A Private Moment in a Public Place

Saturday, April 10th, 2010: For a while now, I have had an obsession with the West Point Crack; a 3 pitch climb located on the west side of South Gateway Rock in the Garden of the Gods. It’s not the prettiest climb to look at, and it doesn’t have the most aesthetic moves or anything like that. Compared to its neighbors, and to all the routes in the Garden of the Gods, it’s simply just another climb. I think what makes it more special to me is its rather modest grade; 5.8 to 5.10 depending on who you ask when taking into account all three of its pitches, combined also with its rarity in being a complete climb, ascending to the top of the formation upon which it is to be found. Not that a lot of routes don’t go to the top of the particular crag upon they can be found. Most climbs at Garden of the Gods, if they are multi-pitch routes that go to the top of a formation, tend to become run-out horror shows, lacking climbable features or protection, and often reach into the realm of being a much harder grade to climb. So, that is my qualification for why I like the route. What is my obsession with it?
Since I like to climb solo; climbing without the use of ropes, a belay, or any other type of protection, and because I often climb there due to its proximity to my home, it didn’t take long for a desire to build within me to add this to my circuit of Garden climbs. Only, the rock and the climbing are just not quite as sure or dependable as some of the other routes that I regularly visit there. For example, on many occasions I have started with the Cowboy Boot Crack, and advanced in no particular order through Potholes, the South Ridge of the White Spire, the north ridge of Montezuma’s Tower, New Era, and of course the 1st pitch of the West Point Crack. Since I carry a 7mm rope with me in order to rappel off several of these routes, adding in the 1st pitch of the West Point Crack didn’t seem to be too contrived. Well, I can’t say that I had whatever inside of me it was going to take in order to push it out to the top of the route either. OK, I do have a name for that; faith.
I bet I have climbed the West Point Crack with a rope and a belay 100 times; probably not, but it feels like that anyway. I have done it with a partner, by myself using a soloist, sewing it up with every piece of gear I can get to go in it, and with clipping only the fixed gear that is available on it. Whenever I get close to being ready to solo it; in my mind, as I lay in bed at night, I begin thinking of two sections; one on the 2nd pitch where a high foot smear provides the security necessary to reach up enough into the crack to gain a good hand jam, and the beginning of the 3rd pitch where a long step across to a greasy foot smear is required in order to bridge a fearful gap and reach left around an arête to a nice side-pull. Both give me the willies thinking of the consequences of a foot slipping on the soft sandstone of the Garden of the Gods.
Arriving midway through a pleasant Saturday afternoon, I encountered the typical zoo that is the Garden on a pretty spring weekend. A large portion of the Colorado Springs populace seems to be present and bent releasing whatever pent up desires or frustrations that Mother Nature has done her best to inhibit with the typical spring weather pattern we endure here on the Front Range of Colorado. Well, probably everywhere else too for that matter; beautiful on weekdays when you are at work and horrible over the weekend as another cold front storms its way eastward reminding us that winter hasn’t lost its grip just yet.
I caught up with some friends at the base of the Twin Spires just as they were topping out on the South Ridge of the White Spire. Quickly I soloed up in order to join them while they were rigging a rappel. Once back on the ground, I ran over to the other side of the Red Spire and ran a quick lap on Potholes. Meanwhile, my friends had rigged a top rope on the North Ridge of the White Spire, and I tied in for a lap. Climbing it, I found I was sketchy and hesitant, definitely not feeling the mojo I would need to think about soloing this one.
After packing up, we headed over to Montezuma’s Tower to get on the North Ridge. Arriving at its base though, we encountered the typical Garden of the Gods freak-show; 2 climbers completely lost at the top of the 1st pitch, bellowing at each other as they were in the process of lowering one climber back to the ground and then the 2nd climber rappelling from only a single eye bolt! Fortunately they made it safely to the ground without bringing any carnage upon themselves. Since there was already party waiting to start the climb, my friends decided to go find another route; perhaps either the West Point Crack or the Cowboy Boot Crack. However, the folks who were next in line for the route were very gracious and gave me permission to jump in front of them so I could run a quick lap up the route.
The whole time I had been keeping an eye on the West Point Crack. Most of the afternoon another party of 3 had been engaged in climbing its first two pitches. Now they were in the process of rappelling back down. I figured my opportunity had arrived.
