Ice Climbers in Colorado

OURAY, Colo. — Huge snowflakes had been falling from the slate gray sky since before daybreak. The falling snow muted all sound, except the calls of climbers warning of falling ice.

After a day and a half of training and practicing ice-climbing techniques, the climbing guide and I rappelled 140 feet down into the Box Canyon of the Uncompaghre Gorge in southwestern Colorado. At the bottom, I moved under a small overhang and watched as the guide rappelled down the belay rope I had just descended against a backdrop of blue-green ice flowing down the cliff face. The guide looked tiny as he descended, and the ice looked like stretched taffy, flanked by huge, jagged icicles.
My longtime climbing partner, Harry Woods, and I were in Colorado to climb ice cliffs. Our intended route, Pic o’ the Vic, is described as a steep climb up the first icy prow visible from the upper bridge in Ouray Ice Park.
Ouray, Colo., is a quaint old town and small high-mountain valley surrounded by stark, steep and beautiful stone and snow faces. The ice park’s staff has created a mile and a half of ice-covered cliff walls down the gorge that cuts through the park by spraying river water down the cliffs every night, all winter long.
Standing at the bottom of the Pic o’ the Vic, it was too steep to see the top of the gorge. Only the lower half of the rock and ice surfaces that soared above us was visible against the gray sky. The sense of being at the bottom of a well, combined with the snow and muted sounds, made the moment feel surreal.
Guide Mark Miller had warned us that there were only two ways out of the gorge at this particular place. We would have to climb the ice back to the top or wade waist-deep into the partially frozen Uncompahgre River. Harry and I, about to turn 69 and 65 respectively, are not inclined to wade in winter.
Our guide had tethered our belay rope to a tree at the top of the gorge, and Harry remained there to belay me as I climbed. Our guide intended to climb with each of us to “talk us up the route.” He would have no protection if the ice broke and he fell.
Stepping up to the ice, I tugged on the belay rope twice so Harry would know I was ready to climb. The guide directed me to step into a crease between the curving ice sheet on the right and a huge icicle on the left, and to use their vertical surfaces to stem my way up the first 30 feet. To scale the ice, I had crampons on my boots and two ice axes. The crampons, attached to the bottom of my boots, have a boot-shaped metal base with several 1½- to 2-inch spikes pointing down around the edge and two similar spikes pointing off the front. I stuck the ice ax in the crease, kicked one crampon into the wall and the other into the icicle, then started up.
In our first lesson, the guide made us attempt to climb with only crampons so we would get used to the “ice dance” he was training us to do. Without ice axes and nothing to hold onto, I found it disconcerting but understood the balance he was teaching. While the ice gave you nothing to hold, if you kicked “firmly but lightly” into the ice with your crampons and stood back on them, you could progress up the wall. Adding the ice axes one at a time, he taught us the “dance.”
Becoming familiar with the ice-climbing sequence took repetition and more time than my weekend would permit to master. Regardless, the training was enough. At the end of our first day of learning and practicing how to ice climb, Harry and I were excited by the utter beauty of the park, the not-so-cold nature of the weather, the ease of effort versus rock climbing, and the invigorating sense of accomplishment.
Equally as exciting and interesting was the opportunity to climb beside excellent mixed rock and ice climbers. In rock (vertical) climbing, it is unusual to climb on or next to routes that are challenging to climbers who are much better climbers than you.
One afternoon, I found myself between two couples who were gifted climbers from Boulder, Colo., and Albuquerque, N.M.
As I watched, one of the men reached up, hooked in with his ice ax and started climbing up two monstrous icicles. As we visited while we were belaying our respective partners, I learned that the Colorado couple, who were superb middle-age amateur athletes, had become friends while competing across the country in ballroom dancing. She had begun ice climbing only the year before, after they were married, and was hooked.
Two guys in their 50s were climbing a route near us that required a 40-foot vertical ice climb, followed by a 50-foot climb up an outward-leaning, right-angle stone cornice, then they transitioned out onto 15-foot-long icicles that were hanging at least 4 feet away from the wall to finish the climb. It was incredible to watch. While they fell repeatedly, swinging wildly on the belay rope, they kept trying until they completed the climb. What common men can train themselves to do with some athleticism, self-discipline and determination can be inspiring and invigorating to observe at close range.
In finishing our last climb of the Pic o’ the Vic, the confidence derived from my first day of ice climbing was sorely tested. The sustained steepness of the ice increased the physical and mental challenge substantially.
Snow covered the frozen cliff face like fine powder, obscuring the indentations that one searches for with an ice ax. The anxiety of testing my recently learned skills on such a long climb made me try to move faster than good technique required, and as a result I worked too hard to climb the ice face and fatigued myself.
My guide directed me to steeply angled ice steps on which I could stand to rest my arms and legs. The last 30 feet was a push up the face that I sorely wanted to complete. It was a relief coming over the ice-covered lip of the gorge when I could hear and see Harry at the end of the belay.
After Harry completed his much more graceful ascent, we declared our first ice-climbing trip a success and retired to the natural hot springs at our hotel in Ouray.

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