Back to Bugaboo

[Disclaimer: I have had several major epics in my climbing career that have taught me many valuable lessons. My epic-ing frequency has drastically decreased due to completing several AMGA guide certification programs, and climbing with a female. I empathize with the people I write about below.]

Bugaboo: (mining term) The promise of a motherload that never pans out.

Bugaboo Provincial Park is an alpine climber’s playground. The campground is beautiful, the rock high quality, and the company entertaining.

This was our second time to the Bugs. This sophomore experience was quite a bit different than the previous year. For one, it was about 20 degrees colder.  Second, we only “had” to complete the Bugaboo Spire on our list, which is significantly easier than the Becky-Chouinard on South Howser Tower, so the stress level was low.

That low stress led us to get a late start the day we went for the Bugaboo Spire. We left camp around 8:30AM, crossed a small glacier and scrambled up to the base of the route.

At first glance I knew we were in for it. Four people standing at the bottom of the first pitch of the route. Then I looked up and saw three more climbers on pitches one and two. This was going to be a long day.

The guidebook clearly states, “More people get ‘benighted’ on this [East Ridge of Bugaboo Spire] than all other routes in the area combined.” This is due to the involved traverse from the North to South summit, and then the lengthy descent.

I have climbed plenty of routes with many other parties. So long as everyone moves quickly it is a non-issue, and actually makes the climbing fun because you always have someone to talk to at the belays. Problems arise when you have a faster party behind/under a slower party. That creates a traffic jam. These traffic jams can be resolved easily.  Once the slower party realizes their pace compared to the faster party, they allow the faster party to pass at a belay ledge. It is also the ethical responsibility of the faster party to not be annoying or rude to the slower party.

The two parties on route (2 Ottawans and 3 Texans) were much slower. They started from the Hut at 4:00AM. We started 4.5 hours later and caught them on the first pitch. There were two more parties of two (Salt Lakers and the Squamishers). All told there were 11 climbers.

Normally in that situation you would just pick a different route, but the forecast was not amazing, and this was what we came to do. This is one of the major downsides to having a tick list.  We sat down and started shooting the bull with the Salt Lakers. Meanwhile, the Texans were struggling. They were climbing in a group of three, catapillar style (where you climb one person at a time). The Texans offered to have the Salt Lakers pass them, which was really thoughtful. I wondered if we could pass them too. The route allowed for that as there are many cracks that are not too difficult. What to do what to do.

That’s about the time the Squamishers showed up, guns blastin. (Ill call them S1 and S2).  S1, “Oh maaan, what are you guys doing moving so slow, you’re going to spend the night up here moving like that.” I was shocked. I did not know what to say. And so it went.

The Squamishers tried immediately to pass by climbing some other crack stating, “Well it can’t be harder than 5.12…”  Oh man, this guy was a character. In the meantime the Texans third person was now climbing and the Salt Lakers were right on their heels, as requested. Janelle jumped in right behind them. She built and anchor below the Texans and brought me up. The Squamishers started right behind me. It was the start of an impressive climber train wreck.

I decided to stay below the Texans and traverse to the left of them. If we moved fast enough we could pass them in two short pitches. I moved to their left. Built a quick anchor, brought Janelle across, and started climbing again. This move allowed us to be around them with no problems. That is, until the Squamishers came up, pulling their rope straight through through everyone’s business.

It is difficult to explain here exactly what he had done to create such a mess. Just know that if anyone had slipped, it would have caused several other people to be pulled off as well. It was almost like the opening scene of Vertical Limit, only not as dramatic.

I’ve never told anyone that what they are doing is dangerous, and they need to stop, but S1’s actions had crossed the line in my head. I piped up, “Dude, you need to stop right where you, down climb 15 feet and build an anchor so you don’t kill someone.” From below the Texans shouted “AMEN!” as they were trying to sort out the rope tangle. S1 ignored me, mumbling something about moving faster. I could not believe it. The Salt Lakers were moving quickly, and as soon as possible we moved up to the next belay ledge.

This is where the route enters a 5.6 chimney or a 5.9 hand and finger crack. The Ottawans were struggling with the 5.6 due to the amount of snow choked in the chimney from the storm that passed through a couple days prior. The Salt Lakers headed up the 5.9. We began chatting with the Ottawans, who were eager to have someone else do the snow excavating. I looked down, saw the S1 coming up to the belay ledge, and quickly volunteered for the job.

Pulling snow off hand and footholds is not very much fun, but still way more fun than talking to the jerks. On this terrain we were able to move quickly enough to get ahead of the Salt Lakers as well. From that point on the climbing went smoothly.

The climbing is really diverse and beautiful. The traverse between the two summits is somewhat involved, but amazing in its own right. I would not want to do it in a lightning storm, but who would. By the time we were heading down the clouds were growing dark, so we put it in high gear.  This allowed us to get back to our tent only minutes before the cold rain started to fall.

The Texans, Ottawans, and Squamishers were all still out there. We wished them well, cooked dinner and went to sleep to the sound of rain hitting the tent. I was so glad to be in my shoes and not theirs. At 11:00PM I got out of the tent to answer natures call and saw two little headlamps still descending from the route.  Typical for the Bugaboo Spire.

