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Avery
climber
New Zealand
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chappy
Social climber
ventura
What a great thread. George's ascents of Alberta and North Twin (along with Jock and Chris!)introduced me to the Canadian Rockies. Their ascents were very inspirational to me and led to my taking trips up there for three straight years 75,76 and 77. I even managed to get up a few things--most notably the ramp route on Kitchener in late Sept. of 77 with Ron Kauk. We thought of doing the Grand Central as it was in perfect form (if there is such a thing in the Rockies). The Ramp route was challenging enough at that time. Still have a few scars to remind me! I have so much respect for anyone who has climbed any of those big north face routes--especially the remote ones like N. Twin and Alberta.
Chappy
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Avery
climber
New Zealand
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Cool thread, thanks Avery and to all who have posted.
Alberta is really one of those "mythical" mountains, that you really have to do, kind of like the N face of the Eiger, or maybe the Bachar-Yurian in Touloumne. A mix of both perhaps, add in a bit of the south face of the Marmolada in the Dolomites and some of the N face of the Courtes in Cham, mix them all together and there you go. Add some hectic rockfall in there nowdays to bring it up to date and the roulette wheel favours the house.
I really liked climbing in the Canadian Rockies. I liked climbing there because everything is far from the road and all of it required a self sufficiency that is fast disappearing in this connected world. We had an epic on Edith Cavell that I remember far more clearly than our ascent of Alberta. I also liked following in the footsteps of Dave Cheesemond, a fellow South African, who is still sorely missed by many. (Just finished reading Barry's book. Great read, great letter to the Big Cheese) All I can say is that Julie and I had a lot of fun climbing in the Rockies, both in summer and winter. We might have been slow and steady, but we got there in the end and we enjoyed every minute of it.
I have only one regret and that is not climbing N Twin. Went there twice with different partners but the wall was badly out of condition both times. Such is life and these things happen, a strong sense of mortality superseded ambition. It was the wise and the happy choice.
Many Thanks
Andy de Klerk (Mountain climber, South Africa)
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Avery
climber
New Zealand
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7th ascent: Peter Arbic and Tim Auger, 1992.
Tim (Auger) and I planned it around the full moon. Belayed the whole lower bit cause we only had leather boots and there was tons of stone-fall on the ice field . We were past the yellow bands by 11 and would have moved faster if we had put the rock shoes on sooner . Rock is for the most part excellent. The crux pitch had a shitty belay and not great gear , Tim used a big hook . A few more pitches of good rock brought us a nice ledge. We fixed the last pitch before Tim did this wild king swing in fading light to a trickle of water out on the face. Comfy enough bivy, cook up by the full moon. Tim said I snored . In the morning we watched two climbers approach across the glacier just down and left of the face, unloaded a couple of boxcars worth of rock at them. They turned around. Some guy from Vegas? We had as leisurely a breakfast as you can , got up to the ice and on the summit around noon, stumbled euphorically in to the hut , before sundown. We were lucky, I had a very good , very smart , partner. He's pretty lucky too. (1992)
Peter Arbic
Thanks to Peter Arbic
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Andy de klerk
Mountain climber
South Africa
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Thanks to Avery for re-igniting this thread.
Thanks to Tim for a heartfelt post. I never met Tobin but would very much have liked to. The many stories about Tobin related here on this forum attest to the pioneer that he was. He was a half generation before me, but we read about his exploits late into the night while we burned with the same passion far away in South Africa.
As one of the people fortunate enough to have climbed the North Face of Alberta, all I can say is that Tobin was far, far ahead of his time in terms of his vision of Alpinism. Alberta still hasn't been soloed, but it will be soon. Colin Haley, Uli Steck. Andre Le Clerc and a whole new generation are now doing the things that Tobin saw were possible all those years ago. That is what is so brilliant about climbing: each wave of new climbers stands on top of the shoulders of the previous and they take climbing to new heights with new visions and new directions, and Tobin had pretty high shoulders.
They say that every man should father a child, build a house, and plant a tree in order to have lived a complete life. I'm not sure if Tobin did any of these, but in any event, he did good on Alberta and we cherish him for trying to do the impossible, too early by a long way, and his vision and legacy remains very much current and in the foreground. Andy
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Avery
climber
New Zealand
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Thanks Andy,
Nice to hear from you.
Tobin was a hero of mine. His short visit to NZ in the winter of 1979 was truly momentous. Unfortunately, I started climbing a couple of years latter, so I never got the chance to meet him. I'm really looking forward to Rick's upcoming biography.
