TR: Life in a Cloud
Crotch Robbins
anniversary. Three years ago on our "second date" we climbed Mt.
Whitney via the Mountaineers Route in bitter cold, sharing a tent for
the first time.
ILONA: The time seemed ripe for another adventure on Thanksgiving,
and thoughts of a turkey dinner somehow seemed far less appealing than
a bit of good, honest, suffering with the person I love the most.
CROTCH: For this, our fourth Thanksgiving together, we decided to do
a wall, and Zion has always been our first choice for aid climbing.
It's comfortably climbable in the winter, has short approaches and is
only an 8-hour drive away. Whenever we drive there, we pass by Vegas
and the associated sandstone escarpment and consider the Rainbow Wall,
but the beta on the approach has always scared us away. Swain's
description of "lung-searing" slabs, rumors of 8-hour approaches, and
finally, seeing the wall and scoping the approach from the top of
Chrimson Chrysalis convinced us that our time was better spent driving
to Zion than exhausting ourselves hauling the pigs through hell.
ILONA: The Lowe Route on Angels Landing was calling…
CROTCH: But all that changed last month, when I had the pleasure of
climbing in Joshua Tree with Larry Hamilton who along with Joe Herbst
completed the first ascent of the Rainbow Wall (amongst some other Red
Rock classics) via the Original Route. Larry mentioned that he didn't
remember the approach being too grievous, and though he politely
declined an invitation to join us for a repeat, that was all we needed
to hear.
We stopped by REI on Tuesday night, picked up a couple of Bugaboos and
Lost Arrows as recommended by MadDog
(http://www.tradgirl.com/redrocks/beta.htm), and packed the bags.
After work on Wednesday we hit the road, and after a stop at the taco
shop with the best guacamole we drove non-stop to Vegas, pulling in to
the parking lot outside the loop road some time around 1am. We
crashed in Godzilla, and drove the loop early the next morning to the
Oak Creek trailhead where we made some final adjustments to the bags.
After some consideration, we decided to leave the hammer and pins in
the truck to make the climb more adventurous. We knew we could do it
with the pins, but thought we'd have to push ourselves a little harder
to make the wall go clean. Then again, we brought the cheater stick
so we weren't really committed to an ethically clean ascent.
ILONA: All in all it was really a leisurely start – the skies were
blue, the air was still, and we felt like we had all day.
CROTCH: Our haulbags are small and space is at a premium so we
wondered what we could leave behind. Instead of bringing bulky and
heavy approach shoes, we decided to hike in to the wall in Chacos and
switch to our loose-fitting climbing shoes at the base of the slabs.
We'd wear these throughout the wall, and then switch back to sandals
for the descent. I also opted to leave one jumar behind and clean
pitches using one ascender and my gri-gri.
ILONA: The decision to go in sandals was not really a hard one –
we've hiked long distances in them many times before, and they really
are our approach shoes of choice.
CROTCH: We dropped the bags off behind the bushes and drove Godzilla
back to the lot outside of the loop so that we wouldn't get a $50
ticket if we didn't make it back to the car by Saturday at 5pm.
After hiking the mile back to our bags, we started humping up the
approach but never found the "2-boulder" entrance to the drainage.
Regardless, things went pretty smoothly and hiking in sandals worked
well as usual. The approach starts out the same as for Chrimson
Chrysalis, but then takes the ridge to the right of the drainage below
the ramp to Chrimson. As expected, the hike was strenuous and our pigs
felt heavy, but the scenery was nice and the weather was pleasant with
nary a cloud in the sky. The forecast called for a 20% chance of
showers on Friday, but a look to the sky on Thursday made that hard to
believe. We were grateful when we reached the shade of the canyon
proper.
ILONA: And said a final goodby to the sun for the next 3 days.
CROTCH: It took us two hours to get to the fixed lines at the base of
the slabs. The fixed lines run up a steep section of slab through a
slick, water-carved groove and but on a day like Thursday it was hard
to imagine that this desert sees enough water to carve such features,
much less an entire canyon. In a similar vein, I've longed to see the
washes in Joshua Tree fill up because it usually seems so improbable.
