|
||||
  
 
 |
Ice climbing makes other sports seem tame -- especially when the rule about falling is forgotten By
Will Bettmann
In some dark recess of his brain, Jim probably knows that what he is about to do is not a good idea. He is going to climb a 60-foot frozen waterfall, by himself, with no ropes, in a cul-de-sac three miles down a battered and seldom-traveled road. The day before was only the third time in his life he had been ice-climbing. As he had stood at the base of the waterfall in Logan canyon, belaying his climbing partner, Joe, a fist-sized piece of ice, dislodged by Joe's ice ax, had struck Jim squarely in the chin. The blow cut all the way to the bone, although Jim cared for it later simply by putting on a butterfly bandage. It is not surprising, given the composition of ice, that it frequently shatters under the force of ice-tools. As a climber, one can only hope that the chunks that break-off are fist-sized and smaller, as opposed to refrigerator-sized blocks, which can be a problem. Knowing where and how to strike the ice is an art. After Joe and Jim were done with their climbing for that day, Jim drove to an outdoor gear store in Provo and bought a pair of crampons, which attach to heavy hiking boots, and two ice tools, with sharp, serrated sickle-shaped points that drive easily into ice and stick there. Wearing crampons is like wearing 3-inch platform shoes with sharp points sticking down and out. Now, Jim is standing alone at the base of the mostly-frozen waterfall. He is about 5 feet 10 inches tall, solidly built, with thick, muscular arms. He has long black hair pulled back into a pony-tail, and, although he is Italian, his dark coloring and high cheekbones make him look vaguely like a Native American. The waterfall is about 40 feet wide, and is emitting a strange, briny smell. It is composed of three distinct tiers, each of which is about 20 feet tall. The first tier is almost vertical. It contains bands of columns, which look elaborate and baroque, as if they were part of some ice-sculpting festival. The second tier is a much lower angle, maybe 45 degrees, and meets the third tier in an abrupt transition. The third tier is the steepest, and most ornate. It hangs like an enormous chandelier. There is a hole in the ice in the third tier, in which water can be plainly seen as it cascades under the ice. Jim takes a deep breath and gathers himself. Other than the murmur of rushing water, he hears nothing. He draws one ice ax overhead and slams it into the ice, like a carpenter striking a nail; now the other ax. Now he drives his cramponed left foot into the wall of ice; now the right. • • • In 1995, ESPN launched the X-Games, which are sometimes referred to as "the Olympics of extreme sports." Other networks soon imitated ESPN, and broadcast their own extreme sports competitions, featuring surfing, skateboarding, snowboarding, rock climbing, and any number of other things that involved speed or adrenaline or strong possibility of injury, or, preferably, all three. Now, six years later, the average TV viewer is hit with a barrage of extreme sports imagery : Mountain Dew drinkers falling from the sky, Gap clothing-wearers performing on skateboards and rollerblades, Ford truck-drivers hanging from cliff faces, etc. etc. According to a Sept. 3, 2000, article in The Baltimore Sun, sales of extreme sports gear and clothing total more than $5 billion a year, and are growing rapidly. The trend of extreme sports into the mainstream culture has not skipped Logan. According to Jon Hunter, who works at Al's Sporting Goods in Logan, snowboarding is one example of a sport that has reshaped the local sporting landscape. "Even three or four years ago, there were runs at Beaver Mountain that didn't allow boarders. Now the whole mountain is open, and there's a new terrain park (with jumps). I heard the town is going to build a skate park (for skateboarders). We sell three or four times more snowboards than skis. That's what most kids want to do. They're adrenaline junkies," said Hunter. Climbing is something of a step-child in the world of extreme sports. Scott Datwyler is the owner of The Trailhead, a sporting goods store in Logan which specializes in outdoor gear He said that climbing's popularity peaked a couple of years ago, and his sales have reflected that. Climbing is not as telegenic as surfing or snowboarding, and a number of climbers seem motivated by something more than simple thrill-seeking. Jim is one of those. • • • "There are a lot of reasons I climb," Jim says. "It feels religious at times. It's about growth. It's about being in the moment. There are so many times when we're not really in the present. We're looking forward, planning for the future, or worrying about something. When I'm climbing, I'm completely in the moment. I'm not thinking about my car payments, or my homework, or my family. Nothing. I'm just focused on what I'm doing." After 20 feet, Jim is sweating and breathing hard, but he has reached the low-angled second tier of the waterfall, which affords him a rest. Climbing is full of metaphors, and the idea of balancing work and rest is certainly one of them. A climber who is unable to find places to rest and shake out his or her aching muscles will soon find him/herself overtaken by the force of gravity. This idea of rest is not a strictly physical one. If one can find and cultivate a sense of calm and control, even in the midst of an inherently dangerous activity such as ice-climbing, it becomes infinitely easier to remain "centered," both while climbing and otherwise. It is one thing to remain calm on a casual day outing, it is quite another to do so in a raging storm, thousands of feet from the ground, as Greg Child has done on a number of occasions. Child is widely regarded as one of the best all-around climbers in the world. His one-page bio states that in addition to climbing Mount Everest and K2 (the second highest mountain in the world), he has climbed huge walls in Pakistan and "the 5000-foot Wall of Shadows on Alaska's Mount Hunter, which involved extreme-aid climbing, mixed climbing and seven hanging bivouacs." Without getting into precise technical details, it is sufficient to say that each of these three activities is heinously difficult and dangerous. Child presented a slide show at Utah State University on Feb. 