by John Bachman
I wake to the chime of my cellphone at 3:50am. Four hours sleep....
Matt and I were bivied at the base of Cathedral. We had both started out on pads on the ground but when it started raining I took refuge in the car so my down bag wouldn't get wet. Matt's bag was also down but had a better shell, so he decided to stick it out. I peer out the door and call his name. He's awake too.
We start the always chaotic process of getting everything ready. Determined not to repeat the mistakes of our failed attempt on Mordor Wall two weeks prior, we had prepared everything we could in advance so we could get up and head straight for the cliff: ropes already coiled; rack and harnesses rigged and ready. All we had to do was boil some water to make breakfast and keep us warm on the climb, and stuff a few odds and ends in the haulbag.
Even with two stoves, this seemingly modest undertaking takes us over 90 minutes, as the cold temperatures hamper our cartridge stoves. In another nod to our Mordor experience, we have filled the haulbag with gloves and mittens of various kinds, including a brand new pair of SealSkinz gloves in case we encounter any more icy wetness. We also put on gaiters to keep water out of our boots.
We arrive at the climb after some interesting scrambling in the darkness, flake out the ropes, and Matt starts up the 5.7 first pitch by headlamp just after 6am. A good start to the day: any earlier and we wouldn't have been saving ourselves any daylight.
Winter free-climbing is new to us both, and Matt is the guinea pig as he tries to figure out how to make his way up the cold, wet rock wearing boots and gloves. He's nervous and not in a great mood, but he creatively mixes free and aid up the blocky section and starts to traverse right, out of sight of the belay.
Suddenly he calls down: "I can see the belay, it's about...60 feet away."
"What?! Really?!" I call back. I look down at the small pile of rope at my feet. "Uhhh...I don't think you have 60 feet of rope left, man."
"Are you sure? How much is left?"
I measure out 10 or 11 armfuls of slack. "I don't know, maybe 50? It could be 60, but just barely."
"Yeah OK, I remember this pitch being a little tight."
"OK," I call back nervously, wondering how this is going to go.
Seconds later: "Off belay!"
"Oh you asshole!" I yell, laughing.
Matt's cracking up. "Best joke evaaar...."
As always I'm restless to be off the ground and I start cleaning the pitch. I arrive at the belay, we rerack and I start my lead of pitches 2 and 3 around 9am. This will be my first aid lead on gear; but it's a gorgeous sunny day and for some reason I'm not nervous at all.
The first part goes very quickly with bolts and a few solid placements in a crack, and before long I am at the two-bolt belay at the top of pitch 2. This is where Matt told me I would have to do a tension traverse...hmm...There's a horizontal crack in front of me at waist height, running to the right around the bulge of the Prow itself; I strain to the right to look around the bulge and see a skinny, wet, slopey ledge leading to a crack an unfortunate distance away. NOW I'm nervous.
After some hemming and hawing and some beta and a pep talk from Matt ("make Mark Twight proud") I place a green alien in the horizontal crack, clip a draw to it, and holding on to it, peer around the corner. With some tension from the rope I get my boots on the wet slopey ledge and spot a nasty, rotten looking loop of old cotton string sticking out of a mess of dirt in the flake to my right. God knows what it's attached to, but I pull on it, and it seems somewhat solid. A little nervous now, I work further right and have to let go of the alien; suddenly afraid of barndooring out and taking a swinging fall around the bulge, I contemplate clipping my aiders to the cotton tat and hanging off it; but as I watch it stretch and strain as I pull on it I realize that's a terrible idea. I decide to suck it up and go for the placement that's just out of reach; with some careful balancing and hand-matching on the dirty clothesline I free a fat nut, and reaching out, manage to slot it into a perfect constriction. Bomber. With relief I clip my aiders to the nut, hang on it, and get ready to move on. The rest of the flake goes with big cams and manky fixed pins, and at the top I stop to take some photos. A magnificent rainbow has emerged over the Conway valley.
"This is the fucking life, no?" I yell down to Matt, ecstatic.
