Dead By 30

            At the beginning of the fall season here in Tucson, I found myself in a new predicament: I didn’t have any real desire to climb.  I struggled with this for a while, but after talking it over with a few close friends who I know have gone through the same experience, I accepted it as just a natural cycle.  I started a slackline club at the University of Arizona with my good friend James Xu and started slacking almost every day.  I learned a bunch of tricks and made a lot of new friends (the club, which started with 4 members, now has 116).

            As mid-October rolled around, I felt the climbing stoke start to return.  A couple weeks later, I took a spur-of the-moment trip to Hueco and managed to send Free Willy V10 at the end of the second day, much to my own surprise. Confident I was feeling in shape and ready to go, I returned to Tucson and started looking around for projects.  At first I had my sights on The Morgue, Mount Lemmon’s second 5.14- and unrepeated since the first ascent by my original mentor Eric Scully when he was in high school.  Though it fit my style (short and bouldery), it also got afternoon sun.  My class schedule prevented me from getting out in the mornings during the week and its sloper-dependent crux made it an unlikely prospect in the late-afternoon sun.

            I switched my focus to the Beaver Wall, which, in addition to its afternoon shade, is also frequently visited during the week and on the weekends, making partner acquisition much easier.  However, during fall 2012 and spring 2013, I had sent all but one of the sport routes 5.13 and up on the wall, and the only remaining route was a different start to a line I had already done.  I returned, re-climbed some of my old projects and sent Poplar Mechanics 5.12+, funnily enough my first Beaver Wall 5.12. That same day, my friend Liam Oden finished up the classic Rage to Live 5.13a/b.  With both of us in search of something new, some route had to pop up.

            The potential of a new line to the right of Last Supper, a trad 5.11 (the first established in Arizona) on the Beaver was not a new thought.  Eric Rhicard, prominent Tucson first-ascensionist and guidebook author, had put in a directional bolt up high and worked out some of the moves on toprope in the 1990’s.  According to Rhicard, he had trouble sticking a particular long move to a poor hold high on the route and as such abandoned the project.  The initial allure of the line was the existence of a potential 6 foot jug-to-jug dyno right off of the ground, and with this in mind Liam Oden and Alex Kirkpatrick rappelled over it, found holds the whole way and installed 4 more bolts.  After a couple sessions, they came to the realization it might be significantly harder than originally thought.  I accompanied them on a night session to the project and, after a burn, I felt as though I might be able to do it.

            The next session yielded some great progress and, with the help of some amazing new beta found by Liam, I managed to do all of the moves on the route.  The first section, site of the proposed dyno, instead held an insecure sequence with massive static lock-offs to marginal crimps checking in around V6.  The dyno, of course, was very possible, but would likely leave one too power drained for the real crux up high.  Long, easy moves on jugs led through the ripples to the base of the upper headwall.  From this last rest, you clip bolt 3 above your head and launch into the crux sequence.  This extremely bouldery section is somewhere around V9, starting with an enormous lockoff to a divoted slomper from a viciously thin crimp.  You then stand up into a half-pad sidepull/undercling, reach to an extremely poor sloping edge with a crucial thumbcatch and move your feet up to some footholds that are quite bad.  From this somewhat awkward position, you must generate enough to stick a 3-points-off drive-by/ cross-dyno to a full-pad sloping edge.  With the hardest moves behind you, a strange move to a blocky sidepull jug enables one to clip bolt 4 and enter the non-trivial slab leading to bolt 5 and the topout.

            The catch is, however, that the fall after the dyno has potential to be quite bad.  The route is pretty short at ~40 feet, with the crux move around the 32 foot mark.  You clip bolt 4 with your feet several feet above bolt 3, making necessary a very tight belay to avoid hitting the ground.  The wall is vertical, making such a long, hard fall a very risky one for your ankles.  Any fall after the drive-by maneuvering into the clipping stance (or worse, a blown clip) could leave you 5 feet off the deck with shattered ankles or, with a less-than-perfect belay, on the ground.

            I headed out with my friend Soren on Black Friday to spend the day on Lemmon.  We kicked around all day, visiting places like Overlooked Pinnacle, the iconic Goosehead and the Rose Canyon entrance boulders.  Around 1:30pm, we headed to the Beaver Wall.  We managed to get there half an hour or so before the project went into the shade.  After killing some time, I put in a couple burns and so did Liam (who was up there already with his friend Peter Piek).  With daylight fading, I tied in for one final attempt, pulled on my M5’s, and fist-bumped the plastic Jesus figurine provided by Soren (the route had been christened the Offensive Jesus project).  I pulled through the bottom quickly and rested well below the difficulties.  I started into the crux and, much to my shock, stuck the dyno.  Redlining, I quickly made the weird move to the blocky sidepull and, readjusting using a nearby crimp, clipped the bolt.  I took a few breaths to calm down, started into the slab section, and soon found myself standing triumphantly on a juggy ledge 10 feet above the last bolt on the slab.  With a stoked yell, I untied, dropped my rope though the draws and topped out in front of awed tourists there to witness the incredible Arizona sunset.  I traversed right off of the slab along 4^th class terrain and met the approach trail, where I returned to the base of the wall and the congratulations of my friends.

