Outdoor Research Verticulture » Alpine & Ice http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com Just another WordPress weblog Wed, 01 Sep 2010 20:15:11 +0000 http://wordpress.org/?v=2.9.2 en hourly 1 Easier Said Than Done http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/08/4250/ http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/08/4250/#comments Wed, 18 Aug 2010 17:15:04 +0000 Tim Keenan http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/?p=4250

The approach

I have no experience in alpine rock climbing. I’ve done plenty of multi-pitching at the Gunks and Cathedral, but not very much “adventure climbing.” The little experience I do have with “adventure climbing” has been one successful trip to the Dacks in the summer to climb Wallface. And even that was a wild success because my partner and I were able to find Wallface on our first attempt (much harder than it sounds) and managed to climb our route (The Diagonal) with only a photo topo. So going to the Tetons seemed like a really good idea, a nice starting place for a real alpine learning experience.

Whoops. Let me just start by saying that if you don’t plan on having an epic, you will may end up having one. And if you do plan on having an epic, you will probably get what you asked for. Looking back, I have no idea why I told my boss that I was excited to have an epic, even a small one, but I did. And I certainly got what I asked for.

The Grand Teton is the second highest peak in Wyoming, and the tallest in the Teton range, rising to 13,775 ft (4,199 m). While it certainly pales in comparison to true mountaineering peaks such as Denali or Rainier, it is certainly one of the most majestic peaks dominating the Wyoming skyline, and contains more classic routes (3) than any other peak in North America according to Fifty Classic Climbs of North America. Summer ascents are frequent and regular via the Owen-Spalding route, first climbed in 1898. We chose to do the Upper Exum ridge, which was first done by Glenn Exum, solo, in 1931.

As soon as you drive north out of Jackson, its there, staring down at you from almost every angle. The Grand is a captivating peak that commands respect. Upon getting permits, doing a “warm up” route (Baxter’s Pinnacale, 5.9), and packing all the essential gear, my partner, Drew, and a friend, Stephen, piled into our rental car to head to the trail head. Six hours, seven miles, and nearly a mile of vertical gain later, we were settling in to the Lower Saddle – a windy, barren homestead for climbers and guides heading up the Grand.

Sunrise on the Tetons

After waiting out two storms – one of which contained hail for 30 minutes – we made some quick freeze dried dinner and watched the setting sun cast brilliant beams of orange luminance upon our route up the Grand. From what we could make out, it seemed a relatively straight forward route from the ground. Simply hike into the left gully, go halfway up, come back down and traverse a second gully to the Wall St. ledge and then climb the rad ridge to the top.

WAY easier said than done.

The next morning at 4am, after a sleepless night in the howling winds, we began the hike up into the first gully, ahead of the guided parties. We were sure we were making good time. So certain in fact, that we missed the decent into the second gully, and had to back track past some of the guided parties to get to the right gully. By the time we had reached the end of the Wall St. ledge, the sun was just starting to peak out, and we could turn off our headlamps. It was about 5:45am when we reached the base of the ridge at the end of Wall St. Now that the sun was out, we could see the 1,500ft of climbing we had to do in front of us, as well as the churning storm sitting in Idaho. We pressed on, the day still being so early and us convinced that the forecast for the day, 10% chance of scattered showers, would hold.

Whiteout

We climbed quickly and made good progress despite some difficulties. Route finding proved to be tricky as it was not nearly as much of a “ridge” as it was a gully on the side of a ridge. After nearly 2 hrs of climbing, we started to collectively get scared. I had just lead a 60m 5.7 pitch with 4 pieces of pro (this pitch is not in the description, but in the variations described for the route as we later came to find out), we had not eaten much because we were trying to push faster to the top, and now that storm that was hanging out in Idaho was hanging out with us. So roughly 13,000ft up on my first alpine climb, only 700ft from the summit, I was stuck with my two partners in a total white out. Everything was becoming covered in snow and ice. We couldn’t see forward to the summit, and looking backwards to where we came from was almost as difficult. This, I thought to myself, is not a good place to be. Especially without gloves. So thus begins my first mountain epic.

We collectively decided that it would be better to descend as quickly and slowly as possible. There was no shelter up there. No rocks to hide under. No secret stashes of gloves. No hidden warming tents. Just us, some Gu Blocks, and our wet and starting to freeze ropes. We proceeded to gingerly descend the route I had painstakingly lead just minutes before.

The Author

Every rappel was an exercise in patience and luck. Every Dyneema runner slung block constriction was a feeble attempt to construct something “solid” to descend from. Each rope pull was a roll of the dice, hoping we didn’t get the snake eyes of a stuck rope. And each foot we lowered was a foot closer to having coffee and solid ground to stand on. For nearly 2 hours we repeated this process over and over. And all the while, the weather kept getting better and better. By the time we reached the rappel that took us down to the base of the Wall St. ledge, the weather had changed to brilliant blue clear skies. Knowing that the upper section of the route was still covered in ice, none of us even considered climbing back to our high point.

