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K2 1938: The First American Karakoram Expedition

Despite the Obstacles: A Story from the Live Your Dream Grant

Adapted from the 2018 Live Your Dream Grant trip report by Bria Riggs.

Sometimes the dream is adventure. Sometimes the dream is discovery. For Bria Riggs, the Live Your Dream Grant allowed her to pursue both dreams simultaneously.

Bria’s funded trip brought her to the Cordillera Blanca region of Peru, where she spent almost eight weeks mountaineering and collecting scientific field data. Working with the American Climber Science Program, Bria ventured to six different valleys within the region and glimpsed countless beautiful peaks. She summited three major peaks (Villanaraju, Pisco, and Ishinca) and attempted two others. 

This expedition was focused on high mountain environmental science, in which her team combined mountaineering and science in order to investigate the impacts of climate change on the glaciers in the region. Specifically, Bria was studying and simulating the impacts of light absorbing particles on glacial melt. She would then go on to use this data in her senior thesis at Bates College.

As both a lover of the mountains and a scientist, Bria couldn’t have asked for a better research experience or introduction into expedition life. 

Over the course of the eight-week expedition, Bria’s team ran into minimal issues. Overall they had great weather conditions for climbing and were only snowed out of one peak (Maparaju). However, an ice bridge that connects to the summit pyramid of Chopicalqui kept them from attempting that peak, which would have been their highest peak of the expedition. To Bria, it felt ironic that climate change is what kept them from collecting their data on Chopicalqui and also kept some of their team from summiting Tocllaraju due to glacial recession and an increase in crevasse danger. 

Unfortunately, Bria  tore three ligaments in her ankle two weeks into the expedition on their first big climb up Andevite. However, Bria continued to climb as much as she could throughout the remaining six weeks but was unable to summit Urus Este and Yanapacha. While this was upsetting, her expedition was still wildly successful in her own eyes. Bria climbed to a new personal elevation record, collected great field data for her thesis, and fell in love with the people, culture, and landscapes of the Cordillera Blanca. The peaks that she was able to summit were incredible and absolutely humbling. 

Bria remembers coming over the crest to the summit of Villanaraju and being filled with joy and wonder. After weeks of frustration and pain from her injury, she had finally reached a summit and was so overwhelmed at that moment. Bria continued to have this same feeling with all of the team’s other summits, solidifying the fact that this is why she climbs and is fighting to save such beautiful places. 

Bria Reflected: “This expedition has had a tremendously positive impact on my climbing career. Not only did it allow me to climb bigger peaks than I ever have, but the experience also taught me a lot about expedition life. While it would have been great if everything had gone perfectly smoothly, in some ways, I am happy I had challenges and setbacks. I think my experiences showed me that in mountaineering, as in scientific research, there are always obstacles and despite these obstacles, I still loved being in the mountains and climbing for the full eight weeks. As a climber, this expedition opened up my eyes to the amazing life of climbing more than any of my previous experiences. Now, more than ever, I am excited to plan my next adventures and attempt to climb bigger and more technical peaks. 

“I have a lot of ski mountaineering experience, but my time in Peru has allowed me to further enhance my rope, crevasse rescue, and overall glacial travel skills. By solely mountaineering, this experience allowed me to focus on the ascent more than the descent as opposed to my previous skiing adventures. I am also more excited about climbing bigger peaks with technical routes.  This expedition was a perfect stepping stone for me to learn more skills and get ready to chase bigger climbs in bigger ranges.”

For Bria, chasing her dreams of discovery and adventure opened her up to the possibilities of future dreams. That is what the Live Your Dream Grant is all about. 

The Live Your Dream Grant is powered by The North Face.

The Prescription – March 2022

Surviving El Gigante

Mark Hudon and Jordan Cannon

Jordan Cannon and Mark Hudon are headlining the AAC’s Annual Benefit Gala in Denver on March 26, sharing stories of their unique and productive climbing partnership. (Tickets are still available for both the in-person and streamed events—get them here!) We asked these big-wall experts and close friends to share stories of near misses they’ve experienced, and Jordan shared a wild tale from El Gigante, a huge wall in Chihuahua, Mexico.

In January 2019, Jordan and Hayden Jamieson attempted Logical Progression, a 28-pitch 5.13 on El Gigante that’s typically approached from above, by rappelling in and climbing out. Jordan and Hayden stashed gear for two bivouacs on their way down the wall and then started climbing back out. The first two days went well, as they worked on the crux pitches and bivouacked eight pitches up….

Photo by Hayden Jamieson

“Day 3 was where things took a turn for the worse,” Hayden wrote in a story at the Gnarly Nutrition website. “I was woken at sunrise to the unwelcome sensation of light rain on my face.” The two continued up the wall, aiming for their next bivy cache at the top of pitch 17. But the rain kept getting stronger, and by pitch 14, they were in trouble. “We had nearly no food, very little water, we were still 200 to 300 feet below our next stash of food, the rain was getting heavier, and our clothes were saturated with water down to our underwear… Several microwave-sized blocks were blown off the wall from above and narrowly missed both of us.” The two 5.13 climbers found it impossible to climb run-out 5.11. They were stuck.

In pounding rain, they set up their portaledge and rigged their haul bag on bolts above them to guard against rockfall. But they were already soaked. “That night was certainly the longest, coldest, and most terrifying night of either of our lives,” Hayden wrote. “We shivered uncontrollably and spooned each other for warmth as the storm raged all around us.” Luckily, the clouds cleared in the morning, and they made their way up the rock by any means necessary, refueled at their food cache, and pushed to the top, 16 hours after leaving their bivouac.

Happy to be alive. Photo by Hayden Jamieson

LESSONS LEARNED

Says Jordan: “I think we were very close to dying of hypothermia, waiting it out in a poor position with inadequate gear. All of which could have easily been avoided if I had taken a note out of Mark Hudon’s book on big wall preparedness! Thankfully, I learned my lesson and even picked up some more wall tips from Mark during our time climbing together after that trip.”

Here are some of the things Jordan has learned about preparing for storms on big walls:

1. Never bring down sleeping bags (or down jackets, if you can help it). Always synthetic, because it will keep you warm even when it’s wet.

2. Always bring a bivy sack. Even when you think you won’t need it. (We, stupidly, decided to leave ours on the summit before we rapped the wall.)

3. Make sure your rain fly is in good condition. Ours was old and had holes in it, so it leaked.

4. Always bring some sort of emergency kit consisting of a rain jacket, rain pants, base layers (top and bottoms), hat, gloves, and warm socks. You likely won’t use any of it, but if you do, you'll be glad to have it!

5. Bring an inReach or some kind of satellite phone, especially if the wall is remote.

6. In the face of bad weather, it’s better to hunker down before a storm rather than waiting for it to hit and getting wetter than necessary in the process.

Mark Hudon (top) and Jordan Cannon in Zion National Park. Photo by Samuel Crossley

“Don't underestimate the seriousness of big wall climbing and the threat of inclement weather, especially on a remote big wall in Mexico in the dead of winter. (But in Yosemite, too!) Even if it is just ‘big wall sport climbing,’ that doesn't mean it’s will be casual. Always be prepared for the worst!”

Mark Hudon has been climbing big walls since the late 1970s and has compiled some of his expertise into excellent downloadable PDFs at his website. And remember, you can see Mark and Jordan together at the AAC’s Annual Benefit Gala on March 26. Don’t miss it!

El Cap Stories

As Jordan Cannon says, you don’t have to be in a remote canyon in Mexico to get into serious trouble when a storm hits a wall. The pages of ANAC have reported many such incidents from El Capitan over the years. Here are two examples:

• In September 1991, “the first winter storm of the season moved into the Central Sierra, dropping 4.5 inches of rain at lower elevations with snow level reaching 4,000 feet.” Two pairs of very experienced climbers ended up getting rescued from hard El Cap routes: One had been trapped in a run-off waterfall on the Sea of Dreams route, and the other was nearing the top of Native Son when one of the climbers got hypothermia.

 • In late May 1993, two climbers were trapped at Camp 5 on The Nose after heavy rain fell all day, causing mild hypothermia. Rescuers were able to lower about 800 feet from the rim to their position, give them dry clothes, and help them jumar out.  

A survey of 41 years of ANAC reports on The Nose (from 1974 to 2014) found that about one-quarter of all accidents involved weather and stranding. The “Danger Zones” article from ANAC 2015 focused on the major accident causes on the Nose: Read it here!

The Sharp End: Deadly Avalanche

In the latest Sharp End, Ken Wylie, author of the book Buried, recounts a horrific accident near Revelstoke, British Columbia, in January 2003.

If you’re a Sharp End fan, don’t miss the AAC’s Annual Benefit Gala on March 26. Ashley Saupe will be hosting a live interview for an upcoming show. In-person and streaming tickets are available here!

The monthly Prescription newsletter is supported by the members of the American Alpine Club. Questions? Suggestions? Write to us at [email protected].

 

Mark Hudon and Jordan Cannon: Keynote Speakers at AAC Annual Benefit Gala

Mark Hudon and Jordan Cannon in Yosemite. Photo by Jordan Cannon.

You may know about Mark and Jordan’s touching and hilarious partnership from the movie Free As Can Be, in which the two bond over their shared dream: freeing El Cap. But there is so much more to know about Jordan and Mark and their unique contributions to climbing! Check out the treasure trove of content below and learn more about these phenomenal climbers….and get hyped for their presentation at the Annual Benefit Gala, coming up on March 26th.

Learn More about Mark and Jordan:

Off Route but Overjoyed: A Story from the Live Your Dream Grant

Adapted from the 2021 Live Your Dream Grant trip report by Mason Risley.

Horses graze as the sun sets over the Tetons. Our route traverses from the right most prominence (Teewinot Mountain) left along the skyline to Nez Perce which is in the forward most mountain in the center of the skyline.

The Grand Traverse is a committing objective that climbs through the highest mountains of the Teton Range: The Traverse was first done in 1963 by Allen Steck, Dick Long, and John Evans going from south to north. Most modern ascents are done north to south and this was what my climbing partner Cvetomir Dimov and I did. The sequence of peaks traveled are: Teewinot Mountain (12,330’), Peak 11,840, East Prong (12,055’), Mount Owen (12,933’), the Grand Teton (13,775’), the Middle Teton (12,809’), the South Teton (12,519’), Ice Cream Cone (12,405’), Gilkey Tower (12,320’), Spalding Peak (12,240’), Cloudveil Dome (12,026’), and finally Nez Perce (11,901’) before dropping back down into Garnet Canyon and returning to the Lupine Meadows trailhead. All told, the trip we planned would be twelve peaks, nearly 13,000 feet of elevation gain, and 14 miles of travel. 

My partner Cvetomir and I decided to make the attempt over the course of three days because we had not done the route before and wanted to give ourselves the best chance for success. 

