Forbidden - 08.16-18.09

Part III
"More To Go"

It was already lighter when we arrived at the notch. We watched headlamps from a party at the lower basin camp start up to Sahale or Sharkfin. (We never did see where they went.) We wondered if they had noticed our lights on the ridge and what they thought was going on.

Then Steve set about making himself comfortable and took a snooze. I was too uncomfortable to sleep at first and after jostling about in different positions finally took a nap. Steve said I even snored. I awoke a half hour later.

Nap time (photo by Steve Machuga)

Then we watched the sky turn beautiful colors as the sun rose. I ate a bag of dried fruit and nuts and Steve had a few granola bars. We weren't quite ready to get moving, so we lounged until the sun hit a feature we were calling "The Scottish Arete."

Having gotten some rest, we headed out slowly and methodically back down to camp. In our tired condition, we knew there would be a few cruxes on the way to camp. The first was getting around the chock stone at the top of the gully. This proved to be no issue and we were now making our way down the slabs and loose rock. We reached the bottom of the gully and got on the snow. Steve felt comfortable with a standing glissade. I put crampons on and walked quickly down the snow. (I just wasn't feeling confident in the boots I had chosen.)

We got back onto rock in the lower gully and navigated our way down to the next crux. On the way up we made an uncomfortable step onto the slab from a snow lip on the lower snowfield. I was sure there was no way to make this step after the previous day's melting. That would mean we would have a choice of climbing down either of two short waterfalls. When we arrived, Steve probed it out and made a step onto a lower portion of the final slab before making the big step out onto the snow. It didn't look that safe to me so I hesitated before finally making a large gentle step onto the snow. We crossed that short bit of snow and then gained the slabs again before jumping back onto snow down to camp.

Once in camp we quickly went about filtering water to drink. It was nice and cold snow melt and I drank enough to give me brain freeze. We lounged again at the stream dipping our feet in the water and dreading the coming hike out. After a while we made our way back to the tent to pack up and head out.

The flies were horrible at the tent and it made packing difficult. In my already weakened mental state the flies were the final straw. I was running about trying to kill any that came near me. It was an ordeal. We packed as quickly as possible and hoped that once we left the camp area we would be rid of the pesky insects.

Our hope faded as we had to negotiate a grassy moraine littered with Marmot dens and scat. The flies were even worse. There were brief moments hiking down the basin where there was a faint wind or even cooler temps and seemingly no flies. Then we would encounter another area, like the lower stream crossings and be swarmed again.

Once through the stream crossings we made it to the woods and through the avalanche debris fields. Constantly in and out of swarms of flies. At one point during the heaviest bushwhack area of the trail the flies were so thick I looked like Pig Pen from Peanuts with the swarm around me. Steve said he could see dozens landing all over his clothes. When we escaped that area, I told Steve I was close to a nervous breakdown. He said that me running down the trail screaming "Cannot stop! Must keep moving!" was a sign of a partial breakdown. I agreed and knew that the worst was behind us.

About 20 minutes later we were back at the car. We found a note from the rangers on the windshield stating "Steve and Gilbert: Your party has been reported passed due. Please check into the ranger station when you receive this note. A search party is being sent." We packed the car quickly and drank some more water before heading out.

The drive on Cascade River Road always seems longer than it should be. I understand that it is a 23 mile mostly dirt road with a 35mph speed limit, but it just seems to go on forever. Once out, we made right for the ranger station and reported in. We were told someone was just sent out to look for us and we presumed it was the ranger truck heading up the road as we came out. After leaving the ranger station we called our contacts to let them know we were alright. Apparently the rangers had gotten to that first in some cases. Then it was time for the long drive home.

This was another exciting experience in the mountains and was a good learning experience.

I think both Steve and I learned some lessons this weekend:

One of which is that the two of us actually get tired. (Which may be hard for others to believe.) I think if we had not done South Early Winter Spire on Saturday, the Forbidden trip would have played out completely different. We would have been fresh and moving faster without all the lethargic delays. I cannot say for sure this would have kept us on route during the climbing, but it probably would of had us moving faster on route, as well as the approach. It may also have made us more at ease with the rock quality and exposure.

Another lesson has to do with emergency contacts and when to call in a passed due. This was partially a flub because we had changed our plans a few times, so it wasn't exactly set in stone when we left Edmonds. That caused the timing to be off, and created a panic regarding our return time. In retrospect, it appears that Steve and I may not have even been on the same page regarding when authorities should be contacted. While Steve and I had no idea that a rescue was initiated, this incident has made me strongly consider the use of a Spot.

A funny thing about the "rescue" was that when we arrived at the ranger station the ranger behind the desk said they could have initiated the search earlier if we had used the climbing register. (We had neglected to, probably due to our fluid plans.) I thought at the time this was funny as I didn't even think the rescue needed to be initiated at all and that starting it earlier was a waste of time and resources.

