Aid, AIARE, Avalanches, Oh My!

So I've been pretty productive as of late. I took a group up a mountain, I learned to rope solo. I practiced aid climbing. I took and AIARE avalanche course, and I almost got crushed with several hundred tons of ice and snow at the bottom of Mt. Pok-O-Moonshine. Unfortunately, there aren't a lot of pictures. Cry me a river.


About three weeks ago I was visited at work by a group of high school juniors from Connecticut. It was awesome to finally get a group of students who I was actually interacting with instead of just babysitting. Unfortunately, they were boarding school jocks and fit the stereotype perfectly. Either way I got to go climb a mountain. So after trying to get people to get it together we were finally in the van and driving. We get there and the weather is alright. It's sunny and clear but still fairly cold. The peak we were headed for, Wright, is notoriously exposed and windy. So after teaching everyone how to put on their snowshoes we got moving. Keeping people comfortable in winter is difficult. Often people wear too little or too much clothing so either way they are freezing. The fact that in a group of eight their are slow hikers and fast hikers makes this even more difficult. When the fast group would stop they'd start getting cold and so when the slower hikers caught up we really couldn't stop for them to catch their breath and none of them wanted to lead. Nevertheless we made it all the way to the top and it was fantastic. Being above treeline gave us the sun and so we were warm and comfortable and amazingly the wind was absent. This is the first time I've been on top of a mountain without wind.

The weekend after the group left I got to go to my AIARE avalanche course. I got to learn that snow is in flakes until it hits the ground and then it's grains. Kind of like people in agriculture feel the need to differentiate between dirt and soil. Anyways we met near Burlington, VT to do a quick intro of the materials. Me and another person asked if anyone knew where we could sleep without being bothered. He was in his car and I was in my bivvy sack. Poverty, does a body good. Surprisingly nobody offered a room, or a floor, or a couch. I guess we looked fairly unseemly. So I ended up sleeping on a snow bank behind a grocery store. I found out around midnight that I was about thirty feet from some train tracks as the train rumbled by and scared me out of my cluastrophobic sack. The next day was more class work and we learned how to use avalanche transcievers. That night I slept up on a mountain because that is where we were meeting the next day. Luckily their were no trains there. So that next day we dug some pits, looked at some snow, and I made plans to climb ice with the other vagrant.

So I met that vagrant in Wilmington Notch and we proceeded to climb Multiplication Gully, a two pitch WI3. It was probably the coldest it has been all winter and so when my new cohort said he couldn't feel his toes afterwards I was slightly worried he'd be losing some toes. He was alright though. Besides that I lead my first ice climb! Nothing I wouldn't be comfortable soloing, but it was an important landmark. The next climb we did was the three pitch WI3 Chouinard's Gully, another classic. This time we simul-climbed (climbed at the same time). So a climb that would have taken at least two hours pitched out, took less than forty five minutes. From now on, when there's moderate climbing, I'm simul-climbing. Either way I was happy to have done my first real leads on ice. Now I just need some ice screws of my own.

Fast forward one more week. I'm not an aid climber. In fact I don't think I will ever be enclined to aid climb except for reasons of safety or because it's too cold to free climb. So when the mercury was teetering around five degrees I decided to try some new things. One was aid climbing which I had never seriously persued and rope soloing which I had never really entertained because it requires a lot of work. So there are a few ways it can work. You can either use a rope soloing device. Those cost a couple hundred bucks. You can also use a few knots, either a clove hitch or friction knots. Since I'm cheap I used a clove hith. The one thing that bothers me is how to keep the connecting carabiner from cross-loading. Anyways, most people work into this sort of thing slowly, they learn from other people, they read books, take classes, and are careful. I decided to just go for it. So I walked up to the climb, built an anchor at the bottom and started aiding my way up. Things were going pretty well until I got near the top. Since the climb ends at a ledge there was plenty of snow which hindered my progress as the crack I was using filled with ice and snow.

