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EDITOR’S NOTES:

All teams on Denali are required to register their team names with the National Park Service.  Stickers are provided to identify gear caches on the mountain.  Our team name was TZT2 (“To Zee Top 2” – the first TZT team made an unsuccessful summit bid in 2007).  TZT2 consisted of 7 members: Dave (team leader) – Evergreen, CO; Rob and Kenny, both of Denver, CO; Joe – San Francisco, CA; Chris – Boston, MA; Stony – Rochester, NH; and Bill – Kingston, PA.

 TZT2 climbed the West Buttress Route, which is climbed by most attempting to summit Denali.  The route begins at Base Camp on the Kahiltna Glacier at 7200 feet.  The average successful summit takes eleven days, round trip.  At 20,320 feet, Denali is the highest mountain in the United States and on the North American Continent.

Sunday, May 30, 2010 –

Breakfast at Anchorage hotel at 6:00 AM.  Talkeetna Air Taxi (TAT) shuttle arrives at 7:30 AM to transport TZT2 to Talkeetna.

Final food stop in Wasilla at Carr’s supermarket.  Arrive at TAT hanger at 11:00 AM and start weighing gear for aircraft.  800 pounds of gear plus 1200 pounds of body weight. All in one plane with 3200 pound capacity.

TAT's Gear-Sorting Hanger

Roasted in shorts and t-shirt while organizing gear in hanger.

Required briefing with National Park Service (Parkies). Picked up three Clean Mountain Cans (CMC). Provided Parkies with our emergency contact info, plus info on our tents, stoves, gas, radios, etc.  Back to hanger. Final gear check. Street clothes left behind in trailer at TAT.  Load van with mountain gear, hit tarmac at 3:00 PM.

Team TZT2 with 800 Pounds of Gear

Pilot advises us that we have to wait. Weather is sketchy heading into base camp.

We load all TZT2 gear plus some re-supply bags for another team then walk back to TAT porch and wait.  Ten minutes later, pilot announces it is go time.

We board the plane.  Dave allows first timers to shoot for shotgun seat. Stony wins. Kenny and I get first two seats behind pilot.

L-R, Joe, Chris, Dave, Joe, Bill

Flight of approximately forty-five minutes takes us over lush green pine forests, cut with glacial runoff streams and rivers.  Then after passing through “The Little Alps” we are above the Kahiltna Glacier.  Visibility not great, but soon Base Camp is in view.

Glacial Runoff Cutting Thru Forest Below

Landing a little bumpy, but not half as rough as I expected, and surprisingly short. Watching later landings and take-offs, I am amazed how little runway is actually needed.

On the glacier, we unload gear and are welcomed to Base Camp by the Parkies.  We are at 7200 feet. Temps are mild – 50’s maybe even 60 with full sun and reflective heat. Parkies advise that low at base camp last night was 34 degrees.

Team sorts gear and selects a camp site after collecting our pre-ordered white gas from the Parkies.  Snow is collected for melting.  A cache site is selected and dug, into which goes 2-3 days of food, one CMC and two cases of beer.  Cache buried and wanded with TZT2 Team sticker.

After food is had by all, Kenny and Dave brief team on roped glacier travel and crevasse rescue technique. No time for demo, just lecture.

Sled Assembly at Base Camp

Sleds are assembled (with patented Covill Technology – PVC tubing tows to better control sleds on side slopes and on descent).  Rope teams are chosen.  Chris will lead team with Kenny and Joe.  Stony will lead team with the rest.  Butterfly knots are tied. Ropes laid out, gear packed and we go to bed to stunning views of Mt. Foraker looming 10,000 feet above us.

Chris' Flashy Snow Pants atop Base Camp Tent - 17,400' Mt. Foraker in the Background

If I said I wasn’t a bit nervous, maybe even reluctant, I’d be lying, but climbing a mountain of this magnitude is not anything to be taken lightly. After all, many use Rainier as their training grounds for far off peaks in the Himalaya and Alaska Range. “Was I ready?”, “Did I train hard enough”, “Would we be caught in a bad rock or icefall?” These were the thoughts that filled my head in the weeks leading up to my Arrival in Ashford, Washington.

