The Prescription — February 2023

The following story describes a top-rope solo accident from 2021. The report arrived too late to include in the 2022 Accidents book. Unfortunately, this type of mishap has become more common as many choose the efficiency of partner-free ascent for much of their outdoor climbing.

Device Disengaged from Rope

Snowshed Wall, Donner Summit, California

Snowshed Wall. A rappelling climber is visible near the same place that Dozier fell. PC: Ryan Dozier

On June 7, 2021, Ryan Dozier (37) was top-rope soloing at Snowshed Wall at Donner Summit, near Lake Tahoe. Near the top, he fell, plummeting 50 feet before his system caught his fall. Ryan picks up the story from here.

On that day, “I completed four different climbs using a rig that I have frequently used over the past 10 years. I usually fix two strands of a dynamic rope at the anchor. I attach a Petzl Micro Traxion to one strand and weight it at the bottom. I use a Trango Cinch assisted-braking device on the other, unweighted strand. I attach both devices to my harness belay loop via locking carabiners. 

Dozier’s ropes on Crack Of The Eighties. He top-roped the route with one hang a year after his accident. PC: Ryan Dozier

“By early afternoon, most people had left the crag due to the breezy conditions. I moved my ropes to the anchor of Crack of the Eighties (5.13a) and weighted one line at the bottom with a rope bag stuffed with the remainder of the strand. This was a difficult route I had climbed many times over the years. I decided to modify my soloing setup by only using the one strand of rope and the Micro Traxion. I decided to do this because it was windy and I was worried my unweighted rappel strand would get blown around the corner. I also did not want to pull slack through the Cinch. This was also my last climb, and I wanted to get it done and head home. This was the first time I have ever soloed with just one device. 

“I fell three times on the first three quarters of the route, and the device engaged each time. Several feet below the anchor, I was in a difficult layback with high feet and I remember looking down at the Micro Traxion and thinking something seemed off. The device and carabiner were a little twisted, and I took one hand off the rock to straighten it out. 

Dozier being treated in the same ER where he formerly worked. PC: Ryan Dozier

“Before I could touch [the device], a foot popped and I began a 50-foot free fall, acutely aware that the cam was not biting the rope. In an attempt to slow myself down, I grabbed the rope with both hands and sustained deep rope burns to eight fingers and both palms. This action probably kept me upright. While the route is vertical to slightly overhanging and mostly devoid of features, my left foot impacted a protrusion just before I hit the ground. This impact caused my torso to crunch, and when this happened, the Micro Traxion miraculously engaged on the rope and arrested my fall. My feet were three feet above the ground. I was not wearing a helmet.

“Two friends happened to be nearby and witnessed the fall. I’m an ER trauma nurse and former EMT. This background was invaluable in rapidly assessing injury and determining the safest plan of action. I immediately put my leather belay gloves on my damaged hands so that I could use them. I checked my head, neck, chest, and other extremities for pain. Finding none, I knew my main injury was my left ankle dislocation. I had no feeling in the foot and knew that I couldn’t waste time. I used a prusik to unweight the Micro Traxion, lowered to the ground on a Grigri, and immediately retrieved painkillers from my first-aid kit. Calling 911 was discussed and we decided to self-rescue rather than wait for EMS. My fixed line helped me lower down the short but steep approach trail, and my two friends helped me hop across the creek and reach the road. They drove me to the ER, where my leg was realigned. I underwent surgery about a week later. My left foot had sustained a sub-talar dislocation and fractures to four different bones. I have since returned to rock climbing at nearly the level I had been, thanks to a copious amount of physical and mental therapy.”

ANALYSIS

“I can’t find any recorded accounts of this type of accident, but I have heard that it has happened before. It is common at climbing areas around the world to use a single Micro Traxion for toprope soloing.* This is an ‘off-label’ use of the device. There are no documented reports of its failure to engage during dynamic loading, although I have heard some campfire talk about it happening. I believe that while climbing, the device was squeezed in my lap in just the right way to lock the device open. It then re-engaged when my foot slammed into the cliff.

“The Micro Traxion had no visible damage. The rope had no apparent damage. I’ve had many conversations with friends in rope access and SAR. The best we can figure is that, besides causing my torso to crunch and re-engage the Micro Traxion, the impact of my foot caused me to slow down enough to minimize the impact on the rope. A more dynamic load onto a toothed cam would likely have core shot, if not severed, the line. 

“I made choices that day to modify my time-tested solo rig for many reasons—the Micro Traxion had never failed to engage in the past, it was windy, I was anxious to go home, and I didn’t want to have to pull slack through the backup device. None of those were good reasons, but at the time I convinced myself they were. If I had not remained upright, I would have certainly sustained a head injury. There is no good reason not to wear a helmet. If my foot had not hit the rare protrusion on this section of the cliff, I would have had a ground fall and been gravely injured or killed. In a redundant rigging system, this accident would likely not have happened.” (Source: Ryan Dozier.)

*Editor’s Note: Most climbers (the ANAC editor included) use a variety of top-rope solo systems that incorporate elastic cord, surgical tubing, or even a headlamp strap to keep the primary device upright and taut. This maintains the device’s orientation in some configurations, and keeps it separated from a backup device.

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More Analysis Of Top-Rope Device Malfunction

Big-wall climber and climbing instructor Yann Camus’ rope grab video provides some in-depth analysis of top-rope solo devices. The bottom line: Use a backup!

In another video, Camus examines more devices used by top-rope soloists. Along the way, he debunks some myths.

Different Devices, Similar Outcomes

Top-rope solo mishaps seem to be on the rise. From 2019 through 2021, four accidents involving other “off label” uses of devices on single ropes were reported in Accidents in North American Climbing. Two are below. 

Montezuma, Colorado

On the morning of September 19, 2021, Craig Faulhaber (41) fell to the ground while top-rope soloing Burning Down the Haus (5.13d). Faulhaber, a climber with 12 years of experience, set up his system using a single strand of 9.5mm dynamic rope. He fixed the rope and descended using a Petzl Grigri. For a self-belay, he switched to a Petzl Shunt attached to his harness’ belay loop with a locking, anti-cross-loading carabiner…

Vedauwoo, Wyoming

On August 20, 2019, a 26-year-old male drove to Vedauwoo, Wyoming for some after-work top-rope soloing. He set up a fixed line on To the Moon (5.10b/V0), a 35-foot crack with a bolted anchor. He used a Kong Duck mini-ascender with a paracord sling around his neck to keep the device high, prevent it from weighting the rope dynamically, and to keep it separate from a backup Petzl Micro Traxion…

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ANAC Translations

As we announced last month, the 2022 Accidents in North American Climbing has been translated into Chinese. Earlier, a crew of volunteers translated the 2020 Accidents in North American Climbing into Spanish. Click the links below for more information and download the PDFs.

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The Prescription — Auto Belay Accident—January 2023

The following report will appear in the 2023 edition of Accidents in North American Climbing. You can purchase the 2022 book and many previous editions through the AAC Store.

*A previous version of this Prescription used a photo from the Spot Gyms, however, the accident DID NOT occur at any of the Spot gyms, it occurred in a gym in NC. There has never been an accident of this kind at the Spot gyms.*

Failure To Clip Into Auto Belay

Asheville, North Carolina

This month we have an indoor gym accident of a type that sadly occurs with some frequency. This accident has a happy ending and a powerful lesson.

On December 14, 2022, Adam Herzog (43) miraculously survived a fall in which he suffered severe injuries after failing to clip into an auto belay in a climbing gym. Upon finishing the climb, he simply let go, and fell 45 feet to the ground. “I feel very lucky to be alive and not paralyzed,” said Herzog.

In Herzog’s own words:

“The fall resulted in a skull fracture, bilateral pulmonary contusions, three spinal fractures, right proximal radius fracture, left distal radius fracture, right pilon fracture (ankle shattered), left fibula fracture and a severe concussion.” His recovery is ongoing, “I was in the ICU on a ventilator for two days, and in the hospital for 15 days. I am expected to make a pretty full recovery. The pilon fracture may have some long-term effects and I lost some extension in the right arm.”

His post-accident recollections:  

“I awoke in a fog of drugs. A tube was jammed down my throat. A ventilator forced air into my chest unnaturally with positive pressure. The next day I woke up extubated. My wife was there as always, helping me through another crash. But this one felt bigger than the others.  

Adam rappelling before his accident. PC: Zach Frayser

“The next fifteen days I lay on the slick mattress of a hospital bed, intermittently conscious, asleep, exhausted, confused, and occasionally keenly aware that I had a long recovery ahead. I spent the next several weeks mulling over the events of December 14th. ‘How could I be so stupid?’ I wondered again and again. I beat myself up, apologized to my friends, family, and the staff at the climbing gym. I could not believe I would climb to the top of a route without clipping in. It seemed impossible.

“My friends reassured me. ‘It was an accident, man. It happens.’ A surprising number of people had similar stories of friends who took big falls on auto belays. I googled it and found a number of gym related accident reports.”

Analysis

Herzog writes, “I’ve been a paramedic for 22 years and a nurse for 14. In the medical field we refer to the ‘Swiss Cheese Model’ of medical errors. All the holes line up and boom, somebody dies. My accident was a perfect storm of mistakes that coincided with catastrophic results. They are listed here in the interest of preventing other climbers from falling into the same trap:

1. Hubris: I am not an expert climber. But I am an elite whitewater kayaker. I have been padding for over thirty years. The morning of my fall I paddled the Green River at high water. Once off the Green, I thought my risk exposure was over for the day. I didn’t treat the gym with the same respect I brought to the river. I should have.

2. Heuristics: Heuristics are mental shortcuts. They help us navigate our daily lives and can be useful or harmful. In my mind, “outside = dangerous, inside = safe.” When I climbed outdoors, I neurotically practiced setting up belays, cleaning routes, and rappelling before heading out. But I saw the gym as contrived, manufactured, and fake. A fifty-foot wall is a fifty-foot wall. It doesn’t matter if there are four walls and a ceiling around it. 

3. Inattention: I don’t bring my phone to the climbing wall so that I am not distracted. But the day I fell, I was preparing for a paramedic recertification exam. I studied a book between routes. I wonder if that distraction contributed to my fall.

4. Deviation: I have a system I usually stick to religiously. I climb a route, unclip, walk away, and take 5-10 minutes to rest before I approach the wall again. Before I fell, I climbed halfway up a route and dropped back down to the ground. I unclipped but instead of walking away, I immediately got back on the wall. The small deviation from my normal routine removed the visual cues that usually lead to me clipping into my harness. I am 6’4” so when standing right next to the wall, my line of sight is well above the gate.

5. Redundancy: I was climbing alone so there was no one to double check my system. In top rope and lead belay we constantly check each other’s knots. But on the auto belay it’s up to the climber to double check his or her system. In my haste I neglected to check anything.

6. Focus: The route I was on was a white (marked) 5.10. That grade is the upper limit of what I climb. Because I was at the edge of my ability, I was ultra-focused on the route and holds. That is why I didn’t notice the rope was not retracting as I climbed. Had I been on an easier route I suspect I would have been more attentive.

Let’s wish Adam Herzog a swift recovery. PC: John Parmenter

“These six factors led to my fall. I sit in a wheelchair typing this up, grateful I will only have to live in it for a couple of months. I hope that by writing this, I may prevent future incidents.

“Auto belay devices almost never fail. But people do. As long as humans are involved, mistakes happen. Are there steps gyms could take to prevent other terrible falls? Maybe, but ultimately it is the climber’s responsibility to climb safely. The gym can provide measures to mitigate risk, but we must engage those measures, and know that if we work around them, there is nothing between us and the gym floor.”

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Rescue & Medical Expense Coverage

Climbing can be a risky pursuit, but one worth the price of admission. Partner-level members receive $7,500 in rescue services and $5,000 in emergency medical expense and coverage. Looking for deeper coverage? Sign up for Leader-level and receive $300k in rescue services.

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From The Editor

Happy New Year! I’m still in Spain, clipping bolts and enjoying the good things that this country has to offer. Chulilla attracts climbers of all levels to its world-class limestone walls and is especially busy during the Christmas and New Year holiday season.

This crag dates back to the 1990s, and as such, should be reasonably clear of loose rock. However, a few days ago, a climber dislodged a baseball-sized stone while we were at the crag. It landed amid a cluster of belayers and onlookers. No one was struck, but the next day, one of my partners took the warning to heart and showed up wearing a helmet for belaying. Last night, a different partner was stuck by a small rock, apparently dislodged by a flock of birds perched on a ledge. An informal count at the crag revealed that about fifty percent of climbers were wearing a helmet.

To wear a helmet is a personal choice. When I started climbing, virtually no one owned, much less wore, a climbing helmet. Helmet wearing was considered by many as unnecessary. These days, I wear helmets while adventure climbing and now bring them to the sport crag. It’s a hard-earned lesson, as over the decades, I’ve had several head-related climbing accidents—one in which I was struck on my helmet-less head by falling ice, two in which I fell and my helmet probably saved my life, and one in which I was struck by falling rock that narrowly missed my head. These accidents took place on ice, alpine, or big wall climbs. — Pete Takeda

For an in-depth and humorous take on helmet technology from our friends @HardIsEasy, see below.

