by Andy Selters
TWO-PERSON PARTIES
To team up with just one partner on a glacier excursion calls for some serious thought. While it's not unreasonable to assume that in typical circumstances each member of a pair will be able to hold the other's crevasse falls, the two need to ask themselves if they can reasonably expect to then anchor the rope while holding the other's weight, and then extricate the partner: Because this prospect is too demanding to be realistic for many people, in the prudent days of yore no one ventured onto a snow-covered glacier in a party of fewer than three (or so the old-timers claim).
Today two-person parties are common, partly because better techniques and equipment make the prospect safer, but mostly because climbers are either willing to take more risk or don't realize the greater risk they take. In particular the push to do more technical routes—where the most efficient team size is two—has put more solitary pairs on glaciers. Most climbers, if they think about it much, assume that they travel with the safety net of their partner anchoring them off and potentially rescuing them. However although single-handed rescue is possible, relatively few climbers know how demanding it can be. All prospective two-person parties should know the advanced rescue techniques outlined in Chapter 4.
“Anyone who ventures alone on a snow-covered glacier, whatever his skill, is giving to everybody, except himself, a proof that he lacks the chief virtue of a mountaineer, judgement.”
—Geoffrey Winthrop Young, I946. Mountaincraft.
Assuming that two climbers are sufficiently competent, each member should tie in with ample spare rope to reach the other should he be dangling in a crevasse. On an alpine-sized glacier, a party of two can tie in 30 or 40 feet (I0-I2.5 meters) apart. On Alaskan-sized glaciers, a 60-meter (I97-foot) rope or longer is recommended, because it is long enough to allow even a long, I8-meter (60-foot) span, with 2I meters extra for each to carry.
Figure 2.1 summarizes the recommended spans between members for rope teams of various sizes. An easy way to measure off tie-in locations for teams of any number is to count arm spans: With arms outstretched, the distance from fingertip to fingertip is nearly the same as the measurer's height, so the arm span of a 6-foot man is approximately 6 feet. That's my span, so if I measure rope using my full span with a bit of, each length is about two meters. In most cases, it's most efficient to start measuring from the middle, counting off the meters toward the ends on two strands at once. See Figure 2.1 for a summary of recommended travel spans for different team sizes, rope lengths and glacier types.
SOLO GLACIER TRAVEL
Some of the greatest contemporary alpine climbers climb solo, unroped. It's said that great climbers know the crevasse hazard more intimately, so they are able to travel safely by carefully choosing when and where they go. This is true to some extent, but it's at least as true that these climbers simply are willing to take more risk. Unroped climbers generally cannot afford a single crevasse fall. While we can be impressed at the exploits of Reinhold Messner he escaped a crevasse on Mount Everest only by sheer luck. The crevasse hazard finally caught up to the great solo climber Renatto Casarotto, and it has for other experienced solo climbers as well.
Some solo climbers travel with anchored self-belay systems. One such soloist en route to Alaska's Mount Huntington fell into a nasty crevasse. Although his system worked, it took him most of a day to extricate himself and his gear, and he gave up his attempted climb.
Other Alaskan soloists fix themselves to bridging systems. In the I970s, Charlie Porter revived an old sourdough trick of traveling with a pole, in his case an aluminum one attached to his pack. The idea was that, if he fell in, the pole would bridge the crevasse and he would use it to clamber out. On a solo winter ascent of Denali, veteran climber Naomi Uemura attached two poles to his pack. Uemura never returned from this climb, but his recovered journal indicates that he fell into a crevasse at one point and the poles worked as intended.
Dave Johnston invented a more complex soloing apparatus called “Bridge-It.” This was something like a ladder with skis on both ends; he'd walk or ski between its girders, dragging it along with the idea that, should he punch in, it would bridge the crevasse and he'd walk out on it. It also served as a sled to carry his load. Since then others have used ladders to solo on glaciers. A clear disadvantage is that in order to span a crevasse the ladder must be fairly perpendicular to the slot. In general, these and other soloing methods offer a sketchy and/or unwieldy backup to those who are committed to risky travel.
