Build My Own FeedBD athletes Kate Rutherford and Jasmin Caton report on their Greenland expedition
Black Diamond athletes Jasmin Caton and Kate Rutherford traveled to southern Greenland last month on a climbing expedition to the famed Tasermiut Fjord, home to a host of stunning 1,500-2,000-foot granite big walls. Rutherford and Caton both wrote up great reports from their three-week trip, and we decide to post them both along with photos.
The Greatest of Greenland!
By Kate Rutherford
As I groveled my way up the only 5.9 on Ulamatorsuaq’s 31-pitch 5.12+ War and Poetry Jasmin Caton called up: “Now I know why they named it WAR and poetry!” The second she said that I felt, deep in my core, exactly what she meant. Dark clouds had appeared out over the Arctic Ocean, and this pitch 21 was supposed to be the easy one, but I was slowly doing battle with a squeeze chimney. The “poetry” had been the day before, 15 beautiful, though provoking 5.10-5.12 slabs had been a very enjoyable, calf burning, fingertip-shredding voyage up to Black Heart ledge. And in a heartbeat/hand jam the nature of the route changed and the “war” began. The wall kicked back to practically overhanging blond granite, and gaping 5.11 wide cracks was the theme of the 2nd day.
Our ambitious push to climb the biggest formation just days before we were leaving was inspired by a weather forecast of perfect high pressure all week. It had already rained on us once. Still were making progress, hugely grateful to our #5 and #6 Camalots that we used to French free at every opportunity. We had given up free climbing when the drizzle set in the night before, now we just wanted to get to the top—fast. The big cams were placed on each of the upper 15 pitches except the lovely 25th, the “Bow String Crack”, which is a mostly hands splitter that detours a huge arching offwidth. Soon after that fun-in-the-sun hand-jamming pitch, the rain began to fall and the wind blew the ropes sideways. We shivered climbing and belaying in all our clothes. OW in a rain slicker takes on a whole new slippery meaning. 
[Rutherford leading the Bow String Crack, pitch 25, War and Poetry]
The last pitch said 5.7 on the topo, but slick-as-snot lichen made the spread-eagle chimney virtually impossible. I had inadequate gear, thinking I wouldn’t need much. Already frazzled I scared myself half to death trying to mantle the flat top of the mountain. I finally brought poor frozen Jasmin to the cloud shrouded summit. She bat-manned the rope after an exciting whip off the glassy footholds.
After all that effort we got only one summit photo, blurry and gray. We quickly put on our longjohns and socks, ready to be on the ground. We had an El Capitan-sized mountain to rappel and it was about to be dark. Four hours later I squeezed the water out of my glove and watched the silver sparkles of the waterfall the slab had become. I was standing on a ledge, my Mythos in a puddle. I waited for the “off rappel”, hoping my sleeping bag wasn’t getting soaked in my pack on my back. Though elated, I felt a bleak exhaustion. And if I just kept rappelling a few more hours… we would be warm and dry.
[Rutherford and Caton's summit photo from atop Ulamertorsuaq]
Back at our blissful basecamp by the sea, we reveled about our climbs. Jasmin reminded me of the endless hand jams of the British Route (5.12+) on Nalumasortoq, a sunny contrast to our last climb. The big fishtail-shaped wall of gold granite was where we spent our first two days in the Tasermuit Fjord. The sun had been too hot, and we gobied our shoulders for lack of sleeves. The endless 18 pitches of hands in a left-facing corner, was some of the best climbing in the world as far as I can tell. Pitches 16 and 17 were stellar 5.12 finger cracks, but after a sitting, shivering bivy in down jackets, we didn’t manage to onsight them. I was far too calorie deprived to bother pulling the rope, so we carried on to the summit. 
{The line of the British Route on Nalumasortoq]
The spectacular view from Nalumasortoq’s top was rivaled by the endless wildflowers and alpine meadows. Big boulders and glorious alpine light characterized our little piece of Greenland. This was one of the best expeditions of my climbing life. I had a great climbing partner, tasty food (read Jasmin’s report for more on that!), plentiful beauty and long steep cracks to climb. I can’t wait to go back!
