Higher Dreams

Seth

2010-11-10T12:16:00.004-09:00

I've put off writing about this for as long as I can.
On August 24th, 2010, Seth Holden died in a plane crash with Brandon Reilly. He had texted me earlier in the evening, saying he'd climbed Summit Peak in Girdwood with our friend Ben. He seemed really excited about it and in the later photos, it was apparent he had enjoyed it greatly. When the plane crashed at around 7:45 PM, the late August sunset painted the sky in a spectrum of oranges and reds, pinks and purples. It was beautiful.

Seth was many things to me. He was my most continuous climbing partner. I looked up to him in certain aspects, from his nonchalant attitude to his work ethic and quiet demeanor. His impeccable outdoor knowledge spanned the spectrum from climbing and skiing to hunting, fishing and extreme survival skills. When I first met Seth, I was far from calling myself a climber. Seth had already climbed Denali, completed numerous big wall routes in Yosemite, endured week-long ski winter traverses, scaled volcanoes in South America, alpine routes in Chamonix, the Ruth Gorge, Cascades, Chugach and beyond. I finally mustered up the courage one day to invite him on a climb of North Suicide, a mere winter peak bagging trip for him but a test-piece for me at the time. It was fun then, over the next few years to gage my increasing skills next to Seth. As I gained experience I began to see myself as Seth's equal on the rope and that brought me endless amounts of pride.

Seth and I went on to share five serious trips to the Alaska Range in three years. Together we attempted the Mooses Tooth, a bold winter ascent of Peak 11.300 and three trips to the Revelation Mountains. It was in our cherished Revelations where Seth and I melded the best. Here, in a remote and mostly uncharted range, we stood under tremendous unclimbed peaks. Here we were reliant solely upon each other. It was in the Revelations where I think we both shared some of the happiest moments of our lives. Seth and I completed two first ascents and attempted countless others.
On the last climb we ever did together, we attempted the South Ridge of the Angel in the Revelations. The route had been attempted 43 years earlier by Dave Roberts, but remained unclimbed. We trained together, analyzed grainy black and white photographs, memorized it's lone trip report and kept each other motivated. When we finally got on the Angel in early June of 2010, we had already waited for 12 days to fly into the range and had been swatted back on another of our obsessions, the unclimbed Mount Mausolus. But, on this day, Seth and I both found that rare type of perfection that a climber always seeks. We had perfect weather and a beautiful, complex route ahead of us. We climbed fast and with a zeal that I have experienced on only a handful of occasions. We made it half way up the route in about six hours, but had to turn for lack of appropriate gear for a small section of aid. We intended to get back on the route the following day, but it quickly became apparent that we were out of time, since our runway was becoming spotted with rocks as the snow melted in front of our eyes. With much disappointment, we looked up at the ridge from our base camp with a promise to complete it as soon as possible. I still remember how Seth hooted and screamed in elation, something very surprising coming from a usual quiet person. I smile still, knowing that we both agreed that it was the single best day of climbing either of us had ever had. I feel lucky to have shared that time with Seth.
Seth was a fighter and survivor. A close friend said “if you just gave Seth a chance he could survive anything.” Sadly on this occasion, he didn't even have a fighting chance.

I miss the way he tossed his head back when he laughed. I miss the times we spent sitting under massive unclimbed mountains, pondering their seemingly impenetrable defenses. I miss scouring over maps and photos, plotting our next adventure which was never far off whether it be in the Chugach mountains, Yosemite valley or the Alaska range. I miss the comfort of knowing that he was keeping me safe. Most of all though, I just miss my friend. Seth was the best partner I've ever had. How do you replace something like that? I really, really miss him, and will carry his memory with me forever.

Revelations Climbing Video

2010-06-15T15:59:00.004-08:00

Here is a short little video I put together from my helmet cam footage from the Revelations. This is from our attempt on the south ridge of the Angel. Seth and I made fast time up the ridge, climbing above 8,000' on the mountain in about six hours. We hit a massive gendarme with a thin seam that would require aiding. We lacked enough small gear to get through it so we descended with the intention of getting right back on the route.

Insanely hot conditions were melting out the glacier (and the runway for the pilot) at an incredible rate. It no longer even froze at night. Tragically we were had to cut our trip short due to the disappearing runway, and we did not get to complete the route.

I guess that means we get to go back next year...

Enjoy!

You may watch it in a larger format here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N8poGLPVxtE

Reoccurring Revelations and Reconnoiterings

2010-06-01T09:22:00.011-08:00

A beautiful pinnacle just above basecamp.

Another spring has begun, another trip to the rugged Revelation mountains has come to an end. Seth and I ran into more problems this year than we had in previous trips, but overall everything went smooth.

After waiting to fly in for five days in Anchorage, Seth and I finally got in the air with Joe Schoester of Sportsman Air Service. As we flew in, Andrew McClain and friends were flying out after spending nearly two weeks skiing steep couloirs in the tightly contoured range.

Weather was marginal for our chosen destination and, intent on staying to our fixed plan, we spent the next SEVEN DAYS waiting at Rob Jones' lodge on the Big River. We made no fewer than three attempts to land on a small pocket glacier, thwarted by high winds, low visibility, flat light and a malfunctioning Super Cub. YIKES! Perhaps I was just having to cash in on a little weather karma I've built up over the last few years.

We had plenty of time in the first week to become quite good at Sudoku.

We FINALLY made it out after a total of 12 days of waiting, and none too soon! Our chosen preliminary objective was a massive horrific 4,300-foot face on an unclimbed 9,000-foot peak. We spent the first several days at camp contemplating the route, conditions and our sanity. This peak was M-E-A-N! To our best knowledge, this peak had only been attempted once in the mid 1990s. No one had ever even seen the peak from our chosen side. It has been described as a "hopeless labyrinth" and "perhaps the toughest climb in the range." From the looks of it both descriptions were spot on.

A view of our first objective from camp. Our main route is hidden from view.

The mercury skyrocketed in the day, causing massive melt-freeze cycles and cataclysmic avalanches throughout the late morning to late evening. Our supposed route could indeed be classified as a "death line." We stopped counting after 250 avalanches ripped down every part of the mountain in one afternoon. A crescendo of rockfall and roaring snow echoed off the valley's surrounding walls.

On one of the last nights where it actually dropped below freezing, we climbed 2,000-feet up the face before calling it. A narrow slot with great looking climbing arched above to the summit, but the mountain was simply too active. Anything that came off the upper slopes would barrage us without fail. It seemed we were just a few days too late in the season.

Seth climbing up the lower couloir of the west face of the unclimbed 9000-foot peak.

With that we shipped out to the main spine of the Revelations, landing at about 5,300-feet on the narrow rock infested glacier. We set our sites immediately to the unclimbed south ridge of the Angel. In 1967, Dave Roberts attempted the ridge, stopping some 700-feet below the summit. Food was running low and the glacier was melting faster than a snow cone in the Sahara.

The first morning we skied up to the base of the Angel, then scouted some other monoliths farther down glacier. By 6:30 the next morning we were kicking steps up to the Angel.

The climbing on the Angel could only be described as jaw-droppingly sublime. I led the first block of pitches, where we simulclimbed roughly 600-feet of terrain up to 5.8. An amazing little 5.8 chimney led to the first major gendarme which was passed by lowering off a hex. Several more great 5.7/5.8 moves led to another shorter simulclimbing block. The climbing was continuously incredible, the coarse alpine granite was perfect. Hoots and hollers echoed off a 7,900-foot peak called the Hydra as we continued up. Seven hours in, we came to a large drop-off and a pinnacle leading to a massive gendarme at about 8,100-feet. It looked doable but not without a little bit of aid.

Drenched with sweat due to the heat and with a long and complicated descent ahead of us, we decided to cash in for the night and start our rappels. We were eager to get back to camp and give it another shot with a few more key pieces of gear.

After some downclimbing and a rather heinous series of eight rappels over rope-eating flakes, we touched down on the glacier. Our descent went down the ridge before dropping into a slot we called the Black Gully. For the first time on the mountain we encountered poor rock that made rappel anchors hard to come by.

Seth Rappelling off of the Angel.

It remained extremely warm after that and never really dipped below freezing again. Destitute but determined to nab a first ascent of something, we attempted a route on the unclimbed South Horseman, only to get turned by nasty snow, ice and rockfall conditions. Next we faintly tried a route on an unclimbed 8,100-foot peak by the terrifying Golgotha. That too ended in deep snow avalanche-threatening snow. Later on in the day we returned to see that a natural slide had wiped out our tracks up the first few hundred feet of the route we had climbed.

The mountains seemed to be telling us we weren't welcome anymore and our food was down to almost nothing. What small patches of snow had served as our pilot's runway a week ago were melting out to blue ice and rocks by the hour.

Quite bummed about not getting to have another serious crack at the Angel, we packed up our stuff. The next day we hiked 18-miles down the Revelation Glacier to the Big River and Rob Jones' lodge.

A C-130 on a pleasure cruise down the Revelation Glacier

While we had to walk away empty handed this time, I feel we made some really good choices in tough situations.

However, in Dave Robert's book On the Ridge Between Life and Death he says:

From the vantage point of middle-aged nostalgia for meteoric youth, it is hard to congratulate yourself for prudence rather than for boldness. I still think Matt and I made the right decision on August 28, 1967. Yet of all the regrets I have about my years in the mountains, in terms of sheer simple “what-might-have-been” - even more than the pang of not accompanying Rick and Art to the top of Kichatna Spire – letting the Angel slip through our fingers when we were within 700 feet of the summit on a perfect day still stings the sharpest.

Throughout the entire walk out, on the flight back to Anchorage and especially now, situated in the many comforts of urban life I can say only one thing. I know exactly how he feels! We will be back soon.

More pictures available here

Thanks to the McNeill-Nott Award and Alpine Adventure Grant for making this trip possible!

Urban climbing

2010-05-03T13:43:00.002-08:00

The past few weeks have been very busy. I've been working almost every day and have had little time to venture into the mountains.

Still, we have been preparing for our trip and are hoping to leave this Wednesday. It's down the to final hour!

It was quite impressive to see this video of some Brits making a daunting first ascent. It was very inspiring and I'm already scoping an almost certain virgin line up Spenard Avenue.

Skiing the North Face of Pioneer

2010-04-11T11:10:00.022-08:00

Pioneer Peak in late spring conditions

For years I have wanted to climb Pioneer Peak's North Face, which rises 6300' directly from the road. Not only is the approach...wait...cut that. There is no approach. Repeat: there is NO approach. Cross the road, start climbing...approach done. Did I mention that there is NO approach?!?!?!

