New Blog...

I'm not killing this blog yet, but I'm posting on a new blog.  Check out my posts here on Cristina Mastrangelo's blog.

http://www.livestellar.blogspot.com/

I wasn't responsible enough to have my own.  =)

Marathon

I'm a climber, not a runner. Sure I can slog up multi-day approaches to climbs or summit glaciered peaks, but usually I'm rewarded with accomplishment or a sweet climb at the end. Running for pleasure? Running just to run? uhm.... check please.

About 3 weeks ago my sister announced that she is going to run a half-marathon at the Long Branch Half Marathon, in Long Branch, New Jersey. My Brother in Law has run it a few times, and my aunt has run it 3 times. They invited her to join the escapade, since she's been looking for a good way to break down barriers and get in shape. She was hesitant at first, but after I said that I'd run it with her if she got in shape and trained for it, she agreed whole-heartedly.

But this means that I have to now run a half-marathon in May.

There is no sweet climb at the end... maybe just some GU packets and a t-shirt. And this is fun?

Breaking it all down, the good part is that I get to spend time with family during the event, and get in better cardio shape.

But the best part is that I get to watch my sister transform into an athlete again, take pride in her athletic abilities, looks, and health... something that she's wanted for many years.

Hell, I'd fly to Kenya and run a full marathon in summer for her to have that.

But, lucky for me, I can just run in New Jersey in May.

My sister and I ran together yesterday for the first time since she chased me around the yard when we were kids. It was great to see her try, struggle, and then step it up to push through. I'm incredibly proud of her and can't wait to see her skinny ass and big smile cross that finish line in May.

East Coast...

I'm spending some time back on the East Coast for the next week or so. It's a welcome change, as its giving my body a chance to recover from winter training, soak up some good food and spend time with family, old friends and new. I had an especially good evening with my father and sister at a restaurant last night that specializes in locally acquired food. It was incredible, and thanks to dad for paying the tab!

I'm heading to my old stomping grounds in Vermont on Friday, and hopefully getting some climbing in up there, either on icicles, or at my old climbing gym haunt.

In the past few weeks, trips have been planned, changed, canceled and created. Many things are up in the air, but one thing is for sure... my van is complete for the season and ready to travel. After Vermont, I'm hoping to be heading south for warmer stone, as I haven't climbed on real rock since Christmas Eve. The weather in Oregon has been atrocious, and I'm hoping SoCal is due for some high pressure.

Thanks to Bruce, John, Harry, Tony and Beth (a few of the East Coast climbing crew) for the company at the climbing gym here. It's good to always have a good belay wherever you go. (And good people to eat dinner with after...)

In an effort...

In an effort to provide more "pizazz" to this humorous attempt at a blog, I've added some photos of a recent climbing day at Smith Rock taken by photographer Tyler Roemer. (www.tylerroemer.com)





Go Dog Go, left dihedrals, Smith Rock State Park. ahhh, gotta love fall conditions.

Forever Ago

It's been a long time, but now that winter is approaching and my time will be spent traveling and adventuring, I'll try and keep this thing updated.

Since my last post....

Joshua Tree Bouldering and Cracks
Red Rocks shenanigans
Bishop Bouldering
Owens River Gorge sport clippin'
City of Rocks Idaho splitter Granite
North Umpqua River, Oregon towers
Leavenworth, WA mountain biking and climbing
Mt. Hood 'pine antics
Bugaboos - big balls on big walls (something like that)
Smith Rock sends
Was the cover photo for the new Smith Rock Climbing guide
Lost the spot as the cover of the Smith Rock Climbing guide =)
Route setting at the New Gym in Bend, InClimb
Bought a Van
Lots of New friends and re-acquaintances with old.

I'm skipping things that have happened like I'm skipping bolts, my apologies if your trip with me missed the list.

Like I said, I'll try and keep this going. More photos, stories and updates coming.

Lost Rocks, California

Mike Rougeux and I had decided a few weeks back to take a trip South to explore the climbing of Northern California. With a bunch of rumors "spraying" around about proud beach bouldering and long endurance test-pieces on fresh Limestone, we decided to check it out. The area is relatively untraveled, which only added to the excitement of the trip. With a hand-drawn map on the back of an envelope from one of my friends and a small ball-point pen guidebook that did little more than get us to the coast, we set out to see what Humboldt County, CA had to offer.

Driving south at break-neck speeds, weaving in and out of the largest redwood trees that I've ever seen, we landed in a small stone parking area overlooking the Pacific Ocean. About 400 Feet below, waves crashed against boulders with infinite climbing potential. Some of the place has been developed, some has not. We climbed whatever we could get our land-lover hands on, randomly naming problems that involved eloquent pirate-isms.
Because of the fluctuating tides and sand levels, some problems were possible to climb, others not. The sand can make a V4 into a V8, therefore no accurate guidebook exists for the beach boulders. No other medium in climbing besides ice changes as much as the water, sand and rock of bouldering on the coast.Mike and I also found (thanks to LarryB, Matt Battarbee, and Greg Garretson) a fantastic free campsite, complete with grass fields, picnic tables and a shitter. Granted "Samuel the lunatic" was also living there at the time. He wasn't a climber... but more of a drugged-out, homeless artist who lived on salmon, ice-house beer and pot. He was somewhat intelligent, rambling on about "regan-omics" and how we have to save all of our pre-1981 pennies. Apparently the copper in them is worth more than the actual piece of money. He told us to get all of our savings in pennies, bury it, and then dig it up and cash it in when we "wants" to retire. This leads me to believe that somewhere out there, on the California coast, there is a treasure chest buried with thousands of Samuels pennies.
The bouldering on the coast was one of the most beautiful settings that I've ever climbed in, aside from the Buttermilks of Bishop far to the South. Waves crashing, and not another climber in sight, we had the place to ourselves.

