Order of Visit: High Point # 48
Date Visited: August 29, 2023
Route Taken: Froze-to-Death Plateau Route from the Mystic Lake Trailhead – 22.7 miles (round-trip)
Type of Terrain: A strenuous, alpine route deep in Beartooth Mountains that requires strong backcountry navigation skills, along with some bouldering and technical rock climbing (up to Class 5.4).
Elevation: 12,799 feet
Ancestral Lands: Crow, Eastern Shoshone, Cheyenne
WHAT’S IN A NAME?
Montana’s highest peak sits nestled in the Absaroka-Beartooth Wilderness. The name Absaroka, is a variant of the Crow Tribe’s autonym and it means “children of the large-beaked bird.” This name was given to them by the Hidatsa, a neighboring Sioux tribe, while other nations refer to the Absaroka as the “Crow” or “Raven” in their own indigenous languages.
The tallest peak in the rugged Absoraka-Beartooth mountains remained in relative obscurity until July 1898, when geologist and mining engineer James Kimball led a mapping expedition to the remote mountains. The team attempted to summit Granite Peak, but bad weather thwarted their efforts and they only made it to 11,447’. Kimball left the Beartooths without a successful summit or the discovery of any precious metals.
In 1910, Fred Inabnit (for whom another Beartooth Peak to the east was named) spotted Granite Peak and planned to scale it, but was turned back by strong August storms. He returned in 1922 with five climbers to make a second bid and came within 300 feet of the summit before being thwarted by the mountain’s sheer granite walls.
Undaunted by the challenge, Inabnit returned to Granite Peak a third time in August 1923 after persuading the Forest Service to participate in a joint climbing venture. The expedition broke itself into two teams, with Inabnit leading a group up the mountain’s south face, while Forest Service legend Elers Koch took his team up the east ridge. Inabnit’s team was stumped again by the steep granite walls and precipices, but Koch’s team triumphantly became the first to summit Granite Peak.
The U.S. Board on Geographic Names decided on the mountain’s current name – Granite Peak – in 1932, and the moniker belies its formidable nature. Like the granite rock it was forged from, this towering peak is strong, beautiful, and and above all, hard.
Granite Peak shares its descriptive, geologic-based moniker with numerous other smaller mountains in the western U.S., including shorter peaks in California, Oregon, Nevada, Washington, and Idaho. There’s even a second diminutive Granite Peak (10,115 feet elevation) located just 50 miles to the north in Montana’s Crazy Mountains.
TRIP SUMMARY
I wasn’t planning to summit Montana’s high point in 2023. In fact, when I finished my climb up Mt. Rainier, WA, (my 47th high point) with RMI in late June 2023 and one of the guides asked me if Granite Peak was next. I immediately started laughing. No way!! I’m no mountaineer. And I’m not made of money either. Mt. Rainier had been hard enough for one year. I’d save Montana for the following summer…. Or so I thought.
But then my plans for summer 2023 radically changed. First, my hiking partner got injured during our Pacific Crest Trail section-hike through Oregon. Then, the wildfires in central Oregon further stymied my progress.
Before I knew it I was reaching out to Beartooth Mountain Guides in Montana, to see if they had any last-minute guided trips I might be able to hop on. I was in luck. I could do a 4-day trip for the last week of August, right during the peak climbing window for Granite Peak.
Day 0 – ROCK SKILLS DAY
After a 1,000-mile road trip out to Red Lodge, MT, I met up with my climbing guide, Rostyn, on Friday afternoon so we could inventory all my gear, acquire a helmet and climbing harness, and then set out for a few hours of rock climbing basics at a local climbing area called, “The Ovens.“
Let me begin by admitting that rock climbing is NOT my jam. I don’t have a natural aptitude for it. I don’t aspire to climb things like Spiderman. And I certainly didn’t particularly excel at it during my brief lesson with Rostyn that afternoon. But on this state high point I’d have to trust myself (and the guide I just literally met) to make sure I didn’t fall to my death.
I was relieved when Rostyn told me that The Ovens was more technical than what we’d be climbing on Granite Peak itself. The various routes up this local rock face ranged from 5.4 to 5.10a, whereas Granite would only require me to climb at a maximum of a 5.4 level. What a relief! And after a few attempts on the Ovens – along with some rappels and lowers to boost my confidence that the slim rope really would hold me on my descent – I felt as if my beginner-level skills might suffice.
