Mt Katahdin, Maine
Date : January, 2001
Duration : 8 days
High Temperature : 10 degrees
Group : Brad Bassi, Mike McDonnel.
Ryan Stefiuk, Rich Leavy
Date : January, 2001
Duration : 8 days
High Temperature : 10 degrees
Group : Brad Bassi, Mike McDonnel.
Ryan Stefiuk, Rich Leavy
When the fall of 2000 came around I began planning a winter expedition to Mt Katahdin in
Maine's Baxter State Park. Being admitted to the park in the winter requires dealing with a
surprising amount of bureaucracy and paperwork. A solid month of planning was needed
to obtain the permits necessary for entering that January. The day after New Years we
assembled at a friend's house in MIddlebury, Vermont and made the seven hour drive to
Millinockett, Maine.
We decided to check into a thirty dollar a night motel to have a dry and warm place to get
organized before the trip. That night we spent an evening at The Blue Ox Saloon and
rubbed elbows with some burly locals while playing pool in the back room, which featured a
talking parrot. Drinking pints of Newcastle may not be the best way to prepare for an
expedition, but it sure was fun.
The next morning we checked in at park headquarters and drove to the trailhead. To
reach the base of the mountain we faced a twelve mile ski in, plus another four miles to our
base camp in the Great Basin. Park rules mandate that this approach be broken into two
days, so we planned on camping at mile twelve that first night. Clear weather and a two
foot snowpack at the trailhead greeted us. Not much elevation would be gained on this
first day, but the distance was substantial and we had many supplies with us.
Maine's Baxter State Park. Being admitted to the park in the winter requires dealing with a
surprising amount of bureaucracy and paperwork. A solid month of planning was needed
to obtain the permits necessary for entering that January. The day after New Years we
assembled at a friend's house in MIddlebury, Vermont and made the seven hour drive to
Millinockett, Maine.
We decided to check into a thirty dollar a night motel to have a dry and warm place to get
organized before the trip. That night we spent an evening at The Blue Ox Saloon and
rubbed elbows with some burly locals while playing pool in the back room, which featured a
talking parrot. Drinking pints of Newcastle may not be the best way to prepare for an
expedition, but it sure was fun.
The next morning we checked in at park headquarters and drove to the trailhead. To
reach the base of the mountain we faced a twelve mile ski in, plus another four miles to our
base camp in the Great Basin. Park rules mandate that this approach be broken into two
days, so we planned on camping at mile twelve that first night. Clear weather and a two
foot snowpack at the trailhead greeted us. Not much elevation would be gained on this
first day, but the distance was substantial and we had many supplies with us.
For this trip we would be carrying enough food for 8 days of winter camping, tents,
crampons, ice tools, ropes, and protection for mixed rock and ice climbing. In all,
we were each responsible for bringing roughly eighty pounds of gear to base camp.
Luckily, we knew from a past trip that making sleds to haul the equipment would be
much easier than carrying it all in massive backpacks. We used cheap plastic sleds
rigged up with rope and thin PVC pipe. The rig was attached to a small day pack
with carabiners and the system pulled remarkably well.
The long approach was mostly along old logging roads and the terrain consisted of
rolling hills with mixed hardwood and coniferous forest. The trail was broken for
much of the distance and while the skiing was taxing the day's goal was reached
with plenty of time to spare. The objective was the Roaring Brook Trail which leads
up several thousand feet to the Great Basin where our base camp for the week
would be established. We found no one occupying the bunkhouse at Roaring
Brook so we invaded the cabin and quickly had the wood stove roaring and our
gear drying out. Technically you are supposed to book these cabins and pay thirty
dollars a person, but if they are empty the winter ranger does not mind if you use
the space.
The next morning dawned cold and clear, but to keep from getting sweaty on the
long uphill grind we skied in thin polypropylene tops and vests. For the next week
moisture would be our enemy. To be dry was to be warm. The path to Chimney
Pond lead up through increasingly scrubbier spruce trees and across several
frozen ponds. Eventually we reached the Great Basin and were blown away by the
rock amphitheater that loomed above us and enclosed this glacier carved valley.