High-ball problems, sit starts... all of it was clean and new to us.

After we wiped out our fingertips on the boulders, we drove just under two hours inland to a magical place called the Trinity Aretes. Limestone, limestone, everywhere! We only had a few hours to sample the routes here, but immediately we found it to be steep, sharp and exciting. I'm currently trying to pull some people together to go back, as this is a place that will keep you strong and stoked for a while. It's true... Limestone does exist within an easy morning drive of Central Oregon!

Until next time...

Teddy Bear Picnic

Katy and I ventured out to Smith without a plan. For me, thats like going on a road trip without gas money. But, on this particular overcast day, since we didn't have a plan we decided to jump on a three pitch sport route that we had both wanted to do, but hadn't remembered or though about for a while. It's called "Teddy Bear Picnic" 5.10b/c. It's located on the massive Picnic Lunch Wall inside Smith Rock State Park. It's one of only a handful of routes on this wall because of the lack of solid rock. This route is the exception!

Ok, ok... 5.10b/c.... whopt-dee-doo.... but this three pitch climb really packs a punch. I've not yet felt exposure at Smith Rocks as I did on this climb. This climbing was sustained, long, and airy. The wind was blowing (which always seems to make exposure on a wall seem so much worse) and the air was cool. Coming from Las Vegas temps, I felt as though I was climbing in Siberia.

The first pitch was decent... sustained 5.10b knob pulling with some interesting moves. Katy led it fantastically well and with grace. I followed up behind, feeling somewhat less impressive. I was wearing my bigger "comfy" shoes, which make edging on small holds harder. I also forgot my chalk-bag at the climbing gym, which isn't detrimental but is somewhat inconvenient.

I led the second and third pitches, combining both of them into one long pitch. The third pitch is the MONEY pitch, putting you 250 feet off the deck on the very corner of a huge arete (a narrow spine of rock) From this position, I had to slap to micro-crimps and small pockets with minimal feet. The pitch was bolted, but not the kind of bolting that one wants to fall on. Any fall would have been at least 20 feet.

Rapping off, we both agreed that it wasn't the best route in the park, but it was one to write about! I highly recommend it. Bring plenty of draws to link the 2nd and 3rd pitches, and you only need to rappel twice to reach the ground.

Rockin' Red Rocks

From March 20-27 Katy Van Dis and myself ventured south to the Desert of Nevada to find some warm rock in this seemingly never-ending winter (My New England crew knows what I'm getting at... Spring is coming, hang in there). The climbing at home is good, but still somewhat unreliable in terms of temps.

In the past three years I've been to Red Rocks three times. This is partially because of the ease of getting there (flights into Las Vegas are always pretty cheap) and there is a veritable lifetime of climbing down there. The sandstone canyons have thousands of routes to challenge one's self... and after almost a month of my life spent there I feel as though I've barely scratched the surface.

If you're reading this entry to search for hard sends and groundbreaking ascents, read no further. This trip was more of a "get in shape again without hurting your knee" kind of trip. The days were long, but mellow. As sweet as the trip was, no 12's or 13's were sent, and no grade IV routes were completed. Just quantity and quality in the name of getting strong for the warm season. A handful of 11c sport climbs and 5.6-5.9 trad climbs.

The trip started out with a night slept in our Ford Edge rental car, as the Spring Breakers had staked their claim to all of the campsites. I awoke at 5:00 am the next morning and pushed our reservation paperwork into its proper place, successfully acquiring a 15x15 plot of desert to explode our gear on. A few hours later, we were dipping our hands in our chalkbags and stretching our weary ligaments on the warm, incut sandstone. After 6 pitches, we retired to Albertson's for amenities and shortly thereafter crashed hard onto our Thermarests.

Every morning we awoke to bright, hot sun and cool breezes. Hot enough to be wary of the sunburn that looms just outside of every shadow, but cool enough to still don insulated jackets and wool hats. I absolutely love the desert for its smells, its toughness and its incredible ecosystem. It seems as though everything is attempting to poke you.

My goal on the trip was to climb a lot and to climb at new crags that I'd never been to before. One specific wall was the Necromancer wall, which was recommended to me by a New England climbing partner, Chris Duca last year when we traveled to Red Rocks. The wall sits in the shade most of the day, and offers a nice moderate assortment of steep cracks. We did two routes here, both two pitches in length.

After completing "Fold Out" (5.8), we had to rap through a gully in order to get back to earth. Three mellow raps were all that separated us from the horizontal world. Starting the raps, I had a strange edginess about the decent. I wasn't scared, I wasn't nervous for our safety... I was just super thorough and extremely attentive. This isn't unlike my usual persona in the mountains, but in this specific instance I was "hyper" aware.

