We arrived early enough to give two of my climbing buddies a chance to look around what may be the greatest climbing/skiing/outdoor gear store east of the Mississippi, Outdoor Gear Exchange.

As we walked in, our eyes fixed toward the climbing department, Robin nudged me and pointed to the bench we stood beside. There sat the man himself, reading books near the store entrance.

We introduced ourselves, chatted a bit – then returned him to his peace and quiet, but not before posing with him on the bench.

The ice wall, about 1 hr east of Rt. 28.

We parked at the Sawyer Mtn. trailhead, walked across Route 28 into the woods, and after crossing a snowmobile trail, began descending gently toward what the guidebook described as an awful conifer swamp. Before dropping into the dark depths there, however, we cut off a bit north, holding our elevation and eventually swinging onto the ridge without much trouble.

Mike and Mammut pose with one of the boulders we passed.

Within 30 minutes, we were standing under the main cliffs of Ledge Mtn. There is some real potential here. The climbing possibilities build up as you go upslope, from boulders scattered along the hillside, to short ledges, to small faces that trend taller as you approach the uppermost tiers, which are over 100′ tall. It was impressive. The rock was pretty clean, and facing the sun, so they were dry enough to climb – if we had brought our rock shoes. A few possible mixed lines lured us toward them, but we had precious little in our rack: a few QDs, one long runner, some Tri-Cams and chocks. The only plausible ascents with that gear were scruffy gullies, of which there were a few, but rather than invest the time in that, we chose to continue onward. We had seen in the distance one more promontory, a conifer-topped knob, and wanted to see what vertiginous acreage might lie there.

The cliffs petered out, transformed into steep sidehills with the occasional ravine cutting into the slope. We traipsed along with our focus on reaching the knob, when one of the ravines proved to have an upper hollow where a hidden wall of ice lay. It wasn’t tall, but then we only had 2 ice screws. It was fat enough to gear up for, so we did just that.

It turned out to be a nice, 45′ tall grade 3 route, although frightfully hollow at the base and pretty much bare rock at the top. In between, plenty of fat ice, enough for my one 19cm screw even; though I doubt it would have held a fall.

Our climbing hunger sated, we packed up and moved on. It wasn’t much farther and we came to the knob. Capped by spruce or balsams, there were specks of open rock among the green, but those trees were growing willy-nilly almost everywhere, including the near-vertical sides of the knob. We noticed a very steep cliff at the base of the knob, but chose to walk around its north side to check for higher, drier possibilities.

We had to ascend quite a bit as we continued east, but never did find any cliffs there. Eventually, we decided to cut south, check out that side, and begin heading back. We climbed to the top of the ridge and began descending the opposite slope, when to our surprize, the side of the mountain fell away suddenly. We stood on the verge of a 100+’ tall cliff, with a 140′ rope. And a dog. We headed east some more, realizing by now that it would mean more terrain to cover on the way out. At least down there, far below, we saw open terrain, an ice-covered beaver vly. Just a bit farther east was Rock Pond. I figured we were 2 1/2 miles into the trip by now, and would have to cover that much or more to get back to the car.

Two weary bushwhackers finally dragged themselves out of the woods 2 hours later, accompanied by one perennially-peppy dog. It was a long hike, a short ice climb, and a great fun day to explore.

He’s also the consummate climbing bum, the paragon of the species, if you will. He started climbing back in the days when it wasn’t just considered weird or insane, it just plain wasn’t considered. He lived in a car, in a tent, crashed on couches across America, did whatever it took to pursue his passion without distractions. He climbed through the eras when climbing came into social observation, first as abherrent behavior, then as fringe element, and finally as fad. He didn’t climb with sponsors supplying his every need, didn’t climb any way or any thing to satisfy the Facebook crowd.

He’s also 90 years old. And still climbing.

You have a chance to meet this guy. He will be chatting with climbers and signing book/s this Sunday at the Mountaineer in Keene Valley. He will be speaking at the Northwoods School in Lake Placid. And he will be speaking at Outdoor Gear Exchange in Burlington VT on the 21st.

