The Kaweah Traverse

Recently Kevin Burkhart and I climbed the Kaweah Traverse in Sequoia National Park. Ours was the third or maybe fourth ascent of the traverse and the first time (that I know of) that it's been guided. 

Yours truly on the approach with most of the traverse in the background. Photo by Kevin Burkhart.

In a big mountain range full of fantastic alpine ridges, the Kaweahs are a bit of an anomaly. This group of 13,000 foot peaks are not, for the most part, made up of the granite for which the range is famous. Instead they are of a rock that is significantly lower in quality. The original Kaweah Traverse was accomplished by Andy Selters, Claude Fiddler, and Danny Whitmore in July of 1997. This trio traversed about two miles of ridge line, from Black Kaweah to Second Kaweah, taking on 6 other named 13'ers and a bunch of unnamed bumps and towers in between. Climbing California's High Sierra rates the traverse IV 5.9. There is minimal information available about the route. 

I think Kevin first mentioned the Kaweahs to me when he, his wife Heather, and I did the Palisade Traverse (Thunderbolt to Sill) several years ago. As someone who is fond of Sierra ridges it was on my radar, and the fact that he brought it up piqued my interest. Here was somebody as interested in this obscure route as I was!

A year passed and Kevin returned to the Eastern Sierra last summer to climb the Sun Ribbon Arete on Temple Crag. Again the Kaweahs were spoken of. Then we had one of snowiest winters ever. I knew that we would need to bivy on the ridge to succeed, and that meant we would need snow to melt for water. As soon as it became clear to me that there would be no lack of snow, I reached out to Kevin and the planning began. 

Kevin somewhere on the East Ridge of Black Kaweah.

I was up front with Kevin right from the start that not only had I not done the traverse, I had never even been in that part of the range before. Some climbers want their guide to be intimately familiar with the route and peak(s), but Kevin was fine with the fact that it would be an onsight for me. On a route of this nature that could mean backtracking or doing more or harder climbing. We had, I think, built some trust on our previous two trips, and I think he was looking forward to something with a few more unknowns than usual. Without the unknown, after all, there is no adventure. 

A climb of this nature also required that I put some serious trust in Kevin. Though I brought guide skills, climbing experience (and alpine ridge experience in particular) to the table, this climb would need to be a real partnership to manage the risks posed by loose rock and unknown terrain.  Kevin is an experienced trad climber, and has done a ton of 4th and low-5th class around the country. This somewhat rare pairing of skills was combined with some serious interest in this route. Kevin's research meant that not only did he get local beta for an approach that cut our hiking distance almost in half, but he also went in with eyes wide open about the loose rock, something that I think is necessary for success on the Kaweah Traverse. Though there were a number of surprises along the way, low quality rock was never one of them. 

Looking north from Red Kaweah with Black Kaweah, Pyramidal Pinnacle, and Koontz Pinnacle in view.

There is minimal information available about the route. In the interest of adding to that I include slightly more beta than I might normally, but please understand that in endeavors like this a sense of urgency is necessary and quality note taking often fell by the wayside.

We left Mineral King a little after 9am. Kevin's route to the Big Arroyo, our basecamp, wound over Glacier and Hands and Knees Passes and through the Little Five Lakes Basin following trails, abandoned trails, and our noses. Towards the end of the day we shed our shoes for several creek crossings, some of them more than knee deep, fast, and cold. Near the old Big Arroyo ranger cabin we ran into a backcountry ranger who warned us that the Kaweahs had a lot of loose rock and that it could be snowy up there. We spent the night comfortably under my tarp.

The next morning there was no alarm. I thought we'd be working hard each day on the route and wanted to leave our basecamp well rested from the hike in. After a leisurely breakfast we started hiking northeast uphill through open woods and granite slabs. eventually we reached the treeline. That ranger was right, there was a lot of snow, and we were happy for it. The last mile or so of our approach to Black Kaweah would have been endless talus was it not covered in supportive snow. 

We took the Southwest Face route to the summit. It was fairly straightforward and soon we were on top snacking and snapping photos of the peaks laid out ahead of us. From the summit we descended directly east on technical terrain and got onto the east ridge via a convenient ledge. Looking back later that day, we saw that we could have accessed that ledge much more easily by backtracking a bit. The east ridge was exposed, loose, 4th to low 5th class...and surprisingly fun. Our only snafu came on the one rappel we made but that was quickly fixed and soon we were hiking up the northwest slopes of Pyramidal Pinnacle looking for a place to spend the night. There were a number of snow patches and many semi-flat sites, but for some reason I wanted to keep hiking. Before too long I saw it, a cave! With a shout I ran over to it, expecting the floor to be filled with sharp rocks or guano or both. Instead it was almost-completely-level sand and small gravel, a comfortable size for two grown men. A few moments of work from Kevin, the high-end custom carpenter, and it was perfect. Just a few steps away was a snowfield melting into liquid in the late afternoon sun. Excellent views back up the east ridge of Black Kaweah were the icing on the cake that is my new favorite bivy spot.

Soaking up the view from my new favorite bivy spot.

The following day we left the magnificent cave a little after 7am. We scrambled up to the summit of Pyramidal Pinnacle with ease, and soon found ourselves downclimbing exposed 4th and low 5th class. We could have gone back down the way we came and wrapped around to the other side of the Pinnacle on easier terrain, but we wanted to keep our traverse as true as we could, riding the skyline. A short rappel completed our descent to the notch with Koontz Pinnacle.

Some unnecessary but fun 5th class climbing brought us to the top of Koontz Pinnacle, which has a classic Sierra summit block. In his guidebook Peaks, Passes, and Trails RJ Secor mentions that Koontz Pinnacle is not shown on the USGS Triple Divide Peak 7.5 minute map. It seemed to us, after sitting up there with the gps on my phone, that in fact its Pyramidal Pinnacle that's not shown on the quad. 

Me on top of Koontz Pinnacle. Photo by Kevin Burkhart.

Traveling along the ridge from Koontz was fun but became involved, eventually necessitating a 40m rappel. This was followed by a hike up Red Kaweah, one of the easier peaks on the traverse. There was some kind of butterfly migration happening and hundreds of orange and black butterflies led us along the ridge and up to the summit. Getting off the other side was more complicated, we made one rappel that I can recall.

