Fisher Peak, SE ridge, July 8-9, 2000

Dave's trip report
Cascade Alpine Guide description:
SOUTHEAST RIDGE: This ridge, clearly visible from the highway, is about 1200 ft in height to the SE summit (7840 ft+), then continues to the true summit. The route is interesting and solid on the hard leads. First ascent by Greg Ball and Bill Fryberger on July 29, 1973.Take North Cascades Hwy to parking at open area on E (just S of Swamp Creek).

Hike W and ford Granite Creek (arduous in early season). Hike up S side of valley to W, then cross to easier N side (no trail, but fairly open except for two slides). Keep in trees to right of brushy open area at valley head; good camp in meadows below E face (5 hours). Begin climb several hundred feet SW of ridge foot. Ascend poorly defined dihedral system to where ridge becomes less steep. Then follow ridge several pitches to SE summit (class 3 and 4 and a few moderate class 5 moves to here). There is a 140-ft notch beyond; down-climb W one pitch (narrow ridge) then make 75-ft rappel. Climb a short wall (class 5—25 ft) then right on a shelf slope; then up again to easier climbing. Grade II; class 5.5. Time: 6 hours from camp.

Descent: Via S face; one rappel to gain moderate snow gully; then return E and NE.

Rough sketch of the route, ascent in yellow (lower portion missing). Photo from 9/28/2003

Brian with the SE ridge of Fisher rising into the mist.

 

Doug, Brian, Dave and I, with help of GPS, reached the slopes below the peak about 4 hours after leaving the car. The only beta we had for the route, other than the Beckey description above, was from a Boealps team that, after taking 7 or 8 hours to reach SE summit above the notch, retreated because their rope was not long enough to rap down into it. During their retreat, their rope got chopped by a falling rock, thus necessitating knot passes on every rappel. It took them the remainder of the day, and all through the night into the next morning, in making 19 rappels to get off the route (including leaving their rope on the last rap), and return to the road.

We found a marginal camp spot below the south face of the peak. There was running water under the rocks we were on, and Doug and Dave tried digging down to it, but to no avail. Eventually, running water was found on a cliff a few hundred feet above camp, allaying fears our small fuel supply would have to melt snow. The weather was clear as we drifted off to sleep.

Tree on the approach, used as a bear scratching post.

We awoke the next morning at around 4:30. It was definitely more cloudy, but not overly bad. We suited up and headed over to the base of the climb, finding what we thought were the "poorly defined dihedrals".

Doug and Brian headed up first, followed by Dave and I. Dave led the first two simulclimbing pitches on our rope, which were mostly class 3 and 4, with many short mid-5th class sections (up to 5.7), some definitely exceeding my running belay comfort level. The rock was loose, and there were a few close calls. We got used to the low pitched sound of rocks flying by, then crashing into the moutainside. After the first pitch, the clouds started to come down... the weather was looking worse and we talking about retreating, but eventually Doug suggested "Let's head up another pitch, and make a decision then. We'll still have time to back off if it gets worse."

Dave "light is right" Burdick's solution for apple cider.

At the third pitch, about 800 vertical feet up the ridge, the terrain was lessening in angle, so I took the lead. I was a bit slower, and the gap between our two rope teams quickly grew. I found protection difficult, and so often didn't bother on the 3rd and 4th class, only to find myself suddenly on some exposed 5th class bit. It seemed like every crack moved and was thus useless. I slung every bush I could find. I finally ran out of pro, and Dave took the lead again. At this point, we were socked in, and Doug and Brian seemed long gone. I guess we're not going to make a decision about the weather! Occasionally there was a bit of light drizzle. And then a soft roar off in the distance. Did the weather forecast mention thunder showers? I thought so. We began to feel a little more "committed".

Doug (close) and Brian (yellow blob) on the lower ridge

Here the ridge crest angle lessened considerably, but it became very narrow, jagged, loose, and very exposed. Care was required in negociating the tottering crest, sometimes just a few inches wide. With the lack of visibility, it was pretty surreal. At one point I came over a tower and saw Dave on the next tower, at the other end of the rope. Between me and him was a good 50ft section of exposed downclimbing and traversing, with no pro! Don't fall here! Shortly thereafter, I heard a loud yelp from Dave. I asked him what happened, but didn't get an answer, or couldn't hear it.

Finally, we reached the summit of the south east peak, and Doug and Brian. Just beyond, was the infamous "notch". Doug had just led an exceedingly exposed, downclimb of the narrow ridge crest, to where a rappel could be made into the notch. Across from the very deep cleft, slopes of the main summit could be seen, a towering black mass rising into the fog.

It was here I learned that Dave had his pinky smashed by a rock, and it was in great pain. Eventually, deciding it was best that he didn't try and clean the down climb pitch with a potentially broken hand, it was decided that he and I would use Doug and Brian's rope as a fixed line, and Brian would have the unenviable task of cleaning.

Wow, it was sketchy. Probably some of the most exposed rock I have ever been on, and it was mighty loose... Even with the relative security of the fixed line, the overwhelming sensation during this 75ft section (That probably took 5-10 minutes to climb down), was that of FEAR.