Our paths have crossed a couple times. Fred is personable, gentle, and fascinating. You may not see thrilling videos of narrow escapes and wild climbing moves, but you will be caught up by the passion of our sport exemplified in Fred’s experiences. If you can make one of these events, don’t miss it.

We met Bruce Monroe there, already tuggin’ a line on Jeff Loves Eileen. This would be Bruce’s first climbing since the onset of a hip injury way back in September. He did fine, experienced no real problems, and even tied into the sharp end and led the route!

We saw a few other familiar faces there as well: Justin, the man who organized the Southern Adirondack Festival back in 2011, and Mitch, who seems to get around a lot, at least where climbing is concerned. We also met a couple new folks, Kevin and JP, who had come along from Mexico with Mitch, and were sampling a bit of NY-style climbing.

With rain and continuous 40-degree temps in the forecast, I’m putting the ice tools away. Soon, the wire brushes will come out of storage and I’ll be poking around Crane’s cliffs, looking for that next great project…

I’ve been cussing this late snow-dump since it came, swamping paths and curtailing exploration as the season winds down. It has, however, provided a protective blanket that is preserving low-angle ice. The Waterfall Wall has decent ice…below a lot of snow. It’s more of a mountaineering route than ice route right now. I had to head to the Tempest variation in order to justify two tools, and there I found thoroughly sun-baked, rotten ice. I had to chop through 6 or 7 cm of ice to reach trustworthy material.

I did not bother going beyond the first pitch; it was totally swathed in snow. Both the uppermost pitch and Fifi’s are visible from the ridge, but I expect both are highly sun-baked. I wouldn’t recommend leading either one.

Hard telling how much longer it will last. I’m guessing it will be good through this weekend, but be out before the next.

I’ve been extremely lax about posting updates in the past two weeks. A lot went down, including a trip to Hoffman Notch with Jason Brechko, more FAs on Starbuck with the usual motley crew, and one more FA on Black Mountain with Todd Paris. I hope to post some “backlogs” on these.

ROCK SEASON IS COMING!!!

I had the opportunity to hike to the top of the ridge. There are tendrils of ice here and there, but nothing notable enough to warrant the steep terrain to reach it. The view is nice, with open vistas to the southwest, west, and northwest. In better ice conditions – perhaps a low-snow, early January day – it might be nice to climb a line below, then link up to some of the better bits and pieces to finish with the vista from the ridgetop for an “alpine” climb.

Returning to my friends, they had shared TRs and were packing up to move along. We all headed toward Starbuck Left to see what was left to snag. Tom grabbed a chance to climb the short, steep ice route left of Ben’s first ice lead. I wandered over to the main slabs, which were a couple hundred meters farther along. These slabs form the right side of the main climbing of Starbuck Left. They had been fully covered with ice on our first-ever visit, but were now mostly open, wet rock. We’ll have to get to these early next season.

However, there was one line that looked feasible yet. A ribbon of ice clung to the slab, sheltered somewhat by the left-facing corner system it hugged as it curled upward to a final fat headwall, where the thick ice ran up just right of a gigantic hanging block at the top of the cliff. I set up to rope-solo this line, and had made it past the headwall when Todd and Tom arrived and offered a real belay. Good thing, too: the exit moves were tricky. But there is now a 160′ WI 3+ here. I just gotta name it!

Finally, we rappelled part way down the cliff to climber’s right of the new route, and TR’d a slab with a longer vertical headwall. That was a hoot. We each chose different paths to reach the headwall, because the slab at the start directly below was ice-free. Todd took the sensible approach, up a brushy iced corner/crack to reach the real ice. Tom wandered way right and climbed a short vertical ice wall. I dry-tooled my way up to the ice, using a crack beneath an overlap.

My goal for the day was mapping the currently-done routes on Starbuck. I did not succeed at doing this. But we did have fun, and put up a couple great routes having it.

