Keith's Big Has-Been Ho-Down

I don't blog because I live a meaningless existence (at least in the short term). Nobody wants to read how I got up and left home in the dark before anyone was awake, worked, then got home after most everyone was asleep (repeated 365x yearly.) I recently got a glimpse of the better life that I used to live and my hope for the future.

Definition from Urban Dictionary: Ho down- A ho down is a ceremony in which drunken hicks run around clapping, yelling, sloshing hard liquor and banging the #%&! out of their siblings.

I flew into Vegas on a Friday night. Friday night flights into Vegas are always interesting. The excitement of the passengers hangs in the air like the smell of their pre casino alcohol binge. I'm not a small dude anymore but was smashed up against the window by a lesbian couple that made me look like a lightweight. It's important to feel light before a big rock climb so while I was smashed, I at least felt lucky for it.

Picked up the rental car and zipped back to retrieve Layne and Dave, my brothers-in-law. Then it was straight out into the star filled sky and empty desert. I had never paid to camp at the Red Rocks as I always just drove to the end of a dirt road and camped in a grove of joshua trees. My old grove of joshua trees was razed to put in a Starbucks that is now three miles from the edge of town so we pulled into the campground and paid $10 per night for site #1.

The concern was that the temps would be a little low for comfortable climbing. This fear was further emphasized as we rounded the corner on Saturday morning to see snow hanging low, very low on all of the ledges on Mt. Wilson. Our plan was to try to stay in the sun on south facing walls. My second unfounded fear was of crowds. Saturday on south facing Windy Peak with one of the longest and thus crowd deterring approaches in the Red Rocks sounded perfect.

When I was 14 or so I read a "how to climb" book published by the Sierra Club that stated that it was important to enjoy the approach as well as the climb in order to savor the entire experience. Then, and for most of my climbing career on a long uphill bushwhack, I often reflected on how that passage was so much idealistic garbage. This time as I sucked air and struggled for breath and to avoid cactus, I again thought about that passage and realized how much I was enjoying the approach. I still am not going to send any money to the club.

I greedily took the first lead. It looked easy and fun but ended up being hard. I had to pull a little roof, I was scared and loving it. I (again greedily) tried to combine the first two pitches but got scared and went back down to the obvious belay terrace. That was where the first cactus event occurred.

The best seat on this sun-warmed slab of Aztec sandstone just happened to be next to a nice little prickly pear. I belayed Dave up and warned him of the dangerous cactus as he sat down. It was a mistake that I regretted later to laugh at him when he brushed his leg past it and got jabbed by a few of its razor sharp needles. I rationalized to him that at least I had warned him but he clearly held a bit of a grudge. The pitches up to the last one then unfolded as we followed a big corner that evolved into a big roof to traverse under for the crux. It was starting to get cold in the shade.

The last pitch was mine and it tended to ramble with various alternatives towards the top. We left our guidebook and topo in the car and were relying on a written description to get up the route. I was cold and my feet were in excruciating pain from my rock shoes so I was trying to hurry. Dave was shouting out the description as I sprinted for the sunlit rock that was the top. I pulled a small roof and to my horror a HUGE cactus blocked all hope of upward progress. Cold, the screaming of the proper digital nerves in my toes, and the impending forearm pump helped me to think perhaps I could just scrape past the left side of this monster. It didn't work. My entire right thigh still hurts and Andrea is still using tweezers to pull out the spines I can't reach. Not in a position to stand around, (my feet hurt worse than the cactus spines at this point) I finished the pitch in poor style and crashed into a warm cozy alcove to belay L&D up.


The descent was classic Red Rocks style with a short traverse to a steep gully that dumped us right out at the base of the route. By now I was getting really sore. My leg muscles, feet, and bristling right thigh all competed for bandwidth in the pain pathway that everybody knows can only handle so much volume. Back at the car the seat hit my leg at just the right angle so that every movement on the gas pedal ground cactus pines deeper and deeper....

We ate In and Out burgers before driving back to site #1 to crash for the night. Luckily the next day was Sunday. I have always reserved Sunday as an automatic rest day and took no exceptions this time. I also knew that, at best, I had maybe two consecutive climbing days in me so this was an easy way out of the embarrassment of being the anchor that would eventually slow the group down if we kept climbing. We drove the scenic loop, took scenic hikes and pontificated about how hard we were back when. I also humiliated Dave and Layne by making them pull cactus spines out of where the sun just don't shine! Then we stopped off at the bookstore before finding what became our regular evening hangout. Baja Fresh. Dave and Layne are California guys and probably don't consider Baja Fresh even Mexican food. Being from Philly, I did. Now just consider for a moment: 3 middle aged men, one tent, no shower for 5 days and three consecutive nights of faux Mexican food......

