Here is where I work to catch up on all the awesome things I did but neglected to blog about. This episode: Lost World Butte, which Brent and I climbed in October. Before we make a trip to Moab, it's always difficult to choose a route: should we climb a long, all-day tower? Or maybe a lot of shorter routes? Somewhere crowded? Somewhere remote? However, this route stuck in my head (and probably Brent's too) because it just looks so nice. Observe.
The Road Not Taken is the route that goes up that butte. The name is appropriate, as the large volume of sand indicated this route is not climbed much. The area is about 20 miles outside of Moab, but most of that distance is covered on dirt roads, so it feels even more remote. In fact, we didn't see anyone else the entire time we were there. It was awesome! But dirty. The approach was kind of interesting, there was lots of non-sandstone rocks scattered about, like they had washed from the top of the butte during a storm. But there's only sandstone up top, so I'm confused about it.
The first pitch was pretty short, and unchallenging. Really, the greatest difficulty there was choosing what clothing layers to bring up. I chose wrong, a tank top and shorts were not enough when we were climbing in the shade (80% of the route). Then we had to move the belay, which was almost scarier than climbing. We (Brent) picked up the rope and walked along a ledge that quickly got slope-y and sandy and scary. He was at least willing to scope out the move with a helmet on. But then when he actually moved the belay, I wore the helmet and spent the whole time trying to make an anchor while he actually moved. Being the awesome climbing partner/boyfriend that Brent his, he had me rope up to make the treacherous moves he had just done without a rope. Anyways, the second pitch was interesting, to say the least. It was scary, to describe it accurately. Remember how I said the climb was dirty? Well, Brent spent quite a while just figuring out what rocks could be pulled on, and what was just mildly consolidated sand. It kind of made him look like Winnie the Pooh, stuck in a honey pot.
Once he got up and over this difficulty, the actual climbing happened. I couldn't see him, but I could hear rocks crashing down. And I could feel his movements through the rope, and it sure seemed like he wasn't placing a lot of protection on the route. When he finished he called out "Becka, this pitch is interesting, and it's completely within your limit. OK?" I thought that was weird, because it's usually something he says before I start a climb, not mid-route. Then I got to the GIANT TRAVERSE! It was horrifying. I don't like traversing (moving horizontally, rather than vertically), I spend the entire time envisioning giant pendulum falls, which makes me climb slower and is exhausting. This felt worse, because the foot-holds and hand-holds were really soft and always breaking off. Anyways, I could see why he had given me a pep-talk, and proceeded to literally crawl through a 150-foot high sandbox, then teeter across a ledge to where he was belaying me. It's pretty awesome climbing with someone who knows my weaknesses and helps me work past them. Below is a picture of the long, exposed traverse (the route goes along that ledge above my head).
The 3rd pitch was also interesting, but less stressful. It was a squeeze chimney. Which is as grunty and physical as it sounds. While the climbing isn't difficult, it's tiring. This pitch was the first time the BigBro was used, which was awesome. Below you can see Brent squeezing into the chimney.
At the top of the 3rd pitch I stopped to take pictures, because that's what I do. I think my boyfriend's hot, especially when he climbs, and I must document it. The 4th pitch was the hardest of them all. Mostly the top section. Here are some pictures of Brent climbing the most visually dramatic route I've ever photographed. It was really beautiful.
Amazing, right? The last 20 feet are really difficult. And they're following a really long pitch protected by 3 pieces (total). So as Brent worked through the off-width or lie-back moves required to clear the route, I shivered and fretted and eventually cried. Yes, I cry when I get stressed watching others climb. Luckily, Brent was far enough away he couldn't see it (and he was actually focused on climbing), and by the time I got to him I worked through that awesome pitch (awesome if you're the second), so I was happy again.
The sun was getting ready to set, so we took some quick pictures and ran to find the rappel anchors near the other end of the butte.
After finding the way back to our stuff in the dark, and getting back to the car (assisted by my GPS unit right before it died (literally died), we decided to spend the next day taking it easy. We did some climbing, but mostly a lot of sitting by the fire and enjoying being all by ourselves in the middle of nowhere. It was very hippie-ish, and very awesome.
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