Hiking and climbing in Colorado - Day 8 of 8
This was our last full day in Colorado, tomorrow we would fly back to the east coast. There was still so many places to see, but we decided to go climbing in Eldorado Canyon, located in Eldorado Springs just south of Boulder.
We packed up camp, and made the half hour drive to Eldorado Springs from the Peak to Peak Highway. Eldorado Springs was much smaller than I had imagined, it was just a few houses along a dirt road. Where the dirt road ended was the entrance to Eldorado Canyon State Park. Eldorado Canyon wasn't what I had imagined also. I've heard so much about it, I thought it would be much bigger than it was in reality. It wasn't really a canyon either, at least not what a canyon looked like in my mind.
I've never been to Eldorado Canyon before, but I've been warned that the rating here is pretty stiff. To be safe, I picked a classic beginners route Calypso (5.6 3 pitches) to test the water. If I felt good on it, then I planned try something harder. Calypso was a popular route, when we got to its base there was already a guy leading the first pitch, and two other guys appeared to be waiting at the base. Megan and I patiently got in line. As a way to strike up a conversation, I asked the one of the guys at the base if they were waiting to climb Calypso. They glanced at each other and replied no, they were not. I was a bit surprised, but since they insisted that I should climb next, I started to rack up much sooner than I expected. Then the party already on Calypso called down and told me that they were rappelling after the first pitch. I noted with satisfaction that Megan and I always had good luck getting on popular and busy routes that we planned to climb. Red Rocks, Squamish, Flatirons, Longs Peak, we never had to climb behind anyone.
I tied in and started on Calypso, taking the easier 5.5 variation start to get up to a crack in a dihedral. Unfortunately I had forgotten my camera in my backpack, so there was no record of my heroic effort on Calypso. Which is just as well, that camera would have slowed me down anyway. A party of two older ladies from Denver had arrived and waited patiently behind us. There were a few tricky moves right at the start of the dihedral. The crack was worn smooth by the climbing traffic, my sweaty hands just couldn't get a very secure grip on the rock. So I spent quite a bit of time placing gear.
Here I should pause for a second to tell you a little about myself as a climber. I am a very... ummmm... cautious climber. And by "cautious", I mean "scared". Especially falling, I hate the feeling of falling. For those of you who don't climb, you think that's a good thing, right? I mean, isn't falling while climbing a bad thing? Well, not always. When there are well placed gears to protect you, falling is often pretty safe. But to me, I just don't like the feeling of falling. Even when I have strong bolts to protect me (sport climbing), I still avoid falling as much as I can, which means I never pushed myself close to my physical climbing limit. On trad (traditional climbing), I place gear whenever I'm not feeling very solid or when I'm about to go into a hard section. And if I have any doubts about the gear I just placed, I would place more piece(s) to backup the first. So the amount of gear I place is proportional to how scared I feel.
Here I was, not 20 feet off the ground, and I was already placing three pieces of gear that were close enough to touch each other. So of course the going was slow. I finally placed enough gear between me and the ground to make me feel confident, then I laybacked on some small crimpers with sweaty hands, and got past the tricky section. The next 30 feet eased up a little, but not by much. Then I came to a small overhang in the dihedral. The original route traversed right under the overhang then followed a right leaning dihedral up to the belay for a 5.6 finish. There was a 5.8 variation that pulled directly over the overhang. I took one look at the overhang and decided that I was to follow the 5.6 finish. Like I said, I'm a... cautious climber. I placed two pieces before the overhang, made the short traverse to the right by underclinging the overhang, and ended at a stance at the end of the overhang that was a bit strenuous because of the undercling. I thought about forgoing placing any gear at this point and climb to a better stance, but then I thought better of it, and fiddled in something at the end of the traverse. I was very glad that I did stop to place gear, because the next section was a combination of laybacking and undercling following the right leaning dihedral, felt pretty desperate for a just 5.6. By the time I found another semi-good stance to place gear, I was already 15 feet above my last piece. Some more tricky moves (and more time spent placing gear), I made it to the belay for the first pitch with much relief. Man! That was a hard 5.6. By comparison, Deidre (5.8) on the Apron in Squamish didn't have anything as hard as the pitch I had just climbed. I felt a little bit of apprehension about the next pitch.
