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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.

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.

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.

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. 

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.

 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.

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].

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.

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.”

WITNESSING A SOLOIST FALL

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.

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.

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.

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.)

Flying Cams

Ancient Art, Fisher Towers, Utah

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! 

The Sharp End: Episode 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.

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!

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.

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!

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. 

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 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.

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.

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

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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.

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.

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.

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

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

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.)

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!

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.

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 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.

 
Myths of the Alpine

*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.

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.

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.

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].

The Prescription - November 2021

The Prescription - November 2021

PETE TAKEDA TO EDIT ACCIDENTS BOOK

The American Alpine Club (AAC) is excited to announce Pete Takeda as the new editor of Accidents in North American Climbing. Pete is a longtime climber and expert in all forms of the sport, from single-pitch routes to big walls to mountain climbs around the world. Based in Colorado, Pete has worked as a writer and filmmaker (with a focus on climbing) for much of his life. He also has been a volunteer and Board Director for the AAC, the American Mountain Guides Association, and other organizations. After seven years at the helm of Accidents, AAC executive editor Dougald MacDonald is stepping aside to put more time into the American Alpine Journal and the AAC’s publications website.

Pete already has begun the transition into his role, starting work on the 2022 edition of Accidents. We asked him to share a few thoughts about the publication and his new job.

Q. When did you first start reading Accidents in North American Climbing?

Pete: I started reading Accidents in the mid-1980s. I had just started with serious climbing and found the accident accounts cautionary, insightful, and morbidly fascinating.

Q. What attracted you to the possibility of editing the publication? 

Pete: In 2019, I interviewed Jed Williamson as part of a video project for the AAC. Jed was editor of Accidents in North American Mountaineering (changed in 2016 to its current and more accurate title) for 40 years. He spoke about the publication’s history and provided insights into how accidents have followed trends within our sport. He also had a fascinating analysis of the commonalities of most climbing accidents.    

When the job posting came up, I got excited. Not only was it a chance to become more connected with the AAC, but also it dovetailed with my current book project, and the Accidents editor position is essentially a part-time job, one that gives me time to write—and climb.

Q. One of the things that came across in your interviews—and in your writing—is that you seem like an eager student of climbing, even after so many years in the sport. Do you still feel like you have a lot to learn? 

Pete: I love climbing. I’ve given my life to it. Its disciplines are myriad, and one can never master them all. Each style informs the other. To thrive—and in some cases merely survive—one needs to continually learn. While climbing is unified by an elemental struggle against gravity, each game within climbing has its own physical and mental demands, and a distinct set of rewards. In an age of specialization, climbing offers the practitioner many chances to be a beginner again. When one takes on a different game within the sport, one is reminded of why they fell in love with it in the first place. To me, being a student of climbing for almost 40 years is the greatest gift I can imagine.

Q. We searched the archives, and you haven’t ever appeared in Accidents. But have you ever had a climbing accident yourself—or witnessed one—and how do you think this experience might affect your work as editor?

Pete: I’ve had my share of hospital visits, participated in rescues, self-rescued, and witnessed a dozen serious accidents—some with tragic results. I myself have almost been killed a half dozen times—avalanche, rockfall, exposure, and a few really bad falls. I’ve broken bones, lost teeth, starved, been parched, had AMS, gone snow blind, cut finger tendons, suffered superficial frostbite, and have had three major surgeries. Through all this, I’ve managed to self-rescue, or at least drive myself to the hospital.  

“Big Wall Pete” on the cover of a 1993 issue of Climbing.

I’ve also trained as an EMT, so I have a basic understanding of first-line medicine. My body has fortunately survived my youthful (and middle aged) ego. I’ve gained a healthy respect for climbing hazards, and I do not hesitate to ask partners and professionals for advice and training on best practices. My experiences will hopefully provide a sound understanding of accident mechanisms across all the disciplines of climbing. Having suffered loss and injury, those same experiences should also provide a sense of compassion. 

Q. As a longtime reader, you’ve seen some changes in the book. Do you have thoughts on how it might continue to evolve under your leadership?  

Pete: I have a few ideas, but I’ll need to get up to speed and learn the job. One thing to note is that Accidents in North American Climbing represents more than 60 years of accident data and anecdotal descriptions. These are invaluable and should be put to more use. I feel that trends within climbing can be tracked and analyses made. Perhaps stronger partnerships with educational and commercial entities can create and inform existing curricula. We’re reaching the point where, with the explosion of popularity in climbing, organizations could really begin to use this information.  

Q. People start climbing in such different ways than they did when you started a few decades ago. How can Accidents reach more modern climbers and help to educate them?

Pete: More than any other development, the indoor gym has revolutionized climbing. Most climbers today start climbing in gyms. Some can climb incredibly hard yet lack the very basics we once took as a given. Before 1995 or so, most climbers cut their teeth outside. We learned to use hardware and how to stay safe—or suffered the consequences. My hope is that Accidents might emphasize not only the bad things that happen, but also provide ongoing analyses, inform curricula, and work in partnership with groups like the American Mountain Guides Association, the Climbing Wall Association, outdoor companies, and so on to help educate new climbers.

Pete can be reached at [email protected].

SHARP END PODCAST: HAZARDS OF INFORMAL INSTRUCTION

Nick Tollison had been climbing for about three years before he headed to Clark Canyon, outside of Mammoth, California, with a friend and a more experienced acquaintance who had offered to mentor them in multi-pitch climbing. After warming up on some single-pitch climbs, the trio decided to break a long 5.8 pitch into two leads, with a midway hanging belay. During the descent, confusion at the midway anchor led to a potentially fatal fall. Learn more about this accident and the aftermath in Episode 70 of the Sharp End podcast.

