Summit Girl...The Journey Matters

#116 Pavlos-Petros Peaks. Idaho Summits 2011 Fall Outing

2011-10-17T17:17:00.000-07:00

Summit of Pavlos comes into view above tree line.

The Idahosummits.com Fall Outing participants converged on Christian Gulch in the Pashimeroi Mountain range on October 2, 2011 for an outing objective of Pavlos Peak, (11,109 ft) a Class 2/3 climb. For those that wanted a mountain 2-fer, there was an option to continue an additional mile to Petros Peak (11,060 ft), a Class 3/4 climb.

Most of my Pocatello mountaineering friends had low to non-existent climbing seasons this year as a result of other commitments and/or injuries, so I prepared to meet up with the Idaho Summits group on my own. Being adverse to uber-early drives from Pocatello to unfamiliar back-country destinations, I decided to camp at Christian Gulch the night before.

Leslie, George and Sean in camp.

I thought I left early enough, but I never seem to plan for overshooting my turnoff, which of course I did in my haste to beat nightfall. After a 30 minute side trip, I was back on course. After a half hour on washboarded gravel road, I was pleasantly surprised, in the middle of nowhere, to see a red truck I didn't recognize, with a driver, I didn't recognize, who stuck his arm out his window and waved me toward him. "Anywhere else, this would be a huge mistake," I said to myself as I proceeded my little Versa toward his truck. In the meantime, he stepped out of the vehicle and came toward my side window, which I had rolled down. "Hi Margo, I'm George (Reinier, an Idahosummits.com message board regular)." (Sigh of relief) "Hi...great to meet you George." As my odometer indicated I had two more miles to go before turning off, it was convenient that George decided to be the outing greeter. If he hadn't been, I would probably still be driving around out there.

Sean, Leslie, Margo, Dave, Alex, Steve, John, Dylan
George and Eric (photo by Dan Robbins)

George was concerned that I might not be able to get my commute-practical car all the way to camp, so he lead the way, waiting at any moment for the "I-give-up" flash of my headlights. It was pretty rugged for low clearance, but the headlight flash never came, as I made it there by dancing back and forth across the lane, dodging big rocks, ruts and gravel piles. By the time we made camp, the intermittent sprinkles that started when I met him had turned into a light rain.

At camp, I met Sean (Duffy), another message board regular, and a friend of his, Leslie Fairbrother, from Hailey, who arrived 15 minutes or so before me (George had greeted them at the trailhead too). Initially, there was no real time for pleasantries as we all were busy getting tents up and food down, pretty much in that order. Regarding tents up, you always hear to assemble a new tent yourself before taking it out in the back country. I can report that "seeing" it assembled in your front room is no substitute for the actual hands-on activity. I asked George to help me with the tent on my second attempt when the rain had died down a bit.

SummitGirl enjoying the crux.

By popular request, Delta (Steve Weston) had made dinner for the campers but he didn't know if he was going to make it in all the way to camp that night to cook it for us himself. So earlier that day, Delta had taken his Tuscan Stew over to George's house to bring out for us. George took care of heating up dinner too. (And, it was AWESOME!!) Now, the rain is coming down quite steadily as the four of us huddled under a pine tree, eating dinner, and staring at the fire in the fire pit about six feet from us. Then George says, "I have a gazebo we can put up." I quickly wondered how we ever had an Idaho Summits outing without this guy before? So the four of us spent the rest of the night under the gazebo, next to the fire, getting to know each other as the rain finally subsided and the clouds parted to a stunning starry night.

The next morning, Eric Larsen showed up from Idaho Falls before the 8 a.m. original start time. Dave and Alex Pacioretty drove in not too long after. Alex was on his second day of leave after completing boot camp in Oklahoma, having just flown into Salt Lake City the morning before. He was ready for some mountains. Dan Robbins had picked up Delta outside of Craters of the Moon, where Delta had spent the night in the car, and John and Dylan Fagden finally made it in from Boise. Dylan had all of a couple hours sleep, having gone to his homecoming dance the night before. A pretty dedicated team I would say....

Petros from Pavlos summit.

Our trip itself is well described by both Dan's and the Fadgen's trip reports. Here is my video from the summit of Pavlos (turn the volume down...it's just wind). With the multitude of reports coming out from various outing participants, I have no longer tried to put a different twist to the narrative, and instead have taken to making a photo video from pictures my team members send to me. It took me a little longer than usual to finish this particular video, as I had been looking for the "perfect" song. I think I nailed it...it fits the characteristics and landscape of this trip, and it eludes to a (now) inside joke, having nothing to do with me by the way.

It was great to climb again with old and new friends. I am forever grateful and pleased to know these truly wonderful people and am thankful they let me join them to enjoy the rugged back-country of Idaho. Climb On!

SummitGirl on Pavlos

#112, North Twin Peak, #113 Red Cone Peak, Lost River Range, Idaho

2011-08-21T18:38:00.000-07:00

North Twin Peak (c), Red Cone Peak (l)

When Dan put the note out that he was looking for hiking partners for the weekend of the 20th, I was initially excited, then a little concerned. I had just come off of a foiled Buck Mountain (Tetons) attempt and was really re-thinking my abilities. Buck Mt is third class, with some snow and an awkward, and draining, rock garden. I had gotten sick four times before reaching the saddle and then fell asleep at 10,400+ ft. Anyone who knows me knows that sleeping is something I never do in the mountains...I am too excited about being in the mountains to sleep. Apparently it just wasn't my day, but could I recover enough in barely a week to climb again?

I held out on a final decision until Thursday night when Dan put out a second note announcing that he, Zach and Tom Lopez, like "the" Tom Lopez, would be joining us to climb North Twin Peak, 11081 ft, in the Lost River Range (LRR) near Sunset Peak. Climbing with the IdahoSummits folk is a high priority on my list, but getting to climb with the man who wrote "the" book on Idaho climbing ...wow, priceless.

So with Steve's blessing to back out of our trip to City of Rocks with his friends, I did a little "wow I get to meet and climb with Tom" dance and then the furious packing, celiac-friendly carbo loading, and hydrating began.

View in the meadow.

I met the guys in Arco Saturday morning, and then off we went. We drove high into Elbow Canyon, started hiking along the road into a meadow, and then made an error...we kept climbing too far into the canyon and missed our right fork. We regrouped, checked maps, and thought through our location. We then began traversing, and steeply ascending, to achieve a spot somewhere near treeline edge to get a visual on our actual location.

As we contoured the slope and came out of the trees, we saw we were now in the right fork of Elbow Canyon, and not far off of our location estimate...but we definitely were not on the ridge we thought we were going to ascend in the first place.

Dan in the canyon heading toward the saddle.
North Twin (l), Red Cone Peak (r).

Regardless, the canyon was gorgeous, offering great views all around and the scree was easy traveling. We climbed up a shoot to get out of the canyon and made our way up to the saddle approach with only a small section of loose side-hilling to deal with.

The saddle was beautiful with flowers in bloom, bees buzzing, and butterflies flitting everywhere. We then picked our summit approach line from the saddle and began up the ridge to North Twin. Zach and Dan were ahead of me and Tom followed shortly behind us.

View from the saddle. Sunset Peak to the left, Sunrise, right.

As we looked up, at a point approximately 200 ft below the summit, a Rocky Mountain Big Horn sheep "scout" appeared above us on a tower and peered down at the curious-looking multicolor "sheep" below.

With my amazing zoom I managed a pretty descent photo of him. Shortly after, we saw the rest of his herd, or harem, up on the summit. They checked us out for a bit, but as I slowly and quietly climbed up higher to reach Zach and Dan, they scattered.

Rocky Mountain Big Horn sheep "scout."

The three of us continued on and worked our way through some ledges. In short order, we reached the summit with Tom following shortly after.

From the summit, after the requisite video, splattskis, summit (and other) photos, and snack break, we made a tentative plan to descend to the saddle, climb up to Point 10,286 and take the "right" ridge back down. Back at the saddle, the plan was still a "go" and within minutes we were at the top of Point 10,286. Here we found a Rick Baugher summit film canister with his note that indicated he was at the summit 18 years ago. We also learned the peak's name was Red Cone Peak, a to-a-tee descripter. We signed his summit note and then surveyed our descent options.

Splattski, summit Red Cone Peak,
N. Twin in the background. Zach, Dan, Tom and Margo.

It appeared that after a steep pitch immediately off of the summit, to the east, that travelling would be easier via the Cabin Fork Canyon rather than the ridge as we originally planned. So off we went. When we arrived at the canyon scree, some of it was easier travelling for awhile but then it turned into "pay attention" scree. Regardless, we all made it back down into the forest, into the meadow, and back to the car without incident.

On the drive back out of Elbow Canyon we startled up a black bear that, quicker than we could grab phones or cameras to document it, hauled up a rock face. A reminder to folks in the LRRs...that there are bear out there...best enjoyed at distance.

After a long day of climbing in the LRR, the obvious option for dinner was Pickles Place in Arco. :-) My GPS battery died, so here is the route I estimated off of the points I did capture...mapped it in Google Earth.

