Dobbs Loop

It took Dave Gillanders and me about 10 hours to do a (new?) loop on Dobbs Peak (~10,500 feet) near Mt. San Gorgonio. Stepping off the trail at Vivian Creek Camp, we ascended the West Ridge of Dobbs (which is also called Dobbs Ridge) to the summit. The entire ridge route was marked (read: littered) with squares of pink duct tape. The ascent involved 4500 feet of elevation gain. We then descended the South Ridge of Dobbs to the vicinity of High Creek Camp. There were no signs of prior travel on the class 2 South Ridge.

Dobbs Loop. Dobbs Peak is the upper right corner of the loop. 

 Dave crossing Mill Creek in the morning.

 Dave heading up the West Ridge with Yucaipa Ridge in the background. 

Looking up the West Ridge. It's easy off-trail terrain.

Yucaipa Ridge with Mt. San Jacinto in the background. 

Dave on the broad sandy summit ridge. Dobbs Peak is at the end of the ridge. 

About to descend the South Ridge.

Dave descending an easier stretch of the South Ridge.

The South Ridge of Mt. Baldy

 

The South Ridge route on Mt. Baldy

 The South Ridge of Mt. Baldy is the ridge between San Antonio Canyon and Goode Canyon. It starts at 5600 feet and is intersected by the Ski Hut trail at 8800 feet.

At 6:30AM on April 6, Patrick Moran, Dave Gillanders, and I left the car at Manker Flat and descended 400 feet to near the bottom of the South Ridge. The 100 foot drop into the canyon is hazardous. I took a 20-foot slide down there once and Patrick got caught in a rock/dirt avalanche there once, escaping bloody and battered with a severed finger tip. It came as no surprise, then, that we spotted a fixed line dropping to the canyon floor. But instead of using the questionable line, we opted for an alternate and thankfully uneventful way down. 

From the floor of San Antonio canyon, we descended 5-10 more minutes until the canyon narrowed precipitously. We figured that this would be a good place to gain the ridge. What followed was a stressful, 30-minute, 200-foot climb of a rotten, third class slope. I wouldn't recommend it.

Once on the ridge, we managed to avoid the bushwhacking that had plagued Dave and I on our previous ascent by sticking to the sandy and laborious right side of the ridge. 1.5 hours after leaving the car, we finally got above the nastiness and began the pleasant 2000-foot ridge climb to the intersection with the Ski Hut trail. We then followed the Ski Hut trail up the remainder of the South Ridge to the summit.

It took us five hours to descend 400 feet to the bottom of the ridge and then climb 4300 vertical feet to the summit.  

Dave about to get into the nastiness as we climb out of the canyon and onto the ridge.

 The beginning of the nice part of the ridge.

 Patrick getting into the good stuff.

Dave on the ridge. 

 Patrick among the blocks.

Above the point where the Ski Hut trail intersects the South Ridge, I got off the main trail and stumbled into airplane alley. 

More wreckage in the upper reaches of Goode Canyon. It was all over the place. 

200 feet above the airplane wreckage and back on the main trail. 

Baldy summit. 

That's one portion of the South Ridge up there.

Skyline on Mt. San Jacinto (#2)

At 5:30 AM on March 31, Ellen, Liz, and I started up the Skyline trail, which follows an eastern ridge on Mt. San Jacinto for 8100 vertical feet (not including some ups and downs) to the upper tram station. Minutes later, friends Steve, Patti, and Mark headed up as well. Though it got a little warm for my tastes in the bottom half, temperatures in the upper half were perfect. And there was no snow/ice in the final traverse chutes to worry about. 

We're heading just right of that high point in the middle. 

Ellen and Liz with Mt. San Gorgonio in the background. 

Some tempting tuna (I think) at flat rock. 

 Yet another vegetation zone. 

We'll be traversing through the pines to the obvious crag (Coffman's Crag). There are a couple couloir crossings in there that can be very hazardous when filled with ice/snow.

Traversing to Coffman's Crag.

 At Coffman's Crag.

The top of the Skyline trail. Just ten more minutes to the upper tram station.

Bell Ridge on Pinos Peak (round 2)

This has become one of my favorite hikes in the Santa Anas. It took Patrick M., Dave G., and me a little over seven hours to cover the 13 miles and 4300 vertical feet. At least two of us brushed up against poison oak. I'll let the pictures do the rest of the talking while I scratch my leg.

 Patrick and Dave an hour or so after dawn.  I'm just a shadow of myself.

Looking back down Bell Ridge

Santiago Peak

 

Dave and Patrick on the summit of Pinos Peak.

The final dry and warm stretch into suburbia.

