Upsides and Trade Offs in the Valley of the Sun

/ Andrew Szalay / Leave a comment

My business trip earlier this week to Scottsdale, Arizona went well. It was nice to finally take in the area from beyond the airport and airplane windows. But, it was ultimately much shorter than I thought it might be and there wasn’t any time for real exploration.

I might try to return with my family and more time to play. I’d like to pack my golf shoes and rent clubs next time. I actually packed my rock climbing shoes in the far-fetched hopes of bouldering around Camelback Mountain — which is smack in the middle of town and was just down a block from my hotel — or drop into one of several indoor gyms. Unfortunately, because of a full day of flying and skipping lunch because of time differences, I didn’t eat until what is ordinarily my bedtime. The daylight was gone and the southwestern food satisfied me but left me feeling full; very full. Bed it was. Morning came, the gyms wouldn’t open until after my flight departed, so I strolled momentarily in the dawning light nearby Camelback before I caught my ride to the airport.

I walked past some of the nicest residential real estate in the area and thought how neat it would be to live right here, have a necktie job like the one I have now, and walk across the street to these stones. Actually, for me, this idea was entirely novel. It gets 115 degrees (F) in the summer here. I’m miserable whenever Peaklessburg gets over 90. Average temperatures and snowfall can make or break the location’s appeal for me. But the trade off of heat for rock suddenly seemed appealing. At the same time, it’s not snow country. That’s a ways away, so skiing and other winter sports would still be out of reach.

During my brief walk I was taken by how dry and still everything seemed to be. According to my cab driver, it usually is. I say this because it’s amazing that in such a dry, rocky environment, the two forces that most shape the landscape is what it seems to lack most days — wind and water.

The notion of urban climbing was never more relevant than at this moment. Urban climbing on the east coast means gym training, really. But here — and doubtless other places in the western portion of North America — it means something more literal. You don’t have to pack up the Subaru and drive four hours to climb a little. Here, you can pull off the side of the road after work, then go to the Fashion Center on East Camelback Road for dinner and a drink or head home.

Of course climbing in the summertime would be impossible, I suspect. The rock would be too hot. So it it’s not one thing, it’s another.

It’s nothing like Vermont or Alaska — where I daydream the most. It’s different. I can’t tell if I am drawn to it because I like it or because I’m curious. By contrast from what I am accustomed to, it is a curious place.

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Alaska’s Unique Pioneer Style

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Denali's North Face as seen from a bush plane (TiresiasZ, 2006).

The best part about flying across the country is the time you get to shut off from the digitally-connected world to be left alone with your thoughts… Or your book. That is if you can resist paying the $7.95 for the WiFi connection. I didn’t give the airline the pleasure of having more of my money so I read some of Alpinist 37 and day dreamed about Alaska.

On that subject… there are several things that I like about Alaska above all other mountain-adventure destinations. It’s vast wilderness, it’s northern climate, and all the features that come with a remote, low-populated area. Compared to the Himalayas, Alps or Andes, there are few established communities that rely on and live in the mountain environment.

I don’t remember where I read this (though I wish I did at the moment,) but I realize its true, the Himalayas by contrast have several mountain villages scattered throughout the mountains. While those village residents rarely visit or rely on the mountains, they change the nature of climbing and trekking expeditions to the region. The villages provide milestones on a journey (if you’re romantic, they offer rustic culture). Alaska on the other hand, doesn’t have this. The Intuit, Haida and other Native Alaskans didn’t settle in mountain passes and consider such terrain simply white, treeless obstacles, but not the kind that dares you to overcome it.

