An Ultraneering Challenge in the Cordillera Blanca: A Story From the Live Your Dream Grant

Out for a glacier stroll the day before Alpamayo. PC: Nick Nasca

Adapted from the 2023 trip report by Nick Nasca

Mike in a meadow with the Husacaran Massif in the background on our first day in the range. PC: Nick Nasca

In the Summer of 2023, I went to the Cordillera Blanca with my friend and climbing Partner Mike Buyaskas. We were supported by the AAC's Live Your Dream Grant and the Loa Fund. We intended to complete an ultra mountaineering link-up. I spent countless hours researching the terrain via satellite imagery and corresponding internet photos, messaging with Peruvian guides via social media, and reading obscure trip reports I'd found from buried corners of the internet. We planned to pre-stock four camps and make a three-week push, summiting eight mountains along the way. In addition to the mental and logistical prep, Mike and I followed a training program for the six months before our expedition.  

On June 18, we landed in Lima with a ridiculous amount of luggage. One bus ride later, we were in Huaraz packing the bags that would be used for our restocked camps. We hung out around the Andean Kingdom and the Casa de Guias to learn about recent mountain conditions. We soon met Manuel Bernuy Ponte, a young Peruvian guide and owner of Peruvian Climbs. He was our most helpful connection in Huaraz. Manuel made himself and his experience in the range incredibly accessible, giving us an accurate picture of what to expect in the stretches where our route departed from the usual trodden paths of the Blanca. He also helped us secure a driver, safely stash our gear in multiple locations, and find fair prices on bulk supplies we needed.

Chopicalqui

We prepared nonstop for two days, then launched into the range with a plan of acclimatizing and stashing resupplies. We were scouting terrain between Huascaran and Chopicalqui five days later when we decided to adjust plans. A snow bridge had collapsed on Huascaran, killing a guide in the process. The prospect of equipping a ladder crossing was on the table, but there was no telling if or when that would occur. Furthermore, our on-the-ground appraisal found that linking Huascaran and Chopicalqui would require traversing extremely dangerous and highly technical terrain. The conditions that would have allowed for a more reasonable attempt simply no longer exist due to the rapid melt-out in this range. Here, we conceded our first route change, deciding to drop the first leg of our ultraneering challenge and to ration our food to stay longer and make an attempt on Chopicalqui's summit while we were at the moraine camp. 

Nick posing for a sunset picture at Chopicalqui base camp. PC: Mike Buyaskas

Knowing how slowly we moved in our barely acclimatized state, we started from moraine camp at 10 p.m. We plugged along the most extensive glacier we had ever walked on all night until we found ourselves 400 feet short of the summit by sunrise. We had fought the effects of altitude for the entire push when they finally caught up to us in the form of a costly miscommunication, which ended in our rappelling. We broke down our camp that afternoon and hitchhiked back to town by night.  

Quitaraju and Alpamayo

Nick revelling in the sunset and stoke underneath Alpamayos West face. PC: Mike Buyaskas

After a day and a half of rest, we packed enough supplies for a week, intending to climb Quitaraju and Alpamayo. The climb from Moraine camp to the Alpamayo Quitaraju col was strenuous. We climbed two pitches of low-grade alpine ice with heavy packs, which made for a more challenging day than expected. Before we could drop our packs at Col camp that afternoon, a giant ice mushroom cleaved, sending an avalanche careening directly down the runnel that contained our intended climb. These factors combined to make Alpamayo loom in my heart the same way its western face would loom over our tent for the next few days. Unfortunately, the next morning, Mike woke up altitude sick, and we decided to rest instead of attempting Quitaraju. The day after, we climbed Alpamayo. The climbing in the upper runnel was fantastic, and it felt like the whole world rotated on the axis of single moments between swings and kicks. I topped out on the summit ridge, and due to time constraints, we rappelled from there, despite the ridgeline traverse posing no more difficult climbing. 

