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passthepitonspete
Jan 23, 2003, 3:36 PM
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I wish to assure you that the preposterous myth is true.
It started out innocuously enough. I joined up late yesterday afternoon in the Tiffany Falls parking lot with Grant [darkside] and Jeff [ontario_guide], the latter of whom had brought his friend Aisha.
Jeff and I eyeballed each other's tools.
Dang, thought Jeff. What the hell is that stuff Pete's got with him? Evidently Jeff had never seen a Forrest Lifetime Axe 65 cm in length anywhere outside of a museum. My rusty twenty-year-old strap-on Chouinard crampons caught his eye, too. Little did he suspect that my crampons had synthetic straps, rather than the old-fashioned leather kind. I mean, those straps were considered pretty bitchin', at least at one time.
Dang, thought I. What the hell are those Shar-lay Moe-zay thingies he's got with him? Yvon would have said such tools were better suited to the assassination of the ice than to actually climbing it. At least until Yvon actually swung a pair of 'em.
So into the climb we trudged. Step after backbreaking step, up and down over frozen boulders and fallen logs, the streambed so slick and icy that the others [who had elected to put on their fancy-shmancy crampons upon reaching the falls] were slip-slidin' away like a BWT on his first hook placement.
The approach was horrendous. Possibly as much as thirty vertical feet of ascent over a treacherously slippery four-minute hike. It was cold, too. About minus twenty.
As I stood at the base of the frozen waterfall, I tried to remember the last time I had worn crampons. With the exception of a single day at Elora Gorge I believe three winters ago, it is entirely possible the time before that was in the summer of 1993 when I soloed a few 4000m peaks in France and Italy.
But that's another story.
It took me fewer than a half-dozen swings to determine two things. First of all, when it comes to ice tools, "the times they is a-changin'!" Talk about suh-weet! Strangely, though, as the tools entered the ice they failed to make that metallic sound you hear in movies like K2 and Cliffhanger - you know, the sound like Errol Flynn's sword being drawn from its scabbard? Curious.
The second thing was my realization - Hey, I can do this.
Now my aversion to toproping is well- documented. Like sport climbing, it does not hold my interest. I usually need to be afraid of dying in order to better focus my rather limited powers of concentration. And what better way to focus than to make an off-the-couch ice climbing lead? [For anything less would be cheating in my book]
"Uh, Grant - how do you place these new-fangled ice screws?"
It was around this time that someone noticed my Pat Littlejohn harness. This harness has been round the block a few times, most notably in Roppel Cave. Certain critical life-securing bits are abraded halfway through in places, but it's also the only harness I own with leg loops big enough for cold weather climbing.
One time I took this particularly ratty harness to the gym in Hamilton, and Reid Monk the owner absolutely refused to allow me to use it.
I decided to try the Sentimental Angle with him. "Why, it's a perfectly good harness," I argued whilst attempting to tuck some of the tatters beneath the straps. "I bought it off your dad back in 1979!" Reid was unimpressed and the harness has been forever banned from his gym.
Ah, but this was not the gym! Mwah-ah-ah! I can climb on a piece of crrrrrap if I want to.
So I tied into the sharp end, grabbed a rack of screws, and headed on up. The last time I had placed an ice screw was by rotating it into the ice using my one tool, while at the same time hanging by my elbow off the other tool.
Truely, these hand-turnable screws are the Better Way. Truely. At least when they bite the ice. Perhaps it was a bit too cold and brittle for better bite. But after a few tries, and some patient belaying from Jeff, I managed to get one of the things to stick. This I backed up with a thread round a stalagmite of ice, after Jeff finally managed to toss me up a chunk of rope. [This required at least six or seven attempts by Jeff, but give the lad a break - I was a staggering twenty feet off the deck.]
Above me, the ice was more "chandeliery" than Liberace's candelabra. [And you know what happened to HIM! Sheesh. And if you don't know, then you don't want to know - trust me, mate.]
Anyway, I somehow managed to wobble up the climb and get to the top without falling off. However it is mystifying to me how water can flow over the surface of the ice in such cold temperatures. As I was belaying Jeff up, I marvelled at how the sodden pinky fingers of my gloves extracted every last calorie of heat from my hands.
By now the sun had set, and it was time to pull out the headlamps. When you add my time underground to that spent on big walls, I have likely climbed in the dark for hundreds of hours. It is second-nature any more. Even so, I rigged up two headlamps on my helmet. I thought the Duo Belt would be The Sh*t, since the battery pack could be kept warm inside of my clothes. But all of our headlamps functioned fine despite the frostiness of the evening.
Rather unlike the night about fifteen years ago, when we climbed the 403 icefall by carbide lamp. It was so cold then that the water in the lamps' reservoirs froze after about an hour, thus rendering the lamps useless.
