The entire ridge traverse, from the right to left and back to the where the photo was made before the last descent to the Val San Nicolo (below) >click to enlarge

Val di Fassa’s Val San Nicolo Ridge Traverse

After twelve years together, living, working and playing in the mountains – Janine and I may well have just discovered our perfect day. One of the very best of about 4000 days together in the mountains. Janine found it, right there on the Val di Fassa map; a feature, some trails, a little creative route planning and then an announcement that we’ll be doing a “big ridge traverse” this week. Ok.

First up, I need to make a disclaimer if this is to be used as a route planner. This trail is NOT for everyone, it is far from easy, includes exposed climbing sections, requires comfort in high places, and a bit of route finding. Nevertheless, it is all there and certainly not an epic unless you choose to make it so. We saw just two other people on the trail, I asked them in Italian if they too thought it was amazing, the answer, “Ja, aber nicht so einfach”. Okay, they’re weren’t Italians and they’re weren’t enjoying it quite as much as us, but you might. If the following sounds good to you, and you are in the Dolomites, do not miss this experience.

Highlights: Via Ferrate, exposure, no crowds, abundant World War 1 history, tunneling, caving, scrambling, countless summits, two huts, and quite possibly the best views of any location in the Dolomites (if only the afternoon had been clear!!).

Janine in the early morning headed to the Zeni Bivouac and the start of the Via Ferrata F. Gadotti

Via Ferrata F. Gadotti and the Alta Via B. Federspiel

What Janine discovered on the map was the Alta Via B. Federspiel starting from the Val San Nicolo above the Val di Fassa just outside Pozza di Fassa. The feature is a massive circular ridge system with a trail tracing its crest, alternating between Via Ferrata and “advanced” hiking route. But she added to the trail, starting on the Cima Dodici (Sas da le Duodesh) on the Via Ferrata F. Gadotti above the Zeni Bivouac. From the summit, trails and more ferrate link to the Forcella la Costela and the start of the Alta Via B. Federspiel. From here, one thing is immediately obvious. It is going to be a long day. And this was just the first part, for this ridge system terminates at the Rifugio Passo delle Selle. But the ridge continues, becoming the Sentiero Atti Bepi Zac which mostly follows a WWI trench and tunnel system all the way to the Costabela.

This section is certainly the most raw for WWI history, for much still remains from the war 95 years ago. It is not prettied or tidied up, it is a mess of barbed wire, artillery placements, tunnels, living quarters and stone barriers. We found bomb shrapnel, pieces of old leather boots, and oddly, very oddly – many bone fragments of unknown origin. We have never seen bone fragments elsewhere, why here? While traversing this section the pace will certainly slow to have a morbid look at human history. The Austrian and Italians had it out on this high and lonely ridge. The Austrian tunnels have gun turrets facing south, the Italian versions with windows pointing north. Trenches are still in place right on the crest and dotted with caves built as sleeping quarters – it is this very system of trenches and exposed ledges that the trails follows.

Dan; How big is the Zeni Bivouac? This small...

From the Costabela the trail plummets from the crest down deep into the cirque at the end of the Val San Nicolo. Here we found another trail, not on the map, that connected us to the parallel ridge starting at the Pas de San Nicolo where a well placed hut awaits. This is the beginning of an all new ridge and the second, and return, section of the traverse. From the Rifugio Pas de San Nicolo the remainder of trail is much more well traveled and less rugged. While the entire first section is straight up & straight down in rocky terrain, this section is singletrack through grasses and wildflowers traversing up and down until it ends at the ski station Col de Valvagin. From here, we took the service road 800 meters down to the valley below where we had left the car at the Malga al Crocifisso.

We did the entire trail in one day, beginning at 6am, we returned to the car at 8pm. Stops were made for photos/views and a sizeable lunch of pasta (of course). The trail is slow going, especially due to the Via Ferrate and rocky terrain in the first part. We thought to run much of it but the running really only comes towards the end.

As described, the tour could be done in many ways, even using the huts for overnighting. Or, the first big peak climb and Via Ferrata could be skipped. All names are from the Tabacco Map 06 Val di Fassa. It is very difficult to say how long this trail is with how intricate the route is, we estimate 26-28 kilometers and about 3800 total meters of climbing. An interesting note is that the tour begins on Dolomite rock, turns to a long section of Gneiss (complete with a completely different feel), and then turns back to Dolomite.

What allows this trail to have such magnificent views is its position. The ridgeline is part of what separates the southern Dolomites from the northern. Therefore, when on top of the crest nearly everything may be seen. I have never seen one area where so much is visible; from the Sas dla Crusc, Tofana, Sassolungo, Catinaccio, Odla to the Pale di San Martino, Civetta and even the Agner. It is the perfect location from which to see the Dolomites.

Janine at the start of the Via Ferrata F. Gadotti

From the summit of the Cima Dodici looking into the Val di Fassa, the Cattinacio and Pozza

The second peak of the day, the Sas Aut

Via Ferrata F. Gadotti with the approach trail far below

Janine descending in caves from the summit of the Sas Aut

Long, steep descent through a chasm from the Sas Aut

Finally, the ridge traverse begins here, at the Forcella de la Costela. Far in the distance, at the top left is the Rifugio Passo delle Selle and the end of this section, just the beginning

Endless up and down on the ridgeline in this terrain getting to the first hut

Before the Rifugio delle Selle is the beginning of the War area with ledges that served as the frontlines

The majority of the day is spent right on the crest

War ledges

Dan having a pasta at Rifugio Passo delle Selle

Immediately after leaving the hut is a long climb and the real War trail through tunnels and trenches for about 3 kilometers

Barbed wire and religion

The trail leads through tunnels that were the network for moving around without being exposed to gunfire

