Harvard Mountaineering Club

HARVARD 

MOUNT AINEERING 

Number 10 

JUNE . 1951 

THE 

HARVARD MOUNTAINEERING CLUB 

CAMBRlDGE, MASS.

HARVARD 

MOUNTAINEERING 

NUMBER 10 

JUNE, 1951 

THE 

HARVARD MOUNTAINEERING CLUB 

CAMBRIDGE, MASS.

to 

GEORGE SHANNON FORBES 

in appreciation of his faithful 

and enduring devotion to the Club

CLUB OFFICERS 

JUNEAU ICEFIELD TRAVERSE 

SEPTEMBER SELKIRKS . 

Contents 

HARVARD ANDEAN EXPEDITION, 1950 . 25 

1950 COSMIC VENTURES REPORT ON THE SOUTHERN 

SELKIRKS 40 

JUNE TETONS, 1949 47 

V ANCOUVER REVISITED 54 

THE GRANITE RANGE. 

TWO SUMMERS IN THE WIND RIVERS 

CLIMBING NOTES 

CLUB NEWS • J 

OBITUARIES 78 

CLUB MEMBERSHIP 80 

INDEX TO HARVARD MOUNTAINEERING, NUMBERS 1-10 . 84 

Additional copies of numbers 8, 9, and 10 are available at $1.00 each 

from the Harvard Mountaineering Club, Lowell House, Harvard University, 

Cambridge, Mass., U.S.A. 

5 

6 

18 

63 

74 

75 

77 

1 

.1 

i 

j 

I 

l 

I 

1 

1 deceased 

2 graduated February, 1951 

3 . 

sprtng term 

4, fall term 

Club Officers 

1949-50 

FRANCIS P. MAGOUN, III, President 

FREDERICK L. DUNN, Vice-President 

1 GRAHAM McNEAR, Secretary 

IRVING L. FISK, Secretary 

SEVERO M. ORNSTEIN, Treasurer 

1950-51 

2 JAMES C. MAXWELL, President 

3 THOMAS O. NEVISON, President 

4, TIiOMAS O. NEVISON, Vice-President 

3 THAYER SCUDDER, Vice-President 

RICHARD H. KIMBALL, Secretary 

CHARLES H. BELL, Treasurer 

1951-52 

THAYER SCUDDER, President 

CHARLES H. BELL, Vice-President 

F. BRUCE GERHARD, Secretary 

RICHARD H. KIMBALL, Treasurer 

ADVISORY COUNCIL 

KENNETH A. HENDERSON, Chairman 

HENRY S. HALL, JR. 

H. ADAMS CARTER 

BENJAMIN G. FERRIS 

H. BRADFORD WASHBURN 

WILLIAM L. PUTNAM 

W. V. GRAHAM MATTHEWS 

ROBERT H. BATES (resigned 1950) 

F ACUL TY ADVISERS 

PROF. GEORGE S. FORBES, Emeritus 

PROF. HASSLER WHITNEY 

THOMAS O. NEVISON, Journal Editor 

[ 5 ]

a steep 1,000 foot icy couloir for which the peak is named. We 

climbed up this to a pinnacled ridge and scrambled up another 

hundred feet to the summit. We were tired from over thirty-six 

hours of hard physical work and took time out to watch the evening 

shadows lengthen. We thought the view of our proposed route 

on the north ridge of the Sword interesting to say the least. 

On the sixteenth Fred and Bud went to attempt the Sword 

while Bill and Georgia climbed part way up the gully on the 

right side of the main summit of the Paw. The rains came causing 

a rapid retreat of both parties but not before the first had collected 

an old cache of pitons on the ridge and the second determined that 

the couloir on the Paw was a poor and dangerous route. We were 

already tolerably sure of this last fact because an incessant. clatter 

of falling rocks could be heard in the vicinity of an exposed traverse 

higher up above the couloir. 

The next day dawned very promisingly so Fred and Bud were 

elected to climb the Sword while Bill and Georgia headed south 

seven miles to explore the Cutler, the highest summit on a ridge 

known as the Horn Peaks. I stayed at camp to collect the aerial 

drop of our supplies which absolutely had to arrive that day. In the 

afternoon three members of the Research Project arrived to set up a 

camp nearby, and they saw Fred and Bud waving from the summit 

of the Sword. The climb had proved to be very exacting, requiring 

numerous safety pitons. The impossibility of many sections of the 

north ridge had forced the climbers to stay in the shade of the east 

face for much of the route. Many overhangs constantly made it appear 

as though the route were hopeless, and the sensational exposure 

of the 2,000 foot face was not encouraging. By four o'clock they 

nevertheless reached the summit in time to see Goodwin drop our 

supplies. 

