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The Prescription—Fall on Ice | Protection Pulled Out

Ice is a fickle medium that is hard to assess. This month we’re highlighting an accident report from ANAC 2023 involving a leader fall that was compounded by pulled protection. Though the climber was very experienced, this accident underlines that even as more people climb ice than ever before, it takes years of experience to accurately gauge conditions. Also, climate change is increasing the hazards of rockfall, avalanches, ice collapse, and generally warmer ice.

Tim Thompson (circled in yellow) climbing on the Finger of Fate prior to his accident. The gray, bubbly, and unbonded ice in the lower section of the photo reflects the warm temperatures on the day prior. Dustin Lyons

Fall on Ice | Protection Pulled Out

Provo Canyon, Upper Provo Falls

Utah County Sheriff’s Search and Rescue was dispatched at 11:09 a.m. on December 26 to aid an ice climber who had fallen from the first pitch of Finger of Fate (3 pitches, WI4+) in Provo Canyon.

The climber, Tim Thompson (29), was nearing the end of the first pitch when ice sheared from under his left foot. He wrote to ANAC that he was “pushed forward into my ice tools and my relaxed grip caused me to fall.” Thompson’s uppermost screw pulled out of the ice, causing him to fall a total of 50 feet.

Utah County team members arrived and, with the help of the climbers already on scene, evaluated the ice conditions, established an equalized anchor with six screws at the base of the climb, and developed a plan to move the patient horizontally about 100 feet over steep, slippery terrain to a five-by-ten-foot ledge that was out of the rockfall and icefall area. Conditions were deteriorating, the ice was becoming less cohesive as temperatures rose, and rocks were starting to fall.

A Department of Public Safety (DPS) helicopter crew did a reconnaissance of the ledge and determined that it would be a suitable place for a hoist operation. The patient was then short-hauled from the ledge to a nearby parking lot, where an ambulance was waiting. He was airlifted to a hospital and assessed to have two broken vertebrae, a broken elbow, torn ligaments in an elbow, and a badly broken left wrist.

Tim Thompson after falling from the first pitch of Finger of Fate. Rescuers short-hauled him by helicopter to a waiting ambulance. Photo: Dustin Lyons.

ANALYSIS

Warm conditions make ice climbing hazardous. Recalls Thompson: “The weather was warm the day before. Temps overnight were about 28°F for almost 10 or 12 hours and were hovering around 31°F or 32°F while climbing. We felt confident that the ice had had enough time to heal, and that as long as we climbed quickly, we were in no danger.”

Running water, heat retained by the underlying rock, and even indirect solar radiation can prevent ice from refreezing. The warm temperatures also affected the quality of Thompson’s protection. He wrote to ANAC, “When I put in the last ice screw, the ice was really soft. Up until the last quarter of the route, the ice [had been] really healthy and the screw placements were really good. I got several really solid screws lower on the route, and the second-to-last one (the one that caught me) was in really bomber ice.”

Thompson did well to place extra gear that he might have dismissed as unnecessary. Before the final section of the pitch, he says, “I remember pulling onto the ice after a ledge rest and deciding to step back down and place a high screw. I knew that would be a lot of protection, as the last screw was just below my feet. But if I had not placed this screw, I would have hit the deck from almost 100 feet up. Things could have been a lot worse.”

Sources: Salt Lake County Sheriff’s Search and Rescue and Tim Thompson.

The Prescription—Video Series

Warm conditions make ice climbing hazardous. Pete Takeda, editor of Accidents in North American Climbing, and IMGA/AMGA Guide Jason Antin are back to explain the hazards ice climbers face in warm conditions, such as protection pulling, poor tool placements, and shearing crampons.

Producers: Shane Johnson and Sierra McGivney; Videographer: Foster Denney; Editor: Sierra McGivney

Location: Silver Plume Falls, Silver Plume, CO

A NOTE FROM THE EDITOR

Over time an ice climber learns to gauge conditions and most importantly, when to go for it and when to back off. This is a long and experience-based learning curve. The biggest lesson is: If it doesn’t feel right, don’t do it. Whether a novice or an experienced ice climber, don’t factor luck into your decision-making.

Utah guide Derek DeBruin’s flowchart is a handy tool to assess ice climbing decision-making on any given day:

This flowchart can assist in managing hazards by helping determine the stability of the ice, the effectiveness of ice screw protection, and the quality of ice tool placements. Downloadable versions are available here.

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The Prescription—Quickdraw Unclipped

Accessible, low-key, and enjoyable, Pilot Mountain State Park in North Carolina was the scene of a serious accident in March 2023. The mishap was a classic case of climbers doing all the right things yet still having an accident. Idawriter | Wiki Commons

Fall on Rock | Quickdraw Unclipped from Bolt Hanger

North Carolina, Pilot Mountain State Park

My climbing partner (31) and I, Alec Gilmore (29), went sport climbing at Pilot Mountain State Park in March 2023. I have ten years of climbing experience, and my partner has six, and we both take pride in our risk assessment and careful approach. The first route we planned to climb was occupied, so we found a nearby route that neither of us had previously tried. We incorrectly identified the route as a 5.7. The route was actually Goodness Gracious (5.10a). I quickly realized the route was harder, but I had previously led up to 5.11 here, so I went on and clipped three bolts and then hung to work out the crux. It involved throwing a high heel hook and manteling onto an awkward bulge.

This photo, taken immediately after Gilmore fell, shows the alpine quickdraw that came unclipped from a bolt hanger. Alec Gilmore 

I got partially over the bulge and needed to make one more move but couldn't find a good handhold. I ended up falling off. Instead of stopping, I hit the ground after falling 20 feet. Both feet landed on a flat rock step on the main hiking trail. My belayer took up enough slack so that the rope started to catch right as my feet hit. After lying on the ground, overcoming the initial shock and pain, I realized that the alpine quickdraw that I had clipped into the third bolt was still clipped to the rope. Somehow as I was wrestling with the move, it had come unclipped from the hanger. I was wearing a helmet, but fortunately I did not hit my head or back during the fall.

Park staffers were alerted by a nearby climber, and in about 30 to 45 minutes a team of park employees, other climbers, and volunteers arrived and loaded me onto a transport basket. For the next hour and a half, they carried me back up to the summit, where an ambulance was waiting. At one point they rigged a rope and hauled me up a steep hill to shorten the journey. At the hospital, X-rays showed I had fractured both heel bones. One of the fractures was bad enough to require surgery, and I received a plate and four screws.

ANALYSIS

The first mistake we made was not being sure of what route we were climbing. We had recently been trying routes we hadn't previously climbed. The route I fell from was on my to-do list, but the plan was to warm up with an easier route.

The second mistake was the positioning of the carabiner on the bolt hanger. I knew that it was possible for a carabiner to unclip from a bolt hanger if it's pulled up against the wall in a certain way. I try to keep the spine of the carabiner pointed in the direction I'm climbing. When I was clipping the third bolt, I thought I would climb toward the left side of the bulge. The line turned out to go right. Somehow, as I wrestled with the move, the quickdraw came unclipped.

It’s an unsettling thought, but carabiners can, on rare occasions, unclip from bolt hangers. When the bolt is clipped from right to left and the hanger angles down to the right, tension on the quickdraw can raise the carabiner and lever the gate open. Foster Denney 

Editor’s Note:  This is a classic case of fellow climbers doing all the right things yet still having an accident.

Though rare, carabiners can come unclipped from bolt hangers. A few things to consider: The hanger-clipping-end carabiner should be loose in the sling, never held by a rubber keeper. Both carabiners on a quickdraw should be oriented with the gates facing the same direction. As Alec mentions, quickdraws should be clipped so the gates are oriented away from the direction of travel. 

 The direction in which one clips also can be a factor in certain cases. Clipping the opposite direction from the angle of the carabiner hole will minimize the possibility of the carabiner levering against the hanger and unclipping. Almost all plate-style bolt hangers have the clipping section on the left side of the hanger. So, the ideal clipping direction would be from left to right. Other factors (like the ones mentioned above) may be more important in a given situation, but when you have a choice, this is the preferred method.

For even more security, a safer play is to flip the gate so it opens downwards. Better yet, if the clip is critical, e.g. before or after a runout, use a locking carabiner on the hanger end of the quickdraw.

 (Source: Alec Gilmore and the Editors.)

The Prescription—Video Series

Under some circumstances, quickdraws can unclip themselves. Pete Takeda, editor of Accidents in North American Climbing, and IFMGA/AMGA guide Jason Antin are back to show you that clipping bolts isn’t always as simple as it seems. Dive in to get the accident analysis informing these takeaways, and some quick tips on how to mitigate risk when clipping bolt hangers.

Credits:
Pete Takeda, Editor of Accidents in North American Climbing, and Jason Antin @jasonantin, IFMGA/AMGA Certified Mountain Guide; Producer: Shane Johnson; Cinematographer or Videographer: Foster Denney; Editor: Sierra McGivney; Location: Accessibility Crag, Clear Creek Canyon, CO; Presenting Sponsor: Rocky Talkie @rockytalkies.

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EDUCATE: The Forgotten Stonemaster

We are so excited to have longtime AAC member Rick Accomazzo on the podcast to chat about his new book “Tobin, the Stonemasters, and Me, 1970-1980.” This book is part memoir of Rick’s own early climbing career, part revealing biography of Tobin Sorenson, the forgotten Stonemaster who was an incredible all-arounder; and part a distillation of a decade of climbing culture. With these three threads, the book weaves together many untold climbing stories from an iconic, pivotal decade, from “before climbing lost its innocence,” as John Long says in his forward to the book. Listen to the episode to hear some key stories from the book and learn about the ten-year process of putting it together.

We’d also like to congratulate Rick for his book being longlisted for the Banff Mountain Literature Award! Dive into the episode to get your dose of forgotten climbing history. You can grab your own copy at stonemasterbooks.com

The Prescription: Cams and Magical Thinking—October 2024

Cams might not be as bomber as you think. We are stoked to kick off our Prescription video series by unpacking some magical thinking around cams. This video series will give you greater detail and visual insight into the accidents analyzed in our monthly Prescription newsletters. Featuring Accidents in North American Climbing Editor Pete Takeda, and IFMGA/AMGA Mountain Guide Jason Antin, these bite-sized lessons will get you thinking about how this accident analysis applies to you and your climbing.

For Rocktober we have two accidents that represent a larger trend we noticed in 2023. This trend involves: 1) Placing an inadequate number of protection pieces and 2) Poorly placed camming protection.

Lead Fall on Rock | Cam Pulled Out

Smith Rock State Park, Morning Glory Wall

The crux section of Lion’s Chair Start (5.10c/d R) at Smith Rock. The larger red circle marks the bolt that Genereux was attempting to clip, prior to falling to the ground. The smaller red circle marks the location of the 0.4 cam that pulled out when he fell. Photo: Garrett Genereux.

Garrett Genereux submitted the following report to ANAC:

At the end of a great day of climbing on May 15, my partner Lance (30) and I, Garrett Genereux (34), decided to do one last route on our way out of the main area. We stopped at Lion’s Chair Start (5.10c/d R). As usual, no one was on it despite the routes on both sides being busy. I had been on the route several times before.

I didn't realize how tired I was until on the route. I was trying to conserve energy by not placing too much pro. I was about one body length above my first two pieces of gear and placed a 0.4 cam. My belayer asked if it was a good placement. I assured him that it was fine and kept moving. As I approached the first bolt, where the crack pinches down, I became very fatigued and started getting scared. I wanted to clip the bolt as fast as I could. I was able to hang the draw at my farthest reach. Then I pulled up rope to make the clip. As I inched the rope closer to the lower carabiner, my left foot greased off and I fell.

There was a ton of rope in the system, and when I heard the 0.4 plink out of the crack, I knew I was going to the ground. My left foot briefly hit and then I landed on my butt. I lost my breath and made some guttural noises trying to get it back. I lay supine. My ankle hurt and my lower back was pretty tight, but I had full sensation and movement below. I even remember feeling like I needed to pee while lying there and took that as a good sign.