Day 1 – Mystic Lake to Oasis Camp
Rostyn and I met up again in Red Lodge on Sunday morning to caravan out to the Mystic Lake trailhead where we’d meet up with Chad, the third person in our group. Chad had a rock climbing background, so he didn’t need to attend the “zero day” for rock skills the prior afternoon. That meant we wouldn’t get to break the ice until we began our hike up Granite Peak.
Our 45-mile drive from Red Lodge to the trailhead was mostly uneventful but for two minor things. The first issue came when we got stuck behind a frustratingly slow 4×4 pick-up truck with enormous tires. Even though the driver had a vehicle literally designed to tear down dirt roads, this guy refused to go faster than 10 mph for the final 30 miles of our drive!! He just plodded along as if he were in a lowered Prius instead of a monster truck!
The second issue to stymie our progress was the rain. I’d checked our weather forecast on mountain-forecast.com before we left town, so I knew we’d probably get some heavy rain (up to 0.5″) on Froze-to-Death Plateau this afternoon. But that inclement weather wasn’t expected to roll in until around 2 pm.
Apparently the weather gods changed their mind though, because black ominous clouds rolled in over the Beartooth Mountains around 8:20 am, and then the skies opened up for a good 20 minutes as we made our way up the dirt roads.
The rain was just clearing up as we finally reached the trailhead. And after cross-leveling some of our shared gear (food, fuel, water filter) with Chad, our little group was set to go. It was now 9 am, and it was time to head into Custer National Forest toward Mystic Lake and beyond.
The dirt trail to Mystic Lake was well-defined and rose at a reasonable rate, yet I could feel the altitude effect in my chest once I got above 6,500 feet elevation. Nevertheless, I was certainly holding my own. Chad might be coming into this adventure with rock climbing skills under his belt, but I knew I had the hiking bit down pat. All those miles from my PCT section hike this summer and hiking up various Oregon county high points (CoHPs) were a great training ground for Granite Peak.
Less than three miles later, we made it to the curved 400-foot dam on the east end of Mystic Lake. To my amazement, this scenic dam was built back in 1925 and it created a postcard-like scene with the Beartooth Mountains rising sharply above us. And it was not a bad way to start this journey if you ask me.
We took our first break on the breathtaking shoreline and gathered fresh water for the big climb ahead of us. The next few miles would take us above Mystic Lake, climbing up the trail’s purported 27 switchbacks (though I didn’t personally count them) from 7,700 feet elevation up to toward the edge of Froze-to-Death Plateau.
During the next hour, more ominous-looking clouds began to move back in our direction as we climbed higher and higher. I did a lot of the talking during our ascent and learned that Chad was a fellow highpointer who was hoping Montana would be his 47th state high point.
Like me, Chad was still missing the high points in Alaska and Montana, and the other two states that eluded him were Wyoming and Florida. (Seriously?!? Florida is THE easiest one.)
Chad shared that he’d come out to try Granite Peak with a fellow climber just a few weeks earlier, but his friend injured himself and they had to turn back at Froze-to-Death Plateau. He also tried the Southwest Couloir approach (on the opposite side of the mountain) a prior year, but he’d begun too early in the season and the snow frustrated that attempt as well. So here’s hoping the third time on Granite Peak is the charm for him!
I can empathize with the frustration of having to turn back on a state high point before the summit. The same thing just happened to me a few weeks ago on Nevada’s Boundary Peak when my son, Finn, started to feel the effects of AMS right before a thunderstorm and heavy rain moved in. We had to bail with barely a mile left to go!
Nonetheless, I feel like knowing your limits (and that of your partners) is an important skill to have. There’s a saying about mountain climbing. There are old climbers, and there are bold climbers. But there are no old, bold climbers.
Once the three of us hiked up to nearly 9,000 feet elevation it was time to say goodbye to the nicely worn trail for the next few days. The rest of our journey would be cross-country over alpine terrain, rocks, boulders, and eventually up the granite rock walls of Montana’s high point.
By 12:45 pm, the thunder overhead signaled what were already knew. we would be racing the incoming storm up on Froze-to-Death Plateau. Would we make it up to the Oasis Camp before the skies opened up again?? That was the million-dollar question once fat raindrops started to intermittently land on us.
