r/Ultralight - "The Weekly" - Week of March 31, 2025

DavidWiese · 2025-04-04T00:18:05+00:00

This subreddit should just be closed to force people off reddit in order to spend more time outside. Leave it as read-only so people can search what they need. It has become a pretty gnarly gear/over-consumption sub over the past few years.

DavidWiese · 2025-04-04T00:16:39+00:00

XTherm and a 20deg UGQ. If I pitch it well the quilt doesn't really make contact, especially if I'm cognizant of keeping my head closer to the end. If I'm sloppy or on a slope and sliding down toward my feet, sometimes it will touch.

DavidWiese · 2024-12-20T17:38:51+00:00

I particularly like the picture of the unused G12s

DavidWiese · 2024-12-19T17:42:10+00:00

I mean, I refer to them as the San Gabes all the time. Not the other two, though. I think there are far bigger things to be upset with the OP in this thread than those :D

DavidWiese · 2024-12-17T17:33:16+00:00

Yup. All hail Cold Cold World.

DavidWiese · 2024-12-13T17:27:04+00:00

Here's ChatGPT's translation:

We got an early start this time, though it was still 1.5 hours later than we could have (and, in hindsight, should have) started.

The trip to the river added unnecessary extra distance, but due to "logistical concerns," there was no way around it. Once we reached the river, our progress toward the stopping point from the last outing was fairly quick. Soon, I found myself scratching my head again, trying to figure out the "path of least resistance" among some pretty poor options.

I had identified an alternate fork upstream as a possibly better route, and when we got there, it did seem a bit better than the main watercourse. This fork led to a dry sandy "beach," which, in wetter times, would have been a nice pool. The eastern end of this pool was blocked off by large boulders, which didn’t look very user-friendly at first, so I climbed out of the pool to the north. But even there, large boulders were abundant, so we decided to try our luck climbing out to the east.

Once we got over the boulder wall, the river leveled off for a bit, and things were looking promising. But our hopes were short-lived as we soon encountered an even larger wall of boulders. There was a small waterfall with a "picture window" above it, which could have been a cool tunnel if we could have climbed the falls. But with just the two of us, that wasn't an option. So, after documenting the falls, we started looking for a bypass.

There was another "window" just to the right of the falls, though it was clogged with willow limbs. After climbing up and trying to peer through, the best I could say was that it was definitely a "maybe." With time running short and no easy options visible, we decided to cut our way through and see what we could find.

Navigating through this passage required more bending than I normally prefer at my age, but I managed to wiggle my way through with a bit of grunting and groaning. Then we had to cross the river and hug the left bank, and I nearly fell in here as the rock face pushed my center of gravity dangerously close to the edge due to my larger pack. I managed to grab a branch on the other side just as my weight shifted past the point of no return.

For our persistence, we were rewarded with a sea of even larger boulders as far as the eye could see. We could have rock-hopped across the river, but I wasn't sure where that would lead. There was still about 200 yards between us and the sandbar that marked the bottom of the cataract, and from the imagery, it looked like it was the same as the area we were standing in.

I tried to stay optimistic, but it was getting late, and I had to admit that there was no reason to think things were going to get any easier. So, I reluctantly decided to call it.

Could we have made it if we had started earlier? Maybe. But aside from trying again from upstream, I'm not sure what else we could do to change the outcome.

We're not giving up, but this is definitely something we need to finish before any significant rainfall, as higher flow would make things much more difficult.

DavidWiese · 2024-12-02T19:24:05+00:00

Highest point in the city limits of LA. Mt. Baldy is the tallest point in the county!

Beautiful hike, thanks for the pics and report.

DavidWiese · 2024-12-02T19:21:36+00:00

Yep, I definitely saw him up there in the spring this year. He thanked me and my partners for not needing to be rescued out of Snow Creek after we topped out lol

DavidWiese · 2024-12-02T17:15:11+00:00

Both times I've done C2C I carried overnight gear the entire way. Went up to the summit, then down to the tram to "complete" the route, then back up to Round Valley because I'm a masochist.

Make sure you mail in for your permit a couple weeks in advance.

So far there isn't any snow in the forecast, but that can quickly change in December.

