The Three Mudskateers

Last year the Trashman and I had climbed Kor's Finger of Fate route on the Titan, the patriarch Fisher Tower. That route scared the hell out of me, but that was more than a year ago and the memories had faded significantly. So much so that I also wanted to climb King Fisher, but not so much that I wanted to lead every pitch. We needed another iron basher...

A few weeks after the Trashman broached the subject of King Fisher we went to a very entertaining slide show given by the father of modern aid climbing, Jim "The Bird" Bridwell. Coincidentally, Andy "The Android" Blaylock also showed up. I had met Andy last year as he was a partner of Dr. Offwidth. I had climbed with the Doctor and the Droid a few times and had always felt a bit out of place among these 5.11 leaders, but thoroughly enjoyed their company and their uncanny ability to haul me up routes for which I was way overmatched. I had never climbed with just Andy though and never on an aid route, but now seemed to be the time.

Andy reminds me of Dudley Moore, only slightly taller. Andy talks exactly like Dudley Moore. "Bill, I'm really pysched for King Fisher," he would excitedly tell me on the phone and I couldn't help but think about Dudley Moore as Arthur in the movie by the same name. One distinctive difference between Dudley and Andy is that the latter is lean and ripped. Having twice the bulk and half the power, I was glad this was mostly an aid climb. I can't keep up with the Droid on free terrain.

The Droid immediately jumped at the suggestion and called me the next day to get the trip on the calendar. Two weeks later we were hammering west in my newly acquired, but well used, Saab 9000 Turbo. Normally a six hour drive, we made the trip in 5 1/2 hours with a dinner stop. The Droid liked to drive flat out, setting the cruise on 85.

George:

I thought about running after the Trashman to call him back. Giving up before we even got started. I suggested this to Andy, but he thought we should hike up there anyway and just see what happens. We finished packing up and hit the trail.

Now that I was committed to going up there, I wanted to make a play for the route. George could hold them off for awhile and if I arrived soon enough we may still claim the route. I started off at a brisk pace. Fifteen minutes into the hike, I spotted the other team way ahead on the trail. At this point I felt I had a real chance to arrive close behind the competing party. I shifted into my highest gear and powered up the steep, loose ground, taking a more direct route and got ahead of the other team before they even knew I was behind them.

When I reached George at the base of the route, sweating profusely with aching legs and heaving lungs, I wondered if I had forgotten what I was racing for. I was so caught up in the race to the prize, that I didn't fully consider if I actually wanted to win the prize. Having another team claim the route would be an ideal excuse to try something shorter, easier, safer, less frightening. I'd have an excellent excuse for not going up. But now...I had no excuse except fear and I wasn't ready to voice this to my partners. Not yet.

The first pitch was straight forward, except that many of the bolts lacked hangers. No problem, I'll just hook wires over them. Problem: All the Droid's stoppers have yellow paint liberally splashed over the bottom of the stoppers, gluing the stopper to the cable. I only found a few stoppers which I could slide up the wire. I collected these special stoppers on a single biner and used them for hooking hangerless bolts. I had to back clean a few of these to avoid running out.

Eventually I got to a section with a missing bolt. True to the guide, it did look possible to free climb past this section by pinching pebbles stuck in the mud. That is, if the pebbles stayed stuck in the mud. I briefly considered a free attempt, but oh so briefly. I pulled out the cheater stick, two tent poles that could be attached together. I only needed the two foot length, but had to attach a wired stopper to the stick in order to hook the hangerless bolt.

I tried not to concentrate on the terrible shape of most of the bolts. Heck, I was only putting body weight on these suckers and they have held many climbers before me. But of course, bolts do pull, which is why I needed the cheater sticker the first place.

Once at the top of the bolt ladder, I left my aiders and cheater stick behind. I started up the second pitch which was a fun, sandy, runout 5.8 chimney. I really enjoy this type of climbing. I found this chimney to be easier than the 5.8 chimney on Ancient Art because it isn't as steep.

The belay at the top of this pitch is simply incredible. A foot wide notch that plunged over 150 feet on both sides. I was now on the ridge proper. It had taken me an hour to lead the first two pitches. I fix the ropes, hauled the bag (it got stuck in the chimney of course) and reclined in the sun to admire the view.

Andy jugged up and made me feel like greased lightning as he took over two hours to lead the next 125 feet. It was the technical crux of the climb and had the only hammering on the whole route: six pin placements, but the Droid looked very tentative.

Andy's lead turned out to be tricky and involved a number of piton stacks. The Droid is a firm believer and ardent practitioner of "bounce testing." He would bounce up and down on most of his placements. It looked hilarious - little Dudley Moore up there splayed out in a frog position bouncing up and down like he was trying to jump up the rock but, failing to stick to the red mud, would crash back down.

After taking numerous photos, the Trashman jugged up and kept me company at the belay. This is certainly one of the joys of a three man climbing team. Having George along didn't slow us up at all and just added to the fun. Plus he didn't steal any leads away from us, though I'm not sure this is a good thing on the Fishers.

"Smashing lead, old man," I told Andy upon reaching his stance. "It was a bloody `ard lead."

