Grand Teton, The North Face

2007

by Larry Sverdup

In recent years I have often gone sport climbing with Mark Hopkins, who typically likes to work on 12b climbs, a little above my comfort rating but I get a good workout pulling on the gear trying to keep up. We are both married with kids of similar age, and occasionally take the families on climbing trips. He has heard all about my 50-classic quest, and eventually agreed to do one with me. From listening to his stories I knew that he has climbed lots of "fourteeners" in Colorado, often in less than ideal conditions, and was no stranger to alpine climbing. When he asked me what was the most challenging route I had left in the lower 48 States, I simply answered the North Face of the Grand.

The Tetons are accessed from the town of Jackson Hole, Wyoming. Perhaps the least expensive way to get to Jackson Hole is to fly to Salt Lake City, rent a car a make a 6 hour drive north. If one can afford the higher fares, there are direct flights into Jackson Hole. A compromise is to fly into Idaho Falls less than two hours away. Due to changing plans, we ended up arriving in different ways.

So on July 20 of 2007, Mark flew into Idaho Falls and spent the better part of a day making numerous connections. I paid more for a later flight into Jackson Hole via Denver, but bad weather in Denver caused me to arrive at midnight, much later than planned. Worse, my luggage failed to materialize, possibly because I used two airlines to minimize costs. My sleeping bag was in the luggage. With the help of the airline baggage person we snagged perhaps the last motel room in Jackson.

The next morning (Friday) we picked up my luggage at the airport, ate breakfast, and drove to the Jenny Lake Ranger station. No permit is required for climbing, but a permit is required for camping and bivying. The closest legal camping on the way to the North Face is Surprise Lake at 9500 foot elevation, where a bear box is provided. The ranger gave us a map with a hand-drawn shortcut back to Surprise Lake from the Garnet Canyon descent trail.

The weather forecast was 10% chance of precipitation Friday and Saturday, 20% on Sunday and 0% chance of thundershowers Saturday evening. I had heard from Teton climbing guides that the highest rate of success on the Grand is from mid-July to mid-August. According to Teton Classics by Richard Rossiter this is at least partially due to the fact that there is generally two weeks with no afternoon thundershowers during that period.

Weather was my greatest concern. The Grand at 13,770 feet elevation is the tallest mountain in the area, and is surrounded by large expanses of plains on both the east and west sides. It is the only significant obstacle to traveling moisture for a considerable distance, from the east and west. My first rock climb in the wild, twenty-four years ago, was the Owen Spalding route on the Grand. On the summit during that climb we noted small puffs of cumulus appearing near the summit. After descending to the lower saddle lightning began to blast the summit where we had been standing in fair skies an hour earlier. On another trip to the Grand the afternoon lightning was so prolonged and intimidating during our hike in that we decided to come back during a calmer weather pattern. But the most startling weather I have witnessed was a microburst that occurred on the evening of July 29, 1995 while we were camped in Garnet Canyon. There was nothing but stars in the sky, and I remember that I could smell smoke from a forest fire somewhere in the distance. A wisp of cloud blew over the upper saddle from the west and shortly all hell broke loose. Our tent was crushed by the wind and several tent poles were broken. Lightning blasted continually along the ridges. Trees were felled all along the trail. A car was crushed by a falling tree in town. A ski shack was blown over with a person inside. The next morning as we hiked out, there were chain saws going everywhere. I wondered if the smoke particles allowed moisture approaching from the west to condense more readily and violently, leading to the microburst.

We drove to the Lupine Meadows trailhead and sorted gear. There is no water source at the trailhead, but luckily Mark had brought a few gallons in the rental car. After discussion, we brought one snow picket and three ice screws in addition to the two light ice axes and crampons. For rock pro we brought a full rack to 3" and numerous shoulder length slings. We would bring bivy gear for the base camp, but only extra warm clothing and full rain gear on the climb. Also, we would climb with one pack rather than two, freeing the leader to do his job without encumbrance. We would climb on two 8mm 60m ropes, allowing long leads and rapid retreat should we have to back off.

High clouds cut the sun as we hiked in. People passing us on their way down the trail remarked that we had chosen a better time for the uphill approach hike. During the hike in we met another pair from Billings and Livingston Montana, also planning to climb the North Face. It turns out that one of them grew up in Columbia Falls, 90 miles from where I went to high school in Libby Montana. We arrived at Surprise Lake shortly before dusk. After scouting the lake, we realized that the campsites and bear box were further up the trail just beyond the lake.

