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.

Blue Diamond Ridge

Less than a week ago I got home from Red Rocks. I always make a trip there at this time of year for the Red Rock Rendezvous, and I try to incorporate some other guiding work and some personal climbing too.

This year Jess and I went down for a few days of climbing to kick off my trip. Amongst other routes, we climbed Burlesque in Icebox Canyon. I have rapped down this four pitch route on every time I've guided Frigid Air Buttress, as it's part of the standard descent. The massive flake on pitch three has been something I've wanted to climb ever since I first rapped past it.

It was a rather windy Saturday when we left the truck, but the winds abated as we got into the amphitheater below the route, and we didn't have to worry about the crowds on an old fashioned route known for it's wide climbing. The route itself was a fun adventure. Pitch two featured some fun crack climbing on great varnish, and the flake didn't disappoint. It starts as an offwidth and widens to a comfy squeeze chimney. The belay has great views down into the chimney. All in all a good route for any crack climbing aficionado or connoisseur of Red Rocks trad.

Then Jess took off and I had a fun week of guiding that included The Rendezvous. It was while driving to the event one morning a number of years ago that I first noticed the Blue Diamond Ridge. Morning light accentuates this line on Mount Wilson; as the sun makes its way across the sky it blends in with the Basin Wall behind. There's not a ton of beta out there on this route but everyone I spoke to talked about the Equalizer pitch, a notorious 5.9 lead where the only pro is two cams that are equalized part way up.

This event always brings a lot of my colleagues to the area, and every year that route comes up in conversation. It always goes something like, "Hey I'm looking for a partner for Blue Diamond Ridge...but you've got to lead the Equalizer pitch". I may have even been guilty of uttering those words myself. Over the years I've learned that some legendary pitches aren't all they're cracked up to be and I started wondering if the Equalizer was really that bad. This year I talked to my colleague Chad about the route and when I asked him if he was interested, I made sure to mention that I would be happy to lead the Equalizer. He was interested, and also was interested in leading the famous pitch. We decided that we would take the route as it came and whoever happened to be in front would take that lead.

Almost done with the approach.

A couple of days after the event we found ourselves walking away from my truck by headlamp. Pretty soon we were on an old dirt road that cuts across the desert directly toward the gully that leads to the base of the route. The dirt road peters out before it reaches Mount Wilson and after some cross country travel we picked up cairns that led us into the gully. Some fifth class climbing had us tightening our approach shoe laces and chalking up. The gully passes by a nice looking crag with varnished cracks that forms the proper toe of the ridge. This remote zone probably deserves a visit of it's own, if the climbing is half as good as it looks. After some ogling we followed the gully into the bowl between the ridge and The Basin Wall and then angled over onto the ridge where we took a long snack break at a big cairn.

I found some beta written by the first ascensionist at rockclimbing.com. He mentioned a "40' splitter crack" marking the start of the route. Above us was 4th and low 5th class climbing with no splitter in sight. We put on rock shoes and got out the rack, but left the rope coiled and resumed scrambling. We spent the next couple hundred feet climbing easy terrain on the left side of the ridge, but looking for straightforward spots that would put us back on the crest. Before long we found ourselves at the base of an excellent handcrack in a corner just left of the ridge crest. Whether on route or not, there was no way we weren't going to climb this thing! So we roped up and sent it.

Chad on a fun tight-hands crack part way up the ridge.

From here the route unfolded fairly smoothly. Some of it was easy ropeless scrambling. We did some simul-climbing. We made a number of shorter pitches with the follower wearing half the rope as tied-off coils. There were some terrain belays. We also made a handful of longer pitches with anchors and everything. Maybe halfway up passed through a cool tunnel to the left side of the ridge and got a good view of the upper part of the ridge. We saw something that looked like maybe it could be the mythical Equalizer. Chad led a short pitch of offwidth in good varnish to return us to the crest and then I took over. A few easy leads found us bypassing the only real tower on the route and then stowing the rope for some fun low 5th class climbing.

