Pedrick's Chimney

Climbed Pedrick's Chimney last weekend.

It's named after Ben Pedrick, who first climbed it in 1947. Gary Driggs' 2008 book on the history of Camelback has this picture of Pedrick and another early pioneer of local climbing, Ralph Pateman. In this screen shot from the Google Books version of the Driggs book, there appears to be a mistake. Pedrick's Chimney, of course, is not on Bobby's Rock, but on Gargoyle Wall, just down the lane a bit from Hart Route. There's a Pedrick's Split, 5.3, on Bobby's Rock, but I've never bothered to climb it because it's so short. Someday I should do that one, though, and a Pateman first ascent, the 5.7 Pateman's Cave.





Here's the description of the Pedrick's route on Google Boooks. And here's the one from Rock Climbing Arizona.





Both of these sources, like the venerable Phoenix Rock by Jim Waugh, (cover of this awesome book, which supposedly is selling for $49.99 on Amazon, at left), rate Pedrick's Chimney at 5.1, and it is, by straight-up climbing standards. However, note that it's got a "consensus" rating of 5.2 on Mountain Project. I can see why. In the rock gym, it would be a 5.7, partially just due to its length. But for the leader, which I was last weekend, the climb becomes something more than a mere walk-up.

I hadn't intended on climbing anything on lead -- my pack was rigged for free-soloing. I'd intended to climb the 5.1 I did in 2008, or, more likely, the Headwall, then rappel down Pedrick's (after the 5.1 into August Canyon) or Rappel Gully (if I'd done the Headwall). Instead, my buddy Brian decided to join me, and I wanted him to do something that got us into the stratosphere, since he's done mostly short outdoor climbs. That's an important reason I love climbing at Camelback so much -- the walls there are nothing to sneer at, with some routes going well over 300 feet.








Anyhoo, because doing that route hadn't been on the agenda when I'd thrown a few things in my approach pack that morning, I didn't have enough quick-draws to properly lead the route. That didn't stop me, mind you, but it did make the lead feel a lot more like an adventure. Yeah, I know what you're thinking -- isn't that the whole theme of this blog? Well, sure -- but I'd have liked to have had two extra draws and maybe a cam or two to really sew it up. As it was, I used up the first quick draw to give myself a modicum of protection on the lower part of the 80-foot climb, so when I got to the overhang in the crack, I only had one left.





The bolt that quick-draw went into is a good 35 feet or so above the last one, so if it pulled out, there'd be a strong possibility of decking out. At best, it would be a horrific fall with guaranteed extreme injury -- again, that's if the bolt pulled. It's a fairly new, still shiny bolt no doubt left by the Arizona Mountaineering Club. Maybe in the 2000s, probably in the '90s. It probably wouldn't pull out. But I led Pedrick's as if it would have. I don't really like trusting my life to one bolt in Camelback rock. And there's a way to climb in the crack by wriggling in it like a caterpillar. Not pretty, but it's a no-fall method, as far as I'm concerned, meaning that at no point would a slip of any one hold result in a fall. I knew Pedrick's could be climbed like that because I free-soloed it a few years ago.

I've also climbed Pedrick's two or three times on lead, with the requisite number of quick draws, and found it quite easy and enjoyable. It's best to stay out of the crack near the top, it should go without saying, and stem on the outside. The rock quality here is pretty good, with all -- strike that -- most of the loose stuff in the main portion of the climb having been washed out or pulled off by climbers over time.

This is an incredibly enjoyable climb for a moderate leader like myself because it's tall, but never scary. Just a fun, vertical walk in the park. Being in August Canyon is another of its rewards -- I've written of the joys of that hideaway before.

The route is only a one-star, I'd say. But as always, that's pretty good for being in the middle of town. It would be a great confidence builder for a beginning leader. Brian, who had a few outdoor climbs under his belt before getting on this one, had a great time.