This objective pushed our physical and mental limits and left us feeling stoked, stronger and more accomplished in our alpine climbing skills. This route and other alpine climbs like it demand excellent endurance, strong climbing abilities, solid judgment, and a dialed gear system that keeps weight to a minimum. In addition, route finding skills and the ability to recognize and correct mistakes quickly is key. Experiences above treeline such as the Traverse stay with you, make you stronger and more versed in alpine climbing. 

The couple hiccups we ran into each day of the traverse cost us some time and in one case a rope, but fortunately nothing else. The story of our attempt on the Grand Traverse is filled with many close-calls, mistakes, and wasted-time, but that is not unique for this kind of adventure. Nothing ever goes as planned in the alpine, so the obstacles that we encountered were pretty par for the course. But as we learned, pushed through fear, and mitigated risk, the stoke just kept increasing. 

We may have found ourselves off route a few times, but that only made the taste of each summit all the sweeter.

Day 1 Moving Time: 14 hours 17 minutes

0345 hours Sunday, August 15th, 2021. The alarm goes off and I embrace the sore grogginess that comes with getting 4 hours of sleep.  

Cvetomir and I had just done a 5.8 warm up climb in Cascade Canyon called Guide’s Wall the day before. Though we cruised the route in good time, it was a solid day of activity which started at 0600 in the morning to get permits for the Grand Traverse. Due to an incoming storm forecast to hit the Tetons that Wednesday—the end of our 3 day weather window—we didn’t have any time for a rest day before the push. 

We started up the seemingly endless switchbacks by headlamp leaving the van at 0420. 

Gearing up for the sufferfest.

Setback #1: Our packs were as light as we could have managed, each of us carrying about 33lbs of climbing gear, a 50m half rope each, food, layers, and a sleep system that would nominally allow us to stay comfortable enough to actually get some shut eye while on route. As dawn approached however, something we hadn’t expected was becoming visible with the early morning dawn: rain clouds, and the not too distant sound of thunder. Right around dawn we started to feel spitting rain. We sought shelter under the few remaining trees before we passed above treeline on the way to Teewinot—around 10,600 feet. We sat down for a moment, looked at the sky and decided to wait it out. 

With half an hour wasted, we started up the remaining 1,600 feet of 4th class and low 5th class terrain as the sun began to appear past the clouds that had been hanging over us. 

Setback #2: The Traverse comes with many challenges, one of which was getting water on route. There are only a few reliable locations on the Traverse where one can get water: 1) the Owen snow field; 2) the snow melt from the boulder field at the lower saddle; and 3) sometimes a small drip that can be formed from snow melt at the saddle between the Middle and South Tetons. Given the scarcity of the precious resource we stopped at the first sight of a slow drip coming off some ice. It was still early morning and the drip of water was painfully slow, but both Cvet and I had already drank a solid liter or more of water at that point gaining the first 3,000 feet of elevation. We filtered up a couple liters of water each and kept on moving. Unfortunately this water recon cost us another 15 to 20 minutes of valuable time. 

Cvetomir Dimov and Mason Risley on the summit of Teewinot Mountain with the Grand Teton and Mt Owen in background.

Setback #3: While Cvet and I were moving up the Teewinot we were passed by another climber who had no backpack or gear and was merely doing his cardio for the week. He said he had been up there many times. So when he passed us we watched him go towards a gully on the northern side of the east face (climbers right). We assumed he was on the standard route and decided to follow his path, although he quickly went out of sight. Upon reaching the gully he had passed through, we realized we were in steeper terrain and the path we were on was taking us off route. After some tenuous scrambling, we quickly reached the exposed summit of the Teewinot around 1000 hours. This was the first, but not the last, time we would head off-route. 

Setback #4: From the Teewinot we made quick work to gain Peak 11,840. At this point we crossed paths with another team also doing the Traverse over 3 days: Jackson, an arborist from Seattle, and Naphun, who was living in Lander, WY working for NOLS. Jackson and Naphun had a single 50m rope and the route beta indicated one needed a 60m rope to reach the ground on the last rappel off peak 11,840. Cvet and I were climbing with double 50m ropes, so we joined teams and rappelled off the west face in two raps: a single 50m rope followed by a double 50m rope passing the last rap station. In hindsight we should have done 3 raps as the rope got stuck when being pulled because we combined the second and third rap. At this point we ran into another group of climbers also doing the Traverse: On several other occasions during the Traverse we crossed paths with their team and worked together to figure out the route. 

Looking back at the East Prong and Koven Col from the base of Mt. Owen. We down climbed the exposed interface between the snow and shadowed rock face.

Near Miss #1: Scrambling up to the East Prong was pretty straight forward, however descending the East Prong into the Koven Col presented a tenuous problem of down climbing a wet rock face adjacent to a hard frozen 70 degree snow slope. The rock had no viable protection and a fall here would result in a quick slide down the snow slope to one’s death in a boulder field 600 feet below. Cvet and I gingerly soloed down the wet rock and on several occasions had to do foot jams in the gap between the ice and the rock. We had brought a singular glacier ax but the summer névé was so hard frozen that crampons and at least one tech tool would have been necessary to traverse it with any appreciable level of security. 

Setback #5: We scrambled up another several hundred feet from the Koven Col to the east facing Owen snowfields. Jackson and Naphun were ahead of us and had dropped their packs and soloed up the north east face of Owen. Cvetomir and I refilled our water then scouted out where to go next to gain the Koven Chimney route to summit Owen. On the southern side of the Owen summit block we found a notch leading to the west side of Owen’s south ridge with some rap anchors. This gully was our descent from Owen to reach the gunsight notch separating Owen’s south ridge from the Grandstand and north ridge of the Grand. We dropped our packs here and decided to solo up the 5.4 Koven Route which looked easy from where we were standing. However, Jackson and Naphun now came back into sight down-climbing the lower stretch of the Koven Route, they looked uncomfortable and sketched out so Cvet and I decided to bring one 50m rope and rap the route as opposed to down-climb it, which also gave us the option of roping up if we felt we needed it. We soloed up to the top of Owen and at the final summit block missed the small gash that gains the final chimney to the proper summit.  We walked to the north side of the summit block which provided an extremely exposed and unprotected mantle move to the summit. Backing off of this particular move we turned back, preparing to go down the route and keep moving towards the Grandstand when we found the correct chimney and gained the summit.

Awesome bivy site at 12,300 feet on the south ridge of Owen. The North Ridge of the Grand Teton beckons.

Near Miss #2: Returning to our packs after a few raps down the Koven Route we did a double 50m rap down what was probably the worst and most sketchy rap I had ever done. The rappel was through a choss filled death gully and the entire time I was going down I was terrified of the rope knocking a basketball sized block down on top of me. As soon as I was off rappel I ran far out of the path of the gully as Cvet came down knocking rocks down as he went. We continued navigating the terrain towards the gunsight and found a bivy site on the Owen side of the notch. It was about 7pm at this point, we still had about 2 hours of light left but we were both exhausted and decided to bivy there that night as opposed to getting up to the base of the north ridge that evening. This was the right call as the next morning it took us a solid 3 hours from that bivy just to reach the Grandstand which involved several double rope raps into the gunsight followed by a couple of pitches and more scrambling to reach the Grandstand. 

During this first day due to the amount of exertion from the elevation gain and altitude, both Cvetomir and I drank about 6 Liters and were still struggling to stay hydrated. We topped off 3 L of water each from the Owen snowfield with the hope of having 1L for dinner and breakfast and 2L of water for the North Ridge of the Grand the next day. 

Day 2 Moving Time: 13 hours 44 minutes

Starting out from our bivy spot at a leisurely 0640 we moved to the top of the gunsight and proceeded to do three full 50m raps to the bottom before I led up the first pitch out of the notch towards the Grandstand. Cvet swung leads and took point on the second pitch which was fun mellow climbing up large holds on golden granite. Scrambling the remaining several hundred feet of elevation brought us to the top of the Grandstand and the start of the North Ridge. Cvet and I swung leads on the ridge.  We reached a large chossy shelf and decided to take the Italian Crack variation of the ridge as opposed to the classic Chock Stone Chimney. This decision was made in the interest of saving time but ended up likely taking more time to complete than had we stuck with the original route plan. 

Setback #6: We had done our route research for the standard Chock Stone Chimney and didn’t have a solid grasp on where the Italian Crack variation was. Looking at topo’s and route beta for the Italian Crack we thought we saw the correct route. Jackson and Naphun also arrived and between the 4 of us, looking at the same topo and different guide book sources we had brought, we decided we had identified the correct line for the start, which should have been a 5.5 face up to a 5.6 roof. In reality our respective teams put up some interesting variations to the north ridge…neither variation is recommended. Because Jackson and Naphun were moving faster than us we let them lead up the route and figured we would follow them. It cost about 1.5 hours of time and seeing Jackson struggle on their line we took another line to the immediate left of theirs. 

Not The Italian Cracks! Grand Teton North Ridge Jackson-Naphun variation in red and the Cvetomir-Mason variation in yellow. 5.10b; Not recommended.

Cvetomir was taking the lead for this pitch and started up a small rock pillar to gain the face. Moving up the face the terrain quickly entered 5.7 and 5.8 territory before reaching a roof move which we both felt was around the 5.10a/b grade. We were very much off route and our only option was to continue up, as bailing from our position would have been more time consuming and dangerous than proceeding. I took the next lead up bulging 5.7 terrain trending left to a small alcove of dark rock. Out of rope and most of my pro, I finagled a solid anchor out of micro cam, a nut, and a tricam, and brought Cvet up. Cvetomir launched up the next pitch which was a grade more mellow and brought us to the second ledge of the north face. This allowed us to traverse west to resume the proper N. Ridge route. 

I took the next lead up the first set of chimneys trending left then around to a dual chimney system both of which had a chock stone in them. I went to the left for a full 50m pitch. Cvet swung leads and continued up the chimney for another cruxy chock stone feature topping out at a field of steep boulders in 4th class terrain at the top of the chimney. At this point we put the ropes in our packs and scrambled to the summit. Getting off route cost us valuable time and resulted in us taking 8 hours to complete the north ridge.

Despite being on the summit so late in the day, we still were stuck behind a couple parties rapping off after completing the Exum Ridge, they said there were 7 or 8 parties doing the Exum Ridge that day. We finished the raps off the Owen Spalding (OS) route at 1950 and started down the OS gully towards the lower saddle. It took us 1 hour to get down from the upper saddle to the lower saddle and during which time a strong wind and rain storm rolled through with gusts up to 35mph and intermittent heavy rain. We found a boulder bivy spot near the lower saddle water source and passed out for the night after another long day. Neither Cvetomir or I had any appetite and had to force down our dinner rations before turning in. 

Approximate line of route taken on North Ridge of the Grand. The middle section we were off route but made it go. The actual Italian Cracks route goes much further left on the northern aspect of the ridge.

