Eiger Day 3: Mitteleggi Hut to Summit and down

Homie at the Mitteleggi Hut on the Mitteleggi Ridge, still 2000 feet from the summit.

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The next morning we were the last group to get up, but weren't sleeping too heavily while the other groups got going. Eventually we took our turn at the breakfast table. Everyone was putting on crampons at the hut and we could clearly see that we'd be traversing a snow-covered knife-edge, so we did the same. This probably wasn't strictly necessary  but did give us a bit more security. We'd peel these off in about 15 minutes, though, when the climbing got very steep and purely on rock.

The first group we caught was Guillame and Rob. Guillame was a quick guide, but Rob was an older Aussie and they don't have many mountains down under. I gradually discovered that teams will let you pass, but do no offer to let you pass. We bumped up against this team for quite awhile. I was right on Rob and was sure they'd offer to let us by, but it was probably an hour before I asked to go by and Guillame said, "Of course."

We were on the fixed ropes now, but these aren't normal climbing ropes. These are giant, fat ropes that are two inches in diameter and provide very easy climbing. As an American free climber my natural tendency is to not use the ropes, if I can climb without them and this is the way I started. I also did this so that I wouldn't be pulling on the ropes at the same time as the climber above me. But I'm also an alpinist and I recognize the need for speed and using these ropes is way faster than not using them. Once we passed a team we felt an obligation, of course, not to then hold them up. Also, when the route moved onto the north side of the ride, the rock was ice covered in places and would have been quite difficult climbing without these ropes. So, I used the ropes and batmanned up them with ease, most of the time. On one particularly icy section, I was forced to work quite hard, as my feet were very insecure and not helping much. All the time, I'm simul-climbing with Homie below me and spacing out the protection (mainly clipping into the anchors securing the fat line) in order to avoid re-grouping too often.

We caught and were let by another team of two and then soon bumped into the two older German guys. These guys were slow, but they ran up against Reno's team and everything ground to a halt. Reno and his guides, as I said before, were doing a superhuman job, but these clients just needed so much attention. They needed to be belayed and hauled constantly. On a route where everyone is climbing the same fat rope, there is no way to pass once more than one team is clogged up. The first team to come across Reno's team should have passed. Phillip and Sami did just that and were the first team to top out. The only other team fast enough to efficiently pass Reno's team was Homie and I and we were stuck behind the Germans.

This was a bit frustrating to me, but there was no solution. Like I said, if you want move at your speed, either do another route, or harden up and do what the Rocking Girls did - blast it later in the day. What added a bit of stress was the weather. It rained a bit even before the sun came up, but then it turned to snow and graupel. We were engulfed in clouds with limited visibility and acutely aware that the only way off this mountain was up and over. But the weather wasn't deteriorating and we were climbing fine in the conditions.

As we neared the top, the angle eased a bit. We traversed some snow sections, but resisted crampons for a bit longer, since the teams in front were doing the same. All except the Germans, that is. They climbed the entire route in crampons and I could see first hand how this hampered their movement. One section they made it look desperate as the leader backed off a couple of times and then shakily made the move, clipped the bolt and immediately grabbed the quickdraw. In my crampon-less, sticky-rubber boots, this move felt like 5.2 at worst.

Finally the ridge really laid back and we strapped on the crampons for the final ridge run. We topped out on the Eiger 75 years to the day after the first ascent team up the North Face. Perhaps that is a sign that the North Face is still in my future...

We were on top with Reno's entire team and the two Germans. One of them took our summit photo. We'd have lingered longer, but it was cold, there was absolutely no view, and we had a long way to go down a complicated, unknown ridge that was equal in difficulty to what we had just come up. The Germans started down first and we were right behind them. They proved so frustratingly slow at the rappels that I asked to go by. I didn't want to be too pushy, so most of the time I just hoped teams offer to let us by. We were given passage and soon caught the German guide Thomas and his client Dominic. We stayed on their heels for awhile, helping them with their rappel ropes.

Nearing the Monchloch Hut and the end of the climb

The descent down the south ridge leads to a saddle on the ridge connecting the Eiger to the Monch, but this first saddle is the north saddle. Getting to the south saddle, which we had to do, involved traversing a steep, rocky ridge, interspersed with some snow slope traversing. The crampons we put on before topping out would stay on our feet until we did this entire traverse of the ridge and then down the glacier and up to the Monchloch Hut, where we'd finally be on non-technical ground. We'd pass the German when they took a break and then we caught and passed Evelyn and her client. We left everyone far behind and were alone for most of this traverse. There was one tricky rock section, where the passage wasn't clear, but we figured it out.

Once at Monchloch Hut, we had an easy twenty minutes down to the Jungfrauloch train station - the highest in Europe. We toured all the sites inside this crazy station completely inside the mountain and then rode the train back down to Grund. This cost 90 CHF, or more than $100, but it was the only way down at this point. I'd been on this train before, but Homie wanted to see it anyway, so it was worth it to come down this way.

So, that's one mountain checked off my bucket list... It was a grand adventure with a great friend and a super solid climbing partner. I am indebted to Homie for being there for me...

Eiger: Day 2: Ostegg Hut to the Mitteleggi Hut (the technical crux)

The Mitteleggi Ridge as seen from the summit of the Schreckhorn. We traversed this entire thing!

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The next morning the rocking girls were already gone, having left at 4 a.m. They got to the summit of the Eiger before 11:30 a.m. They do, indeed, rock. One was training to be a mountain guide and they were fit and fast.

Phillip and Sami left just 5 or 10 minutes before Homie and I. We hiked up to my gear stash and I geared up while Homie continued. The climbing here was all unroped, mostly on loose slopes, but with short steep sections. Phillip and Sami roped up and led one pitch, while we found and easier way and passed them. When we took a wrong turn, they went in front.

We weren't racing each other in any way. Neither team was hurrying, just moving along at nearly the same speed. We passed them again at the saddle and then failed to stick strictly to the ridge beyond and they got in front again. The scrambling now became very steep and it was a bit loose, so we roped up and simu-climbed. There was the occasional bolt, mainly at the top of each steep section, generally, which would be every 25 meters on steep parts and none when the climbing was easier. I'm sure there are mainly there for the guides, but just as handy for other climbers. This is all the pro we used on this section. 

The ridge is complex, exposed, and loose. We had to downclimb a number of sections and eventually came to what looked like an impassable section. There was a small cave there and I remembered the guide in Grindelwald telling us about a tunnel through to the other side. Sure enough, this was it. The tunnel was tiny and required you to remove your pack and crawl through on your belly, but it solved an otherwise very difficult section. How fortunate! It was so cool.

On the other side we found our first fixed line. The climbing here wasn't that tough - probably only 5.6 or so, but a fixed line will speed up the guided groups quite a bit.

