Educate

10th Mountain Division to Memorialize AAC Member John McCown II

John McCown rappelling for a August 1942 photo shoot for Life Magazine. This image appeared in the Nov. 9, 1942 issue. Photos courtesy Private Collection of McCown Family.

On June 21st, 2023, the history of the US Army’s 10th Mountain Division and the legacy of the American Alpine Club will collide when the Division renames its Light Fighter School in honor of AAC member First Lieutenant John Andrew McCown II. 

The memorialization will recognize McCown’s service to his country in WWII. Not only did McCown instruct 10th Mountain Division troops in mountaineering and climbing tactics. He played a pivotal role in the unit’s signature action: a nighttime assault of Italy’s Riva Ridge that helped break Hitler’s Gothic Line and end the war in Europe.  

In honor of his impact, the 10th Mountain Division’s Light Fighter School will now be known as the 1LT John Andrew McCown II Light Fighter School building. 

***

Climber, former American Alpine Journal editor, and Alpinist co-founder Christian Beckwith was writing a history of Teton mountaineering when he discovered that Teton climbers of the 1930s played an integral role in the development of the 10th Mountain Division. As he continued his research in the AAC Library and Denver Public Library archives, he found that the unit known widely as “America’s ski troops” owe much of their inception and development to American climbers in general and the AAC in particular.

As he dug deeper, Beckwith discovered an incontrovertible link between the modern era of recreation in America—particularly the modern era of climbing—and the skills, equipment, and tactics that some of the best and the brightest mountaineers brought to the 10th Mountain Division. He also uncovered a deep connection between the AAC and the 10th Mountain Division—especially how the AAC helped develop the gear, tactics, and clothing the 10th Mountain Division would use in action—and that, as Army surplus after the war, would help fuel the birth of the outdoor recreation industry.

John Andrew McCown II in the Tetons in 1939. Photos courtesy Private Collection of McCown Family.

Recently, Beckwith began a book and podcast called Ninety-Pound Rucksack that tells the true story of John McCown, the 10th Mountain Division and the dawn of outdoor recreation in America, all from the perspective of climbers. He also began serving as an advisor to the current 10th Mountain Division, helping them reconnect with their historic mission. 

Following a keynote presentation on the Division’s base in February, he proposed recognizing the service of John McCown with a memorialization. Next month, the 10th Mountain Division will proceed by renaming its Light Fighter School in McCown’s honor.

At the same time, the Division will recognize Beckwith’s contributions by inducting him into its Mountain Warrior Legends Hall of Fame.

Below, you can read a bit about McCown’s story and the impact he had on the 10th’s actions in Italy. 

***

Christian Beckwith summarizes McCown’s story as follows:

“A Wharton School graduate who dropped out of the University of Virginia School of Law after Pearl Harbor to enlist in the Division, McCown’s mountaineering skills, devilish sense of humor and contempt for Army red tape endeared him to officers and soldiers alike as he rose through the ranks. At both Camp Hale and as lead instructor at West Virginia’s Seneca Assault Climbing School, he trained thousands of soldiers in the dark art of alpine warfare—skills he put to use in breaking the Gothic Line, a series of German-held ridges and summits in Italy’s Apennine Mountains.

John Andrew McCown II, in the Tetons in 1939. Photos courtesy Private Collection of McCown Family.

Key to doing so was Riva Ridge, an escarpment so precipitous the Germans barely defended it—they considered it impossible for a company of soldiers to climb. They hadn’t bargained for the profanity-laced tenacity of the bow-legged McCown, who reconnoitered the hardest route to its summit, then led his C Company up the route under cover of darkness in the dead of winter to take the ridge without a casualty. It was a magnificent action, one that marked the beginning of the end of Germany’s occupation of Italy—but McCown never got to enjoy the victory. He was riddled by machine gun fire while foiling a counter attack the next day.

“It is a profound honor to illuminate McCown’s sacrifice and service,” says Beckwith, “and to contribute, in however small a way, to the country he died to defend.”

McCown’s obituary in the 1946 AAJ highlights the climbing background  that contributed to the 10th Mountain Division success:

“John McCown was elected to the American Alpine Club in 1940, on the basis of four seasons of climbing, much of it in the Teton area, including four ascents of Grand Teton by various routes. In 1941 he visited the Coast Range of B. C., back-packing through the Homathko Valley to Scimitar Glacier. Had he emerged from the war, his qualities of leadership would undoubtedly have secured him a notable position in expeditionary mountaineering.”

***

McCown is the central protagonist of “Ninety-Pound Rucksack.” Dive into all the details of the 10th Mountain Division—and their untold climbing history—with Beckwith’s podcast.


Looking for a brief overview of the historic connection between the 10th Mountain Division and climbing? Check out this interview with Christian Beckwith on the AAC Podcast!


We would like to extend a special thank you to Christian Beckwith and the AAC Library for their extensive research and resources that led to this historic memorialization.

Know the Ropes: Safer 4th Class

Know the Ropes: Safer 4th Class

Each year we see many accidents that very likely could have been prevented or mitigated by the use of a rope in easy terrain, including unroped falls on technical alpine ridges (often caused by loose rock), approach and de- scent accidents due to rockfall or small slips, and scrambling accidents in terrain deemed “too easy for a rope.” This article seeks to make climbers aware of alternatives to soloing (scrambling) that use the equipment they’re likely carrying anyway and incur little or no time cost.

The Prescription — April 2023

This month we have an unusual rappel accident. While this story has a happy ending, we cannot be absolutely certain of the accident’s cause. However, one theory seems to check all the boxes. For more details, read on.

Rappel Failure | Rope Became Unclipped from Anchor

Utah, Provo, Rock Canyon

The Kitchen in Rock Canyon with rappel/belay anchor circled in red. This was where the accident happened last September. Photo by John Ross.

On September 3, 2022, Kyra Harames (female, 24) was climbing with a group of friends at The Kitchen in Rock Canyon. After setting up a top-rope, she fell to the ground while rappelling from the two-bolt anchor.

Harames reported to ANAC, “I remember everything leading up to my actual fall, and the rest of the details my friends filled in. At about 8 a.m., I successfully led Panic City (5.11a). After I set up that route with a top-rope, a couple of my friends started climbing it. I then hiked to the top to set up another route called Left Corner (5.9). I clipped in my daisy chain as a safety with a locking carabiner. I set up the top-rope using two wiregate quickdraws on the same bolt. I put both strands of rope through my belay device to rappel and used a locking carabiner. I checked the rappel and put my weight on the belay device/rope before taking off my safety. Everything seemed good, so I proceeded to rappel. The last thing I remember is lowering myself a couple of feet, and that is when I fell.

“The rope came out of the quickdraws, and I fell about 35 feet. My friends said when I hit the ground, they could hear the air leave my lungs. I briefly landed on my feet at an angle, and then landed on my back. One of my friends called 911. Shortly after that, I lost consciousness. A nearby climber came over and couldn't find a pulse. My close friend Alivia did CPR and less than a minute later, I regained consciousness. The ambulance came really quick. A friend ran down to make sure the gate was open for the ambulance and it was able to drive up all the way to me.

“I have a very vague memory of being in the ambulance. I didn't know what had happened, but I had a dream that I was climbing. My first solid post-fall memory was when I woke up in the trauma room. I had no idea what had happened. The nurses filled me in. I got stitches in my foot and elbow, as well as staples in my head. I had a compression fracture on my T11 [vertebra], a mild concussion, bruised ribs, and a fractured talus bone in my ankle. I stayed for a day and a half for monitoring and pain control. The reason I went into cardiac arrest after my fall is believed to be caused by a phenomenon called commotio cordis. This is when an impact to the chest occurs during a short vulnerable window in the cardiac electrical cycle. 