Windows can be seen in the cliff faces that were gun placements

Finally some terrain for running, the original goal for the day, comes after the Rifugio Passo San Nicolo

Janine on the last section of ridge before the big descent back to the Val San Nicolo. The first ridge's earlier sections can be seen in the background

The final section on perfect running terrain. The ski station, the end of the ridge, can be seen in the distance

Dan, end of the day, end of the ridge - the final meters to the last summit

As we descended, our first climb came into view, the beginning of our giant circle. The bright orange Zeni Bivouac can be seen in the green below the walls

In the valley, the final obstacle to the car

Walking through WWI trenches, Monte Lagazuoi

The bottom entrance to the Lagazuoi Gallery

A Historical Walk to Dinner through the Lagazuoi Tunnels

Part of the culture of life in the Italian Dolomites is to share a dinner with friends in one of the many mountain huts (rifugi) – for us, this is habit. Sometimes we hike, other times it’s a ski approach, maybe a trail run, or even a mountain bike ride. But last night was something unique, we arrived to the Rifugio Lagazuoi via a pitch black tunnel from WWI that ascends nearly 400 meters to the top of Monte Lagazuoi.

Our friend Carolyn is doing the Alta Via 1 and called to invite us for dinner at the hut. It was the perfect summer evening to head up and see her as well as the hut’s owner and friend Guido Pompanin. Dinner was set for 6:45 – we arrived at the trailhead at 6 and immediately took note of the trail sign indicating a two hour walk to the hut. “Merda, RUN!”

Inside the Gallery

A couple hundred meters above the parking area the trail splits; options include a long hike around the peak to it’s backside and up to the summit hut, or a tunnel going straight up within the mountain itself. The tunnel is a kind of museum as it is a perfectly preserved piece of war history. Built over a period of many months by the Italian army during WWI, the tunnel was meant to access the top and ultimately blow up the strategically located Austrian artillery placement. The monumental effort of boring through a mountain simply to then blow it up paid off and the Austrians lost there stronghold. Today, where men once lived in misery and fear, iPhone wielding tourists now strut about bound for the hut and a pasta, I was no exception.

Janine, aka Little Red Riding Hood, exiting the Gallery on top

We opted for the tunnel as it is faster and more direct and we had done it many times before – but never in a rush to make dinner. Up we went, each step inside the inky darkness gaining us a half meter. The lights from our headlamps passed over the many interior features; the soldiers living quarters, a water cistern, and many portholes in the tower’s side for dumping the stone and debris from the tunnel. Finally, we arrived at the top, exited the tunnel and like the Italian army in WWI, found not a soul about. But while the Austrian army made a rapid departure after catching wind of the impending arrival of the Italians and a potential large explosion, today’s summit inhabitants were gathered inside the Rifugio enjoying an aperitif.

After the Gallery there is an easy walk to the summit

Our own dash for the hut ended with the front door opening and Carolyn stepping out to greet us – promptly at 6:45. From the dank tunnel we suddenly found ourselves in a room full of cheer. Guido handed us towels for washing up, drinks arrived, and many friends gathered about. A fun feast was next, storytelling and a beautiful sunset making silhouettes of distant Dolomite towers. The evening became late, people wandered off to bed, we said good night, put our headlamps on and headed back to the tunnels.

The final steps to the top and the Lagazuoi Hut

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Travel in Italy’s Dolomites

A visit to the Heart of the Dolomites should certainly include a day or two exploring the Lagazuoi and Cinque Torri area. This is some of the most rugged and scenic terrain in all of the Dolomites and is accessed from any of the surrounding valley’s; Cortina d’Ampezzo (Passo Falzarego from the east), Alta Badia (Passo Valparola) or Arraba (Passo Falzarego from the west).

Rifugio Lagazuoi is accessed by trail on foot, via the tunnel described above, or by cable car (open seasonally). The common summer itinerary is cable car up, hike around the summit, lunch & nap on the Rifugio Lagazuoi’s famous deck with unrivaled views of the Dolomites, then a descent of the WWI tunnel. Headlamp required, helmet recommended.

Visit Rifugio Lagazuoi for complete information, pricing, and booking.

Also, the hut keeper, Guido, is a great photographer and thanks to the situation of the hut, gets incredible weather photos. Follow the Hut’s Rifugio Lagazuoi Facebook Page or on Twitter @rifugiolagazuoi

Guido Pompanin & Dan Patitucci inside the Rifugio Lagazuoi

Trek in Iceland

Iceland is one those places that will have your face pressed with enthusiasm against the window of your arriving flight. Upon descent to this small North Atlantic island, you fight to get a glimpse of what is to come. It has a reputation; poor weather, stunning landscapes, massive ice caps and Gnome-like creatures living in all the moss covering much of the island. There is something special about visiting a cold island as opposed to a more common Pacific destination.

We have now been to Iceland three times and each visit has involved the Laugavegur Tour, a 55-75km trek from the interior to the southern coast. The first visit was to hike the Laugavegur Tour, the second to run it, and the third to do other things in Iceland. And yet we still managed to return and do our favorite sections of this phenomenal tour. It is just that good.

In fact here, I will say it… The starting point to this 4-6 day trek, Landmannalaugar, is the single most beautiful place I have ever been. It is sublime. Nowhere else have I stood in such utter disbelief at the unique beauty of a landscape.

We have an entire post already dedicated to the Laugavegur Tour, and its logistics, at DolomiteSport, click here.  And, our Iceland Photo Gallery is here.