Rugged cliffs rose for nearly three thousand feet to the east, south, and west. The
mountain was veneered in ice and since it was still early January the snow pack was
only four to six feet deep. Our first order of business was to dig level sites for our
tents and build up protective walls of snow around them in case a storm blew
through during our week at this amazing place. A three sided lean to at our site
was perfect for setting up a kitchen and functioning as a gathering place. With
fifteen hours of darkness each night there would be plenty of time for sleeping.
crampons, ice tools, ropes, and protection for mixed rock and ice climbing. In all,
we were each responsible for bringing roughly eighty pounds of gear to base camp.
Luckily, we knew from a past trip that making sleds to haul the equipment would be
much easier than carrying it all in massive backpacks. We used cheap plastic sleds
rigged up with rope and thin PVC pipe. The rig was attached to a small day pack
with carabiners and the system pulled remarkably well.
The long approach was mostly along old logging roads and the terrain consisted of
rolling hills with mixed hardwood and coniferous forest. The trail was broken for
much of the distance and while the skiing was taxing the day's goal was reached
with plenty of time to spare. The objective was the Roaring Brook Trail which leads
up several thousand feet to the Great Basin where our base camp for the week
would be established. We found no one occupying the bunkhouse at Roaring
Brook so we invaded the cabin and quickly had the wood stove roaring and our
gear drying out. Technically you are supposed to book these cabins and pay thirty
dollars a person, but if they are empty the winter ranger does not mind if you use
the space.
The next morning dawned cold and clear, but to keep from getting sweaty on the
long uphill grind we skied in thin polypropylene tops and vests. For the next week
moisture would be our enemy. To be dry was to be warm. The path to Chimney
Pond lead up through increasingly scrubbier spruce trees and across several
frozen ponds. Eventually we reached the Great Basin and were blown away by the
rock amphitheater that loomed above us and enclosed this glacier carved valley.
Rugged cliffs rose for nearly three thousand feet to the east, south, and west. The
mountain was veneered in ice and since it was still early January the snow pack was
only four to six feet deep. Our first order of business was to dig level sites for our
tents and build up protective walls of snow around them in case a storm blew
through during our week at this amazing place. A three sided lean to at our site
was perfect for setting up a kitchen and functioning as a gathering place. With
fifteen hours of darkness each night there would be plenty of time for sleeping.
Once camp was established we geared up and hiked to the base of the Pamola Ice
Cliffs which rose five hundred feet above Chimney Pond on the eastern ridge of the
mountain. The hike involved climbing through a talus pile while post holing through
several feet of dry and fluffy powder that had recently fallen. The view from the
base of the main ice cliff was otherworldly, with blue pillars and sheets soaring
above us. The most obvious route here is a giant column of dead vertical ice rising
about two or three hundred feet. This would have been a solid grade V climb that
was well beyond my skill level, and dished out exposure I was unwilling to deal with
had a been competent enough for the climb. Just being in the midst of such
incredible terrain was enough to make the trip worthwhile.
That evening while eating massive heaps of pasta and constantly cooking up hot
drinks we talked about the endless possibilities for climbing and skiing on this
mountain. As darkness fell temperatures plummet below zero and we wandered
out onto Chimney Pond to enjoy the startlingly beautiful view of the Great Basin's
massive walls illuminated in light from the nearly full moon reflecting off of the snow
and ice. The amount of light was hard to believe and the scale of the scene
combined with total silence was powerful. Standing here was humbling and made
us feel very small and insignificant. Since it was so cold out we went to sleep early,
happy to be zipped into our warm sleeping bags.
A steady wind came up that night and each time the fabric of our tent flapped a
shower of frozen condensation from our breathing drifted down and covered us.
By morning the outside of our bags were wet, but this was not a problem. Your
body heat keeps the moisture pushed to the outside of the bag where it freezes
during the day and can be brushed off before sleeping again.
