The Nose - Heavy & Slow

Oct 7th was our fifth anniversary. What better way to celebrate it than climbing the Nose on El Cap? 

We had been prepping for this climb for the last few days. Buying 12 $0.79 two-liter bottles of soda for water containers, packing the haul bags, and practicing jugging where all part of the prep. After a casual breakfast we walked to the base of the route, only to see 11 other people on the first three pitches of the climb. We sat down and just watched. Everyone was moving very slowly, so we bailed. 

Plan B, the next morning we got up at 3:30AM and were at the base of the route at 4:30. Most parties climb the first four pitches, to Sickle ledge, then haul their bags to that point from the ground. Then the next day jug those lines and continue. Not wanting to get caught up in the mess of the lower pitches we decided to haul our bags from the first pitch up and just keep going. Those lower pitches were tough hauling. It is lower angle and our "pig" weighted about 120lbs, punishing work. 

After a summer of light and fast climbing we were in for a healthy dose of slow and heavy climbing, or should I say, manual labor. Hauling is just tough work.

We were gunning for Dolt Tower the first day, but did not make it. Thankfully we had a borrowed portaledge with us, so we were able to set it up at a hanging belay below the Dolt Tower. In the middle of the night we were awaken by two guys flying up the route, hooting and hollering as they climbed. They were on their second lap up El Cap for the day! Moving so fast, so light. We looked at them longingly from our ledge.

The next morning the progress got a little faster, the pig got a little lighter, and we made it to the top of the boot flake. I thought this was the best campsite I'd ever camped at. The moon was full, we could see everything in the Valley, it was amazing. 

Day three started out with the King Swing. It was my turn to lead, so Janelle lowered me down about 80 feet to the base of the pendulum. I was nervous. Two other parties were watching, along with everyone in the meadows 1500 feet below. I ran to the left, back to the right, and then sprinted back left, pushing as hard as I could. Slapping for a shallow dish of granite I halted my progress. Had I really made it on my first go? Nope. I was too high. So I swung back, lowered down, and tried again. After several airy swings I stuck it, Success! And I caught it all with my GoPro headcam.

At 1:00PM we got hit by the first sprinkle of rain. Rain was not in the weather forecast. It was forecasted to be clear and sunny for 7 days straight. We trusted that forecast, and therefore did not bring our rain gear, or the fly for the portaledge! Oops. I led another pitch in the spitting rain, and then Janelle took over for the Great Roof pitch. I was pretty damp when she got to the anchor and fixed the rope. I jugged up to Janelle, and we both hung out under the roof, twenty feet to the left of the bolted anchor, hanging in our harnesses and aid ladders. 

We passed the time looking at the poor guys below us getting soaked. The rain should pass and we would keep climbing, I mean this is sunny California right? Well it didn't. So we decided to built an anchor in the micro crack above us and sleep under the roof, the only place on El Cap not getting soaked. Two hours later we had a 9-piece anchor made out of fixed nuts and C3 cams. We were dry, and I had a new favorite campsite of all time. I'm 99% sure that no one else has ever done that, an El Cap first!

Day four and five went by without event. We topped out at noon on the fifth day. We had done it. It was a great feeling. Even better than that feeling is the feeling we had eating pizza post-shower, later that day! That makes 35 classics complete. 

[Please help us reach out fundraising goal, due to end on January 1, 2012 at 11:59PM. Donating will get you some very cool rewards directly from us. And we will be so thankful to be able to keep this journey alive in 2012 with 9 more Classics on the calendar: http://kck.st/u677T4 ]

Back to Bugaboo

[Disclaimer: I have had several major epics in my climbing career that have taught me many valuable lessons. My epic-ing frequency has drastically decreased due to completing several AMGA guide certification programs, and climbing with a female. I empathize with the people I write about below.]

Bugaboo: (mining term) The promise of a motherload that never pans out.

Bugaboo Provincial Park is an alpine climber’s playground. The campground is beautiful, the rock high quality, and the company entertaining.

This was our second time to the Bugs. This sophomore experience was quite a bit different than the previous year. For one, it was about 20 degrees colder.  Second, we only “had” to complete the Bugaboo Spire on our list, which is significantly easier than the Becky-Chouinard on South Howser Tower, so the stress level was low.

That low stress led us to get a late start the day we went for the Bugaboo Spire. We left camp around 8:30AM, crossed a small glacier and scrambled up to the base of the route.

At first glance I knew we were in for it. Four people standing at the bottom of the first pitch of the route. Then I looked up and saw three more climbers on pitches one and two. This was going to be a long day.

The guidebook clearly states, “More people get ‘benighted’ on this [East Ridge of Bugaboo Spire] than all other routes in the area combined.” This is due to the involved traverse from the North to South summit, and then the lengthy descent.

I have climbed plenty of routes with many other parties. So long as everyone moves quickly it is a non-issue, and actually makes the climbing fun because you always have someone to talk to at the belays. Problems arise when you have a faster party behind/under a slower party. That creates a traffic jam. These traffic jams can be resolved easily.  Once the slower party realizes their pace compared to the faster party, they allow the faster party to pass at a belay ledge. It is also the ethical responsibility of the faster party to not be annoying or rude to the slower party.

The two parties on route (2 Ottawans and 3 Texans) were much slower. They started from the Hut at 4:00AM. We started 4.5 hours later and caught them on the first pitch. There were two more parties of two (Salt Lakers and the Squamishers). All told there were 11 climbers.

