The Archangel — Foraker's North Ridge

Gerard A. Roach

AS we approached the pass, we instinctively speeded up. Soon we were running pell mell with giant strides across the scree until the entire peak came into view. It was fantastic. We were gazing up at the beautiful 11,000-foot-high north face of Mount Foraker. Right in the center of the face and rising directly from glacier to summit was the ridge we had come to climb. THERE IT WAS!!

Our approach to this pass was almost as much fun as the climb itself. No climbing party had approached this cirque in 41 years, since 1934 when Charles Houston and party made the first ascent of Mount Foraker. They rode horses out from Wonder Lake, packed loads up the Foraker Glacier under the north face and ascended the west ridge. At the beginning of 1975, Foraker had seen another six ascents, all by routes from the south or east and involving air support. The west and north flanks are well within McKinley National Park and regulations prohibiting the use of aircraft plus the distance from roadheads make access to these faces more difficult.

We hired Berle Mercer, an excellent horse packer, to pack our supplies and we hiked from Wonder Lake to the snout of the Foraker Glacier in three days. On the fourth day we went four miles along the east side of the Herron Glacier, then an additional three miles southeast into “Caribou Valley” (seen and named by the ’34 party). By using horses to this point, we cut the load-humping distance to half what it would have been from the snout of the Foraker Glacier. Our approach hike had covered 60 miles and we had crossed 16 major creeks and rivers.

Finally alone with our pile of gear, we contemplated our situation. For our gamble with the horses to work, we had to cross the 6300-foot pass connecting Caribou Valley with the upper Foraker Glacier. What if the pass wouldn’t go? We found the approach slopes to the pass beset by avalanches pouring in from both sides. This gave us pause until we spotted a set of wolf tracks across the debris and over the pass. This supplied the courage we needed and soon our pile of gear was on a beautiful meadow just above the Foraker Glacier.

Our “Wolf Pass” had worked and we felt rather smug as we sat on the tundra just three miles from the bottom of our north ridge. And what a ridge! It rose in one great unbroken sweep from the Foraker Glacier at 6300 feet to the 17,400-foot summit of Foraker with an average angle of 35°. We had studied Washburn’s aerial photo of this ridge long and hard, but the reality of sitting underneath it was overpowering.

We took advantage of a spell of good weather to push the route up 2000 feet to a tiny platform for Camp I. This was the most dangerous part of the climb. The first 1000 feet was exposed to séracs above and the debris that we climbed over gave mute testimony to what could happen. On the slope above we found a thin layer of snow over hard ice. This slope was ever changing and always in bad condition and we dubbed it the “Target.” Above the Target was a 30-foot rotten ice head- wall. While Dave was leading this pitch there was a sharp settling crack and we felt the whole wall move. We were in instant terror at this display of the mountain’s power. And so the pitch became known as the “Shock Wave Wall.”

Back in our Base Camp at the base of the route we felt rather sobered by this first day’s climbing. Doubt was there. Obviously, we would have to climb at night, but since the route basked in the sun from two A.M. to ten P.M. this would only be a partial solution. Before we could make another move however, we were battered by a violent storm. The wind sprang from nowhere and whisked three airing sleeping bags out across the glacier. We recovered them only after a mad “keystone-cops” chase of 600 yards! The storm came on in earnest and camped on the bare glacial ice, we were very vulnerable. Two of our three tents went down, and all six of us ended up shivering in the third, which only survived because it bent down like the proverbial reed before the wind. The storm blew itself out in 24 hours, but it took over two days to recover from it. We had soaked sleeping bags, and ripped tents to contend with, and this wretched camp soon became an energy sink. As fast as we would laboriously chop a tent platform out of the ice, it would melt out. During this period our resolve to climb this route strengthened and doubts vanished. Nothing could be worse than our energy sink Base Camp! We escaped up the mountain.

After a series of night maneuvers, we were safely established in Camp I above the danger zone. The climbing above Camp I was beautiful. A series of ridges, ramps and walls led up 1000 feet to the Apex, an important and spectacular point where the north ridge becomes well defined. Standing on the Apex, we had the feeling of being suspended from a skyhook. There were great voids on 3.9 sides! The only connection with reality and the rest of Mount Foraker was an incredibly sharp knife- edged ridge. It curved and danced away from us, climbing gently. Up to this point we had traded the lead like gentlemen, but now everybody wanted to be up there on the “Angel’s Way”. After complicated negotiations, Dave, Stu and Brad went up to do the honors. It turned out to be more hard work than glory.

We had been having good weather, and it was just plain hot. Our igloo at Camp I sagged and collapsed under the onslaught of the sun. We repaired it; it melted again; we gave up. Many nights were spent sleeping out, a practice followed even at High Camp.

The snow condition along the beautiful Angel’s Way was generally rotten. In the morning the sun would beat in on the left or east face and the steps on that side would shine blue from underneath. In the afternoon the other side would get the same treatment. We had to resort to more nighttime tactics before we were established safely in Camp II, nestled in a wide spot on the ridge just beyond the Angel’s Way. Each time we traversed the Angel’s Way was special. Its perfect form and spectacular setting more than compensated for the rotten snow.

Camp II was at 10,000 feet; and with most of the major difficulties below us, there was a growing feeling that we could dispatch the upper part of the peak in short order. But we had been having perfect weather —it couldn’t last. The barometer would drop more each day, and we resisted the temptation to bolt for the summit.

Above Camp II the ridge continued curving upwards—more steeply now. Higher still it became more of an edge than a ridge, and we had several hundred feet of bare ice to contend with. Above in a slight basin at 11,800 feet, we found good igloo snow. At last! We left the tents at Camp II and moved up to stay. After several hours of labor, we had a magnificent igloo. It was over 8 feet high, and all six of us could stand up and walk around in it together.

We had had 11 days of good weather since the Sink Camp storm, and we had climbed ourselves into a frazzle trying to keep up with it. Now poised in our igloo one day from the summit, the weather went out. This provided us with a much needed rest before our long push for the summit, still 5600 feet above us.

Two days later it looked as if it might clear. We started with the theory that if there was any chance, we should start and go until it became obvious we should turn around. We went up 1000 feet to the beginning of the broken rock band, and it was obvious we should turn around. It was not summit weather. Back in the igloo the barometer kept going down, and we wondered.

The next morning I rolled over in my sleeping bag and checked the barometer again. Down some more. It was now the lowest we had seen it on the trip. A shout filtered in from outside the igloo, “Hey, it’s clear!”

“Clear?”

“Clear!”

McKinley danced in the sun as we moved up through the rocks and onto the vast upper slopes of the mountain. Up, up and up for ten hours, and then we were capering on the flat summit of Foraker. We dashed from edge to edge, got the ropes all tangled up and overexposed several photos. We all congratulated Barb on being the first woman to climb Foraker and soaked up the incredible view.

Back in the igloo it snowed about three feet in the next two days. We finally made a break for it and found a lot of changes in the route below. Twenty-five hours later we sank into the tundra and flowers of glacier meadows tired and happy. As we slogged out in the rain, the memories were already playing in my mind. It had been fine.

Summary of Statistics:

Area: Alaska Range.

New Route: Mount Foraker, 17,400 feet, via the North Ridge; left Wonder Lake on June 15, 1975; reached the summit on July 14, 1975 (entire party).

Personnel: Gerard and Barbara Roach, Brad Johnson, David Wright, Stewart Krebs, Charles Campbell.