03/21/2019
Imagine if a polar vortex met a bomb cyclone over New York City and froze the Empire State building solid - you would have a 1,200 foot icicle in the heart of the big apple. Now imagine setting out to climb that frozen skyscraper…blindfolded. Climbing with Joseph Hobby, my blind friend Erik Weihenmayer and I took advantage of a big winter in the Northeast to have a crack at La Pomme d’Or. This is a mega classic ice climb that forms along the wall of the 2,000 foot deep gorge of the Haute Gorge National Park in Quebec Canada. Having our plans foiled twice before this was surely the season to get it done as the ice was thick and solid. What makes this climb unique to us as Colorado climbers is that it forms at such a low elevation and has a distinct golden color given by a combination of minerals and plant tannins in the runoff. The maple syrup colored ice has a particularly dense feel and a lower freezing point which gives it a very plastic like feel even in the colder Canadian temperatures. Arriving at the modest Auberge Le Relais des Haute Gorges hungry after a long day of travel, we were welcomed as the “two guys with the one guy” giving us lots of laughs over the days to come. Being the last building before the vastness of the national park we had low expectations of the food choices out here and joked that we’d be eating fried muskrat and pine-cone chips. But were amazed when the menu offered a delicious six course meal.
The next morning we made the drive into the park followed by a two and a half mile hike in subzero temperatures. This day gave us a chance to scope out the stunning route and cache our gear. It also served as a test for me having just received seven staples in my head along with a bruised if not broken coccyx from an accident while exercising at home. Thankfully the long walk, heavy pack, and helmet did not aggravate the injury and I would be good to go.
3:00 a.m. came way to soon and the temps way too low (for our liking) but what can you do but add a layer and get moving. So with our pockets full of snacks we headed up the trail headlamps blazing.
A large moose, perhaps the gatekeeper of the park let us by and soon we had recovered our cached gear. With the sun yet to rise our toes were freezing and we still had a long day ahead of us. We opted to start a fire in the small wood stove of a park refuge to dry out socks and warm toes. This took time but it allowed us to safely proceed to the climb, a setback of over an hour that would play out critically later.
A machette’ would have been nice for the overgrown approach but thanks to the snow covering the large boulder field we were soon up the two hundred foot first pitch - only five more to go. Joseph did a good job of picking his way through the mixed blocks of rock in the next section getting us to a series of ginger ale colored steps that finished the second two hundred feet. This was the crux of the day since it didn’t allow Erik to swing and kick in a straightforward manner at the ice rather scratch, skate and claw at a mix of rock, mud, snow, ice and a few frozen branches with crampons and gloved hands. The vertical hard ice levels the playing field for a blind climber as he can better predict what each strike of the tool and each kick of the crampon will find. Hopefully they won’t find the ropes! That is my job. Climb above Erik, make noise and give directions as to where he should go and let him know when he is dangerously close to hitting the rope. I of course have to be extra careful to not fall and stick a crampon in his face or to dislodge ice onto him as he climbs. It adds a bit of stress for both of us and forces me to climb in a less natural manner.
The next pitches were dead vertical and were akin to climbing the side of a mug of an overflowing root beer float - cold, frothy, golden brown just not as sweet. Hours had gone by and with just one section left darkness caught us. Being unfamiliar with the route and due to the remoteness of it we decided to call it and rappel down. Leading in the dark after an exhausting day was not something any of us felt up to even though Erik was well suited for that. Holes drilled in the ice, rope fed through, headlamps on, we began the job of making multiple 200 foot rappels down the appearingly whiskey soaked ice. The break earlier in the day had perhaps cost us the tip top of the climb, but I think it did save our toes. The ice will melt away, but it will be back and perhaps so will we.
