The Incredible Hulk – Solar Flare from Jeffery Morse on Vimeo.
Shot by Jim Surrette.

Jason Nelson leads stunning cracks on the southeast ridge of Mendenhall Tower, one of the area's most "popular" routes. Photo by Blake Herrington.

Blake Herrington leading low on The Iron Curtain, the first ascent of a big rock wall between the main Mendenhall Tower and Tower 4. Photo by Jason Nelson.

Mountain Fellowship winner Blake Herrington reports on his recent run of big new rock climbs in Alaska.

On July 9, Jason Nelson and I caught a helicopter from Juneau to the Mendenhall Glacier’s upper reaches, intending to climb new routes among the Taku or Mendenhall towers. Jason is from Ouray, Colorado, and knows how to climb rock and Ice. I am from Bellingham, Washington, and know how to schwack through brush, cook one-stove meals during a storm, and flounder in soft snow. We seemed to have all the bases covered.

The weather was sunny, the daylight lasted 20 hours, and we couldn’t believe our luck to be there during a heat wave. First we climbed the mega-classic southeast ridge of the Main Tower (IV 5.10+); as the area’s “trade route” this climb may have seen as many as a half-dozen ascents. In subsequent days we climbed three new routes, all in the grade IV or IV+ range. These routes featured minor glacial travel, but were predominately rock climbs on splitter cracks and the knobs that covered the walls of the towers.

The Iron Curtain led up the Main Tower, with 5.10 and 5.11 pitches, capped by a 5.12a thin-hands roof. We dubbed our second new climb Resisting a Rest. This climb tackled a long corner system up the steepest part of the Curtain, a wall between the Main Tower and Tower 4. After dealing with a 100-foot-deep, 30-foot-wide chasm high on the route, we proceeded to the summit of Tower 4. Finally, we made a direct ascent up the South Arete of Tower 4, following a long line of cracks and roofs in a stunning location. The final pitch had us stemming higher and higher between a thin flake of granite and the main wall, before rocking over and commiting to a long section of protectionless face-climbing up the arete to the summit. Jason and I had arrived in Juneau just days after the governor’s suprise exit from politics, and our stash of local newspapers was full of articles and editorials regarding her sudden departure. In honor of the event, we named this final new climb The Resignation Arete.

This route also marked our resignation from the area, as storms, fog, and the typical Alaskan weather soon returned. We spent two days skiing, hiking, rappeling, schwacking, and hitch-hiking back into Juneau via the Mendenhall Glacier and West Glacier Trail.

I am eternally grateful to the AAC for the Mountain Fellowship funding, which paid for a significant part of the transportation on this trip.

To read more about this trips and see loads more photos, visit Blake’s blog: Blakeclimbs.blogspot.com.

Brandon Latham (left) and PhuNuru Sherpa. NPS Photo.

Denali National Park mountaineering ranger Brandon Latham describes his experience working with PhuNuru Sherpa on Denali’s high-mountain climbing patrol during the month of June—a climbing exchange sponsored by the Alex Lowe Charitable Foundation.

The South District of Denali National Park is the starting point for most expeditions heading for Mt. McKinley. This is also where the mountaineering ranger staff is stationed for the climbing season. On Mt. McKinley, each ranger has a group of 3 to 5 volunteers that make up a climbing patrol, referred to as a “14K Patrol.” The volunteers are people that have climbing, medical, and rescue experience on big mountains, creating a solid team that can handle most needs of climbers who find themselves in trouble on the mountain. This year I enjoyed the unusual experience of working closely on the volunteer patrol with a Sherpa climber.

Outside of my season here on Mt. McKinley, I work for a couple of other organizations, one being the Khumbu Climbing School, with which I volunteered during the 2008 and 2009 seasons in Phortse, Nepal. After my first year with the school, I felt it would be a good fit to try and have a Nepali instructor come over for a volunteer patrol on Mt. McKinley. I ran the idea by John Leonard, the lead mountaineering ranger at the South District Office, and Conrad Anker and Jenni Lowe-Anker, founders of the Khumbu Climbing School, and they all were enthusiastic about the prospect.

