Saturday Night Live

Posted on May 13, 2012 by Ryan Stefiuk

People have a tendency to make very matter-of-fact statements about things that aren’t entirely true. It’s easy to act like an expert, making “true” statements”, in front of a crowd and much harder to admit in front of that same crowd when you don’t know something. My partner has helped me with this. She’s more inclined to respect me for saying “I think it might be this, but I’m really not certain” than for bullsh*tting her and acting like I know what I’m talking about.

We can’t all be experts at everything. That’s fine. Actually, it’s better than fine. I’d rather be an expert in one or two things than dabble in lots of things. Dabbling in climbing is tough. Climbing in any shape or form is serious business. You could die climbing.

Being a safe climber is all about making good decisions. If you’re going to make good decisions you need to have a base of experiences that help influence you to make those good decisions. Experience doesn’t magically appear overnight. You gain it by doing, from other’s teachings (hopefully they’re knowledgable and honest about their own base of experience), by reading, and by applying the things you’ve read and been shown.

The first step in this process is admitting that there are things you don’t know and aren’t good at yet. Then, through learning and practice it’s usually possible to get reasonably good at most things. As climbers we need to be reasonably good at doing things that keep us safe.

This season in the Gunks there’s been one really staggering accident that resulted in a sad and unnecessary fatality and a slew of others that have resulted in severe head or body trauma. If you listen from the cliff it’s possible to hear sirens coming up the hill and around the hairpin turn nearly every weekend. Many of those sirens stop at the carriage road below the cliffs.

There will always be objective hazards while climbing. In the mountains objective hazards can pose a real threat to one’s wellbeing. At a cliff like the Trapps we see very few objective hazards and many subjective risks. People unknowingly expose themselves to unnecessary subjective risks and cause entirely preventable accidents.

Rock climbing is changing. I’ve been watching it happen. At times, as a guide I feel I’ve even contributed to those changes. As a “sport” rock climbing has blossomed in popularity. People no longer travel in pairs, as partners, to a crag to climb for the day. They travel in throngs, coming straight from climbing gyms to the outdoors. They no longer mentor with one individual for several seasons, learning the many subtleties of a dangerous yet rewarding craft like climbing.They storm the crags, new gear and group in tow and recreate the gym outside. The measured approach, where one goes slowly and carefully applies their skills, is rapidly disappearing.

The trouble is, one person from a gym who “knows” how to lead or build anchors can expose an entire group of new climbers to the sport. All the while, that person in the “know” and the rest of these green climbers never realize they’re climbing on bogus anchor setups that aren’t ideal.

My friend and fellow climbing guide, Joe Vitti, has been thinking a lot about the climbing accidents that have occurred in the Gunks over the past several seasons. The recent anchor failure and subsequent fatality, which seems to have been preventable, has shaken him. It should bother all of us.

After looking at the accidents he’s determined (I agree with his determination) that accidents are not occurring as a result of total beginner climbers being complete idiots. They’re occurring among intermediate/experienced climbers who are capable of climbing and manage to navigate the cliffs, but are incapable of seeing the bigger, very dangerous picture in which they operate.

Rappelling or lowering off the end of the rope is easily preventable. It’s possible to make simple and redundant anchors, ones that won’t fail, aren’t confusing and can easily be determined to be safe. Leaders can be better at self-assessing what climbs they should decide to lead, thus preventing upside down, skull fracturing falls. It’s possible to place gear that doesn’t zipper out below when you take a lead fall.

These accidents scare the crap out of me. However, I’m not an optimist. I’m a pragmatist and my sensibility tells me that this isn’t the end of more accidents – it’s the beginning. As climbing gyms become more popular and more people want to try outdoor climbing the “experience” denominator decreases. There’s more people out there that know less, and I’m not sure they realize that one small mistake is all it takes to get seriously injured or killed.

The first step to preventing these accidents is letting go of our egos. We need to admit what we know and what we don’t know. If I screw up my marinara recipe it’s not a big deal. If I screw up my climbing anchor someone could die. If you don’t really feel like you know what you’re doing, ask for help. Nobody will criticize you for that. As a guide and instructor I applaud people for that. Many other guides do too.

