Returned from Indian Creek
Jun. 22nd, 2009 01:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
miss_montroseI busted out of town for a weekend of climbing with my best friend. We just rolled back into town around midnight last night. The weekend was divine...
My favorite climbing destination, Indian Creek, in the Southern Utah desert, is usually scorching hot at this time of year, so climbers abandon it in favor of cooler, northern destinations. But this weekend, stormy weather all throughout the Rockies made for an interesting twist: The only place forecast to be dry? Indian Creek. The predicted temperatures? Mild. At the summer solstice no less.
To our surprise, we arrived to find not a single other car in the lot. Usually, you're cursing someone for parking inefficiently. This picture gives a nice idea of the scale of the buttresses. You're seeing the bottom quarter of climbable rock at the top of the photo.
We packed the gear and humped it (yeah, that's the term we climbers use ; ) up the scree cone to the base of the rock.
Lizzie, my best friend, is a vegetarian, environmental lawyer, Search-and-Rescue-dog-training, colorful-accessory-loving, facial-splurging, concert-ticket-hoarding, extroverted, bundle of energy. And her beloved dog Moxie, who lost an ear to cancer.
I know some consider rappelling a sport in its own right, but for rock climbers, it's simply the way to get back down to your pack after climbing so you can finally chow some tasty snacks. Lizzie is rappelling back down the Cave Route here. It's a splitter crack in a right-facing corner. The cave is located behind a detached flake of rock which sheared off the main buttress. You can see the light streaming in through the 'doorway'.
While the toprope was up, I decided to try a little chimneying in the doorway, which wouldn't have protected well on lead; there's no gear to plug into something that wide.
We camped on Bridger Jack Road. This is the Bridger Jack Buttress. There are routes up many of the different towers. It's hard to see from this distance, but the tower which looks like a chess man with a round head is called King of Pain. Upon closer view, he looks like he's smiling -- wryly.
The sky unleashed Saturday night, pounding rain against the shell of my truck. Thunder and lightning played backup instruments. Lounging around camp waiting for the rocks to dry the next morning wasn't all bad. Besides, you know the previous day was strenuous when the dogs are still sideways come morning. And don't worry, they got to sleep in the truck too. Pansies.
Well, my dog wasn't sideways. He was still searching for lizards behind the luggage:
Swiveling 45degrees in my chair, the rest of the view looked like this:
Oh, and that's not my coffee. I didn't caffeinate all weekend. Lizzie made up for it by drinking the whole pot herself.
The view, on closer inspection. Supposedly, you can find Indian arrowheads atop that little lower mesa:
I'm feeling very happy today, but I'm also behind on everything. Bear with me while I bail myself out.
Received corrections back from my beta this morning. Truck is not unpacked yet. A shoe test report is due. And tomorrow, I go back to designing a kitchen full swing (client has now changed his mind for the 4th time). One thing at a time...
If you want to read more about the history of the Indian Creek corridor, I once wrote it up here, complete with slideshow.
À toute à l’heure!
My favorite climbing destination, Indian Creek, in the Southern Utah desert, is usually scorching hot at this time of year, so climbers abandon it in favor of cooler, northern destinations. But this weekend, stormy weather all throughout the Rockies made for an interesting twist: The only place forecast to be dry? Indian Creek. The predicted temperatures? Mild. At the summer solstice no less.
To our surprise, we arrived to find not a single other car in the lot. Usually, you're cursing someone for parking inefficiently. This picture gives a nice idea of the scale of the buttresses. You're seeing the bottom quarter of climbable rock at the top of the photo.
We packed the gear and humped it (yeah, that's the term we climbers use ; ) up the scree cone to the base of the rock.
Lizzie, my best friend, is a vegetarian, environmental lawyer, Search-and-Rescue-dog-training, colorful-accessory-loving, facial-splurging, concert-ticket-hoarding, extroverted, bundle of energy. And her beloved dog Moxie, who lost an ear to cancer.
I know some consider rappelling a sport in its own right, but for rock climbers, it's simply the way to get back down to your pack after climbing so you can finally chow some tasty snacks. Lizzie is rappelling back down the Cave Route here. It's a splitter crack in a right-facing corner. The cave is located behind a detached flake of rock which sheared off the main buttress. You can see the light streaming in through the 'doorway'.
While the toprope was up, I decided to try a little chimneying in the doorway, which wouldn't have protected well on lead; there's no gear to plug into something that wide.
We camped on Bridger Jack Road. This is the Bridger Jack Buttress. There are routes up many of the different towers. It's hard to see from this distance, but the tower which looks like a chess man with a round head is called King of Pain. Upon closer view, he looks like he's smiling -- wryly.
The sky unleashed Saturday night, pounding rain against the shell of my truck. Thunder and lightning played backup instruments. Lounging around camp waiting for the rocks to dry the next morning wasn't all bad. Besides, you know the previous day was strenuous when the dogs are still sideways come morning. And don't worry, they got to sleep in the truck too. Pansies.
Well, my dog wasn't sideways. He was still searching for lizards behind the luggage:
Swiveling 45degrees in my chair, the rest of the view looked like this:
Oh, and that's not my coffee. I didn't caffeinate all weekend. Lizzie made up for it by drinking the whole pot herself.