The rest of the pitch is easy except for the monstrous rope drag, and soon Matt is jumaring up after me. I need to pee, but Matt filled the pee bottle at the last belay. I call down to him about emptying it out. "Pour it out against the rock, well away from the climb, and make sure it doesn't get on our ropes," he says. I look down, and it looks like I have a clean shot. Our ropes are up; it'll run away from the climb; and Matt looks safely off to the side. I can't quite reach the rock to hold the bottle up against it though, so I pour from a few inches away. The wind catches the piss and turns it into a fine mist. Matt, hanging below, sputtering, yelling, "Oh man, gross, you just gave me a golden shower!"
"Sorry, at least it was your pee!" I wonder if the tourist families can hear us on the outlook above...
Matt arrives and takes off on the fourth pitch, the triangle roof. A couple of thin cracks arch up and left to the base of a big corner and out an unmistakeable roof maybe four or five feet wide. A few moves out, Matt has an idea. "Hey we should be visible on the NEClimbs webcam now, call Pete and Gavin to see if they can see us!" I reach Pete (great cell phone reception on Cathedral) and he promises to check it out and take a few screenshots.
Tourists are spotting us on the road below and stopping to peer up, take pictures, and wave. We wave back. At one point we hear a clattering noise and realize someone just threw a beer can off the top. Later I look up and see a piece of plastic floating down from above. Somehow, by mountain magic, it floats down into my waiting hand. It's a Jolly Rancher wrapper.
"Oh man, you caught it?" Matt asks. "That is some great mountain karma right there."
"HEY! STOP LITTERING!" I yell at the top of my lungs. I put the wrapper in the puffy as a souvenir.
Matt lingers for a bit at the base of the corner, singing and muttering to himself, occasionally yelling down something about the incredible quality of the climbing on this pitch, which he has never led before. When he's in the roof, I hear him yelling in a British accent "I'm Jerry fucking Moffat! Jerry fucking Moffat!" Hmm, I'll ask him about that one later.
Matt disappears over the lip and spends a fair amount of time at the anchor. It's getting dark now, but I don't mind finishing up in the dark this time. I'm having a blast. Who said aid climbing was synonymous with suffering?
Matt's been up there for a while. I call up to check in. "Uhh, I ran out of gear and the anchor is sketchy," he says. "It'll take me some time to rig something." "Take all the time you need!" I yell back.
Finally my line is fixed and I jug up past the manky fixed pitons and get to the base of the corner. Wow, he placed a #2 nut! I never thought I'd see one of those get used. Then blue alien and three manky pitons in a row, the last one tied off with some decent-looking webbing. Matt is just above me, and instructs me on how to follow the roof: clip in direct to the last piton; clean the yellow alien in the back of the roof; unclip from the piton and lower yourself out onto the rope by holding on to the sling. I can definitely feel the exposure as I swing out, hanging free on the rope hundreds of feet above the ground. I pull up over the lip and I'm at the belay.
The belay is a complex web of random pieces lashed together; Matt points out the various placements, but when I see that there's a bomber nut and a fixed piton I decide not to worry. I get racked up to finish and pee in the bottle, yelling at Matt not to take pictures--he does anyway.
Finally I'm off on the last pitch, looking forward to topping out. Despite the darkness, the climbing is incredibly satisfying, as each placement is straightforward and bombproof. At one point the crack crosses a wet streak and my hands start to get wet and cold, and for a few moments I'm having flashbacks of Mordor Wall, but it's short lived. I can hear Matt singing something to himself at the belay, but I can't focus on it. He and I are opposites: when he leads he gets chatty, whereas when I'm really focused I can hardly speak at all. We both hum and sing and mutter to ourselves though. At one point it registers that he's singing "I Will Always Love You" a la Whitney Houston, and I'm inspired to join in, so there we are near the top of Cathedral in total darkness, singing at the top of our lungs. I'm getting summit fever and feel like I'm racing up, as I'm top stepping nearly every piece as the wall gets slabbier and slabbier. Even so, the lead takes me about two hours and I top out around 7:15.