Before we left Juneau, Goodwin had told us to take care not to 

get hit during the drop. Our gear was being dropped free fall in 

twenty-five pound bundles and these could do rather permanent 

damage to most heads. He said that each of our twenty-eight 

bundles would land within two hundred yards of the tent. To our 

fury, however, his statements were not justified by the results. 

Lazily dropping from 1,000 feet he scattered bundles over three miles 

of snowy landscape. We worked late into the night digging out 

bundles and carrying them back to camp. Two were never found 

>( 9 ]

and fortunately were unimportant. The morning breakfast of 

Fred's oatmeal, scraped off the snow after three weeks in the rain, 

and boiled with a tablespoon of Klim, no salt, and no sugar-then 

burned, was forgotten in the joy of having plenty of food. 

July nineteenth produced some ominous looking clouds, but Bud 

and I skied around behind the Paw to reconnoiter our proposed 

route. Just as we turned the southeast end of the mountain the. 

clouds settled down onto the glacier, completely obscuring the view. 

Hopefully we continued, involved ourselves in an icefall somewhere 

on the north face of the mountain, and finally decided that we did 

not know exactly where we were. The expected rain appeared 

while we returned to camp following the holes made by our skipoles 

in the icy crust. At camp we found that Bill and Georgia had arrived 

with the news that the Cutler needed sneakers to be climbed 

safely. Now that the aerial drop had been made, we possessed 

sneakers and could devote ourselves more seriously to climbing. 

During more rain on the following day we were musing in our 

tents when a more thoughtful member of the party came up with 

the Michael Cycle. This natural law stated that the weather on the 

Juneau Icefield consisted of a cycle of one and one-half days of clear 

weather followed by two days of rain. To our amusement the 

cycle worked fairly well during our stay of two weeks. 

The morning of the twenty-first found us asleep in a heavy fog. 

By afternoon we decided the Michael Cycle predicted good weather 

to come and so we packed a small camp around to the north side of 

the Paw; Here Bill, Georgia, and I passed the night while Fred 

returned to our main camp. 

At dawn we began the climb up the steep glacier to the westernmost 

col. The route to the summit would have to be from the col 

or up the steep northeast ridge which extended half way down to 

camp. All morning we worked out a path to the col between numerous 

crevasses. There were three delicate snow bridges without 

which the climb might not have been possible. Skag, being unroped, 

needed much moral encouragement to cross them. Higher up when 

the glacier was about one hundred yards wide, there was a series of 

large crevasses cutting completely across it. A fourteen foot overhanging 

lip on one cost us an hour. Skag had to be hoisted up this 

on a rope along with loud protestations but otherwise he climbed 

under his own steam. 

[ 10 J 

COlwtesy of Appalach·ia Photo, rv. L. Ptttnam 

SKIING ACROSS THE JUNEAU ICEFIELD, RESEARCH PEAK IN DISTANCE 

COlwtesy of Appalachia 

Photo,W. L. Ptttnam 

MICH.AELS SWORD (LEFT) AND DEVILS PAW (RIGHT) FROM THE SOUTH

THE JUNEAU ICEFIELD 

Aerial view showing route out, looking southwest 

of Flower Tower. The others went ahead to lay a trail down the 

Mendenhall Glacier before dark. A snow slope followed by some 

gullies led to an enjoyable arete reaching up to the summit some 

thousand feet above the icefield. From the top, Devil's Paw seemed 

far away and much fresh snow mantled its deep cliffs. The peaks to 

the north in the Bemers Bay Group were strangely reminiscent of 

the Bugaboos. We hurried down and set off in the gathering twilight 

following the tracks of the advance party. A storm was building, 

and spits of rain continually annoyed us. A midnight slalom 

down the well-crevassed upper icefall of the Mendenhall Glacier was 

touchy at times, especially since a toe-plate had broken off each of 

my skis. Soon after this we lost the tracks which were guiding us 

and camped on a flat spot in the pouring rain. 

Morning brought no let up in the weather. Skis carried us 

within three miles of the Mendenhall snout; from then on we carried 

the skis. Route finding was next to impossible due to heavy 

mist,and we kept running into badly crevassed areas. Against our 

will the crevasses pushed us to the south side of the glacier, and -the 

final mile seemed to be one continuous icefall. All of us were soaking 

wet and tired from step-chopping, bushwhacking, and rock 

climbing on the cliffs at the side of the glacier. Belays were necessary 

many times and heavy packs did not help. Skagway was horrified 

at this pinnacle hopping, and force was applied by boot in a 

few places. 