We safely made it back to the Lower Saddle at around 10:45am, where we promptly made instant coffee and took a nap. 4 hours later, and the same 7 miles out that we came in, we were back to our car, shedding our packs and the weight of the epic that we had just all been witness to. Only then to drive all the way back to SLC to catch a flight back to New York the next day.

Was it worth it? Definitely. Did I learn a lot? Definitely. Would I do it again? Definitely. Will I ever deliberately ask for an epic before I go on a trip again? Most definitely not.

]]> http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/08/4250/feed/ 0 Rigging Up for Mountaineering http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/08/rigging-up-for-mountaineering/ http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/08/rigging-up-for-mountaineering/#comments Tue, 17 Aug 2010 19:24:12 +0000 Freddy Grossniklaus http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/?p=4232 Freddy Grossniklaus takes us through the gear that comes along on a normal mountaineering trip. Freddy is a UIAGM/IFMGA Swiss certified mountain guide and ski instructor that has been working with Outdoor Research for the past three years. Take a look at his advice!

]]> http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/08/rigging-up-for-mountaineering/feed/ 0 Packing for an Overnight Alpine Ascent http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/08/packing-for-an-overnight-alpine-ascent/ http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/08/packing-for-an-overnight-alpine-ascent/#comments Tue, 17 Aug 2010 19:03:45 +0000 Martin Volken http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/?p=4220 Martin Volken – an IFMGA Guide and owner of ProGuiding Service of North Bend, Oregon – takes time before a recent trip to describe what exactly should go into a pack for an overnight alpine ascent.  Martin reviews all the essential gear – his ‘house’ equipment, his personal equipment, the technical equipment, and the safety gear – and then shows us how it all easily fits into his pack.

]]> http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/08/packing-for-an-overnight-alpine-ascent/feed/ 0 Eight Hundred and Eighty Eight Hours http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/07/eight-hundred-and-eighty-eight-hours/ http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/07/eight-hundred-and-eighty-eight-hours/#comments Thu, 22 Jul 2010 22:08:44 +0000 Bryan Gillmore http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/?p=3877

Sublime mixed climbing

Hurry up and wait. I think we might have set a record in our travels to Patagonia. From Denver International Airport it was a short 25 hours before we sat down and enjoyed our first Hamberguesa of the trip at El Rancho Grande. Three and a half weeks later, our speed record was our only achievement, period. I guess it’s good to get a fast start! I only had 39 days – minus two for travel- so I had 37 days in El Chaltén. Plenty of time, I thought, to get up a few big routes. In the end I spent about 24 hours alpine climbing. So, I spent 888 hours doing nothing so I could spend 24 hours doing what I love most.

Honestly, it doesn’t make sense, I spent thousands of dollars to basically get weak and drink Argentine wine. I’m sure I could have pulled that off at home… probably not – I would have climbed a lot more. Plus, I could have spent the evenings at home with my wife and daughter, instead of endlessly spraying about the weather with a bunch of smelly gringos. As I harshly learned, this is alpine climbing reality. You sit, and sit, and sit. Then you run, run, run. Only to get fooled and have to descend and wait again. Finally, if you are lucky, everything aligns and the sun emerges, dries the cracks, clears the faces and you pray you’ve put everything in place and you SEND!

The Meteogram, aka the weather, is the hottest topic of conversation in Chaltén. If you don’t spend at least 3 hours each day looking at and discussing the current version then you aren’t really a climber. And each day the Meteogram looked the same, crappy for the next three days with high winds and precipitation, and on day 4 and 5, things looks way better, low wind values and no precip what so ever. But it never moves any closer, every day you’d look and every day you’d see crappy for the next three days with high winds and precipitation, and on day 4 and 5, things looks way better, low wind values and no precip whatsoever. It was like “Groundhog Day”. It’s called the window (la ventana in español), and over coffee you’d hear it, then at the evenings asado or at the cervesaria late night. “Did you see the window?” “In four days, it’s looking good”. It was a joke, the weather was never going to get good, or at least it seemed that way.

Climbing Aguja Mermoz with Fitz Roy looming. Photo: Zack Smith

Being raised in New Hampshire, I have good Puritan values. Basically, that means I learned early to never let anybody know what you’re thinking. I was depressed, thinking I had spent all of this money, and coordinated this chunk of time away from my wife and four year old daughter for nothing. Just an expensive camping trip, oh, and I injured myself bouldering. Great, just GREAT!

Just as I thought it couldn’t get any worse, I was right. With just seven days left in our trip the weather felt like giving us a chance. We were ready and so was everyone else in the region, climbers poured into the streets like Bud Light at a frat party… Everyone was running for the hills. Unfortunately, the big rock routes were out of the question still, as the cracks and ledges were choked with snow and ice. Because of this we headed to the west side of Fitz Roy for a route that usually melts out in mid December, just as it did this year. But, with all the snow that had been piling up over the last two months we knew the Supercanaleta would be in good nick. And we were right.