The wind we had heard during the night was associated with a weak storm that kept
the mountain socked in and confined us to some low angle grade II and easy grade
III climbing on the practice slabs. These sheets of ice are enormous, covering an
area the size of four or five football fields and rising at a thirty to forty five degree
angle for one or two hundred feet. We climbed around here for a few hours and
made the most of the day.
Cliffs which rose five hundred feet above Chimney Pond on the eastern ridge of the
mountain. The hike involved climbing through a talus pile while post holing through
several feet of dry and fluffy powder that had recently fallen. The view from the
base of the main ice cliff was otherworldly, with blue pillars and sheets soaring
above us. The most obvious route here is a giant column of dead vertical ice rising
about two or three hundred feet. This would have been a solid grade V climb that
was well beyond my skill level, and dished out exposure I was unwilling to deal with
had a been competent enough for the climb. Just being in the midst of such
incredible terrain was enough to make the trip worthwhile.
That evening while eating massive heaps of pasta and constantly cooking up hot
drinks we talked about the endless possibilities for climbing and skiing on this
mountain. As darkness fell temperatures plummet below zero and we wandered
out onto Chimney Pond to enjoy the startlingly beautiful view of the Great Basin's
massive walls illuminated in light from the nearly full moon reflecting off of the snow
and ice. The amount of light was hard to believe and the scale of the scene
combined with total silence was powerful. Standing here was humbling and made
us feel very small and insignificant. Since it was so cold out we went to sleep early,
happy to be zipped into our warm sleeping bags.
A steady wind came up that night and each time the fabric of our tent flapped a
shower of frozen condensation from our breathing drifted down and covered us.
By morning the outside of our bags were wet, but this was not a problem. Your
body heat keeps the moisture pushed to the outside of the bag where it freezes
during the day and can be brushed off before sleeping again.
The wind we had heard during the night was associated with a weak storm that kept
the mountain socked in and confined us to some low angle grade II and easy grade
III climbing on the practice slabs. These sheets of ice are enormous, covering an
area the size of four or five football fields and rising at a thirty to forty five degree
angle for one or two hundred feet. We climbed around here for a few hours and
made the most of the day.
That afternoon we discussed our schedule for the week and figured out what we hoped to
accomplish. It was agreed that our primary goal was to reach the summit of Katahdin via a
traverse of the classic knife edge ridge connecting Pamola and Baxter Peak. This would
be a full day mountaineering experience, the outcome of which was largely dependant on
the weather. We decided to use the next day to climb some technical vertical ice to give
the storm ample time to clear before making our summit attempt the day after that. If the
weather did not cooperate we would have up to two additional days to make an attempt. If
we summited on schedule the rest of the time could be used for skiing or more climbing.
Although the temperature was hovering around zero, the next day was clear enough to
warrant heading onto the lower ridges of the mountain to check out some vertical water
ice. The route we selected was a two pitch grade III set in a classic gully. The route is
called Mini Pinnacle because of ts likeness to a famous climb in New Hampshire. The
climb was well within in my ability and an obvious platform provided a nice belay station for
the second pitch. Still, this would be my first multi pitch climb and I was pretty excited. We
reached the base of the first pitch and I set up a belay while Ryan worked his way around
a corner and up the first bulge. He set a few screws and had soon reached the top of the
first short pitch.
I made my way up easily and reached the first ice screw, which took a while to remove
from the ice and clip into my harness. The grade eased back and I moved quickly to the
second steep bulge with twelve feet left to the pitch. Ryan looked down and told me to be
careful because a few of his tool placements had released water from behind the ice.
What we were climbing was not a waterfall, but frozen seeps of water running down this
gully and accumulating over time. The ice acts as insulation and water constantly moves
underneath many climbs. In some instances the water becomes trapped and pools up.
This can be dangerous to climbers because their ice axes can puncture through to the
trapped water and release enormous amounts of pressure. Several years ago climbers
on this same mountain broke one of these water dams and an entire section of the climb
was explosively blown out. Luckily, we only produced a few holes in the ice that jetted
water out like a high powered drinking fountain. While not life threatening, the ten degree
air temperature froze the wet parts of our rope into a cable like mess. Still, we managed to
continue up the second pitch which was much more exposed and considerably steeper.