Day 3 Moving Time: 15 hours 15 minutes

The alarm went off at 0430 after another unrestful night of tossing, turning, waking up due to occasional rain pours, gusting winds and later by loud hikers ascending the OS route. As we woke up and looked down from the lower saddle we saw what seemed to be upwards of 30 to 40 headlamps hiking up from the moraines and to the OS gully. I woke up with a decent appetite and ate my breakfast ration and the dessert I meant to eat the night before but couldn't. We forced ourselves to drink a full liter of water and filtered another 2L each before starting up the Middle Teton at 0555. We reached the apex of the notch separating the Bonnie pinnacle from the north ridge of the Middle Teton at 0645 and simul-climbed the North Ridge up to the crux 5.6 crack pitch at the apex of the black dike running through the center of the Middle. 

Setback #7: We reached the summit of the Middle at 0815 and had good momentum going. Jackson and Naphun also caught up with us on the Middle Teton and we started down together. We promptly botched the descent and instead of heading towards the west end of the summit and the correct 3rd class descent, we went due south attracted by rap gear. We did a couple of 50m raps before realizing we were completely off course and cliffed out to our south and eastern aspects. We climbed back up to the summit of the Middle and found the correct descent path but wasted a good 2 hours in the process.  

Cvetomir and I scrambled up the South Teton which was just 3rd and 4th class terrain and then dropped down to the base of the Ice Cream Cone. The Ice Cream Cone had a fun 5.7 pitch which led up to the exceptionally exposed summit spike. We thought we were on easy street for the rest of the day with nothing but 4th class scrambling along the ridge, however route finding issues and the occasional 5.4 to 5.6 X rated move on these exposed ridges kept our progress fairly slow and methodical. 

Peak Number 7 - Cvetomir and Mason on the Summit of the South Teton

Near Miss #3: Between the Ice Cream Cone and Gilkey Tower we opted to rappel down to a notch as opposed to soloing up and over the first gendarme protecting the summit. Cvet saw a rap anchor, I looked over the cliff down into the notch and it didn’t look that bad, but once I rapped into it I found myself on another death slope of hard summer snow terminating in a boulder field 1,000 feet below me. I stayed on rappel as I climbed up the notch to get off the ice and onto chossy, loose death blocks to regain the notch. I should have yelled up to Cvet to go a different way but was too focused on not dying. 

Looking east from the summit of the South Teton, the remaining obstacles for the traverse: Ice Cream Cone and the Gilkey Tower in the foreground, Cloudveil and Nez Perce in upper center. Spalding peak is hidden by Gilkey Tower. The left sloping snow field peaking out from behind the Ice Cream Cone is part of the death gully where the rappel went poorly and we lost a rope.

He followed down on the rappel and did the same. I moved as carefully as I could on the steep loose rock to prevent sending a boulder down onto Cvet. Cvet dropped his belay plate at the rap and came down on a munter hitch. Once off rappel he attempted to pull the rope but due to having to climb up from the ice slope and the twists in the rope from the munter hitch, the rope didn’t budge. We looked at each other and in about 2 seconds both agreed to split the cost of the rope and abandon it, figuring it would easily cost us an hour or two to recover, precious time which we couldn’t afford to lose.  We were climbing on two 50m half ropes and still had one more 50m half rope if we needed to rappel anything else, which we did later on Cloudveil dome.  

After spending hours of solo down climbing and scrambling the 4th and low 5th class terrain on the ridge to Cloudveil dome we reached it’s summit by 1550. We were both fairly tired and I was mentally fatigued more than anything else: being hyper focused while soloing exposed terrain for hours on end really drains you. 

Cvet and I looked at Nez Perce. We looked at our watches. We looked at the sky. 

Setback #8: Clouds were rolling in from the west, we were still at least two solid hours away from the summit of Nez Perce and we only had one of our ropes left. We decided to get off Cloudveil Dome and descend. 

Having successfully hit 11 of the 12 peaks on the Traverse, and survived with minimal gear on the mountains for 3 days, we were satisfied with our effort. That was the right call. Forty minutes into our descent a thunderstorm rolled in with lightning hitting the ridge we were just on and rain pummeling us. 

We got back to the van at Lupine Meadows just as the last light was fading around 2115. By 2200 hours the storm front rolled in with strong winds and heavy rain for the next three days. A solid foot of snow dumped on the top of the Grand with that storm shutting the upper mountains down for the next week. Cvetomir and I met up with Jackson and Naphun the next morning having a late breakfast at Bubba’s in Jackson, celebrating our successful traverse and thinking about the next climb.

Data for Future Success

The main things I wish I had done beforehand was more route research, which possibly could have prevented the slow down on Owen, getting off-route on the Italian Cracks, and descending the Middle. It is a complicated environment and it’s easy to be tempted into following an obvious line which leads you off-route, or a tat anchor that sends you on a dangerous rappel, or another climbing party which may or may not be on the route you intended to follow.

Even with all of the setbacks and near misses, we learned a lot. Mistakes are what give us the data for future success. Making tough gametime decisions in the mountains just sharpened our craving and capacity for safer, more streamlined, epic adventures.

Elevation profile of the Traverse.

The Live Your Dream Grant is powered by The North Face.

CLIMB: World Champion Natalia Grossman Talks Community and Trying Hard

Episode 03

CLIMB: World Champion Natalia Grossman Talks Community and Trying Hard

Bouldering World Champion Natalia Grossman is one of this year's winners of the Robert Hicks Bates Award, an award we celebrate at our upcoming Annual Benefit Gala. We decided to sit down with Natalia and talk competition, community, and trying hard, to get more of a picture of how she thinks as a competitor that has immense potential to keep taking the climbing world by storm.

Gunks Campground & Climbing History

Photo by AAC Member Chris Vultaggio

Since 2006, the Mohonk Preserve, New York State Office of Parks, Recreation, and Historic Preservation, the Palisades Interstate Park Commission, and the American Alpine Club partnered together to create a campground near the popular Shawangunks climbing area. Construction was completed in 2014 by The Palisades Interstate Park Commission, and now The American Alpine Club and The Mohonk Preserve operate and manage 50 brand-new campsites, all within a stone's throw of miles of world-class rock. This is a watershed moment for one of the most popular rock-climbing areas in the country.  For the first time since climbing in the “Gunks” began over 80 years ago, hot showers and running water are available for climbers who want to camp within view of the cliffs.

Just 90 miles north of New York City, the Gunks offers about 1,200 routes up to 5.14 on immaculate quartzite, with spectacular views of the Hudson Valley below. As you walk the historic carriage roads that access the cliffs, you feel part of the climbing history that dates back to 1935. The Gunks climbing history starts with Fritz Wiessner, a European immigrant with extensive mountaineering experience. He noticed the cliff from across the Hudson River and returned the next week to document the first technical climb, “Old Route” (5.5) on Millbrook. Hans Kraus was the second immigrant with mountaineering experience to arrive on the scene.  Together the duo would lay the groundwork for traditional climbing in the Gunks, cementing their legendary status by pairing up for FA’s of world class routes such as “Horseman” (5.5) and “High Exposure” (5.6). Women played a steady hand in climbing and exploring, most notable from this time period was Bonnie Prudden with over 30 FA’s to her credit, including the mouth-watering “Bonnie’s Roof” (5.9). 

During the late 40s and early 50s climbers continued exploring the wealth of potential in the Gunks. William Shockley, a Nobel Prize-winning physicist (for his invention of the transistor), added the ever-popular “Shockley’s Ceiling” (5.6). Jim McCarthy, future president of the AAC, became the leading force for this era, contributing undisputed classics like “MF” (5.9) and “Birdland” (5.8). 

Up to this point, most climbers at the Gunks were associated with the Appalachian Mountain Club (AMC). The AMC were considered stodgy and uptight, and they wanted control over the cliff as regulators of who would and would not climb. This gave rise to a resistant group of climbers, who referred to themselves as the Vulgarians and were often fueled by drugs, alcohol and loud music. They refused to follow the rules or recognize the AMC’s authority.  After several spats and disagreements, the Smiley Family (who owned the majority of the cliffs, granted the Vulgarians permission to climb and the presumed AMC dominance ended. 

Standards continued to rise with the onset of the ‘60s. Phil Jacobus climbed “Jacob’s Ladder” in 1961 to produce the Gunks’ first 5.10. Even to this day, it sees very few ascents due to the bold “X” rating. Yvon Chouinard and several other West Coast climbers arrived with several new hand-forged chromoly pitons, which turned out to be a game changer. Chouinard freed the first pitch of “Matinee” (5.10d) and aided through the second. The only person who could follow the pitch at this time was Dick Williams. William’s gymnastic background and dynamic style fit well with the sometimes-blank nature of the rock. He climbed the first, albeit short, 5.11called “Tweedle Dum”. In 1967, John Stannard sent the 8 foot aid ceiling known as “Foops” (5.11c) in a marathon 5-day siege. This style represented a shift; climbers began realizing that persistence and conditioning were needed to push standards forward. As such, many weekend warriors began training mid-week in order to be in top shape.

With the ‘70s came the Clean Climbing Era. Over the next several years, pitons fell out of fashion as it was becoming clear that they were leaving severe scars in the rock. John Stannard was a huge proponent of the idea of “clean climbing”, and in addition to only using clean gear, worked hard to make “clean and free” ascents of aid routes. Though Stannard was the biggest pusher of this new style, he wasn’t alone as climbers such as Marc Robinson, Kevin Bein, Steve Wunsch and John Bragg (like McCarthy, another future AAC employee) joined in the growing fray. Classics like “Gravity’s Rainbow”, “Kansas City” and “Happiness is a 110 Degree Wall” (all 5.12c) represent some of the best and hardest lines from this era. Another influential climber to come out of this time period, and one who adhered to a strict code of preservationist ethics, was the indefatigable Rich Romano. Over the next several decades, Romano would establish hundreds of climbs, and develop 90% of the entire cliff of Millbrook.

The ‘80s brought a continuation of Stannard’s ideas of free-climbing, as aid climbing had become obsolete. More and more climbers joined the scene, the most prolific being Russ Raffa, Russ Clune, Jack Mileski, Jeff Gruenberg, Hugh Herr, Mike Freeman, Jim Damon, and Felix Modugno. This collective, though not always acting cooperatively, added enough classic and scary routes to keep any climber busy for years. Lynn Hill, widely considered to be one of the best climbers of the time (male or female) moved to the Gunks in 1983. She joined the guys on many new routes such as “Vandals” (the Gunks’ first 5.13), and onsighted the FA of “Yellow Crack Direct” (5.12c R/X). Later on, another world class talent would storm the scene in the form of powerhouse Scott Franklin. He pushed Gunks standards to 5.14 with his ascent of “Planet Clair”, though he is better known for establishing the modern testpieces “Survival of the Fittest” (5.13a) and “Cybernetic Wall” (5.13d).  To this day, the magnitude of bold and hard climbing that was done during this time is yet to be fully appreciated. 

