|
|
High on Bonanza Peak
|
Bonanza Peak, elevation 9,511 feet. This is the highest non-volcanic
peak in Washington State and the North Cascades. We climbed it on
July 7-9, 1995. All I can say about this peak is "What a pain in
the butt." This is a true "alpine challenge." Bonanza is famous
for its quality of rock. To quote Fred Beckey, "Rain or warm
temperatures are liable to begin stonefall. In many respects
Bonanza has something of the quality of the large peaks of the Alps
and Canadian Rockies." Beckey makes this characteristic sound like
a compliment. Come on Fred, stop beating around the bush and say it:
the rock is broken, crumbling, all-around crap, just like the
Alps and Canadian Rockies.
We left Everett about 5:45 a.m. on Friday morning, stopped for a
German pastry in Leavenworth, then proceeded to a small town about
10 miles up Lake Chelan to catch the Lady of the Lake at 9:45 a.m.
to Lucerne. We made it there about 9:15, but the Lady was late
because she was only operating on one engine. The old Lady was very
slow and we left about 10:00 a.m. and arrived in Lucerne about
noon. Lucerne consists of one house and a dock. The boat dumps you
off there and everyone is piled into an old school bus. A flatbed
truck later comes down and picks up all the luggage, or in our case,
backpacks. The bus full of Lutherans, hikers, and a few climbers
is then taken up a long, steep, winding one-lane road to Holden.
As the bus is speeding up this road, the flat bed pick-up is heading
down the road, constantly calling on the radio, where are you we are
now at "Drop Off Curve to Hell Number One." The School Bus driver is
calling back, "Oh s-t! That is where we are at." The Lutherans were
anxiously praying, the hikers were anxiously eating their GORP, and
the climbers were bored or sleeping.
When we arrived at Holden we had to pay the driver $10.00 each for
the ride which included a free ride back to the ferry. We then had
to wait about an hour for the packs, because the person driving the
truck carrying the packs radioed that he was going to take a swim in
the lake. Actually, I think we had to wait for a different reason.
At the lake we picked up the schmuck who lives in the sole house in
Lucerne. During the drive from the lake, the man in the pick-up truck
was not only asking if we were going to have a head on collision in
the next minute, but also if the schmuck was on the bus. Several
times he asked this and his overly concerned manner made me wonder.
I think there was a little more than a swim going on down in Lucerne,
which maybe involved the poor schmuck's wife.
Since I was again bored and had nothing better to do while I waited
for the gear to arrive, I decided to read some of the propaganda
pinned up around Holden. I learned that a long time ago Holden was
the camp for the largest copper mine in the United States. Now it is
a small Lutheran camp stuck in the middle of nowhere. Walking around
I saw several buildings and couple of dormitories. Investigating further,
I learned that Lutherans often come here as a retreat, a sabbatical,
or just to unwind. I also noticed an upcoming retreat called "People
Friendly Sexual Ethics." Seriously. Maybe Lutherans don't have as
much starch in their collars as I thought. I mean, what is this all about?
Finally, just as I was contemplating leaving without my gear, the truck
finally showed up. The refreshed driver tossed off the luggage and
packs and we left Holden about 1:30 p.m. Not soon enough to get out
of this little Gomorrah, but we had no choice.
It is a five or six mile hike from Holden Village to Holden Lake. As
you begin the hike you get excellent views of Copper Mountain. The color
of the mountain makes it appear to be made entirely of copper. Walking
the trail you see nuggets of copper in several places. The hike took us
about three hours because of rain, snow patches, and trying to find a
good campsite. When we got to base camp, the rain stopped long enough
for us to set up camp and have dinner. The mood was foreboding. We ate
dinner as if it was our Last Supper. This is surely how the apostles
must have felt. We then stayed up until dark talking as climbers do
about nothing of consequence, just past and future climbs. The mosquitoes
were bad but I have seen them much worse.
|
|
Bonanza Peak
|
The next day was Saturday. It had rained hard the previous night. It
wasn't raining in the morning but it was very cloudy. The weather
being iffy, our group of three decided we would at least hike up onto
the glacier and check out the route. (Have you ever noticed that this
is how epics always get started? Many a last-heard statement has been
"Let's just hike in a little ways and see what the conditions are
like.") We left camp at first light. From our camp we walked directly
west through the boulders until we came to a glacier-fed stream.
Because of the unusually heavy snow during the winter the stream was
wide. The stream flowed at a level just below my crotch. We removed
our boots and began to wade across the river. The water was so cold
it was as if someone had slapped me across the face. I have never felt
anything quite like it in my life. It almost knocked me unconscious.
