This entry featured as an article at livingbozeman.com
“I want to do something big on Friday.” I tell friend and photographer Ryan Day Thompson. “I am thinking Gallatin Peak.” I continue. Ryan's face drops and I can tell that the thought of a 16+ mile day hiking in snow does not appeal to him.
It is Monday and we are standing in the
Eye
in the Sky in Big Sky, MT. Eye in the Sky
owner, Kene Sperry, sits on a couch shuffling through some paperwork.
Ryan glances up from the floor and suggests, “What about Beehive?”
I consider his point for a moment. Beehive
Peak has a shorter approach, the landscape is
stunning, and the climbing challenging. I agree and we hash out
details for Friday.
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| On the approach. |
Friday morning is warm and gray. A
storm threatens, but there is little precipitation. It is 9:30 a.m.
And I find myself stuck on a sad patch of snow in a rock constriction
in the southeast couloir of Beehive Peak. The wind howls like a
freight train scouring my face with snow that feels like sand paper.
Adding insult to injury my pack straps whip into my face hitting me
square on the lips. The slap stings and I run my tongue across my
bottom lip expecting to taste blood. My frustration is on the rise
when suddenly my prescription sport glasses ice over and I can see
nothing. All of this is going on while I awkwardly attempt to strap
into my crampons without tumbling backwards down exposed rock and out
of the gully.
I scream! I curse! The wind howls
louder. My foot slips and adrenaline jolts my system. I curse again.
I take a deep breath and calm down. I wipe the ice off of my lenses
and refocus on strapping into my crampons. I manage the left one then
have to rest, because my calves are tiring from standing in such a
tense position for so long. I take another deep breath and somehow
slip my right foot into its crampon. I relax feeling the spikes dig
into the snow and rock.
I unholster my ice axe and retighten my
pack. I look up at the low angle rock and ice above me and make
another attempt. My left foot finds the tiniest home in a narrow
strip of ice while my right foot stems out to rock. I work rock holds
with my right hand and try to sink my pick into anything with my left
hand. I move up a few feet. Rock holds run out and I desperately
swing my axe looking for something, anything, so that I can move my
feet higher. The ice axe real estate market is no good and I am
forced back down to my sad patch of snow.
Deflated, I am ready to turn back and
descend the little bit of the gully I have climbed. I glance out to
my left at more low angle rock and suddenly see all the moves come
together. I tip toe out a ledge inches wide then holster my axe to
climb up blocks and ledges to the top of the constriction. The
climbing is delicate, but easy and a huge relief compared to the
frustration I felt earlier. Soon I am above the constriction and post
holing in deep snow to the top of the gully.
 |
| Howling wind in the southeast couloir. |
At the top I plop down behind a rock to
escape the wind. The backside of the ridge is calm. I look up at the
5th class summit ridge traverse called Follow
the Swarm and assess my options. I can see the
wind blowing snow off of the ridge and imagine the misery. Visibility
is low and continuing up the route seems like a bad idea. I leave my
pack by the rock and make a few steps up the ridge to test the
waters. The wind slams into my left side and my glasses start to
glaze with ice and snow. I turn back and decide to down climb the
southeast couloir.
Back in the basin I dig a hole beside a
boulder to hide from the wind. I devour a bagel and text Ryan to see
if we are still on track for our 3 p.m. meet up. I finish the bagel
and feel my toes getting cold. I leave the hole to walk around and
warm up. It is 12:30 p.m. now. I am going to freeze waiting for Ryan.
I get a text from Ryan. The bad news is that Ryan cannot make it due
to unforeseen circumstances and will not get to shoot photos of me
climbing. The good news is that I can start climbing, which will warm
me back up. I head for the 4th of July Couloir and start
post holing up the wide gully.
I move steadily up the couloir to the
col where the 4th class descent gully continues up to the
right. I continue past this gully for 20 yards to a second gully,
which I will take to the summit. Here I find some wind scoured bullet
proof snow and am glad to already have my crampons on. The gully
opens up into a small bowl. I climb to the top of the bowl and
traverse across the the top to the final gully below the summit
block. I holster my ice axe for the 4th class rock section
and pull my way over large blocks to the summit.
The wind once again smacks me in the
face as soon as I leave the shelter of the gully. The storm hammers
down blowing horizontal snow and visibility is poor. I do not linger
on the summit and only take time to snap one self portrait before
retracing my steps for the descent.
 |
| Summit self portrait. |
As I plunge step back down the 4th
of July Couloir my legs begin to transform into lead weights. The few
calories gained during lunch have long since been burned off and I
feel a full on energy bonk coming.
“It's all downhill from here.” I
think to myself as I descend through the boulder field at the base of
the peak. In a daze of hunger I stumble back to the trailhead parking
lot trying to plan a feast of a dinner in my mind, but I know I only
have macaroni and cheese and tuna to look forward to.
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| Reference image. |