As featured on Backcountry Magazine’s “Mountain Skills” video series. For more videos, check out their site.

Half ropes on funky ice, Maple Canyon

Understanding the Labels
When shopping for ropes you will notice a variety of “technical specs” included by the manufacturer. By understanding what these numbers mean, you can better understand how a rope will perform and if it is going to be a good choice for you and your climbing. First, every dynamic climbing rope commercially sold should be marked with CE and or UIAA. This indicates that your rope has passed a set of controlled safety tests. Along with these markings, most companies will include an impact force rating along with dynamic and static elongation numbers. It is well known that the stretch in our rope plays a major role in our safety system by absorbing energy in a fall, thus reducing forces on our gear and our bodies. A lower impact force number means less energy will be transferred to your protection. This can be important if you are climbing in areas where gear is less reliable such as ice, soft rock or thin gear. However, while a low impact force will increase the chances of your gear holding, it normally translates into higher elongation numbers meaning more rope stretch and a longer fall. So, for higher-end climbing or ice climbing, choosing a rope with a low Impact force rating may be a good idea, but for general sport climbing and top roping it may be unnecessary or even inappropriate.

Manufactures also often include a “UIAA falls held” number which may seem astonishingly low at first glance. However, this test essentially creates a “factor 2″ fall scenario (the worst case scenario where you fall twice the distance of the amount of rope out) and is repeated until the rope breaks. Since “normal” climbing falls typically register below a fall factor 1, this number is not necessarily representative of how many falls your rope can handle. Nonetheless, this number will give you insight into the durability of your cord. For example, take an 11mm rope that is rated to 16 falls or a 9.2mm rated to 6 falls and guess which one will last longer.

Topping out in Zion, a great place for the tag line and single rope system

The Single Rope
This is the most common type of climbing rope used and there are seemingly endless choices out there, so let’s take a closer look at some of the options. Probably the most obvious difference between ropes is the diameter. Don’t quote me on this but as of now, I believe the smallest diameter single rated rope is a slim 8.9mm. For all the light and fast junkies this sounds like a dream come true, but keep in mind light doesn’t always mean right. A skinny rope will not be as durable, will have more stretch and won’t work with every belay device. If you are looking for a rope to use after you do that three hour approach or want the lightest rope out there for your hard red-point and durability is a secondary concern, then go with a skinny cord. However, if you want a rope to work projects, use on big walls, top rope on or last a full season, you may consider something a little beefier.

Half Ropes and Twin Ropes
While very popular in the UK and Europe, the double rope system hasn’t quite taken off in North America. However, once understood and practiced, a double rope system can be very advantageous in certain situations. First off, the difference between the half rope (marked Ω) and twin rope (marked ?) is while both ropes are intended be used in pairs, the half ropes will be clipped independent of one another while the twin rope will be clipped together through protection. Because of this, half ropes will be better suited to wandering pitches and can virtually eliminate rope drag if used correctly. Also, because you are only clipping one rope, the half ropes have very low impact force ratings which will be nice on less than ideal gear placements. Furthermore, one half rope is considered acceptable for glacier travel.

Twin ropes in alpine terrain; North Face of the Eiger

Twin ropes, while similar to half ropes, tend to be lighter and more user friendly for first time users. Since you are treating the two ropes as one, it is easier to belay with twin ropes and twists in the system rarely become an issue. These ropes also have quite low impact force ratings making them a popular choice for ice climbing and alpine climbing.

The Tag Line
While North American climbers may be less familiar with double rope systems, especially on rock routes, everyone seems to be familiar with a tag line. Here, I mean leading a pitch on a single rope and trailing a skinnier rope, which can then be used to haul gear or rappel. I think this is a great system if you are climbing a route at your limit. It allows you to climb on a single rope (often easier to clip and easier to work a route with) and then haul up any extra gear, shoes or water in a small pack. Therefore, you don’t carry any extra weight on your lead. While this can be a great system it is important to keep some things in mind.

A skinny trail line is compact and light, but I find they blow around in the wind more and get caught more readily on flakes, branches etc. Also, most (if not all) trail lines are not intended for lead climbing, so if your lead line gets stuck on a rappel you could find yourself in a very tricky situation without a suitable rope to climb back up and get it. Finally, an ultra thin tag line will require a different system to rappel on than normal ropes. Because of the large diameter difference, you will need to set up your tag line as a retrieval cord rather than simply tying the two rope ends together as you would on a normal rappel. Due to these reasons, I personally like to trail a twin or half rope instead of an ultra thin cord. While this does weigh more, it gives me some security if my lead line gets stuck or damaged – you can always tie into the middle of a twin rope and lead on it safely.

