Teewinot Twice, Almost, 1972 and 1977

Fresh from my triumphs on the Grand and Middle Tetons, we resolved to do something together, namely ascend Teewinot, the pinnacly peak most prominent from Jenny Lake. Though not a technical climb, its east face route is not exactly a walk-up either. Its summit is a single monolith 4,000 above Valhalla Canyon. But we had equipment, growing experience, the weather was good, and Vicki was game. She always is.

The Grand Teton, left, and Teewinot, center, from Lupine
Meadows

East face of Teewinot; the route goes up through the
forested area on the right, passes to the right of the two
large pinnacles in the center of the photo (the Idol and
the Worshipper), then up assorted gulleys, ridges,
snowfields, etc.

Camping the first night near tree-line; always one of my
favorite pictures of my bride...

Next morning, below the Idol and
Worshipper

Working our way on up past the Idol
and Worshipper

Still higher...

Looking up toward the summit; at this point the weather
began closing in--we could hear thunder on the other side--
and at this altitude and season you get a wintry mix that
makes footing difficult; add in the relative lateness of the
day and the prospect of a descent in the dark...we decided
the mountain would still be there the next year, snapped
a few pix, and began our retreat

The "Cathedral Group" perspective...Teewinot, the Grand
and Mt. Owen; anyway, it was on that descent in 1972 that
we figured out that Vicki's climbing forte was not on the
downside...we got back to the camper just before midnight,
exhausted, in tatters (Vicki's jeans), and ready to re-think
any climbing that was off-trail; and so we came to add
climbing to bridge, tennis, and paddling, the major things
we do not do well together

Fast-forward to 1977, and we are back
in the Tetons, and I am doing Teewinot
as a very long day-hike, here pretty
close to where we stopped in 1972

Jackson's Hole, the Snake River, from the summit of
Teewinot; I was there alone and so satisfied myself with
sitting on the summit block, not standing

Looking northwest toward, I think, Lake Solitude

And Mt. St. John, and Mt. Moran and Jackson Lake

The Grand Teton and Mt. Owen from Teewinot; Gunsight
Notch in the middle there

North face of the Grand and Teton 

Glacier

Ascent of the Grand Teton, 1972 (also the Middle Teton)

We toured more of California, including the Bay area, and then drove back to the Tetons, by way of Seattle and the Canadian Rockies. Not a straight line, granted, but in Seattle was the REI store (the only one in those days), and I needed to buy climbing gear; and Canada's great Jasper and Banff National Parks seemed not all that much out of the way. Gas was about 40 cents a gallon (not adjusted for inflation nor changes in disposable per capita income). We didn't climb or hike in the Canadian Rockies--which are stupendously beautiful--but just did some scenic driving and day hikes and reconnaissance, figuring we were sure to return. We did, some years after moving to Montana in 1996.

FWIW, I have always been proud of my very low six-figure REI membership number. Present-day clerks appear to be impressed. Or maybe just deferential or nice to persons of age. Sometime in the 80s, en route to soloing the South Teton and Cloudveil Dome, I met member #4, who was apparently a former REI VP for research and development. I didn't bother to show him my card.

Anyhow, on arriving back at Jenny Lake, I went to the climbers' ranch and, via its bulletin board, found two other singletons interested in climbing in the area. One was a recent high school graduate--his father was superintendent of Sequoia NP--and he had just climbed Mt. McKinley. The other was a recent graduate of the Air Force Academy, en route to training and flying SR70s. He had done some Colorado climbing and obviously was fit. And smart. I was the organizer and elder of the group, at age 25, and clearly its least experienced and skilled member. It was as close as I ever got to being Lord Hunt.

Anyhow, it worked. We hiked up to the Lower Saddle, camped over-night there, climbed the Middle Teton the next day, camped again over-night on the Lower Saddle, then climbed the Grand the third day and hiked all the way back down to Jenny Lake. Exhausting but exhilarating. I can't say my memories of it all are crystal clear--they have been overlain by many more experiences in the Tetons and Winds and other mountains. But it was still the high point of my roped climbing career, brief as it was.

Teton midships: the Middle, the Grand, Mt. Owen, and
Teewinot; from the vicinity of Lupine Meadows

Upper reaches of the Grant Teton; our route, very roughly,
was the left-side ridge, the Exum Route

From the approach up Garnet Canyon, a view of the Middle
Teton; note the line in the middle, a black diabase dike; part
of the route goes up it...

Looking back toward Jackson's Hole

Alpenglow on the Grand, from the

Lower Saddle

Climbing up the black diabase dike on

the Middle Teton

Me on the summit of the Middle Teton: an electrifying
experience

The Grand Teton, from the summit of the Middle

Sunset phenomena on the Lower Saddle

Sunset over Idaho

Climbing up the Exum Route: a view of the Middle Teton

Looking down on the Lower Saddle, between the Middle

and the Grand

The one action shot of the climb...I think I led this pitch,
then handed the belay over to the Air Force guy

At the summit of the Grand, looking south down the range

And to Bradley and Taggart Lakes, and Jackson's Hole

Teewinot and Jenny Lake, and Jackson Lake beyond

Ascent of Mt. Whitney, 1972

So after Yosemite, we drove on east and south to the Owens Valley and the town of Lone Pine, at the eastern foot of Mt. Whitney, highest peak in the contiguous US. We climbed it via the popular Mt. Whitney Trail, tenting over-night a little more than half-way up. It was the highest we have been, 14,505 feet, until Nepal, and, so far as we can remember, the only significant summit we ever reached together. Not that we didn't try others, but that's a different story....

