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The Talisman Goes Down

The satisfied abseiler post-successful round of battle with The Talisman (WI5+ M6 R).

Here are a few things I can tell you about The Talisman: It’s one of the best lines around Ouray. It’s got a reputation for being pretty hard, and I can confirm that it is, in fact, kinda hard, especially when it’s out of condition like it is this year. And it’s better to climb it when it’s not covered with snow, because it’s even harder when you can’t find the holds. Oh, and you don’t want to fall off the first pitch if there’s no ice, because the gear is total shite. It’s also more satisfying to succeed on it than to fail. Sometimes that takes two tries. And you should take skis for the approach, because spending a few hours wallowing in head high snow will leave you worked by the time you get to the climb, which is not ideal. And go after it with someone you like, because it’ll probably be a memorable experience. Or two.

The terrifying M6 R/X pitch one of the first go.

On the first try, The Talisman sent us packing after almost all of the crux action was done. The first pitch took nearly two and a half hours to lead and was a difficult mix of unprotected, snow-covered, sketchy terrain. Though the difficulty was only about 5.6 or 5.7, the climbing was extremely heady and rather dangerous. The opening slab led to a positive, but steep, loose M6 corner, which in turn led to another snow-covered slab. That gave way to unprotectable thin ice, before finally relenting at a thicker, but still brittle and scary pillar to the belay. With almost all of the ice on the climb having formed in December, it had a spooky, brittle quality to it, which made for a lot of fracturing on the swing and some rather questionable screws.

Geoff lights it up on the second pitch on our first attempt

The second pitch takes on some steep ice and awkward handjamming and stemming through an M6 corner, then a traverse out over a roof before taking on another steep, mixed corner with a thin WI5 pillar to boot. A rad pitch and a stout lead by Geoff.

Myself getting to the belay on the second pitch.

Then I started up the next pitch, the third and what would be the last for us that day. Intimidated by WI5+ crux pitch’s blind corner, marginal rock gear, and dubious screws in detached, brittle ice, I backed off. Thirty feet up and ten feet away from the game being over, I came down. Having already pretty much cashed myself out on the first pitch, I just lost the mental battle and couldn’t talk myself into turning the corner. Geoff, having had a rough day himself (we were both actually pretty sick and doing a great job being mucus factories) declined to take the lead, and we set about building the v-thread to commence running away.

Geoff captures the spirit of our retreat with a little "F*cka you dolphin!"After watching an episode of South Park wherein Japanese fishermen routinely annihilate populations of dolphins and whales in retaliation for dropping the bomb on Hiroshima (South Park, right?), we adopted their cries of "F*CKA YOU DOLPHIN!!!" and "F*CKA YOU WHALE!!!" to express our frustration. Here Geoff gives the dolphin to The Talisman.

In the days after our failure, we succumbed to our colds and did a lot of coughing, spitting and whining, as well as a lot of talking about the Talisman. My calves were sore for almost a week from the first lead. Then, as they always do, circumstances conspired to keep us from getting back for the next round. Lots of guiding, the winter OR Show, climbing in Provo, copious admin, Certified Guides Coop business, etc. etc. etc.

With Geoff set to take off to France for the next nine months and his head spinning with preparations, I had to be persistent in nagging him to get back out there for another round. Every time I mentioned it, Geoff halfway tried to tell me we weren’t going, but at the same time left the door open wide enough for me to jam my cramponed foot in. We’ll take skis next time, I’d say. And pins. Yeah. And we won’t be sick. You know you want to. Plus you can lead the first pitch.

In the end, I won. Yesterday we had our rematch, and it was a great day out. This time we corrected our mistakes – we got out of the house earlier, we took skis and pins, and we didn’t take chests full of phlegm. And as luck would have it, the climb went smoothly and both of us agreed in the end that it really didn’t feel all that hard after all. This time we traded a two and a half hour wallow-fest approach (replete with me literally falling through the sugary snow until it was even with my head) for a quick hour and a bit on skis. This time Geoff led the first pitch and took a variation on the right which avoided the steep corner and kept the technical difficulties at around 5.6 and M4-5 up to the WI5- ice. The new way was easier technically but no less terrifying, even with the advantage of three decent pegs.

Geoff works out the right hand variation on the second go.

This time I got to take the second pitch, which was much the same but perhaps a bit more anorexic than when we did it the last time. Great climbing took us up to the belay that became our highpoint on the first round. As I belayed Geoff up and observed the snowstorm that now enveloped the valley, I mulled over the question of who should lead the next pitch. Technically speaking, it was Geoff’s lead as we were swapping pitches. But in a way I kept thinking that it should be mine, as it was my dragon to slay, my demon to exorcise after backing off last time. I tried hard to figure out how I felt about it, and in the end I think I honestly concluded that when Geoff asked me what I thought, I could say I didn’t care. At that point I knew we were going to make it to the top. Despite having been a spectre in my imagination for weeks, the day’s tone had switched from a mission to just a fun day out in the mountains. When Geoff reached the belay and asked, I gave my answer. I really don’t care, I’m just stoked to be climbing.

