S.E. Sandstone Trip Report (med/long)

[Anthony R Bubb]

Spring Break '95 - Southeast Sandstone Tour
(Trip Report- MODERATE)

We were slated to take off Thursday evening, for the East coast,
to climb in N. Carolina, but we saw that the weather was unfavorable,
so we bagged that and decided to go to the bars that night. We got
pretty messed up, and stayed out until 4am. Getting up at noon, on
Friday, we packed and headed down to Sandrock, Alabama.
We arrived at Sandrock Friday night, at about 11pm, pitched
a tent and slept. It was cloudy that night, but had cleared up
well by 9 or 10am. We did the routes "First Black Man in Space", where
John got tired at the top and took a short fall before finnishing, I
warmed up on the route, cleaning his draws. We bagged a few TR's
from some friendly locals, who all seemed to have an extreme sunburn
problem about the nape and throat...
I flailed on a 12b for a while to try to wreck my day by burning
out right off of the bat, buit it was to no avail, we were destined to
get in a few good routes. Going up "The Pinnacle", tailing a guy I'd
just met (Jeff) on TR, I dragged up my rope and set a line on the
unleadable 10b next to "Comfortably Numb (a 5.9). The 100' face overlooks
a valley some 1000' below the base of the cliff. A pleasant lake and
town is down there. Both Comfortably Numb and the 5.10 were 30' of slab
followed by 60 or 70' of vertical to overhanging plate-climbing. An
interesting route (10+, most likely) existed just to the right of C.N.,
following the overhang all of the way up, instead of weaving in and out
on vertical walls. If you go to Sandrock, don't miss these routes.
After bagging these, we ended up late in the afternoon (we'd
all run several laps on the Pinnacle routes) in a crowded area, with
many TR's. We bagged a bunch of free lines, finding Sandrock 5.8
cracks to be consistant with 5.6's at Red River, and 5.9's to be
about like Red River 5.7's.
After cooking some pasta and the like, we bedded down.
I don't reccomend this on the weekends at sandrock. The loacls who'd
been so friendly durrriing the day became quite drunk, and LOUD. We
were in the tent listening to the guy maybe 40' away pursueing a
young lady, telling her she was "too chicken to take off her shirt
and show off her T#@s." At that point (midnight) I'd had enough, and
hollered for them all to shut up. They didn't, but thankfully the
volume went way down.
We got up Sunday morning, and found that the rain had soaked
everything, so we drove 2 hrs. to Atlanta, to John's house, for a break.
We got up and drove to the Little River Canyon Monday morning,
wandering down in to an area we still can't identify, and did some
sport-climbing, since it was raining. I warmed up on some route
I thought was 11b, and John followed and then did all but the final
crux (which was soaking wet sloaping crimpers) of an 11d-ish route.
We both failed to stick to the glassy and wet holds up there, and
bailed on a biner. John and I had scoped out a "WAY overhung" area
to the left that overhung as much as it ascended. There was one route
there that john had been admiring. I said I saw a sequence through it,
and John looked at me and said "If you think you can climb *THAT*, I'd
like to see it." (I'm a sucker.) Though it was only 40' tall, it
overhung about 30 feet, and had some pretty blank areas. There were
some wet holds, so the lead was sketchy (I didn't want to dirt out
in the talus pile, and I'm still nursing 4 torn ligaments in my left
ankle, so I didn't want to swing into the wall either, at least that's
my excuse, and I am going to be sticking to it.), so I stick- clipped
the first two bolts. The starting moves there were only 5.10a/b anyway,
so it turns out not to have mattered. Getting to the third bolt was a
bear though, involving heal-toe cams, knee-dropping twist locks, and
4' static reaches to sometimes small holds. The 3rd clip involved
making a long static reach leaning back off of a hand-jam in a
flaring horizontal to a sloper at the lip, 4' away. Next, locking a
cammed toe into the same hoizontal, the hands were matched neerby,
on the sloper. From this position, I went for an insane 3' dyno out from
under the roof up a blank 30 deg face to another wet and greasy horizontal.
My feet lost their purchase in the toe-locks, and my hand slid
off of the slopers as I propelled myself at the hold. I got my feet
undernieth me so that I wouldn't come into the wall too hard on the
fall, and screamed "falling", (or some other "f-word" roughly translated
to meen the same thing), and prepared for the jerk of the rope coming
tight, but it didn't. Somehow I'd clasped the hold and was swinging off
of it. I remember John at the bottom Saying "SH#@! Oh my GAWD!" and
I was matching hands and swung up to lock my heel onto the horizntal
as well. I just hung there for a second, staring at John, not sure what to
do. I was absolutely certain I was supposed to be hanging at the end of
my rope, but I double checked, and I wasn't. I clipped the bolt and made
a few more moves to the soaked top of the route and lowered off. It was
the hardest stuff I'd ever done in my life!
(If you climb in Little River Canyon, and know the name of the
route, please tell me. I am clueless, but it is a toughy.)

