Night Ops

This last segment of life was fast paced in a fun and exciting way. It involved a bit of travel, a lot of adrenaline, and most importantly time with family and friends before Denali. 

I started in California. Priority #1 was to celebrate the life of a lost friend. His parents created a beautiful event that let us close to him not only mourn together but also reunite. Several of us hadn’t seen one another since 8th grade graduation. But, after 9 years together in school, our bond is still surprisingly strong. It was amazing to see each of us followed our own path and found a happy and successful life.

Our reunion of sorts was under a sad umbrella, however. We’ll miss you Ross. You were a strong, energetic core to our brotherhood. Hearing stories from your high school and college friends showed that you no doubt kept that legacy going after Town School. What you accomplished in 26 years is astonishing and an inspiration to the rest of us. You’ll be with us every time we hang out and inspire us to chase life like you did. 

Remember - tell your friends you love them. Then tell them again. 

The next day was Mother’s day. Does your Mother’s day usually involve looking for rattlesnakes? My mom is so rad. During my high school years, whether before my Search and Rescue meetings or on a free weekend, she and I would hike together in Marin County. We found a particular spot with a high rattlesnake concentration. It soon became one of our favorites.

For Mother’s day this year she chose to revisit this area with my dad, brother, his girlfriend, and me. Weather wasn’t optimal but to our great surprise we found a beautiful juvenile rattler. It was such a cool, special day all around. Thanks Mom! I love you. 

Next up Yosemite. As I’ve said countless times before, we are at the mercy of the weather. This trip was no different. In fact I changed my flights home three times in order to carve out a weather window.

The goal - climb Half Dome’s face with Ian. In a day.  Specifically the regular NW face. 23 pitches and 2000+ feet of granite. A combination of both free and aid climbing. A wall I’ve looked at so many times and dreamt of climbing. A wall that would require almost every niche climbing skill Ian and I have gathered over the years. 

First Wednesday. Then Thursday. Shoot, it might not be possible at all. Wait look, weather is improving. Snow and rain moved into the Valley early in the week. The forecast changed daily. Fortunately it changed slightly for the better and we saw our chance.

Ian and I bombed to the Valley Wednesday morning. We hiked nine miles to the base of the wall and set up our bivy site under a setting sun. Snow fell as we hiked in. Two base jumpers launched off the summit at last light. The trip was coming together and excitement was high. We set pre-dawn alarms and fell asleep. 

The next day will go down as my longest and hardest but also most magical and memorable day of climbing yet. 

Highlights:

Climbing seemingly endless vert of pure Yosemite granite cracks. That yes, Ian, I agree will always be better than Wyoming rock.

Moving so efficiently and fast with the best climbing partner I could ask for.

Ian’s magical cam-toss that saved the day on the aid pitches altered by rockfall.

Ripping loose a nut on a pendulum leading to an unexpected whip. 

Climbing “Thank-God Ledge” as the sun crested the horizon and night fell.

The highs and lows - wow I’ve never been through such an emotional rollercoaster in one climbing day. 

Climbing the final four pitches in a headlamp and summiting Half Dome under stars and a large moon. 

Above all, spending one of the most rad days I’ve had outside alongside my brother. 

Here’s a cool side by side shot my mom made. She grabbed screenshots from the Valley’s webcam on the day we climbed. The images are the same frame but taken at separate times. The night one caught our headlamps near the summit

A blitz trip. We crawled back into our sleeping bags around 1am. 5am alarms got us down the “death slabs”, back to the car, back to SF, and to the airport just in time for me to fly home. 

Leave Jackson for a week and don’t be surprised if the seasons have switched. When I left it felt like winter but I rolled straight back to spring. And get excited because spring is killer. Actually let’s be honest each season is dope. But spring is special for the diversity of recreation available.

Like the middle of a venn diagram, spring offers an overlapping of passions. It’s not hard to stay high to ski, chill low to mountain bike, or hang at mid elevations to bear hunt. You could even do all that in one day! Then when tired, go on a local hike near town and pick up antlers and morel mushrooms. So that’s basically what my friends and I did. We loaded cars with a weird assortment of gear and chased it all. 

Along with recreational diversity, this week also saw weird diversity in sleeping locations. I wanted to share a hilarious three-day list of where I slept because it demonstrates how fast paced life has been. Ian and I got down from Half Dome around 1am and slept in our bivy sites from the night before - an oval area of granite surrounded by cleared rocks similar to a fire ring. Listen to the rockfall at night and pray none hit your exposed, oval corral. Statistically they shouldn’t right? A beautiful spot to share a beer or watch sunrise over the Valley floor. We woke four hours later, hiked out, and I began my trek back to Wyoming. 

