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Guides Wall

Writer: Mike Morelli
Mike Morelli
Jun 6
4 min read

Updated: Jun 8

Date: June 6, 2026

Location: Grand Teton National Park, Wyoming, USA

Team: Chris Morelli

Field Notes: This is a classic and therefore, quite popular. We used the Jenny Lake Boat to reduce our approach time. The 6 pitches can be linked into 3 with an 80m rope and the rappels are all either DBA or trees. We carried a double rack as we linked pitches and brought gear .5 -> 2 with a small set of nuts.


Guides Wall Grand Teton National Park
Guides Wall

The Yeti hunters are back!


When I was growing up, my cousin Chris Mo had a small patch of forest behind his house. And I don’t mean some vast reserve of wilderness — I’m talking about a cluster of trees separating a few suburban homes.


To us, it might as well have been the Siberian wilderness.


At some point, we became convinced that Sasquatch, Bigfoot, the Yeti, whatever you want to call it - was real. (Personally, I still think it exists.) Not only was it real, but it was probably living in Chris’s backyard.


The fact that nobody had reported a credible sighting in years only made us feel more like explorers.


We never found the Yeti...but we did find some world-class alpine rock in the Tetons.


We took the boat across Jenny Lake early in the morning and started hiking toward Guides Wall around 8 a.m. Chris was still feeling the lingering effects of food poisoning from a few weeks earlier, but he soldiered on.


Chris walking up Cascade Canyon. Mount Owen looms above.
Chris walking up Cascade Canyon. Mount Owen looms above.

At one point, I was convinced we were going to bail. He looked dangerously close to puking up his morning protein shake. But somehow, the allure of impressing the attractive boat attendant with stories of a successful climb on the way back seemed to provide just enough motivation.


At the base of the climb, Chris transformed.


It was like a snake shedding its skin, a bear emerging from hibernation, or a bird taking its first flight.


There’s something magical that happens when it’s time to climb. The gear is racked, the rope is tied in, your hands touch the rock, and everything changes.


Chris flashed that big let’s freaking go smile and launched up the first pitch.


If you climb the standard route, the crux is often described as the final two pitches. Personally, I thought the first pitch was the real crux. Awkward stemming, some slabby movement, and mediocre protection made me very happy not to be leading it.


Chris linked the second pitch and built a belay just below pitch three. At the anchor, we swapped gear and loaded my harness.


The stoke was high, and I felt that familiar anxiety that appears when you know you're about to lead.



I started up some straightforward 5.6 climbing before arriving beneath the 5.7 dihedral. It looked absolutely classic. I began leading upward, carefully working my feet higher and focusing on my breathing. About halfway up, I reached the crux and stopped to place an extra cam. I shook out my arms and again brought my attention back to my breath.


Then Chris cackled over the radio.


"You're good. Just commit to moving up."


It was exactly what I needed to hear.


I found a solid handhold, wedged my foot into the crack, stemmed my left leg against the wall, and kept moving.


Through the crux, I dropped into flow. The climbing above was around 5.6 on absolutely incredible Teton granite. Suddenly I wasn’t thinking anymore — I was just climbing. Before long, I found myself on a ledge, building an anchor and belaying Chris up. I couldn’t help but take photo after photo of him climbing the beautiful corner system.



At the top of pitch four, we moved the belay onto a large ledge, traversed climber’s right, and stood beneath pitch five. There were two options: the standard 5.7 crack or the 5.9 splitter crack variation.


Chris had already made up his mind. The belay was built below the variation.


If there’s one area of climbing where I need significant improvement, it’s pure crack climbing. I watched in awe as Chris methodically worked his way upward, using a variety of hand jams and crack techniques.


When it was my turn to follow, I got humbled in the best possible way. At the belay, I gave Chris huge props. That’s one of the things I love most about climbing: there is always more to learn. The growth process never ends.


Now it was time for the final pitch. The money pitch.


"I've climbed this before, and I know you've got this."


Again, it was all I needed to hear. I looked up and knew I could do it. I could see where the crux was, what moves would be required, and how I wanted to protect it. It was the perfect amount of challenge — difficult enough to demand focus, but fully within my ability.


The climbing started easily, with good hands and feet, and soon I found myself beneath the crux. An incredible flake on the right side provided the key feature, and I settled into a layback position with both hands engaged.



The exposure beneath me was breathtaking. Behind me, the Northeast Face of Owen towered above the valley. This was my first alpine rock climb in the Tetons, and I was loving every second of it.


There was one moment, transitioning from the layback back into the main crack system, where things felt real. It was only a body length of climbing, but the fixed piton hammered in by legendary climbers long before us provided a bit of reassurance.


Before I knew it, I was through.


I know Chris was yelling encouragement the entire time, but I couldn’t hear any of it. My mind was completely blank. All I was focused on was moving upward.


Commit to moving up.


It’s become a bit of a mantra for me. When you fully commit to anything in life, the answers tend to reveal themselves.


At the chains, I brought Chris up and we shared a special moment. We had been talking about reconnecting in the mountains for a long time. We both share the same path of optimizing for alpinism, and when our ropes touched the ground after the fourth rappel, I knew we had something special brewing.



Our first major outing together, and we crushed it. Good flow. Good style. Good communication.


This is exactly why I left New Zealand and came back to the Tetons. It truly is a different class of mountain experience here. I feel at home.


Happy days...

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