and overall the meal more closely resembled what someone might eat at Oktoberfest. Across the canyon, we watched as headlamps caressed the opposing wall in the quiet starry night. What route are they on? They’ve been penduluming for an hour. Can they not find the rappel anchors? Our worries, however, quickly turned to exuberance as resounding yells of “Happy Thanksgiving!” were shouted back and forth across the black expanse. Our second day on the route felt like a true day in the alpine with cold late-fall temperatures and some very exposed climbing that included an airy free-hanging jug up the overhanging headwall. My nerves engaged as I entered the void. If Joe lowers me out too fast, he’ll send me on the King Swing. It’s just air up here. I’m climbing into space. I really shouldn’t make it sound too bad, though, because I ended up enjoying the exposure plenty! Joe followed, and met Dave and I at the belay, where we then endured a cold twohour hanging belay as Dave aided up a thin seam that splits the otherwise blank headwall. The suffering was only temporarily relieved when Joe hung his large Jolly Roger flag below us and a large influx of cars began stopping below to catch a glimpse of what they thought was probably a death defying
feat. It was just like The Garden, only higher up. “The tourons really enjoyed that one”, said Joe. Joe took the final hard C3 pitch and we rapped down quickly to the bivy ledge as night approached. I can’t remember if we just chucked the pig (haul bag) down to the road or lowered it. I think the former sounds much cooler, though, and when recounting the climb I try to imagine our large grey bag’s graceful descent, sailing down to the road in a blidning fury. Unfortunately, Dave’s rope got stuck on one of the rappels and we were forced to cut it due to the darkness. Despite the mishap, we were soon down and walking through the canyon back to the car. To cap off the adventure, we stopped in Virgin for dinner where we let loose at an Asian buffet. Then it was back to the middle of nowhere for another roadside bivy in the desert. [Facing page] Erik enjoys his first free hanging jug. Joe Forrester [This page, left] Joe Forrester at a hanging belay. Who said the alpine and the desert can’t be similar? Erik Rieger [Right] The Jolly Roger hanging high in all its wallpirate glory. Joe Forrester CCAJ 31