Trip Reports - Our climb of the Exum Ridge of the Grand Teton 8/4/99

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The Climb

Wednesday 8/4/99  The rain persisted through the night.  Our spirits sank. It was beginning to appear we had come this far only to miss our chance to climb. At one point, I glimpsed half a sky full of stars, but then a curtain of clouds rapidly drew across the moon. It was raining again as 2 AM approached, so we postponed our departure to 3 AM, then to 4 AM. We had about given up all hope when a pair of boots crunched up the trail next to us a little after 3AM. Inspired that someone else was willing to take the challenge, we jumped up and began dressing. We had to try. Who knows what the weather would be doing in a few hours? If we were going to have any chance, this was it.

Enlarge photo of Wayne

Using headlamps in the early morning darkness, we ascended the rugged trail  approaching the headwall and fixed rope atop the Moraine at about 4:30 AM. We pulled up the greasy rope, hand over hand on the wet, slick, rocks. Even in darkness, it was plain to see the sky was overcast. It was cold and breezy, but we had dressed well for the wind and pressed on. We crossed through the Lower Saddle camp area and upwards along the rib beneath the ridges, towers and spires that form the upper reaches of the Grand Teton. Slowly, we worked our way up and over, heaving breaths, trying to catch enough oxygen to keep up with the demands of what, for us flatlanders, were obviously high elevations. We located the two cairns, and turned off the Lower Saddle onto the Black Dike traverse. Slipping, stumbling, scurrying in darkness across the scree, boulder fields, and snow, we found the way pretty directly to the base of the ramp thanks to our scouting expedition the day before.

The rock was wet  but the ramp was a convenient first step to gain the "start" of the climb. I was first to get my gear on, and eager to get the climb started. We were on the rock by 6:00 AM, and quickly progressed up two full rope lengths in darkness. It was steepest down low with a cold dribbling waterfall to pass through, then eased and grew wider near the top. First light was breaking by the time we came around a corner to get the first good view of the first actual pitch on the route - the Chockstone Chimney. (The Exum Ridge was first climbed in it's entirety in 1936, and has seen many ascents since then as one of the classic lines on the Grand. Over time, notorious sections have acquired names. The Chockstone Chimney, Open Book, and the most challenging Black Face will be mentioned). Two parties of  climbers were ahead of us and we could hear the voices echoing eerily up above in the darkness. Dark bands of clouds framed each horizon in the dim morning light, but for now the valley was clear. It was time to go up. By consensus, I took the lead, Jan seconded and back-clipped, and Henry followed and cleaned on the second rope, an order and rhythm that we all grew comfortable with and maintained for the rest of the climb.

See large photo of Henry and Jan

I negotiated my way over the first block in the stone corridor, then behind the second, having to squeeze through a restriction so small I had to hang my pack below me on a sling to climb through it. I continued above, using what holds presented on the vertical walls, suspended sometimes by stemming between the two walls with my legs. Out and around the namesake large chockstone wedged near the top, and then onto the left face to a small ledge, where a nylon sling around a boulder marked the end of the first pitch. Jan, then Henry negotiated the slot, also awkwardly removing and donning their packs enroute, to  meet at the top of our first step towards the summit.

The next pitch wound up and to the left, disappearing around the corner, bringing us to the top of the third step on the ridge. We scoped out a potential escape ledge (one of the few on the route), and eyed the weather. Several parties could already be observed returning to basecamp far below, abandoning their hopes of climbing today. The sky remained overcast with dark clouds at both horizons, but the valley to the east was presently storm free. How long would it hold? There was no retreat above until we completed the most challenging sections and intersected the long Wall Street ramp, access to the start of the Upper Exum Ridge route. We climbed on.

