Winter Climbing In The White Mountains, Redux

This past weekend, I traveled to New Hampshire’s White Mountains for a little guided winter climbing. (This excursion took place almost exactly a year after my trip last year–which had featured some basic snow and ice skills lessons in bone-chilling cold and a failed summit attempt on Mt. Washington; this time around, my guide was Carolyn Riccardi of Eastern Mountain Sports, who had also guided my family on an outdoor rock climbing trip to the Gunks this past September.) We had planned to do some snow and ice climbing on Mt. Willard and Mt. Webster on Friday and Saturday; the first plan came off, the second was modified. This was my first stab at multi-pitch ice climbing and I thoroughly enjoyed the experience.

On Friday, Carolyn and I met at EMS in North Conway, got our gear together (ice tools, crampons, a climbing rack; I already owned a helmet, harness, and mountaineering boots), and discussed objectives and expectations for the day. Once set, a short drive brought us to Crawford Notch from where our ascent to Mt. Willard began. A short approach hike brought us to the lower section of Hitchcock Gully, which required some moderate snow climbing. From there on, we traversed to the right across some snow covered rock slabs to Left Hand Monkey Wrench for our first ice climb; this was a good learning experience for me (though I didn’t help matters by dropping an ice screw while dismantling an anchor; I had to rappel down to bring it back up, a mortifying experience.) Thereafter, we moved on to The Cleft; the crux move on this involves moving over the Chockstone, a boulder that blocks the slot and presents an interesting obstacle. It took me several tries to get over this and my final move was an undignified one that saw me plant my face right in the snow. Good times. Thereafter, a short climb brought us to the Mt. Willard summit trail from where we made a right to head back to the car. (A short walk would have taken us to the summit, but time was running out–thanks to my learning curve on removing anchors, tying clove-hitch knots etc–so to avoid the dark, we high-tailed it.) All in all, a very satisfying day.

(Below: In Left Hand Monkey Wrench. Photos by Carolyn Riccardi)

On Saturday, we dropped our plans for Mt. Webster and headed instead to the Silver Cascade–a frozen stream bed and falls–for some more ice climbing. The snow here was quite thick, making our movements quite slow at times. Still, the ice climbing was relatively easy and enjoyable. We headed up for a bit, exploring the Cascade’s different features before finally calling it a day and bushwhacking it back down to the road.

Below: Climbing in the Silver Cascade:

I’ve still got a very long way to go on winter climbing; I’m still struggling with moving smoothly and keeping all the various pieces–equipment, clothing, my body–together. Still, it was an amazing experience to be able to make progress on some alpine skills, and I look forward to putting these together on some bigger routes in the future.

Notes On Winter Climbing In The White Mountains – II

Yesterday, I made note here of my activities on the first of a pair of days of guided climbing in New Hampshire’s White Mountains. Our plan for the second day was to try to summit Mt. Washington, a beastly business in the winter. I had hoped a) to become proficient enough in climbing to attempt one of the gullies in either Huntington or Tuckerman Ravines as an ascent route and b) that the avalanche risk in those ravines was low enough to allow us to do so. Neither conditions were realized; I was still far away from being competent enough in climbing to try to do a gully ascent, and moreover avalanche risk ran high in those ravines (the Forest Service assesses the ravines’ conditions and posts updates on their website.) We would stick to the standard Lion’s Head Winter Route.

On Saturday morning, Nick Aiello-Popeo (of Synnott Mountain Guides) and I geared up at the AMC’s Pinkham Notch Visitor Center and set off; the snow lay thick about us, and kept falling lightly. I found the going hard; winter hiking is slow and tedious at the best of times. I was also still coming to grips with the cold-induced clumsiness and stiffness; everything–putting on crampons, changing layers, grabbing a quick snack–was harder to accomplish. Once the Winter Route began, the slope pitched steeply upwards, and some caution, including roping up, was required on a couple of sticky sections.

lionshead1

 

lionshead2

We slowly cleared the treeline, heading for shrubs, which is where we encountered a fierce wind and swirling snow. We pushed on for a while; our steps were slow and labored. The wind–which had been forecast to pick up during the day–was strong enough on occasion to push me back down the slope I was attempting to move up on. I followed Nick, who kept breaking trail, but even his steps were quickly wiped out by the snowdrifts that came cascading down. My goggles were fogging rapidly, and my slightly shortsighted vision meant that I kept misjudging the depth of the snow in front of me. Indeed, the swirling snow and poor visibility meant that at one point, I lost sight of my leader and had to call out to confirm his location. (Thankfully, Nick was only a few meters ahead.) Finally, Nick walked back down the slope, and suggested we call it off; unsurprisingly, I agreed. Conditions were pretty hostile; we were moving too slowly; we ran many risks in pushing on. (Especially as, I suppose, Nick must have reckoned that my inexperience was unlikely to be an asset in pushing on.)

