Derek and I tried this route last year to train for Mt. Watkins later that year. It started to rain on us after we finished 18 pitches and we rapped for 5 hours in the rain, wrestling with tangled, soaked ropes on the low-angled slabs. It was arduous. Of course, leaving it undone weighed on us, especially because the crux of the route was the last five pitches. The tedious rappel descent was actually a positive this time, as my injured ankle makes descending complicated talus very difficult and slow.
Ever since I fell into a crevasse on Mt. Rainier, I’ve been hampered by my ankle, which has been severely injured before as well. A recent MRI revealed extensive damage and to fully heal it *might* require surgery. I’ve been testing it more lately to see what I can and cannot do and rock climbing seems to work pretty well. Returning to Infinite Bliss was the next step.
Strangely, and unexplainably, especially considering my ankle and Derek’s lack of recent climbing, we got a lackadaisical start. In the past I’ve set the schedule for our adventures, being the more experienced and more driven partner, but in the last few years, I defer more to Derek. I learned years ago to treat him as an equal partner with perhaps superior risk assessment than myself. He’s stronger, more agile, has better vision, and has a great intuition in the mountains. One day soon, he’ll be my complete guide, but for now we are a roughly equal partnership with differing strengths and weaknesses, but a climbing philosophy that is 95% the same. He is my favorite partner, despite the stresses that sometimes come with family members. These days, I want to climb with partners that I love. I love a lot of my friends, but there is no shortage of love with Derek.
Last year, we started hiking at 6:20 a.m. This year we didn’t leave his house in Seattle until 7 a.m.! We started hiking at 8:20 a.m., already two hours behind last year, while hoping to do five more pitches and five more rappels. Plus, the van parked right at the start of the trail indicated that we’d have company up there. The approach through the woods starts steep and then just gets ridiculous. On the descent, for the first time ever, I measured progress by the hundredths of a mile. It took us 40 minutes to get to the base.
Above us, we could see two climbers on the eighth pitch. Two pairs of shoes at the base made it clear they were the only party above us. Our strategy was for the second to carry the pack so that the leader would be unencumbered. This makes more sense when pitching things out, but sure puts a burden on the second when simul-climbing, which we did some of.
The nature of this route and the descent makes 70-meter ropes, yes, that is plural, a necessity. You cannot rappel this route with a single 80-meter rope (not that we owned one) and with two 60-meter ropes you can’t combine but one rappel. The least efficient strategy would be to climb with a 70-meter rope and carry an extra 60-meter rope. This is what we did! Don't do this. Also, it isn’t ideal to carry a super thin extra rope because then you can’t simul-rappel, which is very helpful speed wise, and for handling both ropes while descending. Since the route is mostly a slab, while descending you are constantly pulling the rope off ledges and throwing it down again. When simul-rappeling each person just manages one rope. Alas, this makes for a heavy pack. And we took nearly three liters of water. And our approach shoes for the rappel down. This last decision was a huge win.
With memories of the rain from last year, I brought a light shell. Derek trusted the forecast and didn’t even bring a shell. I thought about leaving my shell in a show of solidarity, but my pullover was soaked in sweat from foolishly wearing it on the approach and I didn’t want to pull on a wet garment when/if it got cold, so I brought the shell.
We meant to bring 3 Micros, but forgot two of them. We meant to bring two headlamps, but forgot one of them. Then, I made a decision so stupid that it staggers the mind. My only explanation was that I was still thinking about solidarity when I left my headlamp at the base because Derek forgot his. Is zero lights better than one light? No, it is not. Regardless, we launched upwards.
I took the first block. Because the route goes straight up, mostly on smooth slabs, and because I only had one micro, I led on the entire 70 meters. I’ve shamed climbers (silently in my mind and whispered to my partners) for planning to simul-climb with all 70-meters of rope and here I was doing exactly that. But it was only because of these unique conditions. Plus, having the rope laying on the slab instead of coiled around my neck took some weight off of me. It worked fine, though I would have preferred more micros and a shorter length.
I put the first four pitches together, placing the Micro at the second belay, just after Derek left the ground. These pitches were rated 5.6, 5.4, 5.4, and 5.6 and went by quickly. Derek took over and led the 5th (5.5, 110’), 6th (steep 5.7, 160’), and 7th (steep 5.6, 190 feet) to a huge ledge. The team above us was climbing the 10th pitch at this point.
After some food and some water, I strung the next two pitches together, a 200-foot 5.5 pitch into a 160-foot 5.9 pitch. Derek led pitch 10, a 100-foot 5.8 that felt easy, into a 50-foot 3rd class section to get right below the next pitch, the first 5.10 pitch of the route. The team above us was leading the 12th pitch and the second was at the belay atop the 10b pitch. He called down to us, “This pitch you are about to do is so good!” I knew he was right, as we’d climbed it before, but it seemed even better this time.
We decided to take a short break for some more food and water and to give the climbers above a bit of space, since I was planning to link the next two pitches. I felt really smooth and dialed on the 10b pitch and this gave me confidence for the harder pitch above. I linked into the 5.8 pitch above it, without Derek having to leave the ledge below. Climbing this without the pack was a huge advantage. I felt for Derek having to smear his way up this nearly holdless section of climbing, but he got it clean. He did remark that he was close to coming off three times. I’m sure it was due to the weight on his back, but it shook his confidence a bit. That and the lack of rock climbing, I’m sure.
