By this time, Mike and I were accustomed to early mornings. We had about 5 to 6 hours of sleep the night before and I would have liked more, but it's hard to fall asleep early enough when you are waking up at 2 am. While driving to the trail head from our hotel in Jackson, we were the only car on the road. The moon was bright and we could see the towering silhouettes of the range as we silently rode to the parking lot. There we found three other climbers preparing to make their ascent. I guess we got here at the right time, I thought as we prepared our packs. Because we left the rope and protection in a bear box at the lower saddle, our packs would be very light for the first 7 miles of the climb.
As we set up off from the trailhead (6732 ft), we met Mandy, a middle-aged woman from Salt Lake City who had gone to school at the University of Florida. We followed her up the trail at a blistering pace, sucking air and trying to hold some sort of conversation. At one point I had to stop and get some water and I told Mike I needed to slow down. My knee was giving me a few problems and I didn't want to hurt it so soon in our climb. Mandy hiked on but we had learned some valuable information about the routes up the mountain from her.
Alpenglow on the Middle Teton. Beautiful weather for a summit day!
For the past few days we had been discussing our exact route up the technical part of the Grand Teton. The two routes that we were trying to decide between were the Owen-Spalding and Upper Exum routes. The Owen Spalding was the standard and easiest route up the Grand but it could be icy and cold so early in the morning. However, it was easy to bail in bad weather and it had less sustained technical climbing so we thought it would be a good option. The Upper Exum has the same approach as the Owen Spalding, but after a detour east to the ridge, you were looking at 1500 feet of sustained, albeit easy, climbing. The Upper Exum was took much more time to climb and required more roped pitches (a section of vertical climbing usually between 60 and 120 ft). Mike and I were fairly new to this style of alpine climbing and we didn't want to risk not making the summit. After talking to Mandy though, we changed our mind. She had been on the Upper Exum several times and she assured us it would be a better option than the Owen Spalding.
Climbing the Lower Saddle one last time.
This part of the trail was very familiar to us now since we had climbed it once before. The amount of snow that was in Garnet Canyon at the beginning of the trip had decreased significantly and we could now hike to the Lower Saddle (11,650) without stepping on much snow. Because we were used to the altitude, had light packs, and were familiar with the route, we made it to the lower saddle at 7 am, only 4 hours after we left the trail head. Although we had already climbed 4900 feet over 7 miles, we knew the hardest part of the climb laid before us so after putting on our harnesses and packing our rope, we headed up towards the Upper Saddle on the Grand Teton.
At the Lower Saddle we had examined our route and decided that our ice axes were just extra weight and not needed so we decided to leave them in the bear box. Now, climbing across to the ridge, we realized we made a very novice mistake. There were several steep snow fields to cross and they had unpleasant run outs.
One of the sketchy snow fields we crossed.
We had already hiked an hour or more up some exhausting terrain and we were not turning back. Luckily, we followed in some previous climber's footsteps and scampered across the snow as quickly as was safe. We used the holes the ice axes had left to give us some security but we knew it was mostly psychological; if we slipped, we were sliding very quickly towards some large rocks far below us. I swore from then on if there was the possibility of any snow on a route, I would always have my ice axe.
Class 3/4 climbing requires a lot of route finding.
Up until the Exum Ridge, we had been on class 3 and class 4 rock. This is essentially easy climbing that does not usually require a rope, although the exposure is sometimes dizzying. This kind of climbing is like a puzzle; there are many routes, but you have to find the easiest one. Now, as we neared the ridge, we roped up and created an anchor to move out on our first class 5 move. To get on the route we had to climb over a gap that had nothing but 1000 feet of air under us, and just an inch or two of rock place my boot on. The vertigo was incredible and even though it was not a difficult move, it got my blood racing.
