Mt Agassiz

Mt Agassiz and The Pursuit of North Palisade
31 July 2015

‘He piled upon the whale’s white hump the sum of all the general rage and hate felt by his whole race from Adam down; and then, as if his chest had been a mortar, he burst his hot heart’s shell upon it.’ –Chapter 41 (Moby Dick)

It must have been a Thursday afternoon when I decided I was done working for the week and drove on up to Bishop and the Eastern Sierra. I picked up a new 9.5 mm – 60 meter Mammut Infinity dynamic climbing rope from Wilson’s Eastside Sports with the vague intention of using it to rappel down North Palisade after ascending it via the southwest side of the U-Notch and the Clyde Variation. An ambitious goal for this lightly seasoned young mountaineer…

But the first order of business was finding the trail to Bishop Pass. After nearly walking into South Lake (more like South Reservoir), I straightened myself out and eased up the trail. The pack felt heavy with a huge rope on top. Not to mention the rains were coming down good and heavy on this unsettled late afternoon. I made camp early under a tree by a nice lake and managed to keep my gear pretty dry. By now I finally had Sierra weather figured and arose early to beat the storms. Once a low pressure front and its accompanying moisture settle over the mountains you can usually be assured of a couple days worth of afternoon showers. I reached Bishop Pass in no time and marveled at the West Slope of Mt Agassiz.

Although North Palisade was my primary objective, I couldn’t pass up this opportunity: I dumped my pack and started bounding up the wonderfully stable, unusually flat boulders. The West Slope is the opposite of a route-finding problem: just go wherever the hell you want, as long as it’s up! In hardly any time at all I reached the summit and took in the spectacular view of the Cirque of the Palisades. After a couple consecutive drought years, thunderous rockfall was pouring down all the couloirs on North Palisade. I guessed the northeast side snow and ice climbs would never come into condition this season and was glad I made the decision to approach from the southwest. For a brief moment the sun shone through the clouds and illuminated the dark hulk of North Palisade. I had seen this massif from Middle Palisade, Mt Sill, and now Mt Agassiz and was overcome with the desire to climb it. Little did I know the mountain would soon take its fateful place as the white whale of my worst nightmares…

After cruising back down the West Slope and grabbing my pack, which I had thoughtfully placed on a prominent glacial erratic, I made for Thunderbolt Pass. I stopped to watch a few young bucks grazing on the bench, and they looked up at me as if to say, ‘Who are you? We haven’t seen anyone like you before!’ I called back, sing song, ‘Hello!’ like a crazy person, talking to deer. The undulating slabs of the bench eventually gave way to some very large boulders jumbled together beneath the pass. The terrain was quite challenging to negotiate with my large pack pulling me left, then right, then ‘Whoa Nelly! Don’t fall backwards now!’ I was glad to find an exquisitely excavated flat campsite almost immediately on the other side of the pass. I found some running water just a five minute walk down the way, ate an entire box of red beans and rice, and shoved off to bed early. I needed a good night’s rest before the big climb tomorrow. Thankfully my decision to camp right at the pass would prove strangely beneficial before this trip was ended…

I would guess I was on the move some time during astronomical twilight because I recall turning on my headlamp to start the hike toward the Southwest Chute. The previous evening I had pored over a few pictures along with Secor’s descriptions in a sad attempt to locate the chute from Thunderbolt Pass. Despite these efforts (unusual considering my predilection for winging it with respect to route-finding), I accidentally, tragically climbed a good portion of the Putterman Couloir. This is what its entrance looks like:

Upon realizing my error (i.e. pulling down all kinds of loose rocks that would have been cleaned on a more well-travelled route), I rappelled out of there. At least I got some practice building anchors! Some day, when I have a willing partner and stronger technical climbing skills, I will have to return to the Putterman for a good laugh, and to see how the route goes higher up. I was about to wave the proverbial white flag and head back to camp when I met another party of three planning to climb North Palisade as well. We decided to join forces and made good progress up the Southwest Chute. Only now did I realize that the correct chute is not quite visible from Thunderbolt Pass, that it lies around the other side of the large Southwest Buttress, and that it is much wider and open than all the others, with a large fan of till at the base. Although we were attempting to follow the LeConte Route, I now believe we passed the LeConte ledge (which did have a cairn) and instead ventured onto Secor’s Moore Variation higher up the chute. The Moore Variation is around 13,700 ft and requires a few short, very airy but easy moves to get into the chute adjacent to, and climber’s left of, the main Southwest Chute.

We scrambled over a few more obstacles and found ourselves in the famous summit bowl right beneath the ridge. However I had lost a lot of time given my route-finding errors earlier in the day. I knew the storms were coming in the afternoon and was hoping to get up and down the mountain before they hit. Ironically just as we re-grouped in the bowl the storm that had clearly been moving closer and closer all day finally got us. It got us real good. Huge chunks of hail and lightning strikes nearby. Being no stranger to this phenomenon I casually whipped out my rain pants, extra insulating layer, and rain jacket all conveniently stowed in my summit pack. While I remained comfortable, neither I nor any member of the party had a clue as to where the hell the summit was. In my sublime confusion I actually thought for a second we had somehow got ourselves beneath Starlight Peak when I spotted a terrifying spire of granite piercing the sky. I couldn’t seem to gain my senses. Visibility remained poor through the thick fog that moved in as the storm abated. Further the rock was extremely slippery making climbing unsafe. At this time we all wisely decided to descend.

However the fog proved relentless, moving in and out as we descended. The thought of blindly attempting to reverse the moves across the Moore Variation was unsettling to say the least. So we decided to rappel into ‘terra incognita.’ Thanks to some crafty ‘anchor’ building by the party of three leader we made it down, but only after great stress derived from rappelling into the unknown. With one last fell swoop reminiscent of the white whale taking off Ahab’s leg during a squall in the emptiness of the South Pacific, the mountain refused to give up my climbing rope after our last rappel back to safety. It had swallowed it right up. No amount of torquing or tossing could free the damn thing. And so I was forced to leave the unsightly mess dangling off the weathered haunches of the mountain. It was completely dark by the time we left the Southwest Chute. We did a fine job negotiating the moraines, and I implored the others to split their lungs if they spotted my tent in the blackness of the night. Soon enough the party leader yelled, ‘Ho! Thar she blows!’ (well maybe he didn’t put it exactly that way) and suddenly we had to say our goodbyes. We had grown close during our brief, memorable climb together. Now I made my last climb of the day – into my warm, cozy sleeping bag! I was way too tired to bother with making dinner.

Another good night’s rest and a sunny, leisurely hike back over the pass gave me the chance to reflect on the climb. Next time I’ll bring extra webbing and rappel rings to make bailing off a climb more safe. During the last rappel, we were forced to wrap the rope directly around an outcrop, and I suspect the friction developed between rope and rock made the rope pull much more difficult than it should have been. And more importantly during climbs with a technical element, I’ll (probably…) do more research with respect to route-finding. That said I’m not at all disappointed with how the trip worked out. The Putterman and the Southwest Chute are very loose and leave a lot to be desired in terms of the quality of the climbing, but there were a few fun, short, cruxy moves along the way. And just missing the summit has given me cause to return to the massif. I have all the time in the world to plan our next meeting…

Mt Agassiz & North Palisade photo album