On Top of Ingall's Peak (7,700ft) : Way up close and personal with that queasy feeling that comes from realizing I want to be alive
Last weekend, Michael and I backpacked in to the Esmerelda Trailhead in Central Washington to first climb the easier south face of Ingall's peak. Then , on the next day, we woke to traverse the ridge starting at the Eastern Face. It was challenging for me, most of all mentally. Here are some photos of the trip:
First, we hiked up to Ingall's pass (about f
our miles, about 2, 400 ft in gain) where we set up our camp for the evening. The air was crisp and delicious. So we ate it up. Then we decided to go ahead and go for the west face that afternoon. Some nice goats came to greet us on our way up.
The view couldn't have been any better of Cascade peaks like Ranier and even Baker, in our opinion. After climbing up to the top of the
peak lit by an alpenglow, we rejoiced. There seems to be a feeling unmatched by any other while at high elevation in clear skies rising above majestic forests and deserts. And clarity of mind, too.
The next day, we tried for the east-starting traverse. It was one of the most difficult alpine (or any attempts of my life so far. Tame by the standards of most seasoned mountaineers, it was a large accomplishment for me.
We started the day optimistically by boun
ding over chossy blocks above Ingall's lake. And trying to take in all in stride, so to speak.
I was daunted by the sight of the north face snowfields below us as we crossed each gendarme, descended to the next pass and rose back up again. At times we straddled the knife-edge ridge like a mechanical bull. But
it was no time to be cocky, from what I could muster. I was going through some personal anguish, for sure. And, at the time, I was in utter disbelief of the beauty and power emanating from the expanse below. On top, I felt that the arms of the sky encircled me with wonder, threatened to send me plummeting to my death, promised me the world and deafeningly resounded thee fact of their indifference all in the same breathtaking instant.
Then, finally we were on top together. (And all we had to do then was get back down again.)
First, we hiked up to Ingall's pass (about f
our miles, about 2, 400 ft in gain) where we set up our camp for the evening. The air was crisp and delicious. So we ate it up. Then we decided to go ahead and go for the west face that afternoon. Some nice goats came to greet us on our way up.The view couldn't have been any better of Cascade peaks like Ranier and even Baker, in our opinion. After climbing up to the top of the
peak lit by an alpenglow, we rejoiced. There seems to be a feeling unmatched by any other while at high elevation in clear skies rising above majestic forests and deserts. And clarity of mind, too.The next day, we tried for the east-starting traverse. It was one of the most difficult alpine (or any attempts of my life so far. Tame by the standards of most seasoned mountaineers, it was a large accomplishment for me.
We started the day optimistically by boun
ding over chossy blocks above Ingall's lake. And trying to take in all in stride, so to speak.
I was daunted by the sight of the north face snowfields below us as we crossed each gendarme, descended to the next pass and rose back up again. At times we straddled the knife-edge ridge like a mechanical bull. But
it was no time to be cocky, from what I could muster. I was going through some personal anguish, for sure. And, at the time, I was in utter disbelief of the beauty and power emanating from the expanse below. On top, I felt that the arms of the sky encircled me with wonder, threatened to send me plummeting to my death, promised me the world and deafeningly resounded thee fact of their indifference all in the same breathtaking instant.
Then, finally we were on top together. (And all we had to do then was get back down again.)
posted by Rachael at
9/05/2007 04:59:00 PM
