Outdoor Research Verticulture » Climbing http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com Just another WordPress weblog Wed, 08 Sep 2010 23:37:36 +0000 http://wordpress.org/?v=2.9.2 en hourly 1 South Greenland Free Climbing Expedition http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/08/south-greenland-free-climbing-expedition/ http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/08/south-greenland-free-climbing-expedition/#comments Thu, 19 Aug 2010 22:41:50 +0000 Sarah Garlick http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/?p=4284 Sarah falls in love with fjord climbing, 2009 Newfoundland expedition. P

Sarah falls in love with fjord climbing, 2009 Newfoundland expedition. Photo by Kirsten Kremer.

The bags are packed, the house is clean, and the cat is pacing around nervously, clearly aware that something is going on. Jim and I are heading out this afternoon from our home in New Hampshire, starting the first of many travel legs to get to south Greenland…
Green-where?

Last week my hairdresser asked me if we were driving to Greenland. Let’s face it; Greenland is not exactly on the radar for most folks. It’s that island in the far north Atlantic that looks oddly enormous on some maps (Mercator projections make Greenland appear larger than Africa, when in fact Africa is nearly 14 times larger), and like a single giant iceberg on others. But to climbers, Greenland is more of a known entity—it has been on the dream circuit for alpine rock adventurers, and a place I’ve wanted to visit since first seeing photos of its towering walls in an early issue of Alpinist.

Thanks to support from the Copp-Dash Inspire Award (actually, the first time I even heard about climbers going to Greenland was from Micah Dash in Indian Creek probably 8 years or so ago, when he was planning his first expedition there…) and Outdoor Research, we are about to step out onto a new adventure. The fun starts with a flight to Iceland, then a flight to Greenland, then a helicopter ride across Greenland, then a boat ride to our base camp—about four days, plus or minus, to get from here to there.

Wish us luck (and some clear weather)!

Check back to VertiCulture soon for an update from Sarah upon her return. More of her stories can be found on her site www.rockclimbinggeology.com.

]]> http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/08/south-greenland-free-climbing-expedition/feed/ 0 The French Files http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/06/the-french-files/ http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/06/the-french-files/#comments Wed, 23 Jun 2010 16:49:49 +0000 Evan Stevens http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/?p=3537

Gorges du Tarn

At the end of every ski season I breathe a huge sigh of relief.  Not because I am excited that the winter is over, more so that I am excited I navigated through the avalanche mine field successfully, that all of my guests/clients were safe, and that seasons are changing, and it is time for rock shoes and chalk.

Running a backcountry ski lodge (Valhalla Mountain Touring) in the wilds of British Columbia is definitely a dream come true, but after you work 100 days in a row, give or take, in avalanche terrain, you are ready for a break.

So this year, my wife and I decided that we would spend 5 weeks cruising around France, sampling the finest in French limestone, red wines, cheeses and baked goods.  I may have put the rock first in that list, but the other items may have brought more joy in the end…

We started our journey with 10 days in an area known as the Gorges du Tarn, 1 pitch steep and pocketed limestone cragging, where we could attempt to transfer our ski legs in to climbing arms. We threw ourselves at pitch after pitch of overhanging jug hauls until the aching forearms made us quit and return to our ‘Gite’ to drink some wine (a gite is a French term for a small studio vacation rental. These cost anywhere from 20€ to 30€ a night and are all over France). After a bunch of days, we decided we had just barely enough fitness to go try our hand at some long routes.

Ever since I started rock climbing, I’ve heard mythical tales of the Verdon Gorge.  The 1,000-foot deep limestone canyon required a rap in and climb out, with no easy means of retreat. Grades were supposedly REALLY hard, and the runouts between bolts were astronomical.  GULP. So there was no choice on our next destination — the Verdon — and to see if the rumors were true.

Far and away, my favorite type of climbing is to do long, multi-pitch free routes. I love doing pitch after pitch of hard climbing way above the ground — maybe that is why I have made Squamish, BC my home with its plethora of hard multi-pitch free climbs. This is what the Verdon Gorge is all about.

I did some research enroute and found us an incredible gite to stay, just right up our alley.  The place is called ‘Mayreste‘ and is run by a great couple named JF and Anita. It is a few kilometers away from the gorge on a quiet piece of land with stunning views, running on solar power and spring water. If you go to the Verdon, you have to stay with these guys!

