Furry Murry

So I realize this is a long time coming, and my apologies. Life has been a little crazy what with moving to DC, starting school back up, and all that jazz.

My summer in B-town ended with probably the most spectacular send off my friends and the mountains could have possible given me: a few days on the Diamond. Glorious.

The excursion started as a private affair with Miss Jennifer Sauer. On Tuesday, August 12, we hiked up the Longs Peak Trail into the cirque below the diamond, and stayed at “the Hilton” – one of many enhanced natural bivy sites near Chasm Lake (i.e. massive overhanging boulders with man-made rock walls around them, quite cozy). The next morning our “alpine start” was a bit delayed – we didn’t start the forty five minute hike to the wall until about 5:30 – which meant we ended up behind the two other parties on the Diamond that day.

We had chosen to forego the most popular route on the Diamond, the Casual Route (also the easiest), in favor of Yellow Wall to Forest Finish. The idea being that it was a) better quality and more sustained in difficulty, and b) less likely to be clogged with other climbers. Unfortunately for us, one of the parties that snaked past us as we jealously clung to our sleeping bags was also planning to do this route. We opted instead to climb D7 to Forest Finish, thinking the separate beginning of our route would separate us out by the time we merged back together.

It was a fantastic day in the mountains, the climbing was delightful, the air crisp, and temperatures were perfect, until the sun left us. Since I’m covered in fur and body fat, getting cold is usually not too much of a problem; not so for Jen. Suffice it to say that by the last few pitches she was not having what we in the industry would call “a good time.” Nonetheless, we onsighted every pitch (including the last pitch of wet, dirty 5.10).

The day was not over, however. When we rapped back to Broadway Ledge, sonofabitch: Jen discovered that one of her tennis shoes was missing, probably dragged off by a pesky marmot. Now, for those of you out there who don’t climb, let me tell you that after your feet have spent an entire day in a pair of climbing shoes there isn’t a hobo in this world you wouldn’t kill for some comfy clogs. Poor girl had to finish the North Chimney rappels and hike back to camp in one climbing shoe and one running shoe.

That evening came the real treat. Adam, Arnold, Cass, and Angela all hiked up to join us for a little party in the boulderfield. They even brought a twelve pack of brews between them!

Cass and I got another moderately early alpine start, which means we were the last party to start up the North Chimney. No worries there, as we climb fast and weren’t too concerned that anybody else would by getting on our route: Ariana 5.12a. She’s a beautimous finger crack straight up the middle of the Obelisk formation on the Diamond. Definitely one of the most stunning lines on the face.

We swung leads, and I took the first pitch so that Cass would get the sharp end on the crux 5.12 pitch. People often say you should not be intimidated by Ariana if you aren’t a 5.12 trad climber, and I agree. The crux pitch contains a number of fixed stoppers, and no single move is 5.12. That being said, the crux pitch is damn hard; sustained 5.11 climbing for over one hundred feet. Cass got his game on and sent that bad boy onsight (no falls, first attempt). His onsight psyched me up enough to follow it cleanly (no falls), albeit desperately and by the skin of my teeth.

I had the next pitch: 140′ of 5.11b/c and, as we learned, no gimme either. Multiple 5.11 cruxes separated by sustained climbing, with few decent rests, turned out to demand a little more than I had to give. At the final crux – a small roof – I reached in desperation for a hand jam but slumped, defeated, onto the rope.
After a couple more tries and falls I pulled through and finished to the ledge. I looked down and saw that despite having run it out moderately well between placing protection, I had nothing left on my harness but a couple of stoppers!

Cass took us the anchors on the final pitch, where we topped out before the other parties who had given us shit for our lazy start time. A quick celebration, mandatory photos, and 9 rappels put us back on the ground.

We all met back up at our bivy site, packed up, waited out a thunderstorm complete with grappel, and started the six miles back down to the car. In an act of selfless gentility, Adam gave Jen one of his shoes (we never found it after the devilish marmot incident) and hiked down in one trail runner and one flip flop! What a guy!

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