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When
I'm Sixty-Four Michael
Kennedy
Thank
God Hayden is leading. We’re on the 17th
pitch of the day, the sun is about to kiss the
horizon, and I’m beat. Big Sandy is just
out of sight and I sure don’t want to sleep
here.
My
mind drifts back two-and-a-half years to Castleton
Tower, the first big multi-pitch climb we do together.
I’m terrified cleaning a
5.8 pitch he’d led,
grateful he didn’t fall on a couple of the sketchy cams he’d placed.
Of course, I’m the one who whips a little later on Kor’s offwidth,
thankfully onto a beefy replacement for the original Star Drive. He struggles
a bit on a top rope and admits the pitch is “a little tough.” I’m
still a nervous wreck on top, worried about the rappels, but Hayden takes it
all in stride. “What’s the big deal, Dad?”
Now
we’re
on Half Dome and I wish I could say the same to him. I’m
way more timid than he is on the lead, and except for a few pointers on rope
management I’m no longer able to offer much advice. He’d just
as soon French-free past the aid sections—etriers take too long—and
I gladly let him do the bulk of the leading. He flies up the rest of the
pitch, fixes the rope, and hauls the bag. I flop onto the ledge with only
a few minutes of dusk left, and congratulate Hayden for arriving at his first
big wall bivouac with light to spare.
The
next morning we’re up early.
It’s my lead, a good old-fashioned
A1 pitch. Halfway up I place my first-ever cam hook, then a bomber stopper,
then another cam hook. These things work pretty well, so I cram another
one into the flaring crack and step up. Ping! I’m off on a 20-footer. “What
are you doing, Dad?”
This
is getting embarrassing. I use another nut to pass
the cam hook section, get to the stance, and make
Hayden lead the rest of the route, except for the
Thank God Ledge pitch, which I somehow whimper
across. The 5.8 offwidth at the end of the traverse
feels like 5.11 and I’m gratified to see
him labor ever so slightly seconding it. A couple
of pitches later we’re basking
in the afternoon sun amidst the hikers.
Hours
later it’s way past
dark and my creaky old knees have just about had it. A headlamp bobs
up the trail. “Can I take your pack, Dad?” Hayden
has run on ahead, dropped his load, and come back to help the old man.
We stumble down the last mile of the trail to the Valley floor together.
It’s pretty
obvious who’s the teacher now.
Michael
Kennedy
Michael
Kennedy worked as editor and publisher of Climbing
magazine for 24 years while pursuing a Masters in
Alpine Climbing at the University of Alaska (with
stints in the classrooms of Patagonia, Nepal, India
and Pakistan). After retiring a few trips short of
a degree, he switched to Recreational Studies (the
art of being a climbing, skiing and paddling bum).
He hopes to complete his course work at City of Rocks
University, Tuolumne Meadows College and various
affiliate campuses within the next decade.
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Putting
it Back Together Ines
Papert
Long,
hard routes in the dolomites are like giant jigsaw
puzzles. The trick is staying motivated and focused
enough to put all the pieces together. At 8 a.m.
we started the first pitch. Nothing like a really
cold start on 7b+ (5.12c). Except for some slight
apprehension, everything went smoothly. Wasti reached
the belay and dealt with the rucksack. There wasn’t
enough room to get comfortable so I tried to climb
the next 7c+ endurance pitch quickly, plus I was
anxious to get to the 8b crux pitch that was waiting
for me above.
Thankfully,
the whole time I heard motivating shouts from Rainer
(above me with his camera) and Wasti (from the
belay below). I got one almost non-existing undercling,
then a Gaston and felt myself starting to fall.
Intuitively I stabbed for a two-finger hold, stabilized
my body then snatched a good flake and kept going… because
it was still rather early to celebrate. With the crux behind me it seemed like
there was all of a sudden more to lose. The initial tension, which was making
me so nervous, was now way gone. What was left was full concentration and absolute
focus on the pitches still ahead.
The
next pitch was very demanding and technical 8a,
on not totally solid rock. But this and the following
7a I led without any major problems. I was only
clipping every second bolt trying not to use up
precious energy. I only clipped what was absolutely
necessary and that for sure didn’t
include any of the downward slanting, ancient
pitons you find in the Dolomites.