“A week later, I received surgery to repair my talus and they put two screws in my ankle. I took a leave of absence from medical school to recover from my concussion and other injuries. 

“Currently, I have made a full recovery physically and mentally. I have caught up on medical school and have started to climb again. So far, I have only top-roped in indoor gyms, but hope to go back to climbing outside. I am thankful for my friends and family for helping me through my recovery and everything I learned from my experience. It truly was a miracle.” 

ANALYSIS

Two strands of rope were running through Harames’ belay device, which was attached to her harness with a locking carabiner. The entire rope was on the ground after the fall occurred. The quickdraws were still attached to the anchor. 

Harames writes, “Looking back on it, my friends and I have tried to figure out why the rope came out of the quickdraws. It is possible that they were facing the same way, which may have contributed to the rope unclipping itself as I rappelled. I believe this could've been prevented using locking carabiners.” 

In principle, Harames did the right thing by using two draws at a bolt belay. However, she made a fundamental error in using only one of the available bolts. Sport belay stations almost always have a minimum of two bolts. Always incorporate both in any anchor system.

Why did Harames not do so? One clue might lie in the positioning of the belay bolts and the style of hanger used. The bolts here are on either side of a small arete, positioned in such a way as to allow top-roping on both Left Corner and Mark’s Corner (5.7) to the right. Harames later wrote, “I don't remember why I clipped the rope to only one bolt, I might not have seen the other bolt around the corner a little bit.” 

The waist level belay bolts for Left Corner and Mark’s Corner have horizontal hangers with welded steel rings. Photo by John Ross.

Setting up a top-rope with the rope through at least one locking carabiner is always a good idea. (Many climbers always carry an “anchor draw” constructed with locking carabiners for exactly this purpose.) If you don’t have a locker, it’s important to oppose the gates on the carabiners through which the rope is running. 

It is extremely unlikely that simply leaning back on two anchor quickdraws would cause them to come unclipped. If this were so, any link in the belay chain using a rope clipped to a carabiner—a quickdraw on a run-out sport route for instance—would be suspect. Nonetheless, the best practice is to oppose the carabiners, because there are scenarios where for the rope could unclip—see the photos for an example.

Another factor that comes into play is the height of the anchor. When one stands atop Left Corner, the anchor bolts are at waist level. This height might have contributed to this very unlikely accident. As one pulls up the slack on an ATC-style rappel device, it is possible that the tightening loop of rope can wrap around the carabiner gates—see the video. This is made more possible if the quickdraws lie parallel to the rock surface and incorporate both stiff sling material and pronounced bent gates on the lower, rope-bearing carabiner (typical in most modern high-performance draws).

Patrick Begley wrote on mountainproject.com that if two draws on bolted anchors were oriented in parallel rather than gates opposite, “complete detachment of the rope is certainly possible, especially if the climber was firmly gripping the draws in preparation to weight the rappel.” Begley is an aerospace engineer, an AMGA Single Pitch Instructor, and Apprentice Rock Guide. Photo by Patrick Begley.

While unlikely, this scenario is possible when stiff, captive lower carabiner quickdraws are both clipped to a single point. Begley wrote, “It was quite difficult to replicate.” Photo by Patrick Begley.

Video Analysis

If a picture is worth 1,000 words, then a video is worth 10,000. Here, Begley demonstrates this unusual scenario. Video by Patrick Begley.

TAKEAWAYS

  1. Always incorporate two or more bolts into any anchor system.

  2. Weight test the rappel anchor. Put your weight on the belay/rappel device and rope before you unclip your PAS or other backup. Though Harames did this, it’s possible she did it while holding the draws in the manner depicted in Begley’s photos.

  3. Consider using locking carabiners and a cordelette or long sling. AlpineSavvy climbing guide John Godino’s website has some good resources on cordelettes and clipping the horizontal-style ring hanger as found on Left Corner.

  4. Oppose the carabiners, especially if you’re not using lockers.

(Sources: Kyra Harames, John Ross, Patrick Begley.)


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The Prescription — March 2023

This month we have a dramatic story that speaks to the strengths of our outdoor community. When Will Toor, the executive director of the Colorado Energy Office, and his wife, Mariella Colvin, a philosophy teacher at the University of Colorado, took a tumble, fellow climbers and hikers came to their aid.

We also cover a remarkable free solo incident below.

Fall on Snow | Climbing Unroped

Colorado, Rocky Mountain National Park, Flattop Mountain

A National Guard helicopter swoops in to evacuate Will Toor. He recalled, “It was raining and windy. This was super-skilled flying, and the helicopter took some real risks to save me.” Photo by Markian Feduschak.

On July 10, 2022, Will Toor (60) and his wife, Mariella Colvin (59), fell down the East Couloir (II, AI2 or 65°snow) on the north face of Flattop Mountain. At the top, a cornice collapsed, causing Toor to fall. The dislodged debris struck Colvin and they both tumbled 900 feet. Colvin left her immobilized husband to try to get help, bushwhacking nearly two miles despite having suffered broken ribs, a broken sternum, a broken wrist, and three fractured vertebrae. While she was gone, two climbers on an adjacent peak came over to assist Toor and summoned a National Park Service rescue. Toor was helicoptered out with a broken femur. Colvin was evacuated the next day.

Toor recalls: “Mariella and I arrived at the couloirs around 11:30 a.m. and spent some time examining conditions. We planned to climb the 1,200-foot-long East Couloir. The cornices at the top had not fully melted out, but there was a portion in the middle with a reasonable looking exit—maybe 80 feet of very steep snow, before turning almost vertical for ten feet. 

Mariella Colvin climbing in couloir prior to the accident. Photo by Will Toor.

“It was a warm day, and because of the timed entry permit, we did not get an early start. But the couloir had been in shade down low, and the snow was good for kicking steps. I was maybe ten feet ahead of Mariella most of the time. We wore helmets and crampons. We had packs with some warm clothing. We did not bring a rope or pickets (to keep our packs lighter). We did not have satellite devices, only cellphones.

“We traversed the lower sections of the couloir but largely went straight up as it steepened. Just below the top, we stopped on a ledge and got out our second tools. We talked about traversing left to a lower-angle exit, but I felt more comfortable facing straight in, with a tool in each hand (for three points of contact), versus traversing. We started up again, and I was still able to kick very secure steps and get secure axe placements. Right around 1:30 p.m. I made the final move to the flat snow on top.”

At this point, the snow collapsed. Toor’s memory of the moment is hazy: “I remember starting to fall and being totally confused how it was happening. I was done with the climb! Our theory is, the old cornice fracture line, a few feet back from the edge, collapsed.”

Colvin recalls, “I was knocked over backwards. I lost both ice axes. I slid until I found myself rolling, which eventually turned into somersaulting, sliding, and tumbling. I was aware enough to see some rocks in the snow as I hit the lower-angled section and did my best to miss them. I dragged my crampons to come to a stop near the bottom and amazingly didn’t break my ankles.”

Meanwhile, Toor recalls “hearing Mariella scream and trying to self-arrest. I remember tumbling out of control and having a fleeting sense that this was the end. Mariella also remembers feeling we were probably going to die.”