I clipped into the fixed line, bounced a couple of times and jugged on
up. We had heard that the slabs were sketchy with heavy packs, so I
fixed 200' above the already fixed lines and headed back to pick up my
pig. Ilona and I both thought that the slabs weren't that fearsome in
climbing shoes, but agreed that they might be scary in hiking boots.
At the top of the slabs we bushwhacked to the base and arrived at the
bivvy pad 4 hours after we left the trailhead. If we hadn't fixed the
slabs we probably would have saved a half-hour but we were ahead of
schedule, so no big deal. We had a small snack and spread out our
sleeping bags to stake our claim, as we'd heard that a party might
hike in tonight for a free attempt the next morning.
Ilona had read more trip reports than me, and seemed to have pitch by
pitch beta, so I was a little wary when she offered me the first lead.
Usually we go best of 3 roshambo. The first pitch of the day always
makes me nervous, and the easy first pitch of the Rainbow Wall was no
exception. While only 5.6, I moved tentatively, placing 4 pieces on a
short pitch. The pitch ends 75' up on a ledge with one good (1/2")
and one bad (star-dryvin) bolt. I combined this with the 2nd pitch,
which I've read was one of the clean-aid cruxes. Two moves of aid
(though supposedly 5.7 free) through an overhang then a switch to free
brought me to a blank looking dihedral. A couple of bolts and hooks
later and I was staring up at a bolt 10' above me.
ILONA: I really hadn't heard anything bad about this pitch, I was
just feeling lazy and would rather climb the second pitch (actually 3
and 4) than sit at a long belay in the cold and dark.
CROTCH: "Ilona, I don't know what to do here." Though I damn well did
know what I had to do. Option One was a bad camhook off a camhook, to
a bathook, to a bad camhook, to the anchors. Either that, or I'd have
to leave my aiders and mantle from my cliffhanger onto a 1/2" edge,
then stem up to clip the bolt. The topo called this 5.7 but is sure
looked harder to me. Ilona, sensing my fear, offered to send up the
cheater stick and I gladly accepted. A few minutes later, the pitch
was in the bag and Ilona was cleaning.
ILONA: You gotta love cheater sticks – although it makes me have all
the more respect for Larry and Joe. Aid climbing is still so scary to
me, even with all the fixed gear and various cheating devices. If it
makes us move faster, I've got no problem using a little ingenuity.
CROTCH: Ilona aided up the "5.8 lieback" with a #5 camalot and then
switched to free for a few feet before moving back to aid and linking
Swain topo pitches 3 and 4 in the dark, using lots of hooking and
clipping mostly fixed gear (though she hooked past a bolt that she
didn't see by the light of her dim headlamp).
ILONA: This pitch actually felt like a bit of a breakthrough for me.
I started out all shaky, with that familiar "do I remember how to do
this?" feeling. By the end of the third pitch, I was trusting hooks
and feeling elated and free on the 5.8ish offwidth at the top. My
confidence was growing, and the climbing on this wall was fantastic.
CROTCH: After fixing 4 pitches, we felt pretty good about our
prospects of getting to Over The Rainbow ledge the next day in time to
fix a few more pitches and enjoy the view. For me, one of the main
attractions of the Original Route has always been Over The Rainbow
Ledge which is supposed to offer spacious accommodations with a unique
view of the Las Vegas strip. In fact, I brought my camera along just
for this reason, hoping to take some long exposures of Vegas at night.
After a hearty Thanksgiving dinner of cold canned chili and ravioli
with snickers for dessert, we were in bed before 8pm, our alarms set
for 5:30 a.m. I went to bed confident that we would climb the wall
without too much trouble. Any pre-climb jitters were gone and I was
looking forward to some fine climbing with lots of transition between
aid and free, something I needed to work on.
The sky was clear, the stars were out, and morning came before too
long. The nighttime temperatures probably reached freezing, but not
much colder. Just as it started to get light, a party of two, Tim and
Jeff, showed up hoping to free the route in a day.
ILONA: They happened to show up at a rather inopportune time – I was
just finishing my morning crap when I hear some rustling ahead of me
and see the bobbing of Jeff's head come through the trees. I calmly
pretend that nothing unusual is happening, as I welcome them to the
wall, and wish them the best of luck on their free climbing attempt.
At least it was still kind of dark.
