Bear Creek Spire 13,713 ft, 4180 m North Arete, III, 5.8

by John Lohr

A few years ago we were skiing the bowls at the base of Bear Creek Spire when I saw the flash of color. It was a corner of a tent, or so it seemed, but only a few cm were sticking out. In Greiner's book Wager with the Wind, there is a sobering photo of a shredded tent containing a body found high on Denali. Imagination has a way of taking the vicarious and amplifying it, so all sorts of thoughts raced through our minds, from covering the offending nylon so the poor departed could rest in peace to digging in and finding a map to the Lost Dutchman mine clutched in the mummified death grip of a prospector buried alive by an avalanche off the Spire 100 years ago. Or, maybe it would just be a really nice tent. Think booty. Dig in, boys. And so we did, and so it was.

It developed that there had been a scouting group hiking up near Dade Lake in late fall. Apparently one night a terrible storm arose and the whole group bailed out, leaving, like the Mary Celeste drifting silently on a glassy sea, this perfectly good tent. The poor tent was squashed flatter than a possum on I-5 by its overburden of snow, but we dug it out, bundled it up and dutifully dropped it off at the Rock Creek Winter Lodge on the way out, where we learned the story. They claimed they would give it to its owner.

This ski jaunt had been the first time I had been up the Rock Creek basin, but the beauty of Bear Creek Spire dominating the head of the valley like a Mormon Cathedral at the Hollywood Bowl had inspired me to place in the back of my mind the idea of returning someday to climb the peak. This was reinforced periodically over time by stories that Galen Rowell liked to take prospective girlfriends up the peak and had, in fact, liked the whole activity so much that he had returned again and again. In my mind Galen Rowell is one of the all time studs and I thought if I could go there too I might be able to soak up some aura, perhaps figure out how to take one awesome photograph in my life or, failing that, at least get a list of plush babes out of the summit register.

Fast forward to late summer last year and the long awaited climb was about to become reality. It was uncomfortably hot in the Owens Valley as Annie Stockley and I bounced and ground our way in the Cessna 172 toward Bishop. The scenery is so absolutely spectacular that you have to be really sick not to enjoy it. Although this is quite possible in that plane in that valley, it wasn't all that bad this particular time. The big barf off would come later and not, thankfully, in the plane. Annie amazed by rattling off the names of most of the peaks along the way with the nonchalance of someone who had a lot to say about each familiar landmark but who instead quietly and personally revisited the scenes of old adventures just by thinking of the names of the places.

Judy Rittenhouse, recently migrated to Bishop and hence already a local by California standards, was quick to meet us at the Bishop airport and we piled all the junk into her car and putted off to check out her new digs. I, naturally, was in heaven in the presence of two such lovely, witty, intelligent and beautiful ladies, secure in the knowledge that either one of them could easily haul my miserable bones up the mountain. All thought of Galen's castoffs evaporated like virga as we headed to the Mexican joint for supper and a beer, one of the ladies on each of my manly arms. Even the late night arrival of Dave German and Michael Gordon, unfortunately tipping the balance against my exclusive situation, did nothing to erase the pleasure of that evening.

The next morning, like the modern slugs we are and trying to fit in with Bishop's newly elevated cultural level, we hit the exotic coffee place next to Wilson's for some scones and then set out for the trailhead about 30 miles up the road. The Rock Creek turnoff from 395 is at the end of the climb to 2120 m, above Bishop at Tom's Place. The road ends at Mosquito Flats, just over 3030 m. From Mosquito Flats you have 1060 m to the summit of Bear Creek Spire. If you have been good for the past year, god may reward you with a parking place at Mosquito Flats. Many, you know who you are, have not been very good and will have to drop off your gear and then drive back down the road to stash the car.

It is a classic Sierra hike in, surprisingly almost due south, along the unmaintained trail beyond Long Lake. From time to time you will see Bear Creek Spire dominating the head of the valley. There are several possible choices of route, but generally keeping to the right side of the valley will keep you on a trail of sorts. At the head of the valley get on the ridge on the left and you will soon be at Dade Lake, a great camping spot nearly at the foot of the mountain.

The North Arete is the well defined arete going right up to the summit. To the right of the arete is a low point in the ridge marking the downclimb. There is a small glacier above the lake connecting to the base of the climb. Early in the morning the ice on the glacier and around the lake can be tricky. Keep in mind that a slide into the lake loaded down with gear could be your last swim. This bothered me more than the others. Maybe I'm a weenie.

