[Facing page] Nathan heading up perfect white granite on the Crescent Towers. [This page, left] A crowded belay clmbing as a team of three. [Right] Tim Gibson leading on bullet granite with perfect weather. Chris Barlow ly holdless slab ending with a dynamic kick-through ninja move into the next crack. After the supposed rappel route didn’t materialize, we scrambled, rappelled, and elbow-glissaded back to the base, again descending to camp at sunset. Nathan’s words summed it up best: “There aren’t any easy jugs in the Bugaboos.” We headed back to the Crescent Glacier and Applebee Campground where we had left the rest of our food and equipment. We’d been in the Bugs for only ten days and were feeling fortunate for the generally good weather and our success on several big routes. After romping up the incredible Sunshine Crack (IV 5.11) we wanted to push ourselves. We chose The Power of Lard, a steep, challenging line up the Tom Eagan Memorial Wall on Snowpatch Spire which seemed to loom directly over the Applebee campground. We started late to allow the route to go into the shade (and to accommodate another party who had been working the route). After the first 5.8 pitch, the climbing character changes dramatically. Pitch two is a steep, thin corner that pulls around a bulge into another crack system. It took all three of us several falls to work out the bouldery sequence. The next four pitches (5.10+ to 5.11+) each presented brilliant climbing on faces and cracks with sustained moves and great protection. The overhanging finger and hand crack
dihedral of pitch six landed us on a large ledge below one of the more remarkable cracks I’ve seen in my climbing career. From the north end of the ledge, a perfect splitter arcs up the otherwise featureless overhanging wall, disappearing into the skyline. With an Indian Creek-style rack of cams (i.e. lots!), I started up the elegant handcrack. After sixty feet of strenuous handjams, the crack begins narrowing. Twenty more feet of flared fingerlocks brought me, huffing and puffing to a horizontal where I could catch my breath and reflect that to my surprise that I hadn’t fallen yet. I could see the anchors on the ridgeline, a mere fifteen feet above me. I placed some gear and went for it. With some bad fingerlocks, I brought my foot up to an edge. Reaching up for the final jug, my foot popped. While it would have been nice to send the crux pitch, the forty-foot whipper in the evening light was memorable. I finished the pitch and lowered back to the ledge (remember, we’re sport climbers at heart). Lying on the ledge in my exhaustion, I watch Nathan follow the pitch cleanly with disturbing ease. After a rest day, we climbed back up to pitch 2, and following a few attempts, we managed to redpoint the technical 5.12+ pitch. CCAJ 41