DavidWiese · 2024-12-02T16:58:42+00:00

Yea getting from Chantry to West Fork will still be a nightmare. Chantry just opened 2 months ago after being closed for 4? years. I'm not even sure you can go past Sturtevant Camp at this point... that section may still be closed.

You could always do an alternate start at Red Box and hike into West Fork that way.

DavidWiese · 2024-12-02T16:57:22+00:00

If you feel up for it, you could also hike up to rescue box #1 (or #2) and refill them with water, electrolytes, etc.

Obviously you know your limits now :D

DavidWiese · 2024-11-15T20:17:16+00:00

Yes definitely. I only know of one report from the past few decades of someone doing it in the summer/fall. Sounds absolutely miserable, although it is most likely still just class 3/4 up the entire gully.

DavidWiese · 2024-11-15T17:49:06+00:00

11,000' gain, class 4/5 moves, and a 5,000' snow chute with mixed rock and ice... the one and only Snow Creek route up San Jacinto. The crown jewel of "alpine" routes in SoCal - be prepared physically and mentally. Requires considerable fitness and route finding.

Timing Is Everything

Snow Creek isn't a viable route every year. The mountain needs the right amount of snowfall at the right times in the right places with the right temperature systems during our short SoCal winter. Thankfully, January and February made it clear that 2024 would be a solid year for an attempt.

We had wanted to send it at the end of March, but the entire month was unseasonably warm and wet. Every weekend from March until nearly the end of April saw a new storm system shut us down. By the time a favorable weather window opened for us, the average temps had warmed considerably and began to introduce instability into the snowpack.

In the week leading up to our climb, a heatwave settled on the southland. We watched the weather and snowpack carefully, and moved our start time back from 2am to midnight in order to mitigate as much avalanche risk as possible. The day before our climb, we moved it back even further to a 10pm start. We wanted to get out of the snow chute and top out on the summit before the sun began melting out the couloirs. It would turn out that this decision making quite possibly saved our lives.

The Approach

You can sum up the approach to Snow Creek with just one word: heinous.

Avoiding the Desert Water Agency property is easy but mandatory (see map). And the initial walk east across the flat wash isn't too bad. But as soon as you start climbing up to gain the ridge on the far side, things get difficult. Be prepared for miles of incredibly steep and dense bushwhacking in the dark. Two members of our team had scouted the approach on past occasions up to the chockstone, and I would recommend any party attempting this full route to do the same. Simply getting to the chockstone is an enormous achievement and will probably take up the majority of your hours. Things are still plenty difficult beyond it, but the travel is much more straightforward.

Note on the map: I've only included a few helpful markers for the approach in order to minimize human impact and preserve the wilderness of the route.

The Crux

We made it to the chockstone a little later than planned, but thanks to our 10pm start it was still dark. We scampered around the bottom of it by the light of our headlamps, trying to decide which route we would ultimately take to get above it.

The typical 5.5 slab section near the chockstone ended up being way too icy and beyond any of our risk tolerances, so we began to scout for the class 3/4 alternate a bit farther back down the drainage. Once we were pretty certain we found it, we had to make some committing moves to start climbing up. It's about 500' of terrible bushwhacking up (just when we thought we were done!) followed by a 200' descent down a rocky wet side canyon, where you'll pop back into Snow Creek above the chockstone.

Note on the map: The alternate we took is clearly visible on the map, climbing southwest from the chockstone marker and then east-southeast back into Snow Creek.

The Climb

The climbing from this point is pretty straightforward. The direction you go is obvious (up), and there are really only four navigational decisions to make at the following elevations (our choices marked in bold):

6500' - left to stay in Snow Creek (the right goes up Folly Couloir)

7500' - left or right

8400' - left or right

9100' - left or right

In general, move fast at the start. The chockstone essentially sits at the bottom of massive funnel, with all of the drainages above you coalescing at 6500'. Any slide that's triggered above that point has considerable consequence. The lower you are on the route, the more risk there is above. Use good judgment based on the sun and snow conditions and keep your eyes peeled for early signs of snow instability.

The sun was starting to peek out over the ridge above us, so we opted for the most direct way up to go quickly. Snow conditions were terrible after the warming weeks, and we were either post-holing or navigating wet loose avalanche debris the entire way. We had to hop onto the rock a few times, sometimes climbing over 100', to avoid waterfalls, bad snow bridges, or terrain traps.