Rostyn minimized our breaks and we hiked and hiked as fast our heavy packs would allow, but eventually, we had to stop to don our rain gear. None of us wanted to roll into camp completely soaking wet and hypothermic.
Our pace remained solid for the next hour, and then we eventually spotted a large snow patch above Oasis Camp where some fellow hikers (with two dogs!) were setting up camp around 2:30 pm.
The rain pelted us for the final quarter mile across the uneven ground, and then we each raced as fast as we could to set up our respective tents amid the rock wall serving as windbreaks. Luckily, I had hundreds of nights of experience setting up my Nemo Hornet tent in the backcountry, and I had my shelter up in no time flat!
The next three hours were nothing but pouring rain as we sat alone in our respective tents to wait it out. I swaddled myself in my 10° down quilt and lay down, giving thanks that it was just heavy rainfall and not too windy.
Mountains make their own weather, but the weather forecast indicated that this rainstorm would be the worst thing we’d experience over the next few days. After that, it was supposed to be sunny and dry, giving us a nice window to attempt our summit climb.
By 6 pm, the rain seemed to taper off and then disappear, so I crept out of my tent to filter water from a nearby stream. I’d carried the bare minimum of water needed during our climb up from Mystic Lake this afternoon to keep my pack as light as possible. But now I needed to hydrate since I generally need to drink twice as much water at this elevation to meet my body’s demands.
Rostyn was outside his tent too, and getting ready to prepare our dinner. It felt so weird having someone else cook for me in the backcountry. But he turned out to be a fine little chef! And once our communal dinner was done and we’d chatted with our neighbors (a local couple with two dogs named Baby and Nico), it was time to hit the hay.
As I drifted off to sleep I felt some minor disappointment. I’d hoped to see some mountain goats up on Froze-to-Death Plateau, especially after seeing so many other highpointers’ pictures of them. But maybe the rain and the dogs were keeping them at bay. At least we got ourselves a rainbow as the sun started to set into the mountains to our west. Tomorrow would be a new day.
Day 2 – Oasis Camp to BIG Sandy
Our little group was awake by 6 am even though today would be a shorter day of hiking. The plan was to have breakfast, break down camp, and then hike up from Oasis Camp (10,700 feet) to Big Sandy (at 11,700 feet elevation) where we’d rest for the afternoon in preparation for the following day’s early morning push to the summit.
I was surprised that I’d stayed so warm during the night up on the plateau, but there was definitely a chill in the air as we emerged from our still-soaking wet tents. Hopefully, we’d get some sunshine and dry air to dry them out this morning.
As I made my way to our camp kitchen, Rostyn was already at the stove cooking us a lovely breakfast of English muffins with avocado and cheese with a side of coffee. I could get used to being pampered like this instead of just boiling water for oatmeal as I do on my typical backpacking trips!
The three of us enjoyed chatting and leisurely eating as the morning sunshine slowly crept across the plateau and warmed our faces and bodies. It was shaping up to be a lovely day to hike, and then it became even better when an entire herd of mountain goats appeared, including several young kids!
These goats weren’t shy in the least and they roamed around us as we broke down camp. Their presence was quite the distraction and I found myself stopping the task at hand to take dozens of photos and videos of the mountain goats. This was my first time seeing them in the wild and it was awesome!! Any regret that I felt yesterday about missing them was instantly erased and I was happy as a lark!
As we hiked out of Oasis Camp on uneven ground, we had to take care to avoid some flooded areas from the prior day’s rains and the snow melt that drained across the plateau. It was a combination of avoiding the water, walking on the flattest rocks, and trying to keep from turning our ankles. But then we got our first views of Granite Peak rising up in the distance and it all began to seem real. Tomorrow we would attempt to climb that mammoth beast.
We’d all been prepared for it to take us 3-4 hours to hike cross-country to our next campsite at Big Sandy, but we moved much swifter than expected and made it there in just about 2 hours instead. This meant we had plenty of time to set up camp and get any damp gear/tents dried out completely under the blue skies.
I spent the majority of the afternoon just resting inside my tent trying to conserve my energy. A headache pounded across the front of my forehead, and I knew this meant my body was dehydrated. So I forced myself to drink one full liter of water every hour and slowly consumed my snacks until dinnertime to diminish the painful effects of the altitude.
