July 17-22. On the road again. Destination, the Adirondacks and the Laurentians. Wednesday, July 17 was a driving day, pushing a little rented Galant north to Keene, N.Y. Not a bad car, but it could have used the turbocharger from my Passat. Road music was the radio plus a handfull of CDs from a Wallmart bargain bin. The hands down winner was Santana's "Supernatural," which I could (and we did) listen to over and over. The destination in Keene was a rendezvous with R.L. Stolz, long-time climbing mentor and partner. For this trip, I made him promise not to tell jokes while I was leading, and he stuck to his word - for the most part. Thursday, July 18 was scheduled for climbing in the Dacks and a night drive, but thunderstorms blocked us. We ended up spending the morning playing with aid gear in R.L.'s garage/gear depot/home climbing gym. Finally, I know what a "fifi hook" is. After lunch, we sadddled up the Mitsubishi and headed north, passing through Montreal and on to the small, pretty town of Val David. R.L. had climbed here before, and steered us to the Edelweiss, a nice looking inn that he had previously seen, but not visited. We didn't bring camping gear, and the plan was to stay at the Edelweiss one night, then move to a cheaper no-tell motel for subsequent days. Turns out, however, that the Edelweiss has a pool, plus a restaurant that would earn stars even in New York. And they responded to our request for separate beds by pulling apart and remaking the European-style paired twins of what looked like the honeymoon suite. Do I have to say that we ended up staying there the whole time? |
The honeymoon suite - sadly wasted on R.L. and I - and the pool. Life is tough... |
Our rainout of the previous day had left us antsy, and the luxurious Edelweiss didn't even start serving breakfast until around 8:30, so we got up early on Friday and headed out to bag a couple of routes before breakfast. A ten minute drive and a ten minute walk took us to Mont Condor, where R.L. pointed me at a gentle gear route named Le Diedre (5.5) for a warm-up. This shot of me on Le Diedre gives an idea of the rock, which was high quality everywhere we climbed. R.L. told me the Val David area features rock geologically identical to the Adirondacks (can't remember the name right now - duh!). Apparently, however, the texture varies a bit from location to location. |
The next route was Orca, a bolted 5.10a that, after an initial rightward traverse, tracks straight up the remarkable, clean cut arete of a small spire, before traversing back left at the top. Unfortunately, the image quality isn't quite good enough to pick up my expression in these shots. Verbal renditon would read something like, "What the f$%! am I doing up here?" |
With that to whet our appetites we headed back to the Edelweiss for breakfast. Menu name: "L'Imperiale." Nutritional characteristic: "apply directly to arteries" - but worth every bite. Then it was off to Mont Cesare to work it off. |
Mont Cesare has a number of Fritz Wiessner routes on it, and we chose a 5.6 called Le Valse to move us from the lower tier of cliffs to one of several upper areas, this one named the Champs d'Elysees. There we set our sites first on Voie de Fritz (5.8), which features an opening segment of arching corner crack (can't ever escape without at least one!) followed by some chimneying and general wallowing around. On the right, I heave a sigh of relief as I top out on the corner crack section and spread 'em for the camera, while trying to figure out how to get up into the chimney. Below, I'm properly stuck into it now. Someone call Roto-rooter. |
We continued with Voie de Turner (a pretty crack line - guidebook 5.3, but I would have said a bit harder). R.L. then turned on his jets just a tad to lead Magnum (5.8+) a tough crack with the start recently made more difficult by broken holds, according to one french-accented local. I tried a variation on the start to Voie de Fritz called Fritz Direct (5.8), which led into another route called The Ritz (5.7). The Ritz splits off from Fritz Direct with a hand traverse up and right on bad feet, before moving to easier ground. I blew the footwork and ended up having to hang and shake out before finishing the route. Spicy! Once down, we thought we'd be abstemious and have dinner in town, but we lucked into an unbelievably rich and delicious cassoulet, loaded with white beans, duck, pork and homemade sausage. The perfect vehicle for Boreal lager. Ahhhhhh! |
The next morning found us at Mount King, where R.L. aimed me at the 5.9 first pitch of L'Imperiale (same name as the breakfast item on the Edelweiss' menu. Is it fate?). Here I am during one of multiple up and down climbs around the crux. I ended up hanging on it finally, only to discover that the move isn't so hard, provided you have the nerve to crank your feet up high enough before you go. Damn! |
Internal monolog #2: "You're kidding, right?" |
Internal monolog #3: "Bring up the clean underwear, please." |
Internal monolog #1: "What? Up there?" |
R.L. took point for the second pitch, and led us to the ledge at the base of Crown (5.8+). My turn again. |
