Back at it....

No matter how much I hate abandoning New England Adventures we are too cheap to keep it going.  Love the edublogs product, but I am not willing to pay almost $100 a year to keep it operational.

We have also been pretty lame in the upkeep of New England Adventures for the past couple of months.  It's not that we haven't been going out and getting after it, we just haven't been motivated to take pictures, contemplate, write, and post about what we have been up to.  I, for one, promise to try harder in the future.  

The folks at New England Adventures have also come to a proverbial fork in the road.  A couple of us want the content to focus on climbing and a couple of us want the content to cover a variety of outdoor topics and events.  Erik falls under the climbing category and I fall under the variety category.   
  

There are still lots of warm and fuzzy feelings between all of us (Brian and Chuck are in on the love fest as well), so we are going to run the two blogs simultaneously and symbiotically.  Shades of Granite and NEA 360 will be open to all of the folks from New England Adventures and beyond - we are hoping to find some fellow outdoor athletes that may want to join in...

Either way, it's time to dive back into the blogging world and expose the world to our adventures, trails and stimulations.

Oh yeah.  Thanks to the American Alpine Club for setting us up with the Live Your Dream Grant and all kinds of support and cuddos.    

Experience: The Best of All Teachers

What we learned...

Packing

We arrived at the Big Sandy parking lot at around 8:00 PM.  The light was growing thin and the mosquitos were growing thick.  Nothing like packing in a cloud of bugs.  A couple of hours earlier we passed a gas station that was free of mosquitos and had plenty of space for us to spread out and pack.  But it never occurred to us that we could pack before we arrived at the trail head.  From now on the pre pack option will always be considered.

Weather

Prepare for the worst and when the worst happens hunker down and wait. This is the best advice I can give concerning weather in the Cirque of the Towers and the Tetons. Weather is difficult to predict in ranges that block the horizon. Always be prepared for rain, hail, lightning and temperatures below 40 degrees. In most of the guide books I read the majority of the rain, hail, lightning and low temperatures happen after 2:30 in the summer time. But there are exceptions to every rule.

Light and fast

The approach into the Cirque is ten miles. The first six miles are easy and the last four can be challenging especially if coming directly from sea level. Since we arrived at the parking lot at the trail head at 8:00 PM we broke the hike into two days. The first six miles we did at night to get to Big Sandy Lake. The next morning we finished off the hike into The Cirque and set up our base camp by noon. If climbers are interested in spending multiple days in the Cirque the load will not be light. Bear canisters, tents, food, fuel and other essentials are necessary items to have back at base camp. We splurged and brought in a one person tent and a two person tent. The two person tent was our bug free hangout area. This made our down time in camp a little more bearable when the bugs were in full force. It was also nice to not have to share a tent for six nights with each other after several days of freeze dried meals...

The approach to Pingora was about an hour. We brought two small packs, two ropes, an alpine rack, climbing shoes, one belay jacket, one wind breaker, two liters of water, and some food. We both wore polypropylene tee shirts, fleece hoodies, our harnesses and helmets and light quick dry pants. We left one pack, a liter of water and our approach shoes at the base of the climb. Since the weather was nearly perfect we never used the belay jacket or the wind breaker. The approach to and from thee climb, the three pitches and our thirty minute summit picnic was completed in under six hours. We packed the same for the next two climbs, but we had to carry extra water and our approach shoes since we would be needing these items for the descent and would not be rapping down to the beginning of the climb.

After two epic weather events (one on Wolf's Head and one on The Upper Exum of the Grand Teton) we took a hard look at what we would bring the next time we went into the high alpine environment. In the future I think we would bring two belay coats and some light weight, water resistant pants and jackets. Although it will add a little weight it will dramatically reduce the amount of suffering involved with waiting out a weather event. The route’s we chose were not technically difficult and we felt that the extra weight would be easily manageable.

The Right, Wrong Decision

When Brian and I applied for our America Alpine Club's Live Your Dream grant our objective was, to develop a more efficient, light and fast style of alpine climbing. After three climbs, two in the Wind River Range and one in the Teton Range, we have had mixed results in the light and fast category, but we have made tremendous progress in the shit hits the fan category.

