Zen and the Art of Step Kicking

I have a bit of a reputation among my climbing partners as the guy who loves to kick steps.  Call me crazy, but it’s true!  You’ve heard of being “in the zone”?  That’s exactly where one goes when one achieves the transcendent rhythm of kicking step after step, leading the way up a steep snowfield or couloir, breathing in synchronization with each step, and ascending almost effortlessly in a zen-like state.

I was in that zone on a recent climb (up Drift Peak’s west ridge in shin-deep snow), feeling as if I could climb all day, and I tried to observe exactly how I was climbing so that I might share a few tips on the art of kicking steps up a couloir.

For me, the key is establishing an efficient cadence, which goes like this:

·         

                         Kick-Rest-Push;  Kick-Rest-Push;  Kick-Rest-Push;  repeat . . .

1. Start by kicking a step.  If the snow is not very consolidated, press down on the snow slightly to compress it a bit.
   
2. Next take a brief “micro-rest”.  This accomplishes two things:  1) it allows you, very importantly, to achieve valuable rest as you climb (note American Alpine Club CEO Phil Powers’ essay on “The Art of Slowing Down”, which was recorded for the NPR series “This I Believe”: http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=5316322), and 2), it allows the snow underneath your step to set, so that hopefully you and your team that is following will be able to push up on the step without much further compression of the step.  The more the snow compresses as you step up, the larger the loss of both energy and elevation with each step, and a larger number of steps will be needed to complete the climb (this is largely out of one's control and depends mostly on snow condition, though route finding may help).
   
3. Next, use the step to push yourself up smoothly and firmly, and follow through by smoothly kicking the next step to continue your cadence.

It is important – and quite natural – to synchronize one’s breathing with one’s step cadence.  For me, I prefer to exhale as I push, when I am doing the most work.  Remember to breathe deeply in order to use most of your lung capacity and thereby facilitate the most efficient oxygen – carbon dioxide exchange.  Work your diaphragm so you are filling the bottom of your lungs (if you are doing it right you will feel expansion down into your belly area).  I find that I naturally tend to hold a pause in my breathing after each exhalation, but when climbing, especially at altitude, I try consciously to pause instead after each inhalation -- when the lungs are full -- again with the goal facilitating the O2-CO2 exchange.

Once I achieve the step-kicking rhythm and breath synchronization, I tend to count steps and get into a cadence where I take a certain number of steps / breaths (e.g. 20), and then a certain number of breaths (e.g. 3-5) on a rest step, for recovery (those numbers may vary, depending on the level of exertion resulting from the snow conditions, the altitude, and how you are a feeling on a particular day).   Also, you will work the movement of your ice axe (just prior to beginning the next step while still “in balance”) into your step-kicking cadence and breathing rhythm.  It may sound a bit complicated describing the process in words, but it will come naturally with a bit of practice in the field.

A few other points:

• The snow conditions will determine how hard to kick.  Ideally, the snow is soft enough to get at least your forefoot  into the snow, so that your team behind you can more-or-less walk up nicely-formed steps, which is far easier than using French technique up a steep slope, and far, far easier than front-pointing.
• Remember to keep yourself and your team hydrated and nourished:  even when you are in the zone, you are expending a lot of energy and becoming dehydrated, so replenish regularly.  Ensure that everyone keeps water and snacks handy so that the team does not cool off during replenishment breaks.  For me, Gu is the miracle gel that sustains me up a couloir, but of course you must determine what energy-replenishment method works best for you.  I find that I need to ingest periodically a couple of electrolyte tablets when I am working hard on an ascent, in order to avoid muscle cramps later on.
•  You won’t be able to sustain your step-kicking cadence for long unless you are in good shape from following a regular fitness program that includes both cardio and strength training.  Another good training method is to get out there and kick some steps – especially with some weight in your pack!  The conventional wisdom on a climb is to let the leader kick the steps and for the rest of the team to conserve energy by following the boot track, and, in fact, forming a “paceline” (to borrow a cycling concept) and trading off leads is certainly the most efficient way to climb (although those who are in less fit condition should take shorter leads, or defer leading altogether).  On a training climb, however, feel free to step off the boot track and kick your own booter in parallel, thereby creating the opportunity both to practice step kicking and to achieve more of a workout.  Just be sure to leave enough in reserve to finish the climb and not slow down your team significantly.
  
