July 6th, 2016

We started late; we had gotten up early only to see Athabasca hidden in clouds. Instead of getting an alpine start we resolved to drink coffee and watch for improvements. After a cup or two we were optimistic enough to think it could clear, so we started up. If it didn’t clear we’d still have a nice day hike, but we brought all the gear to climb the north face just in case our coffee infused dreams came true.

We got to the glacier after a few hours of winding up a dirty, rocky, hard to follow trail. A few times on the approach we had seen the clouds briefly part enough to see the north face. Heading onto the glacier we quickly found the snow condition was miserable. I was breaking trail, and it was so soft that I was sinking down to my waist at times. We wondered why we didn’t bring skis. Even so, it was manageable and the base of the route wasn’t that far away, I knew once we got on steeper terrain the snow wouldn’t be such a problem. Eventually we slogged up to the base and had a clear view of the north face and summit, somewhere over 1000ft above us. We were at the base pretty late in the morning for a climb as long as this, but decided to go for it. We’d spent the last week or two staring up into the mountains hoping for climbing weather, and didn’t want to give up a clear day.

We weren’t sure what the climbing would be like. The guidebook I had claimed the grade was AI2, 5.4. Easy. I would only later find out that the melting glacier had changed the route drastically over the years, and more recently the famous Barry Blanchard had climbed the route and called it “5.9 mixed”. I told Lubica I would start leading and that once I got out 200ft (the full rope length) she should start simul-climbing until she didn’t feel comfortable (simul-climbing is a technique where both people climb at the same time, it increases risk a bit but is much faster). I set out up the snow slope, kicking in steps.

The first hurdle was a bergschrund about 50 feet up. I got to it pretty quickly, and it was a bit overhanging… not something I wanted to try to get over with no protection. I moved left 30ft to a small snow bridge leading up the bergschrund. The first few times I put weight on it, my foot punched through to my knee, but after a few tries I found two spots that held my weight and allowed me to move across.

That hurdle out of the way, I eyed the rock band far above and aimed for a notch. The slope was all snow, good for step kicking but not for protection. In our efforts to go lightweight we had decided to leave snow stakes behind. Eventually I found myself 200ft up still with no protection; no problems though, the climbing was easy enough. Lubica started moving up behind me. Another 50ft up as she was nearing the bergschrund I stopped and kicked in some solid steps, then buried my ice axes as deep as they would go. If the snow bridge collapsed on her, she would pull the rope tight on me; if she pulled me off I would drop the 200ft and slam into the bergschrund. She passed over the bergschrund with no problems.

We kept moving up, soloing and getting higher and higher. We were far enough up now that I was getting uncomfortable, a fall would be very bad for both of us. The snow was getting harder as well, I couldn’t kick in as secure of steps. I stopped and excavated about a foot down into the snow with my axe and was relieved to find some solid blue ice. I placed a 21cm ice screw; at least if one of us fell the screw should keep us from ending up way down below in the bergschrund.

Confidence boosted by the ice screw, I charged up the slope. I had only brought 7 ice screws so I planned to place them sparingly, I waited another 60ft or so before placing my 2nd ice screw. We went on like this for the full rope length until Lubica got to my first ice screw and removed it from the ice. My goal was to always keep at least two ice screws between us; not much protection for a span of 200ft, but enough that a fall shouldn’t be deadly.

The snow eventually gave way to ice, and the climbing got harder. I could no longer kick in a step, instead I had to rest on the 50-degree ice on the front points of my crampons. It’s pretty secure at first, but very tiring on your calves. Every 60ft or so when I’d stop to place a screw, I’d chop a little one inch wide ledge with the adze end of my ice axe to stand on, giving me a more secure and somewhat restful position while I wound the screw into the ice.

We were getting up the face pretty far now, the rock band was almost within reach. I had 3 ice screws left, just enough to build a belay and bring Lubica up and collect the ice screws she had. I decided instead to place my last ice screws and make a run for the rock band above… surely I would find some rock protection there where I could use the cams, nuts, and pitons hanging from my harness. I started “running it out” a bit more, going longer lengths between the ice screws to try to make few remaining screws last until the rock band. I had just placed my last screw 30ft below, and with another 40ft until the rock band I heard Lubica yell “Put me on belay!”