The rush of the climb was only amplified that we were now on the Exum Ridge. The sun shone bright on a cloudless day and the chilly wind that had been mildly uncomfortable a few seconds before was now conspicuously absent, leaving a silent and peaceful view that made me laugh with excitement. Continuing up the "Golden Staircase" was magnificent climbing on solid rock with plenty of places to place solid protection.
Mike basking in the warm sun as I stop mid pitch to snap a photo. The North Fork of Garnet Canyon and the Middle Teton Glacier is below.
Most of the ridge was very steep class 4 climbing so, in the interest of saving time, we took some chest coils with about 15 feet of rope in between us and climbed at the same time. The route finding was fun, but not overly challenging and the views were stunning. Before long, we had climbed above every surrounding peak.
Mike adding some chest coils above Middle Teton in the background. If you look hard you can see the park service huts on the Lower Saddle,some 1500 ft below.
On the entire 1500 ft Exum Ridge, we had about 500 ft of belayed pitches (meaning one person climbed and placed protection while the other prepared to catch a fall). Mike and I often traded off leads though towards the end, Mike had switched over to rock shoes (his sneakers were not quite sticky enough) and he led the Friction Pitch, which was the crux (most difficult part) of the climb. Even though we were making steady progress, we never seemed to reach the summit. Finally after climbing the V-pitch (our last roped pitch) and crossing a couple more sketchy snow fields (how I missed my ice axe), we climbed atop the last few boulders that formed the summit.
Mike, leading the V-Pitch. This pitch is visible near the top of the Exum Route in the picture below.
It was 3:30pm and we had been climbing for over 12 hours We were exhausted and happy, but we knew that the climb was only half-way over. As I tried to take some pictures of the stunning 360 degree view, Mike's little point-and-shoot I was using shut off. Dead battery. I suppose I didn't mind too much. Mike was taking some awesome pictures with his DSLR and even though I knew it would be awhile before we saw any of them, I knew when they did come, they would be worth the wait. At 4 o'clock we left the summit, picking our way down the Owen Spalding route (the normal descent route). A few large rappels brought us down to the Upper Saddle and we spend the next couple hours picking our way down the gully. As often as possible we would throw our rope around a horn of rock and rappel, pulling the rope down after us. We had reached the Lower Saddle around 7 pm and we were happy to be off the most technical rock and back on familiar routes. We reached the actual trail before dark, but we did not reach the car until 11 pm, 20 hours after leaving it that morning.
Although I would never climb the Grand in such a fashion again, I am very proud to have done it that way and I learned a lot about my own limits. It was some of the most incredible climbing I have ever done and I can't wait to go back and climb more routes, just not in such a long day. My first technical, alpine route had me hooked and I knew that I wanted to do more of the same. I just wondered if any other routes could ever compare to this world-renown classic.
"Mountains are not Stadiums where I satisfy my ambition to achieve, they are the cathedrals where I practice my religion."
- Anatoli Boukreev
Waking up to music is an emotional experience. If you were expecting it and selecting the music yourself, it might be pleasant. If it is coming from a vehicle parked across the campsite at 7 in the morning, when you just climbed into your sleeping bag a few hours before, well - there are few things which can provoke more wrath. There was something soothing about what I was hearing, however. The soft finger picking and harmonizing voices prompted visions of expansive landscapes and the silhouette of a cowboy directing his stock into the fading dusk. "I guess we are really in Wyoming now." I said dryly, through a still-sleepy smirk. Mike muttered an expletive. I guess we can't all be morning people.