•  When putting in a boot track, the leader must consider the height of her teammates and, more to the point, the step length that is comfortable for shorter teammates.  Often leaders need to shorten their step length (height) to accommodate one or more of their partners (your partners will appreciate it if you speak up and ask for their feedback).  It’s very enervating and uncomfortable for a shorter climber to have to take larger steps than they would normally.  Some leaders may feel that since they are doing most of the work, and since fewer steps will require less energy, it would be best to establish a longer step length, as they prefer.  However, I have found that usually the tradeoff between kicking more steps vs. making larger steps falls in favor of more, shorter steps being much more efficient -- even for the leader.  And, of course, it is in your best interest to accommodate the abilities of your teammates, thereby achieving an overall faster climb.  The only exception is when the snow is unconsolidated such that shorter steps tend to collapse into each other .  In this situation, one is required to kick steps that are slightly farther apart, and often wider apart (and a longer rest may be required after kicking the step to give the snow more of a chance to set).  In the worst case, for unconsolidated snow that won’t set at all, it may be best for everyone to kick her or his own steps; however, if there are long sections of such snow, the team must be sure to assess avalanche danger, as well as the feasibility of completing the climb in such adverse conditions.
• As you climb, note where in the couloir the step-kicking is good, and how the snow tends to appear in those areas.  Then adjust your ascent route accordingly.  If you hit an area where you begin to flounder in unconsolidated snow, use your axe to test the firmness of adjacent areas, or move laterally in search of better snow.
• Sometimes using a crawling motion with hands assisting is a more efficient way to move.  On less steep snow, hiking poles may allow you to move more efficiently.

Hope that helps!

John Martersteck

HAMS goes to Gannett Peak

Gannett Peak:  Like Mt. Rainier, Only Better Different

For years, the High Altitude Mountaineering School (HAMS) of the Colorado Mountain Club has headed up to the Cascade Range during the week of July 4th to climb one of the standard routes on Mt. Rainier, usually Emmons Glacier, as a HAMS graduation test piece.  Although only a “14er”, Mt. Rainier is a massively glaciated volcano in the Pacific Northwest that much more closely resembles a big mountain in Alaska than do our local 14ers here in Colorado.  In recent years, we have also added an option of tackling the more technical Kautz Glacier route on Mt. Rainier.  We feel that if our students can competently, confidently, and safely climb almost 10,000’ from the trailhead to the summit of a heavily glaciated and crevassed peak such as Mt. Rainier, then they will be ready to take the next step and attempt bigger and higher mountains in Alaskan and South American ranges.

The Denver HAMS group typically chooses the week of July 4th to climb Mt. Rainier, not only to take advantage of the Independence Day holiday and thereby save a day of vacation, but primarily because the weather tends to be clear and stable, which has been a key factor in the long string of summit successes that our HAMS groups have enjoyed over the past years.  Apparently, that strategy has become increasingly popular, and unfortunately this year our streak ended -- not because we were unable to reach the summit, but because our camping and climbing permit application was rejected!  To quote from the NPS website, “Requests received in March, April and May could take up to six weeks to process because of the large number of applications. During this initial two week period (March 15-31) the Park will receive around 1,400 or more reservation requests.”  Apparently this year, the NPS could not accommodate our relatively large group of climbers during the week leading up to the July 4th holiday.

With “Plan A” no longer an option, we had a few “Plan B” alternatives:  1) re-apply for a Rainier climbing permit later in the summer, 2) climb a different peak (or two) in the Cascades, such as Mts. Baker, Hood, Adams, or Shuksan, or 3) climb a different peak somewhere else.  Several HAMS students opted to join a 4th-of-July trip led by Sr. HAMS Instructor Dave Covill to head to the Cascades and climb Mts. Baker and Shuksan, while another group of six students decided to try something completely different and backpack in to the beautiful Wind River Range in Wyoming to tackle the state high point, Gannett Peak.  Although this high 13er -- at 13,804’, it is 34’ higher than the famous Grand Teton! – is not as glaciated or as crevassed as similar mountains in the Cascade Range, it nevertheless features several serious glaciers that adorn its slopes and guard the summit, and its renowned remoteness makes it a special wilderness experience that relatively few climbers experience.

Having settled on a new objective, the next major decision for the Gannett team was which approach to take:  from the west (via Pinedale) or the east (via Dubois).  The approach from the east (via Dubois) on the Glacier Trail requires a very long, strenuous hike to high camp – about 25 miles! –  with over 5,000’ of cumulative elevation gain each way; furthermore, there are many stream crossings and route finding challenges.  However, this route offers a relatively short summit day of about seven or eight hours and a very scenic approach and destination through the heart of the Wind River Range.

On the other hand, the approach from the west (via Pinedale) on the Pole Creek trail to Titcomb Basin offers a bit shorter approach – about 20 miles each way, and a bit less elevation gain.  However, it requires a significantly longer summit day, thanks to the necessity of first climbing Bonney Pass and then descending over 1000’ to converge with the eastern approach on the Gooseneck Glacier.  Some climbers judge the western approach to be even more scenic than the one from the east (though Charlie and Diane Winger, who wrote the Highpointer's Guidebook, disagree with that opinion).

Given that most of us would be carrying about 50 lbs on our backs, the shorter approach from the west was tempting; however, the prospect of a shorter summit day that would increase the chance for a successful summit bid with a relatively large group of climbers convinced the team to choose the longer approach from the east on the Glacier Trail.

