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Todd Gordon
Trad climber
Joshua Tree, Cal
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Jul 23, 2007 - 09:58pm PT
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TIMBER!
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Ed Hartouni
Trad climber
Livermore, CA
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Topic Author's Reply - Jul 23, 2007 - 11:50pm PT
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rereading this I am filled with glee and with terror simultaneously. There is something about trundling large rocks... and quite another being underneath.
Best quote goes to rgold: "The rest of the climb was uneventful."
no one who doesn't climb could understand that line!
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spyork
Social climber
A prison of my own creation
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Jul 24, 2007 - 12:24am PT
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Yikes Ed! I'm glad you're OK!
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Ed Hartouni
Trad climber
Livermore, CA
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Topic Author's Reply - Jul 24, 2007 - 12:31am PT
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Steve, my post is dated last year.. it was resurrected!
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tradmanclimbs
Ice climber
Pomfert VT
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Jul 24, 2007 - 10:11am PT
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1985 My first trip up Rojers Rock. 600ft of nice slab climbing directly out of the crystal clear waters of lake George NY. We are at a rap station on the top of the right side of the clif, We are both tied in to the tree and are just about to throw the ropes when the ledge we are standing on falls out from under us leaving us both hanging from the slings. This huge block the size of a car hood and about 18 inches thick is just tumbling down the cliff shearing off trees like matchsticks finally hitting the water with a humungus splash. Beer was consumed after that little adventure...
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Maysho
climber
Truckee, CA
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Jul 24, 2007 - 10:24am PT
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In 1981 I did a steep new route on the Southeast Face of Ranrapalca in Peru with Auggie Klein. We topped out on this hideous double-cornices-of-deep-powder snow type of knife edge ridge. Unable to go upward to the summit plateau and an easy descent down the standard north face route, we ended up rappeling down a steep slot on the north side. About half way down, I was rapping, Aug was down around a corner, when I saw an ice tower up near the top collapse. Rocks and ice chunks richocheted down the chute toward me and I grabed a hold and let go of the rope to get as low profile as I could. Amazingly I did not get hit by anything big enough to knock me off my hold. When the barrage ended, I breathed out in relief, then in horror watched my ropes came slithering down. A rock had chopped the rope through. Had I been hanging on the rope, I would have been a goner. For the next few hours we were in this strange mental state of doing our best to rap fast, staying calm, and accepting the fact that we could be wiped out at any moment. Nothing else fell, and we were able to do some other good routes that season.
Peter
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justthemaid
climber
Los Angeles
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Jul 24, 2007 - 10:57am PT
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Quote: "Four times I've had ropes chopped by rockfall, but by good fortune nothing big hit my partners or me."
Egads! 5th time could be the charm. You might want to consider retirement.
Mine's not as gripping as Tradmanclimbs having his entire belay ledge cut loose, but I did nearly get hit by a rock the size of a microwave at Tick Rock. I was tied into the belay anchor. All I could do was just scrunch in tight to the rock and pray. All kinds of sh#t is constantly breaking loose at that crag.
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justthemaid
climber
Los Angeles
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Jul 24, 2007 - 11:00am PT
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Quote: " ...That time on El Cap I thought it was over.... "
...and one time at band-camp....
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I'm hurtin . . .
Ice climber
land of cheese and beer
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Jul 24, 2007 - 11:13am PT
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Peter,
good Ranrapalca story, I was on it two weeks ago and also had to rap the N. Face when the weather went to crap. No shortage of stuff rolling down that face!
Devils Tower 2002, One Way Sunset. My buddy Dan was finishing the beautiful 2nd pitch of hands and fists. It seemed to me he was dinking around grunting and groaning while he was trying to get on the ledge. Next thing I know he kind of turns sideways, yells ROCK! and unloads this microwave sized block from his lap, directly above me!
As this thing picks up speed, coming right at me, it starts bouncing slightly side to side in the shallow dihedral so I start juking side to side to get the frequency and as I slide right it brushes my left shoulder. You can all imagine the crashing and booming as it went through the trees on the shoulder and then to the talus field below.