 “I was aware of Will sliding behind me,” Colvin recounts. “When we finally stopped, I could skootch sideways to him. Will thought his femur was broken. I knew my upper body had significant trauma, but my legs were fine. Will kept asking, ‘Where are we, what happened?,’ which made me worry about a concussion. I tested my mental state by asking myself easy arithmetic questions and did okay. I yelled for help but got no response. I realized I would have to get help, so I gave Will my warm clothes and food and set off with nothing but a windbreaker.”

Markian Feduschak, right, and Riley Gaines. Both work at the Walking Mountains Science Center in Colorado, as president and community science and hiking coordinator, respectively. Photo by Riley Gaines.

Toor recounts, “At 3:30 p.m., two climbers (Markian Feduschak and Riley Gaines) arrived. They had been climbing on Notchtop and had heard our calls. Seeing them walk toward me was one of the best sights of my life. They immediately took off their own puffies and put them on me. They were able to text with the Park Service on a Garmin InReach. They were calm and competent.

“Unfortunately, I was still cold because I was lying on the snow. Then, another party of three climbers appeared. They used my crampons to dig a trench, then lined it with packs, and dragged me into a sitting position. We got contact back from the Park Service confirming Mariella was with folks tending to her, which helped me relax. At that point, I hadn’t realized that she had serious injuries beyond a broken wrist.”

Colvin, unaware that aid had arrived for Toor, had “headed straight down over snow and rock slabs, avoiding cliffs and talus fields. I did stumble across one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen—with a waterfall, green meadow, wildflowers, and butterflies. I debated lying down to nap right there, but knew I had to keep going. I found that focusing on identifying wildflowers kept my mind in the here and now.

Colvin and Toor in the hospital. Toor says, “The whole experience really makes me see the good in people.” Photo by Will Toor.

“Finally, I reached Odessa Lake. This was a good place to yell for help, as my voice would carry across the water. I heard helicopters circling, and I felt sure they were going to Will and was really relieved. That gave me permission to lie down and rest, but within a few minutes I saw a man and his son. He sent his son in search of help and helped me on the rough trail around the lake to a campsite.

“A couple camping there had two tents. She set me up in a sleeping bag and air mattress. Someone else had a Garmin device and contacted the Park Service.”  

Meanwhile, still at the bottom of the East Couloir, Toor, Feduschak, and Gaines awaited more help. Toor recounts, “Around 6:30 p.m. we saw three yellow raincoats—the Park Service hasty team. They had warm blankets and painkillers. The adrenaline was wearing off, and the pain was setting in, so this was very welcome. Eventually, a big National Guard helicopter appeared. Just before 8 p.m. they dropped a litter and an attendant.”

Meanwhile, because of bad weather and impending darkness, Colvin had to stay at the hikers’ campsite overnight. “Two medics hiked in and spent the night with me, monitoring vital signs and administering painkillers,” she said. “They initially thought I would be able to walk out, but it became clear I would need an evacuation. So, the next morning two teams of rescuers transported me to a clearing to be picked up by a helicopter.”

Analysis

Toor and Colvin are very experienced, having climbed since the 1980s in the Tetons, Colorado, and the Canadian Rockies. One can argue in favor of the use of ropes and intermediate protection on snow climbs, but given the pair’s competence, such precaution might have only slowed them down, exposing them to even softer snow conditions.

The team’s late start due to the national park’s timed entry played an important role. Toor wrote that as they started up the couloir, “We were a bit concerned about the temperature.” While RMNP’s timed-entry system can be a challenge, it also reinforces best practices by encouraging an early arrival at the trailhead. A 5 a.m. start might well have prevented this accident.

Alpine climbing is full of unforeseen hazards. In line with Toor and Colvin’s cornice fracture theory, Park officials also suspect the cornice hadn’t melted out completely, contributing to its collapse.

Toor says, “SO MANY people put themselves out to save us, in little ways and in big ways, with skill, enormous effort, discomfort (the climbers with me had to jog to stay warm because I had their warm clothes, and that couple gave up their tent and sleeping bag for Mariella), and real risk (the helicopter team). I just can’t thank everyone enough. I am buying a Garmin InReach for us and one for my son Nicky.

(Sources: Will Toor, Mariella Colvin, Rocky Mountain National Park.)


Free Solo Rescue on El Cajon Mountain

Is this picture familiar? El Cajon Mountain, the site of a December free solo accident, was the location of a February rescue of a free soloist. Both incidents took place on Leonids (3 pitches, 5.9). The route is to the left of the prominent black roof and dihedral. Photo by Michael Sandler.

In December, we reported a tragic free solo accident in Southern California. It was the third free solo accident in Souther California during 2022.

Last month, a rescue of a stranded free soloist took place on the same crag. Incredibly, the latest incident, involving yet another unroped climber, unfolded on the exact same route!

Climbers, being passionate and opinionated, thrive on conjecture, estimations, and in some cases—judgment. Here, at Accidents in North American Climbing, we avoid emotional opinions. We report events and provide analysis of the facts. Our job is to educate by describing accidents and asking what went wrong. Because of that, we seldom do in-depth reporting of free solo accidents, as that style is a personal choice and there is usually scant helpful analysis to be made after the fact.

So, read on and make your own assessment here on the Mountain Project forum.


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Rescue & Medical Expense Coverage

Climbing can be a risky pursuit, but one worth the price of admission. Partner-level members receive $7,500 in rescue services and $5,000 in emergency medical expense coverage. Looking for deeper coverage? Sign up for Leader-level and receive $300k in rescue services.


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The Prescription — February 2023

The following story describes a top-rope solo accident from 2021. The report arrived too late to include in the 2022 Accidents book. Unfortunately, this type of mishap has become more common as many choose the efficiency of partner-free ascent for much of their outdoor climbing.

Device Disengaged from Rope

Snowshed Wall, Donner Summit, California

Snowshed Wall. A rappelling climber is visible near the same place that Dozier fell. PC: Ryan Dozier

On June 7, 2021, Ryan Dozier (37) was top-rope soloing at Snowshed Wall at Donner Summit, near Lake Tahoe. Near the top, he fell, plummeting 50 feet before his system caught his fall. Ryan picks up the story from here.

On that day, “I completed four different climbs using a rig that I have frequently used over the past 10 years. I usually fix two strands of a dynamic rope at the anchor. I attach a Petzl Micro Traxion to one strand and weight it at the bottom. I use a Trango Cinch assisted-braking device on the other, unweighted strand. I attach both devices to my harness belay loop via locking carabiners. 

Dozier’s ropes on Crack Of The Eighties. He top-roped the route with one hang a year after his accident. PC: Ryan Dozier

“By early afternoon, most people had left the crag due to the breezy conditions. I moved my ropes to the anchor of Crack of the Eighties (5.13a) and weighted one line at the bottom with a rope bag stuffed with the remainder of the strand. This was a difficult route I had climbed many times over the years. I decided to modify my soloing setup by only using the one strand of rope and the Micro Traxion. I decided to do this because it was windy and I was worried my unweighted rappel strand would get blown around the corner. I also did not want to pull slack through the Cinch. This was also my last climb, and I wanted to get it done and head home. This was the first time I have ever soloed with just one device. 

“I fell three times on the first three quarters of the route, and the device engaged each time. Several feet below the anchor, I was in a difficult layback with high feet and I remember looking down at the Micro Traxion and thinking something seemed off. The device and carabiner were a little twisted, and I took one hand off the rock to straighten it out. 

