Hellmouth Couloir is the thin aesthetic line dead center on Alex Lowe Peak.

In the Spring of 1997 Alex Lowe and Hans Saari made the first descent of an anemic ski line they nicknamed “Hellmouth Couloir” in the Gallatin Mountains of Montana. For years the exact location of this line had been lost and it gained mythical status. On September 15th 2005 a peak in the Gallatin National Forest was named “Alex Lowe Peak” for the memory of Alex who had unfortunately passed October 5, 1999 in an avalanche on the slopes of Shishapangma in Tibet. It was then unveiled to many that the Hellmouth Couloir was located on this peak. Kyle and a partner through research found a Summer photo of the peak and along with a brief description that Saari and Lowe had made they discovered the location of the line. Then in the Winter of 2006 they made the second known descent of Hellmouth Couloir. Over the past 4 years a few others have made the descent. Kyle has visited the area many times since 2006 but has been unable to make another descent of the couloir.

Jump to present day.   Kyle just got back from a month long ski expedition in the Fairweather Range of Alaska and asked if I was in for an attempt on Hellmouth. Being a glutton for punishment and maybe a little foolish I agreed to his proposition.

For the last day in May we were surprised at the Winter like conditions, especially below the saddle between Blackmore and Elephant Mountain on the 7 mile approach. At the saddle you get your first view of the peak and you quickly understand why few have gone for this descent- it’s intimidating! Our view is partial due to weather and in retrospect this may have eased my anxieties a little.  From the saddle we descended and crossed the valley between Blackmore and Alex Lowe Peak. The snow turns out to be better than expected and we gladly milk out every last inch of momentum before putting skins on again and making our ascent. We choose to skin up the East face of the peak keeping distance while we make our way through a choke. Conditions were stable but- safety is no accident- so we proceeded with caution. Eventually we gained the ridge, here we removed our skis and carefully kicked steps to the summit, exposure here is pretty intense and any slip is pretty much out of the question.

The author making turns on the upper snowfield.

A quick celebration leads straight to preparation for our descent. At that moment I was very glad that Kyle was with me because the entrance to the couloir is somewhat blind, on a very exposed hanging snowfield any error here may led to you being flushed off the 1000′+ cliff. Despite the exposure the skiing is good which gives us both a touch more confidence. At the bottom of the snowfield the couloir begins and we set our sites on a tree sitting on the lip of the first cliff, which is the first of two consecutive rappels. Fortunately the anchor was fresh, but being leery I backed it up with another sling and descended into the Hellmouth.

The first rappel

Top of the second rappel

After the rappels we ski- conditions are tricky, a double fall line with a touch of avy debris from a previous slide.  Descending a couple hundred feet an interesting feature of the line comes into view.  A large chalkstone partially blocks the couloir leaving a “mouth” on one side and a tight choke on the other.

Making my way down the couloir

The “mouth” agape seems to want to swallow you whole, digest you and then defecate your remains down the rest of the chute. Evidently you can ski under the chalkstone if conditions are right but we both opted for the choke. Once past the choke everything opens up and we exit the chute on a mix of pow and ice chunks from an old slide.

Getting ready for the choke and dodging the "mouth"

It was here where a decision was made- or maybe I just let my big mouth flap.
“Do you want to throw in Blackmore for extra credit?” The proposition tested the silence.
Kyle being in uber-shape after Alaska was of course game. I soon would regret that statement. We put our skins back on and made our way back to the saddle. My legs were so fatigued and began to loose function as we climbed- almost seizing with every step. Once at the saddle I secretly hoped Kyle would want to back down- after all it was getting late.
“So what do you think?” Kyle asks.
“I am in!” I blurt back.  The summit seemed close enough…
I follow Kyle up the gentle ridge to the summit, my legs are screaming now like never before.  Then we reach the summit and now that my body knows the goal has been reached the pain subsides.  We drop off the North face ski one of the main lines then cut right hard hoping to catch the ridge. We gain it with little difficulty and then make our descent out to the truck, where two ice cold beers that Kyle stashed in the snow had been patiently waiting.  It was no surprise that they were the perfect reward for a splendid two peak day.

The tempting North Ridge of Qua Peak

After four hours of driving through the interior of British Columbia we arrived at our destination: the Ymir Motel, in the forgotten gold mining town of the same name. This place is the staging area for most trips into the Ymir backcountry–and, it’s cheap, $12 per person per night cheap–by sharing rooms.  Turns out the owner of the hotel is an art collector and purchased the 18 room hotel for his prized possessions, thousands of painting of all styles, covering every wall. Imagine a museum crossed with a nineteenth century brothel. We slept well under the smug smell of oil paint while dreams of pillow lines ran through our heads.