 


There was nothing to do but to climb, and I had a slew of classic routes for Jasmin and I to tackle. We parked at the top of the cliff, walked for 30 seconds, and were at the rap anchors. With wide eyes and butterflies in our stomachs, we decided to start with ‘La Demande’, the first full length route in the Verdon, completed in 1968. Being the first full-length route, it follows a big weakness in the cliff, with cracks and chimneys for large portions of the climb. Jasmin and I are both trad adventure climbers, having done our crack and chimney penance, so the 11 pitch 5.10 route went relatively fast, and before we knew it, we were drinking wine back at out gite. So far the Verdon wasn’t as hard and scary as we thought… But were we getting too cocky?

Jasmin tries to stay warm and dry climbing out of the gorge in a storm

Next up was something a little harder, Pichenbule, a 5.11+, that weaves its way up the walls for 12 pitches. Back we went to the canyon rim, and rapped in with overcast skies-but rain wasn’t really in the forecast. The first 4 pitches of the route went relatively fast, but then the drizzle started.  Being at a ledge, we weighed our options — we had a choice of a 5.5 escape route back to the top, so we wouldn’t have to rap down and walk out 15km back to our car in the rain. We decided to take that option, but halfway up the weather seemed to get better, so we rapped BACK down to the ledge and started back up the original route. Oops, 2 pitches into that route, the skies began to laugh at us, belching heavy rain and hail on us. Luckily we chose another 5.10- escape route at that point with well bolted hand cracks taking us back out of the the canyon. Three soaking wet and lightening electrified pitches later we were back on the rim, running for the car. At least we weren’t walking out all afternoon in the rain!

After some rest (and gear drying!) we decided to try and tackle one of the classic test pieces of the Verdon. ‘La Fete des Nerfs’ which translates to something like the birthday of nerves.  Hmmm. At 10 pitches long with all of the pitches being harder than 5.10 and half of them around 11+/12- we were in for a hard day on the rocks. We started early, packed light and rapped in, psyched for the hard climbing and the adventure.

Yeah, there were some big run outs and the climbing was hard, but Jas and I were warmed up for the adventure and right where we wanted to be. A few falls, but over all,  pitch after pitch of brilliant climbing, under steel blue skies, with amazing rock. It was so great to be there, and it makes my hands sweat just thinking about it. Lucky for me, I chase my dreams and make sure they come true — and climbing in the Verdon has been a dream of mine for a long time.

After ‘La Fete des Nerfs’ we moved on with our road trip, sport climbing in Ceuse, and then some more amazing multipitch routes in Presles, but by far and away my time in the Verdon was the most memorable of our 5 week road trip. Now I am back home, climbing the granite of Squamish and super excited for the alpine rock climbing season to start here!

For more info on the Verdon Gorge check out this article online.

You can read more about Evan and his adventures climbing and skiing by checking out his blog.

]]> http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/06/the-french-files/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 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 Ice Climbing in the Ghost http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/04/ice-climbing-in-the-ghost/ http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/04/ice-climbing-in-the-ghost/#comments Fri, 23 Apr 2010 22:04:51 +0000 Sarah Hueniken http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/?p=3122 It was dark out, my headlamp needed a battery change, and my coffee hadn’t quite yet kicked in.  By 5am we were hiking over frozen creeks, bush crashing through trees, and shedding layers faster then leaves falling off aspens on a windy autumn day.

Kate, Cheryl and I were on a mission….we came to slay the Sorcerer.  After an hour and a half of hiking, the headlamps had been turned off, the chatter was down to a minimum and Kate was almost down to a sports bra.  I anticipated the turn of the next corner of our hike as I knew it would shed the greatly anticipated first view of our classic 210m grade V climb. There was a gulp, a gasp and then some nervous and giddy “wows” and “oh my god”s…..THIS is what I love about my job!

 


This year OR helped out with the Advanced Women’s Ghost Ice Climbing trip in the Canadian Rockies by supplying every woman with a new black Solitude jacket and windstopper hat.  WOW!!  It was an incredible contribution to an incredible group of high spirited and motivated women.  I hope these jackets know what kind of use and abuse they are in for!

The trip’s goal was to allow the women to push their own climbing either through following harder climbs or by leading the pitches they wanted to with direct coaching and feedback.  A day of cragging ice and mixed, near Canmore had some participants looking like they had just finished a mountain biking race…spring arrived earlier then usual!
The next morning we loaded up our 4-by-4’s and headed into Ghost territory.  Some exciting river crossings tested our little Rav4 but shortened our hike to the Valley of the Birds where a bunch of short pitches led us into a maze of tight water-worn canyons and culminated in some cool 2-pitch, grade 4 climbs.  Almost everyone had a chance to lead that day and for some it was even their first ice leads ever!  Yah, Piper!

