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Northeast Ridge Lone Pine Peak – July 1982

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Phil Warrender climbing the first of a series of towers on the Northeast Ridge of Lone Pine Peak. July 11, 1982.
Phil Warrender climbing the first of a series of towers on the Northeast Ridge of Lone Pine Peak. July 11, 1982.

WARNING: The North and Northeast Ridges of Lone Pine Peak are long, complex, alpine climbing routes. Many people climb them without issue, but some are forced to retreat, bivi, or have other difficulties. Some have problems finding the descent routes. Depending on your mountaineering and rock climbing skills, the weather, and your judgement, these climbs can be a fantastic experience or an epic nightmare.

The soaring knife-edge ridges and sweeping granite faces of Lone Pine Peak are compelling features that mountaineers and rock climbers find irresistible. The North Ridge — the right skyline of the peak when viewed from the Owens Valley — is the most popular climbing route on the mountain. It was first climbed in September 1952 by A. C. Lembeck and Ray W. Van Aken. In the 1954 edition of the Climber’s Guide to the High Sierra, it was described as a long class 5 route requiring six pitons.

What’s old is new again, and with the rapid evolution of climbing in the ’70s, the North Ridge was rediscovered. I think I first heard about an “amazing ridge” on Lone Pine Peak out at Stoney Point. There was a group of us that bouldered at Stoney on Tuesday and Thursday and then climbed at Tahquitz, Suicide or JT on weekends. Periodic multi-day trips to the Needles, Yosemite, Tuolumne, and the Sierra rounded out our climbing routine.

Phil Warrender and I, along with other climbing partners, climbed the North Ridge many times. We’d drive up from L.A. after work, sleep at Whitney Portal, and would climb the ridge the following day. I don’t think I climbed the North Ridge by the same route twice. That was part of its attraction.

Because we were familiar with the approach and descent, climbed the ridge without a rope, usually didn’t have route-finding issues, and ran down most of the Meysan Lakes Trail, we were able to do the North Ridge comfortably in a day. Starting at the Portal 6:00 a.m., we typically made it back in the mid to late afternoon.

You can’t climb the North Ridge or look at Lone Pine Peak from the Owens Valley, and not think about climbing the Northeast Ridge. To our climbing eyes, the Northeast Ridge looked like it was going to be more difficult than the North Ridge. The Northeast Ridge looked sharper and the towers more dramatic. And, it looked like the ridge ended at a headwall.

Whether it was the perceived difficulty and the strenuous approach — or just random chance — nearly 30 years after the first ascent of the North Ridge, there was no record of the Northeast Ridge having been climbed.

Phil and I did a lot of rock climbing and mountaineering in 1982. That June, along with Rich Grigsby, we climbed Whitney Portal Buttress. Lone Pine Peak was across the canyon, and I think that’s when we decided we had to get on the Northeast Ridge as soon as possible. We scouted the approach and waited for the snow higher on the ridge to melt.

A month later (July 10) we parked in the pinon pines and sagebrush at the end of an obscure dirt road at the base of the peak, pulled out our packs, put on some sunscreen, and set off to climb the Northeast Ridge.

To give ourselves the most daylight for dealing with possible problems on the technical part of the ridge, we decided to hike the non-technical section in the afternoon, then bivi and start climbing early the next morning. One downside of this decision was that it was July, and we did the hike during the hottest part of the day.

Phil Warrender on an easy, but exposed, ramp on the Northeast Ridge of Lone Pine Peak. July 1982.
Phil Warrender on an easy, but exposed, ramp on the Northeast Ridge of Lone Pine Peak. July 1982. Click for larger image.

To save weight we carried a minimum of “just in case” climbing gear. We took the good half of an 8 mm rope that had been damaged. We packed “swami belts” instead of climbing harnesses. The webbing was much lighter and more compact, and might come in handy if we had a problem. We took a few slings and maybe a nut or two. In a pinch we figured we could use natural protection or chock some appropriately shaped rocks. We hiked and climbed in approach shoes. Phil’s shoes were Nike Lava Domes. I don’t recall what shoes I used, but I do remember that the soles started to delaminate during the climb.

