05-09-11 The Summit Push
We awoke at 3am, as planned, and began melting water and eating breakfast. Few words were spoken; between sleeplessness, nervousness and the intake of calories there just wasn’t room for conversation. While encouraging us to eat as much as we possibly could, Ben would interject with questions and small talk aimed at determining how we felt, which also had the additional benefit of keeping us awake. Ben, a native of New Hampshire, has lived in Seattle for most of his adult life and seems frighteningly at home in the mountains. A Georgetown graduate, and a firefighter for the city of Seattle during his non-guiding vocational time, Ben proved to be a pillar of confidence for the group. No one expects a mountaineering guide to be well read and wise in seemingly everything beyond just rocks, ropes and snow; and I’ve just recently learned to throw most preconceptions involving people out the window, so I’m still continually surprised. Ben could probably be anything he wants to be, but he has chosen a life doing what he enjoys.
After sipping down some hot tea, I threw on my cold boots and got out of the tent. On went our harnesses, crampons and helmets; then came a quick review the ice axe self-arrest technique. I tied in to the rope in the 3rd, and last, position and waited as I watched the slack in the rope before me disappear. It was 4:30am, and for the better part of the next hour all I would see is the ground in front of me, illuminated red by my headlamp, and the dim white light cast by my teammates before me.
Our route winded to the left from camp, skirting a few crevasses on the low side of the glacier. The air was calm and damp, and the footing was exceptional given the 3-4” of freshly fallen snow. We paused where the route began to get steeper. Since this was my first experience as part of a roped team, Ben also felt this to be a good opportunity to review the concept behind moving in balance. I was surprised, that when asked, I was able to give a textbook description of what it meant to self-belay with an ice-axe. Apparently, my having read “Mountaineering: The Freedom of the Hills” cover-to-cover had paid off.
The next hour or so was spent climbing the steeper slope, while negotiating and crossing some sizable crevasses. I found that being roped to another person was a bit of a drag. Ben was in the lead, burdened with the task of route-finding our way through the crevasse field. Steve was in the middle of the rope, and could go only as fast as Ben in order to keep the rope taught to protect our leader in the case of a fall. I was the caboose and found that my normal pace would cause me to get to close to Steve, thereby jeopardizing his, and my, protection should either of us take a fall. The upside of taking 15-20 steps, and then stopping to let the slack in the rope dissipate, was that I was able to conserve energy and had plenty of time to look around and enjoy my surroundings.
Looking behind me, down the slope of the glacier, I could now see other groups leaving camp, marked only by the light shone from their headlamps. They would have a slightly easier task of climbing on this day, as Ben was pioneering a spectacular route. All they would have to do is follow in our tracks. We soon arrived at the top of the exit from Hell’s Highway, just beyond Point 7935, where the Fischer Chimneys route joins the Sulphide Glacier route for the final push to the base of the Summit Pyramid. The light of day was now upon us, although it crept up slowly, the sun hidden in the clouds. The wind was picking up a bit so I threw on my shell while stopping to pack my headlamp, which was no longer needed.
From here, the base of the Summit Pyramid seemed far away. However, in no time we were sitting beneath it, fueling up for the final push. At this point, our glacier climb had ended, and our scramble up 800 vertical feet of wet, slippery greenschist was about to begin. We switched the rope configuration to enable Steve and me to climb behind Ben. The first few hundred feet of the climb was mixed rock and snow, so we opted to leave our crampons on. After a moderately steep section of snow, about 40-45 degrees, we removed our crampons, shouldered our axes and removed our gloves. It was time to climb some rock. Ben essentially freed the route at the sharp end of the rope, with us using rock features for natural protection to keep him from suffering a severely lengthy fall to the base of the pyramid, and pulling us off in the process. Once the rope was run out, Ben set up a belay to protect us as we climbed the wet and sometimes very loose rock.
The climbing went slower than we had wished, mostly because Steve’s plastic double boots were not built for this type of climbing, and also because it appeared that Steve was more at home on ice than he was on rock. Again, following him was frustrating as I wanted to climb more quickly and at a more sustained pace. But roped climbing is a team sport, so I sucked it up and began offering tips and words of encouragement for Steve from below. It was just about at this point where Ben yelled, “Steve, this mountain is kicking your ass man!”
I lost count of how many pitches it took for us to reach the belay station right below the summit. I was having too much fun climbing the gully and concentrating on staying the heck out of Steve’s way as he climbed. The later was easier said than done as there was, optimistically, about 10 feet of rope between us. He slid about 5 feet past me on one of the lower sections, while I watched, able to do nothing but pray he didn’t keep going and take me with him. On one of the upper sections, during a difficult move up a slick aręte, I nearly soiled my new soft shell pants when I received a swift kick in the head from one of his boots, crampon points and all. Luckily, I was not looking up at the time and my helmet did its job.
From the belay point up on the summit ridge, it was just a short scramble, topped off by an airy 4th class move around an aręte on an icy ledge, to reach the summit. We spent about 10 minutes or so up on the summit of Shuksan, eating some snacks and taking pictures. Ben pointed out various features and identified some surrounding peaks, before suggesting we clear the summit for any parties that may be coming up from below. Out of the 5 groups making summit bids on this day, we were the first of only two to be successful. It was a great feeling being a part of this exclusive group. Our climb was not over yet, we still had to get down, and everyone knows that the descent is often the most dangerous part of the climb.
I felt a pang of fear when Ben turned to me and asked me to lead us off the summit. The 4th class move at the top was fun going up, but slightly more difficult in reverse, requiring me to step down on to the icy ledge, with a less than solid handhold above me. But, having faith in the rope, and the guide belaying me from above, I made quick work of the route back to the belay station. From here we put together a series of down-climbs, lowers and rappels to descend the slick rock gully. Mid-way down the route, we came upon a group from AAI still on their ascent. I was leading down just above them, trying not to kick rocks on to their guide who stood belaying on a ledge below. When I finally did arrive on the ledge, I noticed he was climbing down to meet his clients in the gully. Unfortunately, there would be no summit for the AAI group on this day. They would be busy walking out with one of their members who had dislocated his shoulder pulling an awkward move on the climb. Luckily, they were able to set the shoulder, but he could not continue to climb.
When we reached the base of the pyramid, we all breathed a sigh of relief. The only trouble we had experienced on the down-climb was a stuck rope on the last pitch. Conveniently, the group of two who had reached the summit after us was able to free our rope. We thanked them and continued on down to the top of the glacier to switch our rope configuration and strap on our crampons. I was given the task of leading our rope team down the glacier, following the route that now had been traveled by many on the way up and down. It was slow going, and I found that often my progress was hindered by the leisurely pace of Steve, still on the rope between me and Ben. I know I tugged on the rope a few times during our descent, but I couldn’t help it. The clouds and fog were now thick and there wasn’t anything to see but the ice and snow before me. I wanted to get down the mountain as quickly as possible. By the time I saw our tent through the fog, I was almost dragging Steve behind me.
We now had the high camp entirely to ourselves, as others had abandoned their attempts on Shuksan and headed for home. Our time was spent mostly melting water and eating while lying in the warmth of our sleeping bags. At this point, most every item of clothing was cold and wet. After more than 11 hours and 3000 vertical feet of climbing, getting to sleep was a snap. We had been extremely lucky, with our weather window opening up just as we reached the summit; but as night approached in the eerie silence of an empty camp, a light rain began to fall on the flanks of the Sulphide Glacier.