Mt Baker, North Ridge - May 26, 2000

Dave popping over a bergscrhund thingy just below the ice cliff.

The plan was to climb the Coleman Headwall on Mt Baker, as a "shake-out" trip before going to Alaska. Early on in the week, a snapshot of the ever-morphing weather forecast revealed perfect weather conditions - a week of hot and sunny weather to consolidate the snowpack, followed by cool clear weather on the weekend, to make climbing this objectively hazardous face safe. Dave excitely emailed us the news, saying "Wow, could we ask for better conditions??" - we these words, I knew he had ruined it for us all! The weather would now surely turn bad for the weekend.

Sure enough, Thursday came, and the forecast called for sunny and warm on Saturday, then cool and cloudy with showers likely for the rest of the weekend, with maybe slightly better weather Monday. We resigned ourselves to our fate, and decided to go for it Sunday-Monday, knowing that we would probably fail because of the weather. I had thought about maybe just doing something Saturday, a safer route such as the North Ridge (since Saturday was going to have a 11000ft freezing level), but it sounded like a lot of work to do in a day.

Friday morning however, Dave made the same suggestion to everyone, and by early afternoon, we had decided to leave Seattle that evening at 9, and go for the North Ridge in one push.

Matt freshens up at the base of the ridge.

After a quick stop to get some chocolate-covered espresso beans, we arrived at the trailhead (or not quite so, as there was still snow on the road about a 1/4 mile from the actual trailhead). We left at 12:30am. By 3am, we were making our way across the Coleman glacier in the dark. Headlamps were visible high up on the North Ridge. This meant we had tracks to follow to cross the Coleman, making route-finding easier in the dark. But we decided to take a different route than they did, climbing right up from the base of the ridge, instead of intersecting it from the right side, so we eventually left their tracks. The glacier crossing was very straightforward. We arrived at the base of the ridge (7800ft) shortly before 5am, where we rested, and refilled our water supplies by melting snow. We were all feeling pretty tired.

Approaching the ice cliff.

We went up a short 45 degree slope, then wound among piles of loose rock on gentler slopes, eventually reaching the crest of the ridge on 30-35 snow. The slope flattened out as we reached the place where the standard route joins in, 600 steep feet below the icecliff.

From here, Greg led off up the steepening slope, around a few crevasses. We were roped as two parties of two, using the same pro - not too efficient, as when they ran out of pro, the first party would have to wait for the second to arrive with the pickets and screws.

Dave (leading) and Greg at the base of the ice cliff.

Dave continued up onto the ice cliff proper. We took the "wussy" line on the left side of the cliff, which actually followed the crest of the ridge more closely. The other options are on the far right, above a steep rotten-looking rock outcrop - looks like a short vertical step, followed by more laid back ice - this is the shortest option. Just to the right of where we were, the cliff is slightly laid back, and it looks like a full pitch (or more) of sustained 70 degree ice. We didn't feel like it on this day, we were already so exhausted.

The ice Dave climbed was kind of rotten (took screws well, but very dinner-platey), and everyone below was "entertained" by the chunks of ice zipping by! Oops, I guess we shouldn't all climb beneath one another.

Everyone came up to a great, exposed belay partway up the ice cliff. We were standing on 8-inch wide ledges on the crest of the ridge, with great views down into the chaos of the Roosevelt glacier!

I continued up on the (sunlit) east side of the crest, for another 40 feet of occasionally steep (but good quality) ice, and then traversed left on steep snow below the upper section of the cliff. Here, things got a little scary. I could just make out the tracks of the party that came through here much earlier in the day. Their footprints just barely indented the surface, while I was postholing. The sun was strong here, and there was no wind - it was like an oven. All of a sudden, my foot went through into blackness! There were holes everywhere! I think this slope consisted of large pieces of fallen serac debris, covered by this year's snowpack, and baked into a Slurpee by the sun, pitched with great exposure above the Roosevelt glacier. I had to probe around everywhere to find pieces of solid snow/ice to hop to. Then, the snow slope ended abruptly, and the only option for continuing was an exposed narrow "slush ramp" hugged right up against overhanging ice walls. I put in a screw, the first piece of solid pro in a while (the slush didn't lend itself to bomber pro), and continued, a little scared, through the narrow Slurpee ledge for 20 or 30 feet, until I reached the firm windswept crest of the ridge.

The second pitch on the ice cliff, and the first part of the Slurpee traverse. Matt in center, behind a chunk of ice. Dave just starting up on the bottom right, blending in with Greg. I screwed up the colours while scanning this, so I made it black & white.

From here, it was smooth sailing for the next while. Matt came up and leapfrogged me, followed by Dave and Greg. We climbed side by side, until just below a final steep icy slope (~50 degrees) leading up to the summit ice cap. Above this, a steep traverse below a looming ice wall led onto the flat summit ice. It was 1pm. The route was a lot more varied than I thought it would be - seemed like we were always travelling through interesting terrain, winding among seracs, with lots of exciting exposure in places.

Greg, with Cockscomb ridge behind.

Crossing the summit plateau to the actual highest point seemed to take forever. Dave "sprinted", and collapsed on the summit in exhaustion. Once we had all arrived and given each other high fives, we descended out of the wind, sat down, ate, drank, and promptly dozed off. At this point, We were approaching 30 hours with no sleep. We were finally awakened by some people walking by, the first ones we had seen all day. Time to head down. Oh but first, Matt had to leave some of his partially digested lunch on the summit plateau.

Dave on the summit. "Does anyone else feel like they're about to die?"

Dave was so completely out of it, it was incredible. He could barely respond to my questions. It was apparent he was feeling pretty ill though. We made our way over to the Roman wall, and down to the Colfax/Baker col, where people started to feel better. However, the descent was really pure misery, post-holing hell. I had forgotten my gaitors (or rather, assumed the integral gaitors on my pants would be sufficient), so me feet became more and more soaked with every step. It took great effort to descend. This was not supposed to be! A skier and snowborder zipped by. grrrr... jealous.

We all punched through crevasses at least once in the soft snow, including Matt up to his armpits; And Dave popped through one just a few feet off the main climber's trail, perfectly parallel to the trail and the rope connecting him to Greg.

Steam emerging from the Sherman Crater

The snow-less trail down in the trees felt soooo nice. However, all our bitching about the deep soft snow was overhead by the mountain gods, who left a hard patch of ice on the trail, tripping Greg up and causing him to injure his ankle pretty badly.

Matt and I were waiting at the road for quite a while (we parked our butts on a log not 5 feet from the beginning of the trail. During this time, people from two separate parties walked by and asked us if we knew where the trail started. We feigned ignorance of course). After half an hour, I was worried that Dave or Greg might be injured, maybe a sprained ankle, and decided to hike back up the trail to try to intersect them. Matt assured me they must just be tired and took a long break. After 5 minutes of hiking, I see Greg coming towards me using Matt's 4ft "Thunderbird" picket as a cane, followed by Dave looking pregnant carrying Greg's pack on his front. Doh! Greg told us how he was writhing in pain when it happened - he was able to still walk (painfully) and drive though. Hopefully it will heal fast!?