The Coldest of Ice Climbs

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(Part 2 of the Minus 40 Degrees Saga.)
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My entry above described the agony of bivouacking in the extreme temperature of minus 40 degrees F in the Adirondacks (February 1979). These next two entries will describe the ice climbing that week.
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All the climbing was done in Chapel Pond Pass. Chapel Pond Slab is a 500 foot face with a long, high, steep direct line at the very top. There are a host of other, mostly shorter climbs nearby.
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The great American climber, Yvon Chouinard, had just published his book, Climbing Ice, an incredible Bible of ice climbing. I had studied it diligently. Every ice climber around was discussing the techniques and lore of this work, and we were eager to see what we could do.
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One morning, I met two hardy North Carolina climbers who had never experienced an Adirondack winter. They were also relative novices at ice climbing like myself.
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I was alone and really wanted another human on the other end of my rope, so I schemed to team up with these guys, since they seemed sensible and reliable. The problem is that a rope of three climbers is too cold in winter, because there is a lot of wait-time while only one climber moves at a time. A rope of two is faster and warmer.
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I plotted to con them into roping up with me. I wandered up to the foot of the Slab area with them, giving them a guided tour. The entire lower section of the Slab is lower angle and was covered with extremely climbable firm frozen snow - very solid and very good for using the flat-footed French Technique, which is restful and really saves the leg muscles from the strain of Front-Pointing.
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Front-Pointing is more instinctive, like climbing a ladder, but it tires you out quickly. It is the necessary technique on extremely steep ice. French Technique is awkward and hard to learn, but I had been practicing. So, I started "French-stepping" immediately up the face, un-roped, looking like a French guide, chattering away about climbing techniques and history.
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It worked. They thought I was an accomplished ice climber, and, when I asked them if they wanted to rope up with me, they said yes. We worked our way up the lower part of the snow-slope, me teaching them how to conserve energy by French-stepping.
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We got to the steep direct section of the Slab and decided it was too hard for any of us to lead, as it would require sustained Front-Pointing on steep brittle ice. So we opted for a shorter, less steep, leftward route up an icy gully that bypassed the harder section. I led up, Front-Pointing and placing several ice screws for protection, then anchored to a tree and belayed them both up to the top with me. We rappelled down another gully.
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They camped that night near my bivouac on Chapel Pond, then they decided the next morning that it was too cold, and they headed home. I never even got their names. I now had to look for new climbing partners.
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I ran into two climbers from southwestern Pennsylvania, Andy and Bruce. We talked and decided to climb the direct steep Slab route tomorrow. These guys were great technical climbers with excellent knowledge of climbing and its history. They were safety minded and cool. But they were not prepared for Adirondack winter and were not dressed for it. They wore knickers and knee-socks, suitable for a summer climb in the Alps. Gloves instead of mittens. And, worst of all, they stayed the nights in motels, ate in restaurants, and drove in their pickup truck to the climbs. By being in heated environments, the shock of minus 40 degrees was too much, and they would become frostbitten in the end.
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We started up the Slab, me free soloing again up the snowy lower part French-style, while they were safely roped up but going too slow. By my being in constant but relaxed motion, I neither sweated nor got cold. We got to the steep ice wall at the top section of the Slab, and I roped up with them, tying on to the second man, Bruce. Andy led, and I was third. He led boldly and decisively up and over the top. The second man climbed up next, while Andy belayed him.
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I was all ready to follow on belay, when a voice from above asked, over the screaming wind: "Can you climb off the face on your own? We cannot bring you up." They could not belay me up to them, and my guess was that they were too cold in the brutal summit wind. I yelled back: "Okay, but untie my rope and let me retrieve it." My rope fell back down to my feet. I went off to the left and ascended the gully I had led with the Carolina guys, but I did it roped solo this time. Damn, it was cold up there on top in the wind.
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I traversed over the top of the Slab to meet my two former rope-mates, only to see them slowly staggering up to me. From a distance, I assessed the situation immediately: these guys were severely hypothermic and in great danger in this frigid wind. When I reached them, their speech was slurred and eyes glazed. Their thinking was slow and indecisive, and all I could understand was that they were cold and their hands and feet hurt terribly. They asked: "How will we get down?" I started feeding them chocolate, nuts and other stuff, and giving them lots of water. I tied them to me and led them over to a wooded cliff with plenty of trees for rappel.
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Their hands would not function well, so I tied all knots and rigged all rappels. After many rappels, we got down out of the wind and to the bottom of the cliff, then we trudged back to where their truck was parked. They headed back to town, while I settled in for a night's bivouac again as the Dharma Bum "Hobo of Chapel Pond."
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We had planned to climb Chouinard's Gully together the next day, but they never showed up, and I had to climb it alone, roped solo. When I rappelled to the bottom of this climb, after completing it, my friends showed up, looking a bit beat. Andy's earlobe was frostbitten and Bruce had badly frostbitten fingers. They were easily chilled all over, in pain, and on their way home.
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I had decided that morning that this would be my last climbing day this week and that I would head home by dark. I could not bear to spend a 7th night in bivouac at minus 40 degrees. My fingers were cracked and bleeding from the cold, and it was painful to do anything with them.
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I had honed my winter camping skills, avoided frostbite, had done some ice climbing at a higher level of boldness than anything I had ever experienced before. I had watched a cold Moon travel across the skies, lighting up a vast, frozen world. I had a great week's vacation.
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[Part 3 of this saga: Chouinard's Gully]
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-Zenwind.