Back in November a group of us decided to plan a trip to a backcountry cabin or yurt in Canada. The beauty of the Ymir Yurts is its blend of cat skiing and your more standard backcountry self propulsion. The terrain and deep access was hard to beat. Using both snowmobiles and a snowcat, you’re dropped roughly 32 K from the nearest road.

Overnight the area had received much more snow than predicted–about two feet, and the next morning it was still nuking. One of the snowcat guides wore a grin, now knowing that this below average season had just received a little extension. This grin was opposite to the expression that Trevor, the owner of the whole operation and a mountain guide, wore–and rightfully so. We dug a pit and discovered that the sun crust and surface hoar from the dry weather from previous weeks was now a perfect sliding layer, transforming the snow pack from weak to very weak.  Carefully, we skied some great trees, meeting the cat again at a clear cut. Killer turns on killer snow.

Jess and Dave checking out Wildhorse Ridge and the North Clear Cut

Because conditions were extreme Trevor opted to skin with us to the pass that accesses the yurt. Usually parties are left at the bottom of the pass to fend for themselves.  While ascending the slope to the saddle we remotely triggered 3 slabs, one of which ran about 800 feet. Skiing big lines was out of the question.  One at a time we gingerly skied down the other side of the saddle to the yurt.  The yurt is best described as a two story marvel of Canadian ingenuity.

Dave remembering that he needs to breathe.

The next day we ventured to the saddle again, gaining vertical using a low angle approach. Overnight another foot of snow had fallen.  As we ascended, the snowpack settled 6 inches in a 20 foot circle of which Dave was the center. He was skinning only 20 feet in front of me.  The whumping air beneath the snow almost blew my sunglasses off.  After that Dave and I switched breaking trail.  Soon after I crested the ridge, I heard a large whump, and felt some settling beneath me. Dave crested the ridge just behind me and got a view of the cross loaded side.  That whump I’d heard was the start of yet another slide that cut  300 feet  across the slope just under the ridge and ran 1000 .  By the end of the day the 6 slides we’d remotely triggered beat the number of laps we’d made by one. Despite the high avy conditions, the tree skiing was ridiculously good.  The dps Wailer skis I brought on the trip just killed it: super floaty, buttery smooth, playful and light even at full speed. Everyone was jealous.

We’d been eyeing the South facing slope behind the yurt since our arrival.  We’d watched it for a few days; it looked consistent and safe, so on Sunday, under splitter blue skies, we set a skin track to check conditions.  The slope’s angle just touched 30 degrees at some rollovers, and was heavily treed, so we pushed on.  The sun-softened snow skied so well- so creamy- so delish.  Despite the big lines lurking across the cirque we were content, knowing that  even a rogue rabbit could trigger a slide in these conditions.

Looking towards Qua Peak: all the visible slides are outlined in red.

Exiting on the final day had made us all nervous. Every time we had even gone near a slope something slid.  One at a time we descended, and for the first time nothing on or near the slope moved.  We then skied the clear cut and met the snowmobiles for an express ride out.  Some of the group, myself included, spun a couple laps through the clear cut while we waited. Blower over the head! Lots of windblown features to play around, which made the kind of snow that you dream of–or at least I do. Soon the guides arrived and picked up our packs, we skinned the last steep hill, then skied down to the cat to ride out the rest of our 32K exit.  What a trip.  Back on the road.

Back to the States.  Whitefish, Montana. A much needed rest day.

One day at Whitefish Mountain on scary icy, thin, terrible conditions, made the best of it by killing some corduroy.

The next day after a late start (thanks to some  St. Patrick’s day car bombs), I somehow convinced Dave to go up to go for a tour.  Like most tours in Montana, Jewel Basin would have been a quick jaunt with a snowmobile, but we  were only human powered.

Plenty of snow in the Jewel Basin parking lot -- yes, that is the outhouse.

A four mile approach led to some great views of the Flathead Valley, and about 20 good turns on the North facing slope.

Dave making his way to the top of the Checkerboard- Jewel Basin

The final decent was about as painful as it gets.  An icy road with three-miles of what I can only call death bumps.  All I could dream of was luscious powder from the days before–and yes, it got me through the ride home.

