Liberty Bell, WA; The North Face
It started by winning a silent auction from the Washington Wildlife and Recreation Coalition:
“Hi Ely,
Just wanted to let you know that you won the John Roskelley climb… Congrats!”
A few weeks and planning emails later, CR and I were leaving REI, having rented helmets, and picked up a sweet bag (that we’d use on the trip!) from the REI gear garage. We had won a guided climb of Liberty Bell: a beautiful, attention-demanding mass of granite that stands guard over Washington Pass in the North Cascades.
CR and I didn’t know what to expect, as we hadn’t ever done a multi-pitch alpine climb at that point, nor had seen the Liberty Bell Group (I had never driven that far down the North Cascades highway). I guess its not surprising then that when we finally saw the towering face, and realized that the north face (our route) was exactly what we were looking at from the road, that our conversation stopped, our jaws turned slack, and our confidence started laughing at us:
View of Liberty Bell from the North Cascades Highway.
We met John and Jess Roskelley shortly after at the Washington Pass viewpoint. We passed around introductions, compared some gear for the next day, strapped on some light packs, and headed up to get a better look at the next day’s route.
John and Jess Roskelley
John Roskelley is a legendary PNW mountaineer—a member of the first American team to ascend K2, not to mention the rest of his impressive list of summits across the Himalayas. His son Jess is now a professional climber as well, spending his time climbing in WA, AK, ID, and currently finishing up an expedition in Peru. When John and Jess climbed to the summit of Everest together in 2003, Jess was the youngest American to have made it to the top. To spend the next two days with these guys, climbing with and learning from them, was an amazing privilege and opportunity. It probably explains the calm I felt as I was taking in my exposure 2,000 feet above ground.
The approach was easy enough—we bushwacked from the road to the base in about an hour, with the last section going up some steep snow and stopping on a set of rocks before the snow climbed even steeper to the base. We refueled a bit, pointed out the route (which still, even at the base, seemed distant, far, and stomach-knot inducing), and then hiked back through the brush to the car.
We camped nearby, relaxed with some beers, and called it a night early for a 5am wake up.
A restless night later (not sure if I was anxious or I couldn’t sleep because of the nearly-full moon’s flashlight of a shine in my face), we packed out camp and were hiking back up the same approach. We regrouped up at the last piles of rock before the steep snow, and climbed to the shrund-y gap in snow to start ascending the rock.
Approach
The first three pitches went smoothly, being mostly low-to-mid fifth class climbing. Very juggy, very fun. The rock was spectacular. We anchored on well rooted alpine trees and beautiful rock cracks. Pitch after pitch, the North Cascades Highway disappeared and Silver Star was losing its shadows as the sun moved above. I was hundreds of feet up on nearly vertical wall, and I was getting more and more calm.
Ever since I started climbing again this past year, my fear of heights has always given me a little mental churn. It was almost weird how together and calm I felt on the climb.
The North Face of Liberty Bell and our route, from what I remember. The long pitch in the middle is when we simulclimbed a bit.
The fourth pitch included a flake that needed some awesome laid back moves and a bit of a mental push to move through it—maybe 5.7? This was probably the first point in the climb at which I felt I was climbing a big wall, and the wall didn’t care if you made it. I mean that in a good way. It fueled my excitement and adrenaline, and it kept me calm and concentrated on climbing.
Pitch five went over a couple wet, exposed slabs, and called for some simul-climbing after placing good pro to get to a better ledge to belay from.
Somewhere up there!
CR is the little red dot in the middle.
View of Silver Star and Washington Pass somewhere around pitch 6 of the climb.
Pitch six was climbing up a steep section with some crimpy and pumpy holds. The rock was fantastic, and a bit of smearing and attention to footwork pushed me over to stare at what turned out to be the hardest part of our climb.
Chimney Sweeping.This was the 5.8/5.9 part of the climb.
Pitch seven was an interesting chimney that involved getting creative and using the overhanging flake to push yourself to a crack to hold on to. To add to the fun, half of the crack was soaked from snowmelt, and the slick rock and long reach made for some spicy fun to get through. Once you get the hold though, the next part of the fun was shimmying up—my pack and ice axe kept wedging me in between the rocks, but I eventually pried myself loose and we moved on. Pitches 8,9,10 were low fifth and fourth class climbing, and we stayed roped for the final scramble to the summit. John and I hung around and waited for Jess and CD to follow us up.
Summit! Top to bottom: Summit, CR, Me, John and Jess
After we all regrouped, ate some snacks, and took in the unbelievable weather and view, we packed up, and headed down the other side of the rock to rapell into the chossy gully to get back.
CR Rappelling down
View down the chossy gully.
CR with the South West side (The popular Becky Route.. we did the other Becky route) and the gully in the background.
Two double rap’s got us down into the snow and rock, which we found was ridiculously loose and not very comforting. We roped up one last time to get through a particularly steep snow part, and then scrambled back to the trail, and back to the cars.
View from the Summit. North and South Early Winter Spires and Concord Tower on the left, Mt. Baker and Shuksan somewhere in the middle. Click through for bigger.
6 hours up, 6 hours down. The going was quick, and I learned an amazing amount about trad, multipitch climbing, setting protection and anchors, and route finding. Most of all, I couldn’t wait to get back out there.