Climbing up the north side of Michael's Pinnacle was forgettable, but the summit register was not. Placed by Jim Koontz himself in 1953, it had a transcription from Charles Michael's original register and had been signed by a who's who of Kaweah climbers, including the only other parties we knew of who did the traverse. It's a piece of Sierra history. I'm not normally particularly excited to sign summit registers, but I was honored to sign this one. That is, until we discovered the pen didn't work. Kicking ourselves for not bringing a pen, we continued south in the dwindling daylight, eventually dropping off the crest a bit to a bivy overlooking Kaweah Basin. 

The Michael's Pinnacle summit register. It could use a new pen and container.

Looking east towards Williamson and Whitney from our second bivy. Photo by Kevin Burkhart.

In the morning the towers seemed to go on and on and included two 20m rappels, but eventually we found ourselves in front of Squaretop. We traversed onto the west side over at least one rib to get to the Northwest Face route which brought us quickly to the summit. 

A time consuming gully took us down to the col before Bilko Pinnacle. Here fun 4th class on a rib over to the west side of the col brought us to the summit and our first good views of Grey (aka Second, aka False) Kaweah. 

Kevin sailing the seas of choss somewhere on the ridge.

Tales of a spat between the first ascensionists and 5.9 climbing had us wondering if one of the towers before us would contain the crux. Instead we found (on I believe the second tower) enjoyable 5.7 climbing on some of the best rock on the ridge. Before long we were fist bumping on top. I know I felt like we were getting away with something. 

We still had a lot of daylight left, and both of us felt like it would make a lot of sense to include Mount Kaweah, the tallest of the Kaweah peaks. It was only a matter of some class 2 hiking, so we signed that summit register too. Our big winter had left snow still parked on the west face of the peak, and a 1500 foot standing glissade sped our descent and put smiles on our faces.

While Kevin and I both enjoyed this traverse neither of us feel a need to do it again. Climbers who are dying to send this one would be well-advised to do some of the other big (and higher quality) traverses first. Though this one isn't as long as the full Palisade or Evolution Traverses, the decision making and risk management is probably harder. Couple this with the low level but continuous loose rock and the Kaweah Traverse is likely as difficult as those longer ones. As Kevin put it, “this one is for the Sierra ridge 'choss-isseur'”.

Somewhere in the Kaweahs. Photo by Kevin Burkhart.

Lone Pine Peak - Winter Chimney

In early March my colleague Andy Stephen and I climbed the Winter Chimney on Lone Pine Peak. This route has been on my radar ever since reading this trip report. This fun route is worth doing for anybody who is interested in alpine climbing and the Sierra Nevada. All of the photos below are Andy's, as I lost my phone that morning (more on that below).

Andy and I were guiding a trip up the Mountaineers Route on Mount Whitney in early March, so it made sense to stick around Lone Pine and tick this route. After celebrating a successful Whitney summit with burgers and shakes at The Mount Whitney Restaurant I ran a few errands in town and we drove up the Tuttle Creek Road as far as Andy could rally his minivan (a lot farther than I expected).

Though it seemed like we made a plan about what time to wake up in the morning I definitely misunderstood as it was Andy's voice, not the notes of "Illuminate" (my alpine start ringtone) that woke me up the next morning. Andy was a gentleman about it, and several cups of coffee and some unnecessary vehicle shenanigans later we started huffing up the road to the Stonehouse.

Neither of us had ever been there, so we spent a few minutes exploring the place. About 25 minutes later, after we had left the Stonehouse, crossed Tuttle Creek, and were stopping to put away headlamps and put on sunscreen I noticed my phone was missing. Andy was gracious and patient throughout the agitated searching and backtracking that ensued. I felt like an idiot, but after 1.5 hours of frantic looking I also felt like I wasn't going to find it. It being a clear day the temperatures were rising, and we were concerned that it might be too warm on the route after all the time we just burned. We decided to continue up the approach anyway. After all we were there, and at least we could get the approach figured out for a subsequent trip.

The slope of big boulders that precedes the gullies didn't seem too bad, probably because much of it was covered in supportive snow. All the snow meant that we engaged in only minimal scrambling to get up the first and second gullies (about 2000 feet of elevation gain) to the Winter Chimney drainage. We definitely felt the time wasted in the phone search here, the gullies were fully in the sun, the snow wasn't super firm, and it was hot. A bit more hiking (probably to about 10,200ft) and we could see the Winter Chimney route and there was definitely ice!

In the bottom of the Winter Chimney drainage. Andy Stephen photo.

Kicking out a stance at the base of our first pitch. Andy Stephen photo.

A few more minutes of slogging and Andy and I were kicking out a platform at the base of the first pitch. From here on up it got progressively cooler, and I began to regret peeling off my long underwear at a break at the bottom of the first gully.

The first pitch was about 30m of nice WI2. Andy quickly got the rope up there and brought me into a cave at the base of a bombay chimney. One wall of the chimney was covered with thin but well bonded (and clear!) ice. A few body-lengths into this lead and I couldn't wind up to swing my ice tools anymore, it was too narrow. At this point I started chimneying in earnest and headed directly out, slinging a seemingly bomber chockstone along the way. Once out of the slot I continued up some ice, then snow, and brought Andy up.

In the first chimney. Andy Stephen photo.

A long pitch of mellow snow above the first chimney. Andy Stephen photo.

From this point we could see the whole upper part of the route. We hiked up maybe 60m of snow and I augered in as Andy took the next lead. It was one of the classiest pitches on the route: a bit of thin ice to some drytooling around a big chockstone with ice pouring over the top, then more moderate ice to another belay in a cave below another chimney, this one topped by a roof.

Once again it was my lead and once again I found myself using a stimulating combination of ice climbing technique and chimney technique. Before long I arrived at the roof. It was kinda long and all dry rock. I wasn't particularly high on trying to pull it with boots and crampons on, so I cast about for an escape. I found a tight tunnel-through behind the roof. Tools went first, then me in just the right orientation, and last my pack dangling from my harness. I belayed in a jumble of boulders just above.

Looking down the first part of one of the better pitches on the route. Andy Stephen photo.

