Danger! Extremely long trip report. Read at your own risk. Caffeine may be necessary.
Our summer trip started with a visit the Hager's place in Baltimore. After a very nice time with Dor and the kids (Greg was gone) we hit the road for Ohiopyle and the lower Yough. The water was warm but low and I took Jay in the duckie while Marti and Eric hardboated. Everything went well - the water in Swimmers was so shallow you could easily wade out into the hole. Even Jay (Mr. I Hate Kayaking) likes the Yough. That evening we drove to Columbus, Ohio.
Ohio was on my "50 state tick list" - I had yet to climb rock there so we detoured off I-70 a bit and hit "John Bryant State Park".
The presence of any sort of climbing in this area is well disguised - the terrain in SW Ohio is flat, flat, flat. But if the internet says there's a crag there must be a crag. Arriving at Park HQ we indeed found an elaborate climbers registration booth. While the kids sat zombie-like in the car with their gameboys I filled out four waivers and took four "climber tags" off of the bulletin board. These tags are used to ensure that no more than 50 climbers infest the rocks at once and seem to be a necessary evil in dealing with the state park people. A brochure directed us to the few approved climbing routes and warned us that only top toping from the existing (mammoth!) bolts was permitted - no leading, bouldering, or placing pro.
On to the chosen parking lot. Still no sign of rock. Jay was especially unhappy to lose precious gameboy time but I told him he would have hours on end in the car afterwords. Suck it up, dude!
Walking down the path, suddenly there it was: ROCK! Cool. The park contained a small (and very pretty) stream canyon with cliffs about 30' on the sides. Here the stream was quite a ways away from the cliff but in other places it ran right along the base. Although there was much unexplored climbing potential, we were happy to stay on one of the approved routes. After futzing around trying to figure out the map we finally chose a spot with what seemed to be a 5.6 or so and set the rope.
The cliff was steep and the climbing consisted of pocket pulling on somewhat slimy rock but all of us managed to gut it out and tag the biner at the top in spite of the heat. Summer was definitely not the ideal time to climb Ohio's mighty walls.
One route was more than enough so we ran back to the car, returned our climber tags, and boogied to Iowa. The next day involved a similar plan, only this time at Wild Iowa. Picture Rocks is northwest of Davenport, not far from Cedar Rapids. As in Ohio, the presence of rock is cleverly disguised. We drove through an intense thunderstorm and then, apparently in the middle of nowhere, we found the sign we were seeking and turned onto a gravel road. Rounding a corner the road suddenly dropped into a limestone gorge with a picnic area at the bottom. This placed lacked the development (and rules) we had seen in Ohio. Unfortunately the ground was still quite wet.
As usual, I had no guidebook and decided to leave the fambly at the car and roam around a bit looking for dry rock. A nice trail led along the stream and every now and then a limestone buttress would appear. There were of two sorts: drastically overhung, dry, and way hard, and vertical, soaking wet, and just plain hard. This scouting trip was somewhat of an epic due to extremely slippery clay in the soil. It was all I could do to keep from sliding uncontrolled down the hills in the path. Once the trail degenerated into a steep, winding path I retreated to the car.
As I returned, I found that Marti had gone looking for me with the climbing gear and had headed up a different trail toward one of the cliffs. Coming back down to rejoin me she took some nasty falls in the mud and was not at all happy about the conditions.
After Marti cleaned up I decided to start with a short bolted route immediately above the car. The lower part was extremely slick with rainwater but the climbing looked reasonable and I started up. The route (a corner at the right end of a steep wall) would have been about 5.6 dry but was pretty tricky wet. Everyone had a go and made it to the top anchor. We also tried some variations to the left with varying degrees of success.
Although everyone would have been happy to pack it in I wanted just one more route. As usual. We all worked up the trail to a face above a really nice looking bouldering area just off the main trail. A short overhung route on the left seemed reasonable and I tied in.
Although overhung, this wall had not missed the wrath of the storm. While the holds were quite big, each one contain its own little ecosystem consisting of water, mud, and some mysterious ingredient - perhaps snot - that rendered even the largest hold nearly useless.
