Eleven O'Clock Couloir

The three ingredients of hubris are turkey, stuffing and gravy... at least that's what I found out this Thanksgiving. I know most people want to sit around and do nothing after the gluttonous feast, and I did too. However, the next day I looked out the window at clear, blue bird skies and decided that obviously the forecast, calling for cloud cover with a chance of rain at high elevations, was dead wrong. And obviously now was a good time to haul a big pack of camping and climbing gear into the Three Sisters Wilderness and try to climb the mountain that has shut me down three out of three times in the last two winters. Well, at least I know I can still learn something.

I roped my friend Chris into coming, and I'm sure he was wondering what he'd got himself into as we skied/snow shoe'd out there in warm weather with clouds moving in. I had come to the conclusion, after three failed attempts, that to give yourself the best chance of doing anything on BT you needed to camp out the night before so that you can maximize the early morning temps in the south facing cirque. We reached a suitable camp site, just south of the cirque at around 7,300', an hour after sunset.

South Sister emerges from cloud above Green Lakes in the predawn. Taken from the top of the Eleven O'Clock couloir on Broken Top.

We crawled inside our tent and ate Thanksgiving leftovers (what else?)! I then realized that A: I had forgotten an extra pair of socks (not good when snow camping), and B: I had forgotten the cook pot and we could not use the stove and fuel that we had packed to melt more water (whoops). Well it's the first winter outing of the season for me so I guess a couple kinks are to be expected, and it gave me the chance to problem solve. For instance, I found that putting gloves over your toes keeps them very warm, especially when they are relatively new and well insulated. I also found out that if you pack snow into your partially filled dromedary bag, and cuddle it like a teddy bear, your body heat will do a great job of creating water. Although you have to snuggle up to a big, red, squishy ice bag, which is way worse than an already warm squishy bag. But I digress.

We awoke on and off through the night to various "piter-pater" sounds on our rain fly. It appeared that the precipitation varied between rain, sleet, and ice crystals. We awoke for the final time at 4am and ate a quick snack while pulling on our shell pants and boots, and went outside to a blessedly clear sky filled with stars. The temperature was warm and we made quick work of crossing the (now practically non-existent) Crook Glacier. During our approach the previous day we had seen slide debris in the High Noon gully, but could see that the Eleven O'Clock couloir was fully snow covered, so we made that our primary goal. We ditched the skis and snow shoes beneath a rock wall and broke out the climbing gear. We had hauled quite a bit of pro, not knowing what the conditions would be. "Oregon High" lists the route as 500ft of 50 degree snow with the chance for near vertical snow in the last 10ft as you approach the cornice. The more recent "Best Climbs Cascade Volcanoes" lists the less helpful and more ambiguous rating of grade II, class 4-5, AI2. In the end, 500ft of 50 degree snow was dead on. It got slightly steeper and less consolidated up top but the low snow pack at this point in the season meant no cornice.

The Eleven O'Clock couloir after we climbed it. I took this shot from a rock buttress near the entry to the High Noon gully.

Once out of the couloir, we started traversing toward the Northwest ridge which provides easy access to the summit. The terrain was a weird mix of exposed volcanic scree-mud and deep drifts of sugar snow. This was only Chris' second time climbing in winter mountains (he soloed Hood via the Old Chute the week prior), and he looked uncomfortable on this terrain. I stopped on a snow fin before what looked like a waist-deep wallow fest and waited for him to catch up. After discussing our options we traversed back to the couloir and down climbed. We never used the rope or any of the pro.

Chris traverses back to the top of the Eleven O'Clock couli with Peak 9094 in the background.

Chris prepares to descend the Eleven O'Clock couloir.

Chris downclimbing the upper section of the Eleven O'Clock couloir.

Chris downclimbing near the bottom of the Eleven O'Clock couli.

We scouted several potential routes on the way out but nothing looks to be in good condition yet. High Noon has lots of exposed rock up top, Nine O'Clock is thin snow, and harder potential lines are still iceless. The skiing was equally horid, no thanks to the wet precip. The snow was mostly 2-3" of hard crust on top of airy sugar. Down lower it was wet and soggy.

Peak 9094 on the western crater rim. Taken from the Elven O'Clock couloir. The obvious left trending snow ramp has had loose dry snow on it both times I have investigated. It is NNE facing and could be a good moderate ice line or a gnarly ski line depending on conditions.

Looking down on the Crook Glacier from the ridge climber's left of the Eleven O'Clock couloir.

Looking up the High Noon gully. In ideal conditions this route is supposed to climb the rock walls above on 60 degree snow and ice. Obviously we need a lot more snow.

