Crooked Arrow Spire and Sister Superior w/Tom

Starting the 4th pitch of Jah Man on Sister Superior

Photos

Strava - Crooked Arrow Spire

Strava - Sister Superior

Tom and I headed to the desert this weekend, hoping to link up some towers. We were blindly ambitious. Blind about the weather. Blind about there conditions. Blind about the route difficulty, the hiking difficulty, and our abilities. Oh well, we still had fun. We did a new tower and an old tower and enjoyed the awesome beauty of the desert.

We spent the night at the Rabbit Valley campground near the western border of Colorado.
The night was clear and cold. I was thankful to have my big sleeping bag. We slept out in the open, just on our pads. In the early morning hours I marveled at the stars in the sky and picked out Venus and, I think, Mars. Our sleeping bags were covered in frost and it was in the 20’s. We lingered in our warm bags until past 7 a.m. Though it only took a few minutes to pack things up, my hands were pretty wooden by the time we jumped in the car. Tom made us some coffee and that helped warm us up.

Crooked Arrow Spire

We drove to the parking lot at Ida Gulch Road. The last time I went in here, to climb Sister Superior, we could drive the wash for a mile or so. Not any more. Now you park just off the River Road. We threw down our tarp and organized our gear while eating breakfast. We originally planned to climb the Convent and then maybe link Sister Superior, so we loaded up tons of cams for both routes. It was chilly even in the sun and looking at the shaded west face of the Convent didn’t inspire us to rush. Just about then I noticed the Blackfoot Tower splitting off from the north end of Parriot Mesa. I’d forgotten about that spire, but it had been on my list for awhile. It was three pitches long with two 5.8+ chimney pitches to a long C1 bolt ladder with a few other placements. The Loobster had done it and said it was good. It looked spectacular, but more importantly, it faced east and even though most of the route was shaded, the approach was in the sun and hopefully the rock would be warm when we got there. So, in addition to all our other gear, we tossed in two sets of aiders, but no jugs. We decided that the second would aid up the pitch as well. Might as well do a bit more climbing, we thought.

We started hiking around 9:40 a.m. Very late, I know, but it was still cold. The approach we took wasn’t correct. We found that out while reading the approach description at the base of the route. We should have read that at the trailhead. Stupid. We struggled up mud, sand, very loose slopes, hard, steep slopes, and were thwarted by rock bands, but eventually arrived at the base of the route. Danny and his partners (of which I am sometimes one) always play rock-paper-scissors for the first lead. Tom and I just decide together, based upon desire. Tom was easy, so I took the first lead. After months in the gym, I was dying to climb some cracks.

Crooked Arrow Spire can barely be seen here at the far right of the sunshine on Parriot Mesa.

The climbing was a bit challenging off the deck because it was a complicated jumble of chockstones in a wide crack. I placed a couple of pieces and deciphered it. Twenty feet up, the steep climbing abruptly stopped and I entered a 2-foot wide chimney and hiked up it. Yes, hiked. The angle was probably just forty degrees and hiked up the dirt floor. It was tight, though and one short step did involve some chimney moves. Fifty feet later I had to head vertically upwards, as I hit the wall in the back.

Tom climbing deep in the Longbow Chimney of Crooked Arrow Spire

The next hundred feet of climbing was quite engaging. The cracks before me were mostly wide ones, offwidth, but I was in a tight chimney so I could use a combination of chimney moves, liebacking the wide cracks, jamming when the cracks were small enough, and some face holds turning chockstones. I started the steep climbing by liebacking with my left hand in the left off-width crack and my right hand in the right off-width crack. This worked surprisingly well.

I climbed up about forty feet and found the pitch one anchor (rope wrapped around a giant chockstone), but elected to continue up to the notch between our tower and Parriot Mesa. From there it would be one pitch to the top. Above this belay I ran out a section and then got in a #4 Camalot that was tipped out. There was no other option. A #5 Camalot would have been useful here. I carefully climbed above it and was able to sling a chockstone fifteen feet higher.

