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Peak(s):  Mt. Adams (WA) - 12276
Date Posted:  07/08/2014
Date Climbed:   06/30/2014
Author:  SurfNTurf
Additional Members:   Steve Climber
 Adams Glacier: Touching the Edge Beyond the Limit of the Void   


Mt. Adams (12,276') via Adams Glacier (Grade III, Steep Snow, AI2)


DATES: June 29 to July 1, 2014
RT DISTANCE: ~20 miles
RT GAIN: ~8,500'
CLIMBERS: Sam (Steve Climber), Jeff (SurfNTurf)
RACK: 5 ice screws (1x 19cm, 4x 16cm), 2 pickets, crevasse rescue gear, 40-meter 8.3mm glacier rope

(Photos 1-27 by Jeff.)
(Photos 28-40 by Sam.)


Mt. Adams (12,276') is known as "Washington's Forgotten Mountain." Less than 50 miles from the legendary Mt. Rainier, poor Adams is often lost in the shadow of its larger cousin. It doesn't help that the standard South Side walk-up route is the Pacific Northwest equivalent of Quandary's East Ridge, one of the easiest climbs to the top of a major Cascade peak. Mountaineers are quick to dismiss Adams. Even Mt. Hood, more than 1,000 feet lower, garners more attention.

But for those willing to venture to the more remote North Side, the second-highest mountain in Washington offers bountiful rewards. The crown jewel is the Adams Glacier, a tortured 4,000-foot icefall that requires diligent routefinding, steep snow climbing and several pitches of alpine ice. Sam and I began targeting this climb in early 2014.

Glacier travel, especially on such a broken route, is much safer with three people. Try as we might to entice another solid partner, Sam and I resigned ourselves about a month ago to tackling the Adams Glacier as a two-man team. After a few lengthy crevasse-rescue training sessions, we both agreed it would probably be better just not to fall in.

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Mt. Adams from the approach flight.


We departed Denver at 10:20 a.m. Sunday, June 29. The original plan was to have a leisurely day Sunday, hike in Monday and summit Tuesday. Record-breaking high temperatures in Washington on Monday/Tuesday, complete with overnight lows in the upper 40s, spooked us into an audible. Falling rock/ice, tumbling seracs and collapsing snow bridges already had us worried enough; we didn't need those threats amplified by baking heat.

Instead, we rushed straight from the airport to the trailhead, beginning the approach hike at 5:45 p.m. Sunday. As luck would have it, a snow drift blocked the otherwise dry road about two miles from the proper trailhead. Hooray for impromptu road slogs! At least the promise of a solid overnight freeze before the warm air arrived partially allayed our fears. The negative was we couldn't quite reach the Adams Meadows at 7,000' before a frigid fog bank rolled in, and we elected instead to camp about 500 feet lower on a dry patch of trail. We had just enough time to set up the tent, boil some snow and crawl into our sleeping bags before nightfall.

Here we experienced another setback. Despite brand new batteries and being in lock mode during travel, both of our Black Diamond Storm headlamps died almost immediately. I still don't know what the hell went wrong. I carry a spare 35-lumen Black Diamond Gizmo in my emergency kit, but that wasn't going to do us much good trying to negotiate a tricky route in the dark. We agreed to start around first light at 4:30 a.m. instead of the more advisable 2-3 a.m. Coupled with our low camp, we'd have to move efficiently to safely complete the route. Being a two-man team suddenly didn't seem so bad.

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Ready to walk the two miles to the trailhead. Thanks, snow drift!


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First view of the route.


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Camp in a dry patch on the trail. We had the entire north side all to ourselves, so it didn't bother anybody.


We followed a patchy trail past the normal campsites and slogged toward the start of the glacier at around 8,000'. As with most of the Pacific Northwest volcanoes, the scale on Mt. Adams is immense. Features we thought we'd reach in 15 minutes took 45. We eventually found ourselves roping up about two hours after departing camp, just as the sun was starting to hit the upper glacier.

We were kicking steps up a 45-degree snow slope almost immediately. About halfway up we heard a big "whumpf," and we couldn't tell whether it was the snow settling under us or a falling serac above. Either way, we high-tailed it up to flatter ground.

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Sunrise on Mt. Rainier across the valley.


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Walking up toward the traditional campsites.


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First light hitting the Adams Glacier on the final approach.


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Sam roped up and ready to rock.


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We actually have to climb this thing now, don't we?


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End of the approach.


A 50-degree chute of hard snow, which had been described as the crux by prior trip reports, led to our first major decision of the day. The normal line stays right up most of the glacier, followed by a long traverse left to access the summit plateau. Tracks from a Sunday party veered left way early, and having spoken to them on their way out, we knew they were successful. A teetering serac looming over the right-hand option convinced us to follow the bootpack. This option immediately led to much more technical terrain.

