The Ledge: A Review and Daydream of Liberty Ridge

/ Andrew Szalay / Leave a comment

I recently finished reading The Ledge: An Adventure Story of Friendship and Survival on Mount Rainier by Jim Davidson and Kevin Vaughan (2011). It’s a very good story about, well, just what the subtitle says.

What it doesn’t say — and only climbers can appreciate it in these terms — is that it’s about a beautiful climb up the legendary Liberty Ridge route and a horrible, fluke accident on the descent that anyone that has crossed a glacier can, at a minimum identify with the fear.

The timing of the release of this book was impeccable for me because I’ve been obsessing over Mount Rainier this past few months. The key event in the book is about how Davidson and his friend and partner Mike Price fell into a deep crevasse and Davidson’s amazing self rescue. The rescue — or rather, the escape — is the central action part of the story and must be read to fully appreciate, so I will say no more. The Ledge‘s theme of friendship gets at the heart of a relationship that can only be forged through challenging adventures like mountaineering. Davidson and Vaughn really honor the memory of Mike Price in this tale.

Aside from themes, the book also provides ample fuel for a mountain daydream of a climb up Mount Rainier’s steep Liberty Ridge on its north face. This route was one that I hoped to climb one day. It has been called an alpine classic by Steve Roper and Allen Steck in Fifty Classic Climbs of North America (1996). Of course, I never thought of an accident happening after an ascent on this route, as happened in the book. It goes to show how many hazards there are up there.

The Liberty Ridge rises from the Carbon Glacier 5,500 feet, separates the 4,000-foot Willis Wall to its eastern flank and the nearly-as-large Liberty Wall to its west. It ascends sustained 55-degree slopes, not including brief steeper portions to get around Thumb Rock (10,760 ft.) The route turns to exclusively snow and hard ice up toward Black Pyramid (12,400). The ridge meets the Liberty Cap Glacier at 13,000 feet, where the summit (14,410 ft.), Colombia Crest, is reachable.

Davidson and Vaughn make the climb sound sublime and challenging for an experienced climber. I recommend reading the book for this part alone, and to learn about Davidson’s and Price’s surprise bivy location over the Liberty Wall — that’s actually something I’d like to duplicate, though I probably wouldn’t do so intentionally either.

Overall, The Ledge is a very good story to enjoy whether you’re a climber, an armchair mountaineer, or are fascinated by human perseverance. You can’t go wrong.

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Sources: 1) Davidson, Jim and Kevin Vaughn, The Ledge: An Adventure Story of Friendship and Survival on Mount Rainier, Ballantine Books, 2011; 2) Roper, Steve and Allen Steck, Fifty Classic Climbs of North America, Sierra Club, 1996; and 3) Gauthier, Mike, Mount Rainier: A Climbing Guide, The Mountaineers, 1999.

Speed Records in Climbing

/ Andrew Szalay / Leave a comment

Did you see the article on speed records in the New York Times this past Saturday? It was surprisingly well told by Sean Patrick Farrell. Ordinarily, I don’t get that much out of climbing stories told through mainstream media.

The article, titled “A New Tool for Mountain Climbers: A Stopwatch,” summarizes the debate surrounding speed records in mountain climbing and does so rather objectively too.

Ferrell reviews the mind set of those climbers that seek to climb “a bit faster or with purer style.” He also recognized that, to some audiences, speed records are contrary to the nature of what the climbing experience ought to be. But he also points out through examples that those who seek the shortest times do so either for themselves or for their sponsors or are motivated by the glamour of the status.

I have my preferences of what an ideal mountain experience is — we all do — and I never want to knock the “progressive” new trend whether it’s speed, weight, or fancy equipment. That’s because the trend can be 1) often fun to follow, 2) a noteworthy athletic performance, and 3) pushing the limits of what we believed was possible. Out of that we sometimes find some real, substantive result from the accomplishment.

However, I can’t stand “progressive” approaches, like speed climbing or extreme light hiking, when someone or some message conduit promotes or represents it as not only the way of the future, but the only way of the future. Maybe that’s just my perception of the media’s power (since I can’t think of any concrete examples.) But in terms of the progressive nature in outdoors sports, consider the light-weight hiking movement: Just because trail running shoes are lighter doesn’t necessarily mean I’m comfortable giving up my beloved traditionally-styled, full-grain leather boots. (These days, I actually hike mainly, though not exclusively, in my classic New Balance 461s.)

