Alpine Mentors Group Development Session

Group Development Session 2016

photo Noah Mckelvin

- JD Merritt    (reposted from the AM site.)

 

From the 18-21st of April we kicked off the third round of Alpine Mentors. Eight potential mentees met with Steve House, Steven van Sickle, Colin Simon, and Buster Jesik. The previous mentees had returned as mentors. Topher Donahue was also able to meet up with us for a day.  We planned to have an “ice breaking” day rock climbing at Lumpy. The snowstorms rolled in, so we changed our plans from breaking the ice to trying to climb some of it. We got a pre-dawn start to climb mixed routes in Tyndall Gorge, skiing from the road. This was the first time in years I had returned to the beautiful Rocky Mountain National Park, or RMNP.  After often making the trip up there to climb during college, my friends and I have come to pronounce it as: “Rah-Mu-N-Puh”. The climbing there is complete with cold, ripping winds, some longer approaches, and wonderfully featured rock. In the winter the crowds subside and RMNP becomes its best self. 

Day One

The first day I was paired with Noah Mckelvin and Buster Jesik. The buttresses of Hallett were covered in fresh snow and the place was looking very alpine. We climbed a crack system left of Bullet for two pitches of (possibly unclimbed) steep cracks and roofs. It was an interesting warmup, with everything from edging to overhanging offwidths, and even a roof clearing move that necessitated cutting feet and swinging on a mossy picklock. We continued on to the top of Bullet. If this is new terrain, I propose the name Hollow Point in reference to some rattly blocks I had to trundle.

           

Day Two

The next day I was paired to climb with Kat Vollinger and Steven van Sickle. The focus of this day was shifted away from harder mixed cragging, and would be an experience in efficient movement on moderate terrain. After picking out the Spiral Route on Notchtop peak, we finished the long approach and stopped to deliberate. It was unanimously decided that the approach couloir would be an unsafe proposition after the new wind loading. We instead scrambled a wind-scoured ridge across from Notchtop, finding interesting sections of climbing on frozen moss and broken gneiss. 

Day Three

After two days in a row of predawn starts, we all took it easy on our third day and went to Lumpy Ridge for a little bit of rock climbing and a lesson in rescuing the fallen leader from Buster. This was an important review for most of us. If you’re in doubt, ask your climbing partners if they know self-rescue and go practice with them. It’s vital for trying more committing routes, and can be a sobering experience--it’s not easy. There are factors outside your control in climbing, and knowing how to help an injured partner gives you a chance to manage the situations no-one wants or expects. For those of us who are guides, this stuff is a job requirement and by now second nature. For people like me who aren’t engaged in any kind of guiding, it’s important to practice self-rescue simply to become a safer and more dependable climbing partner. 

           

Day Four

 We closed out the day on some of the best pitches at the Book. This was a fun way to close out the session, and at this point everyone was relaxing and getting in good pitches on the funky, cryptic, and polished granite of Lumpy.

 
 
 

            I was initially nervous for what seemed like a “tryout” for some sort of alpine climbing team. Instead it was more of a social experiment. After a while we started to relax. Everyone got to know each other and did some great climbing. I’m psyched be a part of the next round of Alpine Mentors, and I’m looking forward to two years in the mountains with an amazing group. 

Photo Topher Donahue

Erik Leading on Bullet

Edit---
 I'm happy to be a part of this new group. Nik, Erik, Kurt, and I were selected. I wish we could have more with us, but I'm looking forward to two years of growth and learning with these talented climbers.
 

Cirque Traverse: attempt. Proposed First Winter Ascent of Wolf's Head

Zach passes the final tower on Wolf's Head, one of the wildest positions in the Wind River Range.
The most beautiful and oddly frustrating climbing I've done in winter. Taken from the summit. Background peaks in L-R order: Pingora, Mitchell, Wind River, Haystack, Steeple, Lost Temple Spire/East temple, Warbonnett, Temple, the Warriors.