At my topmost point I was slightly below a small red hex. I was trying to get into another crack system which had less ice and snow. As I stretched to clip the piece I had place I suddenly had the feeling of floating and then quickly stopping. I had fallen. I had bounce tested the hex but it had been in my head that I was pulling it in a bad direction, so that's a good reason to listen to your intuitions. So that was my first fall on gear and it held. I only fell about ten feet but even so I decided not to go back up to tempt fate again, because if that piece popped it meant I was on the ground. Unfortunately, this meant I was leaving two stoppers and a draw.

Today I decided to head back and get me gear. No big deal, just climb the ledge system to the left, rap down, retrieve gear, then ascend the line and walk back down. Now it's been unseasonably warm around the Adirondacks recently which means snow and ice are melting and falling. When I pulled up to the cliff I sort of noticed the verglassed rock above where I was going to be. Since a huge ice line was to my left I was more worried about that. As I hiked at the base of the cliff I noticed the tinkling of falling ice. Since it was just small shards I didn't think much of it. It was kind of neat to see the falling, glittering pieces. Then I heard a crack and a swoosh. Looking up I saw I was about to be bombarded by ice ranging in size from baseball to basketball size. Baseball size pieces can crack limbs and knock one unconcious. I quickly ducked behind a tree. I took a few dingers on the helmet and backpack and painful one in the arm but no permanent damage. Being about thirty feet from my intended spot I made a beeline for it. That spot being a small cave. About ten feet from that spot I hear the same stomach churning crack much louder and pronounced. I don't even look up, I just run for the little cave as pieces of ice start to thud on the ground around me. As I dive into the cave and turn I see tons of snow and ice crashing onto the ground, some pieces as large as a dresser. After poking my head out cautiously I decided no more ice was going to fall and quickly headed up the ledge to retrieve my gear while the adrenaline was still pumping. All I could say as I came out of the cave was holy shit.

Overall, it's been an enlightening week and a dangerous one. I'm gonna start watching my back more often before I get myself into trouble.

Hough I Dialed in on the Nippletop and Got My Kicks on Dix, and Ice Climbed

I have a lofty goal for this winter. I want to summit all 46 of the 4000 foot peaks in the Adirondacks. I only have 38 left. Last weekend I was able to get hit in the knee with a splitting wedge, it's like the head of an axe but you hit it with a hammer. Suffice to say it's heavy, it's metal, and it hit me in the knee at high speed. Despite the injury I went and ice climbed one of the days and managed to fall on my ass. Probably seems pretty funny, especially since my pants were white, so now it looks like I shit my pants. This weekend was going to be better. I was going to do the entire Dix Range, which seemed feasible given my three day weekend.

I have a lofty goal for this winter. I want to summit all 46 of the 4000 foot peaks in the Adirondacks. I only have 38 left. Last weekend I was able to get hit in the knee with a splitting wedge, it's like the head of an axe but you hit it with a hammer. Suffice to say it's heavy, it's metal, and it hit me in the knee at high speed. Despite the injury I went and ice climbed one of the days and managed to fall on my ass. Probably seems pretty funny, especially since my pants were white, so now it looks like I shit my pants. This weekend was going to be better. I was going to do the entire Dix Range, which seemed feasible given my three day weekend.

So late friday I set off with a very full pack for Keene Valley having already spent the previous night outside for work "enrichment". I have the camping thing pretty dialed now so it was no big deal. Pulled into the Round Pond trailhead around five thirty and was able to hike into Round pond just a little after six. I was cooking dinner by moonlight and reading a book by eight with a warm water bottle between my legs and memories of the past floating around in my head. That's right I've been here before. With my last job we hiked to Dix mountain, some kid said he was going to hit me in the face with a log. That was all in the summer but the experience tainted my thoughts on how to proceed.

The plan was simple. Camp at Round Pond on Friday night. Hike to the Boquet Lean-To on Saturday and rest up for the main event on Sunday, that event being climbing all five peaks in the Dix Range. Then hike out Monday morning. Not a small task, but not so difficult as to be impossible. Now if only I had remembered that the hike to the Boquet Lean-To was less than three hours from the trailhead. So when I woke up at six in the morning to go to the lean-o I was there by nine and was not prepared to simply sit around all day doing nothing.

