Garfield Video

I did a climb of Garfield via a new route with Chris D. Here is the video.

Index. Spring fun.

I've been spending a fair amount of my free time these days at Index, Washington. A crack climbing mecca, Index is known for its hard ratings, clean lines, and perfect granite. This reputation is well deserved. I went with Zach one trip, Lacy and Jonathan another trip, and Jonathan and Rob most recently. We did Godzilla, The Lizard, Corner Flash, and Roger's Corner and Breakfast of Champions. Zach and I also top roped an 11.b route adjacent to Roger's Corner. This should be a good season.

It's been a while!

I feel like I've been neglecting my blogsphere. I haven't been climbing as much because I've been focusing on grad school/ my girlfriend, Lacy. And throw in stress about prospective work and actual work mixed with play and you've got a perfect storm. My Spring Break starts soon (after I finish a project, we've finished classes).
Anyways, I'm brainstorming how I can balance photography with other endeavors. So far, I am doing a pretty good job of that. But I can always improve. Looks like I've done well in all of my classes.
Anyways, I usually use this blog for climbing but it seemed like the perfect place to do a life update post.
Cheers and good day.
Colin James Bartholomew

NY Gully

So, two weeks out almost exactly since my injury at Snoqualmie Peak. The details of that foray will have to wait for another situation.
2/12/12  11:58 pm-I had been yearning for an adventure. I found someone on cc.com who agreed to climb with me. I asked if he wanted to do the NE Buttress of Chair peak or NY Gully, provided he knew the approach to NY Gully. Turns out he knew it well. We would meet at some ungodly hour and head up to climb this lurking beast. His name was Scott and he went by ColdIron on cc.com.
I knew about this route via cc.com and specifically via Wayne Wallace, local hardman climber.
The fact that  I heard about this route through this channel is a tell-tale sign and very much reflected the quality and character of the route.
I had only really heard small mumblings about it and some heads up sections that were a little dicey.
I dismissed any doubt in my head outright. Alpine climbs are never as hard as people make them out to be. Besides two technical sections, Triple C on Dragontail was essentially the composite of a marathon and a snow slog (and a big emphasis on the Besides.)
With Triple C in my mind for druation x technical aspects, I came to this climb with mixed feelings. I knew the climb would be slightly shorter than Triple C, and probably more technical (as it was- having a couple sections of dead-vertical water ice, and a very technical mixed pitch.)
Scott and I meet around 3:30 in the Alpental parking lot. Soon, we're sorting gear getting ready. I am mostly ready so there's a little waiting around but NBD. We chat about rack and rope, you know, normal climber BS.
I take the rope. Damnit. This would prove useful later in the day. But that is another story.
We gear up in the pre-dawn cold, and trudge our way up the beaten down snow path with our skis. We hold a solid pace. The skinning is icy at best. Some of the slopes were very steep and sketchy, especially while wearing a pack. Soon enough we arrive at the notch where I stash mt skis. Scott skis down to the base of the route. We then hiked up to the true start of the climb together. My first impression was that the climb looked much bigger than I had expected. Scott takes the first lead. He was not fast but made consistent progress. I was cold, having not brought a hard-shell because mine was being replaced.
While belaying, I look down and see two climbers coming up to the route. "Is that Colin?" I reply, "Yea."
"It's Will and Chris." They came up and we chatted for a bit while they decided if they wanted to continue, despite the fact that we were in front of them. By now Scott had set up a belay and brought me up. We agreed that Scott would take the next lead as well, since he had the gear and we wanted to move fast.
By the middle of the second pitch I saw that Will and Chris were looking at us from the Notch. They watched for a good hour. The second pitch was definitely in good condition. I took the third pitch- the crux.
The beginning was easy snow slogging, but then a head-wall appeared and a single crack split the face. I had heard it went free at 5.8, but I didn't know the mixed grade. I decided, after some tries, to aid one or two moves. After some considerable work (this wasn't aiding at Index by any stretch of the imagination), I made it past the headwall, only to face scary mixed conditions. At least I had good gear below me. I scratched my way up and set up a belay. From here, Scott brought us to the true top of the climb, where we made one rappel into a couliour.
We sorted gear and he got on his skis and we went down to the notch to get my skis. We traversed for a good half mile before dropping down towards Alpental. On the way down, Scott and I got separated. I was skiing over what looked like a mound of snow that turned out to be a small 20 foot water fall about 75 degrees.
I skiied across rock and landed on a sharp stump. The pain was a bit overwhelming at first, but I told myself to breath and that helped somewhat. After I composed myself, I realized I was bleeding. I was worried about bleeding out, so I called my dad. He told me to call 911. After talking to the operator, they told me to head down where they would meet me. I donned my skis and gear and headed down. Unfortunatly, I ended up above a large waterfall. Thankfully I had the rope and was able to make two rappels. Scott met me at the bottom. I could see aid cars in the parking lot. I skiied down to them while Scott coiled the rope. The medics told me I could drive to the hospital. Once there, they called a modified trauma on me and I got a CT and blood work and dilauded, as well as two IV's. After probably 3 hours they released me. I could barely walk because my leg had been banged up in the fall. I was prescribed two antibiotics and percocet. Two weeks out and I'm not quite fully recovered. I can rock climb and ski now, thankfully.
This accident could have been prevented. My urgency that was precipitated by losing Scott caused me to make a split second judgement call that I might have not made otherwise. Thankfully I had the rope and was able to descend quickly. Also, it was good that I did not bleed out more than I did.

