A Few Miles Up: The North Face of Long's Peak

My eyes searched the dimly-lit sky for other clouds than the large front before us. It was shortly before sunrise and Matt and I were nearly to the boulderfield below the summit bloc of Long’s Peak within our home of Rocky Mountain National Park. Above, the sky was split in half. Behind us, from the direction of the wind, a seemingly bluebird and open sky. In front of us, a thick pack of low-lying clouds. They would end up being our saving grace.

    The two of us had been scheming this mission for quite a while now. It was the end of the winter here in the Rockies, or I should say at least the coldest part of winter (it proceeded to snow on/off for a few weeks after this). Matt and I had spent the entire winter looking up at Long’s from town. The north face and the diamond permeating the back of our minds anytime that we would have a clear enough day to take a gander. Each time that one of us would look up, we noticed something. The north face of Long’s, a steeper slope that rose from Chasm View above the boulder field off to the right of the Diamond, would never really hold onto that much snow. It made both of us think.

    Matt was the first one to suggest it out loud. I give him full credit for that. We were sitting in his and Brook’s living room, drinking beer and making fun of eachother, as we normally do on weeknights, when Matt brought it up, “How about the cable route off of the north face?” He made eye contact with me over the empty bottles sitting scattered across the coffee table, “Why don’t we do that?” I shook my head and smiled, “It looks cool for sure, but isn’t that a summer thing?” Matt smiled a little deeper and continued on, “You’ve looked at it as much as I have, it could be completely doable as a mixed or snow route in the winter, and we have the gear for it.” I couldn’t argue with that, it was just that we hadn’t considered something so bold as that yet at this point in time. I nodded and took another swig of the lukewarm beer that I had been nursing for the last half hour, “Why don’t we look into it then?”

    For the next two months or so, as Matt had suggested the idea in February, We waited for good conditions to be able to get up there and get it done. By the end of March, Matt, Brooks and I had already gone up to the cirque once intending to go up the cable route and thus the north face, but switched plans and went up Mt. Meeker via the Iron Gates instead because the snowpack off of the north face still looked too unstable. We needed the spring to come a little sooner and warm things up so it could melt and refreeze. We needed to find the perfect window of time that the route was solid enough to get up and back down to the boulder field without the whole slab of snow releasing and taking us off the front side of Long’s over the diamond. In short, we needed the perfect day.

    The first weekend that Matt and I were both able to do it, and when weather was supposed to be perfect, was ruined pretty quick. I had coached a track meet for the high school the day before, and just my fate that I would end up sick from food poisoning after eating the barbecue that the parents had been so gracious to provide there. Matt and I still got around to going up to Lumpy Ridge that day and knocking out a few pitches, but I couldn’t get it out of my mind that we weren’t up on Long’s. We topped out on the route that we were on and I looked across the valley to Twin Sister’s peak with Long’s Peak towering over it from behind. The breeze that had been blowing pretty steadily for the entire day became suddenly still and all around us was nearly silent. I studied the boulders, snow, and deep couloirs that trickled down from the summit of Longs. I looked at what I could make out of Chasm View and the North Face above it, the snowpack over top of it still somehow hanging on. I breathed deeply. “This may just take everything,” I whispered to myself. I turned around and looked at Matt, “look at her, she’s just so damn beautiful.” He smiled and nodded slowly, “oh she is.” I could tell we were both thinking about the same thing. We had to get up on Long’s.

    Not yet but two weeks later were Matt and I standing in the boulder field below the last push to the summit. The sun began to poke over the ridges beyond to the east and I looked back up at the clouds. They would shield the sun for at least until the early afternoon. This would allow us to have a fairly consistent snowpack. The wind was dead, it was pretty warm for how high up we were, and if the sun shone directly on the snow and ice that covered the cable route, things would get too unstable. We had to use this window to reach the summit.