Silently I spent a few moments at the bottom of the climb reflecting on what I was about to do. It would be dishonest of me to say that I was doing anything other than praying to God; thanking Him for the opportunity being placed before me, and affirming my belief that faith in God would be all that was necessary to see me safely to wherever He thought was best for me to be; either safely at the top or not… It’s really just that simple.
Just as silently I began climbing the 1st pitch, not saying a word to the folks who were finishing up with their rappel and sorting through various bits of gear scattered around the base of the climb. I have soloed the 1st pitch many times, and it went by smoothly, just as it should due to having memorized and often repeated the various bits and pieces of climbing that comprise it. At the beginning of the second pitch, I briefly contemplated the one way street I was entering; once I began the next series of moves there would be no reversing them, and as I did not have a rope or anything other than a chalk bag with me, it would be hard to change my mind and do anything much about it. Quickly and confidently I began the opening moves of the 2nd pitch, high-stepping, smearing, reaching, and jamming securely through the cruxes of the first 30 feet or so until I was safely established in the chimney that comprises the bulk of the 2nd pitch.
Looking behind me, I could see where a large crowd of tourists had gathered to gawk at the spectacle I was creating. That is when it struck me on how private a moment this was for me in such a very public place. Everyone below could plainly see what I was up to, fewer could really understand what I was doing, and perhaps to only my close friend Doug, who was presently on Cowboy Boot Crack and out of site, would it have made any sense. Doug had been very kind, patiently belaying me many times on the climb so that I could get the faith and courage necessary to go ahead and solo it since I had been thinking of so much anyway.
Turning away from the crowd, I directed my thoughts back inward and my hands and feet at the rock before me. The rest of the 2nd pitch went quickly by, and I found myself atop the spire that separates the top of the 2nd pitch from the rest of South gateway Rock, gazing across the chasm between me and the end of the route; only a few feet to go, easy with faith, and easier still to let doubt and fear gnaw away at the confidence necessary to surmount it. Faith and God would win this day!
With confidence I stepped my right foot across the gap, smearing it against the same greasy spot I had so often placed it before. Hucking my left hand upwards and reaching around the side of the arête, I grabbed a secure edge and simultaneously brought my left foot up and around to a precise toehold and slapped my right hand into a scooped-out hole in the rock so I could bear-hug the arête. Continuing in a smooth motion, I reached higher with my right hand to a nice jug; the same one of many nightmares about it breaking off and crumbling with my touch. In an instant I was securely established on the arête. Only a side-pull and a high step with my left foot separated me from being able to mantle up onto my right foot and solidly jam my left hand in a crack enabling me to stand upright, safely across the chasm and only a move from the top. The last move safely passed, and I breathed a sigh of relief, sitting for a moment to thank God for protecting me from all harm and danger, and seeing me to the top.
Walking back down the descent, onto the sidewalk that winds its way along the base of South Gateway Rock and through throngs of people to retrieve my gear from the beginning of the climb, I easily melded back into the anonymity of the crowd, the hustle and bustle of tourists and climbers alike, neither encountering or expecting any comment or congratulations. Emotionally I could have been walking 100 feet in the air above the sidewalk, but that was only a feeling of gratitude and peace inside me. The whole of the climb and descent had taken perhaps 10 minutes. In fact, the same folks I had encountered at the base of the route were still in the process of packing their gear. Without a word, except goodbye and good day, I packed my stuff and began the hike over to Cowboy Boot Crack to link back up with my friends.
Doug exchanged a look with me, and asked if I had taken care of business. I said I had, and he congratulated me, but I added that it was faith in God, or better yet, God’s shepherding of us, that should be lauded and boasted upon. He understood, because he has been such a source of spiritual growth for me, mostly by the example he sets. They were just getting ready to pull their rope from the anchors of Cowboy Boot Crack, and he asked me if I wanted to get a lap in. I responded with a no, feeling satisfied with what I had put behind me, and already looking forward to what was required next; getting in a few miles of running in order to keep the weekly mileage total up where it should be. Hmmmm… from the house to the top of Ridge Road and back sounds nice…

Bridalveil and Ames Ice Hose in a Day

March 6, 2010
Leaving my vehicle with the sun rising at 6:00 AM on Saturday morning, I set out on a quest to fulfill a long time goal; free soloing both Bridalveil Falls and the Ames Ice Hose, back to back, on the same day. These are two of the most classic and longest ice climbs that Colorado has to offer. They are both located in the Telluride, CO area.
