What was your first climb in Eldorado Canyon?

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Patrick Oliver

Boulder climber

Fruita, Colorado

Jul 17, 2013 - 11:53am PT

One of my earlier climbs was to follow the master, Bob Culp, up
Grand Giraffe. I will never forget how smooth he was, how with
that long lean body he stepped left, half way up the second pitch,
and did those vertical balance moves..., and the actual crux
crack. He was the first person, really, to teach me that one could
find all sorts of hidden holds and tricks to solve some impossible-
looking section. He seemed to know the crack inside and out and
used little flakes far within that you could only feel for. He
didn't hesitate. He didn't whimper, as other climbers did. He did not
say much at all, just moved methodically, exactly upward, kind of the
way Pratt would, in tune with the rock, there for the pure pleasure
of climbing and not for any notice.... When later I became a strong
leader, gymnast, and such, I often repeated Grand Giraffe but
never could quite feel I had the mastery Bob did.... The name, by
the way, if I recall, was another of Layton's, a play on Grand Jorasses
(spelling). I loved Layton's names. I still think Guenese was his
mis-spelling of gneiss.... The rock had that gray look in places....

Jan

Mountain climber

Okinawa, Japan

Jul 17, 2013 - 12:11pm PT

It's true Pat, that we can't think of Eldorado without remembering Layton. I can remember beautiful spring days when the three of us were the only three people climbing there. For sure, we had the place to ourselves during the winter. It's hard to even imagine that now. Paradise lost.

goatboy smellz

climber

Nederland-GulfBreeze

Jul 17, 2013 - 12:26pm PT

One of those cracks next to Rincon, don't remember the name.

Patrick Oliver

Boulder climber

Fruita, Colorado

Jul 17, 2013 - 01:38pm PT

Ahhh, Jan. Yes. Life will never be the same, but Layton remains with
me. I see him daily. I laugh with him, talk with him still. We went
very deep, literally got in each other's psyches during those
psychedelic '60s. He is a part of us. I was thinking about all the
contributions and fundraisers and how many people helped him during
these last few years. I mean, even just to make some loose count in
my mind it was somewhere around $50,000., but I imagine more. The
fundraiser they did for me, well, that was very generous and raised
about $6000., but I sense whereas there would have been no end to
the help Layton would be given, there is a real and true
limit on how much I mean -- far far less, I think.
Layton and I joked that we were bottomless pits of need, but I have
never seen anything like the love people had for him. A couple of
weeks ago, right after the Memorial for Layton in Golden, I was
sitting here with my two young daughters, and suddenly tears started
flowing from my eyes. I had simply been thinking about how much I
loved Layton. I still keep that little scrap of paper he left on my
car in Eldorado one afternoon on which he wrote, "Oliver, see
you later today, can examine routes then and work on the walls
tomorrow." Doesn't that capture his spirit? I have been thinking
of late how many moderate routes he and I did around a lot of harder
ones. We walked all the way up one day to do Green Slab. It was
sunny with a lot of snow on the rock. The crux, normally 5.9, was
icy with snow patches and probably a grade harder than it should
have been. We wore sweaters. I think he had a light cagoule and his
red hat, those same gray knickers and knee-length socks, and Kronhoeffer
shoes.... I remember how he stemmed out on that difficult section. He
hoped he didn't slip on the ice. He was truly a master alpinist
and could climb icy rock. I will never forget how when Larry and I
got caught in that vicious snow storm on the Yellow Spur. We had
decided to wait it out on a stance. Layton came roaring up the
scree slope in dark, with Jack Turner his partner, and led the Dirty
Deed or whatever that west crack is called, and it was plastered with
ice and snow. I don't know how he did that, honestly. Go up there,
friends of Layton, and imagine in kletterschue climbing that pitch
all plastered with ice and snow. Impossible. One day Layton,
Dean Moore, and I made the first ascent of Grandmother's Challenge,
another colorful Layton name.... All those times he had me skip
school, so we could do some first ascent somewhere.... Yes,
I often think of him, speak to him. Layton, see you later today,
can examine routes then and work on the walls tomorrow.... Oliver.

Mark Hudon

Trad climber

Hood River, OR

Jul 17, 2013 - 01:43pm PT

I believe it was the direct start to the Bastille Crack in 1975.

I can't wait to climb there again in September.

