The Wind, The Snow, The Amy Couloir

A small window was appearing in the forecast for Christmas Eve.  It was the only break in the weather for the foreseeable future, so we decided we should do something with it.

We hiked in the previous afternoon up to Piedras Negras and collected the ropes that we cached last time.  Last time we socialized in the sun, but this time we set up the tent and dove in to get out of the cold wind and blowing snow.

Camp at Piedras Negras, looking at the leaning summit of Guillamet.

Neale laments the wind and blowing snow.

 In the morning (1am) we continued to push back our start time as the weather continued to be unpleasant. When we finally decided at about 3am to at least fail standing up instead of fail from within our sleeping bags, Colin Haley and Joel Kauffman walked through camp.  We followed Colin and Joel up through shitty blowing snow to Paso Guillamet where we put on crampons.  Colin and Joel have climbed a lot in Patagonia, so we were essentially looking to them for an assessment of whether or not this was climbing weather. Colin and Joel seemed to be going for it, and so we did, too.

Colin crampons up just below Paso Guillamet in the blowing snow. 

The sun rises and the snow blows at looking east (ish) fom Paso Guillamet.

Lago Viedmar and the rising sun as seen from Paso Guillamet.

The Amy Couloir is an easy and short couloir (gully) rising from near the Paso to the Comsaña Ridge on Guillamet.  I led the snowy couloir in one pitch.

Looking down the couloir from the belay at the top.  Neale was being closely followed by an Italian guided team. The couloir itself was mostly sheltered from the howling wind.

Neale just finishes the fun crux, a move pulling over a short steep and rocky step into the snow.

 Neale reported that the Italians were planning (perhaps saying they were hellbent would be more accurate) on going to the summit. It was super windy at the ridge, but the belay was reasonably sheltered, so we decided to let them pass and then see what they did.
The guide screamed "to the summit!! We all go to the summit!!" as he simul-climbed past. His enthusiasm was indeed infectious, and we decided to take a crack at it.  I led the short, steep rock step in my crampons a few minutes behind their second, and got on top of the rock step to find that the guide had set his belay in the full blast of the wind. He was again leading, slowly scratching his way up 5.9 rock climbing in full ice gear. His client was standing in the wind, belaying and shivering. I immediately down climbed and Neale and I began the rappels. The Italians retreated not too long later.

Back at camp - the sky was clear, but it was still quite windy. We were hit by some gusts of wind at the base of the couloir that nearly took us off of our feet.

Fauna.

Neale walks out.  It was still very windy.

Flora in the Rio Electrico valley. 

We were able to hitchhike back to Chaltén by mid-afternoon. I actually hadn't realized that it was in fact Christmas Eve, thinking that it was the 23rd, and most stores were closed and it was tough to find food. 

For those that want to know how the high-end alpine team of Colin and Joel fared, they made it a couple of pitches up their goal, an ice chimney on Val Bois, a peak a couple peaks further along the ridge line.  They bailed due to the wind and the hot sun melting their route. They instead climbed Cerro Madsen, a small peak above Lago de los Tres. Colin said it was the windiest summit he'd ever been on and they had to hold themselves down to avoid being blown off the mountain.

The Whillans Ramp - Cerro Poincenot

After just a few days in El Chaltén, our first weather window appeared in the forecast.  It was the first window in a while, and the hordes of climbers in town started to buzz, mostly with pretty ambitious plans for what appeared to be a pretty decent window.
Neale and I discussed trying something small, but after consulting those more knowledgeable about Patagonia than we are, it was decided to take advantage of what appeared to be a multi-day window.  We prepared to attempt a route that was a fairly high priority for me on this visit, the Whillans Ramp on Cerro Poincenot.  As we packed up and discussed our ambitions, we were interrupted by the sound of sobbing.

From the bus ride into Chaltén. The biggest peak, just right of center, is the mighty Fitzroy. The peak just left of it is Poincenot.

