“Turning back is not an option you ever considered when you made your initial plan to grab a peak.”
— from 4000s by 40
The photos on this page coincide with Chapter 4 from 4000s by 40—a climb I’ll never forget. This is a quick retelling of events. If you’d like to read more about the adventure, our insane mountain guide, and the lessons we learned from the lonely backpack, you can find the book here.
Plans Will Change
The decision to turn back from climbing Mount Osceola was made easier by an experience I had years earlier on Grand Teton, when a climber lost his life while attempting the dangerous final section of the ascent. It was a sobering moment that I will not soon forget.
A relentless rain pelted us for over eight hours, and the terrain was slick and perilous. Climbing along the ridge in the dark, we worried about our own safety once or twice. It was an ominous day. But when we came upon a lonely backpack, wedged under a boulder just before the last section of the climb, we felt something was really off.
It was at this juncture that we needed to make our own decision about whether to continue. The rain wasn’t letting up and we needed to rope in for the final push. Soaked through and beaten down, it was time to weigh the risks. I can’t say for sure we would have turned around if we hadn’t run into the backpack, but its presence certainly tipped the scales.
The Journey There
Over the course of a few days, we did some incredible climbing. Our guide, who kept things light by continuously telling us we could die at any moment, took us on some serious training climbs. As the youngest, fittest group, he hoped we could take on one of the more challenging routes up Grand Teton, and led us over some truly harrowing shit while the other teams ambled about on easy traverses.
There was one particularly stressful situation when at one point, while our guide yelled instructions at me from another cliff, our climbing rope became snagged on an overhang. To untangle it, I had to climb back down over a precipice that led to a drop of a few hundred feet or more. If the rope snapped, there would be nothing to break my fall for a long, long, while. Lowering my feet over the cliff’s edge—with nothing to step onto—is a feeling I’ll never forget.
“It was the only time I’ve ever been one hundred percent, completely and utterly terrified while climbing.”
Climbing in the Dark
For the final ascent, we started out in the wee hours of the morning, before first light. When the predawn light finally came, it shocked us to see our steps were dangerously close to the cliff’s edge. Not wanting to risk it, we didn’t take any pictures until we felt that we were in a safe area with sure footing!
Over the course of the day, the rain never let up. It peppered us, constantly shifting between sleet, a snowy mix, and regular rain. By the time we reached the abandoned backpack, we were a soggy bunch—which probably made us more receptive to the risks involved with proceeding.
“The presence of the lonely backpack didn’t make any sense at all and kind of gave me the willies.”
Time to Evaluate
Pausing for a solid ten minutes to assess the situation, we noted the following:
- One—the weather wasn’t getting better. In fact, Captain Optimism (yours truly) asked the group to wait ten minutes to see if the weather would turn, because he had a feeling. Our eyes fixed on a peak on the horizon, and we watched as the sky grew evermore dark.
- Two—it was clear that we were the last remaining climbing party on Grand Teton—the weather had turned everyone else back. Understandably so. If it’s not good for anyone else to be up here, maybe we should consider our own mortality.
- Three—the backpack. It was just too foreboding. Our guide, who had warned us of imminent death for the entire adventure, suddenly did a full 180 and seemed to think the backpack wasn’t something to worry about. Maybe he was just trying to keep us calm, but given that his thinking had run counter to normal reasoning every step of the way so far, it seemed the best decision was to ignore his brand of optimism.
So, we opted to skip Grand Teton and summit “The Enclosure” instead, a subpeak of Grand Teton believed to be an ancient Native American site, marked by a circle of rocks at the summit.
Descending Into Reality
Not reaching the true summit was disappointing, but hitting the Enclosure lifted our spirits. Our guide, showing no concern for the backpack we’d found, shared funny stories along the way. He seemed more jubilant than ever—an odd contrast to his earlier warnings about the risks of climbing. It was as if some kind of training had kicked in, telling him to stay upbeat for the sake of the team. I suppose from where we were, he also felt there wasn’t much we could do about the backpack until we knew more.
After returning to camp at the Upper Saddle, we learned that a hiker was indeed, missing. Our guide left to join the search party, and we descended the rest of the way on our own, racing to get out of the rain. When we finally reached base, they confirmed that our climbing party recorded the highest ascent in the state of Wyoming that day—everyone else really had turned back. Those that survived that is. We didn’t know it yet, but the hiker who lost his life fell from a spot only 50-100 feet above from where we stopped. He had made it further than anyone else, before falling into Valhalla Canyon.
The Final Steps
In the last two hours of the descent, the earth transitioned from winter back to summer, and we were relieved that the drenching would soon end.
We were also still blissfully unaware of the missing hiker’s terrible fate. It wouldn’t be until two days later, when reading the newspaper at the airport before our departing flight, that we’d learn what happened. I’ll never forget reading the headline on the cover of the Jackson Hole Daily: Rangers Recover Body From Canyon.
A stark reminder of the risks.
<Using an ice axe to steer on a slide-descent of Grand Teton
Happy to be almost back to base. Getting back safely is the most important thing.
More from 4000s by 40 & Why You Should Use a Guide
📖 Want to learn more? You’ll find the full story in 4000s by 40.
📸 Looking for more photos? Check out the 4000s by 40 Visual Companion for a full archive of trail views and summit shots from the book.
⚠ If you’re planning to climb Grand Teton, you should go with a guide. Unless you are a seasoned expert, you should really go with a guide. I’d suggest using one even if you are seasoned. This mountain is no joke, and conditions can turn quickly. A guide not only improves your chances of reaching the summit safely but also ensures you make smart decisions along the way. Stay safe out there!
Grand Teton Enclosure Ascent Details
- Grand Teton Enclosure Height: 13,280 Feet
- Route (Out and Back): Lupine Meadows to Lower Saddle to Upper Saddle
- Elevation Gain: 7,038 Feet
- Total Distance: 14+ Miles over two days (camped at the Lower Saddle the night before final ascent)
- Trailhead Location: We went with Exum Guides, and the meet-up location may vary, but typically start from the Lupine Meadows Trailhead
Sunset in the Tetons