My trip up the route was not in any way ethical by most climbing standards. Fortunately the bolts were close enough that I never had to worry about death but the possibility of total disgrace lingered in the air like a dead woodchuck. It was frustrating to place my hand in holds that were buckets, both in the climbing sense and literally, and grease out of them due to the slime. I managed to get to the last bolt below the anchor but was then defeated by wimpiness, weakness, and water. The only good part was the Eric could do no better and was deprived of his chance for a "Ha Ha Ha" at my expense. Marti and Jay were far too sane to even attempt the route.
At this point we were all quite ready to take off and leave Wild Iowa for some future visit in a more appropriate season. We drove back to I-80 and thence to Omaha for a nice dinner with Matt and Juliana.
The next day was the 4th of July. We spent it buying fireworks, visiting relatives, and lazing around. Jay and Eric had a great time at Wilfred's and spent much of the afternoon roaring around on go carts that went far too fast for my taste. I vowed never to let Jay get a drivers license until he was at least 40 or so. The other particularly cool thing was Clark's cistern, a circular cement tank designed to hold rainwater. It was empty and featured an amazing echo that focused sound into the center of the room in a really remarkable way.
That evening Fred took us to see Beatrice's fireworks display - quite nice. We set off our own after that and managed to avoid serious burns or amputations.
The next day we launched ourselves down I-80 to Denver. We had dinner with Grandma and Grandpa at the Outback since they were about to head for Cortland and wouldn't be around during our visit.
The next day Eric and I left Marti and Jay behind in Denver to meet Chris for a 4 day river trip through Ruby, Horsethief, and Westwater canyons near Grand Junction. Chris Kirkman had organized the trip and asked everyone gather at the outfitter's in Fruita. The only people Eric and I knew were Chris, Carrie, and Matt. The rest of the gang were various acquaintances and relatives of Chris and Carrie. Our party had two rafts and a small flotilla of kayaks including my duckie and hard boats for myself, Eric, Chris, and Carrie. Chris and I were the only experienced rowers and my role in this trip was to get a raft down Westwater without killing anyone.
After the usual slow start we launched late in the afternoon and floated slowly to the Loma boat ramp. There we collected Eric who had been waiting there while reading. We floated another few miles of flatwater and found a great campsite just past Rattlesnake canyon. The next day we floated through the flatwater of Horsethief Canyon and then into Ruby Canyon, where the train track joins the scenery. The scenery was nice but not spectacular and the weather was really hot - fine while on the water but a bit annoying around camp.
The second night we camped at Black Rocks. This is the only rapid in the canyon and isn't much but there was a great surf wave at the top that even the inflatable could handle. Chris, Eric, and I spent a lot of the evening playing in the wave. There were also granite cliffs along a deep part of the river where Eric went nuts jumping in over and over. Definitely an Eric approved campsite. Eric spent the night in a chamber sculpted in a huge black granite boulder sitting near the cliff. It looked pretty uncomfortable but Eric seemed to enjoy it.
The next morning we surfed some more and then headed on to Westwater. After a lot of flat paddling we arrived at the ranger station and were assigned Lower Dolores as our campsite. Unfortunately we lacked enough spare paddles (the only regulation the ranger seemed to be worried about) and we had to leave a couple of the kayaks behind.
After a few more flat miles the canyon deepened and we finally started the rapids section of the trip. All of the initial rapids were easy but a lot more fun than all of the flat water upstream. We stopped to check out the miners cabin and then soon came to Little Dolores rapid, the first major one on the river. We were camped at a beach 1/2 way down so we ran the top part of the rapid and pulled over. That evening Chris spent a lot of time trying to get a ride on the hole at the bottom of the rapid but it just didn't hold the boat very long. Eric got a pretty good ride the next morning but it wasn't worth pulling your boat up the rapid over and over for.
The next morning we were ready for the main event: a 3 - 4 mile section of canyon with about 10 class III rapids as well as the infamous "Skull Rapid" with the "Room of Doom". Back in my Utah days I had run this section a couple of times with various degrees of epic on each trip. Each featured a long swim from Funnel Falls to the brink of Skull as well as an extremely hairy run down Skull.