I am not exaggerating when I say our climb “started” with 3,000′ of ice climbing. If all goes according to plan you do the “start” in the dark. Otherwise it’d be too scary to solo, not because of the difficulty, but the sheer size. Who ever said “size doesn’t matter” never climbed a big mountain. Being a couple thousand feet from terra firma is scary, no matter who you are. So, it makes sense to do this in the dark, just you and your bubble of light, making way up a nice grade 3 ice tongue. As expected, we reached the rope-up point right at first light. And over the next few hours we simul-climbed endless alpine perfection. Splitter granite cracks and aesthetic ice smears led up to the ridge that would lead us on a circuitous path to my first, and the tallest, Patagonian summit. But, ridges tend to be less than straight forward climbing and we found ourselves climbing up, down and across beautiful rime covered rock. Finally arriving at the apex of the technical climbing, we did a short rappel and slogged up the final slopes to the summit of Fitz Roy.

 


That’s it, 888 hours is all it takes to get your 24 hour route in… was it worth it? In the end, yes. Definitely. I spent the day and night with a good friend, and I mean “spent the night”. Zack and I curled up in his two man bivy sac (read: piece of nylon) and spooned the night away. We shivered, went numb, turned over and did it again… until daylight. But we woke up underneath Fitz Roy and had a great view of the Torres. In a hotel they’d charge you extra for that!

I remember being pretty negative and thinking that alpine trips were stupid, but those thoughts have happily been replaced with spooning and shivering, pre-dawn starts, star-lit glacier walks, and most of all, windless moments on top. For all of those hours spent being buffeted by the wind gave way to windless summits. Will I do it again? Definitely. Those hours spent on the mountain were irreplaceable, with beautiful ice runnels, perfect Patagonia rime-covered faces, and exquisite cracks. I’ll remember the smiles on our faces as we stood on top and the exhausted look of satisfaction after a pitch-black descent off of less than AMGA approved anchors. And last but not least, the endless march back to town. Utterly silent, beautiful, haunting. Not passing another person for over five hours, in pitch black and arriving back at our cabana in town at 4:30am with a bus to catch in less than three hours! I couldn’t have asked for a better trip.

Aguja Poincenot, Fitz Roy and Aguja Mermoz from El Pilar

]]> http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/07/eight-hundred-and-eighty-eight-hours/feed/ 0 K7: Expedition Pakistan 2010 http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/07/k7-expedition-pakistan-2010/ http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/07/k7-expedition-pakistan-2010/#comments Thu, 08 Jul 2010 19:09:28 +0000 Matt McCormick http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/?p=3681

Expeditions are massively long in the making. Researching, planning, training, and finally… packing. When the day comes to step on the plane it can be hard to believe that its actually happening.

On July 6, Tim DeRoehn and I leave for the Charakusa Valley of Pakistan to explore the amazing alpine granite potential and connect with some of the schools of the Central Asia Institute. This trip is made possible in large part to a Copp-Dash Inspire award which we were given through the American Alpine Club.

Tim and I have climbed together for the past dozen years everywhere from the White Mountains of New Hampshire to the Bugaboos of British Columbia. We’re hoping to bring the skills we’ve developed on this variety of terrain to the biggest mountains of our lives. The Southwest Pillar of K7 West is our main objective. Three lines have been climbed to or near the top of the granite wall yet the 1,500m spire of granite remains unclimbed in its entirety. Rising to 6,200m, it requires high end rock climbing and mixed climbing skills.

Proposed Line on K7 West Pillar

We’ll climb in a fast and lightweight style carrying the minimum of gear necessary. This is the style that Jonny Copp and Micah Dash brought to the mountains and we’ll try to carry on that style to the best of our abilities. Our objective will require carrying the heavy weight of ice climbing gear needed for the upper part of the peak through challenging rock terrain below. This will add to the challenge of an already challenging peak.

In addition to our climbing objectives we are bringing two enormous duffels filled with school supplies to deliver to the schools of the Hushe village at the foothills of the Karakorum mountains. These schools are part of the Central Asia Institute which is run by Greg Mortenson, author of Three Cups of Tea. We are inspired by Greg’s work to improve the educational possibilities for these children and we’re excited to contribute what we can to that process.

We are psyched and ready to go!

We’ll be sending live dispatches from Pakistan! Follow along here on VertiCulture

]]> http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/07/k7-expedition-pakistan-2010/feed/ 0 The Roaring 40’s http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/06/the-roaring-40s/ http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/06/the-roaring-40s/#comments Wed, 09 Jun 2010 00:03:05 +0000 Sam Lightner http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/?p=3456

Wind and snow battering the peaks.

Josh Gross and I had big plans this past season in Patagonia.  Fitzroy, Poincenot, and maybe Cerro Standhardt… whatever we could put together in a month. We weren’t alone with our ambitious agenda. Dozens of other climbers, many with bigger forearms than ours, made the trek to the Roaring 40’s in hope of finding granite-glory.  Unfortunately, the Gods had other ideas. As Josh Wharton said over a bottle of Alamos Malbec on his 34th day in El Chalten, “The climbers who come here don’t get shut down by apathy or an inability to climb… they get shut down by the weather.”

And so went the season, with ambitious climbers constantly modifying, then re-modifying, well laid plans. A small weather window in early December yielded some ascents, but those few triumphs were pulled together on rock routes that were still coated in ice and snow from the previous winter. The brief clearing led into “re-winter”, with icy, heavy rain pouring sideways in town, and snow piling foot upon foot on the peaks. Gear caches, stashed at those optimum places of safety where a climber could easily reach them, were covered under meter after meter of the nasty white stuff.

