September 5 2024
Monkey off my back
------------------
Unfinished business from 1980 now finished.
Success on the Upper Exum route to the summit
of the Grand Teton with my phenomenal Exum
guide Gavin. Gavin is 29. I'm 70.
------------------------------------------------
This is the second time I've climbed anything
that could be called a pitch as part of a
mountain ascent. The first time was last year's
climb of the Grand via the Owen-Spalding route.
The link to my story of last year's climb is at
the bottom of this page. And, as mentioned on
the other page, I've now got the climbing bug.
------------------------------------------------
The Upper Exum was a very long and sometimes
challenging climb -- about three hours of roped
climbing, entailing about a dozen long pitches
(steep portion of red line on photo below),
all fairly intense. I've estimated that roughly
1300 finger/toe holds are used on the climb,
with about 200 of them (for me at least)
necessitating some thought.
There were even some fingernail (yes that's
fingernail -- not finger) holds on a pitch that
seemed nearly vertical. Creative problem-solving
was the most satisfying aspect of the climb.
The feared mental fatigue never happened. I was
relaxed all the way to the summit. There was an
inkling of physical fatigue on a few of the early
(the steepest) pitches, due to lots of arm work,
but at the top of each pitch I was a new man --
ready for the next pitch. I felt very fresh on
the upper pitches and of course on the entire
summit ridge.
Morgan (Exum guide) had told me the day before
-- after our rock-climbing -- that I was
"going to crush it". I said, "I won't crush
it, but I'll be fine". My summit guide Gavin
and I climbed past what few climbing parties
there were on the Upper Exum who had started
hours ahead of us, and we arrived at the summit
long before any of the other climbers.
I guess Morgan was right.
We went trailhead to trailhead in 15 hours in
a Sunday-stroll manner, with the usual unhurried
layovers at Spalding Falls, the saddle and on
the summit.
There was no thought of bringing my cell phone
on the climb with which to take pictures.
I knew that the climbing would be 100-percent
business and that I can find a lot of pictures
of our Upper Exum route taken by Exum guides
over the years on the Internet.
Looking down at the summit of the Grand:
Here are ten pictures of our Upper Exum route:
The trail-head is at 6700'.
The climb begins at the 11,700' saddle (bottom of yellow line)
to which we had hiked up early in the morning (3:15 to 6:45).
The other Upper Exum ridge climbers had spent the night
in the hut at the saddle after hiking up the previous
day -- thus their head start of a couple hours.
It's class 3 and class 4 climbing up the bottom portion
of the yellow line, followed by more class 3 and class 4
climbing along the bold orange line over to the red line.
The red line is our Upper Exum ridge route, which is
class 5 climbing (rope and hardware) all the way to the
summit ridge.
The following picture is the top of Wall Street
(upper tip of bold orange line in the photo above).
The climber is about to lower himself down to
the Step Across, where he will round the corner
to the base of the Upper Exum ridge.
Below, a climber has just rounded the corner by virtue
of completing the lower version of the Step Across and
is beginning the climb of the Upper Exum ridge.
I tell about my own Step Across (also the lower version)
at the bottom of this page.
Below is another climber who has
just completed the Step Across.
Below is the Golden Staircase.
Below is the Friction Pitch. This is where I used
no fewer than two fingernail-holds in conjunction
with virtually imperceptable toe-holds. (More on
that at the bottom of this page.)
A pitch above the Wind Tunnel:
Below, a climber arrives at the top of a pitch.
Below, another climber arrives at the top of a pitch.
Below are two Internet pictures of climbers at the summit.
09/07:
I just received this summit photo of me from Gavin:
Three short stories:
The Step Across
---------------
I botched my very first pitch (the Step Across) on the
technical climb. Or did I?
The exposure on that pitch is enormous -- you're clinging
to the rockface above thousands of feet of air immediately
below you.
The Step Across is just a move or two, depending on how
you count. I made the crux move, then was immediately
perplexed as to how to complete the thing.
My guide Gavin, who had completed the pitch and was out of
sight above me, felt the extra slack in the rope and called
out, "Congratulations, you've just made the Step Across."
I answered, "Not yet I haven't."
After another twenty seconds of utter perplexity, I made
a wacky pull-up move to get past the difficulty. I then
immediately called out to Gavin, "You'll never believe
what I just did. I just made the ugliest Step Across in
the history of the Grand. I've got my knee on top of the
chalkstone."
He answered, "Yes, I saw that." When we made full visual
contact again, he attempted to explain where I'd made
my mistake. I still didn't understand it though.
09/08 note: After reading about the Step Across (our low
version) on the Net, I see what Gavin had in mind:
The standard move, after taking a giant step to the
small protruding rock (it's actually a leap with your
leading right foot -- but that's okay because you're
still hanging on with your hands), is to "paste" your
feet to the smooth vertical rock face and then use both
your feet and hands to raise yourself up to a good
foot-hold. ("Paste" means only friction is involved --
not a trace of an actual foothold.)