After last weekend’s discovery of the ice at (drum rolllll…) Starbuck Mountain, this weekend was sure to bring a crew of interested climbers to the same locale.

Saturday 

When Scott and I pulled in to the snowclad parking at Cleveland Road’s end, Mike, Kris, Roger, and Ryan were already gearing up, and Lukasz’ parked car was mute testimony that Ben and he had already gone in. We grabbed our gear and began marching toward the latest ice kingdom.

Scott cleans our first route of the day – and another FA to boot. 

When Scott and I reached Starbuck Central, we chose a line for warming up. The main face is the most alluring, but it is also badly baked out. The fat flow to the left was in fine condition, but Mike was setting up to lead that for his friends. However, a rock rib clove that flow near its right end, providing a fat slice of ice that draped down, covering an overhang with a vertical, shining white curtain. That would do.

With the main face of Starbuck Central behind him,
Roger sets out on the crux of his first ice climb ever.

It was challenging, but we were up to the challenge. Scott and I climbed the line, then tied Roger in for his first-ever ice climb. He had an afternoon appointment, so he didn’t have much time to try the sport. How would he do, wearing mountaineering crampons on soft leather boots and wielding tools for the first time? As it turns out, very well.

 
Ah! The thrill of victory. Roger went out that day and bought ice gear.

After Roger’s successful initiation, Ryan pulled our anchor. Scott and I packed up, eager to move on, catch up with Ben and Lukasz, see new ice, and maybe snag a few more FAs. I’m told Roger went out and bought ice gear later that day. Seems another addict added to the enclave.

Starbuck Right.

We hiked less than ten minutes west to Starbuck Right, where we caught up with the criminals in action. Lukasz had just led his second FA of the day, complex series of overlapping curtains near the left side of the area. He had already climbed a narrow winding band of ice to the right, a stout-looking piece he dubbed Vanilla Latte. Both his lines were very tempting, and one untouched line looked like it might hold together long enough for a send, but I had wanted to explore farther east, across the ravine to the flanks of Black Mountain, and realized we might not have time to do that if we tarried here.

Looking back at Starbuck Right. Vanilla Latte is, I believe, the
line just left of center. The other “done” lines are to its left.

So we waved good-bye to Lukasz and Ben and moved on. It’s a bit of a slog, crossing the ravine that separates these two mountains. A private land boundary hugs the slopes just barely below Starbuck Right, so we had to stay high and walk sidehill for awhile before descending to the low point between them. In the hollow, we strapped on snowshoes; after postholing a few times, it seemed the wise choice.

For ten minutes, then fifteen, we saw little ice of interest. Here and there, a trace of something that might-have-been hinted at what the broken crags above might offer earlier in a good season, but nothing was remotely “in” anymore. About 20 minutes from Starbuck Right, we turned a corner and ran into Black Mountain’s westernmost ice. A wide swathe of easy ice led to a short, steep top-out. I’d hoped for something a bit more challenging, but looking down the mountainside, saw nothing obvious.

Scott stood by the flow while I made that inspection farther, and by the time I returned, he had made a decision. He wanted to lead the route. I hesitated at this idea. Scott had never led anything before. While he is strong – a stronger gym climber than I am – his technical skills are just beginning to develop. He hasn’t worked with rock gear much at all – had never touched a cam until our recent mixed routing day - so I wasn’t enthusiastic at first. But Scott has done a lot of ice climbing, and followed a lot of leads. He knows how to place and remove screws, and we’ve talked in depth about ice quality and balance stances and all the other important aspects. I looked over the route again.

 
Scott sets out on his first lead ever.

Scott wanted this. I would be taking something away to lead it myself, and would gain little challenge from it. In the end, we both agreed that he would sew up that upper portion and take it real carefully all the way up. After one more reminder that in ice climbing, the simple rule “Thou shalt not fall” always applies, and Scott racked screws, quickdraws, slings, and ‘biners.

