Staff Snow Training

Well, I can't say that I was the first to sign up for the staff snow training this year. In fact, I was the last. Undecided as usual until the last minute. Even as we loaded into the van that morning to leave, I wasn't sure if I was up for the challenge - not only of glacier travel but of being around people for 3 days straight. I was just feeling the need for some serious alone time...the snow travel I was actually kind of excited about.

After a 3 hour drive through Yosemite we arrived at Saddlbag Lake, scrounged together some cash for snacks, treats and bug repellent and headed out for the hour hike around the lake. It was a beautiful walk skirting Saddlebag and Greenstone Lakes, just past which we set up camp. After lunch we made our way to the nearby snow field to learn the basics of self arresting, self belaying, cramp-on and ice axe use and the different types of steps that are most effective in the snow and ice. We learned how to travel on rope temas and how to safely descend on foot, ass or rope. It was really fun and I was surprised how comfortable I felt - plunge stepping, sliding, turning over to stop myself with my axe, feet or knees, rapelling off the snow! French step - kicking little shelves for each step sideways into the mountainside; Italian - kicking toes straight into the snow, creating more of a staircase up. I felt ready for the challenge the next day held - ascending the glacier on Mt. Conness - some 50 degree angles, maybe steeper maybe icier. I was definitely nervous not knowing what to expect, but excited to get a chance to give it a try.

We woke the next morning in time to leave camp by about 7am. the hike took us up through some beautiful grassy creek beds and up past a cascading waterfall. As we rounded the corner above the waterfall, Conness appeared. The reality of what I was about to get myself into began to set in. The snow reached high towards the ridge that led to the summit and poured down to meet us at the rocky moraine. It was my first timetrying out cramp-ons. The distance we were about to traverse just to the base of the couloir (snow shoot) seemed infinite. I watched as Leslie, Joel and Graham disappeared in the distance to set up a fixed line for us to climb the snow more safely. This entails one of the climbing without anchors to set up the anchors along the way.

The traverse, downhill side on my right, was not too steep and it was fun to get a feel for how effective the crampons are. Their teeth bit into the hard snow hungrily with every step. It was amazing. But, I couldn't help but to replay over and over in my mind what I would do should I slip. A nice distraction was the immense beauty of the glacial lakes below, bright turquoise blue against the white snow...not to mention the other mountains that ame into view the higher and higher we got.

Once we reached teh base of this snow shoot, Leslie had already set up the first pitch (mabye 100 feet above us) just to the left of a bergschrund (the uppermost crevasse that is formed on a glacier when some of the snow/ice begins to separate from the snow above it). I admit, I was already feeling extraordinarliy wracked with nervous adrenaline as I watched the first couple of people attach themselves to the rope and start climbing - step, step, place the axe move the knot along the rope (the friction knot that catches you should you slip). When it was my turn, I felt ready to tackle it - adrenaline and axe in hand. It wasn't too much steeper than the traverse. I just stepped into the already carved out steps where I could shove my toes into the mountain side and let my cramp ons work their magic. Don't get me wrong, it was stressful and I was pretty tense, but I made it to the first anchor, thrilled! to say the least. I remember commenting to Leslie how that was something I never imagined I'd be doing. What she should have said, though I am sure she didn't know either, was - 'just wait! you have no idea!'. But, she was encouraging and proud of me for coming as far as I had.

Indeed, I had no idea what freak-out-curse-inducing intensity was in store for me. I suddenly felt so uncoordinated as I fixed myself to the rope once again - how to wield the axe, move the knot and my feet safely and effectively...all the while my mind/body is on the verge of a major breakdown. We climbed to the left of a snow bridge, really steep adn a bit icy - to a ledge that we had to step up onto...with the toe spikes of my crampons. I was out of mind freaked out - in what they call here, the twilight zone - as I reached that point, having make a high step, digging my toes into the snow above, thrust my axe in overhead, grasp the rope and step up, putting all my weight onto that seemingly weak-ass ledge...that step, those 2-4 crampon teeth a couple inches of axe embedded into the snow. It was unreal...being able to climb snow like that at that angle.I knew if I fell that that it would only be a couple of inches - that there was everythign in place to keep me safe. I think it was the thought of having to get resituated and try again at any given point had I fallen, that really stressed me out. I had a moment after that about 5 feet from the top of that second pitch where I could no longer contain all that had welled up inside. I creid nearly causing me to hyperventilate - terrified breaths at 11,000 feet. I knew I was almost there and I knew that I would make it. But, I was in the throws of the very core meaning of overwhelmedness. It felt like the scariest or most intense thing I'd ever done or place I'd ever been. I got myself calmed down, unnoticed, and made the last few steps secure on my rear end near the second anchor, stressed and beligerent as ever. Elspie, Joel, Brittany and Graham were there to welcome me with sensitivity and encouragement. I just sat there stunned...knowing it wasn't over, trying with all my might to set my fears aside and evjoy the moments, let the intensity pass and just go for it.

The start of the next and final section proved to be as harrowing as what I'd just been through, if not more...this time on gravel covered ice. I put my axe aside and had to rely solely on the toe grips of each step up the icy gravel, reaching around the corner of the boulder we were sitting below desperate for some deeper footing, for solid level ground. After the gravel, it was just a hundred feet of steps - snowy staircase using the pick of my axe to grip the ice, trying to stand more upright per Dustin's and Brittany's suggestions. It seemed eternal, but at least a little more steady...keep your heels low, trust and focus on the steps, hold onto the rope as much as you need to... It was intoxicating making those final steps to the top of the snow, stepping onto the level ground...

The views were unbearable - mountains of all shapes and colors of the earth - valleys, lakes and meadows, blue sky and distant clouds in every direction beautiful. The final climb to the summit was a fun rock scramble over large boulders, at times with plummeting drop offs on either side of a 5 foot wide rock. I don't quite have adequate words to really express what it felt like to climb snow like that, to see Yosemite and the Ansel Adams Wilderness (even into Nevada) from 12,000 feet... and to try to relive it here...

The way down was simply exhausting. It was long and beautiful and exhausting. It ended up being a 12 hour, at the end of which I crashed pretty hard - not enough calories to make up for all that I'd burned and the food I did try to eat when I got back to camp didn't agree with me - so I threw it up and went straight to bed...

It was one of the most memorable, fun, beautiful, thrilling educational experiences of my life. I was and am really grateful for the work that the leaders here put into being able to offer such opportunities to us and many others.

One interesting thing I realized, is how ready I am to begin expending this kind of energy challenging myself to become more skilled as a midwife...not just in these outdoor adventure, which are challenges I've been after for a long time...now, maybe it's time to really get to know my midwife-self.