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eeyonkee
Trad climber
Golden, CO
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I've climbed with George now for over 25 years and it always blows me away to read of his past exploits -- you'll never hear them from him.
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'Pass the Pitons' Pete
Big Wall climber
like Ontario, Canada, eh?
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A great and chilling compilation that paradoxically makes my hands sweat. Brrrrrrr.....
Thanks, Patrick.
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neebee
Social climber
calif/texas
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hey there say, avery... thanks for all these neat shares, ... nice to see you, here, again... :)
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Avery
climber
New Zealand
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Chris Jones
Social climber
Glen Ellen, CA
Our first close-up view of Alberta's north face was both scary and humbling. In 1970 Denny Eberl, Gray Thompson and I hiked up the Athabasca River with the idea of climbing Alberta and then Columbia. Our plan was to outfox Alberta by attacking the black rock band at what appeared to be a point of weakness - the northwest ridge. The note from a 1963 Vulgarian party we found at our bivi was not encouraging: "Go back, go back to the pass, you will all be killed." After some reasonable climbing we found ourselves at the foot of a pillar of black rock. (Looking at the marked photo in Steve Swenson's account in the thread above, in profile to the right of the north face one can see a lesser-angled arete abut the final steepness; I believe we were at this point). In casting around leftwards for a better way we suddenly came upon a deathly view across the north face of Alberta. Suddenly with thousands of feet of incredible exposure thrust upon us we were awestruck. No one of us had ever done anything quite like this!
Our route on the pillar to the summit icefield seemed so near, but the situation was bad. No anchor worth a damn, and no protection to speak of. We backed off.
But a year or so later, Alberta's north face became a climb I badly wanted to try. Sidelined by a ski accident in 1972, I was stunned when I learned that George Lowe, my old climbing pal from Chamonix, had seized the prize. I realized that the Rockies were no longer a quiet backwater and that I had better get on with it.
In Lowe's account of the Alberta climb above, there is a rather fraught picture laconically titled: "Approaching the second pendulum on the complex pitch: Jock Glidden follows." As the above account makes clear, Lowe did all the significant leading on the headwall. Talking about the climb one day, George said of this picture. "When Jock got to the belay I was amazed to see he was not clipped into the jumars." Glidden was not a climber remotely at George's level. He evidently did not know how to use jumars, and to my knowledge had never climbed in Yosemite and learned contemporary techniques; skills you needed on these new Rockies climbs. This confidence in his ability, and his willingness to lead all the hard climbing, sets George apart in that era. Certainly, if I had had a chance to attempt Alberta in 1972, I would have wanted the strongest partner known to me. And that would have been George, or his cousin Jeff Lowe.
Thanks to Chris Jones
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Avery
climber
New Zealand
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8th Ascent: Jon Walsh and Chris Brazeau, 2006.
Mt. Alberta North Face The climb: We soloed the shrund (which was easy), and simulclimbed to the traverse ledge where we unroped. After the bulk of the ice-field, we angled right and traversed below a rib of the yellow band and found short WI 3 steps through it, that led to the base of the headwall, and a obvious natural system of grooves and corners. Here we roped up and swapped leads to the summit. The headwall pitches are described as follows: Pitch 1 - 25m: up the left facing corner (shattered rock) and slightly right to a small stance before the next corner... M6 Pitch 2 - 45m: Up the corner (better rock) for about 15 meters. When the crack pinches shut and the wall overhangs, make a delicate finger traverse right with no pro for 6 meters to a ledge (possible belay here). Continue up a hand crack to a pedestal belay stance below and right of prominent yellow rock scar... 5.10+ Pitch 3 - 55m: Up left facing corner and move left past prominent yellow rock scar. Continue up left facing corner past the roof (crux) and up the crack above (sustained) to another small stance... 5.11b Pitch 4 - 50m: Up the groove above (minimal gear), and follow the mixed weakness left, then right, to a finger crack in a corner, through a roof and step right to a good stance. We belayed here off two good ice screws in a pool of ice that formed below a small overhang, and a piton... 5.10 R Pitch 5 - 40 m: Traverse left in an arc with difficult gear towards a ledge and a right facing corner. Belay before the corner. One piton fixed midway - only gear left on route... 5.10 + / 5.11- (we tried going straight up but backed off on 5.11 R terrain with friable rock) Pitch 6 - Up the corner, and contour left towards the exit ice field. Continue up ice until out of rope... 5.10- WI3 Three more 70 meter pitches up the very brittle upper icefield (maximum 60 %) and some simul climbing up the NE ridge gets you to the summit. The Rack (what we brought - it seemed to be perfect, at least for us): 5 screws; cams: 2 each from #.3 camelot to #1 camelot, one #2, one #3 camelot; 1 set of stoppers; 9 pitons (mainly knife-blades and lost arrows); one pair of rock shoes (critical!). Other details: It's hard to imagine having better conditions than what we had. The rock was just warm enough for bare hands, and there was virtually no natural rockfall. It was cold enough that ice and snice provided good purchase for both tools and crampons. All pitches were on-sighted on lead, and most have run-out sections, and some marginal gear. The second and third belays were also on the marginal side, but might have been better with an extra piton or two. Although our feet were on rock 90 to 95 percent of the time, I wore my crampons the entire way, and Chris put our only pair of rock shoes on for two of his three leads (although both of those leads required some climbing in boots as well). It was just mixed enough that crampons were an important asset on the headwall. Being avid mixed participants, we're used to climbing a lot of rock in our crampons, however, others might be better off in rock shoes under the same or drier conditions.