Normally in that situation you would just pick a different route, but the forecast was not amazing, and this was what we came to do. This is one of the major downsides to having a tick list.  We sat down and started shooting the bull with the Salt Lakers. Meanwhile, the Texans were struggling. They were climbing in a group of three, catapillar style (where you climb one person at a time). The Texans offered to have the Salt Lakers pass them, which was really thoughtful. I wondered if we could pass them too. The route allowed for that as there are many cracks that are not too difficult. What to do what to do.

That’s about the time the Squamishers showed up, guns blastin. (Ill call them S1 and S2).  S1, “Oh maaan, what are you guys doing moving so slow, you’re going to spend the night up here moving like that.” I was shocked. I did not know what to say. And so it went.

The Squamishers tried immediately to pass by climbing some other crack stating, “Well it can’t be harder than 5.12…”  Oh man, this guy was a character. In the meantime the Texans third person was now climbing and the Salt Lakers were right on their heels, as requested. Janelle jumped in right behind them. She built and anchor below the Texans and brought me up. The Squamishers started right behind me. It was the start of an impressive climber train wreck.

I decided to stay below the Texans and traverse to the left of them. If we moved fast enough we could pass them in two short pitches. I moved to their left. Built a quick anchor, brought Janelle across, and started climbing again. This move allowed us to be around them with no problems. That is, until the Squamishers came up, pulling their rope straight through through everyone’s business.

It is difficult to explain here exactly what he had done to create such a mess. Just know that if anyone had slipped, it would have caused several other people to be pulled off as well. It was almost like the opening scene of Vertical Limit, only not as dramatic.

I’ve never told anyone that what they are doing is dangerous, and they need to stop, but S1’s actions had crossed the line in my head. I piped up, “Dude, you need to stop right where you, down climb 15 feet and build an anchor so you don’t kill someone.” From below the Texans shouted “AMEN!” as they were trying to sort out the rope tangle. S1 ignored me, mumbling something about moving faster. I could not believe it. The Salt Lakers were moving quickly, and as soon as possible we moved up to the next belay ledge.

This is where the route enters a 5.6 chimney or a 5.9 hand and finger crack. The Ottawans were struggling with the 5.6 due to the amount of snow choked in the chimney from the storm that passed through a couple days prior. The Salt Lakers headed up the 5.9. We began chatting with the Ottawans, who were eager to have someone else do the snow excavating. I looked down, saw the S1 coming up to the belay ledge, and quickly volunteered for the job.

Pulling snow off hand and footholds is not very much fun, but still way more fun than talking to the jerks. On this terrain we were able to move quickly enough to get ahead of the Salt Lakers as well. From that point on the climbing went smoothly.

The climbing is really diverse and beautiful. The traverse between the two summits is somewhat involved, but amazing in its own right. I would not want to do it in a lightning storm, but who would. By the time we were heading down the clouds were growing dark, so we put it in high gear.  This allowed us to get back to our tent only minutes before the cold rain started to fall.

The Texans, Ottawans, and Squamishers were all still out there. We wished them well, cooked dinner and went to sleep to the sound of rain hitting the tent. I was so glad to be in my shoes and not theirs. At 11:00PM I got out of the tent to answer natures call and saw two little headlamps still descending from the route.  Typical for the Bugaboo Spire.

The following day the Texans got back to the Hut at 2:00PM. They had had an adventure. “Its all part of the Bugaboo experience” they kept saying. Awesome. Even though they had bivyed in the freezing rain, ran out of water, they still had fire in their eyes.

That’s one thing I love about loving the mountains. They can fully slap you around, make you run for mommy with your tale between your legs. Then the next week their allure makes you want more the next day…or maybe the next week.

Devils Thumb via the East Ridge

Only a handful of climbers have set eyes on the Devils Thumb. Even fewer have put their hands on this stone. The weather is notoriously bad there. Some climbers have flown up from the Lower 48, only to sit in Petersburg for 10 days, waiting on clear skies that never came.

Pointing Lulu north, we drove for 2.5 days from Seattle to Prince Rupert, BC where we got on a ferry to travel the rest of the way on the Alaska Marine Highway. At 3:00AM we arrived in Petersburg. The sunlight was already beginning to grow on the eastern horizon, and Devils Thumb was out. It was the start of a bluebird day. At 8:00AM we stopped by the Temsco hanger to see if we could fly that day. The lady in the office called the pilot, Wally, who told us he could go at 2:00PM!

Amped, we went into town for some breakfast and to get geared up. Taking over three spaces in the harbor’s parking lot, we spread out everything and stuffed it into two duffles, two packs and a couple other random bags. The climb would only take one long day. Regardless, we took food to be on the glacier for twelve, which would hopefully be enough to wait out the bad weather, complete the climb, and get out.

The heli flight is a really efficient way to blow 600 bucks in 29 minutes, but it is totally worth it. Like a nature viewing three-ring circus on crack, the varied landscapes flew by. Passing over an inlet, then deep forest, followed by glacier, these views fit the bill for what a Jack London Alaska should be.

After landing we pitched the tent, made dinner and went to bed at 7:00, hoping to get an alpine start the next morning. Around 10:00 that night I woke to sound of rain hitting the tent. Welcome to the Devils Thumb.

For the next three days it rained and snowed. The emotional swing one goes through by sitting still for that long is amazing. After sleeping for 12 hours, you cannot sleep anymore. Thankfully we had cards, an ipod, and books to pass the time. The rain came in waves. We would peek our heads out during the lulls, and getting out only when the call of nature became a scream.

