Piton Ron, back in the day, quietly made first ascents of many of the best quality desert towers of the Colorado Plateau. The Witch, The Owl, Charlie Horse Needle, many more.

Abbey Tower, the tallest of a line of proud pinnacles on the Green River's Bowknot Bend, would have been irresistible. Clean Wingate cracks lead all the way to the summit. The first ascent was finally done in May 1989. Such a singular summit in such a remote location deserved a singular name, so Ron named this tower for Ed Abbey.


May 2017 was time for a rematch. Ron invited me along, together with Eve and Danny McGee.

We assembled in Moab at Ralph and Eve's place, drove out to the put-in at Spring Canyon. Except that when we arrived at the start of the steep switchbacks that dropped into this canyon, there was a swarm of non-moving ATVs.



Next, Ron's vehicle died. Would not start. End of the trip, right there. Eve and I raced out to the highway to try to catch phone reception so we could warn our friends Danny and Hugh who were planning on boating upstream from Mineral Bottom to meet us. As Eve talked to Danny, Ron somehow reached me and explained his vehicle was mysteriously working again. Back to the switchbacks and the put-in.

We started up the outboard motor; Eve, in her own little inflatable canoe, set off. Whereupon out motor stalled and would not be restarted. We had planned on motoring back upstream after our climb. If the motor could not be relied upon, we would have to float downstream after the climb. Lucky for us, another pair of climbers had joined us at the put-in with a moto-less boat and had just set off to drop a vehicle off at Mineral Bottom. I raced after them, fast--60 on the dirt road, much faster on the pavement stretch. They kindly gave me a ride back, so this trip report is dedicated to Trevor and Aaron.



With a vehicle far downstream, we could set off!

The campsite under Abbey Tower, when we arrived, was idyllic--friendly bats skittered among pretty cottonwoods and oaks, silence ruled, the beer was perfectly chilled. Hugh and Danny arrived at the last minute. We talked and joked far into the moonlit night.




We rose early, excited, headed up the talus. I wanted to lead nothing, being 11 weeks out from hip replacement surgery, and a bit wary of potential impacts. i belayed Eve.


There was a large ledge after the second pitch. Just one more, brief pitch led to the summit. Danny led this, and as he moved upward, we watched as a band of dark clouds crept in from the west.


As he reached the top, low rumblings became louder, a fierce wind howled, raindrops flew sideways. Danny fixed a rope, Eve set off. Nearing the summit she began screaming, not from joy at reaching a classic summit but from being repeatedly shocked by her belay device. She descended fast and we all fled down fixed ropes. Ron had been to thr top before, Danny and Eve had reached the top this go round, so I, as the only non-summiteer, volunteered to jumar back up later and clean the route.

Of course, the weather cleared by the time we all reached the ground. So, I decided to head right back up. Of course, by the time I reached the same high point, 50 feet from the top, another thunderstorm rolled in...




After the second storm, our sunset was spectacular and happy bats again frolicked around us as we drank beer and ate dinner.

Next morning: perfect blue sky dawn: I was on top by 9 AM.





The boat ride out was exhilarating and humbling. The engine miraculously worked and we flew through a landscape that was inviting, beautiful. Towers and canyons rose and fell, clouds drifted in and out of view.


Yet mile by mile, the vista became overwhelming, severe, and alien. I was glad to reach the take-out. I cannot fathom how it must have been to boat down this river as part of the original Powell expedition, week after week, month after month gliding past the same daunting, inhospitable cliffs, no maps, no idea when the vista would open up once again to human proportions.

Huge thanks to Piton Ron, Danny McGee, Eve, Hugh for sharing this fabulous adventure. And to the tower's namesake, Ed Abbey, whose writing I love to return to for inspiration and perspective.