Matt took to a hard boat while various people traded off in the duckie. Everyone agreed that the duck was the place to be for maximum excitement. Chris and I were stuck on rafts though so we didn't really get the full experience.
The first few rapids were big but fun. Rowing was pretty easy and even Funnel Falls failed to capsize anyone. We all pulled out to scout Skull and found that it was absolutely trivial for hard boats at this level (4000 CFS). I gave Eric a hard time for taking the sneak instead of running the hole on top of Skull Rock. Chris screwed up the move and his raft ran right through the hole with no problem. In an amazing display of rafting skill I hit a perfect line and completely skirted the infamous hole. Below, the Room of Doom was just a big, friendly Eddy of Doom and everyone gave me a hard time about getting them worried about it.
After running Sock It To Me cleanly I spaced out and got washed into the wall and managed to lose an oar. Our Bob's Discount Rafting Gear (or whatever) had no strap to hold on to the oar and even after a long search where it was last seen it was never seen again. Probably floating in Lake Powell now. For the last rapid, Matt decided to add to the excitement by taking the ducky (and his unsuspecting passenger) over a huge pour-over, resulting in the only capsize of the trip.
After 6 flat but scenic miles we finally arrived at the takeout, right on time. Eric and I drove back to Denver to rest and relax - we were both tired of the intense sun and couldn't bear more time in the desert.
The next day we met Chris, Carrie, Matt, and Tom at the Royal Gorge. I hadn't been in the Gorge for over 15 years and didn't remember much except that Marti got seriously worked in Sunshine Falls. Matt and Tom took the duck since Tom wasn't a kayaker. The initial rapids were no big deal - everyone made it through just fine. Fortunately we were able to recognize Sunshine and we all jumped out for a look. The line was sort of complex - zigzag around some rocks and then skirt a big hole by going right next to the bank of the river. Mr. Gung Ho (Chris) decided to go first and show us weenies what it was all about. He stayed on his line but didn't quite miss the hole and got "worked". We saw his boat disappear under the froth, shoot out in the air, flip up and down, and generally get maytagged. Of course given that it was Chris we wondered if this wasn't on purpose but when he finally washed out he admitted that he was trying hard to get out the whole time.
This was more than enough for Eric, Carrie, and Tom who then carried their boats. But Matt and I were suffering from testosterone ppoisoning and decided that the duck would make it just fine. Not. At least we just barely clipped the hole but it was enough to flip the boat. But we didn't get sucked back in and it was really a pretty mellow swim.
Below Sunshine we found another big rapid marked by huge rock on the right shore. We all looked and it wasn't as bad as Sunshine and we all made it through OK after lots of deliberation.
This put us in the deepest part of the gorge. It was dark and a bit spooky but very cool. Soon we passed the inclined railway stuffed with touristos. Just below this is "Wallslammer". The name of this one proved to be quite accurate. Everyone was unexpectedly thrown up against the wall - I barely stayed upright and I think Carrie (maybe Eric?) had to do a roll. But the big problem was the duck: Tom and Matt took a swim and it took a while to get everything back in the boats. This spooked Tom and he eventually decided to abandon the duck and walk out on the tracks. There were no big rapids left and the rest of us had no problems at all heading to Canon City.
Eric was wasted so the next day I forced Jay to get out and do something. We drove up to Glenwood Springs to meet Matt (where he had been deposited by Tom) and we decided to run Shoshone. Unfortunately I had forgot some of the gear and we only had one boat available. I ran the class III part since Matt didn't want to boat alone and then Jay and I switched to bikes while Matt ran solo into Glenwood. On the way back all of us took turns riding down Vail Pass on the bikes and had a great time. We stopped by to see Dennis Boyd and had a really nice visit with him.
Next up was a family hike to Chasm Lake. Alan, Doug, and Jim all joined us as we stomped up the old familiar trail up Longs Peak. Of course the kids did this under protest and couldn't see how hiking was in any way fun. Eric took great delight in telling us how stupid the whole outing was.