On the fourth day the clouds began to break in the afternoon. Blue sky is so glorious after that long living in a milk jug. This far north the sun is up nearly all day, so we were able to take advantage of the sunshine to dry out everything. Ropes, clothes, sleeping bags, and climbing gear where spread out on top of the tent to let the sun work its magic.

I barely slept that night. In the last three days I had gotten about 30 hours of sleep, and now the stars were out over the Devils Thumb, I was just too excited.

At 1:30AM the alarm went off. An hour later we were walking across the glacier toward the start of the East Ridge. There was a breakable crust layer on the snow, which made for slow going, but I was amped and charged through it to the rock.

The first selection of rock was totally crap. The rock was loose, covered in frost, muddy and downright scary. I had to pick my way up very slowly as to not knock down any rocks on Janelle. When we gained the ridge, and the early morning sunlight hit our faces, things were better. Janelle was not having the best time though. Her pack was heavy, making it hard to climb. The fact that we kept our mountaineering boots on made it even harder. We pushed on, simal-climbing half way up the first tower. When the hand-holds got thin I decided to make an anchor and pitch it out. On top of the first tower we went back to simal-climbing.

The traverse into the base of the second tower is pretty spicy, knife-edged awesomeness. I had the GoPro rolling for the whole thing, so check out the video for a real “description” of that section.

At the base of the second tower we put on our rock shoes for the first time. That made the world of difference. Angling up and climbers left (south) I picked my way though what looked like the path of least resistance. 2.5 pitches got us back to easier terrain. At the gendarme there was rime ice choking the path on the ridge, so we wrapped down 200 feet to the south. This put us on extremely loose rock. To make matters worse the rime ice we were “avoiding” going this way was now directly above us. The hot sun caused several chucks to fall on us. That and we had to climb through a significant section of wet rock from this ice melt.

Once back on the ridge the terrain was straightforward. Back to simla-climbing, we progressed quickly. At this point Janelle was really shaken from everything. It had been harder than 5.6 climbing on loose wet cold mossy rock, with a heavy pack for the majority of the climb. Not a girl’s favorite thing. I was still going strong, but feeling Janelle’s fear more and more as we got higher. On the last pitch of the route, on the summit ridge, she broke down. “I’m done”, she said. She was ready to get off this thing.

I couldn’t believe it. We were literally within 5 minutes from the summit. The Canadian side of the summit ridge was totally covered in snow, more moss, and ice, making it slow going. We had climbed the route, but I wanted to touch the top. I’m a dude. I need that definitive end point where I can brag to everyone that I “did that.” Janelle did not need that. In her mind we were there, the clouds were moving in, and she had had enough.

I shouted down to her that she could stay where she was, and I would un-rope to scramble to the “tippy top” (as we called Columbia Crest on Mt. Rainier). With the response I got, you’d think I just said I was going to cut off her toes with a dull knife. “NOOOOO, please don’t leave me here alone, Mark!”

I had to make a decision. Touch the top by unroping, getting that “I did it” feeling and hurt my marriage, or turn there, join my wife and comfort her. I contemplated the decision for nearly 10 minutes.

Finally, I decided that my marriage is more important than standing on that little chuck of rock, just a little higher than where I was. I built an anchor and rappelled down to Janelle. Her hands were shaking from fear. This climb had really gotten under her skin. I felt bad. I knew she wouldn’t be talked into going higher, so we rigged the rappel and headed down into the cloud that fully blanketing the south side of the mountain.

Ten rappels later we were back on the glacier, and heading to our tent. It was too late for a heli flight out that night, so we cooked dinner and went to sleep. The following morning we woke to clear skies.  At 9:00AM Wally picked us up and at 9:30 we were back to Petersburg. Heli approaches are so cool. I want one for every climb I do.

Will we go back to touch the top of this mountain? Maybe. I'd like to at some point. Its one of the most beautiful places I've ever climbed, at least when it wasn't raining. I would go back to climb a different route, to explore something else I have not seen before.  There is so much untouched rock out there, and just looking out onto the horizon, seeing all the truly jagged mountains, how could you not want to go back.

Did you really call it, "Mudstone"?!?

The overused joke is:
Q: “How can you tell its spring time in the desert?”
A: “Cause all the license plates turn green.”
It’s true, Coloradians flock to the Moab area in Eastern Utah to make their goggle tans fade while biking, rafting, hiking, National Parking, climbing, 4-wheeling, canoeing, and RV-ing.

We had our eyes set on completing #28 of our quest, The Titan via the Finger of Fate route in the Fisher Towers group. At 900 feet tall, the Titan is the largest freestanding sandstone tower in North America. Utah is home to several different types of sandstone, all of which vary in hardness. The majority of the Titan is made of “mudstone”, and as its name implies, it is the softest, and scariest, type of sandstone.

Imagine God taking a big handful of extremely wet mud-infused sand, makes a fist, and lets the sloppy contents drip from His hand, creating this tower. The rock is extremely breakable, unconsolidated and crumbly….and we got to climb 700 feet of this stuff!

Many people aid climb up this route, taking two days to get the job done. I hate jugging ropes, and I do not own any aid climbing equipment. This led to the “decision” to do it in a day, and hopefully have enough gear to get the job done.

The waning gibbous moon was high over our heads, birds were singing, and my heart was pounding as we made our way along the well-beaten path at 5:30AM. The first rays of sun hit the top of the Titan as we came to the base of the route.

