After another relaxed beginning to our day, we had breakfast at the downtown diner and headed on down the road to climb Multiplication Gully WI3+, before our flight that evening at 1935 in Albany. This climb is the closest to Lake Placid on my tick list as you head out in the direction of White Face Ski Area and the upcoming ADK Haus 09. Our hosts granted us a very very late check out just because we are regulars at the Northway Motel.
It was another beautiful day in the Adirondacks. I found myself again at the turnout in the shadow of the towering cliff faces, across from "Multi Gully". There had been days when the noise hairs would freeze in place as you met the frigid blast of air channeled up through this pass until we'd find shelter once in the trees. We ambled our way through the trees up to the base of Multiplication Gully, where we donned our gear. It was my lead, but Wayne had never climbed here before. I racked my stuff, always trying new "tweaks" in my repertoire, but not changing my core setup which I think I have dialed in. My harness always seems to be cluttered cuz my old Petzl Corax doesn't accommodate my ice clippers where "I" want, obscuring the gear loops. Today, I'll carry one shoulder runner for the shorty screamers and quickdraws bandolier style. I'll experiment by NOT wearing my Body Armour glove liners, which I'll regret, being all fancy pants and all. I'll forget to bring my Bbee bullet pack with my puffy and hot tea at the base, which I'll need by the end of this climb
The ice all over the Adirondacks is the best I‘ve seen it in a couple of years; FAT best describes the conditions and not what my pants look like in old ski bibs after Thanksgiving. Multiplication Gully is 200 feet of beautifully formed WI3 ice and the last 25 feet approaching slightly awkward WI3+ to the anchors. In recent years I would leave my 2-22cm screws at home, but the ice almost everywhere is taking everything; last year when I led this pitch and it was much thinner.
I launched, noticed ice at the start when expecting a snowy beginning and sunk a screw on the steep slope. The ice was stepped out on this steeper part of the first pitch; (I make it sound harder than it is). I got pumped on the top steeper section of this first pitch and should have powered through it instead of saying "screw it" with a 16cm. I always welcome the belay anchors when they slowly come into view. I passed the rap anchors on the left and continued up to the base of the ice wall and built a 2 screw anchor on low angle ice. I belayed Wayne up to me, relieved that he was going to make short work of this beautiful climb today so we could pack it up and make our flights this evening.
P2 is a beautiful section of ice probably about 180 feet to the anchor, of just awesome WI3 (my speed for leading)...I filmed Wayne leaving the belay. I was positioned in a terrible place to belay from however. As he ascended the ever steepening ice, I watched the occasional chunk of ice take flight in slo-mo, touch the wall and fragment into a dozen deadly projectiles. I would dive for cover in this corner missing most that lacked the right trajectory for a direct hit.
Wayne was enjoying his lead on relatively easier terrain, from the climbs we did this weekend. He had turned a dogleg left behind the prominent bulge in the picture. His progress was out of my line of sight, very near the last hard section to the belay/rap anchor. I was getting cold with out my BBEE pack which contained my puffy and life saving thermos of hot sugary tea. I looked forward to a hot shower and seeing my daughter and wife soon. I was diving for cover with increasing regularity. The sometimes silent streaking projectiles were coming from very high up and the chucks were big enough to ruin one's afternoon.
Suddenly, I heard a sound so alien and out of the ordinary for that day. I froze processing the sounds for recognition. What I imagined was a portion of the mountain had detached and was roaring towards me. Regular chunks of ice didn't have the deep resounding cacophony of chaos that was inevitably headed in my direction. My reflex was to dive for cover. The last thing I saw before the scene above was out of view, was a red helmet and Wayne's Backpack in an exploding cloud of ice. A blood curdling scream shattered the tranquility of the mountainscape through the storm of ice above: "FALLING". It was a desparate plea that a climbing partner can trust only one unspoken response.
The rope, I remember had already locked off before I hit the ice in front of me which took up a lot of slack in this motion. After the Ice storm passed, I looked up....I heard Wayne say, "I'm okay." I asked him frantically, if he was really okay and to belay me up and we'd Abalakov the **** out of there. I told he didn't have to finish this thing. His reply, " I wanna finish this bitch." I was overcome with emotion for such a close call to my friend. We climb to have fun until something happens or someone gets seriously injured or killed. So many thoughts and emotions went through my mind. Is all this shit worth it for the high? Rocky mountain cocaine? Is it worth it? John Smith told me early on a few years ago, "You do not fall on ice; falling is not an option. On rock, you protect the climbs for a little skin, on ice you are protecting a fall for your life". So there I was, suddenly warm from physiologic adrenaline carousing through my system.
"That's me", I called up to him, and began to clean the route. I really love this climb and i could climb this over and over and even set up a TR way higher up on this beautiful second pitch of ice. There is an easy chimney move further up that offers varying degrees of creativity to negotiate-all mucho fun-O. I saw where Wayne had fallen and it was a sickening thought. I 've never heard of anyone falling on ice besides ironman Mitch Hyman, when climbing with Don Mellor earlier this season.
Wayne was a little bruised, but thank providence unscathed. We learned something from this near catastrophe as follows.
Wayne had reached lower angle ice and put in a screw after the bulge before the last steep section to the anchor. He made his way, over low angled ice to the steep section and set off again. If I look back and see the rope dissappear over the a bulge that I just climbed without seeing protection-I will freak until I screw one in.
Sure, your belayer may be cold, but protect your dumbass from injury at every opportunity, if you have enough screws; you never know when you are going to fall and it just isn't an option on ice.
Low angle ice is decieving.
The 16cm (blue) Black Diamond screw held a vertical fall of about 7-8 feet, then a tumble down stepped ice, short of the rock wall on the right-a harrowing 40 feet.
The shorty screamer did not deploy on this fall.
ATC guide device facilitated a secure lock off when it was needed, and stayed pinched off.
Ice Climbing 
