Darren and I climbed our first desert tower this past weekend...and the hardest 5.9 of my life: The Mace. Darren's family was staying in Phoenix, so we joined his dad and drove from Cali to AZ arriving about 1:30AM or so. The next day we drove the two hours to beautiful deserty Sedona. I'd been there with Lara Lea this past Summer and had not been impressed by the touristy main strip. The natural beauty outside of that area, however, is amazing. Spires and mesas decorate the landscape in reds and oranges and curious tiki bushes stick up randomly amongst the stone. We set out to climb a chimney/off width 5 pitch climb, which happens to be one of the first 50 greatest climbs of North America. Read on!
After scrambling past endless brick colored stone and various tourists who asked things like, "Is there a rope attached to the top for you to climb up?" and yearningly stated "I wish I could go up there," we found ourselves at the bottom of the spire. We were dripping in sweat. It was probably close to 90 degrees, so we ditched our jackets and piled in 4 liters of water in the backpack I'd be carrying. After running out of liquid in Yosemite two weekends ago, we didn't want to take any chances today--especially in the extreme heat.
As I got to the top of the first pitch I noticed that the sky was ominously dark in some regions of the sky. I spoke to Darren and he said he'd been watching it as well. We decided we'd climb to the second pitch, eat some food, and decide our next action.
After avoiding the chimneys by stemming on the outside of them (I didn't want to scrape my backpack and camera along the wall), I managed to follow Darren up the tricky second pitch. We sat on our belay ledge munching on peanut butter crackers and trying to decrease our liquids. We were now enjoying a nicely shaded route with perfect weather in our direct vicinity. Unfortunately like a screen just in front of us flashed lightning and we could see sheets of rain pouring down. It all seemed to be parallel to us and not moving towards us at all so, so we decided to continue on...
We probably did not make the smartest decision. After negotiating another chimney on the third pitch, our next belay ledge was extremely windy. I anxiously looked at the sky, but then concentrated on belaying Darren as he twisted through an impossibly difficult offwidth. Wowsers, was it ever challenging! Offwidths are often talked about with much respect because one can't quite chimney, and no form of jams seem to work--except both Darren and I kept getting our helmets stuck in the crack. Grr, it was frustrating! Plus, the weather seemed to be moving closer to us. I started becoming panicky, and by the time I reached the top it had begun to sprinkle. Darren and I decided to forgo the ten foot last pitch and get our metal covered hineys off the spire as quickly as our rubber souled shoes could take us. We speedily took a few pictures and then rappelled down the rock.
Darren kept saying, "Let's do this quickly, but smartly." I agreed and triple checked my belay device before lowering myself down hundreds of feet on our two ropes we had tied together. The first rap was the most Indiana Jonesesq-weathery-intense rappel I have ever experienced. Wind was blowing full force and I could feel as the heavens began to open up. We made our last descent as the rain intensified all the more. As we tugged on the rope to pull it down, it resisted with all its might. Darren and I counted to three over and over and yanked down the rope together with all our combined strength, each time moving the rope a few mere inches. I felt like we were two bell ringers calling in townspeople to escape a hurricane.
As soon as the spire finally unclutched our rope, we shed our harnesses and escaped to a dry spot by the spire. We stood there quite sometime until Darren suggested we search for a better place in which we could sit down. Just around the corner was a little cave perfect for our escape.
The next hour and a half or so we sat shivering in the small half-moon shaped indention. I felt like a Native American living my life in congruence with the weather. We watched as the rain would intensify, settle down a bit, then intensify again. We gazed in awe at the simultaneous lightning bolts in the distance, the brand new waterfalls coming off the side of the mountains across from us, and at Darren's vehicle parked just a twenty minute hike down below us. At one point I was shocked to feel and then see little pieces of icy hail fall upon my head.
Finally, Darren sprinted around the spire to retrieve our backpacks, and, more importantly, my jacket. It was damp, but warm. As I'd been shivering in the cave, it was hard to imagine the intense 90 degree heat we had felt in the morning.
Darren also came back with the news that the weather looked as though it was clearing. We waited another fifteen minutes or so, packed up all our soaked and muddy gear, then carefully slipped down the red rock. Just prior to reaching the parking lot we were surprised to discover a new stream had formed from the showers, so we sloshed around in it.
I admit that I had been a little freaked out standing on top of the spire with the lightning flashing about me, but the whole experience was extremely fun. I was glad that I got to experience it with Darren and that both of us came out safely.
The rest of the weekend we enjoyed hanging out with Darren's family: swimming with his nephews, playing tennis with his parents, looking at pictures, and discussing wedding plans. It was nice to have a breather, and I was just as thankful for the relaxation and bonding as I was for our amazing adventure.
