A day of high-desert ice climbing in the stunning Joe’s Valley, including an ascent of the revered Donorcicle (WI5) – a 100 foot freestanding pillar.
(this article is a continuation of Sandstone Ice 2025: Huntington Canyon)
After our successful Saturday of knocking out two of Utah’s finest desert gems, we slept beneath Coat’s Corner dreaming of Joshua Tree monzogranite and the open road. While Bobbi piloted our ship towards Interstate 15 the following morning, I scrolled Mountain Project and was surprised to see the famous Donorocicle – a 100 foot freestanding WI5 pillar and renowned Utah classic – was less than an hour away. Better yet, the monolith was known to be touching, been top-roped, and was rumored to be nearing a lead-worthy state. Bobbi took my bait quickly, and before long our visions of splitter California hand cracks were derailed for another 24 hours.
Joe’s Valley is a world-class bouldering destination. Throughout spring, summer and fall, thousands of climbers flock to the deep ravines and steep hillsides of Joe’s searching for towering sandstone blocks of improbable slopers and rounded crimps. At the heart of Joe’s is a beautiful reservoir, and the ecosystem mirrors Huntington – a melting pot where the southern desert and northern high-mountains converge. By winter, the one way access road lies fairly dormant, save for hunters, a few desperate pebble wrestlers, and a dedicated contingent of Salt Lake City ice climbers. The aforementioned Donorcicle is the premier frozen attraction, but a few other routes, the Spear Of Fear (WI5), Slip Slidin’ Away (WI4-5), CCC Falls (WI4) and Deadbolt (WI4), contribute allure. However, this year Joe’s was even drier than Huntington. Deadbolt was the only other route in climbable condition besides the Donoricle. Fortunately, a short and straightforward WI4 fit our warm-up criteria perfectly.
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The approach to Deadbolt ended up more interesting than the climb itself, a rarity for ice climbing. Within 100 feet from the car we changed to crampons and proceeded up a continuous frozen riverbed filled with cabin sized boulders, ice and mixed steps, and a tunnel sporting a spectacular terrace of ice ramps. After 30 minutes of wandering around a frozen Alice Of Wonderland playground, we reached the main attraction – a sopping wet free-standing curtain of featured vertical mush. Much to appearance, the pitch provided insecure climbing with dubious protection, an exercise in mental fortitude and three-points on climbing. With a snug top-rope Bobbi experienced exponentially more fun than I, but still emerged rather damp. In hopes of catching the Donorcicle before the heat of mid-day, we scurried off without a second a lap.
A fifteen minute drive spans Deadbolt and the Donorcicle, with the latter guarded by a narrow, unmaintained and steep dirt road for the final mile. While we could’ve easily hiked from the highway, there was one issue: temps were rising quickly, the sun was unfiltered, and the Donorcicle faces south. We pushed the limits of our two-wheel drive van, getting stuck the first time, reversing to flatter territory, and ultimately succeeding with extra momentum. A pair of Salt Lake City top-ropers were just finishing as we reached the ice. I didn’t ask about conditions. Sometimes I prefer to wander towards my demise with ignorance, and because neither person led the route, their opinions on lead conditions would be purely speculative. From afar the first 100 feet of pillar climbing looked straightforward, but the top-out was grievously thin. I could see splotches of water worn sandstone through the ice. Every fiber in my body whispered “back down”, yet I resolved to “just check it out”. I knew of one climber who led to the attachment point a week earlier, but backed down in the face of thinness. After walking around and setting up a top-rope, he reported: “it was thicker than I thought”, and wished he’d carried through on lead. In 2025, the internet poses a significant threat to a pure on-sight, but sure helps quell the nerves of mystery.
While the Donorcicle technically faces south, a receded alcove with towering walls and a heavy forest protects the upper pillar from sunlight until mid afternoon. At 1:30PM, we banked on 30 minutes until the top would see sun. I racked up and raced off at manic pace, soloing the first 30 feet of apron ice and grappling up 15 feet of pillar before placing a screw. Much like Inspired By Gravity, the lower climbing was incredibly featured. While I seldom worked for feet or tools, careful evaluation of gentle ice features, insecure balance climbing, and intermittent protection opportunities presented challenge. Runouts of 10-15 feet were common, as were side-pulls, high-steps and pistol squats. A faint curtain adjacent to the pillar, pouring over an intermediate roof 20 feet from the top, provided a timely no-hands rest. I could see clear through the finishing varnish, but between the true top and the bisecting shelf I was now resting on, the ice appeared to have plenty of attachment to justify continuance. The final moves were intense and delicate, on a well adhered sheet oscillating from verglas to six inches. I sunk my final 10cm screw and took a few deep breaths. The next reliable screw was out of sight below. A fall here, should the stubby fail, would be catastrophic. I swung too hard a few times and reamed pure sandstone. I heard the whispers of my ice mentor, Chris Hackbarth, saying “trust it” and “keep your swagger” as I committed to a few picks with only two teeth latching the warming ice. A half dozen tip-toe maneuvers later and I was perched atop the proudest pure ice lead of my career. From what I could tell by former screw holes, this could’ve been the first lead of 2025.
In the baking sun Bobbi managed a proud four hang ascent of the Donorcicle. Can you imagine climbing 100 feet of untraveled WI5 with less than twenty days of ice experience? I can’t. I was amazed and inspired by her progression. As we departed Joe’s Valley for two weeks of sunny rock climbing in Joshua Tree, I was left in awe of the desert ice scene. Each of the four routes we climbed had a special magic. Coat’s Corner took the crown for aesthetics. Inspired By Gravity had the most unique climbing. Deadbolt had a geologically fascinating approach to compliment a fine ice line. And the Donorcicle… well, how often have you seen a 100 foot free standing WI5 pouring from a double tired sandstone alcove? The pillar seriously looked like it belonged in the Canadian Rockies, minus the sagebrush, juniper, and orange stone. While Bobbi and I managed to tick a serious collection of the classics, a few notables remain, with a magnitude worthy of their own trip should the stars align. Can anyone say, Spear Of Fear?
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DISCLAIMER
Ski mountaineering, rock climbing, ice climbing and all other forms of mountain recreation are inherently dangerous. Should you decide to attempt anything you read about in this article, you are doing so at your own risk! This article is written to the best possible level of accuracy and detail, but I am only human – information could be presented wrong. Furthermore, conditions in the mountains are subject to change at any time. Ten Thousand Too Far and Brandon Wanthal are not liable for any actions or repercussions acted upon or suffered from the result of this article’s reading.
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