Why is it so good? It is purely unique, there is no landscape that I have seen that matches its appearance. You will look at things in nature that you have never seen before, it is an art piece. It is the painting on the art gallery’s wall that has viewers commenting, “Wow, someone was thinking outside the box when they created this”. In fact, it does look to have been created on an easel by an artist who has mastered the use of color and composition. Pastels, earth tones, and simple black & whites have been applied to graphic elements such as volcanoes, lakes, lava flows and glacier filled bays. It is a landscape that forever leaves you wanting more.

The Laugavegur Tour itself is a journey through some of Iceland’s highlights. From the Central Highland’s geothermally active start, freshly hardened lava flows, natural hot springs, boiling mud pits, sulphur vents and wandering creeks – to the southern coast’s high glacier caps and black landscape – the entire trek is fascinating, and for those interested in a trekking trip out of the ordinary, the perfect destination.

As professional mountain sport photographers, we have this massive database of photos that I must work within each day. But for us it is far more than a collection of work images, it is a collection of memories. The nature of the way we work is to photograph our experiences, not just document others. As a result, we have a visual reminder of our lives and all the things we do.

In the last ten years we have been on countless trips; climbing, skiing, running and hiking. So, which experiences stand out amongst them all, and why? Finally, can our trips inspire others to go on their own?

What are the criteria for a favorite trip? Beauty, Emotion, Landscape, Travel, Difficulty, Effort and of course the friends we share it all with. The envelope please…

In no special order, according to Dan & Janine Patitucci, the Top 5 Mountain Sport Trips are :

1. The Ortler Ski Tour, Italy

2. Hiking & Running Iceland's Laugavegur Tour

3. Trail Running the Tour du Mont Blanc. France, Italy, Switzerland

4. Climbing the Evolution Traverse, Sierra Nevada, California

5. Alpine Climbing the Berner Oberland Region's three classics: Monch, Jungfrau, Eiger. Switzerland

Now for the fun part, or parts 1 – 5, telling each story of each experience, with photos. Stay tuned.

Rae Lakes sunset, John Muir Trail, Sierra Nevada

As mentioned in our earlier post about John Dittli’s new coffee table book Walk the Sky, John himself would be writing a follow up article with his thoughts about tackling a photography project that required hiking 220 miles of the most rugged terrain in the lower 48 – on foot.

Walk the Sky : by Special Guest Contributor John Dittli

A certain burden had been lifted. On day five of hiking the John Muir Trail this last summer with my wife Leslie, I came to the realization that the project was over. Four years of wandering back and forth, constantly searching, working if you will, for the right composition, the right light in the right place, had left me well aware of every bend, every hill. But heading up the south side of Forester Pass, I became relieved of all that.

I no longer would have to look ahead, but rather now had the opportunity to reflect on past days, months and years. To many the walk along the JMT is a lifetime accomplishment, and it is certainly worthy of such a cause. For myself, after a lifetime of weeks and months spent exploring wild lands, I was not expecting any kind of epiphany along the Muir Trail.

Having spent my childhood summers criss-crossing the Range of Light, end-to-end, painstakingly avoiding the JMT, I was well aware of references to the trail as the John Muir Freeway. In fact I have previously referred to it as such myself. For me the JMT was merely a crowded pathway to use on my way to some other remote location.

It wasn’t until I started on the Walk the Sky project that it became evident; hiking the John Muir Trail is in fact, a social walk through some of the finest mountain scenery in North America. Accepted as such the JMT becomes a truly “world class” trek.

As I sat atop Forester Pass, looking north across countless divides, I reflected not only on the places I had seen, but the people met: the young curly haired woman whose beautiful voice I heard singing on the breeze, or the grizzled old man who was no less beaming when he talked of days “following the music of water”.

Indeed there was an epiphany; that wilderness truly can be a state of mind. While I personally still very much value the trail less, I also see the importance of places like the John Muir Trail. A thread not just connecting place, but a common thread binding an environmental and cultural heritage.

To see more of John’s work, and to get information about ordering the book Walk the Sky, visit: JohnDittli.com

Follow John’s adventures, photography and writing via Twitter : John Muir Trail or the Walk the Sky Facebook Fan Page

Below…… some of John’s favorite images from 25 years of working as a professional photographer.

Wildflower bloom in Mojave Desert

Climber on summit of Mt. Challenger, North Cascades National Park

Dan Patitucci on the Silvretta Ski Tour, Austria

Evolution Basin, John Muir Trail, Sierra Nevada

Cathedral Peak sunset, Tuolumne Meadows, Yosemite National Park

Skier in flight, Mammoth, California

This morning, as I watched John cartwheel down Lower Rock Creek’s single track mountain bike trail, I decided he would make a great profile.

John in his element skiing Austria's Silvretta Tour

We first started hearing about John Dittli in 2001 when we moved to California’s Eastern Sierra. He is an outdoor photographer, passionate about the Sierra Nevada, and he gets after backcountry skiing with the enthusiasm of Tiger Woods traveling to Las Vegas. Certainly, he was someone we would have to meet.
It did not take long to cross paths with John and his wife Leslie. Now, nearly ten years later, we are all great friends and beginning to be able to look back on our own collection of experiences.

At 52, John can still drop the fittest of the fit in the mountains. With some fine Swiss mountain blood coursing through his veins, he puts it to good use in the summer months hiking throughout the Sierra, and in the winter, skiing peaks literally everyday. His chiseled features are softened by the broad smile he often wears.

The Dittli house; strawbale, recycled, solar, green, quality

He and Leslie spent 7 years hand building what is likely the Eastern Sierra’s most beautiful home, with the best view, and in the ideal location from which to walk out the door to play. They have mastered a balanced, healthy life as mountain people. Details are not skimped on, it shows in their house and it shows in their work.

John and Leslie have just published their first coffee table photo book following up Ansel Adam’s 1938 book visually showing the John Muir Trail. Walk the Sky is now the definitive photo essay of the entire John Muir Trail, which John has now completed twice on foot and once on skis and always with a camera.

