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Frozen Evolution  Will Gadd

Frozen Evolution  Will Gadd

Ice climbing has evolved at glacial speed until mixed climbing and competition provided some heat. Today we’re climbing in what I believe is the best time ever to be a tool-swinger; the options and gear for winter climbing are almost as abundant as the reasons we all swing tools into ice, mud or rock. I thought I’d describe the main protagonists behind this proliferation:

1. The “Traditionalist” started ice climbing when it took a third tool to place an ice screw and umbilicals used to come on expensive items other than babies. Still climbs primarily with leashes, but is eyeing a set of leashless tools for Christmas.

2. The “Scrabbler” climbs M-Silly but occasionally falls off the easy “grade 7+!” ice at the end of a radical cave. Doesn’t remember that all ice tools used to come with leashes and doesn’t care. Probably climbs hard rock all summer and may have incited a near-riot by attempting to drytool local rock routes.

3. The “Spring Mountaineer” knows that French Technique doesn’t refer to sex, owns a very long often leashless tool known as a piolet and covets the summits of semi-dormant volcanoes worldwide. Has plans to climb at “serious high altitude” one day but can’t quite find the right partner.

4. The “Stylish Alpinist” runs up yesterday’s hard alpine routes with minimal gear but still suffers massively under the huge weight of hubris and history. Often writes articles or letters lambasting everybody else ‘cause, well, ‘cause he’s cool and everybody else isn’t.

5. The “Sponsored Star” claims mastery of all of the above, while often excelling primarily at posing for photo shoots and working the phones after climbing a variant on a variant of a really hard (take your pick) peak, face, cave, road cut or dead tree. Knows the square centimeters available on all his clothing for “logo placement,” and has a rate card based on the same. Usually climbs poorly in comps or in public but manages to succeed on last-year’s test pieces after a lot of work.

6. You and me. We’re perfect. That should clear things up. To me it doesn’t matter whether we climb leashless, leashed or with steak knives in each hand. What matters is getting out the door early on a cold day and driving somewhere with coffee, music and laughter leading to a memorable day of it, whatever “it” is. That we have incredible new options in gear is just a bonus, the ice on a mixed route if you will. Give ‘er.

The views expressed in this exposé don’t necessarily reflect the opinions of Black Diamond, on most days. —ED

Will Gadd

Satirist, periodic linguist, BD gear-tester and world-class athlete, Will tries to spend as little time behind a desk as possible because “nobody ever died wishing they had spent more time behind [one].” With his juggernaut-like athleticism and visionary thinking, he has dominated for nearly a decade in Ice World Cup competitions and has continuously opened or repeated the most difficult mixed climbs in the world.

Driving, Riding and Being Driven  Rich Gottlieb

Felix is on the edge of the driver’s seat with his hands welded to the wheel, navigating us through a snow storm in the middle of the night. We are headed toward the Gaspé/sie in a tiny car so tightly packed with gear that it resembles a sardine can on wheels. Scattered on the floor are two shoeboxes of CDs, bags of chips and an ice climbing guide written in French. Our spirits are high despite the fact that this whiteout has slowed us to a crawl punctuated with sudden “are we still on the road?” stops.

Finally, we make it to Camp 1, which, like 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6, is a motel/bar where hydration is on tap and where deep sleep is inevitable, or so we think. Late at night while organizing for our first day’s climbing, the motel’s silence is shattered by a couple down the hall who seem to be cruxing on their summit push. The duration and volume of their efforts are to be admired, but sleep does not come easy.

So why aren’t we clipping bolts on the beach? Felix and I don’t run from winter, we burrow into it. Plus, we are drivers: we fuel our machines, pilot ‘em, pack ‘em, and stink ‘em up. So what if Quebec doesn’t contain one of the major mountain ranges and we don’t have really big muscles and wear eye patches. We’re into ice and Quebec’s long ice routes rock! We’ve got the goods: sleds, snowshoes, skis, headlamps, credit cards, as well as the perfunctory ice gear.