The weather was great and we could see 3 different parties up on the Diamond. Poor Alan had to endure hours of Jay's Dungeons and Dragons game. This is Jay's latest source of amusement in the absence of actual video games. He plays "dungeon master" and controls everything that happens to your character as you wander around finding magic and battling monsters. Every time something was going on Jay would ask "pick a number between 1 and 5". You would answer "3" and Jay would say "Great! You scored a hit on the troll!". Of course the game always went the way Jay wanted it to go but rolling the imaginary dice made it feel like there were actual rules even though it was all just a random walk through Jay's imagination. On the hike back down I had to take over as adventurer to give poor Alan a break.
The next day Eric and I met Chris and Carrie for a run of the Numbers. Eric had done the first four the previous year so the last half of the run was new for him. As always it was a fantastic run. The level was reasonable and there were no real problems anywhere. Eric refused to take my boat into the endo spot so I didn't get any good endo pictures this time. His playboat just doesn't have enough air in it to get a real endo.
Jay and Eric just had to go to Waterworld again. Who knows why Eric would rather hang out with millions of other kids going down slides when he could be surfing or something but at least he's old enough to watch Jay so Marti and I didn't have to lose a whole day at the park.
We forced the kids to do yet another hike. We are the worlds most evil parents. We weren't going to let them spend their summer just sitting around. We drove up to RMNP and hiked the Deer Mountain trail. As usual I had play D&D with Jay but this time I was the dungeon master so things weren't as random as usual. A storm rolled in as we were hiking across the summit plateau so we decided to leave the trail and catch the view from a rocky knoll then head back. At the top of the rock we noticed Eric's hair was standing straight up. We ran down as fast as possible and soon lightening began to strike around us. The kids thought this was all pretty cool. Unfortunately we didn't have rain gear so we all got somewhat wet on the way down. The best part for the kids was the hailstorm at the end where we had to hide under trees to avoid pain and suffering.
Over the years I've gotten to know George Bell over the internet. He's an extremely enthusiastic climber and occasional poster to rec.climbing that, like me, puts climbing info on the web. We exchanged some email before the trip and decided to get together for a climb if we could. Everything worked out and George and I met at the Mesa Trail parking lot for a lightening assault on Eldorado. We headed up the long hill to Rewritten, George demonstrating his good physical conditioning and me demonstrating the effects of old age, high altitude, and far too much time spent sitting on my ass in a boat. My strategy was to occasionally break the pace by regaling with stories of the "old days". It sort of worked but it was quite obvious which of us was in prime climbing shape.
George grabbed the first lead and was soon up to the belay. I pointed out that I had always climbed this pitch to the left but after returning I found that the old guidebooks favored George's line, not mine. The next pitch is easy and I made quick work of it. George led an easy pitch to the base of crux, an infamous traverse that I used to quiver and quake across, debating the merits of hand traversing versus foot traversing as I went. George generously agreed to let me have the plum pitch and I was off. The hand - foot issue seemed to be quite settled by the amount of chalk on the handholds in the crack so I sucked it up and started to monkey across hand over hand. I hadn't done this route in about 25 years and either improvements in gear or the cunning of old age made the traverse seem pretty easy.
I managed to get up the vertical crack at the end of the traverse with only a minimum of whining and would have been able to pass myself off as a competent climber except for a long contemplation of the last 10 feet below the belay. Ah well. George fired the last pitch in no time and we were soon on top with a big collection of booty left by parties rained off the day before. George was an excellent partner and it was really fun to climb with someone new. We made it down with plenty of time to spare and George took off to prepare for a (highly successful) Canadian foray while I headed to Golden with Eric for some kayaking.
While I had boated in Colorado many times, I had never been to Clear Creek Canyon even though it's the closest whitewater to Denver. I suppose seeing all of those hairy looking rapids while climbing there many years ago had me a bit worried about it. But this time I had two advantages: advice from a guy at the kayaking store and, more importantly, Chris. We put in just below Rigor Mortis at a bridge between tunnels 2 and 3. Rigor Mortis (a class V) looked plenty hairy and we were glad to put in below it. The only two spots that the guidebook mentions on this run are Elbow Falls and 1/4 mile rapid. We soon found out that there were plenty of unnamed rapids though as the creek descended in an almost continuous set of class III rapids. We got out for a look at Elbow Falls. I always use photography as an excuse to scout rapids and I got nice shots of Eric and Chris. At this water level (about 350 cfs) it turned out to be easy even for a lamer like me.