Dozier being treated in the same ER where he formerly worked. PC: Ryan Dozier

“Before I could touch [the device], a foot popped and I began a 50-foot free fall, acutely aware that the cam was not biting the rope. In an attempt to slow myself down, I grabbed the rope with both hands and sustained deep rope burns to eight fingers and both palms. This action probably kept me upright. While the route is vertical to slightly overhanging and mostly devoid of features, my left foot impacted a protrusion just before I hit the ground. This impact caused my torso to crunch, and when this happened, the Micro Traxion miraculously engaged on the rope and arrested my fall. My feet were three feet above the ground. I was not wearing a helmet.

“Two friends happened to be nearby and witnessed the fall. I’m an ER trauma nurse and former EMT. This background was invaluable in rapidly assessing injury and determining the safest plan of action. I immediately put my leather belay gloves on my damaged hands so that I could use them. I checked my head, neck, chest, and other extremities for pain. Finding none, I knew my main injury was my left ankle dislocation. I had no feeling in the foot and knew that I couldn’t waste time. I used a prusik to unweight the Micro Traxion, lowered to the ground on a Grigri, and immediately retrieved painkillers from my first-aid kit. Calling 911 was discussed and we decided to self-rescue rather than wait for EMS. My fixed line helped me lower down the short but steep approach trail, and my two friends helped me hop across the creek and reach the road. They drove me to the ER, where my leg was realigned. I underwent surgery about a week later. My left foot had sustained a sub-talar dislocation and fractures to four different bones. I have since returned to rock climbing at nearly the level I had been, thanks to a copious amount of physical and mental therapy.”

ANALYSIS

“I can’t find any recorded accounts of this type of accident, but I have heard that it has happened before. It is common at climbing areas around the world to use a single Micro Traxion for toprope soloing.* This is an ‘off-label’ use of the device. There are no documented reports of its failure to engage during dynamic loading, although I have heard some campfire talk about it happening. I believe that while climbing, the device was squeezed in my lap in just the right way to lock the device open. It then re-engaged when my foot slammed into the cliff.

“The Micro Traxion had no visible damage. The rope had no apparent damage. I’ve had many conversations with friends in rope access and SAR. The best we can figure is that, besides causing my torso to crunch and re-engage the Micro Traxion, the impact of my foot caused me to slow down enough to minimize the impact on the rope. A more dynamic load onto a toothed cam would likely have core shot, if not severed, the line. 

“I made choices that day to modify my time-tested solo rig for many reasons—the Micro Traxion had never failed to engage in the past, it was windy, I was anxious to go home, and I didn’t want to have to pull slack through the backup device. None of those were good reasons, but at the time I convinced myself they were. If I had not remained upright, I would have certainly sustained a head injury. There is no good reason not to wear a helmet. If my foot had not hit the rare protrusion on this section of the cliff, I would have had a ground fall and been gravely injured or killed. In a redundant rigging system, this accident would likely not have happened.” (Source: Ryan Dozier.)

*Editor’s Note: Most climbers (the ANAC editor included) use a variety of top-rope solo systems that incorporate elastic cord, surgical tubing, or even a headlamp strap to keep the primary device upright and taut. This maintains the device’s orientation in some configurations, and keeps it separated from a backup device.


Join the Club—United We Climb.

Get Accidents Sent to You Annually

Partner-level members receive the Accidents in North American Climbing book every year. Detailing the most noteworthy climbing and skiing accidents each year, climbers, rangers, rescue professionals, and editors analyze what went wrong, so you can learn from others’ mistakes.

Rescue & Medical Expense Coverage

Climbing can be a risky pursuit, but one worth the price of admission. Partner-level members receive $7,500 in rescue services and $5,000 in emergency medical expense coverage. Looking for deeper coverage? Sign up for the Leader level and receive $300k in rescue services.


More Analysis Of Top-Rope Device Malfunction

Big-wall climber and climbing instructor Yann Camus’ rope grab video provides some in-depth analysis of top-rope solo devices. The bottom line: Use a backup!

In another video, Camus examines more devices used by top-rope soloists. Along the way, he debunks some myths.

Different Devices, Similar Outcomes

Top-rope solo mishaps seem to be on the rise. From 2019 through 2021, four accidents involving other “off label” uses of devices on single ropes were reported in Accidents in North American Climbing. Two are below. 

Montezuma, Colorado

On the morning of September 19, 2021, Craig Faulhaber (41) fell to the ground while top-rope soloing Burning Down the Haus (5.13d). Faulhaber, a climber with 12 years of experience, set up his system using a single strand of 9.5mm dynamic rope. He fixed the rope and descended using a Petzl Grigri. For a self-belay, he switched to a Petzl Shunt attached to his harness’ belay loop with a locking, anti-cross-loading carabiner…

Vedauwoo, Wyoming

On August 20, 2019, a 26-year-old male drove to Vedauwoo, Wyoming for some after-work top-rope soloing. He set up a fixed line on To the Moon (5.10b/V0), a 35-foot crack with a bolted anchor. He used a Kong Duck mini-ascender with a paracord sling around his neck to keep the device high, prevent it from weighting the rope dynamically, and to keep it separate from a backup Petzl Micro Traxion…


ANAC Translations

As we announced last month, the 2022 Accidents in North American Climbing has been translated into Chinese. Earlier, a crew of volunteers translated the 2020 Accidents in North American Climbing into Spanish. Click the links below for more information and download the PDFs.


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The Prescription — Auto Belay Accident—January 2023

The following report will appear in the 2023 edition of Accidents in North American Climbing. You can purchase the 2022 book and many previous editions through the AAC Store.

*A previous version of this Prescription used a photo from the Spot Gyms, however, the accident DID NOT occur at any of the Spot gyms, it occurred in a gym in NC. There has never been an accident of this kind at the Spot gyms.*

Failure To Clip Into Auto Belay

Asheville, North Carolina

This month we have an indoor gym accident of a type that sadly occurs with some frequency. This accident has a happy ending and a powerful lesson.

On December 14, 2022, Adam Herzog (43) miraculously survived a fall in which he suffered severe injuries after failing to clip into an auto belay in a climbing gym. Upon finishing the climb, he simply let go, and fell 45 feet to the ground. “I feel very lucky to be alive and not paralyzed,” said Herzog.

In Herzog’s own words:

“The fall resulted in a skull fracture, bilateral pulmonary contusions, three spinal fractures, right proximal radius fracture, left distal radius fracture, right pilon fracture (ankle shattered), left fibula fracture and a severe concussion.” His recovery is ongoing, “I was in the ICU on a ventilator for two days, and in the hospital for 15 days. I am expected to make a pretty full recovery. The pilon fracture may have some long-term effects and I lost some extension in the right arm.”

His post-accident recollections:  

“I awoke in a fog of drugs. A tube was jammed down my throat. A ventilator forced air into my chest unnaturally with positive pressure. The next day I woke up extubated. My wife was there as always, helping me through another crash. But this one felt bigger than the others.  

Adam rappelling before his accident. PC: Zach Frayser

“The next fifteen days I lay on the slick mattress of a hospital bed, intermittently conscious, asleep, exhausted, confused, and occasionally keenly aware that I had a long recovery ahead. I spent the next several weeks mulling over the events of December 14th. ‘How could I be so stupid?’ I wondered again and again. I beat myself up, apologized to my friends, family, and the staff at the climbing gym. I could not believe I would climb to the top of a route without clipping in. It seemed impossible.

“My friends reassured me. ‘It was an accident, man. It happens.’ A surprising number of people had similar stories of friends who took big falls on auto belays. I googled it and found a number of gym related accident reports.”

