Jack Mountain, East Ridge
Carolyn Cuppage, Pat, and I finally climbed Jack last week via the East
Ridge. We originally planned a rematch with the Mox, but as the
forecast deteriorated, threatening day 2 of our 4-day window, we switch
opponents. This was Pat's and my third go at Jack, and as the approach
is hard on old knees, we skipped the Jerry Lakes trouts this time; the
goal was to climb the damn thing. Going Roupp / Toyota style, we
brought bivys, a megamid, and that freeze-dried gunk labeled food. We
even shared a single coffee press, and if that's not Extreme Chossism I
don't know what is.
The whether folks predicted ickiness on days 1 and 2 and a nice solid
high on days 3 and 4, and for once they were right. We camped at the
trail head and were moving early on day 1. It started raining shortly
after we reached Crater Lake. I wanted to push on through the rain to
the Crater / Jack col, but Pat, older and wiser, had a superior plan:
napping. So up went the mid, down came the rain, and out went the
climbers. The drips slacked a few hours later, we stretched and
scratched and headed up in the fog, quickly losing our way traversing
to the col. We corrected course after a very puzzling look at the
compass, and accidentally stumbled right onto the col bivy site. We
knew a bad blow was coming back, so we anchored our little tarp with
appliance-sized boulders and climbed in for the night.
The rain blew all night and all morning, and as napping had paid
off before, we gritted our teeth and resolved to nap on, un-slugging
only to add and subtract coffee.
The wind died down at 4pm on day 2, and we packed up and traversed
Jerry glacier, bypassing the descent into Jerry Lakes via a thin but
solid class 4 pitch up a rock band above the ice. 2 miles and few
thousand vertical feet of pleasant off-trail rambling brought us to a
nice site at the foot of Jack's Southeast ridge. The mosquitoes were
delighted with our choice of shelter, and word spread quickly that
supper had arrived.
Sometime in the night the promised high blew through revealing the
milky way up close and personal. Day 3 dawned crisp and clear. We were
rested, fed, and in the right place at the right time. No excuses for
not climbing Jack today.
The East Ridge has the best rock on the mountain. Unfortunately
this is not saying much. "Generally excellent rock on the ridge." says
Fred. Horse hockey. The East Ridge is a continuous 1600-foot class 4
scramble, and on reading that sentence, one might presume that he
means, "The East Ridge *is composed of* generally excellent
rock." This is not true. What he means is, "You will find a few short
patches of generally excellent rock on the east ridge, scattered
between long runs of very loose stacked rocks, which may or may not
hold body weight at the whim of forces that will be entirely
undecipherable to the person possessing the body in question." If the
rock were solid this would be an unbelievably fun climb, sustained,
movey, and with great exposure. But the looseness of the rock on most
of the route makes it unnerving, as you make every move anticipating
that one of your three contact points may release at any time.
And of course, there're your damn partners to worry about, kicking
off rocks on your head. Fortunately (and somewhat perversely, I admit),
all three of us are pretty good at this kind of crappy travel by now,
and no one dislodged a single partner-clocker the whole day. We carried
a light 60M rope and small rack, but never unpacked them on the way up,
mainly because the few decent anchor points didn't line up with the
tough sections.
We topped out at 11am to big, big views. The register revealed that we
were the first party up this year, and that only 4 parties summitted
all last year, all by the South Face. Peggy Goldman, author of the
scrambles book and one of the new guides to the 100 highest, saved Jack
for 99th place. I understand why.
Most parties climb and descend by the south face, which is big and
offers many route options. Having never been there, we chose
badly. While traversing the summit ridge from east to west, we
descended too early, and slowly but inexorably cliffed out after mixed
steep snow and choss. The easiest way up and down the South face
appears to be as far to the West as possible. The rope earned its
weight as we rigged a rap on a big leaning boulder to descend the last
pitch. With the Mounties Sharkfin accident fresh in our minds, Carolyn
and I unclipped from the rap anchor before Pat, owner of the party's
fattest ass, weighted it. Obviously, since I'm writing this, the rock
stayed put.
Mentally exhausted after 11 hours of extremely precise limb placement,
I made a stupid mistake once we'd made easier ground, rolled my foot on
a sticky rock that I expected to surf, and torqued my ankle. If it
weren't for the white hot pain I would have enjoyed the very exciting
popping sound. On one hand I was really pissed at myself for screwing
up that close to the tent. On the other hand I was grateful I hadn't
screwed up higher, where the consequences would have been more
expensive.
Pat and Carolyn rolled, and I hobbled into camp around 6. We fed bugs
and slept. Pat, God bless him, hauled up a little bourbon, and a nip or
two, plus 10 hours sleep, healed my ankle enough to move at a
reasonable pace. Day 4 my partners took stuff from my pack, and we
descended.
While Jack can be climbed in 3 days without too much trouble,
stretching it to 4 is much more pleasurable, as the summit day is
always likely to be long, and it's nice to hit it fresh and to make all
those tricky route decisions without time pressure. Bring hard hats,
ice axes, and crampons. Rap rope is optional if you stay on route.
Leave behind the lead rack and rock shoes.
Pictures