After 9 hours, 500+ gallons of water, hundreds of man-hours worth of scrubbing, 2 pressure washers going, a great BBQ, and many smiles later, we have this video kindly put together by Greg Horvath:

Thanks EVERYONE who helped in this monumental community event.  It was by far the most impressive volunteerism that I’ve ever seen in the San Diego climbing community.

Josh Higgins

Biographie, anyone?

On the second day, Enrico managed to fall executing the tricky starting moves of the famous Blockage Violent without however having clipped the first bolt. I was still dutifully spotting an imaginary climber, as he proceeded to hit the ground, badly spraining his ankle, which assumed a strange round shape and a nice blue color to go with it. It appeared that this would be the end of our alpine ambitions for the summer. Yet, the seasoned alpine guide from Padova was not that easy to stop… in the following days, he continued to hike and climb, treating the ankle with a strange ointment and cold water from the spring at the parking lot.

Breakfast, Ceuse style.

After ten days, we had had about enough of the crag and the crowds. We hit the supermarket in Gap for provisions, and raced back to Courmayer, on the Italian side of Mont Blanc. Enrico drove like a mad man, while I was organizing gear at the back; we caught the last cable car to Rifugio Torino with a few minutes to spare. At the Torino hut, we hydrated with a few liters of beer, before starting out the approach to the Grand Capucin, loaded like mules. We had everything for a few days out in the glacier; beer constituting a large part of the weight. We were gasping for air on the approach, but spirits were high. The weather was awesome, clear skies and an amazing stillness enveloped the range. Under the weight of the haul bag, I glanced at the familiar peaks; the jagged Dent du Geant, the north face of the Tour Ronde, the Aiguille du Midi in the distance; I felt strangely at home. We arrived at the plateau under the Grand Capucin as the sun was setting, and set up camp.

I heard Enrico swear and I knew something was wrong. Dreams of a hot dinner of penne al pesto evaporated as we realized that the canister we had bought that morning did not fit his stove. Then the crushing realization sunk in that we only had a liter of water between us. Dinner consisted of salami, bread and some biscuits, and some strong beer to wash it down. Some time during the night, we drank half the water, not being able to stand the thirst any more. We waited patiently for the alarm to go off, then had a few biscuits and some snow-diluted-beer for breakfast. We started the slow trudge towards the Grand Capucin, as the first rays of the sun illuminated its golden granite. We crossed the bergschrund, chewed some last snow and, trying not to think too much about our thirst, started up Voyage selon Gulliver, one of the most famous modern routes (if not the most famous one) of the peak.

The climbing was phenomenal and we were strangely alone, apart from a party consisting of a guide and a client, a couple of pitches ahead of us. We caught up to them and politely inquired if they had any water. In an inimitable French accent, they politely but firmly responded that they only had 3 liters of it and apparently none to spare. We pushed on. The route masterfully follows the weaknesses up the face, as beautiful splitters alternate with delicate slabs. I slammed onto the wall a few times, as Enrico, around the corner and out of sight, was repeatedly whipping trying to free the crux pitch. A few demanding pitches of steep crack climbing brought us to the end of the route.

Tired and dehydrated as hell, we opted to skip the summit owing to our haggard condition, as well as Enrico’s freshly swollen ankle. A series of rappels brought as down to the base, as the wind picked up and the temperature started dropping. We slogged back to camp, got into the tent and just lied there for a while, cooking duties not applicable. We had some beer with no food to go with it, and then tried to sleep.

The emblematic Grand Capucin.

Glorious skies greeted us the next day. However, we decided that the Bonatti route would have to wait for another time, as we prudently acknowledged that maybe it was a bad idea to continue drinking beer instead of water, and climb technical terrain. We packed up and slowly headed out. The uphill to the Torino hut was hell, but even that came to an end. Back at the hut, water tasted like ambrosia. We celebrated with a couple of beers and took the cable car down. The great faces of the Dolomites were calling…

(Jenny)     (Josh in italics)

Once I’d gotten Jenny to commit to some solid suffering, it was time for some research.  I head into the Sierra occasionally, but I’m in no way familiar with them. I didn’t even have a clue where the Cyclorama Wall was.  I sat down with the Secor guide for my first time ever, installed Google Earth software, and printed some topos from Caltopo.com.  It was on!  I sat there looking at near vertical passes in 3D, rotating around looking from different perspectives, hoping that it would be easier when we got there… I was wrong.  Luckily, Jenny had full trust in my ability, and it was quite amusing when she mentioned pounding the hike out in a day.  I tried not to confirm or deny that possibility, keeping her in the dark as to what she was getting herself into, knowing full well that we were proper fucked.

Ok, so clearly I was a bit of a Sierra nOOb, but if I could run 50 miles, 20 miles with a pack on seemed reasonable, right? Well… not exactly. We rolled up to the trailhead late Saturday afternoon with our food and gear tossed in the back of Josh’s car. It wasn’t until we started putting stuff in our backpacks that I realized we might be in a little over our heads (literally, Josh’s pack was so full it cleared his head by almost a foot and was lopsided), and that we wouldn’t be reaching Cyclorama wall in a day.  I struggled to put on my ~60lbs pack while fending off the help of a hiker at the trailhead, and we set out towards our destination for night one, Brainerd Lake, a mere 3.75 miles and 2600 ft in elevation gain away.

Before we left, someone asked me why I chose Cyclorama Wall since it’s such a hard objective.  I pondered for a while, and replied, “Because it’s out of my comfort zone.”  I’d essentially created the perfect storm.  I had no idea what we were getting ourselves into, and I’d never backpacked more than two nights in my life (Jenny just learned this looking over my shoulder).  We had two ropes, double rack, gear for bailing if we got in over our heads, about five times the fuel we needed, and a full bolt kit with 3/8″ bolts, since I don’t believe in setting crap bolts, even in the backcountry.  We were planning on being gone off trail for over a week, so we had all the accompanying food, crampons, ice axes, and more.  Besides the n00bitude resulting in monster packs, I perform MISERABLY at altitude, and I was sick.  Oh yeah, it was Sufferfest 2012.  Punishment = Glory, right?

Yes, Josh had certainly set himself up for punishment that first day.  Sure, I was tired, but as I was casually pushing forward I’d look back and realize that I had dropped Josh, again. Part of the problem was that Josh had chivalrously taken too much weight when we dolled out gear, clearly overestimating himself and underestimating me. I offered numerous times to take more weight, but Josh just wanted to push on, slowly. Maybe he really does enjoy the punishment? We finally crested the trail and were treated to the sight of the full moon rising over the ridge as we snacked. Rejuvenated, we walked for another hour or so by headlamp before deciding that Brainerd Lake, in fact, didn’t exist, and we should just pitch our tent wherever we could.

