New Mexico

The inclement weather drove us south from The Black Canyon to New Mexico.

The Enchanted Tower

View from the camping at dusk

We headed to The Enchanted Tower to climb on steep volcanic tuff in the sun.

Henry sending yet another 5.12c

Part of the VLA

On our way back to Santa Fe we passed by the Very Large Array.

The VLA

Colorado Welcome Party

North Chasm View Wall - Colorado Welcome Party climbs directly up the middle of the right hand buttress crossing the two Pegmatite bands near the top of the wall.

Feeling slightly let down by the lack of fear experienced on The Scenic Cruse, we decided to climb Colorado Welcome Party. Blasting directly up the right hand side of North Chasm View Wall which looked a little more spicy. It also seemed a little less travelled; nobody we spoke to had climbed it and it had a reputation for providing interest.

As it was only fiveish pitches long a leisurely start saw us on the starting ledges trying to ascertain the line. The photo topo clearly showed the route starting to the left of a prominent thin Pegmatite band whilst the only fixed gear visible was to its right. After an hour or so traversing back and forth we convinced ourselfs we were in the correct place. Henry won (or possibly lost) the toss and led the first pitch.

Hard face climbing past three widely spaced bolts deposited him below a long run out to a unprotected mantle onto a ledge. The insitu copperhead protecting this move long gone. As Henry attained the ledge and clipped the next bolt he called down,

"thank god for all those evenings soloing at Stanage, I knew they would come in handy one day."

More face climbing and further poor gear led to a ledge and belay. Encumbered by the bag, shoes, water and spare clothing I struggled to follow. Swinging leads, I headed upwards, climbing steep ground on dubious holds to an overhang. Just as things might have appeared worrying a shiny peg beckoned and some laybacking saw me through a roof.

I had agreed to climb the third pitch also, it had the dreaded R attached to the grade. After bringing Henry up I continued, lacing a thin seam with small gear and then pulling through the first of two Pegmatite bands. After aranging a cluster of poor runners (equalised of course) I ran it out ten meters to a loose flake and in-situ wire before crossing the second Pegmatite band and slowly coming to a halt on an slab. Further holds beckoned above but the drop called out from below equally convincingly. I shuffled my weight around on two sloping footholds, eyeing the rope drooping off backwards towards the wires stuffed unconvincingly behind the loose flake.

The view upstream from North Chasm View Wall

I attempt a low line towards the promised holds, fingers brush them, grasping but with my body hideously out off balance I pull back and retreat towards the rest. Reversing proves trickier still and it is with much elation that the good sloping footholds are reached.

A high crimp is discovered and a mantelshelf effected onto my handholds, an attempt is then made at smearing sideways. Self preservation stops me committing to the sloping features and I retreat to examine other options.

Further views up the Black

Half an hour later and ten meters to my left, easy but unprotected climbing takes me up to a belay consisting of a flared cam placement, a micro cam, and a size one wire. I call down the words

"On belay, please don't fall off"

After this pitch the remainder of the route flew by. Well all except the last three meters of offwidth I found to gain the rim.

The Black Canyon

We arrived in the Black knowing three things:

Firstly we would be stung to death by the poison ivy in the horrific decent gullies. It takes little imagination to work out what the SOB gully could stand for.

Secondly we knew that should we made it to the base of the routes, then the run out scary climbing up tottering rock, cut through with Pegmatite bands, would be terminal.

Thirdly, upon the unlikely attainment of the canyon rim again, we would slowly be eaten by the myriads of ticks that would have hitched a ride on our bodys.

In short I was expecting Crag Doris stacked on top of itself 16 times rising out of enormous patch of stinging nettles. (the ticks are in there somewhere) The reality was somewhat different.

It is like being in some enormous mountains, at 830 meters high the cliffs dwarf most height gain on British mountains. That is 100 meters bigger than the height gain from Idwal Cottage to the top of Carnedd Dafyidd and all vertical. From a climbing point of view it gets better, one starts at the top, walks and abseils down a gully to the base and the climbs out. The routes top out on the flat and right by the camp site. It involves no uphill walking at all.

We started out with some warm ups and then sent the mega classic route, The Scenic Cruse. This is the popular variation on The Cruse with all the offwidth taken out! This basically involved a days worth of fantastic climbing up solid well protected rock, the "scary traverse" pitch the americans banged on about seemed a mellow rest compared to all the sustained crack climbing below. Attaining the canyon rim within sight of the warm beer (too cheep to purchase a cooler) was an added bonus.

We both became convinced we had spotted poison ivy, our candidate plants differed. Adamant I was correct and Henry wrong I offered to rub "his" poison ivy plant in my face if he would do the same with mine. Later we met a guide who cleared up our difference, we were both wrong.

In short, no ticks, no poison ivy and no loose holds.

The Crackhouse

I took Henry to the Crackhouse to dispel his jet lag. Nothing shifts sleep deficiency like 25 meters of roofcrack jamming.

Perfect Hands all the Way - North Six Shooter - Indian Creek

The west aspect of North Six Shooter

I arrived back to the Creek Pasture camping from my rest day in Moab to be greeted by a dubious plan from Ben. He had just returned from climbing the North Six Shooter by the Lightening Bolt Cracks. Whilst there he had spied a possible new line on the west face, branching out of the existing offwidth route on that face, halfway up the first pitch. I was quickly enlisted for an attempt the following day.

Ben posing in the sun prior to the climb

A leisurely start (we were only doing one route after all) got us to the base of the face by midday. I then racked up and launched up the relatively steep, but easy first pitch. I was soon at the hanging belay, dangling off some bombproof cams, eyeing the bolts and ledges of the adjacent routes belay with envy.

