IBEXtrax.com - Cascade Mountains of Washington State Alpine Lakes Wilderness

This is Page 1 - - - Go to Page 2

Rocking Around Leavenworth

July 1974

Chris and I had spent many an afternoon climbing on Sherman Rock in West Seattle. A local guru Bob Swanson had shown us a number of routes. Chris and I would climb until weak fingers could no longer hold onto the rock. The low grade metamorphic rock, at the quarry near Issaquah, gave us variety and introduced loose rock into the climbing formula. Many times we would be caught by darkness, while searching for a balance point, on a boulder move. The granite rock on the north side of Little Si never turned me on. It was either too hard or too easy. The Mount Si area also seemed to be a catch-all for bad weather, and we were weathered off a few times.

Chris was going into the Coast Guard, so he decided that he deserved one big fling. A planning party was scheduled. After cornering Sherwood to inquire about camping with Rudi, Rudi's name was added to the climbing roster. I was beginning to dislike planning parties, mainly because Chris's hatred of scheduling was most evident then. For the two week trip, a low cost, heavy, minimum substance menu was composed, and the cost we estimated at seventeen fifty each. My financial status was marginal, so I sold my two hundred dollar reel-to-reel tape recorder to Rudi for fifty bucks. A pair of PA climbing shoes and a set of hexentrlc chocks were purchased at the Swallows Nest on Lake Union, and then I was ready.

I was half way packed on the night before we left, when I went to get the Cortina gassed up. While stopping at Chris's, I found a rare sight; Chris was packed early. Chris was proud of the achievement, and he told me so all the way to Rudi's. Arriving back at my house, I finished packing. The weigh-in was depressing: forty five pounds of camping, eating, and sleeping gear; twenty seven pounds of climbing equipment; thirteen pounds of clothes. My shoulders complained just thinking about eighty five pounds of baggage.

Four hours after I went to bed, I was up and loading the car. I had a pair of wool pants that had shrunk in the wash, and I converted them into knickers by blousing them with inter-tube strips. I packed a large piece of Vinyl, to be sewn to the seat when I found time. The last thing I loaded was the milk and the eggs.

At Rudi's we completely overloaded the Cortina with Chris's and Rudi's gear. Rudi had room in the ice chest for the milk and eggs. We were under way by Seven o'clock. The morning was warm and the sky cloudless. Two and a half hours later, we stopped at Tumwater Campground. The campground was closed for renovation. As I got out of the car to stretch, an angry Yellow Jacket flew into the car. After a hasty evacuation, Chris caught the Intruder in a can. Chris let the bee free as we rolled up the windows, and headed down the Tumwater Canyon. As we wound down the canyon, we named the climbing spots from the guide: Jupiter Rock; Waterfall Column; Rattlesnake Rock.

At Castle Rock, we pulled in and stopped. As we piled out of the Cortina, we were ferociously attacked by swarms of hungry mosquitoes. I quickly grabbed my pre-loaded Millet Sac, slipped on my PA's, and jogged up the trail to escape the flying man-eaters. I felt sorry for Chris and Rudi, as they packed up between swats.

On Loggers Ledge I stopped and watched a climber nail up Dan's Direct. When Chris and Rudi arrived, we went around to the Saber Route. A party was on the route. We watched "the second" struggle with a stubborn piton; he finally left it. We roped up and then Chris led out. Rudi belayed. Chris went up thirty feet and arranged himself in a belay position. When Chris was ready, Rudi started up. First he tried an overhang. But, soon gave up and went around. They were out of my sight, and I waited.

I stepped out, away from the rock, to watch Chris's lead. Chris was going slow, and testing every hold. A couple of people came around the rock, and I talked with one young man. He was from Colorado University, and now attending Olympia College. He had been on the Saber Route before, and he watched Chris. He casually said that Chris was off route, and that Chris was getting into class B1. I yelled to Chris, and he corrected his line of attack. The guy from C.U. told me how to use silent signals while climbing. He then climbed up around the corner to belay me. There was an awkward stretch as I rounded the corner. When I reached the belay position, I thanked the guy from C.U.