Gearing up for the first pitch I was kicking myself for not throwing down the money needed to purchase a set of tri-cams, which were “highly recommended” for the route. They work best for protecting the many piton scars on the route. Instead, I had a triple set of black diamond C4’s, a double set of C3’s, and a set of standard sized stoppers. I call this my “Im scared rack”. Its heavy, but I know I’ll have the gear when I need it…hopefully.

Pitch one was slow. Every hold had to be dusted off, tested for strength, and then committed to with a grimace. As I made my way up, little chunks of rock fell down the route. Janelle had to stand back from the wall to prevent getting pelted. I was placing gear like crazy, every 2-3 feet. I did not know if my gear would hold a fall because the rock was so soft.

Janelle hates jugging lines more than I do, so she decided to French-free as she climbed. The backpack was really heavy, and the first pitch is very vertical. The heavy backpack pulled on her while she climbed, making for a very unpleasant experience. She screamed for me to take up the slack as she desperately grabbed for the next piece, hoping it would not rip out on her as she pulled on it. I have learned over the years that when Janelle gets scared she tends to express that fear by screaming at me. Then I take offense and yell back at her for yelling at me, and then our happy-life-plane goes down in flames.

This time I remembered all those other bad experiences, and decided to learn from them. I encouraged her lovingly. Telling her that she could do it, and how much I agreed with her that the heavy backpack does suck. When she arrived at the belay ledge, I gave her space, then looked at her empathically. It worked! She said she didn’t want to lead any of the pitches, but she would follow. With Janelle back on board mentally, I headed up pitch two.

The A3 crux comes high on the second pitch. This is where I really wanted those tri-cams. With a #2 C4 cam slotted in vertically, with its outside lobes totally tipped out and barely touching the loose mud, I pulled straight down on it, which allowed me to see the next thin seamed crack up and to my right. I tried unsuccessfully to get in several pieces, and finally sunk a thin offset peenut (stopper). Now I had to commit to it. These two pieces looked horrible, and the one below that was not much better. Meaning if I fell, I would probably go about 40 feet! Carefully I pulled on the C4, then shifted my weight to the peenut stopper, and stood up. The next piece was a rusty fixed knifeblade piton that was bent over at its head. By this point I did not have many other options, so I clipped it, yarded on it, and was through the crux.

The rest of the climb was rowdy. Pitons coming half way out of the rock, 1/8^th inch bolts that had been placed 50 years ago, 5 piece anchors connected by sun baked webbing, and a bolt ladder that was missing a lot of bolts. This bolt ladder was placed by the 6 foot 4 inch tall Layton Kor, back in the early 60’s. Standing in the highest rung of my aid slings I was still about 8 inches too short to reach the next drilled piton. After trying every way possible for about 10 minutes, I reached for a double-length sling. Putting on my mental cowboy spurs and wide brimmed hat I took the sling, whipped it around a couple times, then lassoed the piton 5 feet above my head….on the first try! I could not believe it. Amped, I pulled myself up the thin cord, clipped in a quickdraw, and the business was over.

The remainder of the climb went smoothly, and as we topped out dark clouds were on the horizon. Rain + Mudstone = Crumblestone, so we put it in high gear to get back on terra firma.

Back in the parking lot we lounged in Lulu and celebrated our adventure with cold drinks, chips, salsa, and a grand view of that amazing tower. Looking at the tower post climb was a different feeling from looking at it the many other times I had seen it in the past. My eyes could trace each part of the climb. Every aspect of the route now had a tangible feeling associated with it. I had experienced that rock, in a way that only other climbers who have touched the top can look at it. This was an amazing adventure climb.

That evening I told Janelle I would never do that route again. Now that a couple months have past, I would climb the route again in a heartbeat (equipped with tricams of course).

The Big Ditch

Shortly after our pilgrimage to South Lake Tahoe, we had an engine idiot light illuminate on the Lulu's dashboard. Not knowing anything about cars, or how to fix them, we are pretty much at the mercy of the Dodge dealers' prognosis. That led to a rental car and our first (and only) hotel night stay that year. The hotel's bed was not nearly as comfortable, but the long hot shower and hours of mindless TV were pretty nice.

Four days of doing nothing and we were ready to charge again. We picked the van up and headed for Touloume Meadows, on the west side of Yosemite NP. Fairview Dome was in our sites, but the sun was threatening to disappear. We packed quickly, threw in the headlamps, and jogged up the approach trail...at least while camera was recording.

This climb is extremely straightforward. Janelle and I were on a roll, so we were able to blast through the route in a very timely fashion. Getting to the top before we knew it, we were greeted with a spectacular sunset over the Sierras. Making it back to the van a good bit before dark was a real confidence booster. We had just completed a sizable climb in a few hours!

That evening we dropped into the Valley. The Yosemite Valley is where rock climbing in the States was born, has grown, and continues to thrive. The most dangerous part of the experience is standing at the El Capitan observation pull off. This 3000' vertical chunk of geology is mesmerizing. So mesmerizing that all of the drivers are looking at it, opposed the road, so its best to stand clear when taking photos.

There are seven classic climbs representing the Valley, which is not over doing it at all in my opinion. We had climbed two of them during past trips (Royal Arches and Middle Cathedral Rock). These are the easiest of the seven, so we had our work cut out for us this time. We did some warm up climbs and then jumped on the Steck-Salathe Route on Sentinal Rock. It is known for its chimneys. Anyone that has ever climbed a chimney knows very well how fun it isn't to wear a backpack during the experience. We opted to leave the 5 pound camera behind to keep the pack sizes as small as possible. It took an entire day to get up the route. That left the night to get down. At the summit the sun tucked behind the horizon, and we dug to the bottom of the pack to get out the headlamps. Turned out, I had left mine in the car.

