OURAY
Ice Climbing
This past winter, I had the chance to go ice climbing in Ouray, Colorado, and it was for sure one of the most epic experiences I’ve ever been on. A group of friends and I packed up and made the flight/drive to the mountains to learn the sport, and spent our days scaling frozen waterfalls in deep canyons. We stayed in a small, cozy cabin about ten minutes from the walls, and every morning, we were up by 6 a.m., layering/gearing up and heading out into the freezing conditions.
For those who don’t know, Ouray Ice Park is pretty unique. It’s a non-profit climbing area that sits right outside town. The park doesn’t form naturally like a typical ice-climbing destination, but instead, water is piped down the canyon walls and left to freeze overnight, creating hundreds of ice routes throughout winter. The overall fact that a bunch of dedicated volunteers and ice farmers maintain this place for us to enjoy, really made it even cooler to experience.
Once we got to the park each morning, the first step was getting into the canyon. While some of the walls you could hike down to the base, other climbing spots required you to rappel into, which means you start by setting up your rope and lowering yourself down a hundred plus feet before you even begin to climb. That in itself can be an obstacle to some. It is one thing to climb up a wall, but dropping into a canyon, seeing the top progressively get farther away, and knowing you’ll have to fight your way back out can be a whole different feeling.
Then came the actual climbing. If you’ve ever rock climbed before, ice climbing feels completely different. Instead of using your hands and feet to grip onto rock holds, you’re swinging ice axes and kicking the front points of your crampons (climbing shoes with spikes) into the ice, hoping for a solid placement each time. It’s a weird mix of power and precision, as you just have to trust your tools won’t rip out.
I actually picked up the technique fairly quickly, which was a surprise. There’s a rhythm to it—swing, kick, shift your weight, repeat. I started to get the feel for how deep the axes needed to sink, and how much force to use without wearing myself out. But what I didn’t anticipate was how brutal the altitude would be. Ouray sits at about 8,000 feet, and coming from sea level in Hawaii, I wasn’t used to how much harder my body had to work. Even though my technique was solid, my endurance was shot. I’d get halfway up a route and suddenly feel like I was gasping for air, however it was 23 degrees, so it would feel like icicles to my lungs.
After hours of climbing each day, we’d head back to the cabin completely wiped out. The cabin itself was exactly what you’d want after a long day in the cold, warm, rustic, and tucked away with a perfect view of the mountains we were just climbing in. Every night, we’d chop firewood, get a fire going, and cook meals to refuel. Some nights we stayed in and relaxed, while other nights we wandered into town to revitalize in the local hot springs or to grab a drink.
There’s something about climbing, especially ice climbing, that brings people together fast. You’re all out there in freezing temps, dealing with the same challenges, cheering each other on, and sharing tips or ropes. I would say that by the end of the trip, meeting this new ice climbing community was just as rewarding as the gnarly routes itself.
Looking back, my time in Ouray was easily one of the most amazing things I’ve ever done. Ice climbing pushed me in ways I didn’t expect, both physically and mentally, but it was also just insanely fun. Between the climbs, the people, and the whole experience of staying in the mountains, it’s something I know I’ll never forget. And more than anything, I know I’ll be back!
