[TR] The Monument - Smith Rock - Abraxas 11/4/2011

[KirkW]

Trip: The Monument - Smith Rock - Abraxas

 

Date: 11/4/2011

 

Trip Report:

For those of you not taken to reading long boring trip reports, full of gratuitous beta and long run on sentences sandwiched between mediocre photos, you should consider yourself warned. The gist of it is… I climbed Abraxas on the Monument at Smith Rock a weekend or two ago with JustinP and Luvshaker. We had a swell time. It’s a great route. If you do it you should take a bunch of number 2’s and a long cheater stick. That would about sum it up. Oh, and, it was cold. Sorry if I’ve already ruined your onsite attempt.

 

If, on the other hand, you’re at work or you’ve nothing better to do, then by all means top off your coffee or tea, if that’s your thing, and check out the short book I accidentally wrote about what we did the weekend before last.

 

I’m not sure when or where I heard about Abraxas for the first time, but I do remember the first time I saw it. JustinP and I were standing at the base of the Monument with a pair of binoculars trying to count the bolts. It didn’t look that bad. Perhaps the rumors of nightmare rock and ancient hardware were enhanced a bit over the tellings? But, damn, that’s a really big wall. I hadn’t even free climbed the Monkey yet and considered myself to be pretty solid up to about 5.5b. To be honest, it looked a little stout to me. So we decided why not. Next fall if the weather cooperates and my balls finally drop, sure, let’s do it. Justin would do the mandatory free pitches and I’d take an aid pitch here or there, I figured. With enough daylight, I was absolutely sure we could maybe get up it.

 

 

 

My confidence was buoyed some months later when Luvshaker told me he’d love to have a go at this route and that yes indeed, the first weekend in November would work for him. I was now fairly confident that I could weasel out of leading a single pitch and just spend a nice day with my ass parked in belay. Dodging rocks while wrapped in a down jacket is a perfectly fine way to spend a Saturday.

 

Lee had to work on Friday, but Justin has one of those cushy government jobs, and since I work for myself, we decided we’d head over on Thursday night to spend a casual Friday cragging. We’d launch on Abraxas early Saturday morning. The idea was put forth that perhaps with the short days we should consider fixing to Tombstone, if we could get there, and finish it on Saturday when Lee could join us. We all agreed this was a grand idea and Justin and I pointed it East after work.

 

A little over 12 hours later, I awoke to the coldest temps I’ve felt since last winter and a WTF are we doing attitude. A cup of coffee and the 113th re reading of Watts description woke me up a bit and we both agreed that my shit talking NOAA’s predicted low of 19 the prior evening was most certainly the cause of the wicked cold temps we were experiencing. Cragging that morning was not high on our list and I considered making another press of coffee but the sun was out so we decided we’d just get on with it.

 

 

We took our time getting out of the parking lot and moseyed on down into the canyon. By the time we arrived at the base, the temps had risen to a pleasant level, and the sun was barely being harassed by the occasional cloud. I was into my harness all ready and cramming candy bars and fruit leather into my cargo pockets when Justin informed me that we “might” have a problem. He couldn’t find his rock shoes and he would have to go back to the van to get them. I wasn’t any more excited about this idea than he was, but not really seeing any other option I figured I’d just chill and try to take a nap while he made another lap up and down the canyon. Just as I think he’s about ready to take off, he looks at me and says, “or if you wanted to save me the hike, you could take the first pitch”? I look at him and then try not to look at the wall looming above us. Before I have time to think about it I hear myself say “sure, why not?” Then I realize he means both pitches 1 and 2, since we had been planning on linking them. Ok. Sure. Why not?

 

 

After a bit of gear shuffling, I’m racked up, tied in and we’re off to the races. The first few minutes of the climb are going well, but then I get to the second bolt. This is supposed to be a 5.8 I (mistakenly) think to myself as I start slapping around for a hand hold. Then I remember that this is an aid climb for us and decide that I should feel no shame in grabbing a draw. I grab it, feeling shame anyway, but get through the trouble and the rope keeps going up. Several days later, I arrive at the first belay ledge and realize my troubles have only just started as I eye the massive flake crack that is my next destination, and the sea of crumbling tuft between me and it.

 

The bolts look solid, though, so I get after it. With just a minor bit of draw tugging, I find myself at the flake crack sinking a locker fist jam. From here I enjoy the solid jams and jugs up to the hand traverse, easily finding good gear along the way. Feeling braver now, I fat man flop onto a small block and take a breather while I eye the traverse. I convince myself that I’m not in way over my head and work my way out a few feet and again find relatively good gear. A slightly balancey move across, get a foot up and I’m at the anchors feeling like a hero and hauling rope.