KNOTS AND HARNESSES
A person on the end of a rope should tie in directly to the harness, using a proven knot like the figure-eight retrace. Teammates along the rope's span can clip a figure-eight on a bight or butterfly knot into a locking carabiner paired with a standard carabiner then reversing the two gates.
Glacier travelers need to pay special attention to their harness systems, because crevasse falls often leave one dangling in free space for a long time. In this situation two criteria are crucial to survival: that your harness support you as comfortably as possible (don't laugh!) with as much surface area as possible, and that it supports you against hanging upside down. To these ends you'll want a harness with especially broad webbing or fabric, and one whose waistband cinches just above your hipbones, supporting you with a high center of gravity (see fig. 2.2). “Swami belt” tie-ins without leg loops should never be used, for a climber dangling from one essentially hangs from the diaphragm and eventually suffocates. Harnesses improvised from runner webbing constrict circulation and should be avoided. A good test of a seat harness is to hang from a tree. If you need a lot of effort from your stomach muscles to hold yourself upright, your seat harness is inadequate.
Figure 2.2 Properly and improperly fitting waist harnesses
The concern of hanging upside down points to a significant dilemma for glacier travelers. Hanging upside-down for any extended period of time is a serious condition that can be life-threatening. A heavy pack makes flipping over increasingly likely. The best way to ensure you'll stay upright is either to wear a full-body harness, or to add a chest harness to your waist harness (see fig. 2.3). With the latter method, notice how the rope only runs through the chest harness carabiner, holding the climber's body upright, but still sending his weight to bear directly on the seat harness. Never knot the climbing rope to any chest harness because you'll end up hanging from it; at least one glacier traveler has been strangled this way. You can also add a loop to your pack's shoulder strap (see fig. 2.4). All these systems raise your tipping point to well above your center of gravity.
Figure 2.3 Improvising a chest harness
Unfortunately, this raises a paradox because what's good for holding you upright in a crevasse also makes it much more difficult for you to hold a partner's fall. With a higher tipping point, a partner's fall pulls you over much more easily, and hinders you as you try to arrest with your ice ax. There is no way to resolve the competing concerns of hanging in a slot and holding a fall, so the question of whether to use chest harnesses or not depends on the team and the glacier. The ability to stop a fall is so crucial though, that in most situations glacier travelers should tie in only with waist harnesses. Chest harnesses or similar arrangements are recommended only when you carry a heavy pack, and only when there are three or more people on the rope—plenty of holding power against falls.
Probably the strongest point to make here is that when you travel on a glacier with a large pack, it's smart to be extra cautious and to think even more carefully before you travel with just one partner.
CLOTHING
It's tough to climb in tropical temperatures and still be ready for an instant drop into a refrigerator, but often that's what glacier travel calls for: A reflecting glacier at altitude can be incredibly hot on a sunny summer day, but the temperature inside the crevasses remains around freezing or colder—hypothermia is one of the principal killers of crevasse victims. Having clothing handy in the pack is important, but too often a crevasse fall leaves
the victim wedged or partly buried, and the pack is inaccessible.
Figure 2.4 Improvising a chest harness by clipping the rope to a pack strap
The best answer is to wear clothing that ventilates. “Pit zips,” knicker socks to roll down, full-zip wind pants, and synthetic insulation make for a clothing system that's comfortable in a wide range of temperatures. A valuable item for sunny days is a thick, white shirt that will reflect the sun yet still insulate in a crevasse. Also, it's easy to keep a warm hat handy to quickly insulate your head, the part of your body that loses more heat than any other: Finally, perhaps the most important concern is that your hands be ready for work inside a crevasse. Either overdress them or carry gloves or mittens very close by—on your wrists or harness or in a pocket.
