Wilderness Sports Conditioning
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Wilderness Sports Conditioning |
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About Us > Adventures > Silverstar Silver Star (8,876’) via Silver Star Glacier June 4-5, 2005
With forecasts for nice weather Saturday (6/4/05), deteriorating to showers on Sunday, Doug and I decided at the last minute to change our group’s destination from Mt. Baker to Silver Star, a basic alpine climb farther east, to increase our chance of success. We left Seattle Saturday at 6:15 a.m. and convoyed up I-5 toward Arlington, taking the shorter route up to and then east on SR 20, the North Cascades Highway. One party member had returned home to retrieve boots, and others were meeting us at various points along the way. At 9:30 a.m. all of our Mountaineers members (Michelle, Doug, Courtenay, Vlad, Kathryn, Debra, Monica, Jay, Mike, Dan, David, and Bill) reached the pull-off beyond the hairpin turn east of Washington Pass (mile marker 166) and unloaded boots, packs, ropes and gear. Our initial plan was for all of us to reach base camp, stow our overnight equipment, and summit late that afternoon, then have a leisurely Sunday morning return to the car. Around 10:30 a.m. we started down the road to pick up the climber’s trail dropping left through the boulder field and meandering through the woods to the stream, where we scouted for the best way to cross. In 2000, we headed far right and shimmied up a steeply pitched log; this time we found a wide, dry log with a few branches here and there as hand holds. A word from the not-so-wise: cross the logs one person at a time! The reverberation from too many people crossing at once caused Kathryn to pitch into the river. Fortunately, she was not hurt, and Dan was able to retrieve her trekking pole before it got too far downstream. She took a few minutes to wring out her socks and dump her boots, then, in relatively good spirits, continued uphill with us, drying quickly in the balmy weather. We continued to make our way left, and farther left still – my gut was telling me we should have been able to pick up the “well-marked trail” directly on the other side of the river – but through a mis-communication about a GPS reading one of the students took, we somehow ended up two ridges left of the desired one. Taking a bearing at the cars would have prevented much of our off-route travel. However, everyone remained in pretty good spirits, even the party member who needed help re-distributing pack weight at our lunch spot. Once we bushwacked our way up to what should have been camp around 6400’elevation, we discovered our mistake and could see a bench two ridges over that looked like where we were supposed to camp. We had to traverse far right and descend 100 feet to finally locate level ground for tents. Earlier Doug and I had agreed that 3 p.m. should be our latest possible departure time from camp if we wanted to reach the summit that afternoon. Once we reached camp, several climbers were in need of water. After an initial scouting of the surroundings, we had no luck finding snow or trickling water nearby. By that time it was 3 p.m. Out of necessity we opted for plan B: set up camp, find the nearest water source and replenish our group’s supply, enjoy a leisurely dinner, and complete the climb in the morning. Bill was not feeling well and decided he would sleep in the next morning. We quickly set up tents and changed into warmer clothing. Five of us agreed to form two groups to search for water. Vlad, Michelle and Dan headed off to the right, toward a large boulder field, while David and I continued straight up the hiking trail until we reached a dry snow patch, then picked up a rightward traverse to see if any other snow fingers would yield water. Two ravines over, I could hear a very faint trickle somewhere above us. We climbed a little higher until I spotted a rivulet forming a small puddle disappearing quickly into the rocks, small but ample enough for us to stick a filter into it. We quickly filled 8 water bottles, drank a full liter apiece, and radioed to the threesome that we had found water. Being the one to “discover” water for the group almost made up for us being off route most of the day. I could only begin to imagine what most pioneers must have felt decades ago when climbing a peak for the first time. We relaxed into early evening, ate dinner as a group, and then half of us participated in an impromptu yoga demonstration that turned into more of a “can you do this” and “how long can you hold that” contest. The sun remained with us on into the evening, turning into a clear starlit night with no wind to speak of. This was my very first overnight apart from my one-year-old daughter, so sleep was long in coming and incredibly short to stay. Each time I woke up I was convinced that 150 miles away in Seattle my little girl was waking up and needing her mommy. I was almost relieved when my watch told me it was 3:25 a.m. and time to focus once more on the group and the climb ahead. I had survived my first night apart from her. Sunday morning remained relatively free of wind, but we could see clouds approaching as the night faded away. Eleven of us headed out of camp by 4:30 a.m. and reached scree slopes to the left of the col, under a fairly steep cliff band, just as it started to snow. Again we sent a few members to scout the best route; Doug chose to