Al Carilli

Buttermilk Falls

A cold, very damp day at Buttermilk Falls, but we would not want it any other way. Eight of us were there to enjoy some of the best ice in the Catskills. By the time we reached the top of the third pitch, our enthusiasm was not dampened, but everyone’s clothing certainly was. My hands were at the point where I was literally frozen with pain. Anyone who has climbed ice with me knows what I mean.

Ken turned to me, unzipped his gators and produced a dry, warm pair of gloves. He said take these, I really don’t need them. His own gloves were as wet and damp as mine, but he insisted that his hands were fine, warm.

I learned two things that day: to always carry a spare pair of gloves on an ice climb; and, more important, what a sharing, caring guy Ken was. Thanks again, Ken.