Of note, Kevin Mahoney returned with Freddy Wilkinson over a week later for the second ascent. He linked our first two pitches into one extraordinary lead, and the pair added a final pitch to the trees.

The Ouray Ice Festival takes over the park January 5th – 8th. A long weekend full of clinics, demos, a comp showdown with some of the best climbers in the field, good times and great brews with awesome folks. We’ll see you there! Swing by the OR booth for demos of gloves, gaiters, puffy jackets and sneak peaks at some of the gear in production for the coming fall.

All the details can be found on the festival website.

Kyle's new backyard training playground

Last week at the Bozeman Ice Festival a bunch of dirty, stinky, metal heads with alpine climbing addictions packed into the Outdoor Research rental house. Everyone was keen on climbing the sketchiest terrain available, not showering, giving praise to Ozzy, talking mullets, and drinking as much PBR as possible. Every computer in the house gravitated to what quickly became everyone’s new favorite website, mapofmetal.com. Okay, okay, maybe it’s just me that fits the above description, but what is true is the map of metal website, check it out, it will soon be your favorite!

Twelve of us did in fact pack it into one house for a week of climbing, teaching clinics, slideshows, and gear development meetings. Including Alex Kutches the president of OR, Christian and Teresa from the marketing department, Jeanie Wall the new alpine clothing designer, and several other freeloading (me) athletes. As an athlete with OR, I found it really cool to meet everyone, share stories, ropes, and beers, and talk climbing. The fact that Alex would cook us breakfast was pretty cool too!

Joe Josephson, et al did an incredible job offering people some top notch climbing clinics, great parties, and amazing nights of slideshows! Getting to see the incredible Jeff Lowe talk about his perceptions and life as a climber will remain with me for years to come. For three nights legendary climbers Barry Blanchard, Will Gadd, Henry Barber, Kitty Calhoun, Bruce Hendricks, Kris Erickson, Bernard Mailhot, and OR’s Margo Talbot and Gordon McArthur, presented the culmination of the last forty years of ice climbing in North America. Amazing! The drive home message from the evening events is that the younger generation of ice climbers has them to thank, or at least that’s how I read it.

After the four official days of the festival were finished, most of the OR household headed up to Hyalite for our fifth day in row, to go mixed climbing at the extremely steep Amphitheater. While Gordon McArthur did some really impressive hanging upside-down, leg-over-arm, ninja-like tricks, I was also stoked because I found a cool vertical dry-tool route with sketchy bolting, SWEET! Watching Gord was amazing and made me think about my own weaknesses as a mixed climber. 1) Heavy alpine gorilla ass 2) Complete lack of seriousness 3) My leg is physically incapable of going over my head. So I started to ask Gord about his training program to prepare for world cup competitions.

Now, mixed climbing is an inherently ridiculous sport and the fact that there are competitions, much like figure skating is a competition, further proves its illegitimacy. Absurdness aside, it is damn fun and even though I mock it I sure do love to do it. So much so that I’m signed up to compete at the Ouray Ice Fest in three weeks! Yikes! “How do I train with only one month?,” I asked Gord. And that is when he told me about this thing in his back yard (in video at 3:32):

And so that’s the plan, inspired by Gord and stoked on personal improvement, my plan until Ouray is to hang upside down and attempt to get my leg over my arm! A figure 4, I think it is called. See ya in Ouray!

Oh, and one last thing. Before everyone cracked one last beer, turned up the Black Sabbath, and said their goodbyes, everyone in the house huddled together and talked about clothing for year’s to come. Jeanie Wall is OR’s new alpine clothing designer and it was agreed by everyone staying in the house that we all have a crush on her (seriously, that was not just me this time). She comes to the team with years of industry experience and being a bad-ass climber herself understands the clothing needs that climbers have. Look forward to some amazing things to come!

Find more stories from Kyle and Gordon here on VertiCulture including links to their respective blogs. Thanks!

Gordon on NW Passage, M10, Photo: Jason Thompson

The Bozeman Ice Festival is different from any other event I’ve ever been to.  So much that it’s hard to put into words the impact it had on me.  Soulful, majestic, full-hearted, committed, meaningful, driven, historical and futuristic…and sure, these words are all great and will do for now, but even still…they don’t do justice to what I experienced over the past week.

