Winter Mt. Whitney 2013

To Summit or not To Summit – Musings of a Sierra Mountain Guide

As I put away the expedition gear from my recent trip and place the kit back on the
racks in the garage, I find myself reflecting on the outcome of the trip I am returning
from. Drying the tent out, I think about the locations we used for camps and add a
little self critique as to if they could be improved on or not. Cleaning and putting the
cooking equipment away reminds me to look into a new pump for that ten year old
Primus stove that acted up a little on this last trip and may just be plum worn out.
Grabbing for the rope and rack, this time it is hard not to be a little dismayed. On
this trip we didn’t get a chance to use the technical equipment; weather came in on
us just hours before the wake up call for our attempt on the summit of Mt Whitney
in winter. While we made a thoughtful decision that most of the members of the
group were hoping to hear, not trying for the summit is still a bitter pill for me.

Having climbed and guided peaks on six continents, it is always fascinating to me

how one can find a ready challenge in your own back yard. Climbing Mt Whitney
during the winter months will always provide a challenge, but it is easy to forget
that even with the best preparation, all you need is a sudden change in weather to
throw a curve at you. Winds that make it hard to stand on your feet on flat ground
prove especially troubling climbing a steep couloir with some 3 rd and 4th class
rock. The added snowfall needs to be taken into consideration as well, as you don’t
want to climb the mountain, only to find the avalanche conditions to have changed
significantly on the slopes now below that must be crossed to return back to camp.
These problems can appear as readily on peaks close to home as they may in the
Andes or the Himalaya.

Without a doubt, proper planning and preparation are the key ingredients to a
successful trip. As a guide, this is where I see most groups fail to achieve their goal.
Perhaps they misjudged the difficulty of the route and couldn’t move fast enough,
or maybe they climbed too high on the first day of their trip, rendering legs useless
from the climb and heads hurting from the altitude. It all comes down to having
a good plan and knowing what to bring. But in the end, the mountain still sets its
terms, and no matter your level of experience, you won’t know what exactly what
to expect until you arrive. Examples of this happening to me flood to mind; a recent
trip to New Zealand to climb Mt Cook that shut my partner and I down to the point
of never setting foot on the mountain. Another trip to Ecuador that stymied us twice
on peaks, when strong wind and snowfall made us wonder if a safe descent from the
summit would be possible. Hasty retreat ensued in both instances, and we never
questioned our decision having endured the torment of the weather for several
hours before coming to it.

Back to Mt Whitney, it was a tough call we had to make that morning. The
conditions were pretty bad; the gusting wind was carrying frozen droplets of
moisture that pelted you in the face like little bb’s, and it certainly didn’t make sense
to roust everyone for the climb when we were almost being blown from our feet

just coming to the decision. Yet when you don’t try for the summit, you will always
be left not knowing the outcome of the attempt, had one been made. Would we
have turned back at Iceberg Lake having found it too difficult to keep our feet on
the ground? Would the stinging snow in our faces been enough to turn us back?
Or would the weather have broken and the summit come cleanly into grasp? In
the end the stormy clouds clung to the peak well into mid-afternoon, and reflecting
with our team on the descent from high camp that day, most were concerned about
simply leaving the tents that morning, no less enduring the weather on the more
extreme terrain of the climb. Sometimes it is just better to turn back and appreciate
the defeat, knowing simply it just wasn’t your day. While I sometimes struggle with
the undesired outcome, I never bemoan the fact that I still have all my fingers and
toes, and good decision-making has kept my partners and I from having a serious
accident in the mountains. Besides, if every climb was guaranteed to be a success,
what kind of adventure would that be?

Cheers and good hunting,
Jeff Witt

Summery Summary, Part 3: "Listers"

Jed's final post of the summer.  After one more Palisades trip he'll head to Washington for an AMGA exam.  He'll be back in October:  Bring on couloirs and rock climbing!