As in the Colorado Rocky Mountains, the Wind River Range experienced a heavy snow year in the Spring of 2014, and our early-season approach featured some conditions different from what climbers later in the season will likely experience:

• For starters, the Winds are renowned for horrendous swarms of voracious mosquitoes in July and August.  Although we were well-prepared with head nets and plenty of deet repellant, we were fortunate enough to hike in when the mosquitoes were just getting started, and we only occasionally needed to resort to such means of protection.
  
  
• Stream crossings were a bit dicier than usual, thanks to the meltwater from the heavy snowpack and quickly-warming conditions.
  
  
• Snow fields obscured some of the trail in the upper approach, and we lost time late on our second day (prior to reaching high camp) because we went off-route when crossing Gannett Creek.  We then lost a lot of valuable time and energy postholing about as we tried to re-locate the trail.  We finally gave up as dusk approached, and we set up our camp a couple of miles and about 800 vertical feet below high camp.  As it turned out, when we finally arrived at high camp the next day, we decided that we needed a rest day anyway prior to our summit attempt.
  
  
• The weather was nearly ideal, with clear, bluebird days during our approach and summit push, with storms building only on the fourth day of the trip (after we had summitted and set up camp (on Dinwoody Creek just below its junction with Honeymoon Creek).  We awoke early on summit day to a dizzying array of stars (and no moon), punctuated frequently by meteors and highlighted by the luminescent river of stars that comprise the Milky Way.
  
  
• As with the weather, snow conditions were near perfect!  Although there was evidence of some wet-slides on the couloirs after the previous storm, the snowpack had plenty of time to consolidate after a series of sunny days and clear, cool nights.  We started our summit bid at 2am to ensure that we were able to climb on firm snow and to summit prior to potential building of afternoon thunderstorms.
  
  As it turned out, the heavy snowpack and firm snow meant that we never felt the need to rope up.  The snow bridge across the bergschrund was sufficient to cross safely, and we found no sign of crevasses elsewhere on the glacier.  Step-kicking up the couloirs (we chose the steeper couloir on the right) was superb!  And for dessert, the glissades down the softening snow fields in early morning were sheer fun!

As indicated in the title of this article, I am tempted to assert that a climb of Gannett Peak is better than one of Mt. Rainier, but in fact, they are simply different types of mountains, and making a claim that one is better than the other is a matter of one's own perspective and preferences.  Mt. Rainier is certainly a more technical mountain, much more heavily crevassed and therefore more dangerous.  However, I judge Gannett Peak to be the more difficult summit overall, thanks to the long and difficult approach.  What I really appreciated about climbing Gannett Peak compared to Mt. Rainier:

• A favorite reason for heading to the mountains is to enjoy the solitude, and one quickly leaves civilization behind upon entering the Wind River Range!  We saw only three other climbers during our summit day (two from Bozeman, only one of whom made the summit, and one climber from Tennessee who is currently hitchhiking around the country hiking and climbing to his heart's content).  We had the mountain all to ourselves until we were half-way down.  On Mt. Rainier, however, it is difficult to avoid the crowds, and the routefinding is pretty much already done for you (just follow the cowpath to the summit!).
  
  
• The beauty of Mt. Rainier derives from the intrinsic splendor of the mountain itself, thanks to the wondrous, sculpted rock, ice, and crevasse fields that adorn its flanks, with distant volcanoes visible on the horizon.  From the summit of Gannett Peak, by contrast, the striking beauty of the surrounding jagged Rocky Mountain spires deep in the heart of the Wind River Range are almost overwhelming.
  
  
• Although the glacier travel on Gannett Peak is not as technical as on Mt. Rainier (and indeed we were somewhat disappointed to have hauled our harnesses and ropes for 50 miles and not need them -- and we were therefore sure glad we opted to bring the light 30m 8mil alpine ropes!), the routefinding, couloir climbing, and steep, exposed sections that led to an airy summit ridge was reminiscent of Denali.  All in all, Gannett Peak offers a fantastic alpine climbing experience!

I am proud of the group of HAMS grads ( Josh Gertzen, Gerry Kim, Carter Coolidge, Chris Vincent, Tim Smith, and Josh Kirk) who accompanied me on this trip, both for the individual effort and for the team effort they demonstrated to make this first-ever HAMS trip to climb Gannett Peak such a success.  I must say, I was a bit worried about how the group would fare, given the long and difficult approach, but everyone gutted it out when the going got tough and helped each other overcome his or her personal difficulties.  Each had to reach deep to surpass the challenges of a 50+ mile round trip carrying a third of his or her body weight on difficult trails through mosquito-infested backcountry, with sometimes challenging route-finding, not to mention numerous stream crossings and constant elevation change. To be sure, we were lucky to be blessed with near-perfect weather, but we can certainly attribute most of our success to each climber’s focus on achieving the goal, which included their training and preparation, their willingness to suffer a bit, and their pulling together as a team.

