TR: Gumbies, Geezers and the Hard Truth
bbense+rec.cli...@telemark.stanford.edu
TR: Gumbies, Geezers and the Hard Truth.
I'm standing just past the crux face climb of Hobbit Book on
Marioulumne Dome in the Meadows. While cleaning the nut Mutt[0] had placed
where the climb goes back into the corner, I'm thinking "Man, I'm glad
I didn't lead that pitch, very airy and a nasty fall onto plate sized
chicken heads." There's a shiny new ASCA bolt next to the 1965 relic,
but it's still pretty airy. I could see Mutt up at the belay, one more
little roof to get by and we're outta here. I've got the piece racked.
One more slightly awkward move to get into the easy corner. While
futzing with my handhold, one of my feet mysteriously pops, my hand
pops off the sloper and I'm off. Oh well, embarrassing to fall on
easy ground, but that's why I'm seconding. Hmm, seems like a lot of
slack in the rope, WAIT A MINUTE THAT'S 10 feet, WHAT'S HAPPENING?
Getting up at 3am is always worth it. Mutt and I put into the
parking area for Low Profile dome after a 4 hour drive from the bay
area and just see a couple tourons. Cool, we'll try Golfer's Route for
a warm-up. As we're loading the packs, a Euro couple pulls up and ask
for directions to the route. Mutt has been climbing in Tuolumne for 20
years and always seems willing to help people with beta. It's my
second trip there with Mutt and frankly, the place terrifies me. Long
runouts, scary descents and high enough to make me breathe hard
getting out of the car. Fortunately, Mutt is willing to do all the
leading. We hooked up recently and seem to work well on the moderates.
He's coming back from an injury and getting his body back together.
I'm coming back after 18 years away from climbing and getting my head
back together.
While we're gearing up at the base of the climb, the Euro's
show up and by the time Mutt has clipped the top anchors there's
another two parties waiting in line. Throughly enjoyable face climbing
on golfball sized crystals. At 10am it's hot and sunny there
already. The rap off is uneventful, except that my new 8mm tag line
goes through the rap device much easier than my stiff stratos, hmm
maybe we should put the fat line through the rings next time. As I
reach the bottom[1] a chatty blonde guy from Tahoe, compliments us.
"Hey, you guys look smooth. A good climbing team."
"Thanks, but it's pretty easy to look smooth on this end."
We get the ropes sorted while Mutt trades beta about Deimos and
Phobos[2] with the chatty guy from Tahoe. I'm trying something new
this trip, one of those harness fanny packs that Metolius makes. I
definitely need lot's water at this altitude and this seems like a
good way to carry it. I got the deluxe large and the 1 liter bottle
and hose really don't fit very well. A 0.5 liter bottle and no hose
works great and leaves room for a windbreaker. I've carried a half
liter up and down the golfer's route and I inhale it on the short
hike back to the car. At the car, I suck down as much water as I
can on the short drive to the parking area for Drug and Mariuolumne
Domes.
My other experiment for this trip is kneepads. Since, I'm more
insulated than most climbers, I want to climb in shorts and shirt even
at 9000 ft. Many of the belays at Tuolumne are less than comfortable,
so knee pads help. You can pull them down to your ankles when hiking
in. Mutt taught me this trick.
Mutt has done Hobbit Book "5 or 6 times" and we begin the hike
in with just a rack and rope. I've got 0.5 liter of water in the fanny
pack and another 0.5 liter platypus in my pocket to drink on the way
in. The hike in is remarkably pleasant, but I'm huffing and puffing up
the boulders to the left of Drug Dome. There's a pocket forest above
Drug dome, really calming and peaceful except for the chilling bronze
memorial plaque glued to one of the boulders. After this comes a few
hundred yards of exposed 3rd class to reach a large ledge about half
way up the face of the dome where Hobbit book starts. We've seen fresh
vibram tracks in the one remaining patch of snow and a couple dropped
packs on the way there. We're really hoping there's not a line. We've
gots lots of daylight left, but no where near enough water to futz
around.
We reach the ledge about 11:30am to a rather astonishing site.
