10 July, 2000

Today I saw in our local paper the article which described the fall and subsequent evacuation of one member of our climbing party of several days ago in the Tetons. I was slightly disturbed by the semantics of the article, because having actually been there, unlike the NPS personnel and Associated Press who described the mishap, I felt some details were left out which might affect the credibility of our group personally and collectively.

Please allow me to explain:

There were nine of us. One of our party, Shawn Meek (22), never had any intention of climbing, and was staying at our campsite. He was with his Uncle Tom for the trip.
As for the rest of us, this entire adventure had started with just myself (40), Steve Harris (40) & Lorraine Harris (38). Our levels of experience are mixed, my own including 17 years of numerous Grade II & III climbs of all media (rock, snow, ice), Steve with 3 years of moderate routes in the mountains, and Lorraine of somewhat fewer mountain trips than Steve. Steve and I had climbed together the previous October in the Indian Peaks, which are much smaller than the spectacular Tetons, but I felt the three of us could accomplish something enjoyable.

My friend Jim Cunningham (43), who has completed some 24 Grade IV climbs in his 23 years of climbing, joined us as his previously planned trip to the Sierra Nevada fell through. He was the most experienced member of our group. Next in our group came Tom Jones (43), with the same number of years' experience as myself, but less experienced in terms of route difficulties. I knew he could climb alpine ground and that he could competently handle roped climbing.

Next we were to be joined by Roumen Antanason (25) and Miss Jyoti (25) , both of limited climbing experience. Roumen too had climbed with Steve and I in the Indian Peaks, and knew some basics about snow climbing. Jyoti was brand new to this, and to a fault, I didn't give a thought as to whether or not she would be able to pick up climbing on snow. However, she learned the basics hands-on the day before we climbed. Prior to this, she was an experienced mountain hiker.

Jeb Steward (47) rounded out the odd-numbered group, with his 12 years' experience rockclimbing and his one winter mountain route, not to mention his extensive caving background. He and I had climbed numerous long routes together, as well as innumerable single-pitch rock climbs.

We were to have started our approach on the Fourth of July (Jeb's birthday; Steve's birthday was the previous day!), but one of our two boats had capsized at Bearpaw Bay in rough, frigid waters short of our intended landing point, which prompted a rescue by National Park Service rangers, and a delay in the start of our climb. This incident made a rather large impression on the rangers with regard to our group: they would remember us for a long time, said Jeb.

The following morning, we crossed Jackson Lake without incident, and over the course of the day ascended 3,000 feet to the 9700-foot campsite at the very edge of the glacier.

We left in staggered groups at about 4 A.M. the 6th of July, roped together as follows: Jim with Jyoti and Roumen; myself with Lorraine and Steve; and Jeb with Tom. We all went for the left side of the glacier, where there was no bergschrund (much the same as a large crevasse). This route was steeper, but spared us the possibility of a crevasse fall. Jim's group stayed in the lead, followed by Jeb & Tom. My group was the slowest. Jim and I both led our ropes up the steep headwall pitches. I could see that Lorraine's face was full of trepidation as the sun rose. Jim and his group were already lined up along the moat at the top of the headwall when debris from the East Horn began to rain down on them. My group was still in the steep, sheltered by the concave wall above. When the rock- & snow-fall stopped, Jims group uncovered their heads and got to their feet, heading for the island of rock to re-organize. Tom and Jeb continued on past them. By the time we finally arrived at the moat, it was obvious that Jim was taking his rope down.

"Jyoti's boots are worthless for this kind of stuff," he shook his head. Lorraine decided that she was going down with Jim's rope. She said she knew when she was in over her head. They spent the next two hours descending roped, with Jim downclimbing to each stance to belay them down again. Once everyone was safe, Jim started back up, unencumbered by rope or belays. His level of experience permitted this, and, indeed, this is the way most climbers ascend the Skillet. I had felt at the onset that Steve and Jeb should be belayed, atleast initially, until they felt comfortable without a rope.

