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Avery
climber
New Zealand
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Topic Author's Original Post - Nov 15, 2018 - 01:10am PT
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There is very little to be found on this relatively obscure route. (1st Ascent: Barry Blanchard and Jim Elzinga, 1990. Grade V 5.9 A3) After a lot of fruitless searching I decided to go right to the source. Barry was "happy to contribute"
He gave me access to an excerpt about the climb from his forthcoming second book. He devotes an entire chapter about the North-West Ridge climb in it. A new book from Barry will be welcome news to those who are familiar with 'The Calling'.
Excerpt from 'The Recall'(working title) by Barry Blanchard:
The black rock got steeper. Water ran from the summit icefield. We climbed around glistening wet strips and with each pitch the climbing got harder, 5.8, 5.9. Eventually we stood on top of a small pinnacle with the sheer rock of the north face sweeping away to our left for 1500 feet to the northeast ridge. Our commitment felt total - it would be far easier to get over the top and down the Japanese route than it would be to retreat. But the next pitch looked to be the most difficult yet. If we couldn’t get up it, we’d have to retreat our route and the immensity of that scared me. I’d been down the Japanese route, I knew I could get down there and that knowledge granted me some confidence.
“F*#k, is that a sling out on the wall to the left?” I asked. A foot-long piece of white webbing lay against the black rock undoubtedly tied through the eye of a piton that we could not discern.
“Yes, yes, it is. Sh#t, someone must have been here before.” Second ascents are not first ascents. There is little accolade bestowed on the second ascent, Jimmy and I loved accolade.
“I guess, but I’m not going out there. It looks like no man’s land out there.”
Cracks lead to a higher pinnacle that I tied off with a prussic cord and clipped both of my ropes in. A left leaning diagonal crack lead to a shallow corner and the promise of a groove, and chimney, leading off of the face. The rock was running with water and within 15 feet my chalk bag had turned into white mud and my toes were numb with cold inside sodden rock shoes. Reaching for an etrier, I stepped into aid.
“You got this brother!” Jimmy shouted from the belay, “I don’t know anyone who can climb this stuff like you can. You are the man!”
The next 50 feet took an hour for me to stitch together. A3, if I’d ripped any of my placements I would have been going for a long fall as a number of pieces would fail as they became weighted with more than bodyweight. Water, cold, frozen fingers, wet feet, I fretted over blowing a placement and tried to be as careful and weightless as possible each time I stood up in my etriers. And like all aid climbers I stopped breathing, then swore, every time the carabiners I weighted stacked onto each other and settled with a “SNAP!” and a jerk. That always scares the hell out of me. I stepped off of aid and free climbed to the snowline. Jimmy jumared with both of our packs and a backup belay on the second rope.
“I don’t know how the hell you climbed that.” He panted at my anchor.
“Oh, you know, courage, determination, skill, cunning, all that crap. Plus, the fact that I HAD to.”
“Well I’m bloody GLAD you did.”
One rope length of ice that laid back and we untied, coiled the ropes, and kicked steps up pure white snow to the summit of Mt Alberta.
Jimmy looked happy on top, the Athabasca River flowing out to merge with the Chaba just over his right shoulder, 7000 feet below and twelve and half miles away.
“There you go! The northwest ridge. Too bad it might have already been climbed.”
“Ya, who knows, that sling might have been a lower-off point.”[1]
We hightailed it for the rappels down the Japanese route.
Thanks to Barry Blanchard
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Delhi Dog
climber
Good Question...
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Nov 15, 2018 - 02:06am PT
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Hey Avery!
Hope you're doing well.
Nice to see you back...remember...keep yer thick skin handy.
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Chris Jones
Social climber
Glen Ellen, CA
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Nov 15, 2018 - 10:06am PT
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Relatively obscure is correct - but then it is on an epic mountain!