We set up camp and Dave and Michael decided to climb the unnamed peak 12,966 to the left, foolishly leaving me alone with the ladies. We could hear their chatter as they hiked while Judy began to get sick and Annie made fun of me for having brought deodorant. So much for the ladies. I was really pooped upon reaching Dade Lake and it did seem kind of silly to be thus equipped despite my excuse that I had just thrown a bunch of random stuff together after another trip. At least I didn't have a cell phone and she didn't discover my nosehair clippers and other stuff that uncivilized people think are superfluous.

By morning Judy had finished barfing and I had begun. This was good for me, since Judy carried my rope after I got hopelessly behind on the trapse up to the climb. If you are going to go for sympathy, timing is everything. I was all set to bail on the whole thing, but the first pitch was so much fun that I soon forgot to barf anymore and began to enjoy the place.

We climbed in two groups. Annie led me and Dave led Judy and Michael, who simulclimbed on two parallel ropes. Annie and I left crampons and big boots at the base of the climb and climbed with short axes on our belts. This worked surprisingly well. The others were without crampons and left their axes behind, although they took approach shoes up the climb. If I had it to do over, I would try to get Judy also to carry my approach shoes. All of us were well equipped compared to the guy who had borrowed a stove and matches from us the evening before and had claimed to be planning to do the climb. Now, that's a scam artist. The first pitch is a very enjoyable 5.8 hand crack to a comfortable belay stance. Launch off this stance to the right up some 5.7 flakes to an awkward move back to the left to get to the second belay. The next pitch or maybe two are easy low 5s to get you psyched for the crux. From the 4th belay, boogie to the left around a corner to an off width with an exit to the left. This turned out to be easier than it looked, but it was a bit intimidating at first glance. After this pitch Annie made me simulclimb and she even let me lead a while. I had next to no experience simulclimbing, particularly with the impressive exposure, but the going really was pretty easy on knobs, ledges and troughs. At several points you traverse around towers and there are at least two tunnels that take you to the opposite side of the arete, which is a little bit like taking the train to the Italian Cinque Terre, where you get off the train in a tunnel and pop into a little Italian town clinging to the rock above the Mediterranean.

When you finally get to the summit, your manliness still has one test remaining, as the summit block has huge exposure and one final easy move to mount it. At this point you can ride it like a wimp or stand up like, well, a Judy. The summit register with Rowell's list is at the base of the block.

Just below the summit block, but not visible unless you climb down a bit on the northwest side, is a solid rap station that gets you to a steep talus slope leading to a sandy flat that takes you to the notch in the ridge above the glacier. We did it as a double rope rappel, but, more creatively, one can either downclimb 4th class rock or do a single rope rappel to get off. The glacier is tricky in climbing shoes, but Annie steamed over to the base of the climb, soloed up a scary crack and retrieved our stuff, meeting me on the glacier, where I put on crampons and became, once again, a mountain man. We were back at the tents happy as clams by 5:00, making it just about a 10 hour day. The route is excellent Sierra granite the whole way and a relatively light rack will be enough.

The next day we hiked out in very pleasant weather which belied the turbulence and headwinds we would later encounter on the flight down the Owens Valley. It turned out that nothing was going on at Edwards AFB, so we were able to fly along the familiar 395 and I-15 route home, which usually is part of the Edwards restricted area. The Kramer Junction solar plant was interesting from the air as were the huge mines that lie hidden in the hills just off the highway. It must be fun to return from orbit on the shuttle and see those same terrestrial sights. It continues to amaze me that some people prefer to rape the vast expanses of real estate which are required to generate folksy amounts of electricity when you do it with solar or wind compared with central generation. The comparison between a site like San Onofre, barely visible from the air and the Tehachapi windmills or Kramer Junction solar panels is striking, particularly if you are thinking about making steel.

If you are looking for a great climb in the High Sierra, Bear Creek Spire may be your piece of granite. It didn't get in the Sierra Classics book of Moynier and Fiddler, from which the topo was stolen, for nothing. Although it is rated 5.8, most of the pitches are exposed but much easier than 5.8, affording solid protection. Nevertheless, the climb combines a camp at a high mountain lake, a glacier approach, a stellar line, some unique idiosyncrasies like the tunnels and a spectacular view from the top. Take your special friend. Don't forget to sign the register.

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A Los Alpinistas story by John Lohr. Photos courtesy of John Lohr and Andy Gale (some of the photos are hyperlinked to a series of larger photos -- try clicking on them)