The desert is always beautiful this time of year. For a few weeks every fall the cottonwoods turn to gold, and as the wind travels through them it sound like water is running through the dry stream beds they line, even though no water has wetted the banks since the spring. They stand in stark contrast to the red and tan rocks and the sky, adding surreal bright spots to the landscape. The vertical walls of Wingate sandstone frame the sides of the sky, with the endless sea of blue above. For the third weekend in a row we have traveled to this place to share each other's company as we test our mettle mentally and physically against the uncompromising cracks and fissures of the vertical world. Last weekend we went three days without seeing a cloud, maximizing the enjoyment every minute possible by being outside all the time except when taking the short drive to the crags.
I've entered a phase that has increased my discretionary time. I find no better way to spend it than climbing and simply being in the desert. I wake up in the morning to a slight glow on one side of the canyon, while the other is still masked in the darkness of the dawn. Slowly the light grows until the first beams of sunlight illuminate to upper parts of the tallest cliffs to the West. Soon someone quietly gets out of bed and starts to boil water. The activity is contagious, and soon camp is bustling with breakfast and hot drinks. The sun won't hit camp for another hour and puffy jackets are the norm to fight off the morning chill. Once we are fed and the sun moves closer to enveloping camp, we throw a round of frisbee or play some hacky-sack to get the mojo flowing through stiff limbs. Then, as is the purpose, we climb.
Last week we climbed at the Chocolate wall. One of the things I like about the Swell is that there isn't a good guide for the area. A few of the routes can be found in old guidebooks or on-line, but the overwhelming majority of climbs are not documneted. One simply explores the area, looks for anchors at the top of cracks, and determines if the challange is acceptable. Personally, if I don't think I can do it, I like to try to heckle pals to persuade them to try. It is great adventure cragging. The Chocolate wall is a good example. After some research we found only its location and two route descriptionl although there is much more climbing than that. We found a couple of plum lines that Nate and Drew put up, and I spied a line that had not been climbed and got Kurt to belay me. The first few moves up a flake showered sand and broken rock down onto Kurt as I tried to move carefully so as to not break off the pieces of fragile rock on the edge of the crack. A few dubious moves and I stepped onto a pedestal. Ahead of me was a 600 pound pillar of rock that defended the crack behind it from being climbed. As I tried to move around it, the whole pillar shifted. I jumped back to the pedestal and instinctively balanced not falling off the pedestal with being in the most secure location as not to be crashed by the pillar should it fall. It didn't. But I still had to figure a way around it. "Kurt, are you in a good position if I pull some rock off?" "Hold on!" ws the reply and we discussed appropriate steps for dislodging the rock. He pulle gear and rope from the base of the climb. I tied off to a piece below the pillar and did what I could to tuck the rope into the crack so that the pillar wouldn't cut it when it fell. I planned my movement trying to utilize whatever space I had for my own safety. Once ready, I placed my hand behind the pillar and flex my fingers against it. It moved again and I jumped to my safety place prematurely as it didn't fall. I would have to put pressure on it until it fell and then move quickly. I warned Kurt, stepped back to the pillar and flexed my hand once again behind the pillar and watched as it began to dislodge, almost in slow motion. Once the motion was started and toppling as inevitable I stood back and flattened myself against the wall as the block came loose and exploded on the pedestal. I felt the shards of rock against my bare skin. I closed my eyes. The percussion began with the first explosion and then intensified as the pillar fell to the ground and impacted the ground and rocks at the base and then tumbled down the hillside. Drew said he could see the plume of dust Twin Towers style from around the corner where he was climbing. My heart surging with energy, I yelled down to Kurt to see if he was alright. He was. Calls came from the others to see if we were alright. All I could do was scream with delight!
Behind the pillar was a splitter crack- a little treasure that the desert had revealed to us for our effort. Out of the destruction came something beautiful.
Yesterday it rained, and I only had one day of climbing to show for the weekend. Eight of us stood beneath a tree for shelter and drank PBR while watching Nate climb a soaking wet crack. Generally it is a bad idea, but he had climbed it the day before and discovered that there were no anchors. Drew, Monica and I were returning from across the canyon climbing in costume (festive, eh?) and heard the call for "bolts and beer" from Nate, and obliged. We did our part, but the bolts weren't cooperating and after much hammering and explicatives Nate rappelled from a few few cams at dusk. They then pulled the rope and it stuck in the crack. So there we were the next morning in the rain watching Nate on a cliffside that was reflecting the sky it was so wet and he retrieved gear and won the bolt battle. He descended safely, wet, but glad to have escaped the vertical slip and slide.
We'll be down there again this weekend. Your welcome to come along and do your best with the disc golf and the campfire antics and the belching contests. You might find an arrowhead, or find yourself worn-out, tired and scared, but you'll definitely find yourself indelibly marked by the soulfulness of the experience.