In early August of 1970, at the wonderful but dreary Banff club house of the Alpine Club of Canada, I ran into Denny Eberl and Gray Thompson, who like myself had been washed out of the Bugaboos. They were in low spirits, having climbed nothing. But a common interest in Mt. Alberta and Mt. Columbia soon fired them up, the sodden Bugaboos forgotten.
Denny and Gray had already been into Mt. Alberta by fording the Sunwapta River and crossing Woolley Shoulder, and did not relish repeating the experience. The alternative hike up the Athabasca River caught our imagination as the classic approach, having been used by the 1925 Japanese first-ascent party to Alberta. After two days of fair going, in magnificent scenery, we camped on the river flats below where Mt. Alberta should be, if only it was visible. For our first climb Denny and Gray had the northwest ridge of Alberta in mind. It did not sound too exciting, but in our view was the best option from the west side. We toiled up scree to a bivouac near a saddle, and a sinister note jammed in a tin can left by a 1963 Vulgarian Club party: “Go back, go back to the pass, you will all be killed.” The next day was miserable; a stiff wind kept us cold all day while we probed for a route route on Alberta’s black and evil rock. Unable to make an adequate belay, in fact any belay, I said I’d rather unrope than continue. In the end I stayed tied in, but was way too anxious as Denny boldly attempted an unlikely rib. Nervous and discouraged, we threw in the towel. Denny retreated, possibly leaving the white sling spotted by Barry Blanchard and Jim Elzinga. We had no bivouac gear and seemed to be on the wrong route - or at least a route above our commitment level.
The photos above bring our attempt forcefully back to mind. The real climbing lies around the other side of the defining pillar seen in the photos above.
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ydpl8s
Trad climber
Santa Monica, California
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Nov 15, 2018 - 02:36pm PT
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Well there you go, straight from the horses(s) mouth.
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domngo
climber
Canada
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Nov 15, 2018 - 03:46pm PT
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Love stumbling onto your threads, Avery!
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Reilly
Mountain climber
The Other Monrovia- CA
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Nov 15, 2018 - 04:54pm PT
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Strong work, Avery! You da MAN!
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Timmc
climber
BC
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Nov 15, 2018 - 05:13pm PT
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Gold
Thank you
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nah000
climber
now/here
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Nov 15, 2018 - 06:01pm PT
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good to see you back Avery! nice work as usual...
and thanks to blanchard for the goods and jones for the [likely] rest of the story! quality.
finally domngo: don’t think i’ve seen a shot of alberta from that angle... super sweet to understand both the north and west faces in the same shot... what were you up to when you took those shots and/or what was the vantage point?
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donini
Trad climber
Ouray, Colorado
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Nov 15, 2018 - 07:45pm PT
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Avery...I’m in NZ. Slde shoes in Christchurch on 11/21 (Patagonia) and 12/5 (Latok). How do I reach you...dinner is on me.
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domngo
climber
Canada
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Nov 16, 2018 - 04:10pm PT
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Vantage point was a Piper PA-23... We were flying ~12'500 & 9'500 ft across the rockies in between survey projects.
more here!
http://www.domngophoto.com
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Reilly
Mountain climber
The Other Monrovia- CA
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Nov 16, 2018 - 04:45pm PT
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Hope you were in a PA-23 Aztec and not an Apache.
Apaches at that altitude take two to pedal.
Cool shot.
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Bad Climber
Trad climber
The Lawless Border Regions
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Nov 16, 2018 - 05:07pm PT
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Canadian Rockies badassery bump. I love those peaks, but they're piles of crap and take a certain type of person to handle the loose, often unprotected climbing. Looking forward to Blanchard's second book. I loved the first one. Go read it if you haven't.
Thanks, Avery.
BAd
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AP
Trad climber
Calgary
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Nov 16, 2018 - 06:12pm PT
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Sometimes choss is fun in its' own way.
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thebravecowboy
climber
The Good Places
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Nov 16, 2018 - 09:12pm PT
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I like dis
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Reilly
Mountain climber
The Other Monrovia- CA
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Nov 16, 2018 - 09:24pm PT
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Sometimes choss is fun
It ain’t supposed to be. Yer girl friend is.