We investigated to find a young man in the corner of the dorm room in our hostel, bawling his eyes out.  We asked him what was going on, and he revealed that he didn't have anyone to climb with for the coming window.
After a short discussion and an assessment of his skills, we determined that he was a better climber than either of us and that he could join us for the Whillans.  Drew immediately ceased his sobbing and began to stuff a backpack full of cams, crampons, and pride.  And with that, our intrepid duo became three.

(the world of climbing being a small place, after a few days of "I know I've met you before" we finally determined that Drew had come to a barbeque at my house in Squamish a few years back.)

We hiked in and setup camp at Piedras Negras, a bivy site that many other parties were using as well.  We socialized before we slept.

This is an actual photo I took during the hike in, but my camera has a cool mode where it re-renders the photo as a painting.  The image here was an actual output of my camera.  I think it's pretty fun (the original photo was nothing special).

This photo was taken in another special camera mode, HDR, where it takes three photos (at different exposures) and re-renders selecting the brightest colors (it also makes it look a little like a painting, but that isn't as obvious in this photo).

Janet, Drew and Sarah were colorful in camp.  Neale was standing there too, but I told him and his black jacket to "get the fuck out of my photo."

Not bad weather.

SarBear (one of my very good friends from when I lived in Squamish who is spending the season in Patagonia) and I posed for a photo in her partner Dorte's sunglasses.  Dorte is a Patagonian legend and a co-author of the guidebook to Patagonia climbing.

In the morning, about 2am, we launched.

Drew at Paso Guillamet

The Piedras Blancas Glacier.

Drew starts up the ramp part of the Whillans Route.  Below us is an enormous big wall, which would make a fall from this snow traverse a serious mistake.

Drew led the entire snow ramp in one pitch, while Neale and I simul-followed.

At the top of the ramp. This is not really a very great picture, but it's of me, so on the blog it goes.  Photo by Drew Thayer.

This was the crux pitch, which Drew led in fine style.  The climbing was absolutely excellent.

Continuing up the rock.

This next photo is where things began to wrong. We had route-finding decisions to make: left or right.  We also didn't know which bump was the summit. But straight ahead was this crack, which looked about 5.9 (but was probably low 5.10).  So we went up the middle, between the peaks, confident that due to the low angle of the slope, it would be a "slam dunk" to the summit.  So we harnessed Neale up, and sent him on his way....

And it was a dead-end.  Blank in both directions.  The summit was only a couple of hundred vertical feet above, but the wind was howling on the ridge, it was 5 o'clock, and it was clear that we were not going to go down and then back up.  We were done.

At our high point. This is our non-triumphant non-summit photo. Photo by Drew.

Rappelling. Photo by Drew.

Aguja De La S in the back and St. Exupery in the front.

When we wrapped back around to the south side we were treated to a Spectre of the Brocken - our shadows cast into a concentric rainbow formed by the sun shining into the swirling clouds below.

And if we looked in the opposite direction? The baddest mountains in the world.

Me in the middle, shooting the photo, Drew and Neale on either side with their hands up in wild celebration of beauty.

St. Exupery.

Look very closely at the small notch and there are two people bivied there, on Chiaro di Luna.  I heard from some Canadians that a couple of Argentines stumbled into Niponino hungry and exhausted the following day - I think that that was these guys.

Heading down in the fading daylight.

Look closely, you can see two headlamps on the ramp.  A (different) couple of Argentines were heading up to climb all night.

Our day went long. We were starting to get kindof tired...

Us, back at camp, as the sun was starting to come up. The descent from Paso Guillamet went on forever. Neale, bless his tired little heart, seemed to remember that one is supposed to smile for photos, and diligently did his best.

Back at the trailhead we ran into our friends Colin Haley and Rolando Garibotti (adorably, if you'll recall Sarah and Dorte from the sunglasses picture at the beginning of this post, Colin is Sarah's boyfriend and is friend from when I lived in Squamish, and Rolo is Dorte's boyfriend, is the other author of the guidebook, and is a Patagonian climbing legend.). Rolo's truck had had a tire slashed and he couldn't find his hidden key and was generally having one of those days (though he and Colin had made the first ascent of a peak called Cerro Marconi Central). He walked to a friend's house and was able to get a ride back to Chaltén, and I got to jump in the back of the truck.
This photo is once again using the HDR painting mode. But join me, please, in loving this picture.