Forgive me, but I like to find themes that unify chunks of time in my memory.  My summer, 2012 has been easily divisible by 4: Part 1- Sweet sending.  Part 2- Big traversing.  Part 3- Family time.  Finally, this latter portion of my personal summer, has been chock-full of peak-bagging "listers".  I have spent a ton of time in the mountains with you folks who seek out the ticklists.  State high-pointers, county high-pointers, threshold listers (14ers, 13ers, 12ers, 11ers, even 10ers... yes, I'm serious), run-a-marathon-in-every-staters... the list of listers could go on and on.  Each person's lists are different, each persons motivations are personal, and everyone's tactics are unique.  What unites all of you is that you feel the need to somehow apologize for who you are.  And that's a shame.  Own it!  Find that motivation, go beyond what you think you can do, visit those places that no one else visits.  Rest assured that you are not alone and that we do not think you are ridiculous.  

Peakbagger extraordinaire, Teresa G. nearing the summit of Dragon Peak.  #840 something out of the "highest 1000 peaks in the contiguous US".  Shazam!

Cardio monster Joe L. on Thunderbolt's summit block.  Tough to get time away from work and family? Trying to climb all the lower 48 14ers and all the state highpoints and run a marathon in each state?  Just be uber fit, duh.

Fascinated with the lists?  Looking to go beyond the 14ers?  Yeah me too.  Teresa introduced me to listsofjohn.com.  To say "the list goes on" is an understatement.  

EUROPE TREKKING

Cancel the return flight

by: Guide Lyra Pierotti

I think I made a big mistake purchasing a round trip plane ticket for my trip to the Dolomites. Should have just gotten a one-way.

I just about passed out on our descent from Passo Falzarego. It may have been from having to skip lunch and run in cirlces to buy my bus ticket here and catch it there after finally locating the one person who could tetris together my complicated transportation needs; or perhaps the jet lag was catching up to me again; I suppose it could have been the fumes from the German cyclists who were airing out their socks in the bar at the passo; or perhaps again, it was just that stunning. I like to think the latter.

Either way, after a lovely couple of days visiting my mom and family friends Cate and Walt in Venice, I finally arrived in Badia, otherwise known at Abtei. In the south Tyrol, everything is in Italian and German. I had much more luck using Abtei. No idea why, but here I am. Abtei. Don't say Badia, everyone gets confused.
Stay tuned for some more spectacular photos (no compliment to myself, I think I could close my eyes and click the shutter and have a beautiful shot), and plenty of adventures as my client, Dan and I explore this mountainous Italo-German fusion land.

I am hoping to find this fusion beneficial to both cultures: perhaps buses and trains will run on schedule despite the fact that I'm still in Italy; and maybe the Germans have gotten a lesson in olfactory aesthetics.

Wedding Anniversary with Peter Croft

How to celebrate a wedding anniversary???  A day out with Peter Croft, perfect! Betsy was originally interested in Charlotte Dome, but after a few discussions everyone decided the best route for the special day should be The Third Pillar of Mt. Dana. This is a classic climb on amazing white granite.  Read more on Betsy and Ney's Blog, for their full experience.

Betsy climbing, photo: Ney G.

CAMP- Go Light Go Fast

	Since 1889   camp-usa.com camp-usa.com/cassin Golightgofast.com Blog   If you are having trouble viewing this email, CLICK HERE. If you periodically find our emails caught by your spam filter, add the camp-usa.com domain to your list of safe senders.   CURRENT ALPINE ROCK CONDITIONS UPDATE By Blake Herrington Are you ready for Alpine Rock season? July is nearly gone and the days are already getting shorter. But with the sun still high in the sky and very low snowpacks from a dismal winter in many prime mountain areas, the time is perfect for long alpine rock climbs. Many of the nation's premier alpine venues are perfect right now, but here's a region-specific roundup to help you plan your trip... READ MORE   LIGHTWEIGHT. PHANTOM PACK. The Phantom is a fully featured pack designed for alpine blitzes in all types of terrain and conditions. It is a universal favorite for our athletes who range in disciplines from alpine rock climbing where it excels as a lightweight on-route pack to light & fast peak baggers where it registers as about the lightest rig possible for carrying a light axe, crampons, layers and sustenance for a romp at altitude. The basic design is simple: 15 liters to carry that perfect amount of just enough, but not too much... READ MORE   MONTHLY GEAR GIVE AWAY In honor of Justin Lichter (aka Trauma), we are giving away a Phantom pack – a product that truly embodies the light & fast minimalist ethic being driven by the world's most prolific through-hiker – and a copy of his new book, 'Trail Tested: A Thru-Hiker's Insights Into Hiking & Backpacking,' that was released in May of 2012 and contains more applicable tips and tricks than any book we have ever read on the subject. For a complete review, see our post from May 14 HERE. Congratulations to last month's winner, Doug, who won a Laser CR harness from Cassin; our newest laminate construction big mountain harness. As a CAMP USA E-News subscriber, you are automatically entered in the monthly gear drawing. Tell your friends and good luck!     DISCLAIMER For any questions always refer to the C.A.M.P. USA website http://www.camp-usa.com/, C.A.M.P. Italy’s website http://www.camp.it/. For reference to any manufacturing or fall standards refer to the UIAA website http://www.theuiaa.org/. Warning: Climbing is dangerous. It is the sole responsibility of the purchaser or user of any C.A.M.P. technical adventure equipment to get proper instruction and to act safely and in accordance with the uses and specifications outlined by C.A.M.P. in its product literature. It is your responsibility to learn how to use the product safely. Product instruction manuals are available for download on all relevant product pages. If you have any questions about the specific function of a piece of climbing equipment, contact C.A.M.P. USA before use.

