jared_j

Thanks for the kind words, everyone. I go in for surgery tomorrow and the doc characterized it as a fairly run-of-the-mill break/repair, which is confidence - inspiring. Should be about 12 weeks to recover. It is helpful to hear stories of people who have had injuries and bounced back. Porter, I think you were laid up with a leg injury when I bought some Cobras off of you last year, no? John, it is impressive that you had 3 clean falls this year - way to push it and not get pinched! We're going to DC this fall (fiancee is enrolling at GW Med school, I'm gonna do something involving economics and statistics), and I certainly don't expect it to be the end of my climbing career; just the end of relatively easy access to the Cascades. I'll have to wait and see what my appetite is for serious alpinism once I recover. Maybe I'm kind of a pussy, but when I was sliding down the snowfield unable to arrest, and unable to see what was over the edge, I thought I was gonna die. For reals. And that was a scary thought. That'll be the thing I have to get over to feel good on steep stuff.

Great advice on this thread already. I would like to add two things: 1. The equalette, advocated by Long / Gaines, is an excellent tool that I use frequently. However, I had to learn by doing that there are a nontrivial number of situations where this is overkill / a hassle / too gear intensive / mucks up the whole anchor area. Examples include a lot of anchors you might encounter as a newer trad climber in moderate alpine climbing contexts - trees, slung chockstones that are massive, etc. Focusing your skill development on having a quiver of tools rather than a straight prescription will make your life easier and also help you be faster and more efficient. 2. Think before you belay! Once you've got an anchor set up, and you're belaying a second from the top, stop and develop a plan before you throw 'em on belay. Maybe everyone does this already, but I can remember several circumstances first starting out where I got things in a cluster in a hurry by just throwin' the second on, then bringing 'em up. Specifically, here's the questions I always ask myself: - which side of me/the anchor are they likely to come up? - where am I going to stack / flake the rope? How can I set up the belay so that the belay strand from the device feeds naturally to this area? - How are the load and belay strands from the belay device positioned vis-a-vis my connection to the anchor? Will strands flow smoothly? Will I have to be constantly moving my hands around to manage things? Maybe I'm just a dumbass who had to think hard about this stuff, and everyone else has just has it dialed better. I still ask myself these questions before starting, and it makes things work a lot better. I don't know that it is emphasized in the books a lot, which is why I mention it. Have fun out there, man! Learning the self - sufficiency of trad anchor building is a real step forward in ones' climbing career.

