States of the Art
Max Jones
Supercrack
We arrived in the Gunks excited to climb and full of rumors about this magical climbing arena. The first few days were spent getting used to the rock, and we even managed to pull off Kansas City one morning. The we checked out Supercrack-the world's hardest crack (or so every Gunkie told us). We were sure it couldn't be that hard, but you never know, and we wanted to find out first hand if the rumors were true. After all, it had been climbed only twice in four years, and that wasn't due to lack of trying.
Upon first inspection, it doesn't look too hard. I remember telling Mark that I thought we might get it that day. Don't be fooled! After five attempts to complete the first 15ft. I take another look at this thing. It's hard! It's a real bad size and it's very hard to find jams that work. Every time I try something new, and finally I make it to the roof, put in a nut and keep going. The middle section is not too bad, but I can't rest. When I move up into the thin crack, I find my ridiculously taped fingers no longer fit in the crack. Damn! A 20-footer back down to the roof for my mistake. At least I now know it's a safe if gruesome-looking fall.
After that fall, not being in the mood to take another one, I climb from the ground, with less tape, to my high point-this time putting in a nut before my fingers melt out of the crack. I still wonder, will these fingers fit? I grab a nut (watching for lightning) and pull up enough to check. They don't fit. I'm going to have to think of something for tomorrow. All of a sudden this innocent-looking 55 ft. of crack has become a formidable testpiece.
The next day we arrive late in the afternoon so the climb will be in the shade and much cooler. Armed with a new tape job, I climb over the first moves. I'm starting to get those moves memorized and they are finally getting easier-not easy, but easier than desperate. Moving to the top, I struggle to get into the thin section but blow it and come down, I need to climb the bottom quickly so I have strength for the last part.
The next try gets me a little farther before falling off and I just sit there on the rope looking at the remaining five feet of crack below the top buckets wondering if I'll ever get this thing. So close, but so hard. Then down to the ground again, to wait an hour before my next try.
This time the bottom section goes quickly, I can't believe it, almost effortlessly. I stop to chalk up but have to keep moving to the last section, where I struggle to hang on and get a nut in. I move up to the good holds where I am looking, looking , at the top huge incut jug. My foot is sliding on the lichen as I try desperately to find a foodhold. There's got to be one, I can't wait too long and decide to shoot for the hold, but miss. I can't believe it; I fell from the top move and there it is covered by the 'biner and rope-a foothold!
"Going insane ... yet I'm laughing in the frozen rain." That Steely Dan song won't stop running through my head, while we walk back to the car in the dark. Maybe tomorrow. I hope I can do the top move again.
The next day Mark leads Open Cockpit and I have a fun time top-roping it. It's a good route to do for a warm-up. Then the fun is over and it's back to Supercrack. Some friends who witnessed my adventures the day before volunteer to clip the rope into the high point. Who am I to refuse? It takes me half an hour to tape my fingers (I'm getting this down to a science). One more time up this thing.
The bottom goes by effortlessly again and is almost fun. I chalk up and move into the top half. It doesn't give me near the trouble it did the day before and the missed foothold (which I'll never forget) is used as soon as possible. I grab the top jug, mantel, place another nut and climb through easy but still overhanging rock to the no-hands rest on top.
It sure feels good to untie the rope on top of this pillar. That's a lot of work to put into 55 ft. of rock. This is a neat place to view a beautiful autumn day. All the trees are changing colors and it's perfect shorts and no-shirt day. An excellent day. The hardest crack in the US? No, but still damn hard.
Phoenix
"This thing is the hardest thing I ever hope to climb," I say to myself as I begin the 120ft. free rappel to the belay. The top of the crack is all 1½ inches and just too small to get my hands in to jam. Boy! Mark was close to the top yesterday when he fell off. He had finally made it through the middle section and was going for the top when his arm gave out.
There are no rests on this climb and only a couple of places to stop-sucker rests. The thin crack section is neat, just a finger crack up an overhanging wall with good locks but not much in the way of foot holds. Too bad it starts off so hard. The down-sloping horizontal lower part of the crack is desperate.
Near the end of the rappel, I pull myself into the belay underneath the small corner that starts the pitch. That corner is a hard technical start to a desperate route. The crack opens up only occasionally to allow fingertips. We figured that each section of this pitch-the corner, the horizontal to vertical thin crack and the 1¼-1½ inch section to the top-would be good 5.11 to 5.11+ cruxes on any other route. Too bad there's no rest between them.
Mark glides down the rope and is soon strapped into a comfortable belay waiting for me to climb. it's my turn to go first. Was he thinking the same thing as I was? That it's our fourth day working on this climb and my hands, at least, could not take much more of this crack? I mention something about not wanting to come back here again and he agrees . Today will have to be the day.
I lead past the now familiar moves, up the corner and the many fixed pins to the horizontal crack. I barely manage to pass that section, and climb only a few feet higher before falling off. Boy, I don't know about this-I did better yesterday.
