Thin Ice
Lindy, very much by her own admission, is no bold hero. Indeed, upon being informed that something is 'fairly safe' or 'not too scary', she has been known to reply "well that's easy for you to say, but you don't have the middle name 'chicken'!" This not withstanding, I often find myself fascinated by her internal battles that often play out not so internally (climb up, climb down, curse, climb up, climb down, curse some more...). In reality, I think that even though a lot of her climbing-fears are more overt than say my own, the similarities are greater than the differences. Undoubtedly this would surprise her, but there are probably more universals than uniques in terms of climbing fears.
So, the route Thin Ice, Lindy climbed the first 30m of the splitter crack - steady away. But at the crux these psychological battles became more visibly evident, and obstructive to upwards progress. There was no resolution this time, except to lower off and ask me to finish the pitch for her. A blow to one's confidence if anything is.
The second pitch is a grade easier, but as is often the way on granite, the grade matters less than the price of fish. It's a flared v-slot (I initially intended to elaborate on the difficulties that this entails, but in reality, if you need to ask, then you'll never really know). Upon her arrival at the stance, quickly volunteered herself to lead it. What?! I have no idea where this reversal in her headspace came from; the willingness to put herself back into the firing line of the unknown.
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| Lindy halfway up the slot. If squirming progress can be measured in calories, Lindy has at least 2000 of energy expenditure left to go (copyright Andy Reeve) |
Obviously Lindy had had a word with herself. Her climbing wasn't fast, and it wasn't pretty, but eventually she sqeezed her way to the top of the slot and extricated herself into the upper crack (and thereafter the summit, glory etc etc..)
(I'm not quite a) Romantic Warrior
At the end of my last post I said that we had managed to avoid any drama. Well, to rectify this I badgered Lindy into agreeing to second me on Romantic Warrior. If this route were anywhere else, it would be an oft-attempted testpiece. Much like the rest of Needles climbing however, it still somehow holds onto an air of mystique. As with the rest of the climbing here, information is harder to come by (the topos are sometimes wrong), other than about half a dozen routes the climbs are rarely attempted, and the area feels wild and remote. This slightly eerie feeling is both reflected and enhanced by the names of the individual needles: the Sorceror, Warlock, Charlaton...
Surprisingly, given that as far as we were aware no one had been on the route for the whole week we were there, we coincidently shared the route with another pair (Max and Emma) on the day we chose to try it. We climbed with grace and ease for three pitches (because they're easy, rather than any reflection on our ability), after which progress became somewhat less forthcoming. A technical groove pitch preceeded a steep foothold-less traverse which left me wondering how it can be possible to get so pumped on such big holds? (although I didn't have much time to ponder this question, as I sprinted for the ledge at the end). Lindy informed me she thought that seconding this pitch was "dreadful" and she "hated it", but this was more to do with her British-style aid technique of just yarding on the gear, getting pumped and scared of a penduluming fall, and being on terrain 6 grades above her usual standard. Of course, I had made her carry the bag again as well. A truer reflection of the quality of the climbing would be encapsulated by the word 'flawless'.
Another easy pitch lead us to the base of the 'Book of Deception' pitch. I love it when pitches are given their individual name, especially when it sounds forboding like this. I thought it was a bit of a misnomer however. It looks blank and holdless, and lo and behold, blank and holdless it indeed is. Well, not entirely holdless, as I did make some progress, but the main difficulty came from placing fiddly RPs whilst using a bewildering combination of smearing both feet on alternating walls, crimping the edge of the crack, opposition palming and a variety of other techniques for which I have no words. Pumped, in my arms legs and mind, and unable to hold myself still for long enough to place an RP (the best I could manage was to take them from my harness and put them immediately back again), I stuffed in a blue alien that I knew wouldn't hold a fall. This presented me with the dilemma of whether to try to rest on the cam which might just rip out, or to push on and risk a fall onto the blue cam which would then certainly rip out. Fortunately I did not have the time to become too anxious about making this decision, as I only had to climb one more move before I fell off. The cam popped out (it is, of course, reassuring to know that I can assess poor protection as being unreliable, however, rather than reflect on this at the time I just swore at the cam and swore at the rock).
Sat on the rope recovering, the way ahead was suddenly far clearer and what I should have done became obvious from the comfort of my harness. I finished the pitch with just one sit on the rope. Disappointing in some ways, but there's only so hard I can try.
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| A regular occurence at the Needles - a fighter jet about to fly over head whilst Lindy sorts the ropes on Romantic Warrior (copyright Andy Reeve) |
By the final pitch I was burnt out. Physically and mentally (I wanted it to feel easy, but it wasn't, which in an ironic and peverse trick of the mind always makes things feel even harder than need be). To make matters worse, I hadn't made Lindy carry enough food or water in the bag, so I was parched and felt weak. This, I like to think, is a great exemplar of getting in one's excuses early. Yes, you may have guessed, I fell off again (like I said, I was very thirsty and very hungry remember.) The only reason I continued to the top of the pitch was that it was the fastest way down.
Our friends Max and Emma had obtained their information on the descent from a different source, and so carried all their kit up with them and were now gayly abseiling down the other side of the pinnacle to the trail head and an easy walk back to camp. In a stern rejection of common sense in preference for the information we had read online (I still can't believe we didn't just work this out for ourselves), we on the other hand did some awful pain-in-the-neck abseils back down the route, over bulges and back across the big traverse, all against the clock as the sun was already under the horizon. In a repeat of my first visit here, we barely made it back to the base and our stashed kit with any daylight left (I like to think there is a lot to be said for consistency). This was a much less pleasant a way to finish, with the added anti-bonus of a curse-inducing slog back up the gully. Feeling somewhat less than fresh, the level of coaxing I required from Lindy on this uphill part increased from verbal prompts to hands-on physical pushing me upwards on the steepest parts. Thanks Lindy!.
A few more photos
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| Two climbers on Atlantis on the Sorcerror (5.11c). Thin Ice follows the crackline about halfway between them and the left edge (copyright Andy Reeve) |
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| Lindy making her way through weird blobs as she follows the top pitch of Spooky (5.9) on the Charlaton (copyright Andy Reeve) |
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| Lindy reading in the tent at the Needles campground in Sequoia National Forest (copyright Andy Reeve) |
