Guest blog by Rob Griz.

Talisman: (n) A small amulet or other object, often bearing magical symbols, worn for protection against evil spirits or the supernatural. (Wiktionary.org)

The Talisman is no ‘small object’, more like a substantial objective. The route has to be, in my opinion, one of Colorado’s best ‘true’ mixed routes, magical if you may. Three pitches, trad gear, rock, ice, choss, all at the stiffer end of the grades. After heading into Skylight the week before and seeing the route for the first time, I knew exactly what I was gonna be doing the following weekend…oh yeah boy!

No bolts, no bullshit, straight on skill, a pure line that is trad to the core. An early start had us busting across the base of the avy run-out and traversing trees into the drainage. Little did we know another party had set off ahead of us with the same line in mind. The skinning was spectacular and allowed cruiser climbing speed, unknowingly passing above the aforementioned party. There is much more to that story, but let’s say that it was a most appropriate score and an excellent start to our day as we motored above them to the base of the route.

Thirty feet of delaminated egg-shell stood between us and the 450’ above. I opted to climb the right side via a chossy M6+R line that took one piece of gear, a #4 wire behind a loose block (I believe that piece may have sufficed as my “Talisman”). Amazing when something looks easier than it really is. It probably wouldn’t have felt so rough had I not ripped off 3 hunks of rock, but I managed to stay glued to the stone. Nothing like a heady warm-up to get ya going. Cruiser but funky ice wandered a bit left, leaving me to traverse right to set up Tony for pitch 2. Tony arrived at the ledge with a high-five and sigh. After pulling through the lower mixed antics, I could tell he wasn’t too stoked to have at the next pitch. A few decompression minutes on the ledge, some gear exchange and he was up on the thin ‘cicle having a look.

It’s always fun when one “has a look”. This usually is a slow sequence of linked moves which, in some cases, you can’t reverse easily, at which point you become committed to going up….well, because it just might be easier…maybe. Tony styled it, linking ice blobs with sublimated holes and good rock gear. The final 30’ was quite interesting with a skeletal lattice of ice, barely adhered to a wide, vertical crack. With a loud ‘hoot n’ holler’, I knew he was off and sitting pretty on the ledge. Seconding on traversing lines always adds some spice, so I had to keep it clean and honest. A final re-rack and I was off on the final stretch. A sweet little rock traverse led to nice steep ice which kicked back after about 80’.

All tolled, we rocked it out in WI5 M6+R conditions. A good night of planning, the right gear, the right amount of gear and a solid head made the route such a pleasure. Our rap was a bit challenging as it put us 50’ off the next rap tree, and had we poked around more up top, we probably woulda found another station further to the climber’s right (as we had kinda already known). No big deal though, we had some big-ass shit-eatin’ grins that graced our sun tanned mugs into the late evening toast.

Driving back from skiing in Marble yesterday, it’s pretty apparent the ice season in Redstone has come to a close. The Pencil fell down, the Pillar is missing it’s top, the Drool is running with water. What a season it was though! Aside from all the incredible ice that formed up, I also got more dialed in in the gear department. Along with the Black Diamond Punisher Gloves, I have found the holy grail of warm belay mittens. They are the Black Diamond Mercury Mitts, and these things are toasty! The first time you put them on you may be confused, as they seem to be generating their own heat. I didn’t know that the geniuses over at BD had developed minature nuclear reactors, but apparently that’s the case. They are sized large, which makes it easy to wear a thin liner glove underneath. This is nice for when you need to remove the mitts for some dexterous task, but don’t want to expose your hands to the cold. You can also remove the liners if you don’t need all that warmth, and substitute something of your own. These are the warmest things I’ve ever had on my hands, if you are looking for the perfect ice climbing belay handwear, look no further. This is as good as it gets.

By Tracy Wilson, who climbed Avocado Gully for the first time last week.

BJ Sbarra on the huge second pitch.

For many of the locals, Avocado Gully is part of their winter training routine. It’s 13 miles south of Carbondale, and is a true classic, offering three fun pitches only ten minutes from the road. I know some people use the term classic loosely, but not I.

Are you SURE these are gonna keep my feet warm?

That being said, here’s the top ten reason why Avocado Gully is the bomb diggity bro-bra!

1. A quick 15 minute drive from Carbondale.
2. Right now it’s fatter than the average American.
3. Bolted belays.
4. The alpine-esque feeling.
5. There is only one steep pitch, on the hike in (see video)
6. Avocados are tasty.
7. You don’t have to be an ice climber to enjoy it.
8. It’s tucked away in a narrow gully that feels much further from the road than it is.
9. A great butt slide on the way down.
10. The car heater is only 10 minutes away!

Here’s a little more insight:

It should be around for a couple more weeks as long as it doesn’t get too warm, so go see for yourself why it’s such a fun climb!

Tracy Wilson is a recent transplant from Boise, Idaho, who is learning to embrace the long, cold, Colorado winters.

Guest blog by Rob Griz.

Cody is a bit of a stretch from Frisco CO, but I heard good things about the pure ice lines that lace the hills of the South Fork valley. All of my drives through Wyoming have been an adventure. Passing through towns like Douglass, claiming to be the “Original home of the Jackalope” is fun enough, but looking up above town’s highest hill and seeing the two-story cut-out of a Jackalope is something you need to experience in person.

