Clemenceau Icefields - Front Range Magazine

Day Four - Mt. Clemenceau 2nd Attempt

W awake at 4:30 to clear skies and beautiful stars! Very quickly everybody is wide awake, despite the crazy hour, and very keen to get going on what we're all hoping will be The Day.

By 6:00 we're walking across the Tusk glacier to the base of Clemenceau. The sky is brightening, and soon beautiful alpenglow touches the surrounding peaks, but we have no time for this, as all of our energy is focused on moving up Clemenceau as quickly as possible. Due to yesterday's fresh snow, our tracks have been erased, and we're going to have to break trail again, which will slow us down. Fortunately, we meet two other Calgarians, who are also attempting the mountain that day. They get up onto the glacier ahead of us, and proceed to break trail, following the wands that we left behind on our previous attempt to mark our route. Thanks, guys! Thanks to our trail-breaking friends and our previous day's route-finding we are able to reach our previous high point very quickly, and within three hours of leaving camp we are starting on the 2nd half of the mountain, into new terrain.

At our previous attempt's high point., the weather continues to be absolutely stunning, we've reached this point very quickly, and we're all very pumped to get up this mountain!

Less than an hour past our previous high point we are barred from moving up by a huge crevasse system that spans the entire width of the glacier. We stand at the edge of the chasm and study it's stunning but frustrating complexity, looking left and right for a possible way through it. We split up into three groups and scout left and right in an attempt to find a route that will allow us to get past this monster and on up the mountain.

After nearly an hour we decide that the passage that Jocelyn has found looks to be the best option. We set up an anchor and full belay, and Jocelyn leads across the crevasse, then we all follow on the now-fixed rope, for speed. The snow bridge proves to be solid. At this point our trail-breaking friends decide not to follow us, turn back and head down to camp. It's now 11:30, and we're just starting up the top half of the mountain.

Marc belays Jocelyn across the best way that we could find across this glacier-spanning crevasse. In the background are the growing clouds. Photo: Alex Wright.

Once across the crevasse we have two choices - either try to get back on the normal route, which looks like it has fallen out of shape due to gaping crevasses, or head straight up a towering face that leads up to the south summit, from which we will have to traverse a ridge to the main summit.

The face itself looks good - maybe 300-400m vertical of 45 degree snow and ice, but the connecting ridge is heavily corniced and may present some problems. Once on the face we will still have the option of breaking left in the middle of the face to get back on the normal route.

Jocelyn and Normand climbing up the face, ready to swap leads as we work our way up the face to the south summit.

The decision is made to go up the face to the south summit, and Jocelyn and I swap leads, setting up running belays to keep the climbing quick and safe. The conditions on the face are good, with snow depth varying from 10cm to knee-deep on top of ice. The snow depth is a cause for concern later in the day, if we decide to come down the same way, since by then the sun may have warmed the snow enough that avalanches are a possibility.

Alex and Jocelyn getting ready to set out up the summit ridge. The main summit is the large block at the end of the ridge - tantalizingly close.

All day long valley moisture has been rising, and cumulous clouds are building below us. This is another source of concern, since being on top of the highest mountain in the area is no place to be if thunderstorms should develop! Fortunately the clouds seem to avoid the Clemenceau summit, even though by now most of the surrounding peaks have their heads buried in cloud. We climb quickly, keeping a wary eye on the threatening weather, and top out on the south summit just before 4:00.

The summit ridge is a stunning sight! Big cornices lean out over the east face, which is lost in fog that has formed as the wind comes up the face, and flows over the ridge, causing a pressure drop and the moisture to condense. Now more than ever, on top of the ridge and fully exposed to the weather, speed equals safety, and we pause only long enough for a quick bit of food and water before starting up the ridge.

Initially the summit ridge proves to be easy traveling. On our left the slope drops down about 300m at about 60 degrees to the glacier, interrupted by a large crevasse system 2/3 of the way down. On the right, hidden in the fog, is the huge east face of the mountain, dropping over 2000m into treed valleys. Very occasionally the fog clears and we are allowed a glimpse down the east face - a view that makes us all gasp at the exposure. Looking down over 2000m feels like you're looking out an airplane window - only without the window or seatbelt. The cornices are all overhanging on that side, and Jocelyn, guided by those behind him, threads a fine line between the steep slope to our left and the huge void to our right. It's an incredibly beautiful and spooky place.

Partial panorama from the summit ridge. The billowing fog on the right side of the ridge hides the immense drop down the east face, and clouds all around are threatening to enclose us in a whiteout.

Following our footsteps back along the ridge, now fully fogged in.

Unfortunately our progress along this ridge comes to an end with only a few hundred meters and maybe 30 vertical meters to go to the main summit. Ahead of us is a large break in the ridge that ends with a very unstable-looking mushroom-like cornice. To get around this barrier we have to traverse the 300m on the steep (60-70 degree) slope on the left side of the ridge, which would take us probably two hours to get there and back.

The weather is now coming in very quickly, and we really have no choice but to turn around. So close - we can almost throw a snowball to the summit!

Shortly after turning around we are totally socked-in by a cloud, and all regrets about not reaching the main summit disappear as the weather goes all to hell. We retrace our footsteps in a whiteout, our only thoughts now are to get off the ridge and down the mountain before dark.

We've pushed the turn around time very hard, and it's now 5:00. The goal is to get through all of the crevasse fields before darkness sets in, which gives us maybe five hours to descend.

After the angle of the face eases off, we are able to stop rappelling and simply downclimb the face.

Fortunately, because we had turned around, we were able to follow our footsteps back down the mountain, and so the fog did not cause any navigation problems - it was just spooky and cold!

We rappel four pitches down the face, then downclimb as the angle eases off, and work our way back through the big crevasse and onto a large bench, where we finally get below the cloud ceiling and break out of the fog. It's great to be able to see again, and we take a short break for food and water before continuing.

We still have two major crevassed areas to get through, and by now it's around 8:30. The clouds are lit up with the light of the setting sun, and although it's astonishingly beautiful, being this high up on a mountain is no place to kick back and watch the sunset!

A stunning sunset, but it's nearly 9:00 and we're far too high up on a mountain to enjoy it for long.

By now we are all so tired that it's getting hard to stay focused. As soon as you stop moving and sit down, the intense exhaustion washes over you, and it's very hard to get up and get moving again. Breaks are not allowed, though, and we push on, retracing our track as fast as possible, and get down to the short cliff-band at the bottom of the glacier as the last light fades from the sky. Putting on headlamps, we scramble the few meters down to a snow slope, and with whoops of joy, boot-ski down to the Tusk icefield. Off the mountain at last!

Now that we're down on flat ground and the danger gone, the adrenaline that had been fueling us is also gone, and our energy levels sink to almost nothing. The lumpy snow on the icefield causes us to stagger like drunks as we walk back to camp. It seems like an eternity, but in reality it's less than an hour. Home sweet home! It's a great feeling to be back in camp, where's there's food, warmth and safety. After wolfing down a quick pot of thick soup we collapse into our bags and sleep like the dead.