Map courtesy of MapQuest

It was close to midnight by the time we arrived in North Conway. We drove straight to the Cranmore Mt. Lodge, where Garrett and Natalie had bunk beds waiting for us. Already asleep in the bunkhouse was Jim Long, who agreed to climb with me the next morning. After setting the gear in the basement we hit the sack.

Up by 5:00, on the road by 6:00, breakfast -- a Cliff Bar. We where the first at the Frankenstein Cliff parking lot. The morning was very cold (-23 °C) and the air froze our nostrils as we hiked north along the abandoned railroad tracks. I had never climbed in Frankenstein before but I was feeling particularly bold that morning. For his part, Jim walked quietly carrying a belly full of beginner's butterflies.

I started by confusing Mean Miss Theater (I, NEI 4) with Standard Route (II, NEI 3+), and given that Standard is such a classic, I decided to make it the first climb of the day -- oh what a mistake! Typically, Mean Miss Theater has a very thin start, and on that day it had little more than verglass on its first 9 meters. I saw a possibility on the left side of it, where a small rock outcrop showed some promise for protection.

Round One: Tap, tap... scratch, scratch... desperate piton, clipped it, out it came. Down, down, down...
Round Two: --Give me a bigger piton! --You are going up again? --Piece of cake... Tap, tap... scratch, scratch... hammered piton, rock crumbled. Down, down, down...
Round Three: --No way this climb is spiting me out. --Whatever... Gloves off, tools off, rock climbing, rock crumbled like cheap cardboard. Down, down, down...

With Jim's trust a bit shaken, I decided to allow the beauty of the line make the decision for me. The right most section of A Walk in the Forest (I, NEI 4) looked short, steep, had a delicate detached curtain at the bottom, and  it just looked to good to pass on. As I started, the curtain sounded hollow but its closeness to the ground reassured me. Small ice axe taps did the trick, and very soon I was at the first ice shelf placing an ice screw. From there on, the climb relaxed, and I was at the rappel tree in no time. Jim found the curtain strenuous and intimidating but my encouraging words helped him get through it, and soon enough he was at the tree with me consumed by the rush. We rappelled down, and chatted with the members of a climbing clinic who were practicing on the left side of the Forest. The instructor restored my ego when he explained that Standard was just around the corner, and that Mean Miss Theater was "very thin this year."

With the new beta it was time to do the infamous Standard Route. The line is absolutely unmistakable -- you could drive an eighteen wheeler up it. As with any classic, there is typically a waiting line at the base of it, so getting there early is a good idea. Jim and I decided to go on the left most side of the route and use the left cave as our second belay (this is not to be confused with Standard Left (I, NEI 3) which is a separate and distinct route). This left cave approach has a number of problems: 1. the first pitch places the belayer on a shooting gallery where he/she is exposed to falling ice, 2. the left cave is uncomfortable and belaying from it requires rock gear (bring your pitons along), and 3. the second pitch requires a traverse to the right cave at the end of the first pitch of the normal route. I didn't know these things, so I anchored Jim in the middle of the target range, and climbed with a handful of ice screws and no rock gear. At the belay I was forced to be very creative when rigging one of the most pathetic belays that I have ever used. With the belay ready, I yelled -- "Jim you are on belay... Don't fall..." Jim looked dazed and bewildered, but in the end, he rose to the occasion.

While Jim carefully inched his way up to me, I shared some quasi intimate moments with a beautiful and funny lady that was belaying her husband from the comfort of the right cave. I explained my need for some rock gear at the belay, and she explained her need to pee. When Jim joined me, I could tell that he was not having fun anymore and that was the queue to end the day. We carefully swapped places at the belay, and I started the traverse to the right cave placing as many screws as I had to make life easy for Jim. At the right cave I met two Earth Treks regulars who had registered for guided lesson and were waiting for their guide to finish the second pitch. As soon as Jim joined me we started our decent, but no before some jerk insinuated that we had stolen one of his ice screws after his partner had dropped it on his way up the climb. Good thing they decided to leave before we got down (it is not wise to anger a tired fellow who is wearing over a dozen of sharp points in his extremities). On our hike back over the old railroad bridge, I could tell that Jim was thankful that the day was over.

Back at the Cranmore Mt. Lodge, we met with the rest of the party while eating on of Garrett's infamous pasta dinners. Scott explained how the Alex Lowe clinic -- Mixed Climbing -- had been a fiasco. Apparently, Mr. Lowe has become such a yuppie celebrity that mid aged people, who have never climbed ice before, are willing to pay the price of the course just to hang out with him. No leading, little climbing, lots of posing... for his part, Gary Dunn had gone climbing with Nicholas Walker and both had had a good time. They had made a Valentine weekend of the festival, and were staying at a local motel where Nick's wife could have some comfort, and Gary could get his nuquies taken care of. For their part, the USNA squids (Frank, Jimmy Burruss, and Ned Mason) had enjoyed their first day on ice and were ready for more of the same the next day on their second clinic.

Still wearing full Gore-Tex regalia, we drove to a local school where John Bouchard was hosting one of his Mission Impossible climbing slide shows (actually it was sort of a retrospective of his climbing life and a justification for his obsession with manufacturing hyper-light climbing gear). Mr. Lowe was present as was his ante rage of mid-life-crisised, TNF clothing dressed fans. After the show, we returned the the Lodge where Garrett had been kind enough to set the jacuzzi for us. In no time, we were al half naked in temperatures that challenged the -18 °C mark. After some cognac, laughs, and a cell call to Monika, I called it a night, but not before deciding to climb Dracula the next morning.
 
