Kangaroo Temple

Kangaroo Temple, WA
7,572 feet
NW Face, 5.7+
July 22, 2006

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For our first alpine rock climb of the year, after a full year of skiing and wedding planning, we headed up to the NW Face of Kangaroo Temple. It was a peak I had climbed a couple years earlier with Andy, Andrew, and Murray and enjoyed it enough that it was worth a return trip. The hike up to Kangaroo Pass was BUGGY. We could see the welts growing on each other while we were hiking. After a couple hours and some very loose scree climbing, we made it to the base of the route. I'm still not entirely sure the best way to start this route. We started pretty far left, to the left of the horns shown in the Beckey guide and traversed all the way across, down the slab, then up the mostly unprotectable face to the first belay. I think the chimney/crack in the rock not quite so far left would make a better start, but I can't verify that.

That first traverse is pretty nervy, and kind of a rough way to warm up, but we made it across, then headed up 2nd pitch, the first 5.7+ layback, which is very nice! From the cave, we angled off to the left under a roof, then up a left-facing dihedral. This is very fun climbing, reminiscent of Deidre in Squamish. This leads to a tree belay. Here is where I made the same mistake I made last time, and decided to continue leading past this belay and up through the next 5.7+ layback. By doing so, we ended up turning the 5 pitches into 4, but the rope drag was horrible. Before each sequence of moves I had to pull up several feet of rope and then let is loose and hope it would pile up on the ledge below me just enough to allow me to move before yanking me back again. I'd recommend stopping at that tree and belaying. 

I made up for this mistake by correcting one mistake we made last time, and that was crossing the Dance Floor properly. Last time, we crossed it high, trying to get as much protection in the rock as possible. Problem is, we increased our chances of falling dramatically! So this time, I crossed the bottom of the floor, where it's ever so slightly lower-angled, but with less protection, yet it felt much safer and easier. Once across, it's just one attention-getting slab move up and your done. I took the rest of the lead all the way up to the end of the technical climbing, although if you had belayed the previous pitch from the proper spot, you would have to set up a belay just above the dance floor. That's what makes this climb sort of difficult to manage, because the belays just don't seem to work out right. In any case, it was much fun climbing this route again. It's great to have a route with such quality climbing only a couple hours from the highway -- close, but far enough away to keep away the crowds. 

Mt Adams SW Chutes

Mt Adams, WA
12,276 feet
SW Chutes
July 2, 2006

Our objective this 4th of July was Mt Adams, the second highest volcano in Washington. We wanted to climb it not just for the sake of getting to the top, but because we had an equally strong interest in skiing the Southwest Chutes, which offer about 4,000 feet of 30-40° fall-line skiing! After the long drive down on Saturday, Marcus, Anastasia, Kirsten and I found a spot off the road below the trailhead to camp because the main campground was still snowed in. We left camp around 5am on Sunday, because we planned to attempt to climb it all in one day.

As we approached the trailhead, we stopped and talked to some search and rescue folks who were standing by their response vehicle. They told us a woman had slipped and broke her leg high up on the mountain the night before and her and her boyfriend were hypothermic and dehydrated, but the first responders had got them into a tent and they were doing okay. We offered to take something up for the rescuers who were on their way up, so they gave us some cheese sticks and chocolate.

The climb was pretty uneventful. After a mile of hiking on dirt trail, we reached consistent snow cover so we stashed our hiking shoes and started skinning. We made it up to the Lunch Counter after four hours or so, and stopped for, well, lunch. We found the rescuers and delivered the cheese and chocolate, then continued up the steep slog up to the false summit, Pikers Peak, arriving around 11am. The legs were getting a little tired at this point, so we had to decide whether we wanted to continue up to the true summit, or begin our delicious ski descent. The pull of the summit was strong, however, so we risked letting the Chutes get a little over-cooked and headed over. We started off on foot and when we reached the slope up to the summit, we started postholing really bad, so we put the skis back on and with our more efficient skinning, made it up to the summit pretty quickly, arriving around 12:30. 

