Castles in the Sand

Sometimes you see a feature, a line, a wall, a mountain that just captures your imagination. In an instant, it just goes from being pretty scenery, to being a concrete objective. You can no longer look at it without making a plan, visualizing the moves, reaching for your chalkbag.

The Castle Valley ridgeline is such a feature for me, so much so that you can see the photo on the header of this blog. A serpentine line of piled dirt and sand, the ridge is capped with five proud towers, jutting up the remains of a Chinese wall. It's an obvious and compelling objective, to traverse the length of the ridge, and to summit each tower along the way.

Last fall, with my frequent partner-in-sending, Blake, I made a jaunt out to Castle Valley to attempt the "Castle Valley Enchainment". Though normally adept at logistics, we punted on the first attempt, underestimating the difficulty of walking the ridgeline, planning on walking both out and back, and picking a late fall day that was both too short, too cold (in the morning), and too hot (in the afternoon). Having one gallon of cached water taken (by well meaning but unhelpful fellow climbers) didn't help either, and the day ended with both of us totally parched, trudging back to camp in the dark, having only sent three towers.

The initial failure, however, only increased my desire to return and try again. At first, I had thought it might be too easy, just a leisurely day of ridge walking and climbing, nothing challenging or memorable. But after being bouted royally, it was clear to me that this was a worthy goal.

So last week, with Blake in the passenger seat, and now a bike in the trunk, I sped over the Rocky Mountains, pointed west to the glorious red desert of Utah. We pulled into the mostly full Castleton camping area, and quickly threw down bivy gear and tried to get some good rest. Early the next morning, we took our time making coffee, frying breakfast burritos, and building up the psyche.

Blake maximizing the food-value of our "send-wiches" the night before the linkup

A full view of the ridge. From left to right: Convent, Sister Superior, The Priest and Rectory (overlapping in this shot), and Castleton.

A brisk uphill walk brought us to the first tower of the day: the Rectory. Though Castleton would be the logical first tower, the South-east facing route "Fine Jade" (5.11-) enticed us in the chilly morning. This route was not new to either of us, and we cruised up and down the three pitches of amazing crack climbing in about an hour. A short walk later, we were at the base of the "North Face of Castleton" (5.11-). Since I'd never been on it, Blake graciously offered me all the leads, and I savored the perfectly cut Wingate splitters, occasionally iced with Calcite edges. Again three pitches, this tower took maybe another hour, and we felt confident having established such a quick start.

Me leading on the North Face of Castleton, P1. Blake Herrington photo.

The Priest, also new to me, was definitely a highlight. We chose the classic route "Honeymoon Chimney" (5.11-). Put up by the all-star team of Layton Kor, Fred Beckey, and Harvey T Carter, this unique route is more of a vertical spelunking expedition than a tower route. After a first pitch of wide laybacking, you enter the chasm in the heart of the tower, and proceed to chimney up most to the way, protected from the infinite Castle Valley exposure by massive walls of sandstone. Finally, on the last pitch you emerge for an airy crux move onto an arete, and the romp around the tower for an easy summit pitch.

Blake, trying not to get stuck, on (in?) the first pitch of Honeymoon Chimneys

After the Priest, we had the first major ridge crossing, which had drained us last fall. This time, though, the day was mostly overcast, and we were protected from the brutal desert sun. Using some interesting fixed lines fixed to big chunks of rebar, we descended onto the knife-edged ridge and ran across towards Sister Superior.

The ridgeline, looking north from Castleton

Another favorite route, "Jah-man" (5.10) was not new to either of us. This didn't stop us, though, from enjoying two amazing pitches of chimneys, handcracks, and the obligatory sandy top-out. Finally, we had four towers down, but the crux remained.

The first part of the crux was simply getting to the final "tower", the Convent. I'm not sure of the true definition of tower, and the Convent might actually be a mesa. It is perhaps a quarter mile long, and caps the north end of the Castle Ridge. The narrow and eroding bridge of dirt that connects Sister Superior to the Convent proved tricky, but the real slog was traversing under the entire bulk of the mesa, side-hilling on loose gravel and ball-bearings, constantly having to out-run gravity and the forces of erosion.

Consuming the send-wiches

The route, "The Value of Audacity" (5.11++) would be final challenge. By far the hardest and least traveled of the routes, VoA features a massive roof on its first pitch. We had fortunately tried this last fall, so we had some idea of what we were up against. Blake led up first, re-sussing the sequence out the tiny underclings and crimps. A huge toss with the left hand gains a jug at the lip, but the feet are all but useless on the overhanging sandy wall below. Blake tries valiantly for a while, and then lowers back to the belay and we trade rope ends.

Benefiting from his beta, and my added 6" of reach, I gain the jug. Once there, though, I spend five minute trying to find the correct knee-bar position that will allow me to reach up and around into that tantalizing hand-crack. Finally as the pump-clock is about to expire, I get a perfect right leg knee bar, pivot around the lip, lock in the hand jam, and pull around into a welcome rest.