As the afternoon turned to early evening, it was time for one last dinner and a discussion of our ascent plan in the morning. I was feeling nervous, but the elements were in our favor. We had a good weather window until tomorrow evening. There was a nearly full moon tonight (a blue supermoon would fully emerge in just two more days). The conditions up here were about as good as any of us could hope for this adventure.
Day 3 – Summit Day
Although I tried my hardest to sleep, I barely dozed off before my alarm woke me up at 2 am. The plan was to get moving by 3 am, which meant I needed to dress quickly in my layers, tuck some extra gear into my summit pack, and join Chad and Rostyn for a hasty warm breakfast.
At 3 am on the dot, we set off in the fading moonlight with our headlamps illuminating the path before us. It was a challenging from the start. We started with uneven ground. Then we were rock hopping and boulder scrambling. What’s worse, we started to descend a sharp slope and I was disappointed to learn we’d have to lose some of our precious elevation before gaining it again in the dark.
It was a full three hours of rough and rugged hiking before we got to the snow bridge where the real climbing would commence. We made it there just as the sun was beginning to crest the horizon, and then took turns climbing each pitch. First Rostyn would climb up and put me on belay. Then I would follow his route up to the safety of a ledge, and Chad followed suit. Rinse and repeat, over and over again.
Despite my apprehension during the rock skills day back in Red Lodge, I did fine on each of the climbs. It was physically challenging, for sure. But never did I feel as if I was being pushed to do anything scary or unsafe. And Rostyn was a tremendously good guide. Heck, I even felt like we were moving as a team as we slowly moved our way toward the summit.
The morning sun bathed the mountain in a warm glow turning the cold granite from its typical gray-black to a soft shade of orange that reminded me of the vermillion cliffs in Arizona. And once I saw the keyhole formed by the giant rocks above, I knew the summit was within sight. I just needed to focus on going up, up, up.
As we switched between climbers, I caught my breath and took in the views below us too. Lowery Lake and Granite Lake sat off to our east and shimmered a deep azure blue under the cloudless sky. What a rewarding sight from this elevated angle.
Each time it was my turn to climb again, I could feel the physicality this high point demanded of my body. Granite Peak tests your fitness level at every turn, and it never really gets easier. But, there were plenty of rest breaks as Chad took his turn climbing on belay where I could catch my breath or slow my pounding heart. And so I always pressed on climbing higher toward my goal.
And then we turned one last corner and were scrambling up the final rocks to the top, where epic views awaited us. A red ammo sat nestled in the rocks containing a summit register and a cardboard sign with the word Montana written in capital letters. After 6 long hours of work – through dark night and early morning light, over rocks and boulders – we made it!!! We’d climbed up to the summit of one of the most difficult state high points of them all!
Feelings of jubilation washed over me, and I was grateful to share the moment with Rostyn and Chad. This mountain required something I didn’t know I had inside and it wouldn’t have been nearly as sweet without them there to revel in the exuberant joy of it all.
What’s more, we had the summit 100% to ourselves. There were no other teams ahead of us! It was just the three of us. And the mountain!
After 30 minutes of selfies, panoramic photos, and shoving some food in our faces, it was time to get going. We couldn’t just stay up at the summit forever. We still had the long, tedious climb back down, which would ultimately take us six more hours!
As we began our initial descent, we were able to bypass some of the more difficult sections by having Rostyn lower us down the steep granite walls. And we were two-thirds of the way back to the snow bridge when we met our first stranger of the day, a solo climber named Mark who was blazing up the rocks like they were nothing.
Then an adrenaline dump from all the excitement and anxiety hit me like a freight train. My stomach started cramping up, and the call of nature washed over me on one of the rock ledges. Poor Rostyn and Chad had to maneuver around a corner to give me a modicum pf privacy as I urgently pulled a wag bag out of my summit pack, scrambled out my climbing harness, and took part in the indignity of pooping on the side of a mountain and then packing it out.
A little bit later, we crossed paths with a larger group of 8 climbers donning their harnesses at the snow bridge. It close to 11 am now, which seemed pretty late in the day to be just be starting up toward the summit. But they didn’t appear to be a guided highpointing trip like ours. It was more like a rock climbing group of various skill levels, with several of their leaders who appeared to be in their 60s or older. I suspect Granite Peak was just one more mountain to cut their teeth one.
