Mt. Baker, Boulder-Park Cleaver
August 6-7, 2005
The Hummels and I hiked in Saturday evening. After sleeping on the moraine below the cliff leading to the cleaver, we were joined by Hannah and her friend Seth the next morning. We hiked up the lower, snow-free part of the cleaver, and continued up the snow. At the top of the cleaver we donned crampons to facilitate avoiding a suspect snowbridge. The others were kind enough to wait for my slow ass below the headwall. Seth kicked steps up the headwall, and we followed. The snow was miserable for skiing, hard ice crust below slush. On the lower headwall the snow was runnelled and suncupped. My aspirations for skiing the headwall would have to wait for another day.
We topped out to a windy and cold summit. We didn't stick around long. I asked Seth if he was going to ski the headwall.
"Hell no!"
I concurred, knowing that it would involve a thousand feet of sidestepping.
Summit self-portrait.
The Hummels insisted on skiing the headwall, primarily so Sky can't continue talking smack about their lousy track record on this route. I decided to join Seth and Hannah in skiing the top of the Boulder back to the cleaver. The Hummels dropped in, and we headed to the other side of the summit, where we skied lots of nice corn, found a bunch of crevasses, and crossed a ridge of scree to a schrund crossing that put us below the headwall. The Hummels were there, having enjoyed their sidestepping.
Seth off the top.
Hannah on the Boulder
The Hummels' tracks on the Headwall. Nice sideslipping, guys. (Josh photo)
We had to cross a boulder field to get to clean snow, so we popped off our skis and walked over. In the process of doing so, Hannah's ski made a successful bid for freedom. Anchored to his TeleDaddies, I lowered Seth into the crevasse, where he barely managed to snag the rogue TM:11 by the hole in its tip. He climbed out to reunite the ski with its beaming owner.
Negotiating the crevasses above the cleaver was really fun. A quick straightline and hop over a collapsing snowbridge brought us to the miles of cruiser terrain below. Hannah opted to downclimb the hop, and we regrouped on the cleaver. Now we had 3500 feet of perfect snow, no crevasses, and a moderate angle. Time to open it up. I was in heaven. Continuous 30 mph GS carves followed by uncontrolled gibbering brought us down quickly. I don't think I've ever had so much fun in the mountains.
Josh and my tracks. So good!
Josh again. I'm the little tiny speck near the rocks. This was so fun! (Jason photo)
Me. Jason photo.
Jump around.
Jump around.
Jump up, jump up and get down.
Jump! Jump! Jump!
-House of Pain
Josh again, with my tracks.
Baker had been too generous, and decided that the little humans weren't allowed to have so much fun without consequences. The Hummels and I had forgotten about a small lip of snow that we had climbed up that morning, and were travelling at a speed suited to snow rather than air. They're the local Hugeairdawgs, but even the the Hummels are used to landing on snow. In the end we were all right, and we were even fairly mobile, though the mishap put a decided damper on our previously jubilant mood. So we downclimbed the rock, packed up our bivy gear, and hiked out, in the dark, with sweat dripping down our noses, and each with our personal cloud of bugs gathering around our headlamps. Snorting moths did little to improve my mood.
Oops.
In the end Josh caught the worst of it, though he was by no means the most vociferous about voicing his injuries. I was merely bruised, as I had been wearing my helmet, and my pack took a lot of impact. I think we all went to work the next day, though I made the concession of taking the bus rather than the bike.
What doesn't kill me merely postpones the inevitable.
Maybe I should take up a safer sport, like BASE jumping, or paragliding.
I stole half these photos from the Hummels. Read Jason's TR