The Tooth, July 22; Ingalls Peak July 23, 2000
Time for a relaxing weekend with two classic, easy, crowded alpine climbs.At the Alpental parking lot Saturday morning.
The weather forecast had turned sour for Saturday, but Jeff, Greg and I headed out for the Tooth anyway - it is such a non-committing climb (3 short pitches up to 5.4) that the bad weather wasn't much of a put off.
There was one caveat: I had to be back in Seattle by 7pm in order to attend a meet-the-neighbours bbq at my new place. We left the parking lot at 9am, giving us ~9 hours. Should be plenty of time, I thought. I remembered from last time that the approach was only about 2 hours, and the climb itself no more than that.
There was no rain, but the fog was dense, as we traversed across the Source Lake basin, and headed up the slope to the basin below the Tooth. There was still snow here, and it was pretty firm - glad to have plastic boots. Jeff talked about how this was his third attempt at climbing The Tooth - the first was a bust due to icy conditions, and the second found him and Cormac wandering around in a whiteout, unable to find the mountain. Kind of like today. In addition to the 50ft visiblity, there was a fine mist in the air. Not quite rain though.
We passed a pair of climbers coming down from The Tooth, having bailed because of the weather: "It's just colder and wetter up there". They added that there was a group up there, more hard core than them, that was heading up.
The basin below The Tooth (taken on the descent, after the visibility had improved markedly).
As we walked by them, we tried to follow their footprints in the snow. Eventually, they headed off up the side of the valley in a weird direction (way too soon, I thought), and we just headed straight up a snow slope. I thought we were heading straight towards the notch immediately below The Tooth (still not far enough up the valley - the best notch to aim for is Pineapple Pass, one notch to the south of that one). All of a sudden, we were on a ridge top. Nothing looked familiar. We heard other voices off in the distance, and Greg suggested that we should ask them if they were on The Tooth. Having too much pride (not willing to ask for directions), I said no way! Besides, I was sure they were way too far north, and lost too. It appeared that we might be at a notch below the north ridge of The Tooth (class 4, low 5), and thought that we might as well try the north ridge instead, since we were here. It was wet though. Colder and wetter up here, as the other guys said. And was this really the North Ridge? Our motivation began to wane.
We heard the voices again, and it sounded like they were climbing. What was there to climb north of The Tooth? Finally, curiosity got the better of me, and I yelled out "Are you guys on the Tooth?" No answer. Greg yelled some, and finally we heard them asking each other if they heard some voices. Greg yelled the question out again, and the answer we got back was an angry-sounding "yes!". Poor fools, I thought, they aren't on The Tooth.
So we headed north along the ridge, descending on steep snow to get around some spires, and ended up right at Pineapple Pass. Indeed. Okay, so I guess they are on The Tooth. We scrambled around to the base of the climb, and started "suiting up". It was kind of wet and yucky, but there was little wind, and The Tooth is such a friendly place. Jeff led the first pitch, and I the second, in plastic boots (I fancy myself a new age Ome Daiber, after all). It was already getting late, and I was thinking we'd have to bail after the second pitch due to the time constraint. We unroped and scrambled the 3rd pitch, and arrived at the base of the final wall. We were well past our turn-around time, but, hey, so close. If we get up this last bit really quick, no problem. So I led up around the "classic" catwalk, which is easier, but more exposed, than the direct finish I had done before. We had a quick bite to eat on top, and began the descent. Unfortunately, the party of two already on top had been waiting for us to finish the direct way, so they could start their rappel. Instead, we had come up the catwalk, and so they had wasted a good half hour up there, needlessly waiting for us. And now we had to wait for them. One of them was a beginner, very slow to rappel. Wait wait wait.
Greg rapping off the second pitch, as the lightning started.
Once we started, I yelled down and asked if they'd let us pass them on the next rappel. I think I mentioned my barbecue. The somewhat angry reply was an "okay". A few minutes later, they announced that they were going to simul-rappel, and so they'd be faster. So I said ok, nevermind, go ahead. Only once we were off the first rappel did I realize that they were "simul-rappelling" the class 3 pitch, which we were going to downclimb!
