tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66205468457819996982024-02-19T22:07:00.952-08:00Alan Kearney Photography & ArtAlan Kearneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09797537795662546024noreply@blogger.comBlogger11125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620546845781999698.post-62175560172019662082014-03-05T10:19:00.000-08:002014-03-10T13:01:38.391-07:00<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">LOCAL ICE:</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Photographing Cascade Glaciers before they disappear.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-size: large;">Heating Up</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-size: large;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A sensible</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">person with their eyes open can see that the climate and environment of our planet is changing: increasing temperature, more frequent and violent weather, melting ice and rising sea levels are taking place. Even if it is just another one of nature's cyclic spasms and we are not accelerating it, wouldn't we want, as humans, to lessen the effects of our activities on the earth, in order to preserve our habitat? The simple fact is that civilization has adapted to the planet and thrived based upon a state where: sea levels exist at their present level with many people living in places within a few feet of them, moderate temperatures (relatively speaking), and adequate resources (with a constant threat to destroying wild places to obtain more materials) </span></div>
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In a sense our beautiful earth is being treated like a supermarket, where we stroll the aisles with the Costco mentality of stuffing our cart with a heap of cheap items, to sustain our comfy standard of living. However in the upcoming years items like living space, arable land, clean air and water, will not be available at wholesale, for they are not being mass produced. </div>
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And I am by no means a saint, since I'm writing this on a computer probably manufactured in China. While on that subject, where are the resources coming from to fuel their energy behemoth? In part from us. Coal!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBufUYEpaBdkdr0p1Y1V9e-zDgUe4RLfrRORH2Qh5tEgJ3fm2Yci61htGlA6rtR1UuzerZds2zsxM9nKDvtMKRJylqEm3ZWZiSbQek4TaQrcCbEZVa1YIH2crTY2OsBTqctLfgiGuYD7c/s1600/Coal+Train_WY.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBufUYEpaBdkdr0p1Y1V9e-zDgUe4RLfrRORH2Qh5tEgJ3fm2Yci61htGlA6rtR1UuzerZds2zsxM9nKDvtMKRJylqEm3ZWZiSbQek4TaQrcCbEZVa1YIH2crTY2OsBTqctLfgiGuYD7c/s400/Coal+Train_WY.jpg" height="400" width="285" /></a></div>
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The British scientist James Lovelock has some dire predictions for the fate of the human race based upon massive alterations on the planet that he believes will occur. He is by no means a dummy having invented the first aerosol disinfectant, developed a means to freeze and thaw animal sperm, and invented the Electron Capture Device that was used to measure the hole in the ozone layer caused by chlorofluorocarbons. He is not basing his predictions on computer models, but on what is actually happening. </div>
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Satellite measurements indicate that ice is melting so fast that the Arctic Region could be ice-free by 2030. The United Nations panel on climate change predicts that the Earth's average temperature will rise by 11.5 degrees by the year 2100, and that sea levels will rise 23 inches. But the geologic record shows that when temperatures increased by 5 degrees 3 million years ago, the seas rose 80 feet! Lovelock claims that computer modelers just do not know enough about the dynamics of melting ice sheets.</div>
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Also Lovelock points out that cloud physics, deforestation, and the melting tundra all contribute to climate change. And the Carbon Dioxide in the atmosphere is increasing. The 7 billion people on the planet, plus livestock and pets, contribute 25 % of the total CO2, and the other 75%?? From a plethora of machines small and big spewing forth waste gases. </div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange; font-size: large;"><i>The arteries of oil blanket the earth.</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange; font-size: large;"><i>Pumping black energy to the thirsty masses.</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange; font-size: large;"><i>Sever the steel lifelines, and we will all have to walk.</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange;"> </span>How many noisy objects do we need?</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i> Of metal, glass, plastic and rubber?</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i> Suffocating the land and dominating our life.</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Millions of moving things, </span></i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">so many loud metallic shiny things.</span></i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">They run and cough and smoke, </span></i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">and sometimes even die and choke.</span></i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Busily streaming along where once grew plants,</span></i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">like so many relentless soldier ants.</span></i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Eating up fuel, air and space,</span></i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">What has happened to the human race?</span></i></span></div>
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He refers to the Earth as a superorganism and has given it the name "Gaia" after the Greek goddess of the Earth. According to his theory life is not just a traveler in a conveyance, but an active participant with the ability to alter the conditions that sustain it. "If we as people do not respect and take care of the Earth, we can be sure that the Earth...will take care of us and, if necessary, eliminate us."</div>
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Lovelock foretells that by 2020 there will be droughts and extreme weather, by 2030 the Arctic Ice will have disappeared, by 2040 the Sahara will move to Europe (with Berlin as hot as Baghdad), and by 2100 the planet's population of 7 billion (perhaps a lot more) will be reduced to 500 million. The survivors will be living in the northern latitudes of Canada, Iceland, Scandinavia, and the Arctic Basin. And anyone still around by then won't have to worry about their cable bill anymore. Food, potable water, and shelter, will be infinitely more useful than a smart phone.</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange; font-size: large;">Cascade Glaciers</span></div>
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It is not my place to make a definitive statement about our glaciers, but simply offer up these recent photographs of the change occurring. I live only 40 miles away from the most extensive collection (although none very big) of glaciers in the lower 48 states. It is a fantastic opportunity to observe these unique landforms closeup, something I have been doing since 1972. Besides their obvious beauty, they are a major source of freshwater for people around the world throughout the year. Long after the seasonal snows have disappeared in late summer, glacier ice continues to melt supplying streams and rivers. That same freshwater is good for salmon and other species as well.</div>
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A glacier is a permanent snowfield that has acquired enough mass and gradient to begin moving. Old snow recrystallizes and metamorphoses into ice. The tremendous pressure of the ice pressing down on bedrock causes melting, water acts as a lubricant and enables the ice to move by basal sliding. The accumulation zone is high on the glacier where snow does not melt away entirely in the summer heat. Snow compacts and eventually becomes ice. These upper zones also receive snowfall in the summer, since even in the Cascades it sometimes snows during June, July and August. Summer snows add little to accumulation, but the fresh white bright layer of new snow slows melting due to the albedo effect, or reflectivity of surfaces. Of course when there is virtually no summer snowfall, and temperatures are hotter more melting occurs. The video below shows meltwater streams going strong on the Easton Glacier in early October of 2012.</div>
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The ablation zone is the the lower zone on the glacier where the years snow's is melting away; and in (September) one can sometimes observe the zone of demarcation between accumulation and ablation. This is called the firn line. Firn is a German word meaning old snow that has survived one or more seasons, and is in a state of transition to glacier ice.</div>
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When accumulation exceeds ablation the glacier advances. An advancing glacier is characterized by a bulbous snout of cleaner ice, and may even bulldoze down brush or small trees that grew up during a previous stagnant period. A retreating glacier has a dirty tapered snout of ice, and piles and ridges of morainal debris nearby, (lots of examples in our Cascades). </div>
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As the river of ice moves down the mountain the brittle ice (upper 100 feet) cracks in response to the topography of the bedrock underneath, and differences in rate of flow. Beneath 100 feet the ice is more plastic (like Silly Putty) due to the great pressure from the weight above. Icefalls are those dramatic areas of the glacier where ice is moving rapidly over a steeper section or cliff of bedrock. It cracks and shatters on every side, forming spectacular towers of ice; seracs.</div>
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I didn't set out to document glaciers, but mainly to climb up or cross those icy fields to reach many of our craggy summits. From 1973 to 2007 I always carried a good SLR camera; first an Olympus and then a Nikon loaded with Kodachrome early on, followed by Fujichrome later. Since 2008 I have been using a digital Nikon with minimal lenses in the backcountry to save weight. </div>
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During those mountain adventures I captured many beautiful scenes, including glaciers from different perspectives. Seven years ago I began to pull out some of my photographs of glaciers from the early 1980's, and realized that I ought to return to the same locations and reshoot those glaciers. Taking with me an 8 x 10 color print of the original photo, I would day hike, traverse several days, or climb to the summits where the originals were taken. I have the uncanny ability to remember exactly what camera lens I was using, even 30 years ago, so then it was just a matter of getting to the same location late in the season (when the seasonal snow had melted away), and shooting from close to the same time of day, to produce similar lighting.</div>
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The best perspectives were those that illustrated the difference in the surface area of the glacier, and were photos taken from oblique angles (sometimes even summits). Photographs that show the glacier in profile or straight on, show the loss in thickness of ice better. I have also included photos of getting to the locations, since that is such a big part of this story.</div>
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Now for my photographic comparisons: the originals were photographed between 1981 and 1987, and the comparisons shot between 2005 and 2012. Although I have a collection of about a dozen comparisons at this point, six North Cascade Glaciers are represented here. They are the Coleman, Roosevelt, and Easton Glaciers on Mount Baker, the Le Conte and South Cascade Glaciers along the Ptarmigan Traverse, and the Inspiration Glacier on Eldorado Peak. I will include the years the photograph was taken and the location in the photo captions.</div>
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The easiest glacier to get to and take photos of, was the Coleman Glacier on the north side of Mount Baker; an uphill hike of about 2 1/2 miles. I taught ice climbing on the Coleman Glacier all through the 1980's for a local guide service (and still do volunteer teaching for climbing clubs). </div>
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Even so when I began examining my old photos, I didn't have very many of the glacier from the best perspective. But I think that the following images show the loss in ice thickness really well, and the dramatic recession of the distant Roosevelt Glacier.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8FkqEZ-UUU7dLWe2r7wJyZw7NYARQnFnZzEMBC2FV7wGe9eHf9iDOJCdBzHIk_rYh7bVyU6Y-UTLs4mb18IKjxvFrndJmXLucTnIxxUwXPzX3APKNhnSjeEhLicRPHdpv5FqlbkIl7z8/s1600/Coleman_1981_2005_Combination.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8FkqEZ-UUU7dLWe2r7wJyZw7NYARQnFnZzEMBC2FV7wGe9eHf9iDOJCdBzHIk_rYh7bVyU6Y-UTLs4mb18IKjxvFrndJmXLucTnIxxUwXPzX3APKNhnSjeEhLicRPHdpv5FqlbkIl7z8/s640/Coleman_1981_2005_Combination.jpg" height="640" width="490" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coleman & Roosevelt Glaciers 1981- 2005 from 5700 feet on the Hogsback Path </td></tr>
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As you can see from these first images, I took pains to return close to the same spot where the earlier photo was taken. The next set of glacier images were shot along the Ptarmigan Traverse that follows the Cascade Crest from Cascade Pass south to Spire Point, and eventually Downey Creek. The classic traverse is one of my favorites in the range for scenic wonder, strenuous but not overly technical travel, and spectacular peaks, lakes, and glaciers.</div>
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Planning a Ptarmigan trip during good weather is a must (mid July to mid Sept.). One also needs five to seven days to appreciate the surroundings, and compatible partners who know how to travel safely on a glacier. Finding the exact location of the next shot of the Le Conte Glacier below Old Guard and Sentinel Peaks was not nearly as easy as photographing the glaciers on Baker. A alpine traverse is a much bigger time commitment, and a change in the weather on the crucial day can ruin the photographic mission. I felt that we were on schedule for capturing the same light on the Le Conte Glacier as we crossed the Middle Cascade Glacier on day two.</div>
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Once over the Spider/Formidable col, the climber's path traverses beneath the southeast side of Mount Formidable across talus slopes and snowfields. Holding my 8 x 10 print in my left hand and ice axe in my right hand, I scrutinized the distant scene and tried to align Yang Yang Lakes up with the glacier. I shot some preliminary photos, kept descending toward the lakes, and finally in a patch of heather before the path dropped off steeply, everything fell into place. Using the same campsites as in 1981 helped us reach the photo locations close to the same time of day.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Le Conte Glacier 1981 - 2006 from about 6400 feet above Yang Yang Lakes</td></tr>
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The plan was to camp at Yang Yang Lakes that evening, enjoy the warm dusk light on the peaks while slapping mosquitoes, and then the following day continue the traverse. Close to camp Mountain Monkeyflowers dotted the lush green moss, as the summits of Old Guard and Sentinel flamed red/orange in the evening.</div>
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In the morning an adventurous black bear traversed the talus boulders with ease as we climbed toward the next photo location; the summit of Le Conte Mountain. With only a rope, water bottles and snacks, we scrambled up toward what would become the most impressive view of a glacier on the traverse. Once up the class three and four loose rock, we reached the airy summit where I pulled out my 8 x 10 print. The South Cascade Glacier had receded dramatically in 25 years. The tapered snout had pulled way back from the pea green morainal lake below the ice, and much bedrock was newly exposed. The USGS has studied the South Cascade Glacier and the link below will take you to their data: </div>
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<span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><a href="http://ak.water.usgs.gov/glaciology/south_cascade/" style="color: blue; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 16px; text-decoration: underline;">http://ak.water.usgs.gov/glaciology/south_cascade/</a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">South Cascade Glacier 1981- 2006 from summit Mount Le Conte 7762'</td></tr>
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During the next five years I photographed several more glaciers in the Cascades (and even some in Argentine Patagonia), and finally last summer four in the North Cascades; the Inspiration, Boston, Terror and Easton Glaciers. The 1982 photographs of the Inspiration and Boston Glaciers were taken from the summit of Forbidden Peak. </div>
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I planned a climb of Forbidden's West Ridge with a friend in late September. The weather was supposed to be perfect except for possible smoke from recent forest fires. If the wind direction changed, and the smoke drifted over Forbidden Peak and my target glaciers, any chance of completing my photo record would be thwarted.</div>
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Although most color filters are no longer necessary with use on digital cameras, a polarizing filter remains essential. Especially on days where there is a very thin high cloud cover that ruins the light, or in the case of even a little smoke, a polarizer eliminates much of the scattered light reaching the subject. By rotating it on the lens and viewing the scene through a single lens reflex camera's eyepiece, you can observe the scene improve. There is no substitute for good direct light for making the best photographs. Polarizers work best when the light is striking your subject from the side (90 degrees is optimum). For the scene above with the sun overhead, a polarizer will do nothing.</div>
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My partner and I picked a Tuesday and Wednesday for our West Ridge climb, got a permit from NPS in Marblemount, and stomped up the dusty steep path into Boston Basin. We got a dawn start the next morning from the high bivvies in the basin, weaved up the wet rock slabs, and then cramponed up the shattered Taboo Glacier. Ditching boots, axe and crampons a short ways above the glacier, we climbed rapidly up the dry gully adjacent the couloir (the couloir is broken up badly in late season), and onto the West Ridge.</div>
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Forbidden is comprised of Eldorado Orthogneiss, and by Cascade standards is quite solid. Climbing up the exposed ridge was super fun; the day was clear (the smoke seemed to be lingering on the other side of Cascade Pass) and hardly any wind. We shared the rocky spine with four lads from a Mount Rainier guide service on their days off.</div>
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Once on the summit I shot my buddy traversing the very same spot that my previous partner had in 1982 after climbing the Northwest Face. With my print in hand I directed my friend to nearly the same location, and then blasted away with my Nikon D90 using a 16 to 85mm VR stabilizing lens. This is my current favorite zoom for use in the high alpine. It covers a range of equal to 24mm to 127mm lens, and is compact and lightweight. The following comparison photos reveal significant recession of the Inspiration Glacier. This is purely a visual comparison and not a scientific one.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inspiration Glacier 1982 - 2012 from summit of Forbidden Peak 8815'</td></tr>
