Edmunds Headwall, Mt Rainier

Original trip report: https://engineeredforadventure.com/edmunds-headwall-mt-rainier/

Background

Some days in the mountains require 'everything in the toolbox'. This was one of them.

Mt. Rainier's westside holds a mysterious, intimidating lore amongst Washington skiers. It's remote, big, and gives you an 'out there' feeling. The ski lines off Liberty Cap are striking from afar, you can easily see them from Seattle.

The Edmunds Headwall is one such line dropping off Liberty Cap; from ~13,400' to ~9,900' it is plum, sustained, and steep. The line was first skied in 1997 by Armond DuBuque, Doug Ingersoll, Andrew McLean and Carl Skoog (per Alpenglow History) and has since seen fairly regular action every other year or so. Given its northwest position, it's often been skied in June or July, when it is hot enough to 'corn up' and has often been approached via the road to Mowich Lake.

The road to Mowich Lake was indefinitely closed this year due to a bridge being deemed unsafe. This made the westside of Rainier even less accessible. When the news first came out, I drew some lines on Caltopo seeing how reasonable it would be to approach/deproach the zone from Westside Road. It seemed reasonable, a semi-circumnavigation of sorts, but likely an overnight or multi-day mission. An idea to store away for an extended high pressure window, I guessed. . .

This spring in Washington has been particularly dry, devoid of wet storms that plaster the alpine with sticky spring snow. We finally got one in mid May, where over the course of a week over 2" of snow water equivalent (SWE) fell across Western Washington. It's always hard to know where snow will stick on the high mountains (Baker, Rainier); they are so prominent and see so much wind. Would this translate to feet of cold snow, of alpine pow? Hard to know. . . powder on Rainier has always seemed like a pipe dream.

Porter and I were psyched on getting out for a mission day together. It had been nearly a year since we'd gotten out in the mountains together for a serious day. We tossed around a few ideas early in the week, pinning down Saturday as our day to do something. We were eyeing high, north facing terrain where this new snow might have stuck. I had tossed out the idea of Mowich as a semi-ridiculous idea, kind of shooting it down since I didn't think we had enough time to approach.

I've always thought of the Mowich Lines (Mowich Face, Edmunds Headwall) as being done bottom-up, mostly because that's how nearly every trip report I've read has been done. I've gone over it in my head many a time: the firm frontpointing, the hours beneath seracs and objective hazard. . . it does give you a sense of conditions on the face, though. Beneath a thin seasonal snowpack, the northwest face of Liberty Cap is a sheet of glacial ice, so getting a sense of where snow is sticking can be pretty crucial.

What about top-down?, Porter suggested. I was disoriented, stumbling on a familiar concept presented in a new light. At first it seemed outrageous, the idea of coming down upon such an intimidating face with unknown conditions. But the more we discussed, the more it seemed to have its pros and cons.

Pro: less time in objective hazard.

Con: You'll have no idea what conditions will be like.

Such is the debate of big mountain skiing, I guess. There's no perfect way to do it, I'm learning. We talked through the plan, over and over. We'd take the easy, zombie walk up the DC, head over to Liberty Cap and see what stuff looked like. We'd bring two tools and equipment to bail, if need be. If conditions looked unsavory from the top, we'd make our way back to the well trodden paths of the south side. The Edmunds has a mellow bench atop it from which we could get a vantage, it seemed. From there, I had mapped out a way to traverse around the mountain via the Puyallup Glacier over to the South Puyallup Trail. We'd leave a car at Westside Road and shuttle up to Paradise.

I scoured Sentinel images over the course of the week, trying to eliminate the need for route finding as much as possible. I re-read trip reports, from Colin Haley's to Todd's to Ryan Lurie/Sky's to Tim's to Louie's. Would skiing the Edmunds Headwall, top-down, in a day via the southside be outrageous? I guess there was only one way to find out. . .

Trip Report

Going into the day, I had some angst that often comes with big missions. Re-running the scenarios through my head, playing forwards and backwards the sequences. . .trying to visualize and break down the day. Porter and I were on the same page, with a similar headspace for what the day might involve. We were okay with the snow being firm, we didn't have expectations of powder or corn. Getting on the same page with a familiar partner felt necessary for this kind of day.

We met up in Ashford Friday night and shuttled cars up Westside Road. We opted to sleep down low, away from the crowds up in the Paradise lot. We set our alarms for 335AM, agreeing on a rough timeline of 445a start, anticipating 7-8 hours up, and the rest from there.

Starting up in the morning, I had a weird brain fog that wasn't confidence inspiring. Things weren't firing on all cylinders. Maybe it was mainlining a Red Bull too quickly, I don't know. As I zombied up the Muir Snowfield I started to feel it dissipate. We shared some of the ascent with our buddies Stephen and Gian, who were headed up to ski the Kautz or the Finger. It was nice to share time with them and keep spirits light before business time.

We topped out in 7 mindless hours. On schedule, Level 1 complete. The winds were cranking near the top out of the west/southwest. We were finding soft snow above 10k' that felt promising for our plan but the winds were certainly a wrinkle. We knew that Sunday's forecast called for high winds and what appeared to be lenticular conditions.