It is Patagonia, so the snow came with wind that loaded the slopes as uneven slabs. Sadly, the intense storms created avalanches where most climbers felt they were safe, and one very experienced Patagonia veteran was killed when his camp was ripped out in a slide. A December of this weather rolled into January, and on to February. Just before we left Josh received a postcard from his friend Zach Smith who was already in Patagonia. It read “Save yourselves and go to Spain. It’s too late for me.” Ominous, yes, but we paid it no heed.

Fitzroy and Poincenot covered in rime and snow from Rolo's yard

Josh and I arrived in El Chalten on the 5th of February. From our cabin at Aires del Fitz, we had a beautiful view of Fitzroy and Poincenot. Like a threatening volcano, a snow plume half a mile long extended east from Fitzroy’s summit. Zach came over to welcome us and announce this was the first day he had seen the mountains since he’d arrived 20 days prior. “Welcome to Patagonia.”

Dismayed by Zach’s report on conditions, we made a quick visit to Rolando “Rolo” Garibotti’s home. Rolo is not only the Michael Jordan of Patagonia, but also the Access Fund and Weather Channel all rolled into one tall, dark, and handsome package.  We hoped to climb the Franco-Argentine on Fitzroy, and let Rolo know our plans in the pursuit of beta and encouragement.  Rolo sipped his maté and stared out his front window at Fitzroy, its perfect, vertical walls, slathered in horrible rime. He then cleared his throat and said “I’d say your chances of getting up the Franco this season are…,” he paused for another sip, “nil.”

Zach might have accidentally slept through a spell of great weather (Zach is a very talented climber but a 5.15 level sleeper), and our eyes might be lying to us about the amount of snow on the mountains, but there was no arguing the word of Rolo. Our hearts sank. We decided to do the most common Patagonia climbing activity, that being “to wait” and drown sorrows in Malbec. Over a couple bottles of wine, Josh decided that on the drier days, when the wind dipped below 20mph in town, he would try to redpoint one of the new 5.13’s that had been established at a nearby sport crag. Meanwhile, I would focus my energy on eating pizza and watching the non-stop Argentine coverage of Women’s Luge in Vancouver.

Josh and some Alamos 2006 Malbec

In the following days, we each put our plans into play. Then, 10 days into our allotted 25, the hell-train of storms derailed. Over the course of one night, it went from raining sideways and 33 degrees, to dead-calm under a cloudless blue sky.  Just as suddenly, every climber in town was in action.

We briefly considered the Supercanalata, the only route on Fitzroy thought to be in condition to be climbed, but then lowered our gaze to Aguja Guillaumet. Guillaumet is considered one of the smaller peaks. It is literally and figuratively in Fitzroy’s shadow. But, it appeared to be dry enough for actual rock climbing rather than a slow, mixed-climbing affair over mushrooms of rime and ice. By linking the Giordani Ridge to the Fonrouge Ridge, both 600 meters in length and rated 5.10, we would create for ourselves a 3900 foot climb on Guillaumet’s perfect, brown granite. That would be good training for the bigger Fitzroy… if the weather held.  We toasted the plan with more Malbec and set off the next morning.

Giordani and Fenrouge Ridges with Mermoz and Fitzroy to the right

The weather and granite of Patagonia are rightfully the stuff of legends. What is not so well known are the size of the approaches and the size of the loads one must carry on said “approaches.”  To get to Guillaumet, we overloaded our packs with rock gear, ice gear, and camping and bivy supplies to the tune of 50 pounds. We then took a car north to the trailhead on the Rio Electrico. From there, we walked a pleasant four miles along the river on rolling terrain. Just over an hour into the approach our route abruptly turned uphill onto the Fitzroy Massif’s north slope. Those last two miles gained approximately 3600 feet of elevation on a trail of wet pebbles and scree. That bit of the approach took yours truly, five hours.

The bivy site was alive with climbers hoping to get on one of the lower routes or perhaps move on to the Supercanalata on Fitzroy. The storms had moved on, but they had been replaced with a cold high-pressure area from the southern ocean. Everyone was layered in down and huddling around their stoves.  Zach, who had trekked in earlier and had been sleeping in preparation for a night push on the Supercanalata, welcomed us. “It was soooo cold last night,” he said over a cup of tea. “My water bottle was iced up in my tent… an early rock climb is gonna be desperate.”

We woke early the next morning, stuck our heads out of the bivy tent, and crawled right back in. Zach had been right about the temp. We waited a couple more hours and then started towards the lower Giordani Ridge around 8:30am. A thousand feet of steep glacier travel deposited us on a low angle crescent of granite. We roped up and began simulclimbing skyward. Josh led with the rack and I climbed with the larger pack of ice gear.

The rock was cold on the hands, so I wore my Alibi gloves on almost all the pitches. The cracks were often clogged with ice and frozen snow, and the gloves did a good job of protecting my hands when I had to jam between the ice and rock. Even wet, the sticky rubber palms allowed for comfortable climbing in the cold air.

