Category Archives: Journal Entries

Faces of the Ice

by Ryan McElroy ’16

“ICE!” Zach’s voice echoes through the falling snow from above, louder than the wind whipping through the surrounding spruce and the trucks passing by on route 73 far below. It cuts across the frozen Chapel Pond, which I had just crossed less than an hour ago. I hear it, but nothing registers in my brain. My gaze is ever upwards, neck craning to spot the orange blob that marked the other end of my rope. Just barely making out the moving speck of a man, my eyes shift focus to the dancing shapes falling from the sky. Like pieces of glass, these shards spin and flip, clatter and sing, bounce down, down, down… Oh shit. That’s what he meant – I suddenly drop my head and curl inwards after being struck by a flying slab. No way I’m forgetting that one! Now I know: ice is the name of the game. This season’s first day of climbing was off to a slippery start.

——–

I guess I should have had some idea of what I was getting myself into when I emailed Zach (‘14.5) over winter break just to see if by any chance he knew how I could get a hold of some boots and crampons. I wanted to make the best of what was forecast to be miserable skiing weather in Vermont. Maybe I would head out to the glistening ice. I had only been twice the previous winter. Derek Doucet, the college’s outdoor programs director, and Scott Barnicle, a student dean had taken me. And now Zach was down for more. “How about Tuesday when we get back?” Great! But why are these guys so willing?

Last year, Zach Perzan hired me to work at the school’s climbing wall. I had met Zach early my freshman year at a Geology Department pizza lunch. His large shoulders and burley frame were softened by his calm voice and dimpled smile. We soon became friends, and I learned he was one the most patient teachers I’ve ever had. He could have been in his thirties, speaking so eloquently, knowing so much, and climbing so well. Yet, he was only a year older than me. The story he told me on the way to the ice, the one about fishing for crawdads, keeping them in his apartment sink, and coming home to find one on the carpet, pincers raised, looking up at him, reminds me he’s not all grown up. He’s still a kid just like me.

——–

Or maybe not. I feel like a modified kid. Like a kid who lost his essential fearlessness. Now, taking that first step is the hardest. Putting off an assignment, postponing a phone call, or stumbling to let someone know how you truly feel about them – it’s always so damn scary. Zach continues ascending, now beyond my line of sight. And then there are those other fears. Smashing in my teeth. Eyeballs. Wolves. Abandonment. Addiction. Living an incomplete life. The list lengthens at a frightening pace while I stand belaying Zach at Crystal Ice Tower. He’s gotta be there soon. The anxiety is closer to freezing me than the single digit temperatures. I wait and wait.

“Ryan, off belay!” That’s my signal. He’s made it up. It’s all me now. If I can just manage to breathe… Here goes.

My mind is blank. I reach. Swing. Swing. Step. I’m up. Steel robo-talons pierce the ice and miraculously hold me. Swing right. Check the feet. Packs look like dots below. Kick. Test weight. Breathe. Swing left. Shattered ice. Swing again. Dinner plates. Swing and… perfect. Hero Ice. You can’t plan for it, but when you sink it, there is nothing better.

——–

In the car on the way out, Zach prepped me on basic ice science. We search for that “plastic-y, ductile ice.” It’s an ice climber’s nirvana. Forever swingin, listening, feeling, but rarely attaining. Most of the time it’s too brittle or too wet.

The variability of each flow excites Zach. Even if he’s been to a spot already, “it will always be different.” Getting out to new ice each time is crucial to keeping it exciting. Keeping a keen eye on the weather and on sites like NEice.com is key.

Zach began swinging tools in high school. He was fortunate to have a few generous teachers who took him out and taught him the basics. His technique improved over multiple trips to Kinsman Notch in New Hampshire. Soon, he and his mentors, were confident in his ability to lead routes, placing all his own protection as he climbed first from the bottom. He still keeps in touch with the guys who shared it with him. And now he passes on his passion, glad to have better access to Vermont and New York ice than he did when he was living in Boston.

——–

Our day out ended just as it began: dark skies, temperatures just pushing double digits, and turkey sandwiches on my mind. But my body ached more than it did at 6:25 am. That’s for darn sure. “Classic rookie mistakes,” Zach explained on the drive home from a full day in the Adirondacks. “You gotta have your systems, man. At least two sandwiches. Make ‘em before breakfast. Three gloves. Each with a purpose. Oh yeah, and you can’t leave your boots in the trunk – there’s no heat back there!” I certainly made the mistakes, and my lack of systems was laughable, yet I had managed to keep my feet nice and toasty. I brought my boots with me in the front seat. At least I had that going for me.