The folks nearby were able to clean up the lower pieces and someone with the longest stick clip I've ever seen, snagged the draw off the bolt. Someone let me borrow their camp chair. I was able to slip off my climbing shoes. My left ankle was dark in color and already beginning to swell, but I could bear weight and felt that we didn’t need a crew to carry me out.

My partner carried the gear and I used my stick clip as a walking stick as we hiked to the road. My ankle was just a soft-tissue injury, and my back had compression fractures at T12, L1, and L2. Two months later, I was back climbing and feeling well. Since then I have even gotten back on the same route. I sewed it up with 11 pieces rather than three.

ANALYSIS

Simply put, I did not place enough protection. In the first 15 feet, I only placed three pieces: a nut and a cam protecting the start and then the 0.4 cam that pulled. Also, I could have climbed a bit higher to a better hold and clipped the bolt with the same amount of rope in the system as I had when I fell. I also should have checked in with myself mentally and physically. While it is not the most difficult route, it does take focus and it gets an R rating in the newest guide. (Source: Garrett Genereux.)

Leader Fall on Rock | Protection Pulled Out

Lander, Sinks Canyon, Sandstone Buttress

Gunky (5.8) is a popular route in Sinks Canyon that protects well with hexes and nuts. Familiarity with passive gear and more cam-placing skills might have helped prevent an accident that occurred in July 2023. The high X marks where Taylor fell, and the low X marks where he landed. Photo: Joe M.

On the morning of July 10, Mac Taylor (25) fell on the first pitch of Gunky (2 pitches, 5.8). He wrote the following account for ANAC:

“Two friends and I hiked to the base of Gunky (5.8) at the Sandstone Buttress. I was new to the area. We hiked with gear on our harnesses while carrying ropes and a bag with water and extra gear. I decided to lead the first pitch, despite being told that there was a scary roof section. Part of the reason I chose to lead it was that I already had most of the gear racked on my harness. On the route, I placed a large nut and a number 1 Camalot. I then clipped a bolt and placed a 0.75 Camalot in a shallow slot deep in the crack that I was climbing. 

“Halfway up the pitch, I rested and placed a number 2 Camalot deep in an offwidth-sized crack. I laybacked the crack and got established below the roof. From there, I struggled to find comfortable holds. I was about 10 feet above my last piece.

“I decided to backtrack. My belayer was pulling in slack while I downclimbed. About five feet above my last piece, I fell. My hands slipped first, and my feet were still on the wall. I flipped upside down and pulled two pieces. The number 2 was a good placement, but it was placed straight in the crack, not oriented in the direction of the fall. It levered out and tweaked the cam lobes. The 0.75 just pulled out. I was caught by the bolt after falling 30 feet. My belayer was yanked up then dropped back to the ground as the last piece pulled. This resulted in bruising on their elbows and lower back. I split my lip, sprained my ankle, and cut up my left forearm, with heavy bruising on the right side of my abdomen from my harness.  

“I had stopped right before hitting a ledge. I was lowered to our belay stance, a very large ledge above a slabby wall. My belayer ran down to the car to grab my first-aid kit while I lay on the ground. In the parking lot was an AMGA guide who was also a Wilderness Emergency Medical Technician (WEMT). Rather than navigate the entire approach, the guide lowered me down the slabby wall. I walked out with the help of my friends, and we went to the emergency room. I was given a stirrup and crutches for my ankle, and I got stitches in my lip. I had no internal injuries.”

ANALYSIS

Taylor wrote, “I think the two biggest factors were my overconfidence and my poor gear placements. I had been warned the route had a scary section, and it was the hardest trad climb I would have done up to that time. I definitely should have let a friend lead this pitch while I took the second, less scary pitch. I also really thought I had placed some good pieces on the climb. I should go back and practice my placements more and get some critical feedback from someone more experienced.” (Source: Mac Taylor.)

Editor’s Note: Cams vs. Nuts

In the 2024 ANAC, there were 13 accidents caused or aggravated by pulled protection. All of them involved a failed cam placement. Whether placed by a novice or professional climber, none of the pulled protection was a nut, hex, or other passive gear.

In my own climbing career, I’ve been as guilty as anyone when it came to magical thinking around cams. When I got my hands on a set of rigid Friends (the first commercially viable spring-loaded camming devices) they were like fast food—quick and convenient. The subconscious belief was that devices of such expense and complexity must have had hidden powers. In some cases, cams outperformed our expectations. But we were to discover that also like fast food, cams came with hidden health risks. I’d often find myself placing a marginal cam, even when there was an obvious and solid nut placement staring me in the face. On several occasions, a poorly runnered cam fell out below my feet, creating a unexpected runout. Another time while I belayed, my partner fell, snapping the shaft of a poorly placed Friend. After these incidents I embarked on a trad curriculum that saw me using only passive gear for a good part of an entire season.

While not as sexy as a rack of the latest cams, a set of hexes, nuts, and Tricams provides light, simple, and intuitive protection. Though cams are often “easier” to place and frequently cover a wide size range, they are also intricate and fussy gadgets that require advanced skill to properly set and assess. As Taylor notes above, simply not orienting the stem in the direction of loading can cause an otherwise good placement to lever out. It is good to remember that although cams will sometimes hold in flares, soft rock, choss, and in shallow placements, sometimes they don’t. And due to a multitude of unseen factors inherent to their mechanism of action, cams can even fail in perfect looking placements.

—Pete Takeda, ANAC Editor

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The Prescription—September

The following report describes an accident at Seneca Rocks, West Virginia. This is a longer form version of a report than what will be published in the 2024 Accidents in North American Climbing. If you are a Partner Level Member or above, Accidents will arrive in your mailbox any day.

The book is filled with examples of both good and bad luck—unfortunately, mainly the latter. This tragic accident occurred on the third pitch of a popular route at Seneca Rocks when a climber with three years of experience took an intentional leader fall. The rope was not running over an edge, his gear was in perfect working order, and his belayer made no mistakes. He expected a safe, albeit long fall. Instead, the rope was severed and he tragically fell to his death.

The third and final pitch of Simple J Malarkey climbs through the overlaps and triangular roofs seen here rising above and slightly left of the prominent cave. This pitch was the scene of a fatal rope-cutting accident (marked with a yellow X) in August 2023. Krzysztof Gorny

Fall On Rock | Carabiner Cut Rope

Monongahela National Forest, Seneca Rocks

Arthur Kearns, local guide and owner of The Gendarme Climbing Shop and the Seneca Rocks Climbing School, submitted the following report:

On August 5, a party of two started up Simple J Malarkey (3 pitches, 5.7). The top of the second pitch ends in a corner alcove with overhanging rock above. At the start of the third pitch, the leader, Danny Gerhart (24), placed a 0.75 Camalot just above the belay, before attempting to climb up and left. Gerhart encountered a wasp’s nest and stepped back down to the belay. He then stepped down and to the right on the ramp that ends the second pitch. This was the sequence most used by other climbers.

Gerhart was now about five feet away from the belay. He placed a second 0.75 Camalot before moving up and left to a second alcove, about eight feet above and to the right of the belay. Here, Gerhart placed a number 3 Camalot in a shallow, slightly flaring pocket. (This piece was found with both extended and non-extended alpine draws attached.) At this point, he removed the second 0.75 Camalot to prevent excessive rope drag. 

Gerhart attempted to move up and right from this stance, which is the most used sequence. This crux section requires the leader to move over a roof on a four-foot-high plaque of rock. Though protection is available, the leader cannot see it until they have committed to the crux, and even then, the placement is behind the climber and at waist level. The handholds here could be described as less than inspiring, as water drains onto them from above, adding a polished feel to the rock. Having found no gear, Gerhart stepped back down to the previous stance and discussed options with the belayer. By then, the sun was peeking over the top, making route-finding more difficult. The climbing team discussed options before Gerhart decided to move up and left.

Climbing above the last piece and not finding additional protection, Gerhart called down to the belayer, informing them that he was going to take a deliberate fall (acknowledging it was “going to be a big one”). He then let go and fell around 12 feet before loading the rope. The belayer reported having enough time to take in two to four feet of slack before hearing a very loud “gunshot” as the rope exploded. The belayer never felt the falling climber load the belay, and Gerhart fell approximately 130 feet to the ground. 

While numerous climbing parties immediately responded to give aid, the fallen climber passed at the scene. 

Evidence points to the rope being cut by the rope-end carabiner (a Petzl Spirit) on the extended alpine draw attached to the number 3 Camalot. The carabiner remained attached to the fully extended alpine draw and was situated on a slabby portion of rock just below the Camalot. Fuzzy remains from the rope sheath were found inside the carabiner. No rope sheath material was found on any nearby rock edges or the slabby rock face. Photos from the accident scene show about seven feet of rope extending from the tie-in on Gerhart’s harness. Three to four feet of core was exposed where the rope cut. The individual core bundles were all severed at the same length; this indicates a definitive “cut” versus extended shredding over an edge.

 ANALYSIS

Kearns wrote the following analysis:

How the carabiner cut the rope is difficult to visualize. But here is my attempt to explain it. The rope leaving the belayer moved up through the first piece and past the slightly overhanging rock above. The overhang included a six-to-eight-inch-wide V-slot that likely inhibited the belay strand from moving laterally to the right. At the time of impact, the belay strand of the rope would have been lying on the slabby rock face above before entering the backside of the carabiner, which in turn was clipped to the extended draw on the number 3 Camalot. In the same way the load strand in an ATC Guide locks down on the belay strand, so did the leader’s end of the rope. It wrapped around the carabiner, crushing down on the belay strand and the rock below it, and thus focusing the entire load of the fall onto the small section of rope between Gerhart and the cam.

 

In this highly unusual accident, the carabiner on the rope-bearing end of an alpine quickdraw appears to have acted like a belay device configured in guide mode. The load-bearing/climber strand (on top) trapped the belay strand (on bottom, under the carabiner) between the carabiner and the rock. The rope was severed. No rock edge was involved in cutting the rope, and no rope sheath material was observed on the rock. Drawing by Foster Denney

 

In essence, Gerhart took a factor-two fall onto the carabiner. In fact, he may have achieved something greater than a factor-two fall, as the pinched rope effectively reduced the rope in the system to around six feet. I’ll leave it up to someone more qualified to calculate the force load of a climber falling an estimated 9 to 11 feet on around six feet of rope and all that energy being applied at the bend at the carabiner and onto the belay strand. Needless to say, it was enough to instantly sever the rope. 

One tragic fact: It’s quite possible that Gerhart’s extended sling may have perfectly positioned the carabiner at the time the piece was placed, but then tragically the carabiner shifted into the fateful position. Had the carabiner been just two inches to the left or right, it would no longer have been lying on rock but hanging in free space. Would extending the sling on the first piece Gerhart placed have changed the location of the carabiner in question at the time of impact? This is unknown, as the first piece was ultimately removed by the belayer before they rappelled to the ground, so we were not able to replicate exactly how the rope was running. 

Apart from the fact that Gerhart was slightly off route, this was, in my opinion, a freak accident. Two inches of movement in the carabiner could have made the difference between life and death.

(Source: Arthur Kearns, guide, Seneca Rocks Climbing School.)

Editor’s Note from Pete Takeda:

After hearing of this incident, I emailed Kearns—a very experienced local guide. Kearns climbed Simple J Malarkey the day after the accident with a fellow guide. Kearns came to the conclusion above, based on the pair’s observations, discussions with the belayer, and their intimate knowledge of the area and the route.

I also extensively interviewed and eventually went climbing with the belayer. I was assured that the rope was in good condition and had not been exposed to any compromising chemicals.

On @hownot2, Ryan Jenks posted his assessment and wrote, "After testing… it (the rope) seems normal and broke at an acceptable force."

The belayer also sent the intact section of rope to Ryan Jenks of HowNot2 for break testing. Jenks posted his assessment on Instagram. He felt that, “It’s unclear what happened. Be as safe as you can climbing but there are inherent risks. We lost one of the good ones..”