We found what we thought was the bear box and set up camp. In the background I heard boulders moving just above our camp and assumed that someone from another campsite was hiking around. Finally I bothered to look and a rather large black bear was 50 feet from us and moving away. Hurriedly we gathered the food bag and headed for the bear box. The box we had camped next to was, upon closer inspection, padlocked shut and said "No Trespassing, Government Property." It turned out that the real bear box and designated campsites were below us. We filtered 2 gallons of water into four 2-liter soda bottles. Plastic soda bottles weigh nothing, collapse to nothing, can be easily blown back up, and they never leak. One was for camp and the other three for the climb. Standard rations are 3 liters per person per day, so we had water for a full day of climbing. One of the real campsites contained a tent with two fellows also intending to climb the North Face. I mentioned to them that there were at least two other parties. By this time it was getting dark and we got in our bags. It would have been nice to get an early start, but perhaps a good nights rest was more important. We were not going to beat all of the other parties to the start of the climb.

At first light we were up and moving. Ampitheater Lake was just a few hundred feet elevation above Surprise Lake. The trail wound up the hill behind the right hand side of the lake and we contoured up and around onto a ledge system just above the boulders of the moraine. Eventually we bouldered down to the moraine and followed it uphill. We passed a tent, possibly that of the two from Montana. After passing the side canyon northeast of Disappointment Peak we arrived at the Teton Glacier. There was considerable water ice, and I knew that an ice arrest, despite the name, is virtually impossible on water ice. Ice arrests only work on snow, and it was clearly impossible to reach the start of the climb by staying on snow. I read a trip report of the North Face in which a guy slipped on ice and nearly went down to the bottom of the Teton Glacier, but managed to plunge a foot into a crevasse to stop himself. His hand was torn up in the incident. If one might have to do an ice arrest, one has to wear gloves and long sleeves. Icy sections of the glacier were one reason we brought a few ice screws. Mark's boots were not really meant for crampons and it was assumed that I would lead any difficult snow or ice. The reality of the icy glacier with its many crevasses made me look for an alternative. We had both read about parties traversing onto a ledge system on the left to gain the start of the climb, thereby avoiding the glacier.

There was a moat between the glacier and start of the ledge system that Mark thought was deeper than 50 feet. However, one could easily step across the gap, if the edge of the snow did not collapse. We roped up and I pounded in a solid snow picket for a belay. Mark gingerly stepped across onto a narrow sloping muddy ledge, grabbing what hand holds he could, and threw in a few pieces of rock pro as soon as possible. From his vantage point on the ledge, he could see that the snow he had been standing on was undercut by melting. A delicate 15-foot traverse around a corner led to a sidewalk sized ledge that grew wider above. Following with the heavy pack was exciting but straightforward, as Mark had protected the traverse adequately.

Approaching the start of the climb we arrived at a tongue of snow that we decided to cross, rather than climb above. Mark belayed me as I kicked steps in the steep snow, and I protecting myself with the picket on my way to the start of the wall climbing. Meanwhile we encountered the two from Montana rapping off and retreating. They reported scary climbing conditions, either wet and mossy or scant pro. They had ascended the glacier ahead of us, but were now heading back down in a rapid, competent manner. We gave them beta about the ledge system, so they could avoid descending the glacier and reach the easy snow with a single rope rappel. They thought there were two parties in front of them making good time, but the only evidence of other climbers throughout our ascent came from parties on the North Ridge. We never heard or saw anyone above us.

One of the Montanans descending to the end of the ledge system we utilized for the approach. The lower end of the Teton glacier is visible far below.

Then a disturbing development ensued. From high on the mountain a strange sound somewhat like the chorus of a jet engine reached us, followed somewhat later by the explosion of falling rocks impacting the North Face to our right, approximately above the base of the Grandstand. The ramp up the Grandstand from this side was wet and subject to falling rocks. I would not advise it as a way to reach the North Ridge. I have heard falling rocks before. If they spin they make a sound as they fall past. Bigger rocks rotating slower make a lower pitch. I had never heard anything quite like this however. The falling rocks must have had a rolling start. Every fifteen minutes it seemed for about three or four times we heard the whine followed by exploding rocks. Psychologically it was difficult to handle and if it continued I doubted that we would dare to cross the danger zone.