Rest days

The next day, we got into town, and the day after that, we went for a trail run to celebrate Mike's birthday and take a break from the expedition. We reveled in our further acclimatization and returned to the base of Huandoy and the Pisco refugio, where friends were looking after the bag filled with our first stocked camp. Our ultraneering traverse received the final nail in the coffin when we observed our route up Huandoy's East Face nearly melted out, exposing bands of heinous chossy mixed climbing that otherwise would have been ice and snow. Our route would be too dry when we were poised for a summit attempt. We had yet to make a true summit but now believed ourselves to be acclimatized, so we set our sights on doing Tocllarajus W Face Direct (D+) in a faster and lighter style. 

Tocllarajus

Nick roping up for the hike back from Tocullaraju high camp, The line Nick and Mike attempted on Tocullaraju's W face climbs the icey path directly through the rocky pinch high on the climber's right side of the face.

We approached the base camp in one speedy push the night we returned from our trail run. The next day, we reached glacier camp directly underneath the face. We watched our route for a day and planned a detour from the original line to thread a safer needle between seracs high on the face. We heard the route had just yielded its first successful summit days before, after turning around many this season. We started at midnight this time, and after delicately climbing the giant icey flower petals of the upper bergschrund, we suffered excruciatingly cold and exposed belays up the sheer ice face. About two pitches from the summit ridgeline, as the sun rose, Mike began to feel too altitude sick to continue. Using zero threads, we were able to bail down the face relatively quickly. 

Expedition Changes

Mike had to leave Peru early due to a personal situation developing at home, which greatly limited our options for the remainder of the trip. We now had ten more days, and due to Mike's altitude issues, we eventually settled on a smaller, more technical route. We decided to try what we thought may be an unclimbed line on the south face of Vallunaraju's south summit. It involved 300 feet of 70-80 degree mixed climbing, which gave way to 3-400 more feet of easier mixed terrain. 

Vallunaraju

Nick finding the start of the potential new line we attempted to climb on Vallanaraju Sur. PC: Mike Buyasakas

We attempted the peak in true alpine style, starting from the gate for the national park at the mouth of the approach canyon and going gate to gate. I led an awesome M4- pitch at the start of the technicalities on beautifully striated granite. Still, we again bailed due to dangerous deep-faceted snow lurking underneath trapdoors of semi-firm crust on the upper face. Over the summer, we found that the south-facing slopes were the most likely to have that terrifying, completely unstable Peruvian snow.  

Huamashraju

We had time for one more climb before Mike's departure, and we chose to switch things up and try the classic Sins-Hanning route on Huamashraju. It is a five-pitch 5.9 on a splitter granite wall that finishes up a moderate snow ridge to the summit. We approached in the evening and bivied in a boulder cave at the very base of the route. The rapidly melting glaciers in the Blanca have formed a small pool at the base of the wall, allowing us to advance past basecamp and skip out on melting snow. The following day, we led in blocks, with Mike tackling the delicate slabby corner crux of the lower wall while I got the pleasure of pulling a fantastic roof and bumping our only #4 up the back of the offwidth squeeze pitch. We started simuling when we got up high, and once atop the ridge, we found nothing but smooth low-angle granite for another three rope lengths. These 3 pitches are apparently a new development even compared to just two years ago when it was reported that snow was reached at the beginning of the ridge. We transitioned into our crampons and soloed to the summit. Unfortunately due to a crampon malfunction Mike decided to stay behind and set up our first rappel. The final snow ridge included a 100 foot long steep airy traverse across calf high penitiente.  The Penitiente gave way to a final rope length of easy mixed climbing requiring a couple of easy blocky mantles on rock.  At the top I admired Nevado Huantsan for a moment before turning around to start the descent: a snowy down-climb proceeded by 4 rope stretching double rope 70 meter rappels. One very long hike later, we were back at the trailhead around 11 p.m., where the onset of giardia rocked me the minute I sat down on the side of the road.