ROCKY TALKIE SEARCH & RESCUE AWARD

REMINDER: Applications are being taken for the Rocky Talkie Search & Rescue Award, which will distribute a total of $25,000 to four nonprofit teams from the U.S. or Canada that were involved in a 2021 incident demonstrating their skill, passion, and dedication. Finalists will be chosen by a committee of Rocky Talkie, AAC, and SAR professionals, and the climbing community will vote on the ranking of the final stories. If you’re involved with a deserving Search and Rescue team—or if you were rescued in 2021—please consider sharing your story. Learn more and apply for the Rocky Talkie Search & Rescue Award here!

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].

The Prescription - October 2021

Cleaning The Fury, the route highlighted in this incident. In order to prevent her swing from pulling the belayer of her feet, this climber has clipped in direct to her lowest draw and then unclipped the belayer’s side of the rope. Once the belayer takes up slack, the climber can clean the draw without causing the belayer to swing. Photo by Johnny Nowell

The Prescription - October 2021

Kentucky, Red River Gorge

Cleaning Error – Belayer Dragged By Climber


My partner (49) and I (33) are very experienced climbers. I had climbed at the Red River Gorge several times, and though it was my partner’s first time here, he has climbed and belayed plenty of steep routes. My background is multi-pitch trad, and his is all sport. We are about the same weight.

On September 8, my partner led The Fury (5.11c sport) at Bibliothek in the Muir Valley. I was tired and didn’t feel like climbing the route, so we decided he would clean it while lowering off. He was clipped into the belayer’s side of the rope with a quickdraw (a.k.a. tramming), as is standard practice when cleaning overhanging routes. At the last quickdraw he said, “You’re going to swing,” so I weighted the rope as much as I could before he cleaned the lowest draw.

I was prepared to swing a few feet, but when he removed the last draw from the route, he was still clipped into my side of the rope. This caused both of us to swing about 20 feet backward. I slammed into a small boulder lying on the ground and then hit a tree. I made contact with one leg just above the ankle, and I think I hit my foot, too. It all hurt right away. I was able to stand and walk slowly, so we hiked out.

I could barely walk for two weeks, and it took months before I was back to climbing. It was not fractured, but likely a severe bone bruise and tendonitis. (Source: Amanda Friedman.)

ANALYSIS

Cleaning the last draw while lowering from an overhanging route is always potentially hazardous, as the climber generally will swing out from the wall. To avoid pulling the belayer into a swing as well, the cleaning climber should completely disconnect from the belayer’s side of the rope before letting go from the wall. The belayer can then brace for the swing before the climber unclips the lowest bolt.

Another option is to leave the first draw on the route while cleaning and then remove it from the ground with a stick clip. (There are video tutorials online for how to do this with most types of stick clips. Here’s a demonstration of quickdraw removal with the popular Betastick Evo.) Muir Valley even has a few stick clips available for climbers to borrow, located underneath the awning by the parking lot. (Source: The Editors.)

This report appears in the 2021 edition of ANAC, where you’ll also find a Know the Ropes feature article describing the ins and outs of cleaning steep routes. ANAC 2019 described a similar cleaning incident in Big Cottonwood Canyon, Utah. Read it here.

THE ROCKY TALKIE SEARCH AND RESCUE AWARD

Photo of YOSAR in action by Drew Smith

The AAC has partnered with Rocky Talkie, makers of climber-friendly two-way radios, to highlight search and rescue teams engaged in outstanding missions during 2021. The Rocky Talkie Search and Rescue Award will distribute a total of $25,000 to four nonprofit teams from the U.S. or Canada whose stories from 2021 demonstrate their skill, passion, and dedication. Either SAR teams or rescued individuals can apply; applications are due by January 31, 2022.

The four finalists will be chosen by a committee of Rocky Talkie, AAC, and SAR professionals, and the climbing community will then vote on the ranking of the final stories. The top vote-getting team will earn $10,000 to support their operations! The finalist’s rescue stories will be described in the 2022 edition of Accidents in North American Climbing.

Nonprofit search and rescue organizations perform many of the rescues covered each year in ANAC, and we are happy to help highlight their stories and raise some money to support their vital missions.

Learn more and apply for the Rocky Talkie Search and Rescue Award here!

BACKCOUNTRY SKI REPAIR: A QUICK REVIEW

Ski touring and winter mountaineering season is right around the corner, so now is a good time to review your repair kit for extended backcountry outings. The sub-three-minute video shown here, featuring IFMGA guide Joey Thompson, offers a quick review of the repair gear he carries and some basic ways to use it. For a deeper dive into the topic, check out this online video and article from ski guide and avalanche forecaster Matt Schonwald. Matt wrote the featured Know the Ropes article about spring and summer avalanches in ANAC 2020. If you missed it, you can read it here.

TWO ROPES CUT YET THE LEADER SURVIVES

The brand-new Sharp End podcast features a terrifying fall on a long route in El Potrero Chico, Mexico. Rockfall on the ninth pitch of a 5.11 bolted route cut both of the leader’s ropes, leading to a very long fall that fortunately ended on a ledge. The climber, Foster Denney, wrote about this incident in ANAC 2019, and now he has spoken about the fall and his rescue with Sharp End hostess Ashley Saupe.

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].