Arriving in Bozeman a week before the festival, myself along with a few other friends (Jason Nelson, Kendra and Carter Stritch) were super energized to “get after it” in Hyalite Canyon.  Hyalite Canyon is host to a sea of ice climbs from beginner to totally scary hard, so there was to be no limit to how many climbs we could fit in prior to the anticipated ice festival.  But before coming I had heard about a cave up in Hyalite that hosted a hard mixed climb, “Inglorious Bastards”, M12, so…in hearing that, it became a priority of mine to jump on that rig and try to climb it.

Walking into Hyalite Canyon simply takes your breath away.  Despite the cliché, I’m serious…Hyalite is one of the most beautiful places that I’ve ever climbed at.  Period.  And standing inside the cave high up on the “unnamed wall”, there were certainly moments when I forgot all about climbing and found myself drifting off into the scenic wonderland.

Day 1 was a workday.  Jason Nelson and I spent a bit of time getting used to the style of rock and sorting through the moves on “Inglorious Bastards”.  When looking at the route from outside the cave, it didn’t seem that big or long.  However when hanging horizontally close up and personal to the roof of that cave…it’s a haul and a half.  I want to give thanks to Conrad Anker and Pete Tepley for putting up that route, and also a “nice work” to Sam Elias for nabbing the first ascent.  On day 2, my third try I was able to repeat “Inglorious Bastards”, M12 (Thanks to Jason for bein’ there on the other end of my rope).  I was psyched about this.  Side note: It was cool and inspiring that this particular style of route was natural (nothing was drilled to enhance the route).  Some may think that routes at this level don’t exist any more without “manufacturing” them.

Gordon on NW Passage, M10, photo: Jason Thompson

Mid week, after a few days of climbing we found ourselves, amongst many others, in the Emmerson Hall (in Bozeman), mingling, giving high fives, and simply sharing the excitement about the Bozeman Ice Festival Starting.  Vendors and sponsors were busy handing out demo gear to all the enthusiasts, people from all over the country buzzing about clinics that they had signed up for.  The hype and animation from all that were involved and participating…just standing back…for even a moment, witnessing what was going on all around me…you could just tell there was something different…something deep and inspiring.

I love teaching.  I love sharing my passion for climbing with others.  Any opportunity to pass on what I’ve learned, what I’ve been taught, whether the simple notion of belaying to the specific intricate movement with mixed tools on the rock, all if it puts a smile on my face.  The people you get to meet, such characters that make you laugh all day long.  Seeing the “clients” progress in only hours, watching someone go from struggling to succeeding, the screams of joy at the top of a climb…I love it…all of it.  So naturally, being given that opportunity to teach clinics for three days at the Bozeman Ice Festival…of course I was fired up.

This year the Bozeman Ice Festival was celebrating the history of ice climbing.  It was the 15th anniversary for the Bozeman Fest and such icons as Barry Blanchard, Will Gadd,  Kitty Calhoun, Margo Talbot, and of course…Jeff Lowe, amongst many others, were on board.  What these people did for the sport of ice and mixed climbing will be forever remembered as a courageous and wild movement.  Joe Josephson and Mike Cooperstein did an amazing job in presenting such a crew of “heroes”.  And with each evening presenation, Thursday through to Sunday night, everyone that was in attendance played witness to such history…history that left us all inspired to keep pushing.

Gordon, Photo: Jason Thompson

On the Saturday night of the festival, Joe Josephson gave me the honor of getting up on stage and presenting my view of “mixed climbing today”.  When it came time to get up on stage, “I’d like to bring up Gord McArthur…”, my legs shook from my seat to holding the mic (thanks to everyone that encouraged me).  But the second I started speaking there were no longer sewing machine legs holding me up, but sheer excitement guiding my every word.  It was sureal to be on the same stage as icons of the sport.  Like Barry Blanchard, who taught me how to ice climb seven years ago or Will Gadd who taught me how to mix climb around the same time (who now coaches me in pursuit of world cup competitions and current test pieces).  And of course “Joe Joe” who helped lead the way in establishing many of the Canadian Rockies’ classic ice lines.  Being able to share my view of mixed climbing with everyone in that theatre was a real treat.  Big shout out to Brian Dalrymple and Boone Speed for producing such an amazing video of the Bull River and “EL Matador”, M12 (the movie I showed on Saturday night at the ice fest).