The Adams Glacier is described as a moderate-to-steep snow climb with perhaps a few steeper sections of alpine ice, depending on varying conditions from year to year. Most guidebooks put the maximum angle at 45- to 50-degrees. The left-hand line, however, put us on a rolling hump of 55- to 60-degree neve and alpine ice. In some areas the ice probably touched 65 degrees. We were comfortable simul-climbing it, mostly using a high-dagger technique with two ice tools, with the expectation the steep stuff would only come in short bursts punctuated by moderately angled snow. We couldn't have been more wrong.

The middle of the route was a sustained 500-foot section that never relented to less than 50 degrees. The only rest we found was a T-slot someone had chopped out to belay off a picket. Going in direct to our tools and with some careful maneuvering, we were able to sit in it for a few minutes to eat, drink and rest our screaming calves. We briefly discussed pitching out the next section, which looked to be the steepest yet, but the need for making good time forced our hand. The simul-climbing continued.

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Hero shot of Sam leading one of the AI2 pitches.


Just when I thought my calves were going to start cramping, the angle laid back. We were finally able to walk again rather than frontpointing. Hallelujah. Of course, we still had about 1,000 feet to go over snow bridges, under seracs and around crevasses, and the day was becoming stiflingly hot. Our tensions were eased, however, by the end of technical difficulties and the mostly obvious route to safety. We took the time to admire the stunning environment. Glaciers have to be among the prettiest natural places on earth, and our previously neglected cameras found themselves in overdrive. Some of the crevasse and serac formations high on the route were simply spectacular.

A final challenge was presented in a heavily crevassed section directly underneath the largest serac band on the face. We nervously crossed a few thin, sketchy snow bridges and had to reverse a couple times when we came upon an insurmountable gap, but before too long we'd escaped the threat of the ice cliff and were starting up the mellow unbroken snow slopes to the summit plateau.

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Resting as the slope starts to mellow out.


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Above the technical bits. Happy to be back using our thighs and not our calves.


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Girl's got seracs for daaaaaays.


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...and sometimes they fall.


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Seems like a logical place for a rest break.


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Sam crossing a thin snow bridge.


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Into the belly of the beast.


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Beautiful overhanging crevasse we called The Amphitheatre.


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Huge upper serac band blocking way to the summit plateau. Time to skedaddle.


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Well, not that way...


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Time to back it up.


It was closing in on noon, and the rime ice above us on the North Ridge started peeling off. I was low on energy at this point, but we tried to power through this area as fast as we could. None of the falling chunks were big enough to be very dangerous, though the noise they made as they went whizzing by assured they would hurt like hell.

The safety of the summit plateau brought its own degree of difficulty. What we'd thought all day was the summit turned out to be a very minor subsummit, and a second false summit taunted us as well. We took a long break to eat, drink and improve morale. The true summit eventually made itself known when we saw small dots of people who had come up the South Side. The rope was probably no longer necessary, but we decided to be prudent and leave it on as we commenced the half-mile trudge to the highest point through mashed-potato snow.

Like on Mt. Hood in 2013, I was lucky enough to enjoy a bluebird summit with clear views and no wind. Rainier was just to the north, with the Kautz Route (our next objective) obviously visible. Mt. Hood, Mt. Jefferson and the Three Sisters were all easy to make out to the south, along with the remnants of Mt. Saint Helens to the west. Even the Goat Rocks were inspiring despite their dumb name. Because it was a Monday, the summit crowd was pretty sparse. We shared the top with only about four or five other people during our 45-minute vigil.

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Almost to the summit plateau.


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Resting and refueling above the glacier.


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Oh, joy.


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Final steps toward the summit.


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Summit selfie.


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Mt. Rainier's south side.


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Shamelessly trying to get free beer.


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Mt. Saint Helens.


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Mt. Hood, Mt. Jefferson and the Sisters.


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A little Colorado love.


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I get comp time for this, right?


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Sam and I celebrating the first summit of the trip.


The heat of the day had caused us to blow through our two liters of water apiece. I'd thought about bringing along the Jetboil, but had a lazy moment in the morning and left it behind. We found a workable solution by shoving small amounts of snow into our Nalgenes and letting the soaring temperature work its magic. This method didn't really produce enough water for comfort, but it sustained us until we returned to camp and the awaiting Jetboil.

The descent was via the infamous North Ridge. Nearly everything we read prior to the trip said the North Ridge majorly sucked, a steep and sometimes exposed cleaver of shattered pumice. It ended up not being all that bad, probably because we were able to stay on snow most of the way. Even the few sections of rock we negotiated weren't as terrible as advertised. I guess us Coloradans cutting our teeth in the crumbling Rockies translates well to other areas, haha.

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Descending the North Ridge.


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Looking across the Adams Glacier from the walk-off descent.


We bailed off the ridge about three-quarters of the way down, glissading a gully to reach our morning tracks. An hour-long thirsty walk saw us returned to camp, but relief was not to be had. The previous night had been cold enough to ward off another huge negative aspect of this route: mosquitoes. Now, in the early evening of a muggy day, they were out in full force. The sheer number of the damn things was mindblowing. At times it was hard to inhale without swallowing one or more. Sam had bought some Jungle Juice (98% deet), which the salesman said was illegal in some stores and had to be very conservatively applied. He suggested a dab or two on a bandana should do the trick. Having done this and still wearing a coat of bloodsuckers, we threw caution to the wind and showered ourselves in the toxic liquid. It still didn't really help.