There seems to be a short window every April where avalanche conditions are stable and the snow is firm enough to climb and occasionally ski.
I had heard of many different ways of it being climbed. Some people told of pitching out ice lines, others brought a rope but only used it in a few spots, others brought an ice axe and nothing else.

Driving by it two weeks ago I knew I had to climb it this year. Plus, it would be great training for the upcoming trip to the Revelations. It just had to settle for another week or so and it would be primo!

Then I saw that Ryan Hokanson had skied it solo in an afternoon. The thought of skiing it had never really appeared as a feasible option in my head, but...I'm not afraid to jump off into the deep end right off the bat.

It turns out Pioneer is loaded with much more snow than usual and it was in great skiing conditions. So after a few repetitions of liquid courage one night, I decided I had to do it! A friend of a friend named Eric from Crested Butte, Colorado would be my partner in crime. Eric is a rippin' tele-skier who has packed a shit ton of skiing into a two-week vacation to Alaska. I figured Pioneer Peak would be the perfect send-off.

On Friday we drove out under absolutely stellar blue skies, moderate temps and high hopes. It was surprising to instantly see that we were not alone on the North Face. We quickly saw that not one but TWO parties were ahead of us. Lucky us...we had a great skin track and boot pack all the way up!

We passed the first team after an off-route double-black diamond alder schwack suffer-fest that only Alaska could deliver. Not only were there other teams on the route, but low and behold, I knew both of them. Brian and Joe made it to about 3500' before turning, but it was great to see them up there. We eyed the other team ahead of us, kicking a stairway to the summit.

Kevin rocking upper couloir

Eric and Cody contemplate the drop-in

When we got to the summit, low and behold, we knew the other dudes. It was Cody and Kevin, Small world! We enjoyed beautiful views all the way around then watched as Kevin started the ski train down the initial 55-degree couloir. We skied off the summit (mostly side slipping the first icy chute) then cut great turns all the way down the snowfield into the sun. Several rocky cliffs were navigated and we skied the final 3000' avalanche chute down to the car. Then we made the long walk across the street to our car and hit up some delicious burgers at the Longbranch Saloon.

Replicating Ryan Hokanson's signature top of the couloir shot!

Eric staring down a 6000' descent

All smiles!

A Longbranch burger never tasted so good!

Needless to say, it was probably one of the best ski runs I've ever done and I think Eric would agree!

Thanks to Ryan Hokanson for the stoke and Kevin and Cody for the stairway to the top!

More pics: HERE!

Self-Visualization

2010-04-05T20:25:00.001-08:00

In preparation for our upcoming trip to the Revelations this spring, I have been practicing the process of self-visualization. It has been very interesting to work out, repeat and refine this mental rehearsal process.

I remember my step-dad talking to me about self-visualization when I played baseball as a kid. He tried to get me to rehearse the process of watching the pitch, following the ball and connecting all the way through with my bat. While I was never a great batter, I always found the process to be very intriguing.

Years ago when I first started learning about alpine climbing I picked up Mark Twight's book, Extreme Alpinism. He dedicates a portion of the book to visualization. In it he says "visualization presupposes a belief in your ability to achieve a goal."

Trying to read and understand an unknown mountain, route or path is in some ways an aspect of visualization but I think it falls more under the category of planning.
Our upcoming expedition into the Revelations is stacked with some pretty heavy objectives. Seth and I have been putting our time in under the weights and we feel physically strong. For the past month though, I have been trying to perform a daily ritual of self-visualization of our intended climbing route, from start to finish.

Usually well before work, while enjoying a morning cup of coffee i will put on some non-distracting music and lay on the couch. Then I close my eyes and focus purely on the climb and the mountain. I try to visualize and feel everything...the cold, my breathing, the weight of my pack, snow crystals forming on my face. I try and imagine timeframes for different conditions...how fast will I be able to get to the first alcove if the snow is firm and fast? What if it is deep? How will that change our outcome? Where will the cruxes be and how will I feel when I get to them? Then I try to visualize myself climbing fast, strong and confidently, observing from both the first and third person perspectives. In my head I can look down from half way up a mountain that I have never even touched.

In my self-visualization process (which can range from five minutes to well over an hour), I try to focus only on success. I do not stop until I have successfully completed a positive visualization.

In my head I have already climbed our intended route a thousand times. I can close my eyes and see a burned in picture of our route. I remember where critical rocks and snow gullies are. I feel 'more' comfortable with our mission.

That said, I still have fear and apprehension. I dream about our climb all the time. There is definitely something to be said about the practice of self-visualization. While it didn't make me hit a baseball any better as a kid, I am quite confident that it has prepared me to approach our upcoming climb with more familiarity and a measure of mental fortitude that I have not had on previous endeavors. Some of these times have suddenly become so intense that they feel like a vivid dream. It has been a unique approach to climbing that I've never explored before. I have no doubt that it will make me more comfortable, familiar and most of all, confident on our upcoming climbs in the Revelations.

Spring Ain't Far Away!

2010-03-02T10:19:00.007-09:00

Spring ain't far away. And that can mean only one thing...climbing in "The Range!"

The whole intense training aspect of climbing has always been something I've more or less taken lightly. A little weight lifting here, some mountain hiking there, throw in some overnight climbs, lots of ice climbing and pulling on plastic and that's about it.

As I progress as a climber (see: get beat like a redheaded stepchild in Yosemite, snow turtle up 11,300 in a winter snow pack, and wish I had a little more endurance on day three)...I start to see the importance of a higher level of intensity training.

Lucky me! This year a trainer from the Alaska Rock Gym started doing a type of mountain training class twice a week. Now I've done plenty of Mountain Athlete's workouts before, the high intensity circuit training meant to tax the body. It's a lot of mid-to-high rep, high set work outs done in a mostly rapid time frame. See: you end up throwing up in your mouth on occasion.

The difference between my own personal workouts and the ones put on by Mike Barcom of ARG is huge. See: I'm lazy and weights are heavy. If I do the workout on my own it's easy to take an extra 10-15 seconds and catch a few breaths. When Mike is coaching and you're trying to keep up with some guy next to you, you get a momentum that is hard (for me anyways) to achieve solo.

So it's been about five weeks since I've started the group workouts and I can confidently say that I am feeling significantly stronger. In the next five weeks I will step it up significantly, throwing in more and more cardio before tapering off. After all, We fly out to the Revelations in a mere six weeks.

On that note...

I am absolutely stoked out of my frickin' mind to announce that Seth and I just received the 2010 McNeill-Nott Award. The committee awarded us a grant in the ungodly generous amount of $2000. Words cannot even begin to express our gratitude!

Without the support of grant programs like this and others, all under the American Alpine Club, there is no way we would be able to afford to pursue our dreams in remote areas.

For more information on the grant programs offered by the American Alpine Club, please visit their website: American Alpine Club Grant Program.

Yosemite v2.0 - Red Rocks - Joshua Tree

2009-12-01T16:17:00.017-09:00

Days are short. Nights are cold. Sarah Palin has a new book out. These are desperate times. Times not to be reveled in.

Let us remember fonder days. Steep granite. The aroma of Manzanitas. Sarah Palin out of the headlines.

In mid October while getting my rock on in Yosemite, a massive torrent befell upon us. The majority fled to the safety of bars and other nefarious hideouts, while other brave souls took the tempest head on and remained in Camp 4. The papers proclaimed it "the worst storm in 50 years," perhaps they weren't too far off.

Fattened up from five days of Gramma Kluberton's cooking, I returned to the Valley with a fellow named Keegan. We promptly set out to experience the classic Serenity Crack-Sons of Yesterday. Tragically, we were beat out by a hoard of other climbers and only climbed Serenity Crack.

Hanging out under the great Muir Tree

Next we aimed our eager hands and Stealth rubber soles towards the looming Northeast Buttress of Higher Cathedral Rock. The first half of the route was mine, Keegan would lead the chimneys. Despite an early start, we still had to wait for another party. The climbing was fun, solid and exposed...perfect. Racing light on the long route, we wasted no time. We caught up to the other team and waited a while, swearing to ourselves for lack of headlamps.

Keegan inching up the chimneys

On one of the upper pitches, Keegan's gear loop sheared off while he lurched upward. I heard a crashing followed by the terrifying sound of something heavy gaining momentum through the air. My body sucked against the rock and I assumed the turtle position, head low and down. Something exploded into my right hand with a pain that surely signaled shattered bones. It was then surprising to look up and see that I had blindly (and completely accidently I might add) caught the carabiner of nuts after an 80 foot free fall.

"DUDE, I dropped the nuts," Keegan said.
"Yeah, I know, I caught them," I yelled, cringed forward in pain.
"You got them?"
"NO, I CAUGHT them, and I think I broke my hand!!!"

Minutes later, it was apparent that my hand would be OK, and I seconded the rest of the route. We topped out in the dark and had an interesting descent, to say the least.

In the next week we mostly cragged, including routes such as Jamcrack, New Diversions, and the Central Pillar of Frenzy.

Joe karate kicking his way through Yosemite

Higher Cathedral Spire from the NEB of Higher Cathedral Rock
On a beautiful day, Steve, Joe, our new friend Leighan, and I had the time of our lives on the Regular Route of Higher Spire. This route is anything but regular. It was absolutely stellar! The climbing was never too hard, but the exposure and quality of climbing was incredible. The top out was surely one of the coolest summits I've ever been on as well. It was a great day with some of my best buds!

Steve coming up on the Higher Spire

Great view from the top of Higher Spire

Awesome climb, awesome summit, awesome friends!

Steve and I checked out Leaning Tower one day and practiced some aiding. Talk about exposure! We linked the first two pitches, so by the end I was certainly running low on biners.

Looking down on the first few pitches of leaning Tower

A fun 5.10 near the Arches

Joe took off for Peru, then Steve and I closed our Yosemite trip by running up the Snake Dike on Half Dome with our two British friends Matt and Sam.

We packed our stuff and put the pedal to the metal towards Red Rock in Nevada.
We didn't get on anything too big. More than anything, we wanted to recon for next time. Still, we got in some great cragging and did take a jaunt up the ultra classic Jorge and Joanne Urioste classic, Frogland.

Mister Master, a crazy overhanging Red Rock crack

Ragged Edges Cliff

Steve had a date with the Palisades and I still had a week left in my trip. Being the good friend he is, he drove me down to Joshua Tree and even got in a good day of climbing.

Alaskan local Paul Turecki finished my tattoo one day.

After a week of phenomenal climbing, it was time to head back to Alaska. Luck was on my side and I scored a ride all the way to San Fransisco with a nice guy named Mitch.

Of course, every trip has its ups and downs. You fail on some objectives and don't get on others you had wanted to. This trip, I pushed my boundaries and became a much better climber. As importantly, I got to experience it with some of my best friends and ultimately, that is what is really important to me in climbing.