Late at night we reached the highway. Our trip had proved 

a success despite bad weather, and all of our proposed ascents had 

been accomplished. We had proved the mountaineering potentialities 

of a fine new climbing area, and made the first full traverse 

of the Juneau Icefield. 

[ 17 ]

depositing a new coat of snow on the Dawson Peaks. But by evening, 

the wind had died; the rain, hail, and snow ceased, with a rosy 

hue tinting the clouds. 

The subsequent day, clear and beautiful, saw us' top Donkin 

Pass and roar down to Mitre Creek, where above its southern bank, 

on the ridge base of Cyprian Peak, we pitched our main camp. It 

was perhaps the final two hundred feet to reach the top of Donkin 

Pass that gave us the hardest climbing of the trip. Directly beneath 

the pass lay a sixty foot cliff with perhaps a climbable chimney in it, 

but below this, a steep snow slope, isolated from the glacier by a 

wicked bergschrund, made the route impractical with packs. Instead, 

we ascended from the glacier up a steep snow slope to the 

right, cutting steps to a point just below the level of the pass. Then 

we traversed the snowfield to the rocky ridge of. Donkin, still below 

its crest. Here we met some difficulty, having to cut steps up a steep 

slope of snow-covered talus alternating with ice, all with good exposure. 

An ice pulpit, hugging the ridge above our proposed route, 

afforded an excellent-belay stance from which to protect the climber 

_ cutting steps just a few feet below. Later, with a fixed rope, we 

gained the ridge crest a short distance above the pass and rapidly 

descended the southern grassy slopes to beat out the approqching 

darkness. 

The next three -days found us recoIllloitering the West Ridge 

-of Cyprian Peak, subsequently climbing Cyprian proper by a new 

and interesting route, ascendIng Donkin from the south, and runping 

excursions over to the Purity Range in an effort to peer intb 

Battle Valley. To climb Cyprian we were off early in the morning 

(for once), quickly covering the initial portion of the long West 

Ridge. This presented a fairly easy knife-edge scramble, although 

occasionally interesting bits of rock climbing and chimney work appeared. 

The ridge was characterized by numerous spires, some of 

which we made _ brief first ascents of; others, we tactfully avoided. 

By early afternoon, we were well along, but, logically, the three man 

rope found itself falling behind and decided to turn back. Harrison 

and I, eager to continue, found the route progressively easier, with\ 

belaying rio longer. necessary. Three-ten found us in the gully 

dire

leaving uncovered, however, a small rock ridge up which we 

climbed. On top the view was impressive; Augustine Peak lay 

slightly to the east, and to the south we could see portions of the 

Battle Range. On descending, we reached the camp at one A.M. the 

next morning after climbing up forested cliffs in the dark and flushing 

numerous bear-like things. 

The next day was delightfully lazy for three of us with Dunn and 

Kimball off at an early hour to explore Purity Pass and a peak to the 

west of the pass. They were kept from the summit, however, by 

snow flurries which increased in intensity during the afternoon. 

By dawn the next morning, we knew that it was time to leave. In 

camp a light rain was falling, but up on the glaciers and passes that 

had changed to snow. Rising early we had gazed out upon a mistengulfed 

world with the mist hanging in layers, but occasionally 

closing in completely to silently permeate the peaks. Quickly we 

packed up camp, rigging tarps over our packs, and set out across 

Mitre Cr,eek and east up onto the Bishops Glacier: Our objective 

that night was the Glacier Circle Hut. 

Ascending the Bishops Glacier, we reached the Deville Neve, 

running north and south. At its northern end this Neve is marked 

by an impressive icefall lying snugly between Mounts Selwyn and 

Topham, and overlooking Glacier Circle. To descend it is necessary 

to take to the cliffs on the eastern side of the icefall. Because of the 

near zero visibility, we started across the Neve too close to the icefall 

and soon found ourselves in a maze of crevasses which ran, seemingly, 

in all directions. Throughout the afternoon we toiled between 

them and up their walls cutting steps occasionally as we went, 

always looking for some rock to appear through the mist and snow. 

Finally the clouds lifted slightly, Mount Topham unshrouded itself, 

and we reached the east side of the Neve. In high spirits we dashed 

to the edge of the icefall. Glacier Circle was below us, its firs and 

pond clearly visible as a gentle rain cleared the atmosphere. 