Our first climb up the South Buttress of Pingora was probably our most efficient. We completed the climb (from tent to tent) in under six hours. The approach, the three pitches, and the descent went quickly. Even though we had only been at altitude for two days we moved fast and climbed well. All in all it was a great warm up climb. To a certain extent it was like any other day of climbing. We had fun, we enjoyed the incredible granite of the Wind River Range, but I am pretty confident that neither Brian or I felt particularly challenged nor did we learn a great deal from the experience. Little did we know that the next two climbs would push our alpine comfort level far beyond what we had previously experienced.

In Brian's July 10th entry he described the less then ideal conditions that we encountered while on Wolf's Head in the Cirque of the Towers. Our tent to tent time on that particular day was fourteen hours. During this time I think it is safe to say that we learned more about mountaineering than either of us had in any other climbing experience in our lives. A soaking wet approach, two hail storms, and a few solid dustings of rain made a relatively non-technical climb a technical one. We developed real team work, we learned to trust our feet on even the slickest rock, and we sharpened our communication skills between partners and between climbing groups. In this particular climb efficient, light and fast were relative terms. But luckily for us our high alpine education that we received on Wolf's Head was just the beginning of what lay ahead.

After seven days we left the Wind River Range and headed to the Teton Range in hopes for better weather. On July 10th, after a little blogging, we threw on our packs and headed up to The Meadows to camp for the night. Our plan was solid - an early push up to the lower saddle, then over to Wall Street and then after some easy pitches of climbing and fifth class scrambling to the summit of the Grand by noon. The Upper Exum Route looked to be a solid day out.

The first seven hours of our day went pretty well. We were making solid time on our hike up to the lower saddle and made quick work of all the fifth class scrambling just before we hit Wall Street. The skies seemed relatively clear and the only challenge that we faced at all was some tricky route finding just before we hit the Friction Pitch. The climbing was easy and the rock quality beautiful.

Just before 10:00 AM Brian began to express some concern about the clouds to our west. By 10:45 Brian and I were both looking back and up at the dark skies behind us with growing apprehension. At 11:00 AM we reached the V Pitch - the final technical pitch of the route. At this point we both knew that it was just a matter of minutes before Mother Nature was going to open a can of whoop ass on us and we had decisions to make. I wanted to push forward through the pitch and then find cover near the summit. Brian wanted to find shelter immediately. Just as we began to debate the issue we received a warning that put an immediate end to any further discussion. The warning was neither subtle nor avoidable.

As the hair on my head and arms began to stand the sound of the gusting wind was replaced by a distinct and sharp static crackling. Our gear, the rope, the wet rock, the air and our bodies were all one. We were all joined together through a common electrical charge.

The debate was over. Brian did not need to say another word. I stripped off my harness and dropped it to the ground and began down climbing with a sense of urgency that I had never experienced before. All I wanted to do was distance myself from my ten pound metal skirt and the sixty meter rope I was attached to as quickly as I could. The thirty feet of wet fifth class rock that separated Brian and I disappeared underneath me as I scrambled down to Brian's side under a large boulder just to the side of the route. We looked at each other and laughed. What else could we do?

After two hours of hail, rain, thunder and lightning we were soaked, frozen and relieved. We (and our gear) had survived a vicious, high alpine electrical storm that rivaled any that either of us had ever experienced. As soon as the storm began to clear we began to move. We had no idea if the storm had just paused or there was more to come.

I hammered up the V Pitch, brought Brian up and we reevaluated our situation. After a brief discussion we moved east to the edge of a large outcropping of rock. I again started to scrabble over easy terrain until I could see the summit of the Grand 100 feet up over more fifth class rock to the east. To the west and south two separate, ominous, swirling black cloud formations lingered. I could also see the first rappel station at Sergeant's Chimney another 100 feet below me. This is where I made the right, wrong decision. I chose the belay station over the summit.

I down climbed, built an anchor, belayed Brian over and we discussed what should happen next. We both agreed that the sky still looked unstable and that the safest option was to retreat. Within minutes Brian was at the anchor and we were on our way down. Once we finished our first of two rappels the weather began to turn for the better. The sun began to peak out through the clouds and the confidence that I had about our decision only moments ago began to diminish like the passing storm. We were safe, we did everything right, but we did not step upon the summit of the Grand Teton.

