Midday Dreaming: Climbing the Sharkstooth

The clouds above us enveloped the deep valley-like couloir that the three of us stood in. Surrounded by violent, steep walls and rock formations, with scree forming it’s floor, no wonder the area that we had ventured into was affectionately referred to as “the Gash.” I lifted my head slowly and rose my eyes to meet the clouds above and around us. I looked over to Matt quickly and got his attention, “I’m not sure how I feel about this one, chief.” He nodded and looked down and back at me, “yeah, this isn’t really looking too promising.” I could tell from his tone of voice that he really didn’t want to turn back either. We were almost finished with the approach to do an alpine climb on the violently-pointy, dominating monolith before us. It was named “The Sharkstooth.”

I turned around carefully on the rocks that I was balanced on among the talus around me and looked down the incline to Scott, who had opted to come with us that day as well. “How’re you hanging in there bruh?” I called down, making sure I was plenty loud enough for him to hear me. He took in a deep breath and shot a look at me. I could tell Scott was a little tired. We had been up since before three AM that morning. The clouds above us were continually becoming darker, and I could feel the moisture of a building thunderhead in the air. You really don’t want to be at altitude when something like this storm occurs. The three of us gathered, sat down, and watched the sky above for a short while before I stood up and turned to Matt, I don’t know if today is a good day for this.” He nodded slowly, “we better get this shit done next week then.” I silently agreed, and the three of us made our way carefully back down into the canyon below. We hiked past “The Loch” and made it back to our car at the trailhead before a light drizzle started. It would have to wait until next weekend.

The Saturday after, I awoke very early and quickly got dressed. It was later in August, and the high-country peaks were already getting a bit cold. I packed plenty of layers and put on enough that I wouldn’t feel the chill. Matt and I would be the only ones going out today, as Scott had work and this was the only day that we had a clear enough weather window to accomplish it. It would be quicker in a pair anyways. Matt and I are great partners in the backcountry. Our headlamps barely penetrated the darkness before us as the two of us made our way from the trailhead. We moved fast in the early morning light, getting to “the Gash” and above it at the base of the climb before the rock had even been warmed in the morning sun. Matt and I smiled at one another. Today was going to be fast. We joked and poked fun at one another as we each readied our individual gear and the rack-and-a-half that would get us to the summit. I flaked out the rope as Matt described to me the route up, “It’ll be cruiser, don’t you worry,” he smiled and I shook my head in agreement. Today, I would follow Matt to glory.

We had originally planned to take a (5.6 III) route called “Northeast Ridge” to the summit through one of the right-facing dihedrals that had sheared off from the main face. This would allow us a sort of smaller dihedral to follow up easily, while giving us just enough crack along the way to be able to jam our hand into, or stick a cam in for protection. From all of the descriptions we could find, it didn’t seem hard at all, and the climbing would be sustained and easy. Four pitches of fun. We later found out that we never really touched the originally intended route at all.

We ended up following a (5.7 III) line called “Bivouac Buttress” that went straight up a good fifty or more feet from where we had originally intended to start our climb. It was an honest mistake, as both dihedrals that we were supposed to look for looked pretty much the same, regardless, we climbed the damn thing and that’s all that matters. The first pitch was as straightforward as a first pitch should be. We went up about thirty-five to fortyish feet before hitting another ledge that would have caused a lot of rope drag, had we continued past it without setting up another anchor. Looking at the vertical distance of the entire climb itself, the whole thing is completely doable in three pitches with a seventy meter rope, we just ended up doing it in four for the sake of our sanity. I followed Matt to the second ledge, and we set up the next belay anchor. Both of us were still feeling good, having a great time doing it, and the sun was beginning to warm the chill off of our backs. We picked the perfect day for conditions to do this climb.

As we made our way to the third belay anchor and the top of the second pitch, I turned around for just a moment to take in the view of the massive and narrow gorge behind me. Below us, I could see the vast expanse of the boulderfield that one has to scramble over on the approach to the climb, and the still large “smaller” glaciers that sit above an even larger Andrews Glacier. It was enchanting and I knew that I had to have more. The exposure we were starting to face too was getting me real excited. Matt and I finished reorganizing the rack for the third pitch. I grinned at him and he threw me a wink. We were doing very well for a climb such as this and both of us knew it. Matt started off on the third pitch and I threw in another nut to add onto the cam and larger stopper that served as our belay anchor for this pitch. I watched him edge slowly up the short dihedral above us and go over the small edge that obstructed my vision from seeing where he was going for a majority of the rest of the pitch. I made care to give out just enough rope to not pull Matt backwards, but kept enough in that I could take quickly if he fell. You never plan on falling though.