Long had I dreamt of big mountain adventure, and for some reason I fixated on Rainier. For months, years even, I read what I could about mountain travel and this enthralling stratovolcano bearing the name “Rainier”. Being considered the most technical mountain climb in the continental US, Rainier was a formidable pursuit to say the least. I chose to up the ante by making my pursuit a charitable one by enlisting in the Summit For Someone program. This program directly benefits Big City Mountaineers, a non profit responsible for taking under-resourced teens on week long outdoor experiences.

By the time I arrived at RMI Base camp in Ashford I had been traveling for over two weeks with stops in the Colorado Front range, and an unsuccessful summit attempt of the Grand Teton. Despite not making the summit, my two days in the Wyoming backcoutry had given me the confidence I needed to feel comfortable about Rainier. Our team had made it all the way to 13,000 feet and I was feeling strong considering that it had been my first time working my body above 8,000 feet.

As I continued up the Muir snowfield on a warm August afternoon, I could not help but stare at the perspective bending views surrounding me. Behind me, like an oil painting in the sky stood Mount Adams, Saint Helens and in the distance even hood. Ahead of me, the glacier capped volcano that is Rainier with the Nisqually glacier being the most imposing feature in my current uphill view. Appearing as a severely cracked sheet of glass sliding down the mountain, the Nisqually glacier was littered with crevasses and seracs. Our planned route, Disappointment Cleaver, Took us around the objective danger of the Nisqually by crossing the Cowlitz and Ingraham glaciers.

With roughly four miles of terrain at our backs, Camp Muir became visible in the distance. Excitement began to noticeably increase among the members of my group. We had all been Summit For Someone climbers who tasked ourselves with the mission of scaling this peak in the name of all of the generous people who donated to our cause, but more importantly, we climbed for those teens. At around 2:30pm we strolled into Camp Muir glowing with energy and excitement. Our snow school training the day prior allowed us to excel at conserving energy.

Camp Muir, situated at 10,080 feet was built in 1921 under the supervision of Daniel R Hull of the National Park Service. The original stone shelter is 12 by 25 feet and consists of only one room. In addition to this structure, there are other newer structures including solar composting outhouses, and the RMI bunkhouse in which we made our home for the evening.

Dan, our lead guide debriefed us for the day when we arrived to Muir, Praising us on our effectiveness and strength as we ascended the Muir Snowfield. He assured us that he had no concerns about our ability to climb to the upper reaches of this mountain provided the mountain allowed it. The weather looked clear for the next twenty four hours, the clearest Dan had seen all season. We were left with a final piece of advice to continue consuming liquids and food until we went to be to help fend off the effects of being at altitude. We broke our huddle and went off to rest for the evening.

Knowing that we intended to be marching toward the summit no later than 11:30pm to take advantage of the firm night time snow I began to wind down. This was difficult I would come to find as it was only just after Three in the afternoon. After a cup of hot tea, I rolled out my sleeping gear in the confined platform of the RMI bunkhouse and lay down. Most of the evening was spent thinking about the summit push while staring at the ceiling. The closer the clock ticked to 10:30, the more anxious I got.

Eternity finally came to an end and one of the guides came in to begin to bolster us from our sleeping bags. I quickly jumped to attention and began to ready my gear. I hurriedly put on the necessary clothing and packed my summit bag. I strapped my crampons on and we began to tie into our rope teams.

Roping up for glacier travel made me feel like I had never felt before on an outdoor adventure. This felt serious. Exciting, but at the same time something that must not be taken lightly. Glacier travel can be unpredictable and deadly if not respected and I knew that. I thought about my family and all the folks who have cheered me on throughout the past few months of fund raising and living unconventionally. I thought about how lucky I was as I watched some of my biggest dreams, the stuff I fantasized about for years materialized right in front of me and finally I asked whatever high power may be out there for safe passage to and from the summit for not only my team, but everyone on the mountain that day.

In no time at all we had begun our ascent. The sky was clearest I had seen it in a long time, and a vivid blanket of starts filled my view. I placed one foot in front of the other as we stepped onto the Cowlitz Glacier. Making sure to employ the rest step with each motion and the pressure breath as needed. Conserving energy at this altitude is important. It could mean the difference between A summit sunrise or an early turn around.

Over the following few hours our conga line danced across the glacial crust of Rainier with precision and grace. We stopped infrequently, only for our short rest breaks, and to coil in the rope teams for travel across rocky terrain like Cathedral gap and the routes namesake, The Disappointment Cleaver. In what seemed like mere minutes we were on the home stretch to the crater rim. A smile across my face lit up brightly with enthusiasm and gratitude, I began to laugh. It seemed as if the mighty Rainier was going to grant us passage to her crater rim.