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Avery
climber
New Zealand
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Topic Author's Reply - Nov 25, 2018 - 06:03pm PT
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Canadian Alpine Journal 1995
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'Pass the Pitons' Pete
Big Wall climber
like Ontario, Canada, eh?
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Nov 26, 2018 - 09:57pm PT
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" And like all aid climbers I stopped breathing, then swore, every time the carabiners I weighted stacked onto each other and settled with a “SNAP!” and a jerk. That always scares the hell out of me."
Hee hee. Definitely not an aid climber.
That climb looks absolutely horrifying.... no thanks!
Dom n go? Is that like a girl in leather with a whip at a drive-thru window? [Great photos, buddy - when are we doing another wall?]
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Hurtin Albertan
Mountain climber
Canmore, Alberta
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Nov 27, 2018 - 01:30pm PT
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Wow, great to hear from you, Chris, and good to know who it was up there after all of these years, although if I had had to guess ... Tim Auger told me of a conversation he had at the Elephants Perch with one of you three fine gentlemen and "Tell Barry he made the first ascent" got passed onto me by Tim. Good work on getting down from there.
I hear good things, well mostly good, about the NE ridge, although I haven't climbed it. Raphael Slawinski climbed it twice, if memory serves, and if it does that is saying something.
I'll edit my manuscript to "all bad aid climbers".
Happy trails,
Barry Blanchard
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Clint Cummins
Trad climber
SF Bay area, CA
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Nov 27, 2018 - 04:56pm PT
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This thread is gold.
Thanks for your great work, Avery!
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Chris Jones
Social climber
Glen Ellen, CA
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After posting my mid-November response above, I began to wonder who among the Vulgarians might have left the cheeky note we found in 1970. Even though the note was left 55 years ago, somebody must know. I also forwarded a link to my partner Gray Thompson, knowing he would be interested in Barry Blanchard’s account. For the Vulgarian angle I contacted Claude Suhl, who responded: “So I seem to recall that one summer or over several summers Art Gran with Pete Geiser and John Hudson did several major Canadian Rockies climbs.” Soon I heard from the legendary Art Gran, who filled me in on the 1963 attempt and who in turn led me to George Whitmore. And so it went. Three months, and many contacts later, the story has pretty much emerged - or at least enough of the story that we’ll be posting it up. Of course, there may well be other tales yet to uncover.
One could certainly say that the Northwest Ridge on Mt. Alberta is not the hottest topic in alpinism. But on the other hand Mt. Alberta is one hell of a mountain.
First is the allure of Mt. Alberta itself. Discovered in 1898, and described as: “a superb peak, like a gigantic castle in shape,” having “a grim air of inaccessibility about it,” it was to become a major challenge for years to come. It was only in 1925 that a strong Japanese team, with two Swiss guides, made the ascent. It was probably then the most demanding alpine climb in North America. Over the following years the story of this legendary climb, and of the ice axe left on top, assumed mythic proportions. Frank Smythe, then one of Britain’s leading alpinists, said of his 1947 rebuff: “I know of no Alpine peak so difficult by it’s ordinary route, and but one or two Alpine routes to compare with the pitiless limestone slabs with no belays and few resting places.” The second ascent by Fed Ayres and John Oberlin was only made in 1948. As with other singular peaks, such as Mt. Waddington, Mt. Blanc and The Moose’s Tooth, they catch climber’s imagination. Here is where they want to make their mark.
Second is the fact that it took years of attempts to even establish a second route on such a charismatic peak. Attempts that were unknown to myself, even though I knew several of the protagonists.
Third is the quality of those making the attempts; they were stars back in their day. Although the names of most who will be mentioned in the accounts to be posted were once well-known around climber’s campfires, a brief word about them some 50 years later is in order. As far as practical, what follows are the participants words. The story begins in the 1950s.