Most experienced Camelback climbers know Pedrick's as the way down, not necessarily a way up. It's the standard descent for Hart Route, Misgivings and other Gargoyle climbs. My friend Mike and I, back in the day, tried to make our way over to Pedrick's once after climbing Suicide Direct. Our path through the maze of August Canyon was blocked by bees. A galaxy of them. This was before killer bees were widespread in the Valley, but we beat a retreat and decided to rap the route we'd climbed. That turned out to nearly be a hell of a mistake. With only one one rope, we had a dreadful moment while clipped into slings on the bolted ledge mid-way up the route's 2nd pitch, when we pulled on the rope to get it down and it got stuck. Somehow -- perhaps untangled by the sometimes helpful, sometimes gremlin-like "rock gods," as we cheekily call the mountains' unseen forces.

Roadrunner Greets Crowds as Fall Hiking Season Finally Arrives

Camelback was an anthill today, as expected. That's fine with me. The weather has finally turned and it's great to see so many people out enjoying the day.

A couple of dudes pointed out a roadrunner on the way down, not too far from the top. First one I've seen up there. It had a small lizard, maybe a grasshopper, in its mouth.

Circle of life, man.

Bike and Climb

In the interest of ramping up the adventure and exercise quotient, a few weeks ago I committed to one of my favorite tortures -- a bike and climb. I live 10 miles from the mountain, so it's a decent work-out.



The Papago hills seem to be made out of the pink substance as Camelback, and I think they are conglomerate like the Head area, which has most of Camelback's climbing routes. The vertical terrain at Papago is much more crumbly, though.

When biking in this area, I always try to make it up Galvin Parkway and over the hills on McDowell. The Valley's mostly flat as a bicycling town, of course.



Even though this was in September, it was still darned hot. Hate to keep returning to this theme, but not long after I'd locked up the bike and begun hiking, I saw a guy carrying a dog on his back. About a 35-40 pounder, kind of a cute mongrel with a black snout. It was panting heavily.

"Is he okay?" I asked as they went by.

"He's just tired." Said the guy.



Almost as annoying as people who push their pets to the limit -- people who leave dog's crap in a little bag on the sides of trails. Do these people honestly think there's an official, and free, poop pick-up service? It's an outrage to see these reminders of mankind's haughtiness.

Not that I bother to pick them up. Someone else will do it.

Below, coming back on McDonald, looking south. Unless you're a CEO or use McDonald to get from south Scottsdale to central Phoenix, this isn't your typical view of the mountain.




All in all, a fun few hours. Except for nearly passing out from heat exhaustion on the way back. I felt incredibly drained. The humidity was high and the temp about 102, with strong sunlight since I began this one at about 11. After a long summer of hot hikes, this late-summer bike-and-hike tested my internal temperature controls.

Climbahiking

Hiking at Camelback is an adventure every time. One doesn’t hike Camelback as much as climb it. The rock-steps on Echo Canyon trail are of varying height and shape, and sometimes loose. The trail includes slick-rock and gravel and high-steps and steep drop-offs and shortcuts and tree-grabs and semi-vertical faces and boulder fields and railroad ties that are fun to bound down and handrails (I have personal rules about when they can be used). Cholla’s not bad, either, with its scrambly top. Both trails have some of what I would consider Class Three terrain.

I notice sometimes that the technique I'm using when I go down Camelback is the same monkey-careful gait that I employ on more-serious mountain hikes. It’s hard to describe, and it doesn’t look all that different from mere hiking down a steep slope, but it is different. It’s more like climbing down with my feet. I’m more centered in my gravity, more balanced in the arms, more ready in case I slip than when hiking down an easier trail.

I'm not one to usually say "I'm going to climb Camelback today" when I mean I'm going to hike to the top. For me, climbing at Camelback means rock-climbing. But to hike Camelback is, in many pleasurable ways, to climb it.

Yosemites in Our Backyard

This guy at the summit recently told me he was going to Yosemite in a few days and we chatted for a moment about the waterfall deaths. That was in mid-July. Since then, the total number of fatalities has increased to 14 this summer, with a woman plummeting 600 feet after slipping on the cable route. That's the park service number. Another person, a teen, slipped on Mist Trail and suffered a fatal injury, but he didn't make the official tally because he died at a hospital outside the park.