 

 

 

 

Moments later, Justin yells climbing and, in his approach shoes, hauling all the extra gear, styles through and joins me at the belay. Not being one to dick around at a belay or waste time taking pictures of his own shadow, he dumps the pack, grabs what I didn’t use off the rack and tears into the second pitch.

 

 

Our stick clip soon comes in handy and he makes excellent time up to a slight bulge. I can’t see what’s around the bulge but I know it must be “interesting” as the rope doesn’t move up for quite a while.

 

 

Soon enough, he’s through it and the rope moves steadily upward until I hear off belay and he’s taking rope. I jug to his belay, thankful that he ended up with that pitch. The mandatory free section after the small bulge reminds me of water damaged horse hair plaster and I wonder to myself if I would have been able to get through it without a trowel?

 

 

Justin seems a bit adrenalized from the last pitch…

 

 

…and I get ready to bite into pitch 3 knowing that some actual aid climbing lies ahead of me as well as more mandatory free.

 

 

The sun has decided to hide for a while and this prompts me into action as we both suddenly remember how cold it was the night before. It becomes immediately apparent that my aspirations of hooking through the spans between bolts would be nothing more than a futile exercise in practicing aid falls, so out comes the cheater stick and I begin working my way up the bolt line finding an occasional gear placement as well as a couple of unexpected but easy free moves.

 

 

A green/yellow offset alien makes life a lot easier just below the last bulge and a couple of smaller offset brass pieces get me through the worst of it.

 

 

I make a free-ish move after the bulge, which brings me to a small ledge littered with several, museum quality ¼ inchers, but nothing resembling a belay and only one bolt that I would consider falling on. The rock it is set in does not inspire confidence, but it looks solid enough. I happily clip the shiny thing and work my way up to the top step of my aider and begin looking for something to pull myself up with onto the next ledge. Seeing nothing but more rotting, turn of the century plaster, and me still without my trowel, I finally look straight up and to my relief realize that I’m only 15 ft below the start of the Tombstone wall.

 

 

All that is left is for me work my way up the low angle pile of construction debris and I’d have the anchors. Looking around, I begin tapping blocks that seem to be embedded into the crumbling wall covering and find a decent sized one that might be slightly more secure than the others. My left hand finds a crimp that gives the impression that it will hold, if only momentarily, and before I loose my courage, I yell down to Justin that I’m going to free.

 

 

 

I disconnect from my etrier, leaving it hanging on the bolt with the draw. I move my right foot up high, to a small edge, and commit to the shaky jug. It holds long enough for me to transfer nearly all of my weight onto my right foot but not quite long enough to find purchase with my left. I feel the bowling ball size chunk disengage from the Monument so I let go and wildly start slapping with my right hand. Finding nothing and desperately seeking something solid, I suffer a short relapse of Catholicism and start praying that my right foot doesn’t blow. My prayers go unanswered and I too disengage from the monument and find myself hanging on the rope nearly upside down a couple of feet below the last step of my still clipped off aider. I let Justin know that I’m fine and batman the rope to my aider and am soon back at my previous highpoint but without the benefit of the jug.

 

Really not wanting to go for another ride, I decide this time to step right to what looks like worse rock but easier terrain. I find a nice stance and spend a moment or two deciding whether or not I’m still an agnostic. I decide that if there is a god, she hates me, and standing here in a pile of kitty litter and broken concrete pretending to look for gear is not going to change that or get me to the anchors any quicker. I make the simple moves without further incident, fix the rope to the anchor directly below the crack and step left to a shiny anchor in the corner. A bit shaken but really no worse for the wear I decide to entertain myself by taking pictures of my own shadow.

 

 

Soon Justin appears over the bulge and jugs his way towards the belay. Marveling at the rock quality, he again inquires if I’m all right. The shakes didn’t show up until after the rope was fixed and I was clipped off at the belay. They seem to be diminishing somewhat so I tell him they’ll pass in a minute and I’m good to go. It dawns on us that we’re at the Tombstone crack and that tomorrow we’re going to have to actually try to climb the damn thing. Staring up at it from the comfort of the belay I mention to Justin that it doesn’t look that bad but perhaps might be a little small at the start for my dough boy mits. We knew that the crux was low but from my current optimistic view point I actually became convinced for a second that I could free it. I’d get my chance soon enough.

 

 

We rap our fixed lines, leaving a few draws between the anchors. The ever safety conscious Justin becomes a big fan of Gorilla tape as he discovers its benefits over duct tape as an edge protector. Only the summit of the Monument is still catching sun as we touch down on flat ground and we are reminded that it is November after all.

