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 Solar Sanctuary Credit: Tvash |
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Date: 7/3/2013
Trip Report:
like the flight of geese south or the ambulation of antiquated drunks towards dumpsters at dawn, so too my vernal adventure Way South to the land of the Withering Sun - this here annum had a bit of a partner crisis at the penultimate moment of truth, leaving me sh#t-faced n' sad-clowning as the seniors walked down the stage to the strains of whatever-the-f*#k that tired auold song is - a weekend at trout creek thrashed my digits right rudely, but at the end it was all set to rights, w/ that old-boy tvash all signed up for another season of glory
day 1 - after grocery shopping all hopped up on gin n' juice and in the throes of a fierce feed-urge, i emerge w/ 50 days of supplies, mostly comprised of booze n' candy n' cans of chili - we stuff the last nook n' cranny of the Red Devil all full of sack n' sin n' cast off, away w/ a will towards the lands of lucifer - pat must play the part of absentee-landlord in portland however, so we pause first in the abode of lank-hipsters in their abode of pbr-inflected porn n' poor knock-offs of 80's arcade games, bashing on pipes w/ a malice of pure hate-f*#k, interspersed w/ gallomps off to hardware stores for f*#k-all
but then the bent space, the roar of travel along the interstellar track of holy-shit infinite I5 - oregon like a fat chick, stretching on forever, all greasy n' sweaty n' desperately worth forgetting, just what drugs were damn well designed for - our send sure as sh#t after an august omen, an eagle soaring above us as we roared on down the proud highway - shasta near sunset - the farmlands of the fertile valley past dusk - shuttered gas-stations saving our buzz-killed bacon - the gps the Wise Wabbit, not to be waffled w/, even as it sends us on tracks i ain't never trod before - yosylum by an as-yet untrammeled track - 140 at 140 AM, me too trammel-f*#ked to make anything like the posted speed-limit as tvashie snores away
day 2 - 4 AM and we're standing before the man tall n' proud even before the sun takes on the status of a pre-teen's titty - camp 4's done taken on some changes - frau blucher's still in charge, but grim signs up all over warning off those who'd sleep in line or show up before the f*#ked hour when you'd be late already
if you've been there before, you recognize all the arche-types - the comatose, the cock-up'ed, the foreign n' f*#ked-all angry
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Camp 4, 5 AM
burgundy n' breez'n through beta at the break of day
before too long we had a berth though and set up shop in a newly arranged camp 4 - the sun-blasted heath of half the camp sent off to the shade - we moved in w/ damned michaganians or some-such, all rimmed w/ sarcasm but the feminine one right-easy on the eyes - i slumbered in the smokey sun n' we set plans to be up at 4, our plan to beat-the-heat by pioneering the path up to the lost arrow in the cool dawn, fix the first few pitches, fetch water from the foaming torrent, then boogey on down the bitch for a manly soak in the merced
day 3 - stumble-f*#king afore dawn, amidst the still suffocating heat of the muffled valley - we worry our way up talus n' shaded scree to steep forest, traverse through the woods on a wounded shelf complete w/ the crusty skeleton of a scooter, then as day breaks, after hemming'n'hawing over a dead-end, reach a 4th class step that leads us up to steep sand, shitty forest and shaky slabs - our reward, the big dong at day break:
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The Lost Arrow from the base of Upper Yosemite Falls
at the base of the route, this bitch seems basic, hard to imagine how it could take us 3 days to top it, but who am i to judge when the lion's breath on the heath is gusting up around us? we quickly grok the start, n' pat takes p1, a short little free thing
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Tvash on P1
i do p2, a simple thing of bolt n' rivet clipping w/ a few pieces of gear n' some bat-hooks to get you along - we fix back to the ground, barely making it w/ my 200 foot static - the sizzling sun got up on us just as we made it to the belay, but then a most fortuitous slab resting against the wall at the base makes a happy hole to suck down the fumes of many a fine fragrant herb whilst wondering over the next stage of the sun-marathon
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Ivan at the base
our crap clusters the line as i peer out at the big-man-peeing piss-stream of the epoynmous yosylum cataract
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Upper Falls from the base cave
