My belayer ducks a rock. "Sorry," I call, even though the rope knocked it off, not me. "I think we can safely say this is a first ascent," he comments, as I lower off.
I blink furiously to clear eyes caked with debris - gray and green lichen, dirt clods, dead bugs, rat poop. My arms, my hair, my clothes are a palette of particulates.
"It'll clear up," I promise.
Established crags are a world apart: routes are obvious from the deck - follow the chalk. Cracks are clean and chockstones are stable. Anything really loose came tumbling long ago and the best holds are polished from years of grippage.
In contrast, this site is a mess. Rodent crap piles on ledges, each crevice and rest hold. How did the rats get up here? Will I get hantavirus if I disturb the deposits? Is this hold even attached to anything? Shouldn't I be at The Pit today? At least I'm on toprope.
"Sweet" Bill Mason wants to try something cleaner. I'm all for that. There's a few steeply overhanging - though solid-looking - cracks over by the water. We tie in from the top and lower to tiny ledges just above the murky pool. Probably full of barbed wire and toxic waste lurking in the eutrophic depths. A crawdad swims under my feet with pinchers ready. And I'm stuck right over it, about eight feet away from the rock.
"You forget to swing," Sweet Mason calls down.
Great. Suspended over this bubbling hell pit. Dangling, I take off my rock shoes, hold them in one hand, and swing out wildly with the other, while kicking the surface of the water with my toes.
This is adventure climbing at its least glamorous. Have to kick in to the rock, desperately flailing above the cesspool as Mason laughs overhead.
"Arg," I mutter. "Ung! Arrgh!"
Graceless, yet it works. My swinging, gyrating arcs bring fingertips to the rock, then my foot to kick off, and finally I grab a ledge.Got it.
"Unck!" I shout, letting go. Rat scat cascades from my hand, manna from Heaven.
My next swing brings me close in - I slap blindly at the rock, hang on and giggle like a child. I haven't started the climb yet have a mad sense of achievement.
I put on my shoes, one handed, over wet slimy feet, then climb.
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