Monday 2^nd.

Last Friday I sent out an emergency missive, begging all known climbing buddies (both potential and actual) to consider climbing with me at Sleeping Giant on Monday afternoon. No takers. I really cruelled my chances by including a link to my previous TR ... which revolves mostly around the area’s current infestation with poison ivy.

In any case, I did manage to go somewhere on Monday after all. Gary Sax, in his beneficence, said that he would indeed like to climb with me anywhere, anywhere that wasn’t the Giant. Heaving a great sigh I accepted this and we, eventually, chose to climb at Cathole Pass (near Meriden).

Gary picked me up at my place some time between 5.30 and 6pm Monday afternoon. I had all my gear together, except for one nut-tool (missing in action … possibly during the Seneca Rocks trip, I wonder if it’s in JP’s possession?) looks like I gotta go shopping again.

During the drive to Cathole Gary and I caught up a little bit. We haven’t climbed together since late April. Gary’s heading off to Tucson (AZ) on Friday to start work as a professional loafer and he is looking forward to it a great deal. We talked about what we were going to do today. It was agreed that we should do Golden Book (5.6) on lead and then perhaps top-rope the classic Pegasus (5.8) or perhaps check out Elegant Monkey (5.5) for a second lead. Neither of us really minded exactly what it was that we did, just so long as we got to climb some rock!

The car was parked and the short hike up to the cliff was shortly hiked. There were a couple of friendly blokes top-roping Pegasus who immediately offered us a ride on that or another line that they had set up somewhere. This, of course, served merely to reinforce my long-held opinion of the average Connecticut climber as being bloody marvelous. After a minute or so of some friendly chat with the belayer we set up at nearby Golden Book.

“Looks reasonable.” I said. Gary and I, behaving like a couple of terminally polite Englishmen, bantered deferentially about who would do the lead.

“After you.”
“No, after you sir.”
“Oh no sir, after you.”
“I insist.”
“Ah, but I insist.”
“No really old chap, I insist.”

It was sort of like that anyway. Which is a little out of character for both of us, but then this is climbing and it’s screamingly obvious that peace and happiness for all is of the highest order. We can, as we did, save our somewhat opinionated personas for the post-climb denouement. We finally agreed that I would lead it and, if this was in fact “reasonable”, Gary would consider leading it himself.

Ken Nichols describes the climb in “Traprock: Rock climbing in central Connecticut” as follows ...

Golden Book (5.6) **

This large, impressive open book has a beautiful golden glow in the rays of the setting sun. At its base is an enormous block that arches over the trail.

The first third follows an easy ramp in the corner and I managed to do this without placing any protection. At the top of the ramp I began what was more or less a stem-fest ascent up the corner and I placed gear as often as I thought was reasonable. My personal demons hovered close by and whispered their awful certainties into my ear. I was getting pretty nervous and paused to rest whenever I could. Down below Gary was chatting to the two fellows we met earlier. It was a little tricky and I did have to commit to what I felt where a couple of difficult moves, each of which raised the hair on the back of my neck. I used a camalot at one point, but unwilling to trust it too much I placed it as a chock (which you can safely and reliably do with the double-axle units).

I reached the top and walked back from the edge towards a tree some 10 yards distant and fixed the end of my rope (using a figure-of-eight, a locking biner and a girth-hitched sling) around the base. I walked back along the rope to the edge and placed a couple of figure-of-eights on a bight, one for me, and one for the belay. I should have taken up Gary’s static line for this, but I didn’t.

Gary followed up the ramp easily and then went out of sight below me as he started up the corner. As he likes stemming and is, indeed, quite good at it (something I’m sure which is related to his years in the martial arts) he had no real trouble with the climb. It was merely a matter of finding one’s feet. Moving back into view just before coming over the top he said that it was a fun route and that my placements were good. He was not, however, quite ready to lead it himself. We high-fived it, exchanged some gear, collected the rope and struggled down the loose scree descent path just a few yards away to our right. Gary hates scree. I’m no fan of it either. Nevertheless, we made it back down the steep trail safely enough. To my mild astonishment I did not fall down (my usual method of gravity-assisted descent).

Up top we had talked about maybe trying Elegant Monkey (5.5). I thought perhaps if we had time Gary might, after climbing on second, consider leading that one himself.

The RMF guide topo-map of Cathole Pass is quite good, but the drawing of Elegant Monkey is just a wiggly line and there is no written description. However, I had in my possession a copy of Ken Nichols “Traprock” (on loan from John Peterson), which was very helpful.