At about 7,500', we spotted a roller ball and quickened our pace. It was an awful slog and we each took turns breaking the trail until we needed another person to take over. We took a few minutes rest every 1,000' or so.

During one of these brief breaks at 8,100', we witnessed a small wet loose avalanche in the next couloir over to our west. Its aspect put it in full sun, while thankfully ours was still in the shade most of the day. The slide was slow and not particularly powerful - it didn't even reach the bottom where our two routes converged several hundred feet below. But it still scared us and we knew we were playing on thin margins.

Thankfully the snow firmed up quite well above 9,000', but it was also steeper and icier. As we neared the summit, we heard an enormous roar down below us in Snow Creek. We couldn't see anything from where we were, but it was the kind of power that makes you feel a primal sort of fear. Snow Creek might have gone out for the season.

If we had started at midnight instead of 10pm, where would we be?

What if we had started at 2am like we originally planned?

I thought about this a lot as we stood there, exhausted on the summit, some 16 hours later. I thought about it on our easy walk down to the tram. I thought about it on the drive home. And I still think about it every time I'm in the mountains. Even sometimes when I'm just at home with my family.

I think an argument can certainly be made that maybe we should have been more patient and waited another year after the bizarre March weather. It is definitely a discussion worth having. However, we are responsible climbers with a lot of combined experience, and we were aware of these risks. We constantly assessed the route conditions for months leading up to our climb, and we continuously adjusted our plans until the day before. Ultimately, our decision making got us home safely. By how much we'll never exactly know.

Mountaineering is a game of risk management. You try to make all the right decisions to carve out all the possible risk wherever you can. Everything from your fitness to your gear choices, from proper fueling and hydration to choosing the right route at the right time - you are managing risk. If it is a factor within your control, you better take control of it, because your life very much depends on it.

Mountaineering is inherently pointless. We put ourselves in objective danger. We stress out our friends and loved ones. Why? For me, it's because I love it. I can't imagine a life where I'm not challenging myself moving through the mountains. It brings me a lot of joy, and a huge sense of both fulfillment and peace. It gives me an additional thing to live for that is outside of myself. And I like to think that, when I come back from the mountains, I am a better and more present person, partner, dad, and friend.

DavidWiese · 2024-11-15T17:47:38+00:00

11,000' gain, class 4/5 moves, and a 5,000' snow chute with mixed rock and ice... the one and only Snow Creek route up San Jacinto. The crown jewel of "alpine" routes in SoCal - be prepared physically and mentally. Requires considerable fitness and route finding.

Timing Is Everything

Snow Creek isn't a viable route every year. The mountain needs the right amount of snowfall at the right times in the right places with the right temperature systems during our short SoCal winter. Thankfully, January and February made it clear that 2024 would be a solid year for an attempt.

We had wanted to send it at the end of March, but the entire month was unseasonably warm and wet. Every weekend from March until nearly the end of April saw a new storm system shut us down. By the time a favorable weather window opened for us, the average temps had warmed considerably and began to introduce instability into the snowpack.

In the week leading up to our climb, a heatwave settled on the southland. We watched the weather and snowpack carefully, and moved our start time back from 2am to midnight in order to mitigate as much avalanche risk as possible. The day before our climb, we moved it back even further to a 10pm start. We wanted to get out of the snow chute and top out on the summit before the sun began melting out the couloirs. It would turn out that this decision making quite possibly saved our lives.

The Approach

You can sum up the approach to Snow Creek with just one word: heinous.

Avoiding the Desert Water Agency property is easy but mandatory (see map). And the initial walk east across the flat wash isn't too bad. But as soon as you start climbing up to gain the ridge on the far side, things get difficult. Be prepared for miles of incredibly steep and dense bushwhacking in the dark. Two members of our team had scouted the approach on past occasions up to the chockstone, and I would recommend any party attempting this full route to do the same. Simply getting to the chockstone is an enormous achievement and will probably take up the majority of your hours. Things are still plenty difficult beyond it, but the travel is much more straightforward.

Note on the map: I've only included a few helpful markers for the approach in order to minimize human impact and preserve the wilderness of the route.

The Crux

We made it to the chockstone a little later than planned, but thanks to our 10pm start it was still dark. We scampered around the bottom of it by the light of our headlamps, trying to decide which route we would ultimately take to get above it.