See larger image of Henry

The pitch that followed went up a steep bit of rock to the right, then back to the left, winding up and around quite a distance to a section of  smoother yellow rock. I paused in my lead, thinking that it was a good time to stop and build an anchor, as I was literally nearing the end of my rope. Searching for the best place to tie off, I went left around a corner and found the base of a long chimney. The climbing looked easier higher up into the chimney, but getting started obviously was a problem. The lower chimney was very wide, smooth, and overhung - difficult climbing even without  packs on. In hindsight, I probably should have taken this cue and gone back to the smooth yellow rock. Instead, I gallantly decided to solve the chimney problem, using a tight squeeze up a narrow crack that angled up and to the left from the chimney's base. Once I scurried up this, it appeared I could climb out onto the rock face and grab a narrow edge with my hands to traverse the 30 feet or so back to the main chimney. I pressed my body into the slot, twisting enough that my backpack hung out over the edge pulling me downward, but I found holds on my right side to help me creep awkwardly upwards. I fought my way up the slot, finally reaching a stone wedged about 40 feet up, and reached for a sling to tie off to it. To my dismay, I only had two slings left. The route above would eat up a lot more than that, so I needed to receive more gear. I was stuck here for now.

The only way to progress was to bring Jan and Henry both up, while I remained cramped in the sloping ledge, and have them pass up more gear. I pulled up the slack rope and Jan soon came around the corner. I asked her to anchor at the base of the chimney and Henry joined her there a few minutes later. They passed up the gear they'd collected and I was then able to climb out of the uncomfortable slot onto the face above. I worked my way back towards the chimney, the holds getting smaller and farther between as he progressed. When the holds ran out about 5 feet from the wall of the chimney beyond (and many feet horizontally since my last protection), I lunged for it with a huge stem and fortunately found purchase on the far wall. "Now that was a move," I commented dryly, then continued upward. I emerged atop a  small pinnacle on a tiny triangular ledge, just below the famous Black Face - the route's crux (5.7) pitch - breathing hard but happy. Jan took her turn up the squeeze ramp, then waltzed back across the face with no apparent difficulty, scampered up the chimney and joined me atop the exposed ledge. I passed belay duties to Jan in hopes that I could get my body into the sun that was peeking through the clouds on the east side of the ledge. We'd had our backs to the sun during this pitch, but the packs blocked the warming rays, and the cold wind was chilling us all through.

See larger image of Wayne

"He fell" Jan said casually, as she and I observed the rope go tight. Henry had slipped on his way into the chimney, but was quickly back on track unharmed and made steady progress after that to meet up on the cozy stance. We exchanged high five's, congratulating each other on our progress. The belay stance was incredible. So far, we had mainly been in chimneys or facing the Lower Saddle on the route. But now we were perched at the very apex of the Exum Ridge, looking down 6000 feet unobstructed across the entire Jackson Hole valley! Talk about exposure.

During this time, we all had quietly noticed a storm cloud to the east in the distance over Jackson Hole, and now it was drifting ominously across the valley towards us. The warming rays of sunshine were short lived, and a few spits of rain hit us. Soon some very cold wind gusted, and we could see a dark curtain of moisture draped beneath the approaching squall. As I prepared to lead off, we were amazed to notice tiny pointed crystals of white collecting on our black wind pants. Snow! There was no time to stay exposed on this tiny ledge, so I took off up the Black Face with some urgency. First up 20 feet,  then traversing right and up another 30 to gain a crack. Following the crack up and to the left to the top corner of the face. Numerous rusted iron pitons, still solid after all these years, spoke of the ancient history of this classic route. It was the best climbing of the day and a sterling lead for me! Nearly vertical black rock, 6,000 feet of exposure and enjoyable climbing - the best pitch of the entire route. Unfortunately, it would soon be coupled with the worst weather of the entire route...

