Redemption: 6/23/07 - Mt. Stuart, West Ridge

Mount Stuart is a big mountain (9,415'), dominating the Alpine Lakes Wilderness, and the foundation stone of the Stuart Range in the heart of the Cascade Mountains of Washington State. Early mountaineer Claude E. Rusk called Mount Stuart a "mountain of thrills." (Beckey, 2000) Having been on the mountain three times, successfully summitting twice, I can attest to the veracity of Mr. Rusk's statement. John and I had history with the West Ridge of this mountain, and we decided it was time for some redemption.

In the Fall of 2005, after several routefinding errors, we found ourselves atop the West Horn and losing daylight. Given the time of day, we opted to descend the West Ridge Couloir; a blundering nightmare which culminated in an overhanging rappel into the September night's inky blackness. The deathmarch which followed pushed me beyond exhaustion, falling asleep each time we sat down for a break. Since then, John and I have talked about going back to climb the route and do it right. That time came on June 22nd, 2007.

We bivied with the masses at the Ingalls Lake Trailhead Friday night, ready for an early start. 0330, to be exact. We were on the trail by 0410. The trail was largely snow-free, with a mix of snow and rock from Ingalls Pass to the Lake. We cramponed around the edge of the frozen lake and found a hole for water on the far side. This was also a good spot to scope the gully we needed to enter to get on route.

At the base of the "second gully" (or, "first continuous gully" as some call it), we started cramponing up perfect styrofoam snow, negotiated a short rock step, and got back on snow for a while. After that, it was rock scrambling time until we got to the head of the gully and found our way into the next one, where we donned crampons again to traverse over near the base of Long John Tower. We couldn't see the supposed 4th Class route to the notch so, we scrambled up left of the big corner and then decided to rope up. John led across to the corner, discovered ice, came back and went up and then crossed above the iced-up corner and onto a flat bench. He belayed me over and then we cramponed up the rest of the gully to the notch behind LJT. We saw the "scissor feature" on the side of the West Horn and scrambled, unroped, up the gully and crossed over and turned the Horn.

I was feeling pretty happy that we were on-route; however, I hadn't been feeling well all morning and was moving slower than was ideal. I appreciated John's patience, and gave him pizza on the summit. Truth be told, my nerves had been haunting me since we left the car. I had not done muc climbing this Spring. I was pretty confident about my conditioning but, I knew that would only get me so far; the mental stress of the steep environment, the exposure, and the constant nagging doubts took a different kind of conditioning. I kept reminding myself that most of the climb was only 3rd & 4th Class, with some low- to mid-5th Class climbing - all well within my abilities. However, the creature within still picked at the tumor, that is doubt, as each chance arose.

We crossed a few more ribs and looked up to see a "notch", which I think we thought was Beckey's "tiny notch". We thought for a bit that we had accidentally done the Southside Bypass mentioned by Beckey, but realized a little later that we had indeed hit the W.R. notch. Thinking we were at the "tiny notch", I racked up and went up and right, thinking we would find the ledge which would lead us to the summit pitches (author's note: upon review of the route description, the direction I was headed would have put me on the Southside Bypass Variation). What I found was the point at which we should cross over to the North side of the Ridge; I brought John up. John racked up, crossed over and disappeared from sight.

Soon, he was off belay and I followed...oh, boy, that was interesting. This pitch nominated John for "scary move of the day": for me, this move entailed stepping down onto a 12"-wide ramp with no hands and walking across to two large blocks. Once I cleaned John's pro, I tried to figure out how he had climbed passed them (he told me that he had squeezed through sort of). I didn't see that and I ended up going out and around, hanging my ass out over the Stuart Glacier! I got to John, grabbed the rack and climbed a half-lead up to Beckey's "tiny notch"; there we dropped down, back onto the South side, and looked at out options. As John had said earlier in the morning, "the hardest part is there are so many options."

As we saw it, we could walk around on the ledge and go up, or we could find our way from where we were at (which Beckey says goes from 5.3-5.6). Given the time, and the proximity to the summit, we couldn't see the sense in traversing. John spied some good, blocky climbing so we decided to go up. John took the lead up a fun, interesting 5.4 corner to a ledge below another corner which had a slung block. I really didn't want to lead this pitch, but John was getting tired and I wanted to pull my weight. I passed the block and got into the corner, which was pretty crusted up with lichen. I voiced my lack of enthusiasm and John gave me the beta and encouragement I needed to pull the two-move wonder and get out of the corner (it was maybe 5.8). I moved up another 50', or so, and set a belay due to massive rope drag. John cleaned the gear and I got nominated for "hardest move of the day".

John meandered through the final blocks and reached the summit at 1800. We spent about 15 minutes on the summit, sharing pizza and water, transitioning into descent mode. I could not help reflecting on the fact that we had made it. On a certain level, it seemed a little surreal. How had we gotten so upside down during out last attempt? As I sat at 9,416' above sea level, I looked back on this climb and felt good about keeping the creature at bay. I had taken my pitches and pulled my weight.

The occasional cairn and bootprint led us towards the crossover into the Cascadian Couloir and onto the snow. After some initial crustiness, we got into some nice plungestepping snow and made good time. Unfortunately, where we needed to go there was no snow, bearing West into the lower part of the Cascadian. The snow did continue down the left fork, which appears to be "Variation No. 1" in the Beckey Guide. We decided to stay on the snow to make time and walk the extra distance on the Ingalls Creek Trail back up to the Long's Pass Trail. This proved to be the right thing to do. Again, finding the right bootprints and cairns took us down and out without a hitch! It was dusk under the trees, but we still had daylight.

The Long's Pass cutoff is clearly marked, the way across the creek is not. We did find a log crossing, just downstream, and then acquired the trail again and trudged off. I was feeling pretty beat by this time, but putting one foot in front of the other was working for me. We found and lost the trail several times before we broke out of the trees and onto the snow. We donned crampons and trudged up, up, up. The Pass appeared soon enough, and we started down.

I have had the "joy" of hiking down the Long's Pass & Ingalls Lake trails after dark, several times, and it gets longer every time. For the last quarter mile, I was having internal arguments about resting or going on. Make it we did, reaching the car at just about the stroke of midnight. 20 hours car-to-car, 9 hours on the route; certainly no record, but we did it...and found some redemption.