Up by 5:00, on the road by 6:00; breakfast, once again, a Cliff Bar. Jim and I meet with Nick and Gary at their motel. A short visit to McDonald's and a few minutes later we were back at the parking lot of Frankenstein Cliff. While the others moved slowly, I hiked with a purpose -- I wanted to be first up Dracula that day.

Dracula (II, NEI4+) is a climb that rarely sees the light of day, and on that day, the morning was very cold (-23 °C), so I knew that the ice would be very hard and brittle. With the silence that comes before the anticipation of fear, I racked up and set a bomber belay. Jim uncoiled the ropes, Gary took custody of my camera, and Nick just babbled. I walked to the deck, took a long hard look, and planed my rest breaks. "You can do this," I said to myself as I planted my first ice axe into the steel hard ice. I have never encountered this hard ice before; the tools bounced seven or eight times before a good placement was achieved. It was nerve wrecking and exhausting work. "Ah, the first ice shelf -- I am safe..." I clipped the rope to a questionable fix anchor plus 22 cm ice screw and up I went. The next vertical section was yet harder. The ice was still hard and the route was all chopped up from previous ascents. "Uhm, uhm, uhm... My kingdom for a solid placement..." By now, I was at the top of the second vertical section, but my arms were blown, my fingers were smashed, and I had not had a solid axe placement in over 5 meters. "Boys... I don't know about this...," I yelled to my friends bellow. Nick encouraged me to continue, Gary was silent, and Jim, sensing the severity of my position yelled, "No shame in backing off, Pedro". "He is right..., this is not a test", I though. "Boys, watch me, I am down climbing."  In retrospective, I should have ended the climb. Down climbing 2/3 of the climb was more extraneous than finishing the route. However, something inside of me sensed danger.

It was Gary's turn at the sharp end. We decided to do Standard via the conventional route. While I belayed for Gary, another party next to me prepared to climb the line on the right of Standard. With the smoothness of an old-timer, the yellow dressed oriental climber, scaled thin verglass while fighting his often overdriven Grivel The Machine ice axe. As Gary finished the pitch, I overhead the neighbor belayer call her partner "Yuki". Wondering if this was the Yuki who I had met in the net, I climbed fast trying to catch up with the other party at the second belay. Sure enough, the lady informed me that her partner was "Yuki from the net". I asked her to say hi to him from "Pedro from rec.climbing", and we continued towards the end of our respective climbs. Soon enough, Gary and Nick jointed me at the to and we called it a day.

On the way back to town, we stopped at IME to talk climbing and checkout the latest in gear. Coincidence of coincidences, Yuki was there and we got to chat a bit about our climbing experiences in Europe. At the Cranmore Mt. Lodge, Garret had prepared an amazing beef stew for dinner. Scott and I had purchased red wine, and as we all sat for dinner, I felt the joy that comes from knowing that climbing had ended for the weekend. Garret was kind enough to provide seconds for the hungry crowd, and after dinner, most everybody went back to town to view Alex Lowe's slide show. Jim and I had seen the show in the Dacks, so we stayed behind. Down at the basement of the Lodge, Garret jointed us for some relaxing time in front of the fire, while Jim watched Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery for the n^th time.

The next day, we had the luxury of waking up at a reasonable time (7:00), and with time in our hands, we decided to enjoy the complementary breakfast at the Lodge. After breakfast, we sorted gear, said our good byes with our hosts, and at about 9:00, we hit the road.

On the way out, we decided to stop at Wild Things to check their products. The store clerk was exceedingly helpful and in no time we had spent money we did not have. A few minutes after our arrival, Titoune Bouchard came into the store. Seeing our interest in their business, she took a pause from her busy schedule to give us a tour of the shop. Fantastic operation. We saw the manufacturing of harnesses, backpacks, and custom suits for the USN Seals. I was interested in a Colorado Suit, so she pulled out the computer generated patterns that are used as guides for the laser cutting of the Vapex fabric used in the Colorado suit. Soon we all realized why outdoor gear cost so much. For example, the Colorado suit comes is five sizes, and each suit is assembled from in excess of 100 pieces of fabric -- definitely more complex than what meets the eye. Not wanting to abuse of the generosity of Mrs. Bouchard, we hit the road before I brought home a $400 suit without consulting my wife.

The return trip always seems longer than the original way there. Being President's Day, traffic in the I-95 corridor was murder. Frank spiced the trip by relating the story of his visit to a an X-rated hypnosis show during one of midshipmen assignments. His story was hilarious, and next thing I know, we are downtown Boston with a nearly empty tank of gas. After giving me hell, Scott managed to get us back on I95 south. A couple of hours latter, we picked up my car at Chris Ferro's apartment in Baltimore.

In summary, North Conway has some big ice, and is populated by very nice people. The Mt. Washington Ice Festival is too big to have the intimate atmosphere of the Adirondacks Mountain festival, however, the town is big enough to not be overrun by the festival. After this experience, I would not miss next year festival for the World.
 

Pedro I. Espina,© 1998