            Exhausted, we packed up and hiked out with the sun setting behind us.  I’ve never seen a more beautiful sunset in my life, still keyed-up and experiencing the world in a sort of hyper-reality after redlining and succeeding deep in the no-fall zone.  I named the route Dead By 30, a reference to the possibility of decking from 30 feet and to a morbid prediction made by James that him, Soren and I would be dead by age 30.  The grade gave me some pause, but after some input from the others that had been on the route I settled on 5.13d.  It’s certainly the most physical of the harder Beaver Wall routes, though it does lack much pump factor.  I’m excited to hear what others think about it and, more importantly, see some strong climbers having fun and trying hard on it.  Unlike some hard routes in Tucson like Alex Kirkpatrick’s magnificent Doubt 5.14a, this route exemplifies the Mount Lemmon style, which is cool in my humble opinion.  Much thanks to Mad Rock Climbing- the M5’s performed fantastically on the microedge feet and kept me safe and secure. Overall, I’m amazingly psyched about Dead By 30, which is without a doubt one of the most physically and mentally challenging FA’s of my life so far.  The route can be found on MountainProject here.

 

The lights of Tucson illuminate an approaching storm during a night session at the Beaver Wall.  Photo by Alex McIntyre.

Jacks Canyon - June 2013

            When David Adams asked if I wanted to join him and his friend Jake Croft on a trip to Jacks Canyon after school ended, I was a little skeptical.  It wouldn’t have been the first time I would have gotten ready for a trip and had it cancelled at the last second.  However, as the date approached I grew more and more psyched- I was very ready to break out of the slump I had been in since finishing up Hebe up at the Beaver Wall.  June 1^st rolled around and, despite some delays due to Jake’s SAT, we headed out for Jacks.

            After a few wrong turns along the way, we rolled in to the Jacks camping area on the rim of the canyon around 8:30PM.  We set up camp in the dark, and got to work grilling our delicious bratwursts by the light of our headlamps and Jake’s gas lantern.  They were not of the pre-cooked variety, but we took our chances by grilling them until they appeared very well done.  Calculated risk and all that, right?  None of us acquired salmonella or botulism, so we must have done something right.

            Once our meal was finished, I decided to give David and Jake (both Jacks Canyon virgins) their first glimpse of the canyon.  As it had already gotten dark, Jake elected to carry his gas lantern with us as he had forgotten his headlamp in Tucson.  We walked the 2 minutes to the rim and both were impressed by the inky darkness and apparent depth of the canyon before them.  Unbeknownst to us, the adventures of our trip were about to begin, before we even entered the climbing area itself.  Having only walked two minutes from our camp, we expected no challenges in returning safely and quickly.  This was apparently misguided.  We retraced our steps back toward the campsite, but it was nowhere to be found.  Jake’s lantern would have provided much needed illumination of our camp, but it was with us.  We wandered, completely lost, for 20 more minutes before stumbling into our site from the opposite direction that we had left in.  A bit confused, we went to bed.

            I woke up from a very uncomfortable night at 4:45AM the next morning and contemplated getting up and trying to get some golden hour sunrise shots, but I decided I was too lazy (and had forgotten my tripod in Tucson).  A few minutes later, Jake and David both woke up as well, and after a quick breakfast of bagels we were the first to head into the canyon.  Our first stop was Casino Cliffs, as it was close and still early enough that it wasn’t in the sun.  David led Mickey Goes to Vegas quickly for a warm up, but I decided to have a little more fun with it.  I had brought my trad rack with me and I racked up and set off.  I skipped the bolts and protected in the cracks that vaguely follow the line of the route, making sure to avoid any placements that would destroy crucial holds if I were to whip on them and break the limestone.  The gear through the first half was great, while a semi-sketchy #3 around left up high provided decent peace of mind getting to the anchor.  Jake, the tricam addict, attempted a tricam-only ascent but ended up clipping the last 2 bolts.  We’re calling Mickey on gear Mickey Goes to Eldo… just kidding.

Racking up under Mickey Goes to Vegas.

Placing the first piece on Mickey.

Mickey Goes to... Eldo! (just kidding).

