Mountaineering Trip to the PNW Part 3: BORAH

Let me preface this trip report by saying that driving 700 miles in one day before a major mountain climb is not the best idea.  Especially when the gear shop you're renting from opens at 10am.  So despite a late start, we headed to the east, following the stunning Columbia River gorge on I-84 for many miles.  There was no snow, and plenty of rain (welcome to the PNW!), though things cleared up a bit as we moved past the Cascades.

As Noah accuses me of saying on multiple occasions, I thought eastern Oregon looked very much like New Mexico.  It is much drier here than on the west side of the mountains, and because of this dryness, you get a lot of the same flora that you see in NM.  Not to mention the landscape somehow matches up eerily well.

Once in Idaho, we had to cross the southern tip of the Sawtooth Mountains, in a strange late evening light that was augmented with a snow squall and diffused moonlight trying to peek through the clouds.  Following US-20 eastward is straight and straight for miles, nearly putting me to sleep after so much driving already.  We dipped through the northern section of Craters of the Moon National Monument, and the snow clouds had cleared, leaving a bright moon to light up the surrounding mountains.  It was perhaps one of the more beautiful nights I've driven through. From Arco, ID, it was 40 miles north to the beloved Borah trailhead.  Driving between the mountain ranges like this was stunning, and we kept waiting for Borah to be around the next bend in the valley, though at night, everything tends to blend together.  We saw a worrying amount of deer and elk on the roads, which was not fun in my tired condition.

We had been concerned about the approach road, Birch Springs, as it's a forest road and it was impossible to find out if it was plowed or not.  Calling the Forest Service provided us with a conditions report, saying there were many feet of snow drifts, and a 2WD van would not make it up.  We were expecting to add 3 miles each way to our expedition, with 1000 feet of gain.  Pulling into the road, we saw it was plowed with hardly any snow on the ground, just a few patches of ice.  We stopped at the RV turnout just shy of the summer parking area.  Let's just say that dinner was hastily made and we wanted sleep badly.  We had gotten in at about 10pm MST.

Borah, morning of 2.19.16

Mountains to the west

The morning was cold and uncomfortable.  We made breakfast and organized our gear, which I would have preferred to do the night before.  We got a late start by alpine standards...I mean the sun was already up behind the mountain and lighting up the Sawteeth to the west.

We hiked on snowshoes to the summer parking area and found already a problem with Noah's boots.  He was wearing the same model of boots I had, but his feet were already painfully numb.  I knew if we didn't warm them up now, there was no way of continuing.  He had footwarmers, so I was confused why his feet were so cold.  We take off the boots and I discover summer hiking socks.  Perhaps one of the most important parts of our gear, we had failed to discuss beforehand.  Assumptions are be deadly...however, luckily I was prepared, so I had him take my spare winter socks from my pack and put those on over the other socks.  He added extra warmers to the boots and he laced back up.

Not 10 minutes later, Noah told me his feet weren't getting better.  I thought, there is no way we can climb today - what else could possibly be making his feet cold with winter insulated boots, plenty of socks, and two sets of warmers?  Then I realized maybe his feet were in too tight, cutting of blood-flow to his toes.  We stopped and I told him I'd warm his feet my blowing on them until he was comfortable and the inner socks had to come off.  This, if nothing else, was my lesson for this climb.  I learned more about foot warmth and what you need to be prepared if you or your climbing partner gets very cold feet.  Not enough insulation and you are cold, too much and you cut off circulation.  After what felt like a long time, his feet were getting better, and I was feeling a little dizzy from all the blowing, but I had him strip the inner socks and keep the thick socks he was borrowing.  I knew the warmth from me wouldn't last so I told him once the snowshoes were back on, we had to get moving immediately.  After a little bit of climbing, he reported an improvement.  Frostbite averted!

The climbing was challenging here not because of slope, but because there are zero markings that are visible with 3-4 feet of snow on the ground.  I was going purely based on my memory of where the trail goes and some possible human or animal tracks.  The snow was not all hard packed, so finding a route with no postholing was impossible.  We would break through every so often, which was irritating.  The leader would frequently switch off to keep us both relatively fresh.  As we followed the side of a drainage gully, the snow was getting much deeper and not so solid.  I knew we had to cross the gully, then we would head up to the left with a right-hand slope.  Shortly after we crossed, I suggested we switch from snowshoes to crampons.  We left the shoes on the side of the trail to save weight.

This was Noah's first time wearing crampons in the field.  We had practiced putting them on at the gear shop, but I was there to help, since I had worm them throughout the winter in Maine.  Immediately the benefits were obvious.  With such a slope, we were squishing down less snow with the crampons than the shoes, and the going was much easier.  We brought out the axes at this point for safety and stability.

Right before the first top-out

We topped out at the first flat area, which I believe only took me 30 minutes when I climbed in May 2015.  This portion had taken 3 hours this time.  A considerable difference and not one to be ignored.  The going was slow and was going to be slow for the rest of the climb.  From this flat area, the trail hooks to the right and follows the ridge the the summit, so it should have been fairly simple.  However, in summer, it is clear that the trail has many short switchbacks that weave up the ridge.  Everything was buried this time.  We decided since we cutting through an enormous amount of snow, to ascend directly up the ridge.

Several problems arose because of this decision.  There are many dead and twisted trees lying on the ground in this forest, and those kept tripping us up, not to mention the actual direction we needed to go was hard to follow due to the rounded nature of the slope.  I was having altitude problems already, and we were still several thousand feet below the summit.