••

I feel fortunate to have been so warmly welcomed into a community of ice climbers. Reflecting on my time, I catch glimpses of an unwritten future. Perhaps it will involve ice flows, mountaineering trips out west, and laughing off the dark times, as my mentors have done before me? Is this my future?

Possibly. Possibly not. I will forever be awe of the extreme. Rigid peaks, ancient rock, gnarled trees, and violent storms – they captivate me. But the people testing themselves out there are even more interesting. Their pushing of physical, mental, and emotional limits fascinates me. Why do they do it? What is the point? Should I bother trying? Are they worthy role models? As long as I continue to meet these people and seek answers to these questions, it’s likely my story will read similar to those of the mentors I’ve met. But nothing is written in stone. I proceed with caution as on ice, aware that my words may melt, freeze, flow, or shatter at any moment.

(an excerpt, read the full piece here:  http://sites.middlebury.edu/adventure2015/student-work/ryan-mcelroy/ )

No wonder they call it the great one.

by Emma Erwin ‘15.5

June 19th

So tired again & my feet have disintegrated. The inside arches, heels, and toes are all rubbed completely raw. They’re pretty grumpy. Another big night, but not too terribly long. We went back through the lower icefall to the cache and brought it up past the hill of cracks to below the great icefall. Snow/ice conditions were pretty stellar so much less sketchy than yesterday. The hill of cracks lives up to its name for sure: a solid running jump to catapult your body over is required to get past a least a dozen of the crevasses. Not too bad with solid snow, but I’m guessing it gets pretty sketchy when the snow is a little softer (which usually happens around 7am)—luckily we made it through just before then. It’s awesome hiking at night thought – better snow, cooler temperatures, no need to worry about sunburns, and the sky is in a constant state of sunset/sunrise.
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June 24th:

Feels like Denali weather now. Cloudy at 3AM when we woke up, and now it’s pretty much whiteout with a decent amount of snowfall and winds. Getting back down the ridge to pick up the cache was actually really fun. The vertical climb down and back up is my favorite. Going back up along the ridge was pretty gnarly though. Plenty of fresh powder render crampons useless, high winds, and next to zero visibility.. plus you can’t hear anything. It wasn’t too bad until I got to a part where I wasn’t clipped into protection and the tracks were completely blown out and it was super steep and powdery and I couldn’t get a good grip on the edge of my crampons or ice ax at all.. So that was pretty scary. But I weaseled my way up and through that one and finally made it back to camp.

June 25th:

Today was quite a day. You have to be completely focused & on your a-game every single step. Cause if you take a misstep and a big fall we’re all dead.

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July 3rd: Summit Day

We made it! The view from on top was unreal and almost everyone shed some tears coming around that last ridge. It took a hell of a long days work getting there and back from high camp. We left around 7am, stood on the summit at 7pm, and got back to camp well after 1am. The way up was rather chilly and windy- definitely had every single one of my layers on at the football field and keep them on for the way down, which was not too bad, just long. I was pretty exhausted the whole way – maybe altitude, dehydration, or lack of sleep.. who knows, but we didn’t take many breaks.. It was pretty awesome. Not the clearest of days, but felt pretty cool looking down on the north summit and standing on top of all of the clouds, and all of north America. Like TJ says though, its only because we have stood on the shoulders of giants that we can see further than most.

Coming off the summit ridge Jackson started rapidly exhibiting serious signs of HACE, so we had to get him down fast. He pretty much looked like a drunken toddler and couldn’t function much on his own, so TJ short-leashed him and basically pulled him down to the football field behind me. Everyone was pretty dehydrated and completely exhausted. Conor started hallucinating on Denali pass, but luckily David and TJ kept it together and we all made it down safely.

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July 11th:

At Wonder Lake campground and it feels so good.

It is super surreal being here—Finally done! And kind of an overwhelming feeling of safety. No more obstacles to overcome—no crevasses, icefalls, avalanches, glaciers, bears, or raging rivers. Just a bus to catch in the morning.

The skies cleared up today a bit so we get a super sweet view of the mountain. It looks absolutely humongous from down here. Crazy to think we were standing on the tiptop just a week ago. But we worked hard for it—and the hard work paid off. And what’s even better is that we all made it safe and sound back to solid ground. Fingers and toes, too.

No wonder they call it the great one.