The Avellano Towers 2014 - Part 3

John and Dave relieved to be off the wall

I was sharing a tent with John. That was cool. I had earplugs.

Once you mitigated against Johns snoring he was a good tent partner. He had brought all the essentials for an extended stay in a stormbound tent.

• Ipod speakers with a plentiful supply of drum and base

• Kindal with a good supply of pre-downloaded quiz games

• Rum

• Sweets

• The medical kit

John, Dave, Will and Reeve sitting out bad weather

Within the tent I lay happily cocooned, warm and dry. Out tent pitched on a section of abandoned riverbed had done its job during the previous two days of torrential rainfall. My infrequent visits outside, obligatory to perform hasty acts of defecation, had all also included a check on the river levels.

The river had risen to within a few feet of its banks but never seriously looked like reclaiming the oxbow of relict riverbed we had camped in. John and I felt sure we would get advanced warning if it did flood. Will and Reeve were camped far closer to the possible breech, and I was sure I’d hear their cries of distress.

Outside the tent Will and Reeve were mooching about in the drizzle. Roused from our slumbers we peered out to confer. Reeve related to us a sorry story of tent based water ingress.

After his initial experiences with John’s snoring when they had shared a tent, Reeve had not hesitated to bed down with Will. This decision which had seemed a good one on the balmy dry days of our approach began to look less sound when he awoke in the night to a feeling of dampness. Will initially passed off the incoming deluge as being due to slack guy ropes and readjusted the outer. This was not however and unqualified success with a persistent drip onto Reeve being a key feature of the next few weeks. From this point on bivy bags were required in Wills tent.

Reeve enjoying the comfort of Wills tent

Peering out of the tent flaps I could see the base of the wall, our objective, plastered in snow. Success and glory was not happening today so I went back to sleep.

Over the next few days we watched weather forecasts and the snow levels. The face slowly cleared, mini avalanches sloughing off the upper sections of the wall. It was clearly too dangerous, and too wet to attempt to push our route higher.

In the days prior to the storm we had climbed 250 meters of crackline up the prow of the tower. The super slick glacial polished granite had made the climbing much harder than the angle would imply. John and Reeve had done the initial block of leading, pushing a line up some surprisingly complex and devious ground. Will and I had followed the next day in deteriorating conditions.

I had led the last thirty meters of climbing. In the rain I'd pushed upwards, mixing aid and free moves to make progress despite the conditions, before being forced to stop. Lower on the route I'd climbed some obligatory free, run out sections but these had been on the easy angled slabs, now I was on steep ground. The crack I had been climbing had belled out. The pod it formed was devoid of gear, the narrow crack reappearing eight meters above my head. From my position I'd been able to see a good flake at four meters and by tensioning out right I had seen holds. 

Mentally I’d pulled on and climbed the moves, gastoning off the holds to the right of the pod. Rocking up to gain the flake, hastily stuffing in cams before walking my feet up and going for the flatys above. Mantling on the holds led to the good crack and gear. It should go; just not with the waterfall falling down it. Will and I had then bailed leaving the kit up there ready for the big send.

The big send that never came.

Due to their damp living conditions Reeve and Will generally arose earlier. Hence it was Reeve who got to observe the big orange rock scar that later morning. From in my sleeping bag I could hear the conversation as binoculars were sourced and the face examined. From our camp we could see a new orange rock scar at approximate half height on the face. It looked worryingly close to being above the start of our fixed ropes.

John and I investigated.

Reeve scaremongering about rockfall

From the gear stash it was apparent that a huge piece of rock had impacted upon the ledges and slopes at the base. Pulverised granite and smashed snow showed where the huge missing flake system had impacted. What were not visible were our ropes. I scrambled the initial fifty meters of easy ground to the first terrace. From here I peered upwards.

The fixed rope was gone.

Scrambling along the terrace into the zone of destruction I could see no rope. The ledge from which the rope had hung looked different, changed. Below I scanned the slabs and spotted a section of rope, five meters long hanging limply from the debris.  John joined me and we discussed our options. 