From start to finish, Bozeman, Hyalite, the people, sponsors, heroes, enthusiasts, friends, event organizers, and everyone else in between…it all created an atmosphere that sunk deep.  It left me feeling joy for the sport of ice and mixed climbing…more so.  I love climbing, I love the people, I love the support, and I love the enthusiasm amongst all that share the same passion that I do.  Am I going back next year? You betcha…and the year after that and the year after that.

Thanks, Joe Joe and Coop for your full hearts of this sport and willingness to help grow it as well as to inspire others.

Photos courtesy of Jason Thompson. Find more of his incredible work on his website, JThompsonPhotography.com. Check back early next year for updates from Gord on his Ice Climbing World Cup tour on his blog and here on VertiCulture.

“My attitude is that if you push me towards something that you think is a weakness, then I will turn that perceived weakness into a strength.” – Michael Jordan

For the past couple of months I’ve been focusing my climbing a lot on “onsighting” – the art of showing up to a route you’ve never seen before and trying to do it first go.  A while ago my coach told me straight up that it was my onsighting ability that’s been holding me back from certain goals (mainly competing).  With only a few months to go before mixed season (and the start of all the comps lined up), he basically said to get after it and onsight as much as possible with the time I had left (on rock that is).

It’s been a tough summer, with crappy weather and too many bugs.  I’ve been able to rock climb a bunch but not as much as I would have liked.  Because of the various “road blocks” I’ve been somewhat restricted to backyard training.  Not such a bad thing considering what I have back there (bouldering gym and a crazy mixed climbing set up).  But because of the lack there of, it’s been mentally taxing when the “bit that I’ve been chomping on” has near worn out.

My local crag is rad but I’ve either climbed “it” or been on “it”.  Thus onsighting is a bit hard to do there.  Next plan: convince my wife that I need to go climb elsewhere.  And so “operation: onsighting” began.

The first stop on this mission was Skaha Bluffs in Penticton, BC.  This place has a bazillion routes, so there was no shortage of new climbs to jump on.  I spent 4 days there (during the first annual Skaha climbing festival), attempting to climb every day, as myself and the two buddies I was with wanted to make the most of the trip.  Naturally by day 4 we could barely move, never mind climb.  However, sucking it up and ignoring the pain, I gave ‘er everything I had for all four days.  Onsighting went well and I felt as though I was reading routes a little better by the end.

The next location for mission: onsighting was down in Tensleep, Wyoming.  This place is so incredible, whether limestone, sandstone, steep, pockets, crimps, the works.  I was there earlier this year and had an amazing time. The second time around I was totally focused on getting on as many new routes as possible.  I wanted to “send”, but more so to jump from route to route, attempting to better my skills at reading the routes as well as my movement whilst on the fly.

Throughout my 7 day stay in Tensleep, we had 5 days of actual rock climbing–2 on, 1 off, 3 on.  My buddy Kevin Wilkinson, who has bolted a lot of the top-notch routes in Tensleep, was super keen in helping me.  Showing me all the routes to get on, working with me on various tactics, etc., it was certainly great having him there, the support, the encouragement…it helped.

By the end of the trip I was starting to feel as though I had gained some momentum in the realm of onsighting.  I was moving more efficiently, not resting as much…all in all I was feeling better about the weakness…which was a good thing.

Last year during various competitions I was strong enough, I could move fast enough…but I struggled with the actual movement, sorting through the moves when the clock was ticking.  I thought that perhaps it was power, or lack there of, that was holding me back but really from the beginning it was my lack of comfort on new terrain.  I was nervous; cautious, too cautious, uneasy, scared.  These elements did not help for coming anywhere near the chains (top of route).