Brokedownclimber

Trad climber

Douglas, WY

Topic Author's Reply - Jul 17, 2013 - 01:44pm PT

Pat-

I still recall first meeting you in Eldorado on a cold 1962 Winter day, along with Bob Culp, to do the Ruper. Sadly I was home on leave from the Army, in really rotten shape, and on my way to Ft. Dix, NJ, Brooklyn Army Terminal, a troopship to Bremerhaven, and Germany for 2 years. I couldn't climb the Ruper Crack at that time, and it ate at me for nearly 3 years. It became an obsession for me, and I finally climbed it with Steve Thompson sometime in Spring, 1965. Another memorable ascent of Ruper was in Spring 1981 with my GF Anne Carrier; we did the lower Ruper after work in the evening wherein I led the Ruper Crack and she led the traverse pitch; we made it down via Exit Stage Left to a pizza and beer in Boulder.

Patrick Oliver

Boulder climber

Fruita, Colorado

Jul 17, 2013 - 02:08pm PT

Crunch, Nothing important, but just to let you know the Eldorado rock
is not Dakota, rather Fountain, like the Flatirons. Some of the
rock in Eldorado, such as Rotwand Wall, is Lyons Formation. And of
course you have the quartzite of Supremacy Slab and Supremacy Crack.
It might be possible to find some little section of Dakota somewhere
in Eldorado. I have wondered at times if the Wind Tower has a
little Dakota in it, as its south wall seems like Dakota in places....

Rodger, I have almost a photographic memory for the zillion climbs
I've done, though a few seem not to have been recorded by my mind.
I remember doing the Diagonal 4th ascent with you, and you were
my belayer when I did Supremacy in spring 1965, but I do not
remember Ruper. I find it difficult to believe you were ever that
out of shape, but I guess sometimes we get that way. Barry Bates
used to walk up and down Generator Crack and, after a long layoff
couldn't do it one day, he told me.... So I guess it happens. But
I also can't imagine doing Ruper and not remembering Culp. Every
climb I did with him, I watched and studied and learned. He was
the master free climber. As I mentioned above, he and I did
Grand Giraffe, but I can't recall him on Ruper. As I sit here,
though, a memory seems to start to manifest... of him walking up
those moves of the crack.... If it's any solace, Larry fell of
Ruper one day. I had decided for some reason to belay at the start
of the crack. When he fell, he slid down, and his legs straddled
me. So I caught him by virtue of the location of my belay. Had
I not belayed there, I suspect he would have taken a very serious
fall and a great deal farther....

Patrick Oliver

Boulder climber

Fruita, Colorado

Jul 17, 2013 - 02:09pm PT

Mark Hudon in Eldorado. Wow, I wish I had been your partner.
One of the great ones...

Mark Hudon

Trad climber

Hood River, OR

Jul 17, 2013 - 02:14pm PT

Jeez, Pat, thanks, I went there with visions of you in my eyes all the time!

Patrick Oliver

Boulder climber

Fruita, Colorado

Jul 17, 2013 - 05:39pm PT

When I think about Eldorado I think about how many people I
and others have connected with, how a single exhilarating
climb can bring people together and then remains a memory that
unites them through the years. With some people I did countless
climbs, such as Larry Dalke, and with others it was a whole
lot of climbs, such as Layton. With some, such as Royal, it was
his yearly visit. Still others, well, one climb was that one
really good experience not to be forgotten.... I had so many young
kids, such as Christian, Roger Briggs, Eric Doub, Cam John.... who
listened to the pied pipe of the Patrick Oliver piper, and we
did one climb after another.... I often think of individuals
I climbed with who no longer are with us, such as Warren Blesser.
That was quite a story in and of itself, the day Larry, Rearick, and
I rescued Blesser off the Grand Giraffe, when he took a huge
leader fall, soared past his belayer, Tom Quinn, and crashed hands
and arms first into the wall. He broke both wrists in about
ten places each and smashed his head (which turned out to be only
a minor injury but at the time was very bloody and worried us).
Well, that's another story for another moment.

Brokedownclimber

Trad climber

Douglas, WY

Topic Author's Reply - Jul 18, 2013 - 06:57pm PT

Pat-

I recall hearing the stories about the massive Warren Bleser whipper, but I was away in Germany at the time...wearing a free green suit of clothing. The Grand Giraffe is not to be underestimated. I recall doing it with Bob Culp as well. The chimney/OW has really gained a reputation over the years, hasn't it? I think it was about 1966-67 that Bob and I climbed it; we were still driving and pulling pitons and wearing Kronhofer's.

Brokedownclimber

Trad climber

Douglas, WY

Topic Author's Reply - Jul 18, 2013 - 08:12pm PT

Pat-

Re: Our time on Ruper...somewhere in my "archives" (i.e. pile of junk)I may have about 5 minutes of 8 mm movies of that day in December 1962.