CROTCH: We said that we'd be happy to let them start up ahead of us
as they'd certainly be moving faster. We watched as Jeff solved the
2nd pitch's 5.12 crux with a deep stem and long step-across. Tim, who
was following most of the route off the couch had a little more
trouble with the pitch. When Jeff cleared the 2nd belay, I started
jugging our fixed rope, and Ilona joined me soon after Tim started
following the second pitch. I hauled and Ilona jugged the next line
while Tim rested at the anchors on top of 3. Jeff felt that the 3rd
pitch was more difficult than the second, due to its sustained nature
and steep and "wild" climbing, and had taken a fall on the overhung
face climbing in the middle of the pitch. Tim, who was sending 5.11
pitches higher up fell on the "5.8" lieback which opens the third
pitch.
ILONA: Ha! I knew that part seemed hard for 5.8. Now I don't feel so
bad about aiding it.
CROTCH: By the time Jeff had left the 4th belay, we had hauled and I
was ready to lead, but we had spent a couple of hours waiting for them
to get to our highpoint and it was well after noon. The next pitch
started with free-climbing up a loose column and transitioned to a few
moves of what I consider delicate aid. The rest of the pitch was
unremarkable C1 to the next anchor, unless you're free climbing, in
which case you have to pull a hard undercling to turn the roof. We
watched Tim walk this pitch.
Ilona freed most of the next 5.10/C1 pitch in great form, but stopped
early at what turned out to be an intermediate belay station.
ILONA: I think I was inspired by Jeff's prowess, but this was yet
another breakthrough. I'd never done any "real" climbing on a wall
before, and this certainly felt like it. Awesome small edges around a
finger crack, followed by some rounded unprotected grunting near the
top. Truly incredible, and I was happy.
CROTCH: The next pitch brought us to Faith Ledges as darkness
approached. While I was leading it hailed for maybe two minutes, and
Ilona and I laughed that this must be the 20% chance of showers that
we were dreading. After hauling, I shortfixed and took off for
another 100' until I could set an anchor at the base of the 5.8
chimney. Ilona struggled up this feature as the topo promised she
would, and then had a hard time finding the route. She finally set an
anchor at the base of an overhanging wide slot as a rescue helicopter
buzzed us repeatedly and blasted us with blinding searchlights. Did
someone forget to tell the rangers what climb they needed to be
rescued from? Or was someone overdue for leftover turkey? In any
case it wasn't much past 7pm when the chopper started searching the
canyons for stranded climbers. The crew finally found what they were
looking for after about an hour of flying and hovered over the summit
of the Rose Tower.
ILONA: It turns out that I found the route just fine, but in the dark
it looked scary and imposing. Maybe I just didn't eat enough Gu during
the day, and shoving the pigs in front of me while cleaning earlier
had worn me out. In any case, I was having no part of that next pitch
and was glad to hand it over to Crotch. And besides, the helicopter
buzzing us was making the whole situation seem less appealing and far
more sinister than before.
CROTCH: Wishing that the helicopter could light our way for a few
minutes, I aided through most of the wide section in the dark, with #4
- #5 camalots, until the angle eased and I could free climb up a
leaning slot to a ledge with a crappy bolt. Ilona led a short airy
pitch that started off with an exposed step-around onto an unseen face
and ended up dumping her on Over The Rainbow Ledge with easy free
climbing. I followed, and we exploded haulbags (I should point out
that the hauling between Faith Ledges and Over The Rainbow Ledge was
heinous) onto the ledge which was as impressive as promised. The
views of Vegas were awesome. The lights of the strip shimmered like
jewels, as clouds, lit orange from the city lights, sent little
streamers of rain down on sections of city. We watched as the
helicopter crew made landing after landing on the top of the Rose
Tower and wondered what could be going on up there on such a mellow
route with an easy descent.
As we went to bed it started to drizzle, but we weren't too concerned,
as we'd been on desert walls in weather before. Usually it cleared up
in a few hours.
ILONA: The ledge was unusually comfortable and despite the continual
patter of rain on my bivy sack, I slept like a baby. Happy, warm,
content, and enthusiastic about the next day. It had rained and
snowed a bit like this when we were on Moonlight, and that went fine…
CROTCH: Saturday morning dawned, and we woke up on Over The Rainbow
ledge to a steady drizzle. I cracked the zipper on my bivvy sac just
enough to get a peek out and found myself looking into a cloud.