Mark began leading up the face and encountered the difficulties described by the Montana party. Difficulty only seemed to make Mark more determined to succeed. I began to suspect, however, that the Montana party had encountered difficulty because they were off route, and perhaps Mark was off route as well. Mark belayed me down and to the right and I looked around. The climb starts in the second chimney to the left of the base of the Grandstand. Unfortunately, approaching the climb from the ledges on the left, we did not have the opportunity to scope out the start of the route. I leaned over the edge from where I now was and there appeared to be a significant chimney below me. The presence of a wad of rap slings at my position convinced Mark. However, he had to abandon a few pieces to back off and reach my position.

The North Face had gone into the shade, and the falling rock episodes had ceased. I developed a theory that the sun warming snow and ice on the upper North Face had caused the rock-fall, and thus perhaps the rock-fall was limited to the late morning hours when the sun affected the North Face. If true, we did not want to be walking around First Ledge in mid or late morning.

Mark led off directly above me and again encountered difficulties. The next section was steep and, except for a piton, there was not much pro. Mark bulldozed ahead, at one point pulling off a rock the size of a loaf of bread that bounced off the ledge I was standing on. A fragment brushed my leg. Somehow a rock falling from dozens of feet above me seemed insignificant compared to the whistling V2 rockets from high above, and the incident didn't bother me. It did illustrate that no hold was guaranteed. Soon we were on easier terrain, making steady progress, but the route finding was always an issue. We generally moved up and right, but it was often unclear what the optimum route was.

There rock was often loose, and it would not be prudent to follow too closely behind another climbing party. The Teton Classics guide has a route topo with circles marking significant landmarks. For some reason I had imagined the distances between these circles was nominally a pitch. Soon it became clear the distances between them were actually multiple pitches. Both Teton Classics and 50-Classic Climbs rated the climb as grade IV, which threw both of us. Being a 3000-foot face with plenty of surprises, it definitely rates a grade V. A single day ascent is possible if a strong party knows the route, finds it in dry condition, has good weather and simul-climbs the easier ledge pitches. But we thought most capable parties will end up bivying on the Face.

The bivy cave at start of First Ledge, just above guano chimney

Finally we arrived at guano chimney leading to First Ledge. I had assumed that it would be white from bird droppings but the droppings were mostly dark in color. The pro was good and there were only a few footholds that were really greasy. The chimney turned sideways near the top, but was wide enough that climbing with the pack was not difficult. Finally we reached the First Ledge and found the bivy cave. The cave offers protection from precipitation and falling rock for two or three people. It wasn't wet, but the soil on the floor was damp. Later we spoke with a climber who intended to bivy there in August, but found it full of snow. Instead they bivied unprotected out on the Ledge. In the morning falling rock cut both of their ropes and smashed their cooking pot. We worked up the ledge skirting a large patch of snow on the cliff side. Due to melting snow, there was occasionally wet rock and streams of water. As darkness approached, Mark groped up a nightmare of slippery footholds and sparse pro following a small stream. His shoes were soaking wet by the time he reached a belay.

Sunset from First Ledge in smoke-filled skies

I had figured that we would climb by headlamp into the night, at least to reach the end of First Ledge where there is a protective alcove. However there was no moon and in the pitch darkness it was impossible to see where we were going. Reluctantly we found a bivy spot behind a short wall that offered some limited protection from falling rock. We put on all of our spare warm clothes and rain gear and settled down for the night. It was warm enough that we slept some, but not warm enough for continuous sleep. At one point I heard rockfall and scrambled to press myself against the wall. Mark said that he hadn't heard anything and that I must have been dreaming.

We packed up and began moving at first light. The climbing was easy and on dry rock. We were by now low on water and I began to regret not filling our bottles when we had the chance. Near the end of First Ledge we headed up toward Second Ledge, once again encountering some route finding difficulties on the way. Generally we kept left and wound up OK. We found running water before reaching the Second Ledge, and by digging a hole in a flat spot we were able to create a large enough pool to filter the water. We hydrated ourselves and filled one bottle.

