India Part 2: New Terrain.

India: Part 2

Approaching the Mystery Wall

The 3 ladies, nicknamed “Not ready to be Housewives” along with our new friends, finally arrived to our destination.  Five people, 12 packs, 2 crash pads, and 1 driver exploded out of the Toyota Hiace.  I wish they made them in the states p.s.  

Looking back towards the valley and our basecamp

The cliff luring us to this side of the Himachal Pradesh loomed straight over head.  Shoshala was first climbed by a Finnish team a few springs ago.  Their climb, mixed with many bolts, opened a serious of corners and small cracks on the south-center aspect of this spearheaded peak.  Throughout our research it seemed they did not tag the true summit.  Doing so would have required more climbing via a jagged undulating ridge.

Whitney brewing up

Speaking to locals we learned that our mid-October attempt would have limitations.  No water.  The steepening grass tufts and ramps allow no place for water to sit.  Spring snow accumulation allowed for the European team to collect some snow from shaded areas nearby.  We would have no such luck.  Water would have to be transported up.

Two nearby valleys also caught our eyes, the gameshow suspense began.   I was keen to climb, push myself to higher elevations.  This is the Himalayas after all.  Team discussion thickened.  Option number 2, the Mystery Wall, enticed with its name alone!  Sylvia Videl first person climbed the Mystery Wall’s giant granite face.

Still Approaching.  First pitch of climb is the leaning dihedral.
Aiming for the middle of three splitters abov.  

Hugged by pinnacle gendarmes swooping over a vast expanse of landscape, all tucked under a massive hanging glacier and 6000 m summit.  

Another slightly less impressive objective also stirred the conversation, option 3.  Alluring in possibility of stellar camping, running water and route-less peaks.  These peaks much smaller in comparison.  

Door number 1, 2, or 3, what would it be?

With 3 porters, 60 some eggs hard boiled, a head of cabbage, some stinky cheese and an arrangement of dehydrated oats and prepackaged meals we opted for door number 2.  The approach to the Mystery Wall involved a long slog straight up a grassy hillside.  Four hours in, we were forced to do a proper bouldering move to ascend any further.  Dropping our own heavy packs in a semi-flat nook 20 feet up from the boulder problem.  I scurried around hoping for a better bivy site while Whitney cleared a space big enough for our tent.  The porters insisted and angrily attempted the boulder problem refusing to give us the packs until they had ‘finished.’  I finally snagged the pack off the eldest of the three (who was completely exhausted, hungry and thirsty) and passed it up to Crystal.  One of the porters mentioned they hadn’t eaten breakfast, and of course were not carrying any lunch.  Geez!  All quickly rummaged the packs, shoving food and water their direction.  

Quinn on the first pitch.  

The men ate and began their load-free descent.  They would return in 9 days to help carry out our kit.  The ladies settled in, discussing our plan for the morning while the sun descended beneath the neighboring snow covered range.   

Essentially, the rest of the approach followed the water carved steep slabs and curvaceous deep waterholes requiring moderate soloing.  We encountered a singular bolt above a 100 foot steep section.  A trace of Sylvia and her gaggle of porters.  Nice, at least we don’t have to down climb that section! 

Our intentions were to climb new routes, hopefully new summits, all alpine style and bivy on route if necessary.  As we approached the light on the face altered the mountains features.  Sylvia’s wall undressed as a sheer, featureless granite sheet.  

My eyes gazed left, towards a pillar leading to the skyline ridge of the mountain.  Vertical climbing to probably difficult ridge climbing sprinkled with snow and ice.  

Crystal scoping out the line.  A splitter in the dihedral. 

At 4000m we carved a tiny bivy spot in scree.  The only flat-ish spot even close to the start of our intended line.  I led the first 70 m pitch, a less than vertical, very dirty right facing dihedral with a wide crack.  Crystal led the second 70 m, a really fun nobby face to another right facing dihedral.  