Accidents in North American Climbing to be Translated to Chinese

The cover 2022 Accidents in North American Climbing.

Several leading Chinese climbers from Beijing Xiangpan Outdoor Sports, are planning to translate the 2022 Accidents in North American Climbing. According to Chinese climber Zhou Peng, “All our work is done out of passion and voluntariness, without remuneration, and free of charge for climbers.”

About ANAC

This educational book has been published annually by the American Alpine Club for 75 years. The mission has always been the same: publish stories and analysis of climbing accidents so that other climbers can learn about the causes of accidents and avoid similar problems in the future. All of the stories and photos in the publication are donated by climbers, rescuers, and park rangers who share the same goals.

This publication documents accidents in the United States, Canada, and Mexico, and some of the problems described here are unique to those locations. However, in the large majority of cases, these lessons will be useful to rock climbers and mountaineers in China or anywhere else in the world. With this in mind, we are very happy to see this translation of the 2022 edition of the Accidents in North American Climbing book, and we hope that Chinese students and climbers will learn a lot from these stories.

— Dougald MacDonald, Executive Editor, American Alpine Club 

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The Prescription—Free Solo Fall— December 2022

The following report will appear in the 2023 edition of Accidents in North American Climbing. You can purchase the 2022 book and many previous editions through the AAC Store.

Free Solo Fall

Southern California, El Cajon Mountain, The Wedge

El Cajon Mountain, seen here, was scene of a recent free solo fatality. The route in question is Leonids, which climbs the face to the left of the angling dihedral and the sun-shade line. Photo: Michael Sandler

On December 4, Nathaniel Masahi Takatsuno (22) fell to his death while free soloing Leonids, a three-pitch 5.9 on The Wedge at El Cajon Mountain an hour east of San Diego.

Climber Michael Sandler witnessed the accident. In his report to Accidents, he wrote:

“As we were waiting (at the base), a single man walked by. I asked what his name was and we made some small talk. His name was Nate (Takatsuno), and he was a lab tech at University of California San Diego. He was alone but had a rope, so I asked him what route he was planning to do. He told me he wanted to solo Meteor—I asked if he was going to rope solo. He said no but was planning to carry up the rope in a pack and use it to rappel. I asked if he just didn't have any friends who wanted to climb, and he said that he did, but that he liked soloing. We observed that he was not planning to wear a helmet.

“At this point he started up the crag. He seemed gripped on even the third bolt—he was on the nearby Leonids (5.9) and not his intended route, Meteor (5.8). However, he made it up past the tricky start and kept heading up. As he did so, he would occasionally grab bolts; he had a small amount of gear with him to assist in this. He passed by another party that was already rappelling down the formation. They exchanged some words and asked if he was doing well. They reported that he was continuing to occasionally grab bolts.

“I was leading the first pitch of our route, when I felt a soft thud and gust of wind. I looked around and saw him fall to the ground.”

Sandler also said, “He (Takatsuno) was on the second pitch of either Meteor or Leonids, not sure. The two routes are very close together. He hit the trail and then continued down the steep hillside. Another party had just finished rappelling to the ground. I asked my partner Andrew to tie me off and I went direct into the closest bolt. A member of the other party said he was a Wilderness First Responder, so he went down the hillside to help. We immediately called 911 and were on the phone with the operator for the next 40 minutes.”

Helicopter from the San Diego County Sheriff’s Department lowering a paramedic to the accident scene. Photo: Michael Sandler

Sandler continued, “Helicopters arrived in approximately 45 minutes and dropped a paramedic. He took our info, looked at Nate, and then was picked up by the helicopter. We called the sheriff's office to figure out what they wanted us to do. They made it sound like it was alright for us to go, but we felt that they would be unable to find the body without very clear markers. We used climbing tape to mark the location.”

According to Climbing.com, Takatsuno’s body could not be recovered until the following day due to the late time of the accident.

Analysis

While we cannot ascertain what caused the fall, the route was in the sun, which may have been a factor. Sandler wrote, “It's south-facing and pretty inland, so it gets pretty hot (and it was definitely pretty warm that day). The easier climbing is usually techy face climbing, it never quite feels 'comfortable.’”

Rock quality may have played a factor. The Wedge was described in a 2010 Mountain Project post as having “plenty of ready-to-snap micro flakes and a few larger hollow bits.” ANAC Southern California reporter Christy Rosa, who has climbed Leonids, says, “The route he was on is 350 to 400 feet long, mostly solid granite, but a bit crumbly and flakey at a few points.” She adds, “It is one of the best routes in San Diego, so it's well traveled.”

Climbers on Meteor, the route to the right of Leonids. It is clear how close the falling free soloist was to Sandler. Photo: Josh Bedard

While there’s not much educational nor technical analysis to be made in free solo accidents, Rosa notes that this incident was the third free solo death in Southern California this year. As an ER doctor, her assessment is suitably objective, “The increased number of free solo accidents is simple math: More people are free soloing. This is likely a combination of seeing others successfully do it, and perhaps an increase in risk tolerance, as the pandemic has changed most of us.”

Sandler had several things to say. He pointed out that, “If, for whatever reason, you must free solo, do so on climbs well below your ability, ideally ones you have done before. From our discussion with Nate and his apparent discomfort on the climb, this was not an appropriate climb to be ropeless on.” Perhaps Sandler’s most important observation was to encourage soloists to think of others. “As a free soloist, you put the lives of those below you at risk. He flew by less than five feet from me; a collision could have led to serious trauma for myself.” Witnessing trauma can itself be traumatic. Sandler adds, “Thankfully, I'm doing okay. I had regular flashbacks for probably a week or so afterward, but those have thankfully become less frequent.”

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Join the Club—United We Climb.

Get Accidents Sent to You Annually

Partner-level members receive the Accidents in North American Climbing book every year. Detailing the most noteworthy climbing and skiing accidents each year, climbers, rangers, rescue professionals, and editors analyze what went wrong, so you can learn from others’ mistakes.

Rescue & Medical Expense Coverage

Climbing can be a risky pursuit, but one worth the price of admission. Partner-level members receive $7,500 in rescue services and $5,000 in emergency medical expense coverage. Looking for deeper coverage? Sign up for the Leader level and receive $300k in rescue services.

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Happy Warnings from the Editor

It’s the holiday season at Chulilla in eastern Spain. It’s my first time in this world-class area, and I’m fortunate to be clipping bolts on warm Spanish limestone. It’s a reminder that, while favoring athleticism over risk, sport climbing arguably holds perils for a greater number of climbers than other discipline, due to the sheer volume of participants and the repetition of critical tasks. The latter includes lowering, untying, retying, taking, and catching leader falls. Beginners and experts alike can benefit from remembering good belay practice, and even then, accidents can occur when unusual factors come into play.

A few days ago, I was belaying a partner on a difficult 40-meter pitch. He was using a brand new 8.9mm rope in order to write an online gear review. Though there were plenty of falls and takes, one hazard we avoided was unintentional slippage from a skinny and very slick rope. This can be an issue even when the belayer does (almost) everything right.

So, as I wish you safe and happy holidays, I’ll leave you with a short video that addresses this potential hazard. The video, which focuses on the Petzl Grigri but applies in similar ways to any assisted-braking belay device, is from a YouTube channel called Hard Is Easy. @HardIsEasy takes an analytic and often entertaining approach to gear, training, and technique. — Pete Takeda

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DMM Swivel Devices Recalled

Recently, DMM was made aware of a near-miss incident involving the failure of a DMM Director connector. These and similar devices are frequently used by rescuers and some possibly by big-wall climbers. Though the user was unhurt, DMM has issued a recall for nine items in their product line.

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EDUCATE: The Art of Shralpinism, with Jeremy Jones

Legendary backcountry snowboarder Jeremy Jones describes being in the mountains as “The idiot’s guide to the present moment.” This wisdom and so much more shines through in this interview with Jeremy about his new book, The Art of Shralpinsm: Lessons from the Mountains. Shralpinism, or the art of shredding and alpinism combined, is, according to Jeremy, a mix of the wisdom of reading avalanche danger, the science of changing conditions due to climate change, the art of evaluating risk and pushing past fear, and so much more. Jeremy shares stories from his many years of snowboarding in Alaska and other big mountain ranges, his tips on training, why he fell in love with going up as well as flowing down mountains, why most climbers should learn a little something about snow, and how to wrestle with the hard lessons the mountains teach you about danger, risk, and confidence. Listen in to this episode to get stoked and learn from the legendary big mountain shredder, originator of Jones Snowboards and Protect Our Winters, and devoted practitioner of the Church of the Seven-day Recreationalists.

You can get a copy of “The Art of Shralpinism: Lessons from the Mountains” here: www.mountaineers.org/books/books/th…-the-mountains

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American Alpine Club Podcast · EDUCATE: The Art of Shralpinism, with Jeremy Jones

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Episode Resources:

Buy the Book The Art of Shralpinism: Lessons from the Mountains

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CLIMB: The 10th Mountain Division and the Evolution of Climbing after WWII

You’ve probably heard of the 10th Mountain Division, but did you know that climbing is just as or MORE important than skiing in shaping this division of expert mountaineering troops? In this episode, we sat down with Christian Beckwith, the creator of the 90 Pound Rucksack Podcast, and writer of a book by the same name, to talk about how climbers influenced the creation of the 10th Mountain Division, how climbing itself was critical to a battle in Italy that helped facilitate the end of the WWII, and the many gear developments that evolved from the 10th Mountain Division that shaped the climbing and mountaineering boom after the war. If you’re a history buff, you are going to especially love this episode. But even as someone who doesn’t have a particular connection to history, or especially military history, you can’t deny that tracing the impact of climbing on a world scale hits the spot for anyone who loves this sport.

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American Alpine Club Podcast · CLIMB: The 10th Mountain Division and the Evolution of Climbing After WWII

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Listen to more history of the 10th Mountain Division and their impact on climbing history on The Ninety Pound Rucksack podcast.

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Resources

More about Christian Beckwith

Discover “The Nintey Pound Rucksack”

The Prescription—November 2022

The Ice Climbing Atlas Project

Avalanche Observations from Popular Ice Climbs in the Canadian Rockies

Our friends in the Canadian Rockies take avalanches seriously. The terrain is big, cold, and snowy. The Rockies are also a popular ice climbing venue that holds a vast trove of some of the best ice in the world. However, those who want to climb cascades, gullies, smears, and drips in this region must pay heed to the perils of avalanches. Fortunately, Avalanche Canada, a not-for-profit organization dedicated to public avalanche safety that issues daily avalanche forecasts throughout the winter and provides avalanche awareness and education programs, recently started the Ice Climbing Atlas Project.

Rogan’s Gully has a roadside location and moderate climbing, making it a popular outing. As shown, though, once in the gully it’s near impossible to get out of harm’s way should something come down. Photo: Avalanche Canada/Grant Statham

The Ice Climbing Atlas Project started through an ongoing collaboration between Avalanche Canada, their ambassador Sarah Hueniken, and Grant Statham, a visitor safety specialist for Banff National Park. Hueniken and Statham are among the most experienced ice climbers in the range and are also certified guides. The atlas is intended to provide an overview of historical avalanche observations from popular ice climbs in the Rockies. According to the website, this work in progress will be regularly updated as information on climbs gets collected.

The Ice Climbing Atlas Project provides an Avalanche Terrain Exposure Scale (ATES) rating for eight very popular ice climbs. According to Parks Canada, the ATES categorizes avalanche terrain based on unchanging characteristics. By using the ATES, climbers will get a sense of the type of avalanche terrain threatening their proposed route and its approach.

The Ice Climbing Atlas merges graphics with actual route photos to illustrate avalanche hazards. Photo: Avalanche Canada/Grant Statham

Cascade Waterfall is close to the road, moderate in grade, and sits in the sun. It has also seen many unfortunate avalanches originating from terrain above it. Photo: Avalanche Canada/Grant Statham

Cascade Waterfall avalanche accidents from the ANAC archive: Report 1; Report 2

The atlas also provides other crucial information for each climbing route. This includes data on how often these routes get climbed; information on the frequency of avalanches; analyses regarding the time of year and frequency of climbing; presence of avalanche debris; graphical representation of the avalanche start zones and run-outs; and reports of actual avalanches/accidents.

As noted on the site: Avalanche observations are collected through surveys of local climbers conducted by Sarah Hueniken. Our hope is that by sharing historical data, climbers can better understand the avalanche hazard that exists on these popular climbs. We strongly encourage all ice climbers to always carry avalanche safety gear—transceiver, probe, and shovel.

The Ice Climbing Atlas Project points the way to the future. Hopefully, an organization in the United States will eventually create something along these same lines.

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Join the Club—United We Climb.

Get Accidents Sent to You Annually

Partner-level members receive the Accidents in North American Climbing book every year. Detailing the most noteworthy climbing and skiing accidents each year, climbers, rangers, rescue professionals, and editors analyze what went wrong, so you can learn from others’ mistakes.

Rescue & Medical Expense Coverage

Climbing can be a risky pursuit, but one worth the price of admission. Partner-level members receive $7,500 in rescue services and $5,000 in emergency medical expense coverage. Looking for deeper coverage? Sign up for Leader-level and receive $300k in rescue services.