The
last hard pitch was the most difficult for me.
A seemingly giant, 8a+ roof with 200 m of thin
air underneath my back. I was completely focusing
on the roof itself as I climbed towards it. Out
of the blue, I found myself hanging on the rope
a few meters lower. A foothold had broken off.
Wasti lowered me down to the last belay. I immediately
started again.
The
roof took all of my remaining energy and tested
my will to hang on and fight till I had nothing
left. I wanted badly to make it, and I did. With
the help of a heel hook I pulled myself around
the lip, snatched a side hold and a sloper and
started to lever up. I was almost stable when I
started to pitch off backwards but was able to
reach a jug which I grabbed like I would never
ever let go of it. “DONE!”… I
was shouting for joy.
Now
came a few easy broken pitches till we gained the
NE ridge (Spigolo Dibona). This was the end of
the actual route, but we decided to climb farther,
as it was only early afternoon. At 6 p.m. we were
finally standing at the top of the Cima Grande
and fully rejoicing over our successful repetition
of one unbelievably beautiful and spectacular route.
Ines
Papert
Ines
Papert knows a thing or two about putting broken
things back together. After a devastating fall on
the South Face of the Marmolada in 2005, she put
her own pieces back together and made this dream
come true. When not pushing her limits on the rock,
Ines is considered one of the top ice climbers in
the world. Raising her son Manu has proven to be
her greatest challenge to date.
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Laurel
Knob
Emerging
from a native hardwood forest in the mountains
of North Carolina is a special piece of rock called
Laurel Knob. It’s a chunk of granite, 1200
feet tall that, stripped of its surrounding deciduous
trees, would look right at home among the domes
of Tuolumne Meadows. It is the tallest crag east
of the Mississippi, and for 30 years has attracted
climbers drawn to the unusual water grooves that
streak the face of the escarpment.
A
mini-guide produced by Carolina
Climbers Coalition describes
routes from 5.8 to 5.11b (and a 5.11bX for those
who like a bit more spice.) Nearly every route
refers to climbing grooves, stepping over grooves,
traversing grooves, or just plain groovin’, in reference to the
rock’s
most prominent features.
For
much of the past 30 years, willingness to trespass
has been an important skill for Laurel Knob climbers.
The rock and 50 acres of forest at its base are
in private hands. With the nearby mountain communities
of Western North Carolina booming as they attract
retirees and second-home owners, volunteers with
the Carolina Climbers Coalition (CCC) recognized
a train wreck on the horizon. How long before
someone used Laurel Knob as the backdrop for a
trophy home? And what are the chances that person
would invite a steady stream of dirtbags to play
on his backyard cliff?
In
2005, CCC volunteer John Myers approached the property’s
owner about selling Laurel Knob. Myers surely braced
himself for an unrealistic asking price, or a flat
rejection. But the stars aligned for Myers and
the CCC. The owner needed cash, and said he’d
accept $250,000 for Laurel Knob and the 50-acre
forest at its base.
The
CCC cobbled together enough funding for a down
payment, and has set about raising the remaining
amount due to complete the purchase. By the time
you read this, ownership of Laurel Knob will likely
rest safely in the hands of climbers.
But,
the work is not done. With ownership comes responsibility.
CCC is working on a land and climbing management
plan for Laurel Knob. The group is committed
to protecting the ecological values of the land,
while providing access to a unique climbing experience.
Managing Laurel Knob will demand time and money
from CCC, and they welcome your support.
The
Laurel Knob story is a happy one because a group
of local people took action to save a place significant
for its climbing opportunities and ecological
values. As climbers, we all have an impact on the
natural landscapes where we climb. It’s important that we give something
back.
John
Sterling
John
Sterling is a climber and Executive Director
of The
Conservation Alliance ,
which contributed $30,000 to the Laurel Knob acquisition.
Get Busy: Support the purchase of Laurel Knob by
the Carolina Climber’s Coalition and see a
mini-guide of the area at their website.
Black Diamond is proud to support access for climbers
and the protection of climbing areas.
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