Chip called me up. His concrete company had no work. So, where to go climbing?


Indian Creek? Nah....to many people....

Fisher Towers?


Oh no, not again......

No. It was time to revisit Valley of the Gods, far south, near Mexican Hat. Long, long drive, but no crowds--in fact almost no people at all. Chip's dogs Millie and Art could come, too. Excellent!



And what to climb?

The most esthetic, loneliest of all the formations is this:


Lady in the Bathtub.

We hiked in--it’s a long hike, like a couple miles--intending to do the original route, done by George Hurley and Bill Forrest back in the mid-'70s. But once at the base, a recent, steep, direct climb up the south face, called Cape Town Caper, grabbed our attention like a pretty nurse in a nursing home.



The first pitch ended at a nice big ledge. A ledge made of rubble. So I continued upward for another half a pitch.

next day, Here's Chip jumaring to the high point:


Chip cruised to the next ledge, then started up the last pitch. A banshee wind screamed in. The dogs, at the base, began howling. We narrowly escaped having to bivy on the halfway ledge.


Next day, wild morning light:




We took the day off, drove around the rez, amid occasional blizzards. Next morning, all was calm, but not quite what we were hoping for:


We retired to the San Juan Inn for a great breakfast served by Joey


The weather improved and we finally summited a classic tower, easy on paper, but several days to complete.


nearby was another formation, Hidden Tower:



Well, okay, it's not really so nearby. A full three mile approach, including a 500-foot talus cone.

There was an alluring line, of course, seemingly unclimbed:

And of course, it turned out that if this was visible from a mile away it was not going to be hands--duhh....

In fact getting to the splitter looked really chossy, so we picked a dihedral to the right. After a 15-foot scramble, the first piece was a Tomahawk (the tiniest, of course). Much whining ensued, but in the end I stepped up and got going.


A fine pitch of all sizes of crack followed. Including a splitter seam through a shield, high up. At one point I had to dislodge a microwave-size block at arm's reach above me. There should be a name for this procedure. You reach up and slowly, millimeter by millimeter, move the boulder to its tipping point. Then comes the exciting bit; with belayer safely around a corner, you nudge the boulder the final bit. And you have a fraction of a second, a tiny instant, where this rock--right above you--is on its way--there's no going back!--but it has no momentum and you can direct it away from your own head. Time this wrong and you risk head injury or damaged ropes or worse.



Attentive belayer:


Next pitch started steep, became loose then entered a splitter crack then turned out to be 6-9 inches over a 50-foot stretch.


A third pitch was frighteningly loose (if only because of the belayer right below...). The summit silent, strange, no sign whatsoever of other visits






Yeah! Twenty-five years of keeping one step ahead of the crowds! Woohoo.

Anyone around Colorado Springs this weekend, I'm doing a slideshow Saturday at the climbing gym Sport Climbing Center. Come and listen to many more tall tales! Next Thursday a show at Neptunes in Boulder, with Lynn Hill.