Route in relief.

It was a great day in the LLRs, made better with the company of Idaho Summit folk and the opportunity to meet the author of my Idaho climbing bible. Thanks everyone for letting SummitGirl join you. Climb On!

#111 Bald Mountain

2011-08-07T23:33:00.000-07:00

One of the stellar views from hiking Baldy

Bald Mountain Trail

I must have had a pretty stupefied look on my face when she asked, “Margo, do you want to do a hike up on Baldy (i.e., Bald Mountain) with me in the morning”? Not hours before I had just returned from my solo ascent of Grays Peak in the Pioneer Mountain Range of Idaho. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all up for mountains...the number in the title attests to that fact. And Grays was a respectable near 4,000 ft gain over 7 miles, so I am no slouch. But, frankly, I am of a certain age, where any summit is something to celebrate…just after a few days, not hours, of recovery. So two in a row...ahhhh, I don't know. “We don’t have to go to the top, we’ll just go to the gondola and ride down,” she added. “Well, how long will it take?” I asked. “About 2 hours,” she stated. Well, I don’t have any blisters, no cuts, no injuries from Grays…just really, really sore muscles. Okay, well this might help with recovery. “Ok, sure.” So at 8:00 a.m. we are off to Baldy or Sun Valley Ski Area, as most folks know it, to head off on a 2.5 mile hike of less than 1.5K vertical. According to SummitPost,

"Bald Mountain...is home not only to North America's first ski resort, but also includes exciting hiking terrain along with unbelievable scenery."

I've been skiing here for years, but really hadn't considering hiking it before. So we are off on our beautiful, leisurely hike, and then something happens to me.

Carol leads

When we reach the “decision” point, it’s only a mere 2.5 more miles to the top…3,000 ft vertical total. And I can’t help myself…how can I be this close and not go to the summit? “I think we should go to the summit,” I announce. Well alright then. And we continue on. Past wildflowers, ski towers, memorials to loved ones (really...it's a great idea), and beautiful healthy trees. We climb gently ever higher and make the summit 10 minutes ahead of pace.

An example view.

But then I notice...we're at the "ski" top...not the summit. "I need to keep going, I will only be a few minutes." Neither Carol nor I had brought anything other than water. After all, we were hiking for 2 hours...that's it. "I really need to get something to eat, and I've been to the top oodles of times," the former Sun Valley ski patroller says. "Absolutely." So we decide that she will go down and I will go up and we'll rendezvous for coffee at the lodge.

Splattski

So I head up a fraction of a mile and a few feet more. From the top where there is an old lookout, I get views of yesterday's peaks from the west and can see my yesterday, Grays Peak, summit. I photograph a few peaks of possible future interest and head down.

The Pioneers famous threesome

So this is the best part. If you hike up, you can ride down for free. First the chair lift and then the gondola. It was great. No stress on the knees...wonderful!! ...And it still counts as a peak. For now, I have been down numerous times, strapped to boards, and up the mountain once. It counts. Yeh, and it's all good.

No GPS, no stats. It was only supposed to be a little hike...What I do know is that turned out to be 5 miles, 3,000 ft, another bagged peak, and a fun time with one of my favorite friends. What an awesome weekend!!

If you haven't considered it before, add hiking (or mountain biking) on Bald Mountain and a latte at the lodge to your bucket list.

Chairlift Down

Gondola Down

Peak #110 Grays Peak, Solo #2

2011-08-07T23:32:00.000-07:00

Grays Peak from 9200ish feet.

I have kept this peak at the top of my list for a solo outing and this was the weekend to go after it. From SummitPost, "Grays Peak is a large hulking summit that stands out from the main crest of the Pioneer Mountains like a soar thumb. Although not as high nor rugged as its Pioneer counterparts, Grays Peak is still an attractive cone-shaped peak that is especially beautiful in winter."

I had checked into Grays in 2009 after my first solo. The folks on the Idaho Summits board recommended it for its proximity to the road (I drive a Nissan...not an off-road friendly vehicle), straightforward approach, and at class II/III, depending on conditions, was within my abilities, especially as a solo.

"Hal" at the trail head.

I decided to take the west ridge approach both ways, thinking it was easiest but noted that it would be relatively easy to bushwhack down to the Federal Gulch trail should I need to get off of the ridge. I took my GPS, with an estimated approach route, and unlike my first solo, a hard copy topo and a trip report.

I left Friday afternoon to stay with friends in Hailey and left at 6:45 a.m. to reach the trail head for a reasonably early start. According to my beta, it would be 5 miles and 4500 feet.

Heading to the high point at 9200ish ft.

When I reached the summit in almost exactly 4 hours, I was pretty stoked and in a little disbelief. After all, I got wrapped around a couple rock outcrops at lower elevations that ate up some time and I took a number of micro-breaks (stop for a moment until your breathing stops racing) when I was climbing above timberline.

View from 9200 ft

So, my ascent time seemed a little good to be true, but overall I felt pretty good, so I guess it was possible.

While on the summit I noticed weather building to the west and heading my way. Nothing too immediate, but sure enough to get a move on. So after the requisite snack break, 360 photos, video and Splattski, I was off.

Splattski!!

I made the decision because of the weather that staying on the ridge may not be a good idea. When I spotted the lower trail I bushwhacked a rib down toward it and followed the trail until it tied into the Federal Gulch trail.

Feetski!!

Once on the lower trail, I took my time to "smell the roses" as it were, or in my case, photograph butterflies. Where the trail came near the stream it was flooded so I spent some time trail- and vegetation-clump hoping to stay dry. The vegetation is some sections was SOOO tall that I couldn't see the trail in front of me, or under my feet, so I proceeded by "feet feel." A few stream crossings later, I was back at the car and then the shower started...perfect timing.

Bushwacking to the Federal Gulch Trail.

It took me 6 hours for the entire trip, including breaks. According to my GPS, total elevation was 3760 ft, and 7 miles long. Even though it wasn't as much elevation as I expected, I moved along quite well considering. I saw NO ONE, I heard nothing other than the sounds of nature. I left no trace. Thank you Sawtooth National Forest, Ketchum Ranger District for the non-motorized wilderness experience and for accurate signage. Thank you IdahoSummits Board, as always, for your knowledge and encouragement and friendship. Thank you family and friends for your support.

You can't buy more nature...only preserve, protect and enjoy it!

On may way out I stopped by the Hyndman Trail head just to, you know, look around...like at Cobb and other ideas.
:-)

My Route.

#86/109 Garns Mountain

2011-08-07T17:03:00.000-07:00

Steve ascending the upper snowfield, Garns in view.

Garns Mountain, in the Big Hole Mountains, was Steve's suggestion for a peak near his place in Driggs Idaho. The plan was to ascend via South Horseshoe. This particular trail will take you right to the summit of Garns Mountain and out the opposite side of the Big Hole range should you chose to arrange a shuttle and through hike. Our plan was just out, up, and back. Usually in July you can get into most back country areas in the Teton Range, but this past winter and spring the range has been hammered again and again with snowfall. It will be well into August until some areas are easily accessible.

The Tetons from the summit of Garns

But today (7/9/2011) was a beautiful day in the Big Holes, and except for some snow patches, was passable, albeit rather wet and boggy in places. Correspondingly, every shady spot along the way was ripe with mosquitoes, so it kept us moving at a steady pace.

Looking over at the Tetons on the ascent.

We were passed by a number of dirt bikers and a couple mountain bikers on our ascent. At one point we chatted with a few taking a break. "I see you're doing this the old-fashioned way," one commented. "Where's your bike"? We laughed and admitted our old school method was by choice. We picked up some beta and moved on. They soon passed us, but snow turned them around not long after. Of course, our "old-fashioned way" laughs at snow. When we reached the summit, we overheard a cyclist that had come up from the opposite side comment that "I've been coming up here each year for 40 years and I've never seen snow up here this late."

Piney Peak from the summit.

We took a break, had a snack, and watched chipmunks beg from us while one even went so far as to taste Steve's pack strap until we shooed it off.

Me thinks pack straps are tasty treats!

We were really tired when we reached the car, and no wonder...15 miles round trip for 2500 vertical. Still a wonderful outing! More information about Garns Mountain can be found at SummitPost.

Splattski!!

# 85/107 Peak 10941 - Idaho Summits Spring Outing 2011

2011-05-01T16:30:00.000-07:00

Margo and Cerro Ciento ridgeline (back)

The 2011 mountaineering season started out with #84, Camelback Mountain, a local peak outside of Pocatello. I had a rough winter 2010 physically. Seemed that everything broke down after the great mountain bike wreck of summer 2010. After a very difficult ascent of Camelback, I went back to the doctor and made another run at physical therapy. At the same time, I met this great guy, Steve, who got me out skate skiing about every weekend from the end of January through the begining of April. Between PT and Steve, the Idaho Summits Spring Outing came back on my radar. So I brought Steve along to meet a few of my climbing friends....