The Prescription - September 2021

Photo of Leaning Tower by Meros Felsenmaus

The Prescription - September 2021

Yosemite Valley, Leaning Tower

Two climbers attempting the West Face of Leaning Tower in June decided to descend after arriving at Ahwahnee Ledge (the top of the fourth pitch), due to excessive heat and sun. While rappelling the very overhanging first pitch with the haulbag, Climber A rappelled over a small roof and got too far away from the wall to reach the ledge at the bottom of the pitch, despite clipping some directionals during his descent. (The West Face route is approached by a ramp that traverses onto the face, so the first anchor is far above the ground.) Since the climber could not reach the ramp, he continued rappelling to a lower ledge. This ledge had no permanent anchor, and Climber A was not carrying the right pieces to construct a solid anchor. With no way to anchor the haul bag, he could not detach it from the ropes nor reascend the ropes to reach the ramp.

During their descent, the two climbers had called Yosemite Search and Rescue to request some advice. Climbing rangers were able to assist them over the phone with their first rappels, but soon decided to send SAR members to Leaning Tower in case further assistance was needed. When SAR members arrived, they fixed a rope and lowered it to Climber A, and he was able to leave his haul bag and jumar out. They then secured the team’s rappel ropes to the ledge so the second climber could rappel directly to the approach ramp. The ropes and haulbag were retrieved later that day.

ANALYSIS

The Leaning Tower is one of the steepest big walls in North America, the lower half of which overhangs at an average angle of 110 degrees. The West Face has been the site of numerous rappelling difficulties, and while Climber A did utilize some directionals, he extended one piece with a long runner and soon found himself too far from the cliff to place more directional pieces. (Source: Yosemite National Park Climbing Rangers.)

The report above and the how-to sidebar that follows will appear in the 2021 edition of ANAC, which is being mailed to AAC members this month.

THE ART OF THE BAIL

Rappelling with a Haulbag: Advice from a Yosemite Ranger

Bailing off a steep route is a nearly inevitable outcome if you climb enough walls, so it’s best to know how to get down safely before you find yourself dangling in space, wishing you knew what to do. Yosemite climbing rangers advise the following techniques for rappelling overhanging routes with a haulbag.

(1) The first person descending should rappel on a fixed single strand of the rappel ropes with a Grigri or a similar locking device, clipping both strands of the ropes to directional pieces to keep them close to the wall. They should also carry equipment to reascend the fixed rope in case of getting too far from the wall or rappelling past the anchor.

(2) When the first person arrives at the lower anchor, they should feed out five to ten feet of slack rope, tie a knot with both ropes, and clip the knot to the anchor. This will close the system for the second rappeller and allow the second person to pull themself into the wall to unclip directionals on their way down and to pull into the anchor at the end of the rappel.

(3) The second rappeller should untie the fixed strand from the upper anchor or undo any knot-blocks, and then rappel both strands as normal, using a tube-style device (such as an ATC) and a third-hand backup. They can unclip and clean the directional pieces as they descend. The second person down should carry the team’s heaviest gear (haulbag, etc.), because the tube-style device produces a smoother rappel than a Grigri. They should not have any reason to reascend the ropes because they will be fixed to the lower anchor. —Christian Black, Yosemite National Park Climbing Ranger

ANAC 2021 IS COMING SOON!

Production delays at the printer pushed back the delivery schedule for the new edition of Accidents in North American Climbing, but the books have finally arrived at our mailing house in Denver. Boxes are now being filled and books will start going into the mail and onto retailers’ shelves over the next couple of weeks. Thanks for your patience!

The 2021 Accidents includes a new 15-page section documenting and explaining avalanche incidents involving backcountry skiers and snowboarders. We hope you’ll find it to be a useful addition—let us know what you think at [email protected].

Not yet a member of the American Alpine Club? You can order a print or digital (PDF) copy of the 2021 book at the AAC online store.

ALTITUDE AND VISION SURGERY

Researchers at the University of Washington, University of New Mexico, and the University of Tübingen (Germany) are conducting a research survey to estimate how commonly vision changes occur while traveling to high altitude after vision correction surgery. The goal is to gather information that can help other climbers and trekkers choose the right surgery for them. If you’ve had vision correction surgery and have since traveled to high altitude, you can help by completing an anonymous online survey. Further information about the project and the survey itself can be found by clicking on this link.  

DANGEROUS HAILSTORM IN THE BLACK HILLS

A sudden July storm caught Ed and three other climbers near the top of Waves, a two-pitch route near Mt. Rushmore in the Black Hills of South Dakota. In the face of 50 mph gusts, plunging temperatures, and golf-ball-size hail, getting off the climb was a test of experience, concentration, and teamwork, as you’ll hear in Episode 68 of the Sharp End podcast.

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].

The Prescription - August 2021

Belayer is carried to a helicopter landing zone by Hellgate Cliffs in Utah, using a rope bag as an improvised litter. She had borrowed the leader’s helmet for belaying the pitch, which likely saved her from a much more serious injury. Photo courtesy of Salt Lake County Search and Rescue

The Prescription - August 2021

HEADS UP!

Below are two reports from the upcoming edition of Accidents in North American Climbing that share many similarities. Both involved climber-caused rockfall that hit belayers standing on the ground. Both were at sport climbing areas, where many belayers decide not to wear helmets—though, very fortunately, one of these belayers had borrowed the leader’s helmet because of concern about loose rock. In both cases, the belayer was using an assisted-braking belay device (ABD), and, in one case, this very likely saved the leader from a ground fall and significant injuries. Though rare, these incidents should make climbers think about the value of ABDs—and helmets—for belaying single-pitch climbs.