I started up as Rudi took in the rope. The open book went well, and I used the grip technique on the big bucket sized handholds. The move out of the open book was an exciting layback on flakes. I started up, then stalled, and backed down. I thought it over, and then went for it. As I moved through, I found the balance point. A sense of accomplishment and a wave of relief came over me. Next was the move over the rock horn to Saber Ledge. I clipped into Rudi's belay anchor, and then he edged around to the more spacious part of the ledge. I followed Rudi along Saber Ledge. At the end of the ledge we found a crowd. The Canary Route, Cat Bugler and The Saber Chimney all merge on the end of Saber Ledge. There was a party doing the Canary Nose, and the party ahead of us was just leaving the ledge.

I set up a belay, and Chris started up the open chimney. The rope went out slowly. The hot midday sun was brutal and without a breath of wind. When the rope ran out, I waited for Chris's signal, and then started up the Saber Chimney. The chimney was a series of slightly overhung steps. It was fun to use large secure handholds and small reassuring footholds. As I neared Chris, I was soaked with perspiration. When I popped out of the Saber Chimney, I was refreshed by a slight breeze that flowed across the top of Castle Rock. It was really refreshing. I set a belay below Chris, and he then unroped and tied off an anchor. When Rudi arrived, we unroped. Rudi and I scrambled to the top, and looked around. We sat in the shade, end ate lunch. As I ate, I scanned Midnight Rock for future climbing routes.

I had a salt tablet for desert, and then we slid down the back side to Loggers Ledge. Rudi was elected to go town for water, so Chris and I sat in the wind, and played with Angel Crack. I went up Damnation Crack about ten feet before I eased back down. Chris posed as a picture was taken by a passing tourist. Another guy in PA shoes tried Angel Crack for awhile. But he never came close to the rock horn at the top of the pitch. Angel Crack was just wide enough to get a finger and a half jammed into the vertical crack. To get to the horn at the top you have to pull yourself up with finger jams and smear your feet on the virtually smooth wall. A husky young man came around the ledge, and took a sling in his teeth. Simultaneously all jaws dropped as he placed the sling at the top of Angel Crack. We picked up our jaws and then agreed that it was time to leave.

After we strolled around the base of Jello Tower to the Midway Chimney, Rudi led and I belayed. When Rudi was halfway up Midway I took a drink of water. Rudi yelled down accusing me of an unsafe move. He was right. After that, Rudi got quiet, and then grunted up over the top. When Rudi yelled "belay on", I went up, enjoying every move. I was cleaning the route by removing Rudi's protection and stemming wall to wall in the chimney. The last move at the top was the hardest. On top of Jello Tower, someone had placed a red nylon sling. I took Rudi's position, and then belayed Chris.

The water was gone and the sun was low, so we rappelled off the top of Jello Tower. The spectators down at the Tumwater Canyon road watched as we rappelled down the front of Jello Tower. The rope drag was terrific as Chris pulled the rope through. Going down the trail from Loggers Ledge, my toes ached in my tight rock shoes. While nearing the parking lot, I planned to avoid the mosquitoes. My plan worked well, and I was only stabbed a couple of times.

We drove a short distance down the canyon, and then pulled into a small unimproved campground. I drove through and came to an old one lane bridge. There was on coming traffic. So, I waited as a white VW Buss filled the bridge. As he drove by I asked what was up the road. A bearded hippy type responded, "It's a trip." I crept across the bridge, and headed back up the canyon on the deteriorating road. Rudi was interested in one spot we passed. So, I stopped and let him out. Chris and I Drove on. When I decided that I had had enough, I turned around and noticed a good view of Castle Rock across the canyon. The smell of the burning clutch permeated the floor of the car, as we picked up Rudi. We re-crossed the rusty bridge, and drove the short distance down river to Leavenworth. Chris led me to his friend's house, so he could return a guide that he had barrowed. When Chris returned to the car, he said his friend had moved into the mountains. We went to the Safeway, and bought beer, Gaiter Aid, and ice.

