West of Zekes, East of Monroe

[Peter_Puget]

*****Lame writing warning*****

A TR from last Saturday.....

 

Fed up with winter a friend and I decided to try our luck at climbing last weekend. Both fat and lame from injuries we thought we’d avoid the snow by visiting some non-granite crags just north of highway #2. We ended up at the base of an old route I had often wondered about. The start was an arching crack through an overhang protected by two ancient angles. Above that the route was pretty much out of sight which, erroneously as it turns out, suggested to us that it would be low angle romp. I tied in and started up the crack. Before I knew it I had clipped the pins and was turning the roof. (5.9? to jugs)

 

Above the roof there was a nice stance from which I was able to scope out the rest of the route. The crack ended and turned in to a flared groove. After about 50’ the groove steepened and was capped by a bulge which obscured the remainder of the route. When starting the route we figured we would climb it “free as free can be – for us.” After all we were climbing in a rainstorm with occasional flurries of snow. Now that the route was no longer protected by an overhang everything was running with water. I looked around for some pro and was ready to whip out the aiders. I could find nothing that would work and considered abandoning the route but the thought of reversing the free moves with wet shoes seemed more risky than climbing up a bit more where pro looked plentiful. I climbed up a bit higher but still could not find protection. A bit higher seemed more promising. By now I was about 40’ up off a very hard landing and getting a bit freaked about not being able to find any good protection. Luckily the climbing remained moderate but it was still wet and cold. Surely, I thought a few more moves and I’ll find a good crack. The wind was picking up and my partner must have been wondering what was taking so long and why the hell I wasn’t moving. I could barely make out a ratty piece of purple webbing stuck to the side of the groove. I figured there must be something there but it was hard to make out details through my foggy glasses. A few easy moves and I was there. Fuck! The webbing was attached to a beat in RURP that was rusted as hell. The webbing itself looked to have been driven into the rock. By now I was beginning to panic thinking I was going to have to down climb the entire route – something I wasn’t sure I could do. I stood there looking at the webbing wishing I had brought along a hammer and some pins - after all is wet weather climbing any different than mixed climbing up a free route? After what felt like an eternity I decided to press on to where the groove steepened and was somewhat dry below the bulge at its top. Luckily there was a rest there and at the very back I discovered the remains of an old 3” bong. It looked as though half the pin was missing but I thought I might be able to thread a piece of webbing through on of the lightening holes. I began to pick away at the dirt and moss encrusting the pin and to my dismay found that the pin had been beaten to hell. There was no way I could thread anything through it. By now I was getting really cold and about 70’ up a fall was out of the question. Continuing up seemed like suicide; however, climbing down seemed like a long shot too. The only reasonable course of action seemed to be untying and having my partner find a way to the top and then rap down to rescue me. The rope at this time was providing me with absolutely zero protection but the thought of dropping the rope turned my stomach. Finally I saw a tiny irregularity that might hold a sling. I reached out and sure enough a piece of 1” webbing appeared to be somewhat secure with a downward pull. The edge it was on was smaller than the width of the runner.

 

My partner by this time was standing away from the cliff offering words of encouragement. I told him my plan and begged him for a smooth lower. I thought of down climbing but without constant tension the sling would have slipped off and the route angled so far to the left that any tension while down climbing would have pulled it off. After weighing the options I decided a straight ahead lower seemed the most reasonable way to proceed. I am sure the lower took only a few seconds but it seemed like forever. While being lowered I could only think of what a stupid idiot I was. After untying my partner pulled the rope and as soon as the rope pulled through the sling and carabiner went sailing into the trees. We hurriedly packed our gear and walked back to our car.

 

Back at the car we cracked a beer and listened to rain. The only thing I could think to say was “sometimes I hate climbing.”

 

[chucK]

 

Wow! Scary. Thanks for the writeup.

 

[Dechristo]

have your adrenals recovered yet?

[lancegranite]

Nice write up!

Sometimes you get enough adventure in seventy feet to last a lifetime.