Belayer Hit by Rockfall

Utah, Wasatch Range, Little Cottonwood Canyon

On August 7, Avery Guest (female, 20) was climbing with her partner for the day, Jake Bowles (21), at Hellgate Cliffs, a limestone area high in Little Cottonwood. It was Avery’s second time climbing/belaying outdoors. Jake is an experienced climber.

They chose Monkey Paw (5.9), a single-pitch sport climb, for their first route of the day. Jake was leading, and he got about four bolts up the route (approximately 50 feet off the ground) when he reached for what looked like a good hold. When he weighted the hold, a torso-size rock detached from the wall. It split into three pieces, and one of them landed on Avery, knocking her unconscious. Jake fell approximately 10 feet, pulling Avery about a foot off the ground. She was using a Grigri, which caught Jake’s fall.

Avery regained consciousness quickly and noticed she had an open fracture on her right arm. She managed to lower her partner with her left hand, and he untied her from the belay system. She had post-traumatic amnesia, repeating questions multiple times. They called 911 at about 10:20 a.m. United Fire Authority paramedics and Salt Lake County Search and Rescue responded to the scene within 30 minutes. They gave her pain medication and improvised a litter with Jake’s rope bag in order to carry her about 100 feet down and away from the base of the rock, where Lifeflight could hoist Avery and transport her to the hospital for treatment.

She had two broken bones in her right arm that needed surgery, plus lacerations on her forehead and leg. She also had bleeding in her brain, but managed to avoid brain surgery. Jake suffered only minor scrapes and bruises during the fall.

ANALYSIS

Avery did not have a helmet, so Jake let her use his, knowing there might be rockfall in the area. If Avery had not been wearing Jake’s helmet, her head injuries could have been much worse and possibly fatal. The belay stance for this route was small and surrounded by steep, rocky slopes. Otherwise, she may have been able to move out of the way of the falling rock. (Source: Avery Guest.)

Rockfall Onto Belayer

Colorado, Rifle Mountain Park, Ruckman Cave

At approximately 4 p.m. on September 26, a climber started up The Promise, a 5.12c sport route on the left side of the Ruckman Cave. Just before a ledge at the start of the steep climbing on the route, the climber pulled onto a chalked-up jug that ripped out of the wall. The broken jug, along with more rocks and debris, rained down on the belayer. The climber’s fall was held at the first bolt of the route, and he slammed into the wall sideways, from which he sustained soreness and bruising. The belayer narrowly avoided being hit in the head or upper body by the debris and took all of the damage to his right leg. Fortunately, a visit to the emergency department confirmed no broken bones. (Source: Climber’s report at MountainProject.com.)

ANALYSIS

This incident highlights a paradox often seen at sport climbing areas: The climbers who choose to wear helmets while sport climbing more often are the ones leading or top-roping the climb, not necessarily the belayers and bystanders below the route. Yet, arguably, the belayer is much more likely to be hit by rockfall, which is fairly common in Rifle Mountain Park. More common than helmets at Rifle’s crags are assisted-braking belay devices, which can be a lifesaver in accidents like this one, when the belayer may be severely distracted or even incapacitated by rockfall. (Source: The Editors.)

Granite Peak from the south, showing A) Location of climber after fall from the Snowbridge, the saddle directly above; B) site of rappel anchor failure; and C) Position of fallen climber. Photo by Gallatin County Search and Rescue

MONTANA’S DANGEROUS HIGH POINT

In the two most recent editions of ANAC, we’ve published reports about numerous incidents on Granite Peak in Montana. One of the more difficult state high points, Granite Peak has semi-technical and technical climbs on several of its faces and ridges. Summer is peak season for the mountain, and it’s worth reading our reports before heading up there.

Rockfall, Anchor Failure (2021 ANAC): Natural rockfall during an attempt on the Notch Couloir and north ridge destroyed a belay anchor, with nearly disastrous results. 

Fall on Snow and Anchor Failure (2021 ANAC): Two falls occurred on September 5 on the east ridge, the standard route up Granite Peak, one of them resulting in a fatality.  

Unroped Falls in Class III/IV Terrain (2020 ANAC): Two falls occurred within the same week in August on the Southwest Ramp route of Granite Peak.

Fall on Ice | Inadequate Gear, Failure to Self-Arrest (2020 ANAC): Two climbers became disoriented after summiting by the east ridge, bivouacked below the summit, and then rappelled the north face to the Granite Glacier, for which they were ill-equipped.

DON’T BLAME THE ROCK

In the June Prescription, we posted a short list of tips for optimizing cam placements, originally published in ANAC 2019. Several climbers from Devil’s Lake in Wisconsin took exception to our generalization about cam placements in the Lake’s “clean but slippery” cracks. AAC member Matthew Clausen elaborated in the following letter to the editor, making some great points about the dangers of blaming the rock for cams that don’t hold.

Devil’s Lake, Wisconsin. Photo by Matthew Clausen

Like many climbers, I pay attention to the AAC’s Accidents in North American Climbing. I value the continued learning required to climb safely. While reading June’s “Prescription,” I felt concerned about this warning: "Numerous reports document that well-placed cams can pull out of wet or dirty rock or even perfectly clean but slippery stone like Yosemite granite or Devil’s Lake quartzite."

In more than a decade of climbing at Devil's Lake, I have never seen a cam slip out of a good placement. All reports of this happening, that I am aware of, were better explained by bad placement upon review. Most often, the failed cams were in an outward flaring crack or without the lobes properly engaged.

