Dreamweaver

Note: writing trip reports has started to take a significant amount of time lately. I guess this is a good thing as it means I've been out having more adventures, but I need to start cutting down on text and let the photos speak for themselves. Of course, terse text has a way of mushrooming into full-blown narrative, so we'll see how this goes...

My friend Carissa is an avid climber of both rock and ice and has been planning a trip up the famous Dreamweaver couloir all season. Dreamweaver is a long mixed ice/snow/rock climb up the north face of Mt. Meeker (13,911'), the tallest neighbor of Long's Peak. I would join her and her two ice-stud friends Brian and Tim for a four-person assault on this route that neither she nor I felt comfortable tackling by ourselves. Various scheduling and weather problems ensued and finally the route was pronounced in "primo" condition: enough ice over the rock steps to be an interesting AI3 ice climb in four spots with easier rock and snow in between. Unfortunately, Tim and Carissa had scheduling conflicts, so Brian and I decided to make a two-some out of it.

I rolled into the Longs Peak trailhead at 2:30 am and met the lanky, rugged Brian (we hadn't previously met) soon after along with his friend Corey who was coming along for the hike. For this climb I was carrying a load of rope, ice tools, and other gear--the total came in at an unprecedented 40 pounds. The three of us set a blistering pace up the trail and arrived at treeline at 4:30, an hour after leaving the cars.

5:23 am at 11,000'.

Looking in the Chasm from Mills Moraine at 6am. Meeker is on the left, Longs is hidden in fast-moving clouds on the right.

The Flying Buttress and the north face of Mount Meeker. The Dreamweaver route climbs the snow apron to the left of the Buttress and enters a small notch at the cliff band.

Shortly thereafter, I began to feel pretty significantly sick. Sore legs, general lethargy, chills,and zero appetite. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep (3 hours) or simply the exertion and chilling sweat of our quick (for me) hike up. To make matters worse, the wind was blowing pretty hard above treeline. By the time we reached Chasm Lake, I was feeling little better and the wind had died down only a little bit. We resolved to try the first broad snow apron of the climb and see what happened. Brian was insistent that we stay within my comfort zone on this and not do anything I was uncomfortable with. Still, we'd come all this way and it was a trip I'd been anticipating for months.

A foot of snow had fallen on the area the day before and we post-holed across the bottom of the Loft route making for the obvious Flying Buttress formation and the start of Dreamweaver. As we started the climb, I started to feel better and thought that maybe we could actually do the climb or at least the first half (there's a bail-out spot about half-way up). At 9am, part way up the apron, I noticed what was obviously the runout from an avalanche coming out of the broad Loft route basin. It was completely silent (at least from up here), and kept flowing and flowing in a most fascinating and disturbing manner. Perched as we were on the flank of a 40 degree slope of warming, soft snow, I was somewhat anxious. Forty degrees doesn't sound like much, but believe me, it's steep when you're up there!

We continued on to the top of the apron and the start of the route proper. Normally, a narrow slot, perhaps 8' wide, cuts through a cliff band and the route goes over a chockstone problem. There was enough snow that the chockstone and associated rock step were completely submerged. Brian lead the way up the steepening, narrow couloir and I followed, now using both axes for support, packing down Brian's steps into a firm boot track.

Brian applies sunscreen part way up the snow apron approach while looking at the huge avalanche appearing from behind the Flying Buttress. It kept moving for the better part of a minute! The entrance to the couloir is visible at left.

From here, the climb continued 100 meters to a second steep section, normally a mixed ice and rock chimney, but now filled with snow on top of the ice and rock. We were unroped because the snow was so soft and the climbing easy and this was, perhaps, a mistake. Brian assaulted the chimney and soon found himself in more desperate straights than he'd planned on (this is from a seasoned ice climber and mountaineer) and wishing he'd had the rope (which was in my pack). He chopped steps, cleaned off the nasty ice, and fought his way to the bench above, announcing that there was no way in hell he was letting me try that move un-roped. No problem!

There was no easy way of getting the rope from my pack to him a hundred feet above short of me starting the tricky chimney unprotected. The day was getting late anyway and the snow was alarmingly soft. Our planned descent route was the Loft which we knew had suffered an avalanche, so we were less excited about this. I'd already learned a lot and was pretty tired, so we turned the trip and began the downclimb. Two climbers below us arrived as Brian was climbing around the upper chimney and climbed through, roped and protecting the way with rock gear. We chatted and they continued on.

Brian climbs over the first "rocky step" and into the couloir proper.

...and continues on toward the second step. This as about as far up the route as I got.

I was sufficiently wigged by the exposure that Brian belayed me down to the entrance of the couloir (a full 60 meter rope length, as it turned out). I set an anchor there with two pickets and two axes and belayed him down; not strictly neccessary as the steps were still solid, but good practice for me. From there, we stepped backwards down the boot track on the Apron until we felt comfortable glissading the rest of the way down (what a ride!).

The view of Meeker's cliff-banded north face was pretty cool from my belay perch.	The Loft avalanche takes on its true proportions from back down on flatter ground. That rock is about the size of a station wagon and the top of the Loft is 1200' above us and the avalanche slid about half that distance.

Back in the flatlands, we relaxed in the sun and checked out the avalanche. Without the Flying Buttress in the way, we could see the full extent of the slide -- it had cleared the entire lower half of the Loft and the remaining upper portion looked ready to go at any minute. The wind had subsided to a strong breeze and the day was quite warm. We hiked back out to Chasm Meadow, relaxed a little while longer, and then made our long and painful (for me) way back to the trailhead arriving at about 4:45.

It's a shame we didn't make the summit, but considering the high winds in the morning and my altitude sickness (or whatever it was), we got in a good bit of climbing and had a good time. Peer-to-peer teaching like this has always been the way I've learned outdoor skills and this was a wonderful learning experience for me. Brian was a great teacher, challenging me without taking me significantly outside my comfort zone. Many thanks to him for dragging me along and to Carissa for getting us together in the first place. I don't yet have the confidence to tackle Dreamweaver on my own, but lesser routes hold a lot less fear for me now.

The Wilderness Journal

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