New Routing on Sahale Peak

It was going to be two weeks in the Bugaboos. Then it was going to be 10 days in the wilderness surrounding Dome Peak. Or at very least, a few days on a dream line in the North Cascades that we had spotted on a previous traverse. In the end, life intervened and my good friend Forest McBrian and I were left with a compact window of 3 days with a dubious forecast. I had consolation climbs in mind that had been lingering on my list, but nothing that touched that thirst for full immersion and genuine exploration. Nothing, that is, until Forest suggested that we take a peek at a line he’d been eyeballing on his many guiding forays across the Quien Sabe glacier in North Cascades National Park.

I have a deep respect for Forest’s alpine aesthetic. I peppered him with the appropriate qualification questions, which take all of about 5 minutes between good partners, and I was sold. It was purported to be a compelling line of unknown quality on a major spur breaking SW from the summit of Sahale Peak. If it turned out to have some class, it would be a significant addition to the catalog of alpine climbing lines in the renowned Boston Basin.

The first day had us punching up the steep but totally reasonable (by Cascadian standards) approach to Boston Basin. We setup camp on a flat rock outcrop at the toe of the Quien Sabe glacier and took a quick climb up the bottom part of the glacier to gather beta on the route. Our exploratory mission proved mostly fruitless as the clouds swirled across the peaks, but it did set us up with an efficient route to the base of the climb, which we’d use the following morning. Returning to camp, we settled in for a comfortable night of dancing fog and shy but striking constellations.

By morning, there were clouds above and clouds below, but at camp we found ourselves embraced by kind conditions between the layers of hovering water. Given that this mission was already graced with the ‘fuck it, let’s just see what we find’ ethos, there wasn’t much discussion about whether or not we should postpone the climb for better weather. ‘Fuck it,’ we said, ‘let’s just see what we find.’

The snow on the glacier was soggy, but not enough to be unpleasant. The visibility was shifty, but not enough to be unpleasant. The temperatures were cool, but…you get the idea. So on we pushed until we found ourselves at the base of a triangular face, the first of a set of towers which were surprisingly mirrored in structure and appearance, stacked like terraced arrowheads up the length of the spur. To the right edge was a bit of rambling, but it was followed by what was undeniably a decent finger to hands crack which would unlock the first pitch. 

The honors to the author, Forest set off and found that decent climbing accompanied necessary but not displeasing trundling of loose flakes and bowling balls, all of which cleared the belayer by fine margins, much to the relief of said belayer. 

Not to oversimplify things, but as we swapped leads in intermittent fog and filtered sun, we were generally rewarded with climbing of a totally reasonable difficulty, perhaps 5.8 on the whole. We generally climbed the arete features to the right of each arrowhead face, with occasional moves to the faces. This aspect allowed for straightforward route finding, and the capacity to heave rocks both to and fro while the middle ground betwixt the two was reserved for the climbing partner holding the lifeline to the whole enterprise. 

There were two pitches which stood out to each of us as especially hazardous or just deeply meh. To quote Forest: “As anticipated based on the view from the Quien Sabe, the route included clean, solid cracks, knife edges of white Skagit gneiss, and loose blocks mortared weakly in place by garbage.” 

To it’s further credit, it’s not runout in the least; protection is plentiful on every pitch. Fantastic belay ledges arrive like clockworks every 30 meters or so. Is it scary? Not extremely, but you’ll want to choose your partner wisely. A ham fisted climber could cause some problems. In short, we had a damn fine time. I wouldn’t be too surprised if you do, too. But don’t come hollering if you find it dirty, loose and heavily spiced. Eye of the beholder and all that…

For Forest’s writeup of this route as well as more technical info and photos, check out the report in the American Alpine Journal.