Climbing needs to be fun.  Without that, there’s just total discomfort.  Despite being focused on recent trips and the task at hand I definitely made sure there was some fun thrown in.  I needed to keep it all in perspective that I love climbing because I have fun doing it.   When I step out into the “arena” of a competition I need to remember that it’s fun, to have fun and if I can keep that at the forefront there will be no hesitation, or caution. There will be nothing holding me back.

There’s about a month left of rock season and I’m gaining on the goal of onsighting 20+ routes.  It’s a good challenge and I’ve remained motivated to get ‘er done.  I’m psyched, excited, stoked, pumped…you name it.  I think I’m starting to understand the “fun” again.  Kinda like when you first started rock climbing, that constant chill up your spine, the adrenaline of such happiness when going up. And of course, with the mixed season just around the corner naturally I’ve been given’r with the tools in the backyard.  It’s kinda cool when you’re able to look back at where you were and to where you are now, knowing that where you want to go, perhaps once a dream, is now within reach.

All you have to do is believe and go up.

The Bozeman Ice Festival convenes in Hyalite Canyon, December 7th – 11th.

Dont miss the 2011 fest! Come see and learn from Jeff Lowe, Henry Barber, Audrey Garipey, Barry Blanchard, Kitty Calhoun, Jim Shimberg, John Bragg, Will Gadd, Dawn Glanc, Sarah Hueniken, Lilla Molnar, Kim Reynolds, Mattie Sheafor, Conrad Anker, Kris Erickson, Whit Magro, Jack Roberts, Margo Talbot and a slew more. Clinics, demos, athlete presentations, films and more!

Information on the event can be found on the Ice Festival Facebook page.

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After a winter spent nursing a nagging shoulder injury, watching my partners get strong and send projects, I half jokingly asked a good friend if he was interested in doing some alpine climbing in Canada in May. Now, May is not known for being the primo month for the big routes; flipping through the seminal tome “Selected Alpine Routes in the Canadian Rockies,” March and September stand out as the most reliable times to send. Add to that a biblical winter and a spring snow cycle that wouldn’t quit, and things were looking precarious at best!

I’m not much of a snow climber and all the routes we were psyched on looked like gothic churches in France. Not being known for our high IQ’s, we made a decision, packed our bags, and went to sleep with a plan to get up early and head up on Andromeda Strain, a route etched in the minds of all aspiring alpine climbers due to it’s intriguing cover photo on the book mentioned above.

Upon waking, Josh had a new plan! With a decent forecast, he thought we’d better go for the real prize and head into North Twin. As you will see in the following video, that didn’t work out so great. We spent all day post-holing on skis up and over Wooley Shoulder (1,500m up and then down), then spent the rest of the day and the whole next day watching snow fall. As I mentioned earlier, 2011 was a wild spring – the snow would not stop. And so the Twin disappeared in the clouds and the rumble of avalanche filled the air. With our main objective shrouded in snow, we packed up and reversed our epic approach, this time in only 6 hours.

After an evening refueling in Jasper, we dried our gear and repacked for the Andromeda Strain – a healthy little climb on the side of the Icefields Parkway. The following morning found us tiptoeing around and over snow mushrooms, scratching up some of the worst rock I’d ever seen, and then digging through the summit cornice. We had splitter weather for the A Strain, but that was the last of it. The next few days were basically spent looking for free wi-fi.

Before we knew it we were back in Colorado and since we only got up one route in while in Canada we decided to head up and see what Hallets Peak and the Diamond could dish up… lots more snow and plenty of fun. You can look back on any climbing trip and wish you got better weather and more sends, but in the world we live in today I feel lucky to have spent the time with a great friend exploring some crazy terrain. And I’m going back, but this time I’ll remember to check the first ascent dates!

Margo

The strongest relationship in my life has been with what I can only refer to as the conscious universe. Imagine feeling the earth’s pain, getting messages from the stars, or having a conversation with the moon. These things can happen, but only if you can let go of what you have been programmed to think of as impossible…

At the age of twenty-two, I was diagnosed with Manic-Depression, or what has now become known as Bi-Polar Disorder. Anyone who has suffered from what our culture refers to as “mental illness” will tell you that living with one literally takes over your life. You spend your energy dealing with the instability in your psyche or in your life, and most of the time, both. You’re not sure if you belong on the planet or if you do, if you should bother to stay. You have a hard time relating to other people, partly because your mind works differently from theirs, but mostly because other people cannot relate to the levels of despair and anxiety that are your constant companions. After a time, you come to realize that what anchors you to this world and helps you move blocked energy is ritual, rhythm, and movement.