            With that, Casino Cliff was headed into the sun and we moved ourselves over to Main Wall.  I hopped on Power Trip 11c and hung the draws, Jake fell between the last bolt and the anchors and David had a bit more trouble with the pocket climbing very foreign to him.  I took another lap to finish warming up, cleaned the draws, and we moved on.  I gave Jake and David a quick tour of the area.  I was glad to see the Evil Offspring area had a ton of draws already up, while David and Jake were psyched to get on the area classic Swiss Arete 5.12a.  Needing to answer the call of nature, I determined the best way for me to do so was to return to the pit toilet in the camping area as the fire had cleared out most of the mid-height vegetation in the canyon.  I bid my friends good luck on Swiss Arete and set out, running most of the trail back up out of the canyon.  Unfortunately, there was a bit of a line for the toilet, but everything worked out and I was soon on my way back down to Main Wall.  Seconds after leaving the toilet I took a “trail” which wasn’t and was promptly lost, again.  10 minutes of searching for the campsites, the trail, anything, really, were fruitless and I walked toward the canyon and followed the rim in the direction the trail down should have been in given where I thought I was.  10 minutes later, I had not hit it, and I jogged the other way along the rim and finally met up with the real trail.

Jake at the start of Power Trip.

Jake on Power Trip

Jake on Power Trip.

Jake on Power Trip.

So close...

...No!  Jake falling off the last move of Power Trip.

            When I finally returned to my friends, David was just lowering off of his attempt.  His performance was less than he had hoped for and was consequently a little depressed.  I tried to cheer him up while Jake had some success on the route and decided to leave the draws up for another go.  It was my turn and I decided to give Evil Offspring 12d a flash burn (I had seen a video of the climb 2 nights prior).  We hung the 2 draws necessary (most were already hung) and I set off.  Despite a little bad beta along the rail, I managed to pull through and flash!  We cleaned our two draws and returned to Swiss Arete, where Jake made another run and got pretty close.  Another party had hung draws on Heart Shaped Box 12b, just nearby, and I asked them if I could hop on.  They replied in the affirmative, and I hopped on.  After missing some big holds in the opening sequence and doing some horrifying choss wrangling as a result, I managed to pull through for the onsight!  Jake returned to Swiss Arete and, again, barely missed the redpoint, this time lightly brushing David’s nose with his foot while airborne off the crux.  David asked if I could lead something else so that he could not have to deal with hanging the draws, so I obliged and we decided to get on Total Lack of Jump 12a, having been assured of its quality by Luke back in Tucson.  I pulled on, almost missed the second pull on the drilled pockets, but managed to keep it together through both of the dynos (which I made statically… sometimes being tall isn’t as fun!).  I was surprised by the difficulty of the slopey, technical face climbing that actually constituted the crux of the route, but managed to finish it up for another onsight.  David decided to toprope, but almost immediately nearly tweaked a finger on the drilled pockets at the start.  Convinced he was done until we had lunch and he could recover his psyche, David lowered off.  With Jake resting for another burn on Swiss Arete, I ended up running another lap on Total Lack of Jump, this time on toprope.

Myself heading out the rail on Evil Offspring.

Evil Offspring

Heading for a flash on Evil Offspring.

            With that cleaned, we headed back to Swiss Arete.  Jake pulled off the ground and snagged the redpoint on this burn, making it look easy in the process!  With the sun encroaching on Main Wall, I asked if I could give an attempt on the classic Zone of Exclusion 12a towards the far right end of Main Wall before we headed over to the Swiss Wall area.  I’m a bit of a Chernobyl buff and the route name was too good to pass up.  The ground below the route had risen a great deal following the fire and subsequent spring flooding, and as a consequence the first bolt was now at chest-height.  Evaluating my abilities, I asked for a loose belay so as to not get short roped and that Jake run down the hill if I were to fall.  I skipped the first bolt entirely (it was truly pointless) and, while surprised by the consistent difficulty of the moves, stuck through it for another 12a onsight, this time with only 2 bolts and an anchor.  Jake quickly led Sandman 11b nearby (no send, unfortunately) and as the sun fully hit us we packed up and moved to Swiss Wall for its all-day shade.

Jake sending the classic Swiss Arete.

            Once at Swiss Wall, we had lunch, and it was here that we got our first taste of the flies.  Annoying clouds of the insects swarmed out faces and bodies when least appropriate.  Running low on both water and food, we were all moving slowly, but I got on the 12 Step Program open project, did all the moves and hung the draws for a possible redpoint burn the next day.  We lazed around, but David (now reenergized from lunch) made short work of Yarlsberg 5.10a, Feta 5.9 and Gouda 5.9 while we all admired the other party’s 36 foot maximum stick clip.  More hydrated, psyched and energized than either Jake or I, David decided to go check out Cracker Jack Cliff while we hung out in the shade.  I had hit a wall following the 8 pitches of 5.11 or harder and took a nice nap on top of the rope underneath 12 Step Program while Jake slept on a jumble of our packs.

Myself in the huge roof on the 12 Step Program project.

Pulling the lip on 12 Step Program.

David belaying on 12 Step Program.

