Gunks Trip #4

A weekend of challenging climbing began with my lead of the first pitch of Pas de Deux, a thought-provoking and slightly disconcerting lead, especially as a warm-up for the day. I took my time and carefully worked out the moves, and happily made it to the belay ledge. The second pitch (5.7) went well, and we moved on to Pink Laurel (5.9), a beautiful line up pink rock and overhangs. Dave had absolutely no trouble leading this one, and I kept wondering when I would get to the crux. Compare this to M.F. and there's no question that M.F. is the harder and better route, but it's still a nice climb. I led the second pitch through an overhang on some dubious blocks, and that was the end of that.

Before we could hike to M.F., we were lured in by an intriguing roof next to Roddy. It turns out this was a 5.10 variation called Slightly Roddy, and Dave quickly went up to fix a toprope. Of course I let Dave go first to work out the whole sequence. He climbed up to the roof, noticed that the holds were not so good, tried a toe-hook, found more holds that sucked, and swung off into space. One more attempt ended in Dave hanging at the end of his rope, then on the third try he found the good holds and powered easily over the roof. I went up to have a look, tried the first few moves, backed down, and then finally went for it, mimicking Dave's sequence to a T and being rewarded with success. This is definitely a nice problem to do if you're in the area.

We at last headed toward M.F. for my first attempt at leading a Gunks 5.9. I was a little bit nervous, but I felt good starting up and I liked my pro. I made it to the roof and got a little bit wigged out because one of the crucial holds was wet and I kept slipping on it. That's when I began to sweat. I clipped the pin under the roof, then awkwardly pushed my weight onto my right foot, which was stemmed wide onto the nose, and pulled the rest of my body back into balance. The first crux was over, and I climbed up a few feet to place some pro under the real crux. I was a bit shaky going over the bulge, and did a quick deadpoint up to the good handhold. Luckily it worked and my first 5.9 lead at the Gunks was done.

Dave was blessed with the opportunity to lead the second pitch, which he had never done before, so he worked his way around the corner on the right, then up over an overhang and out of sight. After what seemed like a long time, all the rope was out, so I took him off belay even though I hadn't heard anything from him. I put on my shoes and finally heard "On belay!" so I started up. I severely underestimated this overhang. I got up underneath it, reached up to a great edge, hung there while leisurely taking out the pro, then suddenly realized I had just been wasting my energy because there were more difficult moves ahead. I reached the next handhold, but then couldn't muster the strength to pull up to the one above it, which I needed to actually clear the roof. Even a heel-hook didn't get me through, and suddenly I found myself hanging several feet below the overhang. Dave was too far away for me to offer any kind of explanation. I figured he would know I was having trouble by the dead weight on the rope. I tried once more and almost fell again, but caught myself at the last second and downclimbed until I had a good rest stance. On my third attempt I tried some subtle variations on body positioning that allowed me success at last in spite of my waning strength. The pitch turned out to be a long one, and I would have really enjoyed the rest of it had it not been for my aching arms. I was thankful to finally reach the belay.

At this point we had two options: climb the third pitch up easy ground and do two rappels, or try rapping off a handy tree that looked like it had never been rappelled from. In my exhausted state, I wanted down quickly, and the tree was solid, so we tried it. The rope ends were about five feet from the ground, but with stretch they made it easily. A guide at the base seemed interested in our rappel station because he had never seen anyone rap from that location, and it was quite handy. He said he might put some slings and rap rings there in the future.

I was almost totally wiped after this route, and even started mumbling something about the swimming hole although it was only 5:00. Dave was having none of it, and was gung-ho to lead a ten. I grudgingly followed him over to Try Again (5.10) and belayed him with my aching arms. He made it up to a ledge fifteen feet up and discovered an alarming lack of pro, but soon solved the problem and worked his way up to an overhang. He went up to inspect, downclimbed, then hung on his second effort. He was just a little bit intimidated I guess, because after a short rest he cruised up and over, finishing his first Gunks 5.10 lead.
I was a little doubtful that my strength reserves would be sufficient for this route, but figured I could always dog my way up if I had to. I worked up to the roof with relative ease, then unashamedly hung trying to get over the roof. I changed my footwork and used a layback on my second attempt, and soon joined Dave at the belay. It actually hadn't felt that bad, so we set up a toprope on Coexistence (5.10+) and Dave lowered me down.

