Time To Walk Away

You may have already seen the shattering news. Three climbers lost their lives this last Sunday, February 19. They were swept away in a slab avalanche while climbing Colchuck Peak via the NE Couloir. The headlines grabbed my attention as I know the area well. I had previously climbed the North Face of Dragontail Peak, the larger peak next to Colchuck. And, in late September of 2019, our group of old climbing partners camped at Colchuck Lake where we wistfully gazed at both Dragontail and Colchuck. I still entertained the thought that I might yet climb Colchuck, but via the easier Colchuck Glacier route in the spring after the snow had time to consolidate. I could still do that in my currently fit early 70s I told myself.

When I heard of these recent deaths on Colchuck, I rediscovered an old sadness, the sadness that comes after fatal mountaineering accidents. The devastating loss of climbing friends and acquaintances is always perplexing, even when you know the reasons why. In reflecting on this latest news, I thought their situation and the consequences were unnecessary. They were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time on a challenging and unforgiving route. Having traveled from the east coast over the holiday weekend, they seemed determined to climb in that tight window of time. Any climbing team that travels to a distant destination puts themselves in the position of committing to random weather conditions. As my friend David Stevenson recently reflected, in that situation on-site judgment often takes a backseat to the original plan. The climbers may have been quite mountain fit and technically skilled, but their choices suggest a lack of local mountain knowledge and a blind eye towards cruelly changing weather conditions and unstable snow. And, even if the risky ascent was somehow successful, a potential descent route back down the Colchuck Glacier would be similarly exposed to the same dangerous and potentially life-threatening conditions.

The likelihood of a slab avalanche that day was moderate to high. New relatively cohesive snow stacked over a less cohesive weak layer is a prime recipe for a break that sends one cohesive unit of snow down a slope with the velocity and mass of a freight train. If you are looking for an indiscriminate killer in the mountains, the slab avalanche is it. I read somewhere that the lead climber initiated the break with his ice axe. I can only imagine his horror as the slab broke loose.

As someone with experience climbing the snow-covered peaks of the Cascades, I know that a basic rule is to wait for the right conditions before attempting any route. In winter climbing, sometimes the right conditions never materialize in any given season. And to ignore that would be to court disaster. And, court disaster they did.

They were a team of six. That's another bad idea. The ideal rope team for a steep snow or ice couloir is two climbers. I have climbed both the sensational Black Ice Couloir on the Grand Teton and the steep Stuart Glacier Couloir, each time with one rope mate. It is a better way to make progress quickly, and speed is often a key asset in the mountains. I remember the Stuart Glacier Couloir because that route is physically quite similar to the one on Colchuck. While Colchuck Peak sits beside Dragontail at the head of Colchuck Lake, it is part of the greater Stuart Range and separated from Mount Stuart by only Sherpa and Argonaut peaks. They are nearby neighbors.

Fred Beckey lists Colchuck Peak's NE Couloir route as "a narrow 45% snow couloir (perhaps icy), Grade II Class 3.” By comparison, he describes the Stuart Glacier Couloir, “This extremely alpine route should only be done under ideal conditions. Crampons, hard hats, and at least four ice screws are recommended. Grade III Class 5” (From his Cascade Alpine Guide: Climbing and High Routes Columbia River to Stevens Pass.)

SummitPost.com lists the Stuart Glacier Couloir route under Major North Side Routes and describes it as “Grade III Class 5 + with snow and/or ice to 60 degrees. The route ascends the obvious main couloir above Stuart Glacier. Most of the route is 40 to 50 degrees. The crux is a very narrow section of the couloir about halfway up that frequently involves about 100 feet of water ice up to 60 degrees. The route tops out at or near the small notch on the West Ridge Route. The exit rocks are low class 5 on the normal finish and about 5.7 on the left side variation. There is additional low class 5 climbing on the West Ridge to the summit.”

Both couloir routes are very similar in terms of structure and challenges. But the big takeaway is that Fred Beckey cautions only attempting the Stuart Glacier Couloir under ideal conditions. And because of both their proximity and similarities, neither route should ever be attempted in anything less than ideal conditions.

Climbing.com reported on February 22, “Details about the exact nature and cause of the avalanche are still emerging, but we do know that on February 19, the Northwest Avalanche Center’s avalanche forecast for the Colchuck Peak area (part of their East Central region) was “moderate.” That day’s forecast did note, however, that there was significant wind-slab risk at higher elevations and the avalanche hazard would spike by that evening: from “moderate” through “considerable” to “high.” But because the climbers had been in the backcountry for multiple days and were not traveling with devices capable of connecting to satellite internet, they did not have access to updated snow conditions. None of the climbers, according to UPI, had any formal avalanche training, and none were carrying beacons.”

I suggest that the climbers did not need updated snow conditions from an internet source to evaluate their situation. Why? Because they were right there, next to the peak, seeing and physically experiencing the snow and weather. I submit that their situation came down to both a lack of knowledge and impetuousness. Either they didn’t understand the import of the unstable and worsening conditions and decided to attempt the route according to their original plan, or they did notice the deteriorating conditions and proceeded in spite of them. Probably the latter. A willful decision. Back in the day, I noted a condition that could have great sway on alpine decision-making. It was like a fever. I called it “Summititus.” Rational judgment would simply go out the window because the lure of the summit overpowered all conscious thought. It happened with people that I had climbed with. Somehow, in those situations, I seemed immune to the condition and lived to climb another day. The American Alpine Club will undoubtedly publish this NE Couloir story in their 2023 Accidents in North American Mountaineering. Then we’ll have more information and a thorough analysis of what went wrong.

Unfortunately, only the survivors will have a chance to learn something from it. Instead of betting the farm, it would have been a far better choice to acknowledge the increasingly dangerous conditions, decide their planned climb wasn’t going to happen on the mountain that Sunday, and simply return to Leavenworth for brats and beer at the München Haus Bavarian Grill and Beer Garden. That would have been way more fun and they would still have a great story to tell. But that didn’t happen.

So, I grind on the terrible news that makes me both angry and sad. I do my emotional handwringing because I know what it’s like to be up there and face the dire possibility of death either from one’s own errors or conditions beyond anyone’s control. Often both. That’s the nature of climbing accidents and we need to pay attention to them. All smart climbers study the accidents to learn what conditions to avoid and what not to do. Those lessons, though painful, are essential. Climbers have to be willing to accept that not every grand plan will result in a successful summit. Accepting the failure to summit is just another facet of the game and will often be the stance that keeps one alive. As with many things in life, you must know when it’s time to walk away.

These photos are from my climb of the Black Ice Couloir, as I have none from my Stuart Glacier Couloir ascent. That story appears in ‘Impressions of Ice,’ a chapter about several climbing adventures on snow and ice that appears in my mountain memoir, Banquet of the Infinite, which is available as an illustrated eBook on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Kobo.