Nothing beats sport climbing in the sun!

IMO
We’ve come to the point now that where I get to share my personal preferences. For rock, I like a rope in the 9.4 neighborhood for higher end routes (the Blue Water Dominator being my favorite lately) and something like 9.7 or 9.9 for everyday cragging. For routes requiring multiple rappels to descend, I prefer to take a set of half ropes opposed to a tag line. However, if I’m trying a route at my limit, I’ll go with a tag line and typically bring a twin rope for that. For ice climbs I like half ropes and in the mountains for alpine climbing I’ve been leaning towards twin ropes because of the weight savings and how compact they are. If you are using your rope in winter, pay the extra money for the dry treatment. Also, think about where you will use your rope most and choose a length accordingly; a 70m is great in Indian Creek, but too much rope to carry if your Alpine climbing in the Alps.

Of course not everyone wants to buy multiple sets of ropes and not everyone has the need for them either. If your climbing interests are diverse and take you through the four seasons I would suggest going with a mid-diameter single rope (9.9ish) and a set of half ropes all 60m long. This will give you a lot of options and allow you to pursue any type of climbing safely and in style.

For more videos on how to perform different backcountry skills, visit our IFMGA page here on VertiCulture.

While growing up, I had heard of the infamous Eiger North Face, but I’ll confess, it was mostly just some mythical mountain that I knew nothing about.  While in college I remember a friend telling me they had visited Switzerland and looked “down” on this face (presumably from the tunnel window).  Being a climber, I casually mentioned how I wanted to go climb that one day – still knowing nothing of what my statement entailed.  I was quickly told it was impossible and I would never be able to do it… “You don’t understand”, exclaimed my friend, “there is rock, snow, ice, even waterfalls on this face; it is just unclimbable.”  While I nodded in agreement, this was a challenge I could not ignore and in my mind it was settled - I would go climb the Eiger North Face…someday.

Three and a half years ago a friend and I flew to Switzerland to attempt the Eiger.  We had heard the conditions were great, so we bought last minute plane tickets and set off.  As it turned out, the conditions “were” great, but it had been snowing non-stop for nearly three weeks now and conditions were no longer good. While we did start the climb, our attempt was short lived.  We were turned around only an hour into our climb by deep unconsolidated snow. Nonetheless, the hook had been set and for the past three and a half years this face has always occupied a place somewhere in the back of my mind.

Eiger

Since our attempt I have read a lot of the classic literature written about the face, seen the recent movies produced about the mountain and to top it off, kept a link on my favorites page to the North Face webcam.  I guess to some degree I was getting a little obsessive about this climb.  I had spent plenty of time in Europe over the past few years, but this climb seemed to always elude me – good conditions, but no time to climb or vice versa, bad weather, or no partner.   I had even guided the Eiger on a couple of occasions via different ridges, but there was always something keeping me from a second try at the North Face.

Last week however, I got my chance.  I had time off, was well acclimatized and fit after a summer of guiding, the weather looked perfect, and a call to Grindelwald revealed the conditions looked great – although nobody had been up there to confirm.  I was able to convince a fellow American guide and friend of mine, Tim Connelly, to head over and have a go.  I’ll admit I wasn’t entirely optimistic and even threw an extra bag into the car with some sport climbing gear just in case we got shut down.

We left Chamonix at 4am with plans to catch the first train that morning and exit just before the train enters the famous Eiger tunnel.  From this position it is an easy 30 minute approach and then you’re standing at the base of  perhaps the largest face in Europe.  We planned on climbing the original 1938 first ascent route in two days spending a night at the infamous “Death Bivouac”.  Despite some wrong turns on our drive to Grindelwald, we managed to catch the first train at around 7:30 and by 9am we were starting the climb.

Tim and Adam on the summit

If I could describe the route in one word I would have to call it an Odyssey.  Upon hiking to the base you are greeted with a couple of memorial plaques – not the most comforting of omens – and thus the journey begins.  The route finding initially is very tricky and you meander through lines of weakness up some improbable looking terrain.  Initially the rock was dry but quickly snow and ice appeared on ledges and we were forced to wear crampons.  The first landmark on the route is the “Difficult Crack,” and arriving here wasn’t as straight forward as we had expected.  In fact,  we did quite a bit of climbing just to arrive at this feature and some of it seemed even “more difficult”…?