Until next ROCKtober...

Yosemite 2009 - Volume One

2009-10-13T11:06:00.015-08:00

Ahhh Yosemite.

What a captivating and mystical place! A place that has and will continue to be an annual pilgrimage.

Having learned many of the intricacies and tricks of Yosemite last year, this trip has been a little easier. After camping on an old forest service road just outside of the park, Joe and I drove in at 3 AM and bivvied at the Camp Four kiosk. Since Camp Four is the only walk-in campground in the valley, it is a first-come first-served site only. I learned last year that it is imperative to get their early, since only the first few people get in during the crowded season. We set up shop under the kiosk at 4:15AM and it wasn't long before other hopefuls were waiting behind us.

Unfortunately my camera battery was dead for this initial time so there are very few shots of my friends. All photos came from them.

A lone climber waiting to gain access to the Shangri La that is Camp 4.

Camp 4, the central climber hangout in Yosemite.

After we registered and set up camp, it was off to the crags. A few warm ups on the Swan Slabs had us ready to tackle Commitment, an ubber classic Jim Bridwell 5.9 three-pitch climb at the Five Open Books.

Leading the crux pitch of Commitment

Joe, stoked as always!

We then met up with fellow Alaskans Rob and Lee to plan our climb the following day on the South Face of Washington's Column. An early morning jaunt to the base got our blood flowing. As expected, the route was already occupied by other hopeful senders and we were third in line despite our early awakening. Rob decided to bail, so Lee and I continued as a green duo. We made it to Dinner Ledge by late afternoon after MUCH waiting for other parties ahead of us. Optimally we would have fixed lines to pitch five, but we only fixed to the top of pitch four, just above the reachy bolt ladder on the Kor Roof.

Improvised poop tube. Don't ask.

Starting the second pitch

The next morning we awoke early but still had to wait in line for the party ahead of us to progress. The haul bag was left at the ledge and we pushed for another three pitches before calling it a day and retreating. It was just too slow and crowded. Oh well, we had a lot of fun and the climbing was exciting without being too hard.

Seconding through the Kor Roof

Jugging pitch six

The next day I basically chillaxified and hung out for most of the morning. In the afternoon I was doggedly convinced to climb Nutcracker with Joe and some other guys. I wasn't at all stoked, but slowly got in the mood as the climb progressed. Joe was super new to the trad game but led the crux fifth pitch mantel with ease. He did however drop one of my favorite pieces, the #2 Black Diamond C3, and it fell all the way to the base of the climb. Tisk Tisk, Joe!

The following morning we returned and were miraculously able to find it after hiking up a 3rd class gully. Booty!

A friend had his car broken into by a hungry bear. Bust out the duct tape!

After that I took Joe to another ubber classic, Bishop's Terrace. It might be my favorite 5.8 in the world! He seconded it like it was cake! Strong guy, that Joe! He quickly got the hand jam technique down and made it look easy.

Feeling strong and situated, Joe and I aimed our rope and rack at a bigger piece of stone, the East Buttress of Middle Cathedral.

Another early start and we were at the base by 7:30. We waited for the other even-earlier birds to get ahead and were on route by 8:30. Joe linked pitches one and two, then I linked three and four. Joe nailed the fifth pitch bolt ladder to 5.9 section...then dropped his belay device! JOE!!!!

We continued to the top with a bunch of stellar 5.7/5.8 pitches on superb rock. El Cap dominated the skyline behind us the entire time and the weather was utterly perfect. A few minutes looking for the descent trail and we were plodding down the mighty chasm between Higher and Middle Cathedral rocks. Three rappels brought us back to the trail and from there it was just a short walk to the car.

Lower Cathedral Spire

The forecast took a big nosedive with heavy rains and flood warnings for Tuesday and Wednesday so yesterday we packed up and bailed! Camp Four climbers scurried out like roaches when the lights go on and everyone evacuated in a mass climber exodus towards San Francisco and other Big City safe havens.

Joe and I dropped off our new friend Ian in Sacramento then bee-lined it back to San Francisco to warm beds and laundry at Grandma Kluberton's house in San Mateo. Back to the Valley as soon as the massive tempest lets up!

Redemption in the Revelations – The first ascent of the Ice Pyramid

2009-05-15T09:57:00.015-08:00

The past year had been boiled down and rendered into the monumental moment before us.
Crampons clicked on, backpack straps tightened and deep breaths echoed throughout the upper fork of the Big River Glacier. Seth and I looked each other in the eyes under the pre-dawn purple sky. “Hey man, this is it” I said, eyes focused and intent. We bumped fists and he nodded. “Let's get it.”

The Revelation mountains, a sub-range located at the southwestern most portion of the Alaska Range, were first explored in 1967 by Dave Roberts, Art Davidson and friends. During their 57-day stay, they climbed a handful of beautiful peaks and named many others. Since their visit, less than twenty parties have ventured into these formidable mountains. With peaks ranging from six to almost ten-thousand feet, the Revelations are not high by altitude standards. However, their vertical reliefs are often huge and many are reminiscent of their northern brethren, the Kichatna Spires, some seventy-miles away.

Aside from the obvious positive qualities of such an untamed range, the Revelations are known to be capable of producing some of the most heinous weather imaginable. Likewise, simply getting to the mountains is exorbitantly expensive and few pilots are willing to even fly there.

This was Seth and my second trip to the Revelation mountains. Last season the two of us along with Steve Sinor made a foray into the rarely visited alpine mecca.

All of us instantly became infatuated with an unclimbed 9,250-foot peak apparently called the Ice Pyramid. We made two attempts on its prize, the southwest ridge, but turned around on the eighteenth pitch on day three when it became apparent that we were crossing a point of no return. Regardless, we left with the first ascent of a beautiful 8,385-foot peak we named the Exodus. It was however, a mere secondary consolation to the Ice Pyramid. From there on out, the Ice Pyramid filled our heads with aspirations by day and occupied our dreams at night.

The Ice Pyramid from the northwest. The southwest ridge is on the right skyline, somewhat foreshortened and convoluted by the south spur behind it

Thanks to a Mugs Stump Award we received a second chance at the peak, this time unfortunately without Steve. Seth and I flew in once again with Rob Jones of R&R Guide Services, one of the coolest guys I've ever met and definitely the air master of the range.

As we roped up on that culminating morning, Seth had that familiar expression on his face. He looked at me, but through me, his mouth slightly open and teeth biting his tongue. He was focused and concentrated, completely in the zone. Such a sight made me smile and propelled my confidence all the more. The first few pitches put us a good distance off the ground and Seth's block seemed to pass with finesse and ease. On our second attempt the year prior, we had climbed ten pitches the first day, a mere five the second and three the next before bailing. This year we aimed to climb fifteen pitches on day one and make it to a bivy we called the cave.

Seth seconding on day one

Seth leads out on day one

So far things were looking up. Pitch after pitch and hour after hour fell behind us as we cruised the known terrain. After nearly 14 hours on the go, we pulled into the cave and took to relaxing. The Alaskan sun was still high in the sky at 7 PM and even at ten it showed no signs of disappearing any time soon. The next morning we were up at four and on the go soon after.

Seth climbs a short rock step as a fighter jet zooms by overhead

Looking down one of the rock steps as Seth climbs up

Drying out gear at the cave bivy

Cave Bivy

Seth on the route's rock crux on the morning of day two

A short, awkward move out of the cave led to one of the crux pitches of the route. Since I had led it last year, Seth took it this year just for fun. We quickly reached our previous highpoint and bypassed it by traversing under a series of gendarmes. Deep and unconsolidated snow over slab still took forever to overcome. More vertical wallowing under a massive cornice put us into the sun where conditions rapidly improved. Seth climbed a steep snow pitch to a knife edge ridge, where several long blocks of steep simul-climbing interspersed by short rock steps put us directly under the summit ridge. At a phallic looking outcrop we called the wiener rock, I belayed Seth up and then beyond. He burrowed through the cornice and hauled me up. The Ice Pyramid, an object of obsession and dedication, sacrifice and commitment was ours.

Seth coming up with the entire southwest ridge spanned out below

Seth just on the other side of the summit with Mount Mausolus in the background

Sweat dripped into our eyes as the sun beat down upon us. A panorama of breathtaking unclimbed peaks pulled our eyes in every direction. The southwest ridge lay below like a semi-coiled snake in the ready-to-strike position. With such a beautiful day, we decided to enjoy lunch on a flatter subsidiary summit where we unroped and proceeded to walk to a flat spot overlooking the Swift glacier. Following Seth, I suddenly found myself falling. Arms and legs instinctively braced wide and in an instant I was eye level to his boots. I figured I had simply fallen into a rock moat, but quickly realized the contrary. Cold dry air blew up my face as my legs kicked into nothingness. “Shit! Seth! Oh my God! I'm in a Crevasse. Help!” He briefly stood there, not quite sure what to do. My crampons kicked into the side walls and I tediously heaved myself out. My heart rate slowed to only about 180 beats per minute and the trembling in my hands soon subsided, but the incident had left me shaken. The fact that I was unroped told me that I was very lucky to even be alive. After a while, we climbed back down the other side where we made several rappels to a small bivy platform.

The crevasse

A closer look into the icy gape of the crevasse

Prepping to rappel in the morning

In the morning after more three rappels, I thought back to the previous year. A stuck rope high on the northwest face still resonated loudly in my head. A new thought, “Seth, we can rappel into this couloir on the southwest face and down climb the whole thing, then be off this mountain in two hours. What do ya' think?” Though tempting, it was exceedingly risky since it would put us in a different valley and the threat of rockfall was ever present. Seth cautiously took the bait and we rapped over the edge of the southwest ridge, a point of no return. Two more rappels put us on fast terrain and we down climbed the entire couloir in less than two hours. The whole time, fighter jets from Anchorage's Elmendorf Air Force base flew low over head. Needless to say, our guests kept us terrified as their near sonic booms sounded just like eminent rockfall. Both of us breathed a sigh of relief once out of the gully.

A fighter jet buzzes our basecamp at 400 MPH

A crucial pass, one we thought Dave Roberts had taken as part of his “Butterfly Traverse” in 1967 proved to be nonexistent from the Swift side. When we got to the top of what we thought was the pass, we found only a rock wall of completely shattered shale on the other side. An attempt to traverse a shale band set off a slush avalanche that took everything over a cliff. “Shit,” I said, “what now?” Seth had that same look on his face, but this time the intense concentration seemed to be lacking. The confidence had been replaced with wariness and trepidation. “Ugh, I don't know. Let's go down and see what we see from the bottom,” he said.