Peak 10941 was chosen after a lot of consternation over the initial choice of King Mountain in the Lost Rivers, a peak I had already done and was non-motivated to do again. Weather and snow stability conditions caused, thankfully, a change of location to this lovely little gem in the Boulder Mountains outside of Ketchum, Idaho. A bonus of the whole deal was that Idaho Summits Dan had rented his company's condo for us; so we left behind the camp gear and camp food and enjoyed comfy beds and good quality cuisine in Hailey. I was first to vote for Thai food because rice noodles (which are gluten free/Celiac friendly) carry more carbs then regular noodles...little known fact. So it was Pad Thai for dinner.

We enjoyed a leisurely 8:25 a.m. start at the trail head for a nine-person assault on the peak. Half the group planned to hike entirely and the other half would be descending on skis. Conditions were overcast when we started out but close to treeline a beautiful day burst into bloom. We ascended steadily without incident...just a few little weird steps here and there. At the high ridge traverse before the summit I followed Dan's decision to switch from snowshoes to crampons. Somehow I neglected to take a summit video or a SummitGirl photo but I did put a few photos of the day together to music.

Of the nine, Alex, Dave, Dan and I climbed and descended the peak in snowshoes/crampons. John, Dylan and Steve skinned/cramponed up and skied down. Jacob booted up, crossed over and bagged Cerro Ciento before hiking and glissading down, and Nathan, bagged 10941, Cerro Ciento, and Easley Peak before skiing down. Skiers (who had met Nate on his descent) beat the climbers down by 20-30 minutes, and Jake pulled in about 5 minutes after the climbers.

Trip Stats
Mileage: 7.1 miles
Elevation Gain: 3800 ft
Time: 7:30 hours
Class 2+
Partners: Dan, Dave and Alex P., John and Dylan F., Steve, Jacob, Nathan.

Partner Trip Reports:
Dan Robbins: Idaho Summits
John and Dylan Fagden: Fagden's Adventures

Margo & Steve, 4/29/2011

Peak 10941 brings my unique peak total to 85. Multiple ascents of a few of these peaks bring my overall count to 97 and then I reach two entries in my spreadsheet of "numerous ascents," Carbonate Peak in Hailey and Bonneville Peak in Inkom. My guess for those is probably 5-6 each...so...instead of continuing to say I probably have about 100 peaks, I am conservatively taking my 107 total forward into Summer 2011. My next summit will start at number 108. So...wanna join me on a little hike?

El Capitan, Sawtooth Range, Idaho

2010-09-15T16:22:00.000-07:00

Posing with El Capitan (far right)

I celebrated my 50th birthday weekend by attending the Idaho Summit's Fall Outing to climb El Capitan in the Sawtooth Range, Idaho. Dan, the owner/moderator of the Idaho Summits website/board started the outings in 2004. Weather cancelled two trips I tried to attend, so I didn't actually meet these guys in person until the Fall 2009 outing, which made this my third outing.

El Capitan turned out to be a perfect peak for the 12 that attended. Although it was slightly under 10K, the peak offered a pleasant scenic approach, rock hopping among snow patches, class 3+ scrambling, an exposed final approach ridge, and a rather "airy" summit. We got all 12 mountaineers on top, but it was crowded. With 800+ft drop-offs all around, maneuvering was a careful undertaking, which made it all the better.

Class III climbing

At least five other members of the group are prolific writers. So, I decided to let John P, Steve, Dan, Kris, and John F labor over their trip reports for me to link to, while I collected the group's photos to make a video trip report. (If your computer can handle it, be sure to select a higher resolution to view.)

If you don't already know why I picked the music I did, check this out.

If you'd rather not have DLR screaming at you, here is the photo album.

Check out the other trip reports for more thoughts and great photos.

Dan's Trip Report

John's Trip Report

Steve's Trip Report

Kris' Trip Report

Fadgen Family's Trip Report

Congrats and many thank yous to friends and climbing partners: Dan Robbins, John Platt, Steve Weston, Margie Ankrum, Pam Shirey, Dave Garton, Barbara Rose, Kris Franklin, Jacob Robinson, John and Dylan Fadgen.

Summit Girl on the summit

Caught in the Moment

2010-08-03T19:35:00.000-07:00

In my exuberance of being on my (any) bike again (it's been 1 month since "the endo"), I did something I have never done before...it's a windless night and except for the slight pain in my wrist that indicates to me that I probably did break something in it, I am flying on my road bike. I'm coming off the "city creek road" and turning onto the old highway, by the Jehovah's Witnesses Center. Ah...no traffic, I don't have to slow...Yippee...big wide sweeping turn and I'm cranking...18, 19, 21, 23, 26 mph and then the red car passes me on the RIGHT. I look down to my left and there it is...the solid YELLOW line. Gads...I am hugging the center lane...quick shoulder glance, hard drift right and I am on my way again, safely, solid WHITE line under my tires. Whew.

In the exuberance of being on my bike again.

Serengeti Flats descent, long before it was called Serengeti Flats.

Table Mountain - Party of Three

2010-07-19T20:08:00.000-07:00

I am way behind on trip reports again. The planning-outings-for-friends experience has gone quite well this year. I've put together 7 trips for a total of 10 peaks so far. I have been getting anywhere from 3 to to 7 attendees, but sometimes you have to count the canines. Table Mountain is peak number 10 and probably the area's most classic, epic climb that is achievable with little to no mountaineering experience. Dan Kotansky, Dave Pacioretty and I enjoyed a glorious day for this outing. We started out under some questionable overcast skies that we figured might lead to donning rain coats, but after a few sprinkles we were kept under comfortable climbing conditions on the steep west face.I slept all of 2 hours the night before, so when i wasn't trying to keep up i was wondering if I'd be able to hang all the way or have to bail at the upper ridge. As we got into the mellower upper ridge meadows my faith came back and after a snack break, our final approach to the table summit went down. We completed the ascent in 3 hours.
Dan has never done it that fast (he usually takes the other route) and it's been many years since I have done it that fast. It was cool enough for long sleeves and a rather busy day on the summit block as there were probably 50+ folks that had the same idea in mind for the day. The clouds burned off, so under sunshine we headed off for the canyon descent and saw great waterfalls, wildflowers and lots of greenery. Lower in the canyon we had to cross the stream a few times. I have seen the water higher, but not faster. The guys were great at helping their cat team member get across.

I have posted the full complement of Dave and my photos on my Picasa site. Dan uses an instamatic (how funny...blogger doesn't have this word in its spelling dictionary) camera, so when he gets his film developed (oh i can't stop laughing), i was saying...when he gets his film developed, I will add his photos to the page. Here is a short summit video.

Ahhh...finally a peak over 11K this year...i feel renewed.

Trip Time: 3 hours to summit. 7hr 56 min full trip plus breaks
Elevation gain: 4009 ft.
Total Trip Distance: 10.2 miles

Number 70 - Little Sister, Idaho Summits 2010 Spring Outing.

2010-04-20T18:12:00.000-07:00

I have a hard time getting my mind around that fact that I have made another landmark...I've summitted 70 discrete peaks; with, at last count, another 15 repeats of a number of them. Wow, that's 85 peaks...and that is what I remembered to write down. Pretty amazing for someone who had hoped to just do one sometime during her lifetime. Maybe it is time I admit I have a climbing problem.

Little Sister was the chosen adventure for the Idaho Summits 2010 Spring Outing. Matthew Durrant and I coauthored the write ups of Little Sister and its West Ridge route on SummitPost.Org. So, I'll let you check those out there. (By the way, if you were on the team, please sign the Climber's Log)

Our group of 14 was the largest outing the Idaho Summits group has had. Little Sister's Class 2 approach, even with snow, encouraged and motivated me to recruit others, so Margie, Dave (coworker) and his son, Alex, joined me. We had a great time, became even better friends, and I got to meet even more Idaho Summits members. A great group with a common love of the mountains. Just so cool.

Since I knew I could count on at least 2-3 other online trip reports, I decided to do something different (in addition to the SummitPost articles), so I took a stab at making a photo trip report. So now I've made my first YouTube post.

And just think...there used to be a time when all you did was climb a mountain and tell a few friends about it, and there was no such thing as a camera to prove it. Amazing.

