Forlorn Desperation

A soggy warm front has bullied its way into the North East and Old Man Winter is retreating.  Weekend temps nearly reached the 50’s and likely wreaked havoc on ice as far north as the Adirondacks.  On Saturday I decided to revisit the “New Year Wall”, and this time with equipment and a partner.  We consented to a late start, and I was under the impression this would be to our benefit as the forecasters were calling for afternoon sun.  But when we arrived at the cliff around 1:30, the mountain was blanketed in layers of fog and the sun was behind a wall of gray.  The approach was a little more difficult this time without the snow pack and now with the weight of a full climbing pack on while roving through the unkempt bush and scattered boulders.  We saw a small coyote scrambling across the wet ledges and I shouted to scare him (or any of his friends) away.  Along the under cliff, wild thorn branches were now freed from their snowy graves and ruthlessly defended the rock.  All these things harbinger just how wild and unexplored this mountain truly is.    

I remember the New Year Wall having two distinct weaknesses that could possibily serve as access points to reach the top.  The first and likely the easiest, is a gully on the far left side (near the “half-pipe” slab) and the other, and likely a roped climb, a chimney on its far left side (the blocky overhanging section).  My partner and I entered the gully and saw that it was in no condition to attempt.  Not only was the rock covered with soaked moss and lichen, it was being further lubricated a steady trickling of water.  I also got to see up close that the gully is not a simple walk-up.  It is certainly attainable as a short free climb (hands and feet required) but under these wet conditions it is not safe to attempt.  The left side chimney, a full-on committed climb, was drenched as well.

 

I was beginning to worry.  I didn’t bring myself or my partner out here for this.  I decided to continue to my left, hoping to find an access ramp or opening in the rocks.  Looking up at the chaos of zigzagging ledges and the lack of trees to rappel from in case I found myself needing to retreat and avoid a dangerous down climb, the “fear monkey” climbed on my back and began his hysterical chatter.  Nothing but vertical rock and slip-and-slide switchbacks that go nowhere but up seemed to glare at me with contempt.  How ironic since I first wondered if this place had any climbing and now the abundance of climbing is forbidding me to even climb!  I tell my partner to stay behind as I become entangled in a cluster of thorn branches.  I decide that the only way to salvage the day and the only way up, is for me to earn it. 

I’m now approaching what I had thought on my previous visit was a giant slab.  Between me and the rock wall is a huge boulder that I scramble up using a nearby tree to brace myself and push off of.  Below the other side of the boulder lays a shattered tree in a ditch, but above me stands what looks like one of the most enjoyable 5.fun climbs I’ve ever seen. The giant slab is actually a low-angled series of small steps and shelves that cruises up for about 30 feet before ending with a ledge and then seems continues on up to another a wall of rock.  Intrigued, I begin working my way up ropeless, taking careful steps along the strips of stone and locking my fingers around any feature I could fully grip for fear of my feet slipping off.  I made it up 10-15 feet but couldn’t find any gear placements and decided it would be best to retreat since the rock was unprotectable for a lead attempt and a free solo is certainly out of the question.  I also didn’t see any natural anchors (trees) and I wasn’t going to chance ditching gear on a rappel that I might not be able to construct on featureless rock.  Again, I find myself thrilled with climbs emerging around every corner but frustrated with my limited technical skills to pursue them.  The problem is simple – my leading ability is inadequate.  I’m not ready to go Spiderman up the rock just yet.  I need to get ABOVE these climbs first, build an anchor, walk-off descend, and climb them on top-rope first.  I need to be familiarized with the terrain and the difficulty of the climbs. 

 

Lookng up at the features of the "fun" climb

 

I return to my partner with the bad news but vow not to let our day become a complete wash.  We march back to our packs and I realize all that remains is to build a pathetic short top-rope over a small outcropping just before where the New Year Wall begins.  I use it an opportunity to explain to my partner how to set up a textbook “bunny ear” top-rope climb using a static rope.  My partner is new to the outdoors but strong gym climber (climbs 5.11’s, leads indoors) and knows how to belay.  For what I had anticipated our day to be, I had an apt partner.  My partner’s inexperience combined with my limited experience and us attempting any “adventure climbing” on virgin territory is a recipe for disaster.  I had mistakenly anticipated the ease of which I could access New Year Wall’s climbs.  Taking a risk that day just for the sake of getting in a climb would have been stupid and could have possibly left me injured or in need of a rescue. 

 

I took a lot of time putting together my thoughts for this post because that day was a unique learning experience.  There are countless lessons from this day that I could share but I think the most important is that it's best sometimes to humbly accept defeat if it means you can live to fight and climb another day.  My partner is interested in making a return trip (when conditions improve) and I take some solace in knowing that despite having a lousy day they are inspired to come back and give it another go.  Me?  I have to say in spite of all the punches I took and being a bit wobbly on my stool I’m ready for a 3^rd round.  And for this fight I am happy to go the distance.