Finally, the belayer wrote to ANAC: “I think about the HowNot2 video where Ryan tested the rope (9.4mm) and how he showed an example of a (different) #3 Camalot that took a lot (an unknown amount) of force and was mangled. The number 3 Danny fell on looked in perfect condition after the accident. I don’t know how much force it would take to deform it (BD website says number 3’s have a 12kN strength), but Ryan implied in the video that if the rope broke due to force alone (in the video it broke at 10.86/11.33 kN) the cam should have deformed. I just think the rope MUST have cut or at least abraded somewhere right around the carabiner. Also, in that video the broken ends looked different than they did from the accident. In the video the core wasn’t sticking out or hiding way back in the sheath. After the accident my end of the rope had a few inches of empty sheath extending beyond the core.”

Note from Rob Chisnall, the ANAC Canada Editor:

Rob Chisnall is a climbing safety consultant and member of the American Academy of Forensic Sciences. He testifies in civil cases involving climbing accidents and also in criminal cases involving homicide, suicide, auto-erotic fatality, and other misadventures involving knots and ligatures. 

Chisnall reviewed Kearn’s report and wrote to ANAC that “the explanation is sound.” He further noted that:

  1. Ropes have been getting thinner, and lightweight carabiners no longer bear a round cross section. Stress-strain analyses have allowed manufacturers to eliminate unnecessary metal from carabiners, giving many carabiners a T or H cross section (sharper edges).  

  2. Sport ropes are now typically less than 10 mm in diameter, the one in question being 9.4 mm. So, whatever pinch point was created, the same force would have been applied to a much smaller surface area compared to decades ago. The carabiner might have momentarily resembled something akin to a blunt cutting edge. And maybe the rock surface at the pinch/cutting point was overtly convex, thus concentrating the force even more.

  3. I've observed people having problems when lowering off slabs, then onto vertical walls or past overhangs. In this case, the angle between the parts of the rope exiting the carabiner might have been reduced to zero, creating a pinch point.

  4. Judging from the description of the damaged rope, it appears the sheath cut first and shifted position, exposing the core strands, which then cut cleanly in one place—they probably instantaneously flattened out.

  5. Ropes [that] cut via lateral movement over a sharp edge do not go “BANG.” The belayer clearly recalled a very loud “gunshot” noise as the rope exploded. In less dramatic breakages, a rope pulled straight to failure usually makes a snapping sound, like an elastic band.

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The Prescription—August

A Parks Canada rescue helicopter responds to an accident on Mt. Louis on August 20, 2023 (Mt. Edith in the background). Mt. Louis is an iconic limestone tower and home to several popular multi-pitch rock climbs. Though some are moderate in grade, they all offer a Canadian Rockies–style adventure. Photo: Parks Canada

The following report describes an accident in the Canadian Rockies that will be published in the upcoming 2024 Accidents in North American Climbing. While reviewing last year’s accidents, a particularly improbable incident stood out. Almost exactly a year ago, a climber fell, unroped, from the fourth-pitch belay anchor of a 15-pitch climb. After tumbling 35 meters, he came to rest on a ledge three pitches above the ground, having suffered only minor injuries. One might attribute this incident to a form of benign intervention, a guidance bordering on the divine. Or it might have been simple good luck. Read on.

Fall From Anchor | Tether Clipped Incorrectly

Alberta, Banff National Park, Mt. Louis

At 5 a.m. on August 20, 2023, Alistair Hall (34) and I, Adam Laycock (33) started our approach to attempt the Gmoser Route of Mt. Louis. While this 15-pitch 5.9 has bolted anchors, it is also an old-school trad route that would push our limits for climbing on gear. Alistair was confident in his ability to lead the crux pitch. Although it was our first time on this mountain, we were both locals and familiar with the chossy nature of the Canadian Rockies. We did plenty of research and felt confident in the route and conditions that day.

Our ascent was slower than we had anticipated. By the time we reached the top of pitch six, it was midafternoon, and with ten pitches remaining, we decided to back off the climb. The belay stations were bolted, so we chose to descend the same way we had ascended. Rappelling pitches six and five was uneventful.

After I finished rappelling pitch five, I secured myself to the anchor with my personal anchor system (PAS). My PAS was a 120mm nylon sling, girth-hitched through my belay loop, with two knots for length adjustment. The belay stance was narrow, prompting me to shorten my PAS by moving my locking carabiner to a knotted loop closer to my belay loop. I then clipped my carabiner into one of the rappel rings, locked it, weighted my PAS to test it, and took myself off rappel. I spent a few minutes preparing the rope for the next rappel, threading it through the rappel rings, coiling it, and adding a knot for safety.

Then I fell. I was not connected to the wall or rope, and there were four pitches of high-angle terrain beneath me. I tumbled for 35 meters, the full length of the 5.6 fourth pitch. I ultimately came to a halt on a sloping ledge. I was conscious. I screamed, crying out for help from Alistair, who was above me, and the hikers below. Under my legs was one of our half-ropes, in which I tied a figure-8 on a bight and clipped it to my belay loop. I yelled to Alistair that I was alive and secure, but injured, and there was no need to descend to me.

My left ankle was visibly disfigured and unable to support any weight. Clearly unable to self-rescue, I used my inReach device to send an SOS message. Within half an hour of my fall, a Parks Canada rescue helicopter located us on the rock face and began the rescue.

A Parks Canada rescuer attends to Laycock after his 35-meter fall. Laycock recalls, “My pants were shredded from the fall. The ledge was narrow and down-sloping and I imagine if I had been unconscious I could have slid further. When I landed, I was stable enough to secure myself, but it was a precarious position.”  Photo: Parks Canada 

ANALYSIS

Laycock’s accident was eerily similar to another recent incident, suffered by a climber in Arizona. Both fallen climbers had tied overhand knots in a 120cm length loop of 20mm sewn webbing to create adjustment pockets for a home-made PAS. This is a common practice. In both cases, it appears that the tether was not clipped correctly with the carabiner, but instead the knot caught in the bottom, non-gated end of the tether carabiner.

In the August 2023 accident and another in 2021, a tether carabiner of the same model had a bottom basket that was flat enough and shaped in such way as to allow a knot to temporarily hold weight, if only for a few minutes. In this recreation, note that the the jammed knot is pulled up and above the clipping point—almost visually identical to a correctly clipped daisy loop. Photo: Pete Takeda

 

Detaching and reattaching a carabiner from a daisy pocket or lanyard introduces an opportunity for error. After suffering his potentially fatal fall, Laycock wrote ANAC: “To shorten my PAS at an anchor, I won’t unclip the first (longest) loop anymore. I'll clip an additional locking carabiner in the shorter loop, then clip it to the first locker (Editor’s Note: This is inherently easier to visually evaluate). Previously, and in the case of my accident, I would completely unclip from one loop and reclip the closer knotted loop.” Graphic: Foster Denney

A contributing factor to the accident was that Laycock’s daisy knot was unusually bulky from being unevenly tied. This increased the possibility of the knot sticking in the bottom of the carabiner. He wrote, “Despite weighting my PAS to test it, the poorly dressed overhand knot briefly supported my weight.” He added, “Before the knot slipped through the carabiner, I failed to thoroughly check my anchorage to account for human error.”

It is worth noting that the critical section of webbing was hard to assess. The two strands that created the clipping pocket were of the same color and were flush with each other. Additionally, the rappel station was on a ledge, hampering a full weight test. In the end, sheer luck might have saved Laycock’s life.

He wrote, “During my fall, I tangled myself in the rope below, which was still being used by Alistair to rappel pitch five. This might have slowed my fall enough for me to stop on the ledge. We had two 70m half-ropes that hung 30 or 35 meters below the pitch-four anchor. When I hit the ledge, I was sitting on the tail of the rope, and I was still five to seven meters above the pitch three anchor.

“Also, my helmet, though it ended up broken, allowed me to remain conscious. Considering what could have happened, my injuries were minor: a fractured left fibula requiring surgery, and numerous abrasions.” (Sources: Adam Laycock, ANAC 2022, and the Editors.)

From the ANAC Report Archive:

Here are two incidents from past ANACs indicating ways climbers can be disconnected from anchors. Tragically, both of these ended with fatal injuries.

PAS Disconnected on Half Dome’s Snake Dike (ANAC 2016)

Knotted Sling Comes Undone on Grand Teton (ANAC 2017)

In all of the cases discussed here, a closer look and more vigorous weight-testing of the anchor connection might have prevented a disastrous accident. A common thread: the technical error occurred while the daisy/tether system was unweighted. The fall occurred only as or after bodyweight was applied to the system.

Note that while climbers place much emphasis on anchors themselves, there are numerous and equally consequential errors to be made while attaching and detaching oneself from the anchor. It is critical yet often ignored step, to triple check your connection.

From the ANAC Essentials Archive:

For more detail on making a clear weight transitions from one piece of cord, rope, or webbing to another, see outdoor educator, and climbing author Molly Loomis’ 2017 Essentials: Clear Weight Transitions.

Get Accidents in North American Climbing Mailed to You!

Published annually since 1948, Accidents in North American Climbing documents the year’s most significant and teachable climbing accidents. Each incident is analyzed by experts to show what went wrong in order to help climber avoid similar problems in the future.

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The Prescription—July 2024

Summer has officially arrived and climbers are turning their attentions to northerly latitudes, higher elevations, and lofty peaks. This month we feature two accidents that took place last summer on Teewinot (12,330 feet) in Grand Teton National Park, Wyoming. While these accidents differ in immediate cause and final outcome, they share a common origin: the use of hiking-specific applications for selection, preparation, and route-finding, versus the use of climbing-specific resources.

Last year, Grand Teton National Park was the eighth most-visited U.S. national park. The year 2023 also saw a disturbing trend in which technical climbs were listed on popular hiking-specific apps. This contributed to several rescues and one fatality. Photo: Acroterion | Wikimedia

Stranded | Inexperience With Snow Climbing

Grand Teton National Park, Teewinot Mountain

On July 14 at 3:45 p.m., National Park Service personnel received a cell phone call from two young climbers stuck on Teewinot (12,330 feet). The male climbers, aged 19 and 20 years, reported that they were on a snowfield north of the Idol and Worshiper rock formations. They were carrying ice axes but did not know how to use them. They also reported that the snow was soft and they were unable to descend any further. The incident commander coached them on proper descent practices. The climbers then reported over the phone that, despite this assistance, they still needed a rescue.

Two NPS climbing rangers were deployed, and rescuers got to the stranded climbers at 6 p.m. The distressed climbers were lowered on rope systems until they reached the bottom of the snowfield and a dry trail at 7:30 p.m. After resting and rewarming for 45 minutes, the climbers requested that they be allowed to descend at their own slower pace to the parking lot.

The East Face of Teewinot (yellow line) was the scene of several rescues and one fatal fall in 2023. A late start, the large team size, and reliance on a popular hiking app contributed to this tragedy. Photo: Acroterion | Wikimedia

ANALYSIS

There have been multiple similar instances of climbers in the Tetons being unprepared for their objectives, both during 2023 and in previous years. The summer climbing season in the range often starts with snow-covered peaks and ends with almost exclusively rock climbing terrain. During transition periods, climbers need to be prepared for the current conditions and not the ideal conditions.

In recent seasons, rangers have noticed an increase in technical climbing routes being listed on hiking-specific applications and websites. Many 4th- and 5th-class rock climbs with high risk and fall potential are listed incorrectly as hikes. Climbers are reminded to gather their route information from fellow climbers and climbing-specific resources.

(Source: Grand Teton National Park Search and Rescue Report.)  

An NPS rescuer and climber being short-hauled from an accident on Teewinot (background) in August 2023. Photo: Dave Weber

Fatal Fall | Climbing Unroped

Grand Teton National Park, Teewinot Mountain

On August 10, a team of nine climbers were attempting to climb Teewinot via the East Face (low 5th class). Upon nearing the summit, a 47-year-old female climber in the group fell about 150 feet to her death. The team decided to send one climber down to get help, while the rest stayed in place and called for help via cell phone. NPS personnel were contacted at 7:30 p.m.

