Wind Rivers

Josh Beckner and I cruised into the Winds on Saturday evening for 3 days of climbing. It was one of the best little climbing missions I've done. So damn hot! We climbed the NE Buttress of Pingora (IV, 5.9) on Sunday, Black Elk on Warbonnet (IV, 5.11a) on Monday, and the North Face, Left of Mt. Mitchell (III, 5.8) on Tuesday. Then we hiked out. Mucho tired.

The climb of Black Elk was especially significant. It was Pete Absolon's favorite climb in the Wind Rivers, one that he had done dozens of times. For Pete it was a walk in the park. He was a master of gettin' vertical, and although the Elk was a testpiece for many he could run laps on it. His death was one of the saddest moments I can remember, and many, many folks miss him.


Pete's passing at NOLS left many with a hole in their life. For Josh and I, Pete filled the mentor role; not just a friend or someone to climb with up in Sinks Canyon, but an inspiration and role model. Josh and I were both climbing and mountaineering instructors at NOLS, and Pete represented the archetype that we wished we could be. In my eyes, he was one of the few that made the transition from "hard man" to "family man" without a problem. He incorporated the two different lifestyles into one seamless, beautiful poem.

The day we climbed Black Elk was the one-year anniversary of his death. We awoke to threatening weather; the clouds raced over our camp with great haste, and the previous night's storm was fresh on our mind. Getting out of the tent at 4:45 a.m., Josh and I stewed about in silence, going through the motions of getting ready for a climb, but only halfheartedly, as it seemed like an exercise in futility. We ate a little breakfast and had rounds of coffee. Our intended alpine start was clearly not going to happen, and put us at risk of climbing in the late afternoon, when the possibility of getting throttled by p.m. thunderstorms, high on the face of Warbonnet, seemed likely and incredibly not fun. We only had one rope, as well, so rappelling the face could cost hundreds of dollars of gear.

Gary Cukjati, one of Pete's good friends and the Director of NOLS Rocky Mountain, asked us to retrieve Pete's cache that he had stashed under a boulder near the base of Black Elk. We had vague directions, but once we saw the tremendous talus field that guards the approach to Warbonnet, it seemed there was a million boulders where the cache could be located.


After stewing about until 7:30 in the morning, Beckner and I asked "What would Pete do?". The answer was simple. There wouldn't be a question in his mind. He would flash a mischievous grin and say "Get after it, buddy!".

We decided that we would search for the cache and hope that there was a rope in it. We racked, hiked up the talus and started looking for the needle in the haystack. As it turned out, the needle was deep under the second boulder we looked under.

There indeed was a rope. And some personal items; a jacket, climbing gear, a balaclava, some gloves, and well-worn climbing gear We rummaged through it, savoring the sensation that we had found a bit of quicksilver, and imagined that this was part of the essence of Pete. This was Pete's stuff; looking though it felt like touching some part of him. It was melancholy; it was sad and inspiring; it left us speechless and wistful. We made eye contact and stared at each other in silence, each processing the mixture of emotions pouring into us.

We took the rope and finished the approach to the base. It was the only thing left to do, and Pete was clearly with us. As we tied in at the first belay, the sky conceded to high pressure and the clouds vanished. The climb went the same way that all great climbs do; it was challenging and spectacular. Cracks came and went, transitioning from size to size and from move to move. We thrutched and screamed up the off-width, Elvis-ed up the slabby sections with machine-gun leg, and flowed through the hands and fingers. The whole time, Josh and I relished the sensation of climbing as a threesome, Pete was with us the whole time.