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There are times when certain behaviors bring out my critical side. I
suppose that's not a great trait. But occasionally the "critical me"
wields its ugly head. The best thing to do when this happens is to peck
away at my keyboard and vent. This past weekend a disagreement about
the finer aspects of a climbing rule, or courtesy, was brought to the
surface. The disagreement, in the long run, has been a great learning
experience. I have learned, over the past few days, that my own
understanding of where I stand is not as static as I presumed.
Venting:
Safety rule number one: Be safe
Broad topic. Pretty simple. Move onto rule number two
Safety rule number two: The call out - what I am venting about.
To
me this seems simple enough. Climber swings, pulls, drops or kicks
ice, rock, tool or branch. Ice, rock, tool or branch falls. Climber
yells, "ice!", "rock!", "tool" or "branch!" People below climber duck,
jump, dance or cartwheel away from falling object. People are safe.
This makes everyone happy.
Not everyone agrees on the fine print
under rule number two and it seems to boil down to a judgment issue. I
tend to fall on the yell more, hurt less side of the argument. To me,
the call out should happen more then less if there are other folks
around or climbing at a crowded crag. If something substantial falls I
yell. I do not always know when another party below me has arrived, if
my belayer has wondered into the line of fire, or if some non climber
from Houston, Texas is busily taking pictures of me knocking down ice
upon them. To me, no matter what the circumstances, the call out is
better over used, then under.
My theory, according to a gentlemen named Jack that I met in Lost in The Forest,
is "ridiculous". According to Jack all any climber should be required
to do is call out once. If someone does not hear the call, "it's their
problem". Now this discussion did not come about because I, or my
partner, were almost hit by ice. Brian saw Jack seconding the climb
from a safe distance and suggested we maneuver around the line of fire
to a spot where we could unpack our gear and flake our ropes. We
settled in a safe spot fifty feet to Jack's right. We did not hear his
initial call out, nor did we hear a call out the entire time we watched
him second the route. We did watch Jack knock down twenty to thirty
pieces or ice ranging in size from small golf-ball-sized flakes, to
kitchen-sink-sized chunks. We did send several call outs from the
safety of our perch down to the trail leading into the climbing area in
case anyone rounding the corner was not aware that Jack was not
interested in their safety. We also noticed that Jack and his partner's
packs were sitting directly in the line of fire and were getting hit by
falling ice.
Once Jack was lowered by his partner (that we never
had a chance to meet) I spoke up. I chose to take the role of a
friendly co-climber that wanted to ask a favor, or maybe provide a
little safety hint. I couldn't help but wonder if Jack were new to
climbing and that his partner had not told him about how important a
call out can be to the safety of other climbers. This approach failed
miserably.
Jack's words that stuck out the most were, "ridiculous"
and "it's their problem". Jack essentially told me to fuck off. I
said nothing. I only turned to take a look at Brian's face to make sure
that what I heard was correct. Judging by Brian's expression, I had
heard correctly. Guess it was time to finish flaking my rope and begin
my climb. I know that there are lots of opinions of how things should,
and should not be done, when it comes to climbing ethics, but his tone
and response was condescending and childish.
Later I fantasized
about charging over to Jack and popping Jack in the nose. This, like
someone getting hit by Jack's unannounced ice chunk , would never
happen. Would it Jack?
A couple days after our climb Brian sent me a link to what Will Gadd had to say about the issue:
Don't
yell "ICE!" unless things are getting really western and someone is
clearly in danger. This isn't sport climbing, ice is going to fall off
all the time, and the shout of "ice" loses its effectiveness rapidly if
everyone is yelling ice for every little bit of falling water.
For the record. Will Gadd is a bad ass. But the part where I am stuck is the "clearly in danger part". Oh well.
Safety rules number three, three and a half and four: positioning, looking where one walks and taking care of your partners.
From
what I gather a women was hit in the chin by a piece of falling ice at
the base of Standard on Saturday. She was just left of the large
boulder at the beginning of the first pitch when she was hit. There
were chunks of blood covered snow (like the picture above) all over the
place. We met one of her partners after the event. He had finished the
climb and walked off the route after the accident. When we saw him he
was coming back to retrieve his pack. He told us, "she froze like a
deer in headlights" when describing the incident. After stepping on our
new rope with his crampons he went on to tell us that he had no idea
where she was, or how she was doing. He then grabbed his stuff and
left.
I guess my hope is that if I get hit in the face with a
large chunk of ice and bleed like a stuck pig or "a deer in headlights"
that my partner(s) will escort me out of the crag and off to a
hospital. Or at the very least show some empathy to my situation.
Bummer.
Ok.
One more lil' chapter in this weeks rant. While climbing on Pegasus in
the Amphitheater we noticed climbers walking back and fourth under Widow's Walk.
Minutes before we noticed HUGE chunks of ice falling to the ground and
careening through the woods in that same spot.. So, here it goes...
When it's really warm, and HUGE chunks of ice are falling off an
overhanging cliff and smashing to the ground, don't walk under it.
No.... Really... It's not a good idea. Trust me on this one. Thanks.
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| Mikey gets angry when people break safety rules. Don't make Mikey angry... |
Besides
my encounter with Jack and observing some risky positioning, this past
weekend was stellar. Sunny skies (at least in North Conway) and warm
temperatures made for some great ice climbing conditions. Yep, things
were wet, but many of the climbs in the Frankenstein and Crawford Notch
areas were PHAT. If you haven't had a chance to get out yet this year,
now is the time.
The positive conditions were not the only portion
of our weekend that we thoroughly enjoyed. We were also fortunate
enough to climb with some awesome folks (thanks Mikey, Pam and E), hang
with a great group from the Boston area, see a couple of our favorite
people on the planet at the Front Grind and meet a couple more locals
that have carved out a pretty cool existence in The Valley.
Over
the past couple of years me and my crew of miscreants from the Portland
area have been fortunate enough to spend lots of time with with two
great folks named Erik and Sasha. They have not only shared their coach
space, but have also shared heaps of knowledge and kindness. This
past weekend we were lucky enough to meet two more locals cut from the
same proverbial cloth. Like Erik and Sasha, Bayard and Ann have made
their mark in the climbing community not only as great climbers, but
more importantly, great people. Even though I have not had a chance to
meet that many climbers and community members of the North Conway area, I
continue to be nothing short of impressed by the generosity and sense
of adventure that these folks all seem to share.