Starting this season some of the local Gunks guides are going to be offering free, informal clinics on Saturday nights. These clinics are geared towards climbers who want to improve their anchoring, belaying and ropework skills. Joe Vitti is working out the fine details still. As details and a schedule become available I’ll post them on this site. Joe will do the same on rockclimbing.com and gunks.com.

In the meantime, be nice, but say something if you feel like the anchor or belay setup you see someone using looks whacky. It doesn’t have to be an insult and it could be phrased as more of a question. Find out why they’re doing what they’re doing and help them get on the right track.

Here’s the link to the flyer that will be posted around the Gunks -Free clinic-1. Spread the word.

Big Changes

Posted on May 8, 2012 by Ryan Stefiuk

I’m in my eighth year of professional guiding. Up until now I’ve always worked as an employee for a guide service. However, there seems to come a time in every guide service employee’s life when they feel like they know the “ins” and “outs” of the industry well enough to work on their own. I’ve reached that place this month, and looking back I can’t help but think that my departure to “independent-guide” status was long overdue.

Over the coming weeks and months Bigfoot Mountain Guides will begin to have more information about my own instructional and guiding offerings. It will not become a guide service site though. I’m excited about maintaining Bigfoot as a blog and information resource for climbers on the internet. It’s hard to find good information when there’s so much crap out there.

Hopefully this will give me more time to develop a side project of mine, Catskillice.com too. After beginning work on it last fall, it’s fallen by the wayside, but hopefully not headed towards that eternal unfinished website graveyard.

If you’re looking for an experienced, brainy guide on the east coast of the United States anytime soon, well I just might be your guy.

Who’s Your Guide?

Posted on March 28, 2012 by Ryan Stefiuk

I was out at the Trapps, the most popular cliff in the Gunks, the other day and I struck up a conversation about guiding with another climber. He wasn’t from the area and he asked me whether it was hard to get a permit to guide in the Gunks. I replied that it was challenging, and that most guides here work for one of the local guide services that maintain a permit with the Mohonk Preserve. He asked me “what about guides who can’t get a permit, shouldn’t they be able to guide here too?” I replied to him that if you are well-trained and qualified for the job and have plenty of availability you will almost definitely get hired by one of the four main services or will be able to get an individual permit.

The individual with whom I was speaking was perfectly friendly but our interchange snuck under my skin. Conversations like this have a tendency to make me seethe with frustration. Many professional guides, especially ones that are AMGA-trained, have spent months of their own time preparing for professional coursework and exams. What makes so many people think any reasonably competent climber can be a guide simply because they know more than most beginner climbers?

Would you hire someone who’s read books about medicine, but isn’t an M.D., to work on your body? Would you hire a bum to do your taxes? How about web development and programming, is anyone who’s used a computer capable of development and programming?

The answer to all of these questions is “no”. And the answer to the question “Can any climber just as easily be my guide?” should also be a resounding “no”. Why is it then that there are so many people in the United States that are willing call themselves “climbing guides” or climbing instructors” even?

Less than thirty years ago there was no formal training and certification process for guides in the United States. All guides learned by “doing” or from a mentor. Some of these guides who remained in the industry longer than a few years ultimately developed good client care skills, strong “guide-style” ropework skills, good terrain assessment/management skills, and the ability to relate to clients of all ability levels. However, there are other guides still in the industry who have not developed those skills. This is, to a large degree, because guide training and certification is not compulsory, it’s voluntary.

To this day guide training is not required and I routinely field the same questions, like the one above, over and over again. And, until it is I’ll be sounding like a broken record.

It is my feeling that, at a bare minimum, guides should be have professional training specific to the terrain they’re guiding in. If a guide is going to guide clients up multipitch rock climbs, even in a very benign place like the Gunks, they should have professional training that addresses a myriad of guiding skills including multipitch transitions, managing traverses, belay stance management, how to safely descend with multiple clients and high angle rope rescue skills. Alpine guiding requires even more training in a number of different disciplines (snow, ice, rock) and most east coast ice guides should address this appropriately by taking alpine guiding and ice instructor courses.

