Experience

"To have a great adventure, and survive, requires good judgment. Good judgment comes from experience. Experience, of course, is the result of poor judgment."
-Geoff Tabin

See this frozen waterfall? Doesn't it look nice? That's Palisades Falls in the Hyalite Canyon area south of Bozeman. Craig and I started to climb it about two weeks ago, when this picture was taken, but it had been really warm and we didn't like the looks of the ice up high, so we called it good at halfway and went home.

On Saturday we went back out; it had been a lot colder, and the falls looked a lot fatter, so we figured we were good. Craig led the first pitch, then, since there wasn't a good belay spot on the ice, I lowered him and and started from the bottom. I placed an ice screw about ten feet above his highest one, and continued climbing... but the ice was getting worse. I placed an ice screw but sensed that the ice wasn't very solid there. I told Craig I'd place another one right away.

The thing is, the ice just kept getting worse. Plus, I was getting more and more tired, and it was very hard to balance myself precariously on the toes of my crampons, hanging on with one ice tool while trying to insert a stubborn screw with my one free hand. And there wasn't a good place to put it, so I just kept going up - it's much easier to go up than down.

My pick placements got sloppier. At one point I had them hooked onto little more than snow, but my arms were so tired I couldn't fathom whacking them into something more solid. And there wasn't much that was more solid - what there was was brittle, and would send dinner plates of ice cascading below. So I balanced precariously, just resting, debating my next move, philosophizing about mortality... and I moved my left pick a little bit. Just a teensy bit, but it was enough to shift my balance, and I knew I was going to fall.

"Fall.....!" That's all I managed to get out of my mouth. I was near the top of that picture.

I was ten feet over that last, insufficient screw. It came out. I remember thinking, as I flew head first through the air, that it would be nice to stop falling. At any time, really.

I must have fallen about 40 feet, but the next screw held and eventually the rope did what it was supposed to do. It stopped me before I reached the ground, and as Craig lowered me to the ice I wondered why my glasses were covered in blood. I had the wind knocked out of me, but I had remained conscious - or at least I thought I had. But I had a deep gash on my forehead, and blood was spurting out of my nose.

I sat there, trying to stop the bleeding, Craig helping me. I didn't feel all that hurt, but I was definitely shaken up. Craig started collecting the stuff; fortunately I had no trouble standing up and walking.

We drove to Urgent Care in Bozeman; along with needing five stitches on my forehead and one on my nose, I had also broken my nose - not displaced, just a crack. What's odd is that I don't remember hitting the ice. Later, Craig guessed that when I was flying through the air upside down, one of the razor-sharp ice screws slinged around my neck had reached up and sliced me.

So, really, I'm okay. It didn't hurt at all. I think right now my back hurts more than anything, from getting torqued by the rope when it finally stopped me.

It just makes me wonder how lucky I am. There's a nice welt on my helmet from something. That could have been my head. And though my glasses don't seem to have received a scratch, I have to wonder if they saved me from being blinded.

So I sit here and wonder what it all means. Why do I climb? More to the point - why do I climb ice? It's an unknown quantity. Unlike rock, it changes. It's more risky.

Former climber and Sierra Club president David Brower once wrote, "It is not variety that is the spice of life. Variety is the meat and potatoes. Risk is the spice of life." That's all well and good, but how much risk does one person need?

Of course, compared to other mountaineers, this is nothing. A little broken nose and some stitches? It's enough to remind me that I enjoy being here, that's for sure. Is it enough to keep me off the ice? I kind of doubt it. My mom asked me to take a little break, and I assured her that that would not be a problem. But in a month or so...

I don't know what draws us to such things. It makes little sense, but the allure is strong.

Plus, now that I've got some experience, I should have good judgment, too. Right?