The first rap went smoothly, as did the second. Pulling the rope after the second rap, I made sure to pull slowly and make sure that I untied the knot in the end, which protected us from the all-too common climber error of rapping off the end of the rope into clean space. I then proceeded to tug the rope, which whipped through the webbing and quick-link at the top. The rope stopped. I gently tugged more.... nothing.

Swearing and pulling on the rope, I must have looked like an enraged gorilla trying to reach a Banana tied to the end of a rope. Yanking this way and that... that rope was stuck. We were one rap from the ground, our rope stuck about 50 feet above our heads, and no trail line to use. Not wanting to cut the rope, I then free soloed the 50 feet up (5.4) to get to the rope. A fall would have landed me scratched and bruised in a holly bush, no more.

Arriving at the stuck rope, I immediately swore as I gazed at a perfectly tied overhand knot that had lodged into a crack. I've only had two other times in my climbing career when I've had my ropes stuck, and none of them were instances when the rope tied itself into a knot. Something told me that the decent wouldn't be smooth... whatever it was, I'm glad that it didn't turn out worse. We continued the descent with no other abnormalities... although I gave our rope the hairy-eyeball for the next few days.

We climbed for 5 days, taking one rest day. We totaled two trad days and three sport days. Katy and I usually seem to travel with a large climbing crew, however this time it was just us. This gave us the opportunity to meet other climbers; some great and some complete assholes. It's my opinion that a climbing trip is more than the climbing; its the people, the place, and the experiences.

One such experience is when we met a group of climbers at the "Sweet Pain Wall" who had their ropes up on two climbs... but they weren't climbing. We asked if we could pull their rope and climb. One of them then yelled at us, "Our ropes 'er on the climbs... their ours!" Shaking my head, we moved onto another climb, and met a nice group of guys from Montana. After sharing a few routes with them, we all decided to head to Baja Fresh in town.

After arriving there, we quickly filled up six tables with a bunch of people, some we had met during the day, others that had arrived that knew the Montana crew. After a delicious taco dinner, a few of the guys left, and one guy (The Pharmacist, as we refer to him) told us that the guy that was sitting across from me was none other than Andy the Gladiator from the recent TV show American Gladiators. It was hilarious, seeing as the show is ridiculous and fantastic. He is apparently dating one of the female gladiators from the show as well. Helga maybe?

Other run-ins included at least six people from Bend, including Larry and Greg from PodClimber.com who were filming the Red Rock Rendezvous. Check out the website for the fantastic videos that they made from the trip.

The rest of the trip was filled with great sport climbing, long crack climbing, and lots of sunshine. Red rocks will continue to inspire; it's so close, so warm... and I am beginning to feel as though it's almost more of a home climbing crag than Smith Rocks! Ah... back to Smith we go.

Check out the small video below... we're talking about the color green and Kermit the Frog on one of the descents.

Spring at Smith

For some climbers the season at Smith never ended. Mine has just begun. Because of my knee injury, I've been out off the rock for over two months.

This past weekend was my first real attempt at real climbing (on rock, on the sharp end, on challenging routes.)

The day started off on a few east warm-ups, where I led and felt comfortable. The only times my knee hurt was when I was not moving, and in an energy saving clipping position. I have good range of motion, but sitting in the perch position (heel up my butt, basically) is completely impossible and would cause me excruciating pain.

After the warm-ups, my partner Mike Rougeux and I moved up to Aggro Gully to a 5.11b named Toxic. It is a rather short route (7 or 8 closely spaced bolts). The reason for choosing this route was because it is overhanging, so if I would fall (which I really shouldn't at this point) I wouldn't hit rock... only air. My first burn, I took a fall at the crux (a full dyno at mid-height) then on my second burn I sent with ease.

It felt really good to climb, move, and most of all succeed, even if it wasn't a climb for the record books. Climbing again after this accident makes me realize that I love the rhythm of climbing; the rhythm of moving over rock. When I lose that, I lose a little piece of myself.

Photo: Mike Rougeux on Magic Light, Smith Rocks, Oregon. Drew Peterson Belaying

Healin' Up, and some BIG NEWS

It's officially been two months since my ski accident, and I'm still feeling it every time I get out of bed, or when forget that I'm banged up and try and jump off a curb or get into my car faster than I should.

The MRI results weren't good, but they weren't horrible either. I have an MCL strain (whew!) with a fibular bone bruise (eak!). All together It should be about 2.5 months of recovery time... hopefully only a few more weeks until I can throw down on some warm spring stone.

Now on to the BIG NEWS.

I've been offered a job with the National Forest Service, and I accepted! I will be working 4 days a week and 6 months out of the year with the Forest Service as a Forestry Technician. I'll be outside all day, everyday... using my degree.

The other big news is that I also accepted a position with an internet climbing media company called PodClimber. I'm a sales rep, and I'll work selling content and maintaining and acquiring relationships with anything related to climbing that we wish to promote or produce.

This all boils down to me being happy at my job, outside... and having plenty of time for climbing!

Looks like 62 degrees and sunny on Sunday... I'll follow up here with an update on how the day goes. I've got a trip to Red Rocks in Nevada in about 2 weeks, so hopefully it'll feel top notch!

Dreamin' of a Better Day...

Sitting, watching the snow flying. That's about all I've been up to these days.

About 4 weeks ago I had a pretty bad spill on my skis and decided to tear up the inside of my left knee. Today is the one month anniversary of the accident, and I'm scheduled for an MRI this Thursday. Needless to mention, I have had very few adventures since my incapacitation.

