Stuck in the Snow

We finally started getting the winter everyone wanted here in Bend. It started by dumping beautiful dry powder in the mountains and I responded by heading up between work shifts and running several laps on the Tumalo bowl. I did seven laps, plus skiing to and from the car in roughly 4.5 hours. Which I think is pretty good. I remember hearing that 45 minutes is a good time for a lap on the Tumalo bowl, I was averaging around 27 minutes a lap and surprisingly didn't feel too tired afterwards.

Tumalo Bowl pow slayin'

Then the snow storms pushed down into Bend and things got a little crazy in town. The roads have been pretty terrible and I could force my way to the mountain but honestly I feel pretty unmotivated to bounce along in 4WD behind a bunch of other cars as we crawl up to the mountains. Instead I took advantage of the rare two plus feet in town and skinned from my apartment to Pilot Butte (a state park in town that involves a road and trail to the top of a 500 ft butte with nice views). I met another skier, Nick, en route and by the time we got to the summit it was obvious we weren't the only ones with this idea. It seemed like everyone with a back country setup had the same thought. I counted at least seven different groups skiing or boarding off the summit, several with GoPros... go figure. The ride was short and a little rocky but enjoyable, honestly it needs a proper base and a steeper slope with this much powder.

Pilot Butte summit

Skinning home after Pilot Butte

The next day I went to the Bend Rock Gym, which just opened a big expansion. I had tweaked my wrist earlier in the week trying to climb a surprisingly good thin hands and ratchets crack they have installed in the gym. It seemed like easy climbing didn't bug it though so I just started running auto-belay laps. I ended up climbing 1,540 ft, climbing up and back down 26 routes, in under two hours. I did most of it in two 45 minute blocks where I never got off the wall and simply traversed between auto-belays, tagging the ground and the top of the wall on each lap. I then started thinking how Honnold and Florine climbed 3,000 ft on the Nose in 2.5 hours with much of it run out simul/solo 5.10. That makes me really appreciate big wall speed climbing!

http://bendrockgym.com/

Anyway, in short I'm stuck at home between weather and other obligations for a couple weeks at least. I'm psyched for the opportunity to climb High Noon on Broken Top now that there will be less rock exposed. I also can't wait to get back on Hood and climb Reid Glacier Headwall and the North Face. But in the meantime, I'll be running, lifting, climbing and ski touring because I'm obviously still weak and pathetic.

The "Most Difficult" via The "Most Interesting"

It was a three day weekend so I felt compelled to attempt a big mission in the mountains. Unfortunately the snow conditions were terrible and it was way too warm for ice. Sounds like late spring right? So instead of trying a real winter climb that probably wouldn't go, I decided to try a late season mountaineering route instead. A la Jeff Park Glacier on Mt. Jefferson, AKA the "most interesting route" on Oregon's "most difficult summit." Jeff Park Glacier is a big, crevassed glacier on Jefferson's north side that flows from the ridge between two impressive rock pinnacles. The route follows the glacier to this ridge and then traverses a knife edge of low fifth class rock to the north ridge and the base of the summit pinnacle.

The Jeff Park Glacier, shadowed from evening alpenglow, as I hike up to my campsite Saturday evening.

I packed up the car and left Bend at noon on Saturday. The forest service road to the Whitewater Trail Head is mostly clear, thanks to the pitiful snow fall this winter. I was able to drive to within a mile of the trail head parking lot before my tires started spinning too much and I was forced to park. I left the car at 2pm, the road had good snow cover for skiing but the trail itself was mostly snow-less, forcing me to pack the skis. After the initial switch back section the snow reappeared and I was able to ski again. Once above Jeff Park (the hanging valley beneath the glacier) the snow became too icy for skins and I was forced to pack the skis again. I eventually made camp somewhere between 7000 and 7500 ft. in an icy depression. I fired up the stove and soon had plenty of water and a watery, warm bowl of curried rice and lentils. I crawled into my sleeping bag and turned the headlamp off at 8pm.