Me trying to act energized

We just decided to take it slow, take breaks when we needed, and switch who was breaking trail often.  I recall one place we took a break, at a nice log to sit and eat a snack.  I began leading again, pushing through snow that was at least up to my waist.  The crust on top was getting thicker, and required breaking with my thighs or hands first before I could proceed.  I was making progress, then I looked back and had only made it about 6 feet.  I was feeling dismal.  I did my best, but Noah ended up having to break the trail for much more of the time.  I was used to thick snow and slopes, but I was not used to the altitude.  I just get sleepy with altitude, not so much the sick symptoms that some people report.  That did not help my progress though, since taking a nap doesn't move you up the hill so fast.

With Noah leading, he got fairly far ahead of me, still in sight, but not all the time because of trees.  Slow and steady was my mantra.  Noah told me to breathe deeply with each breath, as that would help me get as much oxygen as I could.  I tried this, and found some improvement in my pace, though it was still slow as death.  And it took all my concentration to do this.

I remember at one point I was leading again, and I suggested we head to the right because I was able to see some mountains off that way.  I wanted to see them, primarily because that was about my only motivation to continue at that point.  The sun had come out and was lighting up the snow so bright.  The wind had also picked up as we were higher up on the ridge, approaching the tree line.  The snow had gotten harder, and I was able to make it for periods of time walking on top of the snow.

As we ascended, a view of Dickey Peak to the north materialized, and it was then that Noah decided that was a place he wanted to be.  A strong resonance was found between him and the mountain.  Perhaps we will add that to another climbing trip in the future...

Dickey Peak to the north

One of the last trees we saw, and Dickey Peak

It was around 7.5 hours in to the climb when we finally broke tree line.  I remembered from my previous climb, that there was still a fair climb above tree line, and then we would top out at the edge of the western basin of Borah.  Noah was leading once again, ice axe in hand, looking like a mountain man once again!

Looking south to Mt. Idaho

A view of Borah's peak appeared as I came to the rim.  It was truly an experience being there once again.  I ate here; we took a breather.  I had to have a reality check.  With 8.5 hours used up to make it 2.5 miles, was there a chance we could make the summit before dark?  I didn't want to be above tree line in the dark, with high exposure.  The time was 4:40 MST and that certainly didn't leave very much time to get up another 2000 vertical feet and back down in time for dusk.  We continued a little bit further along the rim with the basin to our left to an estimated 10,600'.  We had the talk.  Did we want to turn back?  What did success mean on this mountain?

Noah mentioned than his nose and feet were getting cold.  I had the talk with myself, about whether to continue.  I saw the beautiful peak in front of me.  Its alternate name is actually Beauty Peak, according to the old USGS maps.  We saw some darker clouds rolling in from the north.  It was the mountain's way of saying that we weren't going to summit today.  We were at a high point along the basin rim, and decided it would be there that we turn around.  I wanted to thank the mountain for allowing us to get as far as we did.  I flew 3500 miles and drove another 700 to thank a piece of rock and say that I'd be back again.  If mountaineering is ever emotional, this is the place where it is.  Where you turn back.  You are balancing your drive and will power to make it to the summit, colloquially known as summit fever, and your own survival and reasoning.  There is not much else that powers climbed to climb aside from will power and the fact that some mountains make us feel at home, and to have to overcome that drive is certainly a challenge.  Especially the second time.

Farewell to Borah...at least this time

We snapped some pictures, and I quickly brought out a balaclava for Noah's nose, since I was warm enough with my winter-weight hiking buff.  We removed the crampons for most of the descent, which took Noah some getting used to since it was still his first time using them.  We moved quickly down to the tree line, where things didn't get any easier.  The blowing snow had filled in most of our tracks, so we still had to bust through a few feet of snow on the descent, as well as watch for the trees and punji sticks.  There was a fair bit of falling over.

The day was dwindling as we made our way back down, knowing that we were on our way to safety instead of perhaps being blown down into a chasm thousands of feet deep.  Back at the lowest flat area on the trail, we put on the headlamps as the light was nearly gone.  The moon had just risen above the mountain behind us, and it was pink!  We soon found ourselves back at the snowshoe cache, and putting those on was a relief since our trail in the lower half of the trail was already broken.  The going was much easier, despite being exhausted.  With hydration and some cookies taken care of, we were on the move once again.  Looking behind us, the moon was lighting the clouds up from the top, and showing how rapidly they were moving.  We were glad not to be in the high winds anymore.

We got the summer parking area and continued down the road to our parking spot, ready to either eat half our week's food supply, or to just topple into bed immediately.  We arrived at the van 12 hours after departure in the morning.

Noah did the whole bed thing immediately, however I was craving some food, so I ate something and swore a fair bit while doing dishes in the sub-freezing temps outside.  I slept soundly and for a long time.

Success for me on Borah this time meant getting to be there for a second time...a place that I thought I would never see again.  Success meant getting to see the peak from the basin rim, even if that was 2000 feet below summit elevation, and it meant getting both of us down to the van without frostbite or other injuries.  At this point, I know I will come back to Borah...I don't care if it's my white whale, but I will keep trying as hard as the mountain makes me.  It is truly a beautiful place to be.  I didn't mention it above so much, but looking around up on this mountain provides you with some of the best endless mountain views I've seen.  It is so rugged, yet calm and gentle.  Then you remember that Borah rose 7 feet in an earthquake in 1983, and you realize that it's truly a rugged and wild place.  Just the kind of place I want to be in.

Google Earth Track/Profile

Hike Details
Miles hiked: 5.0
Time elapsed: 12 hours
Total ascent: 3420'