Wolf's Head

Pablo and I have been relaxing and getting town stuff done since we arrived in Jackson, Wyoming this past Sunday night. We hiked out from the Cirque of the Towers in one push on Sunday morning and were exhausted after a productive trip into the area. We'll write more as time allows, but for now, we'd like to share our experiences from the East Ridge of Wolf's Head, one of the 50 classic climbs in North America.

After getting into the Cirque and climbing the South Buttress of Pingora on July 4th, we took a rest day in preparation for climbing the E. Ridge on Wolf's Head the following day. We awoke to auspicious-looking skies but decided to at least get to the bottom of the approach and see how things looked from there. Hiking out of camp for an hour put us under the base of the "grassy ledges" approach, which looked wet but doable. Most parties just scramble up here to the saddle between the Tiger Tooth and Wolf's Head, but because things looked wet and greasy, Paul and I opted to rope up. Turned out to be a good call. We sketched our way up wet rock, through water pouring over our heads, and finally crested into the sun and within view of the start of the route. We were psyched to be in the sun and on dry rock! Unfortunately, that would be short-lived.

I led up the first pitch, which included the "Sidewalk," a 24-inch wide fin of rock with 600+ feet of air on either side. Paul took the next pitch with sunny skies above, but as I started to follow, the clouds were building and the nearby summits were beginning to be shrouded in heavy clouds. Knowing we had to keep moving, Paul and I swapped leads along the ridge, figuring out which way to go around every tower that was thrown at us.

Before long, the valleys below were obscured by fog and mist, and we started hearing the first few pieces of hail landing on our helmets. Bailing and rapping weren't much of an option, so we continued on through the varying types of precipitation. We found refuge at belay stations below big roofs and in caves on the route while waiting for the party in front of us that was doing the lions share of the route finding. They, like us, found little comfort in the deteriorating weather.

Just before I reached the top of the crux pitch the skies opened. Heavy, wet slush poured down and soaked the rock and all of those on it. As I straddled on a small rock perch Paul followed with our pack. The rock was soaked and the climbing was awkward. We attempted to lower a loop to haul the pack through the top of the pitch to no avail. Finally, Paul grunted his way through the tight overhang, straddled the perch behind me, stripped me of my gear, and cruised through the next pitch.

My next lead was a tricky one, especially in the rain. It was a very exposed hand traverse on some very greasy rock. Some small chicken heads lead my feet down to a tiny belay. Once Paul arrived he built an anchor above me, racked up, and pulled his way up through a short pitch, and disappeared. A few minutes later I found myself squeezing my way through a tunnel. I emerged out onto a large, sunny ledge. I felt as though I had been shoved through a birth canal and landed in a tanning booth. The sun was bright on the northwest side of Wolf's Head and we were now a couple easy pitches away from the summit.

After some high fives, pictures, water, and food the four of us began our journey down. Five repels and a few hours of scrambling led us back to our campsite. We were "home" and feeling pretty good about how we handled a very difficult fourteen-hour day.  
- B.T

Give em enough rope...

Erik's last post is a timely one.  Brian and I have been mulling over the double vs single rope situation for our up coming trip to the Cirque of the Towers in the Wind River Range.  Seventy meter Nano?  Two photons?  One sixty meter workhorse?  Two fifties?  Region, rock type, weather condition, style and route are all variables that need to be considered.

According to Mountaineering: The Freedom of the Hills the advantages of twins and doubles are: rope friction can be greatly reduced, falls can be shorter, two ropes are less likely to get severed in rockfall or sharp edges, and two ropes are available for rappel.  The book also points out advantages when protecting the second from pendulum falls and when doing traverses.  Another important aspect is that when clipping gear slack can be given to one rope while the other can remain taught.

I started surfing the web looking for answers, but could not find "the answer". 

The reason that there is no definitive answer that works for all climbers is that all climbers are different.  I asked Erik for his advise and he pointed out that the climber is another variable that needs to be considered.  A technical route that might be challenging for me, might be considered extremely easy for someone else.  Some climbers can cruise through the remainder of a route and top out before the thunder storm hits, while other climbers might chose to bail off the climb and rappel down to safety.

After all sorts of searching and pondering I feel like I have made up my mind about what I would like to bring to The Winds with us, but I am still open to suggestions and comments from folks who have climbed in The Winds or similar places.  Feel free to post a comment and let me know what you think.  The more information I have to consider the happier I will be...