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FALL AND SPRING AVALANCHES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES: THE EDITOR’S STORY

In the Rockies, winter is not the only season in which avalanches pose a climbing hazard. It can snow during any month of the year, so fall, spring, and even summer can be hazardous for climbers.

Avalanches in the Rockies can be huge and often follow the climber’s line of ascent. Photo: Wikimedia Commons/David Wilson

In September 1997, my climbing partner and I drove up to Canada with an eye on alpine routes. Conditions were typically mercurial—one day an alpine rock route would be dry, and the next morning it would be covered with verglas. On another day, a different route would be filled with blue ice, and on the next it would be flushed by an avalanche every 15 minutes, spawned on the slopes far above the climbing route. We always erred on the side of safety, waiting for days on end after storms before venturing onto a climb. Even approaches could be perilous.

The next spring we drove up and met the one and only Jeff Lowe, intent on doing a new route above the Icefields Parkway. Sure enough some storms rolled through, costing us several days. Lowe was on a tight schedule and departed while the remaining two of us decided to scope out a route on a big mountain that was fairly close to the road.

To get a better view, we pulled off the highway and skied across a lake and into the forest on the far side. There, below an open slope—read: avalanche path—we pulled out the binoculars to scope out the climb. The route we had in mind followed a large gully that cut across the face before joining a couloir leading to the crux rock band below the summit. The sky was clear blue, the temperatures were cold, and the air still. After ten minutes of observation, we turned our backs to ski down in search of a different perspective.

Rockies ice climbing is world class but comes with a host of big-mountain hazards. Photo: Wikimedia Commons/Dwayne Reilander

Above we heard a faint crack and turned to watch as a puff of powder snow in the upper couloir wafted down. It grew larger and larger. It was a beautiful sight as the cloud billowed and slowly descended the gully. After a few moments we could hear a dull roar growing louder and louder. We turned to each other and wordlessly asked, “How big is this?” The cloud grew bigger and bigger and closer and closer. We began skiing faster and faster away from the face. I looked over my shoulder and saw to my horror that as the cloud struck the lower slopes it neither slowed nor dissipated.

At this point we were skiing as fast as we could. Behind us, we could sense the pressure change as the avalanche pushed the air in its path. I glanced over my shoulder again. The cloud engulfed us and we crouched in a dark, seething mass of crystals that pelted us with little bullets of ice. After several long moments the roaring subsided and light penetrated the darkness. We shook the snow off our jackets and stood laughing with relief at what had been a very close call.

The Rockies holds a vast range of elevations, exposure, rock quality, and climbing styles each with its own set of complexities. I have climbed in the Canadian Rockies on over a dozen occasions and I still feel like I have so much to learn. For a reasonably simple explanation of the Rockies climbing seasons with general seasonal avalanche information, see Will Gadd’s webpage on Rockies climbing seasons.

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The Sharp End · Ep 82 - Impaled On Mt Rainier

The Sharp End: Impaled on Mt. Rainer

Mountaineering holds a host of hazards besides avalanches. Freezing cold, high winds, and falling rocks can plague any ascent, but what happens when a climber falls and gets skewered by his own ice axe? A climber named Aavron was on Mt. Rainier when he fell, pulling his climbing partner down a slippery slope with him. During the fall, he was impaled by his ice axe. Listen to this episode of the Sharp End Podcast to hear what happened and what Aavron learned from his accident.

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The Prescription Newsletter is published monthly by the American Alpine Club.

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The Prescription — October 2022

The following report will appear in the upcoming edition of Accidents in North American Climbing. The 2022 books are being prepared for shipment and will start going into the mail next week.

Stranded | Exposure and Weather

Yosemite National Park, Half Dome

Nick and Kate being hoisted to the summit of Half Dome after the storm in mid-October of 2021. Big Sandy and Thank God ledges are clearly outlined below by the plastering of fresh snow. Photo: Jack Cramer

In the evening of October 17, two climbers, Kate (28) and Nick (26), started up the Regular Northwest Face of Half Dome (23 pitches, 5.9 C2) after completing The Nose on El Capitan (31 pitches, 5.9 C2) earlier in the same day. Nick and Kate were both experienced climbers attempting a sub-24-hour link-up of the two walls. They failed to summit Half Dome when they were caught in a winter storm, five pitches from the top. 

After finishing The Nose, Kate and Nick ate lunch and started up the approach to Half Dome. The weather forecasted a 90 percent chance of precipitation around 1:30 a.m. Despite that, neither talked about rescheduling.

Kate and Nick started climbing the Northwest Face around 6 p.m. They made good progress, but around midnight they were engulfed in a winter-like storm. At this point, Nick and Kate were simul-climbing through 5.9 and 5.10 terrain, with snow and ice accumulating on ledges and in cracks. Around 12:30 a.m., they arrived at Big Sandy Ledge, atop pitch 18.

Nick and Kate are visible on a snow-covered Big Sandy Ledge in lower right. The icy Zig-Zag pitches are directly above this ledge. Photo: Jack Cramer

Nick began leading the first pitch of the “Zig-Zags” (pitch 19) with increasing difficulty. He was scraping ice out of the cracks and, at one point, slipped off a large foot ledge and fell back onto his daisy chain. Their gear was freezing solid, and Kate’s hands were losing their ability to function.  

Nick still wanted to try and summit, but Kate did not think safely continuing was possible. At this point, they had not sustained any injuries, but the pitches ahead included Thank God Ledge and multiple slab pitches, none of which is inconsequential, especially if covered with ice and snow. They called 911 at 1:50 a.m. and were told to call back at 6 a.m. In a few hours the snow stopped falling, the wind died down, and the temperature dropped. At first light, the conditions on the route were even icier. At 6 a.m., they called search and rescue back and confirmed they needed assistance.

Shortly afterward, Yosemite Search and Rescue (YOSAR) gathered for a technical rescue on Half Dome. The plan was to fly rescuers, ropes, and all necessary equipment to the summit with a helicopter and lower one member of YOSAR to Nick and Kate and then haul them up to the summit. Due to the cold conditions, the helicopter got delayed because the rotors needed to de-ice.

Nick and Kate huddling for warmth on snow-covered Big Sandy Ledge. Photo: Jack Cramer

Later that morning, conditions allowed the helicopter to fly. A rescuer was lowered to Nick and Kate, carrying jackets and warm beverages. Once the rescuer attached to Kate and Nick, two teams on top raised the climbers to the summit. Miraculously, neither Kate nor Nick sustained any cold-related injuries.

ANALYSIS

Heed the forecast. Severe storms can roll through Yosemite any month of the year, but early spring and late fall often catch climbers unaware. In this case, the team saw a forecast for the Valley floor (4,000 feet elevation) with precipitation starting at 1:30 a.m., and they were surprised when the storm started two hours earlier. The conditions on Half Dome (8,846 feet) were unsurprisingly much more intense and severe. 

Nick and Kate on the summit of Half Dome. Photographer Jack Cramer reported that the pair recovered and successfully completed The Nose/Half Dome link-up in spring 2022. Photo: Jack Cramer

Don’t allow the goal to blind your judgment. The link-up of Half Dome and El Capitan in under 24 hours is an admirable goal for any Valley climber. After a season of training and a plan set in motion, it can be tough to decide to bail, especially given that the climbers had completed El Capitan and were “on track” for a sub-24-hour time. They ignored a known weather risk to complete their goal. 

Communicate openly with your partner. Many accidents and rescues can be avoided with better communication. Any reservations or concerns should be immediately communicated. Especially with disappointment on the line, it can be challenging to start the conversation. Partners, particularly new partners, should regularly check in and practice their communication like other climbing skills. Sure, one partner might be disappointed at first, but if it means not having to spend the night in a winter storm or worse, it might be worth it.

Although they discussed the weather, there was no conversation about a worst-case scenario. The climbers didn’t discuss the possibility of not making it to the top nor what the upper pitches would be like in a storm. The final pitch of the Regular Northwest Face is slab climbing with limited opportunities to aid. There should always be a conversation about how to retreat if there is no real possibility of going up.

Pack the proper layers. If you know there is a chance of precipitation, you should pack suitable layers. Kate and Nick both had warm gloves (Kate was not initially wearing them), base layers, and hardshell jackets. However, neither had hardshell pants, and they felt like that was a major mistake. Both Kate and Nick have experience with ice/mixed climbing in winter conditions and thought they could have possibly self-rescued the following morning with the appropriate layers.

A National Park Service rescue helicopter departs the sunny Valley floor on the way to the snowy and frozen summit of Half Dome. Photo: Jack Cramer

Know when to call for a rescue (and have the ability to communicate). It’s tough to know when the right time is. Ultimately, Kate decided they should call for help when she felt like she could not safely use her hands. The need for a rescue became more apparent when they were rappelling back down to Big Sandy after attempting the Zig-Zags. The ropes were extremely icy, making the rappel dangerous. They rappelled with Grigris and used slings as “third-hand” backup prusiks, and did not feel it was safe to try and retreat further. There were legitimate concerns that if they attempted to continue upward, Kate and/or Nick could have gotten injured; this would have made the situation much worse and the rescue more complex.

They only carried one cell phone with them, and fortunately they were able to make a phone call to 911. To communicate with YOSAR, they kept the phone off when not in use and kept the phone next to their bodies to keep it warm and preserve the battery. (Source: Yosemite National Park Climbing Rangers.)

This report is adapted from a story at Yosemite Climbing Information, published by Yosemite rangers. 

SEASONAL HAZARDS: THE EDITOR’S STORY

The shoulder-season months of March/April and October/November can be perilous in Yosemite. After a long winter spent indoors, clear and sunny weather in early spring can lure climbers onto the walls. In fall, peak fitness honed over summer, combined with seemingly endless weeks of perfect weather, can tempt climbers to squeeze in one last end-of-the-season send.  

As the old saying goes, “Good judgment comes from bad experience.” Take it from Pete Takeda, editor of ANAC:

“I spent seven years living in Yosemite. Over that period, I climbed many big walls and suffered more than a few bad-weather epics. One instance stands out. 

“I was coming off a long winter and was itching to get on a wall. So in early April, my partner and I launched up an El Cap route called Lost World, foolishly ignoring a storm forecast. There was no internet back then, but the San Francisco Chronicle, delivered to the Valley on a daily basis, had a generally solid forecast printed in plain black and white on the front page. After two days of climbing, a storm clobbered us above the point of no return, and we spent the next three days soaked to the bone. My shelter was a thin sleeping bag and a leaky bivy sack. On day one of the storm, we foolishly declined an NPS rescue.

On day two I became concerned about hypothermia and asked my partner, ‘Are we going to make it?’ He was a veteran survivor of epics on walls and big mountains. His reply was frightening. ‘How the f*** should I know?’ 

“Day three dawned with sleet, but by noon the sun had peeked out. We jumped into action, climbing for our lives, and barely summited during a few hours of good weather. I’d lost ten pounds and acquired a case of trench foot. Had we had another day of bad weather I might not be sharing this tale.”

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FROM THE ACCIDENTS VAULT: HALF DOME STORIES

These three rescues involved legendary climbers caught in storms on Half Dome:

In 1968, Warren Harding and Galen Rowell got caught in a storm on a new route.

On 27 October Warren Harding (44) and Galen Rowell (28) began an ascent on the unclimbed South Face of Half Dome. It was late in the year, but the weather looked good for the future and they both had equipment in the experimental stages, namely a single suspension bivouac hammock and shelter which would feasibly protect them from the weather in case a storm did break….

In 1986, Steve Bosque, Mike Corbett, and John Middendorf were trapped by an epic storm on the South Face.

(The trio) had been climbing the South Face route on Half Dome since March 4… McDevitt (a Search and Rescue team member) reported by radio that he had attempted to contact the climbers with a loudspeaker and that they had yelled that they needed to be rescued… McDevitt reported blizzard conditions in Little Yosemite Valley with heavy snowfall and strong winds…. 

Scenes from the 1986 South Face epic. Photos: John Middendorf Collection. Read Middendorf’s harrowing personal account here.

In 1975, budding young Stonemasters Dave Diegelman and Bill Price were rescued from the Regular North Face.

Dave Diegelman (17) and Bill Brice (17) had been climbing for the full day of August 19, 1975, on Half Dome’s Regular North (sic) Face, VI 5.8, A3. It started to rain moderately hard at 3 p.m. The climbers continued on for one more hour to reach the bivouac ledge (13th pitch). The rain continued all night and was accompanied by freezing temperatures…. 

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American Alpine Club Podcast · EDUCATE: Trends in Climbing Accidents, with Pete Takeda

EDUCATE: Trends in Climbing Accidents, with Pete Takeda

In this episode, we sat down with Pete to talk about the process of selecting the stories and analysis for the "Accidents" publication each year, trends in climbing accidents that Pete has noticed through his work—including many that the climbing world has been ignoring for far too long—and the bravery of submitting a report in a world that loves to critique.

