Forbidden Peak, West Ridge, WA. (8815′)
Why the best water and climbs in the world are respectively, free and freed?
Boston Basin is by all means an opportune place to become thirsty. Utopia drops beauty on you incessantly, in three dee. It is so beautiful, it hurts. The granite’s hues are an explosion of orange, but up high, a brilliant white! The rock is sound. THE ROCK IS SOUND! Fat marmots, unabashedly eat my food and leave their mini-dog-sized stools strewn across the same place I’m about to thrown down. I could spend days here, the peaks around all have their unique appeal none very intimidating, save the foreboding, looming J-burg down the way. Popping out of the trees, the sublime high country, is reminiscent of the Wind’s, Cirque of the Towers, not in granitic formations nor the sheer expansiveness of climbing, but as places that are genuinely worthy of being called, in Eden-like fashion, Paradise. SO it was, fjording streams that careened like spokes on a wheel, chasing the Alpen Glow, and taming creation. We hopped from rock to rock, and listened to the buzz-buzz of friendly bees sipping nectar from alpine lilies. Passing climbers on the way, laying on their mats, soaking in the rays, reading a book. Not a iPad in sight, no wireless connection would suffice. Basic necessities, the simple life, a reminder to the soul to regain its life.
So, the clouds broke, but barely the next morn. Look a the views, the best ever, a proud moment for my reflex lens. One only dreams of clouds that come to play, that aren’t invasive, that have a friendly comportment. Chomp chomp chomp, up the couloir, thin snow bridges that will hold for no more than a week, maybe two. Up to the summit, no hassles here, a cam here, a cam there. The best climbs in the world are freed, no rambunctious aid to gum up fluid movement. Lay on the summit for quick nap, slowly savoring each bite of our confectionary. One of the girls, Lea, her first climb in the alpine, not bad wouldn’t you say? Ran into two other parties on the route, one going up one going down. Not withstanding its iconic status, blessed for the most part to be a solitary experience.
We’re off to the races, but to Canada in that day. But not before filling up parched tongues with recent glacial melt. Lay on those granite slabs, and lapped up like dogs, perfect, pristine, clean tasting, fresh, water. No shameful shams called house hold water filters required. Seeing, experiencing sustenance from the source, while the rest of your body is warmed by healing hot rocks is why everyone needs a trip to the alpine. It is also why the best water is free.
50 Classic #12!!!!!! The easiest one of them yet!