Nearing the crux of his first lead, and an FA to boot!

Suffice to say, he did admirably. He climbed the bottom without a problem, and made it through the headwall, despite a slight glitch of Z-clipping at the last of three screws there. At that potential debacle, he stayed calm, reached down, and solved the problem, all the while remaining solid on firmly-planted tools and feet. He was ecstatic once he stood safely on top.

I cleaned his lead, checking each placement along the way. He’d done a good job. None of the screws hit rock, all the placements were as good as the available ice could offer, and we were both alive and unharmed. What more can you ask for?

While Scott led his route, Ben put up another next door.

Ben and Lukasz had caught up to us while Scott racked. Ben had led a narrower, steeper line just right of ours, then the two had continued scrambling upward. We hurried to catch up, but they had disappeared.

We scrambled up an easy gully system – all leaves and trees, snow and a patch of ice here and there – to the top of a narrow ridge. Cresting this, we found a small ravine across and, across it, a formidable short wall of ice draped over a series of large overhangs. Lukasz was already standing at the top of one, belaying Ben up another FA. Can’t keep up with those two!

We ran over, found ourselves a decent-looking line, and climbed it. There are a lot of good possibilities here, but for many, it is too late this season. Couch-sized blocks of ice litter the slopes below; apparently the ice is so narrowly-attached to the overhang that the intense solar radiation it receives makes it questionable. Lukasz had snagged the most-secure fat ice. We snagged a mixed corner leading to a narrow plume of fat ice well-snuggled in a rock dihedral.

Scott poses on the ridgetop. Moxham Mtn. lies in the background.

After this, it was time to go tourist. Lukasz and Ben had already done that bit and were descending. Their early start left them hungry and tired, so they were ready to head all the way outward. We waved good-bye once more and turned uphill. It was an easy scramble to the top. We walked around, enjoying the view, which takes in the mountains to the southeast, southwest, and northwest; the Hudson River as it winds past the Barton Mines Plant, and the valley leading south toward North Creek.

Looking down at the Barton Hudson River Plant

The sun was getting low, and we had a lot of descending to do. At the bottom, we judged it too late to attempt any more, although we passed a temptingly easy enough nugget as we headed back to our packs. It would be a long, tortuous slog as we attempted to cut directly across to Route 28 from Black Mountain – don’t do this! – but we got back without needing headlamps.

We passed up this grade 2ish line on our way back to our packs.

For those intending to explore Black Mountain, there is a lot more to discover. I visited the mountain’s eastern flank a couple years ago, and found a great small flow. Nearby, lay several options that might be good early in the season, and there is at least one other tight-flanked ravine running up the mountain between our latest exploration and my earlier one. I did not see anything of note on a walk up the ravine separating this mountain from Starbuck, but I didn’t go all the way up. Who knows? There may be plenty more new ice to climb.

Sunday

Lukasz and I were the only returning climbers the next day. Lukasz showed intense motivation by arriving in the morning; I took a more casual approach and joined him by 1 o’clock. He had kept busy, soloing a route or two and ice-bouldering up the short steep pillars at the base of Light’n'Sweet. We looked up at the main face of Starbuck Central and decided there was one line at least not too baked out to try.

It was a close thing, but barely secure enough for the moment. After tucking another FA under our belts, we were anxious to try something well out of our comfort zones. Lukasz in particular was drawn to a line that led from relatively ice to a steep, bare rock gap. An overhang blocked the way, but a hanging pile of ice offered escape – if we could reach it.

Suffice to say, this was a blast. I never managed the feat, falling off repeatedly as I tried to reach the transition point; but Lukasz pulled it off twice. After his second shot, we both felt satisfied with the weekend’s fare. Who wouldn’t be?

Oh yeah.