AMGA Certified Guides

*Sierra Mountain Guides was the first, and is currently one of the few, guide services in the US that require guides to be AMGA certified or actively on track toward certification in the guiding disciplines they work.

Elevation Outdoors

The Guide Line

by Doug Schnitzspahn on June 27, 2012

Haul Bag? Nope. The six-day AMGA rock guide exam requires climbers to learn client care beyond belays.

The American Mountain Guides Association (AMGA) is attempting to make sure people who go out climbing, mountaineering and skiing with guides get what they pay for. But in a culture that encourages free enterprise is Euro-style guiding the answer? It may be the only way to go as younger climbers buy into international accreditation and land managers nationwide demand that guides know what the hell they are doing.

Read the full article here at Elevation Outdoors Magazine!

Sterling Rope Gear Review

Trail Runner: Evolution Loop Fast Packing

~Trail Runner July 2012 Edition

Palisade Traverse, June 2012

Jon asked the typical questions.  "How many times have you done the Palisade Traverse?"  "Does it ever get boring?"  The first question does not have a ready answer, which is the reason that the second does.  First of all, it never gets boring in the Palisades.  That is because it is never the same twice.  I have indeed spent a lot of time on the ridge-crest between Thunderbolt and Sill.  Guiding and personal trips have had me up there linking at least four of the area's five "14ers" eight times in the last four years.  And that doesn't count the attempts that came up short.  I can honestly say that no two of those trips were at all alike.  This trip with ultra-running and self-deprecating B.A. Jon A. was no exception.  We wanted to get Jon up there early in the season, and keep us both in approach shoes the entire way.  We wanted to get some huge days of traversing under our harnesses.  Fulfilling these objectives would get Jon on his way to his next big mission.  Stay tuned, and in the meantime ponder that this was just Jon's "warm-up".

This view never gets old.

Anyway, we set out to tweak the standard guided Palisade Traverse itinerary.  Inspired by our very own Peter Croft's interpretation of this mega-classic traverse, we set out to approach and exit on the east and connect Winchell Col and Mt. Sill via the crest.  Measured on Google Earth (using my new favorite tech tool, USGS topo overlays available here) this section of ridge is a mile and a half.  The "meat" of it is found between Thunderbolt and Polemonium.  This section contains the best rock in the Palisades and the highest concentration of technical 14ers in the country.  And this section is just a half-mile long.  The often, and understandably, skipped NW ridge of Thunderbolt is a half-mile long on its own.  The mathematician will quickly deduce that the section from Polemonium to Sill is a half-mile long also.  In any case, we couldn't let Jon settle for anything less than the whole beast.

Jon and I met in Bishop on Tuesday morning to talk logistics and gear, then headed out to the North Fork of Big Pine Creek.  We busted in, as quickly as we could, to the Thunderbolt Glacier tarn camp.  We napped on Yosemite-style glacier polish and grubbed on a big fat steak.  That's livin'.

We woke with the sun on the chilly first morning and strode over to Winchell Col.  That NW ridge has rock that is a little looser than further along, but it is a totally worthy addition to the traverse.  We found mainly dry Cali rock, but did have to do some icy PataLaska style tunneling.