After splitting one Rainier tall-boy between the four of us, we gave the other one away because the altitude and exertion of the day made just a few ounces of beer extremely effective. Around 1:00 we started down. The skiing from the summit was much better than had been recently reported. People were saying it was icy, but we were lucky and got a pretty nice layer of corn. We traversed to the top of the SW Chutes and then began the long descent. The snow in the Chutes was a little too baked -- about an inch or two of somewhat heavy and sticky corn -- but once we got used to it and found the better patches, it was quite enjoyable. And the line! The line is so incredible. So steep and continuous and free of obstacles. I have never been half-way down a perfect slope and thought, "It's too far!" Legs quivering from all the tele turns, we leap-frogged down the slope, watching each other ski in turn as an excuse to rest.

We ran into some folks from the WAC, Mike, Doerte, and Christy, near the bottom and joined them for the traverse out. The 7,000' traverse was a little tricky, with the snow interupted by a series of rock ribs, but after an hour or so and an extra 500 feet of climbing, we made it back over to the South Route around 3:30. The rest of the trail was a combination of fun luge-tube skiing and dirt trail hiking, and before long we arrived back at camp and began the triumphant sausage grilling. 

Monday morning we drove into Hood River and had a tasty breakfast, then on the way home we stopped at Beacon Rock and sort of inadvertantly hiked up it in our flip-flops. We only meant to go up a little ways and check it out, but the trail was so cool that we kept going and before we knew it we were at the top. Not quite as significant of a summit as Adams, but still pretty cool.