Porter and I checked in with one another frequently throughout the climb, vibe checks. Snow seems good dude, we each pointed out. These winds though, hopefully not over on the line. We were on the same page that winds like these, probably gusting 30-40 mph, would be a no-go for the Edmunds.

We put on thick parkas for the final bump up to the summit and parted ways from Stephen and Gian. We wished them well, we'd see them in the parking lot when it was all said and done. From Columbia Crest, we clicked in and headed over to Liberty Cap. As expected, the snow was pretty heinous, with rime chickenheads and sastrugi. I caught a tip shushing over some sastrugi on the plateau between Columbia Crest and Liberty Cap and took a nice smack into the flat ground. Great confidence booster, Sam.

The climb up to Liberty Cap was a kick in the balls, to put it nicely. Winds pushed us sideways and we each independently had the same thought: ruh roh. We wanted to keep going until it didn't make sense but at the same time, the further we went, the more time we burned into the day, the more painful a bail would be. We held in our pocket the options to flip and walk back down the DC or ski the Finger; the gaze back at Columbia Crest, though, made those options seem pretty 'expensive'.

We were rewarded for our endurance: atop Liberty Cap the prevailing winds died or were blocked. Let's take a five-r and reset, dude. We needed a moment to reclaim our wits. With doses of fructose, maltodextrin, and enriched wheat flour, we were ready to go. We'd rehearsed this next part dozens of times: mellow ski down from Liberty Cap to the 'skier's summit' atop the Edmunds/Mowich Face, then peek time. The low angle slopes atop Rainier are almost always a mix of horrible snow, they just see so much damn wind. The ski down from Liberty Cap was reassuringly smooth, with pockets of rime for sure but not widespread. We peeked over at the top of Sunset Ampitheater on the way down. . . crazy.

We were here, atop the northwest face of Liberty Cap. Rolling over sharply, the 'shield' above the Edmunds and Mowich lay below us. From the trip reports I'd read, there were many different ways to enter the line. Sky and crew had taken a sneaker couloir off Sunset Ridge, Tim and crew had skied right off the top. Peering over, the snow surface seemed. . . okay. The roll-over at the top was steep but not infinite, you could get a vantage of the face reasonably well. Porter and I traversed over to skier's left to try and get a better view of the face and where the snow might be best.

To skier's left seemed to be pockets of grey ice, to skier's right seemed to be more planar and consistent. All parts seemed. . . firm. No alpine powder here, just something resembling chalk? That might be generous.

We talked it through, grabbed axes, and charted a path. I'd shush into the face, seeing what the snow surface was like. The biggest question mark was not if there was ice, but how far down it was. I pushed off, with axe in hand and poles in the other, ready to go find out.

I found firm snow varying from chalk to snice for the first 50 feet or so, then came upon a sheet of intermixed grey ice. Swinging into the slope with my axe, I got 'sticks', not exactly what you want for skiing. I could see that 25 feet or so ahead of me that the snow seemed more 'snice'-like than ice-like, but between me and there was questionable. I paused, not loving where I was. I find that when I'm in situations like this, where options aren't great, the best thing for me to do is slow down. Find a secure spot and just let my brain catch up to my senses.

Dude it's ice, I passed back to Porter. What do you think? Porter came a little ways towards me then found the ice I was observing. He was in a good spot to backtrack to better snow and sidesetup back up. I talked through options, helping my brain catch up. I could try and slowly skitter across the ice section and hope I don't wash out. . . not a good option. I could transition to crampons and climb up the 20 feet or so to the top. . . also not a great option. I could carefully sidestep / backtrack to where the snow was more consistent. . . I'll take it.

I was regretting still having my big parka on at this point. After a few minutes of precise maneuvering, Porter and I were both back atop the shield, a mere 'blip' on a map but a mile emotionally. Again, I needed to reset mentally. I'd taken a swing at leading into the line, and whiffed. It was time for me to lean into my partner now.

Back atop the face, we opted for the skier's right-hand entrace right off the top. It was steeper than over on skier's left but the snow was less grey-icy. Porter bravely led in, making the first turn that gave us everything we needed to know: it was going to 'go'. It's wild sometimes how one moment can be the turning point for an entire day. This was it, for us. After I'd tried to enter in, found grey ice, and cautiously backtracked, I'll admit I was in need of a confidence boost to reset. Watching Porter make that first turn on firm snice did it. I can do that, I told myself. I'll set my ego aside.

For the first 800' or so, the Edmunds Headwall and Mowich Face share the same line. Porter had led us in and I quickly followed, skiing very firm but edgeable snow. The position is truly wild: you can look down and see massive seracs, hanging. The scale doesn't quite compute.

At around 12,700' the Mowich and Edmunds diverge and we kept on the Edmunds; Mowich was never in the plans (I'd scope the cross-over on Sentinel and it didn't look passable without a rappel, hard to know). We continued down, trending skier's left following the line I'd drawn from satellite imagery. While the line may look traverse-y on a marked up photo, it's really quite fall line. We kept making calculated hop turns, letting our edges catch and keep us attached to the firm snow on the face.