Analysis

Herzog writes, “I’ve been a paramedic for 22 years and a nurse for 14. In the medical field we refer to the ‘Swiss Cheese Model’ of medical errors. All the holes line up and boom, somebody dies. My accident was a perfect storm of mistakes that coincided with catastrophic results. They are listed here in the interest of preventing other climbers from falling into the same trap:

1. Hubris: I am not an expert climber. But I am an elite whitewater kayaker. I have been padding for over thirty years. The morning of my fall I paddled the Green River at high water. Once off the Green, I thought my risk exposure was over for the day. I didn’t treat the gym with the same respect I brought to the river. I should have.

2. Heuristics: Heuristics are mental shortcuts. They help us navigate our daily lives and can be useful or harmful. In my mind, “outside = dangerous, inside = safe.” When I climbed outdoors, I neurotically practiced setting up belays, cleaning routes, and rappelling before heading out. But I saw the gym as contrived, manufactured, and fake. A fifty-foot wall is a fifty-foot wall. It doesn’t matter if there are four walls and a ceiling around it. 

3. Inattention: I don’t bring my phone to the climbing wall so that I am not distracted. But the day I fell, I was preparing for a paramedic recertification exam. I studied a book between routes. I wonder if that distraction contributed to my fall.

4. Deviation: I have a system I usually stick to religiously. I climb a route, unclip, walk away, and take 5-10 minutes to rest before I approach the wall again. Before I fell, I climbed halfway up a route and dropped back down to the ground. I unclipped but instead of walking away, I immediately got back on the wall. The small deviation from my normal routine removed the visual cues that usually lead to me clipping into my harness. I am 6’4” so when standing right next to the wall, my line of sight is well above the gate.

5. Redundancy: I was climbing alone so there was no one to double check my system. In top rope and lead belay we constantly check each other’s knots. But on the auto belay it’s up to the climber to double check his or her system. In my haste I neglected to check anything.

6. Focus: The route I was on was a white (marked) 5.10. That grade is the upper limit of what I climb. Because I was at the edge of my ability, I was ultra-focused on the route and holds. That is why I didn’t notice the rope was not retracting as I climbed. Had I been on an easier route I suspect I would have been more attentive.

Let’s wish Adam Herzog a swift recovery. PC: John Parmenter

“These six factors led to my fall. I sit in a wheelchair typing this up, grateful I will only have to live in it for a couple of months. I hope that by writing this, I may prevent future incidents.

“Auto belay devices almost never fail. But people do. As long as humans are involved, mistakes happen. Are there steps gyms could take to prevent other terrible falls? Maybe, but ultimately it is the climber’s responsibility to climb safely. The gym can provide measures to mitigate risk, but we must engage those measures, and know that if we work around them, there is nothing between us and the gym floor.”


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From The Editor

Happy New Year! I’m still in Spain, clipping bolts and enjoying the good things that this country has to offer. Chulilla attracts climbers of all levels to its world-class limestone walls and is especially busy during the Christmas and New Year holiday season.

This crag dates back to the 1990s, and as such, should be reasonably clear of loose rock. However, a few days ago, a climber dislodged a baseball-sized stone while we were at the crag. It landed amid a cluster of belayers and onlookers. No one was struck, but the next day, one of my partners took the warning to heart and showed up wearing a helmet for belaying. Last night, a different partner was stuck by a small rock, apparently dislodged by a flock of birds perched on a ledge. An informal count at the crag revealed that about fifty percent of climbers were wearing a helmet.

To wear a helmet is a personal choice. When I started climbing, virtually no one owned, much less wore, a climbing helmet. Helmet wearing was considered by many as unnecessary. These days, I wear helmets while adventure climbing and now bring them to the sport crag. It’s a hard-earned lesson, as over the decades, I’ve had several head-related climbing accidents—one in which I was struck on my helmet-less head by falling ice, two in which I fell and my helmet probably saved my life, and one in which I was struck by falling rock that narrowly missed my head. These accidents took place on ice, alpine, or big wall climbs. — Pete Takeda

For an in-depth and humorous take on helmet technology from our friends @HardIsEasy, see below.

Accidents in North American Climbing to be Translated to Chinese

The cover 2022 Accidents in North American Climbing.

Several leading Chinese climbers from Beijing Xiangpan Outdoor Sports, are planning to translate the 2022 Accidents in North American Climbing. According to Chinese climber Zhou Peng, “All our work is done out of passion and voluntariness, without remuneration, and free of charge for climbers.”

About ANAC

This educational book has been published annually by the American Alpine Club for 75 years. The mission has always been the same: publish stories and analysis of climbing accidents so that other climbers can learn about the causes of accidents and avoid similar problems in the future. All of the stories and photos in the publication are donated by climbers, rescuers, and park rangers who share the same goals.

This publication documents accidents in the United States, Canada, and Mexico, and some of the problems described here are unique to those locations. However, in the large majority of cases, these lessons will be useful to rock climbers and mountaineers in China or anywhere else in the world. With this in mind, we are very happy to see this translation of the 2022 edition of the Accidents in North American Climbing book, and we hope that Chinese students and climbers will learn a lot from these stories.

Dougald MacDonald, Executive Editor, American Alpine Club 


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The Prescription—Free Solo Fall— December 2022

The following report will appear in the 2023 edition of Accidents in North American Climbing. You can purchase the 2022 book and many previous editions through the AAC Store.

Free Solo Fall

Southern California, El Cajon Mountain, The Wedge

El Cajon Mountain, seen here, was scene of a recent free solo fatality. The route in question is Leonids, which climbs the face to the left of the angling dihedral and the sun-shade line. Photo: Michael Sandler

On December 4, Nathaniel Masahi Takatsuno (22) fell to his death while free soloing Leonids, a three-pitch 5.9 on The Wedge at El Cajon Mountain an hour east of San Diego.

Climber Michael Sandler witnessed the accident. In his report to Accidents, he wrote:

“As we were waiting (at the base), a single man walked by. I asked what his name was and we made some small talk. His name was Nate (Takatsuno), and he was a lab tech at University of California San Diego. He was alone but had a rope, so I asked him what route he was planning to do. He told me he wanted to solo Meteor—I asked if he was going to rope solo. He said no but was planning to carry up the rope in a pack and use it to rappel. I asked if he just didn't have any friends who wanted to climb, and he said that he did, but that he liked soloing. We observed that he was not planning to wear a helmet.

“At this point he started up the crag. He seemed gripped on even the third bolt—he was on the nearby Leonids (5.9) and not his intended route, Meteor (5.8). However, he made it up past the tricky start and kept heading up. As he did so, he would occasionally grab bolts; he had a small amount of gear with him to assist in this. He passed by another party that was already rappelling down the formation. They exchanged some words and asked if he was doing well. They reported that he was continuing to occasionally grab bolts.

“I was leading the first pitch of our route, when I felt a soft thud and gust of wind. I looked around and saw him fall to the ground.”

Sandler also said, “He (Takatsuno) was on the second pitch of either Meteor or Leonids, not sure. The two routes are very close together. He hit the trail and then continued down the steep hillside. Another party had just finished rappelling to the ground. I asked my partner Andrew to tie me off and I went direct into the closest bolt. A member of the other party said he was a Wilderness First Responder, so he went down the hillside to help. We immediately called 911 and were on the phone with the operator for the next 40 minutes.”