Although we didn't need to apply directly all of the advanced skills taught in HAMS with regard to glacier travel, the team was certainly prepared to do so, and that greatly increased our chances for success on summit day.  I believe the hours we invested practicing the technical skills during HAMS field trips and the group couloir climb (Savage Couloir) boosted everyone's confidence during the difficult, often exposed climbing that led to the summit of the elusive and majestic Gannett Peak.  What a special gift we all experienced at sunrise on top of a difficult peak amid the stunning splendor of the Wind River Range!

An attempt of a heavily-glaciated peak in the Cascade Range is quite a different experience from climbing a mountain in the Winds, and I encourage the students to maintain (and expand!) their technical skills, climbing experience, and level of fitness so that they can join one of the HAMS groups that will climb Rainier next year.  Rainier is pretty much a required check mark on the résumés of all aspiring high-altitude climbers in this country:  given its awesome beauty and technical challenges, it is a peak that simply should not be missed!  And I can state with confidence that completing one of the standard routes on Rainier will in fact be less difficult (though perhaps a bit more dangerous given the magnitude and ubiquity of the objective hazards on that massively glaciated mountain) than the climb to the summit of Gannett Peak.

I imagine that most of the HAMS students on the Gannet Peak trip just experienced the most strenuous backpacking trip of their lives by about an order of magnitude, and I am confident that they all learned quite a bit on this trip and are the better mountaineers for the experience.

John Martersteck
HAMS Co-Director

Summary of our Gannett Peak Trip Itinerary
Monday, June 30:   Leave Denver at 6:30am, lunch at the Cowboy Café in Dubois at 2pm; head out from the trailhead shortly after 4pm; hike in about 10 miles:  climb up to Arrow Pass and descend to campsite at Upper Phillips Lake about 9pm (in hindsight, we should have had lunch in Lander or Riverton and gone directly to the trailhead, which would have allowed a start about two hours sooner).
Tuesday, July 01:   Hike in another 13 miles or so past Gannett Creek.
Wednesday, July 02:   Finish the hike up to high camp, another couple of miles.  Rest for the remainder of the day to prepare for a start to the summit during early morning the next day.  In hindsight, we should have spent a bit of time scouting the start of the route:  we left camp and slogged laboriously up through rock fields for over an hour; however, on the descent, we managed to find a snow route all the way back to high camp, which would have saved us perhaps a half an hour on our ascent, had we known about it ahead of time.
Thursday, July 03:   Leave camp shortly after 2am.  Summit shortly after 6am. Descend, break camp, and hike 12 miles out to camp near the junction of Honeymoon and Dinwoody Creeks.
Friday, July 04:   Break camp about 7:30 am and start up the trail, climbing switchbacks to Honeymoon Lake.  Head back up and over Arrow Pass and descend back to the trailhead (total about 13 miles) by about 2pm.  Change into a fresh set of clothes, have a late big lunch back in Dubois -- accompanied by numerous beers and soft drinks.  The bar was packed with cowboys and cowgirls celebrating the holiday.  We just missed the Independence Day parade, but we did get to see the WWII-vintage Sherman tank leave the parade grounds!  Drive back to Denver, avoid colliding with antelope on the road, enjoy the 75mph speed limits, and finish the trip after midnight. 

At the Trailhead -- only 25 miles to High Camp!
JoshK, Chris, Carter, Tim, JoshG, Gerry, John  

                       

Entering the Wind River Range

Gerry takes a break on Arrow Pass

Heading down from Arrow Pass . . .

. . . through several burned areas

Upper Phillips Lake (Camp 1)

Spectacular Honeymoon Lakes

Our first glimpse of the elusive Gannet Peak!
Gannett Glacier, which is prominent in this view, is one serious glacier!

High Camp near the base of the Glacier

Heading up past The Gooseneck in the dawn's early light.

John takes in the view and a moment to bask in the alpenglow.

The shadow of the mountain is visible in the atmosphere!

Navigating the summit ridge, shortly after sunrise

The Teton Range is visible in the distance.

Group photo on the summit

Descending the summit ridge

Gerry experiences the joy of glissading!
photo by Carter Coolidge

Our route to the summit of Gannett Peak

Chris won't let a bit of cold water slow him down.

Afternoon T-storms building over Gannett Peak later on Summit Day

Weather forecast during the week of our Gannett Peak Trip

·         Monday  Sunny, with a high near 48. Breezy, with a west wind 20 to 22 mph, with gusts as high as 33 mph.

·         Monday Night  Mostly clear, with a low around 30. West wind 10 to 16 mph becoming north northeast after midnight. Winds could gust as high as 24 mph.

·         Tuesday  A slight chance of snow showers before noon, then a slight chance of rain showers. Some thunder is also possible. Partly sunny, with a high near 51. North northeast wind 5 to 8 mph becoming light and variable in the afternoon. Chance of precipitation is 20%.

·         Tuesday Night  A 20 percent chance of showers and thunderstorms before midnight. Partly cloudy, with a low around 31. Light and variable wind becoming west southwest 11 to 16 mph after midnight. Winds could gust as high as 24 mph.

