Mark & Benoit Discover Sport Climbing

Rumney, New Hampshire

The day dawned clear and bright, and I awoke to the sounds of hundreds of birds welcoming the morning. I peered out from the front porch of Camelot, one of two cabins owned and operated by the MIT Outing Club, where we had slept, and noticed a mother Robin a few feet away feeding her nest full o' young-uns. Benoit was still dead asleep in spite of the chorus surrounding us.

Around midnight, an intruder had crept through the woods toward the cabin and tried to break in through the back door. I was wide awake by the time I realized it was not Benoit just getting up to take a leak. "Benoit! BENOIT!" I whispered hoarsely. Snore, snore. The intruder was now coming around to the front. "Benoit! There's somebody out there!" Snore. I saw a dim form come into view. I poised, ready to attack with my sack  of bagels.

"Hi, this is Chris Barrington-Leigh from the Outing Club," a voice called out.
"Oh...uhhh, we're from the Outing Club too," I responded weakly, "but we didn't have a key so we slept on the porch." Another snore from Benoit. He finally emerged from his coma briefly to move out of the way when Chris unlocked the door. I later came to the conclusion that Chris had probably been more frightened of us than we were of him. No telling what kind of inbred weirdoes you might find out here in the middle of the woods.
We munched on yogurt, bananas, and my bagels/weapons of defense, and hopped in the Tank for the five-minute drive to Rumney. The Tank careened down hairpin turns toward the valley as I gripped my seat in fright, but Benoit expertly guided the two-ton monster through the roller-coaster ride and we arrived safely.

We pulled in at The Meadows, and discovered the place was already getting crowded even though it was only nine in the morning. We wandered around looking for something interesting that was also open, and decided on a 5.8 or 5.9 route that some guy was about to solo. Hmmm. Well, he didn't seem to have any trouble with it, as he returned intact fifteen minutes later, and I prepared to lead. It looked like it was well-protected on bolts, as are most routes at Rumney, but I took a few Stoppers to add to my quickdraws just in case. I had to pause and downclimb a bit near the start, not unusual for the first lead of the day, but other than that, the route went smoothly. Three bolts and a couple of pins, and I was at the chains. I rapped down, cleaning as I went, so Benoit could also have the pleasure of leading the climb. This became a standard pattern for the day, so each of us got to lead pretty much everything.

We chose the Holderness School Corner (5.8) as our next goal, and it was Benoit's lead. He racked up with everything but my #4 Camalot, and started up the beautiful dihedral. For some reason, he had to pause at one spot for an uncharacteristically long time. He would place one piece of protection after another, but wasn't satisfied with any of them. Finally, with a #3 Camalot and two nuts all within three feet of each other, he continued, having no more worries for the rest of the route. Benoit found some nice jams on the way, while I led it mostly by stemming with a little laybacking.

The next obvious route was the Holderness School Arete (5.10b), which could easily be toproped from the same anchor. Neither one of us really wanted to lead it, even though I had already done so on my previous trip to Rumney. Amazingly, both Benoit and I had clean toprope redpoints of the route, and we congratulated each other for our awesome display of power. Yeah, well, that was good, but leading it would be a different story, I'm sure.

Our egos being freshly reinforced by this success, we deemed ourselves worthy to attempt the ridiculously overhanging No Money Down (5.10c). During the four thunderstorms that went through on my last trip here, small crowds would gather at the base of this route for shelter. We sized up the route, and I contemplated leading the thing. I was able to stand on a boulder and reach over to place a #3 Camalot and a good nut, so it looked reasonable, but our better judgment took over and we set up a toprope. The rock here swirls and sweeps into wild formations, offering nice jugs on which to haul. And haul I did! It felt like a jungle-gym as I swung from hold to hold, stopping at a couple of well-situated rests to catch my breath. I approached the crux, which was just above the solitary bolt, and went a little too far left. Can't.....hold....on....much.....longer... And I was off, taking a short pendulum and ending up swinging disappointedly at the end of the rope. I traversed back to the bolt, found the jug I had been looking for, and powered through. At this point I was nearly done, but needed to traverse left in a half-crouch under the roof to the exit notch. This proved to be the hardest section for me, and I fell twice before finally getting it. I was still psyched to have reached the top of the route.

Benoit then monkeyed up to the bolt, but got too pumped and asked for a lower. I wanted to try the direct variation, and attacked it without slowing down once. (This was a good thing, because this variation offered no rests whatsoever) Ecstatic, I pulled through the final moves. I was completely psyched to have done this route, even though it was only with a toprope. Unfortunately, Benoit couldn't find success on his second try, so we went off looking for some more relaxing routes.

We began with the next three routes to the right of No Money Down (excluding the 11c that looked exceedingly ominous). We both led each route in succession, rapping and cleaning our gear on the way down. These three went at 5.8, 5.7+, and 5.7, respectively, but we all agreed that the middle one was harder than the 5.8, and Benoit even thought the 5.7 was the most difficult of all three. I think the ratings at Rumney are a bit dubious in certain cases.

We finished off the day with Rhinobucket (5.10b), which, in spite of its gross muddy start, is quite a nice route. We figured that ten pitches was enough for one day, and decided to head back to Camelot even though it was only 6:30. We finished off a six-pack in the gathering dusk beside a crackling fire, and slept to the pleasant pattering of raindrops in the forest.