In the 1970’s the Grand Teton’s black ice couloir had a pretty stout reputation, only heroes need apply. I applied twice and had my application rejected both times. The first time I was a total newbie to grand alpinism in the tradition of the Tetons, as well as new to ice climbing. My partner Harvey and I got lost on the west face of the Grand looking for the black ice couloir, and after wondering about for 17 pitches of rock, snow, and ice, found ourselves bivying on some ledge on the northwest corner of the Grand. We spent a chilly but otherwise safe, sleepless night watching the Milky Way rotate over our heads. The following morning we rapped down to the Grandstand, then down to the Teton glacier below and hiked back around to the lower saddle. No black ice, but an education to be sure.

Several years later Jimmy Newberry and I were back for a rematch, but with better gear, better beta, and much more experience. We got an early morning start on the Valhalla Traverse and were around to where the ice climbs started by fairly early in the morning.


The weather was clear and beautiful, but we were still way too late by black ice standards, as one needs to be above the crux mixed pitch by the time the sun strikes the upper portions of the Grand and starts melting things out. As we were deciding on whether to commit to it anyway we heard the distinctive “wop, wop, wop” noise of a helicopter. “Seems awfully early for the rescue bird to be out, doesn’t it Jimmy?” It wasn’t the rescue bird, it was the Grand Teton’s own bird of prey. This 6 ft by one ft needle of rock was falling through the air, and as it rotated it sounded just like a helicopter. This was followed by the sound of incoming artillery as the thing hit near the base of the black ice and exploded into a thousand pieces of Precambrian shrapnel. Jimmy and I looked at each other and decided that we really had no pressing engagement in that particular couloir on that particular day, and went up the enclosure couloir instead.


The lower half of the enclosure couloir was mostly snow but it turned to ice the higher we got. The setting was spectacular, with an alpine feel beyond anything we were used to back home. Best of all, it was completely free from falling rock. We were able to swing leads, making good progress and staying warm.


Near the top of the enclosure couloir where it narrows down, the ice had started to melt out and we scrambled up the rock. All of this snow, ice, and rock scrambling comprised another full measure of alpine wonderfulness, for which we were immensely grateful. We were living celebrants instead of dead heroes, for which we were also grateful.


It was early afternoon on another bluebird sky day and we ambled back down to the lower saddle. Had beer been available we would have had one…. or two or three. As it was we hung out enjoying all there was to enjoy at that exact moment.