This article ran in the May 1960 issue of Summit.
By Paul Williams
Although the age of exploration in the North Cascades is over and all of the highest peaks have been climbed, there is still a lot of "cleaning up" left to do. Many small satellite peaks and towers haven't even been attempted, and few of the larger mountains are worked out of new routes.
Also, among the 8,000 and 9,000-foot peaks in the area there are groups of small peaks that look insignificant compared to their neighbors, but are quite challenging. The famous North Cascade jungles tend to discourage climbers from exploring the smaller peaks unless there is a good trail leading to them—and there aren't many good trails in the North Cascades.
In the summer of 1957, while working in the Forest Service, Arthur Short was sent with a small crew to fight a lightning strike fire up Arctic Creek, a tributary of the Skagit River. When the blaze was under control he took a hike to the top of the ridge and looked into the headwaters of No Name Creek. When he returned home to Portland that fall he told us he had seen one of the most fantastic cliffs in the Cascades. We found this hard to believe, never having heard or read that there were any interesting peaks in that area. But, Art kept on arguing and finally in August of last year he talked James Millegan, John Patrick and myself into going up to investigate "No Name Peak."
We drove from Portland, Oregon to Diablo and camped that night by Diablo Dam. In the morning we caught the regular City Light boat up Diablo Lake to the base of Ross Dam. After hiking to the top of the dam we net our next boat, a sixteen-foot "outboard bullet" from the Ross Lake Resort. The weather was very rough and we had an exciting, though perfectly safe, ride up the lake. However, the huge waves made it impossible to land at No Name Creek since at this point there is no shore at all, only cliffs and steep forests. About half a mile farther up the lake, near the mouth of Arctic Creek, we were able to land in a tiny cove that offered some protection from the surf.
We spent the rest of the afternoon traversing the sidehill above Ross Lake back down to No Name Creek. Since there is a box canyon at its mouth we gained quite a bit of elevation on the way, which we then had to lose again. It was almost dark before we managed to battle our way down to the creek and dig out a place to sleep in the brush.
Next day we wasted time finding a stream crossing to reach a trail the map showed on the south bank. We then wasted more time trying to follow the trail. Like most trails in this area it was built by the CCC sometime around 1935 and hasn't been touched since. Meanwhile, the weather was getting worse and when the rain came down in buckets we camped, though it was very early.
Next morning the rain let up and we spent all day bushwhacking up a typical North Cascade jungle valley. Our total distance was about two miles, which is par for the area. We felt lucky to escape from the brush and be able to camp in sub-alpine meadows. The cloud ceiling was only a few hundred feet above us, but we could tell from the avalanche fans and cliffs that we were in the head of the valley.
We hoped to place our base camp at No Name Lake, but next morning when the clouds lifted we found that we had mistaken a tributary for the main valley and were nowhere near No Name Lake. I've blessed our luck for the Mistake though, for when the clouds rose a bit higher we found right above us the very peak Art had seen two years earlier. All the way through the wet brush we had been giving Art a bad time about his fantastic "No Name Peak," but now that we saw it we agreed—even though it is only about 7200 feet high, and doesn't rise much above the main ridge, it has what is certainly one of the longest and most difficult faces in the North Cascades.
Remote Peak
It was easy enough to understand why climbers have been unaware of this face, for to see it one must either be in the valley of No Name Creek or on the No Name-Arctic Creek divide, this divide being high enough to hide the face from climbers in the Chilliwack Peaks to the north.
The clouds were still black and heavy as we set out to scout an approach. The logical first choice was the large glacier heading in the col west of the peak. There were no difficulties until we approached the top. There we were forced onto the rocks twice by the bergschrunds. Both of these pitches went very slow, the rock being steep and wet and the wind very cold. Also the clouds frequently swallowed us up. It was past noon when we reached the col.
To save time we split up, Art and Jim scouting the rock face above the col, while Jack and I tried to find a way down from the col on the Arctic Creek side. We found no route that would not involve a lot of rappelling. Art and Jim were thoroughly bedraggled when they rejoined us in the col. They had climbed the four hundred or so feet of fourth and fifth class rock to the top of the prominent pinnacle between the col and the main peak, but the descent into the far notch looked too forbidding. Also the clouds made it difficult to get a clear view of the summit route beyond. Neither of our parties had been able to get a look at the Arctic Creek slopes of the peak. We suspected there might be a walk-up route on that side, since it is a south exposure, but not being able to climb down out of the col made the question academic. 
The weather improved on the descent and we investigated anything that looked promising. Jack and I climbed several hundred feet up the long couloir that leads directly into the notch between the pinnacle and the main peak. In our opinion, the patches of snow and the wet slabs and waterfalls make this an undesirable route. The next day being our last possible chance for a climb, we started at first light to have a close look at the great 3000-foot wall itself. The lower half of the face is steep, but the rock is strong, solid gneiss and is so well-banded many pitches that look impossible turn out to be staircases. Also there are quite a few handy ledges that allow easy traverses while looking for a route through the next band.
We stopped abruptly at the "big bulge." The next 700 feet or so is probably all fifth and sixth class, and we did not feel qualified to make the attempt. However, the rock is so good, and there are so many piton cracks we spotted several routes, all of which should be feasible for a strong party. The final 700 feet to the summit is probably a stroll, though there may be a pitch or two of climbing. Although we did not conquer No Name Peak, we all agreed it was one of our most interesting trips in the North Cascades. Dis- covering a peak can be just as exciting as making the climb. Even if there should turn out to be a walk-up route on the Arctic Creek side, we are sure that the Great Wall of No Name Peak will eventually be ranked as one of the finest and most difficult climbs in the North Cascades.
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The May 1960 issue features what is likely a Ponderosa pine cone, a common sight around Big Bear Lake where the original Summit was edited, compiled, and printed from 1955 to 1989 by Helen Kilness and Jean Crenshaw.
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