Mt. Russell and the Wall of Death
Posted: Tue Aug 07, 2007 9:59 pm
http://good-times.webshots.com/album/56 ... /FullAlbum
Last Friday through Sunday, I resolved to finally do the Whitney Mountaineer Route (having done the regular trail some 20 times!), and to challenge my psyche on Mt. Russell. There's a Richard Thompson song called "The Wall of Death" (nominally about a roller coaster ride), which is the name I've always associated with Russell.
Hiking up the fantastically steep North Fork trail on Friday with a 45 pound pack (ironically, I who hates the bear canister actually brought one on the mistaken assumption that bears could find there way up there) wasn't much fun (neither was going down it!). But the MR on Saturday was a thrill -- so much fun to climb class 3 rock and suddenly emerge to see that familiar hut. The weather finally cleared too -- it had been raining all week apparently.
Saturday night and Sunday morning, the wind had kicked up something fierce. I debated just packing out, but decided to brave the gusts and hike up the gully to the Russell/Carillon plateau. From there it was such a short hike to Carillon, I did it, even though I wasn't having much fun in the wind. And I figured the wind would make a good excuse for not doing Russell. But then I decided to at least hike down to the pass at the base of Russell. And then I convinced myself to hike up the easy Class 2 hill just to get a better look at the fantastic spine of the beast. Since I knew I wasn't going to have to face the fear of actually climbing that spine, it was no problem. By then the wind had actually ebbed a bit. So then I convinced myself to hike up to the part where the intense exposure starts. Since it didn't seem that bad, I kept going and before I knew it the East summit loomed over me. Then I knew there was no avoiding destiny, so I went for it, and then the West summit.
It was the most glorious climb I've ever done. Not the scariest -- that would have to be Abbott. But Abbott was shortly to be surpassed:
I was so exultant at having summited that I decided to take a different route down fom the plateau. I thought I was doing the so-called Rockwell Variation, but it turned out to be the Rock Hell variation. Or the Rock Head variation...almost literally. Anyway, I ended up encountering the real Wall of Death, which you can see in the last photo. Three-quarters of the way down, I got myself into a trap where I couldn't climb back up, and ahead of me faced a 20 foot slope on a steep, completely smooth boulder. At the end of the boulder was a solid rock on the left, but sheer air in the center and on the right. I was clinging to hang on to where I was and couldn't hold much longer. So I first let my daypack go, and it sailed right over the edge, its water bottles and bones sickeningly exploding and smashing everywhere. But, still, I realized my only chance was to let go myself, and try to fling my body over to the left where the rock would stop my slide. As the life wrenched out of my stomach, I launched. Seconds later I found my right hand clinging to a protuberance on the rock I was aiming for, with the rest of me poised over the edge of the cliff, on my back and upside down (head-first). I was able to pull myself back up...or else I wouldn't be typing this post today.
Don't try this at home!
Last Friday through Sunday, I resolved to finally do the Whitney Mountaineer Route (having done the regular trail some 20 times!), and to challenge my psyche on Mt. Russell. There's a Richard Thompson song called "The Wall of Death" (nominally about a roller coaster ride), which is the name I've always associated with Russell.
Hiking up the fantastically steep North Fork trail on Friday with a 45 pound pack (ironically, I who hates the bear canister actually brought one on the mistaken assumption that bears could find there way up there) wasn't much fun (neither was going down it!). But the MR on Saturday was a thrill -- so much fun to climb class 3 rock and suddenly emerge to see that familiar hut. The weather finally cleared too -- it had been raining all week apparently.
Saturday night and Sunday morning, the wind had kicked up something fierce. I debated just packing out, but decided to brave the gusts and hike up the gully to the Russell/Carillon plateau. From there it was such a short hike to Carillon, I did it, even though I wasn't having much fun in the wind. And I figured the wind would make a good excuse for not doing Russell. But then I decided to at least hike down to the pass at the base of Russell. And then I convinced myself to hike up the easy Class 2 hill just to get a better look at the fantastic spine of the beast. Since I knew I wasn't going to have to face the fear of actually climbing that spine, it was no problem. By then the wind had actually ebbed a bit. So then I convinced myself to hike up to the part where the intense exposure starts. Since it didn't seem that bad, I kept going and before I knew it the East summit loomed over me. Then I knew there was no avoiding destiny, so I went for it, and then the West summit.
It was the most glorious climb I've ever done. Not the scariest -- that would have to be Abbott. But Abbott was shortly to be surpassed:
I was so exultant at having summited that I decided to take a different route down fom the plateau. I thought I was doing the so-called Rockwell Variation, but it turned out to be the Rock Hell variation. Or the Rock Head variation...almost literally. Anyway, I ended up encountering the real Wall of Death, which you can see in the last photo. Three-quarters of the way down, I got myself into a trap where I couldn't climb back up, and ahead of me faced a 20 foot slope on a steep, completely smooth boulder. At the end of the boulder was a solid rock on the left, but sheer air in the center and on the right. I was clinging to hang on to where I was and couldn't hold much longer. So I first let my daypack go, and it sailed right over the edge, its water bottles and bones sickeningly exploding and smashing everywhere. But, still, I realized my only chance was to let go myself, and try to fling my body over to the left where the rock would stop my slide. As the life wrenched out of my stomach, I launched. Seconds later I found my right hand clinging to a protuberance on the rock I was aiming for, with the rest of me poised over the edge of the cliff, on my back and upside down (head-first). I was able to pull myself back up...or else I wouldn't be typing this post today.
Don't try this at home!