Sleep mostly evaded  me and I finally gave up and got up just after 3am. I melted 3 liters of water for the day and "cooked" some instant oatmeal with tepid water. After loading my pack and securing the tent with some big rocks, I started hiking at 4:30. There was a mostly full moon and I enjoyed hiking up the glacier without artificial light. Most of the crevasses were pretty well covered; I only punched through on one of them and it was obvious and small. The glacier has two bergschrunds, large crevasses caused by the glacier breaking away from snow pack above it. The first one was intimidating and took some time to get around in the dark, but I eventually located a good snow bridge. The second appeared more ominous, as there was tons of spindrift blasting over it, but in the end it was quite easy. I reached the top of the glacier at 6:15, 1:45 to climb ~2500 ft with some route finding issues. Not bad time, if I do say so myself.

The knife edge ridge traverse is called low fifth class rock climbing. I had read that there was a lot of exposure on it, and maybe it was scarier in the moonlight, but wow, big exposure is right. It was definitely an amazing perch; very narrow with several hundred feet of sheer drop on either side to steep snow slopes. The ridge crest also had a fair bit of snow and rime on it, so I ended up riding it horsey style quite a bit. This definitely made it the most awkward "rock" climbing I've done to date. The crux was a little tower on the ridge that was coated in rime ice. I climbed up just right of the crest and then had to down climb steep snow and rock on the back side. After the tower one more short horse ride led to the mellow north ridge. From there it was mostly walking, with only a short rime/rock down climb off a little nob, to reach the summit pinnacle.

Looking back on the knife edge ridge, leading to the snowier north ridge, from the summit. I didn't take any pictures before reaching the north ridge since it was dark.

By now the sun was peeking over the horizon and illuminating the east face. Being perhaps a little cocky I had thought that I would probably just reverse the whole route to descend, but I had no desire to hump my way back along the knife edge. The other descent option, which I hadn't really researched, was the East Face route. Now looking down the illuminated face I could see lots of very steep snow broken by cliff bands and getting warmed by the sun. This didn't look like a good idea either and given the extra time it would take to climb the summit pinnacle it would just get worse. I looked down the west side of the mountain at what I have since learned was the North Milk Creek Gully. This was still in the shade and I could see what appeared to be snow slopes, unbroken by rock bands, traversing around to the ridge above the Russel Glacier, a smaller, less steep ice field that parallels the Jeff Park Glacier. With this as my tentative descent plan I focused on the summit.

Sunrise paints the east face of Jefferson, and the Whitewater Glacier beneath it, pink.

The sun, just peeking over the horizon.

The north end of the summit pinnacle is a fourth class scramble in summer, now it was coated in thick, icy rime. Long lances of the stuff, upwards of three feet, had turned into solid ice blobs, probably as a function of the warm weather, and were sticking out of the snow at a downwards angle. Trying to find solid pick placements and move through them with a pack on was a slow process. There was only so much I was willing to bash off above me since the chunks were so large. I started by climbing a short chute to a hanging snow/ice field. From here I tried three different chutes leading up to the summit. I down climbed from part way up all three, feeling that they were too insecure and dangerous. I thought that maybe conditions just weren't good and that I would be denied after coming to within 30 vertical feet of the summit. However, I investigated one last gully, hidden around a corner to the far right. It looked doable, with some protruding rock holds, so I started up. I was able to traverse further right to the ridge crest and one final body length of rime climbing got me to the tiny summit (barely big enough for one person to sleep on). I took some photos, ate, drank, and admonished myself to descend carefully ("no mistakes, take your time"). The down climbing went smoothly and I was daggering backwards down the North Milk Creek Gully by 8:20.

My boot prints on the summit with the north ridge on the left and Mt. Hood on the horizon.

A close up of Mt. Hood, with Adams just visible to the right.

Looking past the South Horn from the summit (North Horn). Visible L-R are Black Butte, Broken Top, the Sisters, Mt. Washington, and Three Fingered Jack.

The shadow of Mt. Jefferson shades the knife edge ridge and the horizon, taken from the summit.