The line of Crown describes a backward "c," arcing up and right, then curving back left under an overhang to an alcove the size of a dwarf's coffin, and then guns straight for the top. You can climb the route as one pitch, but only at the price of nasty rope drag, and the alcove provides a remarkable, one-butt-cheek belay station. On the left, a look up at my overhanging right cheek (good thing it's not a closeup!). Below, the view down the pitch - well worth the delicate manoever needed to swap leads without R.L. stepping on a certain key part of my anatomy. |
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Summer Climbing North America - 2002 page 2 |
July 17-22. On the road again. Destination, the Adirondacks and the Laurentians. Wednesday, July 17 was a driving day, pushing a little rented Galant north to Keene, N.Y. Not a bad car, but it could have used the turbocharger from my Passat. Road music was the radio plus a handfull of CDs from a Wallmart bargain bin. The hands down winner was Santana's "Supernatural," which I could (and we did) listen to over and over. The destination in Keene was a rendezvous with R.L. Stolz, long-time climbing mentor and partner. For this trip, I made him promise not to tell jokes while I was leading, and he stuck to his word - for the most part. Thursday, July 18 was scheduled for climbing in the Dacks and a night drive, but thunderstorms blocked us. We ended up spending the morning playing with aid gear in R.L.'s garage/gear depot/home climbing gym. Finally, I know what a "fifi hook" is. After lunch, we sadddled up the Mitsubishi and headed north, passing through Montreal and on to the small, pretty town of Val David. R.L. had climbed here before, and steered us to the Edelweiss, a nice looking inn that he had previously seen, but not visited. We didn't bring camping gear, and the plan was to stay at the Edelweiss one night, then move to a cheaper no-tell motel for subsequent days. Turns out, however, that the Edelweiss has a pool, plus a restaurant that would earn stars even in New York. And they responded to our request for separate beds by pulling apart and remaking the European-style paired twins of what looked like the honeymoon suite. Do I have to say that we ended up staying there the whole time? |
R.L. led through and snapped a couple of nice shots of me on the final pitch. |
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And the view from the top was more than worth the price of admission. |
A rap to the deck put us down in time for a quick run up Sceptre (5.8+), a single pitch hand crack with a cool, tenous traverse above. It required a hang past the crux for me to finish, which didn't diminish the quality of the route, although it suitably deflated my ego! A paddle in the pool finished the day, and our last dinner at the Edelweiss lived up to its predecessors. I think they may possibly serve the best chocolate mousse I've ever had. |
We spent the first half of the following day diddling around on a local crag some miles north of Val David that an acquaintance had mentioned to R.L. Neither one of us was bright enough to copy the name off the sign, but it was "Jean Somebody-or-other's Parc d'Escalade". We got in a bunch of fun short pitches before heading off on the long drive back south to Keene. Shots below. (No guidebook means no route names and no grades - sorry!) |
R.L.'s wife Karen provided us with a feast upon arrival and the following day allowed time for one more route before I had to make the drive back down to NYC. (On a check-in call, my wife advised me that our older daughter was down with chickenpox, and I seriously considered just bailing out and heading for Yosemite, but....) |
We picked Overture, on the Washbowl cliff, for our swansong. Here's a shot of the Washbowl from the road. |
R.L. pointed us at the 5.8 first pitch of Overture's adjacent route, Prelude, rather than the 5.9+ first pitch of Overture itself, saying that Prelude was the more interesting choice. I was more than happy to go along with that, as I tied in to lead. Here I am, looking ready to pee in my pants at any moment. |
And just below the crux on pitch one. |
Two small nuts (WC rock #1 and BD stopper #3) provide the pro for a wild step out and around an arete on pitch 3 |
The Mellor guidebook calls this pitch the most exposed in the Dacks, and here's R.L., taking due note. The moves in this final section are wild. Around the arete to the left..... (Yes, I know R.L. is looking right in the shot below, but he's just looking for a key handhold.) |
...then stem wide left and move up and left to a ramp that slopes down into a deep "v" notch in the cliff. Heave a sigh of relief for the stonker bolt provided. |
Catch your breath, balance and courage, and tiptoe down and left along the ramp, which gets progressively narrower and steeper while the gulf yawns below... |
When you've shuffled far enough that the opposite side of the notch is in range, plant your feet on what's left of the ramp and allow your upper body to fall out across the gap. (Yes, I mean it!) Catch whatever holds offer themselves on the far side and step across. Yipes!! Here's R.L. safely across the gap and cleaning the final piece for our trip. You can see the remains of the ramp stairstepping down the far wall, behind his right shoulder. |
Santana kept me company one more time on the long drive south, together with memories of a great trip. Thanks to R.L. for company, advice, support, logistics... and not stepping on my groin in that dwarf coffin belay on the second pitch of Crown. Hope to see you again next year! |
R.L.'s smile says, "That did not suck." Amen. |
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