Snow Climbing to Lower Saddle

   Things have been busy here in Teton County. The summer season is beginning and work has been picking up for me. Earlier this week, I managed to find some time to go exploring. As mentioned in my previous post, I have been trying to get a feel for the local terrain by scouting out some of the Teton Range's more notable locales. This week, I made it up to the famous 'Lower Saddle,' a feature which stretches between the Grand and Middle Teton. From the top, one can look down into Idaho to the west, and Wyoming to the east.

map of upper Garnet Canyon, my route to Lower Saddle is marked in red

   Among mountaineers, the Grand Teton is world famous. Dozens of routes criss-cross its myriad craggy faces. Notable rock climbs and more than a few desperate ice climbs ascend the massif from top to bottom. My goal for the day was to get up before dawn, and scramble my way up into Garnet Canyon to glimpse the Tetons in their full glory. From Garnet Canyon, I planned to ascent to the Lower Saddle, the launching point for a number of Grand Teton climbs, including Lower Exum Ridge, and the Owen-Spaulding route. My logic was that making it to this launching pad would give me a good idea of what it would take to do these and other famous climbs when I would later decide to tackle them.

view of the Grand Teton from near Lupine Meadows

   The hike into Garnet Canyon was beautiful in the pre-dawn light. Morning was beginning to creep into Jackson Hole, and mist and fog drifted among the myriad of trees and lakes along the hike. My kit was, as usual, light and minimal. Although the hike began on dry terrain, I was sure to bring along snow climbing gear, including my trusty ice ax and crampons, as I was sure to encounter vast snowfield in the high alpine terrain. As I crept way way up steady switchbacks, the trail eventually straightened due west, higher into the canyon, and toward my objective.

   It is always pleasing to encounter other climbers in the high mountains. Upon entering the snowfields below the Middle Teton, I encountered a few older climber packing up their bivouac from the previous night. Travelling from Dayton Ohio, they had endeavored to camp in the cirque for the previous night. The weather was anything from perfect the day before, but they wanted to see what 'bad' was like in the high mountains. Their spirits were positive, and the day was fine for their hike out, despite them having to camp much lower in the mountains than they had planned and getting pummeled by winds.

   My path headed northwest from their snowy campsite, and proceeded straight up the first of two steep snow headwalls to my final objective. Upon reaching the steep slope, I encountered two more fellow climbers, struggling their way up the incline with heavy packs and ski poles. They were kind and made small chit-chat as my pace passed theirs. They were also headed to the saddle, but it would take them some time more with all their gear. I felt for their backs and knees, but had little time to stop. Daylight was beginning to melt the snow, and good cramponing conditions necessitate solid snow for safety.

ascending the first snow headwall

   After passing the first headwall, I stopped to munch a meal bar and drink some water. Before me to the north was the Grand's imposing granitic spires, and to the south, Middle Teton Glacier stretched steeply to a stretch of granite just below the mountain's eastern summit. The weather was clear and sunny, although clouds were condensing above upon the Lower Saddle and blowing down in my direction. The sun was taking its tole upon Middle Teton's eastern facing slopes. Ice from our cool weather was quickly melting and rocks could be heard raining down like blowing balls from above. I was careful to stay away from it's precipitous slopes...

the Grand, as seen from SE

MiddleTeton, seen from NE

final headwall up to Lower Saddle, between the Middle and Grand

   One final snowy slope lay between me and my objective. The snow was solid enough for the steep ascent, and with no sign of weather coming in, I was eager to plod my way up. Ice ax in hand, I bootpacked my way up with hardly a stop. For most folks, the altitude begins to get them here, but having grown up in Colorado, I have found that I can stomp to about 12,000 ft or so before I really start to feel it. Ahead up the bootpack, two other climbers were ascending the slope, their final objective perhaps only known to them.

   The terrain on the Lower Saddle was rough, but there were signs of tundra life below the snow and ice. A sign could be seen instructing climbers to only camp in designated spots, so as to preserve this scant plant life. A large tent was also present upon the saddle, no doubt used as a way station for rescue teams or rangers who frequent the area in the summer season. For now, it was padlocked shut. Clouds continued to blow in from Idaho, as I gazed far below to those famous potato fields, obscuring the higher heights of the Grand from view. Wind howling, I snapped a few recon photos and prepared myself for my glissade down from the saddle. The snow was warming and if I wanted to make it down safely, I would have to do it quick. This area was famous for its wet slide avalanches in spring after a good snow.

ethereal view from Lower Saddle

me at the top, with trusty ice ax in hand!

   My crampons were stuffed back into my pack, and I donned my good alpine pants for the sledding down. The slope was precipitous and made for good sliding, although I found myself wishing I had brought a space blanket to make the going quicker. Having enjoyed my time in the canyon, I enjoyed the walk out and back down the canyon. I encountered a few other hikers far below on the snowfields and told them of the snow and sun above. Winter was still clinging in the high alpine for those eager to experience its good times before they melted away.

view of the grand, south face

   My trip was a success, and I snapped many good photos. These, combined with the experience, would provide me with good information for future ascents up the rock, snow or ice.

 More to follow....


   Champions of the Day - Honorable Mention

   Before sliding down to the lower snowfields, I heard to climbers shouting far above from within the Stettner's Coulior. These fellows were the champions of the day, ascending three or four pitches of steep, desperate water ice to gain the summit of the Grand. Here are some photos of these fellows to give you some scale. You can see how their route remains just barely out of the sun. Theirs truly was a race against time, as the condition of the mountain would deteriorate quickly once the sun hit. Keep on picking, noble climbers, and watch out for that rock fall!

ice climbers ascending Stettner's Couliour (i think?) they are marked with red circles
as you can see, the scale is quite large. click photo to zoom in