Getting fired up just before the tower.

Above this I found myself standing at the base of what we were pretty sure was the Equalizer pitch with the rack clipped to my harness. Chad put me on belay and I cast off. The reputation of this pitch was in my head at first, but after a few moves I just focused on the climbing....which was very good. It was frictiony face climbing on the best white rock I've ever climbed on in Red Rock. Aside from the two equalized #1 Camalots, I also placed a small C3 and a tricam. If we had carried more small C3's and small tricams I may have been able to get more gear. The movement was enjoyable and never desperate. Chad's offwidth felt a bit harder. Partway up Chad expressed some envy that I ended up with the pitch and I promised him that he could lead the money pitch(es) next time we climbed together.

Chad nearing the end of the Equalizer.

The Equalizer ends on a big flat step where we again coiled the rope for the last few hundred feet of scrambling. And then we were on top, putting the gear away, reapplying sunscreen, and happily changing out of our sweaty rock shoes. Good descent beta from rockclimbing.com had us back in First Creek Canyon faster than the standard walk back to the limestone, so we decided that a quick lap on Black Magic was in order on the way out.

Blue Diamond Ridge is a great route, but it's not typical Red Rocks fare. It feels a lot more like an alpine rock climb than say, Resolution Arete (also on Mount Wilson). The route felt fairly casual to Chad and I because we're both very comfortable climbing on 5.9 terrain and both have a lot of alpine climbing experience. We have a lot of experience routefinding on 3rd to low 5th class terrain and managing loose rock, which abounds on the route, particularly in the easier sections. Parties with appropriate skill and experience will find this is a really fun and rewarding route and shouldn't be intimidated by its reputation.

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.

Liberty Crack and Backbone Ridge

Here's one from the vault, about a couple of routes I climbed while living and working in the Cascades in the summer of 2008.


With my regular climbing partner back East for a family visit, I had to recruit another. A co-worker had some time off, so we made plans to tick two routes. We piled our gear into Mike’s car Friday evening and set off for Leavenworth. Our first objective: The Backbone Ridge (IV, 5.9) on Dragontail Peak. This rib of rock rises 2000 feet from just above Colchuck Lake to the summit. After a few hours of sleep in the parking lot we started hiking. A few more hours and we were taking off our headlamps at the lake and stashing snacks for the return hike.

Two hundred feet from the base of the route we encountered our first major obstacle, a really firm snow slope. Of course, we were in sneakers. We crossed using some chopped steps (we had one ice axe) and availing ourselves of the friction provided by debris on the snow’s surface. After the snow we kept our sneakers on and scrambled up to the base of the second pitch, which climbs a long offwidth.

Mike liking the offwidth. Note the sleeveless track jersey, his secret weapon for the wide stuff.

Most climbers do not relish offwidth cracks (cracks that are too wide for a fist, but too narrow to climb into). Climbers often abbreviate the term as “O.W.” One Joshua Tree guide claims this stands for “other way”, as in, go the other way. Because most find this crack size odious, they don’t often practice it. The upshot of this avoidance is that when mandatory offwidths are encountered climbers are unprepared and have a more difficult and unpleasant experience than they might otherwise, reinforcing their previous notions. It’s a vicious cycle. The other result of this distaste for offwidths is that they often get a harder rating than they should. A good example of this is Vertigo's “Half Moon” offwidth pitch (III 5.9, Cannon Cliff, New Hampshire). Some claim this to be the crux, but those with even a modicum of technique (and the sense to remove their pack) will find that it’s not so bad.

The offwidth on Backbone Ridge is fun. It’s in a right facing corner, which allows for stemming and hip scumming. The lower half is easily protected with mid-sized pieces and slung chockstones. After this, I pushed a big cam ahead of me for 30 feet until I could leave the offwidth for a comfy belay ledge. Easier terrain along the ridge crest and to it’s left followed. Soon we were simulclimbing up a ledge system on the Fin, a huge clean face that forms the upper part of the route. Part of the way up, Mike picked a nice looking finger crack (the actual crux of the route we took) and led us to the narrow upper edge of the Fin. From here, more simulclimbing took us to the top.