By the time I topped out my arms were pumped and I was pretty happy with what I had
accomplished. We walked off of the climb through deep snow and arrived back at camp
too late to try a second route.
That night we had a huge dinner to make up for the massive calorie expenditure require to
work our way up the climb and stay warm in the constant cold. We beat the ice out of our
rope as best as possible and made the decision to try a route to the summit tomorrow.
We had scouted out a line that would take us up the right hand edge of the Pamola Ice
Cliffs along a ramp like ledge before climbing up through a narrow crack of water ice. This
technical pitch ends on the eastern ridge that leads to Pamola Peak and the Knife Edge
Ridge that connects across to Baxter Peak. The route would require a mile long approach
through heavy snow, three pitches of roped climbing, a hike to the mile long Knife Edge
which is less than two feet wide in some places with three thousand feet of exposure down
the north of Katahdin, and a two mile walk off of the summit down Cathedral Ridge. To be
sure we would get off of the peak by dark we decided to make an alpine start and wake up
at 5:30 to assess the weather.
Everyone one was well rested despite the early wake up since we had gone into the tents
at six the night before. Although it was still dark out the stars were shining and no wind
could be heard higher on the mountain. We ate a quick breakfast and headed out with
headlamps blazing. By the time the alpenglow of dawn came we were a few hundred feet
up a steep snow gully leading into the ramp we had seen that traversed above the first
ledge of the Pamola Ice Cliffs. The temperatures couldn't have been above zero, but the
exertion had us nice and warm. Soon the snow gully pinched down and left us at the
traverse ramp that steepened to forty degrees and narrowed to several feet as it rose and
slabbed away above a cliff. As dawn broke we encountered a bulge of ice running down
across the ramp. With two hundred feet of exposure below us we decided that it was time
to put on our crampons and rope up.
accomplish. It was agreed that our primary goal was to reach the summit of Katahdin via a
traverse of the classic knife edge ridge connecting Pamola and Baxter Peak. This would
be a full day mountaineering experience, the outcome of which was largely dependant on
the weather. We decided to use the next day to climb some technical vertical ice to give
the storm ample time to clear before making our summit attempt the day after that. If the
weather did not cooperate we would have up to two additional days to make an attempt. If
we summited on schedule the rest of the time could be used for skiing or more climbing.
Although the temperature was hovering around zero, the next day was clear enough to
warrant heading onto the lower ridges of the mountain to check out some vertical water
ice. The route we selected was a two pitch grade III set in a classic gully. The route is
called Mini Pinnacle because of ts likeness to a famous climb in New Hampshire. The
climb was well within in my ability and an obvious platform provided a nice belay station for
the second pitch. Still, this would be my first multi pitch climb and I was pretty excited. We
reached the base of the first pitch and I set up a belay while Ryan worked his way around
a corner and up the first bulge. He set a few screws and had soon reached the top of the
first short pitch.
I made my way up easily and reached the first ice screw, which took a while to remove
from the ice and clip into my harness. The grade eased back and I moved quickly to the
second steep bulge with twelve feet left to the pitch. Ryan looked down and told me to be
careful because a few of his tool placements had released water from behind the ice.
What we were climbing was not a waterfall, but frozen seeps of water running down this
gully and accumulating over time. The ice acts as insulation and water constantly moves
underneath many climbs. In some instances the water becomes trapped and pools up.
This can be dangerous to climbers because their ice axes can puncture through to the
trapped water and release enormous amounts of pressure. Several years ago climbers
on this same mountain broke one of these water dams and an entire section of the climb
was explosively blown out. Luckily, we only produced a few holes in the ice that jetted
water out like a high powered drinking fountain. While not life threatening, the ten degree
air temperature froze the wet parts of our rope into a cable like mess. Still, we managed to
continue up the second pitch which was much more exposed and considerably steeper.
By the time I topped out my arms were pumped and I was pretty happy with what I had
accomplished. We walked off of the climb through deep snow and arrived back at camp
too late to try a second route.