From here the route finding becomes more straight forward and we progressed upwards almost as if climbing back through history or climbing through the pages of Heinrich Harrer’s “The White Spider.”  We passed many of the famous pitches and landmarks including: the Hinterstroiser Traverse, first snow field, the Swallows Nest, the Ice Hose, second snow field and then finally arriving at the Death Bivouac.  We enjoyed excellent conditions on the face and the climbing was never too difficult, but hard enough to keep your attention.

The night we spent on the face was very special for me and something I will remember for a long time.  Spending a night on one of the most historic faces in the world complete with all the triumph and tragedy associated with it, was a very touching experience.  The weather was perfect and we watched a great sunset, ate some soup, and slept at one of the best bivy spots I have ever enjoyed.

The second day began with a traverse into the Ramp where the real climbing began.  We did several pitches up this feature involving a lot of mixed climbing, awkward squeezes, and some pretty scrappy ice climbing.  This section of the climb reminded me of Colorado’s well known ice climb “Bird Brain Boulevard,” except this was really just the start of our day.  Next we climbed up through the Brittle Ledges and Brittle Crack to the notorious “Traverse of the Gods.”  I had heard a lot about this section of the route and I’ll be honest I was a bit nervous about this part of the climb – a 150m snow and rock traverse which offers tons of exposure and very little in the way of protection.

Luckily, this section, while exciting, was never very difficult and allowed us relatively quick passage to the famous “white spider” and finally the exit cracks.  Again, the upper part of the route has a reputation for some difficult climbing and we were not let down.  The “Quartz Crack,” while short, proved to be quite a challenge – rock climbing, ice climbing, dry-tooling even a little aid all used in about 20 feet – you’ve got to love alpine climbing.

Upon exiting the “Exit Cracks” you’re soon on the upper snowfields, which take you to the Mitteligi ridge and then to the summit.  The final summit ridge is quite spectacular and certainly one of the most beautiful sections of ridge found anywhere in the Alps.  We spent some time on the summit taking in the view and taking in the route we had just done.  The Eiger is home to so much history and after climbing the face, following in the footsteps of so many legends, it is hard not to feel in some small way like part of the history yourself.  While I will never know what it was like to climb in 1938, I’ll be forever humbled by the courage, determination, and talent displayed by its first ascent team.  This climb is one that has withstood the test of time and an adventure that I will always remember.

Read more of Adam’s stories here on VertiCulture and on his own site, Into The Mountains.

Find more articles and videos from our IFMGA Test Team guides here on VertiCulture and on our youtube channel.

Bertrand enjoying some crack climbing on the Grand Capucin

In the guiding business, summer is a busy time.  The old adage “make hay while the sun shines,” is a motto that most guides I know live by.  It is not uncommon to work 20-30 days straight or even more.  Nonetheless, no matter what the profession, we all need a break and some time off.  Some people like sandy beaches and umbrellas in their drinks, others prefer cozy cabins and reading by a fireplace.  Ironically, my “get away” from guiding in the mountains usually involves going back into them…

Our trip began at the Torino Hut on the Italian side of Mont Blanc.  Located at around 3,600m this hut allows quick access to the Grand Capucin one of the most acclaimed formations for rock climbing in the Massive.  After a good Italian meal and restful night of sleep, we set out at sunrise intent on climbing “Voyage Selon Gulliver”, a 400m route up the heart of the formation.  This route was a break through when first established in 1982 and is still said to be one of the most classic lines in the range.  Thanks to the lift systems in the Alps, the approach to our route was a mere one hour stroll across the glacier.  We left the hut right at dawn despite high winds and cold temps.  Upon arriving at the south facing wall however, the wind had died and the sun was already warming up the orange granite.

Happy on the summit, but more excited for the food in Italy

Indeed this route was a classic.  A mix of face climbing connecting brilliant crack systems takes you more or less right up the center of this magnificent feature.  This “mostly free” style is something I’ve grown increasingly fond of especially during the summer when my legs seem to grow and my arms shrink.  In the end, who cares, as long as you’re enjoying yourself?  In the end, that is exactly what we did.  We moved quickly up our route and made it back well before the last lift.  Yet, had I known this route was merely a warm up for what was to come I probably would have tried to slow the day down and miss the last lift.

