Disappointment Peak, West Face - Lewis/Direen
- Mike Morelli
- 2 days ago
- 4 min read
Date: July 14, 2026
Location: Grand Teton National Park, Wyoming, USA
Team: Charlie Pirc
Field Notes: A fantastic moderate alpine trad route with sound rock. We did 4 pitches with a 60m and goes somewhere around 5.7, 5.7, 5.6, 5.6. We brought a single rack of cams with doubles of .5 - 2 and nuts. There are 3 bolted rappel stations to the climbers left of the route, but we instead walked off back to Amphitheater Lake. There is some loose rock on route.
The last few days had been boiling hot. So hot, in fact, that Idaho Falls recorded its hottest temperature ever. The National Weather Service was telling people to stay indoors.
We opted to do the opposite.
Our plan was to climb the shady west face of Disappointment Peak. With an early start, we knew we’d stay out of the sun until the afternoon. Better yet, we’d finish the day with a swim in Amphitheater Lake.
My alarm went off at 3 a.m. in Driggs, and I was out the door by four. Charlie had opted to sleep at the trailhead. Just after five, we began hiking toward Garnet Meadows.
We both felt great from the start, chatting and laughing as we climbed. About two and a half hours into the day, we reached the Caves and filled our bottles for the final time before the lake.
There are some days when you just know they’re going to be special.
Before big mountain days, I like to visualize how I want things to unfold: moving efficiently, communicating well, solving problems calmly, making good decisions. I could feel it in my bones that this was going to be one of those days.
We climbed to the col between Red Sentinel and Disappointment Peak. The views were spectacular. The scree was not.
Care is definitely required here, as the gully is littered with large, loose blocks. We stayed tight against the wall on climber’s right, which felt like the safest line.
Relieved to be done with the scree slog, we studied the route. It was refreshingly obvious. We racked up, planning to carry all of our gear over the summit.
We had no doubt this was the best option.
It eliminated three rappels and avoided descending the loose scree gully again—what we considered two of the biggest objective hazards of the day.
In summer, this route lends itself well to moving light. Strong climbers could easily do it in approach shoes. I'm still at the stage where, if the route is 5.7, I'm bringing rock shoes. Even so, I managed to fit a full rack, food, water, layers, climbing shoes, and everything else into a 20-liter pack.
I led the first pitch, starting on easy fifth-class terrain before traversing right into a beautiful left-facing corner. From there, it was simply a matter of climbing, placing gear, and repeating.
The rock was cool to the touch and a light reddish color. Aside from a few loose blocks, the quality was outstanding.
At the top of the corner, I built a belay and brought Charlie up.
As I belayed, I took a moment to look around.
It felt surreal to be surrounded by the granite giants of the Tetons. Towering walls rose in every direction. There wasn't a breath of wind. Ravens circled overhead, calling through the stillness. The only sounds were climbing shoes on rock and the occasional clink of gear.
Then it was Charlie's turn.
He climbed slightly right, working over a bulge before disappearing out of sight.
The next section involved easier slab climbing before reaching a beautiful crack system.
His voice crackled over the radio.
"I'm taking a breather here... give me a minute."
No doubt he was studying the twenty-foot crux. Where would the feet go? The hands? The gear?
A few minutes later, the rope began moving.
Then it stopped.
Then it moved again.
I could almost picture exactly what he was doing.
A moment later the radio crackled again. "Off belay."
When I reached the crux, I was genuinely stoked for Charlie. It was a fantastic lead with technical climbing at 11,400 feet. The crux had everything you could want: solid gear, positive hands, good feet, and enough exposure to keep you honest.
It was one of Charlie's biggest alpine leads, and I really wanted to see him succeed. I think he's a much stronger climber than he gives himself credit for. Experiences like this build the confidence needed for bigger objectives.
Pitches three and four were defined by enjoyable moderate climbing, with a few bulges providing the cruxes. We were both completely in flow and having an absolute blast.
About three casual hours after starting the route, we topped out just west of the true summit.
From there, we walked along a grassy ledge to the western summit, made a short rappel into the notch, and scrambled up to the eastern summit.
With the technical climbing finally behind us, we packed away the rope and gear.
We were overjoyed.
Not only had we had an incredible day—we'd climbed exactly the way I'd hoped we would. Good movement. Good communication. No route-finding issues. Safe decisions. Exactly as I'd visualized.
The swim in Amphitheater Lake afterward was one of the best I've ever had. I couldn't help thinking how much Deanna would enjoy hiking up there for a swim someday.
This trip is exactly why I got into climbing in the first place. And as Charlie said to me that day: "You're a mountaineer at heart."
Happy days...
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