January 31st-February 11th, February 21st, 2010
New Route: Tatonka 5.10a, featuring: Goats, Chickens, and Lizards, 5.6R and El Ciego, 5.11b, R
A conquering we did go! First up, Tatonka. The giant slab called and we came. The first 300 meters or so are a calf-aching unroped friction trek.
Then there are a few moderate pitches. The route is very a la choose your own adventure. Hence the many variations, some worthy of being featured. Eventually the route comes to an excellently arching hand to finger crack at “The Trad Crag”, which sports three different and interesting two-pitch traditional routes before continuing to the summit!
It took us about two weeks in total to finish this route. Why? It's not because I took too many photos while on lead, such as the photo above. The main culprit and suspect for stealing time was that we bolted almost the entire route by hand. Not by hand drill. I mean we took hockey tape and climbing tape and some duct tape and made a small handle for the drill bit, and we hammered that granite with all of our might!
Griping ensued. Laughter followed that. And we took turns. Since I was the one who had purchased the Hilti drill, I felt mostly responsible for our conundrum and may have taken more bolts than the others, but I still feel I owe them one! Luckily, I was able to have them both use the drill and feel the joy of putting in a bolt in 30 seconds as opposed to 30 minutes!
In seeking another reason why this route took us so long to complete I look at its many variations. Being climbers through and through, we had no choice but to help ourselves to each and every one of them! Take, for example, the Goats, Chickens, and Lizards 5.6 R variation. These two pitches, pictured below, offer a fun and easy runout way to get from the base of the Trad Crag to the final roped pitch on Tatonka. The name of this route has its own history, too, which makes it that much more enjoyable for anyone who knows the three of us and the story. I don't really want to divulge the story, but let's just say there's a lot of love in the world just from the three of us.
Here's a cool picture of a lizard, too. These lizards scampered all over the place in Cochamó and were our pals. They ate tabanos. We killed tabanos and gave them to the lizards. Born buddies, we were!
A fortunate result of the many variations and changing contours on the route Tatonka is that the view varies greatly from pitch to pitch. You surmount different sections of rock, eliminating the previous view but gaining another. For starters, marching up 300-500 meters of slab and dike is something I had not previously done unroped. The view and exposure were both highly appreciated.
The summit of Cerro Laguna is unequivalently gorgeous. You can hike around the top and play eyewitness to the crimes of beauty committed by each and every adjacent granite-walled valley.
Speaking of gaining the summit. I’m from Maine, and having spent over a year in Bariloche, Argentina and Frey. Needless to say, I am comfortable with snow. My Chicago- and Denver-bred Special Ops buddies – if they are, in fact, from where they say they are from – were, however, not so fond of the snow. I distinctly recall seeing them tiptoeing delicately to gain solid rock ground again, where they felt much more at ease to scramble. They practically arrested me for running, sliding, and jumping my way down the snow packs on our descent. I don’t mean to give the impression that I’m reckless, either. I have rules based on observations that govern how fast and where I navigate the snow. I am especially wary, of course, of the areas nearest the edges of the rock where the melting tends to be greatest, and so forth.
Rock and snow included, it was all great fun. To take off the ropes and just plunge upwards to an increasing view, as in the Sound of Music, but with more granite and sharper contrasts superimposed, was to revamp my pulse.
The scale of grandeur in Cochamó bewilders even the bold. Josh virtuously attacked his variation to Tatonka, “El Ciego” with blind patience. He made noises I had never heard him make before. And he’s a weird noise making robot. The runout was palpable, especially as I dangled in its midst, close to Josh, snapping photos silently, as he stepped directly into his sea of fear. Do robots fear? The determination and strength that Josh hosts within, when put into action is truly a sight to behold and be impressed by. Check out the steep slab and the runout displayed in the following pictures.
I forget that Vishal hasn’t been climbing long. The guy’s ripped. And he already has more first ascents than Armstrong has yellow jerseys. But what strikes me even more is that his ratio of climbing first ascents to established climbs is so polarized opposite of most climbers. He barely knows what it’s like to climb without cleaning and bolting. On a big wall. Cragging and bouldering must seem silly to him. Plastic even more so. I can barely imagine what this is doing to his expectations and desires. But he takes it all in stride. He lets us do the choosing. We tried to tell him, “Vish, you get to choose what route we open next,” to which he responded, “Guys, I don’t even know what I’m looking for!”
Also, both Vishal and Josh speak Spanish, which is nice for a change: I like having gringo companions with whom we can communicate in Spanish or English, and who can take care of themselves in conversations with locals. Moreover, speaking Spanish is a symptom of a type of traveler who likely likes to adapt, be considerate, and get involved. As a result, we all get a long like keys in a cod, bees in a bod, knees in a nod, or peas in a pod – a spacepod.
It seems like just this morning we had mate and cereal with granola and oatmeal, and left our boots and shoes on the bottom part of the giant slab to begin our hike up to climb Cerro Laguna’s Tatonka...
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