After a helicopter reconnaissance, given the late hour and waning daylight, the decision was made to send a ground team to assist the stranded climbers. Four climbing rangers were deployed at 10:30 p.m., and they arrived on scene at 2:15 a.m. and spent the rest of the night with the climbers. During the morning of August 11, three helicopter shuttles brought the rescuers and climbers back to the valley. A short-haul operation then retrieved the deceased climber.  

ANALYSIS

Several factors contributed to this unfortunate accident.

  1. Late Start. The team started their ascent in the afternoon, well after most climbers would recommend. An NPS volunteer who was descending the peak at 2 p.m. informed the team on the lateness of their ascent and that other climbers were already descending from the summit. The volunteer also pointed out the lack of necessary equipment to safely continue. Despite this, the team continued up.

  2. Large Team. Having nine climbers in the group likely contributed to this accident. Larger teams almost always move slower than smaller teams, as rest breaks and decision-making can be prolonged.

  3. Use of Hiking Apps. This team relied on information taken from a popular hiking application (as previously discussed in this Prescription). This climb in particular is listed on several platforms as a hike. Interviews with survivors revealed they were under the impression that the East Face of Teewinot was a traditional hike. It is a fifth-class climb.

    (Source: Grand Teton National Park Search and Rescue Report.) 

Fig 1: Screenshot of the AllTrails.com Teewinot page taken on July 7, 2024.

EDITOR’S NOTE:

While preparing these reports for the soon-to-be-released 2024 Accidents in North American Climbing, I found several popular hiking apps featured the East Face of Teewinot. The most disturbing representation was on AllTrails.com. On the page for Teewinot, the climb was referred to as a “trail” not once, but three times (See Fig 1.). The strongest warning given was to “proceed cautiously” on a “highly challenging” route that “should only be attempted by experienced adventurers.” In contrast, the Teewinot trail reviews posted by members revealed a different reality. A few are listed below:

  • Alissa Cooke wrote on September 23, 2022:
    **THIS IS NOT A REAL TRAIL AND REQUIRES CLASS FIVE MOUNTAINEERING*** 
    I did not hike this trail, but friends of mine attempted it two days ago and required search and rescue to come get them. They spent 24 hours on the mountain and at least 12 of which were in severe storms. As per the ranger who coordinated the search and rescue, there are no real “trails” to go up this peak (or the Grand Teton) even though it’s listed on AllTrails.

  • Caroline Berlin wrote on September 6, 2022:
    We came across 4 separate parties that were way off trail, one of which created potentially deadly rockfall at the choke point of the mountain. They neglected to yell rock as they sent down 30-pound boulders onto parties coming up below them.

  • Tadami S wrote on February 9, 2022:
    This trail is for experienced climbers. Be sure to bring your own helmet and rope. My friend slipped and fell on this mountain and died in September 2021. 

  • Tim Reddy wrote on August 18, 2023:
    This is not a hike. This is a technical (~5.4) rock climb. Most parties should plan to rope up on the ascent and on the descent. If you do not know how to place protection, set anchors, belay, and rappel, then you should hire a professional guide who does. Many people have died or been seriously injured climbing unroped on this route. 

I went further and downloaded the AllTrails.com iPhone app. It appears that the description on the app has been updated. The webpage description remains the same. On the iPhone app, Teewinot was appropriately described as a route requiring “technical mountaineering skills and equipment…” This was accompanied by a statement that the route is “the most dangerous in the Teton range…” I don’t know when the content update was made, but I infer that it changed after the 2023 accidents and was probably introduced by the same description still seen on the AllTrails.com webpage (Fig 1.).

My email queries to AllTrails.com have remained unanswered. On the app, the updated route description reads like a ChatGPT-derived synthesis of crowd-sourced user comments. What it lacks in human nuance, it compensates with a tinny stridency. Unfortunately for the two parties above, the corrections come a bit too late. The take-away: Use these non-climbing specific apps with discretion and understand the experience level and tools that are required. Seek out route information/conditions from fellow climbers and climbing-specific resources.

An earnest, honest, and accurate comment regarding Teewinot was posted on Mountainproject by Max Morgan:

Fourth class and easy snow, my @$$. Classic old school Teton sandbaggery, resulting in close calls and several deaths. Statistically, this has been the most deadly climb in the Tetons. At least four people have died on it over the course of the last few years. I've climbed it at least a dozen times. When snow free… [it] entails difficult route-finding and several trails that vary widely in difficulty and exposure. The easiest route up I've ever encountered has at least a couple of 5th-class slab moves. I'd call it 5.5. Maybe there's an easier route, but if I haven't found it in12 tries, you probably won't either.

As always, thanks again to all our volunteers, regional correspondents, and editors who make our efforts a reality. In particular I’d like to thank ANAC Senior Editor Dave Weber. Besides reporting from far-flung national parks, Dave is a climbing ranger in the Grand Tetons and flight paramedic/hoist rescuer for Intermountain Life Flight. He provided extensive reporting and images for both this Prescription newsletter and the upcoming 2024 Accidents.

In addition, I give deep thanks to those who take the time to submit accident reports. I can’t say this enough. If you spend enough time climbing, you will experience or witness an accident. While accidents are inevitable, reporting one is your choice.

Finally, if you have an AAC Partner membership or above, you’ll soon receive a copy of Accidents and the 2024 American Alpine Journal. Be safe out there.

—Pete Takeda, Editor

The Climb that Inspired the Novel that Inspired the Climbs: The Many Stories of the Brenva Face of Mont Blanc

From the AAC Library Collection.

By: Katie Ives 

Each book in the American Alpine Club Library is a portal to another world—of golden spires feathered with rime, fluted snow beneath indigo skies, or red-granite aiguilles above a sea of ice. Beyond these worlds, there are countless layers of other worlds encountered by readers inspired to seek their own adventures and return with their own tales. For climbing is an act of storytelling: we trace the arc of a narrative with our bodies and our minds, rising from the base of a mountain toward a climactic point and descending to a resolution. And the history of mountaineering is also the history of reading and imagination, of old dreams endlessly transforming into new ones.   

The Climb 

On July 15, 1865, English alpinist Adolphus Warburton Moore found himself on the edge of a ridge that looked like something from a fantasy novel. The slender crest of blue ice seemed to rise for an eternity. Sheer voids dropped off on either side. Neither the iron tips of their alpenstocks nor the hobnails of their boots stuck to its flawless surface.  

It was inconceivable to climb. No one had yet established a route on this aspect of Mont Blanc, where the Brenva Face rose for 1,400 meters in a chaos of cliffs, towers, and buttresses, fringed by unstable seracs and swept by avalanches and rockfall. 

From the AAC Library collection.

Still, the Swiss guide Jakob Anderegg kept going, and the rest of the team, including Moore, cautiously followed. As the crest narrowed, they shuffled along à cheval, one leg on either side, aware that any fall might be catastrophic [1].

Long after they finished the first ascent of the Brenva Spur and descended by a safer route, the ice crest lingered in the imaginations of those who read Moore’s memoir, The Alps in 1864. In 1906, British author A.E.W. Mason located the climactic scene of his crime novel Running Water on the Brenva Spur—a point of no return that appeared perfect for an attempted murder of one climber by another, “a line without breadth of cold blue ice” [2].

The Novel

Mason’s Running Water, like its author’s inspiration, begins with reading. Riding the train to Chamonix, his young protagonist Sylvia Thesiger becomes immersed in an old copy of the British Alpine Journal, published more than two decades prior to the novel. All night, she couldn’t sleep, remembering her first glimpse of the Mont Blanc massif beyond the curtain of a train window, recalling her sense of inchoate longing for its moonlit towers of ice and snow. 

Although women climbers had taken part in numerous firsts by the time of the novel’s plot, they weren’t permitted to publish in the Alpine Journal under their own bylines until 1889, when Margaret Jackson recounted her epic first winter traverse of the Jungfrau. And there’s no female author or character in the story Thesiger reads about the first ascent of an aiguille near Mont Blanc. Yet she longs to enter its world, and when she arrives in Chamonix, she hires guides to take her on her own first climb, up the Aiguille d’Argentière. As an ice slope tilts upward, sheer and smooth as a pane of glass, she rejoices, feeling as if she’s finally dreamed her way into a scene from mountain literature, “the place where no slip must be made.” Astounded at her fearlessness and intuitive skill, a guide tells her she bears an uncanny resemblance to a famous climber from the Alpine Journal story she’d just admired. 

“I felt something had happened to me which I had to recognize—a new thing,” she recalls. “Climbing that mountain...was just like hearing very beautiful music. All the vague longings which had ever stirred within me, longings for something beyond, and beyond.” Later, after she falls in love with a climber, the memory of that day suffuses their bond with a steadfast alpine glow—“ice-slope and rock-spire and the bright sun over all.”   

By the end, however, the novel shifts from her journey of self-discovery toward an outcome more conventional for its era. Newly wed, Thesiger is relegated to waiting below the Brenva Spur while the male hero and villain confront each other above that narrow blue crest. Readers don’t find out, for certain, whether she’ll climb any mountains again. A sense of incompleteness remains: the mysterious promise of her alpine epiphanies and of her suppressed and inmost self seem to flow beyond the narrative’s abrupt conclusion, like the recurring dreams she has of running water. 

The Next Climbs

After the publication of Running Water, the ice crest reemerged in a real climber’s recurring dreams. During World War I, Scottish physiologist Thomas Graham Brown took refuge in fantasies inspired by the novel. Night after night, in his sleep, he left behind the horrors of grim battles and shell-shocked men [3] for his own imagined version of the Brenva Face amid a wonderland of shining mountains. The geography seemed so “vivid,” he wrote in his memoir, Brenva, “that a map might be made of the country” [4].

After he recovered from the war, Brown sought the Brenva Face again and again, though its actual topography proved different from what he’d seen in his dreams. Between 1927 and 1933, he established three new routes there, some of the hardest of his day: the Sentinelle and the Major with fellow British climber Frank Smythe; and the Pear with Swiss guides Alexander Graven and Alfred Aufdenblatten. During the last climb, under the shadow of the full moon, Brown felt as if the Brenva had become, once more, “an unknown land,” a flood of dreams subsuming all the real lines he’d climbed. 

As they descended from the summit, light flashed along the running water of a stream, and like Thesiger, he heard an unearthly music cascade through his mind. In his sleep, long afterward, Brown continued to explore the dream version of the Brenva Face, its enigmas unresolved. And for the rest of his life, he kept Mason’s Running Water close by [5].

A Real-Life Sequel to the Novel

Meanwhile, currents of Sylvia Thesiger’s story flowed on through another real alpinist’s life. In 1920 a budding English climbing writer, Dorothey Pilley, strained to see the Alps through the window of a crowded train. She was so overwhelmed with long-held imaginings that her own first glimpse of the range seemed like a chaos of snow-reflected light. 

Since reading Running Water, Pilley had felt spellbound by the unearthly ice arête of the Brenva Spur, but also by the ice slope of the Aiguille d’Argentière, where Thesiger steps into the world of her dreams. The scenes blended in Pilley’s mind with those of other, mythic peaks into “a strange, now unrecapturable farrago of fantasies…perhaps a vague haunting background to all my mountain experiences” [6].        

Like Thesiger, Pilley felt a new self emerge when she climbed, free of the constraints of her society. As if echoing the novel, when she attempted her own early mountain writing, she found herself trying to capture images of running water over stone. Pilley, too, fell in love in the hills, and the awe and light of the mountains remained at the heart of her subsequent marriage [7].

From the AAC Library Collection.

Beyond that point, Pilley’s life story continued along one of many paths that Thesiger might have taken after the novel’s ending—if Thesiger’s author proved bold enough and feminist enough to compose such a sequel. Following a similar yearning for the mysterious, Pilley completed first ascents around the world, often with her husband, Ivor (I.A) Richards. On their most famous new route, the North Ridge of the Dent Blanche, with French guide Joseph Georges, the couple encountered a surreal crest of their own, “as though a dream had got out of place.” Its smooth and at times overhanging rock required “a leap into the void,” they recalled in the Alpine Journal [8].