Dave leading the first pitch

Ben soon joined me and led through, establishing himself in the squeeze chimney, and then launching onwards and upwards into the "ringlocks" (a crack bigger than fingers but too small to hand jam). Strenuous climbing led him through a bulge to sandy face holds and a hand jam sized pod and good gear. Here he hesitated, upwards momentum stuttered as he hopefully caressed unlikely looking features. Eventually he committed to the moves and moved up, sidepulling creaking flakes and edges. The inevitable happened and he exploded backwards into space in a shower of debris from the now non-existent fragile holds.

Hanging on the rope a few meters lower he commented that we now knew which holds not to use.

Ben in the chimney

A second attempt was more successful and Ben moved upwards and became partially obscured by the bulge. Floating down from above I heard phrases such as, "Its no good" & "arghh that's terrible" as he moved onwards. The rope intermittently moved out as he negotiated the unknown ground above. Eventually, blind cracks above necessitated a desperate traverse right towards "good holds", "less steep rock", & "salvation". I cowered on the belay, attempting to make myself small beneath my helmet as rocks cascaded down. I could see Ben run it out to a hopeful looking crack, where he then frantically attempted to place gear whilst one hold after another disintegrated under his weight.

Calling up to enquire as to the quality of the gear resulted in obscenities I'm not going to repeat.

After a moment for composure upward progress was resumed, further optimistic gear was placed (and pulled on) and the summit ledges reached.

Ben passing the bulge

I followed, feeling slightly shocked by the difficulty of the moves upwards, and was soon at the last good runner before the traverse. After a good shake out I removed the protection and crimped sideways on tiny sandy holds. Brushing them only made them sandier. Hard moves led a highly optimistic yellow alien and a poor rest. Moving up from this the holds collapsed underneath me and I was off, hanging on a cluster of small cams and wires. I also pulled hard on these pieces to gain the ledge above, casually flicking them free of the rock from above.

Easy ground led to the summit where we posed for photos.

Ben & Dave on the summit

We thought an appropriate name for the route was, "Perfect Hands all the Way" as this was the phrase Jim had been sandbagging us with all week. There was that good hand jam at half height after all!

We climbed the route with a couple of falls and a pull on some gear at about 5.11+ C2 R and I believe it would probably go free at E6 6b. (just to mix grades).

All in all tottering horror show worthy of a place on the Llyn.

The west face of the North Six Shooter. The existing route climbs the continuous wide crack to the left of the face whilst the route we climbed ascended the middle set of discontinuous cracks before heading diagonally rightwards to the ledges at the top right of the face.

Standing Rock - Monument Basin - Canyonlands

Standing Rock

Yesterday I again dropped down from the Islands In The Sky Canyonlands Overlook to Monument Basin. The objective this time was Standing Rock.

Dave leading pitch 1

Dave leading the second half of pitch 2

Standing Rock (aka The Totem Pole) is a slender 107 meter high tower composed of Cutler sandstone. The route up it goes at 5.11c with a long section of slightly sketchy climbing up a crack followed by a short face climbing section protected by (replacements for) the old aid climbing bolts. After this a simple scramble up crumbling unprotected rock leads to the summit.

On the top

Dave & Nick on the top

I climbed with Nick (from Alaska) & Vincent (from France but now living in Denver) and led all off the pitches enjoying the exposure and good climbing. Running out of gear on the second pitch resulted in an uncomfortable hanging belay made more uncomfortable by there being three of us dangering together. The crux moves seemed quite hard involving poor holds and a heel hook.

Dave abbing off

The walk out seemed less horrific than the time before, possibly as sharing the gear between three of us resulted in lighter bags.

Vincent abbing off

A fantastic route.

Uranium Mines

Today I decided to try to find an old abandoned Uranium mine. I regretfully found the correct track and set up off it for a few miles, it was a bit dodgy but not too bad until I abruptly turned a corner and discovered that the "hardcore" ended and I was stuck in mud. I attempted to go forwards to no avail, I attempted backwards with no more success. I drained the puddle/large pool which accompanied the mud by clearing a drainage channel with a stick and put floor mats and twigs and branches under my wheels which also achieved nothing at all. Eventually I realised that I was hung up on my axles and going nowhere. Further efforts were making it worse as I sunk deeper into the mire. I abandoned my van and headed back to the road.

Upon arriving at the road I made a sign that read,

VAN STUCK
TOW PLEASE

Equipped with my sign I started walking in the direction of Old La Sal (two sheds & a three legged dog) about 6 miles away and eventually Moab 40 miles beyond that. As the occasional person drove past without stopping, perhaps one every 15 minutes, I pondered upon how the layer of mud I gained whilst attempting to single-handedly dig the van free may not be helping matters now. After about an hour Jimmy stopped and asked what the problem was, Jimmy was driving a beaten up old pickup which was a good sign from the start. He said he was willing to help after I explained the problem but he had no rope. I was ready for this, the moment had arrived to retire my old 11mm sports rope. I had been looking for this excuse for years, it weighed a ton, jammed up everyone belay plates and I never felt confident using it, having vomited all over it in Targason but was reluctant to retire it when it still (possibly) had life in it.

I jumped into his truck and we headed back up the road and then off up the track. He was graciously non critical of my idiocy in pushing on in a two wheel drive van and positioned his truck whilst I scrabbled around in the water and mud attaching the tripled over rope. When all was ready I sat in the van and he pulled me out without too much hassle, by stopping spinning my wheels when I had made life easier. I offered him beer as thanks & met him at the liqueur store in Moab to deliver on my pledge.

Good times