Build My Own FeedBD athlete Brittany Griffith writes about climbing Primrose Dihedrals on Moses in Canyonlands National Park
Black Diamond athlete Brittany Griffith spent numerous weekends this spring climbing in the desert surrounding Moab, Utah (as she does most spring and fall). The highlight of her spring desert season was an ascent of the mega-classic Primrose Dihedrals on Moses. Below is a story she wrote about the climb along with some photos.
“How hard is it?” I asked the photographer John Burcham who wanted me to climb Primrose Dihedral on the Canyonlands’ 450-foot Moses spire for a Rock and Ice photo essay.
“Sumthin’ like 5.11,” he said in his North Carolina drawl.
Now, we all know that grades are relative and that 5.11 could be someone’s lifelong project or someone else could hike 5.11 in flipflops with a raging hangover. I’m somewhere in the middle and at the time considered 5.11 as a warm-up. So I agreed to the shoot without anxiety. This was more than 10 years ago and I was pretty much exclusively sport climbing. But, I had climbed a 5.11 crack before at Smith Rock, so figured I was fully capable of climbing this Primrose Dihedral.
We arrived in Moab and stopped by the gear store. John found a picture of Moses in one of the guidebooks. I took a peek and my eyes widened. THAT looked scary.
“That looks…cool” I mumbled and attempted to fake enthusiasm.
John stroked a brand new Black Diamond #4 Camalot like it was a puppy. I thought it looked like a terrifying torture device and had no interest in touching it. He tried to hand it to me and I backed away like he was handing me a rattlesnake.
“You’ve placed these before, right?” He seemed to only half mock.
“Of course” I looked down and right, blatantly lying. I mentally flipped through the catalog of cracks I had done. My first lead, but that was a finger crack. A 5.8 at Vedauvoo, but I think I followed that. Oh, of course, the .12c crack on Monkey Face! So what if the gear was pre-placed… big deal. It was .12c and this climb was only 5.11. But why then did I feel so inadequate? The super cool goateed climber dude behind the counter (a young Eric Decaria, who happens to be a good friend of mine now) snickered, “You are going to climb Moses?” I smiled smugly, thinking he must have recognized me from a Prana ad. Oh, wait, that was a dis.
“Whhh, aaah, yee-ah” I stammered. Does he have any idea that I’m, like, sponsored? That I get free shoes and chalk bags?
As we left the store, I noticed big white cumulus clouds forming. I silently prayed that it would unleash a monstrous amount of rain and continue to rain for the next week so that I could go right back home and not get anywhere near Moses.
Which is exactly what happened.
Fast forward to April 1, 2010.
“Let’s go do Primrose Dihedral this weekend,” My husband suggested.
“That’s a joke, right?” I asked—we’d already done Moses (both figuratively and literally).
“Yes, but Pale Fire isn’t at all classic... Primrose is the way to do it,” he enthused.
Just the word Primrose evoked terror in me. My fears were somewhat unjustified now. I had a fat resume of tower climbs not only in the US but also abroad on the über scary towers of Adarspach, Czech Rebuplic. I had climbed 100’s of pitches at Indian Creek, succeeded on long, hard free routes in Zion and free climbed on El Cap. Didn’t matter… I was still worried.
“Why don’t we go sport climbing in American Fork?” I chirped. It was in vain, however, Jonathan usually got his way and most of the time I was happy that he did.
Despite my apprehensions, on Friday I found myself packing the truck with cams, (yes, the big ones, too), helmets, slings, tag line, nut tool, free biners, Chaos harnesses and ATC Guides. Trad climbing can be such a hassle, but throughout the years I’ve truly come to relish the rewards and appreciate the spectacular wild places to where it takes you.
I sat forward in my seat as the trucked bumped down the rough road. I was anxious for the first glimpse of Moses and the surrounding towers.
“There he is!” Yes, Moses still stood, in silent reverence, beckoning me to come play for yet another day. But this time it was for real, I ominously thought. Come on, it’s only 5.11! Where had I heard that before?
“Ya know, since I have lead all the pitches before, I really think you should get to lead the cruxy first pitch and theThe Ear pitch, too,” My beloved husband so graciously suggested as we hiked to the base early Saturday morning. “I really want you to have that experience.”