            David returned an hour and a half later (the sun was hotter than he expected and found some shade to nap in as well) and we hung out for a while longer, waiting for as much of the canyon to be in the shade as possible.  Around 5PM we moved to Casino Cliff and hung out below Mickey, but did not climb.  Here is where the tarantula wasps began their assault.  While sitting around, I heard a deep buzzing- much deeper than a typical fly, bee or wasp that we had seen all day.  Jake and David pointed at a large insect headed straight for me from behind and I ducked while it passed overhead.  Dubbing it the megawasp, it would return to buzz me several times, including one pass in which it knocked the sunglasses off of my forehead.  Unnerving, but it hadn’t tried to sting any of us yet, at least.

            We headed back to camp around 7PM to maximize our shade on the way out, and cooked some hot dogs.  The shape shifting Jacks Canyon struck again, with Jake getting slightly lost trying to find camp after going for a short run on the dirt road.  That Jacks was actively attempting to get us lost was becoming a little eerie, and coupled with the fact that everyone but us had cleared out of the campsite other than us (it was a Sunday evening), we stuck close to camp.  We cooked hot dogs and bacon for dinner and soon after David decided to lie down for the night.  Jake and I decided to do some photography and ended up getting some great shots of us sitting around the gas lantern, along with some not so great ones.  I used Jake’s rope as a pillow instead of my jacket as per the night before, and the difference was massive.  I slept very well and awoke much later in the morning to some strange noises nearby.  I assumed more people had come in during the night and were responsible for the weird moaning noise, but upon further inspection this was proven to not be the case.  

Jake and I sitting around the gas lantern at the campsite while David lies in the tent after a hard day in Jacks Canyon.

We attempted to make eggs for breakfast, but after much time spent attempting to cook them on both my grill and Jake’s pocket rocket stove, we decided it was a waste of time and resorted to various junk foods and the remainder of my bagels.  David walked to the toilet (visible after walking 10 feet from our site), walked back in a straight line towards us and walked into camp from the opposite direction.  While repacking our climbing gear, Jake and I realized David and his things were missing, and a half an hour of fruitless searching left us quite worried.  On the chance he had headed in without us, we left several notes visible around the campsite and headed down to Main Wall.  We found him there, and got set to warm up on Genesis 10d, a classic to many but in my opinion very mediocre.  David belayed Jake, and we had a strange accident.  Jake asked for slack while clipping the anchors, then yelled take and sat back immediately instead of waiting for the rope to go tight.  He dropped 15 or so feet and jerked David into the wall, which smashed his shin and broke one of his toes.  After lowering, we analyzed what happened, and decided Jake must have sat back onto the rope while David was still feeding slack, resulting in the fall.  We sat around for a while, and I got on with Jake belaying and cleaned the draws.  With David convinced he could still climb given a little time to recover, we moved to Under Attack 12a.  I managed to onsight hanging the draws, but when David attempted to climb, he couldn’t fight through the pain and decided not to continue.  His trip was done.  Jake got on once and thought it was possible, so we left it up for more attempts later.  We started getting attacked by multiple megawasps, including one pass when I had to dive off of a small boulder in the streambed over a crouched Jake to avoid being stung.  We posted whoever was not belaying or climbing with the stick clip nearby to fight off the megawasps should they attack again.

My turn to climb. I thumbed through the guidebook and walked the base of Main Wall.  When I saw a route called The Thin Thin 13b, I knew I had to get on it.  I’m a bit of a crimp addict, especially living in Tucson where the name of the game is thin granite crimps.  I knew the route would be on thin pockets, not crimps, but the name and the beautiful pink rock were so alluring I could not resist.  When I reached the crux, I realized this was going to be the most powerful sequence I had ever done while roped up.  With some work, I felt okay about the sequence, but was secretly pretty nervous about it.  A short, juggy roof led to a perfectly round, shallow hueco.  Matching into it as an undercling with your right arm, you have to lock down this at your waist (all bicep) with poor feet under the roof and stab for a quarter pad, 2.5 finger pocket (I can get 3 in, but I have very thin fingers).  Switch feet, move your right hand to a sloping, half pad 2 finger, then bump the right hand six inches into another, slightly more positive half-pad 2 finger pocket.  Move the feet again and set up for an insanely powerful and desperate stab with the left hand into a deep 2 finger pocket.  This 4 move crux is followed by tricky and tenuous vertical climbing with bad feet on more natural pockets and pinches to the anchors.  Almost every hold is natural (a rarity in Jacks), with the only questionable hold being the deep 2 finger (though it might just be comfortized around the edges).  I skipped an obvious drilled pocket just after the crux as there was a natural pinch and shallow 3 finger pocket very close by.

Jake working Under Attack while David belays.

Myself working The Thin Thin.