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Mt Hood

Mt Hood, OR
11,249 feet
Hogsback (South) Route
June 18, 2006




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Mt Baker Ski

Mt Baker, WA
10,788 feet
Easton/Squak Ski
June 10, 2006

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by Marcus
Schreiber’s Meadow Trailhead; 6/10/2006; 3:30 a.m.
God damn, it’s early. I’m not cut out for this. Inevitably, these are my first thoughts of the day when I’m on one of these trips. It doesn’t really matter how often I do it, or what the destination is – I’m a second-rate underachiever before four o’clock in the morning. This time, I’m hoping my ear picks up the sound of rain on the sheet metal roof of my Chevrolet tent, but I’m disappointed.
“It’s time to get up!”
Ask my wife to get out of bed before 7:30 on any given workday and you’ll be lucky not to get kicked in the stomach. Ask her three hours earlier when there’s a chance she’ll get to ski that day and it’s like you’re sleeping next to a 7 year-old on Christmas morning. I exaggerate a bit, maybe – still, she’s already getting dressed while I’m still waiting for the van to start flooding. It’s in my best interest to get moving now, or she’ll start poking me in the eye to get me going.
Easing back the slider, I hear the muffled conversation from Big Top – Nate, Kirsten and Becky are awake. As usual, Kirsten and Becky are laughing in counterpoint. It makes me wonder if I’m the only second-rate in the group, but it also makes it a little easier to pull on my shoes and get out of the van. Nate hears the slider and gives a greeting. I’m the first one outside, so I offer the weather report – overcast skies, no wind, no rain, much like it was when we rolled in the night before and set up camp. The forecast for the day was not the best, but when you’re pushing into June and still skiing from the car, a 40% chance of showers doesn’t really dissuade, especially in the Cascades.
I had packed my bag the night before, leaving only a few things to wait until morning. Choking down breakfast is mandatory, no matter how much the body dislikes food that early in the day. I’m sure Nate and Becky would agree, however, that the body will eagerly accept espresso, milk and sugar from a can. Mine accepts two, happily.
As everybody gets situated and finishes their morning rituals, my mood begins to change. It usually takes longer than this, but it’s already quite light and the temperature is pleasant, so I’m warming up to the idea of climbing a big lump of rock for the next eight hours. I lash my skis to my backpack for the short stretch of bare road before the trailhead, taking up the rear with Nate as Anastasia, Becky and Kirsten chat about the coming day.
We stop briefly at the snow-covered trailhead and click into our skis for the rest of the day. Anastasia is quite taken with a woodpecker, banging fruitlessly on the metal chimney of the trailhead bathrooms. I’m not convinced we’ll be able to pull her away, but skiing wins out in the end. Had it been a penguin, she’d probably still be standing there.
As we climb into the wooded hills above Schreiber’s Meadow, my mind begins the familiar slip into neutral, allowing passing thoughts and scenic views to spin up the motor, but glossing over the slippery skinning and the occasional complaint from my body. It’s this that allows me to do these trips over and over, I think.
Around 7 a.m. we begin to see the forest thinning, though we seem to be climbing into the cloud layer that’s kept us so warm. But after a brief spray of rain we pop out, finally getting a view of the surrounding peaks, nestled in the cloud deck like rock candy in spun sugar. The snow covered slopes of the Metcalf Moraine rise above us, eventually giving way to the smooth, silky surface of the Easton and Squak Glaciers.
The snow is firm, with a soft coating on top. Just enough to let the skins bite and make the climbing easy. We spread out as we mount the glacier. Somewhere below this flawless white blanket the crevasses are looking up at us, but for now they’re choked with snow, making our passage easier. We take turns playing the rabbit, breaking trail up the glacier and giving the rest of the party someone to chase.
As the hours roll by the weather remains unpredictable. Periodic gusting winds and fast-moving clouds keep the Roman Wall at the Easton’s head shrouded in fog, while the cloud deck in the valley slowly rises. I stop every few minutes to look around – a convenient excuse to take a quick breather. The rabbit runs on, so I continue the chase like a good dog.
The snow begins to get thick and heavy – evidence of a low freezing level and a foot or more of new snow earlier in the week. Here, today, it’s 43 degrees at 8,000 feet, so what once might have been powder has become loose mashed potatoes. We climb on, but I’m beginning to wonder how much farther we’ll go. The summit looks socked in and the wind hasn’t died down – I don’t care much for white-out glacier skiing. It’s that second-rate thing coming back to bite me in the ass.
Finally, the rabbit hits a wall. After another 40 minutes of progressively more difficult trail-breaking, we ski up between the arms of a curving crevasse, perhaps 25 feet across. Two sagging snow bridges span the walls. You couldn’t pay me to ski across them without a rope, but nobody’s breaking out their wallet, so I think I’m safe. We discuss our options.
If the weather looked more promising we’d rope up and find our way around this crack easily. With a summit unlikely and only the skiing to look forward to, we decide we’ve reached our high point, our personal finish hold. The skins come off and we prepare for the first 1,000 feet of wet glop, hoping we haven’t missed all the good corn snow below.
Once we’re through deep stuff, the turns are great. I’m hard-pressed to complain about any skiing, really, and the company and atmosphere only add to the long, fall-line run back to the top of the Metcalf Moraine, where we take a lunch break in the sun. It’s 12:30. We still have 3,000 feet to go, so we get to it after politics, health care and tax law discussions have run their course. I talk most about these things when I’m in the mountains with these people, perhaps because it’s easier to face the realities of the world when you’re not staring it in the face from an office window.
Back at the car, the chairs come out and the skis dry in the sun, while we cool our throats with the first round of beers. This is what I’ve been thinking about since we started. No matter where we are or what we’re doing, within the first 30 minutes of one of these long days, someone will say “You know what I’m looking forward to? A beer and a sausage sandwich.” It’s like the icing on the cake.
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The Easton Glacier stretches out on Mt. Baker’s southern flank, rolling from the Roman Wall down past the crater and into the lowlands toward Baker Lake. It’s a popular, easy glacier climb that makes for a brilliant ski trip, especially in the spring when you can ski all the way back to the car. Doing it all in a day is even better, since the packs become wonderfully light