Helicopter from the San Diego County Sheriff’s Department lowering a paramedic to the accident scene. Photo: Michael Sandler

Sandler continued, “Helicopters arrived in approximately 45 minutes and dropped a paramedic. He took our info, looked at Nate, and then was picked up by the helicopter. We called the sheriff's office to figure out what they wanted us to do. They made it sound like it was alright for us to go, but we felt that they would be unable to find the body without very clear markers. We used climbing tape to mark the location.”

According to Climbing.com, Takatsuno’s body could not be recovered until the following day due to the late time of the accident.

Analysis

While we cannot ascertain what caused the fall, the route was in the sun, which may have been a factor. Sandler wrote, “It's south-facing and pretty inland, so it gets pretty hot (and it was definitely pretty warm that day). The easier climbing is usually techy face climbing, it never quite feels 'comfortable.’”

Rock quality may have played a factor. The Wedge was described in a 2010 Mountain Project post as having “plenty of ready-to-snap micro flakes and a few larger hollow bits.” ANAC Southern California reporter Christy Rosa, who has climbed Leonids, says, “The route he was on is 350 to 400 feet long, mostly solid granite, but a bit crumbly and flakey at a few points.” She adds, “It is one of the best routes in San Diego, so it's well traveled.”

Climbers on Meteor, the route to the right of Leonids. It is clear how close the falling free soloist was to Sandler. Photo: Josh Bedard

While there’s not much educational nor technical analysis to be made in free solo accidents, Rosa notes that this incident was the third free solo death in Southern California this year. As an ER doctor, her assessment is suitably objective, “The increased number of free solo accidents is simple math: More people are free soloing. This is likely a combination of seeing others successfully do it, and perhaps an increase in risk tolerance, as the pandemic has changed most of us.”

Sandler had several things to say. He pointed out that, “If, for whatever reason, you must free solo, do so on climbs well below your ability, ideally ones you have done before. From our discussion with Nate and his apparent discomfort on the climb, this was not an appropriate climb to be ropeless on.” Perhaps Sandler’s most important observation was to encourage soloists to think of others. “As a free soloist, you put the lives of those below you at risk. He flew by less than five feet from me; a collision could have led to serious trauma for myself.” Witnessing trauma can itself be traumatic. Sandler adds, “Thankfully, I'm doing okay. I had regular flashbacks for probably a week or so afterward, but those have thankfully become less frequent.”


Join the Club—United We Climb.

Get Accidents Sent to You Annually

Partner-level members receive the Accidents in North American Climbing book every year. Detailing the most noteworthy climbing and skiing accidents each year, climbers, rangers, rescue professionals, and editors analyze what went wrong, so you can learn from others’ mistakes.

Rescue & Medical Expense Coverage

Climbing can be a risky pursuit, but one worth the price of admission. Partner-level members receive $7,500 in rescue services and $5,000 in emergency medical expense coverage. Looking for deeper coverage? Sign up for the Leader level and receive $300k in rescue services.


Happy Warnings from the Editor

It’s the holiday season at Chulilla in eastern Spain. It’s my first time in this world-class area, and I’m fortunate to be clipping bolts on warm Spanish limestone. It’s a reminder that, while favoring athleticism over risk, sport climbing arguably holds perils for a greater number of climbers than other discipline, due to the sheer volume of participants and the repetition of critical tasks. The latter includes lowering, untying, retying, taking, and catching leader falls. Beginners and experts alike can benefit from remembering good belay practice, and even then, accidents can occur when unusual factors come into play.

A few days ago, I was belaying a partner on a difficult 40-meter pitch. He was using a brand new 8.9mm rope in order to write an online gear review. Though there were plenty of falls and takes, one hazard we avoided was unintentional slippage from a skinny and very slick rope. This can be an issue even when the belayer does (almost) everything right.

So, as I wish you safe and happy holidays, I’ll leave you with a short video that addresses this potential hazard. The video, which focuses on the Petzl Grigri but applies in similar ways to any assisted-braking belay device, is from a YouTube channel called Hard Is Easy. @HardIsEasy takes an analytic and often entertaining approach to gear, training, and technique. — Pete Takeda


DMM Swivel Devices Recalled

Recently, DMM was made aware of a near-miss incident involving the failure of a DMM Director connector. These and similar devices are frequently used by rescuers and some possibly by big-wall climbers. Though the user was unhurt, DMM has issued a recall for nine items in their product line.


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EDUCATE: The Art of Shralpinism, with Jeremy Jones

Legendary backcountry snowboarder Jeremy Jones describes being in the mountains as “The idiot’s guide to the present moment.” This wisdom and so much more shines through in this interview with Jeremy about his new book, The Art of Shralpinsm: Lessons from the Mountains. Shralpinism, or the art of shredding and alpinism combined, is, according to Jeremy, a mix of the wisdom of reading avalanche danger, the science of changing conditions due to climate change, the art of evaluating risk and pushing past fear, and so much more. Jeremy shares stories from his many years of snowboarding in Alaska and other big mountain ranges, his tips on training, why he fell in love with going up as well as flowing down mountains, why most climbers should learn a little something about snow, and how to wrestle with the hard lessons the mountains teach you about danger, risk, and confidence. Listen in to this episode to get stoked and learn from the legendary big mountain shredder, originator of Jones Snowboards and Protect Our Winters, and devoted practitioner of the Church of the Seven-day Recreationalists.

You can get a copy of “The Art of Shralpinism: Lessons from the Mountains” here: www.mountaineers.org/books/books/th…-the-mountains



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Episode Resources:

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Learn more about Protect Our Winters

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CLIMB: The 10th Mountain Division and the Evolution of Climbing after WWII

You’ve probably heard of the 10th Mountain Division, but did you know that climbing is just as or MORE important than skiing in shaping this division of expert mountaineering troops? In this episode, we sat down with Christian Beckwith, the creator of the 90 Pound Rucksack Podcast, and writer of a book by the same name, to talk about how climbers influenced the creation of the 10th Mountain Division, how climbing itself was critical to a battle in Italy that helped facilitate the end of the WWII, and the many gear developments that evolved from the 10th Mountain Division that shaped the climbing and mountaineering boom after the war. If you’re a history buff, you are going to especially love this episode. But even as someone who doesn’t have a particular connection to history, or especially military history, you can’t deny that tracing the impact of climbing on a world scale hits the spot for anyone who loves this sport.



Listen to more history of the 10th Mountain Division and their impact on climbing history on The Ninety Pound Rucksack podcast.


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The Prescription—November 2022

The Ice Climbing Atlas Project

Avalanche Observations from Popular Ice Climbs in the Canadian Rockies

Our friends in the Canadian Rockies take avalanches seriously. The terrain is big, cold, and snowy. The Rockies are also a popular ice climbing venue that holds a vast trove of some of the best ice in the world. However, those who want to climb cascades, gullies, smears, and drips in this region must pay heed to the perils of avalanches. Fortunately, Avalanche Canada, a not-for-profit organization dedicated to public avalanche safety that issues daily avalanche forecasts throughout the winter and provides avalanche awareness and education programs, recently started the Ice Climbing Atlas Project.

Rogan’s Gully has a roadside location and moderate climbing, making it a popular outing. As shown, though, once in the gully it’s near impossible to get out of harm’s way should something come down. Photo: Avalanche Canada/Grant Statham

The Ice Climbing Atlas Project started through an ongoing collaboration between Avalanche Canada, their ambassador Sarah Hueniken, and Grant Statham, a visitor safety specialist for Banff National Park. Hueniken and Statham are among the most experienced ice climbers in the range and are also certified guides. The atlas is intended to provide an overview of historical avalanche observations from popular ice climbs in the Rockies. According to the website, this work in progress will be regularly updated as information on climbs gets collected.

