Slesse Mountain Northeast Buttress

In the mid 1990s I used to sit in the barracks at Fort Lewis gaping at photos of Slesse Mountain in Jim Nelson's Selected Climbs of the North Cascades of Washington. I noticed that everyone refers to Jim and never mentions Peter Potterfield as one of the co-authors... There was at least one cool photo of Kit Lewis in there without a helmet on in the winter standing in aiders with crampons on. It looked like it sucked and at the same time kind of cool in it's own way. Many moons later I met Kit Lewis up in Temple Canyon and also climbed with Jim a few times. To me Slesse was just another pipe dream. I didn't even know where it was or how you would get there.

During the summer of 2001 I ramped up on my alpine tick list and sharpened my rock climbing skills. Secretly I was thinking about climbing the Northeast Buttress of Slesse but I didn't have a partner yet. By chance that summer I ran across a fellow whom I had met the winter before in Lillooet, B.C. His name was Rafael. Rafael had been stranded in Lillooet after having a car accident which totalled his vehicle. My friend Mike Oleson and I were happy to give Rafael and his wife Hatsumi a ride back across the border and to their home near Seattle. Anyway back to the story... Rafael asked me if I was interested in doing some alpine climbing routes. Well sure I had one in mind. So did he. He wanted to try out the North Ridge of Mount Stuart and I countered that I had recently done that, offering up Slesse. Settled.

Rafael and I had planned to drive two cars across the border, leave one vehicle on the Nesakwatch Creek parking area and the other in Slesse Creek. It was just day's after the September 11th terrorist attack and we hit the border where the guards were scrutinizing everything in their path. It turned out that my drivers license was expired and they would not allow me across while driving. Well that would fuck up our good plan. The only option we had at this point was to leave my car at a parking lot just walking distance to the border crossing for a couple of days.

Soon enough we were enroute to Chilliwack looking for a ghetto priced bicycle. I figured on getting some cheap pile of metal which one of us would ride around the mountain to loop back and get our car after we were done climbing. I found a heap for about 35 Canadian dollars at what had to be one of the last bicycle stores before you leave town towards Slesse. We made our way up Slesse Creek and dropped the bike as far as our car would take us. It looked like the road was quickly becoming overgrown, but this was obviously where other climbers had been as well. 45 minutes later were at the trailhead in Nesakwatch Creek eating dinner and discussing more plans for the following morning.

We rose early in the morning. I'm not sure exactly when but the sun wasn't coming up for at least 2 hours if I recall correctly. The hike started off moderately and went on a good trail through dense underbrush which was wet with dew. Eventually we hit a dirt road and arrived slightly wet at a hairpin turn where the plaque and memorial site for the 1952 plane crash which slammed into Slesse Mountain during a winter storm. Rafael and I figured that we couldn't see the mountain and we might as well continue hiking in the darkness. About an hour later we arrived at the propellar cairn. A spot just below the mountain with a jumble of debris built from wreckage of that famed air crash. The sun was just coming out and we could now see granite walls and spires across the valley towards Mount Rexford and looked up at the rising walls of Slesse so near to us. From this point Rafael was a little bit confused about where we would proceed to the route. I lead off and dropped down traversing bushes and then rock slabs underneath the east buttress and finally trending up and right to a safe location off to the side of the famed pocket glacier.

Now it was clear how and where to go. No confusing book necessary to show you the route. I dashed under the remnants of the pocket glacier so that I didn't get struck by ice. Way back in the corner next to the east face the obvious ramp lead us up and around to gain the ridge. There was one exposed spot and the rest was simple. Just after crossing that section 2 lads showed up just below the pocket glacier. They stood there for about a minute or two and then a volley of ice spilled forth. I never did see them again. The beginning of the route is riddled with the usual low elevation bushes and small trees which seem able to survive the elevation, weather and bedrock for topsoil. We climbed together as much as possible. Only stopping when the rack ran out and then sometimes not, when easy terrain permitted. Before I realized it we had crossed the Northeast Buttress crest from east to north where it was cold and sometimes a little bit moist on the rocks. Soon enough we made our way to just right of the ridge crest where the wall got vertical. We moved up a slight overhanging section of rock clipping an old piton or bolt right at one of the crux pitches. The route then eased off to 5.7 and 5.8 interspersed with 4th and low 5th class until we hit a prominent ledge about halfway up the mountain.

From this ledge there was several hundred more feet of scrambling until the route changed character again. The route pretty much stayed on the north side of the buttress from here on out. The quality of the rock wasn't nearly as good as areas in the Sierras of some places in the Stuart Range but it was manageable due to the large holds that is often revealed. After a while we made it to a rusted out spinner bolt that was clearly placed during the first ascent ala Beckey, Marts, Bjornstad 1963. Tough old dudes for sure. I remember reading about how one of them had spent all night standing in aiders since he was caught out when night fell. I asked Fred later on but he just blew me off and wanted to talk about women instead. I guess they didn't have headlamps with them. In Challenge of the North Cascades by Fred Beckey they also mentioned large "Snafflehounds" eating at their packs and ropes. A hilarious name apparently crafted by Raffi Bedayn after visiting the Bugaboos and experiencing this creature's annoying habits during the early 1900s. It was good that we didn't see any of these rodents on our trip. The climbing kept pretty much in the 5.6 to 5.8 range all the way to the summit rocks, which we reached just before the sun was setting. Raf signed the register and we quickly found our descent route which basically dropped down a wall and then forced us down some nasty gullies filled with large debris and such. We snaked around ledges and made our final rappel via headlamps.

Now I was thinking how the hell will we find the trail while it's pitch black out. We made our way down as best we could and eventually hit a large gully system which drops away from the mountain westward. It became so dark at one point and we debated whether or not one way to go was correct or not a number of times. Finally I made the decision to just sit tight for a while, with the intentions of that "for a while" being all night. I just assumed would could use the rest. So I pulled out my bivy sack and got inside trying to keep in the body heat. I could tell that Rafael wasn't diggin' this. But he didn't really have a better plan. About every 30 minutes he would try to convince me that he knew his way out. I was being a nice fellow and followed him around like this all night until the sun rose. Maybe he just wanted to move around to keep warm.. By the time the sun came up our throats were so dry from thirst we felt like camels. Lucky enough we found the only patch of snow around and I happened to have a small canister stove and fuel to make some refreshing water. We munched on some berries too.

Rafael was convinced that we needed to take a specific gulley down off the mountain. I wasn't so sure but followed anyway. We crossed the gully and then made our way across a grassy slope, forged through a football field of devil's club and slide alder and made our way down through the woods like Sasquatch. It was obvious we didn't go the right way down. Too late for discussion now. Our best bet was to just go down and down, hoping we would hit the Slesse Creek Road. After making a number of rappells and bushwhacking around we did arrive right at the road. About 15 minutes later we found our bicycle stash. Rafael was bushed so I was on point to ride the 22 kilometers around the mountain and back to his truck. I zipped down the road and pedaled ALL THE LONG WAY back to the car. One word. Misery. It felt good to move without human power for once, after I got in the truck! Rafael and I made our journey back across the border uneventfully.

Looking back on this climb I can say that it is definitely worth doing. Don't expect exquisite granite cracks but the mountain has other features and scenery which I found well worth the effort. I don't have any photos to share since I left my camera on the summit during our haste. I can't remember what I did with that bike?!