George Whitmore commences: “I started climbing in 1953, and immediately became fascinated upon learning that there was a mountain in the Canadian Rockies which was so difficult that it had been climbed only twice, and by essentially the same route each time. I have to thank Dick Irvin for making me aware of this. He and George Mandatory were living in a house in San Francisco which I moved into, and it was they who got me started climbing.
In any event, I became fixated upon Mount Alberta, and was determined that there must be another way up it. Study of the Boundary Survey map, and the few photos which could be found, suggested that the northwest corner might be worth checking out. It appeared that one could get quite high relatively easily, but the final five hundred feet or so might be another matter.
I rendezvoused with Dick Irvin in the Rockies that same year, 1953. (The high point of that trip was an attempt on the then-unclimbed central peak of Mount Bryce---"the last unclimbed eleven thousander.") I returned with Wallace Wood in 1954. I remember having Alberta in mind, but the weather in 1954 was atrocious, and Wally was not the right partner. A stint in the military killed a couple years, and then I made the mistake of getting a job. After a few years of that I finally came to my senses, chucked the job, and headed for the mountains. Mount Alberta was at the top of the list.”
After writing these words, Whitmore searched his book collection and located Frank Smythe’s book, “Climbs in the Canadian Rockies,” - the very book where he had first seen pictures of Mt. Alberta’s western side.
“Frank Smythe was in the Rockies during World War II, involved with training the Lovat Scouts (a military unit) in winter mountaineering; (their mission was to be a proposed invasion of Norway). It was apparently during this period that he saw the west side of Mount Alberta, as he mentions having seen the mountain from the air in 1944.
The book contains a beautiful photo of the west side of the mountain from the air. The photo clearly shows both the northwest ridge and the flying buttress in profile. Both lines are obvious lines of attack, so it is not surprising that ultimately each was finally climbed. I remember studying this photo intently in the years prior to my trips.
Both during the Lovat Scout time, and during his postwar trip, Smythe associated with Rex Gibson. Smythe states that Gibson had led several attempts on Alberta. So it appears Gibson also had a special interest in the mountain. It seems to me likely that Gibson and Smythe were in the same airplane when Smythe took the photo which appears in his book. And thus Gibson's advice to Oberlin and Ayres that any attempt on the west side was likely to prove fruitless.”
Whitmore of course was on the 1958 first ascent of The Nose, and in October of 1961 made the first ascent of the Leaning Tower with Al Macdonald and Glen Denny. A couple of years later, Denny was in the party that made the 3rd ascent of the Nose.
“In 1961 I was there with Jerry Dixon and Glen Denny. The higher we got the more difficult it became. We finally reached a blank wall which separated us from a chimney which probably would lead to the summit ridge. We did not have the gear to deal with the blank wall, so turned back. On the descent we bivouacked quite high. At first light it started snowing, so we made haste to get off the mountain before conditions became worse. It continued to snow, and the descent turned into quite an epic. I consider ourselves fortunate to have survived the descent. It is perhaps just as well that the climbing was so difficult that we turned back. Had we been able to continue toward the summit, we would have bivouacked even higher, thus making the descent even more difficult.”
Ed Cooper certainly had the momentum in those years. Together with Art Gran, he accomplished the first ascent of the East Face of Bugaboo Spire in 1959, and was to climb El Cap’s Dihedral Wall in 1963. Whitmore continues:
“I returned in 1962 with Ed Cooper. We got weathered off after just getting started on the difficult portion. (Weather in the Rockies was bad that year.)”
East Coast climbers were then also buzzing around in Canada. In 1963 leading Shawngunks pioneer Art Gran joined John Hudson and Pete Geiser to climb the East Face of Mt. Chephren; one of the boldest Rockies climbs of that era.
Whitmore writes of his 1963 attempt: “I met Art Gran in Camp Four. There were some things I really wanted to do, so I was always hustling for partners, as most people were not interested in the things that interested me. My description of Mount Alberta interested Art, and he enlisted John Hudson and Doug Tompkins. (I'm not certain that they considered themselves to be Vulgarians. I do remember their commenting that the Vulgarians were not really vulgar.)