Whiteness all around, anywhere I looked, except towards my feet-
covered in a crust of slush- and just beyond them Ilona, lying in a
2-inch deep (and deepening) puddle. Going up was out of the question.
It had slushed all night, and the wall was running in water. The
varnished rock was as slick as glass, and I sure as hell wasn't going
to lead the next free pitch in desert-alpine conditions.
ILONA: At 5:30 am my alarm goes off and its still raining. I yell
over to Crotch to see what he's thinking, and we agree to at least
sleep on it until the sun comes up. An hour later, it's still raining.
CROTCH: Comfy in her crib, Ilona didn't know that she had helped to
haul my cell-phone up the wall. Stealthily as we packed the pigs, I
had slipped that bit of techno-gadgetry into my food bag. Now it
seemed that the phone would prove its worth. I would call the Red
Rock ranger station (number programmed in memory to facilitate getting
late exit permits) and ask for the weather forecast. They of course
would tell me that the system would pass by noon, and I would advise
Ilona that we should wait to see what the weather did. We had plenty
of salami and string cheese, tons of Gu and a can of pears (with
cinnamon spice!!)- enough food to sit on the ledge and wait out the
weather. Except that the phone had spent the night in my food bag,
out on the ledge in the slush. The food bag was now a water
repository, and phone was soaked. Beyond reason, I stuck the phone
between my thighs, hoping that some body heat would get the power
button to respond. No go. We'd have to base our actions on nothing
but our senses and intutiton. Reason (faulty) suggested that it never
rained in the desert for more than a day. Given that there was only a
20% chance of rain when we checked on Wednesday evening, the storm
system couldn't be that big. One option was to wait out the day on
the ledge, propped against the wall in our bivvy sacs watching the
world go by. Hopefully by Sunday, the sun would be shining and we
would be able to rappel the route in reasonable comfort. But then
we'd be forced to descend, walk out, and drive home in one day.
ILONA: Crotch thought we should stick it out a bit longer, while I
was having thoughts of getting out of there as soon as possible and
getting a room at the Silverton. Another hour or so passes before we
both start to get restless. I sit up for the first time all night and
notice that I've been sleeping in a fucking puddle, 2 inches deep, and
freezing. The rain that keeps falling is forming a layer of ice over
my bivy sack, and the puddle is getting deeper. I grumble out of the
sack and scoot a few feet to the left, where at least it is sort of
dry. Crotch and I sit in our bivy sacks and look out at, well,
nothing, because we are so socked in that we can't see more than
twenty feet in front of our faces.
CROTCH: The other option, the one that we knew would suck balls, was
to get out of bed, put on our frozen harnesses, stuff our wet gear
into the haulbags, and begin the numerous rappels through a
watercourse to the ground with fully loaded pigs. And then, upon
reaching the ground, we had to reverse the approach that has the
reputation (when dry) of being the mother of all Red Rock approaches
(which isn't saying much, but still…) We, of course, would have to do
it in our Chacos in the freezing rain down a drainage that was
actively draining, like a main vein.
ILONA: If we were going to bail today, I reasoned, we should do it
now, before the washes fill up even more than they already are, and
before the watercourse that is our escape route becomes a raging
waterfall. Crotch counters that we are safe, warm, and relatively
comfortable where we are, and that its bound to clear up before too
long. We are in the Nevada desert, after all, and it is prime
hypothermia territory out there if something went wrong during the
descent. Going up was certainly out of the question, sitting all day
on our asses and then facing a marathon day tomorrow (which could very
well be just as wet and cold as today, if not worse) sounded
distinctly unpleasant, and eventually we decided to bail.
CROTCH: We discussed our options and started thinking about what we
could leave behind for anchors. Once we got to end of Faith ledges
there were fixed rap stations all the way down. Somewhere between
Faith ledges and us was an abandoned rope that we could use for an
anchor if needed. Ilona mentioned that it looked like it was short
and that it had probably been chopped after it got stuck while being
pulled. We looked at each other and smiled as we considered having to
ascend a stuck rope in the freezing rain.
