Responsible & Prudent Behaviour (The North Face of Sky Pilot)

In late November 2024, Noah Macdonald and I were feeling somewhat mountain deprived. We concluded that the cure for this affliction was to go climb something. After some deliberation, Noah proposed we have a crack at the north face of Sky Pilot. Unbeknownst to us, this was to become a bit of a saga. It took three attempts over two months and some questionable responsible and prudent behaviour to get it in the end. In perfect conditions, the face goes at WI3 M2, but for our ascent we concluded that WI3 M3 R was fair. In addition to finding some great climbing, we learned that I am fine at skiing uphill, and abysmal at skiing downhill.

The north face of Sky Pilot with our route shown in red (Noah Macdonald)

Attempt 1, Nov 29th 2024:

We drove up to Squamish on Friday night, with the aim of starting early Saturday morning and being back by mid-afternoon. However, that would require plans to go smoothly (they didn’t). We encountered our first issue in my parent’s basement in Squamish. I had rented ski boots from the VOC for the approach, but I had planned on using a pair of Noah’s skis as they would be lighter than club ones. Problem was, we hadn’t fitted the boots to the bindings yet. Apparently, my rental boots were a little larger than Noah’s and the bindings were about 0.5 mm too small when maxed out. Oh well, I guess I’m skiing freeheel then. What could go wrong?

At 3:00 am, our alarms went off and we set off up the Shannon Creek FSR in Noah’s RAV4. We managed to park at the gate about 1.5 km from the gondola summit and began skinning straight from the car. Sadly, the gods of new ski boots were displeased, and about 5 km into the approach Noah’s heel imploded. Interestingly enough, the same thing had happened this summer when we had attempted the north face of Mt. Athabasca. So far Noah and I’s bail rate on north faces due to Noah’s heel implosion was 100%. So, we turned around and skied out, which was a somewhat invigorating experience without my heels attached to the skis.

At about 8:00 am we got back to the car and drove out in a subdued mood. Given that we had all our alpine climbing gear, we decided to head up north to do some roadside drytooling at Crack Scratch crag. Bashing my brand new ice tools into rock for their first use was mildly soul crushing, but it was a valuable learning experience, 5.3 rock isn’t necessarily 5.3 with crampons and tools.

Noah, Julian and I looking majestic on the approach during our second attempt (Evan Wong)

Attempt 2, Jan 18th 2025:

This time around, we recruited reinforcements. Julian Larsen and Evan Wong decided to join us for attempt 2. So again, on Friday evening, Evan, Noah and I hopped into Noah’s car and headed north to meet Julian, who was working in Squamish. This time, we came armed with a secret weapon – Julian had found some gummy bears for sale at the Squamish Nesters and had purchased 5 kg for $10. No way we bail now, right? This time my boots fit my skis, and we were all feeling good. Things were looking up.

At 3:00 am we woke up and headed out the door, and then immediately proceeded to get lost on the FSR that we had no problem with the first time. Sadly, there was more snow and ice this time and after some scary fishtailing on the way up we concluded we couldn’t make it to the gate. We parked on the side of the road about 2 km from the gondola summit and began skinning on some spectacularly slippery ice on the logging road. Once we reached the gondola summit, the road became a lovely groomed track, but that didn’t last forever. After the nice groomed road we encountered some “5.11 skinning”, to quote the Zenith Mountain Guides conditions newsletter. It turned out that none of us were 5.11 skinners, so we ended up kicking steps and slithering up some shockingly steep icy snow in the trees to get into the alpine. Once in the alpine, the skiing was straightforward, but reasonably steep. All told, it took about four hours from the car to make it to the bottom of a very intimidating looking face.

Noah and I approaching at sunrise on our second attempt (Evan Wong)

We transitioned from skiing to climbing gear, then Noah began to lead the first pitch. He stopped on a lower angle section about 25 m up and proceeded to build an anchor with 4 screws and both his ice tools. Apparently the “ice” was just alternating layers of snice, snow and ice. Great for secure climbing, less than great for protectable climbing. Unsure of whether to continue or not, Evan and I began cautiously questing up the pitch while Julian watched from the base being sensible. About halfway up the pitch I came to Noah’s fist screw; it wobbled in a very suspicious fashion. At this point Evan and I realized the truth of Noah’s earlier words; we would have to downclimb the pitch to bail, since the anchor wasn’t exactly high quality. Given this, and the fact that we were a group of 4, we made the responsible and prudent decision to bail for the second time. However, it wasn’t a total flop, as we encountered a wild inverted rainbow while downclimbing.

Me downclimbing below the inverted rainbow (Evan Wong)

After Noah, Evan and I had all cautiously downclimbed pitch one, we made the discovery that I cannot ski to save my life. Much to the others’ amusement, I employed the falling leaf technique on the chundery blue run down the moraine from the stadium glacier. Then it was time for the “5.11 skinning” section. About 30 minutes of extremely tense side slipping later, I made it to the bottom in one piece, minus some ego. The ski back to the top of the gondola was uneventful, but the ski from the gondola to the car wasn’t. Two-inch thick ice on road does not make for good skiing terrain. Julian and Noah managed to make it to the car, but Evan and I gave up and walked the last section (likely faster than Julian and Noah skied).