Andy took the next pitch and again it was a great lead, starting with some run-out dry tooling on positive edges as the chimney shrunk down to a corner and finishing with better protected mixed climbing in that corner. This pitch took us to the top, where the wind was ripping. With little more than a fist bump between us we coiled the rope and started hustling across the summit plateau to the start of the descent.



I think this route deserves more action, so below are a few thoughts future climbers of this route might find useful.

I think the ice on this route is formed from snow melting on the summit plateau above. A healthy winter snowpack with some period of melt-freeze action prior to the climb probably provides ideal conditions. Mid to late winter is probably best. That will also give the approach the most time to fill in with possibly helpful snow. The chimney where the route proper exists receives little direct sunlight in the winter (it was cold in there) so refreezing is probably a given too.

We clearly encountered a lot more snow and ice on the route than the 2007 team did. I believe the first three pitches of the Winter Chimney proper that they climbed were covered by snow on the day Andy and I were there. The first pitch we roped up for was the one they described as, "a beautiful 100 foot pitch of baby blue water ice".

We brought one pair of rock shoes for an emergency and they stayed in the bottom of Andy's pack. The only spot where they could have been useful is maybe pulling the roof that I tunneled around. I often find that bringing multiple types of footwear (on any type of climb) ultimately slows things down. Deciding if and when to switch and then doing so often seems to take a lot longer than just making do with what you're wearing. Anyway, it was cold enough that day that putting on rock shoes would definitely have meant risking a cold injury.

After reading some horror stories about the descent I spent some time at home sussing it out on Google Earth.

In summary:

2200 - 2400 feet of easy snow climbing, interspersed with occasional bits of 4th class scrambling led through the first and second gullies. Then we pitched out as follows:

1: 30m WI2
2: 30m Icy chimney
60m snow walk
3: 30m WI 3 M3
4: 28m Icy cave tunnel-through
5: 35m WI3 M3 glory pitch

We brought a couple of ice screws, stoppers, and cams to a #3. The smaller cams (.2 - .75) seemed to get more use. We brought a couple of knifeblades but didn't use them.

Ice Climbing and Experience

Ice climbing is one of my favorite types of climbing to guide. This winter I was lucky to facilitate movement on frozen water for a number of my regular clients (or "repeat offenders" as I sometimes refer to them). Two of them that I climbed with almost back - to - back are in very different places in their ice climbing careers. These two climbers have vastly different levels of experience, but each seems to (knowingly or not) take maximum advantage of that experience.

Kevin is in the second ice climbing phase of his life. The first ended before I ever picked up an ice tool. Kevin and I had spent a bunch of days rock climbing and a few mellow days on the ice when he got in touch about an ice climbing road trip. With a little effort plans came together and mid-February found us in Hyalite Canyon, just outside of Bozeman, MT. Though Kevin might still be getting the feel for all of the new gear, especially the boots, his ice climbing technique, stamina, and stoke haven't gotten rusty at all and he seemed to draw on a deep well of experience to climb hard four days in a row. He was up as early as me every day, and every bit as excited during the drive to the trailhead.

Kevin points back up at The Matrix (WI4- M4-5) after climbing it in what we thought were fairly fat conditions.

Though the trip was a success by many metrics, the high point for me came on the second pitch of a three pitch route called Cleopatra's Needle, when the rope running from my belay device down to Kevin stopped moving. We had been climbing increasingly difficult ice every day and Kevin followed each pitch perfunctorily, always pulling the final bulge smoothly and with a smile. As a guide I try to bring clients to a place (mentally or physically or both) where they are challenged. This is where the most learning and growth happens, and where the most fun is had. I was a little concerned that though we were ratcheting up the difficulty Kevin wasn't being challenged enough. Now he was at the bottom of the sustained pillar that defines the route, and the rope stopped moving for an entire half a minute. Finally, something made this steep ice climbing machine stop and think!  After that brief pause he started up again, and before too long he came into view with his usual grin, psyched on the pitch he just sent.


Jesse had climbed ice two days in his life, one at the Roadside Ice in June Lake and one with me on North Peak, when we met in Lee Vining a few days after the Hyalite trip. Though he doesn't have Kevin's depth of experience in the frozen vertical, he can match him in enthusiasm, and I think his "beginner's mind" can be an asset. Jesse and I were originally scheduled for a Monday and Tuesday, but severe weather forced us back a few days to a Friday and Saturday. I encourage clients to book ice climbing days mid-week as much as possible. Despite the fact that this can be difficult for climbers with 9-5 jobs and families, they often get much more out of their climbing days than when we go to Lee Vining Canyon on a weekend, because of the crowds.

Jesse and I got an early start on Friday, and managed to get in a bunch of laps on the left side of Chouinard Falls before things got a little too busy there. Recognizing that Spiral Staircase over on The Main Wall was in, and is somewhat rare, it seemed like a great way to finish off our first day and to show Jesse his first multi-pitch water ice route. He did well, hooking through the finish to the first pitch on what was probably the most sustained steep ice he had climbed to that point.

Jesse traversing over to the anchor on the classic finish to the first pitch of Spiral Staircase (WI4-).

Our second day started with a quick lap up what was left of C3PO in the Narrows before walking up-canyon and finding that both The Chimney Route/Photoshop and The Fischer King both had parties on them. Heel-Toe, however, looked formed up and nobody was on it. It even looked like the left finish was covered in ice! The first pitch can be thought-provoking for the leader, but is no more than interesting for the follower, and I was confident that we could bail from anywhere on the route if we needed to, so up we went. Jesse cruised the first pitch and we broke the second pitch into two, stopping at the ledge where the two finishes bifurcate. Looking ahead from here I now saw that the ice covering the left finish from below was several inches thick but detached from the cliff behind by about an inch. Oh well. A little dry tooling number got us past this and up to the top. Though this was certainly a step up for Jesse, he shined. I think this is due, in part, to his "beginner's mind".

As climbers we often assume that having more experience always trumps having less. Climbing with these two guys in quick succession was a great lesson in the fact that there are advantages to being at either end of the experience spectrum.

A Memorable Season of Lee Vining Ice Climbing

We are in the middle of what is probably the best season of Lee Vining Ice in recent memory.  There's been a flurry of new and potentially new route activity. I've only been swinging tools in this great little venue since 2009, and there are local folks who've been climbing ice here much, much longer than that, but everyone seems to agree that we are having a great winter for water ice.