We drove back into Tumwater Canyon, and stopped to camp; just across the bridge. In the fading light I set my tent. A fire was started after a wood gathering party. We cooked hot dogs, and drank beer. Next, came the hamburgers, and more beer. We were all feeling pretty high, and soon I found myself climbing on the bridge. I climbed every possible combination of the old trestle-like structure. Then at the end of the old railroad bridge, we climbed on the masonry near the river. With my hart content, the last climb of the day was into my sleeping bag. The strenuous days work, topped with the beer, induced sleep quickly.

Stiff and groggy, I stumbled out of my tent at nine AM. I found Chris and Rudi acting like they were still sound asleep. I barrowed Rudi's wide angle lens, and with my camera in hand, I started up the road. I greeted two young fisher-boys who had had no luck. I found a good view along the Wenatchee River, and then I caught Castle Rock in the morning sun. After walking back to camp, I read from the guide until Rudi got up. A man came by with a big fish. After breaking camp, I scrambled some more on the bridge, until Rudi said the eggs were ready. The eggs were gone quickly.

As we drove toward Castle Rock we all planned for the mosquitoes. Below the rock I followed the lead of a climber I saw the day before, and wore my tennis shoes up to Loggers Ledge. At the Midway Chimney we got ready, and I anticipated my first lead on class five point four. I was so psyched up that I almost forgot to put my climbing shoes on before I started up. I had to force myself to place protection. The route was easier the second time, but the feeling of accomplishment was still great.

On the top of Jello Tower the red sling was still there, so I clipped in. Rudi came up quickly. As Chris came up, I took a flick. Chris took over the lead, but froze on the crux move "step across". Rudi got psyched-up, and led across. Chris followed to the cave. I stepped across last, and found that the small wired stopper was jammed in tight. I pulled, pushed, and jerked until my clinging position became unsteady. I mantled up, knelt on the sloping ledge, and picked at the wedge with my hammer. I panicked when I almost pulled myself off the small ledge. So, I gave up and then left the stubborn stopper for the next climber to salvage.

The climb up past the horn wasn't exactly on buckets. But, My PAs held well on the sloping holds. Rudi continued to lead out of the cave and into the squeeze chimney. After rearranging his equipment while hanging at the entrance, Rudi grunted through. When Rudi climbed out of sight, the rope paid out very slowly; and with frequent stops. Rudi's yell was scarcely understandable, and after a discouraging exchange, Chris started up. I reminded Chris to remove the protection as he climbed.

I was becoming bored. So, I found a comfortable position and then dozed. As I neared the border of deep slumber, I was disturbed by another lengthy shouting contest. When the yelling was over, I understood that Rudi was going up, and I would have to wait. I dozed off to sleep. When I opened my eyes I was slightly shocked to see the Wenatchee River four hundred feet below me.

Chris said, "Climb", and up I went. The squeeze chimney was tight for awhile, but then it opened up into a broken area. Chris was in an alcove belaying from a bolt. Chris explained some of the yelling, and confessed his anger at Rudi's slow pace. From the moment Chris climbed out of sight, the boredom again overcame me. Eons passed, and mixed feeling transpired. Finally the word came down, and off I went like a shot. A short distance from the alcove a corridor opened onto the upper face. I followed the path of least resistance; a diagonal ramp to the right. The ramp turned into a crack, and the crack petered out. I found before me an assortment of pot holes. Discovering that I was confused about the route, I yelled up for directions. Chris yelled, "Go left.", and Rudi looked over the top. Rudi seemed surprised, and then he laughed and pointed out the route that he took. As I climbed out of the pot holes, my PAs came into there own. By smearing the smooth rubber soles on the rock face, I began to use smaller and smaller holds with confidence.

