Already there has been snow deep enough to lick down boot tops ice not the fragile new variety but older if not downright ancient. Summer n
ow heated memory today finally a rest one hot tub lager then hours sunbathing nude. Amid tsunami of yellow autumn light I tune crampons long-dull from winter's bout with the Super Couloir. To me it had occurred perhaps that was my last climb a good note to finish on. But I had amid summer wanderings with fly-rod in hand seen great snowfields melted back to a sickening angle. Ages ago I had trained on the crazy tilting seracs of the Glace du Bosson up out and over stacked ships of ice though now the climate has shifted the fleet has sailed never to return even in our childrens' childrens' lifetime. Record winter snows replete with near cyclonic winds had left these drifts to morph into giddy icy walls some with most improbable angles. I had poked around a bit gotten my tools wet yet had spied Le Serac Grande listing well at the back of a cirque. By the time I got to it the sun had been at it a suicidal drop into a tarn one possible outcome... A big storm hit that Saturday by Sunday blue sky beckoned luridly up Scout and I went booting through quite a bit of the fresh cold stuff above us on a whale's back of old glacier snow a crew of keen skiers made turns in what drifting snow had not blown off towards Nebraska. I knew the way what to expect had bolted fresh Chinese front-points into my Ice Dragons wrapped F2 grips in new rubber tape on tip-toe so I stuck the mass of ice cranked-up kicked-in headed off on a rising inclination route landing big shots into gelato tinged scarlet with weird alpine algae. About half the screws were okay the rest were just for show the wall had a jolly angle down low then a fat-man's bulge before it became merely steep. I bumbled a draw into the drink but pummeled on nonetheless a cold night had set the neve' up beautifully ever stick like the last one I would ever make. I rigged the top-rope for Scout but he wasn't feeling it so I ran the draws again my nipples hardening with every clip. Then it was make a ski-pole snare for the fumbled draw lower down to but not into the drink finally slurped that sparkly toy out of the dark water pulled the rope packed for home. On the somber walk back I had wanted more a mist stealing upon us we had lost the trail early in the morning so I didn't want any after-hours stumbling about though I had learned one lesson from le Super and that was don't leave your head-torch in the car to save weight. More laps more steep more jingus clips more adrenalin of which I am so I am told (reliably so) a confirmed addict. Scout wanted to swing at one of the ice fields on the trail down but I had had enough my packing job was a tight one so disemboweling the sac stepping back into cold Ice Dragons held little appeal. In the preceding weeks I had seen mule deer elk pronghorn antelope even three magnificent bighorn rams grazing behind a barbwire fence. Knowing sheep I had strolled right up to them mindful of the cactus that paved the ground in my battered sandals. One of the larger two rams was gamboling about expressing his rather imposing penis in anticipation of all that ewe pussy he was going to get if some methamphetamine-crazed trucker didn't smack his ass dead when he attempted to re-negotiate the highway. I know exactly how he felt...Postscript: I went back up two weeks later to re-try this line, snow had fallen in the interim but we were late that day waiting for a team member who never showed. Despite the cold the ice had softened in the sun somewhat, some of the screw placements were mushy leaving me to hunt for veins of denser ice, much hanging around led to a sufficiently fortifying pump. Certainly I was glad to strike out past the pair of marginal screws making an impassioned dash for the top. I cleaned on top-rope foregoing another lap, one should always recognize when one has thoroughly gotten away with something.
Recently a big storm plastered the range, that one is for the time being on the books...
Photos: Top, RCC on French Effect, image by Ryan Bogus. Bottom, Autumn Bighorn Ram, image by RCC.
