moves to the first potential for gear. I cleaned the loose crystals out of a flared crack twenty feet up and placed an over cammed #4 Camalot. I tried to move it, but it was stuck and I was getting pumped, so I down-climbed. I climbed back up and placed a #3 in the flared crack. It was under cammed. Once again I down climbed, but when I dynamically went for the starting hold I felt myself coming off. As I swung out over the abyss of the very steep gully I imagined the cams ripping out of the lousy rock, Jonny and myself tumbling hundreds of feet down the steep gully below. Luckily, I came swinging back, cams still in place, so I climbed back up and finally committed to the next hard section. I was already flash pumped and as I traversed left on decent holds everything I stepped on disintegrated. As I fiddled with the next gear placement, the pump clock was ticking. I began shaking and knew there was no way I could hold on to place anything. “You got it!”, Jonny encouraged. He could tell by the way I kept looking down at my other protection that I did not have it. I was off again. This time I came swinging hard towards Jonny and my face slammed hard against his hipbone. After I humbly handed the lead over to Jonny, he casually brushed aside the loose rock and statically made each move with ease. He was quickly above the steepest climbing only to find that things did not ease up. He built an anchor at the base of an apparently straight forward, straight-in, Turkey Rocks-style crack. I soon learned, though, that the crack was
composed of exfoliating sheets that expanded as if made of cardboard - hand jams became fist jams, finger-locks became bad finger-locks. I won’t get into the details of the climbing because I only remember being scared. I was quite relieved when I reached the end of the pitch without falling. As Jonny climbed more exfoliating rock around a corner he sent down a half dozen meter-scale boulders. I could smell the sharp odor of pulverized rock as he reached the end of the rope. As I prepared to simul-climb rain and lightning filled the sky. I raced through loose rock, massive pricker bushes and unprotected off-widths to keep pace with Jonny. After hiking off and sprinting up the gully to the rim it had begun to grow dark and with dense clouds filled with lightning the canyon looked more foreboding than ever. The next week we came back and completed the Twisted Dylan cleanly and then the next day climbed Journey Through Mirkwood on the Painted Wall in seven hours. [Previous spread] Dan Rothberg (‘11) contemplating the scenery of the Wind River Range, WY. Drew Thayer [Facing page] Tim Gibson on a ledge with the imposing walls of the Black Canyon in the background. [This page] Tim Gibson “riding” a loose block under the crux Roof of Mordor on his Journey Through Mirkwood. Jonathan Schaffer CCAJ 13