John sampling Italian cuisine

John’s style of play in the mountains is legendary amongst his close friends. We know how hard he charges but you won’t hear it from John, we’ll have to do some storytelling for him. He prefers to roam wild areas, ski lines others don’t know about and to photograph the natural landscape with a unique, loving eye for the mountains and their infinite details.

Last year John came to ski with us in the Dolomites. I was a bit nervous about how he would fare in the more crowded mountains of Europe. For his first day in the backcountry we chose a popular peak with a safe glacier descent for bad weather days, which it was – atrocious in fact. We arrived to a bustling parking lot, so much so that John asked, “I thought we were backcountry skiing”.
“Uh ya, this is backcountry skiing Euro style.”
“Oh come on, all these people are going into the backcountry!”
Once in the up track, John stayed silent for only so long. With 70 something’s charging by in lycra suits and groups of skiers with every body shape and clothing color combo known to man, all of whom proving too fast to pass – John, in his element but completely baffled by the “scene”, had to speak up.
“This is insane!”
I convinced myself that he liked it, he just didn’t know it yet.

John Dittli, Silvretta Tour, Austria

Hours later at the hut, with a beer in hand and smiling ear to ear after a perfect 1000 meter powder run, John admitted to now “getting it”.
All those people, like him, were having a great time.
It was great seeing John go from shock to enjoying the added component of a social life in the mountains.

Now that we are back in his territory it has been rewarding seeing his new book realized. Throughout the years I know he has worked long and hard to create a book worthy of representing the experience that is one of the world’s finest treks, the Sierra Nevada’s John Muir Trail.

In part 2 of this profile, John himself will explain the process of visually documenting the 220 mile John Muir Trail, show his favorite photos and tell a humorous tale or two.

Get to know John & Leslie before part 2 of this post, visit John Dittli.com

Also, join the Walk the Sky Facebook Fanpage

John Dittli and Leslie Goethals

Dan Patitucci on the Shepherd Pass Trail

Mt. Tyndall

Clif Bar #4 and it's only 8 a.m.

With our new found enthusiasm for trail running, Mt. Tyndall was the perfect testing ground for a truly big day. While the peak does have a steep northeast face with some real climbing, all the routes were closed for Bighorn Sheep grazing. This left the long, slabby northwest face as the alternative. But first the run in, 12 miles up and over Shepherd Pass – then Mt. Tyndall for 9000 vertical feet of gain.

Our day started at 3 a.m. as we decided we did not want to look at the distances that would separate us from our goal. We chose to run Tyndall carrying little more than numerous Clif Bars, camera and water. Our decision proved wise as the day was long and our knees began a protest while descending the trail.
Tyndall is a triangular peak hidden behind its more famous neighbor, the bulky Mt. Williamson. Our preferred line was the North Rib, a 3rd class scramble on slabs piled with rubble.
Tyndall is a mountain overshadowed by its neighbor, seldom visited by anyone other than 14er baggers and yet has an amazing view in all directions but east. Its remoteness and isolated position give it a sense of being a bit more wild than other Sierra areas we visited. While we initially looked forward to it the least, it is one of the first we remember when we look back on our season.

Mt. Tyndall

Mt. Williamson

Mt. Williamson is at time closed for Bighorn Sheep grazing – skipped.

Split Mountain

The southernmost 14,000 foot peak of the Palisade Crest differs in many ways from its northerly neighbors. Rather than the typical granite of the Sierra, Split is composed of metamorphic rock of far less quality than the surrounding igneous variety.
Named for its appearance, the summit pinnacle is split in two, cleaved by a couloir that rises from bottom to top of the mountain itself.
In this couloir sits one of the Sierra’s longest ice climbs, and our objective.
Earlier in the summer Janine and I had also run into to climb Split via it’s walk up roue from the East Side. But it was the couloir that had caught my attention and I knew I had to try it.
On Thanksgiving Day my best friend Mark Leffler and I found ourselves climbing up the first pitches of the clear water ice draining from the base. A snow ramp led from the ice to a steep bulge in the couloir. A chimney on the left side exited on slabs covered in spindrift. With nightmare quality rock refusing to accept pro of any sort, Mark decided to venture onto the slab in the hopes of finding something better. Something better turned out to be worse than the rotten chimney. After desperately searching for something that did not crumble under the weight of an ice axe, Leffler opted for the down climb and a rapid exit out of the spindrift avalanching couloir.
Luckily, several hundred feet north of the couloir is another gulley though lower angled and filled with snow. This one allowed us access to the north ridge and a quick scramble to the summit.

White Mountain

We found driving the dirt roads to the parking lot more difficult than the “climb” to the summit of White Mountain.  With a variety of research work done on the mountain, White has roads crisscrossing its upper slopes. The summit path is actually a jeep trail that ends at the small summit hut.
The terrain is nothing like the Sierra, rather it is a blank and richly earth toned landscape seemingly void of life. Yet there is an entirely different ecosystem in the Whites. Bighorn Sheep and wild horses still roam the high plains, cactus can be found as ground cover and of course there are the famous Bristlecone Pines. Believed to possibly be the world’s oldest living things, the Bristlecones are passed on the drive to the parking area for the summit hike.
White may best be done as the last peak so as to look across to the Sierra and recall all the places visited and all the moments experienced. We sat out the cold afternoon of a late fall day on the summit of White Mountain and recalled all that had happened during our time in the mountains.