After I tried The Thin Thin, Jake tried Under Attack again but didn’t send because the sun was in his eyes pulling the lip.  I gave one more burn on The Thin Thin, but missed on the final stab and fell.  We cleaned both routes and headed over to Swiss Wall, where I high pointed in the giant roof on 12 Step Program. Shortly thereafter, I took a large and rather humorous fall after breaking a hold pulling over the lip.  I tried yelling “rock!” but only got half of it out before “falling!” as I fell 15 feet or so completely horizontal (I had been heel hooking) with a shower of dust and small rocks surrounding my right hand.  I got back on after a laugh and went to the chains to clean the route- I was too tired for another attempt.  I ended up only being able to clean the top half on the lower and was forced to TR the bottom again and take a huge swing to clean the lower half.  Jake tried to climb Feta on tricams only (again making it halfway before starting to clip bolts) and I led Gouda in my 5.10 Guide Tennies, which was very exciting with the large bolt spacing up high.

Soon after, we packed up and checked out Cracker Jack Cliff and headed back to Casino to hang out in the shade.  Again, we didn’t climb, instead feasting on fine cheeses and meats (as we had done earlier at Swiss Wall as well).  Around 6:50PM, we decided to head back to Main Wall so Jake could give Under Attack another go.  We hung the draws we could with the stick clip, gave the rest to Jake, and he tied in.  He then proceeded to walk all over it, making it look like 5.8 and easily sending for another 4^th go 12a redpoint.  After cleaning the route, David said I should get back on The Thin Thin.  I agreed, and we headed over.  I blasted through the bottom and entered the crux, making it to the final stab quickly.  I thought there was no way that I could possibly stick this move in my current state, but decided to give it everything anyway.  I stuck it, and quickly made my way through dicey terrain to the anchor shuts and a third go send of The Thin Thin, 5.13b.

We packed up and headed out shortly after.  Moving slowly due to David’s broken toe, we took in the scenery on the way back.  Unfortunately, this included a glimpse of motion in large cave atop Casino Cliff (directly across from the trail back to the camping area on the rim).  Convinced that Jacks was trying to kill us (and that it might be successful this night, given our isolation and poor physical condition after 2 days of climbing), we decided to head out. We packed up camp and drove to Winslow for gasoline (Clint’s Well had been out of gas on the way up and we weren’t sure if we could make it to Payson).  We stopped in Payson anyway to switch drivers and grab some food, and we arrived back in Tucson around 2AM.  Even David, with his broken toe and bad day 1 of climbing, was psyched on the trip, and Jake and I were clearly satisfied.  They dropped me off at my house and I showered and went to bed with a great trip behind me.

Mickey... photos credit to David Adams.  Power Trip and Under Attack photos credit to Alex McIntyre.  All other photos credit to Jake Croft.

Finger Rock, Part Deux: Overnight SEND!

I had long thought about the best way to return to Finger Rock after our off-route debacle in February.  During the school year, everything seemed too busy; what with prom, AP tests, finals and graduation.  Summer break had arrived, but the Tucson summer heat was a serious force to be reckoned with.  It had occurred to me that the temperatures took a substantial dive after sundown, and with that an audacious plan became obvious- do it overnight!  It fit right in with my preparation for the Yosemite trip yet to come in the summer.  I reached out to friends and began probing interest.

Finger Rock, end of February (post-fiasco).

Sammi, a close friend and former teammate, was very interested, as was Sean Campbell (former teammate, close friend and Yosemite partner-to-be).  Soren’s mom was initially against the idea, but later would come around.  The date was still an unknown and plans were still liable to shift, but at least I had a willing and able (and awesome) crew to do it with.

As the beginning of June arrived, my sister decided to have a rather large sleepover for her birthday (on June 2^nd).  It quickly became apparent that I would not be welcome at my house other than sitting in my room.  I checked the weather report and with it came major excitement- no risk of precipitation, relatively cool temperatures and low humidity.  It was perfect.  I quickly contacted everyone, and plans were set.  Unfortunately, being the only one with an overnight parking permit, it involved me driving all over Tucson to pick everyone up!  Post-drive, we stood in the trailhead parking lot, able to see our objective clearly in the slowly fading light of late evening.

Sammi said goodbye to her mother who had dropped her off at the trailhead (she wasn’t finished getting ready when I had shown up at her house) while everyone else readied their packs.  I laced up the brand new FiveTen Guide Tennies I had purchased the day prior; not the ideal setup, but they would certainly be broken in by the time I was finished with them.  The plan entailed bivying for a few hours after descending the Finger, and as such we were all carrying overnight gear.  The 45-50 pound packs we each carried weighed heavily on us as we left the cars and started toward Finger Rock, silhouetted on the skyline.

Team photo! (minus Sean, who volunteered to take the photo after a couple failed self-shots).

Yeah, we weren't really on our photo taking game.

