Typically, when you want to do some athletic thing that’s beyond your current means, you want to adhere to a few broad but useful principles:
- Plan: Deliberate and thoughtful planning, of both the trip and your training, goes a long way to ensure success.
- Train: Be consistent, and make it goal-specific
- Recover: Get lots of sleep and keep overall stress levels low
Now, knowing all this, it’s a damn shame Phil and I did absolutely none of these things to prepare for Steck-Salathe. To be clear, the reason for this error was the fact that we simply underestimated the route. It’s a common story – and we hope others may learn from our mistakes. This is the story of how we proudly achieved the blazing time of 27 hours car-to-car on a 16-pitch route.
We arrived in the valley around 7PM on Monday, aiming to climb the 16-pitch 5.10, with most pitches containing a thrutchy wide section. We loaded up our backpack with two extra large nalgenes and a half bottle of gatorade, as well as probably the largest medkit I’ve ever taken on a multipitch. Those familiar with the route are likely already giggling. The discussion about what kit to bring roughly amounted to ‘hey these bottles are kinda big’ ‘yea, but I think it’ll be fine’ ‘ok sounds good’.
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Who needs to plan a trip when you can swipe? |
We’re doin GREAT on the approach |
A promising 5AM start and a genuinely quick 1hr approach made us feel pretty optimistic. The first pitch was uneventful, and the Wilson overhang was way chiller than advertised. A party of three joined up behind us, moving impressively fast using a fix-and-follow strategy. Their first comment was to the effect of ‘I guess we’re all in this adventure together!’
By the third pitch, we started noticing that we were kind of behind schedule. A little more beat, a little slower – no big deal, right? Our friends seemed less confident: ‘so, you guys planning to bivvy?’ ‘nah, we’ll be done in time to get pizza!’ (lol)
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Us before realizing the PAIN we’re about to experience. |
The surprisingly chill Wilson Overhang |
We arrived at the halfway rap station fully behind schedule. It was now 1PM. To add to our woes, a rogue and unforecasted storm cloud brought some light rain. It seems that the wind picked up on top at this point too. ‘Hey is it hailing?’ ‘no those are small pebbles’ ‘I think I might want to chill on a piece until the rock rain subsides…’
After letting the other party pass us (big mistake, easily added two hours to our time), we get to the narrows. Phil is so fucked up at this point that he hasn’t felt up to leading the last 3 pitches. Mike swears a lot throughout the pitch, but the real fun was yet to come. It was now fully the middle of the night.
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It’s as fun as it looks! |
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You see, the narrows are not actually that hard. They’re just kind of narrow. Mike even remarked that it was ‘just as annoying as every other pitch’. Unless, of course, you’re the follower. Then you might be, say, trailing a backpack (with a couple large water bottles). And maybe a couple helmets. And perhaps some approach shoes. In this scenario, you get to have a lot of fun. Phil’s hour of joyous climbing sounded something like this:
‘AHHHHHHH’ ‘GAHHHHHH’ ‘AHHHH FUCK GAHHHH’ ‘AHHHH’ ‘MICHAEL PUT ME ON A 3:1’ ‘AHHHHHHHH’ ‘I FELL OUT’ ‘GAHHHHHH’ ‘FUCK THIS PACK’ ‘FUCK THESE HELMETS @#@##!!$”
But seriously, how did this happen? We thought we loved the wide! Well, sometime in early June we had the following discussion, and then a fascinating training plan:
Phil: Hey, I’ve got my defense coming up in September, but would you be down for Steck-Salathe in early October?
Mike: Sounds awesome! I love the wide almost as much as you!
June
Phil averages 10 hr/day work days, 7 days a week, with 6 hrs of sleep. Perhaps an average of two days of climbing a week.
Mike is better, but not by that much. Mike also trains for a marathon.
July
Mike continues training for a marathon. Work is still stressful.
Phil works even more. Phil goes to Mesa Rim twice, and Woodson twice.
August
Mike’s marathon training continues and work stress ramps up.
Phil works even more. His only exercise is the occasional 5k row and one single day at Mesa Rim where we climb 150 pitches each of 5.7
September: Mike runs a marathon. Phil is no longer exercising.
October: We’re ready for Steck Salathe, right?
Having successfully gotten our backpack through the narrows, Phil seemed completely devastated. However, he had committed to leading the subsequent pitch (5.8 grovel) to give Mike’s lead head a little bit of a break. Mike also suspected that it would be nice for him to climb a bit without a pack. After a 10-40 minute nap (no idea – time flies when you’re having fun) minute nap, he ventured off into the chimney.
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Phil is having lots of fun |
Mike led the final hard pitch, and Phil the easy fifth, and the route was finally complete. Given that we were totally dehydrated and sleepy, we decided that we should sleep on top, to at least fix one of our problems. Our sleeping systems were a rope mat and a mat made out of a disassembled backpack, random items as pillows, and emergency bivvy sacks as sleeping bags. With the relatively warm nighttime temps, it was almost luxurious – to our own surprise, we actually managed to get some real sleep that night!
We awoke at sunrise feeling shockingly refreshed. Our party-of-three compatriots were extremely jealous of our bivvy sacks, and reported absolutely horrible sleep in comparison. I guess despite the condensation, the space blankets really are pretty great! In any case, at this point we collectively meandered down the descent, drank some water from the spring, and finally made it back to the valley.
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The morning after… |
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In the following hours, we probably chugged two liters of various fluids, ate many calories, and took a much deserved nap. We only brought ourselves to climb a little the following day, cruising up munginella before packing up to leave the following day. What a fucking trip. Did I mention we saw an Aurora?
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The gang |
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Recovery time 🙂 |
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