On the top of Castle Rock we ate lunch in the shade of the summit rocks. We calculated that it took us six hours to do the Midway Route. The time in the guide was two hours. However, the guide also said that Midway has been climbed in ten minutes, also at night, in winter and descended; Jello Tower had been climbed by a person with one arm. I thought; maybe we're not quite there yet.

Going back down the back side of Castle Rock, my feet complained when I got sand in my shoes. When I arrived at Loggers Ledge, I changed back into my tenni runners. There was plenty of daylight left. So, by the time we reached the Cortina the plan was unanimous; off to The Peshastin Pinnacles.

Heading toward the city of Wenatchee and while watching the skyline right, we missed the turn off to The Peshastin Pinnacles. We had to swing into a gas station. After checking the gas prices, we made a U-turn, and then followed the directions from the guide. When I saw the sheriff car, I thought of my loud exhaust system. Then I considered the expired drivers license I had in my wallet. We parked down the road out of hearing range, and walked up the road. The sheriff was talking to some climbers in a white VW bus. Rudi talked, and found that we could not sleep in the apple orchard. The sheriff recommended Eight Mile Campground, located up Icicle Creek. The climbers talked of an outstanding finger jam called Classic Crack, and then they waved their taped up hands with warning.

Going back through Leavenworth we stopped at the Bavarian Market, and bought pickles and shakes. The day was completely used up by the time we arrived at Eight Mile Campground. My exhausted body wore away my mental composure, and I became rash and selfish. My ailing Cortina was smoking and overheated. I was in no mood to drive through a quiet campground, with the blown out muffler, maneuvering the headlights so Chris could pick the best campsite. I blew up, and then erupted for an unrecorded time.

Chris picked the campsite, and the tents were pitched. I was feeling hungry and exhausted, so I asked," what's for dinner?" What followed was a nightmare, wherein I was found cooking macaroni, under high stress, and for fear of failure. The rain started, and I was informed that the dinner was ruined. The nightmare ended when I collapsed on my bag, and entered the restful world of sleep.

I was up first. I wandered around and then found the "head". Rudi's bacon was good with our meager ration of Granola. I grabbed my rope, and started searching for Classic Crack. The climbers in the white VW bus had said, "Just across the road", so I was determined. A passing climber corrected me, and gave me directions to a place that I had been before. On my last trip Into the Enchantments, Mike had parked his parent station wagon at the base of Classic Crack.

Arriving at the lot, I wondered why I did not notice the crack before. I asked, "How do you get up to rig the belay?" One of the half dozen climber said I could use his rope. I peeled out of the crack once, put on some of Rudi's tape, and peeled off twice more. When the generous climber took his rope, I scrambled around the side of the boulder and then rigged Rudi's rope. I used a Dulfersitz rappel to get down. Chris's first try reached just above the bulge, and then he ripped off. I tried using a layback, and fell two more times. I looked at my hands with hanging chunks of skin and dripping blood, and gave up. Chris got psyched up, and went over the top. I was humbled by his skill and I congratulated Chris. Chris played it cool. But, I knew he was elated.

Back at Peshastin, I noticed the white VW bus as we walked through the orchard toward the gate. The first sandstone formation we came to was Orchard Rock. I was intrigued with the Tunnel Route on the north side of the rock. I had mixed emotions when I found that I was elected to lead. I was unsure of my PA shoes on the first move. A large hexentrlc chock placed just below the tunnel set well. After a hand friction pull up, I squirmed through the tunnel. I almost turned back before I swung around an exposed corner. A small face of questionable holds ended with a no handholds traverse on a rounded ledge. I rigged a belay, using the rappel bolt just south of the summit. As Rudi came up, I watched the chipmunks race around the rock. I rearranged the rope when Rudi got to the small face. Rudi belayed Chris as I continued to watch the chipmunks. I rapped off first, and then hiked up toward Dinosaur Rock.