That night we created a mini village of six tents, one walltent, and one serious fire pit.  After some good eating, the next day’s plans were set into motion and tired bodies crawled into tents early anticipating a predawn start the next day.  Fist and Fang, Beowulf and the Sorcerer were all climbed and happy faces and tired arms returned to camp that afternoon for a dinner feast and a roaring fire thanks to chainsaw and ice climbing guru Sharon Wood.

Our last morning, two teams climbed Wicked Wanda, and one very courageous 4wd team blasted up Hidden Dragon, backed off of a detached Candle Stick maker and sillied their way up the Joker.  Sadly that afternoon the mini village had to be repacked and we said farewell to the Ghost Valley…until next year!

I love ice climbing.  I love the Ghost. I love sharing ice climbing with others.  This camp was a bit of a dream come true for me, as I had the opportunity to share one of my favorite places with a crew of motivated, excited, and highly talented women.

This summer OR will be contributing yet again to our rock and alpine programs.  Another great opportunity for keen mountain women to take charge of their learning and embrace the sharp end of their climbing careers….or just have a blast with a bunch of other mountain lovers! For more questions about these courses, please email Sarah at shueniken@yahoo.ca.  Thanks again OR for your support in these exciting mountain opportunities for women!

]]> http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/04/ice-climbing-in-the-ghost/feed/ 0 An Excellent Escapade http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/04/an-excellent-escapade/ http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/04/an-excellent-escapade/#comments Fri, 16 Apr 2010 01:18:21 +0000 Jeremy Park http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/?p=3012 Note from the VertiCulture Editor: This is a re-telling of a story about OR gear guru Jeremy Park by Courtney Estes, aka Coke, former OR Retail Store Manager and lifetime OR family member….

Hiking up to base camp

So here is the story (only slightly embellished on my [Coke's] part).….

Jeremy took a week off work in the store to go climbing in the Bugaboos. He was due to return to work on the first day of the Sidewalk Sale, which is one of the busiest days of the year for us. The first six days of his trip, they had fantastic weather: Blue skies, gorgeous sunshine, and fantastic climbing. The seventh day, however, a massive storm of biblical proportions set in. Their climbing trip over, they packed up his car and prepared to return stateside. As they drove, Jeremy noticed a great deal of water pouring onto the road, but his car had seen worse and he was determined to get home. He rounded a sharp curve in the road and slammed on his brakes. Just ahead of them, a massive mudslide had come through and completely washed out the highway. The only road home was gone. Without food, fuel, or shelter, they turned the car around and drove to a small inn a few kilometers (we’re in Canada , remember?) back. Inquiring about the condition of the roads, they were disturbed to hear that it would take at least two days, if not more, for the road to reopen. They were trapped. And the Sidewalk Sale started the next day.

2nd pitch of bugaboo spire NE ridge

Most of us, if we found ourselves in Jeremy’s position, would understand that the gods were simply not favorable of a return to work, and instead wanted us to extend our vacation by several days. There was no alternative way back to the States, so of course everyone would understand why a return to work was impossible. Jeremy, however, saw the situation as a challenge and was ready to meet it head on.

He had noticed an Apache attack helicopter sitting nearby the inn, and a plan began to formulate in his head. He walked back to his car and gathered up everything he could carry in his bag. He bade a sad farewell to his car, not knowing if the two would ever meet again. Striding over to the helicopter, he noticed the pilot starting preparations to leave. He stood in front of the helicopter and stuck out his thumb. How could the pilot resist? The door to the helicopter opened, and Jeremy jumped in. Up they flew, headed south. Out the window Jeremy could see that the road had washed out in a number of locations – it would definitely take weeks for the road to reopen.

On the Apache flew until they reached a lonely field in rural Canada . There the pilot dropped Jeremy off, wished him luck, and continued on his highly classified Canadian CIA mission. Jeremy had no choice but to stick out his thumb again, and hope for the best.