The sun shone bright through the white fabric of our rainfly-less tent, refracted through millions of ice crystals which were quickly melting and sending cold drops of water onto unsuspecting faces. It was chilly, but warming up fast. I poked my head into the bright morning air and took the first inventory of our campsite which we had only seen by headlight the night before. Tall, thin pine trees stood grouped in thick groves, divided by meadows filled with colorful wildflowers. A river bent between the banks below, the same bright blue as the sky above. The music was coming from a red Ford Explorer parked near a tarp shelter. A tall man with a white beard and a cowboy hat stood next to the vehicle looking my way. "Would you like some coffee?" he shouted. I figured it was the least he could do after waking us up so I happily agreed. "Odysseus." he introduced himself in the same booming voice. A few minutes later, after Alden and Mike had drug themselves out of the tent, we stood overlooking the river, sipping coffee. Odysseus was retired and he would travel from place to place and set up camp for a week or so. This particular campsite was a bit too close to the road for his liking, but he didn't mind much. Fortunately it was just what we needed to get up and get the day started and so after a few minutes of discussion, we thanked our host, packed our tent, and set off for the day (but not before asking who was playing when we woke up, he said he usually plays AC/DC but he though Chris and Thomas might be a bit more considerate).
The winding road ahead of us brought us through exposed cliffs and green meadows surrounded by evergreens, across the Snake River and to the town of Jackson, WY. Jackson was a quaint town, with some traffic problems caused by extensive road work. It was quickly in our rear view, however, as we quickly headed off down the last stretch road separating us from the Tetons. The view sneaks up on you. Cresting a hill, the entire range lays upon the horizon, granite spires piercing the sky, snow clinging to the airy pinnacles.
The Teton Range from the North. We actually approached the park from the South, but the view was much the same.
Magnificent does not even begin to describe the mountains, just as a picture could never express the scale. The escarpment towered over us for most of the drive through the long, flat valley of Jackson Hole, demanding our undivided attention. I was glad I was not driving because I couldn't take my eyes off the peaks above. We pulled into the busy Jenny Lake Visitor Center and made the proper arrangements with the climbing rangers for our permit. The rangers were very helpful and friendly. I have climbed in the past where rangers will act very condescendingly, trying to discourage a climb, but this was not the case with the Jenny Lake rangers.
We made it to the trail after 1pm, but we had to pack our bags for the several days ahead of us. We wanted to camp high and climb both Middle and Grand Teton over the course of a few days, so we had plenty of gear. After about an hour of tactical packing, we hefted our 50+ pound packs onto our shoulders and headed up the trail.
The beginning of the trail meandered through large stands of pines and other evergreens with the occasional alpine meadow. From the parking lot at 6700 ft, we climbed steadily, but slowly. We were not in any particular rush, but as the day passed we started to get a bit more used to the hiking. The views of the valley were nice, but they did not compare to our first view up Garnet Canyon.
Nez Perce and Middle Teton from the bottom of Garnet Canyon.
The mountains towered over us, reaching thousands of feet into the sky. On the right of the trail, the south wall of Disappointment Peak was 1000 feet straight up. You had to strain your neck to see the top of the ridge. The trail climbed further into Garnet Canyon finally terminating just under 9000 feet at the Platforms, which is the first camping spot in the canyon. The next mile was a scramble through a boulder field, which would not have been particularly difficult if it were not for the 50 pounds on our backs. The daylight was fading fast and we had only just reached the meadows. At this point the canyon was starting to become rather clogged with snow and so we took out our ice axes to to give us some extra security.
We climbed up a snow-filled couloir just above the meadows that was respectably steep. The late day snow had become soft and unsteady and it took several kicks to achieve a reliable step. Mike was slipping around and it was rather comical to me at the time. Alden had been following quietly behind us but a frantic shout caused both Mike and I to look back. Only about 10 feet below where I stood, Alden had lost her footing and had began to slide down the steep snow. She had trouble getting her ice axe in proper position and once she did get the pick in the snow, she was moving too fast and the snow was too soft to slow her down. "Shit," Mike muttered as she crashed into the rocks, about 80 feet below. I silently watched, praying that she wouldn't keep tumbling down the rest of the slope. She rolled a few time across the rocks at the bottom and came to an awkward stop maybe 15 feet off the snow.