Not to worry though, I had brought my cell phone (best piece of first-aid equipment we own). With the dim light of the screen, and Janelle's headlamp, we picked our way around the rocks and scrubs. This descent is pretty gnarly the lower you get. At times, I had to put the phone in my mouth so both hands could grab onto the plant life, which suspended me over the darkness that felt really really steep.

Then, I had a eureka moment...remembering that I had downloaded an app on my phone called, "Flashlight" AMAZING! This app turns on the LED bulbs, used for the camera's flash, there are even three brightness settings! By this new found bright light we made our way back down to the trail, and back to the van.

The 5 day forecast was calling for two days of nice weather and then turning to cold crappy weather. The route on Half Dome is on the North side of the Dome, so it receives very little sunlight. We had climbed plenty of cold rock already, and the thought of doing that for 2000 feet made us motivate to get on it asap.

Janelle had reservations about getting on a wall that size, since we had very little, okay zero, big wall experience. Her thought was to do some practice walls to get our systems dialed before attempting it. My mindset was to figure it out as we go. These two mindsets are similar to oil and water. Being the man in the relationship, I forced my way and the next morning we were heading up hill.

The approach is steep and gruelling, up the "death slabs" of granite. The haul bag was probably 1,000lbs (I didnt weigh it, just an educated guess), and that made it a little harder. Four people were at the base of the route when we arrived, prepping for the following day. We decided to fix ropes up the first two pitches that evening. This gave us something to do, and a jumpstart for the following morning.

The big question on this route is, one day or two? If you climb it in one day you dont have to haul a big pack, but you better be a fast climber. We decided to do it in two days, which meant we had to haul. Hauling sucks. "Figuring it out as you go" is very slow. Having a climbing partner that is not really into it, because she was forced into it, does not help either. After 4 pitches we had lost steam. Each pitch was taking forever. We did the math to see how long it would take to get to the top: Forever X 23 pitches = too long. So we bailed. I was pissed. Janelle was pissed. We did not talk the entire 3 hours it took to get back to the Valley floor. Turns out, I put on my grumpy pants when I fail at an objective.

Next post will be on the Lost Arrow Spire and Round II, 2011 plans.

A Long Walk to Solid Rock

The next morning, after climbing Whitney, we drove up to Bishop, home of the Shat's Bakery, where they make the best bread I've ever tasted. We drifted down each isle ooggolling all the fat filled delights; danishes, huge gooey cinnamon rolls, sourdough bread, hard candies, doughnuts, and much more. $27.58 later we were on their front patio, filling our faces with several wonderful combinations of sugar, flour, yeast, and butter.

By 2:00PM we were still buzzing on the sugar high from breakfast. We went over to the Ranger Station to get the overnight permits and bear canisters needed for Kings Canyon NP. The disenchanted Ranger raised his eyebrow when I told him we were planning to hike the 13 miles to Charlotte Dome that afternoon. No matter, we still had half a dozen doughs, 5 hours of daylight, and motivation to get this route checked off the list.

13 miles is a long approach. Adding to the fun was our heavy overnight packs, and an 11,000 foot pass that we had to hike up and over. I think the trail could have been 7-8 miles, but the trail makers in California really like their switchbacks. The incline is kept at a mere 1% for the majority of the way. When we crested the pass, the sun was on the horizon, and we still had another 7-8 miles to the base of the route. It was a beautiful evening, so we didnt mind hiking until the stars came out. We found a nice place to camp by one of the many alpine lakes, made dinner, and went to sleep under the stars.

Leaving our overnight gear at our campsite, we moved quickly down the remaining 3-4 miles to the base of the route. The trail slowly deteriorated into nothing the closer we got to the dome. Often, we had to reroute to dodge the shrubby "ouchy plants" that grew everywhere (Im a botanist if you couldn't tell). Charlotte Dome gets bigger and bigger the closer you get. It is really impressive. We scrambled across the 20-30 degree granite slabs at its base and made our way to the toe of the 1,300 foot South Face.

4th-classing up the first three pitches brought us to a small ledge where we roped up. The climbing on this Dome is really amazing. Not a loose rock on it, many different features to climb on, from finger cracks, to open chimneys, to rock horns that beg to grabbed hold of, it has it all. And, keeping it at a 5.8 rating (old school 5.7), the pitches go by rather quickly.

Making it to the top in a few hours, we ate our summit sandwiches while we soaked up some warm Californian sun. The descent is a little tricky because you must walk down steep slabs. I can only imagine how high the pucker factor would be if it were wet, or even worse, icy! Thankfully, it was warm and dry as we padded our way down the slabs, back to our bigger packs. Now it was time for a long walk back to the van. When we stopped to pick up our bivy gear we treated our sore toes to a quick soak in the refreshing alpine lake. A billion low angled switchbacks later we were back to the van, and shortly thereafter, in bed. It had been a 17 mile, 1300 feet of climbing, heavy load carrying, 15 hour day.

Next on the list was the Traveler Buttress at Lover's Leap near South Lake Tahoe. This is one of my favorite locations to climb. The campsite is great, the approach is short, and the rock is fantastic.