Jon Walsh (With his kind permission) http://alpinestyle.ca/
Mt. Alberta, Brazeau-Walsh. (1,000m, 5.11 M6)
On September 6 Jon Walsh and I forded the frigid waters of the Sunwapta River with a bit of food, lots of fancy-wrapped processed sugar/caffeine products, and high hopes for good conditions on the remote and seldom visited north face of Mt. Alberta. After a few hours of fitful sleep in Lloyd Mackay hut, we woke at midnight to brew coffee and oats. A full moon greeted us as we made our way to the rappels to the base of the face. However, the moon snuck behind the bulk of the mountain and, despite Jonny Red having rapped to the base before (and sketching out the same way due to poor conditions), we missed the rappel line, lightened our already skimpy rack, and increased our doubts. What are we doing here? Why can’t we just sport climb in the sun? Or drink coffee in the sun, for that matter? But with dawn comes fresh thoughts and psyche, as we get our first look at the face, which appears to be in perfect shape. There’s a weakness to the right of the Lowe-Glidden 1972 route (nice work boys!) that jumps out at us, and we have no need to discuss it. What a magnificent day!
Not a cloud in the sky, a pristine mountain environment, glaciers rolling down to valley bottom, seldom-seen and even less-visited alpine meadows and lakes, and not another soul for days.It feels so good to be here it’s a little disconcerting. I take a load off on the glacier as JR charges on, thinking (rightly, it turns out) that we won’t be sitting down for a while. By the time I catch up he’s racked and 15' off the deck, trailing a rope. Fired up! We simul the first few pitches to the big ice field, then put the ropes away and… what luck! The ice is perfect for one-swing sticks, and we move quickly to the base of the headwall. We rope up again and are engaged, swapping leads and finding perfect conditions: a fine balance of iced-up crack and good pick placements, warm enough for hands-on rock climbing but cold enough to keep the ice from delamming. What luck! How many factors had to come together to make for these conditions and for us to be here at this moment?
These thoughts roll around in my mind, tumbling with my doubts and fears as we slowly move upward. I don our one pair of rock shoes for a couple of pitches. Jon follows in his bootsand crampons; the aiders and ascenders stay in the pack. What luck! We top out on the summit ice field in the last rays of the day, only a few easy ice pitches to go. The fears and doubts ebb but leave that exhilarating buzz that will linger for days. Hugs on top, followed by some chocolate and a green tea brew. Jon finally gets to sit down after 21 hours on the go. The hazy sky dims the full moon, but the views of the Columbia Ice fields are incredible and inspire talk of future adventures. All we have to do now is get down one UGLY chossy descent, and watch the breaking of another new day as we stumble back to the hut 30 hours after leaving it.
How lucky we felt that everything came together and we were able to journey to the mountain, and on.
Chris Brazeau, Canada
Thanks to Jon Walsh.