Josh on the Giordani Ridge of Guillaumet

Most of the rock was between 5.6 and 5.8, so we were able to move fast. But as we gained elevation the ridge kicked back with a series of vertical gendarmes that had to be negotiated without simulclimbing. Under normal summer conditions, we knew these towers were easily traversed, but this year the traverses were choked with ice and frozen snow. Transitioning from rock shoes to boots and crampons was an option, but each switch ate up valuable time.

Josh led the crux pitch, something we were later told was usually 4th class, with a mixed bag of techniques that were anything but comfortable. He scaled a blank slab of rock to a ledge of snow, then up an ice-filled crack to near vertical snow and rime. The back of the crack was clogged, but the melt-out along its edges left a jammable hand crack of ice. Josh pulled his way up this, with no gear below him, and then gained another slab. There he managed to hang from a jam on one hand and pull his axe off his pack with the other. All the while his Five Ten Newtons were torqued between the ice and rock. He placed the tool deeply in the frozen snow, then mantled the adze to reach a traversing slab. I followed in a similar manner, contemplating how the hell to rate such a thing.  There was 5.10+ for the hands with the flared ice crack, but the rock-shoes were working on WI4.  The mantel move was V2ish, or was it A3? The M-scale wouldn’t even fit, so in the end I just rated it “hard.”

Sam following mixed terrain on the lower ridge

After another bit of simulclimbing, we were at the col separating the lower Giordani Ridge from the upper Fonrouge.  Another team of climbers who had hiked around the Giordani and up to the col via a couloir, left packs hanging in the col above the ice. We paused to hydrate and take in a few calories, discussing the options for the much steeper face above.  We decided that the best option would be to leave the heavier boots and crampons in the col and move lighter and faster with just rock gear.  This was my idea and, it would later turn out, it was not a good one.

Josh was in a groove leading the simulclimbing so I left him on the sharp end. He took off up the steep rock face, leading a few 5.10 pitches so quickly it was hard for me to follow in as little time. After perhaps five more pitches of excellent granite we found ourselves on a small ledge four thousand feet above camp. The Rio Electrico was far below and the icy Gorra Blanca Massif loomed north of us. To the west were Cerro Torre, Torre Egger, and Cerro Standhardt. Every few minutes the still mountain air was cut by the crashing of ice as the North Fitzroy and Pollone Glaciers a few thousand feet below us, calved off chunks of ice the size of four story buildings.

Josh contemplating how many pitches and how much light is left

Josh led out a wildly exposed traverse as I estimated the pitches left above us. Interestingly, as you get higher in Patagonia, the rock gets cleaner. Over the eons the wind, which regularly hits 200 mph on the mountain ridges, has scoured all the small flakes from the walls. I was guessing we had another 600 feet of flawless granite to go when suddenly, to my left and seemingly just behind my ear, was the terrifying sound of a large object rushing through the air. I instinctively ducked, only to hear the sound pass to my right and not below me.  I looked towards Cerro Torre to see an Andean Condor, the world’s largest flying bird, cruising at my level about 15 feet from the wall. With a wingspan of ~10 feet and a body the size of a Basset Hound, the condor was an impressive sight.  The bird made another pass, this time about 25 feet out, before I thought to grab the camera. I was soon shooting video and ignoring Josh’s calm requests for more rope… we’d climbed together a lot and I knew just how scared his voice would sound if it was a dicey clip.

The condor flew off to the north, and I followed him up the pitch. We reached the very crest of the ridge and began simulclimbing again. After ~300 more vertical feet, the ascending ended at a huge gendarme. The higher party (who had skipped the Giordani Ridge) had stopped and was planning to descend. Josh and I talked it over.  We could see that the snowfield on the ridge beyond the gendarme had completely covered the rock arête. Without our ice gear, we would be taking a big risk on that snowfield. It was also just past 7pm and the temperature was in a nose dive.

The date was February 15, 2010. My forty-third birthday. Fitness doesn’t come easily with that kind of age, but perhaps some wisdom does. We decided that discretion is the better part of valor, and were soon descending the route via a host of rappels.

Flexing pins and hammered stoppers, linked with aged and wind-beaten 5 mil cord, made up the majority of the anchors. They were generally not something from Freedom of the Hills, but they held. We eventually caught and teamed up with the other group and by 11pm were at the col and hanging in our harnesses to slip on our ice boots.

The Torre Group at sunset as we descended

Another couple of rappels and an hour of descent on the glacier, and we were heating water for ramen noodles. It had been an incredible day, whether we reached the actual summit or not, and both of us were giddy with the climbing. Josh, knowing I’m a fan of bourbon, presented me with a mini-bar bottle of Jack Daniels (technically not bourbon, but beggars can’t be choosers at the Guillaumet bivy site near the far end of South America). We toasted the day and fell asleep.

The next morning we were exhausted and Josh was feeling a bit of a sore throat.  A rumor was spreading through camp that there was only one more day before the weather window slammed shut again. However, neither of us felt up to climbing without rest. With a throat full of angst over wasting a perfect day, we descended from the camp. The following day I woke with a swollen ankle, while Josh fell into a horrible bout of the flu.  As it turns out, the weather collapsed, but later improved into an even bigger window.  However, by that time we were on planes home and making plans for next year… with hopes of good weather.