This trip was made possible by the Mugs Stump Award and Jen Higgins Memorial Fund. A million thanks! Additional support from Patagonia, Black Diamond, Sterling Ropes and La Sportiva.
Foraging 101: What not to eat in the Tasermiut Fjord, Greenland
By Jasmin Caton
If I could pass on the most important thing I learned from my climbing trip to the Tasermiut Fjord in Greenland, it would be this: don't eat foraged foods unless you are absolutely sure they won't make you barf. I thought I knew this already, but I guess when you turn 30 you have to re-learn lessons you learned in previous decades of your life. It's like the lessons have an expiration date, kind of like when you forget how bad a hangover feels so you have a few cocktails too many, only to swear off drinking for the rest of your life when you spend the next day feeling like crusty Squamish slug scum.
It was all the weather's fault. My climbing partner Kate Rutherford and I hadn't climbed anything in over 10 days because of drizzly and unsettled conditions that had kept the huge, steep granite faces of the Tasermiut Fjord seeping and damp. Two days prior, conditions improved and we got all ready to head up the British Route (VI 5.12+ 600m/19 pitches) on Nalumasortoq for a second time, with hopes of redpointing the two 5.12 pitches we were unable to onsight on our first go up the route. We hiked to the base and bivied, waking the next morning to find the face still soaking wet with a thick fog preventing further drying and some pretty regular and large rockfall occurring near the base of the route. We completed the two-hour hike back down to basecamp and shifted our objective to the quicker-drying but longer War and Poetry (VI 5.12c 1000m/31 pitches) on Ulamatorsuaq. On the same day, we repacked and hiked two hours up to the base of this route, hoping to begin climbing the following day, but by the time we arrived at the bivy boulder the drizzle had begun yet again. We had no choice but to stash our climbing gear and head back down to basecamp for more reading and chilling in the Megamid until conditions were right to go climbing.
I was going a little batty. I am a high-energy person who generally needs a good amount of physical and mental challenge to feel satisfied. I had opted to go "coffee free" on this trip, which certainly helped me to manage my impatience with the poor weather, but after almost two weeks of waiting I was beginning to lose the plot. The worst part was, the weather was actually not that bad for doing anything but climbing. Hiking - fine. Fishing - fine. Bouldering - fine. But the long-seeping nature of most of the climbs, combined with daily doses of drizzle and thick fog meant that full day to multi-day free climbs were not an option.
So I went hiking. I hiked for a few hours up a hill behind basecamp, snapping photos of the vegetation and enjoying views of the spectacular scenery. On my way back to camp I noticed some large, brown mushrooms of the same variety that a team of Czech climbers at the same camp as us had been collecting and eating daily. A pair of Danish Peregrine Falcon researchers I got to know at a youth hostel in one of the Greenlandic villages we stopped off at on our way to the Tasermiut Fjord had also been collecting and eating the same mushrooms. Well, I am sure you can see where this is going... I picked one of the mushrooms and carried it back down to camp. Conveniently, the Czech guys were around when I got back, so I could double "Czech" that this was, indeed, the correct variety of mushroom. They confirmed that it was, and went so far as to trade a larger mushroom of the same variety for our smaller one so that we would have more for our dinner. Kate and I cooked up a pasta sauce which we thought was quite gourmet with the sautéed mushrooms, some tomato sauce, a bit of sundried tomato pesto, onions, garlic, oregano and some red wine. Bellisimo! Or not... Several hours later we were both barfing to beat the band. It was a rugged night. Really rugged. I managed to get down some breakfast and water, but after going on a short hike down the fjord puked it all up and realized that hiking solo away from basecamp in the middle of nowhere Greenland while suffering from some kind of mushroom poisoning wasn't the brightest thing I have ever done. I dragged myself back to camp where Kate and I spent the rest of the day being really pathetic and weak.
The irony is that the other two climbing teams in the area both ate the same mushrooms that night, including the one that I had picked and none of them got sick at all. Moral of the story, don't forage unless you are trying to send your steep single-pitch project and need to shave off that last few kilos.
