Chianti Spire via "Rebel Yell," 10b
July 1, 2024
The closer we got to the long weekend, the worse the weather was looking, and all my regular partners and friends were away or busy. With the threat of doing absolutely nothing on a 3 day weekend looming over my head, I did something fairly unusual: I posted to the BCMC to look for a partner. My criteria was simply to find someone willing to go with me wherever the weather would allow us to do something cool. I was happy leading or following on any sort of adventure – I just wanted to be outside.
To my surprise, I received quite a few responses, and did my best to filter through the list for a capable partner. I eventually landed on Matt (who had some mutual friends that made it easier to trust he wasn’t some internet weirdo) and with the weekend fast approaching, we set to work finding a common objective.
Sadly, even the weather in Washington didn’t look amazing. Saturday was a write-off with heavy rain and winds, Sunday was a maybe, and Monday would be our only potential clear day. We settled on a plan: go climb “Flyboys” on Sunday in Mazama where the weather is always guaranteed to be good, then climb Chianti spire on Monday IF there’s not to much cloud cover.
So, on Saturday night we crossed the border in the evening, and set up our car camp near Mazama. After listening to rain all night, we optimistically headed for the climb anyways since it’s “just sport climbing!” Flyboys is an 18 pitch route with grades up to 5.9, so everyone usually complains about long wait times and hordes of people. I guess no one else is crazy enough to start climbing an hour after a rain storm though, and we ended up being the only ones on the route!
Mazama valley
Matt on one of the flyboys pitches
The climb went beautifully, and after linking almost every pitch, we were at the top in only 4.5 hours. We very luckily avoided 18 rappels or a 15km “walk-off” down the service road because Elise happened to be in town and drove up to give us a ride back to the car. We got coffees for her and her partner, but I still owe her one for saving us more than 3 hours of descent!
When we finished our climb it was still pretty early in the day, and looking over towards Washington pass from Flyboys we were thankful to be spending the day in Mazama. You can actually see Chianti spire from the road we descended on, which was ominously surrounded by clouds. The forecast insisted it would be sunny and dry for Monday though, so we packed our bags to at least give ‘er a good shot.
Some pretty alpine succulents that I’ve never seen in bloom before
Looking over towards Chianti spire
At 3am, we were up and moving: packing our campsite, and trying to eat breakfast. I felt way too nauseous to stomach any food, probably due to lack of sleep. I’d spent the evening reading up on the route, trying to somehow glean from other trip reports whether I could climb the route or not, which of course led me nowhere. Only time will tell!
We left the trailhead at around 5:30am, and in just under 3 hours we were standing at the base of our route. There was only one piece of exposed rock where we could reasonably leave our snow gear, so from there we set about looking for a way to traverse the snow on to the face. I knew from this point that there were multiple variations of crack lines going up to pitch two, and lucky for us a really striking one shot almost straight up from the bench we were standing on. I kicked some nice steps into the snow for myself, then transitioned into my rock shoes to start up the crack. We’d opted for the easier of the two variations to start the route, since steep and thin fingers didn’t sound like a fun warm up to either of us.
Liberty bell catching some gorgeous morning light
Me heading up to the col
Heading down from Burgundy col
Traversing the snow slopes to Chianti
A first look up at our route (the tower on the left center)
Kicking some steps up to the base
After making a few moves into a perfect hand crack, I realized I was totally in heaven. It felt so nice being back on rock after a mediocre snow season, and sinking my hands into these clean cracks filled me with joy. The pitch was over too quickly, and I soon stood on a small ledge with an old rappel station. I admired the views around me: the vast expanse of snow on the upper Silver Star glacier, and the sunny views into the valleys surrounding Mazama.
When Matt joined me on the ledge, he didn’t take much time to contemplate the next pitch, I guess wanting to get into it before we could overthink it. After a few meters, it became too wide to protect, and he made some very committing moves up what seemed to me like a #8 (or wider?) crack. When I followed him up, I was speechless at how this pitch could be called 5.9. It didn’t have much in the way of face holds to get around the steep off-width moves, but maybe if you’re a master at this crack size would feel easier. I genuinely think this pitch is the crux of the whole route.
Looking up at our route from the start of the first pitch
My views from the first belay ledge
Matt’s view from the top of the second pitch
Me just starting up P3
The next pitch was where I got us lost on route. It was supposed to be 5.7, low angle ledges, but I climbed straight up suspiciously dirty cracks, and reached the underside of a small roof. From the topo it looked like I was at the right spot, but I genuinely couldn’t see a way to continue up, or across: it looked to me like a fully blank face. I’d read that the “blind reach around” move at the start of the following pitch had a big jug to make it feel 5.8, and that jug was nowhere in sight.