We returned to the car by noon and I derived some satisfaction from passing spandex clad cross country skiers with my full pack and a rando setup. I was curious why my feet hurt so much on this trip and found out I had gotten blisters for the first time in almost four years; big matching bubbles on the inside of my heels. I guess a second set of socks might have helped. Although we didn't summit I was happy to have topped out the crater rim for the first time and gotten a closer look at other possible routes. Every time I go out there I learn something and one of these days (gosh darn it!) I will send a route that does justice to those steep craggy walls of rock and ice.

Looking back up into the Crook Cirque from our camp. The Eleven O'Clock couloir is just visible below and to the left of the cloud bank obscuring the main summit.

How to make 5.1 "fun," an attempt on Mt. Washington

Edward and I set out to climb the North Ridge on Mt. Washington Wednesday. The weather was supposed to be awful and it was. We went anyway because, in our own twisted minds, "we had nothing better to do." I was going to write an essay about it entitled "how to make 5.1 climbing fun" since I saw somewhere that that was the rating. The thesis was that if you pick a chossy, exposed route, and try to climb it in a white-out with 50mph winds, it would be more "fun." Unfortunately that white-out led to us ascending the wrong ridge and then being faced with a steep ice traverse in the 50mph winds. We hadn't really planned on climbing ice and only had one axe each, not to mention we couldn't really see anything. Thus we retreated and my thesis went untested.

As we descended our tracks had already filled in with snow and soon we were simply following a vague compass bearing. An hour and a half later we were in tangles of fir saplings and realized we must have crossed the PCT without realizing it. We started bushwhacking north and a couple hours later we entered an old burn. Soon after we stumbled upon the PCT. We thought we were really close to the car at this point but apparently we had been moving very slowly. The trail wound on forever and we started to suspect that we were caught in a time-space vortex: THE MOUNT WASHINGTON TRIANGLE (cue Twilight Zone theme music). Would we ever reach the end of the trail? I sure as heck didn't remember half of the trees we passed, but then again every tree looked exactly the same. We eventually hit the car and made jokes about projecting 5.1. We've almost got the beta down, now the only question is whether or not we wait for another blizzard.

This doesn't look bad at all. We are still on the PCT right?

Coming up the West Ridge which we still think is the North Ridge. My mountain sense is tingling!

The weather is getting more and more "funner" by the minute.

Brew stop. Stomp those feet.

It's a mountain mother clucker! Do you see it?!

Retreat! Reatreat! Oh that's what it looked like? I couldn't tell through my iced up goggles.

Solo Linkup: Smith Rock/The Marsupials

Wednesday I checked the forecast for Bachelor and Smith. I had planned to go skiing but conditions obviously favored rock climbing. With no partner I decided to drive out to Smith and solo some routes.

I'm not going to try to justify soloing or explain my motivation to do it. There is a huge body of literature on it. You can read about the out-of-body experience, the focus, the flow, the sense of freedom that people gain from it. People who don't climb a lot will never really understand. They either call you crazy, or stupid, or blabber about how amazing it is.

For the uninitiated I will offer some information for perspective: All climbs are rated. Some of those ratings (i.e. 3rd and 4th class) are defined as climbs where a rope is not necessary, or even appropriate. Fifth class climbs imply the use of a rope. Since ratings are a matter of opinion some 4th class climbs are harder/more dangerous than low 5th class climbs. Many alpine climbing guide books will explicitly tell you to solo some sections of 5th class climbing to save time and minimize other hazards such as changing weather. I don't mean to make a slippery slope argument. I'm merely pointing out that nothing is black and white. Using a rope has never been a given in climbing. How someone climbs a route is personal decision that is based on many factors. Obviously there is a big difference between Peter Croft free soloing Astroman in Yosemite and me soloing moderate routes at Smith. The line between safety and insanity is different for everyone.

When it comes to soloing I have a personal set of guidelines to follow. The route I climb must have solid rock (nothing too chossy), I must be familiar with the terrain (ideally I've climbed it before), and it must be rated much lower than the hardest grade I can currently on-sight. I also make sure I have certain items accessible. Besides wearing rock shoes and a helmet, I wear my harness and rack some gear on it. This always includes a set of stoppers, a couple quick draws and a couple alpine draws, an ATC, prusik slings, and a locking 'biner with a long sling. I also have my rope coiled in my pack, which I wear while climbing. With this kit I can secure myself to the rock in a range of situations, establish a self-belay, or rappel back down if necessary.

Racking up beneath Mini Half Dome.

The Koala is the yellow rock in the middle and the Wombat is the green spire behind it.