“Oh no, baby, I don’t want to be greedy. It’s just as important for me that you have fun, too. No, really, I don’t need to lead both the hard pitches!” The first pitch was meant to be a boulder problem, which didn’t intimidate me nearly as much as the dreaded Ear Pitch.
“Isn’t the Ear pitch the one you took a huge whipper on?” I said
“Yeah, it was AWESOME!” It really irritates me when Jonathan equates danger with awesome-ness.
We got to the base and I got my first look at Primrose Dihedral.
“Where’s the crux on the first pitch?” I looked up but saw only 20 feet of big white jugs, then some choss.
JT delicately explained that although it looked benign, the crux was actually 10 feet off the ground.
“Well, it looks piss.” What was I worried about all these years?
He stood back from the tower, “Look, you can see The Ear.” I wanted nothing to do with that, so before I could change my mind, I started racking up.
I racked that notorious #4 Camalot right up front, since I knew it would be the third piece of gear I’d place. I fastidiously put the rest of my gear on my harness, trying to ignore the presence of an early morning Moses.
Well, goddamn, I got 10 feet off the ground and guess what? Despite my super stoker intentions and positive attitude, those were NOT jugs I saw from the ground. Cruel jokes were those holds. So much chalk yet so little surface area. I tried every technique I had acquired after all the years: stemming, drop-kneeing, crimping… hell, I even tried chimney-ing with my head. After much grunting, “watch me’s” and several minutes of general all around struggling, woosh, I was off and swinging on the rope, four feet off the ground.
“Lower me.” Ugh.
Jittery, I started up again, and again the same result. WTF?! This was getting annoying! On my third go, much to my dismay, the sequence that Jonathan was gently suggesting worked. I got through the thuggy section, shoved in the #4, then huffed my way to the anchor. I was 30 feet off the ground. Christ.
The next three pitches I dubbed, “Trying Hard on 5.10” Seriously, how does someone rate an overhanging tight hand crack roof with ONE foot hold 5.10 with a clear conscious? Absurd. 
And then, The Ear. Ninety feet of 5.9 nutting led to a big bully giant flake. Adding insult to injury, it was bolted. Leading the unsuspecting leader into thinking that this was a sport climb. Piece of cake, right? Bolted 5.11… no problem. Oh, there was a problem all right. First, I got my head stuck behind the flake and was turned the wrong way. Then, BOTH feet popped and the only thing keeping me from weighting the rope was my wedged chest. Then, the rope got pinched between my thigh and the face, disabling me from pulling rope to clip. This was all before the second bolt. I managed to clip three more bolts, however, the closer I got to the top of the ladder, the smaller the footholds became. I placed my right foot on a dangerously sandy, ever so slightly discernable scoop of an indention. My leg trembled… no, it violently shook. I was NOT going to fall now. I was going to do this god forsaken route if it killed me.
“Come on, Brittany, you got it!” Oh no, Jonathan addressed me by my name, he only does that when things are serious or he’s annoyed with me (he normally uses endearing little nicknames). Abandoning any composure I had left, I kicked, clawed and cried my way onto the belay ledge. I know what you’re thinking, “it’s 5-f&#king-11”, what’s your problem?
All I can say is, go check it out for yourself. It’s a grovel-fest.
It was really windy on top and ominous dark clouds surrounded the summit. Instead of panicking, I looked down at our tiny white truck and smiled as I thought of the cold Pabst and warm sleeping bags in the back. As Jonathan’s spirited face emerged above the edge with an expression that only comes from being in the desert, I thought, with complete conviction, totally worth it.
United States / English 
3 Jun 2010, 4:17PM
Great trip report! Hmm, I've climbed a 5.11 crack before, I think I'm staying away from this one ;)
19 May 2010, 9:56AM
don't forget your chapstick
12 May 2010, 11:57AM
Loved the article. I could feel your fear. Gotta visit that place some time.
11 May 2010, 7:07PM
I'm with Doug. That was f%*king awesome.
11 May 2010, 2:14PM
ooohhhhh....i want to come back!!!!!!!!!!!
10 May 2010, 5:44PM
The most honest "TR" I have ever read. F!k!N hilarious!
10 May 2010, 5:13PM
Sweet sweet. There's nothing like the sand in the desert. May as well bag it.
Shoot. I was feeling like the 5.8 North Chimney on Castleton was pretty stiff this last weekend.
Great climb!