Conditions that both Kyle and myself have encountered this season certainly cause one to reflect more on safety and risk aspects of doing the things we love in the mountains. Snow sense, experience, and knowledge are the best weapon against getting caught in a slide. I wear a beacon and always will, but it’s no magic bullet, and I think we sometimes forget that. Once completely buried, statistics show that beacons hardly decrease mortality rates. Little data’s been collected in real life tests for Avalungs, but I suspect these devices will statistically show a significant reduction in mortality. The hardest equipment data out there, and what seems to make the most difference in avalanche mortality rates, is deploying an air-bag. These devices have hit main stream in Europe and Canada, but have yet to develop a foothold in the United States. I’m hoping this shifts soon.  Using one of these systems wouldn’t change my decision making, but it would give me peace of mind knowing that if I do get caught in a slide survival is more likely.

Myself on the Hollywood Headwall

Last Friday, five of us met at the Daily Bread parking lot at 5:30 AM for dawn patrol.   Kyle had made it up to Frazier Basin on Wednesday, they found stable conditions and the skiing excellent.  Once I heard the possibility of going up on Friday, especially since Kyle has access to two snowmobiles slashing the multi-hour skin to Frazier Basin to less than a 30 minute tow- I was in.  This was my first time to Frazier and I must say I was blown away.  The North Bridgers have so many aesthetic looking couloirs- it is like God himself has carved each mountain vertically with a giant fork.

The red glow of the sunrise hit us just as we made it to the saddle, we then prepared ourselves for our descent into the basin.  One at a time we skied down the North facing access bowl making huge GS turns.  The snow was soft, fast  and predictable, this entrance into the basin was the perfect indication that it was going to be a great day.  Because we went in on sleds, and the nature of the lines we intended to ski, we all had brought our “heavy” alpine gear- well one of us was on teles.  Kyle and I had brought Alpine Trekkers and skins which made the jaunt across the bottom of the basin to access the main lines much easier than the other option which was post-holing across the basin.  Once across the basin the real boot packing began.

There had been a couple inches of snow between when Kyle was there on Wednesday and this had conveniently covered up the boot pack making progress slow on the first lap.  Once on the ridge, quads burning,  we made it over to the aptly named Hollywood Headwall.  The Hollywood Headwall looks like something that is in Alaska or Canada, not Montana due to some obvious fluted features.

Johnny on the lower part of Hollywood Headwall

Johnny dropped in first and cruised through the cliffs and chutes below.  I was up next, I picked a line that was just right of Johnny’s, the first turns through the flutes were fantastic.  Then I met up with Johnny’s line exiting through an anemic chute.  What a classic!  I was psyched.  This instantly gave me more fuel- I was up for another lap- Johnny was also up for another.  So I kicked my way up the boot pack with the uber aesthetic Red Couloir in my mind.

Heidi slashing a turn.

Kyle, Heidi and Blake made their way over to Red Couloir while Johnny and I were on our way up.  I could hear them hoot and holler as they made their way down.  This was going to be good.   I quickly made it across the ridge  to the entrance.  The couloir’s skier’s left side has a bright red overhanging cliff that gives the couloir it’s name- so aesthetic and slightly ominous.  I scan the entrance with my ski tips hung over the edge and drop in.  The snow was certainly variable the left side under the cliff is crusty and the right side was soft and supple.  I let my skis go, making long GS turns speed increasing as I descend.  Near the bottom I see what looks like a little roller.  For some reason I decide it would be a great idea to hit it.  As I closed in it turned out to be a rock barely covered by some snow… it was too late.  My right ski kicked out and at that moment I thought, no I knew, I was finished.  This was one of those times when you don’t know how you landed it- but you did.  I was relieved because by that point I  just flying out of the chute.   At this point I had to decide whether  to call it a day or catch up to the others and squeeze out another lap.  I made it over to the boot pack and started ascending- I guess I am a masochist.   I met up with the group right when they were dropping in to one of the first lines you come to when you get to the ridge.  We dropped in one at a time.

Blake working down the last line of the day.

This line was narrow, but not too narrow and the snow was soft and creamy.  This was a great line to end the day.  To exit the basin we kicked steps back up to the saddle that we entered on.  When we reached the saddle we all took one last look at the lines we had just skied and made our way out to the truck.

The author sampling some silky pow.