]]> http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/06/the-roaring-40s/feed/ 0 Base Camp to Balcony and Back http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/05/base-camp-to-balcony-and-back/ http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/05/base-camp-to-balcony-and-back/#comments Thu, 27 May 2010 18:25:41 +0000 Chad Kellogg http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/?p=3424 May 26

I am back in Base Camp after quite the mountain experience.

Sefl portrait from basecamp

Four days ago, May 22,  I left on a speed ascent at 4:30 pm. There was a crowd of people at the start to wish me well and see me off. I walked through the Khumbu Glacier quickly with a water pack, track spikes, and jacket in a stuff sack clipped to my harness. I ran across Denis Arubko from Kazahkstan. Just before the Icefall I stepped in an ice covered puddle and soaked my left running shoe. I quickly changed into my track spikes and left my shoes tied to the fixed lines. The afternoon was warm and there was about three inches of slush on the trail. I was getting little purchase in my track shoes and had to resort to pulling on the fixed lines using a lot of upper body strength early in the climb. I made it to the top of the Icefall in just over two hours which was slower than anticipated. I continued to weave through the large crevasses toward Camp 1. When I arrived to Camp 1 I had cached a ski pole in the rescue tent. The ski pole had been taken so I continued on, less able to harness my full upper body.

I made it to Camp 2 in 3 hours and 45 minutes which was an hour slower than expected! I wanted a quick turnover at Camp 2. I switched into compression tights and Batura ice climbing boots. I filled my water bladder again and put batteries into my hand warmers. Then I ate two eggs and some Dal Baht before heading out. The changeover took 45 minutes. It was dark and pretty cold at about 9:15 pm when I took off. I wore my Nathan pack under my jacket to keep the hose from freezing. I put on my crampons and headed up the Lhotse Face toward upper Camp 3. I arrived cold and hungry about 11:45 pm. The section from 2 to 3 had gone well.

Before hand I had arranged for two Sherpas Tenzin and Gelgin to prepare water in a thermos for me at Camp 3. Jamie Clarke had lent me his Champion tent at Camp 3 which helped logistics a bunch. Inside the tent I changed into my down suit and set up the batteries and footbeds for my electric foot warmers. Without oxygen, extremities are more subject to frostbite and it was cold outside at 24,000 ft. I set up my water pack with hot water and held the cup to warm my frozen fingers. I was ready to continue at 1 am. Suddenly, I remembered that I had forgotten to call Baburam at Base Camop to let him know I was alright. I placed the call with my SAT phone and then put on my Alti gloves and headed up toward the Yellow Band.

The sky was lit with over half a moon and provided a beautiful sight as I climbed through the thin air. Almost everyone uses oxygen between Camp 3 and 4 due to the thin air and to reduce exhaustion. I was expecting to make it to the South Col in around 4 hours. The hours sped by as I forced my legs to turn over, they were being fed by my hard working lungs in the cold air. I tried to cover my mouth and nose with a buff cloth, but it restricted my breathing a bit to much. I could see my friends above on Lhotse climbing the couloir towards their summit.

I rounded the Geneva Spur about the time I could see without a headlamp. Above, on Everest there was a line of climbers from the South Col to the South Summit. I walked purposefully into Camp 4 looking for the Patagonia Brothers Camp where I could get more water. I could not find the tents! I knocked on a random tent and my friend Lhakpa Gelu unzipped the door. We both recognized one another and I asked him if he knew where the tents were. Immediately Lhakpa escorted me toward the Alpine Ascents Intl. cook tent. He knew time was essential and got me a bowl of hot soup and filled my water pack with hot water. He even helped me get my pack on under my down suit. Vern Tajas was also there offering encouragement and heading me off in the correct direction. My brain was a bit hypoxic at 26,000 ft. I moved up the fixed lines aware that there were over 150 climbers above me.

The going was slow as I picked my way through the snow covered rocks. Near the Triangle Face I began to encounter traffic coming down the fixed line. The upward progress was slowed down by all the climbers descending. I soon ran into some of the Argentinian climbers going down. They let me know that the wind and snow increased greatly once I got above the Balcony above the Triangle Face. I continued up slowly and encountered an old climber’s body between the rocks. I decided maybe I should take a dexamethazone tablet to reduce the chances of HAPE and HACE. I made it just below the Balcony and decided that Wednesday the 23rd of May was not going to be the day for the speed ascent. I looked at my watch and realized it was 11 am. I had been going for nearly nineteen hours. I sat down on a rock at 27,000 ft and watched as dozens of climbers passed me on their way down to the South Col. The view was obscured by clouds and blowing snow to the North. The morning weather had been good, but the weather had deteriorated as predicted.

I reflected on the combination of problems at hand: wind, snow, traffic and fatigue. The ascent had a combination of issues that I could only learn from for the next ascent. The focus of the climb had not just been to get to the summit. If that were the case I would have just strapped on a bottle of oxygen and gone to the top. This climb was about meeting the mountain in the most difficult way I could imagine. No porters carrying loads, helping to fix lines, without oxygen from Base Camp to the Summit of the world in a continuous push. I had made it nearly 10,000 vertical feet from Base Camp to the Balcony at 27,000 ft. Although I was disappointed with not achieving the summit, the effort was notable.