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With cropped images one can get a closer look at the ablation zone of the Inspiration Glacier.</div>
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Last in this collection of glacier photos is another one close to home, the Easton Glacier on Mount Baker's southwest side. To get the shot it requires a hike of three miles and 1600 feet to a bench with tarns just below Park Butte. All through the 1980's I spent a lot of time on Mount Baker teaching climbing, and a significant portion of that time on or near the Easton Glacier. A typical class would last five days during which time we taught students all the right stuff to become a skilled alpinist on snow and ice. On the fifth day, weather permitting, we would climb Baker up the Easton Glacier to the crater rim. </div>
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For my early photo of the Easton Glacier in 1987 I carried a 13 pound Korona Gundlach 8 x 10 view camera up to the tarns near Park Butte. Of course in this digital age the concept of carrying and shooting film is difficult to grasp, but the Gundlach camera shot a sheet of color film that was 8 x 10 inches in size. Each film holder had two sheets of film in it, and I carried five holders, ten exposures were possible on one trip. The lens used was a Schneider 210mm Symmar, which was about equal to a 28mm wide-angle. A hefty tripod, black cloth and light meter completed the equipment. When I came across this 1987 photo I couldn't even scan it myself, had to take it to a lab where they did a flatbed scan of the Ectachrome transparency. In the photos below one can clearly see the loss in thickness of the ice in 25 years, especially low on the glacier.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Easton Glacier 1987 - 2012 from 5000' on Park Butte</td></tr>
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I have included here two tighter shots of the Easton's snout (1987 - 2012), illustrating the loss in thickness better.</div>
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Last summer 2013, I was fortunate to join Glaciologist Mauri Pelto for his ongoing glacier studies of Cascade Glaciers. He has been taking measurements and observations since the mid 1980's of the Columbia Glacier in the Monte Cristos, the Lower Curtis Glacier on Mt. Shuksan, the Shoals, Ptarmigan, Rainbow and Easton Glaciers on Mt. Baker, and the Lynch and Ice Worm Glaciers on Mt. Daniels. For a week in August I was able to accompany him and his crew on the Columbia, Lower Curtis, and Rainbow Glaciers. Below is a time-lapse sequence I photographed of his group taking measurements on the Rainbow Glacier, on Mt. Baker's eastern side.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-size: large;"> </span>I have many more glaciers to photograph in the upcoming years; the Forbidden, Deming, Challenger and Lower Curtis Glaciers are tops on my list. Check out my Vanishing Glaciers Photography Workshop coming this summer, where we will do day hikes to the Coleman and Easton Glaciers on Mt. Baker to further document the moving ice, and get great photos. Go to: http://www.alankearney.com/glaciers.html to learn more about the special workshop.<br />
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Alan Kearneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09797537795662546024noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620546845781999698.post-35499099885079503232013-11-01T11:08:00.000-07:002013-11-01T11:08:46.940-07:00Pickets Ski Traverse 2013<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dave Neff crossing the Challenger Glacier in 1973. Slesse in upper right.</td></tr>
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It all began in 1973 when my college buddy Dave Neff and I decided to attempt the Pickets Traverse in September, before classes started in the fall. Outfitted with REI Cruiser packs, stiff leather boots (Hanwag Rondoys for me Galibier Super Guides for Dave), wool clothing, ice axe, crampons, 120 foot rope, Stoppers screws, and a week's supply of food, we set out. A route description would have been useful, but someone forgot to bring it.<br />
Like many of my Picket adventures (135 days spent in the range over 22 trips) it approached epic status: things get difficult, weather hideous, or the unexpected happens. We did have nice weather for our climb of Challenger, but as we descended into Luna Cirque (one of two Pickets crucibles that render alpinists into jelly), wispy clouds began to appear overhead. Our 120 foot rope and four ice screws did not seem sufficient gear to tackle the ice face on Fury's northeast side (these days people ski it) as we tiptoed past.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dave Neff below summit Mt. Challenger</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dave Neff at Luna Lake, Fury above</td></tr>
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Once out of the cirque we were puzzled as to how to continue the traverse on Fury's backside. Nothing was obvious, although we could look across McMillan Cirque (second crucible) and see the Southern Pickets. The craggy peaks seemed tantalizingly close, but there was a pesky brush-choked valley walled by cliffs in the way.<br />
Dave peered over the edge and suggested we down climb and rappel into McMillan Cirque, then climb straight up out the other side. Twelve years later Chris Copeland and Josh Lieberman attempted to do that after climbing Fury's North Buttress. In a whiteout they missed the left turn off the glacier leading back to Luna Cirque, and continued down to McMillan Creek. Hemmed in by a tangle of vine maple and slide alders they chose to make for Big Beaver Trail: it took them two days to travel four and half miles.<br />
I thought it would be the equivalent of stepping into quicksand: horrible wet muck that will be difficult to extricate one's self from. I refused. Dave got mad, hell bent on finishing the traverse as he was. We ended up retracing our route back to Luna Cirque, crossed the Challenger Glacier in a whiteout, and sneaked past tottering seracs on the East Whatcom Glacier.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9oBXuKivcL-h7GbWRpGiZn65-9bEy47yKqEriiv_KzibSzWlAtRwqXTR5ml9ehS6sSnWVUi99ue9Z1Knwc9PgC7ryw2ryByMgFqETaU7EnmKhxXxQUGyxLNFZSssmKOcVZROMuVRl09I/s1600/Alan+and+Mt.+Fury_1973.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9oBXuKivcL-h7GbWRpGiZn65-9bEy47yKqEriiv_KzibSzWlAtRwqXTR5ml9ehS6sSnWVUi99ue9Z1Knwc9PgC7ryw2ryByMgFqETaU7EnmKhxXxQUGyxLNFZSssmKOcVZROMuVRl09I/s640/Alan+and+Mt.+Fury_1973.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alan at Luna Pass 1973</td></tr>
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I made many excursions to the rugged little range reaching summits, or waiting in tents as it rained or snowed: sometimes never seeing the intended objective. But the climbs that added pertinent information in order to ski all the way through were: Fury's North Buttress, a winter attempt on East McMillans North Face, and a south to north traverse in the summertime.<br />
In September of 1992 Mark Price and I headed into the Northern Pickets for a climb of Mount fury's North Buttress. We accessed the range from Chilliwack Lake in Canada, and the Chilliwack River Trail. The trail has long been neglected (on purpose due to the unguarded border) by North Cascades National Park. Yes, terrorism and drug trafficking does affect climber's access. That year was the last time I remember the trail being barely passable; now it is a nightmare of giant windfalls and overgrown trail. But it worked for us in 92, and we climbed over the top of Mount Whatcom, crossed the Challenger Glacier, and descended into Luna Cirque to camp at Luna Lake.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw9cKzSiddnVGGXpl-AJxxMUoh_TzU97oTL4sy5qQfRJxLqkvFYMBiMtVVvDG_ZT5MskhQxadO517RHYvn_UZiQbvYdXqQWNmpKZmYmX09xXAUEqvaIUijEOpppIBNMMTWh4a7xvzF_MU/s1600/Fury+From+Air.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw9cKzSiddnVGGXpl-AJxxMUoh_TzU97oTL4sy5qQfRJxLqkvFYMBiMtVVvDG_ZT5MskhQxadO517RHYvn_UZiQbvYdXqQWNmpKZmYmX09xXAUEqvaIUijEOpppIBNMMTWh4a7xvzF_MU/s640/Fury+From+Air.jpg" width="422" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Northeast Face and North Buttress Mt. Fury from the air</td></tr>
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Nowadays I probably wouldn't even attempt to climb Fury in the autumn with the weather forecast that we had; one or two good days out of eight, the other six rain and snow. But I wanted to climb the route badly, and we did. Didn't quite make the summit however, and spent a cold night under a slight overhang, as a bushy-tailed woodrat harassed us. With down jackets only and a stove, we at least had hot drinks, but no sleep.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyNPV1h_AOZDdU6syIUmoVVLI07tx_roP3tI8o1HF7Eg0q_aDBlNLqgR_x4d1nKDOm3w-QxvJJ6lZU7yqzkNquljQxEE0wpsFNVQMhbLU93j72BezJH7UKTSz06SgzMI7zt_-JSwExKaI/s1600/Mark+Price+On+Fury.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyNPV1h_AOZDdU6syIUmoVVLI07tx_roP3tI8o1HF7Eg0q_aDBlNLqgR_x4d1nKDOm3w-QxvJJ6lZU7yqzkNquljQxEE0wpsFNVQMhbLU93j72BezJH7UKTSz06SgzMI7zt_-JSwExKaI/s400/Mark+Price+On+Fury.jpg" width="263" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mark Price on the North Buttress</td></tr>
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The climb itself was good but very long. The late<br />
season made for more rock climbing down low (Beckey<br />
and Davis in July of 1962 climbed a lot of snow to avoid<br />
much of the rock). We didn't. And the days were short,<br />
routefinding tricky, and pro not always where one wanted it.<br />
All those factors cost us time, the most precious of alpine commodities. Following the grim bivy (it began to rain during the night), we groped our way over the summit in wind, and rain, and got back to our tent at Luna Lake drenched and tired.<br />
My old and worn out single-wall tent had three inches of standing water on the floor, and pads, bags, and remaining food floated about like the flotsam from a torpedoed ship. We passed a grim three days squeezed together in our remaining dry sleeping bag, as outside a September storm lashed the cirque with wind, and dumped several inches of snow. <br />
Nearly out of food and fuel, we decided to exit the Pickets via the cirque, skirt the Challenger Glacier on the northeast, and rappel slabs down into the head of Little Beaver Creek. It did work, and we got back three days later than expected; 7 days became 10.<br />
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In 1996 Dana Hagin and I had a near-perfect non-epic trip into the range when we put up a new route on the Northeast Buttress of Inspiration Peak (see my blog about it on this website). Four years later with Carl Skoog, I climbed The Pyramid and normal route on East McMillan Spire. Both trips had great weather, went according to plan, and finished on time. But when that occurs in the Pickets you feel as though you are treading on thin ice; at any moment (probably the next visit) one is likely to plunge headfirst into the murky, wet, terror the serrated peaks are so famous for.<br />
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Seven years later Dana and I attempted to climb the North Face of East McMillan Spire in winter (its still awaiting a first winter ascent), and it was one of the hardest trips I've done into those remote peaks. Our packs were super heavy, loaded with ten days food and fuel, plus climbing and camping gear for winter. And as is so often the case in the Cascades, timing with the weather was everything.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7_dySZqqdSIz-K53XurxkPJvDQCYYLJr7eJeA1C7M-pmN94E_lKdlZ0nJkV47xtL-8HoK947XI4sfGnqe4lY_WgdPBN2e9oWFeHNZYw6skpbDrpHvi0j1r3HpTXzDaGA9WDNlOSszdI8/s1600/North+Face+McMillans.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7_dySZqqdSIz-K53XurxkPJvDQCYYLJr7eJeA1C7M-pmN94E_lKdlZ0nJkV47xtL-8HoK947XI4sfGnqe4lY_WgdPBN2e9oWFeHNZYw6skpbDrpHvi0j1r3HpTXzDaGA9WDNlOSszdI8/s400/North+Face+McMillans.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">North Face of McMillan Spires in winter</td></tr>
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On the approach to East McMillan the weather was perfect (and had been for ten days or so creating good conditions), but as we got to the base and bivied, it changed. We got about a quarter of the way up the face on some of the best mixed climbing I've ever done; styrofoam hard snow coating steep corners and ramps. But the temperature warmed up dramatically while we were climbing, and the good conditions deteriorated. It was frustrating, but did add much to my knowledge of the Pickets in winter, and especially the entrance into McMillan Cirque.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfExc1u1GY9upvPwPsmHSjjXtP9VKw8XAVOHtcGv9m7K9jJpMWthc1-MzFsYLTTVSisId-OOXqmV0jeknUYtTDdw0kymt9Ok8xPVyfDcJhP-hGBsJr8dZ5M26c1D5efk-F5mzom-7eQgo/s1600/Dana+On+McMillan+In+Winter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="427" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfExc1u1GY9upvPwPsmHSjjXtP9VKw8XAVOHtcGv9m7K9jJpMWthc1-MzFsYLTTVSisId-OOXqmV0jeknUYtTDdw0kymt9Ok8xPVyfDcJhP-hGBsJr8dZ5M26c1D5efk-F5mzom-7eQgo/s640/Dana+On+McMillan+In+Winter.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dana Hagin on the North Face of East McMillan Spire in February</td></tr>
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In 2008 I was finally able to completer the traverse of the Pickets from south to north with Shawn Olson. During the third week of July we started the trip up Goodell Creek, crossed Terror Creek, and climbed steeply up onto the Barrier. On day two the sky remained clear as we traversed into Crescent Creek Basin, and kicked steps up steep snow to the Himmlehorn/Ottohorn Col. Dark clouds materialized from nowhere (as is often the case in the Piglets), as I prepared anchors for us to rappel to the Mustard Glacier below. Shawn was not excited at the prospect of dropping into the unknown.<br />
Once down and onto a small rock island, we made camp and watched it rain and snow for two days. Late on the second day it seemed to be clearing a bit, and we quickly packed up, and traversed to Picket Pass just before dark.<br />
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It was tight making it to a good campsite in<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBj7K9pCiP3ku0jnVhZhSrDRtPWYRLwuODUnUtyLJLf4YELrbqi7OJWqjT8I4zKDZK8z4DuJimVuEM0QA2a6DzHSzXlFddqxd5ER9m_mnvjBgf5T0OdkokVtfVANmCY8ZabTDAseq4mzM/s1600/Shawn+Traversing+%2526+Fog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBj7K9pCiP3ku0jnVhZhSrDRtPWYRLwuODUnUtyLJLf4YELrbqi7OJWqjT8I4zKDZK8z4DuJimVuEM0QA2a6DzHSzXlFddqxd5ER9m_mnvjBgf5T0OdkokVtfVANmCY8ZabTDAseq4mzM/s320/Shawn+Traversing+%2526+Fog.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shawn Olson near Picket Pass</td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: center;">time but the shreds of evening mist floating by, and the </span><span style="text-align: center;">jagged Crescent Creek Spires in the background made up for it. </span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;"> Perfectly flat grassy benches surrounded by heather and stunted Mountain Hemlocks dotted the pass. If not for having to finish the traverse, we might have never left that idyllic spot in the high mountains.</span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;"> We lingered over morning coffee, shot photos, and dried out damp socks in the warm morning sun. In the distance the entire Southern Pickets created a stone fence that punctuated the blue sky.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwIW6PVTlbuepCrG_jARFGmh6AV2yk6-3FLuwUQHQS3nLuXaKC4vnZ94APvRky-B3d4bj3ZzE8bNTjDgrmt8-aODuj7wYrP8OsZJ2gDk9sy0UXc52dAJLpibF5fdKJc4d2n-n2oqFCbNc/s1600/Picket_Pass.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwIW6PVTlbuepCrG_jARFGmh6AV2yk6-3FLuwUQHQS3nLuXaKC4vnZ94APvRky-B3d4bj3ZzE8bNTjDgrmt8-aODuj7wYrP8OsZJ2gDk9sy0UXc52dAJLpibF5fdKJc4d2n-n2oqFCbNc/s640/Picket_Pass.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shawn Olson st Picket Pass in the morning</td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: center;"> Day five began clear, but increasing clouds developed into a downpour. As we neared Luna Pass it was getting late, and every flat spot was filled with water. We opted for a large slightly sloping boulder to pitch the single wall tent on, in the hopes the rain would at least drain away. No chance of getting up Luna Peak in that storm. everything was soaked, and in the morning I sponged several cups of water out of the bottom of the tent.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJsmu6SX8iQ5Y-Wwm0qD770MNz2LXVd8bm6L-h8h26plWFiKsIFKQsqmoqcZT01FuyWaFN_BKhgR87BPyCuL22qm1KBDVpV3jWyisCVS3nUZb_Y1MBhJtY7j_iDCog9cSqBeK8Vo9kFA8/s1600/Crossing+Outlet+Luna+Lake%252C+Day.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJsmu6SX8iQ5Y-Wwm0qD770MNz2LXVd8bm6L-h8h26plWFiKsIFKQsqmoqcZT01FuyWaFN_BKhgR87BPyCuL22qm1KBDVpV3jWyisCVS3nUZb_Y1MBhJtY7j_iDCog9cSqBeK8Vo9kFA8/s400/Crossing+Outlet+Luna+Lake%252C+Day.jpg" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shawn Olson crosses outlet of Luna Lake</td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: center;"> Under overcast skies we threaded our way down to Luna Lake between narrow cliffs, crossed the outlet of the icy lake, and slowly did a rising traverse toward the northwest edge of the cirque and a good campsite.</span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;"> With seracs above and cliffs below, there is only one reasonable way up and out of the huge glacial-carved bowl. And since I hadn't been there since 1992, the route info would become useful when skiing it in 2013. </span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;"> That night it did not rain, and the tent began to dry out. I had hoped the traverse would not have required all eight days of food we carried, but waiting on the Mustard Glacier had eaten up time and supplies. Although an ascent of Challenger would have been fun on day seven, we passed it up as the peak winked in and out of low clouds.</span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;"> The Eiley/Wiley High Route to Beaver Pass was tricky and a lot steeper than I remembered from as solo trip in 1991. Morning dew covering incredibly steep heather and hellabore slopes, called for the use of ice axes (piolet turf is my favorite term for such terrain). Once off the traverse we descended brush between cliffs to reach the pass. One more long day on easy trail, got us to Ross Dam and the end.</span><br />
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<span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span>
<span style="text-align: center;"> I really got psyched about trying to ski the Pickets Traverse when I skied the Ptarmigan Traverse with Carl Skoog in 2002. I asked him questions about his 1985 May traverse with brother Lowell and Jens Kieler (the first time the range had been skied). With the summer traverse under my belt, it was a matter of getting in shape, and finding a willing partner.</span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;"> Kyle Breakey took the Mountaineers Basic Climbing course several years ago, and was already a hot skier. He joined me on a Bear Mountain climb in 2012, and was keen to do more in the alpine. In the early part of 2013 the weather was not cooperating for extended periods. Then finally in late March it looked as though we were going to get six days of clear skies; and there would be sufficient snowpack in the bottom of McMillan Cirque (the lowest point on the traverse).</span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;"> The plan was to hike up Sourdough Mountain from Diablo, then ski out Stetattle Ridge west, drop into McMillan Cirque, up and around Luna Peak, Luna Cirque, Challenger Glacier, Easy Ridge, Mineral Mountain, Chilliwack Pass, and Hannegan Pass. I packed food for six days; it weighed eight and a half pounds, and was barely enough. Taking a tarp and leaving the tent saved two pounds, but made for grim living on two nights.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh8_NvmD6Ugd-Buz99EHN4DjgVizV_09auoTYBtDFjNYHVx4VKL3-ubQun1tFb2zIy4B1c6mvcSzxOl51X9qAgA1Hzmg5D2FTZVqjVVThtrYruFiT22CsK3Tg9YoAlXHwDhUiFD9Zr3vg/s1600/Route+Map_7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="454" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh8_NvmD6Ugd-Buz99EHN4DjgVizV_09auoTYBtDFjNYHVx4VKL3-ubQun1tFb2zIy4B1c6mvcSzxOl51X9qAgA1Hzmg5D2FTZVqjVVThtrYruFiT22CsK3Tg9YoAlXHwDhUiFD9Zr3vg/s640/Route+Map_7.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ski Traverse from Diablo to Hannegan Pass</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