There's a party starting on Serrated Edge and another one with the
leader kind of lost on Middle Earth. However, sitting halfway across
the ledge is a guy with a Grateful Head kayaking Helmet[3] and a large
internal frame pack. He's anchored to what looks like a #4 and #5
camalot (nicely placed in opposition) in a wide crack probably 40ft
horizontally away from anything that would be considered the base of
the climb. The leader has more reasonable kit, his pack doesn't have
an internal frame, but has pieces in off route and is moving
slowly to the first belay. The second is clearly spooked, you could
serve a four course dinner on his pupils.
Mutt and I settle in for the wait. Mutt helps the lost party
with beta and I aim for the one patch of shade and suck down the last
of my water. The lost leader on Middle earth is kicking pebbles down
on my head, so much for resting in the shade. It's going to be a long
afternoon. Eventually the leader on Hobbit book gets a belay in after
the second has to move his anchor about 15 ft. He goes off and Mutt
comments on the situation. All I can say is:
"Well, at least they seem well equipped."
After a very long time a call comes down.
"Hey, are you guys going to climb Hobbit book? We're going
to bail, can you lower our gear?"
We answer yes, and Mutt blazes up to the first belay and begins
assisting the leader in working on the descent. Things don't seem to be
moving very quickly, so I get up there as well. I reach the belay
just as the leader is rapping off. From the belay it's a slanting
rappel into a corner, if you miss the corner for some reason, you'll
be stuck 100ft above the ground. The second is truly gripped at this
point and out of curiosity I ask:
"Have you ever rapped before?"
"No, this is just my second outdoor climb. We climbed in Oregon
last week."
Mutt works on keeping him talking and I make suggestions about
a better stance. I can see most of the veins in his forearms. When he
takes off, he's gripping the rope thumb down and doesn't have a
backup. I'd comment, but the guy has enough to deal with. Mutt talks
him past the crux, into the corner and safety. Now to deal with
lowering the anchors. I wanted to just clip it all together and toss
it off, but Mutt had the better solution of using the other parties
ropes to lower it. The belay by the way is a work of art, 3 pieces
in a cordlette and two pieces opposed. You could have lowered a truck
off it. This is a puzzle to Mutt who's very old school, two solid
pieces and a sliding X is his standard belay. I mention that
"someone's been reading John Long."
Of course the lowering fails, the slope is no where steep
enough. We are blinded as to what's actually happening in the corner,
so can't make suggestions. The leader of the bailing party calls
up and asks if we'll belay him if he climbs up to get the gear.
This seems reasonable[4], the terrain is easy. Mutt makes a hip belay
and the leader eventually gets to the gear.
"Can you lower me?"
"No way. You'll have to downclimb." I yell down. Mutt comments
that it's "good practice for him". After what seems like a very long
time, he calls up "off belay" and we toss the rope down. It's been
easily two hours since we showed up at the ledge. All my water is long
gone, but the belay is mostly shaded and cool. Somebody owes us a few
beers, but I figure it's all deposits in the karma bank. There's no
sign of thunderstorms, so we can be relaxed about the time. We get our
own ducks in a row and Mutt heads up the book. While we were assisting
the first party, a party of four shows up to do the Hobbit book as
well.
The women leading them gets to the first belay just as Mutt
is yelling down "Off belay." We exchange pleasantries as I'm taking
a bit of time to get one of the belay pieces out (a tri-cam). The
second pitch is really nice and I'm thinking, "Hmm, seems like there's
solid pro all the way up. Could I keep my head together to lead this?"
I'd certainly have to carry more gear than Mutt, he places it on the
hard bits but runs it out on the easier ground.
The next belay is less than comfortable and dealing with
the rope is a problem. We can't let it trail down since it could
easily get caught on plentiful knobs and chicken heads on the face.
Mutt has it draped in folds over his knee. I can't imagine how that
party of 4 is going to fit that many people here. After some fiddling
we get the rope from Mutt's knee to mine[5]. The kneepads were a
little annoying on the way up, but I'm glad I have them now.
The 3rd pitch is the crux of the climb, you have to leave the
book and head out on to a open exposed face. There's one bolt on the
open face. The view from here is spectacular, you can see everything
north of 120, granite domes from horizon to horizon. With my polarized
sunglasses I can see a rainbow around the sun. The angle of the face
hides the cliff below you. All you can see is the forest 5 or 6
hundred feet below.
Figuring out exactly where to head out on the face takes
Mutt a bit of time. Fortunately, I can see the bolt from the belay.