For me it started with a trip into the canyon with Alyssa Krag-Arnold at the end of November. Some years this is just a scouting mission, but Chouinard Falls was in coming in really well for so early in the season. At that time of year some discretion and restraint is required on the part of climbers to not slow the development of the ice, but we had a good time nonetheless.

Alyssa catching an early season lap on the Tree Route.

On our way out Alyssa indulged me with a belay up the right side of a short pillar in the Narrows I had been looking at. The left side of this pillar is the first part of a two pitch route established by SP Parker and Urmas Franosch. The right side was definitely unclimbed, as I trundled a few choice pieces that day (and a few more on a subsequent ascent). The route starts with some fun edges and hooking, and finishes with a bit of chimneying. Alyssa was patient as I cleaned off snow that had blown into the corner in a few places. At the top, it was a luxury to clip the anchor SP and Urmas had left and lower off. In the spirit of the other Star Wars - themed routes in the area I christened it TK421. Since it goes at about M3 and protects well from good stances it makes a good warm up for the area and for trad protected mixed climbing in general.

I had another good day in the canyon ten days later with Kevin Normoyle, and then hiked in with local legend Doug Nidever. We had heard that Spiral Staircase was in. This is probably the easiest route on the Main Wall and hasn't formed in 5 or 6 years. The route used to have a bolted anchor part way up, but a few years ago Christy McIntire posted a photo on Facebook of those anchors (and a big piece of granite they were still in) on the talus below the cliff. Despite a light drizzle Doug and I were excited to see what the route was like now. The pillar that had been the centerpiece of the route was forming as a thin curtain, which Doug cruised. Above where the old anchors used to be a fat column was forming, but it was way too wet for enjoyable climbing that day.

Yours truly about to traverse over to the thin curtain. It's a rare day when I climb in my Gore-Tex! Photo by Doug Nidever.

A week later I was guiding a winter ascent of Mount Whitney when I received an email from Luke Lydiard. It was a forwarded conversation with visiting climber Chris Wright about an ice route he had climbed on the left side of The Narrows. At first I assumed he was referring to Zippo's Frozen Booger, the only pure ice route I knew of there. Upon looking at the attached photo I was shocked. There was Zippo's on the left side of the photo, but in the center was a formation I had never seen before. I'm not proud to say that I immediately felt some FOMO. I wasn't jealous of a visiting climber scooping a probable first ascent (in fact, I was psyched that our little playground was getting some attention) but I wanted to climb that thing, and it looked so ephemeral that I doubted it would still exist when work and life gave me a chance to get in there.

A FOMO inducing photo, Womp Rat in the center. Taken on December 19 by Chris Wright.

A little over a week later my wife and I hiked in hoping that the route in question, which Chris dubbed Womp Rat. As a photo on Mountain Project shows, it wasn't particularly fat when Chris climbed it, and by this time it had sublimated sufficiently that I didn't think there was enough ice for me to climb. With a sigh, we hiked up to Spiral Staircase for a look at the new column. It had turned into a steep curtain, and it was dry, and there was a sweet belay cave behind it! The cave was big enough for at least 3 folks to hang out comfortably, and exiting it onto the curtain reminded me of Louise Falls in the Canadian Rockies.

On the last day of 2016 Luke and I hiked into the canyon for some mixed climbing. Our warm up was 30 Seconds Of Remorse, a route I hadn't been on since it was put up. This time around the first 30 feet was legit ice climbing, and I didn't remember much of anything about the cool crack that makes up the meat of the route. I'm claiming an Alzheimer's-point. The tat Jed, Thomas and I left on the juniper at the top had been chewed on by some animal, so there's some new cord now.

Before moving up-canyon we stopped for a couple of cool little daggers up and left. The left side of the Narrows is bounded by a small gully feature. This had a little pour-over at the top that was sporting a pair of offset icicles. The route opens with a bit of mellow ice, and then Luke pulled out of a cool rock cave onto the first dagger, and made a delicate transfer onto the second. This little pitch is pretty fun and fairly unique to the area. Before the solstice there's probably not enough moisture for it to form and come mid to late season the whole gully fills in with snow. Like it's namesake, Jawa is a curious and unpredictable little creature, best to hop on if it's in.

Luke about to transfer to the second pillar. As I write this, pretty much everything from the level of his helmet on down is covered in snow.

More guiding and a heck of a lot of snow kept me away from Lee Vining for a few more weeks. When I returned I found myself bulldozing a trail up to Chouinard Falls for two father and son pairs. It's always fun to observe family groups in action (particularly when it's not your own) and watching these two generations encourage and teach each other was pretty cool. As we hiked through the Narrows I was thrilled to see that the left side was thick with ice, even more than it had been a few weeks before! The whole drive home I schemed about who I could drag out there with me.

The Narrows left side about 3 weeks after the possible first ascent of Womp Rat, and after the first round of our January snowpocalypse.

Jess warming up on a very Scottish TK421. You can see where I tunneled through the snow at the top.

Once again my wonderful wife obliged. After a very snowy warm up we crossed over to the left side of the Narrows. A trio of older gentlemen was running laps on a fat looking Zippo's Frozen Booger, So we proceeded up Womp Rat, which was fatter than on the first ascent. Then we climbed a slightly easier yellow and gold colored icicle just to the right. I haven't found any record of this one, and it seems even more rare than Womp Rat, which I thought of as a rare route. We named it C3PO for it's color. At some point in late December Viren Perumal climbed the thicker, bluer flow to the right. It starts in a right facing corner and can be seen forming in Chris' photo above. Since it's right next to 3PO and it's blue he's calling it R2D2.

A week or two ago I saw a photo of a climber in the Narrows on Instagram. He mentioned R2D2 in the caption, so I guess the word is getting out!

