Lynchberg Lemonade

Elkutna River Canyon, Anchorage, Alaska

February 8, 1997

by Ernie Borjon

Prologue

Back in the early 70's, when ice climbers discovered several waterfalls in Elkutna canyon, a tradition of giving the climbs the names of cheap wines was begun. The longest and highest climb in the canyon was named "Ripple", (Grade III). Then followed "Boones Farm", "Annie Greensprings", "Mad Dog" (Mogen-David) and "Taylor Farms". In ensuing years the list grew slowly until people began to look at the walls of Eklutna from a different perspective. Under the right conditions, the moss, soil and dead vegetation that had accumulated in the runnels and gullys freezes solid and is coated in thin ice. We began doing mixed climbs and the race for first acents is just beginning.

"Lynchburg Lemonade" (a Jack Daniels product) is one of this breed of new climbs in the canyon. My buddy Dave and I did what we think was the 3rd acent of the route and it turned out to be an exciting day. On a good day there is plenty of trousers-filling to go around for anyone willing to crank up their climbing a notch.

The climb

On Saturday, February 8, 1997, Dave Lucey and I walked into Eklutna Canyon intent on climbing Lynchburg Lemonade, first climbed by Dave Miller two years ago and repeated only once, just two weeks ago.

This climb, on mixed rock and ice, is a radical departure from the frozen waterfalls that people usually come into Elkutna to climb.

Lynchberg Lemonade is 300 feet (two pitches) of mixed climbing; some bad and some worse!

Lemonade begins about 75 yards past Ripple on the opposite wall. The line meanders up and over loose rock garnished with winter's accumulated detritus of dead leaves and moss, all frozen together by several freeze/thaw cycles and lightly coated in ice and snow. An effervescent brew! The climb follows a shallow depression that diagonals from the lower right side of the wall, then up to the left through the lower face. Starting left, it suddenly changes direction - and character. The climb works up a long open book. The ice is heavy with a conglomeration of frozen dirt, dead leaves and tiny bits of broken bone, all frozen together at the base of the climb. The higher you climb, the better it gets.

We appraised the situation. The first pitch ends at a belay stance next to a healthy spruce tree girdled with red webbing. Lemonade then goes up an open book, still on good, solid frozen compost for about another 75 feet. Here the salad runs out. A 40 foot rock headwall looms ominously above with the open book on the right. At the base of the headwall you arrive at a single 1/4" x 1" bomber bolt in rotten rock. Green webbing hangs stiffly but impotently from the dubious bolt. Above the headwall, another 20 feet of desparate climbing earns you the canyon rim.

Dave led the first pitch that ends at the spruce tree. As always around here, he used Spectres in the frozen humus, and runners on the trees for protection. Dave looking very smooth and in control. Really, I think it's mostly fear. I followed and cleaned up to him. We discussed the rest of the climb and decided that I would lead to the bolt and then belay him up to me. Then we would have to talk about the rest of the climb. I arrived at the bolt using a combination of Specters, runners and some rock pro. This was very fun and enjoyable climbing. Hooking on rock was minimal here. It was mainly a case of driving the picks into the frozen turf and getting good - solid - placements. I backed up the bolt with an equally shaky Friend in the same rotten rock.

After Dave came up, we looked the route over and decided that we had brought the proper rock gear to protect the climbing. I volunteered that I wanted to lead it. This part of the climb would be totally on rock, dry-tooling and light-footing on crampons, with lots of hooking and jamming the head of my right hammer into the open book. This gave me a feeling of substantial security. Encouraged, I proceeded.

First piece of pro was a baby angle in a thin crack on the wall on my right. Further up I was able to get in a #2 rigid Friend. A few more hooking and jamming moves and I was able to place a Hexcentric about 2 1/2" in diameter. The open book leans out and forces you to the left about 3 feet, then sharply angles back to the right. Here the crack opens to its widest. I was able to place a larger Hexcentric about 3 to 4 inches across. This would be the last piece I could get in the crack. The open book began to peter out and turn into broken and jumbled loose rock. Very typical of the rock in the rest of the canyon.

I moved up past the protection into a mini cul-de-sac where I was forced to go left. Go right or up and you risk dislodging boulders into the open book, right onto your belayer. Not a good idea! When I could no longer go straight up, I moved to the left and came face to face with the base of a small bush. I still had my right tool hooked on the broken rock that used to be the open book. I tried to find a good placement above the bush with my left tool, but it seemed to only be going into piled loose leaves or such. I moved the tool to the left side of the bush and swung blindly, again above the bush until it seemed hooked well enough into something with a semblance of solidity.

I unhooked the right tool from the rock, but as I shifted more weight onto the left tool, it sheared through the leaves and I spun out left. Pirouetting on my left crampon, I span around, falling. The rope caught me, but my left knee slammed onto the rock, followed instantly by the left side of my face. This really pissed me off! Hanging on the rope, I tried to be nonchalant. I told Dave I needed to come down to regain my composure. Of course, Dave didn't really want to let me down, because he figured I would bail. He thought I should finish the climb and kept trying to talk me into it. I swore I at least needed to come down so I could wipe the blood off my face and get it out my eye. He agreed, albeit reluctantly. As he lowered me off, I cleaned the bottom three pieces, just in case.

Ernie Borjon I actually started up again twice, but each time I down-climbed to the belay. Finally I told Dave that with my bell getting rung but good, I shouldn't go up. Would he like to be belayed by a one eyed, semi-coherent, head-injured, mentally deficient partner? Dave, being an EMT, held up three fingers in front of my bleeding face, asked how many fingers I saw, but didn't give me time to answer. He pronounced me "fine".

We reorganized the rope and rack. Dave gingerly stepped around me, so he wouldn't get any blood on his clothes, and started up. He climbed quickly, reached my Hex, and backed it up with a solid #2 Friend. Then he went left, well below the bush that had ambushed me. He was able to get onto a series of tiny ledges that took him up and right, and well onto good proper veggie. Then he was up on the rim. Dave got a Spectre to purchase in good solid veggie/frozen dirt on the ledges. I followed him up to the rim where we found Dave Miller's black, two year old, webbing. We retied it higher up the tree and did the two rappels down to the river bed.

Epilogue

"What luck", I thought, when I got home, "my wife isn't around".

I had made up my mind that I wasn't going to the doctor because of a scratch on the forehead. But when I got out of the shower she was home. She saw my swollen eye and oozing forehead and she didn't even hear me say, "I'm ok, I ain't going to the doctor". She evenly said, "We'll go in my car. I'll get it ready".

What could I say? How many? Eleven stitches above my left eye!

Comments?

Sun Sep 20 No title! Guest (54)

A Los Alpinistas story by Ernie Borjon. Photos of Ernie and Dave are courtesy of Ned Lewis.