"This is just like Peak 11300, but different"

I hate to say it, but the section from Thunderbolt to North Palisade was almost "routine".  What a joy to traverse very familiar terrain with a strong partner.  I don't pretend to think that Jon felt it was routine, nor do I mean any disrespect to this chunk of terrain.  I was simply content to remember my first trip through that section a few years back and reflect on the accumulation of experiences there.  Jon, in his way, will down-play his own performance.  But, mark my words, the guy can move and tough it out.  As much as he talks about enjoying suffering, I can only guess the misery this 100 mile runner can stand.

The latter part of the day, up onto North Palisade.  Smack in the
middle of the High Sierra's own Circus Maximus.  

Sunset on North Palisade.  Thankfully camp is just a single rappel away.  Boo Yeah!

Morning lounging at 14k.  That's livin'.  Or does livin' mean steaks and glacier polish?  Damn, what a trip!

We woke, again with the sun, on the morning of day 3 high in the S. Bowl of North Pal.  We knew we had made better than excellent progress, and even had the hubris to propose making the trailhead a whole day early.  In the end we did exactly that, going from North Palisade over Polemonium to Sill and down and out.  This last day was long, but felt like the wind-down after the prior day's blitz.  All that, and we didn't short ourselves on anything:  We slept, ate, and drank what we needed.  We gathered a bazillion gigs of data via a total of five cameras.  We never walked or climbed by headlamp.  We did indeed work hard, but, as Sam Ewing said "Hard work spotlights the character of people:  some turn up their sleeves, some turn up their noses, and some don't turn up at all."  Jon turned up and turned it on.  He very well may cite various challenges faced up in those Palisades, but as an observer, I can vouch for smooth adaptation to considerable difficulty.  

Sun sets on a day past, looking to a day ahead.

Mt. Whintey Winter

There are a multitude of reasons for wanting to climb a mountain, particularly in winter, when the forecast is for high winds and brutal cold."Because it's there"might suffice as an answer if you were George Mallory and equipped with the nearly extinct elan that possessed his generation of climbers. Meeting the group that morning, appropriately if inauspiciously, at the Mt. Whitney cafe, I caught myself asking the same question. How do a group of nine people, whose backgrounds are as varied as a former British commando, a prison guard and a couple of special effects wizards, largely exclusive of each other come together and decide to climb a mountain? The answers, I was sure, would be as varied as the climbers themselves.
After checking our packs for the requisite items, and dividing group gear into the ever increasing piles of things that we were faced with carrying up a mountain we started in a convoy of three SUV's up the Whitney Portal road. The drive consisted of a sinuous stretch of steady climbing, skirting an enormous Road Closed sign, and working our way through the kind of rock fall one would expect from the shaky camera footage of an Afghan war zone. The parking lot by comparison was cool, and the trail itself bordered by massive Jeffrey pines that provided an immediate sense of remoteness and adventure. Thirty minutes of walking found us in a broad snow filled canyon, battling willows for supremacy over the trail and back in the warm winter sun. Arriving at the base of the ledges we ferried the groups packs over the narrow and grit covered scramble that lead off the canyon floor and up to the last section of trail before our first camp. The sun was threatening to dip behind the mountains and plunge us back into the chill of winter as we arrived at Boy Scout lake. We set up camp and shortly had water boiling to combat the encroaching cold with steaming cups of hot chocolate. After Bernd and Lyra demonstrated their exemplary backcountry cooking skills with dinner and boiled another pot of water for a second round of hot drinks before the group dispersed to their tents for the night.