Dan's Idaho Summits Trip Report

Splattski's Trip Report

My FaceBook Status 4-1-2010

2010-04-01T18:05:00.000-07:00

I returned from Hawaii on Tuesday and I've been too tired to post my facebook status...so here it is, on my blog cuz i've well exceeded the FB character limit.
Sooooooooooooooo.....11 days; 6 flights; 2 islands; 1 wedding, 1 new daughter-n-law, 4 more new family members; (1) 4,576-vert hiked summit of the tallest mountain in the world if you count the below sea level height, 1 drive-up summit, 1 road to Hana and a hillbilly detour, 1 Volcanoes National Park with no lava flowing and no Plan B for no lava flowing, 1 sea arch with huge waves crashing, 1 southernmost point of the U.S. where a professional photographer was kind enough to take our photo (always, always ask the folks with fancy cameras to please take your photo), 5 excellent body board rides, 1 I-Sure-Didn't-See-That-Wave-Coming experience, 2 scuff-ups from body board surfing against rocks, 1 aquarium, 8 zip lines/3 awesome zip line guides, 15 total hiked miles;
AND...7 beaches/1 black sand, 1 huge bamboo forest, 6 waterfalls; 1 full moon bow, 3 rainbows,1 full sunrise/sunset, 1 huge rainstorm; 13 new Hawaiian words, all public appropriate; 7 humpbacks, 1 gorgeous whale song, 3 geckos; uncountable birds, trees, flowers, 1 "home" tree (think Avatar), 1 banyan tree (different than the home tree), 1 ocean wave-swamped chihuahua still holding on to its fetch-stick;
AND...1 shopping district, 3 shopping markets, 2 supermarkets; 2 leis, 4 necklaces, 1 pair earrings, 2 Hawaiian shirts, 1 sarong, 1 shorts, 2 baseball hats, misc knick-knacks, and 1 stupid expensive sucker purchase, BUT a little less stupid expensive because...I also have 1 never-worn, outrageously-priced, ticket-still-on, one-piece swimsuit I can return to Macy's because my bikini still rocks (yes...surprised me too)
AND FINALLY...4 bars, too many Mai Tais, sake, 8 bottles of wine (1 local winery); 2 salsa dances with a tolerant and talented partner, 4 restaurants w/1 on the water, 2 condos, 1 hotel room, 1 mistaken car entry with shocked passenger sitting in the back seat; 43 videos, 372 photos; 3 new FB friends; several hilarious stories, many more memories; lots of sashimi, too many dark chocolate-covered macadamia nuts, 1 invention idea; and 1 BFF that was there every step. Whew!

So, basically, I would say my status is EXCELLENT! Mahalo.

Ski Day Team Builder

2010-02-27T08:31:00.000-08:00

I work with pretty awesome people so a team builder isn't really a necessity, but a nicety. I talked a group of alpiners from the Idaho Falls and the Pocatello BLM offices into taking a day off of work and shredding some snow on a two-fer-one day at Grand Targhee Resort. I had 12 participants to start, but they whittled to 6, with the Pocatello office rather under-represented (numberwise, not skillwise, Pacioretty represented). Regardless, it turned out to be an awesome day, though not bluebird, with 5-8 in. new fluffy snow over hardpack...fun conditions...warm temperatures, no wind, no crowds, and oh yea...half price. I was lax on the movie taking...contacts precluded my ability to see the Sapphire controls (a problem I am remedying today)...and frankly, stopping just wasn't something I wanted to do much more than necessary.

Deena working down Chief Joseph Bowl

Break at the Lodge

What I learned about my coworkers...Patch is much better on the hill than behind a semi; Teel is tough as nails; Hill x 2 were all over it; Hill, R.D., just keeps going and going; and Kotansky is magnitudes better than his boots suggest!

This was a great beta-test for another team builder, hopefully this year.
Lessons Learned:
Radios with a group on a big mountain are a must,
Other mountains might accommodate a broader range of abilities,
Get the word out earlier.

Ski On!

Yet ANOTHER Blue Bird Day Valentine's Day 2010

2010-02-19T19:29:00.000-08:00

Valentine's Day 2010...with the ones I love, rippin' it up on the slopes. My best friend, Margie; my son, Jeremy; and my soon to be daughter-in-law, Joni, hooked up at Beaver Mountain for a blue bird day of skiing on groomers and powder.

The Big Kahuna Snowman in the Canyon...by the way, this is 10 feet tall, just so you know.

On the Lift
All videos by Sapphire

Playing in Powder, something I've not done enough of

Break at the Lodge

Videos by Sapphire

Skiing with the Fam

2010-02-07T18:42:00.000-08:00

YET ANOTHER spring ski day. TOO early in the season for that kind-o-stuff. All I have today is a couple videos from the day; mostly for the fam. Sapphire is pretty amazing. The sound pick up and play back is astounding, but when you think about it, that probably should be a given. However, the next generation definitely needs improvements in the video department. Let's start with better lens placement, zoom capability, and a still photo option. A little place to hook a baby leash would be great too. I would use Sapphire more if I weren't in constant fear of watching her careen down a slope, disappear into the snow and/or drop through the deck. Today I figured out in the editing software how to rotate the movie if Sapphire forgets to self-rotate, which she occasionally does. Something else to fix for Gen 6.

Chair Ride

J&J Run

The Deck, Beer, Sun, Snow...Mountain life...gotta love it!

The Mom-in-Law...I prefer MIL, (notice: there is no F in that) ;-)

Videos by Sapphire

Name That Run !!

2010-02-03T17:45:00.000-08:00

Extra points...name that skier...hint: too conservative, too many turns and not all that fast....

It's been too long since I've been to Pebble Creek, a gem of a ski area that we locals don't say much about, because quite frankly we don't want you to show up. 2,200 vertical on ~ 1,000 acres makes for some very sweet runs. All the advertisements say there are trails for everyone. I'm sorry, they are wrong. There's the bunny hill and then there is everything else, at least that is my opinion. You need some descent plank skills to ski here AND enjoy it. But I think everyone should try it once.

Today was a hooky day from work and in nearly spring conditions I had great runs with a work friend. It was supposed to be friends, but the other two bailed...and while I respect their decision to be responsible professionals, I am sorry for them both, for it was truly a great afternoon. Little to no wind, few to any people, good snow conditions, great views of the snow covered valley, comfy temps and enough sun shining through to get an "I've been out skiing" glow.

Things that have changed since i was there last: most all the blue runs have been re-rated to black diamonds (yipee!), the lodge is remodeled (that'll date me), there is a fancy ramp system to keep you from careening into a lodge window (gosh it was so much better with the occasional run-away snowboard shattering the glass), and because there were no wine cups upstairs I was graciously over, over, poured on my apres-ski merlot. I was set up with really sweet demos from John at Scott's for the day, which have totally ruined me and makes my current skis nothing less than anchors to me and hazards to others.

Days like today remind me why I live here, why I commute 100 mi a day to stay here, and why it's hard for me to picture ever leaving. I am blessed by getting to live here and by being surrounded with wonderful people who don't mind hanging out with me. It has been too long since I've been to Pebble Creek. It won't be that long again. Ski On!

Answer to Name That Run?

Videos by Sapphire

No Whumph - Kelly Mountain

2010-01-17T14:31:00.000-08:00

Snow physics is truly interesting. Yesterday, Margie and I went on the same snowshoe route that I did 2 weeks ago on Kelly Mountain. Then (see previous blog), there were several minutes when I was willing to bet Alan and I would make the local paper for starting a slide down Norm's Hill. Just this past Thursday, the northern section of southeast Idaho got hit with a warmer, heavier layer of snow...a wonderful present for the upcoming (this) holiday weekend...and a night and day difference for this area's snow conditions.

Conditions 2 weeks before.

On the way up the Moose Canyon trail, we passed a group of beginner snowshoers and wondered why their "guide" chose the route we were on as it has a steady half-hour or so steep climb. At a junction, two of the group's members decided what we were doing looked more interesting than the turnoff the leader was taking and followed behind us. Noland had maybe 15 years on us (guessing) but was steady and very talkative up the whole ascent. At the ridge, his much-younger-than-us partner had fallen way behind. We had no intention of inviting them with us on the Moose Trail variation, because of it's length and strenuousness, and because someone, who will remain nameless, stayed up too late playing scrabble with a friend the night before and delayed the trip start by 3.5 hours. Since the day was short, we suggested Noland regroup with his friend, wished him well, and took off.

The weather was close to springlike for January. Little wind, lots of sun, and comfortable-cold temperatures. While we still had to break trail a good part of the way, a base of sorts feels to have formed in the snow, and the wind in the last two weeks has done some packing and consolidating as well. We reached the igloo (our usual trip stop) in what would have been record time if we hadn't spent as much time socializing with Noland as we did.

With far less trepidation than 2 weeks prior, we started down Dora's Drop onto Norm's Hill and on an already one-person broken trail. Big difference this time, no whumphs, no cracks, no thrills, no chills. Just an uneventful quick descent. So, it was back to the car and another good day of playing in Mother Nature's gym. (Check Avalanche.org for information about the area you are going.)

Unbelievably, I left my sapphire at home, but remembered the camera has video capabilities too. Just a short clip showing how nice a day it was.

(Make that Highway 26...you can't see I-15, but I had the direction correct.)

Gear Notes. Denali Evo Ascents: I field deployed my floats mid-trek for breaking trail. Removing them when back on packed trails required using my pole tip as a pry bar, just to help pop the set. I used the climbing bars on the steep ascent this time. Because the trail was punched already, the bars helped keep my weight directly over the teeth and kept me from backsliding. I didn't use them two weeks ago in the baseless powder. Traction was better then by having your weight closer to the ground to essentially kick and pack steps...no backsliding then either.

