Julia\
Kate, Mikey, Micah, and I are all packed up. Our gear is on the tarmac here at Whitesaddle Air. All we need is a chopper to arrive to whisk us away to the mountains for the next two weeks. We’ll be camping beneath some classic giants: Combatant, Tiedeman, and Asperity. Hopefully, with some luck and determination, the climbing will provide just the right mix of excitement and adventure. Yahoo!
The Skillet Glacier on Mount Moran is a coveted ski descent. It is hard to get to in the winter, yet it is a 6000 foot continuous descent beginning in a tight couloir almost at the summit of Mount Moran (12,605′). This defines aesthetics.
This Spring, Dan and I realized we would both be spending the summer in Jackson while working in Alaska for Alaska Mountaineering School. We also concurrently noted that there was lots and lots and lots of snow falling in the Tetons this Spring. So, naturally we figured it might be a perfect opportunity for a summertime Skillet descent. Somehow, despite working for the dark side (Exum), he still was able to get his act together to follow through with all the bar talk.
Alas, we found ourselves in a canoe- heading to Moran. We talked about getting up early. But thats about as far as we got with that plan. However, by six am we were rolling. We enjoyed a perfect 1300 foot run down from the Thumb to the base of the Skillet. The good skiing ended there. After slogging in the summer sun for another 4000+ feet, conditions were sloppy to say the least. It would have been the perfect opportunity for a canoe descent. Nonetheless, we had fun. It was a silly, sunny time until Dan got caught in a slough and lost a ski. After twenty minutes of probing the debris, he finally spotted it in a basin 500 feet below. Whew. That was close. We were psyched to be able to ski down to below 8000′ on a little channel of snow before having to pack the boots and skis for the final walk down to the boat. Upon arriving at the boat, we were greeted by some friendly fisherman who were happy to celebrate with us. Aaaaaah summer.
A good burger at Billy’s did the trick before I had to start packing for a 5 am start to guide Disappointment Peak the next day. They say if you never slow down, you’ll never grow old. I figure I’ll stay 16 forever. 
Women’s Rock Weekend was a hit. Hosted by International Mountain Climbing School, this event attracted women from all over to climb on North Conway’s granite cliffs. I showed up a bit early with Kirsten Kremer, a friend who was another guest guide for the event. We were lucky to get a few pitches in right away the afternoon we arrived. It was the next day, however, that we learned that its not all roses and peaches in North Conway. We had been for-warned about the bugs- we wore long pants in anticipation, but we did not suspect them to be quite so extreme. Noseeums are evil! It all starts out great. After a bit of getting our bearings, we head up the Prow of Cathedral. About half way up the route, however, it becomes clear that we have entered a battlefield. Apparently, one bites and draws blood. The scent of blood seems to call in every other noseeum for miles around until you have a layer of them feeding off of your poor, unsuspecting self. At the top, we discussed calling it a day, but on the way down, we found too many good cracks that we could not pass up. So alas, we lost the war and returned covered in big red welts.
The wounds turned out to be very convincing tools when explaining to our groups on Saturday morning that bug spray is essential. Luckily, the rain did not strike until everyone got to the top of at least one climb on Saturday. Then it came in hard turning our path into a river.
Saturday night turned out to be a rad party. The beer and wine were flowing and Kremer put on a slideshow that made us all want to set everything on fire. Sunday turned out to be another fine day despite the threat of more rain- we all got just enough climbing in and tons of bonding. Women who had never climbed before were tying there own knots and sending. Some women jugged there first pitch, others learned how to rescue themselves in the event of an accident. Nights were filled with wine and laughter. I wish it lasted a week.
There are a few things that keep me coming back to Alaska- but the one that I could not do without is the smell of sweet greenery when flying off a glacier after a couple weeks or more. As you slowly peel off hats and gloves and down jackets, your senses become overwhelmed by the smells of living earth. And they smell so much better than dirty socks! Necessarily though, submitting to dirty socks and the land of snow is a prerequisite. So, I was lucky to find some work in Talkeetna after skiing in Valdez for three weeks.
We managed to all crawl on top of the tiny block of a summit and revel in the fabulous views of the
Training, training, training: we’re all gathered here at L&L’s B&B getting prepped for our AMGA Ski Mountaineering Guides Course/ Aspirant Exam. Isn’t that a mouthful. But, somehow between gathering all of our weather data websites and ironing out our TOPO! programs, we got some fun skiing in yesterday. The North Face of Dimond Peak has everything a ski mountaineer could wish for: big crevasses, a bergshrund problem, 40-50 degree hard slabs, and not an ounce of powder.
We scraped our way down making hop turns with wide smiles. The challenges stimulated much debate as to weather we would actually take clients on such a mission. Probably not. Maybe if there was some powder. Aaaah, powder- we’re keeping our fingers crossed!
Photos courtesy of Ben Mitchell.