What have I been doing? Catching up on life.

Climbing takes a certain amount of discipline, and a large amount of training time. Since I don't have the ability to climb, I've taken time for myself and started a different type of workout; one that will hopefully help me in the coming climbing season.

It's pretty simple... take care of my body in a way that I haven't or can't during the climbing season. I've been working out muscles that don't get much attention in climbing (i.e. pushing muscles, as opposed to the overworked pulling "climbing" muscles), focusing on my diet as much as possible, and take the time to sit, think, read and plan.

For the first time in 6 years I've paid to use a gym facility, buying a membership to the local weight room in Bend. Unlike the normal meat-market feeling of a weight room, the fitness center here in Bend is full of climbers, mountain bikers and other insane endurance athletes. Instead of seeing Adidas and Under Armour, all I see is Patagonia, Prana and Pearl Izumi.

Strengthening my pushing muscles has a few things going for it; I'll be evening out my rather uneven body (strong back, chicken chest) and all the while I'll be strengthening joints and avoiding pinched nerves and the like. I've already noticed a difference in my posture, and one of my largest weaknesses (core strength) is improving.

Diet is another genre that I've focused on. I'm eating the same foods, but I'm making a conscious effort to reduce the amount of rich foods that I eat in order to ward off the possibility of gaining weight. I'm exercising almost every day, but I'm still not burning off the calories like I did when I was training by climbing. I'm also trying to eat the best foods possible to help in the healing process. I'm convinced that a good diet will make the difference between being a solid climber and an injured climber.

Other things that I do is read, plan and dream of the future. I've surrounded myself with new guidebooks, magazines, and the internet to help me plan future trips. My current dream that I'm planning out is an Alpine big wall in The Dolomites of Italy. It's called the Brandler-Hasse (AKA Direttissima) V+ 5.12a / 7a+ 550m. Its an 18-20 pitch (unconfirmed actual amount of pitches) overhanging mixed line on the Cima Grande, in the Italian Alps. The North facing route climbs directly up the middle of the overhanging face on challenging mixed pitches. Pins apparently exist on the route in difficult areas from early ascents, and the rest is protectable with nuts and cams. The pitches are known to be sustained; 1 of 5.12a, 4 of 5.11, 4 of 5.10). The first 350m are continuously overhanging. Take the Grand Teton in Wyoming and drop a knife on the north face to make it clean cut to the bottom. Then, tilt the Grand a few more degrees to make it past vertical, and you've got the North face of Cima Grande in Italy. Exposure, hard climbing and a remote location make this one that I'd love to get on. Below is a closer up topo of the route. Click to zoom. (For those of you not used to looking at a climbing topo... the distance between the dots on the photo below are approximately 100 feet at the very least.)
I'll be dreaming of this piece of rock as I slide through the imaging tube on Thursday...

Off Season

One of the benefits to living in Central Oregon is "year round" climbing in impeccable weather. This time of year, however, is the hardest of the times to actually find anything to do if you are an addicted and performance oriented climber. Granted I could just hop a $79.00 flight to Vegas and leave some skin on desert sandstone, but life isn't always that easy.

The time between the months of December and February are somewhat difficult to climb. The weather is 50/50 in terms of reliability (the other 9 months of the year the days are normally 100% guaranteed to be sunny, breezy days) and the temperatures play a dramatic role in determining whether I can (or should) be out there on the rocks.

So what to do? What does an energetic and ADD climber do to keep himself sane and pass the time? Well for starters I spend money... I don't know if I'm trying to compensate for some sort of unhappiness or some lack of fulfillment, but I seem to spend money during these "off months". That being said, I recently spent a good chunk of money on new skis, boots, bindings all all the other goodies that a back country skier needs.

One of the great things about my life thus far is that I've invested so much time into climbing that I've become rather proficient at it. It has been very rewarding, and much of the good things in my life have stemmed from my vertical endeavors.

One thing that has lacked in my life is basically anything that has to do with anything other than climbing. Granted, being a skilled "all 'rounder" at climbing has given me the knowledge to transcend efficiently into different genres... backpacking, endurance sports, etc. But when it comes to the one outdoor pastime that 99% of the general population have an association with, skiing, I am a complete novice.

Skiing is the one outdoor activity that I have zero experience with. Growing up in Pennsylvania, sledding was much more inviting to me, and when I lived in Vermont, Ice Climbing was all I could think about. Skiing just didn't fit the budget (equipment, silly lift tickets) and I never had to pay to climb icicles. It was only when I moved out West and realized what real snow was that I became interested in hucking myself down snowy embankments.

So, after getting squared away with the best shiny equipment my little bank account could buy, I headed out and hoped that my balance and general athletic ability would help me in my quest to be a "ski-mountaineer".

On my third run, I realized that the bunny hill was now obsolete. I skied the rest of the day and felt pretty good about myself, and realized why 99% of the general population straps boards to its feet.


On New Years day, myself and a crew of 4 (including a powder-hound dog, Cinco) headed into the Central Oregon back country to test the 90" of snow that we have on the ground. After a 2.5 hour ascent to near 8000', we strapped on the skis hit the bowl near Mt. Bachelor. The powder had turned nearly to cement, and the skiing was difficult. Here's Katy's first run of the day... inspiring for an aspiring skier like myself. The Right video is Rebecca Larsen ripping through the bowl getting in some solid tele turns, with Cinco following not too far behind.