Leaving the Andes…

Our driver Freddy, a cousin of our host in Caraz. Freddy enjoys Mountain Biking through the canyons of the blanca, and his company was much appreciated during the few down days we had in Caraz. PC: A Passing Tourist

Mike left the next morning, and after five days of being sick in bed, I finally recovered. For my last adventure in the Andes, I took a long, all-day trail run up a lesser-known Quebrada. I had a hunch of where I might find water ice based on locations where I'd seen some ephemeral smears over the past two months. Right where I was expecting, I found an ice line that was even better than I could have imagined. This line of nearly 1000 ft of steep ice was the best-looking ice climb I'd seen in Peru. There is a small vanishing serac above it, and judging by pictures I found of the same face in 2013, the overhead danger will continue to decrease in the coming years. This experience had me leaving Peru with lots of stoke in my heart for the many lifetimes' worth of adventures to be had here on our planet. Overall, I learned a great deal on this trip. I now understand how to look at prominent, snowy peaks from a distance and estimate where the most sensible weakness may be and what the terrain will entail. I also got my first taste of leading out into entirely unknown terrain and am hooked. 

On the upper slopes of Chopicalqui, shedding layers before continuing the descent. That evening we would make it back to the canyon floor and haggle/hitchhike our way back to Caraz. PC: Mike Buyaskas

In terms of our ultraneering challenge, the goal is still accomplishable. I don't know if I will ever attempt it again. It required massive amounts of logistical challenges as well as blue-collar prep work. I underestimated just how demanding the conditions might be between 8 different mountains. Although all of the routes we intended to climb would go at some point during the season we spent there, being able to climb all of them safely in the same three-week window would be a rare occurrence. If one were to fly off the summits of these peaks using a wing, the ultraneering traverse would become much more feasible and enjoyable. Hopefully, one day, I will get the time and resources to begin learning the art of flying, but I must return to the ordinary world via the booter. Thank you, American Alpine Club, for helping me have a once-in-a-lifetime summer in the Andes. 

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This could be YOU! Apply for the Live Your Dream grant before it closes, on April 30. Don’t wait, your dream expedition is just an application away!

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The Art of Bailing

In this installment of our Grassroots series, we share the story of two AAC members pushing their personal limits. If you're an AAC member and want to see your climbing story featured, send an email with a brief description to smcgivney@americanalpineclub.org for a chance to share your story!

Camden Lyon walking along a large crevasse on Nevado Pisco. PC: AAC Member Torsten Lyon.

Grassroots: Unearthing the Future of Climbing

By: Sierra McGivney

Camden and Torsten Lyon were cold, so cold that cold didn’t feel cold anymore. Their fingers were frozen and ice covered their face as the sun rose. In the Peruvian morning, the two stood at camp having returned from attempting to summit Huascaran (22,205 ft) the highest mountain in Peru. 

“You could see the shadow of the curve of the earth projected into the stratosphere. I think we were both too miserable to enjoy it,” said Camden as he laughed.

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13-year-old Camden on Capitol Peak’s iconic knife edge. PC: AAC Member Torsten Lyon.

The first thing that you should know about Torsten and Camden is that Torsten is Camden's father. Camden has been backpacking and bagging fourteeners for as long as he can remember. At the age of four Torsten began involving Camden in the planning process. He showed Camden where they were on the map and where they needed to go. Even though Camden doesn’t remember those trips well, something stuck. 

“Growing up in Colorado, the mountains are as much a part of me as my hand or foot. Nowhere, not even in my own living room, am I more at home than the side of a cliff, a windswept summit, or a towering glacier,” said Camden. 

13-year-old Camden ascending the Peakrly Gates on Mt. Hood. PC: AAC Member Torsten Lyon.

So it was not all too surprising when an 11-year-old Camden approached Torsten about a trip to the Cordillera Blanca. He put together a list of skills he had and skills he needed, and a multi-year plan to acquire the skills needed to climb peaks in the Cordillera Blanca. Torsten said yes—and the two set out on a multi-year plan. They climbed Mount Hood, multiple snow climbs in the North Cascades and Colorado (Grizzly couloir), the Exum Ridge on Grand Teton, and the Kautz Glacier on Mount Rainer. COVID-19 slowed them down but also allowed them time to acquire more skills and experience. The two were set to head to Peru in the summer of 2022 until Torsten fell skiing and tore his meniscus. 

That didn’t stop them. They had set a goal and were willing to work around the obstacles in their way. Torsten had knee surgery and three weeks later he was back training for their trip and hiked Square Top Mountain all with the approval of his doctor. They decided to push their trip back a couple of weeks and acclimatize in Colorado. 

