TR: Big Rock Candy Mountain
Vital img
"In the Big Rock Candy Mountains,
All the cops have wooden legs,
And the bulldogs all have rubber teeth,
And the hens lay soft-boiled eggs..."
I was lying on the beach, so relaxed it felt like I had just been massaged. The
sun was warm, not hot. The waves sounded distant, soft. My girlfriend was
smiling at me. I was dreaming.
The phone rang. It was like a recess bell. Play time. Climb time. It was Crazy
Dave, you probably know him; in one of his incarnations. The kind of guy who
can not only talk you into crazy things but actually get you enthused about
them. "It's kind of early", I muttered. "Yeah, I couldn't sleep", said Dave." I
thought we could get an early start, we might have trouble finding it". Early
was 2:30am. "It" was Big Rock Candy Mountain, a 1300ft granite dome, or
"bubble", in the South Platte area. Sounds like it would be easy to find, but
if you have ever wandered the dirt roads in the area, (largely unmarked),
trying to find a place that you have never been, guided not by written
directions but by Crazy Dave's vague recollection of what some guy told him at
a party, then you might think "a little trouble" was an optimistic estimate.
Actually, after a groggy drive from Boulder to Turkey Rocks; a few wrong turns
down dead end roads and one hill that we got stuck on brought us to what Dave
was sure must be the back side of the big stone. I considered this a major
victory not because I was sure he was right, but because it meant getting out
of Dave's truck which is always a good thing. The truck, number 28 as it is
called, (affectionately by Dave and with a grimace by all others who have
braved it's interior), is an old Celestial Seasonings tea delivery truck which
Dave picked up after it was deemed "unsafe for highway use". Its "a little beat
up".
The climb we had come to do was "Childhood's End". An appropriate name for what
would be the longest climb either of us had ever done. Just the week before I
had finally done the "Naked Edge", on my birthday. I felt ready for a long
route. An hour of hiking (read: running) brought us to the front of the rock.
Holy Shit! Not only was Dave right about this being it, the person who named it
was right!
It looked to be everything I'd hoped and feared. 1300 feet might not be big in
Yosemite, but in Colorado it's the biggest piece of exposed granite we've got.
Nothing to do but climb it.
Hoping to climb Half Dome the next year, we planned this as a training climb to
work on efficiency and teamwork. We had the climb all planned out with Dave
leading the crux pitch and me leading what turned out to be most of the scary
pitches. Dave is up first and blasts up the first easy pitch. My lead, one of
only two crack pitches on the route and the only offwidth. I'm so delighted I
can barely speak. Let me just say that offwidth and I go together like jello
and beer, like nudity and sleet, like, like.... yeah. Halfway up the pitch, way
above the only piece it looks like I'm going to get, I'm thinking, "Dammit man,
when the guide book says rack up to a #4, don't leave it in the truck!" I
struggle to the top wheezing and whimpering on what would have to be called a
slab climb, really. Dave comes by so fast I barely get the gear sling around
his neck and is soon calling "of belay". Cool! Things are really clicking and
we are about 5 pitches up before we even get sunlight. My lead, did I mention
that somehow I got all the scary leads? Ok, a full rope length and only two
bolts, it's only 5.8, right?
I never find the second bolt. I'm about fifteen feet from the belay when I
start thinking, "Wow, I'm a hundred feet out from a crappy old rusty 1/4" bolt.
After I pull that, it's just the belay, two crappy old rusty 1/4" bolts." This
thought calms me to the core. My legs are hardly shaking when I clip into the
belay; two crappy old rusty 1/4" bolts.
The crux pitch. The wind picks up. Really picks up! We are in luck, this pitch
was originally aided, and although Dave tries valiantly to free the .12a
section, he is forced to aid through it in the huge gusts of wind. I cruise
what becomes our crux at .10d up an incredibly fun crystal pimpin' water
groove. Up around the corner and I stop dead. I'm at a bolt but I can't see any
others. I can't tell where the route goes and although I know there is some
.10a-R on this pitch, I don't want to get off route. It looks like more than an
R runout, its a long way to the top of this bulge, what if there isn't a belay
up there?
Deadlock. I can't make myself leave this bolt and suddenly I just want down. I
stop caring about this beautiful route that I've so looked forward to doing.
Pride? Forget it, I'm scared, more scared than I've ever been on a climb and I
realize that we are not on home turf. We are way the hell out in the hills
somewhere, where even we might have trouble finding ourselves. The wind is
gusting so hard that I'm using a sidepull for my windward hand to keep from
getting blown off the rock. I'm thinking crazy shit about how to get Dave up
here in my place. I think back to that dream and how nice it would be for it to
be real. If only this was the dream.
No, this is my moment of truth. The moment all climbers pursue. That moment
when the earth stops spinning just long enough to wait for your decision.
Finally I get a small glimmer of courage and before its gone I launch off
toward where I hope there will be a belay. After about 15 feet i look over by
my left hand and see...... a bolt!! I clip it pretty damn fast and soon I find
another and another on my way to the belay. I'm saved!!
A few easy leads and we are on top of the biggiest rock we've ever been on, in
one of the most beautiful setting imaginable. We sit back and reflect on the
day and on days to come. Eleven pitches in 4.5 hours, not bad. Maybe Half Dome
isn't such a faraway dream. The Platte River winds though sandy beaches 1300
feet below. In every direction the hills roll out past domes and lumps and
slabs of granite with unimagined thrills and adventures. I start thinking about
all those rocks and all the ones I've yet to see. The infinite variety of this
big old ball we live on. Big Rock Candy Mountain feels like the center of it
all.
Thanks for playing.
Brad Baker
for the motivation...
Brad Baker
Sent via Deja.com
http://www.deja.com/
Keith Hoek
lump...@my-deja.com
vita...@aol.com (Vital img) wrote:
> Flame alert! This is my first TR, have at it. I wrote it in the early
nineties.
Hi vital image,
I have previously posted trip reports here and have gotten little
feedback, people seem more intereseted in flaming each other about silly
rhetoric issues. So I thought I would do my part and give a little
feedback, it was a great TR, enjoyed it pleasently. useful too, that
climb has been on my tick list for a while!
-cheers
pat vernon
David Harris
Great TR
>No, this is my moment of truth. The moment all climbers pursue. That moment
>when the earth stops spinning just long enough to wait for your decision.
Beautifully said.
One of the well-known California climbers of a couple of generations ago
said "Climbing would be great if it wasn't for all that damn climbing," but
transcendent moments like the one you describe make all that damn climbing
worthwhile.
D