I fared worse than Katy, basically toppling down the entire 2000' to the car. I even managed to twist my knee. I'm not used to lower extremity injuries in climbing, so I had no idea what a bad knee injury felt like. I realized then and there while Cinco was licking the snow off my ski goggles that I am not willing to give up climbing for skiing, so I'm going to take it really easy from here on out. Blowing my knee for the spring climbing season? Not an option. I felt a little sore yesterday, but I think I avoided serious injury. That was the wake-up call that I needed.

Photo below: My crew Katy and Corey on the top of Cinder Cone, near Mt. Bachelor, OR. The giant in the background is South Sister.I'm hoping to take a lesson to get more proficient at skiing, and in the process hurt myself as little as possible. Climbing is still #1, but I'm hoping to have some excellent ski-mountaineering adventures come spring.

Smith Rock

This past weekend Katy and I ventured 40 minutes from our couch to our normal stomping grounds of Smith Rock. This is our local crag, and we climb here once, if not twice a week.

The fall brings great temperatures, great friction, and big sends! The only bad part about the autumn are the crowds in "the park" as we call it. When the people venture from their dark, dirty cities and come out to enjoy our backyard, we try and find the "special" spots, and this past Sunday we found one. Venturing about an hour from the car, we set off on our approach to the backside of Smith Rock State Park to a 5 pitch route called Wherever I May Roam (5.9 II) 400'. It's completely bolted, and we stretched it into a few hours. The climbing was good, and the positioning and exposure were great! Although not difficult, it was nice to get up off the ground and climb a route that we had yet to do. That, and this was one of Katy's hardest multi-pitch climbs to date. Granted she climbs 5.12 single pitch climbs, but multi-pitch brings a whole new dimension to her mental game.


"My goal is to have photos on multi-pitch climbs where I'm actually smiling." Katy told me before we got on the route. This one made her frown for a few pitches, but after a nicely exposed arete, she confessed that the fear makes her somewhat excited to do longer, harder routes.

"We're working on it [the fear]." Said Katy at the top.

Red River Gorge, Kentucky

Just this week one of my stories was published! Currently it is the featured story on www.greatoutdoors.com , and specifically you can click the link below to get there:

http://www.greatoutdoors.com/published/climbing-in-kentucky039s-red-river-gorge

Thanks for reading!

There's a bit more info about this trip in an earlier post <--> Click here.

As for the adventures, I've been training very hard to get back into sport climbing shape; yesterday I sent a mini-project of mine called Torrid Zone (5.12a) at Smith rocks. I did it on my second try, which is always a nice feeling. Previous to yesterday I was climbing with my boy Ben Moon on Tsunami (5.12c), but I think that may take me a bit more work than Torrid Zone. The goal is to climb as hard as possible through the fall and winter in order to completely CRUSH everything I try in the spring in my adventures.

Enjoy fall!

Bugaboo Big Walls

Big wall climbing is tough. Big wall climbing in the Bugaboos is really tough. Big wall climbing in the Bugaboos with the weather God's against you.... well.... read the trip report and you'll get an idea of the difficulties we faced. Through the snow, rain and mediocre weather throughout, Mike Bauman and I still managed to get a few good climbs in, along with some incredible photos and memories.

The trip started out somewhat bitter; Mike's plane from Vermont to Portland, OR was delayed overnight, so Mike spent the night in a hotel in Denver and I spent the night in a Holiday Inn Express Parking lot. Not a single motel / hotel in Portland had vacancy, so I pulled into a dark space in a hotel parking lot and slept in the back of my Subaru.

Mike arrived early the next morning, and we started our 12-14 hour drive to the Bugaboos.

Arriving in Brisco, BC after an uneventful drive at about 11:00 PM, we pulled off the side of the road, threw the bivy sacks in the weeds beside the car and slept.... really well actually. I don't think I've ever slept so well in a bivy sack. The next morning, we filled the gas tank one last time and headed into the woods. 35 miles in the rain on an unkempt logging road and we were there... the trailhead to the Bugaboos!
Rain greeted us with a slap in the face as soon as we exited the car, and we were forced to pack our big hauling packs in the rain. Before we even started, our gear was wet. The approach was arduous beyond description. A four mile hike isn't that bad, but add rain, 90 lb packs and 3000' of elevation gain in the last 2 miles and you've got yourself a killer approach.

Once the approach was behind us, we found a fantastic basecamp spot nestled between some boulders near the top of a ridge. The 3000 foot tall granite spires loomed over our heads even at camp, and I'm sure it would have been an excellent view... if we could see them. All we could see were dark shadows and rain clouds a few ridges here and there. Setting down our monstrous torture devices (read: packs) we unpacked our lightweight single-wall 4 season tents in the rain, and prepared to eat a huge meal and sleep. 15 minutes after we pounded in the first stake for our tents, it started to snow. It didn't completely stop snowing for 14 hours.Lucky for me, I have learned to control my A.D.D. over the years and the first 14 hours in a tent wasn't that bad. We broke free from our yellow space capsules late the next morning and stretched or rested arms toward to blue sky; hoping that maybe we could get to use those arms on some dry granite later in the day.