Only one more obstacle stood between us and the rim: A nearly four foot wide crevasse. We arrived at the gaping crack in the glacier and one by one our rope team crossed the aluminum ladder spanning the fissure. I was up. I grabbed the hand line anchored to the snow for balance and placed my crampons onto the rungs of the ladder. One foot in front of the other I crossed the unnatural span until I had landed safely on the other side.

A few short minutes later our rope team crested the crater rim of Mount Rainier. The early morning sky did little to showcase the grandeur of the Caldera before me. The real show would start shortly when the Sun permeated the ridge to the east. For six hours I had traveled as a unit with my comrades, but with the hazards of the glacier behind us, we detached from one another.

Though we had made it to the crater, we still had about twenty more minutes to Columbia Crest, the true summit of Mount Rainier, But we rested for a bit before making that final push to the roof of Washington. I sipped on water, ate a candy bar and reminisced for a bit about the trek up this formidable peak. Though the hike up was not without its moments of altitude induced nausea, exhaustion and cold, the overall ascent was an enjoyable one. The experience made me feel nothing short of elated.

As the group gathered, The guides applauded our strength and ability, but also made it clear that we were only half way there. Alpinist Ed Viesturs said it best when he said “It’s a round trip. Getting to the summit is optional, getting down is mandatory.”

By this time, the sun was beginning to rise. One by one, the eleven members of our group began to rise to their feet. With ice axe in hand we crossed the crater snowfield along a well defined path to columbia crest located on the other side. As we neared the far side of the crater, the sun hit my face for the first time in nearly twelve hours. Everything in it’s path took on a brilliant fiery glow.

I stopped for a moment just below the summit to snap a picture for one of my comrades and to admire the beautiful sunrise. I had never seen anything this beautiful in my life.

Within moments I had arrived at Columbia Crest, There were many successful climbers celebrating alongside us. Some hugged one another, many shook hands, and everyone was smiling. Our group each had their individual summit celebrations. I took out my prayer flags and held them up for a photograph, as well as took photographs for others.

We gathered as a group on the summit and reveled in our accomplishments, talked briefly about some of our fundraising experiences, then took a group photo. Over the past day and a half, this group became brothers on the mountain. None of us new each other coming in, but now we all have new friends going out. We thanked each other for the support throughout the past day and then turned back down the mountain.

I stood there on the summit for a bit longer, smiled and said “i’ll be back again” Then turned to head back down the mountain. After all, we were only half way there.

One sure sign that rock climbing has hit the mainstream is its recent appearance in several current television ads.  Miller Lite injected a humorous look at climbers into its “un-manly” series.  Heating and air-conditioning company Service Experts also used humor in a pitch featuring an “expert” ice climber.

For a more realistic, non-humorous look at the sport, there’s Citibank.  With stunning aerial photography and jaw-dropping helmet cam footage, Citi’s ad is a thirty-second testimonial to the awe-inspiring beauty and sheer thrill that attracts so many to the sport.  In fact, with such eye-popping visuals, the message of the ad itself is almost lost.

Ancient Art's Corkscrew Summit - photo credit: mountainproject.com

When the average viewer of the Citi ad recovers from the vertigo induced by it, questions usually follow.  My friends know I climb, so I find myself fielding these questions all the time, the most frequent of which is, “is it real?”  A legitimate question, I suppose, given modern green screen technology, digital imagery and computerized special effects.

The short answer to “is it real?” is a resounding “yes.”  However, Citi has used a little poetic license.  The climbers portrayed in the ad are no ordinary couple, but in fact professional rock climbers Katie Brown and Alex Honnold.

Katie Brown - photo credit: prweb.com

Brown, 29, has been climbing since age 13, and winning climbing competitions ever since.  Honnold, 26, is considered by many to be one of the best free solo climbers on the planet today.  He was recently featured on CBS’ 60 Minutes and in National Geographic’s Alone on the Wall.

Alex Honnold - photo credit: nerverush.com

The magnificent rock formation Brown and Honnold climbed is called Ancient Art.  It is part of Fisher Towers near Moab, Utah.  I had my eye on this very climb during my recent visit to Moab last summer.  Unfortunately, extreme heat and insufficient time kept me from assuming that same pose achieved by Brown atop this most iconic of desert towers.