After our climb we enjoyed a cold beer and discussed the following day’s options.  Bertrand had heard of a route on the Italian side of the range, “Etoiles Filantes” on the Tour des Jorasses.  This route, located  on the southern shoulder of the famous Grandes Jorasses,  was likened to the Grand Capucin but much more remote and “sauvage” (wild).  He figured that since I am American, the long approach and likely no crowds would be right up my alley.  Maybe I’m getting soft, I’m not sure, but there is a reason why I spend so much time in the Alps.  I really like to spend my time climbing rather than approaching and the lift infrastructure in the Alps makes this very easy to do.  Nonetheless, after another cold adult beverage I was easy to convince and, sometimes,  it is good to approach the old fashioned way; by foot.

Day two didn’t begin quite as leisurely as our fist day had: our predawn start was followed by a 1700 vertical-meter gain to reach the base of the route .  The approach is steep and involves some interesting glacier navigation and, to top it off, one of the biggest seracs in the entire massif looms above the valley you ascend.  Three and a half hours later we were at the base of the route and the real fun was only just beginning:  450 meters of granite awaited us.

The route we chose for the day was indeed a classic, but also quite sustained.  This route, established by Michel Piola, perhaps one of the most prolific route setters of all time, takes a brilliant line up this majestic feature connecting crack systems via some very improbable slabs. Piola is known for his mastery of slab climbing and it seemed that he was in his prime when he created this gem.  Bolts that were placed were done so quite conservatively, especially for Alps standards, that the climbing was quite engaged and committing.

Sometimes while rock climbing, things just work out; the last piece of gear left on your rack is precisely the size you need, you find that key hold right in the nick of time, or in this case, I ended up with the pitches that suited me best with no premeditation (read: more gear, less scary).  As it turned out on this route, Bertrand ended up with the hard slab pitches while I managed to get the hard crack pitches.  Fortunately for me, I enjoy crack climbing and probably have the most experience with that, but on the other hand, nobody likes hard slab climbing.  Bertrand, however, pulled off the difficult slab pitches flawlessly and our day went very smooth.

We managed to get up and down the route and back down to Courmayeur in time to enjoy another nice Italian meal.   After our 14 hr day and logging nearly 900m of granite in the past two, it was time for Bertrand to go back to work.  Myself however, I still had two more days before I started working and the weather was still beautiful.

After a rest day, my wife joined me for one final mission.  We chose a 300m route “La Reprise” on a formation known as the Flamme de Pierre noted as being a stunning crack climb.  Our day began with a train ride and then required about an hour and half approach complete with descending a long series of ladders, crossing a glacier, ascending a long series of ladders, some steep hiking, an alpine meadow and a partridge in a pear tree.   Once again, the granite in the Massif did not disappoint.  The climbing was continuously steep and sustained up beautiful corner and crack systems with a backdrop that could not be beat.  And, to top it off, there were no arguments ending in shouting or crying during our climb (okay, only someone who has climbed with their spouse will find this amusing).

We intentionally only bought one way train tickets as we figured we would miss the last ride down.  However, after rappelling back to our packs, we had exactly one hour to catch the train so decided to give it a try.  With a combination of running and speed descending/ascending ladders we arrived sweaty, tired but  just in time to catch the last train.  A fitting end to a brilliant week of exploring some of the best granite in the range, physically exhausted but mentally refreshed to start work the following day.

You can read more about Adam and learn about his trips on his website Into The Mountains.

Every time I drive into the North Cascades National Park I read a park sign that says “The North Cascades-The Alps of America.” This has always struck a spiteful chord in my dark side and I have dreamt of vandalizing this sign to read “The Cascades of America”. The Cascades are my home, and to me there is no comparison. But this year, to see what all the pother was about, I set off for two months taking advantage of new work opportunities in the French Alps.

As an avid traveler, the basic nuances of wandering the western world are not novel. So trying to arrange a ride from the Geneva airport to Chamonix, France with a two-word French vocabulary was entertaining. But what had my attention most was standing in the back of the line for the tram that would take me to the summit of the Aiguille de Midi. Culture shock sunk in. Taking mental notes of my observations; small petite alpine packs, climbers in harnesses, ice axes in hand with neatly coiled rope ready for the instant access to the 3000m alpine zone. It only took a few minutes to quickly learn the European etiquette with regards to your pack, crampons, and axe in the crowded tram-line. The French tram operators had no problem suggesting the correct drill. It was as if we were all in line for an amusement ride for adults. The sharp reality: this “ride” was real and would poise you at a turnstile gate leading to the alpine 10,000ft higher than you were 30 minutes prior.