"If I go it will be trouble. If I stay it will be double."
And so the process began. Get out of bivvy sack. Take a crap. Put
on all my layers. Knock the ice off the harness and put it on. Knock
the slush off the haul bags and put all the wet gear in them.
ILONA: We tried to comfort ourselves with the thought that at least
we weren't 20 pitches up El Cap in a portaledge, just 8 pitches and
the slabs (which were now covered with a few centimeters of water) up
the Rainbow wall. My hands freeze, then come back to life with such
pain that I am very close to puking.
CROTCH: Oh yeah, and the worst part: put on the rock shoes that had
been soaking in ice water all night. Put on frozen gloves. Then, get
the ropes out of the puddle and flake them out. Rig the anchor. Toss
the ropes. Clip the bag into my device, and ride the pig down, as
muddy water wringed out of the rope by my rap device soaked my
[Crotch's] crotch.
While we were packing up, a break in the clouds allowed us to see the
beautiful wall green with glistening lichen, the shimmering slabs
below running with water, and a sizable waterfall over towards
Chrimson Chrysalis. It looked like a rainforest wonderland, and we
were awed and smiling despite cold hands and feet.
ILONA: Who would believe it? The desert transformed into a temperate
rainforest.
CROTCH: The next anchor we rapped off of was a 1/4" star-dryvin and a
loose slung block. From here slings around a decent tree brought us
down to the bat cave. On the way down, I retrieved the 40' of rope
left behind by another party. Ilona rapped down to the Bat Cave and
gladly exclaimed that she had managed to keep the rope out of the
rope-eating crack. We pulled and the rope got stuck in the
rope-eating crack. We chopped our haul line and left behind a length
of rope probably just as long as the one we had retrieved. From here
we fixed the 30' section down to the bolt anchors and began the steep
rappels through the watercourse that is the lower half of the Original
Route. By now our feet felt like blocks of wood, as they should after
a couple of hours in ice-water.
The rappels down the face went as smoothly as they could and we got
into a routine. Rap down, clip bag into anchor, lower down until bag
is on anchor, clip in, off rappel. Pull rope, thread anchor, set up
rappel, rig autoblock, wrestle bag off anchor. All the while,
33-degree water was dripping onto our feet, legs, harnesses and hands.
Locking biners took 2 hands to operate as their mechanism got jammed
with grit. Ilona's belay biner developed huge wear grooves from the
muddy ropes. Grit was everywhere, and it was still raining.
Finally, after 7 or 8 rappels, we were at the base of the wall. We
repacked for the hike out, and grabbed a rope that someone had left
behind at the base of the wall, thinking that we might need it's full
length to rappel the slabs that were trivial when dry, but death when
wet. In our wet climbing shoes we worked our way down, haulbags
holding as much if not more water than we had poured out of our
bottles up on Over The Rainbow ledge.
ILONA: The going was painfully slow through the initial talus. I
couldn't feel my feet, so every step had to be extremely deliberate. I
was carrying the lead rope in my arms, which meant there was a lot of
"toss the rope, butt-slide a slippery section, grab the rope and
repeat." We did three or four raps off of trees to get down the worst
of the slabs, until we reached the final fixed rope section.
CROTCH: The slabs, which drain the entire basin that the Rainbow Wall
defines, were running with water, and the culmination was a 60'
waterfall, where when we jugged up two long days ago, there had been
no more than a trickle. At the base of the waterfall was a knee-deep
pool of frothy water, and that's exactly where gravity dictated that
our rappel would end. Ilona had been worried about the pool all
afternoon, and when I got to the inflection point where the slab
steepened, she asked me "How does the pool look?"
ILONA: I remember on the way up thinking that the fixed ropes were in
probably the worst possible place if it were to rain. Just to their
left, the angle of the slab lessened considerably, and I was sure that
we'd have to fix our found rope off to the side of the standard
descent to avoid a swim. Ankle or even mid-calf deep water really
wouldn't matter too much – our legs were already so wet that we
probably wouldn't even feel it -- but any deeper and we'd run the
risk of getting our upper bodies wet. Because we were each wearing
multiple layers of long underwear, fleece jackets, polypro jackets and
a shell, our underlayers were actually dry. Getting them wet would
have resulted in hypothermia.