With the financial help of the Khumbu Climbing School (backed by the Alex Lowe Charitable Foundation), PhuNuru Sherpa from Phortse joined our patrol in June, along with Jon Gleason from Yosemite Search and Rescue (YOSAR), Scott Ring from YOSAR, and Dave Weber, a climbing ranger on Mt. Rainier.

A guide on Everest and Cho Oyu with International Mountain Guides, PhuNuru Sherpa was right at home on the mountain; although it was a different climbing style than he was used to, it was no problem for him to adapt. One goal was to have him learn something new each day that was different from what he was used to in the Khumbu, and some of these things included traveling on the glacier with skis, dragging a sled with expedition supplies, and snow camping every day for 28 days. He was amazed at how clean the mountain was, from both trash and human-waste standpoints. Our crew conducted five rescues involving 400- to 600-meter lowers above the 14,200-foot camp, and PhuNuru was one of the primary responders for each one.

PhuNuru felt this was a huge learning experience in many ways, and he has expressed interest in returning for another season to continue learning about how the mountain is managed and how rescues are carried out safely and efficiently, and, most importantly, to spend more time in the Alaska Range. At the beginning of July, he headed down to Mt. Rainier for two weeks on the mountain with Dave Weber. Myself and everyone here at the Talkeetna Ranger Station thank PhuNuru for all his help, and thank the Alex Lowe Charitable Foundation for helping to bring PhuNuru over.

—Brandon Latham

Althea Rogers admires the view near Tikchik Lake, Alaska. Photo by Emily Stifler.

Althea Rogers finishing off the new route Stick a Feather in It by an unprotected 5.8 squeeze chimney. Photo by Emily Stifler.

Last summer Althea Rogers, Kate Rutherford, Madaleine Sorkin, and I spent three weeks in southwest Alaska, near the headwaters of Bristol Bay. Supported by Mountain Fellowship and McNeill-Nott grants from the AAC, we established new routes on 400- to 900-foot granite domes south of Tikchik Lake. I wrote a feature article for Climbing magazine that has just been published in the July 2009 issue. Here’s another moment from the trip.

Propped up against a tundra tussock, I dug my bare feet into tiny, smooth, black beach gravel. Wind and water lapped the beach, chasing mosquitoes away. A loon call resonated across the lake, hauntingly beautiful and bizarre. The rest of the crew was still asleep, and I was up early, drinking coffee and reading Steinbeck’s first novel, Cup of Gold, about pirates. In the tattered margin, someone had scribbled the definition to my new totem: Morass, a bog, marsh, entanglement, something which confuses or impedes, a quagmire.

Our adventure here in Tikchik was many-themed: Bushwhacking, battling mosquitoes, swamp tromping, vertical gardening, and messing around in the lake were a few of our favorite activities. The morass here was scattered with tiny tundra flowers; gentle, blue-hued granite domes; cold, clear lakes, and distant, glacier-covered peaks.

The previous night, after Althea and I’d managed our second rambling, crumbling, vegetation-encrusted route here in Tikchik, we’d run off the top of the 500-foot-tall dome with lightning encroaching. We hopped between alpine grasses, laughing and enjoying the bug-free moments. When we entered the thick underbrush, it started pouring. Following a trail of fresh moose scat between a bog and the water’s edge, we sunk knee-deep in black mud. “Hey MOOSE!” we yelled, unsure if this tactic scared ungulates away the same way it did bears.

The lightning faded, and we launched our blow-up kayak, paddling ten minutes across the lake in a downpour. It was midnight when we beached the boat, and our group tent glowed in the dusky summer night. The rain had calmed to a gentle patter, and we could smell something delicious. I unzipped the screen and saw white fish meat cooking, lit by Kate’s headlamp and specked with curry, simmering in a fry pan. Another mystery pot steamed in front of Madaleine. We stormed in, peeled wet clothes off, and they handed us bowls of soup.

—Emily Stifler

Thanks to all the AAC members who were able to make it out to the annual New England summer climber’s barbecue on Saturday, July 11. It was a great party, in true New England fashion.