The "mandatory" summit selfie with Mt. Hood visible to the right.

The snow traverse over to the top of the Russel Glacier ended up being pretty continuous traversing on 40-45 degree snow. I crossed multiple gullies but only saw one ice chunk falling down. The last gully I climbed up instead of over to avoid steeper snow. This brought me to the ridge crest above the Russel, and to my relief I could see easy, walkable snow slopes all the way down. I may have even shouted with glee, knowing with certainty that the difficult parts were over and it was all clear sailing back to camp.

Looking back up at the summit pinnacle (right), the Mohler Tooth (left), and the gullies I had traversed, from the top of the ridge above the Russel Glacier.

Sunshine! I could not have imagined better weather. The summit pinnacle is on the left.

Looking down the ridge line with the Russel Glacier on the right... easy walking at last!

I reached camp around 10am, just in time to see two other climbers descending from the Jeff Park Glacier, the first people I had seen since turning my car off the main road the day before. We stopped and chatted for a bit and I found out they were from Portland and had been camped just over the moiraine from me but we had never seen each other. They had also tried the Jeff Park Glacier route but turned around part way up the glacier due to crampon malfunctions. After they started hiking down I crawled into my sleeping bag and ate a snack. I briefly considered taking a nap but decided I'd rather get out of the cold shade of the mountain and down to that nice sunny weather I could see. I packed up and skied out without incident, returning to the car by 1:30. I stretched and ate a fresh apple on a sunny rock before driving home.

Looking back at the Jeff Park Glacier from camp.

Amazing, rolling cloud formations above the Russel Glacier as I break camp.

Looking back at the mountain as it socks in with clouds during my ski out to the car... perfect timing.

Although this route was technically a couple notches easier than my Devil's Kitchen Headwall solo it was, in my opinion, a much harder climb. The constant accumulation of small, technical obstacles with big exposure, combined with the route finding issues and the uncertainty of whether or not it would go, made it a huge mental challenge. It also required a lot of my accumulated skill and experience to successfully navigate all the different parts of the climb. While the knife edge was definitely the technical crux, and the scariest section, the summit pinnacle provided the biggest challenge with its route finding. The most enjoyable part of the climb however, was the traverse over to the top of the Russel Glacier. Pushing an unknown descent path down an unknown (to me) part of the mountain was stressful but also very rewarding and I really enjoyed the sense of exploration. Finally, I'd like to thank some people, because a good solo effort is (ironically) only possible with the support of your partners... Edward, for taking me on those early mind expanding climbs and showing me what you can achieve with a level head. Travis, for being psyched to go climb in the alpine and first suggesting that Jeff Park might be soloable in winter. Lastly, Caitlin, for accepting, supporting, and trusting me not to do anything stupid. Thank you!

Devil's Kitchen Headwall Solo

Caitlin and I got back to Bend Friday night after visiting family for the holidays. The weather was looking good and I was craving something challenging after mainly sitting around eating food for almost two weeks. So the next day I repacked the car and drove to Mt. Hood. My intention was to solo the Devil's Kitchen Headwall. This is a relatively short and easy route on Hood's south side, very near the standard walk-up gullies used to reach the summit by peak baggers. Its easy access and short, straightforward technical difficulties made it an ideal target. The only question was whether or not there would be enough ice to climb it with the abysmally low snow fall we have had this winter.

I got to Timberline around 5PM (I had yet to replace a burned out headlamp and wanted to drive while it was still light), walked around the lodge, found a quiet dark parking space, ate a dinner of leftover potatoes and chilli, and settled into my sleeping bag in the back of the car. I set my alarm for 3AM but apparently I was a little too comfy and awoke at 5:30! I threw on my clothes, jumped out of the car, laced my boots and grabbed my pack. I was hiking by 5:45, and hiking fast due to my frustration. I even forgot to put on my headlamp and went half a mile in the dark before letting myself stop to get it out.

