Black Hole
Since when has an iceaxe been a tool for canyoneers?

"Hey Dan, if all of your friends jumped off a cliff, would you do it too?"

I stopped in my tracks, turned around, and saw the mischevious grin coming from Ram. I knew it was one of those questions you don't have to answer, because Ram had already played out the dialog in his head.

"'Cause that's what you're doing right now!!!"

Then came that unmistakable laugh. He thinks this is really funny, but as evident by how I've handled the cold all week, this trip through the Hole wasn't going to be very comfortable for me. But hey, this is the main reason I came down, and I wasn't going to sit idly by while everyone else brought back the good stories another New Year's bash.

We had a group of 12 for the day's festivities. 7 Black Hole veterans, 5 rookies. Of the rookies, none of us had even seen the Black Hole, let alone done the New Year's descent. It was a beautiful introduction. We arrived at the trailhead to cold but manageable temperatures, and nothing but brilliant blue skies. Of course, we all took turns reading the warning sign, and then laughing about how stupid the sign was. Or how stupid we were. Or maybe both.

Without having a prior visit to the canyon for comparison, it's hard to know just how unique the conditions were. But these seemed pretty wild. In any part of the canyon that was somewhat wide and exposed to the sky, the ice was frozen solid, easily supporting the weight of a canyoneer. In places where the canyon narrowed, there was no ice to speak of and passage was easy. Therefore, the actual swimming portion of the Hole was completely ice free and very enjoyable. But where conditions were really strange were the parts of the canyon that were only partially exposed to the sky. Here, the ice was between 1 and 2 inches thick. Almost thick enough, but not quite.

It is in these conditions where you find out the true nature of your canyoneering comrades. You have the type who methodically slide one foot out onto the ice, then the other, until they have slowly crossed to the other side, without damaging the fragile surface. Then you have the type who hit the ice at a full sprint, hoping to skate across it quickly to the other side, typically not caring about if the ice is fracturing, because the fractures are almost always behind you, after you've skimmed past (Brejcha and Bucky, you know who I'm talking about). Of course, the next person across is screwed, but that is of no worry to them. Then you have the type who doesn't trust the slow methodical strategy, instead favoring an even slower and even more methodical military crawl. I assume the reasoning behind this is that weight is distributed to a larger surface area, so the ice won't break. And lastly, you have the type who simply sees the ice, and decides to break as much of it as possible, sometimes even with an iceaxe.

The strategy when surrounded by these types of people becomes vitally important. If you get too far in the back of the group, every passage is completely broken by the time you get there, and you have to wade through the brutal pools of shattered ice, where you risk bruising your shins and legs from the ebb and flow of ice pounding into your body. If you get out in front too far, you risk going out on to fragile ice, breaking through, and then having to finish breaking up the rest of the pool to get out. Staying in the middle seems the safe bet, until you realize that some pools don't break for the first person, or for the second person. But every additional person that crosses begins to break up more and more of the ice. Which means you get stuck either falling in, or breaking ice.

What a dilemma it was. I can categorize myself as someone who favored the military crawl, somewhere in the middle of the pack. Unless I was following AJ. Then I would wait until he got out until the middle of the pool, and then I would sprint past him hoping I would drop him through while I skipped past. I know, it's a mean trick, but kinda funny. It never worked.

The wild conditions made for hilarious moments in the canyon, but I was most impressed by the sheer beauty of the beast. This may be one of the most beautiful canyons on the plateau, especially when considering the low price of admission. I feared this canyon would be an excercise in enjoying self-inflicted suffering, but floating through the sculpted narrows while lying on my pack, admiring the warm reflected light on the soaring canyon walls and hearing the distant echoes of my many friends laughing made for an experience I won't soon forget, and one I hope to repeat often.

Special thanks to all those people who I shared canyons with this year, and for the unexpected immersion I've had in this new world of canyons. To think, I had barely done a technical canyon prior to 2007, and when the dust settled, I experienced more than 50 canyon days with even more partners from all over the country. What an awesome year it has been. An even more sincere hat tip to those who made FreezeFest not only tolerable, but truly a week to remember. I'll see all you halfwits again next year!