Story not quite over. Dan had his right hand laying across the ledge with his fingers in a crack at the back. This block he pulled off fell on his hand and cut him badly at the base of the wrist. We finally get to the med clinic in Sundance where they clean it and stitch it. BUT, about two weeks later he notices this knot in his forearm. They missed the fact that the tendon that pulls the thumb back was severed! So, after 3 more visits to surgeons, he's finally able to retract the thumb pretty well.
I got lots more Devils Tower ROCK! stories . . . maybe later.
Dave Rone
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taco bill
Trad climber
boulder, co
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Jul 24, 2007 - 12:44pm PT
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Reposted from a couple of years ago.
Here's an after rapping but still not safe story of how I started and outran a rockslide.
I had climbed a route on shirt tail peak in eldo and had rapped off from the summit to a point lower in the gully than I had started from. It was early spring, March maybe, and there was a little snow here and there keeping the ground muddy. There isn't any real trail up there and so, as is my custom in work and play, I was aiming for what appeared to be the path of least resistance.
About two thirds of the way up the gully, I started to mantle up onto a washing machine sized boulder whose attachment to the ground had become less robust with the melting snow. It became unhinged and pulled from the ground as if it were a ten year old's loose molar. I literally thought to myself as it began to roll over me "F*#k, I just died."
In a flash of pure survival instinct I managed to let go of the boulder and get turned around so that I could run down the screefield with an avalanche of boulders in hot pursuit. Running is probably an inaccurate term for the out of control rock skiing I was executing still adorned in my climbing shoes.
The next thing I saw was a huge fallen tree stretched across the gully that I knew there was no way I could avoid. So hoping for the best, I made one final leap and landed on both feet just short of the tree. I braced for the calvacade of rubble that I knew was careening toward me and when I felt nothing, turned to see the last of the rocks coming to a stop maybe twenty feet above me.
My partner who had been above me in the gully and had witnessed the whole thing later told me that he was pretty sure my first move had been a back handspring. I was able to limp out and managed to escape with only a deep bone bruise on my heel from the scree descent. My legs were completely black and blue and about three days later, I popped out a dime sized scab from my calf and drained about 25 mls of black tarry blood. I haven't been back to shirt tail since.
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mucci
Trad climber
The pitch of Bagalaar above you
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I love it when your on lead, and your belayer has no idea how much effort you just made not to knock a block or flake off.
They ask, "A little crumbly huh"
To which you reply "well if your talking about the 100 pound boulder I just saw twitching then yes, a little crumbly"
Man- how many times have you been in the big stuff, just wondering if it will move your way? Absolutely terrifying.
Mucci
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Fritz
Trad climber
Hagerman, ID
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Rockfall! Salmon River, Idontno, 1980.
We spent a couple springs putting in new routes on big granite buttresses upstream from Riggens, Idaho, near Manning Bridge.
One of the biggest buttresses had an obvious line that started with a very wide chimney. It got steeper and narrower, and soon turned into a difficult off-width.
I was able to lure Avery Tichner (my secret weapon) deep into Idaho to deal with this challenge. A group of us drove down from Moscow/Pullman on a May weekend in 1980.
Avery had brought a “new disciple” with him, and the three of us fought our way up through brush and poison ivy/oak to the buttress that I had dubbed “White Sheep Buttress.” Of course, the route was to be “Dream of White Sheep.”
I did an easy lead up to the chimney. Avery led the chimney and off-width cleanly, with a little grunting at the end, and pronounced it a 5.10d. Avery belayed us up to his new two-bolt belay. We then walked a two-foot wide ledge over to the start of the second lead . From a comfy belay-spot: the route went up a slab with a layback crack. I had been last up, was still out of breath, and told Avery to keep leading.
