Leaderboard

Squire Creek Wall in November, 2011 The South Face, November 2011 After discovering that this South side of the mighty Squire Creek Wall is divided into several big low-angled buttresses, we still wanted to climb there. After all, how many people had even seen this wall close up, much less climbed on it? The question became, "Which buttress to climb here?". Of course we knew that Zippy had climbed the beautiful Primal Scream buttress. Does that feature have any other name? Who knows? All we knew is that there are acres of lovely white granite, waiting, enduring geologic time and its changes. With snow lapping up against a broad swath of climbable rock, it seemed we could start anywhere. I was amazed to be seeing this, and willing to start anywhere. At first, looking over from the approach trail in the bottom of the valley, it seemed it would be very difficult to get there. Dense brush to the creek crossing, steep forest, unseen terrain above all made it foreboding. Which was just right, I wanted to work hard for this. Previously, I was amused by Greyell's remark that while he was toiling long hours slogging up to the Illusion Wall, we were having it easy on the very nearest end on Slab Daddy and Oso Rodeo. Short approaches! Easy living! This big wall slab stuff is too serene! Well, enough of that. If we wanted to go up on the South Face of this beast, we were going to sweat hard for it. Early probes on skis and snowshoes, Otto in April DavidW skiing up in April Trillium by the roadside The beginning of the bike approach era, on May 19th Once we started approching by bikes, we didn't go without them. The hardware evolved; mine grew a rack and David's lost his, mine grew flat pedals and his grew flat bars Early season's challenging runoff With ski missions in April, snowshoe and boot approaches in May and June, and then bike-assisted approaches later, we bit into this work with repetitious zeal. Every free day was tested - weather any good? partner lined up? days off work approved? special gear needed? - this project was an ever present topic of daydream and worry. We pushed up the wooded hill over and over, flagging a boot track to a new high point for eight trips into July. Unable to find load-carrying helpers, my non-climbing friend Bill Camp went along once for company but no others were able to come through. There was only Whitelaw for the work, and for the company. Into the old growth forest Some approach details About the work David's worries were constant. Battling sore shoulder and ankle, he was often on the verge of giving out or giving up. "I'm gonna hurl!", was his catchphrase as we loaded up from a rest stop more than once. He said he wanted to give up once or twice. I didn't give that credence, knowing his work-hardened frame to be stronger than his head, and we stumbled on. As for the company, there couldn't be better as I knew from other days working with David on the North end of the wall. One time as we thrashed up through the brush, he burst out in a tune with the lyrics, "Stickin' it to the weak!" - which became the jingle of the weekend. His stories about fools who came into the shop where he works demanding refunds for equipment used for years, and tackling jacket thieves trying their escape, kept my mind off the miles trudging up the road. Good trips were kept even more lively with his invention of snow Margaritas at Happy Hour, and the Espresso Cauldron in the mornings. We talked about how we could get 20-something dudes to help bring up the gear to base, happy to take part in a grand project. David said having them along to carry our gear would be "better than robots!" The South Face buttresses in May Near the base of the route, but long before climbing, in June We finally got on the rock on July 7th, my father's birthday, and we knew it was all laid out before us, good times ahead. With snow lapping up against the sloping wall, I had no idea where to begin so David checked it out and decreed that we would go way out to the left and up the easiest looking dirty corners, putting in temporary piton anchors, and swing back into the line a couple of pitches up. So that's just what I did, leading off into the dirty unknown festooned with hammer and pins, full rack and drills, ready for anything but knowing we weren't putting in the "real" pitches. Much later in the year we pulled out the two sets of piton anchors I placed here. This day, I got us over to the route's real line, at the eventual anchor atop Pitch 2. After drilling the bolt anchor, we agreed to rap-bolt the first two pitches, ho hum. When we finally got on rappel, however, I declared I wanted to do Pitch 2 drilling on lead, perplexing David who said, "I don't know what the fook is goin on", or something like that. Was I some kind of ethics prima donna, or what? Well whaddayaknow, a disagreement. Absolutely, I wanted to do every pitch ground up, drilling on lead, on sight, all that good stuff. David agreed, so that's what we did. I led the eventual Pitch 2, placing three bolts, having found about five gear placements, and got to the huge knob in the middle of the white slab. I drilled the hole there, but found I didn't have a bolt. I stuck the drill in the hole, clipped a quickdraw to it, and ran up to the anchor using the brushy edges for security! 4x and gear to 3 1/2". Our first look at Pitch 4, when we realized we had found the line Higher up on Pitch 4, getting ready to drill above the overlap We got better at the communications and planning, and things smoothed out. David has such a clear vision of the true line, we kept on course and left plenty of room to the right and left for future projects. The wavy "brown knobs" on the right were a constant source of wonder between Pitches 5 and 10, and there is plenty of smoother whiteness out to the left. We moved steadily up, doing two or three new pitches each two- or three-day trip, while leaving fixed ropes up as high as the anchors of Pitch 7. Skeena26 in the center Flowers on the way to the base in August Every trip we were hauling up a load without the dreamed-of porters. Finally we got Yale Lewis on board for some hauling and camera help. We got better pictures hanging off to the side on the fixed ropes. We even got some video of leading through the lower established pitches. Too bad there is no way to capture on-sight leading with a neckful of pro and drills, hammer banging your hip, smearing up to the good knob to get the bolt in after a long run. This is the real stuff, why I am doing this after 25 years of cruising the classic routes, someone else's work, all their decisions and worry gone into the distant past. Looking over our pictures now are attempts to keep that feeling fresh, to revisit this time. May it never fail to surprise and twinge the heart with that intense racing feeling of going for broke. Yes, these slabs are low angle and moderate in difficulty. But they are just steep enough to keep in mind the question - what if I went higher without stopping to drill, misjudged where the next stance was, and there was none? We finally got some help in August; Yale Lewis hanging out on Pitch 8 David preparing Pitch 11. The route ends at the large white snag above There is more clean rock around the place In September the snow at the base had finally melted off, and David found the excellent Pitch 1 Finding and building this route made for a fully absorbing season. It should be a pleasant, moderate, full day of climbing for anyone. photos by David Whitelaw, Bill Enger and Yale Lewis