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Team members:

Collin MacLeod
Jade Ajani
Tim Donovan
Jon Myers
Zack Mills
Issac “Ivan” Vazquez

Day 1. Oct. 23rd.

We arrived at the Snow Creek/Snow Lakes trailhead outside the Bavarian themed village of Leavenworth, WA around 10 am. The rain was pouring out of the sky as we scrambled to put our packs together and organize gear. Collin, in his over-sized flowing poncho, and I were packed for a 5 to 6 day excursion (lots of food), plus I was carrying some climbing equipment. It was definitely one of the heaviest packs I’ve carried in a long time. The team pounded a mango-flavored Venom energy drink, the last of our free sample supply that Tim and I acquired at Star Wars In Concert earlier in the month.

The hike began with a series of fairly steep switchbacks that left us shedding layers within 10 minutes. The rain eased to a light mist and the temperature was favorable as we wound our way up Snow Creek into the anomalous granite uplands known variously as the Enchantment Lakes and the Cashmere Crags. Lunch was had in the sun at Nada Lake, with fine views of the snow dusted crags up the valley. Ivan used his druid styles to command the local fauna.

The team made camp after about 7 miles at the upper of the two Snow Lakes, keeping us at a reasonable altitude of 5400 ft., while still giving us decent access to the 7000 ft. upper basin and the peaks that tower above. Late October is an unbelievably magical time to visit this area. The magnificent alpine larch stands, shining bright and golden against the vast slabs and peaks of snow-dusted granite and blue lakes, give the area a stark and unique beauty.

Our crew celebrated with liquor and quality smoke. To all of our bafflement, Ivan broke out a grip of rum and a can of Coke. That is known as Good Style.

Day 2. Oct. 24th
Tim, Jon and I awoke to clear blue skies and the enchanting call of Prusik Peak. Our goal was a fun outing on the West Ridge route, an aesthetic and ultra classic 5 pitch 5.7 on pristine solid alpine granite. I had a minimal breakfast of yogurt pretzels, salmon jerky and coffee and then Venom Squad was off. Collin, Zack and Ivan were chillers at Baze Camp for the morning, planning to set off for the upper basin on a day hike a bit later. Venom Squad took one radio, Baze Camp the other. The approach hike was gorgeous, albeit longer and more arduous than expected.

We were treated to many exceptional views by the time we reached the base of Prusik. The wind was ferociously out-of-control as we hurriedly organized our gear for the ascent. I opted to wear my climbing slippers with wool socks and for some reason I decided, unlike Jon and Tim, to not take along my warm boots to wear at the belays. I think we all felt a bit harried by the frigid wind and our somewhat late start. Belayed by Tim, I set off up the first ‘pitch’, which turned out to actually be part of the approach. Tim and Jon followed me up and we huddled out of the wind under the large balanced boulder that indicates the true beginning of the route. Sky was spectacularly blue and clear, the temperature with wind chill was doubtfully much above freezing.

I set off on the actual first pitch which leads up to the West Ridge. It consisted of fun low-5th class climbing on snow covered ledges with good protection. I belayed Tim and Jon up. At this point, my feet were already starting to get cold from the arctic wind pouring off the plateau. Tim set off on the second pitch, beginning the ridge traverse.

“For fucks sake, hurry up you bastard.” I thought, as I began to shiver. I stuck my feet under Jon’s ass to help keep them warm. Not that helpful.
Because of the unrelenting wind and meandering terrain Tim and I had difficulty communicating that he was done with the pitch and off belay and that I could begin climbing. More waiting. Fuck its cold. I finally climb pitch two. Short and sweet. My feet are SO cold. I bust them out of of my climbing shoes and into Tim’s extra boots (he is wearing his climbing shoes). My right foot feels like its in a fire as the feeling begins to return. Excruciating. I offered the next lead to Tim, feeling like my feet weren’t ready. He took off into the unknown, quickly arriving at a tricky unprotected 5.7 slab, the crux of the route. He has to take of his gloves, gasp! But wait, what’s this? The wind has almost completely abated returning the temperature to a balmy 40+ degrees. Tim dominated the slab with no problems. Before I knew it Jon and I were at the belay, feeling good.

