The Grand Teton
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Standing on the summit of the Grand Teton near Jackson, Wyoming.
Bivouac in the Saddle between the Grand and Middle Tetons, 4 a.m.: I crawl out of my sleeping bag, open the tent flap and look at the sky - a dazzling array of intense white dots piercing a black velvet canvass. I rouse Tom and the other Tom from sleep and we dress and gather our gear for the climb - the Exum Route. As we are taking down the tent, I notice something curious about the sky - most of the sky is filled with stars but the other part, maybe a quarter, of the sky is pitch black. I watch the sky for a while. The blackness seems to be swallowing stars, moving in our direction. My perplexity vanishes with the arrival of the wind. A front is moving in. Tom, Tom and I discuss whether to wait or to start immediately. We decide to start and assess the weather as we climb, or actually, hike and scramble. Much of the Exum is scrambling on rocks rather than "technical clmbing."
Approaching Wall Street: Within minutes we are hit with the full force of the front. We stumble along the rocks as the wind buffets us. It would be impossible to climb in these conditions, but we decide to continue until the hiking/scrambing turns into climbing, and we certainly would not traverse Wall Street in this wind. Wall Street is a broad ledge that tapers to nil at the crest of the Exum Ridge, revealing a thousand foot vertical drop. After a while, the sky is half black and half speckled. By the time we approach Wall Street, the front has moved on through and the wind is gone.
Wall Street: The ledge is wide enough to park a car on at the start but literally disappears at the ridge crest. We rope up to turn the corner. Although the climbing around the corner is not difficult, it is exciting. It's like the guy in the movies creeping along a little ledge on the outside of a skyscraper and looking down at the ground a thousand feet below.
Friction Pitch: We continue scrambling but rope up for the Friction Pitch - so named because there's not much to grab onto or much climbing gear to place in the rock and you must rely on the friction between your sticky soled climbing shoes and the rock face. True friction climbing is scary, but this is not like Stone Mountain in North Carolina where the face is really smooth and there's no gear placements - just widely spaced, manky bolts. We cruise the Friction Pitch and climb the rest of the way unroped.
Summit: The summit of the Grand is spectacular, as you can see from the photo. It is capped by a rectangular rock that is seemingly made for photo ops. Standing on top of the world is a unique feeling. The vastness and beauty of the world is humbling. Life is given meaning through the seemingly meaningless act of climbing. Or rather, the myriad artificial meanings imposed upon life vanish like the sudden dying of wind, leaving calmness and clarity, if only for a moment.
Descent: We descend the Owens-Spalding route, the easiest route on the Grand. But there is one section of nervousness - traversing the glacier. Without crampons and ice tools, a slip on the glacier can lead to a long slide off the side of the mountain and several seconds of air time.
Return: Tom, Tom and I hiked back down to the valley and returned to our families, friends and work. Summiting is only half the climb. Coming home is the other, and more important, half. We all have storms to weather, and we must make the hard choices: to retreat and return, to give in or give up, or to persevere and face the risks of the unknown. Some of my friends have not come home, and their souls are swirling in the winds and falling gently back to earth in the snow.
