Northeast Face of Pyramid Peak - First Ascent

Winter Climbing and a New Route in the Cascades, Feb 8-9, 2003

By Coley Gentzel, Chris Koziarz, and Robert "Polish Bob" Rogoz

 

In early February of this year, AAI Coordinator of Domestic Programs Coley Gentzel and two friends made the most of a two-day weekend. Here's his story of the experience of putting up a new route on Pyramid Peak.

Pyramid Peak in the Winter

Winter climbing in the Cascades is about as fickle a pursuit as a climber can undertake. It's a "waiting and watching" game in which you must know exactly what to look for in weather patterns and snow conditions. Even after a few seasons of experience, you can guess wrong or encounter conditions other than those expected. In the end, you never really know what you're going to find until you get out there. There are many things that need to be present in order to make alpine climbing in the winter possible, let alone enjoyable in the Cascades. To describe them completely would involve many pages with lots of qualifiers and exceptions, but in a nutshell, you hope for a few days of sunny and clear weather during which time no snow falls. Ideally your chosen weather cycle has a warming trend at the front end of the cycle and a cooling trend at the end. This pattern gives you an initial warming of the snow pack (creating wet and heavy snow) and then a refreezing of the now heavy pack to create beautifully hardened surface conditions. These conditions make it easier to get around on the snowpack and better conditions on the routes themselves.

The Window is here

During the first week in February one such weather and conditions window came to be. A few climbing partners and I had been keeping a careful eye on the conditions for weeks and knew that things would be good, so climbing was a "no brainer" when the weekend rolled around. What to climb, an on going debate, was the tougher question. We knew of a number of good winter routes not far from Bellingham, Washington, in the Cascades and were attracted to Watusi Rodeo on Colonial Peak, Spindrift Couloir on Big Four Mountain, and the one and only route on the East/Northeast side of Pyramid Peak. We settled on something off of the North Cascades Highway but left our options open until the morning of the climb.

After a weekend warrior alpine start (9am, coffee and pastries) in Bellingham, Robert Rogoz and I started the drive to meet Chris Koziarz at a Park and Ride on the way. The rendezvous with Chris was timed perfectly and we continued out the North Cascades Highway heading east from the town of Burlington. Colonial Peak and Pyramid Peak are both visible from the road in North Cascades National Park, so we were still saving a final decision until we had a chance to view each of the faces. We didn't know at the time, but the existing route on Pyramid is not visible from the road. After quick look at Colonial and the neighboring Pyramid we unanimously elected to try a new line on the face on Pyramid that we could see. It looked like there were several runnels and non-continuous snow and ice patches that could be linked by rock bands. As it usually does in the mountains, the climbing looked really steep, and we set off for the trailhead with the hope that once under the face it would appear less intimidating.

Getting Underway

One of the funny things about the Cascades in winter is that the roads and trailheads used to approach peaks and mountains are often times well below the snow line. This means that it is difficult to judge the condition and depth of snow and thus whether or not you need snowshoes or skis for flotation. Since we all have a lot of experience and have a fair degree of confidence in our analytical abilities, we ended up with one person in each category: Bob with skis, Chris with snowshoes, and me anticipating firm conditions and going without flotation. For me this meant a lighter load on the way up but the possibility of hellish postholing higher up. I think that when bad climbers die and are dealt their eternal punishment they are condemned to an afterlife of postholing, so I was a bit nervous on the hike in wondering if I would meet that with that fate sooner than desired. In the end my choice was the good one. The snow was hard enough for decent travel with no flotation.

The Approach

The Pyramid Lake trail that we used starts at about 2300 feet of elevation, and since we wanted to camp at 5500, we had some distance to cover. There is a lot of vertical relief in most areas of the Cascades, and getting into the alpine environment often involves encountering and passing through several ecological zones en route to the alpine realm. Our approach started in a typical Cascade river valley green with lots of moss on the ground and towering fir trees overhead, and we slowly climbed into the snow after about 2 miles and 1800 feet of elevation gain. Once on the snow we gained a broad forested ridge which lead us out of the dense timber and eventually out of the trees for good. We started the approach at 11:30 a.m. and by 3:00 p.m. we got a closer view of the face and our objective. It still looked really steep. I was hopeful that when we got even closer, the mellow angle and thick ice I was sure to be there, would finally be revealed.

Finally, a closer view of the face and our objective. It still looked really steep. Hopefully when we got closer
the mellow angle and thick ice I was sure to be there would reveal itself.

Bivy Time

A distant view of the remote Picket Range from our bivy site. A party did the first winter ascent of Inspiration Peak
(the dark peak with double summits on the far left of this photo) the next morning as we were on our route.

The sunset and alpenglow were spectacular as were the views of the distant and hallowed Picket Range, a remote and rugged sub-range in the Cascades. It was a cold night (14F) by Cascade standards, and our little hanging stove was busily employed with the making of hot drinks and meals for most of the short evening. After a bit of tent and bivy sack site preparation and a few more nervous glances in the direction of our looming objective, we hunkered down for an attempt at some rest.