On March 30th we started up Sourdough Mountain with packs loaded and skis strapped on. Still a good 1500 feet below the ridgecrest, we encountered Steph Abegg, Mike Torok, Matt Burton and Carla Schauble on snowshoes. They were out for two days and a climb of Sourpatch, just northwest of Sourdough. Forn straight up work snowshoes are good, and with lighter packs they outdistanced us easily. That first evening Kyle and I skied a couple miles west on then ridge and pitched our tarp between some Mountain Hemlocks. It was then first of two times we used it.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv5Iaq6HnrP4iHIz_xEgc4bJIvn7-Cv2AtE0ppELGJLS1U7_2XEcHdgBuWpl7oZphIoSeyp_xglO-dEPuiXcLhddhvL4rNG8iJ9QltmvwucaGjpCh-2w9IHmLqH5WAlRBaI4sMpVvoPO4/s1600/Tarp+Camp+Stetattle+Rg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv5Iaq6HnrP4iHIz_xEgc4bJIvn7-Cv2AtE0ppELGJLS1U7_2XEcHdgBuWpl7oZphIoSeyp_xglO-dEPuiXcLhddhvL4rNG8iJ9QltmvwucaGjpCh-2w9IHmLqH5WAlRBaI4sMpVvoPO4/s400/Tarp+Camp+Stetattle+Rg.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First night's tarp camp on Stetattle Ridge</td></tr>
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For most of the trip we built snow forts to cut the wind, and it enabled quicker starts in the morning not having to stuff frozen fabric, and fiddle with knots.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2MQ6aeuqxXDLQNmfgULJw0yrZBLPNWUP9y63sDZQeDjSJGWxMyds4veM3WXahJnWr-XCt7WW4LCikO_5HJrN8o2NqaTXQOeqpO9M4p0N_vfFKVZBf3jOVqBrgLBqNtneRmxt5pIcElIw/s1600/Cornices+Stetattle+Rg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="273" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2MQ6aeuqxXDLQNmfgULJw0yrZBLPNWUP9y63sDZQeDjSJGWxMyds4veM3WXahJnWr-XCt7WW4LCikO_5HJrN8o2NqaTXQOeqpO9M4p0N_vfFKVZBf3jOVqBrgLBqNtneRmxt5pIcElIw/s400/Cornices+Stetattle+Rg.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cornices on Stetattle Ridge</td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: center;"> We made some miles on day two, dropped in and out of the big dip east of </span><span style="text-align: center;">Elephant B</span><span style="text-align: center;">utte, and quit early just SW of the butte when mushy slopes threatened to slide. It was a perfect evening in the high mountains as we cooked dinner inside snug snow walls. I was a bit alarmed at how much fuel we had used on the previous night, and vowed to preheat the Whisperlite with starter paste, and melt snow with black bags whenever possible. </span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1zIjZfAj0GCIRCL2Oe2CLVx_zVvLdNUsFmHcTcmzPJR7NqVz0PzdM_0N7fzsTWg1PEA9d1yQzXnxF5898s7rMsm51TGYlufLN5-rp_YjeyUVjdKW1xlAycwrna2IviXWP6g-TaAqXFKY/s1600/Camp+Below+Elephant+B.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1zIjZfAj0GCIRCL2Oe2CLVx_zVvLdNUsFmHcTcmzPJR7NqVz0PzdM_0N7fzsTWg1PEA9d1yQzXnxF5898s7rMsm51TGYlufLN5-rp_YjeyUVjdKW1xlAycwrna2IviXWP6g-TaAqXFKY/s640/Camp+Below+Elephant+B.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kyle in snow fort below Elephant Butte</td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span>
<span style="text-align: center;"> A warm dawn light washed over Peak 7200 on April 1st as we sipped coffee, and contemplated the day's efforts. Getting in and out of McMillan Cirque was potentially one of the trip's cruxes.</span><br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpt7ewfN_UZGp8ptfbmUpDhJoptPuQRNwj4z03UAEu-2G11AaUKUxvrP6Tu9HYK4XKu4lsicPr499H4wGwgIcxMaHs2dUp2OBox55FRi7I5Glwdo9gvgPSRNjGZw3b4CQxh3Qyz8ZPAFY/s1600/Moon+Over+Pk+7200.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpt7ewfN_UZGp8ptfbmUpDhJoptPuQRNwj4z03UAEu-2G11AaUKUxvrP6Tu9HYK4XKu4lsicPr499H4wGwgIcxMaHs2dUp2OBox55FRi7I5Glwdo9gvgPSRNjGZw3b4CQxh3Qyz8ZPAFY/s400/Moon+Over+Pk+7200.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Moon at dawn, Peak 7200</td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: center;"> Spirits were high, and just to be near the Pickets only ten days after the official "end" of winter was exhilarating in itself.</span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;"> Just ten years ago Dana and I had trudged up out of Stetattle Creek with the icy walls of 7200 for a backdrop; just another nameless peak in a range of 1100 summits. </span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;"> Time to get packed up: dried out items like insoles and sox come off our warm chests and into boot liners, the stove and precious fuel is packed away as if it were a multi-million dollar satellite heading for Mars, check the taped feet, roll the 3/4 therma rest as tight as possible, cram small items deeply in pack leaving no empty spaces, scrape nighttime ice off skis, one last sip of coffee, into boots and reef down buckles, stomp into bindings, pack on and tighten </span>waistbelt.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJRit5fi-ye3ivuRnhWFC7fEVB54KSySODzZSpwr-GLJa-HHaJM3JBCsIrtmSA5crUWBH1X71kKXgsfqEwZSB6QuXo5P9lrg954gE9zdXSJ4V1qqhPNISK4OhFu97CdDXOtWtmK_gcUdE/s1600/Dawn+Start+Elephant+B.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJRit5fi-ye3ivuRnhWFC7fEVB54KSySODzZSpwr-GLJa-HHaJM3JBCsIrtmSA5crUWBH1X71kKXgsfqEwZSB6QuXo5P9lrg954gE9zdXSJ4V1qqhPNISK4OhFu97CdDXOtWtmK_gcUdE/s400/Dawn+Start+Elephant+B.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Breaking camp at dawn, Stetattle Ridge</td></tr>
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We're finally moving! On across the long smooth slopes we slid towards East McMillan Spire in the distance, its jagged tooth of Skagit Gneiss frosted with March snow. At then 6300 foot saddle east of McMillan, finally a look into the forebidding cirque with the same name. After a quick snack and drink, we plunge over the side, at first just booting, then below don skis again. Soon we're carving through a half foot of powder on a descent into the giant arena.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuHAuHh96wMzu0OODfSSnkiGtojxCYbOi-tbMcglpBNXdsC9UTICYDjLtQHt88ItsLcDCX2qstRla0tPB2qCIPAUEkksBInsoXqrlnoc2d54vzkCp3ne13wpRQJ2IHkwuwjvzszIn-gWs/s1600/Skiing+Into+Mac+Cirque.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuHAuHh96wMzu0OODfSSnkiGtojxCYbOi-tbMcglpBNXdsC9UTICYDjLtQHt88ItsLcDCX2qstRla0tPB2qCIPAUEkksBInsoXqrlnoc2d54vzkCp3ne13wpRQJ2IHkwuwjvzszIn-gWs/s400/Skiing+Into+Mac+Cirque.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kyle begins the descent into McMillan Cirque</td></tr>
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But the fun doesn't last, and soon it is not obvious how to reach the bottom easily. A traverse westward keeps us above cliffs, and to avoid one nasty chasm we must climb even higher, attach ski crampons, get out our axes, and gingerly shuffle across an ice avalanche gutter. We should have stopped and put on the real crampons, but we got hasty. That was followed by bad snow, and rollovers that prevented a straight shot at the bottom.<br />
Kyle took one spill and stopped, then below we had to boot down s short bit to gain gentle slopes in the bottom.<br />
A needed lunch break was in order, then find a way to cross McMillan Creek, which appeared to have snow bridges.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2vk2m-3w84Nd71-Lv_YLGhmtQf9LoKuMvQO2wJosj3snFYc27hH1ZePfcesYTanxH4NAQaYjIt04EggG3uf7ISNkH6wpU4z1t8Cuz1fn8m-tjFXqZkyq2hNX0CWa3VgLap5z7oaS13YY/s1600/McMillans+Sun+and+Skier.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2vk2m-3w84Nd71-Lv_YLGhmtQf9LoKuMvQO2wJosj3snFYc27hH1ZePfcesYTanxH4NAQaYjIt04EggG3uf7ISNkH6wpU4z1t8Cuz1fn8m-tjFXqZkyq2hNX0CWa3VgLap5z7oaS13YY/s640/McMillans+Sun+and+Skier.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Making turns below McMillan, inspiration and Terror</td></tr>
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The creek was spanned by what looked to be thick snow in places, and with Kyle a bit out of view, I tried gliding across one. In the heat of midday it gave way, dumping my headfirst toward the creek. I was upside down, one ski buried deep and my boot attached, the other dangling from the safety strap. Lucky for me there was a boulder just above the water's surface, and I was able to step down, and then spend ten minutes extricating my buried ski. Nothing injured, no damage to skis. Stupid and lucky.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcAwqT3xMfpj1EZVLk6Rq_F1clXD1ktx_pLAwFWoL58n9_A8ElHKEK5xl_rhGWS8LjZdJVM4dAkcHB4g3VtaK1J605KJaBqXpq5jNIpm9FrnWwov8RVWqc14aEvv-zA8JRgyiTPZMhInU/s1600/McMillan+Luna+Route.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcAwqT3xMfpj1EZVLk6Rq_F1clXD1ktx_pLAwFWoL58n9_A8ElHKEK5xl_rhGWS8LjZdJVM4dAkcHB4g3VtaK1J605KJaBqXpq5jNIpm9FrnWwov8RVWqc14aEvv-zA8JRgyiTPZMhInU/s400/McMillan+Luna+Route.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our route out of McMillan Cirque and over to Luna</td></tr>
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From the debacle in the creek we skinned up a rubble-filled chasm toward the southeast side of Fury. this was the most nerve-wracking place of all as there was plenty of recent avalanche debris in it. But there appeared no other way up out of the cirque.<br />
About two thirds of the way up it, I suggested we climb up onto a rock ledge twenty feet above the gutter and take a break. While drying out boot liners, we figured a way to climb up to the east, and avoid getting flushed in the chute. <br />
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The canyon fell into shadow as we ascended to a headwall, and our campsite for the night.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeY3ds8OIW7uRbS_Gk3fMKIqxWg8TiqVaMC3iq1DbNl8qIzpDDK43TaXCphx-FqxireVOOMBUimtfvbP7db-5ayP3C-_Rr7MzWMOJlUwQWEOAYlqQ9L7KEzgmXC6GH_hO0sHvMbIGCZOY/s1600/Kyle+Eating+Dinner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeY3ds8OIW7uRbS_Gk3fMKIqxWg8TiqVaMC3iq1DbNl8qIzpDDK43TaXCphx-FqxireVOOMBUimtfvbP7db-5ayP3C-_Rr7MzWMOJlUwQWEOAYlqQ9L7KEzgmXC6GH_hO0sHvMbIGCZOY/s400/Kyle+Eating+Dinner.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kyle at dinner below Mt. Fury</td></tr>
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We were happy to at least ben out of the bottom of McMillan Cirque, but to completely escape it we still had to climb 1100 feet of steep hart snow in the morning. Just before dinner a big slide creamed our ascent route. We needed a cold night, and an early start to make it up the broad gully before the sun hit it.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP1Mp3Xe2hUvVeCGXJieaV6OWoLzZcaryPQrG-6H8xDy7oPpvdkhmtlAtGyRYFXRrIUdU4smDDOihxo5_tiLkgx1C9ILAhZmOwIyJvk7ZsbnUxcasW9o976LNYBGvSoTzrz5J09wItLsw/s1600/Climbing+Out+Of+Mac+Cirque.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP1Mp3Xe2hUvVeCGXJieaV6OWoLzZcaryPQrG-6H8xDy7oPpvdkhmtlAtGyRYFXRrIUdU4smDDOihxo5_tiLkgx1C9ILAhZmOwIyJvk7ZsbnUxcasW9o976LNYBGvSoTzrz5J09wItLsw/s400/Climbing+Out+Of+Mac+Cirque.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kyle nears the big gully</td></tr>
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With the aid of belays, slings around small trees, and a few Stoppers in the rock, we cramponed carefully up to safe slopes on the southeast side of Mt. Fury. Already the sun was hitting the East Face of Outrigger Peak to the southwest, causing slides.<br />
My eight-point steel crampons bit into the hard snow, and I was glad my pack was no heavier than it was now that my skis were strapped on. It was a tense bit of work, not knowing for sure if sun-warmed slopes above us would cut loose.<br />
At the last trees and into the sun, we unroped, took a break, and skinned up. A rocky spur up and to the east, looked like a good spot for a longer break, and some black bag snow melting.<br />
Because of the warm weather our traverse was a juxtaposition of joy and anxiety: the joy of being in spectacular surroundings, and the anxiety of constantly monitoring snow conditions, and aspects.<br />
We didn't smile much at dinner time now. The slope below Luna Peak was about halfway, and at 2 in the afternoon it was roaring with one avalanche after another. To go on, to wait, or to exit the traverse down and out Access Creek to Big Beaver were our options.<br />
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We discussed the situation thoroughly and decided to wait for four hours, and see if the slope up to luna Pass would freeze once it fell into shadow. Our black bags were melting more snow as another element of anxiety entered our world; changing weather, with moisture clouds coalescing over the Southern Pickets.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcldAyDwT4Jlr4TOfAaF6XarexO-9vM8ZCHGriwryLmfRfs7mRtvgUZDNlfXUcf_I3Gp6v7NJNbdSF28_5ifZ8d2yzzjGhgjOfI-c08ZL66_1OQnC2xEXBFA2xofOmRyWvUaTRGyXphaQ/s1600/Storm+Clouds+S.+Pickets.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="430" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcldAyDwT4Jlr4TOfAaF6XarexO-9vM8ZCHGriwryLmfRfs7mRtvgUZDNlfXUcf_I3Gp6v7NJNbdSF28_5ifZ8d2yzzjGhgjOfI-c08ZL66_1OQnC2xEXBFA2xofOmRyWvUaTRGyXphaQ/s640/Storm+Clouds+S.+Pickets.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Approaching storm over Southern Pickets</td></tr>
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The slope above did freeze, and we skinned, booted, and cramponed up over the pass at 10:30 pm.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio4xl4EV9e9bdMFdx_FhoUB4QUNJfZz6ioxIyXYJiAOtcprxok3F6HuIkO9RHv5NrSeWzxOEHtKh4KT3csoYTTNbSJnmXjJwK3TArf56jUcxhgJAfec_bjK0_77Mqi3W-dha-IqthoXIc/s1600/Luna+Pass+At+Night.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio4xl4EV9e9bdMFdx_FhoUB4QUNJfZz6ioxIyXYJiAOtcprxok3F6HuIkO9RHv5NrSeWzxOEHtKh4KT3csoYTTNbSJnmXjJwK3TArf56jUcxhgJAfec_bjK0_77Mqi3W-dha-IqthoXIc/s400/Luna+Pass+At+Night.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Luna Pass at night</td></tr>
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The runnels from slides were frozen hard and steep. Crampons were essential on the hard crust that sometimes collapsed, giving way to knee-deep mush beneath. </div>
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Five hundred feet below the pass and into Luna Cirque, we finally stopped and built our fourth snow fort. Fury shown bright and clear in the morning, as we munched pop tarts and drank coffee.</div>
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Tired feet went slowly into stiff cold boots, and I handed Kyle back the foam from inside his pack; it had been under my feet as I had brought a partial Therma Rest. My square of pack foam was snatched away by the wind two days before.</div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidBUrLR1FWqAHY2p6vTiObjg1gs-O5z-APFzvpkdTu2gjXzOhMVZtinGSMfcOKq2uwUSi6JMyVg_h7mb0LNTdYk2GjxzAdPcs-kgL2Z9pDCCIBnI5shpYWGrOmhVAdK6DgcGkr4E3EYHg/s1600/Fury+In+Morning.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidBUrLR1FWqAHY2p6vTiObjg1gs-O5z-APFzvpkdTu2gjXzOhMVZtinGSMfcOKq2uwUSi6JMyVg_h7mb0LNTdYk2GjxzAdPcs-kgL2Z9pDCCIBnI5shpYWGrOmhVAdK6DgcGkr4E3EYHg/s400/Fury+In+Morning.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The peaks of Luna Cirque</td></tr>
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Kyle had the right idea about dropping down to Luna Lake, and I picked the harder way cause I couldn't see the bottom of his route. Later, looking back, we could see it went. But there have been many times in the mountains in summer and winter, I've had to climb back up out of wrong turns.<br />
Alpinists have also made fatal mistakes by not retracing their wrong turn, and attempting to force a way down where its too difficult. Several days later at Chilliwack Pass, it was his turn to call me out, and insist on the longer, safer way.<br />
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Luna Cirque provided the best corn run of the trip, as we zoomed past Luna Lake in a long crispy glide.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaBEq-DqYT1RsJM-MqrOZg3-MdA1QsdaVB8xvOjAqP4y0xleP0-SnYAGVt9mRVzEHpwYJP7Phjd46iP-HIejIm2DZD5_t-rrUCJbNF8fZkTVZgH7CBJDLLGp3EHQXfjz66aRSRsAtXDy8/s1600/Skier+Below+Fury.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaBEq-DqYT1RsJM-MqrOZg3-MdA1QsdaVB8xvOjAqP4y0xleP0-SnYAGVt9mRVzEHpwYJP7Phjd46iP-HIejIm2DZD5_t-rrUCJbNF8fZkTVZgH7CBJDLLGp3EHQXfjz66aRSRsAtXDy8/s400/Skier+Below+Fury.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kyle pauses below Mt. Fury</td></tr>
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The day was cooler, and the avalanche activity much reduced. A scant 30 minutes was spent in the bottom, before deciding it was safe to get up and out of there.<br />
From the northwest edge of Luna Cirque our route lay across the gentle Challenger Glacier; our destination Perfect Pass. As we started across roped up, the sky was clear, but a cloud bank lingered low on the west edge of the ice field.<br />
The pass winked in and out of the clouds, and then as we neared it, became completely obscured by fog. We groped upwards beneath a giant cornice that loomed eerily through the mist.<br />
Kyle reached what he thought might be the pass, but there was no way to tell for sure. We were tired, it was late, the wind had picked up, and it started snowing. We dug a half cave, and pulled ourselves in, like overgrown Hermit Crabs trying to fit in shell too small.<br />
But it gave us some protection from the damp wind, and especially a place to put the stove and cook. It was the last night we still had food for a dinner. I hoped that the fuel would hold out for making hot drinks, and of course melting snow.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQubsN70HRSgZk2rFW-rr2RZL6NM1XAwkO5PIRGCxf6WTTmgAq7P_TLTeblKvceW0NvGgrZFRfpxqmKkdbaCAbNkfcUaToc6cj7DEc7p3wMP5qEb7f8oU9P5-DX9IwOjIT7LPFaEtnwvQ/s1600/Half+Cave+Perfect+Pass.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQubsN70HRSgZk2rFW-rr2RZL6NM1XAwkO5PIRGCxf6WTTmgAq7P_TLTeblKvceW0NvGgrZFRfpxqmKkdbaCAbNkfcUaToc6cj7DEc7p3wMP5qEb7f8oU9P5-DX9IwOjIT7LPFaEtnwvQ/s640/Half+Cave+Perfect+Pass.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kyle at Perfect Pass on the morning of day 6</td></tr>
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Our sleep was fitful not knowing what hazards and routefinding difficulties still lay ahead. Next morning our skis were rimed up, everything was soaked, and boots were snowy.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtSRWZvCH-W8mG6oBP7lCV6AclMHMKTbRI3Duo1jAuFHvNXF83M9vMgP4xLuSns6xkQIHT5-FyIT0V2BUcDXfPSZEmlsTHO6txzZ4HiCX0oFS-6i-_teU3of0TxFgiKCkZ8RZFDjhAOjA/s1600/Snowy+Boots.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtSRWZvCH-W8mG6oBP7lCV6AclMHMKTbRI3Duo1jAuFHvNXF83M9vMgP4xLuSns6xkQIHT5-FyIT0V2BUcDXfPSZEmlsTHO6txzZ4HiCX0oFS-6i-_teU3of0TxFgiKCkZ8RZFDjhAOjA/s400/Snowy+Boots.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Boot shells at Perfect Pass</td></tr>
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The fog was beginning to thin, and we were optimistic we'd have enough viz to find our way down off the pass. Kyle scoped a steep gully that led to easier slopes below, and from there we hiked downward and toward Imperfect Pass.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyPF7bDR7LcIsh0FvRfBY2h_JYZzVyhzvPQXD-Yjz6RT6HER3pnf9tsDmQqwHZJhWxiUOEWy2hbUAeaU5VR8SY_wkpwFTlgZStP5vCjLrOlDMcODCzzUKWIWMnbBr-7tytzRMq6eMfXHY/s1600/Below+Perfect+Pass.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyPF7bDR7LcIsh0FvRfBY2h_JYZzVyhzvPQXD-Yjz6RT6HER3pnf9tsDmQqwHZJhWxiUOEWy2hbUAeaU5VR8SY_wkpwFTlgZStP5vCjLrOlDMcODCzzUKWIWMnbBr-7tytzRMq6eMfXHY/s640/Below+Perfect+Pass.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carrying skis down toward Imperfect Pass</td></tr>
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The plan was to try and stay high, and cross the tricky chasm known as Imperfect Pass. Clear skies and hot sun caused snow to slide off the rocks above, and the chute was scoured every five minutes with slushy slides. And although Kyle did his best to place some gear, and find a way across, it was the wrong place to be.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhn6WBQ9Mz6WhHoibUxs03fRr1IPwMY8_QndGGLrSVMIxtEUT79Ca0BH-4nx4ZgtwTDSmVHftSb5YdejFqQHoqhhXs8MZjg7H6XiqcNerSURXj9qkp9gfY5Yud11tHOMqymFE9gugUg54/s1600/Imperfect+Pass.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhn6WBQ9Mz6WhHoibUxs03fRr1IPwMY8_QndGGLrSVMIxtEUT79Ca0BH-4nx4ZgtwTDSmVHftSb5YdejFqQHoqhhXs8MZjg7H6XiqcNerSURXj9qkp9gfY5Yud11tHOMqymFE9gugUg54/s400/Imperfect+Pass.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kyle tries some mixed moves at Imperfect Pass</td></tr>
