Phil Druker/ Department of English/ UI  English317

 

MIGHTY HIGH FOR A SELF-DESCRIB ... 09/20/2001
Lewiston Tribune
Section: Outdoors
Date: 09/20/2001
Page: 1C
Keywords: Climbing
Caption: Phil Druker photos
Thane Berg, Phil Druker's climbing partner, sits on the top of the Middle Teton with another climber looking over the precipice in the background. On the way down, Berg contemplates the route.
 
Mighty high for a self-described 'chicken'; Middle Teton climb goes up and up and up
Byline: Phil Druker
     Basically, I am a chicken.  I'm afraid of snakes.  I can't stand scary movies, and heights make me dizzy.
  But despite my fear, I had to say yes when a friend who lives near Grand Teton National Park invited me to do some climbing.
  The Tetons provide some popular climbs for a number of reasons. First, the peaks are readily accessible. The most popular big climbs are within a day or two of the trailhead.
  Second, the granite of the range's main peaks is fairly solid and climbable. Third, those peaks are impressive -- spectacular spires that offer routes of varying degrees of difficulty.
  After some discussion, we settled on climbing the Middle Teton, which reaches 12,804 feet.  There are lots of routes up the peak, but Thane Berg, my climbing buddy, had already been up the Middle a couple of times on the easiest route, which takes climbers up the mountain's southwest ridge.
  It's a Class 3 climb out of a  classification that has five levels.
  A Class 1 climb basically is a hike. A Class 2 climb involves a little scrambling.   A Class 3 climb involves a scramble -- climbing using your hands and basic climbing techniques -- but the exposure to dangerous falls is not so great that most people feel the need to rope up or use protection.
  Class 4 climbs expose climbers to bad falls, so roping up often becomes necessary. But it's still not technical climbing.
  Class 5 involves technical climbing. Climbers  use ropes to belay their partners -- which means they anchor themselves to the rock and hold the rope tight so if the partner falls, it won't be too far. Also, as they climb they place anchors into the rock, and to these anchors they attach ropes to prevent long falls.
  The basic climbs on the Grand Teton are Class 5.4 or 5.5, on a scale that runs to 5.14. I guess to do a 5.14 climb, a person would need to be some kind of human spider.
  We had hoped to be able to camp in Garnet Canyon, a beautiful (but overused) valley  at the base of the Middle and Grand Tetons. But the National Park Service had issued all the permits for the area.
  That meant if we wanted to climb the Middle Teton, we would have to summit and descend in one day -- that's seven miles and 6,000 feet up and then seven miles and 6,000 feet back down. 
  So we started at 6 a.m.
  As we hiked through the cool August morning, we passed some mule deer and a group of elk just as the sun was rising.  Then we herded a family of spruce grouse up the trail until they finally got tired of us and let us pass.
  We did the three miles and 3,000 feet to Garnet Canyon in a couple of hours. We left the maintained trail as we hiked by the campsites in the canyon.
  Next we followed some faint climbers' trails that headed toward the Middle Teton.  Generally the route was pretty easy, with some minor scrambling up big faces of granite.
  By noon, we had climbed to the saddle, 1,500 feet below the summit.  Our route rose above us -- a couloir (gully) that creased the peak right to the summit.
  Here we ate lunch.  The 11,000-foot elevation was making me a little sick, and altitude sickness isn't much fun. It's like having a hangover, but without the pleasure of getting drunk. Your head and stomach ache and you generally feel woozy.
  After a short nap, which made me feel much better, we started the serious part of the climb.
  We scrambled up a steep rock face and headed up the couloir. Here the rock often was loose, so we couldn't count on it for good footing or hand holds. That meant we couldn't just climb with our feet and hands, we had to climb with our eyes.
  The route was steep, 50 or 60 degrees in places, and a couple of big steps made me wonder how I was going to get down.  In other places, the route ascended gravel that was like walking on marbles.
  It took a while to get up, but we finally made it.  I joked with Thane that he should have covered my eyes with blinders and used a rope with a bunch of pulleys to haul me up. 
  At the top, we found a flat spot to enjoy the view. The peak of the Grand Teton rose 1,000 feet above us just a half mile to the northeast.
  Everything else except the sky was below us: the other peaks of the Teton range, the peaks of mountain ranges all around, the lakes, the glaciers, the Jackson Hole valley and the flat plain of potato fields in southeastern Idaho.
  On an exposed summit, the wind usually blows hard. But on that August day, the air was perfectly still. So we sat and enjoyed the view for more than an hour.
  One climber scaled a difficult 5.5 route on the south face. A few other people followed our easy route.
  I felt about as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs whenever I looked over the precipice that fell more than 3,000 feet to Garnet Canyon below. Others seemed nonchalant.
  We retraced our route down the mountain. A few places seemed a little sketchy, but I made it down with just a few scrapes and bumps.  One steep step was particularly difficult for me, but I found a way down with Thane's help.
  Once I got down, I couldn't figure out why I had found it so difficult.
  When we entered Garnet Canyon, we watched a National Park Service helicopter circle near one of the canyon's spires, Disappointment Peak. It left and then returned, hauling a rescue line.
  We later learned a man had fallen about 15 feet when he pulled a loose rock down on himself. He was the 24th climber who required a major rescue in the park this summer.
  As we headed down, I remembered what the director of the University of Idaho's Outdoor Program, Mike Beiser, likes to say: There are old climbers and there are bold climbers, but there aren't many old, bold climbers.
  I'm glad I'm an old climber, and climbing the Middle Teton left me itching to gain the skills to climb some more.