I learned early on that the easiest way to incorporate these essential elements into my life was through regular exercise. In those days, I had a hard time sitting still, and an even harder time reigning in the wild tendencies of my psyche. I would spend my time alternating between deep introspective periods and rigorous physical output. At that time, I was only a few years away from discovering ice climbing; the arena that would engage both aspects of my being in equal measure, and provide me with the grounding to make different, and better, choices in my life.

People with mental illness have a higher incidence of homelessness, drug addiction, and criminal behaviour. By the time I was approaching thirty, I was living year-round in my truck, trying unsuccessfully to self-medicate my depression, and supporting myself by socially unacceptable means. All of this changed when at the age of twenty-eight, I was introduced to the world of climbing waterfall ice. For the first time, I felt joy, without the aid of a mind-altering substance.

It is a well-established fact that people who suffer from depression have low levels of dopamine and endorphins in their brains. People who suffer from these low levels of “happy chemicals” require a higher level of stimulation to trigger these chemicals naturally. When my psychiatrist prescribed Lithium to help modulate the wild pendulum ride of my moods, I went home and threw the prescription in the garbage. Six years later, when I felt the surge of hormones and natural chemicals in my body as I scaled my first frozen waterfall, I knew I had found an activity that incorporated enough risk and intense physical output to help adjust my moods naturally.

Stylin' on ice!

Psychologists have studied people who are attracted to risky behaviour. They discovered that these individuals are not content with the flat line emotional state that our culture adores and promotes. Instead, these people need more intense experiences to keep them fully engaged in life. So whether I was evading suicidal tendencies or indulging my mania, ice climbing became a balancing influence on both fronts. It was the perfect outlet for the intensity that I lived with every day, but had no idea how to constructively channel. Above all, it was the only place where my mind ceased its endless onslaught and I could stay focused on the present moment. Within two years of being introduced to the sport, I had replaced my unhealthy lifestyle choices with daily doses of fresh air and sunshine. I had never felt more alive.

I found the world of ice climbing populated with others who were more or less just like me. They wanted more from everyday reality, and they were willing to endure discomfort and risk in order to get it. In discovering ice climbing, I found a tribe of people that I could connect with, even if it was simply to share my joy and passion for an activity that was altering the way I looked at myself and the world. But more importantly, ice climbing was helping to move energy through my body and increase the levels of neurotransmitters that I so desperately needed to stay on top of my moods and stay focused on the present.

No sooner had I discovered ice climbing than I began spending most of my time on the Icefields Parkway, a section of highway in the heart of the Canadian Rockies that has been billed as one of the top ten most scenic drives in the world. At 230 kilometres (143 miles) long, it connects the mountain towns of Jasper and Lake Louise. Ice climbers from all over the world know this area because it sports some of the longest and highest quality waterfall ice climbs in the world: Slipstream, Polar Circus, and Weeping Pillar.

The bottom section of Weeping Wall, where Weeping Pillar is located, is the size of a football field, and on any given winter’s day you can see several parties climbing up the different routes. During the summer months water seeps slowly down the surface of the cliff, hence its name. On my first visit to this area I felt a kinship with the name, and because the climb was only a ten minute walk from the highway, it became the ascent of choice on many an outing.

At first I top-roped Weeping Wall, following my partners up the four pitches to the snow ledge that separated the lower wall from the upper tier. Then I systematically led every line on the wall, from the easier Left-Hand route to the Central Pillar. Each time I topped out, I would wonder when the day would come where I would climb the grade six adjunct to what was becoming one of my favourite playgrounds of ice.

Bi-Polar Odyssey

It was not until ten years after I had picked up my first ice tool that I led Weeping Pillar. I had already climbed a few of the grade six test-pieces that I had dreamed about climbing. It was late season, and the south-facing climb was fading fast in the long spring days.