The inevitable decline in fast-paced development began in the ‘90s. Many key players from the days of yore had moved on or quit climbing, and much of the quality available lines had already been seized. However, some locals quested on, like Jordan Mills. He added many hard topropes like “Bladerunner” (5.13d) to the area, and these testpieces became the groundwork for what would become the bouldering revival of the late ‘90s. His climbs involved around nails-hard moves on barely-there holds, bridging the gap between bouldering and routes. As more and more climbers realized new route potential had mostly been covered in the ‘80s, enterprising locals turned to the next logical place for new climbs: the wealth of boulders at the base of the cliffs. With the invention of the crash pad, once-dangerous boulder problems were easily protected, and bouldering development exploded. Bouldering in the Gunks, long considered a sideshow to the main attraction of routes, firmly established itself as a legit pursuit. 

While it was long thought that the Gunks was all but climbed out, the last few years have shown otherwise. Thanks in part to modern gear, and stylistic choices like rappel inspection and toprope rehearsal, a new resurgence in the Gunks is taking place. In 2010, Cody Sims got the ball rolling when he completed his multi-year project to create “Ozone” (5.14a). This world-class route takes an incredible line up gorgeous rock, and is arguably the best route in the entire Gunks. Brian Kim applied modern bouldering skills to a steep prow to create “Monumantle” (5.13d R). Other climbers such as Whitney Boland, Andy Salo, Ken Murphy, Dustin Portzline and Christian Fracchia unearthed some modern gems and resurrected old forgotten classics. Lately, it’s not unusual to see a strong group of climbers brushing cobwebs off old testpieces, or swinging around inspecting for new lines. 

And now, thanks to the American Alpine Club and Mohonk Preserve, all this climbing and history can be just a short walk from your campsite. Each site has nicely padded camping beds, big enough for two small tents. We offer showers and sinks for cleaning your dishes, flushable toilets and handicap-friendly facilities. The well-constructed buildings are modern and the entire campground blends into the surroundings, keeping a quiet low-profile. Come for the weekend but don’t be surprised if you stay for the season. The Gunks’ magic permeates anyone fortunate enough to spend a perfect afternoon high above the trees, cutting feet as they pull over another classic overhang.


New River Gorge Campground History

Photo by AAC Member Bryan Miller

By Paul Nelson

Legend has it that the idea for an AAC campground at the New River Gorge originated at the New River Climbers’ Rendezvous around 2006. Former AAC president Jim Donini and members of the New River Alliance of Climbers (NRAC) began seriously discussing the idea of a climbers’ campground on or near National Park Service land within the New River Gorge National Scenic River. With the close cooperation of chief ranger Gary Hartley and park superintendent Don Striker, the AAC and NRAC began scouting out potential properties that were wooded, accessible, and near the beautiful sandstone climbing of the NRG that we all love.

By 2010, a property had been located—40 acres on the rim of the gorge near the community of Ames Heights—full of boulders, small cliff lines, old growth forest, and several streams. Due largely to the efforts of former AAC board member Cody Smith and support from the Access Fund, the Club purchased this beautiful parcel of land. 

This purchase could not have come at a more critical and opportune time for New River climbing. In 2011, the much-loved Roger’s Rocky Top Retreat—the major climbers’ campground in the area—closed down. There were plenty of campgrounds in the area, but none that could served as a sort of cultural hub for climbers to convene.

In 2011, work on sustainably developing the property began in earnest. Former AAC board member Jamie Logan designed buildings and landscaping, geographer Levi Rose mapped out the property, and NRAC president Gene Kistler began coordinating workers. The next year, 2012, Ben Harris and a team of horse-powered loggers cleared a major loop road through the campground, sawing and stacking all trees that they cut for future use.

In 2013, Jean Kistler, Zac Roper, and Micah Klinger continued to put in thousands of hours of work, carving out the campground’s forty individual campsites among the moss-covered boulders. They installed nearly eighty 10’x10’ elevated wooden tent platforms—a great benefit during West Virginia’s torrential summer downpours.

Stonemason B.J. Johnson built two large fire rings, and NRG climbing legend/arborist Eddie Begoon did extensive work on the property’s old growth forest. At this time, Paul Nelson also signed on as the campground’s manager/host. Under the supervision of Gene Kistler, a storage shed and massive septic system and leach field on-sight was built. Electricity and water were brought in, and installed, and a small one-room manager’s cabin was added. Most significant, in October of 2015 the shower house was finished. A beautiful structure with a large covered porch, dishwashing sink and radiant floor heating—all made from the wood that was grown and harvested right on our own property. During the final “push” of the improvement project, countless volunteers, workers, and campground residents chipped in to help.

Today, you can set up camp in a wooded site, wander over to a roaring fire to exchange beta with fellow climbers, take a walk to our on-site bouldering at the Tuggin’ Shack, Souvenir Roof, or run over to Junkyard crag. End the day with a hot shower or cocktails on our massive front porch. None of this would be possible without the help of the AAC, NRAC, AF, and most importantly thousands of volunteer hours by hundreds of climbers. This campground is truly the cultural hub of the New River climbing community—enjoy!

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Introducing the 2022 American Alpine Club Awardees

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Each year, the American Alpine Club (AAC) has the honor of presenting its prestigious Annual Climbing Awards to outstanding climbers, conservationists, and volunteers. This year’s awards include Sean Bailey, Natalia Grossman, Rick Reese, Pat Ament, John Kascenska, John Heilprin, David Nyman, and Joe Terravecchia.

The awards will be presented at the AAC Annual Bennefit Gala on March 26, 2022 in Denver, CO.

Honorary Membership

Arlene Blum & Steve Roper will be awarded honorary memberships this year. "Both are “household” names in the climbing community and have distinguished themselves over many years in the mountains through their pioneering leadership of difficult ascents and in areas of the arts and science in mountain related endeavors.

The Robert Hicks Bates Award

Sean Bailey & Natalia Grossman will receive the Robert Hicks Bates Award which honors young climbers who show "outstanding promise for future accomplishment." The selection committee wanted to focus on competition climbing. Sean won two lead world cups and a boulder world cup in 2021, while Natalia won the boulder world championships and won two boulder world cups.

The David R. Brower Award

Rick Reese will be awarded The David Brower Conservation Award. Rick co-founded the Greater Yellowstone Coalition, now the leading conservation group fighting for the protection of this over 4.5million acre iconic ecosystem comprising nearly a dozen mountain ranges. Rick was clearly one of the most important western conservationists of our generation not to mention a bold, tenacious and accomplished pioneer climber and former climbing ranger.

The H. Adams Carter Literary Award

The AAC Literary Committee will award Pat Ament he H. Adams Carter Literary Award. Pat would have 30 books published, approaching 200 magazine articles, and 25 pieces selected for various international anthologies of best climbing writings – more than any other person. His writings include many poems in literary magazines. President emeritus of the AAC, Jim McCarthy, has called Pat "the poet laureate of American climbing writing."

Angelo Heilprin Citation

John Kascenska & John Heilprin will be awarded the 2022 Heilprin Citation for their "exemplary service to the Club." John Kascenska joined the American Alpine Club in 1996 and for many years has volunteered with several Club activities. John Heilprin served on the board of directors from 2012 to 2018.

David A. Sowles Memorial Award

David Nyman will be awarded the David A Sowles Memorial Award for the eight-day ordeal to rescue/evacuate Jim Sweeney from the base of the Elevator Shaft on Mt. Johnson in 1989. The award is conferred from time to time on mountaineers who have distinguished themselves, with unselfish devotion at personal risk or sacrifice of a major objective, in going to the assistance of fellow climbers imperiled in the mountains.

Please join us at the Annual Benefit Gala on March 26, 2022 in Denver, CO to hear from the awardees

Hueco Origins: Remembering Todd Skinner

Todd Skinner and Scott Milton. John and Carol Gogas Collection

By Brad Werntz

As climbers, we play on a timeless playground. The mountains are eternal. When we grab a hold, we touch ancient magma, or the bed of a sea that dried up eons ago. Things—as they are—seem to be exactly as they were handed to us, unchanging and with un-questioned origin. Even when we know this is false, the illusion of the eternal in climbing is so deep we rarely think about it. Though we almost always stand in the long shadows of those who came before, often enough, we fail to recognize them. The bolts we clip seem to have always been there; the trails we walk forever treaded upon. The question of who put them there is not one we often ask ourselves, or even think to ask.

I read a few years back, with some amusement, an article in a major magazine about a trip to the Getu Valley of China, where in 2011 Petzl hosted their annual RocTrip. The author wrote with enthusiasm about the many fantastic routes they found on the Great Arch, marveling at how well equipped they were with modern, Western hardware, and a bit of whimsy, too. One route had a Chinese mask bolted into a hidden location, another, a red flag waving from it. The article asked: Who could have put these there? 

Indeed, who?

In the same vein, there’s been a lot of excitement about the American Alpine Club acquiring the Hueco Rock Ranch, which is the premier wayside for climbers from all over the world when they visit Hueco Tanks. It was at Hueco Tanks Historical Park that the modern sport of bouldering was born. The V-scale that is used worldwide to rate boulder problems was born there as well. Hueco is to bouldering what Yosemite is to traditional climbing, and every climber should make at least one pilgrimage to Hueco. Many over the years have stayed at the famous Hueco Rock Ranch.

Todd, Amy, Carol, and John. John and Carol Gogas Collection

As the Hueco Rock Ranch transitions from its most recent incarnation to the next, it seems appropriate to remember that it did not just simply rise from the desert any more than the bolts on the Great Arch of Getu placed themselves. As it turns out, the Hueco Rock Ranch and the Great Arch share something—or rather, someone—in common: Todd Skinner. Todd placed the bolts, the mask, and the flag in the Getu Valley, and he built the house that became the Hueco Rock Ranch as well.

The house itself was the final establishment in a series of ever-improving versions of the “Hueco Camp,” as Todd called it. Starting in the early 1980’s, Todd spent a major portion of the winter season at Hueco Tanks, at first in the campground, and sometimes as a guest of Pete Quonset’s hut. Later, he rented apartments or houses in El Paso that he shared with a rag-tag band of itinerant climbers. Paul Piana lived in one of these, boarded up like Harry Potter in a closet beneath the staircase. He closed his door on the rest of us as we spread out nightly over every square-inch of available carpet, covering the floor with semi-washed bodies and our greasy fart-sacks.

Amy Skinner, Carol Gogas, Sandra Studer. John and Carol Gogas Collection

By 1991, Todd had another vision of what would be. He and Amy Whisler joined Carol and John Gogas in purchasing a plot of land adjacent to Hueco Tanks. They were going to build a “palace,” he said. It would comfortably sleep 16 or more without a single body on the floor. It would have several full bathrooms so nobody would wait in line, or—for that matter—have an excuse to remain unwashed. The kitchen and the common area would be a gathering space around which the whole house was based. Most importantly, he added, the house would have no right angles. “We’d build it round if we could make it work,” Todd said.

For months, he carried around 4×6” stills of the work in progress. Todd pulled out the stack of photos for anyone who would lend an ear. Leaning in close to point out the details, he would say, “This is the foundation being poured…And here the walls are going up,” and, always, he shared a picture of Hueco Tanks at sunset, “This will be the view from the porch!”

