Jason Nelson Climbing Ice
I looked down at my harness to count how many ice screws I had left. There was only three remaining. Above me a wall of vertical ice continued endlessly with the only change in relief being a shallow indentation about 40 ft. above me. It wasn’t even close to being a ledge. I took a deep breath and kept climbing. Each swing was arduous despite the ice being soft. Being on the sharp end, with one hundred and eighty feet of rope below, can do that to you. I was absolutely soaked from the first half of the pitch, most of which was directly beneath a giant hanging dagger of ice that continuously sprayed water from its tendrils. I tried to convince myself that it was highly unlikely to fracture, however it was plainly obvious that it had broken off recently and then reformed. If that dagger chose to succumb to gravity while Ryan and I were climbing under it, it could wipe us off the wall like a pubescent teenager might flick his buggers into the warm air of a sunny afternoon.
Sunset at Bart Lake, AK
Behind me the sun was low on the horizon, making its way behind the mountains on Admiralty Island. The sky was taking on a a pleasant orange hue and alpenglow lit up the ice which reflected the warm tones above. We were high enough now that the mouth of the Taku River could be seen emptying out into the larger channel of South East Alaska’s Inside Passage. One lonely boat was adrift out there in the distance. It was a dramatic and beautiful sight and as much as I wanted to gaze over and enjoy it, I was wrapped up with my own demons. High above my last ice screw, trying to muster up both calmness and courage to reach the slight indentation in the ice where I would set the belay, I was struggling to keep it together. One mistake and I would be in for the ride of a lifetime. Your mind does the math for you, like the voice of a nagging older brother reminding you of the trouble you’ve gotten yourself in to.. Twenty feet above the last ice screw would result in the minimum of a forty-foot fall. That’s just the first half of the equation. The second half would be to add all of the slack and rope stretch with over two hundred feet of rope out. OK, so we’re looking easily at a sixty-foot fall. Gulp! Swallow hard. Now breathe. You’re there now. It’s nothing even close to being a ledge, but once that ice screw is in, you’re safe. Focus. Hold on just a little longer. Alas, it’s complete.
“Off Belay Ryan!” I shout into the void.
High on a new route at Bart Lake
I’m trying hard to be psyched about completing the pitch, 70meters of vertical ice, and I am. It was a fantastic lead on my part and one I will remember for a long time. This beautiful orange light that’s surrounds me is rapidly disappearing. I can see it changing to a cold dark blue below. I’m soaked through, hanging from two ice screws somewhere near the top of a one thousand foot wall of vertical ice. Somewhere, not quite near enough to the top. I see trees above and I can only hope we get up this before the oncoming coldness and dark freeze me solid. I know that once that sun drops so does the temperature and question our choice for a casual start. Being cold in the light of the day is not as nearly as bad as being cold in the dark of night.
Costal Helicopter, Juneau
A couple days ago Ryan and I left Juneau in one of Coastal Helicopter’s yellow A-Star birds. We lifted gracefully above the airport and then over snow covered mountainsides. It was like being cast into a fantasy world of white. The adventure was just beginning. The Taku River opened up below us and on the other side we descended into a hole in the mountain. A hole deep enough that GPS units don’t even work. Ryan wasn’t a hundred percent sure that we would encounter ice at Bart Lake so he had some backup plans in mind as well. But as soon as we crested the ridge, several lines of ice trickling down black cliff sides came into view, one, and then another, and then more. All three aspects of the cliffs surrounding the lake all had magnificent ice flows cascading down off of them. Our faces lit up with joy.
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Above Juneau
The helicopter touched down and we exited the craft. We would have done back flips had not the rotors still been turning, and of course had we been capable of doing them on a frozen lake. We quickly unloaded our cashe, watching flurry of spindrift blow over us as the helicopter lifted, leaving us alone on the lake with a pile of gear. There we were, two kids left alone in an icy cold candy store.
We quickly threw together our camp then ran across the lake to the first climb. It was already afternoon and so we set our sites on a lower angle flow that touched down right into the lake. This was the first time Ryan and I had roped in together. In fact, Ryan and I had really only spent a few hours together in total but pitch two found us comfortably simul-climbing. Simul-climbing is a technique of trust, expertise and experience. If either person falls, the result is going to be bad. The concept is that it is supposed to keep you from dying if you fall, but you’re likely to get injured and we were nowhere near help. In fact, we weren’t even near being able to call for help. Even with limited communication, it went without a hitch. A good climbing partnership can operate without communication.
Rule #1 of a successful climbing trip: Choose a partner you can climb well with. If you haven’t climbed with them before, just hope for the best.
Ryan Johnson on the First Ascent of Large Marge
We were at the top of the ice in a matter of hours. It appeared this climbing arrangement just might work out. Although not very difficult, it was a beautiful and elegant climb, one that would be a classic anywhere. The name Large Marge seemed to stick and so we dubbed it that.
Hiking back to camp across the lake we contemplated which line to do next and how to plan our stay. It was a tough choice as we had limited days and each prominent piece of ice tempted us in a different way.
In the tent, Ryan ripped out one of the pages of a Sports Illustrated Swimsuit issue and taped it to the side of the tent. “For each first ascent, we get to hang up another girl.”
“That works for me.” I couldn’t help but envision an entire wall covered in swimsuit models and I liked that thought.
Ryan Johnson in the Tent
The winter sun plummeted into the notch on the other side of the lake and it quickly grew cold. At that we laid to rest, watched over by a busty blue-eyed blonde on some warm distant beach hanging on the yellow wall of the tent.
Rule #2 of a successful climbing trip: You can never have too much inspiration
To be continued…
On my last day in Juneau, Ed Shanley drove me out to Mendenhall Lake to show me some ice caves. Two years prior we had hiked around the toe of Mendenhall Glacier and into some ice caves, but I had neglected to bring my ice climbing gear that day.
After taking lots of pictures, I felt satisfied to start climbing. I wasn’t sure what the ice would be like to climb. I knew it would be far more brittle and hard than waterfall ice, but little else. I tempted the idea of trying an easier route up one of the icebergs to get the feel of it, but instead gravitated towards a beautiful sweeping wall of blue ice. You just can resist blue so deep, like in someones eyes.
The first few moves went well enough, but things got tough quick. I was back on the ground resting after about ten minutes and about twenty feet of progress. I tried again, thinking maybe having the first two ice screws in place would be enough to boost me through the rest of the climb. It was enough to boost me about twelve feet further and I had to rest on the rope again. Placing the ice screws was extremely difficult as the ice was farther away from my hips, where you would normally place a screw, given the overhanging nature. I twist my hips to lever the screw into the ice and instead all of my weight was on my arms. It became a desperate struggle just to finish the climb. I was so pumped that each try after resting I just had less and less to give. Just holding onto my ice tools felt impossible near the top.
My next go at the climb found me successful, but not by much of margin. I was psyched! This was the most sustained, difficult and steep ice I have climbed. Most ice climbs I have encountered top out on a scale at WI6, and I’ve only read about climbs of higher difficulty. I don’t know what this route would be graded, but it made the WI6 routes I’ve done seem easy in comparison. I wanted more, but we barely made it to the airport for me to catch my flight. I waited in the check-in lane, still wet from climbing, completely exhausted, and smiling ear to ear. I can’t wait to go back!