Patrick Oliver

Boulder climber

Fruita, Colorado

Jul 18, 2013 - 09:17pm PT

Wow, please find that stuff Rodger. I love that sort of
memorabilia.

I think Bob made it a regular practice to climb the Grand Giraffe and
took many of us up it. He made it a work of art, as he did every
boulder I watched him do.

I could tell the Bleser story (can't recall if it's spelled with
one "s" or two). Larry and I were kids, and one day after a climb
we were gazing up at the wall from the road, when the huge arc-ing
fall took place. I moved my eyes away for a split second and missed
the actual fall, but heard Larry say, "Did you see that?" I turned
my eyes again to where the climbers were, and Bleser suddenly was
far below his belayer, when a second before he had been rather far
above, at that last bulging section of the Giraffe crack. We told a
person on the road to run as fast as possible down and contact Dave
Rearick. Larry and I ran up the talus slope, climbed the west side
of the lower ramp, and I led both the short first pitch and tough second
pitch, in one long lead. As I pulled up to the square, slightly sloping
ledge at the top of the second pitch, with just my head
peeping over, there lay Warren. His belayer Tom Quinn had
lowered Warren to this precarious ledge. But it was a ledge.

Warrn was in great pain but smiled and said he was glad to see me.
He kind of half chuckled at the same time he agonized. He
held his forearms up in a position somewhere in front of his face,
as he lay on the ledge, somewhat on his back and somewhat curled up.
He held his forearms up in that position near his face
as though to elevate his clearly broken wrists. I got him anchored and
belayed Larry up, giving a little tension on the rope here and
there to speed his ascent. Very quickly the Rocky Mountain Rescue
Group arrived, ran up the talus, and Dave Rearick too arrived
at the start of the route. Everyone set driving speed records
through Boulder and out to Eldorado.

Larry and I pulled Rearick as he climbed speedily up the wall. Whenever
there was the slightest difficult move, Dave simply said, "Pull." We
got him up fast. Now, though, there were three of us on this
small ledge, too many. Tom Quinn rappelled to us, so it was
a very cramped, overcrowded place.

Jonathan Hough was at the bottom of the climb and wanted to come
up. He was the head of the rescue group at the time, but there
simply was not room for another. He seemed a bit miffed when we
said no to his request to come up. We tried to think of how to deal
with Warren's injuries, and later we would learn he broke both wrists
in about ten places each. It would take a great deal of surgery
to get those arms and wrists back into a state of repair. An
ugly, serious-looking head injury turned out to be nothing more
than a scratch, but it gushed blood and made us wonder if it was
the injury of most concern. Warren would not let us
touch him or try to clean any wound. He screamed if
we moved him even the tiniest bit. Very quickly it became apparent
it was best simply to lower him into the waiting hands of Hough
and the group below. Again and again, as we tied Warren in or
did anything, if we touched him, or in the smallest way flicked
a rope or leaned an arm or thigh against any part of him,
he let out another terrible scream. We hauled up a metal litter. With
Warren screaming in pain, we managed to get him into the litter. We
had little to no experience with litters or lowering. Quinn now
insisted he go down with the litter. So we hooked him with a sling to
the side of the litter and had a separate rope on him that
Rearick would belay. Larry and I each would hold a rope tied to one
end of the litter. This was not exactly right, because as soon as
Warren and the litter went over the edge, the litter tipped
downward and outward, and Warren was lying on his left side and
almost downward, horrified as he looked at all the exposure below.
Quinn ended up in a hang from his arms, as from a pullup bar, from
that side of the litter, about at Warren's waist. Both were tied
in and safe, but it was horribly airy and open to be lowered
virtually face down, and with Quinn below him in a dangle from
his arms. Fortunately no rope jammed, and we lowered this
circus affair into the care of the waiting Rescue Group.

Warren was a very likeable fellow and often came around my parents
house to see if I could climb. It made him somewhat irritated when
I introduced him to my parents as "Warren Bleser, the guy who
fell off the Grand Giraffe." I remember him looking into my young
teen eyes and saying, "How about, Warren Bleser, the guy who
climbed Mount McKinley." Warren soon after died on the North Face
of the Matterhorn.

Casey Bald

climber

lower refuse, NH

Jul 18, 2013 - 09:47pm PT

Blind Faith, I think it was the easiest hand crack to find after werks up and we climbed that after. Both amazing routes.

donini

Trad climber

Ouray, Colorado

Jul 18, 2013 - 10:13pm PT

My first climb (Bastille Crack) was in 1968....shooting for a last climb (Perilous Journey) in 2068.