Every aspect of the house was thought through for communal living. For instance, they put no doors on the cupboards, so that guests could tell at a glance if they had left something behind as they were packing to leave. The floors were bare concrete so that they would be easy to clean, and also to discourage people from sleeping on them. The house was built around the kitchen, because there was always a hired cook there to keep order. The tree in the kitchen came from the Gogas’ yard; when they installed it during the middle of winter, hundreds of hibernating ants suddenly awoke and invaded the new space.

Rooms were private, semi-private, and bunkhouse style. The original investors—Todd, Amy, John, and Carol—had their own rooms. Scott Milton and Sandra Studer earned a permanent, private space with their labor on behalf of the house, which long after it was “completed,” remained an ongoing construction project. On rest-days, just about every guest there found themselves dry-walling, painting, sawing or hammering something, or running errands on behalf of the community in the house. Frankly, it was expected that visitors contribute not just dollars or food to the place, but also time as well. Todd knew that the natural order of things was attrition, so to fight this he sought to instill a culture of constant improvement. 

Fred Nicole, Scott Milton, and Todd Skinner. John and Carol Gogas Collection

There is absolutely no end to the stories of climbing history, household hilarity, and chaos that happened in that house:

Late one evening, Fred Nicole showed up after traveling directly from Europe. The next day, both jet-lagged and hung-over, he onsighted almost every project that the crew had been working on, saying casually and quietly in his heavy accent, “Yes, that is V11; this is V12…” 

Scott Milton could —and probably still can—fold his body up to fit into an average-sized Rubbermaid container. He did this one day as Bobbi Bensman arrived; our crew acted distracted and busy. Todd incidentally turned to Bobbi, “Hey Bobbi, can you hand us a hammer from out of that box?” As she reached into the box she discovered Milton with her fingertips. Legend has it that Bobbi’s latte did three full flips in the air before hitting the floor, but long before that the dust from her car had disappeared down the road.

In the house, there was almost always an unfortunate cat named Stumpy, but it was hardly ever the same cat. The original Stumpy lost her tail to a car, and likely lost her life to coyotes. Stumpy Mark II, Stumpy Mark III, and Stumpy Mark IV almost invariably suffered similar fates, but not always. One morning, we were in the kitchen as two well-fed coyotes came walking out of the desert near the back porch. Amy instinctively asked, “Where’s Stumpy?” And at that moment, we watched the cat—Mark III or Mark IV, I’m not sure which—walk out the front door. “Oh Lord!” Amy exclaimed as she chased after the cat into the desert, trying to scoop her up before the coyotes did. The rest of us fanned out of every door to chase the coyotes off, tossing rocks at them as they snarled back at us. 

All the while, climber’s relationships with the Hueco Tanks State Historical Park grew increasingly strained. Ranger Bob imposed arbitrary restrictions, making access to the park ever more difficult and absurd. When the Access Fund and others commissioned a study to catalog the Native American rock-art in the park and discovered that there were thousands more petroglyphs than originally believed—many of which had faded to the point of being almost invisible over time. But the writing was literally on the wall and things would change at Hueco forever. It was time to close the Hueco Camp.

Todd, Amy, Carol, and John sold the house to the crew that would turn it into the “Hueco Rock Ranch”. It operated as this for about ten years. Most of us never went back to Hueco after that, although recently this has changed. While the experience may be a bit different, the rock is just the same.

In the last few years of his life, Todd worked on projects the world over, many of which he never reported. He wanted to be the Fred Beckey of his generation, grabbing all of the world’s plum lines from current and future climbing generations. He wanted to pound pitons and place anchors where nobody had ever been and where they likely would never go for some time. If only, as an old man, he could then giggle at reported “first ascents” that were slightly marred by the discovery of gear left behind by “unknown others.”

Though he left Hueco behind, he did leave something for all of us: The Hueco Rock Ranch—now a part of the American Alpine Club holdings—will contribute to the sport of climbing for generations. And Todd would have liked this. In the end, he probably said this best in his own words:

“My own Hueco era comes to an end. That climbers are now arriving in search of something different is to be expected, and that my version of paradise is lost does not make their own less glorious.”

About the Author: Brad Werntz has been climbing on rocks and mountains worldwide for thirty-six years. He is the president of PEMBAserves Inc, a sales agency that represents Petzl along with other brands to the outdoor industry, and along with Todd Skinner and several others he is also the founder of Boulders Climbing Gym in Madison, WI. He lives and climbs with his wife and three kids in Madison.

History of the Hueco Rock Ranch

Photo by AAC Member Merrick Ales

The Hueco Rock Ranch has a long history—it was originally built as a personal residence by Todd Skinner in the mid-nineties with friends John and Carol Gogas and climbing stars such as Scott Milton and Fred Nicole. Rob Rice took ownership of the Ranch in 2000 and became the first commercial guide under the new set of climbing requirements, beckoning in a new generation of climbers to enjoy this historic climbing mecca. “The place was built by climbers—for climbers—and has been a hub for the climbing community since day one,” says Rob Rice.

Rice, now living in Arkansas, reached out to Access Fund for assistance in finding a climber-friendly buyer who could manage the Ranch onsite. Working with Rice and fellow landowner Scott Rohde, Access Fund reached out to the AAC whose vision of supporting the climbing way of life by providing lodging facilities and logistical support seemed a perfect fit for the Rock Ranch.

“Not only is the Hueco Rock Ranch important historically, it has played an important role in climbing access to Hueco Tanks,” says Access Fund Executive Director Brady Robinson. “Through the Ranch, climbers have fostered and maintained a positive relationship with Texas State Parks. Maintaining strong climber management of the Ranch is important for all climbers, even those who choose to stay elsewhere during their visit.”

Access Fund went under contract to purchase the Ranch in May 2012, and at closing, assigned the properties to the AAC for long-term ownership and management.

“Lodging options within walking distance from great climbing supports the climbing lifestyle we all enjoy—and this purchase of the Hueco Rock Ranch can only expand the types of climbing that we’re able to support,” says AAC CEO Phil Powers. “We hope to create a facility that meets climbers’ needs and adds opportunities for climbers to gather and share their stories.” 

The AAC made improvements to the Ranch—committing over $15,000 to completely clean and renovate the structures and tent camping facilities. An AAC staff member will be onsite overseeing these improvements.

History of the Grand Teton Climbers Ranch

The Grand Teton Climbers’ Ranch opened in 1970 under a Special Use Permit granted by the National Park Service to the American Alpine Club for the establishment of a "Mountain Climbing Center" in Grand Teton National Park. That original Special Use Permit specifically recognized that "mountain climbing is one of the principal visitor recreational uses in Grand Teton." The Climbers’ Ranch thus became the successor to the famous Jenny Lake climbers’ camp, which had been used by Tetons climbers from the 1950s until its closure in 1966.

The Climbers’ Ranch is located four miles inside the entrance to Grand Teton National Park at Moose, Wyoming, about 20 miles north of the town of Jackson. The ranch occupies a sanctuary at the end of a winding lane off Teton Park Road, across a bridge spanning Cottonwood Creek, and nestled against the high glacial moraine impounding Taggart and Bradley Lakes. Base altitude at the ranch is nearly 6,700 feet. Three miles north is Jenny Lake, the epicenter of the Park for both climbers and tourists, and the location of the Jenny Lake Ranger Station, at which expert information about technical climbing routes throughout the Park can be secured. The central peaks of the Teton Range, including the Grand, Middle, and South Tetons, Cloudveil Dome, Nez Perce, Mt. Owen, Teewinot, and other high alpine peaks can be approached on trails directly from the ranch. There are 10 peaks and multiple pinnacles in the Teton Range over 12,000 feet high.

In it’s original life, the Climbers’ Ranch was known as the Double Diamond Dude Ranch, which opened in 1924 and remained in operation either as a dude ranch or tourist camp through 1964, when Grand Teton National Park acquired the property. In 1985 the Taggart Lake/Beaver Creek Fire destroyed half of the original structures on the property. The ranch was resurrected through the cooperation of the Park Service and the American Alpine Club. The Ortenburger Cabin is so-­named since it is the first cabin brought to the property after the fire, through the efforts of Leigh Ortenburger, a prominent member of the AAC and author of A Climber’s Guide to the Teton Range. The Historic Lodge, constructed in the late 1920s and enlarged in 1945, originally served as the Double Diamond dining hall, and was placed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1998.

History of AAC Snowbird Hut

The AAC acquired the land use permit for the Snowbird Hut in 2006. After reviewing the state of the original ‘space dome’ structure originally constructed in (approx.) 1985 it was determined to be at the end of its useful life. Alaska Section members Harry Hunt, James Brady, Cindi Squire, Cory Hinds, and Charlie Sassara led the charge to fund and construct the building of a replacement hut. Chronological postings and pictures of the volunteer work parties that have been ongoing since July 2010.

Access to the Snowbird Hut does not afford easy access if you are unfamiliar with the approach. 

Please note that winter travel to and from the Snowbird Hut requires that you be self sufficient, and able to make your way in the backcountry (very little, if any, cell phone service). Good route finding and good weather are major considerations for this trip. If you have not been to the hut previously, please know that you could have a very difficult time finding it the first time. It is best to partner with someone who has knowledge of the area to assist in locating and accessing the hut. In the summer time, there are cairns along the way to assist with route finding.

GPS Coordinates: 61 51.506” North by 149 12.113” West

The best way to approach is from Archangel Road, starting at the Reed Lakes trailhead. Note, that in the winter, Archangel Road is closed and this adds to your approach time. Begin at the trailhead and hike up the valley to the old cabin on the main valley floor (approximately 1.25 miles). From here, head north up into the Glacier Creek valley, passing the Snowbird Mine. The pass at the head of Glacier Creek drops you on to the Snowbird Glacier.

Be advised that it is a difficult wilderness trek and the hut is hard to locate (although the new hut is more prominent on the ridge line). There have been many competent wilderness trekkers who have been benighted searching for the hut. So if you haven’t been there before it would be smart to not rely on the hut for your overnight survival. In the summer, the hike can take from 2 ½ hours to 4 hours and in winter, five to eight hours. Pollux Aviation is available for helicopter charters into the hut and can be contacted through their website, www.polluxaviation.net or by phone at (907) 746-0673

The Prescription - February 2022

FALL FROM ANCHOR | TETHER CLIPPED INCORRECTLY

Arizona, Cochise Stronghold, Owl Rock

On the afternoon of January 31, 2021, Tim Parker (35) suffered a ground fall from the anchor above Naked Prey (5.12a) in Cochise Stronghold. Parker is a climber with over 15 years of experience. His partner, Darcy Mullen (32), is a climber of over 10 years. They are both mountaineering instructors for an international outdoor education organization.

The pair had decided to finish their day with several pitches on Owl Rock, a pinnacle with several high-quality one-pitch routes. Mullen led Nightstalker (5.9), a classic mixed gear/bolt route on the lower-angle front side of Owl Rock. She built an anchor and belayed Parker to the top.

Mullen rappelled the overhanging backside of the pinnacle, passing over the line of Naked Prey. Parker then rigged the two-bolt anchor with a quad cordelette in order to top-rope Naked Prey, and Mullen lowered him to the base of the climb. He then top-roped the route. Back on top, Parker decided it made more sense to rappel than be lowered due to the location of the anchor bolts.