Shit. I had nothing to use to build a belay. She was getting uncomfortable with the difficulty of the ice and was worried that she might fall; and she knew a fall wouldn’t be too bad for her, but it would create a huge fall for me since I was climbing without protection far between ice screws. I yelled back down “I’m out of screws, we need to make it to the rock band!” The next 40ft of climbing was unnerving and difficult. I would take a step, heave on the rope with my body weight, and try to give her some tension to move up. The ice was starting to dinner plate (when you swing your axe into the ice and dinner plate sized chunks of ice blow off) and generally turning rotten. I tried not to knock ice on Lubica, but some chunks rained down anyhow.

On top of this, the sun was just starting to peek through the clouds. Within a few minutes of the sun hitting the face, I was seeing snow and rocks falling past to my right, caused by the snow melting higher on the face. I tried to stay below a rock outcrop that would hopefully protect us, but if the sun came out in its full glory I was afraid the wall was going to become bowling alley with us acting as the pins.

Finally, I got to the rock outcrop I had been using as a shield. It was a pile of choss. Nothing was even remotely solid, or would accept my cams and nuts. Luckily I had brought 2 pitons, so I hammered them in with my axe; one knifeblade seemed solid, even though it was in a vertical crack; the other angle piton expanded the entire crack as I hammered it in to the point that I was worried the whole column would just fall off. Oh well, that’s as good as it’s going to get I thought. I finished building to belay and yelled down to her that she was on belay. She continued up, cleaning my ice screws until she made it to my belay.

At the belay I saw Lubica was about to lean back on the anchor when I warned her “Don’t do that, it might not hold.” She didn’t seem surprised and just said “Oh, it’s good you said that I was about to lean back”. I had chopped a ledge a few feet long and a few inches wide, so we stood on that while trying not to put any weight on the anchor.

I was sure the route went to the right up a snow gulley; it looked good, I figured the crux of the route was frozen over and I’d be able to ice climb up this gulley placing a few ice screws. Lubica was saying something about going out left, but I wasn’t listening; the sun had gone back behind clouds, and in a hurry I launched out right, hoping to get off the face both before the sun could come back out and before nightfall could trap us on the climb. I placed a screw or two traversing right, then did another 50ft runout with the intention of placing a screw at the bottom of the gulley. When I got there I dug for a placement, only to find there was no ice; just rock under the snow.

Oh well, I’ll just place some gear in the rock higher. I had read somewhere that the crux was protected by fixed pitons. I started up, sure that I would find protection soon. As I moved up, I started to get an eerie feeling. This rock was loose. The “ice gulley” was no ice gulley at all, it was a 1mm thick layer of ice with snow on top, and rotten rock underneath. If I cleared away the ice and snow to look for gear, the rock would just fall out from behind when I tried to climb on it. The ice was way too thin for ice screws, barely enough to even hold the tips of my axe.

More than once I’ve felt myself dancing with death, but most of the time it’s a harmless kind of dance; where there’s an understanding that it’s just for fun, and nothing will come out of it. I started to realize that I was dancing here, but didn’t yet fully realize my partner had grave intentions.

I kept moving up, looking for gear. The climbing was getting steeper and harder. What the ****? Where are those fixed pitons! There was no sign of fixed gear anywhere, and I had placed my only two pitons back at the belay with Lubica.

I stuffed two cams into a flaring icy slot and equalized them; it’s pretty well established that cams won’t hold on ice, so I didn’t bother testing them. A little higher I tried placing a nut, it jiggled right out. I tried tapping it in with the tip of my axe pick, trying to be careful not to mash the tip of my ice axe. It remained only half embedded in the rock. None of this gear would even hold my body weight, let alone the much greater force of a fall. By now my last solid piece, a 15cm ice screw, was 70ft below and to the left.

Around this point, I got a tingling, cold sensation in the back of my neck. It started to move down my spine, fanning out through my body. Oh, I’ve gone too far. I’m not a superstitions type of person but this was a feeling that my rational mind couldn’t place. It felt like the cold hand of death pulling me from this world. Suddenly I realized that I was dancing very close to the edge. I glanced down at my fall… ok, 30ft to the snowy ledge, not bad, probably just a broken leg or two. Then the bounce, another 40ft and… oh, the rock outcrop. That’ll kill me for sure. I’ll hit that, then fly down the north face another 70ft until the screw stops me. Yup, I’m dead for sure.

Memories of the accidents I’ve seen in the mountains flashed through my mind. I wondered if this is how they had felt in their last moments. I wondered how Lubica would get down. She would have to descend the face alone. She probably had enough ice screws that she could get down, or maybe she would make v-threads. The “rescuers” probably wouldn’t make it up here until daylight the next morning.