Sammi had voiced concerns about rattlesnakes both on the phone and in the parking lot.  Less than 10 minutes in to the hike, we had our first encounter with a rattler- poised a safe distance off of the trail, yet still announcing its deadly presence, we continued quickly past it.  Fortunately, this was to be our only snake encounter.  A few day-trippers were returning to their vehicles, and we warned them of the snake as we met them on the trail.  The light quickly fading, we reached the large boulder roughly a mile in and used it as an obvious stopping point before the trail turns steeply up the wall of the canyon.  As the last of the sun’s rays disappeared, we switched on headlamps, sipped water, and I swallowed a Clif Shot Turbo gel packet- I knew I was going to need the energy.  We decided that Sean (the de facto line leader due to his hiking stamina) should take my phone and play music to help prevent any future snake encounters.

With A Day To Remember playing from within Sean’s pocket, we started moving.  When we reached the relentless steepness that the Finger Rock trail earns its notorious reputation from, our goal was at least 8 minutes of hiking before resting.  We did this, rested a minute or two, and then started again.  Chugging along, we unknowingly walked straight past the next landmark we had chosen for a rest, the cutoff to a small lookout over the canyon.  Realizing we were making good time, we stopped to rest at a formation we dubbed the Cougar Cave, due to its likely role as a mountain lion’s shelter.  After a decent rest, we continued, achieving the promontory marking the end of this segment of the hike in far less time than anticipated.

The lights of a city sound asleep from the promontory.

Lounging after the infamous leg burner portion of the hike, we faced a choice- do we continue on toward the upper campsite and the Finger, or do we stop here and bivy?  I wanted to climb Finger Rock at night, and with the deadline Sammi’s mom had given us before she would call search and rescue (noon the next day), we decided to push on.  If we were too tired, we would stop at the campsite on the saddle behind Finger Rock and the Guard.

Sammi provides her best stereotypical asian-face while recharging with a Clif Bar.

Sean taking a well-deserved rest after leading the way up the rugged section of the trail we dubbed the Calf Burner 3000.

We picked up and started to move again, beginning with the quick descent into the canyon we had just fought our way up the side of.  Soon at the bottom, we crossed, found the trail and started up the seemingly gentler opposite side.  The going was steady, and our only rest came when we reached the upper campsite.  We resolved not to make the same trail-finding errors that had plagued my February attempt with Soren, and with this in mind, we chose the correct trail leading out of the saddle around 11PM.  As remembered, this trail involved a little 3^rd class (not so easy with large packs) that became a little trickier by headlamp.  Luckily, we stayed on target and finished the final brushy, uphill bushwack to the base of the technical route up the Finger.  We ascertained that this was, in fact, the actual route (and not another loose horrorshow as per February’s), threw down our packs and racked up.

As before, the lead fell to me.  I grabbed a couple cams and slings and started up the 4^th class V-slot that attains the first ledge.  I opted to forgo protection to allow Sean, Soren and Sammi to follow the clean face directly below the belay-tree.  When I arrived, I was a little uncomfortable with the size of the tree I was to belay from (and dismayed when I realized how loose the lip was).  I tried to back it up with a tight #4 Camalot, but it was useless as it would have just launched a rock down toward the base.  I pulled up and then tossed the rope down to get it out of the brush-filled gully.  Soren quickly climbed, thankfully following my instructions to avoid pulling on the death blocks poised on the edge of the belay ledge.  Sean did the same, while Sammi (climbing last) opted to climb the V-slot gully I had initially led. 

Sean can be seen scrambling around atop the main belay ledge.  I joined him and eventually we found what would have been the top out of my off-route adventure in February.

With all of us present on the belay ledge (forming the fist of the Finger as viewed from the city), we were ready to climb the final pitch and stand atop the wildy exposed spire in the darkness of night.  I tied back in, Soren put me on belay, and I started up, placing a #2 Camalot soon after leaving the ledge to prevent us both from falling off should I slip.  The bolt-protected “5.8 crux” came soon after.  This was an utter joke- the only change was that I had to stand on actual edges as opposed to large ledge features, with juggy quartz hands to boot.  Gripped with excitement, I clipped the chains and pulled onto the summit at 1:15AM.  In an instant, the beautiful lights of a sleeping Tucson came into view, along with a astonishingly bright moon illuminating the contours of the rugged Finger Rock Canyon.  After taking in the view (and a couple of self-shots), I downclimbed to the anchors and lowered back to the belay ledge so the others could experience the beauty I had just beheld.  Soren was next, then Sean, then Sammi.  Soren tried to “do the FA of the 5.11 sit start” and utterly failed in this endeavor, though providing much laughter in the process.  After Sean climbed and lowered back to the ledge, he announced that he had urinated from the top and Soren and I re-climbed after Sammi had visited the top to repeat this feat.  As Soren put it, it was the "best urination of my young life!"

