The DC Climbing Connection

/ Andrew Szalay / Leave a comment

This morning, I’m returning home from a four-day business trip to New York City. The meetings in New York were productive and it was good for the change in scenery — well, it’s not bad staying in Mid-Town either.

It’s hard to believe that the American Alpine Club was once headquartered here in the Borough of Manhattan for most of its history. It moved to Golden, Colorado rather recently — in 1993, along with the library and all.

It makes much more sense for the AAC to be located near the mountains where we “practice our religion,” rather surrounded by skyscrapers of a major city. Yet, interestingly, the AAC Benefit Dinner is held in a major city annually, rather than a ski resort or someplace similar, among the mountains. This past March it was held in Boston, Massachusetts.

Boston I get, however. The Harvard Mountaineering Club out of Cambridge has made first ascents in Alaska, Canada and throughout the world. The Boston Museum of Science was lead by HMC member and alpinist Bradford Washburn. But, I just don’t know the connection between climbing and some of these other cities — or if there is any connection at all!

Coming from a prejudiced view of what climbing is and what it ought to be, I’ve judged Washington, DC — my Peaklessburg — pretty hard. It’s taken 10 years to soften and broaden my view. I no longer mean to deride it. Overall, I have begun to recognize and respect the climbing culture here.

I remember that Marcel Schatz, a member of the 1950 Annapurna first ascent expedition, lived and worked in Paris but visited Chamonix every weekend to climb. Despite working in his own Peaklessburg, he was fortunate to be in striking distance to those 4,000-meter mountains. There are lots of stories of city-dweller climbers that escape routinely to feed their restless need. That used to be me too until I made room for other life priorities.

Like Boston, Washington, DC is a starting point for some mountain exploration. The US Geological Survey, headquartered here, supported some mountain exploration. In 1890, the USGS partnered with the relatively new National Geographic Society in sending Israel Russel to Alaska. The NGS was established by Washingtonian businessmen, lawyers and scientists “interested in the world and all that is in it.” Part of that was mountain ranges. The Russel expedition explored the Yakutat Bay area and Mount Saint Elias (18,008 ft./5,489 m.) After mapping the area, Russel returned to his home in New York City. National Geographic also played a significant role in sponsoring the first American ascent of Mount Everest (29,035 ft./8,848 m.) in 1963.

Today, National Geographic hosts events at its headquarters with the subjects of its films and publications. I’ve mentioned presentations by Andrew Skurka, Ed Viesturs, David Roberts, Gerlinde Kaltenbrunner and others before.

Climbing in the area is limited but not entirely nonexistent. From Washington, the closest crags are reputable top roping sites on the banks of the Potomac River west of the city at Great Falls, Virginia and Carderock, Maryland. There are even a couple of boulder problems if you only have your shoes and you’re climbing alone. Seneca Rocks — that awesome narrow, multi-pitch rock fin in West Virginia, is about four hours away. For things greater, keep going to Red River Gorge in Kentucky or head north to the Gunks in New Paltz, New York. But there isn’t any water ice within a reasonable days drive… Make a weekend trip to the Adirondacks or New England for that.

Washington also has an active indoor climbing culture with Earth Treks north of the city and SportRock in Northern Virginia south of the city. Sasha DiGuilian is the local climbing phenom. DiGuilian is currently climbing harder routes than any other American woman climber, though only the sport climbing community seems to be really excited about that, she’s a national name in that space.

So I’ve come to realize it is possible to be in the city and be a climber. It’s not ideal. The AAC learned that. But it’s a starting point. It’s where we go from here that matters.

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Hero Climbers

/ Andrew Szalay / Leave a comment

The other morning I went to the American Alpine Club website, as I often do, to search for entries about a particular topic — in this case the Revelation Mountains in Alaska — through the American Alpine Journal. Before I got to that I clicked on the new Guide to Membership page about the booklets that are on their way to members’ mailboxes now. I was surprised and flattered to see myself on page five alongside Jim Davidson, Emily Harrington and several other reputable AAC members — all climbers I admire.

A couple days later, I received notes from a few fellow AAC members that saw me in the other mailing that arrived this week, which is soliciting contributions to the AAC and its Henry S. Hall, Jr. American Alpine Club Library. I appreciated the messages!

I have to admit, I think it is really neat to be part of these publications to promote the AAC. The neatest part isn’t even being labeled a member — there are far, far more accomplished and interesting climbers than me. Rather, it’s a thrill to be among theses other AAC members, like Bayard Russel, Mike Libecki, Abbey Smith, Jason McDonald, Conor Smyth, Chris Serenari, and Chris Kendzierski in addition to Jim and Emily. I probably sound like a groupie.

I write this blog because I am a fan of other climbers. The mountains are made more interesting because of what you accomplish there and the stories you come back to tell. So to be alongside these climbers and associated with the other members of the AAC, well, the honor is all mine!