·         Wednesday  Mostly sunny, with a high near 56. Breezy, with a south southwest wind 13 to 21 mph, with gusts as high as 30 mph.

·         Wednesday Night  Partly cloudy, with a low around 34. West southwest wind 11 to 13 mph, with gusts as high as 20 mph.

·         Thursday  A 20 percent chance of showers and thunderstorms. Mostly sunny, with a high near 58.

·         Thursday Night  A slight chance of rain and snow showers. Some thunder is also possible. Partly cloudy, with a low around 36. Chance of precipitation is 20%.

·         Independence Day  A 20 percent chance of showers and thunderstorms. Mostly sunny, with a high near 58.

·         Friday Night  A slight chance of showers and thunderstorms. Partly cloudy, with a low around 35.

·         Saturday  A slight chance of showers and thunderstorms. Mostly sunny, with a high near 58.

·         Saturday Night  A slight chance of showers and thunderstorms. Partly cloudy, with a low around 36.

·         Sunday  Sunny, with a high near 58.

Why Do You Climb?

Occasionally I am asked by friends or acquaintances, “Why do you climb?”  I believe what they are really asking is:  why spend so much time, effort, and money to do something that is ultimately pointless, particularly when the consequences of a fall (or lightning, rockfall, avalanche, etc.)  are so dire?  The question is difficult to answer, but definitely worth considering!  Before I left on an expedition to climb Denali last year, I wrote a letter to my kids to try to explain why I love to climb, figuring that I would owe them an explanation, just in case anything were to happen to me.  The following is taken from that letter, with some introductory information added for the sake of the general reader.
 
Why I Climb
Dear Tim, Emily, and Rose,

Perhaps my love for the outdoors began as a young boy during my family’s summer tent-trailer camping trips to various state and national parks each summer.  Eventually, that love led me to Colorado, where I began to overcome my fear of heights by climbing the state’s “14ers” (Colorado boasts about 54 beautiful mountains that exceed 14,000’).  I happened to meet Debbie, who also loves the mountains and who was engaged on her own personal quest to climb the 14ers.  We joined forces and accompanied each other up the remaining 14ers on our respective lists.  Eventually, my climbing partner became my life partner, and we trekked through the Cordillera Blanca in Peru for our honeymoon, where I set foot on a glaciated mountain (Mt. Pisco, a 19er) for the first time in my life -- in rented double boots -- negotiating steep slopes, narrow ridges, and attention-grabbing crevasses in darkness and white-out conditions.  I loved it!

I joined the Colorado Mountain Club and signed up for Basic Mountaineering School, whose instructors provided my introduction to technical climbing on rock and snow.  I then attended the CMC’s High Altitude Mountaineering School, learned how to ice climb, and enjoyed climbing in the Cascades on Mt. Baker’s North Ridge and Rainier.  Thus I happened to discover my greatest passion in sport -- climbing and mountaineering -- later in my life, at the beginning of my second half-century in fact.  This is an avocation that is not without risk.  As I am about to head to Alaska to climb Denali, “The High One,” I find myself wishing to share a few thoughts about my love of climbing.  I want you to understand why I feel that if I get injured or worse during a climb, then, well, it was a risk I have carefully considered and feel strongly that it was a risk worth taking.

Keep in mind that risk management is about assessing the impact of a risk, its probability of occurrence, and its consequences.  For example, I feel that a father with young children should take far less risk than an old geeser like me with grown children, because the consequences are obviously so much greater for young children to lose a parent than for grown children.  Also keep in mind that I am not out there attempting cutting edge climbs, but climbs that I feel are within my ability and skill level.  Moreover, I consider myself to be a very safety-conscious climber, one who has invested a lot of time and effort to learn the technical skills and knowledge required of an alpinist, and one who enjoys achieving and maintaining the fitness level and experience that are required to climb safely.  That said, I will be the first to admit that the objective hazards (e.g. rock fall, avalanches, lightning, storms and other weather hazards, snow conditions, etc.) inherent in climbing impose a level of grave risk that is impossible to eradicate entirely.

Which brings me back to the question at hand:   why do I and other climbers spend so much time, effort, training, and financial investment to climb rock and ice walls and mountains, particularly when such endeavors seem ultimately pointless (at least with respect to changing the world in a meaningful way), and especially considering the risk of injury and mortal peril.  This is a very difficult question to answer, and many climbers have written books in an effort to answer this question.  Maybe someday I will too, but in the meantime, I can try to offer a few points of explanation.

Everyone’s passions are different, but they originate from the same source – that of experiencing a profound and intense feeling of satisfaction that derives from doing what one loves, and then setting goals, working hard, and exerting mind and body to improve and achieve ever-more-difficult goals in the face of uncertainty.  For climbers, that sense of accomplishment is magnified because we must overcome our fear to succeed, and we practice our art amidst the profound beauty of God’s creation, which we sense deeply in a tangible, extraordinary way.   In a nutshell:   climbing offers the joy of feeling radically and deeply alive to the core of one’s soul!

