Recommended reading
The thing about climbing in the northwest is that there’s lots of of climbing to do, but lots of time where the weather isn't conducive to climbing, so you end up sitting around a lot thinking about climbing but being unable to do it. The obvious (to people like me) answer is reading a lot of books about climbing.
There’s hundreds of climbing books out there; these are some of the more obvious ones that are germane to the Northwest, and which really impressed me for whatever reason.
Some of the books in the "Background" section are out of print, but they’re available through the King County Library.
Guidebooks and Instructional Books
Cascade Alpine Guides, Vol 1, 2, & 3, by Fred Beckey. Well, obviously. The encyclopedias of cascade routes.
Selected Climbs in the Cascades, vol 1 and 2, by Jim Nelson and Peter Potterfield.
In some ways, better than CAG; these books focus on particular climbs rather than the encyclopedic approach Beckey uses. In particular, the approach information can be more accurate and detailed than CAG. There's a wide variety of routes in these books, from moderate walk-ups like Ruth Mountain to committing climbs like Backbone Ridge on Dragontail. Volume two is about half sport and crag climbs.
Climbing Washington's Mountains by Jeff Smoot. Somewhere between Beckey's and Nelson's books. A list of 100 mountains, mostly describing the easiest routes up them. Has really excellent line drawings of the summit routes, and very good area maps. One big problem with Beckey's guides is that it's often difficult to figure out just where a mountain is.
75 Scrambles in Washington, by Peggy Goldman. Focusing on, well, scrambles, stuff like Pilchuck, Kaleetan, and Church Mountain. Each route includes GPS waypoints, maps, and other information.
Climbers Guide to the Olympic Mountains, by The Mountaineers and Olympic Climbing Rescue.
Oregon High, by Jeff Thomas. I check this out from the library every time I do Mt. Hood. Eventually I'll climb something else in Oregon, and I'll probably feel compelled to buy it. I keep hearing there's a new edition on the way, though...
Classic Climbs of the Northwest, by Alan Kearney. What sets this book apart is that each climb includes an account of an outing of his on that route. Like the "Selected climbs" series, it's a selection of climbs that stand out for the author.
Freedom of the Hills by The Mountaineers. The "all in one" book of instructional books, covers nearly every aspect of climbing. I guess it's the textbook for the Mountaineers courses, and it's become fashionable to look down one's nose at them, but this is the best all-in-one book I know about.
Beyond Backpacking, by Ray Jardine. The guru of the "ultralight" movement. Certainly worth reading, and thinking about his ideas, even if you like to bring along the portable espresso maker.
Extreme Alpinism: Climbing Light, Fast, and High, by Mark Twight. Whether you personally care for his approach to climbing (and life), there's a LOT to learn from in this book.
Mountaineering First Aid, by The Mountaineers. You NEED to have, and to read and understand, this book.
Glacier Travel and Crevasse Rescue, by Andy Selters. Much of this is in Freedom of the Hills but it's important enough information to have it set apart, particularly the rescue techniques and diagrams.
Knots and Ropes for Climbers, by Duane Raleigh. Very good illustrations (by Mike Clelland) of the knots in question, how to tie them and when to use them, and what to avoid, and a good discussion of rope safety. Twight's book discusses the technical details of what makes a good rope more thoroughly, but this is an fine fundimentals book. (It'd be even better if the binding made it easier for the book to lay open while you attempt to tie the knots.)
Background books
The Challenge of the North Cascades, by Fred Beckey. A classic in every sense of the word.
An Ice Ax, a Camera, and a Jar of Peanut Butter, by Ira Spring. The autobiography of one of the premier northwest outdoor photographers.
Climbing with Sasha, by Warren Guntheroth. A delightful book by a local climber and pediatrician, describing his experiences climbing with his Siberian Husky.
Pilchuck : the Life of a Mountain, by Harry Higman.
Sort of an oddity, this book was published in 1949, and reads like it. Still, it’s got some interesting background about Mt. Pilchuck, about glacial activity, the flora and fauna of the Cascade mountains in general and Pilchuck in particular.
The North Cascades National Park, photos by Bob and Ira Spring, text by Harvey Manning.
This is a fascinating book, both the photos and the text. The most interesting (to me) chapters are concerned with enjoying the outdoors with children: one chapter recounts his climbing on Glacier Peak with his three daughters – at the time between 5 and 11. It took a week, and they eventually summitted Pumice Peak. When I read the book, I had recently done a one-day climb of Glacier Peak, (and was about to become a father for the 2nd time) and it really opened my mind to what you can do with kids in the wilderness.
Mountaineering Essays, by John Muir.
Not exclusively northwest-oriented, but it does include his essay on climbing Mt. Rainier, which ought to be required reading. (my son's middle name is Muir, after John Muir.)
The Challenge of Rainier, by Dee Molenaar. The definitive study of Rainier, the history, geography, climbing routes and faces, and his wonderful drawings, which somehow manage to be more detailed and informative than photos would be.
Mountain Fever, by Aubrey L. Haines.
This is a fascinating book about the early days of Mt. Rainier climbing, from the early apocryphal expeditions through the formation of Mount Rainier National Park. It puts a lot of current climbing into perspective: how many modern climbers would haul a load of firewood up to camp Muir? “Everyone” knows that the first climbers spent the night on the summit, but I didn’t know that overnighting on the summit was just a regular part of climbing Rainier for the first few decades.
