Of This I am Certain: OTIAC

Larry Susanka

So there we were. Dan and I were sitting in our rental Suburu by the freeway near Denver looking at a map, trying to find the spots marked "Dry" or simply "You Can Climb Here." Rain was coming down in SHEETS. We could barely see the road. The only good thing was that we were above 5000 feet and starting the acclimatization process we would need to give Long's Peak, at 14,000+ feet our main objective, a solid go. But we needed to get higher. And it would be SO nice to get our hands on some rock.

But where?

We started driving eastish and southish, elevation rising till we got to Eleven Mile Canyon, and saw lots of good (short) rock to climb, upon which inches of hail was falling. Eventually we got to Buena Vista in the Arkansas Valley. It features a huge prison. It was Friday night in tourist season and all the motel rooms were rented to rather tame-looking motorcycle people. Out of town a ways there was a KOA, a private campground on a pretty piece of land. I had never been to a KOA, and was dubious but, ultimately, very pleasantly surprised by the site and facilities, including showers, for $25. We put up our tent, went back to town and bought a climbing guide at the local outdoor store, then off to a Mexican Restaurant to think.

It was sprinkling again and everyone was saying it would be Monday or later till the storm front abated. We went back to the KOA and went to sleep in the tent. Dan went to sleep listening to Art Bell on the iPod. He woke up with a weird expression, mumbling crazy-talk. I tried to ignore it, but it was my iPod so I felt responsible.

Anyway, the next day, fueled by many cups of pretty-good coffee, we headed for SW Colorado, Colorado Monument, and sandstone towers. The other side of the rockies would likely be dry. We passed through the interesting old-mining town of Leadville. At 10,430 feet it is said to be the highest incorporated city in the US.

We spent two nights at a campsite perched on the rimrock overlooking a thousand-foot deep canyon filled with free-standing fins of weathered sandstone. Its quality varies from brown sugar to extremely hard desert-varnished rock, with most rock somewhere in between. We had fun, scared ourselves a bit, and I almost lost my camera. (I was backtracking to find it when somebody walked down the trail with it, having picked it up by a rock formation that looked like a 10 foot frog with gaping open mouth. We had earlier stopped there to crawl inside for pictures.)

The first night, while watching Dan make dinner, I was stricken with a vision and, demanding attention, I asserted firmly:

Dan, LISTEN TO ME. If any version of philosopher tells you he or she is absolutely certain about some deep complex question, and proceeds to expound on the truth of the matter with verve, punch and conviction, he or she is most unlikely to have any answer you are looking for.

Of This I Am ABSOLUTELY Certain. OTIAC. Or OTIAAC. Whatever.

I have been in a self-referential mood of late, enjoying my innate oh-so-human knack for internal contradiction.

The second night (Sunday night) some chanting nuts started reciting, all together loudly, some kind of liturgy at about 6 am at a cluster of nearby campsites. We found later that these people were .... some version of American Christian, entertaining 5 big vans full of visitors from other countries. Too bad the sponsors didn't think to display by example that politeness in campsites is regarded by many Americans as a modest virtue, though it might be easy to overlook while dealing with more important questions, such as the disposition of immortal souls.

Weather on the east side was getting better so Monday, after climbing Independence Monument, we headed out. We drove past Vail, listening to Art Bell, and a blend of Country Music, Jazz and Classic Rock on the iPod. We stopped at a motel in an old mining town, Georgetown, a really nice motel with free breakfast and other facilities. I like Georgetown. A lot.

After walking around town a bit we "summited" Mt. Evans, one of the fourteen-thousanders, to help us acclimatize (and because we were going near anyway.) We saw a Yeti. We saw big-horn sheep meandering among the cars on the road to the summit. We saw a big observatory. All Very Cool.

We then drove to the Twin Owls Motel in Estes Park. It was late and we paid too much for a room in this slightly seedy place. Poorly patched holes in the wall. Ants coming in through broken wood in the bathroom doorframe. No alarm clock. No little mint on the pillow.

The next day (Wednesday) we walked around town and in the afternoon headed up to Long's Peak. It looked like Thursday would be the best weather day. While we were getting our stuff organized in the parking lot at 9600 feet, thunderstorms rolled through. Lightening flashes, big noise. Dan and I each imagined what it would be like to get hit by that, exposed at elevation. Gulp.

We hiked away from the lot with heavy packs and arrived at our bivy cave at around 11,800 feet on Chasm Lake just as it was getting dark. We cooked up 3 freeze-dried meals, boiled a bunch of (probably bug-infested) water and, after carefully hanging our packs, we sacked out.

Dan started making noises about little creatures running around. Yeah. Uhuh. Probably Reptilians or Insectoids.

Then one jumped off a nearby rock onto my bag and ran off. It was carnival time in the ol' bivvy cave. I resolved to ignore them and went back to sleep. Around 4 AM Dan and I woke up to discover that these Little Ratty B@$t@rds (I believe their true species is "Pika") love string. Any kind of string. They had chewed our shoelaces into 6 inch pieces and run off with them. I had only two 6 inch pieces left. Dan was in similar straits. They chewed the little strap off my digital camera. They chewed off part of Dan's shoulder strap on his hanging pack.