"Let me down. Have a good one, Mark"
Mark gets ready and is soon machining his way up to and past the horizontal section. he continues up the thin crack, but suddenly falls. He has pulled his shoulder out again. I hope he can still climb this thing-I'm unsure about leading the top part. My hands do not fit into the crack and my mind is about shot from working on this climb for so long.
Yesterday, Mark led to within 15ft. of the top before he burned out trying to place nuts. Some Friends would have been nice. I then climbed to the same point and fell off. So close! Getting that far was really an achievement considering that the first two days were spent trying to climb the first 60t in one push. We finally accomplished that on the third day. It was a great psychological boost to get that far. We might climb this thing after all!
Mark has recovered, is chalking up and getting psyched. He climbs up the fingertip corner that starts the route, to the sequence of moves we've done so many times through the horizontal thin section. Then it's up the thin crack and into the 1¼ inch section to the first stopping place (I hesitate to call it a rest).
He stops to chalk up and shake out each arm, and then continues to move up and clip into nuts left from the previous day's desperate attempt. Passing these he places more nuts, and makes the last moves in the crack to where he has to reach left and around the corner. He hesitates, shoots for the corner, misses once and then gets it, and is soon around the top outside corner. All right! He's done it!
Now I have to get ready. I tighten my boots and swami belt, add a little benzoin to the cuts on my hands to help stifle the bleeding. That hurts! Sorry about this, hands!
I'm getting the bottom part more and more memorized, and work my way up to and then past the crux. I'm climbing better now and didn't mess up any moves. The thin section is not a problem and actually feels easy compared to the crux below (even though it would be like climbing an overhanging Butterballs). It fits my finger size well and I can even get my toes in the crack. Then I arrive at the 1¼ inch section. A tricky size to jam, but finger stacks work well and it's not too hard. I'm climbing smoothly and think my arms might last.
The last 1½ inch section, however, is what I've been fearing. My hands don't fit, and every move is very strenuous. Why couldn't my hands be just a little thinner? Shoving them into the crack, trying to get them to fit, hurts. Suddenly I'm nearing the top and I'm almost too tired to unclip from the nuts. I hope that's a hand jam up there. Oops, both feet cut loose and only my left hand is jammed; somehow I manage to hang on. Back on the rock I lunge to the hand jam, and lunge to the left to palm the outside corner above the crack. Another dynamo to the crack around the corner, and I have the top. Finally.
I roll off the climb totally helpless and look up to Mark, who is grinning like a clown. It's over! We never have to come back! My hands hang uselessly by my sides, all torn up, and I can barely climb the short easy section up to the belay. "Good work, Mark." We shake hands and they rebel with pain. Sorry about that, hands.
We arrived in the Gunks excited to climb and full of rumors about this magical climbing arena. The first few days were spent getting used to the rock, and we even managed to pull off Kansas City one morning. The we checked out Supercrack-the world's hardest crack (or so every Gunkie told us). We were sure it couldn't be that hard, but you never know, and we wanted to find out first hand if the rumors were true. After all, it had been climbed only twice in four years, and that wasn't due to lack of trying.
Upon first inspection, it doesn't look too hard. I remember telling Mark that I thought we might get it that day. Don't be fooled! After five attempts to complete the first 15ft. I take another look at this thing. It's hard! It's a real bad size and it's very hard to find jams that work. Every time I try something new, and finally I make it to the roof, put in a nut and keep going. The middle section is not too bad, but I can't rest. When I move up into the thin crack, I find my ridiculously taped fingers no longer fit in the crack. Damn! A 20-footer back down to the roof for my mistake. At least I now know it's a safe if gruesome-looking fall.
After that fall, not being in the mood to take another one, I climb from the ground, with less tape, to my high point-this time putting in a nut before my fingers melt out of the crack. I still wonder, will these fingers fit? I grab a nut (watching for lightning) and pull up enough to check. They don't fit. I'm going to have to think of something for tomorrow. All of a sudden this innocent-looking 55 ft. of crack has become a formidable testpiece.
The next day we arrive late in the afternoon so the climb will be in the shade and much cooler. Armed with a new tape job, I climb over the first moves. I'm starting to get those moves memorized and they are finally getting easier-not easy, but easier than desperate. Moving to the top, I struggle to get into the thin section but blow it and come down, I need to climb the bottom quickly so I have strength for the last part.
The next try gets me a little farther before falling off and I just sit there on the rope looking at the remaining five feet of crack below the top buckets wondering if I'll ever get this thing. So close, but so hard. Then down to the ground again, to wait an hour before my next try.
This time the bottom section goes quickly, I can't believe it, almost effortlessly. I stop to chalk up but have to keep moving to the last section, where I struggle to hang on and get a nut in. I move up to the good holds where I am looking, looking , at the top huge incut jug. My foot is sliding on the lichen as I try desperately to find a foodhold. There's got to be one, I can't wait too long and decide to shoot for the hold, but miss. I can't believe it; I fell from the top move and there it is covered by the 'biner and rope-a foothold!
"Going insane ... yet I'm laughing in the frozen rain." That Steely Dan song won't stop running through my head, while we walk back to the car in the dark. Maybe tomorrow. I hope I can do the top move again.
