I've always dreamed of trying a route like this. Early on in my climbing career I already knew that I was never going to be an amazing alpinist. I wasn't bold, I'm always scared, and I only kinda like type 2 fun. But there's just something about the alpine that kept drawing me in. I progressed cautiously, from indoor climbing, outdoor sport, learning how to plug gear on Yamnuska, swing tools at junkyards, snow climbing chasing couloirs. This route required every trick up my sleeve and more to survive, let alone climb this thing.

I carefully lean forward making sure my heavy pack with our overnight gear doesn't pull me backwards. Looking down I just see the rope swaying gently in the wind, looking up I just see the same down sloping rock covered with unconsolidated sugar snow with occasional thin veneer of ice hiding underneath. The climbing's not hard but there was no where to place protection. My climbing partner Tora was about 30meters below me just around the corner out of sight. I get a little nervous, I could feel myself gripping my tools tighter then I need to. I take two deep breaths before I make my next move. I move my tool above me, scratching the pick around until I find it catch something on the rock, two quick tugs and I keep my arm as still as possible as I pull up and kick around my toe until it rests on a mixture of rock, snow, and ice or something below me. I make a few more moves before I see a small piece of rock poking out, I quickly brush the snow off inspecting every inch of the rock before throwing a 0.3 in there. Knowing all well that it would take my body weight at best. It was the first piece in about 25 meters, I tell myself better then nothing as I keep inching my way up. After another 30m or so I finally make an anchor and can ease into my harness. Looking down I just see the 2 scant pieces I was able to place and think to myself "That was fucked up". Welcome to the alpine.

As I belayed Tora up I could feel that my nerves were shot, looking up I was nervous, it was only the second pitch. But, there was confidence in knowing how much trust I can have in Tora, he was probably the most reliable, strongest partner I could ask for in the alpine. Looking up was the crux pitch of ice for sure. With a steep off width filled with ice, we were a bit unsure if it would go, after deliberating for a second Tora said "I'll give it a try". I was relieved.

He left his heavy pack with me to give us the best chances and he made quick work of the technical climbing, but after I saw him crest the steep pitch and ramble his way up out of sight I waited a while. I could feel Tora moving around, climbing up, down climbing, left and right looking for a belay. There was just nothing to build a belay out of that was reliable. Finally after a while he was able to belay me up.

Looking up at the next pitch I got a bit nervous, it was dripping wet and the ice quality didn't look that great. I cautiously approached the start of the pitch. I stopped at the base before it got into the real climbing, two deep breaths and I started moving. I was getting absolutely drenched. I wanted to move more cautiously but I could feel the water even seeping into my base layer and my pants. It felt similar to two low for zero in Kananaskis, but without any protection. The bottom half took some shorter screws but by the top where it got steep the ice was only a few cm's thick. I cautiously tested each tool placement with a solid tug, once in a while the ice would delaminate and pop off, glad I tested that one. But with the constant showers from the melting icicles from above I didn't have time to wait. I just kept moving. I was thankful to get out of the firing range of the icicles and all of the water but the pitch didn't really ease up. Looking around trying to plan a good belay I slowly kept moving up. But I just couldn't find anything. I got to the end of the rope and plugged gear and a screw into what felt like a jenga block of choss. I threw my tool in the mix to make myself feel better about the anchor.

I was getting so cold from being soaked by the time Tora make it up to the belay, without exchanging much words we quickly sorted gear and Tora started firing up the next pitch. This would be the exit pitch to the ridge and out of the gully, from below it didn't look steep but the rock quality was absolute garbage at this point, there was no point playing any gear really. Tora gingerly danced his way left and right finding the holds that move the least as he made his way up. I couldn't be more glad to be following this pitch, with a tricky traverse out right on ridiculously loose holds it felt like climbing through a minefield, one wrong placement and you'd rip a hold and peel right off.

Finally, I tell Tora "Great lead" as we finally have a moment to take a breath, a non-hanging belay. But, we'd taken a lot longer to get here then we'd hoped for so we quickly changed gears and moved forward. This was the pitch that was going to take us to the top. The snow had gone isothermal to this point so I ended up just wallowing through chest deep snow, trying to find the biggest block of rock that wouldn't move on me. I aim for the point in the ridge that doesn't have an overhanging cornice and slowly make my way up to it. We didn't have to dig a tunnel but it took me a while to dig down the vertical isothermal snow enough that I wouldn't just fall backwards. As I belly flop over the ridge I feel this weight lifted off my shoulders, I can't believe we did it.

I belay Tora up and we take a moment to refuel before starting out descent. The isothermal snow made me pretty nervous for the descent, we romped down the sloped carefully to the col and to be honest we just expected an easy romp down back to valley bottom. But alas we had to navigate a crevasse field, we walked left and right discussing our best options, we settle on rappelling off the crevasse into a gully that would take us all the way down. one rope stretch of a rappel and we were there. We made it back to the bivy site for Diadem Wooly and sorted our gear. "Holy Shit, we did it" I couldn't believe it. This was without a doubt the hardest climb I'd ever done, I was absolutely fucking terrified but at the same time I wanted to go back. Honestly, I don't think I can really ever give a logical reason why, but I can't wait for the next.

Humble Horse - Diadem Peak (IV, 5.7, WI4)

Date we climbed: July 06, 2024

We broke the climb up into 2 days with an approach and bivy near the base just off of the glacier, but since you drop down and out a separate valley with this approach you have to climb the route with your full bivy gear.

We parked at a pull out about 1.6km north of the HI Beauty Creek hostel and we waded the river from there. It was about crotch deep. Then we followed this drainage all the way up to the right before we could easily make our way upto the plateau where Diadem peak sits and the glacier (not sure of the name of the glacier). It looked like you might've been able to scramble up ledges so you don't have to go all the way to the climbers right up and round but we didn't know for sure so we just went around and it was an easy enough romp up.

The Climb

We made our way to the base and started up the snow climb. We had absolutely no issues with bergshrunds or nothing. Near the top it got relatively steep 60+ degrees and we made it into the mixed gully that Tora lead. Maybe M4 ish?

There was this ice gully to the right of us that also looked good but we did the one to the left which I think is the standard route.

Then I lead the next pitch which was a full rope length, M3/4 but no pro, which took us to the base of the off width, slightly overhanging ice pitch, we were able to get good screws at the back of the crack.

Myself heading up the next pitch which was little pro on decent ice, but dripping wet on my right side there. At the top of the pitch the rock quality got really really bad, which is I guess to be expected as it is the second to last technical pitch. The next pitch felt pretty full on with how loose it was, technically not hard, just scary.