Warning: Long post. Had a good time up until the very premature end of the trip. I was scheduled for a near 3 week trip to the Alaska range with Kevin Trieu of LA, under the team name 'Funemployed' (thanks to my friend Stephen for introducing me to the expression) . Our primary goals were the West Ridge of Mt. Hunter and Ham'n'Eggs on the Moose's Tooth. It was my first trip to the range, and Kevin's second (he summited Denali two years ago). Both of these climbs seemed like exciting challenges but within our physical and technical abilities. Despite the outcome, I continue to believe that we approached this trip and these climbs with the appropriate amount of humility and caution. We flew in on Friday the 8th, and quickly got some inspiration right off the plane: We shared a shuttle up with a couple of friendly AAI guides, and got to Talkeetna a little after 5pm. We sorted what seemed to me to be an improbably large amount of gear, primarily due to our 3 week itinerary of spending a week in the Ruth, then a couple of weeks in the Kahiltna area: We took off the next morning in bluebird weather, dropping off a team of 4 Italians intent on climbing the Cassin in celebration of the 100th anniversary of his birth. The flight from the Kahiltna to the Ruth was, shall we say, stimulating. Only later was it explained to me that the little automated voice with messages like "500 feet" in a soothing tone indicated that we were within 500' of some surface (e.g. a mountain wall or col). We got dropped off in the Ruth Gorge. The plan was to make a base camp, approach the Moose's Tooth with a couple days of gear, and them come back down. With luck, weather, and motivation, maybe we'd hit up the Japanese Route on Barrille. Parties down in the Gorge had varying degrees of success on the routes fired by John (BTW, thanks a ton to John and Daniel Harro for beta). Some had success of Ham'n'Eggs and Barrille, though. We set out early Sunday morning to head to Ham'n'Eggs, hopefully early enough to avoid any hazard due to the recent warming trends. The approach via an access couloir to the right of the main icefall was stimulating. It would probably be in Jim Nelson's books if it were located in the Cascades. We set up camp just atop, well west of the Root Canal runway, and 2 other parties. There were four teams up there, 3 of whom (including us) wanted to get on Ham'n'Eggs the next morning. They were all nice, and I wasn't too worried about crowded house. The alarm went off at 2am Monday morning, and we got up to see the Anchorage - based team roped up and about to head to the route. Lamps were visible at the camp near the runway, and both teams made it to the route before we did. They each made it through the first 5.6 rock pitch without event. Kevin led it with no hitch, finishing up around 5am. I led off on a short snow traverse pitch, and then again for the third pitch involving two short ice steps. The ice was thin and kinda rotten. I had seen the previous party get a couple of screws in low on the first icefall, maybe a dozen feet tall. I got up to it, and the ice seemed worthless for screws to me, but thick enough for delicate sticks. The couloir narrowed and allowed good stemming near the top as well. A small flaring crack at the base of the step also didn't yield a good cam placement. Typically, in such a situation, I just move on rather than placing what I believe is crappy gear. There are some times where this isn't such a bad idea, and some times where it is. This terrain was decidedly moderate, and the step was short enough such that a pro placement wouldn't have kept me from 'decking' on the snowfield if I feel on the step, anyway. So I just went without placing anything. It was about 5:30am. After the two or three moves up the step, I felt very much in control. I had gotten a bit of a spindrift bath and the winds were picking up, but otherwise I felt cool. The first tool was sunk into what felt like good neve with ice underneath. The second tool was sunk about 8" away. As I weighted the tools to shuffle my feet up (stemming), they suddenly blew, with the snow and ice underneath them losing its bond to the underlying rock . I had nowhere to go but back down with a quickness. It happened so fast I remember at first being surprised, thinking something like "WTF?" or "that's odd". I teetered and thought I could quickly re-establish the stem and stay up, but no dice. I was falling. I looked down and also remember thinking that the snowfield wasn't that far down, and maybe it would be kind of a soft landing. A soft landing it was not. I'm pretty sure I sustained at this point what was my serious injury - a tib/fib fracture, with a full break through the tibia and a medial fracture of the tibia. The next thing I remember was falling backwards suddenly. The snow slope had an angle of who knows - let's say 40 degrees. I was on my back head down, accelerating rapidly down the slope. Kevin's anchor was a fixed station climber's right, and I was now rocketing past him screaming. I tried to roll over and kick around to establish a self arrest. I was sliding waaaaay faster than I ever had when practicing such a technique, and could sense great acceleration. I felt helpless, and despite my focus on getting into an arrest position, glanced down and noted that I was nearing the end of the snowfield. The rope had not yet come taut (and oh yeah, I realized I was going to factor 2 right onto Kevin) and I couldn't see what was beyond the edge of this snowfield, but whatever it was it was steeper. For this moment, I recall two things. First, I thought I might be establishing an effective arrest. Two, I realized I had no idea what was beyond the edge of this snowfield. If it was low angle rocky terrain, I knew things would be very very bad given my velocity at this point. I distinctly remember thinking, as I moved across the last snow but couldn't yet really see what was below, that this might be it - I may die here. Not now, dammit. Christine and I had recently gotten engaged. We were moving to the east coast in the fall for her to begin MD studies, and for me to find a new job after gettin' laid off by Wamu last fall. My life was going so great. It wasn't suppposed to end like this. When I pitched over the edge of the snowfield, it was into space. Below was a steep rock wall. I free fell for a short while before the rope became taut, with me coming to a stop about 15-20' below the lip of the rock wall. I was directly in the line of fire of the dumping of the route. Tons of drift was coming down on me, going down the front of my jacket (despite having the hatches battened down). It was going in my eyes. In my sleeves. A brief moment of wishful thinking on my part that perhaps I had escaped without serious trauma was dashed when I tried to wiggle the right leg. I knew something was broken down in the ankle area. Improbably, however, everything else seemed fine. I didn't hit my head, neck, or back. There was probably 50-60' of rope out from the belay; seems like I got off easy with a hurt ankle considering the nature of the fall and the terrain. The wind was howling, and I yelled to Kevin as best I could, but heard nothing back. Both ropes were taut, and after a minute of yelling I was ready to get the f**k outta there. I throw on a prusik and a tibloc and begin ascending one of our ropes. Not sure of what Kevin was able to do up there, I tied backup knots every so often so as not to lose hard - fought ground on the way up. At some point, Kevin was able to escape the belay, and rap himself down to the edge of the cliff to see me with my down jacket on and moving (albeit slowly). We could each hear the other yelling the other's name, but that's the extent of it. I didn't know that he could see me, but eventually realized that the slack in the rope I was not ascending was being taken up; so he knew what I was doing. I was able to focus on the intermediate goals of (a) not freaking out since this was my first fall in the mountains, and (b) prusiking up past the edge of the cliff over which I'd pitched. I don't know exactly how long this took me, but 15 minutes from fall to getting to the top is probably a reasonable estimate. Once on the steep snow slope, I had to traverse and gain elevation to the belay, which went quickly if I sorta kicked steps with my knees and used an ice tool (fortunately neither was dropped in all the fray). At this point, I see a rope coming down from higher up. Sarah Fritz and her partner Irena (both of Boulder), one of the parties ahead of us, bailed just below the crux due to the high volume of spindrift they were encountering and the high winds. Irena said she could hear my screaming during my fall but was belaying Sarah while it happened. Sarah is a nurse. After a quick run-down of what had happened to me, and the extent (or lack thereof) of my injuries, they decided to help assist in my getting off the route, likely to involve about 4 raps (we were barely that far into the route!). The other party, Ryan and Chris (I think?) from Anchorage also rapped down. At this point, I had popped a Vicodin, had the down jacket zipped up tight, and had some food and water. I was shivering, probably some due to shock as well as being cold. Everyone was really helpful in assisting my getting down. In hindsight, I probably could have done my own raps. To be on the safe side, Sarah suggested an assisted rap off of a rescue spider attached to her. This was slow going, and involved much 'downclimb scooting' on my knees with a tool with her straddling me (not as sexy as it sounds, don't worry Christine). My kneecaps were quickly numb, and I wound up with a little bit of frostbite on them from doing this for a few hours. After a couple of raps, I could see the fourth party from the glacier approaching the base of the route with a sled. They must have seen the assisted rap action and knew something was bad. I would later find out from Galen that they saw me dangling over the cliff, and knew something was rotten in Denmark. From their vantage point, I wasn't moving and they were preparing for a much more serious rescue. In fact, I was probably just prusiking hella slow. The last rap made it just barely to the bergschrund of the glacier where they got me into a sled and lowered me off a picket belay with a munter down to the flat part of the glacier, eventually towing me over to their camp adjacent to the runway. My sat phone was in our camp, over on the western tip of the Root Canal. They used theirs to contact TAT. This whole rescue bit took a few hours, and in that time the winds had died down, the clouds had parted, and it was now downright nice up there. TAT got a plane up there by 1pm, but not in time for Kevin and I's camp to be taken down. Kevin agreed to stay behind and help take it apart. Also, we were only 3 days into a planned 18-19 day trip. I pleaded with him to try to salvage something of the trip. He wasn't sure what he wanted to do. I'm still not sure; as of yesterday there were no glacier landings so he's up there, along with my cellphone, ipod, and a lot of my gear which I'll get back in due time. I thanked everyone for the assistance in getting me out. They were very generous in helping assist in my evacuation. If Kevin and I had been completely alone out there, we still would have gotten out just fine; the assistance made it much smoother, faster, and less stressful. I was back at TAT by around 1:30pm. The climbing ranger John C helped me remove my boot and put a SAM splint on. The shuttle service I used (GoPurple, recommended a good deal and a nice guy) waited around after dropping a party off at noon and hearing of my accident. We got on the road and I was in the Anchorage ER by 5pm. I called Christine there and let her know that I was going to be OK. Pretty drained at this point, I easy prey for a Pentecostal woman who wanted to pray for me and give me some literature. I humored her while waiting because it was easier than arguing. The staff noticed me getting the full treatment by this gal, and it may have helped speed up the process of me getting seen. So yeah, x-rays show some broken bones. I was done at 7pm, and Galen (one of the climbers down on the glacier who assisted with the sled, but also wrapped up his trip with his partner Jason Butrick and flew out with me) (also apparently the youngest guy to ever summit Denali, when he was 11 or something) came by to give me a ride. He took me to his girlfriend's house where I could call Alaska airlines to reschedule my flight, and they fed me some chili (thanks, Galen and Sarah!). I was able to get on a red-eye that night at 10:45pm and finally got back to my apartment Tuesday morning at 4am, around 27 hours after starting the route. I'll be out for 12 weeks. The broken leg, my right, will have an air cast on it. I won't be able to drive. Won't be able to climb, either. Also won't be terribly useful for our impending move to the east coast. The most disappointing (right now), besides the great inconvenience this will be on Christine, is that I'm gonna miss out on summer alpine rock climbing. In retrospect, I made one chief error - not taking the pro, even if it was crappy. I do this a lot in the mountains on moderate terrain. However, it was right off the belay. We didn't bring pickets, but one could have been useful at the base of the ice step. Neither a picket, nor a screw or cam down low, would have prevented me from decking on the snow slope from where I fell (and therefore not prevented the ankle injury), but could have prevented me from sliding down the slope and over the edge of the cliff. I simply got lucky here that there was nothing down there for me to splatter on before the rope became taut. Seems simple, right? Protect the belay? Second, that my tools popped came as a complete surprise. I've been ice climbing a lot this year, and feel like I have good intuition and feel for such things. Nevertheless, many other parties made it up and over this terrain without falling, so something was different with my try. I entertain a couple of possibilities: 1. The ice just happened to be weak by the time I got on it, perhaps from getting stuck several times before that day and in recent days. 2. Perhaps I wasn't delicate enough with my sticks; I knew the ice wasn't very fat, and maybe I just clobbered it with my tool when a more gentle swing may have gotten the job done without obliterating it. I can't know for sure what was the cause (likely a little bit of both; I'm the only person who blew it in that spot that I know of, but I was also the last person there as well). All I know is what I saw - the medium my tools was in coming off to reveal bare granite underneath. (They blew as I was pulling down and up far, so my head was above them as they gave way). I believe, and will continue to believe, that I was not "in over my head" in this terrain, though I acknowledge that pretty serious error was made in not placing even poor pro, and that I was lucky that the consequences of this decision were not more dire. I know that this may sound melodramatic to some out there; I took a fall while leading ice and got a bad broken ankle. Par for the course, right? Well, for me it was and still is a big deal. This is a big injury, that will take lots of time and resources (financial and emotional) from which to heal. Having a sharp visual memory of seeing what I saw while falling and remembering what I was thinking (that I was about to buy the farm) is also difficult. It was also a big deal in the sense that this trip was the culmination of my 6 months or so being unemployed and climbing a lot, particularly getting out on the ice a ton. I devoted a lot of my resources (time, energy, money) to making it happen, and it is disappointing that it ended so early, and so traumatically. As I write this, hopefully my partner Kevin is salvaging his trip with other climbers and having a great time in Alaska. My best wishes go out to him, and the other parties who assisted me that day.

