Alex rolled into town on Friday, and commented on how good the Tetons had looked as he had driven
past. Since we had done all of the route research a few weeks before and then gotten skunked
because of new snow and sketchy conditions, we started thinking about how we could pull off a day
trip into Wyoming.
After doing some much needed modification to my crampons, waxing skis as warm as possible,
and organizing gear, we headed out of Bozeman at 1830. It was a little later than had I hoped, so
we had to speed a bit to get through the park in good time. We arrived at the Lupine Meadows
trailhead at 2215 on Sunday, and Alex rustled up some last-minute grub while I set out the sleeping
bags and repacked the ski packs. We were in bed by 2300, and he conked out right away. I was kept
up by excited thoughts of what we would find the next day, and another group rolling in at
midnight. I definitely won't forget the earplugs next time!
At 0130 four alarms went off (three were ours, one the party next to us) and we hopped out of
bed pretty quick. Hastily stuffing sleeping bags and tarps into the car and loading up skis and
boots on the bags got us out of the parking lot at exactly 0200. We walked for about 45 minutes
before the second party caught up with us and informed us that there was a ski helmet on the trail
near the cars. We had a quick discussion, and then Alex dropped his pack and started back. I
guessed it would take him just about an hour to catch up with me, since about half of the trail was
spotted with snow, making it treacherous to go too fast. I followed the other party for 20 minutes
or so, chatting about conditions and who had the longer drive for this adventure. On the second
switchback I dropped my pack and went back for Alex's. He caught up with me at the junction to the
switchbacks, almost exactly an hour after we split. From there it was pretty straightforward,
though I will say that we should have followed the trail exactly instead of trying to cut shortcuts
between switchbacks.
We got into Garnet Canyon proper around 0430 and put skins on shortly after. Man was it nice
to get out of our now-soaked hiking shoes! I'm also definitely bringing an extra pair of socks next
time. We started seeing the first hints of sun around 0520, and hit the Meadows headwall shortly
thereafter, where we nearly caught up with two parties, both whom we had seen in the parking
lot.
The first bit of excitement came when, while we were booting up the headwall, we caught up with a
pair that were ski-cramponing up (and making it looking pretty tough). As we were passing the
forward skier, the rear one gave a yell and pitched backward, bumping over one small rock, steep
snow, and then skidding over a much larger rock and down the other side. He was out of sight for
me, but Alex called to him when he came to a stop to see how he was. I hopped down to check on him,
and he had gotten lucky enough not to fall in the melted hole next to the rock, instead ending up
right in between the hole and the steep slope of the lower headwall. Still, it was a solid 15 foot
fall! We did some quick WFR assessments, finding only scratches and no head wounds, and then his
partner caught up and said he had it handled. We headed on and didn't see them again. Better luck
next time, dude!
We stashed skins at the rock ridge below and beside the Tepee Glacier so as to drop as much
weight as possible. The boot up the Tepee was warm since it had started getting sun right away, and
we were very glad to get around to the Glencoe col where the sun stopped and the wind started. The
crossing from the top of the Tepee was certainly where the exposure started: we could see the
bottom of the steep slope, and the floor way below that. We decided to boot across instead of ski,
since there was already a defined bootpack. From the Glencoe we hopped down 50 feet or so of rock
and immediately started up the Stettner. It was definitely a harder melt-freeze, so we were excited
about the possibility of it softening up for skiing later. As we neared the first ice bulge, pieces
of ice and snow started coming down from the party directly above us.
We roped up under a protected wall on climbers' right, deciding to simul-climb to save time
since we were still a bit behind schedule. We were about 50 feet below the ice, so when the icefall
from the higher party slowed, I went for it. It was easily some of the most fun ice I've been on
yet: only three feet of actual vertical ice, with a fun lip to crawl over, but it was all wet and
sticky and confidence building. Once above it I scooted to the anchor climbers' left at the bottom
of the Chevy Couloir and rested for a second. Once Alex had moved up and I wasn't pulling tension
on the rope, I clipped an alpine draw to the anchor and continued. The Chevy was just like the
Stett, but longer. Low angle ice, a five foot vert bulge where I placed a screw, more low angle
ice, another screw and another bulge, and then easy ice to the final anchors where the Chevy turned
into the Ford.
This is where we found the climber bottleneck. At the bottom of the Ford we were passed by a
party of 4 on their way down. Above them we could see three going up, three coming down, and two
more on the ridge about to descend. Boy, was it a shitshow. As we ascended, the group of 4
miscommunicated and dropped a rope down the wrong side of the Ford and presumably onto the Lower
Saddle; then, a skier above got caught in a deep runnel in the Ford and had to take five minutes or
so removing skis and handing them to a partner. If you're not a confident skier of steeps, I would
recommend leaving your skis at the top of the Tepee: one fall here and, if you're lucky, you can
stop yourself before you slide through the Ford, the Chevy, and the Stettner, and end up many
thousand feet below in the valley. If you're unlucky, you pitch off the Otterbody or the wrong side
of the bottom of the Ford and end up in the same place, just... flatter.