That night we had a huge dinner to make up for the massive calorie expenditure require to
work our way up the climb and stay warm in the constant cold. We beat the ice out of our
rope as best as possible and made the decision to try a route to the summit tomorrow.
We had scouted out a line that would take us up the right hand edge of the Pamola Ice
Cliffs along a ramp like ledge before climbing up through a narrow crack of water ice. This
technical pitch ends on the eastern ridge that leads to Pamola Peak and the Knife Edge
Ridge that connects across to Baxter Peak. The route would require a mile long approach
through heavy snow, three pitches of roped climbing, a hike to the mile long Knife Edge
which is less than two feet wide in some places with three thousand feet of exposure down
the north of Katahdin, and a two mile walk off of the summit down Cathedral Ridge. To be
sure we would get off of the peak by dark we decided to make an alpine start and wake up
at 5:30 to assess the weather.
Everyone one was well rested despite the early wake up since we had gone into the tents
at six the night before. Although it was still dark out the stars were shining and no wind
could be heard higher on the mountain. We ate a quick breakfast and headed out with
headlamps blazing. By the time the alpenglow of dawn came we were a few hundred feet
up a steep snow gully leading into the ramp we had seen that traversed above the first
ledge of the Pamola Ice Cliffs. The temperatures couldn't have been above zero, but the
exertion had us nice and warm. Soon the snow gully pinched down and left us at the
traverse ramp that steepened to forty degrees and narrowed to several feet as it rose and
slabbed away above a cliff. As dawn broke we encountered a bulge of ice running down
across the ramp. With two hundred feet of exposure below us we decided that it was time
to put on our crampons and rope up.
The exposure was intimidating me very badly at this point and it
took a ridiculously long time to get the crampons on my boots, but
once they were on I felt much more secure. A belay was set and
Ryan lead out around the bulge and up about ten feet of vertical
ice before the grade eased and he quickly climbed across frozen
ground to the end of the rope. I followed and found ourselves at
the base of a rock wall rising about fifty feet and unbroken except
for a narrow ice filled chimney about two to four feet wide set
deeply into the cliff. We set another belay and Ryan lead up this
pitch while Rich and Mike came up on the second rope. A shake
of the rope signaled that it was my turn to climb and while a few
moves in the chimney proved difficult I topped out and quickly
moved up a steep slope thinly covered with snow. From here we
climbed one and a half more pitches of terrain steep enough to
warrant staying on the rope. By the time we finished this
somewhat technical route to the ridge the sun was shining on the
opposite side of the mountain and the view was unreal. Standing
here in the dead of winter was really special and we enjoyed what
is probably the most rugged alpine setting in New England.
took a ridiculously long time to get the crampons on my boots, but
once they were on I felt much more secure. A belay was set and
Ryan lead out around the bulge and up about ten feet of vertical
ice before the grade eased and he quickly climbed across frozen
ground to the end of the rope. I followed and found ourselves at
the base of a rock wall rising about fifty feet and unbroken except
for a narrow ice filled chimney about two to four feet wide set
deeply into the cliff. We set another belay and Ryan lead up this
pitch while Rich and Mike came up on the second rope. A shake
of the rope signaled that it was my turn to climb and while a few
moves in the chimney proved difficult I topped out and quickly
moved up a steep slope thinly covered with snow. From here we
climbed one and a half more pitches of terrain steep enough to
warrant staying on the rope. By the time we finished this
somewhat technical route to the ridge the sun was shining on the
opposite side of the mountain and the view was unreal. Standing
here in the dead of winter was really special and we enjoyed what
is probably the most rugged alpine setting in New England.
From this perch the rest of our route across the wild
alpine ridge of Katahdin could be seen stretching
between the two peaks we would be summiting. It was
very cold here and we were glad when Mike and Rich
arrived and we were able to start the steep hike up
lower angled hard packed snow to the summit of
Pamola Peak.