Traveler Buttress is the name of the classic climb. It shares its start and finish with Corrugation Corner....we did not know this. So we proceeded to climb Corrugation Corner, think it was Traveler! Oops. It wasnt until the top that we looked at our topo a little harder and discovered our mistake. I knew the 5.9 off-width crux felt a little soft...that is because it was a 5.7!

So we went back to the base, ate some lunch at the van, and then went back up to do the actual Traveler Buttress. It too is a great route. You just cant go wrong at Lovers Leap, even if your not on the route you think you're on!

It Takes Nuts to Climb Mt Whitney

California - where the gas is stupid expensive and the alpine climbing is simply off-the-hook good. The High Sierras are home to some prime time routes, of which I’ve only done a handful, so I was excited to get back there.

The drive from CO to CA is a long one, so we broke it up with a stop in Moab, UT to climb sandstone with a couple Crested Butte friends. From there to Mt Whitney we passed the time by listening to a book on the ipod. I just don’t understand why Harry and Hermione don’t get together, they seem perfect for each other.

Wanting to bypass the annoyance of getting an overnight permit we decided to climb the East Face of Whitney in one long day. We had created a routine of reading the chapter in the Fifty Classic Climbs of North America book to pump us up for the climb. Every chapter has an Equipment section at its end. “Chocks work extremely well, and a selection of 6-8 is sufficient.” We decided it would be fun to do this climb old-school style, and heed the author’s recommendation.

That night we tried to sleep at the trailhead, but the constant stream of fellow hikers getting an “alpine start” put a damper on our effort as they excitedly walked by the van. We finally got up at 4:00AM and hit the trail an hour later.

I had been here to climb the East Ridge a few years prior, so finding the way was not a problem. The fire red morning sun kissed the pale cliffs that make up the range as we made our way up the nearly unbroken granite slabs. We were wearing shorts, a privilege one can experience in the alpine environment few other places in the world, so the sun provided a welcome increase in air temp.

As we scrambled up to the base of the route we heard voices….crap. Not that having other people on the route was unexpected, rather it would slow us down and we didn’t really bring enough clothing to spend the night. There was a party of three finishing up the first pitch, and another party of two waiting to begin. We surveyed the scene, dropped our packs, and began shooting the bull with our newly found climbing buddies.

The climbing on the first pitch was pretty chill. That is, if you don’t look down. If you decide to look down, your stomach might drop a little because there is nothing but air for about 1000 feet. As Janelle led the first pitch there were several fixed pitons along the way, so our stoppers (chocks) were not needed. Once across, we passed the first two guys as we simul-climbed the next several hundred feet. We then did a short pitch to get up on the ridge that divides the two faces followed by a scramble down to a big sandy ledge.

That is where we caught up to the party of three. We perched ourselves on a two foot wide ledge and pulled the parking break. Hanging our feet over the abyss we meet our new friends. They were a married couple who were professional photographers from Italy, Dan Patitucci, here to get some photos of their backpacks in action. Awesome! What a perfect job. Their buddy was having trouble with the next part of the route, so I had time to pepper them with 101 questions about their job.

We eventually got going again, but not before seven other climbers were on the route with us! Welcome to California climbing. The next part of the climb was more like scrambling, so we un-roped and cruised up until the terrain got hard again. During that time Janelle started getting quiet. Anytime that happens I know something is up. Roped up now, I led a full 60-meter pitch and made the anchor. By the time Janelle got up to the belay she felt horrible. The ugly hand of altitude sickness was squeezing her head pretty hard. She bit the bullet, took the lead, and charged for the top. As we pulled away from the other climbers we had about 10 minutes of personal alpine experience, that is, until we got to the summit.

There is very little distance from the end of the technical terrain to the true summit. So you pull over the last big boulder and it’s like you are instantly teleported to the Verizon Wireless store the morning that the iphone goes on sale. People are everywhere. Nearly everyone looks at you slack-jawed, wondering where the heck you came from. “How did you get up here?” is the popular question.

Janelle continued to feel like poo-poo, so she lay down to sleep off the headache. I soaked in the victory and yet another spectacular view. Do you realize just how unbelievably beautiful this country is? Amazing.

We joined up with the crew from Italy on the descent, and the 101 questions turned into 404. I really enjoy talking to people who make a successful living “by their own boot-straps” while still pursuing their passions.

Miles later we were back at the van. We soaked our feet in a snow fed stream, ate chips and salsa, busted into some yuppy cane sugar soda from Whole Foods (Janelle is trying to kick my Coke habit for me), and life was good.

What the Heck is a Grepon?

We had made plans to climb the Petit Grepon with a friend, Summer and her friend Julie. Summer joined us for our climb of Castleton Tower and was now back for more fun with the Smileys. Camping in Estes Park is a total nightmare, so the night after our Hallett Peak climb we went into stealth mode in a hotel parking lot.

Climbing Hallett was hardly what the doctor ordered to get rid of Janelle’s head cold. She was still congested the next morning, but hey, the sun was rising in a clear sky, and we had plans to keep. The Safeway donuts were still warm as we returned up the road to the same parking lot as the day before.

The hike in passed quickly, as we had friends to talk to. Its funny how you run out of things to talk about after five months in a van with the same person every waking hour, so the fresh topics were warmly welcomed.

The sky was blue as we approached the base of the climb and tried to figure out where the “real” start was. Often, simply finding the route is one of the hardest parts of these climbs. At the top of pitch one we felt the first raindrops, so we huddled into a small alcove, dawned the rain jackets, and proceeded to have a great time. Fifteen minutes later we were back at it, making our way up this amazing pinnacle. I led Julie and Janelle led Summer. Most of the pitches are pretty interesting, the climbing is varied, and the rock is not too loose. We dubbed Summer “camera girl” for the climb, and that was a real treat. That honkin’ camera takes great photos and video, but man, its heavy.

