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SammyLee2
Trad climber
Memphis, TN
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Topic Author's Original Post - Mar 19, 2008 - 09:16pm PT
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Ted and I arrived at Denver airport about midmorning on Saturday, got our rental car and headed for Turkey Rocks asap. We drove through the aftermath of the Hayman fire on paved roads then wandered around some truly shitty dirt roads in a Plymouth PT cruiser looking for the campground, which we discovered had been closed for some time. We camped up near the rock with both Turkey Perch and Turkey Rock pinnacles in view.
After setting up our site we hiked up the trail to Turkey Perch to find a dozen or so mostly local climbers hitting the popular routes. Ted led one and I followed the crack to the top. After walking down (no anchors) we heard thunder and Pikes Peak looked socked in. Prudence indicated that we bail and cook some supper, which we did.
I decided that I wanted to sleep under the stars and drug the air mattress out of the tent and crawled into my cheap Sam’s Club Swiss something or the other sleeping bag. After A couple of glasses of wine, I was headed for dreamland for sure. About 4 am I woke freezing my ass off. I curled up like a dog and finished the night. When I woke, it was still dark and looking up at the stars I saw a huge, beautiful shooting star. Kinda make it worthwhile.
On Sunday, we cooked breakfast and hiked back up the hill to hit a 3 or 4 pitch route called “Midnight Madness” an old school 5.8 crack climb.
Somehow we got off route far to the right into some 5.10 zone. At the belay ledge on the fourth pitch with a scary as sh#t off width with and no pro between us and topout, we decided to rap off.
We set up webbing on a chock stone and rapped down to some chains. We were climbing double ropes and the knot was on blue so we pulled blue. No go. I down climbed to the left to get directly under the webbing and stuck a couple of cams in to secure myself. I put blue in my reverso, hitched up the slack and squatted down. I had rope stretch but no purple going up. Hitch up the slack, squat down again and purple goes up 6 inches. Again and again, hitch up and squat. Finally purple is going up. When I get to the point of being able to pull with my hands I go like hell. “ROPE!” I yell and blue starts down with me yarding like a demon. SNAG goes blue. I look at Ted like my last dog just died.
I asked him if he wants to come down and give it a try. He says, “No, you’re doing all that can be done.” I pull smoothly on blue but no go. I pull hard on blue and no go. I hitch up blue and no go. Finally, blue is taking all my weight and nothing is happening. We have the top end of purple and the bottom of blue and it’s starting to get dark and the clouds over Pikes are becoming ominous. What do you want do partner?
Ted (who owns the rope) says “Let’s untie them, single rope rap off this and come back tomorrow from the top and retrieve it.” Cool with me. I am tired and ready for some supper.
We cooked supper and hit the sack. At 1 am, a loud party starts to crank up, down the side of the mountain. Blues Traveler is ok, just not at that time of the morning. A huge bonfire is visible next to a blue redneck truck. Ted gets up and lays on the horn of the PT Cruiser. No change in the volume of Blues Traveler. Not to mention the yelling and stupid laughter. “Ha, Ha, Ha, that guy was scared of me! Ha, Ha, Ha. I was bad-assed, for sure! Ha, Ha, Ha!” Jackasses. I put my earplugs in and went back to sleep. According to Ted, they kept it up until 2:30 or so.
On Monday, we broke camp in the morning, gathering minimal gear to retrieve the rope and hiked/scrambled back up. We made our way to the top where we thought the rope would be under us and built an anchor. Ted rapped down and to our surprise, the rope was within reach. He retrieved it and stuffed it into his backpack. He climbed back up with me belaying him. (Ted is the much senior climber of this partnership)
About the time he got back to the top, it started lightning and thundering, close. Flash | Bang! kinda stuff. Ted coiled the belay rope over his neck and we started the very dangerous scramble down. It started raining. Then it started sleeting. Icy, wet rock with lighting. Damn I was scared. I was moving fast to get off the top.
When we got into the trees, I felt much relief. We got to the car and hit the road on the way to Moab.
We made it as far a Grand Junction, where the mountains are tall but bare. Kinda weird. Onward to Moab the next morning.
