Grand Teton Solo

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No snow this year Floridaputz No snow this year.

Only a small patch of snow could be seen on the Eastern slopes below the summit of the Grand Teton. From the valley below, my eyes scanned the range back and forth, looking for more. The color seemed sun bleached and washed away like a pair of faded jeans. Fires burned below the great hulk of Mt. Moran. Their unpredictability threatening to chase us out of the Grand Teton National Park.

ACC Climbers Ranch Floridaputz ACC Climbers Ranch.

Fires burning Floridaputz Fires burning.

We hoped for the best as we got back in the car. We were headed to the AAC climbers ranch, perched below the menacing glare of the Grand Teton. After stopping in Jackson, it seems the Tetons have become the playground of the rich and famous. A simple climber like me? Not worthy. I was totally surprised that the best view in the house is courtesy of the American Alpine Club's climber’s ranch.

The Grand from the Climbers Ranch Floridaputz The Grand from the Climbers Ranch.

It seems anyone who goes to Grand Teton National Park cannot resist the lure of the Grand Teton. Climber and neophyte alike look up at her and remark, “I have to climb that.” We are drawn to her like the lonely sailor who is charmed by a beautiful barmaid, only to wake up shanghaied and indentured as a servant at sea.

Many worthy climbs await the alpine climber. The climbs on the Grand are not the only objectives. Many great climbs on the other peaks exist. But sooner than later the Grand becons, her smile irresistible.

The line at Jenny Lake's backcountry ranger station already had three people when I arrived at 4:00 am. Climbers of all sorts vying for backcountry permits to access prime camping spots to launch their climbs or hiking trips. By the buzz in line it sounded like most were heading for the Grand Teton. It was late August, but there was still a chill in the air this morning. As the morning light came, so did the clients for the guide services, arriving from their fancy Jackson Hole digs with their gourmet coffee in hand. We managed to get a permit for the moraine camp below the lower saddle. Perfect, for our planned climb of the upper Exum Ridge.

As we hiked in from Lupine meadows we passed all sorts of interesting people. Some suffering, some proud. Hundreds of day pack toting tourists passed us on their way back down the mountain. Most had summited via the Owens-Spalding Route with one of the guide services. The hired porters carry all their stuff up. They spend the night in a Quonset hut on the upper saddle and are awoken for an early summit try. Whether they make it or not, they then hike all the way back to the valley. Conquerors or dejected lovers. They return back to the bars and gift shops of Jackson Hole.

Moriane camp Floridaputz Moraine camp.

As we got higher, we passed no less than three tents blown down the mountain in ruin along the trail. I was a bit shocked by this, not realizing how this could happen. We arrived at the moraine camp to tents of every color. Pitched behind their fortresses of rock to protect them from the ever howling wind. Up here only the strong survived. I quickly realized why the tents were blown down the mountain. “Oh I see,” I remarked to my partner. "The dumb asses left their tents improperly secured when they left to climb and they blew away!" What a drag to return to camp and find your tent gone with all your stuff blown down the mountain. “Come to me," the beautiful bartender says. "I won’t harm you.”

We set up camp among the vast sea of sailors. The line of lovers waiting for a shot at the beautiful bar maid. We spent the rest of the day watching a never ending procession of climbers, hikers going up and comming down the trail. I absolutely could not believe how many people were on the mountain.

I noticed an odd man camped next to us. He was wearing wind pants and a tee shirt even though it was pretty chilly. He looked like a plumber, huge gut, and the crack of his ass showing like the Grand Canyon. A gap of 5-6 inches showed between his pants and tee shirt. He was red from the wind and cold. He was alone. Eventually, he came over and announced that he was going to solo the Owens-Spalding Route. “What kind of climbing experience do you have?” I asked.

“Well”, he said, “I made a solo attempt on Mt. McKinley a few years ago, but I did not make it to the top.” I thought to myself he must know what he is doing if he tried to climb Denali. As he continued to speak I became quickly convinced he had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. He had no rope, or any other climbing gear. His boots and clothes were unmistakably K-mart purchased. His climbing plan was to follow someone else up to find his way. “Sorry we are taking another route," I said, nixing any plan he had of going with us. I realized he was a love drunk sailor about to be shanghaied.