With a little route finding and a lot of laughs we were at the base of the final pitch, which is also the crux. At 5.7 it’s a pretty stiff 5.7 if you ask me. Maybe I didn’t see or use all the good holds, but it made me work. The 4 pitons you clip through the crux make it feel like you are sport-climbing. Sport-climbing on old pitons that is.

The summit is only about 20 x 10 feet wide. Summer threw a fit as I unroped to stand on the very top. I got a few quick photos and then tied back in to prepare for the descent. Dark clouds were moving over the mountains on the horizon, and we knew they could be carrying a fair share of lighting. Picking up the pace we began our descent.

The topo says, “Look for the hard to find rap anchors.” Well, turns out they were really really hard to find, cause we didn’t. I searched high and low on several ledges with no luck. That’s about the time it started raining.

On a sunny day we might have looked a little longer, but this was a cold rain, and we still had to get four people down at least three more rappels. So tied a cordellete around a small tree, Janelle backed it up I started descending another 200 feet. At the end of the rope I was looking at a fairly sheer wall with only a little alcove to get in. The rain was coming down now and the ropes were wet. The last thing I wanted to do was rap off the ends of my ropes, so with 10 feet of tails left, I pulled them up and tied the ends together. That gave me the confidence to lower further down and get into the alcove. With the winds and rain there was no way to communicate, so I just fed out as much slack as possible so the next person could rappel.

I began constructing another anchor while the girls rappelled. A few rocks came shooting down, but thankfully the wall was overhanging enough that I wouldn’t get hit. I was able to make the next anchor with two nuts side by side, clipped a non-locking biner through both wires and taped the gate shut (this is the poor mans locking carabiner).

Pulling the ropes is always a tense moment. If, when you pull the rope through the anchor that is now 200 feet above you, they get snagged on rocks or trees above it can be a real drag. We were all soaked to the bone at this point, as well as the rock, so climbing back up to retrieve a snagged rope would be grim.

We pulled the ropes, giving a huge rodeo whip right as they began to fall, and lucky the came all the way down to us. Now there was one more 200-foot rappel to get to the gulley below, I sent the girls down first. By the time it was mine turn, I had been standing on this tiny ledge for about an hour. Everything slows way down when you are cold and wet. I reached my shivering right hand back to my hip and unclipped my belay device, pulled up slack in the drenched ropes, and clipped in. One more double check and I started down.

The ropes were so wet at this point that as they ran through my belay device, it rung out the water from the ropes, completely soaking my crotch. That sucked. Nothing you could do about it. No matter how I squirmed in my harness the water just kept flowing, soaking the only dry part of my clothes. After pulling the ropes (with only a small snag), I waddled over to where the girls were trying to get out of the rain. Their efforts were unsuccessful.

The hike out warmed us up, and by the time we got back to the car we were laughing again. A dash of grandpa’s cough medicine and we were warm on the inside too.

Driving out of the Park our conversation was chalk-full of what we were going to eat, war stories of the day, and laughter. That is, until we saw flashing lights coming up fast on us. Busted. Apparently, Summer had not been playing within her lines, and the cop (surprising nice) wanted to make sure we weren’t some dirty hippie hawked up on booze and happy smoke. He thought we were high cause of all the laughing we were doing, but we assured him that we are about as square as they come, and he sent us on our way with a couple recommendations for dinner.

Adventure Climbing

We had been climbing for five months straight. After reading countless route descriptions and trip reports for all these climbs we were kinda over it. People spraying about how scary the crux was, or how run-out the 5.7 section is, or the most popular one; how the guidebook was so wrong that the author must be an idiot or something!

On routes that intimidate me I do my homework by making laminated printouts of the description, taking more gear then they call for, and making sure it’s all ready to go the night before the climb. After climbing in Alaska and Canada, Hallett Peak is not intimidating. I don’t write this out of arrogance, but rather to justify our procrastination. The morning of the climb, while driving to Rocky Mountain NP from a friend's house in Ft Collins, I surfed through summitpost.com and mountainproject.com on my Smartphone, hastily looking for last minute route info. That is, until the nauseous feeling took over from looking at that stupid little screen while on a curvy road.

Arriving at the trailhead parking lot we went to work. After doing this numerous times we had the dance down pat. Janelle preps food in the front of the van while I prep gear in the back. Then I take the mostly full packs to Janelle who then tops them off with the food and water. We button up the van, and are off.

I figured we would just take a standard adventure climbing** rack:

-BD cams

-#00-#3, double of #.4-#3

-light set of nuts (approx. 8)

-6 quickdraws

-7 runners w/ a biner each

-3 lockers each

-ATC guide each

-one double length sling each

-one shared “cordellete”

-rescue gear (one prussik, one tibloc, small knife, bail biner)

-shoes, harness, helmet, chalk-bag

-5 pound SLR camera, extra card, charged battery
-headlamps

-Sterling 9.2 rope

-3 liters of water total

**adventure climbing: not knowing what you are getting yourself into due to poor preparation and planning. Hoping that you will have the minerals to pull it off.



