A Mt Baldy Climb, 31 Jan 2010
Posted: Mon Feb 01, 2010 8:21 am
Work kept me out of the mountains since the Big Snow came, but I finally got away Sunday.
I arrived at Wanker Flats about 6:00am, and since I had already prepared my boots and everything at home before I left, all I had to do was slap on the gaiters and move out. It was expected to be a beautiful day, and I was surprised there were only a few cars at the San Antonio Falls Road when I got there.
The most treacherous part of the whole day was the walk up the icy road where it had been plowed. I tried to keep to the side where there was snow, but the drainage culverts kept getting in the way. I fell once on my knee.
Finally I encountered a guy coming down in the dark (WTF?) and I asked him whether the snow started anytime soon. He said it started just around the bend, but he recommended crampons in any case. So I stopped and put on my crampons, almost at the start of the climb.
My feet started hurting almost immediately, blisters forming on the heels. These boots are still sort of new, and my local drug store no longer carries moleskin since it has been taken over by CVS. All the other useless disposable cheap crap you can imagine, they have that, but no moleskin. I decided to get as far as the ski hut and see how I felt.
There was no more of that beautiful rime ice you guys got to see last week, except for bits of it high in the trees around the ski hut. When I got to the ski hut around 8:00, I was careful to keep my helmet on and moved away from the trees. The trees began shedding ice as soon as they were touched by the sun.
There weren't many people on the mountain yesterday, at least not so early in the morning. For my part, it was about as late a start as I would ever want to make, as the snow got pretty bad in the afternoon (more later). The earlier you are on and off the mountain the better.
I removed my crampons and gaiters and tightened both of my boots. This reduced circulation a little and made my feet colder, but my heels were no longer moving as much in the boots. I took a couple of Aleves and decided to forge on.
So after a snack I continued along the old trail, up the ridge:
The route was almost deserted. I met a couple of guys coming down who had spent a pleasant night at the summit, and passed two guys, Ernie and Will, who were carrying skis to the top.
The day was fantastic, warmer than I had expected with no wind, and the snow was crunchy and consolidated, easy to walk on with crampons. My feet still hurt and I was breathing hard (I hadn't done any real climbing since November), but I was alone in a snowbound wilderness of sparking beauty. As I hiked up the ridge from the 9,000 foot crest, I remember feeling a terrific sense of thanksgiving, to Travis and Taco who set up this board, without which I may never have considered winter mountaineering, and to Fritz, who first escorted me on a winter Baldy climb two years ago. I just felt like a million bucks, and a sense of cheerful fulfillment stayed with me for the rest of the day.
As I came to the final slope before the summit, I encountered the last of the rime-ice encrusted trees:
At this point in the climb the air was full of the sounds of ice falling from the trees, from every direction. It was a strange feeling, all this random noise when you knew you were quite alone up there.
The path skirted the trees for the most part, passing between two of them once. The snow was dry and firm just below the summit, easy to walk on. On the consolidated areas, you walked on the top of the snow in your crampons, your boots not even touching. Then there were drifted areas where you could see earlier climbers had sunk up to their knees, but I would only drop a few inches into the snow. It was very easy going.
When I got to the top at about 10:00, only Dave and Joe, a couple of guys I met at the ski hut, were there (they had climbed up the bowl). They were hunkered down behind a snow shelter. Though it was windless and warm on the way up, the summit itself was frigid and windy. When Dave and Joe started back down, I took their places behind the snow shelter and had another snack.
On my way back down, I ran into Shin coming up. This was his 179th Baldy summit climb. He was with Hamid, who was completing his 300th Baldy summit climb. We were joined by Cindy, whom I don't think I have ever met before, but who is scheduled to climb Everest later this year.
Just about every time I climb Baldy I meet someone I know. Small world up there.
I did not encountered the expected mule train of climbers coming up the trail as I descended, but as I came back down the ridge I ran into many skiers.
I had never before seen so many skiers up there, and indeed this was the first time I'd seen anyone skinning up, something I had assumed was impossible due to the steepness of the climb. There seemed to be more skiers than climbers, and at least half of the skiers were skinning up.
I also saw one couple trying to get up the ridge in snowshoes. It was very hard going for them, very slow. It was all I could do to refrain from suggesting they stow the snowshoes, but I try to mind my own business.
As I crossed the bottom of the bowl I looked up and realized where all the climbers had gotten to.
That photo was taken at 11:34. The snow at the ski hut was already getting pretty wet and slushy by that time. Those guys were probably having a pretty tough time getting up that slope, and would have an even harder time getting back down. Why do people get such late starts?
I stopped at the ski hut to remove my crampons and eat a few walnuts. The hike down was really unpleasant. The snow was slippery as snot and I fell at least three times. It was far more treacherous getting down the trail below the ski hut than any other part of the climb (except for the pre-dawn walk on the icy asphalt). But I remained in good spirits and it seemed that nothing could ruin my day.
Incredibly, people were still coming up the trail, though not very many of them.
Approaching the register, I began to hear the noises coming up from Wanker Flats, mostly the joyous screaming of children sledding and throwing snowballs. It was louder than Disneyland. I think those kids were having more fun than they have at Disneyland. It was life-affirming. I had my fun for the day and they were having theirs, thousands of them, with simple, low-impact pleasures.
My feet hurt somewhat but nothing could dampen my spirits. The parking area was a zoo, of course, with cars circling around like vultures seeking a place to park. When I got to my car, it was double-parked by a minivan with a woman and her young daughter. I asked her if she wanted my space. She circled around behind my car and I scooted into the traffic ahead of her.
After a ginger ale at the Buckhorn Lodge, I headed home.