    Matt and I hiked to an outcropping of rocks that jutted out from the ridge between Mt. Lady Washington and Chasm View. There, we agreed that we would only need certain gear, food, and water for the summit. We stashed the unneeded equipment, pulled on our harnesses, and I went to work flaking out the rope. Hopefully we wouldn’t need it, but it was better to have it out regardless. From the point that we were at, we would need to cross an open and fairly steep snowfield that lead up to the beginning of the “technical” section of an ascent up the north face commonly referred to as the cable route. After that, the two of us would trade belays and leads dry-tooling up the steepest part of the route, and then traverse another snowfield until we would scramble up the last grouping of boulders right below the summit. In theory, everything would go smoothly.

    I wasn’t worried about the level of protection that we would have through the technical portion of the route. The “cable route” itself used to actually be one of the most-used routes up to the summit until they removed the large, steel cable (hence the name) that comprised what people would hold onto as they climbed to the peak. The only thing left over was a few very large eye-bolts the cable was once pulled through. They would serve well as points leading up. All you would have to do is pull a sling through them and girth hitch it off. No sweat.

    What I was a little worried about however, admittedly was the snowpack before and after the technical section. The slope itself was still reasonably steep, and in the back of my mind was always the possibility that it could give way at any moment. The clouds above would help us out with that. I looked up at the sky one more time before Matt stretched out twenty feet of rope between the two of us. Hopefully the clouds would hold off the heat of the sun for a little while longer. I coiled the remaining rope on my end and put it over one shoulder, “simul system?” I asked as I looked up to Matt. He nodded and fed the rope through the ATC attached to the front of his harness, “yeah, just arrest with your axe when the other person slips. We can get a belay from there.” I nodded and screwed down the locking carabiner on my ATC, “we aren’t going to fall.” Matt smiled and looked up to study the summit push, “that’s certainly one way to look at it.” Both of us jammed the gear we were stashing at that point under a rock and continued up in silence.

    About fifteen to twenty feet or so into our ascent up the first snowfield before the technical section, both Matt and I paused and made eye contact. I kicked a few more steps to become level with Matt, “the snow seems reasonably good for now.” Matt blew snot out of his nose and then agreed with me, “yeah. Let’s just keep noise and large movements to a minimum just in case.” I honestly couldn’t have said it better than him at that moment if I tried.

    The two of us continued farther up, keeping a good distance between to stabilize our weight over the snowpack. About ten or so feet from the spot where we would make our first anchor for the cable route section of the north face, one of Matt’s ice tools on the back of his pack came loose and clattered down the slope towards me to my right. I looked up to Matt quickly and then sprawled to my right. Almost on instinct Matt arrested into the slope immediately, and I jammed my axe in likewise once I landed. I caught the handle of the tool by the tips of my right hand. The two of us couldn’t help but smile like idiots in that moment. Matt laughed quietly and slowly got himself up from the position of arrest, “good catch, man.” I nodded back and handed him his tool, “yeah, no sweat.” We continued on.

    Upon reaching the first anchor on the cables section of the route, Matt set up a sling through a few pieces of gear, and flaked out the section of the rope he had coiled over his shoulder. I did the same. We each took a big breath, Matt got out his ice tools, and I belayed him for the first lead. During the summer, when it is clear of snow and ice, the cable route is at most graded at 5.4 difficulty. To that end, it’s become one of the more popular routes for beginning alpine climbers to have their first lead in high-altitude conditions. In the winter however, the line becomes something of a different animal. While a lot of the large chockstones and ledges are still accessible even with the layer of snow and verglass over top, the rock becomes increasingly slippery and moderately difficult to find footholds on. This is a polar opposite to the usually tacky and sticky granite that our area of the Rockies (and the Rockies as a whole I should say) are known for. Regardless, we continued on. Our tools and crampons had no real difficulty finding points to stick on, we just had to go a little slower than we would have liked and focus a lot on being more careful. All that being said, I was just happy to be there in that moment. 

Matt reached the top of the first pitch and set up an anchor on the last eye bolt accessible through the snow. I quickly joined him there, gathered what gear I needed for the second pitch, and popped out over the ledge in front of us. From there I traversed right to the bottom of the second snowfield and set up a pretty sketchy anchor off of a few slings I threw over a large chockstone. I certainly wasn’t very much proud of how it looked, but it would get the job done. Matt came up the same way and joined me at the top of the boulder I was nearly hugging during the belay. From this point would be the last push to the summit. Nothing too complicated, just another spooky snowfield to push across.

