Mt. Alberta, West Face. I first saw a photo of the face in a 1989 ...
M t. Alberta, West Face. I first saw a p h o to o f the face in a 1989 Clim bing m agazine. A spectacular aerial shot show ed a wall o f black lim estone to p p ed by a dazzlingly w hite su m m it ridge, w ith a rare blue sky. A gothic flying buttress, rising gracefully to the su m m it icefield, ju m p e d o u t at me. The cap tio n read: “T he unclim b ed west face o f M o u n t A lberta.” At the tim e, given my abilities, th e p h o to m ay as well have been o f O lym pus M ons on M ars, b u t I did n o t forget it. O ne w eekend in late July, Rich Akitt and I headed for the face, but, for reasons th a t escape m e now, I th o u g h t we should tr a verse to it on one o f th e large scree ledges th at girdle A lberta. We retreated, an d th e next day ran up th e N ortheast Ridge, descended the Japanese route, hiked o u t to the road, an d drove back to Calgary, arriv in g shortly before daw n on M onday. I thought I was d one w ith Alberta for the season, b u t gradually I fo u n d m yself th in k in g a b o u t it again. So on a heartbreakingly beautiful Friday aftern o o n in m id-Septem ber, E am onn Walsh and I w aded across the S unw apta River an d headed up W oolley Creek. The fresh snow plastering th e peaks w ould n o t m elt u n til spring, b u t ever the o p tim ist, I figured th e steepness and sunny aspect w ould m ean it w ould still be in rockclim bing shape. We skidded dow n rubble an d ju m p e d gritty cre vasses tow ard A lberta, visible only as a h u lking black shape against a star-filled sky. T he m o o n was ju st past new and did not light o u r way like last tim e, bu t unlike
last tim e I knew w here to go. Staying low, we ro u n d ed the south end o f the m o u n ta in an d eas ily walked across a rocky plateau b en eath th e west face. At a shallow col th a t p lu n g ed in to a deep, shadow ed valley to th e n o rth , we sto p p ed for a quick rest. A cold w in d w hip p ed across the saddle, and we were soon m oving again, scram bling up scree and rock steps tow ard the ver tical headw all capping the west face. We filled up on w ater w here it trickled dow n an ice gully, keeping an eye out for falling stones. W here the gully opened into a snowfield, we d o n n ed cram pons and traversed to the base o f o u r chosen rib. A beautiful ribbon o f ice cascaded dow n between the main wall and the lower p art o f the buttress. We were briefly tem pted, but o u r having only one tool apiece and no screws convinced us to stick to the rock. Besides, we were freezing an d could see the first rays o f sunlight w arm ing the crest. At the to p o f the first pitch we fo u n d an old rap p el statio n . A nd I do m ean old: heavy, rusted pins stam ped “Swiss m ade,” connected w ith bleached goldline. In 1963 fo u r Vulgarians had a ttem p ted the w est face an d nearly m ad e it up before being forced dow n by electrical storm s. We w ould be following in th eir footsteps m ost o f the day. C hanging into rock shoes, we co ntinued up. C rim ping on crum bling edges, the last knifeblade a d istant m em ory, I basked in my fear. At least once a year I find m yself w h im p erin g to my p artn er: “I do n o t w ant to be scared any m ore.” A nd yet p erched on th a t flying b u ttress, high above em pty, silent valleys, th ere was now here else I w ould rath er have been. As the afternoon w ore on we were faced w ith a steep off-w idth crack, the only weakness in w hat looked to be the final steep step. Fortunately, th e rock also to o k a tu rn for th e better, and after som e g ru n tin g a n d m e sen d in g a few volleys o f stones dow n on E am o n n ’s head (“D ude, are you OK?” “I’m … n o t… su re… ” ) we were up, and looking at w hat we hoped really was the final steep step. We snuck up it via an easy gully, the rock shoes and chalk bags w ent into the packs, o u t cam e boots an d cram p o n s. U nder an intensely blue sky, m ore K arakoram th an C anadian Rockies, we w alked up th e gentle snow slope to the su m m it and, w ith o u t stopping, headed dow n the long south ridge. N ight fell as we com pleted the last rappel dow n the Japanese gully, below and u p w in d o f the E lephants’ Asses. But we knew w here to go a n d so were spared sittin g o u t a cold night. P lunging in to the darkness, we do w n clim b ed rock steps an d surfed scree tow ard th e d istan t creature com forts o f the hut. M t. A lberta (3,619m ), West Face (V 5.10+). R a p h a e l S l a w in s k i ,
Canada, AAC
last tim e I knew w here to go. Staying low, we ro u n d ed the south end o f the m o u n ta in an d eas ily walked across a rocky plateau b en eath th e west face. At a shallow col th a t p lu n g ed in to a deep, shadow ed valley to th e n o rth , we sto p p ed for a quick rest. A cold w in d w hip p ed across the saddle, and we were soon m oving again, scram bling up scree and rock steps tow ard the ver tical headw all capping the west face. We filled up on w ater w here it trickled dow n an ice gully, keeping an eye out for falling stones. W here the gully opened into a snowfield, we d o n n ed cram pons and traversed to the base o f o u r chosen rib. A beautiful ribbon o f ice cascaded dow n between the main wall and the lower p art o f the buttress. We were briefly tem pted, but o u r having only one tool apiece and no screws convinced us to stick to the rock. Besides, we were freezing an d could see the first rays o f sunlight w arm ing the crest. At the to p o f the first pitch we fo u n d an old rap p el statio n . A nd I do m ean old: heavy, rusted pins stam ped “Swiss m ade,” connected w ith bleached goldline. In 1963 fo u r Vulgarians had a ttem p ted the w est face an d nearly m ad e it up before being forced dow n by electrical storm s. We w ould be following in th eir footsteps m ost o f the day. C hanging into rock shoes, we co ntinued up. C rim ping on crum bling edges, the last knifeblade a d istant m em ory, I basked in my fear. At least once a year I find m yself w h im p erin g to my p artn er: “I do n o t w ant to be scared any m ore.” A nd yet p erched on th a t flying b u ttress, high above em pty, silent valleys, th ere was now here else I w ould rath er have been. As the afternoon w ore on we were faced w ith a steep off-w idth crack, the only weakness in w hat looked to be the final steep step. Fortunately, th e rock also to o k a tu rn for th e better, and after som e g ru n tin g a n d m e sen d in g a few volleys o f stones dow n on E am o n n ’s head (“D ude, are you OK?” “I’m … n o t… su re… ” ) we were up, and looking at w hat we hoped really was the final steep step. We snuck up it via an easy gully, the rock shoes and chalk bags w ent into the packs, o u t cam e boots an d cram p o n s. U nder an intensely blue sky, m ore K arakoram th an C anadian Rockies, we w alked up th e gentle snow slope to the su m m it and, w ith o u t stopping, headed dow n the long south ridge. N ight fell as we com pleted the last rappel dow n the Japanese gully, below and u p w in d o f the E lephants’ Asses. But we knew w here to go a n d so were spared sittin g o u t a cold night. P lunging in to the darkness, we do w n clim b ed rock steps an d surfed scree tow ard th e d istan t creature com forts o f the hut. M t. A lberta (3,619m ), West Face (V 5.10+). R a p h a e l S l a w in s k i ,
Canada, AAC