I’ve ascended the cables twice and descended three times, (once following my ascent of the Snake Dike route). Those cables can get crazy-slippery. Each time I made some use of the gloves that pile up on the top and bottom of the cable route, and each time realized that the gloves may help the hands in terms of endurance on the thick twists of metal and soak up some sweat, they aren’t all that grippier. In ’91, my friend Kent and I descended the Dike in a thunderstorm. We topped out on Half Dome in a white-out. It hailed, then poured. Most of the hikers caught at the top were under-prepared, a few in nothing but shorts and a T-shirt. What the heck, it was July. Kent and I wore Gore-tex rainjackets (and our backpacks with all the climbing gear, including an extra rope we hadn’t needed), and would have been fine except for one of the hikers ahead of us was not only freezing-cold, but near-frozen in terror. A man, perhaps he was with her, had to resort to moving her hands down the cable for her – for a few tense moments, she could not do it on her own. We and others trying to get down the 400-foot cable-and-wood-slat ladder grumbled in frustration. The longer we lingered, it seemed, the greater the chance of losing concentration or getting struck by lightning. I had to remove the gloves at one point, worried that their surface had grown too slick. I’ll never forget the feel of that wet cable as I gripped it, hard, that sense that I wasn't grasping it hard enough and applying more power to my hands. It took serious effort, and my fingers were stiff with the cold. All the while, I was more than aware of the steep grade and how we were still very high up, above the tips of the tallest redwoods near the base of the cable route.

Spooky. But overall, a fantastic time.

The reaction of the Yosemite park rangers to the record number of fatalities this year is just what I prefer to hear from local officials – and so far, thankfully, have been hearing – every time someone gets hurt or killed at Camelback and other mountain parks. Their message: Risk, yes -- restrictions, no.

I find that refreshing.

Despite tragic deaths like that of Clint McHale’s, an even greater tragedy would be to try to clamp down on adventuring in wild places. Camelback is one of those wild places. It’s in the middle of the 5th largest city in the United States, but that fact means absolutely nothing when you’re leading, soloing or free-soloing a climbing route there. I’ve had adventures at Camelback that rival those I’ve had in Yosemite, and more of them, since it’s only 10 miles from my home. Some of these adventures were had when rock-climbing was new to me and my friends and I practiced a form of it that focused, in an amateurish and unathletic way, on the sheer thrill, exploration and independence from any authority. When winding through one of the maze-like slots of August Canyon, battling thorny Palo Verdes, mesquite and various cacti, searching for the rap-down on Pedrick’s Chimney after having just ascended a multi-pitch route like Suicide Direct -- I’ve felt downright astronautic. As in, I’m walking on the moon. Mind, body and soul are brought together by wilderness, risk and achievement.




Camelback is one of our local Yosemites. So are the Supes. A few words about the Superstition Mountains: If they weren't so darn far away from the central Valley, I'd love to live in the shadows of the western cliffs of the Superstition Mountains, the little community over by the Mining Camp restaurant. Older homes, lots of variation, zoning free-for-all on county land, some properties requiring water to be trucked in. A somewhat weird place, just east of Apache Junction. But the ability to walk out of my home and into the Supes, a federal wilderness area... Wow. I mean, this is a place where I've seen whole herds of javelina. The trails are tough and rewarding, and going back just a few miles leaves 99 percent of the people behind. The walls there are humbling because even when you're really high up, they go even higher. Unfortunately, the rock quality isn't Yosemite-like: Instead of miracle-granite, you get so-so volcanic. Some spots are solid, others crumbly. Many of the biggest walls on the western flanks of the Supes contain unclimbable coffee-cake-like rock. Whenever I hike up Siphon Draw Gully trail, I stare up in awe at the Spiderwalk wall, that behemoth, conical mass of beige stone the size of a 50-story building that I and a friend climbed one day long ago. The stunning view from the saddle of Weaver's Needle at the end of Peralta Trail is also Yosemite-esque in its grandeur. The preserve is so big and rugged that two years ago, a guy looking for gold disappeared in there without a trace, and last year, the same thing happened to three other guys.