Whumph, Whumph. Kelly Mountain

2010-01-03T20:39:00.001-08:00

I had been itching to get on the snowshoes and get some vertical, and finally it snowed, a lot...actually, too much. What is usually a no-never-mind conditioner at Kelly Canyon took a turn for the frightful....

My friend, Alan, and I ventured out to Kelly Canyon today, where an awesome matrix of snowshoe trails are marked. I was looking forward to a good workout; the entire full-day loop is what I selected. Because of the previous night's heavy snowfall, we had to break through a couple feet of snow, the entire way. I should say, he had to. I took my turn in front several times, but Alan, hands down, took the day's award for trail breaking.

Ridge Stop

It wasn't until we were well past the half way point on the ridge, sheltering in the igloo the boy scouts make every year, and getting ready to head down that it fully occurs to me, "You know, it snowed a lot, there isn't a base, and what we'll be going down is pretty steep. We'll have to stay close to the trees."

Igloo Stop

And so we started down. And it's going fairly well, until I hear whumph. I look around and listen, whumph. I have to get Alan's attention to get him to stop moving and listen...whumph. "That is weird, it sounds like they are blasting the hill (the nearby ski hill), but timewise it doesn't make sense...the lifts are open." I am whispering; he isn't. I suggest we stay extremely quiet. I advise keeping off the open slopes and listening carefully...when we hear it again. We continue down. Whumph. It sounds closer this time and that's when we realize it is us...and then Alan sees "it." "Look," he points, "that crack just appeared." Yike. I look around ... the slope is skiable, the slope is slide-able. This is not good, this is really not good. It's late in the afternoon, doubling back is not an option. There really is no choice other than down and out, and the sooner the better...and that's when I felt the first wave of fright. We quickly head to a tree, reach it, pause, whumph, crack, quickly move to another tree, another whumph, another crack, and the fright continued.

It's not unusual to see an occasional skier when I am on Norm's Hill, a steep, north-facing, lightly wooded, back-country ski slope. It is only 500 feet long, but there are no skiers this day...and no tracks indicating there were any all day. Hum...no base, a major snowstorm, no ski tracks, and steep enough...my stupidity is in full bloom. Worst of all, this isn't news to me. Back-country conditions have been terrible all season. I've watched the Titus Ridge snow pit video, and talked with others that have been out on Teton Pass. But this isn't Titus Ridge or Glory Mountain, it's Norm's Hill for Pete's sake. I can't even process that a slide is possible, but the whumphing and cracking are unmistakable, which means we are exactly where we shouldn't be.

"I think we should head into the thicker area of trees, the more trees the better," Alan said, breaking my self-berating. No argument from me. I stay on his heels...not exactly the prescribed mode of "avalanche country" travel. You are suppose to move one person at a time. That way, if the slope releases, one person should have a better chance for survival and initiate a rescue. But the whumphs continue, we have no avalanche beacons, and staying together and moving quickly and quietly seemed most prudent, so we did. Alan was knee to thigh-high in snow, but it's amazing how fast you can move when you are motivated. Whumph, another crack, whumph, and another. We finally make it to the thicker area of trees and brush. We stop and breathe and do that nervous, relieved laugh. "Don't laugh, we're not down yet," I hush us. We continue down, and the yurt comes into view...there are no more whumphs.

We make our way to the yurt and have it to ourselves. As we warm in the shelter and stoke up the fire, we laugh, and laugh some more, because we can't stop, and I laugh so hard I start to cry, but it was because I knew better. Too greedy to get out I was. Too greedy to be in the beautiful white blanket under tall green pines, and quiet skies, no people, and little wind I was. Too greedy to show a friend one of my favorite places. Too greedy to really remember about being safe. God taught me a lesson in greed today...and even why it is called a deadly sin, because today, it could possibly have been.

Post-Scare Interview (videos by Sapphire [my Ipod])

Philippians 2:3. Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but
in humility consider others better than yourselves.

M&M Adventures

2009-11-01T17:51:00.000-08:00

Today's Episode, Wife Beater Knoll (a.k.a Caribou Mountain scout).
Brought to you by Sapphire.

Part 2 - High Angle Skills

Part 3 - Off a Few Degrees

Part 4 - Proof I Will Climb Anything

No. 67, Deep Creek Peak

2009-10-19T19:46:00.000-07:00

I wanted to go somewhere close to Pocatello, with a little less vertical than the 4,000+/trip I've done in recent weekends. Deep Creek Peak is the highpoint of the Deep Creek mountains in southeast Idaho that lie between Arbon and Rockland Valleys.

I planned on going solo but asked Margie, who's knee deep in sanding and staining her deck, to go. Putting added pressure on her, I mentioned that the peak was Maka (her dog) friendly. It wasn't until Saturday night that I found out that she had picked up the pace, finished her deck, and that I'd be having company.

Being overconfident in the peak's accessibility and straightforward route (per Dan's trip report), I opted not to download a map to the gps or print out a trip report, but I did bring Tom Lopez's book, with plans to use it for driving directions. Margie said she had been on the road and in that area before, so that was good enough for me. The route is 5 miles roundtrip, with a summit elevation of 8,748 ft and 2,000 vertical to get there, similar to our local Scout Mountain and Bonneville Peak, so we left Pocatello at 7:00 a.m. with expectations to be back by early afternoon.

After leaving I-86, we had the two-lane highway south through Arbon Valley to ourselves. Dawn was trying to break through the clouds when all the sudden, there he was, in the middle of our lane, a buck whose back was higher than the hood of her SUV. I didn't even have a chance to utter anything, I just looked over at Margie to see if she was seeing him, and her audible gasp answered my question. I had no more than a split second to look back at him to see if impact was inevitable. Margie was just processing her evasive action, when he decided he should move, quick. We passed him without getting a chance to swerve and within an inch of his rear. Margie could see his hair move in the swish of our passing.

Well it's a shame her heart rate monitor wasn't turned on, because I'm sure it would have belied her calm exterior. After some conversation about how much it would have sucked to fix her front end a second time, within months of the first time, we continued watching for his friends and looking for our turnoff.

Soon we were on Knox Canyon road, heading to the start of our ascent route. On the way we saw hunters with horses, hunters with atvs, and hunters with no plans to be more than 100 yards from their rigs for any reason (i.e., illegal road hunting, lovely). The biggest disappointment to me was to see how littered and dirty looking everything was within viewing distance of the road. I am convinced there are two classes of hunters. One class with, and one without. At least in this area, there seem to be a lot of hunters in that latter class.

Tom's book indicated that we were looking for an "intersection" of sorts on a "crest" (one way) or (traveling from the opposite direction)a "pass." And pass we did...the pass, that is (p.s. consistent terminology is really important, it's either a pass or a crest from either direction...yes I would love a climbing guide editing gig...email me). We understood we'd be doing a west approach on the peak, so we figured we needed to descend the road some more to reach said intersection. So without looking in the rear-view mirror, we kept going and traveled all the way to the north-south highway in the next (Rockland) valley, and the sign there told us, that we were on the Big Canyon road. Yep, just east-wested the entire range.

The error was obvious and we set the trip-o-meter to backtrack the 9 or so miles (per Tom' s book) where we suspected we should be. And, at about 9 miles, we were at the blue pickup hunter truck we saw on the way down. Must be here. We pulled in next to the truck.

We piled out, donned gear, and tried to make apparel decisions for the not-so-good-of-a-weather day we didn't expect but we were clearly going to get. Donning gear concluded with red shirts (hunter protection) all around...Maka included.

[I don't purposely try to hike or not hike during hunting season. It is something I don't really pay much attention to as in, I thought back at my the house, "Hum...there may be hunters out, hum, but i have no red or orange, hum...this is pretty much a ridge hike and I have a bright yellow backpack. Good enough." ]

So without looking in the rear-view mirror (i.e., behind us), we start off, 9:30, by crossing the road and immediately hiking up a steep hill, with no faint jeep trail noticeable (something I remember reading in a trip report somewhere). Then we're quickly in a very brushy section, sidehilling, with our first views of one of the multiple little peaks we'd go up and over before we would reach the summit. But something was bothering me. I kept looking ahead trying to see the ridge route that would be the majority of our climb and was seeing nothing other than more brush and heavy forest. Just not what I expected. I suggested we move from the sidehill to the top of the ridge above us and get a better look around. By then, we actually turned around and saw the peak we were supposed to be climbing, across the gully, the start visible less than 1/2 mile further up the road. So, down we went, and now with a 0.6-mi hill warm up under our boots and paws, we piled back in the car, moved it up the road, piled out and tried again.

It was at this point that the jeep trail was more than noticeable and as we continued, the route manifested as Dan describes in his trip report, "The hike starts out of a brushy, semi-forested ridge, that provides a challenge as it roller coasters up to the peak itself. Once on the mountain, the ridge becomes bare and a very easy terrain to hike." Spot on, Dan.

We discovered that Maka loves, among other things, tracking the trail, and she lead us the whole way. She was a little confused around a rock outcrop where numerous game trails exist. At that point we had to keep directing her upwards. Finally in the all too common blasting southeast Idaho winds, and significantly cooler temperatures than anticipated, we summited with plans to tag-off, take photos, and descend to a lunch spot that was out of the wind.