Elegant Monkey 5.5 **

     FA- Chris Stone, Ken Nichols, November 1975
Around the corner from the overhangs is a large left-facing corner with a perfect overhanging hand crack. Climb this to a large sloping ledge. Then continue straight up and out left to blocks and a final crack.

Gary did not immediately agree. He was pretty certain that the climb was more to the right where we first stopped to consider a likely looking line. But it was the initial overhanging hand crack that I found further down to the left that clinched it for me. For reasons that would become obvious quite soon, Gary would continue to have his doubts.

The overhanging hand crack was tricky, not what I would expect on a 5.5 climb, but I managed it with a little layback and a mantle up to the first ledge. From here I think I lost my way a little. I moved up and left along the ledge and onto a corner crack. I now think that the route should have continued straight up after the hand crack (as the description plainly states). The corner crack, however, sang a siren song of strong protection … something that didn’t appear obvious to me on the direct line. A slight mistake. That corner rapidly steepened and the crack narrowed. The protection was there, but it was difficult to find a stance to use it. The rock was a bit broken up and the left face was dirty and insecure. At some point I dropped a wired nut trying to place it. About 15 feet below the top I placed a nut that I thought sucked mightily (I was not going to risk a fall on that one) so, with some difficulty, I backed it up with a small MacGregor hex. This took me a long time to sort out and eventually my strength gave out.

“Gary!” I called back down. “Take!”

Gary pulled back the slack and took my weight on the line, I watched the nut sink into the crack and it held fast. The MacGregor hex crouched and waited, so far unneeded, in its pocket. I was exhausted. Unseen and below me, the next placement down (a wired nut, the one used instead of the dropped one) quietly popped out. I’m glad I didn’t see it happen, because I was sketching out as it was. Above me the steepness of the route passed beyond vertical and into an overhang for the last 8 or 10 feet.

The last section was very tiring. I don’t remember much in the way of details. Just that the left side was nearly useless for my feet, there was occasional loose rock, I needed to genuinely hand jam my way past one little bit (something I despise doing) and that last-gasp 5 foot run-out to the very top was an exercise in sheer desperation and terror. Mantling it over the edge with my feet swinging freely in space I crawled away feeling totally drained.

“5.5 my ass” I muttered darkly to myself. There was a tree very close to the edge and I used it to set up a belay anchor for Gary. Once anchored and ready to take up slack I leaned over the top and shouted down to Gary that I could be taken off belay.

Gary had some trouble and, as I did, found it a challenging climb. The very start took a little working out, but the move was easy once it was found. The last ten feet were very tough. He made it, admitting that his style was not pretty, but he still got up there. There was just no way that the route we followed was 5.5 and for a long while Gary maintained that Elegant Monkey must lie somewhere else to the right.

We were both dustier and drier than an outback pub.

Shaking hands and collecting our gear we wandered slowly to and then down the descent path. Back at the base I found, amazingly enough, the wired nut that I had dropped and returned it to my rack. Gary and I wrangled over the identity of our route for some time. I thought that it was simply a case of sandbagging. Gary impugned my route-finding ability and claimed that we were no-where near Elegant Monkey. I questioned his parentage and then things just went to hell from there. Shouts and insults rang through the woods. Traffic stopped, people stared open-mouthed and the very earth shook with our tremendous battle.

At the road we encountered the other two guys who, having finished their quiet enjoyment of rock, were supping on cold beer. We asked one of them, who apparently climbed at Cathole Pass with some frequency, about Elegant Monkey. No luck there, he had no clue.

Gary, despite my unreasoning mulishness, drove me home. We had still enjoyed a great days climbing that had taken both of us to our technical limits. I will sadly miss Gary when he leaves for warmer Arizona. It’s a bit rough to meet an eminently suitable climbing partner only to lose him pretty much immediately.

Gary notes ... "I think you got it right; I'm now convinced that you found the correct start but then wandered off to another line above that first ledge. It was dirty enough so that I think we can fairly claim 1st Ascent rights. I think "Lost in the Outback" would be appropriate; what do you think? I'd rate it 5.9. Hey, I don't have to be right on this-- I just have to believe it. Wow! A 5.9 first ascent, we're pretty good!

I agree, "Lost in the Outback" is a great name for this variant ... now, about that rating ... uuummm ...