stay high, while Dan and Vlad traversed low and found a route the rest of us could follow. By the time we topped out at the col two hours later, the snow had increased and several party members expressed concern about climbing down the same way with several inches of snow covering the loose marble-sized pebbles. Something in me was convinced the snow would let up as the day went on, so we continued. We donned whatever protective layers we had, roped up, and continued 200 feet down hard 25-30 degree snow until we could traverse over to the right (S) and up toward a subsidiary ridge, then around the backside onto Silver Star Glacier. By this time our three rope teams were out of sight of each other in near-white-out conditions but remained in radio contact. Doug, David and Dan led out as a three-person rope team. We found radios to be very handy on this trip: once during water scouting so we could let the party of three know where we had located water, and then again in the white-out as we approached the steepest part of the glacier. As leader of the second rope, I had a few brief minutes of clearing during which I could see that Doug had overshot the portion of the glacier that led up to the summit col; a quick look at the map confirmed that we were close but we had to go up that steep (30-35 degree) slope he had avoided on purpose, convinced it was not the right way. I flashed back to gl_iadv/iSSading wildly down that slope four years earlier, but this time the wind had scoured the slopes and the new snow was making travel a bit more treacherous. I called Doug on the radio and told him he needed to reverse direction. He ended up in front of me by about half a rope length. I started kicking steps (3 kicks and 3 ice axe jabs per step to give my team good purchase on the steep terrain), thinking my team of four would take over leading for Doug; I did not realize at the time that he was still in snow-covered tracks and was simply dusting off boot prints to make it easier to sink into the kicked steps. My teammates behind me were getting cold while I was breaking a sweat, all thoughts of my daughter completely vanished as I worked hard to get up the final reaches of the mountain. At one point Michele, third on my rope, called out that she could not go on without a rest, but at that point, with only about thirty feet to go, I was clearly not about to stop. Slow down, maybe, but no way was I stopping on that slope. About a half hour after Doug reversed direction, all three of our rope teams reached the rocks at the base of the summit. Everyone looked relieved to hear that this was as far as we had to go. Several party members wanted to see if the summit pyramid would be safe to ascend, but the half foot of new snow made it too slick to continue all the way up. Doug pulled out one of our daughter’s favorite stuffed animals, a plush duck of which we have multiples “just in case;” unbeknownst to me, he had carried it all the way up and pulled it out as soon as we determined we had reached our high point. We celebrated our success with a “summit shot” with Brooke’s duck and then beat a hasty retreat as the snow continued to fill our tracks. Once we returned to the top of Burgundy col and removed harnesses, ropes, and crampons, the real fun began: picking our way slowly down the now snow-covered scree slopes. However, the snow actually seemed to help bond the scree together; while there were a few slick spots where bare rock had been scraped clean of pebbles, most of the footing was fairly secure and we reached camp without mishap by 1 p.m. to find our tents completely buried with heavy new snow, enough to pull out a few of the tent stakes hastily buried the night before. (tent shot) Despite the fact that my down jacket was now completely soaked (I had forgotten I had it on for the entire climb, and here it was June in Washington state!) and my windbreaker was doing little to keep the snow out, my Smart Wool layers did an awesome job keeping me comfortable. We refueled, repacked within an hour of returning to camp, and raced back down to the cars two hours later, this time completely on route, with a few minutes added to wade through the river since all the logs were wet and the cars were only minutes away. We compressed a whole year’s worth of climbing into one weekend, with sunny warm conditions Saturday and a half foot of accumulated snowfall on Sunday. Better still, I learned that: 1) good gear will survive any extreme conditions, while bad gear will leave you miserable; 2) climbing off-route (or bushwacking) can actually be quite fun as long as you ultimately reach your destination safely with all party members intact; 3) being flexible and changing plans as needed can result in an even better trip than you had initially planned; and 4) despite being a new full-time mother, climbing still has the power to take my mind off everything else (including my child) except the terrain in front of and around me and the decisions that need to be made in order to safely reach our objective. I couldn’t wait to get back to my child as soon as we reached the cars; but I also wondered at the same time when I could possibly fit in another weekend adventure… Following is a listing of pictures in order taken, from car to stream to col to summit and back down to the cars. All photographs taken by Courtenay Schurman except where noted.
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