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stick233
May 11, 2004, 11:06 PM
Post #1 of 8
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Registered: Sep 18, 2002
Posts: 339
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Although I do not consider myself an aid climber, I can finally say I have aid climbed. It all started a year and a half ago when I got the idea to do a wall while thumbing through an issue of Rock and Ice. I thought, “I could do that”, and I’ve always strived to try every type of climbing. So I posted my intentions in the Aid Forum and was approached by a familiar friend. I met Wigglestick at the first Arizona gathering in Flagstaff and knew I could learn a lot from him. We PM’d a few times and met up in Zion for an attempt at Spaceshot in February of 2003. When we arrived it was cold… real cold for a desert rat from Phoenix! When we racked up the evening before the push, I was very excited… and cold. I hadn’t ever even been in a set of aiders, but I had a willing teacher and I was an eager student. When we went to bed, I was ready. We woke up at the butt-crack of dawn only to look upon 2 inches of fresh powder. 52 weeks without snow and our weekend was shot. We parted that day vowing to return and humble ourselves to the Leaning Wall. A year later, we decided to give it another try. This time we set it up for mid-April. Surely the snow season would be done, right? And this time I prepared myself a little better. I spent hours reading Freedom of the Hills, Big Walls, and watching the Guide to Aid Climbing video. Studying only goes so far, but due to my own schedule conflicts, the only practical application I had was aid solo/ top roping a single 5.11 crack up on Tom’s Thumb in Scottsdale. Not exactly a journeyman aider, I set off for Zion once again. As I was on the road, Matt called me from 80 miles outside of the park. He was in a nasty snowstorm and wasn’t sure we’d be able to climb. It was a huge let down but we decided to plod on and meet up at the Pizza and Noodle. To our surprise, not an hour west of the storm, the skies opened up to a warm sunshine mixed in with a cool breeze. It might work out after all. Matt had done some recon earlier in the day and saw no one was on Spaceshot yet. Our other option was Lunar Ecstasy, but the idea of hauling did not hold much appeal. Come on, Zion is essentially cragging, big wall style. Let’s leave the pig at home! We racked up and got ourselves squared away, and as I went to bed, I still had a feeling that it would snow on my head! Fortunately the sky held nothing but stars that night and we woke up in time to catch the first shuttle to the Canyon. Our “work smart, not hard” approach meant that we would fix the first four pitches today, come down and eat a good hot meal, and fire off the remaining five pitches tomorrow. Matt started off with the first three ugly free pitches. It was mostly blocky awkward slogging. The first two pitches weren’t much more than 5.6 and I ended up self-belaying with my gri-gri and climbing in my approach shoes. The third pitch has an option of going way right around a bunch of bushed, at 5.5, or taking a more direct crack straight up at about 5.8 or 5.9. Since the right side looked like a rope drag mess, Matt went straight up. This proved to be the better option because he placed a couple of good pieces, I followed relatively quick, and we were at the first headwall pitch in no time. For those thinking about doing the route, this path is recommended. We saw a team take the right hand route and had a terrible time with it, including a funky unprotected move that would have lead to a nice head smack had the leader fell. It was decided earlier that I would take the sharp end on this first headwall pitch. It is listed as C2, but merely due to a somewhat mandatory hook move early on the pitch. The line followed a long bolt ladder with about 30 to 40 feet of gear placements before reaching a hanging belay. This was the pinnacle of the trip for me. I was very nervous because I hadn’t even had the chance to see Matt lead a pitch. All I had was my books and the video to push me towards the anchors. As I stepped into the aiders for the first time, I recalled how different it is to be standing on a static piece rather than a dynamic rope. As I cinched in my easy-daisy, I reached up for the next bolt. Feeling it to be a little reachy, I had to push myself mentally to move up to the second step. As I worked with the dynamics of the three-point set up, I managed to clip the next bolt. I was doing it! I was stoked until I looked at the next bolt. It was WAY over my head. How was I to reach it? It was two feet over that nice, flat, long, perfect ledge. Oh… it was time for my first hook move. Now hooks are about the simplest form of gear imaginable. You put the hook over a ledge and weight it. K.I.S.S. in its rawest form. Now try it with your feet in the second step, shaking like there’s a spider crawling up it. It was a fingertip reach to