The following day the Texans got back to the Hut at 2:00PM. They had had an adventure. “Its all part of the Bugaboo experience” they kept saying. Awesome. Even though they had bivyed in the freezing rain, ran out of water, they still had fire in their eyes.

That’s one thing I love about loving the mountains. They can fully slap you around, make you run for mommy with your tale between your legs. Then the next week their allure makes you want more the next day…or maybe the next week.

Devils Thumb via the East Ridge

Only a handful of climbers have set eyes on the Devils Thumb. Even fewer have put their hands on this stone. The weather is notoriously bad there. Some climbers have flown up from the Lower 48, only to sit in Petersburg for 10 days, waiting on clear skies that never came.

Pointing Lulu north, we drove for 2.5 days from Seattle to Prince Rupert, BC where we got on a ferry to travel the rest of the way on the Alaska Marine Highway. At 3:00AM we arrived in Petersburg. The sunlight was already beginning to grow on the eastern horizon, and Devils Thumb was out. It was the start of a bluebird day. At 8:00AM we stopped by the Temsco hanger to see if we could fly that day. The lady in the office called the pilot, Wally, who told us he could go at 2:00PM!

Amped, we went into town for some breakfast and to get geared up. Taking over three spaces in the harbor’s parking lot, we spread out everything and stuffed it into two duffles, two packs and a couple other random bags. The climb would only take one long day. Regardless, we took food to be on the glacier for twelve, which would hopefully be enough to wait out the bad weather, complete the climb, and get out.

The heli flight is a really efficient way to blow 600 bucks in 29 minutes, but it is totally worth it. Like a nature viewing three-ring circus on crack, the varied landscapes flew by. Passing over an inlet, then deep forest, followed by glacier, these views fit the bill for what a Jack London Alaska should be.

After landing we pitched the tent, made dinner and went to bed at 7:00, hoping to get an alpine start the next morning. Around 10:00 that night I woke to sound of rain hitting the tent. Welcome to the Devils Thumb.

For the next three days it rained and snowed. The emotional swing one goes through by sitting still for that long is amazing. After sleeping for 12 hours, you cannot sleep anymore. Thankfully we had cards, an ipod, and books to pass the time. The rain came in waves. We would peek our heads out during the lulls, and getting out only when the call of nature became a scream.

On the fourth day the clouds began to break in the afternoon. Blue sky is so glorious after that long living in a milk jug. This far north the sun is up nearly all day, so we were able to take advantage of the sunshine to dry out everything. Ropes, clothes, sleeping bags, and climbing gear where spread out on top of the tent to let the sun work its magic.

I barely slept that night. In the last three days I had gotten about 30 hours of sleep, and now the stars were out over the Devils Thumb, I was just too excited.

At 1:30AM the alarm went off. An hour later we were walking across the glacier toward the start of the East Ridge. There was a breakable crust layer on the snow, which made for slow going, but I was amped and charged through it to the rock.

The first selection of rock was totally crap. The rock was loose, covered in frost, muddy and downright scary. I had to pick my way up very slowly as to not knock down any rocks on Janelle. When we gained the ridge, and the early morning sunlight hit our faces, things were better. Janelle was not having the best time though. Her pack was heavy, making it hard to climb. The fact that we kept our mountaineering boots on made it even harder. We pushed on, simal-climbing half way up the first tower. When the hand-holds got thin I decided to make an anchor and pitch it out. On top of the first tower we went back to simal-climbing.

The traverse into the base of the second tower is pretty spicy, knife-edged awesomeness. I had the GoPro rolling for the whole thing, so check out the video for a real “description” of that section.

At the base of the second tower we put on our rock shoes for the first time. That made the world of difference. Angling up and climbers left (south) I picked my way though what looked like the path of least resistance. 2.5 pitches got us back to easier terrain. At the gendarme there was rime ice choking the path on the ridge, so we wrapped down 200 feet to the south. This put us on extremely loose rock. To make matters worse the rime ice we were “avoiding” going this way was now directly above us. The hot sun caused several chucks to fall on us. That and we had to climb through a significant section of wet rock from this ice melt.

Once back on the ridge the terrain was straightforward. Back to simla-climbing, we progressed quickly. At this point Janelle was really shaken from everything. It had been harder than 5.6 climbing on loose wet cold mossy rock, with a heavy pack for the majority of the climb. Not a girl’s favorite thing. I was still going strong, but feeling Janelle’s fear more and more as we got higher. On the last pitch of the route, on the summit ridge, she broke down. “I’m done”, she said. She was ready to get off this thing.

I couldn’t believe it. We were literally within 5 minutes from the summit. The Canadian side of the summit ridge was totally covered in snow, more moss, and ice, making it slow going. We had climbed the route, but I wanted to touch the top. I’m a dude. I need that definitive end point where I can brag to everyone that I “did that.” Janelle did not need that. In her mind we were there, the clouds were moving in, and she had had enough.

I shouted down to her that she could stay where she was, and I would un-rope to scramble to the “tippy top” (as we called Columbia Crest on Mt. Rainier). With the response I got, you’d think I just said I was going to cut off her toes with a dull knife. “NOOOOO, please don’t leave me here alone, Mark!”