Rise and Shine: It's Climbing Time

Miso soup and GU are not the best breakfast, but alpine climbing is supposed to be about suffering, right? A predawn start put us at the base of the face and under our initial objective at about 6am - pretty late if the climbing is hard. There's only about 9 hours of daylight in February (we get the payback with 17 in the summer), so technical climbing by headlamp is often required for longer winter routes - not the most fun thing in the world. The ice and snow runnels we had spotted from the road and eyed from our approach were far thinner than anticipated and yes, it still looked very steep even when we stood directly under the route. We decided that the initial line in the middle of the face would be too hard and take too long for a party of three, so we opted to access the face via a wide snow couloir that slashed the lower left portion of the mountain.

Getting In To the Business

About 400-500 feet of 45-degree snow and nèvè led to a shallow depression on the left hand side of the face. This looked like the easiest passage onto the face itself so we decided to give it a go. The first pitch was a shallow groove and involved 80-degree nèvè and thin ice climbing as well as some steep snow. Bob did the leading and did a fine job at it. Our first belay was under the shelter of a large roof and on a pretty comfy ledge. The anchor consisted of two knife-blade pitons, one of which fell into my lap while I was belaying. Not a "bomber" anchor but better than the few that were yet to come.

Beginning the second pitch, we stepped out right from under the roof and followed a large right facing rock corner at the base of which was hard snow and very enjoyable climbing. Our 2nd belay was in the corner and just below a broad 60-degree snow slope with no protection in sight. Bob cast off and when he ran out of rope, I pulled the belay and we started moving together, roped, with no protection to speak of. After about 150 meters or 3 rope lengths, Bob got to a protected stance and was able to smash in a few warthogs. A warthog is a rather gothic looking piton that is meant to be pounded into frozen turf and mungy cracks for protection. These would be the sole source of reasonable protection at the next 3 belays. These warthogs are toothy little buggers and are a huge pain to remove once pounded in. I think I was more pumped from cleaning these things all day than from the actual climbing. From the 2nd belay the seriousness was about to be upped a bit.

Pitch 3 started with some moves in a vertical crack that was filled with snow and ice and continued out into a sloping shelf of snow. A few more traversing moves led to the crux of the route: a short but vertical corner with a smooth rock face on the left and a wide crack on the right. Bob led the pitch brilliantly and found adequate protection in a horizontal crack before sketching and scratching his way up a smooth rock face with a quarter inch of ice plastered to it, just barely making it climbable. A few moves of camming our tools in the crack led to a thin slab of ice (1/2 inch in most places) and eventually rounded out into a 60-degree snow slope and to the base of the next rock band.

Another warthog and piton belay was the starting point for Pitch 5 and the vertical ice found at its start. Finally we had some ice thick enough to swing into! Or so it appeared. After a few pick-dulling rebounds it was determined that gentle swinging of tools was better once again. A few vertical moves, an almost decent ice screw (the only one of the route), and a small bulge allowed us to clear the 2nd rock band (and 2nd crux of the route). This led to another 65-degree snowfield and a belay at another band of steep rock.

Two rightward trending pitches on loose and exposed snow led to an exit gully and the summit shortly afterwards. To our surprise we topped out on the true summit and the cairn on top was still visible despite the winter snow pack. Breathtaking views of the range covered in snow greeted us and were greatly enjoyed during the 30-second stay we had there.

The Descent

We (really it was I) made a bad decision on the descent, choosing a wrong gully and encountering a 300-foot drop at its end which required us to reclimb a few hundred vertical feet of deep snow. The long walk back to the tent and our gear also involved a demoralizing climb up a soft snow slope, loss of elevation, and another climb back up to reach the ridge that overlooked our camp. We had been on the go for 13+ hours at this point and were rather knackered. The postholing was more painful than ever.

We reached our camp by 6:45pm and after a 10-minute pack and snack we donned our headlamps and continued down. Once out of the snow, our route became a bushwhacking event. Traveling through the trailless timber, we were second-guessing our route-finding abilities at every turn. By combining luck with our compass and altimeter we were able to stumble onto the trail at about 11pm and were finally able to turn our brains off and stumble mindlessly towards the car. Midnight and the start of the new day saw us back at our car and what we thought would be the final challenge, staying awake for the two and a half hour drive home. But before long, my drift towards dreamland in the backseat of Bob's Mazda was rudely interrupted by our collision with a full sized truck tire positioned in the middle of the road and the subsequent explosion of our radiator. "When would this day end," was the question on our minds. It did end, not before a tow truck ride, a call for help, and a ride from a roommate and friend, and - for me - eight scrambled eggs at 3 a.m.

Route and Statistics

"It Aint Over," Pyramid Peak

North Cascades of Washington Feb 8-9, 2003

Difficulty:D, Mixed to 90 Degrees
Length: Seven pitches plus some simul-climbing
First Ascent: Coley Gentzel, Chris Koziarz, and Robert Rogoz (Polish Bob)