With its highly aesthetic 5.6 summit spire, Starlight Peak is often considered the sweetest summit in the High Sierra. Me, Rick Kent, Paul Allegretti and Brian from Big Pine would be climbing the peak via its Northwest Chute.
Hiking the beautiful Bishop Pass Trail from South Lake, we popped up to Bishop Pass and took a break at the lake below Mount Agassiz.
Passing through Dusy Basin, we marveled at a lake Rick and I had camped at earlier that spring. It was time to head up to tonight's camp at Thunderbolt Pass! A great place to bivy!
From our camp, we enjoyed dinner while studying the start of the next morning's route, which we'd approach via a short hike from the pass.
Rising early the next morning, we got into the Northwest Chute via a short class 4 headwall. From there, the class 3 & 4 scrambling up the chute was delightful, including a particularly sweet climb past a snowmelt waterfall. Absolutely wonderful soloing over typically good rock. But just above the initial headwall, Brian decided he wasn't comfortable on the terrain and elected to return to camp. The three of us continued up.
Soon, we reached the Starlight-North Palisade col. And from that exposed vantage point, we had a striking view down to the Palisade Glacier and the east side of the Sierra crest.
With a large gendarme blocking access directly onto the crest, we traversed counter-clockwise around on exposed ledges, then did a funky final move that put us on the crest just below the Milk Bottle, which is the nickname for the awesome summit spire.
While Paul was man enough to solo up the semi-exposed Milk Bottle, Rick and I took a belay. Great stuff, and what a summit!
Before heading down, Rick signed another one of my many bonus names on my behalf...this one, William Wonka. (Hey, I've always loved Charlie and the Chocolate Factory!)
Curiously enough, we downclimbed our route and returned to our camp at Thunderbolt Pass before Brian did?!?! He said he was fine, but moving slowly.
*Photos courtesy of Rick Kent
Starlight Peak (14,200 feet)
North Palisade (14,242 feet), via U-Notch Couloir and Chimney Variation
Where: Palisades, Sierra Nevada, California
When: June 2006
Partners: Rick Kent
Route: U-Notch Couloir & Chimney Variation (5.4 & Steep Snow)
Mileage/Gain: 18/6,200
On a beautiful June morning in 2006, Rick Kent and I load up our heavy packs and headed up the North Fork of Big Pine Creek for a go at North Palisade via its most classic route, the U-Notch Couloir (and Chimney Variation). We'd be doing the trip as an overnighter, as we also hoping to bag Polemonium Peak.
As I've always found the trail, its scenery is reasonable until you approach Second Lake. There, the high, craggy mountains explode out of the earth, wild flowers are in bloom beyond belief, and the lakes become more frequent and more beautiful.
Near Third Lake, we left the trail and worked over to Big Pine Creek. As one might imagine in early summer, we found it flowing hard. The crossing would be interesting, particularly considering our massive packs.
With a delicate crossing of the creek, we gained the large snowfield that would take us alongside Temple Crag and up to Gayley Camp at the edge of the Palisade Glacier.
After what seemed like a longer slog than it should have been, we eventually arrived in camp. There, we got a grand view of our objective. Our route, the U-Notch Couloir, was plainly visible to the left of the uber-impressive North Palisade.
Rising early the next morning in anticipation of a long day, we donned our snow gear and started across the glacier. With only very minor crevasses to step across, we soon reached the bergschrund at the toe of the U-Notch.
Working right toward a snowbridge that would give us access to the steep slopes of the couloir, I stepped into a hidden crevasse and plunged to my upper torso. Yikes! Even benign glaciers can sometimes hold hidden surprises!
Climbing out of the crack like a dope, we climbed across the steep snowbridge and gained the couloir. And with light beginning to show in the morning sky, we began to climb.
Reaching the top of the couloir without incident, we got our first look at the 5.4 chimney that would be the next part of our route. Looked pretty good, actually. Two pitches of easy technical rock that would yield to scrambling terrain all the way to the summit.
Pulling out the rope, Rick volunteered to lead. Sure thing. So I followed.
At the top of the second pitch, we ditched the rope and looked around to figure out the rest of the route. It appeared a bit of wandering over and around boulders and then a short traverse would be us in the bouldery and semi-convoluted terrain that comprised the highest rocks.
Dispatching that without trouble, Rick and I were delighted to find the final scramble amongst the summit routes to be rather interesting. Before long, we were on the summit of this classic and hard-earned Sierra Nevada peak!