"The nullifying, defeating,
negating, repeating
Joy Of Life."   -Joanna Newsom, Time, As A Symptom

The Cirque Traverse, again, this time in February with Zach Keskinen, a friend from CC, originally from Fairbanks, AK. We had previously climbed together in the Canadian Rockies, doing Curtain Call together, and in the Waddington Range, sending "The Wadd" and Combatant. He guides on Denali most summers, and I learned some things from his solid base of winter skills. He generally dealt with the cold better than I did, and his sense of humor kept morale high.

    Last year in January I skiied nearly 20 miles across the desert just to get to Big Sandy Trailhead, the normal summer starting point, with Niels Davis. We towed toy plastic sleds from harnesses, laden down with way too much gear, adding to the suffer quotient. Our friend dropped us off, and we traversed out the lander side to Sinks Canyon after climbing Pingora. 
     This time around Zach and I were able to borrow snowmobiles from Josh Wagner, a friend from Dubois, Wy. This helped us cross around 20 miles of snow-drifted sagebrush high-desert to get to within about three miles of the wilderness boundary, at which point the machines were stuck in bottomless powder. From there we skiied around 12 miles into the cirque where we slept in a wet snow cave and got-to-it on Pingora the next morning. The perfect, flaring, smooth granite of the cirque is poorly suited to double boots and crampons. Many of the cracks were full of snow and ice, and we would have an interesting challenge ahead of us. our heavy packs weighed us down but the psyche was high. Our sleeping bags were draped over our packs all morning to dry as we simul-climbed the sunny, southeast facing headwall.

Zach leading on pingora. We got off route trying the follow the East ledges (5.2) and ended up climbing some vertical handcracks (~5.7) and joining the upper South Buttress. In the future staying on the ledges would save time.

rapping off of Pingora and down to Tiger Tower.

Summitting Tiger Tower. Photo Zach Keskinen

Zach initially trying the sidewalk in boots and pons.

Zach, opting for a much harder but more protected and crampon friendly way around the sidewalk, (initially without crampons).

The East Ridge of Wolf's head was horrendously difficult. Without rock shoes the 4th and low 5th class sections of friction climbing became insecure and impractical. Anyone who's done this route in summer knows that it's a wonderful III 5.6, and part of the 50 crowded classics list. While the route finding is hard to nail (this fucked us hard, over and over again), the route is a casual outing in summer and gets soloed regularly.
Our pace was falling below that needed to conserve our food and fuel, and beat the violent close that our weather window would experience on Friday night. We climbed way too slowly.

When we hit the sidewalk I knew this would be an "attempt". This is sortof a hilarious place to start failing.

For anyone who hasn't been on Wolf's Head, the sidewalk is a blank 30 degree slab, directly on the knife edge, about 4 feet wide, with no protection for around 60 feet. It's difficult to even rate. In summer people routinely walk across it. Similar to Thank God Ledge on Half Dome, this is non-technical climbing requiring only balance, but with a twisted world of exposure (in one direction on Half Dome, but in both directions on Wolf's Head). With rock shoes this pitch is a cheese-cake scramble. Zach opted for a much harder way around it.

Whenever the wandering route ended up on the north side of the ridge, slabs up to 50 or 60 degrees were covered with a blanket of worthless sugar snow. Each hold needed to be excavated, by which time the footholds would be covered with snow as well. We were at the tail end of our first day, and I felt a lack of fitness and a massive lack of confidence mixed climbing on smooth granite creeping in. Any fall would end with a crunch on some ledge or slab.
For this level of difficulty, I can think of few routes less suited to winter techniques.
We got off-route in numerous spots, with the piton pitch being an especially bad spot.

Perhaps it's Kelly Cordes who said it's not the crux that'll shut you down, it's the unprotected snow on slab. The hard parts usually aren't hard.

The full sense of commitment kicked in. Falling and getting hurt would mean a 3-5 day self-rescue, and this (maybe justified) feeling showed through in our shitty leading. Sections we would have soloed in summer took hours as we pitched out slabby and wandery terrain covered with sugar snow, presenting no use-able footholds for our double boots and dulled out crampons. We were under-fueled and underhydrated, and we underestimated the magnitude of difficulty of every aspect of this adventure, from getting the car stuck, to getting the snowmachines stuck, to trying to keep our down bags dry, to the weight of our packs, and the impossibility of making good time on the ridge without soloing or simuling basically everything.

