Spires of the Bugaboos (Cont.)

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Outside Magazine August 2001

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Spires of the Bugaboos (Cont.)


	The author plans his next move on South Howser Tower.

Leaving the hut at 3 a.m. we carried a light rack of protection (camming devices, chocks, slings), two ropes, a stove and fuel canister, two days of food, bivy sacks, and one sleeping bag. We picked our way over the Styrofoam surface of Vowell Glacier as a ribbon of orange illuminated a jawline of crooked black teeth along the eastern horizon. A steep ice gully led us down to the remote west side of the Howser Massif. Three hours after leaving the hut, we stood face-to-face with our objective.

Rob and I scrambled unroped up the first section. Tying in to the rope, we began running belays between fixed anchors when the ridge steepened past fourth class and hundreds of airy feet loomed below us. Cracks crisscrossed the rock like a spider's web, providing endless opportunities for protection and convenient hand and foot jams. We put most of our weight on our legs since the face was less than vertical. It was late afternoon and we'd climbed 1,500 feet when it suddenly became apparent that Joe's weather forecast was incorrect.

At the night-from-hell ledge, Rob and I crawled into our bivy sacks just before the clouds went electric. But now I'm too cold and scared to sleep. My only consolation is that Rob is taking it much harder than I am. Every minute or so I feel him shiver uncontrollably.



	Summit views.

A raw wind rakes across the ledge at dawn and wakes us from our half-sleep. A thin veneer of ice coats everything and Rob is spooning me hard. Worst of all, it's my lead, my "breakfast of fear." With frozen fingers I pick my way up a long chimney plastered with ice. This granite elevator shaft ends at a notch in the summit ridge several pitches higher. Suddenly we've got drop-offs on both sides, and a stunning view over the south side of the peak, toward Bugaboo Spire. We simultaneously climb along the spine of a knife-edge ridge. By noon, we're straddling a perch so narrow we can't comfortably stand: the summit of South Howser Tower. The sun burns away the clouds from yesterday's storm and treats us to a breathtaking 360-degree panorama. Rows of jagged, snow-covered peaks stretch around us like miniature Himalayas. In the immediate vicinity, Bugaboo, Pigeon, and Snowpatch Spires stand sentinel above the white skin of the Vowell Glacier. Crunching on a tangle of uncooked ramen, Rob turns to me. "What storm?" he says.

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