I admit, I had too much weight in my pack, but it wasn’t chivalry, it was idiocy.  I don’t think I picked up both packs until after we stopped, and realized the weight difference was too big.  While I enjoy a good suffer, I was moving way too slow and holding us up, so I gave Jenny another rope the next morning since she was the pack animal, uh.. I mean endurance machine, I had hoped she would be. Combine my cold, which kept me from breathing, with altitude sickness (did I mention I’m MISERABLE at altitude?), and I probably didn’t sleep more than an hour that night.  The next day, head pounding, we continued up through some beautiful terrain past Brainerd Lake, eventually experiencing our first of much off trail travel to come.  Perhaps I should let Jenny explain her first experience with this thing called, “talus,” which she became intimately familiar with…

I’m not really sure what I thought “off trail” terrain would be, but I definitely wasn’t prepared for this.  Every step traveling through the talus fields was unsure and off-balanced, undoubtedly exacerbated by the weight of our packs and unstable rocks. Slowly, I learned tricks to navigate more efficiently, and trended towards the mid-sized talus that was large enough to stay in place but not too large to require using my hands. After crossing over talus for a of couple hours, I was finally starting to get the hang of it. I was even comfortable, maybe. Then Josh spotted a somewhat steep gully full of snow and proposed we head that direction as opposed to the larger boulders on the right. Ok, sure…  Josh tried to kick steps for me in the icy snow, but he took huge steps and the ledges he was leaving behind were shallow and sloping. So much for being comfortable! Little did I know, I was about to feel like I was in a room full of people all trying to simultaneously hug me (i.e. very uncomfortable, because I don’t even like people).

As we approached the end of the valley, looming above us was the ominous South Fork Pass.  Now I just might be a total sissy, but having only ice climbed once in Ouray for a couple of days, doing some trivial snow travel around Bear Creek Spire and an early season descent off the Incredible Hulk, this pass looked pretty damn imposing.  My altitude sickness and our heavy packs slowed us down, so we had over an hour to stare at our looming obstacle as we plodded closer.  The pass was a pair of nighmarishly miserable chutes that became ever steeper and thinner, eventually turning into mud and loose dirt.  We could hear and see rocks plummeting down the chutes as the afternoon heat melted out the existing snow and ice.  I have to admit, a big part of me wanted to pull the plug on this plan, but the idiot in me couldn’t give up that easy.  We ate some food and hydrated in the talus field, listening to ominous rockfall in the pass, then Jenny and I pulled out our ice axes, crampons, and helmets, and started up the steepening snow field.  Again, it was another first for Jenny, who had never even put on a pair of crampons before this!  We chose the chute on the right, and approached from the right side, trying to avoid a bergschrund on the left.

As we reached the most narrow section of the chute, the ice axes became necessary, and I coached Jenny through the trickier sections.  A slip would have most certainly resulted in a multi-hundred foot plummet down the chute. With our massive backpacks we proceeded with utmost care. The most dangerous part was the transition from snow/ice to mud/dirt, where ice axes didn’t help, and we moved right onto very loose very steep dirt and loose rocks.  In the middle of making the transition, I heard a noise and glanced up to see a 2-3′  flat rock spin loose of the mud and ice directly above us and come barreling down the chute.

“ROCK!!!” I couldn’t bring myself to look up as I quickly assessed my situation.  I was in the middle of crossing from the snow and ice on the left side of the chute through a flowing mud gully several feet wide to the more solid right side of the chute that was lower angle and started to resemble something like passable terrain. The toe of my left foot was kicked into ice, my left hand was free, my right foot was “kicked” into the mud gully that was sliding downward, and my right hand was holding my ice axe, which was in a solid ice placement. Ok, I thought, focus on keeping my left foot solid  in the ice, my ice axe engaged, and hold on like hell with my right hand. Just stay on the wall! Josh was to my right, on more solid terrain, and had a solid hand on an embedded rock. As I was waiting for the impending impact, Josh reached over with his left and and grabbed my right wrist and held on like hell.

I honestly don’t even know where the rock hit, but it had passed and we were both still there. Josh stayed collected, and emphasized that we needed to move to the right, quick. After establishing on more solid terrain, he assured me that I just had to make a few moves through the sliding mud/dirt and I’d be able to reach a solid resting place. I tried to stay focused and move carefully despite the fact that all I could think about was another rock coming down, and this time I wouldn’t have any solid placements in the ice to rely on.  I eventually moved right and somehow ended up sitting down on a large sloping rock, facing down the chute. Oh. My. God.  I started to internalize what had just happened.  That would have been a very large fall, had the rock knocked me off. I realized my knuckles on my right hand were all bloody and I was a bit spooked, to say the least. I was stuck on this rock, too timid to move off it, worried that the weight of my pack would set me off balance and I would tumble to the bottom of the chute that I was staring down.  Josh was up above me and was able to take off his pack so that he could down climb and grab my pack off of me.  I’m positive I wouldn’t have moved from my perch if he hadn’t. We slowly moved up the rest of the chute and were over-joyed when we verified that the other side of the pass was easier terrain and led to a meadow with a series of gorgeous alpine lakes.

After our multi-hour battle with South Fork Pass, we were destroyed but astonished at the beauty we were rewarded with on the other side of the pass.  It looked like amazing glacier carved lakes forever, surrounded by beautiful green grassy meadows. It was not only physically taxing to get through South-Fork Pass, but mentally as well, which certainly takes its toll.  We dropped out of the pass, set up an unbelievably picturesque camping spot, ate tons of food, and decompressed.  I’m sure we both passed out almost immediately after dark, a day and a half into our little excursion and only one of four passes done… yikes!

We woke up the next day, refreshed, and dropped toward the Palisade Lakes marveling at our surroundings.  We followed rivers, passed many lakes, and saw the back side of the Palisade range.  When we hit the Palisade Lakes, we cut south toward Mather Pass where we started making good time on the John Muir Trail.  It was interesting to actually see people again, as the occasional solo hiker blew past us.  All of them commented on our pack size, and I’m sure they laughed at us later.  We nicknamed them the “little-pack people,” and did some laughing of our own.  We tagged Mather, ate some lunch, and quickly headed back off trail.  From there it was a couple of miles off trail to the West to an unnamed pass that was, at best, sketchy when I saw it on Google Earth.  When we arrived exhausted, we dropped packs, fueled up, and I started to search for a way down the other side.  After some poking around, I found a massive steep dihedral that looked passible at very solid 4th class just north of the lowest point on the pass.  Happy to have found a way, but sad to have to now put my pack back on, we started to head down out of our third pass for the trip.

The “passable” way Josh found down was still pretty damn intimidating, but I figured it had to be easier than ascending South Fork Pass. We descended down the dihedral, and I was surprised that is was in fact relatively easy. As the steepness of the terrain decreased, the dihedral disappeared and we were left to descend across a large talus field to another series of sparkling alpine lakes and meadows.  Maybe it was because we were so tired or maybe it was that we were headed towards a mythical oasis, but it seemed as if we were descending that horrible talus field forever!  As we got nearer to the lakes, I realized the idyllic setting that I was motivated to reach was not so much of an oasis but rather an environment for the world’s most heinous creature to thrive. MOSQUITOES. They were everywhere. We contemplated where to set up camp as I hysterically swung my arms around. Josh thought the location we were currently at would be ok, wanting to take his pack off as soon as possible. He luckily wasn’t as bothered by the mosquitoes as I was because they were too busy eating me alive.  I vetoed spending another minute here, and we decided to ditch our packs and search for a less mosquito-infested camping site. We found a location that was between the two lakes, was a little higher up (and thus less mossy), and had a slight breeze.  The mosquito population was definitely less dense here, but they were still bad enough that we affectionately named our base camp the Mosquito Pit. Again, I’d like to stress that Josh suffered maybe a bite or two, while I was constantly having to defend myself.  I discovered that soaking my buff in repellent, and using that to protect my neck, worked somewhat well, so at one point the only exposed skin I had was between my hat and my chin.  This resulted in a line of bites on my forehead for which Josh teased me about for the rest of the trip. (It was REALLY funny!!!) Regardless, this seemed like the best location in this valley and we decided to set up camp here. It seemed like an impossible task to travel back to our backpacks, put them on again, and walk back to our chosen site.  It wasn’t until the next day, when we traveled the same distance to get water that we realized how short and easy it was, and how utterly destroyed we were the day before.  We decided to forgo carrying our heavy packs through our 4th and final pass to get to Cyclorama and instead opted to put on lighter day packs and go for a line that Josh had spotted on a nearby wall.  I was stoked to finally get roped up, and more importantly on the rock away from the mosquitoes!