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American Alpine Club Podcast · EDUCATE: Inside the Life of Search and Rescue Teams

EDUCATE: Inside the Life of Search and Rescue Teams

In this episode of the podcast, we talk to Grant Kleeves, a volunteer with Ouray Mountain Rescue, one of the winning SAR teams for last year’s Rocky Talkie SAR Award. We talk to Grant about some of the operational and logistical challenges that SAR teams face, and he walks us through the decision making process for a particular rescue Ouray Mountain Rescue did in 2021. You might note that we don’t describe what caused the accident, or analyze the accident either. And this is on purpose. Most of the time, SAR teams get a call for services without much context, and they must make decisions based on what they know. The story that Grant shares with us reflects that tricky reality.

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The Prescription Newsletter is published monthly by the American Alpine Club.

EDUCATE: Inside the Life of Search and Rescue Teams

As mountain athletes, we know the expertise, technical knowledge, and bravery that goes into what Search and Rescue teams do—helping fellow mountain-lovers in distress. SAR work is invaluable, but it's also shrouded in mystery and can be pretty hard to talk about too, given the tragic outcomes of some rescues.

In this episode of the podcast, we talk to Grant Kleeves, a volunteer with Ouray Mountain Rescue, one of the winning SAR teams for last year’s Rocky Talkie SAR Award. We talk to Grant about some of the operational and logistical challenges that SAR teams face, and he walks us through the decision making process for a particular rescue Ouray Mountain Rescue did in 2021. You might note that we don’t describe what caused the accident, or analyze the accident either. And this is on purpose. Most of the time, SAR teams get a call for services without much context, and they must make decisions based on what they know. The story that Grant shares with us reflects that tricky reality.

American Alpine Club Podcast · EDUCATE: Inside the Life of Search and Rescue Teams

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The AAC and Rocky Talkie are partnering once again this year to offer the Search and Rescue Award—giving a total of $36,000 to three Search and Rescue teams who responded to 2022 incidents in exceptional and inspirational ways. If you or a friend are part of a SAR team that is doing the good work out there, make sure you apply for the Award before the end of January 2023!

EDUCATE: Trends in Climbing Accidents, with Pete Takeda

EDUCATE: Trends in Climbing Accidents, with Pete Takeda

Pete Takeda might be new to editing "Accidents in North American Climbing," but he’s not new to the climbing game. With decades of experience, and through actively developing a database of all of the climbing accidents submitted to the publication for over half a century, he wields a unique level of knowledge about accident trends in climbing. In this episode, we sat down with Pete to talk about the process of selecting the stories and analysis for the "Accidents" publication each year, trends in climbing accidents that Pete has noticed through his work—including many that the climbing world has been ignoring for far too long—and the bravery of submitting a report in a world that loves to critique.

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The Archives of Accidents in North American Climbing

The Prescription — September 2022

The following reports will appear in the upcoming 2022 edition of Accidents in North American Climbing.

LEADER FALL | Single Piece Pulled Out 

Eldorado Canyon State Park, Wind Tower

Tiffany Hauck just moments before slipping and falling 30 feet, directly past the belay. Photo: Mike Sutton

My partner Mike (46) and I, Tiffany Hauck (50), convened on the morning of June 13, 2021. Our sights were set on Wind Ridge (4 pitches, 5.7). We had climbed on the route a month earlier but ended up missing a good portion of the ridge. We wanted to bag the full climb.

We made good progress and were soon at the top of the second pitch, nested in a cave-like hollow. Mike had led the previous pitch and opted to wrap the rope around a single largish boulder as the only anchor in the belay. I’d led the next pitch previously and knew that once I maneuvered past the chin-up, it was gravy.

I tightened my helmet and stepped onto a nearby boulder, so I could stretch and reach a large flake, which overhangs about eight feet above the belay. I heaved myself up into a narrow hollow. I put a cam in the same crack I’d previously used and then yanked in four directions. Satisfied the cam was stable and wouldn’t walk, I clipped in, stood up, assessed my position, and made a step onto a tiny foothold—and I slipped.

My right side slammed onto a large boulder at the edge of the belay ledge and I bounced—how far out, I don’t know, as I lost sense of direction. [As Hauck fell, the sole cam she had placed as protection pulled out.] My ears filled with the sound of pro slamming into the rock and striking my helmet. I was yanked back toward the rock, then bounced briefly again before I came to a stop. [Hauck and her partner estimated the fall was around 30 feet, ending well below the belay ledge.]

Looking up at the narrow hollow crux, where two different falls in 2021 led to serious accidents. Photo: Tiffany Hauck

It took time, but I righted myself and looked up to see Mike leaning over the boulder I’d hit on the way down. The first thing I noticed was a large splatter of blood on the rock between us, but Mike quickly explained that it was his blood—he had been pulled violently across the rock when I fell. I painfully climbed back to the belay ledge, and eventually we scrambled over to the descent trail. With the help of Mike and a climber named Hillary, who had come up the route behind us, I was able to walk out under my own power.

A visit to the emergency room revealed no concussion and no broken bones. I had minor scrapes and bruises on my shins, and contusions on my hip and buttocks. That evening, my left shin swelled to twice its normal size. The contusion would take weeks to heal.

Analysis

It is hard to say for sure the cause of the cam failing. I don’t know if it’s because I put in the wrong sized cam or if I put it in a bad location. But the most likely cause is that I placed too small of a cam, or that I placed it in a flaring crack. (Source: Tiffany Hauck.)

The second-pitch belay anchor on Wind Ridge is best built with this large block, in this case using part of the lead rope to tie it off. The long sling in the foreground is clipped to a cam placed in a shallow pocket. Photo: Pete Takeda

Editor’s Note: On Wind Ridge, a fall at this point is often a ledge fall. The cracks available at this crux are flared and piton-scarred, making cam placements tricky. Often, cams placed straight into piton scars appear secure. However, when the cam is rotated downward under load, it can disengage. Also, the interior lobes, hidden from view, might not be securely engaged because of grooves inside the crack. One can easily choose to skip this pitch by traversing along the big ledge.

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A TRAGIC ACCIDENT TWO MONTHS LATER

Wind Ridge climbs directly to the circled belay ledge atop pitch two. This was the site of both accidents reported here. At this point, climbers can either escape left or continue through an overhang. In the August 2021 incident, the two climbers fell all the way to the point marked X. Photo: Tommy Copeland 

The exact spot of Hauck’s fall was the site of an eerily similar accident two months later. On August 26, two climbers suffered a belay anchor failure and fell over 100 feet. Climber 1 was in his 20s and survived with severe injuries. Climber 2 was in his 30s. He sustained fatal injuries.  

In a Climbing magazine accident report, Climber 1 recalled using a cordelette to girth-hitch a horn in the alcove for a belay. Climber 1 began leading the third pitch and moved out of the narrow hollow (where Hauck had fallen), at which point he gave his belayer a warning and fell. 

The two climbers tumbled end over end until they stopped on a ledge with a tree above the first pitch of a route called Tagger.

Later, SAR found no evidence of an anchor at the belay ledge. Perhaps the pair were unanchored. Perhaps their gear came unclipped or broke, as can happen in severe incidents. What is certain is their anchor, assuming they had one, was insufficient.

Danger Zones

Eldorado Canyon is notorious for its heady climbing style and demanding terrain. Adventure often extends well beyond the grade of the climbing and into the realm of rock quality, gear placements, and building belay anchors. See “DANGER ZONES: ELDORADO CANYON” for more information on where and why accidents happen in Colorado's trad mecca. 

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SAME ACCIDENT, ONLY DIFFERENT

On pitch two of the South Face of Washington Column, the leader fell 35 feet after a piece failed in a pin-scarred crack. Several of his lower pieces pulled as he fell. Photo: NPS

Piton scars infest many popular routes across North America. Back in the day, climbers hammered these tapered, nail-like spikes—often called “pins”—into cracks, using them as we now use nuts and cams. Over the years, repeated placement and removal of pitons marred these cracks with flared and irregular scars. Today, these disfigured cracks often offer passage on many moderate and popular classics. Thus, novices are often confronted with tricky protection placements.

California, Yosemite Valley
On October 7, 2016, two climbers started up the South Face of Washington Column. This popular route is a first big wall for many. On pitch two, the leader started climbing up a pin-scarred corner rated C1. Approximately 35 feet up, the piece he was standing on pulled out. The team believe that the falling leader pulled out an additional three pieces of gear during his fall, before landing on the belay ledge on his right side. When he tried to move, the injured leader experienced excruciating pain on his side and was having trouble breathing. They called 911 and YOSAR responded with an ultimately successful rescue. As with Hauck’s accident on Wind Ridge (above), the culprit was an inadequately placed cam in a piton scar. Read more on this in ANAC 2017.

See the National Park Service Accident Report for more images and details.

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 The Prescription newsletter is published monthly by the American Alpine Club.

The Prescription — July 2022

FALLING ROCK | Severed Rope

New York, Shawangunks

The following report will appear in the upcoming 2022 edition of Accidents in North American Climbing.

On April 18, 2021, Gabe Schwartz (39) and Kile Simpson (33) were climbing Wrist, a two-pitch 5.6 in the Trapps area of the Gunks. Simpson, a climber with four years of experience, was leading the first pitch. Schwartz, who had been climbing for over ten years, wrote, “He (Kile) was nearing the top of the first pitch when he let out a yell.” Schwartz assumed his partner had fallen. He “...took a step back to prepare for a big catch and looked up to see a large rock falling down the wall.”

The rock landed at the bottom of the cliff and obliterated a dead tree before joining a scree field. At this point, Schwartz saw the lead rope lying limp on the ground. It had been severed about 40 feet below Simpson.

Schwartz recounts, “Once I notified him of the situation, he placed two cams and anchored off of them. He was at a hands-free stance. I happened to have my [own] rope with me, so I had a climber in the area belay me as I led up to the top of the first pitch. I set an anchor and tossed my partner the end of the rope so that he could tie in [and climb to my stance]. We finished the second pitch and retrieved all of our gear as we rappelled. We found the rock after the fact and estimated it to be 80 to 90 pounds.

ANALYSIS

Simpson wrote, “I was on an obvious line, but apparently off route. The rock that sheared seemed stable. I used it as a handhold. Having four points of contact and a large ledge was why I did not fall. I was not aware of the loose rock until after the incident.” He was 100 feet up when the rope was severed, and he was fortunate that the weight of the block impacting his rope did not pull him off.

This accident resulted in a combination of the leader taking a less frequented line and possibly the presence of loose rock in the early spring due to the freeze/thaw cycle. Simpson was wearing a helmet. Schwartz cannot recall if he had his helmet on while belaying, but his rule was to wear a helmet 100 percent of the time while climbing and perhaps 50 percent of the time on the ground. Now, he always wears a helmet while belaying. (Source: Gabe Schwartz.)

ROPES DON’T BREAK…RIGHT?!

Undamaged climbing ropes rarely if ever break in use, but they can be cut quite easily when loaded over a sharp edge of rock—or when impacted by a falling block. The incident described above is one of two separate cases reported in 2021 in which a falling rock cut the leader’s rope. In the second incident, near the top of a previously unclimbed route in Zion National Park, the rockfall sliced the lead rope and then impacted the belayer, badly breaking his leg. This incident will be analyzed in ANAC 2022 and was covered in Episode 71 of the Sharp End podcast (see the link below).

Leading with two half ropes or twin ropes can offer an additional margin of safety in loose terrain, but the best way to prevent rope-cutting accidents like these is to avoid knocking off rocks in the first place: Stay on route, test all suspicious holds or blocks, and use directional pieces to prevent the rope from dragging across ledges or tugging on loose blocks.

The Sharp End · Getting Rescued in Zion National Park (Ep. 71)

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EXPERTS ONLY

There’s a misperception that climbing accidents most frequently involve novice climbers. In fact, according to the data collected by Accidents since the 1950s, only about 30 percent of reported technical climbing accidents involved beginners, in cases where the victim’s experience level was recorded. By contrast, more than 40 percent of accidents involved experienced climbers (more than three years of experience) or experts. In some cases, these experts have been among the most talented and high-profile climbers in America. Consider these three recent examples from the Accidents archives:

Molly Mitchell attempting Crank It in Boulder Canyon. The pieces that pulled out are marked. Photo by Tory Powers

Molly Mitchell, Boulder Canyon, Colorado Mitchell was attempting a no-bolts ascent of Crank It (5.13c/d) at Castle Rock. After a fall pulled out all four pieces of protection she had placed, she hit the ground and suffered a broken back. In her report in ANAC 2021, Mitchell wrote, “The crack is very polished, shallow, and flaring. The pieces are incredibly specific, and sometimes even when they look OK, they will not hold a dynamic fall. The bottom piece that pulled out (the medium nut) was a solid piece of gear, but what happened is the tension in the rope from ripping the upper pieces actually lifted this nut up and out of the crack. Had that nut held, I would not have hit the ground.” Almost 18 months after her ground fall—and after more rehearsal and preparation—Mitchell sent Crank It in June without clipping the bolts.

Hans Florine, El Capitan, California The man who repeatedly held the speed record for the Nose of El Cap and has climbed the route more than 100 times took a serious fall near the top of the route in May 2018. As Florine led the thin crack above Triangle Ledge, a piece popped and sent him for a 20-foot fall; he clipped the ledge and injured both legs, necessitating a rescue. Florine and his partner had dropped a gear sling with their small cams low on the climb, and one of the takeaways outlined in ANAC 2019 was the need to reassess one’s goals during a big climb if the circumstances change.