Dave had been on the route before, and kept making comments about how great it was on his way up. "It's the M.F. of 5.10's," he exclaimed. I was soon experiencing it for myself, and could only agree that this is a top-quality route. I flashed the first section, then dogged my way over the roof on poor holds. I think I may be able to get the redpoint on my next attempt, if I'm fresh.

Even Dave's enthusiasm was sent to the back burner after Coex. The light was fading and we still had a meeting to attend at Split Rock, our favorite swimming hole.

We started the next day under threat of impending rain. Various fellow climbers' reports indicated that rain was practically guaranteed at some as yet unspecified point in the day. This only encouraged Dave and I to get on the rock sooner, and we hiked in to the High E Buttress to do Cascading Crystal Kaleidoscope. This was the second time on the trip that we correctly identified the nearest cutoff trail and went straight to the base of our intended climb. We were beginning to feel like Gunks locals.

I led up the "Bockmann Variation" of the first pitch, which offers better climbing and less protection than the 5.5 regular route. Basically I just went straight up to the GT Ledge. Dave opted for the direct start of the second pitch (a variation that seems to be more commonly used than the regular route). Following the dicey traverse under that overhang only reinforced my belief that this section sucks. I led the last pitch of CCK while Dave snapped pictures of the awesome panorama. As he followed my lead, Dave was given a running stream of beta from a guy down on the GT Ledge whom we later met. Charlie, it turns out, loves nothing more than to hear himself talk, whether it's annoyingly specific beta, tales of three-hundred-pound women rappelling down caves in Guam, or anecdotes from his love life.
We rapped back down to the GT Ledge in order to do the direct variation (5.9). Dave led up the regular 5.7 (not!) start this time, then climbed straight up to join the third pitch on the steep face above. He got up under the roof and methodically climbed his way out and over. It was a great lead, and a fun pitch to follow. Charlie found new respect for Dave, and didn't even offer as much beta this time. Of course, he was busy dishing out beta to his new partner, Jennifer, who was most likely a better climber than he was and certainly needed no advice on the 5.6 pitch they were doing.

As Dave and I set up the rappel again, Charlie regaled us with stories of how in the old days, nobody used to rappel. They would always down-climb Silly Chimney over by High E. Rappelling chews up your rope, etc., etc. He and Jennifer disappeared into the woods in search of Silly Chimney as Dave rapped. Then, wouldn't you know it, here they come again. "Uh, do you guys mind if we rap off your ropes?" Jennifer asked sheepishly. I felt obligated to give them some grief after all the holier-than-thou In-the-Old-Days talk Charlie had been spewing. We all made it safely to the GT Ledge, where I discovered that as I had been offering our ropes to Charlie and Jennifer, Dave had been offering the ropes to two guys who were bailing below us. We set up a long happy caravan, rapping off one by one while listening to Charlie's war stories until everyone was back on the ground again.

I took one look at Dave and knew which route he wanted to do next…Never Never Land (5.10-). With some searching, we found the base of this blank-looking piece of rock, and discovered that this was pretty much a sport climb! A line of pins and bolts followed a very thin crack up about eighty feet. Dave tied in and started up, taking his time and thinking through each of the moves. He was a little shaky through the crux, but kept himself glued on. He reached the top excited about his first on-sight flash of a Gunks 5.10.

I was surprised by the difficulty of this route. The moves are very technical, requiring precise footwork and careful balance. I worked my way up to the crux, and got stuck dead in my tracks. I could not fathom how to go on from here. There was practically nothing for the feet, but there seemed to be even less to hold on to with your hands. I balanced on a tiny ledge for quite a long while trying to figure it out. Finally, I decided that I had to go for it, and stepped up on the most promising micro-granules I could discern with my pocket magnifying glass. Amazingly, I was moving up! This is the only time I've ever felt like I was defying the laws of physics while climbing. My feet stayed pasted to the minuscule nubbins, and I finally reached some holds that looked real. I finished without further adieu, and felt thankful we had been able to do this spectacular climb before the rain began. My only question was this: Where did the minus in "5.10-" come from?

The raindrops started falling before we finished rappelling down on the neighboring party's rope. This party consisted of two women at least in their fifties, but probably sixties, who were climbing 5.10! It was pretty amazing to watch them climb. We got packed up and started down the trail just as the rain started in for real. It came down in sheets, totally soaking everything. As Dave and I marched stoically through the torrent, he made the inevitable pronouncement in his best Lebanese accent: "I feel like a warrior…returning from a war."