No question: Yosemite’s beauty and climate far surpasses Camelback’s or the Superstitions. But for outdoor adventure, it sure is great to have a couple of little Yosemites in our backyard.

Camelback Mountain Parking Isn't Always So Bad

To get a great spot, you just have to know when to go.

Accident, Videos and Others Internet Finds

My quest to troll the Internet for memorable stories about Camelback continues:




Clint McHale

I found an accident in May to be particularly troubling. It was hard to tell why the guy decided to climb, why he got himself into his predicament and why he fell. The rest was history -- I shouldn't have, but I did listen to the 911 call on one of the TV news sites. Horrible. The victim's distraught sister turned to activism: she wants the public to better understand that hiking and/or climbing can be dangerous.

I agree with her completely, and that's one of the reasons I enjoy those activities. Hiking and exploring Camelback sure beats stomping a treadmill at the gym in front of a TV screen. While it's riskier to venture out of one's home or other "controlled environments," the rewards are well worth the gamble. Not that it's much of a gamble, as long as you keep your head.

Having already injured a heel, elbow and knee, I don't need any more broken bones or severed ligaments. Making a fatal mistake -- yikes, that's gotta be out of the question. But I do take some risks at Camelback, and feel the better for it.

Why do people exceed their limits on Camelback in such an extreme way? Perhaps it's the ultra-urban location, right in the middle of the metro area, as accessible as a major museum would be in Boston or D.C. Still, climbing into the unknown at Camelback with no equipment, not even rock shoes? Camelback climbing requires the utmost caution, with extra attention paid to the rock conditions and route-finding. Only the victim and the survivor know for sure what went wrong.

I asked Adele, the NT fellow I took rock-climbing last month, if she wanted to write up something for Valley Fever based on the police report that had just been released. Here's what she wrote. The report, which I got back from her, has the GPS coordinates of the accident site, so I've been thinking about going there to scope the place out and see if it's a recognized climbing area.

360 View of Trailhead Area

I played with this for more than a few minutes. The picture quality is outstanding and I like how you can sweep up or down.

Iron Legs

The following video has some fairly ballsey stunts, including running down the slickrock section about halfway up the Echo Canyon side.




Cough, Cough

In this next video, a couple of dudes toke up on the Bobby's Rock trail, just east of Bobby's Rock over a saddle. Nice few of Phoenix from that spot. Judging by the insane amount of hacking these guys do, this is either the best or the worst dope they could be smoking. "If we fall here, we could die," one of them says.


http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif



Leaps of Faith

This was one of two videos I found featuring BASE jumpinghttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif off a wall in Camelback. Seems almost suicidal to me. Too much could go wrong.

FYI, these jumps are from the big wall just south of Bobby's Rock, and they land in front of Bobby's Rock. Karabin's fold-out guide describes the BASE-jumpers launch zone as a "Huge 300' foot wall." I think it's much bigger, possibly in excess of 500 feet, which is considered a minimum safe height by most BASE jumpers.

Karabin's guide also notes a Karabin first ascent on the wall called Three-Star Nightmare, (also seen on www.rockclimbing.com), which he only gives two stars.





Subject: Camelback

The level of detail in the next video gets a bit mind-numbing, but I liked Mr. Bennett's amateur videography and his glowing review of the hike. He thought it was at least twice, if not three or four times as challenging as Piestewa Peak. I don't agree with that and would say it's more like 15-25 percent tougher, having many times hiked both in the same week. Echo Canyon has a few sections that are steeper than anything on Piestewa, while Cholla presents scrambling opportunities near the top that Piestewa doesn't offer until it's final thirty feet. Bennett's Thailand interlude is mildly entertaining.



1.27 Miles - My Hike Up Camelback Mountain from David Michael Bennett on Vimeo.



Tough Hike

This one is so-so, with a guy who claims to be afraid of heights hiking Cholla Trail. One thing I found amusing -- at the end the main guy shows off his Vibram Five-Finger shoes and confesses that wearing them wasn't a good idea.

The video appears to be a promotion for a T-shirt company. I'm leaving this one on here for one reason only: To let you know these guys suck. I gave them money for a T-shirt but they didn't send it or respond to e-mails.