We had enough food to camp out and decide in the morning when the snow was firmer, so we set up the tent and contemplated our options. It seemed as if the Ice Pyramid was playing a game with us. What had been a difficult but relatively fluid climb had become marred by an unnerving descent. “Hmmm, I wonder how many days down the river Lime Village is,” I thought. The answer...120 miles by river. “Well, I guess we'll try again tomorrow,” Seth said.

During the evening we pondered Mount Mausolus to the south, which Dave Roberts accurately described as a “hopeless labyrinth” in the 1968 American Alpine Journal. In the morning, exhausted but determined to find a way over the pass we tried again. It just didn't seem to make sense. The pass was beautiful from the Big River side, but on our side it appeared to be a 400-foot cliff. What was the deal here?

As Seth and I got to the top of the shale pinnacles, we were enveloped by a localized whiteout. “Dude...what the...” I said as I shook my head and threw my arms up. “Just let us go!” We both knew that we couldn't be more than a few pitches above our skis and that no matter where we were, the rock band was minimal. With a short clearing in the clouds we peered over and saw the glacier about 500-feet below. Several manky rappels brought us closer to salvation. At the third rappel off a dead-manned picket, 30-meters followed by a 10-to15-meter rock band was all that separated us from the glacier. “That picket is bomber,” I thought, “I hope.” Sure enough, it held and a sense of completeness filled my body as I touched ground. Seth later told divulged that the picket shifted about three inches as I went over the vertical section. He came down and then we hiked to our skis and excitedly skied back to camp in a whiteout, still feeling the mountain's pull on us.

For the rest of the trip we toured the Big River complex and scouted other options. All however, paled in comparison to the Ice Pyramid. After a few days, Seth and I decided the next best route was yet another on the Ice Pyramid, a wide gash on the west face we called the Cataclysmic Couloir. 2,500-feet of steep snow and aerated ice culminated into the northwest ridge where an icy wishbone arete loomed omnipotently above. We made good time up the couloir, climbing it in two 1,000-foot blocks followed by several pitches of belayed and simul-climbing.

Seth leading out in the upper parts of the Cataclysmic Couloir

A look down from the top of the couloir

At the top of the Cataclysmic Couloir where the wind was blowing like hell. The Big River Glacier is visible below

Going down

The glaciated ice above looked to be AI5+/6 and with only four ice screws and a picket belay, bailing seemed the only logical option. After five picket and crappy v-thread rappels we hastily down climbed the remaining 1,700-feet. With one final look at our prize and an amazing ski back to camp, we decided to pack up and head out.

A look down the Ice Pyramid's north face from the top of the Cataclysmic Couloir

Gettin' the goods on the way back to camp

Over the next three days we scoped future objectives and relaxingly hiked 21-miles down the Big River to Rob Jones' lodge.

Seth enjoying the sunset on the hike out

6000-foot tall death-served-cold route, anyone?

The western rampart of the monstrocity known as Mount Hesperus, the tallest peak in the range

For us, the Ice Pyramid represented not only the culmination of a year of training and obsession. It represented a dream come true through sheer will, faith and the support of the Mugs Stump Award. The southwest ridge of the Ice Pyramid (Alaska Grade 4/5 5.8 60-degrees 2600') definitely brought out the best of both of us. Without a doubt, this was the most lay it out there, remote and consistently challenging climb we have ever done. Its ascent, as well as the descent demanded everything from us. Nothing came easy and the reward was well worth the effort. So, to Michael Kennedy and everyone else involved in the Mugs Stump Award: thank you for the opportunity to fulfill a dream! A big thanks also goes out to Black Diamond and Petzl for their support!

Scoping the Ice Pyramid

Here's a little press from Climbing Magazine's Hot Flashes.

An Eklutna Canyon Mixed Nasty

2009-04-14T14:55:00.005-08:00

For quick access to some great ice climbs, there's no place better than Eklutna Canyon. While most of the climbs are typically mellow in nature (WI3-4), there are lots of options to explore and the setting is beautiful. Lately we've learned that there is lots of potential for dry and mixed lines on the steep walls of the canyon.

Recently a local climber established a really pumpy seven-bolt drytool route at the back of the canyon. Like a vanerial disease in a hippy commune, word quickly spread about this supposed new route.

After pulling out of work early, photographer-extraordinaire Matt Hage along with his lovely assistant "Super" Ags Stowe accompanied me to the canyon. Perhaps they hoped to get some good shots and maybe witness a little carnage amid the myriad of crumbling rock, fracturing ice, ropes and sharp pointy things.

The route was indeed pumpy and I did my fair share of hangdogging the first time. On the second lead though, I only fell once. Perhaps next time the climb will go clean!

All photos courtesy of Matt Hage. Please check out his website at HagePhoto.com

Ags looks normal but I look all fat. Damn Matt's weird lenses!

Scratching up the lower section

2009-04-11T08:34:00.002-08:00

Spring time in Alaska seems to surprise me every year. It's dark, cold and I'm lethargic...then suddenly it's seemingly always light, warmer and I'm full of energy. Essencially, I go from being the deflated balloon to being an adventuring fiend!

It's pretty damned cool to be able to get out of work at 7PM and still have time to go for an evening ski or ice climb. Here's a few shots from an evening ski on Peak Two in the Chugach front range.

Mount Redoubt's ash cloud to the south west.

Matt always provides ample entertainment on our outings

Super Ags kicks a great trail and is one tough chick!

2009-03-15T09:59:00.004-08:00

The southwest ridge of Peak 11,300 has long been a desired route of mine. Several years ago two friends made a late winter ascent, climbing the route in six long days.

"We were slow, you can do it much faster for sure!" they said.

When our pilot friend offered to fly us "anywhere we wanted to go" it was hard to resist. Seth and I quickly jumped on his offer and settled on a trip to the Ruth for some late winter exploits.

It isn't often that an *almost* free trip to the Alaska Range falls into one's lap. We quickly learned that free doesn't always come without a price.

Conor "The Man" McManigan on the flight in

The Broken Tooth

The stunning UNCLIMBED East Buttress of MT. Johnson.

Peak 11,300's SW Ridge

We equipped ourselves with an arsenal of warm clothes that would lift a Russian's brow and ran up a hefty Costco food bill.

The weather gods appeased us and granted us with a solid week of stellar bluebird weather and astonishingly moderate temps ranging from -10 to 10F at basecamp in the west fork of the Ruth.

Despite the temps, the snow was extremely unconsolidated and dry, as expected. Our pilot's ski dug in on the turnaround and became hopelessly stuck. Hours and hours of digging, wedging and improvisation finally dislodged the plane. The strut on the wheel bent which caused the ski to edge in to the snow. Hmmm, was this a sign?

The Rooster Comb

With that near miss behind us, we hastily broke trail up glacier. The firing squad of gravity-defying seracs on Huntington's North Wall hurried our movement to the base of the ridge.

Beautiful winter light over the North Wall of Huntington

Up on the route, everything looked good. We knew that in typical spring conditions the route can be done in two-three good days. We packed five days of food and fuel, knowing the deep snow would dramatically slow us.

On the first day we made quick time up the approach gully. Snow ranged from waist or more deep snow to firm neve. Still, with so much snow on the route, every move seemed to take five times longer than it should have. Locating pick or protection placements turned into grueling minutes. The 35lb packs bogged down with cold weather bags, ample fuel and food, etc didn't help.

Our goal had been the first col on the first night...roughly one third of the way up the route. On the first day we made it half the way, to the boulder bivy just below Flake Gully.

Seth on one of the mixed pitches

Seth at the boulder bivy

"Ugh, this is painfully slow," we thought. "We have to move faster tomorrow!"

The next day required full on snow trench warfare against Flake Gully and the subsequent mixed pitches beyond.

Swing, swing, bash, bash, scoop, swing, drag, place. Step up, sink down. Repeat. Look back and see five minutes had advanced us three feet. "WHAT!"

The North Wall of Huntington

Day two came and went with not nearly as much progress being made as we had hoped. Despite continuous 55-58m pitches, we just didn't seem to be getting anywhere.

"Hmmm, so tomorrow we'll make it to the first col...on day three. One third of the way up the route..."

"Yeah, but what if the snow gets better up high and we can move faster?"

"What if it doesn't?"

Seth contemplates the future while water boils on the second night. Notice my mittens acting as booties!

We battled the decision on the morning of day three just below Thin Man's Squeeze and bailed. The descent down the south ridge and under the hanging glacier with waist deep snow didn't sound appealing either.

On the way down a friendly raven followed us and cooed as if to say we made the right choice.

We got back to basecamp only to find that this same lone raven had destroyed our camp. That damned bird had tunneled, literally tunneled under our duffel bags and gotten to our trash bag. He also managed to unzip my bag and pull my jacket and spare clothes out. We knew ravens were notorious for invading camps and even digging, but in early March??????

The raven's revenge

We called Paul Roderick from TAT and asked for a pick up.

"Sure thing. I'll need a six, no wait - eight, no wait - thousand foot runway with a big turn around."

Five hours later Seth and I had a stellar 12'x1000' strip flattened out. Paul arrived in a jolly mood and whisked us away with ease.

Despite not getting to the top, or even close for the matter, the climbing was amazing and very fun. The imposing North Face of Huntington, Rooster Comb and South Buttress of Denali provided incredible vistas throughout our week.

It was a pleasant experience to be completely alone in the Ruth. We learned that Masatoshi Kuriaki, the Japanese Caribou soloist, is bailing from Hunter's West Ridge due to the same deep snow conditions we had. He has already climbed both Foraker and Denali solo in the winter and needs only Hunter to complete his quest. We wish him a safe descent.

Hopefully we can go back this spring and tackle the route in better conditions.

It was a treat just to be in the Range for a week.

Hurdy Gurdy Climbs

2009-02-10T00:51:00.005-09:00

This season my focus has been to not only climb harder and faster, but to tick off as many climbs that I haven't done previously as possible.

So far this season, I've ticked off
-Hollow Icicle
-PFM Route
-Dreams of a Brown Moose
-Bullwinkle
-Avalon Falls

One that I've always wanted to check out but requires a burly approach are the Hurdy Gurdy climbs in Eagle River.

Richard was going out there with a few friends this weekend and invited me along.

The approach starts with just under a three mile ski, followed by another 1.5 mile bushwhack up a small drainage that gains more than 3,200 vertical feet. The approach alone took 4.5 hours. While the others climbed Piece of Cake, a fat 325' WI3, Richard and I traversed over and climbed Fruit Cake, a solid WI4.

