Subject: TR: Time vs. Money Date: Mon, 27 Oct 2003 22:42:09 -0800 From: "Christopher A. Kantarjiev" Organization: The Dimebank Garage Newsgroups: rec.climbing [I wrote this in July of 2002, describing a day of that April. It was intended to be a tag-team TR with Nathan, but he never finished his end and now seems to have disappeared from the face of the computer-reachable earth, so here is my version...] It always come down to that, doesn't it? Here I am, lots of free time (because I'm unemployed) but lacking the cash to enjoy it as much as I might like to. (Well, there's cash, but there's also an ongoing mortgage payment ...) When last we left our hero, he was out in Salt Lake City, engaging in climbing archeology and trying to rekindle interest in climbing amongst one of the fallen. Not clear it had much long-term effect, but it was fun. (See http://www.dimebank.com/~cak/mtneer/mjb_2002.txt) To try to get the most out of that whole time/money thing, since I was already on the road, I sent mail to Nathan Sweet. We've corresponded a number of times about odd things, from slung 2x4s to gaidas to homemade instruments of (aural) torture, but we've never met or climbed together. It seemed that swinging by his way on the drive home could make sense, if the weather cooperated. And so part 2 of the plan was hatched. As things progressed, a potential hitch appeared: I was going to show up on Nathan's birthday, his dad was going to be visiting, and I didn't want to crash into a family reunion. No problem, I was assured - in fact, I would probably have a nicer place to crash - so I headed their way. Once again, I wished that Wendover and Reno were only an hour apart. To make things worse, I ended up on a circa 3 hour detour via Virginia City because of an armed standoff on 395 between Reno and South Lake Tahoe... Finally got there, Nathan fed me, met all the folks, pointed me at the hot tub. That was nice. We spent the rest of the evening, for as long as I lasted, chatting about climbing - mostly Nathan talked, since he climbs a lot, and mostly I listened, since I don't get out much. I'm sure he spent at least part of that time trying to figure out just who is this guy he was going to tie in with tomorrow. A plan for the next day emerged. Up early, climb at Phantom Spires, relatively short day. That got me an hour closer to home, and let Nathan spend some more time with his dad before he left. And so it was. The next morning was a crisp California morning; I followed Nathan's truck down to Phantom Spires, up the dirt road, to the empty parking lot. Just like he said - it's a little farther from the road, so almost no one goes there. Mostly clear skies, a little cloudy perhaps. We were worried about rain (had been a fair amount of acivity lately) but so far, so good. What to climb? Well, Nathan suggested "the easiest route here is rated 5.5, but it's no 5.5. There's an offwidth/chimney second pitch that I have a score to settle with - want to lead the first pitch?". Sounded good to me. To be honest, I don't remember a lot about Tyro's Test Piece, the aforementioned 5.5 - that memory was pushed aside by the horror show that came later. We'll get there. I remember a right facing corner with decent pro, a couple of lovely nut placements, and moderately awkward/strenuous - more like 5.7. Got to the obvious belay ledge, saw the chockstone in the offwidth, built an anchor. Nathan followed, didn't complain about my placements, racked up for his battle. He'd brought the #5 Camalot ("I know I'm going to need this") and grabbed a few offset Aliens from my rack, and headed off. And came back down. And headed off. And came back down again. Turned around 180, found some hideous stem, placed an Alien and then the #5, and headed up for the crux. I couldn't really see him after that. I couldn't really repeat his start - I felt more secure a little farther into the crack - but I managed to get up in decent style. There was a moment where I didn't think I'd be able to clean one of his pieces, but I managed barely to reach it. Pulled the last little roof, got to the lovely belay ledge. We agreed that this pitch was more like 5.8, and were happy that we didn't need to try it again. Wind had picked up, a few clouds, but nothing we were worried about. Rapped. I had said something about my goal for the summer being solid leading 5.7, so Nathan pointed us at "something that will get you well on the way to that": Ginger Bread. This climb proceeds up a set of flakes to a small "roof", then moves onto an easy but runout ramp to the top. ("Do you know how to sling chickenheads for pro? You'll want to.") Nathan avoided giving me much beta other than the general layout of the route - up the flakes, pull the sideways roof, crux is the corner, clip the fixed slings, head up the ramp for the two big chickenheads, find the belay ledge. It was really the perfect climb - just at my limit. Scary. Hesitant. Nathan shouted up encouragement but not much beta - reminding me to breathe, to look for holds other than pure crack (that's the key to it being 5.7), and to put in pro above my head. This was an epiphany - I knew, intellectually, the idea of "protecting a move", but I don't think I had ever really internalized it. Until this climb, I had put in pro to preserve gained ground, to minimize loss if I did something stupid, but not to catch me if I screwed up what I was about to do. And certainly not for move after move! I made slow but steady upward progress. The roof and the crux were challenging but straightforward (helps to be tall and moderately flexible). And then it all went wrong. I had clipped the fixed slings, and started "heading up the ramp". Except that the ramp was this water-washed slick surface devoid of anything but the tiniest features, reminding me of Glacier Point Apron ... and not a chicken head in sight. Oh, I saw the two chickenheads I was supposed to get to, but they were up, to the left, and on the next flake about, about two feet above the surface I was on. OK, this is weird. I tried to move up. I spied "easier ground" to the right. I went that way ... and it didn't really get easier. So now I'm 10 feet past my last piece, in the middle of this 15 foot wide expanse of slick face climbing. Can't back down. Don't want to go forward. No pro in sight. Falling will be a big, unpleasant pendulum. Wind is up and I'm getting cold. I make upward diagonal progress to a corner. I get a piece in and hang. Nathan suggests that I make a belay and bring him up - this sounds like a great idea. As he comes up to the fixed sling, my mistake becomes clear - after clipping, I was supposed to get up on the ramp above the one I ended up on. Sure enough, that would make sense. Oh well. Now he's up there, and he doesn't really want to continue that path above and to the left of me, with no pro - big pendulum for him into a nasty corner if he pops off. So he follows were I led ... grumbling all the way about 5.9 face freakshows. I'd sympathize, but I'm too cold. He reaches the belay. "If it had been me, I would have jumped off and tried again." He grabs some gear, places a bad Alien, and takes off. Another piece in, a tension traverse across, and he's back on route. A few minutes later, he's on top, I'm climbing in the sun, starting to recover feeling in my feet. The wind is definitely up; we can see a storm coming. We're both cold, my hands are getting numb, we rig the rappel carefully - it's a full-length freehanging rappel onto bad terrain. He wants to find the exact middle but can't find his marks - after a couple of minutes of this I hand him the two ends and the little light comes on over his head. Tossed ropes have a tendency to get stuck in a tree, but not today - we don't make any mistakes on the way down. He goes first. I follow, backing up the rap because I'm not sure I can trust my hands. I pull the rope and find him enjoying a sunny spot... and ask him if he's got a spare cigarette. Been a long time, and it tasted good. We felt the first raindrops as we got to the parking lot. I don't think the storm ever materialized fully, but it seemed like we ended the day at the right time anyway ... just when we had planned! Hmm. Looks like I'll have a job soon, maybe I'd better head up for that day at the Leap! chris