Palisade Traverse: Spring Attempt
The Palisades are the most rugged and “alpine” ridge on the High Sierra crest. The climb is an all day affair if you're lucky enough to be blessed with conditions that will allow you to move quickly. This classic traverse covers five of the fifteen tallest peaks in California with a high point of 14,248 feet and rock climbing up to 5.9 in difficulty. The traverse as we approached it starts at Thunderbolt Peak and continues to Starlight, North Palisade, Polemonium and ends on Mt. Sill. Depending on conditions however, snow and ice climbing skills are required and that's exactly what we found when we peaked our head over the ridge on the approach and the Palisade Range finally came into view.
I stopped at Bake Sale Betty's before picking up Kat and Shannon and heading out of town at around 2pm on Friday afternoon. The roads were jammed with Memorial Day traffic but my mouth was jammed with the deliciousness of the best chicken sandwich ever made so I didn't seem to mind the congestion very much. Shannon being a vegi however, I bought her the strawberry shortcake. Must be a tough life for those vegetarians. Once the traffic cooled off, we hit Tioga Pass and made it to Glacier Lodge outside of the town of Big Pine by 9 pm. We all knew the drill and went to work setting out pads and sleeping bags on the blue tarp that is my bedroom for most of the weekends between April and October in California.
I stopped at Bake Sale Betty's before picking up Kat and Shannon and heading out of town at around 2pm on Friday afternoon. The roads were jammed with Memorial Day traffic but my mouth was jammed with the deliciousness of the best chicken sandwich ever made so I didn't seem to mind the congestion very much. Shannon being a vegi however, I bought her the strawberry shortcake. Must be a tough life for those vegetarians. Once the traffic cooled off, we hit Tioga Pass and made it to Glacier Lodge outside of the town of Big Pine by 9 pm. We all knew the drill and went to work setting out pads and sleeping bags on the blue tarp that is my bedroom for most of the weekends between April and October in California.
The next morning we were slow to wake up and make coffee but we still managed to be on the trail by 7:50 am. We knew Sunday morning was going to be a true alpine start so we didn't want to push it too hard Saturday morning as well. The trail had dramatically less snow than it did 3 months earlier and I enjoyed pointing out milestones such as where we put on our snowshoes in February and where we got shut down by the ankle-breaking talus field covered in light snow.
After 8.5 miles we started up the switchbacks to Sam Mack Meadow and so began the occasionally aggravating instance of post-holing. If you're not familiar, this is when you're walking on top of the snow and suddenly find yourself with one leg buried below your thigh with the lovely task of removing yourself from the hole with 80 lbs on your back. Basically no fun at all.
We arrived at our high camp a little after 4 pm, ascending close to 5000 ft of elevation. I think we all struggled up the last snow field, stopping on occasion to wonder why it was so hard to breath. I found a cold and somewhat flat slab of granite to set up the tent and we settled in for a sleepless night at 12,300 feet. We started melting snow for water to prepare for the big climb the next day and quickly realized that we didn't bring enough gas. Luckily, I had my iodine tablets with us and found a puddle in the granite that offered snow pre-melted by the afternoon sun. Unfortunately however, along with forgetting enough gas to melt snow, we also forget to bring enough wag-bags for the three of us for two days. When you're at altitude, you burn through more calories just so you can stay warm let alone keep your body fueled up for long days of interminable activity. We quickly realized the problem once we settled into camp and finished dinner. Luckily, Kat is both resourceful and disgustingly creative and came up with the "Full-Circle Mountain House". Yep, you guessed it. They were the only bags we had, so every day after dinner when we had a new bag available, one at a time we would slip behind the granite ridge and recycle the Mountain House bag and return its contents back to its place of origin. Full circle. Conversations in the tent then ranged from how sick the climb would be to whether to hold the MH bag down low or right up against your ass while you squatted in the 30 degree temperatures.
We all shared my 2 person tent so not only was it cozy, but it was warm. I brought my zero degree bag but I slept on top of it or unzipped for the entire trip. That Saturday night we were in bed before it got dark. I set the alarm for 4 am and I tossed and turned and occasionally slept for an hour or two anticipating the climb ahead.
