It all began at the infamous 4th rappel in East Lep, I was hanging out with sand in my eyes, soaking in the wind and trying to live large. This is 2010 of course. I hadn’t been in the canyons for a while; I started thinking,”This canyoneering stuff is fun. This canyon is really fun. I should do this more often. I’ve been going on too many climbing trips lately. I should do more canyon trips.”
So there I was, driving home from an epic East Lep; thinking, “Hmm, I’m really sick of driving, but I really should go on another canyon trip. Those are really fun. I don’t want to drive anymore though. If I’m going to go, I’d really better make it worth it.” I sent out a couple smoke signals.
So there I am on the following Saturday, trying not to puke; thinking, “Holy crap, it was a lot of work getting up that crack, I probably shouldn’t have held my breath the whole time.”
Ahhh, Sandthrax. That’s how to live large!
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We’re stoked…I think. There are five of us headed for the Sick Nasty. Landon Michaels, Eric Godfrey, Brendan Busch, Carlos T. Ball and myself. The last time Eric, Landon, Carlos and I did a canyon together, we got flashed in Heaps. I blamed Carlos and hope for better luck. The sky was clear blue, the thoughts were happy and the stoke was high. This was going to be a good day.
We got to the head of the drainage and took in a view of the Henry’s, capped in snow. So good. We gear up and head in. A short rap comes up quick, and we’re in it. A little walking and easy scrambling; then it starts.
Huff n’ puff, huff n’ puff. Gallluuumppp, gaaalllluuumppp. Back n’ feet, back n’ feet. Squirm, squirm squirm. Ahh, living the dream. This is kinda fun.
We reach the first upclimb. Oh, it looks long…and it is. Huff n puff, squirm, squirm, squirm all the way to the top. We’re on some chockstones (I believe the epic chockstones). We’re way above the canyon floor and I take a moment to tell everyone how “tight” this is, figuratively of course. We take our first break. It’s been about an hour and a half of goodness. I’m tired. This is hard work. We are stoked.
Back to it. Live it up; soak it in. Huff n’ puff, huff n’ puff. Gallluuumppp, gaaalllluuumppp.
And then, there it is. The first big silo. This aint a little baby gaper; this sucker is big and deep. We set up a belay off a fixed pin. Stem, stem, stem. Eric is over. Brendan goes next. Stem, stem…and then a new move I’d never seen before. I believe the technical term is, “chicken wing shoulder blade shuffle.” The proper technique involves going to the back and feet position, until it is uncomfortably wide. Then, one slouches down so the shoulder blades and toes are the only points of contact. Now, simply shuffle across with the shoulder blades. This move is best saved for big, exposed, silos. The more air the better.
After the silo there is a fun elevator. Then we hit it, the crux of the canyon.
We’re perched on some ledges with a twenty something foot crack above us. What a place to be!
We break out the big cams and the ropes. I plug a cam in the crack and step up. After a couple feet I realize this crack is hard. I plug in the big fatty cam. Squiiiiiiiiirm, armbar, armbar, knee jam, running man foot scrape. I’m up another inch. I slide the big fatty cam up. After another few seconds of armbars, hip scumming and scuffling feet, the big nylon jug hanging from the cam calls out, “Grab me, grab, me!” And I do. This is much better. Pull, pull. Hip scum knee bar, squirm. Yes! I’m up three more inches. I slide the cam up, and repeat. Ten or so feet later, the crack begins to widen. Oh no. my big nylon jug is about to go away. I wedge a knee, squirm, and get into a “reverse iron cross, elbow jam cross up pretzl twist” position...with a cam jamming my butt. I squirm, scrape and wriggle some more and eventually slot a hip in. The business is over. A few more feet and I’m up. I forgot to breathe. I think I’m going to puke. I hurt all over. This is so much “fun.” I’m stoked and living large.
Eric comes up next. I back up from the up climb and wedge myself the best I can and call out, “Okay, you’re on belay, but don’t fall.” Eric huffs n’ puffs up, grinning the whole way. He remembers to breathe. Brendan is next. We use Eric as a directional for the belay. Brendan works his way up the crack, elegantly using a tangled mess of cams. We set up Landon’s belay using Brendan as a redirect to Eric’s redirect from my belay. This set up is called the “jingus-cluster”. We bring Carlos up last. That bum was hauled up on the rope.
We’re through the crux and way stoked out. We resist the urge to give out a bunch of high fives. Instead, huff n’ puff, huff n’ puff. Gallluuumppp, gaaalllluuumppp. Back n’ feet back n’ feet. Squirm, squirm squirm.. Carlos was really hanging onto Landon. It was all good though.
