Trust In The Alpine Guide Service

Guiding last weekend for was borderline too much fun. Less than ideal conditions were overcome once again by incredible people with incredible attitudes. Already looking forward to next year with possibly a more inclusive name? Massive props to for an incredible presentation Saturday night and for setting up the 101 crew!

Katahdin sits in the geographical heart of Maine. Nestled in the center of Baxter State Park this mountain is home to an uber classic moderate alpine rock climb called The Armadillo. This is an account of a winter accent.

It started how most outlandish things do. Suggested by over whisky and tea in the bunkhouse the night before. “You know it’ll be the best weather of the week and that’s saying something. No one will believe it if you do it. Grab Mcdermott and go!” It’s true, we’d always dreamed of being crazy enough to climb it in the winter but conditions never made sense until this day.

What’s lost in translation here is that had as much experience with roped climbing at that time as I do surfing….next to none. What anyone that knows him can confirm however, is his overwhelming charisma in the face of challenge. Maybe that’s what it takes to regularly surf Maine breaks in February? Either way, this soon to be father agreed to the contract of the rope and we sent.

Ryan and I took off for the adventure of a lifetime while the crew and the rangers watched in the meadow. (After getting in some lazy laps during our approach of course). As we inched up the technical mixed approach in ski boots and crampons, we were rewarded with perfect dry granite for the summit push from the top of the pillar. I wish we could have known they were down there with eyes on us laughing at how much we had willingly bitten off.

We eventually topped out at sunset and had the privilege to ride the Cathedral Ridge chutes in the absolute worst snow conditions possible. Refrozen freeze thaw concrete. In the dark. And for me with a broken high back, meaning my lead leg had next to no control over the front of my Goat. True adventure.

We arrived back to the hut to a literal roar of applause, cheer, food and whiskey from of our friends upon opening the door. The rest of the evening consisted of telling the tail and sharing the stoke of a community of people that are hopelessly lost in one obsession: flirting with mountains.

Land of the Wabanaki.
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