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Unleashed  Will Gadd

Unleashed  Will Gadd

In the 2000 Ice World Cup the organizers removed my leashes, and I was pissed. Leashes were my safety net, and I didn’t think ice climbing had to be made harder artificially. Two seasons later I climb leashless about half the time, primarily on hard, well-protected mixed routes. Leashless climbing has evolved a long way from a tennis ball taped to the bottom of a smooth shaft; leashes still belong in my toolbox, but leashes aren’t the best tool for all forms of winter climbing. Leashless mixed climbing is simply faster, more creative and less painful on the wrists than nylon manacles. A good leashless tool is almost as easy to hang onto as a jug, so with a good set of spurs (preferably bolted straight to light boots) you can truly rest anywhere. It’s even possible to hook one tool with your feet in the middle of a roof and shake out on the other tool...

I half-jokingly call leashless climbing, “Free Aid Climbing” because it’s definitely aid climbing to hang from picks or spurs on rock or ice, but the movement is certainly creative and powerful enough to be called free climbing. Often it’s more effective to match on one tool in small blobs of ice than to try and get both tools in (the only option with leashes); two tools will just break the ice. Many mixed routes are much more difficult with leashed tools than leashless tools; ever try to match tools in a thin crack or pocket? Matching hands on the same tool is easier and faster when there are limited placements. There is no right or wrong (other than scratching around on existing rock routes) with this new style of climbing, just the joy of making wild moves in winter. So, to badly paraphrase a common quote, “Climbers of the world, try something new: you have nothing to lose but your leashes!”

Today the leashless tools aren’t quite evolved enough for me to trade my Cobras in for pure ice climbing (I still believe the leader must not fall on ice climbs and leashes add safety), but I suspect that within a year or two we’ll have leashless tools that offer the same security and balanced swing as a good leashed tool. Remember, the roadies all laughed at the first mountain bikers too...

Will Gadd

We all know Will is one of the world’s best ice climbers. But there’s more to this guy that just ice tools and World Cups. Will paraglides (first person to paraglide across the U.S.), rock climbs (5.13 sport and trad), kayaks (solid wilderness and rodeo boater), skis (been at it since age three) and mountain bikes (a sport class racer). See, Will was abducted by aliens at birth and was implanted with a device that makes him a pro at virtually every sport known to mankind. Will is a fine athlete indeed. Mighty fine.

Blood from Stone  Ueli Steck

It’s our second night on the East Face of Mount Dickey and I can’t stop thinking about Sean’s half of our tiny ledge. As the avalanches crash around us, I’m longing for the flat concrete of the airport floor where Sean and I slept more than a week ago. Although my memory is clouded, I know that night started with too many beers and ended with the two of us in the cockpit of the plane, pushing lots of buttons and knobs, attempting to fly to the glacier ourselves. Of course, we never even got the engine started. But compared with this tiny ledge, the airport floor now seems like five-star accommodations.

We were greeted in the Ruth Gorge by a deteriorating weather forecast and grim conditions on the peaks. On our first morning we climbed several mixed pitches to the beginning of the central face of Mount Dickey. Everywhere we looked the ice was thin and I took a good fall trying to work out the sequence on a roof, but we fixed two more pitches, cached our gear and descended feeling optimistic. We awoke to snow falling on the tent and our optimism fading. We agreed not to open the bottle of Scotch before noon.

Days passed in a blur of Scotch and listening to the same eight CDs over and over. Finally, we awoke to better weather and jugged our lines. By late afternoon, we reached the base of an orange wall. The first moves were tricky and the climbing never let up. For a full 60 meters, I needed my entire bag of mixed climbing tricks. Moves that would be relaxed a meter above a bolt take on a new perspective 15 meters out from a shaky #1 blade. That night we crawled into our bags and listened to the roar of avalanches.

When we awoke, we started climbing in good spirits, thinking the crux orange wall was behind us. We climbed all day, linking thin ice and mixed terrain. The climbing was never easy—always a coat of verglas, but we reached a headwall after eight full pitches. “Oh, shit...” We realized the crux wasn’t behind us after all.

We tried the crack straight up, but the water ice and snow blocked our way. We tried a traverse and another crack, but the thin steep ice was too much. In the dark we finally chipped out this tiny ledge.

Now, a faint light is growing on the horizon and I can’t stand to sit and envy Sean’s half of the ledge any longer. I pick up my tools and start climbing. I’m moving like a beginner on this pitch, which at first bugs me more than the fact I’m seven meters above my last gear and the thin ice is splintering away. Pretty soon I’m desperate for a crack but there’s nothing. I plant both my Cobras into 2 cm of ice and clip the rope into them. I’ve got to place a bolt. I try to not load the tools too much, but I need a break. Keeping my eyes on the picks, I ease my weight onto the Cobras. I grab my hammer and start drilling. At last I sink the bolt and sketch through another 20 meters of dicey dry tooling. I can see a thick sheet of ice and I sink in two screws to the hilt—relief! Sean starts jugging and halfway up he pleads for me to speak in English again. I’ve been babbling in German and he can’t understand a word.

The next 300 meters are classic alpine terrain with a few M6 pitches. It doesn’t stress us now. Somehow, we know the route will go. I bust through the summit cornice and we brew some tea in the fading light before descending. We look like two drunks, trying to hold each other up.

At camp I fix coffee; Sean stomps a large OUT in the snow. Hopefully a pilot will see our message. We spend most of the day sleeping and nursing sore muscles before we hear the small K2 plane. We throw our gear onto the plane, then the pilot guns the engine and banks hard. He smiles at us and passes along a six-pack with hamburgers and fries. Now these are five-star accommodations!

Ueli Steck

To say Ueli Steck is a first-class ice climber is an understatement. A Swiss native, Ueli has climbed virtually every difficult north face in the Alps and has had unprecedented success in Alaska and Nepal. In 2000 he completed the first free ascent of the Yeti Route and followed it up with the first ascent of The Young Spider in 2001 (both located on the Eiger’s north face). He’s redpointed 8b, onsighted 8a—and best of all, Ueli’s got a sense of humor—he was recently spotted climbing M10 in Switzerland…sans shirt.