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Avery
climber
New Zealand
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Dec 29, 2016 - 02:12pm PT
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11th Ascent: Jason Kruk and Joshua Lavigne, 2012.
By Jason Kruk
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 wintry. 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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Avery
climber
New Zealand
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Dec 30, 2016 - 02:56am PT
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11th Ascent: Jason Kruk and Josh Lavigne, 2012. Cont...
http://.smugmug.com/
Thanks to Josh Lavigne
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Avery
climber
New Zealand
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Dec 30, 2016 - 01:27pm PT
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11th Ascent: Jason Kruk and Josh Lavigne, 2012. Cont...
http://.smugmug.com/
Thanks to Josh Lavigne
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Avery
climber
New Zealand
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Dec 30, 2016 - 01:31pm 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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Todd Eastman
climber
Bellingham, WA
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Dec 30, 2016 - 06:25pm PT
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Wow!
Thanks for the stories and pics.
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Spiny Norman
Social climber
Boring, Oregon
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Climbing is better than political BS bump
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Avery
climber
New Zealand
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13th Ascent: Tom Livingston & Uisdean Hawthorn, 2016.
http://uisdeanhawthorn.com/
https://www.tomlivingstone.com/
We climbed the route in 44 hours hut to hut, reaching the cave at 6pm. On the first evening we stopped for 12 hours there and reached the summit at 1pm on the second.
We abseiled down to the glacier in one 60m rap (from the spur about 500m away from the start of the NE ridge). There is a cairn at the end of the spur. The abseil station is about 5-10 meters past the cairn.
Everything from there went smoothly. We did 2 pitches up the old north face route to access the ice field and could moved together all the way through the yellow band to the base of the headwall.
The route finding from here is fairly straight forward, but having some pictures from previous ascents really helped. The only place where we went the wrong way was on the second pitch out of the cave, here you head very slightly up and left for 10m up a booming pillar flake thing to a ledge (peg) then straight up a improbable flakes and cracks. This pitch is in a pretty wild position and one of the hardest on the route! (don’t head up cracks to the right towards the jumbo skud flakes on this pitch. Both Vince and myself did this ).
Getting along the ridge is okay but time consuming, the raps are fine but a bit loose and negotiating the cliff bands at the bottom is a total F** Ballicks. Take lots of pictures and study them intensely. We were very lucky and only just got off before it got dark. (If it was dark here we would've had to wait till the next morning, like everyone else who has done the House Anderson.)
It is a brilliant route with high quality climbing on mostly good rock in a very special setting. It's had 3/4 ascents so it's practically a Rockies classic!
Cheers
.Uisdean
Thanks to Uisdean Hawthorn
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Avery
climber
New Zealand
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Feb 14, 2017 - 11:17pm PT
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Bump for one terrific climb!
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Avery
climber
New Zealand
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Feb 15, 2017 - 08:28pm PT
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Bump again!!
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