We each took a couple bottles of water. We thought there was a slight chance of finding an accessible patch of snow higher on the route, but that didn’t happen. There was a little snow in the gully between the Northeast and North Ridges.

We both carried (film) cameras. My camera (and maybe Phil’s) was a Pentax ME. At that time, I was shooting a lot of B/W film – rolling my own cartridges from a bulk roll of fine-grained 2415 Tech Pan film and developing it myself.

Serrated section of the Northeast Ridge of Lone Pine Peak. July 1982.
Serrated section of the Northeast Ridge of Lone Pine Peak. July 1982. Click for larger image.

Our bivi spot was just below where the interesting climbing began, at an elevation of about 9400′. It had a great view of Bastille Buttress. We didn’t have sleeping bags, but with the warm weather slept well and started climbing shortly after sunrise.

The climb could not have gone more smoothly. It was a granite playground of ramps, towers, and feldspar dikes and crystals. Everything that looked like it might be a problem had a solution. My notes regarding the route were pretty sparse:

“Ramp on right of first major tower. Followed a dike on another. Traverse on shattered ledge/weakness on final headwall.”

Phil Warrender climbs a feldspar dike on the Northeast Ridge of Lone Pine Peak. July 1982.
Phil Warrender climbs a feldspar dike on the Northeast Ridge of Lone Pine Peak. July 1982. Click for larger image.

We never used the rope or any of the climbing gear. There were a few bouldering-type moves, but overall the climbing was surprisingly straightforward. The rock quality was generally good. The granite is peppered with large feldspar phenocrysts. These can make great holds, but can also pop unexpectedly.

Judging from the sun’s angle and shadows, it was around noon when I took this last photo high on the ridge. That would have put us on top about 1:00 p.m. It may have been earlier. Low on water, we briefly visited Lone Pine Peak’s summit, and then hiked south to the usual descent chute on the west side of the peak.

Hurrying down the scree, we thirstily drank from the first little stream we encountered. After rinsing off the granite grime at a nearby tarn, we found the Meysan Lakes Trail, and headed back to the Portal.

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Strawberry Peak, Switzer’s and the Old Colby Trail

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Strawberry Peak and Colby Canyon
Strawberry Peak and Colby Canyon

The Colby Canyon Trail is one of the historic trails of the San Gabriel Mountains. When Switzer Camp was established in 1884, Colby Canyon was an irresistible gateway leading deeper into the wilderness. The compelling and sometimes snow-covered peak at its head was one of Switzer’s many attractions.

Jason and Owen Brown (1884). Photo: Los Angeles Public LIbrary
Jason and Owen Brown (1884). Photo: Los Angeles Public LIbrary

In the History of Pasadena Hiram A. Reid recounts the story of how the peak was named in 1886 “by some wags at Switzer’s camp” because of its resemblance to a strawberry. He goes on to describe how one of them irreverently added, “We called it Strawberry peak because there weren‘t any strawberries on it.”

While Strawberry may have been climbed previously, the establishment of Switzer’s made it possible to climb the peak recreationally. In Early Mountain Ascents in the San Gabriels (100 PEAKS Lookout, Jul-Aug 1971) John Robinson notes an 1887 ascent of Strawberry Peak by Owen and Jason Brown — sons of abolitionist John Brown. Robinson describes the “Brown Boys” as the first local “peak baggers.”

Colby Canyon and Arroyo Seco from high on Strawberry Peak.
Colby Canyon and Arroyo Seco from Strawberry Peak.

Climbing Strawberry via Colby Canyon has been a long-time favorite. Last Saturday I’d done Strawberry via Colby Canyon as part of loop — ascending the Colby Canyon Trail to Josephine Saddle, climbing over Strawberry Peak, running down to Red Box and then down the Gabrieleno Trail to Switzer’s. A 0.3 mile connection along Angeles Crest Highway completed the route.

Today I did a variation of the same loop, this time bypassing Josephine Saddle and following (more or less) the route of the old Colby Trail up the ridge at the head of Colby Canyon to Strawberry’s main west ridge.

