Sunday, September 25, 2011

Borah East Face Routes

Borah's East Ridge - East

Click on photos to enlarge

Here are some photos from two different trips to the East side of Mt. Borah. The well known Boise mountaineer Bob Boyles got me all fired up to get a look at the eastern cirque Of the mountain and what he described as; Idaho’s Eiger. On August 14th, Susan and I planned the trip as a leisurely backpack into Lake 10,204’ to “take in the views” but I tossed an axe and some light crampons in the truck just in case.

The 2.5 mile hike from the end of the road at West Fork starts in the brush and Mahoganys but isn’t anything close to a bushwhack. At times even, I thought we were following an old trail. After the climb out of the valley, the hiking leads through a long section of rolling country, meadows and a seasonal lake at 9,800’.


From the seasonal lake, the final shale obstacle rises 300’ to the lip of the cirque and from that angle the lip looks more like a ledge at the bottom of the face and not the opening to a good size cirque.

There are two lakes in the cirque, this photo looks back at the first one (more tarn than lake) Susan is just coming over the lip. The view out over the valley is impressive but the cirque its self is an alpine Shangri la that demands all the attention.





The East Ridge forms a seemingly impenetrable corral and to get to the North East Ridge one would have to climb part of the East Face or try their hand at the impossible looking super buttress.
I spent a lot of time looking at the face before I even thought about a spot for the tent. Stupidly, I’d left my axe and spikes in the truck but at this point I knew I was going to make a serious try for the summit. It didn’t take long to pick out a couple possibilities but the most probable would involve a long traverse across a talus-covered ledge on the lower face. I started thinking of the route as the “Dirty Traverse” before I even put my boots on it.


We found a spot out of the wind (that never did blow) on a narrow tract of limestone that separates the two lakes, happily, those before us left absolutely no trace of being there. I wasn’t surprised though, it’s the kind of place only an idiot would sully. This is actually a three shot nighttime panorama using a wide-angle-lens which gives the photo a stretched look. The weather was beautiful and it wasn’t easy to give up on the night when the view was constantly changing. I stayed out till about 11pm memorizing the place with my camera.


Morning was an easy laid back affair. We sipped coffee and we watched the sun line slowly make its way down the mountain. I had to wait till nearly 10:00 before the snow softened to the step kicking point. The lower snowfield directly above the lake was pretty firm but the second was much softer. For an axe I’d found a nice tooth shaped chunk of limestone that probably wouldn’t have done much more than keep my feet down hill if I took a fall. I was on my own but it was still embarrassing to have the damn thing in my hand and I had to keep fighting the urge to hide it in my pocket. At the top of the snow, the bergschrund was several meters deep and the first tentative moves on rock over the blackness below felt pretty exposed but the rock was surprising solid and clean.
The impenetrable East Ridge (left) and the thumb-like Super Buttress (right) over Lake 10,204'


The scramble to the traverse ledge was fairly sustained class 4 but the rock, although sharp as kittens teeth, was good enough to make me forget about the exposure and enjoy the ride. The traverse ledge however was quite tedious and I wasn’t sure it would go all the way to the Ridge until I got there. This photo shows both routes on the face. The Red line indicates the Dirty Traverse and the blue is the Direct.


Susan shot this from camp when I was about a 1/3 of the way across the dirty traverse.
Once on the ridge I made my way up an easy 70’ class 5 buttress but it could have been bypassed by scrambling around its west side. Most of the ridge above the traverse is class 3 or easier. The Ridge ends at a 600' headwall and I've always wondered if there was a way off of the ridge and back on to the East face. As I climbed higher my doubts grew until I reached a tiny col at the very top of the ridge that allowed a steep and very exposed climb to a wide ledge and eventually the summit.


Early light on the small lake at camp is just another reason to make the trip in to Borah's best kept secret.


