Up to Wimpy Point. Gack - $5 just to park by the road! As far as I can see, the $5 mainly pays rangers to ensure that everyone pays $5. The other major benefit seems to be bigger outhouses and fancier picnic tables. They sure don't spend any of that money on climbers...
Anyway, I'm in the familiar parking lot by General Hitchcock. No climbers in sight! What a bunch of wimps! My goal was to bag some old favorites - why not start with General Hitchcock? I led this by clipping in long to each bolt as I pass by. Soon I arrived on top. Great view - nothing like this out East!
Next: Mean Mistreater, one of the best 10's at the point. No way I'm going to lead this solo so instead I drop a toprope and tie in as I climb. This is definitely not as good a belay as you get leading: I slip at the first crux and drop 7 feet on rope stretch. That will teach me! Trying again, I remembered the sequence and soon floundered up to the crux. I could see the damn jug just a foot out of reach. How the hell did this move go? I meditate. I ponder. Oh yes - the foot smear! Delicacy, not brute force, is the answer. It's a Zen thing. Soon I was up - no climbers in sight; what a great afternoon.
Hiking back up, I ran into the only other climber around - he's also without a partner and had just soloed Old Man. Unfortunately he has to run so I'm still partnerless. Getting late - just time enough for Hunchback. Same technique as Hitchcock and I was up. There's something about climbing these free-standing pillars that you don't find elsewhere. Or maybe they are just phallic symbols and this is something about my manhood. Whatever - it was fun and darkness was falling. Down the newly improved(?) road and off to see the Moose (Colleen) where a pleasant evening awaited.
After a quick 1/2 hour approach, we arrived at the base of a huge free-standing fin of rock. The rock was very similar to Smith rock - the part of Smith rock nobody climbs on that is. It was some sort of half-cemented volcanic crud that was just enough harder than the surrounding crud to be left standing as this softer rock decomposed into dust. The route was well defined - a striking and exposed arete, first climbed long ago by Bill Forest and a few other lunatic climbers. Most of the protection consisted of rusted, antique bolts, no doubt placed by Bill himself. At least the traffic in the intervening years had managed to remove most of the loose crud from the route. Although the route is rated 5.6, it's a hardman 5.6. At the base, I sensed a sandbag. Tim just grinned and offered me all the leads. Wahoo.
The first pitch was pretty mellow - some easy chimney and then a step onto the arete. Here the exposure increased and the rusty bolts began to appear. Still, nothing was too bad and I even got a nut or two in to back up the bolts. The belay was on "Chicken Ledge", evidently the high point of less intrepid climbers. At least the belay had a nut to augment the old bolts. Tim cruised up and offered me the sharp end again. Above, a line of hopelessly manky bolts beckoned.
Hero time. Tim was no doubt highly amused as I worked all the 5.6 moves to death. Lots of slopey holds and rusty iron. The one good piece of potential pro was a pin scar but the pink tricam wasn't with me so I had to trust the bolts. Slowly I oozed up, quite impressed by the exposure on both sides of the ridge. At least if I fell I would have the satisfaction of ripping Tim off Chicken Ledge to join me in a death crater full of blood and ripped bolts and cactus spines - everything up there looked to be rusty or loose! Serves him right for taking me on a 5.6. But no - I kept my head together and soon the climbing eased up and we were on top. A nice view, an exciting summit, and a long rap. What more could you want? All in all, an excellent adventure.
After saying good by to Tim and Karen (thanks!!!) I was off for Vegas!
The first crux was figuring out where to park. We had to drive really slow on the dirt roads, barely faster than a walk. When the road seemed to veer away from the rock, we parked and struck out cross-desert for the climb. We should have kept driving - we would have gotten closer and found a good trail but what the heck. Eventually we found the trail and reached the base of the route in about 2 hours of hiking. It would probably go in 1.5 hours if you parked in the right place and stayed on the trail.
The first pitch was a pleasant wide crack with a short overhang, leading to a big ledge. No problems! Ray took the next pitch, more of the same. We stretched the lead a bit to avoid a bogus belay stance, bagging two leads at once. A short pitch put us at the crux: a traverse around a huge roof. This pitch was exceptionally cool - 3 or 4 more of these and this climb would have lines and lines of climbers on it. As it was, we saw nobody anywhere near us. The traverse was exposed but well protected. At the end was the only tough move - a short roof. There were many possibilities and I fiddled around a bit before commiting. It turned out to be OK and I could see the belay just above.
One more hard move. I wasted some time placing a few RP's. As I leaned back to contemplate the move, I heard a shout from Ray. My extra shirt - my only warm clothing - had fallen out of my pack and was fluttering away in the breeze. I swore a bit and started to take off my (el cheapo) pack to zip it back up. Big mistake! As the pack swung around, first one and then the other tennis shoe flew out in a graceful arc towards the ground far below. Ray found this whole farce to be highly amusing while I tried to watch where everything landed. What a weiner! So much for my aura of intense gnarliness and vast knowledge. Oh well - back to the move. Lieback here, thin step there and I was up to a nice ledge.
We were in a big gully. A not so great pitch up and then left led to a large ledge. Maybe we should have stayed right - this didn't match the book description at all. But there was chalk so were not alone in our chosen line. Ray took the last lead - an easy hike over loose rock and a short steep section. I didn't really enjoy the top too much in spite of the view since the wind was strong and I was getting really cold. So we headed on down hoping to recover the former contents of my pack.
By Vegas standards, the descent wasn't too bad. Going slow in my rock shoes we reached the base in about 45 minutes. I ran back up the first pitch to the big ledge while Ray searched the base. The rock gods smiled: Ray found one shoe and I found the other and my warm shirt too. I guess clean living and good karma sometimes pay off. Anyway, my feet were much happier and we headed back down. The climb took less that 3 hours but the days were short and it was time to head down.
So that was it - a long drive to LA (LA = Hell) for me then back to work while Ray had 4 more days of climbing. Then back to Connecticut - and the the cold and rain that we New Englanders endure to make up for a splendid fall season. Life's a bitch.