On the lead, Avery stopped about 60 feet above us and drew our attention to a loose flake he was avoiding. The flake looked like a granite car door and was obviously balanced precariously, just left of the layback crack that Avery was hanging on. Avery suggested that the next man up might want to kick the flake off, and then continued up.
The “disciple” was going next. I strongly discouraged him from even touching the loose flake: since it was poised directly above our belay. After Avery finished the lead, and the “disciple” started up: I had “an epiphany.”
I was going to die, if I didn’t move!
I unclipped from the belay and walked the ledge back to the previous belay.
I hung my pack in front of me, so that it covered my chest and abdomen-------and waited for something bad to happen.
I was not disappointed!
The “disciple” touched the loose flake, while he was going by. It slid 60 feet down the steep slab to the ledge where I had been standing minutes before.
When the 200-300 lb. flake hit my “belay ledge” it exploded with a boom and a cloud of rock flour.
Small chunks of the flake bounced off the pack protecting me, and a saucer sized chunk gave me a bone-bruise on my right ankle. The rest roared off the buttress and into the gully below.
I was impressed at the amount of rock the exploding flake picked up. 500 feet below me, a gravel road ran up the Salmon River. As I watched the rocks roar towards the road: a motorcycle rider came into view. He had the ability to do a 180 turn and flee as rockfall roared across the road and splashed in the river.
I yelled up that I was OK, and limped over to the destroyed belay spot. The rope was nearly chopped through. Avery wanted to continue and I shouted that I wasn’t following with a damaged rope and a bum ankle.
We retreated.
Afterwards: I thought often about why I had the “epiphany” and moved. Mostly it was 10 years of climbing experience, and internal voices shouting “you’re forked.” Perhaps an extra cup of coffee, and no hang-over from the night before helped as well.
Pilgrims! Yah got to “stay paranoid.” The rocks don’t care.
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survival
Big Wall climber
A Token of My Extreme
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Nice post Fritz, glad you made it out.
Excellent to read a tale about Avery. I miss him.
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Ihateplastic
Trad climber
It ain't El Cap, Oregon
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This one was strange only because of my reaction.
We were at the base of Positively 4th street and Maple Jam and we hear incoming missiles.
Where to go?
Into the trees?
It would seem the base is safer since the rocks will hit the wall on their way down and bounce into the forest.
I look at the base hoping to find an open book within dashing distance I can crawl inside of.
Too late! The rocks are nigh here!
I find a nice dihedral and cram my head in it. As the rain of terror falls I am laughing hysterically since the dihedral I have chosen is about two inches deep and I look like a tard with my arse pointed out and the top 15% of my skull protected.
This summer will be the first time EVER I wear a helmet in the Valley.
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Tendon
Boulder climber
Fort Collins, CO
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Lets stop talking about the 80's OK,
we all need to forget that decade ever happen.
So Summer 2006,
Mr CT and I decide to try a new route on the lower aprons of the chicago lakes gully on Mt Evans. We climb some vegetated ledges for a pitch or two to the base of obvious corner we wanted to try.
CT sets the belay off to the right of the corner for some reason.
I start up the corner on lead. I place a red alien in a nice crack on the left wall. In the main corner crack theres a block, I test it, seems OK,start moving past it. I decide in my brilliance that I need to use said block for a foot as well. Place the foot, OK lets keep moving.
You know that slow motion that happens sometimes when you realize your falling? The block/flake was apparently 1'x 3' and slowly spinning out of the crack thanks to my excellent foot placement on the very tip of it. All of sudden free fall as I realize this giant pizza cutter and I are going for a ride.
I stop 5 feet below the alien but the block could care less.
It slams into me in the corner pinning me for a mili-second.
Instinct kicks in to get this F**ker off me.
I push with my knee and hip and send that bastard on its 800ft voyage to the talus below, missing CT because he had the foresight to place the anchor off to the right of the corner.
Holy crap I'm alive. CT's facial expression is awesome as he lowers me to the belay. My knee is a little hyper extended but otherwise I'm ok.
Then we look at the rope, core-shot like a mofo 3 feet from my knot.