Alex Honnold, Index, Washington Honnold planned to run up a short 5.9 route to hang a top-rope for a relatively inexperienced partner and her family. At the last minute they switched to a shorter rope, and when he lowered off from the anchor, the end of the rope slipped through the belay device and he fell to the ground, suffering a back injury. In ANAC 2016, he explained, “Lots of things should have been done better—we should have thought about how long the rope was, we should have been paying more attention, we should have had a knot in the end of the rope. I wasn't wearing a helmet and was lucky to not injure my head…. Basically, things were all just a bit too lax.”

We’re grateful to all climbers—whether professionals or rookies—who choose to share these lessons and help educate others. Find our how to share your story—write to us at [email protected].

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The Prescription newsletter is published monthly by the American Alpine Club.

The Prescription — June 2022

CRITTER DANGER

Colorado, Clear Creek Canyon

istock.com/SWKrullImaging

On December 4, a male climber (28) was struck by a falling rock while waiting at the base of the first pitch of Tortoise Scute (5.6), a three-pitch bolted climb. The block was reportedly microwave-sized. Although he survived the initial impact (he was wearing a helmet), he was later taken off life support at the hospital.

The rockfall initially was believed to have been generated by climbers above. However, it is improbable that a falling object dropped by climbers would have intersected the base of Tortoise Scute, as most of this crag’s climbs and the walk-off descent route are far to the west of Tortoise Scute, and no climbers are believed to have been directly above the route at the time of the accident.   

Other Critters is one of several crags spanning a hillside above Clear Creek Canyon. The arrow marks the first pitch of Tortoise Scute. Most of the routes end well below the rugged top of the cliff, where sheep and other wildlife frequently are present. Photo by Alan Prehmus

Evidence points to a natural event, quite possibly wildlife-generated rockfall. Climber Scott Turpin, who established highlines and climbs at a crag west of Other Critters and built a trail used to access these areas, said he frequently saw bighorn sheep in the area. “Especially in the winter and spring, bighorns would use the trail frequently, but were more often on the opposite side, directly above Safari and Other Critters. I saw lambs with them on multiple occasions. Though I was impressed by how agile the sheep were, I definitely saw them trundle rocks.”

Colorado Parks and Wildlife senior wildlife biologist Shannon Schaller said, “Bighorns frequent Clear Creek Canyon. It’s a lambing area, and they very possibly could have dislodged a rock above the climbing cliff.” She notes, “Rocks triggered by bighorns are a potential hazard to climbers, though it’s extremely rare as the sheep are very shy and tend to avoid people.” Nonetheless, she said, “I personally have seen falling rock caused by wildlife. For the same reasons people like to climb in an area, it’s also good for a bighorn habitat.”

It’s easy to be lulled into a sense of security at a very popular crag. The moderate grades, easy access, and sun-drenched aspect make this particular cliff a busy year-round destination. However, this is not a gym, and natural rockfall should be expected at any crag in a mountainous or canyon environment. (This is especially true after heavy rain or snow or during wind storms, all of which can dislodge rocks.) Adopting an alpinist’s sense of mountain awareness can help prevent such accidents. Watch and listen for rockfall, try to choose protected belay areas, and wear helmets while climbing, belaying, or waiting your turn to climb. (Sources: Mountain Project, Scott Turpin, and Shannon Schaller.)

MORE TRUNDLING BY ANIMALS

Although rockfall incidents are frequently reported in Accidents, few are directly attributed to wildlife. Here are two cases where animals were the suspected culprits:

The Golf Course, Canmore, Alberta: Mountain goats have been known to knock rocks off the top of this very popular sport climbing area. Two climbers were injured here in 2015.

Red Mountain, Cascades, Washington: Rockfall sprayed a group partway up the mountain in 1963, injuring one of the climbers. The climbers believed it must have been caused by animals, either goats or marmots.

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DOCTOR BANNED FROM DENALI 

The “Autobahn,” the traverse from 17,200-foot camp to Denali Pass on the West Buttress Route. The fall in this incident started near Denali Pass at top left. NPS Photo

A doctor from Utah has been sentenced following an incident on Denali last season that led to charges of interfering with a rescue, violating a lawful order, and making a false report.

On May 24, 2021, after teaming up at 14,200-foot camp, Dr. Jason Lance, 48, and Adam Rawski began a long summit attempt. Above Denali Pass at 18,200 feet, Rawski slowed notably and showed signs of altitude sickness. Lance left Rawski and continued up; the ill climber was aided by two other climbers in the area. Lance eventually turned back and rejoined the others to descend, but as they prepared to start down from Denali Pass to the 17,200-foot camp—a traversing descent that sees more deadly falls than any other location on the mountain—Rawski suddenly tumbled more than 1,000 feet. Denali rangers quickly responded by helicopter and rescued Rawski, who survived the fall but with serious injuries.

Lance and the two other climbers were still at Denali Pass, and one of the climbers later testified that Lance used Rawski’s inReach device, which he’d taken before heading toward the summit, to message the National Park Service and request a helicopter lift from the pass. According to the Justice Department, he claimed the group did not have proper equipment to descend and then misleadingly claimed the two other climbers were suffering from shock. (One of those climbers testified that he and the other climber were at no time suffering from medical shock, though they were distressed by witnessing Rawski’s fall.) Eventually the three made their way down to the high camp on their own.

According to the Justice Department’s news release, Denali mountaineering ranger Chris Erickson “instructed Dr. Lance to turn over the inReach device so the National Park Service could return it to Rawski or his family.” Lance initially refused to return the device, and subsequently it was discovered that several messages had been deleted from the inReach.

In November 2021, Lance was charged with three misdemeanors, and in March of this year he pleaded guilty to a single charge of violating a lawful order. The other charges were dismissed. The federal magistrate’s sentence included a $5,000 fine, a $5,000 donation to Denali Rescue Volunteers, and a five-year ban from climbing on Denali.

“Impeding the investigation of a near-fatal accident and attempting to secure helicopter rescue under misleading premises evinces a selfishness and indifference to the scarcity of public safety and rescue resources that is unacceptable anywhere, let alone on the tallest peak in North America,” said U.S. Attorney John E. Kuhn Jr.

In a story published in the Anchorage Daily News shortly after the sentencing, Lance denied deleting any messages from the inReach and said he had requested the rescue from Denali Pass because Rawski had been carrying their snow pickets, all three of the climbers were experiencing “psychological shock,” and in his judgment they were showing early signs of hypothermia. Quoted in the newspaper story, Lance said he was relieved that prosecutors “reviewed the information and found I didn’t make any false statements about requesting rescue.”

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WITNESSING A SOLOIST FALL

The Sharp End · I Witnessed A Free Solo Fall (Ep. 77)

It can be scary stuff to watch a free soloist doing her thing. Or to watch Free Solo, for that matter. Now imagine being at the crag when a soloist falls off a climb, less than 50 feet away. That was the experience of Ashley Saupe’s guest for the latest Sharp End podcast. Fortunately, the soloist survived, but the experience was profoundly affecting for everyone at the crag that day.

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The Prescription newsletter is published monthly by the American Alpine Club. Questions? Suggestions? Write to us at [email protected].

The Prescription — April 2022

Ground Fall | Rappel Failure

The Apron, Squamish, British Columbia

On the afternoon of September 3, 2021, Dany Dalpe (29) suffered a 200-foot ground fall from several pitches up on The Apron in Squamish. At the time, Dalpe was a climber with five years of experience. Though he consistently climbed 5.13 sport routes, his multi-pitch experience was limited to two years, mainly on bolted routes around Squamish. His partner (female, 29) was a beginner climber using borrowed gear. This was her first multi-pitch outing.

Around 12:30 p.m. the pair started up Born Again, a link-up combining sections of established routes with new pitches to create “the best protected 5.10 on the Apron.” Its copious protection, bolted belays, and generally forgiving angle made it a fine choice given the team’s limited experience.

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Red line shows the first two pitches of Born Again. Instead of continuing up this route (red arrow), the climbers traversed left and climbed the second pitch of Dream On (yellow line). When their attempt to rappel (yellow arrow) failed, the leader tumbled to the ground. Photo by Kris Wild

To avoid a party climbing above, Dalpe decided to traverse left near the end of the second pitch. After joining Dream On, he found the climbing changed character. The next pitch was less forgiving and had only one protection bolt. At the top of his third lead, Dalpe recalls thinking, “This was not the day I had in mind.” The climbing above appeared even more demanding. “I looked up the next pitch and decided it was not worth it.”

At 1:30 p.m., his climbing partner arrived at the belay, and Dalpe told her they would be descending from there. The partner carried a traditional belay/rappel device, though she was not experienced enough to rappel. Dalpe planned to use his Grigri to lower her and then make a single-line rappel, using her weight at the opposite end of the rope as a counterweight anchor. He untied his partner, threaded the rope end through the rappel rings, retied her, and then used his Grigri to lower her to a prominent ledge. Once there, she traversed to a tree anchor and connected to it with a personal anchor system (PAS). Before lowering her, Dalpe said to his partner, “Go to the tree anchor, clip in, and do nothing.”

Dalpe set his Grigri up to rappel and started down the single strand. Halfway to the tree anchor, the rope became suddenly unweighted and Dalpe fell. He recalls, “I was tumbling and everything went black. Then I hit something…and went black. I hit something again…black. I hit another thing…black. I was probably screaming for five seconds.”

While falling, the rope through Dalpe’s Grigri went slack and, “I saw the rope swirling orange and I kept asking, ‘When am I gonna stop?’ ”

Dalpe hit the ground, rolled a distance, and came to rest at a tree. Climbers approaching the cliff rushed up to help. One called for an ambulance at 1:45 p.m. Another team that was on Born Again rappelled to Dalpe’s partner and lowered her to the ground. At 3:45 p.m., Dalpe was transported by ambulance to the hospital.

He escaped with relatively minor injuries considering his 200-foot tumble (He was not wearing a helmet.) He suffered a broken sternum, two broken bones in the right foot, plus multiple abrasions to his scapula and back of his head.  He spent one month on a couch, and four months later he was climbing 5.13 again. (Sources: Interview with Dany Dalpe and report from British Columbia Emergency Health Services.)

Analysis

It appears the rappel failed when Dalpe’s partner somehow managed to untie her knot as he rappelled the single strand. Later, her half-tied figure-8 was discovered to be cinched tight; her end of the rope with the half-tied knot had pulled through the rappel rings—no doubt slowing Dalpe as he tumbled toward the ground. It seems likely she began to untie as soon as she clipped into the anchor, and that some element of the system temporarily held Dalpe’s weight until he had already committed to the rappel.

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Dany Dalpe, on the road to recovery.

Counterweight systems—simul-rappelling, counter-ascending, or the descent method chosen by Dalpe in this incident—are for experts only. (In fact, accidents involving such systems have claimed even very experienced climbers.) The entire team needs to understand the necessity and process of maintaining a closed system until both parties are on the ground or securely anchored. Given his partner’s limited experience, Dalpe could have made better choices involving the route, equipment, and rappel method.

The transition from single-pitch sport to multi-pitch—even on a mostly bolted climb with solid chain anchors—presents many challenges. First was equipment. This pair was equipped with a single rope and only one belay/rappel device, which necessitated a complex counterweighted rappel when they decided to bail. Another issue was experience. Dalpe’s partner, through no fault of her own, was clearly in over her head.

Dalpe’s physical climbing ability might have contributed indirectly to the accident. Climbing 5.13 after only a few years is an empowering—and often misleading—experience. In a multi-pitch or trad environment, a metric like a sport climbing grade is an inadequate substitute for proper tools, training, and experience. To his credit, Dalpe chose to descend when he recognized they were over their head on this long route. It takes years of practice to develop the skills and judgment to safely lead an inexperienced partner up a multi-pitch climb. (Source: The Editors.)

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Flying Cams

Ancient Art, Fisher Towers, Utah

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Jeff Weinberg on top of Ancient Art. Photo by AAC staffer Robert Hakim

Mo Leuthauser, a climber from Colorado, was starting the last pitch of the Stolen Chimney route on Ancient Art, the spiraling sandstone formation in the Fisher Towers of Utah, when she noticed a soft spot on one of her harness gear loops. She mentioned it to her partner but kept climbing. As she was being lowered from the top of the tower, “I heard a pop and saw my cams and nuts fly off the left side of my harness and hurl hundreds of feet down the tower, toward hikers below. I screamed ‘rock’ as loud as I possibly could, and luckily the hikers were able to get out of the way in time.  No one was hit or injured.”

Leuthauser was using an all-around harness that was about four years old. Although harnesses generally are safe to use for considerably longer (depending on the amount and style of climbing you do), this is a good reminder to inspect all the components of critical gear regularly for wear or damage. Dropping cams this way not only creates a hazard for anyone below, it also could be very expensive! 

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The Sharp End: Episode 75

The Sharp End · Bad Fall, Broken Face (Ep. 75)

It’s the diamond jubilee of Ashley Saupe’s Sharp End podcast, which the AAC helped launch back in 2016, after Ashley approached the club about transforming stories in Accidents in North American Climbing into an interview format. In this month’s show, Ashley interviews climber Joe Lovin about a nasty tumble he took while leaving a Colorado crag, just after sending his first 5.12! As always, it’s an educational and entertaining look at the type of accident that could happen to any of us.