Mark belaying me up on Second Ledge after bypassing the snow patch there

At the start of Second Ledge we encountered another large patch of snow, which seemed to block further progress. The rock below it was running with water. After trying unsuccessfully to climb the wet, slippery and unprotected inside corner below the snow, I backed off and looked around the outside corner for another way. I found good dry rock and soon we there past that snow patch. I had been carrying the pack while Mark had been leading most of the pitches. Upon following my lead around the snow and onto the Second Ledge, Mark had to carry the pack for the first time. I don't think that he wanted to do it again. The climb to Third Ledge was uneventful.

View from Third Ledge

Finally we reached the famous pendulum pitch that blocked further progress on the North Face until it was successfully climbed. However, I was about to argue that we hadn't gone far enough when Mark produced a picture of this pitch that he had found on the internet. There was no question that we were in the correct location, but only because we had the photo. One of the problems climbing with the North Face is that the route finding is tricky and the route descriptions are vague. The first half of the pendulum pitch is a dihedral with plenty of footholds and pro. However a steady drip of water came down and many of the foot and handholds were wet.

The start of the Pendulum Pitch from Third Ledge

Mark leading the dihedral at the bottom of the Pendulum Pitch

Belaying from below I could not see Mark on the traverse, which turned out to be longer than I expected, but with excellent pro on demand. Basically it is a ledge that narrows to nothing before turning a corner with a nice hand crack. Mark crawled out on the ledge and stood up at the very end using an undercling and handholds on the face. He rated it at 5.9, and it appeared to me as a gem of a pitch compared to the choss and loose rock we had been climbing. Following with the heavy pack I took Mark's advice and used aid technique on the traverse, clipping a doubled sling ahead of me and stepping in it to remove the pro behind me. The exposure was really wild.

We were now on the upper Fourth Ledge and nearing the summit. The North Ridge was spitting distance and we could literally scramble to the summit from where we stood. Again, we tried to figure out where the final pitch began. Mark started up a large dihedral that slanted up and left but retreated guessing that he was off route. Then he started up a shallow dihedral further right, but backed off again saying the face climbing above was wet and looked much harder than 5.7 friction. We didn't have a picture of this pitch, and nothing matched the description we had. There was by now some cloud activity, not cumulus but high "drippy" clouds coming in from the west, threatening rain if they worsened. So we walked around to the west side on Fourth Ledge and scrambled to the summit at about 6pm. Somebody was parasailing above the summit.

View from the summit looking north through smoky skies

There was some cloud activity with localized rain to the west but it never reached the Grand. On the summit the air was calm and the sun hot when not cut by the high clouds. We were almost at 14,000 feet and we wondered how hot it must be lower down. Mark called his wife on his cell phone. There was an enormous amount of smoke in the air from forest fires. We meandered down to the northernmost set of rappels and rapped to the Enclosure. We packed up and remembering the advice to stay high on the left near the bottom, we exited through the Eye of the Needle and reached the Lower Saddle. There we were directed to a cairn near the trail below where there was a source of water to fill our bottles. We began hiking but soon it was pitch dark. Broad vision is useful for staying on the trail in the boulder fields and moraines.

We soon found ourselves off the trail on a moraine. Reluctantly we realized that we were going to have to bivy yet again. It was somewhat warmer this time because we were at a lower elevation. We slept till the sun baked us the following morning. Instead of running up the shortcut, we hiked to the junction with the Amphitheater Lake trail and Mark ran back up to retrieve our bivy gear. A late morning thundershower on the east side sprinkled little rain but cut the hot sun on our hike out. At the car we drained the spare gallon of water we had left in the trunk.

We drove to the Jenny Lake Ranger station to make sure that no one was looking for us since we were delayed a day, but the climbing ranger station was closed and there was no sign out sheet in the box outside. We drove out to the main road, headed toward the park entrance and took the side road to the Teton Climber's Ranch run by the American Alpine Club. They offer showers for a donation of $5. We sorted gear and then drove out of the park. Before hitting the main road we turned left and went to Dornan's Chuckwagon Barbeque, a great buffet for hungry climbers.

This was a very memorable and satisfying climb. Our advice is to keep in mind the true scale of the Grand's 3000 foot North Face, and realize that loose rock, tricky route finding and wet pitches may characterize the climbing. One climber that we met on the summit told us the North Ridge offers more solid rock and greater safety than the North Face. But during our ascent, we heard a climbing party set off an avalanche of rocks from the North Ridge. The sound of crashing stones and their repeated yells were a sobering reminder that one should not underestimate these alpine routes.

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A Los Alpinistas story by Larry Sverdup.