We got there too late to climb our target, Castleton Tower so we took the touron trip to Arches National Park, which was cool as hell to me. I loved the color and texture of the rock there.
Some of that looked climbable but not by me. (I learned that a 5.9 sport route at home is lot’s different from an onsite 5.9 trad route a thousand miles away from home. Not ready for the Big Leagues, am I). We got a room at Motel 6 and hit the sack.
On Wednesday, we got to the base parking lot of Castleton Tower and started up. What a hike! Holy Sh#t, Two hours of up, up, up, up, with pea gravel on hard rock. A death fall awaits a slip and I sh#t you not.
The desert flowers were astounding, the rock amazing. But daaaamn, that approach was Dante’s second level of hell. Every time I looked up at the tower, it got more and more impressive and oppressive. In my gut, dread crawled around like a snake curling in acid. To be honest, I was afraid.
We finally got to the base and started to gear up. Another party of two was above us on the North Chimney route. I was sort of glad we had a few minutes to gather ourselves.
Ted started up the fairly hard start (IMO). He did pretty well for most of the route until he got to the crux, a bulging, slightly overhanging crack. I was watching him like a hawk, managing two ropes.
The views from the base of the tower were something from another world. Except that I could see rain in the Southeast and it looked like it was coming our way. The Rectory and the Priests were in the sun. Ted got kinda pumped at the crux but made it to the ratty webbing at the end of the first pitch. After a few minutes he called down, “On belay!” “Climbing!” I yelled back. The snake coiled in an acid bath.
If style points were being awarded, I’d be in the negative. I actually pulled on gear at the crux. Ted saw me and said, “Wait! Let me get the camera!” I told him if he took a picture, I’d jump off this hunk of rock. Actually, most of the crack was ok. In many places it was a double crack, allowing one to kind of “monkey” up, swinging side to side. Of course, I was on top rope. We felt the first drops of rain. I am thinking of the hike down. Pea gravel on hard wet rock and a foot slip means a death fall.
Ted asked me what I wanted to do. My gut had enough of the snake and I told him that with the rain and as pumped as I was, I wanted to bail. He said that he thought the rain was just passing and we should be ok, but if I wanted to end it, then ok. I said that I wanted to end it. (chicken shitted for sure, I admit. But this whole thing was just over my head) The webbing at the anchor was old rat sh#t in an American Death Triangle and Ted said that at least, we ought to replace it. We build a natural anchor, tied in and replaced the webbing with two loops of fresh webbing, independent loops at that.
I was on the outside, so I rapped first. Ted was at the base in a minute or two. The party above us was back on the base and we chatted a bit. They were from Durango and had to work that night. Damn, the strength of youth. They were about twenty, maybe.
It had taken us two hours to get from the car to the base and it took almost that long to get back down to the car. We had to put our asses on the ground in places to avoid the pea gravel on hard rock-death fall sections.
As Ted had predicted, the rain had stopped and it was completely dry. We were fortunate that on Wednesday, it was cool as hell, not hot as hell as would be usual. On the way down, we enjoyed the view, with the wildflowers in bloom and strange bugs (one looked like a bee, but acted like a spider) and just the wild assed red rock valley. If you’ve never seen it, you should and that’s a big understatement.
When we got back to the car, safe and sound, I again felt a huge sense of relief. Damn, what’s up with that? I had a few beers stuffed in the trunk of the car and I drank them down, warm and all. Ted drove us out of the canyon at light speed on our way to Eldorado Canyon. It was a surreal hour. Fisher Tower, the tallest free standing tower in the US, on our right, the walls of the canyon with thousands of routes on our left. Geez.
That night, I had a big steak dinner, a reward for my courage. Well, at least I had a big steak dinner.
We arrived at Eldorado Canyon about noon. By the time we started up our target, Lumpy Ridge, it’s nearly 2 pm. The first pitch kicked me pretty hard. There was fixed pro at the crux, which I didn’t realize and spent way too much energy trying to free. I did manage to get over the hump there and work my way up to the first belay.
