Never Say Never

Never Say Never

Story by Alan Lindsay

They say that discretion is sometimes the better part of valor. However, it seems that with big-wall climbing, pigheaded stubbornness and a stupid refusal to accept defeat plays a role as well. For after innumerable test climbs and disastrous first starts, I finally have a big-wall under my belt.

It was only Space Shot and we did it in what had to be record slow time and it's pretty tame compared to some of the other walls you all have done, but dammit!, I've been working at this for over two years and I'm pretty happy about it.

From as far back as I can remember, this is the kind of climbing I've imagined doing. My earliest stirrings of a desire to climb came from seeing images of big-wall climbing. All my climbing so far, fun as it's been, has seemed to be only playing around. To me, the serious climbers are the ones up there, 1,000 feet off the ground.

I cannot describe the amazing sensations doing this climb produced. So much air around you. The extreme exposure, the mixed feeling of dread and awe from all this rock stretching up and away. Words simply cannot describe.

One cool part is being up there with complete confidence, with the utter assurance that you have the skills and know-how to be up there, safely and how almost matter-of-fact it becomes to be hanging from an anchor, pasted to the side of this amazing face.

One thing's for sure, this shit is harder than I ever could've imagined. Never would've even started if I'da known how much WORK I was in for. This whole project has been a series of me thinking I got it wired, then getting slammed with the reality of just how woefully unprepared I really was. I got spanked and sent home from Yosemite. I got slapped around on this route last fall. I've popped gear on test climbs around SLC. All part of the ongoing saga of my learning how do this.

We first tried the route last fall. We made all sorts of mistakes, slow as hell, not enough water, worst of all, no belay seat (DUH!). Around 8:00 p.m., we were only 1/2 pitch from a bivy ledge and then 1 more pitch to the top But, we were trashed, out of light and water, unsure of the rest of the climb and the descent, lacking enough clothes for a bivy, we decided to bail by rapping the face.

It took 4 hours and 8 raps to get off, including 4 pendulums of about 10-15 foot (in the dark, with haul bags, feet slipping against the sandstone) and one stuck rope (free air jugging to clean, ugh).

Needless to say, it took a while to get the motivation to try again. I was very dejected after that attempt and really had to let some time go by before I could imagine doing this ever again.

Like childbirth, you soon forget the pain and suffering, and only remember how amazing and thrilling it was. So back to Zion.

Left late Thursday (on the heels of a late snow storm) with a new strategy, more water, and a belay seat (yay!!). Got to the park in time to check out who's planning to be on the route, and get organized for the next day. Early start, looking good, then, BAM. Over night a solo climber has jumped ahead of us. Shit!! What with all his cocking about with stuck haul bags, he never really got ahead of us, so we had to wait for him all day. Worked it out, though, (and in fact he ended up bailing). We climbed the first two pitches (where I had a piece pop and took a little ride) and fixed ropes back to the little ledge to bivy. Nice bivy, plenty of food and water, cool evening light, full moon over the valley, life was sweet. (I even found the secret sleeping ledge). Pretty tired, but I soon recovered.

Next morning, I'm up early, do a BWD, eat and get dressed. Walked over to where my partner slept, and BAM!! He's having a personal crisis. He apparently spent all night thinking about all the ways he could get killed doing this, missing his wife and kids, and feeling guilty about being here when there were so many other things he should be doing. Wants to go down. Now.

I actually was expecting this, sooner or later. He did this stuff last year, and was dropping hints on the way down this time. I'm furious. I mean, never mind all that work getting this far. Never mind that I led everything yesterday. Never mind that this is our best chance of doing this sumbitch once and for all. Never mind that now I get to jug two pitches to clean the ropes, then 5 raps to get off.

However, I was cool. We talked.

I used my all my parenting skills. I used my all my interpersonal skills. I used my all my partnering skills. I allowed that he has a right to climb or not climb according to his own emotions. I related various anecdotes that seemed appropriate. From personal experience, I assured him that even though his wife was pissed that he was down here, going home early would not make her any less pissed. In the end he decided to continue the climb. Sheesh!!

So, crisis averted, we got back at it. We jugged back to our high point, partner took off on his lead, and I kicked back to enjoy the view. And what a view. I cannot even begin to describe what an amazing experience it is to be pasted to that sheer wall in that gorgeous canyon. One sight I'll never forget. As my partner pulled up and away, the morning sun hit at just the right angle to light up the fuzz on the ropes and webbing. So here we were, brilliant red rock, deep blue sky and a golden aura around all the ropes and webbing. To complete the riot of intense color, a white jet trail appeared from behind the wall, exactly over my partners head. Amazing.

My pitch, now. The one that should take us to the last ledge and off. I tried some new advice that worked like a dream. Instead of the usual aid technique, I took a set of 4 cams on each aider and just slid them up the crack like jumars on a rope, picking which ever cam fit the crack at that place. Put in a piece every so often for protection and rock and roll. 160 feet later, I'm at the ledge, with only a short bolt ladder, a little 5.6, and we're off.

Partner jugs and cleans. Of course, since I didn't have many pieces in, and since the route veers right significantly, my strategy has the side effect of giving the second a hell of a swing every time he cleans a piece. This, remember, is the guy who was convinced he was going to die up here, the one who wanted to go down 250 meters and 8 hours ago. Needless to say, he was a bit rattled by the time he gets to me.

It's 6:00 by this time (I told you we were slow) and we're both pooped. It's getting dark and we're still unsure about the descent. Worry time.

This ?short bolt ladder? turned out to be the most spectacular pitch of climbing I have ever done. The last pitch starts from this block right at the edge of a roof formed by this huge arch, then goes up and out over a bulge. So, here we are, swinging free, dangling from a pair of aiders, with 2,000 feet of air below my heels and the whole Zion canyon over my shoulder. WHEEEE!!! "Look at me Ma, I'm an AID Climber!!!" Gotta trust the engineers who designed this stuff.

Hand traverse on a ledge, one last little blast up the corner and THAT'S IT, WE'RE DONE!! YAY!!

No time to play around, though. Gathering gloom and all that rot.

I'm good for a bivy up top and going down in the light, but my partner is a good Mormon and needs to get home for Church and worries that his wife will be concerned if he doesn't show up on time. I admit that I'd just as soon get off and let my wife know I'm okay, too. So, down we go.

I got just enough of a look around before dark to have an idea how to get down. Couldn't see everything, but I saw enough to let my intuition lead us to the general area to start the raps. I must say, walking down those slabs in the dark, heading towards the abyss was dramatic. One slip and away we go.

Together we were able to pick up the various anchors and ledges to hit for the 5 raps to the ground. 4 hours to get down, it's 12:30 and WE DID IT!!. Pretty much turned a Grade 4 (one day) wall into a Grade 6 (multi day), but we got up and down with out losing any gear, teeth (although I popped a cam and it hit me in the mouth), or even our lunch.

We drove through the night, getting home at about 7:30 am. By that time, I'd gone 24 hours on about 1 hour sleep, a bagel and an orange for food. I still had on the same clothes I was wearing when I left the house on Thursday. I took a quick shower and crashed. I was a little tired.

If I had any sense, I'd take up an easier sport like golf or tennis. If I had any sense, I'd accept the obvious and stay on the ground where I obviously belong. But If I had any sense, I'd never have made it up this climb.

Despite all the setbacks, stubbornness eventually wins out.

Alan Lindsay, Salt Lake City
AKLindsay1@AOL.com