Quad cordelette rigged at the rappel anchor on Owl Rock, as found the day after the accident. The carabiner on the shelf of the cordelette is still in place and locked.

For an anchor tether, he used a double-length sewn nylon runner girth-hitched around both hard points on his harness. Parker had pre-rigged the tether with two overhand knots, dividing the sling into three segments, to allow for various clip-in points and for extending his rappel device. He used a locking carabiner to clip the tether into the shelf of the cordelette anchor. Unbeknownst to him, the carabiner was not properly clipped to his tether, but this fact would not be revealed for several minutes. Parker did a visual double-check of his connection, asked for slack, and weighted the new system. With nearly full body weight on the tether and the carabiner locked, he told Mullen to take him off belay. After doing so, she walked around the formation to Nightstalker’s base, where she began packing their gear.

Meanwhile, Parker untied from the rope and threaded it through the rappel anchors, then pulled the rope through the rings until both ends were on the ground. Approximately five minutes after taking her partner off belay, Mullen heard a yell and watched Parker fall from the top of the climb. He free-fell approximately 60 feet, then fell another 30 feet down lower-angled rock (70–80°) before hitting the ground.

Mullen found him lying on his back. His head was approximately one foot away from a small boulder. A trained Wilderness First Responder, Mullen stabilized Parker until a nearby climbing party arrived to help. The other climbers dialed 911. The time was 5 p.m. Mullen then directed the other climbers to help take vital signs and stabilize Parker until paramedics arrived at about 5:30 p.m. He was airlifted to Banner University Medical Center in Tucson.

Parker spent about three and a half weeks in the hospital and rehab center, with many broken bones, extensive abrasions, a mild traumatic brain injury, a nearly severed left ear, and nerve damage. After being discharged, Parker spent about two and a half months in a wheelchair and another month on crutches. Though still recovering, he was able to return to working on expedition and climbing courses in November 2021.

ANALYSIS

Reconstruction of the Owl Rock anchor showing how an overhand knot in the tether sling likely jammed on the locking carabiner and held the climber’s weight temporarily. From the climber’s perspective, the sling appeared to be properly clipped.

Due to some memory loss from the accident, the precise cause of the fall—and the five to ten minutes leading up to it—can only be hypothesized. Parker believes he initially clipped the end of his tether into the cordelette but that this connection was too long to give him easy access to the anchor. He must have tried to shorten his tether by clipping the second knotted loop of the sling.

After the accident, his locking carabiner remained clipped to the cordelette and locked shut. The tether was not compromised in any way. Parker assumes that when he tried to clip in, he pushed the knot through the opening of the locking carabiner but did not clip the actual loop of webbing. When he weighted the system, it is believed the knot jammed against the edge of the carabiner just enough to hold his weight. Parker’s rappel device was still clipped to a gear loop on his harness after the fall. Likely the knot in the tether popped through the carabiner when his body weight shifted as he reached for the device.

Parker and Mullen recreated this scenario at home. They noted that while it was difficult to fully weight a knot placed in the carabiner this way, when it was set in a particular spot the knot could hold weight (especially when lodged in a smaller D-shaped locking carabiner). Once loaded, the jammed knot appeared similar to a properly clipped and loaded tether.

Many aspects of this accident line up with themes in other descending accidents. Since this was the last climb of the day, they felt pressure to depart for the two-hour drive back to Tucson. The couple were also about to start a three-week outdoor education course. Such transitions can be stressful and distracting. Parker reflected that the accident’s primary cause was complacency, as he ultimately failed to catch his own mistake.

Other aspects are important as well. Parker had used his tether system many times, but more often for rappelling multi-pitch climbs. Using a new system—or an old system in a new context—raises a yellow flag that should be recognized. Perhaps the better option would have been to rig the system he used more commonly for cleaning bolted anchors on sport climbs. The only reason he used the system in question was because it was already rigged from his previous climb on Nightstalker.

Lastly, Parker was not wearing a helmet. This was a conscious decision. Before this accident, he regularly wore a helmet while leading and/or when concerned about overhead hazards. But since Naked Prey is a short, steep pitch on small pinnacle of rock, rockfall was not an issue. As he was top-roping, there was little to no chance of hitting his head in a fall. Of all of the miracles herein, the greatest might be his avoidance of serious brain damage and/or death. Parker now wears his helmet in all outdoor roped climbing contexts. (Sources: Tim Parker and Darcy Mullen.)

EDITOR’S NOTES

Redundancy: Whether you clip an anchor with the rope, quickdraws, slings, or a commercial PAS, it usually takes little effort or extra gear to create a redundant connection. It’s true that climbers rely on equipment with zero redundancy all the time, including the belay loop on your harness or the rope while you’re climbing, lowering, or rappelling. But there’s seldom a good reason not to double up at an anchor.

Check It! Accidents and near misses with inadequate anchor connections occasionally involve outside forces (rockfall, for example). But most of the time they can be prevented by double- and triple-checking your connection.

Take it from Dougald MacDonald, past editor of ANAC: “One of my scariest moments in four-plus decades of climbing came during a long series of rappels with two partners in the French Alps. Midway through the descent, with all three of us perched on a sloping ice-covered ledge, one of the climbers hissed at me, “Do you know you’re not attached to anything?” In our rush to get down, I had unclipped from the ropes on the previous rappel without ever clipping the anchor. Fortunately, neither a nudge from my partners, a slip on my crampons, nor a gust of wind pushed me off the tiny ledge.”

Personal tether tied with a water knot that came undone at a rappel anchor on the Grand Teton in 2016, causing a tragic accident. NPS Photo

From the Archives: 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 at the anchor connection might have prevented a disastrous accident. 

THE SHARP END: AN UNPLANNED BIVY

In Episode 73 of the Sharp End Podcast, Ashley and Christian Kiefer discuss a cold, uncomfortable, and unexpected night out at 13,000 feet on Mt. Emerson in California’s Sierra Nevada.

The monthly Prescription newsletter is supported by the members of the American Alpine Club. Questions? Suggestions? Write to us at [email protected]. 

Letter to Utah Gov. Cox: Protect the Antiquities Act + Public Lands

Chris Schulte squeezing his way up Airwolf (V6). Photo by AAC member Dawn Kish

February 8, 2022

The Honorable Spencer Cox
Governor
State Capitol
Salt Lake City, Utah 84114

Dear Governor Cox, 

On behalf of our 1,000 members in the state of Utah, and our 25,000 members nationally, the American Alpine Club (AAC) is writing to express our immense concern with your office's hiring of a law firm for the purposes of litigating the protections afforded via national monument designation to both Bears Ears and Grand Staircase-Escalante while simultaneously soliciting the Outdoor Retailer show to return to your state’s capitol. 

The AAC is a century-old, national non-profit organization that supports the climbing and human-powered outdoor recreation communities through education, community gatherings, stewardship, policy, advocacy, and scientific research. Bears Ears and Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monuments are significant not only for our members who enjoy the climbing and other recreational opportunities afforded by these unique landscapes, but also for their extensive cultural and ecological values that have been cherished by Tribes such as the Navajo Nation, Ute Mountain Ute Tribe, Hopi Tribe, Pueblo of Zuni, and Ute Tribe for time immemorial. It is for these reasons we advocated for the restoration of these monuments, following their reduction during the Trump Administration, and celebrated when the Biden-Harris Administration made the profoundly important decision to honor the voices of Indigenous communities, climbers, and conservationists by reinstating their protections.

Our advocacy over the years has been clear - we oppose any action aimed at weakening the efficacy of the Antiquities Act or any other bedrock environmental law that protects our nation’s lands and waters. With more than 100,000 Native American cultural sites, countless scientific and historical objects, and several thousand individual rock climbs that attract climbers from across the globe, we believe that the proper care and management of these objects accurately reflects the size of the monuments as designated by the Biden Administration.

More than that, these protections are in line with the Biden Administration’s America the Beautiful initiative, which aims to tackle the climate crises at home and abroad by conserving 30% of land and water by 2030. Ensuring these landscapes are protected helps our country address not only the climate and extinction crises, but it bolsters recreation-based economies which rely on public lands as the infrastructure for activities like climbing.

While we find it egregious that your office would consider filing a lawsuit against the Federal Government to remove protections from these sacred, wild, and recreation rich landscapes, we do not share this note as a boycott of the State of Utah or the return of the Outdoor Retailer to the Beehive state. Salt Lake City is home to one of the largest climbing communities in the country, and the state to that of some of our nation's most significant and historical climbing areas. Access to the outdoors attracts many of our members to live and work in Utah, and is certainly a reason amongst many in our community for bringing Outdoor Retailer back to the state. 

However, if your office moves forward with its intended litigation to erode protections afforded by the Antiquities Act to monuments in Utah (and potentially across the country), we will urge that the Outdoor Retailer show not return to UT, or boycott the show itself. We stand with our partners at The Conservation Alliance and Outdoor Alliance, who have already asked your office to respect our industry's values and the lands we cherish.

We urge you to take our request seriously and abandon your efforts to remove protections to Bears Ears and Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monuments. Instead, we welcome you to join the outdoor industry in creating a strong and vibrant future for the public lands and outdoor recreation economies across the American West, one that values the perspectives of tribal, outdoor, conservation, and local communities as well as the majority of Utahns and Americans.

Thank you, 

Jamie Logan, AAC Interim-CEO

AAC Policy Committee Members:

Peter Metcalf
Pete Ward
Rob Deconto
Graham Zimmerman
Katie Stahley
Nina Williams

CC:

Taylor Luneau, AAC Policy Manager
Amelia Howe, AAC Advocacy and Government Affairs Manager
The Honorable Deb Haaland, Secretary of the Department of Interior
Herve Sedky, CEO, Emerald
Lise Aangenbrug, Executive Director, Outdoor Industry Association
Adam Cramer, Executive Director, Outdoor Alliance
Shoren Brown, Interim Executive Director, The Conservation Alliance
President Stuart Adams, UT State Senate
Speaker Brad Wilson, UT State House





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A Day of Climbing: Climb United Highlights A Day of Climbing for 5 Climbers Across the Country

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Climb United is about bringing us all together, through the thing that unites us: our passion for climbing. In many ways, fully sharing our passion for climbing requires us to break down the barriers that make it harder for some individuals and communities to access climbing. In other instances, it means highlighting that we are all climbers. But even as we are all climbers, we each experience climbing, and any given climbing day, in our own way.

Below, dive into a day of climbing, with our friends Eddie, Genevive, Mario, Sonya, and Rodel.

A Day in Climbing

CLIMB: Soloing El Cap With Adrien Costa

That’s right. You can now take a deep dive into your favorite American Alpine Club content via your headphones, car stereo, and more. The drive to work—or your favorite hang board routine—just got way more interesting.