We came to the next silo, err, silos. There was a crack just before the void that was calling for a big fat cam. We plug it and set a quick belay across the first silo.
Then head across the second, easier, silo with a comforting 50 foot void below our feet.
It’s a an elevator ride to the canyon floor. What a strange sensation. Walking with a bag on my back. We haven’t walked in about three hours. Landon drags Carlos through the subway section.
A little more stemming, few more gapers and one last elevator to the wash. That’s it, it’s done.
A few high fives and a couple chest bumps then it’s back to camp. Time for an early afternoon victory beer (or two). We’re stoked and living large.
-Matt Brejcha
All pictures by Landon Michaels and Carlos T. Ball
I caught wind of the planned escapade into Sandthrax just a couple days before and decided I had to go along. I reasoned that since Matt, Eric, and Landon are all accomplished climbers, young and strong, they’d at least be able to finish the canyon and tell rescuers where to find me.
ReplyDeleteUnlike Matt, Eric, and Landon, I have zero traditional climbing experience and no business going into places where they are required. But with ignorance also comes the bliss of not knowing that certain moves (ie offwidth crack climbing) are really hard and best left to younger, stronger, and better trained folks.
So we jumped in as Matt describes with lots of huff’n’puff, sweat, and suffering. Only missing from the above account was the constant sound of Brejcha gleefully howling “livin’ the dream! livin’ the dream!” as he gallumped along. The bottom dropped out and though we could see a looong way down, we couldn’t see the bottom. Eventually we came to the first big silo.
Though Eric set a perfect example, crossing the silo in fine form, I chose to take the unique and ill-advised back/toes chicken wing shuffle across the silo (note to self: don’t ever try it that way again). After narrowly avoiding testing the integrity of the belay anchor, we made it to the crux.
I had planned on getting dragged up the crux by the aforementioned youngsters and brought along my (not especially light-weight) 30' webbing ladder just for that purpose. I figured if one of them could anchor it, I would have nice hand/footholds every foot to help get up and would even try not pull too hard so as to reduce pain and suffering on the folks anchoring from above.
So after Matt & Eric weaseled up, I asked them to pull up the ladder and anchor it for me, but was only met with blank stares. After a short time it became apparent that I'd have to hump up the crux with the cams just like everyone else. Though "on belay" I was told to "not fall".
After utter failure to achieve vertical movement on my first attempt, I got a little higher the second time before completely tangling the three large cams in a complex cam-cluster. I had to remove them all and hang with some kind of knee jam torture hold while untangling the cams, all the while struggling to avoid spending $150 a pop dropping them into the depths below the crux.
Once I got rid of the two #5 cams (safely to Carlos below), by hogging on the single #6 (with a few bonus tugs on the belay rope) together with a generous amount of heaving and straining I was able to suffer up the rest of the climb. Then I took my place in the "jingus cluster" to help belay Landon. (continued...)
Freed of the concern over the crux, I foraged ahead to a long sweeping up-climb, beautiful and sinister. It was slippery, steep, and ungraciously lacking in footholds. With nobody in sight behind I knew that slipping out of there might never be noticed and my original plan of rescue could be foiled. Ultimately, I prevailed and came to the second big silo.
ReplyDeleteAfter setting up a belay by a cam “firmly placed” in the slot at foot level (in the optimal position for a full pendulum smash into the jagged silo below), I got ready to cross. I was told the belay anchor was “bomber”, or maybe they said I would “drop like a bomb” if I actually fell on it—either way it seemed best to make it over the first time. The straddling uber-groin-stretch micro foot jerk got me over this obstacle and I skipped over the following vicious gaper without stopping. Finally I could not only see, but actually elevator down to a sandy canyon floor.
Just like getting off a boat after weeks at sea, I stumbled around in a daze for a while eventually wandering far away enough that I could only barely hear the anxious yells of everyone whom I had left behind. Snapped out of my stupor I came scurrying back to determine if the final groin-ripping silo could be avoided by simply rapping down into it (which it could have if we had been able to conjure an anchor in the vertical spaces above).
Though teased by the feel of sand underfoot, there was still some struggling left, which I recall dispatching without too much drama (by now numbed and resigned to traversing over black, deadly space). We finally touched down at the very entrance to the canyon only scant minutes from cold beer in the car, which I hastily obtained.
I will never do that canyon again.
--brendan
(until the next time I go to the North Wash)