Featured Photo: Paul gardner and me on the summit of Gannett Peak, highest point in Wyoming 50 years after my first ascent.
To our left, is a sheer rock drop-off 1000 vertical feet to the Minor Glacier. To the right, a steep snowfield ends in a cliff falling 500 feet to the Gooseneck glacier. We gingerly traverse the knife edge ridge moving back and forth from rock to snow edging towards the summit of Gannett Peak 200 meters away. The air is thin at 13,800 feet with the faint smell of smoke; the sky gloomy. The haze from distant wildfires casts a pall on the surrounding peaks. It is 2 pm on July 30th, 2024. Still thirty minutes from the summit, my partner Paul Gardner and I both realize we will not make it back to our tents by nightfall.
Photo: Climbing up to the long summit ridge of Gannet. Credit: Paul gardner
Fifty years ago I stood on the summit of Gannett in July 1974. That trip was also my third attempt to climb the peak. You don’t have success in mountaineering without failure. Knowing when to turn back can save you from a miserable night without shelter or… cost you your life.
This is my third attempt to climb Gannet Peak over the last five years. Gannett is the highest point in Wyoming and one of the most difficult state high points to climb in the lower forty eight states. First attempt, a partner bailed and on the second we were hit by storms and snow. For this trip, we choose a seldom used approach taking three days from Green River Lakes to cover 25 miles of high altitude off-trail hiking.
Photo: the journey begins with a sunset at Clear Creek.
In the 70s, there was little information regarding climbing Gannett Peak: a few guidebooks and a USGS map; both short on detail. For a week alpine climbing trip into the wilderness, we suffered under the weight of sixty pound packs. Our first attempt from the north along the divide ended when one of our party called it quits. A nightmare descent down Pixley Creek through boxcar size boulders returned us to our car at Green River Lakes trailhead. A second attempt from the west was cut short when one of our team lost his mountaineering boot in a river crossing. Our third attempt in July 1974 took the traditional Glacier Trail route from the east. Success—seven days car to car. Quite the experience for a twenty year old kid from Minnesota.
Photo: On the approach to Gannett in 1974. Credit: John Faraci
In the wee hours of the morning, it was pitch dark when we departed our camp at the head of the Grasshopper Glacier. First we climbed Klondike-Pedestal Col dropping down to Gannett Creek. Then over Gannet Pass crossing the Gannett Glacier and over Sentinel Pass to get to the base of our route—the Gooseneck Glacier. It is rough country and we are old and slow.
Photo: Gannet Peak from the Gooseneck Glacier
We reach the summit at 2:30 pm. A quick congratulations, a few photos and it’s time to turn around. Reversing our route we traverse the ridge, drop down a snowfield, and descend a broken rock face. Reaching the head of the steep Gooseneck Glacier we pause above the crux of the route. We slowly climb down facing in on the steep snow, delicately crossing an ice bridge over the bergschrund (a crevasse in the ice). Peering down into the bowels of the glacier, we are mesmerized by a black hole surrounded by blue ice. Another hour sees us on non-technical ground, but still a long way from the comfort of our high camp.
Photo: Descending the steep Gooseneck Glacier.
It is dark as we reach the last pass above camp. In the pool of light from my headlamp, I spy fresh mountain lion tracks in the snow. We have been on the move for 18 hours covering 10 miles and 5000 vertical feet of unforgiving terrain. Stumbling around boulders in the dark, guided to our camp by modern GPS technology, I finally see our tents reflected by the light from my headlamp. Too tired to make dinner, we crawl into our sleeping bags… and for the first time that day—relax.
I have learned over the years that failure is the best teacher. I almost died in 2014 on the Grand Teton. Read the story here: Genesis on the Grand . That failure, and many others, taught me to pay attention. Even though Paul and I are in our 70s, we both knew we could get back safely to our camp. Calculated risk or Forbidden fruit? Only you can answer that question. Seven days car to car and we never ran into another hiker or climber. We pushed ourselves to the limit, but did not cross the red line. On the three day hike back to the car, two seventy year olds basked the in the glow of warm sun, light winds, and the feeling that we accomplished something very special.
Photo: Lower Green River Lake and the last mile to the car.
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