Revelation Mountains and Roberts’ Pitons

/ Andrew Szalay / Leave a comment

Roberts’ pitons from Vanishing Pinnacle, recovered by Helander (courtesy Clint Helander 2013)

Unless someone has climbed it in the last year or so, Vanishing Pinnacle in the Revelation Mountains, a remote subrange of the Alaska Range, has only been summited three times. First in 1966, the second in 1985, and most recently in 2012. It’s a 400-foot needle that, as the first ascentionist said, is only detected in profile.

If you read the features in the 2013 American Alpine Journal the last one before the general entries was part of the new Recon section, which covers virtually untapped mountain climbing areas, Clint Helander wrote this one about the Revelations. They are rarely visited and still have peaks that, to the best of our collective knowledge, are unclimbed. The Revs are not giants, most are about 9,000 feet above sea level, but they are ripe for pioneering a new route and taking in big Alaska in solitude.

Helander is the contemporary expert on the region and has more first ascents there than anyone else. I’ve covered his most recent climbs in the Revs here on TSM before.

Helander and Ben Trocki were the third to climb Vanishing Pinnacle. The first ascent was lead by the first explorer in this range, who also happens to be my favorite alpine climbing author, David Roberts. (John Long is the best rock climbing author, for the record.)

Regarding the second ascent, Thomas Walter reported in the 1988 American Alpine Journal that, “On the top we found rusty pins slung together with a nylon belt left two decades earlier.” Walter and his would-be long-time climbing partner Greg Collins left the pins and rated the crux pitch as 5.11, even though Roberts’ team said the overall climb was F6 (i.e. 5.6), A3.

In 2012, Helander and Trocki, after climbing for 18 days on the more serious peaks and running out of food, thought what-the-heck and decided to dash up the Pinnacle. They found the pitons. For whatever reason, Helander loosened two, clipped them into a carabiner and descended with souvenirs. It wasn’t hard to guess who they might belong to.

Helander took the photo above shortly before shipping one back to its original owner. If nothing else, Roberts deserved it for his pioneering in the Revelations. Helander deserved the other for reopening the range to climbing, and even completing some unfinished business, like the second ascent of the Angel and the first ascent of Golgotha.

Roberts named them, Helander made his name through them.

It’s also worth mentioning that the Revs saw little more traffic among explorers of any kind until Helander’s arrival, and few have covered as much ground — vertical and horizontal.

Thanks goes to Clint for his repeated generosity and for sharing this story with me.

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Sources: 1) Clint Helander, 2) Alpinist online, 3) 1968 American Alpine Journal; and 4) 1988 American Alpine Journal.

Climbers’ Thanksgiving Traditions

/ Andrew Szalay / 1 Comment

In the evening on Thursday, Thanksgiving Day, a handful of climbers in the Washington, DC and Northern Virginia region will bring their rock shoes and a dish to share to Sportrock for the annual Thanksgiving potluck.

At about the same time, a group will have already been ascending the cracks on the beautiful vertical walls around Indian Creek in Utah in a less structured tradition known locally as Creeksgiving.

In the southern hemisphere, many nomad climbers have flocked to El Chalten in Argentina or other climbing destinations in Patagonia to take advantage of the time off, or perhaps avoid the family altogether.

Others will use the time off to make it a four-day weekend and extend their time for their climb, whether it’s a sport climb project or a ground-up route on some remote mountain anywhere convenient or alluring.

Regardless of what you have planned, have a Happy Thanksgiving.

I’ll be with my family and our six out-of-town guests, enjoying a ham (instead of a turkey) and sipping a craft beer thinking of all that I am thankful for.

Climbing and other climbers are high on my list.

I appreciate you stopping by for a read once again. If you enjoyed this post, please consider following the Suburban Mountaineer on Facebook and Twitter.

Various Notes: Annapurna, Steve House Etc.

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Every Wednesday evening, or another night during the week, I see this person carry his ultralite pack and his rock climbing shoes ride the Washington subway to meet his girlfriend at the climbing gym. He doesn’t climb outdoors much and he doesn’t know the route names of those he’s been on. But that’s not the point.

He and I haven’t spoken since the first time we met in a slightly belabored conversation, but I like seeing him on the train. Maybe climbing doesn’t end when you live far from real mountains; maybe it just takes on different forms.