We do two routes our first day out. #1 is “so what” but #2 is “oh my god.” We descend towards the car at dusk feeling pretty good about ourselves despite, or because of, the savage weather that we are enduring. Yep, we are feeling darn good about ourselves until we see Him. He passes us like a spectre as we’re sitting in our parked car with the heater blasting, taking off our boots and gaiters. The wind is positively ripping now and snow is coming down and swirling tornado-like in the dark. But there he is, riding a bicycle—not just riding a bicycle, this guy’s touring on his bicycle. His headlamp is flickering, he has panniers front and rear, and he has a sleeping bag on his rack; an aberration peddling in a maelstrom. Was this the Grim Reaper of the north cutting down our heroic fantasy with his icy scythe? No this was just another guy trying to make the most out of a day and get his ya-ya’s. I’ll bet he can’t resist a great piece of gear either.

Rich Gottlieb

After almost 25 years of holding court there, Rich Gottlieb is the paterfamilias of the Gunks. When he’s not explaining the finer points of technical gear at his shop, Rock and Snow, he’s out using it—enjoying it most when the gear is pointy and the temps are freezing.

The Fairy and the Troll  James Loveridge

So I’m holding a 24-volt hammer drill against a solid chunk of rock but somehow I just can’t get myself to pull the trigger. Suddenly, near my left ear, a tiny Sport Fairy emerges from a cloud that smells a bit like a Chai Latte (skim milk, of course). She’s completely decked out in the latest hi-tech “soft shell” attire and has two new leashless ice tools draped over her shoulder.

“C’mon man. Do it! It’s just a little 10 mm hole.”

Then a second little cloud smelling of stale “truck stop” coffee and peanut butter materializes next to my right ear. A bearded, Gore-Tex encased Trad Troll with a mismatched pair of thrashed tools dangling from his wrists materializes.

“But there’s a perfectly good crack two feet to the left. Why drill when you can place a good cam?”

“Aw, pipe down Gramps!” says the Sport Fairy. “If it were up to you we’d all be using wooden-handled alpenstocks and grade 4 ice would be as hard as it gets.”

“At least I climb ice!” says the Trad Troll. “You just scratch around on rock with those deer-antler-looking, poor excuses for tools.”

“It’s called drytooling,” says the Sport Fairy. “And maybe if you put down the doughnuts and trained once in a while you could do it too.”

“Drytooling? Ha!” bursts the Trad Troll. “When I was young, drytooling was something you did on a Saturday night if you didn’t have a date!”

“Alright!” I say. “That’s enough! You two have to behave and talk about this like two rational figments of my imagination. Miss Fairy, I believe you get the floor after that last remark from Mr. Troll.”

“Well, I just don’t see what the big deal is. I mean, this crag is the perfect M-climbing crag. Choss that no one in their right mind would rock climb and barely any possibility of natural protection. Sure, you could put a cam in but what are you gonna say in the route description ‘bring 12 quickdraws and a #2 Camalot?’ That just seems dumb. Besides, if that crack ices up in future years and the piece blows, you’ll hit that ledge from 15 feet up. It wouldn’t be pretty.”

“So you’d place a bolt just because it would be more convenient to print ‘bring 13 quickdraws’ in a guidebook?” says the Trad Troll. “Who are you to decide what kind of experience others should have. I have a Troll brother who could probably climb that line on a couple cams, tied-off stubby screws and sky hooks duct taped to the rock.”

“Don’t you think that’s just a bit elitist?” says the Sport Fairy. “I suppose you’d prefer to have a route that only a handful of Trolls would climb versus a route that the entire pantheon of mythical children’s story creatures could climb?”

“The Easter Bunny could climb this if you bolt it!” scoffs the Trad Troll. “Besides, nature is elitist, survival of the fittest; if you are not fit mentally as well as physically you don’t attempt the climb. Speaking of nature, have you thought of the environmental impact that a bolted crag produces?”

“Bolts are hardly environmental impact. The clear-cuts on the way to this crag are environmental impact.”

“It’s not the bolts, it’s the increased numbers of climbers who follow them that make the impact.”

The two of them go on like this for hours. The debate heats up until they finally decide to throw down. I think it will be a toss up. The Sport Fairy goes into a Karate Kid “Crane” pose and looks formidable with those heel spurs and evil looking leashless rigs. The Trad Troll is swinging his Tools around like nun-chucks and definitely has the weight advantage. They attack each other and in a poof, they’re gone and I’m left there holding the drill, still wondering what to do...

James Loveridge

When not distracted by imaginary creatures or tinkering with gear, James (aka J.Lo) is often found climbing new ice and mixed routes around the upper Midwest and Canada. We also keep him busy representing all things BD in the heartland.