Fear and Loathing in Zion - Duncan Lee
By Duncan Lee
Saturday January 22nd. 2.30am. Whaley Bridge.
"OK, as long as you lead the aid pitches."
With these slurred words by Steve a deal was struck. Zion here we come.
Friday April 28th. 6.30am. Zion National Park, Utah.
"Duncan, get up you lazy sod!"
The customary polite Bowker alarm bellow roused me from my slumbers to another clear-skied desert day. It was going to be hot. A hasty breakfast fortified us for the arduous approach up Zion Canyon past numerous spectacular rock formations, grazing Mule deer and foraging Wild Turkeys. Finally after a whole ten minutes we got out of the car a vast two hundred yards from the base of the Cerberus Gendarme; a smooth 1,200 feet high barrel shaped buttress of Navajo Sandstone capped by a huge diving board like roof on the left. Fortunately our chosen climb, Touchstone Wall, followed a crack system up the right side of the formation but unfortunately it also had a team of three at its base and a portaledge suspended several hundred feet above. With our plan of a fast light in a day ascent now in tatters we beat a retreat to the campground for a second breakfast and a rethink.
Saturday April 29th. 5.30 am.
"Duncan, get up you lazy sod!"
6.20am.
"I don't believe it there's a *#%king portaledge at the top of pitch one."
Steve eloquent as ever had summed up the situation nicely but I could not resist directing a few expletives of my own at the ledges sleeping occupants. Once we had calmed down we decided to go for it anyway hoping that the element of surprise might win the day. After quickly and quietly racking up I set off aiding up a line of drilled angles that connected the thin C1 (clean aid, no hammer required) crack to the ground. The first taste of clean aiding went well with bombproof nut slots leading rapidly up to the purple fabric overhang complete with its slumbering burden. Loudly shouting "Morning" soon woke them up however. A bout of swearing ensued overhead before a head appeared over the edge of the ledge to return the compliments of the day and to apologise for being in the way. Finally after a five minute delay the ledge was swung to one side to reveal two climbers dwarfed by an enormous pile of kit. Everything but the kitchen sink. Once I had joined them on the 5-bolt belay Steve began to jumar as the bleary eyed team breakfasted and thankfully approved an overtaking manoeuvre.
The crux of pitch two (my lead again) was clambering over the heaps of gear and humans to get to the rock up which a C2 crack led to an overhang. The initial couple of placements were a bit worrying (especially for those below) but the slots quickly improved so I was soon under the roof eying up a frayed piece of string through the eye of a rurp. Gulp! To add insult to injury a sling dangled tantalisingly out of reach from the lip but mercifully a closer inspection of the rock revealed a good wire placement that negated using the dreaded rurp. Above the airy roof the crack soared up the smooth face swallowing any number of wires, #3 to 8, that you could throw at it. Another agonising hanging belay in ets heralded the end of the two full rope lengths of aid. Time to put on the rock shoes and hand the sharp end and the monster rack over to Steve.
Above the stance the angle eased back to the vertical with occasional desert varnished flakes and plates clinging to the wall on either side of the immaculate finger crack that leads ever upwards. Much to Steve's relief the fissure continued to eat gear and gradually widened to thin hands as he progressed steadily up the technical crux (5.11-) of the route to yet another hanging stance. Thankfully, the next pitch of thin hand jamming was short and quickly led to the first ledge on the face and a spot of relief for the feet. We revelled in the comfort whilst finishing off one of our two water bottles before Steve set forth on the climbs final 5.10 pitch. A long strenuous sustained thin hand crack that snaked its way through two bulges on route to a large comfortable stance and an easing in the angle of the buttress. The unrelenting nature and length (160ft) of this pitch forced us both to relapse into aiding on the trickier moves thus slowing our progress. No disaster in itself but that was soon to follow. Whilst negotiating one of the bulges the remaining full water bottle became detached from my harness. As I felt it go I screamed a warning as the bottle whistled down the face towards the team below. Luckily it glanced off a sloping shelf and arced out spectacularly over their heads spinning wildly as it plunged straight towards the hire car in the canyon below. Thankfully it impacted into the bushes a mere ten yards from its target. You had to laugh! There was no point in wasting any moisture by crying.
Once Steve had finished berating me we briefly considered abseiling off but the buttress was now in the shade of mid afternoon and we only had five pitches of 5.8 and 5.9+ remaining. We decided to press on upwards and onwards with the added bonus of inwards into the depths of an offwidth, which provided the entertainment on the next pitch. Disgusting strenuous thrutching, more akin to caving than climbing, facilitated progress in the right direction. My reward for the struggle was a spacious ledge upon which to belay below an appealing corner system up which Steve's pitch led. He quickly ascended this enjoyable but sandy rope length that again led to a comfortable belay below a hideous looking fist crack. Large cam territory once more.
Initially the crack angled leftwards under a bulge where a ramp allowed progress to be made by a combination of fist jamming and back and footing. The fissure then took a ninety-degree turn to the right that necessitated turning completely round to layback through the bulge on fist jams to gain an easier corner crack. This provided a brief rest place before battle was commenced with the squeeze chimney above. Once more frantic wriggling won the day. Sitting on the huge belay ledge anchored to an enormous pine a feeling of smugness descended on me as I contemplated Steve's unenviable task. Following that lot with a rucksack. My self-satisfaction even caused me to giggle.
A spot of jiggery pokery and a large quantity of swearing eventually saw Steve at the stance. The route then followed a spectacular traverse leftwards, protected by drilled angles, to another huge platform from which a short scary 5.6 pitch on poor rock ended all difficulties. By this time it was early evening, with only an hour or so of daylight left, so we quickly took a couple of photographs and scrambled over the summit of the formation to the descent gully.
The gully cuts back a long way from the rim of the canyon and descends in a series of steps separated by scrambling. With several short abseils already completed everything was going well. We were approximately half way down, the pub was calling and the light was holding. Just! Then disaster number two of the day; the dreaded jammed rope scenario. Steve's hasty efforts to reascend the pitch were soon thwarted by complete darkness. At this stage I suffered a complete sense of humour failure for a few minutes. The fact that I had run out of cigarettes was a pure coincidence.
Once I'd stopped ranting and raving and accepted our fate we settled down for the night on the sizable sandy shelf that we were stranded on; things could have been worse. We even managed to collect a substantial pile of firewood which we "ignited with a sulphur preparation" and the topo. After attempting to force cookies down our parched throats we slumped by the fire for nine hours of uncomfortable dozing; constantly changing position to keep warm on a chill desert night.
At first light it took a valiant effort from Steve to drag himself away from the warmth of the fire to complete his re-ascent of the last abseil to free the rope. With this task undertaken we quickly finished the remaining abseils to our rucksacks for much needed refreshment. A mere 26 hours after starting the climb and 18 hours since I had thrown the remaining water off the wall. As we gulped eagerly from our water bottles there was suddenly lovely refreshing, revitalising water everywhere. It was even falling from above out of a cloudless sky. Suddenly reality dawned on my tired mind.
"Is some bastard up there having a piss?!"
"Hey sorry dude" came the response from above.