I brought Megan up to the anchor, and she said she thought the pitch was a little scary even on toprope. That made me feel better, It seemed that I didn't get all scared just on a super easy 5.6. Megan and I were supposed to swap leads, but considering how stiff the first pitch was, and Megan's finger haven't completely healed yet, we decided it was best if I lead the second pitch as well. The two older ladies behind us have already started on the first pitch below me, they would probably catch up with me soon. But since I was close to the anchor, I wasn't going to take any chances by moving too quickly and make a mistake. The second pitch started with a slightly overhanging crack, but at least I could plug in as much gear as I want to, which was exactly what I did. I spent a long time below the small overhang fiddling with gear placement, getting pumped in the process. Finally, I got three pieces between me and the anchor, and pulled over the small overhang in a blink of an eye. The moves were easy, I just psyched myself out.
The rest of the pitch was slabby and easy, but I climbed carefully and slowly, looking around to make sure I was on route, stopping to place gear at regular intervals. Finally I made it to a big loose ledge that can almost be called a gully. This was logically the place for a belay station. But I looked around and scratched my head: there were just no placements within 10 feet to build a solid anchor. Sure there were a few large sandy huecos, but nothing on my rack save for the biggest cam would fit in them. And even then I didn't trust that placement 100%. But if I climb higher in the gully, I know the rope drag would just be horrible, not to mention that the rope would probably knock something loose and sent it flying toward Megan. After much fiddling and scrambling about, I finally built an anchor that consisted of the above mentioned cam in a heuco, a sling-through hourglass about 10 feet left of the max cam, a red tricam above the hourglass, and my solid stance on the ledge.
Of course, this epic anchor building took quite a while, during which the two older ladies from Denver were debating whether they should climb the 5.8 variation just to pass me. When I finally brought Megan up to the belay she said I need to work on building anchors faster.
So we were at the second pitch, now what? I didn't plan to climb the third pitch from the beginning, because my beta suggested this pitch was vegetated and loose, not a pleasant climb. From the beta I thought that you could "scramble" to climber's right and rappel from two bolts on a 5.8 nearby. But now that I was standing on this ledge, I wasn't sure if I was in the right place. The "scramble" to the right looked rather hard and not well protected at all, I was wondering if I had gone off route. No matter, if I remembered correctly, you could also scramble climber's left along a ledge to the anchor for a 5.10 nearby. I assumed that anchor would have bolts for rappelling, but turned out my assumption was wrong.
To make a long story short, basically we made the scramble up the gully and the traverse across the ledge into two short pitches. There was a couple climbing on the 5.10, so I asked them if there was a rap anchor there, and the guy answered in the negative. I was really confused, until he told me that it was a walk off. A walk-off? I never considered this as an option since we were two pitches up on a cliff, but sure enough, the ledge connected with a trail that took us to the base of the cliff.
We coiled the ropes and hiked the trail back to our backpacks at the base of the cliff, but not before I accidentally set off a huge (and I do mean HUGE!) boulder on the edge of the hiking trail when I was trying to crawl over a big pine tree that had fallen across the trail. I took that as a sign and decided I wasn't going to climb anything else for the day. Since it was our last day in Colorado, we had other things to take care of anyway.
We left Eldorado Canyon and drove to Boulder, where we picked up some food (including cranberry walnut scones of course) from Wild Oats for tonight's dinner and for the flight home tomorrow. We never wanted to be at the mercy of the Milwaukee airport food court again. We also picked up some Fat Tire Amber Ale for Terence because he said he'd trade his soul to me for some Fat Tire.
After eating our dinner in little park just under the Flatirons, we went to the Boulder REI so I could get rid of the extra white gas that we haven't used. You can't transport fuel on an airplane, and it's hazardous and environmentally unsound to just dump it in the trash. We picked up a few extra items from REI while we were there, reorganized and repacked our gear in the parking lot, then slept in the van for our last night in Colorado.