That night, as we hunkered down in the tent, I told my partner laughing, “No way will he ever get to the top!”

Exum Ridge Floridaputz Exum Ridge.

A 4:00 am start... headlamps stretched from the moraine camp all the way to the upper saddle, like ants in search of food. Climbers of all types make their way. The lights leading the way like an illumanated serpent. It was windy and very cold. There was no movement from the Sailor's tent. A quick power bar and off we went. The wind at the lower saddle was blowing strong at about 50 mph. We did not find relief from it until we got past the needles eye and found Wall Street, the entrance to the upper Exum ridge. We took our time, the climbing simple and enjoyable. We explored and reconnoitered the mountain on our way up and got to the summit well before noon. It was clear, so we hung out with the many others on the summit for a long time.

Grand Summit looking East at Tweenot summit Floridaputz Grand Summit looking East at Tweenot summit.

Just as we were ready to leave I looked up, and there, to my total surprise, icicles grown from his nostrils, in thin wind pants, a tee shirt, and a pull over wind breaker was the love drunk sailor. She promised him I thought. Obviously, he was near hypothermic -- blue in the face and frozen. The others on the summit treated him like a leper. I let out a big congratulations and laugh, tickled pink that he had made it. I love to be proved wrong like that. I asked him why aren’t you celebrating! You just soloed the Grand Teton!

With great difficulty, face frozen, he slurred, "Yeah but how do I get down?"

Well to be honest, I figured he was a big boy and if he got up he could probably get down. So off I went to the decent chimney, either a down climb or rappel. Waiting in line to rap, the Sailor caught up with us. Now as people were coming up and going down the gossip about our blue faced mountaineer emerged. One group said “I can’t believe he made it. We thought he was going to die.” All the other climbers had one thing in common; they wanted nothing to do with this misfit.

I took off a layer and told him to put it on. I pitied him, he was frozen. I said, “Dude, you can rap down with us.”

The other climbers seemed repulsed by him. “I don’t know how to rappel," he mumbled.

“OK Dude, I have some webbing. I’ll tie a harness on you and I’ll get you down past the rappels.”

“NO!” he shrieked. “That would hurt my nuts!”

I kid you not. Half frozen and his biggest worry was his family jewels. After that comment, another group who was going to help just walked away.

I tried for 5 minutes to talk sense into him with no success. Refusing to rappel, I told him that he could try to down climb. He would have to down climb the way he came up. All the while other parties were coming up and going down. They all had one thing in common, avoid the sailor.

About 8 people watched as he was ready to step off the edge, facing out, frozen solid, to down climb to the Owen chimney or to fall to his death. “Dude", I said again, and he stopped. I decided a quick lesson in down climbing was in order. When you climb down face toward the rock that way you can try to stop yourself if you slide. I could not believe that no one else would help him even a little. They all stood there and said nothing as he was ready to hurl himself to his death. I rapped along with him so I could help him if he freaked. Somehow he clawed his way down the chimney and collapsed into a heap. Then I told him, “Now, you must reverse the rest of the Owens Spalding route, do the belly roll, and when you reach the upper saddle just hike back to camp.”

I figured he would make his way and maybe someone else would help him. We took the single rope double rappel and descended to camp. As darkness came that night he still had not returned. I lay awake listening for him until I fell asleep.

The next morning we broke camp and were ready to leave. I told my partner to wait while I checked his tent. I shook it and he groaned. I laughed loud and hard “Hey, you made it!”

“Yeah, barely. Never again.”

“I need my jacket back.” I said. He thanked me and tossed it out the door.

Beauty is irrisistable. Even more than money. It can be a mountain, a women or a dream. The smile from such beauty, can make you forget your common sense. Like the poor lonley salior, drunk and hopeful, who ends up thumped and dumped. You believed that she would never hurt you. The lust you follow might just get shanghaied!