Jeremy and I trained for months in a rock climbing gym for ice climbing in Ouray, CO. Because of my motorcycle accident, I even climbed for a while in a full-leg brace. While some of those skills translated to the ice, we learned we hadn’t trained our calf muscles. Turns out, you use those a lot when your points are in the ice. Haha.
I’ve climbed ice faces and frozen waterfalls on three continents but only in daylight. Thanks to San Juan Mountain Guides, LLC, I got to try headlamp ice climbing at Portland Falls with my friend, Jeremy.
Jeremy recorded video from a bridge next to the falls. Unlike the next backcountry falls, we parked maybe 100 feet from the ice face. So, we were able to jump right on the ice without needing to catch our breath.
These laps proved the easiest of anything we tried all weekend, but the darkness made them my favorite sends from our time in Ouray.
We could hear the water matriculating through the soft ice to the frozen creek at the base of our climb. Our gracious guide, Stephen, lowered us down and then belayed our ascents from the top. The headlamp focused our attention on just the next actions.
Jeremy preferred the rigorous mixed climbing (climbing on both rock and ice with your crampons and ice tools) and the stout backcountry falls. He got up super early to allow me to chase this weird goal I had of climbing in the dark. Such an amazing experience! You can watch the video of this climb here.
Our guides in both the Ouray Ice Park and the backcountry falls used bright pink ropes. It made them easy to find on the snow.
If you look closely, you can see Jeremy climbing in the
Ouray Ice Park as we did practice runs for our backcountry climbs the next day. We’d spent so much time at
Rise Up Climbing before this trip. We felt as prepared as we could be. Alas, it turns out that indoor rock climbing didn’t prepare our calves for the incredible workout that is ice climbing.
A failure of fitness led to me spending a long, cold morning here at the base of Pony Up Falls in Our, CO. We’d hiked down into a gorge and back up to this perch below the ice-climbing route. My friend, Jeremy, and I determined I wouldn’t physically be able to complete the challenging 3-pitch climb with him and our guide. So, I pulled out the avalanche shovel, dug out a ledge, tamped it down with my feet, and watched Sarah Manwarren‘s baptism on Blue Ridge Community Church’s live stream. I cried in those goggles with joy. Sarah had worked hard to help Crystal George and I adopt our daughter. As Sarah told her story, I was struck by the serendipity of Sovereignty.
Jeremy belayed our guide as he set the initial anchors via lead climbing. Jeremy and I were both impressed by our guide’s prowess and finesse. The backdrop for this effort collapsed me to my knees in awe. It didn’t look real, even though the shards of ice crackling down on and around us reminded us that it was all very real.
The guide snapped this picture of Jeremy along their way to the top of this tall, frozen waterfall. When Jeremy returned to where I was waiting, he told me it took everything he had to top out this stout climb. He had to unscrew the guide’s anchors as he got to each one and then clip them to his harness to give to the guide at the top of each pitch. Then our guide would lead climb the next section with Jeremy belaying. And the process would repeat. Jeremy handled it all with determination, and steady, deliberate movements.
This was the last I saw Jeremy for more than an hour. He disappeared over this ledge. I could hear the crunching and crackling and other punctuations of ice tools, toe picks, and loose ice falling. I kept my helmet on my head and stayed back behind this rock ledge to protect myself from surprise flotsam and jetsam of the frozen variety. You can see a short video demonstration of this here.