First a little background may be in order. What is free soloing; it is climbing something such as rock or ice without the use of a rope, a belay, or any type of intermediate protection that would prevent the climber from falling off in case of a slip, letting go, etc. In other words, the climber is totally dependent on his or her own skills at keeping them on and getting successfully to the top.
Why do I do it? That is not as easy to place into words as defining what free soloing is as it relates to climbing. Suffice it to say that it is just a way that I enjoy getting out in the mountains, and that I have done it a lot. I keep a list of all the climbs I solo, and I am up to just over 800.
Previously I had soloed each of the climbs on separate occasions. I had read of where a few other folks had soloed the two routes back to back on the same day. I also knew it was getting increasingly popular to combine the two routes into a back to back effort with a pair of climbers that were roped together.
So, with having spent a lot of time recently on building up my endurance through running, swimming, cycling, etc; I figured that now was as good a time as any to give it a try. Leaving my vehicle I had a high level of confidence in my ability to pull it off as long as I could keep it together mentally and just stick with it.
The hike up to Bridalveil Falls is pretty easy as most of it consists of a groomed trail that sees a lot of snow cat travel. I made the approach in short order, and found myself staring up at the climb, but it was not in as good of shape as I had hoped it would be. In fact it looked pretty sick; most of the climb looking like disjointed roofs where features had broken off, leaving a complicated path that would have to be pieced together a single tool placement at a time. From the ground I couldn’t tell for sure that it would even go.
When I solo an ice climb, I usually carry a few things with me that leaves me an option to get back home if I find myself too far adrift in never-never land. In other words, I try to carry a few things that will help me get back down off the climb in case something goes wrong; these include 2 screws, 2 quick draws, some webbing that I can use for a V-thread, and either one or two 60-meter ropes, depending on the length of the climb and what type of rappelling options there are.
I sorted my gear and racked-up beneath a large boulder at the base of the climb. Slowly and with tentative movements I started the climb, but my comfort level just wasn’t there. I seemed to be scared to death of every move and couldn’t get into the comfortable flow of climbing I am so used to experiencing when I am soloing ice. 30 meters up the climb I came to a complete halt at the first overhang, not being able to convince myself to proceed any further. Since I was right beside where someone else had placed a V-thread, I went ahead and bailed off the climb, rappelling down to level and saner ground.
Back on the ground, I took off my gear and began to pace back and forth beneath the climb, seeking within myself some guidance about whether to just give up and go home… a still, small voice spoke up inside, like the way the voice of God so often shows up, saying to me; “Just have some faith.” I found myself putting my gear back on and heading back up the route.
At the overhang where I had previously been turned back, I slowly edged higher, taking the climb just one tool placement at a time. With each placement that I hoisted myself upon in order to place my other tool just a little higher, I deliberately repeated that same mantra to myself that I had first heard on the ground; “Just have some faith.” Slowly I started to make some progress, gaining height upon the climb.
At one point, perhaps it was the crux of the climb; I had to totally commit to some insecure hooking where the ice seemed like it was also slightly overhanging. Doubt surged through me, making me wonder how I would reverse the move if I couldn’t find a decent tool placement above. The still, small voice continued to speak; “Just have some faith.” So, I committed to the move and soon found myself above most of the major difficulties where the top of the climb was within sight.
One of the neat things about climbing Bridalveil Falls is when you get higher on the climb; many times there is a section of ice that is transparent, allowing the climber to peer through the ice at the dark, rushing water beneath, almost as if peering into the very soul of the climb itself, if it were to have one. Another way of trying to put the experience in words would be comparing it to a silent movie that was playing itself out beneath the ice. You can stare through the window of ice and sense the power of the water rushing down the inside of the climb, separated from you by only a few inches of transparent ice, but there is not a sound to be heard. It is always a special moment when you reach this point on the climb, as this phenomenon always seems to appear in about the same spot.
Not far above the window into the climb, I reached the end of the technical difficulties, with only a short section of lower angled ice separating me from the top of the cliff. I dispatched it uneventfully and paused to stare at the fixed anchors at the top, thanking God for being with me, protecting me from all harm and danger. The last time I had done the climb, I ended up walking off to the left, circumnavigating the power station that is situated at the top of the cliff. Since then, fixed rappel anchors have been added to the climb, making it a lot easier to get back down. However, I made sure to take a few moments to let the surroundings soak in, not knowing when I would be back here again.