It's a small community of serious ice and mixed climbers here in the Eastern Sierra, and when all this stuff was starting to come in I was communicating with Chris about whether his rig was in fact a first ascent or not. I think the truth is, who knows. Many climbers more talented than I have visited Lee Vining Canyon over the years. Many of the canyon's early first ascensionists didn't even see fit to name their routes and most only acquired names to distinguish them in conversation. That being said, I've seen Zippo's form a few times but didn't even know that ice ever came down where these new routes are, never mind enough to climb. This makes me suspect that they are way more rare. I think posting routes like this on Mountain Project and claiming the first ascent is okay, as long as we're open to the possibility that our ascent isn't the first. If some other climber came first, putting the route information out there in public might even give us chance to get that story and find out a bit more about the history of this cool arena. If you know anything about early ice and mixed ascents in Lee Vining Canyon please contact me.

Third Pillar Of Dana - Leave No Trace on the approach

The Third Pillar of Dana has one of the better approaches in the Sierra. It's easy to follow, fairly direct, and really pretty. 

This climbers path travels around Tioga Lake and winds through the woods before following a creek up into Glacier Canyon. Eventually it wanders through a lovely alpine meadow dotted with granite boulders and disappears a few minutes before climbers reach the top of the route. In the summer wildflowers add all sorts of color to the whole thing. 

In many places this path is an aesthetically pleasing single track. However, around 10,500 feet (I'm guessing at this altitude from memory and the map, not a gps waypoint), the path passes through several marshy areas and in a few places is starting to become wide and messy.

"Travel and camp on durable surfaces" is a basic Leave No Trace principle. In the case of the Third Pillar approach this should be fairly easy; just walk right in the middle of the path. The human impact is already there, and this durable surface (bare ground) can take the abuse. 

What's going wrong in this area around 10,500 feet is that us climbers are not walking in the middle of the trail. When we get to these marshy sections we skirt around the edges, killing the plants there and slowly widening the way. Why are we doing this? It's wet and muddy there. 

What should be a narrow path....

That's right, I'm calling out my fellow climbers for being afraid to get their shoes a little wet or muddy. It seems odd that a group of humans that will live in their cars for months on end, forgo showers, and purposely put themselves in physically and mentally challenging situations are unwilling to get their approach shoes dirty, but that's the explanation for the unnecessary impact. We might feel badass when we're romping up the last pitch of The Third Pillar, but we can't manage to do the right thing when faced with a few feet of muddy trail. Not so tough after all. 

If a call out won't work, how about the reality of the situation? I've been lucky enough to climb The Third Pillar of Dana twice so far this summer, once while guiding and once with my wife. I wore a different pair approach shoes each time and each time I tried walking directly through the muddy sections of the path. I took the photos below just after. Not so bad, right? The mud barely made it past the rands. 

"But what if my approach shoes have mesh on them and some of that muddy water makes its way in" you ask. This is a mountain range known for its fair weather. If you walk right through the mud and your feet get a little wet and dirty, fear not gentle reader, they'll dry out in the warm California sunshine and light winds that you'll get over the rest of your day of climbing. 

Tom Harrison Maps in The Atlantic

Almost every backcountry trip I've ever been on started with a map. When I was first figuring out how to travel in the backcountry in New Hampshire's White Mountains, those maps came from the Appalachian Mountain Club. These days if I'm looking at a map there's a 50% chance it's on a screen: Hillmap or Google Maps on my laptop, or a GPS app displaying a USGS quadrangle on my phone.

If I'm looking at a paper map of the Sierra it's pretty much guaranteed to be a Tom Harrison map. I think the first map of his I used was for Joshua Tree National Park. They're available everywhere in the Eastern Sierra (including some gas stations) and they're much more usable than USGS quads or National Geographic maps. The Atlantic has a short interview with him on their website right now.

Lee Vining Ice Climbing Route Resource

Everybody knows that Lee Vining Canyon is the number one spot in the state of California for ice climbing. It's also a growing center for mixed cragging. Over the past few years more drytooling routes, from low angled scrappy alpine simulators to steep magazine-cover-style climbing have been established in The Narrows area on the way to the ice. Two more have already gone up this season, with bolted anchors and high quality rock.

While Mountain Project is the most up-to-date resource for the mixed climbing in Lee Vining, online route beta for the ice is more limited. I (and others) have been slowly improving the Lee Vining ice information on Mountain Project, by submitting routes and areas that are as useful as I can make them, and also by using the "Improve This Page" feature. As far as what routes are where, and how hard a given line is, the best resource might be this old page. Click on the wall you're interested in and scroll over the route names to see the line overlay on the photo. Pretty cool!

If I could figure out some way to stick that in this post I would, but it's more than just a jpeg, so it's not in my skill set right now.

The Minaret Traverse

Scott Sinner and I did The Minaret Traverse a couple of weeks ago. We climbed all of the named Minarets in a day, which added up to 20 peaks. I don't think anyone had done exactly this before and though it's a rather arbitrary guideline, all of the rules in climbing are arbitrary. Why climb the Dawn Wall when you can walk up the back side of El Capitan on a trail? It was really fun, particularly the northern half. The rock quality was good when it needed to be and occasionally great.

Scott somewhere in The Minarets.

I'm not 100% sure why I like this kind of thing, but I know that I really really like it. When I started climbing I remember stumbling across an article by Matt Samet in Climbing Magazine about alpine traverses. In the article he climbs The Cirque Traverse (in The Wind River Range), The Grand Traverse (in the Tetons), and The Evolution Traverse (for what might have been it's first onsight) in a long road trip. He may have done another, I can't remember and lost the magazine a long time ago. 

Something in that article was the spark, though it was a while before I had the chops to really turn it into a fire. Obvious natural lines have always drawn my interest (Indian Creek is one of my favorite crags) and I like alpine climbing. Long ridges are the most obvious and aesthetic lines in the mountains and if that ridge takes me across multiple peaks, so much the better. As Josh Wharton said, "What could be better than climbing? More climbing."

After climbing all over the country I was drawn to The Sierra in no small part because of it's ridges. I believe it was Viren Perumal who suggested using Peter Croft's The Good, The Great, And The Awesome as a tick list. What do you know, there are a lot if ridge climbs in there, including four big traverses. One of them draws the eye insatiably every time I'm driving home on the 395. I usually find myself going well under the speed limit on the straightaway past the Mammoth Airport. 