I believe each of you has already experienced similar passions, be it music, dance, theater, academic achievement, or athletic pursuits (snow riding, fencing, etc.) -- whatever it is that you love deep in your soul, that makes you feel most alive and happy. With climbing, as with fencing, I love the mental relaxation that comes from total focus on the needs of the moment.  That combined with the physical and technical challenges provide a lifetime of enjoyment and satisfaction as one constantly tries to improve and eventually to master the ever-more-difficult skill levels that are required to achieve one's desired level of proficiency.

If you look at some of the photos of our climbs, you will see that one of my favorite types of climbing is snow couloirs, and we Coloradans are blessed with a wealth of magnificent mountain faces on various peaks in our state that host excellent opportunities to climb snow couloirs.  It is difficult to explain to non-climbers the physical and mental satisfaction of moving on steep rock or snow, and in particular, the fun and focus of rhythmically kicking step after step up a steep snow slope for extended periods of time, which is exactly what is required to ascend a couloir, with the metal points of one’s ice axe and crampons the only thing preventing a potentially long and dangerous fall.  I can’t wait to do it again!

There are so many aspects of climbing that lead to personal growth and the simple joy of doing:  mastering the technical skills (and understanding the physics and engineering) involved with protecting a climb, planning and preparing for difficult climbs and expeditions, managing risk, and overcoming hardship, discomfort, obstacles, setbacks, and objective hazards, to name a few.  Learning how to deal with suffering, which is an integral part of life, is a lesson well learned from alpinism. Moreover, there is great satisfaction in accomplishing a difficult goal when one has fears and doubts about whether or not he or she will be able to succeed.  For all climbers, moreover, and especially for me personally -- given my deeply-ingrained fear of exposure -- the satisfaction of facing dangerous terrain, overcoming my fear, and carrying on regardless is especially satisfying (though I must admit, often while struggling at a crux, trying to control my fear, I sometimes question my own sanity!).

Another important and wonderful gift that the mountains offer is the opportunity to experience deeply the profound beauty, complexity, and wonder of nature  . . . the total focus and awareness of one’s present surroundings . . . the encounters with the wildlife that shares these remote realms . . . the profound sense of joy, sometimes exhilaration, of moving on rock and snow and ice  . . . of achievement from accomplishing goals, and of feeling totally alive and present  . . . of feeling blessed and close to God.  Somehow the solitude, quiet, and beauty of the backcountry, the exertion and the overwhelming sense of presence, brings peace and joy to the soul, as life’s worries and troubles are totally purged for the moment and subsequently become less of a concern in the long run.

Finally, I am so wonderfully and specially blessed to be able to share all that with my best friend, soulmate, and life partner, which magnifies the fun of each excursion to the mountains.

My hope and prayer is that each of you follows your heart and pursues your passion, despite the risks and hardships.  The depths of your passions and your relationships (with your friends, your siblings, your parents, your children, your community, your selves, and your Creator) will ultimately determine the level of happiness that you will achieve in your life.
With love,

       Dad

On Climbing and Cheating

In the wake of the Lance Armstrong cheating revelations, a few high-profile climbers have likened the use of supplemental oxygen when climbing the high 8000m peaks to cheating, e.g. doping and using performance-enhancing drugs.  For example, one of the climbers I much admire, Mark Twight, recently blogged an article entitled “What the cheaters have done to us” (quoted in Dane’s Cold Thistle blog, which is widely followed by ice climbers http://coldthistle.blogspot.com/2013/01/what-cheaters-have-done-to-us.html ).   Similarly, Jeff Jackson lamented the use of supplemental oxygen in an article in the May issue of Rock & Ice in his editorial "Mount Everest is Completely Irrelevant."  Famous ice climber Will Gadd has also jumped on the bandwagon, directly characterizing the use of supplemental oxygen as cheating in his blog entitled “High altitude dopers and Armstrong” ( http://willgadd.com/high-altitude-dopers-and-armstrong/ ) from which I quote:

If Lance is going to lose his 7 Tour titles for doping then there should be many thousands fewer ascents of Everest on the books as well: only about 170 people have climbed Everest without oxygen, which is probably about the same number who have ridden an international champion level cycling race “clean.”

But both cyclists and Everesteers want something so bad (winning or the summit) that they will use any means to get there. Lance might have an argument that winning the Tour de France was impossible without doping, but climbers don’t even have that argument as the highest point on earth has been reached  by 170 people give or take. Diamox, oxygen, and a host of other drugs are commonly used in high-altitude climbing/walking up fixed ropes to make the summit lower; if you use drugs to get there then in my view you didn’t get there. I wrote about this for Explore magazine a while back, but as I listened to all the outrage in the outdoor community about Lance’s doping I just couldn’t stop thinking about all the dopers, and the acceptance of that doping, in high-altitude guided walking on Everest and other mountains. The Everesteers at least admit to their doping (it’s hard to hide that oxygen mask), but clearly they are using artificial means to reach a goal. That’s doping, that’s saying the means justify the end.

