Mountains Feel No Sympathy

"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.