Climbing Horsetail Falls near Ouray, CO

Horsetail Falls, WI4, 500ft, 4 pitches.

Day three of our ice climbing foray found us woofing down calories for breakfast at our favorite Backstreet Bistro locale. We gulped coffee and debated how to seize the day. We had tossed around the idea of doing a backcountry, multi-pitch (read: really lonnng) climb since we first organized the trip. Two days in the park had bought us quite the nice portion of confidence, with an extra helping of stoke.

"Man, we should just go for it. We'll feel it out. If it's not happening, it's not happening and we'll bail.

Now the only question was where? On the trip in we had scoped out Bear Creak Falls and Horsetail Falls from Highway 550. Cascade Falls, overlooking the small town of Ouray, seemed to be "somewhat" in.from afar, but it was sitting in the sun all day and we were already approaching ten in the morning. Not the best conditions to climb ice. Somehow, the discussion steered back to Horsetail Falls. We pulled up the beta on it and scoured it's offerings... 500+ vertical feet, typically split in to four pitches. The crux is the first pitch, rated at WI4-5, depending on how difficult a line you choose. Alright, alright, we could probably muster that, we convinced ourselves. We were both comfortable on the WI5 terrain and we had both led WI4 in the park the days prior. Jay graciously volunteered me to lead the first pitch -- can't pass that up, I guess. However, the selling point on Horsetail Falls: minimal minimal minimal approach. You can see it from the highway for crying out loud! Sold. We downed the rest of our breakfast, hopped into the car, and headed for the hills.

Prepping for the climb & workin' on game faces. Photo credit: Jay

Jay giving the "horses rear" the hairy eyeball. Lookout!

We arrived at the overlook and made quick work of packing our essentials as we downed the rest of our coffee rations. We set off, rounding the curve of the road, locating the end of the fence which marked the beginning of the climbers trail, 200' to the bottom of the canyon. At the bottom we intersected the creek that flows downstream into the Ouray ice park, carefully choosing our path across the bridge of ice. The rushing water seen through the sun-rotted holes in the snow pack made for an exciting crossing.

Crossing the creek. Must go faster, must go faster.

Peering up at today's objective. Aye. Photo credit: Jay

Yolo, maaaannnn. Yolo.

Horsetail Falls from the ground up. Doesn't look as long from here as it did before.
Optical illusion working in our favor? We'll take it!

We arrived at the base of the falls, bumping in to another party sorting gear. "Oh thank God. Cool," we thought to ourselves. We'll have a chance to settle in, watch their moves and get into a nice frame of mind before it's our turn. We chatted them up for a little while on small talk until they tossed their packs onto their backs and gave us the "Whelp, have fun, fellas! You guys are gonna have fun. It's a great route." Aw crap, it turned out they were just finishing up the climb and heading out.

Jay setting up the first belay beside the falls.

 Well, I guess our ticket was up. Time to scramble! Oye. We prepped, flaked rope and racked the draws and screws on my harness while Jay reminded me "you got this, man!" Ok, I just have to focus on climbing smart, placing smart, and breathing. Think calm thoughts, maaaannnn. I pulled my tools out of the wall of ice holding them, checked our systems and gave Jay the ol' "well, uh, here goes...". I threw my first pick into the neve-covered ice, tested it with a pull. It held and moved upward.

Leading pitch one and placing a mostly "ineffective" screw to appease
the ice butterflies swarming in my stomach. Photo credit: Jay

Movin' on up. Thankful for this low-angle ramp before the spicy vertical ice. Photo credit: Jay

Annnnd out of sight. Photo credit: Jay

Before long, I had made my way around the front of the face. The intel we read about the route said skirting the vertical front face around to the left alleviated some of the sustained exposure, and reduced the difficulty  from WI5 to WI4. I was more than thankful to take this option. Being a popular route, I'll note that it was pretty-well picked out with decent hook placements in some instances. I called down to Jay, "uh hey man... it get's pretty steep right here. I think I have to just go up now." He laughed and I refocused my concentration. I placed a screw nice and high from where I was standing on the last bit of ramp. Clipped the draw, then the rope... and we're golden. Time to move.

A view down and around the falls. Time to dial up the exposure. Photo credit: Jay

The vertical portions of the first pitch were definitely heady. It was somewhat of a mind game to stay focused while the view out to the right kept on creeping in, trying to lure my concentration astray. The weather that day was perfect. Sunny in the morning, but overcast during our climb. It was warm even, probably in the mid-twenties. Every stick of the picks felt solid; the ice was just forgiving enough. We couldn't have asked for better conditions.