Whitney led the third rope stretcher.  She made a hard move off the belay, trending leftward to a giant scree covered ledge.  It started to graupel.  Crystal and I followed the pitch, then scurried further up the ledge to check out the corner we had been eyeing.  

Was it really a crack?  

Heavy clouds teased us, swooping about, we barely caught a glimpse.  

Splitter!  It looked really good.  

We retreated to Whitney, cautiously poking around for a proper rappel anchor.  The ground white with tiny ball bearings of precipitation.  Finally, a purple camelot and number 2 ball-nut found their home.  Crystal descended first, her rope shifted causing a basketball sized boulder to tumble onto her knee.  

Trying to find an reasonable anchor.  Graupel accumulating.  

Bivy at the base of the climb.

Again we slept at the base.  Sunrise brought crisp mountain air, a thick blanket of dew and a weather forecast of clear skies for only one more day.  We estimated at least 5 more new pitches to gain the ridge.  Scale of the upper mountain was hard to gauge.  Whitney and I were left to continue upwards as a pair.  Crystal’s knee was stiff and swollen, she was out. 

Descending was a difficult decision in blue skies, but staying together as a team was important.  Arriving to our tent lower down valley, we drank the remaining whiskey.  The following morning we opted to hike our gear, days earlier than scheduled departure with the porters.  A snow storm swirled in the following day, easing our decision to bail.  I found myself discouraged.   

The snow storm.  Glad we descended.  Mystery Wall, the lower left pink face, our pillar edges the left of the wall.

Days passed.  With new snow accumulation, we hoped snow would be available to melt, in addition to the 25 liters our porters would carry to our original destination, Shoshala.  We estimated a 5-6 day mission.  

Shoshala 

Departing in good spirits, water slowly seeped from the porters backpacks.  Straight out of town we ascended thick grassy slopes to find a few hours later another tiny perch with outstanding views.  

  

The next day we rallied early.  Crystal climbed the breakfast pitch.  A beautiful and clean V- slot led her to a perfect hand-sized splitter on the left.  This pitch finished with a 10 foot section of perfect number 5 Camelot to a bushy mantel, 5.10+.  I headed up another perfect hand sized splitter to another smaller nest of grass, 5.9.  Pace slowed on the third, as the now finger crack was brimming with bushes and tufts of grass.  Whitney cleaned, tufts of dirt spewing over the three of us.  She retreated, Crystal headed up and wrestled a giant bush mid-pitch.  

We giggled, inappropriate jokes abound.  

First Pitch.  

The sun quickly arched over us, decent back to camp was upon us.  The following day we jummared to the base of pitch 3.  I took over, cleaning only enough to aid my way up the crack.  The crack began to taper but so did the angle.  I free climbed above tiny wires to another bushy stance.  We needed to continue upward momentum.  Crystal followed quickly, I belayed her as she blast off on pitch four.  Whitney mini traction the third pitch and attempted to clean a bit more, a now climbable finger crack at 5.11.   

Swapping leads upwards 3-4 more pitches brought us clean cracks again.  Unique and varied climbing, bushy mantels, lay backs, underclings, fist cracks, and a dash of heady slab moves.  Day three we had reached a steep mid-mountain grassy knoll.  

Pitch 3, Housewife cleaning.  All that remains is the green bush. 

We glanced upward, a myriad of broken cracks and bushy dihedrals confused us.  Daylight was again fading.  Day 4 flurries kept us tent bound.  Sipping tea, we discussed our personal lives and our climbing options.  Day 5 we rallied early but cold temperatures slowed our pace.  Beautiful climbing and good gear quickly ended.  Funky placements and a thick bushy ledge traverse led nowhere.  

This was our last day of food.  Eight excellent pitches with much more mountain to go.  

Defeated we descended the mountain.   

Like most humans in stressful environments, we didn’t always agree, we weren’t on the same eating regimen or sleep schedule, we have different skill-sets and overall priorities.  The dichotomy of external and internal challenges constantly edged us, weather and water issues, strong opinions and fluctuating stoke.  As a group, though, we were able to confidently express our views, earnestly listen, see one another perspective and move on as a collective.  