the back broken on our days chore, we do one final task, stumbling down 500 feet or so to a spur trail that takes us out to the slabs leading up to the fall (you could fix a tree higher up, but that sh#t seemed stupid) - there we filled most of our water, hucked it back up to the base, treated it w/ tasty pills, then shuffled on back down the climber's track to a good old soak in the rushing riffles of that pleasant stream, replete w/ titties n' tourists
day 4 - the evening afore i devil-talk auold tvashie into taking another rest day, me sore n' sad-faced after only a first day's effort in the teeth of the sun-furnace - he acquiesces to my augustly rendered rhetoric, assuming we'll launch at midnight - we have chili n' cheese n' cheery talk w/ tourists along the rambling river, then do our best to turn in around dark, but still only manage a couple hours of sleep in the stifling heat before the alarm sounds it's vivaldian shreik and we're up n' packing n' casting off down the pakistani death loop, caching our foodz at el cap bridge and then sentencing the Red Devil to days of scorching sun in the unshaded hell-hole of the lost arrow meadow
day 5 - portaging our bulging packs up the woody cliff-ways, we reach the base w/ the first glimmerings of the sun in the offing - soon enough i've jugged up the rope n' banged up the bag - still in the early dawn old pat, replete w/ sins n' begging for a beat-up, get's the wideness of p3 - some mandatory 5.9 off-width and a bunch of 8 inch wideness, but he makes it happen, whining no less than the average crack-whore w/ a cracked-tooth n' a 7 PM curfew - i do p4 as the sun gets up on us, a simple pitch w/ some more wideness, but easily overcome w/ cam n' cliffhook and i'm up on the tiiiiiiiiitty ledge of the First Error even as the heat of the day sets in
we have time to set up our First Light, rig up the haul-bag foam pad as a pleasant awning, then get under cover as the Deep Scorch frys all in its fierce gaze
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High Noon atop First Error (Camp 1)
satisfied by artificial shade, i read a bit of a book, then bonk out, bested by 12 hours already on the go, though its only a bit past noon - eventually the sun sets behind the hill-side beyond the falls, and the both of us get to to our dinners
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Hot Lunch inside the Solar Sanctuary - Camp 1
a late after-noon glimpse up the tower we're gamboling on after
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Our ill-fated rope bucket, P 7
pat gets p5 in the evening, me belaying from the tent as the dark sets in and the wind winds up - him down after sunset, we set the watch for 2 AM and get to sleep
day 6 - baffled in the blinding darkness, blasted by gusts galloping up the falls, we rise, refill the food-tanks, then pack n' blast off again - i clean p5, then lead p6 n' 7, leaving me in a cool tree-well for pat to take p8 even as the sun sets its eager eye upon our wall - p8 a bit more wideness, but sweet n' short, n' pat's atop it w/o too much cussing, getting us to the Second Error in the Big Scorch
again, we set up the tent, rig an awning, erect the umbrella, suck down smoke n' sin, n' wait for the Awful to ambulate on off - luckily a wave of thunderstorms ambles on through, giving us shade n' no rain and a space to nap for a few hours, then another wave of pouring rain for a wee bit
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Solar Sanctuary - 2nd Error (Camp 2)
bitch'n view of a bifurcating fall
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The Pool from Second Error (Camp 2)
around 6 the sun sets n' the rain runs away - tvashie takes off up p9 - bolts n' bathooks n' rivets n' then he gets real sad - he gets a pic of the second error before running away - a fine ledge, superior even to el cap spire on the salathe - planed down flat n' easy on the back
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Ivan belaying P9 from 2nd Error (Camp 2)
day 7 - up n' ambling again at 2 - the night before had set it to me a good bit - to finish p9 had taken a mini-nut, then a wild free move off a sh#t-cam that failed n' sent me flying, springing the main-strings n' tendons of my right hand - i awoke skeeert then of this day, w/ 3 consecutive c2 pitches that clearly auold-pat werent' gonna come to grips w/, lest the rope had been already wrangled way up above him
p10 a fierce n' grand one - a great stance, grim to get to when you've fixed from the Second Error - tiny off-set cams to some security, then a wild step left and a mandatory, obscure skyhook - p11 winds up a horrid stance, but pat tucked in to a chasm to partake of shade n' a decent seat- i'm off aiding the start of p12, a pleasing face-in lazer-crack, which leads to a pendulum and some easy-enough thin-aiding, helped along by copious fixed gear