Brown and Honnold I’m sure made easy work of Ancient Art, a climb well below the grades to which they are accustomed.  But for a climber of more modest abilities, Ancient Art can be quite challenging.  It is four pitches, 275-feet, and rated 5.10.  The exposure on the final pitch and the signature corkscrew finish make it the most popular climb on the Towers.

So next time your favorite television show is interrupted by those breathtaking images from the Utah desert, you can rest assured that what you are seeing is not the product of Hollywood magic, but indeed a 100% real showcase of two of today’s most talented climbers on one of the sport’s – my sport’s – most spectacular playgrounds.

(Credits: Homepage thumbnail courtesy of s_mestdagh on Flickr)

The allure of the desert tower has long held sway over my climbing Psyche.  When I first laid eyes on Devils Tower in Wyoming in 2004, I knew I had to climb it – and I didn’t even start climbing seriously until 2009.  I’ve since climbed Devils Tower twice, and I will climb it again.

So before flying west to join Patrick for the return trip east, I researched several classic towers located along our expected route back.  There was the Grand Canyon’s Mount Hayden, Ancient Art with its mesmerizing corkscrew finish, and perhaps the most famous of all desert towers, Castleton in Moab.  Unfortunately, my hopes of reaching these lofty summits were dashed by a compressed travel schedule and the oppressive late summer desert heat.

Independence Monument Beta

Undeterred, I traced our prospective route and discovered Independence Monument, a 450 foot monolith within Colorado National Monument, just outside of Grand Junction.  It was farther north, which meant it was cooler, and it was practically right off the highway.  And, as chance would have it, 2011 marked the 100^th anniversary of its first ascent.  It was perfect.

The first ascent of Independence Monument was completed on June 14, 1911 by Colorado National Monument’s most fervent promoter and its first superintendent, John Otto.   Otto drilled numerous holes in the soft sandstone and pounded pipes into the holes to form a ladder of sorts.  The pipes have long since been removed, but the ever-eroding holes remain, and the route, still bearing Otto’s name, is now free.  Today, locals recreate Otto’s first ascent with a climb and a ceremonial flag raising on the summit each Independence Day.

Patrick on the approach

Our assault on Otto’s Route began at the home of Charlie and Diane Winger in Montrose, Colorado, about an hour away where we had stayed the night before.  Charlie and Diane were up a 5:00 AM whipping up a breakfast feast of Belgian waffles and fruit smoothies.  It was perfect fuel for the monumental climbing they lay ahead.  Charlie and Diane drove with us to the trail-head, and Charlie even hiked the forty-five minute approach with us.

When we arrived at the base, we found that the trail-head sign-in book was correct – while there were many hikers along the trail, we were the only climbers.  We had the tower to ourselves.

Patrick loaded his harness with his rack: set of nuts, stoppers, cams with several duplicates up to #2, one #3 and one #4.  I brought along a larger set of tri-cams to add to his weight.

Patrick stemming the first pitch

As I belayed and Charlie snapped pictures, Patrick worked quickly and efficiently on the 5.5 first pitch of 140 feet.  Charlie wished us well and departed as I began to clean the pitch, hauling a second rope in my pack as I climbed.

Patrick had set a hanging belay at the first set of anchors, and I climbed past him to a large ledge where we transferred gear so I could lead.

Pitch two is 70 feet and 5.8.  The beta suggests protecting the crux with a #4 cam towards the top of an overhanging off-width crack.  Thinking I had not yet reached this point, I used my #3 and pulled through the run out section only to discover bolted anchors just above.  The #4 was never placed.  Otto’s pipe holes had provided all the measure of security I needed.  Indeed, I placed just two pieces of gear on the entire pitch.

Patrick in the Time Tunnel

Patrick took back lead on pitch three.  It begins as a class 4 scramble and ends with a traverse through the “Time Tunnel.”  Patrick unwittingly added a slight variation by scrambling up and over the signature Tunnel.

We had now reached “Lunchbox Ledge,” which as advertised is a large, comfortable ledge with excellent views.  The ledge is so large there was no need to set an anchor.  Patrick belayed my lead on pitch four as though he was belaying from the ground.

The final two pitches were two of the most unique pitches I’ve ever climbed.  Pitch four is a blank sandstone face with no place for pro.  Pitons however are available to sling, and a few steps chopped by Otto a century ago were protection enough.  I considered stringing four and five together, but opted instead to bring Patrick up to the chains, if for no other reason than to provide him with a better view of the final pitch.