So, back to Wednesday afternoon. I left my car a little after 1pm and hiked out to the Marsupials (~2 miles). I got on the Marsupial ridge just above Mini Half Dome and climbed the West Face of Brogan Spire (5.5X, 3 pitches). I then down climbed the top two pitches of the South Buttress (5.5X) and rapped off to the base of Living Blindly. I then climbed living Blindly to the top of the Opossum (5.7, 3 pitches) and rapped off the anchors past the summit on the knife edge ridge. These rap anchors aren't really functional. Placed back from the edge of the wall, they force the rope to wrap over several sharp edges which makes it impossible to pull from below. After yanking on it for several minutes I soloed back up a ramp system (5.5ish). Tossed my rope off and down climbed.

Brogan Spire summit pic. Wombat is on the left.

On the Opossum. Looking down on Brogan Spire on the right.

Opossum madness!

I then walked across to the Koala and climbed Round River Direct (5.8, 3 pitches). This is an awesome climb and I was very happy to solo it. It was my first multi-pitch and my first Smith climb. At the time it felt hard and leading it sounded scary. To come back less than a year later and solo it felt like a huge accomplishment for me. I was super stoked.

Sitting on the top of the Koala, looking back down Round River Direct.

Koala top-out stoke!

 I climbed down the back of the Koala and started up Birds in a Rut (5.7, 5 pitches), which takes you to the top of the Wombat (the highest pinnacle in the Marsupials). After climbing off the back of the Wombat I scree surfed down to the Burma Road and started the hike back. I boulder hopped across the river to cut the corner and ended up climbing an unknown pitch of basalt cracks to get out of the gorge. A short walk down the road got me to my car.

The Sisters emerge from the clouds. Smith Rock Group in the foreground.

Smith Rock State Park from the top of the Wombat.

The Monument area from the top of the Wombat.

Wombat Cumbre!

Someone replaced the old rap sling on the Wombat. It didn't feel like much of a community service since they left the old sling and didn't replace it with a very long-term solution. Simple solution: don't rap, the down climb is short and easy.

Overall, in sub 5 hours: 4 summits tagged, 16 pitches climbed, 3 other pitches down climbed, 3 rappels, 4 miles of hiking, some other scrambly bits, 51 photos taken and some bathroom breaks due to enthusiastic hydration. Not bad for a Wednesday afternoon.

Bonus: Check out this video of famous American alpinist Steve House soloing hard ice climbs in New England. The precision and deliberateness that he demonstrates while climbing, and the personal approach to climbing and soloing that he espouses in the interview, changed how I approach climbing. http://vimeo.com/22993356

Broken Top: attempt 2/Crook Glacier

Sunday I got a late start and drove up towards Mt. Bachelor to give Broken Top another try. For my first try see my Ball Butte entry. I left my car in the Mt. Bachelor parking lot around 10:30 and made good time. I linked the XC ski trails to Flagline and followed the snow mobile access road from there. I hitched a ride with a friendly snow mobiler named Jerry, who dropped me at the base of Ball Butte and saved me well over a mile of flat skinning. From here I dropped down into the valley beneath Broken Top and headed up to the Crook Glacier cirque.

Approaching the Crook Glacier cirque on a really warm Sunday.

The forecast had called for a high of 28F but obviously the weather men at NOAA were wrong. Temps were very high, especially in the direct sun on the south side of the mountain. I made slow progress climbing up to the glacier in the heat, and lost a lot of water to sweat.

Obviously I'm picking the wrong days to play in the snow this winter.

I stopped under the last tree to take a drink and study the south face. As I watched, an avalanche rolled over a 300ft cliff and set off a very large slab avalanche on the slopes below. I didn't comprehend what I was seeing at first because there was no noise. A couple seconds later I heard the roar as the sound waves reverberated down the valley. Obviously 60+F temps on south facing slopes, with 18 inches of fresh snow on top of an old ice layer, make for unstable conditions. Needless to say I had no intention of climbing or skiing the south face of Broken Top after this.

First avalanche rolled off the cliff at the top and set off the slab below.

Not wanting to waste the 10+ miles of skinning I proceeded onto the glacier to scope out future climbing and skiing lines. The Crook Glacier is surrounded by three peaks that form a south facing U. There are many couloirs, cliff bands, and spires. Most of the rock looks very loose but some appears to be relatively solid for Oregon Cascades. I think in the right conditions this bowl could provide amazing skiing and ice climbing.

Amazing skiing and climbing? If only this were granite/frozen solid/stable pow.