For these reasons and more a few Sundays ago I woke up at three in the morning at a small bivy just east of The Gap, a pass just before the northernmost Minaret. It had been smoky lately (from The Rough Fire) and there was a slight chance of thunderstorms in the forecast. I popped in one earbud from my iPod, so I could get psyched but still converse with Scott, and fired up the stove. I was feeling some nervous anticipation. I wasn't scared about the climbing, but I was excited to finally get my hands on this ridge and I really wanted to send. We got our gear sorted out, Scott turned on his wicked bright alpine-start-routefinding headlamp (essentially the sun in a bottle strapped to his head), and off we went. 

There's not a lot of beta about this traverse. The guidebook write ups vary from inspiring to cryptic but none are particularly useful. I found trip reports online (here, here, here, and here) (oh yeah, and here) but none of those climbers did what I wanted to do: climb all of the peaks named "Minaret" in a day. Somewhere on the third page of search results I came across a Supertopo forum post from a few years ago. Scott Sinner was looking for a partner for this traverse. Most of the folks posting to the thread did not want to climb with Scott and seemed only interested in nay-saying. I barely knew Scott, but he was the only other person I had met who had expressed any interest. I sent him a message to find out if he still was and he replied quickly and in the affirmative. 

We met for beers to talk strategy and logistics. I wanted to get the earliest start we could without compromising a good night's sleep. My frequent partner Aaron Richards pointed out that if you're going to climb in the dark no matter what you might as well do it first, when you're fresh. Scott had the brilliant idea of going north to south, so as to front-load the more technical climbing. I had learned from experience that it's best to, whenever possible, shift walking to the end of the day. So we camped at The Gap and started real early.

In the interest of encouraging more people to climb this thing I included more notes about our particular route than I usually do. Please understand that in endeavors like this a sense of urgency is necessary and quality note taking often fell by the wayside. For clarity I capitalize an aspect (Southeast for example) when it's in the official name of an established route that I'm sure we climbed. This happened rarely. 

From The Gap we slogged uphill and north over talus and scree on the west side of Waller Minaret until we could turn east and scramble up 4th class to the summit. We retraced our steps to The Gap and then headed up the West Ridge of Leonard, a fun 4th and low 5th class scramble on mostly good rock. Folks call this the West Ridge, but since it comes directly from The Gap "Northwest Ridge" might be more accurate. Climbing down to the notch between Leonard and Turner Minarets was not memorable, but the excellent 5.7 climbing out of that notch was. We went slightly downhill to the west and then followed a crack system on good rock for a while passing an old piton in the process. 

A cool polished ramp on the west side of Turner (or was it Jensen?) Minaret.

Somewhere above this we walked up a cool polished ramp on the east side of the peak then climbed a really fun low 5th class corner with a finger and hand crack in the back. However, one or both of these climbing items could have come on the way up Jensen Minaret, as I can't particularly recall how we got to it's summit from Turner Minaret. I definitely recall how we got off of Jensen though. This was the first time we got out the rope. We probably could have down-climbed all of this terrain, but I think rapping was ultimately faster. We made one rappel from near the summit to a ledgy area. From here we climbed down and skier's left, on unlikely looking terrain, closer to the ridge crest. Then we made two more rappels, interspersed with some scrambling. The last rap put us in the chute on the west side of North Notch. Scrambling up North Notch Minaret was fairly easy, but I think we might have rapped off the top because there was a really good station already there.

A fun corner of Jensen (or was it Turner?) Minaret.

Next came Dyer Minaret, which Scott and I both thought was some of the best climbing on the whole thing. From Highway 395 near the Mammoth Airport you can pick out the little finger of Dyer sitting above North Notch. The northwest ridge is steep and exposed 5.6 - 7 on really good rock. The small summit of Dyer featured a rap station with a fixed pin and stopper equalized with a horn. One 30m rappel (watch the ends of your rope!) down the northeast face got us down to easier terrain. There's a good bivy for two on this side of the peak, from above it looked like a little nest jutting out into space. We climbed over the west shoulder of Dyer and down to the notch between it and Dawson Minaret.

Scott on Dawson Minaret. Jensen Minaret looms behind.

On Dawson we followed low 5th class ramps up and around the west side of the peak to the notch between it and Bedayan Minaret. Then we turned north and climbed up making moves up to about 5.7. Once again we were happy to take advantage of a not-bad in situ rap station. We climbed Bedayan by it's northeast face, which was mostly 4th class. This was notable because it was the only time we climbed a peak in the northern half of the traverse on it's east (our left) side.

I don't remember much about how we got up Rice Minaret, but my notes say "west-northwest ridge". I do remember making a shortish rap from a bomber natural feature down a cool looking tight corner/chimney. Getting onto the summit ridge of Eichhorn Minaret was walking. It was literally class 2/3. At one point I wished aloud for trekking poles.

Scott pulling onto Eichorn's summit ridge. Clyde Minaret is on the right.

There are several big towers between Eichorn and Michael Minarets. We traveled around these towers on the west, passing the big plaque memorializing Pete Starr, and dropping into and then climbing out of the tight gullies that separate them to reach the Portal. We passed through the Portal and climbed the face above and left of it. The rock was impeccable and the climbing was never harder than 5.6, which was good because the face was quite steep. I don't think we took the path of least resistance but it was fun. As we topped out it started to drizzle briefly. Three rappels got us down.

Crossing back over Eichorn we dipped into a bowl on the southwest side of the summit ridge to avoid it's sharpest parts. A little bit of exposed 5th class downclimbing got us onto the northwest ridge of Clyde Minaret and from there to it's summit. From here we followed Croft's path in reverse. Down to Amphitheater Lake for a welcome drink of water, up to Amphitheater Col and over the first bump of Adams Minaret to it's true summit, which involved some 4th class scrambling. Somewhere in there we waited 30 minutes for a thunderstorm we couldn't see (because of the smoke) but that sounded really quite loud and close.

We found this cool little piece of obsidian on our way up to Amphitheater Col. It looked like some kind of arrowhead or man-made tool to us. Anybody out there have any ideas/expertise in this sort of stuff?

Back down to the lake and up the Southwest Face of Ken Minaret to it's summit, where we made a few 5th class moves near the top. We retraced our steps back down and hopped talus over to South Notch Minaret. This little tower had what might have been the hardest climbing of the whole route, we weren't surprised everyone skips it.  We climbed it by the northwest face, which had consistent class 5 climbing on good rock up to maybe 5.8 or so, and descended with two short raps.

