The Kor-Ingalls Route on Castleton Tower - October 26, 2001
Never has a route been the source of such a dilemma for me. The Kor-Ingalls certainly didn't sound fun - almost every first hand account I had heard or read described things I consider undesirable in a climb. It was crowded, clogged with inexperienced people in over their head. It was wide. It was runout, slick, and scary. It was a sandbag. Frankly, I was scared of it. At the same time, it was a route that I knew I had to do. It was the first major tower route done in canyon country. It is the most obvious route on one of the most striking formations anywhere. I had already sought out several other easier tower routes in Utah, and the Kor-Ingalls was next. Most importantly, it is a Steck and Roper 50 Classic Climb. Call it some kind of perverse feeling of duty or whatever, but I didn't have a choice - I had to climb this route.
Carol and I finally made plans to go and give it a try. In the days leading up to our trip, our friend Holly was looking for a ride to Indian Creek for a gathering of the hometown climbing crew. We decided to do the route as a group of three - it was to be Holly's first tower route. Then, at the last minute, Holly decided not to go. Then she changed her mind again. And again. And again.
The three of us got on the road somewhat later than I had hoped on Thursday evening. The drive took forever - Carol stepped up and drove the final two hours when I started nodding off at the wheel. We finally found the turnoff for Castleton, and were greeted by several cars. I was slightly discouraged, but there wasn't much to do other than get to sleep with the alarm set for sunrise.
It was still dark when another car arrived and woke me up. I listened as the occupants packed up and headed out - undoubtedly going for the Kor-Ingalls. Shortly, the alarm sounded, and we started getting ready for our day. After a quick breakfast we began the hike. The hike itself wasn't too bad, but we had a couple route finding problems near the top. Soon enough we were at the bottom of the route, and as I expected there was indeed a group ahead of us. The leader was apparently stymied by the second pitch and lowered off. The other climber quickly re-led the pitch and gained the anchors while we were getting ready.
From the conception of our trip, I had assumed that I would lead P1, Carol would lead P2, I would lead P3, and Holly would lead the final pitch to the summit. Apparently I didn't adequately communicate this plan, as Holly started racking up at the base to lead the first pitch. I was pretty much ready to go, I had my shoes and harness on and the gear was on my gearsling, but it didn't seem like a big deal so I didn't say anything.
Just as Holly was almost ready to go, Jerk showed up. He was clearly unhappy, and didn't even attempt to hide it. He asked how much longer until we were climbing, to which I replied "a couple minutes." He mentioned that he and his partner could be up the pitch before we were ready if we were going to take another 20 minutes getting ready. Since I just told him we wouldn't take any more than two minutes to get moving, his comment seemed odd. I mentioned that there was another party on the second pitch. Making no effort to lower his voice he said, "They're the least of our problems."
I heard it, but didn't believe he actually said it. Carol rolled her eyes and confirmed that he did indeed say it. That was when he should have turned around and walked back to his car, as there was no way I was going to make life easier for him after that comment. Instead, he stalked off around the tower leaving his lady friend behind to watch us.
So now Holly was feeling all rushed and uncomfortable. I was bummed and annoyed that this jerk was trying so hard to ruin our day. I don't like to be the gumby or roadblock on a route, and if someone more competent than me is below I generally have no qualms about letting them pass. But after this jerk's attitude, I ceased to care pretty quickly. I have no idea where someone gets off thinking they can get a moderately late start for a well-known and extremely crowded route on an absolutely perfect day, and then cop an attitude at the bottom of the route and expect folks to just step out of their way. Part of the game of climbing these popular routes is working with the other people. Showing up late to the bottom of the climb then complaining about the line is poor form at best. If Jerk had showed up with a smile and been the least bit friendly, things would have been different, and we would have gladly invited him to go ahead of us. As it was, I had to make a conscious decision to not let him adversely affect me. It was my duty, afterall.
Holly led off on the first pitch and ended up taking a little longer than she wanted in the chimney. It all turned out for the best, though, as Jerk returned and his friend mentioned that they weren't getting on this route anytime soon. Jerk suggested that they look at the North Chimney, and off they went short roped together. Jerkette wasn't inspired by the looks of that route, and they ended up hiking out (much to my relief) without doing any climbing.
I seconded the first pitch, and found Holly belaying about 20 feet below the anchors where she decided that she had enough of unprotected slick calcite covered chimney climbing. I hopped up the much easier terrain and clipped into the bolted anchor. Carol soon joined me. At this point, Jerk was still stalking around down below, so Carol didn't feel comfortable leading the second pitch and suggested that I lead it.
I hate taping up to climb cracks. On this route I decided to experiment with Hand Jammies, which are half-gloves used for climbing handcracks. The experiment lasted about 30 feet at which point I was frustrated enough to remove them and clip them to my harness, where they would hang for the rest of the day. It didn't matter anyway, as the entire route had no more than 3 handjams. The pitch proved interesting and slightly tricky, but I kept moving and was soon at the belay below the crux slot. Carol and Holly both enjoyed the pitch, and eagerly settled in to watch me do battle with the much-feared crux.
To make a long story short, I dutifully did it, but it wasn't pretty. Holly had the unfortunate task of belaying me. Carol was able to take a nap: I took quite a long time. I had read too much beta about the pitch, and instead of just climbing it I tried to apply different formulas, none of which worked for me. I had way too much gear, and changed what side I was racked on several times as I tried to figure out a way through the crux. I finally ended up with about equal amounts of gear on both sides and committed to the strenuous moves. I got stuck, and had to fight my way out of the squeeze, yet remain in control so I wouldn't pop out of it and fall. Above the last bolt I engaged in an epic battle to clip a fixed runner around a chockstone deep in the crack. I just couldn't get it, and nearly expired from the effort. I ended up finishing the crux without it - once back inside the chimney I was able to ooze down to it and clip it from the inside. Shortly after that I was finally at the anchors, relieved to be done with it. So yeah, it's probably only 5.9.
Holly and Carol both climbed it somewhat more quickly than me. Carol swore a little at the small pack she had to drag up behind her, but she got over it quickly and was soon smiling at the belay. Once again, it was decided that I would lead the last pitch, and off I went. I kind of went the wrong way at first, and had to do a cool hand traverse to get back to easy ground. I then ran it out so that the ladies wouldn't have to deal with a nasty pendulum fall. Shortly after that, all three of us were on the summit, pleased with our successful ascent.
So, now I sit here and try to write up a brief report of our climb. The truth is, I really don't feel like it. It wasn't the worst climb that I've done, and it certainly wasn't the best. The weather was perfect, and the route itself wasn't as hard or scary as I had imagined it would be. My experience was marred when my presence ruined another group's day, but I enjoyed climbing with my two partners. Add it all up and it was a good day, but sort of unremarkable. Maybe I'm writing this for the same reason that I did the route - a sense of duty. The route is a Steck and Roper 50 Classic, afterall.