 

 

It’s getting cold all ready so we toss our gear in our packs and head for the van. I can’t stop jabbering and I keep replaying the events of the day to Justin as if he hadn’t been there. He plays along and lets me talk.

 

 

I keep looking over my shoulder as I flap my jaw and I find myself stopping to gawk every once in a while.

 

 

The sun is nearly gone by the time we get back to the parking lot so Justin listens to me talk some more while our cold blooded home on wheels converts dead dinosaurs to heat and slowly brings itself to life for us. After a brief stop at the Thriftway so that I can find myself a chicken like substance from the deli or at least something injected with cheese and deep fried, we find a spot to park the van. It’s not quite so cold tonight but I’m still glad I brought the down bag. After a couple of beverages neither of us has any trouble falling asleep. We’re both rustling around in our sleeping bags eager for the day to start as the sun attempts to rise the following morning. We try to convince each other that it’s not that cold but I can’t argue with my frozen water bottle so I beat on it instead. Eventually I manage to produce what I call coffee but I can tell Justin’s not impressed.

 

Lee meets us in the parking lot a few minutes before 9:00. We sort out the rack and head down into the canyon. We all pretend that it’s not below freezing and that the flakes of precip that are floating down out of the sky aren’t snow but there’s no getting around the fact that it’s cold. Still trying his best to ignore this fact, Lee warms up by running a few solo TR laps up the first pitch. Warmed by the 3rd or 4th lap he decides he’s ready and TR solos to the end of the first fixed line.

 

 

I jump on the line next but am content to jug to our high point. I make decent time up the fixed lines and am thoroughly enjoying myself as I look up to see a grenade sized rock whizzing past Lee. He doesn’t appear to see it and as I jerk my head to the right in what I think is going to be a feeble attempt at dodging the falling missile I feel it graze the shell layer I have tied up around my waste. Before I have time to yell rock I hear Justin say, “hey, watch out, you’re gonna kill someone”. “Seriously” I mutter and continue pushing my jug up the rope knowing that there’s probably several more tons of that stuff above us just waiting for a flick of the rope or a gentle nudge to dislodge it from its very temporary position on the face of the Monument.

 

 

Eventually we all find ourselves at the belay. It still feels below freezing and although I’m sweating like Ron Jeremy at a high school dance, I doubt that Lee has gotten nearly as worked as I did on the jug and must be cooling down by now. I flake the rope out and prepare to give him a catch while he steadies himself for the task ahead and tries to stretch out his by now frozen muscles.

 

 

With a quick request directed to his maker and a harness full of little other than yellow and blue he makes his way up the short slab and sinks his fingers into the Tombstone wall.

 

 

 

Although it doesn’t look like he’s going to pop off anytime soon I can tell by how fast he’s moving that the crack is much harder than it looked to me the day before. I can always jug, I think to myself as Lee proclaims “wow, it’s thin!” “Perfect!” I say, mentally reminding myself what happened the last time I tried to climb thin hands and off fingers.

 

Justin is undeterred by Lee’s statements and is all ready chomping at the bit to get his paws into some crack.

 

 

To my surprise I hear Lee say “watch me, I might fall here”. I find out later that, at this point, he could no longer feel his fingers and had no idea if he was jamming hard enough to hold on. His worries turn out to be unfounded and he is soon over the first little bulge and finds a good rest allowing him to shake out and thaw his fingers one hand at a time.

 

 

 

He easily dispatches the difficulties at the small roof and disappears from our view. The rope starts running out much quicker and it’s obvious that he’s on easier ground now. A few more minutes pass as I pay out rope and soon we hear a victory yell followed by an announcement that he’s off belay.

 

Justin is up next and he’s ready to go. Towing a rope for me he launches into it and nearly makes it through what I’m guessing is the crux of the route.

 

 

 

Unfortunately he’s unable to hold on and off he comes. After a couple more attempts he’s through it and cruising the upper splitter cleaning most of the gear but leaving a piece or two for me to yard on if I can’t manage to free it. Soon I hear that I’m on belay and it’s my turn. I work my way up through the face moves at the start stepping on an archaic bolt along the way just because I can. I have no pride at this point. I just want to get up it. I make my way up to the bolt at the base of the crack and clean the draw that Justin has clipped my rope back into. Eyeing the crack again, and with the benefit of having just watched two people climb it right in front of me, I decide that my best course of action is to go balls out for the #1 Camalot that Justin has kindly left behind for me. I envision myself grabbing that cam. The vision is so vivid I convince myself that I can do it.