Sometimes it’s just about following the news and living vicariously. The news from the last several weeks has been centered on one big alpine route: The south face of Annapurna. On October 9th, Ueli Steck summited Annapurna via an incomplete line first attempted by Jean-Christophe Lafaille and Pierre Beghin of France in 1992. He did so alone and at a lightening pace during a mere 28 hours.

Then, only days later on October 24th, French climbers Yannick Graziani and Stephane Benoist went up the same way (but that is unconfirmed), though no where near the same pace Steck traveled. They took eight days to climb.

I started thinking that the conditions (including the rock, snow, ice, weather, stability, etc.) on the south face must have been ideal to allow Steck to climb so swiftly and for a second team of two to ascend this wall. Ed Viesturs and David Roberts talk about the challenge and appeal of the wall in their book on Annapurna, The Will to Climb. If you have copy it’s worth going back and reading that chapter on the first ascent of the south face. (I’ve been carrying my copy in my bag on my commute these past few days.)

Now knowing that Graziani and Benoist struggled their way up, unlike Steck’s apparent saunter to the top. The pair experienced some cold nights with at least one spent without a shelter. Benoist suffered with significant frostbite and was evacuated once the they neared the base of the mountain.

What may seem like a stable route in ideal conditions can change quickly. It can also be subject to so many other factors, such as how a climber matches up to the challenge. Can they overcome the rock band? If their rope is too short, do you descend? If you run low on food, can you keep going?

It makes Steck’s ascent more impressive. But it also makes the climb by Graziani and Benoist stand for its own characteristics. They didn’t saunter, and their story will likely be a more compelling epic, especially in that they followed Steck’s lightning first ascent.

As a final note, the training guidebook that Steve House has been working on with Scott Johnston will be available to the general public in February 2014, and sooner if you can get to the Patagonia booth at the Outdoor Retailer Winter Market on January 24 in Salt Lake City. Its title is Training for the New Alpinism: A Manual for the Climber as Athlete. The forward is written by Mark Twight.

Well, Happy Halloween. I’m looking forward to leaving work a little early to take Wunderkind trick or treating for the first time. What costume do you think her father will wear?

I appreciate you stopping by for a read once again. If you enjoyed this post, please consider following the Suburban Mountaineer on Facebook and Twitter.

From Gongga Shan to Mount Everest

/ Andrew Szalay / 2 Comments

Here are some final notes about the adventure surrounding the first ascent of Minya Konka in 1932 and even a reflection on the government shutdown in America. But first, here is a factoid that a friend and reader in Seattle highlighted for me.

Sizing Up

Minya Konka, the Tibetan name for the mountain in Sichuan Province, China, where it is better known as Gongga Shan, has a spectacular rise. Our friend in Seattle is knowledgeable about prominent mountains like Gongga Shan or Mount St. Elias in Alaska, for example. Despite the mountain’s status in this regard, he says he has never heard anyone say that they’re dreaming of climbing Gongga Shan. It’s a shame; PeakBagger.com says, “It is one of only eight peaks in the world that rank in the 50 highest and 50 most prominent peaks on earth, and only 6 are both higher and more prominent.”

It’s points like this that make the original, sloppy measurement of 30,000 feet by Joseph Rock appear, if not forgiveable, at least understandable. It certainly appeared to dominate the sky. It lends some sense, based on his observations, of why he thought it could be true. Perhaps he wanted it to be true.

While I have retold the story of Burdsall and Moore climbing to the top of Minya Konka in 1932 in terms of a single-minded mission, it was, in fact, more complex. The full expedition was indeed determined to attempt the mountain, but there was widespread skepticism on the mountain’s actual elevation. While the possibility that Rock was right, there was no way to be certain except by going there and finding out for themselves.

Even Rock wrote, “Not being supplied with a theodolite, I could not take the actual height…” The chief cartographer at National Geographic later learned that Rock didn’t even use a mercurial barometer, and that he only used a simple pocket sighting compass and an aneroid for setting his baseline. However, when Rock published an article in National Geographic, Minya Konka was marked at 28,000 feet. In fact, it was the editorial revision; because of the tools he used, 28,000 feet was as high as they felt comfortable publishing.