Janine Patitucci running out from White Mountain, behind

It turns out it was not about the climbs, or the individual peaks or even the places. Rather, it was about the experience of the project as a whole, and the friends we shared it with.
Our lives changed as a result of getting to the tops of all these peaks, committing to such a project set us on our path which has become a career doing such things. It is not overly difficult or complicated to get to any one summit, but it is something to experience them and let them teach you things previously unknown about yourself. That is the beauty of being a climber who plays in the mountains.

Logistics and Issues

Backcountry permits are required for all of California’s 14ers excluding White Mountain. For all but the Palisade and Whitney regions, permits are easily obtained at the local USFS Ranger Stations in Bishop, Lone Pine and Big Pine.
Whitney and the Palisades are a different story.
Unless you know the exact dates you wish to climb Whitney months in advance, you’ll have to apply for permits the day before your desired entry date. This means being at the Lone Pine Ranger Station at 11am sharp the day before your approach. There, you’ll stand in line as part of a lottery for the unclaimed permits and walk in registrations. You may or may not receive a permit, in which case you will have to try again the next day.
This is the only option unless you receive a permit when permits are issued the previous spring. Hardly convenient for road tripping climbers.
However, with permit in hand, you’ll be legal to stay at your destination for up to 14 days. The Rangers, it seems, prefer to protect the trailhead more than the backcountry camping areas.
Luckily, we won the lottery our first day, and scratching our heads at the non-sense of the system, we headed for the portal with our permission slips to enter public lands.

Mountain Guides

Sierra Mountain Center : Longtime California and Sierra climber and UIAGM Guide SP Parker manages one of the Sierra’s most experienced guiding services. Running into SP in the Sierra became such a common occurrence that summer that we were forced to become great, and now “old”, friends.

Mountain guides are an excellent option for those new to the area or for those less experienced climbing in serious mountain terrain.

Jay Bettencourt on Mt. Russell's Startrekkin' 5.10a

Trail running into Mt. Langley

Climbing California 14ers

With seven 14ers down and seven to go, we had options; rock climbing in the Whitney group or try one of the long car to car endeavors. We decided to do the Sierra’s southernmost 14er, Mt. Langley, deal with the huge distance to and from, and then go to Whitney.
And for this we opted to put our fitness to the test and try this new “mountain running” idea. Going lighter yet, with just a hydration pack and running clothes, we left the car in the dark, huffed and puffed to the summit, and were back enjoying beers kept frosty in a creek by early afternoon.
The athlete in me took note of this style of moving in the mountains. Lots of ground covered, little pack weight, committed to finishing, goal oriented – I like it.

Mt. Langley

The furthest south 14er in the state, Mt. Langley seems more closely related to the desert than the alpine peaks further north. Approached from the south, the peak is little more than a very long walk. With the addition of the 3rd class East South-East Ridge, the day does have some variety and a loop that can be done from the ridge’s starting point.
Mt. Langley was our favorite run of the season. Beginning at over 9,000 feet, the overall elevation gain is fairly minor and all comes at the base of the actual peak, 10 miles from the car. The Cottonwood Lakes Trail is a surprisingly lush approach to the distant dry peaks.
The descent is fast and fun screeing down towards Old Army Pass and Cottonwood Lakes where we napped on a boulder along the lakeshore before the knee friendly trail back to the car.

The Whitney Region

For me, the lower 48‘s tallest peak had always held a sort of ugly connotation. I imagined a peak lacking all of what I love about climbing in the mountains; freedom, a pristine environment and a difficult to obtain summit. In order to enjoy the Whitney region during the summer months it is best to turn off any idea of what the High Sierra should be like. The Mt. Whitney experience is like no other.
The first step is in acquiring the necessary permits (see Logistics, part 3). Next comes the approach which shares the same trail as the hiking route for the first section. Thankfully, climbers veer off from the masses with their mandatory neon permits hanging like permission slips on field tripping grammar school kids. Rather than following the highway-like trail along the South Fork of Lone Pine Creek, climbers follow the more primitive North Fork drainage to the cirque beneath the Whitney massif. There, at Iceberg Lake, climbers establish base camp from which to climb any of a number of the area’s offerings.

The Mt. Whitney Group

Janine Patitucci on Whitney's East Buttress

Our own experience at Iceberg was initially one of shock. Unlike the usual quiet camps in the mountains, this was bustling with climbers and guided groups.
However, as climbers will be climbers, we soon found some old friends and were quick to make new ones. Unlike the hordes on the other side of the crest who were shuffling along on their way to an  “I Climbed Mt. Whitney” shirt, the climbers in camp were the usual mix of dirt bags and misfits with whom we felt right at home.

Mt. Whitney

Two climbing routes on Whitney see the vast majority of all the traffic; The East Face and the East Buttress. 5.4 and 5.8 respectively, it is hard to say which is better. The East face is more unique while the East Buttress offers better climbing. We did both several times during our stay at Iceberg and enjoyed them more each time.

Our first trip up Whitney was via the East Buttress and started late in the day. Numerous pitches of quality climbing leads to some blocky scrambling before the summit. The closer we got to the top, the more our silence was giving way to muffled voices.
Once on the summit, we were greeted with applause from the masses as it seemed to them we had come from the abyss. We counted over 50 people, 23 on cell phones, the rest on two way radios to friends still on trail or camp.
For our following summit visits, we found it best to put all climbing gear away below the summit so as to pull onto the top and blend in.

Though somewhat anticlimactic to a great day of climbing, the summit of Mt. Whitney is special. We outlasted the crowd and discovered that in almost every case, they must leave by late afternoon so as to make it to the car at a reasonable hour. Suddenly we were alone. What was like a city park scene an hour before had magically transformed back to an alpine Sierra summit. In our solitude, we enjoyed the day’s final light and relished the fact that we are climbers and able to move about in the mountains free of schedule.
With headlamps at the ready, we descended the well worn Mountaineers Route back to camp and the greetings of friends.