 

I get into the crack and it is indeed thin. I’m barely holding on, but not coming off, so I focus on getting to that red cam several feet above me. I’m a couple of moves higher than Justin’s first hang and if I can pull one more move I’ll be yarding on that sucker and resting on my daisy. As I let go of one ringlock to try and grab another my feet decide that they’ve had enough and would like a break. I’m airborne, but the fall is pleasant. With the benefit of the stretch from my soft catch aid line that I’m following on I find myself hanging far below my crux move with a bolt once again in my face. Without giving myself a chance to rest, I go after it again. This time screaming take at the top of my lungs, as if yelling louder will allow whoever’s belaying me to magically take the stretch out of my rope.

 

I fall. Then I fall again. I decide to rest and see if I can get feeling back in my hands. Once again I try and fail. And again. This goes on for a bit longer before I admit to myself that right here, right now, today, I’m not gonna free this section. I’ve got my jug out and on the line before it occurs to me that my system of one ascender and a gri gri is a bit difficult to get onto the rope without a bit of slack in the system. After a moment of panic I remember that there are about 15 different solutions to my problem and tell myself to sack up and get on with using one of them. Sliding my ascender as high as I can, I clip off to it with my adjustable daisy and yard myself up tight. This allows enough slack to get the gri gri on the rope with just enough left to loop back over my pulley. I jug to just below the small roof and clip into a piece. I holler take and feed the slack rope back out my gri gri until the rope is close to tight again.

 

Hanging on a #2 under the mini roof just out of sight of Justin and Lee, I sink my hands into the crack finding the size here much more to my liking. I beller “climbing”, clean the #2 and pull over the bulge. The angle relents and I enjoy the solid but sharp jams as I find locker hand after locker hand all the way to the anchor.

 

 

 

I arrive at the belay feeling wasted and somewhat disappointed with my performance, but generally ecstatic that we’re all at the anchors at the top of Tombstone.

 

 

My end of the rope is on top so Lee offers me the last pitch. At first I decline thinking that I’ve had enough of the sharp end on Abraxas, but then recant my statement and agree that it makes sense for me to take it. I grab a few pieces of gear and start up the rotten ramp wondering just how bad the rock will be on this last pitch.

 

 

 

I clip an ancient fixed pin many feet off the belay as my first piece and decide to equalize it with a shaky nut. Neither of them look any better than the rock they are in but the climbing’s easy and I keep working up the ramp. Justin and Lee are both shouting encouragement and soon I’m ass deep in a crumbling chimney many more feet above my mini anchor and I’m screaming that Watts is a sand bagging son of a bitch.

 

I find the hold I’m looking for and thrutch my way out of my unnecessary off width shenanigans. I find a bit more gear between me and the summit but the rock never really gets much better until near the very top. After a small step across a gap, I wander up to the summit and find two studs still looking solid in the rock but lacking hangers. The only other bolts I can see are down the opposite side of the summit block and are obviously not meant for belaying from. The all ready disgusting rope drag I’ve got will be impossible to deal with even if the rope reaches that far.

 

I walk back over the summit and find a crack that looks pretty good and takes the three medium sized cams I’ve got left on my harness. I equalize them with a couple of slings, tie in tight and take the best stance I can get. I’m not in love with the belay but it’ll do. I take the slack and let whoever is next know that they’re on belay. Within minutes Justin appears and hands me the line Lee is on. Justin works his way across the summit block and down the other side to the pair of bolts I spied earlier. After getting Lee on belay I ask Justin what the walk off looks like.

 

He says “Well if duder and his dogs can get up here it can’t be that bad.” I look over to see who he’s talking about and suddenly hear someone yell my name. Turns out my buddy Mike was in the park, sadly with no one to climb with, and saw us up on the wall. He remembered hearing me claim that I was going to try Abraxas sometime around this weekend and guessing that it was us, he snapped a few pictures and hustled up the trail to meet us on the back side offering post climb treats and assistance with carrying ropes!

 

In another few minutes Lee pops up around the dirty corner at the end of the ramp and calmly informs me, through a big sarcastic grin, that he thinks the last pitch should be rated at least 5.4b. “Easy climbing but not much gear” he says. Lee and Watts would get along I think.

 

We down climb the “4th class” chimney, change our shoes and make plans to meet back up with Mike later before we plunge down the scree filled gully back to our packs. At this point I’ve had enough climbing for the day but Lee and Justin are both aspiring hardmen and after a brief respite decide to check out some obscure one star trad route on Big Ben. We wander over to the base and I decide after eyeing the short 10 something finger crack that my ego has had enough abuse for today and I opt to lie in the grass and raise the nicotine level in my system to a proper level. They both get up it and decide they’ve had their fill. Back to the Thriftway for more fried chicken and then to find a place to camp.