The clouds were nearly showing the sun at this point and both of us knew that we needed to start hauling ass in order to have a decent chance of getting down okay. We admittedly weren’t quite sure what route we would use to get down, but in the event that we had to come down from the way we came, it would be really nice not to come down in the middle of an avalanche. Matt and I put together the same rope system between us that we had done for the snowfield below, and continued up. By this point I could very much feel the altitude. I’ve always had a hard time getting in enough food and water at anything above 13,500’, as I just straight up lose my appetite, so that probably contributed to the fatigue I was feeling as well. Matt and I continued to kick step our way through the last ten feet. I could nearly see the familiar features of the summit now, plus the addition of windswept snow. There was nearly not even a breeze now at this point and it hit me as how much a rarity that is on Long’s, especially this close to the summit.

We crested over the last few boulders before the summit and Matt and I looked at each other. There were tears building in the corners of Matt’s eyes. He nodded in approval slowly and looked up towards the summit in front of us, “this is it.” I shook my head in agreement, and opened my mouth, “everything changes after this, there are no excuses anymore.” It was the same thing that I said when I had summited Long’s for the first time a little over a year earlier. I meant to do that because again, after this, everything would become different. I would again loose another excuse to climb harder peaks. I would go to another level of climbing ability, with the addition of the confidence to get me there.

The two of us gained the last rise and walked across the scattered boulders of the large summit bloc. There was not even that of a breeze across the open summit, and the sun was still just barely covered behind the wall of clouds above us moving slowly away from the divide. “What a day” I huffed to Matt, and we both smiled at each other. I was pretty whipped at this point and I popped of my pack and laid down on one of the sun-warmed rocks among the snow drifts. Matt did the same thing and plopped down on the large open boulder next to me. He huffed out a large exhale and laughed a little bit, “damn.” I looked down from where I was standing, assessing the weather beyond us, “yeah, damn man.” I nodded slowly as I walked over to where the keyhole route crests over the homestretch section and reaches the summit. In the ice and snow that lead up from it I could make out the tracks of crampons. They were very fresh, no more than a few days or so old. This was promising. This could be a more concrete route to take down than follow the north face from where we came up. The snow this way would probably still be questionable, but a lot less questionable that the giant slab that made up the face we summited over moments before.

I spun around and excitedly boulder hopped back over to Matt. I was moving quick enough my crampons nearly tripped me on a few rocks, but I made it across the summit field intact enough to convey to him our way down. “The homestretch is open, are we going to give keyhole as our move?” Matt’s face perked up as he reached into his pack, “I guess that’s the move!” I was relieved enough at this point to relax for the moment. The clouds above were still ominous with how they would release the full thermal energy of the sun on the snowpack that we would take down in a few moments. Regardless, Matt pulled out a single IPA he hauled up there, and we took a few moments to drink it. “Same rope system as before?” I looked to Matt as I passed him the half-full bottle. “Yeah, just keep track of the movement of the snow,” he replied. I could see in his eyes he wasn’t feeling the greatest at the moment either. We would have to get down from the summit bloc soon enough to dodge the next snow system beyond us on the horizon. There was a lot to think about and my mind was pretty fuzzy. I don’t think it was the half-bottle of beer I drank at this point either.

The two of us hoisted our packs back up and made sure the rope was tended enough to begin the descent. After the first few steps down the homestretch, we each knew that we had made the right decision, I just hoped that the “narrows” section wouldn’t be too treacherous. I plunged the heels of my crampons into the thick ice and snow inside of the sloped troughs in the rock leading down from the homestretch onto the lower sections of the Keyhole route. Matt french-stepped in front of me carefully on the steep snow. We both looked up to the sky at the same time and agreed on the same thought-process. “I’d feel a lot better about now if we were off of all this steep stuff before that sun fully comes out from behind the clouds,” Matt huffed to me as we continued on. “Yeah, I’d have to agree,” I exhaled back, “I was about to say the same thing.” We nodded at each other once more and continued on into the Narrows section of the Keyhole route.