Tommy Caldwell and Beth Rodden on the Tower Traverse, 5.4 East Face of Mt. Whitney

Dan Patitucci on the Fresh Air Traverse, 5.4. East Face of Mt. Whitney

Descending Whitney's Mountaineer's Route

Iceberg Lake Camp beneath Mt. Whitney, day

Iceberg Lake Camp beneath Mt. Whitney, night

Each morning's view from Iceberg Lake

Mt. Russell. Many, many lines

Mt. Russell

From Basecamp, one can only see the top third of Mt. Russell’s south face rising up from behind a ridge. There is nothing quite like it anywhere in the area, perfectly parallel splitters all terminate on a ledge about 400 feet below the summit. The same splitters that nearly reach the ground hundreds of feet below.
Mt. Russell is the choice climbers peak of all the 14ers. Numerous quality routes litter the south and west walls, all of superb quality. The two standout features on Russell are the Fishhook Arete and the Mithral Dihedral, both 5.9, both 5 star.
For us, Mt. Russell was our first real climbing of the 14er project, it would also be the first day where we rappelled for our lives to escape a thunderstorm.

Four pitches into the Mithral Dihedral it began. Skipping the whole poor weather break in period, our puffy white clouds went straight to tempest. Within minutes it was snowing hard enough to obscure our visio and rendered it impossible to look up for all the snow tumbling down the face. With Janine and I’s belay rigged for shooting photos, and our friends still climbing up to us, we were forced to spend some time dealing with getting out of the nightmare we found oursleves in. To compound our problems, lightning and thunder became as one and the air literally began to sizzle and smell a bit odd. I do however recall thinking, “If we survive this, we’ll have some good pics”.

Finally, Mark Leffler pulled into our anchor after a heroic battle throwing handjams into a soaking wet corner. Survival instincts went into effect, the first of several rappel anchors was built, and we began our retreat. After some exciting rappels we were back on the ground, soaked and with new respect for puffy white clouds.

Mark Leffler gunning it for the anchors in snowfall and lightening

Mark Leffler in the Mithral Dihedral

A genuine look of concern on Dan Patitucci's face

Dave Miller on Mt. Russell's Startrekkin' 5.10a

Jeff Angermann on the Mithral Dihedral 5.9

The following day we returned to retrieve our gear and complete the Mithral Dihedral. In sunny, warm conditions we once again started up the golden corner, slotting perfect hand jams for 400 feet before pulling out of the vertical corner on rails and huge incut edges.
From the end of the corner, about 400 feet of pleasant 4th class climbing separates you from the summit and time to make mental notes of all the other Russell routes you plan to return for.

Mt. Muir

From Iceberg Lake, Mt Muir is obscured from sight behind the massive towers of the Whitney Crest. Sitting as a bump on the crest a mile south of Whitney’s summit, Muir meets the Sierra’s definition of an independent peak and is therefore considered a 14er. Oddly, the areas most spectacular peak, the Keeler Needle, is not considered an independent peak. While its summit elevation is 14,000 feet, its position is not far enough away from the summit of neighboring Mt. Whitney to give it 14er status – whatever. Muir however, does. Sad that the iconic character of the Sierra Nevada has such an unremarkable peak named after him.
From Iceberg lake we crossed the Pinnacle Ridge separating the Whitney cirque from the Muir cirque. There, we gained the East Ridge of Mt. Muir and followed its contrived and confusing line of 4th class to the top. From the summit we could peer 100 feet beneath us to the traffic pattern on the Whitney Trail. Muir receives little attention even though the summit is literally a few minutes from the trail. Viewed from the trail on the west side it is barely noticed, and as a result the summit goers pass by without regard.

With the Palisades and Whitney Group now complete – so too was our technical rock climbing. Mt. Tyndall’s climbing routes were closed for Bighorn Sheep grazing as was all of Mt. Williamson. Split Mountain holds an ice climb that would be a route for the late fall, and of course we were saving White Mountain for last so as to look out upon the Sierra with all new memories.

Part 3 will wrap things up with the balance of peaks as well as some Logistical Info and Mountain Guide tips

This fall we helped Sue Johnston and Chris Scott make plans for hiking the Alta Via 1. When it was finished they kindly put together a story of their primary impression. The topic; the mountain hut.

Chris and Sue come from outside Ventura, California. Sue is a two time time winner of Colorado’s Hardrock Ultra as well as numerous other 100 miles races. She also holds the speed record for the John Muir Trail. More info about Sue can be read at Salomon Running or her blog’s Dolomite entry, RunSueRun.

Thanks to Sue Johnston and Chris Scott for the text below.

Rifugio = Mountain Hut. “Mountain Hut” usually conjures up a one room, rough hewn, log cabin hidden deep in the wilderness below a dense canopy, offering brief respite to the wandering hiker in search of flat and dry ground, a roof over one’s head, perhaps escape from persistent mosquitoes, yet maybe a mouse or two for company.  After you’ve heated your dinner and stretched your sleeping bag over the floor, and night has stolen daylight, only your headlamp reminds you of dimension within the hut’s walls.

The reality of rifugi (plural of “hut”) in the Dolomites is quite the opposite.  Think:  “this is the best aid station I’ve ever visited!” and then repeat that experience about every 10K, or in some cases, within spitting distance of the next.  Now envision the Dolomite mountain hut offering commanding views in almost every direction.  Welcome to Italy!

Rifugi dot the trail at seemingly designed intervals.  The proximity of one rifugio to the next encourages you to pack light – you’ll need only your choice of clothing for the length of your trek.  But what about food?  Since the staff at each rifugio spends its entire season there, they’ll be well fed.  If they’re well fed, you’ll be well fed, too.  This equates to a full menu of delightful treats.