But at least I didn't have to worry about burning the toprope with the flame.
The cold descended like a cloak - still and calm, the trickling sound of running water, the stars winking. Beautiful. Our lights cast an eerie glow on and through the icefall as we climbed. In my wet gloves, my fingers soon turned to wood. Now my love of toproping is well-documented, especially at times like these.
"Why am I doing this?" I exclaimed to no one in particular. "Why am I here freezing to death, when I could be safe and warm at home in front of my computer screen, telling other people how to climb?!"
"WHY!" I screamed maniacally.
"WHY?!" My voice had now risen to a feverish pitch.
"Because I - like Christian Bonington" {gasp, drool} - I chose to climb!"
[The therapeutic benefits of ranting cannot be understated.]
Upon descending to earth, the returning circulation in my fingertips helped me understand precisely how a piece of wood must feel when chucked into the fire. What I'm tellin' ya is, it frickin' hurt.
After we all took a few more bashes at climbing the ice, the lads went up and detackled while I coiled the ropes. "Here you go, Pete - check this out. The rigging cord for the toprope was underwater, and now it's like cable. How's the rope?"
"Not bad," I said, "it's only cable-like in a few places."
Jeff picked up the coil of rope and stood it on its end. The four of us watched - amazed - as it remained this way for a full ten seconds before toppling to its side.
"Oh."
As we headed out down the streambed, I was surprised to see the beam of a light coming towards us.
What the....?
Oh yeah, guess who. My dad. We were a bit overdue, and since he happens to live only five minutes' drive from the falls, he decided to come and rescue me.
This is not the first time such a thing has happened to me, incidentally.
When I decided to first climb El Cap alone in 1997, I figured it would probably be a good idea to learn how to solo before I actually got to California. So I practised a few pitches on the crag at home. Unfortunately, I made the mistake of telling my mother I was out solo climbing, and when I finished hauling my bag of rocks to the top of the crag at sunset, I was not altogether surprised to find one of Halton's Finest standing there with a concerned look on his face.
"Are you Peter? Your mom called....."
So this is in fact my second rescue. Once by Mom, and now this time by Dad.
So down the streambed we skipped, I in my crampons and he in his boots, my dad nimbly and sprightly dancing across the slippery surface with nary a misstep.
Did I mention he'll be 78 next month?
Upon reaching the parking lot, he was more than a little surprised to discover that one of us was a girl. [After]Liberace wisecrack earlier, I shall specify for the record that he was referring to Aisha.]
At any rate, the completion of my rescue involved a further five minutes of driving - barely long enough to even get van's heater working! - and shortly thereafter I found myself ensconced in my parents' hot tub, a can of Guinness in hand.
It's hell on the ice.
All rescues should be thus.
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climbinganne
Jan 23, 2003, 3:55 PM
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i really enjoyed that pete...great story..and isnt grant a hoot???
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orangekyak
Jan 23, 2003, 3:56 PM
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write a book. i'm buying it.
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beyond_gravity
Jan 23, 2003, 3:56 PM
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Welcome To Canada, eh?
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josephine
Jan 23, 2003, 4:05 PM
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Wooow,Pete that was fantastic!I loved this story! Fantastic!
I'm amazed!I'm jealous!
Penny
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passthepitonspete
Jan 23, 2003, 4:14 PM
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{Dr. Piton stands with hands clasped behind back, one foot standing on other, face pointed downwards but looking up with Big Puppy-Dog eyes, then kicks at imaginary pebble with foot}
"Aw, shucks....."
Thanks!
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veilneb
Jan 23, 2003, 4:25 PM
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Fabulous, simply fabulous!
Dr. Piton, how about some pics from the ice, eh?
Veilneb
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peas
Jan 23, 2003, 4:49 PM
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I really enjoyed this post. Pics would be great!
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sunsation
Jan 23, 2003, 5:58 PM
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Campfire Stories by Dr. Piton! Great story!
[ This Message was edited by: sunsation on 2003-01-23 17:59 ]
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ontario_guide
Jan 23, 2003, 7:18 PM
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I don't really know how to add to that Pete! Most of that story was sadely true. For those of you that aren't from this area let me clarify something, last night was the coldest night of the year! We froze our butts off but it was a blast. The screaming barfies were everywhere. Thanks Pete, Grant and Aisha for a great time.
Oh by the way,
Pete's monologue complete with quotation was verbatium.
[ This Message was edited by: ontario_guide on 2003-01-23 19:31 ]
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apollodorus
Jan 23, 2003, 7:27 PM
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Dr. Warthog from now on (for those of you old enough to get it . . . .)
