Southern Sierra Climber

Rattlesnake! Western Diamond BackTaken just late last year. Probably headed to hibernate.. Not something fun to see when your lost! I wear size 10 Larry Zulim           DD photo Bruce 'Slick' Watts keeping a watchful eye on Dwight Kroll deep into the sharp end of 5.10

                                                                             

Second Ascent of 'Entasis' 5.11..climber..James Cook

Crux of 'King of Pain'  EC Joe route

Larry Z on  'Jammies'  Dan on First Ascent of 'The Ragged Edge' Dan and LarryL. Zulim on First Free Ascent of 'Four Kings'  I reposted this story from Sam Gitchel........                                                        Sam on Fresno Dome....

It's hard to imagine life without climbing, but now I'm weighing it. These days I'm grateful to be able to walk around the block. These days I'm aware how much human misery stems from innocent mistakes. We don't have to do something mean-spirited or overwhelmingly stupid to cause a catastrophe. It happens in the blink of an eye.

It's a social climbing day…. the six of us doing short climbs and topropes, all with a friendly mix of kibitzing and encouraging. We are on the south face of High Eagle Dome, a beautiful world of granite with grand views out across the broad drainage of the North Fork of the San Joaquin, all the way to Mammoth Mountain. At 7000 feet, the air in October is cool and the sun is warm.

When the others call it a day, my partner Nancy and I stay around for more top rope. I rig a fairly complicated anchor, and like clockwork, follow the routine like a thousand times before…. adjust the slings to get the biners just over the edge, clip the rope, oppose the gates, test the anchors, yell "rope," toss it down, jam the rope through my ATC.

The rope tangles but I push it down, figuring I can clear the kinks as I go. I inch my way over the edge. We just did the climb 15 feet to the left, so I know there's enough rope. OK, gently lower on to the biners, and take one last look at the anchor. All the friends look solid. It's equalized. OK lean back and rap. I'm not above taking a little preview of the route as I slowly make my way down. Would that big rounded flake go as a lieback?.. OH SHIT this can't be happening….the end of my rope slips through my ATC in a flash..

Whish. THUD. Gonnngggg. Oh my head. My leg is numb. Something's wrong with my back. Shit it hurts. Shit it hurts. Let's see…. I'm at Shuteye Ridge. I was toproping….I think I remember who I was with. Shit I didn't center the rope. It was weird amnesic feeling, but with I could remember everything, except the second or two falling.

…………..

I fell about 25 feet to a fairly flat, clear ledge, butt first. I knew something was very wrong with my lower back. My right leg was electrified, stunned, immovable. My head was bleeding. Nancy, a physician, quickly checked me out then ran to get our friends before they left. She caught them just in time, and they more or less carried me out. A twenty-minute approach became a two-hour evacuation.

Five hours later I was in the ER and the nightmarish saga with the medical system began. That's another story; I'll just say that it included misdiagnosis, an unresponsive system, and lots of pain. I had fractures of the sacrum, a part of the pelvis, and three vertebrae. With this injury there is no cast, no brace…you just take it easy and get pain relief while healing takes its bitter sweet time. These were three months from hell for Nancy, my constant care giver and advocate against the sludged up bureaucracy of Health Net.

Now, six months later, I especially enjoy Leonard Cohn's line, "I ache in the places I used to play." I expect to continue healing, but the nerve damage that causes a constant burning pain in one foot may or may not heal. This spring I have been back on the rock a few times and it felt pretty good, but in the cruel twist Nancy bore the emotional brunt of the accident as empathetic, kind caregivers often do. (I was on opiates through the worst parts). So I am observing a climbing moratorium out of regard for the wounds she still feels so deeply.

There was no good excuse for my mistake. Maybe I was a little hasty…this was to be our last climb of the day. And as the sun began to sink we could feel the late afternoon chill moving in. I was in an uncomfortable position to set up the anchor and I was eager to get down and try the climb. The rope tangle was one more distraction, but really this wasn't much different from a hundred end-of-the-day top ropes.