Once we returned across the snow bridge and retrieved our trekking poles from where we’d stowed them, we would start what I felt was the most tiring part of our 12-hour adventure. The steep descent and traverse on boulders and rocks. It was mind-numbingly slow. Our bodies were tired. Our brains were fried from the lack of sleep and mental fatigue of the day. And it was not easy.
The sun was beating down on us now and it was just a miserable, tiring slog back to camp. And then, in the fog of my fatigue, I accidentally slammed my knee into one of the boulders. The abrupt impact felt like that sensation where you stub your toe, but on my kneecap. And tears welled in my eyes as the sharp pain resonated through my poor knee. But we still had to keep going, and going, and going.
As we crested the far end of the massive rock field, we passed a campsite made of rocks and windbreaks. I vaguely remembered passing this high camp in the early morning, a mere half hour into our trek through the dark. If all went well, that meant we only had another half hour of hiking before our camp, where I could finally lay down and rest my weary body.
But before we proceeded any further, Rostyn encouraged us to turn around at look at what we’d just done. Granite Peak stood at our backs in all her strenuous, formidable glory. A simple photo cannot pick up the true majesty of this peak nor the rugged crags and nuances of it. It cannot capture the awesome feelings of looking at what we’d collectively accomplished.
My heart felt full knowing that my 48th state high point was under my belt. Only Nevada and Alaska remained.
Back at camp, Rostyn cooked us up some ramen, which tasted absolutely wonderful to my salt-deficient body. Then we relaxed and made a plan. We would break down camp and head back down to Oasis Camp for the evening so we had an easier 7-mile hike back out to the trailhead tomorrow.
Getting back down to 10,700 feet elevation would be good for our bodies. And it would probably be safer, too. A storm was headed our way this evening, and it was supposed to bring 30 mph winds with gusts potentially to 50-55 mph on Granite Peak! The further we got from the summit, the more we could mitigate the severity of the weather we’d experience.
As we broke down camp and packed our gear back up, the mountain goats showed up again. I felt like they were coming over to congratulate us on our accomplishment. Maybe we’d earned their respect by picking our way up across the hard terrain and scrambling to places even they cannot reach.
Less than two hours after departing Big Sandy, we were walking into Oasis Camp again where another group already had two extra sturdy mountain tents set up in the largest windbreak. Chad and I pitched our tents in the smaller windbreaks I’d camped just a few nights ago, and Rostyn encouraged us to put several giant rocks on our tents’ anchor points and add extra guy lines for the impending wind.
As I set up my tent again, I realized that my headlamp was missing. I know I had it this morning as we made our way up the mountain in the dark. We’d removed them from our helmet during one of our breaks after sunrise, and I clearly remember tossing into the bottom of my summit pack. But now it was nowhere to be found.
After thoroughly searching all my gear once, then twice, then three times, I had to admit that it was really gone. It was a disappointing discovery, but surely I would be fine without it. I only had one more night up here on the mountain. I had the flashlight on my iPhone if I needed to see anything in the dark. We would be going to bed early tonight. It would be totally fine. I’d just get a replacement when I got back home.
Of course, things didn’t go 100% as planned. I’d been asleep for about 2 hours when an ear-shattering clap of thunder immediately woke me around 10:30 pm. Then lightning streaked across the sky illuminating the inside of my tent like it was daylight. Heavy rain started to pelt my tent and the wind was so ferociously strong that it pressed the tent down onto me and collapsed the metal supports.
As the drenched rain fly and tent clung to my face and tried to suffocate me, I had to make the decision about whether to prop the aluminum support poles back up under and risk being struck by lightning or just lay there struggling to breathe.
I took the risk of getting my tent back up and then spent the next 30 minutes bracing the tent poles while gusts of insane wind tried to collapse it back down over and over again.
My bladder cried out with fatigue from all the water I guzzled after the climb and during dinner, and it seemed like the storm would never blow past. After 30 minutes though, it seemed like the storm was dying down and I emerged from my tent to empty my bladder and tighten down every facet of my rainfly possible.
Unfortunately, the storm wasn’t over though. After just a few minutes, a deluge of rain pelted me and the wind began to gust with increased ferocity as I struggled to get back inside my tent. The rain fly snapped in the wind like a flag in a tornado and it took all my strength to zip it closed.