Basically I am trying to scare you all away so that you won't find out how rad the Tasermiut Fjord is and I can have it as my own, private summer retreat with amazing granite big wall climbing, crystal clear blue ocean water, lush and flower covered meadows, super fun bouldering, wild blueberries, mussels and arctic char, oh, and mushrooms. I am going back for sure.
[Rutherford and Caton (aka, The Greenland Gunshow) below Ulamatorsuaq]
In terms of climbing, we did the British Route (VI 5.12+ 600m/19 pitches) on Nalumasortoq over one and a half days with a light and simple semi-sitting bivy on a ledge with down jackets and a sil tarp. It's no wonder we didn't onsight the 5.12 pitches after that night of "sleep". If I could summarize the route in two words they would be: HAND JAM. We did about a zillion of them. Not a single pitch was slabby; it was all vertical to slightly overhanging and mostly really good stone. The crux pitches were cool finger crack climbing with slightly licheny, flakey feet but would be very doable if they were pitch 2 and 3, a bit less so because they are pitch 16 and 17.
[Rutherford in the golden evening light doing the 5679th and 5680th handjams on pitch 12 of the British Route, Nalumasortoq]
After patiently and not-so-patiently waiting in the rain for two weeks, we climbed War and Poetry on Ulamatorsuaq (VI 5.12c 1000m/31 pitches) in marginal conditions. We soon realized that freeing a 31-pitch big wall with no haul bags and no portaledge in two days is difficult to begin with and made only more challenging when it becomes freezing cold, rainy and windy for parts of both of the two days. When we hit the half way mark and the weather went south, free climbing switched to a mix of free and French-free and second following went to second jumaring in an effort to just get to the top. It was on pitch 21 or so, as I dragged my meat through a gaping crack, leaving scabs on my shoulders, spine and knees, that I had 'the epiphany’. After poetically dancing and prancing our way up the 5.10 to 5.12 slab pitches on the first half of the route, we were now waging war with steeper rough, wide, physical dihedral climbing. Ah ha! War and Poetry! The really proud thing was that the Czech team who did the route before we arrived didn't bring anything bigger than a #4 Camalot. For reference: we brought a #5 and a #6 and placed them both on at least 10 of the last 15 pitches. We topped out in a rain and windstorm at around 21:30 on our second day on the route. We rapped all night, doing at least 28 raps to get to the ground in a variety of conditions that ranged from wet and windy, to dry and windy, to calm and pouring. The only consistent thing was the cold. I pretty much shivered the whole night except when I rapped down the wrong way off a ledge and had to jug back up. It's pretty safe to say that I have never been so trashed. My fingertips were completely raw and I was having some cool sparkly, over-tired hallucinations in my peripheral vision, although maybe that was just a residual effect from the mushroom poisoning. We collapsed into our tent at the bivy boulder after feasting on ramen, herbal tea and ibuprofen. Five hours later we were ready, barely, to limp the 700 vertical meters back down to basecamp for a real feast and some more sleep.
The line of War and Poetry, Ulamatorsuaq]
Despite the bad weather, it was hard to leave the Tasermiut Fjord at the end of our 20-day expedition. I could have easily spent another 10 days climbing or waiting to climb simply because the place is truly amazing. Beautiful stone, beautiful scenery and a great partner made this trip a success, even if I could have done with a bit more time on the rock.
I have to admit, that it was nice to get back to the creature comforts. We stopped in Reykjavik, Iceland on our way home and treated ourselves to a spa day, complete with real beds, a trip to the Blue Lagoon natural hotspring, and cappuccinos and pastries galore. The Blue Lagoon doesn't get much better for muscles tired from climbing and travel. Did I mention you can get wine in the pool? Enough said!
MANY MANY MANY THANKS TO: THE MUGS STUMP AWARD, THE JEN HIGGINS MEMORIAL FUND AND MOUNTAIN EQUIPMENT CO-OP FOR MAKING THIS TRIP POSSIBLE!
Additional thanks to Patagonia, Black Diamond, Pro Bar, Sterling Rope and Five Ten for providing stuff we needed for the trip
Great Britain / English 
