On Katahdin, the problems begin as soon as you leave the car.
After everything we’d already been through here, one of us was going to drown. I could still hardly believe it would happen on an ice-climbing trip.
Dan stood thigh-deep in a 30-foot-wide stream, our final portage on the way to Katahdin. The stream, not even shown on our map, surged in a flash flood that covered an eroding bridge of ice—our only way across. To our left, the foaming, brown-tinted water flowed off the ice bridge, down a rock step and into a dark pool.
Gripping the nose of a pack sled, with Dan holding its other end, I had nearly reached the far side when he suddenly halted and shouted, “I’m stuck!” Our friend Jeremy looked on from the bank behind him.
“Drop the sled!” I yelled. If either of us fell into the stream, we could be tangled in the sled or our skis, or pinned by the current. Dan released the sled. I surged forward to the bank and shoved the sled behind a spruce. Turning back, I saw Dan struggling to free his stuck ski. It detached and tumbled away in the loud, rushing water.
It was February, and for two days we’d labored up the mountain, feeling it would be worse to turn back and recross two other streams and a thawing lake. We were a little over a mile from the Chimney Pond cabin, our planned base camp.
Jeremy and I had been climbing partners for years, living in Massachusetts and climbing across New Hampshire, while I’d met Dan when I relocated to Washington, D.C., the previous summer. It was Jeremy’s third trip to Katahdin, and for Dan and me the first.
Denne historien er fra January 2017, #239-utgaven av Rock and Ice.
Start din 7-dagers gratis prøveperiode på Magzter GOLD for å få tilgang til tusenvis av utvalgte premiumhistorier og 9000+ magasiner og aviser.
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Denne historien er fra January 2017, #239-utgaven av Rock and Ice.
Start din 7-dagers gratis prøveperiode på Magzter GOLD for å få tilgang til tusenvis av utvalgte premiumhistorier og 9000+ magasiner og aviser.
Allerede abonnent? Logg på
Call of Duty
Vikki Weldon: Hard lines and the front line
THE BADGE
WE DEFINE OURSELVES AS CLIMBERS, BUT IS THAT GOOD ENOUGH?
THE ACHIEVER
MARICELA ROSALES HAD EVERYTHING AGAINST HER. SHE BECAME A CLIMBER ANYWAY.
Chris Sharma
FIRST ASCENTIONIST, FORMER WORLD CHAMPION, OWNS GYMS IN SPAIN AND USA. INTERVIEWED IN QUARANTINE IN BARCELONA WITH HIS WIFE, 3-YEAR-OLD DAUGHTER AND 1-YEAR-OLD SON.
PROJECT WAIT
A LIFELONG CLIMBER CONSIDERS THROWING IN THE TOWEL
Older, Wiser, Stronger!
YES, THEY CAN GO TOGETHER. HOW TO TRAIN STRENGTH AS YOU COME ALONG DOWN THE ROAD.
CALCULATED RISK
HOW UNDERSTANDING DANGER COULD KEEP YOU OUT OF HARM’S WAY
Accessories To Climb
Field tested
To The Grit
About 10 winters ago I touched down in Manchester in a hard, driving English rain. The city was hidden from view. I was groggy after a red-eye from Dallas, an over-brewed black tea barking on my dry tongue.
The Wild Ones
North Conway is a typical New Hampshire town tucked among rolling hardwood hills and set at the foot of imposing granite slabs, but 30 years ago it was the stage on which a small band of climbers led the way in boldness and vision.