The wind was blowing fairly hard and carrying bits of ice shrapnel with it, but once I drew level with the Steel Cliffs it cut out. By this time the sun was peeking over the horizon and bathing the east facing slopes in a red glow. I could see the Headwall by now and it looked like ice would be sparse. I berated myself for sleeping in... perhaps with more time I could have dropped down to investigate Reid Glacier Headwall or another line. With limited options I hiked around the Devil's Kitchen, exposed geothermal vents reeking of sulfur, to the base of the Headwall and evaluated the various gullies.

Route overlay of south side routes on Mt. Hood from the Oregon High climbing guide by Jeff Thomas. 1b- Old Chute, unlabeled line- Pearly Gates, 1c- Devil's Kitchen Headwall left variation (my route right of the gendarme in red added by me), 1d- DKH right variation, 1e and 1f- shorter routes to the crater rim and the upper Wy'east route.

My ideal line up these cliffs is called the "left variation" on the Mountain Project page and is marked as route "1c" on the topo in Jeff Thomas' "Oregon High" guide book. This gully is the longest and most direct on the headwall. The lesser "right variation," or route "1d," seemed to have enough snow and ice in it for climbing but wasn't what I wanted. Unfortunately the left variation looked very sparse and at first glance I thought it would be impossible. I climbed to the bottom of the first step to investigate anyway and once I was close I could see some snice chunks on the right side and a thin smear of verglas on the left. I checked the right and found it was poorly bonded and I couldn't get a solid pick. The footing on the left looked easier despite the thin ice so I moved over to check. I climbed and down climbed the first couple moves twice, considered retreating, and then committed to the mandatory mixed moves. Maybe I have been reading too much Colin Haley and Steve House or maybe I was just too amped up to back down, but either way, once up it would have been very difficult to reverse and the ice for a v-thread was non-existent. In short I was now committed to continuing.

Looking up the first step. The left side looks totally bare but actually had enough verglas for a pick. The right side was worthless snice.

Looking back down the first step, now committed. I came up the lookers right. Sorry for the poor quality photos, I was not in a secure enough position to get out the camera while on route so I used the cell phone in my jacket pocket.

As I climbed up the ice stayed very thin with plenty of exposed rock. More than once I swung my pick into black ice, only to have it punch through and release a plume of volcanic dust into my nostrils. Luckily there always seemed to be a fairly solid rock block where I needed it, although not that solid... lets just say that you know it's chossy when you can use a sloper for a foothold in your crampons! Below the second step I glanced down and realized just how bad a fall would be. I watched a couple I had passed earlier, now black specks resting on the Hogsback. I briefly contemplated how quickly they could reach my body if I fell. Would I survive a fall like that? Would my body stop on the snow slopes below or would it tumble into a steaming vent? I quickly forced the thoughts away. Then I thought about Caitlin... she had suggested we go to a movie if I was back early enough. Could I make it in time? Would I make it at all? Those thoughts didn't help either and I forced them away too. I looked at the next section and thought about the moves. There was only one way to reach my future and that was to climb up and out. "Fuck the movie," I muttered. "Who wants to sit on a couch when you could be here?" And by "here" I meant living in the moment, in oneness with this ribbon of rock and ice.

Looking up the second or third step and sheltering beneath the ice blobs from the ice falling down the gully.

Looking back down the gully from beneath the gendarme, finally some good neve. You can see a party of two on the Hogsback snow ridge in the shade.

At some point the neve between steps became thicker and more comfortable, which was good because ice chunks were starting to come down the route in random bursts. I reached the point beneath the gendarme on the ridge where you can go right or left. Left looked easier, right looked more direct with one last step. I climbed up and right and rested beneath the step at good stance in the snow. Then pulled some final mixed moves with one tool dangling from its leash so I could grab exposed rocks. I climbed solid neve above the step to a notch, enjoying the easy movement where every placement felt good. Then I rounded the gendarme onto sunny east facing slopes and realized that it wasn't over. The snow here was sugary powder with breakable crust. I could feel rock underneath and it was steep with a big drop beneath. I contemplated down climbing and trying the left variation but realized it was probably safer to traverse 20 feet on this than spend more time trying to find an alternative. I very carefully moved down and around a rock bulge, my feet supported on snow that I didn't trust, my tools scraping on rock I also didn't trust. I climbed up to the ridge line as quickly as I could and, finally on safe ground, trudged up to the summit.

