Leader Fall

Ice climbing, Pine Creek Falls, it's beautiful but scary. The upper falls is a gaping maw with frozen icicles for fangs. Ice cold water churns and spews. I lead that pitch, sidestepping gingerly in the soft snow-covered ice, careful not to break through.

The ice screws I've inserted form an "S" pattern from me crossing and recrossing the waterfall, and the friction from the carabiners makes pulling the rope difficult. The final stretch is straight up along the left-hand side of the falls. My left foot slips, but I recover.

Near the top, the ice is so thin I can see clearly to the water rushing underneath. It couldn't be more than an inch thick. To break through could spell disaster — it's bad enough to fall, but to fall into a waterfall and dangle under an ice-cold shower could be really unpleasant. I steer towards the far left of the ice, right against the rock wall, hoping for the best. My choices for pick placement are limited, but I'm nearly at the top. Just a couple more picks, a couple more steps.

Left pick. Fine. Right pick. Not so fine. Is it good enough? I raise a foot to test the balance, and feel myself leaning back, the picks sliding...

Oh, shit, I think. Here I go.

And away I went.

I must have fallen about 20 feet. It really wasn't bad at all — I stopped about an inch or two above the snowy ledge. I straightened out, stood up on the ledge, and waved to Craig that I was okay. Really, my first thought was that it was kind of funny. Then I noticed my hands and legs shaking from the adrenaline.

I belayed Craig up to the ledge, and he finished off the final section of the falls. He was a little sketched out by the water flowing right underneath, too, and used the rock wall to support him up the edge of the ice. Picks, crampons, even gloved hands right on the rock. I followed right behind him. I knew it was climbable. It was just harder than the climbs we had done in the past, and a lot scarier, but totally doable. Falling is part of the sport — that's why there's ropes and protection.

I think I'm learning.




Craig Hall on Pine Creek Falls

Ice Climbing in Hyalite Canyon

(I'm in yellow helmet, Craig's in white helmet)

While shimmying up a frozen waterfall might not be everyone’s idea of a day well spent, for my housemate Craig and I it’s been a longtime goal. Well, a month-and-a-half long goal, anyway.

Craig and I started immersing ourselves into rock climbing in October, and as winter’s chill descends on Montana, ice climbing is the next logical step. We both see it as step in the larger process of becoming proficient all-around mountaineers, in which we’re able to take on any peak. Craig outlined goals for the next year and a half that include increasingly harder routes in the Tetons, the Gallatins, and the Absarokas.

So we better figure this stuff out! On Sunday we participated in Barrel Mountaineering’s Ice Festival, in which we were given top-quality gear and taught by world-class ice climbers, including Bozeman’s Jack Tackle. It was kind of a trial by fire for us; we had both dabbled in ice climbing a little bit, but really are beginners. The guys set up top-ropes and sent us up some pretty crazy stuff right off the bat, trying to teach us good technique… which was great, but what we really needed were the fundamentals. I mean, we were dangling 50 feet above the ground, with the only things holding us up being the tips of two metal picks and the front-points of our crampons. That takes a little getting used to!

We got better as the day went on, and as the guides tossed the ropes down we knew we wanted more. So Craig and I ventured back out to Hyalite today to get back on the ice. This time we weren’t carrying brand new, state-of-the-art demo gear; just our own boots and our own mountaineering crampons and Craig’s two old-school, straight shaft ice climbing picks, which we agreed to trade off. Plus, we had to figure out how to anchor the top-rope on our own — something we’d been studying in books and magazines, but hadn’t had much hands-on practice with. Plus, Craig had to get back to a music rehearsal at one, so we didn’t have much time.

But, boy, did we make the most of it. We left the house at about 7:15 a.m., and of course there was the obligatory stop at the bagel shop… by the time we got all the way down Hyalite, dropped the gear off at the Greensleeves ice route — next to Genesis I — hiked up to the top to set up the anchor, and rappelled down to the foot of the climb, it was 10:30. Wow! Some folks like sports in which they just have to lace up a pair of shoes and go. Climbing, as a sport, is 80 percent lacing up of shoes and 20 percent actually on the rock.

Once we got going there was no stopping us. Greensleeves is a relatively easy climb, starting off steep and then easing out to a lower angle. Short and sweet, which was perfect for getting our fundamentals down. We were both a little concerned about our equipment, but everything worked great, including my strap-on crampons and Craig’s ice tools. In fact, we seemed to have better luck swinging Craig’s heavy tools than the lighter-weight ones we were lent on Sunday — one nice solid swing was all it took to get good purchase. And I felt more at ease hanging off the tips of my crampons.

We each took three turns on the ice, slightly varying the route each time. The last one took me right over the main stream of the cold, dribbling water; it was warmer today, and the water sprayed over my ski pants as I climbed.

Back when I worked in the Tetons I had done a lot of mountaineering, but I had stopped for a while. A friend had slid on the soft snow of Diappointment Peak’s Spoon Couloir, and all I could do was watch helplessly as she flew past, unable to stop herself. Miraculously, she survived with only scrapes and a concussion, but it made me overly cautious in my outdoor adventures. Now, climbing with Craig, using ropes, being careful about our protection, I feel little I’m getting back into it at last.