Derek led the next 5.2 pitch, which only had one bolt on it, up to the party above, whose leader was about to finish the next 5.7 pitch. The leader did not enjoy the massive runout on the 5.2 pitch, but that type of protection-less climbing is ideal for a seasoned Minion, which Derek is. He scampered up to Kenton and chatted him up for a bit. Kenton asked Derek if he wanted to climb over the top of their rope, but there was no point in that, since Kenton was just about to take off anyway. Derek clipped into the belay, but didn’t go off belay. Ten minutes later he was following Kenton up the next pitch.
I shouldered the heavy pack and followed both pitches, trying to move quickly to increase our chances of passing, but I need not have worried. Derek had already negotiated the pass and Jed and Kenton were already discussing retreat. Jed, the leader worried on the 5.2 pitch below, asked Derek about the runout pitches above (Derek having already told them that we’d been on them before). The pitches above are much worse in this regard since it is quite difficult to know where to go and likely to be 150 feet away from protection and not even know if you are on route. They decided to descend.
When I arrived at the belay, I was greeted warmly by all and Jed said, “It is so cool that you are a father and son team.” That has happened to us a couple of times and I love it. In Patagonia, we caught a party of four on Cerro Solo and soloed on by and they said, “We heard about this father and son team…” It is indeed a privilege that I do not take for granted.
I moved into the lead for what is probably the most stressful part of the climb: three pitches of barely protectable, indistinct, a bit loose and lichen covered, highly featured, lumpy slab climbing. Only 5.2 and 5.0, but route finding is the crux. This is one of my specialities. I can’t pull hard, but I can handle this terrain. I’d been up it once before and missed the only bolted belay on this section, but was determined to find it and the one at the top. I clipped some rappel slings around a stout bush, then slung a root, and, after two pitches, found the one bolted belay. I slapped the Micro on it and moved upwards. The comments on MP.com said to go straight above this belay for 140 feet to the next anchor. Upon review of the topo, it shows the pitch to ascend at an 11-o’clock angle and this is correct, but I went straight. I found nothing, just like last time, but I knew where the following 5.8 pitch ended and worked down from that and spotted a bolt to my left. I traversed hard, clipped it, and continued up into that pitch. I never saw the anchors, but Derek found it on his way up.
I’d put four pitches together and we were now atop the 18th pitch — just where we were forced to turn around last time. My feet were killing me and I stripped off my shoes while Derek followed. When he arrived we took stock. It had taken us 5 hours to rappel from here before, but we had five more pitches to climb still and it was 2:30 p.m. Derek prudently thought we should start our descent by 4 p.m. given it would be dark at 9 p.m. and we had no headlamps. I figured, foolishly given previous data, we could do the descent in 3 hours, even though it involved five additional rappels! I guessed it would take until 5 p.m. to make the top, though, and would give us an extra hour to play with.
Derek wasn’t feeling as confident as I, so I took the next lead, the crux 10c pitch. I climbed with an urgency, committing to moves quickly. This assertive climbing helped me, as it saved my strength and I made the right decisions on each move. Until I didn’t. Near the top of the pitch, with no handholds above me, I committed to a very insecure mantle, struggling to get my left foot on a high, good edge. My right foot slipped and down I went. Derek gave me an expert catch and with more than 100 feet of rope out, it was a soft catch and a short fall. I got it on my next try, but then was stymied by an even smoother section, which I’m sure is the crux move. After a minute of consternation, I stepped on a bolt hanger and was through it.
I missed the traverse at the top of this pitch and had to link it into the next 5.7 pitch. I didn’t think I’d have the draws for this, but by missing a clip on both pitches, I just was able to combine them. The next pitch was the last 5.10 pitch and 180 feet long. It ascends a chimney-like flare that I climbed via lots of fun stemming. Again I was so impressed with Derek carrying the pack up these, but I was about to be even more impressed.
When Derek arrived I asked him about the next pitch and he said, “I feel I should lead it.” I got that completely and encouraged him. He led off…with the pack still on his back! I noticed this and he clipped the pack into the first bolt. He then cruised up the pitch and was off belay 30 feet earlier than I expected. I started up, thinking it would be like the lower, easy 5.8, and picked up the pack. Above, in multiple locations, I barely hung on. It felt like another 5.10 pitch. Which made me wonder what the 5.10 pitches felt like with the pack.
Derek was at the penultimate belay with just a 5.9 pitch to go. I took the sharp end for the final pitch. Either the ratings are stiffer at the end of this route or I was getting tired, because I found this pitch quite hard as well. I inched up slowly and steadily, aware of the time slipping away.
It felt great to finally finish this climb and soon Derek joined me. We took some summit photos and we changed shoes for the descent. It was 5 p.m. As we prepared for our first simu-rappel (of 22 total — we combined one), we told each other no mistakes. We knotted the ends of both ropes for every rappel. We knew Brad Gobright had died simul-rappelling for failure to knot the ends. We communicated constantly even though we were right next to each other for the entirety of the 3.5-hour descent. It went smoothly. There was one rappel in the runout section, where my 60-meter rope didn’t reach, but Derek was able to make the anchor on the 70-meter line. Once he was clipped in. I tied a knot in his rope, clipped it to myself, and he belayed me as I downclimbed the 5.2 section to the belay.
Once on the ground, we were relieved to finally take off our harnesses. Our hips were a bit sore after weighting our harnesses for most of 3.5 hours. Derek offered to take both ropes on the way down to spare my ankle and I was thankful for it. We now had one headlamp, but just barely made the car before needing it, arriving there at 9:15 p.m.
What a cool adventure! Most of the climbing is great fun and the crux pitches are excellent! Really thoughtful climbing with great protection. The “rotten zone” is a problem, both on the way up and down, as many others have noted, but for a Minion, this isn’t that big of a deal. And if you have two 70-meter ropes you don’t have to do any shenanigans on the descent.
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