On another subject, I just started reading Freedom Climbers by Bernadette McDonald for myself, at long last. I’ll also be catching up on Alpinist 38 and I just got the latest issue of Climbing  in the mail. A new mountaineering book collectors group that I recently joined just started meeting this past week too. Lot’s going on and I’m sure there will be more to share about climbing, mountain literature and finding escapes from the mundane parts of Peaklessburg.

If you enjoyed this brief update, please consider following the Suburban Mountaineer on Facebook or Twitter. I’ll cover a lot more about human accomplishment in the mountains later and share other information on the social networking sites. Happy reading and carpe climb ’em!

Mortal Men Among Alpinists

/ Andrew Szalay / Leave a comment
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The Valley of Light. (All rights reserved)

Fast and light alpine ascents among jagged mountains are the pinnacle of climbing style in my book. Sending the biggest steep, cold walls by carrying all of your gear with you to reach to summit in one push is both an amazing feat and an ambitious undertaking. Hard alpine climbs are made up of boldness, courage, confidence, risk of frost bite, luck and hubris; close to heaven, but on the brink of certain death. While these climbs can be done in a variety of locations from Alaska to the Himalayas, the routes up Yosemite Valley’s walls rarely entered my daydreams.

While a daring alpinist and I are equally mortal, I’ve spent most of my life closer to earth doing less daring escapades. Sometimes I hated myself for that. My restless qualities wanted a cockiness that could say I can do it and I can still do it. But I’ve been coming to a new, toned-down place in life and I’ve been slowly accepting that. I’ve slowed down, climb less and put most of my energy toward my family and career. Along this path the strangest thing happened: The appeal of other kinds of climbing that I previously dismissed I grew to accept. So when I got the invitation to the International Climbers Meet, as all American Alpine Club members did, I thought a week in Yosemite with other climbers sounded like a great vacation!

Working in an flat, urban Peaklessburg is professionally satisfying but lacking in the fun of the outdoors, from hiking to skiing and everything in between. Getting away to Yosemite for a week for the price of airfare plus $450 for registration to cover your campsite in the Valley, three catered meals a day, and plenty of climbing by day and socializing by a campfire at night sounds like Sandals Resort or the Four Seasons for a repressed mountaineer.

I’d pack light, because less is more anytime, but especially when you need to get away. I’d grab my Jansport framepack and fit in the essentials: My Evolv rock shoes, BD harness, chalk bag, my favorite fleece pullover, that old Cat’s Meow bag (the one my wife used as a quilt when she was pregnant during one winter trip) and my favorite Major League Baseball cap. Then again, maybe I’d skip the chalk.

Suffering was an integral part of mountaineering to me for a while, though I never meant it to be. It’s still inseparable by necessity for the most progressive climbs, I suspect. But I think the other things I am seeking now, at the place in life I’m at today, could do well with a big day climb in Yosemite, followed by some story telling about the day’s saga where I reached higher than mortal earth. It would beat cramming into a tiny tent and suffering from altitude sickness.

Besides, even John Long talked of Yosemite’s healing powers in the 2012 issue of Ascent: “I have seen the beaten and forgotten, the vain and raging, the rich and arrogant and the hopelessly heartbroken, all made whole in the Valley of Light.”

Yes, I’ve gotten a little soft. And clearly, I need a vacation.

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A Persistent Cold in the Valley of the Sun

/ Andrew Szalay / Leave a comment

Piestewa Peak in Phoenix, AZ before the heat set in (Szalay 2012)

I brought the cold with me to the Valley of the Sun — the greater Phoenix, Arizona area. Sudafed came too. For my second business trip there in three months, I hoped this time I would get the chance to take-in the hills among all the housing developments and do a little suburban mountaineering for real, I supposed. You can’t walk from sidewalk to trail in Peaklessburg.

This time in Phoenix, I had the cool, early mornings to my advantage as my internal clock was still on east-coast time. So I could get an hour or two before putting on my business attire. The hurdle holding me back now was this lingering, nagging virus.

The morning before I flew home, I looked from my patio again up again to the low but attractive summit of Piestewa Peak, formerly Squaw Peak, in the Phoenix Mountain Park and Recreation Area. The air was still and about 70 degrees. It was 6:00 a.m. That was it!

I went. I coughed a lot. I felt more tired than when I left. But I got to tread the stony terrain, admire the cacti, stave off the fear of coming across a venomous snake, and take this picture above. About an hour afterwards, I was washed up, in my charcoal suit, talking policy and popping a decongestant. I slept on the plane without any regret. The business meetings were productive and I satisfied my curiosity about the rumored chossy rock. It was indeed.

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Mountain Drool: Bugaboo Spire

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I would like to know what Conrad Kain would think about the Baer Gryles deodorant commercial. If you haven’t seen the ad, Grylls (a.k.a. the boy that climbed Everest and Born Survivor in the United Kingdom but branded as Man vs. Wild in North America) runs cross country to an American desert rock wall and proceeds to climb it. The style, cinematography and monologue have been reminiscent of the Vertical Limit don’t-forget-the-explosives days. Kain died in 1934, but I know he would have told Grylls and the director, this commercial does represent climbing.

