One would think someone returning from a two month trip to the Himalayas would be confident in all things frozen and vertical. But the truth is since I severed the pollicis longus in my thumb last March, I haven’t climbed much more than a door frame. Although I was mentally prepared for the cold and suffering, I would need to get back into physical shape and once again trust myself on the ice.
It had been cold for long enough so I went out to the hidden gems near my home to get some December climbing in. Climbing a low angle slab I triggered a mini-avalanche at the top which left me a bit shaken. The points of my crampons skated wildly on the freshly swept rock as I made my traverse to the finish. Next I set a toprope on the climb I dubbed Raquel. I couldn’t make it halfway up the short pillar before deciding I needed to bail. Every excuse was used, too cold for friction on an icy rope, too late in the day, hands frozen, etc. I walked home feeling a sense of disappointment but also an optimistic feeling that I would need to take every opportunity to climb in the next month to get back to where I was the year prior.
Within a few days I was out and making a rats nest out of the rope while climbing the Silver Cascade in Crawford Notch. Fumbling around with cordelettes and slings and lazily putting in screws for awkward belays. It was like I just started climbing. In so many words, I needed to get my shit together in a bad way. With only two weeks left until my spring semester at UNH would resume I decided to quit my retail job and spend more time outdoors than in.
January 7th Kevin and I headed north into what the weathermen were calling the polar vortex. Yes it was cold, perfectly cold. We spent the afternoon taking laps on the steep ice in the Flume Gorge before retiring to our freezing dark cabin for the night. The following day was to be an exploratory mission. We wanted to see what was out there and decide where to focus our attention. Exploring ice from Franconia to Pinkham and back through Crawford Notch we decided on Mt Willard to be our playground for the rest of the week.
A horrible accident occurs! One of Kevin’s tools is nowhere to be found. Apparently it was left behind in the Frankenstein parking lot. Climbing multi-pitch routes would now be out of the question. With plans for Willard brushed aside we slide back into toprope mode, haunting and honing our skills at Cathedral’s North End. I’m still getting in great short leads and working on technique, but I can tell Kevin is feeling the cold and the shame of sharing my tools. We haul another load of firewood to our cabin for another frozen night before another go in the Flume on Friday.
Southbound. I head home for the weekend to recoup and take care of some business, but by Tuesday the 14th I’m back in the cabin. We never would have guessed it but the “polar vortex” was to be immediately followed by a heat wave. Climbs that stood gloriously fat in the Frankenstein Amphitheater days before were now just wet steamy rocks. If I wanted to climb big long ice lines I needed to go to a place where winter keeps a more solid grip: Mount Washington.
The 15th was a perfect day for soloing Yale gully in Huntington Ravine. Sunshine and soft sticks made for a fun and long romp up to the top of the ravine. The weather was so fare I even stopped midway up and cooked lunch while drying my gloves on a sunny rock.
I was ready for more, and feeling strong and confident after my solo on Yale. The focus would now shift from my own goals to helping others succeed in theirs. The UNH Winter Expedition Programming course, run by Jay Miller, was in need of a teaching assistant for the next three days and I was honored to help out.
Thursday I met the class at the Trestle Slabs on Frankenstein which was in great shape despite the warm-up. Coaching others in climbing technique can be a great way to focus on your own methods and a great excuse to take laps on “easy” ice.
Friday required an alpine start. From climbing alone to leading a group of 8, I was headed back to Mt Wash. The Lion’s Head route was our yellow brick road through the merry old land of oz. We had a fantastic summit day with winds blowing not much harder than 35mph and partly sunny skies. The crew was strong, an inspiration. For my money I don’t think it gets any better than seeing the smiling windblown faces of people taking their first Mount Washington winter summit photo.
Saturday. Despite being exhausted from a late dinner at Moat Mountain, the crew dragged me out of my sleeping bag for another round of toproping. This time we spent the day at the North End Pillars climbing until failure. With the crew sufficiently tired, the van organized, and the cabin clean, we said our goodbyes. Through their 10 days in the winter backcountry of New Hampshire they achieved a new level of personal strength and formed social bonds which will last forever. Me, I think I got my balls back.
climb with crowley 