Being the silly map reading fellow I am I decided to bushwack to Nippletop and Dial. No big deal, just get a bearing, and follow it till you can't go any higher. After a few hours of bushwacking I made it to the summit of Dial. The view was lacking, the summit barely distinguishable. So after a quick picture I got to follow a trail to Nippletop. It was pretty much a straight shot north. I figured I could make it in an hour. An hour later I have no idea where I might be except somewhere along this trail. After several false summits I finally came to a clearing where the summit became very obvious. It was a great summit with fantastic views of the Great Range and the Dix Range. It also gave me a nice preview of what I was in for the next day. Despite the erogenous name it was nothing special in it's physique. Most nipples are more fun.

A quick return trip in which my tracks had already been blown over and I almost fell of a cliff I am back at the lean to cooking up dinner, a nice rice and lentil dish with some carrots and potatoes. So I decided to take some fruits and to see how they faired in the sub-zero weather. Orange-not frozen, Apple-sort of frozen, Carrot-not frozen but turned to mush later, Potato-not frozen but turned to mush later. So pretty much carrying around fresh fruits and vegetables in winter works alright although if they thaw they become mushy crap pretty fast. After dinner I did all the usual cleaning up, tossed a hot water bottle down my sleeping bag and went to bed.

Just seven hours later the bladder was full and I was up getting ready to go. Unfortunately, my stove decided to be a pain in the ass and I didn't get moving till after nine. This put me at the base of the slide at a little after ten. On go the crampons, out come the ice tools and away I go. The nice thing about slides is that there are no trees. It gives a real mountain feel to things. Besides that they certainly seem faster and more difficult.

Things were going great. The snow was the perfect styrofoam that you can stand on top of but not sink in. The ice was reasonably soft. Conditions couldn't have been more ideal. That was until I got to the little verglassed rock . After the first swing I knew it was rock. As I tentatively picked around for some thicker ice only to find none. I looked for small edges to hook onto and get a few inches higher, nothing. I stretched and searched for something, anything. So now came a choice. I could move my feet up and see what I could find, thus putting me in a difficult balancing position. On the other hand I could just downclimb the whole thing. I really didn't want to downclimb six hundred feet. So I stepped up and then there was a sliver of snow and ice. Check that it will hold. Now my feet are on the crappy ice that I was trying to pick up. By now though I could actually rely tentatively on my tools to hold me. After his everything was peachy, so to speak.

Then I got to the top of the slide. Let the bushwacking begin. It took a little over an hour for me to reach the trail through the bushwacking. The whole time I was following the small tracks of an animal. Which was interesting because their had been people foot prints on the slide I took.

The summit of Dix was quite good. Views of the Great Range and the rest of the Dix Range were improved greatly by the plentiful sun. Nonetheless it was cold and windy. So after a few pictures I headed on to Hough Peak (It's actually pronounced Huff, not How). Despite their being somewhat of a heard path Hough was pretty tough to get to. Several false summits led to the top of Hough where I realized I would not be able to possibly make it to the rest of the mountains in the Dix Range without getting benighted. Exhausted, and slightly dissapointed, I turned around to repeat the bushwack.

Upon returning to the lean-to I was exhausted, but decided that since it was only four and it was going to be another cold night and I might as well just hike out. No big deal, just pack up the big sack and hike another five miles. Thus making the total daily mileage close to fifteen. Hiking out by moonlight was pleasant though. Winter is unique in it's quiteness. The sounds in my ear were limited to the crunching of snow and my own breathing. That and the occasional sound of branches snapping under the weight of their snow load. This sound was slightly disconcerting, especially being by myself. Either way I was back at the car before nine and lo and behold it decided not to start. Luckily someone stopped after about ten minutes and gave me a jump. Unfortunately, upon returning home the car battery had not gained a charge.
So what do I do? I go home, call all the people who might think I was dead, and then called someone to go ice climbing. All this even though I could barely walk up the stairs. So the next day I woke up and my partner picked me up and off into the mountains we drove once again.