Getting yourself to Alaskan climbing destinations in the Alaska Range, Wrangel Mountains or Revelations is often done by bush planes landing on glaciers or sand bars, depending on the time of year and conditions of the snowpack and river flow. This isn’t done in the Himalayas; helicopters are more common and the air density at the base of the mountains varies from route to route, and in some cases makes flight to that elevation too dangerous to attempt if not physically impossible. While the first glacier landing by bush plane was relatively early in Alaskan climbing history, in 1932 by Alan Carpe, there are routes that still necessitate starting the climb the old fashioned way… from the nearest road, on foot, oftentimes days away, with big packs. When David Roberts and Don Jenson and attempted Mount Deborah in the 1960s, they actually carried more gear than they could carry on their backs; they shuttled packs by carrying one pack at a time, dropping it off, returning for the other and repeat.

Dropping supplies by bush plane was a common practice through the 1960s for well-organized expeditions. This enabled a team to get part way up their chosen route without having to carry all the food and cooking fuel in their packs. However, it was inefficient and littering. Oftentimes the air dropped packages where smashed on impact, with canned goods opened and spoiling. Other times packages were never found. The practice has since been discontinued officially in some parts, like Denali National Park, and unofficially in others thanks to Leave No Trace ethics (which always makes me think of climbers choosing to leave a pack or extra ice axe up high out of a matter of convenience).
But walking in — what climbing guide author and former Denali Ranger, Jonathan Waterman, calls “Alaskan pioneer style” — is still necessary for access to Denali’s north face, Wickersham Wall, and long approaches from roads are required for other regions too, especially where there are no landing areas suitable for bush planes. And as Waterman points out repeatedly in High Alaska, it’s often the approach — especially the hazards or river crossings — that are more consistently life threatening than the ascents and descents.

Again by comparison, last I checked, the most common hazards en route to K2 or Broad Peak is the altitude and the food and water quality in Askole. Bears, river crossings, tussock fields, and an angry mother moose… They’re is nothing else like North America’s far north.

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Cold and Controversy

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I’ve been thinking about the four expeditions working on the Himalayan 8,000ers. If they are having as mild of a summer there as we are here in North America (especially here in Peaklessburg,) then the teams might succeed in getting the first winter ascents. Of course, the season is not the only factor.

With work and my new training schedule, I have struggled to find time to catch-up on what has been happening in climbing news lately, but one story has been inescapable. A simple passing over the headlines kept bringing me to news about the Compressor Route.

In case you’ve been climbing somewhere remote without your smartphone or stuck in endless business meetings, here’s the recap: The controversy began in 1970 when Cesare Maestri climbed the Southeast Face of Cerro Torre in Patagonia with the aide of a compressor drill weighing nearly 100 lbs. The route has been heavily bolted and the drill has hung along the route ever since. Since then, the route has become one of the most popular routes up Cerro Torre. The appropriateness of the bolts have been debated ever since.

Fast forward to January 2012 and Hayden Kennedy and Jason Kruk climbed the route and chopped about one hundred of the bolts on their descent. The reactions have been mixed. Some praised them for restoring the wall and others criticized them for ruining what was essentially a great sport route. The police detained the two alpinists for a brief time as well. Then, days later, David Lama with partner Peter Ortner successfully freed the Compressor (or is it Formerly Compressor?) Route, while the debate on the Kennedy-Kruk climb went on.

What I don’t understand is the acceptability of placing permanent bolts in the first place. I realize blank faces have few options for protection. This isn’t a subject I’m experienced in. The only place I’ve ever climbed with bolts is the gym. Plus, my focus on alpine mountaineering, for the most part, hasn’t discussed the ethics of bolting on routes. Perhaps you can shed some light on the subject for me.

News on the four attempts to bag the first winter ascents of the unclimbed 8,000 meter peaks has been harder to come by, at least through the main news sites. In short the stories are still unfolding. The saddest news, and most significant to date, came from the Polish expedition; one of their climbers died on Nanga Parbat. So there is more to follow with the Russians on K2, the two expeditions on Nanga Parbat and the international team on Gasherbrum I.

Well, thanks for dropping by once again. If you enjoyed this post, and the many others, please consider following the Suburban Mountaineer on Facebook or Twitter. Happy reading and carpe climb ’em!