My partner climbing Pigeon in style

After some time, he was picked up and driven to some random town in the middle of Canada . The town had a bus stop, but it would be days before the next bus to Seattle came through so Jeremy was forced to hitchhike again. This time, he was able to reach a slightly larger town that had a bus coming in 7 hours, at 3 in the morning. Jeremy used the time to take his first shower in a week and to study the locals at an all night trucker diner. Turns out Canadian truckers are quite similar to American truckers. Who knew?

At 3am, a road weary Jeremy boarded a bus headed to Seattle . The Sidewalk Sale was due to begin in 7 hours. The race was on. At 8am, Jeremy called from Bellingham to let the crew know he’d be running late. The response from his coworkers was less than positive, and I will leave the exact words out of this story to prevent offending anyone. Then Jeremy explained that he had been stranded in Canada, had hitchhiked on a helicopter, and had been on a Greyhound bus since 3am. There was no way he was going to abandon his team on sale day. Cheers and shouts of joy erupted from the store. Jeremy arrived just after the store opened and performed brilliantly all day.

Here's Jeremy hard at work

The store hit their sale goal and Legendary Service was received by all. That would be the end of this happy tale, except that Jeremy’s car still sat abandoned in Canada . He sent a heartfelt plea to the climbing community, hoping that someone would pick his car up for him and drive it back to Seattle . A few days went by, and finally someone called him offering to return his beloved vehicle.

Fred Beckey had heard Jeremy’s cry for help, understood his plight, and was willing to bring his car home. Several days later Mr. Beckey’s climbing partner, a 23 year old blond Swede, dropped Jeremy’s car off at OR. With tears of joy in his eyes, he pushed past the young girl and embraced his beloved automobile. After days of adventure into the great unknown, simply so he wouldn’t leave his team hung out to dry, Jeremy Park ’s Excellent Escapade was over.

]]> http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/04/an-excellent-escapade/feed/ 0 New River Rendezvous http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/04/new-river-rendezvous/ http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/04/new-river-rendezvous/#comments Mon, 12 Apr 2010 23:45:56 +0000 VertiCulture http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/?p=2853
May
14
May
15
May
16

Lucky #7! The New River Rendezvous is back for its annual fundraising gig benefiting the New River Alliance of Climbers. Its fun, its friendly, its a 3-day celebration of climbers, climbing and the New River Gorge. Gather with friends, relax, compete, play, and climb in laid-back Southern West Virginia.

This weekend of climbing fun includes climbing and bouldering comps, sumo wrestling, presentations by Chuck Fryburger and Chris Sharma, dessertapalooza, clinics galore, and the Odub-Jer Artastic Jamnation! Dont miss out on the fun.

For a full list of details, info on camping and carpooling, and the schedule, go to www.newriverrendezvous.com.

May 14-16
New River Gorge
Burnwood, WV

]]> http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/04/new-river-rendezvous/feed/ 0 Rochambeau, Desert-Style http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/03/rochambeau-desert-style/ http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/03/rochambeau-desert-style/#comments Mon, 22 Mar 2010 22:20:22 +0000 Teresa Bruffey http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/?p=2520 Warm desert wind tickled my ears and the sun beat intensely on my back. My internal thermometer was still programmed to regulate the winter climate of the Pacific Northwest so the day seemed hotter than its recorded 70degrees. Despite a bead of sweat that trickled down my back, a shiver sent goose bumps dancing across my arms. With a nervous glance to the side, the exposure of the ragged arête threatened to pull me out into the void of the huge blue sky with no where to go but down. With a peek below, my out-of-shape eyes judged the distance between me, the stopper at my heels, and the ground to be precariously dangerous. Am I too high above that last piece I wedged into the uneven sandstone? Is it even good enough to hold a fall, despite setting it into place with a few vigorous yanks that could’ve pulled my arm out off!?!? The ground where my partner provided a patient belay – as well as high-quality heckling – seemed too close for comfort. Sending a plea for help to my muscles and tendons, I employed the stretch of go-go Gadget arms, the lightness of a butterfly, and the sticky feet of a tree frog…and I stepped with a little jump and reached. And then…Bam! What had looked like a teensy crimper was actually a massive pocket. Still unaccustomed to climbing outside after a winter of cold and wet, I seemed to have shrunken holds to a fraction of their actual size by the time the info went from eyeball-to-brain. Remembering to breathe before my face turned the color of the red rock I climbed, channeling my inner rock superhero, and finessed, balanced, and shimmied my way up to the top.