After a few belayed pitches, Steve and I climbed simultaneously for well over a thousand feet until we caught up with Tom and Jeb. Then we took to belaying again. This afforded us time to chat with one another. Tom said they were playing it safe, belaying every pitch, when I asked him why they didn't try simul-climbing to save time. The only problem with "playing it safe" in this manner was that by this time, it was nearly 12 O'Clock Noon: it was taking too long. We had been on the go for eight hours, and I had been awake since 2 A.M.

We headed up into the left branch of the Skillet, the final stretch, when we finally Jim below us. He was making much greater progress than we were. By the time we had reached the final 80-foot pitch, he was at the bottom of the Left Branch. Tom was over the top first, followed by myself, then Jeb, and finally Steve. They said Jim had turned back. He had found the conditions too soft for his liking.

We were all on the summit by 2:30 P.M. A few pictures were taken, then we started down. Tom and I had discussed leaving our crampons off, and Steve and Jeb were slightly taken aback by our opinions, but they too left theirs off. Tom, Jeb and Steve rappeled from the top of the couloir, and I downclimbed, retrieving the ropes. Jeb said he would prefer to rappel the Left Branch, then resume downclimbing at the slightly less steep handle of the Skillet. I continued down climbing, with only a short rappel. Tom followed Jeb and Steve on the second rappel. I was below their next stance, when Steve and Jeb screamed for me to look out. I glanced up in time to see Tom barreling down toward me in an explosion of snowballs, legs and arms flying, axe in one hand. He just barely missed me as I ducked to one side. We watched him slide, in self-arrest position, but he didn't stop for probably a thousand feet. We saw him sit up, place his axe. There was no way we could repeat that maneuver without undue risk, having seen how difficult it was for Tom to arrest his fall. I continued down climbing as Steve and Jeb rappeled two more times to the end of the Left Branch. Then the three of us were all downclimbing side-by-side.

Tom had continued to descend without waiting for us. He later said he was getting too cold, and so continued on down. This perplexed us at the time. I thought that after such a long slide, Tom would have some insight with regard to the conditions, and think it best to atleast rope up.

Eventually, Tom disappeared from view. He was moving much faster than we were. About midway down the Skillet handle, we too engaged in sitting glissades, but the effort to control them was so taxing that after a thousand feet we abandoned this method for the slower, safer downclimbing.

This was about the time that we received a radio call from Lorraine that Tom had taken a long fall, all the way down the rock island, she said. He was not moving. Jim ran out to him with Roumen and some of the others. In view of this, we put on our crampons. Eventually, we heard that Tom was walking with assistance, but as he started to go into shock, Jim called the rangers in case their help would be necessary.

Jeb, Steve and I had reached the top of the final headwall when Lorraine radioed to tell us that the rangers wanted Tom evacuated because of his right leg pain, before nightfall. The three of us still on the climb observed the path of Tom's final slide, which slammed him directly into a protrusion of rock about halfway down the rock island. He had never put on his crampons. By now, the snow had firmed up, and darkness was coming. Still perched on high, we watched the yellow Jenny Lake SAR chopper touch lightly on the glacier three different times, to drop off EMT's, pick up Tom, and pick up EMT's. Steve, Jeb and I eventually returned to our camp by about 10 P.M.

The following morning, we divvied up Tom's things to carry them out along with all of our own stuff. We reached the boat rendezvous six hours after we left our campsite.

Tom was released from the hospital with "minor injuries," it is true, but was obviously not moving in a fashion which could be described as "easily." When I hear reports of his accident, or when I hear people talk about it, they often describe the whole thing like this:

"Yep. Fell 1,500 feet down the mountain, got up, and just walked away!"

So I just had to tell someone...

Tough Trip!

Well, I guess that's all I have to say it. Hope you don't mind my being so wordy.

Sincerely,

Ben Boykin