We get radio contact from Baze Camp. They are having a leisurely hike in the upper basin. Apparently they had some close encounters with a host of gnarled goats. More druidism.

My turn to lead. I took off on pitch four, a wonderfully exposed traverse that brings us to the base of the final wall to the summit. Hmm, my left foot doesn’t feel cold anymore. As a matter of fact it doesn’t feel much of anything at all. That’s nice. Right foot is feeling a little better, no more burning at least. Tim and Jon come over at a good clip.

I lead the final pitch. Exceptionally fun 5.6 crack, made slightly challenging by the cold and lack of feeling in my feet. Surmounting the final obstacle to the summit, a 15 ft. squeeze chimney, was supremely satisfying. Sick views! I belayed Tim up.

The shadows were starting to get longer.
“Dude, we have like 20 minutes before that sun dips behind the ridge,” Tim says with a mild hint of worry.”
“Jon,” I holler,  “I am not trying to be a dick, but could you please try to climb as fast as possible. We are running out of light.”
Jon: “I am climbing as fast as I can.” Tim and I listen to his extreme exertions from the summit as he surmounts a challenging flake. Then he was up and through the chimney in a jiffy. Venom Squad up on dat summit, all.

We share a summit smeaze and enjoy tremendous views of the lake-dotted upper basin covered in gleaming golden larches. I ponder the aesthetics of the gentle and attractive south slope of Little Annapurna and look in awe at the fierce pinnacles, spires and needles of snowy McClellan Peak lording over the plateau. To the north and west is the nub of Enchantment Peak and the vast Lost World Plateau punctuated by Shield Lake. To the east we see a forest of granite spires, the formidable Temple Ridge, and far below that, our camp at Snow Lake.


Sunset. So begins the descent and so begins the struggle. Time to start rappelling. We join the ropes and drop off the north face onto a large snow covered ledge. We try our hardest, but cannot for the life of us pull our ropes down. The knot must be caught. Fuck!
“What’s the plan now,” asks Tim.
“Shit!” I reply, “Fuck it dude, gotta go back up and fix it.”
I threw a prusik knot on one of the ropes for safety and began to climb back to the summit on the north face, an appropriate method of ascent given the name of the peak. It was actually some pretty quality climbing, but my toes were literally frozen, I was fatigued and the light was quickly waning. I tried to maintain composure and not get cranky, as that would be Bad Style.

I pulled onto the summit. The knot appeares to not be stuck. Why wont it pull? The way the anchor is set seems to cause an unusual amount of friction on the ropes making it nearly impossible to pull. Well that sucks a lot. While pondering what to do, I heard some voices very close. Coming from the south face perhaps? I peered over the edge and see a fellow 10 ft. below, leading the final pitch of a south face route.
“Hey man, you have any extra pieces?” he asks.
“Just these two little guys,” says I. They are Tim’s green and purple Link Cams.
“I really wish I had a bigger piece right now,” he says as he cautiously struggles up the wide crack to the summit on a decent runout. I quickly explain that I would like him to aid me in getting our ropes down to us after I make the first rappel down the north face.
“Sure,” he replies “but can I borrow those two cams to set up a belay and bring up my second. I am totally out of gear.”
I gave him the gear and we worked out that we would meet up at the western notch of the peak between the north and south sides, known as Prusik Pass, to retrieve our gear. I rappelled back down to Tim and Jon and explained the situation. Darkness was nearly upon us. I fucked up. I forgot my headlamp in my pack at the base of the climb. Jon fucked up worse and forgot his headlamp altogether, leaving it all the way back at Baze Camp. Thankfully, we had Tim’s incredibly versatile and strong Mamut torch. Still only one light for three people. Our next rappel was back on the West Ridge, so we had to traverse along easy ground on the north face to reach the anchor. Trying to take advantage of the last bits of daylight, Jon and I set out on the snowy traverse, leaving Tim to wait and collect the ropes once are new homies dropped them down. Radio contact with Baze Camp:
“Yeah brah,” I reply to Ivan, “we’re running a bit behind schedule. We’ll probably be back in like 2 hours though. No worries.” Jon and I wait. Temperature is dropping. Oh, we were rapidly becoming chilly boiz. Tim finally comes over. I lead the mini-traverse pitch over to the anchor using Tim’s lamp and then belaying him over. I started setting up the rap while he brought Jon over. Four long rappels and at least an hour and a half later we are at the bottom of the north face standing in a snowfield in the dark. I am still wearing my climbing shoes. There is absolutely no feeling in any of my toes. No pain, just the faintest sense of cold, but that could have just been the ol’ brain helping me understand that I was standing in snow and not having actual sensations. Wow! I haven’t had anything to eat since we left camp 12 hours ago. Feeling a bit sluggish. I downed my Red Bull energy shooter to snap my head back in the game.