John had previously climbed the initial eighty meters of slabs and was not keen to repeat the exercise. Especially not in the wet with the limited gear available. My decision to cash the bulk of the climbing kit at the top of the fixed ropes was looking like a mistake.

Dave jumaring on the lower section of wall

The only gear we had with us was three master cams, sizes 1, 2, and 3 and the grey and purple camalots. John vetoed climbing the slabs so I turned my eyes to alternative options. To our right, an ice slope led up to a dank overhanging crack. The crack turned a lip and widened to an offwidth before continuing to the edge of a ledge system. This had been dismissed previously in favour of dry slabs but now might be the key.

Returning to the mini gear stash John and I assessed our options. One rope, no crampons, little gear, some etriers and the much-maligned stubai ice hammer.  Lurking at the back of the stash was the size six cam. Unwilling to prevaricate I took the lead.

I chopped steps up the ice, good steps as my blown out running shoes offered poor edging capability. The bergschrund grew as I got closer, but the crack above still offered promise. After chopping a sizable ice bollard I was able to cross the gaping bergschrund to the crack and relax with my first real runner in thirty meters. From here I set off upwards, leapfrogging the few cams that fitted. With only a five cams I was unable to leave any behind but was mostly able to ensure I had a constant two points of attachment. Mostly. At the lip I was able to high step my last cam and shove the six into the flared offwidth above. Sinking back down parallel to my last good piece I bounce tested the suspect six, prior to launching upwards, free climbing the last twenty meters of offwidth. As it slabbed out I managed to stuff my second to last cam into the thin seam at the back of the groove. This protected my mantle onto the loose rock strewn ledge. Due to the length of the pitch John was halfway up the steepening ice.

Typical conditions encountered

Scouring the ledge I found a single possible gear slot. Flooded with relief I slammed in the only cam still hanging from my harness and shouted with relief.

I backed up the cam with a dubious ice axe placement and myself. Bracing myself against the rope I prided myself on the speedy set up of the good three point belay. With no ice axe or gear John was forced to jumar directly up the rope whilst I sat, feet planted firmly as possible in the loose rock taking his weight.

From here we traversed passing the top of our chopped first rope to gain the more sheltered steeper centre of the wall and the remaining fixed lines. These appeared to be fine. John jumared these first, belayed by me and placing some gear to arrest his fall should the ropes fail. The weather closed in with rain steadily falling as we worked up the wall. We tagged our high point and descended, pulling each rope through with trepidation. Compared to what had gone before it all went smoothly and we regained the floor hours later with all our gear, thankful to be out of there.

Avellano Towers

John leading on the lower section of the wall

Postscript:
We spent a further few days sitting in our tents before walking out. Christmas day was spent roasting potatoes and chorizo in the forrest prior to attempting (unsuccessfully) to climb rotten trees with ice axes. Reeve was almost washed away by rivers repeatably as we walked down to the lake.

The Avellano Towers 2014 - Part 1

The unclimbed North East face of the South Avellano Tower. (Photo John Crook)

Jim Donini had offered to show us cool unexplored mountains and we were hooked. After two months of bumming around in Chalten the blast of enthusiasm provided by Jim and Angela was phenomenal. From the deck of their house by Lago General Carrera we plotted.

Jims next-door neighbour, Lito Tejada-Flores had climbed Fitzroy in 1968 with Yvon Chouinard, Dick Dorworth and Doug Tomkins. From Yosemite, the crucible of granite big wall climbing, they had driven south in a van surfing and climbing until reaching Fitzroy.

After succeeding in climbing Fitzroy, the third accent of the mountain and the first accent of the “fun hogs route”, they all made it back to California. All however were highly influenced by their experiences. This trip and Patagonia more generally changed them and remade the rest of their lives.

Lito now lives in Northern Patagonia for six months of the year. From the house he built, perched on a marble headland he has an unbroken view of unclimbed mountains surrounding the lake. Lito, whilst no longer climbing mountains, maintains a huge passion for mountaineering and was doing a good job of making John even keener than he already was.

The Avellano Towers from the South.