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Avery
climber
New Zealand
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Jun 10, 2016 - 05:05pm PT
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9th Ascent: Steve House and Vince Anderson, 2008.(1st in Winter
conditions)
Massive Vinny
climber
Steve & I climbed it March 24-27, not in April & not (technically) in winter, though the temperatures (-10 F at the start) & snowy conditions (with avalanches on the descent) felt that way. The Aurora Borealis during the approach, the ridiculously good dry-tooling in a blizzard, the ancient, dragontail-like ice pitch in the dark and the second bivy (unplanned & our coldest ever): all moments forever etched in my memory. Climbing Mount Alberta's North Face ranks as one of the finest alpine climbing experience I've ever had.
The log book at the hut may as well be The Bible of North American Alpinism, if that is your religion. Not so much for the entries from who climbed Alberta, but from the numerous luminaries who did not: all untold stories & events, that had they succeeded, would've been well known.
Nice place!
Vince Anderson
Mt. Alberta, Anderson-House. (VI WI5+ M8 R/X)
At 4:30 a.m. on March 26, 2008, in bitter cold, Steve House and I left the Lloyd McKay hut and approached the ridge leading to the rappel station down to the north face of Mt. Alberta. A harsh breeze made it was hard to fully appreciate the beauty of the aurora display on the northern horizon, dazzling and ominous at the same time. After rappelling onto the northern slopes, my losing and then finding one of my ice tools, sometime between 9 and 9:30 we arrived at the base of the north face, roped up, and started the real climbing.
We climbed what we may be the common approach pitches, probably M5, though photos in the guidebook seem to put the normal start farther right, and where we went did not feel that “climbed.” Anyway, we reached the base of the ice (snow) field in three pitches. We put the ropes away and soloed the incredibly steep (for snow climbing) face, passing the occasional bare ice patch. Near the Yellow Band, the snow yielded to the typical steely, hard, gray ice you’d expect there. We got the ropes out again and did three easy but scrappy mixed pitches through the Yellow Band to the base of the steep, rock headwall. The weather deteriorated, and it started to snow and cloud over. We considered bailing to the Northeast Ridge, but continued convincing ourselves that retreat would still be feasible from a short ways higher. We could see the start of the Gladden-Lowe route nearby, but found a crack system 60m right that looked like better climbing in these winter conditions. Two long, difficult pitches (M7 and M8R/X) of high-quality dry-tooling led up and left to intersect the G-L above its third pitch, in the snowy alcove described for that climb. Here the G-L angles up and right onto a buttress, but we found a steep, narrow ice pillar above. It was now about dark, probably 9 p.m., and we hoped to find a decent bivouac spot above the obvious ice. After an exhausting bout with this pitch (cold, black ice) and one more short pitch through snow mushroom s, we found a bivy spot between mushroom s that was somewhat protected from the now-frequent spindrift avalanches. We fixed 30' of the next pitch, and by 1 a.m. we were finally settled in and ready to try to sleep. The night was cold, but tolerable. Our down sleeping bags had gotten a little wet, but we hoped to avoid another night on the mountain.We woke after 6 a.m. and slowly made our way out of our wet cocoons and back onto the climb. Steve had done the bulk of the hard leading the previous day, so I took the sharp end and started up a small ice corner to the end of the water ice. A small ledge system then traversed right, towards the G-L and the summit ice slopes. Deep snow covered the airy traverse, which required belly crawling and precarious tip-toeing to reach a niche with more moderate ground above. By now, most of our gloves were frozen hard and semi-useless from constant immersion in the snow, making it quite difficult to manipulate the gear. Another few pitches of good mixed climbing up flakes, corners, and slabs covered in thin neve (M7 and M6) brought us back to the G-L exit pitch. A short bit of moderate mixed terrain put us onto the upper slopes, from where we continued straight up on slabby mixed, because we thought the exit traverse onto the ice seemed convoluted. The ground we climbed, however, would probably be less attractive in summer conditions. A 150m pitch put us onto the summit ridge and gave us our first glimpse of the sun in two days. At 5:45 p.m. we stopped briefly on top before heading down the corniced south ridge toward the Japanese Route. Unsure of where to descend the east face, we guessed the wrong gully and spent a truly miserable night out, shivering in our frozen, useless sleeping bags, before brilliant morning sunshine greeted us on the 28th. By 10 a.m. we were safely in the flat basin and slogged back to the hut, where we could eat, drink, and rest a bit before heading out for Steve’s truck.
Vince Anderson, AAC
Thanks to 'Massive Vinny'
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Avery
climber
New Zealand
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Jun 11, 2016 - 12:46am PT
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10th Ascent: Jay Mills and Dana Ruddy, 2009.
