The Archangel â Foraker's North Ridge
The A r c h a n g e l — F o r a k e r ' s N o r t h Ri dge G
erard
A . R oach
A
S we approached the pass, we in stinctively speeded up. Soon we were running pell mell with giant strides across the scree until the entire peak came into view. It was fantastic. We w ere gazing up at the beautiful 11,000-foot-high north face of M ount F oraker. Right in the center of the face and rising directly from glacier to sum m it was the ridge we had come to climb. T H E R E IT WAS!! O ur approach to this pass was almost as m uch fun as the climb itself. N o climbing party had approached this cirque in 41 years, since 1934 when Charles H ouston and party made the first ascent of M ount Foraker. They rode horses out from W onder Lake, packed loads up the F oraker G lacier under the north face and ascended the west ridge. A t the be ginning of 1975, F oraker had seen another six ascents, all by routes from the south or east and involving air support. The west and north flanks are well within M cKinley N ational P ark and regulations prohibiting the use of aircraft plus the distance from roadheads make access to these faces m ore difficult. We hired Berle M ercer, an excellent horse packer, to pack our sup plies and we hiked from W onder Lake to the snout of the F o rak er G lacier in three days. On the fourth day we went four miles along the east side of the H erron G lacier, then an additional three miles southeast into “Caribou V alley” (seen and nam ed by the ’34 p arty ). By using horses to this point, we cut the load-hum ping distance to half w hat it would have been from the snout of the F oraker Glacier. O ur approach hike had covered 60 miles and we had crossed 16 m ajor creeks and rivers. F inally alone w ith our pile of gear, we contem plated our situation. F o r our gamble w ith the horses to work, we had to cross the 6300-foot pass connecting Caribou Valley with the upper F oraker G lacier. W hat if the pass w ouldn’t go? We found the approach slopes to the pass beset by avalanches pouring in from both sides. This gave us pause until we spotted a set of w olf tracks across the debris and over the pass. This supplied the courage we needed and soon our pile of gear was on a beautiful meadow just above the F oraker G lacier. O ur “W olf Pass” had w orked and we felt rather smug as we sat on the tundra just three miles from the bottom of our north ridge. And
w hat a ridge! It rose in one great unbroken sweep from the F oraker G lacier at 6300 feet to the 17,400-foot sum m it of F o rak er w ith an average angle of 35°. We had studied W ashburn’s aerial photo of this ridge long and hard, but the reality of sitting underneath it was over powering. W e took advantage of a spell of good w eather to push the route up 2000 feet to a tiny platform for Cam p I. This was the most dangerous p art of the climb. The first 1000 feet was exposed to séracs above and the debris that we climbed over gave m ute testim ony to w hat could happen. On the slope above we found a thin layer of snow over hard ice. This slope was ever changing and always in bad condition and we dubbed it the “T arget.” Above the T arget was a 30-foot rotten ice headwall. W hile Dave was leading this pitch there was a sharp settling crack and we felt the whole wall move. We were in instant terro r at this dis play of the m ountain’s power. A nd so the pitch becam e known as the “Shock W ave W all.” Back in our Base Cam p at the base of the route we felt rather sobered by this first day’s climbing. D oubt was there. Obviously, we would have to climb at night, but since the route basked in the sun from two A.M . to ten P.M . this would only be a partial solution. Before we could make another move however, we were battered by a violent storm. The wind sprang from now here and whisked three airing sleeping bags out across the glacier. W e recovered them only after a mad “keystone-cops” chase of 600 yards! The storm came on in earnest and cam ped on the bare glacial ice, we were very vulnerable. Two of our three tents w ent down, and all six of us ended up shivering in the third, which only survived because it bent down like the proverbial reed before the wind. The storm blew itself out in 24 hours, but it took over two days to recover from it. We had soaked sleeping bags, and ripped tents to contend with, and this w retched camp soon became an energy sink. As fast as we would laboriously chop a tent platform out of the ice, it would m elt out. D uring this period