More freezing, more vain arm flailing and feet swinging to stay warm, more dangerous swinging of sharp objects. My partner actually managed to kick himself in the leg with his crampon on accident. After a long day of picking my way up frozen waterfalls I went home to collapse into my exhaustion.

America's Mountain via the Southeast Ridge

Pikes Peak was a lot of things for me. It was my first fourteener, my first Colorado mountain, my first time above ten thousand feet. It was also my largest vertical gain, longest distance traveled for a mountain, and all of this by myself.

Pikes Peak was a lot of things for me. It was my first fourteener, my first Colorado mountain, my first time above ten thousand feet. It was also my largest vertical gain, longest distance traveled for a mountain, and all of this by myself.

It all started when I convinced my family to go to Colorado over Christmas. After we all decided to go to Colorado Springs I started looking for mountains close by. Pikes Peak was the closest and after deciding on climbing the Y Coulior all I could do was try and prepare. I did so by jumping on some local Adirondack mountains. Having no couliors in the east I climbed the next best thing, the Trap Dyke on Mt. Colden. Unfortunately, my group turned back because of some discomfort among my peers, but I felt very comfortable and competent, which made me feel good about my proposed route.

Fast forward a couple weeks. I'm driving through the snow and ice again. The usually deafening sound of punk music is turned low so I can listen to the sound of the engine as it struggles to accelerate. Cars, can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em. I'm also listening to the tires on the snow and ice. Tires have a different sound when they're sliding and I didn't want to ruin my trip before it got started. Six hours of white knuckle driving later I'm spending the night at my climbing partner's house. Then after a fun day on the plane I was almost there. Just a ten hour drive away. Scratch that, since I was visiting my girlfriend in Iowa we had to drive on I-80, adding a few more hours. While I waited to go though I had some fun. Went to Hawkeye Point. Tried to reach Panorama Point in a blizzard, and failed, but finally I was there.

My family and friends were not quite as excited about my plans. Despite trying to calm all feelings of fear there was little I could say to assuage such fears. They feared I would be too cold, I would fall, I would be mauled by a mountain lion (the warnings at the trail head didn't help), they feared that I would get lost, die, that I would not return.

Despite this I was still excited. I felt prepared and the night before I was to leave I got some helpful information about the weather. Unfortunately, the weather didn't make my proposed route look like a fun or viable option. Likely avalanche hazard and unpleasant post holing dissuaded me from the Y coulior and instead I decided to head up the Barr Trail.

As morning came I double checked my gear and jammed it in the car.
30 minutes later we were at the trail head. The family decided to follow me up a few switchbacks. After about two they were done and decided to head back to the car. Then I was alone.

Welcome to the longest day on the Barr Trail ladies and gentleman. The name of the game here is Switchbacks. During no point during the first mile did I do anything except go back and forth. As the sun began to rise, so did I above the Manitou and Colorado Springs. Despite the monotony of the switchbacks I felt noticeable progress. After passing a few hikers I felt considerably alone. Alone with my thoughts I started to sing to myself. For some reason Katherine Bates' "America the Beautiful" came into my head. After passing under the rock arch and getting to what Roache describes as the second section of the Barr Trail I was able to push the song out of my head simply because I was thinking about what a Hansel & Gretel forest would looked like.

For some reason it wasn't that scary. Checking how fast I was moving it was a quick two mph. Maybe I could get to the top in a day. Oh how foolish I was.

I took a quick break in the quaint forest to go to the bathroom and to rub my aching back. I sat wondering why I put myself through considerable physical pain just to get to the top of a pile of rocks? Since I had a schedule to keep I ignored that thought and the pain and moved on. A surprisingly short while later I found myself at Barr Camp. What a welcome respite. The caretaker was very caring as she invited me inside. After a quick bite to eat I bid the people at Barr Camp goodbye. Moving quickly I passed two women who told me they had broke trail for two miles past Barr Camp. They said if I was determined I could make it. Buoyed by the thought that I could top out in a day I continued to press on.