Matt arrives with astonishing speed and before long we are enjoying summit beers and taking in the lights of Conway below. I reflect: I've just finished my first successful aid climb, and probably my biggest climb to date. I try to take in the feeling of satisfaction and manage to savor it for a few moments. Summit experiences are so fleeting but so powerful. Later on Matt and I agree that at most that feeling lasts for an hour or so, and then you begin planning your next adventure. I'm already planning mine. I want to solo the Prow; I want to free climb the Prow; and I really, really want a re-match with Mordor Wall. Stay tuned.
(See more photos of this and other climbs on my flickr page. For more info, email me at bachmanjohn at gmail dot com.)
Racked and ready at 5:30am (J)
Matt committing atrocities against free climbing ethics as he starts the wet 5.7 first pitch in the dark (J)
Matt fights rope drag as he nears the top of the first pitch (J)
John arrives at the first belay (M)
John leading pitch two (M)
Looking back at Matt as I near the top of the third pitch. The tension traverse runs from the bolt anchor at the top of pitch two around the arete to the flake shown in the picture (J)
At the belay after finishing pitch three. Who said aid climbing is synonymous with suffering? (J)
Rainbows over Conway (M)
Matt jugging up to the belay at the top of pitch three (J)
Matt approaching the roof on the fourth pitch (J)
Matt looking back at the base of the corner on the fourth pitch (J)
A screenshot from the NEClimbs.com Cathedral Ledge webcam, taken by Pete and emailed to us later. Matt can be seen leading pitch four in the dead center of the picture. The Triangle Roof is directly above him, about two thirds of the way up the frame.
Another screenshot from the NEClimbs.com Cathedral Ledge webcam. Matt can be seen in the picture about 2/3 to the right and halfway up the frame. The little light blue spot in the lower right corner is the haulbag, with John in a navy blue jacket at the belay.
My gear in the triangle roof, BOMBER aliens (M)
Looking down from under the triangle roof (M)
The Prow from the triangle roof (M)
The cluster F#@K factor is high with one... Pitch 5 belay (M)
Those summit trees look so close (M)
John cleans up to me by headlamp (M)
Peeing in a bottle at a belay is FUN!!
Matt smiling after topping out (J)
Posing with our gear and the infamous "Do Not Throw Objects" Sign. Amazingly, people do anyway (J)
The summit photo (J)
Celebration beers (M)
by Matt Mendonza
drip drip drip....
it's raining, on my bivy near cathedral ledge, i roll over so my face is covered by my bag and attempt to go back to sleep. I know i have only a few precious hours and that alarm set for 3:50am will be going off far too soon.
"Matt its raining" John says
Thanks for that buddy I hadn't noticed :)
John gets up and retreats to the car attempting to keep his down bag dry, I decide to wait it out as my bag has a waterproof shell and its only a drizzle. I never seem to fall asleep between the curious animal walking around me in the woods, the crashes of ice falling off cathedral and the persistent drizzle of rain.
beeeeeeep beeeeeeeep beeeeeeep I spring awake motivated at the thought of getting into dry clothes and eating a warm breakfast.
Gallons of water are boiled to provide for breakfast and the day climbing. We rush around like madmen in the dark getting the haul bag packed with food, water, layers, a pee bottle, duct tape, and gloves, LOTS OF GLOVES 4 pairs fleece gloves 1 par expeditions mitts, 1 pair liners, 2 pair leather fingerless and 1 pair softshell gloves, i guess we were a little paranoid after the frostbite during our last aid adventure.
We make the hike up to the base in pitch blackness and I am racked and leading by 6:00am. Its dark and I am freeing the 5.7 pitch by headlamp, in gloves and hiking boots, and its soaking wet, suffice to say it was NOT pretty, there was pulling on gear, thrutching, grunting and some horrendous rope drag. I decided to play a little trick on John so as i made the belay I called down "I can see the belay! 60 feet off" John took a second then screamed "What!?? you might not have 60 feet of rope". I kept it going asking if he thought i could make it or not after agreeing he could just squeeze out 60 feet I yelled out "OFF BELAY" which was followed with some good natured cussing. I fixed the line and in short order John was there.