It seems that Little Ratty B@$t@rds do not hibernate. They spend the short summer months collecting haystacks of stuff in the interstitial spaces between boulders in boulder fields ... such as the one we were sleeping on. They weave a special kind of herb into these haystacks which has anti-fungal properties. When snow covers the boulder field, they spend all winter wandering around in Little Ratty B@$t@rd City, snacking, gambling, fornicating and stealing the assembled treasures from each other. String ranks pretty high as a prize, I'm guessing.

So Dan and I spend an hour repairing our shoes and pack from scavenged stuff-sack drawcords. We are going to be climbing in trail-runners, our only shoes, and these shoes have string in two eyelet pairs only.

Finally we are ready, and we take off for Lamb's slide, a fairly steep and narrow gully that provides access to the left (East) edge of Broadway. Broadway is a ledge, more or less horizontal, that cuts across the entire Diamond, which is the virtually-vertical North-East Face of Long's peak.

Broadway is an amazing feature. It is between 2 and 10 feet wide, usually slanted but negotiable (in principle) without ropes across the entire face. In the center it is over 1000 feet above Chasm Lake.

Anyway, we negotiate the left edge of Lamb's slide, rope up and work our way across the mostly snow-covered Broadway till we get to a pillar upon which I set up a belay to begin the vertical climbing. There are 3 beautiful shiny new rappel anchors set up there, probably placed by rangers for rescue purposes. It is probably near the start of the Kiener's Ledges route.

Dan climbs his pitch straight up and now it is my turn. I face a frozen waterfall, up and slightly left. Water is running against the rock with an airspace and a half-inch shell of ice. I have to punch through the ice to find placements for gear or to find something to hold or stand on. It is cold, and I find swearing and complaining loudly helps pass the time as I work my way up to the top of the waterfall.

I noticed that I don't feel the elevation much while I am sitting still, but even modest effort has me wheezing like a bellows. Then a couple of minutes after stopping I am ok again.

I get to the place that seems a natural stopping place and bring Dan up. We swap leads all the way on low fifth class terrain. Nothing over 5.7, I guess, though mostly 5.4 or less. The snow and ice on half the surfaces and the heavy packs and the lack of regular rock-climbing shoes make it hard to judge.

We get to the summit a bit before 4 pm. We bask in the sun and relax, hydrate, eat a little, enjoy the view, sign the summit register. OTIAC.

Then we head down.

The Keyhole Route, the usual ascent route on the North side for those who are not experienced climbers, is our descent. But it is covered with ice and running water, and the rock has been polished smooth by thousands of boots. It is slicker than snot, dangerous, and it takes us 2 hours to work our way down the initial descent. It would take 15 minutes if dry.

Anyway, we finally make it back to the car about 11:45 pm. Drink some water, head for Estes Park. I want 4 MacDonalds Cheeseburgers and a Big Rootbeer, but MacDonalds closed at midnight and we just missed it. %$@##$

We go to a little bar and get 4 pre-packaged REALLY BAD soggy sandwhiches, the ONLY food (not even a "Quickie Mart" is open) in town.

We splurge and decide to stay at Howard Johnson's, and Dan talks the guy down to a little over $100 (who else is going to rent that room on Thursday night at 1 am?) and we shower and then sleep like the dead. Howard Johnson's gave us a free breakfast buffet and we sucked up about 5000 calories each. Thanks!

The next day is a rest day, and we meander down to Colorado Springs. Saturday arrives, and we head out to Garden of the Gods, a small climbing area with a dozen or two free standing 20-100 foot sandstone pillars. We play a bit, taking it easy before heading home.

Our last climb is on a fin called Montezuma, and a couple of young men got there just ahead of us. The sky was getting overcast and a distant rumble could be heard, off aways. While they were roping up we learned that they were Army guys, not experienced climbers, and pretty worried about the climb---it was their very first day lead climbing outside the gym. It turns out each of these guys had done a tour in Afghanistan and a tour in Iraq. They looked and joked around like kids---hell, they were kids. But when they briefly mentioned their service they looked very very serious, and didn't look like kids anymore at all.

But then back to the climbing. The thunder and lightning was getting closer, our novices got themselves past the hard part of the climb and bailed, Dan scampered up and finished the climb, I raced up and cleaned the pitch and Dan and I rapped, hit the ground, and the rain and thunder rolled over us just as we were coiling the ropes.

Whew! So that was our climbing trip. No more adventures, we got back to Denver the next morning, turned in the rental car and got to the airport.

The Democratic National Convention was due to start the next day, and I have NEVER seen so many police, moving in groups, everywhere in the airport. When I got home my pack seemed a little different, like it had been packed by someone better at packing than I am. I couldn't tell for sure. But then I found it.

Buried in the center of my pack, among my headphone and iPods and power cords, was a Sony 3-way splitter for a music device. It looked rather expensive.

And it was not mine. I think it belonged to the insectoids.


Link to my Bellevue College Page

Susanka's Front Door


I can be contacted by phone at Bellevue College at (425) 564-2484 or by e-mail at lsusanka@bellevuecollege.edu .

Join the Blue Ribbon Online Free Speech Campaign!
Join the Blue Ribbon Online Free Speech Campaign!
This page was last modified on 07/18/14 at 20:46.
These are my personal pages. Bellevue College is not responsible for their contents, nor do they reside on a BC server.