Now a bunch of talus walking led to Starr Minaret. We cached the climbing gear somewhere on the way and climbed Starr as the light faded. Our route to the summit was not the easiest way up and the descent even less so, but eventually we found our way back to the gear and hiked up Kehrlein Minaret. I had been on Kehrlein before, on a previous attempt traveling the other direction with my friend Dale Apgar. It's east ridge is the most complicated terrain feature connecting two minarets that we would travel on. I felt confident that we wouldn't get lost and would take a generally efficient route. Little did I know that our time getting from Kehrlein to Pridham Minaret would be well over 4 times the average time it took us to get between all the other summits. Though morale was still high and we were both still functioning well mentally the 17 summits before this one were making themselves felt. We moved more slowly in the dark, and made five rappels as we ground our way east. I don't know if I speak for Scott on this but I hope to never climb Kehrlein Minaret again. 

From the top of Pridham we could see Reigelhuth looming in the dark when we turned our headlamps off. Robotically we hiked over to it and climbed steep low 5th class terrain on the south side of it's west end. We stumbled, down-climbed, and butt slid down some loose gully and picked up a path that took us to the trail by the outlet of Minaret Lake. 

Success! As is common for me on these things, I was just glad to be done and figured I'd probably feel good about it later. I was more excited about the supplies we had cached by the outlet on our way in. We snacked (Fritos!), changed headlamp batteries, and psyched ourselves up for the death march back to The Gap.

This area is worthy of more climber traffic. The northern Minarets in particular (from The Gap to Clyde Minaret) were fun and engaging and certainly not the nightmare of loose rock and routefinding that they're often made out to be. Most of the skepticism I've heard about the Minarets has been from folks who have done minimal actual climbing there. If The North Ridge Of Conness or The Incredible Hulk is your standard for alpine rock quality, be prepared to be disappointed in The Minarets and in every other mountain range in the lower 48. Come to the Minarets understanding that these are mountains and that mountains (especially those that aren't overrun by other climbers) often contain some loose rock and I think you'll be pleasantly surprised by the climbing. If you are interested in this traverse (or part of it) and want more beta feel free to get in touch.

Parker Canyon Ice Climbing

I got a text from Ryan the other day. He had heard that the Parker Canyon Ice was in and wanted to know if I was interested. I definitely was. If you look carefully, you can see the ice in Parker Canyon from 395 between June Lake and Lee Vining. I find myself on that stretch of highway frequently in the winter and have often looked and wondered. It was time to go find out.

Ryan leads the warm up.

Like the ice in Lundy Canyon, Parker is best climbed early in the season, when it's been cold but there's been no snow. The roads that lead to the trailheads for both these areas are gated and not plowed in the winter. Usually mid-January would be too late, but we were hoping the dry winter we've been having thus far would make a visit possible. SP Parker's Eastern Sierra Ice lists two routes to the trailhead, one for 2wd vehicles and one for 4wd. The 4wd approach saves 1.7 miles of hiking and 550 feet of elevation in each direction. We hopped in Ryan's truck and took the 4wd approach.

Persistent snow ended our drive about a mile and 500 feet of vertical short of the end of the 4wd approach. So right away we were only saving 0.7 miles of hiking and pretty much no elevation. While the extra hiking wasn't that big of a deal, the persistent snow was. Parker Canyon runs southwest to northeast and it's floor and southern walls don't see much sun. Those aspects, where most of our approach lay, was mostly snow-covered. The snow was unconsolidated and a few inches to just over a knee deep in places. A little post-holing isn't really that much to complain about, but it in this case it was coupled with bushwhacking through alders and willows. In all we post-holed and bushwhacked for about 3.5 miles and up about 2100 feet to get to the ice.

Parker Canyon ice looking nice and fat.

While the approach might be the toughest of any of the winter ice climbing area in The Eastern Sierra, the ice is pretty fantastic. There are two main flows on the left (north facing) side of the cirque at the head of the canyon. We climbed both and they were nice and fat. The left one was over 30 meters high and offered a few different lines. The right flow was a bit taller and wider. All the lines we took checked in at about WI 3+. It looks like it's possible to walk off from these climbs (and SP's guidebook confirms that) but we brought 60 meter twin ropes so rapping off of V-threads was pretty expeditious. There are several other flows to the climber's right on a more southerly aspect that we didn't climb, including a line called "The Cleft".

The head of Parker Canyon with two main flows over on the left, "The Cleft" stands out on the right.

The ice was really good, but the access was a bit of a pain. If I was going back I would plan to go when there was less snow, probably earlier in the season. Though this wouldn't improve the bushwhacking, it would eliminate the post-holing and enable us to drive to the end of the 4wd approach road. These improvements would take a lot of the sting out of the approach. With less snow, I would make sure I had either a 70 meter single rope or two ropes. If you're looking to save weight on the approach by bringing less rope (say a single 60 meter) I would plan on figuring out the walk offs.

After prepping the site, Ryan onsights another V-thread.

Peak 12,563

We've had an interesting summer of weather in the Sierra. Long periods with thunderstorms both in the forecast and in reality, coupled with smoky air from wildfires in the western part of the range has made prolonged trips in the mountains less than desirable. 

Classic thunderhead approaching Cecile Lake.

A little bit of luck and itinerary adjustment has allowed me to still help climbers accomplish their goals on guided trips. Glen and I climbed the Southeast Face of Clyde Minaret and The Palisade Traverse during periods of unsettled weather. However, I've put off some of my big personal objectives in the mountains in favor of shorter trips. A half day's scramble up Cloudripper and some cragging have been excellent consolation prizes. Early in August I had a free day with a 30% chance of thunderstorms, but still wanted to get into the mountains. So it seemed like a good time to tick some shorter alpine climbs.

Getting ready to leave the North Palisade bivy on a clear but windy and cold morning.

Peak 12,563 and it's Northeast Ridge (5.6) came to my attention in a Mountain Project thread from several years ago about less traveled, easier Sierra alpine rock climbs. Some of the routes sounded cool, so I added them to the never-shrinking to do list for this range. Last September Jess and I got out and climbed The Diamond on Two Eagle Peak (12,966), a route from that Mountain Project thread. The route had all the hallmarks of any off-the-beaten path alpine climb: a little loose rock rock, some lichen, and some interesting route-finding. It was a really fun day of climbing, with nobody else in sight and great views of the Palisades.