Eagerly we waited as Fred pounded two pitons at the cliff's top. 

Then, tying the ropes together, we rappelled down into a gully, 

lowering the packs as we went. The hour was late now. After \ 

spending a few futile moments searching for an easier route down, 

we realized that unless we tr-ied a 240 foot rappel we would be 

stranded for the night. Already it was getting colder, the rain was 

changing to snow which coated the rock making route finding im- 

[22 ] 

possible. On seeing how far from the bottom the rappel rope hung, 

we sought what cover there was on a tiny ledge with a slight overhang-tying 

ourselves and packs in as best we could. Fred could 

lie down, but was almost directly in the wet, while the rest of us 

huddled or stood under the overhang as darkness came in. 

We climbed into our damp sacks, held a tarp over our heads, and 

nibbled at a can of spam. A rising wind flung rain and snow at us, 

and I could feel the water creeping slowly through the bottom of 

my sack to encircle my toes while simultaneously a steady dripping 

was saturating the rest of me. Finally the air began to cool and it 

snowed harder as the night passed slowly. 

DEVILLE ICEFALL FROM THE WUTB 

Route is up the cliff on the left 

Photo, w. R. Latady 

[ 23 ]

This would keep expedition morale high, for no mountain with 

a name like that could be very hard to climb. 

We were joined in Lima by Jack Sack, Peruvian editor of the 

Harvard Crimson. We were carrying a two-way radio in to base 

camp with which to keep Jack informed in Lima. Also joining 

the expedition were Don Juan Ormea and his son Tomas. Don 

Juan is an ornithologist and taxidermist at the Peruvian National 

University of Trujillo. The Ormeas were going to stay at base 

camp and collect birds for the American Museum of Natural History 

and the University of Trujillo, while we were climbing "Old 

Roundtop." 

Our program now was to get ourselves and 1500 pounds of equipment 

to the foot of the mountain. There we would establish a base 

camp (at about 13,000 feet), and four higher camps. F rom the 

high camp we should be able to climb to the summit and return 

in a single day. Each camp was to be a self-sufficient unit with 

tents, sleeping bags, air mattresses, a gasoline stove, and food for 

several days. 

Nine strong, we left Lima by truck on Monday, June 26, and 

it was not until the evening of June 28 that we approached the 

road's end at the town of Chiquian. 

On July 3 Jack left for Lima with the truck and the rest of us 

lifted our eyes up to the mountains. With 17 pack animals and 

the five feeblest saddle horses in the Andes we set out for the base 

of Yerupaj a. In two days we had covered 25 trail miles and were 

as far as horses could go. So at 13,400' we decided to call it base 

camp. 

In the Cordillera de Huayhuash, the wind blows nearly always 

from the east, from the Amazon Basin, and the Cordillera boasts 

one of the most monstrous aggregation of cornices ever assembled. 

Some of the cornices on Yerupaja project a hundred feet out from 

the supporting ridge. With a cornice of this size, it is easy to take 

the attitude that whatever a minute climber may do cannot bother 

so lordly a, cornice. This attitude is not always well taken. In 1948 

three Swiss climbers on Nevado Alpamrayo had a huge cornice of 

ice collapse under them. They fell about a thousand feet and are 

still alive to tell about it. ,:'\ 

To get to the base of the southwest ridge of Yerupaja, one "must 

cross over or go around the intervening north ridge of Rassac Peak 

[26 ] 

which lies to the west of Yerupaja and then climb onto and up the 

northwest glacier of Yerupaja. Dave and Austen found a route 

over the ridge above 16,000 feet and Graham, by traversing some 

interesting goat trails, reached the glacier and ascended a long way 

by its side. 

Routes both over and around the ridge had thus been found but 

we chose the higher since here strong mules would be able to carry 

gear another 1500 feet up. On July 9 three strong mules and their 

willing owner, Naptali Sombrano, were secured. Naptali was willing, 

that is, as long as he had plenty of coca to chew. Chuck had 

been sick when he arrived at base camp and was just getting back 

on his feet again, Austen was coming down with the bug, and 

Jim thought he should stay at base camp to establish radio con;tact 

with Jack. This left Dave, Graham, and me to escort the mules 

as high as they could go and establish Camp I about 500 feet 

higher. The campsite was, at about 15,200 feet, a pocket of boulders 

and grass at the base of a long reddish scree slope. We called it 

boulder pocket or boulder camp. It felt good to be underway and 

moving up the mountain at last. We hoped not to return to base 

camp until Yerupaja had been climbed. That night we had our 

first bad weather since arriving in the Cordillera, somewhat over 

an inch of snow. 