Thanks Neale and Drew! We got close....

Great Expectations

I put my brand new Sony RX100 on the kitchen table.  For the price, I was expecting greatness.

"Make me a sandwich." I suggested, gently.
It didn't respond.
"The kitchen sure is a mess" I hinted, trying a different approach.
Nothing.
"I've been working a lot lately and my shoulders are sore.  Could you give my shoulders a rub?" I asked hopefully.
Still no response from the camera.

"Make me a sandwich," I said firmly.
I waited.
"Make me a sandwich," this time a command.

The camera sat there, indolent.

I looked around in exasperation, seeking support from elsewhere in the empty room.

"MAKE ME A FUCKING SANDWICH!!" I screamed, spittle landing on my new camera's Zeiss lens.  It continued its complacent silence.

The photos this thing takes had better be fucking divine.

Obviously disinclined to help with the dishes.

Summer Is Not For Blogging

A few scattered photos from the summer, which should serve as a primer for me to bring back the blog.

Canoeing the Clearwater with a large group of friends.  Mighty Mt. Hayes in the background.

While visiting Andy in the hospital in Anchorage, Erica and I took advantage to ski a day at Turnagain Pass with the indomitable Jesse Bear.

My old friend Blaque with our new friend Hege at Merrick's wedding at Sheep Mountain Lodge.

Blaque and I of course took advantage to visit Jesse Bear, since twice a month is not enough for me.  The camera was accidentally set to use the maximum (minimum) aperture, but I was much too hungover to notice at the time. 

Neale and I flew into the Ruth Gorge with big plans.

We wanted to climb the slender grey buttress of the right-most peak.  I could write an entire blog post just on excuses of why we didn't send.  

We quickly realized we had made a mistake, and expressed our emotions thus.

The Moose's Tooth, seen from the summit of Mt. Dickey.

We did some local cragging.

Constructing a sauna dominated my thoughts and plans for the summer, but was not completed all the same.  Eric and Liam helped me get it square, which can be the hardest part.

Laura and I packrafted the Jack River.  I have a disproportionate number of photos from that trip since it was so photogenic.  However, since I do not have a waterproof camera, there are no picture of rafting.

Dogwoods.  I took lots and lots and lots of flower photos on the trip.

A tarn at the high point of the hike that was just too fucking pretty to believe.

  

There is the misconception that you can packraft in nice weather.  This is not true.  If you're not cold, wet and miserable on at least some portion of your trip, you're not packrafting.

I went to Squamish for a month.  I took very few pictures of actual climbing, though I did climb quite a lot.  Colin sends a high, scary and hard boulder problem.  I did not do it.

Susie plays in a puddle on top of the Chief.

Every shot is a glamour shot.

Susie and Mandy rock out to - what else? -  I'm on a Boat on Capt. Rich's sailboat on glorious afternoon.

Back in Alaska, Erica and I packrafted Brushkana Creek.  No pictures of the actual packrafting, of course.

The Brushkana. 

The sauna refused to build itself, and so I worked at it, slowly and as time would allow.

We got a short-lived mid-September snowfall.

It wouldn't be September without a trip to Prindle.

Erica hoofs it in.

Andrew, Erica and I.

Then the notion of summer became dubious.  Matt and I went moose hunting, during which trip I managed to shoot this photo.

And now these pictures are really from winter - an ice climbing trip to Nabesna on my birthday weekend.  See Vaughn in the photo?

Stuckey leads the first pitch of Spring Fling.  We party climbed as Vaughn and I chased Chad, Jason and Angie up the route. 

It's winter.  If you make it back to this blog, I'm sure you'll hear more about it.