2. Afterward, he was asked why he climbed. "I've never really asked myself that question. It just makes sense to me," he said. "I first saw rock-climbers when I was a kid in Australia, but it instantly made sense. I just thought 'I want to do that.' I didn't know about climbing at all. I think that's why you should climb, because it makes sense to you, not because someone else said it was cool, or you're trying to impress someone." Child is not alone in having an ethic of climbing based on internal logic. Many of the best climbers guard this ethic fiercely by refusing to publicize their climbing at all. It seems they do not want to risk losing the joy and focus of their climbing by calling attention to it. This is in marked contrast to the ESPN/Gap/Mountain Dew world of extreme sport and extreme hype. Jim asked that his last name not be used in this artcle. An instructor at the College of Humanities at USUhas ice-climbed all over the world, but he did not want even his first name in an article. When asked why he ice-climbed, he couldn't (or wouldn't) pinpoint his exact reasons. "Well, it makes rock-climbing seem a lot more tame. When I go on a trip somewhere and then come back to the (Logan) canyon, the climbs seem easier. I don't really know what the appeal to ice-climbing is. I only know that I like it. I can think of a lot of unappealing stuff about it," he said. This instructor also mentioned the unofficial rule of ice-climbing, which is "Don't fall." Even though ice-climbers are usually attached to ropes, the prospect of falling any distance with sharp points sticking out from each foot, and a sharp tool in each hand is an inherently bad one. It is easy to catch an ankle or wrist and break it, or even to sever the rope. • • • Now, Jim has reached the top of the second tier. He pauses a moment to collect his strength. He is closer to the flowing water now, and a fine mist covers his Gore-tex jacket and pants, which are supposed to be waterproof, but, in fact, are not. As he looks up, he sees that the best route up this final steep section is a few feet to his right. He begins to traverse over, moving to his right. He searches for small pockets or holes in the ice, which easily accept the eight-inch blade of the ice ax, as opposed to flat or bulging sections of ice, which have a tendency to shatter. He finds a pocket and measures with his right hand once, twice, three times, like a master-builder in a tight corner, and then, "thunk," the ax is in and he hangs his full weight on it. Now he crosses his left foot over his right. Although his feet are still on the lower-angled second tier, the steep third tier rises imposingly in front of his eyes -- almost exerting an outward force, as if pushing him off the cliff. Now, he wiggles the ice tool in his left hand to loosen its grip in the ice. Just as he pulls out his left-hand tool, the other tool pops out of its pocket, and Jim spins around, falls on his butt and starts whizzing downhill as if on a slide. Now that Jim has broken ice-climbing's unofficial rule, he has a very short time to react. As he is careening down the 45 degree slope, he manages to flip onto his stomach and drive his ax into the ice. It sticks. His feet are dangling slightly over the edge. His heart is pounding in his chest. He just got lucky and he knows it. After he takes a few minutes to let the adrenaline work through his body, he stands up, swings his ax, and starts up the slope again. Climbing is often less dangerous than it looks. Climbing gear has advanced tremendously in the last 20 years, and much of it can hold 10,000 pounds or more. However, there is always the possibility of an accidentd Even Child, a world-class mountaineer, knows that to a lot of people, engaging in a sport as deliberately risky as climbing does not make sense. He addresses his mother's outlook on climbing in his book, Postcards from the Ledge: "The fact is, all the climbing literature in the world cannot persuade a mother that there is a good reason to risk your life for the sake of climbing. You might convince a spouse or a friend that there is spiritual merit within the hazardous framework of climbing, or that mountaineering is a treacherous pilgrimage to some inner fulfillment, but mothers know the truth : climbing is dangerous, and we climbers are very silly boys and girls and should get ourselves back home, right now!" When asked about how he got involved in ice-climbing, Child said that he was mainly looking to expand his climbing knowledge, and range of possibilities. Mount Everest, for example, does not have a lot of vertical ice on it, but crampons and ice tools are certainly required gear. Child also noted that he doesn't seek out ice-climbing like some others do. "Ice-climbing is still the most alien form of climbing to me," said Child. "The whole idea of having these spikes attached to you. It's a little bit contrived." In Postcards from the Ledge, Child talked about a former climbing partner named Bill Denz. He described Denz as "self-sufficient, stoic, complex, reticent, intense, ambitious, competitive, steel-willed, fiery, fearless, undemonstrative, and selfish," which, he noted, are "the attributes of a classic alpinist." Child described a battle of wills he and another climber had with Denz while climbing one day : "He couldn't give in because someday when he was soloing an alpine wall and part of him was saying 'go down' and part of him was saying 'go up' he might weaken and choose the easy way out. The Denz option always chose the hard way." When Jim gets to the third tier again, he starts immediately up it. He works his ice tools into grooves and divots in the ice, and finds little knobs and tiny ledges to kick his crampons into. Halfway up, he starts to tire, and his muscles start to shake involuntarily. This is a common phenomenon with climbing. It is called "Elvis legs" or "sewing machine legs." The shaking is mainly due to muscle fatigue, but maybe sometimes it is also due to fear. Jim hangs on just his ice tools for a minute to let his legs rest, and then he finishes the final ten feet of the climb. From the top of the climb, he walks down a gentle slope back to his truck. Afterward, Jim says that he felt better about finishing that climb than he'd felt for a long time.
|
Archived Months:
January
1999 January
2000 January
2001 |
||