If you’re thinking about becoming a guide, or are currently guiding without professional training the bottom line is this – guiding requires an additional skill set that recreational climbers don’t gain just from climbing. More importantly, guides frequently take people with absolutely ZERO climbing experience into incredibly dangerous places, places those people couldn’t go otherwise. Professional development is expensive, but client’s lives are priceless to their friends and families.

On the other side – if you’re looking to hire a guide, remember this too. It’s hard to place a value on someone’s life. Why would you choose to hire just anyone, or hire someone only because they’re rates are less? Do your homework and be sure your guides are well-trained.

I’m hoping to write a series of upcoming posts addressing the state of the professional guiding industry. If you have feedback or would like to address the topic feel free to comment or let me know what you’d like to see.

Stuff You Should Read

Posted on November 28, 2011 by Ryan Stefiuk

As climbers we make decisions that affect our safety all the time. Some of these decisions involve choosing the proper “application”. How we apply a tool we have in our toolbox is very important. Some examples of tools we have as climbers are belay methods (ATC, Reverso/ATC Guide, Grigri, Munter hitch), knots (figure eight, flat overhand, bowline, clove hitch) and friction hitches (prusik, autoblock, and klemheist). Generally, my choice to use a particular tool isn’t a random or haphazard decision.

Here’s a simple example. If I need to do improvised rope ascension I can use friction hitches to grab the rope. However, I don’t randomly choose any of the friction hitches I’m familiar with. I apply the best one for the task at hand. If I’m using a piece of cord to tie a friction hitch so I can ascend I’ll use a prusik, as it grabs well but still releases easily. If I am have webbing, I’ll use a klemheist as it grabs a bit better while using the slippery, flat webbing. I won’t even consider an autoblock, as even loaded autoblocks slip easily when you grab them.

There’s a lot of information out there, and much of it should be taken with a grain of salt. The list below isn’t meant to be your final word when making technical decisions. It’s only a reference that can help when choosing which knot to tie, which belay device to use, and which friction hitch to wrap in different scenarios.

Hang ‘Em High: Hang ‘em High is a test of belay device behavior under extreme loads. There’s interesting information about why the GriGri is better than the Cinch, and also good information about how much load belay devices can hold. The article is a bit older now but still good for understanding loads, belay devices, and what a belay device should be able to hold in extreme conditions.

X-Mission: Tom Moyer and the SLC Mountain Rescue crew have done testing on all different types of material. Some of the interesting results in this link: a clove seems to be stronger than a bowline in pull testing, double fisherman’s knot holds better than a water knot in tape, Big Honkin’ Knot (double eight on a bight) is actually weaker than a single eight on a bight. 7mm prusik is really strong.

Tom Moyer’s Test Page: More testing on materials from Tom Moyer. The water knot and EDK testing are pretty cool, testing of high strength cord too.

Guide Tricks for Climbers – SP Parker tested the clove hitch to see what happens with static slow pull testing. He had different results depending on where the load strand was (spine or gate). Either way the results show no slippage.

Climbing Mythbusters – Geir Hundal did some testing to bust a few climbing myths that everyone asks about. There’s some cool stuff here including info about dropping gear, clove hitches, and the EDK. Also some good info about leader loads on gear while belaying with a grigri and a plate

Clove Hitch Testing – Testing by Dave Lane and John Yates (Yates climbing equip.) showing that the clove hitch won’t slip.

Technical Rescue Magazine – Tests of belay methods for rescue loads. Very interesting and compelling arguments for the use of the Grigri for high load belays, and for the Tandem Prusik Belay for securing fixed lines and for use on the belay line during rescue scenarios.

