Salmon River Falls, NY, March 17-18, 2015

March is a strange time of year. I'm usually sad to see winter go. After this winter's prolonged cold spring can't come fast enough. Still, I have a hard time saying goodbye to winter. I've already told more than one friend that I was done ice climbing. I want to mountain bike, run and rock climb, and feel the warmth of the sun on my face as it climbs higher through the sky each spring day.

After my trip to Newfoundland this year I wanted nothing more to do with the cold. I'd been wearing double boots all winter, and on that particular trip I wore a puffy jacket nearly all the time, except during hard leads. I pretty much wrote off ice climbing after visiting the Black Chasm last week. We found unexceptional conditions and a lot of delaminated ice. However, after seeing a few of Adam and Dirk Endres' photos of Salmon River from this past weekend on NEice, I decided I wasn't done yet.

Looking toward the left end of the amphitheater - a cool spot

I emailed Chris Beauchamp, a regular partner of mine about it on Monday morning. He was sitting at his computer and his response was instant - we should go to Salmon River and climb. We'd been talking about going for some time, and this was the perfect opportunity. After ditching a car in Westfield, MA Tuesday morning we were on our way. Four hours of coffee and road food (junk) fueled our bee-line across the bowels of central New York.

By 2 pm we were climbing, and despite warmer conditions we found quite a bit of good ice. My initial disappointment about the warm ice was soon forgotten as we stemmed, picked and slugged our way up beautiful steep pillars in this very unique amphitheater.

Chris, leading a route at the right end of the main amphitheater

The following morning we returned and climbed 3 more pitches before driving home. A cold night had firmed up the ice, and climbing harder routes with more challenging technical top-outs in the utterly horrible shale felt more doable. For me, the highlight was leading Salmonella - one of the harder pitches that actually felt safe this late in the season.

Chris, starting the left hand variation to Mate, Spawn or Die

I am glad I was finally able to visit this spot. It opened just as I was finishing my studies at St. Lawrence University in 2001 and I never went there. How I wish it had been open when I was a student there. I would have been a frequent visitor. I am looking forward to going back next season when the harder routes are in better shape.

Why You Should Be Careful Ice Climbing After Rain and Warm Temperatures

I went to Poke O Moonshine on Wednesday with Silas Rossi. He'd never been there before, for rock climbing or ice climbing. We figured that we'd get at least a little climbing in despite the less than stellar forecast. As is often the case, the weather forecasters were a bit off, and it rained all night. Instead of snow there was rain, and when we arrived the cliff was running with water. Positive Thinking and the Waterfall wall, which were both in nice early season condition the day before, were decidedly "out". We checked out Neurosis, which was also on it's way "out" but is less steep, so the prospect of it falling off in one piece is much lower.

After bailing from a bolt near the top of the first pitch of Neurosis we returned to our car. While we were over at Neurosis a portion of the Waterfall wall fell off. It was easy to see the missing piece of ice.

Can you see the missing ice? Can you see the continuous fracture snaking it's way across the top? How about the two climbers at the base?

We spotted a party of two toproping the Waterfall, left of where the ice had calved off. We were amazed they were still climbing, as another substantial portion fell off while we were changing into our street clothes. As one of the climbers rappelled, we spotted a continuous fracture in the ice along the top of the Waterfall wall. We stared a bit longer then jumped in the car, heading to the Baxter Mountain Tavern for a late lunch. Just as we were leaving we spotted the party toproping the ice only feet left of the wall that had just fallen. I hope those climbers are ok.

Well, what's the takeaway? Is it that those particular climbers were foolish to be there? Maybe; I know I would not have been there. Is it that all ice climbing is unsafe when the weather is above freezing? That answer is not so simple. Most likely the right answer is going to be based on the specific weather conditions for that day. Like traveling through avalanche terrain when the risk of a slide is not uniformly "low", making decisions about safe ice climbing conditions takes good judgment. Good judgment comes from experience - you have to understand how ice behaves throughout a range of weather conditions if you're going to push your luck.

