what looks like a massive route from below most certainly is. Simul-climbing more of the route and having left the crampons and axes behind would probably have kept our ascent time to ten-hours our less. Hale and I, however, spent the better part of a day ascending this superb route. The climb was highly varied, from splitter corners and parallel sided cracks, to tricky face climbing, and some hard off-widths and squeeze chimneys. On the “Great White Headwall”, we opted to climb a few harder 5.9 and 5.10 varations, which proved to be very thought provoking and required climbing disparat crack systems up the center of the headwall and multiple hanging belays. Twenty or so odd pitches later, we stood on the summit, psyched and tired. On the descent, our ropes got stuck and we were also bombarded by what was probably the worst storm I have ever had the pleasure to be in. Rain, snow, hail, and lightning all arrived in a blinding fury - the type of storm the Howser Tower’s are notorious for unleashing - as we descended the second to last rappel from the bergschrund. We were quickly reminded that the mountains, while often spectacular, can at times leave one cold, wet, scared, and fearing for their life. Hallucinating on the way down, I moved quickly over the glacier, not realizing how far behind Hale was. I began descending to the Col hoping to wait for him, until Hale shouted, “Wrong Col!”. I quickly realized I was trying to descend the deadly Pigeon-Snowpatch Col rather than the less deadly Bugaboo-Snowpatch Col. I rallied back up the glacier to Hale and we quickly descended over the correct bergshrund to Applebee Camp. We arived back to find our tent wind battered and sitting in a small pond. We tried to dry everything before the second wave of the storm rolled through and we ended up going to bed a little wet, confused, and very exhausted. After resting a day, I finally gave into the pain in my foot and counting our lucky-stars, Hale and I decided to cash in on our plans to climb the Sunshine Crack (D+ 5.11) on Snowpatch Spire and the NE Ridge (D 5.8+) of Bugaboo Spire, remembering that there is always a next time. Reminiscing about the trip, I have mixed feelings about climbing in such an inspiring place. When alpine climbing, we often go out looking for the type of solace that only remote mountains can bring. The feeling of occupying what seems like one’s own small corner of world provides an unparalelled adventure. With Applebee Camp sometimes verging on what looked like a tent-laden metropolitan area, I’m not sure it has the same appeal to me as other places I’ve been 44 CCAJ
to or dream of going. I am, however, positively reminded that even in a place as well travelled as the Bugaboos, there are plenty of unknowns and surprises waiting to be found, and that success in the tough game of alpine climbing with someone you barely know can be one of life’s most rewarding experiences. [This page] Nathan and Tim relaxing below Snowpatch Spire at basecamp. The large East face is visible with the namesake snowpatch on the left. Erik Rieger