Mt.Athabasca, The Hourglass, June 24 2007. Epicless in Canada

I think Eliot is writing about the trip as a whole, and for the time being I will leave that to him. Not knowing where to start, I’m going to attempt to simply write about the part that effected me the most. No epics this time, but a success on the hardest route I’ve done this far, the Hourglass on Mt.Athabasca (III, AI3-4). For those of you who are interested in the logistics, what we learned, and the (so so) travel conditions on the glacier, I’m happy to write more. For the time being, let’s get to the good stuff.

We reached the base of the north face around 5am. Clouds from the white out still covering everything but beginning to be burned off by the rising pink glow to the east.

Eliot took off for the burgschrund. Our plan was to simulclimb as much of the face as possible, to get us up and past the rock bands, as fast as we could. The route offers the choice between climbing under large missile spewing rock bands, or huge, very menacing seracs. Eliot had never lead ice before, but has a very solid head, and has always been VERY good about honestly assessing his own abilities and comfort zone. We agreed that we would move together as high as he was comfortable, then he’d throw in two screws and bring me up, with us pitching out the rest.

The burgschrund was puckering, only about a meter wide, but with soft, unsupported snow on either side of it, and a 40 foot cave below. Crossing it was like climbing a muddy lose hill, trying to move up faster than the snow fell away underneath you. Both of us punched through, nearly getting to explore the depths of the cavern underneath the face.

My previous time on face, the surface had been a mix of supportive styrofoam snow and hard (but reliable) ice, it was now a 50 degree slope of unconsolidated powder. It was around 300 feet before Eliot encountered ice good enough for a screw, and we both whooped outload when he sank it. The snow here was simply evil. Around a foot of crap snow over aerated ice. You could chop down for good screws and tool placements or climb the snow and pray your feet held. It wasn’t as strenuous as climbing hard ice but was much more insecure. Each foot placement required four or five kicks to pack down enough snow to hold your weight, and the tools were good for balance only. When the fear got too overwhelming, I’d dig down in the snow to ice and sink a tool, just to have the feeling of a reliable placement.

The face is too steep for much in the way of dangerous avalanches, but as the top was in a cloud it was running with spindrift slides every thirty seconds or so. Lower down these were amazing to watch, nearly pleasant. As we got higher and closer to the rock they grew more frequent and intense, filling our hoods with spindrift and blinding us for a few seconds at a time. We ate up the elevation though, and Eliot put in a belay before the first rockband. We’d climbed 600-800 feet in just over two hours and we had passed the worst of the rockfall hazard. The sun hadn’t hit the rockbands yet and they’d been remarkably quiet. One ping pong ball sized rock had buzzed by my ear, but there were no close calls with anything big. Still, I’ll admit to having to chew back blind fear the whole time. We were making excellent time, but between the spindrift slides, the occasional ominous groaning of the seracs and the knowledge that we couldn’t back down the way we came, I felt like I was in over my head. Deep breaths though, we’re doing fine…fear keeps you focused.