Lito was showing us aerial photographs of the Avellano Towers, which his wife Lindi had taken whist documenting Lago General Carrera as part of the campaigns against Patagonian dam building. The photos clearly showed a big granite wall and Jim who had climbed there previously vouched for its existence.

Aerial photo of the Avellano Towers from the east

With the energy flowing from Lito and Jim the possibilities of failure were low. As we had a few more drinks and discussed the logistics the possibility of failure fell to nil.

Unfortunately the possibility of failure when we sobered up was higher than nil.

Add the long approach and big wall things were less certain.

Jim shamelessly sandbagged us into a “short approach” which left us panting for breath as we wallowed in the wake of the seventy year old. In our defence we had heavier bags.

We found the big wall and it was big. It proved too big for us on that occasion. After valiant failure we retreated licking our wounds.

There had been three major problems:

1.         Not enough food;

2.         Not enough gear;

3.         Not strong enough.

I returned to work, which was quite frankly duller than Patagonia. My resolutions to never return evaporated like the morning dew to be replaced by psych.

The South Avellano Tower at the head of the valley

The first step was recruiting Reeve, this hopefully dealt with problem three.

Applications for MEF and BMC funding were submitted and John after briefly wavering threw his hat in with us. A chance encounter with Will at Beaston Tor saw us up to the target number of four participants, suckers, marks or willing victims.

My personal kit seemed to take up a worryingly large amount of the house

Things came together, we begged borrowed and stole a huge amount of kit. Rab went out of their way to sort us out with a load of their gear, which solved problem two. This ensured we could devote our money to arranging boats and gauchos to carry all our food, solving problem one.

Realising the pile of equipment was far too enormous to approach the towers using the route from Buria Murta John and I used in February we concocted a ridiculous plan.

Step 1 - Boat across Lago General Carrera

Lago General Carrera is big with over 1,850 km squared of surface area. It is also deep, 850 meters deep at the western end and always windy. How hard could finding a boat across the lake prove to be?

Step 2 - Access the Towers by travelling up the Avellano River valley.

The route in from Buria Murta involved a hideous cow trail, which gained and lost approximately 600 meters of height in the first 7km. This was followed by 5 km of the most exerting jungle bashing and river-walking I’ve ever encountered. This nicely warms one up for bypassing a 70 meter cliff band by clinging to tree roots on a vegetated tree rake. Following this some nice granite slabs, polished and impassable when wet lead to death moraine screes and a high coll. From here a short romp down an ice filled gully might gain the base of the route.

Areal photo of the mountains with the Avellano River running down to Lago General Carrera

Having perused google earth I knew the following: The Avellano valley only gains 500 meters in total from the lake to the base of the route; there are signs of agriculture and habitation as far as the confluence at 25 km. Using copious amounts of optimism we decided there would be someone willing to packhorse equipment up the valley in exchange for cash.

In December 2014 we returned with a huge amount of optimism and a plan involving boats and horses.

The route from Buria Murta involved river walking up the valley below

Thanks to the BMC and the MEF for helping to meet the cost of this expedition.

Thanks to Rab equipment for helping with the gear we required.

And finally thanks to Outside for providing all the kit we had forgotten we required at incredibly short notice!

Cerro Apidame or Cerro Colorado (La Pirámide), Patagonian desert towers

When it rains in the mountains ones options are limited.

If your in North Wales you can sometimes avoid the rain on the coast at Gogarth or go sport climbing on the Orme. If you are in the Lakes and the weather's bad its harder.

Around Lago General Carrera however things are different. Looking out from the balcony the promised mountains were cloaked in cloud. Somewhere out there lay Mt St Valentine and its great unclimbed face. There was to be no climbing in the mountains today. Today we would have to go with Plan B.

This was Plan B.

La Pirámide above Chile Checo

Anywhere else Plan B would be Plan A.

After paying a trespass fee of a bottle of tequila to the local Gaucho we abandoned the pickup and strolled into the Jeinimeni National Park and up towards the geological feature dubbed la pirámide. We were not the first to climb here. Jim had brought others before and was keen to pit his new recruits against the route they had put up in 2010.