Just beyond this we rappelled 25 meters to base of the crux of the entire Mitteleggi Ridge - a VI- (5.8/9) section that was reportedly three 25-meter pitches. The first pitch was indeed quite difficult with very tiny footholds that amounted to just smearing. Homie and I both put on rock shoes for this. We were the only ones on the mountain carrying rock shoes. We could have done it in our boots, but we had the shoes in our pack and had to wait on Sami and Phillip anyway.

Leading the second of two crux pitches

The climbing was engaging from the start, with small holds and technical feet. I ascended up a thin, discontinuous crack in a tiny corner for a ways and then had to make a very technical traverse left across vertical rock. I grabbed a couple of pieces here, as I didn't want to fall. This was alpine climbing and I had a non-trivial load on my back. The rating here is VI- or 5.8/9. I felt more like 5.9 to me, hence the gear grabbing. I got to the belay and found both Phillip and Sami still there. Phillip was clearly the leader of this team. He had led the first pitch and would continue in the lead. I belayed a little lower down from a giant fixed corkscrew.

Homie followed nicely, moving efficiently up the pitch and over to the belay. Soon I was heading up the next pitch, which was a steep, obtuse corner. There were occasional bolts to protect the climbing, but I placed some gear as well. Frequently the bolts were too far off to the side and it was more convenient for me to place a cam. Phillip had stopped to belay just 20 meters above and I had no reason to move fast, as there wasn't room up there. Phillip then did another very short pitch to a belay just short of the top of the wall. He let Sami lead through to reach the very crest of the ridge again. I led up past Phillip and hit the belay at the top, doing in one 30-meter pitch what these two had done in three tiny pitches. This seems to be the general strategy for guides - to belay early and often on difficult sections so as to give you client as much help as possible with less stretch in the rope and more guidance. Then they short-rope all the easier sections, moving together, roped, only about twenty feet apart, and not putting in any gear. Homie didn't need my help, so I ran out all the rope (we were climbing on our doubled 7.8mm 60-meter line). On the easy sections, we simul-climbed with 80-100 feet of rope out, but placing gear.

The rest of the the ridge to the hut was much easier, but it was still a very long way. Homie and I moved continuously, catching and passing the Swiss guys when they took a break. There was some snow in the ridge here, but it wasn't icy and not steep enough to require crampons, so we continued without them. Everyone we saw climbing anything in Switzerland was wearing heavy alpine/mountaineering boots. We were in high-top scrambling shoes - the La Sportiva Explorers. I put a pair of K10 Kahtoola crampons on these. These are super light steel crampons, weighing only 21 ounces. They have no frontpoints, but I hoped I wouldn't need to do any of that on this climb and that was the case. This setup turned out to be ideal for this route (and the later route we'd do on the Schreckhorn). This combination was so light and comfortable. It climbed rock better than the big, bulky, heavy boots worn by the Swiss and was sufficient on the snow sections. Homie wore the more serious Grivel G10 crampons (29 ounces) with frontpoints, but they also attached nicely to these boots.

We arrived at the hut at 11:30 a.m. and briefly thought about continuing to the summit. Once again, had we known the route up and down, we'd have probably done it. But the unknown  can be a bit daunting and we decided to stop. The hut guardian, Hansruedi, who only spoke German, but he was expecting us - each sleeping spot in the hut was already assigned. We were the first climbers to arrive for the night, as the Rocking Girls had continued on. Any thoughts of a uncrowded night were steadily erased as the climbers poured in.

Eventually, we'd have 22 people for the night, including the guardian. They were us, Phillip and Sami, Reno's group of seven, Evelyn (supposedly one of the top Swiss female alpinist and mountains) and her client - an older chap. Guillame (I always thought of guillain-barré syndrome every time I heard his name) and Rob (an Aussie), Javier and Bruno- two older German guys, Bruno we thought might be a guide, but a really slow guide. The German guide, Thomas, and his client, Dominic, and a pair of Swiss guys, a big guy and a smaller guy.

That night we had a great dinner of all you could eat spaghetti bolognese, bread, soup, and pineapple with whipped cream for dessert. You have to pay for water here, but you can fill up your bottles with tea in the morning for the day's climbing. This is the tradition at the huts, we'd learn - to climb with your bottles filled with tea. Homie didn't want the tea, but I found the hot tea in my pack's bladder to be quiet reviving.

 After dinner they post the breakfast schedule. While we all eat dinner together and could eat breakfast together, they stagger breakfast to spread out the teams on the knife-edge ridge climb. How this order is decided was beyond me and no one bothered to explain it, but I think they show a marked preference for the guides. Reno's team would go first, probably because they would need the most time to make the summit. Unfortunately, they'd also hold up most of the other teams on route. We were getting the full Euro-experience. But, like complaining about the crowds on the Third Flatiron, it is silly to do that. If you want an uncrowded route, go climb the North Face. There are plenty of uncrowded routes in the Alps, but they aren't the trade routes. The trade routes are packed.

Not all of Reno's team would be ascending. Stella just about had a coronary getting up to the hut. It is a testament to Reno and his two apprentice guides that they got this team up this route, for they would have no chance in hell by themselves. In my mind they had little business being there, but that is not the way in Europe. They thrive on guiding people like this up the classic routes. It cost $700-800/day for a guide here. To get guided up the route we did, including huts fees, cost $2400. So, they aren't likely to turn any prospective clients down if there is any chance of getting them up and down the route. And when trouble arises, they have such great helicopter rescue services in the Alps...

Stella was going to take a helicopter down the next morning. Everyone else was going up. 

Eiger: Day 1: Grindelwald to the Ostegg Hut

The Mitteleggi Ridge follows the left skyline - 10,000+ vertical feet from Grindelwald Grund

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Having just arrived, we decided  that going 8000 vertical feet of unknown ground clear to the Mitteleggi Hut in one day wasn't advisable. This turned out to be a good call. Now that I know all the terrain, I could do it, but I'd leave a lot earlier. Instead we got a casual start. Sleeping in until past 7 and then having a leisurely and filling breakfast at the hostel. We then packed out gear, shouldered our packs and starting walking, up along the route we had reconnoitered the day before. We started hiking from the hostel in Grund, at 943 meters, at 9 a.m. Our destination for the day was the Ostegg Hut at 2300 meters. Getting there is actual a via ferrata route that is quite enjoyable in its own right. We hiked up to Alpiglen at 1615 meters where most parties embark from the train. We then headed left on a good, steep trail until we found the turn-off for the Ostegg Hut.

The weather was ideal and the views had us with continuous ear-to-ear grins. The trail is crazy steep at times and is traversing an even steeper slope. You don't want to fall off this trail. We soon spotted the hut atop of seemingly very technical wall. I was excited to see the route that would get us there.

Soon we hit the foot of the cliff and the start of the cables. I've done a few via ferratas now and still find them very enjoyable. They get you to incredible places, like rock climbing, but without all the gear and skill required of the latter. One of the really nice advantages is that you get to remain next to your climbing partner the whole time, instead of at the end of a 200-foot rope.

