We woke up early, I cant remember if we ate breakfast, what I do remember is that it took a certain member of the team an hour and a half to get up. Seriously, WTF? It was a frustrating start to what would be a frustrating day. We went over our plan again. Walk east across the reservation, don’t get caught, but in case of capture bullshit, bullshit, bullshit (non of us had a cent, so bribery was out of the question, unfortunately). We started down, plunge stepping and postholing through the knee deep snow along Double Creek. We followed the creek walking on its banks and its ice until we came to a frozen waterfall, where we then took a line of 4th class terrain on the north side of the creek, this is where our trip went from backpacking to classic alpine mountaineering. Over the course of 600 linear feet we dropped 1000 vertical feet. It was a mix of 4th and 5th class terrain, easily navigable but there were a few spots where the runout was less then desirable, and by that I mean 1000 feet to a lovely boulder field and then right into a frozen river. I remember one area along Double Creek where it was so steep we had to scoot and slide on our butts. There was absolutely nothing to throw a rope around. After 100 feet it was so steep we couldn’t see where we were going until we were there. Then it just cliffed out, I don’t mean it got steep, I mean woosh 500 feet into nothing. I can say now that I was starting to worry about our route. We found a nice little ledge and busted out the maps. During our map session I realized that I had zero water left and I think David was out as well. We spotted a ledge below us and decided we could rappel to it and then to another and then to the valley floor. We abandoned the rappel idea after not finding a suitable anchor site. After a total of about 3 hours of scrambling and perfecting our “ass sliding descent” technique the valley floor was within sight. All that was left was a 25 foot down climb over some barely 5.6 terrain, and a scramble down a boulder strewn class 4. We lowered our packs to Dan, who down climbed first. I was nervous when my turn came. I recall the rock being slick with frost or water and the down climb was very reachy for me, my stiff mountaineering boots were not ideally suited for such terrain. A slip meant a tumble down the long 4th class boulder field below. never has a 25 foot 5.6 psyched me out more. As I lowered my self over the ledge I was searching with my toe for my next move. I felt my hands sliding on the wet rock so I just went for it. I found a place for a foot, jammed it in and kept moving. Its bark was way worse than its bite.
Finally down on the valley floor, we cut across the boulder field into a wooded area and found water. We kicked at the ice futilely. With our axes we were able to chip a hole in it large enough to get water. I didn’t realize how thirsty I was until that water touched my lips. Ice cold mountain water, untainted by Iodine or a filter, I felt my whole body cool and I was instantly and wholly tired. It was almost as if my body was shutting down and resetting after the stress of the day, but my fatigue would have to wait. We were now on the valley floor beside the mostly frozen Dinwoody Creek. At the time we expected a leisurely walk out along the river, little did we know that we were just starting a tortuous three days of leg burning elevation loss and gain, four hundred feet here, five hundred there. We tried to walk along the river but found the ice too thin and the warm temperature on the south facing slopes above had caused the river to swell right up to the cliff walls. Once we realized that following the river was not a viable option we started up. I think the most frustrating aspect of the odyssey out was standing on a hilltop, seeing our objective less then a mile away, but then having to descend, ascend and descend again to get there. There was many times that in order to travel a half a mile we had to gain seven hundred feet and then loose it, and then gain it again. In order to skirt the cliffs along the river, that blocked our passage, we had to ascend from 8,500ft to 10,000ft. That day was certainly physically demanding, but I was loving it. The thrill of the unknown and challenging route finding topped off with the beauty of the Windriver Range makes for a fantastic day, but the day was not over yet. As we continued east the terrain got steeper and we were forced higher. At the start of a big descent, about 1500 feet David went ahead to scout the route while Dan and I decided that even though the sun was setting that we should hike as long as we could.
