Shuksan is one absolutely beautiful beast.

in mounting •  3 years ago 

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Why does a man Love one woman instead of another?

Why should one symphony go unnoticed, while another moves us to joy, or to tears?

Why, out of all the places in our world where the land rises and folds, should one particular mountain range call out to our heart?

The first time I laid eyes on the North Cascades was 7 years ago. I was standing on top of Columbia Crest at the summit of the mighty Rainier, and a friend touched my jacket to get my attention and pointed north. Though I was too out of breath to speak (it was the first time I'd ever been above 14,000 ft), my eyes must have gone the size of dinner plates looking out at that spectacular rising and cracking of the land, frozen, beautiful, pristine, and inviting.

At some point, I stumbled across the works and words of Fred Becky... and I learned names and places that seemed half real, half legend. Sahale. Forbidden Peak. Mt. Torment. The Torment-Forbidden Traverse. Sharkfin tower.

And Shuksan.

I'll let Fred describe her:

"Shuksan epit­o­mizes the jagged alpine peak like no oth­er mas­sif in the North Cascade... it has no equal in the range when one con­sid­ers the struc­tur­al beau­ty of its four major faces and five ridges and the vari­ety of routes they pro­vide."

7 years have passed... relationships, and children, and an illness, and a pandemic... and now I'm here.

The world today was fog, and rain, and deep green rolling countryside, and occasional glimpses of towering behemoths in the mist. I have a couple of days before I need to get serious about a climb (Mt. Baker), so I drove out to the trailhead, and headed for the Shuksan ridgeline, just to scout the landscape. It was mist and fog and rain nonstop, with the wind occasionally letting me catch a soda-straw view of the world I was moving through.

In much the way that John Muir pioneered routes through the Sierra, Fred Becky walked into these mountains and left his unmistakable imprint on their human history. On my way through the forest, with Shuksan playing hide and seek in the mist, I was amused to discover that the ghost of Fred Becky still lives here in these mountains. His ghost isn't present in some ethereal, ephemeral way, with a quick glimpse of his shade out of the corner of your eye.... he's here. He's always just a little bit up trail, always just a little ahead of you, just out of sight. You can all but hear him laughing at his own ribald jokes, you can practically hear the brief pause in his step as he scouts a route, or when he stops a moment to gaze at fortresses of ice and stone the way some people gaze at art. It's virtually impossible to put your boots on rock here without walking in his footsteps, and it's an honor to do so.

When I climb mountains, I typically keep someone in mind along with the lessons they taught me. I've quietly honored various people that way, all of them great in some way. There was Alex Lowe who taught us the joy of high, hard places.... Ray Genet, the man who never said "I quit"... Louis Zamperini, who taught us "If you can take it, you can make it"...

After some preliminary warm up climbing this week, next week I'll be making an attempt on Shuksan. I never do this ahead of time, but I want to tell you who I'll be dedicating this climb to, who I'll be holding close when things get challenging.

For my first time back alpine climbing after a 6 year hiatus, I dedicate this climb to Fred Becky, who showed us the way... and who in the darkest hour when everything was all but lost and the easiest route was to just close his eyes.... taught us to fight.

The photo was taken today while scouting and is of my first glimpse ever of Shuksan.

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