The morning dawned cold and clear as my partners and I approached the climb. I had known Sean Elliott from my early climbing days in Jasper, and had just met his friend David Edgar the previous month. We had met in Jasper with the aim of climbing what remained of the season’s longer ice routes, and the guys had offered to give me every crux lead of the trip. It was late March, and we had three days together. We decided to be progressive in our choices. We spent the first day out on the west highway on a beautiful climb called “Aussi Beau que c’en a l’Aire”. Day two was spent on “Curtain Call”, a climb that had always intimidated me, even on a top rope. We saved the longest and hardest route, Weeping Pillar, for our last day together.

Sean had been on the climb the week before, and he warned me about the conditions I would encounter on the crux pitch: “It’s unconsolidated, chandeliered. You’ll need to work to find good pro. I didn’t like it, but you’ll love it.” I was impressed with his confidence in my abilities. “Well”, I said, “Let’s get up there and have a look at it.”

We literally flew up the lower wall, lining up our leads so that I would end up with the final pitch. From the top of the lower wall, we hiked the twenty minutes up to the base of the upper wall. Three steep long pitches lay in front of us. Dave led his pitch and brought Sean and I up. Sean led his pitch and brought Dave and I up. My focus was on being efficient on these pitches so that I could retain as much strength as possible for what would turn out to be the hardest lead of my ice climbing career.

As soon as we reached the belay I re-racked the screws on my harness as Dave handed me the ones on his. I looked up at what I could see of the pitch, and realized that Sean’s description could not have been more accurate. The ice quality deteriorated sharply from the previous two pitches. I could see sections of sun-baked ice alternating with chandeliered ice. Sean’s voice broke into my thoughts: “I told you it was pretty sketchy.”

I finished racking my slings and screws as Dave put me on belay. “I’ll head up and see how I feel. It looks like there’s enough good ice to keep me protected in between the dubious sections.” I nodded to Dave, and he lifted his right hand to show me that he was ready to belay. And with that, I was off.

In climbing there are so many elements to trust: the gear, your partner, the medium. But all this counts for moot if you don’t trust yourself, your skills, and your judgment. Belief in self can pull you through the seemingly impossible when it rears its daunting head before you.

The beauty is to approach a climb and know very little about what you will encounter. You carry with you your skills and experience from which to draw the card that fits the hand. You compare a pitch to one you’ve climbed before: you see a challenge through the eyes of a past success.

I carefully moved my body out and to the right of the belay. Years of experience were now with me. My feelings of intimidation faded as soon as I started to climb. I became so fully engaged with the process that nothing else entered the space of my psyche. I felt at peace.

The pitch turned out to be the hardest lead I’d ever done, but I felt confident in my abilities. The ice quality was bad, the pro sketchy: it’s the kind of pitch I swore I would never lead. But I was different then, I was the girl who thought every decision she made brought her closer to demise. Now I move within a new form: still me and yet more me. I am infused with a trust of self the likes of which I have never known. I stay present, calmly within myself. I don’t enter into the dance of fear that once ruled my life.

In my twenty years of therapy, ice climbing gets top billing as the agent in my personal transformation. It is the avenue through which I deepened my relationship with the living landscape, and it provided me with a crucible for my healing journey. To this day, I feel deep joy in the simple ritual of gearing up at the base of a climb, in the rhythmic sound of my tools hitting ice, and in the balanced movement of my body moving up a frozen waterfall.

Margo’s book All That Glitter’s releases June 6th. Check her blog for all the details. Congratulations, Margo!

Jason at Bart Lake, Alaska

#1 Big Hanging Daggers
I looked down at my harness to count how many ice screws I had left. There was only three remaining. Above me a wall of vertical ice continued endlessly with the only change in relief being a shallow indentation about 40 ft. above me. It wasn’t even close to being a ledge, but it was where I needed to belay.  I took a deep breath and kept climbing. Each swing was arduous despite the ice being soft. A long day of hard climbing can do that to you. I was absolutely soaked from the first half of the pitch, most of which was directly beneath a giant hanging dagger of ice that sprayed water from its tendrils. I tried to convince myself that it was highly unlikely to fracture, however it was plainly obvious that it had broken off recently and then reformed. If that dagger chose to succumb to gravity while Ryan and I were climbing under it, it could wipe us off the wall like a pubescent teenager might flick his buggers into the warm air of a sunny afternoon.
What To Do: Hope for the Best