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PERU

One flight from Denver to Lima, Peru, and a nine-hour bus ride later, Camden and Torsten arrived at their hotel in the town of Huaraz. Donned in pounds of gear and giddy nervous excitement, the two awaited their guide, Edgar. They had been communicating with each other via email and google translate. 

Nevado Chopicalqui and the peaks of Nevado Huacaran tower above the Refugio Pisco. PC: AAC Member Torsten Lyon.

“So he does show up, which we didn’t know if he would,” said Torsten.

Edgar suggested that they try to climb Pisco (18,871ft) since it’s a relatively easy mountain and the dry season started late that year. Torsten and Camden planned to climb Pisco without Edgar and meet back up with him the following Wednesday on a certain switchback. By 5 am on Monday, the two were off to start their grand Cordillera Blanca adventure.  

Pisco set the precedent for how climbing in Peru would go. Based on guidebooks written 20 or 30 years ago, Pisco was supposed to be 45 degrees or less with minimal crevasse danger. When Torsten and Camden set crampons on the snow Monday morning they found 50-degree angle snow climbing and big crevasses. The glacier along the ridge was fractured off both sides. The silence and wind whipped past them as they soloed up the mountain. Sixty feet below the summit they stopped and turned around. They just didn’t have the right gear for the unexpected conditions. 

Descending from the summit ridge of Nevado Yanapaccha with Nevado Chacraraju in the distance. PC: AAC Member Torsten Lyon.

“For the third day [there]... on a mountain 5,000 feet higher than I’ve ever been, I was alright with it,” says Camden.

 At a junction in the road, Torsten and Camden met with Edgar that Wednesday. As they traveled to the other side of the valley to climb Yanapaccha they conducted a dual interview. Both parties seemed happy with the outcome. Edgar was stoked that the two were competent climbers.

Yanapaccha, their next objective, has a standard route and a harder route. Unfortunately, the glacier on the mountain has receded significantly in the last 20 or 30 years and left giant seracs above the standard route. Edgar suggested they veer away from the cornice and climb the harder line. Three pitches of hard alpine climbing later, they stood on the summit. 

Back in town, Edgar informed them that someone had successfully climbed Huascaran that year. The thing about Huascaran is that it’s a relatively easy mountain with a lot of high objective danger.

“It’s a roll of the dice,” said Torsten. 

Nevado Chopicalqui (20,847), Huascaran Sur (22,205), and Huascaran Norte (21,865) in the morning alpenglow, taken from the west face of Nevado Yanapaccha (17,913).

Avalanches and serac falls are common. So, over a meal, Torsten and Camden discussed the climb. They researched and read about past events and the frequency of avalanches and ice falls during that time of the season. The two generally prefer harder terrain with less objective hazard. This was the opposite. 

“I know for me, being a climber, and also a parent, I wanted to just take a little time to like, [discuss] do you want to do this or not?” said Torsten. 

They decided to go for it. At base camp, they waited in the cold for Edgar to get ready. Unfortunately with the language barrier, they had gotten ready and taken down camp before Edgar woke up. They watched as two climbers from Boulder, Colorado, passed them. 

Crossing through the dangerous terrain below active seracs. PC: AAC Member Torsten Lyon.

Toes frozen in their boots they began the long walk upwards. As they climbed through the snow-filled basin after the first pitch of climbing, avalanche debris came into view. The two climbers from Boulder had been swept 300 feet on the second pitch and rode the avalanche until they stopped right before the pour-over. 

“I had no idea what was happening. I thought I was going to die. It wasn’t funny,” said one of the Boulder climbers to the trio. 

Suddenly the air was eery. Below the summit, Torsten started to develop altitude sickness and the team decided to turn around. They slept a couple of hours and then descended back down to 15,000 feet past camp one. Neither Torsten nor Camden was upset about not summiting. 

“We were really happy to be safely off the mountain and I think we both cared a lot less about having missed the summit,” said Camden. 

They passed a group of climbers from Poland headed up Hauscran as they made their way back down to Huaraz. Between camps one and two, serac falls hit the climbers from Poland. luckily they all lived. 