I cut through the Dinosaur-Martian saddle, and when over to the Trigger Finger to check it out. I climbed out on Austrian Slab and waited. When Chris and Rudi arrived I trucked off to solo the Skyline Route on Dinosaur Rock. The Skyline Route led up a ledge to a step across, and then over the top of a knob to another ledge. There was a sling threaded through a hole. I was at the sling for awhile. Three times I backed down, and then back up. Finally I rapped down a short distance, and then did a pendulum across. While crawling through the pot holes, I belayed myself with a brake bar. As I watched the guide fall from my back pocket, I wondered about falling. At the base of an open book I pulled the rope through. The open book led to a table with a bolt. I edged out onto an exposed dead end ledge. I edged back to the table after finding no large handholds. I rigged another self belay, and ended up aiding around a corner. I pulled the rope through, and scrambled to the summit horn. I tried a bear hug on the first summit, but when that didn't work, I gave up. After a tricky move around a corner, I climbed the other summit. I ate a snack, and watched some bees fly into an apparent nest that was just below me. I rappelled down and ran out of rope before I reached the ledge. I clipped into the convenient bolt and pulled the rope through. After trying to re-rig the rappel, I ended up hanging by my hands and then dropping off to the bigger ledge below. Another short rap' put me within scrambling range of the guide. I found the guide hanging in a bush.

I scrambled back through the saddle and then traverse over to the Trigger Finger. I found that Chris had aided the five eight move at the top, and Rudi had used Prusik slings to reach the upper bolt. Their rappel was still in place. So, with a belay from above, I moved quickly up the Trigger Finger. After rounding a comer, I found large sloping holds. "Hurry up" called my impatient belayer from below. I went for it, and grabbed the sling that was holding the rope. I swung around, and continued up. While climbing above my belay, I moved slowly. My sharp toed PAs gripped the small holds. I gave instructions to the cameraman, and stood up on top. While climbing back down to the sling, I got mixed up with my foot placement. I was in a position that felt so insecure that I was afraid to move. After awhile my legs began to jump like I was operating an old foot powered sewing machine. Finally I went for it, and arrived safely at the sling. I rigged a brake, and rappelled off. While I changed shoes, Chris talked with two Californian apple pickers. We sand screed down the back side of Martian Slab.

Back at Eight Mile Campground, Rudi wasn't hungry. Chris cooked dinner, and I took Rudi's ration of cocoa.

On the morning of the seventeenth, after oatmeal, we broke camp, and drove down to the Snow Creek trailhead. I counted thirteen bodies pile out of a white VW bus. My terrible thoughts about my "too heavy'' pack were declared an understatement. I tilted forward, and stumbled across the bridge over Snow Creek. I was wearing rented boots; Palu's. When I passed my old resting spot, while going up the switchbacks, I evaluated my physical condition as better. Soon I pulled over to let Chris pass; so he could keep up with Rudi. I pushed myself to move faster. Just as I was about to give in and take a break, the trail leveled off. I was able to stride out. I continued, with forced breathing to the Snow Creek Wall turn off. We called it the Wall Camp. Chris and Rudi were talking with a young man who had a flex frame pack. As we ate cheese and pilot crackers, a group of soaking wet hikers came down the trail. We loaded up, and headed out. We stayed together for awhile, and talked of meeting at the Five Mile Bridge Camp. Rudi hiked on ahead. After I guarded the trail while Chris irrigated the bushes, he paid me with raisins, and left me behind. I trudged on, moaning under the heavy load.