Fast forward two hours, we were standing on a ledge with an icy cliff above us, and a black abyss of unknown depth, impenetrable to our headlamps, below us. We couldn’t go back up, we couldn’t go down so we made camp. We tried throwing rocks and listening for the impact, we thought about lowering a light, hell I even whizzed off the ledge, but nothing gave us a clue as to how far up we were. I cant say the ledge wasn’t on our map because we didn’t have a map for this area, I know I know stupid. It was off our route and no one thought in a million years we would have to go that way. Let me paint a picture of our camp that night. A pretty good sized ledge, about 25 feet long and 10 feet wide. Not a bad place to camp right? Unfortunately all but a tiny patch of the ledge was far too steep to sleep on. There were three small trees on the ledge, two standing and one lying down. They provided our sleeping areas. Dan slept behind the standing tree, digging out a small hole, while David slept along the side of the fallen tree, both using the trees to stop them from rolling off the ledge in their sleep. Luckily I almost fit in the hole left by the roots of the fallen tree. I made it work. Since there was no room to set up the tent I slept wrapped in the footprint and Dan slept wrapped in the fly, while David slept wrapped in a tarp of some sort that he brought. As I reclined in my hole, my thoughts about the next day were interrupted by a strange sound above us. At first the sound was infrequent hollow pops, at their crescendo the pops were rapid and sounded like machinegun fire. Then came an impossibly loud and deep rumble, like a freight train roaring towards. Resonating in our chests, equal parts sound and sensation. Oh my god, rock sliding on rock. No one said anything. I held my breath wondering where the massive slab of rock would land, and if it would trigger more calving of the cliff face above. I breathed a breath of relief when I felt and heard the monstrous impact in the valley below. Sleep did not come easy that night. As the wind whipped my makeshift shelter around I lay awake looking for the stars and wondering about what was ahead of us and for the first time in my life I drifted off uncertain of tomorrow.
More to come!
Finally down on the valley floor, we cut across the boulder field into a wooded area and found water. We kicked at the ice futilely. With our axes we were able to chip a hole in it large enough to get water. I didn’t realize how thirsty I was until that water touched my lips. Ice cold mountain water, untainted by Iodine or a filter, I felt my whole body cool and I was instantly and wholly tired. It was almost as if my body was shutting down and resetting after the stress of the day, but my fatigue would have to wait. We were now on the valley floor beside the mostly frozen Dinwoody Creek. At the time we expected a leisurely walk out along the river, little did we know that we were just starting a tortuous three days of leg burning elevation loss and gain, four hundred feet here, five hundred there. We tried to walk along the river but found the ice too thin and the warm temperature on the south facing slopes above had caused the river to swell right up to the cliff walls. Once we realized that following the river was not a viable option we started up. I think the most frustrating aspect of the odyssey out was standing on a hilltop, seeing our objective less then a mile away, but then having to descend, ascend and descend again to get there. There was many times that in order to travel a half a mile we had to gain seven hundred feet and then loose it, and then gain it again. In order to skirt the cliffs along the river, that blocked our passage, we had to ascend from 8,500ft to 10,000ft. That day was certainly physically demanding, but I was loving it. The thrill of the unknown and challenging route finding topped off with the beauty of the Windriver Range makes for a fantastic day, but the day was not over yet. As we continued east the terrain got steeper and we were forced higher. At the start of a big descent, about 1500 feet David went ahead to scout the route while Dan and I decided that even though the sun was setting that we should hike as long as we could.
Fast forward two hours, we were standing on a ledge with an icy cliff above us, and a black abyss of unknown depth, impenetrable to our headlamps, below us. We couldn’t go back up, we couldn’t go down so we made camp. We tried throwing rocks and listening for the impact, we thought about lowering a light, hell I even whizzed off the ledge, but nothing gave us a clue as to how far up we were. I cant say the ledge wasn’t on our map because we didn’t have a map for this area, I know I know stupid. It was off our route and no one thought in a million years we would have to go that way. Let me paint a picture of our camp that night. A pretty good sized ledge, about 25 feet long and 10 feet wide. Not a bad place to camp right? Unfortunately all but a tiny patch of the ledge was far too steep to sleep on. There were three small trees on the ledge, two standing and one lying down. They provided our sleeping areas. Dan slept behind the standing tree, digging out a small hole, while David slept along the side of the fallen tree, both using the trees to stop them from rolling off the ledge in their sleep. Luckily I almost fit in the hole left by the roots of the fallen tree. I made it work. Since there was no room to set up the tent I slept wrapped in the footprint and Dan slept wrapped in the fly, while David slept wrapped in a tarp of some sort that he brought. As I reclined in my hole, my thoughts about the next day were interrupted by a strange sound above us. At first the sound was infrequent hollow pops, at their crescendo the pops were rapid and sounded like machinegun fire. Then came an impossibly loud and deep rumble, like a freight train roaring towards. Resonating in our chests, equal parts sound and sensation. Oh my god, rock sliding on rock. No one said anything. I held my breath wondering where the massive slab of rock would land, and if it would trigger more calving of the cliff face above. I breathed a breath of relief when I felt and heard the monstrous impact in the valley below. Sleep did not come easy that night. As the wind whipped my makeshift shelter around I lay awake looking for the stars and wondering about what was ahead of us and for the first time in my life I drifted off uncertain of tomorrow.
More to come!
RSS Feed