'Craziest thing you can do': Why are so many adventure seekers warming up to ice climbing?
Thwack! Thwack! Thud!
Oh, thank God, my whole body exclaimed. After a few swings, the razor-sharp pick I clutched lodged firmly into a cascading frozen waterfall. Shards of ice exploded from the point of contact onto my face. A taste of blood. At least the hold seemed solid. I raised one foot and kicked the tippy-toe spike of a traction device attached to my boot into the opalescent surface. Then I raised the other.
Like a cat walking on extended claws, I made my way up Chouinard Falls in Lee Vining Canyon, a California ice-climbing mecca just east of Yosemite National Park. Swing, crash, thud. Two steps. Swing, crash, thud. Two steps.
I wasn't fast. I definitely wasn't graceful. But I was ice climbing.
Ice climbing, as the name suggests, entails scaling frozen water. Even mountain goats can't scramble up vertical ice, so specialized equipment is needed. Like rock climbing, the sport entails a rope system — known as belaying — but differs in substantive ways.
Not only does ice-climbing gear resemble medieval torture devices, but the sport, for obvious reasons, must be done in the cold. Ice forms in the shade, adding to the chill factor. Particularly frigid climbs can bring on the "screaming barfies," a cluster of symptoms that include severe hand pain and nausea. (My sun-soaked Angeleno blood curdles at the thought.) As climbers chop into