As I set the anchor for my partner – who continued to heckle mercilessly, by the way – I looked out at the vast backdrop to my adventure. Below bright blue sky, the rock – striped, speckled, lined, and flaked – exploded! out of the desert as far as the eye could see (at least, as far as the eye gazed before hitting the “Wonder of the World of Vegas” pyramid, aka the Luxor Hotel). The happy tweeting of birds bounced off the rock mingling with the laughter of other climbers in the valley. That long-since-felt, but still familiar burn in my forearms and calves reminded me how good it feels to find out just how far it can push my mind and body. With the season’s first lead under my belt, the fun has only just begun.

 


OR just returned from having a very fun time participating in the Red Rock Rendezvous. It was a great event this year – thanks to all the attendees, athletes, event producers, and all the other sponsors who helped make this event a rockin’ good time. See you there next year!

]]> http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/03/rochambeau-desert-style/feed/ 0 Launching into the Unknown http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/02/launching-into-the-unknown/ http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/2010/02/launching-into-the-unknown/#comments Tue, 23 Feb 2010 22:44:45 +0000 Blake Herrington http://outdoorresearchverticulture.com/?p=2071 “I would like the experience at some point this year of launching up a wall and into the unknown…”

The above was written by my friend Rad Roberts last spring, acutely distilling an alpinist’s desire for exploration into one line of email. But desire is a foe ill-suited to stormy Northwest weather. So after a summer of missed chances, a forecasted few days of sun was all we needed to put plans into action.

 


We left Seattle at 5AM, en route to Sloan Peak (7,800′). The Southwest face was 1,500′ of solid-looking stone in an accessible location. It had never been climbed…

Rad so strongly wanted to launch into the unknown, so after a few miles of old-growth and alpine meadows, I let him take the first pitch. A mossy chimney leads to who-knows-where. From atop the chimney progress slows, but movement is interjected with whoops of joys and grunts of desperation. I prepare to get sandbagged. Instead of the vegetated corner, Rad’s following a line of previously-unseen –and overhanging– splitter cracks. Forty more feet and he’s off belay, 15 meters of slack pulled up, and I’m on.

I reacquaint myself with backpack-clad squirming, lean a right shoulder into the wall and pray the rubber on my comically blown-out shoes will adhere for a few more moves. The climbing is phenomenal, and well-protected. I trundle some blocks and barely hang on between desperate finger locks.

We trace a line up thin cracks and delicately-featured rock. Dodging left around a huge roof, Rad dances up a right-facing dihedral, belaying along a major ledge system 400′ up.

We survey our situation: time, water, location… and I’m off. With another steep unknown wall looming, it’s time for some speed.

The rock here is even cleaner. My pitch flows without hesitation. This is why we climb. Reach up for the jam, stem out to the knob, 3 more moves to a stance and gear…At 50 meters I ease onto a pedestal, and I’m staring at a rusty Lost Arrow Piton! We suspect someone had come across the long ledge which splits the face and also belayed atop the pillar.

Rad’s lead starts out with what we’d expected to be 30′ of unprotected overhanging face climbing. It was actually 31 feet. But instead of no protection, he finds a hidden cam placement, and slings a protruding granite knob. The rock is unlike any I’ve seen in the Cascades. Huge fins, dikes, and scoops facilitate steep face climbing… and set up Rad for the sting in the tail, tight fingers in an overhanging corner.

Two more long pitches, and the angle relents. It’s 7pm, we’ve been out of water for hours and have one micro headlamp. But I’ve never summited Sloan, and if we don’t summit, is it a complete route? We eschew the most circuitous parts of the corkscrew scramble and solo directly to the top.

Forest fire smoke surrounds us, holding a place in the sky for gathering darkness. We begin downclimbing to the East. And soon we’re rappelling into a glacial moat framed by moonlit rock and snow.

The final crux: 2 people, one ice tool, 0 crampons, and an icy late-season glacier. Some minor bollard shenanigans and creative nut-tool usage land us at rocks below the snow, where the sound of flowing water has drawn us. We split our last chocolate bar, drink a liter each, and smile. We’re no longer racing the dark. And suddenly we’re not benighted on a strange descent without the proper equipment. Now we’re two friends at the end of a long day, awed by the stars and thrilled with the climb. As simple sugar and satisfaction course through our veins we breathe deeply and head off the snow, across the rock, and down into the night.

Watch Blake’s full-cut video of the Sloan Peak climb and check out his other adventures on his blog, blakeclimbs.blogspot.com or on his Vimeo channel.

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