The sun, which from our vantage rose virtually unimpeded in the east shone on us early and we begrudgingly made our way out into the cold and begun to deconstruct our tents and repack our bags. The conditions above boy Scout lake alternated between firm wind bored snow, perfect for crampons, and post holing through feet of sugar and willows that was so bad it inspired one of our team, a hardened veteran of an Everest expedition to write a limerick lamenting his trials.There was also the view. Tiers of brilliantly blue water ice beckoned, to those heedless of the their natural apprehensions, to be climbed. The sun glowed red on the rock, clouds whipped by high winds into strands wavered like banners across the sky, and the spire of Whitney rose before us. We camped that evening on the moraine below Iceberg lake, re-hydrating with mugfuls of hot Miso soup and eating heaping bowls of pasta before turning in.
The morning of the summit we woke at some excruciating hour that left you immediately convinced that you'd only been asleep for a few minutes. After oatmeal, and enough coffee induced clarity to realize that we weren't dreaming and that we were indeed going to climb a 14 thousand foot mountain in winter, we shouldered our light summit packs and move single file into the darkness. When the sun emerged it seemed to bring little warmth, our first break resembled a survival huddle and we were hard pressed to remove our down jackets for the next leg in spite of the level of exertion it promised. Now, the snow conditions could be described as something close to sublime, with each step cutting a perfect foothold in the snow. We climbed steeply up the Couloir, using a crossover step to switchback between the rock walls. Our next break saw us at the top of the Couloir with the rocky summit of Whitney ahead of us just beyond sight. The wind cut through layers of soft shell and insulation and brought with it a bone chilling cold as we removed our crampons and stowed our axes in preparation for the climb that stood between us and the summit. We stretched out our ropes, put gloved hands on the warmth leeching rock and began to climb. The team was fit, and moved with surprising grace and speed, sometimes on belay, sometimes completely relying on each others ability for that extra measure of safety. Soon we reached up and pulled over the last rock step and realized there was no more vertical terrain in front of us, that we were standing on top. The cold didn't curb our enthusiasm, but the photos at the top were taken quickly, and after a quick snack and some water we began our descent retreating from the wind.



The last day the group got up and broke down camp as if running through some lifelong routine. The wind had abated and before long we were stopping to shed layers in the sudden warmth. The team dispensed with the descent of the ledges efficiently and before long we were back in the cool of the pines that offered a surprisingly welcome shade. A few days of dis-habituating in the wilds of the Sierra and Lone Pine had the buzz and tempo of New York, but we still retained our fundamental survival instincts and quickly made our way to a local pizza joint to celebrate and say our goodbyes



So why did a bunch of people from all over and America and the world show up and decide to climb a mountain. Probably no far reaching or transcendent purpose, certainly for reasons beneath divine interest. Most likely because there are few things that serve to challenge us as physically, mentally, emotionally as climbing a big mountain. Few things as incredible or inspiring, as being there with friends, and others that seek their inspiration in the thin air and stark beauty of the mountains. Or maybe just because it was there.

-Thomas Greene

Mt. Gayley Winter Ascent

Andy and Tessa came back for more.  Last winter, as part of a shared California Alpine Guides/Sierra Mountain Guides winter mountaineering course, they got the basics down.  They then went out for a year and bagged peaks in the Sierra, the Cascades and Peru.  This February, taking advantage of uniquely non-wintry weather and conditions, they hoped to put it all together with a winter ascent of North Palisade.  North Palisade, from any angle at any time of year, is a proud ascent.  From the U-Notch, in February's short, cold days, it's world-class!  World class in strenuousness, aesthetics, and objective difficulty.  Andy and Tessa have above average fitness and skills.  Conditions and access and weather would be our biggest uncertainty.  As the dates approached, the weather forecast gelled into a somewhat typical windy pattern.   In an unfortunate twist of fate, the windiest time was forecast for the relatively narrow summit window we had built into our 3 day trip.  

We approached from the Glacier Lodge parking, walking initially in bare boots and eventually on snowshoes, to Sam Mack Meadow.  Clear skies, warm temperatures, firm snow underfoot, calm air:  We couldn't have asked for more that first day.  With the forecast wind kicking up that afternoon, we pitched our tents as well as we could and hunkered down.  We optimistically set the alarm for early on day 2, but screaming winds only increased through the night.  Before sleeping, we discussed options and criteria by which we would implement these various alternatives; better to discuss contingencies when  fed and warm and happy than to make rash decisions half-awake in the dark and cold of an early wake-up.  The consensus was that, if we woke to the forecast morning winds, we would forego the avalanche prone U-Notch route, sleep a little longer, and move camp higher for an attempt at another summit in the morning of the 3rd day.  

Knowing the beauty of a high and sunrise-lit campsite, we chose to move camp to Glacier Notch.  Now, camping at Glacier Notch is not part of your typical Palisades endeavor, but it should be!  What a spot:  One can look north into the entire Palisade Glacier cirque and southeast into Death Valley national park.  The sun rises over the glacier and hits tents square on with the most orange alpenglow you can imagine.  The East Face of Mount Sill looms to the west while the red ridge of Mt. Gayley waits just a few minutes north.  With the previous day's strong SW winds loading snow couloirs on all the 14ers, we chose Mt. Gayley's SW ridge as our 3rd day, early morning, "consolation" prize.  Andy and Tessa, like all good mountaineers, adapted readily to the change in plans.  The journey became our destination.  We scored a winter ascent of a large and remote peak, but the most memorable portion will probably be that campsite at Glacier Notch. 