We soon arrived at 1/4 mile rapid. Again I volunteered to get out an scout (I mean shoot pictures ...) but Chris and Eric wanted to stay in the water so I hopped up on the road and took pictures while they ran it unscouted. I'm such a wimp. Anyway, they pulled into an eddy and awaited my run. I was OK down the first couple of drops but then managed to get hung up between two rocks. I was OK - the it wasn't a big part of the rapid and I wasn't under water, just annoyed. After fiddling with my paddle for a while I managed to unstick the bow. Unfortunately this sent me into the meat of the rapid completely off balance and out of control. I spent the rest of the rapid teetering from almost flipping over one way to the other way, going backward occasionally over drops and generally totally out of control. Pulling in with Eric his only comment was "You sure made that look hard, Dad." Obviously I'm no longer the numero uno kayaker in the Peterson family. We headed on down past a short portage around a dam and then through lots more smaller rapids into the Golden Whitewater Park. The park was pretty cool - Eric and Chris had a really good time. I don't have one of these weird, high tech boats so I couldn't do a lot of the tricks but it was still fun. All in all a great day on the water.
It was now Thursday and Chris' last day in Colorado. He had never done Shoshone (Glenwood Canyon) so we headed through the Eisenhower tunnel one more time. On the drive up we let Jay ride down Vail pass into Vail by himself - it was easy for him but we worried anyway. Marti and Jay also joined us in the water and we all put in together - me with Jay in the duck and Marti and Eric in hardboats. Marti had no problem but she left most of the playing to Eric and Chris. There was some good surfing and even Jay thought it was fun.
After the boating and a stop in Glenwood to fix my bike we took some more runs down from Vail Pass on the bikes and had a blast.
On Friday I spent the morning hanging out at Access Fund world headquarters in Boulder. I spend a couple of hours talking about climbing access and the RMF with Steve and Shawn and then headed out to Boulder Canyon to meet the Youk. Dave was in town for the summer and had recently fulfilled the dream of every philosophy major: a job. Unfortunately just after they made his job with CU permanent they discontinued the program he worked for so after this year he's back to being in the normal state of Philosophy majors: unemployment.
We decided to hit Cob Rock and were soon on the Tyrolean leading across the creek. Jay thought it was hilarious and had no qualms about hanging just a couple feet over the raging water on a rope of dubious quality. Dave led the climb - North Face Center (5.7) - and Jay and I followed, climbing together. The whole way up was occupied with yet another D&D game. None of the moves bothered him a bit but I occasionally had to get him to shut up for a second while I worked out a tricky spot. I was barely able to keep up with him and we joined Dave at the top in short order.
Jay's opinion was that one climb was more than enough in a day and we should head back. I caved in to his wimpiness and Dave and I split up and we headed back to Grandma and Grandpas.
For our last day of climbing we planned an assault on Vedawoo, near Laramie. Our guests of honor were Alex and Cara. Alex had escaped Texas and was now working for HP in Fort Collins. Pretty good deal! Anyway. everything sort of fell apart due to the Rock Dance going on at the main area. This is a big deal - dancers dangling from ropes, musicians, and hundreds of spectators. It also made it hard to find people and get to climbs. We spent way too much time wondering around lost but finally found Alex and Cara. We left the crowds to climb over at the Nautilus. After mooching a guidebook we found what we needed: a nice 5.6 for Cara and a 5.9, Middle Parallel Space, for Alex.
The 5.6 was a chimney climb. The route was pretty easy until the chimney opened up and you had to do a wild "lean across" to reach the other side. Even though you're completely inside the rock it has a definite feeling of exposure. Ultimately Cara was not happy about the whole thing and lowered down and I downclimbed and cleaned the route. Meanwhile, Alex had, with major huffing and puffing, polished off the 5.9 off-hands crack and needed a second. I was unavailable and Marti was unwilling so we voted Eric into the maw of the evil crack. For a guy who no longer considers himself a climber he did quite well although I hear that he was not saying kind things about me as he scraped up the crack.