February is exploratory month: I try to use every weekend for scouting out new areas for possible white gold. It isn’t easy drumming up partners to endure the usual long approaches with questionable outcomes, but today both Ben and Mike were game. Mike and I had discussed a bunch of places, but when he suggested one that has long been on my list of “must-checks”, it was settled. Ben, relatively new to the ice game, was game to come along.

Today, we hit the jackpot. Perhaps the most incredible boon is that the ice is within 20 minutes of the road. For the Southern Adirondacks, that’s almost unheard of close. But there’s also plenty of ice, a lot of it lying between grade 2 and 4- difficulty. This is an area on par with Chapel Pond Canyon for the number of parties who could climb here.

Downsides? Like most Southern Adirondack ice, it faces south. By this time of year, it is starting to get burned out; with the series of thaws we’ve had, many of these lines had fallen at least once. We could tell by the giant ice chunks lingering at their bases that many of the flows here had been much larger a month ago. And most of the climbs are short. We did seven routes (depending on what you count as a route), ranging between 60 and 120′ long, most in the 60 to 80′ range.

A Corner on Every Starbucks, WI 3

We saw ice as soon as we hit the mountainside, but opted to walk to the far left end of the available ice before picking a climb. Very nearly the last good gasp of ice also looked the most welcoming, so we jumped on it. A large right-facing rock corner held a meter-wide ribbon of ice that appeared fat enough to hang on better than its sunburned neighbors, a few of which large parts were crashing off from while we climbed.

This first line was not well-bonded, but a few key cracks in the corner to my left allowed bomber gear in all but one tricky spot. The screws I placed there would probably not have held much more than body weight – if that. Still, it was an enjoyable route, and no doubt fatter in better conditions. It’s also steep enough to be largely free of snow cover, which is a good thing.

Before we left that area, we also climbed the easy staircase of ice that diverges left from our first line. This is just visible in the photo.

 
Mike starting out on the FA of Fuzzy Kittens, WI 2. His line ran up
just right of the tree and continued diagonally up the fat ice.

Moving on, we came to a fat flow running down a slab left of another right-facing corner system, this one on lower-angled rock, forming a sort of gully. Mike opted to take the sharp end for this one, and was soon whooping it up as he met ice fat enough to sink 19cm screws easily. A short while later, and he belayed both of us up the 120′ pitch. Looking to the right, I think one could climb the gully at WI 1 or maybe 2-, but the fat ice Mike took was much more enjoyable, even with a raspberry briar or two at the topout.

Curtain Call, WI 4-, 75′ 

Close to this route, I spied a tiered set up thinly-iced steps leading to a vertical curtain, and decided that would be worth a shot. Of course, it turned out to be much scarier up close than it had when we were comfortably distant from it, but we all managed to get up without a fall. It was easier than it looked, though still challenging.

Ben on his first ice lead – and first ice FA

A bit farther right, a short, fat flow beckoned. Ben had never led ice before, but was well aware of the cardinal rule (Thou shalt not fall!), and knowing his prowess on rock, both Mike and I judged this flow a good starter. He had already shown himself capable with the ice screws, so we geared him up let him at it. I’d expected him to take the easiest path up, but Ben decided to run straight up the steepest drapery on this otherwise mild flow. It didn’t hurt, of course, that his 6’9″ reach allowed him to place a screw above the tallest step before making the move. Oh to be tall…

While he led that direct line, I soloed up the easiest bit to his right. Not sure whether this counts as an independent FA or an FAVariation, but it’s probably a rare event to have the easier line climbed after the direct one.

Last Light, WI 3+, 90′

We were by now running low on daylight. While Mike cleaned Ben’s lead, I walked farther right to look over other possibilities. Like a kid in a candy shop, I had a hard time choosing. Fat flows, skinny threads, steep, easy…it seemed the farther I went the better things got. I’d already walked quite a ways from Ben and Mike, and finally decided I had to stop wandering and grab something. A fat, easy flow lay to my left, another flow, this one with a steep tier at its top, beckoned just a tiny bit farther right. I chose the latter.