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We pulled back, studied the map, and found a circuitous but much safer way down to the south. It was the same route I'd climbed up in 1973 when I first attempted the traverse.<br />
Once down off the steep terrain, we took a long break, and dried out our wet gear; no sense packing all that water weight. The black bags were working hard to melt snow for drinking water, and we retaped feet.<br />
It was day six, and the end was still a long ways off. We'd have to climb over Mineral Mountain in the dark, to make up for the time lost at Imperfect Pass.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-y1LiB_qghDz8h7xKu7J1bk2OuE_cp7CuG-RBCUQDl46vjl04tnF6a5lVPz-D4Yk57GOvlzoD-XfqAV8w4q6XNyT73Q9ECAtfDNuaLW8NbqW0JXk9aiy6438t8BP7DvBEOJQ1JG2N18o/s1600/Skiing+Toward+Mineral.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-y1LiB_qghDz8h7xKu7J1bk2OuE_cp7CuG-RBCUQDl46vjl04tnF6a5lVPz-D4Yk57GOvlzoD-XfqAV8w4q6XNyT73Q9ECAtfDNuaLW8NbqW0JXk9aiy6438t8BP7DvBEOJQ1JG2N18o/s640/Skiing+Toward+Mineral.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kyle gliding toward Mineral Mountain at sunset</td></tr>
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Kyle led off northwesterly along Easy Ridge. Just before sunset, we had beautiful corn skiing above a small lake just east of Mineral. With headlamp on he did a great job finding the way up the smooth firm slopes on Mineral's east side. We reached the summit at 10:30 at night, too tired to even shoot a flash photo of our only summit.<br />
Several hundred feet below the top on the west side, we stopped in the lee of a boulder and dug a snow fort. Dinner for me consisted of a packet of Miso soup. It was the night of April 4th; the night we were supposed to be back. We were still a full day from finishing, and maybe more.<br />
Day seven did not go according to plan. My idea of dropping down to Chilliwack Pass, was thwarted by steep unstable slopes. The incoming storm had warmed the air a lot, and slopes that were firm, turned to mush. We dropped off the ridge to the north, wound down through thick woods, and crossed the Chilliwack River where it was shallow.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJETJndKI4DmKxzs1SetuX-buqwaG8M0gDvGgqLFjx7r6vg6JmecLR89MbnwckZczeNUUFgt0YpAcAb_8WlihJkqYmfKG6gQOOvHQHcnkN4X6aHz6CQVnU-UmrBq6PslLUVOo1onOI-CQ/s1600/Chilliwack+River.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJETJndKI4DmKxzs1SetuX-buqwaG8M0gDvGgqLFjx7r6vg6JmecLR89MbnwckZczeNUUFgt0YpAcAb_8WlihJkqYmfKG6gQOOvHQHcnkN4X6aHz6CQVnU-UmrBq6PslLUVOo1onOI-CQ/s400/Chilliwack+River.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kyle after crossing the Chilliwack</td></tr>
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From the other side there was no way to identify the Chilliwack River Trail under all the snow. And on the southern slope below Copper Ridge deep ravines sliced the terrain. Our best bet was to skin straight up to the ridge, then follow it westward toward Hannegan Pass.<br />
We did, it was hard, and we were functioning on limited rations. Snow mixed with rain and wind, came out of the sky as we gained the ridgecrest at dark. A snow fort in amongst the hemlocks provided walls for our tarp, which we needed badly.<br />
Kyle was beginning to get cold, so I told him to crawl inside, and I'd finish tying out the guy lines. Dinner was two mugs each of hot tea with milk and sugar, and then to bed. Wet sox, damp boot liners, and gloves all went inside our bags.<br />
It was day eight and we HAD to get out. Coffee for breakfast, and cram wet stuff into packs. Running on a piece of chocolate, and a Cliff Shot fueled me on out the ridge, over Hannegan Pass and toward the road.<br />
Just as we started skiing the road a snow machine zoomed up (Kyle was out of sight ahead of me), and asked me if I was one of the overdue skiers. I said "yes" and the guy said; "do you want a ride?" and I replied; "Did my friend accept a ride? he said "yes."<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTMlIw0NXPA2FcxTJawfR0umyyVe3dbb53pvenGagczqiGXHHUi_Er5uR_Xve8E4dlYjLu2Kj7nD5gC77IwsPj7m-M7kglwDU4bdY2AiZeU08hzgoAYE-_Ntal6tNUvgEyt8dCaeiU9i0/s1600/Debris+On+Last+Day.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTMlIw0NXPA2FcxTJawfR0umyyVe3dbb53pvenGagczqiGXHHUi_Er5uR_Xve8E4dlYjLu2Kj7nD5gC77IwsPj7m-M7kglwDU4bdY2AiZeU08hzgoAYE-_Ntal6tNUvgEyt8dCaeiU9i0/s320/Debris+On+Last+Day.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Avalanche debris in Ruth Creek on day 8</td></tr>
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It was nice to know that our friends and relatives did care about us. I had no second thoughts about getting some help, the first time in forty one years of climbing and skiing in the Cascades.<br />
I have always hoped that my enthusiasm for the mountains will sometimes rub off on others, to perhaps inspire them to go out there. Or that my teaching climbing will pass on the many tricks, and techniques for being safe and having fun in the alpine.<br />
The knowledge I've gained from those who went before enabled Kyle and I to complete the fourth complete traverse of the Pickets on skis.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRDQcyw1-9LNuK_UvGzx2omOeO0e44K4qsQHV9kM_cKzFATdmUWbMpIOFx8RgJ4GQv63x0V-cXOeSGSC5-10aZO0iBozO9tetJMMbZzBb82FsVJGntwXFGmTBIfZwIt684agW8BJSbXAU/s1600/Leftovers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRDQcyw1-9LNuK_UvGzx2omOeO0e44K4qsQHV9kM_cKzFATdmUWbMpIOFx8RgJ4GQv63x0V-cXOeSGSC5-10aZO0iBozO9tetJMMbZzBb82FsVJGntwXFGmTBIfZwIt684agW8BJSbXAU/s400/Leftovers.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">End of trip leftovers</td></tr>
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And contrary to what people might have thought; we were not completely out of food. There was even a half cup of fuel in the stove. Maybe not enough to power a rover on the surface of Mars, but it could have kept me going on into day nine.<br />
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Alan Kearneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09797537795662546024noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620546845781999698.post-59419287382092218062012-12-16T11:19:00.001-08:002015-08-07T11:12:52.694-07:00Glaciers Are Beautiful<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-size: large;">Glaciers Are Beautiful</span></div>
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If you had a chance to glance at "LOCAL ICE: Photographing Cascade Glaciers.....", I hope you will enjoy this follow up piece about the surface features of glaciers and those within. It is a cold and wondrous world of textures, color and light. Having the skills of an alpinist and photographer has enabled me to safely capture the images you will see in this article. </div>
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From Alaska to the Alps, and the Cascades to Patagonia, glaciers mantle the peaks in a white and blue drapery of snow and ice. The riven ice fields are however not without hazards, and I have enjoyed scampering across them on foot or skis to climb a mountain, or complete an alpine traverse. From the 70 mile long (probably shorter now) Kahiltna Glacier below, to the ice rivers near Mount Blanc, and the tributary glaciers flowing off the South Patagonia Icefield; glaciers are truly amazing. To paraphrase photographer James Balog: "they are like an endangered species that is vanishing, and any photographic documentation may be the only way future peoples will know of their existence."</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_vjNR0N70gcSgpFlPl20lQeSs5yUm3BwHXn7l40wsn0yLBODrEEhf_q25zSDoYIjvRzVwxe-o-q-Urr815_azvo59huCmaURrYqxEoAip447zZvq8KteskiPJpMMujp2RP0i9BP-q4Mg/s1600/Crevasse+Pattern%252C+Kahiltna+Glacier%252C+AK%2528b%2526w%2529-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_vjNR0N70gcSgpFlPl20lQeSs5yUm3BwHXn7l40wsn0yLBODrEEhf_q25zSDoYIjvRzVwxe-o-q-Urr815_azvo59huCmaURrYqxEoAip447zZvq8KteskiPJpMMujp2RP0i9BP-q4Mg/s640/Crevasse+Pattern%252C+Kahiltna+Glacier%252C+AK%2528b%2526w%2529-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seracs on the Kahiltna Glacier, ALASKA</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_WeQj82y2wl-7FSXPXBEnH4dG4t00b2ff7z_JIkht09F5hNzZf85AYKeWNEBMGQlYU-nCtA-Ky-YKQPZPFNkUIJtWNFHlyk00TVy6i9mnwTZedcnH553_uJ8KYa8sK4LJ25dAd-W1Tc0/s1600/Small+Climbers+On+Mer+De+Glace.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_WeQj82y2wl-7FSXPXBEnH4dG4t00b2ff7z_JIkht09F5hNzZf85AYKeWNEBMGQlYU-nCtA-Ky-YKQPZPFNkUIJtWNFHlyk00TVy6i9mnwTZedcnH553_uJ8KYa8sK4LJ25dAd-W1Tc0/s640/Small+Climbers+On+Mer+De+Glace.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Climbers (lower right) traverse the Mer De Glace, Alps, FRANCE</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cerro Torre rises above seracs on the Torre Glacier, Patagonia, ARGENTINA </td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;"> </span>In this article I will illustrate three types of glaciers: the Icefield (covering less that 19,000 Square miles) which is a completely ice-covered area on land, with the ice flow radiating outward from the center (Patagonia), the Alpine Glacier that forms on the crests or slopes of mountains, and the Valley Glacier which is an Alpine Glacier that fills and flows down a valley, (Alaska, Alps and Cascades). There are Icefields in Alaska, but they are not represented here. </div>
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From where glaciers are born high on mountains, their flow down and outward, to their terminus I have selected photos from four decades of mountaineering trips. Let this primarily be a visual journey interspersed with some fascinating glacier trivia about the features we will see. </div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">Beginnings</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;"> </span>Whether a glacier begins as a small ice field that is perched on the side of a mountain, or in a basin at the peak's base, it provides an awesome spectacle to the weary climber clinging to a steep wall. The photograph below was taken in 1978 while completing a New Route up the Northwest Ridge of the Citadel in the Cathedral Spires of ALASKA.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Northwest Face of Kichatna Spire and the Cool Sac Glacier, ALASKA</td></tr>
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That same year friends and I climbed a New Route on Mount Hunter, also in ALASKA. On the climb we traversed beneath a tremendous wall of snow, its many layers representing storms of heavy snowfall. Here the Alpine Glacier is getting its start, hoping someday to join the great Kahiltna Glacier in the distance. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Climber traversing at 13,000 feet, Southwest Ridge Mount Hunter, AK</td></tr>
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Winter snowfall (video below) in the Cascades feeds our glaciers, and provides a source of fresh water.</div>
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The North Face of Mount Buckner below, gives rise to the Boston Glacier. At Buckner's base one can see a long horizontal crevasse at the head of the glacier and just below the rock face. This is called the Bergschrund: a large semipermanent crevasse at the head of a glacier accumulation zone which separates actively flowing ice from stagnant ice above.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Climber descends East Ridge of Forbidden Peak, Mt. Buckner in distance, WA</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Interior of Bergschrund at dawn, Cerro Stanhardt, Patagonia, ARGENTINA</td></tr>
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On Mount Rainier a curtain of icicles from the upper wall of a Bergschrund, frames a climber in the morning.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Climber, icicles and Bergschrund, Mount Rainier, WA</td></tr>
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From halfway up the mile high North Pillar of Fitz Roy in 1984, we could see the beginnings of many small Alpine Glaciers flowing off the peaks of Pier Giorgio, Cerro Pollone and Aguja Pollone. These smears of snow and ice rasp away at hard quartz monzonite rock, and with the help of the ferocious winds create a sea of amazing spires and razor-like ridges. </div>
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In the distance a portion of the South Patagonian Icefield is visible. This 6,500 square miles of ice is the largest of its kind outside of Greenland and Antarctica. It receives 25 feet of precipitation annually, mostly in the form of snow, and creates the fearsome winds and storms famous in Patagonia. The Icefield acts like a gigantic cooler to the moisture laden winds coming off the Pacific Ocean, that combined with the narrow land mass lying between two oceans in that region, spells difficulties for hikers and climbers.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Approaching storm, Patagonia, CHILE</td></tr>
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The Icefields of southern and northern Patagonia are in a state of recession (like most glaciers worldwide), with the exception of the 40 mile long Bruggen Glacier. The Bruggen Glacier is part of the smaller Northern Patagonian Icefield, and probably due to localized climate is advancing. In 1998 on a flight home, I was very lucky to have visibility and capture this photo of the Southern Patagonian Icefield showing the peaks of Fitz Roy and Cerro Torre in the top center of the image.</div>
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As the glacier gets into the rhythm of flowing the ice cracks and splits, giving rise to a plethora of natural sculptures. From the surface of the glacier to deep down, snow bridges, icefalls, seracs, cryoconites, glacier tables, dirt cones, moraines, ogives, and crevasses grace the moving ice.</div>
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Snowbridges (although not glacier ice) are especially tricky formations for the alpine climber to cross. They are the remains of winter snow that has blown across and covered a crevasse; eventually they melt and collapse as the summer progresses. It is usually preferable to skirt around these unpredictable snowy spans, unless there is no other way.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Climber crosses snowbridge on Coleman Glacier, Mount Baker, WA</td></tr>
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Icefalls are a steep reach of the glacier with a chaotic crevassed surface and rapid rate of flow. These jumbled masses of old snow changing into ice (firn) or dense glacier ice, are hazardous travel for climbers. Viewed from a safe distance however, they are spectacular. From the same return flight in 1998, I shot images of the Southern and Northern Patagonian Icefields. The Northern Icefield provided a classic example of an icefall flowing down off the small continental ice sheet.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Icefall coming off Northernn Patagonian Icefield, CHILE</td></tr>
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Within an icefall are seracs: blocks, towers, or pinnacles of ice or firn formed by the intersection of crevasses. Their sheer beauty is captivating, but playing in among them is somewhat like treading a mine field. It matters not whether it is hot or cold out, seracs can topple over anytime.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioOWLMKOEYsRxWfbkmlvZNNQPn4T_pmhKYKVaDcDxo8wi9HFBIfJXK8yBq3-JVmLpt9kY9ZcwCiojvZeeI3PvJTBVhSpKUrJaC9_lEbZwO5DcLE8MfOCCQQKuFZgZOxJp7pV86asEhlLA/s1600/Climber+On+Serac_Squak+Glacier.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioOWLMKOEYsRxWfbkmlvZNNQPn4T_pmhKYKVaDcDxo8wi9HFBIfJXK8yBq3-JVmLpt9kY9ZcwCiojvZeeI3PvJTBVhSpKUrJaC9_lEbZwO5DcLE8MfOCCQQKuFZgZOxJp7pV86asEhlLA/s640/Climber+On+Serac_Squak+Glacier.jpg" width="464" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Climber on serac, Squak Glacier, Mount Baker, WA</td></tr>
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On the surface of the glacier in late summer dust and morainal debris (including small rocks) are blown by the wind or transported by glacier flow and settle into depressions on the ice. Heat from the sun causes the darker material to melt deeper into the ice creating small melt holes (cryoconites). On the Coleman Glacier in June of 1996 there were many of these cryoconites visible.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigIZKYr0HzPsDWl4rdDIbEsHj3B93b8Ri8dRQR-jqScjNutob7uQozJZXqV_H6lYoFgoWdDVfapahFAtULQkVb0j1-ioo3U3pnjkzG_-MiIHt_yfpbR7tDJh4rX2xsodvD8reQXOAu8Q8/s1600/Cryoconites+On+Coleman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigIZKYr0HzPsDWl4rdDIbEsHj3B93b8Ri8dRQR-jqScjNutob7uQozJZXqV_H6lYoFgoWdDVfapahFAtULQkVb0j1-ioo3U3pnjkzG_-MiIHt_yfpbR7tDJh4rX2xsodvD8reQXOAu8Q8/s640/Cryoconites+On+Coleman.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Later that year in October I was on the Coleman Glacier again. It had been cold the night before, and each melt hole had a layer of ice over it. Using Skala Black and White slide film, I captured some interesting photographs.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ice-covered cryoconite, Coleman Glacier, Mount Baker, WA</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ice crystals in cryoconite, Coleman Glacier, Mount Baker, WA</td></tr>
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A rock that is left perched on an ice pillar by ablation of the pedestal and the surrounding unprotected ice is called a Glacier Table. The first time I encountered one of these peculiar phenomena was skiing up the 22 mile long Lacuna Glacier in the Alaska Range. It was April and the Glacier Table had a generous dollop of winter snow mantling it.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOFUwnTaD-aFM5DYS1DXFhpQ-Eb8Tb27OTo2rvwMH6quFj2-HUBupcHJL3cK-4IzDQ9RMZ5iMxGftdMTX6_Vv559rRMScy7ltnCexNxGxDdEXUuE_6QDYT7fXlD3XSK-qv-no8dTW5IS8/s1600/Glacier+Table_Lacuna+Gl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="338" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOFUwnTaD-aFM5DYS1DXFhpQ-Eb8Tb27OTo2rvwMH6quFj2-HUBupcHJL3cK-4IzDQ9RMZ5iMxGftdMTX6_Vv559rRMScy7ltnCexNxGxDdEXUuE_6QDYT7fXlD3XSK-qv-no8dTW5IS8/s640/Glacier+Table_Lacuna+Gl.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Years later while hiking up the Mer De Glace in the French Alps, my friend and I walked past a huge one enroute to do a climb. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Climber and Glacier Table, Mer De Glace, Alps, FRANCE</td></tr>
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Once the boulder slips off the ice pinnacle a Dirt Cone may form. Rain then washes dirt down from the surrounding area and shapes the cone. In 2008 the lower region of the Torre Glacier below Cerro Torre sprouted numerous Dirt Cones, and raging meltwater channels that were difficult to cross.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Climber and Dirt Cone, Torre Glacier, Patagonia, ARGENTINA</td></tr>
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As the glacier grinds away the bedrock and moves forward it creates Moraines; deposits of rock debris shaped by glacial flow and erosion. There are Lateral Moraines, like the one below of the backpacker hiking on it, and the Blue Glacier behind.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blue Glacier, Mount Olympus, WA</td></tr>
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Medial Moraines are long strips of debris on the glacier surface, usually parallel to the flow, which originate at the juncture of two glaciers. A classic example are the ones below of the Northern Patagonian Icefield, and the Torre Glacier below Fitz Roy.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Medial Moraine on the Northern Patagonian Icefield, CHILE</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fitz Roy rises above the Torre Glacier, Patagonia, ARGENTINA</td></tr>
