by Ron Kilber rpknet@aztec.asu.edu
Friday, June 28, 1996
Outing Report
Ron Kilber, Pete Garrett
It's 7 AM Friday morning and I'm reading the newspaper while drinking my coffee when the telephone rings. Nobody calls me this early without warning, so when I pick up the phone I say, "Hey". Of course, it's Pete Garrett. He's the only one who calls me this early, so I can be as casual as I desire when I answer the phone because I'm confident it's a trusted friend.
Yesterday the phone rang at precisely 7 AM, too. I said, "What do you want?" Only thing is, it wasn't Pete, but a lady from Nissan Motor Corporation wanting to know how I was holding up after they recalled and impounded my car about three weeks ago. She had her time zones confused, and she thought she was calling me at 8 AM. Even though I was enjoying to drive and logging all the miles possible on their brand new loaner car, I didn't exactly let on that I wished they would hurry up and get my car back to me. Even so, she apologized for all the inconvenience (what inconvenience, my car is 10 years old, and now I get to drive a brand new one for free?).
Anyway, Pete is calling to wake me up so that we can go climbing today. I forgot all about the rock climbing plans we made on Monday. That's when he checked me out and certified me to fly Cessna 172s from an FBO at the Chandler Airport. Pete is a CFII (FAA certified flight instructor, instrument).
We decide on the sport climbing area of Atlantis just east of Superior, AZ. Normally I'm a trad climber, so I don't sport climb all that much, however, Pete and I have been talking about flying to Devils Tower, Wyoming later in the summer, and in as much as we both have gotten a little out of shape lately, well, there's no better way to catch up than with a little intensive sport climbing at Atlantis. Several long days of climbing at Atlantis won't prepare anyone for Yosemite's El Capitan, but it certainly will guarantee an easier ascent of Devils Tower.
We arrive at Atlantis (in my brand new loaner car) at 10 AM. Because several cars (old and neglected--a sure sign they belong to climbers) are already in the parking lot, we decide to take the trail to the bottom of the canyon, rather then rappel the 135 feet to the bottom and risk rockfall to those already there. I prefer rappelling to negotiating a slippery, step trail (harder to fall on your ass).
The loose trail to the bottom is littered with everything imaginable that you find at land fills, including disposable diapers, ripe and ready for maggots. When I first used this trail years ago, there was no litter at all. Now, because of a growing population of misfits (human debris), it is a wasteland.
Up creek, Atlantis is a deep, steep, notch canyon, no more than twenty feet wide at the narrowest place. Queen Creek flows through here, although it is dry most of the year, and especially now during this severe drought period in Arizona. During the Monsoon season, I've seen Queen Creek flow through here high enough to completely engulf the canyon floor. In fact, the water flows through here with much more force than anywhere else on Queen Creek, owing to the bottle neck effect of the Atlantis area. A few years ago, the water came through here with such force that it completely rearranged the huge, sun-bathing-size boulders.
The temperature in the canyon is a cool 74 degrees with a breeze, due mostly to the higher elevation of 4,000 feet (it's probably already 90 degrees in Tempe). The sun has not yet risen high enough, so there is plenty of shade, at least on the south side of the canyon wall. Happily, there is no litter here, thanks to the ineptitude of the scourge who posses neither the skill to find this place, nor the ability to negotiate there way to it.
The walls of this canyon are sheer and rise to more than 300 feet on the south side of Queen Creek. The rock is volcanic and excellent for climbing. Years of climbing activity has pretty much eliminated most loose rock, so many of the holds are solid and skin friendly.
I want Pete to lead the first climb, but he starts whining right away, so I agree to go first on "Giggling Marlin" (5.9). It proves to be an excellent workout for me, although I can sense that I'm operating near my limits, especially while placing my quickdraws with one hand while I hang on for dear life with the other. Even so, I'm confident as I lead all the way, then rig a top rope configuration, and rappel back to the ground so I can belay Pete.
When Pete is ready to launch, I clear him to climb, and in short order and in excellent style, he ascends Giggling Marlin in about as much time as it would take him to climb nine flights of stairs.
Next we look at "Grumpy After Eight" (5.10). I tell Pete it's his turn to lead, but he starts whining again, so I go on lead this time too. I make it to the crux in pretty good form, however, when I attempt to move through it, the task is more than my forearms can bear. When I'm 10 feet above the crux bolt, my left forearm burns and then turns to mush. This right away tells me to get ready to fall. So I attempt a down-climb, but my left grip greases, and now I'm taking a 20 foot whipper. The fall factor is small, so the fall is quite bearable.
Three attempts, each followed by hang-dog rests, do nothing to help me through the crux, so I quit and let Pete lower me to the deck.
Next, Pete climbs easily to the crux, but he too greases and falls. After a few attempts with generous hang-dog rests, I lower him to the ground.
I really want to bag this climb today. Thinking the problem may just be a bad case of low blood sugar (after all, I've easily climbed Grumpy After Eight more than a time or two), I devour a chocolate Power Bar and about a quart of water.
Twenty minutes pass and I ascend the climb again. This time I make it easily to the crux bolt, but moving even 5 feet past it proves difficult, and as my grip fades, retreat becomes impossible, so again I take another whipper, but not until I get three flappers, two on my left hand and one on my right. Every thing I touch produces blood tracks. I simple don't have the physical strength for this climb today. It'll have to wait for another time.
We decide to round out the day by taking pictures and watching other climbers. Two guys by the name of Long and Rudy have been here all day working in the sun on the north wall on a way hard climb, maybe 5.12 or better. Actually, I think they are trying to break the Guineas Book of Records for the most hang-dogging in a day. Kidding aside, they are remarkable climbers.
Another guy shows up at the rap station 135 feet above the canyon floor. He wants to throw a rope so he can descend, but the climbers below him yell at him. They don't want him to throw anything, and instead invite him to descend on their rappel line which is already anchored and in place.
As if the yelling wasn't enough to induce caution, the rappeller, complete with an expedition-size backpack (I wonder if he is going to say overnight), descends with the speed and grace of an Army Ranger, and at one point almost bops the head of one climber 60 feet high.
Even though our day of climbing was cut short, it was truly an excellent outing. The weather was perfect, the effort exhilerating, and the beer at El Chilitos in Tempe was seventh-heaven refreshing.
Copyright 1996, Ron Kilber, all rights reserved.Ron Kilber rpknet@aztec.asu.edu
Pete Garrett iha@tds.net