It turned out to have some skinny ice to start, a large ledge below a first vertical step, and finally a couple great stances just below and beside that upper vertical bulge. The sun set as I topped out. Mike had soloed up the lower third, so he tied in and soon stood with me, snapping sunset shots with his iPhone. Ben came up almost as rapidly. After a few more photos, we rappelled to our packs, gathered our gear, switched headlamps on, and made the 20 minute trek back to Mike’s car.

On my last walk up to the Northeast Cascade, I took some time to look around. This year’s decent ice and low snowcover (right now) make it easy to spot potential ice routes, and I saw plenty during that walk. With this weekend’s impending storm promising piles of fluff, I got antsy to put some of that potential in the books. With no calls this morning, I was free to put legs on that energy. Tom was in, Ben might be in, and so too might Todd. A foursome would be wonderful, I thought, and began packing gear.

Three White Rappers

We didn’t get four, in fact by 10am only Tom had arrived. We packed up and hustled out, assuming it would be just us. Despite their tempting looks, we scurried past the Waterfall Wall and the Northeast Cascade, heading directly to what I thought would be the best, most-likely prospect. Tom and I had explored the neighboring Caterpillar Cliff late last autumn, and used a wet corner system to rappel down after doing so. True to form, that dampness makes for plentiful ice in the winter.

I was already setting out when we heard the voice of one crying in the wilderness nearby. Todd came upslope to join us, having arrived at my house a bit after we left. He brought a rope along, so now we could all get in on the FA.

Tom came scurrying up the route soon after I reached a good belay tree. He untied and went wandering over toward the Caterpillar Cliff to see if any ice lay in the deep crevice.

Todd cleaned the gear, and soon stood with me in the sunshine. We’d all made speedy ascents, so there was plenty of time for more. We’d planned earlier to TR the 50′ vertical ice left of our route, but I was psyched to find more fresh ice.

We rappelled to our gear and, while Tom and Todd grabbed a snack, I hacked my way northward farther. I wanted a look at Caterpillar Cliff’s north side to see what was there. Coming around the low corner and walking up along the gently overhanging, orange face, I could see ice in the steep corner at its top, but far above that, I saw a lot of ice. A small outcrop blocked my view of the lower slopes, so I kept walking up and right. Sure enough, that fat ice flowed down to my feet around the bend of that rock. Bingo.

By the time Todd and Tom got around the Caterpillar Cliff, I was tied in and up the first few meters. The ice swept up, through a screen of oak brush, then opened up into a wide swathe of blue. Clambering up onto the expanse, I realized it was pretty low angle. Not quite easy enough to switch to piolet cane, but a bit awkward en traction. Oh well, I could see steeper ice ahead, and everywhere was fat enough for screws – real screws, not stubbies – so it was great to be there.

Todd had only a few minutes left before having to run, so he tied in and climbed immediately. He noticed the low-angle stretch, but livened up getting through the vertical bit at the top.

Soon he was posing for the obligatory top-out shot, and almost as rapidly waving good-bye as I lowered him. He reached the bottom and packed as Tom tied in for his turn. He too made a quick show of reaching the top, despite having chilled a bit as he waited. Todd had sprung a leak in the flow as he punched his way up, and I noticed the rope ran right through the dribble. The rope was getting frosted.

We didn’t hang out long. The sun was sneaking behind the mountain and a stiff breeze had begun. It would take a couple rappels to get down, and with an ice-coated rope, it would take awhile to work it through the belay devices.

Tom was ready to call it a day, so we began walking south. Peering up at those easy flows between our first send of the day and Northeast Cascade. I didn’t want the upcoming snow to hide it for another season, so I decided to climb it before heading out.

This turned out to be one of the nicer climbs of the day. Only about 100′ high, and no view to speak of, but solid, consistent grade 2 ice. Only a short speck of easy the entire way, uncloaked by snow, it’s recommended. It’s called Gem’n'I.