Seriously, Will?  So Norgay and Hillary didn’t really summit Everest because they used bottled oxygen?  Do we really need to put an asterisk next to their names in the history books? I don’t think so!

The accusation that climbing with the aid of supplemental oxygen, or even with the assistance of a guiding service, is tantamount to cheating is plainly misguided.  The cheating accusation clearly does not apply to mountaineering if for no other reason than that climbing a mountain is not a race or contest!  There are no official contest rules to be broken or cheated.  There is no prize, award, fame, or glory to be awarded to the winner, as with races (the exception of a difficult first ascent notwithstanding).  Climbing is about personal satisfaction!  Certainly it is more difficult and “pure” and admirable and praiseworthy to climb a high mountain without using supplemental oxygen, but it is simply wrong to accuse a climber who employs such aid as cheating.  For those who disagree, I must ask:  where does one draw the line on cheating?  Must we resort to climbing the world’s highest peaks in the time-honored tradition of the first ascensionists by wearing hobnail boots, natural-fiber clothes, and using hemp ropes? What would the early hard men think about the advantages of modern tents, double boots, Gore-tex jackets, crampons, and carbon fiber ice tools?  How about freeze-dried food, energy gels, and the like?   Are today’s rock climbers who climb with the aid of chalk and sticky rubber shoes cheating as well?    In fact, aren’t we all really “using artificial means to reach our goals” when compared to the first ascensionists, who were truly ground-breaking explorers?

Well, maybe not one amazing guy who went to extraordinary lengths to eschew all forms of aid:   Goran Kropp, who rode his bike 7,000 miles from Sweden with all his supplies and equipment, with no support, to the mountain, who navigated the Khumbu Icefall by his own route (it is normally established and maintained by a small army of Sherpas), and who eventually completed a solo ascent.  Now that is a purist!  He did get a bus ride to a town for a part to make a bike repair, but before resuming his quest, he insisted on busing back to the spot of the breakdown to ensure that he could truthfully claim no support.  Does that mean he was really the first – and only – one to ever “really” climb the mountain??  Oh, but wait -- he leveraged the mechanical advantage of gears and round wheels, so actually he was still cheating!  Sorry, Goran, only if one walks (or rows!) one’s way to the mountain can it be considered a true climb . . .

To be sure, the modern-day highest standards of climbing are set by the elite climbers -- those gifted, talented, strong, determined, persevering, self-sacrificing, and incredibly hard-working athletes who are able to summit the world’s highest peaks on their own and without relying on supplemental oxygen.   But for those of us average climbers who are unable or unwilling to devote most of our lives to achieve this level of skill and capability, we weekend warriors who aspire to climb Rainier, possibly Denali, and perhaps even dream about tackling an 8000 meter peak someday – should we be denied our mountaineering passion and dreams of attempting difficult and elusive high summits because we are not allowed to mitigate the dangerously-hypoxic elevation with the use of bottled oxygen?  More specifically, should we be prevented from reaching beyond our limits to stretch for the Grand Prize, the mountain with the most allure -- the tallest mountain on the planet – when its famous lofty summit might only be achievable (with a healthy margin of safety) were we to leverage the skill and experience of a professional guide to lead us up the mountain and to use supplemental oxygen?

Certainly those elite climbers who are able to summit in a self-supported manner and without supplemental oxygen have achieved a much more difficult and higher-risk goal and are therefore deserving of far more admiration and praise than do those climbers who achieve the same summit with the help of guides, Sherpa support, and supplemental oxygen.  But I would argue that one doesn’t climb a mountain to gain admiration and praise, but rather for one’s own personal satisfaction, enjoyment, sense of accomplishment, and love for the mountains and for climbing.  For most of us, those are not diminished, but enhanced, when we stretch our limits, even if we must rely on supplemental oxygen or hire an experienced guide.

In his fascinating book Beyond the Mountain, Steve House made a disparaging comment about the “social climbers” that crowd the standard route on Denali.  Sorry Steve, but please don’t disparage the enormous effort required and the incredible sense of accomplishment experienced by those who achieve a Denali summit even by the standard route.  Sure, I recognize that your pioneering, technical first ascents are much more difficult, risky, groundbreaking, and praiseworthy, and deserving of way more respect than the more straightforward climbs on standard routes, of which we average climbers are capable.  But that doesn’t take away from the delight and pride we experience in working to achieve our own personal goals.  During each such climb, we gain more experience and skills, which helps to provide the inspiration and ability to attempt more difficult routes or higher peaks.  I sincerely hope that elite climbers such as House and Gadd aren’t asserting that the use of supplemental oxygen is cheating because they feel that the success achieved by others using a less pure style somehow diminishes their own accomplishments.

