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!

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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Doug Ferguson leading the Upper East Face slab on Mt. Willard on a windy cold day

Last week I participated in the AMGA Ice Intructor Course held mainly in Crawford Notch, NH. The IIC (Ice Instructor Course) is a relatively new program that is now required for guides who wish to complete the Alpine Guide discipline. A 5-day program, the IIC is designed to help guides improve their guiding skills in a winter ice climbing environment.

I must admit that I was initially hesitant about taking the course. In the northeast we’re guiding ice day in and day out all winter long. Why did they have to add such a pricey requirement to the alpine discipline? Can’t they allow guides to test out of the program, at least until the length of the other alpine programs is adjusted to account for this course (they will be shortening the other programs by a few days soon)? After all, it’s hard to take time off from work and pay a lot of money to participate in a program you’re not sure will be worthwhile.

Fortunately, all of my hesitations were dispelled during the course. One week later, looking back at the program, I feel that it is both appropriate and useful for guides of all experience levels who work in an ice environment during the winter. A younger, newer ice guide will be introduced to techniques they can use that will make their experiences easier, safer and more rewarding for their clients. Experienced ice guides will find that the course challenges them to think about how they’ve guided certain routes in the past, and how they can improve upon their current routines.

"Classroom style" discussions at trestle roadcut, Frankenstein Cliff

Most guides generally work in one area and it’s really easy to develop a routine for that area. Routines are generally good for having safe and efficient days in the mountains with clients. However, routines can also lead to complacency; One can get too comfortable if they’re not careful. AMGA courses, like the IIC, and other continuing professional development courses are important because they allow us, as guides, to take a good look at our daily routines and operating procedures. For me the most rewarding aspect of participating in AMGA courses is returning to work afterward with a bigger library of techniques to use and a new outlook on old routines. What can I change about the process? How can I be more efficient? Where have I been putting myself most at risk?I generally feel better about my guiding after participating in programs that force me to be critical of my own daily work routines.

Ok, let’s talk more about the IIC. The AMGA has been trying to fill the IIC with 12 participants. This allows them to have multiple course instructors present during the program. Practical fieldwork implementing course techniques in smaller groups is supplemented by classroom time with together with all of the instructors and participants. Having four different instructors in one place is one of the biggest benefits to the large course size. Each instructor is highly trained but has a slightly different background and different techniques to perform the same process. This helps enforce the idea that there is no set “AMGA protocol”, only good ways of doing things and not so good ways of doing things. Good instructors are a program’s most valuable asset.

Climbers on the snowy slopes of Cinema Gully, Mt. Willard

The participants were from all over the US and have diverse climbing and guiding backgrounds. Some are well on their way to becoming fully certified IFMGA guides, others are just beginning the process or looking to learn a bit more about guiding/instructing ice. Among the northeastern participants were Kelly Rossiter (Adventure Spirit Guides, Burlington VT), Emilie Drinkwater (Cloudsplitter Mt. Guides, Keene Valley, NY), Doug Ferguson (Mountain Skills, New Paltz, NY), Chuck Boyd (Vertical Realms, Suffield, CT) and Ryan Howes (Atlantic Climbing School and Mooney Mountain Guides).

Over 5 days participants are introduced to techniques useful for guiding ice as well as safety considerations for risk management. Participants are then encouraged to “experiment” with these techniques in an environment with fewer consequences (as compared to an exam or a real day in the field with clients). One difference while working on ice as a guide/instructor is in how to use two ropes so that multiple climbers can both follow simultaneously. There is no set rule about how to do this in an ice environment. Terrain and risk factors(generally speaking, falling ice is the main factor) are the only limitation when implementing different techniques from the Alpine and Rock disciplines. Other discussion topics include technical descending methods, rappel anchors and top managed ice climbing sites.

My general impression of this course is that it was well run and organized. I have the utmost regard for the instructors and feel they are the most valuable asset to any AMGA program. It seems that the AMGA is really doing a good job preparing professional and well-trained guides and that the general public is beginning to realize there is value in hiring an experienced and highly-trained guide. If you’ve taken a Rock Instructor Course I highly recommend this course as a next step for guiding around the northeast.

Last Saturday I met up with Adrian Burke for a big day of climbing at Lake Willoughby. Adrian is a climber from Vancouver, B.C. who’s recently relocated to NYC for work. Last summer, just as Adrian arrived in New York, I showed him around the Gunks. Since then he’s been tearing it up with partners that he’s met in the city. We talked during that day about some climbing at Lake Willoughby. In many ways, Adrian is a guide’s dream client. He is a solid (5.10) rock leader and experienced ice leader(WI4+) who’s willing to work with a guide when he knows the leading feels a bit out of his league.  I admire this quality in him. I too am aware that hiring a professional is the right thing to do in certain situations. There are times when it just works out better if you let someone else get the job done. We, as independently minded Americans, always want to do it ourselves yet sometimes it’s safer and smarter not to have that DIY mindset.