The remainder of the route is cruiser cracks, and we top out in two more pitches just as the sun nears the Western horizon. One more challenge: getting down! The previous fall, we'd had two 60m ropes, which made for an easy descent off the route to the left. This time, we opted to go light and bring just one 70m cord, and try an unknown descent to the right. After finding a more-or-less stable boulder to sling, we rapped onto a recently established (and bad-ass looking!) route "The Middle Way", and used two single bolt anchors to make the ground.

Coiling the rope at sunset

An easy romp down gravel ridges brought us to the road, and the bike that we had stashed the previous evening. A fully-loaded game of rock-paper-scissors determined that I should face the 7 mile ride back to our car. It was definitely worth it, though, because we'd sent the Castle Valley!

A compilation of our five summit photos

My Red Canyon Home

It's great to be back in Gringolandia! With near precision, I made the the migration from south to north just nine days after the spring equinox, ensuring myself maximum daylight in both hemispheres.

Of course returning to Colorado means returning to my true home, Eldorado Canyon! Everyone here is stoked to be out enjoying the spring sun, and I am not lacking climbing-partners!

Colin making it happen on an evening free-solo of "The Bulge" 5.7

Clayton soaking in the Colorado sun, literally hours after landing at DIA and returning from his months in South America. Ruper, 5.8.

Blake leading the 2nd pitch of "Le Toit" (5.11a), with me belaying. Photo by Forest Woodward.

Forest following the "Rosy-Toit" pitch (5.10). In addition to being an amazing photographer, Forest is quickly becoming a bad-ass trad climber. Get after it buddy!

Ryan Thompson, a very talented adventure sport photographer, joined us for an afternoon in the canyon and got some cool shots of Apple Strudel, a thin bolted face climb.

All of Ryan's photos got cut-off by the inept blogger, so just click on them, they're worth it!


Blake sussing the intricate movement of Apple Strudel, 5.12a
Sending on the Strudel, and making some really weird faces...

Joel on the "Rosy-Toit" pitch (5.10)

The biggest day so far has been a rambling ascent of Redgarden wall via some rad pitches. My friend Joel and I climbed "Scary Canary" to "Le Rosy Toit" to "Love Minus Zero" (on in eldo would a six pitch climb have three different names...). The Canary, though not really Scary, was plenty hard. That's one I need to get back on to send! Love Minus Zero, on the other hand, gave us our fill of indistinct, lichen-ous, runout, and "exciting" climbing!

Post send beers on the bridge.

As much as I love my red canyon home, the desert is calling me! Many socked-in, weather-enforced rest days in South America were spent dreaming of perfect Utah sandstone, and I'm heading out now (literally as soon as I post this) to the wide open spaces of Castle Valley!

I'm not really this dumb...

OK, read the below post about Cerro Pollone first, it's actually interesting.
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and then, if you still have time, a short plea for help: Is there any other blogging platform that's easier to use and less buggy/schizophrenic than blogger? I'm not really computer illiterate, but after spending nearly two hours uploading photos for that last post, I spent more than another hour trying to arrange the photos and text in some sort of consistent and logical manner. To no avail. The editing window would constantly make inexplicable changes, jumping my photos around, formatting them way off to the left or right, and clipping off all the text. It took all the patience I could find to just get all the pics and text into the post. The ugly result is below.

So anyways, I hate to complain about something that's free, but it seems so counter intuitive and buggy, I'd love it if I could use a simpler, or just more functional platform. The only catch, though, is that I'd like to keep the same web address. Probably impossible...

More Pollone Pics

Here are some more photos from our climb of Cerro Pollone a few weeks back:

Blake on the long approach, looking like he's ready for some 1980's vision of the future

Me leading somewhere on the 2000' West Pillar of Pollone. The climbing was truly perfect on the entire face, consisting of splitter white granite, many hand cracks, tons of corners and roofs, and a few dicey face traverses and flared cracks.
The most memorable pitch, though, might be one we didn't climb:
high on the face, visible from the approach, loomed a steep splitter off-width crack (too wide for hands, too small to full-body chimney). Our lone #4 camalot would provide no protection in this impressive fissure, and the climbing looking burly and sustained. I had already agreed that'd I'd lead it if it was the only way, so I spent a stressed night bivied just 100' below it. The next morning, though, I was able to lead left, around the arete, to a very climbable system of hand cracks that took us all the way to the summit!

Our bivy about 14 pitches up the West Pillar. The construction was completed on schedule and under budget by Blake and Scott, Alpine Contractors.

There will be snacks, there will!
A heap of good food for our second day on the route. Huge thanks to Larabar of Denver, Colorado for hooking us up with some tasty bars!