When we got to the hut we were a bit surprised to find it locked. No one had mentioned this to us at Grindelwald Sports, where we had made reservations for the Mitteleggi Hut. This hut is unmanned and I had hoped that we could just stay there for free. How naive! This is Switzerland, thank you, that will be 25 SF. We found a phone number in the bathroom with instructions to call it to get the lockbox combination. Luckily and not surprisingly, I had cell service, since I was looking down directly on Grindelwald. I left a message on the answering machine and wondered if we'd be hiking back down later today. A little later a man called back, got our information, and gave us the combination. This hut is on the honor system and you pay into a box at the hut. We were the only ones there and no one else was around. I had visions of a lonely adventure. How naive!

A bit later a solo woman showed up, but she was just doing the via ferrata and heading back down. She was definitely plump but had already done the Eiger via ferrata that day. Impressive. Just as we headed up to scope the route for the next morning a team of two Swiss climbers, Phillip and Sami, showed up. We went up just 20 minutes or so, finding the route marked via some cairns across steep, loose slopes. We had watched a couple of large rockslides sweep one of the gullies we had cross before heading up, so we moved quickly across that one. Further up some stones came whizzing down and Homie decided that was enough for today. I went a bit further to be sure of the route and cached my harness, rack, crampons, and two liters of water so that I didn't have to carry it again the next morning.

By the time I descending, the hut was bustling. Reno (pronounced Ray-no), his two "apprentice guides", Robert (a Swede who has lived the last three years in Switzerland) and Thome (very Aryan, never spoke to me, gave me dirty looks, Sheri would think he was an assassin or something), and their four British clients had arrived. It was Dave's birthday and he, Richard, a bald guy (never got his name), and Stella, a portly woman who had "done a lot of climbing in Wales". Soon a family of six - four boys arrived. They planned to spend the night, but would be heading down the via ferrata in the morning. Everyone else was going up the Eiger. In a country with a birthrate of about 1.5 kids per couple, this family was a huge anomaly, probably equivalent to a six-kid family in the US. Finally, the "rocking girls", Denise and Sigi, showed up. Reno knew them and looked with some disdain on us, or so I felt. I would come to find this attitude to be very common among the Swiss climbers, but I can't generalize to all Swiss, since the two girls that worked the desk at the hostel, Nicole and Claudia, were incredibly helpful, friendly, and talkative.

Earlier we had heard voices from above, but never picked out the climbers. Then, in the late afternoon, we heard them again and picked out the climbers at the top of the skyline, at the saddle we'd head for tomorrow. From reading the hut register, we figured it was the three Polish climbers aborting. The Rocking Girls went out scouting the route as well and they quickly climbed up to and past these descending climbers. The girls went clear to the saddle, solo, unroped, and then descended, passing the Poles once again. These chicks were fit and fast and the next day they'd go clear to the summit of the Eiger and off. The Poles took a very long time to get down to the hut and when they got there, they found the hut already over capacity. They had been descending in the rain and they continued down in it. The rest of us huddled inside the nice, but now cramped hut.

Reno, Homie, and the Ostegg Hut

Our dinner of Ramen noodles and mashed potatoes paled compared to the succulent meals prepared by our hut mates. The conversation flowed amongst them, all in German. They'd laugh at something funny and Homie and I would look at each other and shrug our shoulders. Reno was friendly and spoke English well, but the friendliest one by far was Robert, the ex-pat Swede, who spoke English like an American. We'd see a lot of these people over the next few days.

Europe Trip: Day 2

Checking out the lower slopes of the Eiger - via a road and a very steep, but paved trail

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Strava

The flight to Newark was unremarkable except that it left nearly an hour late. Our connection was tight and I was worried we might not make it, but they made up most of the time enroute. When we landed they were already boarding the plane to Zurich, but we still had time to get some food. Our plane was a Boeing 767 in a 2-3-2 arrangement. Homie and I had our seats together on the right side of the plane. Built into the headrest in front of us was a video system that had 200 movies, music, games, educational programs, etc. It was quite nice. I watched Zero Dark Thirty and about half of the Hobbit. Homie watched a program on Marion Jones, learned some German (he's now our translator), played trivia, and hangman. We both did our best to sleep and put a solid four-hour effort, netting us about 20 minutes of sleep. At least that's what it seemed. I felt like I changed position every 1-2 minutes. 

After some effort, we bought train tickets to Grindelwald out of an automated machine. It was confusing which train to get on, but after finding an office with an agent, they printed out a schedule for us. It would have been helpful if that was printed out with the ticket. The trains in Switzerland are all electric and they are quiet and smooth as silk. You can hardly tell when they start moving, as they accelerate so gradually. We changed trains in Bern and again in Interlaken Ost. We arrived in Grindelwald just before 2 p.m. This is 6 a.m. Colorado time, as we are now 8 hours ahead. 

Before the trip I got a pair of LaSportiva Explorer high tops. These are a soft boot with sticky rubber on the bottom. I scrambled Seal Rock in them and then did the Taylor/Andrews glacier loop to try them out on steep snow with the super light Kahtoola K-10 crampons. They worked well and this was our boot of choice for the Eiger. Homie couldn't find these boots locally, so the day before we left we went over to the LaSportiva office/warehouse and they set him up with a pair of boots, gratis. That's great service. Kahtoola shipped me an updated, more secure pair of crampons that arrived the day before we left as well. Unfortunately, I thought they were prizes for the race and left them behind. The ones I used on Taylor should work well for me. I also talked to my contact at Deuter and got an Alpine Guide Lite 32+ pack for the trip. This pack seemed to have the best mix of lightness, capacity and utility for alpine climbing. I'll be testing it out on the Eiger in a few days. All of these sponsors also donate generously to the Rattlesnake Ramble. If you haven't signed up yet, do so!

Before leaving the airport, I had to sample the Swiss culture via a coffee at a local cafe. I believe the name of the place was Starbucks. Actually, I only went there before I had brought my Starbuck gift cards. Alas, US cards don't work in Switzerland and I had already ordered the coffee, so I did something I said I'd never do: pay for a Starbucks with my own money. And it was 8SF (more than $8!). Oh well, it helped keep me alert in getting to Grindelwald. It takes two calendar days to get to Grindelwald and about 24 hours of continuous travel via bus, plane, and train.

I booked us into the Grindelwald Mountain Hostel for Sunday night, just so we'd know exactly where we were going on our first day here. They have a free shuttle service from the train station to the hostel where we had a private room with a sink in the room. It's rare in Europe to get a bathroom in your room. We were paying $125/night ($62/each) for a tiny room with a sink. Switzerland is not a cheap place to travel, but it is the only country with the Eiger…

When we got here we hiked up to Brandegg, which is just a train station and a restaurant for all I could tell. You can bike here and we hiked on entirely on a very steep (too steep to ride) paved trail. It was about 1600 feet above Grindelwald Grund, where we are staying. Grund is at the very food of the Eiger. Grindelwald is actually a few hundred feet up the other side of the Valley.