I got up and joined the throng heading down. I encountered Lhakpa Gelu heading up to assist Willie with a rescue. He was carrying oxygen and injectable dexamethazone for the patient, hoping to reach him in time. Speed capabilities also cross over for rescue situations. He let me know that he thought well of my effort. I made it back to the South Col and met Seth, Casey, Dave Hahn, Michael Brown and other friends. Seth refilled my water pack and Michael gave me some hot drinks as well. I found the Argentinians at the Patagonia Brothers camp and radioed down that I was alright and was headed down to Camp 2. I congratulated the Argentine climbers on their successful climb and headed out.

The winds were blowing hard and transporting snow into my face. I switched into goggles and pulled the balaclava up over my nose to prevent frostbite. As I rounded the Geneva Spur below Lhotse I saw three folks I knew get onto the trail ahead of me. I was Pemba, Tamara and Eva. They had summited Lhotse earlier that morning. We were all very tired as the sun broke out of the clouds. There was no way to conveniently get out of the down suit and reduce the sweat bath. Our tactic was to sit down and rest every few rappels. I made it to the base of the Lhotse Face at dusk and wound down through the glacier arriving to Camp 2 just after dark. Pemba joined us for dinner and Tamara and Eva continued down to Tamara’s camp below.

The snow began to fall in earnest. I made the decision to stay at Camp 2 Sunday night. The forecast was for major amounts of snow to arrive by Thursday. I assessed that I would not be able to physically recover for another ascent by the time the Monsoon season arrived. In addition, Camp 2 was being disassembled on Tuesday and I would have to bring down 100 lbs of gear to Base Camp in the mean time. I had made my preparations over two months and had my shot at the speed ascent this year. It was time to head home. I had a good run and returned with all of my fingers, toes and life intact. I made good decisions and had put in 100% effort. Hopefully I will get another shot at an expedition for a speed ascent in the near future.

If you want more of the story that went into Chad’s expedition to climb Everest or to read additional dispatches from the trip check out his page. Check back for a new interview with Fitz Cahall when Chad returns to hear more of his story on the mountain.

]]> http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/05/base-camp-to-balcony-and-back/feed/ 0 The Declaration of Mountain Travel http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/05/the-declaration-of-mountain-travel/ http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/05/the-declaration-of-mountain-travel/#comments Thu, 27 May 2010 05:45:38 +0000 Martin Volken http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/?p=3386

Declaration of Mountain Travel: Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness

I have been in the guiding business for just about 20 years now. I would be lying if I said that I became a mountain guide to interact with a large diversity of people. I simply wanted to go to the mountains and needed some type of job that would make this possible. Being from the Valais in the Swiss Alps made becoming a mountain guide seem like a logical conclusion. What I did not know then was that some of my best friendships would arise from people who were so-called “clients” of mine.

Not all of my clients became friends, but certainly a lot of them seem to live very interesting lives that have captured my attention in many a hut or tent. I have had the pleasure to roam the mountains with doctors, surgeons, dirt bags, lawyers, carpenters, accountants, nurses, teachers, scientists, physicists, CEO’s, CFO’s, (and SOB’s), house wives, cops, marketing managers, engineers, restaurant managers, slackers, industry reps, photographers, software developers, electricians, construction workers, movie producers, fighter pilots, marines, home builders, and many more. They come from a large diversity of socioeconomic backgrounds, though most of them make a decent living. I have been with these people on short trips, long trips, trips that were casual or where we all were scared, where the weather was on our side or where we were not invited into the mountains. I have been quietly observing these people for many years now and how they adapt to the unpredictable situations that the mountains will throw at them. Many of them get taxed to their maximum physical and emotional ability and very quickly their true colors start shining through.

Martin, in Norway, 2008

Martin, in Norway, 2008

Once we make the commitment to go into the mountains, we all get reduced to pretty much the same class. What we want needs to be carried on our backs and [that reality is where] the first switch occurs. In the “civilized world” we generally acquire more goods and services to make our lives more comfortable and better. Of course, once you have to carry all your belongings on your back, the story changes almost instantly. We start paying attention to what we really need and what we could possibly leave behind. Once this switch has been made, I have seen many of my clients experience some sense of liberation. The mountains of the Pacific Northwest are extra special that way, since there are no huts, helicopters, gondolas or porters to help out. But even in a place like the Alps with its amazing infrastructure, the story does not change all that much. Once we leave the last gondola behind, we still have to carry our belongings from one hut to the next on our very own backs. We are all pretty much the same that way, no matter what our background may be.

We keep returning to the mountains because we have experienced a great sense of freedom and fairness out there and have created some of the happiest memories of our lives. And, as I was writing this short piece, I realized that this thought sounded curiously similar to the first sentence of the Declaration of Independence. “We hold these truths to be self evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.” I wonder if Jefferson, Franklin, Chase and company would have liked ski touring?