Looking up at pitch five

Pitch five begins as a 5.0 no pro needed crawl up a sandstone ramp of increasing grade.  About twenty feet up, I plugged a #2 tri-cam in one of Otto’s pipe holes – perfect placement.  The crux is fifty feet up as the ramp becomes vertical and an overhanging roof must be negotiated.  There are two pitons under the roof, but I chose to sling only the first one.  The final moves are fairly juggy, but with an excessive amount of gear hanging off my harness, and almost non-stop laughter as I pulled through, I think I made it more awkward than it needed to be.

From the final belay station, which is also the first rappel station, there remains just a six-foot hop up to a spacious flat summit.

Patrick and I spent about twenty minutes at the summit where the weather was perfect and the views were magnificent.  We signed the summit register, took the obligatory summit shots and it was time to descend.  With three single rope rappels from the top, and a final double rope rap, we were back on the ground.

Patrick and Bill - Obligatory summit shot

Independence Monument was very enjoyable, very unique, and I would commend it to anyone who is a solid 5.8 trad leader.  I also suggest you take the time to read up on John Otto.  He is considered by many to be the John Muir of western Colorado.  A skilled trail builder, and an avid conservationist, he was also an eccentric patriot who was jailed three times for “insanity.”  He married at the base of Independence Monument, only to have his wife leave him weeks later when she realized she could not adjust to his hermit-like lifestyle (he was fond of saying, “I live in a tent and I pay no rent”).  But the enduring legacy of John Otto is the 20,500 acre tract of canyon land just outside Grand Junction that, because of his vision, his labor and his persistence is now preserved for us all as Colorado National Monument.

I am sure those of you who read this site often have heard this story before. It was August of 2010 and Me and two others had just finished a successful summit of Devils Tower via the Durrance Route and were beginning to make the 1200 foot descent when we were caught off guard by an early afternoon thunderstorm. Winds picked up to nearly forty miles an hour blowing our two sixty meter ropes over our heads like they were paper. As we descended, our situation got worse when our ropes got stuck and it began to lighting fiercely. Seemingly stranded on a three by five ledge several hundred feet off the ground, and being pounded by rain, this was the first time in my life I had thought to myself “Shit, I’m gonna die.” So my question for everyone is, have you had an experience like this? how did it make you feel, how did you keep panic at bay and what did you do when you ultimately survived?

Stressed to the core

After several hours of struggling with ropes and weathering the storm, we arrived in the bowling alley, humbled and severely dehydrated. It was an experience I won’t soon forget.

]]> http://campthesummit.com/2011/12/shit-gonna-die/feed/ 0 http://campthesummit.com/2011/11/climbing-gap/ http://campthesummit.com/2011/11/climbing-gap/#comments Thu, 03 Nov 2011 20:36:08 +0000 Bill http://campthesummit.com/?p=2089 by: Bill Urbanski

Anyone who has driven on I-80 between Pennsylvania and New Jersey has no doubt gazed up at the rugged cliffs that rise up above the banks of the Delaware River and so dominate the surrounding landscape.

For the busy highway traveller, this two-mile stretch provides little more than a brief but remarkable contrast separating eastern Pennsylvania woodland from sprawling New Jersey suburbia.  For the adventurer – those willing to stop and explore the Delaware Water Gap National Recreation Area – the area provides so much more.

My home is just a forty-five minutes from “The Gap,” as it is called by locals, and I too had passed by and gazed up many times.  Recently, with friends Patrick and John, I dared not only to stop and explore but also to climb those ubiquitous and imposing cliffs.

What is surprising about The Gap is that despite such close proximity to the highway, the area does not see a whole lot of climbing traffic.  Indeed, Patrick, John and I are practically locals, and despite many years of climbing experience between us, none of us had ever climbed before at The Gap.

What is also surprising about The Gap is that climbing beta is wanting.  I am lucky to own a copy of Climbing Guide to the Delaware Water Gap, by Michael Steele, a former park ranger who climbed extensively at The Gap in the 1980’s.  It is considered the area’s most comprehensive guidebook, but it has been out of print for more than twenty years.  Online sites sadly offer little to supplement Steele’s book.

Patrick at an overlook along the Red Dot Trail

After reading what I could, I decided I wanted to climb a Gap classic, a 5.4 called Triumvirate, located on Mt. Tammany.  Mt. Tammany is on the New Jersey side of the Delaware River and is one of the two main climbing areas at The Gap.  The other is Mt. Minsi on the Pennsylvania side, which I hope to explore on another trip.