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And as if our eyes are not tantalized enough, nature creates Ogives on the glacier. Especially visible in late summer or autumn, these arcuate bands or undulations of the surface of the glacier recur in a periodic pattern. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Climber above the Mer De Glace, Alps, FRANCE</td></tr>
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What often forms a barrier to glacier travel, is rarely more than 100 feet deep, and is sometimes unnerving to gaze into? A Crevasse: a large crack in the surface of a glacier produced by the stresses of glacier flow. With the exception of the very large continental ice sheets, Crevasses do not reach a depth of more than 100 feet, since below that depth the ice is plastic and not brittle. With a bit of mountaineering skill one can climb down into these cold fissures to get some cool views.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crevasse pattern on the Roosevelt Glacier, Mount Baker, WA</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDTiU5jObYnykBipAJuFrEq6eb0owEKvCR8To4Rk5ncRQmuu7BaqL4fTRoXZPHNZvKwkgt1HizXnbe8Hh6AKrAJj3-IyPwHWFLkKs6HOFyqCA798TKWK5o_uGA0CshHbNHv8T4vB-TKwM/s1600/Climber+In+Crevasse_Coleman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDTiU5jObYnykBipAJuFrEq6eb0owEKvCR8To4Rk5ncRQmuu7BaqL4fTRoXZPHNZvKwkgt1HizXnbe8Hh6AKrAJj3-IyPwHWFLkKs6HOFyqCA798TKWK5o_uGA0CshHbNHv8T4vB-TKwM/s640/Climber+In+Crevasse_Coleman.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Climber practices prusiking out of Crevasse on Coleman Glacier, WA</td></tr>
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Often in the summer after the seasonal snow has melted, it is fun to practice ice climbing in the shallower Crevasses. Below a climber bridges a small crevasse, while I got into the best position for a photograph.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Climber in Crevasse, Easton Glacier, WA</td></tr>
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And once down inside I couldn't help but notice how the evening light illuminated the icy walls </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crevasse wall, Easton Glacier, WA</td></tr>
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Of course on Mount Baker we do not have steel ladders going down to the glaciers; but it is a typical scene in the Alps where the alpine environment is altered and manicured to enable easier travel.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Climber descends to the Mer De Glace, Alps, FRANCE</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">End Zone</span></div>
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On the glacier's lower reaches below the firn line, is where much of the meltwater runs off the ice. The bare ice in late summer or early fall disgorges any ground up bedrock material, or any objects that have become interred in the ice river. Its like being at the county dump and watching bulldozers move around piles of garbage, but on a slower timescale. In August of 2004 while hiking on the Mer De Glace, I observed bits of broken glass on the ice surface: the remains of beer and wine bottles thrown down onto the glacier from a hut high above and many decades before.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beer and wine bottle fragments, Mer De Glace, Alps, FRANCE<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> The snout of a glacier is usually benign, with a tapering gentle slope of ice. But if the terminus ends above a drop off or cliff, chunks of ice may calve off and litter the ground below. In July of 2000 the Roosevelt Glacier was such a place; dangerous to hike through with the threat of falling ice from above.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Icefall debris at snout of Roosevelt Glacier, Mount Baker, WA</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> And in 2008 a lobe of the Marconi Glacier in Patagonia was spitting off chunks of ice, making travel difficult. We also found interesting terrain along the edge of meltwater canyons, of the dry glacier.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Climber below Marconi Glacier, Patagonia, AR</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZSqij6T7nJMFPoPdhoZyfAbPe8ItBdIOcV-Hq8VrPZLkLcfUBIjBrmR6jJz2QE-h_kiIzy6MUIrQCOUp5fhwwwsFJS9hsLinA8EVDOlzBy3giwLcLeeBQfOCSh82ZTds9hc7jvaaM4eU/s1600/Climber+%2526+Ice+Ravine%252CMarconi+Glacier.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZSqij6T7nJMFPoPdhoZyfAbPe8ItBdIOcV-Hq8VrPZLkLcfUBIjBrmR6jJz2QE-h_kiIzy6MUIrQCOUp5fhwwwsFJS9hsLinA8EVDOlzBy3giwLcLeeBQfOCSh82ZTds9hc7jvaaM4eU/s640/Climber+%2526+Ice+Ravine%252CMarconi+Glacier.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Climber and meltwater canyons, Marconi Glacier, Patagonia, ARGENTINA</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> Meltwater channels form on the lower surface of the glacier in summer, carrying water down in sinuous little streams and sometimes into moulins. These meltwater holes can go all the way down to </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">bedrock, but some don't. On the Easton Glacier this last autumn, I climbed 12 feet down into a small one just for a photo op of the meltwater channel in the bottom.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Moulin on Easton Glacier, Mount Baker, WA</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> With crampons and an ice axe I descended into the hole. Should have worn my rain jacket and didn't, and got very wet in the icy chasm. It was September and there was not much water pouring in; surely that was not the case back in July and August when it was hotter. Using a high ISO (sensitivity to light) setting on my Nikon, and a vibration reduction wide-angle lens, I was able to shoot these images hand-held without a tripod. Reminded me of the time portal in a Star Trek episode "City On the Edge Of Forever", where the voice from the machine said to Captain Kirk: "Many such journeys are possible, let me be your guide." As long as you know what you are doing that is!</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meltwater channel, Easton Glacier, Mount Baker, WA</td></tr>
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Finding pleasing colors (like the image above) at a glacier snout is difficult. It is generally a dirty region where the ice machine is constantly releasing and dumping morainal material. Like a pig in garbage, most receding glaciers have "their" snouts in piles of debris, or snuffling about nearby. <br />
Below the dark and dirty terminus of the Coleman Glacier is a typical scene in the Cascades. Once a bit of organic material accumulates, plants can get a start. Then a few vibrant wildflowers will colorize a drab palette.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu36VQdh_b2YZIWQ031Yh5k5eDSlkvUshXN3gYjVNHTG6Vl0d-GRmdvib-4Gt0q-5C0txcpgOLLmLmjYc6iOKhZ5NWSX-LESRz_lYvHk6yhZKUcDKytouNTD4hKnoMq91PZMnB8RS6MXk/s1600/Terminus+Of+Coleman+Gl_1997.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="432" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu36VQdh_b2YZIWQ031Yh5k5eDSlkvUshXN3gYjVNHTG6Vl0d-GRmdvib-4Gt0q-5C0txcpgOLLmLmjYc6iOKhZ5NWSX-LESRz_lYvHk6yhZKUcDKytouNTD4hKnoMq91PZMnB8RS6MXk/s640/Terminus+Of+Coleman+Gl_1997.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Terminus of Coleman Glacier, Mount Baker, WA<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fireweed blooms below Coleman Glacier and Mount Baker, WA<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> If the snout of a glacier is thick instead of thin, the primary meltwater stream underneath can form an ice tunnel and sometimes spectacular ice caves. I haven't found any yet on Mount Baker's glaciers, but I'm still searching. And if one climbs back into a large crevasse and climbers pass by, you can get an idea of how amazing glacier ice caves can be.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> Next summer I will continue my quest for unusual photographs of glaciers and their unique features.</span></div>
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Alan Kearneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09797537795662546024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620546845781999698.post-53187693518183988652012-02-13T14:05:00.001-08:002012-02-22T08:53:45.359-08:00Mount Sefrit's West Peak In Winter So close to home and yet so hard to get to; that describes Mt. Sefrit, a craggy peak just over 7,000 feet high and just north of Mt. Shuksan. Bordered by Ruth Creek to the north and the Nooksack River on the south, there is no trail up to Sefrit. Like so many North Cascade gems it requires off-trail hiking through forest and some brush (less of the latter in winter when its covered by snow). Several years ago I tried getting up to the main summit from Ruth Creek, but was thwarted by brush, rock slabs, and eventually a waterfall with a big dropoff below. Winter I decided might be the better time to try the peak.<br />
That same year in early May I climbed towards Sefrit's East Ridge on skis as part of a three day ski traverse over all the peaks on Ruth Ridge and ending at Ruth Mountain. It was hot that first day and the huge cornices on Sefrit's East Ridge didn't appear as though they would stay put; I chose to climb the peak another time.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb8pEtpkcSlWrsiO1lr8l-cqL15bZyiDZEY2NbDeuLdsAAXNqcOxlUuASoWa06EZqxAGmDIvCjxI_LXNUtO4F0PA_Z2DDr3kduqI6SukfNvbg1OHNTcoWTHIjbLaX77qV3peny8Lv0ALI/s1600/Springtime+Approach+To+Sefrit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb8pEtpkcSlWrsiO1lr8l-cqL15bZyiDZEY2NbDeuLdsAAXNqcOxlUuASoWa06EZqxAGmDIvCjxI_LXNUtO4F0PA_Z2DDr3kduqI6SukfNvbg1OHNTcoWTHIjbLaX77qV3peny8Lv0ALI/s640/Springtime+Approach+To+Sefrit.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Slopes above Ruth Creek leading to the Nachaktsen/Sefrit Saddle</td></tr>
</tbody></table> This winter we had a good spell of weather before Christmas, but somehow I didn't manage to get out much. Then in early February another dry spell came along and I made plans to get up Sefrit one way or another. From a summer scouting trip I discovered that a wooded spur rose above the confluence of Ruth Creek and the Nooksack River, and might be a good way to get up into the high country quickly and directly. And although Beckey does not describe this approach in his alpine guides; even he doesn't know everything. There were a few bits of orange flagging from hunters maybe or possibly other climbers? And as it was June, I ran into snow quickly and didn't have any skis or snowshoes with me.<br />
Gil Laas had off Saturday Feb. 4th, that is without family commitments, and we made plans for an early start and one day climb of the West Peak. I'd have liked to tried the main summit (about 300 feet higher and to the east), but the temps were looking very warm. I figured the recent foot or so of new snow would not remain on the slopes very long in the hot sun. Getting to the true summit would have involved traversing about a half mile of steep south-facing terrain. So we planned on the West Peak.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_1iJTtsOH9DHwHrHHHhsDxkZRvIjwkhswvKkCZajJN-a-dACtTzAXk4C7PF_t9ZbbMZiOKFWXEIidhKo7Lmi_7du7VnaX-ifBzDH_r15gDHiSUxP6bEp0vN_HWsUPXSVUABds3fwgKhI/s1600/Rest+Break+Sefrit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_1iJTtsOH9DHwHrHHHhsDxkZRvIjwkhswvKkCZajJN-a-dACtTzAXk4C7PF_t9ZbbMZiOKFWXEIidhKo7Lmi_7du7VnaX-ifBzDH_r15gDHiSUxP6bEp0vN_HWsUPXSVUABds3fwgKhI/s400/Rest+Break+Sefrit.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gil takes a break at 5600 feet on approach to the West Peak</td></tr>
</tbody></table> Once we had hiked about two and half miles of the Hannegan Road to the Nooksack Cirque trailhead, it was all uphill and in the woods. We chose snowshoes for this little winter adventure, cause I didn't think we could skin much of the spur and would be mostly carrying our boards. Gil charged on ahead breaking trail as I lauded his fine workmanship. Our path went straight up and finally popped out on the ridgecrest below the West Peak. The scenery was of course spectacular; Goat Mountain and Larrabee to the north, Shuksan to the south, and the perfect glistening white symmetry of Mount Baker to the southwest. A mass of tiny metallic specs blanketed the ski area parking lot, like so many alien devices planted there. How incongruous they seemed in comparison to the sparkling surroundings and craggy peaks of the backcountry. And yet it was best for all that they stayed there, and we were up here.<br />
I dumped my puffy coat and stove into a garbage bag and left it at 5600, where if we needed it, it would be there on the descent. No matter how fine the weather, I've found it prudent to carry these two items in the mountains in the winter. Things happen and weather changes. Gill stripped off even more clothes as we were now marching in the sun; we figured it got up to 60 degrees that day. On up the ridge we marched until the first rocks of the West Peaks Southwest Ridge.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCX3rjCyDmrvsOd88uivrnAx7Mr7UTcIt4YM5uYW5pXDGkqNmDtTYobpVrWZ4nFc_5HecChtCOtSmbqxTduSjn1vL5EKEZhLY-xvhwtxddfH8HZN6vNqM_Anfuos0NUJr4yXbJUydNw2w/s1600/Approaching+Sefrit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCX3rjCyDmrvsOd88uivrnAx7Mr7UTcIt4YM5uYW5pXDGkqNmDtTYobpVrWZ4nFc_5HecChtCOtSmbqxTduSjn1vL5EKEZhLY-xvhwtxddfH8HZN6vNqM_Anfuos0NUJr4yXbJUydNw2w/s640/Approaching+Sefrit.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gil nearing Sefrit's West Peak</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</tbody></table> At the first rocks we ditched snowshoes and ski poles, harnessed up, ate a snack and drank. It was hotter than ever and the trick was to try and skirt the top edges of the steep snowfields, staying close to the rock, and not trigger any slides. With me first (the senior avalanche poodle), one at a time we crossed the first 50 degree chute sinking into our thighs in places (no crampons today even though we brought them). A tiny clump of Mountain Hemlocks on an arete between snowfields felt like an island of safety. Then Gil took over and waded on up another slope to a second clump of trees; higher he could make out the ridgecrest running west to east between the summits. The way was clear, we just hoped the slopes wouldn't slide.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAwWD7Y8r243JH2C-OrDfB4QLsqip-XXHOL_4TKLv6Q1EyUoabdPFlJr6_sD3wAaPMm6Lzqz9ngYQQmnpFEz14g8FiyzUgjrEZHhhENArUN_oXWWH7PPeV5CKpjyEYWMy4lXDqZdFJR0c/s1600/Gil+Skirting+The+Rock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAwWD7Y8r243JH2C-OrDfB4QLsqip-XXHOL_4TKLv6Q1EyUoabdPFlJr6_sD3wAaPMm6Lzqz9ngYQQmnpFEz14g8FiyzUgjrEZHhhENArUN_oXWWH7PPeV5CKpjyEYWMy4lXDqZdFJR0c/s400/Gil+Skirting+The+Rock.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gil plows upward toward the ridgecrest</td></tr>
</tbody></table> We ditched our packs on the ridge, slung a boulder for a belay and uncoiled our 35meter 7mm Tendon rope. It looked as though one lead might just reach the summit. The pitch had some good bare rock where I place the occasional Stopper or sling, and patches of warm slippery snow over heather. And although there was a very slight breeze, Gil was belaying in his T-shirt. Some winter ascent! At least it looked like winter, as eastward the many jagged spires of Sefrit were cloaked in snow and rime from the last storm. In the distance Mt. Redoubt, Mt. Challenger and the Pickets were etched against a perfect blue sky.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_ZsBr__72XSrMMqJ9DY98LQzSi6SHQrWe6pC58SXjWn2e95RzwEG9ihuxd0LUKfNAKuzQhUUTbb-Ew8wey9SZxjEJ3E1FAZZOQUVtbxEFOGvKE3MfQANBW3xr_guSUe1CnnB-zF2DMjo/s1600/Gil+Near+Summit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_ZsBr__72XSrMMqJ9DY98LQzSi6SHQrWe6pC58SXjWn2e95RzwEG9ihuxd0LUKfNAKuzQhUUTbb-Ew8wey9SZxjEJ3E1FAZZOQUVtbxEFOGvKE3MfQANBW3xr_guSUe1CnnB-zF2DMjo/s640/Gil+Near+Summit.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gil close to the summit, Sefrit's main summit in the background</td></tr>
</tbody></table> As Gil reached the top to join me, the eastward slopes started sliding in the hot sun. It was a place not to be. We shouted with joy, took some photos, and slung a block for our first rappel. We had spent seven and a half hours getting up, and still had a long ways to descend before it got dark.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfRc9CwHXYl1NRW_WRRdg6AyN3YZ_IwAGkqtY3-54nLtialtPjBcku2x-IS8WYsa0v5kvv-oAxx_BunvFZzow7Z_InHdFLE7QiV0aANQCiFiwNGzTUnXpNkHeGwJqYZclXANn9mCZW8Z8/s1600/Gil+On+Summit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfRc9CwHXYl1NRW_WRRdg6AyN3YZ_IwAGkqtY3-54nLtialtPjBcku2x-IS8WYsa0v5kvv-oAxx_BunvFZzow7Z_InHdFLE7QiV0aANQCiFiwNGzTUnXpNkHeGwJqYZclXANn9mCZW8Z8/s400/Gil+On+Summit.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The summit of Sefrit's West Peak with Shuksan and Baker</td></tr>
</tbody></table> Gil paid homage to the great ones; Nooksack and Koma Kulshan. He thanked them for allowing us to trod on one of their lesser neighbor, and probably would have left behind some sort of human sacrifice if one were available ( a politician, tax collector or developer would have done nicely). Instead we left a piece of nylon and began our descent. Back down the even mushier snow, past the Hemlocks, deharnessed at the packs, snowshoes back on, and down the snowy ridge as the evening light washed over Shuksan's grand North Face and Nooksack Tower.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC_UFIonxZ3HRp8fP62yME3zIFMGFQtqdlqxutGZZ0-kJD3tdvEak6c4ZPGoVtqzdE23_xBDYvLrnE93U2VAmuJ8SG5J7WXju8sz57ieNX4tW3Y9VHaFFew6YNlLH0VnZGTZPfLB2uyNY/s1600/Shuksan+In+Evening.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC_UFIonxZ3HRp8fP62yME3zIFMGFQtqdlqxutGZZ0-kJD3tdvEak6c4ZPGoVtqzdE23_xBDYvLrnE93U2VAmuJ8SG5J7WXju8sz57ieNX4tW3Y9VHaFFew6YNlLH0VnZGTZPfLB2uyNY/s640/Shuksan+In+Evening.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shuksan in the evening</td></tr>
</tbody></table> It was the end to a fine winter day in the mountains, and I was reminded of the Scottish climber Tom Patey and one of his verses:<br />
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<span style="color: magenta;"><i>Let the pitons rattle as we go to battle.</i></span><br />
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<span style="color: magenta;"><i> Sound the ever ringing peal of steel on steel.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: magenta;"><i> </i></span><br />
<span style="color: magenta;"><i> </i></span><br />
<span style="color: magenta;"><i> Let the happy chink of the old snaplink.</i></span><br />
