More climbing: The Tetons

Okay, let me just get this out of the way: We borrowed a canoe, we were all psyched to use it, but then I called the rangers and they said Jackson Lake was still frozen. So we didn't bring the canoe. Instead, we went through the annoying minutiae that comes with every backpacking trip, deciding what to take and what too big and what's too heavy and what's absolutely essential and what we should leave home (poor Snoopy!), because we'd being hiking and bushwhacking to the base of Mount Moran.

But when we got there, it turned out the lake wasn't frozen at all. But now we didn't have the canoe. Plus, we learned there was still a lot of snow of the trail, and we'd be postholing the whole way to the foot of the Skillet Glacier. No fun! Then Craig looked at the mountain and decided he didn't like the way the snow looked, so we decided to do something else instead.

And maybe it was just bad vibes. We went a little ways up Cascade Canyon to check out Baxter's Pinnacle, which we set aside for the following day, and to do a little free-form rock climbing on some random cliffs on the canyon's north side. We saw a helicopter overhead - Craig thought it was some kind of scenic flight, but I told him, no, that sort of thing didn't go on in the Tetons. If you see a helicopter in the Tetons, it's always bad, and you can always read about it in the paper the next day. Later, when I was climbing, Craig saw the chopper fly by again, this time dangling something that looked like a body bags.



But we didn't worry about that. We did our fun little thing on the cliff, only mildly annoying each other when we were choosing a descent method (Craig thought it looked like rain and was in a hurry all of a sudden).



Instead of backpacking into the base of the Skillet Glacier on Mount Moran, we car camped at Spalding Bay on Jackson Lake. Well, almost. Snow blocked the final 500 or so feet, so we had to carry the stuff the rest of the way. What a beautiful night! Full moon, moon shadows, strange critters howling in the distance, colder than heck, the whole enchilada.



The next day: Baxter's Pinnacle. This was a five-pitch climb that I understood to be rated 5.6 - easy, same as Skyline Buttress in the Gallatin Canyon (below). Well, the first pitch, which Craig led, was super easy. The second pitch, which I led, was not so easy - seemingly at least 5.7. Craig, who got stuck carrying the pack with our shoes and water, had a short fall right before the belay point. But no biggie - it was a beautiful day, and we were ready for more.

Craig led the next pitch, which was a beautiful 5.6 chimney problem; after that it was easy-breezy to the massive and sttep summit pinnacle. Oh, and it rained. Pretty hard, too, but we decided to wait it out. Sure enough, the sun came out bright as ever, revealing not only a rainbow below us, but a bald eagle soaring right above the final pinnacle.

About that pinnacle: We didn't know how to get up it. The climb was supposed to be a 5.6, right? Well, there was nothing on that block of rock that looked remotely 5.6-ish. We discovered a little traverse that led to the west and north sides of the rock, so we decided to check it out... but we couldn't get up those sides, either. Oh, we tried, with Craig doing a noble job on the northwest corner. But no cigar. It was raining again, so we decided to rappel down to the base.



Later we learned that the summit block actually starts out as a 5.9, before turning back into a 5.6. The route Craig tried was a 5.8. Oh, well. Do we really need to carry the big, fat "Climber's Guide to the Teton Range" with us everywhere we go? Maybe so. I had copied down some notes from it, but I failed to discern's the climb's subtleties. We considered ourselves triumphant anyway. What the hell.



Oh, about the chopper? When we got to Jackson, we read the front-page headline: Two climbers killed on Grand Teton. We were witnessing the body recovery. They were local guys from Kelly. It happens a couple times every summer in the Tetons. I guess this year's just gotten off to an early start.

Climbing: Skyline Buttress

I figured I ought to write about a recent outing just to show you that not all my adventures end up in disaster. Last week Craig and I made an attempt to climb Skyline Buttress, a rock climb in Gallatin Canyon south of Bozeman.

The climb is rated 5.6 - not very hard, but we're still novices and this was our first major multi-pitch climb. Just getting to the base of the climb was a bit of an adventure, especially since Craig called the ol' "You go that way, I'll go this way" move, splitting us up... and then decided he'd go my way, but I was looking for him above me...

Ah, well. We made it to the base of the climb eventually.

And I don't really have much in the way of trauma and drama to report (if you want that, see below). The day was beautiful, the climbing was easy, and neither of us fell. We placed protection the way it's supposed to be placed, we learned a few things about setting directionals (using slings so the rope stays straight) and tying into anchors from others on the rock, and we watched people doing way crazier things than what we were doing. The climb was great fun, especially the chimney section and the tunnel section, which required us to pop out of a small hole in the top of the rock. We decided a better name for the climb would be "Santa's Revenge."

I suppose the end got a little spooky, when it started to sprinkle a little and I climbed a pinnacle that I decided really wasn't part of the climb. I ended up downclimbing it, with its wobbly rock, in the rain.

But other than that all was well. We made it back to our packs for sandwiches and pudding, and watched the climbers on Sparerib. Possible future climb? We'll see.

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.