Really? did I really almost take the big ride?
to scared to care, CT cuts the core-shot section off and I finish the pitch, and the walk 1000ft uphill to the car.
CT has a harder time convincing me to go Trad climbing now.
BS
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fgw
Trad climber
portland, or
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Packing up atop pitch 3 of Prodigal S. in the morning. Something (a noise I guess) above directs our gazes skywards in time to see an object clearing the rim directly above. “ROCK!!!!” I yell. My wife ducks in under the small overhang that starts p4 while I’m stuck, tethered by my daisy while loading the bag. Time slows. There’s nowhere to go. I make out limbs. A nightmarish noise of rushing air as the person falls past us 20 feet away, impacts below and ricochets into the brush. Small debris float past my face: a small pack, some papers. I reach out and mindlessly grab what turns out to be a $20 bill. I’m numb. My wife does not see the details. She questions my version. So do I. The feel of the $20 in my pocket washes away my doubts. We bail. The $20 goes in the pack lying at the base.
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Ihateplastic
Trad climber
It ain't El Cap, Oregon
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Silence after that last one...
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healyje
Trad climber
Portland, Oregon
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I've been very lucky and I don't like to think about them.
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Ksolem
Trad climber
Monrovia, California
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Feb 10, 2010 - 12:12pm PT
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fgw - I've read your story about that incedent before. The condensed version here really has impact. What a thing. Jeez...
There is a climb on Tahquitz Rock called Zeno’s Paradox. It is an oddity, one beautiful pitch which stands alone between The Illegitimate and The White Maiden’s Walkaway. This exposed location is high on the steep left side of the Maidens’ Buttress, and gives a climber an excellent view into the North West Recess including all the trade routes from The Long Climb over to WhoDunnit and Sahara Terror.
Zeno’s begins by climbing up and left from the top of pitch two on The Maiden into the base of a long intimidating left facing corner. Looking up from the start of this corner, I could see it steepen and arch left. At the apex of the arch is the crux where one must climb through an overhang onto a steep face protected by a bolt or two above… It looked like El Camino Real on steroids.
Standing in the airy perch at the base of the corner, I took in the view. Below me to my left there was a fellow sitting comfortably on the ledge at the top of pitch one of The Long Climb. He was belaying a leader who was doing business with pitch two, The Mummy Crack. They appeared to be having a casual time, unlike a party over on Swallow who sounded like they were being devoured by monsters. I set my only 4” piece as high up as I could and began to quietly layback up the corner.
I was about halfway to the roof when far above someone yelled: “roooock!!!” I froze, locking my foot in the 31/2” crack, searching the sky for the bombardment to come. It must have taken a big bounce off one of those sloping ledges up high since it was way out in the air – no where near the cliff face. It was at least a cubic foot in size, and I watched with fascination as it dropped silently into the cool shady North West Recess, ever closer to the cliff as it fell. Then it hit.
The point of impact was the ledge, right next to the aforementioned belayer on the Long climb. There was flash and explosion like a small grenade, and the ledge and climber were obscured by a cloud of dust. As the dust cleared, the belayer began screaming until his lungs were empty. I heard him gasp for air and then came another full on primal scream. And another. I realized there was another person yelling as well; my partner who could hear but not see what was happening. It was time for me to get back to work. Charged with a crazy kind of energy I swarmed up the rest of the pitch like a man possessed.
Later, in Humber Park we met the fellow who was so nearly killed. He looked like a Civil War Veteran, a white bandage around his head and his left arm in a sling, streaks of blood still on his face and clothes. He was propped up in the open bed of a pickup drinking Coronas and selling climbing gear. I told him what I had seen, and that he was very lucky. He said when the rock hit his heart stopped, he blacked out, and he could not possibly have screamed like that. His partner gave us beers and we all laughed hard.
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TripL7
Trad climber
san diego
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Sep 19, 2010 - 06:36pm PT
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RRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOCK!!!
bump...
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