Chapter 20 - First Ascent

“Winter quiet embraces our shadows, freedom from the harsh green of summer. We are owls in the night, riding the winds of change.”

 Silence felt the rhythmic slide of Len and Jack’s skis upon its back. They skied beneath the towering Cero Toledo mountain to their left and the rocky cliff faces of the Santa Clara Indians to their right. Hidden beneath their skis the sound of gurgling water slid by. The crisp fresh smell of juniper and pine aroused their spirits as a crow wafted on the winter thermals above the canyon. Jack felt the familiar sliding gate of Len in front of him like the rocking of a baby. Jack centered on his breathing and the flow of nature around him. That’s all there was. That’s all there would ever be.

 Len could hear his blood pounding out the rhythm of winter. A strong gust of wind blew sparkling snowflakes into a sunbeam. A squirrel eyed Len silently from a tree branch above the stream as the two passed. Len had been in this canyon during the winter of 1998 when he first decided to prepare a route that would keep his family safe in case of some disaster. The conclusion from his previous expedition was that this route was far too difficult for Maria to negotiate in heavy snow. It became his alternate escape route during the winter and his primary during the summer. Today they would go from a stream bed at 5400 feet to a high mountain spring at 9400 feet. To reach their first encampment, 8 miles from here, they had to follow Santa Clara Creek around Cerro Toledo until they could cross over the ridge between Cerro Toledo and Cerro de la Garita. The ridge’s lowest point was 9900 feet. Within one mile they had to traverse three quarters of a mile in either snow shoes or cross country skis. There was no trail or road over the ridge where they needed to cross. Between where they were and the ridge there were two stream sections that could be classified as waterfalls.  Every year they froze over into cascading blue ice that could only be climbed or crossed using crampons. Len let the work ahead fall from memory and then fell into the smooth swinging gait just as the winter sun hit it’s zenith. The New Mexico winter heat would warm his cold face for only a couple of hours before dropping below the southern ridge. Len and Jack both let down their hoods and unwrapped the scarves which trapped their body heat.

 “Let’s take a 10 minute break. We’ve been going for two hours now.”

 “Sure Len. Getting old?”

 “Yeah, that and around this next bend is the first waterfall. We’ll have to take off our skis and ascend it with crampons and ice pick. Even then, it’s going to be rough with this snow.”

 “So this is the last sun we’ll get for awhile. I think I’ll lay down.” Jack pulled up his hood, went over to the southeast side of a large tree and fell onto his backpack placing his skiis up on the tree. Moments later, a loud snore broke Len’s silent reverie.

 Len walked over to wake Jack up. He stood over him as a tear fell from his cheek into the snow. Len wiped his cheek and touched Jack lightly on the face with his glove. “Wake up Len, it’s time to go.”

 “Jeez, I fell asleep, huh?”

 “Jack, everyone knows where we are now.”

 “What do you mean, Len?”

 “You woke them snoring.”

 “Real funny. Real funny. You know I don’t snore.”

 “Sure, and I’m a saint.”

 Jack rolled off the tree and onto his skis. He threw on his scarf, fastened his hood, put on his poles and followed in behind Len. Just as Len had said, an ice blue waterfall fell from the top of a 50 foot cliff. Jack thought that this was not going to be easy. On either side of the waterfall were rock overhangs laden with five feet of snow that made it impossible to reach the top of the waterfall without going over it. Both Len and Jack shrugged off their packs and snapped out of their skis. They unloaded crampons and ice axes from their packs and packed up their cross country skiis. Len got out the rope and the ice pitons that he could pound into the waterfall.

Jack tied off the lower end of the rope and belayed Len as he ascended the waterfall. Several times Len slipped and regained his balance. Mid way up the waterfall the cliff flattened out and Jack climbed to meet Len. Immediately above their resting place, an overhang jutted out from the cliff face. Len climbed the overhang with difficulty placing pitons every four feet. He had to hang by one arm and pound the pitons into the waterfall surface. When Len reached the top of the overhang he was exhausted. There were no easy spots to tie off. He would have to tie off the best he could and hope Jack didn’t fall.

 Jack started his ascent with ease.

 “Are you going to be O.K., Jack?”

 “This is a snap, after you did all the work.” Just then Jack reached for a piton and his hand slipped off the end. Len held the rope as tight as possible but Jack plunged falling on his back ten feet from where he missed his grip.

 Len screamed out, “Jack, are you alright?”

 When there was no answer Len began to climb down. As he reached his first piton Jack said, “I think I’m O.K. Len. Just got the wind knocked out of me, is all. I’ll try again in a couple of minutes.”

 It was this tenacity which set Jack above the rest. He would fight and keep fighting no matter how long or what the odds. Len couldn’t have chosen a better friend. Instead, fate chose them for each other.