Three Days at the Gunks

Patriot's Day weekend: the 100th Boston Marathon was happening all over my neighborhood and I was more than overjoyed to be somewhere else, even though miserable weather was predicted for most of the three days Alli and I would be at the Gunks. Friday night we arrived at a reasonable hour and crashed in the leaky AMC cabin under intermittent downpourings. Saturday morning dawned gray and dreary, but after a late breakfast and rampant laziness, it looked dry enough to actually do an easy route. So, Gelsa we did. Once again, we pondered the reasoning behind rating low fifth-class climbs. How do you rate the overhanging jugfest third pitch of Gelsa 5.3 when the 2nd pitch is 5.4? Maybe you have to do them blindfolded in the rain to really find out how hard they are. Nonetheless, Gelsa was a stellar climb.

Amazingly, we were able to continue climbing in spite of the fact that rain sprinkles seemed to keep returning throughout the day. Ken's Crack was dry, and provided a nice sandbagged lead for both Alli and me. The weather was keeping the permatoprope off of some of the Uberfall moderates at least.

Next we wandered down the cliff in search of dry rock (a pattern of behavior that would persist throughout the weekend). Ant's Line looked reasonably dry, and I convinced myself to give it a shot. I organized my rack, studied the route, and took a significant amount of time to focus. This turned out to be a bit of overkill, because I felt surprisingly solid and efficient on the route. I placed a piece of gear six feet below the crux and didn't even bother to protect the crux itself.

With a toprope now set up on Ant's Line, Alli was eager to jump on the adjacent overhanging face, Ent's Line (5.11-). She even brought gear to see if a lead attempt would be reasonable, then proceeded with a valiant effort, reading the crux sequence correctly before finally reaching power failure on the final moves before the route joins Ant's Line. I put in my own meager attempt, succeeding with the crux after falling and receiving beta, then falling once again on those final moves. This is definitely one of the most pumpy routes I've been on!

Before heading into town for one of the most excellent post-climbing dinners I've ever had (Main St. Bistro, by the way), I was calmly taking a leak at the side of the overlook parking lot when I saw and felt headlights framing me against the gathering dusk.

"If they want to watch me take a piss, that's their problem," I thought, and casually finished my business. I turned around and noted that the observer in question was a New Paltz policeman, who then proceeded to harass me for a while.

"You can get arrested for that, you know," he informed me gravely. I was most sincerely penitent.

That night the rain pounded unceasingly on the tent. The next day dawned clear and cool, but the rock simply refused to dry out. Figuring she could at least lead a wet 5.5, Alli started up Frog's Head. Afterward she said that was the scariest 5.5 she had ever led. The crux was so nasty that I was even a bit scared to follow. We moseyed down the cliff looking for something a little more pleasant, but didn't hit dry rock until we got to the Yellow Wall. Some guys were toproping Scary Area and The Sting and said we could get rides on their ropes. Alli would have flashed Scary Area but her foot popped off at an inopportune time. Both of us sent it on our second tries. Alli felt worse on The Sting -- she just needed to get her frame of mind right, and it definitely wasn't right. She couldn't make herself dyno for anything, and lowered off in a foul mood. By this time I was feeling pretty crappy myself, and it was getting friggin' cold again. I gave 7 or 8 tries on the first dyno, couldn't do it, then half-heartedly climbed up to the final monstrous dyno from hell. Another 7 or 8 tries and I had it. Great. Need to get warm.

Day three. FINALLY! Warm. Beautiful. SUN. Why couldn't it have been like this the first two days? I cruised up Jackie in the sunshine, then Alli stuck a hawk feather in her hair and led Classic under a bright blue sky, which included a most excellent feature in its eastern portion, the sun. All good things must eventually become less good though, and as I started up the first (runout!) pitch of Morning After, Alli calmly said she was stung by a wasp, then less calmly proceeded to freak out (having never been stung before and not knowing whether she was allergic), but she still managed to join me at the belay and lead the next pitch. I finished the third pitch in a sudden hurricane-force gale.

P-38. Alli was ready, sort of. The first moves gave her some trouble, but after a few false starts she began leading the pitch for real. The gear was good, but she was taking her time placing it, and time was taking its toll. After the crux, with only a couple of hard moves left, Alli took a whipper. She fell about ten feet, but the baby size 0 Flexi-Friend stayed put…just a little too well, as it turns out. All the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't get the damn thing out of the crack. That was the first time either of us had fixed a piece of gear on a route. Oh well, it's was booty from my Whitney-Gilman Ridge climb anyway.