I had to make a decision. Touch the top by unroping, getting that “I did it” feeling and hurt my marriage, or turn there, join my wife and comfort her. I contemplated the decision for nearly 10 minutes.

Finally, I decided that my marriage is more important than standing on that little chuck of rock, just a little higher than where I was. I built an anchor and rappelled down to Janelle. Her hands were shaking from fear. This climb had really gotten under her skin. I felt bad. I knew she wouldn’t be talked into going higher, so we rigged the rappel and headed down into the cloud that fully blanketing the south side of the mountain.

Ten rappels later we were back on the glacier, and heading to our tent. It was too late for a heli flight out that night, so we cooked dinner and went to sleep. The following morning we woke to clear skies.  At 9:00AM Wally picked us up and at 9:30 we were back to Petersburg. Heli approaches are so cool. I want one for every climb I do.

Will we go back to touch the top of this mountain? Maybe. I'd like to at some point. Its one of the most beautiful places I've ever climbed, at least when it wasn't raining. I would go back to climb a different route, to explore something else I have not seen before.  There is so much untouched rock out there, and just looking out onto the horizon, seeing all the truly jagged mountains, how could you not want to go back.

Did you really call it, "Mudstone"?!?

The overused joke is:
Q: “How can you tell its spring time in the desert?”
A: “Cause all the license plates turn green.”
It’s true, Coloradians flock to the Moab area in Eastern Utah to make their goggle tans fade while biking, rafting, hiking, National Parking, climbing, 4-wheeling, canoeing, and RV-ing.

We had our eyes set on completing #28 of our quest, The Titan via the Finger of Fate route in the Fisher Towers group. At 900 feet tall, the Titan is the largest freestanding sandstone tower in North America. Utah is home to several different types of sandstone, all of which vary in hardness. The majority of the Titan is made of “mudstone”, and as its name implies, it is the softest, and scariest, type of sandstone.

Imagine God taking a big handful of extremely wet mud-infused sand, makes a fist, and lets the sloppy contents drip from His hand, creating this tower. The rock is extremely breakable, unconsolidated and crumbly….and we got to climb 700 feet of this stuff!

Many people aid climb up this route, taking two days to get the job done. I hate jugging ropes, and I do not own any aid climbing equipment. This led to the “decision” to do it in a day, and hopefully have enough gear to get the job done.

The waning gibbous moon was high over our heads, birds were singing, and my heart was pounding as we made our way along the well-beaten path at 5:30AM. The first rays of sun hit the top of the Titan as we came to the base of the route.

Gearing up for the first pitch I was kicking myself for not throwing down the money needed to purchase a set of tri-cams, which were “highly recommended” for the route. They work best for protecting the many piton scars on the route. Instead, I had a triple set of black diamond C4’s, a double set of C3’s, and a set of standard sized stoppers. I call this my “Im scared rack”. Its heavy, but I know I’ll have the gear when I need it…hopefully.

Pitch one was slow. Every hold had to be dusted off, tested for strength, and then committed to with a grimace. As I made my way up, little chunks of rock fell down the route. Janelle had to stand back from the wall to prevent getting pelted. I was placing gear like crazy, every 2-3 feet. I did not know if my gear would hold a fall because the rock was so soft.

Janelle hates jugging lines more than I do, so she decided to French-free as she climbed. The backpack was really heavy, and the first pitch is very vertical. The heavy backpack pulled on her while she climbed, making for a very unpleasant experience. She screamed for me to take up the slack as she desperately grabbed for the next piece, hoping it would not rip out on her as she pulled on it. I have learned over the years that when Janelle gets scared she tends to express that fear by screaming at me. Then I take offense and yell back at her for yelling at me, and then our happy-life-plane goes down in flames.

This time I remembered all those other bad experiences, and decided to learn from them. I encouraged her lovingly. Telling her that she could do it, and how much I agreed with her that the heavy backpack does suck. When she arrived at the belay ledge, I gave her space, then looked at her empathically. It worked! She said she didn’t want to lead any of the pitches, but she would follow. With Janelle back on board mentally, I headed up pitch two.

The A3 crux comes high on the second pitch. This is where I really wanted those tri-cams. With a #2 C4 cam slotted in vertically, with its outside lobes totally tipped out and barely touching the loose mud, I pulled straight down on it, which allowed me to see the next thin seamed crack up and to my right. I tried unsuccessfully to get in several pieces, and finally sunk a thin offset peenut (stopper). Now I had to commit to it. These two pieces looked horrible, and the one below that was not much better. Meaning if I fell, I would probably go about 40 feet! Carefully I pulled on the C4, then shifted my weight to the peenut stopper, and stood up. The next piece was a rusty fixed knifeblade piton that was bent over at its head. By this point I did not have many other options, so I clipped it, yarded on it, and was through the crux.