It was getting to be kind of dark, and I was toast, so John
tied in to get the draws. A few moves later he, uh, well, let's just say
that the draws eventually got cleaned. (*_grin_*)

The clouds cleared, and we saw the stars, so we decided to head over
to Chattanuga, TN, to T-wall. When we got there, we found that it was
cloudy again. When we woke up, it had poured, and the climbers there said that
the weather and rock sucked the day previous, so we went back to Sandrock.
This was all Tuesday. Back at Sandrock, we ran into the Purdue Outing
Club, which had a 38 member trip there. We bagged a few of their TR's on
Jaws (5.9) which was SOAKED, and on Whale's Tail, Misty, and I floundered
on a 5.12 again. We decided that we were just too tierd to climb hard, so
we went to do some easy trad leads. John is somewhat of a beginning leader,
and wanted to do some trad 5.8's. We found one that was dry by the name of
"CrackerJack" It was a little dicey on the pro at teh bottom and the
top, but not terrible. John racked up and charged up to teh crux, where
the crack dissapeared and he had to pull onto a slab. All was well until
his foot slipped. John took a nice 10'er (no squeeling, like I would have)
on my #6 Wall-nut. He banged up his knee a little, but was OK otherwise.
It was his first trad lead fall, though he'd started climbing trad quite
a while ago. HE asked me to finnish the route, which I did. I got
up to teh top of the 65' cliff and hung a hanging belay, so I could sit on
my harness and hang out above the valley below. The wind was whipping
it up, and my slings kept getting blown strait up in the air, but it was
in the 70 degree range, so it was a pleasant feeling, up on top, being
blown around. John followed He'd claimed that the nut he fell on was
"bomb-proof" and anticipated a tough time cleaning it. When he bumped it
it just fell out. He just stared at me, wide eyed for a second. It was
good, it was just above such a wide constriction that it had not set in
hard, and he'd wiggled it with the rope on second, moving it out of place.
I was amused. We bailed off of teh cliff and headed to the car to get
the stove out and eat in a hurry... weather was brewing.

We started cooking dinner (pasta again, with corn and potatoes)I
when a big jacked up truck pulled in to the road behind us, with it's huge
fog lights and whatnot neerly blinding us for life. 3 Guys got out and
announced that they were from some first resonder organization, and that
the lightning and thunder we saw coming was part of a system that had already
produced 4 tornados and 5" of rain only 20 min away from us, and that
it was going to hit within 1/2 hour. John and I ate and hit the road for
Atlanta, to return to warm, dry (and not so drafty) beds. On the way home,
the metalurgist in john had appearantly increased the lead content of his
foot. We were cruising through a small Alabama town and I was looking ahead
and yelled "COP!" John slowed, but as we passed (we'd been going 75 in
a 50 zone) the cop pulled out. We knew we were in trouble. John was
going "oh god, just what I need!" I flicked on the overhead light and the
atlas and waited. As soon as John passed a stop sign, we were pulled over.
We started discussing the fact that we were "lost". The cop asked what was
going on, and we said we were lost on our way to atlanta, and had been trying
to figure out where we were, and that the speed must have drifted. A few
minutes later, we were politely given directions to Atlanta and asked to
watch our speed. No warning written even!

