With a forecast of a week or so of 65-degree, sunny weather in the Cascades, I knew there was still time this fall to get in some alpine rock climbing. Aaron was looking for a partner on cc.com and had the same ambitions as I, so we met up Wednesday night and drove out east to climb Ingalls Peak. We made good time on the highway, delayed only by a snack stop in Cle Elum. Soon we were barreling up the dirt road to the trailhead with the Dukes of Hazzard theme on the stereo and 24-ouncers of Icehouse in the cooler.

We enjoyed a late-night brew as our trailhead solitude was broken by another truckload of climbers—two guys who were going to slog up Mt. Stuart's Cascadian Couloir the next day. Thankfully, we had already claimed the prime bivy spots just off the parking lot, and soon jumped into inviting sleeping bags under perfect starry skies. By 8.30am we had packed up and had our breakfast and coffee.

Aaron set a breathtaking pace up the trail, and we paused only once between the car and the ridge above Ingalls Lake. The morning was clear and cold, but the sun met us as we started down towards the lake. I got my first good view of Mount Stuart and was suitably awed by its crenellated granite bulk. The West Ridge is definitely on my tick list now.

Moving well, we scampered over beautiful red-brown slabs beside Ingalls Lake and then up a less aesthetically-pleasing scree gully, heading for the notch between Ingalls Peaks North and East. Our plan was the climb the North Peak by the East Ridge, rappel the South Ridge, and then climb that route to fill out the day. Since Stuart was so close, we even idly discussed climbing the West Ridge, but such an idea seems better suited to longer summer days.

Up the gully we went, surmounting a few 4th-class steps before we roped up beneath a chimney partly composed of a weird green rock of incredible slickness. Aaron bootied an autolocking biner from a rappel anchor on the ledge, then took the rack (arrayed pimp-style on his low-slung sheepskin-padded gear sling) and thrutched up the steep corner, kicking down some loose bits along the way. Beckey and Nelson, I realized later, recommend going left of the chimney, but our first pitch was good fun and no harder than 5.6.

The next pitch was up a very short crack to a cool stepped slab below a tower, which I passed on the right. I led on past the next notch to a good flat belay spot. Aaron's next pitch went to the base of a short knife-edge section. We were moving quickly and efficiently until I led past him and struggled with rope drag after less than half a rope length. I slung two horns and placed a #2 Camalot in a pod, having stopped within sight of a broken white dike. Aaron led past me to the notch above the dike, where we then contemplated what appeared to be the crux: a short broken step directly above us, flanked by steep, exposed walls. Nelson recommends going straight up, so I did. The rock was loose, but solid holds were easy to find, and the crux move was fun. Another traverse and downclimb through a notch and yeehaw!—we were on top.

It was probably only one or two in the afternoon by the time we reached the summit, so we enjoyed a leisurely lunch, pointing out features on Stuart and looking for the people who belonged to the voices we heard in the valley below. We rapped down two pitches of the South Ridge and ditched our packs for a bit more climbing. I racked up to lead the first bit of cracked slab, and answered Aaron's challenge to do it in ye olde stylee, placing only nuts the whole way. The climbing was easy and enjoyable, making for a great beginning alpine route. I'll take Betsy out to do the South Ridge for sure.

We hopped boulders and slabs back down into the meadows below the lake, finding the trail leading through campsites and back up to the ridge. The voices we heard while on the summit turned out to be those of a couple of hikers we stopped to chat with on the way down. The sun was not quite setting as we dropped our packs in the dust of the parking lot. Dinner was at El Caporal in Cle Elum, tasty Mexican food served fast.

It was perhaps the last perfect day of alpine rock climbing this season, and one well spent. Aaron was a great partner—we climbed quickly and had a fine time bullshitting all day.