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

Bishop to Moab Epic

Yesterday morning I returned to the Buttermilks with the intention of speedily dispatching my project. This did not happen, it was cold, I felt dejected by the cruel way the problem spurned my attentions. In addition to this everything possible was hurting, my knee did its twisty pain thing whilst I was toe hooking and my elbow hurt as well as the pains mentioned previously.

I decided that enough was enough, I said my goodbyes to the two lads I had been climbing with for a couple of days and headed in search of "Cat Man" who had lent me his guide. (he is the guy with a bouldering cat called Tuxido that lives in his car) I found his car by the Happy boulders so left the guide and some beer in the car guarded by Tux. I then headed east (at about 1pm) thinking:

a. I will go a new way to see more of the states
b. How far can it be, I've driven from Kent to Skye without stopping before, I'll be grand.

I have attached a map showing the route I took and ALL the things I saw. Please note, that is all there was.

Tonopah was nowhere. It was clearly on the junction of roads between nowhere-special, nowhere-else and nowhere-happening. The remains of its industrial heritage was imprinted clearly on the landscape, spoil, mine trimmings, abandoned cars and mechanical equipment surrounded the area. Within this outer rim, this encasing layer of degradation lay a second layer of slightly more recent economic failure. Motels without windows, Motels without cars in the lots and debatable viability competed with Motels with no roofs. Within this lay the core. Burger King and a new looking motel, I blinked and it was gone. I passed a stock car ring and a sign informing me of no gas for 168 miles and it was gone.

As I headed eastward and upwards it gently began to snow, the sign said no gas for 168 miles and it actually meant nothing at all for 168 miles. It is a really barren landscape with nothing there, no vegetation, cliffs or buildings, just rubble hills and mountains with one or two mail boxes at the end of side tracks indicating possible people off the horizon.

Learning how to put on snow chains was an experience, the darkness, driving snow and wind conspired against me somewhat. It got sorted in the end however. The second time was easier although I was fundamentally unsure about when snow chains should be used, how fast one should drive in them and when they should be removed. The van ended up caked in ice and it was all a great adventure.

Bishop

I have now been in Bishop for five days, boulder problems have been worked, some sent, others still require effort. Some other stuff has been explored also.



The Buttermilks

The Buttermilk Stem

Buttermilks

Buttermilks

The Ice Caves at the Sad Boulders

Owen Gorge

Old hydro plant in Owens Gorge

Old hydro plant in Owens Gorge

Old hydro plant in Owens Gorge

Buttermilks bivy spot

Death Valley

I overindulged at the bar at the Red Rocks Rendezvous as I was not climbing the following day.

Death Valley

I combined the poor decision making skills of a hangover with the drive to bishop and decided to drive via death valley. To further compound my mistake I took negligible amounts of food.

The Van in Death Valley

Early on in the drive I got lost and ended up in end-of-the-road-vill. The paved road ended at a cluster of saloons and brothels. Mangy dogs circled and a few bikers stared from their beers. This set the tone.

U-turning out of there I eventually I headed down from 927m above sea level to the stuperfying heat of a salt flat at 86m below sea level. Upon getting down there I realised that I felt terrible and was hungry and had no food. I headed across the huge wastes and then drove up and out without any traumas aside from having to have the heating on full to ensure the van did not overheat.

I pushed on to the next small town where I went shopping for food, I was intending to stop shortly after to cook. The road suddenly turned into a freeway and I was so hungry and indecisive that I was unable to stop.

Another similar deathly valley and dried lake bed

Eventually I managed to leave the road and park up. I then had to search for my lighter for about 20 min before finding it and realising the next issue. I had purchased tinned food and I have no tin opener. After great effort the tin was opened with a nut key and the pasta cooked and eaten.

Looking back from the pass

Eventually I got to Bishop and everything since then has felt much better.