Groundhog Day, La Nina and Helmcken Falls

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We have a strange tradition in North America called Groundhog Day. This is where some town officials from rural Pennsylvania (and some other communities too) use a large rodent, a groundhog, as a matter of fact — although Alaska uses Marmots — to predict the weather. If said rodent, Punxsutawney Phil, sees his shadow after emerging from his hole on February 2nd, Americans and Canadians are subject to six more weeks of winter. To which, Punxsatawney Phil heads back into his hole to “sleep in,” and we skiers and ice climbers can bask in the extended winter wonderland.

However, with this winter being so mild here in Peaklessburg, so what…?

Fortunately, conditions have been right in some places. For the most part. Tim Emmett has been able to climb the unworldly ice cave at Helmcken Falls in British Colombia. Though the precipitation has turned to rain for a few days, changing conditions.

I expect next winter there will be plenty of snow, particularly in Vermont for the Stowe Derby. At least I seriously hope so. I can’t imagine two seasons in a row like this.

Commitment to Training

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Quick Note: I’m pages away from finishing One Mountain Thousand Summits by Freddie Wilkinson. Every time I’ve opened the book thinking I’m going to finish it — which has been four or five times in the last couple of days — Wunderkind wakes up from a nap or needs some special attention. I’m okay with the interruptions, actually. I’ve learned from Stephen King that reading is sometimes done in swallows, sometimes in sips.

I am also about 90 days away from the 10K race I’ll be running in April. This run will be the first milestone on my year-long plan to go from sedentary Washington, DC professional and armchair mountaineer, to being an active and fit husband and father.

The challenge to continuing to workout and train throughout the year is really about consistency and not getting bored with routine. Great athletes in professional sports, like Derek Jeter, Alex Ovechkin or Tiger Woods for example, have a tolerance and appreciation for routine. It allows them to focus on their game performance because all the factors of life are worked into a steady, somewhat predictable routine. For the most part, they all establish their way to prepare for an event and they don’t deter from it. Same meal, same warm up, same schedule, sometimes even the same music.

Preparing for the mountains is a bit trickier because the challenges we seek vary from location to location — unlike ball parks and ice rinks. Are you preparing for an Alaskan peak or a Colorado 14er? The training may be similar, but the time in preparing and the time that you need to be at your peak performance will be different; Alaskan expeditions tend to require more time commitment and therefore you need a bigger base of strength and reserves.

I’m preparing for the 2013 Stowe Derby. It’s a wacky skiing event where you ski down Vermont’s Mount Mansfield and then through town to the finish line. You have to commit before the race to compete on either skinny skis (nordic) or downhill skis. I’m going to ride and skate on my nordics. At least that way I’ll have an easier time on the level ground.

The race isn’t until February 2013 but it’s a goal that motivates me. Hopefully, I can develop a routine around this that I doesn’t bore me and that I have an inner desire to return to even after I get injured, sick or when work gets too busy for a brief season. Right now, I’m just running and doing some modest strength training. I already see benefits from my initial training, but sticking with it may be the toughest part, for any of us.

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Denali’s Hardest Routes

/ Andrew Szalay / 3 Comments
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The peak formerly known as Mount McKinley. (All rights reserved)

I just learned that my favorite climbing writer, David Roberts and one of the climbers I admire most, Ed Viesturs, is coming to National Geographic headquarters this spring to talk about their new book, The Will to Climb. Edelweiss gave me my copy for Christmas. I’m pretty excited and am looking forward to going. Also — and perhaps more significantly — Gerlinde Kaltenbrunner will also be presenting on another night! But onto my main topic…

Not too long ago I was amused by a comment from Barbara Washburn — an alpinist and the wife of the late Bradford Washburn — in her book The Accidental Adventurer. She and her husband spent quite a bit of time climbing Mount McKinley/Denali around the 1950s, so she became quite familiar with it in terms of its size, mass and features. Later, when she and her husband made a pilgrimage to take-in Mount Everest, she quickly compared the two peaks and she sounded disappointed by the higher mountain.