To our knowledge, Wolf's head has not been climbed in winter, and our newly adjusted goal would be to make it up and over Wolf's head, down the west face, and around to the Overhanging tower col, where we could safely bail back into the cirque. Rapping the S. face Beckey route was tempting, But we knew wet slides were ripping on the lower slabs, where we would find no anchors. This provided a good excuse to bail up and over the summit.

To complete the traverse we would have needed to climb Overhanging Tower (5.2), Sharks Nose (5.6), and Block tower (5.5), followed by a convoluted 2 miles of third class terrain over the Watchtower, the Warriors, and Warbonnet, then a descent back to our skis around the beautiful face with Black Elk.  We were done with the actual crux, but the alpine equivalent of the "redpoint" crux was still to come, maybe even somewhere after the "end of the technical difficulties" (as it always fucking seems to.)

While the climbing would have been easier ahead of us, and we may have been able to carry our momentum despite deteriorating form, the weather would not hold for us and we lacked the fuel to sit out a storm without running out of water.
I got cell service on the summit of Wolf's head and we made a few phone calls to our significant others. My dad gave me an updated weather forecast, 40mph gusts and snow the next day and night.
The Bail it is.

After we were set on bailing, it was easier to let go of the ego and just enjoy the views and the place, and the company of a friend. Our senses of humor greatly improved at that point.  Having a deadline to get out of the high country strangely seemed to lower the stress level for us.

Zach chimneying past tower 2

Day one draws to a close. our bivy on Wolf's head. We dug out the side of a hanging snowfield on the north side of the knife-edge. We slept tied in. Photo Zach Keskinen

crusty hands, trying to sleep in the cold at ~12,200.

Following the 4" foot traverse in double boots, with a 30lb pack. Got a crampon stuck partway through the 35 foot runout. (we didnt bring a #4.)uncomfortable to say the least. Zach enjoyed it more than I did. Photo Zach Keskinen

    I now have come to realize how stupid it is to try to do this cruiser, beautiful, fun ridge in calendar winter. It amounts to turning something great, which many people have done casually, into something difficult for a bunch of dumb and contrived reasons, and destroying a pair of crampons (at the very least) in the process. I'm not sure whether I enjoy the added challenge of climbing in winter or if I'm just vainly grasping at the novelty of the "winter ascent". Dates are just arbitrary numbers, but conditions are real. Someone could easily do this in an especially dry winter, or right around the equinoxes, maximizing the use of rock shoes and bare hands and minimizing weight in the pack, but I'm less interested in the distinction of "winter" than I am in the challenge of climbing in full conditions.
     That said, we both learned a lot about efficiency and technique when trad-mixed climbing in this type of moderate terrain. It was certainly strange to be so humbled by such a "classic trade route", but this didn't preclude the trip from being a good one.

I'll stop questioning this in time, and if the snow-pack settles and the weather calms next year I'm sure I'll try it again. I'm still obsessed. This year we had a great trip and made some progress.

Alpenglow on Bollinger peak (not a part of the traverse.)

If anyone knows about the winter history of the peaks here, drop me a comment. I've asked around  quite a bit and haven't found anything. Specifically most interested in whether wolf's head or pingora have had winter ascents, and if so via which routes?

Pingora, Winter

All  Photos: Nielsen Davis

Guest writer Niels Davis, take it away.

Fun with Sleds:

Warbonnet

It seems each time I go to the Cirque of the Towers, I get the most exhausted that I’ve ever been. After a trip JD Merritt (’16) and I took this January, The Cirque has been cemented in my mind as a place where I continually discover new personal limits. Our plan was to drive as far as we could and ski the remainder to attempt the Cirque Traverse however, things did not go exactly as planned.
    One notable moment on the drive in was the sighting of a mountain lion bounding through the snow away from us after we came over a hill and surprised it. It was incredible to have the chance to see such a beautiful animal in motion. So much more graceful than us spending the afternoon repeatedly digging our car out of the snow and then getting stuck almost immediately afterwards. Eventually, we decided to abandon the heat and shelter and we turned to skis. Our friend Gus Griffin (’15) drove back to go ski with his cousin in Jackson and we skinned off into the dark with our equipment loaded into two kid’s sleds we picked up at the hardware store that morning. Concerning the sleds, some lessons need to be learned the hard way.

