beartooth mtns pt 1: glacier peak, the patriarch

To start this one off you should go HERE  first and enjoy the endless ticking and tagging of dark lovely slots by Beau Fredlund. His blog is like Cabin Porn (one of my favorites) but for chute skiing, incredible line and image after incredible image. We’ve been emailing back and forth a bit and last week things finally lined up for us to floss some teeth in the Beartooths. I didn’t really know what the plan was and I didn’t care, I just wanted to get out of the 70 degree weather in the Wasatch and ski some cool lines. I packed up my piece-of-shit snow machines and enough gear for a week long outing. As I drove, Beau kept texting me with potential plans.

Our crew of five marched off across Goose Lake with 6 days worth of food. I’d never skied with this clearly experienced and tight team, but Josh Varney, KT Miller, Pat Cross, and Beau welcomed me into the fold. The idea was to set up several camps and tick big lines on our way out to Red Lodge.

Heading toward our first objective, the large and chute riddled, Glacier Peak. The many chutes of the western face were tempting, but the hope was that the classics on the north side would hold better snow.

We descended, contoured, and climbed up into the northern cirque.

For a large chunk of the 90’s, a time I consider the golden age of ski mountaineering in the U.S., Hans Saari, Kristoffer Erickson, Alex Lowe, Andrew McLean, Stephen Koch, and a few others were ganging up on incredibly steep and consequential lines all over the western states, and the world. The north side of Glacier Peak hosted them on several forays of bold first descents almost eighteen years ago.

Here is a Beau Fredlund photo taken earlier in the year from a different vantage point that proudly displays the classics in all their glory. This must be one of the highest concentrations of incredibly long and steep lines that run off a single peak?! From lookers right to left, let me introduce you, if you’re not familiar: “Catch a Fire”, “The Patriarch”(arcing chute, ends in large cliff), and the “Becky Couloir” on the north face of Glacier Peak.

Not quite the alpine start to the day that we had hoped for, but we set up tents, and hurried out of camp to try and get some turns in before dark. Beau was leaning toward “Catch A Fire” and we all agreed. Transitioning from skins to crampons at the base.

Looking back down at tent city.

To be honest, it didn’t look like much from the bottom, kinda short, and not that steep.

Wrong I was……

on both accounts. And it was narrow which is the third requirement for a classic couloir.

That’s right, the Vorpal is back. The more I use it, the more I like it!

Topping out was a treat. The sun was setting and we had an incredible view through the notch in the ridge. High fives, sunsets, and selfie all in one shot! Then things got quiet. It was getting dark, and the serious business was at hand, or foot I suppose. Hiking up something steep is one thing. In good snow, all those sharp metal points gripping and clawing can give one a real sense of security.

The experience changes dramatically by staring down something of true pitch and consequence. Isn’t there a saying, “don’t look down”?

Somehow I drew the long straw and dropped first. The snow was pretty good, not as good as it looks though. There was a stout melt/freeze crust underneath. Unfortunately, it just got worse and worse after each skier. So much so, that Pat and Josh down climbed the upper 1/4 of the chute.

KT crushes on the uphill…

and the down!

Pretty fun leapfrogging and photo chuting. Photo:Beau Fredlund

The wind was whipping and light snow was falling. Just before dark we were able to sneak back into camp. The initial outing was very promising. The snow-pack we had observed was bomber and really conducive for steep skiing. The forecast was calling for some sort of weather, but we were hoping it would hold out. One hell of a first day!

We slept in the next morning and headed back up to look at “The Patriarch”. The wind had blown overnight, but the small slabs we found were very thin and didn’t contain much energy. A group of five is a crowd, so we split up. KT and Pat went up the “Becky.” Josh fixed a rope so he, Beau, and I could rappel into “The Patriarch”. Apparently the previous parties who completed this route were able to down-climb onto the hanging apron. We probably could have descended safely, but getting back up the rocky crux would have been a struggle. Josh testing out his handy-work.

Once the basics are learned, steep skiing is a mental game above all else. The initial mind-fuck on this line is the hundreds of feet of cliffs that loom below. As we lowered into the apron of “The Patriarch” and got a good look at the chute and it’s conditions, we could see the slope was long, and mellowed out to 35 degrees at the base. I kept telling myself that there would be plenty of room to self-arrest before launching off the cliffs, if I fell. Mind games, it’s all mind games.