It was obvious now that the storm was headed directly toward us, and the sky grew darker with its approach. Wisps of cloud started streaming up from the canyons below and around Exum Ridge from the southwest. I needed to find some shelter! I continued upwards  following the crack to the end of the Black Face, then continued higher. We'd brought longer 60 m ropes and now I needed the extra length to explore the best options. Seeing nothing well suited, I  continued up onto the yellow rock above. Around the left corner of the face, I spied a small ledge with a lip that might offer at least a slight refuge from the worst. Seeing nothing else, I worked around the corner and sheltered myself from the weather by hanging below a small ledge. Not much protection, but better nonetheless than where Jan and Henry still huddled, with less than 20 feet of rope left...

Enlarge photo of Jan

Now a new problem arose. Going around the corner had caused so much rope friction, that I could barely pull up the 20 feet of slack. I pulled with all my might, but gained only inches at a time because of rope stretch and drag. Desperate to get my partners moving, I quickly rigged a hauling method to using my legs instead of my arms to do the work, but it was still arduous and slow. As I took up the slack between Jan and I, the clouds boiled up from below. Inch by inch I hauled in the rope, sweating, breathless, knowing that Jan would be frustrated at its slow advance. As Henry gently encouraged her (trying to keep the edge out of his voice and resisting looking over his shoulder at the building storm), Jan moved up slowly off the belay ledge and up out of sight. When her head poked around the upper corner she called out to me, "Where are you?" . I  identified his position hiding below the ledge off to the side and over a gap. "How'd you get there?" came next, and I replied, "I made a leap for it." With that, she worked her way over, finding some holds on the way. Bringing her up was exhausting and I was out of breath and dog tired. During her ascent, the clouds had risen up and enveloped all of us. Visibility dropped drastically. We were in a whiteout. Suddenly, the whiteness flashed brightly and a peal of thunder boomed, echoing off the surrounding peaks. Another followed quickly. Henry was literally a sitting duck.

Frantic calls of "Up rope!! Up rope, @@##**&!!" faintly drifted upward through the maelstrom. Unbeknownst to Henry, Jan and I had in fact been laboring away at that very task, inches at a time, as fast as we could go, sharing his obvious frustration. Little by little we worked the rope and Henry up through the storm, thunder booming, snow falling, wind gusting, the white mist charged with electricity. We all breathed easier when he came around the corner. "How'd you get there?" he called, and Jan explained her passage. Henry followed her directions, and joined us. We were all relieved at the reunion. At least there was no rain. Later, Jan confessed that she (in addition to I) had thoroughly enjoyed the pitch, including the unique opportunity to climb in a whiteout. Henry later confessed that he did not exactly enjoy the pitch, and in fact wasn't sure if he had even taken one breath between the time Jan had left him and when he topped out...

View bigger photo of storm clouds

Now, up and to our left was what seemed to be the last pitch of the Lower Exum Ridge, the V-pitch or Open Book pitch. The right facing corner should lead us upward to the end of the Wall Street ledge, the top of the more difficult  Lower Exum Ridge, and the start of the easier Upper Exum Ridge. The small  thunder cell passed, and the sky cleared a bit. I climbed up the corner, emerging at a place we all remembered from an Outdoor Channel video tape, the first pitch of the Upper Exum Ridge: the Golden Staircase. Jan followed, then Henry. It was 1:30 PM when we all met on Wall Street. we were elated. We had beaten the odds, survived the weather, and completed the most difficult portion of the Exum Ridge. Our next decision was not easy, but we opted for prudence, deciding that indeed, discretion was the better part of valor. We ended our climb on Wall Street. Though the easy portion remained above, we felt the weather was too unstable and the hour too late to further risk the exposure. We would retreat down Wall Street. We were all disappointed that we would not see the summit. To have come so far and be so close (another 1200 feet to the top). But it was the right thing to do this day.

The Descent

Enlarge image of Lower Saddle

We don't know why we thought getting down would be easy. Just zip down Wall Street and hike out, right? No problem. Were we wrong. Just getting onto Wall Street was one of the most unsettling moves all day. At it's base, the ramp is 40 feet wide, but it narrows as it climbs hundreds of feet up Exum Ridge until it is only inches wide near the top. It virtually disappears just shy of the large ledge which we were on. For those coming up the ramp, it's an airy move up and around the bulging corner, with a single sloping handhold providing security. Going down, the handhold is more tenuous, and we were not very comfortable with the awkwardness. But once on the ramp, it rapidly grew  safer as we descended. We untied from our ropes, took a welcome break, then stowed our ropes and gear.

