Hyperspace
Date: June 23rd 2003.
Sent to washingtonclimbers@yahoogroups.com.
By Kristian Andaker
Alex, Eddy and I had quite an adventure this weekend. We had planned to go climb 'Hyperspace', an 8 or 9 pitch trad route on Snow Creek Wall in Leavenworth, close to Orbit and Outer Space. We left Redmond at 7am, anticipating to get done with the climb around 7pm, just in time for dinner at some restaurant in Leavenworth. It turns out we got a bit more than we bargained for.
After leaving, driving away from the Seattle rain to arrive in sunny Leavenworth, hiking out to the route, walking across the log to cross the stream and saying HI to the mountain goats; we took off. To get to Hyperspace (5.10d chimney) on the upper part of the wall, you can start off with a few different routes below. We picked the 5.9 route Galaxy. None of us had climbed either route before.
The guide book is a little unclear about exactly where Galaxy goes, but following the topology pictures, we had soon gotten three pitches up. Alex had led the last pitch and sitting at the tree anchor he had set, he felt we might be going the wrong way. Looking at the shrubbery in the cracks above Alex, Eddy and I agreed that setting an anchor a little more to the right felt better. So, we turned to the right.
We are still unclear as to whether this is where we first took a wrong turn, but we definitely know we got it wrong somewhere. Alex figures the first wrong turn we took on this day-turned-epic was when we pulled into Icicle Creek Road to start with.
After our shift to the right, we were encouraged by running into a bolt anchor. However, that encouragement was soon replaced by doubt as we realized we were lost. Alex was leading the pitch up from the bolt anchor, when he ran into an area that couldn't possibly be part of our route. A difficult to protect, very smooth dihedral was stretching above him and he was forced to make the first nut-sacrifice of the day to get down to the anchor again. That lost nut would get plenty of companions left on the wall before we were done.
After realizing me must be off course we considered our options. It was about 1.30pm and since we couldn't figure out how the route really went, Eddy and I were leaning towards bailing, being the quitters that we are :). We figured we'd be able to find rappel stations going down without having to sacrifice much gear by leaving anchors or slings behind. But Alex was anxious to get to do that 5.10d chimney and he had an idea of how to at least get upwards, closer to it.
Falling for Alex' enthusiasm, we decided to keep going and Alex went on to create a new pitch (judging from all the moss clearly indicating nobody else ever climbed there) on the wall as we aid climbed over an overhang to get to a chalk line to the right. We believed that chalk line to be part of the route Iconoclast. Once we got there, Alex kept leading/aiding hard stuff as Eddy and I marveled and wondered whether he doesn't feel fear, or whether he's just courageous enough to overcome it.
After doing a pitch of what we guessed was Iconoclast, we were faced with a new choice. To the right there was a traverse with a bolt that we figured might possibly maybe perhaps lead us towards safe old Outer Space where we'd know how to get up and out quickly. But the climb we were now on kept going straight up to what looked to be Hyperspace. (Looking up information on Iconoclast now indeed confirms that we could have reached safe, simple, old Outer Space via that traverse with a bolt to the right).
With the uncertainty of where the right traverse would take us, we ended up going straight up. Eddy led the next pitch, dealing with a 10c crux (not to be laughed at on trad) and getting the first feel of chimney climbing.
By the time Alex, Eddy and I were gathered at the next anchor with a ledge big enough to seat one person semi-comfortably, it first dawned on us that we may be in over our heads. So far we had gotten off route a few times, had to back-track a little, run into sections we had to aid climb (which takes a lot more time than free climbing) and still weren't 100% sure of where we were. But now, as the clock showed 6pm, we realized that we would only have three hours of sunlight left, and we still weren't sure where we were going to go to reach the top.
We figured we had two options, the finish of Galaxy going off to the left, with fairly easy 5.9 climbing, and Hyperspace straight up with the 5.10d chimney. Given the late hour we opted for the safer option: to the left.
But as Alex got some 100 feet up on the route we thought we had to our left, we realized there was no climbable route there. After back-tracking and huddling around the anchor by the small ledge again we decided to keep going straight up. Since it was now 7pm, the idea of emergency-bivouacking on the wall once darkness came occurred to us. Given that the wall above us looked like it wouldn't provide any ledges by the anchors, we figured the anchor we were at would be the best place to sleep in case we couldn't finish this thing before dark. Since the pitches above us looked pretty heinous, this started to seem like a more and more likely alternative, no matter how unappealing the idea of sleeping hanging in a normal harness that is restricting your blood flow with too little clothes in strong wind is.
But we still had two hours of daylight left to work with, and Alex started off straight up. By now it was all aid climbing, making the pitches take more time since more gear needs to be placed, and making the pitches a lot shorter since you quickly run out of gear. Alex soon ended his pitch with an anchor after almost all the cams and nuts were placed. We kept aiding our way up slowly, turning every free climbing pitch into 2-3 aid pitches. We were looking at the opposite wall of the canyon as the sunlit portion of it got smaller and smaller. Night was coming.
As the headlamps went on, the pitches also got harder. The only clear way we could see up was Hyperspace, and it turned out to be a very hard 5.10d chimney. As we ran into the first chimney crux section, Alex became our designated aid climb leader. We were pulling on quick draws like there was no tomorrow: and it was still hard climbing. Hanging on the wall, belaying or just waiting by an anchor, with only the circle of light lit up by your head lamp is an eerie feeling. The only thing you can hear is the river below and the wind. Looking down, all you see is black void. Looking up, a few stars break the otherwise complete bubble of darkness surrounding you. Getting stuck on a wall at night may have its disadvantages (cold, windy, running out of water and snacks, not seeing where the route goes, not seeing your foot and hand holds, worrying about falling asleep while belaying, ...), but it is hard to match that feeling of serene solitude.
Alex cleared us through the chimney crux, and then we got a short breather on an easier section up to a huge roof looming over our heads as we set an anchor right below it. We were debating how to get over the roof, and settled on trying a crack at the other end of it. We were now getting our spirits up even though the clock was showing 2am. After having turned the anticipated 9 pitches into at least 14 with all the aid climbing, how far could it be left?
It was amazing to watch Alex pull that roof on aid and that was probably the 10th time I wished somebody had brought a camera. Seeing it at night, it felt impossible that anyone could ever pull that roof free climbing. After the roof, it was all easy going to the top. As Alex and I sat on the top belaying Eddy up the last pitch, we could see the sunrise growing over the shattered lights outlining Leavenworth below. It was 3.15am when we were all up, smiling and laughing as our worries dissipated.
The walk off and the hike out went by fast on tired legs. We got a ticket for not having the forest pass appropriately displayed on the car, and then split the drive home up in 40 minute segments to try to avoid having anyone fall asleep behind the wheel.
Climbing and hiking non-stop from 9am to 6.20am turns out to be quite an ordeal. As we got home roughly 25 hours after we left: we crashed. In retrospect, it feels like a great adventure. But sitting there on the wall belaying at 2am in pitch darkness, not knowing whether we were on the right path to top out, feeling cold with wind howling, with sore feet from tight climbing shoes and legs going numb from hanging in the harness, thinking about rationing the water and food and wondering if a forced bivouac would end up being necessary, it wasn't exactly a great experience. One has to ask oneself: why do we do these things? Are we crazy?
I wish you all a life where night-climbing occurs only when you expect it,
/K
PS. Sorry from Alex for missing the Sunday tennis, from Eddy for missing the Sunday Index aid climbing and from me for missing the Sunday Lake Serene hike; but we really need some sleep today.