Jenny didn’t even come close to imparting how pathetic the 200 yard walk back for the backpacks was after we found a place to set up camp.  My hips were bruised and bloody, my shoulders were  in agony, and we were stumbling after so many miles of talus hopping.  However, after 2.5 days, three passes, and endless off-trail hiking, we were rewarded with this:

Waking up the morning of the 4th day, four things were apparent:

1.  It is amazing how much good a single night of sleep can do!

2.  Still, today needed to be an “easy day” and miles of off trail travel through unnamed passes that looked gnarly was not appealing.

3.  There was no way in hell I wasn’t roping up for that beautiful wall above our tent!

4. This was the first day I could eat a meal without wanting to vomit; I was stoked!!!

It felt so good to pack “only” a full trad rack, two ropes, and a day’s worth of supplies, and we headed up our valley to the beautiful wall looming above.  From camp, I had spied a potential splitter above the toe of the rock, using some small binoculars we had brought.  We approached following a beautiful stream past a waterfall, up into more talus hopping.  Perhaps an hour after we started, we were flaking the rope at the toe of the rock with shit-eating grins!  The first pitch was 10- hands and fingers up a corner to a nice ledge.  From there, the plan to wrap around the arete to the right toward the splitter I had seen payed off spectacularly!  It was another pitch of 5.10- hands and fingers that I climbed until I ran out of rope.  I built a hanging belay, brought Jenny up, and did another short pitch to establish on a more comfortable leaning ramp system that was arching up toward the summit.  On one of the pitches, I yelled down, “How many multipitch climbs have you done?”  Jenny yelled back, “Uh, I climbed Fingertrip at Tahquitz!”  Classic!  From there, 2 easy pitches led up and to the right, followed by two more pitches of 5.10.  One of them had some 5.10+ overhanging hands that were quite fun.  The route spit us out perfectly on the summit, and I brought Jenny up for some victory photos.  We had brought Ducky, the Pull Harder mascot, and named the route Ducky’s Wild Ride (5.10d, IV).

My favorite part of the climb was the overhanging hands at the top.  I was have trouble sticking a good jam and had to take. Josh was anxious for me to top out because he was in an uncomfortable belay position and was yelling down beta. After analyzing my options, I screamed up that I thought I could lie-back through the section. Josh, appalled at the thought of lie-backing a perfectly jam-able crack snuffed, “Who taught you how to crack climb?” I laughed, “You!” (I took Josh’s class at the gym). Classic!

Alright, so now I’d done my first FA and Josh was ready to send another first my way.  We chose to descend down a partially snow-covered gully. After descending the steeper top portion along the side wall, Josh suggested that we glissade down the bottom half to save time (and so that he could obtain an embarrassing video of me).  Being from Minnesota, I’ve done my fair share of sledding growing up, but there’s something a lot more reassuring about sitting on an inflatable tube as opposed to the rain jacket which I used to pad my backsides (apparently Josh had experience with a frozen bum post-glissade).  As I descended, my scream turned to laughter as I realized it was quite fun! We were only half way through the trip and I had already experienced so much. We headed back to camp and cooked up dinner, and our one dessert reserved  for celebrating an FA. We had brought an assortment of Mountain House and Backpacker’s Pantry meals to eat on the trip.  In addition to all the alpine skills I’d been learning, Josh also taught me that Mountain House trumps Backpacker’s Pantry, always.  Each night we’d eat one of each brand, and having picked out most of the Backpacker’s Pantry varieties at REI, I had to reluctantly admit that the Mountain House entree was better. However, I would like to note that MH was dependably bland, while BP was often too spicy for my palate.

Day 5 was spectacular for a number of reasons.  It was the first day of the trip I didn’t wake up from a splitting headache, possibly because my cold was breaking and I was actually able to breathe at night and get some sleep.  5 days to acclimatize… I know, I’m a sissy at altitude.  The second reason was this was the day we would finally finish our hike to the mythical Cyclorama Wall and scout for potential FA’s!  Our day on Ducky’s Wild Ride allowed our legs, backs, and shoulders to recover a little, but we still wanted to go light and just carry day packs.  We left our tent in the Mosquito Pit and headed into uncharted territory.  It appeared that the dip in the ridge line to the right of Ducky’s Wild Ride was passable, and would allow access into the Dumbbell Lakes region.  We packed our bags, and headed up the talus and snow covered hill above.  In the picture you can see the lakes we camped between, the tall formation in the background is the back of the Cyclorama Wall, and we proceeded through the “pass” above the left end of the lake, which was 4th/5th class.  Once through the other side, we had beautiful views of the back of the Cyclorama wall, and our curiosity increased as we kept hiking.

Rounding the corner, we saw the Cyclorama Wall in all its glory, buried 20 miles back through 4 passes. We had entered the netherworld that Galen Rowell described.  The long story short was that the right side looked like it had good granite, but overlaps low off the ground appeared difficult to free.  I studied the wall with binoculars, and the cracks looked, for the most part, flared and discontinuous.  Pair that with the steep nature of the wall, and attempting such a free project seemed quite difficult.  I wouldn’t say it isn’t freeable, so don’t let that deter you if you’re strong like a bull, but know there’s a reason that Rowell used aid on the climb.  I believe that I could see the line he climbed back in the day, and it would be an interesting proposition to try to free it, but with a partner who had done two multipitch routes in her life, I felt that something easier would be a wise choice.  Instead, we gunned for the far left ridge the wall.  It was high quality white granite, with nicer looking cracks.  I picked a line, and Ducky and I racked up.  I’ll let Jenny tell the story…

What Josh meant by “I felt that something easier would be a wise choice” was that, after describing to me the procedure for a tension traverse, I was quite possibly in shock and was most definitely looking at him with shear terror. He wanted me to untie my figure eight knot? Yaaaaaa. I don’t think so. I was relieved when Josh suggested we head for the left ridge. The rock looked similar to what we had climbed the day before, and I anticipated that it’d be easier climbing since it was lower angle. Naturally, I again made the mistake of feeling comfortable. Josh, undoubtedly sensing this, began to inform me that we might have to simul-climb.  My only familiarity with simul-climbing came from the 2011 Reel Rock Film Tour clip “Race for the Nose” in which they portrayed it as sketchy. Extremely sketchy. Sure enough, I yelled out 15ft and Josh told me we were going to simul for a bit because there wasn’t a good place for an anchor. Climbing with the mindset that you can’t fall was certainly stressful, but luckily the climbing on the sections we simul-ed was solid and easy. There was a weird section in the middle with a series of parallel cracks separated by a couple feet that Josh had a “difficult” time getting through. I struggled through the section as well, forcing my worst nightmare to come true: I couldn’t get a cam out because it was placed near the crux. I feel like if you’re not going to do any of the work leading, you should at least be adept at gear retrieval. But mostly, the thought of scrounging up the money to buy Josh a new cam was overwhelming (remember, poor grad student). Josh finally told me to leave it as the day was getting late and we needed to push on.  A few pitches later we were climbing on a unique slab feature at the top of the wall.