What makes Mount Alberta so impressive to me is how remote it is. It’s a full day from the road to the base of the North face and involves multiple glacier crossings and a rap to reach its base. There is a hut that sits at about 9500ft at the base of the East face of Alberta which offers climbers a warm night and dry spot in bad weather. As is common in the Rockies the long approaches often add to the challenge of the climb.
Alberta is also very hard to find in good condition. When I climbed it we were hoping for rock climbing conditions to allow fast travel. We found good conditions but not great, as the face had a thin layer of ice and snow which added to the challenge.
One thing many people don't know is that you can see the North Face of Alberta from Jasper town site. There is one spot on the very west end of town that on a perfectly clear day you can make out the pyramid shaped ice face that makes the NF of Alberta so indistinguishable. When I climbed the face we topped out on the rock climbing at about 1 am and took a short break. I will always remember looking to the north and feeling comforted by the lights of Jasper some 80 km away. Then we were up to the summit at about 4 am and made our way over the famous summit ridge in the light of the full moon as the sun rose over the Columbia ice fields. We got to watch the north face of the north twin slowly appear from the darkness as night turned to day. Good memories!
Thanks to Dana Ruddy
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AP
Trad climber
Calgary
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Jun 11, 2016 - 09:09am PT
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The big prize up here is still the Lowe Hat Trick: N Twin, Alberta,Geike
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Avery
climber
New Zealand
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Jun 11, 2016 - 09:23pm PT
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11th Ascent: Jason Kruk and Joshua Lavigne, 2012.
From September 6th to the 9th I teamed up with my good friend Josh Lavigne from Canmore for a rare ascent of the north face of Mt. Alberta. I hadn't had a good Rockies alpine hit for almost a year. I'm usually a pretty easy going guy, but I was going to start flipping tables if I missed my shot at trying a big Rockies rig this time. The weather was going to be splitter but a large amount of fresh snow had already accumulated in the mountains and temps were looking fresh overnight. Conditions on the north faces seemed pretty wintery. Mount Alberta immediately came to mind as a good objective. The snow was hopefully forming good névé on the boilerplate ice face and the headwall, while steep, wasn't as big as say, something really big like the North Twin. We'd hopefully have more than enough good weather to deal with the particularly slow nature of the difficult alpine drytooling we expected to encounter.
The long hike up the Cromwell valley and over Whooley Shoulder to the ACC's Alberta Hut was very familiar, having done it on two previous occasions. This time my mind was at rest. To be honest, after dropping in on two epic attempts at the neighboring North Twin, it felt like I was on a bit of an alpine vacation.
We left the hut at 4:20 the next morning, and followed our noses to the base of Alberta. We took only one 30L backpack and one small hydration pack for the leader. Shockingly light, modern gear is incredible. At the bottom of my pack was one of those new deluxe therm-a-rests and a small ovular tarp Josh had stitched up, hopefully our slim bivy setup would remain unused. Ha ha. Unfortunately, we bumbled around a little bit in the dark, unable to locate the rappel necessary to gain the glacier below the north face. We ended up committing to a few new rappels, just to get it over with. Sometimes a little beta on route finding ain't so bad. We were climbing in my favorite style: with new route eyes. Meaning no topos, no beta, just climbing what looked best. Pure adventure climbing. It gets me fired up every time!
Day light broke and we got our first look at the face. During an ascent of the north face in winter conditions, every climber must be drawn to the incredible WI5+ pillar that forms seemingly reliably halfway up the headwall. It's one of the classiest stretches of ice I've seen on a big mountain route, and provides easy (or easier) passage around what would otherwise be very time-consuming steep drytooling... At least for a pitch. We were aiming for the water ice, and would drytool above and below it, that was the plan.
We soloed around a gaping-schrund and belayed two easy mixed rock pitches to get established on the ice face. Coiling the ropes, we soloed the ice to the base of the yellow band. I thought conditions were pretty good, we climbed through everything: supportive, boot-top powder; névé; hard, old ice; fresh blue stuff. The pitches through the yellow band were low-angle and easy, but insecure and required care, with lots of fresh snow over supremely chossy stone. Eventually, we were below the headwall, staring up. We followed ground climbed by Steve House and Vince Anderson in 2008 to the top of the ice feature we were gunning for. Stacked pitches of real deal M7 gained the ice. Josh did a bang-up job at the lead here. At the crux of the House-Anderson, Josh whipped off the sloping, snowed-up holds four times, eventually ripping out the shaky pin placed on the first ascent. Finally, only upon my suggestion, he conceded and stepped in a shoulder sling to get past the move troubling us. This was the only bit of aid for the leader or second on the entire route.