The Reminder

Posted on November 20, 2011 by Ryan Stefiuk

For three seasons I visited Red Rocks 1-2 times a year. I carefully catalogued approaches, route beta and descent information. I guided long moderates and climbed a lot of harder single pitch and multipitch lines. In April 2010, after spending 15 days in Las Vegas taking my AMGA Rock Guide Exam, I thought I might never go back to Red Rocks. I was disgusted by the opulence and excess of Las Vegas. I was sick of prickly, sharp objects getting stuck in my clothing. Most of all, I was tired of the climbing and the long approaches in and out of the canyons.

I don’t generally get bored of climbing areas., However, after spending a part of each of the past five summers alpine guiding in the Washington Cascades and training for my AMGA Alpine Guide Exam, I’ve been feeling the same way about the Cascades. They’ve worn me out. They just feel old, or maybe they make me feel old.

Climbing in these special places tends to lose some of it’s significance when we forget to see the beauty around us. It’s wrong to populate your memory of a beautiful place solely with route information, gear beta, and details about a tricky descent or walk-off route. It happens though, especially if you’re focused on particular objectives.

I just returned from Red Rocks, where I spent most of a week guiding a close friend up really fine climbs. With the exam monkey off my back I was able to enjoy the subtle beauties of Red Rocks. Warm sunny slabs below the Brownstone Wall, the calico-colored boulders in Oak Creek Canyon, and the quiet trickle of water in Pine Creek Canyon are a few of the subtle charms of Red Rocks.

Next time your head is down and your nose is to the grindstone, stop and look around. Remember why you choose to climb in the first place. I’m there because I love being outdoors as much as I love climbing. I bet you feel that way too. Let’s just try not to forget it.

The climbing is beautiful there too! Here is a gallery of images from the trip

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A Photoessay: AMGA Advanced Alpine Course

Posted on September 19, 2011 by Ryan Stefiuk

It’s rare for me to post photos with only small amounts of text, as I am much more a writer than a photographer. However, I’ve just returned from a trip to the great “Northwet” region (the North Cascades!), where we had surprisingly dry weather for more than 90% of our 12-day AMGA Advanced Alpine Guides Course. The weather, route selection and positioning left me with some really great images. Below are some of the best, with the nighttime shots from Forbidden Peak’s West Ridge Col being my favorite.

Thanks to Rob Hess, Jeff Ward, Thor Husted, Mark Fallender, Gary Falk, Mike Abbey and Karsten Delap for being great company on this 12-day choss odyssey!

Late September wildflowers adorn the Hogsback on Mt. Baker.

Heading up the Coleman Glacier for some crevasse rescue practice.

Sunset on the Coleman Glacier.

Crevasse rescue practice on the upper White Salmon Glacier. Crevasse rescue is an integral portion of the technical skills assessment in the AMGA Alpine Discipline.

Sunset, our spectacular rocky camp above the White Salmon glacier can be seen on the lower left side.

Sunset, our group cooking dinner under the last rays of sun.

Nearing the Northeast Ridge of the summit pyramid on Mt. Shuksan. The group in the photo is using a terrain feature, the small snow ridge, to keep climbers safe should someone slip.

Karsten Delap gaining the northeast ridge of Mt. Shuksan’s rocky summit pyramid via a steep snow cone

Thor Husted, easily one of the most surefooted individuals with whom I’ve had the pleasure of spending time in the mountains, scoping a good line down the south side of Mt. Shuksan’s summit pyramid

Karsten Delap pulling ropes on our way down a steeper section of the Fischer Chimneys on Mt. Shuksan. Mt. Baker looms large in the background.

Rob Hess showing us how to fist jam up a whopping 5-foot long crack, nearly the only solid rock on the entire south side of Cuttthroat Peak.

Karsten Delap looking for a good line to the top of Concord Tower, Washington Pass

Terrain like this rock ridge on Concord Tower is challenging to negotiate safely with participants who may not like extreme amounts of exposure. Here, instructor Jeff Ward is demonstrating one good technique.