After topping out, our plan was to traverse the ridge towards the center of Cyclorama Wall such that we could boot-ski down the scree on the backside. However, it was mid-afternoon and ominous clouds were developing quickly. Given the technical nature of the traverse and my minimal experience simul-climbing, we opted to rap off on some bail slings Josh had brought. First, we had to traverse the knife edge ridge that was at the top of the slab feature, and then Josh set up the rappel and headed down first. My turn. I was pretty hesitant to weight the sling that was around a pretty rounded “chicken-head,” And though I had watched Josh safely descend, it sure would have been nice to have him there double-checking what I was doing. I also had this weird feeling that by going second I could somehow be abandoned in the middle of the wall.  I expressed these concerns to Josh, so he graciously let me go first on our final rappel, to show me that dealing with the rope as the first rappeler is a bitch! Lesson learned. I’ll gladly go second from now on. Josh leisurely rapped behind me to the ground and was even able to retrieve the stuck cam. It was late afternoon and we had put up another quality moderate route which we named Netherworld (5.10a R, IV) in honor of Galen Rowell’s write-up. However, we must have felt that we hadn’t suffered an appropriate amount that day (having opted for the easier climb) because we decided to take the most difficult possible route back to the Mosquito Pit.

We headed back to our tent through Cataract Creek Pass, which dropped us on the north side of Amphitheater Lake.  In the picture, I’m smiling, but really I was anything but happy.  We were physically ruined, and had just crested a ridge to find  ANOTHER multi-hundred foot drop that we would have to regain to gain the pass.  It was just depressing.  After dropping down the other side, what looked relatively flat was miles of uphill back to the tent.  We were practically crawling when returned to the tent, even with our light packs.  The only pluses were seeing what we thought were mountain lion tracks in the snow, and seeing a roughly 1000′ face that had promise above the west end of Amphitheater Lake.

Day six we awoke with hope of yet another great climb, planning to climb the wall we saw before.  We packed up our gear again, and headed back down the valley toward Amphitheater Lake.  On the way, we stopped to fill water and scope the wall with binoculars.

We were starting to get used to climbing with each other, Jenny had learned simul-climbing, her confidence was growing, and we were halfway up the wall in under an hour.  The wall steepened throughout, with spectacular looking cracks high above, but it was not meant to be.  I knew we’d slow significantly as the wall steepened, puffy clouds kept coming over the top of the wall from out of view, and we heard thunder in the distance.  Worried about a growing afternoon thunderstorm, I build an anchor and we bailed off the wall.  The storm never materialized that day, but it turned into a forced rest day, which was much needed.  We hiked back to camp with half a day to kill in the beautiful Mosquito Pit.

The first rest day objective was to do some laundry, since we had both been wearing the same clothing for 5 days.  We had some fun rigging a clothing line between two boulders with cams and climbing rope and used carabiners as clothespins. We also played a few rounds of Farkle, a dice game Josh had brought along. We had been playing throughout the trip, and though winning mostly depends on luck, there’s an element of risk-taking involved so I was constantly loosing. I insisted that we construct a makeshift cribbage board using some paper and rocks so I could be victorious for a change (I never loose at cribbage). Naturally, I won, but for some reason, we reverted back to playing Farkle for the remainder of the trip. Our final objective was to prep me for my first trad lead the next day. I had pointed out an aesthetic line up a flat, low angle ridge, west of Ducky’s Wild Ride, and Josh thought it had great potential for me to finally get on the sharp end. We went over anchor principles, gear placements, and general concepts for leading in the back country, like not sending rocks tumbling down on your follower, while hiding in the tent from the hordes of mosquitoes.

Anxious and excited for what the next day would hold, I slept surprising well our last night in the Mosquito Pit. Our plan was to put up the shorter route and then head back to camp, pack up, and start the long trek back to the car.  My anticipation about donning the shiny hula-hoop of gear faded as we got to the base of the ridge and my nerves took over.  Josh gave me some final words of encouragement, and I started blazing up the route. By blazing, I mean moving ridiculous slow and trying my whole gambit of cam sizes in each crack.  Eventually, I made it up to the crux of the first pitch, a small roof. I sat there for a while trying to find the perfect piece to protect the move, and after overcoming the roof it was just a few more yards to the belay ledge I was gunning for. I built my first trad anchor and brought up Josh who had been patiently belaying. We climbed a couple more pitches to the summit, refueled, and then proceed to boot ski down the gully we had glisaded a few days before. Progression! We named the ridge Jenny’s Training Day (5.6, III).  We headed back to camp to pack up, excited that our big packs would be much lighter than when we had last worn them.

I like that Jenny still doesn’t even know that on her first trad lead she was simul-climbing.  She’ll figure it out when she reads this.  She ran out of rope gunning for a ledge, and instead of having her stop, I just started climbing behind her.  What she doesn’t know won’t kill her, right?

We had hoped our packs would be magically lighter for the hike out, but unfortunately they were still monsters with so much climbing gear.  We reversed our way up the unnamed pass with the dihedral, Mather Pass, and ended up camping in the exact place we had camped the 2nd night.  This strategy meant that we would be descending South Fork Pass in the morning while it was still frozen, before it started bombarding rocks.  This strategy made the descent much easier and safer than before, and we were through by early morning.  The remaining 5 miles of downhill travel were miserable.  It took our suffering to a new level.  Our feet were in agony, legs exhausted, and shoulders screaming with pain.  Our joy of reaching the car cannot be expressed.  We immediately headed for the nearest pizza, and devoured our first real food in over a week.

We learned quite a few things on this foray into the mountains:

I should check Jenny’s pack BEFORE we leave the car to ensure she does not have a pack towel AND a mini pack towel!

It is ALWAYS easier than it looks (with the exception of South Fork Pass in the afternoon).

If you leave the trail, talus will, in fact, become your habitat.

Don’t bring climbing gear “just in case.”  If you need it, come back on the next trip with it…

Use chapstick every day, all day

1lb of Jetboil fuel was WAY too much!  And we brought 2lbs…..  :(

Filtering water is not necessary when away from trails, neither of us got sick drinking straight from lakes and streams.

Mountain House > Backpacker’s Pantry

Jenny looks funny with mosquito bites on her forehead

Josh is weak like a kitten (at altitude).

Josh & Jenny

BEYONDgear and the Centro de Escalada Urbana Climbing School in the favelas (slums) of Rio de Janeira

Watch the BEYONDgear: Beginnings Video

Read further to learn the full story or go DIRECTLY TO THE CAMPAIGN to get yourself some BEYONDgear and help fund a climbing wall in the favelas.