After some oatmeal and beef jerky, we decided to attempt a route called the Kain Route (III 5.6). It's not a very technical climb, but its a long climb, and it would take some time, so before we set out (around 12:00pm) we agreed upon a turn around time even before we set foot out of camp. This insured that we wouldn't have any epic moments and that we could return to the safety of our little camp before nightfall.

20 minutes into our 2-hour approach to the climb, the clouds came at us from over the spires and opened up, filling our hoods with snow. We stopped before the technical part of the approach to the bottom of the climb to accessed the situation, and decided to gear up and at least give it a shot. We put our harnesses on, strapped on our crampons, and grabbed our ice axes.

Crunching through the newly fallen snow, we were warily approaching the Bugaboo/Snowpatch Col. (A col is a pass and has the general form of a saddle between two mountains..the elevation as a function of two position coordinates is mathematically a saddle point). This col was fully snow covered and steep; potentially 50-60 degrees. The col had just sloughed (small avalanche) so we weren't concerned about any chance of a larger slough or full on avalanche. The climbing in the col was pretty easy with all of the recent snowfall, and we climbed our way through the little crevasses and small bergschrund at the top. As soon as we made our way to the top of the col, the western end of the bugaboos became ridiculously apparent to us; a frozen environment with a fresh snow-storm on the brew. We couldn't even decipher what we were looking at because this new storm had dark clouds all around. We figured we had about an hour of climbing time before the conditions got serious, so we started our adventure up the Kain Route; turning around after an hour. We got a little perspective on the route and it made us feel better to actually climb some easy rock. We didn't rope up; no need to. The hardest climbing at the bottom of the route was probably 5.3. We didn't need to rap either; we were down-climbing quickly and efficiently to beat the storm.



On the decent, we had to venture down through the col again, which wasn't as easy as climbing up. The ice under the snow made traction less available on the way down. I fell a few times, only to self arrest in the snow and continue on my way, laughing at how silly my steep snow climbing skills had become since last winter.

As soon as we neared base camp, the spires disappeared into a thick fog, and moments later light snow began to fall on our tents. Every other team at base camp asked us what we had done that day; "Very little" we said as we stared off into the clouds, wondering what the next few days would bring.

Our goal of the trip was the world famous Beckey-Chouinard Route (V 5.10) on the South Howser Tower. We hoped that there would be a two-day break in the weather this week that would give us a fighting chance on the the route. We could do it from base camp to base camp in two days... we just needed the window. We set our alarms to 5:00am for the next morning, snoozed and listened as the snow slowly stopped falling on our tents. The next few hours would predict our day tomorrow.

We awoke to a bright moon and a glow on the horizon. It took us fifteen minutes to scrape the dust our of our eyes and grab some cheese for breakfast. We had no idea what this day would bring, so we gathered our climbing packs and ran for the Bugaboo Spire. The goal; The Northeast Ridge (IV 5.8). We hustled across the glaciers to get the the start of the climb. The first few hours of the climb we would solo/simul-climb two pitches to gain the Bugaboo Spire Col. From there we would scramble 800+ vertical feet up the shoulder of the col to the East face of Bugaboo Spire, just where the technical climbing begins. The scramble was not heavily involved, but at elevation and climbing with a pack I found myself out of breath often. I would stop to evaluate where we were on the route and I would look back at Mike and be glad that he was there. His experience and comfort in the mountains was encouraging. I looked up and stared at the Northeast Ridge, excited that we had blue sky and orange sun to warm us along our way. At the last point of safety before the enormous East Face of Bugaboo Spire, we roped up, pounded fists and Mike took the first pitch of the 15 that loomed ahead.

Sharing leads and only stopping momentarily at beautifully exposed belays to swap gear, we were making excellent time. Nothing on the horizon told of any inclement weather and we were feeding off of each other's positive energy. Nothing at this point could stop us, and we were already feeling the excitement of reaching the top of this remote spire.

For my next lead, I had to traverse 20 feet or so to the North to a corner crack system. Leading up to that corner I had perfect foot placements on granite crystals, warm stone pushing its radiant energy back towards my body and bright sunshine reflecting off the back of my chapped and chalked hands. I heard a whistle not far from me, but I thought nothing of it. Soon, I had no choice but to only think of that whistle could possibly be...

As soon as I got to the end of my traverse, the whistle turned into a roar and the roar turned out to be the wind ripping over the North Face of the spire. I turned the corner, and instantly my warm sunny world turned into a dark shadow filled with ice and blowing snow. Until now, we hadn't encountered much snow except for on the glacier far below; but right in front of my eyes was a cold winter corner with ice and snow choking the life out of the crack.

Looking back at Mike with a pale expression, I said, "watch me through here" which basically let's him know that the going doesn't look easy and that I want him to pay attention. As I turned back towards my windy corner, I questioned why I had told him to watch me, as I was about to disappear from his sight until I reached the next belay. With no sight and no audible communication possible on my end because of the howling wind, It was just me and the icy crack. Placing pieces every once and a while, I felt decent in the beginning. The protection was good, my hands were only occasionally snow-filled or icy and the cold air would only blow in my face every 30 seconds or so. Soon, the crack steepened and my hands started to numb. My feet were now covered in snow and dry friction was becoming harder and harder to find. Eventually, I reached a small ledge about 12 inches by 12 inches; plenty of room to relax and get a no-hands rest. I looked all around, and imagined my position in my mind's eye. A thousand feet above the glacier, completely numb and out of breath with snow and cold air blowing in my eyes. I've only been in the position a few times in my life where I've looked at myself and the position that I'm in, and I smiled to myself knowing that it was fully my fault for putting myself there.