Horrendous summit self-shot #1

Horrendous summit self-shot #2

Unfortunately, as with all great things, this had to come to an end.  We rappelled off, ate some food and packed up our bags with a new realization- we didn’t have time to sleep if we wanted to make it down before the sun commenced its brutal thermal assault on the canyon.  Around 3:30AM we started the hike down, reversing the still-tricky 3^rd class and eventually returning to the saddle.  We didn’t stop for long there; indeed, there would be no rest until returning to the canyon bottom, miles ahead.  Still charging along much faster than anticipated, we hiked the final uphill section to the promontory on the other side of the canyon and took a brief rest.  Here, the sky was beginning to turn from black to the deep blue of early morning, signaling the inevitable sunrise.  Still protected by the canyon, we continued on, able to turn off our headlamps just a short time later.  Along with Sean, I decided to run a portion of the trail, which was fun despite the likely destruction of the soft tissue in our knees.  We waited a short while later for the others to catch up, and we continued the long hike out.

Sean taking a rest just prior to our knee-destroying trail run.

Soren and Sammi, just behind Sean and I

Myself and Soren, circa 5:00AM on June 3rd.

Arriving at the conclusion of the miles of downhill hiking, we started the slow, mostly flat hike back to the car.  This section of the trail always seems far longer on the way out than at the start of the hike, seeming to go on forever.  It might as well, as I wished to cherish every second of the amazing night.  We reached the car at 6:08AM, marking the end of a stellar adventure.  We all piled in, exhausted.  I drove Sean and Sammi home, but while dropping Soren off his mother offered to buy us breakfast!  I gratefully accepted, and soon after we proceeded to eat delicious breakfast bagels prepared by the pros at Brueger’s Bagels.  We finished our meals and went our separate ways.  I returned to my home, recounted some stories to my eager parents, and very quickly passed out on the couch.  In the seconds before I drifted off to sleep, I couldn’t help but think one thing- that this summer was going to be the greatest ever.

We were pretty wiped at the end, despite the numerous energy products consumed throughout the night.  This is demonstrated here by this glorious photo I took of myself near the end of the hike.

More (bad) photos:

Soren chilling during our break at the promontory.

Myself enjoying the view of the city lights while recovering.

Soren taking a quick break at the campsite on the saddle behind Finger Rock and the Finger Rock Guard.

Sean and Soren at the saddle campsite.

Sammi - guess where - at the saddle campsite!

How do I self shot in poor lighting?  Clearly, paint with headlamp held overhead!  Also, we were sweaty.  Very sweaty.

Really cool window feature on the main belay ledge.

The lights of Tucson around 4:00AM on the descent.

Finger Rock Mini-Epic Trip Report

            Thursday, February 23.  First day of rodeo break, and I’m awake at 5:00AM.  I’m moving a little slower than I’d like to be; I text Soren and let him know I’m going to be a few minutes later than I expected.  I eat my signature breakfast, consisting of large quantities of Frosted Flakes, and shove my gear, lunch and water into my pack.  I arrive at Soren’s house at 5:56AM.  He grabs his stuff and throws it in the back next to mine.  After a quick stop at CVS for sunglasses (they weren’t open), we arrive at our destination.

            Our goal is to hike and climb Finger Rock.  The Finger Rock canyon trail is notorious for its relentless steepness, and what’s more is wrought with occasionally tough trail-finding.  The climb itself, were it not for its prominent and exposed position, promises to be fairly anticlimactic at the rather mellow grade of 5.8.  We check everything; I’ve got the hardware, Soren has the rope, we both have food and water.  We start hiking at 6:34AM in the darkness of early morning.  In short order, the sky turns a deep blue and begins to lighten as we trudge along the low angle, easy hiking of the first section of the trail, the spring in our steps not yet deadened by our heavy packs.

First rays of morning sun hitting Finger Rock Canyon.

            We take our first water break at a large boulder next to the trail, perhaps a mile in.  Just a little farther, we find ourselves at a crossroads. We decide to take the trail branch that follows the canyon bottom farther- this is a mistake.  After 20 minutes, the trail disappears, and we have to backtrack and try again.  Fortunately, there were only two options.  Unfortunately, we had reached the point when the trail starts to head uphill for a several mile long leg burner.  Thankfully, the trail is much clearer, and we have only occasional questions about where to go.

Soren enduring the relentless uphill steepness.

            Three miles and 2400 feet higher than the start of the hike, we arrive at the point where the canyon turns east.  Grateful to be back on level ground if only for a short time, Soren and I sit down for a few minutes to rest.  This is by no means our only rest since the boulder, but certainly the longest.  1920 feet in elevation gain in only two miles has ensured that our legs are thoroughly wrecked- and the hike is far from over.

Look kids!  I can self-shot too!

            After our rest, we head down the trail into the canyon bottom and start the slog up the other side.  Our impression was that we are nearly done- not so!  The hike is steeper, looser, and harder to follow from this point forward.  It contours up the NW side of the canyon and, after a mile or two of even more challenging hiking, finally comes to a close at a saddle just behind Finger Rock and the Finger Rock Guard (the hikable formation just east of Finger Rock proper). After a brief rest, we set out, unwittingly following a trail that dead-ends yet is heavily cairned.  After the wasted time, we try again; the new trail joins the dead-end trail we had just tried.  After destroying every cairn on the trails to nowhere that would could find, we stop to eat lunch.  We had wasted two hours on trails that didn’t even lead anywhere!  Fortunately, the third try was the charm, and we found ourselves at the saddle between the Guard and the Finger.