All in all, I'm happy that it was not worse.

Soloing?

I solo for a variety of reasons. The peace, speed, and challenge are just a few of them. But, the truth remains that it is still the most dangerous type of climbing. I found out the hard way that soloing can be dangerous when I broke my fibula glissading after soloing the North Face of Chair Peak. Trip Report HERE. I was able to ski out and thus self-rescue but it was a clear reminder why soloing is dangerous. You make all your own decisions. There is no such thing as consensus when you are alone.

I am currently pretty hesitant to solo anything hard after the North Face of Chair experience. Even though it ended well, I am still hesitant. Soloing is selfish. You run higher risks while soloing and thus push the limits and increase the chances that you are going to die in the mountains. On the other hand, it is utterly liberating and exhilarating to feel yourself so in control in such a dangerous spot. There is a rush that comes from the commitment in soloing that you don't get in many other places in this life.
Almost no one solos thinking they might fall. Almost everyone solos knowing they won't fall. However, some people do fall and die soloing. So, there is a bit of self-deception in soloing. That is why it should be reserved for special climbs and experienced climbers who know their limits. Ideally, soloing should be done on routes that the climber has mastered while tied into a rope. Often, while tied to someone, the rope is either a hindrance, a danger to both climbers, or a deception. That is because, on hard alpine climbs, sometimes the protection is bad or not present at all. In these cases, soloing is actually safer than roped climbing. However, in the vast majority of cases, using a rope is safer.
In the future, I hope to solo to some extent. However, I need, want and plan to carefully evaluate my motivations behind soloing. If I am doing it to prove something to someone else, I won't do it. If I am doing it for the pure fun of fast movement on technical terrain, I am more apt to go for it.

Stevens Powder Video

2011 in Review

So 2011 brought some good climbs and some harrowing ones. I climbed triple couloirs on Dragontail Peak, took up backcountry skiing and skied some spicy lines, and progressed in rock climbing. A well rounded season. Instead of going over each climb, I'll select a few pictures that sum up 2011.

