Friday, 21 June, 2019: The Summer SolsticeSeamus was putting his newly purchased 2004 Chevrolet Tracker to the test. Several large cobblestones on the narrow "road" to Amon Rûdh had us praising the quarter-inch steel skid plate protecting the SUV's viscera. After crossing two narrow creeks and teetering along a steep washout, we arrived for a trailhead bivvy just before midnight. The storied walls of the Eldred Valley surrounded us but were shrouded in darkness. My (Nick's) imagination flickered with visions of granite monoliths as I drifted off to sleep. Our alarm would sound at 5:00 AM, heralding dawn and the start of our ascent of On the Virg—an obscure route that sees few attempts. Saturday, 22 June, 2019Nick Hindley was our third team member and the de facto leader, as he had climbed The Mormegil on the same wall one year prior. Nick assured us the approach hike would be heinous and obscure but, as usual, Seamus and I were optimistic. The journey began on a typical (for BC) climber's trail: relentlessly steep and loose but relatively easy to follow. Before long, though, one faces a critical route-finding juncture at a small plateau populated by enormous boulders. As we later learned, the correct path follows red flagging tape labeled "RESCUE" toward the right (East), across the slope. Unfortunately, we chose to continue up along the forested ridge. After fighting through dense, thorny bushes—what loggers call "hellbrush"—for 40 minutes, we miraculously emerged onto the correct path. An hour later, I spotted bolts at the base of a long corner system: the start of the route. Nick H. led Seamus and I through four terrific pitches--each demanding a different technique--to a terraced ledge system. Here, I tied in to lead the crux 5.10 slab. The 60-m pitch was my first lead on half-ropes. Consistent with local style, it was sparsely bolted and tenuous; excellent, exciting climbing on a perfect granite slab. I enjoyed it immensely... until I ran out of rope. Fifty-five meters above Seamus and Nick H., hidden around the buttress, I attempted to scream over the wind. Looking back down the pitch I could see one of the two ropes bowing out to my right, using considerably more of its length. I was 4 m above the final bolt on the pitch, perched on a single tiny nubbin foothold; I could see the anchor chains only another 3 m above me. In frustration and futility, I strained against the taught rope a couple of times. No use. I yelled down "I NEED MOOOOOORRRREEEE ROOOOPPEEEEE" as loudly as possible. Nick H.'s voice carried up to me clearly on the wind: "WHAAAAAT?" They had no idea what I was saying. After maybe 5 minutes of useless screaming, I heard Nick H. yell something about "simulclimbing." Perfect. Straining every muscle in my chest and leaning as far out from the wall as I dared, I bellowed "YEEEEESSSSSSSS!" Slack returned as Seamus started to climb, and I carefully smeared up to the anchor. Three more pitches fell away effortlessly below me. I looked around while belaying Seamus and Nick at the base of a massive dihedral and noticed the rock quality was degrading and that the next couple of pitches seemed, well... vegetated. Luckily, it was Nick H.'s turn to take back the lead.
The summit plateau and surrounding landscape conjured memories of Yosemite. The Eldred Valley and its various branches are rimmed by granite domes, alpine meadows and lakes, snowy peaks, and even some glaciers. However, much unlike Yosemite, the mosaic of cut blocks low in the valley was the only sign of human activity. We saw no buildings, cars, or boats. The only sounds were the wind rustling scraggly trees and the songs of hidden birds. We were truly alone. The summer solstice afforded a luxurious hour to explore the summit plateau and soak up the stunning vistas. Refreshed, we turned back to rappel the route. The descent went as smoothly as possible and we returned to the trailhead just after sunset, 16 hours car-to-car. Lacking the energy to cook a proper meal, we snacked on the ingredients we had brought along to make a chili and immediately crawled into our sleeping bags, exhausted. Sunday, 23 June, 2019Without the time or enthusiasm to tackle another route, we instead passed our final hours in the Eldred Valley exploring the area around the climber's campground. I was blown away when Nick H. told me he stayed for more than a week the previous year and had seen only 5 other climbers. The campground could easily support 50 tents. Get out there and see it for yourselves folks! The Eldred Valley is a hidden gem: the rock is fantastic (especially for fans of granite slab climbing), the landscape and climbing style give a feeling of alpine adventures, and, for the most part, a party can expect to have an entire wall to themselves. - Nick
2 Comments
Hubert Alacoque
1/15/2020 05:07:42 am
Had to change my underwear after this...!!
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