The rest of the climb was rowdy. Pitons coming half way out of the rock, 1/8^th inch bolts that had been placed 50 years ago, 5 piece anchors connected by sun baked webbing, and a bolt ladder that was missing a lot of bolts. This bolt ladder was placed by the 6 foot 4 inch tall Layton Kor, back in the early 60’s. Standing in the highest rung of my aid slings I was still about 8 inches too short to reach the next drilled piton. After trying every way possible for about 10 minutes, I reached for a double-length sling. Putting on my mental cowboy spurs and wide brimmed hat I took the sling, whipped it around a couple times, then lassoed the piton 5 feet above my head….on the first try! I could not believe it. Amped, I pulled myself up the thin cord, clipped in a quickdraw, and the business was over.

The remainder of the climb went smoothly, and as we topped out dark clouds were on the horizon. Rain + Mudstone = Crumblestone, so we put it in high gear to get back on terra firma.

Back in the parking lot we lounged in Lulu and celebrated our adventure with cold drinks, chips, salsa, and a grand view of that amazing tower. Looking at the tower post climb was a different feeling from looking at it the many other times I had seen it in the past. My eyes could trace each part of the climb. Every aspect of the route now had a tangible feeling associated with it. I had experienced that rock, in a way that only other climbers who have touched the top can look at it. This was an amazing adventure climb.

That evening I told Janelle I would never do that route again. Now that a couple months have past, I would climb the route again in a heartbeat (equipped with tricams of course).

The Big Ditch

Shortly after our pilgrimage to South Lake Tahoe, we had an engine idiot light illuminate on the Lulu's dashboard. Not knowing anything about cars, or how to fix them, we are pretty much at the mercy of the Dodge dealers' prognosis. That led to a rental car and our first (and only) hotel night stay that year. The hotel's bed was not nearly as comfortable, but the long hot shower and hours of mindless TV were pretty nice.

Four days of doing nothing and we were ready to charge again. We picked the van up and headed for Touloume Meadows, on the west side of Yosemite NP. Fairview Dome was in our sites, but the sun was threatening to disappear. We packed quickly, threw in the headlamps, and jogged up the approach trail...at least while camera was recording.

This climb is extremely straightforward. Janelle and I were on a roll, so we were able to blast through the route in a very timely fashion. Getting to the top before we knew it, we were greeted with a spectacular sunset over the Sierras. Making it back to the van a good bit before dark was a real confidence booster. We had just completed a sizable climb in a few hours!

That evening we dropped into the Valley. The Yosemite Valley is where rock climbing in the States was born, has grown, and continues to thrive. The most dangerous part of the experience is standing at the El Capitan observation pull off. This 3000' vertical chunk of geology is mesmerizing. So mesmerizing that all of the drivers are looking at it, opposed the road, so its best to stand clear when taking photos.

There are seven classic climbs representing the Valley, which is not over doing it at all in my opinion. We had climbed two of them during past trips (Royal Arches and Middle Cathedral Rock). These are the easiest of the seven, so we had our work cut out for us this time. We did some warm up climbs and then jumped on the Steck-Salathe Route on Sentinal Rock. It is known for its chimneys. Anyone that has ever climbed a chimney knows very well how fun it isn't to wear a backpack during the experience. We opted to leave the 5 pound camera behind to keep the pack sizes as small as possible. It took an entire day to get up the route. That left the night to get down. At the summit the sun tucked behind the horizon, and we dug to the bottom of the pack to get out the headlamps. Turned out, I had left mine in the car.

Not to worry though, I had brought my cell phone (best piece of first-aid equipment we own). With the dim light of the screen, and Janelle's headlamp, we picked our way around the rocks and scrubs. This descent is pretty gnarly the lower you get. At times, I had to put the phone in my mouth so both hands could grab onto the plant life, which suspended me over the darkness that felt really really steep.

Then, I had a eureka moment...remembering that I had downloaded an app on my phone called, "Flashlight" AMAZING! This app turns on the LED bulbs, used for the camera's flash, there are even three brightness settings! By this new found bright light we made our way back down to the trail, and back to the van.

The 5 day forecast was calling for two days of nice weather and then turning to cold crappy weather. The route on Half Dome is on the North side of the Dome, so it receives very little sunlight. We had climbed plenty of cold rock already, and the thought of doing that for 2000 feet made us motivate to get on it asap.

Janelle had reservations about getting on a wall that size, since we had very little, okay zero, big wall experience. Her thought was to do some practice walls to get our systems dialed before attempting it. My mindset was to figure it out as we go. These two mindsets are similar to oil and water. Being the man in the relationship, I forced my way and the next morning we were heading up hill.

The approach is steep and gruelling, up the "death slabs" of granite. The haul bag was probably 1,000lbs (I didnt weigh it, just an educated guess), and that made it a little harder. Four people were at the base of the route when we arrived, prepping for the following day. We decided to fix ropes up the first two pitches that evening. This gave us something to do, and a jumpstart for the following morning.

The big question on this route is, one day or two? If you climb it in one day you dont have to haul a big pack, but you better be a fast climber. We decided to do it in two days, which meant we had to haul. Hauling sucks. "Figuring it out as you go" is very slow. Having a climbing partner that is not really into it, because she was forced into it, does not help either. After 4 pitches we had lost steam. Each pitch was taking forever. We did the math to see how long it would take to get to the top: Forever X 23 pitches = too long. So we bailed. I was pissed. Janelle was pissed. We did not talk the entire 3 hours it took to get back to the Valley floor. Turns out, I put on my grumpy pants when I fail at an objective.