Register Ridge, Mt. Baldy (yet again)

It had been over five months since I'd hiked up a mountain, and boy did I need it. I went up Mt. Baldy via Register Ridge and the Ski Hut trail. The stretch from the summit down to the boulder field was mostly snow-covered, and I donned micro-spikes for the west side of the bowl. Twas a fine day in the hills.

 Early morning light on the surprisingly dry bowl

 First time I've ever seen a sign here

 Register Ridge

 Register Ridge

 Register Ridge

 Register Ridge

A hazardous snow crossing on the Devil's Backbone trail. 

 A young bighorn sheep

 Looking down the Devil's Backbone

 The summit

 Here's another view of that hazardous snow crossing. 

Where the Ski Hut trail intersects the South Ridge

 The icy west side of the bowl

"Enduring Patagonia" review

When I was living at the Grand Teton Climber's Ranch in summer 1996, I attended an extraordinary slideshow by Greg Crouch, who had recently climbed Cerro Torre.  Greg had spent an entire season trying and trying and trying again to scale the peak amid some of the world's worst weather.  He and his partners waited out the regularly ferocious and prolonged storms in a squalid, mice-infested shelter miles from the nearest town.  All climbing was done in weather windows that would open for a day or two before slamming shut for a week or three. The final successful ascent required an impromptu bivouac a few meters below the tippy top.

That particular Cerro Torre climb was one of several major ascents Crouch made in the region during the 1990s.  In 2001, he published an outstanding book about those excursions, entitled Enduring Patagonia.

The author enjoying typical conditions on Cerro Torre.

Crouch's trips to the Chalten Massif all seem to have a few things in common.  They each involve:
(1) multiple months;
(2) one horrible storm after another;
(3) waiting out storms in remote, dumpy camps for the majority of the time;
(4) extremely technical rock and ice climbing;
(5) constant uncertainty about the circumstances and the outcome;
(6) dangerous retreats through storms at night; and
(7) clothing that is rarely if ever washed and possibly never changed.

Crouch's determination in the midst of these mostly miserable conditions is astonishing.

The author in the notorious (noTORREous?) camp.  This is apparently how the majority of time is spent on a climbing trip in Patagonia. 

But Crouch is more than a determined alpinist.  He is also an excellent writer. Enduring Patagonia is a totally engaging read.  My only complaint is that there were not 200 more pages.  The story is compelling, the prose is solid, and Crouch writes with an honesty and lack of pretension that is starkly genuine.

It also helps that Crouch comes across as a very likeable fellow. In fact, he is a likeable fellow.  I know that, because a day or two after the previously mentioned slideshow, I encountered Crouch again -- on the summit of the Grand Teton.  Descending the mountain together, I was regaled with some of the backstory from his Cerro Torre odyssey.  One detail I remember was how he funded the trip -- by installing ball-washing machines in ball pools.  And I was delighted to find a sustained discussion of that decidedly odd job, and others, in Enduring Patagonia. 

Many photos from Crouch's mountaineering adventures are posted on the Enduring Patagonia facebook page and his personal website.

The ebook and actual book are available in many places, including here.

Crouch recently published another book which took him a decade to write, entitled China's Wings.  Find out more about that here.

The author on the summit of Fitzroy.

 All images in this article are courtesy of Greg Crouch.   

Rock Song About Mammoth Lakes

The first song on my album Breach (2013) is "I Don't Want To Think About Her Anymore". The lyrics are based on an experience I had in Mammoth Lakes, California many moons ago when I was a climbing bum. The song can be streamed here or on Spotify:




Here are the lyrics:

I met her in the mountain town of Mammoth Lakes.
She had a smile that could make the earth quake.
Always surrounded by a half a dozen guys
with eyes fixed firmly on the prize.

Lucky me I became the chosen one,
for a few weeks at least in the sun.
In my mind she was wearing a tiara
and I was the king of the Sierra.

I don’t want to think about her anymore. (2x)

She could lead 5.9 follow 5.11.
Belaying her I was in heaven.
But then I slipped and took my fall from grace,
introduced her to the mountain ace.

She and I were heading out to the hot springs.
Saw him on the street and said, “Hey, get your things.”
One look at her he was immediately smitten.
Alarm bells rang when she purred like a kitten.

I don’t want to think about her anymore. (2x)

Meanwhile, back at the hot springs,
skinny-dipping we could see everything.
That really didn’t work out well in my favor,
because they were both players.

Game over for the tall, skinny, white guy.
I should have known when I saw the look in his eye.
They never thanked their match-making fairy,
even though they got married.

I don’t want to think about her anymore. (3x)

Game over


©℗ 2013 Sam Page