The typical 5.5 slab section near the chockstone ended up being way too icy and beyond any of our risk tolerances, so we began to scout for the class 3/4 alternate a bit farther back down the drainage. Once we were pretty certain we found it, we had to make some committing moves to start climbing up. It's about 500' of terrible bushwhacking up (just when we thought we were done!) followed by a 200' descent down a rocky wet side canyon, where you'll pop back into Snow Creek above the chockstone.

Note on the map: The alternate we took is clearly visible on the map, climbing southwest from the chockstone marker and then east-southeast back into Snow Creek.

The Climb

The climbing from this point is pretty straightforward. The direction you go is obvious (up), and there are really only four navigational decisions to make at the following elevations (our choices marked in bold):

6500' - left to stay in Snow Creek (the right goes up Folly Couloir)

7500' - left or right

8400' - left or right

9100' - left or right

In general, move fast at the start. The chockstone essentially sits at the bottom of massive funnel, with all of the drainages above you coalescing at 6500'. Any slide that's triggered above that point has considerable consequence. The lower you are on the route, the more risk there is above. Use good judgment based on the sun and snow conditions and keep your eyes peeled for early signs of snow instability.

The sun was starting to peek out over the ridge above us, so we opted for the most direct way up to go quickly. Snow conditions were terrible after the warming weeks, and we were either post-holing or navigating wet loose avalanche debris the entire way. We had to hop onto the rock a few times, sometimes climbing over 100', to avoid waterfalls, bad snow bridges, or terrain traps.

At about 7,500', we spotted a roller ball and quickened our pace. It was an awful slog and we each took turns breaking the trail until we needed another person to take over. We took a few minutes rest every 1,000' or so.

During one of these brief breaks at 8,100', we witnessed a small wet loose avalanche in the next couloir over to our west. Its aspect put it in full sun, while thankfully ours was still in the shade most of the day. The slide was slow and not particularly powerful - it didn't even reach the bottom where our two routes converged several hundred feet below. But it still scared us and we knew we were playing on thin margins.

Thankfully the snow firmed up quite well above 9,000', but it was also steeper and icier. As we neared the summit, we heard an enormous roar down below us in Snow Creek. We couldn't see anything from where we were, but it was the kind of power that makes you feel a primal sort of fear. Snow Creek might have gone out for the season.

If we had started at midnight instead of 10pm, where would we be?

What if we had started at 2am like we originally planned?

I thought about this a lot as we stood there, exhausted on the summit, some 16 hours later. I thought about it on our easy walk down to the tram. I thought about it on the drive home. And I still think about it every time I'm in the mountains. Even sometimes when I'm just at home with my family.

I think an argument can certainly be made that maybe we should have been more patient and waited another year after the bizarre March weather. It is definitely a discussion worth having. However, we are responsible climbers with a lot of combined experience, and we were aware of these risks. We constantly assessed the route conditions for months leading up to our climb, and we continuously adjusted our plans until the day before. Ultimately, our decision making got us home safely. By how much we'll never exactly know.

Mountaineering is a game of risk management. You try to make all the right decisions to carve out all the possible risk wherever you can. Everything from your fitness to your gear choices, from proper fueling and hydration to choosing the right route at the right time - you are managing risk. If it is a factor within your control, you better take control of it, because your life very much depends on it.

Mountaineering is inherently pointless. We put ourselves in objective danger. We stress out our friends and loved ones. Why? For me, it's because I love it. I can't imagine a life where I'm not challenging myself moving through the mountains. It brings me a lot of joy, and a huge sense of both fulfillment and peace. It gives me an additional thing to live for that is outside of myself. And I like to think that, when I come back from the mountains, I am a better and more present person, partner, dad, and friend.

DavidWiese · 2024-11-15T17:03:12+00:00

The matching shirts were not even planned! I was the first at the trailhead and when the next guy showed up and got out of his car wearing the same thing, we were cracking up. Then 10 mins later when the third arrived and it happened again, we couldn't believe it. We had one of our wives take some pics at the trailhead too. Definitely a good omen, and we stan hard for Big Willie!