Pilley also joined the early movement of women taking part in manless, guideless ascents, demonstrating they could be fully independent leaders. And she wrote down her adventures in a book of her own, Climbing Days, which became one of the great classics of literary alpine memoirs. In one of his poems, her husband I.A. Richards quoted her words, “Leaping crevasses in the dark, / That’s how to live!” [9].

The Next Novel?

Mason’s novel haunts me, too. I also fantasize of the imaginary and the real, at times obscuring each other like shadows and moonlight, cascading in unending, luminous streams from ascent to tale to ascent and tale again. Thesiger’s longings appear so vivid they seem to transcend fiction or illusion like the topography of Brown’s recurring dreams. And I wonder what she might accomplish if she were released from the pages of Running Water: Could she return to climb the Brenva Spur herself? Could her life unfold with the same wild audacity that Pilley’s had, taking leap after leap over the voids? Given the intensity of Thesiger’s love of the Alps and her inherent talent, could she, too, write down her own adventures instead of merely reading stories by men? Most of all, could she venture even deeper into the ecstatic communion with the mountains that she’d encountered on her first climb, amid the light, the stillness, and the ice? 

We live in a new era now, when alpine literature is expanding and diversifying, with the influence of new voices and new ideas. It seems past time for someone to write a new novel that could be a sequel to Running Water or else a complete reenvisioning—to find new possibilities within that “line without breadth of cold blue ice.” 

Perhaps one of the readers of my story, now, will write the next book, one that might inspire as yet unimaginable climbs and dreams. 

[I have also explored the story of the Brenva Face in a Sharp End column for Alpinist 75.—Author.] 

More From Katie Ives

Imaginary Peaks: The Riesenstein Hoax and Other Mountain Dreams

This article was made possible with research assistance from AAC Library Director Katie Sauter.

Endnotes

[1] Adolphus Warburton Moore, The Alps in 1864: A Private Journal (Edinburgh: David Douglas, 1902). Although the book states “1864” in its title, the 1865 climb is included. 

[2]  A.E.W. Mason, Running Water and The Guide, with introduction and notes by Roberta Grandi (London Academic Publishing, 2021). 

[3] For a biography of Thomas Graham Brown, short-listed for the Boardman-Tasker Award, see Peter Foster’s The Uncrowned King of Mont Blanc (Langley, UK: Baton Wicks Publications, 2019). 

[4] Thomas Graham Brown, Brenva (London: J.M. Dent & Sons Ltd., 1944).

[5]  See Robin N. Campbell’s “Graham Brown’s Eulogy,” in the Edinburgh University Mountaineering Club Online Archives, eumarchives.files.wordpress.com, 1965. 

[6]  Climbing Days, Dorothy Pilley (London: Secker & Warburg, 1935). 

[7] As Pilley’s nephew, Dan Richards, wrote in his biography of her, also called Climbing Days (London: Faber & Faber Ltd., 2016), “Ivor and Dorothea were both, first and foremost, mountaineers. They met in the mountains on an equal footing and returned there whenever they could for the rest of their lives…. United climbing companions on a rope, their apparently eccentric union founded in the wild landscape of the mountains.”

[8] Dorothy Pilley and I.A. Richards, “The North Ridge of the Dent Blanche,” Alpine Journal 35 (1923). 

[9] As cited in Dan Richard’s biography of Pilley.

EDUCATE: The Climbing World's Best Books about Accidents and the Cutting Edge

This year’s editions of Accidents in North American Climbing and the American Alpine Journal are off to the printer! We had the editors of these world-renowned books, Dougald MacDonald and Pete Takeda, on the podcast to discuss all the details of what goes into making these books: including how stories get selected, the challenges of investigating how accidents happen, how these books fit into the larger climbing media landscape, and the long history of these books. Our editors also chat about what it’s like to edit over 100 stories about climbers hurting themselves and then still go climbing. We cover how these books have been translated and utilized across the globe, as well as trends in accidents this year. If you’re looking for more details about how the AAC produces such robust reporting on cutting edge climbing and accident analysis each year, you’ll have to hear from the editors themselves!

United We Climb? Or United We VIBE?—The June T-Shirt Is Here

Pack your boombox and rigid-stem cams, it's time to vibe out. This June, we're offering this bodacious limited edition t-shirt when you join the Club, renew your membership, donate $30 or more. If you’re obsessed with the climbing vibe, this 80’s inspired t-shirt is for you!

Use promo code VIBE24 during the month of June only.

The Prescription—June

It’s June and we’ve been busy wrapping up edits on the 2024 Accidents in North American Climbing. If you have an AAC Partner membership or above, you’ll receive the best kind of mail soon–a copy of Accidents, the 2024 American Alpine Journal, and other neat things in a few months. I give thanks to all our volunteers, regional correspondents, and editors, who made this year’s book a reality. I also give deep thanks to those who took the time to submit accident reports. Whether one has personally experienced an accident or is reporting an incident, it is never an easy thing to do.

In closing out the year’s edits I’m reminded of a few things. As with any elective passion, climbing gives us what prudence itself can’t provide—our humanness. While climbing promises a glimpse of the unimaginable and the ineffable, it can also visit us with mishap or tragedy. Gravity constantly teaches us that no matter what gear we use, how much we practice, and how many precautions we take, climbing is dangerous. Stay safe out there.  

This month we feature an accident that will appear in the 2024 ANAC. It took place last September and reminds us that not all climbing misadventures occur while actually climbing.

—Pete Takeda, Editor

(L to R) Mt. Darwin and Mt. Mendel seen from the north near Lamarck Col. These are two of nine 13,000+ foot high peaks that comprise the massive Evolution Traverse (VI, 5.9). The col was the scene of an unusual accident in which a climber was pinned by a large boulder while descending. Photo: Will Keightley | Wikimedia

Pinned Under Boulder

Inyo National Forest, Lamarck Col

Around 12:40 p.m. on September 28, Larsen Tormey (28) was pinned under a large boulder while hiking out after an attempt on the Evolution Traverse (VI, 5.9). His climbing partner, Jacob Ireland (35), was able to free him after several hours, prior to the arrival of SAR.

Ireland wrote to ANAC:

The accident took place five miles from the trailhead. Lars was hiking ahead of me. I was at the top of Lamarck Col when I heard someone yelling. I figured this was Lars, but I couldn’t spot him. As I headed toward the sound the cries grew louder, and I knew that an accident had occurred. When I was directly above his voice, I could hear clearly, “I’m stuck! There’s a rock on me! Please help!”

Larsen Tormey, three hours after being pinned by a large boulder near Lamarck Col. This photo was taken shortly before his partner, in a display of tenacity and prolonged heroics, managed to pull the boulder off. Photo by Jacob Ireland.

I hit the SOS button on my Garmin inReach and started down the broken 4th-class terrain. When I made it to Lars, he explained that, because he carried no traction devices nor ice axe, he had been downclimbing through a small tunnel or cave in the rock to avoid a steep section of hard-packed snow. A boulder the size of a city trash can he had been using as a hold came free. The rock was angled and sharp and plugged the slot so his leg was pinned just below his groin.

The boulder was in the way, so I couldn’t see his injuries and had to rely on what he told me. From what I could tell, one leg was pinned near his groin. It’s hard to recall, but the rock was maybe three feet by three feet and one foot wide.

There was no blood, but Lars believed he was bleeding internally and could not feel his leg. He was lying partly on the ice and was cold and shaking. I did my best to drape a puffy over him. I tried to move the boulder, but this only made him scream. The back of the rock was the obvious place to try moving it, but I quickly realized it wasn’t going to move by hand. I told Lars I was going to try the climbing rope and gear we had brought.

He pleaded with me to just try by hand again, and I did my best to assure him that the rope would be better. I frantically unpacked my gear. I jammed a cam into a crack above us, wrapped the rope around the front of the boulder, and set up a hauling system with my harness and two Micro Traxions.

The next hour was a blur. We tried multiple configurations of the rope and hauling methods. Nothing worked beyond a small amount of movement. One method from the side caused Lars to cry out, “Stop! You’re making it worse!” Between all my attempts, poor Lars begged me to keep trying. Every now and then we made eye contact, and I could see his horror and pain. I’d exhausted myself and started needing longer breaks between tries. My hand was bleeding, so I wrapped it with climbing tape. I had to cut the rope multiple times to quickly fix jams when I’d reset a system. Everything was failing.

I realized my phone had been getting messages. I had cell service and called 911 and relayed information. Lars was screaming at me to keep trying. He didn’t believe help was going to come fast enough. Part of me believed him, so I did my best to talk on the phone and work on the boulder at the same time. Someone from the Inyo SAR team called back and I sent them photos and exact coordinates. They assured me they were on the way.

It had been almost three hours since the boulder fell on Lars, and I was beginning to lose hope. Every failed attempt was devastating. I felt weak and my hips were raw and bruised from the harness. Then, in one adrenaline-fueled attempt, I clipped my harness directly to the rope around the boulder via a sling and pulled to the side. The boulder started to move. My foot gained a bit of new leverage and the boulder moved more. Lars began yelling that he was able to move. “Keep going!” I found a hold in the back of the wall and pulled as hard as I could, screaming from the adrenaline and pain in my waist.

Lars slipped down and behind the boulder to a larger ledge below. He was free and I was ecstatic. I used the rope to swing down to him. He was shaking, cold, and couldn’t feel his leg. I got him flat and bundled up with both sleeping bags and an air mattress under his body. He was in and out of consciousness, but his breathing remained stable. I checked his wound, and to my astonishment it didn’t look worse than a large bruise. Of course, I had no idea what was happening internally.

An hour and a half later, a helicopter appeared and I felt massive relief. The U.S. Army had been flying training missions in the area, and the SAR team was able to use their Chinook helicopter to reach us. They landed at the bottom of the snowfield. An hour later Lars was in the chopper heading for Fresno. He suffered abrasions, major impact trauma, nerve damage, and internal bleeding. He still has trouble making large upward steps, but he is out hiking, biking, and getting back to normal.

Members of the Inyo County Search and Rescue Team package Lars Tormey for helicopter extraction. Photo: Jacob Ireland

ANALYSIS 

I think the main factors in this accident were:

  1. Lack of gear for snow travel: We should have had Microspikes or crampons and an ice axe. With those items, we would have directly descended the snow in Lamarck Col and avoided the loose rock.

  2. Getting separated: With our technical objective behind us, we became complacent. Had we stuck together, we might have chosen a different way or at least been able to help each other sooner. Lars spent almost an hour under the boulder before I found him. Had he been unconscious, I might have passed by and not realized he was missing until hours later.

  3. More knowledge of hauling systems and pulleys: I tried a number of techniques with the climbing gear on hand. A few of these systems moved the boulder, but not enough to free Lars. If I had more knowledge, I could have rigged something to free him faster.

(Source: Jacob Ireland.)

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EDUCATE: The Untold Stories of Sherpas, Baltis, and other Local Climbers in the Greater Ranges

In this episode, we cover the untold and complex experience of local climbers in the Greater Ranges—how Sherpas, Baltis, and other local climbers have navigated the complex landscape of living near and working on Everest and in the Karakoram. We sat down with three incredible writers—Nandini Purandare and Deepa Balsavar, who are the authors of the newly released book Headstrap–Legends and Lore from the Climbing Sherpas of Darjeeling; and also the well-known mountain writer Bernadette McDonald, who has recently released Alpine Rising: Sherpas, Baltis, and the Triumph of Local Climbers in the Greater Ranges.


