A climb with bite

When the alarm’s annoying ring went off at 4 a.m. so we could start the climb, it didn’t feel like a field trip to me. Yager and I roped up, silently double- and triple-checking our knots — and each other’s. The sun was starting to rise. In late May there are only a few hours of darkness in Alaska. It was below zero.

There is a certain apprehension starting a big climb. It reminds me of being a young boy and preparing to jump off the high dive when you know the water’s cold and you are a little nervous. Yager led up the first pitch, scratching steel ice-climbing tools against the cold stone, trolling in little cracks for firm enough purchase to pull his body up a few inches, where he would repeat the move. Firmer ice followed, as we planted our picks into the blue substrate and gingerly crept up the giant wall. I quickly realized how big this peak was. Ham and Eggs was no snack.

Far below I could see the glow of the stove in Mahoney’s cooking tent. The Schmidts were enjoying a hot breakfast, after which Mahoney would happily stroll them across the Root Canal and up into the narrow gully that was the route. Dale would suffer cramps and turn back to camp, but Ben continued on, swiftly following Mahoney’s lead up the slot and rapidly gaining on Yager and me.

We moved up carefully but efficiently, scaling rope length after rope length of hard ice, sugary snow, and gristly rock. Yager, an accomplished New Hampshire guide, led the two of us up a thrilling, overhanging curtain of rotten ice, suffering the barrage of snow crashing down on his head as he pulled through the difficult moves. More of these sections followed, alternating with steep, insecure snow climbs. Scrappy rock sections interspersed the frozen medium, our steel crampons skating on granite and releasing a spark and puff of ozone with each desperate move. Far below, I heard laughing.

It was Mahoney. As if hiking up an easy trail, he eased over the icy countertop and shouted down to Ben, who was out of sight. “Come on up, buddy. You’re on belay. It’s super fun.’’

For the remainder of the climb we were just ahead of, or just behind Mahoney and Ben. The pair eased up the gully smoothly, smiling when the sun poked through, laughing when the heavy downpour of sloughing snow filled their hoods from above. Ben was plugging along, picking his way up thousands of feet of snow and ice.

At around 8 that evening Yager and I sat at the top of Ham and Eggs . Looking down at the whirling glaciers, I sipped stale water and forced down an energy bar. I tried to mentally prepare myself for an evening’s worth of rappelling, any one of which could, if not executed properly, result in the last and longest slide of my life. On the snowy summit ridge above me I heard Mahoney’s characteristic cackle, followed by Ben’s cheer.

Ben had touched the crown of the Tooth. He made it back home, safely, just in time for prom.

Brian Irwin can be reached at irwin08@myfairpoint.net.