The route itself was interesting. I don't know if I'd recommend it, as I was not a big fan of the rock quality. (Well, at least the quality of the protection.) It is also the sort of route people seek for the exposure, which is not a reason I usually seek out routes. There were only a few memorable climbing segments on the route, so it is also not a route to seek out if you want to get into some climbing. However, the setting is hard to beat with numerous 8000' peaks nearby and many small and a few large glaciers tucked here and there. I'd have to admit to loving downclimbing the ridge in the dark as well. It is truly spectacular to be on a beautiful mountain like Forbidden and watch the sun set, the stars rise, and eventually give way to the sun again. It was something we obviously didn't plan to do, but the trip was enriched because of it. It was a wonderful experience that I shall never forget.

I think I learned a few things about my ability to stay alert and focused after being up all of the night. (Partial thanks to Powerbar Gel with Caffeine.) I'll probably always look back on this trip fondly even though the result was not what Steve and I were looking for.

And Steve and I still have not done the West Ridge, so perhaps we'll have to go back for that and see if it lives up to the popularity.

Once again, pics are here.

Forbidden - East Ridge Direct - 08.16-18.09

Part II
"The Descent"

Steve's glory from the summit (photo by Steve Machuga)

Josh and Matt had told us that it took them about one and half hours to get back to the notch from the summit using the East Ledge descent. They said it was five rappels and then there were cairns on each rib on the traverse back. Most people avoid this descent because as Nelson states "climbers find this 3rd and 4th class descent route to be loose and stressful." Josh and Matt gave us confidence that we should have no problems with it. Plus at 7pm our only other option was to continue down the west ridge, which could not have been faster. If all went well, we should be back at the notch before the sun set.

Steve belayed me quickly back to the summit rap anchor. This was a mess of old slings on a horn on the ridge. The horn appeared sound enough, but we decided to add a sling as all the slings seemed old and tattered. The first rappel appeared to be the steepest. And we could see the next two rap stations from there.

I headed out first careful not to put too much weight on the anchor. About halfway down, Steve yelled to hurry up as it was 7:20pm. We made it to the next anchor which was no less scary than the top anchor and proceeded to rappel. A few raps down and we had difficulty finding the next rap stations. Steve led off on the next rap while I stashed the rack in the pack. By the time we were done with five raps it was a little dark and we could not see any cairns on the first rib. A lot of the beta and the climbeing ranger stated that the big mistake most people make is not descending enough. So, we made a sixth rap.

Still no sign of a cairn on the rib, we decided to head east. Perhaps we'd see it on the next rib? While not fully dark, it was a little too dark to see anything resembling a ledge that is what the route is supposed to traverse. So we carefully picked our way east as the sun set on us. We headed to what appeared to be a cairn on perhaps the second rib over but the ground got too difficult to reach it. (So we assumed it was not correct.) We saw a rap anchor nearby and were able to reach that. Anchored in, we rested our minds a bit, but wanted to keep moving. Now under head lamp, we made another rappel. Steve liked what he saw at the bottom and told me to come down. Once at the end of the rope, there were some larger, more comfortable ledges to stand on. We eyed the next rib and saw easier terrain going to it. We headed toward it.

Once on the rib, we identified a cairn. We were on route. But now it was dark and losing the route could be easy. The terrain and especially the ribs were rocky with many horns and blocks. A cairn could easily hide among all the other spikes on the rib. We continued slowly eastward toward the next rib. The night scrambling was stressful. We took a few minor breaks on larger ledges to rest our brains and take in the beauty of the sky. Unfortunately, there were no spots suitable for a bivy. No ledges were large enough to really sit or lay on, and none offered anchors to tie into. With a possibility of rockfall, our safest option was to keep moving off this technical terrain.

We neared the next rib and could see what looked like a cairn. But by headlamp it could also have been just a horn. We discussed it a bit. Then we headed toward it. It was yet another cairn. We were still on track!

We attempted to maintain a level crossing to the next rib. Going was slow. We kept looking up to the ridge to see if we were under the "solitary gendarme" that marks the start of the route. We reached the next rib to find another cairn. We were still on route and we appeared to be under the gendarme. Time to head up.

Having talked to the ranger and Josh and Matt they all stated that most people take the gully back up to the notch, but that it is preferred to stay on the rib just west of the gully as it is easier terrain. But where we were currently the gully offered the best terrain and we started our upward climb on grassy ledges and blocks. People had clearly been this way, but it did not necessarily look like a well traveled path. After some distance upward, we regained the rib again as that offered easier terrain. We were getting excited. The climbing was getting more stressful. The last bits to the ridge crest were probably low 5th class that we had to solo to make it to the top. Once there, our hearts sank. We headed up too early. We were at the location that marked the end of our fourth pitch earlier that day. (Or technically the day before.)