The Ice Climbing Atlas Project provides an Avalanche Terrain Exposure Scale (ATES) rating for eight very popular ice climbs. According to Parks Canada, the ATES categorizes avalanche terrain based on unchanging characteristics. By using the ATES, climbers will get a sense of the type of avalanche terrain threatening their proposed route and its approach.

The Ice Climbing Atlas merges graphics with actual route photos to illustrate avalanche hazards. Photo: Avalanche Canada/Grant Statham

Cascade Waterfall is close to the road, moderate in grade, and sits in the sun. It has also seen many unfortunate avalanches originating from terrain above it. Photo: Avalanche Canada/Grant Statham

Cascade Waterfall avalanche accidents from the ANAC archive: Report 1; Report 2

The atlas also provides other crucial information for each climbing route. This includes data on how often these routes get climbed; information on the frequency of avalanches; analyses regarding the time of year and frequency of climbing; presence of avalanche debris; graphical representation of the avalanche start zones and run-outs; and reports of actual avalanches/accidents.

As noted on the site: Avalanche observations are collected through surveys of local climbers conducted by Sarah Hueniken. Our hope is that by sharing historical data, climbers can better understand the avalanche hazard that exists on these popular climbs. We strongly encourage all ice climbers to always carry avalanche safety gear—transceiver, probe, and shovel.

The Ice Climbing Atlas Project points the way to the future. Hopefully, an organization in the United States will eventually create something along these same lines.


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Get Accidents Sent to You Annually

Partner-level members receive the Accidents in North American Climbing book every year. Detailing the most noteworthy climbing and skiing accidents each year, climbers, rangers, rescue professionals, and editors analyze what went wrong, so you can learn from others’ mistakes.

Rescue & Medical Expense Coverage

Climbing can be a risky pursuit, but one worth the price of admission. Partner-level members receive $7,500 in rescue services and $5,000 in emergency medical expense coverage. Looking for deeper coverage? Sign up for Leader-level and receive $300k in rescue services.


FALL AND SPRING AVALANCHES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES: THE EDITOR’S STORY

In the Rockies, winter is not the only season in which avalanches pose a climbing hazard. It can snow during any month of the year, so fall, spring, and even summer can be hazardous for climbers.

Avalanches in the Rockies can be huge and often follow the climber’s line of ascent. Photo: Wikimedia Commons/David Wilson

In September 1997, my climbing partner and I drove up to Canada with an eye on alpine routes. Conditions were typically mercurial—one day an alpine rock route would be dry, and the next morning it would be covered with verglas. On another day, a different route would be filled with blue ice, and on the next it would be flushed by an avalanche every 15 minutes, spawned on the slopes far above the climbing route. We always erred on the side of safety, waiting for days on end after storms before venturing onto a climb. Even approaches could be perilous.

The next spring we drove up and met the one and only Jeff Lowe, intent on doing a new route above the Icefields Parkway. Sure enough some storms rolled through, costing us several days. Lowe was on a tight schedule and departed while the remaining two of us decided to scope out a route on a big mountain that was fairly close to the road.

To get a better view, we pulled off the highway and skied across a lake and into the forest on the far side. There, below an open slope—read: avalanche path—we pulled out the binoculars to scope out the climb. The route we had in mind followed a large gully that cut across the face before joining a couloir leading to the crux rock band below the summit. The sky was clear blue, the temperatures were cold, and the air still. After ten minutes of observation, we turned our backs to ski down in search of a different perspective.

Rockies ice climbing is world class but comes with a host of big-mountain hazards. Photo: Wikimedia Commons/Dwayne Reilander

Above we heard a faint crack and turned to watch as a puff of powder snow in the upper couloir wafted down. It grew larger and larger. It was a beautiful sight as the cloud billowed and slowly descended the gully. After a few moments we could hear a dull roar growing louder and louder. We turned to each other and wordlessly asked, “How big is this?” The cloud grew bigger and bigger and closer and closer. We began skiing faster and faster away from the face. I looked over my shoulder and saw to my horror that as the cloud struck the lower slopes it neither slowed nor dissipated.

At this point we were skiing as fast as we could. Behind us, we could sense the pressure change as the avalanche pushed the air in its path. I glanced over my shoulder again. The cloud engulfed us and we crouched in a dark, seething mass of crystals that pelted us with little bullets of ice. After several long moments the roaring subsided and light penetrated the darkness. We shook the snow off our jackets and stood laughing with relief at what had been a very close call.

The Rockies holds a vast range of elevations, exposure, rock quality, and climbing styles each with its own set of complexities. I have climbed in the Canadian Rockies on over a dozen occasions and I still feel like I have so much to learn. For a reasonably simple explanation of the Rockies climbing seasons with general seasonal avalanche information, see Will Gadd’s webpage on Rockies climbing seasons.


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The Sharp End: Impaled on Mt. Rainer

Mountaineering holds a host of hazards besides avalanches. Freezing cold, high winds, and falling rocks can plague any ascent, but what happens when a climber falls and gets skewered by his own ice axe? A climber named Aavron was on Mt. Rainier when he fell, pulling his climbing partner down a slippery slope with him. During the fall, he was impaled by his ice axe. Listen to this episode of the Sharp End Podcast to hear what happened and what Aavron learned from his accident.


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The Prescription — October 2022

The following report will appear in the upcoming edition of Accidents in North American Climbing. The 2022 books are being prepared for shipment and will start going into the mail next week.

Stranded | Exposure and Weather

Yosemite National Park, Half Dome

Nick and Kate being hoisted to the summit of Half Dome after the storm in mid-October of 2021. Big Sandy and Thank God ledges are clearly outlined below by the plastering of fresh snow. Photo: Jack Cramer

In the evening of October 17, two climbers, Kate (28) and Nick (26), started up the Regular Northwest Face of Half Dome (23 pitches, 5.9 C2) after completing The Nose on El Capitan (31 pitches, 5.9 C2) earlier in the same day. Nick and Kate were both experienced climbers attempting a sub-24-hour link-up of the two walls. They failed to summit Half Dome when they were caught in a winter storm, five pitches from the top. 

After finishing The Nose, Kate and Nick ate lunch and started up the approach to Half Dome. The weather forecasted a 90 percent chance of precipitation around 1:30 a.m. Despite that, neither talked about rescheduling.

Kate and Nick started climbing the Northwest Face around 6 p.m. They made good progress, but around midnight they were engulfed in a winter-like storm. At this point, Nick and Kate were simul-climbing through 5.9 and 5.10 terrain, with snow and ice accumulating on ledges and in cracks. Around 12:30 a.m., they arrived at Big Sandy Ledge, atop pitch 18.

Nick and Kate are visible on a snow-covered Big Sandy Ledge in lower right. The icy Zig-Zag pitches are directly above this ledge. Photo: Jack Cramer

Nick began leading the first pitch of the “Zig-Zags” (pitch 19) with increasing difficulty. He was scraping ice out of the cracks and, at one point, slipped off a large foot ledge and fell back onto his daisy chain. Their gear was freezing solid, and Kate’s hands were losing their ability to function.  

Nick still wanted to try and summit, but Kate did not think safely continuing was possible. At this point, they had not sustained any injuries, but the pitches ahead included Thank God Ledge and multiple slab pitches, none of which is inconsequential, especially if covered with ice and snow. They called 911 at 1:50 a.m. and were told to call back at 6 a.m. In a few hours the snow stopped falling, the wind died down, and the temperature dropped. At first light, the conditions on the route were even icier. At 6 a.m., they called search and rescue back and confirmed they needed assistance.

