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Fish
Story Roger
Strong
The
whole ice platform collapsed, along with Rob’s
tools and our only shovel. The huge chunks of plunging
snow and ice made me think of a sensationalized Hollywood
explosion. Sean got yanked over the edge, loading
the anchor. Kicking wildly, he scraped his way back
onto what was left. As Kichatna Spire emptied itself
down the couloir we’d spent half the day ascending,
our dream of a first ascent on its North face fell
with it.
Kichatna Spire is an El Cap-sized pinnacle
of alluring golden granite and veins of snow and
ice. Steep on all sides with no easy way to its
summit, it tempts an engaging but serious undertaking.
Two prior attempts during one week of perfect
weather was our initiation to this isolated range.
As
a crab fisherman on the Bering Sea, I’ve spent many days
hauling hundreds of empty crab pots onto the boat in horrible conditions, not
really caring about the diminished returns. The pleasure comes not from compensation,
but from working with the crew as an efficient unit. Every action on the deck
is a challenge: Coiling 600 feet of line and wrestling 800+ pound cages every
few minutes for 40 to 50 hour stretches, all the while trying to maintain “sea-legs”—despite
the motions of the boat—and sort through hundreds of crab.
When
crab fishing becomes destitute, it usually means
it’s time to stack
the gear and try new territory, and with this outlook, Rob, Sean and I scouted
the far left side of the Spire. A huge buttress with thin ribbons of ice and
steep rock, it gave us hope of gaining the summit ridge. Another seemingly
indefinite voyage, pitch after sustained pitch
offered roofs, chimneys and steep ice runnels,
cruxes of gardening snow, ice and suspect rock.
Each one became a generous reward, as if the fishing
had finally improved, each crab pot full, hitting
the jackpot.
A
storm was building rapidly. With little more than
fading light, Sean strung together the remaining
pitches to gain the ridge. The 600 feet of scrambling
below the summit was horrifying with wind and driving snow. Content with our
new line joining the Original Route, we headed down. Each rappel was slow and
trancelike, a struggle to find and build anchors. At times the spindrift was
so thick it was difficult to breathe. Finally reaching base camp at dawn, I
couldn’t
escape the feeling that I’d spent the night hauling strings of pots through
the pounding spray of a sea storm.
Roger
Strong
Roger
Strong is a “recovering” Bering Sea Crab
Fisherman of 20 years, and a deeply obsessed winter
climbing junkie. Roj has climbed and opened new routes
of every facet in the Pacific NW, Alaska, Yosemite,
Canada, Mexico, and Europe. After a few years as
a BD climber and Field Tester, he finally landed
his dream “real” job with the BD sales
team, shucking the rollercoaster lifestyle of living
on a boat up to half the year and climbing full time
the rest.
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