Report Type | Full |
Peak(s) |
Mount Jasper (12,923') |
Date Posted | 06/30/2024 |
Date Climbed | 06/29/2024 |
Author | ekalina |
Communing with the Snow Lion | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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StatsDate: Saturday, June 29, 2024 Distance: 9.6 mi RT Gain: 3250' Start: 4:20 am End: 1 pm Prelude: Wednesday, June 26th (T - 3 days to climb)What to do, what to do. The snow climbing season was seemingly wrapping up, and I had little to show for it despite a hefty amount of effort. Back in May I and three others had schlepped 4 x 45 pounds of camping and mountaineering gear up to Snowmass Lake, hoping to climb Snowmass the next morning, but all we managed to do was nail the peak of a wet slab avalanche cycle, getting 0.2 mi from camp before calling it quits on decidedly questionable snow. Other team attempts had been made on the east ridge of North Star and Whale's Tail couloir on Whale Peak, and had not worked out due to poor timing or other compounding factors. If someone said I spent more than 30 minutes in crampons so far this season, it would be generous. I wanted to get out on Saturday, but partner availability looked bleak. The Snowmass team from before was once again making a Snowmass attempt, but I couldn't get time off for Friday's prerequisite drive and also wasn't feeling another 45-pound pack in. A few other folks had either recently moved farther from the Frange or otherwise weren't available. It looked like if I got out, it was going to be a solo excursion. It was tempting to just trail run something, maybe Skyscraper Peak, and have a simple day with a few pounds of gear. But the desire to actually climb some snow this year was still there. Was there something moderate that was still in and feasible to do on my own? I thumbed through Roach's excellent IPW book. Skyscraper Glacier had potential, with Roach reporting an easy line to climber's right. But it required a circuitous drive to the Rollins Pass TH by way of Berthoud Pass, which seemed unappealing given that the route was east of the Divide. Oooo, Snow Lion on Jasper. "The best mountaineering route" on a peak I'd yet to climb. Ah, but it sounds like it's out. "By mid-June the route starts to melt out, and by July the snow on this route is gone." Damn, nearly July. My impeccable timing seemed poised to continue. I almost didn't bother checking Sentinel satellite imagery of Jasper after reading Roach's description. But when I did, I found an image from June 24th of something that looked very much in. I thought I could make out the broken rock rib that borders Snow Lion to climber's left. If that was the rib, the route still held plenty of snow. I clicked through a few more images, some from days prior, and others from nearly the same date in prior years. Unless the browser wasn't showing me the dates that it claimed, Snow Lion looked pretty darn good in late June. The objective was set. Saturday, June 29thThe alarm goes off at 2 am. Of all the things I like about spending time in the mountains, getting up early isn't one of them. Despite only half a night's sleep, I feel better than usual once the grogginess wears off, an advantage to a route that allows for a one-day push as opposed to camping, when I never seem to sleep well. Contacts in, teeth brushed, breakfast burrito downed. I say goodbye to my wife who still has the majority of her sleep ahead of her, and pop into the car at 2:57 am, three minutes ahead of schedule. The drive to the Fourth of July TH is uneventful, save for one oddly malfunctioning traffic light at the edge of Boulder, where after five minutes of waiting evasive action becomes necessary. The drive up the canyon to Nederland flies by, and then the dark stretch to Eldora under starry skies. The dirt road to the trailhead is in better condition than I remember, though it seems to go very slowly. When I park it's 4:20 am, a bit behind already. I underestimated how long the dirt road would take. No matter, I had built some slack into the system. The weather at the TH is completely calm, clear, and cold, which reassures me. I step out into the night, hoping to get by sans headlamp with the waning crescent moon overhead, but the forest is too dark. Headlamp it is. The first mile of the Arapaho Pass trail to the split for Diamond Lake is steep, and I try to stop myself from going too fast out the gate. Need to feel fresh for the climb. Prior to the trail split is a water crossing that had been giving people trouble on alltrails. I wasn't sure what it would be like, and I hear the sound of rushing water growing steadily louder. I stare out into the beam of my headlamp and gradually a water crossing materializes, but with plenty of rocks to choose from. Hopping across in my trail runners, I manage to only take a small nip of water in my right shoe. Not bad. They would get much wetter later. ![]() ![]() Shortly thereafter I reach the Diamond Lake junction, and I start to gain some momentum, with the trail dropping for a half mile to middle Boulder creek. Dawn is upon me and I switch off the headlamp. The extra light is welcome, but also slightly stressful, given that both the sun and I have plans for the snow. I reach Diamond Lake just prior to 6 am and am treated to spectacular morning light, reflection perfectly pristine off the water's surface and peaks ablaze in alpenglow. ![]() ![]() ![]() After gawking at the scene for a few minutes, I recall Gerry's statement, "a good rule for this route is that if the last mile of the Diamond Lake trail has a lot of snow on it, then the route should be in good condition." Well, that last mile had almost no snow on it, so I am still a bit unsure about my prospects. However, the few snow drifts I crossed had been rock solid, and a thin veneer of ice had even formed across some shallow puddles on the trail. Yesterday's cold front had evidently done me some favors, a welcome relief after many days of early summer heat down in Boulder. I work my way around the north side of Diamond Lake and then onward into the basin towards the upper lake. Another water crossing is more consequential, and I soak my shoes. No matter, I have an extra pair of socks and the trail runners will dry quickly. I also start to encounter some larger snow fields, and these too are quite firm. Looking good. After narrowly avoiding a small slip, I throw spikes on and continue. Route finding to the upper lake is quite intuitive, and there's an intermittent trail to follow as well. ![]() ![]() I reach upper Diamond Lake just a few minutes past 7 am, and wow is it beautiful. Unlike the lower lake, it is an intriguing mixture of blocky ice suspended in liquid. The peaks ringing the lake are lovely. And oh, Snow Lion! Far from being out, it is a perfect sheet of continuous snow rising almost from the lake's shore all the way to the Continental Divide. Even the rock band in the middle of the route is mostly covered. 