It was around 1:30am and we had four pitches to climb to return to the relative safety of the notch. We were out of water and hadn't drank any in hours. Nor would we be anywhere soon where we could replenish. We could build an anchor and huddle together until daylight, or we could climb out while we still were running on adrenalin. We sat about a bit admiring the stars and lights of Bellingham before making a decision. (Who knew you could see Forbidden from Bellingham?) The ridge was cold and windy, we wouldn't get any real rest, so we decided to climb. We both felt relief to finally be anchored back into the mountain again.

Steve suggested we lead the same pitches we led earlier as we may remember them. (It seemed like a week ago that we were on the ridge in the daylight. It made our South Early Winter Spire climb seem like last month!) I told him I remembered this pitch to be exposed. He told me it wouldn't matter as you couldn't feel the exposure in the dark.

So I took the rack out of the pack and racked up to lead a pitch on the ridge in the dark. As my headlamp illuminated the terrain it came back to me. Climb over this horn, traverse this rib, over another horn. I was determined to get it done. I stumbled upon the anchor where Steve belayed me on the pitch earlier. It was a sling someone left there. (Perhaps from retreating?) I backed it up with a cam set in what appeared to be a solid crack and yelled "Steve, off belay!" Later we would find it funny that we were using our names being the only people on the mountain. I brought Steve in and we contemplated the next pitch.

We were on top of the first large gendarme on the route. The way off was a steep 5.7 downclimb. We couldn't exactly see which way would continue on the ridge or start us down the face. Luckily for me it was Steve's turn to lead out. Unluckily for me it meant that I would follow the downclimb, which means I would have the danger of leading it. I told Steve to place gear early and often. He led off down the gendarme and off to where his headlamp darted about a bit here and there. Steve was low on gear and trying to build a suitable anchor. After a while of his headlamp darting, he finally yelled "off belay." And I was on my way.

When we were both on top of the gendarme, we contemplated numerous scenarios to get down it. One of which was both of us rapping off the anchor on top. (I told him I didn't like the anchor enough for that.) Another was for him to lead off on the down climb and for me to set up a top rope on the anchor to down climb it. This still relied on the top anchor too much and would also mean leaving gear. A similar option was to rappel off the top anchor after Steve down-climbed the pitch. If the top anchor failed, the top piece of gear should hold my fall. Well, we (or was it I) decided that downclimbing made the most sense. Assuming I didn't fall, there would be no reliance on gear. So I started down.

The climbing down the gendarme was marked by short difficult moves with good stances to finish. Steve placed gear so I would be roughly at a piece for the more difficult moves and should be able to still reach high to remove the gear at the good stances. I got to the first piece, a slung horn, and downclimbed below it. I had difficulty removing it and was about to leave it when I finally had success. Down to the next piece I continued. This continued for a bit until I got to a large slung block. Steve yelled up, "Leave the triple if you have to." I pulled the carabiner off the sling and used it as a hold to climb the next section. A few more lower angle moves and I was at Steve's position ready to continue.

I took what he had left of the rack and didn't bother to trade out the backpack and I continued down. The going was steep. I didn't remember this as well as the previous bits. Then I found a rock with a scar on it that Steve "was heading for" on his first pitch the previous day. I was on track. A bunch of steeper moves and I was back at the belay from the top of our first pitch. I brought Steve down and he arrived at my location with the sentiment that down climbing is hard. Yes, especially in the dark. We discussed where he should head. (We both figured walkable terrain was not too far below us.) And he headed out.

After a few slower moments I was paying out rope quickly. Steve reached walking terrain. Now he had to find an anchor. He built an anchor and belayed me in. We were back at the notch with our stashed gear.

It was around 4:30am and we had been moving for 22 hours straight. Shortly after reaching the notch we heard rock/icefall lower down. We decided to wait until daylight to continue. It was nice to be out of rock shoes for the first time in 19 hours. We put all our clothes on, and just hung out at the notch, glad to be on safer terrain.

My pics are here.

Forbidden - East West Traverse - 08.16-18.09

EPIC!
Part I
"The Summit"

The original plan was to climb Forbidden Peak as an east to west traverse so that we could climb the west ridge and avoid the late season difficulties associated with it. We got a late start in Washington Pass and packed up slowly and did some sight seeing. We ate lunch in Marblemount and finally got under way. As soon as we were hiking the Boston Basin bushwhack, I mean trail, we knew what we were getting into. It turns out we were both fairly tired from climbing South Early Winter Spire the day before and we were feeling it.

Sorting gear for Forbidden (photo by Steve Machuga)

On the way in we passed Josh and Matt who were coming down from a climb of the Direct East Ridge. We chatted a bit and got beta for the descent of the East Ledges. It was probably there that I made the decision in my head that we would probably only do the east ridge and then descend the ledges although I may not have expressed it to Steve at that time. After chatting a bit we continued on and discussed the option of descending the ledges. After some difficult water crossings in the basin, we were finally in the upper basin and setting up camp three hours after we left the car.