Overview of the route of the old Colby Trail from Strawberry Peak
Overview of the route of the old Colby Trail

As shown on this USGS Tujunga topo map from 1900, a century ago the Colby Trail was much more direct. It linked Switzer’s Camp in upper Arroyo Seco to the Colby Ranch and other ranches and holdings in Big Tujunga Canyon. It was a much shorter alternative to the roundabout route that ascended to the head of Arroyo Seco (then Long Canyon), and then continued past present day Red Box to Barley Flats and down to Wickiup Canyon. More on the history of Colby Ranch and Big Tujunga Canyon can be found in the Winter 1938 edition of Trails Magazine (12.6 MB PDF).

Ridge that was the route of the old Colby Trail.
Ridge that was the route of the old Colby Trail.

A well-used game trail wanders up “Colby” ridge, but the path is far from ideal and not always distinct. Our four-legged friends don’t necessarily follow one path, especially where the route is steep and loose. Deer are well-suited to this kind of terrain, their long, skinny legs being perfect for following an overgrown path lined with thorny buck brush. In a couple of places there were short segments of trail that look like they might be remnants of the trail indicated on the 1900 topo.

Bear tracks on the west side of Strawberry Peak.
Bear tracks on the west side of Strawberry Peak.

It’s easy to understand why the old route on the ridge was abandoned; the route to Josephine Saddle is far better and MUCH faster!

These sections of the 1934 Mt. Lowe Quadrangle advance sheet and 1939 Mt. Lowe Quadrangle shows the dramatic changes in the area with the construction of Angeles Crest Highway (LRN 61) between La Canada and Colby Canyon. The 1934 sheet shows the reroute of the Colby Canyon Trail to Josephine Saddle and then contouring around Strawberry, as well as the trails along the west and east ridges of Strawberry and connecting from Lawlor Saddle to Colby Ranch. The updated 1939 sheet includes the Josephine Fire Lookout and the Josephine Fire Road.

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Split Rocks, Squeeze Chimneys and the Steck-Salathé

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Split Rock Stoney Point Poster

As long as we’re talking about split rocks, the poster above was based on a photo of mine from 1971 of “Split Rock” at Stoney Point, near Los Angeles. Rock climbers of my generation will recognize the Robbins’ “blue boots” that Tom is wearing.

This type of feature is called a “chimney” and the climbing technique being employed is called “chimneying.” Chimneys vary in width from a “squeeze” chimney, in which you can barely fit your body, to chimneys so wide it’s difficult to span their width. One side of Split Rock is average width and the other is a squeeze chimney.

Perhaps the most infamous chimney in the U.S. is the Narrows on the Steck-Salathé route on Sentinel Rock in Yosemite. The chimney abruptly changes from a comfortable width that is easily climbed to an impossibly narrow slot. It’s easy enough to get the top half of your body up into the slot, but the bottom half poses a significant dilemma. How do you make upward progress with your upper body wedged and your legs and feet dangling?

I think my upward progress into the slot might have been measured in millimeters per hour. At least it felt that way. It was so narrow that I could hold myself in place by taking a deep breath! Eventually I was able to get fully into the slot and then it was just a matter of being patient and threading my way through the remainder of the claustrophobic passage. (The photos of the Narrows in Climbing the Steck-Salathé by Guillaume Dargaud illustrate the situation well.)

From the top of the Narrows Ron and I still had a few more pitches to climb, and we topped out shortly before sunset. Around us the granite glowed in a rich golden light — the kind of light that seems only to be found on mountains, rivers and other places the sharp edge of adventure dwells.

The day had been long and challenging, but we were not done — we still had to get down. By the time we reached the upper section of the descent gully it was starting to get dark. There were still patches of snow in the gully and the temperature was dropping. Rather than risk a fall on frozen snow or meltwater, we opted to bivi.

Skies were clear and the night was going to be cold. We didn’t have much in the way of warm clothes, but we did have matches and started a small fire on the granite ledge that was going to be our lodging for the night. About the time we were settling in, two headlamps came bobbing down from the direction of Sentinel. The climbers had just come off the Chouinard-Herbert route and were more than happy to call it a day. We shared our meager resources, and with the fire we all had enough to get by.