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<span style="color: magenta;"><i> Echo oer the mountains and the snow. </i></span>Alan Kearneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09797537795662546024noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620546845781999698.post-5960679942972506982011-10-18T09:58:00.001-07:002012-02-11T12:38:05.190-08:00Mount Berge, Southeast Buttress, New Route, July 2011<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span id="goog_713979008"><span id="goog_742768585"><a href="http://cascadeclimbers.com/">Mount Berge, Southeast Buttress, New Route, July 2011</a></span></span> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-size: small;">I had climbed Berge's long East Ridge in August of 2008 with Tana Beus and my old college buddy Chuck Sink. Yes that would be the Sink of the Sink/Gerber Route on Dragontail's North Face. When he and Eric Gerber put up the route on Dragontail, I had just arrived at WSU, and although strong and enthusiastic, I didn't know much about placing pro. I learned a lot from Chuck and Dave Neff, and we did a number of good climbs together, including the second ascent of Mount Stuart's Northwest Face in 1972. Here we are on the summit skinny, strong, and young; no marriages yet, hence no divorces, and none of our friends had been killed in the mountains. Time has a way of altering all that; and Chuck and I are fast friends to this day, getting together for climbing trips every couple of years (even though he lives in Anchorage, AK).</span></span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alan and Chuck Sink on summit Mount Stuart, 1972.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"> When we climbed Berge in 2008 it was obvious there were a couple of other unclimbed buttresses on the south side of the peak that was comprised of decent granite. Although I had never been to the top of Berge before 2008, I was familiar with the area. In 1967 at age 16, I joined a group on 25 Mazamas including my parents, for a week long outing at Buck Creek Pass. I was fascinated at being in the midst of a sea of mountains, and even got to the top of Helmet Butte and Napeequa Peak with the group. Twelve years later I led an Outward Bound patrol up and over the Louis Creek High Route to High Pass, and across the steep heather slopes of Mount Berge's west side.</span></span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTsEfPdLRN9olDgPSpGm1zk_XsvwU3kpXsSJEy7rtXWY19MUFOJyxz9HzczTTf0A7glNZXt1uJ4RBi7Q8VzD67n8PkXnCRF7SM4SZ_PwG6TkPqydzJvLwkMVTFltu6d-C8RB5LsWMyAII/s1600/Berge_125.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTsEfPdLRN9olDgPSpGm1zk_XsvwU3kpXsSJEy7rtXWY19MUFOJyxz9HzczTTf0A7glNZXt1uJ4RBi7Q8VzD67n8PkXnCRF7SM4SZ_PwG6TkPqydzJvLwkMVTFltu6d-C8RB5LsWMyAII/s640/Berge_125.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mount Berge from Buck Mountain, new route is far left buttress<span id="goog_1068835088"></span><span id="goog_1068835089"></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"> In 2008 we approached Berge from Buck Creek Pass and High Pass; virtually all good trail hiking, but a long ways. Then last summer when my friend Matt Demey from Denver showed up, we went in the same way with plans to exit the bushwhack back down to Buck Creek at the climb's end. With the heavy snowpackpack of 2010/2011 we encountered the white stuff over the trail before we reached Buck Creek Pass. And that was the last week of July! </span></span></span></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgigmE31r9I03RDpa3OkJbpqXgLUJrmckoJF5CUt8sq851hLckkQlGEKiCbAbAzpNDM2vLnsDixIPI8tZasoF_ylktr4fjhjSo1SopmAFdM_6B-X-kCIRUv4FvPYL9bjvflhaDnKnhSRQU/s1600/Berge_2932.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgigmE31r9I03RDpa3OkJbpqXgLUJrmckoJF5CUt8sq851hLckkQlGEKiCbAbAzpNDM2vLnsDixIPI8tZasoF_ylktr4fjhjSo1SopmAFdM_6B-X-kCIRUv4FvPYL9bjvflhaDnKnhSRQU/s320/Berge_2932.jpg" width="212" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"> After a grueling ten hours of marching, the last bit on snow, we found a dry patch of ground to camp on just before the sun went down. In the distance I could see Napeequa Peak that I climbed in 1967 with the Mazama group. We were there in August of that summer and wildflowers carpeted the slopes and meadows, mosquitoes whined in the air, and every night we sat around a roaring campfire; back when fires were still allowed.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Marsh Marigolds were the only blossoms popping up after the snowmelt where Matt and I placed our camp, and the tiny dentist drilling bloodsuckers were noticeably absent. We ate the largest dinner from our heavy packs, and contemplated tomorrow's route to High Pass and up around Berge. The route to High Pass followed a trail on the east side, but that was covered in snow. I was hoping that the crest would have some bare sections where a climber's path snaked along, saving us a lot of extra effort.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Luck was with us next morning as we discovered that the west side of the ridgecrest was bare, and we picked our way along a narrow path up and over several humps leading to the pass.</span></span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyagoYcHLLfKi6EPsrppvsLmQ8RsY7FFkB7wme4XjwK6O-QvMlv9NpyPC2GQrSoPF3ZJeYPZ-5ICRg6sdyI0l5RociPgrGA69tZISH6V8wNLPLi73sKRsdnTQfIAyjYgR3qFTvlL7zmGc/s1600/Berge_2968.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyagoYcHLLfKi6EPsrppvsLmQ8RsY7FFkB7wme4XjwK6O-QvMlv9NpyPC2GQrSoPF3ZJeYPZ-5ICRg6sdyI0l5RociPgrGA69tZISH6V8wNLPLi73sKRsdnTQfIAyjYgR3qFTvlL7zmGc/s640/Berge_2968.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Matt on approach to High Pass</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"> The remnants of cornices were draped about the ridge as the hot July sun created rivulets of meltwater; it was going to be a long day. Beyond High Pass we dropped into in snowy basin just north of Berge. It was time to refill water bladders ( a half gallon gone), and for Matt do some first aid on his heels. Rising south of the basin was the final climb of the day up snowslopes on Berge's Northwest shoulder, over the Southwest Ridge, and down into the basin where we planned to camp. It looked to be hot so I changed into shorts before the ascent. Westward rose Clark Mountain, the jagged summit of Tenpeak, and Glacier Peak's perfect snowy cone. The high alpine slopes slumbered white from winter, leaving only dark ridges of rock exposed. </span></span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuZg-5knaM5JM6w9Vk9AapT_g_NUQYTqDf2hS4RiFVqYuefA4agXg68ZyOmi6QLw62FSxFjTmLBTBkQF72ljRQIQGx5nfbUo4JDVf6F5jt6jQFdXE5CaUqpIKXfGzHWRwNTiYBee0lCPk/s1600/Berge_2994.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuZg-5knaM5JM6w9Vk9AapT_g_NUQYTqDf2hS4RiFVqYuefA4agXg68ZyOmi6QLw62FSxFjTmLBTBkQF72ljRQIQGx5nfbUo4JDVf6F5jt6jQFdXE5CaUqpIKXfGzHWRwNTiYBee0lCPk/s400/Berge_2994.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Matt crosses the shoulder of Mount Berge</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"> The slope turned out not as bad as it looked, and we were soon off the snow and hiking up heather and scree to the ridge overlooking the basin on the south.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"> It is always this point in the story of our heroes that they wish they were somewhere else, (enjoying happy hour in camp for instance), but the weight of a full rock rack, 60 meter rope, camping gear and six days of food created that bone- crushing load of reality. Any sign or porters, sherpas or helicopters was distinctly absent from the scene.</span></span></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span id="goog_1331067888"> Once we topped out on the ridgecrest, we could look down to the southeast and see the basin of our intended campsite. Bright green Larch trees dotted the otherwise snow-covered terrain. We hoped to find a patch of dry ground to pitch the tent on, and in this we were not disappointed.</span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Matt approaches the Southeast Buttress</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiVmtT33cbAKI0zZp1TGQjXAIOkh0MxBkxZg8buCc4TbU2d97oWY9M3j-dmgsi5RnrYN0hE54RycPO7T1rJSb02om0iXwtlMYXYElRboDdNrj-IXHojIhP2GoH-5CrPI030SU3zKwA_aA/s1600/Berge_3053.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span id="goog_1331067888"> Enroute to our camp we passed the unclimbed buttress, and it looked like good clean rock. And like the baby bear's bed that Goldilocks slept in, (not too hard or too soft) and in our case just right; not too steep and not too big. </span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span id="goog_1331067888"> Once settled in camp (on dry ground) we plunged into happy hour and fixing dinner. Not trusting to the wonderfully lightweight Nextex material of BD's Firstlight tent, we brought a big nylon tarp to put over it in case of rain. So much for modern technology in the Cascades. Odd isn't it that most of those single-walled tents are manufactured in Utah or California! But based on the weather prediction we'd brought the tarp, and it looked as though we were going to need it as high cirrus clouds moved in over Berge that evening.</span></span></span></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span id="goog_1331067888"> A sullen thick blanket of grey blotted out the sky on the following morning, but as Matt and I were itching to climb something, we racked up for a damp adventure. I figured if we could even get in a couple of pitches before it rained, we could fix our one rope and make it to the ground. And the first two leads looked blankish and wandering. </span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR28hUVdrr4Vrt8nB3z9AcIwO-VIh8NqDlyUXo49npXjGM5SoDzuYDIlRqENpDz_Nfh8WXMcF39mOY41fqX7nnmyN-zFWLaQ_3JGLH5A9KRnPG_KfczI6_m959EL-mCK-wBpFFemOuRo8/s1600/Berge_3008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR28hUVdrr4Vrt8nB3z9AcIwO-VIh8NqDlyUXo49npXjGM5SoDzuYDIlRqENpDz_Nfh8WXMcF39mOY41fqX7nnmyN-zFWLaQ_3JGLH5A9KRnPG_KfczI6_m959EL-mCK-wBpFFemOuRo8/s400/Berge_3008.jpg" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Matt cleans the first slabby pitch</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span id="goog_1331067888"> Small Stoppers, tiny cams and a knifeblade or two helped immensely on my first pitch up out of the moat. Regardless of how high we made it, it was a great feeling to be on the rock moving and out from under our backpacks. I worked my way up and right to a small stance and anchored in. A thick, dark, nasty cloud was shrouding Buck Mountain to the south, as veils of moisture began their descent into Buck Creek southeast of us.</span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span id="goog_1331067888"> Matt was having troubles extricating one of my small cams from under an overlap, and all I could think of was we were going to get soaked and nowhere on the route. But he pulled it, scurried up and we exchanged gear for his lead. "Where to?" he asked. "Well I think if you go up to that block, work left across that roof, and then up into that corner system, we can still reach the ground with our rope." I replied. Moisture was imminent. It looked as though he might beat it, but I was surely going to be cleaning the pitch in the rain. </span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span id="goog_1331067888"> At least we were not far above the ground, which is a much different feeling than being very high on a big </span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrTMnIrAfc8tdx0A3neahyCQw8WaLSruv8vh98Cfbetdk9gn-qbpr8DcPwrDOvOcgsfWzWOskI6oS6luOED4dqtTzXNdd37iP8cdMqxdG1ZHJyIO-ytcyfSb0BWjXROtn14_Y4J7PwW90/s1600/Berge_3027.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrTMnIrAfc8tdx0A3neahyCQw8WaLSruv8vh98Cfbetdk9gn-qbpr8DcPwrDOvOcgsfWzWOskI6oS6luOED4dqtTzXNdd37iP8cdMqxdG1ZHJyIO-ytcyfSb0BWjXROtn14_Y4J7PwW90/s400/Berge_3027.jpg" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Matt leads pitch two just before the storm</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span id="goog_1331067888">route when the weather goes bad. The uncertainty of getting </span><span id="goog_1331067888">off, turning blue from cold or making a fatal mistake because you get in a rush are always a possibility. On Berge we looked right across at our camp only minutes from the route's base.</span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span id="goog_1331067888"> There wasn't any hot porridge or feather beds in our temporary home in the woods, but plenty of dry clothing and makings for hot drinks. </span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span id="goog_1331067888"> Matt made quick work of pitch two as the clouds grew darker, and it began to sprinkle. A pin driven in here and there made the lead a lot safer, as I became anxious wondering whether I'd be cleaning his pitch in a waterfall.</span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span id="goog_1331067888"> It was a close thing when I reached his tiny belay ledge just as the rain poured down hard. Our single 60 meter rope just reached the ground, so we fixed it, donned raingear, rapped off, and headed for camp. The hope was this little storm would pass on through tomorrow, and we could reascend our rope and finish the climb. In camp there were hot drinks, books, and a cozy tent, but we hadn't brought enough food to hang for more than a couple of days.</span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYWC6YE_Pt_LJ0xi_Tzcd6bgugMpCHDLM7JC1KrL5sZSAlifc9KG5VNSUl50jE0euAFgDdjvV9AUPvZidEGUwHlVMPN5rWDYLVMITiga22GeIFn9C1ee6l4Ajk1Si4EO_9HZ6LlMCtwKw/s1600/Berge_3034.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYWC6YE_Pt_LJ0xi_Tzcd6bgugMpCHDLM7JC1KrL5sZSAlifc9KG5VNSUl50jE0euAFgDdjvV9AUPvZidEGUwHlVMPN5rWDYLVMITiga22GeIFn9C1ee6l4Ajk1Si4EO_9HZ6LlMCtwKw/s320/Berge_3034.jpg" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting ready to rap in the rain</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Camp in the Larch forest</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span id="goog_1331067888"> It rained hard that night and well into the next day. Around 1 pm patches of blue began to appear through ragged rents in the clouds and the south-facing light-colored granite was drying quickly. Still, we were unsure if this was a stable bit of clearing or not. By 2 pm it was looking even better, and although it was late to try and finish the climb, I figured we only had three steep harder pitches left to go to reach the easy slopes above leading to the summit. I said to Matt "hell with it, let's go finish this thing off before it gets dark." We were over at the base of the route by 3 pm, and at the top of yesterday's rope by 3:30. The sun was out as I led up good cracks and grooves. We each carried rain jackets, water, headlamps and a couple of candy bars.</span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOM5a8FmdGQffCE9aIUeLT7BrBDiOoTivGOPwbJUEotyywqnvGFrBS0fPcIqoVpTqTtxW0UNo6FBTnTwZj7-_byJw_lCo00slwYjDJRCV3GmrZZAup70HEHpkrzAJHULh3Wq5OkLR1uzQ/s1600/Berge_3230.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOM5a8FmdGQffCE9aIUeLT7BrBDiOoTivGOPwbJUEotyywqnvGFrBS0fPcIqoVpTqTtxW0UNo6FBTnTwZj7-_byJw_lCo00slwYjDJRCV3GmrZZAup70HEHpkrzAJHULh3Wq5OkLR1uzQ/s640/Berge_3230.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tossing off a loose rock on pitch 4</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span id="goog_1331067888"> New routes sometimes require some tidying up, and on Matt' s next pitch he sent a few stones earthward on the otherwise perfect rock. The climbing was not difficult, and we were following a set of crack systems that looked as though they would carry us to the top left side of the buttress. As the sun began its slow descent in the sky, a cool breeze brushed the wall. In one more pitch I scrabbled past a lichen-covered overhanging slot, and on up to low-angle terrain leading to the summit. </span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Matt scrambling toward the summit</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1mVeEZ6aLB-8X48x-CZ2E70f_DQntUA5ZgqZuyN5wS_f2rnYrYZWRG-xWht90zeKcDwGH2dX1dIKgN8Gt3nXLc5SEYRRi0oXqwO7OX_rzl75IW5Mml861RL8ExCa0ihYv71QS8jjP-20/s1600/Berge_3147.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1mVeEZ6aLB-8X48x-CZ2E70f_DQntUA5ZgqZuyN5wS_f2rnYrYZWRG-xWht90zeKcDwGH2dX1dIKgN8Gt3nXLc5SEYRRi0oXqwO7OX_rzl75IW5Mml861RL8ExCa0ihYv71QS8jjP-20/s320/Berge_3147.jpg" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Matt near the summit</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span id="goog_1331067888"> In less than an hour we were below the final summit rocks, </span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span id="goog_1331067888">where we dumped our gear, and scurried toward the top. I had descended this side three years before after climbing the East Ridge, and knew it was easy. Waves of fog rolled in and out, but high above the sky was blue. </span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span id="goog_1331067888"> To the south the gigantic North Face of Buck Mountain loomed above the valley. And although Cal Folsom and Mark Moore climbed it in 1976, they warned others away saying the face was; "extremely loose and dangerous." I had scrambled to the top up the backside two summers before, and at one point I peeked over the north side to try and see where they might have climbed up. For over 2,000 feet black schist dominated the scene; rubble on every ledge, teetering chunks of unstable rock, and the paucity of cracks gave the wall a creepy feel. This was no hidden prize that climbers coveted, it was something to avoid.</span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span id="goog_1331067888"> Matt and I had a couple hours of light left, and as the descent to camp was easy, we knew we'd make it back before dark. He was excited about reaching the top since he had never done a new route before, and he liked the idea that we picked our own line, and each pitch was an adventure.</span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnCT-kEYJZKhO_fEu3DxTS4w-rUymY4eYD3TisnVSerPYT-nR16uJjzah58MY9uuNlBcvFmWkFI1rlOKjmXOgS6bc7cQmk_kf_XfJTUGnbuPhMiNYIUa3TVQs3JsJuglRg8BIxQTLIzEs/s1600/Berge_3156.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnCT-kEYJZKhO_fEu3DxTS4w-rUymY4eYD3TisnVSerPYT-nR16uJjzah58MY9uuNlBcvFmWkFI1rlOKjmXOgS6bc7cQmk_kf_XfJTUGnbuPhMiNYIUa3TVQs3JsJuglRg8BIxQTLIzEs/s400/Berge_3156.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alan and Matt on the summit of Mt. Berge</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span id="goog_1331067888"> In no time we were back in camp, under a star-filled sky, clutching a hot drink and scheming up more new lines to climb in this range of 1100 peaks. On the summit my friend from Colorado had gazed about and then finally said; "I had no idea there were so many mountains out here!" </span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKPJc5tbtnhTcbmxmmtDEUb3Zz4xRtPz00uli3s-QhsNid-e3oba47ZKogOqf7OJfV6Qmb_X8oSIIc8sjgKaQboXpeemZyGFZIokW9YKWbZbbjndny4KLj2-uoztvENcvsV33MG3J9oTk/s1600/Berge_80.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKPJc5tbtnhTcbmxmmtDEUb3Zz4xRtPz00uli3s-QhsNid-e3oba47ZKogOqf7OJfV6Qmb_X8oSIIc8sjgKaQboXpeemZyGFZIokW9YKWbZbbjndny4KLj2-uoztvENcvsV33MG3J9oTk/s640/Berge_80.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Night sky and Mt. Berge</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span id="goog_1331067888"> </span></span></span> </span></span>Alan Kearneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09797537795662546024noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620546845781999698.post-83369396451267128102011-06-08T14:45:00.000-07:002011-06-10T10:00:43.179-07:00Mount Saint Helens Photo Seminar<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNnLm95-Wu0uqVWhsEHpvexxF54HCF7Y8HRbtFwqVUuoOpV2WiP8JWJd7aCHDNElQ99vqfnYbHT21SUCurxHwVw-sctPGH29octymwguuxy6opSf7YRETeYIQlp99Y157PXsZQ9Ys99WI/s400/St._Helens_Evening_H.jpg" width="400" /><a href="http://mshinstitute.org/index.php/programs/field_seminar/photography_in_the_blast_zone_with_alan_kearney/">http://mshinstitute.org/index.php/programs/field_seminar/photography_in_the_blast_zone_with_alan_kearney/</a></div>Join me at Mount Saint Helens this July 9th for a fun day in the outdoors with your camera. The seminar is $50 and sponsored by the Mount Saint Helens Institute (they handle sign ups). We'll cover some of the main features of your cameras, whether they are point and shoots or full on SLR's with interchangeable lenses. With a few basics under our belts (exposure, white balance, shooting modes and color) we'll move on to lighting and composition. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgklPGuz3xCPPi-z1LPfOyL2Qi6Efhinjx07bCCCIocp0MvW906eMhty0dZQM9sS8MzXkgK5-2J-3-5N3kq7mE6TuhZgHdRcNNJ8vqe2ASVUfThBo4KhEwo5dKKflX7FLXDQt9N8QYCnAc/s1600/Hiker_Johnston_Ridge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgklPGuz3xCPPi-z1LPfOyL2Qi6Efhinjx07bCCCIocp0MvW906eMhty0dZQM9sS8MzXkgK5-2J-3-5N3kq7mE6TuhZgHdRcNNJ8vqe2ASVUfThBo4KhEwo5dKKflX7FLXDQt9N8QYCnAc/s320/Hiker_Johnston_Ridge.jpg" width="209" /></a></div>Including people in your landscapes provides the viewer with a sense of scale; an individual dwarfed by the immensity of nature. I have a fair bit of knowledge in this area, as I've written and published photos of outdoor sports for three decades. We can model for each other, and experiment with your ideas.<br />
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I will give students a list of simple assignments to shoot while hiking about. And as there are a plethora of subjects to point ones camera at, we'll discuss closeup work and abstracting elements out of the landscape. Later I'll give students feedback on their photo assignments.<br />
