Teton Climbers Week

I had only been to the Grand Teton Climbers' Ranch once before. It was two summers ago. I had come to climb the Cathedral traverse with Jack Tackle. When I asked Jack what time we were heading out in the morning, he said in his deep, thoughtful voice, “Two would be good” Two! The only good thing I knew about 2am was ordering a drink during last call. Needless to say, I arrived at the ranch in the dark and departed in the dark, spending less than three hours in my bunk.

This week wouldn’t be a typical climbing trip, however. Since I am the AAC’s director of fun and games, camp cook and den mother, I was very busy tracking down slideshow presenters, preparing Mediterranean couscous salad, tapping kegs and doing dishes.

But my biggest anxiety was the fact that someone sorry sucker had paid $150 to climb with me. ‘Climb With’ day was a fundraiser for the club. Members could make a donation and have Jim Donini, Phil Powers, Charley Mace or Josh Wharton for the day. Apparently, I was the first to be booked. A wife requested me for her husband’s birthday present. This was sounding weirder and weirder. Anyway, I hope he wanted to go bouldering.

The Mertaughs, Tom, Karen and son Ryan arrived Sunday afternoon. I detected Midwest accents immediately and told them I was from Iowa. Their faces lit up when Drew, the ranch manager, introduced me.

“Brittany! We are going climbing with you tomorrow!” So these were the sorry suckers. “Grrrreat!” I feigned enthusiasm.

“What would you like to do?” Please say bouldering please say bouldering, I silently prayed to myself.

“Well, I was thinking Armed Robbery.” Tom said with a big giant Michigan smile.

“HA!” Drew laughed aloud. He was well aware of how intimidated I was by the Tetons. Let me explain. I, with the exception of hiking Teewinot and Owen, had never climbed here. The climbing didn’t scare me as much as the approaches and route finding did, and, oh, that I’m not a guide. A friend cleverly described the routes here as ‘for every mile you hike, you get to climb that many pitches.’

“Why are you laughing, Drew?” I asked nervously.

“Uh, that’s like a five hour hike, and I don’t know anyone who has done it…” I gulped and excused myself.

I found Jack at the keg. He immediately sensed my trepidation. I explained the situation. Normally, when Jack and I climb, our roles are quite clear. I am the rope gun and he is the approach gun. So Jack knows full well how hopeless I am at route finding and other critical details of adventure climbing. But Good Ole Uncle Jack put his arm around me (hmm) and reassured me he would take care of it.

As I introduced Jack to Tom and Ryan, I could read their star struck expressions, ‘Oh My God! That’s JACK TACKLE!’ Too bad Jack had a sales meeting the next day and couldn’t be my approach bitch. (He would have generously done it, too.) Instead, he rubbed his mustache and in his sonorous tone said, “Now, this is what you want to do…”

In the end, he convinced them that they did not want to climb some obscure, long, chossy beast, but in fact do Guides Wall.

A boat ride? A hike under two hours? Good rock? Clean cracks? Rappels? Back to the keg by five? I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. AND, they both agreed that that was what they wanted to do. Jack’s Jedi Mind Trick worked! Still, this was the Tetons, not Rifle, and it was quite possible I wouldn’t even be able to find the boat dock at Jenny Lake. Jack’s level of thoughtfulness went a step further when he diligently hand drew me a topo, which, to my delight, included not only the route, rappel route, approach, but also the left, right, left turns out of the Ranch parking lot to get me to the Jenny Lake parking lot. How sweet.

The next morning, we promptly made it on the 7am boat. We squeezed past tourists and began the hike. I clutched Jack’s super topo in my sweaty hands and compulsively looked down at it every 30 seconds. ‘Get to inspiration point, hike to a small lake, head up talus to base of route’. I could handle that.

Oh god, a tee in the trail. I pretended not to look at the sign with arrows pointing in the correct direction. I filled the tense air with small talk, what did they do, what was Ryan studying at school, what was their favorite place to climb. Shit, did I pass the lake? Oh Jesus, an enormous moose was standing in the middle of the trail, twenty feet ahead. Ah, do we turn around? Tom was a veterinary so I asked him to please advise. But, just as dreams of margaritas on the deck at Dornan’s danced in my head, the moose yielded and we continued. I began to look up the slope at the cliffs, but all I discerned were great sections of broken, ledgey, crumbling crap. How in the hell am I to find this route? A line of chalked holds? Shining bolt hangers? Blue tape? Perhaps I would be able to get through this with my personality.

“Isn’t this just so fun?” I ventured. “I think it is so much more of a enriching experience when the guide hasn’t done the route and we all get to participate in the finding of the climb”

Bullshit.

“Now, well there’s a crack, a bush, some ledges, some trees and another crack. That could be our climb.” I offered hopefully. But then again, just like reading your horoscope, you see/believe what you want. We charged up hill. I thought I might have seen a cairn. I scanned the dirt for dot rubber tread marks, tape balls, anything to prove that climbers might have been on this trail recently. We reached the base of a wall. I dropped my cragging pack and started scanning the wall for a fixed pin. Found it! Ecstatic, I tied in, booted up and eagerly climbed to the piton, hoping the terrain I was covering was 5.7

For the next three hours we climbed steep clean rock, splitter cracks and belayed on sprawling, sunny ledges. Like a parent marveling at their baby’s first steps, I proudly watched Tom and Ryan thrust their virgin, Midwestern hands into cracks. Every wince and grunt made me smile. It was a magical day of climbing and I was having a brilliant time. Tom arrived at the last belay, breathless and beaming.

“Happy Birthday.” I said to him.

“Thank-you, Jack.” I said to myself.