I have no taste for pasting my feet to smooth vertical
rock faces. However, I am strong, so I was able to do
a full pull-up with hands only, raising my chin all the
way up to where my hands were. That got me barely high
enough to get my knee onto the chalkstone (a six-inch
wide stone that was naturally wedged into a six-inch
wide crack).
Not everyone can do such a full pull-up with the fifteen
or so extra pounds carried in the form of pack, helmet
and warm clothes being worn. So I guess I cheated.
The Friction Pitch
------------------
This is the other pitch I botched. Or did I?
I could see -- while at the base of the pitch -- that the
initial section was far too steep to be part of the
actual friction-climbing portion of the pitch. I could
also tell that it then gradually rounds off a bit to a
lesser inclination (where one can barely friction-climb it).
That first part necessitated tiny holds, such as fingernail
holds and barely perceptable toe holds. I worked hard to
make upward progress, and then just kept working hard in
the same manner, unaware that the inclination had lessened.
In fact, I forgot all about it being a friction pitch, and
thus never gave a thought to seeing whether or not I could
glue myself to it with the soles of my feet and the palms
of my hands with my butt raised up.
I'd say I turned that 5.6 pitch into a 5.7 or 5.8 pitch,
possibly also due to straying a little to the left or to
the right of the easiest line of ascent.
At the summit, hours later, still oblivious to what I'd
done wrong, I told Gavin that it was nuts to label the
Friction Pitch a friction pitch. I said, "What friction!?
It's all tiny holds!"
Gavin didn't answer. I guess he doesn't like to tell a
person that they're an idiot. He's weird that way.
It was a day or two later that I realized how I'd been
drawn into the wrong methodology. But I should probably
be glad I did it the way I did: There's a very good
chance that if I'd tried to friction-climb the thing
I'd have had a fall -- especially if I was not on the
easiest line of ascent -- and thus couldn't claim a
perfectly clean climb of the upper Exum ridge.
The Boulder Problem
-------------------
That's the name of the pitch, and it's the final
obstacle in the way of gaining the summit ridge.
It's not actually a boulder; rather a very large rock
formation. And it looked absolutely unclimbable.
After three hours of technical climbing, I was looking
at this unclimbable-looking thing between me and the
summit, but was not concerned. My confidence had well-
evolved.
For the third time that day, Gavin encouraged me to use
the same type of high hold (arm fully extended) that he
was going to use. And this time it would involve two
succesive fully-extended arm moves.
Gavin is all of six feet tall. I'm 5'7".
For the third time that day I said, "Not a chance."
I watched Gavin work his full-arm extension magic moves
and then complete the short pitch.
I then launched myself onto the face. I had by then
learned to look below the height of my shoulders for
nifty palm holds which I could use to push myself up
rather pull myself up. Sure enough, I immediately
spotted one such rounded hold for my left hand. I could
also see that the upward push would give me easy access
to a good hold higher up for my right hand.
Presto. I turned that famous "Boulder Problem" into
a 5.1 pitch.
At the top, I let Gavin know (facetiously) that every time
I had done one of my variations that day I was "sure no one
else had ever done it" and that "now they will have to
rewrite the guide book to include Roger's routes."
Summary
-------
My full-height pull-up on the Step Across,
my two fingernail pull-ups on the Friction Pitch
and my precarious balancing move on one of the
upper pitches were the only four moves out of
hundreds that pushed me nearly to my limit.
The overall ease of climbing and the complete
lack of mental or physical fatigue makes me
feel like this is the beginning of a new era
for me. An old guy like me wants to climb only
with the most reputable guides, so I'll be
considering more climbs with the great guides
at Exum.
Finally:
Gavin (photo at right) did not place a single
piece of protection for himself on the entire
climb -- not even on the Friction Pitch, which
is the crux pitch of the climb. It was
amazing to watch him climb, and also amazing
to watch him descend unprotected on the most
daunting stretches of the Owen-Spalding route
on our way down.
Looking down at the summit of the Grand:
The following picture is the top of Wall Street (upper tip of bold orange line in the photo above). The climber is about to lower himself down to the Step Across, where he will round the corner to the base of the Upper Exum ridge.
Below, a climber has just rounded the corner by virtue of completing the lower version of the Step Across and is beginning the climb of the Upper Exum ridge. I tell about my own Step Across (also the lower version) at the bottom of this page.
Below is another climber who has just completed the Step Across.
Below is the Golden Staircase.
Below is the Friction Pitch. This is where I used no fewer than two fingernail-holds in conjunction with virtually imperceptable toe-holds. (More on that at the bottom of this page.)
A pitch above the Wind Tunnel:
Below, a climber arrives at the top of a pitch.
Below, another climber arrives at the top of a pitch.