Moar photos: http://www.flickr.com/photos/simonov/se ... 35/detail/
I arrived at Wanker Flats about 6:00am, and since I had already prepared my boots and everything at home before I left, all I had to do was slap on the gaiters and move out. It was expected to be a beautiful day, and I was surprised there were only a few cars at the San Antonio Falls Road when I got there.
The most treacherous part of the whole day was the walk up the icy road where it had been plowed. I tried to keep to the side where there was snow, but the drainage culverts kept getting in the way. I fell once on my knee.
Finally I encountered a guy coming down in the dark (WTF?) and I asked him whether the snow started anytime soon. He said it started just around the bend, but he recommended crampons in any case. So I stopped and put on my crampons, almost at the start of the climb.
My feet started hurting almost immediately, blisters forming on the heels. These boots are still sort of new, and my local drug store no longer carries moleskin since it has been taken over by CVS. All the other useless disposable cheap crap you can imagine, they have that, but no moleskin. I decided to get as far as the ski hut and see how I felt.
There was no more of that beautiful rime ice you guys got to see last week, except for bits of it high in the trees around the ski hut. When I got to the ski hut around 8:00, I was careful to keep my helmet on and moved away from the trees. The trees began shedding ice as soon as they were touched by the sun.
There weren't many people on the mountain yesterday, at least not so early in the morning. For my part, it was about as late a start as I would ever want to make, as the snow got pretty bad in the afternoon (more later). The earlier you are on and off the mountain the better.
I removed my crampons and gaiters and tightened both of my boots. This reduced circulation a little and made my feet colder, but my heels were no longer moving as much in the boots. I took a couple of Aleves and decided to forge on.
So after a snack I continued along the old trail, up the ridge:
The route was almost deserted. I met a couple of guys coming down who had spent a pleasant night at the summit, and passed two guys, Ernie and Will, who were carrying skis to the top.
The day was fantastic, warmer than I had expected with no wind, and the snow was crunchy and consolidated, easy to walk on with crampons. My feet still hurt and I was breathing hard (I hadn't done any real climbing since November), but I was alone in a snowbound wilderness of sparking beauty. As I hiked up the ridge from the 9,000 foot crest, I remember feeling a terrific sense of thanksgiving, to Travis and Taco who set up this board, without which I may never have considered winter mountaineering, and to Fritz, who first escorted me on a winter Baldy climb two years ago. I just felt like a million bucks, and a sense of cheerful fulfillment stayed with me for the rest of the day.
As I came to the final slope before the summit, I encountered the last of the rime-ice encrusted trees:
At this point in the climb the air was full of the sounds of ice falling from the trees, from every direction. It was a strange feeling, all this random noise when you knew you were quite alone up there.
The path skirted the trees for the most part, passing between two of them once. The snow was dry and firm just below the summit, easy to walk on. On the consolidated areas, you walked on the top of the snow in your crampons, your boots not even touching. Then there were drifted areas where you could see earlier climbers had sunk up to their knees, but I would only drop a few inches into the snow. It was very easy going.
When I got to the top at about 10:00, only Dave and Joe, a couple of guys I met at the ski hut, were there (they had climbed up the bowl). They were hunkered down behind a snow shelter. Though it was windless and warm on the way up, the summit itself was frigid and windy. When Dave and Joe started back down, I took their places behind the snow shelter and had another snack.
On my way back down, I ran into Shin coming up. This was his 179th Baldy summit climb. He was with Hamid, who was completing his 300th Baldy summit climb. We were joined by Cindy, whom I don't think I have ever met before, but who is scheduled to climb Everest later this year.
Just about every time I climb Baldy I meet someone I know. Small world up there.
I did not encountered the expected mule train of climbers coming up the trail as I descended, but as I came back down the ridge I ran into many skiers.
I had never before seen so many skiers up there, and indeed this was the first time I'd seen anyone skinning up, something I had assumed was impossible due to the steepness of the climb. There seemed to be more skiers than climbers, and at least half of the skiers were skinning up.
I also saw one couple trying to get up the ridge in snowshoes. It was very hard going for them, very slow. It was all I could do to refrain from suggesting they stow the snowshoes, but I try to mind my own business.
As I crossed the bottom of the bowl I looked up and realized where all the climbers had gotten to.
That photo was taken at 11:34. The snow at the ski hut was already getting pretty wet and slushy by that time. Those guys were probably having a pretty tough time getting up that slope, and would have an even harder time getting back down. Why do people get such late starts?
I stopped at the ski hut to remove my crampons and eat a few walnuts. The hike down was really unpleasant. The snow was slippery as snot and I fell at least three times. It was far more treacherous getting down the trail below the ski hut than any other part of the climb (except for the pre-dawn walk on the icy asphalt). But I remained in good spirits and it seemed that nothing could ruin my day.
Incredibly, people were still coming up the trail, though not very many of them.
Approaching the register, I began to hear the noises coming up from Wanker Flats, mostly the joyous screaming of children sledding and throwing snowballs. It was louder than Disneyland. I think those kids were having more fun than they have at Disneyland. It was life-affirming. I had my fun for the day and they were having theirs, thousands of them, with simple, low-impact pleasures.
My feet hurt somewhat but nothing could dampen my spirits. The parking area was a zoo, of course, with cars circling around like vultures seeking a place to park. When I got to my car, it was double-parked by a minivan with a woman and her young daughter. I asked her if she wanted my space. She circled around behind my car and I scooted into the traffic ahead of her.
After a ginger ale at the Buckhorn Lodge, I headed home.
Moar photos: http://www.flickr.com/photos/simonov/se ... 35/detail/