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The monthly Prescription newsletter is supported by the members of the American Alpine Club. Questions? Suggestions? Write to us at [email protected]. 

The Prescription – March 2022

Surviving El Gigante

Mark Hudon and Jordan Cannon

Jordan Cannon and Mark Hudon are headlining the AAC’s Annual Benefit Gala in Denver on March 26, sharing stories of their unique and productive climbing partnership. (Tickets are still available for both the in-person and streamed events—get them here!) We asked these big-wall experts and close friends to share stories of near misses they’ve experienced, and Jordan shared a wild tale from El Gigante, a huge wall in Chihuahua, Mexico.

In January 2019, Jordan and Hayden Jamieson attempted Logical Progression, a 28-pitch 5.13 on El Gigante that’s typically approached from above, by rappelling in and climbing out. Jordan and Hayden stashed gear for two bivouacs on their way down the wall and then started climbing back out. The first two days went well, as they worked on the crux pitches and bivouacked eight pitches up….

Photo by Hayden Jamieson

“Day 3 was where things took a turn for the worse,” Hayden wrote in a story at the Gnarly Nutrition website. “I was woken at sunrise to the unwelcome sensation of light rain on my face.” The two continued up the wall, aiming for their next bivy cache at the top of pitch 17. But the rain kept getting stronger, and by pitch 14, they were in trouble. “We had nearly no food, very little water, we were still 200 to 300 feet below our next stash of food, the rain was getting heavier, and our clothes were saturated with water down to our underwear… Several microwave-sized blocks were blown off the wall from above and narrowly missed both of us.” The two 5.13 climbers found it impossible to climb run-out 5.11. They were stuck.

In pounding rain, they set up their portaledge and rigged their haul bag on bolts above them to guard against rockfall. But they were already soaked. “That night was certainly the longest, coldest, and most terrifying night of either of our lives,” Hayden wrote. “We shivered uncontrollably and spooned each other for warmth as the storm raged all around us.” Luckily, the clouds cleared in the morning, and they made their way up the rock by any means necessary, refueled at their food cache, and pushed to the top, 16 hours after leaving their bivouac.

Happy to be alive. Photo by Hayden Jamieson

LESSONS LEARNED

Says Jordan: “I think we were very close to dying of hypothermia, waiting it out in a poor position with inadequate gear. All of which could have easily been avoided if I had taken a note out of Mark Hudon’s book on big wall preparedness! Thankfully, I learned my lesson and even picked up some more wall tips from Mark during our time climbing together after that trip.”

Here are some of the things Jordan has learned about preparing for storms on big walls:

1. Never bring down sleeping bags (or down jackets, if you can help it). Always synthetic, because it will keep you warm even when it’s wet.

2. Always bring a bivy sack. Even when you think you won’t need it. (We, stupidly, decided to leave ours on the summit before we rapped the wall.)

3. Make sure your rain fly is in good condition. Ours was old and had holes in it, so it leaked.

4. Always bring some sort of emergency kit consisting of a rain jacket, rain pants, base layers (top and bottoms), hat, gloves, and warm socks. You likely won’t use any of it, but if you do, you'll be glad to have it!

5. Bring an inReach or some kind of satellite phone, especially if the wall is remote.

6. In the face of bad weather, it’s better to hunker down before a storm rather than waiting for it to hit and getting wetter than necessary in the process.

Mark Hudon (top) and Jordan Cannon in Zion National Park. Photo by Samuel Crossley

“Don't underestimate the seriousness of big wall climbing and the threat of inclement weather, especially on a remote big wall in Mexico in the dead of winter. (But in Yosemite, too!) Even if it is just ‘big wall sport climbing,’ that doesn't mean it’s will be casual. Always be prepared for the worst!”

Mark Hudon has been climbing big walls since the late 1970s and has compiled some of his expertise into excellent downloadable PDFs at his website. And remember, you can see Mark and Jordan together at the AAC’s Annual Benefit Gala on March 26. Don’t miss it!

El Cap Stories

As Jordan Cannon says, you don’t have to be in a remote canyon in Mexico to get into serious trouble when a storm hits a wall. The pages of ANAC have reported many such incidents from El Capitan over the years. Here are two examples:

• In September 1991, “the first winter storm of the season moved into the Central Sierra, dropping 4.5 inches of rain at lower elevations with snow level reaching 4,000 feet.” Two pairs of very experienced climbers ended up getting rescued from hard El Cap routes: One had been trapped in a run-off waterfall on the Sea of Dreams route, and the other was nearing the top of Native Son when one of the climbers got hypothermia.

 • In late May 1993, two climbers were trapped at Camp 5 on The Nose after heavy rain fell all day, causing mild hypothermia. Rescuers were able to lower about 800 feet from the rim to their position, give them dry clothes, and help them jumar out.  

A survey of 41 years of ANAC reports on The Nose (from 1974 to 2014) found that about one-quarter of all accidents involved weather and stranding. The “Danger Zones” article from ANAC 2015 focused on the major accident causes on the Nose: Read it here!

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The Sharp End: Deadly Avalanche

In the latest Sharp End, Ken Wylie, author of the book Buried, recounts a horrific accident near Revelstoke, British Columbia, in January 2003.

The Sharp End · Buried By Ken Wylie (Ep. 74)

If you’re a Sharp End fan, don’t miss the AAC’s Annual Benefit Gala on March 26. Ashley Saupe will be hosting a live interview for an upcoming show. In-person and streaming tickets are available here!

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The monthly Prescription newsletter is supported by the members of the American Alpine Club. Questions? Suggestions? Write to us at [email protected].

The Prescription - February 2022

FALL FROM ANCHOR | TETHER CLIPPED INCORRECTLY

Arizona, Cochise Stronghold, Owl Rock

On the afternoon of January 31, 2021, Tim Parker (35) suffered a ground fall from the anchor above Naked Prey (5.12a) in Cochise Stronghold. Parker is a climber with over 15 years of experience. His partner, Darcy Mullen (32), is a climber of over 10 years. They are both mountaineering instructors for an international outdoor education organization.

The pair had decided to finish their day with several pitches on Owl Rock, a pinnacle with several high-quality one-pitch routes. Mullen led Nightstalker (5.9), a classic mixed gear/bolt route on the lower-angle front side of Owl Rock. She built an anchor and belayed Parker to the top.

Mullen rappelled the overhanging backside of the pinnacle, passing over the line of Naked Prey. Parker then rigged the two-bolt anchor with a quad cordelette in order to top-rope Naked Prey, and Mullen lowered him to the base of the climb. He then top-roped the route. Back on top, Parker decided it made more sense to rappel than be lowered due to the location of the anchor bolts.

Quad cordelette rigged at the rappel anchor on Owl Rock, as found the day after the accident. The carabiner on the shelf of the cordelette is still in place and locked.

For an anchor tether, he used a double-length sewn nylon runner girth-hitched around both hard points on his harness. Parker had pre-rigged the tether with two overhand knots, dividing the sling into three segments, to allow for various clip-in points and for extending his rappel device. He used a locking carabiner to clip the tether into the shelf of the cordelette anchor. Unbeknownst to him, the carabiner was not properly clipped to his tether, but this fact would not be revealed for several minutes. Parker did a visual double-check of his connection, asked for slack, and weighted the new system. With nearly full body weight on the tether and the carabiner locked, he told Mullen to take him off belay. After doing so, she walked around the formation to Nightstalker’s base, where she began packing their gear.

Meanwhile, Parker untied from the rope and threaded it through the rappel anchors, then pulled the rope through the rings until both ends were on the ground. Approximately five minutes after taking her partner off belay, Mullen heard a yell and watched Parker fall from the top of the climb. He free-fell approximately 60 feet, then fell another 30 feet down lower-angled rock (70–80°) before hitting the ground.

Mullen found him lying on his back. His head was approximately one foot away from a small boulder. A trained Wilderness First Responder, Mullen stabilized Parker until a nearby climbing party arrived to help. The other climbers dialed 911. The time was 5 p.m. Mullen then directed the other climbers to help take vital signs and stabilize Parker until paramedics arrived at about 5:30 p.m. He was airlifted to Banner University Medical Center in Tucson.

Parker spent about three and a half weeks in the hospital and rehab center, with many broken bones, extensive abrasions, a mild traumatic brain injury, a nearly severed left ear, and nerve damage. After being discharged, Parker spent about two and a half months in a wheelchair and another month on crutches. Though still recovering, he was able to return to working on expedition and climbing courses in November 2021.

ANALYSIS

Reconstruction of the Owl Rock anchor showing how an overhand knot in the tether sling likely jammed on the locking carabiner and held the climber’s weight temporarily. From the climber’s perspective, the sling appeared to be properly clipped.

Due to some memory loss from the accident, the precise cause of the fall—and the five to ten minutes leading up to it—can only be hypothesized. Parker believes he initially clipped the end of his tether into the cordelette but that this connection was too long to give him easy access to the anchor. He must have tried to shorten his tether by clipping the second knotted loop of the sling.

After the accident, his locking carabiner remained clipped to the cordelette and locked shut. The tether was not compromised in any way. Parker assumes that when he tried to clip in, he pushed the knot through the opening of the locking carabiner but did not clip the actual loop of webbing. When he weighted the system, it is believed the knot jammed against the edge of the carabiner just enough to hold his weight. Parker’s rappel device was still clipped to a gear loop on his harness after the fall. Likely the knot in the tether popped through the carabiner when his body weight shifted as he reached for the device.

Parker and Mullen recreated this scenario at home. They noted that while it was difficult to fully weight a knot placed in the carabiner this way, when it was set in a particular spot the knot could hold weight (especially when lodged in a smaller D-shaped locking carabiner). Once loaded, the jammed knot appeared similar to a properly clipped and loaded tether.

Many aspects of this accident line up with themes in other descending accidents. Since this was the last climb of the day, they felt pressure to depart for the two-hour drive back to Tucson. The couple were also about to start a three-week outdoor education course. Such transitions can be stressful and distracting. Parker reflected that the accident’s primary cause was complacency, as he ultimately failed to catch his own mistake.

Other aspects are important as well. Parker had used his tether system many times, but more often for rappelling multi-pitch climbs. Using a new system—or an old system in a new context—raises a yellow flag that should be recognized. Perhaps the better option would have been to rig the system he used more commonly for cleaning bolted anchors on sport climbs. The only reason he used the system in question was because it was already rigged from his previous climb on Nightstalker.

Lastly, Parker was not wearing a helmet. This was a conscious decision. Before this accident, he regularly wore a helmet while leading and/or when concerned about overhead hazards. But since Naked Prey is a short, steep pitch on small pinnacle of rock, rockfall was not an issue. As he was top-roping, there was little to no chance of hitting his head in a fall. Of all of the miracles herein, the greatest might be his avoidance of serious brain damage and/or death. Parker now wears his helmet in all outdoor roped climbing contexts. (Sources: Tim Parker and Darcy Mullen.)

EDITOR’S NOTES

Redundancy: Whether you clip an anchor with the rope, quickdraws, slings, or a commercial PAS, it usually takes little effort or extra gear to create a redundant connection. It’s true that climbers rely on equipment with zero redundancy all the time, including the belay loop on your harness or the rope while you’re climbing, lowering, or rappelling. But there’s seldom a good reason not to double up at an anchor.

Check It! Accidents and near misses with inadequate anchor connections occasionally involve outside forces (rockfall, for example). But most of the time they can be prevented by double- and triple-checking your connection.

Take it from Dougald MacDonald, past editor of ANAC: “One of my scariest moments in four-plus decades of climbing came during a long series of rappels with two partners in the French Alps. Midway through the descent, with all three of us perched on a sloping ice-covered ledge, one of the climbers hissed at me, “Do you know you’re not attached to anything?” In our rush to get down, I had unclipped from the ropes on the previous rappel without ever clipping the anchor. Fortunately, neither a nudge from my partners, a slip on my crampons, nor a gust of wind pushed me off the tiny ledge.”

Personal tether tied with a water knot that came undone at a rappel anchor on the Grand Teton in 2016, causing a tragic accident. NPS Photo

From the Archives: Here are two incidents from past ANACs indicating ways climbers can be disconnected from anchors. Tragically, both of these ended with fatal injuries.

PAS Disconnected on Half Dome’s Snake Dike (ANAC 2016)

Knotted Sling Comes Undone on Grand Teton (ANAC 2017)

In all of the cases discussed here, a closer look at the anchor connection might have prevented a disastrous accident. 

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THE SHARP END: AN UNPLANNED BIVY

In Episode 73 of the Sharp End Podcast, Ashley and Christian Kiefer discuss a cold, uncomfortable, and unexpected night out at 13,000 feet on Mt. Emerson in California’s Sierra Nevada.

The Sharp End · An Unplanned Bivy At 13,000 Feet (Ep. 73)

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The monthly Prescription newsletter is supported by the members of the American Alpine Club. Questions? Suggestions? Write to us at [email protected]. 