RESCUE GEAR
The final preparation before a team heads onto a glacier is to make sure they have adequate rescue gear. This gear should be evenly distributed among the party and readily accessible. Use of rescue gear will be discussed in the next chapter, but in general it should consist of prusiks, pulleys, both long and short runners and/or cordelettes, anchors appropriate to the surface conditions, belay devices, and spare carabiners. Gear loops on the harness or the bottom of the pack's shoulder straps are the best places to carry this gear. If the crevasse hazard is significant, climbers will want to tie their prusiks on the rope ahead of them, and travel with them already in place. For glaciers where the hazard is modest or minimal, and especially if there will soon be a need to switch to a whole, clean rope for technical climbing, judgement says that it's adequate to just keep the prusiks handy on the gear loops. Following these thoughts, a party of three on a temperate glacier is minimally but adequately equipped for a crevasse rescue if each member clips on a pulley, a runner an anchor and two or three spare carabiners, as well as their prusiks or ascenders. Ice axes in hand, the team is ready to embark, assuming that they know where they're going.
ROUTEFINDING
When you look up at a glaciated mountain from below you usually can't see many of the crevasses, so when you follow your planned route you'll probably come across some gaping surprises. If you can somehow get an overview of your glacier, a much more reliable route can be plotted. From an overlooking hill you can often see the patterns and concentrations of the glacier's crevasses and icefalls, as well as avalanche and serac fall zones. Aerial photos can provide the best view, and an airplane's perspective is the only high one available on big glaciers like those in Alaska and the Yukon.
Once you're underway on a route, glacier terrain can look much different than it did from far away, and you may be tempted to alter your original plans. But unless you come across barriers or options that you couldn't have seen from afar weigh heavily the wisdom of your overview.
Whether you can get an overview or not, the basic principle of routefinding is to look for the smoothest, most direct terrain to get you where you want to go. A wrinkled, broken surface will hold more crevasses and take more care to get through. The important thing is to plan the entire route as much as possible. Plot how one section should lead to the next, and the next after that, to avoid sending yourself toward a dead end. Usually there are trade-offs—going over some rougher terrain here to avoid a big ‘schrund there. Whatever scoping you do will pay off, but rarely can a route be plotted with complete certainty. It's not unusual to find a huge maw where you thought there would be easy cruising, but this is what adventure is all about, no?
Keeping track of your progress on a map can pay off if you come across features that cause you to change course, or if clouds come in and cause a whiteout.
In the winter and early spring, when snow smoothes the terrain,one can't always be sure where the simple mountain slopes end and the crevassed glacier begins. In this case, “outside” information can be the best guide, especially previous experience in the area, a good topographical map (although many glaciers have advanced or retreated dramatically since most maps were compiled), or aerial photos. Also, the lower reaches of sizable glaciers are generally confined to valleys, while almost all slopes in the upper reaches of a glacier's basin will be glaciated, crevassed terrain. When there's doubt, treat it as crevasse country and rope up.
David Wilson rappelling over a bergschrund on the west face of Yerupajá, Peru
“In making those trips over the glaciers when I passed over a crevasse I stepped pretty light. At such times I don't believe I weighed an ounce.”
—Tom Lloyd during (unroped) first
ascent of Mount McKinley, 1910. From
The Sourdough Expedition.Terrence Cole.
THE ROPE LEADER
While overall route planning usually comes out of a team discussion, the rope leader, by virtue of his or her position at the front of the party, must discover the route's details. It's he or she who decides whether to go around crevasses or over them, when to fan out en echelon (described later in this chapter), and whether or not a place is likely to be safe for gathering together
Depending on the glacier and its condition, the rope leader's job can be casual or harrowing. The leader needs to start assessing the likelihood of crevasse falls before even getting on the glacier Once underway, the leader continually evaluates the strength and predictability of the snow, taking the team either over or around snowbridges. A wise leader will take a conservative approach at first, at least until more information has been gathered along the way. If conditions are obviously solid, the leader will soon be walking or hopping across the smaller crevasses without breaking stride. If conditions are obviously hazardous, the leader will poke around and weave a course as if through a minefield.