We pumped some water from a nice stream, and made dinner. We prepped for the next day and decided on a wake up time of 5:30am. (Josh and Matt had told us they left camp at 5:30.) We had a bit of difficulty getting to sleep because we kept thinking we were hearing female voices. This may have been true as another tent was there in the morning (About 100m downhill from our location) that wasn't there when we went to bed.

Just before the alarm went off there was some rock/ice fall on the mountain. I jumped up to make sure we were not in danger. My commotion woke Steve up and he promptly went back to sleep. I hadn't been sleeping well and mulled about in my sleeping bag for the next 15 minutes until the alarm went off. Once the alarms went off, Steve and I decided to rest in another 15 minutes or so before actually getting out of the tent. [Can you already count the many signs of an epic?] We ate breakfast, used the toilet and left camp at 6:30am.

We had good information from Josh and Matt about the problem they had on the approach and made quick time up the slabs to the snow and eventually the gully. We arrived at the notch at the base of the route around 8:30 or so. In keeping with the epic theme, we dawdled at the base for some time (including Steve needing another "bathroom break" before starting the route.) During our delay we made the decision not to down climb the west ridge. We knew we were both tired and we weren't moving that fast coming up from camp.

We eventually started climbing at 10am and I took the first lead. The first bits were 3rd class and then it got somewhat harder where I had to negotiate a few small gendarmes. Since good protection was scarce, I looked for a viable anchor location after I had about half the rope out. I wound up slightly off the crest of the ridge on the south side and was probably slightly off route. Steve made his way over to me and then slowly made about leading the next pitch.

Steve had to regain the ridge crest first and then make his way up the first significant gendarme on the ridge. This section is listed at 5.7 in the guides and that would probably be correct. It was slow going as route finding was not obvious, but more so because protection was difficult. Once finding an suitable anchor location, Steve brought me up. Two hours had passed since we started climbing and I knew that we were in for a long day. Being the optimist, I thought our speed would improve now that we got a feel for the climbing and we were back on route. So we continued on.

Following the second pitch (photo by Steve Machuga)

I led a short exposed pitch along the ridge crest with easy climbing before I got to and area that looked like it may be difficult to find an anchor in. So I went with the option I had present. (Which still felt pretty desperate to me.) I brought Steve over and we discussed the next pitch. We were a short distance from the next major gendarme which can be bypassed on the north side of the ridge. Steve led off around some minor obstacles before taking a path of least resistance on the north side of the ridge. After using up all the rope, I began to simul climb behind him as we both wound up north of the ridge proper. We continued to climb on the north side for some distance on loose dirty ledges until Steve hit a spot where he could build a reliable belay. He then belayed me to his location.

I started out on the second leg of this traverse over a rib and onto more slab like terrain heading for the notch between the last two gendarmes. It seemed we were a bit low and as I headed back up, the terrain was better for climbing and protecting. I could see I wouldn't make it to the notch in one rope, so when Steve told me I had used half the rope, I built a suitable anchor. He then led off to the notch on a full rope length and brought me up. Having looked at the rap on top of the last gendarme, I can say I am glad we decided to bypass it. (Scary overhanging rappel off a rock horn.)

Climbing up to the notch (photo by Steve Machuga)

Anchor options weren't great at the notch, and it took Steve a long while to build an anchor using a few pieces and a few natural options. This was the crux overhanging 5.8 step. I had already told him he was leading it, so we switched positions and he headed out. The step looked scary and Steve had a hard time believing it went the way it did. He tried to scope out other alternatives to it, but then faced the fact that it did go up that steeply. Steve confidently led up the steep face and began to look for a suitable belay anchor. (I told him it better be solid before starting the pitch.) He went a bit further before he built an anchor. I climbed the steep section which was pretty wild, but easier than it looked. Although it had a very funky move where you had to stand on a wobbly block in order to make a move. After reaching the belay, I was off again.

Topping out on the 5.8 (photo by Steve Machuga)

I led out a bit on what is supposed to be 5.2 terrain to the summit. It was mostly on the crest and upon approaching a minor step, with a sling on top, I set up a belay. (I mistook that to be the summit, but was unsure.) I brought Steve up to my location and he led out for the summit.

My last lead up the East Ridge (photo by Steve Machuga)

He reached the summit and set up and anchor to belay me up. I joined him at the summit around 7pm. Clouds were blowing up out of Boston Basin and blowing down the north side of the mountain. There was the smell of smoke. (We presumed the clouds were related to forest fires.) The wind was cold and we snapped a few pics before rapidly going about the rappels...

Summit shot (photo by Steve Machuga)

My photos are here.