Sierra Lemonade

Mt. Whitney in early January 2012.  photo: Alex Few

Well I always thought lemonade was a summer brew, but as it turns out California lemons tend to ripen in the late fall or early winter. I learned this thanks to a stubborn airmass called the Hudson Bay Low. This atmospheric feature decided to park itself for the long term this winter. This may have worked out well for Alaska skiers so far this season, but it has left us high and dry. 

One year after the raucous start to what became the biggest winter in Mammoth Mountain’s history last year, we now sit at less than 14% of normal snowpack. Indeed, a fine citrus harvest of one gigantic, ripe lemon of an early ski season. What I mean by that is: the Reno area had the driest December since 1883 and recorded a drought of 56 days without measurable precipitation until it got a dusting North of town, Tioga Pass stayed open until January 17^th- later into the winter than it has since the 1930’s, people have been hiking in shorts, road biking, and sunbathing shirtless in the darkest part of winter, and climbing 14’ers in Winter like it is July.

Ice climbing on Drug Dome, Tuolumne Meadows, Dec 2011

Depressing this may sound, call it “June-uary” or “November 78^th" if you will, but the truth is that it has been an early winter for the history books like nothing I have experienced in the Eastern Sierra, and we may never again. I say this in a most positively uplifting and gracious way. Nature reminds us from time to time that some things are unexpected and beyond our control. Those times actually present the greatest opportunities for us if we are open to seeing them. The critical ingredient – sugar – transforms a sour liquid into a sweet and delicious taste sensation.

Summit of Cathedral Peak, Winter Solstice 2011

I want to thank my local friends, clients, and adventurers in the greater online community who have embraced the Sierra drought in the last month. I have been inspired to enjoy steep, sunny sport climbing in the Owens River Gorge, boulder with my 15 month old son in the Druids, climb sunny alpine rock in Tuolumne in the sparking low light of solstice, learn to ice skate and experience the unforgettable ambience of backcountry alpine ice skating in the Palisades, climb legendary, ephemeral ice formations in Yosemite that are rarely in condition and normally take days to approach on skis, mountain bike after work with my family.  These are experiences that have created lasting memories I will always be grateful for. The 15 ski runs so far I have taken this season on Mammoth Mountain, not so much.

Ice skating with the family on Tenaya Lake. January 14, 2012

Am I ready for snow? Yes, I am. And it is coming very soon. I will no doubt savor the cool and refreshing lemonade we tasted through the early winter though, even as the cold February powder hits my face and my mind obsesses once again about ski lines and snowy adventures.  - Howie

Check out this trip report for the last ice climb we had in Yosemite, finishing just moments before the Tioga Pass Road finally closed for the season…

Mt. Whitney Winter

Indulge me a bit here, if you will.  Usually I try and post SMG trip reports here from the guests' perspective.  What made this trip special for him or her?  What did he or she bring to the trip that made it so enjoyable?  How did he or she rise to the challenges our beautiful Sierra offer? Believe me, Jason had an excellent time on Whitney, going above and beyond his own expectations.  An early January Whitney summit is a big deal for this fine-art carpenter from Brooklyn.

However, I can best describe the trip in my own terms.  Never before have I seen so few people on Whitney.  Never have I been so pleasantly surprised by travel conditions in the mountains.  Most importantly, I am utterly blown away by how this foray to the hills has cooled my wicked case of "snow fever."  Like virtually all US skiers right now, I am feeling in my very bones the lack of snow.  This snow sickness is a brutal beast.  It drives us crazy when the snow doesn't come, and leaves us distracted and overwhelmed with joy when it does.  However, tromping around in a clean and crisp and icy Whitney Zone has left me appreciative of all the options we have here and thankful for the flexible mountain athletes that come to SMG.  During those 3 magical days (and over a subsequent week of crampon-clad day-tripping) never did the insidious depression of a snow-deprived soul rear its head. Check out some pictures.