Brokedownclimber

Trad climber

Douglas, WY

Topic Author's Reply - Jul 18, 2013 - 10:20pm PT

Pat-

You probably recall that Warren Bleser (only one "s" needed) was a certified Canadian Mountain Guide from the Lake Louise area?

Jonathan Hough was the best man, my first marriage, to Catherine Burnett (RIP).

Patrick Oliver

Boulder climber

Fruita, Colorado

Jul 19, 2013 - 12:17am PT

Rodger,
I did not know any of that. I think Jonathan was a competent
rescue man. He always seemed to be there, when they would
call me out, which they did often... even when I was not a member
of the rescue group. I wanted for a time to be a member of the
rescue group, but when I took the required first aid course, it
was taught by Jane Culp.... and Bob would come and sit in the back
of the classroom. I wanted to sit next to him and talk bouldering,
instead of pay attention to first aid. Thus I did not pass that class.
They finally realized my climbing skills made up for any lack in
first aid, and I could be a rope monkey, as needed.... Is Jonathan
still with us?

Patrick Oliver

Boulder climber

Fruita, Colorado

Jul 19, 2013 - 06:44am PT

I apologize for the times in this thread I have digressed.
The subject is the first climb we did, yet just to say the
word "Eldorado" triggers so many memories for me, arouses
such a variety of sensations, that pure exhilaration and
friendship. To Eldorado I attach in my very blood those
oot-ooty-oot pigeons, strong wind filled with smells of
pine, a scent of the white mountains to the west, that high
country great wind streams brought down through the canyon.

First impressions, of
course, are so vital and beautiful, and give us our keen sense
of the world. For a climber so lucky as to have made his young
home a canyon so brilliant and imaginative as Eldorado,
there are countless little autographs of the soul. The
snap of a carabiner. A freight train that roars through
tunnels of a mountain high and to the south. As I wrote in
another small piece, "Acquitting oneself well in a first attempt
at a leading role," the rope hangs down vertical rock. A
quiet goes inside its own softness to an inner stillness.

In Eldorado in spring, each hold is a new
incarnation of the world. About fifty climbs seem to fall into
that sense of the first climb. I have clear flashes of the
steep moves up the initial pitch of C'est La Vie, of which Larry
and I made the first ascent, a little step around right, out
of a tiny, shallow dihedral with a bent over, soft-iron piton
I placed and, at last visit decades later, is still there. Then,
a move or three higher, the lieback against that big hollow flake.

I remember my first lead (and climb) of the Bastille Crack. I went
about a hundred feet without protection up that dark, shadowy
north wall. I was under the strange notion one was
not supposed to place a piton unless at the verge of
a fall. It was such a wondrous surprise to find so many ready
hand and footholds. They were everywhere on that perfect sandstone.

I remember our first ascent of Tagger, in a frigid, eardrum-
piercing, nose and finger numbing, wind, the temperature
somewhere around zero or below. That day I had the small maroon
camera my parents gave me. I still have a few of those snapshots.
We climbed in our lightweight down jackets and hammered in
pitons.

There was Redguard Route, and I emphasize the word "red."
It seemed indeed there was the color red in the rock, as yellow,
green, orange, purple, white, black, and gray all joined the
visual palette. Pseudo-Sidetrack, a route given the strangest
name, indeed had some false sense about it. One could get lost.
Route finding was part of the essence of the Eldorado
experience. This route, like many in Eldorado, was simply a
land of holds on steep rock. Pseudo-Sidetrack follows
a long upward, leftward traverse above great drops. We moved
toward the sun, I recall, blinded somewhat by the glare of
the sky that afternoon....

Larry and I did our first climb with Layton in Eldorado. On a
wintry Thanksgiving day we made the first known ascent of
Calypso, that light-colored, tan sandstone, that shallow
dihedral up to an overhang, then a lovely, wide step or
two right, across smooth, near-white rock, and up a
steep slab.... The climb was of less interest than the tall man
who took us to the canyon that day. That was the beginning of
a lifelong friendship with a most amazing friend and probably
Colorado's greatest climber.

Always, there was the great wire, a steel cable, far
above our heads, where the aerialist Ivy Baldwin strolled
some 89 times. He last crossed that three hundred-foot high,
five hundred-foot long, wire on his 82nd birthday!
The whole canyon had a spirit of adventure to it, no matter the
climb, no matter the difficulty. Every Eldorado climb has an airy
sense about it, even today. And there is the roar of the river...,
which seems to thrust a person into the full effect of nature,
the reach to the next hold, how one positions the edge of a shoe,
aromas of lichen and air, pure exposure, a canyon where youth
was not wasted on the young, a sense of balance, and a sense of
the promise of so much unclimbed rock.