Our return wasn’t much easier; I kept slipping and sliding, finding it hard to internalize the simple lesson to place my cramponed heels first on the downward slopes. At one point, the endlessly patient Nick’s patience ran out, and he suggested I rope up for going down as well. I agreed; I had had my ice axe knocked out of my hands once on one slip, and a repetition would not be pretty. Fortunately for me, my slip-sliding adventures ended quickly thereafter, and we made it down to the end of the trail safely. We had been unsuccessful in making to the summit; a disappointment for sure, but it wasn’t clear to me that I could have pushed on in those conditions. (This photo gives some indication of what it was like in the Dragons’ Lair just below the Lion’s Head; as you can tell, I had my head down as I tried to move on.)

dragonslair

I was cold, exhausted, and sore all over once we had finished; I drove back to my motel, changed out of my wet clothes, stripped off the multiple layers (five on top, three below), and tried to warm up. Four of my fingers and two of my toes still complained about their treatment by the cold; one blister on a finger showed I had acquired a little frost-nip. Sustained further exposure might have made things worse.

All in all, winter climbing was an educational and humbling experience.; I need to be stronger, more practiced, more flexible, mentally more resilient. Like most things pertaining to the mountains, you get your ass kicked, but still harbor a curious desire to repeat the dose. Which I will, soon enough.

Notes On Winter Climbing In The White Mountains – I

Last week, I drove up to New Hampshire–more specifically, to the White Mountains in New Hampshire–to do a little guided climbing. (With the endlessly patient and tremendously knowledgeable Nick Aiello-Popeo of Synnott Mountain Guides in Intervale, NH.) Climbing in the winter is supposed to be hard work; this past weekend turned out to be just that. Friday saw some of the coldest weather of the year as temperatures fell to below zero Fahrenheit; Saturday featured steady snowfall, and then later, up on the higher reaches of Mt. Washington, high winds that eventually forced us back down, aborting our attempt to make it to the summit.

During my drive from Brooklyn to North Conway, NH, on Thursday I sensed, from the falling temperatures during the day, that the guided climbing that lay ahead of me would be good and frigid. My impressions weren’t mistaken; my abiding memory of my time in the White Mountains was the bone-chilling cold. Nick and I spent most of Friday practicing some elementary moves on Willey’s Slide and Frankenstein; on the former cliff, we did some basic ice axe and crampon work, moving up and down a snow and ice slope to get comfortable with controlled moves on those surfaces.

williesslide

I made a small belayed ascent using some front-pointing and low-dagger technique; the slope featured some thin ice over rocks which made this interestingly challenging for a total novice like me. We also spent a lot of time just trying to warm up: windmills galore issued from our freezing bodies. We then changed venues to a): warm up a little by returning to the car and driving to a new location and b) work on a steeper slope to do some ice climbing.

At Frankenstein, Nick set up a bottom belay–anchored to a tree a little way up the slope–and I made two ascents using a pair of ice tools and my crampons. (I rappelled down while being belayed by Nick.)

frankenstein

This was very hard work. I was clumsy and uncoordinated, and frequently slipped. To make things worse, the ice on the rock face was not very thick, making most of ‘sticks’ into the ice of not very good quality. My poor technique didn’t help either as I often forgot to front-point and ended up standing sideways on my boots, which had the bothersome effect of scraping off more ice and snow than was useful for my next move up the face. At one point, I heard Nick reprimand me gently from below, “Ice climbing isn’t a sport in which you can jump or lunge!” I took short breaks to rest and warm up my hands; I was learning in short order just how hard swinging an ice-tool can be when your hands are frozen. (Nick also provided a couple of quick lessons in ice anchoring; I continued to marvel at the amount of gear he carried, and how deftly he was able to manipulate it all while wearing heavy mittens in the freezing cold.)

Finally, with the light starting to fade, we packed up our gear and headed back to the warmth of the car. I headed back to my motel to get some sleep and rest before trying our ascent of Mt. Washington on Saturday. A report on that failed attempt follows tomorrow.