Chouinard’s Gulley

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Part 3 of the Minus 40 Degrees Saga
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This is the third and last entry about my February 1979 ice climbing trip to the Adirondack Mountains when it was 40 degrees below Zero all week. On the last day, I climbed Chouinard's Gully, the ice climb I had most wanted to do.
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This is an ice-filled gully named after the great Yvon Chouinard who first climbed it in the late sixties. It is at Chapel Pond Pass.
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My two buddies from the day before did not show up, and it was too cold to wait around, so I decided to do a solo climb of Chouinard's Gully – roped solo.
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The hardest parts of Chouinard's Gully are near the bottom. The easier upper sections go on through the trees for near 400 feet above the pond. I was armed with an ice axe and a short hammer, both with the classic curved "Alpine" style pick that shattered ice more than penetrated it, and which has been replaced since by more re-curved styles. The crampons on my boots were old-style, and my boots were non-insulated French Galibier Super-guide boots.
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The first crux near the bottom went alright, with only a few scares. I felt like a real mountain climber now.
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Way up, on the second crux, I found myself on a vertical wall of hard, blue, brittle, shattering water ice, while I was running out of strength and starting to freak out. I had "sewing-machine legs," where my legs shook violently, threatening to pop my flimsy front-point crampon placements out. My arms were tiring out quickly and my hands were numb. For every one good axe placement, I had to hammer four times, breaking huge plates of ice off which almost knocked my foot placements out. I looked down below my heels at my last ice-screw placement, far, far below. I got really scared. I thought: "I'm going to fall." And I almost did.
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The Zen of Fear.
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I looked down, and knew that down-climbing was unthinkable. I looked up to my right and to my left, and I decided to make one desperate attempt to climb up and to the left to escape off the wall. Crampons almost coming out, I loosened my left-hand hammer-pick and tried for a quick and adequate stick off to the left.
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As I was doing this, a lyric of poetry or song came to my mind from somewhere: "Don't stop me now...." I swung, and the pick stuck. Not a bomb-proof placement. Just marginal. But it stuck. So I kicked in my left crampon further to the left, and then my right one. Then I loosened the right-hand ice axe and, as I was getting ready to plant it directly above my head, the lyrics repeated in my head: "Don't stop me now...." And, after three desperate swings, the axe grabbed a rather feeble hold. Now, with two marginal hand placements, I started to climb up with higher foot placements, and, while doing so, the rest of the lyrics came to me: "...‘cause I'm havin' such a good time." Then, wack in another, higher, left-hand placement, and then the right.
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As I moved up, the lyrics kept cycling through my head. At one point, my axe was shattering the ice and not getting any kind of stick at all, and I got that old feeling of "I'm going to fall." The legs were crapping out, my left-hand hammer would never hold me by itself, and the fear was at my throat. "DON'T ... STOP ... ME ... NOW...." Swing, kick, kick, hammer, kick, kick, sweat, tremble ... "...'cause I'm havin' such a good time." "Don't stop me now...."
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And I moved up and off the vertical wall onto a gentler slope. That song saved my life – or at least saved me from a most grievous fall -- and I could not identify the singer at that point.
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I finished the rest of the climb above, which was much easier. At 400 feet above Chapel Pond, I felt like the champion of the world. I rappelled down the entire climb in several sections, while fragments of that song were triumphantly running through my mind. "Two hundred degrees, that's why they call me Mr. Fahrenheit. I'm traveling at the speed of light."
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"I'm a shooting star, leaping through the sky." "Don't stop me now, ‘cause I'm havin' such a good time! Don’t stop me now!"
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As I rappelled the last pitch down to the pond, I noticed the two guys from the day before that were supposed to do this climb with me. They were quite damaged by the cold from yesterday's Chapel Pond Slab climb. They were badly frostbitten and were going home. They could hardly believe that I had soloed the Gulley (even if using rope as a safety backup).
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I had had enough of bivouacking and climbing in minus 40 temperatures for 6 days and nights, so the road sounded good to me also. As I fired up my car to head home, the radio played a song that had been on the air a lot in the last few weeks. I suddenly recognized it. It was my song: "Don't Stop Me Now," by Queen.
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"I'm havin' such a good time. Don’t stop me now!"
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-Zenwind.