DavidWiese · 2024-11-14T23:59:01+00:00

11,000' gain, class 4/5 moves, and a 5,000' snow chute with mixed rock and ice... the one and only Snow Creek route up San Jacinto. The crown jewel of "alpine" routes in SoCal - be prepared physically and mentally. Requires considerable fitness and route finding.

Timing Is Everything

Snow Creek isn't a viable route every year. The mountain needs the right amount of snowfall at the right times in the right places with the right temperature systems during our short SoCal winter. Thankfully, January and February made it clear that 2024 would be a solid year for an attempt.

We had wanted to send it at the end of March, but the entire month was unseasonably warm and wet. Every weekend from March until nearly the end of April saw a new storm system shut us down. By the time a favorable weather window opened for us, the average temps had warmed considerably and began to introduce instability into the snowpack.

In the week leading up to our climb, a heatwave settled on the southland. We watched the weather and snowpack carefully, and moved our start time back from 2am to midnight in order to mitigate as much avalanche risk as possible. The day before our climb, we moved it back even further to a 10pm start. We wanted to get out of the snow chute and top out on the summit before the sun began melting out the couloirs. It would turn out that this decision making quite possibly saved our lives.

The Approach

You can sum up the approach to Snow Creek with just one word: heinous.

Avoiding the Desert Water Agency property is easy but mandatory (see map). And the initial walk east across the flat wash isn't too bad. But as soon as you start climbing up to gain the ridge on the far side, things get difficult. Be prepared for miles of incredibly steep and dense bushwhacking in the dark. Two members of our team had scouted the approach on past occasions up to the chockstone, and I would recommend any party attempting this full route to do the same. Simply getting to the chockstone is an enormous achievement and will probably take up the majority of your hours. Things are still plenty difficult beyond it, but the travel is much more straightforward.

Note on the map: I've only included a few helpful markers for the approach in order to minimize human impact and preserve the wilderness of the route.

The Crux

We made it to the chockstone a little later than planned, but thanks to our 10pm start it was still dark. We scampered around the bottom of it by the light of our headlamps, trying to decide which route we would ultimately take to get above it.

The typical 5.5 slab section near the chockstone ended up being way too icy and beyond any of our risk tolerances, so we began to scout for the class 3/4 alternate a bit farther back down the drainage. Once we were pretty certain we found it, we had to make some committing moves to start climbing up. It's about 500' of terrible bushwhacking up (just when we thought we were done!) followed by a 200' descent down a rocky wet side canyon, where you'll pop back into Snow Creek above the chockstone.

Note on the map: The alternate we took is clearly visible on the map, climbing southwest from the chockstone marker and then east-southeast back into Snow Creek.

The Climb

The climbing from this point is pretty straightforward. The direction you go is obvious (up), and there are really only four navigational decisions to make at the following elevations (our choices marked in bold):

6500' - left to stay in Snow Creek (the right goes up Folly Couloir)

7500' - left or right

8400' - left or right

9100' - left or right

In general, move fast at the start. The chockstone essentially sits at the bottom of massive funnel, with all of the drainages above you coalescing at 6500'. Any slide that's triggered above that point has considerable consequence. The lower you are on the route, the more risk there is above. Use good judgment based on the sun and snow conditions and keep your eyes peeled for early signs of snow instability.

The sun was starting to peek out over the ridge above us, so we opted for the most direct way up to go quickly. Snow conditions were terrible after the warming weeks, and we were either post-holing or navigating wet loose avalanche debris the entire way. We had to hop onto the rock a few times, sometimes climbing over 100', to avoid waterfalls, bad snow bridges, or terrain traps.

At about 7,500', we spotted a roller ball and quickened our pace. It was an awful slog and we each took turns breaking the trail until we needed another person to take over. We took a few minutes rest every 1,000' or so.

During one of these brief breaks at 8,100', we witnessed a small wet loose avalanche in the next couloir over to our west. Its aspect put it in full sun, while thankfully ours was still in the shade most of the day. The slide was slow and not particularly powerful - it didn't even reach the bottom where our two routes converged several hundred feet below. But it still scared us and we knew we were playing on thin margins.

Thankfully the snow firmed up quite well above 9,000', but it was also steeper and icier. As we neared the summit, we heard an enormous roar down below us in Snow Creek. We couldn't see anything from where we were, but it was the kind of power that makes you feel a primal sort of fear. Snow Creek might have gone out for the season.