As I headed up the glacier I saw a NE facing ramp on the west peak. It was covered in snow and ended in a steep couloir that appeared to top out. It was shaded and showed no signs of avalanche activity. After considering the risks I approached carefully and skinned up to the beginning of the ramp. Here it got too steep and narrow to skin effectively. I tucked in under a rock buttress and took off my skis with the intention of climbing up higher. The shaded ramp turned out to have loose, unconsolidated snow that was very deep. After floundering around in snow up to my chest I gave up, put my skis back on and enjoyed a short but steep run back to the glacier. Although I was loath to leave so soon there was little else I could do. I headed back and got to my car just after sunset.

The ramp I approached. Again, amazing potential here but lousy conditions.

Amazing rock strata near the base of the ramp.

Looking out of the bowl from my high point before dropping in. You can see my skin track leaving the shade below.

I now feel comfortable with the long route between the road and Broken Top. Next time I will try in colder weather even if that means low visibility. Hopefully that will provide better snow and ice conditions and I can actually do something interesting.

My tracks entering and leaving the bowl.

Winter at Smith Rock

After a super cold December and January the weather has gotten pretty warm and sunny here for the past few weeks. As a result I've been going out to Smith to go rock climbing a lot more than expected. This has been great for my climbing. I haven't been getting out skiing and alpine climbing as much as I would like, but who can say "no" to basking in desert sunshine mid-winter?

I've been climbing with a whole range of people, but my most consistent partner has been Caitlin, my girlfriend. She is also pretty stoked to climb right now, and has been improving by leaps and bounds. Together we have been checking off many of the highly recommended, moderate-difficulty trad routes at Smith. This has been great for my climbing to-do list (and that means great for my OCD, type-A self). It's also nice because I get to lead everything and forces me to adopt a "guide-mode" mind-set.

This past Saturday Caitlin and I went out with a large group of friends... Mike, Joe, Kristin, Dirk and Faith. It was a little windy but absolutely beautiful. We hiked over Asterisk Pass and climbed various cracks and bulges on Spiderman's Butt... ress. (A rock buttress! I wasn't being dirty at all!) Mike, using his new camera, made another awesome video (the man is a natural videographer! mad props!) so check it out...


Climbing at Smith Rock from Mike Arrera on Vimeo.

Routes we climbed that day:
Squashed Spider, 5.7 sport, 1 pitch
First Ascent Crack, 5.4 trad, 1 pitch
Out of Harm's Way, 5.8 mixed, 1 pitch (check mark! short dihedral to vertical face climbing, very fun!)
Spiderman, 5.7 trad, 2 pitches (check mark! slab, dihedral, splitter crack and overhang all in 200ft!)


Other great routes Caitlin and I have climbed in the past month:
Western Chimney, 5.5R trad, 1 pitch (strenuous and complicated for 5.5, don't go up it expecting a cruise)
Bookworm, 5.7 mixed, 2 pitches (off-width crack to a bolted slab)
Lion's Jaw, 5.8 trad, 1 pitch (awesome dihedral)
Moonshine Dihedral, 5.9 trad, 1 pitch (same as Lion's Jaw but steeper and longer)

Ball Butte... a typical day in the Oregon Backcountry

My buddy Mike and I set out early Saturday to try climb/ski Broken Top. This is one of the more picturesque peaks just outside of Bend with three craggy summits surrounding a small glacial cirque.


Mike approaching Broken Top in the predawn.

Sunrise on the approach, car dashboard said 7 degrees... mmm, mmm TOASTY!

Unfortunately it is an 11 mile round trip skin on flat ground to reach the base of this mountain. Of course in typical Oregon Cascades style the weather completely socked in the moment we got close and cleared out the moment we headed home. Mike's knee was flaring up from his new running regimen too, so we opted to go up Ball Butte instead which involves a 1,000 ft less vertical and a couple miles less of ski travel.


Mike on Ball Butte? Ball Butter? Buttery Ball?

On the way back I shredded some sweet gnar... radical overstatement dude! Overall it was a fun day but gosh darn did my feet hurt after that 5.5 mile skin out!

Mike being serious, or maybe understandbly grumpy, as we watch the clouds part.

As soon as we're a mile back towards the car the weather totally clears... WTF!? Ball Butte on the right.

Check out Mike's awesome video clip from the day... Mike, YOU are my hero! Ok that may have been too corny... whatever... watch the video!!!

Ball Butte Climb from Mike Arrera on Vimeo.

Kitchen Bouldering

When I first moved into my apartment I had a stress fracture and was really out of shape. It was winter and I was basically stuck inside most of the day. I was thinking a lot about climbing and wanted to do what I could while my fracture healed in a walking boot.

