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Roxy
Trad climber
CA Central Coast
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bump to another FA read, right on!
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Stonyman61
Trad climber
Hartselle, Alabama
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So awesome. Thanks for sharing. Love the history. One of my favorite films of all times..
BK
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Crimpergirl
Sport climber
Boulder, Colorado!
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Wow! Cool!
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neebee
Social climber
calif/texas
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hey there all.... really do love these photos....
:)
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oldguy
climber
Bronx, NY
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Apr 11, 2009 - 12:57pm PT
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As to the puddle on the summit, it came not from rain which is rare in the region, but from Mark Powell who, since they were being watched by tourists and Navajoes down below, laid down to relieve himself. It should also be noted that when Dolt and Don Wilson were prusiking to the last belay stance they were blown forty feet out and half way around the spire by a fifty mile an hour wind. Quite a ride I would think. Also, the "dropped" ropes story comes from the second ascent when TM Herbert, who was setting the ropes up for the rappel while Rearick and Condon were busy with other chores, simply said, "oops", probably the most understated of TM's wonderful comic bits.
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Steve Grossman
Trad climber
Seattle, WA
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Apr 11, 2009 - 01:44pm PT
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Mark had a pretty good laugh about that incident when I interviewed him recently. The local entrepreneur had seized the moment and bussed several dozen tourists and other interested folks out to witness the spectacle! That puddle of piddle is famous!
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Steve Grossman
Trad climber
Seattle, WA
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Jan 29, 2012 - 08:23pm PT
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Long overdue bump...
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Steve Grossman
Trad climber
Seattle, WA
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Feb 12, 2012 - 01:49pm PT
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DoltPole Bump...
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PhilG
Trad climber
The Circuit, Tonasket WA
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Feb 12, 2012 - 02:01pm PT
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Super Cool, Don.
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crunch
Social climber
CO
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Feb 12, 2012 - 03:33pm PT
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Here's an account written by my old friend and partner Bill Roberts:
“Behind Enemy Lines” by Bill Noname
It had been far too long since I had had a good adventure. Moses was a great time but that was almost a month ago. And with the new year rapidly approaching little time was left to squeeze in another good time before starting the 1987 season. “What would be a good but wild thing to do” I asked myself. Well I wasn't into freezing so my thoughts returned once again to the desert.
Back through old issues of Climbing and Mountain I go, seeking out information about the gems of desert climbing, hoping to pin down a good project. The next day I run into Charlie Fowler and start asking about the “Sundevil Chimney” on the Titan. A 900-foot soft stone tower seemed like it might make for a wild time. "Yea, that's the ticket!" Before leaving I asked Charlie about the Totem Pole. He says, “it's pretty easy…probably about 5.9, Al or so.”
“But isn't it illegal?" I asked. “The Indians don't seem to mind” was his response. Wow! The Totem Pole. That would be even wilder that the Titan. Especially with the added intrigue of being “behind enemy lines,” so to speak.
“P—, lets do the Totem Pole.”
His response was quick and decisive. “Sure! But you've gotta drive…it's your turn. But wait, isn’t Monument Valley off-limits to climbers?”
“Well, sorta. Charlie said the Indians really don't seem to mind and the route is only 5.9, Al. We should be able to cruise it.” Well maybe the Indians didn’t mind too much, but P— and I decided to try and minimize the chances of failure. We needed a third member of the team, someone to do the drop off and pick up…R—!
“R—, you wanna go to Arizona? P— and I are going to do the Totem Pole. On the way back we can do the Titan.” Well, R— didn't seem to mind playing third man on the Totem Pole as long as he could see some action on the Titan. Now we needed to come up with camouflaged ropes and clothing. It was decided P— would wear “Ninja” black and I would wear a sandy-colored assortment. Our ropes would be black and very dirty yellow. Perfect! We'll cruise in and out and the Navajo won't see a thing…or so we thought.