CROTCH: Not feeling charitable, I replied, "It sucks", which was the
truth, but I didn't need to rub it in. I rapped down, feet in a
freezing stream, until I was just over the pool and then swung to the
right to a small ledge that allowed me to escape without taking a
plunge.
ILONA: When Crotch said that it sucked, my heart sank. It was getting
too late in the day to arrange another rappel point. So when it turned
out that we could avoid the worst of the pool, I let out a loud whoop,
went off rappel, shouldered the pig, and lumbered off down the trail,
certain of success and with visions of a nice dry bivy cave dancing in
my head.
CROTCH: The time was 4pm and we had 30 minutes of twilight to make it
to the bivvy cave. I wasn't sure that we could find our way out by
the dim light of our tikkas. We raced for the cave,
ILONA: More like crawled…
CROTCH: lowered our bags down a tricky section, and downclimbed to
find a dry cave, with dry leaves and firewood, and some nice places to
sleep. I yelled up to Ilona that not only was the cave awesome, but
that we would be enjoying a campfire tonight. She though that sounded
better than a room at the Silverton. After unpacking the wet gear and
removing our harnesses, I set about making a fire, using every last
bit of toilet paper we have. If you know Ilona and I, you know that
this was an act of desperation. Finally, with some blowing the fire
took off and we had warmth. Dinner by the fire was amazing even
though it was the same crap we had been eating for 3 days: string
cheese, salami, bagels, dehydrated bananas, more string cheese, and a
snickers for dessert.
ILONA: The fire was awesome. I took off my soaking shoes and socks
and placed them near the fire. I took off my outer layers of (soaking)
clothing, wrung them out, and put them on again feeling much lighter.
I managed to convince Crotch to do the same, then unfortunately put
his socks too close to the flames and burned some holes in the toes
(Sorry Crotch!). I guess it was hotter than I thought.
CROTCH: When we first arrived at the cave, I looked for a drip that I
could put a water bottle under to collect some water for the night.
Unfortunately there weren't any obvious seeps. By the time dinner was
done an hour later, however, the dry bivvy spots that we had planned
to sleep in were a growing stream. The cave was filling with water
before our eyes, and we began to consider the possibility that this
canyon would flash flood while we slept. It was still raining. For
the umpteenth time that day, we repacked the haulbags and shouldered
our loads. The fire was quickly put out by smothering the burning
logs in the stream that had formed two feet to the East of the fire
pit. Walking out was reminiscent of sections of the Zion Narrows and
we were glad to have on sandals as the trail wound its way through the
middle of a rapidly moving stream. The sound of rushing water was
all around, and again the experience felt totally surreal, as just two
days ago we had hiked up this dry canyon stepping on boulders that
were now three feet under water.
After several stream crossings, we finally got to higher ground and
decided to make a run for the car. We were still in the clouds, so it
was hard to tell how far we had to go, but judging from the approach
it would be several hours. Scrambling and boulder-hopping, we
descended down the drainage. After a few wrong turns, found the trail
to the Oak Creek Canyon trailhead, and were back at the car by 10pm.
It certainly hadn't been our longest day out, but it was the wettest.
ILONA: One of the most pleasant points of any long backcountry trip
is always returning to the car and changing into clean(er),
comfortable clothing. This time, it was absolutely heavenly. Dry long
underwear and a dry bed in the truck with only pruned-up feet and
hands, and a really bad cramp in my back to remind me of where we were
just a few hours ago.
CROTCH: The next morning we feasted on the 99¢ breakfast at the Wild,
Wild, West, and drove home via Amboy and 29 Palms to avoid the
inevitable Vegas to LA traffic jam. As I type this, ropes, sleeping
bags and bivvy sacs are hung out to dry, Ilona's hands seem to have
become permanently dirt covered, and my cell phone emits a strange
burning odor when I try to charge it. By the way, I just got the
pictures developed and I've got one with a waterfall in the same frame
as the Cloud Tower. Amazing!
Guido
starring:
> CROTCH and ILONA
Cool weekend Crotch and Ilona. Not the customary T-day family gathering.
Well-written and well done!
