Our headlamps were off on the dark hike back.  We shared in total contentment, deciding that it doesn't get much better than this.  The crux of the weekend was returning to real life.