The next pitch is just an easy traverse to a tree and I was feeling pretty good. Ted started up the third pitch with ease. (Although we both were a bit sore from previous days) I had him on belay, out of sight for what seemed like forever. Rope in, rope out, rope in, rope out. Finally, “SAM! BELAY OFF!” Geez, thank you. “Sam! Your Belay Is On!” Up I went on easy ground. When I got the belay, Ted told me he had gotten off route on the super easy ground and had had to down climb back onto the route. The fourth and final pitch was not hard, but airy for sure. When I topped out, Ted said, “All business now, seconds matter, we’re running out of time. Look about, tell me what you think about the way down, and let’s decide, now.” Geez, Ted had never spoken to me like that. I was a little taken aback but I understood what he was saying. I looked around and said, “Ted, I think rapping into the notch, then to the tree is the best bet.” He said ok and that I should go first. I did and he followed quickly.
Once into the notch, we looked for rap anchors with the sun descending, maybe sixty minutes to dark. No anchors visible. Ted said we should just go to the tree, that we had plenty of rope with the doubles we had. And off we went. At the ledge and tree, I began to pull. No go. Damn. Hitch up, squat down. No go. Damnation. I took all the slack I could and no go. After about ten tries as hard as I could, Ted said that he would prusik back up the rope and free it. No time to spare, let’s go. I tried to help as much as I could but I’m afraid I was not much help.
Ted got back to about thirty feet from the top anchor and began to free the rope. After a short bit, he rapped back down to the ledge and began the process of hitching and squatting. I asked him to let me step over and help. We swapped places and I began to pull the rope with it inching up a squat at a time. When the rope was nearly at the anchor I asked if there was anything I could do to keep it from snagging again, he said to whip it out at the last second. Dusk approached.
With rubber arms I yelled “ROPE!” and whipped with all my might. The rope cleared the summit and fell to our ledge, loops falling in my face. The end was fifty feet above, curled near a bush. I gently pulled and it snaked its way down to us. When both ends were at my feet I felt something I’ve not felt in a long while. You know what that is.
The rest of the rap down was uneventful, thank God. It was dark when we had feet on the ground. We still had a one hour scramble/trail down to the car. Looking out to the road, it seemed to be thousands of feet below us, but by God, I was going to the car, come Hell or High Water. With head lamps and flashlights, we made our way down, down and down. It was around nine thirty when we got to the car and wondered if the Mounties were looking for us. I figured this kind of thing must happen often in El Canyon.
We jumped into the car and took off to the gate. It was closed. Oh sh#t. Conversations with the man ahead. As we pulled up to the gate, it opened! Whoo Hoo! Hell Yeah! On our way to a hotel in Denver. We climbed to the last minute of our trip.
All in all, it was a great experience for this relative noob. I’ve been climbing for less than two years and I have to acknowledge that I am fifty two years old. I was over my head most of the time. If it were not for the experience of my partner Ted, none of this would have been possible for me. If anything, I learned that I just need to climb more. Oh what an awful fate.
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swill
Social climber
Colorado
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Mar 19, 2008 - 09:31pm PT
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What a fun trip. Envious.
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wildone
climber
Where you want to be
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Mar 19, 2008 - 09:48pm PT
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Great tr-great trip. Thanks for sharing!
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labrat
Trad climber
Nevada
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Mar 19, 2008 - 10:09pm PT
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I've had / have many of the same fears. It gets a little better with time. Thanks for sharing.
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le_bruce
climber
Oakland: what's not to love?
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Mar 20, 2008 - 02:57am PT
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Thanks for the good TR. Write-ups like this one get me through the city days.
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J. Werlin
climber
Cedaredge
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Mar 20, 2008 - 10:00am PT
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Nice TR and appreciation of the SW desert beauty. Thanks.
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Zander
Trad climber
Berkeley
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Mar 20, 2008 - 05:28pm PT
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Thanks for the TR.
What cool places!
Zander
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macalpin
climber
UT
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Mar 20, 2008 - 08:11pm PT
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Great TR. Two of my favorite places to climb in the states.
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