Until next time, goodbye, Colorado!
We packed up camp, and made the half hour drive to Eldorado Springs from the Peak to Peak Highway. Eldorado Springs was much smaller than I had imagined, it was just a few houses along a dirt road. Where the dirt road ended was the entrance to Eldorado Canyon State Park. Eldorado Canyon wasn't what I had imagined also. I've heard so much about it, I thought it would be much bigger than it was in reality. It wasn't really a canyon either, at least not what a canyon looked like in my mind.
I've never been to Eldorado Canyon before, but I've been warned that the rating here is pretty stiff. To be safe, I picked a classic beginners route Calypso (5.6 3 pitches) to test the water. If I felt good on it, then I planned try something harder. Calypso was a popular route, when we got to its base there was already a guy leading the first pitch, and two other guys appeared to be waiting at the base. Megan and I patiently got in line. As a way to strike up a conversation, I asked the one of the guys at the base if they were waiting to climb Calypso. They glanced at each other and replied no, they were not. I was a bit surprised, but since they insisted that I should climb next, I started to rack up much sooner than I expected. Then the party already on Calypso called down and told me that they were rappelling after the first pitch. I noted with satisfaction that Megan and I always had good luck getting on popular and busy routes that we planned to climb. Red Rocks, Squamish, Flatirons, Longs Peak, we never had to climb behind anyone.
I tied in and started on Calypso, taking the easier 5.5 variation start to get up to a crack in a dihedral. Unfortunately I had forgotten my camera in my backpack, so there was no record of my heroic effort on Calypso. Which is just as well, that camera would have slowed me down anyway. A party of two older ladies from Denver had arrived and waited patiently behind us. There were a few tricky moves right at the start of the dihedral. The crack was worn smooth by the climbing traffic, my sweaty hands just couldn't get a very secure grip on the rock. So I spent quite a bit of time placing gear.
Here I should pause for a second to tell you a little about myself as a climber. I am a very... ummmm... cautious climber. And by "cautious", I mean "scared". Especially falling, I hate the feeling of falling. For those of you who don't climb, you think that's a good thing, right? I mean, isn't falling while climbing a bad thing? Well, not always. When there are well placed gears to protect you, falling is often pretty safe. But to me, I just don't like the feeling of falling. Even when I have strong bolts to protect me (sport climbing), I still avoid falling as much as I can, which means I never pushed myself close to my physical climbing limit. On trad (traditional climbing), I place gear whenever I'm not feeling very solid or when I'm about to go into a hard section. And if I have any doubts about the gear I just placed, I would place more piece(s) to backup the first. So the amount of gear I place is proportional to how scared I feel.
Here I was, not 20 feet off the ground, and I was already placing three pieces of gear that were close enough to touch each other. So of course the going was slow. I finally placed enough gear between me and the ground to make me feel confident, then I laybacked on some small crimpers with sweaty hands, and got past the tricky section. The next 30 feet eased up a little, but not by much. Then I came to a small overhang in the dihedral. The original route traversed right under the overhang then followed a right leaning dihedral up to the belay for a 5.6 finish. There was a 5.8 variation that pulled directly over the overhang. I took one look at the overhang and decided that I was to follow the 5.6 finish. Like I said, I'm a... cautious climber. I placed two pieces before the overhang, made the short traverse to the right by underclinging the overhang, and ended at a stance at the end of the overhang that was a bit strenuous because of the undercling. I thought about forgoing placing any gear at this point and climb to a better stance, but then I thought better of it, and fiddled in something at the end of the traverse. I was very glad that I did stop to place gear, because the next section was a combination of laybacking and undercling following the right leaning dihedral, felt pretty desperate for a just 5.6. By the time I found another semi-good stance to place gear, I was already 15 feet above my last piece. Some more tricky moves (and more time spent placing gear), I made it to the belay for the first pitch with much relief. Man! That was a hard 5.6. By comparison, Deidre (5.8) on the Apron in Squamish didn't have anything as hard as the pitch I had just climbed. I felt a little bit of apprehension about the next pitch.