Below are two Internet pictures of climbers at the summit.
09/07: I just received this summit photo of me from Gavin:
Three short stories: The Step Across --------------- I botched my very first pitch (the Step Across) on the technical climb. Or did I? The exposure on that pitch is enormous -- you're clinging to the rockface above thousands of feet of air immediately below you. The Step Across is just a move or two, depending on how you count. I made the crux move, then was immediately perplexed as to how to complete the thing. My guide Gavin, who had completed the pitch and was out of sight above me, felt the extra slack in the rope and called out, "Congratulations, you've just made the Step Across." I answered, "Not yet I haven't." After another twenty seconds of utter perplexity, I made a wacky pull-up move to get past the difficulty. I then immediately called out to Gavin, "You'll never believe what I just did. I just made the ugliest Step Across in the history of the Grand. I've got my knee on top of the chalkstone." He answered, "Yes, I saw that." When we made full visual contact again, he attempted to explain where I'd made my mistake. I still didn't understand it though. 09/08 note: After reading about the Step Across (our low version) on the Net, I see what Gavin had in mind: The standard move, after taking a giant step to the small protruding rock (it's actually a leap with your leading right foot -- but that's okay because you're still hanging on with your hands), is to "paste" your feet to the smooth vertical rock face and then use both your feet and hands to raise yourself up to a good foot-hold. ("Paste" means only friction is involved -- not a trace of an actual foothold.) I have no taste for pasting my feet to smooth vertical rock faces. However, I am strong, so I was able to do a full pull-up with hands only, raising my chin all the way up to where my hands were. That got me barely high enough to get my knee onto the chalkstone (a six-inch wide stone that was naturally wedged into a six-inch wide crack). Not everyone can do such a full pull-up with the fifteen or so extra pounds carried in the form of pack, helmet and warm clothes being worn. So I guess I cheated. The Friction Pitch ------------------ This is the other pitch I botched. Or did I? I could see -- while at the base of the pitch -- that the initial section was far too steep to be part of the actual friction-climbing portion of the pitch. I could also tell that it then gradually rounds off a bit to a lesser inclination (where one can barely friction-climb it). That first part necessitated tiny holds, such as fingernail holds and barely perceptable toe holds. I worked hard to make upward progress, and then just kept working hard in the same manner, unaware that the inclination had lessened. In fact, I forgot all about it being a friction pitch, and thus never gave a thought to seeing whether or not I could glue myself to it with the soles of my feet and the palms of my hands with my butt raised up. I'd say I turned that 5.6 pitch into a 5.7 or 5.8 pitch, possibly also due to straying a little to the left or to the right of the easiest line of ascent. At the summit, hours later, still oblivious to what I'd done wrong, I told Gavin that it was nuts to label the Friction Pitch a friction pitch. I said, "What friction!? It's all tiny holds!" Gavin didn't answer. I guess he doesn't like to tell a person that they're an idiot. He's weird that way. It was a day or two later that I realized how I'd been drawn into the wrong methodology. But I should probably be glad I did it the way I did: There's a very good chance that if I'd tried to friction-climb the thing I'd have had a fall -- especially if I was not on the easiest line of ascent -- and thus couldn't claim a perfectly clean climb of the upper Exum ridge. The Boulder Problem ------------------- That's the name of the pitch, and it's the final obstacle in the way of gaining the summit ridge. It's not actually a boulder; rather a very large rock formation. And it looked absolutely unclimbable. After three hours of technical climbing, I was looking at this unclimbable-looking thing between me and the summit, but was not concerned. My confidence had well- evolved. For the third time that day, Gavin encouraged me to use the same type of high hold (arm fully extended) that he was going to use. And this time it would involve two succesive fully-extended arm moves. Gavin is all of six feet tall. I'm 5'7". For the third time that day I said, "Not a chance." I watched Gavin work his full-arm extension magic moves and then complete the short pitch. I then launched myself onto the face. I had by then learned to look below the height of my shoulders for nifty palm holds which I could use to push myself up rather pull myself up. Sure enough, I immediately spotted one such rounded hold for my left hand. I could also see that the upward push would give me easy access to a good hold higher up for my right hand. Presto. I turned that famous "Boulder Problem" into a 5.1 pitch. At the top, I let Gavin know (facetiously) that every time I had done one of my variations that day I was "sure no one else had ever done it" and that "now they will have to rewrite the guide book to include Roger's routes." Summary ------- My full-height pull-up on the Step Across, my two fingernail pull-ups on the Friction Pitch and my precarious balancing move on one of the upper pitches were the only four moves out of hundreds that pushed me nearly to my limit. The overall ease of climbing and the complete lack of mental or physical fatigue makes me feel like this is the beginning of a new era for me. An old guy like me wants to climb only with the most reputable guides, so I'll be considering more climbs with the great guides at Exum.