It is June, 2010. As I jump onto the back of Andrew’s motorcycle, the Rio de Janeiro traffic morphs from a mechanism of stress and tried patience into an exhilarating game of life and death. I am immediately intrigued and terrified by Andrew’s courage as he weaves in and out of the anti-lanes that compose Rio’s hectic transit. We arrive at our destination, Rocinha: a slum of roughly 200,000 residents of which some refer to as the largest single slum in Brazil. We are meeting with a local community figure to discuss our idea for a program to utilize rock climbing on the granite domes situated just above the Rocinha community to help the at risk youth who reside there. It is the first time we entered Rocinha and the start to a new direction in my life. Based on our own positive experiences with the sport, we believe that climbing can provide the passion needed for some of the favela youth to rise above the crime, drugs, and prejudice to overcome the barriers to their dreams.

As Andrew and I enter the favela, I think to myself, “this place is no different than the rest of Brazil” then a boy who could not be much older than 16 walks by with a smile from ear to ear and a machine gun around his neck and I realize the reality of violence that is so prevalent in this world. Rocinha seems to function, void of police yes, but small businesses are present, electricity, plumbing & other infrastructure exists. There is even a Bob’s fast food chain and a bank within the community. There is a code of law here, however strange and wild it appears.

Andrew Lenz is a local climbing guide in Rio. I met him in 2010 through a friend who mentioned that we both held a similar vision: to leverage the natural climbing resources of Rio to help at-risk kids in the favelas (slums). Upon meeting Andrew in person, I immediately knew I found a partner. Shortly there after, we joined up to begin formulating our dream: a program that would take the youth of Rocinha off the streets and into their own backyard of spectacular climbing. My new partner was no stranger to the favelas of Rio. Having created a successful photography program as the Brazil Director for the international NGO, Schools Without Borders, Andrew had seen the beaming smiles that photography brought to the faces of his students. He had also seen the frustrations of the politics within the favela communities and the destruction of police-gang violence. In just the favelas of Rio, some 6,000 young people ages 10 to 18 serve as “soldiers” in drug militias, according to a report by British anthropologist Luke Dowdney.

The Favelas of Rio

That was in 2010, when drug lords still controlled the Rocinha favela. In November of 2011, a raid involving more than 3,000 security officers ousted Rocinha’s infamous “Friends of Friends” gang and jailed their kingpin, Nem. Beginning in the 1950’s, a flood of immigrants from the Northeast of Brazil began to settle in Rio de Janeiro looking for work. They inhabited the unsettled hillsides close to the city. Rocinha became the largest of these settlements. Traditionally, favelas have operated under the “pay no taxes receive no services” unwritten agreement. Today, due to global pressure from hosting the Olympics and World Cup and because some of the best real estate in all of South America are located in favelas, the Brazilian government is attempting to take back these neighborhoods from the mega-gangs and with more success than most expected. The clean up efforts by the government are concentrated in favelas near the rich, South part of Rio, leaving the poorer North and West zones in a state of the wild-west. As gang members are displaced, they continue to migrate to the North Zone, away from the city center in the South, making Rio more and more segregated. Despite the unfortunate effects of such an effort, most Brazilians are highly supportive and see these efforts as a necessary step towards a safer future, and they have strong reason to believe that.

The Start of a Program

My obsession with Brazil, especially Rio de Janeiro, spans back to the year 2000, when I was a foreign exchange student during high school in a small Brazilian Guacho town. Since then, I have traveled to Brazil 10 times, explored the best climbing throughout the largest country in South America, and together with Andrew, created a program that will change the way kids from the slums of Rio interact with the mountains just above their community.

The idea to use climbing in the favelas began in 2003, during a semester abroad studying engineering in Southern Brazil. After the end of my internship, I spent two months climbing around Brazil living on the road out of a small VW Gol, which was stolen two days before returning to the States. While in Rio de Janeiro, I was blown away by the legendary granite that erupts from within its urban sprawl. I discovered that while Rio is a city famous for its beaches, music, thongs and nightlife, it may also have the best urban climbing in the world. The granite peaks of Rio, picturesquely positioned between tropical beaches and towering buildings, create the city’s unique beauty. On the slopes of these peaks, massive favelas have spawned from decades of Brazilian social inequalities.  Unfortunately, the obvious and real danger of crime and violence associated with the favelas has acted as a natural deterrent for most climbers when they consider visiting the granite routes of the Rio.

I spent my first climbs exploring the famous Pão de Açucar (Sugarloaf Peak). Close to 1,000 feet of beautiful granite with beer and a cable car waiting at the summit was hard to beat anywhere. But after a few climbs, I was ready to try something more epic. I was naturally attracted to the beautiful peaks at the end of the crowded Ipanema-Leblon beach, the Dois Irmãos (Two Brothers Peaks).  Asking some of my local Brazilian climbing buddies, they told me it was too dangerous due to roving bands of kids with guns. Frustrated that I could not climb a beautiful peak due to crime, I decided to investigate a solution. I realized that the local resource for climbing presented a unique opportunity for kids from the slums of Rio to replace the risks of drugs, violence, and gangs, with the healthier risks of rock climbing and adventure. Once this idea set in, there was no turning back. I applied unsuccessfully for a Zack Martin Breaking Barriers grant in 2003 and 2009. Despite my failure to gain support for the project, I never lost sight. The idea to use the climbing around Rio to help kids from the slums just made too much sense.

After receiving a Young Explorers Award from National Geographic in 2008 to attempt a first ascent on a remote Amazonian peak, things started to fall in place. Nat Geo set me up with a sponsorship from Kiehl’s (a high-end cosmetics company) which allowed me to return to Rio in 2010. It was on this trip that I met Andrew and we teamed up to start the Centro de Escalada Urbana (CEU). ‘CEU’ translates from Portuguese to symbolically mean ‘sky’. In 2011, we were awarded the Zack Martin Breaking Barriers Grant from the American Alpine Club, and the program was immediately jump-started.

CEU’s mission is to create an opportunity for kids from the slums of Rio to have access to outdoor sports, in essence, to use adventure for good. CEU currently works with a group of 15 students to develop rock climbing skills and introduce them to outdoor adventure, education, and leadership. CEU has partnered with the Rocinha Surf School, SUDERJ (the government arm of Rio in charge of sports), as well as Petzl, Black Diamond, and some American climbing wall design firms to develop a state of the art climbing gym in a community center adjacent to the Rocinha Favela.

Back in 2011, I attempted to build a climbing wall in Rocinha with the help of a few friends. This ended in frustration mostly due to governmental bureaucracy. After painful meetings and much administrative run around, CEU has secured a beautiful space in a government sports complex just across from Rocinha. This space has 50 foot high walls and runs 100 feet long. It is the prefect location for a top quality, professional climbing wall. A wall like this would provide much needed publicity for CEU as well as an ideal and safe location for teaching climbing to all skill levels.

After my experiences in Brazil, I knew I wanted to cultivate the concept of using adventure for good. My thoughts needed a physical manifestation that would allow for a scalable method to fund our project in Rio and beyond. My ideas grew wings spawned by the social enterprise movement so vibrant today and BEYONDgear Inc. was born.

BEYONDgear Inc. is a social enterprise that sells lifestyle adventure gear. For ever dollar of profit earned, BEYONDgear gives a dollar to projects that use adventure for good, beginning with CEU’s climbing wall in Rio. By creating a brand of adventure gear that allows adventure enthusiasts to participate in sharing their positive experiences in the outdoors with kids who would never have that opportunity otherwise, we can generate an entire movement to use adventure for good. In my mind, BEYONDgear goes beyond violence, beyond bureaucracy, and beyond climbing, giving at-risk kids the opportunity to get beyond psyched!