Still giggling even though calorie deprived and short of a summit.  

We traveled to India “Not ready to be Housewives.”  A joke name with serious undertones of us running from scary unknown terrain of life.  Impending and almost certain adventure-less moments—marriage, babies, or full-time work.  Oh my!  

Hilarious!  As climbers we constantly navigate and seek out difficult unknown terrain with a positive attitude and fervor.  

Ah, how climbing continues to make me a better person.  

We may not have conquered any summits in India but we also haven’t conquered ourselves.  Thank goodness, because I would hate to have already reached the pinnacle. 

Our high point.  Tibet not so far behind us.


***Whitney and Crystal arrived 3 weeks before I and did climb two new routes.  http://www.alpinist.com/doc/web15y/newswire-team-authors-new-lines-india-himachal-pradesh

Many thank you's for supporting this expedition GORE-TEX, Petzl, Hyperlight Mountain Gear,
Skratch Labs, Omega Pacific, Mammut,  La Sportiva.   

Not Ready to be Housewives: Welcome to India

Main Bazaar

India.  I hated it upon first arrival.  Not because I actually had an educated peripheral experience.  

Buying supplies

I was a jet lagged unprepared American and it was 4 am.  

I spoke no Indian.  

I smelled of recycled air and privilege.  

With a fax number for my hotel contact and a vague mile long street location, I was .... 

I was plain lucky the kind and patient taxi driver decided to use his own phone to repeatedly call my mistaken phone number.  He asked every snoring street-side sleeper if they had heard of Karlos Kastel Hostel.  Finally he backed into a small alleyway with a smile, nod and hand motion that we had arrived.  

Public Baths, Vashisht

I was uncertain...thinking he just wanted to be rid of his pre-dawn cargo drama.  

He was right. 

We had arrived.  The 3 boys sleeping across the tiny lobby sofa's and coffee tables assisted in my check in.  My name was 'on the list' thanks to Crystal and Whitney nearly one month prior.  

I entered my private room, sweaty, exhausted and cross-eyed.  

I slept.  

Maybe I slept.  

View from the town of Vashisht

Legs twitched from 20 hours of airplane comfort.  

My journey jostling elbows in this city of over 18 million people had only just begun.  

Alone with many more hours to travel, I ventured cautiously from my 'private' alleyway to sort transportation onward.   

Whitney enjoying one of the many Chai stops

The Main Bazaar is a bustling commerce center in the heart of Delhi.  

Car horns, rickshaws, people and cows fighting for space nearly all hours of the day.  The hours zoomed by in a whirl bobbing and weaving through the street lined shops, fruit stands and occasional pile of feces…cow and human alike.  

Packing up early morning Vashisht

Finally, on the night bus, I tossed and turned almost rhythmically along with the exceptionally winding road north.  After a brief and unintended 3 hours pit stop somewhere rural northern India, due to an axle issue, I finally plopped into a gravel parking lot in Manali.  Excited my travel journey was only to be 20 minutes more, I hailed the first motor rickshaw driver in sight, forgoing any sort of bartering with the driver.  Forget saving 40 cents, I just wanted to be in Vashisht with the girls! 

Manali to Vashisht richshaw ride

A beautiful, stunning, breath taking ride from Manali to Vashisht, reignited my heart.  I had been so life busy prior to India and brain focused on travel logistics, that I hadn’t taken a moment to ponder and appreciate.  I had now reached fresh air, scaling lush mountains and ridges abound.  More perfectly vague directions dropped me off at the end of the small cobblestone road, right outside a public bath.  I ditched my gear at a local shop, backtracking a few hundred yards to a rooftop cafe.  Crystal and Whitney were anticipating my arrival on this day.  

A glorious sight for sore eyes— people and a language I knew! My shoulders nearly slid down off my back entirely as I relaxed.  

just a few of the regular roadway hazards

Summit!

