JJ nearing the end of the approach. The ice flow above is the objective. On the left-hand side is the ultra classic Murchison Falls, WI4. The right hand flow is Virtual Reality, the route we climbed, getting a grade of WI6
Day 4
Day 4 began with almost another heartbreak and failure. We had originally planned on climbing the classic route Nemesis on the Stanley Headwall. Neither of us had done this route and we were fairly unfamiliar with the area. We had thought that we would be able to see the route from the road. When we reached the point in the park where we had anticipated being able to view the route, we looked up and saw a partially formed ice climb near up high in the cirque. After consulting Mikel later, we realized we were looking at the wrong thing, and Nemesis cannot be viewed from where we were, but at the time we didn't know that. Hiking two hours up just to reach a route that wasn't climbable was not super enticing to us. Disheartened, we began to debate a backup plan. It had been quite warm the last few days, with temperatures just barely hovering around freezing. It seemed all the more difficult objectives that we wanted to climb within our ability limit would probably not be in. Our best bet would be to drive further north to Icefields Parkway where it is colder, but having already driven to the trailhead for the Stanley Headwall, this would mean yet another terribly late start. On top of the hour we had driven out of our way, we had to drive another 1.5 hours north to reach the Parkway, and it was already close to 10 AM. The approach would be long as well, at least an additional hour and a half. But this was our last day, and last chance to do something rad before needing to return to normal life... so if it came down to it, we decided we were both prepared to have a long epic, climbing through the night. Thats what headlamps are for after-all.
JJ looks dissappointedly at what we thought was Nemesis... we were wrong, but it was enough to discourage us from hiking up there.
We refuel on both gasoline and espresso in the next small town. And reach the trailhead around 12 PM. I suppose this is sort of becoming our style... super late starts, lots of coffee (for me only) and then climb as fast as we can so as to spend minimal time in the dark cold Canadian nights.
The hike in goes relatively well, although JJ manages to get me thinking about bears again with a story about an ice climber that got attacked by one on this very approach. I'm not too concerned right now, but I start thinking about how the hike out in the dark is going to go, when my mind will definitely be recounting this story in my head and playing tricks on me.
We reach the bowl from which you can view the whole climb and are blown away. It looks incredible, and has formed with a lot more ice then is normal. Feeling Psyyycheeed!!! JJ falls over once or twice while putting his crampons on, and I make fun of him. Spirits are high as we solo up the first easy access pitches of Murchison before splitting right to go up Virtual Reality. The route has formed with an interesting series of frozen ice roofs on the first pitch, and the second pitch is full of cauliflower shaped ice formations on steep terrain. It is going to be an entertaining day for certain!
JJ gets moving on the first pitch. It feels sort of cold, and I transition into my belay dance to stay warm. I like to shift my weight back and forth to the rythm of whatever song I have stuck in my head at the moment, dancing. It seems to at least trick me into thinking that I am warmer. The terrain up until the ice roofs looks pretty mellow, and JJ cruises up it without incident. When he reaches the roof, he pauses for a minute, puts a screw in, and then begins the methodical task of charging up through the overhanging terrain. Smashing useless small icicles out of the way to reveal ice strong enough to hold body weight, he makes steady progress upward, and traverses to the right slightly. I wonder what this is going to feel like with a backpack, but at least I will be on top rope.
Above the roof is a pretty large ledge, and JJ builds a belay station there as I had anticipated. Perfect length, he was just starting to run out of rope. “On belay!” I hear him yell, and I start climbing after breaking down the anchor. The first bit is actually steeper then it had looked from the bottom and I am surprised to experience the “screaming barfies” so early on in the climb. This results from having cold hands that quickly transition to warm, with a mixture of forearm fatigue from taxing climbing. It leaves the climber feeling like he/she is either going to scream in pain, or throw up, thus the name. To me it feels like lava is shooting out of my fingertips. The good news is, once you get them, typically you don’t experience this sensation for the rest of the day, so you just have to ride the pain out for a few miserable moments. This part of the climb is dripping wet, and I’m not super stoked on getting drenched this early in the climb, but that is just sort of part of the game we play to get to the top of these incredible features.
The roof is actually more physically demanding then I thought! In this steep terrain, I can’t keep my weight directly over my feet, and the backpack feels like it is going to pull me off the climb. My Pit Viper Sunglasses are fogging up as a result of the effort I am exerting to hold on. I shake my head to remove them from my face so I can see. I can’t use my hands to take them off because the roof requires I maintain my hands on my tools at all times. This weird head shaking thing gets my sunglasses off my face, but the croakies don’t keep them around my neck like they’re supposed to. The sunglasses fall off my face, and tumble down the cliff. “Bummer, another pair of shades lost to a climb!” I think to my self. Hopefully I can find them on the way down.