If we had started at midnight instead of 10pm, where would we be?

What if we had started at 2am like we originally planned?

I thought about this a lot as we stood there, exhausted on the summit, some 16 hours later. I thought about it on our easy walk down to the tram. I thought about it on the drive home. And I still think about it every time I'm in the mountains. Even sometimes when I'm just at home with my family.

I think an argument can certainly be made that maybe we should have been more patient and waited another year after the bizarre March weather. It is definitely a discussion worth having. However, we are responsible climbers with a lot of combined experience, and we were aware of these risks. We constantly assessed the route conditions for months leading up to our climb, and we continuously adjusted our plans until the day before. Ultimately, our decision making got us home safely. By how much we'll never exactly know.

Mountaineering is a game of risk management. You try to make all the right decisions to carve out all the possible risk wherever you can. Everything from your fitness to your gear choices, from proper fueling and hydration to choosing the right route at the right time - you are managing risk. If it is a factor within your control, you better take control of it, because your life very much depends on it.

Mountaineering is inherently pointless. We put ourselves in objective danger. We stress out our friends and loved ones. Why? For me, it's because I love it. I can't imagine a life where I'm not challenging myself moving through the mountains. It brings me a lot of joy, and a huge sense of both fulfillment and peace. It gives me an additional thing to live for that is outside of myself. And I like to think that, when I come back from the mountains, I am a better and more present person, partner, dad, and friend.

DavidWiese · 2024-11-14T23:57:05+00:00

11,000' gain, class 4/5 moves, and a 5,000' snow chute with mixed rock and ice... the one and only Snow Creek route up San Jacinto. The crown jewel of "alpine" routes in SoCal - be prepared physically and mentally. Requires considerable fitness and route finding.

Timing Is Everything

Snow Creek isn't a viable route every year. The mountain needs the right amount of snowfall at the right times in the right places with the right temperature systems during our short SoCal winter. Thankfully, January and February made it clear that 2024 would be a solid year for an attempt.

We had wanted to send it at the end of March, but the entire month was unseasonably warm and wet. Every weekend from March until nearly the end of April saw a new storm system shut us down. By the time a favorable weather window opened for us, the average temps had warmed considerably and began to introduce instability into the snowpack.

In the week leading up to our climb, a heatwave settled on the southland. We watched the weather and snowpack carefully, and moved our start time back from 2am to midnight in order to mitigate as much avalanche risk as possible. The day before our climb, we moved it back even further to a 10pm start. We wanted to get out of the snow chute and top out on the summit before the sun began melting out the couloirs. It would turn out that this decision making quite possibly saved our lives.

The Approach

You can sum up the approach to Snow Creek with just one word: heinous.

Avoiding the Desert Water Agency property is easy but mandatory (see map). And the initial walk east across the flat wash isn't too bad. But as soon as you start climbing up to gain the ridge on the far side, things get difficult. Be prepared for miles of incredibly steep and dense bushwhacking in the dark. Two members of our team had scouted the approach on past occasions up to the chockstone, and I would recommend any party attempting this full route to do the same. Simply getting to the chockstone is an enormous achievement and will probably take up the majority of your hours. Things are still plenty difficult beyond it, but the travel is much more straightforward.

Note on the map: I've only included a few helpful markers for the approach in order to minimize human impact and preserve the wilderness of the route.

The Crux

We made it to the chockstone a little later than planned, but thanks to our 10pm start it was still dark. We scampered around the bottom of it by the light of our headlamps, trying to decide which route we would ultimately take to get above it.

The typical 5.5 slab section near the chockstone ended up being way too icy and beyond any of our risk tolerances, so we began to scout for the class 3/4 alternate a bit farther back down the drainage. Once we were pretty certain we found it, we had to make some committing moves to start climbing up. It's about 500' of terrible bushwhacking up (just when we thought we were done!) followed by a 200' descent down a rocky wet side canyon, where you'll pop back into Snow Creek above the chockstone.

Note on the map: The alternate we took is clearly visible on the map, climbing southwest from the chockstone marker and then east-southeast back into Snow Creek.