 

That night we enjoy a couple of beverages around a decent campfire and make plans for Sunday. Everyone is in their bag early and I lie there for some time wondering if I’m the only one that feels like they’ve been hit by a train. I fall asleep thinking about being gripped on Karate crack, as that seems to be on my tick list for the following day, and wake up early to the sound of rain. We get out of our bags and start moving around but I’m not moving fast. As I’m stumbling around camp waiting for water to boil I notice that someone had discarded a used needle into the sage brush just a scant 10 yards from our van. What luck, I think to myself, as I consider freebasing a couple dozen ibuprofen. Before I’m able to get the spoon hot enough I notice that it’s beginning to snow. No. Not beginning to snow. It’s snowing.

 

We give it a little while longer to break, as I down coffee and chain smoke in a vain attempt to make myself feel like going aid climbing. It fails to motivate us and Lee announces that he’s calling it and is gonna head for the valley.

 

Justin and I pack it up but decide to take a drive back to the park “just in case” it’s better over there. It’s not.

 

 

I convince Justin to drive down to the Northern point because I want one last look at the Monument.

 

 

I get it and we turn the van around heading back to the valley and security of the women that tolerate us.

 

 

I think we all agree that Abraxas was a fine adventure and a worthy endeavor for those that are not deterred by a bit of loose rock. It will never clean up completely but it protects well enough to call it safe-ish and the position, exposure and climbing on the Tombstone pitch are rivaled by nothing I’ve climbed at Smith. When I consider that this route has been freed from bottom to top, I’m humbled and find it necessary to point out that without the benefit of a significant amount of beta, strong partners and a long cheater stick, this route was a little out of my league. We all got through it though and had a helluva good time doing it. I’m sure I’ll be back up there again with cheater stick and aiders as well as aspirations of sinking that red Camalot so someone else can try to hang on it.

 

 

 

 

Gear Notes:

Single set of cams to #3 camalot with offset aliens for the smaller sizes.

BD nuts

Offset nuts from #3 DMM brass to #11 DMM

Two 60 meter ropes

As many hand sized pieces as your ego will allow you to carry for Tombstone.

 

Approach Notes:

Walk over there.

[kevbone]

Nice.

[billcoe]

Bravo gentlemen! GREAT TR! WOOT! Thanks man, that's some 5.14d writing there Kirk.

[ivan]

fork. yeah.

 

i'm looking forward to having my shot at the tombstone crack as well after my last chicken-out

 

'least yer cheater-stick didnt' break mid-pitch!

[stevetimetravlr]

I see Justin has been up to his old tricks! Good send guys and in freezing temps, brrrr.

[fredrogers]

Great TR and fun read. Thanks.

[HerbalTee]

I think I have a picture of you guys climbing. I was one of the leaders of the group that was doing basic anchor building at the North Point.

[KirkW]

I think I have a picture of you guys climbing. I was one of the leaders of the group that was doing basic anchor building at the North Point.

 

Awesome! Yup, that's us. You guys must have been freezing your nether regions off down in the shade of the Northern Point! I kept looking over there and feeling bad for you guys. Ain't Smith awesome when there's hardly anyone there?

[JoeR]

Way to get some stoke guys, and nicely written TR/storytime Kirk.

 

Part of me wishes I had come along but then I get the shivering sweats thinking about "water-damaged horse hair plaster".

 

Given your affinity for swimming crumbling sand dunes in lesser traveled areas of the park, comments about poor rock quality take on a whole new meaning.

[JasonG]

Bravo! One of the better written TRs I've seen in awhile- entertaining, exciting, and engaging. Thanks.

[luvshaker]

Kirk-Dub!

Man what a perfect time if year to write a sweet TR! There is nothing happening except maybe some Bend Bouldering, and you can't even find any info in THAT!!! But seriously, You guys definately have the stones leading the first two pitches of that beautiful petrified mud.

 

"Finding nothing and desperately seeking something solid, I suffer a short relapse of Catholicism and start praying that my right foot doesn’t blow. My prayers go unanswered and I too disengage from the monument and find myself hanging on the rope nearly upside down a couple of feet below the last step of my still clipped off aider."

 

Whatever doesn't kill you makes you......???

[KirkW]

 

Whatever doesn't kill you makes you......???

 

Want to climb the Picnic Lunch wall!

 

 

 

[beaconben]

Right on guys!! Another Monument ascent. Way to get it done. Have fun on Picnic Lunch

[JRay]

 

Whatever doesn't kill you makes you......???

 

Want to climb the Picnic Lunch wall!

 

 

 

.......... HAHA