Armed with an arsenal of 10 screws, I set off and climbed through lots of steep alpine ice that was brittle and often aerated. It took lots of time to lead through the funky ice. I got to a spot that looked good for belaying...and it wasn't. I put in a 10cm screw and equalized it with a worthless spectre, then climbed up another 20' of vertical ice. With one long screw left, I constructed a V-thread (that was hard as hell to make since my abalokov didn't want to grab the webbing). Then that was equalized with my last screw.

Richard is barely visible way down there

A view down from the hanging (uncomfortable) belay

Richard followed up then lead another 40' of slightly better ice.

We decided to traverse a snow ledge over to Piece of Cake and rappel from there. Richard lead out and protected the running belay with slings wrapped around finger-width alders. Three rappels brought us down to the bottom, where our friends met us.

Sadly, one of my poles got caught on an alder while traversing through them and got pulled off my pack without me knowing. We gathered our things, then started the hike down and out.

The whole day was about 13.5 hours...a long day for a little ice.

The point of the day was to work my legs and climb some new ice. Mission accomplished!

After that, we had a midnight dinner of moose spaghetti at Richard's and then happily turned in for the night after a long day!

Steep Highway Ice

2009-02-05T13:09:00.005-09:00

After a long cold snap followed by a long warm snap, the ice around southcentral Alaska is finally looking good again.

Lee and I took advantage of the conditions and headed out to the highway for some steep drips. Neither of us had ever climbed much on the PFM Wall, so we started there. We've always wondered what PFM stands for and our friend Matt thinks it stands for Pretty Fucking Miserable. Despite his guess, it was nothing but stellar on Saturday for us.

The first 30 feet are dead vertical and contain mostly candlesticked ice with occasional spots for pro. Luckily, I was able to reach the third bolt to stop a groundfall right off the bat. There was a small hole where two converging drips came together that allowed me to chicken-wing with my left arm as I put in my second screw. That was a first for me, I've never chicken-winged on an ice climb before. It was almost fist-jammable, but not quite. Above that, the climbing eased a little bit, but still proved thin and aerated in spots.

The south facing aspect of the highway means that it can get lots of sun. Half-way up the climb, I was so hot I shed my coat and continued up in my poly-pro top. You can see in the photo that I was all black: stealth mode!

Lee followed up like a champ, then we rapped off and did a lap on Roadside Attraction, which was also stellar.

Here's a cool video sequence I put together from Lee's photographs.

On Sunday while everyone else was watching the Super Bowl, Lee, Matt, Agnes and I skied at Alyeska.

The next day we went back to the PFM wall so Matt, a professional photographer, could snap some shots. It was not a very nice day and his guess of what PFM stands for seemed to fit.

I broke a crampon on lead and encountered several other problems that forced me to lower down. After fixing the bugs, I re-climbed the route to the top.

Thanks to Lee for supplying these awesome shots.

Viva El Fede!

2009-01-11T10:51:00.006-09:00

Federico "el Fede" Campanini was an amazing human being. I first met him during my second season working on Rainier. Fede was one of those rare breeds of people that got along with everyone and never had a negative thought in his head. Fede loved educating people on mountain travel and was equally at home discussing broader contexts of life during breaks on the hill.

We lived together that season in Ashford under the flanks of Mount Rainier. Fede was quickly a favorite among both fellow guides and clients alike.

I remember when I was moving up to 14k camp on Denali this spring. Fede's team had just had a super long, hard day. He looked very tired, but still had that same characteristic smile creased across his sunburned, sweat encrusted face. Exhausted as he was, his true generosity and selfless nature were as present then as they ever were.

The more I climb, the more I come to appreciate the small things. Mountains like Denali are fun simply enough in the fact that you frequently run into familiar faces. When I ran into Fede on that beautiful day in May I knew it would be the last time I would see him. It never occurred to me though that it could be under such circumstances.

Fede died on Aconcagua, his home mountain, on January 7th, 2009. It is with no doubt in my mind though, that the actions which led to his death saved the lives of his clients. That's the Fede I knew and that's the Fede I will remember.

I cannot help but mourn the loss of my good friend, but likewise I choose to celebrate his life.
Like the winds and the snows of the high peaks Fede climbed, his spirit is forever a part of the mountains. For that much, I cannot help but smile.

VIVA EL FEDE!!!!!!

New Training Log

2009-01-08T14:21:00.005-09:00

Now that I know the Revelations trip is going to happen, it's time to get down to business. So, I created a new blog to help log my training and nutrition. It's rough and new, but will be continuously refined as I get a better idea as to what my training methods should be. Please feel free to check it out and offer input, ideas, suggestions or even encouragement!

Check it out at HIGHER DREAMS TRAINING.

Mugs Stump Grant!

2009-01-02T17:44:00.006-09:00

2009 kicked off to an AMAZING start when word came that I had been selected as a recipient of one of the most prestigious grants a climber can dream of...the Mugs Stump Grant.

Mugs Stump was an avid climber in the 1980s and early 1990s. His bold routes on the Emperor Face of Mount Robson, the east face of the Mooses Tooth, the north buttress of Mount Hunter, Yosemite and beyond are unmatched and timeless. Mugs' impeccable style set the standard by which many alpine climbs are now compared to. Tragically, Mugs died in a crevasse fall while guiding on Denali in 1992.

Seth and I will use the money to go nail some unclimbed objectives in the Revelations, located at the southwestern most part of the Alaska range. After last year's venture, we have lots of unfinished business to tend to.

The motivation so lacking is now coursing through my veins! T-minus five months! Time to start training!!!!!!!

Eagle River Ice

2008-11-26T19:36:00.007-09:00

Eagle River is without a doubt my favorite place to climb. The views are gorgeous, the approaches are relatively easy and there's so much to do within an hour or two from the car.

I've already climbed out there three times this ice season, but haven't posted anything about it. So, as I try to get motivated (see post below), here's a little trip report from a day on the ice with my good friend Richard Baranow.

Mr. Chugach himself knows the range and especially Eagle River better than anybody, without a doubt. We had talked about going out and scoping an unclimbed ice route high up in the valley but the motivation to hike 4,000' for one pitch of ice wasn't quite there.

Richard, all smiles!

So instead we went to a beautiful early season climb that rides up a gully for more than 2,000'. Well, we hit it in early season...in the early season of early season. The climb was definitely 'in' but it was wetter than a fish.

Richard and I brought a rope but never took it out. We climbed the first three main ice pillars, all of which are fairly steep but never too hard. The third pillar was so unbelievably wet, we would have been dryer had we jumped in a pool. Even though it was steep, we opted not to rope up due to the water. The idea was just to climb as fast through it as possible.

An interesting note would be that I fell up to my waist in a deep pool when some ice broke underneath me. Soaking but not too cold, we climbed to the base of the main pillar. It was equally as wet, so we took an exit trail and hiked back down.

Richard coming up with Clint's swimming pool below him

Richard running up the third main piece of ice

...and getting SOAKED!!!

My clothes were stiff as they turned to solid ice sheets. All in all, it was a good day on the ice in late October. Sometimes the fun comes in suffering a little bit.

Motivation and lack there of...

2008-11-25T22:26:00.011-09:00

It is amazing how at times, there is so much motivation pulsing through my veins it is like riding a lightning bolt. Other times I feel like a deflated balloon, empty and flat.

Right now I am the balloon. The stress of school, work and Alaska's short days as we approach winter solstice have zapped my energy and my will to train.

After a long and stressful day in the Revelations this spring. This is how I feel now.

Flash back several months ago when I was hitting the rock-gym four times a week, running, lifting weights, riding my bike. I was running on an emotional and motivational high. My ambitions were all I thought about and being my best fueled my every thought.

Take one sip of beer. Add one bowl of ice cream, four term papers, 40 hour work weeks and no immediate objectives. Now repeat four to five times...with the beer, quantify by 100. That's where I am at now. But it isn't where I want to be.

As far as ice climbing goes, I feel like I'm climbing better than I ever have, but that isn't enough. I need to get out and put in some long days in the mountains. I need to feel the burn in my thighs from post-holing up some precarious snow slope as fast and efficient as I can. But, I don't want to. Where is my motivation?

There is an infinite multitude of amazing online sources for training that I have been looking at lately. Here are some of my favorites that at least spark the motivation.
Kelly Cordes Training for alpine climbing

Andy Kirkpatrick's website: Pyscho Vertical

I find the best motivators for me are old pictures from previous climbs and trips. Not only do they get me thinking about fun times in the mountains with my friends, they also get me thinking about how alive I felt in those situations.

So, here's a few shots from over the years to get me, and you... MOTIVATED!

Ptarmigan Peak

2008-11-05T10:53:00.008-09:00

Photo courtesy of Colin Haley

Immediately after returning from Yosemite, it was back to work and school. For many months, I had been working with the American Alpine Club, Black Diamond and the Bear Tooth Theatre to put together a slideshow. It would also be a benefit for the AAC, to help rebuild and renovate the Snowbird Hut in the Talkeetna Mountains.

Colin Haley, fresh off an attempt on Baintha Brakk (better known as the Ogre) in Pakistan flew up to Alaska and gave a wonderful slideshow on the Torre Traverse.

After that he had a few days to play before heading back down to Seattle.

The two of us ended up going out to Ptarmigan Peak with Scotty and Carl. The ski out was great and we didn't have many problems with moose. While the other guys scratched their way up one of Carl's old test pieces near Caught With a Youngin', Colin and I did a longer and more moderate route called Ski Tracks.

Aside from being extremely strong and remarkably efficient, Colin is amazingly humble. It was a fun day out on the mountains with a great guy!

A big thanks goes out to Colin for coming up and raising several thousand dollars for a good local cause!!! Check out the AAC's article!

Photo courtesy of Colin Haley

Yosemite Valley

2008-10-23T11:08:00.015-08:00

El Capitan, the crown of American rock

Before winter had even hit Anchorage, I had a craving for warm weather. Perhaps it was due to the THREE days of "summer" we had that hit 70 degrees, perhaps it was just a desire to climb in Yosemite. Either way, I HAD to go.

I went down there with plans to meet my buddy Travis, who had hitched a ride over from Jackson, Wyoming. As I walked into the parking lot of Camp 4, I saw my friend Ben from Anchorage. It was totally random, but great to see a familiar face right off the bat. We didn't waste any time and hopped right on the classic Nutcracker, a four-pitch 5.8.
The feel of beautiful, warm granite under my hands and feet was euphoric.

Trav seconding on Munginella, a sweet 5.6 warm-up!

Travis showed up the next day and we got right to it. My buddy Nick Parker listed off a few of the classics I had to do when I was in the Valley, and we started with a nice, simple warm-up on Munginella, a five-pitch 5.6 on a rock formation called the Five-Open Books. We did a lot of climbing on this formation, as it had a high concentration of four to six-pitch routes in the 5.8-5.9 range.