The next day Mark leads Open Cockpit and I have a fun time top-roping it. It's a good route to do for a warm-up. Then the fun is over and it's back to Supercrack. Some friends who witnessed my adventures the day before volunteer to clip the rope into the high point. Who am I to refuse? It takes me half an hour to tape my fingers (I'm getting this down to a science). One more time up this thing.
The bottom goes by effortlessly again and is almost fun. I chalk up and move into the top half. It doesn't give me near the trouble it did the day before and the missed foothold (which I'll never forget) is used as soon as possible. I grab the top jug, mantel, place another nut and climb through easy but still overhanging rock to the no-hands rest on top.
It sure feels good to untie the rope on top of this pillar. That's a lot of work to put into 55 ft. of rock. This is a neat place to view a beautiful autumn day. All the trees are changing colors and it's perfect shorts and no-shirt day. An excellent day. The hardest crack in the US? No, but still damn hard.
Phoenix
"This thing is the hardest thing I ever hope to climb," I say to myself as I begin the 120ft. free rappel to the belay. The top of the crack is all 1½ inches and just too small to get my hands in to jam. Boy! Mark was close to the top yesterday when he fell off. He had finally made it through the middle section and was going for the top when his arm gave out.
There are no rests on this climb and only a couple of places to stop-sucker rests. The thin crack section is neat, just a finger crack up an overhanging wall with good locks but not much in the way of foot holds. Too bad it starts off so hard. The down-sloping horizontal lower part of the crack is desperate.
Near the end of the rappel, I pull myself into the belay underneath the small corner that starts the pitch. That corner is a hard technical start to a desperate route. The crack opens up only occasionally to allow fingertips. We figured that each section of this pitch-the corner, the horizontal to vertical thin crack and the 1¼-1½ inch section to the top-would be good 5.11 to 5.11+ cruxes on any other route. Too bad there's no rest between them.
Mark glides down the rope and is soon strapped into a comfortable belay waiting for me to climb. it's my turn to go first. Was he thinking the same thing as I was? That it's our fourth day working on this climb and my hands, at least, could not take much more of this crack? I mention something about not wanting to come back here again and he agrees . Today will have to be the day.
I lead past the now familiar moves, up the corner and the many fixed pins to the horizontal crack. I barely manage to pass that section, and climb only a few feet higher before falling off. Boy, I don't know about this-I did better yesterday.
"Let me down. Have a good one, Mark"
Mark gets ready and is soon machining his way up to and past the horizontal section. he continues up the thin crack, but suddenly falls. He has pulled his shoulder out again. I hope he can still climb this thing-I'm unsure about leading the top part. My hands do not fit into the crack and my mind is about shot from working on this climb for so long.
Yesterday, Mark led to within 15ft. of the top before he burned out trying to place nuts. Some Friends would have been nice. I then climbed to the same point and fell off. So close! Getting that far was really an achievement considering that the first two days were spent trying to climb the first 60t in one push. We finally accomplished that on the third day. It was a great psychological boost to get that far. We might climb this thing after all!
Mark has recovered, is chalking up and getting psyched. He climbs up the fingertip corner that starts the route, to the sequence of moves we've done so many times through the horizontal thin section. Then it's up the thin crack and into the 1¼ inch section to the first stopping place (I hesitate to call it a rest).
He stops to chalk up and shake out each arm, and then continues to move up and clip into nuts left from the previous day's desperate attempt. Passing these he places more nuts, and makes the last moves in the crack to where he has to reach left and around the corner. He hesitates, shoots for the corner, misses once and then gets it, and is soon around the top outside corner. All right! He's done it!
Now I have to get ready. I tighten my boots and swami belt, add a little benzoin to the cuts on my hands to help stifle the bleeding. That hurts! Sorry about this, hands!
I'm getting the bottom part more and more memorized, and work my way up to and then past the crux. I'm climbing better now and didn't mess up any moves. The thin section is not a problem and actually feels easy compared to the crux below (even though it would be like climbing an overhanging Butterballs). It fits my finger size well and I can even get my toes in the crack. Then I arrive at the 1¼ inch section. A tricky size to jam, but finger stacks work well and it's not too hard. I'm climbing smoothly and think my arms might last.
The last 1½ inch section, however, is what I've been fearing. My hands don't fit, and every move is very strenuous. Why couldn't my hands be just a little thinner? Shoving them into the crack, trying to get them to fit, hurts. Suddenly I'm nearing the top and I'm almost too tired to unclip from the nuts. I hope that's a hand jam up there. Oops, both feet cut loose and only my left hand is jammed; somehow I manage to hang on. Back on the rock I lunge to the hand jam, and lunge to the left to palm the outside corner above the crack. Another dynamo to the crack around the corner, and I have the top. Finally.
I roll off the climb totally helpless and look up to Mark, who is grinning like a clown. It's over! We never have to come back! My hands hang uselessly by my sides, all torn up, and I can barely climb the short easy section up to the belay. "Good work, Mark." We shake hands and they rebel with pain. Sorry about that, hands.
Mountain 67, 1980