The high life
Paring down and psyching up for alpine climbing
By David Pagel
The crux move has you momentarily stymied. You ease back down to a good rest to puzzle it out. Technically, this 15-foot headwall is hardly Mensa material, the holds are all visible -- in fact, you've free-climbed sequences like this a thousand times before. But this time the holds are wet with meltwater from a ribbon of black ice nestled like an adder in the recesses of a crack. Which brings up another distressing point -- your hands are numb. And the pack definitely isn't helping matters. That freeloading hump has you gripped in a full-nelson that's sapping your strength, limiting your flexibility,and throwing your sense of balance dangerously out of whack.
Suddenly, the solution to the crux is obvious: slam in a piece of gear, grab the sling, and yard up as if the hounds of hell are at your heels.
After all, these are the mountains, and the rules in the alpine arena can be distilled into just three words: Speed is life.
Graduation time
Successfully completing an alpine climb is like gaining a diploma. First you study and practice a number of diverse skills, then the time comes to put them all together and see if you've got what it takes to make it in the real world. In school you only dreamed of a class schedule like this: rock climbing, ice climbing, wilderness survival, meteorology, graduate-level psychology. Hopefully you didn't skip many classes, as graduating to the mountains is a serious reality check; the cushy days of bomber pro, T-shirt weather, and bumper belays are behind you.
Prerequisites: rock and ice
Before venturing into the mountains, you're going to have to develop some solid rock skills. How solid? Solid enough to move quickly, placing all your own gear, while wearing a pack. Put simply, if the top end of your trad climbing ability is 5.10 without a pack, think 5.6 or lower for the mountains. Humbling, perhaps, but ratings don't take into account loose or wet rock, verg las, snow-packed ledges, or any of the other million-and-one unforeseen difficulties.
Ice is the glue that holds the alpine world together, and its consistency is constantly shifting and evolving from bullet-hard blue ice to sugar-like mash. You need to be familiar with murmounting all of its forms.
One way to fill any gaps in your experience is to seek out and toprope the kinds of ice you'd normally shun. Rotten, sun-chewed ice (but not something in danger of imminent collapse) can help you discover the possibilities and limitations of climbing with an adze, which gives you more shear strength in soft conditions. If you can find something like this kicked back at alow angle, try to get up it sans crampons by step-kicking; if the slushy surface layer isn't deep enough, try chopping some steps. Climb with just one tool. Almost any winter environment can be a training ground. If a guy like me, confined to the barren wastes of Minnesota, can learn how to self-arrest by sneaking onto ski hills after hours, or divine the basics of deadmen, pickets,and glacier travel by traversing frozen lakes and rivers, anyone can learn these skills.
Speed
Another argument for moderation: The quantity and quality of protection will almost certainly be poorer on an alpine climb than at the crags. It's not only that you can't find placements every few feet, you just don't have the time for them anyway. Futzing around putting in too much gear can mean the difference between sitting out the afternoon thunderstorm back in your tent, or being pinned to the wall wreathed by electric charges.
Your rack should be shaved back to an efficient selection of Stoppers, a few cams, and some ice screws, leaving you no choice but to run it out a little. If you're not able to move confidently and competently without overprotecting, you're in over your head.
Another way to pick up steam is to rethink the way you look at a pitch.
Scope it in terms of speed. Where once you looked for the challenging crux, now you see the easy way around; where once there might have been two short pitches you now envision a full ropelength; instead of four protection points you now see four quick aid possibilities. The "French-free" technique, where you pull on gear to overcome short difficulties, exemplifies the alpine mind-set (figure 1).
Speed is safety, but there is a fine line between moving quickly and rushing things. Take the time to make moves deliberately and to place solid gear, to look at the weather changes, and to consider your retreat options from every new pitch.The approachWhenever the 19th-century astronomer Dr. Jules-Cesar Janssen wanted to visit his famous observatory on the summit of Mont Blanc, he was carried by bearers or pulled up in a sled every step of the way. You're not so lucky.