Uncharacteristically, Mutt takes a bit of time route finding on
the face. There's lots of knobs and it would be easy to get off
route. About 15 feet above the bolt, he girth hitches a cluster
of plate-sized knobs and about 15 feet above that the climb goes
back into the book. He quickly places a piece in the crack and
my breathing relaxes. The problem with belaying such leads is
that you don't have enough to do keep your thoughts occupied.
Shortly after that the call of "Off Belay" comes down.
Getting one of the belay pieces( a forged friend) out is taking me
a long time. The women leading the party of four shows up and
surveys the narrow belay.
"Did your partner say anything about a better belay
just above?"
"No, but it doesn't look any better from here."
"Hey, what's going on down there?" Mutt queries.
"It's taking me a while to get this friend out."
"Oh, okay."
Finally, the cam is loose and in no time I'm at the first
bolt. The exposure here is tremendous. I keep my eyes focused on the
climbing. It seems a bit stiff for 5.7 to me, but happily every time I
step and reach the holds appear. I get into the rhythm of moving and
resting, trying to keep my breathing relaxed. Time expands but I'm
back in the book fairly quickly. I can see Mutt up at the belay. The
stance back in the book is a bit awkward for me, Mutt has a longer
reach and sometimes cleaning requires that I stand on less than
perfect footing. I get the piece out and I'm rearranging my stance
when one of my feet pops without warning. My handhold is not good
enough to hold me from barn dooring and I'm off.
"Falling."
At first I'm just pissed. What a stupid fall!
Seems like there's a lot of slack in the rope.... I'm
10 feet below where I was and I'm not falling at gravity
speed, but I'm not stopping either. By now I've spun
around in to self-arrest position. I can see the black flecks
of rubber spinning off the toes of my shoes. A big set of
holds goes by and I grab for them, the weight comes onto
my arms but then my hands pop off. The next set of knobs
comes up, my fall is slowing and I'm able to hang onto these.
I'm easily 20 ft below where I fell.
By all rights, I should be swearing a blue streak. But I'm
not angry, I can't recall any emotion, just total focus on doing
whatever the situation required. I'm not sure if the rope caught me or
I managed to catch myself on the plates. I catch my breath and yell
up.
"Have you got me?"
"Yes, are you okay?"
I check myself a this point. One of my finger tips is sliced
and bleeding and I've got a few scrapes, but nothing serious. It
would have been much worse if I hadn't been wearing knee pads.
"Yeah, I'm okay. Nothing serious, just a few scrapes. Climbing."
"Climb on."
At this point I clearly remember thinking with some despair,
"Damn, I have to do those moves again!". However, it all goes much
easier this time and with one stop for some power breathing I'm up to
the belay. Mutt has some nasty looking rope burns across the fingers
of one of his hands, but we don't discuss what happened. I really
don't want to dwell on it until we're on flat ground. We get the
gear sorted, do the rope switch trick again and Mutt is off. There's
one slightly tricky section to get around the last roof, but then
the climbing eases off. Before long I'm at the top and fortunately
this climb has a totally straightforward descent. I don't think I
could have dealt with the exposed scrambling that's typical of
Tuolumne at that point.
As I'm writing this I get the cold sweats thinking about
what could have happened.
I start coiling the rope and attempt to distract
my thoughts with the beauty of the view from the top of the dome.
Mutt's rope burns are a bit worse than I realized at the last belay.
It must have been pretty painful to lead that last pitch.
"What happened anyway? Did the sticht plate get stuck?"
"No. I was laying a fold of rope over my knee when you fell
and the rope popped from my grip. Did you ever see that Spencer
Tracy movie The Mountain?"
"Yeah."
"Well, I tried to do a Spencer Tracy with my feeler hand,
but I couldn't hold you. Eventually I got my other hand back on the
brake side of the plate. What happened? It felt like you fell twice."
"Yeah, it was a weird fall, my foot greased off after I cleaned
that piece and I tried catch myself on a set of knobs on the way down."
There's a small patch of snow left on the top and Mutt is
able to make an snowball for his burns that lasts most of the way
down. Once we get back to the car and deal with the first aid, it's
clear that the weekend's climbing is over. It's about 5:30 so we
start the long drive back to the bay area.
