cord

     The ice season is just about toast, maybe a couple more spring routes until the summer is in full swing. Although I didn't accomplish my perhaps too lofty goals, once again due to a trip to Ouray, some progress has been made. While I never had a go at Brain Freeze, which would have made my year, I feel like I managed to get on some challenging stuff. This one corner in particular, on the third consecutive day climbing farmed ice, I feel like I made more strides than any other day out. I had a similar experience with BMX in the not so distant past; there is no gradual increase of level of ability, it comes in spikes between long plateaus. Some days, it just clicks, and you hurry to make the muscle memories before it is too late. The thin hanging icicle and the slightly overhanging rock behind were like a miniaturized version of what I imagine when I think of ice-climbing. The pillar was a bit fragile, and the rock had just enough pick holds, it felt like climbing overhanging 5.10, but it was with picks and crampons. Absolutely my heaven. Somehow, Brittany tolerated belaying me on this little cloud nine over and over again, and even managed to snap a few pictures while doing so. When it was all said and done, she only had one good go, and by the time she could drag me away the park was almost closed. We ended up going to the middle area of whatever the hell part of the canyon we were at, and while I scrambled to make an anchor somewhere, she convinced someone to share ropes till closing. Even though I would have a very hard time turning down a rope to a woman like Brittany, I was absolutely blown away by the camaraderie between the climbers in the park. You could share a rope anywhere, and I had very few doubts about using most of the peoples anchors, especially the people peeing out in the open. Of course without fail there will be a certain group or duo of people that are not being good climbers, and making their best attempt at ruining the day of all those around them. But, this year those people were either too few or too spread out, and we hardly saw any. 

     I was glad to have three days in park, but it is on my list to go back and do some of the classic routes in the Ouray area. Brit and I were considering climbing Kennedy's gully, which I will definitely be climbing at some point in the future, but for this most recent trip, it would have been irresponsible of me to take Brittany. Actually it would have been really selfish. Sometimes I need to step back and think about how and why I got into climbing, not everyone shares the same affection for risk. 

     It is good to reflect on the evolution of your own dreams, why do some die, and why do others persist? There is no other feeling for me quite like being high above treeline, it is the same today as it was when I first set foot on Isabelle glacier with Alex Mahlum as a CU Sophomore. I was in awe of the mountains, we were on our way to summit Navajo peak in the Indian Peaks Wilderness west of Boulder, and I was on a mission despite gross inexperience. In true spring conditions, June 9th, we went up without any of the tools of survival I would bring today, mental or otherwise. We had ridiculous boots, Alex wore his father's snow boots, the kind you might use to shovel the driveway in up-state New York. I had no sunscreen, no sunglasses, wouldn't have known how to use an ice axe had it been in my possession, too little food, no way to track time, no way to weather a storm, and no plan if we became injured or benighted. You know, the type of people who get rescued and show up in the newspaper. We slogged through endless snow, the gate at the entrance to IPW was closed, so it was an extra two miles, still up there with my longer summit days. The only snow travel aid we brought were hiking (skiing) poles, I think I was the only one with gaiters.   I think the word gaper is derived from the word gaiter.   Once we finally arrived at the Niwot ridge below the cone of Navajo peak, we had no idea where to go. So fundamentally were we challenged that even the most basic route finding escaped us. We took the wrong gully, somewhere to skier's right of airplane gully, our intended route. The climbing we encountered on our chosen route required heroism beyond anything I had yet encountered in myself. The snow slope to the summit block, and the corkscrew scramble to the top were icing on the cake. My Nebraskan roots produced a perception of the mountains as insurmountable, I felt like I had just done the first ascent of everest. This transcendent experience carried us the same seven miles we came, back to the car, absolutely spent. 

      Of course the reality was that I had not climbed everest, and no heroic efforts actually took place that day. What it was, was a taste of real adventure. Shortly after, I had a straight shaft ice-axe and crampons. I bought a pair of Mad Rock mountaineering boots for $100, which were basically boards with foot grinding mechanisms glued on top. And I went for it. I summited all the highest peaks of the Indian Peaks Wilderness, minus Audubon of course because it was round on top. Some of the most character building experiences, almost all of them alone. Solo backpacking trips to alpine cirques, solo couloir scrambles. Still some of the most vivid memories I have. The time a watermelon sized rock rocketed past me while climbing Queen's way on Apache peak. The time I traversed the ridge between South and North Arapahoe peaks, in genuine spring conditions. I had found something that took hold of me, the profound connection to the wild, the addictive power of risk. I thought I had stumbled on to some big secret; I had found out how to truly live, and everyone else was a robotic sheep. 

     In order to come full circle, this would be where the beginning meets the end; these experiences and ideas still live on in the climbing I do. But, the dream has evolved since the initial inception. Our dreams grow and evolve as we do, and just as in a relationship with another person, the ones that persist will have been the ones that bring us meaning and perspective. I don't think I will ever be able to fully give up the mountains for this reason. 

Alex is opening his box of ritz crackers, I don't remember, but I'm sure I ate more than my fair share of those crackers.

The Isabelle glacier basin, with Navajo peak standing like an Incan temple on top of Niwot Ridge to the left. Apache, and Queen's way are visible on the right. When I later came here with Brittany, the lake in the foreground was much more of a lake.

Too tired to even take pictures on the summit, this was on the way down, our paths in the snow behind me are the proudest contribution to the world I had made in this moment. 

A snap of Shoshone peak on the way down, I couldn't stop looking at these walls and spires the entire time they were in view that day.

 A couple years ago I took Brittany up to the little lake below Isabelle glacier. Forced to turn around by bad weather, I had hoped to go all the way to the heart of the basin. Nonetheless, I witnessed a similar experience in Brittany that I had with Alex in the same area. Like a light switch was flipped on and we were suddenly on the same page. She had a similar experience base that I did when Alex and I set off up the Brainard lake road, and what was a nice hike for me was a real adventure for her. Our plans to travel the world together will most assuredly beget a similar experience I had when I fell in love with the mountains.