Burrrr! My birthday present from the weather gods: -18.5 degrees Celsius. Despite the broken ski and a day’s delay, we got out there and tested our theories on winter camping. The results are in: it is still painful and very cold. And you need twice as much fuel- especially with a jetboil (ooops!). But the skiing was fantastic- with some blue sky and some huge, wet, coastal snowflakes.
It was all set. I had printed my itinerary, healed from my last round of shots, and done plenty of pull-ups. I was about to embark on a lifelong dream to travel and climb in Africa when I received this email from my brother:
“Hi Jule, I just wanted to make sure you know about
He forwarded this information to the rest of my family, so there were many more statistics swimming in my head upon arrival at the
Q finally arrived- only two and a half hours late. It turns out that Majka e-mailed details about how to get a cab to where she was staying just after I went to bed the night before leaving the country. So with great relief, I settled into the backseat of the cab with Q on our way to our hosts’ abode.
Our hosts, a lovely local climbing couple with baby, Luca, opened their house for us. Sleepily, I wondered at the fortifications we had to cross to enter and what it would be like to get used to iron gates and security codes.
I always wanted to go to Africa- WILD
After spending time at a couple kloofs in
A few famous South African climbers like Ed February, Andy DeKlerk, and Clinton Martinego have put up countless first ascents, but there are still many to pick. We went to an area called Blyde where we put up three first ascents and one first free ascent in a period of four days. We did, however, pay the South African toll: hot sun, rashes, liquid poo, and endless bushwacking. Our very first route turned out to be a perfect first ascent. We walked by a steep crack wondering if it was wide enough to climb. We kept going towards our original destination: a potential first free ascent that was around the corner. The hot sun and violent bush wacking melted our resolve, however, and we found ourselves back below the shaded crack. I decided to check it out. Upon arriving at the base, it looked perfect: steep with just enough wider pods to get locker hand jams. Majka and Q joined me for the experiment. The first moves were tricky, the crack was overhanging and too sharp for the finger jams that were required. Eventually, I found a way by stemming into it from the left. The uneven crack made it hard to trust the cams, yet it was too steep to hang out and fiddle with gear. Two-thirds of the way up, I was breathing hard and sweating. The glory of the first ascent is that you do not know what the next move will bring- will you find an impossible crux, or will you be able to keep going? I had gotten this far, I thought, I have to finish. So I pulled through a super-tight hand jam followed by a sharp fist jam. Finally, I stood on top, unable to speak due to the involuntary heavy breathing. I looked down at my hands, they were bleeding.
Then Majka sent it with similar drama. I ended up with harsh infections in my hands after rubbing my cuts with some wild aloe plant, but hey, it was worth it. Plus, now I now that the wild variety is different from my mom’s kind.
The climbing in
We spent our last weekend with Tristan. This South African is best described by negatives. He does not eat, does not sleep, and does not drink water or wine. I decided a closer look was warranted- he must eat sometime. I saw him all over the magazines, and he had an inspiring presence in the South African climbing video. He was born without a fully developed right arm or hand, yet you would never know it by the way he climbs. He blames his excellent footwork for his climbing prowess, yet I must credit his mighty will. Never tell this man he cannot do something. (Or tell him and ensure that it will be done.) He showed us the caves of Tafelburg where we set up camp for our last two days. My highlight was the first female ascent of a heady 23R route of which Tristan had boldly done the third ascent. I still cannot fathom trying to do it without the ability to crimp with my right hand. I, after working the moves and the gear, got on lead and still faltered under the high consequences. Finally after many minutes had ticked by and my shaking was about to end in testing the rare and tiny pieces of protection, something deep within launched me towards the jug. I sent. It was a great finale to an amazing climbing adventure in
I do not think
The specific moves of “Danger Mouse” will be forgotten. The cold belays on “Celestial Journey” will fade, but the incredible people and kindness will remain. Despite the trauma of the people of
For more photos go to http://jamesqmartin.com.
One of the ladies on my women’s ice clinic told me about “type 2 fun.” I haven’t stopped using it since. We were swinging our tools while talking about all the difficulties associated with ice climbing: cold hands and toes, screaming barfies, bloody faces, when she mentioned this paradigm. Rock climbing and skiing tend to be type 1 fun. Not always. But, if you are having fun while in the act, then it is type 1. Not just “this is so painful its great” type fun- but real fun where you could bust out a laugh at any time. Ice climbing, alpine climbing, and I suspect crab fishing all fall under the category of type 2 fun. Actually, crab fishing might not be fun at all. Type 2 is where you are gripped all day, but by the time you get to the bar, it was the most fun you’ve ever had. Thanks Emily- now I can laugh every time I find myself alpine climbing in a squall- its fun afterall!
Although, we broke the type two barrier during this festival. And not just when drinking beer and watching slide shows. The ice was plastic and accepting of our tools, the people were all smiles, and the weather was warm. The closest I got to type two was while I was hammering off pull-ups during the Monster contest.