Feeling really discouraged, I downclimbed nearly half the pitch, and made a “reach around move” lower down that I believed to be correct. However after traversing more dirty cracks and still being unable to find the start of the “money pitch,” I was forced to again retreat back to the same spot. I brought Matt up on a set of the new rappel rings, and he decided to give my “blank” move a go.
Well, it turns out that I’m just short. When you’re Matt’s height (6’2″), you can actually reach across that entire blank face I was talking about to the edge, where there are some mediocre crimps to hold on to while you step around the exposed corner. I was totally mind-blown when he made the move, but even he admitted that it wasn’t really a 5.8 “gimme.”
The “blind reach around move” that I didn’t want to commit to on lead
Matt kindly set up a belay again after this short move to allow me to finish my pitch, and go as high up as I wanted to on the splitters of the money pitch. I was really happy to get this lead, and grateful that he was understanding with me for wasting nearly 1.5h getting lost (being too chicken to make a dynamic move in the alpine above mediocre pro!)
The fully vertical hand jams were so tough, but being my perfect size I finally felt back in my element! I went as far and high as I could, being careful not to use all my cams too quickly since the crack hardly varied in size. I built an anchor in the first place I could find that took a #2 and nut, since I’d used all my cams up to #1, and figured Matt would be upset if I used a #4 since the next pitch was fully splitter in that size. It took some thought, but I eventually set up a very uncomfortable hanging belay right as the crack began to widen.
Matt following me up my amazing thin hands pitch
Looking up – here’s where the crack gets wide.
When Matt joined me at this belay, he noted how difficult the thin hands were for him, and I finally felt like my skills were also helping us get to the summit since I’d been all but useless on the wide pitches!
He took off into the rest of the “money pitch,” which consisted of splitter #4 size, and next to no other features – meaning your technique really needs to be dialed. I noticed very quickly that he bumped both 4’s as he climbed, meaning there was absolutely no chance I could pull on one if I needed to. As I belayed, my legs and feet began to fall asleep, with the circulation being cut off by my nice lightweight alpine harness. In the future if I’m doing any harder climbing in the alpine and not just cruisy ridgelines, I should probably bring something more comfortable to hang out in at these long belays…
After a long struggle-fest, it was finally my turn to join in the fun. I’d done a bunch of research the previous night on specific technique for this crack size (for someone with little feet like me), and I surprised myself by finding a lot of stability in these jams! My strategy was a bicep jam + gaston combo, as well as this weird variation on a foot-stack since my calfs seem to be too skinny to lock them in there in any useful way. I was really surprised with how doable it felt despite being absolutely exhausting. With numerous breaks and an assisted belay which helped more with rope drag than actually pulling me upwards, I did finally make it up the pitch! Matt had continued up part of the next pitch for me because it continued to be #4 and #5 size, and I was so glad to reach the belay and see there was no more off-width to complete ahead.
I continued back on lead up a few easy moves, before reaching a scramble to the summit. What a relief!! I slung a boulder to belay Matt up, and took some big deep breaths of fresh air. It was nearly 4pm, so we tried to take our summit photos quickly. The summit block itself is not to be underestimated – the moves are indeed only around 5.7, but it’s very exposed and I won’t lie that I second guessed myself for a minute, maybe due to how tired and in my head I already was.
Matt on the lower part of the summit with Washington Pass in the background
Matt up on the summit
Me on the summit!
The rappels went really easily thanks to the new bolted line that was installed in 2022. We’d passed most of the stations on our way up too so we already had a good idea of where everything was. The crux of the whole thing was actually the final rap, where we did some sketchy swinging sideways to get as close as we could to our gear without having to walk too far in the snow. I was a little worried about this, since kicking steps into fairly steep snow with climbing shoes and no ice axe isn’t my idea of fun, but it ended up only being a few meters. Matt was even kind enough to go first and bring my ice axe over to me after grabbing his boots.
After repacking gear, we began the long plod back to the car, reversing our steps in the snow and then down through the forest. The snow was still nice and soft, hardly necessitating crampons, but I only stopped to take them off once we were back on dirt at the col. From that point, we also had the great pleasure of seeing two mountain goats: one protective mama and her very fuzzy looking little baby.
We made it back to the car just as it was starting to get dark, completing one very long, but very full value day. I’d had a feeling I wouldn’t be getting much sleep for work the next day, and this was confirmed when I plugged in directions that landed me back at home for 2am. Still, 3 hours of sleep is better than no sleep, and there’s always coffee 🙂
Matt coming down on raps
Rapping past what would be the alternate 10b finger start. People talk pretty highly of it but it sure does look hard…
Back at the col, a collection of very cute goat pics that Matt took!
God, it’s so cute. omg
Love this lighting!
Sunset over the liberty group.
Gear
- 70m rope
- Cams from .2-5, and doubles in .3-4
- A collection of nuts & offsets
- 9 alpine draws, & a 5m cord each for anchors
- Ice axe & crampons