throw the Talon over the top and when I pulled on it, I expected it to tear right through that Southwest sandstone. As I applied more weight to it, it just dug into the rock. Seeing as my only other option was flailing onto my daisies, I clip it and eased my way onto it. Once I had both feet locked onto it, I knew it wouldn’t blow. I was starting to feel like an aid climber! But let’s not get too cocky… I sat there for all of a millisecond before I was scratching and clawing for that elusive next bolt. Once back on solid gear, I worked my way up another ten or so bolts. Now the real work begins. As I got to the top and looked over at the splitter to my right, I almost called it quits. Leaving the safety of bolts does not come easily being raised clipping rings more than trad. I knew that if I turned around now, I would probably never aid a full pitch. I didn’t tell Matt until after the climb how close to bailing I had really come. But mind prevailed over matter and as I fumbled around with the gear on my waist, I knew I had to push on. Placing and weighting the first piece was a totally bizarre feeling. Even though there was a bolt five feet under me, I had this sense of finality pulsing through my veins. My breathing was up and I was sweating bullets, even though it was still a little chilly out. Once committed though, these feelings subsided as the urgency to place another piece took over. As I placed several more nuts, this feeling of urgency was more not because of fear of falling, but of moving forward. I also noticed that I kept reaching for nuts instead of cams. When I trad climb, I have always been a plug-and-go climber, choosing cams over nuts. One of my favorite parts on the pitch was when I realized that I had placed 8 nuts and not a single cam! Since I have yet to trad climb since Spaceshot, I am curious to see if more nuts will be placed. I was in high gear until I came to a standstill on one particularly thin section. There was a razor thin seam with a large opening three feet above it. I was still too shaky to top step, so I knew I had to place an intermediate before hitting the wider crack. As I fooled with my trusty HB offsets that I had quickly come to love, I kept working smaller and smaller. As I got down to the smallest offset, I felt a pit in my stomach. “Uh Matt? How strong is this tiny offset? Will it hold in this stuff?” His reply was a candid “It’ll hold body weight, just don’t fall on it!” Great, here’s where I zipper half my rack! As I eased on to a piece of brass the size of a half-kernel of corn, I thought I was done for. It felt like I was on it for an hour before the next piece, a VERY large offset, slid into the seam above me. I was elated, and all I thought was “Have fun getting that one out Matt!” A few more nuts and a single cam later, I reached the bolts. Upon reflection, the two and a half hour ordeal would probably have gone faster if I hadn’t been so slow on the bolt ladder. Either way, I was proud of my first aid lead… I was also exhausted. The idea of pushing for the top in a day ended when I clipped into those bolts! We had planned a fix and fire anyway, so we fixed our ropes and yapped about what we were going to eat for dinner. Heading in, talk was about spaghetti, chicken parm, and that ‘Hellboy’ was playing at the local theater, the largest screen in Utah! After a meal and a movie, there were no regrets not hauling! We got a good start the next morning, and shimmied up the first rope to find a pair bivvied on the ledge. We passed them heading up the second line, and it was time to get back to work. I had pretty much conceded that my leading was done, and after the jug fest to the high anchors, I was sure of it. I didn’t think Matt had any problems with that either… we did want to get off the rock before dark. It was time to belay. As Matt headed north, I could see major differences in our styles. He looked comfortable in the aiders, working methodically compared to my desperation. As he pulled out of view, I was feeling good. Matt’s pitches went pretty smooth. He was making pretty good time. With the time I spent belaying, I could only imagine how bored he must have gotten while I was crawling up the rock. Belaying was a constant struggle between keeping your partner safe, not getting distracted by the world around you, and keeping your damn legs and butt from falling asleep! Cleaning was a breeze, and once I got my system down, I think it moved pretty swift. As we neared Earth Orbit Ledge, all I wanted was a firm piece of real estate under my ass. When I followed him up to the top, the view was amazing. A monstrous arch loomed to our right and the valley below was showered in sunshine. Traffic below was light and I could hear turkeys gobbling in the meadow. Mmmmmm, turkey. Oh well, I’ll choke down another Clif bar. The decision for Matt to lead the final push ended up being a good one. He was subject to awkward placements in between sparsely spaced bolts. The worst however was the traverse