Surfing in Kansas
A beginner's look at Adirondacks ice climbing
(for Tuan's Cold Mountain Page)

On our way up, I was really hoping that I would not be in over my head. I had always felt intimidated by the small number of ice climbers in Washington and by the appearance of misery that the stories in magazines and books depicted. Furthermore, I think it is against some physical law for a Puertorican to get involved in a sport where water does not appear in liquid state. But as you are about to see, ice climbing can be a fun extension of our sport which allows for the enjoyment of those days too cold for adventuring into the rocks.

The drive to the Adirondacks is brutal by any standards: 535 miles or nine hours if you have accumulated too many tickets on past road trips. Like Gregg says, "being an ice climber in Washington is like being a surfer in Kansas!". But wanting it bad enough to endure Gregg's Neil Young CD collection, we were at the outskirts of the Adirondacks State Park by days end.

On the first night, we stayed in a motel some 70 miles south of Keene Valley along Interstate 87. The plan was to recuperate from the long drive, wake up early, and hit the beginners' climbs in the Chapel Pond area before anybody else got there (Gregg is very conscious of spectators while he is leading ice). At dawn, we cleaned the room, geared up in proper attire, and embarked on a search for ice while listening to Green Day.

The first project of the day was the Dix Pond Trail Head (WI 2 - 2+). The small waterfall is visible on the east side of Route 73 with convenient roadside parking available a few meters ahead. We cramponed on the side of the road and bush-whacked about 30 meters to the ice. The main waterfall rises about 6 meters and is followed by some 40 meters of low angle ice. Gregg placed a couple of screws and took a fall when one of his crampons came off his boot. I held him in place, and he managed to put it back on and finish the climb. He set a top rope anchor, and it was time for me to finally test all my book-acquired knowledge and my brand new ice tools.

It had snowed during the week preceding our visit, so the ice was a bit rotten. I was surprised to see that things were working like the books had said they would. I was making good tool placements (even though big chunks of rotten ice were coming off all over the place), and I was keeping my weight over my feet. I had not banged my knuckles yet, and although the temperature was about 5°F, the combination of underwear, fleece, and shell felt toasty warm. Upon my descent, Gregg jumped back on, climbed back to the anchor, and finished the pitch over some slabby ice (WI 1). Following him gave me an opportunity to practice my French technique, and after rappelling the pitch, we decided to move along.

After having some beef jerky (which helps explain why my stomach is ruined), the afternoon took us to the Practice Wall (WI 3). This is a collection of climbs (50 meters wide) located about half a kilometer north of Dix Pond Trail Head on the east side of Route 73. In this area there is no parking, but the shoulder is wide enough to accommodate cars safely. Gregg led a couple of the routes and placed top ropes for me to practice on. The ice formations in this wall were among the most spectacular that we saw. Bulges protruded from bulges looking like a complex and grotesque giant mushroom field. After doing seven pitches each, we called it a day and headed north towards Keene.

Along the way, we stopped at The Mountaineer to browse and talk some climbing. The store, which is a good place to obtain route finding information and to rent gear, holds an impressive inventory of equipment. The staff was knowledgeable and friendly.

In apparent violation of the laws of thermodynamics, clothing and gear becomes soaking wet while climbing ice. This makes the desire for civilized shelter strong and forced us to drive to the Cascade Lake area where we arranged for lodging in a roadside motel named Fairview. The owner, a German lady, was most helpful, and her influence gave the place the appearance of a typical pension in the Alps. I spread the ice-stiffed ropes along the floor and hung the crampons and the ice rack in the shower. Meanwhile, Gregg hung his down jacket and other items which had frozen solid after a bottle of Gatorade spilled inside his pack. Plagued by hunger, we drove to Lake Placid were we had some dinner, called the wives, and purchased some beer before returning to the motel. Back in the motel, Gregg worked on adjusting his crampons, and I patched the numerous crampon-rips in my pants using duct tape.

The next day, we headed to the Cascade Lake area (between Keene and Lake Placid on Route 73). At 8:15 am, we were the second party to arrive at Pitch Off Right (WI 2 - 4+). This wall of ice, which is across the lake from Green Gully, contains numerous routes which can satisfy climbers at just about any level. The routes, which can be led or top roped, are up to 25 meters in length, and the ice formations contain bulges, corners, pinnacles, and even caves. The arrangement of the routes is very similar to that in the main climbing area at the Gunks, NY, with the routes decked by an iced walkway that leads to a steep approach and the road bellow. Due to this terrain, it is good practice to be tied in at all times. During the four hours that we spent there, I saw my pack and two helmets roll down the hill all the way to the road, and two people wiped out which almost ruined my day.

While we took turns on the top rope in a collection of WI 3 and 3+s, a couple of Canadian parties instructed some of their members. Meanwhile Greg Byam from Chatham, NJ, led a couple of WI 4 and 4+ routes while trying to teach his partner to belay. With ten pitches (each) under our belts, and just having listened to Byam's belayer respond "On rappel!" to Byam's question "Belay on?", we decided it was time for us to leave before we saw blood stain the ice.

We got back in the truck and drove to the parking spot at the end of the lake. There, we walked across the lake and started up one of the unlisted gullies at the base of the ridge on the shore of the lake. This gully, named Pedro's Gully (WI 1 - 2+) by Gregg, is not in every year according to some locals. The climb alternates between 4 meter waterfalls and flat stretches of ice. The forest surrounding the gully gives it a sense of wilderness not found in the other climbing areas while providing great protection. A bit of bush-whacking was involved, but after four pitches we found ourselves almost at the top of the ridge with a spectacular view of the lake area.

Upon rappelling down the gully, we went in search of other unlisted climbs in the west side of the Cascade Lake area. We found two additional gullies, one of which looked to be about WI 3 for about 150 meters of majestic deep blue ice. We agreed to give it a try first thing in the morning and headed towards the truck across the frozen swamp at the north end of the lake. There we both learned an invaluable lesson: swamps take much colder temperatures to freeze than lakes. Halfway to the truck, the ice started creeping under my feet and next thing I knew, I was up to my calves in a brown, smelly, slimy substance. Gregg fell through too, and as I tried to get out, the top ice kept on breaking. Stinking, exhausted, and hungry, we walked back to Pedro's Gully and crossed the lake where we had come in four hours earlier.

We decided to have dinner at a small restaurant in the town of Keene. On the way back to the motel, we picked up the mandatory beer, reported to the War Department (i.e., the wives), and I bought yet more beef jerky (I guess to annoy Gregg more than to feed myself). In the motel, the enduring and tedious task of gear drying and pants patching drained the last bit of our energy.

The next day, sore, with swelling knuckles and in the middle of a partial white-out, we decided it was best to head south and avoid the end-of-weekend skiing crowds. The weekend had been worth every penny I spent, and while I had a blast, I learned that dry ropes don't stay dry, that crampons shred pants, and that even a pair of Kansan surfers can have fun on the Adirondacks ice.

Pedro I. Espina,^© March 28, 1996