We were three cold and wet climbers in the morning. Dave and 

I pulled out at 8 :30 carrying all that would be needed to establish 

Camp II: a two man tent, two sleeping bags, "colossal" air mattresses, 

a Coleman stove, food, and" personal gear. We climbed 

slowly up the gruelling, snow covered scree. Although Rassac ridge 

'" is here a broad and often most confusing mass of small ridges, 

gullies, and tilted cliffs, a route was found through these and we 

left a trail of cairns to indicate the way to those who would follow. 

After about six hours we descended from the last shoulder of the 

ridge and set up Camp II in a level space beside the glacier at 

somewhat over sixteen thousand feet. This was glacier camp. The 

view of Rondoy and Jirishanca was superb and awe-inspiring. We 

were well above the glacier and could look directly across at their 

unassailable, avalanche-scarred faces. 

The following morning we ascended some 800 feet to make 

sure that a route could be forced onto the glacier and above. What 

we found left us encouraged and confident that the base of the 

[ 27]

two hundred feet, ate a quick lunch on top, and started down. The 

ascent had taken nine hours and was considerably slowed by the 

difficulty presented by the fresh snow. We had time for a short 

stop on the lower ridge, where it cleared gloriously just before 

sunset. 

The next day we carried camp up the Deville chimney and 

across the upper glacier to the southeast slopes of Selwyn. We 

awoKe at three A.M. on the 18th to a spectacular display of aurora. 

By four we were on our way up the east ridge of Selwyn. The early 

part was easy, and we paused to take many pictures as the sun rose 

over Topham. Gradually the ridge steepened, and we had some 

fine rock climbing just below the summit, which we reached at 

eight o'clock. 

The day was perfect and the view superb. To the south, the 

Purity range stretched out beyond the nearby Bishops. In the distance, 

the Battle range presented an inviting facade. On the horizon 

We could barely discern the ominous black outlines of the 

Bugaboos. Charlie pointed out peaks in the Rockies from Assiniboine 

to Clemenceau. To the west the flat wedge of Hasler, our 

next goal, rose slightly above us. 

After an hour we set off. We had to descend onto the broad 

col and thence across snow slopes up to a bergschrund below the 

summit. At this point we nearly crucified Charlie for running out 

of film. We had intended to cross at a snow bridge, but found an 

easier route to the left where the schrund ended abruptly at the 

south face. A short traverse on steep snow brought us to the rocks 

of the south ridge which we roughly followed to the summit. 

Another hour of. basking in the sun, and we headed down. We 

glissaded to the schrund, jumped it, and instead of returning to 

our tent, followed a long snow rib down onto the Fox glacier. From 

there we descended the lower part of the F ox ridge into the 

Circle. 

The next day we packed the rest of our supplies up to high 

camp, and on the 21st we trudged around the east end of the Bishops 

and up to the Wheeler-Kilpatrick col. The view of the now nearby 

Battles caused much shutter-clicking, after which we turned to 

our objective, Mt. Kilpatrick. The route was very simple, leading 

up over long snow slopes to the base of the summit pyramid, 

across a delicate snow bridge and onto the north ridge to the 

summit. 

[ 42] 

NORTH RIDGE OF KILPATRICK 

Summit is on the left 

Photo, C. H. Bell 

Another perfect day greeted us, and while John and I snoozed, 

Charlie gave the camera more exercise. We basked in the sun 

for over three hours before turning back down the ridge. Nearing 

camp, some oversized grizzly tracks caused us concern, but a care'" 

ful perusal with the binoculars showed that our camp hadn't been 

touched. 

We went to sleep that night with fond thoughts of a rest day 

on the morrow, but little suspecting that our climbing was virtually 

over. The following morning we discovered that the gasoline was 

nearly gone. We had sorely misjudged the amount necessary and 

the loss from evaporation. At any rate there was nothing to do 

but to start out. A single happy note was struck when Charlie 

pointed out that we could begin to demolish the eleven days' supply 

of food which we had left. Suffice it to say that several hours later, 

as we lay on our cots in the Circle cabin, our faces exhibited various 

colorful shades of green. The next day it rained. Three more 

days' food went. 

[ 43 ]

On the 24th we took our gear up the trail again, this time to Amphitheater 

Lake, where we encamped in the shadow of Grand. 

