Squamish Chief, via “Angel’s Crest”. Hank Mather, Les MacDonald and I made the third major and complete route on the Squamish Chief in a two-day push in June. The “Angel’s Crest”, as we called this major buttress on the north face, involves some 1200 feet of technical rock climbing. In two days in 1959 Don Claunch, Frank Tarver and I climbed to within 350 feet of the summit rim, but we did not find time to return until 1962. The key to the climb is a rotten chimney that leaves the deep couloir on the left side of the crest and takes one to the base of a very steep and exposed 150-foot step. This is a difficult pitch of mixed aid and free climbing. A second step crosses into a shallow groove with poor piton protection. With every climber passing, there are fewer twigs and moss tufts to hang onto. One then clambers through a scrub-fir jungle that leads to some wild gendarmes on the crest. A roped forest traverse brings one to two leads of 75° slab, all free but continually difficult climbing, some with minimal footholds. There a two-foot ledge provided an excellent bivouac spot; we found enough brush to build a small fire and spent a comfortable night in down jackets. Before retiring, we had climbed a difficult jam-crack, and at dawn had a rope to prusik up. Higher a gable of pure slab brought us against the final 200-foot vertical thrust. The exposure was magnificent here. Because the only crack systems were far apart, and sometimes on opposite sides of the crest, we often had to traverse and zigzag in the three slow leads of this section. The first pitch went up an overhanging crack with insecure flakes, then up a mossy crack that took pitons poorly and again worked right on an interesting traverse; most of it was direct aid. The next pitch looked ominous but, apart from two aid pitons at its beginning, zigzagged its way with some entertaining free climbing. We were trapped by a great flawless summit block here but luckily found a traverse around the nose to the left. Everything overhung to the rim above, now only 75 feet away. We could see only one way, a quarter-inch crack that took pitons beautifully, except for the last twelve feet, where the rock became rotten. Above this overhanging crack the climb was over, and we strolled across the domed summit toward the descent route.

Fred Beckey