The whole climbing trip came to an unexpected end with a rain shower that chased us all back to the cars. Since we were heading to Omaha that night I was happy to get an early start. We said goodbye to Alex and Cara and began the long drive home.
Although that was the end of the family trip, I was soon back on the west coast at the Microsoft Faculty Summit.
Leon met me at the airport in a bizarro rental pickup truck - the only available vehicle evidently. We slowly crawled out of Seattle and eventually made it to Vancouver and then to Squamish. The climbing gods were smiling - perfect weather and an empty campsite. With an hour or two of daylight left we headed over to Malemute and bagged a couple of 5.8ish bolted slabs and a really nice 5.10 crack on toprope before we sacked out.
Next morning we headed up to the bulletheads. I had never been there before and was eager to check out some new parts of the Chief. We started with a 5.8 crack, Slot Machine. I found the opening moves to be hard and unprotected. With much whining I eventually established myself in the main crack and had no trouble with the rest of the route. Then we headed left to Cream of White Mice, a 5.9. Leon took the first pitch - a bolted arete leading to a traverse into a crack. I got off easy - a simple pitch of dike hiking just like Snake Dike. The last pitch was the crux - we set gear about 20 feet over the belay and then Leon traversed on friction over to the next crack system. A blind move into a small stance and then a tricky dihedral to the top.
Next we headed to Smoke Bluffs for some short climbs. We wandered around randomly, finding that the map in the guidebook was not the best way to locate some of the formations. I led the worlds hardest 5.8 - some trivial little overhanging crack that looked really easy. Then a couple of routes at Pixie Rock. Then a visit to the Octopus Garden. All the climbs looked pretty good but were always harder than they looked due to the bottoming nature of the cracks. Feeling pretty well spanked we headed back for camp.
The next day we went for a bigger route - Snake, a 5.9 on the Apron. This was a really nice route - lots of good friction / thin crack climbing with decent pro and great exposure. Leon led first pitch: a trivial traverse over to a big corner. I got a nice corner pitch and then Leon led a traverse left out of the corner to the next crack system. Some seriously dicey friction with a potential swing made me glad Leon had this one. I took a very nice dihedral / slab pitch and then Leon took the crux - a dihedral to a very cool traverse under a big roof. There was almost no handhold so the traverse was very insecure. Fortunately a big tree gave the leader good protection. One last pitch and we were up. A long scramble led is to the base of a small apron at the very top of the big apron. I talked Leon into a 5.9 with 80 foot runouts (sucker!). He stayed calm the whole way and made it look casual. I took a much better protected 5.8 and virtually ran up it. We hiked down along the base of the Chief and when Leon saw "Seasoned in the Sun", a 5.10 finger crack, he had to do it. He managed to scrape up it with a couple of hangs and I followed cleanly. That was it - back to Seattle after 23 excellent granite pitches.
After my little visit with Bill Gates I headed south to Portland by way of Spokane and Pullman. I managed to see Nina, Dennis and all of the kids and was treated to a tour of the Wazoo campus, including the Computer Science department where I left a calling card on Curtis Dyerson's door. I gave talks at OGI and Willamette and then visited Suzanne and Kyle that evening. Zan is still working with the Forest Service is doing quite well. She and Kyle are renovating their house so I wasn't able to stop by there.
Claude, Leslie, and Jessica were at Broughton Bluff in Portland the next day. I had never climbed there before and the routes were surprisingly good on solid basaltic columns. Leslie had led a 5.9 and I followed her with no problem after which we toproped a much harder route that I couldn't quite get. Then Leslie's Evil Plan kicked in. She took me over to an alleged 5.8 that indeed looked quite reasonable. I was soon at the crux and had absolutely no clue what to do. I spent the better part of an hour trying different combinations but just couldn't quite get it. Finally a bizarre chimney / layback move worked and I was on top. Leslie was delighted to see me agonize so much over a mere 5.8 but her fun ended when they got a phone call for a potential rescue. We pulled the rope and headed back.