Titoune Meunier generously hosted the event at her home in North Conway, New Hampshire, with her deck overlooking the Saco River valley: Cathedral and Whitehorse Ledges to the north, and beyond, Mount Washington’s base looming beneath cloud cover. I counted at least 50 people at the height of the party: climbers from age 8 to 80, from all parts of New England. Teresa Richey held court in the middle of the deck, DJ-ing salsa music on a small boom box and corralling anyone and everyone to dance. I think I saw George Hurly twirling around a few young ladies, in fact.

AACers dancing in the rain on the deck, led by Teresa Richey.

At about 9 o’clock, the music stopped and champagne flutes were passed around. Henry Barber stood on top of a chair and made a heartfelt toast about the strength and vibrancy of our community, and congratulated Mark and Teresa Richey on 25 years of marriage. Not a minute after the toast, the rain that had been threatening the skies all evening finally arrived and there was a scurry of activity to bring the food and furniture inside. Some folks huddled under umbrellas, some folks made themselves at home in Titoune’s kitchen. Eventually the music came back on and the dancing resumed on the deck, even as the rain continued. It must have been around midnight when Titoune finally closed her doors, and us stragglers found our ways home.

Thanks to New England chair Nancy Savickas and super-volunteer Titoune Meunier for hosting such a fun party.

- Sarah Garlick

• AAC Ambassador Rob Pizem free climbs 1,000ft new route (5.11)in Norway http://tinyurl.com/mbvszr #
• Jeff Lowe was recently awarded an Honorary Membership to the AAC, the highest honor. Read it here: http://tinyurl.com/nluhfv #
• Front Range climbers: preview Steve Levin's new Eldo Canyon guidebook: http://tinyurl.com/lzals7 #
• Supertopo highlight on the AAC Library's new Armando Menocal Collection http://tinyurl.com/ktmczc #

Honorary Membership in the AAC is not merely about climbing achievement. Jeff Lowe has already received the AAC’s Underhill Award which celebrates lifetime climbing achievement. It is fair to say that his climbing resume is probably unparalleled in American climbing history. Most informed people are aware of Latok I, Shipton Spire and his hundreds of superb rock routes. No need to dwell on that record here.

Honorary Membership in the AAC is also about vision and service to the climbing community. After the Chouinard revolution in ice climbing, Jeff’s vision brought it to another level. He is one of the fathers of modern mixed climbing. Innovative techniques, tools and clothing were brought to the worldwide community through books and videos.

This Sunday in Ogden, Utah the AAC will celebrate Jeff Lowe’s achievements, vision and service to the worldwide community with Honorary Membership.

Jim McCarthy

Notes from AAC staff:

1) Rock & Ice has a great write up on Jeff’s accomplishments.

2) The list of AAC honorary members can be found here.

3) The AAC library has tons of stuff on Jeff, itemized here.

4) If you are interested in attending this Sunday, email <devakiananda at mac dot com>.

Siberia: a cruel place of exile, unimaginable cold, gulags, emptiness.

In 1982 Russian geologists exploring a remote region of Siberia discovered a family of raskolniki (Russian Orthodox Old Believers) who had been living in hiding since the early 1900s. They weren’t aware of the fall of the tsar (at the end of WWI), nor the rise of Soviet rule. Such is the vastness of the great Siberian plain. If you dug a hole straight into the ground in front of Boulder’s Trident Cafe, and popped out on the other side of the earth, you might just end up near my tent here in Ergaki National Park. The name Siberia comes from the Mongolian sibi, which means “sleeping land,” and I traveled 77 hours from Boulder to arrive in this world away: 19 on a plane, 16 in a car or bus, and the rest just waiting… in airports, a hotel, and on the side of the road. On the final leg of the journey to this remote camp I jostled in the back of a high-clearance Russian military jeep for two hours on an abandoned road, through two swift rivers and a dozen pitfalls that civilian vehicles (including the SUVs parked at Vic’s) couldn’t manage.