Our experiences carrying loads to the Torres Glacier made this feel like a path. The tussocks of grass and Huánuco paths proved preferable to mobile moraine and glacier and we soon crested the rise to the camping spot by some springs below the pirámide. After we erected our tent the setting sun caught the prow of the feature, a clear master line and enticed us into running our gear up the final talus slope to the base of the crag. In the fading light we peered upwards. This was amazing.

The next morning it seemed appropriate to repeat the existing line. It would be a nod to those before us and more importantly it would allow us to scope the cliff, to view those other cracks from above and below. Four pitches of steep jamming later we made easy ground and scrambled to the top in time to watch two condors catching thermal soar around us. We were impressed, the rock was good, the lines were good and the situation was amazing. Even better some new lines had leapt out at us.

John climbing on the Ultimate Basault Experiance

The main prow we had seen highlighted by the deepening shadows looked possible. It would involve escaping from the deep cracks and getting onto the faces of the hexagonal features. There did appear to be small seams between the columns to allow trad gear. The prow flowed upwards, slabby to start but steepening. The first proper ledge was at sixty meters height. After some debate we swung in and bolted a belay at thirty meters on a small foot ledge, the only possible stance available. I abbed down checking the gear and decided it would be protectable.

There was some talk of pre placing some gear to ensure a successful outcome but we decided that this would take something away from the route. John led the first pitch, this thirty meter pitch weighed in around E3 and was excellent with the slightly runout crux coming just prior to the belay. I then took over and managed to gain about five meters before pulling off a small crimp and taking the lob. Slightly spooked I continued upwards towards the crux moves guarding the wider upper crack. My nerves got the better of me and after fiddling in tiny wires I found myself again hanging on the rope. I pushed on ‘french free’ to the second belay.

John seconded and then offwidthed to glory and the top.

We returned a few weeks later and swapped leads, I led out pitch one and John dispatched pitch two leaving a three star offering weighing in at around E4 6a.

Many thanks for Jim Donini for taking us to such a phonominal crag X.

John leading the second pitch of the Ultimate Basalt Experience with David belaying. Thanks to Jim Donini for photograph.

Topo of routes on prow section of La Piramide

Topo of ledge section of La Piramide showing routes climbed. This area is distinguished by the prominent ledge at a quarter height.

This Changes Everything

The North Face of the South Avellano Tower viewed from the base of the 'Tooth'

In January 20014 John and I were hunkered down in El Chalten. We sat despondent, yet another weather window collapsing before our eyes. The proceeding week of hectic planning, training and getting excited seemed nothing but a cruel joke.

We cracked and took Jim up on his talk of Northern Patagonia and booked bus tickets.

Jim has had a house on the shores of Lago General Carrera for several years and has used it for a base to explore the mountains surrounding the lake and the edges of the Northern Patagonian Ice Cap. Information online was limited. There were a few trip reports, Cerro Choss, The Avellano Towers and Mt St Valentine but all were very vague.

It sounded like an adventure, something totally different far from the Cerro Torre circus.

We took a punt on Jim’s talk of ‘interesting’ objectives and Jim delivered.

In a weeklong spell of immaculate weather we walked into the Avellano Towers. Jim Donini assured us it was a short six hour walk to a basecamp by a lake. We followed as he led up out of the town of Bahia Murta and into the mountains. There must have been something wrong with our watches, as it seemed to take at least ten hours.

To kick things off Jim, John and I climbed the tooth. This shapely summit had previously repelled Jim in 2007 so it was good to see him settling old scores. From the top of this we gazed upon the face of the 'South Avellano Tower'.

This was the largest unclimbed feature I'd ever seen, un-climbed but not un-climbable. From our vantage, our eerie on the summit of the tooth features were visible. Huge dihedrals and ramp lines led the eye upwards. There were even some snow patches so we could make do with just taking a jet boil. Enthusiasm boiled over trumping reality and sensible decision-making.

After a 2 am alpine start we descended the couloir to the base of the wall. We managed to locate the base of our intended route in the nick of time prior to the wall falling into the moon shadow of the range. Congratulating ourselves John set off. In the pool of torchlight at the base I immediately noted Johns progress was slow. He inched up the big corner.