Sitting around the campfire that evening, we watched the sky with 

misgivings as fierce winds tore the clouds to pieces; but at dawn all 

was calm, so we set off across the Teton Glacier for Mt. Owen. We 

soon reached the steep couloir beside the minor summit known as 

East Prong, and found it still in shade. A chilly hour of crampons 

and step-chopping brought us to the East Ridge, which we followed 

through num,erousobstacles (including a waterfall under which the 

belayer had to stand) until we reached the great snow shelf which 

spans the Southeast Face. Crossing the snow to the South Ridge, we ' 

scrambled up a few ropelengths of rock to the summit. 

Back at camp that evening, we were just finishing supper when 

we were joined by a party of Yale boys, led by Zach Stewart, who 

had just come up from Jenny Lake. The two parties spent the next 

day peering at each other through the rain from their respective tents. 

On the 27th Zach joined our party in the ascent of Teepee's Pillar, 

a rock spire on the side of Grand, which just reaches 12,000 feet in 

altitude and stands. perhaps 1500 feet above its base. The party left 

camp at 7 :30 and climbed a long snow couloir leading to the tiny 

Teepee Glacier, which clings precariously to the face of Grand, and 

from which the Pillar rises. After one false start we found the route, 

which we followed thereafter without difficulty because there was no 

place else to go. This is one of Teepee's virtues; it is'a totally unambiguous 

mountain. The climb proved a long succession of interest:: 

ing and sometimes highly exposed rock pitches, and it was well after 

three when we finally reached the summit. Two long rappels facilitated 

the descent, but when we arrived back at the couloir, we found 

we had overstayed our leave; the snow had hardened again in the 

evening. Zach essayed a glissade, with uncomfortable results, and 

the rest of us were forced to mince timidly down the steps we had 

made in the morning. ' 

We returned to Jenny Lake the next day for supplies, while the 

Yale· boys moved their camp to Garnet Canyon for an attempt on 

Grand. 

[ 50 ] 

The 29th found us back in Garnet Canyon, where we met the 

Yale party coming down from Grand. They had been defeated by 

storm and ice high on the West Face, and advised us to camp low 

in order to allow the sun to melt some of the ice on the face before 

we attempted the climb. We camped accordingly, not on the Lower 

Saddle, but on the floor of the Canyon. 

CAMP IN NORTH FORK OF GARNET CANYON 

Photo, C. H. Bell 

At 5 the next morning the weather looked dubious, but by 7 :30 it 

had cleared enough so that the three of us agreed it was worth a try. 

A snow trek as far as the Lower Saddle (11,500 ft.) and then a steep 

scramble over snow and rock brought us to the real beginning of the 

climh. Here, at the Upper Saddle, we roped up and prepared to 

tackle the 750-foot sheer West Face. We climbed in a rather curious 

manner: I, the third man, carried a copy of Coulter and McLane's 

Guide to the T etons, which contains a description of the route from 

[ 51 ]

COtwtesy of Appalachia Photo, J. D. Lewis 

WEST PEAK AND SUMMIT OF GRAND TETON FROM LOWER SADDLE (MARCH) 

handhold to handhold. Before each pitch I would haul out the book 

and quote Authority. This method proved highly successful, and 

the climb a simple one compared to Teepee's Pillar. Our only difficulty 

was encountered in the Owen Chimney, which was clogged 

with ice and proved an extremely slippery place, especially for the 

leader. We reached the summit at twenty minutes to four, to find 

ominous clouds approaching from the West. We scurried back 

down, avoiding the Chimney by a long rappel, and were overjoyed, 

on reaching the Lower Saddle, to discover that we had finally managed 

to hit a snowslope at the right time of day. One 'long, swift 

glissade brought us back to camp, and after a short meal we headed 

down the trail for the last time to Jenny Lake. 

We left the Tetons the next day, well satisfied with our record of 

eight climbs, all of them (except Grand) first ascents of the season. 

We decided that June is perhaps the best time of all to visit the Tetons, 

before the crowds get there, and while there is still enough 

snow to provide pleasantly varied climbing. 

Courtesy of Appalachia 

Photo, J. D. Lewis. 

FINAL PITCH BELOW THE SUMMIT OF THE GRAND TETON (MARCH) 

r S3 J

much digging and leveling. By 8 :30 we were cooking dinner and 

melting frozen socks and inner soles out of the boots. 