Leading on the Fin.

We lounged on the summit for an hour and a half; eating, taking pictures, goofing around, eating some more, and putting the climbing gear away. Hiking and glissading brought us to the top of Asgaard Pass, where we picked up the trail and made the 6-mile hike back to the car. Thirteen miles of hiking and 2000 feet of climbing had earned us some pizza, so we headed into Leavenworth for an overpriced pie.

Sunday morning we slept in and went for a swim. That afternoon we packed up and drove north to Washington Pass. Our objective was Liberty Crack (IV 5.10 C1), a 1200-foot aid and free route on the east face of Liberty Bell. We knew the route was going to take us a long time. Monday morning found us on our second predawn start.


We left the car at the small pond just east of the pass and followed faint climbers’ trails uphill through the woods. Horizontal bands of lighter rock partway up the face made the route easy to find. Unfortunately, another firm snow slope lay ahead. This time Mike took the lead, chopping steps with a rock until we were able to chimney down into the moat between snow and rock, with a hand and foot on each, and traverse over to the start.


We divided the route in half. The first block was mine and started with three pitches of aid climbing. I find approach shoes the best thing to wear for aid, but I wore my climbing shoes instead. Wearing them made me more inclined to get out of my aiders to make the occasional free move. Climbing shoes are also pretty uncomfortable in aiders, so there was extra motivation to get to the anchors.

The moment I started up the first pitch the mosquitoes were swarming. As I knew I would be warming up on lead, my windbreaker was off and I was just in a short-sleeved shirt. I remember none of the first pitch, just fending off the mosquitoes. As Mike jugged up to the belay I tried to think of excuses to quit. When he got there he had a positive attitude and didn’t really complain about the bugs. This gave me enough of a mental boost to keep going and the higher we got off the ground the less of an issue they became. The aid pitches were straightforward. The only marginal placements were a few fixed copperheads with frayed wires on the third pitch. The third pitch also featured the most bomber hook placement I have ever seen. I’ve read it could be bypassed with cams or nuts but why bother when a hook is easy to place and clean? One short lead of 5.10 and one long lead of 5.8 and my block ended on a ledge.

Looking down from just above “The Lithuanian Lip”, a prominent roof on pitch 2.

Mike linked two short pitches to “The Rotten Block”, a belay where it was easier to sit than stand. Next was a really long lead that started off with a little aid (Mike was glad to have an aider here) and stretched out to about halfway through what most guidebooks call pitch 9. A pitch of low fifth class chimneys followed and then Mike led what we both agreed was the best pitch of the route. It was a long left facing corner with good rock and fun, sustained climbing. Another 150 feet of low fifth class climbing and we unroped to scramble up the top of the Beckey route. On the summit we met a pair of climbers who agreed to join forces and turn two rappels into one with both of our ropes. Before long we were at the car, changing into flip-flops and strategizing how to stay awake for the long drive home.

Summit shot atop Liberty Bell.

Our rack for The Backbone:

• 1 set of nuts
• 1 ea. green – red Alien
• 1 ea. #.75 – #3, #6 BD C4

Our rack for Liberty Crack:

• 1 set of nuts
• 1 set of HB offsets
• #.5, #1, #1.5 Tricam
• 1 ea. 0 TCU
• 2 ea. #.4 - #2 BD C4 (or similar) including 2/3 and 3/4 Metolius Offset TCUs
• 1 ea. #3, #4 BD C4
• 1 ea. BD Grappling Hook

The offset gear was really useful (especially the nuts) but not indispensable. A second set of regular nuts would suffice.

The Liberty Bell Group. South Early Winter Spire, North Early Winter Spire, Lexington Tower, Concord Tower (not visible), and Liberty Bell (l to r). Liberty Bell's east face is in the shade.

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.