Even on this overcast day, there was at least 100 miles visibility. Bannock Peak (on the Fort Hall Indian Reservation) is a distinctive pyramidal shape, to the north, and this was my closest look at it from a mountaineering standpoint. Non-Native Americans are not allowed on the peak without permission from the Tribal Council, which I have learned through two attempts isn't (probably ever) granted. Mt. Harrison, and Cache and Independence Peaks were visible on the southwest. A dusting of snow was visible on Black Peak and Black Pine Peak to the south, which we'd summited a couple weeks before. The Lemhis were still snowcapped, Big Southern Butte had lost its snow, and the sun was shining on the Pioneers to the northwest.

The ascent was uneventful, just windy. On the descent, within about 20 minutes of the car, my left hiking pole collapsed sending me to the ground in a very hard side ankle roll. So i gimped a bit on the way out with new appreciation for "Margo tight," when adjusting the poles, not being tight enough. There were lots of shots taken by hunters but not at or near us. The only downside, if any, was the lost time caused by us not finding the trail head on first try (because I didn't download any coordinates/maps, lesson learned), and that sour melon poweraid is REALLLLY terrible.

It took us 5 minutes longer to complete the route than Dan and Zach. Including summit time and lunch...so we were quite pleased. We do agree with Dan that this is a good early season hike/conditioner once the road is open. So keep this in mind for next spring.
More photos here.

Rainier 2000. Older trip report for a mountain that is still there...

2009-10-17T03:22:00.000-07:00

Somewhere over the years in migrating to two newer computers, I lost files, important files, files I didn't want to lose. One of the older files I found was this trip report of my climb of Mt. Rainier. I corrected a couple words and deleted a sentence; otherwise, it is the original account written in 2000. A modified version with an assortment of the team's photos lived on the internet on ISU's Outdoor Program website for a long time, but it disappeared before I even thought to copy the photos. So all I have left are the photos pasted in the physical album and the few herein. My hope is to preserve the trip here, and maybe be able to track down and rescue the rest of the photos.

I lived in Bremerton, Washington, from 1983 to 1987. Jeremy was three, and I was primarily a stay-at-home mom. I was an aerobic instructor at the Bangor Military Base, and though I was interested in hiking, I never had any aspirations to climb anything. After all I was from Ohio, and it was already a big deal that I was living out west, let alone participating in any “extreme pursuits.” The first time I had an inkling to climb anything was on a hiking trip to upper Lena Lake. It was a long hike, and maxed out Jeremy, who had to be carried the last 20 minutes. The hike terminated at a small, beautiful alpine lake. Mt. Lena watched over us and appeared to be an easy scramble, albeit exposed. I remember commenting to my (ex-) husband that it would be interesting to climb to the top. He looked at me rather incredulously. So much for that thought.

Mount Rainier, at 14,410 ft, is the most heavily glaciated peak in the contiguous United States. Reaching the summit requires a vertical elevation gain of more than 9,000 ft over a distance of eight or more miles, depending on the route. In 1999, 10,919 people attempted to climb Mount Rainier; 5,255 summited. A large number of ascents are made by Pacific Northwest locals who attempt the 9,000-ft vertical climb from sea level, with varying degrees of success. Other attempts are made by Highpointers, as Rainier is Washington’s highest peak, and international climbers, training for something bigger. To these nonlocals, Rainier is just another peak. Nothing particularly special, just long and unpredictable. But to the “locals,” which I had been, Rainier is so much more. Bruce Barcott, in Measure of a Mountain, Beauty and Terror on Mount Rainier, states it best:

The local vernacular admits only one “Mountain,” and when Rainier rises we tell each other, “The Mountain is out.” Mount Rainier is at once the most public symbol of the Pacific Northwest and its most sacred private icon. A friend once disclosed that she says a prayer whenever she sees it. A stranger I met on its high southern flank told me, “you must love this mountain as much as I do,” but his reverent tone of voice told me I couldn’t. Lou Whittaker, who has climbed Rainier more than one hundred fifty times, told me about returning home from a Himalayan expedition and catching sight of the mountain, and feeling it snap his breath clean away. …We look at Rainier and regard the vastness of God; yet we look at it and claim it as our own.

In 1983, I fell in love at first sight with Rainier; I looked for him everyday; he had become “my” mountain.

I actually had an opportunity to attempt the summit with an outdoor program class at a local community college. I was in excellent physical condition at the time, but had no mountaineering experience. I felt out of my league, and without any friends interested in joining me, I lacked the confidence to go so far as to even sign up for the class. It would not be until 1995, after having summited, with Bob, my first “real” mountain in Idaho, that I expressed to him my interest in climbing this “peak” in Washington State. I think it blew him away when he read about the mountain.

In 1996, I suggested our vacation be to the Pacific Northwest. In all Bob’s travels, it was one area of the country he had not seen. We started in North Bend (off Snowqualmie Pass); traveled to downtown Seattle and explored the city, waterfront, and the infamous Pike’s Place Market; headed to the San Juan islands; stopped over in Victoria, B.C.; crossed over to the peninsula, visited friends in Bremerton; and “swung by” Rainier to climb to base camp and scout things out for a future summit attempt.

Having spent a week at sea level, the climb to Camp Muir, at 10,000 ft, became difficult for me around 9,000 ft. I got a headache, a bad one. When we reached camp, outside of using the rest room, I never moved from my seat on a rock until it was time to descend. I felt better as I made my way down, but also made a mental note to make a summit attempt directly from the higher altitude of Idaho, and save the sea-level sightseeing for later.

In 2000, and less than one week after a successful Mt. Moran summit in Wyoming, Bob and I were on our way to Washington to attempt Rainier with an ISU common adventure group. There were 12 people signed up for the trip, and one leader. Not a good ratio, and earlier that summer I had been advised by friends to consider pulling out of the trip and trying it another year, with a smaller group. I was convinced and tried to change Bob’s mind. But he was very practical about it all. We would go with the group, and if we were not comfortable with the situation then we would break away from the group and attempt the summit together or retreat, whatever was prudent.

We arrived at Paradise Visitor Center/ranger station, on August 7th, and I was sent ahead (because I am slow and I knew where I was going) while Bob waited for ISU’s van. They arrived an hour late, and after a second hour of preparation, Bob and the group headed up behind me. It was beautiful weather, sunny and warm. Bob had left the main group and by mid-afternoon caught up with me, and we climbed the last 1,000 ft together. We set up our camp and by late afternoon everyone else had arrived and set up camp at Muir, where up to 110 people may stay per night

At this point two of the women decided not to make the summit attempt the next morning. One woman had recently had knee surgery and had only intended to get to Muir. Another woman had tried before, gotten sick, and turned her entire group around (it is standard practice for an entire rope team to turn around if one member gets sick). She didn’t want to be responsible for turning another group around, and we were appreciative of her decision.

It was time to group into teams. We wanted to be on a strong team. I felt I could keep myself going, but didn’t know if I could handle being turned around by someone weaker. Fortunately, Bob arranged for us to be on a rope team with Todd, a climber and guide, who drove out from Colorado for this trip. Todd would lead the two of us, and we would be the second of the three teams.

I had read a trail report in the shelter, which I assumed everyone else had seen, that directed climbers to start earlier than normal and be back at camp by 10:00 a.m., because the long period of warm weather had made rockfall/icefall danger extremely high. Therefore, I was voting to leave camp by 10:00 p.m. However, everyone else wanted to wake up at midnight (the standard time) to begin the hike up. So, having been out voted, midnight, August 8th, came and went and it was 1:45 a.m. when our three rope teams joined several other teams for the climb.

Crampons on and ice axes in hands we made our way over and around small crevasses, a 200-ft section of bare rock, and then an aluminum ladder “bridge” that crossed a narrow, but deep (we would see later) crevasse. We jumped over several other crevasses, still in the dark, as we headed toward the Ingraham Direct route. We passed high camp and its sleeping occupants, and we saw an absolutely beautiful and unobstructed view of sunrise on the earth’s east horizon.

We had originally planned to ascend the Disappointment Cleaver route, the most popular route on the mountain, but warm weather, rock and icefall, and detours around crevasses made it a less appealing choice. The Ingraham Direct is a Grade I/II route (strenuous, rock and ice fall, 35 to 40 degree snow and ice slopes, altitude) and had been the most traveled route to the summit in past weeks. A clearly marked, well-defined boot track was in place all the way to the crater rim. This route also avoided the traverse to the Disappointment Cleaver and the notorious rockfall hazard associated with the cleaver. However, the Direct is not the safest route, as it was the scene of a serious accident in early June involving natural, spontaneous icefall. Further, a section of the boot track above Ingraham Flats, we were told, is routinely swept with icefall, even in the morning. Climbing parties were being advised to “move quickly through areas exposed to icefall and seriously consider their level of acceptable risk before exposing their team to objective hazards.” The Ingraham Direct cuts right above 12,000 ft to join up with the Disappointment Cleaver route near the top of the cleaver. Though we had chosen the Ingraham “Direct” route, it required an extra hour detour to circumvent a large crevasse on the upper snowfield.