The trickiest move for me was traversing back out to the right on to the main front face of the falls, once I felt confident in my moves. It felt amazing, reading each feature in the ice, moving as effortlessly upward as possible. I'll never forget the rush of satisfaction as I crested over the lip of the falls and mantled myself up over my tools to the ramp of low-angle ice. I could see my belay spot and I just aimed for it, moving fearlessly forward. I tucked into a corner near some rocks on the left side and took a few moments to calm my heart rate. I just led my first WI4 out in the backcountry.... It was just Jay and I in the theater of nature, slaying our fears and self doubts. I sank in three screws for my belay, equalized the cordalette and shouted down to Jay, "Alright bro, you're on belay! Climb at will!".Sigh o' relief.

Jay seconding the first pitch. Photo credit: Jay
Also... Faux pas number 1: I keep forgetting to push those knobs on the ice screws back in so they don't catch the rope like they have here! Hahaha, prime example of what not to do, folks! Argh.

Jay mantling over the lip of the lower falls.
Me: "Hey Jay, how you doing?"
Jay: "I can't hear anything you're saying!!"
Hahaha

Jay made quick work scrambling up the first pitch, cleaning and racking the screw placements. Before long he crested up over the edge and I brought him in on the rope, smiles a-blazing. Next was his turn to lead pitch two. My hogging of the decent platform at the belay provided an awkward position for Jay to start from. Sorry brotha! He didn't stay too long though. I swapped the ATC from the anchor to my harness and gave him the "climb on" blessing to do his thing.

He led the next pitch with poise and focus. He was calm and collected, and silent. I soon found it was best to just let him be and patiently await his requests as I fed out rope, watched the tension in the line for each clip and pull in the slack. After some time, things were quiet. The rope hadn't moved in some time and I called out to him, "Jay you ok? You resting?" Before long, he shouted back down, "you're on belay! Climb!" And with that, I set to breaking down the lower belay and the tension from the rope pulled me close to the wall.

Cleaning the second pitch was fairly uneventful. I cleaned the lazy way of unclipping the draw and letting it pile up on my tie-in point, while only racking the screws. But hey, it worked. I made my way up to the third belay, at the start of the third pitch. Again, there wasn't too much room to stand, so I didn't stay long. I already had everything I needed for the next lead. A few minutes shuffling around gear and re-organizing the screws was all I needed before I was off again, yielding the sharp end.

Looking down the route from atop pitch 2. Photo credit: Jay

I moved efficiently over the lower-angled ice. The rating here was definitely low WI3, and I made sure to take advantage of climbing tool over tool using the A-frame technique. I must have traversed too far right at some point, to where I could hear the rushing water of the falls beneath some thin ice. My crampon kicks suddenly became mushy and hollow. I drove the pick in and WHOA, a small geyser erupted! I pulled as far away from the wall as it emptied a spigot of water under pressure out onto the ice. It trickled to a stop after thirty seconds or so and I managed to remain dry during most of it. I continued up and over a few more short vertical sections until I encountered the long shallow ramps of snow. I yelled down to Jay that I was going to need a ton of slack as I walked upwards through the powder. Another vertical section. Another run-out ramp of snow. Then I spotted the trees. There it is! Our fourth belay station..

My failure of a top belay! Haha!

By this point, the rope had become very taught with tension. I pulled as much as I could and yelled down for slack, no response. I was about five feet away from a small limbed tree, about 20 feet from the nice thick pine tree that I wanted to use! I waited for slack and it never came. I had already begun unwrapping my cordalette to affix to the tree and I just went for it. I pulled the rope as hard as I could fighting for every inch closer to one of the trees. I barely made it to the small one, I threw two slings around 2 separate trunks and equalized them with the cordalette. Then came the pull.

All of a sudden I felt Jay heaving at the rope pulling it back. I lost footing and began sliding backwards through the snow. I quickly grabbed for everything on my harness. I extended out the anchor point with another double-length sling, Puuuuull. Crap. I whipped out the emergency bail cord and tied a double-fisherman knot creating a loop to extend the anchor out again. Puuuuull. Dangit! I clipped into the now very-extended anchor and began digging through the deep snow looking for some ice to sink a screw in to. The pulling in the rope finally subsided and I assume Jay was able to lower himself back down to his belay station 200ft below me. Hahaha. I sunk a backup screw in and linked it to the anchor point. I set the ATC onto the anchor and didn't have to even bother with pulling in any slack. I yelled down to Jay. "On belay!". No response.