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rogueclimber
Jan 23, 2003, 7:31 PM
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Hey Pete,
Nice story! I hope my mom or dad is there for me if I ever need a rescue!
If Wee Wee wasn't there then your problems are solved. Or maybe he didn't have his crapons on! I'm glad yer safe mate! CHEERS to the folks!
Gabe
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epic_ed
Jan 23, 2003, 8:11 PM
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Dude, I don't climb when it's below 60, never mind when it's approaching 60 below! Crazy freakin' Canadians...
I had to put on an extra layer just to finish the story.
Nice job with the story. You had me going at first -- I expected to read about a real epic. Good to hear it work out with less than a hospital visit.
Ed
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spiderwomann
Jan 23, 2003, 8:43 PM
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Thanks for the great story. I was in a bad mood and it really cheered me up. You have a great writing syle, I really would read even more.
[ This Message was edited by: spiderwomann on 2003-01-23 20:43 ]
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nikegirl
Jan 23, 2003, 9:45 PM
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smile*
you always amaze me, pete.
still make me laugh.
epic indeed
~T
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duskerhu
Jan 23, 2003, 10:26 PM
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Is it ONLY that area that you end up needing to be resued from Pete???
Maybe you should stay away from there???
Nice post!
duskerhu
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nailzz
Jan 23, 2003, 10:43 PM
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/applaud
Some of your finest work, Dr.
Quote:
I hope my mom or dad is there for me if I ever need a rescue!
Bag that. I hope Pete's parents are there!
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darkside
Jan 24, 2003, 1:37 AM
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Well there was some picture taking but I guess we will see how good the ice by flash style turns out to be.
What Pete fails to mention is that to fasten his turn of the century harness(not sure which century) I had to pull the strap through with my multi-tool it was so friggen tight.
And the best understatement of the evening award goes to ....passthepitonspete.
"...a little cable-like in places..." caused such a round of laughter by all present when I picked up a solid coil of rope and passed it to Jeff to look at.
It is still damp but somewhat more flexible now. Good job I have another single and two sets of 1/2's for this weekends use.
The idea of climbing by headlamp seemed innoculous enough but having picked what must have been the coldest night of the year left us doubting our sanity. I swear the ice was forming up faster than I could knock down the chandeliers. When we were done and ripping down the anchors, I found that the running water had increased and spread to form a new layer of ice an inch thick over one of the screws in the system. Between the unseen sound of running water, the shadows, and reduced world of headlamp only vision, it gave quite a surreal feeling at times.
Ice by headlamp, a new experience for me but a good way to spend the evening and just one reason I have been making less posts lately. I guess with lunacy and mad company like last night I can live with less time online, however I - unlike PTPP - can only wish I was like Chris Bonnington
Thanks for the belays guys.
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passthepitonspete
Jan 24, 2003, 7:49 AM
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As Grant points out above, climbing by headlamp is indeed innoculous enough.
Were there a vaccination against insanity, I would surely be lined up at the door.
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rckclimbergurl
Jan 24, 2003, 8:02 AM
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Wow!!! Nice story! So, wee-wee doesn't climb ice?? That's too bad. Sounds like you had fun though! (if that includes being frozen!)
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goodcanuck
Jan 24, 2003, 8:11 AM
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Very enjoyable story....only 3/4 page long. Kept MY short attention.
So, are you going to ice climb more or is once every couple years enough?
Cheers
Nick
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duracellbunny
Jan 24, 2003, 8:32 AM
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Very nice story!!!!, Very tauching when your parents came and rescued you. You have to be very proud of them, because they are still taking care of you. I love the story!!!!
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tim
Jan 24, 2003, 9:20 AM
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Oh crap, just when I thought it was safe to stop reading Pete's screeds, along comes something like this thread. And it was short too, at least by Pete standards.
GREAT little narrative d00d. I'm taking rrrAdam ice climbing this weekend and will be snapping photos... should be interesting...
Virginia ice isn't quite up to Canadian standards, but maybe we can hack our way up some mixed nightmare to make up for it.
Anyways, I had forgotten how well you write when properly provoked. Nice job.
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rrrADAM
Jan 24, 2003, 9:56 AM
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Yea... I just tried to get out of it, since I hate being cold and wet, and I don't have the appropriate clotehes. To which you replied, we are about the same size, and you have extra clothes.
As long as I can smoke and swing the axe, I'll try it.
What am I in for.
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addiroids
Jan 25, 2003, 5:57 AM
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Great story Pete. Now was that 20 degrees below the ideal 70 degrees F that you will only climb in? Hopefully you immediately hooked up with a hottie to warm up your soul. And the Guinness is definately a deserved treat (however, so is a hottie).
TRADitionally yours,
Cali Dirtbag
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