G
Greg
> By the way, I just got the
> pictures developed and I've got one with a waterfall in the same frame
> as the Cloud Tower. Amazing
Great report. Nothing like a good epic. I'd love to see the pics.
-G
Mad Dog
>It certainly hadn't been our longest day out, but it was the wettest.
You two did a great job keeping it together in lousy conditions.
So are you planning to go back? The best was yet to come!
Andy Gale
Crotch Robbins wrote:
> CROTCH: For Ilona and I, Thanksgiving weekend is a kind of
> anniversary. Three years ago on our "second date" we climbed Mt.
> Whitney via the Mountaineers Route in bitter cold, sharing a tent for
> the first time.
>
> ILONA: The time seemed ripe for another adventure on Thanksgiving,
> and thoughts of a turkey dinner somehow seemed far less appealing than
> a bit of good, honest, suffering with the person I love the most.
Cool. Thanks.
Andy
Melissa
Awesome TR! Your epic sounded harsh yet somehow I was envying your adventure.
It sounded like a pretty amazing experience at least reading it with 10
warm fingers and 10 warm toes.
Melissa
Crotch Robbins
> So are you planning to go back? The best was yet to come!
You bastard! Now we have no choice :-)
Crotch
Chiloe
>
> CROTCH: "Ilona, I don't know what to do here." Though I damn well did
> know what I had to do. Option One was a bad camhook off a camhook, to
> a bathook, to a bad camhook, to the anchors. Either that, or I'd have
> to leave my aiders and mantle from my cliffhanger onto a 1/2" edge,
> then stem up to clip the bolt. The topo called this 5.7 but is sure
> looked harder to me. Ilona, sensing my fear, offered to send up the
> cheater stick and I gladly accepted. A few minutes later, the pitch
> was in the bag and Ilona was cleaning.
>
> ILONA: You gotta love cheater sticks
A sensible, rock-friendly solution. I believe this section went
on poor RURPs, and was called A4, way back in the olden days.
Outstanding TR, one of the year's best.
Geoff Jennings
Geoff
--
Growth for the sake of growth is the ideology of the cancer cell. - Edward
Abbey
"Chiloe" <ich...@hotmail.com> wrote in message
news:1104_10...@netnews.attbi.com...
Crotch Robbins
M> Awesome TR! Your epic sounded harsh yet somehow I was envying your
adventure.
Greg (gre...@x.cliffhanger.y.com.z) wrote:
G>Great report. Nothing like a good epic. I'd love to see the pics.
Funny you both called it an epic. Ilona and I discussed whether this
was an epic as it was happening and then again afterwards.
Ilona's opinion is that if we had slept in the cave and woken up to a
flash flood, then it would have been an epic. The reasoning, was that
it was always pretty clear that we would make it out, as long as
nothing else went wrong. From Ilona's point of view, an epic starts
when something goes wrong that puts your life in imminent risk.
I'm not entirely sure that I agree with her. I think that there are
two classes of epics. Minor epics and major epics. This was a minor
epic in my opinion.
I'm going to scan the pics today, hopefully, I'll feel good enough
about a few of them to post them.
Crotch
colleen
Great TR, thanks,
Colleen
Greg
Crotch Robbins wrote:
> "Melissa" <iamthew...@hotmail.com> wrote:
> M> Awesome TR! Your epic sounded harsh yet somehow I was envying your
> adventure.
>
> Greg (gre...@x.cliffhanger.y.com.z) wrote:
> G>Great report. Nothing like a good epic. I'd love to see the pics.
>
> Funny you both called it an epic. Ilona and I discussed whether this
> was an epic as it was happening and then again afterwards.
It's all relative. I call it an epic if I get back to town so late that the bars
have closed. Spending the night on a ledge, in slush, at freezing temps and
rapping out through waterfalls is definitely life threatening. If you don't move
out of the cold/wet you could die and your propensity for errors goes up as your
temperature goes down. That would be epic for me.
On the other hand, you and Ilona are obviously quite experienced and were
properly equipped. This could be viewed as just one of the unpleasant situations
that you planned for and that was handled relatively smoothly. It was just a
normal climbing day under averse conditions. From that standpoint, it's not
really an epic.
However, when I put myself there mentally, I think: Epic! Your mileage may vary.