Karsten Delap posing for a photo opportunity

Bellingham city lights, a full moon, Eldorado Peak and the big dipper make for spectacular nighttime scenery. F3.3, 50 seconds ISO 80. A touch of lightening shadows (1%) in Photoshop

A cloud bank stalls near Cascade Pass, Glacier Peak in the background. F3.3, 50 seconds, ISO 80

Could Pink Floyd have visited this col prior to designing Dark Side of the Moon’s album artwork? Forbidden Peak’s West Ridge with a full moon behind.

The West Ridge of Forbidden in deteriorating weather, a marked change from weather during the remainder of our course.

If you’d like to view all of the images in a slide show, here it is:

[View with PicLens]

AMGA Advanced Alpine Guides Course

Posted on September 8, 2011 by Ryan Stefiuk

Times have changed. I’m sitting at the saddle between the White Salmon Glacier and the Upper Curtis Glacier on Mt Shuksan on day 4 of my 12-day Advanced Alpine Guides Course. Tomorrow we’ll circumnavigate the summit of this beautiful Cascades peak.

I’ve had a pretty high tech phone since June and with the WordPress app for Android I’m able to post from anywhere there’s cell service. So, here are some pictures from our trip thus far.

Posted from WordPress for Android

Mt. Triumph, Northeast Ridge

Posted on August 24, 2011 by Ryan Stefiuk

Guiding rock, day in and day out in the Gunks is easy. You find a routine, including a selection of appropriate routes, a way of presenting useful information, and perhaps a set of conversation pieces you might use throughout your day with clients. Then you use some variation on that routine most of the time.

Onsight guiding bigger objectives with people you don’t know that well is a whole different game. I’ve recently returned from a trip to the North Cascades, where I climbed Mt. Triumph with two climbers of very different climbing backgrounds. My partners for the trip, Ron and Paul really couldn’t have been more different in terms of experience. Ron has hiked or climbed in more countries than most guides I know, and at 68 continually impresses me with his fitness and willingness to push himself. He climbs rock and ice and has backpacked throughout many of the world’s greater and lesser ranges. Paul, 33, on the other hand, has two full-time jobs, a bit of rock climbing experience and one Rainier trip to tuck in his belt.

Our trip was a last minute sort of affair too. All of us purchased tickets and booked the rental car less than two weeks prior to the trip. Once things were all set we me met in Seattle. Even our objective wasn’t settled upon until we arrived at the ranger station in Marblemount (things are generally subject to permit availability in popular spots like Boston Basin anyways). We settled on Mt. Triumph, knowing that it was new, unfamiliar and potentially attainable given the fact that Paul had rock climbed enough to be relatively comfortable with that medium. Besides, Triumph is a big, dark, solitary sentinel guarding over the very rugged and remote Picket Range nearby. It begs to be climbed and lies in an incredibly beautiful remote valley.

Our hike in, through low clouds, was sufficiently arduous and relatively uneventful; uneventful is never a bad thing either when you’re in the mountains. Arriving at the col, alongside Thornton Peak, and high above the Thorton Lakes we scooped up the only wooded bivy site, almost made our spacious 3-person tent fit, and enjoyed a bit of rest before heading up the ridge on nearby Thornton Peak.

Our short hike consisted mainly of low angle snow and steep heather climbing (one of the finer, safer activities to be had in the Cascades;) with an occasional 3rd class section of climbing. Our timing, and the choice to delay our summit day was fortuitous. The hike gave Paul precious time to get more comfortable with our mode of travel – loads of scrambling . The additional waiting gave us a clear weather window too. It had been cloudy with low visibility above 5000′ for the past two days. As we munched on trail mix at 6500′ on Thornton Peak the clouds began to break up, giving us a good feeling about our chances as a group the following day and better views of the ridge we were planning on climbing.

Accounting for the inverse proportionality of alpine starts (the earlier you get up, the slower you move getting out of camp in the predawn hours), we awoke extra early the following day; 3 a.m. to be exact. By 5 a.m. we were out of camp. We were dialed and ready. By 5:15, at our first steep descent on snow, Paul was looking pretty nervous. Oh boy, we needed to get to the rock so he could be comfortable again. By 6:45 rock shoes were on his feet and things were looking pretty good. We passed the narrowest portion of the ridge (and Paul’s most nerviest section) by 11:15 and were all smiles up top by 1:20 p.m. after countless pitches of fun semi-loose 3rd to 5th class rock.