our resolve to climb this route strengthened and doubts vanished. N othing could be worse than our energy sink Base Camp! We escaped up the m ountain. A fter a series of night maneuvers, we were safely established in Cam p I above the danger zone. The climbing above Cam p I was beautiful. A series of ridges, ram ps and walls led up 1000 feet to the Apex, an im portant and spectacular point where the north ridge becomes well de fined. Standing on the Apex, we had the feeling of being suspended from a skyhook. T here were great voids on 3.9 sides! The only connection w ith reality and the rest of M ount F oraker was an incredibly sharp knifeedged ridge. It curved and danced away from us, climbing gently. U p to this point we had traded the lead like gentlemen, but now everybody w anted to be up there on the “A ngel’s W ay” . A fter com plicated nego
tiations, Dave, Stu and Brad w ent up to do the honors. It turned out to be more hard w ork than glory. W e had been having good weather, and it was just plain hot. O ur igloo at Cam p I sagged and collapsed under the onslaught of the sun. We repaired it; it melted again; we gave up. M any nights were spent sleeping out, a practice followed even at High Camp. The snow condition along the beautiful A ngel’s W ay was generally rotten. In the morning the sun would beat in on the left or east face and the steps on that side would shine blue from underneath. In the after noon the other side would get the same treatm ent. We had to resort to m ore nighttim e tactics before we were established safely in Cam p II, nestled in a wide spot on the ridge just beyond the A ngel’s Way. Each time we traversed the A ngel’s W ay was special. Its perfect form and spectacular setting more than com pensated for the rotten snow. Cam p II was at 10,000 feet; and w ith most of the m ajor difficulties below us, there was a growing feeling that we could dispatch the upper part of the peak in short order. But we had been having perfect w eather — it couldn’t last. The barom eter would drop m ore each day, and we resisted the tem ptation to bolt for the summit. Above Cam p II the ridge continued curving upw ards— more steeply now. H igher still it became m ore of an edge than a ridge, and we had several hundred feet of bare ice to contend with. Above in a slight basin at 11,800 feet, we found good igloo snow. A t last! We left the tents at Cam p II and moved up to stay. A fter several hours of labor, we had a magnificent igloo. It was over 8 feet high, and all six of us could stand up and walk around in it together. We had had 11 days of good w eather since the Sink Cam p storm, and we had climbed ourselves into a frazzle trying to keep up w ith it. Now poised in our igloo one day from the summit, the w eather went out. This provided us with a m uch needed rest before our long push for the summit, still 5600 feet above us. Two days later it looked as if it m ight clear. We started with the theory that if there was any chance, we should start and go until it be came obvious we should turn around. We w ent up 1000 feet to the be ginning of the broken rock band, and it was obvious we should turn around. It was not sum m it w eather. Back in the igloo the barom eter kept going down, and we wondered. The next m orning I rolled over in my sleeping bag and checked the barom eter again. Down some more. It was now the lowest we had seen it on the trip. A shout filtered in from outside the igloo, “Hey, it’s clear!” “Clear?” “Clear!” M cKinley danced in the sun as we moved up through the rocks and onto the vast upper slopes of the mountain. Up, up and up for ten hours,
and then we were capering on the flat sum m it of F oraker. We dashed from edge to edge, got the ropes all tangled up and overexposed several photos. W e all congratulated Barb on being the first woman to climb F oraker and soaked up the incredible view. Back in the igloo it snowed about three feet in the next two days. We finally m ade a break for it and found a lot of changes in the route below. Twenty-five hours later we sank into the tundra and flowers of glacier meadows tired and happy. As we slogged out in the rain, the memories were already playing in my mind. It had been fine. S u m m a ry o f Statistics:
A laska Range. M ount F oraker, 17,400 feet, via the N o rth Ridge; left W onder Lake on June 15, 1975; reached the summ it on July 14, 1975 (entire p arty ). P e r s o n n e l : G erard and B arbara Roach, Brad Johnson, D avid W right, Stewart Krebs, Charles Campbell.