Leaving Boulder at 1:00 in the afternoon put us in Monument Valley around 1:00 am. It was New’s Eve. We are greeted by a chained gate and signs indicating that just about everything in Monument Valley is illegal. We realize we are now in enemy territory. Closer inspection of the gate reveals the chain to be unlocked. So deeper we go…onward toward our goal. P— supposedly knows were the Totem Pole is since he had done an aerial recon just the week before. But in the moonless dark of the night everything looks the same. “Take this road…I'm sure it's the right one,” P— says with confidence as we turn onto the narrow rutted track. Soon the lights of the truck are shining on the front door of a Navajo residence! That's all we need! Wake the “lnjins” and get caught before we even touch the spire. Then R— calmly points out that because we are on an Indian reservation—the Navajo Nation in fact—the US Constitution didn't apply anymore, and we would be subject to Navajo tribal law if caught. “Hum…hadn't thought of that,” was all I could say.
After more groping about, we finally come across it. The whole scene takes on an air of surrealism. The incredible quietness and solitude, together with the shadows let the imagination run wild. And it was cold too—colder than we thought it could get in Arizona. Soon we were looking for a secluded spot to bivy before arising early to start our stealthy sojourn.
At 4:00 am we’re up. All I could think was this was too much like an alpine climb. But nonetheless, we had to get moving. Feeling like agents from Central Intelligence we all three coordinate watches and reiterate the plan: R— would get out before sunrise, resetting the chain on the gate. He would then play tourist and come hack in around 1:00 pm to meet us at our prearranged pickup point. Meanwhile, P— and I would hike across the dunes to our appointed task. As we walked along we thought of alibis we might try if we were caught. We had two complete sets of clothes. Our “commando” camouflage and our “happy camper backpacker” clothes. This way, if we were apprehended on the walk out we could claim we were backpacking and just get hit with the fine for walking off of established trails, or so the theory went. … We set off in the darkness, minus headlamps.
Hiding our remaining gear down low, we hike up the talus cone to the base of the climb. The first pitch starts with a beautiful overhanging thin crack that turns into a five-inch offwidth. After two moves I’m aiding as my fingers are numb and we are here to get up and out, not to try to free every move. Halfway up the first pitch I find myself clipping into rotting 1/4" webbing tied to an old piece of 2x4 for pro. I had already used the two #7 Tricams but was wishing I had a few more. I didn’t trust the webbing to lower off of, so I somehow managed to move upward, fearing the Navajo more than falling. Soon the crack returns to hands and fingers and I’m at a narrow, exposed belay. I very quietly tell P— to start climbing and before long he’s dealing with the same wonderful offwidth that I experienced. While P— is climbing I notice dust clouds kicked into the air by a vehicle in the distance—and headed toward us! “No, it couldn’t be. They can't know we are here! Can they?” After P— arrives we survey the situation. The truck seems to have turned around. This was good because the next pitch looks like the infamous “Supercrack of the Desert;” only overhanging and in a much more wild setting! P— is soon jamming smoothly up the pitch looking more like the Ninja warrior I now imagine him to be. The exposure becomes obvious as I follow the pitch. But my biggest fear is being shot while climbing. So, I keep motoring. At the tiny exposed belay P— and I decide that the climbing probably wasn’t 5.9. And if Charlie was wrong on that, then maybe he was wrong on the bit about the Navajo.
The last pitch was overhanging and wild also. The tower at this point is about 30 feet thick. After a series of tied-off blades I'm thinking this is pretty hard for Al. But that didn’t matter now as we are getting close and I can almost taste success. Of course, deep down I knew that making the top wasn’t even halfway for us. We still had to get off of the reservation. Soon I’m cruising the bolt ladder and find the last bolt missing! “Unreal! So close and this happened” My fear and questioning soon turn to a form of decisive energy. Whispering for a lot of slack I free the last couple of moves.
The top of the Totem Pole; but I don’t even think about standing up. I simply slither about surveying the horizon for dust clouds, hoping that down there the braves are still sleeping or at least not inspecting the Totem Pole. Confident that the way is clear I whisper down to P— to jug on. As P— jugs the pitch I notice eight oddly placed bolts. My mind is soon filled with memories of Chevrolet television commercials. You know, the ones with a beautiful woman sitting in a 1967 Chevy convertible on top of some spire in the desert.
