ing much protection, but rational thoughts overcame me as I faced a potentially long fall. Finding an anchor proved tough; a crack joining the slab and a roof next to me contained enough moss to start a Synergy House garden despite the fact it was only wide enough to accept a micronut. Standing above one of those shallowly wedged micronuts, I fiddled to place another piece. Physically and mentally on edge, I recalled that this was not how I had envisioned the first pitch from below. With my anchor holding both of us, I was relaxed by the mindset of knowing Mike would be going up next and I would get the mental benefit of belaying and then following the next pitch. The next couple pitches remained straightforward as Mike and I swapped leads up and slightly overhanging overlaps in the rock, which made for super fun, continuous, exposed, and, most importantly, enjoyable climbing. Before one of Mike’s leads we realized we were a bit right of the route and decided to traverse towards an interesting looking chimney. The traverse involved a downclimb over a ledge and climbing a polished, hold-less face. We eventually reached the wide, blocky chimney and found water seeping through on both sides. Although some friction was compromised with the moisture, a solid number one camalot up high provided peace of mind to top out onto easier terrain and run out the rest of the pitch. After the first pitch, I couldn’t have asked for more, arriving at a ledge with multiple bomber placements. I might as well have been in a hammock on the Worner quad. Mike led up once more at which point we decided to simul-climb for a while until things became steeper again. I stopped at the foot of such a vertical horizon thinking we were within a rope-length of the summit and urged Mike to take us one more pitch to the top. It ended up being two, but I wasn’t too far off. I belayed Mike up to share the enjoyment of what was to be the first of three almost equally prominent summits on the day. At the summit we un-roped and climbed over easy 5th class, but demanding and terrifyingly exposed, terrain to the second of the Double Cone’s two summits. Having reached the two summits, we decided to top it off with one more. At the top of the Grand Couloir, the saddle between the Single and Double Cone summits, we roped up once more for two pitches of climbing to our final summit and to cap off our foray into part of the Remarkables Grand Traverse. At the top, we un-roped but left the climbing shoes on as we descended the rock ridge leading down to the snowy flanks below. We ignored the temptation to rappel off of a series of single bolts
down a long sixty-five degree snow couloir and continued down some 4th class terrain on the ridge. Eventually the rock ran out and again we were changing footwear on a measly ledge above a forty-five degree snowfield, which like any good snowfield had bluffs below. Since we had set out for a rock route, we saved weight by figuring we could make it down with one rope, one ice axe, and sneakers. Traversing out, the presence of the sharp cliffs loomed below. Mike went first, plunging the ice axe with care as he took each slippery step. I followed, kicking steps with my mountaineering boots and using a nut tool in each gloveless hand, jabbing at soft snow for any purchase. I looked silly, but I’ve always thought that silly’s my best look. With the excitement behind us, we hiked around to retrieve gear, and almost twelve hours later we found ourselves ready for dinner and sleep back at Mike’s campervan. [Editor’s Note] Peter’s story from NZ is included in this section as it was the only story from outside of the Americas. [Facing page] Looking out at the ridge traverse. [This page] Peter leading up some vegetaged slabs. Mike Sullivan.
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