And that’s when I noticed the real damage. My tent was in tatters under the rainfly. One end of the tent had a 2-foot tear in the mesh right along the seam. If I didn’t fix it ASAP, I wasn’t going to have a tent for much longer in this wind!
And so, I did the ugliest (but hasty) gear repair ever. I pulled out my needle and dental floss, and proceeded to sew up the mesh tent wall under the beam of my iPhone’s flashlight. Then I added some safety pins for good measure. I wasn’t sure it would hold until morning, but it was all I could do with what I had.
Chad and I hollered between our tents in between 50+ mph gusts. I shared what happened to my tent and made a plan to bail over to his tent if things got worse on my end. Then, I spent the next 6-7 hours alternating between trying to sleep in 10-minute increments and supporting my tent from collapsing in the forceful gusts of wind.
Day 4 – Heading Home
By some miracle, my tent made it through the night and I was up at 6 am ready for hot coffee and breakfast with Rostyn and Chad. It was our last morning on the mountain, and it all went well, we’d be back at the trailhead by noon-ish.
The sun was out again, but the wind just would not quit, which meant breaking down camp was a bigger chore than normal. I’d sacrificed a headlamp and a tent in the process of climbing Granite Peak. Yet, somehow, it was still better than the stormy aftermath from my highpointing adventure on Utah’s Kings Peak.
And once we made it below treeline and returned to the 27 switchbacks, our hike went pretty smoothly. I could see whitecaps on Mystic Lake, which appeared to have waves today thanks to the steady wind. It was no longer the mirror-like water we passed just a few days ago.
The day warmed up as we dropped elevation. The 35-degree temperatures of Froze-to-Death Plateau were finally behind us. And then we were suddenly back at our starting point, thanking each other for a fantastic climb together and promising to share photos of this epic adventure.
DETAILS
When to Visit: Located in the remote Beartooth Mountains, Granite Peak is usually only climbed between late June to early-September.
Getting There: Granite Peak is located 10 miles north of the Wyoming border and approximately 100 miles southwest of Billings, MT. There are two different approaches to the peak, with varying levels of technical difficulty:
- Froze-to-Death Plateau Route – This more popular, eastern approach begins at the Mystic Lake Trailhead near Red Lodge, MT (to the east of Granite Peak). This route begins at 6,200′ and requires a 22.7-mile (roundtrip) hike up to and across Froze-to-Death Plateau, along with some technical rock climbing during the final ascent;
- Southwest Couloir Route – This alternate, southern approach is gaining in popularity because of its less technical ascent. The approach begins at the Lady of the Lake Trailhead near Cooke City, MT (southwest of Granite Peak). This route begins at 8,700′ and requires a 28-mile (roundtrip) hike via the Sky Top Lakes Basin. Although the final ascent is only rated as Class 3, it can be more dangerous than the Froze-to-Death route due to the amount of loose rocks that may fall on climbers.
Fees/Permits: None.
Guides: Climbing Granite Peak will generally require some techincal mountaineering skills (5.4 YDS), which is why a high percentage of highpointers opt to hire a guide company to assist with a successful summit. I used Beartooth Mountain Guides, an outfitter that offers 4- or 5-day guided trips from Red Lodge, MT.
Parking:
- Highpointers taking the Froze-to-Death Plateau route can park at the Mystic Lake trailhead, which has parking for approximately 40 cars and has a vault toilet near the trailhead.
- Visitors taking the Southwest Couloir Route usually park at a small trailhead off Lulu Pass Trail Road, which is currently labeled on Google Maps as “Granite Peak, SW Ramp / Couloir TH”. There are no amenities as this trailhead and it only has room for a handful of cars.
Accessibility: Granite Peak is one of the most difficult state high points and requires excellent physical fitness.
Bonus: This high point’s proximity to the Montana -Wyoming border makes for a relatively easy visit to Yellowstone National Park where you can visit hydrothermal pools and geysers like the infamous “Old Faithful.” And if mountains are more your speed, then Grand Teton National Park is immediately to the south of Yellowstone’s park boundary.
Resources:
- An Overview of Granite Peak (SummitPost)
- Beartooth Mountain Guides (Outfitter/guide I used)
- Granite Peak via the Froze-to-Death Plateau Route (SummitPost)
- Granite Peak via the Southwest Couloir Route (SummitPost)
- Detailed Southwest Couloir Route Info (Climber.org)