Tuesday, October 28, 2008

NAKED, EDGY

(The Naked Edge follows the middle arete, tracing the line between light & shadow to the top. The top photo shows the "left" side (check the overhanging headwall at the top), and the photo below shows the "right" side.)Climbing projects begin with an inkling, an inspiration, and a vision of ultimate success. You need not register, pay an entry fee, or show up at some predesignated time. Climbers trace lines up rocks and imagine themselves up there, in an environment that mocks them and tells them to go back to where they came from. We are not supposed to be up there, but we show up anyway. For whatever reason, I've spent the majority of my life inspired to put myself in these wild places. I've had aspirations to climb "The Naked Edge" in Eldorado Canyon for years, but only recently have I developed the confidence to know I can succeed. Climbing "The Edge" in Eldo has been a long time coming for both me and my good buddy Matt "Ping Ping" Battaglia. On Friday, October 24th, he and I paid a visit to our "church," to flirt with our maker.

Matt and I arrived in Eldo early enough to get chilled by the classic Eldo "wind machine" in the parking lot. Yet the sun was already waiting for us on the first pitch. We racked up and quickly hiked to the base of the "ramp" route, which gives quick and easy access to the route. Matt and I simul-climbed the first 5.6 pitch until rope drag became bad enough for me to want to stop. A two-bolt anchor was right in front of my face, just when I needed it. Matt followed, and continued climbing up through the funky "cave" pitch. While a fairly easy pitch, climbing through the cave offers weird protection. It is only 5.8+ climbing, but there's a stark contrast between leading a following this pitch. Matt got through it and quickly set up the belay.

I climbed as fast as I could to the belay, and Matt began to rerack immediately. I was so psyched to be up there with Ping; he is such a solid Eldo climber and is incredibly strong right now, despite being immersed in P.A. school There we were, at the base of the real route after climbing a solid 200 feet of approach pitches. I had imagined myself there so many times that to actually be there in that moment (during what would normally be a work day, no less), was bizarre and invigorating. It was Matt's lead; he's been on this pitch multiple times, and we figured it would be most efficient if he led this pitch. Matt moved smoothly up through the initial 5.10 moves to the notorius, solid stance. Moving off of this stance is known as the crux of the pitch. Matt was hesitant, not quite able to crack the code of those funky moves off the stance. After multiple attempts, I offered to give it a go. Matt agreed, and I lowered him to the belay.

I climbed quickly through the first 5.10 section, moving fast more out of impatience than skill. I was anxious to get on the upper pitches of the climb, which neither of us had climbed before. I got to the stance, and pulled through the move, fully adrenalized. The climbing here is delicate and technical; climbing it is like trying to thread a needle with fuzzy yarn--possible but funky and if you miss, it only gets fuzzier and more difficult. As I climbed a few moves past Matt's highpoint I struggled to place a small cam. I quickly clipped the piece and struggled to move past it. Suddenly, POP! I let out a shriek, my foot came off, and I fell off. The cam held. I quickly regrouped and got back on despite the pump. I fell again trying to ease my right foot onto the one good foothold I could find. Once again, and again despite being pumped, I got back on. I slotted my left hand (Or was it my right? I was too impatient to care) into a good lock, and finished the pitch.

Matt came up to the belay easily. The second pitch was next--a runout 5.9 slab with a couple bolts on it, then around the corner to a 5.10b crack. Again, it was my lead. I sketched through the slab, trying hard to keep my head in check. Rumor has it that if you fall off the other side of the "edge," it would cut your rope. I don't think that's true, but such lore is strong when it's right there in your face, so falling off the slab was a horrific thought. I couldn't quite stop shaking as I continued up the slab.

I managed to clip the bolts in the corner and made the transition to the left side of the "edge." While the holds here were good, the exposure was sickening, and the climbing just delicate enough to keep me shaking. I found the textbook nut placement, but as I was fiddling with the wrong size nut, I pulled it out and managed to yank myself off the wall. Again, POP! I was outta there. I inadvertently let go of the nut, and it fell to the void below. (The photo below shows a climber at exactly the same position I was before I fell.) I was shocked that I fell off, and even more shocked that a marginal, tiny cam held me. I surprised myself that I wasn't more scared, but the climbing felt solid enough, and I was psyched to keep pushing it. I got back on the wall, managed to find the good nut placement, and finished the pitch. Again, Matt followed and made quick work of it all.The third pitch, and again my lead. This pitch, while very exposed and exciting, is about 5.9 and standard "Eldo" fare: solid rock broken up by rotten bands of dense, fractured choss. Aside from horrific rope drag and a decidedly UNenjoyable mantle move, this pitch went smoothly. I'll remember to bring more long slings next time. Lesson learned.

The most exciting part about this pitch was arriving to find a tattered rope slung around a block for the belay anchors. I was imagining two beefy bolts under the overhang, offering a slight sense of security there. Naw...just a couple ropes around a block. I clipped in and struggled to pull up the slack in the rope in order to get Matt on belay. Matt climbed up, and aside from the annoying mantle move on the right side of the arete, climbed the third pitch without a problem.

Now we were at the business of the climb-the notorius pitch 4. (The photo below shows a 70s hippie hiking the hard shit.)Difficult climbing never looks so bad from below, but the intimidation factor of this pitch was suffocating. While at this point we had gotten in more of a groove, it was also getting later in the day, almost 3:30. Neither of us wanted an epic on this day.

Matt racked up and climbed through the 10c beginning smoothly. He was quickly perplexed, though, as to how to get into the chimney. The climbing looked desperately delicate from my position at the belay, and I was basically in awe of Matt's ability to suck it up and go for it. The fourth pitch of "The Naked Edge" is the real deal no matter how experienced you are, and Matt tackled the pitch full on. I was barely able to stay cool even at the belay! The overhang doesn't help, and neither does the 700 feet of nothingness underneath your feet. Suddenly I realized that everything I had ever read about the "exciting" aspect of this pitch was indeed so terrifyingly true...

And yet, our work on this pitch was anti-climactic. I was stressed about time, and Matt was frustrated and understandably gripped about the possibility of falling and shearing out the notoriously questionable fixed pin at his feet (later that day he spoke with Justin Sjong about this pitch, and Justin confirmed that the pitch is indeed the real thing). And so, I called it. I recommended that we bag it. Matt agreed without protest, and we spent the next hour rapelling the entire 600 feet to the ground.

This was an important trip for me: I have focused more on climbing this summer and fall, relegating cyclocross to second fiddle after focusing heavily on 'cross for ten years. I was very excited to climb "Eldo 5.11" (thin, delicate, funky) high up on the Redgarden Wall. What better route to do this on than the "Edge"? After that day, "Eldo 5.11" seems like not such a big deal. Finally, I was so grateful to climb the route with one of my best friends and climbing partners. At the end of the day, I left feeling satisfied and happy to have climbed so well with Matt--a true testament to our long friendship. We hadn't climbed on a long route together for at least a couple years, but that didn't matter-we know our strengths and weaknesses well, and our rope and gear management was incredibly streamlined and solid. Despite hanging it out there, there was no drama, no histrionics, and nothing emotional. Hell, even our ropes managed to not get stuck on any of our 6 rappels to the ground. Another beautiful day of sunny Colorado rock climbing...I'll take what I can get.