My nerves settled out once we were in the meat of the line; after making turns, getting acquainted with how the slope felt and what each turn would feel like, I felt re-set. I was so very grateful to have Porter as a partner. We kept on down, leap-frogging. It's a long line, a lot of turns to make.

At around 10,500' or so I was pleasantly surprised as the turns began to soften. Dude, it's almost pseudo-corn! Most trip reports of the Edmunds talk of glorious steep corn turns, something we were certainly not experiencing for the first 2,000' or so. Now we were getting a taste. The final crux lay ahead of me, the schrund' exit to the glacier. I couldn't quite tell what it would be like but I radioed up to Porter that I'd go check it out. I skied down, able to see that there was going to be a hop. Pause, deep breath, then push, make sure to get speed. I tucked, cleared, and backslapped the landing. I was able to catch myself and ski out. From up top, Porter recounted how I just went out of sight and then ended up on my ass. Nice one Sam. Porter had a more gracious time clearing it.

Now, off the headwall, I took a moment to hug Porter. We fucking did it, dude. We were certainly not home free but we were off the headwall. Just as we were taking a moment to snap photos and soak in the face, a serac calved, running full-stop down between the Mowich Face and the Edmunds, erupting in a powder cloud. Humbling, fucking humbling. (For note, the Edmunds is not in the line of fire of said serac)

I texted loves ones on my inReach the 'we're okay' text and the exit began. I was pretty psyched on the exit, to be honest, exploring a 'new to me' side of the mountain. I knew that zombie mode would likely ensure, at some point. We skied pleasantly low angle corn down the Edmunds Glacier and we couldn't stop pausing every few minutes to take photos. The scenery was just too mind numbing. From giant seracs to huge faces, the west side of Rainier is truly a different scale than the south side.

We skied down to the South Mowich Glacier without much issue. We were on high alert for wet slides and carefully plotted ways down the slopes between the Edmunds and South Mowich. Coming into the day, we'd identified that the climb up the South Mowich Glacier to the Puyallup Glacier would be the most hazardous and 'cruxy' section of the exit. Perched above the South Mowich, we got a good vantage of the way through and it looked easily navagable; there were huge icefalls but ways around them. We'd stick to climber's left as much as possible.

Down on the South Mowich Glacier, we quickly transitioned and roped up for the 800' or so climb to the Puyallup. We got unsettling whumpfs on nearly flat glacier at times that made our stomachs sink. It didn't immediately come to mind, but it was the new-old snow interface settling out. Needless to say, whumfs are a viscerally scary feeling, even when you're on 15 degree slopes, especially when those 15 degree slopes might have holes in them.

After a high-cortisol climb up the South Mowich, we topped out the Puyallup and looked up. The Mowich Glacier is truly insane, broken to all hell. It really doesn't feel like Rainier, we conversed, it's pretty Alaskan. We transitioned and continued on, skating/traversing over towards the divide on Puyallup Cleaver. We'd cross over to the lower Tahoma Glacier, then ski to the Wonderland Trail on Emerald Ridge where we'd pick up the Puyallup Creek Trail.

Crossing over Puyallup Cleaver was tricky. We paused atop, identifying recent wet slab crowns that were a reminder of what lay around. The whumpfs started to make more sense and our alarm bells rang a little louder. We had one more slope to manage before getting down onto the Tahoma, where most travel was nearly flat. We agreed to ski down along a ridgeline, trying to keep all slopes beneath our feet and as low angle as possible. Porter carefully led us down the final pitch, sneaking as close to rocks as possible. He triggered a small wet slab, approximately 8 inches deep that thankfully went at his feet and slowly ran out to the low angle runout zone we'd identified. Calculated but spooky, nonetheless.

Now on the Tahoma, we were ready to get to the trail crest. I'm ready to be off of snow slopes, I remarked. We putzed through flat terminal glacier to the trail crest with Emerald Ridge where I, like a doofus, shouted HUMANS upon seeing two other skiers. They were just as surprised to see us as we were them, and we chatted with them briefly. They had intentions of going to ski the Sickle but after looking at it from afar, were waffling on their plan. Regardless, they were in for a treat of a campsite.

Surprisingly, the exit never became zombie-like, everything went pretty smoothly. We were able to ski down the Wonderland to approximately 4,000', where we took skis off and walked down through patchy snow in ski boots for a half mile or so. Confident the snow was behind us, we donned our trail runners which we'd lugged up and over Rainier and began the walk out. While we were prepared for a blank mental state and mindless miles of walking, we ended up chatting and enjoying the forest pretty much the whole time. There were some neat basalt columns that caught our eye, neature!

After 2 miles or so of trail we were on Wetside Road with 4-5 miles of walking back to our car. We mosied down, reaching the cars by 8:30 PM, no headlamps needed! We shuttled up to Paradise just as dusk set, grabbed my car, and drove over to the overnight lot where Stephen and Gian were hanging out. Hugging them never had felt so good. We shared beers, cooked up some food, and set up our cars for sleeping. Driving home tonight wasn't going to happen.