Episode 02

CLIMB: Soloing El Cap with Adrien Costa, Catalyst Grant Winner and Adaptive Climber

Adrien Costa never imagined he would be looking up at El Cap, ready to put in his own attempt on the wall, with one leg of flesh and bone and the other made of metal and hydraulics. In this episode, the AAC interviews Adrien about his journey from pro cyclist to daring adaptive climber with a taste for soloing, and digs into the details of his proud rope solo ascent of El Cap funded by an AAC Catalyst grant.

“That’s all anyone really wants is just to be seen for who you they are, and not to be judged by the way they look or the things they struggle with. Cause at the end of the day, we all struggle with things, just some struggles are more visible than others.”
— Adrien Costa

Episodes will typically fall into four categories: Climb; Protect; Educate; Connect.

Climb episodes will be just that—about climbs big and small, and the things they make us realize, in conversation with AAC community members.

Protect episodes will dive into the nuances of policy and advocacy issues that matter most to climbers.

Educate episodes will span the logistics of safety and accidents, as well as the history of climbing and how it can inform our present.

Connect episodes will cover the social side of our climbing community, including important conversations about equity and inclusion that have emerged from our work with the Climb United initiative.

Check back here, the AAC Stories Archive, to find the latest episodes and show notes, and subscribe to the American Alpine Club Podcast at your favorite podcast source: Soundcloud, Apple Podcasts, Spotify, and Google Podcasts.

A Trip To Remember: A Story From the Catalyst Grant

Adapted from the 2021 trip report written by Adrien Costa.

The Catalyst Grant awards funds to individuals and teams who face barriers in accessing the climbing community and identify with an underrepresented group.


I free-wheeled down the tree-lined road, shaking out the legs that had just taken me up and over Tioga Pass from Lee Vining on yet another 5+ hour training ride. Up high, much higher than the tallest pines, loomed the world’s most famous granite wall. And up on El Cap, one could make out tiny dots stubbornly inching their way up, giving massive scale to the wall. At night, the dots turned into a constellation of stars, almost indistinguishable from the night sky. How I longed to be one of those dots, to feel the air and the wind below my feet, to see the trees in the meadow below as little crowns of broccoli, to have no concerns more pressing than scaling this cliff. But I had other things to do with my life. It was only 2014. My dream of becoming a professional road cyclist was turning closer to reality every day. All I had to do was keep pedaling. This improbable, half-insane climbing desire could find a resting place, for now, in the deepest corners of my brain.  

Seven years later, I whipped my truck into the small pullout below the boulder and scree field leading up to El Cap’s shorter, but ridiculously steep, southeast face. The clock reads 4:46 AM. I step out and stand on one leg of bone and flesh, the other of metal and hydraulics. I am no longer a professional road cyclist. I no longer have two legs. Looking up at the dark  outline of El Cap, I wonder whose life I am now living. I sure as hell never expected mine to look like this.  

The universe has this rather bothersome tendency to remind us that the only constant is  change, the only sure thing is that nothing is certain. I learned this the hard way. Us humans fight this, often subconsciously. We try to fight change by controlling everything we can, including our accomplishments and our material possessions. It can quickly become dangerously difficult to parse the imagined from the real, the tangible from the illusion.

I felt that I needed an adventure to shake myself out of the daze of daily life I found myself trapped in. I wanted to see if I could find a sliver of peace or wisdom up there. But I mostly just wanted to simplify my existence. It would be just me, my gear, and this rock. No illusions. Only, as I was about to find out, a whole lot of work.  

Climbing a full-length, Grade VI route on El Capitan, by myself, was my big goal for the second half of my rock climbing season. I see and feel, on a daily basis, how much assumption goes on in the climbing world around ability and disability. I wanted to shatter this paradigm; to prove that, with the right support, anybody can accomplish anything they put their heart and soul into. I wanted this climb to be a call for much-needed inclusion and open-mindedness in our climbing community.  

For me personally, this climb represented a big stepping-stone in my climbing, moving towards more committing, more involved multi-day objectives as I seek to continue developing myself as a versatile climber, comfortable in all media.  

Zodiac, Adrien’s original plan, was too wet.

I finished shuttling my two loads to the base just as the sun was rising. My original plan was to climb Zodiac (C3), a 16-pitch route of moderate, clean aid that has frequently been referred to as a good introduction to “real aid” on El Cap. But a recent storm had soaked the first few pitches of the route, and I didn’t want to start a 4-day odyssey soaking wet. Luckily, I had a topo and gear for the nearby Tangerine Trip (5.9 C3+), which appeared steep enough to be completely dry. Between its consistent overhang, a huge traverse on the fifth pitch, and the fact that this route sees a bit less traffic than Zodiac, it was all starting to feel much more committing, and exciting, than my original plan.

I decided to start the trip via the first pitch of Lost in America, shown as “C3F Bad Fall” in the  topo, which proved to be one of the cruxes of the route. I built my first anchor, cloved off a couple pieces low, and started up the pitch. My last piece of good protection was only 20 feet off the ground was well aware that blowing any piece on this first pitch could result in a ground fall. Very gingerly I inched my way up, breathing a huge sigh of relief upon regaining moderate terrain. I looked at my phone and realized that close to two hours had gone by. The next couple leads took some time as I got back in the rhythm of “real” aid climbing. I got my ropes fixed to the top of pitch 4, and having found a small ledge system below, decided to bivy there. It was a bit demoralizing to be just a couple hundred feet off the ground after a very long  day of work, but I set my alarm for early and tried to enjoy the opportunity to rest.  

The next morning, I broke down the portaledge, sipped my coffee, pooped in a homemade WAG bag, and jugged and hauled to my high point. Here, I finally joined Tangerine Trip proper for the committing 160-foot leftward traverse pitch. The lead was fine, albeit long, but rapping the lead line, and then cleaning the pitch, was as demanding as leading itself. The next couple pitches went well, but still slower than I would’ve liked.  

I forced down some plain ramen for dinner, and was stoked to be able to hang my prosthetic leg with me inside my small portaledge’s fly to charge its battery for the night. This is something I have to keep tabs on during any overnight adventure, and is something I have paid the cost of being complacent with.  

By the end of the following day, I was really starting to feel the stress simmering. A stuck tag line had cost me a lot of time and mental energy earlier in the day. I was also running out of water and knew I needed to top out the next day. But in order to do this, I’d need to fix one more pitch in the dark. The issue was that my headlamp was running out of juice, and my spare batteries were already dead. The stress and pressure was compounding. I had to act.

So I set off, keeping my headlamp as dim as possible, and hoping I wouldn’t get led astray. I tried to climb as efficiently as possible. It turns out that this pitch is also the route’s chossiest. It’s hard to believe there could be any loose rock up there, but I found it in spades as I quested upwards, always upwards, into the dark.  

This was by far the mental crux of the climb. I felt so alone, so vulnerable, so close yet so far from the top, with very little margin for error. I cannot describe the relief that swept through my body once I could faintly make out the line of bolts of the anchor.  

I tucked into my sleeping bag just before midnight, but was stoked on a good day of work, and confident that I’d be standing on top the next day.  

I definitely had not anticipated the nonstop focus that I had to endure for four days straight. It wore me down, but by the last day I found a good rhythm, and started letting my body move on autopilot through the steps. Stack haul line. Stack tag line. Set up lead anchor. Select gear for pitch. Put on GriGri and Microtrax. Climb the pitch. Tag up anchor and haul kit. Fix lead and haul lines. Rap the pitch. Release the bags. Clean the anchor. Jug and clean the pitch. Haul. And repeat. And repeat. And repeat.

While free-climbing on the last couple pitches, I finally let myself have dreams of pizza.  Touching the tree on top was surreal, and walking felt foreign, but more pressing at that moment were water, food, and figuring out how to get my 100+ lbs of gear, sprawled into various growing piles, off the mountain in one load.  

What ensued was hell. With my haulbag on my back, a light backpack on my chest, a trekking pole in one hand and my portaledge in another, I stumbled and yardsaled my way down the East Ledges descent. I broke my prosthetic foot on the descent—under so much weight, the carbon fiber splintered from nothing more than a little trip. I could still walk (or hobble), but I could hear the fibers crackling with every step.  

Four hours after leaving the tree on top, I walked in disbelief into the El Cap picnic area. The Trip was complete. 

Looking back, I realize that aid soloing is a lot like pressing the fast-forward button on life. Every minute action, every decision you make has consequences that are felt, and must be dealt with, without delay. And these consequences range from a minor inconvenience, and time wasted, to time not really existing anymore for you. The constant low grade stress for days on end was exhausting, and yet there was no room for fear, nor any time to sit back. Only action could push my ropes further up the wall. Perhaps this is indeed an apt metaphor for life.  

I have also come to realize that we have no option but to embrace change and make the most of the circumstances we are presented with. Life has taken me in directions I could never have envisioned as that fresh-faced boy riding his bike through the Valley. But by adapting and trusting the process, I was able to become, for a short little while, one of those tiny dots on that big, big wall.  

A Note of Thanks:

To see the AAC come out with the Catalyst Grant, promoting inclusion and diversity in a sport which needs it so desperately, was incredibly meaningful and motivating. I deeply value what results when we invite more diverse folks into our community. When we do, we strengthen and deepen the human connections we share while recreating in the natural world we all love.  

And I can honestly say that the folks at High-Fives Foundation are changing lives. Their work greatly decreases the barriers to adaptive athletes’ participation in our favorite outdoor sports. Having worked in the adaptive sports world, I cannot overstate the importance of the sense of agency, independence, and community that sport can bring an individual, and how these experiences can transform the course of someone’s life. Rock on!

Rewind the Climb: Pete Schoening’s Miracle Belay on K2

by Grey Satterfield

artwork by James Adams

photos from the Dee Molenaar Collection

It happens every day, in every climbing gym across the country: the belay check. It can swell up a wave of anxiety for new climbers or a wave of frustration for more experienced ones, but no matter where you are in your climbing journey, you’ve done it. Everyone has demonstrated their ability to stop a falling climber. But what about stopping two climbers? What about stopping five? And what about stopping five without the convenience of a Gri-Gri, in a raging storm at 8,000 meters, hanging off the side of the second highest mountain in the world?

Pete Schoening checks all those boxes, and his miracle belay during an early attempt of K2 is one of the most famous in all of climbing history. It’s an awesome reminder that in climbing, much like in life, a lot of things change, but a lot of things don’t.

In 1953, during the third American expedition to K2, eight climbers funded by the American Alpine Club built their high camp at nearly 7,700m. The team consisted of Pete Schoening, Charles Houston, Robert Bates, George Bell, Robert Craig, Art Gilkey, Dee Molenaar, and Tony Streather.

On the seventh day of the ascent, climbing without oxygen, Schoening and his partners were within reach of the summit. With the first ascent of the long-sought peak tantalizingly close, the weather turned, trapping the climbers for10 days at nearly 8,000m. The storm raged on, destroying tents and dwindling supplies. Then Gilkey developed thrombophlebitis—a life-threatening condition of blood clots brought on by high altitude. If these clots made it into his lungs, he’d die. The team had no choice but to descend. Without hesitation, they abandoned the summit attempt and put themselves to work getting Gilkey to safety. With an 80mph blizzard compounding their effort, the climbing team bundled their injured comrade in a sleeping bag and a tent and, belayed by Schoening, began to lower him down the perilous walls of rock and ice.