Tom leading the bolt-ladder pitch to the summit of Broken Arrow Spire.

I stopped at the notch and called “Off belay” before I noticed the two bolts twenty feet above me. I put in a single cam and slung another chockstone, as they were the only possible anchors. But the ledge was huge and I wasn’t worried. Tom followed and then led the steep 20-foot section (solved with more chimney technique, while using the finger crack for gear and additional holds) up to the 2-bolt belay ledge.

I soon joined Tom on the ledge and then he pulled out his aiders and started to get organized. He brought just three cams with him and some stoppers, along with all 17 (not enough) of our slings. It was all aid climbing from here to the summit, save for a tiny bit of scrambling at the very top. The angle was vertical to gently overhanging. Tom placed a 0.75 Camalot early and then clipped a few drilled angles before getting to a small crack where he placed a couple of stoppers to get to the next bolt. From there on up, it was bolt clipping. He ran out of slings, though. He’d already back cleaned a few of the bolts and used a single biner on others. At the very top he was using the slings on his few cams to clip the rope into the bolts. I was wearing my pile sweater and the jacket that Tom left behind when he started the lead. It was cold belaying, mainly for my hands and feet.

The northwest end of the Convent. The West Chimney climbs the big left-facing dihedral near the left edge.

When it was my turn, I knew it would be a bit more physical, as I didn’t bring my adjustable daisies. I just clipped a sling into each aider so that I wouldn’t drop them and so that I could hang in my harness from them. I figured if I needed to, Tom could take me on tension, but I didn’t any help and thing went relatively smoothly.

On top we snapped some photos, but didn’t linger long. I was glad to be in the sun and happy to have Tom descend first so that I could warm up a bit more. We only brought one 70-meter rope and this just barely works for this top pitch. We tied knots in the end of the rope and those knots jammed into my rappel device just as I hit the ledge below.

An old, aluminum hanger.

The next rappel was interesting because it was down the tight chimney. I couldn’t lean back like you’d normally do because it was too tight. I couldn’t turn 90 degrees to lean back because the chimney wasn’t wide enough. No big deal, but not often I rappel with my entire body upright.

We had to stop at the top of the first pitch on the chockstone because our rope wouldn’t have reached the ground. The last rappel was a pain because the rope just collected on the dirt floor of the lower chimney and I had to laboriously pull that tangled mound of rope down the chimney with me. At the final steep part I had to pause to untangle it and then the ropes just barely reached the ground.

It was 2:30 by the time we got the gear packed up. We knew we wouldn’t be climbing the Convent that day as well. Instead, we followed the correct path down, marked by cairns, and then down the wash to where we thought we’d approach the Convent. We dropped our packs and hiked up a couple hundred feet to find the approach trail and scope things out. We could see our intended route, the West Dihedral. It looked steep and intimidating, but was one of the easiest routes that led to the summit.

Tom rappelling in close quarters.

We hiked back to the truck and decided to head into Moab for some Mexican food at tiny Miguel’s. It was delicious. Afterwards we grabbed a coffee and then drove to the Castleton Tower camping area because it was free. We slept here and had another cold night, but stayed warm in our bags.

The next morning we drove around to the same parking lot, the Ida Gulch Equestrian Trailhead, and had coffee. Then some breakfast. Then organized gear. Then read. Then hiked around down to the river. Our route was west facing and it was cold in the direct sun. We knew we wouldn’t be able to climb until the sun hit the route. Two ladies showed up, headed for Jah Man on Sister Superior. They took their time getting ready as well and they left around 9:45. Finally, we couldn’t stand it any longer and at 10 a.m. we started hiking.