While Everest is an impressive three-sided pyramid (in its most basic form), Denali is a mutli-faceted gemstone, with big walls, mini-big walls, numerous hanging glaciers and several knife-edge ridges. It’s complex. Like Barbara Washburn, we recognize Everest’s significance as the world’s highest point and Denali’s as one of the Seven Summits — the “roof” of North America. Both are big destinations, but Denali offers a bigger playground.

It’s also so complex that it has a spectrum of challenging routes established. While the West Buttress (Alaska Grade 2: 50 degrees 13,100 feet) is acknowledged as the most conservative route, Denali’s temptations only start there. To get a sense of the range of challenges, I wondered what were the most difficult routes on the mountain. All but one are on the massive south face:

Cassin Ridge — This route is cliche to some, partly because it was listed in Fifty Classic Climbs of North America. It was listed because it offers all the elements of a great Alaskan climb! It offers 65 degree snow and ice, knife edge exposure and some 5.8 rock. The first ascent by Riccardo Cassin in 1961 pushed he and his team to their limit and it gave them a little frostbite with their glory. The Cassin Route is rated Alaska Grade 5: 5.8 65 degrees.)

Canadian Direct — This route is the newest on this list. Maxime Turgeon and Louis-Philippe “LP” Menard climbed this line in 2006. The line starts up from the Kahiltnak Glacier’s East Fork and up a pillar to the left of the Japanese Direct and right of the American Direct. The ascent is nearly 8,000 feet, and the rock quality reportedly decent (odd for much of Alaska), even though Turgeon reports seeing some rockfall. The route is rated as Alaska Grade 6: M6 5.9.

Slovak Direct — This used to be referred to as the Czech Direct and is the straightest line from base to summit on the mountain. It was first climbed in 1984 by Czecholslovakian alpinists Blazej Adam, Tono Krizo and Franktisek Korl, with the help of a support team on the south buttress. The ascent typically takes several days, and after the first two camps, the rest were mere ice ledges. More recently, the name appears to have been adjusted to reflect the climbers’ proper region and nationality. Interestingly, shortly after the climb, Adam commented that he had done harder routes in Europe. (I think Steve House would disagree.) Slovak Direct is rated Alaska Grade 6: M5 WI6 5.9, 8,500 feet.

Denali Diamond — The route was founded in 1983 by Rolf Graage who felt he had a lot to prove to himself as an alpinist. Graage and guide Bryan Becker climbed for 37 pitches including a 25-foot A3 roof. In 2002, Ian Parnell and Kenton Cool (who sent the first tweet from Everest’s summit, incidentally) did the second ascent in five days — much shorter than the first assault at 17 days. Only a handful of teams have completed the line since because it’s clearly committing and only the experienced or insanely ambitious (I think you can be both) make the attempt. It’s rated Alaska Grade 6: 5.9 A3, 7,800 feet.

Harvard Route — This is — in my assessment — the most dangerous route on the mountain. If the conditions are right, and it’s climbed competently, it might not deserve to be on the list with Slovak Direct and Denali Diamond. But the Harvard Route on Denali has not been repeated. The route is on the north face — on the Wickersham Wall, one of the largest continuous walls in the world. The Harvard Route is unstable. It’s subject to significant rockfall and frequent avalanches. The team that climbed it, from the Harvard Mountaineering Club, climbed in a pleasant state of being naïve to the real dangers. They had never been on a big mountain before and thought the hazards they observed were just all part of the adventure! The route is rated Alaska Grade 4+: 5.5, A1 50 degrees, 14,900 feet.

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Sources: 1) Waterman, Jonathan, High Alaska: A Historical Guide to Denali, Mount Foraker and Mount Hunter, AAC Press, 1996; 2) Beckwith, Christian, “Denali Diamond; The New Cassin?” Alpinist July 6, 2007; 3) Turgeon, Maxime, “Mt. Foraker and Denali,” Alpinist, November 27, 2006.