After checking into the Grindelwald Mountain Hostel we hiked up to Grindelwald to Grindelwald Sports (three uses of Grindelwald (now four!) in the same sentence!). Here we talked to Johann who gave us all the beta on the Eiger. Conditions were great for the Mitteleggi Ridge and the weather report was promising. There was afternoons storms forecasted, but hoped to be in the huts by then. He talked us out of our plan to descend the West Flank as "too dangerous. No one does that." and into descending the South Ridge - what the guides use. This goes by the Monchloch Hut and requires you to take the train down from the Jungfrauloch station, which is the highest train station in Europe and a very cool location, complete with a carved ice cave. He also said that it takes him 12 hours to go from Grindelwald to the Mitteleggi Hut and he knows the way. The crux of the entire climb is between the Ostegg hut and the Mitteleggi Hut, where the climbing is 5.8. He said that section takes 7-8 hours alone. So, we've decided to do the climb over three days, staying one night at each hut. This is probably wise since we are still going on just two hours of sleep from the plane trip over. We'll see hard tonight, but we are still alert here at nearly 11 p.m. 

Later that night, while I was in the gear room I ran into a thin guy. He looked at my shoes and says, "How do you like the Helios?" "I love 'em," I say and ask him, "Have you run in La Sportiva before?" "Run in them? I run for them!" I told him that I ran for Sportiva as well and he asked if I did the Eiger Ultra Marathon race the day before. He did and finished in about 16.5 hours for the 100 km course with 6700 meters of climbing (22,000 feet!). His first name is Sean but everyone calls him "Run Bum." He knew Ian Achey and Everett, my contacts in Boulder at La Sportiva.

We had a pizza for dinner, and packed for the next day. The gear barely fits in our small alpine packs, but it will be enough to sustain us over three days, thanks to the huts. We'll get one breakfast and one dinner at the Mitteleggi Hut, but nothing at the Ostegg Hut, where we'll likely be alone. We need to carry food for the rest of the three days and are cutting that pretty short. I can't believe I'm headed up the Eiger already, but the weather and conditions are a go and we have to jump on this chance. So, no more updates until at least Wednesday. Cross your fingers for us. Game on!

Europe Trip: Day 1

The Eiger from the train on the way into Grindelwald

Sheri dropped us at the bus stop literally a minute before the bus arrived. I hope our timing stays that good for the entire trip…

This trip is about checking things off the bucket list. Like so many other people I've uttered the phrase "I'd really like to do that sometime…" many times. Now, at 50, I'm holding myself to that. Do I really want to do that? Or would I just like to say I'd done it? Or maybe I don't really want to do it at all. Now I'm making plans and executing them. I've got a long bucket list and it's time to get going on it. I'm still fit and climbing nearly as good as ever, but that won't last forever. I figure I've got a decade left to get my mountain dreams done.

When I first started climbing, I was initially drawn to the outrageous walls of Yosemite, having been inspired by the images in National Geographic. Back then I was a voracious reader of climbing literature. The most storied mountain was the Eiger. Books like the White Spider, Wall of Death, Eiger Dreams horrified and fascinated me. Drawn to lists, like the Fifty Classic Climbs and Colorado 14ers, I found that there were six classic north faces in the Alps: Eiger, Matterhorn, Grand Jorasses, Petit Dru, Piz Badile, and the Cima Grande di Laverado. On a previous trip to Europe to climb I climbed the Matterhorn, though by the easiest route - the Hornli Ridge, and Mont Blanc, the tallest mountain in the Alps. The Grande Jorasses and the Petit Dru are both part of the Mont. Blanc massif. On that trip I also visited the Tre Cima di Laverado, where the Cima Grande is the center peak of three giant stone spires. Intimidated by the 1500-foot north face and lacking a strong partner, I fell back to the Cima Piccolissima via the Preuss Crack. On a separate trip, in early July, I went to the Eiger. It was too early to climb it and it wasn't "in condition", all covered in snow. The Eiger is primarily a rock mountain and snow on it makes it tougher. Instead I climbed the Eiger's higher, easier neighbors: the Monch and the Jungfrau. 

So now I'm headed back. This time more determined and more focused. More experienced and while I will be safe, more aware of my limited time  to get things done. The north face of the Eiger might not be out of reach for me, but it is more than I can wrap my head around right now. I need to learn the mountain first. I set my sights slightly lower for now, and maybe forever. My plan is to climb the Mitteleggi Ridge. This is the northeast ridge of the Eiger and it is possible to climb 10,000 vertical feet from the town of Grindelwald clear to the summit via this route. Along the way are two huts - climbing in Europe is so civilized. Weather, conditions, and other climbers will determine our exact plan, but we plan to at least stay in the Mitteleggi Hut, which is situated on the ridge at the start of the main difficulties 2000 feet below the summit.

On this two week trip I have only two goals: summit of the Eiger and the north face of the Cima Grande. We'll spend a week at each mountain, waiting for weather if necessary. Hopefully that will be enough time. I'm not going to Europe to do some random climbing. I'm not there to move around, find the best weather, and climb there. I'm there for these two mountains. If they go smooth, we might have time for some other things. We? Of course I have a partner. Most of my climbing partners were surprisingly uninterested in this adventure. I guess it is more of a personal quest but the objectives seem so universally appealing that I figured my problem was going to be limiting the size of the party. Alas, that wasn't the case, but my partner for this trip is a good one: Homie. 

Homie is a mountain guy, through and through. He's tough, he's nearly impervious to weather, and he never gets tired. He hasn't done much technical climbing in the last few years, but we did some training climbs and he'll be fine. He's seen photos of these mountains. For a climber, that's enough. The desire to climb them is innate for people like us. One look at them and you find yourself searching for the line of ascent, wondering if blank sections will be climbable. He's on board with the plan for now. I worry if the weather doesn't cooperate, though. It's his vacation as well and he doesn't want to spend it sitting in a cafe sipping lattes while watching the rain obscure his beloved mountains.

We're heading to the Eiger first, though it might still be a bit early. The hut has only recently opened and we're not even sure the ridge has been climbed yet this season. But the travel to Grindelwald is straightforward train rides directly from the Zurich airport, while travel to the Tre Cime is annoyingly complex via public transportation. Shelter is easier there, though, as there is really but one place to stay: the Auronzo hut, which is more like a spartan hotel. I'm at DIA now and in an hour I'll be in the air. Tomorrow morning I'll be in Switzerland…

The Diving Board w/Chris and Alex

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Pop quiz: How many 5.14 climbers does it take to get an old, out-of-shape, 5.11a-at-his-best climber to the top of an overhanging 5.11 offwidth?

Answer: Two appears to be sufficient. With the proper 6:1 hauling system it might be possible with one 5.14 climber. I know it has been done before with just one 5.13 climber, but the climber involved was in better shape then.