Back at my pack stowed at Prusik Pass, I finally got out of my slippers and into my boots. So nice. Ate a frozen Snickers. I put on my headlamp, ready for action.  At that point we all felt pretty relieved to be off the mountain and on more or less horizontal ground. We set off on our hike with glee, chatting over the lessons learned on this outing. Within about 30 minutes we were off route and more or less lost in an infinity of granite slabs, boulders, moist drainages and thick stands of trees. The going was exceptionally slow because Jon had no light. Tim or I took turns walking ahead of Jon and turning around every 10 ft. to shine the light for him. Where are we? Is that the right-hand lake down there or the left? So much bushwhacking and confusion. After about 2 plus hours of this suffering and hilarity, with Jon at ‘his wits end’,  I stumbled out on a trail.
“Shit, this is a trail!” I exclaimed. “Fuck my ass, this is the trail.” One quick break to take our medicine and we were on our way, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as ever. We arrived back in camp at 1:30 am, 15 hours since we left camp. Epic, but at least we didn’t have to bivouac in the woods.

Now, you might be wondering: what ever happened to those cams we lent out to those dudes? A value of about $140, not something you just give away. Flashback to Prusik Pass while we were getting ourselves in order for the walk back to camp. In our tired state and anxious to return to camp, we basically blew off waiting for the other fellas to meet up with us and return the cams. It had been dark for a while and they were still rappelling down the north face somewhere. We just didn’t want to wait in the cold anymore. However, I had made a plan B with them that consisted of them dropping the cams off at our camp, which they had seen on their way in. Tim left them a little message on the trail. They never showed up.

Day 3. Oct. 25h

Zack, Ivan, Jon and Tim departed camp around 10am to return to their respective homes. By  exceptional luck or good karma, Ivan happened to spot the missing cams sitting on the side of trail during their hike out. Bizarre! Awesome! They must have missed our camp in the dark the night before. But such an odd decision to leave them on the ground by the trail. Whatevs, Tim got his gear.

Collin and I had a CHILL OUT day to the max. Did nothing but eat, smoke, drink, read and sleep.  Even after a long warm sleep, my two big toes continued to feel numb. The rain returned.

Day 4. Oct. 26th

Mild snow flurries. Colder. Collin and I had some quality time exploring the mudlands near camp, where the water level had precipitously dropped around Snow Lake. We built the Omega Dam in one of the streams that had cut a 4 ft. deep canyon in the mud and clay. We spent most of the day building dams and sculpting canyons with the flowing water. We found literally endless entertainment in these fast-forward experiments/games in hydrology. Mellow and beautiful day, if not a bit cold. More snow. My toes are warm to the touch, but still with a lingering numbness on the surface.

Day 5. Oct. 27th

Collin and I awoke to a few inches dry snow on the ground. The eponymous Snow Lake living up to its reputation. There was too much snow to get into the upper basin for more exploring and we’d had enough days surveying Baze Camp so we made the call to pack up and hike out. The going was pretty slow on the steep sections of trail newly covered in snow. We had the good fortune of watching a pine marten with prey in its mouth scrambling through the snowy trees, as adept at tree climbing as any squirrel. The first marten I’ve ever seen in the wild. Wonderful. We were also able to perceive the formerly-hidden comings and goings of all manner of creatures, observing their tracks through the snows. As of this post, my big toes still feel dull with a persistent surface numbness. Acupuncture seems to help. Frostnip makes a good souvenir from an exceptional trip. Maybe the best of the season?