Hiking up the other side of the canyon.  The shoulder in the center of the photo is the top of the initial climb.

Soren happy to "almost be there," before we realized our trail was a dead end.

Finally made it to the saddle between the Finger and the Guard!

The beautiful view from the saddle.

            After taking in the view, we drop our packs and rack up.  With technical climbing gear donned and camera clipped to my harness, we start on the climb to the top of the Finger itself.  The first pitch (section) of the climb was described as a low-angle fourth-class gully, capped by a large tree.  We rope up at the base of a feature that matches this description, or so it seems standing beneath it.  I elect to not bother with a belay; it is only fourth class, right?  80 feet up I was presented with an unexpected challenge: a small roof loomed overhead.  I call for Soren to put me on belay, and I place two pieces of gear below the roof.  I pull the roof, which by no means was fourth-class.  I thought that maybe I was just letting the height get to me, and besides, there were several anchor slings from previous parties wrapped around the tree and a stuck piece of gear above.  We had to be in the right place.  I belay Soren up and he hands my gear back to me.  The second pitch supposedly has a solid bolt to clip before the hardest move, but I’m not taking any chances.  Soren put me on belay as I ventured onto the face above.

This is my stuff.  Soren had a full singles rack also.  Talk about overkill.

            For as much as I had heard about the quality of the rock on the Finger, the choss I was pulling on was far from inspiring.  Immediately off of the belay, I was presenting with unexpectedly difficult moves.  We had either gotten sandbagged, or (I tried to fight this notion aside) we weren’t on the correct route.  Undeterred, I clip the fixed piece of gear and, for good measure, place a piece of my own adjacent to it.  I pull more hard moves (5.10ish) and am presented with a sloping ledge.  With the bolt nowhere in sight, I pause.  Was it possible we really weren’t in the right place?  It couldn’t be- the number of slings left on the tree was too great for them to be from parties that had bailed, wasn’t it?

            After a few minutes of hesitation and a couple of aborted attempts, I commit to the moves away from the small corner and out onto the face.  Immediately, it is clear that this was, in fact, not the correct route.  A few scary hard moves (probably 5.10+R/X) were the only obstacle separating me from the big ledge looming above.  Several moves on small edges (with my last protection 10 feet below my feet in questionable rock), the only obvious hold was a large flake that seemed solidly attached.  I grab it, start to pull up towards the lip of the ledge (close enough to touch!), and, to my horror, the giant flake begins to flex under my weight.  Terrified, I down climb back to the ledge.  I mutter several profanities and decide to bail.  No way was I ever going to do that.

            Bewildered, I rig a rappel off of the tree and Soren and I descend.  Before we left the belay station, we had an incredibly disappointing revelation- we didn’t have enough time left to climb the proper route!  The outrageously exposed summit of Finger Rock had eluded us, and our 4.5 or 5 mile uphill hike had been for naught. We pack up our stuff, take a few photos from the saddle, and start our hike back to the car.

We tried to climb the chossfest gully on the right hand side to the tree, and from there straight up the face.  This is wrong. Very, very wrong.  The actual route is on the other side of the Finger.

Soren, looking stoic even after our botched non-send.

I'm not as stoic.  No send = sad face.

            Far faster than the slog up the hill, the descent nevertheless is exhausting.  Back at the promontory that marked the descent into the canyon on the way up, I eat a Clif Shot Turbo (100mg of caffeine in a tiny gel package!) and we start again.  Energized by the strangely textured and tasting food item, I pick up the pace down the trail.  I’m usually a pretty out-of-control downhill hiker (more like controlled falling than hiking), but I am too burnt out by the day to manage anything more than a steady walk.  A few minor slips and brushes with death (the mental image of potentially rolling and falling down the side of the canyon was horrifying enough to refocus my attention) are the only eventful happenings on the way down.

Looking back towards the finger on the descent.

You have eluded us, Finger Rock. We'll be back.

Looking down-canyon during the hike back to the car.  I love the Tucson desert!

Taking a break on the hike down.  Finger Rock Canyon - the only place you'll ever need to rest while walking downhill.

            With completely dead legs, we stumble back to the parking lot from the trailhead.  We had made it.  Finger Rock loomed above us mockingly.  In our minds, it had transformed from a thumbs up to a middle finger.  We would need to do it again, but next time we would be ready.  We drive back to the good ol’ OV we call home, have an excellent meal at the Mexican restaurant next to the local Dominoes, and call it a day.

            Next time, I thought.  Next time.