A
rea:
N
ew
Route:
erard
A . R oach
A
S we approached the pass, we in stinctively speeded up. Soon we were running pell mell with giant strides across the scree until the entire peak came into view. It was fantastic. We w ere gazing up at the beautiful 11,000-foot-high north face of M ount F oraker. Right in the center of the face and rising directly from glacier to sum m it was the ridge we had come to climb. T H E R E IT WAS!! O ur approach to this pass was almost as m uch fun as the climb itself. N o climbing party had approached this cirque in 41 years, since 1934 when Charles H ouston and party made the first ascent of M ount Foraker. They rode horses out from W onder Lake, packed loads up the F oraker G lacier under the north face and ascended the west ridge. A t the be ginning of 1975, F oraker had seen another six ascents, all by routes from the south or east and involving air support. The west and north flanks are well within M cKinley N ational P ark and regulations prohibiting the use of aircraft plus the distance from roadheads make access to these faces m ore difficult. We hired Berle M ercer, an excellent horse packer, to pack our sup plies and we hiked from W onder Lake to the snout of the F o rak er G lacier in three days. On the fourth day we went four miles along the east side of the H erron G lacier, then an additional three miles southeast into “Caribou V alley” (seen and nam ed by the ’34 p arty ). By using horses to this point, we cut the load-hum ping distance to half w hat it would have been from the snout of the F oraker Glacier. O ur approach hike had covered 60 miles and we had crossed 16 m ajor creeks and rivers. F inally alone w ith our pile of gear, we contem plated our situation. F o r our gamble w ith the horses to work, we had to cross the 6300-foot pass connecting Caribou Valley with the upper F oraker G lacier. W hat if the pass w ouldn’t go? We found the approach slopes to the pass beset by avalanches pouring in from both sides. This gave us pause until we spotted a set of w olf tracks across the debris and over the pass. This supplied the courage we needed and soon our pile of gear was on a beautiful meadow just above the F oraker G lacier. O ur “W olf Pass” had w orked and we felt rather smug as we sat on the tundra just three miles from the bottom of our north ridge. And
w hat a ridge! It rose in one great unbroken sweep from the F oraker G lacier at 6300 feet to the 17,400-foot sum m it of F o rak er w ith an average angle of 35°. We had studied W ashburn’s aerial photo of this ridge long and hard, but the reality of sitting underneath it was over powering. W e took advantage of a spell of good w eather to push the route up 2000 feet to a tiny platform for Cam p I. This was the most dangerous p art of the climb. The first 1000 feet was exposed to séracs above and the debris that we climbed over gave m ute testim ony to w hat could happen. On the slope above we found a thin layer of snow over hard ice. This slope was ever changing and always in bad condition and we dubbed it the “T arget.” Above the T arget was a 30-foot rotten ice headwall. W hile Dave was leading this pitch there was a sharp settling crack and we felt the whole wall move. We were in instant terro r at this dis play of the m ountain’s power. A nd so the pitch becam e known as the “Shock W ave W all.” Back in our Base Cam p at the base of the route we felt rather sobered by this first day’s climbing. D oubt was there. Obviously, we would have to climb at night, but since the route basked in the sun from two A.M . to ten P.M . this would only be a partial solution. Before we could make another move however, we were battered by a violent storm. The wind sprang from now here and whisked three airing sleeping bags out across the glacier. W e recovered them only after a mad “keystone-cops” chase of 600 yards! The storm came on in earnest and cam ped on the bare glacial ice, we were very vulnerable. Two of our three tents w ent down, and all six of us ended up shivering in the third, which only survived because it bent down like the proverbial reed before the wind. The storm blew itself out in 24 hours, but it took over two days to recover from it. We had soaked sleeping bags, and ripped tents to contend with, and this w retched camp soon became an energy sink. As fast as we would laboriously chop a tent platform out of the ice, it would m elt out. D uring this period our resolve to climb this route strengthened and