For the final day of climbing, I managed to talk Mark and Melanie into letting me introduce their kids, Ben and Harry, to outdoor climbing. Claude and Leslie volunteered to be mountain guides for us and we headed for an area high above Yacolt. We met at a campground after getting thoroughly lost on the drive up due to a missing sign and then we all headed up a long dirt road toward the crag. We never would have found this place without our native guides! We pulled over at a seemingly random spot in the road and a small outcrop of volcanic rock appeared immediately under us, just seconds from the car.
We suited Ben up first. With Claude belaying, we lowered and climbed the top easy section of the route to see how Ben handled the exposure. Ben had no problems and we decided to hike to the bottom and do the whole thing. Mark came down the loose scree to take pictures and soon Ben had bagged his first real rock climb.
Harry decided he wanted a turn too and we took a second go at the route. Harry was quite determined not to let his older brother show him up and he climbed quite well. This whole affair was a lesson for those who work in the Yale CS department: if I can't get to you, I'll get your kids! Poor Melanie was quite glad when we finished up - standing around at the edge of a large cliff with your kids around wasn't her cup of tea. Afterwords, we all hiked along a ridge overlooking the Columbia River Valley and had some great views of the volcanoes.
Shortly after returning from Seattle I was back out west again for the Access Fund Grass Roots Gathering, a conference for climbing organizations. I padded the schedule with a number of climbing days and took off for Denver.
I had the afternoon to kill after flying in and headed to Boulder to meet Cynthia. After an extended debate we finally chose Dream Canyon, the area above Boulder Falls. We chose a sport 5.8 on the left of Dream Dome but I didn't count the routes correctly and ventured onto a 5.11 by mistake. Oddly enough the 5.8 and 5.11 looked about the same from below. After that we hit a pair of 5.9s at the Zen Garden Wall - Time Traveler and Shape Shifter. Both were short but really fun on great rock.
The next day was Sept 11 - my folks 49th anniversary. They were busy in the morning so I snick out to El do with George Bell. George really wanted to do the Bulge - the site of my 40' ground fall over 25 years ago. I hadn't been on the route since and was interested to see what it was like. I started leading the first pitch when raindrops began to lightly pelt us. An omen. I backed off and we started down but once I got off the the rock it let up and we decided to try something less committing. I jumped on Calypso and had a great time on the first pitch. Instead of doing the second pitch George stepped right onto Reggae - a 5.8 climb I had never done. This proved to be a superb pitch with some great crack climbing at the crux. I led a quick, easy pitch to the top and we were done with the Wind Tower. There was still time for one more route so we caught the first pitch of Werk Supp (5.8) on the Bastille. George and I agreed that this is the best 5.8 pitch in Eldo and, to make things even better, a 60m rope takes you right back to the ground. Here's George's picture: http://www.climbingboulder.com/community/album/3113.html.
That afternoon, Mom, Dad, and Alan joined me for a drive to Estes. We hiked the climbers trail at Lumpy over to the meadow below the Book - that was perfect for Mom's bad knees. Then we stopped in at the Y camp to register for the Access Fund meeting and went to dinner in Estes to celebrate.
The meeting had the afternoon off and In a fit of insanity Leslie and I made a run for Lumpy. The problem was that I had tickets for the symphony with my folks so we had only 2.5 hours to climb. We jogged in to the Pear and jumped on Le Chaim / Chrome Plated. We didn't have a guidebook and my most recent ascent was probably 20 years ago so I really have no idea what route I was on or where I should have gone. Anyway, I did a lot of traversing to find the easiest line and everything went OK but it took longer than I wanted and we had to bail at the tree on top of the second pitch. I made it back to Denver just in time.
The meeting was quite fun - I posted a long report at http://raggedmtn.org/phpBB2/viewtopic.php?t=137 that has all of the details. After the meeting was over I picked Gary Sax up at the airport and switched back to climbing mode.