Next post will be on the Lost Arrow Spire and Round II, 2011 plans.

A Long Walk to Solid Rock

The next morning, after climbing Whitney, we drove up to Bishop, home of the Shat's Bakery, where they make the best bread I've ever tasted. We drifted down each isle ooggolling all the fat filled delights; danishes, huge gooey cinnamon rolls, sourdough bread, hard candies, doughnuts, and much more. $27.58 later we were on their front patio, filling our faces with several wonderful combinations of sugar, flour, yeast, and butter.

By 2:00PM we were still buzzing on the sugar high from breakfast. We went over to the Ranger Station to get the overnight permits and bear canisters needed for Kings Canyon NP. The disenchanted Ranger raised his eyebrow when I told him we were planning to hike the 13 miles to Charlotte Dome that afternoon. No matter, we still had half a dozen doughs, 5 hours of daylight, and motivation to get this route checked off the list.

13 miles is a long approach. Adding to the fun was our heavy overnight packs, and an 11,000 foot pass that we had to hike up and over. I think the trail could have been 7-8 miles, but the trail makers in California really like their switchbacks. The incline is kept at a mere 1% for the majority of the way. When we crested the pass, the sun was on the horizon, and we still had another 7-8 miles to the base of the route. It was a beautiful evening, so we didnt mind hiking until the stars came out. We found a nice place to camp by one of the many alpine lakes, made dinner, and went to sleep under the stars.

Leaving our overnight gear at our campsite, we moved quickly down the remaining 3-4 miles to the base of the route. The trail slowly deteriorated into nothing the closer we got to the dome. Often, we had to reroute to dodge the shrubby "ouchy plants" that grew everywhere (Im a botanist if you couldn't tell). Charlotte Dome gets bigger and bigger the closer you get. It is really impressive. We scrambled across the 20-30 degree granite slabs at its base and made our way to the toe of the 1,300 foot South Face.

4th-classing up the first three pitches brought us to a small ledge where we roped up. The climbing on this Dome is really amazing. Not a loose rock on it, many different features to climb on, from finger cracks, to open chimneys, to rock horns that beg to grabbed hold of, it has it all. And, keeping it at a 5.8 rating (old school 5.7), the pitches go by rather quickly.

Making it to the top in a few hours, we ate our summit sandwiches while we soaked up some warm Californian sun. The descent is a little tricky because you must walk down steep slabs. I can only imagine how high the pucker factor would be if it were wet, or even worse, icy! Thankfully, it was warm and dry as we padded our way down the slabs, back to our bigger packs. Now it was time for a long walk back to the van. When we stopped to pick up our bivy gear we treated our sore toes to a quick soak in the refreshing alpine lake. A billion low angled switchbacks later we were back to the van, and shortly thereafter, in bed. It had been a 17 mile, 1300 feet of climbing, heavy load carrying, 15 hour day.

Next on the list was the Traveler Buttress at Lover's Leap near South Lake Tahoe. This is one of my favorite locations to climb. The campsite is great, the approach is short, and the rock is fantastic.

Traveler Buttress is the name of the classic climb. It shares its start and finish with Corrugation Corner....we did not know this. So we proceeded to climb Corrugation Corner, think it was Traveler! Oops. It wasnt until the top that we looked at our topo a little harder and discovered our mistake. I knew the 5.9 off-width crux felt a little soft...that is because it was a 5.7!

So we went back to the base, ate some lunch at the van, and then went back up to do the actual Traveler Buttress. It too is a great route. You just cant go wrong at Lovers Leap, even if your not on the route you think you're on!

Smiley, Party of Six

“Wanna go climb a 14er with us this weekend?” I asked into the cell phone as soon as we got into cell service coming back from climbing the Petit Grepon. Jake, my good friend since 4^th grade, was on the other end. “Of course” he said, “let’s talk more when you get here.”

By the time we arrived at his place in Lafayette, CO, he was already trying to get out of his newly appointed fatherhood responsibilities for the next three days with his wife, Becca, and maintain a happy marriage. Their new twin girls were still the size of footballs. Since mother’s work is never done, this was a tough sell.

Becca is an amazing woman. The following day she cooked us breakfast and wished us well on our adventure. As we piled in the Sprinter, I’m pretty sure (but not positive) that she grabbed Jacob by the throat, pulled his ear to her lips, and said in a loud forceful whisper, “If you die, and leave me here with our babies, alone, I swear I’m going to kill you!” Then smiled, kissed him on the cheek warmly, and shut the door. You might be able to argue the logic, but you can’t argue the point.

We hit 25 minutes of bumper to bumper in Denver, which made me want to chew off my own hands and throw them at something. You see, we live in a small mountain town and the only traffic jam happens when the ranchers drive 500 head of cattle down the road to switch pastures. And that only happens in the Spring and Fall. So I have lost all patience for waiting on other cars. “How do people do it?” we wondered aloud. Our answer: Money, lots of money, and a health plan that includes dental coverage.

South-central Colorado is great. The mountains are tall, the ranches are big, and the people are friendly. We rolled into Westcliffe, where the elevation is 17 times greater than its population, and met up with the rest of our team. Janelle’s younger brother, Owen, came down from Aspen, and Steve and Melody Hanford came from Bailey.