Without a word I hopped into a slide down the couloir, directly towards where Alden had come to a stop. I quickly picked up speed so I rolled on my stomach to use my ice axe as a brake. It took a great deal of effort to slow down, but I wanted to get down fast anyway. When I reached the bottom a second later I threw off my pack, and ran to Alden's side. She had landed in an awkward position sitting on one of her legs. Her knees and arms were covered in dirt and blood. I made sure she didn't have any numbness or back and neck pain before I removed her pack and helped her get into a more comfortable position. She was crying and shivering so I grabbed my down jacket and tried to warm her up. She told me she didn't think anything in her legs were broken but her left forearm looked the worst. Several deep gashes sat over swollen deformities that I was hoping were not breaks. I threw a quick bandage over her arm so that it didn't stick to my jacket. By this time Mike had picked his way to the bottom of the slope, after combing it for the trekking poles and camera gear that had come loose during the fall. A considerate couple down in the meadows had also come to our assistance after seeing Alden's fall. They grabbed our packs while I helped Alden down to our newly-decided-on campsite.
At the bottom, Mike set up our tent while I cleaned and bandaged some of Alden's injuries. Her leg injuries were superficial, but I was worried about her left arm, which hurt to move. Over dinner we weighed our options and decided on a plan. I fell asleep quickly that night, but I couldn't help wondering what would come of our journey.
The next morning I left early to go down to the vehicle and grab a couple of book for Alden to read while Mike and I made our summit attempt. The hike down to the car went by fast and I renewed our permit at the ranger station and told them what happened. The hike back up the trail was completely different without a heavy pack. I made the hike back to our camp in just over 2 hours - 4 hours less than in had taken the day before. Mike had been practicing his self-arresting techniques on a nearby snow field and Alden was alright, but she was starting to feel more pain in her shoulder. I suspected she might have fractured her collarbone, but she didn't particularly want to hike out yet and I hoped she would start to feel better. The rest of the day was lazy and I napped for a few hours. Afternoon showers pushed us inside the tent but we hoped that the next day would be better weather.
Climbing the head wall to the lower saddle on steep snow. (Yes, we slid down that)
It wasn't.
After a night of rain, Mike and I got up at 4am and started our climb up to the lower saddle at 11,650 ft. The weather was miserable. Fog hid the peaks and wind-blown sleet stung our faces. I knew we had nothing left to do for the day, so we decided to head up to the lower saddle anyway, just for kicks. The head wall leading to the lower saddle was the steepest snow we had climbed so far. Angles as high as 65 degrees pulled us towards the run out below which was, thankfully, free of rocks and didn't terminate at the edge of a cliff. At the top we found Ranger Jack, the same ranger who had written our permit, huddled in his North Face tent, cradling his radio. "I'm surprised anyone came up in this!" he shouted from his tent. He was going to start setting up the summer park hut, but bad weather had foiled those plans. Heading back, we chose to glissade down the head wall which essentially involved getting on an icy slide that drops you for 300 feet before you come to a stop. Sitting down and starting was absolutely terrifying but at the bottom I was laughing uncontrollably. The slide had made the entire climb worth it and Mike and I were ecstatic as we made our way to the camp.
Mike, along the skirt of the Middle Teton Glacier. The picture still does not show the thousands of feet of mountain above him.
Unfortunately, the next day was still not good enough to climb. High winds and poor visibility created conditions that would have been too dangerous and I really didn't want to die. We hiked to the lower saddle again nonetheless, and heard from Jack that the weather for the next couple of days would be perfect. Unfortunately, our permit was out and Alden was in an increasing amount of pain from her shoulder so we really needed to get home. Then we had an idea. After running it by Ranger Jack we left all of our heavy technical gear in one of the bear boxes at the lower saddle. We would come back on a day hike and make better time if we did not have to carry up the rope and protection. It would also leave us more room in our backpacks to carry out some of Alden's gear because there would be no way she could carry a full backpack.