As for the speed record issue specifically, we all ought to respect the general idea that spending less time on the mountain reduces the chances that something will go wrong while climbing. As Peter Bernstein says in his book, Against the Gods: The Remarkable Story of Risk, time is on the other side of the coin of risk. But less time — over the same amount of ground and elevation-gained — can also introduce risk factors that otherwise would not be in play on a slower-paced traverse, such missing clues to identifying a crevasse.

I enjoy speed records; they are easy to understand and to be stand in awe over. But for me, it’s not my style and certainly not the future for everyone else. For those that race the clock, good luck. Just be sure you do it for yourself.

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Rock Climbing in Peaklessburg

/ Andrew Szalay / 5 Comments

I don’t own a pair of rock climbing shoes. I’ve rented them all my climbing life. I know; it’s probably a little embarrassing for me to admit this here. The reason is while I’ve climbed rock, I’ve always glamorized snow and ice routes above rock. That’s why I invested in plastic mountaineering boots years ago rather than “summer” gear. I now think I’ve arrived at a place where I need to put a pair of shoes with sticky rubber in my rucksack.

Part of my reasoning is that rock climbing is much more popular and accessible than general mountaineering, ice climbing and alpine climbing. Climbing magazine always covers way more rock routes and profile rock climbers than snow and ice routes and true alpinists. That’s always been an issue for me when I crave the high, cold stuff.

Yet, recently I started looking at the rock stories with new interest. I began broadening my view of climbing, even while I write mainly about alpine climbs because that is what I dream about. Getting to the top of high, icy and snowy peaks is what climbing has always been about to me — ultimately I still believe that. But that’s hardly what is accessible around here in Peaklessburg. Our nation’s capital is mainly flat except for the shallow gorge and waterfalls formed by the Potomac River west of Washington, DC. Great Falls, VA and Carderock, MD offer about a hundred top roping climbs. A little further out are some modest crags in Shenandoah National Park. Further still are climbs in West Virginia, like Seneca Rocks.

There are also climbing gyms in the area for training that have good reputations. I think I might have to hit ’em up and take advantage of some instruction. Hopefully their reputation is partly due to their instructors. I’ll let you know.

While my ideal climbs are cold climate routes, I think I am starting to figure out how to make the most of living in a flat, hot and humid, urban area. Part of it might be embracing — even if not fully adopting — the regional tradition for rock climbing.

I’m not a diehard rock climber and don’t see that changing. I still won’t be aspiring to send big walls in Squamish, though I think those that do deserve a lot of respect. Some gym training and some outdoor top rope routes would be nice. Maybe I’ll get the nerve up to lead climb again one day.

So I’ll be pulling out my old Gear Guides from Climbing as a starting point. If you’ve got any advice, let me know…

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Now is the Best Time to Be a Climber

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If you’re not Sir Edmund Hillary or a member of Maurice Herzog’s Annapurna expedition team, you might have a longing for the time when giant mountains were mostly unclimbed and adventures of historic proportions were still ripe for the making. This is a sentimental perspective; one that doesn’t have to be so disappointing.

I used to be wistful about this notion but not any more. I used to wish I was born sixty years ago when world travel was a novelty and mountains were waiting to be summitted. When mountaineering was even more obscure than it is today and outfitting for an expedition meant contacting someone in Europe who would hand make your crampons and supply your rope. Travelling to the objective required trains with sleeper cars, flights with many landings for refuelings and long backpacking hikes into the wilderness. It’s romantic in many ways, but even more so in hindsight.

Actually, now is the best time to be a mountaineer. Now is also the best time to be an armchair mountaineer.

Remote destinations are more reachable than ever before thanks to modern airlines and travel networks worldwide. Photographs of mountains, beta and accounts from previous attempts (or at least observations about the possibilities for a fresh attempt) have never been more accessible thanks to the Internet. Lastly, it’s not so lonely any more being the only mountain climbing obsessed person within your circle of friends and family thanks to the spread of climbing gyms, outfitter chains spreading across the country, social networks like Facebook and Twitter, and the expansion in membership of the American Alpine Club.

The big routes have been done, but if you long for old romance, the stories are within reach on a book shelf. If you long for the challenging climb, they are waiting to be climbed by you. If you’re looking for a partner, he or she is probably looking for you too.