Done with that, I rappelled, and decided to look at the line farther left. Hard to say – the beginning looked great, but I couldn’t see past it. Onward!

I headed up, and found that after 25′, the line eased off into a snowy ramp. A bit lengthier flow lay above, so I kept going. Once again, slightly interesting ice petered out quickly, and more snow ramp…but I saw more ice again above that. That was interesting; but short once again. Finally, above that I saw no more compelling ice to chase – and it was getting late. This route was the ugly sibling of the day, but at 300′, the longest. I wouldn’t promote it as a major addition to Crane’s ice list, but at least it was done. I dubbed it, simply, Ramps.

I rappelled, packed up, and headed home. The sun sank beside me as I trudged wearily home.

New Routes!
Described (climber’s) left to right, which is also south to north

Ramps WI2 300′
Location: About 100 meters right of Northeast Cascade, at a shallow gully right of a large, right-facing corner system running rightward up the mountain.
Climb up the best looking ice until it peters out, then continue up the snow ramp to belay at any handy tree. Head up to another patch of ice. Climb that to another snow gully, and above that, a final, interesting bit of ice, climbing right along its base to reach an easy ramp heading up to thinner ice before topping out right of a clump of hemlocks.

Gem’n'I WI2 105′
Location: 100′ right of Ramps; the flow running up along the left edge of a rock rib.
Climb up flow to the top. Rappel off trees, or work down and (skier’s) right.

Three White Rappers WI 3- 115′
Location: 200 meters right of Northeast Cascade, in the corner formed by a giant right-facing corner system running up the mountainside. Parties must negotiate the left edge of a talus field of boulders in order to reach the base of this route.
Climb an iced ramp with a white birch at its base to a large ledge with an oak tree (possible belay) beneath a 50′ high vertical wall. Climb up along the corner, working right to get around a curtain, up a steep slab to a final steep bit before topping out on another large, sloping ledge. Descend via rappel.
Note: the vertical face would make great top-roping, and can be easily reached from the top of this route.
FA: 07 Feb 2013 Jay Harrison, Tom Lane, & Todd Paris

Whiteshade WI3+ 210′
Location: 200 meters right of TWR, around the bend of Caterpillar Cliff, which is the overhanging, orange cliff sitting high above the talus pile. This is approximately 200 meters left of Leap of Faith. Parties must negotiate the talus field to reach this route. This is best done by either a scramble directly up toward the corner of Caterpillar Cliff, or by walking up along the field’s northern edge (this latter approach starts at the same point as the one for LoF).
Climb up and left toward a gap in a screen of oak saplings, onto a steep field of fat ice. Climb up to a final headwall of near vertical, chandeliered ice and belay in the trees. Descend via two rappels, going (skier’s) right.
FA: 07 Feb 2013 Jay Harrison, Todd Paris, & Tom Lane

It’s fatter than I’ve ever seen it before. The right side is its usual easy romp, but I was able to ride the right edge of the roof system to the left of the main slab, up a 10′ tall, thick curtain spilling over the top. Heavily cauliflowered at the bottom and chandeliered on the vertical, but solid enough for good sticks as long as I kept to the right verge. I would’ve climbed the left corner – it is so fat, it would’ve been easily stemmed up – but it was soaking wet in there.

The 25′ Vertical Wall seems a bit anemic this season. 

I would’ve climbed the left face, but I’m a weak-kneed chicken.

After topping out, I wandered up the streambed that feeds it, which is currently WI1 but will soon be under snow. I went looking for magical big ice, but didn’t find any. Knew that already. I’ve been here before. But I did get to climb a couple 20′ flows, one of which is nearly vertical, so I managed to get the daily dose of terror before regaining my senses and heading home.

Terrible picture, I know, but here’s an untouched line, with a long vertical swathe beside it

I did take a quick walk farther north, and there’s a lot of ice to be had there. Sadly, much of it will be blanketed in fluff very soon. Hopefully, a couple of us can get back there tomorrow and snag something new before the snow flies.