After an exhausting day of descending, they had made it only 300m but were in sight of Camp VII, which was perched on a ledge another 180m further across the icy slope. Craig was the first to reach the site and began building camp. Then the real disaster struck.

As Bell was working his way across the steep face, he slipped and began to rocket down the side of the mountain. Bell was tied to Streather, who was also pulled off his feet and down the slope. The rope between the two climbers then became entangled with those connecting the team of Bates, Houston, and Molenaar, pulling them off in turn. The five climbers, along with the tethered Gilkey, began careening down the near vertical face, rag-dolling down the mountain over 100m and speeding towards the edge: a 2,000m fall to the glacier below.

At the last second—as the weight of six climbers slammed into him— Schoening thrust his ice axe into the snow behind a boulder and, with a hip belay, brought the climbers to a stop. The nylon rope (a relatively new piece of climbing gear at the time) went taught and shrank to half its diameter, but it did not snap. The hickory axe held the strain. Schoening, rope wrapped tightly around his shoulders, had performed what is considered one of the greatest saves in mountaineering history—known now and forever known as “The Belay.”

“When you get into something like mountain climbing,” Schoening said afterwards, “I’m sure you do things automatically. It’s a mechanical func- tion. You do it when necessary without giving it a thought of how or why.”

However, the incident was not without tragedy. As the team recovered from the fall and established a forced bivy, they discovered that Gilkey, bundled in sleeping bag and tent, had vanished. There is speculation that he cut himself free in order to save the lives of his friends above.

Schoening, always humble about the feat, was later awarded the David A. Sowles Memorial Award for his heroics by the American Alpine Club in 1981 as a “mountaineer who has distinguished himself, with unselfish devotion at personal risk or sacrifice of a major objective, in going to the assistance of fellow climbers imperiled in the mountains.”

Fifty-three years later, in 2006, 28 descendants of the surviving team gathered, calling themselves “The Children of ‘The Belay.’” All owed their lives to Schoening—and his ice axe—high on K2. The axe, which some have called the holy grail of mountaineering artifacts, is on permanent display at the American Mountaineering Museum in Golden, Colorado.

Much has changed in the world of climbing over the past 70 years. When Schoening headed up K2 in 1953, assisted-braking belay devices were yet to be invented. The AAC provided no rescue services as a benefit of membership. Nobody owned an InReach or a satellite phone. To survive in the mountains in that era was to rely solely on your team—on the trust that comes with tying in together and the knowledge that a friend is watching your back.

So we would do well to remember Pete Schoening and his belay—to hold the other end of the rope is a serious affair. The next time you go out climbing, don’t forget to give your belayer a high-five and a hug.

Grey Satterfield is the digital marketing manager for the AAC. He has a decade of experience managing climbing gyms and loves to share his passion for climbing with anyone who will listen, be it through writing, photography, or swapping stories around the campfire.

Researching Glacial Recession in Chilean Patagonia: A Story from the AAC Research Grant

Bernardo Fjord and one of the main locations for Scott’s research. Pictured are Bernardo Glacier (lower left), the refugio or cabin (lower center) and Lautaro Volcano, the highest point in Bernard O’Higgins National Park (top center).

Scott Braddock was awarded the AAC’s Research Grant in 2019 to study glacial recession in Patagonia. Specifically, Scott and his team were studying the Southern Patagonian Icefield. With the Southern Patagonian Icefield contributing a disproportionate amount of ice loss relative to the size of the icefield when compared with other mountain glaciers around the world, better understanding the mechanisms for tidewater glacier retreat in this region are critical for projections of future ice loss. Below is a quick summary of his project, and a report on the initial findings. 

Why This Research? Why now?

Like most glaciers around the world, the Southern Patagonian Icefield (SPI) is retreating in the face of rising atmospheric and ocean temperatures. The SPI is particularly susceptible to a changing climate because of its relative proximity to the equator and the fact that it is made up of low-elevation alpine and tidewater glaciers that are highly sensitive to changes in temperature and precipitation. Past studies have shown that ice mass loss from the Southern Patagonian Icefield contributes a large amount of water to global sea level rise, especially relative to the size of the icefield, with rates increasing in recent decades. However, how quickly the SPI is continuing to respond to warmer conditions and the primary mechanisms behind ice mass loss remain important questions to be answered. Scott’s team is attempting to investigate these very questions.

The research boat, the Aguilaf (bottom left), in Bernardo Fjord. In the background is Bernardo Glacier.

The glaciers of the SPI are located in Chile’s largest protected area, Bernard O’Higgins National Park (BONP), which hosts the largest known population of the endangered huemul deer–a species whose health is connected with recently-deglaciated habitat. Under the supervision of Coporacion Nacional Forestral (CONAF), limited in situ research exists in the BONP due to the frequent inclement weather, poor access, and only a handful of CONAF park guards and scientists to protect and manage a large area. Given the results of studies highlighting the accelerated retreat of the SPI in the past several decades, further work is necessary to better constrain estimates of ice loss and glacier stability as well as impacts on biodiversity in BONP.

The Grant Funded Trip & Moving Beyond Covid

AAC Research Grant recipient, Scott Braddock, in front of Calluqueo Glacier, San Lorenzo Mountain, Chile.

In October 2019, supported by research grants from the American Alpine Club, Churchill Foundation, and the Geological Society of America, Scott’s team traveled to Chilean Patagonia to sample ocean water in contact with several glaciers to understand how this interaction may influence rapid retreat of ice in the region. The team sampled water temperature and salinity at the surface and to depths up to 10 m and collected data on surface reflectance, suspended sediment and plankton in front of two tidewater glaciers, Bernardo and Témpano, in Bernard O’Higgins National Park, Chile. Results show a clear boundary between fresh glacial runoff and warm ocean water around 6 m depth close to the terminus of Témpano Glacier. 

Kristin Schild (left) and Scott Braddock (right) conducting CTD sampling in Témpano fjord. Photo by Fernando Iglesias.

In coordination with sampling efforts, Scott’s team set up time-lapse cameras overlooking both glaciers to track iceberg movement and try to observe sediment plumes and surface currents. Additionally, they witnessed one of the earliest-known glacial lake outburst floods (GLOF) in a summer season at Bernardo Glacier. 

In witnessing this event, it is clear that to fully understand this dynamic ice-ocean system, we need longer duration measurements to capture both episodic events (GLOFs) and persistent forcing (ocean warming). To aid in long-term monitoring of ice/ocean interactions and GLOF events in this region, Scott’s team facilitated an agreement between three organizations participating in this project—Coporacion Nacional Forestral (CONAF), Round River Conservation Studies (RRCS), and UMaine Ice/Ocean group to continue this research in the coming years by sharing logistical support, scientific equipment, and data. 

In the context of Covid, the collaborative nature of this project has been crucial to its continuity. The project included team members from three organizations and many backgrounds coming together to work in such a remote, challenging environment. The glaciology portion of this research project was designed and led by Dr. Kristin Schild, University of Maine School of Earth and Climate Sciences. The marine biology part of the project was designed and led by Raúl Pereda, a Marine Biologist with CONAF. Logistics, help with the science, and local knowledge and expertise were provided by Felidor Paredes, CONAF Park Guard and Fernando Iglesias Letelier, Chilean Program Director for RRCS.

Team members Raúl Pereda (left) and Kristin Schild (right) install a time lapse camera in Témpano Fjord to monitor sediment plumes and ice berg movement. Photo by Scott Braddock.

Like most international research, COVID has disrupted the US team’s return to Patagonia for the last two years. However, to keep the project moving forward, Scott’s team will ship equipment to Chile so that team members from CONAF can continue taking measurements of ocean water in front of these tide water glaciers to monitor how ocean properties are influencing glacial retreat of the Southern Patagonian Icefield as well as impacts retreating glaciers might have on the marine biology. 

A Snapshot of the Science Behind Glacial Recession:

The speed at which glaciers of the Southern Patagonian Icefield (SPI) flow could be driven in two distinct ways: from the top-down, or the bottom-up (Figure 2a-e). How fast the glacier moves or flows influences how quickly it retreats and thins over longer time scales.

In the top-down scenario, warm air temperatures melt the glacier ice and, when combined with precipitation, the glaciers are inundated with liquid water (Figure 2a). This water flows under the glacier, lubricating the interface between the glacier and the bedrock, and accelerates the speed at which the glacier moves due to a decrease in friction (Figure 2b).

In the bottom-up scenario, the warm ocean water melts all contacting terminus ice, undercutting the glacier at the waterline and facilitates iceberg calving, or breaking off more icebergs (Figure 2c,d). This removal of terminus ice decreases the amount of ice that the glacier has to move, thereby also leading to increased glacier velocities due to a decrease in back pressure (Figure 2e). 

Figure 2: Schematic illustrating the two end-member scenarios of glacier acceleration, top-down (a,b) and bottom-up (c-e). In top-down acceleration, water from melting ice and precipitation pools in crevasses and topographic lows on the glacier surface (a) until weaknesses in the ice are exploited and water flows between the glacier and glacier bed (b) reducing friction and leading to glacier acceleration. Bottom-up acceleration is initiated at the glacier terminus with warm ocean water melting away the glacier at the waterline, leading to an undercut terminus (c), which initiates subsequent mass loss through calving (d). This decrease in mass reduces the back pressure (e) leading to glacier acceleration.

While two distinct scenarios are presented above, a combination of mechanisms most often controls glacier acceleration. For example, recent studies in Greenland have shown that ocean warming has been the controlling mechanism in glacier instability while in Svalbard both ocean and air temperatures appear to balance each other in driving glacier change.

However, how quickly the Southern Patagonian Icefield is responding to warmer conditions and the primary mechanisms behind ice mass loss remain important questions to be addressed, that Scott’s project will hopefully illuminate over time.

“The research grant awarded by the American Alpine Club and other organizations made it possible for our team to collect preliminary data, create working relationships with CONAF and RRCS to ensure we are working alongside Chilean colleagues, and for us to apply for additional grants that will ensure this work continues for many years. We will be excited to share future results and info in the coming years as we finally are able to return to Chile and continue this important science in a part of the world that is so challenging to reach and conduct research. ”
— Scott Braddock

From Ocean to Peak: A Story from the Live Your Dream Grant

Sinclair is a dramatic, 6,800-ft granite peak rising above the Lynn Canal, across the water from Haines, AK. Reaching the top involves kayaking across the canal, landing on the beach by Yaldagalga Creek, bushwhacking to the back of the valley, and scrambling to the ridge where the technical climbing begins.

In this exhibit, Ceri Godinez shares the story of her ascent of Sinclair through the Live Your Dream Grant. The epic pictures will have you begging to climb it yourself.

From Ocean To Peak

The Live Your Dream Grant is powered by The North Face.