The girls, having 3 weeks prior to my arrival, had just completed their second foray into the Himalayas.  Their first mission included a second ascent of peak CB6a (5450 m), by their route NibbiJibbi (5.10-, 400 m).  Their second adventure climbed an unnamed 5100-meter peak in the Miyar Valley, they named their route Poornima (5.10, 600 m).  This valley was icy cold.  A long storm left them tent bound for days.  Almost October, the higher peaks were experiencing a pubescent cycle.  Immature ice, once clean rock now pitted with snow and a horrible cover-up of crevasses.  

They switched objectives and climbed a beautiful new line in a push.   

Crystal cheezin 

Seeing their smiling faces, breathing fresh mountain air and nearly touching the surrounding peaks, renewed my stoke.  I bit my lip, attempting to calm the energy boiling… What do you think, how are conditions, what is the snow line, what is the weather? 

“When do we head back in?” I blurted somewhere between “Hi” and “It is so nice to see you.”

Pitch 3 of Poornima

Shrugging, Freshy Ms Fresh was up against miles of trekking with big loads, cold climbing and wet camping.  I am not blaming these ladies for lack of enthusiasm nor diminishing their accomplishments.  I wish I could have joined.  

Its just that I was amped and a little tiredness secreted out their gaze.  

We chilled for two nights in the hippie town of Vashisht, planning and scheming.  The third day 5am a private taxi van transported us eastward 12 hours across the Himachal Pradesh.  The narrow dirt roads (bike paths in North America) carved out mountain sides.  In some places the mountain regained control, causing total destruction to our path forcing all to reroute.  Delivery trucks, public transportation buses and our taxi vans literally kissed one another as we passed.  

Whitney and CB6a

Nearing our climbing destination

http://www.alpinist.com/doc/web15y/newswire-team-authors-new-lines-India-himachal-pradesh

Clean teeth-- Clean climbing!

Ariana winks.  

Precisely etched corners refract the dawns early rays.  The orange, no, the pinkish-red glow of triangular granite looms overhead.  An evolving electric blue sky hugs from behind.  A gurgling pitter patter of fresh snow melt slips its way through lime green tufts.  
Color and energy abound.  

The Diamond lives up to its namesake this July morning.  

Brilliant

We approach quietly, soaking in the scene.  Long's Peak and its East Face stand proudly at 14,000 feet. 

14k Diamond.  

Two parties are tucked in a boulder bivy on the west side of Chasm Lake. They are friends of ours from Durango.  Just six of us hoping to claw upward through dreamy granite splitters.  Lucky to be with friends, lucky there wasn't more.    

Alluring

The North Chimney is no joke.  The Diamond's proximity to the Front Range, a handful of 'moderate' climbs such as Pervertical and the Casual Route, combined with the proliferation of climbing in Colorado---eh, the world -- makes it a crowded alpine 'crag' some days. The Diamond has become a popular first alpine climb.  Sadly, delicate grace and mountain humbleness has not yet been cultivated. 

Pernicious

Loose blocks tumble, grazing by heads and ropes---if your lucky!  Death and serious injury do occur.    

Stomping our way up steep snow, a wet cross over onto a rock apron finds us shoed-up and tied-in.  Jens sets sail up the North Chimney in one long pitch.  We dance the fine line of casual-moderate-terrain-effortless-cruising and wheels-off-the-wagon-loose-rocks-shit-could-hit-the-fan.

Unscathed, we sashay across the massive Broadway ledge.  

Jens following the golden crux pitch

Ariana teases.   

I begin to ascend the perfect dihedral's-- stretching to the ropes end.  My lead felt fluid, but my head was already spinning in anticipation.  

Thoughts refract.  

On-sight? Failure? Motivation? Ability? 

Jens arrival to the ledge snaps me from the day dream.  Gear is exchanged and he dances upward. 

Another moderate pitch sets us at the base of Ariana's goods.  A golden pillar sliced with a shallow finger crack.  I didn't pause, I am not even sure I made eye-contact with Jens. 