I agree with the AAC recommendations that climbers continue to learn more about what makes for a good placement, seek qualified instruction and mentoring, and remember to back up crucial placements. The learning process and experience help us tell fact from myth.

Myths about climbing skills are potentially dangerous. If climbers wrongly believe cams are unsafe in the Baraboo Range’s hard, smooth quartzite, they may feel compelled to:

1) Use less efficient gear for protection, or 
2) Commit to unnecessary runouts, or 
3) Become lax about the subjective hazard of poorly placed cams because they don’t believe a good placement is even possible.

Rather than blaming the geology, we need to combat the complacency of cam placements: These are not magical devices that will hold a fall in any crack. We will bear responsibility for the quality of our decisions.

Sincerely,

Matthew Clausen, Madison, Wisconsin

THE SHARP END VISITS COLORADO

Listen to Episode 67 of the Sharp End Podcast for the story of a helicopter rescue on the long Ellingwood Ridge of La Plata Peak, a Colorado 14er.

WANTED: CLIMBERS WITH INJURED KNEES

Researchers at Rutgers New Jersey Medical School are seeking climbers to participate in a research survey looking at climbing-related knee injuries. You are eligible to participate in this study if you are 18 to 89 years old, climb at least four times per year, and have sustained a knee injury in a climbing-related incident. The anonymous online survey asks injured people about how much they climb and where they climb, how the knee injury happened, and how they recovered. The survey takes about 10 minutes to complete.

The monthly Accidents Bulletin is supported by adidas Outdoor and the members of the American Alpine Club.

The Prescription - July 2021

The Prescription - July 2021

ACCIDENTS BOOK PUBLISHED IN SPANISH

¡Bienvenido a Accidentes de escalada en Norteamérica!

With the generous support of adidas Outdoor, the AAC has translated the 2020 edition of Accidents in North American Climbing into Spanish. Since 1949, our goal has been to help readers become safer climbers by sharing stories and lessons from accidents throughout North America. Now, with this first-ever translation of the Accidents book, we will share these lessons with Spanish-speaking climbers throughout the world.

Accidentes de escalada en Norteamérica was translated by a team of volunteers. Bernardo Beteta, a Mexican-born climbing guide now in Boulder, Colorado, explained his interest in helping with the translation: “Climbing is a growing sport in Latin American countries, and there's a fast-growing Spanish-speaking population in the United States. It’s important to make climbing literature available to them.” Molly Herber from Lander, Wyoming, an ANAC regional volunteer and translator, said, “We're all safer and better climbers when we pool our knowledge and experience to learn from others, and making Accidents available in Spanish is one part of that important effort.”

Since Mexico is part of North America and has long been included in our reports, the translators chose the climbing terms and phrases commonly used by Mexican climbers. These terms may be different in other Spanish-speaking countries and regions, and in the future we plan to develop an international glossary of climbing terminology. We hope this publication will be useful to climbers all over the Spanish-speaking world and perhaps will inspire similar educational efforts in other countries.

The 114-page PDF of Accidentes de escalada en Norteamérica is available now and can be downloaded for free. Please share this book with your friends, climbing partners, and climbing organizations.

We welcome corrections and suggestions. Contact us at [email protected].

¡Descarga el libro aquí!

Este PDF se puede descargar de manera gratuita. Favor de compartirlo con amigos y cordadas.

Download the book here!

The PDF is free to download. Please share it with your friends and climbing partners.


El Jefe

The Spanish edition of Accidents in North American Climbing was translated by a hard-working team of volunteers in three countries: Symon Ardila, Austen Bernier, Bernardo Beteta, Omar Gaytán, Néstor Y. Durán Nungaray, Alma Esteban, Molly Herber, and Jasna Hodzic. Climber and activist Tiffany Hensley played a crucial role in getting this project started.

Early in the project, Omar Gaytán emerged as a leader : He is a talented climber and candidate for a master’s degree in translation and interpretation, and was incredibly dedicated to the Accidents translation. He’s also co-creator of a cool Mexican climbing podcast, La Mera Beta. We asked Omar, el jefe of this project, to tell us a little about himself:

I’m Omar Gaytán from Juárez, Chihuahua, México. Thanks to my dad, basketball was all I wanted to do throughout my childhood, because my dad loves to play it and he’s also a huge fan of the sport. When I was 15, I discovered climbing—I’m 30 now, and I don’t think I will ever stop climbing. I just love it so much.  

I studied in Juárez until I went to college in El Paso, Texas. I majored in communications with a double minor in translation and French, then moved to Guadalajara to study for a master’s degree in translation and interpretation. The reason I chose this career comes from my very first trip to Hueco Tanks back in 2006. I was 15 and I remember looking at some smiley dirtbags working on their computers before spending the day climbing. Their smiles made me realize that I wanted to dedicate my time to something I love and at the same time make a good living—yes, that’s my personal interpretation of the American Dream.

I’ve been lucky to climb at many different areas in the United Sates, and in México I know pretty much all the major climbing destinations. The climbing I like the most is near my hometown, Juárez. The sport climbing here is amazing and still blooming. I feel like I still have a lot to learn about climbing, and that’s exactly the aspect of both my climbing and my career that I love the most: You never stop learning and growing. I’m becoming a better translator every time I translate documents, the same way I get better at climbing every time I send a project.   

I feel happy to have been able to collaborate with the American Alpine Club on this project. There is nothing better than working on something you love so much, and, on top of that, spread the word about safety in climbing. I am forever thankful for this opportunity, and I hope we only get better at this in the years to come.