I was disappointed that they didn't wait at the Bridge Camp. After resting, nibbling, and cooling off, I moved out onto the talus. I saw Rudi and Chris wave from above; I didn't wave back. The only thing that kept my blistered feet prodding along was my memory of being almost there. When I saw Nada Lake I felt rejuvenated. I marched around Nada Lake looking for my partners. After crossing the creek below the falls, I swung off my pack. When I found Chris and Rudi, they introduced me to John and Seth. Back at the falls, John commented on the size of my overloaded Cruiser. When I said it was my Winnebago. They all laughed. A flaring Sevea display preceded the preparation of the evening meal. John and Seth talked about their abandon plans for doing the Pacific Crest Trail. Their Texas upbringing had not prepared them for the cold deep Northwest snows.

In the morning I strolled back to the outlet of the lake, and then captured the Black Pyramid in the morning sun. While visiting the outhouse, I found another Yellow Jackets nest above the door. A family of hikers came by to talk, and I told them of the valve that controls the water flow in Snow Creek. With breakfast completed we packed and then trucked.

We again met the Seattle family near the valve. I gave instructions as to its location. At the top of the switchbacks a large bag of garbage was hanging from a branch. The first snow patch was passed just below the divide. As I passed over the top, I remember the two enthusiastic elderly hikers that I met there in '72. They did nothing but rave about the beauty of the upper Enchantments. Of course I found all they said to be true.

At the Snow Lakes dam we gathered, and dared each other to go first. The water was rushing over the top of the dam and the walkway along the top was less than a foot wide. I took off my boots between mosquitoes swats. The water was icy cold. The Seattle family crossed, and then their leader produced the guide. I pointed out the good camp spots. The leader told me of the Freeway Crack near Lake Union in Seattle. I mentioned Classic Crack. We sprinted around upper Snow Lake, and stopped at Camp Disenchantment. Rudi and Seth went ahead, but I caught up when they stopped to get lost. We crossed a creek on a tricky loose log.

After crossing the creek we started up the steep and rugged high route that was named after the past supervisor of the Wenatchee Forest; A.H. Sylvester. My heavy load became more uncomfortable as the route steepened. Rudi and Seth trucked off, and soon they were out of sight. John, Chris, and I stopped at the falls, and soaked up water and the view. Above the falls I fell behind, but I caught up by cutting across a steep snow patch. Chris went over the top, and I led John around to the left, which was less steep. Rudi and Seth were waiting as we trudged up to the crest. Naiad Lake looked ugly from a recent landslide.

After we ate a late lunch, I felt rejuvenated. I said, "Let's climb the High Priest." My enthusiasm wasn't very catchy, and Chris said it was too late. John was with me, so we planned our line of ascent. We cashed our packs, and then headed up. Without my heavy pack I quickly scrambled up the talus slide, and skirted some snow via a moat. Above the moat, a steep chute offered some interesting moves. We stashed our Ice axes, and followed an open book to a cul-de-sac. We climbed out of the dead end by scaling the face on the left. This short face provided access to the ridge top. As I popped over the crest, I was overwhelmed by the fabulous view to the north. Stretched out below me was the Shield Lake area that was called The Lost World Plateau. John saw nothing but exposure, and moved back from the edge. John explained that he had had enough.

I changed into my climbing shoes, and roped up. I directed John into a comfortable belay position, and then moved out onto the north face of the High Priest. A rocky ledge led to an open book which I stemmed. A perfect toe jam ended at a roof. An old pin offered some protection as I fictioned right across a slanting table. After a lot of groping and grunting, I pulled myself over a large chock stone. When John said that I was at the end of the rope, I pulled it up. On a large table I went around to the right, and found a jam that led through a tunnel. Once through the tunnel, I stepped onto the summit.

The sun had set, so I quickly took a flick, and signed into the register. The misty clouds over McClellan Ridge foretold of things to come. I noticed on my ascent an old rappel sling to the right of my route. In hopes of finding a less strenuous descent route, I moved out onto the north face. After a finger traverse, I managed to jam my toes into a shallow crack, and then slowly ease down. I soon reached the familiar rock below the slanted table. I quickly stemmed down the open book, and then returned to John. John said that he was cold. We moved off the ridge, and each ate some of John's Mint Cake. I sensed that John was uneasy about the exposure. So, we roped up. We moved together down to the axes. We down climbed the chute in the gathering dusk.