John took off and made the incredibly awkward mantle onto the ledge while covered in gear and was at the next belay before i could blink, he clipped the anchor and continued on linking pitch 2 and 3. The tension traverse was a first for him and the wet rock made for some interesting self motivating talk, as it turns out the rock was too wet to get proper friction and John was hanging off of an infamous piece or cotton clothes line just around the corner. This piece of rope has been on the prow every time i have been there. It runs into the crack and disappears into nothingness. No matter how hard you look there is nothing that the string is attached too. Johns antics on it only solidified its position as a legendary piece of aid gear.
I started to jug up toward John and he decided it was a good time to empty the pee bottle I had filled onto the slab. I hadn't emptied it earlier as the belay there is protected and I didn't want to leave a mess. I assumed that John would understand the basic hydrodynamics of poured liquids in turbulent transverse air currents, but i was wrong. In simpler terms I was soon covered in a fine misting of my own urine which was the high point of my day.
After arriving at the belay I took off into my long pitch linking 4 and 5. This is some of the coolest aid i have done. Cool placements and moves, swinging from the right crack to the left, then up the corner on some "oh god i'm going to die" small brassies and some bomber aliens in the roof to finish up at the belay over the roof. When i get freaked while leading i talk a LOT. I quote things i remember and sing songs and do impersonations. Durning this lead i recited taylor mali poems, Odub climbing raps, the Gettsyburg address and at one point when i was most nervous used an old Seb Grieve line and screamed at the top of my lungs "I AM JERRY MOFFET I AM JERRY FUCKING MOFFET" it seemed to help :)
At this point a group of people at the bottom decided we were stuck. They continued to yell "ARE YOU STUUUUUUCCCCCKKKK" and "DO YOU NEED HEEEEEEELP" i waved them off and used the international sign for "no rescue" which is one arm up one arm down if you didn't know. They gave up after a while and I wondered if mountain rescue would be lowering off the top soon. John had the "Joy" of cleaning the roof which involves unpleasant horizontal cleaning and a swing out from under the roof. He joined me at the belay in the growing dark and racked up for the last pitch.
John was off and as the sun set i was left in a dark semi hanging belay to go insane with boredom. I sang every song i could think of, i danced around, and then there were two musical extravaganzas that need to be mentioned. Firstly was my remembering of the three stooges song that goes "B A bay B E be B I bickey bi B O bo bickey bi bo B U bu bickey bi bo bu" then you do the same thing with C the D etc until you hit Z, i did the alphabet three times. Then for the grand finale of the night i belted out Whitney Houston's "I Will Always Love You" at full volume. John joined in the singing and i'm sure our harmonizing was enjoyed by all of conway. (For anyone confused that is the song which proceeds "and iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii will always looooooooooove yooooooouuuuuuuu OOOOOoOOOOOooooooOOOO, I will alwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaays loooooOOOOOOoooooooooooooove yooooooou)
John topped out in quickly and i soon joined him on the summit. We had a quick summit beer to celebrate, reracked and then got lost in the woods looking for the road, which is amazing as its approximately three feet away. We eventually found the road and hit the car, tired but elated. Everything went well if slightly slower than we hoped, and we were at Horsefeathers enjoying a delicious meal before i knew it.
The prow 5.7 A1+
Pitch one 5.7 free 100 feet
Pitches 2&3 A1 string together 120 feet
Pitches 4&5 A1+ string together 120 feet
Pitch 6 easy A1 100 feet
Rack
2 sets nuts
1 set micro nuts
2 sets small aliens (aliens are so good its insane, they belong on EVERY
aid rack)
2 sets camalots .5-3
2 smallest tricams
lots of draws lockers and free biners
Give me a shout if you have any questions.