Andy's belay was a small stance about a foot deep and two feet long poised right on the sharp Northeast Ridge. From here the route went straight up, dead vertical to the summit capstone roof. The capstone is a different layer of sandstone of much higher quality and hence it hadn't eroded as much as the rest of the tower, creating a three to ten foot roof that completely encircled the top of the tower.

The overhang that blocked passage to the summit was problematical. It jutted out horizontally only about three feet, but I had to move around the corner to the left at the same time. Dangling, bat like, underneath this rotten roof from pins hammered into incipient cracks and bent ninety degrees, I stretch way to my left and struggle endlessly to place solid cams in a cylindrical crack. The opening is small, but the insides are large. The only way to get a placement is to place the cam right at the edge of the crumbling crack. Yikes!

Once over the roof, the climbing eases, but is not over. Another short bolt ladder and then twenty feet of vertical, but blocky 5.6 climbing. My rope drag is becoming a problem and I leave my cheater stick behind. Finally, I crest the ridge.

The pitch ended on a large, comfortable ledge and I fixed the ropes and relaxed. Andy soon joined me and continued on up a short steep wall and then up an 5.8 offwidth which thankfully only lasted for a few awkward feet. This put on basically on the summit where we could walk about unroped. The "tippy top", as my friend refers to summits, was located atop a ten foot 5.7 boulder.

I bouldered onto the summit and discovered a relatively new summit register. It was installed on May 28th of the year and we were the 4th ascent since that time. As I soaked up the incredible panorama of the Fisher Towers, I heard an eerie drumming sound. It was almost as if we had finally violated the sacred summit and the Indians were getting restless. What fate would befall us upon descending?

This drumming continued incessantly as we performed the scarier, overhanging rappels. It continued on the dark, confusing hike back to camp. We had only one headlamp and lost the trail at one point. The drumming continued through dinner and we feared it would keep us awake all night. Finally a troop of teenage, white boys pranced out of a slot canyon and eventually the pounding ceased.

After dinner the Droid asks me, "Are we going to get another early start tomorrow?" He was dead serious and I thought it was hilarious. Obviously, he is no alpinist. I smiled and said, "Don't you mean: 'Are we going to get another late start tomorrow?' " He smiled and I said yes.

The urge to pee, as it often does, drove me from my -40 degree bag the next morning. The temperature was about 40 degrees out. That gave me a comfortable 80 degree temperature range before I was supposed to get cold. What amazed the Trashman was that I wasn't sweating - even with the bag zipped. I thought it was warm and oh so comfortable. This bag is truly decadent.

A leisurely, no, a lazy breakfast in the parking lot under cloudless skies got out day off to a slow start. We didn't really have a plan for today, but I wanted another tower and choose the smallest of the Fishers: Lizard Rock.

Lizard Rock is only eighty feet tall and it sports two routes. The regular route (Entry Fee Route) is a scary 5.8+ and the other route (Leapin' Lizards Variation) is a scary 5.10-. The Trashman and I ambled over to try the former, while Andy sat in the parking lot and soaked up rays.

I led up the initial crack section and placed a cam. Above is some exciting, overhanging climbing where a crucial foothold appears to be a block of mud plastered on the face. Once above this section I traversed around to the right and had to make the final mantle move. The runout at this point is probably almost twenty feet and there was no possibility of any gear. I felt out the moves and, feeling confident, powered onto the summit.

From the top, I could see the Droid lounging in the parking lot. I called over: "Get your lazy butt over here if you want to climb this tower." George started to clean the route and I was concerned how he would get by the overhanging section and the final mantle with this weak wrist. Amazingly, he flashed the route in his tennis shoes!

After Andy joined us on top, we all descended back to the ground. I asked Andy if he wanted to try and lead Leapin' Lizards, but he declined on the basis of the manky and spare protection possibilities. Once again feeling confident, I volunteered to lead it.

This pitch starts out with a hand crack that quickly tapers to a finger crack and then disappears altogether into a mud wall impregnated with tiny stones. I put in loads of dicey gear in the mud crack and then faced the crux. The next piece was ten feet up: a bolt. The climbing to that bolt was very dicey face climbing via pebbles pinches and foot smears. I made it and clipped the bolt with a sigh of relief. The final section goes directly over the overhanging summit via big holds and protected by another bolt. Exciting! After all that climbing (two half pitches), we were certainly in need of a rest and decided to have lunch.

After lunch we went for a hike to scope out our next Fisher Tower objective. The Trashman and I have now climbed the two tallest towers, the shortest tower, and Ancient Art. The obvious next towers to do are Echo and Cottontail. Unfortunately, these towers seem to be considerably harder and scarier. We checked out West Side Story and Brer Rabbit on Cottontail, and Jagged Edge and Phantom Spirit on Echo. Andy is keen to do the Sundevil Chimney route on the Titan. This appears to be by far and away the most classic route at the Fisher Towers. Unfortunately it looks horrific and is rated A4 - no thank you!

We noticed a fixed rope one pitch up on the south side of Echo Tower on what appears to be a new route. We also saw some tat on the south side of Cottontail but it had to be the bail-off point. The route looks impossible without a truck load of bolts. There was also a fixed rope up the Jagged Edge route on Echo.

It was fun hiking around safely on the ground dreaming of scary adventures to come high up on the mud walls of the Fisher Towers, but these routes would have to wait. It was time to head home.

George: