McClellen's ButteI nearly perfect trip in February 1998(?) up the prominent north gully of McClellen's Butte. This can only be successfully climbed when conditions are just right due to high avalanche danger. As it turns out, we picked the right time for this great A cold and crisp morning greeted us as we met at Mark's house at 6 AM. As the six of us gathered our gear together, and talked about the weather and conditions, we slowly decided what each of will bring: 2 ropes (one for each team of three), slings, pickets and rock pro, in addition to the normal personal gear. The route to the summit that we have chosen is a route only accessible in the winter, when the conditions are right. The snow pack must be firm, the temperature cold (below freezing ) and avalanche danger low. The North Basin on McClellan's Butte is a narrow corridor of snow descending from the summit block (which looks very much like the Matterhorn!), to the bas of the mountain, some 3500 feet below. We arrive at the trailhead, just before the sunrise. By the time we see the sun peeking over the adjacent mountains, to illuminate the cloudless sky, we have hiked one hour along the path. Looking at a clearing, this is where we venture off the trial and begin the slow ascent toward the snow gully. The snow is relatively firm, but as the leader progresses forward, he sinks to almost kneed depth. The remainder of the group follows behind, in the same footprints. As Jay gets tired of 'breaking trail', the next climber takes over. Soon each of us has taken a turn at the lead by the time we reach the gully. Looking at the snow here, we see that it's covered by a light one inch dusting of snow over a hard crust - perfect conditions! Here we stop and put our crampons on our boots, take out the ice axes and begin the trip up the narrow gully. Progress is much better that expected, as the harness of the snow allow the crampons to bite solidly into the snow. Being at the north side of the mountain, the gully is free from the sun and heat of the day, keeping the snow firm. The gully (or coulouir) is only 20 feet or so across, so we climb directly, and straight up the chute. At one point, approximately, one third of the way, we encounter an large break in the snow, where a waterfall flows. Here, since the group was beginning to separate, Barry, Jay and Danimal elect to continue around then up the chute. Mark, his son Dan, and I turn left and ascend and even steeper slope, to bypass the opening. We quickly gain elevation, and follow a ridgeline that traces the left edge of the chute, climbing around trees and rocks. As we continue, the snow is becoming harder as we gain more elevation, and we reach another secondary avalanche chute. This, too, is steep, but we elect to keep moving and not use the rope that I'm carrying yet. I take the lead here and kick steps in the hard snow, making little 'steps' for the next climbers that follow. This is hard work, and by the time I ascend the 75 feet to another ridgeline, my legs are cramping a bit. Mark takes over and we traverse a bit to the right and meet with yet another snow chute. Hearing voices, we notice that the other three climbers are climbing this chute and we all reach a large, open, slope at the same time. Here we need to make a decision, because the summit is 300 feet directly above us. Either climb the mixed rock and ice to what may be the summit, or traverse to the right some more, along a 60 to 65 degree slope, some 2 rope lengths (300 feet total), to what may be the correct route. We decide to take the traverse. Since my group is already roped, we go first, and I get to lead. I borrow Mark's second ice tool, look down the hill at the 'run-out' - some 750 feet down - and take a deep breath. I swing my right hand and sink the ice ax firmly into the snow as I step out onto the smooth, shiny mixture of snow and ice. Following a routine of: swing right hand, sink ax, swing left hand, sink other ax, kick right foot (to sink front points of crampons in the hard snow), kick left foot. I move slowly across the slope. The first few moves are solid and the axes plunge firmly into the hard snow. As I side step to the right, across the steep face, my concentration is intense at making each move count. Danimal, who carefully plays out the rope, so as not to pull me backward belays me, but enough to catch me incase of a slip or fall. About 20 feet out, the texture of the snow becomes hard ice and my right foot slips as I attempt to kick it. My leg falls away when the foot glances off. Fortunately, the axes are held firm and I quickly regain my composure and continue. In another 5 feet, I figure I have enough 'runout' (distance to the next anchored spot, indicating the distance of a fall) so I lock my feet into the snow, plant one ax, and lock myself to it and place a picket into the snow. To this I attach a sling, then a carabiner, then reach and clip the rope into the carabiner. I am now effectively anchored to the picket as well as the belayer. In this same fashion, I move across this snow face, placing three more anchors. The next anchor I place by threading a sling through a hole in an ice block (like threading a needle), then I find a rock horn (a projection of rock, solid) to drape another sling (and connect carabiner and clip rope to it). All the climbers will use these anchors as points of contact to the mountain in case of a slip. If the anchor holds, then climber will be safe. When I travel half the distance of the rope, the next climber, Dan, follows along, moving as I do. We attempt to synchronize our pace. As he approaches the first anchor, he must move the rope, which is sliding through the carabiner, from in front of him to the trailing portion of the rope, behind him. By the time he reaches the third anchor, I place one more anchor around a solid tree limb and change my direction to straight up for the next 30 feet. When I reach a level platform, I'll build another anchor using a tree, anchor my self to it (thus removing from anchor system I set up). Then I connect the rope to my harness through my belay device and belay Dan up to me (this means that now, if he falls, I have control of the rope and I can keep it tight, sort of like 'pulling' him up to me.) |
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