Looking south to Polemonium Peak and Mount Sill, then north to Starlight Peak, its summit block ("the Milkbottle"), and over to Thunderbolt Peak's awesome summit block, one we'd scaled only the summer before, we were blown away by the ruggedness of the aesthetic topography.
In keeping with my long-standing tradition, I pulled out the summit register and signed the bogus name of Warren Buffett. Then after a lunch, it was time to move on...!
TOPO
*Photos courtesy of Rick Kent
Polemonium Peak (14,080 feet)
The views from the top of North Palisade were stunning. Frozen lakes, snow-covered peaks as far as the eyes could see. It was June 2006, and Rick Kent and I had enjoyed a fabulous climb up the U-Notch Couloir (with Chimney Variation) to reach the summit of this classic Sierra Nevada peak.
But my eyes were repeatedly drawn to the unassuming little peak just to the east. It was called Polemonium Peak, and at 14,080 feet above sea level, it was the last of the California 14ers I'd yet to do.
I asked to look at Rick's route description. Problem was, he hadn't remembered to bring one. And neither had I. So with our eyes we traced out a line up the short west face that looked like it might go.
Descending from the summit of North Palisade, Rick and I worked back to the top of the Chimney Variation (5.4) and prepared to rappel down the two pitches we'd only recently climbed.
Straightforward, and with good anchors already in place, we dropped back down to the top of the U-Notch.
Beginning with a short traverse around a corner, we started climbing up easy but sometimes steep, convoluted terrain on Polemonium's west face. Piecing it together, we thought three short pitches was the way to go.
We called it 5.6, and it eventually put us on the summit! And I was done with the pesky yet delightful list that is the California 14ers. I was elated!
Rather than retrace our steps down the U-Notch, a gesture that might have required quite a few rappels down the steep snow, we opted to traverse over to Mount Sill and then drop down to Gayley Camp via Glacier Notch.
I lowered my pack for the steep but easy downclimb from just below the summit. From there, we rappelled down a chute then traversed left to climb up another chute to gentle terrain near the top of the Polemonium Glacier.
Working through heavy snow, we passed antlers and the other curious remains of a deer around the 14,000 foot level on the ridge between Polemonium and Sill.
Reaching the top of the snowy, class 4 headway below Mount Sill's standard route, we set up a rappel that would deliver us to scrambling terrain near the Mount Sill-Apex Peak saddle.
Once at the saddle, I knew from a prior visit to the spot that the return to camp would be easy.
A simple romp down the L-snowfield would take us to Glacier Notch, where class 3 scrambling would bring us to the Palisade Glacier. Gayley Camp is at the edge of the small glacier.
Plunge-stepping and glissading for short periods on the way down the L-snowfield, Rick and I triggered a small avalanche that we were able to ride down to the mellow terrain below Mount Gayley. Woohoo! Now, just a walk to camp, the snow having done a bit of the work for us!
Back in camp, I slept for a comfortable 12 hours, while Rick, deciding he'd head home, hiked out in the evening. Feeling great in the morning, I hiked out alone, admiring the substantial scenery that is the North Fork of Big Pine Creek.
Oddly enough, at the time, I was on some weird medicine for Lyme disease. Some tick found my mom while she and I had hiked in the mountains of Connecticut the weekend before. She'd suggested I be proactive and get on some meds for the disease, just in case.
Well, the medication I'd consumed reacted to the brilliant sun on snow on the glacier and gave me a horrible, burning rash on the backs of my hands. I suppose I should have heeded the doctor's advice to stay out of the sun.
"But Doc, I'm headed to the Palisades..."
*Photos courtesy of Rick Kent
Middle Palisade (14,012 feet)
In July 2004, I had an adventure of the most frightening variety. Me, John Hayes and another John from Vegas, a man with whom I'd done a handful of class 3 scrambling routes already, set out to do an overnight climb of the classic northeast face of Middle Palisade. The route was said to be one of the finest class 3 routes in the Sierra Nevada, a route that "defines 3rd class."
Hiking into Finger Lake via the South Fork of Big Pine Creek one afternoon, we set camp, ate some food, pumped some water, and sucked in the views around us. Giant Middle Palisade towered above, beckoning us to come closer.
Rising early the next morning, we left camp and crossed the moraine that would lead us to the scrawny Middle Palisade Glacier. A quick crossing of a moat at the edge of the glacier put us at the base of the mountain's northeast face.