Drifting through the core of the state, antelope litter the landscape and big birds of prey dot the endless sky. Miles of barbed wire chase the road, sometimes trapping plastic bags or newspapers that flutter like Tibetan prayer flags in the wild Wyoming winds.
My travels take me through new places, most notably the Wind River Canyon. A beautiful gorge cut by the now dammed Wind River. Like a lesson in geology I tunnel through granite and flamingo pink streaks of pegmatite before hitting all eras of sandstones marked by the roadside signs. To my surprise there were a few choice ice lines that managed to form up in the canyon, mental note to self for the return trek home!

I bet an ol’ Iowa farm boy never thought he would stake claim to a town so close to such excellent ice climbing. Then again my guess is that he never went there to climb ice. Over a hundred years later, the Big Horn Basin encompassing the South Fork of the Shoshone River is a paradise…for wild game and wild climbers alike.

Never have I been outside a park boundary and observed a place teeming with so much wildlife. Each day as we ventured into the sweeping valley of the South Fork, at prime dawn/dusk viewing time, we passed herds of deer, groups of elk, a handful of bald eagles, a few coyotes, red fox and a flock of Chuckars. Of course each day we were greeted and subsequently heckled by the local ravens, who ruled these chossy canyons and precipitous cliff we wandered through. Yeah, this place is paradise for man and animal alike. I couldn’t help but laugh at the number of mule deer that far outnumbered the head of cattle grazing the valley floor. Are they a competitive species? All I can attest to is that they are a docile and somewhat arrogant group of critters. They own this valley and it shows in the way they saunter in front of my truck, paying no attention to the critter-crushing bumper that adorns the front of my rig. Seems that they carry the Spirit of the Ghost Dance with them, a proud invincibility.

I’m here with one good old friend, Tommy, and two new, all of us here with one intention, to have a blast on the South Fork secrets. We quickly establish a morning ritual of a 5:30 am rise from the bunks of Wild Bill’s Bunkhouse and fuel up for the day. Not long and we’re packed in the Tundra heading southwest outta town under cover of a starry sky. The morning glow gives just enough light to navigate through the ‘Blacktail’ brigade crossing the dirt road. The rubber rolls a bit slower and we scope out our pull-off for the Legg Creek Drainage. Tommy has been here before but he’s got one thing on his mind, Ovisight (Rough translation: Sheep sighting), a 3 pitch Grade WI5/6 route. Like a bunch of recon soldiers, we dump out of the truck and ramble across the rocky valley floor to the wide outflow of the Legg Creek drainage.

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Guest blog by Rob Griz.

Cave man’s view of the Ice Palace.

Rifle holds a unique mystique amidst it’s overhanging limestone walls. The stream meanders below, ravens cackle overhead and pure white ice lines stretch high into the most cobalt of skies. Sipping from the tailgate, we watch as the morning sun quickly rises over the East rim, beginning a daily ritual of destruction. If you’ve never been much of a believer in solar energy, spend a late winter morning in Rifle canyon watching the spectacle unfold. Free-hanging pillars weighing tons silently release their grip from the limestone lip, crashing down on the carnage below. It’s a bit exciting, albeit unnerving, standing behind the semi-translucent curtain, racking up.

Tony the cave man.

Like a rodeo cowboy with spurs jingling, the sounds of tingling aluminum and the clanging of cold steel echo off the quiet canyon walls. I leave the warm safety of the massive cave under the Ice Palace and step onto the face. The detached pillar reverberates with a guttural echo from the back of the cave with each tool placement. In the back of my mind I’m fully aware of the 4-inch gap that separates this curtain from the upper ice above. I can’t help but revel in the sun-tempered ice on the steep sheet, easy sticks all the way up make it feel like I’m cheating. A grade easier fer’ sure. A rattly hook in the fracture line and things start to get interesting. The final 35’ to the anchor is a bunch of sun baked shit with dollops of funky cooked snow. Water, the Yin/Yang of all ice routes, proves to be hurting more than helping my passage. The upper slab runs heavy with water. Knowing all to well that moving water carries so much heat, I resign myself to the conditions that may loom above. I start having conversation within, “Don’t count on any gear and work with the slushy ‘eggshell’, rely on the surface lattice to allow you to connect the dots”. Poking through the icy crust, I make my way up through the ‘soft-serve custard’, landing some secure turf placements and a root hook, life is good. Clip in, sit back and soak up some sun.

Big and beautiful, the Ice Palace.

Daggers are dropping and even with my 70’s, there may not be enough rope to initially belay safely, so Tony ties in and hops on for the ride. He cruises the line and even though I was a bit light on the gear, I can only imagine that by now he can pull those warm 22’s out by hand. See, I’ve learned that in many ways ice climbing is a game of chasing time. The clock starts the minute you start swinging. The sunny conditions in Rifle give you that extra element that synchronizes with the ‘seconds’ hand. Even snow packing those screws did little in blazing sun. Rapping off, precarious pillars are sent down and the shower spray chases us down the rope.

Creative lines on Stone Free.

Just warming up we search for more contrived and difficult lines. Linking starts behind blown-out pillars to short roofs formed from snapped daggers, traversing around to the face and gapping a free-hanger to a steep finish on fresh ice. All what you make it. Although I climbed out Rifle in a day, I found that on my second trip back, a creative mind and a desire to run laps can make the travel worth the effort. Talking creative, a handful of challenging mixed lines will surely sprout bolts. The temperatures seem to be reasonable and sending it in the sun is a welcome reprieve from the usual north facing ice boxes. One can’t beat the approach, reminds me of the East Coast ice I’ve done…roadside cragging at it’s finest!

Rob is a recent transplant from Pennsylvania to Colorado. He’s a climbing guide, guidebook author, and also offers a great ice screw sharpening service. This is his first post for SplitterChoss.com.