Art led the final pitch to the previous high point. When I got up there I was dismayed to see that my memory had played tricks on me. The blank wall was much farther across than the fifteen feet which had stuck in my mind. Art agreed that it would be very time-consuming to deal with it, and did not object when I suggested that it was perhaps time to give up on the project.”
In Gran’s recollection he noticed a storm gathering, and insisted they go down; twenty minutes later it was upon them as they fought their way down to their campsite.
Finally, we had solved the riddle of the enigmatic 1963 note left by the Vulgarians. Knowing his sense of humor, John Hudson is considered the likely writer of the note. “Go back, go back to the pass, you will all be killed.”
“I had given it a good shot, and decided it was time to move on to other things. So what I was on in 1961/62/63 was perhaps more properly called the west face, albeit the northern end of it. I had always assumed that the northwest ridge would be the place to try, but when we got to the saddle at the base of the ridge and studied what was above us, it appeared that the flying buttress had possibilities.
Not too many years after that Gary Colliver (I don't know who was with him) was there with the same idea---put up a route on the northwest corner. They diverged from our route before the difficulties began, and veered to the left. I had noticed the line they took as being worth investigating. The rock work they did turned out to be easier than what we had done, and they reached the lower edge of the summit ice slopes. They had not taken crampons, and Gary said it would have taken too long to cut steps all the way, so they turned back.
Thus ended my quest for a new route on Alberta. I have always wondered whether someone else came along and completed a route on the northwest corner.”
With such a long western flank, with so many ribs and walls, naming features is confusing. Whitmore noted: “The buttress in its entirety is such a prominent feature that it perhaps should be referred to as the "west buttress."
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Avery
climber
New Zealand
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Topic Author's Reply - Feb 8, 2019 - 12:55pm PT
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Thanks a lot, Chris, for this thoughtful and informative piece.
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Chris Jones
Social climber
Glen Ellen, CA
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George Whitmore’s reference to Gary Colliver’s attempt on Mt. Alberta started another line of inquiry. How had Colliver heard of the Northwest Ridge I wondered. He was not certain, but Glen Denny recalled them discussing Alberta one time on a trip in the Sierra. On the other hand, there were then so few climbers in the United States; how would he not have heard about this famous mountain with just one route? How had the team come together?
He responded; “When Reva, Dick McCracken, and I were planning the 1965 trip, we had arranged to meet Charlie and Trish Raymond at the Columbia Ice Field’s campground on a certain date, after we got out of the Ramparts. When we got to the campground, we ran into Roy Bishop, along with his wife and son, Rusty, who none of us knew previously. I don’t remember if we discussed particulars of his climbing background; all I remember is that he had climbed in the Canadian Rockies several seasons.”
This team of California-based climbers was also very strong. Colliver and companions had made the 1964 first ascent of the formidable Jirishanca Norte in Peru’s Huayhuash. And during 1965 itself Colliver joined Dick McCracken and John Evans to make the fourth ascent of The Nose. Teamed with McCracken and Royal Robbins, Charlie Raymond made the 4-day first ascent of Mt. Hooker’s north face in 1964. And in 1969 Raymond was with Robbins and Joe Fitschen in making three very bold first ascents on the Cathedral Spires in the Kichatna Mountains of Alaska. In the end a bad knee prevented McCracken from joining them on Alberta.
Colliver’s account commences:
“I do remember our 1965 attempt on the NW ridge route on Mt. Alberta. It was on Reva’s and my honeymoon, when we hitchhiked up to Canada. On the attempt Roy Bishop, Charlie Raymond, and I were the climbers.
As far as I can remember, we followed as close as we could to the actual ridge line (perhaps deviating to the left side, but not to the right side), up to the area where the ridge steepens into the obvious rounded buttress that leads to the summit. Low clouds obscured the mountain all day and I don’t remember getting views of the North or the West Faces.