On a completely unrelated note, I climbed the Diving Board this morning with Chris Weidner and Alex Honnold. Chris is well known in the Boulder area, not only for his cutting edge climbing (he just freed an old aid route called Centaur, which is just right of the Diving Board, at 5.13c), but also for his great writing, which often appears in the Boulder Camera. It turns out that this Alex guy is also some sort of famous climber, though from the way he was chatting on about biking and hiking the CA 14ers, I thought he might have been an ultra-runner. But when Alex mentioned that he might give the Longs Peak Triathlon a try, sans cord, and I said he should go for the speed record he asked, "Does that involve running? Because I won't do that. I mean, I'll do anything for speed, but I Won't Do That!"

Alex would hate the reference to Meatloaf. He's a huge Taylor Swift fan. He showed us the tattoo he got of her on his lower back - chick style. Speaking of showing his body, at one point Alex pulled up his sleeve, flexes his bicep, and says, "Check out my biker tan!" Uh, Alex, that's not a biker's tan. That's a normal tan. A biker tan is on your legs. But this is a guy who normally wears a shirt about as often as Matthew McConaughey, so any lack of tan on his upper body constituted a "biker's tan."

Speaking of biking, Alex and Cedar Wright (no relation obviously or I'd be a better climber) recently linked up all 15 California 14ers via human power (biking, hiking, and climbing) in just three weeks. It might be the first time it's been done. Andrew Hamilton did the 58 Colorado 14ers under human power in 19 days, but Cedar and Alex gave their linkup a twist that isn't likely to be repeated soon. They tried to climb the hardest route to each summit. For instance, Alex onsight soloed the 15-pitch, 10c Keeler's Needle to get to the summit of Whitney. They pair soloed the Mithril Dihedral (10a) on Russell. For the Palisades they started with a solo up Temple Crag. Dark Star (20 pitches, 10c) for Alex and Sun Ribbon Arete (17 pitches, 5.9) for Cedar. They then linked up Sill, Polemonium, North Palisade, Starlight, and Thunderbolt. The entire link-up, bike-to-bike, in 17 hours! For Langley, they onsighted a 10a route on the North Face. Like a couple of bats out of hell, they raged across the Sierra.

Alex Honnold

Okay, that was a stretch...

Oh, yeah, biking. Alex just recently rode the Death Ride. This is 125 miles of road biking and over 15,000 feet of climbing. Hans just did this also. Alex rode with his sister and he told me with some satisfaction, "And we were faster than Hans." Yeah, but Hans is more of a rock climber, Alex. Aren't you more of a cyclist?

So, what was I talking about again? Climbing, that's right. We climbed the Diving Board. Chris had never done it before, but since he'd been working the much harder Centaur right next to it, he wanted to tick it. So, why not just go climb it with Alex, right? Turns out Chris and I made plans to go climb it before Alex came along. Alex, knowing that the crux was offwidth, was hoping to grab a toprope on it, as he's been known to fall out of offwidths. Chris, an acclaimed wide master, agreed to be his guide and we were a threesome.

We met at 5 a.m. I got out of the car in my fancy new REI climbing pants and bright green tech shirt to say good morning to the lads and before I can open my mouth Alex says, "What the heck are you wearing? Waders?" Hmmm... Maybe my stretchy new pants aren't as cool as I thought they were. Later he'd say to me, "You look all ready for Europe with your fluorescent shirt and two-tone pants." I don't think that was positive comment on my fashion sense.

Chris put together the rack with my input: "I'd take doubles of everything" and Alex's: "If you take any #2's I'll be embarrassed to be roped to you." We did the short approach to the base of the Redgarden Wall. It was decided that I'd do the least damage leading and I took off up the Ramp Route. I ran out the entire rope to a ledge part-ways up the third pitch of the Redguard Route. Chris and Alex followed about ten feet apart on the end of the rope. I offered to keep leading and they quickly agreed, as they were having a very social morning, climbing along together. For a guy who is supposed to be shy, Alex is very rarely not talking. He has a lot to say and, with his lifestyle, most of it is very interesting.

For instance, the Naked Edge came up and I asked if he had climbed it. He had. In fact, he had soloed it. I wonder how many people have soloed the Edge. I can think of Jim Collins, Derek Hersey, Rolando Garibotti, and now Alex Honnold.

I led up the next 300 feet or so to start of the Diving Board. I went up to the right of the Dead Bird Flake, the way I always go, but Chris pointed out that the other side is strictly the correct way. I still haven't done that. Now that we had arrived at the hard climbing, I turned over the sharp end to Chris.
Alex belayed while I shot some photos.

When Alex arrived at my belay, he thought I had only one piece as an anchor. I moved my body to show him the other piece (which actually wasn't that good, but he didn't need to know that) and he seemed pretty happy about that. This is funny, since I had to talk Alex into even clipping into the belay. Since he was belaying Chris with the Gri-Gri and would in fact, just climb the route that way (without ever being tied directly to the rope), he figured he was secure enough.

As Chris labored above, on the dicey traverse and pumpy, overhanging crack, I quizzed Alex on his triple solo link-up in Zion. During this link-up he soloed Moonlight Buttress (11 pitches, 5.12d), Monkeyfinger (9 pitches, 12b), and Shune's Buttress (7 pitches, 11c). I'd done all three routes, albeit in slightly different style, so I was keen to hear more about it. When Alex soloed Moonlight Buttress in 2008, he blew every climber's mind. Now he solos it again, at the start of a three-wall day. He made is sound casual and said, "It's not that hard. I think it is 12b/c." He got to climb past a porta-ledge during this ascent. He got to their bivy spot, that they took at least a day of climbing to get to, in 45 minutes.

Starting the crux pitch

I tell others that Alex has the most dangerous job in the world. I'm absolutely serious about that. He is a professional climber because of his outrageous solos. He'd be the first one to tell you that many others can climb harder than he can. Alex tops out at a relatively lowly 5.14c. Okay, that isn't lowly by any standards, but, hey, chicks climb harder. Alex's livelihood is based upon solo climbs that are certain death for every other human on earth. So, what job do you think is more dangerous than that?

Chris, on the other hand, is more like me: we prefer a rope. I guess that is about where our similarities end when it comes to climbing. He works 5.14 routes. I work 5.10. On a good day, maybe I work a 5.11. But he's a super nice guy and is incredibly humble. He shows tremendous respect to all the funky Eldo classics and claims that 5.11 in Eldo always feels hard for him. I hope we get a chance to do more climbing together.

Chris set up a belay in the alcove at the top of the first pitch and Alex followed quickly and easily. Who'd have thunk it? I followed in my practiced style of bumbling feet, uncoordinated deadpoints and whimpering. I was nervous before starting up. Not only because the climbing is hard, steep, and very exposed, but because I didn't want to appear like too much of a Gumby. If you agree to climb the Diving Board, you should at least be able to come close to climbing it. I was worried I'd have to aid it.

The prospect of aiding the pitch was removed by Alex's generous cleaning of gear. He did this to make things easier on me. Little did he know that he was making it harder. All those pieces he pulled were potential handholds! With Chris giving me a nice tight belay (I'd like to think he wasn't pulling me up it, but I'm not sure about that), I was able to claw my way to the belay.