We found the path from the day before and labored up the hill, losing the best track above the one cliff band, but it seems to hardly matter here, as the trail isn’t that defined anyway. We got to the base of the route around 11:30 and found more cold, only now we were in the shade. We snacked and drank. We hiked over to the Choir Boyz (5.12-) to check it out, only because it was our descent route, not for any climbing ambitions. The start of this route is a tiny layback crack with no feet and slick sandstone. We estimated that if this route was in Movement Climbing Gym, it would be rated mid-5.13. Tom onsights 5.12- in the gym and looking at this crack my only thoughts of ascending it were in a pair of aiders. I could maybe see working this baby relentlessly on toprope and maybe in a few years after to get up it. But never in my wildest dreams could I imagine leading it free because placing gear, for me, isn't conceivable. This is why I stress to people that, while I've climbed 5.12 in the gym, I'm really max out at 5.10 in the desert. The problem is that 5.10 is where most desert climbing starts. Which also explains the incredible popularity of anything in the desert easier than 5.10.

The crawl to the start of the West Dihedral route.

We chose our route because it was the easiest route up the Convent that didn't sound like it was also dangerous choss. It is rated 5.10, but looked harder to me - no footholds, no ledges. Getting to the start is super cool, though. We had to crawl along a ledge that is sort of a tunnel, except that it is open on one side. It's a 3-foot tall crack that cuts into the tower. We could access it from the far right side and as we crawled to the north, the ground fell away until it was more than fifty feet down to the steep scree slope. Once through, it was a careful traverse on loose blocks to the base of the route, where I blanched.

Tom was worried about how cold it was and with my poor circulation, that was going to be a serious issue for me, but if the climbing had looked easier, I'd have pushed to start up. I didn't though. And the longer we lingered at the base, indecisiveness ate at us, eroding our psyche and our confidence until there was little left. We discussed options and I even suggested going for a hike in the sun. I turn tail so easily these days. I've got some toughening up to do before I head to Fitz Roy. Around 12:30 p.m. we finally decided to retreat, save this route for better conditions, and go climb Jah Man on Sister Superior, a route we'd both done before.

Tom at the top of the Sister Squeeze flake.

At first we tried to traverse along the base of the tower, hoping to run the ridge all the way over to Sister Superior, but the slope was so steep and so loose, that it didn't seem safe. Two aborts for the price of one. Our ego sufficiently battered, we descended the slope, passing a running stream (from where? bubbling out of the ground!) doing considerable damage to the stability of the slope. Once back in the wash, we headed another half mile or so south before finding the cairn marking the route up to Sister Superior.

We had hoped by getting to the spire so late that no other parties would be clogging up the route. We figured they would all be well up the route, or descending. But there could have been multiple parties queued at the base. The 1500-foot trudge up the slope in the sun was fitting punishment for our whining about the cold. I cursed my black pants and slowed my pace as the angle increased. We got to the base of the route around 2:30 p.m. Gonzo, the two ladies' white Chihuahua, came down the trail a bit to greet us. The good news was that only two parties were up here. The bad news was that one party was just starting up the second pitch. In my younger days I've have been bothered by this and raced up, trying to pass them. Nowadays, I'm more mellow, or more accurately, less of an asshole. It was really nice in the sun, so we relaxed, shot photos, ate our lunch, and played with Gonzo.

The crux of pitch 3 is traversing left at the bolt.

The party above us was a man and woman. The guy led the Sister Squeeze pitch and the woman took over for the next two crack pitches. They clearly hadn't read my Speed Climbing book, because they were like so many teams: just amazingly slow at change-overs. You don't have to rush, in the slightest, to change over leaders in two minutes. That would look very casual if you watched a team doing it. These two took 10-15 minutes even when they didn't switch leaders. Oh well. To each his own. The two women we met in the parking lot were finishing up the fourth pitch. The second was doing a fair amount of dangling on the rope and I got the impression that she was being guided. They arrived at the trailhead in separate vehicles and that added to my impression.

