Curtain Call

Do I have a self-satisfied smile on my face? Well let me see, why yes I do. I ticked off a personal climbing milestone on Sunday by climbing Curtain Call. This isn't the "BIG" objective but something I have wanted to do for 2 years now. I've driven by this large ice climb on my way to smaller climbs, climbs within my ability. But always, I would look up at Curtain Call and wonder when I was going to climb THAT one.

Sunday Colin and I meet up and leave Calgary at 4:30am. We have to drive 4hours to get there. I feel like crap, which is par for the course when I have to get up at such an ungodly hour like 3:45am. I got to bed at 9:00 so feel like I had a decent amount of sleep. But still, a headache and unsettled stomach are with me. I ignore the feelings since I know they will most likely disappear once I get outside.

We get to the area where the climb is easily visible from the road. While the climb is within sight, it also looks waaaay up high. We will have to travel through the trees before getting to the rock/scree slope to head straight up to the base. I estimate about 30 minutes of torture to get there. Short term pain for long term gain.

We begin our walk and Colin is talking about future plans for the summer/fall. Perhaps the Bugaboos in early August when I get back from Mongolia. But for sure the Bugaboos in late September to have a crack at some mixed routes. The Bugaboos always hold a siren song for me so I am interested in what Colin has to say, although I suspect that the objectives he has in mind will be difficult.

We are both pleasantly surprised that the approach to the base of Curtain Call wasn't as bad as we feared. I had changed packs to a lighter, smaller pack and paired down what I carried to lighten the overall weight. This was a test run for my "BIG" climb. I suspected that the lighter load and the fact that I have lost about 6lbs made the approach easier.

But back to the climb. Curtain Call loomed high above us and was truly spectacular to look at. Large mushrooms, pillars of ice and these interesting formations that looked like giant albino candy corn, if that makes any sense!

Colin starts out and I begin to appreciate the difficulty of my upcoming pitch based on how long it is taking him to lead. Finally I hear the call that it is my turn to climb. I start up and encounter the big-ass mushrooms. Tapping these with my ice axe produces a hollow sound which is not encouraging. I find that I can hook my axes overtop of them and if I keep the pressure consistent with a locked off arm, I can make my way up. They don't like to be kicked by a crampon either. Cranky mushrooms they were. So that meant high stepping, drop knees and creative placement of tools. There was not much swinging going on, just looking for decent places to put my axes. I appreciate the time it took Colin to lead. Placing protection could not have been easy, demonstrated by the distances between his pro. Often, the crux of a grade 6 climb is the inability to protect yourself as the lead.

This pitch forces me to use all my climbing skills and all my strength as well. I am so grateful for the brutal workouts my trainer has been putting me through. I was getting tired no doubt, but there was no desperate struggles as there would have had I been climbing this the previous season. I take my time, rest on some of mushrooms and keep going. I ignore the fatigue and try not to be discouraged as I see how far I still have to go to reach Colin.

We get to the second belay. Colin navigates around a fragile looking curtain with ice mushrooms that look like blown glass. It is one of the most spectacular places to be. Colin moves much quicker on this pitch so I know the ice must be easier. Or at the very least it is taking protection better than the first pitch. Navigating around a curtain of ice is tricky business, especially when one is as thin as this. No one wants a shit-load of ice to drop on them while kicking or swinging at it. Ice has been know to cut rope and I have no desire to test that theory. I climb gently, placing my feet rather than kicking and softly finding holds for my ice axes. This requires core strength and strong arms. Again, Nathan I thank you for all those hellish leg lifts on the incline bench.

The sheer length of the pitch is tiring me out, it is 55m of fucking, unrelenting steep, there are no more mushrooms to stand on. I feel myself slowing down and I know this is not the right approach. The longer I stay in one place the faster my arms will pump out. I look up at the draws extending above my head. I say to myself "Time to take this home Lise" and I start to climb, I don't stop. I swing, I kick, I swing. My breath is getting ragged and I keep going knowing the faster I climb the faster I am done. A few times my feet skate out from under me and I am holding my body weight with my arms. But I don't fall, I pull my feet back, getting them attached to the ice and keep climbing. I top out and see Colin. He says "What's that heavy breathing for?" Funny guy that Colin.

We quickly begin our raps down. They are a heart-pounding affair as I am REALLY not wanting to hit the thin curtains of ice or disrupt any daggers. Yet I have to gently touch them with my feet to keep moving down the ice. At every belay I can feel the adrenaline pumping through me. Rappelling is dangerous business, more accidents and fatalities are the result of rappelling. I think that some of it must be that the climbers are tired, they want to be done and perhaps loose their vigilance. I have no intention of being one of those statistics.

Everything goes well and soon we are walking back down the approach. We are both pleased with the climb and are talking about how much we liked it, what made the climb unique, how it reminded us of different climbs etc, etc. We are on that post-climb-happy-high that keeps climbers coming back for more. We crack open a beer when we get to the car and pack up our stuff. But we linger, looking at the climb both happy with how we did.

I felt good about my strength on this climb. It was a good warm up for my big objective next weekend. However this day was less than half of my anticipated climb next weekend. That is sobering to me and fills me with a combination of excitement and dread.