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ISHINCA VALLEY

In nine days' time, Torsten and Camden planned to climb four big mountains: Nevado Ishinca (18,143ft), Urus (17,792ft), Ranrapalca (20,217ft), and Tocllaraju (19,797ft). At this point, Torsten and Camden were confident that they could climb certain mountains and get to high camps without Edgar. 

Camden belaying one of the final pitches on Nevado Ranrapalca. PC: AAC Member Torsten Lyon.

“It’s more like our guide was a paid climbing partner that carried the extra rope and climbed all of the hard pitches,” said Camden. 

The two climbed Urus and Nevado Ishinca with no problem. Ranrapalca proved to be a “wicked hard mountain.”

Five pitches of AI3 and M3 climbing in the dark and two pitches watching the sunrise led to a lovely summit. It proved to be a challenge as the two had little to no experience in mixed or technical ice climbing and the climbing was steep. 

“If you look at a constant angle up, you can't see the stars because it gets so steep. It was just really intimidating,” said Camden.

Once down from the summit Camden and Torsten checked their Inreach to find that bad weather was approaching. They stashed gear and took a rest day and then it became a mad dash to climb Tocllaraju before bad weather moved in. 

Taken on the descent from their hardest summit, Nevado Ranrapalca.

They climbed the standard route which ends 400 feet below the summit. A giant snow mushroom formed by the wind blocks the route to the summit. Camden asked his dad to put him on belay and traversed out to see if there was a route around. He saw a clear path but it was late in the afternoon and they were the only ones on the mountain. Torsten belayed him back in and they descended. 

“There were some great decisions in not going for those summits,” said Torsten. 

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COLORADO

Exploring the ridge above Ranrapalca high camp with Nevado Tocllaraju in the background. PC: AAC Member Torsten Lyon.

The two made it safely back to Colorado narrowly missing the political unrest in Peru. Upon returning from Peru the two explored the American Alpine Club Library located in Golden, CO. They got lost in guidebooks written 30-50 years ago about the Cordillera Blanca— comparing conditions, climbs, and peaks to their experience. 

The trip was a culmination of their climbing skills that they worked forward. They laid the foundation and built climbing and decision-making skills to minimize the risks in big mountain climbing. Now that they have a foundation of skills, they are prepared for new adventures in faraway places like the Canadian Rockies or the Alps, or in their backyard in the Colorado Rockies. You can find Camden studying maps and guidebooks for their next great adventure. 

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Despite the Obstacles: A Story from the Live Your Dream Grant

Adapted from the 2018 Live Your Dream Grant trip report by Bria Riggs.

Sometimes the dream is adventure. Sometimes the dream is discovery. For Bria Riggs, the Live Your Dream Grant allowed her to pursue both dreams simultaneously.

Bria’s funded trip brought her to the Cordillera Blanca region of Peru, where she spent almost eight weeks mountaineering and collecting scientific field data. Working with the American Climber Science Program, Bria ventured to six different valleys within the region and glimpsed countless beautiful peaks. She summited three major peaks (Villanaraju, Pisco, and Ishinca) and attempted two others. 

This expedition was focused on high mountain environmental science, in which her team combined mountaineering and science in order to investigate the impacts of climate change on the glaciers in the region. Specifically, Bria was studying and simulating the impacts of light absorbing particles on glacial melt. She would then go on to use this data in her senior thesis at Bates College.

As both a lover of the mountains and a scientist, Bria couldn’t have asked for a better research experience or introduction into expedition life. 

Over the course of the eight-week expedition, Bria’s team ran into minimal issues. Overall they had great weather conditions for climbing and were only snowed out of one peak (Maparaju). However, an ice bridge that connects to the summit pyramid of Chopicalqui kept them from attempting that peak, which would have been their highest peak of the expedition. To Bria, it felt ironic that climate change is what kept them from collecting their data on Chopicalqui and also kept some of their team from summiting Tocllaraju due to glacial recession and an increase in crevasse danger. 

