Rolf picked a suitable objective for my first steep mixed climb. Eye-opening and mind-expanding, I can see why he likes the stuff. I imagine it's a little like trying heroin for the first time. Except with more chances for terror and precipitous adrenal exhaustion. Maybe meth would be a better analog?
The route begins perhaps 400 feet to the right of the north face route, in the vicinity of the "North Grove" [sic? probably meant groove] route in Washington Ice. We may have climbed the "extremely futuristic unclimbed mixed line" mentioned there.
Possible FA. If so, we agreed "Area Closed" would be a good name. This stuff's new to me, but put in terms this simpleton can understand, if it feels like 5.9 it's M5, while 5.10 is M6. Felt like 5.10 to me, but Rolf will probably call it M4. 3 long pitches (45m, 60m, 60m) to a ridge top-out, a bit of exposed but easy roped climbing to the summit from there. As is semi-traditional in ice/mixed climbing we assigned leads for the route in blocks, with Rolf taking the first block, and there being only one block.
Route begins just left and above Rolf, up the short chimney just left of the buttress toe, then quickly takes a ramp rightward and then straight up a left-facing corner. Foreshortened view.
The initial chimney--the first crux--required improvisation. Steep learning curve off the deck. Had never depended on tools so much for upward progress, and never imagined the kinds of weird positions you might find yourself in while contorting up a snowy/icy narrow chimney. I realized that this genre was an opportunity to synthesize what I've learned from rock climbing and ski mountaineering (the climbing part). Also observed about this game: when you get a secure stance, you feel more secure than on rock (it's basically like hanging on a piece of gear, the horror); but the same amplification occurs when insecure.
There was ice on the route, but also a decent amount of snow disguising the good places to stab or hook--resulting in some frustrated newbie probing swings releasing that burnt rock smell. But also found that tools extend your reach and can hook frozen (and otherwise distasteful) choss-chockstones, and their 2mm fingers slot in tiny cracks. Crampons disconsolingly skitter on slab, but with some work find inconfident tiny edges and seams. These are things you learn quickly under pressure. I felt my game improving by pitch 3; but any increase over a near-zero base will look substantial.
No pics, but--as mentioned--after this chimney the route continues up and right on a ramp to a steep left-facing corner capped by a roof. Stemming off ice and rock where possible, backstepping, hooking, stabbing turf, choking up on the tool and mantling, I was proud to get up under that roof. There some more stemming and blind grappling got me halfway through turning the damn thing, but in the end had to get up on a narrow sloping ledge with no discernible placements. The key was to hook a feature waaaay out left and side-pull so as to rock over onto a precariously placed left foot. I missed this and had my one fail of the day right below the belay, skitter-sliding off the sloping ledge. Disappointing. Suppose it's like missing that key hold in an offwidth that makes it a lot more doable.
Looking down pitch 1.
The second pitch was less technically demanding, but afforded little pro. Much more straightforward, with thunker sticks in ice and snice, and less rock scratching. Rolf begins p. 2.
Pitch 2 ends at a tree, from which you can see the NW ridge crest, and possibly (no guarantee) an escape to easier climbing. But we continued straight up for pitch 3--Rolf had designs on another squeeze chimney beginning with a large hand crack. I was incredulous. Here Rolf is about to move left to the final stretch of pitch 3.
More contortions: suspended by a gloved right hand jam, right foot awkwardly inset on an ice-glued block, left foot stemmed out to rock, the left hand/tool tries to find purchase somewhere--including across to the right side of the body, where it finds a an edge to hook onto, and with a gut-wrenching hoist the cramponed boots come up and cam insecurely in the crack. Wild. My stomach hurts today.
Looking down after the cruxy contortions.
We topped out on the ridge, and traversed east to the summit. Take a Chair. Cumbre!
Kaleetan on right.
We descended in the dark. The ski out was mostly crappy.
You can probably tell I'm hooked--when there isn't good skiing. A couple other pics are in the usual place.