Though it's easy to lump these mountains together from a foreign climber’s perspective, these books cover distinct geographical locations that are deeply impacted by the politics of this region of the world. In conversation, these writers illuminated the unique challenges for Nepali, Tibetan, Pakistani, and Sherpa climbers from Darjeeling, as well as the shared challenges that all of these climbers have faced in making a name for themselves, fighting for safe working conditions, navigating the way colonization has impacted the boundaries of mountaineering, and more. We discuss topics like how Tenzing Norgay’s identifying as Sherpa when he first climbed Everest catapulted the idea of “Sherpa” into the limelight, how the Partitioning of India and Pakistan affects the work prospects of Darjeeling Sherpa, navigating relationships with foreign climbers vs climbing for themselves, and much more. Whether you’re a mountaineer yourself, or just have a passing respect for Everest, join us in this episode to hear about the deeply human stories of individual Sherpas (from various regions) and Pakistani climbers, and how they navigate death, risk, financial independence, and glory in the big mountains of our world.

The Prescription—April

Denali (20,310 feet) is the highest peak in North America. The name is derived from Koyukon, a traditional Native Alaskan language, and means “the tall one.” Photo: NPS/ Tim Rains

The Denali climbing season is imminent. The peak’s high latitude, extreme altitude, and arctic climate present hazards that challenge even the most experienced climbers.

Our April “Prescription” is a Denali National Park accident summary, accompanied by an altitude illness report from the peak’s most popular route. While mishaps involving crevasses, avalanches, and falls plague climbers every year, altitude illness is the most preventable cause of incidents on Denali.

This following summary and report will be published in the upcoming 2024 Accidents in North American Climbing. The book will also include a special feature titled Acclimatization and High Altitude Illness, written by Dr. Peter Hackett and ANAC Senior Editor, Dave Weber.

Denali National Park Accident Summary

Denali mountaineering rangers treated a total of 33 patients during the 2023 climbing season in the Alaska Range. The following list provides a breakdown of the diagnoses* from this past rescue season:

  • Traumatic Injury – 11 cases (includes one facial laceration, three shoulder injuries, one traumatic brain injury, one case of fractured ribs, one neck injury, and four patients with various musculoskeletal injuries)

  • Frostbite - 11 cases

  • Medical - Six cases (includes two hypothermia, one diverticulitis, one spontaneous pneumothorax, one possible case of anxiety, and one case of anaphylaxis)

  • High Altitude Cerebral Edema – Three cases

  • High Altitude Pulmonary Edema – Three cases

*Some patients had multiple diagnoses resulting in a higher number of diagnoses than the total number of patients.

Twenty-one patients required helicopter evacuation from Denali National Park. Three patients were evacuated by NPS Rangers on the ground and nine patients self-evacuated after receiving treatment.

There were three mountaineering-related deaths in the Alaska Range during the 2023 climbing season, with an additional post-evacuation fatality. One occurred when a solo skier was caught in an avalanche. Two fatalities occurred due to a fall from the Moose’s Tooth in the Ruth Gorge. On Denali’s West Buttress, one climber suffering from severe altitude illness was treated and evacuated, but subsequently died in hospital (see below).

While some accidents are difficult to predict and prevent, many of these medical illnesses and traumatic injuries are preventable with prudent decision-making and a reasonable ascent profile during climbing expeditions. Additional information regarding the prevention, recognition, and treatment of common mountain medicine maladies can be found online in the Denali mountaineering handbook: https://www.nps.gov/dena/planyourvisit/part2medicalissues.htm

(Source: Denali Mountaineering Rangers.)

The highest peak in North America is a perennial favorite among domestic and international climbers. Photo: NPS/Kent Miller

Alaska | High Altitude Cerebral Edema

Denali, West Buttress

On May 31, an independent expedition camped at 14,200-foot camp notified rangers via radio that one team member, a twenty-four-year-old Coloradan, had an altered mental status. The team stated that they had been dropped off by fixed wing aircraft at Base Camp (7,200 feet) on May 27. Immediately upon landing, they embarked on the West Buttress route, reaching 14,200-foot camp a day and a half later on the evening of May 28. The team stated that upon reaching camp, all members were feeling “ok.” On the afternoon of May 30, teammates alerted NPS rangers that the Coloradan—after reportedly feeling “groggy” with a slight headache—began exhibiting severe symptoms of high-altitude cerebral edema (HACE) and pulmonary edema (HAPE). A second team member was experiencing moderate symptoms of HAPE.

Weather conditions were not flyable on the night of May 30. A team of NPS rangers and volunteer patrol members performed 18 hours of advanced life support on the unresponsive HACE/HAPE patient throughout the night. Treatment included a hyperbaric chamber, medications, supplemental oxygen, and mechanical breathing assistance.

On the morning of May 31, the patient was evacuated by helicopter. An Air National Guard Pararescue Specialist from the 212th Rescue Unit served as the medical attendant. The patient was flown to Talkeetna and was then transferred to a LifeMed air ambulance for advanced care. Unfortunately, the patient succumbed to the effects of HACE/HAPE in the hospital.

ANALYSIS

As many do, this team made the assumption that living at a relatively high altitude (5,000 feet) and maintaining a high level of fitness would prepare them adequately for rapid elevation gain. This incident is an extreme example of the inaccuracy of this assumption. Even those who live at elevations far higher than 5000 feet may not be adequately acclimatized for a climb up Denali. The human body begins losing its altitude adaptions in a matter of days, an interval that many climbers spend while traveling to Alaska and Base Camp.

The Wilderness Medicine Society recommends that while ascending above an altitude of 9,000 feet, climbers should limit their daily elevation gain to no more than 500 meters (~1,650 feet) between sleeping locations. They also recommend spending an extra night at the same elevation for every 3,300 feet of elevation gained.

Every season, many extremely fit climbers attempt Denali. While physical conditioning is an important factor in risk management and success, the overestimation of fitness as a determinant factor gets many of these same climbers into trouble.

Unfortunately, an individual’s degree of fitness does not determine whether or not they will suffer altitude illness. Only a conservative ascent profile and proper acclimatization will prevent this.

(Source: Denali Mountaineering Rangers.)

Though Denali’s West Buttress is considered a “walk-up” in technical terms, the route still offers plenty of steep climbing. Photo: Dave Weber

THIN AIR ON DENALI: THE EDITOR’S STORY

I climbed the West Buttress in 2003 as an intended acclimatization for another route. Looking back, I fit the profile of the individual involved in the above accident—I lived in Colorado at above 5,000 feet, I was fit, and I trained consistently prior to the trip. While I knew that the West Buttress was technically moderate, I also knew that the relative atmospheric pressure of the 6,190 meter (20,310 feet) summit was the equivalent of over 7,000 meters in the Himalayas.

We made fairly rapid progress and my fitness served me well on the way up to14,200-foot camp. When we arrived, I felt “off.” Having spent considerable time in the Himalayas climbing above 6,000 meters, experience told me that I could use a few restful days and nights to acclimatize. My partner however, was feeling spry and was eager to carry on to the next higher camp at 17,200 feet. He wanted an advantageous position for a summit bid.

Sometimes you get lucky—the ongoing debate on whether to immediately go higher or stay put, ended when a storm rolled in. By the time the weather cleared, we were rested and acclimatized enough to skip 17,200-foot camp and successfully dash to the summit and back. The forced delay had paid off, as did the solid path beaten into the fresh snow by the dozens of summiteers, whose ranks had swollen during the days of bad weather. Had we pushed higher sooner, I may have gotten altitude illness. This would have negated a summit attempt and/or endangered myself and my partner. This episode was a reminder that mountains do not care how hard you trained, nor how tight your schedule is.

—Pete Takeda

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The Prescription—March 2024

This month we have an unreported accident from a few years ago. This incident occurred at Mt. Woodson near San Diego. A climber atop one of beautiful granite boulders that sprinkle the area was lowering his partner when the unthinkable occurred.

Thibault Philippine leads the mega classic Robbins Crack (5.10a) at Mt. Woodson. This boulder was the scene of a serious lowering accident in 2021. Visible in this image is the sloping summit and the barely discernible anchor bolts, six feet below and to the right of the top. Note: Philippine was not in any way involved in this accident. Photo: Philipp Arndt

Ground Fall | No Belay Anchor

San Diego County, Mt. Woodson

On February 24, 2021, Dawson Riley (21) and his friend (19) were enjoying a day out at Mt. Woodson. Riley, an experienced climber, had taken this friend climbing a few times before. Riley first led the 35-foot route Robbins Crack (5.10a) and attached a quad anchor sling to the bolts atop the large boulder. His friend then followed, with Riley belaying from above on a Grigri. Riley then adjusted the position of the anchor so that they could lower each other and climb Lie Detector (5.12a/b), another crack route (the analog to Robbins Crack) that shares the same bolt anchor. After each climber took a turn on Lie Detector, they sat together on top of the boulder.

Shortly after, Riley removed his quad anchor from the bolts. Unanchored and with the Grigri clipped directly to his harness, Riley began lowering his friend down the Robbins Crack side of the boulder. The rope began feeding rapidly through the Grigri. Riley released the brake handle to block the rope and started to slide off the boulder. Riley fanned out his body in an attempt to increase friction but was quickly launched off the boulder. He fell approximately 25 feet and landed on his right side. His partner, still tied to the end of the rope, had fallen approximately ten feet and was uninjured.

On impact, Riley suffered a seizure and remained unconscious. Others nearby heard his partner yelling for help. They called 911, and nearby CAL FIRE first responders arrived. They placed Riley on a stretcher and onto the flat bed of their truck, then transported him to a nearby airport. There, they met a Mercy Air medical helicopter, who flew him to the Palomar Health trauma center.

Riley sustained multiple injuries including a concussion, an open fracture of both bones in the right forearm, a lung contusion, and three pelvic fractures. He was not wearing a helmet. He required multiple surgeries but has fully recovered and continues to climb.

Dawson Riley sitting atop the Robbins Boulder last week. He has fully recovered from the 2021 accident. As you can see, this time Riley is safely attached to the anchor bolts. Photo: Alex Sanson

Analysis

The Robbins Boulder requires lowering or rappelling to descend. The large and deceptively angled summit can give climbers a false sense of security. Dawson recalled having removed his quad anchor from the bolts while he and his friend sat and relaxed after climbing Lie Detector. The quad anchor gear remained attached to his harness, while his friend remained tied into the rope.

Complacency plays a role in many accidents, and this incident might be no exception. In this case, Riley’s familiarity with the climb (he’d been on top of the Robbins Boulder many times) and the large, comfortable summit belied the hazard. In any perilous position, it is critical to establish and maintain a safe anchor, perform safety checks with your partner, and assess/test the system before detaching from the anchor. It is also wise to redirect the rope through the anchor while lowering another climber from a braking device that is directly attached to the harness. This technique creates extra friction and allows more control of the lowering speed and the force on the belayer.

A safer alternative might have been a rappel from the bolts. As Riley recalls, “Looking back, the only way I had descended the route [previously] was by rappelling. On that day, my brain wanted to lower my partner because I noticed he was still tied in and the rope was running through my Grigri. But muscle memory was getting me ready to rappel, so I removed the quad then began lowering without registering that I was unanchored.” 

(Source: Dawson Riley.)

Learn More About Safe Lowering Techniques

John Godino at Alpine Savvy has created climbing and navigation content for years. Below are some good tips on lowering at alpinesavvy.com.

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EDUCATE: Hazel Findlay on Yosemite, Magic Line, and the Theory of Flow

We sat down with the master of climbing mindset, Hazel Findlay. Hazel has made many significant free ascents of El Cap, and is one of the very few to climb the storied single pitch trad test piece, Magic Line. In this episode of the podcast, we talk with Hazel about her history with Yosemite, the projecting process for Magic Line, and of course, tips and tricks for building a strong mind. She shares some of her best insights about finding flow; a new concept that compliments flow, called clutch; first steps towards building a personal sending philosophy; and even a few practical exercises you can put into practice right now to start working on your headgame. And of course, how this all got applied during her own projecting process for Magic Line, because Pro’s struggle with headgame too!

The Prescription—February

The ice and mixed season is in full swing. While offering a dazzling range of sights, sounds, and textures, winter climbing arguably presents the highest risk to life and limb of any crag-oriented climbing genre. Ice is an ever-changing medium. The clothing and tools required deprive climbers of the accustomed “feel” for the climbing medium—so critical to fair-weather rock climbing.

