Pigeon Spire, West Ridge

By: Gary Clark | Climbers: Gary & Lynn Clark |Trip Dates: August 09, 2001

Photo: Gary Clark

® The author(s) and naclassics.com | Back to climb page NAC Home page

After a 4:00am start the day before to enter the "Bugaboo Spire Grand Prix", it was sheer luxury to leave the alarm clock off and sleep until we felt like getting up. We cooked a leisurely breakfast in the kitchen, which I remarked was starting to be better equipped than ours at home. Since the last time we were here, a microwave oven had been added. We were well fueled when we left the hut to begin the now very familiar approach. Locating one of the many small trails, we headed straight for the Bugaboo Glacier over a series of rock terraces and small meadows. Soon we were putting on crampons for the traverse under the awesome NE face of Snowpatch Spire, then on to the slog up to the col between that spire and Bugaboo itself. We knew from the day before that the bergschrund might be tricky. It had been easy to jump coming down, but stepping up to the higher lip would be problematic, especially for a relatively short person like Lynn. We had decided to go especially light for the Pigeon climb, but I brought a few slings that I could jury-rig a simple belay from below for her step-across.

Lynn's strong suit is flexibility, and she demonstrated it in an impressive split to span the gap. Pulling on an axe I had planted deeply on the high side, she was quickly over, and I followed quickly without the formality of a belay. Now up to the col, only to face the long hike across a gradually ascending snow slope. There are a few crevasses along the way, but they are of the step-across variety; it would take a very deliberate act to go into one of them after the surface snow has melted to make them all visible.

Our light aluminum crampons were very welcome as we climbed some moderately steep icy slopes up to a nice notch in the ridge. Others arriving simultaneously without crampons had a much more exciting time. Soon we were having "brunch" at the notch with our boots off, enjoying the sunshine on what looked to be another perfect day. Looking up, I could see immediately why the route enjoys such a reputation. Beautiful granite slabs rose without interruption to a sharp ridge, their monolithic perfection only marred by a series of horizontal and vertical cracks, of a type and size seemingly designed for climbing. I couldn't wait to finish eating and get on with it.

Back at the hut the night before I had incredulously read an account in a climbing magazine of someone climbing the entire route in 12 minutes and 26 seconds. Obviously he didn't have a rope, but he also chose not to wear any clothes other than his rock shoes. I was somehow discomfited by this account, since it trivialized a route that we traveled a long distance to climb (among others, of course), and since my motivation was the recurrent reference to this route in climbing publications as a "Great Classic" (in one case "Ultra Classic") route. My hopes were that it would be a suitable addition to the North American Classics collection. This would round out the Bugaboo collection, comprising an easy (Pigeon), a moderate (Bugaboo), and a serious (South Howser) route for the area.

I decided that we'd just go enjoy the climb and judge for ourselves later whether it was a suitable candidate, or too easy to be a "real" climb. For perspective, the Nose of El Capitan has been climbed in something like 4 hours, and the Steck-Salathe on Sentinel Rock in under 2 hours. I labored for 4 days on the former, and still haven't gotten up the latter. It's just a reflection of increasing standards that former test pieces are now casual outings for the elite of the sport.

OK, back to the climb. We could leave all our approach gear, such as boots, crampons, and axes at the notch. Should we go naked? A brisk breeze off the glacier answered that question before it was even posed, and we started up the initial slabs with gloves, ear bands, and wind jackets. We had no designs on the speed record, but knew that by simul-soloing we would naturally be moving pretty efficiently. We stopped for several clothing changes and photographs along the way, but still found ourselves nearing the first false summit almost before we had gotten used to the rock. From that summit a football field of granite leads gently down to a sharp notch, then you begin ridge climbing again. The climbing was never difficult, but we moved up some exposed knife-edged ridges slowly and carefully, since the exposure was by now significant. Very soon we were at a second small summit, looking at a monolithic block of granite that clearly had to be gotten around - it couldn't be climbed. The route description confirmed that a traverse to the north was in order. The traverse was over blocky terrain right up against a steep wall. We followed boot prints in the snow, trying to avoid stepping in the snow in our smooth-soled rock shoes, but occasionally finding no way to avoid it. After scrambling a few short chimneys, we could see a party above on what was clearly the technical crux of the climb. A woman belayed while her male partner led a thin crack up a perfect 45-degree slab. We waited until he moved around a corner and called down "Off belay", then stood patiently while she climbed the pitch in mountain boots. It was immediately obvious when she left the belay that this was one of her first climbs, and I coached her a little as she tried to climb the smooth slab on the sides of her boots with little success. "Use the rubber on the bottom!"

Patience is not one of my virtues, I'm afraid, and I almost just started up the slab to her left rather than wait for her to painfully make progress, but again I decided that we weren't here to impress anyone with our speed. I started up a safe distance below her, mindful of the Vibrams above my head and the amount of rope stretch I could expect if she fell. As soon as she reached the belay I ducked around her and passed on up to a good ledge. Lynn was right behind. The short easy ledge led to a final slab that formed the summit block. I tagged the summit, waited for the obligatory photo, then came back down to allow Lynn passage to this very small piece of real estate. The other party asked if I'd take their photo, so I waited below at a good vantage point until they could belay to the summit, took the photo, and started down. Lynn had preceded me and was by now almost finished with the pitch. Although it had been very easy going up, the downclimb demanded respect. The upper half had almost no handholds, so one needed complete faith in the sticky rubber on the shoes. Looking between my legs, I could see the glacier many hundreds of feet below; a fall was unthinkable. Finally, about halfway down, the crack appeared again, and I could relax as I sunk good finger locks while still fractioning on small rugosities on the slab with my feet.

Lynn was by now well ahead of me, and I hustled to catch up. The knife-edged ridges were pure delight with vast vistas of the Howser Towers directly ahead and stimulating exposure to both sides. Down to the notch, then jog up the other side. I passed a team simul-climbing with a rope, saying "Hi, how you doing", in passing. I was brought up short as one called "Gary!" "Aren't you Gary Clark?" I was initially mystified, since I hadn't recognized either of them, but then he said "It's Dan! . . . From Hunter!". The last time I saw Dan, his face was covered in the rime ice after descending the SW Ridge of Mt. Hunter in a storm. I had gotten out of my tent to help him and his partner set up their tent in a blizzard, and never got a real good look at him. Now in these much more pleasant conditions we spent the next 20 minutes getting reacquainted, then they set off to the summit while we continued down. In an even bigger coincidence, it turns out he had climbed up behind us the day before on the NE Ridge of Bugaboo Spire, but since there had been a party in between us, we had never intersected.

Back at the notch as we re-outfitted ourselves for the trip back across the glacier, I asked Lynn what time it was.

"1:30", she said, "We took about an hour and a half for the round trip."

"Wow, I wonder how fast we could do it naked?"

"You can come back and do that by yourself."