You're going to need to know how to get around and survive in the wilderness with a map and compass. Much of your terrain may be off trail.Once you leave a hiking trail, bushwhacking, scree, snow slopes, and glacier travel are all par for the course. Glaciers in particular will require some specialized skills best learned from a guide or a patient mentor.
Negotiating a dry glacier -- one with bare, gray ice exposed on the surface -- is pretty straightforward because the dangers are all staring you in the face (although in a pre-dawn murk you may still have a hard time recognizing them). If there's any snow at all covering the surface, you're entering the alpine equivalent of a mine field. Only a fool ventures onto a snow-covered glacier without being roped up and well versed in crevasse rescue (see Technique, No. 176). Basic rules for glacier travel include: keeping slack out of the rope when moving together, and using a hip or boot-axe belay to cross any questionable snow bridges or to protect crevasse jumps (figure 2). Always have an axe in hand (not ski poles!) and know how to use it for self-arresting or anchoring. If someone does drop into a hole, prusik slings should be readily
available and extraction techniques should be second knowledge.
Hunting around for the start of your route in the dark or half-light of dawn can put you behind schedule before you've even begun. You should be intimate with your route, either from photographs or from studying it in person. Pay close attention to the topography around the base (gullies, boulders, snowfields, etc.) as well as to any distinctive features on the mountain itself(including crack systems, rock scars, and watermarks). Plan your approach to use the most obvious and recognizable landmarks. If you can scout some or all of it the evening before, so much the better.If a nasty bergschrund is involved, the last step of an alpine approach maybe the trickiest. A bergschrund is a yawning crevasse formed where a glacier or snowfield has melted or calved away from a rock or ice wall.
Sometimes,
such as beneath the North Face of the Grand Teton, starting the route low and to the side can eliminate the scary bergschrund crossing quite handily. More often, the only solution is to descend into the moat until it is possible to stem across and climb up the opposite side. When the slope is in your favor, a boot-axe belay from below the 'schrund is usually sufficient to safeguard the leader (figure 3). A bergschrund is no different than any other crevasse; undercut edges and/or false bottoms are always a possibility. It is also a natural funnel for falling rock and ice.The ascentThe best way to save time is to move steadily, without frequent breaks. For example, stopping to constantly put on and take off crampons wastes a lot of time and energy. If you can move securely when ice turns to rock without having to remove your crampons you'll enjoy a huge advantage. Similarly, if you can quickly chop a few steps to pass the odd icy spot amidst a lot of rock climbing without resorting to crampons, you'll be ahead of the game. Practice mixed climbing on toprope, placing crampons on rock ledges and nubbins, using ice tools to hook ledges and cracks. The training will reward you with security and speed in the mountains. And don't forget to improvise with your ice tools: whether on ice or rock an ice axe is a valuable extensionof your hands, and works wonderfully for hooking that just-out-of-reach piton.Climbing with a pack is a fact of life in the alpine world, but you don't need to wear it all the time. In tight chimneys you can hang the pack beneath you on a long sling, and on crux pitches you may need to leave it behind and haul it up after reaching a good stance.
You'll also be simul-climbing. Primarily a technique for covering moderate or easy ground quickly, simul -climbing is more than just both climbers moving at the same time. It is a running belay: the leader still puts in gear, the second takes it out. When the rack is almost used up, the leader sets an anchor, brings up the second, and they either re-rack or switch places
(figure 4).
When simul-climbing on tricky terrain you may need to coil up half of the rope and tie into your harness with a figure-8-on-a-bight and two locking biners. That way you and your partner can stay within earshot and reduce rope drag. If the leader is placing gear or coming up against steeper terrain, the second may have to slow down to keep a dangerous loop of rope from
forming.Similarly, when the second is taking out gear or negotiating a bit of hard ground, the leader may have to pause a moment or establish a quick belay to protect his partner up those few moves before climbing on.