Our traverse of the Knife Edge started with a fifty foot
descent leading down a steep rocky face covered with
snow and ice. We elected to not rope up here and
everyone made it down and up the other side of this
"dent" in the ridge with no problems. Our walk across
the ridge began and it was every bit as spectacular as
we had hoped. When we started skies were clear and
the view back down the north face of the mountain
showed all of the three thousand feet of exposure that
a climber would face if they were to fall off the ridge
on that side. Luckily, in most places a fall on the
other side would only lead to a fifty foot fall or a
controllable slide.
alpine ridge of Katahdin could be seen stretching
between the two peaks we would be summiting. It was
very cold here and we were glad when Mike and Rich
arrived and we were able to start the steep hike up
lower angled hard packed snow to the summit of
Pamola Peak.
Our traverse of the Knife Edge started with a fifty foot
descent leading down a steep rocky face covered with
snow and ice. We elected to not rope up here and
everyone made it down and up the other side of this
"dent" in the ridge with no problems. Our walk across
the ridge began and it was every bit as spectacular as
we had hoped. When we started skies were clear and
the view back down the north face of the mountain
showed all of the three thousand feet of exposure that
a climber would face if they were to fall off the ridge
on that side. Luckily, in most places a fall on the
other side would only lead to a fifty foot fall or a
controllable slide.
We continued unroped and marveled at the fact that almost no wind was blowing. In the winter
travel above treeline in New England is almost always hampered by winds typically in excess of
sixty miles an hour that commonly build to well over a hundred. Had even a thirty mile an hour
wind been blowing climbing across the ridge would have been much more intimidating and even
downright dangerous in places.
Eventually we made our way past the narrowest fifty yards of ridge line where the crest narrowed
to a foot and forced us to kick steps in the snow along its side. At this point clouds began to
quickly build out of nowhere and the ridge ahead was periodically obscured. Our goal would duck
in and out of the clouds while a steady wind developed. Despite this bit of weather around the
summit we reached the top of Baxter Peak around one o'clock after seven hours of climbing.
While on our route we had seen another group of climbers heading towards to top along the
Cathedral Ridge, our descent route. Coincidentally we reached the top at the same time as them
and shook hands.
We were tired and started down in the thick clouds. We were now walking down the flat table land
area around the summit of Katahdin that had avoided being scoured by mountain glaciers. We
overshot the ridge we wanted to descend, but I recognized the mistake since I had been up here
before and done the same thing. We quickly cruised down the snowy ridge outdistancing the
other group. In an hour we had reached the trees growing in the bottom of the Great Basin and
by three we had reached base camp. Down here we unpacked and gorged ourselves after the
exertions of the day.
Everyone dried out their feet and Ryan noticed that he had developed a bit of frost bite on a few
of his toes. He tended to this issue while I sacrificed a pair of socks for a new dry pair. I was not
using vapor barrier liners and once the soaked socks froze they went to the bottom of my bag.
This trip was short enough to allow this to happen, but it is bad practice. I hiked out across
Chimney Pond to fetch some water from a hole chopped through the pond and enjoyed the view
of the mountain walls around me, even more happy knowing I had been up there earlier in the
day.
travel above treeline in New England is almost always hampered by winds typically in excess of
sixty miles an hour that commonly build to well over a hundred. Had even a thirty mile an hour
wind been blowing climbing across the ridge would have been much more intimidating and even
downright dangerous in places.
Eventually we made our way past the narrowest fifty yards of ridge line where the crest narrowed
to a foot and forced us to kick steps in the snow along its side. At this point clouds began to
quickly build out of nowhere and the ridge ahead was periodically obscured. Our goal would duck
in and out of the clouds while a steady wind developed. Despite this bit of weather around the
summit we reached the top of Baxter Peak around one o'clock after seven hours of climbing.
While on our route we had seen another group of climbers heading towards to top along the
Cathedral Ridge, our descent route. Coincidentally we reached the top at the same time as them
and shook hands.
We were tired and started down in the thick clouds. We were now walking down the flat table land
area around the summit of Katahdin that had avoided being scoured by mountain glaciers. We
overshot the ridge we wanted to descend, but I recognized the mistake since I had been up here
before and done the same thing. We quickly cruised down the snowy ridge outdistancing the
other group. In an hour we had reached the trees growing in the bottom of the Great Basin and
by three we had reached base camp. Down here we unpacked and gorged ourselves after the
exertions of the day.