Mount Maudi and the Kuffner ridge gained via a main coulior at the base of the buttress

I was not in the North Cascades anymore. The differences were obvious. The incredible access was coupled with a population of well-adept alpinists represented in large numbers. The line was heavy with guides awarded credentials by the International Federation of Mountain Guides Association (IFMGA) or Union International Des Associations De Guide De Montagne (UIAGM), the EU equivalent. These high-ranking guides are easily recognized by the metal pin on their lapel, the badges sewn onto their shoulder and pack, and their acutely well-organized and mint gear selection. This badge itself has significant meaning for this culture. To become a professional guide in countries that honor the tradition of IFMGA standards takes dedication. First, to achieve aspirant status that allows a guide to work under a fully-certified guide-mentor, at least four years are spent mastering ski mountaineer, rock, and alpine guiding. This is followed by another two years completing exams and work requirements before achieving full-guide status. The tram line reeked of this tradition.

Mountain access like this began nearly one hundred years ago in the French, Italian, and Swiss Alps. The history of guiding is even older. It was here that alpinism and mountain guiding were created. By the looks of the terrain, I began to understand why. I was in line equally for the guiding tradition and culture as I was for the ride up the Midi into these mountains.

Mark mid-transition on the Midi-Plan Traverse-Photo Dylan Taylor

The French Alps lean over Chamonix, cutting the skyline with large granite massifs laden with icefalls and towering needles. Glaciers gouge valleys for kilometers, dividing the towers who each pronounce their independence and unique character. Massive monoliths draw your eye in. The famous Grand Dru belonging to the Aiguille Verte, the Grepon, the Midi, the three summits of Mount Blanc, and all the serrated gendarme ridges that connect each feature capture your attention and unfold a potential lifetime of alpine objectives.

As I rode the cable car up from Chamonix into the alpine and over the North face of the Aiguille de Midi, the dihedrals and crack systems, including the Frendo Spur first climbed in 1941 were easy to pick out. The Frendo is a 3700ft 5.8 rock rib that leads to the upper ice faces and rock tower shouldering the Midi and is a test piece of any aspiring young alpinist. It is prominently seen from Chamonix center and summons you while you safely sip your draft beer in the square bellow.

The reason I came to Chamonix was to take advantage of mentorship and apprenticeship. There are hundreds of fully qualified guides who have graduated from an international certification system of the Alps IFMGA or UIAMG. These guides have spent their careers taking clients into the far reaches of these ranges. As an American IFMGA aspirant, it was this group of men and woman who I looked to for help reaching the next stage of becoming a full guide.

IMG Guide Sheldon Kerr busting mixed moves during the Traverse de Rochford

I didn’t focus on Alps test-piece objectives, but instead on routes with good guiding problems for me to negotiate and train on for my AMGA alpine guide’s exam this September 2010. My training goals led me to some of today’s classic alpine routes that historically, in the early 1900’s, were some Europe’s premier alpine achievements.

The Kuffner Ridge, also know as the Frontier Ridge, on Mount Maudi was first climbed by Mortiz von Kuffner with Alexander Burgener, Josef Furrer, and a porter in 1887 and is one of these classic routes. This ridge is a complex buttress of exposed ridge and towers holding an entire days-worth of moderate mixed climbing and snow spines.

With beta from IFMGA guides Mike Powers and Richard Mansfield, my two America ex-pat partners Matt Anderson and Dan Protz, and I set out for the climb. After a quick breakfast by headlamp in the empty cafeteria of the Italian Torino hut, we crossed 2 kilometers of glacial neve under moonlight back into France, approaching the base of Mount Maudi. The peak towered over us. Storm clouds began to build over the summit of Mount Blanc, an indicator for oncoming foul weather. The weather was moving from the back of my mind to the front as the darkness veiled the peaks true scale. I began to feel the anxiety manifested by the unknown. If we climbed high on the route it would be difficult to retreat anywhere but up. But, without much hesitation, I committed to the up.

We crossed the bergschrund and gained the sharp ridge via the 850ft access couloir running rock and ice protection along the way. Simul-climbing this classic alpine ice couloir in one long pitch set a tone of security and speed for the day.

Beautiful, unforgettable granite

The terrain was already classic and kept getting better. Corniced snow ridges, moderate granite rock climbing, and easy ice all combined in a rolling gauntlet ridge crest with an electric view of the Italian side of the Mount Blanc massif. My favorite parts of the route were the exposed corniced snow ridges. I felt alive with the team perched on its crest. The French use an appropriate metaphor for this feature relating it to the furry tuft of hair that sticks up on the back of mountain goat, giving the mountain a living spirit. These ridges are difficult to protect and it is assumed among partners that you throw yourself off the opposite side in the event of a fall. This method of protection is a challenging but somewhat affective practice though not entirely fool proof. Two Italian climbers met their fate on this exact feature 24 hours after our ascent. A fatal slip caused by a collapsed cornice led to grave results. Giving plenty of respect to the spines, I knew that we were not immune to a similar fate.