Soon thoughts of 1960s automobile commercials are replaced with the awareness that a Navajo tribal ranger is below yelling up at us! I look over the edge to see P— halfway up the pitch, spinning in space, with the ropes sucked up all about him, trying to make his six-foot-plus stature appear small. Then it dawns on me that the ranger isn’t yelling at us, but at someone down on the talus cone who was apparently watching us. Later P— told me that he almost yelled out to the ranger, that we had to go to the top in order to come down. The only reason he didn't was that he heard a woman respond to the ranger before he had a chance to. Incredibly, the ranger and woman leave without looking up!
Finally on top, P— is looking as jazzed as I've ever seen him. I peek over the edge to see a white Chevy Blazer driving away and think to myself “Wonder if the Navajo got a deal on Chevys?” P— is stilled jazzed and claims that the ranger saw us and is just “f*#king with our minds.” So we track the dust clouds as the ranger drives off to the south and turns up a canyon. I say, “Let's get moving” but P— wants to wait a bit since he is convinced the ranger is “just playing with us.” Finally deciding that missing the rendezvous with R— would cause major problems, we proceed to bail. The first rappel is another entry in my book of “wildest ever” rappels. The top of the Totem Pole is actually a greater diameter than the middle section.
Soon we are on the ground back at our stashed gear, the whole time keeping an eye out for “Injins.” I was wondering what they would do if they caught us now. Would they bury us up to our necks in ant piles and leave us for the crows? Into our “happy camper” suits we go. Burying the ropes and gear at the bottom of the backs ensure that we look like backpackers and that the worst they might do is get us for illegal hiking and camping. Nevertheless we proceed across the dunes with caution, seeking out low channels whenever possible to reduce the chance of revealing our movement.
Arriving at the pickup point reveals: No R—! We immediately start thinking that the “Injins” have R— and we have to rescue him. But wait, we are the ones in need of rescue—having committed such a heinous act. We are the ones behind enemy lines, as vulnerable as can be. And our trustworthy partner in crime is nowhere to be found! So P— gets this great idea that he will pose as a tourist who has somehow become separated from his group. He will carry a camera only. I stay behind with the gear in hopes that R— will arrive.
December 31, 1986 was pretty cold in Monument Valley and as the sun was not-so-slowly sinking in the west I was wishing I had more clothes with me. Suddenly, out of a nearby draw comes Mr. R— with a tall Budweiser in his hand! “R—! Where in the hell have you been!” “I’ve been sitting around the bend at our prearranged spot for the last two hours, where have you guys been?” he says. Oh well, so much for our critical planning.
“Where’s P—?” R— asks. I explain to him what happened and how we thought the “Injins” had captured him and the truck, and how P— was off acting as a tourist to try and find out where he was. But the important thing was that we now had an escape vehicle, with beers and tunes!
By our fifth or sixth lap around the loop road darkness has long since fallen and R— and I conclude that P— has probably been abducted by extraterrestrial aliens. It seemed liked the kind of thing that might happen in a place like this, and besides, I’m sure his parents would understand. As we are driving out of the park a Navajo police vehicle approaches. As it gets closer I see P— sitting in the front seat. We stop side by side and P— quickly jumps out of the patrol car, a finger over his lips indicating to us to keep our mouths shut. Before long the white Chevy Blazer we saw earlier that day also joins us. R— and I are keeping quite since we don’t know what story P— has concocted. After 20 minutes or so, we have convinced Elmer (the Navajo ranger) that we were just passing through and had camped out and done a bit of hiking. He proceeds to tell us how serious our trespasses were, detailing $1000 fines, confiscation of our property, federal offenses, Indian courts and the like. In the end he fines us each $1.00 which we happily pay.
Before long we're heading north into Utah. As we drive along R— reads from the literature he picked up earlier that day. “No liquor is allowed on the reservation.” “No camping is allowed except in designated sites.” “Hiking is limited to established trails.” “Absolutely NO CLIMBING is allowed in the tribal park.” Well, I guess we didn’t break too many rules. And as we drive deeper into Utah on that New Year's Eve feeling like we had just pulled off the greatest caper of our lives, P— says, “You know, the Mitten Thumb looked pretty neat; what do you think, Bill?”
