Timos I have ever had the pleasure to climb with. The poor guy looked like someone had tortured him with a buzz sander – double cheek gobies, a tattered shirt, and a full core-shot in the rope at his knot. Sitting shakily on top we gave each other a big, yet delicate, hug and looked out over Indian Creek and Canyonlands from one of the most amazing summits in the desert. We then rapped down, drank some whiskey, quickly scampered up Lightning Bolt Cracks, and headed back to camp in hopes of finding cold beer, warm friends, and the sort of debauchery only found in Indian Creek at night. Summary North Six Shooter, Indian Creek, Utah Liquid Sky, III 5.11+; Lightning Bolt Cracks, III 5.11-
Wall Dreams Phil Armstrong (‘07) Early in 2009, I found myself climbing in the gym when my lanky acquaintance, Evan Horvath, asked if I wanted to climb a big wall in Zion a few months from then. Not really knowing any better, I said “Yes.” The wall Evan had picked was a classic, Touchstone Wall. We trained a bit. I’d say we had a grand total of six pitches of basic aid under our belts by the time the trip was upon us. In reality, it wasn’t nearly enough practice to get up the wall with grace and style. Needless to say, things didn’t go very well. After a little scuffle between frustrated partners at a cramped hanging belay on pitch four, down we went, our tail between our legs, humbled by big rock. Fast-forward to earlier this year: spring in Yosemite. The biggest stone around. The plan was to go entirely for free climbing, and to cheer on our friends Wally and Greg durring their successful bid on the proud El Cap line, Mescalito. My partner, Sean and I tagged along on the trip with our friends, Dave and Tori, and got in some amazing single day free climbs. It was a fantastic trip. Being under El Cap and gazing up was surreal. The wall was so huge and the top so far away that it looked like a painting. Still, you could trace it down from the heavens until your hand was actually touching the base. This definitely rekindled my desire for big-walls. It apparently inspired Sean as well, because by the end of the trip he was asking me about my experience in aid climbing. I was psyched to have Sean as a big-wall partner. Besides being my climbing mentor, he’s a strong and collected free climber, always organized at belays and is thinking one step ahead. This is crucial on walls, as at 50
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least half the battle is foreseeing cluster-fucks before they happen. On the plane ride back to Colorado we made a list of all the gear we would need to get our hands on. My sites where set on returning to Zion. While the conditions in Zion are radically different than Yosemite, it is a good gauge for big-wall competence. Strong and hard aid teams can usually get up and off Zion walls in a day using the light and fast “fix and fire” method. No hauling, no ledge, you climb a few pitches the first day, fix your ropes to the base, sleep on the ground, and then the next day you jug your lines and fire to the top in one push. For us however, the plan was to get the full experience of the big-wall and everything it entailed: hauling fat pigs, shouldering huge racks, climbing into the night, and sleeping on a portagledge. I felt like we were really well prepared. Well, at least compared to my last trip to Zion. We had been practicing with the full haul system for the past few months and things had been going fairly smoothly. We had even spent a night on our ledge on a local crag just to get the feel of it and work some kinks out before doing it “for real.” So, we picked a date, got the time off work, and waited for the temps to drop before heading out for the Moonlight Buttress. When the time came, the temps didn’t drop. But the trip was now or never. Thoughts of sunburn and heatstroke clouded my mind. In Zion, we feel like heroes getting onto the tourist-laden bus that will take us up canyon. The tourists gawk at our climbing plans. “Oh, all this gear? Yeah, we’re going to take it up that wall over there.” The approach doesn’t go smoothly. There is no trail. The bushes are very angry and very pointy. We finally get to the base of the buttress and start wandering back and forth like lost Japanese tourists with our topos out, trying to pick out our line above us. It should be obvious; it’s the most coveted line in Zion. After a good hour of tomfoolery we decide we need more beta, maybe an actual picture. So we head back to our packs and stash them, go down, cross the river, get on the bus, and soon we’re on our way back to town. Not heroes anymore, just tourists with wet socks. Back in town, we scour the internet looking for a picture to identify the start of the route. Finally finding one, we head back to the park late to catch a bus down canyon. With no handlamp, I brandish my phone like Triforce as we head back to the wall in search of our gear cache. An hour goes by before we can find our things. Cue clown music. The climb begins at 6am with a Doubleshot espresso and a hauling fiasco on the first pitch. Soon enough, though, we’re cruising up the route, hauling as we go, and paying close attention to our topo. The sun begins to set as I climb “The Grand Dihedral” pitch. I soon find that climbing in the dark