Everyone dried out their feet and Ryan noticed that he had developed a bit of frost bite on a few
of his toes. He tended to this issue while I sacrificed a pair of socks for a new dry pair. I was not
using vapor barrier liners and once the soaked socks froze they went to the bottom of my bag.
This trip was short enough to allow this to happen, but it is bad practice. I hiked out across
Chimney Pond to fetch some water from a hole chopped through the pond and enjoyed the view
of the mountain walls around me, even more happy knowing I had been up there earlier in the
day.
The next morning dawned even colder than the others and wind could be heard howling
like a freight train higher on the mountain. We checked the weather report from the
winter ranger and found he had to leave to tend to issues off of the mountain. The
forecast was posted and said that summit winds would reach eighty miles an hour while
valley winds cold approach forty with temperatures hovering around ten above zero. He
had recommended no one travel above the ice cliffs due to the deteriorating conditions.
The others decided to tackle another multi pitch water ice climb on the Pamola Ice Cliffs,
but I was feeling more mellow. I bailed out and went on a six mile hike that took me to the
North Basin, another deep bowl carved out of the side of the mountain. The hike lead
through a spruce forest before ending up on a bald knob at the foot of the open expanse
that is the floor of the North Basin. A huge cliff face rose up the north face climbing over
a thousand feet. Clouds poured into the basin from above and a screaming wind nearly
knocked me off of my feet. The route we had attempted just the other day would have
been impossible if not suicidal to undertake today. We had lucked out with our timing.
I made it back to camp in a few hours and waited a little while for the others to get back.
Mike, Rich, and Ryan returned after a successful climb. Those guys were a little battered
by the weather and Ryan's foot looked a little worse. A new temporary ranger had
reached their winter cabin in the basin and she let us light the wood stove in the climber's
cabin so we could warm up, dry out a little, and have a nice dinner. After eating we
hunkered down in the tents and spent another long winter night.
In the morning the weather was worse. Temperatures had dropped to ten below zero and
the wind gusted to twenty and thirty miles and hour even in the relatively sheltered floor
of the Great Basin. Heading above treeline was completely out of the question, and any
climb would have been dangerous. We made the unanimous decision to pack up and ski
the three or four miles down to the cabin we had stayed at on the way in where we would
relax and rest for the last day's ski out to the trucks.
By the time we had finished breaking down camp and packing up out sleds a full on gale
was tearing across base camp and we were getting cold standing around. We began the
steep descent on skis with the sleds careening wildly behind us. I had the misfortune of
my sled tipping over out on one of the ponds we had to cross on the ski down. Despite
like a freight train higher on the mountain. We checked the weather report from the
winter ranger and found he had to leave to tend to issues off of the mountain. The
forecast was posted and said that summit winds would reach eighty miles an hour while
valley winds cold approach forty with temperatures hovering around ten above zero. He
had recommended no one travel above the ice cliffs due to the deteriorating conditions.
The others decided to tackle another multi pitch water ice climb on the Pamola Ice Cliffs,
but I was feeling more mellow. I bailed out and went on a six mile hike that took me to the
North Basin, another deep bowl carved out of the side of the mountain. The hike lead
through a spruce forest before ending up on a bald knob at the foot of the open expanse
that is the floor of the North Basin. A huge cliff face rose up the north face climbing over
a thousand feet. Clouds poured into the basin from above and a screaming wind nearly
knocked me off of my feet. The route we had attempted just the other day would have
been impossible if not suicidal to undertake today. We had lucked out with our timing.
I made it back to camp in a few hours and waited a little while for the others to get back.
Mike, Rich, and Ryan returned after a successful climb. Those guys were a little battered
by the weather and Ryan's foot looked a little worse. A new temporary ranger had
reached their winter cabin in the basin and she let us light the wood stove in the climber's
cabin so we could warm up, dry out a little, and have a nice dinner. After eating we
hunkered down in the tents and spent another long winter night.