doubts vanished. N othing could be worse than our energy sink Base Camp! We escaped up the m ountain. A fter a series of night maneuvers, we were safely established in Cam p I above the danger zone. The climbing above Cam p I was beautiful. A series of ridges, ram ps and walls led up 1000 feet to the Apex, an im portant and spectacular point where the north ridge becomes well de fined. Standing on the Apex, we had the feeling of being suspended from a skyhook. T here were great voids on 3.9 sides! The only connection w ith reality and the rest of M ount F oraker was an incredibly sharp knifeedged ridge. It curved and danced away from us, climbing gently. U p to this point we had traded the lead like gentlemen, but now everybody w anted to be up there on the “A ngel’s W ay” . A fter com plicated nego
tiations, Dave, Stu and Brad w ent up to do the honors. It turned out to be more hard w ork than glory. W e had been having good weather, and it was just plain hot. O ur igloo at Cam p I sagged and collapsed under the onslaught of the sun. We repaired it; it melted again; we gave up. M any nights were spent sleeping out, a practice followed even at High Camp. The snow condition along the beautiful A ngel’s W ay was generally rotten. In the morning the sun would beat in on the left or east face and the steps on that side would shine blue from underneath. In the after noon the other side would get the same treatm ent. We had to resort to m ore nighttim e tactics before we were established safely in Cam p II, nestled in a wide spot on the ridge just beyond the A ngel’s Way. Each time we traversed the A ngel’s W ay was special. Its perfect form and spectacular setting more than com pensated for the rotten snow. Cam p II was at 10,000 feet; and w ith most of the m ajor difficulties below us, there was a growing feeling that we could dispatch the upper part of the peak in short order. But we had been having perfect w eather — it couldn’t last. The barom eter would drop m ore each day, and we resisted the tem ptation to bolt for the summit. Above Cam p II the ridge continued curving upw ards— more steeply now. H igher still it became m ore of an edge than a ridge, and we had several hundred feet of bare ice to contend with. Above in a slight basin at 11,800 feet, we found good igloo snow. A t last! We left the tents at Cam p II and moved up to stay. A fter several hours of labor, we had a magnificent igloo. It was over 8 feet high, and all six of us could stand up and walk around in it together. We had had 11 days of good w eather since the Sink Cam p storm, and we had climbed ourselves into a frazzle trying to keep up w ith it. Now poised in our igloo one day from the summit, the w eather went out. This provided us with a m uch needed rest before our long push for the summit, still 5600 feet above us. Two days later it looked as if it m ight clear. We started with the theory that if there was any chance, we should start and go until it be came obvious we should turn around. We w ent up 1000 feet to the be ginning of the broken rock band, and it was obvious we should turn around. It was not sum m it w eather. Back in the igloo the barom eter kept going down, and we wondered. The next m orning I rolled over in my sleeping bag and checked the barom eter again. Down some more. It was now the lowest we had seen it on the trip. A shout filtered in from outside the igloo, “Hey, it’s clear!” “Clear?” “Clear!” M cKinley danced in the sun as we moved up through the rocks and onto the vast upper slopes of the mountain. Up, up and up for ten hours,
and then we were capering on the flat sum m it of F oraker. We dashed from edge to edge, got the ropes all tangled up and overexposed several photos. W e all congratulated Barb on being the first woman to climb F oraker and soaked up the incredible view. Back in the igloo it snowed about three feet in the next two days. We finally m ade a break for it and found a lot of changes in the route below. Twenty-five hours later we sank into the tundra and flowers of glacier meadows tired and happy. As we slogged out in the rain, the memories were already playing in my mind. It had been fine. S u m m a ry o f Statistics:
A laska Range. M ount F oraker, 17,400 feet, via the N o rth Ridge; left W onder Lake on June 15, 1975; reached the summ it on July 14, 1975 (entire p arty ). P e r s o n n e l : G erard and B arbara Roach, Brad Johnson, D avid W right, Stewart Krebs, Charles Campbell.
A
rea:
N
ew
Route:
