“Because of the rugged terrain, the Picket Range has remained the wildest and most unexplored region in the North Cascades. It is not an area for the wilderness novice; its isolated brushy valleys and jagged ridges are a test for the most seasoned mountaineers. The length of climbs, combined with steep mixed terrain and variable conditions, demands all-around competence and fitness.”
-Fred Beckey
PURE
Going into the alpine environment and having a successful outing, ie. you come back alive under your own provision, requires that you at least be able to get yourself out of the woods, and find your way home. Preferably with a reserve to draw from. Modern mountaineering pushes this to the limit, but even those operating at high levels of output are still prudent to heed that innate call to survive. The body will tell you when to eat, drink, get warm, or rest. Perhaps this is what Todd Hesse was alluding to after a particularly demanding day (or two) in the North Cascades when he made the statement, “I was close to being in trouble.”
We left Coeur d’Alene, Idaho the previous afternoon at 3:30 pm, and gained the trailhead outside Newhalem, Washington around nine that same night, elevation a little over 500 feet above sea level. By 9:30 pm we were on the trail, and, after 4 and 1/2 miles, reached a fine campsite at the confluence of Terror and Goodall crks, approximately 1500’. It was past midnight, according to my journal.
At the crack of dawn we were awake and heading up; immediately the gradient is severe. This is the N. Cascades. Endlessly up and up, at times little better than a brushy cliff, we suffered mightily on a very direct timbered ridge system. Occasionally the dark spires to the north would come into view, demanding attention. We encounter the first patch of snow around 5000’, approx, 9:30 am. Here we begin a long, arching, ascending traverse across varied terrain towards a notch in an obstacle ridge at roughly 6300’. After more than one rest stop, plus a gear stash, we reach the notch around 12:30. I am humbled by the rugged beauty as we pause briefly, perched on the very spine of the earth. Fuels of various kinds are procured and consumed. We then drop west into a snowy bowl to begin the long, descending traverse to the base of our route. The way is thoughtfully scaped with exposed stone and islands of scree positively littered with regional examples of alpine wildflowers. At 5550’ we rock-hop across the outlet of a high glacial tarn, and begin the ascent proper of McMillan Spires’ West Peak, 8000’+ above sea level. Our intended way up is the West ridge, a straightforward and technically easy route. It is 2:00 pm.
From the lake we climb boulders and glacial polished slabs up onto the fairly benign Terror Glacier before donning crampons and turning slightly north, heading for a bit of steep snow leading to the Inspiration-McMillan col at 7,280’. Just as we enter the final chute, approx. 40 degrees and somewhat narrow, I happen to look up just as a rather large rock dislodges itself from the ridge above and comes rolling and bounding down, straight at us. Realizing there was no time for a lengthy explanation, I simply said “Right side.” and began side stepping to my left. Climbing near me, Todd, without looking up, somehow grasped the urgency and immediately did likewise. After 10 or so steps both of us look up to see, and feel, the car sized stone go careening past, obliterating our up-track. That was close.
At the col we do a final triage of gear, and push our way up the last, rocky ridge to one of the best , ie. easiest views in the S. Pickets. It’s 3:30 pm; 9 hours to get here. Twenty-four hours ago, we were just leaving Cd’A. We flop down, admiring Creation. Wow. An absolutely clear, sunny day. Warm and fairly windless. Off the E. side of the summit, one looks down into Azure Lake, just under 4000’ below us. To the west the summits of the Southern Pickets blend to form a serrated crest curving around to the north, the resulting cirque becoming the very headwaters of the mighty McMillan Creek. All about me the sudden proximity of peaks and ridges competes with the dramatic local relief.
The isolation is now complete. We’ve come a very long ways with a minimum of stuff, and most of that is spread out over our approach route. We need to get moving. It’d be nice to get below that dirty steep nasty section before dark. By 4 o’clock we were off, rock hopping down the ridge. At the top of the chute we grabbed a couple of big flat rocks for sleds and slid, at times literally out of control, down and out onto the lower angled section of the glacier. And then back below the tarn, and now the gradual ascent into the snowy basin, and the steep climb to the notch. No. I wanted to be done with ascending...I want to be done with descending. But there is still a long ways to go. By 6:30 pm we’re beyond the notch at a gear stash around 5800’. I think I needed a rest here, or medication, or both; one knee was beginning to bother me. We barely made it down past the dirty steep nasty section before dark. And then the endless plunge through brush as we obtained the same ridge system used this morning, and headed straight down. By now we were exhausted but on we went, just wanting to be finished.
And now it is dark. When did that happen? And I notice that Todd is eating something; huckleberries, and I am as well. I don’t remember stopping. We nose through the bushes on our hands and knees, sniffing out the berries, really needing some nourishment. After a awhile,Todd's moving woke me with a start. “I’m leaving.” he said simply, and off he went. I looked at my watch. Fifteen minutes had passed. I thought about napping more. I thought about the furious storms that can rage through these mountains. I also thought about what bears do to lone hikers caught out late at night, asleep in the berry bushes… I heaved myself up and suffered on. Soon I found Todd and we began looking for camp; surely we were close now. After an indeterminable length of time I realized I was looking at old stumps in the beam of my light, cut stumps. And now I can smell the deep, rich thickness of moss and decay and I get the sense we’re near.
We tumbled into camp around 10:30 pm, completely and utterly spent. We had no food though plenty of water. Sleep would come but intermittently as our abused bodies would not rest properly. At one point I woke to Todd attempting to kill mice with his ice axe. I rolled a little farther away and drifted back off. It was during this time, around 2:00 am, that I heard him make his telling statement, “I was close to being in trouble.” And I knew what he meant.
We slept fitfully and woke hungry. We had one large can of mixed fruit just for this occasion, but no can opener. We padded barefoot down to the creek 100 yards back and hacked it open with an ice axe, dumping it into our hands and slurping copious amounts of fresh water along with the fruit. Shortly after, we packed up and left, feeling refreshed and satisfied with a pure mountain experience.
Note: In roughly 36 hours, (car to car), we traveled over 20 miles and, with all the ups and downs, accumulated at least 9000 vertical feet gain and loss, most of that being in an 18 hour window.
Scott Alan Lewis
8/12/02
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