We spent a long day climbing, staying mostly on the north face side of the ridge, as I recollect. At one point we came to a very steep head wall, which I attempted, but the last few feet, which I remember seemed vertical and fairly blank, wouldn’t go, so we backed down a ways and traversed left, further out onto the north face, then up to the lower edge of the summit ice field. From where we met the ice there were a series of narrow ledges—this was where we eventually bivouacked. It didn’t look realistic to go to the right and nothing in that direction that I remember looked like easier terrain; heading straight up the ice above us seemed the obvious way to go; there was no obvious rock route to our right. Looking straight up, the ice disappeared into the clouds, and we had no idea how far we were from the summit. As I remember, I think we took one pair of crampons and one ice axe; (Roy, who done quite a bit of Rockies climbing, assured us we wouldn’t need the ice tools). As I was the one who brought crampons and an ice axe it was my lead. I don’t remember if I went a full pitch and pulled up a second rope so I could descend back to the edge or if I just climbed a half pitch. (I think I hacked a bollard in the ice as a rappel point). I do remember cutting large steps, because I knew the others would be climbing without crampons. Obviously, with crampons and ice axes it would have gone much easier and faster.
Looking at the above photo, a traverse up and right along the line between the rock and the ice seems like the obvious choice to make, but at the time, especially with what little we could see in the mist, that was not clear to us and was never a point of discussion.
There’s a short, sunlit ice rib between the two red lines that may be the most likely place of the pitch I led, as I remember there being something of a rib, a narrow feature in the ice that I ascended on its right side; it may have just been a slight change in angle of the ice. There was no real easing of the angle of the ice to our right, but it definitely got steeper and descended farther to our left. We had, in my recollection, never seen a picture of this side of Alberta and did not know the size, extent, or shape of the summit icecap, which might have helped us make further decisions about how we might proceed.
We spent a cold, rainy night listening to rockfall going down the North Face. In the morning, we were all pretty cold and wet, there was fog engulfing the face, and we could not see what was above the high point I had reached the day before. Reluctantly we decided to descend. We pulled the rope and spent most of the rest of the day rappelling down the route, spent the night at camp, and hiked out the next day.
Not completing the route was probably one of the biggest disappointment of my climbing career. It was my first trip to the Canadian Rockies and climbing on that type of terrain. After that and further experience up there, I don’t think I would ever consider going on such a mountain without everyone having at least crampons and ice axes.”
Just recently Charlie Raymond weighed in. If his recollection is a bit different, remember they are reaching back some 54 years!
“The recounting you have collected from Gary and other info rings true to me except for a few small details. My recollection is that on the lower part of the climb we were mostly to the right (southwest) of the ridge crest or sometimes near to being on it. Higher the ridge is maybe somewhat indefinite. Near the top where the ridge becomes more like a buttress, we went around to the north. My guess is that we reached the summit ice pretty close to where the right-most line in the photo above reaches its lower edge.
I led the pitch from the base of the “headwall" mentioned by Gary, moving to the left toward the north face and then up to a nice ledge at the base of the ice. It was some of the most comfortable climbing on the whole route. Reasonably clean rock. When I arrived at the ledge I erroneously felt that we had it made. The steep ice did not look all that long. The slope was slightly convex laterally, but not on a rib of ice. My memory is pretty clear. When Gary and Roy were up to the ledge, Gary went at the slope with a lot of energy as he described. He went up close to a full pitch. It was clearly a lot of hard, wet work. I followed benefiting from the large steps cut by Gary. When I got up to Gary, he was wet and quite tired and not ready to continue leading. It looked to me that the slope would become somewhat less steep fairly soon up and to the right and wanted to go on. This is where not having more than one ice axe / crampons set made a real difference. Switching the crampons on to my feet on the steep slope was not appealing. Also it was getting late in the day. So we rappelled down to the ledge. I agree with Gary that there were no easy alternatives from that ledge off to the right to get around the steep ice. We would have just been moving sideways a long ways on steep ice just above the headwall that Gary had earlier grappled with.