I manage to pull over the roof and reach JJ’s belay. The ice isn’t amazing up here for screws, so he was forced to use a large ice/snow lump as the main strong point in the anchor, backed up with some pieces of gear in crumbly, poorly attached ice. The rope is tossed casually around the snow lump, and although I do trust it, I still don’t really enjoy the idea of putting any weight on it. We do a quick gear exchange, drink some water and have a couple bites of food and I’m ready to tackle the next pitch. We debate the best way to go up from here. I would like to just tackle the overhanging chandelier of steep ice directly above me because that is the most direct way to take the rope up, minimizing rope drag. It looks very difficult though, and JJ points out a v-thread (method of tying cord through ice that is very secure) off to our right from another party, probably for the rappel. From the V-thread, a climber could climb still steep, but potentially slightly easier ice up and then traverse back left directly above our heads. JJ thinks I should take the traverse way, stating that it would probably be easier climbing. I am torn. My internal desire to be rowdy AF makes me want to take the direct bold line and avoid the rope drag. But in the end JJ’s logical idea to take the route of least resistance, albeit in a round about way, makes more sense. I can avoid the rope drag too if I just don’t put any protection in for the first 15 or 20 meters, and, running it out like this will still give me that feeling of getting rowdy that intrigued me about the other line.
Traversing out right from the belay
I traverse out right past the V-thread, It would be nice to clip my rope to this, because it might be the best piece of protection I will get for a very long time. But I chose not to. I will appreciate this later when I am near the top and rope drag will inevitably become horrendous. The first bit of the climb turns out to probably be the most strength intensive. It is a steep hollow curtain. It has good cauliflowers for feet here and there, but I can’t swing my tools in too hard for fear of shattering the entire sheet of ice that is holding my body weight. Delicate taps are the name of the game here, and it is tiresome work to get a good stick in the ice. I can take rests on the good feet, but I want to keep moving so as not to spend hours on this pitch, which can happen quickly if you rest too often. I get past the curtain, and it feels good, as my tool swings no longer make the gut wrenching hollow drum sound when the picks meet the ice. I still can’t place a good screw though because none of the ice is thick enough. All I have are a series of fist sized ice cauliflowers to make upward progress. It isn’t incredibly difficult, but the lack of protection makes the climbing mentally strenuous. I finally reach the solid ice about 20 meters directly above where JJ is belaying me from. Here I can get my first good screw in. I breathe a sigh of relief. There is an amazing mental shift when you get a good piece in. A relaxing sensation washes over you and the climbing instantly goes from this freezing cold nightmare, to the magical icicle exploration that it should be.
The overhanging cauliflower formations up high on Virtual Reality
The rest of the route is more straightforward. There is an interesting ice chimney, that I use to stem my feet out wide, both to the left and right of me. It is awkward swinging the tools because there isn’t much room behind me to build momentum with, but it is very secure in the chimney, and it never feels like I am close to falling. After another 30 or so meters of moderate climbing, I pull over the lip of the ice flow. I let out a celebratory cry, and build our final belay station.
Retrospectively, I almost wish I had taken the direct line. A person probably shouldn’t beat themselves up too much over “woulda shoulda coulda” scenarios, but its hard not to sometimes. When we explained our route to Mikel later that night, he didn’t hesitate to ruffle our feathers by saying that we didn’t actually climb Virtual Reality, because we had chosen to do this round about and indirect path. I responded to this by saying he sounds sort of like a Boulderer, contriving the route like that. “Maybe your are right...” He trailed off. Then he went quiet for about 10 minutes. After the conversation had turned to other things, he looked me directly in the eye and said “Nobody has ever insulted me so much as to call me a boulderer.” I laugh at this, because I love bouldering and have no problem with contriving routes to make the climbing better. But I still wonder if I had actually offended him, I hope not.
I told JJ to smile when I snapped this photo. He made this face and then said “Why do Americans always tell me to smile in photographs!?” … I guess smiling for pics isn’t such a thing in Poland
When JJ joins me at the top of the climb, we exchange a quick fist bump, and begin preparations for the descent. The sun has been hidden by clouds for a long time, but I can tell it is starting to get very low. It would be nice to not need headlamps until we are hiking, so we move quickly and rappel. It feels good to touch down on the ground, as the most dangerous part of climbing is rappelling. I also managed to find my sunglasses buried in the snow at the base of the climb. Now as long as we don’t get eaten by bears on the hike out, we can call it a successful trip! I am currently typing this story with all ten fingers, so I will leave it to you to imagine if we did indeed get eaten or not.