July 4th started out to be another miserable day, but by noon 

the clouds had lifted. It was too late to think in terms of the 

summit, so we climbed Institute Peak, about 500'above us. From 

there we could look down onto base camp, and had an unparalleled 

view of the St. Elias Range; During the afternoon, the Norseman 

airplane paid us a visit. Walter had expected that we would be 

climbing the summit, but, after a little delay, they spotted us on 

Institute Peak. After soaking up the sun and admiring the view 

for an hour, .we glissaded back t; Camp III and cooked up a stupendous 

meal from the new rations. 

We were up at sunrise on the 5th. It is impossible to tell what 

Alaskan weather for the day will be like before. 9 :00 A.M., but 

this morning looked bright and clear, except for a cap cloud over 

the summit of Mt. Vancouver. This was the day. We were ploughing 

through powder snow by· 7 :00, and soon reached the ridge. connecting 

Institute Peak and the main sumIT?-it. By 9 :00 we passed 

the high point of the 1948 expedition, and by 10:30 reached the 

high saddle at the base of the summit massif. We stopped for a 

second .. breakfast. The ridge above was obscured by the cloud and 

windblown snow, but. the weather everywhere else in the range 

was clear. We stuck close to the. ridge, climbing with two ropes 

and alternating step kicking. After a couple of hours of this the / 

cloud suddenly opened. There appeared before us a solid buttress 

of ice. How to tackle it? The right hand side was a steep ice 

wall;. the left hand side was an unknown j umble of seracs, crevasses 

and treacherous snow. Then the cloud closed in again, and· we 

could see nothing more. We called a quick huddle and decided the 

wisest route would be up the ice face. We knew it would go, 

whereas the other route was extremely doubtful. The pitch, which 

at the top reached a good sixty degrees,. consumed two hours of 

tedious step cutting. Once above it, we gained the base of the 

(Right) MOUNT VANCOUVER FROM ABOVE THE 

SEWARD GLACIER SHOWING ROUTE 

Courtesy of American Alpine Club 

[ 56 ] 

Photo, W. A. Wood

The Granite Range 

by DAVID MICHAEL 

THE boys at forty-mile survey camp were a God-send to us. 

Bernie had offered us the services of his. truck in hauling our 

tons of equipment from Golden all the mosquito-infested way to 

Swan Creek, some sixty miles north along the Big Bend highway. 

In addition we were feted royally, and luxuriously provided with 

mosquito resjstant tents for the night. We were five in number: 

Andy and Betty Kaufmann, Norman Brewster, Alec Faberge, and 

'myself. After an evening of survey stories" we hastily made up 

loads for the trip and then spent the next few hours throwing 

away pounds. Intentions were to do great things to Mt. Adamant, 

second in the Northern Selkirks only to Sir Sanford. And Mt. 

Adamant demands great things: it required the equivalent of 

three ascents just to locate the route. 

The next morning was packed with thrills beginning with a 

£lying spin over twisted miles of Royal Canadian Highway No.1 

with one of His Majesty's best at the controls. Somehow we made 

it to Swan Creek. It was cold and drizzling and frightfully early 

in typical expedition tradition. The Colossal, Vessel No. 2 was 

launched, loaded, and ferrying operations carried on across the 

wide and speedy-ten miles per hour here-Columbia .River. By 

now we were beginning to feel the bite of the Bush River mosquito, 

with nothing like the immensity we could have ever imagined. 

We learned later from Pete Bergenham, packet for Palmer in 

1912, that this was the worst season in fifty years, in a region ordinarily 

equal to Alaska for its mosquitos. In fact there were no bears 

ADAMANT GROUP 

Above: Looking seuth f1'em Observatery Peak. Left to. right: 

Adamant (with its three summits), Turret, and Austerity 

Belew: Leeking north frem Azimuth Cel acress Adamant Glacier. 

Left to. Right: Turret, Adamant, unnamed spire, and Pieneer 

CMtrtesy of American Alpine Cl'ub Photos, A. Wexler 

[ 63 ]

Two Summers in the Wind Rivers 

by H. ADAMS CARTER 

In 1949, Bob Bates, John and Ann Case, Waldo and Ruth Holcombe, 

my wife Anne, and I made a flying trip to the Wind River 

Range, Wyoming, where none of us had climbed before. It was a 

summer of nearly climbed peaks. On the first day we were turned 

back by a thunderstorm less than two rope-lengths from the summit 

of Woodrow Wilson. Our next climb was to be an easy day for the 

ladies. We mistakenly tried the east ridge of Sphinx which we 

abandoned at the foot of the big Gendarme to the relief of us all. 