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Because the 1980 volcanic event that occurred was so significant, the often asked question arises "Where were you on that day?" I was living in Portland and fast asleep, after driving through the night from Wyoming. My parents however were not. As Ham radio volunteers they witnessed the May 18 eruption from 8 miles to the west, and dad got some amazing photos that day.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizDTaaLDG7eDLAn_O52_fMucHDSV3O6X9YseXFDwaDFfla_pAw7RzdYx9WjxNkpE9-7OS3vpRJz6lod-x1seIEBM_3effjoAe39lKzchWvWUhQevh_FgsXR54lyd0AU5WqUOc1loJFEFU/s1600/Eruption_Panorama_Lo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizDTaaLDG7eDLAn_O52_fMucHDSV3O6X9YseXFDwaDFfla_pAw7RzdYx9WjxNkpE9-7OS3vpRJz6lod-x1seIEBM_3effjoAe39lKzchWvWUhQevh_FgsXR54lyd0AU5WqUOc1loJFEFU/s640/Eruption_Panorama_Lo.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> <br />
Add to the fact that we as a family had been climbing to the top and skiing off the mountain, ever since my mom's first climb in 1945. It has become a special mountain for us, as I'm sure it will for you. Below is the link to the Mount Saint Helens Institute, and the photo seminar if you want to sign up.<br />
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<a href="http://mshinstitute.org/index.php/programs/field_seminar/photography_the_blast_zone_with_alan_kearney/">http://mshinstitute.org/index.php/programs/field seminar/photography in the blast zone with alan kearney/</a><br />
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Hope to see you there.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRs9SIf3xzGv7XKtUUgo_jC4-qHL1Hp0jhsJY9-Q4-vNTMNSW8LcbL7dRQdwt58iASnzD9BEGQEpo72-GNbJ-C3qYLmnt72cUT08scRyQ-Ws8d2IyM8Z1WzGDGwO-cI2Xvx4vaHtOIx3E/s1600/Lupine+%2526+Paintbrush.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRs9SIf3xzGv7XKtUUgo_jC4-qHL1Hp0jhsJY9-Q4-vNTMNSW8LcbL7dRQdwt58iASnzD9BEGQEpo72-GNbJ-C3qYLmnt72cUT08scRyQ-Ws8d2IyM8Z1WzGDGwO-cI2Xvx4vaHtOIx3E/s320/Lupine+%2526+Paintbrush.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Alan Kearney Alan Kearneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09797537795662546024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620546845781999698.post-5906086092446150402011-04-19T12:55:00.000-07:002011-04-24T01:23:29.658-07:00Skiing Matier<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGbl3TjctJVG6r7cp9yCKFrKi0cQ_4pW208tuQqiIddu-KgPQKPQKc_RpLAIN4xr4Y2wqame6AeSHrFCZhnShQW5PblnkbV3FuPbIOLfM4Nuu1i7r5JqjFEJYFSGOi52FLJ19vZbqRx0s/s1600/Skiing_Vantage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGbl3TjctJVG6r7cp9yCKFrKi0cQ_4pW208tuQqiIddu-KgPQKPQKc_RpLAIN4xr4Y2wqame6AeSHrFCZhnShQW5PblnkbV3FuPbIOLfM4Nuu1i7r5JqjFEJYFSGOi52FLJ19vZbqRx0s/s320/Skiing_Vantage.jpg" width="320" /></a></div> Gregg Cronn and I had a great two days skiing up near Pemberton. The great snowpack this year guarantees skiing on into the summer. And if you must go climbing later, at least the bivy ledges will have snowpatches for water.<br />
For the complete story go to<span style="color: blue;">: <a href="http://alankearneyphotography.blogspot.com/2011/04/skiing-matier-and-vantage.html">Skiing Matier And Vantage: http://alankearneyphotography.blogspot.com/Skiing Matier</a></span>Alan Kearneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09797537795662546024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620546845781999698.post-5057138070378189762011-04-11T13:17:00.000-07:002011-04-11T13:17:50.846-07:00Skiing Matier And Vantage Here is the first of many SOS (seniors out skiing) episodes, although Gregg Cronn at 51 doesn't quite qualify for the age bracket; myself at 59.97 years of age does. It was "Kronnhoffers" (my nickname for Gregg when we were guides) spring break from teaching, and he wanted to ski the peaks near Joffre and stay in Keith's Hut. Especially since the temps here in Washington were supposed to be warm, we were hoping for spring powder in the far north. Any chance to get in some foreign travel without buying a plane ticket is fun.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqvSQZDLabnnAdkDNSUbum_XMEh4jkpyvz4ptOsAVBIRocGhNXK6wbCc59w19RAbHv7kY6LHxf_WhKzln6d7fxeYXctSL8lX03XxDOuC_fXrN6IUmZ-bbVWP_GV9Y9pMnAHIEyxnAKfjM/s1600/Keiths-Hut.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqvSQZDLabnnAdkDNSUbum_XMEh4jkpyvz4ptOsAVBIRocGhNXK6wbCc59w19RAbHv7kY6LHxf_WhKzln6d7fxeYXctSL8lX03XxDOuC_fXrN6IUmZ-bbVWP_GV9Y9pMnAHIEyxnAKfjM/s640/Keiths-Hut.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> I had been to the hut 19 years before and enjoyed bony skiing, cloudy weather, and a ultra crowded cabin on New Year's eve. Yuck! Gregg and I chose a non-holiday, mid-week, and a good weather outlook for our two day outing. At the Canadian border a rotund young man garnished with weapons, asked me if we were carrying any. I said no. He said: "What will you do if you encounter a bear?" I said: "It's winter and the bears are all asleep." He replied: "It's not winter anymore!" I could see I was in for a lot of tedious spadework if I had to educate him about mountain geography, elevation, spring snowpack, and meteorology. I turned to Gregg and rolled my eyes, while the policeman tapped our passport numbers into his machine, and then handed them back with a frown.<br />
That night we slept at the trailhead in the back of my truck. Up at 6 am for a quick brew of brown hot stuff, into chilly ski boots, and skinning toward the hut by 7am. With hardly a cloud in the sky the mountains were etched in sharp relief in the dawn light. Along the trail the many bear dens had "Do Not Disturb Until Late Spring" signs out. Let it be said that my four and a half years spent getting a wildlife biology degree was not wasted.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy-Tn_oyw_xVM2V_HO4anB2fdZblXtU2GhqpJTpjvufhmmpkmqkQrs9u5jXLT8RPLQeaoorqxMOTQAZ-knmOvXmEqxy284tqfYQVqjpSHA757mUJEjFWAMNgxG169AWc7lo8zCDaOfjS4/s1600/Gregg_Keiths_Hut.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy-Tn_oyw_xVM2V_HO4anB2fdZblXtU2GhqpJTpjvufhmmpkmqkQrs9u5jXLT8RPLQeaoorqxMOTQAZ-knmOvXmEqxy284tqfYQVqjpSHA757mUJEjFWAMNgxG169AWc7lo8zCDaOfjS4/s640/Gregg_Keiths_Hut.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> In three hours we reached the hut (the junior member of our party made in two and a half), dumped our sleeping gear, melted some snow for drinks, and headed upward. A number of youthful skiers passed me on the climb up, and I would have broken their legs if I coulda caught up with them.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8RSDRxHT6fuFiqXVM5nSJUTqmhSY5WEDf3xa4ydfZ1x-jfEynA1sijGhgjnpNxFp0gK2WYQAV3y1Iumzo4uafyLJY-TIF_rDL50ev9mHQlD1hOsbYGqjyH4c2LpXMp0Q_5bHOW098haQ/s1600/Skier_Matier_Morning.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8RSDRxHT6fuFiqXVM5nSJUTqmhSY5WEDf3xa4ydfZ1x-jfEynA1sijGhgjnpNxFp0gK2WYQAV3y1Iumzo4uafyLJY-TIF_rDL50ev9mHQlD1hOsbYGqjyH4c2LpXMp0Q_5bHOW098haQ/s400/Skier_Matier_Morning.jpg" width="400" /> </a></div> But it was beautiful day in the mountains, and time for me to get in shape. The reason bears are skinny after a long winter is that they don't watch videos, eat buttered popcorn, and drink beer all the time.<br />
The antlike shapes of Bellinghamsters and indigenous skiers were far above on the Anniversary Glacier. A wintry wind swirled about as I stopped for a chocolate bar at the Matier/Joffre Saddle. A bit higher Gregg was waving his ski pole and beckoning me on.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibxADstNycfj-4VtYB8nWaonGTETniwaBdjdyT0OZA9ZJMVT5jP95oAeXNKKMIM9xsJqVWtfevi5uTXxY70voOIB7IoY7FzdZKa9e_FO2EUCTpqQo_YNnekQPVGKhNiZmCJgELxHQEUvo/s1600/Skier_Sun_Matier.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibxADstNycfj-4VtYB8nWaonGTETniwaBdjdyT0OZA9ZJMVT5jP95oAeXNKKMIM9xsJqVWtfevi5uTXxY70voOIB7IoY7FzdZKa9e_FO2EUCTpqQo_YNnekQPVGKhNiZmCJgELxHQEUvo/s640/Skier_Sun_Matier.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> Higher yet and gasping for air, I ditched my pack and skis, and cramponed toward the summit. Why was everyone else carrying their skis to the top? The skiing on the upper slope didn't look too good to me; lumpy, icy and wind blown.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiddIlXyhjR9I26XI6OrhWNaOUPqct9EKJcUjPS2AFXmK55rRKWA7vDpmbSeCHvIXLosH85Plr6XZ_vhCXali0NAvfbeFI4J9V0eJ557YnEnLqrhMZwtlhiUihyGY25Y9qwMWy2FffKwoo/s1600/Climber_Summit_Matier.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiddIlXyhjR9I26XI6OrhWNaOUPqct9EKJcUjPS2AFXmK55rRKWA7vDpmbSeCHvIXLosH85Plr6XZ_vhCXali0NAvfbeFI4J9V0eJ557YnEnLqrhMZwtlhiUihyGY25Y9qwMWy2FffKwoo/s640/Climber_Summit_Matier.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkOpeh-3ep4ezAytsUAsLM_cb2ZQF_rJ0da9-1fE7FedKxtpXTBDFZr2XwGrq2D3NyKIxm5Ts4XSzRMdVc18R62oJXy49p0z4Jl7VpdKBHXx2d3OfXNthBT_J9LtVD6BauhGeZMyRQQWw/s1600/Skiing_Off_Matier.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkOpeh-3ep4ezAytsUAsLM_cb2ZQF_rJ0da9-1fE7FedKxtpXTBDFZr2XwGrq2D3NyKIxm5Ts4XSzRMdVc18R62oJXy49p0z4Jl7VpdKBHXx2d3OfXNthBT_J9LtVD6BauhGeZMyRQQWw/s400/Skiing_Off_Matier.jpg" width="265" /></a></div> I suppose I ought to have looked at a map or confirmed with Gregg about the descent plan. All of those skiers ahead of me had dropped off the southwest side to a col, and were skiing a fabulous powdery slope down to the glacier. They carved graceful turns in the fluffy white stuff, yodeled and generally behaved as though they were having fun.<br />
But it was tough to act like a curmudgeon on such a spectacular day in the high alpine. The horizon bristled with peaks in every direction; some covered with ice, some with snow, many with snow and ice.<br />
And far below the bears slumbered in their icy dens dreaming of juicy ptarmigans, ground squirrels, anthills, huckleberries, and plump border guards. Facing a perilous descent without a weapon was unnerving.<br />
Once back at my skis I tightened my boots, clicked into downhill mode, sucked some water, and headed downward into the white wonderland. Turning was effortless in the April snow, and Gregg was having so much fun, he climbed back up to meet me for a second run.<br />
Below the saddle we encountered even lighter six-sided ice crystals covering the glacier.<br />
Back in the hut the day's participants (eight others) were commenting on the quality of the snow, and gabbing about this piece of gear or that. Huts are nice unless you just want to go to sleep. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPn7c4QPMCZgnN_PV12XL__r0jYIwmSJmoEjLnYsw1MPJu6d-gL_VHu6io6anxCUv4CPv2nPftcbNHuvFq1NqZ56_lHXcvS-JFUKrMIRmNskOB0-ivIACmgl1Lut2ttNqw9DC6N-ryN4U/s1600/Gregg_Skis_Matier.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPn7c4QPMCZgnN_PV12XL__r0jYIwmSJmoEjLnYsw1MPJu6d-gL_VHu6io6anxCUv4CPv2nPftcbNHuvFq1NqZ56_lHXcvS-JFUKrMIRmNskOB0-ivIACmgl1Lut2ttNqw9DC6N-ryN4U/s320/Gregg_Skis_Matier.jpg" width="212" /></a></div> Gregg was up early the next morning, and soon we were skinning up towards Matier, making a left turn and heading east toward Vantage Peak, and hopefully untracked powder. The day was going to be warmer than the previous, and soon we were stripping off clothing, only to put it back on when the breeze picked up later.<br />
We followed the West Ridge up Vantage, glad to have ski crampons for the lumps of rime and windblown hard snow. Traversing around the south side we were able to skin right to the top. To the west tiny dark shapes climbed toward Matier, while far below us a second group of black dots headed southeast toward a sea of mountains.<br />
We had left axe, harness and crampons behind, and with a lighter pack I didn't feel nearly so breathless as the day before. It reminded me of skiing out of Mount Hunter on a hot day in May of 1978.<br />
Three of us crossed a low pass in the Peters Hills and gazed down into the snowbound valley to the south. There about a half mile away, were three grizzlies <i>Ursus arctos, </i>a sow and two yearlings. Out of their den, wide awake and HUNGRY, the three carnivores were digging out ground squirrels from beneath the snow. They scented us and took off westward up and over a 1,000 foot slope; we were lucky.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtDYLrrqUjopqLh7Wf3MN4jbkR63gUEbOne9FUF1o_jMot48AAj80iS8kfh9Q2V8w-RUn9qA8jS3sUieGmRkCRp7vmN1RXUdAwFEXUYSn2o9NUQW1Hw_jNJSEgUQjEcTyEjyn72URthXE/s1600/Grizzlies_AK.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="419" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtDYLrrqUjopqLh7Wf3MN4jbkR63gUEbOne9FUF1o_jMot48AAj80iS8kfh9Q2V8w-RUn9qA8jS3sUieGmRkCRp7vmN1RXUdAwFEXUYSn2o9NUQW1Hw_jNJSEgUQjEcTyEjyn72URthXE/s640/Grizzlies_AK.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> Had they wanted us, there is little we could have done. No trees to climb, and no weapons. Their vision is poor, and they smelled something strange and left. No bears on Vantage, just a beautiful morning, with the mountains and hardy trees mantled in winter's whiteness.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkGTXpMQcZr-7IJWvQ-lVqozVhyphenhyphenIEDSS9HDsq7P98SOfcwKzU2mTNwsllOtJTwlNap7iFnVKk_8maABxJU9zmjTgvbkozQZ9UyZzhPR-rdHCCei8Oh23qd2JKocnWhX39WI_eL8283S6A/s1600/Skier_Morning_Approach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkGTXpMQcZr-7IJWvQ-lVqozVhyphenhyphenIEDSS9HDsq7P98SOfcwKzU2mTNwsllOtJTwlNap7iFnVKk_8maABxJU9zmjTgvbkozQZ9UyZzhPR-rdHCCei8Oh23qd2JKocnWhX39WI_eL8283S6A/s640/Skier_Morning_Approach.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyp895eW_-VcXzjMInmsSxYcT_TWK86hTvqc1KjbRGO07poFHPmBqVLIcPVA3GFJNJjvzk6bB9-iBzPvy6pF0RcDhQvT7HyNIBp8_qvKrzSzNBhYUytA8ihRzWOJ3MTCGn6tbvGpIZMeU/s1600/Rimed_Tree_Vantage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyp895eW_-VcXzjMInmsSxYcT_TWK86hTvqc1KjbRGO07poFHPmBqVLIcPVA3GFJNJjvzk6bB9-iBzPvy6pF0RcDhQvT7HyNIBp8_qvKrzSzNBhYUytA8ihRzWOJ3MTCGn6tbvGpIZMeU/s640/Rimed_Tree_Vantage.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> From the top of the peak it was necessary to sideslip down the West Ridge a bit to avoid the summit cornice, and gain access to a fantastic untracked slope. Although a chopper had dropped some skiers the day before below Matier's summit, hence they skied the glacier and partway up Vantage's northwest side, below us the northeast bowl was pristine.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0LkbYknJlovinYZ7PrLt5nWcP7ORCCJjokh1zJctE5noFP8ZHQU858gC8R9aiG9r8BsLon-ZA6oTF0ANYTgap3DM4fKm4nBAtjA9l8gEocQH6RMaZ12NbFD2eugzBRtkCDR7wNZ2OzeQ/s1600/Skier_NE_Bowl_Vantage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="404" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0LkbYknJlovinYZ7PrLt5nWcP7ORCCJjokh1zJctE5noFP8ZHQU858gC8R9aiG9r8BsLon-ZA6oTF0ANYTgap3DM4fKm4nBAtjA9l8gEocQH6RMaZ12NbFD2eugzBRtkCDR7wNZ2OzeQ/s640/Skier_NE_Bowl_Vantage.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> This was some serious fun!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVqjvcKpbcrVpJeuv2EKqTGAmpln1UXPNP_LIT-qvVNu9j7JYUrP4QAvuYszGPz5AOENFtmUcjM8XvbhdLMXlIKYElou0M4M-YxVSKSAlq1j6myaC8oeSEo-GTm-dQDwNz9x6MJYK9UX0/s1600/Gregg_Drops_Vantage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVqjvcKpbcrVpJeuv2EKqTGAmpln1UXPNP_LIT-qvVNu9j7JYUrP4QAvuYszGPz5AOENFtmUcjM8XvbhdLMXlIKYElou0M4M-YxVSKSAlq1j6myaC8oeSEo-GTm-dQDwNz9x6MJYK9UX0/s640/Gregg_Drops_Vantage.jpg" width="424" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHqQC4zHazhN6SZuoNXiDo_scqe7TiUci3-QdXhGHgSSmQxQPJN9s3hXhW31UaIn_4Uj96L8cuXXspq1QyqoSDKDEIFxZwsCKUek0DSwppMzKKLaRlzcQZjU4o03akeVPlFLTh_2OdK4Q/s1600/NE_Bowl_Vantage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHqQC4zHazhN6SZuoNXiDo_scqe7TiUci3-QdXhGHgSSmQxQPJN9s3hXhW31UaIn_4Uj96L8cuXXspq1QyqoSDKDEIFxZwsCKUek0DSwppMzKKLaRlzcQZjU4o03akeVPlFLTh_2OdK4Q/s640/NE_Bowl_Vantage.jpg" width="426" /></a></div> I yelled at Gregg to make a few more turns for my camera, but he just kept going on down into the valley. It was a good climb back up, but we had to gloat over our first turns high on the slope.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihObq6LXqJcZGy0puuYn9zCKjVwosUxb-xZ7ZOoavgwLguinOxjhO8QUrOx3zZB4FQxZc4ji32Doonq-AgrSyNwwV1BplrMJdWqlL_6OBjoonLgqSb9pnGuOxz_X9XjjFWnEK4_sQztOo/s1600/Gregg_Tracks_Above.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihObq6LXqJcZGy0puuYn9zCKjVwosUxb-xZ7ZOoavgwLguinOxjhO8QUrOx3zZB4FQxZc4ji32Doonq-AgrSyNwwV1BplrMJdWqlL_6OBjoonLgqSb9pnGuOxz_X9XjjFWnEK4_sQztOo/s640/Gregg_Tracks_Above.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> Once up and across the North Ridge, we deskinned and skied the northwest slope. Gregg sideslipped the upper part of a narrow couloir, and then carved out the bottom, while I went down the west side and joined him in the cirque below.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibwHwTVpuxo-U8psFqs1_zra9uxVVl50bnDYRnU6oQBatR9uUvXVJJf8KbjYlU9ANiWZAFYT-iCvcAyzFSAbvhytzCOZPQlzLd7jEQHxPXo2qOX-jGnNFcgOCEL7WMXaWb-3jfjvr_m9M/s1600/Skiing_NW_Face_Vantage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibwHwTVpuxo-U8psFqs1_zra9uxVVl50bnDYRnU6oQBatR9uUvXVJJf8KbjYlU9ANiWZAFYT-iCvcAyzFSAbvhytzCOZPQlzLd7jEQHxPXo2qOX-jGnNFcgOCEL7WMXaWb-3jfjvr_m9M/s640/Skiing_NW_Face_Vantage.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> There was nothing left to do but a bunch more powder turns to the bottom, skin back up to the hut, pack up, and ski out. Nobody got hurt, or eaten by bears. There were just tired muscles and fine memories of a perfect trip.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBTI87S4rzbr7pa9tRyQSmP7h2RvjJW2k_bldjRIZRXNvEzw3j8atWp-EqzQbFWBjs7P8zkaGxf6V8mwn8IQC2xjpXFSFnvpXk1bM8BPEObMt2X3X6E01jkH_mgY6PELwmYWVtZSnBpfw/s1600/Matier_Joffre_Dawn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBTI87S4rzbr7pa9tRyQSmP7h2RvjJW2k_bldjRIZRXNvEzw3j8atWp-EqzQbFWBjs7P8zkaGxf6V8mwn8IQC2xjpXFSFnvpXk1bM8BPEObMt2X3X6E01jkH_mgY6PELwmYWVtZSnBpfw/s640/Matier_Joffre_Dawn.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> <br />
<span style="color: magenta;"><i>On the craggy peaks high overhead.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: magenta;"><i> Dawn light is finally shed.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: magenta;"><i> </i></span><br />
<span style="color: magenta;"><i> Where ridges snake to the mountain's maw.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: magenta;"><i> A weary skier stands in awe.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: magenta;"><i> </i></span><br />
<span style="color: magenta;"><i> And in the heavens high in the sky.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: magenta;"><i> I dream of the sunrise and wings to fly. </i></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPn7c4QPMCZgnN_PV12XL__r0jYIwmSJmoEjLnYsw1MPJu6d-gL_VHu6io6anxCUv4CPv2nPftcbNHuvFq1NqZ56_lHXcvS-JFUKrMIRmNskOB0-ivIACmgl1Lut2ttNqw9DC6N-ryN4U/s1600/Gregg_Skis_Matier.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPn7c4QPMCZgnN_PV12XL__r0jYIwmSJmoEjLnYsw1MPJu6d-gL_VHu6io6anxCUv4CPv2nPftcbNHuvFq1NqZ56_lHXcvS-JFUKrMIRmNskOB0-ivIACmgl1Lut2ttNqw9DC6N-ryN4U/s1600/Gregg_Skis_Matier.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> </a></div>Alan Kearneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09797537795662546024noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620546845781999698.post-58266152280888006552011-03-30T18:03:00.000-07:002011-04-01T17:29:50.159-07:00Inspiration Peak, Pickets, Northeast Buttress, New Route 1996.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="419" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxD46iO6wytr0s2G5ak1MWlemfUed98UKfZthLYUA9qa66WLMwQjyCKYYLqDj-KExzlMXGKlvtdLyRaFcihZL5cyJBOwoiAXQx4gVk2mfLjZvItS_NXMzFBMub6A0C_XCOD-g7VOYbpZE/s640/Southern-Pickets.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="640" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Twin summits of Inspiration Peak in center of photo, from Northern Pickets</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<span style="background-color: #666666;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #666666;"></span></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxD46iO6wytr0s2G5ak1MWlemfUed98UKfZthLYUA9qa66WLMwQjyCKYYLqDj-KExzlMXGKlvtdLyRaFcihZL5cyJBOwoiAXQx4gVk2mfLjZvItS_NXMzFBMub6A0C_XCOD-g7VOYbpZE/s1600/Southern-Pickets.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: #666666;"></span><span style="background-color: #cc0000;"></span><span style="background-color: #45818e;"></span><span style="background-color: #999999;"></span><span style="background-color: white;"></span></a></div> Since I never reported this route anywhere after Dana Hagin and I climbed it in July of 1996, I felt it was time I wrote it up. Especially since there has been activity on Inspiration's north side since 1977 when Alex Bertulis and the Russians climbed the North Face.<br />