We sat out two days of climbing, as the whole S.E. was 40 degrees
and rainy. Friday we headed for Sunset Rock (which sucked, so I won't tell
you about it) and then Twall. John had to Return to Atlanta for Staurday,
so I asked him to leave me at Twall and pick me back up sunday on the way
back to school. John Lead "Golden Locks (5.8+)" just before departing,
stuffing it with gear. It is a great climb. I bedded down, and found a
few people to climb with when I woke up. Coincidentally, a group of 3
was there, looking for a fourth. I ended up paired with (surprise) "John".
Hereafter refered to as John#2 to avaoid confusion, he was mostly
a gym and sport climber, and had minimal trad exp. I was put on lead.
I selected "In Pursuit Of Excellence (5.9+)" for a warm-up. It was a
Fine line, and I loved it. T-wall is some of the finest sandstone around,
and eats gear like you wouldn't believe. The jams are wonderful, and the
pro unquestionably good (when you are in a good crack, that is...). I was
placing hex after hex, with stoppers and tricams between. The climb was
a tad bit (actually, QUITE) wet, but the line was still ***'s. I got up
the 100' climb and put John#2 on belay. He took (ehem) a few falls. At
the top, he pulled onto the ledge and said: "That's the hardest damn 5.9
I've ever been on." I never saw him because he'd been below the 10' roof
the whole time, out of sight, but he mentioned all of teh laybacking he did.
I didn't do a single one... I guess he had never really learned to jam.
All of the locals did later tell me that "In Pursuit..." is the local sandbag,
and is "At least 10a or 10b." I don't know about that, but yeah, it was
at least 5.9+.
John#2 and I expressed our mutual concerns about his potential to
climb hard 5.10 or 5.11 cracks, so I went searching for another partner.
I ended up doing a few more routes with a few more people, including an
11b sport route that spit me off at the crux. Just goes to blow my ego.
I went on to find one more route and settled on a 5.10+ called "Mean Cuisine"
The guidbook had mentioned that "A spicey runout or two adds flavor" to the
route, so I scoped it carefully. I racked up all my tricams, and my
smallest hexes, as well as a few #0 and #00 Micromates and my RP's and
stoppers. A Canadian guy named Kevin (who said he could do 5.10 cracks)
was roped up for belay. I got on and worked up the dicey seam, getting a
few good pieces in. Soon the crack dissapeared and became a nothing.
I was on a vertical face with 1/4 to 1/8 inch slopers covered with lichens
and 20' above my last good piece doing what I swear were 5.11+ moves.
I really wanted to bail, but couldn't down climb the moves, so I went on.
Eventually I came to a good piece, and then an anchor at the top.
My second looked up at me and said "There's no wayi that I'm following
that." I cleaned it while being lowered and packed back to the base of the
cliff just before dusk. I ate dinner with John#2, Alex, and Sammy, who I'd
started the day with. We sat about, discussing what foods were good for
climbing trips, recipies, and the fact that Alex scared himself as witless
(as I had scared myself) on a trad 5.10 that day.

I got up Sunday morning just before sunrise and cooked some
oatmeal before heading up the hill. I was up there by 8am, and climbing.
I hooked up with Joe, a guy who was also alone that day, at least until
his pal showed up in the afternoon. Joe is a guide and instructor for a
local climbing school, and knows Twall pretty well. Joe asked what
routes I did the day previous to figure out what I climbed like, so he
could choose some good lines for us to do. I mentioned doing "A nastily
run out 5.10+ that seemed to be more like a 5.11 to me" Joe said "Was
it called MEAN CUISINE?" Appearantly the route has a reputation...

Joe and I warmed up on the moderate, yet sustained "PASSAGES (5.8)".
It is a *** lovely route, about 130' tall, a must-do. Joe cruised up behind
and we rapped off. I spent some time doing some boudering and snagging a
few routes before Joe and I decided to do a 5.10a dihedral called "Margin
Of Profit" that I'd heard about. I and Joe located it and I quickly jammed
up past the first 6' roof, then up to the second roof (7') about 80' or
90' off of the deck. Several people had said something about heading left
out of rthe dihedral, and there was a big horizontal. I placed a few pieces
under the roof and looked both left and right. I was getting pumped, so I
hastily went left, as I had been advised. Well, as I heel-hooked up and
around the arette on which I had arrived I pulled myself to a spread-legged
sitting possition on the 8 inch ledge/corner and yelled "I must be in the
front Row!" A few people looked up and said that I was off route, ant that
I sould have gone right. Standing on the ledge and looking over, I realized
that they were right. There the big holds were! I was too pumped to get back
down the roof, so I paced a blind nut or two and started strait up. One
person yelled "Hey, it's a new route." I responded (20' above my last piece,
feeling pumped and on 5.10 moves) "I'll call it 'Margin of Error' if I live.
After about another 10' I got a good piece, and ran another 20' to the top.
It was an awesome route, about 130-140' or more in total height. Joe trailed
his rope and started up. About 10 falls later he started talking about it
being a bit difficult. At the top (20 falls later?) he looked at me with
saucer sized eyes and said "That was a stout lead." I looked at him and
responded "Thaths whffath I Wath Sthfinking." My mouth was still a little
to dry to talk correctly...

John Cioci (my usual climbing partner) had arrived to see the
latter half of the adventure, and pulled and coiled the ropes while I
booted and packed up. We hiked out and started the drive back, my head
still abuzz. It would have been my last route of the day wether or not
John showed up. I'd had my fun, and the week's climbing had worn on my body.

Earlier Today, 2 days later than that last climb, we met on campus
to discuss some future plans (Zion, Arches, Red Rocks). Meanwhile we decided
to do a few "buildering routes". You know, I couldn't even do a pull-up
2 days later. I am toast!

-T. (Who's admittedly too long-winded to write a short trip report.)