Near the campsite we passed a skier who was heading up Middle Teton to do some runs. About 20 minutes later a massive rock slide smashed down from Nez Perce into the couloir where he was walking. Dust and boulders soared high into the air, and the it sounded as if a thunderstorm was raging next door. After we made sure we would be safe, Mike grabbed his ice axe and we both started heading for where we last saw the skier. At a small overlook we spotted him, not far from the slide, but walking in the opposite direction. He found us back at camp. "If I had been 15 minutes faster I would have been right under that," he said, a dazed look in his eye. As we prepared to leave camp, it almost felt like the mountain was laughing at us. One of our party was injured, our most diligent attempts to climb had been foiled, and a fellow climber had nearly been killed under rockfall. We would be back to climb these peaks, but I had no illusion that the mountain would have no sympathy for our goals.
The scramble was the worst part for Alden and I discovered that my hip belt had failed and so I rigged up a solution with some paracord so I did not have the full 50 lbs on my shoulders. The hike down was steep but short, and it was over quickly. Soon we were at the car. After going the the emergency room and getting x-rays for Alden, we drove to a campsite along Jackson Lake and spent the night. We decided that the next day we would visit an orthopedist, get some rest and then make our final attempt on Grand Teton.
I arrived in Chattanooga on the 19th, just in time to catch the end of my nephew's baseball game. The weather was perfect and the 4 hour drive through the bright green, rolling Tennessee mountains was made even more enjoyable with the windows rolled down and the music turned up. Chattanooga was where my path crossed with Alden and we would be taking her car on the remaining journey. We wouldn't leave until the next morning, however, and the evening was spent with family and more than a few visitors from my brother's church. That evening, my nephew, Caleb and I spent the night in our 4-season tent in his backyard. He had a great time and in the morning we were packed and on the road a little after 10 am.
Before we left, we stopped by a Guitar Center and I sold some musical equipment that I had wanted to get rid of. We also met JB, the guy who contacted me about my rideshare post on Craigslist. He would be riding with us all the way to Denver, returning home after attending the music festival Bonaroo. He was a pleasant man and he slept at least 90% of the trip.
The route we were taking to Denver was over 22 hours and we were driving it in a straight shot. In Missouri, we briefly said hello to Anna and had an amazing dinner with Liana, who I had met at school in San Diego. We ate at an authentic German restaurant/bar and the schnitzel was delicious. It was a good break after 9 hours on the road, but we still had the longest leg before us. Alden had a BMW 5-series and the ride was smooth. I took over driving near midnight and drove the empty highways of Missouri and Kansas until the morning. We made good time on the empty roads and we were in Denver by mid-morning.
Garden of the Gods, Photo Credit: Alden King
After dropping JB off and making a quick stop at REI, we drove south to meet Mike in Colorado Springs, his ultimate hitchhiking destination. While we waited for him, Alden and I visited The Garden of the Gods. This free park right outside of Colorado Springs featured towering, red sandstone spires hundreds of feet high. The park was a popular climbing location and the only thing stopping us from climbing it right then was our lack of time and the fact that it was over 100 degrees outside. We picked up shortly after noon and headed north to Boulder where we were meeting a former University of Florida student, Rachel. She had some friends going on a rafting trip and had invited us along. After meeting in Boulder we drove nearly two more hours to a campsite on the Poudre River (pronounced poo-der).
I don't know if you have been keeping track of the hours, but 22 to Denver, plus 5 more driving between Denver, Colorado Springs and the Poudre meant we had been driving over 27 hours straight. Needless to say, as soon as dinner was over, I was fast asleep in our tent.
