Out of Time: Up the Northeast Face of Hallett Peak

 I slipped on verglass in the low light off of my headlamp, “dammit!” I blurted out of my mouth. I could hear Matt giggle quietly in front of me. It was late September and both of us had decided to make a dawn patrol mission up the “Great Dihedral” (5.7 III) route on the central cracks of the northeast face of Hallett Peak in Rocky Mountain National Park. I just didn’t realize it would get that cold overnight, even this early in the fall around here.

We continued farther up the scree of the slope off of Lake Haiyaha. In the low late-summer light I could make out the dark waters of the surface of the lake below us. The wind had not yet kicked up and the blackness of the lake looked almost like glass. We picked this route for several reasons. Not only did Matt have to work that afternoon and guide a few hikes around Moraine Park, but he also had a rendezvous for a backpacking trip on the western slope of the park that afternoon that I was a little jealous of. Why not add something else to max out the day?

We had selected the route the week before, it stuck out among many others. It was within our grade, for one, and the route finding up the solid wall of rock and chockstone was pretty straightforward. There would be less a chance of “getting lost” on this one like many of the alpine climbs that we had done together before. Beyond that, the approach was short, only a few miles at best, and the descent was even more straight forward than the climb. All we had to do was get up to the lake, finish the climb, tag the peak, and scramble down the gully that came off of the opposing side from the route up. Nothing more, nothing less.

We came to the base of the route above the shadowed and clear waters of the glaciated lake below us. Fall was beginning to set in, but it was not cold enough the night before to even try to freeze the icy waters even a little bit. I could only imagine how cold it was in there regardless. I kicked a few rocks down and turned to look at Matt, “a little dark up here still, huh?” He nodded in reply, and then looked up to a boulder above us and pointed, “We could hide out up there below those huge chockstones and wait for sunrise.” I agreed, and we both climbed into the pseudo-cave that was created by huge boulders falling into the dihedral and creating large chockstones. From the slings thrown around the rocks above us, we could definitely tell that this was the start of the route.

I shivered a little bit, turned off my headlamp, and bumped Matt. His eyes opened from the brief respite of what could have been a nap, and I pointed to the red horizon beyond. “It never quite really gets old, does it?” He mumbled as the sky before us when through a fiery metamorphosis of reds, yellows, and oranges. I shifted a bit on the rock we sat on and nodded in agreement slowly, “yeah, it never really does.” As soon as we could both see the sun pop over the ridges beyond us and warm the rocks of the route, we continued on our way.

I flaked out the rope inside the small crevice of a cave that we had been sitting in moments before. Matt set up the gear and rack. The “Great Dihedral” route was unique in the placements of protection that it demanded. As the name implies, the majority of the line was inside of a large right-angle crack that ran the entire way up to the lower summit of Hallett peak. Within it was a myriad of small cracks, chockstones, large cracks, and flakes of assorted sizes. This required of us a rack larger than most we had lugged into the alpine. We carried several large hexes with us, as many large #2 and #3 cams as we had at the time, and two sets of regular nuts and offset nuts. Beyond that, Matt and I both agreed there would certainly be a smattering of small placements as well, and brought with some micro cams to augment our larger assortment of active protection pieces. Long story short, we were prepared to quest up into the unknown.

I put Matt on belay and he popped out above the large boulders I was anchored to underneath. “Oh my gosh yeah” I could hear him scream as the rope played out through my ATC farther and farther. I knew this was going to be cruiser. Before I knew it we were both sitting at the anchor Matt had made at the top of the first pitch. The climbing was easy in grade, but highly physical in movement, which made for a fun and enjoyable climb through the maze of giant boulders wedged in the huge dihedral. Without wasting a breath, Matt and I organized the rack once more, and he was off up the second pitch.

The placements Matt had made throughout the duration of this climb were near-perfect. Each time I seconded up to each anchor it astonished me the dialed in manner in which each nut, cam, and hex were placed. The route definitely helped with that, as with nearly every single move that I made there were multiple spots inviting the placement of gear, but I credit more to Matt’s keen eye for placements than anything else.

At the top of the second pitch, Matt and I came to a grassy ledge area that carried around the front of Hallett peak like a sort of false exit-ramp. We took ourselves off of belay, I flaked the rope over my pack and shoulders, and we skirted around to rejoin the finishing pitches of the route. Despite how far up we were, the moves leading into the third pitch were easy and scrambleable, so we continued on off belay. I had the rope over my shoulders, and was thus a little more unwieldy in movement, so I still thoroughly tested each foot placement. We reached a spot that would be easy for me to belay from, and set another anchor. From there, Matt continued up the third pitch of the route into what we had hoped (from the position of the sun) would lead us to the finish of the route up to the summit.