East Face of Mt. Whitney, from Whitney Portal; note the
two Needles to the left of the summit peak

First day on the trail, resting

Vicki; note nice green crusher hat

Looking back toward Owens Valley; I think we camped near
the lake

Looking toward the summit

Typical terrain; the sky seemed to turn a darker blue at the
highest elevations

Looking west into Sequoia National Park

Now on the top-side, walking toward the Needles and the
summit

Past the two Needles

Vicki on the summit

And me, with attractive red hat

Yosemite Falls Trail, 1972

So it came to pass that in June of 1972, we embarked on our second summer-long western US road trip. Our first had been in 1970, from Miami to Boston, where I was to be a graduate student, then up to Maine and beyond in New Brunswick, then west through Canada, re-entering the States at International Falls, and then seeing much of the US West. I saw my first "real" mountains when we got to the Tetons in Wyoming, and my interest in mountains and mountaineering was born. Fortunately, Vicki has always shared, even encouraged, that interest. Anyhow, it grew, and by the spring of 1972, we were hoping to become serious backpackers and climber. We read all of Colin Fletcher and Mountaineering: the Freedom of the Hills and Royal Robbins, and Orrin Bonney, and were trying to learn the elements of "clean" climbing then emanating from Ventura, California. Our plan was to drive our camper from Columbus, Ohio, where we now lived, to the Tetons, and for me to do the week-long mountaineering school, then to backpack and climb there and all over everywhere else within reach. Maybe even the remote Wind River Mountains, which we had heard of but not seen. Alas, when we got to Jenny Lake in later June, the Tetons were still buried in snow, and, rather than hang around for weeks and wait for it to melt, we heeded the advice of no less than Glenn Exum and headed for the Yosemite climbing school in sunny California. Indeed, we spent much of the rest of the summer camping, backpacking, and climbing, and the next several posts will convey some of the high-lights.

Yes, these are all nearly forty year-old pix from my on-going (never-ending?) digitization project, but, hey, mountains and scenery don't really change all that much in four decades.

En route to the Tetons

Our rig at Jenny Lake campground, a couple years before anavalanche off
Teewinot wrecked what has always been one of our favorite places; the rig
was a 1968 Dodge van, with camper interior and a fiberglass roof, which we
had bought in Miami in 1970

On Yosemite Creek, novice backpackers; we parked the van near Tuolomne
Meadows and then hiked down to Yosemite Valley, via...

Yosemite Creek, and...

Yosemite Falls

The Aesthete; hey, I was a philosophy student; red was a very in color that season
(seriously)

You can see the switch-backs of the Falls trail in the
shadow to the left; it was a miserable descent, in
100 degree heat; anyhow, we tented for a week at
Camp IV, seeing the Valley sights, and then headed
back up to Tuolomne via bus for mountaineering school

Thus; me on a practice climb above Tenaya Lake; the
climbing was clean, but climbers, duh, were only
beginning to think about wearing helmets...

Penelope's First Super Bowl; And A Digression...Or Two

As a pre-toddler, Penelope's screen-time is
rather severely limited, so I doubt she'll see
much of XLVI. But on Super Bowl eve, she
did display her hereditary loyalty to the
Dolphins, courtesy of Grand Aunt Carole
and cousin Lexi. 

Carole happily reminded me of Rebecca's old Dolphins jersey,
a family favorite. This would have been Xmas, 1974, as the
Dolphins were headed to their fourth consecutive Super Bowl
appearance. Alas, Oakland knocked them off, and the
Dolphins' consecutive appearance record stands at three.

Hereditary because for several decades our Dad (Carole and
mine) was scorekeeper at the Orange Bowl. As a kid, I got
to see a lot of football games, usually cheap seats or
"complimentary" (he knew everybody that worked there),
occasionally on the sidelines, or even the pressbox,
including the Dolphins' first regular season game and local
hero Joe Auer's 95 yard run back of the opening kick-off
against KC. (The season went down-hill from there). But I
digress. Above is a shot I took in December, 1972, a play-off
game against the Browns. You can see Earl Morrall throwing
an out-pattern to the diminuitive Howard Twilley, with Norm
Evans and Hall of Famer Larry Little protecting. The Browns
led for much of the game, but Morrall pulled it out in the
closing drive.  

And the Perfect Season continued, to Pittsburgh, and then a
victory over the Redskins in VII. Few now remember that it
was Earl Morrall who quarterbacked the Dolphins most of
that season. Starter Bob Griese went down in the 2nd quarter
of the fifth game, a broken leg administered by the Chargers'
estimable Deacon Jones. Griese did not return until the 2nd
half of of the AFC championship game against Pittsburgh, but
then showed why he was starter and another Hall of Famer.
All of which is to explain my antipathy for the Pats, who
threatened to eclipse the Perfect Season back in 2007-2008,
but were thwarted by these same Giants in the 2008 Super
Bowl. I still dislike the Pats. Go Giants!

OK, not everyone in the family is a fan; here Penelope sports
some new "sweet pea" head-gear from grandma; Penelope
knows what to do when the camera is on...

PS 21-17 Giants! Yes!