Rappelling down to the base of the climb, packing my few things, and hiking back to my vehicle went by in the glow of the euphoric high of what I had just accomplished; 400’ of WI 5/6 ice. My time wasn’t anything particularly to be proud of; 4 hours and 50 minutes car to car, but I had kept it together despite having mucked around for a bit in a state of total fear and doubt. Having some faith had seen me through. The first half of the day’s journey was done.

Driving in my vehicle from Telluride over to Ames, CO, I snacked on a tasty buffet of items I had picked up at the City Market across from the Quality Inn where I stay in Montrose, CO when I am ice climbing in the Ouray/Telluride area. I had some olives, a ham sandwich, and a little bit of chocolate too, all washed down with a large bottle of Gatorade. I would need the fuel for the next half of the day.
It was only 11:40 AM when I parked my car by the power plant in Ames. I was totally surprised to see that I was the only car there. The day was one of those awesome blue-bird winter days in Colorado, where the sun was shining and there was not a breath of wind. I said a quick prayer of thanksgiving that I was the only one there on what has to be one of the most popular ice climbs in all of Colorado. Whether or not there was a crowd in front of me was going to be one of the make or break points of completing my day’s agenda. The Ames Ice Hose is a beautiful 520’ ribbon of ice snaking its way down a chimney system. If another party was above me, it would have been unsafe for me to climb below where anything they knocked off could come crashing down on top of me.
The approach to the Ames Ice Hose is a little more complicated than for Bridalveil Falls. You begin by snaking through the woods above the power station until you can climb up the hillside to access an old narrow gauge railroad bed that is traversed across the side of the mountain until the gully that leads to the base of the climb is reached. The climb up the gully can either be good if a donkey path has been stomped in or it can be a little slice of hell and quite dangerous too if the snow is deep, untracked, and ready to slide off in an avalanche. Luckily, the path up the gully was quite good. I had also made sure to check the avalanche conditions on the Internet for the northern San Juan Mountains and was confident that I had a safe snow pack for the upper part of the gully. It was here that all my endurance training really paid off as I raced up to the base of the climb in only 45 minutes from the time when I left my vehicle.
Many times the 1st pitch of the Ames Ice Hose can present the climber with a go/no go type of entrance exam for just getting on the climb. A normal year consists of about 100’ of dead vertical ice, only a few inches thick, thinly plastered to the rock beneath it. In some years there is not enough ice at all on the 1st pitch, causing climbers to scrape up rocky corner systems that lie to either side of where the ice should be. On this day, I found there was just enough ice. Not enough to where I ever felt comfortable, but just enough that I could link a series of tool placement together, reverting back to the mantra that had seen me so well up to this point in the day; “Just have some faith.”
The 2nd pitch, through the chimney/corner system, was much thinner than the previous time I had soloed the route. I found myself hooking on faith alone through some of the thinnest sections that felt like they were slightly overhanging; de ja vue all over again… from the morning. A few times I had to stem with my crampons upon slight, rocky edges I found on rock walls to either side. If I thought the difficulties were over, it got steeper again, making the pitch seem all of its 200’.
Once I got out of the chimney system, I scrambled to the top of a short snow slope and contemplated the giant sheet of dead vertical ice separating me from the top; only 200’ between me and my goal. I took my time climbing it, making sure each tool placement was solid before moving up on it to get the next tool in a little higher. A little bit of exhaustion was starting to set in for all of the swinging I had done over the course of the day. In a dreamlike sequence of tool placements the ice moved before my eyes and beneath my feet to the point where the vertical plain I had been clinging to suddenly reared over to become horizontal again. With a yell, I released the tension pent up inside me and rejoiced to God for such a wonderful day.
Carefully I made my way over the snow slope in a downward traverse to reach the tree that marked the beginning of the rappel route down off the climb. It wasn’t long for me to get the 4 rappels completed back to the base of the route, pack up, and begin the hike back to the vehicle. My total time for completing the Ames Ice Hose was only 3 hours and 24 minutes car to car; giving me a total time of 8 hours and 54 minutes car to car for the combination of both routes.
Jeff Marshall is a hero of mine from the Canadian climbing scene of the 1980’s and 90’s. If you are an ice climber and interested in the history of the sport you should know who he is or take the trouble to find out. Vividly I can remember an account of his in a magazine called Polar Circus from a day when he had linked together the magazine’s namesake along with the ultra classic Weeping Pillar. At the end of the article, while driving away from the trailhead in his truck, he asked himself, “So, was it a good day?” I knew that I could also answer for myself, “Yes it was!”