Don't look at a wallflower askance;
If a girl sitting lonely you see,
Just bow, smile and beg for a dance."
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 Credit: spyork |
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(Original ST forum post & responses are here:
http://www.supertopo.com/climbing/thread.php?topic_id=914143 )
Preface: In the early years of the millennium, pre-ST, I scoured the Carville Tahoe guide for .10a routes, lines that would be uncrowded yet doable by someone of my meager leading (and route finding) abilities. Wallflower appeared to be one of those routes and was in the back of my mind for years, something I was going to get on "one of these days." Zander's excellent 2007 TR only made it sound more appealing and is the background for this account. Read it here:
http://www.supertopo.com/climbing/thread.html?topic_id=451443
Part I: Asking her to dance is the easy part. It's the actual dancing that's hard, and you better not screw up.
Circumstances beyond our control nixed the Charlotte Dome trip and I suggested a day trip to the Leap for a go at Wallflower. From Zander's TR it sounded challenging but possible, so late Sunday morning found Steve leading up the first pitch of North Face towards Great White Scoop.
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Leading the 2nd pitch (1st of Wallflower) I quickly realized the severe nature of the route. That first 'problem' on the 2nd pitch was HARD! (I think this was the campusing part Zander referred to.) I should boulder more. Here's a view of Steve down at the 1st belay, taken from the 2nd belay stance on the ramp.
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Well, at least I led it clean (if slow). The next pitch, which I foolishly also wanted to lead, was a different story. To make a long ordeal shorter, I fell while trying to climb the ".10c" variation (which I didn't realize I was on until re-reading Zander's TR afterwards), then gave up on that and made the tenuous traverse through the ".10a" variation (w/ at least 2 hangs), and finally groveled over the alcove roof into a decent stance. There was a piton 10 or 15 feet up, which I seized as an opportunity to make a belay. The anchor was: the old piton, a yellow metolius master cam behind a large questionable block, and blue master cam in a semi-flaring crack. It was a hanging belay but I was grateful for the break.
Definitely not my finest lead, and maybe the worst.
Then it was Steve's turn and he climbed solid right up until something went wrong at the traverse and he came off. ("It's not an adventure until something goes wrong.")
He swung back and forth on the rope, plainly expressing his grief, while I considered the anchor and tried to think positive thoughts. Eventually the swinging stopped but the wall is so steep that Steve was too far out to get back on the rock. He tried swinging so as to kick off and get back in, tried prussicing, etc., but nothing worked. Before long it was clear that bailing was the only option, and given the circumstances I didn't think twice about leaving the anchor. I don't want to die, or even get slightly injured.
Here's looking down, shortly after Steve touched down on the low-angle part of the Great White Scoop. Note the rope hanging down behind - gives an idea of the angle!
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(In retrospect, looking at that, maybe if I'd clipped straight into the cams Steve could've gotten back on. But I guess I was thinking about rope drag, and I might've been a little sketched at the time. Or a lot of sketched. Oh well, hindsight is 20/20...)
Steve's shot of me rapping from the last belay:
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Another couple of easy raps via Power Lust got us to the ground, safe and sound. The day didn't turn out as expected, but it was still a cool adventure.
On our way out I took a last picture of the lonely anchor we left behind. First time I ever left more than some slingage and maybe a nut (sigh), but no regrets.
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I figured that gear would be gone by Monday, snagged by some telescope-toting Strawbilly who'd spied the booty and soloed up to get it.
Driving back I put Wallflower behind me. Done deal. Over. Move on.
But then...later that evening it kept creeping back into my mind. I didn't care about the gear, it was the nagging sense of something left undone. From that last belay it had looked like the hard climbing was almost over. Sure, in his TR Zander said of that next pitch (direct quote):
I was chanting an unending litany of fear, “ohshitohshitohshitohshitwhereistheholdthereisnoholdi’mf*#kedi’mf*#kedmovehigherohshitohshitgottagetproohshitohshitmovehigher.....”.
But how hard could it be?
Part II: If at first you don't succeed...
