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Squamish TR : Part VII

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A.M.

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Jan 17, 2003, 3:20:56 PM1/17/03
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Squamish TR : Fear of A Black Granite
Part VII

Following the failure on the Grand Wall, Wolfang and I decided to explore
the Apron Wall of the cliff, a gently sloping slab on the Chief, providing
some great friction climbs. Our plan was to climb the 7-pitch 3-star route
"Diedre (5.8)" which we had heard so much about. But first we decided to
tick another gem off our list by climbing the route "Exasperator (5.10c)" on
the Grand Wall. We arrived at the familiar base of the Grand by 11am, mostly
owing to the chilly September weather which kept us in our sleeping bags far
too long on this trip. Exasperator was a route recommended to us by Sig
Issac when we met him on the Upper Malamute, and so we were eager to try it.
As it was my lead, I was happy to rack up for it. Unfortunately the rock was
rather wet from rainfall during the night, and the rock was especially black
in appearance. Memories of "Rainy Day Dream Away" worried me, as I knew I
would be relying on jamming rather than smearing.

I started up the wet crack, protecting unusually heavily since I was fearful
of an imminent fall. It didn't seem possible that I would be able to make
any upward progress at all as I felt my shoes skidding off the wet rock, and
my hands greasing out from the crack. But progress up I did, through painful
finger jams which I torqued on deliberately so as to feel safer. I came
across ribbons of tape and chalk as I made my way up, remnants of the
hundreds of climbers who make the ascent of this crack each year. Personally
I had stopped taping my fingers for two reasons: the first is that my tendon
pain which had been so abundant in the gym back home had now disappeared
inexplicably, and secondly I wanted to feel every nuance of the jam, and not
have my sensitivity dulled by the tape, something I experienced on the first
few days in Squamish. The crack got more difficult higher up, but through
diligence and patience I finally found myself at the first anchor. The route
is actually about 50 metres, and can be split into two pitches at .10a and
.10c, but most people simply climb it as one route. The ".10a" section had
been so "exasperating" that I clipped my daisy chain to the anchors and
immediately bellowed "off belay".

Wolfang scurried up to my stance and we swapped leads. He began off on a
very technical and awkward right-angling fingercrack, which he sewed up in
typical fashion. It took him a long time to feel comfortable enough to free
climb the route, but impressively he suddenly moved through a long hard
section and reached the left-angling fistcrack. He finished up the route and
I was quickly on toprope. The traverse was indeed difficult, with shallow
fingerjams and reachy movements. The rain had dried up enough to provide
decent friction, but the climb was certainly strenuous. Once the traverse
turned more vertical again, I was able to move quickly and easily up to the
left-angling fistcrack. This proved far more difficult than I could have
imagined, and I decided to leave a stuck camalot in the crack momentarily
while I finished the route. Call it silly, but I wanted the clean toprope
ascent. I retrieved the camalot on rappel.

We packed up around noon as a group of climbers approached and began eyeing
the spectacular crack. The rock was now nice and dry, and I envied their
fortune. We walked out from the forest, and along the path toward the Apron.
We had already attempted to scout out the start to Diedre a few days
earlier, and had failed to find it. The approach turned out to be rather
dicey, as we maneuvered over mossy ledges and steep paths up the forested
part of the lower slabs, trying to locate the start to Diedre. Eventually I
told Wolfang and Alejandra to wait for me as I scouted ahead. After quite
some climbing and searching, I finally found the obvious start.

Wolfang started up the first pitch, which was a low-angle slab which
zig-zagged significantly to the first anchor. When I followed, I decided it
would have been easier to simply free solo the pitch, and avoid the rope
drag. We swapped leads and I started traversing left towards the most
prominent feature of the route, the 5.8 layback Dihedral. I moved quickly
and effortlessly along the extremely frictioned rock, placing no protection,
running the two pitches together to arrive at the Dihedral.

Wolfang soon joined me at the belay, and he began laybacking up the route.
There was an English couple ahead of us who were moving rather slowly, but
the weather was fine and we weren't in any hurry. My partner moved through
the layback with some, but not much difficulty. He soon arrived at the next
anchor.

Cleaning the 5.8 pitch, I was so enthralled by the experience that I could
hardly wait to begin leading again. I now understood why Diedre was such a
classic. Excellent friction and laybacking on highly textured rock with good
protection : it was a wonderful stress-free way to climb. Wolfang, on the
other hand, was not enjoying himself at all. He was sullen and bored by the
climb, and wanted to go down. I offered to lead the rest of the route, and
he agreed.