The view, on closer inspection. Supposedly, you can find Indian arrowheads atop that little lower mesa:
I'm feeling very happy today, but I'm also behind on everything. Bear with me while I bail myself out.
Received corrections back from my beta this morning. Truck is not unpacked yet. A shoe test report is due. And tomorrow, I go back to designing a kitchen full swing (client has now changed his mind for the 4th time). One thing at a time...
If you want to read more about the history of the Indian Creek corridor, I once wrote it up here, complete with slideshow.
À toute à l’heure!
Oh wow...
Date: 2009-06-23 09:40 am (UTC)The scale of everything--it looks wonderful in those glossy shots you see in books and so on but there's no human scale for you to blink at and say, oh, my, God! I want to bombard you with questions but I shall give you breathing space; I imagine it takes a while to come back down after such an experience. I do see why you have a preference for warm colours, though; it's related to places that--what was it again?-- 'breathes warm air into your soul'.
This may seem an odd comment to you but the weathered stacks look so strange to my eye, almost alien. Almost how I imagine a terraformed Mars would look; the sandstone has the red cast one expects of the Red Planet. There is an awe-some quality about it though that invites spiritual experience. I begin to see why ascetics have repaired unto the desert throughout history.
I keep scrolling back and forth and just staring. Give 'Pollo some ear ruffles from me. Moxie looks a sweetheart too. (Can you tell I'm a sucker for dogs? ;) ) Lizzie looks like a very cool, fun gal. No surprises there--like attracts like!
Bail away, ma chiéthe. I'm doing a spot of bailing myself so it's all good. ;)
The only other comment I shall make is that Marcus has gone to tell Jimce about the fabulous new climbing spot he's seen, and ask how the devil does one arrange an International Portkey... *runs away laughing*
Re: Oh wow...
Date: 2009-06-24 10:33 pm (UTC)I want to bombard you with questions but I shall give you breathing space
Bombard away! : )
Yes, I can see the alien analogy.
I'm more on the quiet side myself: Introvert among strangers, extrovert among friends sort of thing.
Speechless, huh? This is one of my absolute favorite places, so I'm glad you like it... : D
Re: Oh wow...
Date: 2009-06-25 09:12 am (UTC)Thankies! :D Bombardment commencing: how high is that scree slope before you get to rock? How much climbable rock is there, if the photo showed a quarter of it, and how long did it take you to climb? Why is the rest unclimbable? What does it smell like there? Is the sand very drying on the hands and skin generally, is it gritty, or smooth, like beach sand? I presume one digs a hole for the privy? (As I said, Curiousⁿ: ) )
How windy is it? Are there any birds? Other than rock art have you ever found any ancient remains/artefacts? I think that'd better be it or you'll think I'm a mad woman. ;)
Re: Oh wow...
Date: 2009-06-25 09:47 pm (UTC)I'd have a blast weighing in on Marcus & Jimce's climbing ventures. Bring it. ; )
Like most climbers, I tend to judge everything in rope lengths (about 200 ft). 70m ropes are common nowadays = 210 feet (as opposed to the 50's and 60 m's of yesteryear). If you climb 100' to the anchors, you've used about half and have just enough left to lower back down to the ground. The average route is around 100' long for that reason.
The scree cones vary from buttress to buttress; they're usually around 400 feet. The rock buttresses are about the same height as the scree--nah, a little less. Usually two to three pitches of climbing will get you to the 'top' of the buttress.
But this is considered a 'cragging' location, so usually you only do the first pitch and move on. There are many reasons for this: 1) While the first pitch may be stellar in quality, the second may be lackluster... Better to just move on to another excellent route nearby, in that case. There are exceptions, of course, where all pitches are must-do's. 2) The rock quality at the very top can be sandy or a different composition (not Wingate). 3) The two pitches may be vastly different in level of difficulty: P1 may be doable, but P2 might be 'hardman', outside of your personal limits.
Very few routes truly top out here. These are not 'towers' in the sense that standing on top holds big allure.
If you're moving efficiently, about 30 minutes is reasonable to lead a pitch. An hour is not unheard of if you're 'sketchin'. ; )
Smells? Sand, sage, wind, chalky hands, tape, sweat, dry grasses blowing in the breeze.
The sand will abrade your skin right off, like sandpaper, until you bleed. I have scars. There's a hardman edict that you shouldn't tape your hands ('it's aid!'), but this is quite controversial. I know hardmen who tape and hardmen who don't. I'm not that hard--I tape. Friends of mine, untaped. Those two were my 'rope guns' while I was learning to lead splitter on my own.
I presume one digs a hole for the privy? bury waste, burn paper (or pack it out); alternately, a wag bag. There's one outhouse near the main camp area now, to keep things under control.
How windy is it? It can turn into a veritable dust storm, blowing away your tent if it's not staked down and kicking sand in your eyes and teeth. Been there, seen that. ; )
Are there any birds? Yup, some of them have nests in the rock, like rock wrens. Rattlers, lizards, mice, squirrels, wild turkeys, birds of prey, deer, coyotes...
Other than rock art have you ever found any ancient remains/artefacts? prayer circles, shelters, graineries. I haven't personally found any arrowheads or pottery, but it happens.
Ça suffit? You're welcome to keep shooting. ; D