At 13,000 ft I hit the wall; I was exhausted. This had become the hardest physical effort I had ever undertaken. I had to count my steps...first to 100, but quickly to 50, then only to 30 before stopping a moment to rest...to get my mind off how tired I was and how badly I wanted to sit for awhile. Well, I didn’t have to persevere much longer it turned out, because I should have recalibrated my altimeter at Muir...we reached Columbia Crest and the huge summit crater half an hour later. We dropped our packs, grabbed a snack, and headed across to Rainier’s true summit.

It was truly exciting to be at the top of a mountain that you wanted to climb for a long time. I choked back the lump in my throat and checked out our surroundings. To the south we could see Mts. St. Helens, Adams, Hood, and Bachelor; to the north Baker and Olympus were clear, but Seattle and everything below these peaks was covered from our view with the Pacific Ocean’s motherly blanket of clouds.

We conversed with other climbers; a fellow from Germany took our group pictures. Bob even heard a conversation a fellow in his early 20s was having with his mom on his cellular phone. After telling her he was on the summit of Rainier, Bob heard him tell his mom, “No mom, this is a pretty big mountain; I won’t be home for supper tonight.” We took photos, lots of them, we signed the register (I left my Portage golf tee in the register box), and we crossed the crater to begin our descent to Muir.

It was 11:00 a.m., it was very warm, and from what, apparently, only I had read, we were supposed to back in camp already. The dangerous part of our climb hadn’t occurred yet. We started down.

It was bright, sunny, and very warm. The snow balled under our crampons with each step we took and caused us all to lose our footing and descend in a semislide-step fashion. I noticed at times that my steps landed on very thin patches of glacier that looked like they would break any second, and I pointed them out to Bob behind me.

We had to stop often on our way down so Shane, our leader, could get on his hands and knees and gently probe with his ax to test the integrity of the crossings we’d carefreely plodded over just a few hours before. Seemingly oblivious to the hazards, a couple rope teams loped/ran past us. It seemed inappropriate to go off trail and descend as they were, with the risk of falling into a hidden crevasse at any moment, but they looked like they had a strategy and experience. Their method did not seem to interest any of our team, but their haste caught our attention.

We reached the Ingraham Headwall (which wasn’t the way we planned to come down, but we had missed our turn) at approximately noon. It is a very beautiful but deadly place. You could clearly see the avalanche and rockfall runouts from the headwall, and you could also see that our trail was going to go through them and meander next to them the entire way down. We heard the rumbling of the moving glacier and saw and heard the terror of rockfall, against the peaceful melting of the snow and ice into hidden glacial streams. You could also feel your personal anxiety rise. This was the real thing.

In hindsight, (aside from me sharing the information about leaving early that I had read in the shelter) we should have had a quick group meeting before we entered the headwall area. The conversation should have been very pointed, “See that teeny, tiny spot, way over there? We don’t stop moving through this section until we get there, and we move fast.”

If you’ve ever read Into Thin Air, or other similar stories, you ask yourself, how did those people get in that situation?…if I were there I would have (fill in the blank). I’ve thought the same, but in reality something very different happens. We stopped three times through this section where objective hazards (snow, ice, and rockfall, and opening crevasses) were in charge. I never knew why we were stopping, but I had no interest in it. I wanted to tell our team, “Let’s pass everyone and get out of here.” I felt, and heard, the same anxiety in others, while I think a few team members had no true idea what a high-risk situation we were in. But in mountaineering the unspoken rules are: we are a team, we have a leader, we follow, we do not ditch the same people we hope will pull our butts out of a crevasse because we did not agree with their pace or the number of stops they make. At the same time, I am in the middle of our rope, and having a running conversation in my head, “What am I going to do if Todd (in front) runs in a different direction than Bob (in back) when this slides?” I could just see myself trapped and suspended in the middle of the path of the slide like a pendant on a necklace. But other than some glacier rumblings and another rockfall event (well away from where we were), we got through to high camp without mishap.

We now approached the crevasses we had jumped over in the dark. They were pretty much the same width, but the snow was much softer and you could see how deep they were. So we jumped with more conviction, axes at the ready, and it was only the last person in our party who broke through the landing that all of us noticed when we jumped was thin. He was prepared and had enough velocity in his jump to keep himself from becoming a crevasse rescue. So, on we went…to the bridge.

It was an 8-ft aluminum ladder with two 1 x 4”s laid over the rungs and all lashed together with webbing. There was a fixed line parallel to it that had functioned as a hand rail, of sorts, that morning. The ladder crossed a crevasse with no bottom. It had been a “never mind” to cross in the dark, but it sure looked different now. The fixed line was no longer secure and not an option to use. Axe still at the ready, my first step on the ladder was a slip, as the snow had balled under my crampons and afforded no footing. I quickly leapt backwards and off the ladder to clear my crampons and try again. The second attempt went better, but unlike earlier that morning, the warm temperatures and the wet wood grabbed the crampons on every step. It was an exciting few steps and I was across, and then so was Bob, and then so was the rest of our party.

I finally breathed.

We returned to Muir where everyone napped, except Bob, who busied himself with putting away gear and cooking. At sunset the winds, of which Rainier is so infamous, picked up and while Bob slept through it all I was pelted with the side of the tent all night.

Before sunrise the wind grew even stronger. Our tent was flapping on both of us and I tried to wake Bob once with my concerns. It wasn’t until the pole snapped and the tent collapsed on us that I fully got his attention. He went outside to check out the situation, but it became clear our only option was to take down the tent and retreat to Rainier’s winter shelter. As we were breaking camp we saw a tent, of a party gone on a summit attempt, blow clear off the mountain. They were not going to be happy when they got back.

Getting to the shelter was no easy task for me. The shelter was only 50 ft away, but in high winds, carrying gear, I literally had to hold on to rocks I passed just to stay upright. Quickly, our whole group tore down camp and became shelter refugees.

We began the second part of our descent in the same high winds, but approximately 1,000 ft lower the winds subsided. Bob skied down the Muir snowfield (rugged as it was) and I tried to glissade, but the snow was too soft and warm. I got going a couple times, but eventually just had to stand back up and trudge. After Bob reached the end of the snowfield he actually climbed back up 1,000 ft to take my pack down, and then he climbed the 1,000 ft again just to ski unencumbered. We completed the hike, down the thousands of stairs (I tried to count them in ’96), and the paved trail, back to the parking lot.

After packing the vehicles, cleaning up, a beer in the bar, and T-shirt shopping, the rest of our group left and Bob and I played “tourists” the rest of the afternoon, watching the Rainier movie, strolling through the exhibits, and looking at the mountain through the periscope in the observation building. I think we really had the full experience, and yes, we’d do it again.

No. 66 - Al West IdahoSummits Fall 2009 Outing.

2009-10-11T14:35:00.000-07:00

This is Al West Peak (snowy dome in the center). It was the Plan B trip when Plan A, Pyramid Peak in the Pioneers, became inaccessible with 2 ft of snow on the road.

(Click any photo for a larger picture.)

Nine folks from the site made the trip: John, Pat, Dave, Eric, Michael, Aaron, Steve, IdahoSummits site creator-Dan, and me. I've wanted to meet these guys for a long time. I read the board a lot a post a little, and they've been very helpful with their wealth of Idaho mountain knowledge and climbing experience. I've been amazed and inspired by their accomplishments and really thought I might be overstepping my abilities by joining them. Finally, I decided that there was nothing to lose. I would get to meet everyone, and if everything went well, then I would meet everyone and successfully summit. I went over Friday evening to camp and spent a fun night listening to stories, finding out what folk did for a living, hearing about their families, discussing gear, eating, drinking and getting ready for the day ahead.

The next morning Aaron and Michael pulled in and we got underway at 8:00 a.m. in 15 degrees. We spent about an hour or so navigating back and forth lower Rock Creek canyon, the creek itself, and a lot of brush. It was shady and cold and we couldn't wait to get into the sun.

We came out to an opening and saw a better view of the ridges and walls between us and the summit. Well, it was at this point where we decided to break into two groups. One group would do the planned route (John, Dan, Michael, Steve and me) and the other (Pat, Dave, Aaron, Eric) would break new ground.

My group continued on, John in the lead, side-hilling in the snow until we reached the sunshine and a steep gully with perfect snow for kick stepping (sorry the video is in sepia, an effect I didn't purposely choose...cold fingers and little slippery buttons aren't a good match). We continued up the gully and took a break in the trees from what had become a pretty strong, cold steady wind. After a quick break, Michael took off ahead to the rocky crux ridge.

Dan and I followed a few minutes later, and Steve and John started up afterward. It turned out it wasn't going to be Steve's day. He and I were both plagued by frozen camelbacks, but I had put mine down the front of my shirt for most the way and got a little cooperation out of it. With not enough energy to safely summit, Steve posed for a photo on his personal summit on the higher snowfield and then headed down on his own.