The third pitch of Munginella, with Lost Arrow Spire in the background

Some sweet chimney action...a little runout on After 7, a popular 5.8

The days were spent climbing with an incredible backdrop of the visual wonders of Half Dome, Lost Arrow Spire, El Capitan and the Cathedral Spires.

Trav with the Cathedral Spires as a backdrop

On a rainy day we hiked up to the base of El Capitan to the North American Wall route. Rain ran off the wall, but fell over 100 feet into the forest...talk about steep. This section was overhanging!!!

Hiking around under El Capitan

The classic Royal Arches was a fun and moderate route that put us up high above the valley. The hustle-bustle of activity below was quelled by the clinking of carabiners and cams. Bishop's Terrace was undoubtedly the best 5.8 I've ever climbed. It had a little bit of everything from fingers to hands (lots of hands) to a wide section that had me hopping up my lone #4 camalot.

Setting up the rappel atop Bishop's Terrace. It was a beautiful and HOT day

A great guy from Wales named Matt spent a lot of time climbing with us. He and I tried to get on the South Face of Washington's Column but got turned around by crowds, so no big wall for us this time. Oh well. We cracked a beer from our haul-bag on a ledge and watched the sun set on the northwest face of Half Dome.

Sorting and packing gear before our attempt on Washington's Column

Matt and I on Washington's Column with Half Dome in the background

A little sacrifice for the friends we wished were with us

We met many great people from all over the world and had almost as much fun sitting around the crackling fires at Camp Four as we did climbing. It seemed as if half of Alaska was down in the Valley when we were there. I think I met 14 people I knew!

Aside from climbing a lot, we got to do a lot of other cool stuff. We watched Hans and Yuji smash their speed record of the Nose, climbing the whole route in just over 2:35 minutes.

Hans and Yuji on their record-breaking run up the Nose

The Sentinel at sunset

On another day we bailed off of the Central Pillar of Frenzy on Middle Cathedral Peak after the weather started heading south. We headed back over to El Cap and played around on the biggest rope swing I've ever seen. Nothing says 'fun' like swinging nearly 200 feet over the forest in front of El Capitan!

Me leading up the first pitch of the Central Pillar of Frenzy on Middle Cathedral

We were having a good time at this belay!

On the Central Pillar of Frenzy before the weather closed in. The East Buttress of El Cap is in the background

Matt and I on the Central Pillar

Swinging high and far on the El Cap rope swing as the snow starts to fall

Me taking the big swing

Another swing from my point of view, this one had a harder landing

Before I knew it, it was time to leave. Of course, just when my trip was winding down was when I was starting to feel really strong and comfortable. Oh well, next year!

Trav and I finished our trip on a five-pitch route called Super Slide, a great 5.9 on the Arches.

Trav making his way up Super Slide

Trav and I at the top of Superslide on our last day in Yosemite. You've gotta love his fishing hat!

The High One

2008-07-09T10:17:00.011-08:00

Immediately after I returned from my trip to the Revelations, it was time to start repacking for Denali. As I washed my clothes and drank a cool beer, I was struck with a sense of trepidation. This would be my first time on Denali, but I felt like I already knew every step of the route. Years of studying and reading about it had given me a sort of third party insight to every aspect of the West Buttress and the
lifestyle on the mountain.

It wasn't the height or the weather that had me less than excited about the trip, it was the hoards. Having come from the Revelations, a place almost no one had ever even heard of, the West Buttress of Denali was a complete polar opposite. Regardless, I knew it was going to be an adventure, just not a 'wilderness adventure.'

This was going to be my third year working with Rainier Mountaineering Inc., a guide service out of Ashford, WA. I had spent the past two summers guiding on 14,411' Mount Rainier, and had earned a spot working on Denali.

As Jay Hudson of Hudson Air dropped our crew off at basecamp on the Kahiltna Glacier, the anticipation and excitement grew with the height of the surrounding mountains. Immediately I ran into Alaskan hardman Mark Westman. A quick hello was all we had time for, but he had just completed the fourth ascent of the Isis Face on Denali as well as a new route near the Mini-Moonflower. Hearing about his climbing adventures already whetted my appetite for something other than a three-week slog.

Looking into the Valley of Death from the lower Kahiltna Glacier.

11k Camp with Foraker in the background

Our team was incredibly strong, the personalities unique yet comparable. As we moved higher up the West Buttress, the weather seemed to be holding stable. It looked as though we would complete a relatively fast trip, if only the weather would hold.

We ran into Steve House at 11K camp. He and his client Richard were acclimatizing for the Cassin Ridge. We would run into them many more times throughout the trip and it was neat to pick his brain about various climbs around the world.
At one point he stopped to talk to us and I somehow held his Grivel ice tool. "Grant me some of your power, Great White Hope!" I remember thinking. Perhaps I thought by touching a tool that had seen so many premiere ascents, some of Steve's innate ability would osmosisize into me. I'm not sure it worked, but it was worth a try.

Winds at 14k Camp

Life at 14,400'

Foraker and 14k camp from the edge of the world at 17k camp

A panorama video from 17K

...And then this happened...for several days...and it sucked!

A week of bad weather at 17K and three trips to Denali Pass at 18,300' had worn us out. Finally on the third attempt two guides and two clients made it to the top in less than ideal weather. We made it down and out in 19 days. It was super nice to get back down to the green forests and blooming flowers. Plus, I made it down just in time for a very special birthday party...

Cloud walkers: Climbers on the ridge just below 17k camp

Dishwater Drainage - Volume Two

2008-07-06T11:25:00.010-08:00

The Revelations trip was coming up in a matter of days and I had yet to get my massive cache from Dishwater. So, instead of studying for school finals, I decided to go pick it up and go climbing for the weekend.

This time, it was Ricardo Baranowski, his friend Paul and me who would be going out there. It was so warm on the hike out that we didn't even wear our shirts for much of the time. Once again, Kaupo and Nene accompanied us in and helped carry some weight.

One the first night we enjoyed a beautiful sunset followed by seemingly eternal alpenglow. These are the moments I think most define my passion for being in the mountains. You don't get views like this in the hustle-bustle city!

Richard's snowcave was huge!

We got started early in the morning and hiked to the head of the cirque. There we found a narrow gash that appeared to lead to the summit of Nantina Point. Richard took the first lead up and over a short little rock step, then belayed Paul and me up.

I got the next lead up the steepening gash and found incredibly unconsolidated snow over bad rock with little pro. When I was able to get a piece in, it was with really small gear, like a #00 C3 camalot or #3 stopper.

Leads were taking a while due to the poor snow conditions. Richard took the next lead over a short little snice and rock step, then across a really exposed and scary traverse to another couloir.

By this time, I realized that the route was going to take far longer than we had expected. I had class at 8:30 in the morning and still had to hike out. Too many days climbing had pissed off my teacher and I was out of absences. Still, we continued up as the sun fell lower in the sky. Sometimes it is hard to stop when the momentum is pushing upward.

As we got higher, the summit seemed like it was so close. Pitch after pitch kept proving that it was farther than we had anticipated, yet we still climbed. A large chunk of simul-climbing ate up a lot of elevation in a short amount of time. The sun set as we neared the summit, and I realized I had forgotten my headlamp. I was pretty mad at myself for forgetting such a key piece of gear.

The last few pitches were devoid of gear placements. Paul and I were not at all motivated, but Richard was keen for the summit. He led all of the upper pitches including the last one. To break onto the summit Richard had to climb through a nasty cornice with almost no pro under him for an entire ropelength.

We pulled up on the summit just as the sun went down and didn't stay long. Paul and I were anxious to get down, and I still had to hike out. By this time, I knew I was cutting it close.

Paul coming up through the cornice
The look on my face says it all

As we rappelled through the night, I realized there was no way we were going to be able to make it back in time for me to make my class at 8:30 in the morning. It was a chilly night and we all had our down parkas on as we descended in 200' chunks. Towards the bottom of the route we could see the boulder where our snowcave was. All of a sudden we saw what looked like a headlamp down there. It turns out Richard's girlfriend Natalia had hiked up to help carry some of my stuff down because I was going to be hiking down alone otherwise with a lot of gear. I thought that was super nice of her!

We finally got to camp at about 3:30 in the morning. I knew there was no way I could make it back in time, so I decided to just say "screw it" and passed out in the snow cave. In the morning Natalia and I hiked out under beautiful skies.

Despite my pleas, my professor showed me no sympathy and failed my ass for missing one too many classes. Needless to say I wasn't pleased. Oh well, I learned a lesson...Don't take 8:30 AM Monday classes.

Perhaps when I'm retaking the class again in the Fall I'll be able to decide if it was worth it just to make the first ascent of the north face of Nantina Point.

Dishwater Drainage - Volume One

2008-06-25T08:00:00.008-08:00

Local hardman Richard Baranow (a.k.a. Mr. Chugach) called me up one weekday and asked me if I would like to join him on a weekend climb into the Dishwater Creek Drainage in the North Fork of Eagle River. The area had been on my mind for quite a while and I knew the climbing potential was very good.

On an early April weekend, Richard Baranow, Andy Hoyt, my good friend Steve Sinor and I headed out for a three night stay. The aim for this trip was both reconnaissance and obviously a little climbing.

A large bear had just passed, but we didn't see him

Richard's awesome dogs Kaupo and Nene both helped carry in some weight

Looking down the valley towards Eagle Peak

Looking up the valley at Kiliak Peak

The hike in was easy, mostly painless. Compared to the next valley over, Icicle Creek, it was a cakewalk. As we moved into our snowcave camp, the sun dropped below the jagged horizon and alpenglow filled the sky.

The two pairs split up in the morning and forayed on our own respective climbs. Steve and I climbed up a steep snow couloir with several easy rock steps. About 800' up the couloir was a beautiful unclimbed 60m ice line. Steve let me hop on the lead and I graciously accepted.

The ice was pretty solid, but had a few rotten pockets. The going was mostly cruiser WI3 with one vertical 15' section. Steve followed up, then we rapped off a v-thread. Two more rappels got us down to lower angled downclimbing.
We named the route Shimmering Bliss.

The next morning we hopped on a previously established line, put up by Wayne Todd and Corey Hinds. Richard and Andy had made the second ascent the day before. Steve and I had to hike out that day, so we just climbed a variation of the first pitch, fun and thin WI4.

Shimmering Bliss is in the upper left. The initial couloir is not visible. The Hinds-Todd route follows up the initial ice pitch on the right and continues up a couloir to another ice smear

Richard convinced me to leave my stuff there so I had no choice but to return and climb again. After careful consideration, I listened. The light backpack was nice on the hike out, but the fear of not getting back up in time to get my stuff was nerve racking.