As I came to the end of the women's tracks I found that my second wind was a while ago and that I might be running out of steam. After an exhausting hour of breaking trail I was beginning to wonder where the hell the A-frame was so I could just stop for the day. As I stopped to rest there was all of a sudden a man behind me. Came out of nowhere! He asked if I would like him to take over and I graciously accepted. Then he was gone. Never did I think someone could move so quickly post holing through the snow. I continued to push on and after several times of questioning my will to push forward I came to the A-frame and one of the longest feeling days in a long time.
First things first I tried to start my stove. As I pumped the fuel pump it simply would not push air into the fuel bottle. A small bit of fuel spewed into the priming cup and after priming I turned the flame control and to my surprise the stove simply sputtered. I tried pumping but it would not pump and eventually the stove went out as my water went unboiled. I took the entire stove apart and could find no problems. For the second time in my life I cursed the stupid stove. Why is it that whenever I try to push myself something gets in my way to make it more difficult? After several more tries I gave up. Looking at the meager ration of water I put several handfuls of GORP in my mouth and swallowed the rest of my water.

Slipping into my sleeping bag and bivy sack I resigned myself to the fact that I would be in for an uncomfortable night. For the rest of the night I awoke to cotton mouth and muscle cramps. So I played the clock watching game. First, I woke up at nine. Then, I woke up at two. Then, at four and finally my watch went off at six and I sat up. Gathering my things I decided I'd let urine color be the go, no-go decider. With only two liters the day before I thought for sure that I'd be in the brown and be heading back down. Amazingly, it was bright yellow and so away I went. The lessons I learned was to always bring more than one pump and to bring other sources of purification (the streams nearby were not completely frozen).
Awaking slightly before the sun I decided to watch it rise before I set off for the summit. I decided to cross the gully to start ascending the southeast ridge. The caretaker had said that the best route to the summit would be on the south side of the gully to avoid the cornice at the top.

This put me on the southeast ridge for the remainder of the ascent. While mostly first class with bits of second class and some snow to plow through the difficulty was not technical. Each step became a struggle upward. While my muscles were perfectly willing to speed up, my lungs were not, but I persisted. Slowly, and with great difficulty I continued. Every time I looked up I could see I was closer. After three hours I finally came to the top of the ridge right near the cog tracks. A few more minutes and I was there. Again I was alone. Despite seeing the cog train ascend a little while ago I did not think to try the door to the summit house. After a short time I decided to head back down.

The knee-jarring descent was arduous and it was quickly wearing on me. Half way down as the angle of the gully lessened I decided to glissade down the wind harden slab. Despite the bruising of my ass it saved me at least an hour and was far more pleasant to my knees. Reaching tree line I began to descend towards the trail head and sweet, sweet water.

I decided to try my cell phone to let my family know to come get me. For some reason it worked and low and behold they were on their way to the summit. By this time I was already past the A-frame and I told them I would not go back to the top. instead they said I could meet them at Mountain View and catch the cog the rest of the way down. Unfortunately it was past one and I was still just past the A-frame, a good distance from Barr Camp. I practically ran down the trail, determined to save myself the six miles past Barr Camp I would have to walk. As I booked it down the trail I made it to Barr Camp in approximately an hour from the A-frame. Stopping briefly to get info on how to get to Mountain View from the caretaker and finally having someone to share my triumph with I hurriedly walked towards Mountain View. After burning up the trail there in less than half an hour I realized I was incredibly early. So I waited. Then I waited some more. Finally the time of arrival had passed. After ten minutes I wondered if it was ever going to come. Then there it was slowly rolling down the hill. As it pulled to a stop the people in the passing windows pointed at me. Stepping on to the train I hugged my mother and people around us clapped. It was the most unique welcome back from a mountain I've ever received. My father handed me a liter of water which I quickly chugged and then a bag of chips which I quickly devoured and finally let the success and exhaustion take over.