The recommended approach to the Tammany climbs is via the Red Dot Trail.  The trailhead parking lot is immediately off of I-80 West, just before crossing the river into Pennsylvania.  The lot also provides access to the Appalachian Trail which passes through The Gap.  Red Dot gains 1250 feet over 1.5 miles and ultimately joins the Blue Dot and Appalachian Trails to form a four-mile loop.  This loop is popular with hikers and offers several excellent viewpoints overlooking both highway and river as they snake through The Gap.  The Red Dot approach allows climbers to rappel in from the top of the climbs.

The other approach option, which will get you to the base of the climbs, involves bushwhacking between highway and cliff and scrambling up a horrendous scree and talus field.  This characterization comes from personal experience, as this was the post-climb route we chose to take back to our car.  It did provide a bit of adventure, but Red Dot is the better choice.

John tossing the rope for rappel

The trick to the Red Dot approach is finding the appropriate cut-off point for the climbers’ trail.  We took a few wrong turns and ended up doing a bit of bushwhacking after all until we found the cliff top we desired.  Upon arrival, John surveyed the area briefly before deciding on a sturdy hemlock tree for our anchor.  Two 70-meter ropes were lashed together and slung around the tree.  Moments later our party of three was at the base of the wall, looking up and anxious to climb.

John took lead while Patrick belayed and I compared the rock face in front of me with the pictures from the Steele book.  With light waning and perspective poor, I was unable to discern our location and cannot say with any certainty which route we actually climbed.  I can say however that the route John picked out felt like a 5.4, and we did find a piton and some abandoned webbing along the way.  Another reason I say the route felt 5.4 was that Patrick and I climbed the sometimes loose and chossy rock without much difficulty, in the dark, and Patrick didn’t even bother putting on his climbing shoes; he climbed it in sneakers.

Nighttime Rapper

At night, the Gap does not offer the same beauty to passing motorists as it does during the day.  At best the Tammany and Minsi cliffs are silhouettes against a darkened sky.  But on this day, with John belaying from the hemlock as Patrick and I simul-climbed below him, the curiosity of more than a few passing I-80 motorists was surely piqued by the bobbing headlamps in the sky.

Editor’s Note:  If you plan to climb at The Gap, be sure to take a helmet.  Loose rock is common and has been the cause of several accidents at the Gap.  Given the length and difficulty of approach, a headlamp and weather-appropriate gear are recommended as well.

Pre Climb Group Shot

By: Bill Urbanski

The last time I climbed Devils Tower, which was also the first time I climbed Devils Tower, I was lucky to get down unscathed, and unscorched by the powerful lightning storm that at first hastened then later interrupted our rappel.  The harrowing account of my first Devils Tower climbing experience can be found in grand detail and in living color at my home blog, The Urban Opus.

With copious amounts of rain the previous day, there was no sense of urgency to get on the Tower, so we slept in – till 6:00 AM.  Our first order of business was to organize our racks and packs.  I also took the time to cook a hot breakfast of oatmeal and coffee for the team.  By 7:15, the car was packed and we were on our way.

A Park Ranger cheerfully greeted us at the entrance kiosk and informed us that a pair of climbers had beaten us to the gate by about ten minutes.  I spoke briefly with the other climbers upon entering the parking lot and learned they too were climbing Durrance, the most popular route on the Tower.  But since we planned a different approach I was not concerned.

At 7:50 AM, David signed us in at the climber registration kiosk and the climb was begun.  We walked up and along the macadam path to a point below the leaning pillar, the first pitch of Durrance.  Turning left, we scrambled up a short path and found ourselves in the Bowling Alley, a slabby run-out area below the final rappel station.  This is also the beginning of the alternate start to Durrance.  Ropes were flaked, knots were tied, and gear was checked, and with the simple command “climbing,” David began his lead.

The alternate start is simple and short at 5.4.  David made quick work of it and Maraya followed and cleaned.  By the time I arrived at the belay station, David had already traversed left, without belay, to the base of the leaning pillar.  The team from the parking lot was still on the leaning pillar and we were forced to wait.