After a snack of a little water and some dry salty cheese to negate our water intake we departed the summit and headed down the South Ridge. Looser, but more direct, this route ended up being the way to go. After a bit of wandering to find the route lower down we were back on the glacier 5 hours later. Tired, but teeming with joy and excitement we headed back to camp. Paul had pulled off what I consider to be one of the more amazing displays of determination I’ve seen as a guide. Ron, right behind him on the rope, had made it all possible with his directions, words of encouragement and support throughout the day.

Our final day had us hiking down and heading to Anacortes for burgers and beers at the Rockfish Grill. After a heady little buzz at this fine joint we dried and reorganized gear at Washington Park in Anacortes. Anacortes, a beautiful seaside town is the perfect antidote to the mountains – there are restaurants, parks and beautiful bays to sit beside and do absolutely nothing.

I am continually amazed at how adaptable people can be when placed in stressful situations. Ron was willing to stake his trip on Paul’s abilities despite the fact that Paul had expressed serious concerns about holding the group back. Paul had pushed himself hard and was deconstructing many of the fears he came with on this trip. Both of them had trusted heavily in my ability to get them up and down one very long rock ridge.

Looking back, this 4 day trip was one of my best. Not only did I have amazing partners, good weather and a great climb, but I was reminded of how unique my line of work can be sometimes. People trust you to take them safely through very dangerous places. It is precisely at this stressful place, when things might seem improbable but in fact are completely possible for a person, that growth occurs. Being the person to facilitate that growth for Paul made this amazing trip even more rewarding. Ron and Paul, thanks for the good times!

Snow Sloggin’ and Sandbaggin’

Posted on June 23, 2011 by Ryan Stefiuk

Last week I was out in the Cascades climbing Mt. Rainier with Marty Molitoris from Alpine Endeavors and four very dialed clients. We climbed the Kautz Glacier Route and descended the Disappointment Cleaver. A wild traverse across the Nisqually Icefall topped off what turned out to be one of my favorite days ever in the mountains. Our group was fit, cohesive and upbeat, and it was great to finally climb and work with Marty again. I snapped a few photos along the way and here are the best of them. For a more complete trip report check out the Alpine Endeavors blog.

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Sunday, one day after being back on the east coast I worked with an aspirant guide named Allison Berg. She’s a competent climber who’s climbed and led lots of 5.9 and easy 5.10 in the Gunks but has shied away from the roofier climbs. We met up for a day of jug hauling on steep classic 5.10′s in the Gunks.

For me, finding time to train for rock climbing this spring has been hard to do and I’m a little bit behind as far as endurance goes. We climbed Bonnie’s Roof Direct (1 pitch, 9+), Falled on Account of Strain (one pitch, 10b), Erect Direction (the best 10 in the Trapps?? 10c, 10a) and pitch one of Nurse’s Aid (whoa. heads up and challenging, 10a/b PG-R). We had a great day together but my arms were smoked by the end.

Allison Berg warming up on Bonnie's Roof Direct at the start of a day of roof cranking in the Trapps

Wrestling Demons in the Central Alaska Range

Posted on May 6, 2011 by Ryan Stefiuk

This post is also posted on the Alpine Endeavors Blog. For more guide-related content check out the site here

As I begin to write this I’m not even home yet and next year’s trip is already in the works. The gears are grinding and I’m trying to figure out how I’m going to swing a trip to the Alaska Range for several weeks next year. Perhaps I’m a bit delirious; it could be the jet lag, or the strange sleep schedule one keeps on alpine climbing trips, or the really long Alaskan days. One thing’s for certain, the Alaska Range is one of the most amazing alpine climbing areas in North America.

