John pointing out the face of Colchuck peak to Colin.
Colchuck Peak, Northeast Couloir attemt
With John S. and Colin H. Sunday, Apr 22, 2001
A couple of quick stops for coffee and later for a gatorade and potty stop, and we were at the trailhead. The campground, actually, the road was closed, adding an unfortunate 3 miles to the march in. It was annoying, because it was completely bare and dry (and well-drained) up to the last half mile or so. There’s a lot of fire damage still in evidence over across the valley; dead trees standing, and charred rock outcroppings.
It was a couple hours of hiking up to the lake; not very interesting, but at one point there was an open field where we could see the north side of Stuart, with the ice cliff glacier, etc.
The lake was frozen over, and from here it got pretty nice. The mountains, Colchuck and Dragontail, arc around the south and west side of the lake, with Asgard Pass and Colchuck Couloir spread out there like an illustration out of a route book.
We walked across the lake, nice and smooth and flat, and left out snowshoes and ski poles behind. On the other side, there was a lot of punching through holes, until we got up onto the glacier.
We were headed up the NW Couloir, which involves crossing over some fairly steep snow, up and over to the base of the couloir.
Unfortunately, the snow was pretty low, and halfway up the couloir our way was blocked by a big chockstone. We hung out under that rock and stressed about it, and finally decided it was just not smart without a rope. For one thing, we’d be totally committed, there’s no way we could downclimb it. So we opted to turn back. Which was okay, since the weather was getting a little crummy and it was late in the day.
Colin wasn't too happy about it, but I said that it always makes points with the wife when you tell her "I didn't summit because it didn't look safe to us." John, married too, agreed. Colin, still in high school, didn't have that perspective.
Heading down the snow face, it feels an awfully lot steeper descending than it did going up. The hike out sure felt longer than the hike in, at least to the road. I was getting a bit impatient about the snow, and punching through (Colin weighs 120 pounds; with my pack, I’m sure I was a good 100 pounds heavier.) Then, the long, long walk out on the road for another hour or more.
Once at the car, my feelings of the interminable distance of the climb just dissipated. I didn’t even feel all that tired. We changed, and drove in to town for a burger at Gustav's. On the drive in to town, John was pointing out to Colin these various climbs, just reciting them like a guidebook; "see up there? That's Classic Crack. Up by that overhang? It's a real clean 5.8 on the first part, and 5.7 on the top, and a walk off." Just one after another. It was pretty remarkable, it reminded me of the discussion in Life on the Mississippi (which I'd just finished) of how the pilot has to know every foot of the river, how you make the turn at Johnson’s woodpile, and so on. It impressed me that he knows that much verbatim.br The drive home is always too long. It’s certainly convenient that I didn’t have to drive; John drove the whole way. And, I got to listen to some interesting music, a band named Spearhead, with surprisingly mature lyrics.
Home around 10:00.
Equipment notes: I finally bought a big internal frame pack, a Lowe Netherworld 70-liter pack, and took it on this outing, mostly to try it out. It is big, but it's heavy too. I don't know why a pack has to weigh over 5 pounds, but I guess if I ever head up to Alaska, I'll be ready.