I didn't ask Steve directly whether he wanted another go at Wallflower - he didn't seem eager to get back on too soon - so I tried to think of someone else who'd want to climb the route. Nothing. And then (divine intervention?) on Tuesday I ran into Mike, a climbing acquaintance I hadn't seen in awhile. We never climbed together but word on the street was that he's a strong climber so I told the story and tried to make it sound appealing despite the fact Steve and I had to bail.
Before committing he wanted to read Zander's TR. I also sent him my version of the route topo:
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It didn't take much arm-twisting (actually, none), so on Sunday exactly one week later Mike and I were at the Leap for another try. Looking up on the approach I was happy to see that the anchor was still there! (Well, it wasn't TOO surprising...) This time Mike was going to lead pitches 2 and 3. I added an ascender to my arsenal too, "just in case".
Anyway, after leading the North Face 1st pitch I had a chance to hang out in Great White Scoop, look around, and get nervous. There were a couple climbers over on Absolutely Billy. Or is that North Country? I always get those routes mixed up! (Just kidding - it's definitely A.B.)
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Mike arrived, grabbed the gear, and cruised right up the first pitch of Wallflower. (I gotta start bouldering more!) Things were looking good.
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He belayed me up and started the next pitch via ".10a" horizontal traverse. There's a nest inside the crack just under the roof and mother swallow was zooming in and out, and the chicks were making a lot of noise. Kind of cool. Last week I only heard the noise and thought they were bats.
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With concerted effort Mike made it to the orphaned anchor, pulled the rope, and put me on belay. Nothing left to do but go. The traverse wasn't exactly easier the second time through, but it helped to know that if/when I reached far enough left there'd be a thank-god side-pull waiting to save me. Grunting, swearing and struggling got me to the alcove crouch (which DID seem harder this time) and up to the anchor. Whoo-hoo!!
The respite was short-lived because then I remembered the next pitch was my lead and Zander's refrain grew louder:
I was chanting an unending litany of fear, “ohshitohshitohshitohshitwhereistheholdthereisnoholdi’mf*#kedi’mf*#kedmovehigherohshitohshitgottagetproohshitohshitmovehigher.....”.
Well no turning back now. Mike handed me the gear, I took a deep breath, and climbed. Getting around the anchor was awkward. The original strategy was for a quick lieback off the (questionable) block to place a finger-size cam a ~foot above the piton, but once started there was no good stance and I was too far up to place the cam. There were one or two more sketchy moves before the next possible pro (yellow metolius TCU, I think) followed by vehement cursing at tangled runners. I clipped straight into the cam.
Then somehow, having anticipated and worried and been all worked up about this thing the whole week...I arrived at that ineffable space where I wonder a lot of us like to climb so much. It felt good and I stopped to look down.
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(Note the stopper I forgot to re-rack; this was the cause of the tangled runners.)
From there the climbing was more technical but less burly because it was vertical instead of overhanging. The main challenge was dealing with the cobwebs and choss. After 40 or 50 feet I got to the rock/pillar Zander mentioned, that was slung with old webbing. It reminded me of the webbing on 3rd Stone last year that Aaron tore apart with his bare hands.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rE3LuStU0AM
I kept going and eventually found a good crack for a natural pro anchor (~100 feet up from the last belay). It was a comfortable stance and in the sun, so once I got things set up I had a chance to look around and enjoy the view.
There were some folks starting the 3rd pitch of Corrugation Corner. Wow, that looks exposed!
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This was the funnest pitch of the route. A bit sketchy at the start, but after that there's just enough to keep your attention without being so desperate burly. Mike appeared to enjoy the pitch too.
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As soon as he arrived we exchanged gear and he was on his way to the top.
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It was a relief to finish Wallflower, and getting the gear back was icing on the cake. Going down the descent trail I had a chance to reflect on the whole experience, enjoy another beautiful afternoon at Lover's Leap, and look forward to the next climbing adventure...
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"...he was not quite sure what to do next. But he would think of something."
- Arthur C. Clarke, 2001 a Space Odyssey