]]> http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/05/the-declaration-of-mountain-travel/feed/ 0 Everest: Its Go Time 
 http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/05/go-time-%e2%80%a8/ http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/05/go-time-%e2%80%a8/#comments Sat, 22 May 2010 06:36:43 +0000 Chad Kellogg http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/?p=3358 22 May, 10 – 01:24 (10:24pm PST)

I am preparing to leave for my summit push in 5 hrs. There is a phrase that my friend gave me that I think is appropriate for the climb.

“Let me not pray to be sheltered from dangers, but to be fearless in facing them. 
Let me not beg for the stilling of my pain, but for the heart to conquer it.
 Let me not crave in anxious fear to be saved, but for the patience to win my freedom.” 
Shantideva


Footage of Chad climbing was provided by Sam Bricker. Keep checking back for more as we upload additional videos from Sam’s trip to Everest.

We are sending you all the best for your climb, Chad. Stay strong in  mind and body – we look forward to hearing the story on your safe return to base camp. Readers of Chad’s expedition: follow his ascent/descent online here at VertiCulture.

]]> http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/05/go-time-%e2%80%a8/feed/ 0 Report from Basecamp http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/05/report-from-basecamp/ http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/05/report-from-basecamp/#comments Fri, 21 May 2010 23:41:18 +0000 Teresa Bruffey http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/?p=3365 Depending on who you ask, Mount Everest tops out at 29,029’, at 29,035’, or at 29,038.7’, among other altitudes. Despite these discrepancies, it’s impossible not to appreciate the mass of such a colossal mound of metamorphic limestone, gneiss, schist. There is an undeniable admiration and awe for those who choose to climb to the highest point on the “Mother Goddess of the World”. From my desk on the 7th floor of a building located at sea level, its hard to fathom such a challenge. At my desk’s “elevation” of about 70’, I would have to climb our office stairs 414 times to roughly achieve 29,029′. You can be sure that I wont be trying that.

The simple aspect of elevation gain is, in itself, a burly challenge. And then you have the issue of the human body’s inability to adapt above 26,000’ in a space cheerfully called the Death Zone. Are you tempted yet to go to that altitude and try yourself?

We could debate until we’re blue in the face – or til we’re as low on oxygen as a climber at 8,000m – the best strategies and systems for climbing Everest, but the reality is that every individual who takes on this mountain whatever plan they choose is taking on an incredible challenge.

But Chad Kellogg’s dream takes climbing this mountain to even further extremes than the typical ascent.

Human Powered Adventurers, which ever type of adventure you choose, all know there are few hard and fast certainties of adventure but we can always count on there being many variables. VertiCulture has been following Chad’s expedition since his departure for Kathmandu in early April with the confidence that he is – without a doubt – physically and mentally ready for this challenge And we hope that the fickle tendancies of the “Mother Goddess of the World” will align for his successful summit and descent in solid conditions.

After much preparation and with a positive forecasted weather window, Chad is about to begin climbing toward his goal; a speed ascent and descent record from basecamp at ~17,000’ to the summit of Mount Everest in near 30 hours. And he will begin his climb Saturday, May 22nd at approx. 3am(PST).

We spoke yesterday with Sam Bricker who just returned from a trip basecamp to film part of Chad’s journey through interviews with him, climbers, guides, and fixtures of the Everest community for Outdoor Research and for the in-the-works film, Suffer Machine. We wanted to know the general feeling at basecamp. How do others perceive Chad’s determined goal?

Sam reported the overall feeling; “This massive goal is one that very few are prepared to take on, but the community feels Chad is ready. If anyone is capable of achieving this speed record, its him. He has built a huge network of support within the community; Willie Benegas, Conrad Anker, Pemba Gylaje Sherpa, the Hanes Expedition Team, Altitude Junkies… Chad’s dedication to reach his goal has earned him deserved respect among his high altitude comrades.”

Sam continued by defining Chad is a climber, through-and-through, with the summit of Everest being a part of the lifelong “resume” he will continue to build. Though the efforts of all who attempt Everest are laudable, Chad has chosen not to go as a client or part of a team, but to go on his own, simply and purely, as a climber. “He’s not some guy who just decided to climb and signed onto a team. The real story is that he’s an unassuming homebuilder from Seattle. And he’s a climber. There’s an unavoidable distinction between a client and a climber. This is serious business for both clients and climbers but guides have a vested interest in keeping their clients safe and successful. Chad does not have that same infrastructure to fall back on. He’s on his own. But, if anyone can do this speed climb, if anyone is prepared to do it, it’s Chad.” Sam also reported that Chad is in good spirits, but anxious to begin his climb after months of preparation.

“Whether Chad realizes it or not, he has a support network that stands behind him, believes in him, and will be there to celebrate with him when he returns back to basecamp.”

Chad will begin his climb on Saturday, May 22nd and we’ll be following him via his SPOT tracker relayed here on VertiCulture. We continue to be proud of Chad’s dedication to his goal, his tireless energy and ambition for reaching his dream.

Footage with Conrad Anker was provided by Sam Bricker. Keep checking back for more as we upload additional videos from Sam’s trip to Everest.

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