A rather bad summer for big-name climbers, Tom Kelley phoned us Monday to say Craig Luebben had been killed attempting the Torment-Forbidden traverse in the North Cascades, I have climbed extensively in the NCs but not this one, more of a mountaineering outing, but I will say that a heat wave was afoot in the Pacific Northwest at the time so it does not surprise me that the glaciers there are rather unstable, likely a factor in the demise of Johnny Copp and Micah Dash in China as well. John bachar has also died in a solo climbing accident, what can you say? Bachar was the Master until Michael Reardon came along, the new Sensei, there was also Derek Hersey here in CO, Jimmy Jewel in the UK. They are all of course now deceased which leads into the question of how safe is solo rock-climbing the answer being not very, in fairness Michael reardon was caught by a rogue wave, a not unexpected vent in the North Atlantic particularly given the yachting race being held off the coast at the time was a shambles due to the immense seas. Bachar had been injured some year back in an auto accident, was getting older and honestly I am here to tell you that as you age you slow down, he was either going to retire or get killed.
I used to do a great deal of solo climbing something I almost never do now. There is still some high-ball bouldering and the odd mixed route that I know well but always I do these routes with friends there in the context of a day of roped climbing. Last winter I was in Chamonix so I climbed Serac Gulley on the Triangle, a 185 meter ice route that is normally straight forward only the route had nearly sublimated away entirely so was really pieces of an ice route with eerie sections of dry-tooling to put the bits together, fun but that was enough of that for a while particularly when I was climbing leash-less without tethers (or a rope) and half the ice fell off the crux vertical section while I was climbing it.
Years ago inspired by the antics of Peter Croft I did a solo enchainment of rock routes in Eldorado Canyon, I started with Bastille Crack (5.7), the did Werksup (5.9), then climbed AntHill Direct (5.9+) then finished on Wind Arete (with the 5.8 variant), all with a thunder-shower in the middle and done by 1PM. I wore my old Boreal Aces and didn't take a rope, of course I am known as an ice-climber but yes, I used to rock climb too. I met Luebben about that time in 1992-3, he was still mooning over Liz Grenard at the time, smoked a good deal of pot and climbed frantically. I went out climbing with him a few times but I don't think we could bear one another so I then went to seeing him around now and again. I tried to get him out ice-climbing at one point but he deferred, something about Derek Hersey's girlfriend being in town.
I read his blurb on total climbing today to see he had "retired" and was mostly interested in skiing now, he has/had a four-year old daughter who looks very, very cute. Next week I am taking my little girl up Montana State University so she can start college, sad but sadder in the light of knowing Craig will now miss all of his upcoming family life and they will miss him sorely.
To be blunt, climbing is pretty fucking stupid, trying to climb as a living totally insane. I would stop but "retiring" looks to be even more hazardous so I may have to trust in Allah, an alert belayer and a sturdy helmet. Maybe it's just me but in recent years the bodies have really been piling up, Sue Nott, Harry Berger both folks I have been in the Ouray competition with and then these recent deaths. Last month I just out-of-the-blue ceased being able to climb Cat Eye at Rotary Park a problem I had done weekly over the past 15 years or so, frustrated I phoned Susanne on my global.
"It's John Bachar", she said, "He's gotten into your head."
By that she meant the demise of the Master imposed a new mortality on us all if he could fall and be killed we were all vulnerable. Heavy rains had left a coat of fine sand on the Cat Eye exit, one day I went up there five times while some top-ropers sat stock-still in silent audience, I finally pulled the plug and went home.
Autumn is coming, the air is cooling, snow is a month or two away. I train for one more season, already look for a partner for the Bozeman Ice Festival open, a thinly guised excuse to motor up to Booze-mon in my Mini Cooper, see my little girl, and eat a good Buffalo Steak at Fascist Ted's.
Oh, and send a bunch of ice and mixed routes. No way am I retiring, too dangerous...