Unfortunately, Bria  tore three ligaments in her ankle two weeks into the expedition on their first big climb up Andevite. However, Bria continued to climb as much as she could throughout the remaining six weeks but was unable to summit Urus Este and Yanapacha. While this was upsetting, her expedition was still wildly successful in her own eyes. Bria climbed to a new personal elevation record, collected great field data for her thesis, and fell in love with the people, culture, and landscapes of the Cordillera Blanca. The peaks that she was able to summit were incredible and absolutely humbling. 

Bria remembers coming over the crest to the summit of Villanaraju and being filled with joy and wonder. After weeks of frustration and pain from her injury, she had finally reached a summit and was so overwhelmed at that moment. Bria continued to have this same feeling with all of the team’s other summits, solidifying the fact that this is why she climbs and is fighting to save such beautiful places. 

Bria Reflected: “This expedition has had a tremendously positive impact on my climbing career. Not only did it allow me to climb bigger peaks than I ever have, but the experience also taught me a lot about expedition life. While it would have been great if everything had gone perfectly smoothly, in some ways, I am happy I had challenges and setbacks. I think my experiences showed me that in mountaineering, as in scientific research, there are always obstacles and despite these obstacles, I still loved being in the mountains and climbing for the full eight weeks. As a climber, this expedition opened up my eyes to the amazing life of climbing more than any of my previous experiences. Now, more than ever, I am excited to plan my next adventures and attempt to climb bigger and more technical peaks. 

“I have a lot of ski mountaineering experience, but my time in Peru has allowed me to further enhance my rope, crevasse rescue, and overall glacial travel skills. By solely mountaineering, this experience allowed me to focus on the ascent more than the descent as opposed to my previous skiing adventures. I am also more excited about climbing bigger peaks with technical routes.  This expedition was a perfect stepping stone for me to learn more skills and get ready to chase bigger climbs in bigger ranges.”

For Bria, chasing her dreams of discovery and adventure opened her up to the possibilities of future dreams. That is what the Live Your Dream Grant is all about. 

The Live Your Dream Grant is powered by The North Face.

Buried Treasure

An all-time base camp in the Khane Valley of Pakistan. Photo courtesy of Konstantin Markevich

A personal guide to less-visible highlights of the 2020 AAJ 

By Dougald MacDonald, Editor

The American Alpine Journal is a 368-page book, and there’s probably only one person who reads it cover to cover: me. As editor in chief, I see and read everything multiple times, and each year a few parts of the book are particularly memorable—because of the quality of the writing or photography, because of the thrill of opening a folder of photos from little-known mountains, or because of the detective work that may go into a single sentence. But even if you did read every page, you wouldn’t see it all, because we can’t fit everything into the book—some of the coolest elements of the AAJ reside exclusively online.

Here, I offer an insider’s look at eight gems buried within the pages of the 2020 edition or hosted only at the AAJ website. In this guide, I’ve purposely skipped over the featured articles in the book. So, this is not a “best of” or an editor’s choice. Consider it a treasure map.

This special feature is made possible by Hilleberg the Tentmaker, lead sponsor of the AAJ’s Cutting Edge Podcast. 

TANGRA TOWER, PAKISTAN

The Krasnoyarsk Route on the southeast face of Tangra Tower (5,820 meters). Photo by Konstantin Markevich

The AAJ’s 6-by-9-inch format does not handle panorama photos well, and the stunning photo at the very top of this page had to be cropped tightly for the book. At full width, it must be one of the most enticing photos for alpine rock climbers that we’ve ever published. The 2019 Russian expedition to the Khane Valley in the Karakoram climbed three peaks, including glorious Tangra Tower and the south summit of The Thumb (mislabeled as Trident in the photo above).

By the way, the first expedition to publish extensive photos of the Tagas Group, as this area is known, was a Bulgarian team in 2010. Their report and more photos were in AAJ 2011.

MT. BREITENBACH, IDAHO

One of the simple pleasures of my job is learning about unfamiliar mountains and ranges—even those within a few hundred miles of my home in Colorado. Marc Hanselman’s report about a new route up the north face of Mt. Breitenbach in Idaho’s Lost River Range, was one of these. I’d never even heard of Breitenbach, but for climbers who can nail the timing for good alpine conditions (this ascent was right after the summer solstice), the north face is an impressive target. Marc’s new route, climbed with Paddy McIlvoy, was possibly only the second line up this rugged face. All other known parties have climbed the original route, the Grand Chockstone Couloir, first done back in 1983. Talk about hidden gems!