I played through.    

Timid at first, cautious of rejection.  Ariana's finicky nature precedes her.  

My breathing is labored.  Chasm lake glimmers and tiny boulders 2000 feet below edge my peripheral.  I place a wire, with a firm yank it holds fast.  

I shrug, still uncertain.  

Feet--feet-- stay on your feet.  

I step left precariously than upward, placing a small cam.  

Bah 

A grunt escapes as I delicately jam upwards.  Blood pulses into my forearms.  Ariana holds steady, providing thin finger locks and meek shallow hand jams  These provide temporary relief, calming my breath while balancing on tiny edges.  I miraculously find tiny stances and continue ascending.    

AhaHHHH 

Many more loud grunts echo through the Chasm cirque.  Exhausted, I throw myself through the final moves to the anchor.  

HOLY SHIT!!!  I exclaimed or thought or whispered.  

Jens follows gracefully, with a toothy smile and a giant exhale he arrives ready to tackle the final pitch.  Another full value brilliant hand and finger crack with a slabby crimp finish. 

Soon I am moving upwards.  While not as pumpy as the crux pitch, there is no backseat during this 140 foot pitch.   

With a glance at the time and a quick conversation of up or down...we couldn't resist.  

UP, one more at least!! 

I jetted up the last 5.9 pitch to Table Ledge.  With an ever important dentist appointment at 3pm--we thread the ropes and worked our way back to Broadway and the once far far away scree field.  Chasm lake still shimmering but the Diamond much darker.  

Her brilliance exhausted for the day-- Ariana let two cruise by first try!!   

What a day!!!            What a dream!!!!              What a dentist appointment????

Table Ledge Success, Ops --11:45--Time to Jet!  

Fitz Roy

Approaching Fitz Roy's west side

“Is that you Clay?”  Sam piped up, poking fun in the full moon from our tightly packed perch. 

We had all just settled uncomfortably into our sleeping bags, tethered by cordelette and were already greeted by the loud rhythmic sound of air squeezing through a nasal passage.  Chad was out, snoring, and clearly comfortable with his legs dangling over the lip of granite.  Dreaming of rainbows and Alfahores (the most delicious cookie/carmel/chocolate treat EVER), I am sure. 

The final push to begin the route.  

  

Jens silently stirred snuggled next to Chad in their dual sleeping sack.  

Two peas in a pod.

Luke lay to my right, stiff and quite.  I think he snuck a sleeping pill.  

Clay laughed on my left side. “Ha, nope, not me tonight Sam!”

Sam, somewhere near my feet...hugging the edge...rubbed his arms methodically in attempts to stay warm, complaining of cold triceps!!! 

I slept with my face buried into my sleeping bag, hugging a rock with my cheek, chest down all twisted up.   The climbing rope under my ass leveled me just enough from slipping too far down the ledge.

Six of us sleeping on one 8 by 5 ledge, strewn with boulders and patches of ice.  

Snow was not easily accessed for melting and we were all too lazy to seek it out.

This was our second bivy on Fitz Roy. 

Stoked to be on Fitz Roy!!!

Earlier that morning Luke, Sam, Clay and myself had been awoken at our first bivy (a plush platform hanging over the northern side of Fitz Roy.

Chad and Jens had gotten an early start from their bivy lower down on the route and were climbing over our sleeping bags with smiles.  

“Morning guys,” Chad greeted us with a smile through the early dawn light.  The 4 of us started packing our kits as Jens and Chad set-up to blast up our first headwall.

Jens handed me back the #4 we had left for him on the snow pitches the day prior.  He gathered it out of the ice lined crack, but said he couldn't bring himself to clip it.  Nice work!!!!

Adam and Mike also began packing their kits, sleeping in a not-as-sweet- alcove 15 feet below us.  

100m of simul-climbing came to a halt!

Clay and I had started the approach and climbing with them Wednesday, February 12.  