A keener himself, Geoff naturally took the lead and said if he was feeling good, he’d combine the last two pitches and take it to the top. Thinking about this, I again began asking questions of myself. How I would feel if I didn’t get on lead again, if Geoff led more than I did? Again came to the conclusion that I really didn’t care. One way or another, I would climb the pitches and they would be fun so who gives a shit. If he stopped, I’d get to lead again, and if he didn’t, then we’d be at the top. Great stuff either way. Plus it was dumping.

Heading up through the mixed terrain of P2 on the successful go.

Geoff fired the pitch and as the rope kept snaking through my belay device, I realized he must be taking it to the top. Though it was steep and technical, neither of us had any problem with it and agreed that despite not wanting to take a fall on any of the screws, it was great climbing. As we pounded fists and got ready to rap into the falling snow, we couldn’t help but letting out a slightly different “F*cka you dolphin!” – this one a little more satisfied. “F*cka you whale!” No more Moby Dick, I’m going to need a new obsession. Luckily around here they’re not that hard to find.

A more satisfied version of the "F*cka you whale!!!"

For a complete set of photos from the climbs, check out the collections here.

Success on a Guided Liberty Crack w/ NCMG

Annie feeling the love from the spires at the top of Liberty Crack on a perfect Washington Pass day.

The third time must be the charm! I’ve gotten up the route just fine both times before (see last year’s Liberty Crack: Then & Now) but just a couple of weeks ago I had the opportunity to guide the climb for North Cascades Mountain Guides with a super strong guest from Pennsylvania and it couldn’t have gone more smoothly. We had a great two days out there, fixing lines the first and blasting off the second. We made it car to car in about twelve hours and knocked off a classic: Liberty Crack (V 5.10 C2), 12 pitches, Liberty Bell Spire, Washington Pass, WA. Classic indeed.

A complete photoset of the adventure is up here.

Finally!

My buddy Mike Pond and I finally got around to climbing it. “It” still doesn’t have a name, but it’s a new route – sort of. We climbed a version of it last year, then we went back and scrubbed and cleaned and bolted and made what we thought would be a pretty kick-ass version of it, and then it started raining. And then a year when by, and then just last week we actually got to get out there and climb the thing, and as it turns out, it does kick ass. The timing was pretty kick-ass too, as we climbed on a Wednesday and on Saturday Mike took off to Ohio to start grad school. I wouldn’t have wanted to wait another year.

In case you’re ever around Washington Pass and want to go climb it, you can check out more photos of the wall and get an idea of where it is here, and here’s the beta:

Wright / Pond, 5.11a/b, 4 pitches

Rack: Double rack to 3″, emphasis on smaller cams and wires. RPs useful.

Approach: Turn off Hwy 20 app. 4.5 miles east of Washington Pass following signs for the Cutthroat Creek Trail. Drive about a mile down the road to a trailhead parking with a bathroom on the left side of the road. Walk up through the woods (no trail) towards the wall, gaining elevation quickly before traversing leftwards in open forest and on slabby benches. You should reach a shoulder near the base of the wall’s right-hand side within an hour to an hour and a half.

Climb: P1 5.11a/b, 55m – Begin by climbing the obvious left-facing arch depicted in the photo above. At its terminus, head directly up gaining a shallow, right-facing corner. Climb this past one bolt to a strenuous pinch at an overlap. Gain the pinch and move left to a stance (crux) below a handsome, right-facing corner to the right of a large roof. Climb left around a flake to gain the corner and climb the corner crack to a bolted belay at a ledge with a small tree. A bold lead.

P2 5.10c/d, 50m – Leave the belay to the left and head up a large flake towards a bolt on a small overlap. Clip the bolt and step right into a clean open book. Stemming and thin fingers lead through the open book and past another bolt to gain a stance. Step right and follow the line of six bolts up the face (crux) on small edges and pockets. Step left past the last bolt to a clean, shallow, right-facing corner. Follow the corner to another bolted belay.

P3 5.10a, 50m – Head up the obvious right-facing corner (mostly fingers) until it closes out. Work the corner and face past one bolt until a small roof. Pull left past the roof into left-facing corner crack. Climb the crack up and left before another crack trends slightly rightward. Jam fingers and hands to its finish and climb a short, easy slab up and right to a treed ledge and another bolted belay at the base of a left facing corner/chimney.

P4 5.8, 45m – Climb the blocky corner/chimney up past a tree until you gain a low-angled slab. Head left across the slab to a wide hand and fist crack hidden in a left-facing corner. Exit the corner up and right on blocky but easy ground to low-angled ledges. A tree with rappel slings is on the left.

Descent: Rap the route in four double-rope rappels.