I used my teeth to pull off my gloves one by one and stuffed them inside my jacket. It was cold but I wanted every nerve in my fingers to feel the ice axes. When dry tooling (using an ice axe on rock), the difference between something holding your weight and something slipping off is a very fine difference that’s difficult to feel.

I was getting desperate for some protection. I started wrenching out football sized rocks with my axe, hoping that in the cavity they left I could place something. I tried to place a #1 cam but it just disintegrated the rock when I gave it a little pull. Lubica yelled up that I was running out of rope, I was almost 200ft above her. Fortunately, she was below to the left, so the debris I was raining down didn’t put her in danger. There was absolutely nothing to place for a belay. I saw a little snowy slope up and right another 15ft and made up my mind to try to get there; there wouldn’t be any gear, but maybe I could just sit in the snow, kick in my heels, and try to bring her up. It was a really stupid idea, but I couldn’t think of any other options.

Just as I set my resolve to go with this suicidal plan, something caught the corner of my eye. A piton! It was up and left about 6ft. If I could make it there, I wouldn’t have to die. The only problem was that the climbing was not easy to get there. It steepened to my left, and the little chips I was putting my crampon front points on were generally loose rocks, only held in place by a bit of ice. I was kicking and tapping them with my axes before fully trusting them, trying to judge by sound and vibrations if they would hold my weight.

I don’t know how much time passed, but it could have been an eternity. Life was right there, so close that I could almost touch it. I moved left towards the piton. I tried to focus every sense I had, willing myself to feel every grain of snow, ice, dirt, and rock that was keeping me on the wall.

Augghhhh! If I can only make that piton! Just let me get to that piton!

I was finally within reach. I set my right tool on some combination of dirt and rock that I couldn’t see beneath the snow, but it felt ok. I put my left axe over my shoulder and reached back to grab the first carabiner my fingers touched. I pulled it out, the carabiner was attached to the #1 cam that I had tried to place earlier; no matter, I just need to clip the carabiner to that piton. As I stretched my hand out left I could feel my body weight shifting and pulling on my axe. It felt bad, I was torqueing it left instead of down. I adjusted and tried to put a bit more pressure on my left toes, hoping to shift some weight from my axe head to my crampon points. I was almost fully stretched now and the carabiner was an inch away now, I had to reach just a bit further…

Finally, the carabiner went through the hole in the piton and snapped shut. The feeling of relief was incredible. I wasn’t going to die here. The song was ending and the dance was over. A single rusty piton left by someone long ago was my savior.

I found two more pitons about six feet higher, I used them to set up a belay. Still wondering what went wrong I glanced out left and saw a row of pitons. I had been off route; the piton protected route I heard of went up 50ft to my left then traversed over a ledge. I’d nearly killed myself by making a small mistake route finding.

Lubica followed up, decidedly on edge after watching my lead. She’s seen me climb enough to realize that this climb was different.

The next pitch of rock was the alleged crux of the route. It was difficult, but well protected and on considerably better quality rock. Once again dry tooling with no gloves got me above the rock band, and I was back on snow. Thankful for the easy terrain I slipped my gloves back on and headed up the gulley for the summit. I ran out of rope and pounded my two piton into some rock on the side of the gulley, and belayed Lubica up. The next pitch was a snow slope that got me to the summit. Standing on top, there was once again no ice or rock to place gear, so I swung my axe into the snow, stood on top of it, and used it as my anchor to belay up Lubica.

I had expected the climb was over, but looking towards the descent I could see that we needed to traverse a corniced ridge. We started walking out the ridge, being careful to both not slip down the north face on our right, but also to not break through the cornice and fall down the south side. It was extremely exposed, but really no more difficult than walking. If one of us fell, say down the north face, the plan was for the other to jump down the south face and in theory falling off opposite sides of the mountain, the rope would stop us. Luckily we never had to test the theory. Eventually the ridge looked easier on the other side of the cornice, so I bashed through it with my ice axe and climbed onto the downwind side of it.

From here we followed the ridge over another small peak, then down onto a glacier on the south side of the mountain. I was happy that it didn’t get dark before we got our feet on the glacier, the descent would have been very tricky in the dark. It ended up getting dark on the way out, and once we thought we were lost, but we managed to pick up a trail leading us the right direction. We got back to the van sometime around 11pm, brewed some tea, and reflected about the climb for a bit before crawling into bed. Lying in bed staring into the darkness, the day’s events re-lived themselves in my mind as they would for many, many, nights in the future.