Cold As Ice

by Rich Gottlieb

Desk size blocks of ice are piled at the bottom of a vertical 100 foot high, 3 to 6 foot wide ice climb in a shaded amphitheater nestled in the Catskills. It is the day before Valentines Day 06 and although winter started out strong in December it has fizzled ever since, leaving those fallen blocks as evidence of a lame, record warm, January. Where these monolithic blocks once stood, stuck to the side of a steep cliff, there is now a thinner more elusive combination of brownish icicles and stranger frozen globs not quite as stuck to the side of the cliff but never the less connected and spanning from bottom to top. Some climbers would stand in front of this in its present state and say that it looks wild, but that the thought of leading it (starting out at the bottom and climbing to the top) makes them more than a little uncomfortable. A couple more weeks of cold would fatten and solidify the ice and make leading it in the cards but we just spent the last 50 minutes getting here, haven’t been ice climbing in 7 or 8 weeks, and it’s going to get warm again in a day or two, so guess what? It’s just going to have to do. After all, I have done this particular climb a good 60 times over the last 20 years so you could say we’re old friends, and as often is with old friends I feel comfortable finishing the sentences and filling in the gaps in our little tete-a-tete.

So Felix and I get suited up and I tie into one end of the 70 meter rope that he has uncoiled and piled in the snow. I have put on my helmet, rack up a handful of ice screws, carabineers, and slings that I hope to place along the way to safeguard myself in case I were to fall. Falling is really not such a good idea and being as we’re old friends etc. it would be downright rude for the ice to force me to leave abruptly. We are 20 feet from the base of the climb which is good for Felix because inevitably some ice will fall down while I climb and even a smaller than baseball size piece could put the big hurt on him if he’s unlucky enough to get between it and the ground. I then walk towards the ice in order to get that intimate distance from the ice that makes the exchange real. First I negotiate the welded together blocks of ice bridging the small stream running under the base of the climb. They must have sat there for a while because the water had been much higher evidenced by the half circle cut into their underside. It looks like a perfect Flintstone’s bridge.

The least amount of ice on the climb is in the first 20 feet and with not much to work with it pays to be delicate and dance lightly. So I start delicately placing my tools and feet while at the same time maintaining a casual demeanor. Carefully but comfortably I pick my way up trending a little to the left and stop at a spot 20 feet up where I am able to balance on my feet and free up my right hand and begin to place an ice screw into a wet hummock of ice out to the right. My glove is now getting dripped on as I twist the 5 inch long hollow screw with 4 sharp teeth on one end, threads on the outside and a place to clip a carabineer onto the other end. Wet gloves become cold and heavy so I am not dawdling. I finish placing the screw to the hilt, and then clip a sling to one end and my rope to the other. Next I move up, trend a little to the right putting myself in a spot that gives me wetter softer ice to play with that’s not too drippy. I take short swings with my arms, flicking my wrists just before the tools impact, and lightly kick my boots with their attached crampons into the ice, putting little pin pricks into my friends surface. This might not sound like what friends do to each other but blood on the face is not an uncommon occurrence and it ain’t the ice face that’s bleeding. I’m not really trying to drive home a point and get tough or anything but am rather attempting to punctuate the dialogue between the ice and myself. There is no reason to get aggressive and I don’t and thus things really start to flow between us. Getting the ole cold shoulder just isn’t in the picture; still vertical is vertical and I make sure to watch my manners and not upset either the climb or myself. Pissed off could be just that if you don’t follow the simple laws of physics and mind your manners. So other than 4 strategic stops to place screws, and warm my hands and catch my breath everything goes without a hitch and I top out. We have come to terms with each other all over again and I for one am grateful for the encounter. Felix lowers me to the ground, walks around for 10 minutes warming his hands which have quietly watched me so well and sacrificed their own heat, and then does the dance upward in his own style. After finishing I lower him and he proceeds to lead a climb 20 feet to the left, I follow and rappel down, then we pack up and hike out enjoying the extraordinary silence that we sense around us and inside us.    

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