We chatted with the rangers, glanced at the map at the trailhead (rounding out our route planning), and headed up the trail towards Bear Lake. The miles passed quickly with light packs and a relatively flat trail. Getting up to the base of the route, it was evident where the rock fall happened a few years ago. It wiped out the bottom two pitches of the climb, which severely downgrades the route's appeal. We roped up to the right (uphill) of the rock fall area. Looking up, there wasn’t a clear line or any visible initiators of previous climbers, at least not visible from the ground. To make matters worse, the clouds to the west were getting darker. Do we stay or do we go? “We have come this far, why not just finish it.” was my thought. Janelle was hesitant, but put me on belay anyway.

I tied in and “adventure climbed” (see above) up the first pitch. One hundred feet off the ground we felt the first drops of rain. Janelle wasn’t into it. Not wanting to be on an unestablished route (in the rain, on the cold shady side of a rock face) she suggested we come back another day. I yelled down, "maybe it'll just blow over." I hate bailing. I hate it more than being wet and cold. But reluctantly, grumpily, I made a quick anchor and rappelled to the ground.

Current Situational Equation: Janelle hates to epic + Mark hates bailing = Mark turns into a spoiled 2nd grader and puts on his grumpy pants and makes Janelle feel like a failure. I really wanted to get the route done that day. “Summit or plummet baby!”

Bailing turned out to be a good call because only an hour after we bailed the thunderstorm unleashed a cold blowing rain. It would have really sucked to be on the face at that time.

My brother was getting married in Indiana and our flight left Denver the next day, so this climb would have to wait. "But what if even more of the route crumbles while we are gone?", I half-jokingly kidded Janelle. The wedding was a great rest from the mountains. Hanging out with friends and family and answering the much-asked question, “Why do you climb mountains anyway?” and “Your videos scare me, you be careful up there!”

One week later, with my brother on his honeymoon and a lot of concerned relatives telling me that we are in their prayers (for which we are thankful), we flew back to Colorado.

Things were going better during round two. We picked up where we left off. After traversing quite a bit to get back on the original route, it was smooth sailing from there. Aside from the fact that Janelle had picked up a yuk-bug in the Hoosier land making her nose a non-stop leaky faucet, and taking her normally superhuman strength down to a mere mortal level. So I was the “rope-gun” for the route (I led every pitch), which was fine as I truly enjoy guiding people up climbs.

Reaching the top of the route allowed us to get the full view of the pervasive forest fire smoke we had been smelling, and even tasting, since returning to Colorado. It was eerie knowing that through all the smoke people were loosing everything they own to the wild fires. “70 homes burnt!” the headlines read. Although I was thrilled to have another route under our belt, it was sobering to think about the people that had lost all their material possessions. It made me think about just how insignificant climbing really is….

…but it is still so freakin’ fun, I can’t wait to get my hands on rock again!

The Grand Boob

In the Lakota language "Teton" means "breast". So from now on you will have to cock your head to the side, raise an eyebrow, and grimace like a 7th grader when someone asks you, "Have you seen the grand tetons yet?"

The Grand is the only mountain on the fifty classic climbs list that is graced with three "classic" routes up its flanks. There is no doubt this area is rich with history and this mountain is the crowning gem in the string of peaks that make up this amazing range. Some may think it is deserving of three classic routes, maybe even more. I am not one of those people.

We have yet to climb the North Ridge (which I hear is great), but after climbing the Direct Exum Ridge and the North Face I have to say that the North Face needs to be "Plutoed", aka demoted, from Steck & Roper's list.

It should be an automatic disqualification of classic status when one is required to climb up a 60 foot chimney where every inch is plastered with bat and bird crap! Thats right, its called the "guano chimney". Thankfully it was fairly dry when we were there, keeping the smell and slime factor relatively low.

The start of the route requires you to be in the blast zone. Rocks wiz down around you from over a thousand feet above. Helmet or not, if one of those catch you, it would be a closed-casket funeral for sure. There is also a slab pitch up higher. You clip the rope to a 40 year old angled piton, then climb diagonal and up for 40 feet across a slime covered slab that is wet from the perpetually melting snow patch above. So if you do slip near the top you are going for a tumbling, cheese-grating 80 footer.

Aside from that its a great route. Seriously though, climbing the North Face of the Grand is a great adventure. Similar, Im sure, to running an ultra marathon. No body likes actually running 100 miles in one day, but its cool to say you did it afterwards. The North Face is the same thing, only nobody really cares. Cause if the person you are bragging to has done the route they say, "why did you do that? didn't you read the route description?" If they have not done the route then they have no idea what your talking about and therefore no "cool points" are awarded.

The Direct Exum on the other hand is the North Face's polar opposite, both in aspect and quality. It is amazing from bottom to top. Great adventure climbing due to the many cracks you have to choose from, all leading eventually to the top. Its so cool. A must do. My recommendation is to avoid the Lower Saddle camping location and opt for the Petzoldt Caves. It does add an hour or two to your summit day, but then you dont have to carry your heavy backpack as far, and it is a lot less windy, complete with a natural spring 30 yards from the caves. Of course you do have to be okay with mice and chipmunks as roommates, but they are friendly, and don't snore.

The final tip for those of you that have your sights on the Grand is talk to the Exum guides for current conditions, beta, etc. Without exception these guys, and girls, are really nice, helpful, and very accomplished climbers.

We left after a 10 days in the area due to quickly deteriorating forecast. We will have to come back for the North Ridge, which Im excited about. Hopefully link it up with the Grand Traverse (climbing all the peaks in the range in one looong push). Before leaving we also climbed the Direct South Buttress of Mt Moran, which is next.....