Looking up the last step.

Finally able to release both tools comfortably at a rest stance beneath the last step. Don't bring your fancy tools if you're going to scrape them up on this choss... oh wait I don't have fancy tools. Any reps out there want to just give me a pair? I'll like them so much after these old things that I'll rave about them to everyone, guaranteed!

There was one other person up there (I forget his name... think he said he was from near Oregon City?). Several parties were visible on their way up or down. I hung out for a while, ate some food and took pictures before down climbing the Pearly Gates chute which had a short little ice step in it, quite solid and easy by comparison (4th class ice?). I hiked down fast and made it back to the car before 11AM (under 5:15 car-to-car). I even made it back to Bend and showered in time for the 2PM movie with Caitlin.

L-R Mt. St. Helens, Rainier, Adams from the summit of Hood... it was a beautiful day to be outside.

Looking west along the summit ridge from the highest point.

In retrospect, I think that the experience may feel bigger in my mind than it was in reality. After all, it's just a dinky little AI3 route. The ice was thin, sure, but it's relatively low angle and was mainly an exercise in having really solid footwork. That said I can see how this would be an easier and more enjoyable route if the ice was in thick enough to take screws, and I don't really intend to get on it again unless that's the case. When the "uninitiated" ask me about soloing, usually with the assumption that it's suicide, I often tell them that I think driving to a climbing area is more dangerous than the soloing I do there. I honestly believe this, but after the drive home under sunny blue skies I feel like this may be the first solo where I could argue that climbing was the more dangerous activity. Regardless, I definitely don't regret it.

Mandatory selfie on the summit. Adams is just right of my head.

Looking down the North Face... maybe a future solo?

Wonderful Friends and Wonderful Weekends

Weather throughout the Inland West, especially in Central Oregon, has been very cold lately. There were probably close to two weeks in town where it never got above freezing and lows were below zero for several nights. This excited me because accessible ice climbing is rare here. However, the down side is that our pipes froze. Eleven days later I am sitting in a hotel, paid for by my landlord, because we still don't have running water. Bummer!

Well, I decided I'd moved to Bend to enjoy life and I wasn't going to let a little inconvenience stop me. So that first weekend Chris and I headed out to Paulina Falls for some water ice top roping. I've climbed lots of snow, neve and rime ice, but very little true water ice so this was a good session. We each did nine laps on various parts of the right flow... and we found a frozen kokanee (not the beer). It was a damn good time and we definitely got our money's worth.

Pictures by Chris Sepic:

Myself on the L side of R falls.

Kokanee!?!? Found frozen solid in the snow... WTF?

Me eating the fishy... I was hungry because it's hard to cook without running water.

The next weekend we were still without water and were supposed to have up to six of my old teammates crashing on our floor for Club Cross Country National Championships. Luckily, by the time everyone arrived my landlord had booked us two adjoining hotel rooms with a kitchen!!! (We only asked for one but I'll take that!) We had an awesome time and it was good to see so many friends in town. Club Nats is quite the race as it attracts professional running clubs and amateur clubs alike. The Open Men's 10km had 410 finishers which is huge for this type of race. It was really fun to watch, a great spectator course. I got to cheer on my friends and former Olympians alike. The course was also hilly and windy with some slick and rough footing... so much fun! I was kicking myself a little for not being in better running shape and competing, but you have to pick your battles and I'm not regretting those weekends at Trout Creek.

On the course I took some video...

Women's Open (4.5 min):

 Men's Open (9 min):

Now all my running friends have left :(
... let's hope our pipes unfreeze soon so we can at least move back home!

One running friend did not come for Club Nats because he is off gnar-bossing trail races. It's okay though because hopefully I will see him for some gnar shredding this winter... Ryan Ghelfi is now officially on the new Nike Trail Running team! And you can check out his great blog's most recent post, an annual recap, here.

