The Eagle Scout (a.k.a. Mack-Tyson) pillar is the premier single pitch ice climb of the Teton Range, with “more than 100 feet of vertical or overhanging climbing” and a grade ranging from WI5- to WI6R. Having not climbed the Eagle Scout in two years, I thought I would add some notes from the perspective of a better ice climber.
During the current winter of 2024/25 I visited the Eagle Scout cirque three times, twice in early February and once in late March. With valley temps expected to soar into the 60’s this week, the season for sub-alpine ice climbing is probably over, and with it, my visit to the Teton’s biggest and baddest waterfall ice pitch. I first led the Eagle in 2023. At that time, it was the hardest lead of my young ice career and an emotional accomplishment. I ended up leading the route two more times that season, growing ever comfortable with the atypical three-dimensional climbing style characteristic of the Eagle Scout, and the feeling of being over 100 feet off the ground on sustained vertical ice. My motivations for writing a follow-up to that article are to share the Eagle Scout from the perspective of a two year evolved climber, and showcase the route’s character in a different season. Comparing pictures of the Eagle Scout over the decades, the pillar can form very differently by the year. On the first ascent in 2006, the pillar wasn’t close to touching, requiring a “bold lead through the rock, protected by shaky pins and nuts”. In 2022 the pillar didn’t form. The ephemeral nature of this monster only adds to the appeal. No two ascents will ever be the same. Therefor, no two articles will be the same.
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My first two 2025 Eagle Scout visits were only three days apart, following the coldest weather snap of the winter. In the days preceding my climb, temps dipped as low as -30 degrees Fahrenheit for several days. Before the cold snap, it had been quite warm and sunny. This severe melt-freeze swing nearly refilled the route, covering most signs of prior traffic. Though the Eagle Scout will never be as “hooked out” and “stepped out” as classics in Hyalite Canyon or Ouray, it does see a fair bit of early winter traffic and thus, like any steep pillar, becomes easier with every ascent. On February 6th, the ice was nearly pristine, and therefor, I found the work quite difficult. Compared to 2023, the physical formation of the ice was more technically challenging. 30 feet of easy but funky WI3+ climbing, with a bizarre step around a vertical arete, led to a no hands rest on a snow mushroom that forms in some capacity every year. From the mushroom, 40 feet of vertical WI5 climbing in a stem groove led to an ice roof, forcing a technical overhanging traverse right onto the steeper side of the pillar, and finished with another feet 40 of dead vertical climbing, sans groove. In 2023, the groove continued to the top entirely on the left side of the pillar, earning the consensus grade of WI5-. In 2025, between the overhanging traverse and steeper finish, the Eagle Scout landed closer to WI5+. Having not climbed steep ice in over one month, I struggled through a brutal and terrifying onsight, hanging twice on screws to dispel the second worst flash pump of my season. By the time I hangdogged my way to the anchor, I was dejected. After my partner followed, I pulled the rope and led the route a second time. Even with a mere two ascents, the Eagle had become easier, and I succeeded in redpointing, though was still despairingly pumped.
On February 9th, Super Bowl Sunday, I returned to the Eagle Scout with a different partner eager to top-rope the route for his first time. On this day, ambient temperatures were in the single digits, and my biggest struggle was numb extremities. I redpointed the route a second time, but not without suffering moderate frostbite. I returned to the belay with numb hands below both wrists. After regaining some warmth I naively tied in for Wuhan Wet Market (M5, WI3), a low angle but technical mixed line connecting icy corners and smears to the right of the pillar. Having done quite a bit of drytooling this season, I thought the 50 foot lead would be routine. However, many of the protection bolts were iced over, and a fresh snow plastering made the rock climbing equally chilling and cryptic. I reached the anchor more gripped than expected, but more importantly, with very cold hands.
I went on to miss the ensuing three weeks of ice climbing due to frostbite on both pinky fingers. As of March 25th, I still have not regained full feeling in the tip of one finger, but healing progressing steadily. On March 23rd I returned to the Eagle Scout with Bobbi to give her a crack at the beast, and redeem myself with an ascent in good style. My goal was to climb the route without leashes for the first time, trust natural hooks more, and finish without nearing the red line. A long and arduous approach through heavy wind drifted Pacific snow brought us to the base on a warm Sunday morning. In rather transcendent fashion, my lead went smoother than imaginable. I placed protection only when necessary, trusted hooks with precision, and reached the top of the 120 foot pillar with a remarkable amount of margin. I later told Bobbi I could have immediately started up a second pitch of equal difficulty. Of my now seven lifetime Eagle Scout leads, this one felt exponentially more casual. I still placed 13 screws and took 75 minutes to clip the anchor, but my demeanor compared to the February ascents was exponentially relaxed. Perhaps I simply had a good day, or maybe a full month of resting and isometric weighted dead-hangs was exactly what my tiring body and muscles needed. As I move into my thirties, it seems rest is becoming an increasingly important commodity. We also enjoyed near perfect climbing conditions, with sticky spring ice that resisted fracture, and ambient temps encouraging circulation. Bobbi top-rope-onsighted the route handily, an amazing and satisfying testament to the incredible amount of work she’s put in during her first year ice climbing. Between the Eagle and Bingo World, the Alpine Peanut has been on an absolute tear, and I’ve loved belaying her every swing and kick of the way. It’s hard to imagine ice climbing season coming to a close – historically the end is near – but something tells me we aren’t done yet.
It’s hard to articulate how magical it feels to be entirely comfortable on a 100 foot vertical pillar of ice, in the middle of a long lead while hanging off a solid tool, smiling and enjoying infinite mountain views in every direction. It’s a rare feeling I get to enjoy more and more with progression. But the reality is: that bliss is fleeting. More often than not, matters trend towards the physical, extreme and sinister. But as the saying goes, “you can’t appreciate the sun without the rain”. If my waterfall ice climbing season were to end on March 25th, I could happily hang my hat on this last ascent of the Eagle Scout.
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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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