to the first bolt. It was a dicey crawl over several odd blocks on the left edge of the arch before the pitch went skyward. As I watched him, I was sure glad I wasn’t on the sharp end. As he went out of view, he scrambled up a poorly protected 5.6 section and heaved over to the top. Now the fun began for me. Still a little intimidated and a bit tired, the traverse looked like sure peril. As I unclipped the horizontal bolts, the pending doom of going over the arch pounded through my head. The scariest moment of the climb came when I had to ease around a block and over the edge of the top of the arch. When I let go, I took a very short ride into nothing. I was five feet below the top of the arch and there was 850 feet of air between the deck and me. I probably would have shrieked if I was able, but my whole insides knotted up. I had never been subject to this kind of exposure, and as I looked at the rope scraping on the lip above me, I wondered how long I’d have to think about life on the way down. Putting one foot on top of the other, I crept up the line and hit solid rock again. Through determination and terror, I threw myself over the top. Probably not in the best style, I had completed my first wall! I had thought a cupful of determination and a gallon of terror got me up that wall, but upon reflection I realized it was the other way around. No falls were taken by either party, panic never set in to the point of danger, and the longer I was up there, the more I trusted the rock and my partner. Aid climbing is a funny thing. Free climbing puts so much pressure on the redpoint, that I feel that sometimes I lose out on the experience of the climb itself. I tend to focus on the specific move at hand rather than take in the whole picture. With aid climbing, I thought a few moves ahead, which I hadn’t been able to do on trad. I think being able to hang out on a piece that is tested and secure allowed me to take in the whole experience. It is something I definitely want to explore deeper. I have never been a graceful climber, and don’t care to put in the work to become one. In aid, it doesn’t matter. Hope my lazy ass will run into you on the wall sometime. I’ll be sure to let you pass! **Constructive criticism welcome to make this a better read... thanks for reading, Rob
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vegastradguy
May 11, 2004, 11:15 PM
Post #2 of 8
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Registered: Aug 28, 2002
Posts: 5919
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nice report, man....Spaceshot is next on my list of sandstone walls. Did Moonlight in January for my first wall, and being a fellow desert rat, it was damn cold! good job....cant wait to feel that exposure off the top of SS! woo!
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reno
May 11, 2004, 11:25 PM
Post #3 of 8
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Registered: Oct 30, 2001
Posts: 18283
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Smokin' TR, dude.... thanks for sharing!
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iamthewallress
May 11, 2004, 11:31 PM
Post #4 of 8
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Registered: Jan 2, 2003
Posts: 2463
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Congratulations and thanks for sharing your TR!
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epic_ed
May 11, 2004, 11:33 PM
Post #5 of 8
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Registered: Jun 17, 2002
Posts: 4724
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Nice job and congrats!! I had no idea you were planning to head up there this spring. Great job working through the fear to keep moving up. Believe me, I understand. So what's next? Ed
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coclimber26
May 16, 2004, 8:12 PM
Post #6 of 8
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Registered: Sep 8, 2002
Posts: 928
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Very nice report on Spaceshot. We made the trip this spring and were rained out...we will be back...Do you have any photos of the climb?
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wigglestick
Jun 11, 2004, 4:32 AM
Post #7 of 8
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Registered: Jul 27, 2001
Posts: 1235
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Woo hoo!!!!! It only took me a couple months to finally read this. Good times. Next fall what do you think about Desert Shield? Rob did really well for his first aid climb. We probably could have easily done it in a day but why rush when you can spread the fun over 2 days.
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climbingcowboy
Jun 13, 2004, 2:30 AM
Post #8 of 8
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Registered: Jun 24, 2002
Posts: 1201
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Just saw this congrats man well done, keep it up
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