Five weeks later Bob, me, and a rope-gun from Burley named Kevin Hansen returned to the area with the intention of putting up a direct line from the lake to the summit. The weather that weekend was perfect for a serious shot at the face but I had to bail out on plans to climb the standard Borah route with Terresa and Aaron. On the drive in Bob kept the monotony to a minimum with his tales of epic failed attempts on the face back in the late 1970’s, when giant rocks regularly rained down the face during the summer and frequent avalanches hissed down during the spring months. The face has mellowed a lot in the interim decades but those same stories have by and large kept climbers at bay allowing us the shot at a first ascent.

We didn’t make it to camp at the end of the road until nearly 8:30 pm. Bob and I stayed up till well after midnight swapping stories and swilling beverages. In the morning we sorted gear and then re-sorted as soon as we tried to stuff it all in our packs.


From the far side of the lake, we ascended the first snow patch and cliffs to the base of the second and much more steep-snow field. We laced on crampons and quickly made our way up to the bergschrund.
Nearing the top of the snowfield

It was a short hop to the base of the 2,000-foot wall. A jump from snow to rock in crampons is always a tricky affair but we both managed it without ending the trip at the bottom of the crevasse.


Kevin brought an 80-meter rope that was both a blessing and a burden. After climbing 80 meters the rope drag can add a lot of gravity. I led the first two pitches and much of the climbing was done with a running belay where both of us climbed at the same time, placing and removing gear as we went. By the time we reached the dirty traverse ledge I was happy to give up the sharp end for a bit. In this photo Kevin is topping out onto the pitch 2 belay ledge. The sun was pretty intense and he was regretting his last two weeks of sitting around in NYC at a low elevation.




Kevin started up a steep bolder section at the beginning of pitch 3 and managed to plug a number 4 Friend (the only big piece we had) into the back of a large detached flake. The rest of the gear was small wired nuts and very small cams. Although gear options were pretty plentiful we placed very few pieces on the entire face. The holds were more than adequate and for Borah, the rock quality was superb. When Kevin ran out of rope he set up a hanging belay as the sun was beginning to set behind the face. I looked at my watch and realized it was already 2:20pm. As Kevin was making ready to belay me up I heard a large (toaster sized) rock slam into the face about 500' above us. It bounced off the face and hit again about 100 feet lower and then started a long 400' spinning free fall. The dark sound of a falling missile is hard to describe but it reminded me of an old Road Runner cartoon. I tried like hell to get a fix on it but the sun was in the worst possible spot. In the last moment I attempted to shurg my shoulders up under my helmet and squeezed into the wall. I heard it hit the ledge 20 feet to my left and then watched it bounce off into space. Smaller pieces of shrapnel continued to rattle down behind it so I didn't get to see if it went all the way to the lake.
Following Pitch 3


On Pitch 4 I spotted a green backpack full of wet clothing wedged into a tight chimney left of our route. I set up a belay under a small roof and as Kevin followed he climbed over and retrieved it. He brought it up to the ledge and we used a wired nut to attach it to the face.
Kevin starts P5


Kevin looked at the beginning moves on pitch 5 and said, "This one is all mine" He'd been waiting for something to really challenge his rock skills and this section gave him what he came for. He quickly made his way up over the roof and onto a dirty ramp with nothing but friction holds. Several rocks spilled down in his wake and I was thankful to be under the roof. Near the top I heard him talking to himself and knew he was battling the fear of falling. In this photo I'm past the roof on easier ground with crux still above.
Following Pitch 5


This was easily the toughest pitch on the face and while following it I was greatful I hadn't been the one to lead it. Kevin was able to place two good pieces up to the half way point and another not so good piece below a crumbling 20 foot bulge near the top. A fall would have sent him on a 40' tumble and much further if his third piece would have pulled!
At the top of the bulge, the only good hold on the crux


At the Pitch 5 ledge we made a decision to save time by making an un-roped dash to the summit. We cruised up an easy class 5 ledge and then fought our way up deep, sliding scree to the top of the upper traverse ledge. From there a class 3 scramble put us directly on the summit.