I probably woke up before the alarm went off. We all probably did. The team (Kip and Tristen) that camped out next to us was going up Mt. Sill and they woke up before us and were up and about preparing for their climb. I wasn't about to get out of bed a second earlier than 4 am but I also couldn't sleep. Finally the alarm did go off and we all went about our duty, boiling water for coffee, packing cams and ice screws into packs and putting on layer after layer as we left the warm and cozy tent.
Once we were all prepared, we left camp, hiking up and around the ridge to where Trevor was camped. He had come in the night before right before we went to bed and apparently didn't have the motivation to traverse the last quarter mile from where he popped over the ridge to our camp site. I don't blame him. He was supposed to rope up with Kat, but when we got to his bivy, he stuck his head out and gave us the obvious look at the he wasn't about to start climbing at this hour. In fact, he had done the entire approach in approach shoes. Now I know that sounds like it would be appropriate, but approach shoes are basically sneakers with climbing rubber on the bottom and his were soaking wet from all the snow. Normally this would have been a good idea and it cuts down on the weight, however since all the snow had just covered the range a few days before, there was no way in hell anyone was going to climb a snow and ice couloir and not get frostbite from the cold. After Trevor succumbed to his wardrobe malfunction, Kat was the next to give the look of defeat about 10 minutes further along the ridge on the way to the Underhill Couloir. She was feeling the altitude, getting dizzy and not trusting her feet. One look at the menacing couloir ahead of us and it was the right decision to throw in the towel before you really put yourself in danger. Climbing is all about knowing when to push yourself and knowing when to back off or bail and normally it's a lot like a relationship. It's about trusting your instincts, doing things when you're afraid to sometimes and backing down when you know in your gut that it's what you should be doing. Especially when it comes to altitude, she made the right call.
Shannon and I carried on after that, feeling good and feeling comfortable being roped in together. At this point we've roped in together enough to know each other pretty well and I felt right about this climb and our abilities. We started up the couloir, plunging our ice tools into the snow, gripping the adze and the pick, the bottom of the axe drilling deep into the snow. We made about 200 feet of progress this way until the snow got harder and the degree steepened. At this point I began swinging my tool, pick first, and driving it into the frozen snow as if I was ice climbing. I hugged the right side of the shoot and plugged in rock pro every 30 feet or so to keep at least one piece between us as we simuled (climbing at the same time) the snow.
This went on for a long time, the top of the notch growing closer until we came to the last 10 or 15 feet. It was a mix of snow, ice and rock and it steepened out to vertical. At this point the fun really started and I dry-tooled the rock with the pick in my right hand, clung onto the rock with my left and stemmed both feet out wide, my crampons digging into the chossy rock. I swung high into the hard snow and worked my feet higher until I was greeted by the amazing spectrum of mountains hiding behind the notch of the ridge.
This went on for a long time, the top of the notch growing closer until we came to the last 10 or 15 feet. It was a mix of snow, ice and rock and it steepened out to vertical. At this point the fun really started and I dry-tooled the rock with the pick in my right hand, clung onto the rock with my left and stemmed both feet out wide, my crampons digging into the chossy rock. I swung high into the hard snow and worked my feet higher until I was greeted by the amazing spectrum of mountains hiding behind the notch of the ridge.
We plopped our butts down into the snow at the top of the notch, the snow covered crags of Starlight Peak on one side and the snowy blanket to the other covering the third-class slabs that would usually be easy climbing up to the 5.6 chimney pitch on Thunderbolt. After a dose of Shot Blocks and some water, I racked up for the climb. Shannon would later give me shit for jumping on lead because she wanted the pitch, but I guess I was excited and she just didn't speak up. The slabs were a fun new type of climbing that consisted of using one arm as if it was a windshield wiper to clean the snow off the slab until you found a crack. Then I would dig the snow out of the crack until it was deep enough for a hand jam. When I needed to place a cam, I would pull out the nut tool and start chipping away the ice until it was bare granite although it wasn't that difficult even with the snow and I didn't place all that much gear. At the top of the slab you hit a ridge and it was a quick scramble until Shannon was yelling at me that I was out of rope and I quickly needed to make an anchor.