I started climbing less than four years ago when I was a few months away from turning 50.  I have since been fortunate to have had excellent mentors from the Colorado Mountain Club who have helped me learn to safely climb technical rock and ice, which has allowed me to experience the joy of climbing routes of various difficulties in the Colorado Rockies.  My foremost goal has been to keep learning and keep pushing my personal boundaries in a sport that I have come to love dearly.  My climbing boundaries have slowly and steadily expanded from Colorado to the Cascades, Peru, Ecuador, and Alaska. I feel that I’m now ready to attempt an 8000m peak while taking an opportunity to explore a corner of the beautiful and remote Himalayan range.

My goal is to climb Cho Oyu, and I have chosen to make the attempt without using supplemental oxygen, not because I think it would be cheating to use supplemental oxygen but because I prefer to tackle the mountain on its own terms, and because I think the risks of climbing up to 27k' can be mitigated through training and by relying on a solid acclimatization program of which I am capable.  However, for most climbers such as myself, climbing in the Himalayas is a once-in-a-lifetime trip to the other side of the globe, which requires the investment of a lot of time and money, so I believe it makes perfect sense to summit with the aid of supplemental oxygen, if one so chooses.   Climbing the world’s highest peaks is a high-risk endeavor that requires dealing with various potentially-lethal hazards:  severe cold, crevasses, steep icy slopes, stormy weather, and an extremely hypoxic environment, which often causes acute mountain sickness, edema, and increased chance of frostbite.  Hiring a guide and/or using supplemental oxygen is a perfectly reasonable way to mitigate the risk of such hazards. 

Nevertheless, everyone must draw a line regarding the acceptability of using various forms of aid.  For example, if the only way I could summit would be to hire a personal assistant (in the form of a high-altitude Sherpa) to carry my gear (or me!) or to short-rope me up or down the mountain, then I would choose not to summit.  At the very least, I want to climb without direct assistance from others.  Does that mean I should not use fixed lines that others set?  While I would prefer to set my own fixed lines, for the sake of time off work and safety, I have chosen to climb with a guiding service and to use their fixed lines (though I hope to assist with their installation).  By using a guiding service, I am accepting assistance, true.  It is not as pure a style, and therefore less praiseworthy, as climbing in a self-supported expedition.  But if I do well at altitude, I hope to learn enough from this trip to make another attempt of an 8000m peak without being fully supported by a guiding service.  Regardless, I would be proud to summit Cho Oyu, even with the assistance of a guiding service.  And, no, it is not cheating!

Here is where I choose to draw the line, with regard to acceptable forms of aid:

• Climbing must be done under one’s own power (to cite an extreme hypothetical example:  helicoptering to the top of Everest certainly doesn’t count!)
• Climbers must minimize impact to the environment, e.g. they must remove all trash, equipment, O2 bottles, fixed ropes, etc.  (On some mountains, climbers are required to evacuate human waste.)
• Meet the mountain on its own terms as much as possible.  Dragging a gas-powered compressor to build a 450-bolt ladder up Cerre Torre, as Cesare Maestri did, for example, is surely a clear case of  “murdering the impossible” (Reinhold Messner's phrase), not to mention the excessive permanent scarring of the rock.   Leave the iconic peaks to more talented free climbers (such as Kennedy, Kruk, and Lama).  However, I personally feel that relying on removable aid or even resorting to placing an occasional hand-drilled bolt is acceptable (yes, it’s a matter of arbitrarily drawing a line).
• Give credit where credit is due!  If you decide to hire a guiding outfit, be sure to recognize the incredible effort, hard work, and often the high risk that the guides and especially the Sherpas take on your behalf to try to get you to the summit.  [Thanks to my friend and sometime climbing partner, LanceC, for reminding me about this critical point.]
• Be strong enough to get down safely.  Work hard (training, planning, practicing skills, etc.) to minimize the probability of requiring a rescue, which endangers the lives of others.

To conclude, another alpinist whom I admire, Phil Powers, has a balanced view to which I subscribe; he wrote recently in The Alpinist ( http://www.alpinist.com/doc/web13w/wfeature-everest-west-ridge ):

Thousands have climbed Everest since 1963. Until the early 1990s, alpinists attempted a wide diversity of routes, looking for harder lines or simpler styles. Reinhold Messner and Peter Habeler reached the summit without supplemental oxygen in 1978. But in 1985—the year that David Breashears guided Dick Bass to the top—there began an inexorable march away from new or difficult routes and from "fair means" ascents without bottled oxygen. Since 2000, the vast majority of expeditions have concentrated on getting paying clients up the easier North or Southeast Ridges. . .

This infrastructure is moving to other 8000-meter peaks. Cho Oyu, Manaslu and now even K2 are guided by teams reliant on supplemental oxygen, fixed lines and high altitude porters. Each person's choice of style is his or her own, a decision that has to do with highly personal variables. Regardless of how we feel about the use of various aids, the people who stand atop these peaks still take each step themselves. We must be clear, however, that individual style choices should not lead to damage to the mountain or to harm to others—including to potential rescuers.

Climb safely!

John Martersteck