Wild columbines are much more dramatic than their domestic counterparts
There is, I think, a trail that leads more neatly to the base of Chair Peak, you can see it when you’re up there, but I took the Source Lake cutoff, and then just headed up the hill, burrowing up through the band of trees and out to the bowl beneath the mountain. Where there is still some snow there, hard and slick.
I was unsure about the route; the information from that Cool Trails website indicated that the easiest way was to the left, where Chair Peak joins Bryant, but it looked to me like the NE ridge was more reliable. So, I headed up there, and once I was on the rock, I changed into my rock shoes.
The climbing was fun. The rock on this ridge is extremely clean, no loose bits coming loose. I guess it’s climbed fairly frequently. At one point I got a bit off route, to the right and onto the N. Face, and that got more difficult in a hurry. Above me was an overhang, and I was pretty positive I wasn’t going to be able to deal with that. But, after a moment of despair, I backed down and got back on the route. The mosquitoes were pretty obnoxious; I can’t imagine how I didn’t think to bring bug repellent, but thought I’d need sunscreen. On the way up I passed three or four rappel anchors, including one that was bolted to the rock face.
2/3 of the way up, the angle kicks back, and there is heather and grass up there. The summit wasn’t that much further, after a bit of a traverse to the highest bit. I was there at 7:00.
There was no summit book, which was a disappointment, and I took a few photos despite the haze, and headed down about ten after.
I decided to descend the SE ridge, thinking that it might be quicker, and I was a little worried about time, and so I could get a look at it. It sucked. No, it blew. It blew chunks.
The whole route is paved with loose rocks, just everywhere, you can’t step without sending rocks down. Just below the summit, tragedy struck: somehow my Walkman, with tape #27 of the Books on Tape edition of War and Peace slipped from my pack where I'd clipped it. It just bounded down the mountain, all the way down to Lake Melaqua, I think. I managed to retrieve one battery, but that was it.
So, I rappelled down the first bit, from the first rappel station I came to, and that got me down to the shoulder between Chair and Bryant. It appears that this gully is the one you’d come up if you were to climb the mountain from Lake Malaqua. Then I had to jam the rope back into my pack and walk up over the shoulder, and three more raps took me to the base of the mountain.
These rap stations were just tangled nests of webbing, absolute messes, dozens of tangled slings. A more contientious climber would have cut away about half of them, the older ones, anyhow, leaving a neater and probably safer situation. I can see backing up an existing sling or two, but if there's already a dozen, do you really need to back them up for a rappel?
At one rap station, I dislodged an anvil-sized rock, which bashed down the gully, and (I discovered later) cut my rope, lopping off about ten feet from one end. It was remarkable; I’ve heard of that happening, but didn’t think it would ever happen to me.
In all, it took about an hour to do the descent, not nearly as fast as I’d hoped. If you find yourself up here, rappel the NE Buttress.
And, it turns out that the figure 8 tangles up the rope very badly. It may be okay for descending down near-vertical faces, but for this the rope got pretty messy towards the end of the rap each time. I'd used the figure 8 before, and dealt with the tangles, but never on a series of rappels.
At the base of the last rappel, I jammed my rope into my pack. I didn’t bother taking my seat harness off; I wanted to get down the scramble first. So, down I went, sliding down the snowfield on my hands and feet. I found a couple of cairns which I followed, and dropped down the hillside, through what appeared to be the same tunnel in the trees as I’d climbed up. I could see a trail heading over to Snow Lake, I’m pretty sure that trail would have taken me down, but I didn’t feel like I had any time to waste taking chances, so I headed on down the way I’d come up. Along the way as I descended, I talked out loud to the bears about how they might think I’d be good eating, and though my meat is probably a lot more marbled than most climbers’ in the long run it would be bad for them because the hunters would come and all that, and I kept rambling on as the darkness descended.
Remarkably, I managed to come down exactly the way I’d come up, ending up at the waterfall and scree slope up which I’d climbed. I saw the trail before me, beckoning me on, and kept promising myself, I just have to get to the trail, and I’m home free. Just a hundred feet more. Just fifty feet more.
Then, just as I got to the trail, and figured I had it made, I stepped on a rock that twisted my right ankle. Hard. I collapsed, feeling for a couple of seconds like that was it, I was nailed, I'll be here all night, until the cougars find me and eat me. After thirty seconds or so, I got up, and was able to proceed. This was maybe the first step I took on the trail, right at 9:00.
The walk out was pretty uneventful. I was talking, to keep the bears away and to give myself something to do. I stopped at one point and dug out my headlamp, which I carried without using as far as I could. It wasn’t until the last quarter mile or less that I needed it.
Got to the car about 9:40. 2:40 up, 2:30 down.
Equipment notes: as a result of this climb, I got rid of my figure-8, and got myself an ATC. It works wonderfully, and my rope doesn't tangle when I rappel anymore! Get one.