In the morning the weather was worse. Temperatures had dropped to ten below zero and
the wind gusted to twenty and thirty miles and hour even in the relatively sheltered floor
of the Great Basin. Heading above treeline was completely out of the question, and any
climb would have been dangerous. We made the unanimous decision to pack up and ski
the three or four miles down to the cabin we had stayed at on the way in where we would
relax and rest for the last day's ski out to the trucks.
By the time we had finished breaking down camp and packing up out sleds a full on gale
was tearing across base camp and we were getting cold standing around. We began the
steep descent on skis with the sleds careening wildly behind us. I had the misfortune of
my sled tipping over out on one of the ponds we had to cross on the ski down. Despite
having my face completely covered, the wind prickled my
skin and pellets of blowing snow and ice worked their way
around my mask and stunk each eye. While repacking
my sled I got very cold and sprinted the rest of the way
across the lake in an attempt to warm up. The rest of the
descent back down to the cabin at Roaring Brook was
made by skiing the gentler slopes and riding the sleds
while steering with our skies down the steeper sections.
This was tons of fun, but very cold, and we were really
excited when the cabin was reached.
We made the cabin by noon and promptly stocked the
wood box until the building was a raging eighty five
degree furnace and we were forced to strip to our
thermals. Gear was strewn all over the place while we
dried everything out. Another group arrived an hour
after dark and when we saw them starting to set up camp
we invited them in. I am sure that the heat slammed them
like a wall, but they were happy to share the warm cabin
that evening.
skin and pellets of blowing snow and ice worked their way
around my mask and stunk each eye. While repacking
my sled I got very cold and sprinted the rest of the way
across the lake in an attempt to warm up. The rest of the
descent back down to the cabin at Roaring Brook was
made by skiing the gentler slopes and riding the sleds
while steering with our skies down the steeper sections.
This was tons of fun, but very cold, and we were really
excited when the cabin was reached.
We made the cabin by noon and promptly stocked the
wood box until the building was a raging eighty five
degree furnace and we were forced to strip to our
thermals. Gear was strewn all over the place while we
dried everything out. Another group arrived an hour
after dark and when we saw them starting to set up camp
we invited them in. I am sure that the heat slammed them
like a wall, but they were happy to share the warm cabin
that evening.
The next day's ski out was fast and easy since most of the way was a gentle downhill. The twelve mile run was finished by noon and the long
drive back to Middlebury, Vermont was hammered out that night. This was my second winter trip to Katahdin, and it went much more smoothly
than it had on the first time around. This is a special place and getting to this wildest place in New England was a ton of fun.
drive back to Middlebury, Vermont was hammered out that night. This was my second winter trip to Katahdin, and it went much more smoothly
than it had on the first time around. This is a special place and getting to this wildest place in New England was a ton of fun.
Mike McDonnel looks on as I ski up with my sled looking
forward to a much deserved break.
forward to a much deserved break.
Ryan Stefiuk check out our home for the next five night at our base
camp in Great Basin.
camp in Great Basin.
Brad Bassi digs for some gear on Chimney Pond. The very edge of
the Pamola Ice Cliffs can be seen on the right side of the picture.
the Pamola Ice Cliffs can be seen on the right side of the picture.
The approach to Mini Pinnicle, a grade III / IV ice climb we
tackled on the Pamola Ice Cliffs.
tackled on the Pamola Ice Cliffs.
Brad looking up while Rich sets a belay station for his rope
team.
team.
Brad Bassi at the top of the technical climb to Katahdin's east ridge. The Knife Edge Ridge leading to BAxter Peak can be seen in the background.
Brad and Ryan make their way up a steep snow slope high on Mt Katahdin.
The Knife Edge Ridge that we were half way across on our way to the summit of Katahdin.
The narrowest part of the ridge was only a foot wide
in one place.
in one place.
Weather moving in and obscuring the summit of Katahdin
with one third of our traverse across the ridge ahead of us.
with one third of our traverse across the ridge ahead of us.
Clouds pour over the top of North Basin while winds slammed down the floor of the valley at over
fifty miles an hour.
fifty miles an hour.