90 degrees to climber's left is Gaiteraid, another unbroken expanse of spectacular snow, my descent route. ![]() ![]() I climb just slightly higher before coming to a suitable spot to gear up, and pause. It's time for some final reflection about what it means to climb this route on my own. There is no one to help with avalanche rescue, so I need to be absolutely sure about the snow conditions. It is late in the season and the snow above the lake is icy hard, and the sun is just beginning to shine on the upper route. While there are no absolutes in mountaineering, avalanches are unlikely at this early hour on such hard snow. Aside from the snow, I also need to be confident in my own condition. I study the route carefully, nearly all of it in view. It does not seem much steeper than other snow climbs I've done. I am slightly unsure about how it will feel to climb it, given that conditions are firmer than on other, earlier season outings. I brought a second tool, the hybrid Petzl Gully, for this very reason. I decide that the risk level is acceptable and that I'm prepared, swap trail runners for mountain boots, don crampons, axe, and helmet, and begin my climb. The first half of the route is quite mellow and increases in angle only gradually. I easily duck and flat foot my way up the slope. While the snow is hard, it isn't ice, and the bite of my crampons and the spike of my axe give me the final bit of confidence I need. 400 vertical feet of easy climbing is dispatched before the route steepens below the broken rock band and I begin to feel slightly less secure in my ascending traverses, particularly when the axe is in my non-dominant hand. Out comes the Gully. I feel silly as I get into a lazy-X stance and begin advancing the axes in mid dagger on a slope that might be 45 degrees, knowing that more experienced climbers could easily make French technique work. But, instantly I feel very secure in my stance, and avoiding a fall down the route is my singular focus. I can work on my French technique later. ![]() Up I go, advancing axe and crampon in complementary fashion, sharps working in unison to propel me upward. Always careful to maintain three points of contact. My technique is energy intensive, but also thrillingly fun. The frustration of a lackluster snow season vaporizes and I am awash in golden sun and happiness. I am doing a climb that I dreamed about for many years, in perfect conditions, in a beautiful place. The route bends left and steepens slightly further past the rock band, nearing 50 degrees, preparing for its crescendo onto the Divide. I gaze up at the lip of snow framed in brilliant blue sky as it draws ever closer, the steeper angle further elevating my experience. 50 vertical feet, 40, 30, 20, 10...and my communing with the Snow Lion comes to an end. ![]() ![]() A thirty-second walk to climber's left puts me on the summit and in the presence of exceptional views, with lake-studded, half-snow-covered, half-verdant basins laid out in every direction. Jasper has over 1000 feet of prominence, and I could spend hours appreciating this lofty perch. ![]() ![]() Alas, Gaiteraid needed to be downclimbed before it got too soft. I eat a quick bite, refresh my sunscreen, and begin walking down the grassy south slope. I level with the top of Gaiteraid faster than I expect, and realize I'm headed too far right, into Storm Lake Basin. Traverse left. Soon I am peering down into the correct basin. Man, Gaiteraid looks steep. Well, the far side is supposed to be shallower, let's check that. Man, still steep. As I contemplate the descent, I look down into the basin below and see a group of three making their way to the base of the climbs. Perhaps I wouldn't be Snow Lion's only guest today. Back to Gaiteraid. I read that people glissaded this, and certainly those that didn't glissade it probably plunge stepped it. Eh, I didn't feel so good about that, at least not at the top, not knowing how hard the snow was. So I face in and gingerly work my way off the ridge and onto the snow field. Ah, this is nice. The snow had softened a bit since departing Snow Lion, and it was now easy to kick steps, which supported my weight well. Going down is much easier than going up, and in ten minutes, the line had become quite mellow. I face out and consider a short glissade, and promptly hear mountaineering instructors past say "never glissade in crampons," which I had put back on at the top of Gaiteraid. Plunge stepping it was. ![]() The show is over, the rest is a simple hike out. Before leaving, I adjust my trajectory just slightly to say hi to the team of three, which by now had worked their way to the base of Snow Lion. They were ski mountaineers, hoping to ski Snow Lion or another line in the basin. My heroes...I can't ski at all. I comment on how the snow seems to be softening up nicely and wish them luck on their climb and ski. ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() I thought I might run into the skiers later and hear how it went, but my descent to lower Diamond Lake goes quickly. Before heading back to the car, I spend some time at the lake reflecting on how grateful I am to have climbed a classic route like Snow Lion. While every outing is special, I'd like to think there's at least one for every mountaineer that stands out, laying bare the gradual build up of skills, confidence, and fitness that transmutes one into...something more. Snow Lion is that route for me. I hope you revel in yours, too. ![]() ![]() Notable Gear
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