Rewind the Climb: Pete Schoening’s Miracle Belay on K2

by Grey Satterfield

artwork by James Adams

photos from the Dee Molenaar Collection

It happens every day, in every climbing gym across the country: the belay check. It can swell up a wave of anxiety for new climbers or a wave of frustration for more experienced ones, but no matter where you are in your climbing journey, you’ve done it. Everyone has demonstrated their ability to stop a falling climber. But what about stopping two climbers? What about stopping five? And what about stopping five without the convenience of a Gri-Gri, in a raging storm at 8,000 meters, hanging off the side of the second highest mountain in the world?

Pete Schoening checks all those boxes, and his miracle belay during an early attempt of K2 is one of the most famous in all of climbing history. It’s an awesome reminder that in climbing, much like in life, a lot of things change, but a lot of things don’t.

In 1953, during the third American expedition to K2, eight climbers funded by the American Alpine Club built their high camp at nearly 7,700m. The team consisted of Pete Schoening, Charles Houston, Robert Bates, George Bell, Robert Craig, Art Gilkey, Dee Molenaar, and Tony Streather.

On the seventh day of the ascent, climbing without oxygen, Schoening and his partners were within reach of the summit. With the first ascent of the long-sought peak tantalizingly close, the weather turned, trapping the climbers for10 days at nearly 8,000m. The storm raged on, destroying tents and dwindling supplies. Then Gilkey developed thrombophlebitis—a life-threatening condition of blood clots brought on by high altitude. If these clots made it into his lungs, he’d die. The team had no choice but to descend. Without hesitation, they abandoned the summit attempt and put themselves to work getting Gilkey to safety. With an 80mph blizzard compounding their effort, the climbing team bundled their injured comrade in a sleeping bag and a tent and, belayed by Schoening, began to lower him down the perilous walls of rock and ice.

After an exhausting day of descending, they had made it only 300m but were in sight of Camp VII, which was perched on a ledge another 180m further across the icy slope. Craig was the first to reach the site and began building camp. Then the real disaster struck.

As Bell was working his way across the steep face, he slipped and began to rocket down the side of the mountain. Bell was tied to Streather, who was also pulled off his feet and down the slope. The rope between the two climbers then became entangled with those connecting the team of Bates, Houston, and Molenaar, pulling them off in turn. The five climbers, along with the tethered Gilkey, began careening down the near vertical face, rag-dolling down the mountain over 100m and speeding towards the edge: a 2,000m fall to the glacier below.

At the last second—as the weight of six climbers slammed into him— Schoening thrust his ice axe into the snow behind a boulder and, with a hip belay, brought the climbers to a stop. The nylon rope (a relatively new piece of climbing gear at the time) went taught and shrank to half its diameter, but it did not snap. The hickory axe held the strain. Schoening, rope wrapped tightly around his shoulders, had performed what is considered one of the greatest saves in mountaineering history—known now and forever known as “The Belay.”

“When you get into something like mountain climbing,” Schoening said afterwards, “I’m sure you do things automatically. It’s a mechanical func- tion. You do it when necessary without giving it a thought of how or why.”

However, the incident was not without tragedy. As the team recovered from the fall and established a forced bivy, they discovered that Gilkey, bundled in sleeping bag and tent, had vanished. There is speculation that he cut himself free in order to save the lives of his friends above.

Schoening, always humble about the feat, was later awarded the David A. Sowles Memorial Award for his heroics by the American Alpine Club in 1981 as a “mountaineer who has distinguished himself, with unselfish devotion at personal risk or sacrifice of a major objective, in going to the assistance of fellow climbers imperiled in the mountains.”

Fifty-three years later, in 2006, 28 descendants of the surviving team gathered, calling themselves “The Children of ‘The Belay.’” All owed their lives to Schoening—and his ice axe—high on K2. The axe, which some have called the holy grail of mountaineering artifacts, is on permanent display at the American Mountaineering Museum in Golden, Colorado.

Much has changed in the world of climbing over the past 70 years. When Schoening headed up K2 in 1953, assisted-braking belay devices were yet to be invented. The AAC provided no rescue services as a benefit of membership. Nobody owned an InReach or a satellite phone. To survive in the mountains in that era was to rely solely on your team—on the trust that comes with tying in together and the knowledge that a friend is watching your back.

So we would do well to remember Pete Schoening and his belay—to hold the other end of the rope is a serious affair. The next time you go out climbing, don’t forget to give your belayer a high-five and a hug.

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Grey Satterfield is the digital marketing manager for the AAC. He has a decade of experience managing climbing gyms and loves to share his passion for climbing with anyone who will listen, be it through writing, photography, or swapping stories around the campfire.

In Search of Yosemite's Heart: One Writer's Journey Into the Valley of Giants

by Lauren DeLaunay Miller

photos by the Ellie Hawkins and Molly Higgins collections

Ellie Hawkins during an early ascent of the North America Wall, 1973, Yosemite National Park, CA. Land of the Central Sierra Miwok people. Keith Nannery.

To steal from author John Green, I fell in love with rock climbing the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once. I was an indoorsy undergraduate at the University of North Carolina when I fell face-first into the world of climbing, thanks in large part to a picture in a magazine. My love for climbing has always been attached to an obsession with Yosemite, that ultimate proving ground of American rock climbers, but before I could make my way out there myself, I tried as hard as I could to connect with that world while still confined to the walls of libraries in Chapel Hill. Climbing literature was my portal, but it didn’t take long to exhaust my options. I don’t know if I could have articulated to you then why—or even that I was—searching for books written by women, but what I did know was that I was going to learn as much as I could about my heroes and try as best as I could to follow in their footsteps.

Five years after graduating, I moved into my new home in the back of Camp 4. The Yosemite Search & Rescue site has a mystical, magical air. To walk into the site is to, quite literally, walk in the footsteps of giants. I’ve climbed at a lot of American climbing destinations, from the New and Red River Gorges in the East, to Indian Creek, Joshua Tree, Red Rock Canyon, and Rocky Mountain National Park, but nowhere have I found the lore as strong as in Yosemite.

At my now-local crag, we often refer to routes as “that 10b arete” or “the 5.11 crack to the left of the 12a.” But in Yosemite, routes have names. Astroman, the Central Pillar of Frenzy, Steck-Salathé, The Nose! We know their first ascensionists, and we know their stories. And these stories get passed down, sometimes in writing but often at campfires and dinner parties, fueled by whiskey or coffee or both. So while it didn’t take long for me to realize that there was a gap between the women’s stories I was hearing and those I was reading, it did take me a few years to muster up the courage to try to close that gap myself.

The idea for the book lived quietly in my head, but as it became louder and louder, I started to shyly share it with my climbing partners. “Don’t you think it would be cool,” I’d mutter, “if there were a whole book about women climbing in Yosemite?” The more I shared my vision, the more it grew. I started scanning old climbing magazines, making lists of the women I’d need to include. Friends started sending me articles they came across, screenshots of Supertopo forums and Mountain Project threads. I spent days at the new Yosemite Climbing Association museum in Mariposa going through thousands of pages of old magazines. At first, everything was centered on building “the list,” my dream list of contributors, and eventually I thought it might just be enough to submit as a book proposal.

Ellie Hawkins gets prepped for the void on the first ascent of Dyslexia (VI 5.10d A4), completed solo, 1985. Bruce Hawkins

I’ve always been the type of person who gets stuck on an idea and can’t shake it until I’ve seen it through. When I started climbing, I gave myself five years to climb El Cap, even though at the time I barely knew how to belay. Nearly every decision I made from that moment propelled me toward my goal, and I recognized the same level of obsession once I became hooked on the idea for this book. I made my proposal and sent it off to three publishing companies. I was living in a tent cabin in Camp 4 by then, and while my own world was consumed by Yosemite, I didn’t know if my idea would resonate outside of my community. But my first conversation with Emily White at Mountaineers Books soothed my concerns, and I knew my project would be safe under her supervision. I signed on the dotted line; I had just over a year to make this thing happen.

I started with the people I knew or could get personal introductions to. I met with Babsi Zangerl in her campervan in the Valley, and she was eager to be a part of the book. That was the moment I thought that I might actually be able to pull this off. Soon, Liz Robbins called, thanks to some coaxing by Ken Yager at the Yosemite Climbing Association. I drew on all the connections I’d made through my climbing career, and every response gave me a jolt of electricity. Fourteen months later, I turned in everything I had: 38 stories, totaling over 76,000 words.

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Molly Higgins and Barb Eastman atop El Cap after the first all-female ascent of The Nose, 1977. Larry Bruce

Molly Higgins leading to The Nose’s famous feature, the Great Roof. AAC member Barb Eastman

When Molly Higgins mentioned to Lauren that she had some old boxes of slides from her time in Yosemite, Lauren knew she had to see them. Prepared to see some faded, blurry images at best, she unearthed dozens of boxes—slide after slide of perfectly preserved photographs documenting some of the most courageous ascents of a generation, including images from the first all-female ascent of The Nose on El Cap in 1977. With the tremendous help of the AAC Library, Lauren organized Molly’s collection into an online exhibit which can be viewed at here.

Ellie Hawkins—the other photo contributer for this piece—might not be a household name in the world of Yosemite climbing, but she certainly should be. She’s the only woman to ever establish a Yosemite big wall first ascent completely solo, with Dyslexia (VI 5.10d A4) in the Ribbon Falls Amphitheater. The route was aptly named. Ellie battled a terrible case of dyslexia that often complicated her climbing. Despite these challenges, an early ascent of El Cap’s North America Wall (5.8 C3) and a solo of Never Never Land (5.10a) earned Ellie’s place among the Valley’s legends. Lauren was able to digitize and preserve Ellie’s collection of slides and prints as well, a few of which are featured here.

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One of the greatest gifts of working on this book came in the form of a few phone conversations with Liz Robbins. Liz is the author of one of my favorite pieces in the book, a story written years ago for Alpinist magazine that tells of her experience establishing the first ascent of The Nutcracker Suite (5.8), the first route in Yosemite to be climbed entirely on clean protection. The Nutcracker, as it is commonly known today, was the first route I ever climbed in Yosemite, years before I ended up working on the Search & Rescue team. Having driven all through the night from the mountain West, across the wide open sagebrush of Nevada, up through the winding granite slabs of Tuolumne, and down, at long last, to Yosemite Valley, I woke up at dawn, claimed my spot in Camp 4, and went straight to the Manure Pile Buttress. I once read that a “classic” climb must be at least one, if not all, of these three things: aesthetically pleasing, historically significant, and full of spectacular climbing. The Nutcracker Suite has it all, and it made for an unforgettable first Yosemite experience.

Ellie Hawkins on a solo ascent of Never Never Land (5.10a), Yosemite Valley National Park, CA. Land of the Central Sierra Miwok people. Bruce Hawkins

It’s been more than five years since that first Valley climb, and when I told Liz about my experience climbing it, we realized that because of her and Royal’s decision not to place pitons, the route climbs just about the same way today as it did during her first ascent. Of course, it is greasy with chalk and rubber from thousands of ascents, but it is not scarred the way other Yosemite routes are. Where I smeared, Liz had smeared, and where I stuffed my fingers in the crack, so had she.

Barb Eastman walking out the infamous Thank God Ledge during the first all-female ascent of Half Dome’s Regular Northwest Face(5.9C1),1976. AAC member Molly Higgins

At the end of the story, Liz expresses the mental tug-of-war she often engaged in when climbing. Her doubts about her abilities echoed my own insecurities about the making of this book. Who was I to engage in such an important project? But, as did Liz, I found time and time again that I’d yet to come across the problem that demanded more of me than I could give. Of course, this book is not perfect. There are holes—gaping ones—ones that jump out at me baring teeth and ones that, surely, I will see more clearly with time. But soon we will have in our hands the stories of 38 women who have, at one time or another, found themselves at the center of Yosemite climbing. We start in 1938 and run smack into the present, and it would horrify my editor if she knew that I were still adding stories the day before my first draft was due. But just as Steck & Roper implored us to think of their 50 Classic Climbs as some classic climbs and not the classic climbs, so too do these stories tell of the experiences of some women, not the women. Because there are so many more stories, so many more voices, so many more experiences worth telling and retelling. And as Liz so eloquently writes: I’ve only just begun the excavation.

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Lauren DeLaunay Miller served on the Yosemite Search & Rescue team while completing her book, Valley of Giants: Stories from Women at the Heart of Yosemite Climbing (Mountaineers Books, Spring 2022), an anthology of stories that document the history of women’s climbing in Yosemite National Park. Lauren lives in Bishop, CA where she is a founding board member of the Bishop Climbers Coalition and Coordinator for the AAC’s Bishop Highball Craggin’ Classic. She is currently pursuing her master’s degree in Journalism at the University of California in Berkeley.

The Prescription - January 2022

TRIGGERED SLAB | INCONSISTENT SNOW DEPTH

Montana, Absaroka Range, Republic Mountain

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Three of the six skiers on this tour were avalanched into dangerous tree-covered slopes.

The following report analyzes an avalanche incident one year ago in Montana. This report was included in the new backcountry avalanche section in the 2021 edition of Accidents in North American Climbing. There are some great lessons here for backcountry travelers this winter.

