Acadian winters have magic. I have sat alone on Sand Beach near sunset, feeling like the sole owner of Earth. People were still in the park, but they existed as a whisper, nothing like summer’s roaring current of humanity.
Snow highlighted the peaks, ice lined the bays and the seeps and springs that trickled all summer were frozen solid. Ice flowed over rock in some places, while in others frigid water rolled halfheartedly down a mountainside before turning to temporary stone, freezing the roiling chaos of a waterfall in place.
This is where the ice climbers come to play. You could be one of them, swinging axes and kicking in crampons to scale a fairyland of ice crystals frozen mid-flight. Two outfits guide ice climbing adventures in the park, Equinox Guiding Service and Acadia Mountain Guides. Neither requires you to have climbing experience, on ice or otherwise.
My partner, Jake Holmes, works for AMG. I tagged along in early February as he walked four college friends through each step of the intimidating sport.
We started at noon, distributing and sizing gear, before heading to the Sieur de Monts Trailhead. Located at the Acadia Nature Center, Sieur De Mont spring has long been considered “the heart of Acadia.” With the views we saw on the hike, I can see why.
Since much of the trail is ice-covered, we wore crampons on our rigid mountaineering boots, and Jake taught us how to use them. Our group slowly assimilated to the required “cowpoke” stride, keeping our feet wide as we walked to save our pants from rips and the soft flesh beneath them from injury.
It took time for our minds to trust the crampons to do their work, but the hike was stunning.
Curtains of ice cascaded over vertical rock. Frozen puddles glistened. We awkwardly waltzed up a frozen mountain. As the trail climbed, it narrowed until it was a three-foot terrace hugging the mountainside. Trees and rock-lined edges helped you feel secure, as did the crampons.
We walked about a half mile to the base of the first ice flow. Two conveniently flat platforms, each around the size of an SUV, allowed us to stash our gear and learn the literal ropes. From them were stunning views across the Great Meadow Wetland to Frenchman Bay and the Porcupine Islands.
After orienting us and giving us tips to stay warm in the cold — don’t sit on the ground without one of the pads he provided to insulate you, plus move or eat to stay toasty — Jake headed up to build anchors at the top of the climb. From these, he hung two top ropes, a system similar to your local climbing gym.
While he worked, I chatted with the group, all aerospace engineers who had gone to college together in Atlanta. Saumya Sharma, the ring leader, had made the reservations and talked the rest into joining her. Sharma loves adventure and bouldering, but no one in the group had experience belaying another climber.
When you climb, you’re attached to a rope that will catch you if you fall. For it to work, you need someone on the other end of the rope to hold it, and a fixed point between you that’s high enough to keep you off the ground.
The person is your belayer. The fixed point is that anchor we talked about at the top of the climb. Since most people aren’t strong enough to hold each other’s weight on their own, the belayer uses a friction device, usually a Grigri or an ATC, which stands for air traffic controller.
Jake took time to teach everyone how their devices worked. He also served as a backup belayer on both of the ropes strung up the wall. Then there was nothing left to do but climb.
Jake told them what it would take. “Swing the ax a little from your elbow and a lot from your wrist. Have solid points before moving. Keep your body in an A-frame, arms together and up high and feet spread apart, heels dropped. A triangle is stable,” he said. “And don’t drop your ax.”
The four friends stood in a line, hesitating for a moment before a voice arose incredulous, “Guys. We’re ice climbing!” And it did seem a little wild, that this group met in steamy Atlanta and had decided to reconvene on this frozen mountainside in midcoast Maine.
They all laughed and thought about what this moment meant to them, or didn’t. Maybe they were nervous, excited or scared. Maybe all three. In any case, they started climbing.
Since they’re new and the sport isn’t easy, the ice face wasn’t vertical. It was reminiscent of the Beehive Trail, if you sprayed it with a fire hose on a very cold day.
They started off tentatively before gaining momentum and confidence, taking breaks to soak in the scenery. Meanwhile, I tried to find good angles to take photos. I didn’t climb that day. And, while we meant to come back and climb the next, we got sucked into the wind-whipped beauty of Sand Beach and decided to scout the ice lines forming at Otter Cliffs instead.
I have ice climbed before though, twice, at ice parks in Bangor and Ouray, Colorado. It is both harder and easier than I expected. The axes are easier to grip than many rock climbing holds. But the techniques — whipping your wrist just right to dig the ax into the ice, having confidence that the spiky front teeth of your crampons will hold you aloft — take time to master.
If it calls to you, try it. There’s nothing quite like standing mid-waterfall, mid-winter. Everything is suspended — the ice, the waterfall, you between ax swings. All waiting to see what will happen next.
Or, just go to Acadia. Have hot cocoa on Sand Beach (which is still very sandy after the storms if you were wondering), and laugh at how wild our world is. Laugh that there are people who find it fun to swing around on frozen falls.
Who to call
Acadia Mountain Guides – 207-866-7562
Equinox Guiding Service – 207-619-3957