I felt like I was pushing my luck getting on Neurosis, a climb I've done before that is 2-3 ice grades below my lead limit. I think Silas did too, but we felt pressure to make the day happen because we'd driven a long way. Fortunately, both of us have a lot of winter climbing experience, and understand how ice behaves. Slab ice occasionally collapses. Often it just sits there though, getting compressed toward the ground until it gets so warm that the slab can no longer support itself. Steep ice, especially at places like the Waterfall, where the rock is free of features, supports itself. You cannot climb ice that supports itself in above-freezing weather for very long; this is asking for trouble.

The truth is, we've all been there. We ignore the forecast because it's our day off, or our client's day off if we're a guide. We drive a long way to climb, so we feel pressured to climb even though conditions are not optimal. Maybe we push the day longer than we should after it's been really warm (2 o'clock has always felt like the magic quitting time on warm days). It's never one thing that causes an accident, and myopia is often to blame.

As I've gained experience this decision has gotten easier. Most days, when conditions are like this I throw in the towel. I'll end up drinking coffee or beer somewhere with my climbing partner. Climbing always has and always will be a social activity for me, and the partner is more important than the climb. I've rescheduled guided days, only to watch my client go out with another guide and get hit by ice and take an axe to the face.

I know it's hard to throw in the towel on warm days, but erring on the conservative side is the right thing to do. You only get one chance to screw up that big, and nobody wants that to happen.

On Borrowed Time at Moss Cliff

Life has a funny way of creeping up on you. All through my twenties I traveled a lot. I moved to a new place every year or so, making sure to explore climbing opportunities in each spot. My thirties rolled in and I became a bit more serious about work. I participated in more professional development and cultivated a few professional relationships as a guide that provided cool opportunities.

Now, nearing 35, I'm no longer willing to accept the uncertainties that a career of guiding provides. There are a few "knowns" and many "unknowns" about this particular career path. I'm going to try and outline many of these details in a future post, so that younger guides, or people interested in the trade can have a pragmatic perspective when they enter the world of "professional" guiding.

Suffice to say, I no longer want a life with so many unknowns. I want health insurance, and some extra savings to pay for life's medical "unknowns." A visit with a dentist would be nice too. Retirement savings, I want that too. Hell, I'd like to be able to give more of my earnings to people and organizations who need it more than me.

All of those things can be pretty hard to come by when you work in the guiding industry. Basically you either travel a lot as an independent guide (and hope your relationships at home remain strong) or you try to own your own business and make money off of other guides that work for you. Either way it's a struggle to make ends meet. I'm not really into either of those things, so it's time to look elsewhere for work.

At the moment I'm exploring other career options. Obviously, I'll continue to guide - I am a climbing guide and have been one for the last ten years. As time passes I'll likely be more selective about the guiding and instruction I choose to take on.

While feelings of insecurity have partly spurred this decision, climbing has helped me make the choice also. The days, weekends, and trips I've been able to sneak in with my favorite climbing partners have illuminated my unwavering love for climbing. These intense personal experiences continue to shape and direct my life. Climbing has been the most positive shaping force in my adult life, and I don't want my struggle making ends meet (as a guide it has been constant) to soil my love for climbing.

This week I had one of those days that helped remind me why I love climbing. After 17 years as a climber I finally visited Moss Cliff with a friend Donald, from Ohio who was in the area for a wedding. We enjoyed one of the finest days of Fall climbing I can remember. Moss Cliff, for those who haven't visited, has some of the most beautiful crack climbing in the Adirondacks. The rock there is very high quality, and seems better than the anorthosite at many other High Peaks Crags.

The day was full of stuffer cracks, rebel yells, smiles, and a few muscle cramps by the end of the day. This is what it's all about. Here are a few photos from the day:

The Google+ album can be viewed here:

https://plus.google.com/u/0/photos/102795127298376798453/albums/5933472476564380865?authkey=CJH4qqaYmMva5gE