Can I trust myself to be a safe climber? Do I lack the requisite focus to climb safely? The most disheartening thing is that I knew that all too many climbing accidents are rappel screw ups. I knew to be compulsive about checking everything. I did double-check most parts of the system…..I just forgot one.

Thanks for checking in! I'm doing this blog because the guide is out of print and information from the old days is slowly fading. I have lots of old topos and pictures. Most from the day, which was 80's on. I was really lucky to be learning photography and climbing at the same time with some of the Boldest and Hard Core Trad Climbers that local history has ever seen! The routes that were put up have stood the test of time. This is a work in progress and I intend to add to it each week. There will be some recent stuff too from areas your interested in. DANGER....alot of the routes I'm showing here still have the old 1/4' steel bolts which are Death Clips by now! Beware of this. Climbing is Dangerous! I've added a Tip Jar. Its my hope that this Blog gives you lots of inspiration to get out there and Climb! There's photos that you can take from here, 98% of which are mine. Lots of time and bushwacks and film went into these. There's Beta that you can't get anywhere else. All of this is priceless. The part that costs is Data. I live in a low reception area and all the data is not unlimited! I pay monthly for a minimum allowed here and hope to defer some costs. Hope this explains it as I hesitated to ask for any....       NPS photo  

Daniel Jeffcoach Photo

Daniel Jeffcoach Photo another fine Daniel Leach photo  Angel Wings South Arete, V 5.11+

February 6-12, 2002

Jason Magness & Craig Clarence (writer)

As fall turned into winter last year, it occurred to me that I had let the

Sierra climbing season slip away.  Too much cragging, too many

expeditions, not enough time spent climbing in my favorite mountain

range. Could I work in a backcountry route, now that winter was here?  The

obvious partner for such a climb was my good friend Jason Magness, who was

attempting new routes in Patagonia this time last year.  

Kicking around ideas, Jason asked about the toughest Sierra

backcountry rock climb I've been considering.  Well, Angel Wings has the

toughest moves of any route in John Moynier's Sierra Classics book.  What

about the most remote route?  Angel Wings again. In doing the (possible)

first winter ascent of the peak and (probable) first winter ascent of the

South Arete, the choice for maximal suffering seemed clear.

But was it even possible?  In the summer the formation has a 16 mile

approach, but in the winter we had to contend with an additional 3 miles

as the Moro Rock spur road was closed.  Neither of us had climbed in the

area, and we assumed that finding the snow-covered trail in the heavy

Sierra west-side forest would be the crux of the trip. 

Having a party of 3 on the route seemed prudent, but recruiting another

partner proved impossible. Jason flew into Orange County from North

Dakota, and we left the next morning.  There is (or was, it's melting

fast) about three feet of snow at the Moro Rock turnoff where we parked,

mostly from a big storm that had swept through the previous week.  From

the car we started hiking in thin poly-pro and no shirts, which was to be

our hiking attire for most the trip.  It was so warm it almost felt like

cheating.

When we lost the trail in the snow in Crescent Meadow after walking three

miles, I sensed imminent disaster.  We quickly regained the trail,

however, and had only a few minor detours over the next 16 miles.

Although the trail was about 95% covered in snow, it was fairly obvious

most the way.  The tough parts were the north-facing slopes, where snow

was deep enough to not form a trail-like impression, and the switchbacks,

which were difficult to distinguish from the surrounding features.

So, after three days of snow-shoed walking (two half days and one full

day) we arrived at the base of Angel Wings.  The wall soared above us,

completely clear of snow - we were psyched.  As a born pessimist, I hadn't

given us much of a chance of even seeing the wall, and here we were within

striking distance!  With the short days, we decided to plan on a bivy.

The idea was for the second to ascend the lead line using Tiblocs, while

wearing the pack with the bivy gear.  However, trying to ascend a

near-vertical wall with a relatively heavy pack proved too difficult, so

we hauled the pack on any pitch over 5.9. 

There was no warm-up on this climb - I pulled off my plastic boots, put on

the rock shoes, and started climbing 5.10 off the snow.  The rock was

beautiful, clean Yosemite-like granite, and it was so warm I could have

been climbing in shorts.  By the time I got to the end of each pitch, I'd

be sweating profusely in my full Gortex suit, but I didn't want to take

the time to remove it and I knew it would get cold enough later that I

would be happy to have it.

