Lessons Earned

Adam and Jason rack up at the bottom of "Hangover" - Hyalite Canyon

The Bozeman Ice Festival was last weekend.  The festival – like its counterparts in Ouray, Cody, Valdez, et al – is organized to celebrate the local ice climbing culture, bring climbers together, and introduce new people to the sport.  On the schedule for the weekend were two competitions (a pro invitational on Thursday and an open on Saturday), several clinics, slideshows, movie premieres, gear expos, and, of course, beer specials.

On Thursday, the day of the pro comp, I drove into the canyon with Jason and his friend, Adam, to get in a few pitches before the weekend rush.  The recent frigid temps left the ice hard and dry, and we wore ourselves out on four- and five-swing pick placements on brittle flows.  The tough ice conditions and near-zero temperatures chased us after just a few hours, and we were hiking out with plenty of time to clean up and change for the movie later that night.

When we got back to the parking lot, though, we were met with a troubling scene.  Several somber-looking climbers were milling about, surrounded by trucks and snowmobiles emblazoned with the Gallatin Search and Rescue crest.  We didn’t want to ask any questions, but we knew there were only a few reasons the S&R crew might be around.  Best case scenario, they just wanted to be a presence at the festival because of the substantial increase in climbing population for the weekend.  Worst case is pretty much what happened.

Jason sizes up the crux pillar on "Cave Route" - Hyalite Canyon

I called Michelle when I regained cell service outside the canyon and was greeted with a voice much more frantic than usual.  She had read on the Bozeman news site that a climber had been killed in an avalanche that day.  I reassured her that it wasn’t me and relayed what we had seen in the parking lot.  I told her I didn’t know much more than that and asked if the article mentioned the name of the climber.  “Guy Lacelle,” she said.  “Apparently he was pretty famous.”

Guy Lacelle is on the short list of the greatest ice climbers in the world.  At 54, he had probably climbed more meters of ice than anyone, ever, and he is well known for soloing (climbing alone and unroped) some of the hardest ice lines ever completed.  As the headliner of the festival, he was scheduled to speak later that night following the premiere of a new climbing film in which he figured prominently.  Guy was climbing in the pro event when he died just after 9:30 in the morning on Thursday, December 10.

It’s a generally accepted truth among climbers that if you get after it long enough and hard enough, you’ll eventually have to deal with death of a close friend.  Thankfully, I’ve avoided any really personal hits so far, but there have been some close calls.  Even still, it’s not easy saying goodbye to the stars you admire from afar, and Guy’s death caps what has already been a rough year.

A close call... - Chugach National Forest, Alaska '04

When your friends and partners begin to push themselves toward higher and more committing objectives, it just becomes a race against time and luck, and when you reach the elite heights that Guy occupied, every project on every trip will test the limits of possibility.  As the home of the legendary Alex Lowe, Bozeman is all-too-well-acquainted with the dangers endemic to the elite climbing world.  All it takes is a quick glance into the guidebooks here to recognize how deeply his influence is still felt, even as this year marks the tenth anniversary of his tragic final climb on Tibet’s Shishapangma.

As you can imagine, the Ice Festival turned into a commemoration of Guy’s life.  Michelle and I went to the theater on Friday night and listened to story after story of Guy as a climber, friend, husband, and hero.

I am always impressed with the way the climbing community responds to tragedies like this one.  It is often said that climbing is a lifestyle, not a sport.  Certainly, it is not unique in this regard; I know many surfers, skiers, and endurance athletes who would say the same about their respective passions.  I find the “lifestyle” label to be especially accurate in these cases largely because of the responsibility each group accepts to address danger objectively and honestly.  Whether it’s a climber leaving the ground with a full rack of ice screws; a backcountry skier descending with shovel, probe, and beacon; or an ultra-runner packing gels and electrolyte tablets, each athlete is displaying a commitment to safety that begins with an honest study of accidents that have already taken place and equipment that could have prevented them.  This attention to detail and honest assessment of hazards and consequences is not something that disappears when one is not actively engaged in a sport; rather, it’s a skill-set that, once cultivated, becomes the modus operandi for life in general.  I am grateful for this.

Back to the sharp end on Monday. That's the warrior's way...

It’s hard to make sense of tragedies like Guy’s death, and these events definitely spark an “is it really worth it?” internal dilemma.  I’m not sure I’m capable of such words as will properly honor Guy, but it seemed disingenuous to ignore his death when it has so thoroughly impacted my experience here.

If I’m certain of any one thing, it’s that I’m not going to stop climbing; that’s a powerful place to start.

So, get out there, everyone.  Have fun.  Go hard and go light.  Set your sights on grand goals and commit.  Just be smart and, above all, be safe.