Luckily we avoided any "objective" danger from other climbers and ascended the Ford through
sun, shade, mashed potatoes and melt-freeze. I was really feeling the altitude, so Alex took the
lead and went hard all the way to the top. I'm attributing his apparent lack of being winded from
living at altitude most of his life, but I've been in Bozeman for four years, so I really should
have no excuse. Either way, props to him for leading the final pitch. We reached the upper Ford
ridge, booted along, got under the summit block and scooted past the last group of three who were
just starting a descent. We topped out at exactly 1159, one whole minute before our agreed-upon
turn-around time! Boy, did that summit beer taste great. We goofed around for about half an hour
taking pictures, fueling up on Hammer gel and Snickers, and giving the groups below some time to
get out of the way. At one minute before 1230, Alex clipped into his Dukes and started hop turning
down the summit pyramid's southeast face.
The first few turns were a little mushy, and we only got 4 or so in before a small rock hop
took us on to the upper southeast face. The turns down this pitch and onto the ridge between the
southeast face and the Ford were pretty sweet, due to the exposure: you could look down either side
and see the valley floor many thousand feet below.
Finally, though, we got to the money pitch. The north side of the Ford hadn't seen sun until
we had gotten on the summit, and it had just freshened up enough that it held the perfect edge. We
did so much whooping coming down this section, I'm sure people below thought that we'd fallen or
something.
Alas, the awesome turns had to end eventually. We pulled up to the first anchor, popped our skis
off and onto our bags, attached crampons, and waited for the previous party to pull their rope.
When they did, we set up and rapped down to the end of the Ford, where we could see the line of
descent through the Chevy.
We ended up teaming up with another pair so that we had more rappel power, and we were able
to get two of the four of us down the first rappel before the first flush of slough from the upper
Ford came through. It lasted about a minute, and we quickly got back to work when it finished so as
to minimize our exposure to the next one. We only had to deal with one more short flush, and after
two more rappels, we were back in the bottom of the Stettner, under the now-slushy ice pitches and
ready to pop skis on and head back home.
We followed our rappel partners through the Glencoe col and down the Tepee, which had accumulated
some interesting flutes during the day. We figured that these were from near-liquid snow coming
down off of the Otterbody. Whatever they were, they were a fun obstacle to negotiate with already
burning legs.
After that we cruised down the slushy Meadows headwall, trying to keep as much speed as possible to
get through the canyon without having to skate. We were able to ski out onto the switchback face
and get a few final turns before we had to step back into our soggy shoes. From there, we had a
mindless two mile walk back to the car, where we quickly shedded bags and clothes and got warm and
dry. With only a short stop in West Yellowstone for some Dairy Queen, we cruised back to Bozeman by
2230, and were asleep shortly thereafter.
Gear List (shared):
2 pair technical tools
2 pair glacier crampons
1 60m 8.1 rope
2 30m 8.1 rope (should have been another 60)
2 16cm ice screws
1 Spectre ice piton
6-8 assorted nuts (unused)
2 ATCs w/ lockers
2 single-length slings w/ wiregates (wanted more)
1 double-length sling w /wiregates
6 extra wiregates
2 extra lockers
Summit packs, with:
2L water
Hammer gel
Voke tabs
Snickers bars
Clif bars
and, to nobody's great surprise...
Summit Beer.
Aside from that, the rest of pitch 4 and 5 were fun, with bigger features and good holds. Pitch 6, however, got a little funky. I lead, and when I got to the final bolt before the 10a face, I lost track of where the bolts went. I scrambled back and forth on a ledge about 6 meters above my last draw, but I just couldn't pick out the next part of the line. I finally gave up and scrambled across a dirty traverse into a chossy gully, where I was lucky enough to be able to place one of the two cams we had brought. Scrambling up some dirty class 4 / low 5 terrain, I stretched the rope until it was almost out (Kev said I had about a meter left) and built a belay on a big tree. When Kevin followed, he said the next bolt was above my ledge of confusion, straight up from where I had clipped the last one. Oh well...
The final two pitches were... hard to decide on. Definitely nice, straightforward climbing, easy holds and (thankfully) more closely bolted, since they had been put up by a different party than P1-6. My arms were just burning pretty bad by that point, so I was very glad to finally find the anchor at the top of pitch 8, especially since I had almost completely run out of quickdraws.
I was very glad that Kevin was up for the final pitch, and despite saying he was tired too, he killed it - with the backpack on, no less! We topped out, pulled our aching feet out of our shoes, and sprinted up to the summit. We had finished climbing at 1240, exactly six hours since we had started. After a summit beer and some tobacco left by some generous previous peakbaggers, we started the long trek down.
The south side of Ross pretty much entirely choss. We got a little off route, having not seen the way up on our approach, and ended up needing a rappel and a lot of traversing to get back on track. If you climb it, when in doubt on descent, stay skier's left!