In the meantime I'm going to catch up on sleep and try figure out this whole living situation thing... hopefully I'll live in a house that meets legal rental standards soon! Then I can crush it knowing I have a hot shower to come home to. That would be nice.

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.

Trout - take 2

After finally going to Trout Creek for the first time I was hooked. It wasn't hard to talk Chris into going again the next weekend so off we went. This second trip was substantially different from the first. The weather was better: no wind and no rain. The crag was way more crowded; instead of two other people there were at least 20. We also tried much harder routes which made it less productive but more mind opening and body wrecking. Of course, overnight trips to Trout are fast establishing a tradition of deluxe meals and we stepped it up in this department too. Although breakfast especially may have been a little overboard.

People say Trout Creek is gear intensive... I guess that depends on your definition.

Climbing Summary for Saturday: Since the right side of the main wall was somewhat crowded we headed left to unexplored (for us) cliff line. After a 5.9+ warmup Chris led U4 (5.11-) for his first onsight and redpoint of the grade at Trout. I followed and almost got the "TRedpoint" but botched a jam near the top. I then led Wonder Twins to get my first onsight/redpoint of a 5.10 at Trout. Chris followed that and then decided to try California Weakender (5.11-). After spending a while trying to figure out the first moves in the fading light we packed up and hiked back to camp.

U4 (5.11-) stems and laybacks the very wide double crack in the middle of the picture

Dinner: We devoured salmon creme sauce over pasta and then bummed a hand-warming fire off a friendly and interesting couple from Montana who we had climbed next to during the day.

Breakfast: We woke up in better time this weekend and fried a bunch of bacon from our friendly local butcher (Primal Cuts). We made the good or bad decision (depending on your perspective) of not pouring out any of the inch deep liquid fat in the fry pan before throwing in a whole onion, bell pepper, many mushrooms, six eggs, a bunch of garlic and half a pound of cheese. This bacon grease infused scramble that could barely achieve a non-liquid state was then loaded on top of sliced baguettes from our favorite bakery (Baked). We each had a full baguette to ourselves and could not finish, but instead wrapped the remaining sandos in foil and left them on the dash for the satiation of post crushing munchies.

Bacon grease scramble!

Chris chows down on the first half of his breakfast sando with adequate lap protection.

Climbing Sunday: We warmed up on Plumbline (5.9) and Chris then returned to Weakender and was able to pull the thin bouldery moves off the starting pillar but was too pumped/puzzled by the complicated jam/laybacking and hung a few times before the top. I TRed and hung much also. Enthusiastic dirtbags down the cliff had just put up a 5.12- onsight  (Medicine Man) and we switched TRs with them. Neither Chris nor I could pass the first 10 feet of the layback/stem/tips-jamming tenuous-ness that was the bouldery start. Chris also felt his shoulder pop on Medicine Man from all the strenuous laybacking and called it a day. I bummed a TR on Fingerlings (5.11-) and got completely worked. By the top my fingers hurt so badly from sharp finger-lock jams that I couldn't do them anymore and was using tenuous thin hands instead of the perfect fingers. I was then talked into trying another 12- (Out of the Question) on top rope. After trying the first crux section multiple times and realizing I was way too tired I  moved over to the Question Air Box (5.10+) and climbed that past the 12- crux before swinging back over to finish the route. Completely destroyed, we hiked back to the car where we ate delicious congealed bacon fat and drove home.

Mt. Jefferson and the Deschutes River at sunset from up by the crag.

Trout Creek... take 1

I went to Trout Creek for the first time this past weekend. I had been meaning to go for a while but I would either be distracted by the closer climbs at Smith Rock or I would heed the call of the mountains. Although, to be honest, I was also a little intimidated. I had heard rumors of stout grades and pumpy splitters. I have always struggled on the basalt columns of Smith's Lower Gorge and I imagined Trout to be similar but harder. My preconceptions were, of course, blown out of the water. The columns are huge, the stone gritty, and the climbing has a physical nature totally different from anything I've climbed at Smith.