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Ivan on P11
p11 ends at an odd hole, an anchor made entirely of bongs n' bad-ass old pins, not unlike p10 too - i beefed it up w/ a few cams, brought the bag and old-boy up, then blasted off for our final ledge
the sun set upon us as we reached the less-titacular ledgeness of p12's top, but we paused to set up shelter, even as rain-shadows set in again - no big blow this time, but by 420 it was time to keep moving up, to lead a baby-distance of p13, then all of p14, leaving us for our 4th day on the wall set to do just one more pitch, then rap off
the topo said p13 was easy 5.6, but something about the air around 420 made tvashie deeply paranoid and sad-clown as he hemmed n' hawwed n' cluster-fracked his way around until finally being brow-beaten enough by your's truly to Just F*#kign Get It Done Man!!! eventually he Paid Heed, then dispatched p14 too as i snoozed on a sweeeeet belay ledge, dreaming of such lovely ladies
that night, our tiny tent half-way hanging off the cliff face, i elected to sleep alone, and so we arose separate in the midst of a fierce breeze around 3 AM to get the rest of this thing done
day 8 - the penultimate pitch is a wonder of man-wrought nature - from a good ledge, replete w/ trash from the myriad's doing just the tip route, a long line of bolts n' rivets n' offset cams to come at the coolness -we lose a bit of time as pat has to rap back down and jug back up, having left our static line fixed to camp and incapable of service in rapping off the summit
one of many...
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Rivet and hanger
i reached the summit, wrangling w/ my own fears, even as Petulant Pat glowed in the glorious exposure you grok good-n-proper when cleaning the final pitch
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Look down: P15
the wind blew and the sun grew - the tourists slept sweet dreams of pre-pubescent titties, and there the two of us stood on what seemed the roof-top of the world
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Cheeze
the lost arrow summit set me to scratching my head - obviously many do the Get-The-F*#king-Nitro Vertical Limit tyrolean off, but that wasn't in our cards, and so why no simple no rap set up? no chains? we had to leave 2 slings n' a couple 'biners, but then we were off
me following the rap into the notch - right reminiscent of the monkey-face
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Ivan raps off the summit
back at camp below the notch, we set off soon enough, stacked w/ sh#t - the sun was getting up, but we rapped into a shady chimney system, inexplicably the subject of some old sadist's route setting - many fun screwy bolts - star drives n' quarter-inchers, many home-made hangers, but all w/ at least one modern bit of brightness
pat takes in the various vistas
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Curry Village on my mind
plenty of fun sh#t to gibber-off on the get-off - here's some old ww2 pins done turned into bolt hangers, just a few raps down, right where those dipshit bastards entered into f*#k-horrible chimney climbing - saws pins left visibly choked in moss, the eyes all green n' grassy
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WWII piton ladder
real near the bottom, married to the pig
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3 days up, 3 hours down
so there we were, on the ground even as the Devil Sun done made the gear so goddamn hot you couldn't even touch it - us boys dove for the manzanita shade n' got good n' gloriously dog-damn deranged even as the swelter set-in proper - we beache-combed along the base n' found my #3, lost who know's when, plus some other random booty, but no windshirt nor rope bag, pat's Little Contribution to the Hall of the Mountain Lords - by 1 we'd made our peace w/ the pain-wand, n' packed up n' set off, determined to have a good old soak in the falls
we neared the falls cutoff, horrid encumbered w/ heavy crap, w/ big weather in the background to threaten all
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Just rain, already
pat got a neat porn-o-rama near the base, searching for his sadly lost shirt
down by the falls it was all-titties, all-the-time - a raging cataract cascading down from more than a thousand feet up - slabs water-slicked n' sonorous for tired feet - i shed my shirt n' shoes n' soul n' set to a good goddamn grub-on - the Mother of All Watering Holes, just feet away from where the tempest touches down!!!
