Ice Climbing

Adirondack Ice and My Inner Adventure

by Becky Carmen

I’m at my first difficult ice climbing lead of the year, 10 feet above my last ice screw, high above Chapel Pond in the High Peaks region of the Adirondacks. My arms are burning and I think to myself, “Must get another ice screw in…” I remember yoga class at the gym last night and the instructor’s words:

“Breath a deep slow breath in three parts: first fill the belly, then the rib cage, up through the throat and exhale slowly.”

I start to fill my belly but am interrupted by the fear of potentially taking a 25-foot or more fall. I soon sound like a woman in labor. My breathing becomes heavy and fast. I only get my breath in as far as my tongue and am not sure I’m expelling any air at all. I forget that I have a belly as I pant like my border collie after rounding the sheep up. I clutch my left hand to one ice tool above me while aggressively pushing a new screw into the ice with my right hand.

OK, screw is in, I yell, “clipping blue” to my belayer Emily as I pull a braided blue and white rope from my waist and clip it to the new ice screw. My symptoms slowly begin to dissipate.

With only 100 feet left, more words of my yoga instructor echo in my mind:

“Find your inner space, thank your body for looking inside of it.”

My body is not too happy with me right now, my calves are burning as I kick ice and drop my heels down. My heart is beating with adrenaline and apprehension beneath my five clothing layers. My inner space wishes that it were back in the warm gym on a nice yoga mat, surrounded by other warm bodies.

“Pick a focal point as you go into your balancing pose.”

I am standing on the ice in a triangle yoga position. Feet apart with crampons dug firmly in, two excellent tool placements close together above me. So good I almost don’t want to leave. Where is that focal point? Is it that chandelier of ice in front of my face, or is it that mushy cauliflower ice to my right?

Unladylike, harsh words begin to leave my mouth. Words I didn’t know I had in me. I peer down at Emily belaying me. She can see my distraught face and knows that those comments are not for her. As a fellow climber, guide and friend, she understands what I am going through and shouts encouragement.

“Let go of all your worries from the day as you go into shivasna.”

As I climb on I clutch all my worries. Was that last screw really good? Could I have found a better spot? Am I going to be able to shower before going out tonight, or will I end up at The Cliffhanger Cafe in my bibs, sweaty capilene and matted helmet hair? Was Emily getting cold down there belaying me?

“Thank your body for spending time with it and looking into yourself.”

My body was a little upset with me. Yesterday I guided a young girl who looked up to me and excelled quickly. She reinforced why I find such personal satisfaction from that job. I waited tables the night before, the job that lets me continue my carefree lifestyle but inflames my tendonitis as I carry thick ceramic plates. My body was crying for a rest. But instead I am terrorizing my soul with fear by climbing a frozen waterfall on a particularly cold day.

As my hands begin to lose grip strength, I look into them and tell them they need to hold on for just 30 more feet.

The last 20 feet is a lower angle. I pick up my pace as I scramble to the top clip in and yell “off belay” to Emily.

I stand in mountain pose yoga position — knees slightly bent, hands dangling to my sides, like a chimpanzee standing with ice tools dangling off her wrists. My mind and body is now more content 140 feet up from the ground and 10 ice screws later. I’m exhilarated with my success.

“Curl into the fetal position and thank yourself for coming here today.”

After rappelling and hiking out, Emily and I jump into my truck and sink back into the seats with the heater on full blast. As we drive to happy hour at the Cliffhanger, we laugh and we reminisce back when we first started ice climbing and would end up as belay slaves for our boyfriends. We realize how nice it is to have the moved on in the world, gained experience and have found the support and camaraderie that a female ice climbing partnership includes. And now as guides we are able to teach the next generation of women.

We walk in to the cafe and soon have hot drinks in front of us. I sit in my chair with my knees bent, thighs to my chest in pure comfort. I thank my body for getting me through the day. I thank myself for choosing this lifestyle. I look back to seven years ago when leading an ice climb was just a futile dream. Fresh out of college with grandeur thoughts, I believed I could do anything if I tried hard enough.

The cafe begins to fill in with other, equally worn-looking climbers. I gain self-confidence in knowing that I’m probably not the smelliest one here. We all sit around and share tales of our day.

There are men and women here from all walks of life. Climbing bums that live out of their vans — they have traded health insurance and a steady job to climb six days a week. Professionals from the city that get out on the weekends and excel greatly — training in a gym and a lot of determination can get you far.

As I sit contemplating my life, I find that I am truly content in the path that I’ve chosen; each decision I have made has brought me closer to where I am today. The rewards of ice climbing are many. I am able to enjoy the beauty of winter and challenge myself both mentally and physically, in addition to pursuing the career that affords me the opportunity to share these joys with other women and add to my lifetime fitness. I am truly happy in my inner space.

Becky Carmen of Keene has been climbing rock and ice since the mid-1990s and guiding for Adirondack Rock and River since 2001. She teaches rock and ice climbing for North Country Community College. Becky derives her greatest rewards introducing women to the joys and challenges of climbing.

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