Most of the High Sierra in California is composed of
lightly colored granitic rock. This rock originates
from an up-welling of magma caused by the subduction
of the Protopacific plate under the North American
continental plate during the Mesozoic era. Scoured
and polished even at the submicroscopic level by
glaciers during subsequent ice ages, mirror-smooth
granite reflects and polarizes the illumination of
the noonday sun as if burning with a cold internal
fire. It is little wonder that John Muir, spending
a lifetime studying the Sierra, came to refer to it
as "The Range of Light." (1)
The Ritter Range, however, is strikingly anomalous
to this appearance, even when viewed from hundreds
of miles away. Rather than the young granitic
batholith that comprises the remainder, this part
of the Sierra is composed of a dark, frost-shattered
metavolcanic rock more ancient than Sierra granite,
featuring climbing on incredible, glacier-sculpted
towers that seem to deify gravity. As one wanders
through this remnant of the primeval, mile-thick Sierra
cap rock, the feeling of walking through a museum is
strong. Living glaciers still cling to the flanks of
these dark spires, and ongoing geologic processes are
constantly showcased in the form of rockfall from the
highest peaks.
Banner Peak thrusts into the sky at the northern
terminus of the Ritter Range, its complex, blade-like
soaring ridges finally dropping northwest to Glacier
Notch pass above Lake Catherine, seemingly a last
testament to the obdurate nature of the primeval
Sierra. It is the long geologic history of Banner
and neighboring peaks that has resulted in such a
complex topography, which in turn has befuddled
some of the best climbers to visit the area.
From Thousand Island Lake, the Northwest Shoulder
of Banner Peak (often mistaken for the NE Buttress)
is visible as the serrated skyline above Glacier
Notch Pass. The confusing human history of this
ridge began in August 1950, when Sarah Haynes and
Jim Koontz ascended the crest, rating the Northwest
Shoulder fourth class. (2)
David Harden and Kevin Sutter were attracted to
this skyline as well, (visible from Highway 395)
but when they approached the peak in August of
1973, the pair switched their plan and established
a route on the NE Buttress, a less-obvious line to
the left of the Haynes/Koontz route, which joined
the latter at the summit ridge.(3) Confused yet?
if not, read on...
Later, Vern Clevinger and Claude Fiddler teamed
up to climb the north skyline, unroped, and rated
the route 5.7, believing that they had climbed
Harden's and Sutter's route. This climb completed
their plan to traverse the entire Minaret crest
from Iron Mountain to the Catherine Lake Saddle. (4)
Compounding their error, Claude later published
an account of their ascent in "100 Classic Climbs
of the High Sierra" which gave an involved
description of the wrong route, assigning the
first ascent of this "North Skyline" to Harden
and Sutter (4,5). After the publication of 100
classics, Harden and Sutter wrote a letter to
co-author John Moynier, detailing how their route
differed from the route described in the book.
Enter Em Holland, Steve Giddings, and Brutus,
in March of 1997, pausing on back-country skis
at the entrance to this natural museum, scratching
their heads at a frozen-over Thousand Island lake,
comparing guidebook descriptions with the topography,
and ultimately trying to decide what to climb.
We wanted to climb the "Classic Route" but which
was it? North skyline or the less-obvious buttress
to the left? Our discussion lasted through the
evening hours, and halfway up the approach the
next morning. Eventually, we decided to attempt
the Harden-Sutter NE Buttress, (the approach being
slightly shorter, and snow conditions much better)
and had an excellent climb. With a team of three,
and short days, we summitted just as the sun melted
into the western horizon.
The torturous crampon descent and ski back to
camp across Thousand Island lake finally ended
at 1 am the following morning. Our descent was
lighted by the full, eclipsing moon and the
mysterious specter of Comet Hale-Bopp suspended
in the western sky.
Skiing out to the road the next day, still
uncertain of what we had actually climbed, our
discussion continued. It was not until several
months later, after querying the guidebook author,
that we finally cleared the matter up.
Here, then, is a topo of the Northeast Buttress
of Banner Peak. Since our climb was made under
winter conditions, the topo should differ significantly
enough from summer rock as to make it virtually useless.
In conclusion, the steep dark walls of this area, with
their breathtaking exposure, loose rock and ruble-strewn
ledges, create a climbing environment that is both
exhilarating and hazardous. Rock bombardment and
"Portable handholds" can be expected on nearly every
climb. Walter A. Starr, Jr., author of Starr's Guide
to the John Muir Trail, lost his life in this range
during a solo attempt on one of the Minarets south
of Banner, undoubtedly a victim of those same geologic
processes which gave birth to the spires. That being
said, setting out on any of these routes on Banner
Peak guarantees an adventure in route finding through
shattered vertical looseness, and some of the very
best alpine climbing to be found in California.
Happy Trails!
1. Information from A Geological
Interpretation of the Yosemite
2. Roper, Steve. Climbers guide
3. Secor, R.J.. High Sierra: Peaks, Passes and Trails
4. Personal communication from John Moynier
5. Moynier, John, 100 Classic Climbs