The rope leader tries to balance two somewhat contradictory demands: safety and speed. No one wants to walk into a crevasse, but no one wants to spend a whole morning getting around one either: The rope leader decides whether a faster, more direct route (generally speaking, a route crossing a crevasse) offers enough safety compared to a longer, apparently less dangerous route (generally a route circumventing a crevasse).
It might be easy for the safety-conscious to say, “Always take the longer, safer route,” but in many cases speed is safety, especially when conditions will deteriorate with time—;as they often do. The sun of a hot day melting snowbridges, a storm or whiteout, nightfall moving in (whether imminently or eventually), avalanche or icefall hazards from above—;all of these are hazards that a team can best deal with by just plain moving fast. Detours can further exact a cost in the members' fatigue level, slowing travel even more. On the other hand, one should not risk, say, a fifty-fifty chance of taking a crevasse plunge if it can be avoided in any way, for a crevasse fall can demand all the time, energy, and stress a team can spare.
When rope leaders encounter a suspected or obvious snowbridge, they can probe its depth and width with an ice ax. A long ice ax with a smooth shaft can be helpful here; a ski pole with a small basket is even better When a probe finds less resistance, beware! If there's no better alternative bridge or end run, crossing the fragile bridge can be safer on hands and knees, or even lying prone, to spread body weight over a greater surface area. If a crevasse's walls are obviously solid and not too far apart, it may be possible to leap over the gap, although great leaps are less commonly possible than photographers would have us believe.
SURVIVAL INSTINCTS
After a number of years of climbing, I landed a job as a guide and instructor for the North Cascades Alpine School. There, more than anywhere else in the Lower 48, glacier travel and crevasse rescue were primary concerns of everyday life. We guides discussed and debated all the subtleties we came across, from harness design to hauling ratchets. We held to strict standards for traveling with clients; it pained us to see other parties who apparently saw no need for a rope or who tied into swami belts without leg loops. Very few teams traveled with anchors or pulleys handy. We shared stories such as the couple walking hand-in-hand down the glacier the rope dragging behind in a long picturesque loop. We knew that sooner or lat
er we'd be rescuers.
Descending Mount Baker one afternoon, my party crossed a particularly tenuous snowbridge, and the last guy in our team of three broke through it. His fall didn't pull hard on the rope, but he was hidden below the surface. I instructed the adjacent guy to hold firm while I checked the situation. Another guy happened to be coming by on his way up to camp. He was shirtless and unroped, but had a rope strapped onto his full pack.
I saw my client stuck half into the deteriorating snowbridge over a very black abyss, held in an awkward position he couldn't wrench out of. The shirtless guy reached down to pull him out, and I yelled for him to get away. He responded that he had the situation under control. I scurried to set an anchor while he jumped over the crevasse and took off his pack to better help the stuck man. I dug in a fluke as fast as I could, and while “Shirtless” was on his knees tugging at the client's arm, I put a C-pulley rig onto the rope. Shirtless and I yelled back and forth some more about who had the situation under control. About the time he was bracing in a new position to yank from, I had the pulley rigged, and I heaved the client up so he could wrestle to his feet.
Shirtless waved good-bye and resumed his hike up to his campsite. We waved back, figuring that anyone who'd survived to a majority age with so little common sense probably had gifts beyond our capacities.
TEAM TRAVEL
When a team travels roped together how the members manage their progress affects their well-being in two important ways. First, how the rope runs at the time of a crevasse fall has a great effect on how serious the crevasse fall will be. Second, the amount of consideration and teamwork each member practices can greatly affect partnerships—and, for instance, whether or not he or she will have tent space to share that night.