Next we tried the west ridge of Koven in so high a wind that we 

did not dare to traverse out onto the face. The almost'vertical ridge 

was too much for us. A climb of Sphinx via the ordinary route followed 

by a traverse up the northeast ridge of Gannett and a descent 

by the normal route concluded the trip. 

In 1950 we headed out again for the West. This time the distinguishing 

feature was the age of the group. Excluding myself, the 

oldest was eighteen. With John Hewett of Williams as second rope 

leader and a group of what were then still schoolboys, we climbed 

some sixteen rather good peaks. One of the climbers, Lammot Copeland, 

is now a member of the H.M.C. First we headed for the 

Wind River Range where the winter snows had been so heavy that 

we had some difficulty getting into the mountains. George Tanner 

did a masterful job of getting our supplies in with his pack string. 

The snow probably helped us on one climb where we may have 

made a new route on East Sentinal. We followed a gully that would 

otherwise have been quite dangerous because of falling rock. This 

led to the northwest ridge which we followed to the summit. We 

made the following additional climbs: 

Gannett-northeast ridge up and ordinary route down. 

Koven-traverse up east ridge and down west ridge. 

W arren-Doublet-Din woody traverse. 

West Sentinal-via east face. 

Woodrow Wilson. 

Bastion. 

[ 74 ] 

Sphynx-ascent via the north face, down the west ridge. 

We left in a rainstorm, our first bad weather, and drove north, 

entering the Columbia Icefield in the rain. It cleared and remained 

perfect for almost all of our stay in the Canadian Rockies. We 

climbed the north ridge of Columbia descending its east face and 

made a traverse of Edith Cavell. Next we climbed Odaray from Lake 

O'Hara. We then spiraled up Huber, climbing Victoria from there, 

and descended to Abbot Pass. Our final ascent was Biddle; we went 

up the southeast ridge and descended the west ridge in our only bad 

Canadian weather. 

Climbing Notes 

1949 

Early in the summer, a party comprised of Andy Griscom, 

Harry King, Frank Magoun, Dave Michael, Henry S. Pinkham and 

Bill Putnam, spent three weeks in the Disenchantment Bay area. 

The group ,made the first ascent of Mt. Upham, a 9,300 foot peak 

east of the Variegated Glacier. The party was the first to go up the 

Variegated Glacier and made a number of minor ascents in the area. 

Some surveying and geological reconnaissance was done including 

some observations of a large, peculiarly shaped, tall pyramidal object 

made of rocks and thought to be an odd anthropological relic. 

Graham Matthews, Griscom, King, and George Bell spent several 

weeks in the Cascades, and made numerous first ascents, among 

which was a climb by Bell and King of the East Ridge of Forbidden 

Peak. Other first ascents were Trapper Peak and Needle Peak. 

The party also climbed Mounts Rainier and Baker. 

Matthews later climbed Lower Cathedral Spire, Yosemite, and 

then joined Beckey in an abortive attempt on un climbed Castle 

Rock Spire in Sequoia National Park. 

[ 75 ]

Obituaries 

JAMES GRAHAM McNEAR 

1928-1949 

A native of Peoria, Illinois, McNear attended Deerfield Academy 

before his entrance into Harvard in the Fall of 1946. He began 

his climbing career in the Tetons in 1946, and made numerous 

ascents in that range during the following two seasons. In 1948 he 

climbed extensively in the Wind River area and Yosemite, also 

making ascents of Stettner's Ledges on Long's Peak and the Devil's 

Tower. 

A member of the Chicago Mountaineers, the Seattle Mountaineers, 

and the Iowa Mountaineers, Graham participated actively in the 

H.M.C and was elected Secretary in the Spring of 1949. His death 

that summer in an accident on the Dent du Geant was a great loss to 

the Club and to all who knew him. 

WILLIAM SARGENT LADD 

1887-1949 

Having secured his B.S. from Amherst in 1910 and his M.D. from 

Columbia in 1915, Dr. Ladd embarked on a distinguished professional 

career. He taught at Columbia, Johns Hopkins, and Cornell, 

where he held the post of Dean of the Medical College from 1935 to 

1942. He held positions of responsibility in numerous professional 

and philanthropic organizations, including the New York Academy 

of Medicine and Memorial Hospital, and was a trustee of Amherst 

College and the American University, Beirut. 

A former President of the American Alpine Club, Dr. Ladd was 

a member of the Alpine Club (London) and the Alpine Club of 

Canada, and an honorary member of the Club Alpine Fran

Harvard Mountaineering Club

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