Monday we were somewhat fresh and feeling spunky so we racked up for a one pitch 5.9 before heading over to the days final destination. In humility I'll forego any details about the beautiful 5.9 finger crack. Our next objective was a blob of rock known as the Mescalito. Our route which turned out to be brilliant is guarded by a much less than even luminescent final 300 yards of approach: an almost vertical manzanita bushwhack on rotten rock covered in mountain Sheep poo. From below, the route seemed to mirror the approach, minus the poo. It quickly got better though. We were pulling small roofs on giant jugs with good pro and OK belay ledges. Even though the route could easily have been a wide chimney horror show it was actually a very elegant face climb. About the time we hit the top at the end of pitch 5 it hit me the lateness of the hour and how expensive the fine is if we do not get the car out of the scenic loop by 5:00 PM. I turned into "Brother Card" and marshaled Troop 30 through the rappels back to the ground while I contemplated our error in taking our packs to the base of the climb. I finished the rappel and ran around the formation and reclimbed the feces infested approach then climbed back down wearing three backpacks. Dave had gone on to the car alone so Layne and I hurried as fast as we could (well, me anyway as I'm sure Layne the Ironman could have sprinted away leaving me in the dust at any moment). We beat the ranger with time to spare.

Back at Baja Fresh after doing another enchilada style we sized each other up for the next days climb. I secretly was hoping for no repeats of climbs I had done previously. One climb that: A. was well with in our abilities (about 5.6), B. faced south so as to catch some sun, and C. I had never done. One climb that fit this description was Cat Walk 5.6+. The only problem was of course the approach. The guidebook said 3 hours with 5 for the descent. The thing is like 9 pitches. We had averaged around 1 hour per pitch so far on this trip. (Well, it took us about 2 hours to do 1/3 of one 5.9 finger crack pitch but I had promised not to talk about that.) So 3 hours to hike in, 9 hours to climb, 5 hours out...we all did the math in our heads. Our eyes that were bulging out from too many black beans bulged a little farther... Somehow we talked ourselves into at least giving it a shot. We were honestly only drinking sodas. My brilliant contribution was to get up at 4:30 to start the hike. Layne and Dave related that they had never actually seen 4:30 AM but were willing to take a look for the sake of the last day of climbing. 4:30 is early for me but being on Pacific time I still got to sleep in as I am usually at work for hours before 4:30 AM Pacific time arrives. To their credit L&D did not mutiny but dutifully set their watches.

Because the loop road at Red Rocks is gated and opens after the sun comes up we got to walk an extra two miles backwards around the loop road in the middle of the night. We dropped into Oak Creek proper just as it was getting light in the east. As we groveled up the boulder-strewn gully, I was giddy with excitement. It was just like old times. Even though I had not been there in 10 years I clearly remembered many of the boulders and pools. I kept thinking how there is nothing even remotely like Oak Creek in Pennsylvania. Then I realized that it must be because of the expense of union labor that they just can't make a proper canyon back east. The slippery slabs above icy water chased away any thought of sleep. We finally broke out into the sun just below our route and promptly stopped for breakfast after 3 hours of hiking and scrambling at near lactic threshold.

We were hoping to climb faster than previous days and I even wore a watch for the first time while climbing to keep track of our progress. Once we got to the second pitch the only way off was up so we did not have much choice anyway. After a little slip up on the first pitch we found our rhythm and climbed quickly. Dave heroically combined three pitches in one lead to a nice mossy belay ledge in the shade. 80 feet above our heads was a much better ledge but because ignorance is sometimes bliss and other times fatal while climbing, we enjoyed some dry salami and cheese. The fatality occurred on the very next pitch when Layne was in a somewhat blissless state when he sandwiched his camera between some big cams and the outer edge of a chimney while performing a wet vertical grovel in a flaring slot. Cracked LCD screen. Layne was horrified of what Jami would do to him upon his return. At least it still works and takes pictures even though you have to look through the viewfinder.

The rest of the climb was a beautiful face with fun moves on big holds with lots of air below the painful feet. The hike out did not take 5 hours and we even made it back to the car before we needed headlamps. We drove straight to Baja Fresh while complaining how sick of it we were and how we should find somewhere else to go. The enchilada style is like a homing device to me. Sorry guys I could not help it.

I should also mention the sad movie incident but Andrea just reminded me that this post is way too long.

Three very good climbs, three very good meals at Baja Fresh, three very stinky guys. But this one guy had the best time in many years. Thanks to Layne and Dave for coming along, but bigger thanks to Jami (sorry about the camera), Shannon, and most of all Andrea for letting this has-been ho down go down!