The only sound I could hear were semi trunks climbing up the highway across the canyon. Damnit. I rigged a prussik knot onto the affixed rope and clipped in to it. I was going to have to climb back down to the edge of one of the lips to try and get communication going with him. I reached for my ice tools, which I then realized were hanging from one of the branches in the anchoring tree -- a split second decision when I was fighting to get an anchor built. Ah, nevermind. I down climbed the ramp, sliding the prussik along the line beside me. Luckily there were only a few tricky sections. "Jay! I have you anchored in! I need to climb back up to belay you but when I get there I'll begin pulling in rope! Do not climb until I start pulling!". I think I heard a response back, but I wasn't sure. The rope began to shuffle around and I was thinking that he might start getting ready to climb.

I scrambled over the bulges, reaching my belay as fast as I could. Out of breath, I began to pull in the rope as tight as I could get it, in the hopes of Jay realizing I had him on belay. I stood around and waited another five minutes before I heard a faint voice and then the rope slackened. Good, he's moving. awesome. Despite the kludgy-ness of my anchor, it worked. It was redundant, it was somewhat equalized. I added another degree of redundancy by slinging the excess break strand (which I was tied into) around an outcropped boulder. We never came close to testing it. In minutes Jay was already up the 200' pitch. I probably only placed three screws the entire length. We exchanged laughter and our sides of the story. It was a lot of "man, I could hear you faintly, then you would stop and I couldn't make out anything." Jay even attempted to call my cell phone to ask if he was on belay at one point. We joked as I broke down the anchor.

Jay emerges in to view. Sigh o' relief.

We made our way up to the last remaining pitch of the climb, a short 50ft (or so) wall of vertical ice. Jay had the lead on this one and I was happy to get a chance to rest a little while longer.

Jay was itching to send this lead, citing his earlier lead that he felt he ended too quickly. He made excellent work of the route, carefully testing each tool placement, then working the feet high enough to stand up on. A few screw placements on this vertical face later and he was up over the top of it. He shouted down to me that we had another run-out section and that if he was out of range, he would pull ten times before pulling in all the slack to signify I was on belay and to climb. Smart guy! I should have done something similar on the previous pitch. Lessons learned, for sure.

Jay on the sharp end, leading pitch four.

The view back down to the scenic overlook and US-550.

Just as he had said before, I felt the pull of the rope just as we were getting to about five feet of slack left in the line. Close call again! I clipped the remaining items to my harness, unclipped the belay device and pulled out my ice tools. "Climbing!" I made sure to savor this last pitch of ice, enjoying each hold and screw clean. Before long, I mantled over the top. I could see Jay about 100ft out. I picked up the rope and made the last slog upwards in the snow, greeting him with a beaming smile. "We made it man!" "Shyeah!" We took a few summit shots overlooking the canyon.

Alas! We made it! Overlooking the highway scenic overlook from the top of the falls.
"Our view is more scenic that yours!"

The rest of the trip down was uneventful. We were both still reveling in the notion that we actually made it out here and up this thing. A lot of times we're guilty of down playing our ability and confidence in the pursuit of new objectives. I was beyond stoked.

We carefully descended the climbers trail back down to where a rappel anchor was set up to the left of the falls. It was great to be able to see the route again from this close, noting each of the memorable spots. We took a few more pics, including one for our buddy Mark who couldn't make it out to "suffer" with us.

Mark, this is just for you! Thanks for the V-thread tool! She's getting a lot of mileage with Jay and I!
Hahaha... Too funny. We missed you up here, brotha!

Yeah, from here pitch 1 looks pretty hefty, haha.

After a fun lil' last rappel, we arrived back at the base of the falls to our unattended packs. Cool, no one peed on 'em. We ditched the harnesses and made the climb out of the canyon back to the road, taking a few more memorable shots to capture the stoke of the day. Man, we seized it, today.

Jay throwing up a Rocky pose for the ladies.

Longest multipitch of my climbing life so far! 500'. Can't wait to top it with the next one.

Along the way back, we had a panic episode where we thought Jay was going to die of a blood clot due to his tightly wrapped knee brace and his super swollen leg piece. The usual shenanigans ensued as we drove through Ouray looking for any medical facility, anxiously calling his fiance / personal nurse trying to get the low down on his super fat lower leg. It was hilarious once we realized he probably wouldn't die. We made sure to celebrate in full, first stopping first at the Ouray brewery, and then over to the Ourayle House (home to the Mr. Grumpy Pants Brewery <-- Jay P fits in perfect!).

Looking over other climbing books and learning how to dig a snow cave using tennis-racquet style snowshoes.

We didn't apply for the "brewer's assistant" position. You had to apparently be hotter than
the lady posed on the picture there. My ugly mug was enough to earn me a beer and that was it.

We opted to stay one last night at the climber bunk houses after hearing about a potential storm moving in with precip. Best night of sleep in a while!