Paddy McIlvoy on Cowboy Poetry (2,800’, IV 5.7 R AI2 50˚ snow) on the north face of Mt. Breitenbach (12,140’) in Idaho. Photo by Marc Hanselman

THE EIGER OF THE INYO, CALIFORNIA

Natalie Brechtel wondering what she got herself into as she completes the fifth pitch of the Northeast Buttress (1,300’, IV 5.9 R/X) of Pleasant Point. Photo by Richard Shore

AAJ colleagues know that I have an inordinate fondness for offbeat adventures (girdle traverses, kayak-and-climb extravaganzas, remote and arduous exploration, etc.). Climbing super-hard routes is impressive, but I also like to make space in the AAJ for creative climbing—even when the routes are highly unlikely to become classics. In AAJ 2020, a good example was Richard Shore’s exploration of “The Eiger of the Inyo,” the east face of Pleasant Point in the Inyo Mountains. Shore and Natalie Brechtel completed the first full route up the 1,000-foot wall of shattered limestone and dolomite. “[We] climbed what we deemed to be the ‘safest’ route on the far right side of the peak,” Shore wrote in his AAJ report. “Safe is a relative term on this cliff—torrents of climber-induced rockfall are inevitable, and the dolomite is so sharp that a fall by leader or follower seems likely to cut the rope. Steeper technical sections were interspersed with narrow alpine ridges, and most pitches took an hour or more to lead, due to navigational and protection difficulties in the choss. Soft-iron World War II Army surplus pitons proved to be most valuable—bolts were often worthless in the shattered mess, and hard steel pins would explode the rock into bits.” I can’t get enough of this stuff, and neither, apparently, can Richard Shore. He returned later the same year with Myles Moser for a harder, more direct line up the Inyo Mordwand.

JEBEL KHAZALI, JORDAN

Christian Ravier is a French guide who frequently works and climbs in Jordan (he also wrote the climbing guide to the Taghia Gorge in Morocco), and his report in AAJ 2020 brought us up to speed on some recent routes up the sandstone walls of Jebel Khazali in Wadi Rum. But it was his beautiful hand-crafted topos, complete with watercolor paintings (like this one of local guide and camp host Atayek Hamad), that really caught my eye. Christian’s unique topos weren’t suitable for our print edition, but three of these beautiful references can be seen with his report at the AAJ website. The rock looks pretty amazing, too!

LA GLORIA, MEXICO

We opened the Mexico section of AAJ 2020 with a scenic shot of La Gloria, a stunning mountaintop pyramid of limestone in the mountains west of El Salto in Nuevo León. As beautiful as Zach Clanton’s photo was, however, it didn’t convey the full allure of the climb: a 13-pitch 5.12 up the pillar splitting the south face. It’s an interesting lesson in the power of a route line drawn onto a photo—in this case, a photo that’s only available online. However you look at it, this is a fantastic piece of rock, which seems destined for popularity. Zach’s report at the AAJ website tells the full story of Rezando, the route he developed with Dave Henkel: “To me, the southern pillar of this peak was the Mexican Beckey-Chouinard, a line of perfect blue-orange limestone just begging to be the range’s first alpine sport climb.”

The south pillar of La Gloria (9,688 feet), showing the 1,500-foot route Rezando (13 pitches, 5.12). Photo by Zach Clanton

SIULÁ GRANDE, PERU

Luis Crispin leading out on the upper shoulder of the southeast ridge of rarely climbed Siulá Grande in Peru. Photo by Nate Heald

Nate Heald, a guide based in Cusco, Peru, has been a frequent contributor in recent years, climbing numerous new routes, mostly in the country’s southern ranges. In AAJ 2020, he reported on an ascent that was personally meaningful, in part because of the presence of his frequent partner Luis Crispin, who roped up with the teenage Thomas Schilter to become the first Peruvians to climb Siulá Grande in the Cordillera Huayhuash—and by a new route: Peruana Supreme (1,000m, TD AI4). In recent years, the AAJ has reported many new routes and first ascents of peaks by “local” climbers, throughout Latin America as well as in Pakistan, India, Nepal, and other mountainous countries. Many of these climbers work as guides but increasingly pursue their own ambitions in their local mountains.

