Ah yes, all of my previous commitments and trips were finally completed. I was finally able to reserve a weekend for me and some rocks. Being in the heart of summer, I had to be weary of the hordes at Summersville Lake and wondered what other climbing holes would be cool enough spend the day at.
Saturday, we went out to the Meadow River and hiked the down to the 3rd buttress. This was a sure fire way to get out of the crowds. The old manta of “the father you hike, the less people you will see” held true. We only met one other determined party that made the quite casual hike down the old railroad bed. =
We ended up putting our stuff down and ticking all the route within a 50 foot radius. All were of good quality and most where nice 80-90ft rope stretchers. We had some entertainment during the climbs as an unsuspecting Toad was attacked and eaten by a garter snake. We all wished we could help the dude, but it was planet earth and the circle of life.
Anyways, the one route that stuck in my memory for the day was this original route that I have seen called by 3 different names. “Unnamed, Old Eleven, and Vanished”. This one is burn into my cortex because it started out with thin traverses below several large tiered roofs before briefly stopping at the bottom of dihedral. From here, I looked up into the dihedral and had to do battle with one of the “mother of all spiders” of the meadow river. Without a trusty spider wand, I performed hand to hand combat with this rat sized spider. The fight end with direct punch to its face and chucking it off the cliff to unsuspecting belayer Matt. Blinded and wrapped in spider silk, I moved right into performing the splits and then some powerful lunges to a rest.
I was desperately sucking in air at the rest because I forgot to breathe through the spider ordeal. Slowly my focused return, only to find out that army of small spiders had descend into my handjam rest. They were hell bent on revenged, but I would none of it. I shook what creatures I could off in to the abyss and pressed onward over the last bulges. Seeing the end but before committing to the last move, something clicked in my head and said don’t go left, it’s trap. Trusting dumb instinct with my arms burning, I hand traversed out right and pulled on slopey baby butts to the ledge. While finally standing at old rusty anchors I looked down left and confirmed my intuition. The left line was blank and covered with deceptive lichen. This was indeed a trap that has undoubtedly suckers in other would be onsighters.
The next day we went to Kaymoor. I had a date with “Fairtrace”r again, but this time I would lead the show. Hauling the trad rack down to the sportsman’s paradise was completely worth the effort yet again. Matt and John got me amped to start the day. My memories were still vivid as sections and cruxes past by me. This route still held its original charm. Grinning at every crux and smirking at each tiny cam placement, I made to the crimpy lunge. Holding it and letting out a howl, (which I rarely make noises on a route) the whole day seemed already vinidicated. Lowering to the ground, I was happy and the day would be a great success not matter what would follow.
But the NRG gods would let me get 3 more cool routes that afternoon. Scenic Adult got my blood pumping the whole to the top, with its sporty 100ft gently overhang rock. This route proved to be a good test of overall skill level, requiring jams, crimps, pinch, arête dancing, slab praying, and pure power.
Then while waiting out the rest of the day, I got to sample “control” with a big dyno. This route was pretty cool, and if I return I would gladly hop on it. The last highlight was finishing with a onsite of Lost Souls. I averted my eyes every time I walked by the route with someone on it. I was saving it for a good day. Today ended up being that good day. I almost biffed it up at the 3rd bolt with some weird piano matching beta, but I held it together and launched up the crimps and finally to the anchors. Draws were already place on the route, so I opted to remove them and then replacement and then clip the rope for official climbing points.
Smelly and tired, we called it a day and made another unwanted trip back into reality.