Analysis:
In the words of Mad Eye Moody, "CONSTANT VIGILANCE!". Both
Mutt and I relaxed when I was well past the crux and within spitting
distance of the belay. I got sloppy with my technique and he got a bit
loose with the belay while dealing with the rope. But the hard truth
of the matter is that climbing involves decisions that put other
people at risk and sometimes you'll get those decisions wrong and
sometimes your partner will get them wrong. Most of the time it works
out just fine, it takes more than one bad decision to make an
accident. In this case two bad decisions ganged up, but due to luck
it's just a good story, not a tragedy. I've been on both sides of this
before and this hard fact drove me away from climbing 18 years
ago. I'm not sure how I'll deal with it this time, no wonder bouldering
is so popular these days.
- - Booker C. Bense
[0]- Name changed to protect the innocent... He does rather look
like a Mutt standing next to my Jeff-like physique. Somehow, my
climbing partners have always been taller and skinnier than me.
[1]- As you might guess, I am the rap anchor tester. I've easily
got 20lbs on Mutt.
[2]- Apparently, someone chopped the bolt that protects the crux of
one of them and there's now a nest of rap slings on a horn below the
crux. The bolt was put in by the FA's. You'll have to forgive my poor
memory for not remembering which one, but then again the only thing
you should trust less that gossip at the bottom of the crag is
gossip on usenet.
[3]- If you're read some of my previous posts, I'm kind of a gear
freak, especially when it comes to helmets. I know about helmets for
sports I've never even tried.
[4]- In retrospect, it would have been much better to tie the pieces
to the middle of the two ropes rather than the end of one. Seems
totally obvious now, but neither we or they thought of it at the time.
[5]- Girth hitch a sling around the folds, clip the sling to the
anchor. I set up for belay, then unclip the sling and drape the
folds over my knee.
-----BEGIN PGP SIGNATURE-----
Version: 2.6.2
iQCVAwUBO0JArAD83u1ILnWNAQGccgP+JczQZvTYiPBAuurflD3e82TP6EEZzeE1
QFSVysx/V8kvFD8NC1kUe4fqZdRFhNR9Q/RMGyveKYy0g7OvjjOkWyUt6MWJhSsF
ZlviCoYO/vMOCry40l9Pg5es7cZYMPjsPNeMq3/ER7+eBT7ZeaGVEjjtpkTTRS8V
gBB6IJ92/lI=
=+Lug
-----END PGP SIGNATURE-----
Irishman
<bbense+rec.cli...@telemark.stanford.edu> wrote in message
news:9htfbg$p37$1...@nntp.Stanford.EDU...
> Snip great TR
>
> [3]- If you're read some of my previous posts, I'm kind of a gear
> freak, especially when it comes to helmets. I know about helmets for
> sports I've never even tried.
Mmmmm, Gear is good, need more gear.
> [4]- In retrospect, it would have been much better to tie the pieces
> to the middle of the two ropes rather than the end of one. Seems
> totally obvious now, but neither we or they thought of it at the time.
I don't get this, how would that make a difference?
Irishman
bbense+rec.cli...@telemark.stanford.edu
In article <9i1tj1$geu72$1...@ID-80401.news.dfncis.de>,
Irishman <lucky_irish...@hotmail.com> wrote:
>
><bbense+rec.cli...@telemark.stanford.edu> wrote in message
>news:9htfbg$p37$1...@nntp.Stanford.EDU...
>
>> Snip great TR
>>
>
>> [4]- In retrospect, it would have been much better to tie the pieces
>> to the middle of the two ropes rather than the end of one. Seems
>> totally obvious now, but neither we or they thought of it at the time.
>
>I don't get this, how would that make a difference?
- - Then they could have just pulled the gear down rather than
climbing up to get it. Think ski lift. The first pitch on
hobbit book is a relatively low angle corner.
- - Booker C. Bense
-----BEGIN PGP SIGNATURE-----
Version: 2.6.2
iQCVAwUBO0S3qwD83u1ILnWNAQHKFAP/Y+ztn8BHGU0mX7Gty4SL4feD+qDlicpY
IdEPoeqmoVsx4HF5/7vV+XaSsJvikvK7kwbuJV9v+vTAULFXrcsq038EpmICQ4z/
V7YSSAL7W2E3cJ15YZKlUUCuV1od0/rAELya3w1NHScd0Nn+xftm/ATq+/feUMOi
MgZngzR2sSg=
=g8xg
-----END PGP SIGNATURE-----