This month we have two accidents from 2023. Both involved collapsing ice formations. One had an injury-free ending. The other ended in tragedy.

Code Red (WI 5) in Hyalite Canyon, before and after a dramatic collapse in January 2023. The two climbers involved in this accident fortunately emerged unharmed. Caption:  Photo: Lauren Olivia Smith/Climbing magazine

Fall on Ice | Collapsed Pillar

Hyalite Canyon, Montana

On January 27, 2023, Lauren Olivia Smith and Bailey Lasko, both of Bozeman, Montana, were climbing Code Red (WI 5) in nearby Hyalite Canyon. This single-pitch ice pillar has a longer approach than other popular venues in the canyon. The approach, combined with the avalanche hazard, made for a more serious outing. 

Smith was leading. As she reported to Climbing magazine, “(From the approach gully)…the pillar looked funky and off-kilter, in a shape I’d never seen before…. I remember thinking it doesn’t look quite right, but the part that was leaning seemed quite big, and we had a big freeze-thaw [cycle], so I figured it was well-attached.”

From a closer vantage, Smith confirmed that Code Red appeared well-attached to the rock and “gave its stability no further thought.” At 15 feet up, Smith heard a cracking noise from above. The bottom half of the pillar then collapsed, toppling “like a falling tree.” Smith said, “I remember seeing a chunk of ice fall past me with my tool still in it.” 

The point of detachment was 35 feet above Smith. With no intermediate protection, she—and the unanchored Lasko—"rocketed down the 30-degree approach slope.” Smith had been climbing on the lower-angled (left) side of the formation, and the inclined column fell away from her, so she avoided being crushed. The pair slid alongside the pillar before self-arresting after 100 feet, and they emerged unharmed.

ANALYSIS

Smith did well to assess temperature patterns in the days prior to the outing. She also chose a line that was well-bonded to the top of the cliff. While Smith was surprised at the collapse, it’s worth noting that the unusual crooked profile indicated the pillar had previously cracked and toppled partway before refreezing at a Pisa-like tilt. Inclined columns are subject to axial compression, shear forces, and in this case, buckling. Smith says she now completes a full 360-degree inspection of any free-standing ice pillar before climbing.

(Sources: Climbing magazine, The Editors.)

Fall on Ice | Collapsed Pillar

Right Fork of Indian Canyon, Duchesne, Utah

On April 2, 2023, Meg O’Neill (40), a member of a party of three climbers, was killed when struck by a collapsing ice column on Raven Falls (WI4), near Duchesne in northeast Utah. According to the Duchesne County Sheriff’s Office, O’Neill, who was standing nearby, saved the belayer’s life by pushing her out of the fall zone. The leader was seriously injured.


Sean McLane (34) was on lead near the top of the second pitch when the accident occurred. He was belayed by Anne Nikolov (21), while O’Neill was spectating.

Sean McLane climbing Raven Falls (WI 4) on an earlier ascent. This two-pitch climb near Duchesne, Utah was the scene of a fatal accident in April 2023. McLane wrote, “On the day of the accident, it looked about the same (as in this photo). Photo: Sean McLane

McLane wrote to ANAC, “It had been warm for a couple days, and this was to be my last climb of the season. We were a group of three. Meg was experienced and a regular climbing partner of mine. Anne was new and had climbed a couple times with Meg.”

McLane led the first pitch and brought the other two up. The base of pitch 2 was a broad snow ledge about 100 feet above the top of the first pitch.

“The second pitch was an ice column that formed at the lip of a cave. The column was 40 feet high and 15 feet in diameter. I saw no signs of instability. I didn’t see or hear any significant running water. There was little to no cone at the bottom, although a 15-foot radius of ice was present at the base. I stomped on it to test for anything being undercut, but it felt solid, likely because it was a couple feet thick and my weight wasn't enough to stress it.”

“I led out the back of the ice and corkscrewed around to the side. Anne (Nikolov) was belaying and Meg (O’Neill) was walking around, taking pictures. As I [was nearly] top[ping] out, there was a significant density change in the ice. It went from wet, one-swing sticks, to dense… dinner-plating [hits]."

McLane climbed above the point where the ice was attached to the rock. As he swung an ice tool into an already dinner-plated placement, the pillar fractured, breaking two or three feet below the point of the pick’s impact.

According to McLane, the collapse took “my other tool and both my feet with it. Meg was in the cave behind the pillar, and Anne was to the side. Most of the column went downhill, but falling ice buried Meg.”

Climbing magazine wrote that O’Neill “noticed the ice fracture, and… may have heard it cracking just before the formation broke.” She then pushed Nikolov aside, and as also reported in Climbing magazine, “Her quick thinking undoubtedly saved Anne’s life.” 

McLane recalls, “I had placed screws in the pillar and was pulled off by the rope. The main column fell down the slope away from me, and I came straight down. "I hit the ground... land[ing] on my back [atop] a large chunk of ice. [This] broke my spine at L2... That was my only injury besides scrapes and bruises. I put myself in recovery position as Anne tried to get to Meg.”

The closest cell signal was driving distance away. McLane showed Nikolov how to fix a rappel line and then gave her his phone along with directions to access the car keys. Nikolov safely descended, drove to town and contacted SAR and local climbers. About six hours after the accident, some Salt Lake climbing friends arrived. McLane was long-lined by helicopter to the road. He was then loaded into another helicopter and flown to a hospital in Salt Lake City.

*Editor’s Note: This is an example of a hidden ice climbing hazard called a False Pillar. To learn more, click the link below.

 ANALYSIS

Alpinism and ice climbing are perhaps the most dangerous of climbing games. As mentioned above, frozen water is a fickle, ever-changing medium. And, as demonstrated in these two accidents, the hazards are often invisible. In no small way, luck was a determinant factor in the different outcome of these two accidents.

On Raven Falls, McLane—a very experienced climber who had safely climbed the route twice previously—visually assessed the ice and stomp-tested the base to ensure the column was attached. He wrote to ANAC that, “In retrospect, to fail as it did, the pillar must have been melted out from underneath.” The solid-looking column was basically a free-hanging, bus-sized chunk of ice.

McLane has physically recovered; it took about six months to get back to normal climbing.

McLane notes:

  • Running water underneath an ice formation can render a solid and fully attached flow free-hanging and unstable. Figuring out if ice is undercut can be hard to impossible to do, without seeing the running water or the gap between the bottom of the pillar and the base. Several days of warmer temperatures can create this dangerous situation. 

  • Large variations in ice quality and density (on the route) may signal stability issues. 

  • (When belaying or spectating) Position yourself farther away than you might think in order to stay out of the way of falling ice. A cave is not necessarily protected if the ice collapses.

  • Carry an extra layer (pack it with you on your harness or in your pack). Since it was a warm day, I left my puffy at the base, a pitch below. I got very cold lying on ice and not moving for many hours.

  • If you might need something on a multi-pitch route, don’t leave it at the base. A satellite communicator and warm layers with me on pitch two would have made a bad situation more manageable.

(Source: Sean McLane, Climbing magazine, and The Editors.)

To Climb or Not to Climb?

More people than ever are ice climbing. At the same time, climate change is dramatically affecting geologic stability in the mountains. Changes include rock fall, glacial recession, and waterfall ice collapse. The intersection of ice climbing popularity and effects of climate change can cause accidents.

This flowchart was developed by Derek DeBruin. It was first published in the 2023 ANAC. This tool can assist in managing hazards by helping determine the stability of the ice, the effectiveness of ice screw protection, and the quality of ice tool placement. Downloadable PDF and image are available through the link below.

The Prescription is the monthly newsletter of Accidents in North American Climbing. The Prescription brings you monthly unpublished accident reports, tech tips, links to new online educational resources, and much more—all aimed at helping you become a safer climber.

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The Prescription—January 2024

A note from the editor of Accidents in North American Climbing: I’m writing this from the AAC Hueco Rock Ranch in Texas. Here, the season is in full swing for what some say is the best bouldering on the planet. While often regarded as relatively risk-free, bouldering can be plenty dangerous. This month we feature a reminder from Joshua Tree National Park.

The Hidden Valley Area of Joshua Tree National Park. This popular expanse holds a vast number of classic boulder problems, including White Rastafarian (V2-3,PG-13). Photo: Wikimedia Commons NPS/Hannah Schwalbe.

Bouldering Fall | Insufficient Pads

California, Joshua Tree National Park, Hidden Valley Area

On November 9, 2023, Gibson McGee (19) was bouldering on White Rastafarian, a V2 (often graded V3) highball that has been the scene of many accidents. He fell from near the top and struck the ground, shattering his L1 vertebra, the highest bone in the lower back.

Though Mountain Project describes White Rastafarian as “one of JTree’s finest (problems),” the climb is 25 feet tall—more a short route instead of a boulder problem. After the midpoint crux, the climber is faced with a tricky mantel topout.

Victor Pinto topping out on the classic White Rastafarian. John Long, who did the first ascent of this iconic highball with John Bachar, wrote of their experience in Climbing magazine, “Once we passed a precise but invisible line, we were soloing, plain and simple.” Photo: Victor Pinto.

McGee wrote to ANAC, “I was heading to Joshua Tree for the weekend, and I was planning on meeting a group who were coming in the following morning. After setting up camp, I went to go climb the nearby White Rastafarian. I had previously attempted it but fell at the crux (15 feet off ground). I was fine with no injuries.” McGee laid out three crash pads, set up a video camera to record himself, and started up the route.

Graphic Video Warning

At Accidents in North American Climbing we refrain from publishing gratuitous depictions of injury. However, to convey the real risks of an activity that many people consider relatively risk-free, we are providing a link to Gibson’s Instagram account:
See his video here.

“I got to the top of the route (about 25 feet off ground) and was too pumped to do the ‘easy’ mantel onto the top of the rock. I looked down and decided I could drop safely. I dropped, but when I hit the ground, I ended up shattering my L1 vertebra. I then army crawled (using arms and upper body to cross the ground) to the nearby Hidden Valley Campground, where I got help and was transported by ambulance to High Desert Medical Center.”

McGee is currently recovering. He wrote, “While I am eager to be able to climb again, healing physically and mentally from this fall will take me quite some time. I was very fortunate looking back on the possible injuries I could’ve sustained.”

Analysis

Bouldering is inherently dangerous, and highball problems particularly so. On Reddit, un poco lobo posted, “Was chatting with a park ranger who said they see more accidents on WR (White Rastafarian) than pretty much all other routes/problems combined.”

A Similar Accident

For another Joshua Tree bouldering accident involving inadequate pad placement, click here.

McGee had been consistently climbing outdoors for one year prior. He recalls, “I saw White Rastafarian the first week I started climbing. It has always been a dream for me to do it.” His pad placements were in the right place and he landed cleanly—no part of his body struck exposed ground. While multiple pads are great idea, an evenly distributed second layer of pads might have saved McGee from a trip to the hospital. Covering gaps between pads with a thin “slider” pad also would have provided additional safety. McGee mentioned, “I should’ve brought a buddy and stacked bouldering pads.”

Keep ‘Em On The Pad!

In bouldering, spotting is the norm. On highballs, though, spotters can be extraneous as the impact forces of a falling climber can be equally harmful to the spotter. See a fall from the same problem that came close to injuring the spotter here.

While spotting highballs is more art than science, the general rule is to ensure the falling climber stays on the pad after impact. Guaranteeing that the climber impacts the pad itself is part of good pad placement. A spotter should also protect the head and neck from impacting bare ground or surrounding obstacles. Another good rule to follow is to never fall above the 20-foot mark. Be open to using a top-rope to practice the problem. John Gill himself was a big exponent of top-roping.

Finally, Joshua Tree has a well-earned reputation for tricky climbing and a long learning curve. As always, different climbing areas have special characteristics that grades do not convey. Be conservative and risk-averse as you learn the peculiarities of any area. Wrote McGee, “I have bouldered in Joshua Tree four or five times. The grading is much, much harder than what you might think. I let the number (V2-3) get in my head rather than trusting the true difficulty of J Tree grades.”