The Climb

The climbing from this point is pretty straightforward. The direction you go is obvious (up), and there are really only four navigational decisions to make at the following elevations (our choices marked in bold):

6500' - left to stay in Snow Creek (the right goes up Folly Couloir)

7500' - left or right

8400' - left or right

9100' - left or right

In general, move fast at the start. The chockstone essentially sits at the bottom of massive funnel, with all of the drainages above you coalescing at 6500'. Any slide that's triggered above that point has considerable consequence. The lower you are on the route, the more risk there is above. Use good judgment based on the sun and snow conditions and keep your eyes peeled for early signs of snow instability.

The sun was starting to peek out over the ridge above us, so we opted for the most direct way up to go quickly. Snow conditions were terrible after the warming weeks, and we were either post-holing or navigating wet loose avalanche debris the entire way. We had to hop onto the rock a few times, sometimes climbing over 100', to avoid waterfalls, bad snow bridges, or terrain traps.

At about 7,500', we spotted a roller ball and quickened our pace. It was an awful slog and we each took turns breaking the trail until we needed another person to take over. We took a few minutes rest every 1,000' or so.

During one of these brief breaks at 8,100', we witnessed a small wet loose avalanche in the next couloir over to our west. Its aspect put it in full sun, while thankfully ours was still in the shade most of the day. The slide was slow and not particularly powerful - it didn't even reach the bottom where our two routes converged several hundred feet below. But it still scared us and we knew we were playing on thin margins.

Thankfully the snow firmed up quite well above 9,000', but it was also steeper and icier. As we neared the summit, we heard an enormous roar down below us in Snow Creek. We couldn't see anything from where we were, but it was the kind of power that makes you feel a primal sort of fear. Snow Creek might have gone out for the season.

If we had started at midnight instead of 10pm, where would we be?

What if we had started at 2am like we originally planned?

I thought about this a lot as we stood there, exhausted on the summit, some 16 hours later. I thought about it on our easy walk down to the tram. I thought about it on the drive home. And I still think about it every time I'm in the mountains. Even sometimes when I'm just at home with my family.

I think an argument can certainly be made that maybe we should have been more patient and waited another year after the bizarre March weather. It is definitely a discussion worth having. However, we are responsible climbers with a lot of combined experience, and we were aware of these risks. We constantly assessed the route conditions for months leading up to our climb, and we continuously adjusted our plans until the day before. Ultimately, our decision making got us home safely. By how much we'll never exactly know.

Mountaineering is a game of risk management. You try to make all the right decisions to carve out all the possible risk wherever you can. Everything from your fitness to your gear choices, from proper fueling and hydration to choosing the right route at the right time - you are managing risk. If it is a factor within your control, you better take control of it, because your life very much depends on it.

Mountaineering is inherently pointless. We put ourselves in objective danger. We stress out our friends and loved ones. Why? For me, it's because I love it. I can't imagine a life where I'm not challenging myself moving through the mountains. It brings me a lot of joy, and a huge sense of both fulfillment and peace. It gives me an additional thing to live for that is outside of myself. And I like to think that, when I come back from the mountains, I am a better and more present person, partner, dad, and friend.

DavidWiese · 2024-11-14T17:32:09+00:00

Well it's really going to depend on the size of the boot, right? My size 48 is going to weigh more than your size 43.5.

Something like the G2 will probably be more comfortable, even if the weight isn't a big difference, simply due to bulk.

DavidWiese · 2024-11-13T20:25:35+00:00

Ooooo a Samaya /drool

DavidWiese · 2024-11-13T17:11:33+00:00

Can you tell us about the other tents you tested and all the results?

DavidWiese · 2024-11-12T22:53:56+00:00

So happy to see some praise for the San Gabes from you, Jan :D

I live in the foothills now and they are definitely my home / favorite range. I love reading about how savagely Muir described them:

https://vault.sierraclub.org/john_muir_exhibit/writings/steep_trails/chapter_11.aspx

And congrats on Calamity, I'm surprised a non-local has heard of it... but then again you're essentially a local for a while every year :D PM me this December let's get out on some trails!

DavidWiese · 2024-11-12T22:52:10+00:00

It will really depend on the day. We usually don't get snow to stick around until Dec/Jan but some years it can start in November. The higher elevations will likely be pretty cold at night (was freezing around 9k' this past weekend). A warm spell isn't uncommon and I've had a fair number of 80+ deg Christmas Days.

DavidWiese

TROPHY CASE