We waited at the base until the leader got through the crux of the third pitch. She took one fall and then aided up on three pieces before continuing. Once she was through it, I started up. I strung the first, short 5.9 pitch (really a boulder problem), into the 5.8 Sister Squeeze chimney pitch and joined the guy, Aaron, at the top of the second pitch. Tom was starting up before Aaron started following the third pitch.

Tom starting up the short, summit pitch.

Before Tom started to lead, he wanted the upper belay cleared of all but one person. Soon after Tom arrived at my belay, the ladies from above hit the third pitch belay on their way down. The other party didn't seem to even prepare for the next pitch until both ladies had rappelled off and pulled their rope. So different from my style. So, we waited another 15 minutes on the giant flake. At least it was comfortable. Tom asked if I was taking a headlamp up the route, but I didn't. I figured if we ran out of time, we'd just rap off, without the summit. Blasphemy, I know.

Tom styled up the 0.75-Camalot crack with good footwork and powerful jamming. He clipped the bolt at the crux and then pinched the flake and powered up to the stance. He cruised the 5.9 crack above and was soon at the belay. I followed, taking advantage of his beta and the toprope. I was glad to have lots of gym training when I got to the face climbing and made it cleanly through.

The fourth pitch is rated 10b and is tight hands - #1 Camalot size - but it has occasional edges for your feet and I took great advantage of these. The pitch is spectacularly steep and has bomber gear, so it seems very safe. Even a longish fall wouldn't have you hit anything, not that I'd want to take a long fall. I felt pretty solid on the first two thirds of the pitch, but the final section doesn't have any good footholds and the crack is very tight hands. I solved the last problem by locking off a marginal jam and making a big reach to a face hold. Above there is a short bit of unprotected, but easy face climbing and I joined Aaron's partner, Thuvia Maid of Mars (or something like that), on the spacious belay ledge.

Looking at the elusive Convent from the summit of Sister Superior. Next time...

Tom led the last pitch, which is about thirty feet long: climb ten easy feet and clip a bolt; climb ten more challenging feet and clip two bolts right next to each other; do a really hard face move to a jug and then scamper ten more feet to the summit. Tom took quite a while before he committed to the move and made it look easy. Following, I had two choices for my left hand and chose the lower, more positive, though tiny, crimp. I stepped up on the one foothold, which is the size of a pencil eraser tip, and then found I couldn't reach the jug. I couldn't reverse the move. I tried in vain to find another foothold. Before falling off I made a lunge for the jug and got it. It was the closest I came to falling on the route and I thought this was the crux move by a long shot, though just a single move.

We took photos on top before doing three single-rope (with a 70-meter line) rappels back to the ground. What a great climb. I highly recommend it. It is a low-commitment, very well-protected, well bolted route with great ledges at the top of each pitch. There is only one caveat. I noticed in the comments on mountainproject.com that David Champion (an old friend of mine) mentioned that the Sister Squeeze chimney widened three inches from 2013 to 2017. While I was belaying Tom on the third pitch, I was sitting on this flake and the two ladies were setting up their final rappel on the far end. All three of us heard a rumbling of rocks that scared the crap out of us. We saw no rocks fall anywhere. My guess is that the flake settled again. I suspect, based on this movement and David's comments, that this gigantic flake might not last my lifetime. I just hope I'm not near it when it falls. Along those same lines, though on a much smaller level, there is a comment by Max Schon on this same site about the handhold flake is "going to break off, someday soon." He wrote that January 28, 2004 - 15 years ago. Turns out that little flake might outlast the monstrous Sister Squeeze flake...

Rappelling our route - steep it is.

We packed up and hiked out, getting to the truck at 7:45 p.m. just before it got too dark to hike without turning on our headlamps. After a quick dinner of ravioli, Tom drove us all the way home, arriving at 2:30 a.m. We didn't get done what we had hoped to do, but we did climb two towers and the desert never seems to disappoint us.

The Sister Squeeze flake. How long will it remain upright?