Complementing the menu is beer on tap and a well-stocked bar, further enhanced by local grappas. For lack of clear translation, grappa is Italian for moonshine, only here in various flavors and colors.  As our new Italian friend suggested, “take a hit, roll the grappa across your teeth with your tongue, then breathe in quickly through bared teeth.  You’ll get snockered quicker!”  It almost worked.

Most rifugi also offer hotel-equivalent accommodations, as well; the loftier and more remote rifugi perhaps bunk beds.  On our five day hike of Alta Via 1, we survived one bunk bed group snorefest, the other nights in private rooms listening to just our own snoring.  Truthfully, even the snorefest wasn’t problematic – we were tired enough from each day’s hike that we could have slept through the finale of the 1812 Overture.  Full stomachs from dinner created a lethargy that made sleep easy; we justified the bulging stomachs as investment for the next day’s hike.

Up early for breakfast.  Salami and cheese panini for later on the trail.  Visit another rifugio down trail for more coffee.  Stop every 100 meters to take in another spectacular, breathtaking vista.  Enjoy an afternoon break for more coffee and snacks.  Then press on to make it to the day’s end rifugio in time for a warm shower, happy hour, dinner, and another night’s sleep between sheets.

Lather, rinse, repeat… for as many days as you can afford and are willing to enjoy.  The tease is to linger at any one rifugio, for each designs to keep you in the clutches of endless hospitality. Of course, avoid the tease, as more of the same awaits you at the next rifugio.  When (not if) you decide to run/hike the Alta Via 1, anticipate the rifugi pampering – you’ll re-define your standards for ultras’ aid station fare!! Hope you enjoyed reading our impressions of the Alta Via 1.

Sierra Nevada lenticular sunset

It was great fun to read this text and see how both our outlook and lives have changed. After the summer in which we finished the project, we decided to finally settle in California’s Bishop, where we lived for six years, exploring the Sierra and continuing to build our photography careers.

Climbing California 14,000 Foot Peaks

Middle Palisade naptime view

In 2001 we found ourselves homeless. We had a VW Westfalia that, on occasion started, a lot of time, and tons of motivation to build our photography business. We were also climbers with a love for California’s Sierra Nevada.
Our summer home was wherever our van broke down, and so for the summer of 2001, we, or shall I say it, “decided” to spend some time in the Eastern Sierra. I had long wanted to climb all of California’s 14,000 foot peaks and realized the time was right.
To see if we could get some work out of the idea we queried Rock & Ice Magazine. The response, “Do it and we’ll publish it”.
And so it started.

The creators that be were feeling extraordinarily generous the day the ingredients were gathered for California’s Sierra Nevada; reliable, stable weather, stunning scenery and flawless golden granite, all of which are easily accessible from the high desert of the range’s eastern side. For climbers and backpackers the range is unequalled for summer weather.

Mt. Shasta's Casaval Ridge

For whatever reason, we humans enjoy tackling goals that involve numbers, specifically quantities of like quantities. In California, a common project, whether it be in one season or a lifetime, is to climb all the 14,000 foot peaks.
The Sierra Nevada range has 13 individual peaks over 14,000 feet (14ers) while two others exist on their own; White Mountain in the nearby Inyo Range and the northernmost and lone volcano, Mt. Shasta. Several of the peaks would not receive the traffic that they do if they did not have the magic elevation, yet as a group, and a goal, the overall combination is a wonderful collection of experiences.

Climbing Casaval Ridge

At first glance, I was not overly enthusiastic with all the route info. As a climber I wanted 5th class. While many do have technical routes, many others have little more than trails to the top. It looked like we would be doing some hiking, and at this I shuddered. Now, years later, I look back and understand it was the beginning of our careers as trail runners – what has turned out to be one of our favorite sports.

Our project began in the spring on the snowy slopes of Mt. Shasta. One of the Cascade’s volcanos, Shasta sits well isolated from California’s other 14,000 foot peaks, or any other major summit, near the Oregon border. Completely dominating the surrounding landscape, it is considered sacred by many, not the least of which are skiers and climbers who come in herds to take advantage of its bounty of offerings, and especially the rich, spring corn harvest.

To be on the mountain alone is truly a treat, and we were lucky enough to have it to ourselves. A late storm blasted the mountain with strong, freezing winds but a good forecast had us thinking ahead. On skis, we headed up while it was still raging hoping the forecast would turn out correct, and it was. The summit morning was crystal clear and freezing allowing our route, the popular Casaval Ridge, to be in perfect shape.

Mt. Shasta's summit plateau

Climbing Shasta involves breathing hard while trudging along. Technical difficulty is minimal, just a basic understanding of traveling on snow and ice, along with well prepared lungs and good weather, and you should get to the top.
The route passes volcanic towers before gaining a long ramp to the summit plateau. Our crampons barely scratched the surface of the windswept blue ice as we crossed the plateau to the summit pinnacle.  There, inhaling the noxious sulfur fumes that serve as reminders to what you are on top of, the reality of the mountain’s sizes becomes apparent. Shasta sits alone and on a clear day one has a 360 degree view without obstruction.
Once descending, we hurried to where we had left our skis and were soon flying down the mountain. Shasta’s slopes stretch for miles and from 12,000 feet we were on a gravity induced path to our car who’s door we arrived at with ski’s still attached.

The Palisade Crest from basecamp

The Palisade

Next up, but not until early August, were the Palisades. Arguably the Sierra’s best true Alpine playground, we found the climbing much to our liking. Steep couloirs, quality ridge climbing and sound rock had us loving our days. We were in no hurry to leave the otherworld nature of the area, and the basecamp full of characters.