Two weeks in the Revelations

2008-05-17T10:30:00.014-08:00

Sometime around when I first started climbing, I heard rumors of a remote mountain range full of massive unclimbed granite spires. Over the years, I heard more and more about this supposed place and slowly came to believe in its existence.

A brief mention in the purple Alaska Climbing book by Colby Coombs and Mike Wood proved that the Revelations were indeed more than just a sort of Shangri La. Years of combing the American Alpine Journals and using my growing network of local climbers, more and more information about this remote Mecca came to the surface.

"The Revelations have weather like the Kitchatnas (which have terrible weather), but worse...much worse!"

"Royal Robbins got rained on for 23 consecutive days."

"It cost me less to fly to Australia than it did to fly to the Revelations."

"I wasted two weeks waiting in Talkeetna to fly in."

"Get ready to spend a fortune!"

So far, things didn't sound encouraging.
Regardless, I studied and researched these peaks like a college paper, while my college studies took a backseat. The Revelations became a sort of sick fascination which consumed my every thought. Topographic maps became more and more detailed with penciled in routes, several peak names and random scribbles.

In the fall of 2007, the American Alpine Club awarded me with the Mountain Fellowship Fund Grant to attempt an unclimbed 9000' peak in the area. After getting a few friends to commit, it was on.

School finals came in late April and I hurried to get them done so I could leave on time. On Tuesday, April 29th, I gave an 8:30 presentation, handed in my last final, and rushed to get out that day.

Our pilot Rob Jones, was personally recommended from Paul Claus. He had taken most of our gear and headed to the glacier already. Jack from Alaska Air Taxi delivered us in his beaver. The flight in took us past the Tordrillos and Neacolas to the south and Denali, Foraker, Hunter and the Kichatnas to the north.

My stomach twisted in knots as the erratic skyline grew taller and more detailed.
We landed and after a few minutes the pilots took off. We were alone in the middle of nowhere, and it felt awesome! No other climbers, not even another soul anywhere near us. We were out there, really out there.

The SW ridge of the Ice Pyramid from our basecamp.

Constructing a solid base camp was our first priority. Walls were built to protect us from wind and snow drifts. That night we settled in and ate a large dinner, bratwursts.

Day two we spent reconnoitering around our cirque. A pass we had hoped to cross had a large burgeschrund with funky snow above it, so we backed off, not wanting to set off a slab above the hole.
The SW ridge of the Ice Pyramid appealed to the group, so we set off to try it on day three.
We grossly underestimated how long it would take. By 2PM we had reached the ridge proper, only 4 pitches up. Steve couldn't find a good way above on the fifth pitch so we made two full rappels off the ridge. I punched my leg through the schrund on the second rappel and saw only blackness. A look behind showed only three feet left on my lines for the rappel. A close call, but not a big deal.

The ridge would go, but it was going to take a serious alpine style effort. Seth had a good idea when he suggested that we search the area for what he called the "low hanging fruit."

On day four we compiled a bivy system to use on the ridge: A two-man tent with two sleeping bags for three guys. We hiked down glacier to recon other peaks and try it out. At the confluence of the three forks of the Big River Glacier sat a beautiful unclimbed peak labeled 8385' on the topo map.

The Exodus from up glacier.

A long 30 degree snow couloir led to a hanging glacier. A series of steeper couloirs arched towards the summit. We chose the left couloir which appeared to lead right to the summit. Technically easy yet still fun, the couloir yielded to a lower fifth class pitch then to another scrambling pitch to the summit.
We had achieved the first ascent of the Exodus.

Steve, Seth and I on the first ascent of the Exodus

After descending, we made a quick dinner at the boulder bivy then sauntered back to basecamp.
We threw our remaining time and effort at the Ice Pyramid. Confident in our system, we took food and fuel for three days that could be stretched to four.
On day one we climbed 10 pitches to a small bivy ledge on the ridge proper. difficulties up to probably 5.7 were encountered, with the 10th pitch having an awkward off-balance move above shaky gear.

Steve leading on the Ice Pyramid.

Steve seconding on day one.

Steve leading on day one.

Steve on an airy rock ridge.

Three in a two-man tent, no problem!

Day two put us into harder climbing, and we traversed and climbed up an additional five pitches to a protected ledge with a good roof.

Seth dominating pitch 15 on day two.

There was just enough snow to make the moving slow and tedious. Clint leading on day two.

Our bivy spot at the end of day two.

Day three was do or die. I was still feeling charged so I led every pitch, which all had the most technical climbing of the route. The 16th pitch had an airy traverse out of the cave to an awkward overhanging rock step with good pro. I hung my pack so I could free the step, and Steve double carried both his and my pack to the belay another 60 feet higher. What an animal!

The guys weren't feeling like we were going to be able to get up and down the route by the end of the day, but I pressed on. With such a good stretch of weather, we were all just waiting for it to really sock in and get bad. Steve and Seth gave me one more pitch to check it out and see where the route was going and how far we were from the summit. A major gendarme blocked easy access on the ridge proper, so I traversed then dropped down below it. A steep and tricky rock step blocked a thin snow chute. My chi was in check and despite the move being very heady, I committed and pulled it. It was one of those moments a person dreams about, outperforming one's perceived abilities.

I was stoked until I looked down at Seth and his eyes were about as big as grapefruits. I could see he was looking below me. When I looked down, I noticed my last, and only piece had fallen out. "You wanna get some pro in dude?" he said. I got in a purple nut and kept climbing. Needless to say, I got to the top of the pitch and had one more difficult but manageable move to make. Seth and Steve were anxious to get down and the descent was by no means going to be easy. After a long debate, it was decided that retreat was the best option.

Looking down on Seth, Steve and the whole route from the highpoint of the route.

It was hard to bail when I could see the summit so close, 6-8 easy pitches from the top. It would still have taken another whole day to get up and down had we topped out though, so it ended up being for the best I guess.

Multiple raps brought us closer to the ground but the threat of stuck ropes on such a large face was always on our minds. Of course, on the fourth rappel, it happened. Seth and I felt like we were going to puke. I honestly thought I might quit climbing with that single event. 2000' up on a face in a hanging belay with only 40m of rope is terrifying. Luckily Seth took the initiative and reclimbed a difficult pitch to free the rope. We traversed and rappelled to our first bivy after a long day.

Seth Rappelling just before the rope got stuck

In the morning we made four rappels and touched ground by 2pm.

Seth rappelling to the ground on day four.

Sure enough, that evening the weather started to move in. The wind began to blow and snowplumes rose off the summits and ridges of all the surrounding mountains. As our pilot Rob had said, "the Revelations know how to blow!"

The next day we packed up our stuff and hiked out 22 miles over the next two days. We arrived at Rob's lodge and he was there waiting for us with beer and moose steak. It was a perfect ending to a great trip.

As I reflected on the trip over the next few weeks, I realized just how lucky all of us were. Not only was the weather almost perfect, but three good friends safely came out of a remote mountain range as three great friends with memories that will last a lifetime. Of all my mountain adventures, the Revelations inspired me and awed me more than any. Such a remote and untouched area is rare in this day and age. I left with an absolute desire to return and my mind constantly stirs with ideas and future plans. These are the moments I live for.

Thanks to the American Alpine Club for helping to make this trip possible through a Mountain Fellowship Fund Grant.

"If you are lucky enough to be in the mountains, you are lucky enough!" - unknown

More pictures can be found here: http://picasaweb.google.com/ClintHelander/Revelations2008

Click here to read a trip report on the American Alpine Club's main website.

Avalanche Awareness!

2008-02-25T21:03:00.005-09:00

Last week my buddy Jay Rowe and I went ice climbing in Valdez. Jay, twice my age, climbed twenty times as hard as I did. Although it was still fun, I had a terrible weekend both mentally and physically on the ice, so I'll skip that report. Too much school and no ice adventure for a month didn't have me shaped up for the ultimate steeps that Jay was wanting.

Jay and I in Valdez. You can't see it, but it was raining.

This weekend though, was redemption!
I needed my Level II Avalanche Certification to work on Denali this summer. Luckily, The Alaska Avalanche School had ONE spot left, so I quickly snagged it up.

Digging a pit in Hatcher Pass

Shameless self promotion up in Hatcher Pass

The first two days were spent up north in Hatcher Pass. We learned lots of snow science...how to read and identify grain types, weak layers, etc.

The real education came on Sunday though. The group headed down to Turnagain Pass to study a more maritime snow pack and instead we ended up studying the powerful and deadly ramifications of a MASSIVE avalanche from the day before.

Blaine, one of our instructors. The avalanche is visible behind him.

Seven feet of snow had fallen in several days over a layer of facets (weak, unstable snow layer caused by moisture and cool temperatures over time). A tourist skier from Oregon triggered a gigantic slide on the southwest aspect of Sunburst that propagated nearly 1/2 mile wide. The crown (the top of the avalanche slide) was 10 feet thick at the highest part. The avalanche took the skier more than 1500 feet down the face, then over a huge ditch, and up onto the opposing valley wall onto the face of Magnum. This avalanche then triggered another sympathetic avalanche off of Magnum.

Rescuers were unable to locate the victim for more than 30 minutes. After this amount of time, survival rates plummet exponentially. Incredibly the victim was found after nearly 40 minutes. Unconscious and blue in the face, rescuers thought he was dead. He soon gained consciousness and was talking. After a helicopter ride to the hospital, he was released without even sustaining any injuries.

So, we as students spent all of Sunday surveying and analyzing the massive slide. It was quite a classroom setting. We learned that he was the sixth skier down the face. It was caused by him skiing off a rock, which was right by the thin part of the snow layer.

It was amazing to see skiers disregarding the signs and skiing similar terrain on similar aspects as well as snowmachiners highmarking across the valley near Seattle Ridge. It seemed quite ignorant since the rescuers had flown out with a corpse and a victim from two separate avalanches less than 24 hours beforehand.

Ultimately, we learned to be humble and use our instincts. The guy should have become a statistic. He was lucky and I learned a lesson from surveying the scene that I hope I never have to experience firsthand.

For more information and pictures of the slide taking place, go to the Chugach Avalanche Forecasting Page .

Massive props to all of the rescuers who were on the scene to help!

And...TAKE AN AVALANCHE COURSE! BE SMART, BE SAFE, and DON'T BE A STATISTIC!

Gravel Creek Ice Climbing

2008-01-23T11:52:00.000-09:00

On Martin Luther King day, the Wharf Rat, Old Crow and I went out to Gravel Creek to check out the big ice climb there. We made good time with two snowmachines and were at the base within 20 minutes.