It started with finger tip pullups on the door jambs and evolved from there. I now have a route that starts at the fridge and traverses down the hallway to the bathroom. I climb laps on this whenever I can't make it to the gym or Smith or some other climbing area. Its been especially helpful with the cold weather and snow for keeping my forearms in shape.

I created this video to showcase how awesome this route is and how seriously I take training... which as you might guess is super-super-duper, hardcore, all-out serious! Enjoy and Happy Holidays...

Shasta Overdue

Mt. Shasta in Northern California has been on my todo list since middle school. My dad and I tried to plan a trip several times. Either I was freaked out about missing more than one day of training for cross-country season or my mom was freaked out because of the "crevasses" that were going to kill me.

Shasta from the North

At 14,179 ft Shasta is the 5th highest mountain in California, the second highest in the Cascade Range and the only significantly glaciated peak in California. It was the first objective on my todo list. It was on my todo list before the todo list even existed. It was almost inexcusable that I had not climbed it yet. 

Hotlum-Wintun Ridge

So after bagging Matterhorn Peak in the High Sierra, and spending Fourth of July at Lake Tahoe drinking beer and eating lots of food, I drove north to meet my buddy Mike at the base of this long awaited mountain. We had decided to climb the Hotlum-Wintun Ridge, an easy route on the remote east side of the peak to avoid the crowds of the south side. We were supposed to meet at the trail head parking lot and it ended up being a long drive in on dirt roads. We took two days and climbed at a pretty relaxed pace. It was fairly simple and I ended up picking a particularly steep line up the final headwall... just to try out this whole front-pointing, ice-axe swinging thing.

Sunrise on Hot-tun Ridge

Heading up to the summit

Back at the car we had some Ichthyosaur Pale Ale and then drove back home to Bend for burgers and more beer. Shasta was conquered, my only regret was that I hadn't skied down it, yet.

The First Chapter/A New Chapter

This is the first year that I have focused on mountaineering and its various children of related activities. I ran for 10 years at a some-what competitive level and, although I still run and race, I am really moving on to a new chapter. This chapter has to do with spending time in the mountains and generally making myself look really good when no one is around to see me (yes, that was a joke).

I'm bib 185 in this race. Photo by Keith Lemay.

As a kid I spent lots of time outside. As young as two I was going for hikes in the English country-side with my Dad. At the age of six I moved to Reno, Nevada at the base of the Sierras. By the time I was eight I was doing 10 mile hikes in summer and skiing in winter. At the age of 10 I climbed my first 13,000 ft peak and was comfortable on black diamond ski runs. In high school I got sucked into distance running. I got comfortable covering long distances quickly and being by myself in the hills. I managed to get out to the mountains a few times. A backcountry ski descent of Mt. Lassen in Northern California, hiking up California's Mt. Whitney, and backpacking in Nevada's Ruby Mountains all kept me interested in alpine sports. Ultimately running won out and these activities got put on hold.

In the Brooks Range, AK

It wasn't until after graduating from Western Washington University that I realized I wanted to spend more time in the mountains again. A summer in Alaska blew my mind open and made me realize what I was missing. An attempt on Mt. Baker with the outdoor program made me interested in climbing ice clad mountains. Right after graduating I went to Patagonia for 3 months. My intention was to skip North America's winter and run in the summer weather. I just ended up hiking and scrambling a lot in some of the most beautiful and iconic parts of Argentina and Chile. After a couple years living back in Reno I moved to Bend, Oregon with my girlfriend and decided to mountaineer and ski tour regularly.

Cerro Fitz Roy during my travels in Patagonia.

Goals started off fairly modestly... I wanted to climb every summit over 10,000 feet in the Cascades. I wasn't concerned with the route. I just wanted to spend time in the alpine, get comfortable on snow and glaciers, and enjoy a good view. Well, maybe I wanted to see how my running fitness translated to climbing and let out some competitive energy too. Ultimately I thought it would be fun to climb Mt. Sanford and Mt. Blackburn in the Wrangells of Alaska.

Sawtooth Ridge, Sierra Nevada, my favorite part of the range.

As I started doing more, and looking for people to go with, I got drawn into rock climbing. I started looking at more interesting technical routes on the mountains I wanted to climb. Now my peak bagging and hiking todo list has sections for technical rock and ice climbs. The mountains I am considering are much harder and the routes longer. It's going to be an exciting chapter regardless of what happens. I just know I want to go for it and see what happens. In the words of famous climber Alex Lowe, "the best climber in the world is the one that has the most fun." I want to be the best that I can be.

Leading Sky Ridge at Smith Rock, some random guy from Seattle snapped this and emailed it to Ian.