Once again I chatted with Alex while Chris did the dirty work above. Chris pointed out to me that he is no speed climber. I'd have to concur here, at least compared to Alex. Compared to me, on 5.11, he's greased lightning! Nevertheless, Chris has power to burn and he carefully worked out the deceptive and burly crux for the onsight. With the security of the toprope, Alex did well also. Now it was my turn. What's the opposite of "well"? That's what I did.

I got up to the crux, though even getting there was tiring and difficult. If you are really strong, I think you can do the Diving Board without an offwidth move, but to do that, you have to lock-off some bad holds very low. I was forced to do an offwidth move and I fell off five or six times before I got through it. Initially I'd drop five or six feet down, due to rope stretch. At one point, I climbed up and got stuck. I had a bit of slack in the rope and yelled up, "Take!" And then "Up rope!" But the rope didn't move and I fell off. To be fair, the time between me calling for tension and falling off was just a few seconds. Also, I didn't want to be yelling too hysterically for fear that Alex and Chris would think that I'd been turned into a little girl, and not the kind of little girl that sends V10, either.

By the third time I fell off, I think Chris was getting a bit annoyed or bored, as he took to taking in the rope with a bit more rigor. Each time I hung from the rope I had to weigh taking the time I need to recover some strength with the fear that my partners might think I'm unconscious. If I rested too little, I'd eventually not be able to move at all. I finally worked out a sequence of a huge reach between hand jams, some dicey foot smears, a slap to a Gaston, a pinch of the chockstone, a desperate armbar, and a hidden side-pull to finally get above that section. Thankfully my belayer hadn't nodded off and the rope kept coming tight with each incremental movement.

There is another semi-hard section above the crux, but it probably only felt hard because of the toll the crux took on my arms. I inched up to the belay to find Alex and Chris in good spirits, despite Alex's hunger. We scrambled down the slabs to the trail and hiked back to the car. Alex wanted me to go pair solo the Bastille Crack with him, but I demurred, saying I had to go to work, but the truth is that I  don't want to solo that route. I think I could do it, mentally, but the risk-reward ratio isn't there for me. And it would be too stressful to be fun, I think. If I climbed it every day for a month, then it could be fun, but not now and probably not ever.

Heading down the East Slab descent

I wonder how many 5.14 climbers it would take to get me up the North Face of the Eiger. Or Cerro Torre. I think a baker's dozen should do it. I only need to meet eleven more rock jocks, coordinate their schedules, and pretty soon you'll be reading about me on the Internets. Oh snap! Wait... I guess you are already reading this on the Internet... Well, you know what I mean, like here.

Barr Mountain Trail Race Report

Doesn't that look like a funnel cloud over Pikes Peak?

Results

This is an excellent trail race and a great training race for the Pikes Peak Marathon, as it is essentially half that race - the easier half, the lower half, and, actually, the shorter half. Despite that, it was all that I could handle and the most overwhelming feeling I got after this race was that I do not want to do the Pikes Peak Marathon. Double this distance just didn't seem feasible, since this race, in slightly over two hours, wiped me out. I was once again in awe of Homie for having finished the Hard Rock 100, which is equivalent to about NINE BMTRs in a row!

I had done this race just twice before. Once back in 2002 when I ran 2:04:01 (6th out of 32 in my age group) and then two years ago, with Sheri, when I ran 2:10:12 (5th out of 36 in my age group). Last year the race was called off due to massive wild fires in the area. This year Sheri and I were both entered again.

We drove down to Manitou Springs on Saturday and stayed at the Cliff House - a way nice, expensive hotel right in the heart of town and a mile from the starting line. The next morning, after a cup of coffee, we walked up to the start, used the bathroom, and I jogged around the start for 2-3 minutes before the gun. You'd think that wasn't much of a warm-up and you'd be right, but I didn't feel I needed much for this race. It starts by climbing 3800 vertical feet up to Barr Camp and my stride would be very short for almost this entire distance. By the time I'd get to really run, I'd be overly warm.

We had a few friends running this race as well. George Zack would finish 10th overall and win the Masters division with a time of 1:53:33. Kristi Anderson finished 4th overall, 2nd masters, 1st in her age group and set all the course records for each split. Her time was 2:06:47. Susan Nuzum, normally much faster than me, had an off day and finished as 9th woman, 3rd in her age group with a time of 2:17:45.

The race started in a very relaxed manner. "Okay, are you guys, ready?...Go." No count down, no gun, and off we went. I was wearing a HRM and tried to keep my heart rate between 160 and 165. Any higher and I'd blow. Any lower and I knew I was dogging it. I yo-yo-ed a bit with a woman named Shari Marshall before settling in a bit ahead of her. I ran every step of the race with the exception of the aid stations. I walked through each aid station to get some Gatorade and/or water down. I didn't carry any food or water with me. This was probably a mistake, as a couple of gels might have helped, but it is so nice to run unencumbered.

I knew my splits from the last two races and I topped the W's right in between them. I stayed 1-2 minutes ahead of my pace from two years ago and this encouraged me. I knew I had a shot at breaking 2:10. After 35 minutes, Kristi passed me and I let Shari go by as well, as I knew they were probably racing each other. They didn't get too far ahead though, and I'd pass Shari back for good about an hour into the race.

I got to Barr Camp in 1:20 and after downing two cups of liquid, charged down the descent. The first half-mile of descending is rocky and technical and I took it fast, probably too fast, as you'll see. I caught and passed a handful of people, including Kristi. She cheered me on as I went by, but our roles were reversed about a mile later. I had nothing. Well, nothing except a side stitch. I'd eventually get a right calf cramp, too. But energy-wise, I had nothing. I tried to flow and keep my speed up, but it was a struggle the whole way down. The flat sections and the two slight uphills were really tough. I started to imagine how hard the Pikes Peak Marathon would be. It just didn't seem possible to me at that point, despite the fact that I've finished it five times.

The thing that kept me going, though, was that I felt I could still break 2:10. Two years ago my buddy Brian Hunter was chasing me on the descent and that probably motivated me to run faster. So, I could only be two minutes slower this time or I wouldn't make it. I felt like I was five minutes slower, but at each checkpoint, I felt I still had a chance, despite not knowing my downhill splits. I guess I'm just an optimist.

I got passed by one more guy near the bottom of the trail and then we were on the steep, paved descent. This angle of pavement is painful to run but I tried to keep the wheels turning. The finish of this race is a bit of a heartbreaker. You make a 90-degree left turn and have to run up the steepest grade of the entire race. If this grade occurred anywhere else on the course there is no way I would run it, but right at the finish, with everyone lining the course, there is no way you can walk it, though I came awfully close with my pitiful pace.

I finished 35th overall, 30th male, 2nd in my age group with a time of 2:08:27. I crossed the line and almost immediately collapsed. I was past being done. I hobbled over to the shade of a tent and laid down on the ground near George. After a bit I saw Kristi and got up to go congratulate her on a great race. She looked fresh as a daisy, but modestly echoed my thoughts on the near impossibility of doing the Pikes Peak Marathon.