My cancer diagnosis and its implications have had quite an effect on me. Being the patient was novel and unsettling as I’m usually on the other side of the healthcare system. The experience has also instilled in me an understanding of the privileges I had been enjoying and taking for granted. Working is a privilege. Exercising is a privilege. Playing in nature like we do is a privilege. Not having pain is a privilege. Health is a privilege. These are things I cannot take for granted anymore.

This being Pullharder, I’ve decided to exercise another privilege I may not have in the future: setting a goal. One thing I had always promised myself was that I would run a marathon, but I have always deferred. And let’s be honest, I’m not built to be an endurance runner. I would have an easier time training to bench-press 400lbs. With this diagnosis, I feel like I can’t push my marathon goal back anymore. On top of that, I can’t help but think back to one of my last conversations with Ben before he left for Peru. Karen and I ran into Ben in the parking lot outside of a restaurant and we chatted for about a half hour mostly about running. The things I remember most about that conversation were the passion in Ben’s eyes discussing endurance running and his inspirational words for both Karen and me. He was full of encouragement for us and was looking to share with us a spark of his running fire.

Well it worked since I’ve decided that a fitting goal would be the LA marathon on 3/17/13 with a time of less than 4:20. The LA marathon has always been the premier running event on the West Coast for me, probably since I grew up there. I’ve already begun training and am amazed at my distance and time gains already. I’m always looking for training partners and runs so any tips would be appreciated. Mostly, I’m using this: http://www.marathonrookie.com/marathon-training.html although I’ve been surpassing their distances for these first couple weeks. The coming weeks will contain some busy ones with work that won’t leave me much time to train but I am optimistic I’ll reach my goal. I’m reminded of “It doesn’t have to be fun to be fun.” For me, it will be all fun and I wish Ben were here to see it.

Top images show the malignant tumor, bottom show what normal should look like

Monica, Ben, Kate, Shay, Rick, and I enjoying the couch

We would like to thank everyone who helped out:

Kristi, Matt Palmariello, Laurel, Miki, Stein, our photographer Andre Kiryanov,

as well as our sponsors Injinji who hooked us up with great socks and GU as well as Wet N’ Reckless who hooked us up with nutritious beer!

Finally, we are humbled to present this years results: WOOT WOOT Results here

Here is a video and some pictures so you may never for get this day!  If you would like a full-size image please email me (rsgutier [at] gmail.com)

More pics on Roberto’s Picasa. Leave a comment with a link to your pics if you want to share! Sharing is caring!

THANK YOU!

Tragedy
The call came the way we always imagine it will, but never expect.  It’s Asa.  He’s concerned about Gil, he hasn’t heard from him in awhile.  He lays the cold hard facts out, one by one.  Gil and Ben are several days overdue in Peru.  Gil’s flight is scheduled to leave in a few days, but no one has heard from them.  They are probably fine, he emphasizes, but just in case he’s working to organize a search team.  We’ll all have a good laugh when we get to the bottom of this, he assures me.  I listen, and speak some words, but we both know he’s dealing from a stacked deck.  I hang up, and collapse into tears.

The memorial
What follows fades into a blur.  The Tomnod search, the national media blitz, the valiant efforts of the rescue team.  Finally, our worst fears are confirmed. Gil and Ben are gone. Gil – my friend, my brother in arms, and Ben – the de-facto spiritual center of Pull harder – are both dead.  I struggle to comprehend and make sense of this event, one of the most significant of my life.  On a beautiful Saturday morning in August, we hold a memorial service for Gil at the base of the Flatirons, one of the places he loved most.  After a group solo of Gil’s favorite climb, the First Flatiron, we scatter some of his ashes from the summit.  Collectively, our friends vow to scatter his remaining ashes amongst the three other places he cherished most: the Cordillera Blanca of Peru, Colorado’s Rocky Mountain National Park, and the Sierra Nevada of California.

The objective
I moved to Boulder in 2009 after 9 years in San Diego, looking forward to the next stage of my life, but also leaving behind many great, inspiring climbing partners and friends, and also my favorite mountain range on planet earth, the Sierra Nevada.  Every summer, I try to make it back home.

Tehipite Dome has long been on my bucket list.  Any climber with an adventurous spirit who has perchanced across R.J. Secor’s succinct description in the High Sierra guidebook cannot help but become infatuated: “This is the largest dome in the Sierra Nevada.  There is an outstanding view from it’s summit“.  Rising 3800 feet above Tehipite Valley, Tehipite Dome commands a larger vertical rise than El Capitan.  The three most impressive Sierra valleys are reputed to be Yosemite Valley, King’s Canyon and Tehipite Valley.  However, in contrast to Yosemite and King’s Canyon, no roads approach Tehipite Valley.  Thus, to even catch a glimpse of this spectacular canyon one must first hike 14 miles.  Such remoteness has long dissuaded prospective suitors.  In 50 years there have been less than perhaps a dozen technical ascents of Tehipite Dome (furthermore, as far as we could discern from the summit register, they have all been first ascents).

The team
The plan was theoretically simple.  Hire a horse packer to carry 2 weeks of supplies in, establish a  base camp at the top of the Dome, perform recon and put up a proud line.  I first met Shaun through Gil when I moved to Boulder, and was impressed by his adventurous spirit and commitment to new routing.  Like myself, Sean was close to GIl.  In 2010, Sean, Gil and Logan climbed the Shield together, spending a week battling stormy weather and finally topping out after climbing through a raging waterfall on the headwall, and bivying in a snowbank on the summit of El Cap.   When I outlined my plan to Shaun, he agreed to join immediately.  Our decision was further emboldened by an expansive photo essay published in Climbing Magazine detailing Rob Pizem and company’s 2010 trip where they established a new line, Tehipite Sanction (5.12, 12 pitches, 1200 feet) on what Pizem called the best stone he’d ever climbed on.

When Brad committed to join the trip, the final puzzle piece fell into place.  Brad is a strong, bold climber from the South who has been on the mythical “endless climbing roadtrip” for the last few years.  He was close with both Ben and Gil, with whom he had ticked the complete Palisade traverse earlier in the year.  All three of us felt spiritually aligned with the core trip objective, which was to establish the most classic first ascent possible in honor of our fallen comrades.

The climb
After flying in to Fresno and getting picked up by Brad, we emarked upon a blitzkrieg mission for supplies at REI, Trader Joe’s and the liquor store.  Next, we met up with Allan Clyde, local horsepacker extraordinaire and also a podiatrist (foot surgen) near Wishon Reservoir.  A classic western figure, Allan didn’t seem disturbed in the least when we showed up at his headquarters with several hundred pounds of gear and supplies, including a disproportionate amount of alcohol, to fuel our 12 days in the backcountry.  After a leisurely 14 miles without packs, we rejoined Clyde and managed to pitch camp in an incredible location, right next to the shoulder of Tehipite Dome and overlooking the sweeping grandeur of Tehipite Valley.  We spent the next several days reconing possible new lines, but eventually settled upon a new route on the southeast buttress of Tehipite Dome.  After equipping the line, we went for the redpoint, climbing the entire 11 pitch (1700 foot) route in a day without falls.  Following a day of rest, we returned to shoot some photos, retrieve our gear, and to scatter Gil’s ashes from the summit.  In 12 days in the backcountry, we had splitter weather (not a single storm, in fact barely a cloud the entire time) and  no other people except for one group of Sierra club hikers.  Many hours of campfire discussion were spent discussing possible route names, but in the end we settled on “Astro-Gil” as a fitting tribute to our friend, and named a key feature on the route the “Honey Badger Traverse” in honor of Ben.  ( Also of note is the “Gil Weiss Memorial Offwidth” on pitch 2.)