Doug, in the notch

Doug was figuring things out at the rap station. Dave had gone over second with our rope, so he could get the rappel started. Would it reach? The only rap sling here was a bleached white (formerly red) one from 1992. Seeing how this rappel is a mandatory step of the climb (there's no way around), yeah, this route probably isn't climbed very often. Doug headed down first. He yelled up that the rope reached the bottom, he was off rappel, and out of the way of rockfall. A good thing, because the wall we rapped down was composed of hideously loose blocks. I went down next... shortly before the bottom, Doug asked me: "Do you see an old rope off to your right?". I looked over, and sure enough, there was a chewed up, bleached white rope, off in a dirt gully to the right. Interesting. At the bottom, there was an overhang that provided some protection from rockfall. Doug and I stayed there while Brian and Dave cleaned up above and came down (and Dave deposited a Mr. Hankey).

SE peak of Fisher, as seen from the main summit when the clouds lifted. Ridge downclimb and rappel into notch indicated by blue line and arrow.

Now, getting back out of the notch: "Climb a 25ft wall (class 5), then head right on a shelf slope". Finally, a part of the Beckey description that made sense! It was however, obvious, since it was the only way out of the notch. To our right was a snow gully that steepened as it went down, probably terminating in a cliff. To our left was an extremely narrow crevice, also filled with snow. Very cool-looking, it was only 5 or 10 feet wide, with vertical walls probably at least 100ft high, and it zigzagged down, so we could only see about 100 feet of it. The walls on both sides of the notch were dead vertical and smooth, except for this short broken wall.

I made a Mr. Hankey deposit. Now Brian was the only one who hadn't added to the mass of Fisher Peak today.

Everyone was a bit sketched, and I don't think anyone really wanted to lead this bit, but Brian eventually started up the intimidating pitch (only rated 5.4 or 5.5 in the two reports in the Beckey guide, but we found it to be harder... 5.8 move near the top): a valiant effort considering he was still shaken up from the ridge downclimb above the notch. He knocked a foothold off. He took pro where ever he could get it, which meant the rope looked like a "connect-the-dots". Dave also wanted to have a crack at leading it (at least, before he watched Brian try it), despite his broken pinky, but we decided for speed that the rest of us would top-rope it. 20 minutes later, Brian was up the short wall, and climbed slightly easier ground to a belay above, and brought the rest of us up. As Dave surmounted the wall and walked along the sloping shelf, all of a sudden he screamed for slack. The rope, being pulled taught by the belayer, was moving a large flake back and forth, right above Dave's head. Yeeeesh!

Dave in pain on the summit.

Above this, another half hour of easier simulclimbing brought us to the summit. The last bit had some nice, relatively solid, 3rd class white rock. There was no summit register that we could find. The only signs that people had been on this mountain before us, were the rap slings from 1992, and a bivy spot cleared out on the ridge crest shortly below the summit.

Doug and Brian scope around for the descent route, after the clouds lifted

Now how to get down? We could not see anything. The informative beta: "Descent: via S. Face. One rappel to gain moderate snow gully". This must be the moderate snow gully we saw from camp. However, it was 400ft below the summit, 1/5 of a mile away along a ridge, and hugely corniced and moated on top. Obviously, there was more to this. There were some gullies descending to the south that looked ok. Doug and Brian walked out along a ridge spur to get a better view. Finally, suprisingly, the clouds lifted, and we could see things. This seemed to be the way, although we could only see bits and pieces of it. After 45 minutes or so on the summit, we headed down.

The descent was mostly 3rd and 4th class shallow gullies of loose rock, which we down climbed. Every once in a while, I would hear a shout of pain from behind. Shocking at first, I eventually got used to Dave's pinky pain. "Ooowwwwwwwwww!" ... a pause, then an explanation... "I brushed it against my leg." The snow got closer and closer. Apparently, we were going to intersect the snow gully well below its corniced top. We finally made it down to a block we could rappel off to reach the snow. With all of us perched on loose boulders and stones and dirt, we set up a double rope rappel, which would lead us past a glide cracks in the snow gully. I of course was watching the glide crack on the right as I rappelled past it, keeping my distance, and promptly fell into the glide crack on my left. And of course, the rope got stuck, as it always must. Dave freed it by climbing back up the snow a bit, and pulling from a different angle. It had taken us 3 hours to descend from the summit. As we headed down the snow gully, we passed a narrow snow-filled crack leading mysteriously up the mountain, but curving out of sight. Was it the same as the deep crevice at the notch? Hmm.....

Final rappel into the snow gully.

We quickly packed up and headed out. The weather had worsened again, and the wind picked up... glad to be off that thing! We found a slightly better way out which included some glissading, and, after some rather high speed bushwhacking with Doug/Energizer Bunny in the lead, we were back at the car two and half hours later, at 8:15pm, 15 hours after having started. The Buffalo Run was closed by the time we passed it, so headed all the way back to Doug's hosue in Everett with only a stop at golden arches. There was a green note on the windshield of my truck. An ad? No. And note from the guy who's house I parked in front of, telling me I should be more considerate and not take up the only spot in front of his house, and that this is not a park and ride! Holy cow!

Dave's Pinky Update: x-ray revealed a small fracture, pinky out of commission for 3 weeks!