Our arrival to the Palisade Basin left us awestruck to the fact that something so alpine exists in the Sierra Nevada, much less in California. Sitting next to the Palisade Glacier (little more than a large snowfield yet the largest glacier in the Sierra) is basecamp for most of the climbing. From camp is an unobscured view of the crest and all its lines.
The Palisade’s six 14,000 foot summits are not so much a series of peaks as they are a series of bumps on the mile long crest.  Traversing the crest involves putting all your skills as a rock climber and route finder to the test.

North Palisade & Starlight Peak

Our first day had the ridgeline’s high point, North Palisade, as the focus. In addition, we planned a traverse further north so as to include Starlight Peak. The classic route on North Pal is to climb the class 3 ice U Notch to the crest where easy 5th class rock leads to the summit. The U Notch, like its steeper neighbor the V, varies in steepness from season to season. The crux is typically found at the bottom where the bergschrund opens as a massive chasm blocking access to the couloir itself.  Crossing the bergschrund involves climbing down, across and then out. More like a lesson in ice spelunking than climbing, it is nevertheless fascinating to explore the glacier from inside. Once in the couloir, several hundred feet of low angle ice await.

The Palisade glacier really is a glacier, crevasses and all

On top of the couloir is more rock leading to the summit. The difficulty is in route finding as the crest is littered with towers and blocks at every angle making passage tricky. The climbing is slow but the views keep you inspired, it is like being on a summit the whole time.
Once on top of North Palisade, we continued along the crest towards the next 14er, Starlight Peak. A large notch separates the two and serves as the day’s crux.
The summit of Starlight itself is a spire stuck in the crest and for most, summiting involves lassoing the tip and climbing the rope Tarzan style to the top.

Matt Samet nearing the North Palisade summit. Not required, nor recommended.

Mt. Sill

We correctly regarded Mt. Sill as a rest day after the previous day’s effort. Our goal was to spend 4 days in the Palisade basecamp from which we could summit five 14ers. The approach from the car to the Palisade Basecamp is a relatively easy one so we opted for heavier packs loaded with good food. Our goal was simply to climb all the 14ers, not to climb them quickly as is possible by doing a traverse of the whole crest in one push, something I would do car to car years later, discovering what the word exhaustion means.
For this trip, food and friends to share it with was of the utmost importance.

Climbers headed to the crest at sunrise

We awoke late the second morning and had a leisurely breakfast and good Peet’s coffee before heading up to the base of the ridge.
Mt. Sill’s Swiss Arete was a perfect match for the amount of effort we wanted to put forth. The line is primarily 3rd and 4th class with a short, technical bit of 5.6 climbing. The Swiss Arete serves as a divider between the North Palisade Crest and the Southern sector, and it is one of the few spots where both areas can be viewed.
I found the climbing so enjoyable that as I pulled over the lip of a block and reached up for the next,  I was surprised to discover that I was on the summit. With its centralized position, Mt. Sill may have the best view in the Sierra.  Complete with smooth, tilted blocks, it is a summit to lounge on and take in the immensity and wildness of the Sierra Nevada.

Polemonium

Barely noticeable as an independent peak, Polemonium has possibly the best route of the Palisade’s 14ers. The V Notch is the classic Sierra couloir. Narrower and steeper than its easier neighbor, the U, the V climbs like a route while the U is more of an approach.
In 2001, the first 80 feet were unusually steep and combined the August weather, allowed for dreamy, styrofoam conditions.

JIm Karn on Thunderbolt Peak

Ice screws are recommended protection as the gulley’s side walls, while tempting with rock pro, are loose and not worth the effort. As the morning warmed, we dodged some rockfall by staying to the sides before arriving in full sun near the top. With only one hundred feet remaining, I found my lead come up short before reaching safer ground. Stuck in the middle of the icy expanse, I placed three screws and began belaying my friends. By the time they arrived I had every screw available in as an anchor, my original three screws poking out of the slushy mess an inch more than when I first arrived.
Once on top we discovered we were not through with Polemonium. A steep notch separates the summit from the ridge with wildly improbable 4th class climbing out of it to the top. A rope is strongly recommended.

Thunderbolt

Our day on Thunderbolt nearly had it living up to its name. Warm, clear summer days and t-shirt climbing gave way to the first thunderheads of our stay.  A dash up the Underhill Couloir put us at the base of the short ridge to the summit and a view to the threatening clouds arriving from the west. 4th class led to the summit block where a boulder resides as the fifth 14er of our Palisade visit. A tricky and unprotected 5.9 boulder problem guards the top. Frantically, we  tagged the summit and dashed down ahead of the incoming tempest.
Back in basecamp we celebrated the completion of round two, five 14ers in four days. Six of the 14 down, eight to go.

At the beach, Sierra style

After finishing five of the six Palisade 14ers, we began our less than enthusiastic march to Middle Palisade and our first 3rd class route. Our day began like all the others, hike to the base, gain the buttress, climb rock to summit. Yet today was different in that we climbed side by side with no rope and no rack, we were liberated. Our dreaded 3rd class route became one of our favorites. It had everything all the others had, exposure, rapid elevation gain and good rock, it just had no technical climbing. The reason why we love climbing in the mountains became even clearer, we simply love being there.

Once back in town, we revisited the hit list with new found enthusiasm. We realized that climbing all the 14ers wasn’t necessarily about the climbing, but rather the project as a whole, each peak offers its own character, its own set of challenges and maybe most importantly, its own education. And this was the best sort of schooling.

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Part 2 will include a nearly tragic storm on Mt. Russell plus route by route info for each peak as well as Mountain Guide and logistical information for getting permits.

To be continued…

Mark Leffler gunning it for the anchors in snowfall and lightening