Reflections on adventure, friendship and loss

It is difficult for me to express in a trip report the impact that Gil had on my life, and how he touched those around him.  I know climbing and the pursuit of adventure were things Gil held dear, but more than that, I know that his friends and family formed the foundation for his life. I don’t have a really good point here, other than to say that I am grateful for my friends and family (even if I haven’t talked to you in some time), I cherish you now more than ever, and that Sarah: I love you and I am excited for next summer.  Going on this trip reminded me of how great it is to be alive, and how fortunate we are to have climbing, adventure and friends.  Brad and Shaun: I had a great time on our trip and I think Gil would be proud….

Hello all,

This post is an update about the forthcoming Pullharder.org marathon.  As you may, or may not, know this year’s race will be held in memory of our friends Ben Horne and Gil Weiss.  In this post I am including two things, first is a video of with images sampled from the internet as a tribute to Ben and Gil; Second, is all the pertinent information that you will need for this race.

This post will mark a new era at Pullharder.org.  Many things have changed around here, but many things have not.  When it comes to life and adventure we will always surround ourselves with the greatest people and seek the boldest adventure, all while smiling and wearing tights…but we will never forget our friends.  As we move forward we see each and every one of you as a friend and motivation to get out and chase the next big thing.  So thank you!

Race information:

IMPORTANT STUFF BEFORE YOU GET HERE:
This is an unsupported, unsponsored event, and you will be responsible for your own water.  That being said, there will be water at the Start/Finish line, as well as some energy foods.  These foods are primarily for the marathoners who will be passing by the start/finish line 2 times before they finish.
Furthermore, you are responsible for following the courses.  We will have chalk arrows on the ground to indicate where major turns are, but this is a trail run and it does wander through Peneqsuitos Canyon, so we recommend that you read the following course descriptions and look at the course maps.

Click here for Descriptions

Links to course maps:
PullHarder Marathon
Loop 1:  http://connect.garmin.com/activity/49822001
Loop 2:  http://connect.garmin.com/activity/49822001
Loop 3:  http://connect.garmin.com/activity/49822007

PullHarder 10 Mile Run
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/49822001

PullHarder Waterfall 10K
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/49822007

IMPORTANT STUFF FOR RACE DAY:
The location:  Shay’s House–>  8551 Menkar Rd San Diego CA 92126

Schedule:

7-7:30am	Race check-in
7:35am	Pre-race briefing
7:45am	We will start lining up
8:00am	Race start! We will be using an atomic clock as our timing device…this will be the official timing tool.
FINISH	The finish line is a slip’n’slide…no slip’n’slide, no official time!
After you finish	There will be short yoga/stretching classes being held in the living room to help people stretch out and decompress a little after their run! (Thanks Kati) After the race you are welcome to use the showers and other facilities at the house to get cleaned up for the BBQ.  Remember that the finish line is a slip’n’slide so you will want a towel regardless.
Whenever you would like	We have had a keg of Wet’n’Reckless beer donated to the event.  The only requirement is that the keg be empty by the end of the day!!!  So start whenever you want
12:00pm	BBQ food!  Eat and be merry with good friends and competitors alike.
2:00pm  (approximately)	Presentation of the awards!  The BBQ should be in full swing and the prizes will be awarded to the fast male and female for each distance.
End of the day	We will be there at least till the keg is gone.

The BBQ is bring your own food and bring your own beer.  There will some chicken and other foods as a base, but we are not planning on feeding you.  There will be a keg  beer, which needs to be finished by the end of the day, but if you want anything else you need to bring it.

There will be a professional photographer taking pictures of the racers, so remember to LOOK GOOD!  As part of the entertainment during the BBQ we will be playing a slide show of the race photos.

We are hosting this event at no cost, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t cost anything…If you feel so inclined, any donations of time or money would be greatly appreciated.  If for some reason the money collected exceeds the costs of the event it will be donated to a nonprofit climbing organization such as ACSD or Access Fund.

Volunteers:  All of the race organizers are also running in the race.  So there may be stations or times where we need people to hang out and watch an aid station of just to help with something.  If anyone not running and would like to help we would appreciate it.  Also, if you have finished the race early we encourage you to stick around and cheer for other racers and to help if you can.  The jobs could include mixing Gatorade, helping keep time, helping keep track of people, taking pictures and so on…

We placed an order for T-Shirts (this year’s logo is at the top of the page)!  We will be selling them the day of the race so bring a little cash.  We are going to charge as little as possible for the shirts I estimate between $10-20 per shirt (emphasis on estimate).  If there are any profits the proceeds will go towards supporting nonprofit groups in the climbing community.

We are incredibly excited for this event and we hope you are too!
See you all on Sunday morning between 7-7:30am

Josh
Roberto
Shay
Toby

We recently received an email from Eric Tomczak, who was one of the original 3 members of the search and rescue team that went out to find Ben and Gil in Peru. We published his email below in its entirety along with his account of the search.

————–Email to Pullharder from Eric on August 2, 2012——————

Let me start of with my deepest condolences to all who were close to Ben and Gil. I hope everyone has had a chance to have a quiet moment somewhere in the mountains to say goodbye to our friends.

My name is Eric. I didn’t know Gil very well, just well enough to like him quite a bit. You could see his enthusiasm for life in the mountains, as well as the yearning to share it with others, right away. I knew Ben even less, but he struck me as a committed, determined alpinist whose goal was to get out and get up. I wish I had more time to get to know these two. Life, or more accurately death, works in unfortunate ways sometimes.

I was on the rescue team that went out to find out what happened to Ben and Gil. There has been a lot of speculation and questions about their passing, and I feel it’s my responsibility to tell some of the story. If my best friend died in the mountains, and someone had the answers to my questions, I would want them to tell the story.

I’m writing to ask if you will publish this for me. I think your site is a central location for those who knew them to be able to see it. If you would rather not, that’s entirely alright. I just need somewhere to put the story. What follows is what I’m looking to publish.

————————————————————————————————————————

Two and a half weeks ago, the climbing world lost two dedicated, enthusiastic and driven alpinists. The whole world lost two amazing people, and many of us lost two friends. Ben Horne and Gil Weiss passed in a climbing accident in mid July, and a rescue team found their bodies on the 28th.

I was part of the team that went in to find Ben and Gil, found them, and consequently accompanied their bodies out of the Cojup valley. I’m writing this article to hopefully answer some questions that their closest friends have about the accident. I’ve only just arrived back in the United States, and I can see that the information about the accident has been limited. This is a short personal account of what happened. None of the conclusions I’ve drawn are fact. They’re just what I think based on what I saw firsthand. I hope the information helps. The following is an adaptation of an email I sent out to some others as to what happened.