The next pitch started by moving to the right of our belay and working a detached flake as if it were a handrail until I found myself under a small roof. I peaked my head around the corner and looked up at a twin crack system. I also unfortunately looked down at no feet and only one place to put my boot high out of reach. I placed my yellow alien and started up. Backing off once and then twice I took my nuts off my rack and backed up the alien with a small stopper. Feeling confident, I worked into the Bombay move jamming my entire left hand, ski glove and all, deep into the far crack. Next my right hand followed suit and I immediately found myself doing a pull-up until I could reach the high foot placement. My adrenaline running at full speed now, I kept moving up the crack until it mellowed out onto a less than vertical snow field which led to the obvious 5.6 chimney. With lots of features on the right side of the chimney it was more of a flared out corner than a chimney really and I stemmed my way up again finding edges on the left to test the rubber of my mountaineering boots on. At the top I again found a snow field again leading to a slotted corner, but this one I knew would be the last, the distinct shape of the lighting rod summit looming over me now. I made the move and there I found myself, sitting at the base of the lighting rod with all of my cams placed on the pitch I had just climbed and nothing left on my harness but a few nuts. Fortunately there was a crack between the lighting rod and the block next to it. Unfortunately it was filled with ice and it took me a good ten minutes to chip away enough so I could properly set the nuts. Shannon then followed and made quick work of the cleaning and in no time she was sitting next to me at 14,200 feet.
Looking around the summit after our celebration, we found no rap station; no bolts, no slings, no tat, no chains. Everything was covered in snow. We got ourselves up this mountain and now it was time to get ourselves down. I pulled out my cordage and put a slipknot in it and wrapped a block. After testing it, we decided that a Plan B was in order so we found a hourglass formed by the corners of two large blocks sitting one atop the other with no space in between. I wrapped the cordage around the blocks four times, tied a triple fishermen's and pulled two strands to give us a "wrap four, pull two" anchor. I rappelled down first taking Shannon's cordage with me for our next rap station. We had seen some green webbing while leading up the second pitch but the question was whether we would make it down far enough or not. We unfortunately didn't and had to use more cordelette wrapping a horn this time. We did make it to the green tat on the third rappel and I plopped my butt down in the snow, enjoying the view while Shannon made the rap.
The next task at hand was to make our descent down the Underhill Couloir. We knew it had taken us a long time to get up so we knew it would take an even longer time to get down. I pulled out the two 4 ft runners from my bag that I had brought specifically for the purpose of "burn gear" (gear that is old and can be left when bailing). At the top however, I wrapped a horn with a 2 ft runner, saving the longer slings for lower in the couloir and we started our rappels. It took us seven in total before we down-climbed the last 200 or so feet of snow. We used three 2 ft runners and both 4 ft runners, along with two nuts. We also found two slings already placed which we used wholeheartedly.
After rapping off of one of those stations, I found myself with no option but to built an anchor with the two nuts. Shannon heard me doing it and she called down "are you building an anchor". "Yes" I replied! She rapped down next and stood next to me, not yet off rappel, eyeing the nuts before personalling into the anchor.
At this moment I somehow lost my footing and slipped, knocking into her and fully shock-loading the two-nut anchor with a factor 2 fall. I looked at her as I stood back up and with an adrenaline-laced smirk on my face I let her know that the two nut anchor works perfectly well. She smiled and we continued on.
At this moment I somehow lost my footing and slipped, knocking into her and fully shock-loading the two-nut anchor with a factor 2 fall. I looked at her as I stood back up and with an adrenaline-laced smirk on my face I let her know that the two nut anchor works perfectly well. She smiled and we continued on.
After the three rappels on the snowy crags above the couloir and the seven in the couloir, we finally came to the last one, plunging our tools into the snow and clipping into them before running the last foot of rope through the ATC. At some point during the rappels I looked down to seen A LOT of snow and sluff picking up speed down the couloir and gaining momentum. For the purposes of this blog and for the sake of my poor mother I won't call it an avalanche. I'll call it snow moving fast created by me rappelling down a steep slope. When I saw what I did, I looked up at Shannon and she yelled down "Yes I see it, now get the fuck down!". Because of this, the late hour, warm conditions and the couloir's reputation, we moved quickly now unroped and got to the base before lunge-stepping our way down in the soft afternoon snow for the remainder of the slope.
Once again we didn't accomplish our objective of completing the Palisade Traverse from Thunderbolt to Mt. Sill but we did have fun climbing Thunderbolt. The good thing about mountains is that they will always be there, year after year, waiting for your next trip with the perfect conditions, great weather and good friends to share them with. That night we shared our whiskey bladder with Kip and Tristen, found ourselves some empty Mountain House bags and enjoyed the warm weather inside of our cozy tent; satisfied with the day.