Wow, the waterfall ice pitches were stellar! Wildly overhanging, but with a good stem out right on rock where needed. Josh and I have both climbed a lot of this stuff, and ranked this ice feature very near the top of the list of all time classic ice. A short stretch of mixed lay above and I climbed this to the point where the ice was flowing from. I mantled on top of an icy ledge and peered inside the cave feature, it appeared to be a pretty stellar bivy. The small opening at the back of the cave was also intriguing, I wondered if the cave continued deeper. We knew we had to climb up and right from this point if we wanted the easiest way off the headwall. It was longer and steeper up and left. I explored a ledge out right leading hopefully to a system we spied from below.
The ledge was choked with snow had a bulging wall above it, forcing you off balance. As I awkwardly switched from wallowing across on my knees to tip-toes, I tried to imagine a couple of big dudes like Vince and Steve balancing across this ledge and really couldn't! An email from Vince I later received confirmed they had in fact used this ledge to traverse to easier ground. From this perspective I also got a good look at the thin crack systems that led back out left, straight up and through the steepest part of the headwall remaining. Wild-looking climbing, but too tempting to resist. The rock quality up to this point had been reasonable. A real connoisseur might call it choss, but it was sufficiently held together by cold temps and snow and ice to protect adequately on the bits where you needed it most. We still had a bit of time before dark to continue upwards, but I reckoned a decent night’s sleep would be better for the steeps above, and besides, I really wanted to explore the cave!
Josh joined me at the cave entrance and we agreed a stop here would be the best tactic. We poked our heads inside the cave and a large room appeared. A horizontal oasis in a vertical desert. It was great to take off helmets and harnesses and move around freely. Josh dealt with the gear and I grabbed my headlamp to go explore. Right away the cave opened to flat ground and easy walking. A very fine yellow silt lined the ground, the smooth twisting walls were coated with very large rime ice crystals and there was a very slight breeze. I explored deeper into the cave for about 5 minutes until I became a little scared by myself. I turned around to go get Josh.
We must have walked that thing for 20 minutes or more, going deeper and deeper into Mt. Alberta. I was sure we would dead-end soon, but we'd turn a corner and another hidden hallway would appear, luring us further. After several hundred meters of exploration we both decided we should probably get back to the task of climbing this big face. Were we going to follow this thing to the end? We came to climb, not cave, really. We were pretty hungry and thirsty, so we turned around to go brew up.
At first light I led out around the left side of the roof of the cave, directly up the headwall. The exposure was an intense wake up... way better than the Starbucks instant coffee we had just gulped down. Steep, thin drytooling with awkward feet. The rock was pretty sh#t. I left the gear at the lip of the roof and climbed further and further above it. I was conscientious of the shift in my focus from my initial terror as I entered the no-fall zone to a very deep mental clarity. I maintained a sort-of acute attention to every detail, my mind completely free of excess noise. Slow, systematic upward progress, crucial for survival up this terrain. I was jolted into reality when without warning a large, unstable pillar of rock I was stemmed around collapsed, hitting me in the chest and falling between my feet. It brushed by the ropes, I felt a tug on my harness but I maintained hold of my tool placements torqued in a thin crack. Had the ropes been clipped through any gear I would have likely been pulled from my strenuous stance. I was hoping the trundled rock would reveal solid protection behind it but no such luck. I gave myself a quick mental pep talk. It's hard to fully relax with mono-point crampons balanced on small edges. I reminded myself this is the very thing I live for and there was no other place in the world I'd rather be in this moment. My only way out was up. It's always a weird feeling for me to leave a resting point mid runout and continue questing onwards. I delicately hooked and scratched my way up the remainder of the pitch, locking back into meditation and striving for complete precision and perfection of movement. The belay required time and creativity to construct and I was feeling very tired mentally upon securing myself to the anchor.