Shortly afterward, Yosemite Search and Rescue (YOSAR) gathered for a technical rescue on Half Dome. The plan was to fly rescuers, ropes, and all necessary equipment to the summit with a helicopter and lower one member of YOSAR to Nick and Kate and then haul them up to the summit. Due to the cold conditions, the helicopter got delayed because the rotors needed to de-ice.

Nick and Kate huddling for warmth on snow-covered Big Sandy Ledge. Photo: Jack Cramer

Later that morning, conditions allowed the helicopter to fly. A rescuer was lowered to Nick and Kate, carrying jackets and warm beverages. Once the rescuer attached to Kate and Nick, two teams on top raised the climbers to the summit. Miraculously, neither Kate nor Nick sustained any cold-related injuries.

ANALYSIS

Heed the forecast. Severe storms can roll through Yosemite any month of the year, but early spring and late fall often catch climbers unaware. In this case, the team saw a forecast for the Valley floor (4,000 feet elevation) with precipitation starting at 1:30 a.m., and they were surprised when the storm started two hours earlier. The conditions on Half Dome (8,846 feet) were unsurprisingly much more intense and severe. 

Nick and Kate on the summit of Half Dome. Photographer Jack Cramer reported that the pair recovered and successfully completed The Nose/Half Dome link-up in spring 2022. Photo: Jack Cramer

Don’t allow the goal to blind your judgment. The link-up of Half Dome and El Capitan in under 24 hours is an admirable goal for any Valley climber. After a season of training and a plan set in motion, it can be tough to decide to bail, especially given that the climbers had completed El Capitan and were “on track” for a sub-24-hour time. They ignored a known weather risk to complete their goal. 

Communicate openly with your partner. Many accidents and rescues can be avoided with better communication. Any reservations or concerns should be immediately communicated. Especially with disappointment on the line, it can be challenging to start the conversation. Partners, particularly new partners, should regularly check in and practice their communication like other climbing skills. Sure, one partner might be disappointed at first, but if it means not having to spend the night in a winter storm or worse, it might be worth it.

Although they discussed the weather, there was no conversation about a worst-case scenario. The climbers didn’t discuss the possibility of not making it to the top nor what the upper pitches would be like in a storm. The final pitch of the Regular Northwest Face is slab climbing with limited opportunities to aid. There should always be a conversation about how to retreat if there is no real possibility of going up.

Pack the proper layers. If you know there is a chance of precipitation, you should pack suitable layers. Kate and Nick both had warm gloves (Kate was not initially wearing them), base layers, and hardshell jackets. However, neither had hardshell pants, and they felt like that was a major mistake. Both Kate and Nick have experience with ice/mixed climbing in winter conditions and thought they could have possibly self-rescued the following morning with the appropriate layers.

A National Park Service rescue helicopter departs the sunny Valley floor on the way to the snowy and frozen summit of Half Dome. Photo: Jack Cramer

Know when to call for a rescue (and have the ability to communicate). It’s tough to know when the right time is. Ultimately, Kate decided they should call for help when she felt like she could not safely use her hands. The need for a rescue became more apparent when they were rappelling back down to Big Sandy after attempting the Zig-Zags. The ropes were extremely icy, making the rappel dangerous. They rappelled with Grigris and used slings as “third-hand” backup prusiks, and did not feel it was safe to try and retreat further. There were legitimate concerns that if they attempted to continue upward, Kate and/or Nick could have gotten injured; this would have made the situation much worse and the rescue more complex.

They only carried one cell phone with them, and fortunately they were able to make a phone call to 911. To communicate with YOSAR, they kept the phone off when not in use and kept the phone next to their bodies to keep it warm and preserve the battery. (Source: Yosemite National Park Climbing Rangers.)

This report is adapted from a story at Yosemite Climbing Information, published by Yosemite rangers. 


SEASONAL HAZARDS: THE EDITOR’S STORY

The shoulder-season months of March/April and October/November can be perilous in Yosemite. After a long winter spent indoors, clear and sunny weather in early spring can lure climbers onto the walls. In fall, peak fitness honed over summer, combined with seemingly endless weeks of perfect weather, can tempt climbers to squeeze in one last end-of-the-season send.  

As the old saying goes, “Good judgment comes from bad experience.” Take it from Pete Takeda, editor of ANAC:

“I spent seven years living in Yosemite. Over that period, I climbed many big walls and suffered more than a few bad-weather epics. One instance stands out. 

“I was coming off a long winter and was itching to get on a wall. So in early April, my partner and I launched up an El Cap route called Lost World, foolishly ignoring a storm forecast. There was no internet back then, but the San Francisco Chronicle, delivered to the Valley on a daily basis, had a generally solid forecast printed in plain black and white on the front page. After two days of climbing, a storm clobbered us above the point of no return, and we spent the next three days soaked to the bone. My shelter was a thin sleeping bag and a leaky bivy sack. On day one of the storm, we foolishly declined an NPS rescue.

On day two I became concerned about hypothermia and asked my partner, ‘Are we going to make it?’ He was a veteran survivor of epics on walls and big mountains. His reply was frightening. ‘How the f*** should I know?’ 

“Day three dawned with sleet, but by noon the sun had peeked out. We jumped into action, climbing for our lives, and barely summited during a few hours of good weather. I’d lost ten pounds and acquired a case of trench foot. Had we had another day of bad weather I might not be sharing this tale.”


FROM THE ACCIDENTS VAULT: HALF DOME STORIES

These three rescues involved legendary climbers caught in storms on Half Dome:

In 1968, Warren Harding and Galen Rowell got caught in a storm on a new route.

On 27 October Warren Harding (44) and Galen Rowell (28) began an ascent on the unclimbed South Face of Half Dome. It was late in the year, but the weather looked good for the future and they both had equipment in the experimental stages, namely a single suspension bivouac hammock and shelter which would feasibly protect them from the weather in case a storm did break….

In 1986, Steve Bosque, Mike Corbett, and John Middendorf were trapped by an epic storm on the South Face.

(The trio) had been climbing the South Face route on Half Dome since March 4… McDevitt (a Search and Rescue team member) reported by radio that he had attempted to contact the climbers with a loudspeaker and that they had yelled that they needed to be rescued… McDevitt reported blizzard conditions in Little Yosemite Valley with heavy snowfall and strong winds…. 

Scenes from the 1986 South Face epic. Photos: John Middendorf Collection. Read Middendorf’s harrowing personal account here.

In 1975, budding young Stonemasters Dave Diegelman and Bill Price were rescued from the Regular North Face.

Dave Diegelman (17) and Bill Brice (17) had been climbing for the full day of August 19, 1975, on Half Dome’s Regular North (sic) Face, VI 5.8, A3. It started to rain moderately hard at 3 p.m. The climbers continued on for one more hour to reach the bivouac ledge (13th pitch). The rain continued all night and was accompanied by freezing temperatures…. 


EDUCATE: Trends in Climbing Accidents, with Pete Takeda

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.


EDUCATE: Inside the Life of Search and Rescue Teams

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 Prescription Newsletter is published monthly by the American Alpine Club.

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 accidents@americanalpineclub.org.


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 accidents@americanalpineclub.org.

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 accidents@americanalpineclub.org. 

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 accidents@americanalpineclub.org.

 

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 accidents@americanalpineclub.org. 

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.