The expedition, as commissioned by the Explorers Club under the leadership of Gene Lamb, would explore the region up close, determine the elevation using the most modern technique, and attempt to reach the summit. And there was one more thing…

Ulterior Motives

The expedition also served as a probe or trial balloon for another purpose. If the climbers could obtain official permission to cross China, Lamb believed, it may be possible to also cross Tibet and make the first American attempt of Everest, thereby skirting India and Nepal, which the English held through a mountaineering monopoly.

This was a significant reason why obtaining permission to climb Minya Konka was critical to the process. And if you recall, when the elusive right to climb it was granted there was a condition attached: The Americans would be allowed to attempt Minya Konka if, and only if, they promised not to proceed beyond Sichuan Province, enter Tibet and attempt Mount Everest.

This was 1932. The English had a hold on Everest. Conspiracy theories aside, China aided in that strangle hold. I don’t believe there was any arrangement between those nations’ governments, but the Chinese interest in controlling foreigners and access to their land, was a valued piece to their public policy.

Government Influences

Politics and policy processes (which is how I make my living) is how we express society’s values. It’s also a force that can limit our freedom of the hills. The Chinese and English interests, while for different values, worked in concert to limit access. It was also an era of strong feelings of nationalism. Today, I think of climbing and hiking as so innocent, but it’s not when national pride is at stake.

Here in the United States, our national government has been shutdown for 13 days. It’s not the record (the American government shutdown for 21 days in 1995 for the longest in history,) but access to public lands, like Yosemite has been limited. Roads are closed and backcountry activity is strictly prohibited.

I don’t think this is entirely bad; the land and animals will be left alone to be wild. When things reopen (and they will eventually,) I hope that it gives us a glimpse into what Burdsall, Moore, Emmons, and Young experienced crossing into the unknown.

I appreciate you stopping by for a read once again. If you enjoyed this post, please consider following the Suburban Mountaineer on Facebook and Twitter.

Climbing matters, even though we work nine to five.

What I am Reading Now

/ Andrew Szalay / Leave a comment

Just a quick note on what I’m reading in rare spare moments between excitement at work and family fun…

Alpinist 44 (starting with the editors note, the poetry on Alison Hargreaves, followed by Gildea’s range profile on the Sentinels, and every other morsel after those.)

2013 American Alpine Journal (finished the features and obituaries, now I am looking at the Alaskan and  Canadian entries. Then I’ll hit up whatever region catches my interest before putting it on the bookcase until I need it for a reference.)

Cheers.

Climbing matters even though we work nine to five.

Michael Ybarra

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I never knew Michael Ybarra. For that matter I never knew the great Fritz Wiessner either, but I still know what he did and I like to think we shared things in common. Michael, for those of you unfamiliar with him, was best known as a talented writer. Climbers knew him as a climber that made a living as a writer.

He passed away while climbing alone, in the Sierra Nevada mountains just over one year ago. The exact details of how he left us are unclear. It doesn’t really matter, either.

Unlike reading news of a death of an actor or actress, the news of Michael’s death actually stung. Michael died doing what I like to do and spend a lot of time day dreaming about. And Michael was more like me than say Bjørn-Eivind Artun, who we lost the same year, was like me. (No surprise there, really, but the point is made.)

Michael wrote for my local newspaper, The Washington Post once as an investigative reporter, and later he worked for the Wall Street Journal as their adventure correspondent. Then he also wrote articles in Alpinist, including a piece published posthumously in issue 43.

Michael also wrote a remarkable and very readable biography on the man behind the darkest days in Washington, DC, Patrick McCarren of Nevada. I am going to finish reading it shortly and will tell you more about it later.

And he loved the mountains. He lived out of his car for portions of his journey. He climbed regularly in Yosemite and had the respect of other climbers.

There will be a memorial service held at CalTech on Monday, October 14, 2013. I won’t be able to go, but maybe you can. If you go, you can celebrate what it Michael means to you.

For me, it is that life at work and with our family responsibilities may seem incompatible with climbing. In reality, love for the mountains and playing among them is actually an anchor for ensuring that I enjoy all aspects of life to the greatest extent possible. There is no doubt, from the people I know that actually knew Michael, that he was alert to life and he was at peace living his.

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Climbing matters even though we work nine to five.