5/25/2012 A small cam a little ways below my feet, the slowly thinning laser cut finger crack down to a seam, I need to make quick decision whether or not to grab that bunch of that bunch of penstemon flowers or take the ride.
How did I get here? Should I blame it on the altitude? Tiredness of the 3rd straight climbing day? Approach and deapproach of the previous two days? "Oh, I can climb 5.9" hubris?
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| On top of Dome Rock early in the morning. Silhouette of the Needles on upper left corner |
The flowers held - maybe due to the homage I paid them that dawn. Or more likely because they are tough, in addition to being pretty. I made a move or two and was able to grab something less ephermal and more substantial - that solid, rough, featured Needles rock.
5/22/2012 I wait over an hour for John and Alan to pick me up at Los Angeles airport - it is easy waiting at LAX - harmonizing people watching with trying to puzzle out the mysteries of long dead poets in a half understood language. We leave the airport in John's big-humungous-white-van rental. The city seems reluctant to let us go - it is well over an hour before the traffic thins and we can sense the hills as a vague darkness looming outside our personal light-tunnel on Interstate 5. The interstate gives way to a winding 2 lane road along the Kern river; our plans to drive most of the way to the Needles gives way to the need to find a place to sleep.
5/23/2012
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| Waking up at the side of the road after 3-4 hours of sleep |
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| Coffee at shop run by the devout at Lake Isabella |
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| First glimpe of the Needles - Voodoo Dome on right, the Magician on left, other magical entities in between |
Then begins the ninety minutes of off-trail slip sliding to get to the base of the climb (White Punks on Dope on Voodoo dome - 5-6 pitches, 5.8+, super-duper-classic
http://www.mountainproject.com/v/white-punks-on-dope/105844453). The approach has a bit of a reputation, but we did not help ourselves by starting at the wrong spot, rather than at the obvious cairn on the tree stump. Every few minutes we would find signs of previous passage, we would follow "trails" (being very generous here) of this sort for a short while before needing to improvise around thickets, over boulders and steep scree. Eventually, we hit the base of the dome skirted left until we see the Needles (west side of the Warlock). A few more minutes and we are at the base of the beautiful dihedral handcrack that constitutes pitch-1.
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| John belaying me on P1. From good hands/fist, the crack thins out to not-much. |
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| Alan at the "not-much" end of P1 |
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| After a couple of delicate moves to get past the roof, Alan ran P2 and P3 together and is having fun belaying John up |
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| P4 is a beauty. Left foot smears, right foot in thin crack in the corner, right shoulder scumming. Repeat with variations for 80+ feet. |
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| Had a moment of panic when placing all my small cams and having difficulty getting a nut in. One more move and then the nuts were almost placing themselves. |
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| John at the
wide-crack layback section at the end of the P4. |
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| "Happy and you know it" at the top of P4. |
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| Setting up for the runout face of P5. |
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| But first, getting a lone piece in for the runout corner. A small but good nut that kept Alan out of John's lap. |
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| Steppin' out ... |
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| Up ... |
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| And away. Alan missed the 4th bolt and went straight up - the slippery way. John and I were holding our breath here. |
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| The finger crack goodness of P6 |
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| Alan sinking his fingers in |
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| At the top |
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| Yay - now how do we get off this thing. And get dinner at the Ponderosa |
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| Pretty |
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| Pretty (and tough
penstemon) |
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| John, The Warlock |
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| One rappel |
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| Back at the van. And it is still daylight. Good thing too, since Alan was the only one together enough to be carrying his headlamp. |
Between the last two pictures, was some initial decision making to find the trail. We managed to stay mostly on-trail - due to John's ability to sense the existence of the trail one drainage over - till we popped out 100 yards from the van at a clearing marked by cairn on top of a stump. I believe some trafficking with occult powers did occur.
Now for the mad rush to the Ponderosa for some hot food. It was almost an hour's drive - this included John powering through some "controlled-drift turns" on a very rutted forest service road in the big-humongous-white-van. The fact that we did not see a single car during this hour long drive should have tipped us off. Indeed, the Ponderosa was closed. PB&J it is.
Tomorrow Igor Unchained on the Witch.