STORIES FROM MÉXICO

Mexico is part of North America, of course, but it hasn’t always been a big part of Accidents in North American Climbing. One side benefit of this translation project, we hope, will be increased access to information about climbing in Mexico and other Spanish-speaking areas of North America, including Puerto Rico. In this way, we hope the AAC can help climbers learn more about both the opportunities and hazards in these beautiful areas.

The upcoming ANAC 2021 includes a single report from Mexico, a tragic story involving two U.S. climbers and an unusual accident on a big wall in Chihuahua. Here’s a preview.

Ledge Collapse | Severed Rope

Chihuahua, Basaseachic Falls National Park, El Gigante

On March 6, my best friend Nolan Smythe, 26, and I were on the second day of a free ascent of Logical Progression, a 28-pitch 5.13 big-wall sport climb on El Gigante. Nolan was leading pitch 14. The sun had just gone down, and we had two moderate 5.11 pitches to go before our next bivy. He made it about 80 feet into the pitch and then, after manteling onto a large ledge, the refrigerator-size block of volcanic rock dislodged from under his feet. As he was falling, the rope was cut by the huge block and he fell all the way to the ground.

I was left alone on the wall with a shortened lead line and a limited number of draws. A three-day storm was forecast to start the next afternoon. Below me was a sizable traverse that I wasn’t confident I’d be able to descend safely while keeping my bivy kit. On top of that, we had rappelled in to start the climb, and I didn’t know the walk-out exit for the canyon; this exit route also passes very near several poppy fields run by the local cartel.

Instead, I started roped soloing up to our planned bivy. I primarily used a stick clip, but on occasion free climbing was necessary. I alerted a good friend, Sergio “Tiny” Almada, about the situation via my inReach, and he started toward the wall with another Mexican climber, José David “Bicho” Martinez, planning to rappel in so I could jumar the last 1,200 feet to the top. They arrived as the rain started, and we left my kit behind to jug out quickly. We returned a week later, after the body recovery, and cleaned all of my gear off the wall.

ANALYSIS

All told, this seemed like a freak accident more than anything else. I recall rappelling past the same ledge earlier with a large haul bag. It looked concerning, but after giving it a thorough test, I deemed it solid. Nolan must have had the same thoughts during his lead. It had been snowing for three days before we rappelled in, and this accident happened three days after the snow stopped. It is possible that a freeze-thaw cycle contributed to the rockfall,  but there is no way of definitively knowing. Sometimes a rock that many people have pulled on has a day that it is going to release. Unfortunately, it released on Nolan.

Don’t underestimate Logical Progression because it’s a “sport route.” This wall is remote, large, and committing. The weather can be really bad. Be prepared. You are on your own out there—help in case of an accident isn’t as close as you think it is in Chihuahua.

We were prepared with bivy gear, a stick clip, extra draws, an inReach, and the knowledge to go up or down the wall safely on our own. Nolan and I were both well within our comfort level. We both had quickly dispatched the first 5.13 pitch on the route on the morning of the accident. Some accidents are simply a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. (Source: Aaron Livingston.)

The Optimist

Nolan Smythe’s journal from a 2019 trip to the Wind River Range. Photo by Drew Smith

Aaron Livingston, the author of this report, and Nolan Smythe free climbed a hard route up Mt. Hooker in Wyoming in 2019 and planned to return for their own new route in the summer of 2020. After Nolan’s death, Aaron returned to the Wind River Range with Jackson Marvell and Drew Smith and put up The Optimist, a.k.a. The Nolan Smythe Memorial Route (12 pitches, 5.12). Aaron’s story about this climb will be in the 2021 American Alpine Journal.

The monthly Accidents Bulletin is supported by adidas Outdoor and the members of the American Alpine Club.

The Prescription - June 2021

Rescuers in Banff National Park heli-sling a patient to a staging area below Mt. Louis after a failed protection placement led to a very long fall. Photo: Parks Canada

The Prescription - June 2021

Leader Fall – Inadequate Protection (Banff National Park, Alberta)

This report will appear in the 2021 edition of ANAC. It highlights a problem that climbers occasionally experience: seemingly well-placed cams that unexpectedly pull out of cracks.  


On August 28, 2020, an experienced party set out to climb Homage to the Spider (5.10a) on Mt. Louis, near Banff. The route is an alpine rock climb with a three-hour approach. It starts with a few hundred meters of third- and fourth-class scrambling to reach a bolted anchor. From this anchor, there is a short descent into a gully, where the technical rock climbing starts.

The first pitch is 5.9 and includes a corner that is often dirty or wet. The leader started up this first pitch and made an extra effort to place some smaller pieces in the lower part of the pitch. The upper part consists of a wide crack that can be protected with number 4 cams. In an effort to keep packs light, the climbers had brought only a single number 4, intending to bump that cam up the wide section. The leader had climbed the route several times before and felt comfortable with this tactic.

High on the pitch, the leader set the big cam and committed to the final moves up to the anchor. During a layback move, one foot slipped and the climber started falling. The number 4 cam pulled out of the rock, and the climber kept falling before being stopped by a smaller cam lower down. The climber’s body contacted some ledgy terrain, and at least one ankle was broken. The belayer lowered the injured leader to the bottom of the climb, and the party called for help using their Satellite Emergency Notification Device (SEND).

Banff Visitor Safety personnel responded via helicopter and assessed the scene. The gully where the patient was located was too tight for helicopter access, but rescuers were able to move the injured climber and partner to the anchor above the pitch, from which the climbers and rescuers could be slung out to a staging area in the valley below.