The alarm was raised two days before Gil’s flight was set to go back to the states. Asa Firestone, (who I had met earlier during his trip) and I talked about it and decided to assemble a search team and go in. There’s an American guy here, Ted, who got involved that same day. Ted is extremely experienced in these mountains, as well as very good with logistics. He runs an adventure company here in Huaraz, and has lots of connections locally. He took this thing and ran with it. He’s in the middle of recovering from some burns so he ran our Huaraz home base. While being in surgery for aforementioned burns! The guy is amazing.

After talking with me and Asa, Ted arranged for two guides to join the rescue team. Hector would be the leader of the team, with the most experience. I was in charge of communications and logistics, carrying a satellite phone with me at all times. Henry was the link between the two of us, speaking both English and Spanish, as well as being an experienced climber. The three of us would be accompanied by a porter and an arriaro (cowboy, or burro driver). The five of us would make up the rescue team. We left that afternoon, and were in base camp in the Cojup valley that night. The videos you may have seen of the “rescue team” leaving to look for Ben and Gil is stock footage of some south american policemen walking around in the mountains.

We left early the next morning (3:00 am or so) to look for Ben and Gil’s camp at the base of Palcaraju Oeste. After several hours of hiking, we found their camp near the West end of the glacier. Their things were strewn around almost exactly like they had left for a climb and simply never come back. We left their things and went onto the ice. We spent the rest of the day walking around on the glacier, following tracks and looking up various potential routes with binoculars. At this point we had almost nothing to go off of except some 2 week old tracks. Mid afternoon, I got information from Asa (via Ted, via sat phone) that he thinks they got into trouble on the decent, via a ridge to the West of us. We hiked up into a col to look at the ridge. Immediately, we saw tracks leading from the summit, and disappearing halfway down. The end of the day was drawing near, so we descended to Ben and Gil’s camp, packed up their things, and descended to the valley floor.

The next day, we were almost out of food, and by that point had gone about 25 kilometers with probably 1800M of vertical gain in the past 24 hours, so we were tired. We took a day to wait for more supplies, and prepared to move our camp higher, closer to the mountain. 7 Peruvian Policia also showed up on this day, and joined the search effort. Food came in, we got more sleep, and left early again the next morning.

The plan was for me to stay in Ben and Gil’s high camp, while Henry and Hector took climbing gear and climbed the ridge to where the tracks ended. We had radios to stay in communication, and I had the sat phone. My plan was to get back on the glacier while they were climbing, and inspect the base of their decent ridge on the South side. While I was waiting for the sun to rise, I inspected the ridge again from the camp and saw tracks that we hadn’t seen before going further down the ridge. They ended at the edge of a hanging serac, and there was evidence of sliding leading towards the cliff on the South side of the ridge. With something to go on, I headed onto the glacier.

About this time, an airplane to look for the missing climbers showed up overhead. I made my way to a vantage point on the glacier where I could see the base of the ridge. I saw one spot that looked as though something large had fallen in the snow, with something dark showing in it. I made my way up and around the crevasses, via a safe route, towards the base of the ridge. The plane continued to make close passes overhead. I came over a rise, and had a better view of the first thing I’d seen in the snow, and saw a second one closer. I made my way towards them, and Ben’s backpack came into view poking out of the closest impact point. As I approached, I could see Gil’s boot sticking out of the second impact point, 30 meters further. Their things were scattered all over the slope, and Ben’s backpack was shredded.

I called it in on the sat phone, and made my way back down to the glacier to radio Hector and Henry to descend. They came and joined me and we went to document the scene. After doing so, we exhumed the bodies of Ben and Gil. It was late by that point, so we left the glacier. Waiting for us at the edge of the glacier were Adam and Jared. Friends of the boys who had come to help us out. They decided to stay at the high camp and join us in our work the next day. We descended to middle camp, where the porters had moved all of our stuff to. The 7 policia were also there, and we prepared to get them to help us move the bodies down the next day.

Another early start, and we had both bodies off the glacier by about noon. Adam helped me inventory all the things found on, with, and around the bodies. The police helped move Gil from the glacier to our middle camp, and we loaded him onto a donkey around early afternoon. By this point, I was trying to leave the valley to get to my bus and get to Lima for my flight home. I accompanied Gil’s body with the arriaro and the donkeys towards base camp with the intention of getting to base and out that night. However, about halfway down, it got far too steep for the donkey and I had to call in more people to help us get Gil down. We used ropes to lower him down the grassy slopes, and finally had the body in base by about 6:00 that night. Having taken far longer than expected, I stayed in the valley another night.

At around midnight or 1:00am, Henry and Hector showed up with 6 new porters (who were supposed to show up sooner) and Ben’s body. They had descended about 1000 meters over terrible terrain, late into the night to finish the job. The next morning, we loaded up the donkeys with the bodies and were on our way. I accompanied the first, and we both arrived at the road around 9:00am in the morning. I caught a taxi that had been arranged for me, and went into Huaraz to debrief with Ted.

Our best theory of what happened, based on where the tracks end, where the faint sliding marks are, and where we found Ben and Gil, is that they were descending the ridge on the Western side, above the cliffs. From the Western side, it would have been difficult to see how overhanging and fragile the ridge they were on actually was. The tracks end in the bottom edge of the ridge where I believe part of the snow may have collapsed. If that happened, it would have dropped the leader (Ben) about 6 meters, pulling the second forward off his feet. Gil would have had less than 20 meters on very steep terrain to self arrest before dropping off the cliff side of the ridge. The rope was severed, probably quite high up, and both climbers tumbled an estimated 200 meters coming to rest in the snow below. Judging by what I saw, I’m pretty sure they were both dead before they hit the snow. It all must have happened very fast.

I hope this sheds some light on the events that took place in the Cojup valley. Some sense of closure certainly helped me get through this dark time, and my best wishes go out to those still dealing with this. For what it’s worth, I’m not religious, but I asked for a moment of silence and said a few words for each of my friends after digging them out. In ancient Egypt, they would place a coin in the mouth of one who had passed, payment for the boatman to take them across the river Styx to the next world. Adam gave me a Snickers bar and a bag of peanut M&Ms to throw into the crevasse below their final resting place. Perhaps this is our modern equivalent; snacks so that our friends can keep on hiking, wherever they go.

Photo from Andre Kiryanov at www.aktionphoto.com

If a desire for devastation dances in the deepest depths of your soul, the time for action is upon you!  For those of you who are not familiar with the PHM, it is a self-supported race that we have hosted for the past two years.  It begins and ends at 8551 Menkar Rd, and culminates with an award ceremony and drinking, which typically includes a keg of Stone beer.  This year it will be taking place on Sunday, October 21st.

We have 3 distances, just click on the links below to see each course:

10 K

10 Mile

Full Marathon (2 loops of the 10 mile and 1 loop of the 10k, see links above)

We will have food and a sports drink at the house to refuel between each loop of the full marathon.

Sign up by clicking HERE!

For a training calendar for the full marathon CLICK HERE.

For other training options, CLICK HERE.

For motivational tales to get you inspired watch the video below!

If you’re not inspired by that, perhaps this race is not for you?

This year’s PullHarder Marathon is in memory of Ben and Gil.  They were amazing people, who did amazing things; Ben holds the PullHarder Marathon course record.  Hopefully they’ll inspire you to train harder, meet your potential, and set a personal record, whatever that may be.

Start training, and we’ll see you on the trail!

~The Pullharder Crew