The Hanfords worked as rafting guides in Buena Vista just after the turn of the century, and we have stayed in touch since then through various climbing adventures. It was great to see them again. We had dinner in Westcliffe and then made our way to the trailhead. Excited hunters, eager to get some meat early the next morning for opening day of rifle season, joined us at the trailhead “campground.”

At 3:00AM the hunters fired up their un-muffled four-wheelers and were off. We got up an hour later, ate some oatmeal, and continued up the too-rough-for-our-rig road on foot. The miles passed quickly as we talked to our friends, catching one another up with our current affairs.

Creston Needle is very striking. The Ellingwood Ledges route is visible from miles away, cutting up through the sky like…..something really sharp, and big. We rounded the alpine lake at its base and headed up the talus field to the base of the climb. There were already five other people on the route! I guess it was a weekend, and it is a classic route. Several rocks came shooting down, dislodged from the climbers above. So we waited at the base for them to climb much higher, thus eliminating the danger.

Janelle led Owen and Melody and I took Jake and Steve. Janelle climbed the first pitch, made an anchor, and started belaying her team up to her simultaneously. I started climbing right on the heels of Melody, clipped in to the anchor Janelle had made, and belayed Steve and Jake up. While I was doing that, Janelle started leading the next pitch. Soon we were on lower angle ledges (the name sake), so we coiled the ropes and scrambled several hundred feet.

The mountain tipped back again, and it was time to rope up. So Janelle and I went back to work. Climbing, trailing two ropes, and belaying our friends as they climbed at the same time. It was pretty cool to be right next to Janelle at every belay ledge. Normally she is either climbing or belaying me, so we don’t get to see one another very much during the climb.

At 1:00PM we arrived at our self-declared “lunch ledge” and busted out the sandwiches. We were livin’ the dream, soaking up the warm afternoon sun, laughing, and lazily enjoying the view.

The final section presented the crux of the route. The climbing turned out to be really enjoyable. We crested the summit ridge and touched the top at 14,197’.

The way down was sporty with several sections of scrambling and some exposed steps. This, along with general fatigue, brought the conversations to a halt. We made it down without any drama, and headed back down the jeep road to Lulu. A couple miles before arriving at the van we had to bust out the headlamps for the second time that day….indicating it really was a long day.

Back inside Lulu we brought forth the bounty and enjoyed chips and salsa, refreshing beverages, war-stories of the day, and ideas of our next adventure together. Hopefully that will be sooner than later.

What the Heck is a Grepon?

We had made plans to climb the Petit Grepon with a friend, Summer and her friend Julie. Summer joined us for our climb of Castleton Tower and was now back for more fun with the Smileys. Camping in Estes Park is a total nightmare, so the night after our Hallett Peak climb we went into stealth mode in a hotel parking lot.

Climbing Hallett was hardly what the doctor ordered to get rid of Janelle’s head cold. She was still congested the next morning, but hey, the sun was rising in a clear sky, and we had plans to keep. The Safeway donuts were still warm as we returned up the road to the same parking lot as the day before.

The hike in passed quickly, as we had friends to talk to. Its funny how you run out of things to talk about after five months in a van with the same person every waking hour, so the fresh topics were warmly welcomed.

The sky was blue as we approached the base of the climb and tried to figure out where the “real” start was. Often, simply finding the route is one of the hardest parts of these climbs. At the top of pitch one we felt the first raindrops, so we huddled into a small alcove, dawned the rain jackets, and proceeded to have a great time. Fifteen minutes later we were back at it, making our way up this amazing pinnacle. I led Julie and Janelle led Summer. Most of the pitches are pretty interesting, the climbing is varied, and the rock is not too loose. We dubbed Summer “camera girl” for the climb, and that was a real treat. That honkin’ camera takes great photos and video, but man, its heavy.

With a little route finding and a lot of laughs we were at the base of the final pitch, which is also the crux. At 5.7 it’s a pretty stiff 5.7 if you ask me. Maybe I didn’t see or use all the good holds, but it made me work. The 4 pitons you clip through the crux make it feel like you are sport-climbing. Sport-climbing on old pitons that is.

The summit is only about 20 x 10 feet wide. Summer threw a fit as I unroped to stand on the very top. I got a few quick photos and then tied back in to prepare for the descent. Dark clouds were moving over the mountains on the horizon, and we knew they could be carrying a fair share of lighting. Picking up the pace we began our descent.

The topo says, “Look for the hard to find rap anchors.” Well, turns out they were really really hard to find, cause we didn’t. I searched high and low on several ledges with no luck. That’s about the time it started raining.

On a sunny day we might have looked a little longer, but this was a cold rain, and we still had to get four people down at least three more rappels. So tied a cordellete around a small tree, Janelle backed it up I started descending another 200 feet. At the end of the rope I was looking at a fairly sheer wall with only a little alcove to get in. The rain was coming down now and the ropes were wet. The last thing I wanted to do was rap off the ends of my ropes, so with 10 feet of tails left, I pulled them up and tied the ends together. That gave me the confidence to lower further down and get into the alcove. With the winds and rain there was no way to communicate, so I just fed out as much slack as possible so the next person could rappel.