I brought Megan up to the anchor, and she said she thought the pitch was a little scary even on toprope. That made me feel better, It seemed that I didn't get all scared just on a super easy 5.6. Megan and I were supposed to swap leads, but considering how stiff the first pitch was, and Megan's finger haven't completely healed yet, we decided it was best if I lead the second pitch as well. The two older ladies behind us have already started on the first pitch below me, they would probably catch up with me soon. But since I was close to the anchor, I wasn't going to take any chances by moving too quickly and make a mistake. The second pitch started with a slightly overhanging crack, but at least I could plug in as much gear as I want to, which was exactly what I did. I spent a long time below the small overhang fiddling with gear placement, getting pumped in the process. Finally, I got three pieces between me and the anchor, and pulled over the small overhang in a blink of an eye. The moves were easy, I just psyched myself out.
The rest of the pitch was slabby and easy, but I climbed carefully and slowly, looking around to make sure I was on route, stopping to place gear at regular intervals. Finally I made it to a big loose ledge that can almost be called a gully. This was logically the place for a belay station. But I looked around and scratched my head: there were just no placements within 10 feet to build a solid anchor. Sure there were a few large sandy huecos, but nothing on my rack save for the biggest cam would fit in them. And even then I didn't trust that placement 100%. But if I climb higher in the gully, I know the rope drag would just be horrible, not to mention that the rope would probably knock something loose and sent it flying toward Megan. After much fiddling and scrambling about, I finally built an anchor that consisted of the above mentioned cam in a heuco, a sling-through hourglass about 10 feet left of the max cam, a red tricam above the hourglass, and my solid stance on the ledge.
Of course, this epic anchor building took quite a while, during which the two older ladies from Denver were debating whether they should climb the 5.8 variation just to pass me. When I finally brought Megan up to the belay she said I need to work on building anchors faster.
So we were at the second pitch, now what? I didn't plan to climb the third pitch from the beginning, because my beta suggested this pitch was vegetated and loose, not a pleasant climb. From the beta I thought that you could "scramble" to climber's right and rappel from two bolts on a 5.8 nearby. But now that I was standing on this ledge, I wasn't sure if I was in the right place. The "scramble" to the right looked rather hard and not well protected at all, I was wondering if I had gone off route. No matter, if I remembered correctly, you could also scramble climber's left along a ledge to the anchor for a 5.10 nearby. I assumed that anchor would have bolts for rappelling, but turned out my assumption was wrong.
To make a long story short, basically we made the scramble up the gully and the traverse across the ledge into two short pitches. There was a couple climbing on the 5.10, so I asked them if there was a rap anchor there, and the guy answered in the negative. I was really confused, until he told me that it was a walk off. A walk-off? I never considered this as an option since we were two pitches up on a cliff, but sure enough, the ledge connected with a trail that took us to the base of the cliff.
We coiled the ropes and hiked the trail back to our backpacks at the base of the cliff, but not before I accidentally set off a huge (and I do mean HUGE!) boulder on the edge of the hiking trail when I was trying to crawl over a big pine tree that had fallen across the trail. I took that as a sign and decided I wasn't going to climb anything else for the day. Since it was our last day in Colorado, we had other things to take care of anyway.
We left Eldorado Canyon and drove to Boulder, where we picked up some food (including cranberry walnut scones of course) from Wild Oats for tonight's dinner and for the flight home tomorrow. We never wanted to be at the mercy of the Milwaukee airport food court again. We also picked up some Fat Tire Amber Ale for Terence because he said he'd trade his soul to me for some Fat Tire.
After eating our dinner in little park just under the Flatirons, we went to the Boulder REI so I could get rid of the extra white gas that we haven't used. You can't transport fuel on an airplane, and it's hazardous and environmentally unsound to just dump it in the trash. We picked up a few extra items from REI while we were there, reorganized and repacked our gear in the parking lot, then slept in the van for our last night in Colorado.
posted by Boer @ 9/24/2005
1 Comments:
At 9:21 AM,
Anonymous said…
Love your trip reports...and the photos are so captivating. Glad you had a good time. Thanks for sharing.
Alyce
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