Sheri finished 101st overall, 25th female, and 6th in her age group. She ran 2:32:20 for about a 3-minute improvement over our 2011 race. She had some cramping issues with her calves again. This has been a problem that has plagued her for years. On this course, though, she gets to use her road running speed, as the descent is pretty smooth. She said she passed about twenty people on the descent.

There seems to be one advantage of getting older...I'm moving up in my age-group placing. It might be a small consolation to be older, weaker, and slower, but at least it is something to keep me coming back for more punishment.

What's Really Important - Stress on Harvard and Columbia

On the summit of Mt. Harvard

Photos
Strava

Each year since 2010, I've led a Tendril Mountain Challenge, where a group from work climbs a 14er. In the past we've climbed these mountains:

• 2009: Longs Peak - Keyhole Route
• 2010: Longs Peak - North Face
• 2011: North Maroon Peak
• 2012: Grays Peak

This year the peak was Mt. Harvard, the 3rd highest peak in the state at 14,423 feet. I'd climbed Harvard back in 2001. I was training for the Pikes Peak Marathon and ran/hiked the peak and then did the traverse over to Mt. Columbia. I don't recall that traverse very well, but do remember that you have to drop a long ways, going through complicated terrain. This will be relevant later.

The plan was for everyone to meet at the trailhead at 6 a.m. Kevin told me that he'd be starting early, at 4:30 a.m., to give himself every chance of making at the summit. Kevin had been diligent with his training, making every early-morning, high-altitude training hike, but at 260 pounds this was going to be a huge challenge. At least 50% harder than his successful ascent of Grays last year.

Sheri, Danny, and I arrived at the trailhead at 5:55 a.m. and got ourselves ready. At 6:05 there was still no sign of George or Marcel. At 6:15 we started up the trail, sure that the other two had decided against the 2:30 a.m. wake-up time in order to make the trailhead on time from Boulder. I had forgotten what a great trail there is up Harvard. From start to finish, this trail is one of the most enjoyable of any of the 14ers. It has more dirt and is more runnable (not that we ran) than about any other peak, save Pikes Peak and maybe Bierstadt.

We caught up to Kevin after 4.4 miles. He was in good spirits and had progressed nicely. My only concern was that he was breathing pretty heavily, even while resting on a rock. He told us that George was ahead of us, having started at 5 a.m. We encouraged Kevin to keep moving, but at a slow, sustainable pace and continued on. The plan was for me to summit with my family and then descend back to Kevin and guide him to the top and back down. We did the same thing last year on Grays.

At 14,000 feet on Mt. Harvard

The rest of the ascent of Harvard went very well. Along the way I re-learned Taylor series and the equivalent series for sin(x) and cos(x). Danny then taught me the proof of Euler's equation:

I'll leave the proof as an exercise to the reader, but here's a hint: write out the Taylor series for  and then substitute xi for x and collect like terms in the infinite series. I know, typical chit-chat on a 14er. I think we passed a group of ladies discussing the standard model of particle physics and debating the existence of the Higgs boson. 

Just thirty feet below the summit lies the 3rd class crux of the route. Here we found George, enjoying a snack. I encouraged him to make the true summit, but he was more than content to call it good from where he was. We continued to the top, took our photos, relaxed and ate our sandwiches. It took us 3h15m to make the summit and we spent thirty minutes on top. We started down a little after 10 a.m. and just a couple hundred feet down Danny finally convinced Sheri to do the traverse to Columbia. He had been pressuring to do this the entire day, but Sheri resisted. From the vantage point of a little ways down the traverse didn't look so bad and she relented. They headed off on a rising traverse back up to the ridge while I continued down in search of Kevin.

Forming a "21" on top of Mt. Harvard. It takes years of yoga to form a "1" this perfectly...

I first ran across George, who was blocked from further passage by an ornery mountain goat. I pushed past him and eye-balled the ungulate. I knew from experience that once I had a hold of the dangerous black horns on its head, I could wrestle it to the ground and calm it down. I feinted to my left and the wooly beast bit. I lunged back back to the right, grabbed the horns and pressed the creature gently to the ground. Once there I laid my weight across it and whispered in its ear. Soon it was docile and I let it up. It was mine now.

Or maybe the goat just moved off the trail, we took some photos and I moved on. I can't be expected to remember every detail exactly...

I descended to 12,900 feet, getting more and more worried that I had not seen Kevin yet. Then, much to my surprise, I came upon Marcel and his German Shepard. He had obviously arrived late. He informed me that Kevin had already given up and was headed down. I was disappointed for Kevin. I know he had put a lot of work into preparing for this climb. The climbing was just too steep as the trail neared the peak and it was coming so far from the trailhead that Kevin was already significantly weakened.

But what was I to do now? I wanted to rejoin Danny and Sheri, so I made a beeline for the technical ridge connecting Harvard and Columbia. I knew that the ridge itself could be traversed mostly at the 4th class level, with some short 5th class sections and one 20-foot downclimb of a 5.7 crack. Anton Krupicka had recently blogged about this. 

I contoured the cirque, climbing up and down some small ridges and boulder-hopped and scrambled my way up to the ridge. From here I could see the entire second half of the lower traverse to Columbia  (the ascent portion of it) and all the terrain looked relatively easy. I yelled "Danny!" and scanned the terrain below. I did not see them anywhere. It had taken me about an hour to gain the ridge. How long had it been since Sheri and Danny left me? I didn't take the time to calculate this, which would turn out to be a bad mistake. I knew I had done the traverse in less than 90 minutes years ago and figured they would take two hours. This was another mistake. Back then I was pushing the pace. They were just hiking the peaks. That would take at least three hours for them, if they didn't get lost. This was all off-trail and I knew Sheri was reluctant to go without me. I wondered if they could handle it without me, but seeing such easy terrain below, I figured they were ahead of me. I scrambled along the ridge and called down a couple more times, but heard no response and saw nothing.

Little did I know but they were down there and they both had heard me. Sheri had even seen me and commented to Danny, "Look! There are climbers up there." They couldn't hear what I was saying and figured it was a climber yelling commands to their partner. Danny tried to call back, but I didn't hear anything. They didn't try very hard since they never suspected it was me. They knew I was down on the trail, helping Kevin to the summit.

I continued the tricky climbing along the ridge, finding the 5.7 crux downclimb and noticing a rappel sling above it. I was careful here and really only had to commit fully to jamming the crack for the last five or six feet. I was focused and solid here. Eventually the ridge becomes gentle and easy. The final 700 vertical feet is solid talus and I was on top of Columbia six hours after leaving the trailhead. Still there was no sign of Sheri or Danny and I was sure they were ahead of me on the descent, so I hurried on to catch them.