Josh swung through and led a shorter pitch up and right. Another steep pitch on better rock followed, still forcing large runouts though. Briefly on this pitch was the only time during the route I would remove my gloves and crimp on the thin edges instead of hook them with my ice tools. I stopped short at a sheltered stance out left, brought Josh up. The next pitch looked like a blockbuster. I could feel we were nearing the very top of the highest point of the headwall. Above, a slightly overhanging feature of stacked changing corners continued out of sight. Josh was stoked to swing through on lead. Steep, psychical drytooling, good gear and tool placements when needed kept his momentum going through the wild terrain. After following a full pitch of strenuous climbing I reached the final crux overhang that Josh had pulled way out from the belay. I was overwhelmed with appreciation for the outrageous position and difficult climbing we were blessed with on this adventure. Another outrageous pitch of M7+++. The summit ridge was now in our sites, but another long pitch of low angle mixed ground remained between us and the end of the difficulties. This sort of climbing is frustratingly insecure; my periodic efforts at digging for protection were pretty much pointless. I balanced upward on my frontpoints, knowing it would be over soon. I reached solid glacier ice and sunk in two bomber screws, relieved to have it in the bag. Josh swung through up the ice to the ridge and we simul-climbed the remainder of the double-corniced ridge to the summit of Mt. Alberta.
We traversed over the summit and along the long ridge south to what we were pretty sure were the top pitches of the Japanese Route and committed to a rappel descent. Deep snow obscured a few of the rappels, forcing us to leave behind a few pieces, but likely reduced the amount of rockfall we endured while pulling the ropes down after each rappel.
The lower eastern flanks of Mt. Alberta are somewhat confusing to descend onsight. The scrambling required to navigate around the steep cliffbands was super in-obvious in the fading light, then dark. We likely could have made it back to level ground that night if we committed to more rappelling directly, but we conceded to another cold night under the soggy tarp, spooning on our single thermarest.
We were tired, satisfied, and happy back at the hut. After a brief meal and siesta, we shouldered our packs and started the long trek back to the highway at a slow, steady pace. The reality of a perfect mission was starting to set in. It's always a bit of a guessing game choosing the right route and hoping for certain conditions. Sometimes you guess right.
As far as the satisfaction of a successful climb, I was already thinking about the next adventures to come. It's nice to just be able to relax and enjoy every step along the way in the process of alpine climbing... and life in general. It's all just a pretty neat adventure.
Many thanks to Jason Kruk
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'Pass the Pitons' Pete
Big Wall climber
like Ontario, Canada, eh?
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Jun 12, 2016 - 05:09pm PT
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Holy crap! This is one of the best threads to ever appear on McTopo!
Huge thanks, Patrick. You need to link this in alpine forums so the Proper Climbers can read it.
Caving for hundreds of metres INSIDE of Mt. Alberta?! Unbelievable!!
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Avery
climber
New Zealand
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Jun 13, 2016 - 04:22am PT
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11th Ascent: Jason Kruk and Joshua Lavigne, 2012. Cont...
http://.smugmug.com/
Thanks to Joshua Lavigne
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Avery
climber
New Zealand
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Jun 13, 2016 - 06:51pm PT
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12th Ascent: Nick Bullock and Will Sim, 2014.
http://willsim.blogspot.co.nz/
Somehow we pulled it off, the plan A, the big one, shit; i didn't think that ever happened.
The North Face of Alberta is what I’d call a mythical face. In form, its pyramidal spike of a gable-end is so pleasingly intimidating; it must be one of the most spectacular faces i know of. This incredible photo by the aerial photographer John Scurlock is what inspired me a few months ago to put the N face of Alberta at the very top of my list of things to do.
Although only really a marginal window for what we wanted to attempt, it was our last chance so we had to take it. What we were wanting to attempt was the House-Anderson line on the N Face of Alberta. An incredible looking line which was put up at the end of winter, 7 years ago by the amazingly driven American team of Steve House and Vince Anderson.
With most of our gear stashed up there already, we made the walk in over Woolley Shoulder pretty fast and were chilling out in the sun for most of the afternoon before we left.
The alarm went at 2.30a.m. and it all felt right. It's amazing how different you can feel before an intimidating route, sometimes you'll do anything for that alarm not to go off, sometimes you can't wait to get on with it. After forcing a bagel and a litre of water down my neck we got wrapped up and headed out in to the perfect crisp morning.