In the morning we ate a scrumptious breakfast of eggs, bacon, and grits and loaded up the trucks. We; Mike, Alden, Rachel and I, would be the first group down the river. Our guide, Ryan, had guided in Oregon, but had never been down the Poudre. Jesse, another guide who had been down before, was kayaking alongside us and giving us directions. It was a warm, cloudy day with bright sun intermittently disrupted by a passing cloud. The beginning of the river was rather tame. A few decent rapids got us sufficiently wet and since the river was swollen with snowmelt, it was quite cold in the shade. The scenery was well worth the chill, however. The canyon was steep and rocky with huge spires that looked perfect for climbing. Brown rock and evidence of forest fires gave it a desolate feeling. Soon, however, things started to get a bit hairy. Our kayaker had to make a wet exit and the river was quickly becoming technical and rocky. At one point our guide was ejected from the raft while he was standing to get a better look at the oncoming rapids. Alden was also knocked out of the boat but a well placed leg kept her anchored in until we could pull the rest of her body back to safety.
Photo Credit: Mike Davlantes
Not long after that, I noticed that Jesse had once again been forced to wet exit, this time in the middle of a serious rapid. I shouted to Ryan that we had a swimmer. Our boat furiously paddled towards an eddy halfway down the rapid that was not as calm as we hoped. While Ryan tossed Jesse the throw bag, I held on to two large branches anchored to the riverbank. The current was still strong though and because of the heavy boat, it took a great deal of effort to hold the boat still. Everyone who was near a branch also grabbed on and I hooked my calves over the baffle in the middle of the raft. Eventually, Jesse was forced to let go of the line but he quickly found a calm area so we were able to paddle over and pick him up. He had lost his boat and paddle and was very frustrated. Luckily, we found his boat further down the river, but the missing paddle would never turn back up. The situation did not improve much after that, either. Many large rocks were just hidden well enough that the next time Ryan stood up to review the river, he was launched over our heads. I quickly grabbed his extended paddle and yanked him in the boat amidst the white, frothy spray of churning rapids. The unpredictability and technical nature of the river made the trip very intense. We had little idea what was coming next so we were all on our toes expecting the worst. Finally we reached the crux of the river, a class IV - V required us to scout the rapid and plan our line. To our surprise, the rapid was uneventful, other than the big hole that folded our boat in half. After that we took out at the next boat landing and we were soon heading back to camp.
Big hit on the Poudre!
After a quick rest, we packed up our camp, said our goodbyes, and headed off towards Wyoming. It was mid-afternoon and we had a 10-hour drive ahead of us. The vast expanse of Southern Wyoming laid before us and we reached the pine forest of the Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem in the dark. The shadows of steep, massive peaks towered over us in stark contrast to the plains we had just driven through. We found a campsite some time around midnight, down a gravel road, nestled in Bridger-Teton National Forest. The night was cold and we pitched our tent quickly, knowing we had an early day. With the morning sun would come our first visions of the Tetons, and I was eager to behold the mountains I had so long desired to see.
But I'm not leaving on a jet plane, I could never afford the baggage fees! As you can see below, my basement is currently awash with all kinds of gear, coming in two distinct varieties: basic camping/hiking gear and technical climbing gear.
Under normal backpacking conditions, I can often keep my backpack well under 35 pounds (~15 kgs) and sometimes less than 30 (13 kgs). I enjoy hikes much more when I am not exhausted from carrying huge loads up steep terrain. A climbing expedition stomps on my dreams of sub-35 lb packs and grinds them into the dirt with a big smile on its face. To begin with, we are bringing a heavier 4-season tent that can withstand the higher winds and lower temperatures of high altitude (it's a roomy 2-person tent that we might be squeezing 3 people into, not sure at the moment). Add this to the fact that we are bringing extra food and fuel because we will be staying multiple nights at our base camp and I am looking at more than 35 lbs before we even add up the climbing gear. The climbing gear is heavy, but it is divided between our group (as the tent would be also). Nonetheless, we are still looking at ~8.5 lbs for the rope, ~5 lbs for protection (stoppers, nuts, cams ect.), and then personal technical gear, such as crampons, ice axes, harnesses and helmets. All of this adds up quickly and we are easily looking at 50+ lb packs. Luckily we are only carrying this up ~4500ft of elevation the first day, where we will make our base camp. That's lucky, right?