ANALYSIS

RESCUER REQUEST: Another party was on Homage to the Spider on August 28, ahead of the injured party. Rescuers worried that rockfall from the party above might threaten the climbers and rescuers below. As a general rule, if you are above an accident scene, stop moving while the rescue is in process. This will greatly reduce the chance of knocking rocks, ice, or other objects onto the scene below. — Ian Jackson, Visitor Safety Technician

The leader was very experienced and had climbed Homage to the Spider six times. The route and gear requirements were known in detail. The leader also had a lot of experience placing trad gear and described the number 4 cam that pulled as “90 percent good.” In hindsight, the leader thought the cam pulled because the sides of the crack were coated with fine dirt and limestone dust. Meltwater from snow high up on the route funnels down the corner on pitch one, and this pitch is always covered in varying degrees of dirt. The leader felt that dirt on the sides of the crack decreased the friction between the cam lobes and the rock and made the placement, which otherwise appeared to be good, inadequate.

This is a common problem on alpine routes and even more so in winter with ice and water ever present. Cams are highly suspect if the friction of the cam lobes on the rock is inadequate. Passive protection that has a tighter fit—such as nuts, hexes, or pitons hammered into cracks—might inspire more confidence when the friction of the side walls is an issue.

On previous ascents of this route, the leader often had not placed the smaller cam that actually caught the fall. The leader made an effort to place more pieces this time and was very glad to have done so. That small cam had been deemed a much worse placement than the larger cam that pulled—but you never know what can happen. If you are relying solely on one piece and it pulls, the outcome could be very bad. (Source: Ian Jackson, Visitor Safety Technician, Banff, Yoho and Kootenay National Parks.)

CAMS IN SLIPPERY ROCK

A cam placed in a constriction often will have greater holding power in wet or dirty rock.

Numerous reports document that well-placed cams can pull out of wet or dirty rock or even perfectly clean but slippery stone like Yosemite granite or Devil’s Lake quartzite. What can be done to minimize this hazard?

• Lubricate cams and fix or replace units with sticky lobes or bent trigger wires to maximize their holding power. This report from the New River Gorge shows what can happen when cams are sticky.
• Choose the right cam for a placement—it should fit in the unit’s optimum range.
• Orient the placement in the direction of anticipated load, and extend it with a quickdraw or sling to maintain the correct orientation.
• Look for constrictions in the crack that will increase a cam’s holding power.
• Use more passive pro: A well-placed nut may be more resistant to pulling out of slick rock than a cam.
• Never say “good enough.” If a placement doesn’t look great, fix it or find another. Consider doubling up on protection before cruxes. (Source: ANAC 2019, p. 102.)

THE RED ROCK POOPACALYPSE

By Stefani Dawn

In January 2021, Erik Kloeker and his climbing partner were minding their own business when someone dropped theirs.

Erik was belaying in one of the middle chimney pitches of the super-classic 1,500-foot route Epinephrine at Red Rock Canyon, Nevada, when he heard something fly past him and crash into the rock about a pitch down, just below his climbing partner and just above their friends in the following party. There was an explosion and then multiple ricocheting hits of what appeared to be a Nalgene bottle and its contents flying everywhere. But it wasn’t Gatorade spraying the walls of Black Velvet Canyon. It was human feces.

The climber that "dropped the deuce" explained that after pulling the bulge on the route’s final 5.9 pitch, he realized he couldn't resist the call of nature one minute longer. He attempted to go into a plastic Diamond almond bag, with the intentions of carrying it out, but the opening wasn't wide enough. The poopetrator got out a Nalgene water bottle to wash the resulting mess off his hands and the ledge, and to place the offending material inside, again with the intent of carrying out the waste. But as he was maneuvering on the ledge, his foot accidentally kicked off the feces-filled bottle—a moment that will live in infamy in the annals of Red Rock climbing.

Funny, yes…sort of. But such accidents create genuine hazards, not just from falling “objects” but also from the unsanitary conditions that will be encountered by dozens of climbers a week on a popular route like this. An excellent solution is to carry an appropriate poop bag, such as Restop 2 or Cleanwaste Go Anywhere (formerly Wag Bag), which have convenient large openings and contain odor-absorbing material, TP, and a handy wet-wipe. They weigh about three ounces and slip easily into a pack or coat pocket, so there’s no excuse not to have one at the ready.

If you'd like to support the "poopacolypse prevention" cause, the Southern Nevada Climbers Coalition, which helps stock poop-bag dispensers at Red Rock, is currently conducting a waste-bag fundraising campaign. Find the donation link at the bottom of this page.

— Stefani Dawn is a Las Vegas–based regional volunteer for ANAC and editor in chief of the online magazine Common Climber, which celebrates the fun in climbing and all climbers wherever they are in their climbing journey. 

THE SHARP END

Matt and Trevor had plenty of experience hiking 14ers in Colorado, so when Matt's dad was in Colorado for a visit, they decided to take him up Mt. Bierstadt so he could check off his first 14er to celebrate turning 70. On May 8, 2021, the group was nearing the top when the weather changed dramatically. They and another group of hikers suddenly found themselves in a lightning storm with extremely low visibility and rapidly dropping temperatures.

In this episode of the Sharp End, find out what Trevor and Matt learned about making decisions on the fly and how that extra gear we keep with us "just in case” might actually come into play. The Sharp End podcast is sponsored by the American Alpine Club.

The monthly Accidents Bulletin is supported by adidas Outdoor and the members of the American Alpine Club.