I began constructing another anchor while the girls rappelled. A few rocks came shooting down, but thankfully the wall was overhanging enough that I wouldn’t get hit. I was able to make the next anchor with two nuts side by side, clipped a non-locking biner through both wires and taped the gate shut (this is the poor mans locking carabiner).

Pulling the ropes is always a tense moment. If, when you pull the rope through the anchor that is now 200 feet above you, they get snagged on rocks or trees above it can be a real drag. We were all soaked to the bone at this point, as well as the rock, so climbing back up to retrieve a snagged rope would be grim.

We pulled the ropes, giving a huge rodeo whip right as they began to fall, and lucky the came all the way down to us. Now there was one more 200-foot rappel to get to the gulley below, I sent the girls down first. By the time it was mine turn, I had been standing on this tiny ledge for about an hour. Everything slows way down when you are cold and wet. I reached my shivering right hand back to my hip and unclipped my belay device, pulled up slack in the drenched ropes, and clipped in. One more double check and I started down.

The ropes were so wet at this point that as they ran through my belay device, it rung out the water from the ropes, completely soaking my crotch. That sucked. Nothing you could do about it. No matter how I squirmed in my harness the water just kept flowing, soaking the only dry part of my clothes. After pulling the ropes (with only a small snag), I waddled over to where the girls were trying to get out of the rain. Their efforts were unsuccessful.

The hike out warmed us up, and by the time we got back to the car we were laughing again. A dash of grandpa’s cough medicine and we were warm on the inside too.

Driving out of the Park our conversation was chalk-full of what we were going to eat, war stories of the day, and laughter. That is, until we saw flashing lights coming up fast on us. Busted. Apparently, Summer had not been playing within her lines, and the cop (surprising nice) wanted to make sure we weren’t some dirty hippie hawked up on booze and happy smoke. He thought we were high cause of all the laughing we were doing, but we assured him that we are about as square as they come, and he sent us on our way with a couple recommendations for dinner.

An Adventure Triathlon: Canoe, Climb, Canoe

Mount Moran is one of the most prominent mountains in the Teton Range. It is a mammoth of a mountain, approachable only by hours of unpleasant bushwhacking. That is, unless, you have access to a canoe. Thanks to our friends at the local mountain guide service, we were making good time in their canoe.

This is our second time across Leigh Lake. The first time we ventured to the base of this route, dark clouds forced us to reluctantly turn around. It was the right decision, for a wall of water drenched us minutes before we reached the shore where our car was parked.

Now, a year later, we find ourselves paddling across this beautiful lake, this time with the hope of standing on the summit. Our permit was for campsite #14 on the West side of the lake. Upon arriving, we set up our tent, started a fire, had some dinner. When I went to put our food in the bear box I discovered someone’s food and clothes in the box! It made me feel a little like Goldilocks. Not wanting to explain ourselves to the unseen “three bears”, we packed everything into the canoe including an erected tent to port to the correct site. Turns out there are two sites, 14a and 14b. Comfortably in our proper site we went sleep early.

The hour approach to the base of the Direct South Buttress passed quickly the next morning. Beginning near a waterfall, we filled our bottles and were off.

Mark took the first pitch and I followed with our huge 5 pound SLR camera. It was an awkward off-width crack. The camera multiplied the weight and bulkiness of the backpack. I had to struggle my way up it. I was so mad at the camera for causing me to struggle up a seemingly easy pitch. “Informing” Mark of my distress did not go well. It turned into a heated discussion to the point were I just sat down, not wanting to continue. I was not interested in climbing with this partner anymore. This is where a climbing partner/spouse does not seem like the best idea. We sat for a while, questioning if we should continue on or not. We decided the mountain was just too exciting to let a little marital conflict slow us down. Hugs all around and we were on to the next pitch.

The route wanders up and left, then right, then up to a scary old bolt anchor at a hanging belay. Next was the much talked about “double-pendulum pitch”, which required that we swing from these 50 year old bolts making the anchor! It was my turn to lead, so I got to see if the bolts would hold. Making it through the pendulum, I reached a corner system of rock. The only weakness in the rock angles out and up around a overhang. This pitch goes at 5.12 or A1. By pulling on insecure pitons and a stopper one-fourth of the way in the rock I was able to slowly make upward progress. A fall would smash me into the left side of rock corner.

My senses were heightened; this was a no fall zone. One move up, one move back down, one move up, one move back down. Ok, time to commit. One move, two moves, three moves, sketchy pro, keep going, sketchy pro, another move, solid pro, YES! I’m safe. With hundreds of feet of air below me the exposure was incredible, and I had just passed through a personal climbing barrier. It was an incredible moment! Mark followed behind in style and we topped out on a ledge not knowing how much more mountain was in front of us. The steep south buttress had come to an end. To the best of our knowledge it was 4^th and 5^th class climbing to the summit.