Only in a few spots through the Narrows section did we really even have to kick steps. Admittedly, Matt was doing most of that anyways, so I was gifted enough with the task of keeping track of the excess rope while Matt did most of the step-cutting. On the short sections when we did have to kick steps, or cut them out of the slope, the movement was monotonous. The fact that both of us were exhausted and pretty sick didn’t help either. The length of the day was taking it’s toll and the high-altitude environment in the cold didn’t contribute anything more that added difficulty. I was hot enough while moving to not need many layers, but everytime we would reach somewhere that we would have to move across more carefully, I was left shivering with every step. The spring is the best time to make attempts like these on the high summits, but the weather certainly gartered with it a more than fair-share of difficulties.

As we neared the end of the keyhole route, the familiar spires of the Keyhole itself rose on either side of us as we passed through them. Both of us took a deep breath, and sat for a moment before descending to the lower edge of the snowfield at the top of the boulderfield. We were nearly delirious with fatigue and lack of sleep. This wouldn’t have been as much an issue now if it weren't for the fact that our excess gear was stashed higher on the opposing ridge off of Mt. Lady Washington, at the beginning of the North Face route.

“We’re going to have to get it one way or another,” I grunted out to Matt about the gear as I squeezed myself between two of the large boulders coming down from the Keyhole. “Yeah, it’d just a pain in the ass that we have to go all the way back up there.” Both of us huffed a little from the increased fatigue. I could see it in Matt’s eyes that he was tired. I was nearly blown. We would have to summon some extra strength in order to secure the cache above us. I looked to Matt after thinking over our predicament a little further, “I’ll go up there and get it.” A concerned look on Matt’s face grew as I finished what I was saying, “You don’t need to do that.” I nodded and continued, “one of us has to be coherent on the hike down. You’re a better navigator than I am.” Matt nodded and helped me take off my pack, “Alright, just don’t you dare hesitate to yell if you need help, ok?” I shook my head and shuffled upwards towards the cache near the top of the ridgeline before us, “I should be back in a second.” We both smiled. My legs hurt.

I moved slowly up the slope. With each step, I was reminded more and more of the monstrous effort Matt and I had exerted hours earlier in the day going up the North Face. With the altitude killing my appetite for food or water, I wasn’t doing well on that end either. I forced more water into my mouth from my camelbak and choked it down. I honestly didn’t want to have anything in me at this moment, but I knew that I needed it. I could barely see the color of the bags that we had left a little farther above me. Only a little bit more now and we could let gravity do the rest of the work to end the day.

I grabbed the stashed gear, pulled it together as best I could, and stuffed it into the empty pack that I brought up there with me. Thank God I wouldn’t have to go upwards for the rest of the day. I could barely feel my calves and lower thighs at this point they were so blown. I nearly tripped most of the way back down the slope to where Matt was resting and collapsed into a heap next to him. “I need to sit down for a minute.” I huffed out to Matt. He smiled, “Go on and do that, I think you may have just earned it.” We both nodded and I closed my eyes, spread out in the sun on a big slab of rock.

It felt like only a few seconds, but in actuality about 20 or so minutes later, Matt was kicking me awake, “Weather’s changing fast, Trent. We better go.” I opened my eyes and the sun that had just peeked out from behind the clouds had disappeared. Around us were low-laying clouds, and I could feel flurries of snow whip across my face. I stood up slowly and was reminded of the burning sensation in my legs. I looked to Matt after hoisting my pack back on, “yeah, let’s go home.” Utilizing the trekking poles that we had brought with as we normally do, we used them for stability on our tired legs in order to make short work of the hike back down. With each step towards the trailhead and Matt’s car was a shunt of deep-set soreness and dull pain, but behind it, the sweet, sweet feeling that we had just accomplished something. And accomplish something that day I can assure you we did.