I wanted to write a story for all of our friends about our ascent of Un Fina Linea de Locura on Torre Central in Chile this year. However, every time I tried to start, it just wouldn't come out. So, I decided instead, to type out my journal that I kept while we were on the wall. As anyone who has been tent-bound knows, writing out your feelings or your recollection of the days' events is a great way to kill time, instead of your partner!

I will only release an entry or two a day, so that all you lovely supertopo members will look at more than just the pictures- something I am guilty of:)
If you want to see more, you have to come out to Lone Pine for our slideshow this spring!
Here goes nothing...
Dec. 30th, 2014
I've never been so cold. Maybe, in short bursts, after which I would immediately warm myself in a lodge drinking a stout beer, or get back into the hot tub after rolling in the snow. But this was different. It had been snowing for something like 6 hours. A wet, sloppy snow that was only increasing by the minute, and we were 800 ft. off the deck on the East face of Torre Central in Patagonia.

It was our first day on the wall for our capsule-style push to free-climb Un Fina Linea de Locura and we had two giant haulbags in tow, along with all of our fixed line that were cleaning as we ascended. At first, it didn't seem too bad, Myles was body-hauling as I jummared and repelled each pitch twice-wrestling the bag over roughs and around corners as I went. But every time I quit moving, even for an instant, the thorough soaking set in and chilled me to the bone. Then, setting off again, the fingers would sting and burn as they regained circulation. In my normal, daily life, such horrible things would never escape out from my mouth, but screaming profanities was the only pain relief I had...I guess that's why it's called "Screaming Barfies!"

Our goal was to get up to our last fixed rope, 6 pitches up the slabby beginning and out of the 'danger zone' of falling rock and ice that tends to sweep down this face. Finally, we had to call it. We were only about 100ft from our goal, but we still had to set up the portaledge and unpack our haulbags. As we were working on building the ledge, my hands quit working; my leather work-gloves dripping icy cold water, and my body temperature no longer aided by the adrenaline it was pumping due to my idol ness. I tried putting on my one, warm pair of gloves, but couldn't get them on. Myles swung over to me, screaming at me to "get that sh#t on!", but I couldn't. Each time I tried, my pinky finger, which I was unable to feel, would involuntarily bend. Myles continued to scream at me until I finally forced my hand to go in, then the real fight began. Most couples fight; they fight about all kinds of things, some important, and some petty. I can now admit that in my total state of exhaustion, frustration, and agony, I ended my five year relationship over a pair of over-mitts, the first day on the wall.

Soon we were in the relative comfort of our ledge and I cracked. Tears streamed down my face which I just let soak into my already drenched balaclava. Everything inside steamed. I asked Myles if he wanted to be my boyfriend, again. He said he would think about it. Onward to day two...the Bonnington expedition named Central Tower "Ned", we soon realized why. F*#k You Ned, WE'RE STILL HERE!!!