Kain would certainly point us to something less pretentious and more pure. I think he might have directed us here, where a false, or just inaccurate, image is difficult to carry: The image above is of what is possibly the most memorable peak in the Purcell Mountains — which are in Eastern British Colombia, parallel to, but not part of, the Canadian Rockies. This edition of Mountain Drool is about Bugaboo Spire.

The climb is classic alpine in the European sense, complete with nearby huts. It was first climbed by Kain in 1916 shortly after he was invited by the Alpine Club of Canada to come from Austria and climb in their backyard as a guide. He lead many parties up several peaks, but the Kain FA route up Bugaboo Spire’s south ridge is one of his most memorable. The region was called the Bugaboos because miners seeking useful metals only found a dead end. The ACC and Kain’s exploration instead found a new set of climbing opportunities.

While the northeast ridge, shown more prominently in the image, appears to be more popular today, the Kain route (seen partially on the left side of the picture) still offers several quality pitches with a long scrambling section and lots of exposure. All that through only about 1,400 ft./400 m. of ascent. The approach from the Conrad Kain hut has glacial hazards often necessitating roping up and wearing crampons.

Various sources list differing elevations for Bugaboo Spire. The heights listed by climbers on SummitPost.org and Peakbagger.com are conflicting and confusing. Toby Harper of the ACC helped clear it up somewhat. While not everyone’s figures matched up with all the details, some appear to take for granted that Bugaboo Spire does in fact have two peaks. According to The Bugaboo Spires, the definitive guidbook by Chris Atkinson and Marc Piché (2003), the higher south summit is 10,512 ft./3,204 m. SummitPost.org and Wikipedia apparently did their research.

Kain’s work wasn’t limited to Bugaboo Spire, of course. He lead many other routes in Canada and New Zealand. You can check more into his leadership in alpine climbing through this webpage by the Conrad Kain Centennial Society.

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Two Understated American Giants

/ Andrew Szalay / Leave a comment

Ed Viesturs and David Roberts (taken and shared with permission by Jana Kunicova)

Yes, I am crazy. I must be. I voluntarily sold my ticket — my only ticket — to see Ed Viesturs and David Roberts at National Geographic Live last night. The next two weeks ahead were getting busy at work in the evenings and that was taking away from my family time. So I went to my Peaklessburg support group — DC Mountain Madness — and offered it up.

Viesturs was a hero of mine when I started climbing in the mid-1990s. I bought my red Mountain Hardwear fleece jacket for the reasons baseball fans buy jerseys with their favorite players’ numbers on them. He doesn’t play the same role for me now he did when he was pursuing all 14 eight-thousanders, but he is still a role an hero for his approach to a wild pursuit that he balanced with a commitment to his life at home. His reputation for turning around many times when his gut said “this is bad,” and still being very successful at his goals is inspiring. That makes him appealing to many climbers, particularly amateurs. He is an example of stick-to-it-ive-ness.

Roberts is my favorite climbing writer. He also lead or was part of some legendary expeditions in Alaska, including the Harvard Route up the Denali’s north face and the Angel in the Revelation Mountains, a subrange of the Alaska Range, just to name two. I enjoy his books because they include rich history, great research and he tells all of it in such an insightful way. He makes his readers feel compelled to go on.

Viesturs and Roberts are two very different people and climbers. They came to Washington to speak on their latest book The Will to Climb, however they also talked about their other work together on No Shortcuts to the Top (2006) and K2 (2010), I was told. But while they are both articulate, well-educated men, they are very different climbers.

Since following Viesturs Endeavor 8,000 quest, I have learned more about climbing and learned that the kinds of climbs that make it into history books or the American Alpine Journal are special climbs. They are first ascents and original routes. Those were not the kind of climbs Viesturs pursued. At one time that was disappointing to me, but then I realized that I probably would not seek out the steepest, longest routes necessary to make a climb that is deemed significant today. Roberts, on the other hand, had pursued new steep routes in Alaska in the 1960s. As nerdy as Roberts is — and he is — he’s got street cred.

Viesturs sought out a whole other field of climbing. Rather than seeking challenging new routes, he pursued a tick list of the world’s biggest mountains. The route wasn’t critical. Reaching the top — legitimately reaching the top — was essential for quality of the accomplishment.  While American climbers celebrate him for being the first of their own to stand atop all 14 eight-thousanders without supplemental oxygen, it was ultimately a pursuit all his own.

Viesturs and Roberts are two American giants. I don’t feel the need to qualify that statement by adding “…in climbing.” They are accomplished climbers, accomplished writers, and I am glad they came to Washington to share their adventures and their experiences.

Oddly, though I have been a fan of these two men for about 20 years and I have never seen or met them in person, I don’t feel overly regretful that I wasn’t able to attend. I know much about them from their books and their articles elsewhere. Perhaps I also feel that I will get another opportunity. Perhaps its also because I have met so many interesting climbers over the past several years — thanks largely to social media and this blog. I suppose that even as they have moved on from climbing to other ventures, so have I.

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