I looked to my left and found a small spot of sun just coming around the corner. I reached over as far as I could and just got the tips of my fingers in the sun. As little comfort as this provided; it inspired me to place a piece and continue up the crack onto what I hoped was a dry ledge.

Climbing my way up, fully numb and risking falling back down into the dark depths of the corner, I felt as though I'd climbed hundreds of feet. My pack cut into my shoulders and the numbness in my toes traveled up through my legs and into my core; chilling me from within. I kept using fingerlocks and toe jams; placing pieces where I could in the cold crack.

Finally, a small roof led to a large ledge where I made an anchor and immediately buried my fingers into my armpits and screamed as the blood surged back into them, giving them life. After a few colorful words later, I pulled on my extra softshell layer and yelled "OFF BELAY" hopelessly into the air to Mike, telling him that I was safe and out of the pain chamber. I then smiled to myself, imagining Mike below whistling to himself happily because he had no idea what he had coming in front of him. For all he knew, warm, sunny climbing awaited.

After rigging the anchor for his safety, I started belaying him up, hoping that he was having an alright time in the crack. Sitting at the belay, I had generated some warmth in my feet by vigorously moving them in my climbing shoes. Dreaming of my mountaineering boots (Trango S Evo) in my pack, I kept belaying until I saw Mike's white helmet appear at the top of the pitch below me. A blank expression led me to believe that his experience was similar to mine. He crawled up next to me and congratulated me on leading the corner. He then shook his hands vigiriusly in an attempt to warm them up.

Looking up above us, we heard a voice yell "ROPE" and a climbing rope came sailing down by us. Moments later, two chaps from Colorado had joined us. They were climbing above us, and they told us of their adventure.

"I'm hypothermic man." Said one of the Coloradans.

They explained that the chimney pitches above were fully snow covered, and they weren't kidding. We gazed up and saw that we had many more winter pitches above us. After they rappelled away far below, we decided that we had to either risk life and limb and continue, or bail and feel defeated. I peeked around the corner at the Northwest face, and saw a few small clouds building on the horizon. Weighing out the situation, we decided to do the right thing and bail off of the Northeast Ridge. I took some video, put my lovely boots on and we started the rigging for the rappel.

The route isn't easily rappelled because the normal decent route exit's off the South face of Bugaboo Spire. Luck was on our side and the chaps from Colorado had left gear the whole way down, so we didn't have to leave our slings or nuts; we just used theirs.

A few hours of rappelling so, the small clouds on the horizon had brewed themselves into a full-fledged storm; ready to cut loose at a moments notice. The wind had picked up and two pitches from the relative safety of the glacier, the clouds opened up into a snow storm.

We made the right decision, no matter which way you look at it. We didn't make it to the top; but we did get to sleep in our warm sleeping bags that night. We climbed the majority of the route, including the crux in good style.


Throughout the next day it stormed and we were confined to our tents for most of the morning. The first 14 hours were wonderful because I slept the whole time. The rest of the time was spent pulling my hair out, reading the guidebook and listening to my Ipod Shuffle (weighing an ounce, it was the best rainy-day object that I had brought. Those of you opposing technology in the mountains... I don't care. It kept me sane. Kind of.)

Below is a sequence in behavior during a time of bad weather / tent confinement / too much sleep...

It starts out just fine.









Then things start to get a little antsy.









Before you know it, you are starting to itch all over and you can't do anything but think about getting outside and playing.









Then, near hour 29 with no climbing and dead batteries, your soul (and body) become numb and you don't know what to do; thus all hell breaks loose.



Lucky for you, I had a camera and I could document this extreme deterioration of sanity.




Finally, the skies cleared and the sun made an appearance. This being our last chance to make it to the top of something, we set our sights on the Kain Route once more.

Feeling a little twitch in the back of my brain, I knew that the conditions in the Bugaboo / Snowpatch col had deteriorated throughout the week, but I wasn't truthfully sure of just how bad it was. For me, getting up and past the col was the most mentally taxing part of the day. I could see streaks left in the snow from large boulders falling down the col, and I had known how steep it was from our previous climb of it... but now the snow had been baked in the sun, rain, and warmer temperatures from the previous day. Simply put, I was pretty nervous about getting up that thing without being hit by a rock. Most of the accidents in the Bugaboos happen on the Bugaboo / Snowpatch col, and I didn't want to add to the statistic.The sun hits the Col just after sunrise, so Mike and I got a nice alpine start and hit it just as the sun did. Solid snow and our steps from our last attempt were still kicked into the solid, now icy ground. We found a good line up through the center, weaving our way between the crevasses. Soon, we escaped to the left, just below the bergshrund. This offered us a little protection; we hoped that any falling rock would be caught by the gaping bergshrund before it came down and hit us. As we progressed along, a few small rocks did end up coming lose from high above, and they were indeed caught by the 'shrund.