Marty, the owner and director of Alpine Endeavors has been dreaming of going to the Moose’s Tooth since he began climbing. This year, with a very wonderful regular Alpine Endeavors client, Richard Vlasak, interested in the trip he planned a six-day late April trip to the Ruth Gorge. The planned objective would be Ham and Eggs on the south face of the Moose’s Tooth, situated above a small pocket glacier 2000′ above the Ruth Gorge proper.

With two young children at home and a busy guide service to run Marty didn’t feel like he could get away for the eight-day trip. Five weeks ago he dropped the trip in my lap. What was I supposed to say? No?

No way. I was in, immediately. He didn’t have to twist my arm.

April 17-18

So, after a few weather delays and several airline customer service calls I left Hartford on my way to Alaska. Twenty hours and several layovers later I was in Anchorage and less that a day after that Paul Roderick of Talkeetna Air Taxi dropped us off below the Moose’s Tooth. It was almost too easy. Richard and I were standing below a nearly unbroken 3000′ wall of golden granite under the bluest of skies.

The flight in to the Root Canal, like most other glacier flights, is nothing short of spectacular and can only be performed in good weather. Paul flew us and two other climbers in under deep blue windless skies. It was the kind of weather that doesn’t last very long. One of the harsh realities of this style of climbing, where a glacier flight is mandatory, is that travel days and climbing days require the same type of weather; those near perfect clear days. Even the slightest blip in the weather leaves you grounded on the airstrip waiting to fly, or stuck in camp on the glacier waiting to climb. My last major northern trip, to the East Ridge of Mount Logan in 2003 was a lesson in patience and a reminder that much of the time it isn’t your skills that determine if you summit, it’s the weather. On that trip 12 of 18 days were spent waiting out the weather.

Richard and I set up camp and went to sleep, determined to make the best of the blue skies that were currently overhead. With a party slated to climb Ham and Eggs we decided to walk over and check out Shaken Not Stirred. Shaken is a slightly shorter, harder, narrower version of Ham and Eggs with mostly moderate snow climbing and occasional vertical mixed/ice bulges. It’s an amazing natural passage up a really imposing wall.

April 19th

We were told by another party, and quickly realized, that the route wasn’t in great shape. Richard and I bypassed the normal start using a gully system and snow ramp to the right of the route. Five pitches later we were back on route in the couloir. The detour had cost us a lot time though (even though it’s easier climbing it is circuitous) and left us concerned about the condition of the route. An abnormally low snow season combined with the early season conditions (a lack of freeze-thaw) meant that there was little more than overhung sugary snow and unprotectable thin ice at each chockstone bulge.

A few pitches later we decided to go down. The sun had begun to swing around into the couloir and the climbing didn’t match our topo of the route. In Talkeetna, upon our return from the Moose’s Tooth, we bumped into several other climbers who had been to other spots in the Ruth. They confirmed what we had been seeing – the Ruth didn’t have much ice this season.

Rappelling out of Shaken Not Stirred is a frightening experience. In 2003 a party fell several hundred feet on Shaken when one of their rappel anchors failed during their descent. Luckily, and unbelievably, they were alive after their fall. I learned quickly that you shouldn’t pass up a rappel anchor, even if you’ve descended less than 100′. The granite is almost crack- free and fixed anchors are hard to come by. On several occasions I found myself climbing back up the couloir to get to an anchor I could barely reach (remember the low snow?) that I thought was too close to my last anchor. The rappel anchors ran the gamut, from decent to utterly abhorrent frightfests that left me not wanting to lean back. Safely back on the glacier, Richard and I snacked and made our way back to camp in the sweltering midday heat.

April 20^th

With another party queued up for Ham and Eggs, Richard and I took an easy day. After a late start and a pancake breakfast we headed to a little bump on the Root Canal just before things drop precipitously to the Ruth Glacier 2000′ below. A 30 minute walk, a short snow slope, and some scrambling put us on top a little peak that probably looks quite commanding from the Ruth Gorge proper but barely stands out from the Root Canal above. Had it been clear we would have had amazing views of the Cobra Pillar and Japanese Couloir on Mt. Barrille and the unbroken 5000′ tall face of Mt. Dickey. Unfortunately this was the beginning of a cloudy weather pattern that would deposit 3 feet of snow over the next two and a half days.

