365 True Things: 207/Joshua Tree

In this morning's workshop, we were instructed to think about a place that resonated for us. A couple of places popped into my head, but soon I found myself wandering, a little girl of eight or so, around a campsite in Joshua Tree National (then) Monument. That place does resonate for me, always in a good way.


We were then instructed to write in the present tense about the place in question. I did, from my eight-year-old vantage point. It ended up being an interesting journey, with me scampering around the rocks at the camp, taking a brief detour (in past tense—oops) to Cochise Stronghold in Arizona, then back (that same morning) to Joshua Tree, but this time communing with the spirits of people—cattle rustlers, the law, the Native Americans who left their mark on the rocks with pictographs—long dead.

I love Joshua Tree and have been there many times. I am fortunate enough to have a couple of friends (brothers of my good friend Kathi) who own small houses—cabins—very near the northern entrance station. I've gone there on retreat with artist friends, writing friends, photography friends. The place, including those cabins and their exquisite setting, always makes me happy.

Eschar, Trashcan Rock, 5.4

I've also been to JT a number of times rock climbing. It's an interesting place to climb because so many routes were put up back in the early days of the sport, when the equipment was minimal and only so much was "possible."

In those days (the 1950s), the hardest rated climb, one called "Open Book" at a place called Tahquitz/Suicide Rock, was rated 5.9 (with the easiest, "The Trough," also at Tahquitz, rated 5.0).

(The 5 stands for "fifth class," an evolution of Sierra Club assessments of terrain difficulty. Class 5 means rope assistance is required—for normal mortals. First class is walking on level ground, second is rougher ground, third requires low-angle climbing, fourth is steeper but still navigable without protection, and sixth is "aid" climbing.)

At Joshua Tree, though, many climbs are rated 5.8+. What's that about?

As people started climbing more and more, at Joshua Tree and elsewhere, and as equipment improved, it became increasingly clear that there were plenty of routes that were plenty harder than "Open Book." But the rating system only went to 5.9. So anything that was pretty darn hard but yet humanly impossible? It got rated 5.8+.

That all changed in the 1960s, when new ratings were added—not just 5.10, 5.11, etc., but 5.10a,b,c,d; 5.11a,b,c,d; etc. As of 2013, the hardest climbs in the world were 5.15c: "Change," in a cave in Flatanger, Norway; and "La Dura Dura," in Oliana, Spain.

If you think about it, from 5.0 to 5.9 is ten steps; from 5.10 to 5.15c is
. . . one, two, three, four . . . twenty-three steps.

So since the day in 1952 that "Open Book" had its first ascent by Royal Robbins and was rated the hardest climb in the world, climbs many, many, many times more challenging have been put up. The 5.15c's don't get climbed often, but they've been climbed more than once.

I can't imagine.

Which brings me back to Joshua Tree and "sandbagging," as it's called when routes are actually harder (sometimes much harder) than their rating suggests. You can't really trust the ratings of any routes in JT that were put up back in the heyday—and that's an awful lot of routes.

So you always look at the guidebook to see when the first ascent was made. And by whom. And anything that's rated 5.8+? Just forget it. (Once a rating is assigned, it never gets revised. Even if it's a total sandbag.)

Probably the hardest climb I've followed at JT was the three-pitch Bird on a Wire (5.10a; first ascent 1977), on Lost Horse Wall. The hardest I've led was the neighboring Dappled Mare (5.8; FA 1973), four nice pitches.

Walk on the Wild Side

The scariest climb I ever did at JT was Walk on the Wild Side (5.8; FA 1970). Not because it was technically all that difficult, but because of wind, and a stuck rope, and watching David tiptoe a traverse waaaaaaaaaaaay to the left to get it unstuck. If he'd fallen . . . it would have been bad. Very bad. (Me, I had rapped down on the other end of the rope and was watching, heart in mouth, from below.) But he managed to whip the end free, then veeeeeeerrrrrry carefully cinched (and inched) his way back until he was directly over me. Then down he came, and all was good again.

I haven't been climbing at Joshua Tree in years. Writing about it now—and having had my spirit encounters this morning—makes me want to go back and give it another go. But will I? Are my rock climbing days behind me?

God, I hope not.

I've moaned in these posts a few times about wanting more adventure. But at my age, perhaps my adventuring should be more sedate?

That is not a thought I am willing to entertain. Not just yet.