That looks like a nice tool; just know that its shaft won't plunge well. If you've got a budget, I think the smart thing to do is: 1.Get something like this Grivel tool or this BD axe for use on moderate alpine terrain where you might want a second tool. The advantage is that these have straight shafts and can plunge nicely. 2. Buy a pair of technical tools for pure ice or routes where ice is the dominant medium. On this pair of tools you could compromise 'plunge-ability' and get something that will climb really well. With these tools, you'd be armed and ready for pretty much anything. If that requires too much kizzash, another good alternative would be to buy a pair of matching technical tools now and use one as a second tool. Then you're not in the situation where you have mismatching tools when you'd like to have them matching. Finally, if even that is too expensive, then getting a single second tool and knowing you may want another one later is a decent alternative. That's just one dude's opinion, though.

If you're trying to be budget - conscious for a warmer boot, consider getting a closeout or lightly used Koflach Vertical or Arctis Expe shell. Even if you get some intuition liners for them, they may be cheaper than the bling bling double synthetics you list. They address your dry-ability concerns well. I use this system and have had good luck ice climbing up to WI5 in them and tackling moderate mixed terrain. If you want to do hard mixed climbing, then those other boots you listed will will likely work much better.

That explanation makes way more sense to me (tons of fresh sliding, rather than what was underneath). You're welcome for the steps. The slope looked virgin in Friday.