Well, I could do worse. We climbed the Promenade (120m, WI5+) and then rappelled and raced up the Last Gentleman (or Hairy Gentleman as Adrian was referring to it,140m, WI5-), taking advantage of very plastic afternoon Willoughby conditions. We were back at the car before dark and sharing a beer in his motel room as the snowflakes really started to fly. It’s not often (think never) that one gets paid to climb 1000 feet of incredibly stellar ice in a day.

This kind of day is also what makes the Lake the best pure ice venue in the United States. If you wanted to you could climb 4000 feet of ice there in a day and probably walk less than a mile in the process. Elbow tendonitis and forearm cramps will be the limiting factor unless you’re Will Gadd. If you haven’t been to the Lake it’s time to go. Even if the only thing you do there is gawk and gape from the enormous frozen lake below, puffy jacket filled with a six pack to keep you company, it will still have been worth the visit. Here are some photos from the day. Two of the images of the Promenade are from Art Mooney, who was also there climbing the Last Gentleman. Enjoy the pictures and may they motivate you to make the long drive up north.

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I’ve been publishing posts on the Alpine Endeavors blog for about a year now in addition to the posts I publish on this site. Below is a post that’s published on both sites.

At Alpine Endeavors winter guiding in the Catskills, with an occasional trip to the Adirondacks, is the normal routine. If there’s interest though, we love guiding in northern New England. For the second year in a row I’ve spent the week between Christmas and New Year’s up north.

I must confess, I love climbing up north. Maybe I missed my calling. As a younger climber I cut my teeth at the Lake (Willoughby), wallowed through chest deep snow in Smuggler’s Notch, and scrapped my way up routes on the steep ice and bulletproof granite around North Conway. The climbing there is sure to put a smile on any climber’s face – shoulder width runnels of steep ice on granite and seas of sluggable ice make mind happy.

Richard and I made plans for this trip before Thanksgiving. Old Man Winter doesn’t like plans though. As it began to snow on the 26th I had a feeling that our plans were about to be derailed. Alas, they were not. Richard’s flight, from Orlando to Portland may have been the only flight that landed in the northeast all day. I’m not really sure. What I do know is someone needs to give that pilot a raise. I’ve never been to an airport on a windier day. My phone buzzed. I had just recieved a text from him at about 4 p.m. on the 27th “the plane has landed, thank the Lord”.

We were off in minutes and headed for the north country. For true northerners, the north country actually begins above the notches, on the gentler, colder slopes that drain towards the St. Lawrence. It’s close enough for me though, being the flatlander that I am. 2 hours later we were eating at May Kelly’s, one of a myriad of fine dining establishments found in the Mt. Washington Valley.

We awoke on the 28th to the storm windows of our motel room rattling in the wind. While it had stopped snowing it was definitely still blowing. Our sights were set on the confines of Cathedral Ledge where some shelter from the wind could be found. After a lap on Goofer’s, a beautiful long WI 3 slab, we headed up towards Crawford Notch. According to the forecast the winds would be abating midday.

Much to our chagrin the wind was still howling. I gave Richard the tour of Frankenstein. We arrived at the Standard Route, a classic three pitch WI3+, to find climbers covering the cliff like ants on an anthill. They were everywhere. Doh! Even bad weather won’t stop ice climbers on vacation. A steeper line right of the cave belay was, strangely enough, wide open. This would be the test I was looking for. If Richard seemed comfortable on the crux we could head to Lake Willoughby the following day. Despite being only his fifth day ever climbing ice, it seems that Richard’s attention to detail had paid off; he was climbing well into the WI4 range, climbing and cleaning gear meticulously.

Lake Willoughby feels far away from everywhere. A two hour drive landed us on Rt 5a below Mt. Pisgah. Anyone who’s climbed there knows the feeling. When approaching the lake from the south you are afforded an amazing view as you round the last bend and drop towards the lake. It can make one either excited or horrified. We were excited, and after a pass or two to view conditions we were approaching the climbs. Previous climbers had broken the trail through 2+ feet of snow making our work easier.

We decided to climb “Float Like a Butterfly” one of the two-pitch WI4 flows on the right end of Mt. Pisgah. Climbing at the Lake is a unique experience, and if one is comfortable climbing WI4 it’s not to be missed. Full 60m pitches go on forever, requiring stamina and the proper mental headspace. Top things off with some really exciting rappelling and you have quite an adventure.

Our final morning together, just before the usual early January thaw, was spent back at Cathedral Ledge. After a quick warm up on the Thresher slab we headed to Repentance. Without enough time for the whole route, we climbed the stellar first pitch. It’s enough to give one an appreciation for harder mixed climbing above though – the climbing is steep with rock protection and great stems on solid granite edges. There can be no doubt, Repentance is one of the finest ice climbs anywhere.

It’s easy to get a bit depressed after great trips like this one. Where does one go from here? How come the rest of my life isn’t always this exciting? I was left with a three and a half hour drive to think about these things. I’m sure Richard was thinking the same thing on the plane, and wondering what the passenger next to him had done with his holiday. Ultimately though, one can’t get mired in these thoughts. I think it’s best to just look forward to the next trip. There’s no doubt it will be just as memorable.

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