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KabalaArch
Trad climber
Starlite, California
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Feb 12, 2012 - 05:00pm PT
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PT
So it begs the question...is it possible to climb the Pole anymore? If you ask really nice, will they let you climb it?
I’d personally trade you all of your Cerro Torres in the world for the Totem Pole.
Forbidden Fruit – well, that doesn’t really augment its allure. This is a matter of Athena Nike aesthete.
I’ll share what I know, which may not be much…but might mean a summit for some gun.
I climbed in Indian Creek with a guide who’d summitted. Their strategy was simple enough, just needs some finesse.
They’d gone for a pre-dawn start up the Bandito Route, established up the S. Face after the general and overall climbing closure, on a Christmas morning, hoping to minimize their exposure to Tourists in general, and those specifically herded into the Navaho tabletop bazaar which rings the roadhead, some 10 miles from the Pole – this area is actually a security watch post.
Unfortunately, the final pitch brought their shillouttes into the breaking dawn. The tourist busses busted my friend’s party. Being kids and all, they largely escaped censure at the hands of the Navaho Tribal Police, who may and will: confiscate your car, your rack…and you. Stories of climbers returning to find their car’s windshields smashed in with baseball bats come from credible sources.
So, if your plan involves poaching, you’ve got to get creative. Rental car shuttles? Backdoor approach hiking, with livestock?
So…skipping ahead, the question is how to pull of the ascent, without pissing of The People?
1st thing I learned was that the only way to get close enough to The Pole to taste the 1st hand jamb is to – Hire a “Guide.” Was about $70 – cash. For this sum, you may expect to be driven in a Chevy 4x PU right up to the base, and stretch your legs a bit. Bring binos and cameras with telephoto lenses….because, if you’re going to poach it, with or without Native cooperation, expect to move very quickly, and likely as not pre-dawn, if not under cover of the winter night.
Hiring a Guide is also an opportunity to rebuild bridges with the Tribal Authorities. I pitched a Permit system, since a source of revenue is of the utmost to the Navaho. Just one step at a time, and we may get some few climbing privileges back, without alienating them but instead helping them.
I used my opportunity to demonstrate modern cams, since their general knowledge is based upon destructive pitons. My Guide and company had never seen them, but immediately grasped their non-invasive principle.
I also tried to convey that the Totem Pole is held as holy by as many honkies as Peoples.
Just to hang out at the bedrock was worth the bread. Didn’t hurt to come home with a 36” high telephoto printout of the Bandito Route – every bolt on what few ladders exist glow in the afternoon sun.
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LilaBiene
Trad climber
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Jun 13, 2012 - 12:13am PT
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Don, I wish I could convey the range of emotions these pictures evoke for me. Thank you for sharing, and thereby preserving, one cool as Hell glimpse into another world...
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StahlBro
Trad climber
San Diego, CA
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Jun 13, 2012 - 12:19am PT
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Fantastic! Never get tired of the desert spires!
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Studly
Trad climber
WA
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Jun 13, 2012 - 12:47am PT
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Great thread. Did you guys ever hear the story about why the Totem Pole is completely closed to climbing now?
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skywalker
climber
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Jun 13, 2012 - 12:53am PT
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Because of dogs named "Dark Star" or some phallic insecurity?
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Steve Grossman
Trad climber
Seattle, WA
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Not quite sure how this one got past me but here is the original account of the FA by Mark Powell from Summit April 1958.
Jerry Gallwas prusiking on the cover.
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LilaBiene
Trad climber
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Awesome, Steve!!! TFPU!
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Steve Grossman
Trad climber
Seattle, WA
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Mark Powell didn't write many articles so this one is even sweeter.
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Carmel Climber
Mountain climber
Carmel California
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Jun 18, 2013 - 07:13pm PT
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To All,
Get it through your heads, the Totem Pole is off limits for climbing. It's sacred to the Navajo people. That's that! So you'll know. The pole is in Monument Valley. One way in, one way out. They lock it up at night and you better be out of there by that time. There is no driving to it. You'll be spotted if you hike to it. You'll be spotted if you try to climb it. You can be fined, you can be jailed. Just like in Yosemite. You'll have to be content climbing El Cap or Cerro Torre. You were just born 40 years too late!
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