As we stepped onto the snow, I anticipated a quick descent. John's idea of a quick descent was the flying, spraying, and out of control type. I watched the rope pay out, and just before the end, I dug in. After I stopped John, I glissaded down to him. I gave John a brief lesson on self arrest, and then John took off again; out of control. It was a little harder to stop him the second time. So, when I reached John the second time, I shortened the rope between us. I showed John a boot-ax belay, and accidentally pulled him off balance. John fell past me, again out of control. The belay passed the test nicely. I waved John on, and we then went down together. The rope was taunt between us, and I leaned heavily on my ax to keep the speed down. As we neared the rocks, I called to John to do it, and he made a good self arrest. We picked our way down the talus in the dark. When we arrived at the packs, we decided to camp by Naiad Lake, instead of hiking to wherever the others had camped. We found some dry ground, and laid out the tent. Chris had my tent poles. So, we used the tent like a big bivouac sack. I cooked some of John's food, and we ate. We climbed into the sack, but I didn't sleep well. A loud rockfall almost brought me to my feet. After a brief period of lightning, the rain started. We set the rain fly by using John's tent poles.

The next morning was bright and clear. We slept in. For breakfast we ate some more of John's food. Rudi and Seth arrived to our rescue, and were followed by Chris with the first aid gear. Rudi said that he saw me on the top. The rescue party expressed their dislike of rescue work and especially the parts were they didn't sleep because of the worrying. I went into some detail of our experiences to help smooth things out. I explained how we just got up and other feeble excuses. John and I broke camp, and then loaded up. We went around Lake Vivian below Excaliper Rock. The camp was located on a peninsula on Leprechaun Lake, beside Pixie Pond. I set my tent, and then ate my ration of Potato-beef-rot-Knorr's. I sat in the sun, and stitched the white vinyl patch on my knickers.

I became bored, and was able to talk Chris into going up on the Dragontail Plateau. We quickly threw together our (Millet) Sacs, and then hiked out over snow covered Sprite Lakelet. We rounded Rune Lake to the north, and then passed close to Talisman Lake. After the short steep to the south of Talisman Lake, we easily roamed through the Brasingamen Lakelets. We gained altitude by traversing the base of Little Annapurna. We saw goat tracks just to the east of the Witches Tower. Chris kicked steps up the steep snow, and soon we broke over onto the high plateau. Chris started up East Dragontail, and I scaled the point just to the west. I called the peak Little Tail. I caught a flick of Chris on the top of East Dragontail. I quickly scrambled along the ridge to Chris's position. It was getting late, so we decided not to go on to Dragontail Peak.

We went down onto the plateau, and followed a goat trail to the divide above Annapurna Creek. There was a tricky move to get to the snow. The snow was too crusty to glissade, so we used the plunge step down the steep snow. We held a high contour around Little Annapurna. As we passed above Crystal Lake, the sun started to set. The high clouds turned all shades of red, and soon the entire area of the lower Enchantment Lakes was bathed in a pink glow. I picked my way down the muddy cliffs above Crystal Lake. Down on the flats that are south of Rune Lake, I waited for Chris. When Chris arrived we took a smoke break, and then continued down over Sprite Lakelet into Magic Meadow. The sun cups above Leprechaun Lake were large. When we arrived at camp, Rudi and the mosquitoes greeted us. During dinner, Rudi and I planned a Chessmen Traverse.

This is Page 1 - - - Go to Page 2

	This site created and maintained by THE IBEX - Page last revised: Images For Sale: High resolution (25meg) TIFF files (25 per CD) and 8x10 prints available. View Cart