On Sunday I headed out to Lumpy again, this time joined by Leslie, Lew Buchholz, Gary, and Alex. Lew was one of my original climbing partners back in high school - we've been climbing together for over 30 years now. We arrived early enough to bag parking spots and headed for the Left Book. I grabbed White Whale (5.7) with Gary and Lew while Alex and Leslie jumped on Hiatus (5.7). Both of these routes are slabby cracks on perfect rock. Since we were on parallel routes, I was able to get great action shots of Alex and Leslie.
Back at the base we decided to split up. I gave Alex and Leslie perfect, foolproof beta for J crack and then grabbed the first pitch of Melvin's Wheel (5.8) with Lew and Gary. Melvin's is a great route! I had forgotten how nice the first pitch is. This was a bit harder than White Whale and Lew had a bit of trouble with the small roof but all in all it was just the right difficulty. A good rap anchor let us bail easily to the base.
Lew and Gary had climbed enough so we all headed over to see what was up on J crack. Arriving at the Book I found Leslie battling up Femp, not J-Crack. They had ignored my perfect beta and chosen to trade perfect thin fingers (Leslie's favorite) for strenuous fist with bits of slab thrown in. Alex had taken a 20' fall at the top crux, much to Leslie's surprise. They gave me a hard time about bad beta but damn - that crack was perfectly straight! I said "J" crack, dammit!
Anyway, after struggling up I had Mike lower Leslie and jumped on the climb myself. Damn - it was a lot of work! Why hadn't Alex watched Sesame Street and learned about the letter J? Why? Why?
We headed up to the cave and found a huge crown but somehow Alex talked his way into the cave ahead of everyone else. Except he wussed and I had to show the young whippersnapper just how to use the crucial butt hold. That was it for the day - Lew, Gary, and I had a nice dinner and returned to Denver.
Vedawoo. Offwidth. Man-eating cracks. Fun!
But Rob Kelman wussed again - something about a book he's writing. We stopped by and picked up a preprint of the new Heel and Toe chapter on Blair and headed for Wyoming. A certain amount of time was spent wandering around lost - Rob likes to put lines on his map that denote trails that ought to be there, not ones that really exist. But all was well in the end and we found Triple Overhang, a 5.6? 5.7? on the northwest side of Blair I. No real problems except finding the descent.
We passed a nice hand crack and decided to give it a shot. It turned out to be easier than it looked and a lot of fun. Gary taped up and managed to get up his first real Vedawoo crack without losing any blood. We scrambled down again and headed to the main area where Dave Fay was waiting. In spite of his shoulder problems he was willing to take another shot at climbing.
We headed up to the top of the clamshell - a significant ascent in itself and I actually got Gary to lead E O Friction, a 5.5 (felt harder) slab. We also toproped the lieback and I led Coldfinger. We then drove into Laramie for dinner with Amy and Sam (a totally cute kid!).
Last day: Eldorado again! I took Gary up Wind Ridge, a totally Gary Approved Route, and then met George Bell for the Bulge, take 2. I was in a hurry so he led the first two pitches as one. Arriving at the scene of my old fall I discovered 1) there was a fixed pin right under me that I had neglected to clip before I took the big fall, and 2) I was a total wuss - the move was only 5.6 or so. Oh well. This time I had a toprope and all was easy.
George led up to the bolt, clipped, and traversed about 20' along a
ledge, He placed a piece and headed for the belay. My turn - up to
the bolt. Unclip. Contemplate 20' swing. Reclip, rehearse move.
Easy. Unclip, attempt move. Hard. Scared. Back off. Reclip,
Rehearse. Unclip. Wuss out. Reclip. Rehearse again. Whine. Pump
out. What was George thinking? Probably something about
never picking up partners on the internet again. Finally I figured
out a plan. Unclip. Downclimb. At the belay. Straight under the
pro. Straight up a blank wall. Hard!!!! Fall. Step left. Hard!!!
Rest on tension. Make moves. Rest. Make more moves. Rest again.
Arrive at the piece - whew! A quick lead to the top and we're done.
See me at the belay below the bulge:
So that's it. Until next time ....