After making our way up bast the bergshrund, we were now in the direct path of any falling rocks. The eastern slope of the col that we were ascending funneled any and all falling objects (people included) straight down to where we were. This is also known as the fall line; we had no choice but to climb the direct fall line towards the top of the col. The entire way, baseball size rocks were sliding past us as the col melted away in the early morning sun. Nothing went airborne, they just wizzed past, jumping little higher than our knees. I'd almost rather get hit in the helmet with a rock then have it take out my knee. The last thing I wanted was a helicopter ride out of there.

Soon, we got to the top of the popsicle and left the hazards below us. Now we just had 2,000' of rock to climb! As soon as we got the the top of the col, we got a perfect view of our main objective of the trip; the South Howser Tower. As soon as we saw it, we knew that we wouldn't be able to climb it on this trip. Reality set in when we saw the massive amounts on snow on its upper flanks. It being 3 miles away, we could tell that climbing that thing now would be a death trap. We may be able to get up; but getting down would have been impossible with all of the snow that had collected on the Northeast Face... our only decent route. We stammered about talking about how we wish we had a shot at it, then stared up at our current objective; the summit of Bugaboo Spire. We still had a long way to go.

The climb was warm, south facing and low angle. We soloed for about an hour and a half up easy terrain, then after an easy 5.4 pitch we decided to rope up for the rest of the climb. 5.6 at elevation with a pack on sometimes feels close to 5.10 at sea-level with no pack, so we didn't mind slowing down for the security of a rope.

Weaving our way through the granite cracks along the Southern ridge of the mountain, the Kain route didn't have a high intensity of objectives for us to overcome. The weather was the crux, and at this point the weather was proving to (for once) be on our side.

The hardest part (other than the endurance) for this climb is the Gendarme. (A gendarme is an isolated rock pinnacle.) The Gendarme on the Kain route is only about 75 feet high from base to top, but it is right on the ridge. The only way past the gendarme is to climb over it. This is the crux pitch, and it goes as old-school 5.6. A few vertical cracks lead to an exposed section where you can get over the gendarme. The orange granite here swallows gear, and the finger-jams are perfect.

A full rope length later, and I was smiling as I was placing my last piece of protection before the summit. A few foot placements and crimps later, and I was standing at the top of Bugaboo Spire (10,512'). Belaying Mike to the top, we finally reached the summit of something! The wind was blowing and the clouds were starting to move in, but nothing could take away from the moment of reaching our goal. We took photos, signed a summit register that was located in a cast iron tube buried under rocks near the top, shook hands, and both spent a quiet moment to ourselves, staring at the full worth of the Bugaboo Mountains.

















The decent from here took a few hours and required more route finding, but eventually we made our way back to the top of the Bugaboo / Snowpatch Col. From the top of the Col we could almost see our camp far in the distance, but we still had to get down the col without incident. Keeping our distance from each other, as to not knock rocks down on the lower climber, we slowly and carefully made our way down the deteriorating slope. The mud/ice/rock under our crampons was that of frozen toothpaste; each step was an adventure in itself. A fall here would send us careening down the col and into the Bergshrund at the bottom.
A few steps later, we made our way to a rappel anchor and soon we were on the safety of the rope. It took us 4 full length rappels to get us to the Bergshrund. Once there, I opted to rappel first. Moving closer to the 'shrund, I peered over it and tried to figure out my game plan. It was too steep to jump over, but not steep enough that I could rappel over. I was forced to lower down about 10 feet into the crack in the glacier and swing my way on the rope to the other lip. Once near the lip, I struck with my ice axe and gained purchase. Pulling myself over the lip from out of the crevasse, and a few uncoordinated moves later I successfully laded on the opposite side of the bergshrund. I waved to Mike above and he smiled... probably wondering why I made that look so uncoordinated.

All too fast, I saw Mike put his hands over his helmet and duck down. The next few moments were jumbled and unclear as small, baseball sized rocks careened over the rock that Mike was huddled behind. Those small rocks turned to slightly larger rocks, and finally one large rock toppled its way down toward the bergshrund. Lucky for me gravity pulled it toward the center of the col; I was perched on the left side. The rock was about the size of a brown paper grocery bag and was traveling at a good clip... so fast that it completely skipped over the bergshrund.

"Let's get the HELL out of here!" we both said simultaneously and we completed our raps down to the bottom of the Col.

At the bottom we both congratulated each other on completing a climb, and we wandered our way back to our tents and ate as much food as possible. Yes, we were starving, but it was mostly because we didn't want to carry anything out with us. What goes up, must come down.

The Bugaboos for me was an adventure beyond accurate description. That means that it was so big, so cold, so adventurous and committing that I can't do the trip justice with words. I wasn't over my head, but I was challenged. I would have liked to have been more successful on the climbs, but the trip as a whole was a great success that I'm still feeling the buzz from.

On our drive back, Mike and I stopped at a Restaurant in Idaho, and made sure that we ate dessert first. That was the best Key Lime Cheesecake that I've ever had! Thanks for the great climbs Mike.

As I think about the Bugaboos, I imagine myself looking over my shoulder at the huge granite spires and realizing that I have unfinished business. I stirred up a monster in myself and it has only inspired me to push harder and go for more.

I've completed a DVD of the trip and It's almost ready to ship. If you are interested in one, send me your address to drew.davin@gmail.com and I'll get one out to you. Its full of video, photos, humor and beta. Cost is free, but If you'd like to throw in $5.00 for S/H that would be great!

If you have any questions or comments, please let me know! More stories to come...