After the bivouac the weather was not encouraging, so we did not force onward. All disappointed. Over the years, I have looked back thinking that we should have gone on. Looking at these photos I sort of arrive at the view that we probably made the right decision. There was a lot more ice up there than we realized. I have thought that there were 2 primary reasons that we did not complete the climb. First the attempt to climb the "headwall”. That was really hard rock climbing for those circumstances and we lost a lot of time and energy in that diversion. Secondly, but more important, we all should have had ice axes and crampons. We made a bad collective decision on that one. Looking at photos of the mountain from the north ahead of time might have helped us get our planning right. Having somebody on the team, who was really comfortable on ice would have been the best addition.”
This team had the summit within their grasp. Was it the weather that turned the tide, or the decision to leave axes and crampons behind? It was certainly not their skills. Perhaps adding their frequent climbing partner Royal Robbins to the team might have upped the ante - but that year of 1965 he was climbing in the Alps. As it was the first ascent of this general line had to wait another 25 years - but not for lack of attempts.
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Chris Jones
Social climber
Glen Ellen, CA
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After reading Barry Blanchard’s account posted above, Gray Thompson sent me some fascinating news: he had returned to the Northwest Ridge almost 20 years after our 1970 attempt for another tussle with Alberta. And equally intriguingly he wrote: “Denny Eberl and I had attempted Alberta's NE ridge in the summer of ’66 after our Mt Logan climb with Boyd Everett & Co. We spent 10 days in the rain before retreating, meeting Jim McCarthy, John Hudson and Lito Tejada-Flores on our way out via Woolley Shoulder, who were coming in to try the same route. I don’t think they got any further than we did.”
So here is an entirely different line of investigation for someone: early attempts on Alberta’s Northeast Ridge, which was ultimately climbed by K. Swigert and S. Tenney in 1985.
This new cast of characters streaming up and down Woolley Shoulder just about rounds out all those US-based climbers with alpine pretensions in that era. Dartmouth climbers Eberl and Thompson in 1967 joined the immensely talented Dave Seidman and Roman Laba to climb McKinley’s Direct South Face, and the next year made the first ascent by Americans of the Matterhorn’s North Face. Jim McCarthy was the outstanding Shawngunk climber of his time. Among other alpine routes he established the Southeast Face of Proboscis in the Logan Mountains, together with Layton Kor, Dick McCracken and Royal Robbins. I first me Lito Tejada-Flores in 1964 when he arrived back in Chamonix after an attempt on the Direct West Face of the Dru with John Harlin and Nick Estcourt. Qualification enough.
This brings the narrative to the 1970 attempt that I made with Eberl and Thompson which is higher up the thread. An assortment of partners were due to arrive in due course, but for the moment I was adrift. The Alpine Club of Canada then had a classic wooden clubhouse with adjacent cabins on a wonderful site just up the Sulphur Mountain road from town. When at the clubhouse before in 1967, we were charmed by the afternoon teas and the overall feeling that we were back in the 1940s. Also, those in residence were in general going for hikes to Lake O’Hara or around Lake Louise; there did not seem to be any actual climbers in sight. Nothing had changed in 1970. So when Eberl and Thompson showed up I was completely astonished; I knew of them thru their Matterhorn ascent, which to my mind was pretty out there. (In fairness I should point out that over the years we had many great times at the Banff clubhouse. There was a self-cooking area for those of us not getting full board, and the staff were really great. It was just not the place to find climbing partners).
It seems unlikely that no one visited the west side of Alberta between 1970 and 1988, but nonetheless, that is the next attempt of which I am aware.
Gray Thompson narrates: “Mark Whiton, John Barstow and I hiked up the Athabasca River from the highway to get to the NW arete of Alberta in 1988.