View larger image of group

At the base of Wall Street, we turned down a steep, rocky path that led into the gully below. The guidebook described a retreat across the gully below, passing over the next ridge, then down again out onto the Lower Saddle. We considered that plan, but didn't see any obvious way to pass over the next ridge, so we descended the gully we were in quickly, following small bits of "trail" that seemed to go a few steps in every direction, but which never coalesced into a main course.  Careful steps were needed to prevent rock slides while scrambling down the scree.  As we got lower, it became apparent that we had missed the exit by a long way, too long to consider going back up. We figured from the occasional bootprints that others must have come down the way we were going, so there would either be a way out or a big pile of bones at the bottom...we continued down the enormous gully, searching for a way to cross the next ridge and get into the canyon beyond. We'd dropped several hundred feet before Jan spied a scramble up the ridge and scampered up it. There, on the crest, the other side fell away steeply for a hundred feet or more. But, revealingly, looped around a small but solid boulder was an old blue sling, abraded and faded by the sun. we then saw another white sling 100 feet below, around a large boulder. This proved to be our way out through a series of messy double-rope rappels that brought us onto the Black Dike again, quite near to where we had traversed that morning. We retraced our path out and down onto the Lower Saddle. There we spoke with several climbers at camp, most sitting out the weather that day. It turns out that with all three of the group dressed in red gear, we were easy to watch all day from the Lower Saddle. There were lots of questions asked about the route and weather, so we returned some of the beta we had asked others for the previous day. We then followed the trail down off the Saddle, thankfully making our last trip down the fixed rope. It was a downhill walk from there to camp.

Back in camp, Henry broke out three tiny bottles of scotch and we toasted  our accomplishment. But as he was retrieving the stash, he discovered a marmot-sized hole in Jan's tent. She was not happy. Then the true dimensions of the diabolical crime were revealed: the intruder had deposited a large brown roll right in the middle of Jan's sleeping bag! He didn't find food, but sure liked the facilities. Every one of the many marmots we saw looked suspect from then on. The sun came out for a little while and storm clouds rolled through during the evening, but the rain was light and we ate and relaxed.

Thursday 8/5/99  We enjoyed the night's rest and were up with the sun the next morning. Although the dawn had been red, the sky was blue and clear now. It was a beautiful day. If only yesterday had been like this...we ate the last of our favorite foods for breakfast and loaded all the gear back into our (still) big packs for the downhill haul. As we were leaving Garnet Canyon, the western sky grew suddenly black, thunder and lightning boomed fiercely overhead, and it sounded like quite a storm back up there. Maybe we had been lucky after all. We were all happy to be half way down the mountain and going lower quickly. It rained for a while, but the storm passed and we emerged dry at the cars. There was sage on the breeze and the sun blazed in the blue sky, as we doffed our packs and headed out. Several cold beers and numerous appropriate toasts occupied for us for a while at Dornan's, just outside the park gate, before we headed back for one last night at the Hatchett.

See bigger image of group celebration

While driving back to Salt Lake City the next morning to catch my plane, I heard that two rangers had been struck by lightning on the mountain while  Jan, Henry, and I were making our descent. Both would be fine, but it was definitely a sobering thought. We all learned a lot from this trip, made new friends and climbed a great route. Maybe we'll go back someday. We still wonder what the summit looks like...

Good Climbing!

Enlarge group photo

What, There's more???

A sidenote from Wayne - It seems Henry proposed to Jan during our ascent, and she accepted. The nuptuals are scheduled to take place in Jackson Hole next summer. It looks like we will return for another try!

    
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