Monday, April 25, 2011

Invisible Line

On Saturday I decided to run up Mahogany Gulch and take a look at a line I see every day on my way home to Moore. The Invisible Line runs from just below the summit of Invisible Mountain and angles slightly lookers left down the South face. (click to see route)

The snow in the canyon was set like concrete but as soon as I got to the sun covered face it turned pretty mushy and started sticking to my skins I applied a generous coat of Glop Stopper but you’d have thought I’d greased up with rubber cement, this product has been a lifesaver in the past but for some reason it only compounded the problem here.
I lashed my skis to my pack and started booting. The going was pretty un-fun , with a snowpack consisting of a layer of corn/mush over breakable crust, over about 10 inches of sugar. I lost a bucket of sweat on that face and was sorely tempted to traverse out to the ridge where I knew the snow would be set hard, I didn’t want any surprises when I dropped in to ski however and continued on. The LRR is Highly changeable, Eric and crew climbed the same aspect the day before, 10 miles as the crow flies up range and had pretty nice climbing/skiing.

Minimal bushwhacking and great rock formations make the hike from the gulch all the way to the top immensely interesting. This gate near the top of the line is just more of the same. The upper 200 yards of the line drop at a 40 degree angle and then ease up to about 30 till the apron where it turns to a very mellow 20.

I was tempted to stop short of the summit and just ski the line but it was only a hop away and easy skinning . Big mistake, I hit two base shredders just below the top that will devour a stick of P-tex like a truck driver mows thru a Slim-Jim.

From the summit looking up range, we’ll be skiing a long season!

Thursday, April 14, 2011

Flyboy montage

After a relatively calm winter last year, Flyboy saw a return to normal this season. High winds and a worrisome snowpack joined forces in a scheme to make us better skiers or maim us for trying.

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Limestone Landing on Flyboy. 4-4-11

Evidently some skill and know-how is needed for shooting video on the go, for starters; a wide-angle lens and a modicum of skiing ability will take one far beyond the illustration below.
For me, ski crashes usually have some degree of caveman-comedic value akin to fart jokes or campaign promises and this one made us laugh long and loud.




Apologies for the excessive beeping noise on the video but apparently I cuss a lot when I’m in pain. In fact, I edited out at least two minutes of caterwauling and Navy talk while I searched the brush for my #$*!^% camera.

Sunday, January 23, 2011

The turn around

On Saturday, Jeff and I made an attempt to climb Sacajawea peak, we knew the weather wasn’t going to be great but the day fit both our schedules. We split up the climbing gear on Friday night and got a 3am start the next morning. From the trailhead, we followed old snowshoe tracks on a more direct approach than the standard route all the way to about 9,500’ where we lost the trail in deep snow. It was impossible to tell if the snow-shoer’s made it to the ridge or summit.

The weather was mostly overcast with a little snow falling but there wasn’t even a whisper of wind. After losing the snowshoe track, we waded several hundred yards up low angled snowfields through thigh deep powder and the ridge came into view as it started getting light. When we left the trees behind the snow changed from bottomless powder to wind affected slabs with some mild trapdoor ugliness but we made better time in the less deep snowpack. From about 200 yards below the ridge I spotted a snow-dervish twisting in the wind and that was the first real indication we were going to get weather.

Still below the ridge we crossed a few sections of snow that settled loudly under us but suspected the stuff on the ridge would be packed solid, we were wrong. We made good time on the ridge and were still optimistic even though the wind and weather continued to get much worse. As we were crossing a large snowfield just below the ridgeline at point 10,632’ the entire patch collapsed under our weight and without saying a word, we both knew our summit attempt was over.

We decided to continue on and at least get a look at the class 4 sections between Chicken-out saddle and the summit but as the wind picked up the visibility crapped out completely. We turned around on Chicken-out ridge and headed down.

All in all, it was supremely fun to be on the mountain and although it’s tough to turn back on a peak neither of us felt cheated.

Jeff wading up the snow fields


Jeff on the ridge before the weather changed



I shot a short crummy video that panns from the ridge to Borah and back to Jeff as he descends toward the tree line through high winds and blowing snow.



Thursday, January 6, 2011

Another New Years post.

A small mob of us spent a few days 15 miles past the end of the road in the Lead Belt cabin plundering the pure and driven. Too much cheer made for a slow start on a new year but Bottle flu holds little sway on a powder day.