On the morning of January 8, 2021, a group of six skiers (one female and five males) met in Cooke City, Montana, and decided to ski the Fin on Republic Mountain. None of them had been to this particular slope or mountain before. All members carried an avalanche transceiver, shovel, and probe, and three were wearing helmets. Two carried avalanche airbag packs. All had at least some avalanche education. They had read the local avalanche forecast the day before, but not the day of this incident (the danger had not changed).

On their ascent, visibility was poor and they could not see the entire slope or the ridge line they intended to climb. As they left the trees, they dug two pits and performed [stability] tests. One later wrote, “Though we identified potential weak layers at 60 cm and a deeper one…we got minimal failure and no propagation. What we saw in the pits was a nice right-side-up snowpack. However, we knew if we skinned along the ridge to the southwest, the snowpack would change due to wind exposure. We discussed mitigating this by skinning close to the ridge and skiing back down our skin track if we saw warning signs.”

As they continued and “when those in the skin track crossed over a wind lip into a slightly more southerly aspect,” they felt the slope collapse and watched a crack propagate 250 feet upslope. The avalanche broke 1.5 to two feet deep, 200 feet wide, and ran 700 feet vertically. Skiers 1 and 2 were carried the full distance to the base of the slope. Skier 3 was carried about midway downslope. Skier 4 was at the edge of the slide and able to hold their position, and Skiers 5 and 6 were further back in the skin track.

Skier 1 deployed his airbag and was partially buried. He freed himself from the debris and began a transceiver search. He followed the signal to Skier 2, whose head was buried more than two feet deep; the skier was unconscious and not breathing. Skier 1 cleared Skier 2’s airway, and Skier 2 began breathing and regained consciousness. Skier 2 sustained injuries to his leg, but later made it out under his own power.

Skiers 4, 5, and 6 quickly skied down to help Skier 3, who was partially buried about halfway down the slide path and sustained serious injuries to his ribs and lungs. Skiers 4 and 6 had two-way radios and called for help. (There is no cell service in this region.) They were able to contact someone with a radio in Cooke City, who reported it to Park County Search and Rescue. Because Skier 3 could not move, the group eventually congregated at Skier 3’s position, where they built a fire and waited for rescuers. Skier 3 was evacuated by helicopter at about 4 p.m., and the rest of the party was able to get out under their own power with the help of rescuers.

ANALYSIS

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Investigating the Republic Mountain avalanche one day after the slide.

The avalanche occurred on an east aspect at 9,700 feet. The average slope angle was 37 degrees (33 degrees at the crown). The mountains near Cooke City had received heavy snow in October and November, which formed a dense, two- to four-foot-deep snowpack on many slopes. In late November to December, minimal snowfall and cold temperatures led to the formation of weak layers of sugary facets on some slopes, especially where the snowpack was relatively shallow. These layers were buried by subsequent heavy snowfall in late December, followed by small storms through the first week of January.

The skiers dug a six-foot-deep snow pit close to where the avalanche was triggered. They found good snow structure and good stability in their pit, which investigators confirmed the next day when they dug in the same spot. Approximately 100 feet away, with a slight change in aspect, the snowpack thinned from six feet to two to three feet deep. This thin area is where they initiated a fracture in the faceted grains.

In a video produced after the investigation at the accident scene (see video below) and in comments to viewers, Doug Chabot of Gallatin National Forest Avalanche Center [and a former AAC board member] warned skiers to “be really careful and paying attention to if the snowpack is changing as you’re skinning along. As soon as [these skiers] wrapped around to a slightly different aspect, the depth and snow structure changed. A stability test is one of many pieces of info that goes into deciding whether to ski or not. A poor test result is enough to turn around, yet the absence of that is not a green light to move forward…. The bottom line is that you should know that the snow is very stable if you are considering entering large, highly consequential avalanche terrain like the Fin.” (Source: Gallatin National Forest Avalanche Center.)

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AVALANCHE COVERAGE IN ANAC: WHAT DO YOU THINK?

The 2021 edition of Accidents in North American Climbing introduced a new section of reports on backcountry skiing and snowboarding avalanches. Accidents has always covered mountaineering avalanches (including some ski mountaineering incidents), but the new 15-page section expanded our coverage to backcountry ski touring and snowboarding terrain, with 10 detailed reports and photos from December 2020 to April 2021. We’d like to know what you think: Did you read the new avalanche section? Did you think it was helpful and educational? Do you think this section was an appropriate use of pages in ANAC, or should the book stick exclusively with its traditional subject matter? Please fill out the 2 minutes survey. Thank you!

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BACKCOUNTRY MEDICINE ON YOUR PHONE

Wilderness Medicine Reference is an information-packed app with diagnosis and treatment recommendations for many backcountry medical situations, plus prevention and evacuation checklists and strategies. Created by Karen Lapides, a longtime Colorado-based paramedic, wilderness medicine instructor, and Outward Bound mountaineering course director, the app is aimed at backcountry travelers with little medical training up to those with wilderness EMT certification. Nothing can replace formal wilderness medical training and practice, but for just 99 cents, this app offers an inexpensive and convenient field reference or backup.

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THE SHARP END: GROUND FALL NEAR LAKE TAHOE

In Episode 72 of the Sharp End Podcast, climber Kyle Broxterman describes a serious trad climbing accident near Lake Tahoe, California. His attempt on a 5.11 trad climb ended when he fell and pulled out three wired nuts he’d placed for protection. Hear why Kyle is taking a step back from letting his ego drive his climbing and how he is managing his recovery from a terrible fall.

The Sharp End · Pulling Pieces In California - (Ep. 72)

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The monthly Prescription newsletter is supported by adidas Outdoor and the members of the American Alpine Club. Questions? Suggestions? Write to us at [email protected].

Myths of the Alpine: An Interview with Author Katie Ives

Katie Ives, Editor in Chief at Alpinist, just published her first book, Imaginary Peaks: The Riesenstein Hoax and Other Mountain Dreams. The AAC sat down with Katie Ives to explore her journey as a writer, her connection to climbing, and the inspiration for her book.

Explore the exhibit below that includes highlights from our interview and assets from the AAC Library that supplement Ives’ book.

*This story is best told with the help of vibrant and dynamic photography. Dive into this Spark Exhibit to see these photos come alive alongside this story.

The Prescription - December 2021

The north face of Pioneer Peak, showing the route attempted in the incident below. X marks approximate site of the anchor where the climbers were impacted by avalanches. Photo by Cecil Sanders

The Prescription - December 2021

Alaska, Chugach Mountains, Pioneer Peak

Two Avalanches – Rope Cut, Anchor Unclipped

We know that many people don’t read every single report in Accidents—particularly ones that are far from home and more than three pages long. But we want to call your attention to the story highlighted here, both for the lessons it imparts and for the drama of the events—fortunately they ended without a fatality or very serious injuries. A condensed outline follows. We highly recommend reading the full report, starting on page 20 of this year’s book or at this page on our publications website.

On April 15, Fallon Connolly, 26, and Simon Frez-Albrecht, age 28 (both experienced climbers), started up the nearly 6,000-foot north face of Pioneer Peak, northeast of Anchorage, at 5:45 a.m. It had been 37°F at the car. Near the second ice band on the long snow and ice route, about 4,000 feet above the start, Fallon observed signs of what appeared to be fairly recent avalanches on the gully walls. Simon was about 50 feet ahead of Fallon and had nearly reached a position to anchor for the next pitch when he noticed a very small wet loose avalanche come tumbling over the ice above. He yelled down to warn Fallon. Simon was standing to one side of the gully, and it didn’t hit him, but it all washed directly over Fallon; she planted both tools firmly and put her head down to let the snow pass. They estimated the flow lasted 60 seconds.

After the flow stopped, Fallon continued up to where Simon was waiting and they moved together perhaps 50 feet up and to the opposite side of the gully, where there were some obvious cracks in the rock. Here they built an anchor and, given what they had observed, prepared to descend from this point. Simon bounce-tested their bail anchor and then set up their brand-new 7.8mm ropes (pink and green) and threaded them through his device for a rappel. Fallon also pre-rigged her device on the rappel ropes. A number 2 Camalot they had placed temporarily was clipped to the ropes as backup, with a non-locker on a 60cm sling. Fallon remained clipped to the cord masterpoint in the anchor with a locking carabiner as Simon began to rappel. When Simon was about halfway down, Fallon yelled to warn him about another avalanche coming over the ice pitch above.

What followed was an extraordinary “series of unfortunate events”:

Brand-new rope cut during this incident.

• Fallon was knocked off her feet by the slide and left hanging from her tether clipped to the anchor. Her gloves and glasses disappeared.

• Their pink rappel rope broke (likely cut against a sharp edge of rock), but the knot joining the ropes jammed in Fallon’s pre-rigged rappel device, keeping the other rope attached to her and thus to the anchor.

• Simon was pummeled by avalanche debris for one to three minutes. Only a tangle in the green rope kept him from being pulled to the end of the rope by the debris.

• As the slide ended, Fallon stood up at the anchor. Before she could reinforce her tether or anchor the green rope, a second avalanche rumbled over the ice above. This time, Fallon was pulled from the anchor and tumbled down the slope.

Damage to Fallon’s harness when she was hit by avalanches at the rappel stance on Pioneer Peak. The harness likely would have sustained many kilonewtons of force to be damaged this way, yet both it and the anchor held.

• Simon heard and saw the second slide coming and was able to shelter behind a rock outcrop, yet the debris plucked him from this stance and he fell another 100 feet down the snow gully. Fallon slid and tumbled a total of 300 to 400 feet.

Very fortunately, neither climber was buried, swept all the way down the mountain, or seriously injured, and they were able to self-rescue to the road.

In his analysis of the incident, Simon outlined numerous important but subtle clues they missed when they decided to climb this route on a relatively warm day. “We felt we had pieced together enough information to make an informed decision,” he wrote. “I suspected the shed cycle had already happened in the previous warm, sunny days, so there wouldn’t be a significant amount of loose/available snow left on the mountain to slide onto us. I didn’t consider that the freezing at night had been enough to keep the snow locked in place, poised above us.

“Probably the single most obvious clue we missed,” he continued, “was that it had stayed cloudy the night before our climb, preventing the radiant cooling that had dropped night time temps in the previous days. This kept the snowpack wet and near the tipping point when the weak sun struck the face for a couple of hours through the clouds.”

Ten days after the accident, in colder conditions, Simon climbed back to their anchor to try to determine what had happened. He found a sharp edge where the pink rope, oscillating under load during the slide, likely had cut. However, most of the anchor was intact. Fallon’s tether and locking carabiner, which had fallen with her during the second avalanche, also were undamaged. “Why had she come unclipped from the anchor?” Simon wondered. “The only conclusion we can draw is that the screw-gate locker with which Fallon clipped her tether to the master point must have jiggled to the unlocked position during the first avalanche. Then, when she unweighted the tether, the locker must have shifted into a position where it could unclip itself when the second avalanche pushed her back onto her tether.”

A mock setup of pre-rigged rappel devices, where two climbers have set up both of their rappel devices before the first starts down. (Anchor tethers and backups are omitted for clarity.) Click the photo to find a good article exploring the pros and cons of pre-rigging rappels. Photo courtesy of AlpineSavvy.com

Simon might have slid all the way down the mountain during the first avalanche, when the pink rope broke, except for one extra step the two took while preparing to rappel. “Over the last year or two, I have been making a conscious effort to increase my safety margin while climbing,” Simon wrote. “This includes tying knots in the ends of ropes during rappels, using a rappel backup, and using autolocking carabiners and assisted braking belay devices more often. I had recently been toying with pre-rigging rappel devices as well, but was not doing this consistently. For whatever reason, this was one of those times we pre-rigged Fallon’s belay device on the rope, and by snagging the knot joining the ropes after our pink rope cut, it happened to keep me alive.”

Again, we encourage you to read the full report in ANAC 2021 or find it here. We’re grateful to climbers like Simon and Fallon who choose to share such stories, which can be painful or even embarrassing to recount. They teach us that the little things sometimes can make all the difference.

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VIA FERRATA LANYARDS RECALLED

In mid-November, Petzl announced a recall of Scorpio Eashook via ferrata lanyards, sold either individually or as part of a via ferrata kit (lanyard, harness, helmet), because of possible malfunctions in the lanyard’s carabiners. The recall affects lanyards with certain serial numbers and manufactured since January 1, 2021; customers who purchased these lanyards are urged to stop using them immediately. See Petzl’s website for details and compensation information.

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ROCKFALL AND RESCUE IN ZION NATIONAL PARK

Aaron, 42, and Ian, 16 are a father-son team of adventurous climbers from Tucson, Arizona. In June 2021, with lots of exploratory climbing experience under their belts, they headed to Zion National Park to attempt a relatively obscure route on a cliff informally known as Mt. Greer. On the 12th pitch, gunning for the top of the formation, Aaron was leading a gully and chimney system when the rock under his feet crumbled, sending sandstone blocks tumbling down the gully toward his son. Listen to the new Sharp End podcast to hear all about how they got into this predicament—and how they got out.

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The monthly Prescription newsletter is supported by adidas Outdoor and the members of the American Alpine Club. Questions? Suggestions? Write to us at [email protected].