After Outdoor Retailer Dave Downing and I, plus 4 others, one dog and a ridiculous amount of gear strategically stuffed ourselves into a minivan and set off toward Carbondale, CO. Carbondale is where I grew up and I was excited to revisit after about a 10 year hiatus. Dave and I had planned to ski some of the backcountry outside of Marble, which is about an hour drive outside of Carbondale. Unfortunately avalanche conditions turned from bad to worse when a strong Southern storm dropped about 3 feet of fluff in 2-3 days. Our suspicions of instability were vindicated once we had heard reports of large slides being remotely triggered in Marble. We immediately opted for a whole new approach for our days in Colorado.

Dave looking good as always.

Low angle slopes and snowmobiling on safe open meadows was the obvious and reliable option- and the best remedy for my cabin fever. One area in particular, a local standby when conditions are questionable near Sunlight Ski Resort called Willie’s proved to have great skiing.

Yours truly hucking a small cornice

With only around 1200′ of vertical multiple laps are possible and with little traffic and plenty of pow to go around. Even on these slopes we still saw evidence in the snow of instability with lots of cracking and other signs of movement. Curious to see how unstable things really were, I stomped a cornice off very easily and was given a little scare when it rocked up under my downhill edge and lifted my leg in the air. The large block then proceeded to careen into a tree at the end of the short 50′ slope. To mix things up on another day we traveled to the top of McClure Pass and rode snowmobiles West back to a friend’s cabin.

Dave getting the tow.

After playing around on the snowmobiles a bit we threw our skis on and towed each other across the powder fields. It was like water skiing on glass accept with a touch more control. I experienced an excellent crash when my skis tips discovered a rock beneath the surface and I double ejected from my bindings sailing through the air and somehow ended up unscathed.

Skinning up with Mount Sopris in the background.

Our final day was a beauty and with little time we did a little skinning right outside of town and of course the views of Mt. Sopris were superb. That afternoon Dave and I reluctantly jumped into our next ride this one to Denver for SIA.

The poison is seeping in and there is nothing I can do about it…

But let me back up a bit.

I have phobias even though I hate to admit it.  Some people, namely my wife, gladly shares with others that I have many.  Most of these fears come from the fact that I am allergic to just about everything, cats, horses, penicillin, pollen etc.  I have also been known to be paranoid of other things  like when I found some perfect boulders up here in Montana.  I instantly became suspicious of everyone.  Who should I tell?  Should I reveal the sacred loaction?

The author working a project on the Pagoda Boulder

After much deliberation and banter around the office I decided that I might as well throw a couple pics out there.  Everyone reassured me that the hordes will not be crawling over the boulders like they might in Colorado.

Aaron on the fun problem Sour Mash

As we work some of the problems, thirsty wasps were drinking the sweat off my legs and arms.  One of these black and yellow insects inadvertently gets caught in the hem of my shorts and proceeds to wallop me twice in the thigh.  Then it flies off in thousands of triumphant wingbeats.   I flashback to the last time I was stung by a wasp my foot swelled up to the size of a melon, hooray for allergies.  This was poignant message that the bouldering session was over or maybe that I should tell no one this place exists.

Yes I have phobias but I guess I will give some people a peek even though it may sting me in the end.

Yours truly on another Pagoda Boulder project

Kevin Brumbach into the goods on Crack of Doom

Occasionally I have some time to leave the gentle embrace of Bozeman.  This Summer has had an unusual amount of precipitation making such departures even more mandatory.   The City Rocks in southern Idaho is a classic American rock climbing mecca that has eluded my many rock climbing tours. With 30% chance of precipitation in the forecast for the third weekend in a row, Kevin’s suggestion of a 6 hour drive to climb for the weekend seemed reasonable. Through sales office banter Kyle was able evoke my plan and quickly invited himself along. I was quietly elated knowing that a third would be a welcome rest for leader or belayer.

Friday afternoon Kyle and I left to meet Kevin down in the City with plenty of PBR and elk steaks.  No self respecting Montanan will part with either of these two elements.  Dark set in and so did the potato fields which continue to haunt us with their bleak and unexciting scenery.  Eventually we hit unpaved roads missed turns, double backed, and eventually found our way to “the city”.

There is nothing like arriving somewhere in the dark, then when to wake with the soft light of dawn unveiling a whole new landscape.  Saturday morning was no different, it is obvious why this place is called the City of Rocks.  Towers, houses and condominiums of exquisite granite cover the landscape.

Kevin on the tips section of Crack of Doom

Kevin had mentioned this climb called “Crack of Doom”.  After climbing for 15 years now I have realized that any climb with that sort of name is best left untouched.  Anything associated with pain or discomfort or even lack of sleep should be left to the phenoms.  But we set towards the climb and the ridiculously quick approach ~5 mins put us at the base.

