A cold day in the clouds on Going to the Sun. No bears, no views.

Original Date: 8/25/24

This is my last opportunity of the season to try and summit Going to the Sun with my son. Our schedules work on this day, so we must make it happen. As they say, come Hell or high water. Sometimes, Hell is much higher up the mountain than you think.

A better saying would be Hell, high wind, freezing fog, and hypothermia. Generally, if I climb over 9,000 feet and see this weather over Glacier in the early morning, I will most likely call no joy and read a book in a hammock on my cabin porch.

It was sure pretty, but pretty wasn’t what I needed. The clouds were swirling around with no direction, so with some heat, the peaks might get below the cloud ceiling by afternoon. There were lots of maybes. Just looking out the car window is one thing. When you close the door behind you, it is all commitment.

There are lots of whitecaps on Lower St Mary, which is not a good sign. But there are always caps on the lake. It has to be much better a couple thousand feet higher. Sometimes, you must think like a tourist climber and ignore reality to get where you should not be.

The spur of Goat Mtn to the right was capturing some angry early morning light. If I had tried hard enough, I could have seen and watched it from the Beargrass Industrial Complex and probably through my cabin window from my nice, warm bed.

Little Chief even caught some of this Fury Road Alpenglow (ah, band name??), with Fullisade Mtn also getting a dose. And if ANY Red Bus Driver tries to sell Fullisade as the model for the Paramount movie studio logo, could you tip them accordingly? With Monopoly money. Or an Uno card. Or a bandaid. They earned it.

In case you didn’t read the sister post to this story, Mitch and I, this time, are allowed to reach the crux cliffs that we were denied on the last attempt due to bear-feeding activities. I don’t think he liked wearing a helmet (for rockfall, which is common in narrow chutes). Or the fact that he borrowed it from Patrick, who was known for questionable hair hygiene practices.

Mitch made good work of the worst 150 feet on the entire mountain. There are a couple of ways to get through it, depending on your torso length, leg reach, and upper body strength……. All I can say is choose wisely. And know your abilities (as well as limitations). 🙂

Argh. The upper saddle between the actual summit and the false. The last 500ish feet. All we could do was hope that it would blow off. After all, the wind was trying to blow us off every chance it got.

The fog was wet, and the wind was cold. So everywhere water vapor could stick long enough to freeze, it did. Once I got past the fear of hypothermia and opened my imagination, I could see pictures of these fantastic ice crystals. Like with clouds. This one was a grizzly bear trying to eat my arm.

 

These crystals were clearly the Grim Reaper, who was there to take my soul but couldn’t find it. I sold it for a six-pack of Budweiser and a five-pound block of Reagan cheese in the 1980s. My bad. I didn’t think I would need it.

The summit, at last. It felt so close to clearing. Maybe more wind? More heat from the valley floor? More time? Yep. There are no summit views today.

The hardest part of this picture was trying to explain to Mitch all of the amazing and cool stuff he couldn’t see as I do on Red Bus tours during stormy zero-visibility days. Yeah, those are the tours when you find out the misery actually does NOT like company.

But summits always are not what you see, but who you share them with. And I so wanted that to be true. But GoatBoy will never lie to you (only himself). It was a touch disappointing.

But on the bright side, in this picture, Mitch has bragging rights to…. any peak he wants. Who can prove him wrong? I personally would go around and tell everyone this was the top of Stimson. And if they don’t believe it, they can climb it themselves.

We hunkered down on the lee side as long as possible to keep out of the wind. And to keep our fingers from getting stiff. We would need all ten to navigate the cliffs going down. But it was not going to clear—time to descend.

We took a different line down from the ascent. The visibility was disorientating. But once we got below the cloud line, we had no problem finding that special cut in the cliffs, which is the only (safe) way and down. And I don’t consider the south-face route safe (at least not for a man of my stature).

Below 9000′, it was a different world. And the classic sea of peaks views Glacier Park is known for came back to life. And no feeding bears in the scree fields!!

After clearing the cliffs, we return to the Mataphi / GttS saddle. But the cloud ceiling just will not lift, keeping all of the peaks near us enveloped with freezing fog and wind.

The climb was enjoyable, and any day in the Park is a good day. We never saw another climber, which is good because this peak can be very popular (on a perfect day, of course). Sometimes, you have to throw the dice and go for it.

It’s a different world just a couple thousand feet down the mountain. The sun was shining, and we had to shed some layers. Two such brutal extremes on the same mountain hike—but that is the true Glacier Park in a nutshell.

The summit would not give it up to anyone today, but I’m okay with that. I got to spend some personal time (some would say harrowing) with my son in the heart of a place I love. Any climb is more than the summit. You must enjoy all the moving parts that got you there and relish every step.

Since I wrote this retrospectively, this is Going to the Sun three days after our climb. We had a big snowstorm in late August. Mitch and I were on the same Red Bus tour and had to be towed up to Logan Pass (passengers and all). Ah, for that, you have to wait ……

 Trust me, it will be a great story. GoatBoy out!