It started actually raining, instead of just misting.
Wait wait wait.
Once they cleared out below, we started coming down. That's when we heard the first thunder. And it started raining harder, and got pretty windy. Eeek! Almost down... I wanted to be off this thing. It began feeling mildy epic-y. Once off rappel, I started pulling the rope. We were doing single rope raps to reduce the chance of the rope jamming, but... it jammed. It jammed good. We jiggled it, and "reefed" on it, but to no avail.
We heard more thunder. Epic factor rising.
Phil, barely visible rapping off the bottom pitch.
We still had both rope ends with us, so I began to climb up the second pitch a second time, belaying myself with a prussik. Once on top, I saw the rope was wedged deep instead a narrow crack, right near the rap station. With some effort, I freed it, and Greg and Jeff suggested I rap down to an intermediate anchor before going back to them, so it wouldn't happen again. More thunder. More wind. No stuck ropes at the intermediate anchor, phew. Frantically, I set up the rappel back to Greg and Jeff. The rope was very tangled, and it took me a long time, and several throws. And then, lightning that was much closer: CRACKLE! BOOM! Eeeeek!
From here down, there were no more incidents, and we hightailed it out of the notch (bad place to be in a lightning storm) and back down to safety. We arrived back at the trailhead at 6:13pm... just right to be "fashionably late" for the bbq.
Booty note: currently, there are two cams stuck in cracks on the Tooth (not ours). We didn't have time to try to get them out.
Phil at Ingalls Pass (North summit of Ingalls visible just right of the tree, with the south ridge on the left side).
Greg's chest was still in pain from an accident on Sloan Peak the previous weekend, and aggravated by The Tooth, and Dave's pinky was still in pain from an accident on Fisher two weekends previous, and aggravated by aid climbing at Index on Saturday, so it was just Jeff and I who headed for the popular south ridge of Ingalls Peak. We aimed for a late start, hoping to miss the main flow of climbers who try to "beat the crowds" (often seems to be a good tactic for popular crowded climbs like The Tooth or Ingalls). Also, we wanted to sleep in. Jeff wasn't getting much sleep, as he was out at his girlfriend's best friend's wedding shower late Saturday night.
When we pulled into Cle Elum at around 10am Sunday morning, we were both feeling pretty hungry, so we stopped at diner and ate breakfast, and Jeff oggled the cute waitresses.
We drove down the Teanaway river road, which has a nice 50MPH speed limit, and pulled into a crowded overflowing parking lot... but we were still able to find the one empty spot, next to the outhouse. The outhouse was infested with flies, remarkably stinky, and quite slimy. By the time we left the Ingalls Lake trailhead, it was noon. We hiked up the trail through beautiful East Cascade terrain, and weird red rocks. Barely a cloud in the sky... but we had a clear view of the peaks on the Cascade crest, and they were smoothered in a cloud layer. Yay! Hopefully it wouldn't spill over.
Jeff at Ingalls Pass
We reached Ingalls Pass, and caught up to and passed another group of two climbers. Good. The terrain north of Ingalls Pass is beautiful slabby, sparsely forested ground, with little pools and streams running everywhere. Magical alpine elf land! And of course, a backdrop of 9415ft Mt. Stuart, the "largest mass of exposed granite in the US", according to Beckey. The Flagpole, a thin, high spire, was plainly visible further along the Stuart Range.
Mount Stuart, Ingalls Lake, and Jeff Vanderwerf.