To get to the bottom of the N face you have to make a series of raps to the lower glacier which feeds off the face. After walking for an hour we were nearly at the point where we down climbed to make the first abseil when i made a horrifying discovery. My belay plate was not on my harness. What the f*#k! How is that possible? After quickly checking the contents of my bag it was obvious i didn't have it. My magic plate has been attached to my alpine harness for about 5 years, i never take it off, along with two slings a screw-gate and a ropeman i never remove it for the precise reason that it would be catastrophic to not have it in a situation like this. After some brief thoughts of anger at myself and how cruel it all seemed, my mind immediately flicked on to thinking of alternative methods of belaying and abseiling. With about 5 raps to get to the route, multiple pitches of very technical climbing, and god knows how many raps to get off the mountain, my belay plate was going to be sorely missed. Nick wanted to bail immediately; the wind had got up and stood freezing ourselves while having a debate about how possible the route would be with one belay plate things had suddenly got desperate in just an hour from waking up. I did my best to persuade Nick and in the end he agreed to give it a shot, i owe him for giving it a chance, with roles reversed I’m not sure what I’d do. I still don't know where my belay plate is.
We made about 4 abseils, 2 of which were free hanging, plus some down climbing to make it to the lower glacier. We managed to leave as little gear as we could, conscious that we needed to conserve it for the climbing ahead. I now know we actually abbed off the wrong spur, and it would have been better to go 200 metres further north.
With this over, we were now beneath one of the most inspiring faces I’ve ever stood beneath, and we could see it was absolutely plastered with whiteness, it looked awesome, so we strolled over to the schrund and got stuck in.
The brilliant line of the House-Anderson goes up the ice streaks in the centre of the headwall, with hard mixed climbing above and beneath, this is why i love alpine climbing, the lines on big mountains are just so inspiring. The pitches up to the top ice blob had been repeated by Canadians Jason Kruk and Joshua Lavigne when they climbed their great looking new line on the left side of the headwall in 2012.
We climbed the last few pitches of day one in the dark. A 50 metre pitch of bullet-hard WI5+with wild stemming on the right wall was exhausting. The pitch above was an incredible yet very worrying skin of vertical and overhanging ice. Nick put up a brilliant lead, and I’ll leave it to him to tell the story of how he climbed it. I spent the whole pitch belaying with my bag on top of my head as i was directly in the firing line.
A pitch later and we were relieved to find the legendary cave feature that Kruk and Lavigne found. Although we knew it was there, we didn't know for sure whether we'd be able to get in to it, or if it was iced over or blocked somehow. We were relieved to be able to enter it and have the most surreal bivy of our lives. Narrow to begin with, we crawled to where it opened out and it felt like entering a cathedral. A huge tube covered in rime ice penetrated in to the mountain. We weren't sure how deep to go, as we needed to have some indication of light outside, but it goes deep, really deep.
We didn't take bivy kit, i had a duvet jacket and some insulated trousers, curled up on the ropes and had a few hours of shivering with occasional bouts of sleep.
After leaving the cave, we climbed a few pitches then hit a kind of dead end. Nick went up and left, and belayed beneath a steep blank looking wall. I started up one weakness, which after a little excavation turned out to be a blank seam. I then traversed right and noticed a steep flake firing up the wall, it looked improbable but i got involved anyway. I battled my way up it with arms exploding for the final 10 metres. I think given the circumstances it was one of my hardest leads. I've done much easier VIII's in Scotland.
Three continually tricky pitches later and we were off the headwall. 150 metres of easy angled rock and ice lay above us which we climbed in three long pitches to reach the south East Ridge.
By this point the weather had taken a real turn for the worse. It was windy and snowing, and as so often is the case with these things, we walked straight over the summit, no hug, no handshake not even an acknowledgement that we were on top. The alarm bells were starting to sound in my head, we needed to get as far down the mountain as we could before darkness and the weather worsened still.
After down climbing the summit ridge, which seemed to take forever, we located the top of the Japanese route and started abseiling down the east face. The Japanese route, the easiest route up the mountain is probably the worst heap of choss I’ve ever seen. Extreme care was needed not to chop the ropes or worse with falling rock when we abbed. The night went on and on and once finished with the abseiling we started down climbing the easier angled lower sections. In the dark and snow it was very hard to navigate, and we were cliffed out everywhere we went. In the end we decided to call it and spent another night shivering in a fetal position. I got my head under a boulder and tried to find a happy place.
After scrutinizing photos I’d taken a few days earlier of the mountain in good weather, i managed to work out where we were, and the next morning, with blocks of wood for feet, we stumbled out on to the glacier after the most intense bit of navigation I’ve ever done.
Sitting by a fire with a beer in my hand, it seems to be sinking in. But I’d like to say that climbing that line in March like Steve and Vince did is seriously inspiring. They must be made of tough stuff.
By Will Sim (With his kind permission)
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