With the Jackson airport closed this involved an overnight bus ride from Salt Lake. The bus dropped me off at 3am in Idaho Falls and another would grab me at 6am to get to Jackson. The Sinclair gas station they left us at had a waiting room the size of a cubicle. The 12 other passengers crammed in to escape the cold and sleep standing up. Screw that. I threw on every layer I had and laid on the concrete outside the gas station.

Then I remembered I had a sleeping bag! Hell ya. What about a sleeping pad? Well, Sam’s suit I borrowed for Ross’ event is multi-use right? The suit and suit bag doubled as a sleeping pad. I fell fast asleep for three hours listening to the gas pump TV ads on repeat. I woke to a dad staring at me who was dropping off his daughter for the bus. His face of confusion was warranted as I woke looking homeless yet sleeping on a nice suit bag. I might say it was a low point in my life, or at least the most trashy I’ve ever felt. But I also felt rested with three solid hours that the zombie-like passengers who stayed inside clearly didn’t get.

Back in Jackson two hours later I loaded the car with bear hunting gear hit the hills. No bears found but I enjoyed a beautiful sleep under my tarp shelter surrounded by a dense Wyoming forest, howling coyotes, and stars. From Yosemite, to an Idaho gas station, to the Wyoming woods - it was a unique three day stretch. 

This stretch of adventures involved multiple headlamp batteries and a nocturnal lifestyle. Why am I so pale? Sure, my Irish descent largely contributes. But also I am basically nocturnal. Not that I always prefer to be - in fact I love sleeping. But for outdoor pursuits night missions can be necessary.

We climb at night in summer to avoid afternoon thunderstorms. We ski at night in spring to avoid wet-slab avalanches. We hike in the dark when hunting to be in optimal zones at dawn and dusk. Plus, honestly, it’s just more fun. Fewer people are on the trails, the temperatures are more pleasant, and you move quicker under the glow of your headlamp without a daunting route visible in front of you.

I really only buy batteries for my avalanche beacon and headlamps. I have three black diamond headlamps yet feel like I am replacing batteries weekly. I fear ever seeing my annual expenditure on AAAs. 

The headlamp Yosemite climbing was somewhat unplanned. Yet back in Jackson night ops continued expectedly. I bear hunted for a couple days - glassing melted hillsides until absolute last light and hiking several miles to camp in the dark afterwards. Late season snow left my prime spots void of bears. I had to move and try new areas. I saw only one bear and it was a brief encounter at 50 yards in the dark timber. I may be waiting until fall to fill the freezer now.   

Would I argue May is the best month to ski? No, but it is the best for ski mountaineering. We generally view the big peaks as “off-limits” during the nuking snow of winter. Avalanche danger is simply too high.

We can squeeze in a couple during brief high pressure systems but by April and May we are itching for more.

One problem - more avalanches. But this time the worry is not generally the deep, persistent slab kind. It’s the wet-loose avalanches that occur as day-time temps increase. What’s the move? Night ops. 

This week Tanner, Copeland, and I skied the Grand Teton. We left town at 7pm. I pounded melatonin in an attempt to bank sleep in my car during the day. Two hours later I woke in a sweaty mess from the daytime temps hot boxing my car. Oh well.

The Grand treated us to both a sunset and a sunrise, headlamp ice climbing, solitude on the summit, and a hilarious lost and found ski that tumbled 400ft down the couloirs. A perfect cap to a Jackson spring and a wave goodbye to Wyoming.

It’s Alaska time. My top priorities lately have been seeing all the homies before Tanner and I leave as well as prepare gear. I can’t thank our friends enough for helping us pack, offering us a last night sleep on the couch, joining us for beers, and all around giving us a great send-off. Love you guys.

This will be our biggest expedition yet and the planning and preparation has been immense. For those interested, below are photos of nearly all my gear and food for 21 days. Not depicted are the hours of logistical planning with transportation in Anchorage, flights onto the glacier, and additional practice of crevasse rescue and whatnot.

We are on the plane to Anchorage as I write this. The dream is finally not just an idea. It feels real now. Tonight we’ll meet up with Tim and the “Teton Ticklers” will officially be ready to tackle (tickle?) the Big Mac.

Photos and stories to come but I can’t say when. We don’t have return flights yet. Honestly not sure how long this will take. Because, again, we are at the mercy of the weather. We may have to sit inside our tents for a week waiting for a weather window. So be it.

But speaking of night ops - not a chance. It’s summer in Alaska. Headlamps aren’t generally on peoples’ gear lists this time of year. This could be a 21 day mission with the sun never setting. No nocturnal options here. Crap I’m going to sunburn so hard.