A series of photos from the long summit ridge. The entire climb was amazing, but the ridge traverse might have been the highlight. The views were of course incredible, and the climbing was, for the most part, pretty easy. From the summit of the West Pillar, we stayed roped up and led maybe 4-5 pitches across the knife edge ridge, encountering short bits of up and downclimbing on little towers, maybe up to 5.10. One more sustained vertical pitch (5.10) gained the summit proper, for which we had spectacular weather and high spirits.

Summit Alfajor!

The traverse from the Main summit to the East was a bit more difficult, physically and mentally. The lenticular cloud forming over Fitz Roy clearly indicated increasing winds, and it seemed like our multi-day window might be about to slam shut. Starting with a rap off the Main summit, we crossed the increasing crenelated ridge with a series of vertical pitches and raps. On one tower, an immense red and grey obstacle, the absolutely perfect granite that we'd been enjoying for the past two days degraded to some sort of grainy choss. I was on lead, and I tried a few different paths, but was turned back twice by poor protection and friable holds. Though the pressure of the impending weather was weighing on me, I also knew that a big lead fall and potential injury would be light-years worse than the slight delay of backing off and trying other paths. Finally, on my third attempt, I found a weakness that took decent pro, and quickly gained the choss tower's summit.

The orange choss tower

From there, the climbing was a bit easier, and we gained the east summit in a few more pitches. Just in time, the weather was coming in! There we found some rappel tat left by our friend Neil a month earlier (on the first ascent of the East Summit!), and gladly began the long descent. Many raps, many stuck ropes, much downclimbing, and one unpleasantly cold waterfall later, we were on the Fitz Norte glacier, with nothing left but the long slog back to basecamp and then town!

The crew at Piedras Negras base camp after our climb. From left, the team of Jose and Greg (Chilean and French), the brothers Joel and Neil Kauffman, then me and Blake.

Jose, Greg, Neil and Joel had all been on the Noth Pillar of Fitz Roy the previous day, and had been stymied attempting to summit by poor conditions. They all resolved to rap the route together, and suffered a series of rope incidents that left them with just one good rope by the end of the descent (each team started with two ropes).

Joel and Neil, no strangers to big mountian suffering, rated their all-night, wet, freezing, cluster-fucked rappel session as a 6.5 on a 1-10 scale of epicness (10 being your own death).

The Brothers K

Back in town, our friend and landlord Daniel threw us a victory Asado (roast). Que Rico!

Paine!

-and fast internet-

The allure of Patagonia summer has enticed another gringo to change his travel plans, pare down his pack, and "go gaucho". The Northern Hemisphere will always be there.

I'm now stationed in the old Spanish port of Puerto Natales, Chile. Located on a 100+ winding saltwater inlet, Natales is hanging out at the end of the world. Or, as some maps here show, perched aloof at it's apex.

I'm hanging out here with fellow gringo Clayton, a friend from Boulder who's been living and working here for the season. He has a wonderful network of Chilean friends here in town, and they've been more than enthusiastic to help me out as well. After all: "Los amigos de mis amigos son mis amigos"

So I've been hooked up with a free place to stay and a ready made set of adventurous friends with whom to share this amazing place. And thankfully we aren't that far from civilization, the internet is fast!

So, without further blather, photos from possibly my new favorite place on earth: the Paine!

The Torres (towers) of Torres del Paine National Park. The east faces catch brilliant morning light, so here's a pre-dawn shot of towers and stars.

The sunrise was obscured by clouds, so I was almost tempted to hike down. But lo, the clouds do part!

For over an hour, the clouds, propelled by the mythical patagonian viento (wind), opened and closed little serpentine windows of light across the faces of the spires. I literally took over 200 shots, as the light kept seeming to get better. These are two of my favorites.


Of course the climbing potential here is enormous, but I was glad to just be hiking. Packs are way lighter without all that climbing crap! (more room for whiskey!)

One of the unique aspects of the Paine is the forbidding, glaciar choked, vertical granite valleys are interspersed among lower elevation forests, meadows, beaches, and blue greeen lakes.

The Valle Francais, in the heart of the park, is maybe the most isolated and stunning spots I was able to visit. Ringed by ridiculous amounts of pristine white granite (with very, very little climbing activity so far...) this place inspires me to build a base camp and live here for two months. If only they had more than a few days of good weather per year.

The best part of travelling, or course, is the amazing people that you meet. Jay and Susie, both native Michiganders on a epic round the world ramble, were in Natales and so we all met up for this five day backpacking trip. Suerte Amigos!

On our last day, we wandered up the shore of the sculpted and enticing Lago Grey. Enticing, that is, until you round a corner and see the massive Glacier Grey, cascading directly into the lake. So no swimming here.


So yes, as soon as you close this page, go start searching for cheap airline fare. Start daydreaming, packing your bags, flipping through your old spanish textbooks. Start planning. Next winter in the North isn't that far away, exactly as far as next summer here.

-Scott