#2 Running Out of Protection
Behind me the sun was low on the horizon.  The sky was taking on a pleasant orange hue and alpenglow lit up the ice. We were high enough now that the mouth of the Taku River could be seen emptying out into the larger channel of South East Alaska’s Inside Passage. One lonely boat was adrift out there in the distance. It was a dramatic and beautiful sight and as much as I wanted to gaze over and enjoy it, I was wrapped up with my own demons. High above my last ice screw, trying to muster up both calmness and courage to reach the slight indentation where I would set the belay, I was struggling to keep it together. Too far from help to make a mistake, your mind does the math for you, like the voice of a nagging brother reminding you of the trouble you’ve gotten yourself in to.. You’re tired, you’re way run out, darkness is fast approaching and you’re high on some giant wall of ice in the middle of nowhere. Gulp! Swallow hard. Now breathe. You’re there now. Once that ice screw is in, you’re safe. Focus. Hold on just a little longer. Clip. Done.
“Off Belay Ryan!” I shout into the void.
What To Do: Silence the demons and stay calm!!!!

#3 It Gets Cold at Night
I’m trying hard to be psyched about completing the pitch and I am. It was a fantastic lead on my part and one I will remember for a long time. This beautiful orange light that surrounds me is rapidly disappearing. I can see it changing to a cold dark blue below. I’m soaked through, hanging from two ice screws somewhere near the top of a one thousand foot wall of vertical ice. Somewhere, not quite near enough to the top. This wall seemed to have gotten bigger as we started climbing on it, and now I fear the oncoming dark might freeze me solid. I know that once that sun drops as will the temperature.
What To Do: Deciding you should start early in retrospect is too late to do any good.

#4 Unhappy Climbing Partners
Ryan climbed into sight below, soaking wet. I lied and told him we had about sixty feet of climbing left to the top.  That seemed to lift his spirits for the moment.
What To Do: Say what you need to say

#5 Falling ice from the Leader
Ryan set off climbing the next pitch and I assumed the protective pose, hunched over just slightly while trying to hide under my helmet.  At the same time I tried to imagine pulling all of the remaining heat in my body in towards my core.  Every belay on this climb was hanging and none were sheltered from falling ice or debris.

So much for the old ice climbing adage of the belayer must stand clear of falling ice.
Ryan climbed the sixty feet I had prescribed and then yelled down that we still had a long way to go.  I wasn’t sure what that meant.  Actually I did.  I just wasn’t sure how long it meant that I would be hanging in the cold while ice bounced down the wall.   I prayed only the small pieces would hit me.  Had I been more of a believer in religion, I might have prayed for something more extravagant, like a warming hut at the summit stocked with firewood, liquor and virgins.   Instead I kept it simple.
What To Do: take up a religion, or better yet, stand out of the way if you can

#6 Dodgy rap anchors
The summit celebration was short lived.  There wasn’t much to be seen beyond the light of the headlamp and a short orange gradient on the western horizon. The alder we were tied to bent under our weight.  This last detail disconcerned me, actually all of the details were kind of disconcerning.  Fear is kind fun until you become afraid. I had asked Ryan to rappel first as I needed to have a moment to get my head together, but being left alone in the night watching the alder bounce up and down under his weight wasn’t helping.
Rappelling into the blackness was unnerving, but otherwise uneventful.  On such a steep wall, the ropes pulled smoothly and had little opportunity to tangle.
What To Do: Send your partner down first

#7 Not having a name for your first ascent
We were soon in camp sipping on Leyenda de Milagro Tequila and debating what to name the climb.  Ryan had mentioned that inspiration for route names could often be found on a bottle of liquor.  The apple does not fall far from the tree, I thought, this coming from someone who lives in Juneau. Regardless, the name was right there before us, Milagro de Plata.  The silver version of the tequila or translated to “the silver miracle”.  It was a bit grand of a title, but then so was the climb.
What To Do: Liquor makes everything sound better

Read more of Jason’s writing here on VertiCulture or on his blog, Visual Adventures.