Maraya near the top of the leaning tower

When it was safe to proceed, David took lead again on the seventy-foot leaning pillar pitch.  It was clear from the pace of the team ahead of us that it was going to be a long ascent.  But this was the first time David, Maraya and I were climbing as a unit, and we weren’t exactly speed demons ourselves.  In addition, David and I were swapping leads, so transitions at belay stations, rope management and pack hauling all added extra time to our project.

The second pitch on the Durrance Route is called the Durrance Pitch.  It follows two parallel cracks for seventy feet: one that takes protection well, the other, an off-width.  Rated at 5.7+, it is considered the toughest pitch on Durrance.  For the first fifty feet both cracks can be utilized, then the climber must commit to one or the other crack for the final stretch.

Bill chooses left on Durrance Crack

Last year, Patrick took lead here; this time was my time.  My crack climbing technique still needs a lot of work, so the Durrance pitch worked me hard.  By the time I reached that point of decision fifty feet up, I was already breathing hard.  I chose the left finish, topped out and set anchor.  Maraya and David followed, both getting a good workout in the process.

David took back lead on the Cussin’ Crack.  Only thirty feet in length, the Cussin’ Crack is the shortest pitch on the route, but its awkward start surely gives credence to its name.  David was the best choice to lead this pitch as his colorful vocabulary did not disappoint.  My video was not salvageable after all of the sound editing, so only still photographs remain to memorialize David’s efforts.

When our team reached the top of the Chockstone Pitch it was decision time again.  Once again, we encountered the team from the parking lot, still working Bailey’s Direct, a 150-foot chimney infested pitch and one of the finishing options.  Since I had already climbed Bailey’s, and because we didn’t want to wait, our team chose the other finishing option – the Jump Traverse.

Maraya on the final pitch 500 feet up

There is no actual jump in the Jump Traverse, but there is plenty of air as you work across a chest high horizontal finger crack for fifteen feet.  A piton around a corner in the roof, if utilized, makes the Traverse a 5.6.  Keep hands off the piton, and you have a 5.8.   I was back on lead, and being 400 feet off the deck, I was in no mood to be a hero.  I chose the 5.6 variation.

It was a very different scene for me this time at the first rap station atop Bailey’s Direct.  (For the chaos of 8-9-10, click here).  A light breeze and bright sunshine allowed us to take our time as David lashed our ropes together with the Euro Death Knot (EDK).  David rapped first.  He got a little off track but quickly realized his error and made the necessary correction.

With all three of us at rap station #2, it was the moment of truth – it was time to pull the ropes.  We had made a very conscious effort to stay on the face of the columns during our rappel in order to prevent our ropes from getting stuck in the Tower’s infamous rope-eating cracks.  I pulled. The rope moved easily.  I saw the EDK getting closer and closer.  Then the rope dropped from the upper anchors.  Just as I extended my hand to catch the falling end – disaster.  The rope caught on protruding rock twenty feet above us, just beneath the roof of the Jump Traverse.  I flicked and pulled but to no avail.  It was hopelessly stuck.  David and I were forced to scramble back up through The Meadows to assess the situation.  David fixed an anchor and lowered me to the source of the stickiness.

David on rappel

The remaining rappels were without incident, and in short order we were back at the Bowling Alley coiling our ropes, having had the distinct pleasure of meeting Frank Sanders along the way.  Frank is the area’s greatest resource on Devils Tower.  A climbing guide with well over 1000 ascents of the Tower, he also runs the nearby Devils Tower Lodge.  We chatted with Frank from our final rap station, as he stood about fifty feet across from us on top of the Durrance Pitch.  He was guiding two clients to the summit for a sunset dinner, some star gazing, and a nighttime rap down.

Our team returned to the parking lot via that same macadam path where curious non-climbers had watched our entire endeavor with wonder and awe.  As expected, we received rock star treatment.  We answered questions and posed for pictures, some of which were openly taken, others surreptitiously snapped by tourists presumably unaware that rock climbers, for the most part, are not only tame but often friendly.

David and I then transformed into tourist mode ourselves, stopping at the car for our National Park Passport Books.  We entered the Visitor Center, still harnessed, slightly dirty and disheveled, and proudly stamped our books.

The Summit Group Shot

The great folks at ProBar were awesome enough to hook us up with a generous supply of there all organic and tasty bars and I have decided to cut weight by living off of only Probar for the two day summit attempt. Looking forward to reporting back on how everything goes afterwards. We also just recently received a Spot! Connect device that we hope to put to the test on this climb. Stay tuned for a link to our spot tracker.

Climb On!
-Patrick