From there, we headed up. The going was steep but easy. The class 3 was just what 3rd class is supposed to be. 
Before long, the three of us found ourselves on the tiny summit, a quality vantage point from which to view the long and narrow spine that is the Palisades.
Descending, John Hayes and I made awesome time back down to the glacier. Crossing the easy glacier, we gained the moraine and looked back for the other John. He was still halfway up the face, though making progress. We picked a couple of boulders to sit on and waited until he'd made it down to the glacier. All's well, so we moved on...
When Hayes and I had returned to camp, we had a bite to eat and began collecting our things while we waited for John, who'd continued making slow progress but assured us he was fine.
Several hours later, John had still not returned to camp. We climbed up onto nearby boulders and yelled for him...no response. We discussed going to look for him. But where to start? The route to and across the moraine was somewhat convoluted, with plenty of spots where he might had tripped, bumped his head and lost consciousness...places we might walk right past without seeing him lying there between huge boulders. So we continued yelling until our voices were hoarse.
More hours passed, and still no John. We made the decision to hike out and call for help. As sickening as it felt, we left, hiked out and called SAR. They wouldn’t respond right then, and so we left John for dead...left him for dead.
Midway through the next morning, I received a phone call from the Inyo County Sheriff's Office. John was okay. He'd returned to the trailhead some seven hours after us, tired and a bit confused, but coherent enough to find a place amongst the brush to bed down for a cold night without a bag.
I drove back to get John. He was fine, he said. Not particularly tired, but enjoying the photography.
*Photos courtesy of Rick Kent
Mount Sill (14,153 feet)
In September 2005, Rick Kent and I, joined by Paul from California, hiked up the north fork of Big Pine Creek for an overnight attempt at Mount Sill and Polemonium Peak.
Eventually reaching Gayley Camp via the long snow chute adjacent to Temple Crag, we set camp and settled in for what we be a long and uncomfortable night...afterall, I'd blown off a tent, a sleeping pad, everything for a good night's camp, except of course, my sleeping bag. Still, sleeping directly on raw, cold rock at 12,000 feet can be miserably cold.
Rising early the next morning, we got off-route on the way to Glacier Notch, finding ourselves climbing class 4-5 rock in the pre-dawn gloom. Eventually working our way out of the difficulties and to the correct notch below Mount Sill, the sun rose and we found the going enjoyable.
Encountering snow and ice on the class 3 & 4 face directly below the peak and adjacent to the classic Swiss Arete, we were careful as we climbed upward, soon gaining easier terrain that gave us views to Polemonium Peak and the Polemonium Glacier.
The final class 3 scramble to the summit was enjoyable, but then I was struck by strong, icy cold winds. Having enjoyed many warm days in the Sierra all summer, I hadn't come prepared for the bitter cold that was suddenly engaging itself with this high mountain.
Quickly posing for a picture or two on top, I told Rick and Paul that I was too cold to head over to Polemonium. It would have to wait for another day.
Returning to the top of the class 4 crux of the route, I rappelled through the snow and ice to safer ground, then left the rope for them to use, as they still intending to hit up Polemonium Peak. Farewell, boys!
*Photos courtesy of Rick Kent
Split Mountain (14,058 feet)
Originally known as South Palisade, Split Mountain is now officially named as such for the prominent gash that can be seen just below the mountaintop from many miles away. 
On July 31, 2005, Paul Allegretti, Susan Malcher and I set out from the Red Lake Trailhead for a dayhike of this big peak. It has a reputation for being technically easy but physically exhausting.
Making reasonable time in the dark after we started, we approached the curious riparian area (jungly, really) that is found along the trail not far below Red Lake. Weird, flowing water and thick, lush vegetation in a portion of the trail that is still somewhat in the midst of high desert.
Reaching Red Lake, Paul and I picked up the speed as Susan began to slow. Continuing our slog up talus and a bit of snow, we eventually gained the gentle north ridge of the peak and glided up to the summit...just as the clouds rolled in. No views!
With Susan nowhere in sight, Paul and I soon headed down. Assuming she'd simply turned around at some point, we found we were correct when we returned to the vehicle 15 hours after starting out and found Susan there waiting for us. I'm glad she was okay, just tired and roughed up from what was far from an easy dayhike.
*Photos courtesy of Rick Kent