Whatever you call it, it was definitely adventure and makes a great story. The
stories where everything goes smoothly are usually pretty boring. It's much more
fun to read about triumph in the face of adversity.
Go luck on your next go at it!
-Greg
Mad Dog
>From Ilona's point of view, an epic starts
>when something goes wrong that puts your life in imminent risk.
>I'm not entirely sure that I agree with her. I think that there are
>two classes of epics. Minor epics and major epics. This was a minor
>epic in my opinion.
The threshold for epic status probably varies widely person to person and within
the evolution of an individual's climbing career. I can't say that I've ever
really been in what I'd consider to be an epic but I've heard other people
classify a few of mine that way. Like when Nick got hit in the head by a
baseball sized rock at mach2 and was bleeding from the ears 2 pitches from the
top of a route we couldn't rap off of. No problem, I just assured him I'd see
that he got groceries before going home (his major concern when he came to) and
learned how to aid since the leading was too hard for my sorry ass. No, that's
not an epic. An epic is when you're in the equivalent of a modern action movie.
You don't narrowly escape death just a time or two - you do it repeatedly in a
variety of unbelievable ways.
Running out of beer on a big wall? Now THAT'S an epic.
Melissa
cro...@pobox.com (Crotch Robbins) wrote:
>Greg (gre...@x.cliffhanger.y.com.z) wrote:
>G>Great report. Nothing like a good epic. I'd love to see the pics.
>
>Funny you both called it an epic....
I guess I consider a climb epic when in goes wrong in a zillion unforseen
and miserable ways...not necessarily life threatening. Just slow and unpleasant.
The bad luck seemed to just keep heaping on you guys....the rain, the phone,
the stuck rope, the flooding cave, the lack of 'real' approach shoes...
Not a full-on send it to Climbing for the epics issue epic, but way worse
(and more memorable!) than your average day or two on a dessert trade route.
Melissa
Andy Gale
Melissa wrote:
> (and more memorable!) than your average day or two on a dessert trade route.
Personally, I've always wondered what makes a route a dessert trade
route. Say, as opposed to an appetizer trade route or an entree trade
route.
;^)
Andy
Mike Garrison
>
> I guess I consider a climb epic when in goes wrong in a zillion unforseen
> and miserable ways...not necessarily life threatening.
Epic is in the eye of the definer. Or the dictionary of the
beholder. Or something like that.
Comedy is when you watch someone trip, fall down a manhole
cover, and drown in sewage. Tragedy is when you stub your
toe.
-Mike
Mike Garrison
>
> Personally, I've always wondered what makes a route a dessert trade
> route. Say, as opposed to an appetizer trade route or an entree trade
> route.
"Dessert trade routes" are those where you can trade your
balaclava for a baklava.
-Mike
Mark Heyman
"Melissa" <iamthew...@hotmail.com> wrote in message
news:3defea39$1...@eCompute.org...
Nice read.
This could have been an epic. I would have called it an epic. Somehow
though, it seems that Crotch and ILona didn't suffer enough and to me it
sounded like great fun overall, despite the cold and wet. I don't think I
want to be on one their epics though!
Thanks for sharing
Mark Heyman
Fredd
> Melissa wrote:
> >
> > I guess I consider a climb epic when in goes wrong in a zillion unforseen
> > and miserable ways...not necessarily life threatening.
>
> Epic is in the eye of the definer. Or the dictionary of the
> beholder. Or something like that.
"We had an epic!" is what I told my SO when I got back to camp
three hours later than promised. Really what we had was a failure
to read the guidebook, which led to three hours spent lost and
looking for a descent route. An epic can also be in the story-
telling of it.
While Ilona and Crotch were climbing, bailing and not-epicing on
a Grade V in a storm, I imagine there were other teams around
Red Rocks hatching their own epics from less promising eggs.
Sunshine McGillicutty
It's the last one of the day.
Except for the Night Cap trade route.
Or, as I've been hanging with some Winnipeggers, it just may
be a breakfast trade route too.
(I hope and pray we never go to war with Canada. We ain't
got a chance!)
DMT
Mark Heyman
"Fredd" <Fr...@volcanomail.com> wrote in message
news:a66f9b5.02120...@posting.google.com...
And they were probably the people getting rescued!