Leading away from the snowy mess.  Glory ridge climbing once again

This was February 13th.  The ‘Breakfast pitch’ this Thursday morning leered at us all.  A shaded wall smeared with ice and snow.  

Adam and Mike were hesitant.  

Jens was the first to give it a rip, successfully hand traversing left into a short off-width section.  He mantled his ice axe, stemmed trepidasiously, and finally chicken-winged his way to a good stance with descent gear.  

Alright, it goes!!

The boys all looked at each other with uncertainty.  

Myself and Sam leading up the stella rib to our first Bivy

“Never climbed an icy crack with my rock shoes on,” Sam admitted to Clay as he prepped for his go on the ‘breakfast pitch.’

He nailed it with Clay following suit shortly after!  

Bivy ledge on night 1--cushy and amazing!

Adam and Mike were not feeling it, opting to descend. 

 “I think it would be safer just to go up,” I commented in an attempt to rally them along.

  

It didn’t work.

We were down to 3 teams. 

Wishing them safe travels as they figured out how to rappel off this crazy mountain, the 6 of us pushed further up the 5000 foot feature.  

Inching our way up the wall in a perfectly choreographed pattern of climbing and belaying, laughing and trying hard.    

Half-way up the headwall, I took over the leading.  Cracks were still a little snowy, but now with the sun's warmth a lot of wet.    

Eventually the 3 teams breached the headwall, belly flopping onto a flat sunny ledge.  The route continued around the south side of a western rib...more shade and ice.  

Sam Piper, Luke Holloway, and Mermoz and the moon glowing in behind.

Chatter filled the crisp air as we took a moment of pause.  All 3 parties able to mingle.  Gazing west at the vast icecap, conversations of previous weeks adventures and empanada parties.  We all smeared more zinc sunscreen on our faces.  Clay and Chad both accentuated their white face paint with a tan zinc lip goo.  

Comical to look at them both!  

“What were you dreaming about last night, Chad?”  I inquired, rousing him for his snoring.  

“Not sure? Man best night of sleep I have had in while, though!”  he replied with a grin.   

yup!

I continued the leading, but was super happy to have another team clearing the path today.  I could mindlessly wan....ops foot slipped on some black ice.  Mindless wandering wasn’t going to happen.

We all pushed on, now over 14 hours into our day.  The sun creeping closer to Cerro Torre and the western skyline.  

Short steep headwalls sections, wandering pitches with loose death blocks, black ice, snow and water.  This climb was not a gimme.

Worry swept across Clay’s face as the temps began to drop and it seemed we were no where near a comfortable stopping point.  

“Hey guys,” Jens hollered down to the four of us spread out working diligently on our individual pitches, “I think this ledge will fit all 6 of us!”  

I saw the relief in Luke’s eyes as he followed his line up the ledge with Sam, Chad and Jens already on it.  Clay had almost resigned to sleeping in a snowy flat patch a pitch lower, until this news broke.  

Phew, we were exhausted and ready to get settled in.  

Oh the Breakfast Pitch and the gang!

Chad commented on having never shared such a small ledge with so many people, he thought it was a riot!  

The snoring subsided or maybe I got a few minutes of sleep too.  

Either way Jens’ alarm at 5 am was dreadful.  

I convulsed with shivers.  Sam and Luke too.  All of us fairly dehydrated, exhausted and cold. 

Clay, thankfully, offered to lead the breakfast pitches again!  Luke and Sam started us off the third day.  More steep sections with iced blocks and another looming headwall.  

Sam and I looked at each other at one point, “Where are we???”  

The mountain stretched like Jack’s bean stalk....into the endless blue sky.  

Endless, it seemed that morning.  

My turn to head up the Breakfast Pitch, at last.  Headwall just got better!

We blasted off our bunk bed ledge without breakfast, without melting water.  

Three or four pitches had us at an angling scree and snow filled tennis field sized expanse.  Luke aimed right towards the steep red rock, a finger crack calling his name.  Jens aimed left, near the prow towards a fully rimmed-up crack he was convinced would fall out with a gentle tap.  Clay strayed straight up, towards an off-width filled with snow at its base.  

