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My Introduction to Unclean Aid
Although I've been mucking around with aid for a year or so and even hauled myself up a wall or two, up until now I have managed to avoid anything other than clean aid. I would try to claim that this was a matter of ethical purity, but the truth of it is that I really never knew how to place a pin or head and the thought of it scared me enough that I'd just hook around or hand place a beak or manky RP instead. Eventually however the day came when I faced a pitch which required something more, and this is that story…
As with many of the best ones, this weekend's plan was hatched late Friday afternoon. Due to the beautiful and (for a change) warm weather, I was reluctant to spend the whole weekend aiding on a north-facing wall. But lately I'd really been eyeing the Sheriff's Badge route, and Robert was only going to have a couple more free weekends before he took off for the summer. Also, Robert had his first batch of homemade copperheads ready and was dying to test them out. So soon a cunning plan was drawn. We'd head up early Saturday, drop Robert off at the trail, he'd head up and solo the first few pitches leaving fixed lines, and I'd head out to the Bluffs and play in the sun. Then in the evening I'd pick up some donuts, jug the lines, and we'd climb through the night and try to top out by mid day Sunday.
Aside from sleeping in an hour late, everything went off without a hitch Saturday morning. We were in Squamish by 8, dropped off Robert, grabbed some breakfast, and off to the Bluffs. Now that it's March I guess everything starts thinking about climbing again, the bluffs were packed. The choice was either jockey for position on a sunny patch of rock, or go find something isolated in the shade. From time to time we'd take a look through the binoculars to see Robert with the entire Badge to himself, probably 10 times the amount of Rock we were sharing with the hordes. As promised, late in the afternoon I took off to pick up a dozen donuts and some cheeseburgers, then headed up to meet Robert.
Halfway up the trail I realized I was still wearing my sandals. Hmm, probably a bad idea to climb a wall in sandals. Back to the car for shoes, then up to the base. Just as I got within sight, what do I see but Robert standing on the ground. "Why aren't you on the wall?" Turns out he'd forgotten his grigri and rappel device and had spent the day improvising with clove hitches. And to boot, he was tired and thought climbing through the night was a bad idea, especially with some hard pitches ahead. I was glad he had suggested it first, as I had been thinking the same thing. So we decided to head into town, and come back the next day to try some more. The next pitch would be mine, and Robert promised that it looked really good. "You'll have to use your hammer though…"
The next morning we were at it again, jugging the fixed lines until we reached it: pitch 4. A short rivet ladder to an incipient seam trending left at 60 degrees. Gently overhanging, immaculate white rock, the huge roofs looming above. Fantastic. I donned the rack composed predominantly of iron and copper, and set off. Quickly up the rivets and old bolts, I was soon at the start of the seam. It was beautiful. And terribly intimidating. So thin as to almost not be there, it split the otherwise featureless white wall in a single straight and determined stroke. The line was so obvious, and yet it almost wasn't a line at all. It's pristine beauty marred only be a few fixed heads, it simply begged to be climbed.
And so I start. Reach, clip the first piece, a fixed head. The seam quickly shuts itself again. Searching the wall above I find an edge for a hook. Laughingly, the seam offers a small pod. I fiddle with some nuts, but it is too shallow. The seam is taunting me. Finally I fiddle in an alien with two lobes in the pod and the other two stretched out in the cool March air. Bounce bounce bounce. Commit. Ahead, the seam has a new test: a tiny, bottoming flare. I suppose now is a good time to learn copperheading. I pull a head off the rack, and Robert shouts up some instructions. A few blows with the hammer to preshape it, and into the flare. Whack whack whack, the copper slowly molds to the seam. More furious bouncing. The seam has decided to let me pass. Another fixed head, then the brief respite of a bolt.
The seam taunts me, so I must continue. But I am not the first to be here, and the seam's bite has been dulled by a couple fixed heads. Nonetheless, I remain on my guard, it could be a trap. Past the heads, the seam is once again shut. She offers nothing. Searching above I find two dowels leading to a bolt. A past challenger has scorned the seam. I follow suit, and quickly reach the shiny bolt.
The seam laughs, this has been but foreplay. I leave the security of the bolt, and commit to my beautiful antagonist's next challenge. I place another head. A long reach, and two more dowels reveal themselves. But no more, now I must confront her one on one. I search the seam to see what she will offer. Another head. But now the seam has had enough. Laser thin and shallow, she tries to keep me out. Fiddling through my rack, I pull out a rurp. The seam resists, but I drive the rurp in. She relents, and allows it. More heads. Above, the wall relaxes, easing to just under vertical. But the seam will not let me off as easily. Reaching high, I try to place another head. As good as I can get it, I prepare to test it. The seam spits it out, laughingly. I look back down, a string of bodywieght placements litter the seam until the bolt. As I stare, the seam appears to stretch, pulling the bolt further and further away. But it is only a ruse, the seam has many such tricks up her sleeve. She teases me with a flare for a head just out of reach. I fall for it, and climb high in my aiders. Again, just as I test the placement, the seam spits it out. Dejected, I step back down. Searching lower, I find what the seam has tried to hide: a slim placement for a beak. Off the top step of my aiders, I can just place another rurp. I eye the distant bolt below me again, then commit. Above, a fixed #1 head. Stepping up gingerly, I stretch to a dowel, and then finally, a bolt. As I clip the bolt, the crack smiles at me. I made it. But only because she let me pass.
The angle relents again, now an 80 degree slab. The seam changes too, shooting straight up to the roofs high above. We continue our dance. More heads, a 2 lobe alien, rurp, RP… but it is no longer the same. The passion of our struggle is gone. I pound in a shifty lost arrow, and she does not fight back. Above: tcus. Finally, a couple manky bolts, and the anchor. She has let me win… this time.
