Climbing Numa Peak a yo-yo affair

Morning dawned from a quiet Bowman Lake as Adam Cazell and I made our way up the vegetated Numa Lake Lookout Trail, eyes set on exploring and potentially climbing Numa Peak via its south ridge. Caffeine-fueled miles passed in a blur as we reached the switchbacks leading to the lookout. We said our goodbyes to the groomed trail and thrashed our way through the brush northward towards Numa Peak.

Arriving in a tranquil basin below Numa’s south ridge and its numerous false summits, we scanned the area for a possible ascent through the red and black cliff bands. We began scrambling through compact, enjoyable rock higher and higher above the shimmering Bowman Lake and snow-filled basin below. Reaching the first high point along the ridge, we peered toward the summit, not a mile away. Guarding this great mountaintop stood an improbable ridge of countless gendarmes and what appeared to be impassable sections of steep rock. Reaching the summit would be anything but easy.

A short lunch break, and we started up the convoluted ridge. Passing the ridge on the north, we executed a series of downclimbs and traverses through the steepest of difficulties along the crest. Climbing through a variety of brightly colored rock, we found ourselves within striking distance of the summit as we stood atop a pinnacle on the ridge. Carefully, we scampered along the crest through the loosest rock of the day to reach the final easy ramble to the summit. Views of Bowman, Rainbow Peak, Mount Carter, Mount Peabody, and the countless other remote summits occupying the northern end of Glacier gleamed in the distance as we soaked in the captivating panorama.

As with any mountain climb, reaching the summit is only half the battle—our car awaited us over seven miles and four thousand feet below. Saying goodbye to the lonely summit, we began descending the southwest bowl. The standard summer route was choked with steep snow, forcing us toward the middle of the face, where patches of snow and slabby rock awaited. 

The descent to reach the snowfield below was tedious, as wet rock covered in snow proved complicated for our running shoes and single ice axes. Reaching safety in the basin below meant only a thick bushwhack stood between us and the Bowman Lake trail. Overhead brush and downed deadfall tested our patience as we persevered through the bug-infested afternoon, eventually reaching the shores of Bowman, where we happily replaced wet socks and began plodding down the trail. 

Peering back at the gnarled ridgeline, we couldn’t help but smile as the improbable ascent was far more civilized than originally anticipated. We reached the car as the sun set in hues of orange and pink, as the wind blew through our hair while we began winding back to Polebridge.