The glacial silt oozed up between my numb toes. Once across the river,
we ascended a talus slope and slogged through snow upward toward its
apex with a band of vine maple. At the apex, we stayed to the right
and entered the vine maple. It was tough going. A short ways up in
the maple you can easily walk up onto the rocks on your right. We
unfortunately left for the rocks too early and had to do some Class
3 scrambling. Typically, we only found out about the correct route
on the way down. Once past this, we stayed to the right side of the
rocks and continued to scramble up sandy slabs until we reached the
glacier at the top of the wall. We put on crampons and roped up.
Some people refer to this as a grade II glacier but it is definitely
grade III near the top. Many places on the glacier were solid ice.
We saw a snow bridge that had been buckled by the recent movement of
the glacier. After we had roped up it began to rain again, making
it difficult to see the route. (Wands are a must on this route
because the weather can change quickly and because of all the blind
rises on the route.) We crossed the glacier, heading for the
northeast ridge, then swung back to the snow thumb leading up the
east face of the peak. As we approached the rock base the snow
became very steep, necessitating belays.
It had just stopped raining once we got to the rock, and we decided
to go up anyway. The rock route is a very long class 3 and 4 route.
It begins to the right of the snow thumb. It is exposed and very
beautiful. Although not really difficult, a small rack and pickets
are recommended. The gully has snow in places and this snow can be
severely undercut. If you stay to the right of the gully it is
generally easier. Unfortunately, we once again learned this on the
way down. The rock was not slippery, but was very friable. Much
caution is needed to make sure you don't knock someone on the head
with a boulder. About two-thirds up the rock, you traverse left by a
small outcropping. There is a gully to the right; make sure not to
take this one. Once you are to the left, the route proceeds straight
up to the ridge. From the ridge make one difficult move and you are
able to unrope and walk to the top.
The summit is a jagged rubble heap. I truly expect some day this
broken leaning summit will slip off one of its many major fractures
and plummet to the glaciers below. Then, thank God, this peak will
no longer be the highest non-volcanic peak in Washington. It will be
lower than Mount Stuart and people will no longer have the desire
to climb it. Everyone will stick with Stuart and all will be right
in the world.
On the summit the clouds were coming in and out and the views were
limited. We could, however, look into Copper, Fernow, and Seven
Fingered Jack. But this was about the extent of our views. We ate
briefly and took the obligatory summit photographs. We then
scrambled back to the rope. The first person on the first rappel
put an end to the rope. He stepped on a big slab boulder, which slid
over the rope and almost severed it at 1/3 length. I half-rappelled
and half down climbed to the location of the cut. My partner at the
end of the rope looked shocked. I looked at the rope and was also
shocked. As I began to dig for my knife, I was told from above to
just hit it with the adz of my ax. Good idea. One blow from my very
dull ice ax left the rope in two parts. So much for that rope.
With all three of us together on the ledge I tied the rope sections
together with a double fisherman, coiled it, and threw it over my
shoulder. We began down climbing. The down climbing was easy, just
exposed, covered with gravel in spots, and loose. Hey, like Beckey
says, just like the Canadian Rockies! We made one more very short
rappel, right above a very undercut snowfield, then down climbed the
rest of the snow and rock to the glacier. On the glacier we regrouped,
tied into the dead soldier of a rope, and headed back down the glacier.
We didn't put crampons on because it was raining again and the glacier
was very wet. We went back to the base of the glacier unroped and down
climbed rock to the talus. The way we went down was much easier than
the way we went the right way. (For future reference, when ascending
this section it is easier if you go up until it is easy to step onto
the rock.)
It was dark when we reached the stream. We again disrobed and crossed.
This time we didn't feel the bite of the ice water. Two of us reached
camp together and began to wait for our third. We waited, too tired to
go back and look. After awhile, though, we worried, and went out to
find him. Luckily, we found him a short distance from camp. He had taken
a wrong turn and was just getting his bearing on camp when we spotted him.
The climb took all the light of a July day, which was probably around
15 hours. Back in camp we guzzled water and made dinner. I took it like
communion. Reborn once again. We sat there not talking. We no longer
needed to talk. After 15 hours on the mountain, we each knew the others
as well as if not better than we knew ourselves.
The next day we returned to Holden. The town looked different. We joined
in the town lunch. For $8.00, we got a nice lunch. We sat in the cafeteria,
stinking from three days of sweat, dirt, polypro, and emotion. The
people of the town, however, looked at us with friendly smiles. Never
before have I sat in any restaurant after a climb and been looked at
with anything other than distaste and disgust. Normally a climber in
these situations feels like a homeless person who has found a few bucks
and goes into a restaurant for dinner. These people, however, were very
accepting. What did they see in our souls that we did not? I had
completely misjudged these fine folks with the big mistake being first to
judge them at all. Climbing, like it had done so many times before, had
brought me back down to earth.
[Note: An abbreviated version of this article first appeared as a
summit log entry on Peakware.com. More information about Bonanza Peak
can be found at
http://www.peakware.com/encyclopedia/peaks/bonanza.htm, or in
Climbing Washington Summits]
back to features