Heald wrote in the Siulá Grande report: “I met Luis in 2011 on my way back to Cusco after a climb; he lives in a village at 4,300m below Ausangate and began assisting his uncle with tourist treks when he was 12 years old. He worked with me as I established my guiding agency, and since then we have done many climbs together. From my observations, Luis did not start climbing for any other reason than curiosity and camaraderie. He loves the natural world and has vast knowledge of it, and, at first, I think he just wanted to know what it would be like up there in the snow and ice. Luis and Thomas roped up together on Siulá Grande so no one could suggest they hadn’t made a purely Peruvian ascent of the peak.”

RAGGED RANGE, NORTHWEST TERRITORIES, CANADA

Amy Pagacz on top of a small peak in the Ragged Range after climbing Twisting Couloir (350m, AD). The high peak behind Pagacz is one of several mountains labeled Mt. Sidney Dobson on maps. This one is likely unclimbed. Photo by Wojtek Pagacz

Occasionally, AAJ editors get sucked down the rabbit hole of climbing archives. In AAJ 2020, we printed a short report about an interesting expedition to the Ragged Range in northwest Canada’s Logan Mountains—very few climbers have visited these mountains, which lie south of the popular Cirque of the Unclimbables, at the headwaters of the Fool’s River. The 2019 team climbed a few summits but couldn’t find a good approach to one of their biggest targets, which is labeled “Mt. Sidney Dobson” on many maps of the area. During the editing process, we realized that this Sidney Dobson had in fact been climbed way back in 1952 by an extraordinary expedition of Yale University students. The Yalies spent two and a half months in the area, built a log raft to cross a lake and access the mountains, and subsisted in part on game they shot and smoked, en route to summiting nine peaks, mostly first ascents. A great account of their trip is in the 1953 Canadian Alpine Journal.

Digging deeper, we realized that at least four different peaks in this cluster of mountains, all around 2,600m in elevation, have been called Sidney Dobson by various maps and publications. I spent hours attempting to determine which of the “Sidney Dobson” peaks might be the highest and whether it had been climbed, but the surveys are inadequate and the 2019 team couldn’t tell which was highest from their vantage points. Amy Pagacz’s expedition report and my attempt to unravel the Sidney Dobson mystery are both at the AAJ website. Unfortunately, the 2019 team found mostly poor rock on these impressive mountains and walls. But the first ascent of at least one Mt. Sidney Dobson may still be waiting.

MT. RORAIMA, GUYANA

Edward James lowers out on the Great Northern Prow of Mt. Roraima, watched by Troy Henry. The two men are from a nearby Akawaio community and had never worn a harness before the expedition. Photo by Matt “Pikey” Pycroft

Leo Houlding is a polished storyteller as well as a great climber, and his three-page story in AAJ 2020 about a new route on the northern prow of Mt. Roraima in Guyana is an excellent read. One of the highlights of this expedition was the role of Troy Edwards and Edward James, who live in the Akawaio village of Phillipai, the nearest settlement to the mountain. After guiding the British team to Roraima, the two accepted the Brits’ invitation to carry on up the wall, despite the fact that neither had ever climbed, jumared, or even worn a harness. In the end, they became the first people of Guyana to summit their country’s most famous mountain.

Sadly, we had to cut a full page and a photo from Leo’s story at the last minute, and three pages in the book didn’t come close to being enough for this tale. In fact, no article is as good as hearing Leo tell a story in person, so I highly recommend Chris Kalman’s interview with Leo for episode 27 of the AAJ’s Cutting Edge podcast. It’s great stuff.

The Cutting Edge and this AAJ year in review are both presented by Hilleberg the Tentmaker. Visit their website to learn more about their famous tents and order “The Tent Handbook,” Hilleberg’s uniquely informative catalog.