The rock in the Pickets is primarily Skagit Gneiss, and although cracks are not numerous, nor the rock as solid as granite, the soaring glacial-sculpted faces more than compensate. Added to that the unpredictable weather, transient state of the small disappearing glaciers, and brushy approaches make for a true North Cascades experience.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIcdxaXfam5uS8qbksp8lkEUBA-uDb2PnO4dnbzNVnRptQp9UmnX9DSJUy93cJ90zl1hRk_CfGBBFJja5gQqUXEDxgdZAaa6_ZWZ7pU1i-hZ3S2a9lGtawyNQJICkCBg73bUSgwwvMBEw/s1600/Approach-to-Inspiration.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIcdxaXfam5uS8qbksp8lkEUBA-uDb2PnO4dnbzNVnRptQp9UmnX9DSJUy93cJ90zl1hRk_CfGBBFJja5gQqUXEDxgdZAaa6_ZWZ7pU1i-hZ3S2a9lGtawyNQJICkCBg73bUSgwwvMBEw/s640/Approach-to-Inspiration.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dana Hagin on the Goodell Creek approach with Mount Triumph in the distance</td></tr>
</tbody></table> I had scoped Inspiration's northeast side two years before when climbing the North Face of West McMillan with Bill Pilling. Bill and I not only had a good look at the face, but figured the easiest way to it was to rap and downclimb from the Inspiration/McMillan saddle to gain a ledge that would allow one to traverse westward over to the Northeast Buttress.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf83_0lI00fjGyYfjb-0WseF0z8-3b2lWxz1DW7QGpjhqm3ho__lwCK2_NpEIu8IwP3AxmaDOl3kFplImNlw_-AIUs0IlWluRRlHIlbVTrY3zoFPbmQXxwn_dzdW4NLZ8LJM-VX9BOG3w/s1600/Inspiration-%2526-Terror-from-East.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="420" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf83_0lI00fjGyYfjb-0WseF0z8-3b2lWxz1DW7QGpjhqm3ho__lwCK2_NpEIu8IwP3AxmaDOl3kFplImNlw_-AIUs0IlWluRRlHIlbVTrY3zoFPbmQXxwn_dzdW4NLZ8LJM-VX9BOG3w/s640/Inspiration-%2526-Terror-from-East.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dawn light on Northeast Buttress Inspiration Peak and Mount Terror, from West McMillan</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6xdmGeJETTOSmLQEQmiIHv3J423j7fy6I5uDfvJOMELnV2TxEySs960HKfXdakWENAWypCY8J1r2OivwDu1vYAvSfQpEghqvwzpD7dXph-hj5Jcamigd8y94EF2zUKZSCbjv5WqYcuZU/s1600/Climber-Raps-to-Inspiration.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6xdmGeJETTOSmLQEQmiIHv3J423j7fy6I5uDfvJOMELnV2TxEySs960HKfXdakWENAWypCY8J1r2OivwDu1vYAvSfQpEghqvwzpD7dXph-hj5Jcamigd8y94EF2zUKZSCbjv5WqYcuZU/s640/Climber-Raps-to-Inspiration.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bill Pilling descends to McMillan's North Face, Inspiration's NE Buttress is line between light & dark rock</td></tr>
</tbody></table> Then in July two years later, Dana and I trudged in the same way to Terror Creek basin in beautiful sunny weather. Pickets maxim: "Even if there isn't a cloud in the sky, there's sure to be fog or rain the next day." Its as though the craggy spires of the Twin Needles, Himmlehorn, Degenhardt, Pyramid, and the McMillans reach up with giant invisible hands and squeeze the moisture right out of the clouds. Ask anyone who's been there.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2mls7iPRLLDvBksmGDxNrwbd8m1dTGFl4U9hhu13GP5chwI2R2gNJel7orfFmoeUtnmmL8TC8suwmU0jxCGYj-Yr27ZKIF8cDhdhmUor6CiF-N2MlhyphenhyphendB_BzF0MQ7RvLiBZ8B0XSJnTs/s1600/Fog-In-Stetattle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2mls7iPRLLDvBksmGDxNrwbd8m1dTGFl4U9hhu13GP5chwI2R2gNJel7orfFmoeUtnmmL8TC8suwmU0jxCGYj-Yr27ZKIF8cDhdhmUor6CiF-N2MlhyphenhyphendB_BzF0MQ7RvLiBZ8B0XSJnTs/s640/Fog-In-Stetattle.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fog enters Stetattle Creek, the harbinger of more approaching moisture</td></tr>
</tbody></table> An early start on day three allowed Dana and I to reach saddle in time to witness morning light<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdWsGTO1oLL4yXnLtd61hbk2Xgq8yYmKebry7sUm1t8qobV_Wcsx-mz0ibchSBNHucMWiwVWCahu3l4EnAqa0CsJZR7Xxg7mLqdzyaE7n9zQXS7KJLiUIjrVnuqdZWaU7zZfmR09e3DXg/s1600/Inspiration-and-Terror.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdWsGTO1oLL4yXnLtd61hbk2Xgq8yYmKebry7sUm1t8qobV_Wcsx-mz0ibchSBNHucMWiwVWCahu3l4EnAqa0CsJZR7Xxg7mLqdzyaE7n9zQXS7KJLiUIjrVnuqdZWaU7zZfmR09e3DXg/s320/Inspiration-and-Terror.jpg" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inspiration and Terror in morning</td></tr>
</tbody></table>paint the walls, ridges, buttress, gullies, gendarmes and pinnacles. Indeed nowhere is there such a plethora of mountain features as in this dense collection of crags.<br />
Naturally it is not Chamonix granite (which I can verify is pretty solid stuff). Nor is there a tram to the top. Both of which guarantee a crowd free experience, and adventure alpinism of the highest order. Particularly fond of these little mountains myself, I would return with Dana in 2003 to climb McMillan's North Buttress, and in 2008 put up the DNB on the same peak with Erik Johnson. <br />
As Dana readjusted the pack loaded with bivy gear for one night, clothing, water and snacks, I tossed the ropes down for our first of several long rappels. Sporadic small stones peppered the slopes, but nothing big. The ledge Bill and I spotted in 94 was snowy but not difficult, and by noon or so we were lacing up rock shoes on the buttress, some 500 feet above the glacier.<br />
With boots stowed in the one pack, the follower became the cleanup man and workhorse. One can try various options on the bigger steep climbs on how to get the gear up the route. The leader and follower can both carry packs, but ultimately the leader gets bogged down on harder bits and has to haul. And as the Pickets are not granite domes close to the road, crampons and axes are a necessity. When leading I prefer to be unencumbered, and a tiny pack with water bladder and windshirt is the most I'll carry. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8bGfY9dhFE8kFpor_DFRIpFaIcItS91IRpKXfMvUSpobTT9mJYo33UIxNEnJ3A4lGXmjIf5KmT3FJBxfKrZVPrVrMR3WcMUq81S4rGl8uGqEMU97JUXohKIRzD4L38I_50L3hfWpZQJE/s1600/Climber-On-Inspiration.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8bGfY9dhFE8kFpor_DFRIpFaIcItS91IRpKXfMvUSpobTT9mJYo33UIxNEnJ3A4lGXmjIf5KmT3FJBxfKrZVPrVrMR3WcMUq81S4rGl8uGqEMU97JUXohKIRzD4L38I_50L3hfWpZQJE/s640/Climber-On-Inspiration.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dana leading on the exposed buttress</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div> The climbing was not too hard being of generally the face variety with some cracks here and there. I got one "house of cards" pitch that comprised large flakes stacked one on top another. The idea was to not knock any on Dana or my lead rope. In places there were streaks and swirls of quartz in the rock that added an artistic appearance to the wall. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhputeP8naluUqrPOb4H3u6XdQjy1_0KQdzIcNhdt8IqJERY9dgtSWHa5AGJtL4dha0svWyY7WAF3wUDF9JdMG1aXOw2POit5IvCz3eh0gyAT0B7sbaUSqy-tMWRBKoilmfHXuf_mGjakM/s1600/Dana-Hagin-On-Inspiration.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhputeP8naluUqrPOb4H3u6XdQjy1_0KQdzIcNhdt8IqJERY9dgtSWHa5AGJtL4dha0svWyY7WAF3wUDF9JdMG1aXOw2POit5IvCz3eh0gyAT0B7sbaUSqy-tMWRBKoilmfHXuf_mGjakM/s640/Dana-Hagin-On-Inspiration.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finding just the right piece of gear</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5IiJx4UB2vjj62R8Yyxb7sMfJ15OTVa6438A30TrAKfEW25cFHFMBNKfpMtyhOcsdCVmJpuUTW7jrJ1ZhRI2yq3bGXyVzgOpY6VLCHCYx9_8tGRpe27qviG-3emf5jJLfGRynJpaDVi0/s1600/Bivy-on-Inspiration.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5IiJx4UB2vjj62R8Yyxb7sMfJ15OTVa6438A30TrAKfEW25cFHFMBNKfpMtyhOcsdCVmJpuUTW7jrJ1ZhRI2yq3bGXyVzgOpY6VLCHCYx9_8tGRpe27qviG-3emf5jJLfGRynJpaDVi0/s320/Bivy-on-Inspiration.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dana at the perfect bivy</td></tr>
</tbody></table> On up the buttress we swung leads until the sun began its decline. No decent ledge offered itself until we peeked around the corner onto the North Face. There just off the buttress crest was perfect ledge for two, with a snowpatch for water.<br />
Now that guy in California that makes the pricy clothing once said this about bivouacking: "If you carry bivy gear you will bivouac." With a few exceptions, it has been my experience that on really big routes you will bivouac anyway, but without ANY bivy gear you will be quite uncomfortable.<br />
There is much to be said for a mug of HOT coffee or cocoa in the early morning on the chilly northern alpine face of a big mountain. Take your pick. We had a double bivy sac that protected both of us, and each had an insulated jacket. I got 5 hours of sleep, which is a lot for a bivy. And even the most amateur photographer with a point and shoot cannot fail to capture the grandeur of the mountains in morning and evening; all of which is lost to the one day climber frantic to reach the car without switching on the headlamp.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8ugB-AhtAdN4gwaWvkddw0Lwva8gX50w-fzKZnFT4WtXF4DNtW0_S98BNsuVqUNmtQUxo37fB6mlI1xrC07OYx67B1nmlBvM7KC0ymK0kteHvBWsCSAQg-yfbuPP3us-MI8b04cfXIPs/s400/Dana_Upper-Butt.-Inspiration.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="266" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aiming for the cracks up higher</td></tr>
</tbody></table><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8ugB-AhtAdN4gwaWvkddw0Lwva8gX50w-fzKZnFT4WtXF4DNtW0_S98BNsuVqUNmtQUxo37fB6mlI1xrC07OYx67B1nmlBvM7KC0ymK0kteHvBWsCSAQg-yfbuPP3us-MI8b04cfXIPs/s1600/Dana_Upper-Butt.-Inspiration.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a> <br />
On day two Dana led off up broken rock toward cleaner cracks high above. Some pesky clouds had materialized overnight, but the climbing was exhilarating and exposed. The pack was lighter, the rock was still dry, the troubles and confusion of the world were somewhere far away, and we were having fun.<br />
In places the gneissic rock had razor sharp edges from flakes and chunks that had fallen away; one had to be careful with the rope. And there was always the uncertainty of finding the raps and descent off the top in a whiteout. But I had climbed the South Face in 1991, so at least had an inkling of the way down.<br />
Up and up we climbed to where our new route on the buttress coincided with the East Ridge; not much evidence of traffic on it though. And then the fog moved in shrouding everything in a damp opaque curtain of white. Find a crack, get some gear in, keep going, hope it doesn't start raining. No idea where the summit was inside that fathomless cloud. If only we could have seen something; McMillan Cirque, Fury, Luna, Picket Pass, each other, anything!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp-iMEddNwQcMxSPCzU39z-3l-mUhV2Q8BXTM4KQC6McCQvJVV6DdJVYTulKQKArian1ixkN0kTiNvdptwyuA5y5-2bqUnfSuHgG9GjK-TzIzwmy7khx23uXHZibB22zUBS9zppstq-DE/s1600/Dana-Following-On-Inspiration.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp-iMEddNwQcMxSPCzU39z-3l-mUhV2Q8BXTM4KQC6McCQvJVV6DdJVYTulKQKArian1ixkN0kTiNvdptwyuA5y5-2bqUnfSuHgG9GjK-TzIzwmy7khx23uXHZibB22zUBS9zppstq-DE/s640/Dana-Following-On-Inspiration.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The fog closed in</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOlLOoZsWX44GHu0rWzLIOHQl1PNMC-XdHDQPFOkIMw2RCWyhzRaKtcSPP6Iyt745wUcKmhDv73yk4bt12rprgDhHtErOlKAc1vh2aFbrOb2w-mjuEGmfyBYDPavww5leuS7SxaRiOjkM/s1600/Inspiration-Peak-%2526-Stars.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOlLOoZsWX44GHu0rWzLIOHQl1PNMC-XdHDQPFOkIMw2RCWyhzRaKtcSPP6Iyt745wUcKmhDv73yk4bt12rprgDhHtErOlKAc1vh2aFbrOb2w-mjuEGmfyBYDPavww5leuS7SxaRiOjkM/s400/Inspiration-Peak-%2526-Stars.jpg" width="261" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Star trails over inspiration and Terror</td></tr>
</tbody></table> And although there was no view from the top, partway down the West Ridge the fog burned away and the sun came out. Terror Creek basin and a sea of peaks southward dotted the horizon. <br />
Back in camp we sprawled on the slabs in the sun, cooked a fine dinner, and that night once again watched the stars fill the sky over the black imposing silhouette of Inspiration Peak.<br />
<span style="color: blue;"><i> </i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: blue;"><i> There is a place where we will all go.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: blue;"><i> But to tell the truth, where it is, I don't know.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: blue;"><i> If I had any say about it,</i></span><br />
<span style="color: blue;"><i> It would be on top of a craggy summit.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: blue;"><i> Where wind and snow, would blow my bits,</i></span><br />
<span style="color: blue;"><i> Down into those icy pits.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: blue;"><i> And there the glacier would munch and grind,</i></span><br />
<span style="color: blue;"><i> And of me, there would be nothing left behind. </i></span> <br />
<br />
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Alan Kearneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09797537795662546024noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620546845781999698.post-30175035498874566992011-03-27T11:16:00.000-07:002011-03-27T11:16:27.880-07:00Skiing Wells CreekOn a sunny March day last week I joined mountain goat biologist Tana Beus for an adventurous day in the Mount Baker backcountry. Her mission was to check on a remote wildlife camera and place another one in hopes of getting photographs of some of our elusive Northwest animals. The plan involved skiing up over Herman Saddle, across the Chain Lakes and then descend into the headwaters of Wells Creek. It was an adventurous and physical day in the mountains.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuKzopHYdqhOfLAMO_nWqLyGikA_T1zk__qdhxcB-SXE7obvanl5kF3tatbfhViHgw1qfO9Pn1tEDxUvH77dzQQnfthDiuVpYEE8XYpmN03d2gFApl_AAsy9Ex_9IZDnZPclE1sgmV5f8/s1600/Skier-And-Mt.-Baker.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuKzopHYdqhOfLAMO_nWqLyGikA_T1zk__qdhxcB-SXE7obvanl5kF3tatbfhViHgw1qfO9Pn1tEDxUvH77dzQQnfthDiuVpYEE8XYpmN03d2gFApl_AAsy9Ex_9IZDnZPclE1sgmV5f8/s320/Skier-And-Mt.-Baker.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>For the full blog go to <b>alankearney.com</b> and "Adventure Skiing In Wells Creek".Alan Kearneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09797537795662546024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620546845781999698.post-77477024496421403802011-03-24T13:09:00.000-07:002011-04-11T23:15:59.963-07:00Adventure Skiing In Wells Creek<a href="http://www.turns-all-year.com/">http://www.turns-all-year.com/</a><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Tana Beus (mountain goat biologist) wanted to put in another remote wildlife camera in the Mount Baker area. She had placed one camera beyond Herman Saddle, so we needed to check the memory card and batteries on that one, then descend 2500 feet into Wells Creek and install a second camera. I looked at the map and noticed that the contour lines were awfully close together in upper Wells Creek, and as usual these past years the low elevation snowpack was not very good. A good snowpack is handy thing for hiding a myriad of pesky obstacles that make traveling with skis difficult.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieco1ybft1TW0VczLBzREN50J6H0rVfbqD68EU9oWgIQaIS3eObnztZ2OSR7BgEp0faqbVb05E8lHsqqUjZ18_-U41q2Rhg0NB_cP5eUToHSGMXmc85cfNY-yygvIXly9aNOwwHp4iJIc/s1600/Skier+%2526+Sun_Mt.+Herman_064.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieco1ybft1TW0VczLBzREN50J6H0rVfbqD68EU9oWgIQaIS3eObnztZ2OSR7BgEp0faqbVb05E8lHsqqUjZ18_-U41q2Rhg0NB_cP5eUToHSGMXmc85cfNY-yygvIXly9aNOwwHp4iJIc/s320/Skier+%2526+Sun_Mt.+Herman_064.jpg" width="212" /></a></div>Once over Herman Saddle with Shuksan glowing brilliant on a clear spring day, we descended to the Chain Lakes and beyond. The snow was heavy and crusted a bit in the sun, but nice powder still on the shaded north slopes.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiadWceiCqvURWo70fdTAFd0ghrPe5YFeA4uhOynbm-QEqhgpSHAMlbllseQKBDmvGRijDyNKFCos4amWr99dkW1uSWLh_MwfFMvGuR2romwC9T3Y3n6IhN9jtQUCiQO2G39riO6UnlehQ/s1600/Skier+and+Mount+Baker_82.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiadWceiCqvURWo70fdTAFd0ghrPe5YFeA4uhOynbm-QEqhgpSHAMlbllseQKBDmvGRijDyNKFCos4amWr99dkW1uSWLh_MwfFMvGuR2romwC9T3Y3n6IhN9jtQUCiQO2G39riO6UnlehQ/s640/Skier+and+Mount+Baker_82.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Using a Nikon D90 and a 12 - 24 Nikkor zoom in high speed burst mode, with the bracketing turned off; captured Tana's turns leaving Herman Saddle. No one else out skiing on a March Wednesday.<br />
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Once we made adjustments to the first remote camera, we headed westerly looking for a narrow drainage leading down into Wells Creek. Weaving in and out of trees, sideslipping steep hard terrain, dropping off overhanging snow blobs and carving an actual turn or two deposited us above the creek.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1KF5N_rscKIom5xEy41_kprLfxfSL1qzkWMJpmQetDbHEaTP6fkb5qrOg6b05yLf5O7Yi8GvEmzBaDpYfCZ4TljlMpkuKpnTkAqrs6345h-YEQv2bEQPayF5jZcejCUKqz7Wo3ZOZt2o/s1600/Descent+Into+Wells+Creek_93.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1KF5N_rscKIom5xEy41_kprLfxfSL1qzkWMJpmQetDbHEaTP6fkb5qrOg6b05yLf5O7Yi8GvEmzBaDpYfCZ4TljlMpkuKpnTkAqrs6345h-YEQv2bEQPayF5jZcejCUKqz7Wo3ZOZt2o/s320/Descent+Into+Wells+Creek_93.jpg" width="212" /></a></div>Up to this point we could kinda see a route down, but traversing the ultra steep slopes of upper wells creek to reach the road looked grim. Snow mushrooms draping boulders about to collapse, small nasty side streams running just beneath the snow and a tight mesh of wiry little hemlocks and firs barred progress.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwE7Xly5lAsSubr7vuZq8psbrHNN9l6kHMD4F_gNPb0DS85aY5tfibsAtx6TyNyvCnbG_6DuUA7DEOdc62wVpsL5h-qLNE12wE1dyjfA4kIQDnUoZcOqtK5fsElJmHOqeqetWcyr4CRZ0/s1600/Tedious+Travel+In+Wells+Creek_21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwE7Xly5lAsSubr7vuZq8psbrHNN9l6kHMD4F_gNPb0DS85aY5tfibsAtx6TyNyvCnbG_6DuUA7DEOdc62wVpsL5h-qLNE12wE1dyjfA4kIQDnUoZcOqtK5fsElJmHOqeqetWcyr4CRZ0/s320/Tedious+Travel+In+Wells+Creek_21.jpg" width="212" /></a></div>Two miles and four hours later we did reach the road. Until this trip I hadn't fallen while skiing all winter, but there was no predicting what the skis would do in the sunny mush with many cavities, pockets and lurking hazards beneath. Photos not included in this little tale (because there aren't any thankfully) are Alan upside down in a soggy mossy trickle of a stream festooned with leafless Devil's Club. The spiny stems sprouting up through the thin snow like miniature maces wielded by equally small warriors. At 5 pm the road at last, where even Tana (youth though she is) flopped on her pack for a sunny breather. The toe of Lasiocarpa Ridge and the distant northeast wall of Mount Baker provided us a view better than dense dark woods. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1QUUJflmu4TvI-8plCWm5YHkFKpFdkDoKE1qq6MKyyGBlE1yzuaPbj1a7bM4k_znMFxMVlTYZb5ou1Y82SOivIuFfcejLNyMS1dcpUFzqstdFQX1pm3p2dSKfxn4arEOF8FzreyvNiFs/s1600/Wells+Creek+Road+At+last_06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1QUUJflmu4TvI-8plCWm5YHkFKpFdkDoKE1qq6MKyyGBlE1yzuaPbj1a7bM4k_znMFxMVlTYZb5ou1Y82SOivIuFfcejLNyMS1dcpUFzqstdFQX1pm3p2dSKfxn4arEOF8FzreyvNiFs/s320/Wells+Creek+Road+At+last_06.jpg" width="212" /></a></div>Then it was simply a matter of placing the second remote camera somewhere in the valley, and skiing the five mile road down to Nooksack Falls just minutes before dark. As we looked back at Koma Kulshan in the evening, wintry mists swirled across the Mazama Glacier and Cockscomb Ridge. Early spring was here, and other journeys beckoned.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2O6oIRsMJNcrk0Cb-vChd7Zzl47jA5DxJmT8NB8LAoJiElynuJzBP9UbNYsHZ7xL9X6QW4J_Or7BAUCTmaV4uXk9L1Lkn2oBZeJgvd3y8M442i1g_PZUSPlqnwCpmWPdYA1G1ugaQNMY/s1600/Mount+Baker+From+Wells+Creek_10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2O6oIRsMJNcrk0Cb-vChd7Zzl47jA5DxJmT8NB8LAoJiElynuJzBP9UbNYsHZ7xL9X6QW4J_Or7BAUCTmaV4uXk9L1Lkn2oBZeJgvd3y8M442i1g_PZUSPlqnwCpmWPdYA1G1ugaQNMY/s640/Mount+Baker+From+Wells+Creek_10.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Alan Kearneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09797537795662546024noreply@blogger.com0