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An afternoon at The Pool. Upper Yosemite Falls.
drug-deranged n' demented good as a devil demands, i slouched up the slabs to stand right below the Big Blast blowing down from above - a hurricane at hand, and what is, exactly, a hero?
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The 1,700' Upper Falls and the Lost Arrow
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Outdoor shower - Upper Yosemite Falls
abused rookers...
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Tvashed
eventually the shade set in and the glory of this grand-ass gob-f*#k glowed away, so we ambled away under crushing packs - down the slabs n' 3rd n' 4th class bits, we encountered yet another example of old-growth manzanita
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Manzanita - the climber's friend
down we were, foot sore n' f*#k-minded, w/ time to get a feed on - goddamn the village buffet - i understand the food was always sh#t n' mammothly over-priced, but at least it was always available in gut-busting amounts - now it's just a couple entrees n' sh#t for hte same old price? whatever, i reckon, but at least change the goddamn name, as its clearly no longer a buffet, no?
i took in a big old bottle n' got grandly shitfaced as pleasant pat made the word-f*#k w/ his little hottie, so far away - once done, we sauntered off to just outside el portal to have a fine old pass out amidst the dust n' bugs
day 9 - a rest day and a day to hope the heat f*#ks off - we go down to the zodiac beach to do a sort - soon enough i get good n' soussed n' have a pass out
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Post send gear sort
much of the rest of the day devoted to getting a true-drunk on (yes, santa-claus did have a homily to heap upon me for this) - big water-clad titties n' the percolating merced made me happy - whoring ducks - daft half-wits - fried spam n' naps in the sand, then another night sleeping in the dirt
day 10 - our last in the valley - we go to crag on the nose - pat gets whimpy near the top of p1, then i short-fix p2 - linking p3, i take a shitty fall when an offset cam pulls and i go crashing down 20 feet, decking heel-first on a ledge along the way, bruising that bitch good n' proper and no doubt to be remembered every morning from here 'till january
hurt n' humbled, i watch as pat gets unhappy again on p4, unable to reach a critical clip, so we just bail strait down from there, ending up at a horrid rap-anchor along the way - more fun when the ropes get stuck on the final pull and i have to climb back up w/ a belay to get it all back to rights
the reality of a raging sun all too clear, this night we resolve to get the f*#k out of the valley - the evening's not quite done, so we boulder by the rostrum, then twiddle our thumbs until Brum Hilda at the entrance station goes home so we can avoid paying the 20$ to have legally entered the valley in the first place
day 11 - wake up this morning on the cusp of a field stretching to the horizons, full of peppers n' corn n' what-not, mexicans in trucks glowering at us passed out in 3 feet of dust - arrive in sonoma to hangout w/ pat's people in their ancestral demesne - eggs n' bagels - the heat of the day in the pool w/ red-heads - a final gear sort - pat climbs a tree w/ a Known Foreigner - a damn fine dinner of tri-tip n' vegetables n' sh#t, but my booze gives out and i begin the Big Sweat - drive-way pass out under an english walnut, birds chirping n' bugs buzzing
day 12 - pat sleeps in for hours as i make the small talk w/ a clan less cluster-f*#ked then me own - eventually he rises n' we cast off, leaving his brudder still crooning honky-tonk tunes at the drop of a hat to the good of us all - a visit w/ the gallagher matriarch - gobs of fresh oranges - houses in the hills w' secret doors n' hidden herbs - the crack in the scrub-mountains we manage our way through, red devil growling and glowing in the heat - the single cigarette an hour plan put to the test - the dream of in'n'out pissed upon - night upon us - the sleep of impending death - eventually it's the final turn, and we glide into vantucky at the cusp of the next day - i crawl into bed w/ a naked lady and know such lovely things
to summer and the death of fun!
Gear Notes:
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Lost Arrow reading list
our recommended gear:
X3 #2 to #4
X2 #5, #1-.75, orange tcu down to yellow
X1 #6, 0 n' 00 tcu
1 complete set of off-set cams, from smallest to largest - more if'n you'll want to leave some behind occasionally
1 cliff-hanger n 1 talon hook
1 set off-set nuts
the smallest micro-nut
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What we actually used
a bit of booty n' exactly the one required for the crux of p9
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The Key to Valhalla - and P9
