The Song Remains The Same

On a winter’s morning in 1975, Burgie, the Land Cruiser, rumbled up the highway at the bottom of Provo Canyon in Utah’s Wasatch Range. Ice dripped from the steep rock walls and a warm southern wind blew softly. Jim Knight and Mark Ward approached the first pitch, known as the Apron. Dressed in blue jeans and wool sweaters, they climbed with confidence—authoring one of Utah’s finest and most sought-after ice routes.

Nearly a half-century later, 44 years to be exact, Jim and his son, Andy, repeated the route, using mostly Jim’s old gear. I ended up joining them after an unscripted call to Andy, inquiring if he was climbing the next day. The reply: a simple “Yup, climbing with my dad, you wanna join?”

Andy wanted to repeat his father’s route in the original style to experience what it felt like to climb in a bygone era. Resurrected from a bedroom closet, the shafts of the tools were rewaxed, the rusty points of crampons sharpened, ovals were gathered, ice screws racked, and musty sweaters and jackets donned. For this somewhat historical reenactment, Jim would belay Andy.

The weather wasn’t an exact replica. Rather, quite the opposite. Snow blew sideways and the cold was bone-chilling. The straight shafts were pumpy and the mittens cumbersome. Using ice tools to twist the outdated screws was time-consuming. Andy smiled the whole time, loving every minute of it. I felt similarly. Watching Jim and Andy, a generation apart yet together on this historic route, was by far one of the most significant climbing experiences I’d ever photographed. On the drive home, I half expected the climb’s namesake song to come on the radio. It didn’t, but in my mind I inserted an eight-track tape of Led Zeppelin into the dash of Burgie.