The Prescription - May 2021

A huge avalanche in July stripped the north face of Mt. Belanger in Jasper National Park, Canada, down to bare glacial ice. Photo by Grant Statham

The Prescription - May 2021

KNOW THE ROPES: SUMMER AVALANCHES

Spring and Summer Hazards for Mountaineers

It’s springtime and that means snow slopes have stabilized and avalanche danger is a thing of the past, right? Not so fast. For mountaineers and skiers, avalanche season continues well into summer. And in the warmer months, mountaineers account for the large majority of fatal avalanche incidents.

For the 2020 edition of Accidents in North American Climbing, Seattle-based ski mountaineering guide and avalanche forecaster Matt Schonwald wrote an in-depth “Know the Ropes” article about mountaineering avalanches. At the top of his article, Matt described the problems with these avalanches and the reasons many climbers are less than fully prepared:

Spring avalanche on the Ptarmigan Glacier in Rocky Mountain National Park. Note the track on the left. A party of climbers/skiers climbed this slope about one hour before the slide. Photo by Dougald MacDonald

“Although a large majority of avalanche fatalities occur in the winter months, avalanches are not uncommon in the long days of late spring and early summer. According to the national database compiled by the Colorado Avalanche Information Center (CAIC), since 1951 in the United States, 39 out of 44 avalanche fatalities in June and 31 out of 43 in May have involved climbers.

“Most backcountry skiers and winter mountaineers in avalanche-prone areas have some knowledge of the hazards and carry basic avalanche safety equipment, such as transceivers, probes, and shovels…. But preparation for avalanche hazards in the spring and summer mountaineering season is not as widespread or systematic. Most avalanche training is skewed toward winter travelers, and many avalanches that affect mountaineers occur in terrain not covered by avalanche forecasts or after avalanche centers have shut down for the season.

“At the same time, the consequences of an avalanche are at least as great for mountaineers in spring and summer as they are during the winter months. As the winter snowpack melts back, additional hazards are exposed. Cliffs, narrow couloirs, exposed crevasses or boulder fields, and other terrain traps make an encounter with even a small avalanche potentially fatal.

“Mountains big and small possess the potential to bury or injure you with the right combination of unstable snow, terrain, and a trigger—often someone in your party. It’s not only important to recognize these hazards but also to have the discipline to respect the problem and choose another route or wait till the risk decreases. In preparing to enter avalanche terrain, the mountaineer must be focused more on avoiding avalanches than on surviving one, and that is the focus of this article.”

Matt’s story goes on to describe how to recognize avalanche hazards in mountaineering settings and how to plan climbs to minimize the hazards. If you’re contemplating a climbing or skiing trip in snowy mountains this season, this article is essential reading. If you prefer a PDF copy, log in to your profile at the AAC website and look under Publications in the member benefits area—you can download the complete 2020 ANAC there.

FROM THE ARCHIVE: A Real-World Example From Mt. Hood

Mt. Hood’s south side, about 24 hours after the avalanche on May 31, 1998. (A) The 300-foot crown fracture extended across the whole slope above Crater Rock, varying from one to five feet high. (B) The Hogsback bergschrund, below the Pearly Gates. Screen shot from KGW-Television cam at Timberline Lodge

In the 1999 edition of ANAC, we described a tragic incident on Mt. Hood on May 31, 1998. An avalanche struck a team attempting the West Crater Rim route at 10:05 a.m. and swept down about 1,250 feet. One climber was killed in the slide and two others seriously injured; the leader of the group, on a separate rope team, also was injured. The party had headed up the mountain despite one to two feet of new snow in the past week, a “high avalanche hazard” warning posted by the U.S. Forest Service, and signs of recent avalanche activity along their route.

According to the Mt. Hood climbing ranger, most of the people on the mountain that day in late May did not carry avalanche transceivers. “Some of these climbers later remarked that they hadn’t considered avalanches to be a problem, as it was late in the season and it was such a beautiful day,” the report says. “But in fact, a secondary maximum in monthly Northwest avalanche fatalities occurs in May, similar to the mid-winter Northwest maximums.”

Read the full ANAC report here.  

Rockfall took out this anchor at the Narrows, near Redstone, Colorado, last summer. Photo by Chris Kalous (@enormocast)

IT’S SPRINGTIME! HEADS UP!

Avalanches aren’t the only hazards that trend upward in springtime: Rockfall and loose holds become more frequent at many cliffs in the spring, as the freeze-thaw cycle and heavy precipitation prepares missiles for launching.

Last May, a climber experienced this the hard way during the fifth-class approach to Break on Through at Moore’s Wall, North Carolina. Two weeks of heavy rain had loosened some big holds, and this climber found one of them. His report will be published in ANAC 2021, but you can read it now at the AAC’s publications website.

If you choose not to wear a helmet for shorter climbs, such as sport routes, consider changing this habit for spring and early summer climbs. In addition to the hazards mentioned above, thunderstorms frequently send volleys of rock over cliffs, threatening climbers and belayers alike. Rockfall also may impact fixed gear and anchors: Check before you trust.

THE SHARP END PODCAST

Last summer, Jes Scott and Erica Ellefsen set out on an 80-kilometer high-mountain traverse from Mt. Washington to Flower Ridge in Strathcona Provincial Park, British Columbia. Listen to the latest Sharp End podcast to hear what went wrong during their planned eight-day traverse and how they decided to call for a rescue. The Sharp End podcast is sponsored by the American Alpine Club.

The monthly Accidents Bulletin is supported by adidas Outdoor and the members of the American Alpine Club.