Part 3
We had a leisurely breakfast and by mid to late morning were ready to venture forth. We hiked up into Indian Basin proper and then scrambled up a small peak that was about 3500 metres. Great views were to be had of the entire basin and of the peaks we were hoping to climb. Kevin was feeling fit as a fiddle and I felt I needed to stretch my legs some more so he and I opted to scramble up the next little peak over which was 3650 metres (although the altimeter on the GPS indicated 3660 metres which would make it just a tad over 12,000‟) We felt great, and actually traversed the peak and descended the opposite side and hooked up with the Indian Pass trail to make our way back. Diane, Andrew, and Bill lingered on the first summit and we met up with them on the hike down.
Whilst we were romping over hill and dale, Renee was trying to get some kip in the tent back at camp. She was rudely awakened by someone calling to her from outside the tent. She got up, and went outside only to be greeted by a strange man with an axe…. Upon closer inspection she sees a badge and uniform… Yogi.., its Ranger Smith. Well, actually it was Ranger Patrick, and our camp was indeed located too close to the trail as we had suspected it might be. Renee explained that we got in late the previous night and offered our apologies, and told him that we would relocate once our group got back. It seems that Ranger Patrick maybe wanted to linger a bit as well, and spent some time talking to Renee before he finally left for other manly ‘rangerin’ business. (I think she was secretly pining for his return the whole trip)
But this meant of course that we had to move. With only a little effort we found a new spot that actually ended up being a better location. It was further from water, and further to a latrine site. However it had some ledges to act as counters to set the stoves on, flat rocks for lounging on, or doing Yoga, grassy meadows, bouldering, and of course amazing views. It remained our base of operations for the remainder of our time in the Winds.
Camp 2
Finally we get to some climbing
The next day we made out for our first true climbing objective; that being the east ridge of Elephant Head. It was a simple approach via trails, open meadows, and some easy talus. From the col with Harrower it was a pleasant, but all too short low class four climb. We roped up and sort of simul-climbed the whole thing. The summit is a broad flat plateau and was the only place on the entire trip I was able to get mobile phone service at.
Although descending the route would have been enjoyable, we chose a loose class three gully on the south side, and in almost no time at all we were back at the col, and spent the next hour or so soaking up the sun like a bunch of happy marmots. Bill and Andrew took the southern route back to camp, thus circumnavigating the peak, while the rest of us retraced our steps.
Roping up on Elephant Head
Everyone was feeling pretty chuffed about the climb and were feeling less of the effects of the altitude. It was from my perspective that we made the one logistical error of the trip somewhere around here.
We decided that the next day that we should climb Fremont. It is mostly a slog, with some minor third class near the summit, but it is a big day, and tops out at 4190 metres. It was a fine outing, and there were a variety of other folks en route. Two parties are worth mentioning here however. The first were two young guys who blew past us early down on the scree slopes that led up to the shoulder. They had large packs and were just motoring. We figured that they were off to do some bad-ass technical climb. Turns out, that wasn’t the case at all. They were just a couple of young preppies from Boston, who blew their loads early on in the game. As we passed them higher up, I didn’t miss the opportunity to make some offhand comments, about them being in “pretty good shape for some young fellas”. They replied in kind and rather respectfully about our conditioning. The other interesting party was a solo 72 year old man who made it to the summit.
The view from the summit of Fremont
It was a very long descent and I was totally knackered by the time we dragged our asses back into camp. This is where the logistical error became apparent. Some of us (well, I was for sure) were in need of a rest day at this point, and tomorrow would have to be that day. This of course only left us with one other day to actually climb, because the day after that was our departure. By this point in the trip I think that it was only Andrew and I that still had our sights somewhat seriously set on the North Ridge of Harrower. The catch was that it was a fairly big and complex undertaking. The approach was simple enough, but the climb itself was twelve pitches of mostly continuous 5.6 and involved a tricky and unknown class four descent. There were a lot of variables that made us believe that it would be a very long day with a reasonable chance for various problems to arise. We felt that we were too shagged to try it the next day, yet felt that the next day was too close to our departure day; if either anything went wrong, or we were too exhausted to make the hike out. I can’t speak for Andrew, but maybe in retrospect, our hearts were not in it
That evening a funny little event happened. Although, I was beat by the time I made it back from Fremont, stumbling into camp well after the others, I stopped to say hello to our neighbours. Turned out they were three Russian guys who currently resided in various U.S. cities. One was a ‘current’ climber from Chicago, while the other two hadn’t climbed in many years. They invited me for tea, and we exchanged pleasantries. Then I said “dasveedAnja‟ and walked up to our camp. Whilst we were having another fine boil in the bag gourmet meal, our Chicago comrade climber sauntered into our camp. After swapping lies for a bit he suggested that we combine as a team to climb the north ridge of Harrower. As Andrew came and said to me later….” How do you feel about climbing with a stranger who doesn’t speak English, and whose partners haven’t climbed in thirty years, and don’t even have climbing shoes?… on belayski comrade…” My answer of course was a resounding nyet! We were sort of noncommittal, and I guess he sort of got that, because nothing more came of it. In the end I got some grief from our team for getting us involved with the Russians in the first place.
Some of us did take the following day as a rest day, and Diane, Andrew, and I had a nice sleep in, and later hiked up into Titcomb Basin, to enjoy the views and take pictures, and discuss our favourite moving pictures. Renee and Kevin on the other hand decided to take the Friday before our hike out as their rest day and constructively used the Thursday to climb Jackson. They hadn’t left camp more than half an hour and Bills itchy feet got better of him, and he took off after them. They came back into camp in mid-afternoon laughing and joking and with ear to ear grins, having had a blast on the climb which they polished off in fine fashion.
Happy Day on Jackson
(photo by KD)
Andrew and I had been discussing what to do for a consolation climb, now that we had decided to abandon any attempt on Harrower. We wanted to at least get another “technical” climb in. “Hear the snap of a karabiner” as Andrew put it. We chose one of the non-committing routes on Elephant Head. At least we had the approach and descent wired. We decided upon the North Ridge, which was supposed to offer up a few leads of 5.2 to 5.6, albeit with some route finding challenges. I think we may have started the route a bit too high, but nonetheless it was a fun climb. We geared up and simul-climbed several nice pitches, before we had to stop and set up a simple belay for the best pitch on the climb, which Andrew dispatched with ease. At the top of that pitch we swapped leads and I did the next short pitch to where the angle eased and we were on top. Not too shabby for a couple of geezers.
The money pitch
We had taken only about two and a half hours from camp to summit. I think that we both may have been thinking that we probably could have gone for Harrower that day after all. We were back in camp by 1:00 and soon after the others returned from their own excursion up Titcomb Basin. Our last afternoon was spent lazing around soaking up the last bit of idyllic scenery and sun, before we had to face the chore of packing out the following day. For dinner Andrew finally broke into his clam chowder which was lusted after by all, and his pineapple chunks which were generously shared.
Stayed posted for the conclusion….