Red Rocks: day 3 (off-route extravaganza)

Starting up C11H17NO3
Originally uploaded by slampoud

On the third day of Christmas I was feeling much better. The second day had found me at maybe 20% my normal energy levels, but by the third day I was up to maybe 40%, which was respectable. We decided to go check out some short multi-pitch routes at Pine Creek Canyon, so we saddled up our packs and headed out. While later in the day climbing would prove to be not so hard on me, hiking with packs was really rough, going to show that it was stamina and cardiovascular performance that the sinus infection was compromising.

We had decided to look at routes on Mescalito, and got pretty excited about Cookie Monster as we looked at it from below. But we overshot the approach, and ended up at the base of Cat in the Hat, then turned back and went up the little escarpment to the base of Cookie Monster. Because Cookie Monster was going to end at the top of the second pitch of Cat in the Hat, and require us to rappel down that side of the massif, with our packs left behind at the base of the climb, I wasn't too keen on it. We decided to try the climb a couple cracks to the right. I proceeded to misidentify the crack as Pauligk Pillar (which in fact is on the right hand side of the big jumble in the middle of the face), and memorize the beta for that. As it turns out, the climb we got on was C11H17NO3 (the chemical formula for mescalin). There was something disturbing going on the climb we'd chosen: we could see bailing gear all over the place. Just from the base, we could see a sling with a biner wrapped around a horn of some sort, presumably for rappelling, and a jumble of slings a little to the left. Should that have been a warning to us? I don't know. We pressed on. The start of the climb was a little spooky, slightly overhanging and a little awkward, but then it turned into a chimney of sorts with good holds everywhere. Ben made his way up, and at some point, out of sight, stopped and belayed me up. On the way up I found another nut, in a bomber placement for bailing, and Ben said there was yet another one a little further up. When I arrived to where Ben was he explained we weren't at a proper belay station, but the spot between us and the belay tree looked unprotectable, a polished face in a chimney too large to stem. It sketched Ben out, but I saw all the holds, I knew they were good, and I was confident I wasn't going to fall out of any of them, so I went on. In my mind the sketchiest thing about going ahead in this manner, to complete the pitch, was that I wasn't carrying a full rack. I only had a few stoppers, a couple slings and a cordelette. On the way up I slung a horn, in kind of Hail Mary fashion, since I wasn't too sure it would hold, and placed a nut, and there I was. I belayed Ben up and we assessed the situation. At this point the beta I'd memorized (for the wrong route, remember?) was making absolutely no sense. But from where we were we could see three or four sling jumbles off to climber's right, so we decided to go that way. In retrospect we think that was the second pitch of the "regular" route, on quite soft and sandy rock. We went up a pitch that way, and the quality of the rock did not seem to be improving. Thankfully we had tons of bailing options to choose from, so bail we did. Perplexed down at the base, we sorted out my misidentification mistake, rested and had some food, patted ourselves on the back for returning in one piece and with booty (a sling, a biner, a couple quick links, and we could have had two more nuts!), and considered our options.

Since Pauligk's Pillar was the only short multi-pitch route with a star around that area, I really wanted to find it. We struck off counter-clockwise around Mescalito, and sure enough we located the route and made it to the base. By then that side of Mescalito was in the shade, and it looked vaguely ominous. I looked up at the thing, and I really really wanted to climb it. Ben looked up, and he really really didn't want to lead it. So we stood there, studying the problem: the first few moves off the ground were truly scary. I could identify where each hand and foot should go, but there were no alternatives, and for the first move, if anything blew, it would all blow. I thought I could do it. Further up it looked steep, but featured and actually quite varied. This was not just one crack in a dihedral, there were a couple crack systems running through it, and the face on the right had lots of holds. So I decided to lead it. The guide called for doubles to three inches, so I took everything, including the #4. The start was a mind game: it was all about getting on the holds, realizing they would hold, realizing they would not hold forever, making a plan and executing the next move. If I snoozed or froze I'd fall right on top of Ben's head and we'd tumble down off the belay ledge. So I did it. Maybe three moves up I could see a placement for a hand sized cam, so I took it: my Jesus piece. Then I left that whole mind game behind me and got on with the climb. This was 170 ft long climb, so I knew I'd have to ration my pro. I didn't want to run it out too much, so I decided on a strategy for placements: place when the length of the fall starts getting unacceptable, or to protect cruxes. At first that meant only first criterion was getting used: the climb was athletic, all steep, but very juggy. I wasn't planning on blowing any of my cranks, and I was following another little rule I'd developed: no more than one foot on those strange face plate holds, because, while they were excellent holds, I did not trust them to take my whole weight and hold. I got to sling a couple little pillars of rock, attached both at the top and bottom, formed by water eating all the rock around them. Those were fun. Then there was a chimney to my left which I avoided by going on the face to the right. Rationing pro, thinking really hard about what to place and where, and trying, for the life of me, to find a place to put something passive, a nut or a tri-cam, but in the end relying almost completely on cams and my two slung runnels. Then things got a little more serious. Just before the belay station I ran into two crux moves. The first was in a section where the dihedral was now a proper dihedral, left side polished, right side with a couple features, crack in the middle. I could fit a jam, so I protected above it, and made the move. The next was just below the belay, where there was an off-width in the left, and the face on the right was kind of messy. I was standing on a ledge and my options were to go into the off-width or stay outside it and stem on various broken pieces. I reached up and stuck a #1 in a side crack above me, then, for the first time, made a move not knowing what my next move would be. I managed the whole thing without going into the off-width, the prospect of which had terrified me. The belay ledge was big enough for one foot. The anchor was a hex, a nut, and a sling wedged behind a rock that was, as far as I could see, not a chockstone. I don't like hanging belays under the best of circumstances (probably because I'm not so hot on my harness), but at the end of my third trad lead, while trying to keep how desperate that all could have been safely tucked away at the back of my mind, then I really don't like hanging belays. So I set it up. I clipped everything, and I made a spot to manage the rope, and I triple-checked everything. Then I started bringing Ben up. It was getting darker; I didn't have a watch, but I knew that since we had to get out of the parking lot by 7 we probably wouldn't have time for the second pitch. It looked like more of the same anyway. And as I sat there belaying Ben up, the whole climb started sinking in. Climbing it had been fine, step by step, all secure and thought out, placements were good, dandy. Reliving it my head, contingencies and all, was another matter all together. When Ben came into view it was like sunshine. I swear, I'm not a sap, but it had been a long lead, into a steep, relatively dark corner, and when the guy that usually sets up my anchors, and double-checks my knots came into view, I wanted to whoop with joy. He got up to the belay, ahem, not quite ledge... foothold? Took a look up at the second pitch and knew he didn't want to lead it. I said we didn't have time anyway. We set up the rap, and at this point I was very grateful for his fresh energy, since the contingency loop in the back of my mind was sapping mine. We got down, and the route looked scary on the rap down. We got the ropes out without getting them stuck. Holy fuck, I pulled that off! I know we're only talking 5.7, but that was a proud moment for me, a very proud lead.