Chair Peak Solo

I hesitate to write about soloing the North Face of Chair Peak because it is the most important climb of my life. It has taught me a great deal about climbing and the climbing community. It has taught me that action is more important than posturing. Climbing itself is about action. Life is also about action. Anything else is just window dressing. But, I have to write about it. I hesitate also because any type of writing about climbing is usually fraught with misunderstanding, and elicits questions about motives from the audience. I will try to avoid this by writing this for myself primarily, and for the public secondarily. It seems that it is a rare breed indeed that can write about their own climbs at any length without garnering condemnation from the hoards of arm-chair climbers.

This climb started out as any other. I woke up with the urge to do something. When this happens I usually go climb something. I gathered my gear and headed for the hills. When I got to the parking lot I found it empty except for one car. I gathered my gear together and suited up. One car pulled in when I was gearing up, but then took off as I left the parking lot. The air was crisp and a slight wind stole my warmth. The cat track was icy and it took some effort to not slide backwards on the inclines. I made steady progress, not pushing hard but not holding back either. It was sunny but not warm. My muscles felt fresh, my lungs clear, my mind sharp.

I got to Source Lake and spotted a group of three high on the slope I would soon climb. I told myself not to chase them but the athlete in me sped up. The going was slow as I battled up the slope, sliding down periodically on the icy crust. I spent the next hour following a skin track up through trees up a slope I know intimately. This was to be my third time up the North Face of Chair Peak. It was to be my fifth time to the summit. And it would be my second solo of the mountain. But, it would be my first solo of the mountain in winter.

I got to the basin below Chair Peak. I stabbed my skis and poles into the snow and continued up the skin track on foot. At the notch I geared up. The perpetual wind was there this time, like every other time I've climbed Chair Peak in winter. I felt reassured in my knowledge of the mountain. I know Chair Peak more than any other mountain. I've done more routes on it than any other mountain that I can think of. I looked up at the peak- the ice looked thin. I decided to gear up and take it one step at a time, like any solo climb.

At the base of the technical climb I turned on my helmet camera and proceeded up the ice and snow. I was able to turn my mind off and focus on the technical aspects of the climb. I stabbed my picks into the snow and ice. My body felt strong. When soloing, you constantly think about falling. I stopped after the first pitch to rest, then proceeded up the route. The climbing felt easy. After the first pitch the climbing eases off. I was relieved. I pull up to the top of the route and feel the warmth of the sun. I focus on my breathing and jog up to the summit. I spend a few minutes sitting down and taking pictures. I decided to go down quickly because it was late in the day. I down-climbed quickly and efficiently. At the rap station I decide to down-climb as the route looks easy. It turns out to be. At the base of the rap route I decide to glissade. I keep my crampons on, knowing that they could snag and I could break an ankle or leg. At first the glissading is easy. Then I feel the snow become hard and I snag a crampon on the ice and my right leg flies outward. I know instantly that something is wrong. I breath in and out, thinking of my plan. I take off my crampons. I try to walk and it hurts. I try crawling. I finally make it to my skis after crawling, glissading and walking the small distance.

I take my skins off my skis and secure my tools and crampons to my pack. I know this is going to be an all-out self-rescue. I put on my skis. I ski down and realize I can't really go left because of the weight I have to put on my right leg. So, I do what I have to which is basically going right. I end up at a steep section that would be easy with two good legs. But, given the circumstance, I take off my skis and walk down. At this point I discover that I can ride fakie easily and thereby traverse the slope back and forth. I made much better time this way. This was important because the light was fading. At Source Lake I pull out my headlamp. It's dead. I cuss to myself for forgetting to replace the batteries but thank God for the full moon. I ski out, cringing at every undulation. I make it back to the car, grab a beer and some Tylenol, and then head to the ED via my house. I'm thankful it wasn't worse when I hear from the ED doc that I broke my fibula.

Epilogue: I write this three days after the injury. I am propped up on the couch, weaning myself off of pain medication. I have an appointment with an orthopod tomorrow.

Post-Script- It is now four weeks from the day of the injury. I have skied twice since injuring myself. My leg feels strong but hurts about 1/10 occasionally. I have been rock climbing twice as well since the injury.