Next came the sketchiest part of the entire saga. Somehow Noah had managed to get his car up an extremely steep icy section of the FSR in the dark (without chains, too)! So we put the chains on and prayed we would make it out alive. Crawling down the ice was difficult; we kept slipping then regaining tread then slipping again, growing ever closer to a pile of unpleasantly sharp boulders at the bottom of the hill. Somehow, we made it to the bottom in a reasonably controlled manner and drove out, glad to be alive.

Attempt 3, Jan 28th & 29th 2025:

After two bails, and with a rapidly closing weather window, Noah and I were feeling a little bit concerned that Sky Pilot might have to wait until April or next season even. Given that we had two days of good weather left, and I had labs on both days, we began to despair. That is, until we reached the responsible and prudent conclusion to climb it overnight. I jokingly texted Noah saying that we could do it overnight on Tuesday and be back in Vancouver for my 1:00 pm lab on Wednesday. Unsure of whether I was joking, Noah’s immediate response was “I’m in.” Well, I guess we’re going then. So at 8:00 pm on Tuesday evening we drove up to Squamish for the third time and proceeded to miss the key turn on the FSR yet again. Shaking our heads and holding in laughter, we parked below the hill of terror from last time and began walking at 10:00 pm. The ski up was uneventful, other than constantly wondering what the hell we had gotten ourselves into and trying to think of a fitting title for this trip report.

Upon arrival at the bottom of the face, we promptly realized we could see nothing since we had chosen a night with no moon for our ascent. After several extremely grainy long exposure photos were taken, we located the base and switched from skis to crampons. Noah began leading the first pitch at about 1:30 am and was soon out of sight. Once 60 m of rope was out, he built an anchor and belayed me up. Excitingly, the ice was much better and this anchor was three bomber screws in solid ice, good stuff. We transferred gear and Noah, being the far stronger ice climber, led off again. Once this next pitch was complete, Noah spent a long time assembling an anchor at the top, mildly concerning. “You’re on belay, … Maybe don’t fall on this one” came Noah’s call. That’s encouraging. I set out on the pitch somewhat apprehensively but soon settled into the rhythm of relatively easy, but extremely careful climbing. It turned out the ice at the top of this pitch was a film of ice over snow, thickness unknown, but at least 13 cm. The anchor consisted of three dubious ice screws, Noah’s tools and the VOC spectre (that scary looking ice pick thing that hangs on the cabinets above the gear repair bench).

Left to right: Booting up the initial snow slopes; Our interesting anchor; Me following the second pitch (Noah Macdonald)

Pitch 3 was the crux, it started out with some steep snow overlayed by ice about 1 cm thick, unprotectable of course. Noah got two solid screws at the base of a rock step, then traversed for a while, then quested up a steep M3 step, without any protection worth mentioning. Following up this pitch was invigorating, given that our anchor was a “tree” (Noah’s words, read: frozen shrub) and the climbing was easy, but tenuous. After this my nerves were rather shot, and given that the next pitch was 60 m of 60° – 70° degree snow with a short ice step, the belay was rather unpleasant as Noah’s excavations created a constant stream of spindrift pouring down on me. Oh, and the anchor for this one was literally just Noah sitting in a hole between the snow and rock. Needless to say, I didn’t fall. The final technical pitch began with some more steep snow, followed by some 1 cm thick ice overlaying powder and then a final M2 step, which was highly enjoyable. As I was following this pitch we were treated to a magnificent sunrise, and my spirits improved drastically. From the top of this pitch we simulclimbed the remaining several hundred metres of steep snow to the summit ridge.

Left to right: Sunrise from the top of the fourth pitch; The final steep snow slopes; The summit ridge (Noah Macdonald)

Cresting onto the ridge was a phenomenal experience. Looking off the other side we could see an inversion over the Howe Sound and to the east, the sun was just peeking over Ledge Mountain. But given we wanted to descend the east face we decided to get a move on, before the snow softened too much. By the time we reached the summit, the east side was in full sun, which was not ideal. Given this, we elected to descend via the summer route on the west ridge. Aside from a couple easy rock/mixed steps, the descent was entirely on snow, which made the usual scree much more pleasant. That is, until we hit the stadium glacier and had to post-hole around the entire mountain to retrieve our skis.

After ski retrieval, we again realized that I am a poor skier, especially after climbing all night. The pre-descent caffeine pills were wearing off as I sideslipped and whimpered my way down the skin track. Thankfully, I had mastered the technique on our last attempt and this ski descent went much smoother. Once at the gondola, we indulged in some $16 poutine and answered questions about what we were doing with the scary looking sharp things on our backpacks. After a final icy ski down the road to the car, we gratefully took off our boots, almost 16 hours after leaving the evening before.

Left to right: Sky Pilot from the gondola; Victory Poutine (Noah Macdonald)

All told, the overnight hit and run strategy was certainly a responsible and prudent course of action. It allowed us to take full advantage of the weather window, although we took too long for me to attend my Wednesday lab. The highlight of the entire experience was certainly on the drive back to UBC. We were stopped at a light on Beach Ave, and google maps decided the fastest course of action was to get out of the car, walk across a park, get back into the car, and keep on driving. So keep that in mind, portaging is always an option if you don’t want to wait at a red light for 30 seconds after your adventures are complete.

Obviously the fastest way back to UBC (Noah Macdonald)