Here, in the middle of Siberia’s wilderness, vibrant orange, yellow, and purple wildflowers thrive among the rich greens of the marshy taiga. Mosquitoes swarm so thick that when the air is still, it’s hard to focus on anything but moving and swatting. This is also where the 3rd annual Ergaki International Mountaineering Festival is taking place, and it’s the first time that foreign climbers were invited. My friend Alex Honnold and I are the token Americans among a mixed bag of representative countries including Sweden, Hungary, Serbia, and Israel. Read the rest of this entry »

David Gottlieb during the first ascent of Jobo Rinjang. Photo by Joe Puryear.

Two trip reports from successful expeditions by AAC grant recipients have been posted at www.AmericanAlpineClub.org.

Joe Puryear, winner of a 2009 Lyman Spitzer Cutting-Edge Award, has posted a profusely illustrated account of his first ascent of 6,778-meter Jobo Rinjang in Nepal with David Gottlieb in April. And Mountain Fellowship winner Sevve Stember has reported on his super-successful trip to Chile, during which he and his young American teammates opened the first routes on the granite domes of Valle de Paloma.

Check ’em out. Get inspired.

Dave Turner's base camp site, with the north face of Broad Peak in the distance. Photo by Dave Turner.

Icy Dave. Photo by Dave Turner.

Turner below the crux headwall during his single-push new route on Broad Peak. Photo by Dave Turner.

A severely foreshortened view of the 1,450-meter new route on the north face of Broad Peak (ca 1,800m). Photo by Dave Turner.

Dave Turner, winner of a 2009 Lyman Spitzer Cutting-Edge Award from the AAC, soloed a major new route in Baffin Island during a 65-day expedition this spring. Turner climbed the 1,400-meter north arête and face of Broad Peak (ca 1,800m) in a remarkable lightweight, single-push effort.

Turner traveled with Inuit guides by snowmobile to Sam Ford Fjord and then set up base camp below Polar Sun Spire. His plan was to ski and explore during April, and then attempt one or more new routes once the weather warmed in May. For much of this time he was alone, although hunters, BASE jumpers, and kite skiers occasionally visited, and he enjoyed a pleasant diversion climbing Broad Peak by its moderate south side with four female Scandinavian skiers (www.baffinbabes.com). However, Turner suffered frostbite on his toes during that climb and ski descent—an incident that would affect his ambitious climbing plans.

In early May, Turner attempted the unclimbed north face of Beluga Spire, a circa-1,300-meter face rising directly from the sea ice. Turner started up an obvious line of stacked pillars with a haul bag and two lead ropes, but no bolts, portaledge, or static rope. After three days, he had climbed 650 meters of the route, mostly along mixed snow, ice, and rock in a steep crack system. However, when he tried to switch to rock shoes to begin pure rock climbing, he found his frostbitten toes quickly went numb. After a bruising fall, he retreated. A week later he tried the route again, climbing 500 meters in two days with even less equipment, but his damaged toes still hindered his free climbing, making an alpine-style ascent impossible.

After returning to base camp, Turner spent two weeks skiing and exploring while his injured toes recovered. With one week left in the expedition and his toes feeling better in rock-climbing shoes, he chose to attempt the unclimbed north face of Broad Peak by a 1,450-meter line consisting of an elegant curving arête, a steep snowfield, and a rock headwall.

New snow and warm temperatures created dangerous avalanche conditions that stymied Turner’s first attempt. Two days later he returned and started up the route at 8 p.m., making the most of the nearly endless daylight above the Arctic Circle. A few mixed pitches gained the sharp rock arête, which he climbed for hundreds of meters to the broad, easy snow slope; the climbing to this point was about 5.8 M5 60°. On the headwall, he found seven pitches of aid up to A3, with a final mandatory free-climbing slab move and mantel (roughly 5.10+) to reach a moderate ice arête leading to the summit.

Turner descended the gully and ridge he had climbed previously on the south face to reach his skis. He regained base camp after a 39-hour nonstop push. He used no bolts and left only two equalized beaks for a tension traverse—“no other gear or garbage was left on the peak,” Turner said. His unnamed new route, only the second known line on the formation, went at VI 5.10 A3 60°.

Turner, who received the 2009 Robert Hicks Bates Award for young climbers from the AAC, has posted a wonderful first-person account of his expedition, complete with many photos of climbing, kite skiing, and exploration, at the Supertopo website.