The weather grew more unstable as the afternoon progressed.  It was your classic Alaskan snow squall – not very thick cloud coverage; just the faint whispering of snow flakes on the tent fabric.  Unfortunately, the precipitation was enough for the wall to start shedding, and the concave nature of the face above us began to serve up some impressive spindrift. By 4 PM Pete and I were outside, shoveling constantly to keep the tent from being pushed off the mountain. I decided to begin work on a more solid shelter. Wet and tired, we moved into our new cave accommodations by 8 PM. So much for a peaceful afternoon of rest.  

The alarm went off at 3.30.  Ben poked his head outside, announced that the sky was clear, and immediately started the stove.  I quietly thanked god for such solid partners. After our little spindrift episode the previous evening, I’m not sure if I would have had the motivation to get going on my own.  

I took the first block of the day – a tricky mixed pitch got us on to the wall proper, followed by two pitches of moderate ice and some devious route finding up steep, rocky snow slopes. We were aiming to work our way right into the prominent couloir that rises from the left edge of that big serac. Pete took over after a while, found the couloir, and we were soon simul climbing into the steep corner feature that marked the top of the couloir.  It seemed obvious that Ben’s block out of this dead end would be the crux. Thankfully, the steep granite wall was split by a perfect chimney system. This 600 foot feature dished up some awesome thin-ice and mixed climbing that reminded us of the classic winter terrain found on our home crag, Cathedral Ledge. As had happened the previous day, the weather slowly deteriorated as the afternoon wore on. 

After four pitches, we excited right onto the steep snow ramp that we hoped would lead to the final exit slopes from the face.  I took over the lead again, knowing that a leg-numbing thousand feet of terrain still separated us from the top of the wall. We climbed through frequent squalls; one minute it’d be snowing and we couldn’t see anything, the next the skies would crack enough to see the Yentna far below through a window of cloud. By the time we cut through the final band of rocks and began the final steep slog to the ridge, I was crashing pretty hard. I put my head down and focused on getting to the summit ridge, where we could atleast rest and brew up. I crested the onto the Southwest Buttress of Foraker, some three hundred feet below the summit of the Fin, at 9.30 PM. A lenticular cloud hung over the South Summit of Foraker; a thick bank of clouds washed over the rest of the range to the east.