(Sources: Gibson McGee, Mountain Project, and Climbing magazine.)

Clarification and Reflection on Michael Spitz Free Solo Accident

In the 2023 ANAC, we reported on the death of free soloist Michael Spitz. Recently, Brian Gillette, a close friend of Spitz, reached out to correct some inaccuracies in our report. In his letter to ANAC, Gillette filled some gaps in our understanding of the accident, while offering some thoughtful words on risk.

A short excerpt, “In the year before his death, Mike's free soloing had accelerated from an occasional outing to a nearly weekly activity. The more he free soloed, the more I watched his perception of the risks become disconnected from the reality of climbing. Mike had also been surfing a heavy swell in the days leading up to his death. When I spoke with him the night before, I thought he sounded tired and told him to take it easy. He told me he planned to climb for the day and head home. From what I can tell, soloing Illusion Dweller was a last-minute decision. He might have been more tired than he realized. It might explain why a small slip caused him to fall. Mike's last-minute decision also meant that he wasn't prepared in any way for a potential accident, even a minor one.”

Read the original report and Brian Gillette’s full letter here.

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The Prescription—December 2023

This month we have an unfortunate accident that occurred several months ago on a popular one-pitch sport route at Sand Rock, Alabama. This accident underscores the sometimes perilous learning curve faced by those transitioning from indoor to outdoor climbing.

Andrea Bender climbing Misty (5.10b/c), the scene of a fatal fall in October 2023. Mountain Project reports that this climb is “not to be missed.” Photo: Andrea Bender Collection

Fatal Fall From Anchor | Inexperience, Inadequate Supervision

Alabama, Sand Rock, Sun Wall

On October 14, Yutung “Faye” Zhang (18) fell 90 feet from the anchors of Misty (5.10b/c) while cleaning this route at Sand Rock in northeastern Alabama. It was her second time climbing outdoors. At around 12 p.m., Zhang, a new climber and part of a larger group, took a final top-rope lap on the route. She cleaned the quickdraws and reached the two-bolt anchor. The anchor was equipped with two mussy hooks plus a single locking carabiner that had been placed by one of the other climbers to guard against the rope from unclipping from the mussys. 

No one was at the anchors with Zhang to see exactly what happened. Jun C., who was belaying Zhang at the time of the accident, wrote on Mountain Project, “We put the locker in on the incredibly unlikely premise that the mussys could come unclipped. Not that any of us really thought that would happen, but we wanted to keep our party safe. [While Zhang was on the ground], we communicated and demonstrated what she was to do when she got to the top.... She was aware and confident of just needing to remove a locker and leave the mussys clipped.”

The anchor at the top of Misty. Karsten Delap, a guide who visited the area after the accident, said, “When she undid the (locking) carabiner, she was probably a little bit above [the mussys], with a little bit of slack.” Photo by Karsten Delap

It is assumed that after removing the locking carabiner at the belay, Zhang somehow unclipped the rope from the mussy hooks. Jun C., the belayer, wrote, “Suddenly the rope became unweighted and she (Zhang) wasn’t clipped through the mussys anymore. I fell and smacked my back and head against another rock, and she fell right beside me…. A few of us trained in emergency first response came to aid immediately, as well as a physician that just happened to be in the area. EMS response was quite fast as well, but there was really nothing to be done.” 

Jun C. added, “Between all of us we have decades of climbing experience. In our eyes, this [lowering from the mussys] was routine and one of the safest things we could ask of a relatively new climber.” The belayer added, “At the same time, I know all of us are kicking ourselves for asking her to do anything at all.… We’ve all been thinking about what we could or should have done differently or how this could have been a safer experience.” (Sources: mountainproject.com, climbing.com, and the Editors.)

ANALYSIS

A few weeks after the accident, IFMGA guide Karsten Delap climbed this route and provided ANAC with some images and video. He observed that the best handholds at the end of Misty were located above the bolts. (See the video below.) This may have positioned Zhang above the mussys. Then, as Zhang weighted the rope, it might have loaded the mussys incorrectly and become unclipped.

A more in-depth article on best practices for using mussy hooks, written by Delap, will appear in the 2024 ANAC. For now, he writes that, “It is plausible that the rope was threaded from right to left on the mussy hooks, with the locking carabiner positioned between the two hooks. As the climber approached the anchor from the right side, an attempt to remove the locking carabiner involved pulling up above the mussy hooks to introduce slight slack into the system. While this facilitated the removal of the carabiner, it also inadvertently positioned the rope over the gates of the mussy hooks. The belayer, responding to the climber's movement, probably took up slack, felt the climber's weight, and subsequently the gates of the mussy hooks back-clipped under the full force of the climber's weight. This resulted in the rope becoming dislodged from the anchor.” 

BE A PRO, KEEP IT LOW

Delap noted that the addition of a locking carabiner to a mussy hook belay was inappropriate for the system. In this case, the locker probably brought the rope above the plane of the hooks, a mistake when considering the “open” nature of mussy hooks.

After the accident, Delap posted an Instagram video detailing some best practices for mussy use. Click here or on the photo to see the video.

“The best thing you can do is always stay below the mussy hooks, both with your anchor setup and your body,” Delap writes. “So be a pro, keep it low.”

Greg Barnes is executive director of the American Safe Climbing Association (ASCA). Though Barnes is a proponent of lower-offs such as mussy hooks, he says these useful tools have inherent limits.

He wrote to ANAC: “Lower-offs include hooks, ram's horns, fixed carabiners, etc. We have had a policy of avoiding hooks for popular top-rope-accessible routes because of the chance of hooks becoming unclipped as someone transitions to rappel.”

Although mussys have a proven safety record, Barnes believes, they still require eduation. He writes, “In Owens River Gorge, lower-offs [have been] the standard since the early ’90s. Despite very heavy climber traffic for 30 years, there have been very few anchor changeover accidents compared to similar areas with closed anchors. In the Sand Rock case, we don’t know whether the rope became accidentally unclipped or if the climber unclipped them on purpose. It is wise to have direct supervision—namely an experienced climber at the same anchor—when a new climber cleans an anchor.” (Sources: Karsten Delap, Greg Barnes, and the Editors.)

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EDUCATE: Everything You Didn't Know About Royal Robbins

Most climbers know the name Royal Robbins. But how much do you really know about this legendary figure in American climbing? Writer and editor David Smart has written a new award winning biography of Royal, called Royal Robbins: The American Climber. The AAC sat down with David to discuss how Royal’s revolutionary years in Yosemite fits into the grander scheme of climbing history, the undervalued climbs from Royal’s life, his writerly intellectualism, bringing nuts to the US to replace pitons, his famed frenemy Warren Harding, and his mixed feelings around bolting throughout his career. Dive into the episode to learn more about one of climbing history’s biggest personalities!

The Prescription—November

Winter is coming and our attentions are shifting to sunny destinations like Southern Arizona. This month we have an unfortunate mishap that occurred last winter on one of the region’s premier backcountry crags.

Table Dome is one of the more readily accessible formations in Mendoza Canyon. Still, the approach is long and rugged. Photo: Jerry Cagle

Fall on Rock | Broken Hold

Arizona, Mendoza Canyon, Table Dome

On February 24, 2023, Steve Sagin (58) and Jerry Cagle (70) were climbing Wily Javelina (6 pitches, 5.9, PG-13) on Table Dome in the remote Mendoza Canyon, southwest of Tucson. On pitch five, Sagin broke a hold and took a long leader fall.

Cagle recounted the following in a report to ANAC:

“We began planning for this climb with a check of the predicted weather for the day: pleasantly warm around midday with an occasional light breeze. Our spouses were informed of our plans.

Steve Sagin leading pitch one of Wily Javelina. Cagle notes, “The first bolt is 30 to 40 feet off the ground.” He adds, “The climbing in the canyon is on granite; the quality varies from corn-flake crust to bombproof.” Photo: Jerry Cagle.

“Wily Javelina is a coveted route and considered a bit of a testpiece. Though it’s frequently climbed using just the bolts, the distances between are considerable, but can be supplemented with gear—albeit possibly dubious—so we also carried a light rack. We each carried a cell phone, and I carried a Garmin inReach Mini. We had jackets, space blankets, food, water, and headlamps.

“Reaching the start of the approach hike entails driving for 9.5 miles on an unmaintained dirt road after leaving the highway. The approach wends through two miles of rugged trails. The areas adjacent to the paths present an impenetrable barrier of cat-claw acacias and thorny mesquite trees.

“It was around 10 a.m. when we started climbing. Steve led pitch one, then we swung leads. Though I had always shied away from this route due to its reputation of serious runouts and sections of poor-quality rock, neither of us was excessively nervous about the risk. But throughout the course of the climb, we repeated the mantra that ‘falling was not an option.’ It is my considered opinion that this route is the textbook definition of an ‘R’ rated route and not PG-13 (as graded on Mountain Project).

“We continued climbing carefully without incident. As Steve led pitch five, he passed the middle mark on the ropes (60m x 7.9mm twin/half). He was well past the second bolt on the chickenhead-studded upper section, at the start of the easier climbing, when a large hold fractured, sending considerable debris past my helmet. He fell, striking a large ledge 30 or 40 feet below him with the full force of his weight. The rope came taut as he started to slide off the ledge. It was immediately obvious that he was seriously injured.

“We determined that lowering him to my position at the anchor was our best option. We had enough rope to lower him to the stance with about ten feet to spare.

“Steve was bleeding in several places but not excessively. His broken ankle was likely the most serious injury, and we determined it was not a compound [open] fracture. We knew we couldn’t extricate ourselves from the canyon due to the difficult terrain, so I pulled out the inReach, only to discover that the batteries were dead. We next dialed 911 on my cell phone. The battery was low, having recorded our approach using the Gaia GPS application. To our surprise, a voice came on the other end asking, ‘What's your emergency?’ We explained our situation and indicated that we intended to rappel the route but would require assistance to evacuate.

The rough approach to Table Dome factored into the call for a helicopter rescue. Cagle wrote, “The topography is generally rugged and invariably involves various some degree of bushwhacking.” Photo: Jerry Cagle

“We were starting the last rappel when we heard a helicopter approaching. It came into sight before we reached the ground. A Pima County Sheriff’s Department officer was lowered, and he hooked Steve up to the rescue cable. They flew him to an ambulance which took him to a hospital in Tucson. I was left to return on my own accord and was able to get back to the truck without incident.

“X-rays taken at the hospital showed that Steve's tibia was shattered into eight pieces. The fibula was, thankfully, not involved. This could have just as easily resulted in a fatality had he landed differently.”

ANALYSIS

The duo was very experienced, having over 60 years of climbing between them. Sagin had climbed extensively in Mendoza Canyon, and this was his sixth time on Wily Javelina. Despite this, several factors contributed to the accident.

“But for luck, several other failures could have easily compounded the difficulty of our situation:

  1. My failure to make certain that the battery on the inReach was charged.

  2. My cell phone battery wasn't fully charged when we left that morning. I had intended to charge it on the ride but didn’t have a compatible cable.

  3. On the approach, I didn’t pay sufficient attention to our surroundings and let Steve lead the way while I chatted and followed blindly along. On the return I depended heavily on the GPS track I had recorded on my phone. Had the phone failed for any reason, I am pretty sure I would've gotten lost and had to bivouac.

“As a result of this incident, I now strive, when climbing or hiking, to cultivate a mindset that assumes that there WILL be an accident and to be fully prepared, both in skills and resources.” (Source: Jerry Cagle.)

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Climbers of the Craggin' Classics: Shelf Road

PC: Rob Murillo @murillo.fotographia

We’re interviewing a climber from each event in the Craggin’ Classic Series—Rumney, New River Gorge, Devil’s Lake, Smith Rock, Shelf Road, Moab, and Bishop—to take a deep look into the breadth of climbers that come to Craggins, and how they make the most of each unique event.

Read on to hear from climbers just like you, and their take on the things that matter to climbers.

Meet Featured Climber Stephen Lyter!

Scroll to hear from Stephen about climbing education and safety…

2023 Craggin’ Classic Series Supported By