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agrauch
Sep 14, 2004, 4:43 PM
Post #1 of 2
(1290 views)
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Registered: Nov 20, 2001
Posts: 217
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The weather forecast sucks: cloudy, windy, with a good chance of rain. It’s hard to commit to a route on a peak with an outlook like this. Even the routes down low don’t sound so appealing. Besides, I had just gotten down from Buck and relished the thought of sleeping in. Tomorrow is the perfect day for a little sport climbing.
With no real sense of urgency we catch the 6th or 7th tram of the morning. Our goal is to climb bolted Dolomite in two of the mountain’s famous couloirs. Up top the weather is just as predicted, cloudy and windy. No big deal, we’re ten minutes away from a tram ride back to the valley.
First stop is Corbets, THE couloir on mountain. It’s THE run that every one has to ski or at least look at while they’re here. Summer is no different, every vacationer has to look down the couloir and marvel at the madmen who ski it. We have to endure the inane chatter.
“There’s no fucking way I’d ski that…”
“It take’s some serious sack to drop into that…”
“Getting into it is the hard part…”
“Don’t get too close to the edge…”
“I’m scared of heights…”
“Hey look, there’s people climbing over there…”
“Daddy, what are those men doing…”
“The really good climbers put their own screws into the rock…”
“There’s no fucking way I’d climb that…”
Center stage at the geek show has its advantages. We’re reward with great climbing up finger pockets, sharp edges, layback flakes, under-clings, pinches, and nubbins. After a few routes it’s time to move on.
Once you rap into the S&S couloir you’re committed; you’ve got to either climb out or make a long, loose scramble down and out to Corbets. As soon as we pull our rope, the weather forecast proves its accuracy, a light drizzle begins to fall. Damn, so much an easy ride back down to the car.
A nice lead across a slightly chossy hand traverse puts my partner at the base of our escape route, a bolted 5.7 arete. The drizzle increases while I clean the traverse. “Maybe we can wait a few minutes to see if this stops.”
The steady drizzle continues. There is a moment of resignation when we realize that our lives are going to be unpleasant for a while regardless of what we choose to do.
My partner takes a quick glance down the couloir, “I don’t like the looks of that.”
“Nope. I don’t want to walk outta here.”
“The rock doesn’t look too wet. The rain seems to be evaporating almost as fast as it’s falling.” Another glance down, “Besides, it’s a clean fall.”
“Right. Gimme the draws.” Off I go.
At the first bolt the situation changes. “Hail is good. Hail is drier than rain, right?”
At the second bolt the hail is starting to sting. The calming ritual of chalking up only coats my wet fingers in white paste. I announce to my partner and the world in general that I’m scared shitless. Wonder if this is what British climbing is like? Where are the tram loads of people to witness this feat of daring and madness? Wow, it’s been a while since I had to lead something in the rain, time to stop the mental wanderings and move. With a mantra of “Gimme jugs”, I set off for the next distant looking bolt. My mantra works and good holds lead me past the next three bolts to the chains.
While I belay, another tram goes by. I can only imagine what’s said about the two lunatics on the rock, “No fucking way I’d climb that in the rain…”
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thun
Sep 14, 2004, 10:09 PM
Post #2 of 2
(1290 views)
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Registered: Dec 19, 2003
Posts: 201
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i was just up there for a backpacking trip...wish i'd gotten some climbing in while i was there. although, i can proudly say i didn't haul my pack up to the top with that sissy tram. :D
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