Thunderbolt to Sill Winter Attempt
The Thunderbolt Peak to Mt. Sill traverse is a super classic prize for any alpinist, mostly climbed in the summer. Norman Clyde made the first ascent, traversing the ridge of three 14,000 ft peaks starting at Thunderbolt Peak and scrambling over Starlight to North Palisade. In 1958, John Orhenshcall and John Mathias, the same partner team to first put up V-notch, took Clyde's epic traverse one step further by adding Polemonium Peak and Mt. Sill. Not until recently was this coveted climb attempted and successfully completed in the winter. Attempting such a climb in the winter takes more than just skill and ability; it takes luck. With the ridge covered in snow you need enough of it to traverse safely. Without enough snow, you're simply left with icy holds and ice filled cracks. Not only do you need enough snow for the climb, but you need enough for the approach as we were to find out. Not only enough snow is important however. You need the right kind of snow to fall at the right time. Without all of this the climb simply won't happen. So why try? Well that's easy, someone has to.
Shannon and I were on the road by 2pm on Friday, winding our way across the backroads of the Central Valley and up to Carson Pass. We made it to Glacier Lodge high above the Owens Valley town of Big Pine by 10pm, set up our tent and pulled out the map. The campsite was deserted for all but one party bivied in the back of a green Tacoma with a shell, something you see often in these parts. They apparently were headed down the South Fork after finding no snow in the White Mountains. Shannon and I on the other hand were headed up the North Fork trail toward Sam Mack Meadow, a 8.5 mile hike gaining 3500 ft of elevation leaving you at the base of the North Palisade.
We started out by 9am, tramping up the high desert trail that was uncharacteristically not covered in snow. By 10:30 we were over Second Falls and into the Mirth, an expanse of lush high country meadows dotted with Aspen groves. Snow started to appear on the trail and it wasn't until we hit First Lake that we dawned the snowshoes.
From here a series of switchbacks led us up to Second Lake and not surprisingly to Third Lake where the Glacier Trail split from the Bakker Trail. We continued our hike, tredgeing continuously up, our heavy packs reminding us of their presence on our shoulders mollified only by the sight of Temple Crag over my left shoulder with this amazing couloir almost screaming at me to climb in and try the alpine ice.
Further up the trail you finally come to a creek that you cross to make the final half mile ascent up a pass pinnacling at Sam Mack Meadow. We crossed the creek and started through a meadow only to find deep unconsolidated snow waist deep that our snowshoes would simply punch right through. With this we went into full on trench warfare boroughing our way across the meadow and up onto the buried talus that again caused us nothing but problems.
We back-tracked a few times having to repeat the trench warfare exercise all over again after strategizing a new plan of attack. We eventually settled on the idea of heading straight up through the talus field trying to stay on top of the snow by walking on the brush that sometimes popped out of the heavy snow. This worked somewhat well until we got to a barren section only 10 meters shy of a wooded area that would have given us relief from the talus. We tried it and punched through with a trekking pole exposing a hole right down between the talus. We tried again but it was hopeless. There was no way to safely make it up the last .5 miles of the trail to Sam Mack Meadow without a broken leg. Looking at the time and the sun long set over Mt. Robinson, we back-tracked again setting up camp next to the creek so we had a source of fresh water without having to melt snow.
That night the wind shook the tent as a storm randomly dumped five new inches of snow on top of our thin shelter, burying our boots and our packs.
The plan, formulated as we were tent-bound, was to try again the next day, using the GPS to track our position with relation to the exact trail as we moved through the snow. This of course all went to shit as we woke up to wet boots, wet bags, wet packs and spindrift coming off of every peak making even the thought of climbing any of these peaks impossible. Before we broke camp however, there was one problem; the bear hang that we had put up more for the Mountain Lion tracks we spotted than the hibernating bears, was frozen to the branch. We cut plastic from our wag-bags to line our boots and I put on my harness and crampons preparing to climb the tree. With no solid climbable branches, the only way I was going to get the food bag and satisfy my hitherto unsatisfied need for coffee was to put my arborist skills to use. The crampons would serve as tree spikes and I used two girth-hitched runners as a buck strap. As I made my way up the fir tree I would sling one buck strap around the tree and connect it to itself, securing me to the tree as I walked my crampons up higher so I could sling the other buck strap higher in the tree. I repeated this process until I was 25 feet up and could reach the damn frozen bear hang. After freeing the food bag, I used the rope to rappel down. Only then did I get to enjoy my coffee on such a cold morning.
We packed up and headed back, the spindrift over my back shoulder taunting me while at the same time I tried to memorize every detail of its beauty as if my eyes didn't quite believe what they were seeing. We stripped off layers as we hiked back, starting the day buried in snow and finally ending with the sun cooking our skin back at the trailhead as we dried out our gear.
That evening we headed to the hot springs only to have Loren and Toni pull up a minute after we started to soak. We bunked up with them at The Pit outside of Bishop that night and head up to Lake Sabrina the next morning for a run. The road was closed just past Aspendell so we suited up and headed up the 7% grade towards Lake Sabrina. When we got there we found the lake half empty and we were able to crest the shore and run right through the lake. We did finally get to what remained of the lake and with the white craggy mountains sitting sentinel above Sabrina, this was truly a beautiful spot.