John quickly caught up with Dan and reached me as I was starting into the crux moves.

John lead through the crux, and the catwalk, and took these great photos.

After the crux section we were faced with a long open face ascent. Michael was way ahead of all of us (see the red circle on the photo), John ahead of me, and Dan a few minutes behind me. The wind seemed to increase as each of us summitted, in turn, and solo.

I touched the cairn and took my gloves off to take a summit panorama with my camera and also my Ipod. I couldn't even get the Ipod video to turn off because it was so cold the buttons weren't responding, which was the same problem I had with the camera. I literally "listened" for the camera click and then rotated and took another photo. I was holding on to both the camera and the Ipod tightly because of the wind. Excuse the fingers...(two improvements Apple, the placement of the lens and an attachment for an optional lanyard)...Turn the video off after 40 seconds...I'm fighting to turn it off for the rest of the time.

My Splattski shot for posterity with Borah's North Face in the background. As quick as I was in taking the photos and the video, I felt the beginning of the unmistakable numbing and loss of feeling that accompanies initial frostbite, unlike I've experienced before. I got my gloves on, did some quick windmills and headed down as quick as I could, passing Dan on his way up.

My hands warmed by the time I meet John who was seated on some rocks to wait for Dan. So I headed off to meet them down lower. The snow was great for plunge stepping and the descent was quick. With Michael having long gone, the three of us regrouped at the crux (this photo is of the other side of the catwalk to show that it dropped off on both sides). John lead. We retraced our steps and, thanks to Michael, had tracks for a slightly better down climb on the very lower end of the crux than what we had on the way up.

When we reached the snow fields it was too soft for glissading. Even the gully was a no-go, though lower down Dan took advantage of a little slide he found. We retraced our steps until we were again down into the canyon. At that point, John took off and Dan and I hiked back into camp together...and look at the great view of Mt. Borah we had from camp!

John reported this trip as 11 miles, while my gps is only claiming 9, but it felt every bit of 11 to me. We were gone 9 1/4 hrs car to car without much of a break all day. My heart rate monitor never registered anything, except running time, because my camelback blocked the signal all day and it was too cold to bother with it. I had water all the way up, but the small amount of time on the summit froze it for the rest of the day.

I didn't really even notice...Boy...what a great climb!

Thanks to all the IdahoSummits guys for such a great trip...Dan for your planning, John for your lead through the crux and tips, Steve for the great cooking, all of you for your humor and graciousness. If it turns out that I am the first woman on an IdahoSummits outing, then I am well beyond honored. You're a great group.

I uploaded all of my pictures, Pat's and John's photos as well (I gave you photo credits) to my Picasa site, where you can see them all together and the captions tell the story as well.

Dan's Trip Report

Dave's Trip Report

Splattski's Trip Report

Steve's Photos

Take a Google Earth Tour of our route

No. 65, South Wet Creek Peak, Lost River Range, Idaho

2009-10-04T10:46:00.000-07:00

I was hoping for another 2-fer weekend, because I've had three in a row and because I'm making up for a late mountaineering season. The goal today (9/27/09) was South Wet Creek Peak and Wet Creek Peak in the east end of the Lost River Range, accessed via Pass Creek summit. So with that in mind I asked a friend, Bryan, if he'd like to join me. He had done Mt. Borah a few times many years ago (and as I would find out this day, he hiked 13 miles the day before, geez). Well for a nice, introductory, non-Borah mountaineering experience, I probably couldn't have picked worse....10 miles round trip, and 4,100 elevation gain over 5 miles...but I have a tendency to not look at the "details" until after the climb. Regardless, having been in the basin two weeks before, I knew it could be a long approach, long day. So we took off on an early start, in crisp morning air, under a clear sky that promised to stay with us all day.

The approach started on developed Forest Service trails from the trail head through fir/pine forest to Bear Lake.

After the lake, most of the hike was through a sunshine-filled gully that was long and energy sapping. By this point we had seen 9 deer.

Having reached and crossed the relatively flat basin, it was time to make the final climb to the summit that, in this photo, is further back on the right-hand peak, out of view. It was on this approach that we saw a bighorn sheep, across the way, on the ridge of Hidden Peak.

It was later than I had hoped when we reached the summit, and timewise, I was concerned about going after the second peak. Bryan was already stretched out on the summit to watch me go it alone. Well, the gully had hammered me as well, and tempting as it was, I elected to pass on my 2-fer opportunity. We found a register with signatures back from 1992, so we added our names to that. Bryan took some fabulous photos on the summit for posterity; I took a sapphire (my nano's name) panorama; we had wine (the little 4-pack bottles are perfect for day hikes), cheese and crackers; and headed back down.

It's not everyone's thing, but I have tried to introduce willing adventurers to the mountains. So few people really get the opportunity, which I was fortunate to have been given in the 90s. The mountains are very spiritual for me and make my everyday problems sooo small when I see the enormity of God's handiwork in this beautiful State. I hope they become as special to others...at the very least they can say, "Hey, i climbed that." I am blessed to still be able to participate in this sport that I love so much. I never thought I'd have had the ability to summit 1, let alone 65 mountains...i wonder if i have 35 more in me...that would be cool.

Make that South Wet CREEK Peak and Wet CREEK Peak...kept forgetting the "creek" in the names.

New Peaks (Nos. 63 and 64) and Nano Panorama

2009-09-20T19:46:00.000-07:00

Today Margie, Maka and I climbed Black Pine Peak and Black Peak out of the Black Pine Mountains in southeast Idaho. More precisely...out of the Malta, Idaho, area. It was really, really windy and sunny. Probably 45-55 with chill. I was very close to digging out my winter hat and gloves. Had three light layers on top for the last 1/4 of the mountain, which i wasn't expecting. Nice workout though. The views weren't crystal clear with the wind and haze and particles about, but i got to try the video function on my new nano. It was soooooooo windy i thought it would fly outta my hand so I didn't fuss with it too much. This is the best video of the bunch. I'm sure the next generations will have even better functioning...that will be a quandry...i just got this one. If they can nail video AND have photo capability and still stay this small, it could replace a lot of cameras. Talk about ultralight.

I'm behind posting my summer summits. But i don't have the discipline to write the ones i am behind on first...I want to see how well the ipod video works because i'm just fascinated with the upgrades since my first generation ipod. By the way, between the gps, the camera, and the ipod, post-trip analysis/activities are begining to take longer than my pre-trip activities.

The Importance of Project Lists

2009-08-09T12:13:00.000-07:00

My girlfriend makes copious lists. Everytime i go over to her house there is at least one on the counter. She likes seeing how many things she can cross off. Not surprisingly, her house is immaculate, her lawn never gets out of hand, her life is ordered and nothing seems to get away from her. I used to do that. My house used to be immaculate, lawn manicured and lovely flowers, and my life neatly ordered. I was even told I was perfect.

So, on top of those lists, I started making other lists...what peaks i wanted to climb in the summer, how many bike rides i would do in a week, how many knitted projects i'd do in a year, how many new recipes i would try in a quarter, etc. So now i have 64 mountain summits under my feet, more knitted scarves both owned and given away than anyone should have, outlived at least 3 bike computers, a lawn full of quack grass and now baby weeds, clutter that I know I just took care of yesterday, and a missed doctor's appointment.

I appreciate the concept of balance, but I think it's a total myth. The best you can do is juggle, because something will always be in the air.

Unexpected Things, Part II.

2009-08-08T16:59:00.000-07:00

...and sometimes unexpected things are bittersweet, touching but painful. A very different type of special moment.

Unexpected Things

2009-08-05T19:51:00.000-07:00

I really struggle with the idea that God ever responds to my prayers. Too often he seemingly blatantly ignores my most burning of "Whys," "Why Nots," "What should I do," "Why didn't that work out?" or "What was I supposed to learn?" But sometimes the most unexpected of things happen...I mean really unexpected, and it makes me wonder if that wasn't, maybe, a part of one of one of the answers I was looking for. An unexpected thing happened to me yesterday and the day before...and they both truly made my day(s), made me smile, and made me think. Have you ever really thought about the unexpected things that have happened to you? No matter how small? Have you ever done something unexpected for someone else...you'd be surprised how little it takes to make someone's day, make them smile, and make them think...and remind them that life has some really special moments.

What's the Reason?

2009-08-03T20:04:00.001-07:00

What is the real reason to have a blog? To say you do? To prove to others you can? To impress others with your writing or thinking skills? To prove to yourself that you have purpose? To see how many people will like you and follow you? To be a part of something bigger than you...the world wide web? To show people that you've got a great life that they can only wish they have? To share your life's lessons learned to help others? To contribute to society? All of the above? None of the above? Some of the above? If you have a blog...what IS your purpose? If you don't have a blog, should you? Everyone has a story. Everyone has something to share. Everyone knows something that could help someone out. I think that's my purpose. But I admit, at anytime, i could fall into one of the aforementioned reasons. But hopefully not too often.