At this point the, “choose your own adventure” climbing begins. We followed the amazing ridgeline up and around rock towers exposed gaps, and steep steps. After the ridgeline disappeared we scrambled up a gully to a high point were we hoped to get a better view of what was to come, just to find more and more mountain. The song lyrics running through my mind where, the bear went over the mountain to see what he could see, the other side of the mountain was all he could see, each time we crested a ridge line, only to discover more mountain. Darkness was closing in and we had to get to the top in the light so we could find the start of the descent. The last 2500 vertical feet of terrain allowed us to climb mostly un-roped, allowing us to move faster. Just before the top a steep wall confronted us that we didn’t feel safe climbing un-roped. Mark led what seemed to be an easy wall only to find it was very challenging. Got to love adventure climbing. The summit was finally in sight. As the sun was dropping below the horizon we scrambled up to the top with a feeling of pure joy.

The descent was also more involved than we anticipated. The evening closed on us with the light of a full moon. It was a beautiful night but the descent was unending. There were a few rappels, 200 feet of additional climbing up, and numerous cliff bands to avoid. Leigh Lake was like a distant mirage; we never seemed to be able to reach it. Finally, after hours we found ourselves on its shore. The only problem now was our canoe was on the shore about a mile away.

We had two choices. One, another hour of bushwhacking, or two, pull a Jack Sparrow and commandeer the canoe right in front of us that belonged to another climber. It was 1:30am, the water was still, moonlight illuminated the whole valley, let’s go for a boat ride. We “borrowed” the canoe, crossed the lake, tethered our canoe to the commandeered one, crossed back across the lake and returned the lender boat, trying to put everything back just they way we found it. We paddled back across the lake to our camp. 19 hours after we began, the climb was complete. Tasty bites combined with instant potatoes satisfied our bellies as we drifted off to sleep.

What's That Buzzing Sound?

It is 6:30pm, we are hiding just below the summit ridge of Mt Temple. The charged atmosphere is causing my hair to stand up even thought it is damped from the unrelenting hail. Our ice axes, crampons, and all other metal objects, including my sterling silver earrings, are buzzing. The thunder started just as we overcame the crumbling black towers. The black towers were the final rock section before reaching the glacier. The rock below the towers was relatively solid but not the towers. The rock on these towers could be compared to fist-sized chunks of granola held together with saw dust, it just kept crumbing off under our hands and feet. We had to belay one another from protected stances, because as the leader climbed these chunks of rock would shower down the steep slopes.

The forecast was not ideal, but after days of looking at the forecast of rain to find each day bringing sunshine, we decided to gamble and attempt the 11,624 foot peak. It rained most of the evening and the morning was full of mist and fog. Most of the day we were climbing in a cloud, it was nice, it kept us cool. It would lift now and then to let us view the splendor of the valleys and lakes below and then quickly swallow us again. The first 2000 feet was easy forth-class scrambling. Then the wall steepened for 600 feet of the “big step” which lead into the chimney with two large chockstones, the highlight of the climbing. A few drops of rain dampened our clothes as we headed across the snow moat to the black towers. One point higher up on the ridge of the towers I glanced back down behind me and it was as if the ridge was cutting the sky one side was clear with view to the lake below and the other side was filled with a cloud.

After nearly 5000 feet of climbing, we topped out onto the final double-corniced ridge above the hanging glacier. This is when we first heard the thunder, but there was no retreating now as the decent route was up and over the top of the mountain. To return the way we came was not an option. We knew we were close to the summit but we could not see it. With a pressing sense of urgency we navigated the crevasses and ridge cornices. We strapped our crampons onto our approach shoes (light weight tennis/with rock shoe rubber) we choose these opposed to boots to save on weight. Coating them with a waterproofing product helped keep our feet dry until we were sinking up to our knees in hail/gropple/snow. Our feet were soon soaking wet. Under the gropple was a hard layer of ice, we were very happy to have brought crampons. Thunder again, “Move faster!” Going from one side of the cornices to the other depending on which was overhung. The clouds would go from white-out to slightly less white out to allow us to navigate. A summit flag…… and this brings us up and over to our hiding place. We set all metals objects away from us and decided to wait 10 minutes or so. We were just 40 feet below the summit still exposed and on a cliff. We need to get down lower. We decided to make the move; it had been a few minutes since the last clamp of thunder. We repacked our bags in lighting speed, and holding our ice axes by the rubber handles, instead of strapping them to our packs as lightning rods, we ran down the hikes trail at full speed. We must of dropped 2000 ft is less than 20 minuets. We were out of the cloud, what a relief!

The Big Move

Our last week in Crested Butte was a whirl-wind of packing craziness. We were moving from our small rental house into our Dodge Sprinter camper van, named Lulu. As we packed I had to keep reminding myself to not take for granted the fact that few women would ever “live in a van down by the river” and Janelle was actually excited about it.

The piles of stuff grew as we prepped for the big move. They were labeled; Alaska, Peru, van supplies, storage, sell, give away, burn. I must admit, looking across the sea of ice tools, backpacks, ropes, clothes, electronics, and rock gear made it difficult to conceptualize how we were going to get all that crap into a van. We loaded it all in a borrowed F-150 and headed to Ouray to wake up Lulu from her winter hibernation, and to put the finishing touches to make her our home for the next seven months. With my father-in-laws help we were able to get the van ready the following week. We are going to submit a video of Lulu to MTV Cribs.