Patrick digging the Crack of Doom

Kevin has the need for a Thin Slice

The next day we had set our eyes and my “coon eyes” from lack of sunscreen on some of the classics in the shade behind Bath Rock.  These fantastic lines contained great climbing on cool features.

Patrick getting into the business on Gemini

Delicious crimps on Gemini

Are the holds better if you wear a nice shirt? Kevin Brumbach thinks so ...

Of course later that day the wind picked up and thunderheads began to form.  It was a sign.  My burned face was also a sign that Mother Potato no longer wanted us in Southern Idaho.  We jumped into the Silverado and headed our cold loving butts back to Bozeman in hopes that this Fall might be an Indian Summer.

Photos by Kyle Christenson

Once we had settled down we made the casual approach over to the area called the Bulletheads.  We ventured up some fixed lines and jumped on the rock.

Loni putting a new generation Snapdragon to the test.

Starting with some cruiser stuff to get used to the rock and get our bodies loose after the 13+ hours of driving.     That night it became apparent that the atmosphere in the campground was quite relaxed.  It was a climbing tailgate party!  People could be found cooking behind their vehicles, sharing food and beers and stories of the vertical world filled the air.

We awoke the next morning to find our friend Kevin he had driven up from Seattle Wednesday night and was laying in his sleeping bag outside our tent.  After some discussion we decided to go check out some more single pitch climbs at the Smoke Bluffs area.

Loni stretching for a good lock at the Smoke Bluffs.

The skies were splitter blue and the climbing was as well, excellent single pitch cracks and technical slabs.

Kevin feeling accused on Partners in Crime (5.11)

That night Kevin and I had learned that the Peregrine Falcon closure had been lifted from the coveted Grand Wall.

Kevin and I had planned to climb the Grand Wall when we first discussed the trip back in March.  We had learned that it was pretty farfetched when the wall was closed to climbing.  The climb looked so stellar we knew we had to get on it  After talking it over we decided the lifting of the closure was a good omen- it was a no brainer to go for it.  This climb is a gem and we knew we would be off to the races the next morning to get on the route before other parties.  Some beta from the nightly tailgater in the parking lot revealed that a 6:00 AM start would give us plenty time to beat the onslaught.  We racked our gear and got everything dialed for the next morning.

The red line is approximate route of the Grand Wall 5.11 A0.

We woke, boiled up some water with the Reactor and devoured some oatmeal and made the quick approach to the base.  The climb was spectacular and flawless.  Kevin and I were both kicking ourselves the whole way up- why had we not brought a camera?  Hopefully this link to the page on Mountain Project will suffice http://www.mountainproject.com/v/international/canada/british_columbia/105806397.  Everything went well and we made it camp to camp in 6 hours, not bad and to our amazement no one else was on the route the at all that day.

Kevin left Sunday morning- well I guess that’s what you have to do when you are trying to get into Med School.  He was content with the Grand Wall or at least he said he was.  Loni and I said our goodbyes and went to check out Murrin and Octopuses Garden at Smoke Bluffs.

Yours truly testing out the new XXX Trance.

Loni has a knack for choosing areas and routes that though low in grade usually are wide in size.  Which is good for offwidth training but not so good on the knees, elbows, head, shoulders and back.  Scrapes abound.   We climbed many pitches most of which I was running it out way above my last piece of pro.

Our New Snapdragon poses for the camera.

Monday which was going to be our last day was unfortunately a rain day so we packed up and made the drive back home.  Too bad because we had chose a long route that day.  We now have incentive to go back.  Well we had four days of perfect weather in coastal British Columbia- how much more can you ask for?

Joining in the elephant train.

They have about 120 Asian Elephants divided into three groups (riding, show and white).  The show elephants are used to display how the elephants were used in the past to move timber and assist with logging.

The riding elephants for riding and the rare white elephants are partial albino elephants which only 11 of which exist are for the king.  Loni and I went on a short elephant ride through the forest- very cool.  The ride was a lot more topsy turvy than I thought it would be, but still a fantastic way to move through the jungle.

You think your two year old is talented, the elephants painted these flowers right before our very eyes.