Even on easy ground, keep a piece or two of protection between you and yourpartner -- consider the fate of Uly Wyss and Heinz Gonda. The Swiss-German duo were only a few feet short of the summit of the Eiger in 1953 when one or the other began to slide. Roped together, they both fell nearly a mile back down to the base of the wall. Historians eventually credited Wyss and Gonda with the 12th ascent of the Eigerwand (as well the first complete descent).
Small consolation.RoutefindingAlpine routes, like rock climbs, link distinctive features and weaknesses, but in the mountains everything is on a massive scale -- a finger-lock becomes a 50-foot-wide couloir, an "outside edge" translates into a broadridge. It's up to the alpinist to decide the fastest and safest route up or along these features. Typically, the best line will be the path of least resistance; however, conditions and objective dangers may dictate different alternatives at different times. An obvious low-angle gully may be swept by icefall, so you might prefer the ridge to its right. Fixed gear can be an indication of where others have gone, but beware of red herrings. My partner and I once wasted hours on the Alps' Walker Spur dicking around investigating pin lines that led nowhere, instead of trusting our instincts for the obvious line. The delay cost us the climb.More often, routefinding problems occur when there is no evidence of previous climbing activity. To avoid error, scrutinize the route through binoculars, study photographs, or memorize route descriptions prior to starting up. Try to interpret what you see while climbing and fit the information into a mental image of the entire mountain.
Bivouacs
Lugging bivouac gear along as a precautionary measure on a day climb is planning for defeat, and because of the extra weight and diminished fear of being benighted, it often becomes a self-fulfilling act. On climbs where you plan to spend at least one night out, a bivy sack, a light sleeping bag, and astove for melting snow are necessary burdens. Whether you end up lying flat, twisted in a ball, or perched upright for the night, the important thing is to get some insulation between you and ground. The back-length foam pad from a pack is great for sitting on. When lying down, you can use a pile of ropes to cushion the area beneath your legs.
On cold or snowy routes, a light foam sleeping pad can be worth the extra weight. Of course, the surest way to stay warm during a bivouac -- although most male climbers would rather endure a slow, free zing death than contemplate it -- is to take turns spooning with your partner.
MPI Outdoor Safety Products makes a 3-ounce bivy sack that can act as an emergency shelter from wind and rain; it's light enough to be worth bringing on an exposed mountain route (see Just Out, p. 148).
The descent
Unless you've just climbed the Aiguille du Midi above Chamonix, after which you'll have time to grab a hot dog and a French lager before catching the next cable car down, reaching the summit means half the battle still remains.Perhaps it is not the most difficult half, but often it becomes the most dangerous. You're tired, your mental guard is down, the afternoon sun is cutting loose salvos of stonefall into every gully, and the surfaces of the glaciers and snowfields have turned to mush. An accident is just one inattentive moment or lapse in judgement away.
If rappels are necessary, check every knot and anchor point thoroughly for its security. If you're low on gear and forced to use a single-point anchor,try to install an unweighted safety backup, then send the big guy down first (figure 5). If everything seems safe, the second person may feel comfortable removing the backup. But leave extra gear when you can! It is astounding how reluctant climbers are to abandon a $50 cam in favor of a rusty fixed pin that could cost them everything. When setting the ropes down the rappel line, look out for sharp edges and loose blocks. Before the second person raps down, make sure the ropes will pull freely. When you do pull them, watch out for rocks that are easily dislodged by the falling ropes.
On snowslopes, beware of soft, sticky snow that balls up between crampon points, transforming them into roller skates in a matter of seconds. In these conditions, it may be safer to remove crampons and kick steps down. Be especially wary of the effects that any sun or warming may have had on glaciers. Following your own footprints from earlier in the day is no assurance that some newly softened snow bridge isn't waiting to gobble you up.