I had quite a scare on the 3rd pitch, pulling around the loose block

indicated in the topo.  This thing is really huge and appears to be

delicately balanced on a small perch.  I pulled over a small roof and

pulled back on a flake, not knowing it was the block.  The flake started

moving outward, and I quickly stopped pulling, whereupon the flake settled

back against the wall. Jason, ascending the lines after I finished the

pitch, didn't even notice the block - it's so big and not obviously loose

that it just looks like part of the face.

The route follows a nearly continuous crack system, all the way up to the

5.11+ "Black Roof."  To speed things along, I didn't hesitate to

French free whenever I felt the need.  Also to save time, we led in

blocks, which meant my leads got us up to roof, where it was Jason's

turn.  He pulled on a few pieces to get over the 6 foot roof (including a

"fixed" #1 Camalot which I easily cleaned).  Then the fun began.  After

the roof the route traversed straight right, through a gully, and then

onto the arete again.  I guess the gully is dry in the summer because in

all the route descriptions I read, there was no mention of the raging

creek that now flowed down it.  Plus the gully was steep, much more like a

chimney.

This was one of those situations where you feel bad for your partner

leading the pitch, but that feeling pales in comparison to the feeling of

relief that YOU aren't leading it. Jason did a few badly protected moves

to get across the water, then had to move up.  At this point the rope

stopped moving for 45 minutes.  Stuck under the Black Roof, I had no idea

what was going on and it was deadly silent except for the water flowing

by.

Finally he yelled, "I guess I have no choice but this could be a big

one!"  The rope moved up steadily and Jason was soon at the anchor.  It

turned out that the delay was the result of Jason trying to decide which

way to face inside the chimney:  the side pouring with water, or the

relatively dry side.  He ended up with his back pressed against the wall

with the flowing water, no pro for 15 feet (and only marginal pro below

that), water cascading over his back.  When I finished ascending the

lines, Jason tipped our only chalk bag over and poured out so much water I

expected to see a fish come out.

The next pitch got us further up the chimneys, and Jason found a ledge

just as it was getting dark.  Unfortunately it too was pouring with water,

but we found a section way off to the side that was only half wet.  A

painful but not horrible bivy ensued, and the three packs of ramen we

cooked up in our little titanium pot definitely were a morale booster.  At

least we didn't have to worry about drinking water.

The next morning it was my lead again.  At this point we had the choice of

following the first-ascent line taken by Rowell and Jones in 1971, or

doing the direct variation on the very crest of the arete put up by

Leversee in 1984.  The Rowell/Jones gully looked full of ice, flowing

water, and squeeze chimneys, but seemed to offer a quicker way to the

summit plateau, so I picked the gully.  Wrong choice.  Without an axe or

crampons, I tried to chimney above the ice in my plastic boots, eventually

wriggling out of the chimneys after two pitches into a lower-angle gully

filled with snow.  The ice I knocked down on Jason had nearly taken him

out, and my new rope took several core shots.

Jason fought through the squeeze chimneys wearing the pack, and we both

thought we were home free.  No such luck.  At the top of the 300 foot snow

gully, we looked down from a sharp arete into the next gully west, which

is the main gully that splits the south face of Angel Wings. It completely

blocked our access to the summit plateau.  Moving up the arete looked like

several more pitches of steep rock, so we rappelled 300 feet into the main

gully and then had to walk back up several hundred feet in the snow.

Finally, we were granted access to the summit plateau.

The descent to the west was relatively straightforward, with a few rappels

required to get over ice patches before we regained the trail above Lone

Pine Creek.  We left the now-shredded ropes and climbing gear on the trail

to dry, and walked back to our camp at Lower Hamilton Lake.  Neither of us

slept much that night, the adrenaline still pumping.  With lighter packs

and food in the car motivating us, the walk out took less than 2 days.

 

 

The Saddle of the Hermit where many climbs can be accessedGetting on the First PitchRacking up on the First Pitch Old School  Pitch Two....alittle Run out with a Knob