Elephants obviously produce a lot of waste.  One of the most interesting things about the E.C.C. is how they use the elephant dung.  They actually use it to produce a biofuel (methane) to generate electricity and for cooking for the entire facility.  In addition to the biofuel they make paper from the fibers left over from the fibers they also make fertilizer.  That in of itself is amazing- even more amazing was the fact that the place is self sustained all of the bananas, sugar cane, bamboo and other foods are grown and the E.C.C..  We also saw the hospital with all the facilities to work on elephants- and they have a mobile unit that does all of the mobile unit for free!  After the E.C.C. Naret took us to the “jungle market” outside of Lampang- this place had food that is certainly based on a dare.  Evidently the people of Chang Mai do not even attempt to eat.  Here are a couple of the tasty treats that our eyes feasted on., Red Ant Egg Salad- though the eggs are still raw and ants were hatching from them- you need to cook them.  Lots of frogs of all different types some alive in buckets some dead and some on sticks.  Skinned snakes, skinned jungle cats, eels, live fish hanging in bags like you are buying them for an aquarium.

From upper left to right: (I don't know, skinned rat, skinned snake, skinned jungle cat, intestines and up front frogs.)

All sorts of fruits we bought some fried banana and Thai Mangoes- which are small mangoes that you can eat without pealing the skin.  Naret suggested that I try some insects- after the grasshopper I tried in Chang Mai I felt ready for something else.

Naret and I enjoying some crickets.

But after seeing the live beetles that you buy by the bag I wasn’t so sure.  Naret assured me that they would be fried.  They only had crickets left to Naret’s disappointment.  So I sampled one- not bad like sour cream and chive chips once they add all of the spices and herbs. I bought a bag of crickets and snacked on them on the way back to Chang Mai.  I hope I don’t get some weird parasite- crickets and grasshoppers are well known parasite hosts…

-Patrick

Waiting on this beach for the four person discount to Tonsai.

We did not want to pay the 100 BHT for two people so we waited about a half hour and two others showed up.  Making our trip 50 BHT for two less than 2 dollars.

Everything for the month in a Big Sky and a G-5000.

Once arriving we had no idea where to go and the locals just pointed us up the hill.  So we blindly went and ran into the Dream Valley Resort where we got a bungalow for 500 BHT per night plus breakfast for both of us- a killer deal.

Loni passes some longtails on Tonsai Beach.

The views on the west side of the peninsula are far superior to the east.  Long-tails racing from Ao Nang outside the bay and Koh Po Da , Chicken and Happy Island all lined up like gems towering from the Adaman Sea.  After lunch we went to go check out The Nest climbing area- which is like 200 yds. from our bungalow.  Wow it is a scorcher today sweat just oozing off our bodies.  We warmed up on a glassy 6a.  Loni had a hard time with it the climb it was a real piece of “kea” any way.  Next I got on a 7a+ called Jungle Love a couple climbs down that was superb.  Steep sloping rails that led to a mantle then onto a column to an airy finish on a stalactite at 30 meters.  Wild!  I then led Banana Hammock 6a+ a five star route for sure up a massive tufa formation.  You literally hump your way up it for a bit, straddling the tufa- very fun and steep for the grade.

Battling the mega tufa on Banana Hammock 6a

Loni loved this climb it was one of the best so far.  We had dinner at the resort great food- Pad Khing for Loni- and I had Khao Pad Supporot.  There is a sweet bar right by our bungalow (dangerous) that has mixed drinks for 100 BHT Loni had some Pina Coladas and I had some Singhas- they even gave me a beer coozy to keep in chill in the tropical heat.  The bar also sported a old slack line that I got on for a couple  minutes.  Wow I am rusty…

-Patrick

18 meters up and going for it.

Hard climbing from the kayak to the ladder and up the rock, but once we were on the wall the climbing was fairly easy.  I wasn’t sure how my ankle would do with hitting the water, so I was nervous to climb very high.  Hitting the water and jumping from the rock was exhilarating.  I do wish that my blasted ankle was more reliable, so I could have jumped from a much higher point.

It doesn't get much better than this.

Then we headed to a “semi”- deserted beach for a lunch of Khao Pad and relaxation in the sun.  Patrick and others did some bouldering here.  We then headed to Chicken Island after a brief stop at a very small white sand beach for snorkeling.

The Chicken Island climbs were much higher and more intimidating!  Patrick loved it and was by far the best climber of the group.

Way off the deck.

We climbed with several Australians, a Canadian, a few Swedish girls and others I’m not sure of- quite a fun and energetic group!  Shortly after we arrived back at Railay, we enjoyed some Thai Pancakes (pineapple and banana/egg) they were akin to an amazing crepe.  The sun, swimming and climbing drained our bodies of most of our energy…

-Loni Odenbeck