Is none other than The Buttress made of Moonlight. Zion's (and perhaps any sandstone climbing destination) finest free route. Good. Lord.
If you're into climbing what will feel like miles of ridiculous finger cracks on perfect red sandstone, perched high above the Virgin River, then this route is for you. Starting with a bit of scruffy ledge climbing, the route quickly turns to pitch after pitch of perfection. Stacked on top of one another are: A crazy 5.11 bolted traverse, a hard boulder problem (The Rocker Blocker) and long perfect corner, a 5.12+ tips layback crux corner, another 5.12 flare, an 11++ finger crack that has perfect finger locks and small features on the face for your feet, a 5.12 finger crack splitter with no feet, and "The Nutting Pitch," also 5.12. Are you fucking kidding me?
Jesse Huey and I were up on the route yesterday trying to send it. I was trying to onsight, and Jesse was back after a few other attempts in previous years. The climbing has always been just slightly out of reach for him, with one or two falls keeping him from freeing the route. Needless to say, he was super motivated and excited. So much so that our 4 AM wake up didn't faze him, and we had coffee and loud music going by 4:15.
I was doing pretty well, onsighting the route up until The Rocker Blocker. The weight of the knowledge of what lay ahead of me probably took its toll, and I fell onto a bolt at the first really hard bit. Oh well. The onsight was blown, but we were still really psyched and going well. I lowered back to the belay and then, after a brief rest and a gaze out onto the river valley below, started climbing and fired the pitch. I brought Jesse up to my hanging belay, eying the crux just above.
From the belay, I started leading into the thin, hard locks, and fell again as it stated to get desperate. Damn! I knew Jesse really had his eye on the tips corner, as it was one of the two pitches that he'd yet to free. I turned over the sharp end, allowing him to have a go just as it was going into the sun. We knew it was supposed to be hot that day - forecasts called for near 90 degree temps and baking sun - so we'd have to hustle before things got unbearable. Jesse took off and was CRUSHING. He stuffed in the new blue Metolius master cam I'd just bought especially for this pitch, and kept climbing towards easier terrain. The leader needs to place two cams above that little blue piece before they can squirm into a mediocre rest at a wider part of the crack, and as he went to put in the first, the ultra technical smearing feet were a little too warm. His foot slipped as he was putting in the cam and it didn't go exactly where he wanted.
"You've got it, keep breathing!" I encouraged from about 30 feet below. I could feel how badly he wanted to send the pitch, and was fully pulling for my buddy. Jesse, a mountain beast who is one of my most dialed, strongest trad-partners, (and also half man-half Yeti, thus necessitating the nickname Jyeti) clipped the tiny cam at his waist and punched it. Just as he pulled towards the flare, he slipped again but couldn't recover. Zing! Down he came. The poorly placed cam pulled, sending tiny chips of rock down on my just as his weight came onto the new Metolius. It held just fine, but the extra distance of the fall brought him all the way back to the belay. Holy shit! We high-fived. Now we're going for it!
Jesse pulled back up and finished the pitch like a champ, and I toproped up to his belay, also falling and suffering in the heat. We raced up the flare above as fast as possible, taking shelter on a ledge under meager shirts, and wedging ourselves into whatever shade the rock would provide. After about an hour, the sun left the face and we continued climbing, the 3 liters we'd brought in a pack proving to be insufficient as the hydration reservoir began to gargle with the air in the hose.
We cruised up the first bit of finger splitter, but then the wheels kind of fell off. Both of us were cramping pretty badly, and the last two 5.12 pitches felt like they might have been 5.14. It was continuously daunting to realize that the route had been Honnold-pointed (free soloed) while we oozed out of tips locks with 1,000 feet of air below our puckered asses.
We topped out, a bit defeated and a lot tired, but never demoralized. Jyeti and I plan to rap back in tomorrow and stash a little water, rehearse some crux beta, and prepare for another shot on Tuesday, weather permitting. There is a bit of a storm coming through, so at least the sun won't be nearly as oppressive. By stashing the water, we'll be able to climb without any weight on the second's back, and hopefully pull off a team free ascent. If it doesn't work...who cares? We're going to try as hard as we can, have a ton of fun, and enjoy one of the best routes either of us has done. Good times. (We'll try to remember to bring a camera on the rap mission, and post some pics.)
I realize that freeing the route matters less than doing what I love to do, in a beautiful place with a good friend. I am constantly reminded about how lucky I am and how my life is so full of love, and hanging out on the Moonlight was just another manifestation of that good fortune. Major thanks to all the good friends in my life who provide me with a seemingly inexhaustible supply of laughs, insight, support and love.
Speaking of...a MAJOR Happy Mother's Day to Mama Suze. My Ma has always been an awesome supporter of all my adventures, and I can't say thanks enough. I love ya, Mom. And I'll be careful up there. Abaluba!
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