Getting stuck for the N-th time. This is where we started skiing.

by not making friends with any 'slednecks', I have gone and shot myself in the foot.  We skiied nearly 20 miles through flat desert on snowmobile tracks.  Yes, there is an easier way.

the end of another short, cold day

    The 12 miles we had estimated to the Cirque became 28 or so and after two-and-a-half days of skiing through the desert and woods we arrived in the Cirque slightly more tired than we expected. Despite the warm, sunny days, the nights were cold and our sleeping bags already wet so we opted for a snow cave. Due to the increasing winds signaling the closing of our weather window, and our physical condition we decided the Cirque Traverse was out of the picture. The next day we waited for the sun and set off for the South Buttress of Pingora. We reached the base around 10:30 a.m. and warmed our feet in the sun before switching to mountain boots and scrambling the initial portion of the climb. JD set off up the first pitch switching to rock shoes halfway through. He led the next two pitches in the rock shoes while I took photos and followed in mountain boots. The granite was warm enough in the sun and we were able to climb without gloves. The K-cracks held minimal ice due to the southerly aspect. I led the final snow gully up to the summit and belayed JD. This was the golden moment of the trip. The sun shone through and we fist pounded and looked out at the rest of the Wind River Range, particularly eyeing the snowy East Ridge of Wolf’s Head and the rest of the traverse that had evaded us this round.

Switching boots on the first real pitch.

Leading the left K-crack.

Following Niels' lead on the last pitch.

We rappelled as the sun set, leaving a few nuts and some cord on two instances when our rope fell short of the rap stations. The wind began to pick up and we were glad not to be on the ridge.
(editor's note: the storm got fucking heinous a couple of hours later, that night.)

 We hiked out the next day, taking the alternate 24 mile route back to Sink’s Canyon in Lander. As we admired the lesser-travelled Cirques to the east of the Cirque of the Towers, snow began to fall and visibility lessened causing us to skin over the wrong pass. We bushwhacked uphill while our sleds caught on each tree and bush for a few hours. As we gained the ridge, we realized that we had turned out of the canyon too early leading us to the wrong location. Nightfall came and we decided to call it a day. In the morning we realized that where we had expected a nice pass there was another cirque––a welcome sight in instances other than this one. That day we found the right pass and were determined to make it to Lander. For a long moment we travelled on a frozen creek, where JD lost a ski through the ice and had to get a little wet to retrieve it just an hour before sunset. We skied through the dark and eventually found the trail that would take us back to Lander. It was nice to let down our guard for a while and pound out a few miles, though we soon found ourselves rambling around in the woods as zombies after losing the trail. One of the sleds had broken in the front and began shoveling snow so we rigged it fishtail forward, which was a little more efficient. By the end of the trip it was only half of a sled, mostly held together by the cord used to lash our gear to it. We begrudgingly resigned ourselves to the tent and wet sleeping bags once more. The next morning we skied five or six more miles to the trailhead where JD’s brother met us. We drove back to his house, having completed an epic journey, and ate a lot of eggs and waffles. That night we drove back to Colorado Springs in order to make it back for school the next day. We kept ourselves awake with long, typical talks about relationships and the meaning of life, both almost exclusively illustrated with climbing analogies.

Wolf's Head

It had been textbook type-two-fun. As I sit here now amidst piles of books, the feeling in my sore legs brings me back to the final post-holed steps to the summit of Pingora and the storm clouds brewing over Warbonnet and Lizard Head. All in all we skied roughly sixty miles, managed to get a climb in, and received an incredible glimpse into the Wind River Range in winter. For now, we are satiated.

Summary:
Pingora, Winter Ascent, Cirque of the Towers, Wind River Range, WY.
South Buttress, K-Cracks 5.8

an untold amount of suffering while tied to sleds.