Ha, cragging 4200 feet off the deck, looking for the right path.  

Luke and Sam down-climbed.  

Not right.

Clay paused under the off-width without the correct sized gear to make a reasonably safe ascent.

Jens doubted his rimy hand-crack.  

Cheezin' at the bellyflop spot.  

Stumped.  All of us.
Jens gazed left.  A hand traverse led directly left around the prow back onto the north face of Fitz Roy and presumably the easier terrain we were looking for.

“HAND TRAVERSE!” I shouted up, “That’s the beta!!”  Chris Trimble had written me a little message right before we left for this mission, as I knew he had climbed Afanasieff last year.  

‘Sick hand-traverse leads to more wandering terrain to the top.’ 

Jens took it.  

Sure enough, the sick hand-traverse bopped us around a prow and onto a few feet more of 5.10 terrain before eventually mellowing to easier 5.8 blocky climbing.  

Jens scoping out the sick hand traverse!

Chad Heading up for the hand traverse

The terrain was not too difficult, but as we climbed up higher the snow was more prominent as was the rime covering the rocks.

Capes of never-never land rime flew westward, waving up to 5 feet sideways off the granite.  Clinging like a sea urchin in the waves.  

With the developing day, the sun’s warmth melted chunks and doused us with the little ice daggers and water droplets.  

The blue sky became a more prominent visual, as 5000 feet of granite was almost entirely under our feet.  A final snow field blanketed the path to the summit ridge. 

The 6 of us high-fived, took photos, danced a little, and marveled at our birds-eye view of the Southern tip around us.  

so close...so close

Three exhausting days of work, two cold nights of sleeping on rocks, all to summit one amazing mountain.  

We were on the top of Cerro Fitz Roy!!!!!!

Summit time is exponentially shorter than ascending time.  With many rappels and tricks still to fill the day, Luke and Sam headed down first.  Chad and Jens lingered at the top with Clay and I.  I spread some of Andrew’s ashes and took a few photos for Chad and Jens with their Hostel business card.  

We all strapped on our crampons and Jens and I led our teams down the southern snow slope.  Luke and Sam had just anchored into the first rappel, Chad and Jens had just completed a 15 foot down climb section.

Cumbre dancin' on Fitz Roy!

“Hey Quinn, you might want to give Clay a belay on that section.” Chad hollered to me.  I nodded and followed suit.  

I finished the down climb after Clay, and led across a short icy bit to the first rappel station.  Luke and Sam’s ropes still through the rings.  

“Be safe guys.” Chad hollered back at us one last time.  We were not all descending the same way.  The four of us choosing the Franco-Argetintine while Chad and Jens opting for the Super Caneleta.  

We caw-cawed with joy one last time and sent one last well wish to one another.  

The six of us summited Fitz Roy on Valentines day 2014 as an unplanned team.  Psyched to spend time together, share the loads of route finding and cleaning up the icy splitters.  Snuggling and shivering on uncomfortable platforms suspended over seas of glaciers and scree.  What a treat!    

Andrew Barnes atop Fitz Roy.  Cerro Torre in the background!

The four of us completed our rappels and separated ways, as Clay and I had gear to retrieve at another camp.  Upon arriving haggard back to El Chalten on Saturday morning, our glee was quickly overthrown with news of only five successfully descending the mountain that day.  

Fitz Roy was Chad Kellogg's 5th Patagonian summit (or so he mentioned on the top).  Sadly, it was his last.  

A legend in the climbing community, it was an amazing treat to summit this prized mountain with such a pleasant and skilled alpinist.  Thank you Chad.  My heart extends to your family and close friends and to Jens for loosing his partner en route.  

Love to my dear friends Jens, Luke, Sam, Adam, Mike and my rock star partner Clay and to the whole community of climbers in Chalten who made it down safe from their adventures.  

Cerro Torre and others.  Looking west.