Now is the time to live as a climber, whether you’re actively climbing or just dreaming about it.

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What If: Mount Rainier Eruption

/ Andrew Szalay / 2 Comments

One feature of Mount Rainier that I haven’t covered yet and think is fascinating is its volcanic nature. More specifically, what would happen if it erupted before some of us ever get to stand on top.

The living model is Mount Saint Helens, which — as you probably know — erupted on May 1980. The eruption caused lahars (mudflows) to surge through a significant portion of the state of Washington. The news footage from the event makes me appreciate the various powers of earth, just as do other phenomena like glaciers, mountain slopes, rain storms and even sunshine. They all have a significant impact on the landscape.

While most think of lava, ash, and pumice as the biggest threats from Mount Rainier, it’s actually flooding and lahars. In fact, just a pressure explosion from trapped underground steam — rather than a major eruption involving lava — would melt the vast snow and ice reservoirs on the mountain sides in the form of glaciers, snowfall and snow fields. One of the largest glaciers, the Emmons alone is six miles long, two wide and several hundred feet deep. That’s a lot of water!

The glacier melting and mixing with the soil and rock on the mountain’s slopes would quickly overwhelm the surrounding area. It’s estimated that Orting, Washington would be struck by mudflows in one-to-two hours after a steam eruption. The town could be hit by a lahar 30 feet deep and be left buried in 15 feet of moist soil and debris. Though other estimates claim that Rainier has potential to send lahars that are 100 feet deep and they might move at a rate of 45 to 50 miles per hour.

Population-wise, the three-plus million residents around Puget Sound are the most at-risk from the mudflows that could come down the Carbon, Payallup, Nisqually and Green Rivers. 150,000 people live atop previous mudflows, and some of them having done excavating for a variety of reasons have said that they have dug up entire tree trunks and stumps in the ground. If an eruption were to occur, this group or residents would have to be notified to evacuate as quickly as possible as there will be little-to-no warning of an eruption of any kind based on current forecasting and technology. To help prevent greater impact to more people, there are attempts to limit community development in the at-risk paths.

In the end, Rainier won’t remain over two-and-a-half miles high. The Seattle skyline will have been changed and one of our classic climbing destinations will have been forever changed. While the odds are low for an eruption anytime soon, according to experts, when the event comes, it will be powerful.

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

Sources: 1) Filley, Bette, The Big Fact Book About Mount Rainier: Fascinating Facts, Records, Lists, Topics, Characters and Stories, Dunamis House, 1996; and 2) “Mount Rainier: Learning to Live with Volcanic Risk,” NationalAtlas.gov.

Climbing Competitions: The Good and the Bad

/ Andrew Szalay / Leave a comment

First off, Happy Thanksgiving to my Canadian friends and Happy Columbus Day to my fellow Americans.

I followed this past weekend’s International Federation of Sport Climbers (IFSC) World Cup through Facebook and Twitter thanks to the coverage by the American Alpine Club (AAC), a main sponsor, and Climbing magazine. I’ve never followed one before and it was a neat introduction to sport climbing, though my opinion of climbing competitions hasn’t changed too much.

Climbing is a skill and a good method of improving that skill is through competition. Historically this has been done through self-challenge and climbers pushing outside of their comfort zone in front of their peers. Charlie Houston, Yvon Chouinard, Royal Robbins and others are good examples climbers that have done this. Achieving a first ascent or putting up a new route on a natural feature was an accomplishment that often stood on its own merits, though recognition was often limited to other knowledgeable climbers.

Organized competitions, on the other hand, offer a great opportunity to measure one’s skills against another climbers’. Many skill-based occupations have competitions that pit one specialist against another, such as fire fighters, pilots, chefs and so forth. Climbing is now no different.

However, climbing has long held the cultural place of being a space of semi-private accomplishments and that they are only a subject for insiders. As climbing has evolved and even expanded (thanks to gyms and sponsorships of athletes) the sport climbing arena has adopted a contrasting environment likened to high profile marathons, like the one in Chicago also this past weekend.

Climbing competitions certainly raise the bar for the competitors, but it’s important to remember that the accomplishments at comp events and the achievements on rock in the backcountry are very different. One is a wilderness experience and the other seems to be like being at a ski resort. Competitions play a unique role in the lives of some climbers, but for others it can be the antithesis of what climbing is really about.

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