We turned our backs to the cliffs and started our ascent. The next mental challenge was the exposure that 3/4 of the chute received from a large overhanging cornice. Temps were cool and no sun was peaking out so we felt okay about proceeding, but we were anxious to get out from underneath it. Beau was on a tear and broke trail almost the entire chute. Somehow, he still managed to snap some great pics, like this one below.

Once we finally rounded the corner, the slope kicked back to over 50 degrees.

Josh took the lead and punched steps onward and upward to where the snow thinly coated a rock slab. He tapped in a piton and clipped it. I moved passed to see if we could work to the on climbers left against the wall. A descent looked possible, but with the danger of sheering off the few inches of snow and maybe dry docking edges onto rock. It seemed doable, so I continued. It was thin, rotten snow and the climbing was difficult. The kind that is feasible for the first traveler, induces cursing for the second, and not really possible for the third. It would have been nice to have had a rope.

Just as I passed through the crux and found deeper snow, the flick-lock on my whippet opened and released the lower shaft of my pole. I didn’t notice this, however, until I was several moves beyond it. Beau said he would bring it up, but as he got higher, he and Josh decided they had gone far enough. A good call. Getting three folks through this section would be tricky. The realization that they wouldn’t be joining me suddenly set in. I was alone, and would be skiing with half a pole! This fucked with my head and I thought maybe I shouldn’t continue. Was I going to be able to safely descend? Beau and Pat yelled up that the top of the line was close, and encouraged me to continue on. I topped out on the face and peered around the corner to the very short and steep gully that connected to the summit ridge. It was a short boot up and it was comforting to be on flat terrain. I took a few breaths, quieted the mind, enjoyed the moment, and cleared the fear. There was no question the descent was within my ability.

Descending the first little pitch was incredibly perfect powder that ended in a rocky traverse back onto the hanging ramp where the fellas waited below. I had to remove skis to work over the ridge and then down-climb to find deep enough snow to click back in. It’s always a huge relief to step into the skis. I feel much more comfortable on edge than on foot. The snow was friendly and took an edge well.

A few side steps to feel it out, and then one hop turn for good measure and to rotate my tips facing into the rock wall, not out into the abyss. Stepping down gingerly, I reached the rocky crux and tried not to shed the snow. Josh and Beau were wide eyed and had stopped taking pics, telling me afterwards that they hadn’t wanted to record my demise. It felt spicy, but digestible. The edges released, and I slid through the narrow patch of snow and dropped a few feet before engaging them again. Then, thrusting fists full of sharp objects into snow, I stopped.

Resting the legs.

The snow was better and better as we worked our way down. You wouldn’t know it by watching him, but Josh said he hadn’t been skiing much this season. Really impressive that he was diving right into this terrain.

The fixed rope was a good idea. One at a time we climbed up and out while yarding on prussik, or klimheist knots, attached to the rope. A little follow cam of Beau on the lower “Becky” and back to camp.

The wind continued to blow and snow was falling back at camp. I brought along the Hoop Dreams 4 for it’s virgin outing. It’s a spacious dwelling for one, and a cramped shelter to host a picnic for five. These mega-mid style single pole tents are sweet for snow camping in mild weather. I like what Mountain Hardwear has done by making them circular and adding a hoop. This shape seems to be sturdier and sheds wind better. They do require many stakes and are a little finicky to erect, but great once they are up. They have more headroom than most lightweight tents, and it’s nice to be able to dig snow right out of the ground to melt water. We sat around looking at maps, considering plans, cramping, and feasting.

Later, the guys were climbing around on the ice and found a cool cave. The “ice bar” provided more headroom. The weather was a bit more than we were expecting and not conducive for a traverse. We decided to pack it in, then base out of Cooke City. It was a long, windy slog out, but I think we made a good call because the next few days were incredible! Beartooth’s Part 2 coming soon.

Reverence is the best word I can find to describe how it feels now to have safely traveled some classic descents that were opened up by several of my steep skiing hero’s. Huge thanks to KT, Pat, Josh, and Beau for letting me tag along!