We scrambled up the long slope from the river to where the Vulgarians had left that note long ago. From there, the “arete” became a very steep face of weak loose black limestone that led to the summit ice, which looked threatening and carved by deep, steep ice gullies that appeared to be a passage to the top of Alberta.
John had decided not to come up with us. Mark began leading the short, steep and difficult face using several knife blades for aid. As Barry said in his article, none of the placements looked like they’d hold any more than tentative body weight. As Mark climbed, a flurry of rocks came down and struck me on the back with enough force to cut holes in my nice alpine jacket, but only made bruises and drew no blood.
It was getting late, darkness was coming soon, and the ice gullies were shrouded in fog and mist making them look like an entrance to some kind of Hell, although they’re probably a nice path to the summit. We were only 20 feet or so from the top of the rock and beginning of the ice. Mark had used all the knife blades and needed to lower down to recover some of the lower ones to keep going higher toward the ice.
At that point, we discussed whether to go on given the complications from recovering some of the lower pins, the weather and lateness. We decided that he’d get in as good a pin as he could and lower off, which he did.
So the sling material that Barry and Jim saw on their successful climb was probably ours, and we’d not made it to the top so theirs’ was the first ascent. I mentioned this to Barry when I met him at the 2004 Banff film festival when we also met you.”
In a later communication Thompson remarks: “I think the main reason we bailed was that the climbing was easy/moderate to that last pitch, and then became hard aid on knife blades and rurps that Mark was doing, and it was getting dark and it looked like a storm was coming in. In retrospect I don’t think it’s a very good route, although it certainly would have been a new one on a big peak.
Somewhere in my hundreds of thousands of old slides, I have a photo of the Vulgarian’s note, too. I’ll send a copy if I find it.”
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Chris Jones
Social climber
Glen Ellen, CA
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After delving into the above attempts and forays, it was hard to resist the allure of the northeast ridge. As we are talking about many of the same characters, it seems okay to post here rather than on Alberta Northeast Ridge thread.
In answer to a query on his 1966 attempt on Alberta, Lito responded: “I can’t quite remember much about what took us to Alberta for a not very serious attempt. Nor do I remember any other parts of the story. I do sort of remember some very powerful and intriguing black and white photos of Alberta back then, in Ascent I think.”
Jim McCarthy however responded: “While Lito may not recall our adventures on Alberta I do recall them … quite vividly.” In a phone conversation he explained: “We were interested as we knew Art Gran and John Hudson had been up on Alberta. I was in the lead as we crested Woolley Shoulder. I looked at North Twin; it was so scary, it was unbelievable. On the approach Lito had been talking up “North Twin, North Twin”. I was watching him as he arrived and got his first look at that face. Stunned, he just took 3 steps backward. The north face of Alberta was obviously a huge undertaking; our ice tools were no good. So off we went to the northeast ridge - it looked climbable. Solid rock for the most part. We were maybe 4 - 5 pitches up the very steep headwall. We had some nuts etc., but in mountain boots it was hard: 5.8 to 5.9. No cracks, nothing. I was perhaps 60 feet up with nothing in. Ahead I thought there was a crack, but it was dicey. I went on and got to the crack, emotionally drained, and hammered in a pin. After I brought the others up we took stock. There was another pitch like that ahead; I thought I won’t do another lead like that again. So we roped off; there was no sign of any previous attempts.”
Thinking about McCarthy’s comments I realized that the northeast ridge was not their original intent. What was? Jim replied: “North Twin was first on Lito’s list with Alberta second.”
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Mighty Hiker
climber
Outside the Asylum
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Thanks, Chris! Lots of sleuthing there.
Two not involved seem to have been Fred Beckey and Leif Norman Patterson. Leif in particular knew and did a lot of climbing with Glen Denny and Gary Colliver. (But probably not the Vulgarians…) Both Fred and Leif had climbed a lot in the Rockies, although they both liked to find entirely new paths.
And perhaps there were Canadians who gave it a try, but didn't have much success and so didn't record anything?
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