Another Northwest Climbing Tale of Mt Index From Ancient Times

Here’s a short article I wrote for the Northwest Climbing Journal two decades ago that didn‘t get included in the first edition with some of the other things I wrote. It’s for all you sad-sack Northwest climbers that thrash around in the slide alder and devil’s club. In the rain…

Land of Shadow

By Don Harder

 Sometimes it's difficult if not impossible to talk about things that happen in the mountains. Especially if you were the only person involved, if there was no one else witness to the events. It wasn't until 25 years later, while watching a movie in the theater, that the full impact of what happened on the North Peak of Index came home.

 I'm not sure whose idea it was, it might have been mine, but I wish they'd kept their fat mouth shut. I knew better then to go up on Mt Index. I'd heard nothing but harrowing stories about what a pile of choss it was and how epic the descent was. The former wasn't completely true, the latter was. In retrospect, I'm lucky that I didn't make the descent the fast way-the really fast way. 

 One July morning in 1973 found four of us, Don Brooks, Brent Hoffman, Tom Kuehn and myself heading up to Lake Serene with full packs to climb the North Peak of Index. We're talking full packs. We didn't know what we were going to encounter so we brought everything. Everything except enough water. We had pitons, hammers, ice axes, crampons, etc. Fortunately, though, we had these really crappy packs that were a test of fortitude in themselves. My Millet pack had a 1/2" belly strap and shoulder straps that were guaranteed to bruise. Nothing but the best for us. 

 Decades later, Jim Bridwell was at my house when he spied an almost perfectly preserved Millet pack acting as gear storage in my basement. He made some comment and I asked him if he wanted it. He said emphatically, yes. There's no accounting for taste. I gladly gave the hateful thing to him and have no idea what he used it for but I was better off without it. 

 We stopped at the lake for a few minutes to check out possible lines on the middle Norwegian Buttress. That was an adventure yet to come. It was early in the morning but it was already hot and of course we were overdressed. We herfed to the base and, before we knew it, we were on the route. The terrain turned from hiking to 4th class without warning. I don't remember if we roped up at this point, we probably just simul-soloed it. 

 The climbing wasn't that spectacular but the scenery and setting were. If you've never been up there, the North Peak of Index is a HUGE piece of rock. The regular route winds up the East and North side and the views down the valley are amazing. The Index Town Wall looks like a tiny little lump, which it is in perspective. 

 Brent brought this goofy little plastic tube, the kind you use for blowing out boltholes. His theory was that he could use it for sucking up small trickles of water in little seeps. We all laughed at him- at least till our water ran out. Then he was the hero of the day. We soon found ourselves crowding around him whenever a seam of water appeared, waiting our turn at the tube.   

 We were all jacked up and I must have been a little more so because slowly the others dropped away behind me. They were out of sight but I could hear their muted chatter way down below and to the side. I was in a world of my own. 

 Somewhere along the way, I got off route. It just sort of happened. I remember realizing that I wasn't following well-worn holds or footsteps. No big deal, it was still easy. A few hundred feet or so and I'd be back on route so I just kept climbing. 

 Now, along with full packs we were all wearing mountain boots. I had Galibier Super Guides which were great mountaineering boots but not so hot at any other type of climbing. For most of the North Peak, they were overkill. For the kind of climbing I was getting into, they were just kill. 

 I suddenly found myself doing some intense face climbing. It was vertical 5.8 or 5.9. It was steep enough that if I'd taken a rock and held it behind my back and dropped it, it would have fallen several hundred feet before hitting anything. My predicament was getting worse. I did some moves that I couldn't have comfortably downclimbed in mountain boots. Shit, now I was gripped. The others were so far away that I couldn't hear them by now. I was in the shadowed north side of the peak and no one was coming to my rescue. They probably had no idea where I was. 

 It was suck-it-up time. Looking up, it seemed like I had about 20' or so of hard climbing till it eased off. I took off. Suddenly, it was really hard. I was starting to lose it. Now I was really scared. I stopped to calm myself. It was do-or-die time now. I sat there for a few seconds trying to compose myself. There was a conversation going on in my head. I told myself that I could either shut the f*** up, climb, and get out of there or I could whine, fall, and die. My semi-smart half chose the former. I took a few deep breaths and started up. Almost immediately, the block that I had both hands on started to pull out. I was going over backwards. 

 Things got a little foggy at this point. I'm not exactly sure what I did. I remember feeling the sensation of falling over backwards and I stabbed out with both hands to grab at the wall. I must have held on but now my carefully constructed composure was gone. I leaned my forehead against the rock and whimpered. For the second time in a minute, I had the shut-up-and-climb or let-go-and-die conversation with myself. I breathed deeply and focused. The next 15' were a blur but I remember belly-flopping on to a ledge at the top, totally spent. 

 I lay there till I heard voices approaching. The route came within 50' or so from where I was. Somebody shouted over, asking what I was doing over there. I couldn't answer. I got up and traversed over to join the others. I had nothing to say. 

 The rest of the climb was semi-uneventful. We did a dry, uncomfortable bivy somewhere up high. That goofy little hose of Brent's saved us. Descending was a nightmare. I remember rapping off of clumps of bushes cinched together with webbing. I remember doing a single bolt rappel because the other bolt had been destroyed by rock fall and the one bolt we descended from had been damaged. There was no way to back it up. It's always a toss-up when you do a funky rappel like that. Do you go first or do you go last? I didn't have any lives left. I straddled the fence and went in the middle. 

 We stopped at the Royal Fork Buffet on Lake City Way on the way back into Seattle and stuffed ourselves beyond recognition. I'm surprised we didn't get kicked out-we were that bad.  We were obnoxious, smelled bad, and ate so much that even the blue-hairs watched us with envy. 

 Several decades later I was watching a movie about a child therapist that gets shot in the beginning of the movie. He's treating a young boy who sees dead people and the plot went on. He didn't realize till the end of the movie that the boy was the only one who could see him and could see him only because he himself was dead. He'd died in the beginning of the movie when he was shot and didn't know it. 

 I was thunderstruck. For years after this mis-adventure I often wondered if I'd really died up there on Mt Index and everything I was experiencing since then was a dream. I guess I won't know till the dream ends. 

Only real live humans post here so i think ur good dawg! ;)

great story thanks for sharing!

You should share this in the PNW section. I don't think most people know how harrowing Mt Index could be. 

I was thunderstruck. For years after this mis-adventure I often wondered if I'd really died up there on Mt Index and everything I was experiencing since then was a dream. I guess I won't know till the dream ends. 

Fantastic writing, Mr Harder. Thanks.

Every freaking time I hear about epics on Index, it makes my blood curdle a bit. Definitely makes be never want to be up there… Until I see it face to face again and it’s singing that siren song.

I drove into Index for the first time in years this past week and Mount Index came into view as the song, America by Simon and Garfunkle played. It's power drew me in and evoked that dream-like state I've experienced being in the presence of the likes of The Captain and Grand Teton. Fantastic story capturing what you felt up there. I would like to climb it someday.

Very gripping story, Mr. Harder.  Really well written and engaging.  Thanks for posting!!!

Great story Don,

I like how you describe the Index Town Wall as being minuscule in comparison, what a great analogy to the disparity between pure rock climbing and alpine climbing. It's not just about the size of the objectives; but the size of the risk.

Amazing story, thanks for sharing. I’ve stared up at Mt. Index hundreds of times, but never had the courage to venture up there.