We climbed fun 3rd and 4th class slabs from deep blue Ingalls Lake, up to the snow leading to the notch between the south and north peaks of Ingalls. Exactly 3 hours to here. As we approached the notch, I began to wonder if the pair of climbers we'd passed before could have gotten here before us... we didn't exactly take a very direct route. I felt they might pop out from somewhere suddenly, and beat us to the base. Then, I began to wonder about climbing etiquette. What happens if person A from party 1 reaches the base of the climb, followed by both persons of party 2, and finally person B of party 1 closely behind. Does party 1 get to go first since one of their members was there first? These trivial ponderings suddenly became a step closer to hard reality: I reached the base of the climb and looked backed. There was Jeff, about 150 feet below (I let him carry the rack). And lo and behold, only 10 feet in front of him was one of the climbers we'd passed before, who had suddenly appeared from nowhere. Luckily, his partner was nowhere to be seen. I overheard some of the conversation between Jeff and him. Something about his partner not feeling very well, not going very fast, so they might not be up for the climb. Then I heard him say to Jeff, "but I could coach you up the climb if you like". Whaa??
Red snow algae, and Phil's leg and foot.
The place was crowded with climbing teams coming and going. People everywhere. Our friend Dave, climber extraordinaire, had suggested an alternate start for the route, which ascended a low 5th class slab instead of a loose class 4 dirt gully. This looked good, and by the time we got ready, the team at the base of that pitch was already up.
Phil, and too much dermatone, below the south-north peak notch.
Jeff took the lead. Near the top, where it gets a little steeper, and there is a 5.6ish move, he was taking his time. He yelled down and asked how I was doing. I replied that I was bored. He responded that there was no point in hurrying, because there was a 3 party wait up above! My spirits sank. This kind of sucked.
He finished the pitch, and when I joined him at the ledge above, we scrambled up a little further to the start of the main slab. The party that had been right in front of us, was bailing due to the lateness of the day (they didn't have headlamps). The way was clear, our turn was up! It was friggin' cold and windy though, and our motivation wasn't very high.
Climbers on the South Ridge of Ingalls Peak. Route follows obvious crack.
There was a large green boulder. By large, I mean dump truck large. And by green, I mean emerald green. Translucenty emerald green. And smooth, like glass. Smooth, like you could have a 5.9 friction climb on a 20 degree slab of this. An enigma.
Anyway, I continued up a fun crack, the crux of the climb, to a belay horn on the right side of the slab. The next pitch led easily leftward in a crack... half way up, at a bolted belay station, I encountered a party of two rapping down. I had to wait for them to clear the way before continued... finally, on my way again on easy ground, one last grunty move to the summit ridge horns.
Jeff quickly followed up, and we left the ropes at the rap station and scrambled up to the summit. There was no one else around. What happened to the other party that was ahead of us? Suddenly, the peak began to feel much more wildernessy and cool. We were the last ones up on this day.
A crag 20ft away looked like it was a few feet higher, but due to the lateness of the day (it was past 6pm, and we were several rappels, five or six miles, and 3500 vertical feet from the truck), and that fact that it looked exposed, we decided that it was just an optical illusion, and where we were standing was in fact the summit.
Jeff downclimbing the 4th class access gully.
The descent was quick and without incident. We downclimbed the dirt gully at the bottom instead of rapping the slab, and found a more direct route back to Ingalls Pass. Here, we took a lengthy break, renourishing ourselves, and enjoying the late day sun, which accentuated every feature on Mt. Stuart. Two guys passed by and we chatted... they had also just come off Ingalls, and, due to all the parties ascending the south ridge, for their descent tried instead to downclimb the west ridge (the standard route, class 4). Not recommended they said: quite loose and sketchy, and they still had to rappel some sections.
Evening light on the south side of Ingalls Pass
We arrived back at the trailhead a few minutes before 9. All in all, a good day. Nice climb, but way too crowded. Lots of hikers too - interesting anthropological study... like a hiker museum: freaky solo people, classic old timers, inexperienced hikers in cotton & fanny pack on steep snow and exposed rock, families with the daddy carrying five times as much as anyone else, plump furry marmots.
Weird thing: It took us exactly the same amount of time to do The Tooth as it did Ingalls. Exactly the same amount of time on the approach, on the climb, and on the return hike.