Thread with response from belayer Media blurb Wishes for a speedy recovery, dude.

Dude, you skied the shit out of Shuksan lately. 3 days out of the last 6? Do you live up near there or something? I saw your tracks on the SW Face and was very impressed.

Holy crap! Peakpimp and I climbed the N Face on Friday with what slightly cooler temps, and earlier in the day than you were out. Definitely attention-getting. All of the existing slide debris looked to be a bit old, and I speculated that it was from the last heavy storm cycle a few weeks back. This made me not too worried about slabs; I didn't even dig a pit to analyze. This just shows to go ya; slab danger doesn't disappear in the spring.

I bought approach skis for an upcoming Alaska trip. Turns out the partner don't ski, and an impending move is motivating me to trim down on infrequently used items. Specs: 174cm Hagan touring skis, Silvretta 404s (size medium - I have size 10 Koflachs and you'd have a tough time fitting something bigger into the bindings). Also come with brand new BCA Low Fat skins that I trimmed to fit. They're stiff (like old touring skis), but definitely get the job done. I'm passing the package on for less than I paid. $150. Also for sale: $30: Patagonia Wool 2 Long Sleeve, size medium - worn (and washed) twice. Thought I wanted wool to not stink in Alaska. It doesn't quite breathe as nice as the Capilene, and I will sacrifice and be stinky up there in lieu of a little more dryness. $15: Patagonia R1 Baklava - Turns out I bought an R1 Hoody when I actually saw them, so I don't need this, either. Worn twice. $70: Brand new BD Camalot #5 - never been placed, but no tags. Was a gift, but I already have a #5 WC Friend that I like better. This has been in my gear closet for a year, and never even taken to a crag. It is the latest iteration of the BD cams, with a thumb loop at the bottom. Email me at janowiak dot jared at gmail dot com.

If you've got a medium FF Frontpoint jacket taking up space in your closet because you're not getting to the greater ranges as much as you thought, I may be interested in buying it. I'm not going to lowball you; I'm just seeking an alternative to a new one at retail. Email me at janowiak dot jared at gmail dot com

I'd like to be second in line for the Turbo Express screws if the first buyer isn't a taker. Jared janowiak dot jared at gmail dot com

Pending good weather next week, I'd like to get out on Thursday / Friday. Springtime routes I'm interested in: Shuksan - N Face Stuart Glacier Couloir Colchuck NEB Couloir (if it is in) Adams Glacier PM me.

pm sent.

I'm in Seattle, and want to head down there and check this climb out. Given temperature trends, figure we'd approach on Monday to a high bivy, then start really early on Tuesday morning to get through the steeper sections while temps are low. We'd be a good match if you're comfortable simulclimbing steep snow and moderate ice, and have had a chance to get on some ice a few times this winter. If interested, shoot me an email at janowiak dot jared at gmail dot com.

I've been trying to view the USFS website for road conditions, and each time I've tried I get an error message saying it is unavailable. This occurs whether or not I try to view the root of http://www.fs.fed.us/ or specific sites (such as the Mt. Baker - Snoqualmie). Anyone know what's up with this?

Sold.

CCW Chernobyl (sized 'Regular') that has tons of life left. No holes or structural flaws, only a little dirty. I've used it about a year; just culling the herd in the gear closet. I accept Paypal, and can meet locally in Seattle. Cat not included.

Anyone used one of these ? Can attach onto an axe with a straight shaft. Jim Nelson's shop has some on the wall. Looks a little flimsy, but if someone has had good luck with it I'd like to hear.

I hope this subsides so that flights to Anchorage aren't delayed in May/June. Could make life hard for climbers going to Alaska (e.g. me). I'm also concerned about ash/etc in the air up there. Anyone have any thoughtful/informed perspective on the implications of this volcano behavior on the upcoming climbing season up there?

To clarify what Kat said, you can't drive any further than the Salmon la Sac Sno-Park right now, and it's many miles down FS 4330 to the trailhead. If you're looking for mellow terrain to solo, consider going up the SW Ridge of Red Mountain near Snoqualmie Pass if low avalanche conditions emerge.

Is that so? Care to clue is in? Do you have any, like facts or anything?

PM Sent.

PM Sent

Bump.