Trip Date: August 7-9, 2002

Forbidden Peak Climbing Trip

Boston Basin
Forbidden Peak (8815 ft)

Trip Report Summary

Region: Northwestern Washington Cascades

Sub-Region: Thunder Mountains

Area: North Cascades National Park

Starting & Ending Point: Boston Basin Trailhead on Cascade River Road (Elev. 3200 feet)

Way Points: Midas Creek & Morningstar Creek & Boston Creek & Lower Boston Basin & Upper Boston Basin (trail hike & trail scramble & off-trail hike)

Campsite: Upper Boston Basin (Elev. 6200 feet)

Summit: Forbidden Peak (snow climb & rock climb via West Ridge Couloir—West Ridge; descent via West Ridge—West Ridge Gully)

Approximate Stats: 10 miles traveled; 5700 feet gained & lost.

Full Trip Report

Steve and Bob and I had been waiting for a window of nice weather so that we could throw ourselves at Forbidden Peak’s legendary West Ridge route. A mid-week attempt seemed prudent to avoid possible climber congestion at Boston Basin and on the ridge itself. Well, at least we got the weather window.

Day 1: Trailhead to Upper Boston Basin

Milling about the Boston Basin Trailhead on a pleasantly sunny Wednesday afternoon, we divided our group gear. Two ropes, three snow flukes, one snow picket, one alpine hammer, one rock rack, and numerous runners found a spot in our overstuffed rucksacks. We all took axes, crampons, helmets, and rock shoes (traditional crag shoes for them, nouveau rock “sneakers” for me). Bob and Steve also shared a tent, whereas I opted for a bivouac sack. Several other vehicles sat in the small parking lot, including a van from a college in Arizona (we subsequently learned they were finishing a semester-long mountaineering course in Washington and British Columbia).

Our hike up to Boston Basin was uneventful except for some undignified squirming required to cross several avalanche debris swaths that recently obliterated segments of the trail. Fortunately, a boot-beaten path is gradually being re-established through these swaths, and some small logs have been cut out. (A park ranger in Marblemount later told us that log-cutting is officially prohibited within the park, but low-key trail maintenance is condoned.)

After 2.5 hours of hiking, we found an acceptable campsite at 6200 feet (2.6 hours from TH), close to several other tents. Although a cloud bank shrouded the upper portion of our objective peak, as well as all other nearby mountains, we were confident in the forecast for rapidly improving weather.

Day 2: Forbidden Peak Summit Climb

Clouds and fog still swirled around Forbidden Peak at our crack-of-6:15am arising the next morning, but this dissipated for good by 7:15am, when we headed upward on snow and rock. One or two other parties could be seen approaching the West Ridge Couloir a thousand feet above us. We momentarily lamented our somewhat leisurely start. Due to cold nighttime conditions, the snow was surprisingly firm, so we donned crampons within 15 minutes of departing camp.

The snow steepened progressively as we neared the notorious bergschrund, which turned out to be as large and ominous as I had feared. Luckily, a locally shallow portion of moat on the left side provided a safe—although technically tricky—detour around this 40-foot-deep schrund.  Bob led our rope team up the couloir, using flukes to protect a series of running belays.

The lower reach of couloir necked down to a 45-degree snow/ice ramp less than 10 feet wide, with 30-foot-deep moats on each side. Thanks to excellent cramponing conditions, this was more exhilarating than intimidating—yet I felt overwhelmed by the huge scale of the terrain. Higher, the couloir became wider and the moats diminished to a human-scale size.

At the top, we easily hopped over the tiny moat, doffed crampons, and scrambled onto the rock that leads up to the West Ridge Notch. Ascending to this notch is normally a quick, one-pitch, Class 4 gully climb. However, Bob’s love for challenging rock routes lured him astray here. He instead started up a steeper chimney to the right and soon found himself on wet, mossy, Class 5.5-5.7 rock, which he surmounted with enviable finesse and skill. Steve and I followed on belay, demonstrating somewhat less finesse and skill. During this time, four climbers from the Arizona college bypassed us via the adjacent Class 4 gully.

At the ridge notch (4.0 hours from camp), we gladly stashed our snow/ice gear and traded our heavy alpine boots for rock shoes. I led off for about three pitches of Class 3-4 rock along the crest. This was, as the Cascade Alpine Guide proclaims, pure joy. The ortho-gneiss is clean and hard, the climbing moves are satisfying, and the exposure is breathtaking.

Strangely, the rock seemed to ooze the stuff of legends and reek of classic status—something unexpected for a metamorphic rock—and it got all over my hands and clothing! I was also pervaded by a sense that this route has become a ceremonial passage for Northwest mountaineers. Dating back to the golden age of Lloyd Anderson and Fred Beckey, how many climbers have used these very same handholds and footholds? I recalled a similar sense of following in the footsteps of pioneers while strolling around the well-worn steps of the Acropolis years ago. My pervasive feeling of history and tradition may have been accentuated by Bob’s antiquated rack of gear that I was carrying. Many of his carabiners and runners appeared to herald from the 1970s, a mountaineering era that I regard with great nostalgia.

Gradually, the ridge crest steepened and the climbing became more difficult (Class 4-5). In the interest of time, Bob took the lead again and proceeded over a series of rocky horns. Several belayed pitches flew by—as did all of the returning summiteers on the route. After a crux 5.6 face, an airy traverse, and a down-climb move over the slightly overhanging false summit, …

… we three were rather suddenly gathered alone on the eagle’s nest of a summit. It was nearly 2:00 pm (7.8 hours from camp). Our mood was subdued, probably due to a combination of climbing delirium and pre-descent apprehension.

A chilly wind blew some patchy clouds around the surrounding peaks. The awesome Boston Glacier sprawled beneath our feet, …

… while the North Cascade’s tallest mountains jutted skyward. Steve shared his chocolate bar with us in celebration.

All too soon, it was time to go. A series of running belays, interrupted by three short rappels, eventually returned us to the notch (2.8 hours from summit). We switched back into alpine boots, packed up our gear stash, and began rappelling down the “bypass gully.” Some heavily festooned anchor horns below the notch facilitated our first two double-rope rappels, which got us about halfway down the gully. Because things were going quite well at this point, it seemed an appropriate time to get the rappel ropes stuck, so that’s exactly what we did.

After much fruitless yanking and cursing, Bob volunteered to climb partway up to free the snag. We were all embarrassed to discover that the problem was simply an “operator error”: we were pulling on the wrong end! This problem was easily solved, but in the course of scrambling back down, Bob dislodged a television-sized boulder that smashed one of our ropes. Single-rope rappels now became our preferred method of descent, and several of these finally delivered us onto the steep snow directly below the couloir’s mouth.

Some careful down-climbing with ice axe and crampons was required to negotiate a skinny chute bounded by yawning moats, then we could cruise down the lower-gradient glacial slopes. We stumbled into camp at 8:00 pm (6.1 hours from summit), feeling happy and relieved.

As none of us was eager to hike out by headlamp, we simply dined on gorp and crawled into our sleeping bags. Before falling asleep, I stared at Forbidden’s jagged West Ridge silhouetted against the dusky summer sky and imagined that I could see Plato, Socrates, Anderson, and Beckey simulclimbing along the crest.

Day 3: Upper Boston Basin to Trailhead

We slept late and didn’t start hiking back to the trailhead until mid-morning.  Our splendid trip was capped off with milkshakes on the drive home.

Photo Gallery

Click to enlarge…