At 12 pm we had climbed three hundred meters. This sounds impressive, three hundred meters of new route up a thousand meter face. Gaining the top in two days was totally achievable. The problem was that our three hundred meters of climbing involved three faltering starts followed by abseils, several diagonal traverses and a short section of down climbing. We were possibly only fifty meters higher than we started.

Reality kicked in, we had climbed fifty vertical meters in six hours. There were another nine hundred and fifty meters to go, even my mental arithmetic told me we needed hundred and fourteen hours to gain the top. Convincing John however to bail was the hardest battle yet but in the end he also conceded that the chances of us gaining the top before starving to death were remote.

A highly forshortened view of the South Avellano Tower from below

It took one and a half abseils to gain the base so we might have made the top in only 60 hours of continuous climbing. Who knows.

Sitting at the base looking up at the wall in the afternoon sun I knew one thing. This unfinished business changed everything.

You just cannot leave unclimbed big walls made of impeccable granite lying around. They get inside you. They challenge you. I was coming back.

Screw commitments; I've an appointment in December.

David Brown hanging out at the bivi spot in the col with the approach from Bahia Murta visible in the background

Jim Donini accending the final pitch of the 'Tooth' with the Avellano valey below

The Crown Jewels

In February, John Crook, Jim Donini, Angela Goodacre, and I spent a week in the Avellano Mountains of Chile. This area is near the northern Patagonian Ice Cap and northeast of the shores of Lake General Carrera. We focused our attention on the Avellano Towers, an area of granite spires at the head of the Avellano River. The lack of accurate mapping, coupled with various approaches to the towers, have led to fragmented descriptions of the region.

John Crook cramponing up on the approach to the 'Crown Jewels'

Our group approached from the small town of Bahia Murta, using the approach employed by John Bragg, Wes Bunch, Angela Hawse, and Brenton Regan in 2005, and used again by Jim Donini and Thom Engelbach in 2008. This approach leads to a valley west of these striking granite peaks. [See AAJ 2008 for Jim Donini’s description of this approach and climbing. See AAJ 2004 and AAJ 2006 for other established climbs.] After establishing a base camp between two lakes below the spires, we climbed to a bivy site in a col south of the smaller, tooth-shaped tower to the south of Avenali Tower, aptly nicknamed the Tooth.

The following day we climbed the east ridge of the Tooth. This tower had previously been climbed, as we found abseil tat on the summit, but due to the lack of written evidence it’s suspected that this prior ascent was via easy, broken terrain to the north. There was no evidence of any ascent on the route we’ve called Tooth Arête (300m, 5.10). After descending we bivied again at the col.

The next day John Crook and I set out to climb the east ridge of the tower just north of Avenali Tower and south of a summit assumed to have been climbed by Dave Anderson and party (AAJ 2004). We first gained the hanging glacier below the towers by dropping from the col between the Tooth and Avenali Tower, then crossed under the northeast face of Avenali Tower before gaining the east ridge of the unnamed tower just to its north.

Jim Donini and David Brown on the summit of the 'Tooth' with Avenali Tower and the Crown Tower in the background

The ridge was easy for several hundred meters until it narrowed to form a classic knife-edge. Several steep pitches (up to 5.11-) allowed access to the upper portion of the ridge. From here we made progress up steep ground (5.10) to gain one of the twin summits of this tower. The climb took approximately 10 hours from the bivy. We descended the ridge, which took seven hours and involved a complex mixture of abseiling and downclimbing. Fortunately the upper section was descended in the daylight with no significant rope tangle issues.

This was a high-quality route, ascending mostly very good granite to a fantastically sharp and pointy summit. We called the formation Crown Tower and the climb Crown Jewels (800m, 5.11-).

In addition, John Crook scrambled to the top of the two highest summits (both 5.6) south of the Tooth; the left of these had some abseil cord indicating a prior ascent while the right-hand one did not.

David Brown high on the Crown Tower

Anotated aerial photograph of the Avellano Towers taken from the south east