The crag on the hill from the campsite by the Deschutes.

Chris and I drove out there Saturday morning. We planned to camp Saturday night and climb Sunday too. Chris had been out to Trout a few times but is by no means a veteran. We combined our racks and borrowed a friends too. Climbers at Trout are supposedly pretty friendly about sharing gear, but with the forecast calling for a chance of rain we weren't sure who else would show. As it turned out we got to the base of the Main Wall around noon and were the only ones there.

Purdy view and blue skies... although it was windy.

After scoping around a bit and consulting the guide book in the "community bucket" I racked up to try lead Gold Rush (5.10-). This is a splitter hand crack, named for all of the yellow #2 Camalots it takes. I figured I should be able to get up this clean at least, but less than halfway up I was hanging on gear. I did all the moves fine but found it too pumpy and hung a couple times before the chains. I was somewhat concerned about the rest of the weekend since Gold Rush is one of the easiest climbs on the Main Wall.

Cracks! Goldrush is dead center with the dark pod at the bottom.

Next I belayed Chris on Landing a Monster (5.10). This is a variation to Monster (5.12-) which climbs a double crack next to it before traversing into the upper part of Monster above the crux. He sent that clean and I then top roped it with more hanging on the rope. Still hopeful, I decided to try lead JR Token (5.10). I actually got up the first two thirds (more splitter hands) before getting totally destroyed on the thin hands crux. After a couple whippers I sewed it up and pulled to the anchors. Next Chris got on Suzuki (5.10+) a double crack stem box. He struggled to get up it, using mostly the right crack. I then tried it on top rope and still hung but made it to the top using the double cracks well. For the first time I felt like I had climbed well.

Looking down the Main Wall... JR Token starts from the higher mini pillar on the right.

We got back to the car after dark and made noodles topped with chilli and cheese. We downed a couple IPAs and, after staring at the stars for a while, went to bed. We slept long, got up late, and made our second awesome meal of trip: breakfast burritos. Caitlin is not a big fan of breakfast the meal, eggs, breakfast burritos, raw onions, and all things spicy, but she wasn't there. We cooked what should have fed 10 people... a bag of cubed potatoes, a pile of delicious sausage links from the Primal Cuts butcher in Bend, six eggs, tons of garlic, a whole onion, the rest of the cheese from the night before, some spinach, wrapped it all in giant tortillas from the Mexican bakery and topped it with Habanero hot sauce. Each of us ate two huge burritos and then we made two more to save for later. We sat around for an hour, utilized the out-house gloriously, and hiked up to the wall. It was after noon.

Looking down the Main Wall on day 2.

I started off the day by racking up to lead U3 (5.9+). Another double crack that delivers a big right calf pump. I worked my way up it, found some rests, and finally got a clean send. Chris then tried Suzuki again. He used the double cracks a bit better and was able to get that clean as well. I TRed it clean afterwards, we were stoked. There was another double crack/chimney left of Suzuki and it looked easy to me. Convinced it couldn't be harder than U3, I jumped on it. I thought it was awkward but was certain it was no harder than 5.9. Later we found out it was rated a 5.10- but whatever it's rated I was starting to realize that I was much stronger on double cracks and stemming problems than on straight-in splitters. Either way my confidence was boosted and after Chris sent Mr. Squiggles ( a wiggly 5.10 splitter) I top roped that clean too.

Route finding between route climbing... navigating the boulder maze.

Sunset as we pack up.

We were out of time and day light, but we were both convinced that our "Send Burritos" had helped us have a great second day. We drove home and stopped at the new Base Camp Pizza in Terrebonne. It was pretty good, although I think we would have raved about anything edible at that point.

I shaved the back of my hands pre-trip so I could remove tape gloves easily but the gobis still hurt... drinking numbs the pain.

Overall: Besides a quick bit of rain Saturday, the weather was really perfect, cold but ideal for climbing. We saw two other climbers Saturday and no one on Sunday. It was amazing having such an awesome crag to ourselves and we joked about the poor people lining up at Indian Creek in Utah.