One of the reasons we are taking so much gear is the variety of terrain and conditions we are expecting to face while in the mountains. It is early in the season for such a trip so we are expecting snow and ice, but there will also be exposed rock that might require rock shoes. The weather will also vary from 70 degrees Fahrenheit in the valley to well below freezing at our camps so we need the warm weather clothes to deal with such things. There is no way around it, we will be moving slow to our first camp.
In the mean time, the drive to Jackson, Wyoming will be nice. I've always loved road trips, even though this one is a 30 hour haul from Chattanooga.On the way we will be seeing family and friends and the freedom and anticipation of the open road only sweetens the deal.
Planning a trip is sort of like exploring from inside. The internet is full of pictures and stories of far away places that cause one's heart to begin racing. For a long time, the lure of the mountains has inspired my travels; from the winter climbs in Colorado's Rockies, to week long expeditions among the mighty Andes in South America. I've spent hours browsing Google Maps and clicking through picture after picture on Summitpost.com, slowly forming distant plans in my head.
This trip to Wyoming is no exception. When I first heard that my good friend and climbing partner, Mike, was going to be in Wyoming without me, I knew that wouldn't do. Along the western edge of the state, the Teton range reins over Jackson Hole Valley, rising over 7000 ft over the land below. At 13,775 ft, Grand Teton is one of a few ultra-prominent peaks in the U.S. and the namesake of Grand Teton National Park. This park has been at the top of my list for some time and I knew that I wanted to join Mike and see this famous mountain range.
The logistics of a trip have several determining factors, the most important one being: what are we going to do? A backpacking trip would take the least amount of gear, I could probably hitchhike to Jackson with just a backpack. Maybe we wanted to do a bicycle tour and rent bikes? But what about climbing? Mike and I have trekked far higher during our trips to the Andes and we have been avid rock climbers for years, however, we had never combined the two. An alpine climb requires a massive amount of knowledge of many topics. From knowing how to predict the weather to to properly using an ice axe, many of these were skills that Mike and I had learned over the years. But most of all, we learned how to do more with less. At one point or another we would find ourselves on steep, technical terrain with no ropes. We have climbed this way many times, for the simple reasons that we could either not afford the gear, or it was too heavy to carry the way we were traveling. The gear needed to climb true technical routes would cost around $2000, brand new. Luckily, for this trip, we were able to afford some essentials, and borrow the rest. Currently we have one other person who is coming along, although we would like to round it out at four. Alden will need some crampon and ice axe instruction, but she it proficient with ropes and comfortable around heights.
With the resources for a proper alpine climb, I started to research routes. Grand Teton was foremost on my list for obvious reasons. But not only was it the highest and best known peak, it also had a very manageable route. The Owen-Spalding route is rated a paltry 5.4, and if it were not for the magnitude of the distances and the sheer exposure, it would not offer us much of a challenge at all. However, at such an altitude, I was not worried about not being challenged enough. The early season conditions would still be icy in spots, requiring some low grade, mixed climbing and the route finding would still be challenging. There was one downside to such a famous peak. Crowds. The Owen-Spalding route is one of the most popular routes up a popular mountain. A climb so early in the season would of course make it better, but we are not expecting an isolated trip.
This was when I stumbled across the Wind River Range.
A mere 3 hours from Jackson, WY, the Winds have a reputation of world class mountaineering in an isolated area that sees far fewer people than the Tetons. I was shocked that I had never heard of these mountains before as I read about the unspoiled beauty. Within this mighty range is Gannet Peak, the highest point in Wyoming at 13,804 ft. This 40+ mile trek would include glacier crossings and true expeditionary travel and it quickly made it's way onto my list.
The best part about our style of travel is that all of these plans are tentative. If we find something we want to do more, plans can change. The beauty of being flexible means we always have a good time, not matter how plans change. Generally, I fill my head with as many possibilities as I can, so we always have a plan b.
All this gear is another matter. I'm sure glad we are driving and I don't have to haul this around an airport.
