The Following

Inspired by Alex Lowe's famous solo of the Ames Ice Hose, the author retraces his footsteps and learns a lesson in fear.

- Jeremy Joseph

The orchards and meadows around Paonia in western Colorado were greening after a snowy winter.

Are you really going ice climbing? It’s practically spring, I thought. You are only an hour from home, and should probably turn around.

I pulled over, killed the ignition and sat for a moment. Rationalizing that I could always change my mind over the next three hours of driving—an easy fail-safe—I turned the keys and continued south on Highway 133 toward Delta.

I hoped to connect with my friend Danny and climb Ingram Falls, a spectacular two-pitch pillar of ice above Telluride, but he didn’t answer his phone or email to confirm. I drove to his house anyway and knocked on his door. No answer.

It was time for Plan B: Rather than waste a long drive, I would solo the Ames Ice Hose.

Ames was a step up in commitment. Some 500 feet high, this ribbon of ice has serious air, sustained sections of steep climbing and is one of Colorado’s most classic and crowded ice routes when in good condition. After he had been climbing for just three years, one of my heroes, Alex Lowe, had soloed Ames. Photos of his ropeless ascent in an old guidebook had inspired me. A month earlier, I had climbed Ames with a couple of friends, Jesse and Brittany, so I knew a solo was possible for me physically, but mentally I wasn’t so sure. I decided that I'd put off the decision until I was at the base of the route—the same mental tactic I used on the drive—and made the half-hour drive to the trailhead. Hoping for solitude, rather than take the standard and possibly busy approach, I opted for an alternate trail, one that was longer than the standard hike, but would leave me to myself. This season had been a popular one for