Scene of the crime. Our route is in red; the yellow dot marks the bivy site at a bit over 12,000ft.
We had been on the move since 3:00 a.m. and were on the route before the sun came up, but after about 4,000 feet of climbing and nearly a mile of traversing, we still had 500 vertical feet to go. Complicated terrain slowed our progress greatly after the sun set. All we knew was that the black stuff was rock and the area with stars was not rock. By midnight I was starting to move so sloppily that simul-climbing was out of the question, and my partner was beginning to nod off at belays. At midnight, at just over 12,000 feet and without bivy gear, we made the decision to stop for the night. For the first time in my 11 years of climbing I committed myself to an open bivy. I couldn’t help but laugh wildly at the absurdity of our situation while we tried to figure out how the two of us were going to sleep on a ledge that resembled a broken park bench with a ridge running down the middle. I cannot remember a colder night, but a few tricks and just enough of the right gear helped take the edge off and let us finish the climb the next morning.
Headlamp
The first rule of an open bivy: do not get stuck at an open bivy. If you’re on anything that’s long enough to give you even the slightest chance of being caught in the dark, then a headlamp gives you the ability to climb through the night. If the terrain is too complicated to climb in the dark or you’re just too tired, then at least you’ll have the light to search for a suitable bivy site and set it up properly. Without a headlamp, you’re doomed to a seriously uncomfortable night wherever you happen to be when the sun sets. Modern headlamps weigh nothing and fit easily in your pocket. You have no excuse to be caught without.
Wind Shell
On our climb, my partner and I each carried a 3.2oz CAMP Magic Anorak because it’s about the lightest windproof thing out there, and wind protection makes all the difference in the world. This tennis-ball-sized bundle hung from my harness while I climbed and came into play whenever I needed a bit of warmth at a belay. I didn’t have the matching pants, so around my legs I wrapped the garbage bag that we used to stash gear the day before the climb. The alpine hobo costume worked OK, but wind pants would have been worth the 3 ounces for sure.
Rope
Don’t just coil up your rope and use it as a pillow. Flake it out across the ledge to insulate yourself from the ground like a sleeping pad. Losing warmth into the cold rock is the quickest way to drop your body temperature. If you have a pack, slings, climbing shoes, or anything else available, put that stuff under you as well. The old don’t-step-on-your-rope rule goes right out the window when you’re settling in for a night sans bivy gear.
Socks
Feet freeze easily, and they’re really hard to tuck into your other clothing if you need to warm them. Even if you’re not carrying approach shoes for a walk-off, bring a pair of wool socks. The warmer the better, the taller the better. Just stick them in your pocket or in your pack. You may carry them for years without ever using them, but you’ll sure be happy that they’re around if you ever need them.
Beanie
Everyone knows that heat escapes from your head faster than anywhere else on your body. Even a lightweight stocking hat adds serious warmth to an otherwise obscenely cold night. A balaclava is even better if you have one. My partner and I both slept in our helmets, as well. Not for worry of rockfall, but because they added a bit of extra warmth and acted as slightly uncomfortable pillows. Not to mention the fact that they insulated our heads from the rock.
Watch
It helps to know that you only have two hours until the sun rises (unless you have six hours until the sun rises), so a watch can help morale. Don’t worry about setting the alarm; you’ll wake up as soon as the sun rises (if you’re even asleep in the first place). It also helps to be able to play the Watch Game. See Mark Twight’s Extreme Alpinism for instructions on how to play.
The Grass is Brown
Look over at your partner, at how uncomfortable and cold he looks. Notice that sharp rock that’s been jabbing him in the ribs all night, and notice how much better off you are than him. Think to yourself, “Man, this sucks, but at least I’m not as uncomfortable or cold as he is.” You might as well, because he’s doing the exact same thing. Just make sure you don’t focus on the fact that he got the ultralight belay jacket and all you got in consolation was his stinky baselayer. Stay positive.
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Tags: alpine climbing, bivy, survival