The piercing sound of gunfire rang out through the desert air, sending Charles, Asa and myself scampering for cover against the desert chaparral. Our panicked, semi-crouched positions belied our combat inexperience. Storms, avalanches, crevasses, rockfall — between the three of us we’ve faced our share of objective hazards. But the very real possibility of being shot was a new one. More »
Wednesday morning, 230am (roughly)
“dude, I forgot my harness…”
Brad and I were inside my shitty tent, bivied at 11500 feet in Glacier Gorge, rain fly flapping in the wind and the sound of alpine streams filling the silence in between gusts. We had hiked in around sunset and went to sleep around midnight with BIG plans for the next day. I woke briefly from my slumber and was greeted by Brad, who was apparently wide awake. All he said was, “dude…I forgot my harness.” More »
Out of all the mountains I have ever climbed, Mt. Lady Washington is definitely the least cool. First off, Its named after George Washington’s wife, who probably never climbed a mountain and/or had an orgasm in her life. (she might be wearing a bathrobe in this picture!?) More »
“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times”
Buster and I left the Glacier Gorge trailhead at 330am. Our skinned skis sounded like laser guns, gliding along the snow which was well packed thanks to the hoards of people who come to the gorge to cross country ski and snowshoe into that majestic section of Rocky Mountain National Park. More »
My friend from “back in the day” (high school), had a condo all to himself in West Vail for a week, and invited me up to stay. With work being slow, I decided I would head up for a 4 day weekend and get some snowboarding in–courtesy of Pete’s season pass–at one of the country’s best and poshest resorts. On a whim, I called Buster and told him about the situation, and suggested we get on some ice in the Vail area. More »
One 82 hour weekend, 29 hours of driving, 4 states, 1 rented mini-van, 4 stinky guys and 1 petite French Canadian mademoiselle, one 30th birthday, one enclosed “natural” hot-springs, copious amounts of booze, and shit-loads of ice to climb. More »
Its funny (in a sick and twisted way) how often the word “death” gets used as an adjective while climbing…”hey Buster, are you on the death flake?” “Oh man, I can’t wait to do the death march back to the car tonight.” “That Death traverse was sooooo fun!” But Death in the mountains, along with poverty, injustice, and war, are all things of the past now that Obama is president. That’s why we never took the rope or any gear out of our packs during our mile long, 5.5 hour ascent of Mt. Ypsilon’s Blitzen ridge, although the extra weight did make it more “fun.” But really people, who needs a rope when you’ve got hope?
Like so many climbing trips and adventures, this one started with an email. It was from Buster, and attached to the email was a picture of someone following The Flying Dutchman’s (TFD) crux ice section: More »
For the 3rd time in 3 weeks, I woke up at midnight to go climb a big mountain. The motions have taken on a faint sense of familiarity, a sort of deja vu. An empty house, roomates out at the bars, loaded backpack waiting by the door, laden with dual ice axes and my boots and gaiters sitting peacefully by its side, begging to be dawned and trodden through the snow and ice, over the high alpine rock. The tools of the trade. My food bag sits in the fridge, each of the 3500 calories ready to be burned. More »
I am proud to announce the grand opening of PullHarder CO. That is not to say that Ian and Buster have not been pulling ridiculously hard in the Rocky Mountain state for quite some time, but this is the first trip report to take place in Colorado and involve 2 Coloradans (I just got residency and registered my car here yesterday). That’s right folks, I now have mountains on my license plate and I live in a town called Boulder. More »