Measure of a Mountain, by Bruce Barcott. Another book about Rainier. This book looks at the mountain from a non-climber's point of view. Excellent chapters on rebuilding the meadows (that six-inch high heather might be 20 years old) and on "Arial Plankton" and the best discussion I've read of the tragic military airplane crash into the Tacoma Glacier in 1946. That he ultimately, reluctantly, climbs it, and still doesn't see the point of climbing it only increases the book's appeal to me.
Cascade Voices; Conversations with Washington Mountaineers, by Malcom S. Bates.
Fascinating interviews with dozens of climbers from the early days of cascade climbing to the current generation, including Wickwire, Beckey, Nelson, Molenaar, and a number of others I'd never heard of. VERY worthwhile, nearly every page has a quote you'll want to remember. The the guys who did the original Ptarmigan Traverse never publicized what they'd done; it wasn't until other people pieced together their summits that it became known. Grene Prater became a specialist in first winter ascents because he was a farmer, and you can't take much time off during the summer to go climbing.
The Good Rain, by Timothy Egan. Not so much a climbing book (aside from the chapter entitled “Looking for Beckey”) but the book is structured around the experiences of Theodore Winthrop, who came through the northwest in 1853 and for whom the Winthrop Glacier on Mt. Rainier is named.
Discovering Washington's Historic Mines, volume 1, by Northwest Underground Explorations. Another non-climbing book, but a fascinating guidebook and history of mines in the cascades. At least two volumes of the eventual four-volume set are now out. It includes descriptions of mines, diagrams of the mine, and warnings like this appear remarkably frequently: "The left fork was in the process of being blasted when mining was discontinued. The final charge of dynamite is still in the blasting holes: UNFIRED. Do not, under any circumstances, touch or in any way disturb this material. Old explosives become touchy; if you set off the dynamite, you will be blown to bits!"
Koma Kulshan: the story of Mount Baker, by John Miles.
The history of climbing, exploration, mining, and development around Mt. Baker, including an account of the short-lived Mount Baker Marathon.
Fire & Ice: The Cascade Volcanoes, by Stephen L Harris.
Background reading. I found that after I climbed a volcano for the first time, I'd go back and reread the chapter on that mountain, and get a lot more out of it. My edition was published in 1980, weeks before Mt. St. Helens blew up, one of the most poorly timed publishings in history, since it discusses how the mountain "is becoming more active."
Poets on the peaks: Gary Snyder, Philip Whalen & Jack Kerouac in the North Cascades, by John Suiter.
A different view of the Cascades. Not a hard-man climbing book, but a pretty interesting story, adding local color to part of America's mystical (to me) past.
Other climbing-related books
There's a million of 'em out there. Here are a few I especially liked.
Banner in the Sky, by James Ramsey Ullman.
The first climbing book I ever read. I was in gradeschool, and consumed it as just another adventure book. I've remembered it, and thought about it from time to time, unable to remember the title, until I finally came across it recently, and re-read it. It's written for a juvenile audience, of course, but it may have, in some way, planted that seed in my brain.
Touching the Void , by Joe Simpson.
The first climbing book I ever read as an adult, I think, loaned to me by a co-worker after my first Rainier climb. Two climbers set off to climb a new ridge on a mountain in the Andes. The author breaks his leg, falls into a crevasse, and his partner has to cut him loose to save himself. I read it over a decade ago, but I still can't put on a pair of crampons without thinking about how the crampon on author's broken leg would catch on his other pants leg twisting it... aarugh!
It's famous again because of the movie, and while I'm glad Simpson is getting a wider exposure because of it, I worry that it plays into the "romance with danger" that so many people think climbing is all about.
Annapurna, by Maurice Herzog. The first ascent of an 8000-meter peak, in true heroic style. Much of the story has been deflated by the recent True Summit by David Roberts, but what remains is that this small group of climbers went into the Himalayas with very poor maps, determined to climb whichever mountain proved to be more accessible. This was the first attempt on Annapurna, and involved finding the route to the mountain (and mapping new ridges and rivers) as well as finding the best route to the summit, climbing, and descending safely.
The Last Step: The American Ascent of K2, by Rick Ridgeway. A relentlessly fascinating book about the 1978 expedition that put four Americans on the summit -- three of them without supplimental oxygen, and includes the story of Wickwire's bivouac just below the summit.
In the Throne Room of the Mountain Gods, by Galan Rowell. An account of the ill-fated 1975 American attempt on K2. Really well written, one of the first "warts and all" expedition accounts.
First on Everest, by Tom Holzel and Audrey Salkeld. The first I'd read about Mallory and Irvine, written years before Mallory's body was found on the north ridge. It really fired my imagination, and put the accomplishments of those early climbers in perspective. And the photos -- they look like Monte Python skits, these guys dressed in wool blazers and puttees, at 24,000 feet!
Mountain Light, by Galan Rowell. More about photography than climbing, but it's a wonderful book. He takes a particular photograph of his, and explains in several paragraphs, what went into creating the picture. Often the text is as fascinating as the photograph. His death last year was a tragic loss to the world.
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