Jon Cobb and Bill Billmier were out there as well, so we started after they set up their own top rope. Luckily, Wharf Rat and Old Crow elected me as the rope gun so I got the lead.

The ice on the right side was wet and thunker, which made for relatively easy climbing despite the steepness. I plugged six screws in along the way then one more with a v-thread for the anchor. Wharf Rat and Old Crow each took a run up while Cobb and Billmier TRed the steep steep steep left side.

After Cobb and Billmier left, we put in a redirectional piece and I climbed up the left side, which was sustained vertical cauliflower/chandelier ice for a long, long way. It would be a spicy lead, to say the least...one requiring cajones the size of grapefruits.

The fun though, was just beginning. When we got back to Wharf Rat's truck, we promptly got it stuck. 45 minutes and a lot of digging (with our helmets) and we were free.

As we left the parking lot we were stoked to be heading home. "What's that noise," Wharf Rat said. Turns out the spring support on his trailer had totally snapped. That noise we heard while driving was the tire rubbing against the jagged metal of the trailer.

Long story short, we had to call a tow truck and get the trailer towed back to Wasilla. That translated into lots of time and lots of money. A shitty end to a great day of climbing, but it could have been much worse.

Mountain Fellowship Fund Grant

2008-01-11T12:56:00.000-09:00

The American Alpine Club just awarded me the Mountain Fellowship Fund grant for $800. In April and May I will be going to the Revelations to attempt a first ascent on a specific unclimbed peak.

Unfortunately, I cannot tell you what I am doing because if I do, you dirty thieves will probably snake my line. :)

A big thanks to the American Alpine Club who will help make this possible.

Hyped up for Hypercard

2008-01-05T23:31:00.001-09:00

After my parter Old Crow recovered from a very long night downtown, we had breakfast then headed out to the highway for a quick jaunt on the steeps. The ice is great right now with lots of seldom formed drips in quite well. We had our eyes on Hypercard, the thin smear to the left of Roadside Attraction.

My rock beat his scissor and after an energy drink and some Queens of the Stone Age on full blast during the drive out, I was amped up and rearing to go. The cars already lined up in eager anticipation of some climber/highway carnage.

The first 25 feet are thin and nearly impossible to protect, so I ran it out until I got to the first ledge. A 16cm screw sunk to the head, but in some very bad ice, so I put another just a few feet higher. The second part was the hardest...steep and aerated ice with a good runout. I made it through and even got a piece in...how awesome is that!!!

I got a little rest at the top of the second flow and put in a screw in solid ice. Up there, the ice was super wet and what we call 'thunker' which means it was very secure. Though I had leashes, I had them super super loose so I was pretty much climbing leashless, since I had no ability to rest on them. Basically, I got super pumped. Regardless, I made it up to the anchor and decided just to belay my partner up from the top instead of rapping down. Besides, it looked cooler that way.

Old Crow seconded and cleaned, then we rapped down and looked both ways before crossing the street and drove off like it 'ain't no thang!'

Trials and tribulations on the walls of Yukla

2007-12-02T14:31:00.000-09:00

For the past two years, much of my alpine climbing attention has been focused on a stunning 7,535' peak in Eagle River called Yukla Peak. Over the course of five separate trips into the Icicle Valley, I have attempted three different unclimbed routes on the northwest face. In January 2o06, John Kelley and I went in and attempted the central chimney. We got high on route, but didn't bring bivy gear and lost motivation after getting to a vertical powder snow wall high up above minimal protection. We spent the next several hours rappelling to our high camp and bailed that next day.The line ended up being climbed several months later by John Kelley and Josh Varney. They named the route "The History of Things to Come."

The next year I returned once again with John Kelley, to try one of the other two unclimbed routes on the face. We ended up climbing "Gank'd and Slayed," (American Alpine Journal 2007) the right trending snow and ice couloir that is also mixed with several narrow chimneys. During the next three days we climbed virgin terrain up to M6, AI6, with several a2 moves on the first pitch.

Pitch one began with a AI3 ramp leading to a vertical/slightly overhanging rock headwall. Here, I encountered a rappel anchor left by a previous party.
Not feeling the stoke on it after an attempt, John gave it a try and decided to aid through it with a few birdbeaks and pins. The rope came tight and I followed, then led up through a narrowing chimney system to a crud filled gash, which ended in a slabby rock with a left and right option. With a big runout in the snowy chimney, I hammered a spectre into some frozen moss and then climbed up the right slab. Typical Chugach rock yielded nothing but seamed out cracks and downsloping features. Dead-ended, there was nothing left to do but tediously downclimb and go left. This provided better holds and higher up I could see a good place for an anchor. After setting up the anchor, John came up, then we rappelled down and to the right, then cut a small bivy platform the size of a beach towel. This was one of those times where mental fortitude took over, pushing my physical comfort and ability through a harder situation than I was comfortable with. Using Steve House's mantra of 'failing up,' I pushed through and surpassed my own limitations.

The morning couldn't have come soon enough. We brewed up then got going. John led off through a mbelayed from an ice bulge. The next several leads were great fun cruiser alpine ice, grade 3/4.

We thought we'd be off the route with the last pitch of day 2, which John led. It ended up being a 50' steep WI/AI6 drip that overhung at the top with a 'snicey' finish.
A 200' traverse put us over a hanging snowfield and we dug a comfy snowcave.
One more WI3 pitch in the morning and we unroped, then walked over and topped out on P. 6000'.and oderate dihedral, then

Fast forward to October 2007. Josh Varney and I spent two consecutive weekends in the Icicle Valley. After realizing we didn't have enough time to make a legitimate attempt on the unclimbed left ramp, we stashed our gear at the boulder bivy, then went home. The next weekend, we came back with more time and light packs. After picking up our gear at the
ree days we h a left boulder, we then continued up to the snow cone at the base of the route, where we cut a ledge and set up the Bibler.

The next morning was cold and clear, unfortunately, eight inches of snow fell the previous night. Determined, we decided to give it a shot regardless. After soloing up several steps of grade III alpine ice, we set up an anchor. Just then a powder slough came down. Then another. Then another. Each one got progressively bigger and chunkier. The last one knocked us off our feet, directly onto the hanging belay. We quickly rappelled and escaped.

November 29th and we're back out for another attempt. A perfect forecast lies ahead. Five days of moderate temps and bluebird skies. Josh and I make fast time up the valley, then bivy at the boulder. The next morning we wake early and reach the first pitch of our hopeful new route. We knew this would be the crux
of the route. The ramp is about 75+ degrees and is made up of seamless, featureless rock covered with about one inch of ice. Josh took the first lead, clipping a pair of screws we had left last time when we rapped off in haste. After placing a nut, he traversed left. It wasn't long before he deemed the route too dangerous to try, potentially even impossible with the use of aid. I belayed him back down and we bailed.

With the wind out of our sails, we eventually decided just to pack it up and go home. We discussed climbing Yukla by the standard Twincicle Pass route, but vowed to finally summit via a technical route instead of a walk up. For some reason, my quads had been cramping all weekend, so deciding to get out was probably for the best anyway.
We brought down all of our gear, and for the time being, we will focus our alpine attention on other mountains in the Chugach.

Mooses Tooth

2007-11-27T12:07:00.000-09:00

May 2007

Day Five in Talkeetna. Seth and I were running low on ideas to stale off boredom and frustration.

-Walk over to TAT and check conditions - Check
-Lay around downtown, gawk at tourists - Check
-Go to the river, skip rocks - Check
-Trespass on railroad tracks - Check
-Walk back to TAT, check conditions again - Check
-Take a nap - Check
-Climb a tree - Check
-Beer at West Rib - Check
-Pet Stubbs - Check

Time was running out. In five days, I had a date with the Wrangell-Saint Elias. 16,471' Mount Bona waited, and I couldn't miss that trip. This trip was a free bonus offered to me just days before. Bona was a commitment.

Day Six: Paul Roderick called early. "Conditions look good, let's go!" he said.
We quickly sprint to TAT, haul our heavy bags to the tarmack (for the God-knows-how-manyeth-time) only to be told that the Root Canal had just socked in again.
Disappointed, we slink away and repeat day five's events again.

Redemption!

Day Seven dawns clear and stable. T-minus four days until Bona. With a clear window, we plan to get in and get out in three days. Another party waits to be taken out later in the week so I should be OK. We rush to the TAT tarmack for what we hope is the last time.
The Turbo Otter is quickly loaded up.

Liftoff!

"Hmmm...what if I get stuck in there?
What if I am unable to make the Bona trip?"
Questions, doubt and a little fear of letting down my friends popped into my head as Talkeetna grew smaller under the plane.

The massive Ruth Glacier came into view as we left the lush green spruce covered landscape.

The four dead presidents (Church, Wake, Grosverner, and Bradley) came into view. London Tower, the Werewolf, the Broken Tooth loomed on my right.

Zooming around the Broken Tooth, we dove into the Root Canal. Paul eyed the landing site and dropped several weighted trash bags to mark the spot.
We veered around the Incisor and the golden granite of the Mooses Tooth met the untracked snow of the Root Canal glacier.

Skis touched glacier and we quickly came to a stop.
People out. Gear out. Thanks and a "see ya' later!" Then Paul was gone.
We set up camp and enjoyed the evening. The climbing should have started right away.

Snow. Weather. Fear.
"I won't be able to climb. I might not get out in time. I might miss Bona."

The next day dawned clear once again, but I knew the truth. I knew the snow would be back by mid-afternoon.

After hoofing up the Incisor and checking out the entire Ruth, we returned to camp, just as a massive serac broke from the hanging glacier on the Bear Tooth.

1PM and the snow began to fall. It didn't take long for a game of hearts to get going. While fun, climbing would have been better. The Ham and Eggs couloir roared and rumbled as rock, ice and snow avalanched down the narrow slot.

After that night, it was apparent that there would be no chance for both Mooses Tooth and Bona, so I had to decide. My commitment was bound to Bona, so I was forced to leave. Early the next morning, Paul graciously made a quick landing in the Root after dropping off some climbers in the Gorge. After picking up several nice folks at the Mountain House, we were Talkeetna bound.

It was hard to leave, but ultimately I feel I made the right choice. My three friends sat out a big storm and another foot of snow. They didn't even get on the route until four days later. Hitting the col after c. 18 hours of climbing, they were pelted with constant light sluffs and chunks. "The conditions weren't that great," they said. Apparently that was an understatement.

If there is one good thing to rejoice about, it is that my photographer friend who invited me on the trip didn't get the images he needed. The word: we should be going back this May. This time with more than 48 hours invitation. This time with more planning.

In the end, I made it to the summit of Mount Bona. The Alaska Range and Wrangell-Saint Elias are without a doubt two of the most amazing mountainous areas on the planet.