All the way down the steep, loose, unpleasant descent I queried each person I passed if they had seen a woman and a teenager. The first guy, an older guy, near the summit, said, yes, he had seen them, but a long time ago. I figured that they could be up to thirty minutes ahead of me, so I believed this. But every other person I passed said they had not seen them. I grew frustrated with these other people. How could they not notice them? Maybe they were so fatigued with effort and so oxygen deprived and so focused on their own climb that they didn't register them or at least didn't remember them. 

I flew down the descent, getting negative replies from everyone. I hit the main trail and was a bit surprised I hadn't caught them yet, as I knew I must have come down that peak much faster than Sheri and Danny. I dumped the rocks out of my shoes and continued running down the trail. When I came across a huge group of campers and they hadn't seen Sheri and Danny I finally got worried that they were not ahead of me, but behind me, maybe injured or lost. 

Out of water and still not sure I decided to run to the parking lot to be 100%. I ran continuously, wanting to reach the parking lot before Kevin or George left. I had no cell service and knew there was no service at the trailhead either. I'd need them to drive into Buena Vista and contact others to help search for my family. I continued to query everyone and was quite distraught when I reached the parking lot and they were not there. Logically, I should have known they were just taking longer to do the traverse, since I started so long after them, I just couldn't get it out of my mind that I was trailing them. I did not calculate that they would actually have to drop lower than I did. I was so sure they were in trouble at this point.

Kevin and George were in the parking lot and after I related the situation, they asked what they could do. Anything and everything I wanted, they were there to do it. Kevin and George loaded me up with extra food and water. I packed what extra clothes I could find. I gave them the numbers of the four strongest people I knew. The four people I'd want looking for me. The four people who I knew with 100% certainty would do absolutely whatever it took to save my family: Homie, Tom, Stefan, and Mark. Every single one of them was stronger, faster, tougher than me. Every single one them highly experienced at hiking through the night, off trail, for hours, for days continuously. 

Kevin took off for town as I headed back up the trail alone. Kevin was told to contact these guys but tell them not to leave for Buena Vista for at least two hours. Danny was in shorts with no long pants, hat or gloves. I was carrying his hat and gloves and forgot to give them to him when we split up. At this point I was so sure that they were immobile and possibly worse. By the time I found them, it would be late. I wouldn't be able to get them out alone. I knew Mark would be bringing an army of HAM radio operators and we'd have communications. As long as the injuries were not too serious we'd be out the next day with a story to tell. Yet I couldn't stop my mind from racing to worse possibilities. 

I'd go through cycles of being calm and just working the problem to my mind racing with all sorts of disaster scenarios. The descent from the ridge was probably loose. They could have pulled off a large block that broke one of their legs. It's unlikely that both were injured, but possible. Even if just one was injured the other might have to stay with them or reluctant to leave them. Then I'd think that they were more cautious than I am and were less likely to get injured than me. Yet, where could they be?

I told Kevin and George that my plan was to re-ascend Harvard and then retrace their steps on the traverse to Columbia. I expected to find them somewhere along this traverse. I wanted George to hike up to the junction with the Columbia trail and wait there, just in case they completed the traverse. This was asking a lot, as it was four miles up to that point and George had already done the 14-mile, 4500-vertical-foot roundtrip on Harvard. Yet, he agreed. Above us thunder rolled and it started to spit rain.

The rain never really started and I started up the trail, so hopeful and expectant whenever I spied a person coming down the trail and so disappointed and distraught when each time it wasn't them. The further I went with no sign of them the more discouraged I became. I queried each person, some of whom I had talked to before. Nothing. I met Marcel coming down with his dog and it took little convincing to get him to turn around and come with me. I asked him to remain at the trail junction until George came up to relieve him. Marcel turned around and headed back up the trail with me but after a bit he talked some friendly hikers into taking his dog down with them. Marcel was out of water and worried about his dog. The hikers agreed to give the dog water and put him inside Marcel's car. That's a rather huge commitment, but it was just another instance of people helping me.

We continued up the trail. I became actutely aware that I had not eaten since the summit of Columbia and still had 3500 vertical feet to regain the summit of Harvard. I dug out some water and food to eat while I hiked along. I wasn't going to be of any help if I bonked. 

After 2.5 miles I spotted two hikers. In another moment they were close enough to recognize: Sheri and Danny. I wept with relief, doubling over, then rushed to embrace them. They had no idea what had been going on, mainly in my mind, and wondered why I was reacting like that. Marcel stayed back, giving us some space. 

It was over - an ordeal that existed almost entirely in my own mind due to some false assumptions that became too deeply ingrained. Sheri and Danny had experienced a grueling traverse, but nothing more than that. They were never stressed or worried. They were tired, hungry and dehydrated, but in great spirits having bagged two 14ers.

Marcel headed back down the trail to call off the rescue effort. He'd tell Kevin and Kevin would make another trip into Buena Vista to call the would-be rescuers. It took us another hour to get back to the trailhead, catching George just before we got there. He had been hiking in to man his post. At the trailhead we hung out a bit, Kevin, George, Marcel, and my family. I wanted us all to go to dinner but they had to get going. In Buena Vista I texted the four great friends to stand down and apologized for the fire drill.

Real or not, the stress in my mind made me appreciate how important my family is to me. Mountains are great, but they are meaningless compared to your family and your friends. 

Danny giving his opinion of the terrain he just came down on the traverse to Columbia

Mt. Princeton

Guess what mountain I just climbed?

Photos
Strava

My brother Chris was so swamped with work that he could not go on his family trip down the Grand Canyon. That was unfortunate for him, but incredibly lucky for Derek, for they tapped him to fill the open spot. Hence, it was just Sheri, Danny, and I for some 14er bagging this weekend. The target was to do the peaks named after college where Danny was accepted. First up was Princeton.

The only other time I climbed Princeton was in late September, a couple of months after I broke my back in a climbing fall. I went with Homie and remembered verglas over talus. Just like last time, we drove the 4WD road to 10,800 feet. It's only 3400 vertical feet from here to the summit and about 7.5 miles roundtrip.

The climb was pretty uneventful, but enjoyable. We passed a number of parties on the ascent and were first on top. The climbing/hiking on this peak isn't very enjoyable as it is so much talus and a significant amount that is a bit loose. Doing peaks like this sure puts m in awe of the Nolan's 14 finishers.

For as long as I've been hiking mountains with my boys I've always tried to engage them in interesting conversations to take their mind off the arduous hiking. Most of the time these have discussions have taken the form of a lesson about math or science. As my boys getting older and wiser, the tables are turning. They've mostly turned when it comes to Danny. While I still strive to engage in interesting conversations, it is now Danny teaching me. On this hike we derived the distance formula in three dimensions. Typical stuff. Sheri usually remains silent for these discussions, only speaking up when Danny fails to take into account an obscure singularity, gets the sign wrong on an integral, or fails to notice that the limit actually diverges instead of converging.

This was Danny's 20th 14er. On the summit of each 14er Danny and Derek like to form the ascent number with their bodies. With Derek absent I had to fill in and form the zero of "20".

Forming a "20" on the summit of Mt. Princeton