Once we had a liter of water apiece, we dove into the tiny Black Diamond Firstlight tent and stripped down to our skivvies to make the heat tolerable. It was extremely romantic. We passed a long few hours until nightfall, boiling in our own juices, counting the mosquitoes on the tent wall and trying not to touch each other. I escaped the tent to take some sunset photos and melt more snow once the temperature dropped and the buzzing assholes disappeared.

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Sunset on Mt. Rainier.


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Our quaint little camp, blissfully mosquito-free.


Not to worry! They were back with a vengeance the following morning, even at the early hour of 6 a.m. We packed our gear as fast as we could and got the hell out of there. The hike out went fairly quick to the actual trailhead, but the remaining two-mile road slog to the rental car was soul crushing. What had appeared flat on the hike in turned out to be largely uphill on the return. We probably gained 500 feet on the way out in the rising heat of one of the hottest Washington days on record.

The sufferfest was worth it when we rolled in to Morton, Wash., just in time for the USA vs. Belgium soccer match at The Bucksnort Pub. It took a little charm to get the bartender to warm up to the two smelly cityfolk asking to watch a sissy Euro sport, but after a while she and the other bar patron at 1 p.m. on a Tuesday, a fellow called simply Skeeter, embraced us like old friends. The beer probably helped. We even summoned the courage to order burgers after about an hour.

All in all, the Adams Glacier was an amazing route that was one of the finest of our lives. Surely our next objective, the Kautz Glacier on Mt. Rainier, would be a comparative cakewalk. We even had two full days to recover! Basking in the afterglow of Mt. Adams and regarding Rainier as halfway in the bag, we contentedly passed the next 48 hours visiting the Wylam family in Centralia, Wash., and putzing around the touristy areas of Seattle. As it turns out, the Kautz wouldn't be so easy...

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On to the next one.


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Red = ascent. Orange = descent. Height of true summit behind false summits not exaggerated.



Thumbnails for uploaded photos (click to open slideshow):
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40


Comments or Questions
Steve Climber
User
Nice write up man!
7/8/2014 10:32pm
Thanks for putting it together.

This is one of those trips I won't forget for a VERY long time. And not just because of our sweaty tent time


Somewhat of a Prick
User
Sweet stuff
7/8/2014 11:38pm
Awesome TR and pics!

When do you think you will graduate from a 12er to a 14er? I can take you up Grays Peak sometime if you'd like to give it a shot. Hit me up if interested.

Thanks


kansas
User
Sounds like a great trip
7/9/2014 1:23am
...except that when sharing a Firstlight tent on a big mountain, you must snuggle. These are the rules.


jmanner
User
Kansas...
7/9/2014 2:19pm
...hahahaha.


You guys should totally take The Prick up on his offer. I hear Grays is a good one to bring a guide on and The Prick is the best at that.


michaelgrundy
User
Great write up
7/9/2014 2:21pm
Kudos to accomplishing such a great route! Nice work gents!


GregMiller
User
Great work!
7/9/2014 2:39pm
Sad I couldn't join you guys (although I'm not sad I missed the mosquitos!).


Zambo
User
Awesome Adventure
7/9/2014 2:42pm
Really enjoyed this read, Jeff. Thanks for posting.


Michael J
User
Nice work!
7/9/2014 3:03pm
Great job! One of these days I'm going to have to learn how to do a snow climb, use ropes, crampons, etc. I'll check in with both of you about the headlamp thing. Bought a brand new one myself, same model and it quit before the first trip.


Brian Thomas
User
Informative, entertaining, and well written
7/9/2014 4:48pm
Nicely done folks, I enjoyed reading this. Thanks for writing this up Jeff!


maxpika
User
fantastic
7/9/2014 6:16pm
great climb. great trip report. can't wait to read about your next day.


BenfromtheEast
User
Its a fine tail.
7/9/2014 6:54pm
You write good. Many large words. Can't wait for Part 2. Use this title: Kautz Kuddle Skivvy Bivvy


JosephG
Fun read.
7/9/2014 6:54pm
And sounds like quite the day. Good advice: probably better just not to fall in. A few years ago at camp below Pigeon & Turret, the mosquitos were so bad that we resorted to wearing our windbreakers/shells. Which of course meant we roasted.


akoller
I'm a big fan
7/10/2014 12:28am
of the title of this TR.


jsdratm
User
re:
7/10/2014 12:40am
Nice to see the CMC flag up there, good job!


SurfNTurf
User
Thanks
7/10/2014 10:21pm
Thanks for the comments everyone. There aren't many recent TRs on this route, so I hope it helps someone giving it a go. Fun, aesthetic climb.


colokeith
User
BD Storm
7/16/2014 10:15pm
So my BD Storm died on me suddenly last week on Tocllaraju. I was in the middle of a 60+ degree pitch. I checked the battery indicator when I turned it on and it was green.

I ended up having to replace my batteries with those from avalanche transceiver for a couple of hours.



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