This pitch by far was one of the most enjoyable that I had ever climbed. The moves were physical, the climbing was within grade of the description of the route, and it felt like what I had fallen in love with over the summer: pure, unadulterated, Rocky Mountain Alpine climbing. Between the choss and a few loose rocks, the third pitch held it’s own smattering of surprises as well. I loved every single second of it. I could tell from the dumb smile on Matt’s face that he thought it was a fun one all the same.

At the top of the third pitch, and to finish the route, lie five or six giant steps up to the lower summit. Each of the steps were semi-protected boulders chocked between even larger boulders holding them against the face of the peak. Wanting to save time, and knowing our strengths and limits, Matt and I opted to go off belay for good and scramble up the steps. Each move was physical, but not too hard in technical difficulty. The biggest thing for me at that point was just focusing on keeping my focus on hand and foot placements. It was hard with the excellent time we were making not to get too excited. By the time that Matt had reached the top of the last large boulder-step, he popped over the top and offered to take the rope off of my back for me. I gladly obliged, as per the big goofy, toothy grin across my face, and we both joined one another on a large slab of rock right below the summit.

I took my pack off and dropped it down on top of the slab. It was a pretty light day as per the other assortment of clothing, food, and water that I normally had in my pack for alpine climbs, but it still felt good to get the weight off my shoulders after a little more than four to five pitches of technical climbing. I noticed that Matt sat silent behind me. I turned quickly to see what he was up to and locked with his gaze across the wide expanse of space before us across the continental divide. “I hope this never gets old for me.” I quietly said to him above the shallow noise of the mid-fall Rocky Mountain breeze around us. Matt shifted a little and looked at me for a second, “I hope it doesn’t for me either.”

As soon as we had gotten all of the gear stuffed into each of our packs, we were off to find the rappel anchor that would meet up with the gully we would take down on the descent. In the mid-morning sun I could make out a steady line of tourists working their way up to the lake below. It didn’t surprise me, as the circle lakes attract quite a lot of visitors to our area regardless of the season, but I still wondered what they thought of us all the way up here. Not that it really mattered in the grand scheme of things, I just wondered for a moment from their perspective.

As we came down the opposing slope off the north face of Hallett’s summit, Matt and I caught the glint of rappel rings with webbing wrapped around a few large boulders. That was from where we would rappel down. I popped the rope off my pack, let out a little rush of air from the release of a little weight off my back, and started to flake it out over some rocks nearby. Then I checked my watch. Matt and I had given ourselves close to six hours to be able to complete the entire thing. We would end up doing in in three and a half.

I looked up at the sky and let out a loud yip. Matt asked why, and when I told him, he did nearly the same. We were cruising. A few minutes later the both of us were at the bottom of both rappels. To get back to the lake however, would require a little bit of trickiness over the large scree slope that encompassed this side of Hallett Peak. From the side that we had approached to the start of the climb, the slope of scree and talus was considerably shorter. On this side it descended over three-hundred and fifty feet down to the banks of the glacial lakes below. By the time each of us took our first steps down, we were basically skating over gravel. With just a little loss of balance an extremely good day would turn into a very, very bad one. To be honest, I went down as fast as I could just to get through it. I’m pretty sure Matt did the same. I was just more concerning with kicking the rocks down on him.

When we had finished surfing down the talus, Matt and I immediately began our return back to the trailhead. We skirted the outside of Lake Haiyaha until it reached back up with the trail to it from the other side. By this point we were really rolling. The excitement was at an all time high for the day and It wasn’t even noon. I could only imagine how tired Matt would be at the end of his big day, but I was going to make the most of it.

We got to the other side of the lake and high-tailed it on the trail back to the Bear Lake Trailhead. Weaving in between the many tourists and hikers going their each separate ways, Matt and I couldn’t help but be goofy. These were some of my favorite parts of the alpine climbs we would do together. When the objective was already reached and we were on our way back, we could just let loose and get as relaxed as we wanted. I looked one more time up to the summit of Halletts before it disappeared behind the pines that surrounded the trail we were on. I shrugged my shoulders and called up to Matt, “I wonder what would’ve happened if we had ran out of time.” He laughed back, “it would’ve been worth it either way.”

Yeah, I’d have to agree with that.