With 4” of new snow during the day the party on Ham and Eggs managed to summit and avoid any slough avalanches in the couloir. There had, in fact, been only one spindrift avalanche during the whole day. This was a good sign for Richard and I, as we were planning to give Ham and Eggs a try the following day.

April 21st

We awoke at 2:30 the following morning to clear skies and very little overnight snow accumulations. Great, I thought, we can give Ham and Eggs a go. Richard and I did our business in camp and headed over to the start of the snow traverse to gain the actual route. As the sky lightened and clouds descended it began to snow higher up. With the colder morning temperatures and thicker cloud cover than the previous day the new snow wasn’t staying in place.

As I belayed Richard to the top of pitch 2 the couloir to my right (where the actual Ham and Eggs Couloir begins) avalanched 5 times. Richard gained the belay as spindrift began flowing over our heads and the spindrift avalanches from Ham and Eggs to our right had begun to fill the air around us. It was time to go down.

4 very business-like rappels put us on the ground safely. As I walked back towards camp, Richard ahead of me, I turned back frequently to stare at the 3000′ tall monolith that had just shut us down twice in three days. Richard seemed to understand that this was how the alpine game works; he was okay with getting shut down. Ultimately I would be too, but not right now.

How was it possible that we weren’t able to climb these routes? I’d put up half a dozen M8 first ascents in the Catskills and guided 1000′ of WI5/5+ in a day at Lake Willoughby this winter. The fitness I had gained from these exploits was supposed to carry over to the mountains.

Weather happens though. So much is decided by the weather here. If it’s good you may very well summit, and if not you just have to roll with the punches in camp.

April 22nd-23rd

Cloudy weather forecasts for Anchorage and Talkeetna frequently mean snow for the mountains.It continued to snow until the night of the 23^rd. Paul Roderick would be picking us up on the 24^th provided the weather was good.

Anyone who’s waited around in camp for weather to clear knows the drill; Eat, sleep, urinate, defecate, and repeat. Too little sleep is hard on one’s body, but so is 14-16 hours a night for several nights in a row. Mystery soreness appears and boredom can drive you crazy if you’re not careful.

Richard and I opted to dig a large snow cave with two of our campmates. This shelter gave us a nice, yet soaking objective and ultimately allowed us to cook and hang out in a sheltered, windless spot. We made two friends, Chris and Aaron, in the process. Rangers from Yosemite National Park, they were on a vacation of their own and had climbed Ham and Eggs the day before we attempted it. When Paul Roderick of TAT came to pick us up the 24^th he would be transporting them to an airstrip below Peak 11,300.

On the evening of April 23^rd the clouds began to lift and we were treated to the first blue skies in three days. Tomorrow was going to be a bluebird day. Paul would definitely be picking us up tomorrow.

Leaving unclimbed objectives behind is bittersweet. It’s nice to return to take showers, eat burgers, and catch up with friends and family, but the lack of a summit and “success” is a tough pill to swallow. It’s a good reason to plan another trip, dig another snowcave, make new friends, and try to scrap your way up some giant Alaskan peak.

Sadly, at 1 a.m. on Thursday, April 27th a climber, Chris Lackey, from Houston TX was killed on the Root Canal when a serac collapsed on the Bear Tooth above camp. He was most likely one of the three climbers we met in passing as Paul Roderick shuttled us out and another party in to the Root Canal. The serac avalanched routinely when we were in camp, but must have had an extremely large piece calve off due to a small earthquake registered by the USGS at approximately the same time. The debris displaced by this ice fall blew the five climbers on the Root Canal out of there tents and scattered gear all over the glacier. A rescue was mounted the next morning and Chris Lackey was pronounced dead in the helicopter on the way out from the Ruth Gorge. Please keep him and his family in your hearts and minds. It could very well have been any one of us.

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