Matt called back down that he had found a belay station for the fourth and last pitch and that he was setting up an anchor. I shook my hands gently and tightened my pack straps enough that the whole thing wouldn’t shift around on my back. Above, I heard the movement of rocks, and a few small pebbles fell around me. “ROCK!” Matt screamed at the top of his lungs, “HUGE FUCKING ROCK!” I tucked into the cliff at the front of me and pressed myself as hard as I could into the v-shaped small dihedral that went up next to the anchor I was attached to. Three feet to my left a small-child sized boulder collided with the grassy ledge that I was standing on. It bounced a few times, and then fell over the edge behind me. I called down below, “Rock!” just in case there were any parties following behind our route. Matt peeked over the ledge, “you good?” his face looked exasperated and concerned. I stepped backward from my hiding place, “yeah!” I waited for the call from Matt that the anchor was set up and the belay was on. I undid the lower anchor that I was clipped in to, allowed Matt to take the slack out of the rope, and began up the third pitch.

By the time that I had topped out on the third pitch, it hit me how truly high up we were. Granted, I had been this high up on climbs plenty of times before, but I had never done it this quick and as a partner-pair. So many times before had I done this under the watchful eye of a mentor, or a senior guide. Now I was in the position of “senior guide.” alongside Matt, this whole thing was our own climb. Matt was cradled next to a larger outcropping in the rock where he had set a hanging belay. The slanted ledge that both of us were standing on was just large enough to prop our feet on, but plenty small and at an angle that didn’t really allow for super-concrete footing. The multiple cams that we had placed for the anchor there were definitely needed. Again, the both of us quickly and efficiently evened out the rack (without dropping anything) and went to work getting ready for the last pitch. My mouth was dry and I could feel the back of my neck starting to get a bit sore. I was probably already sunburnt, but I pulled my hood up as best I could over my helmet anyways so I wouldn’t get burned any worse. We had been on the wall for more than a few hours at this point. This was our final push.

I looked up at Matt as he made his way over a few of the large flakes above us. We were both quiet except for the commands that would go back and forth when needed. A majority of the climb up until this point had been line-of-sight between us, but now Matt began to creep over the edge until I could only tell his movement by the playing-out of the rope and the small, yet resounding clinks of the various gear on his rack smacking together above. I took in a deep breath and checked the two cams holding me in right in front of me. As I gently lifted my weight halfway off of one of them, it began to slip. My mind exploded, and then as if I had willed it, instantly, it became silent. I relied upon my skills. I leaned to the left, placing all of my weight on the other cam that had not slipped at all. Gently I reached over and slowly pushed the slipping cam deeper into the crack that it had originally been placed into. Still placing most of my weight upon the cam that had supported me the entire time, I tested the one that I had pushed deeper. This time it would not slip. I leaned forward, whilst still giving more than enough attention to Matt on the belay the entire time, and balanced my weight across the two anchors. I realized that I had not taken in a breath for quite some time. I breathed deep, took a quick note of how I felt, pulled a sip off of my water bottle, and went back to giving my full attention to tending the rope slung off of my personal anchor in front of me. By this time Matt had gone a little over halfway through the rope, and I yelled to him to let him know. He leaned back and acknowledged me over the sound of the gentle wind around us. We were almost there. As I called up to him that we had about fifteen meters of rope left, Matt called back that he had topped out. All he had to do now is set an anchor and I could come up.

The second Matt had set the upper anchor, my hands started to shake. This would be the first major climb that either of us would have accomplished. I didn’t quite know what exactly I would do with myself once I got to the top. As I made my way halfway up the last pitch I couldn’t help but smile like and idiot. This was it. I topped out and Matt and I were beaming at each other. Looking back, I was smiling so hard that I thought I might even cry a little. It certainly wouldn’t muddle the moment. Both of us hugged one another and I turned to look out on the scree field below the gash with the summer remnants of Andrews glacier beyond. Matt turned to me and we both raised our fists, “Hell yeah!” I screamed as loud as my lungs could muster into the midday Rocky Mountain air. I looked back at Matt, “All these people said that we couldn’t, but we did.” I meant that too. I meant every word of it. So many people think things like this are for “others.” They think that they’ll only see things like this on TV and youtube. We just did it. At this point there’s nothing holding us back. All those daydreams and times when I thought I was JUST dreaming, it was all coming to fruition now. I might just keep on midday dreaming.