Another classic I climbed, the Midi-Plan traverse, is a ridge run on the skyline from the Aiguille de Midi to the Aiguille de Plan and back; glaciers, knife blade snow spines, and buttresses of 5.8 hand cracks on perfect granite. This takes a full day of rope wrangling and dozens of transitions from pitch climbing to rappelling to short roping and back. Returning to the tram before the lift shuts down for the evening is the main motivator for moving efficiently. This is understandably one of the reasons people from this land are efficient alpinists.

I mock-guided this objective with U.S. IFMGA guide Dylan Taylor while he played client. This is common practice among guides who are in training mode and it allows us the opportunity to critique each other on potential improvements and correct exposure to unnecessary risk.

Somewhere on the East face of the Mount Blanc du Tacul

While all my climbs helped train me for my goals, most of my mentorship happened while on Mount Blanc. I was able to work several trips with UIAGM and IFMGA guides from France, Switzerland, Britain, Italy, Slovenia, and the U.S. They treated me like a little brother. Aspirants, I discovered, are somewhat of a commodity compared to the number of working full-guides. Full-guides were extremely eager to help out an underdog guide, remembering their own struggles while learning the craft. And, on this objective I felt right at home. The terrain was reminiscent of the glaciers and elevations of my home mountain, Mount Rainier. The guiding, conditions, and client profile for this peak were somewhat old-hat and made the transition into a new venue much easier. At the end of most days, I would sit with mentor guides and debrief the event on ways we could do things better. This evaluation is an extremely valuable moment for the aspirant, and is how development can occur.

The most memorable venue I visited during my stay was the Aiguilles de Envers up valley on the Mer de Glace glacier. Two cirques with massive granite towers resemble that of the Sierra. Grade IV and V rock spires of impeccably steep granite jet 2500ft out of the glacier. The hut is positioned below the steep, massive towers 10 min away from where you start roping up for the 18 pitch, 5.10 rock route.

Matt and Dan simulclimb goat's back spines of Kuffner Ridge; Italy to the right, France on the Left

Nothing during my stay topped climbing splitter granite cracks a thousand feet off the deck with a valley glacier sweeping bellow and the Grandes Jorasses dominating the horizon. Several of the climbs lead to classic hypodermic granite needle summits provoking disbelief. This is a place I will certainly travel back to in the future.

Overall, my time in the Alps was incredibly educational. I was exposed to many historical aspects of Alpinism and what it means to the local valley. Being immersed in the alpine and exploring what the French Alps have to offer, I progressed in my own guiding and took one step closer to becoming a full IFMGA guide.

One thing that I found missing during my adventures was something I experience in the Cascades; serenity. Coming home, scaling to the crest of the North Cascades, and looking over glaciated vistas of unclimbed rock was a breath of fresh air. We are spoiled to have this resource. We are lucky to be living in the heart of true wilderness. The North Cascades are untouched by European standards; no trams, no people, no villages and with a culture and tradition that is still being developed. Because I enjoy this wild place so much, I don’t want to see all the traditions of Europe become a standard here is the U.S.

Europe has figured out, though, how to professionalize guiding as an industry and into a legitimately well respected trade. Professionalizing the mountain guiding standards and simultaneously deepening the traditions of guiding with our U.S. climbing culture will create a better, safer experience for my clients, my co-workers, and myself in the beautiful places we call home.  I encourage you to look into the IFMGA standard by going to the American Mountain Guides Association (AMGA) web site and educate yourself about the importance of guide standardization and how this might affect you as a consumer. Good luck and see you in the Alps!

We wish Mark the best; he is currently taking is IFMGA exams! You can read more about Mark’s adventures on his blog and here on VertiCulture. Check back this fall when Mark, Graham Zimmerman and Hayden Kennedy head to the Khumbu Valley to take on new objectives there.

In 2008, this journey began with Evan, Craig, and those fickle weather gods…

Never admit defeat! Evan, Craig, and Jeremy went back for more in July.
And then back again in August.
Third time’s the charm?

When the mountains give you lemons, make lemonade at Man Camp.

Read about more of Evan’s escapades into the great playgrounds of Canada, south of the border, Europe, and everywhere and anywhere else he can find stellar rock and snow on his blog.