I started off on the next pitch, moving so quickly that Wolfang was unable
to feed me the rope from his ATC fast enough. I apologized and moved more
slowly, but I still raced through the next 5.8 layback, placing two nuts for
mere formality. Before I came to Squamish, I read in the guidebook that
local legend Hamish Fraser soloed the Squamish Buttress via Diedre in 34
minutes car-to-car. I simply could not understand how somebody could risk
their life in free soloing, and have always felt that such an act is
something which requires complete commitment body and soul to the act. I
still do, but on that day something changed within me. I felt a confidence
in myself and a complete trust in my abilities, that placing protection
almost felt unnecessary and superfluous; that is to say, I found the
enjoyment of climbing so pleasurable that stopping intermittently to place
protection was breaking the flow of the climb, and interrupting the "dance"
on the rock.

The couple ahead of us was finishing up the last pitch when I reached the
next belay, and I stood there, my protection well below me, watching the
leader climb with complete casualness. I did not feel a false sense of
security; I felt so much in control of the situation that clipping into the
anchors at the time was something I did not even consider. I know that many
people may find it difficult to understand, just as I did when reading such
accounts.

When Wolfang reached my perch, I ran out the last pitch placing no
protection, except for the rusty piton which protruded from the rock on the
crux move onto Broadway Ledge. Wolfang was very concerned that the hour was
getting late, and we quickly considered on the best retreat from the cliff.
The couple ahead of us had more foresight than we: they were going to walk
off down a path to the right, and both had headlamps. As for us, we decided
to rappel, and we had only one headlamp.

We began to rap quickly as the sun set on the horizon, although as many of
you probably know, rapping on low-angle slabs is rather difficult. I began
to ignore the backup prussik since the friction on rappel was such that even
when one let go of the brake line, one would still arrest. I had to
continually shove the rope through the rap device in a concerted effort to
move down the rock.

Wolfang was becoming irritated at the late hour and our slow progress down.
He was always first to go on rappel, and I was always forcing myself to
remember which side of the rope to pull. I do not begrudge him for his mood
however; each of us acts differently in situations. For me, the approach,
the climb, and the descent, are all part of the same enjoyable experience.
The route-finding, the weather, the decisions, the retreats, and the
pathfinding in the dark, are all enjoyable aspects of climbing. If I wanted
to simply "climb", I could stay in the single-pitch Smoke Bluffs, or better
yet, go to a climbing gym. That doesn't mean that Wolfang's feelings were
wrong; we simply find different aspects of climbing enjoyable, and I respect
the fact that he does not find certain things enjoyable that I do.

We finished rappelling in the dark, and found that Alejandra was not waiting
for us anymore. She had left a note that she had returned to the campground
because we had agreed to meet friends there at 6:30 and were probably late.
It was a wise thing for her to do, especially before dark, and so we
continued the perilous descent in the dark, with Wolfang leading the way.
His headlamp helped him find the path, and by moving slowly and cautiously,
we both arrived safely at the bottom. Wolfang then rushed ahead and quickly
disappeared, as he was concerned for his girlfriends safety, and wanted to
make sure she had arrived in camp. I made my way back to camp in the dark,
walking slowly and fatigued. But I was not distressed. Quite the contrary, I
was very happy, thinking about the climbing that day, and the wonderful
pleasures of moving up the rock without pause... a flowing and moving
"dance" up the warm granite, the sun shining on my neck, and the sky azure
above.

I arrived in camp to learn our friends had left due to the late hour, but we
dined on our usual camp food of rice and beans, and soon we were merry once
more. The dark mood Wolfang had been in was gone, and he began to reflect
jokingly about my leads that day, calling me "Mr.Runout". The unpleasantness
on the rappel had been forgotten, and once more we fantasized and discussed
our eventual triumph on the Grand Wall.


Chiloe

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Jan 17, 2003, 7:07:50 PM1/17/03
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"A.M." <adrian...@hotmail.com> wrote:
> Squamish TR : Fear of A Black Granite
> Part VII

Sounds like one helluva trip. It's been fun reading along,
but now I'm curious. All this detail -- were you writing up
notes around the campfire each night? How did a TR on this
scale fit into the trip?

A.M.

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Jan 18, 2003, 2:24:00 AM1/18/03
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"Chiloe" <ich...@hotmail.com> wrote in message
news:1105_10...@netnews.attbi.com...

No, I am basically reciting this from memory.... I guess I'm just a windbag
:-P


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