A little research in RJ Secor's Peaks, Passes, and Trails told me that Peak 12,563 is sometimes called "Bear Claw Spire", that it had a spectacular summit block, and that the route was first climbed by Galen Rowell. These facts on top of the fun we had on Two Eagle were enough to pique my interest.

I got a far from alpine start at 9am from the Pine Creek trailhead. Hiking up that trail is usually a hot dusty affair, and this time was no different. By the time I got to Upper Pine Lake the altitude and building clouds made the temperatures much more pleasant for hiking. From Honeymoon Lake to Golden Lake was fairly easy cross-country travel and soon I was getting a good look at the ridge. I have few photos from the day as the forecast and building clouds had me feeling some time pressure.

The bottom of the ridge features some fairly steep cliffs. These looked a little harder than 5.6 and certainly harder than I wanted to climb solo and in approach shoes, so I started left of the toe of the ridge at an area with several inviting cracks. Fun 5th class climbing up to about 5.6 led to the ridge top after a while. From here I crossed over to the right side and followed some 3/4th class ledge systems to get back on the ridge top. Staying generally on top of the ridge with the occasional 5th class section led up to the summit block. This was spectacular, as promised, and required a few 5.6 or so moves on very high quality granite.

The summit featured great views back into Pine Creek Canyon and down to the Owens Valley, south toward Four Gables, and a front row seat on Feather, Royce, an Merriam Peaks. Walking off down the west side of the peak was pretty casual. Though the rock had some of the potato-chip flakiness of rarely traveled alpine granite, the underlying rock quality was really good. If you're comfortable at the grade and have some alpine rock experience, this route could be a great adventure.

If you go the summit register could use a new container, notebook, and pencil.

The 4x4 or The Big Four In Four Days

I am tired. I don't know if I've ever been tired like this before. I've been sleepier, I once fell asleep while belaying on El Cap. I've been more physically tired, I remember hiking out to the car over Lamarck Col and barely being able to put one foot in front of the other. This seems different. There are little muscles in my legs and feet that I didn't know existed before. Most telling, even more than being stoked about what Aaron and I did, I'm just glad we're done.

The "Big Four" are four classic rock climbs in The High Sierra. I first saw the grouping and Big Four name in Peter Croft's 2002 classic guidebook "The Good, The Great, And The Awesome". Every other mention of The Big Four I can find references Croft, so the concept might be his (though it turns out there are a lot of other "big fours" out there). And what a concept! Four long 5.10's on beautiful peaks spread along the length of the range. All were first climbed by Sierra heavy hitters. The first ascenionist list includes names like Warren Harding, Doug Robinson, Don Jensen, and Dale Bard. The routes are The Harding Route on Keeler Needle, Dark Star on Temple Crag, The Southwest Face (Harding Route) on Mount Conness, and The Red Dihedral on The Incredible Hulk.

Whorl Mountain

Luke and McKenzie practice roped skiing for future bigger endeavors while Aaron breaks trail in the distance. Horse Creek Peak looks great in the background.

I sent a bunch of local friends the following Facebook message last Monday:

Hey Gang, Aaron and I are climbing Whorl Mountain or Excelsior Mountain on Wednesday. We're not sure which one yet. There will surely be skiing, scrambling, hiking, postholing, stupidity and awesome shit. Everyone's invited, and tell anybody we forgot. Let us know in the next 20 hours if you're interested.

Aaron and I were going for a full (but not enormous) day in the mountains that might involve standing on top of a mountain and thought it might be fun if some friends joined us. Honestly, I wasn't expecting many replies. I knew some of those folks already had to work, neither Whorl or Excelsior are very well known peaks, and it was fairly last minute. So I was pleasantly surprised when Luke and McKenzie let me know they were in. They were planning to use it as an opportunity to test gear and practice techniques for future trips.

We left Mammoth in the dark and started skinning just a few minutes from the car, an unusual thing in this warm dry winter. As we got higher in the Horse Creek drainage we saw more and more great looking terrain for winter adventures, particularly on Twin Peaks and Horse Creek Peak. Topping out on Horse Creek Pass revealed some neat views down into Tuolumne Meadows. 

From the Pass we glided down to and along a prominent bench to access the southeast face of the peak. Here we left our skis and transitioned to scrambling. Aaron carried his ski gear up, intending to ski a line off the south ridge of the peak. After a fun mix of 3rd to 5th class scrambling and steep snow we hit the ridge. There were excellent views to be found here, including up the remaining few hundred feet of vertical. It looked technical, and exposed, and partially snow covered. As it wasn't getting any earlier, we decided to cut our losses there and descend.

Luke and McKenzie on the way up.

 We downclimbed and moved over to the line Aaron wanted to ski. After he descended out of sight, the rest of us sat down for some great glissading. We regrouped at our skis. Aaron talked me into skiing down to Spiller Creek and then skinning back to the pass. As McKenzie and Luke were traveling on light skis with climbing boots, they opted to reverse our route to the pass. The 2200 vertical feet down to the creek was on warm, sloppy snow but made for fun skiing nonetheless. 

Descending Whorl Peak. Photo by Aaron Richards.

We regrouped again at the pass and began our descent in earnest. Right away it became obvious to me that skiing down anything steeper than 18 degrees in mountaineering boots and lightweight skis is not fun. While Aaron and I enjoyed the skiing at first, Luke and McKenzie worked hard for every foot of elevation lost. Below 9000 feet the snow was downright sloppy and everybody put their heads down. The last 700 feet down to the truck had done some melting during the day and featured slushy snow, hidden rocks, and bushes to trip us up. Few words were exchanged.

What were we doing out there? We skied over 10 miles, and climbed nothing. The skiing, while occasionally good, was generally mediocre and sometimes challenging. It wasn't a successful day by strict climbing and/or skiing standards. But we saw some cool terrain that was new to all of us, had great weather, and got a bunch of exercise (or training). It was really all that I promised in the invitation.

Aaron (the speck in the center) shredding on the way back to the car. This was probably the best skiing of the day.