Ridgeline

12-12-04 Ridgeline:

We walked through a wet, and patchy snow for 22 minutes to reach the ranked climbs of the Ridgeline face. The weather service reports proclaimed a balmy 78f for Tucson Basin, but at 7500 feet, it was decidely chilly in the shade. There were no footprints to follow, so I imagine we were the first climbers there since the last week's 12-17 inch snowfall. Last season's "senicio" were still raised in all their tired, grey-headed glory above the discontinuous sheets of a snow that never seemed more than four inches deep, and scarcely impeded our progress. At the swale between the Ridgeline and Boneyard areas, we took a few moments to gaze across the valley systems that lie to the north, and actually had to wipe the sweat of our trek from our brows as we viewed the far off wonders of the deep, cupiferous vales of tje San Pedro. We reached the cliff face at a bit past noon (yep, another late starting day). The base zone was almost entirely free of snow, and rarely even dampened by the melt. So, high, dry, and actually warm, we assayed the first four climbs -- ranged from the left end of the formation.

I first led what must have been a 5.7, possibly 5.8 climb (fourth from the left) just beyond "Fire-zone." What a little gem! The introductory moves, if done straight below the first bolt, were decidely engaging, forcing me into broad stems and thumb mantles over some excellently solid, but not all that massive a series of holds. I think I even stretched left to tuck a single digit into an insecure undercling in my efforts to advance my aging, overweight body up that face. About 20 feet off the deck one encounters a roofish feature. Going up and right over the bolt on the brow was actually quite thrilling -- small holds, somewhat rounded, before finally finding a "bomber" ledge that allowed a decently exciting pull-up to the easier swells above.

Somewhat trepidous, after this first assault, I down-climbed the same sequence on a generously slack top-rope, and built up my confidence when I found it was not as desperate as it might have been (I usually find that downclimbing adds two letter grades of difficulty). Emboldened by the obvious fact that a near three month layoff had not produced a total collapse of my climbing skills (never better than intermediate anyway) I headed for "Fire-zone," the next climb to our left.

Here, despite my recent gain in non-useful body mass, I found the initial mantle move -- right palm down, and body held in close -- to be fairly reasonable. The quick reach up to the 6 inch wide quarter inch deep ledge above was a good stretch for my 5'8" frame, but its ragged edge was highly "grippable," and the nasty section of this climb was soon finished. Bolt clipped, and I gave the next, ready handhold a suspicion-filled second glance -- it is a hollow, nearly detached flaked with bright sunlight showing underneath... Still, it held. Above came a few insignificant moves, another clip and a strange semi-layback with finger purchase solely relegated to an oblique, almost hidden hold where friction rather than a positive, clinching grip allowed me to step up and find a beautiful, oblique crack into which I could sink my fingers deeply just as the dynamics of the climb forced almost all of body weight upon one hand. Whew! A bomber hold in need, indeed! From here the mount could be finished in relative security, and the rest of the run to the twin anchors above was not particularly remarkable, but for a tired, old man it was a welcome respite from the exertions below.

The down-climb here was actually more fluid, I thought, and the swing from the oblique holds had a certain eloquence and grace that were lacking in my ascent. Reversing the mantle below the first bolt required a more "mind-engaging" effort, but I surprised myself in that I actually powered my way through the sequence even though a minute "tooth" on the mantle ledge bit deeply enough to produce blood as I negociated the dismount. An excellent climb!

Next, we approached something called "Sizzy Boyz Eight," and I fully expected it to be a breeze. It is listed as a 5.8+, but certainly it could not be anyway as formidable a challenge to the intermediate climber as "Fire-zone" with its 510- rating... Well. I was feeling almost cocky as I started this route, so I eschewed the easy holds to the left and went straight up the thinner face directly below the first bolt. I even restricted my use of stems here, hoping to "artificially" pump some character into this "Sissy" climb. My mistake. Hubris -- bad stuff, should be left at home.

Above the first bolt, I was able to handily clip number two, while looking with some concern upon the remants of an earlier placement that informed me this particular area of the climb must have taken many hits, necessitating a "re-placement." Maybe. Or maybe just a bad placement? Either way, I was alerted! A good thing too, as the next moves got pronouncedly obdurate for just a "sissies'" climb. Intricate, tentative placements of left foot, combined with right hand fingers clawing for purchase on a shap, inch and quarter wide ledge about 1/8th inch deep, allowed me enough confidence to strech up and clip bolt three. I almost lost it there, I'll claim that my lay-off and gained pounds nearly did me in, but honestly, I was nearly overmatched.

The 5.10- mantle of "Firezone" is at least obvious, but the next move on this "sissy" climb is NOT! Up and left, at the extreme limit of my carcasses' stretch, I found a triangular platform, two inches broad, an inch deep, slanted out and downward, and rather slick in texture. OK, I was slightly desperate at this point, my left shoulder was making all those "chuckling" sounds my doctor calls "crepitations" -- as bone grinds into bone -- and I figured I'd be dropping soon. But, more by instinct than "proper-managed" climbing technique, my left foot stabbed out to find a bracing purchase against the left face of the shallow dihedral. Stabilized, my right hand left the manky razor holds and fumbled above the mini-roof -- A POCKET! I swear, it IS there! Invisible from below, rounded, three inches in all directions, a secure hold which allowed even a rotundity of a climber, like myself, to grip firmly and pull my body up.

I had to shift my weight, my hands, and my attitude as I pulled above the overhang, and stabbed a quick biner through the third bolt. Even then, I could not rest as my lardo fundament was still hanging over nothing. But, after a few more pulls on angular-shap holds I finally got my feet underneath my major mass and stood up. Did I whoop with delight? Well, yeah. For a "sissy" climb, this 5.8 certainly had my number!

The finishing moves were probably fright-enhanced from the crux sequence below, but I found the final yards to the hangers to be thin-rounded stuff, just at the moment I really wanted some 5.4 buckets.

The down-climb seemed a bit easier (mentally), though I still had to pump the go-juice into the muscles to reverse the crux. Lowering myself from the "hole" and the "triangle" proved minimally exciting, but shifting into a semi-layback, and stepping off the shelf below the second bolt involved more "technical," precision placements of hands and feet than I really wanted to do just then. I cheated left into a dihedral-crack system for my dismount, not caring to face the finger-tip stuff I had used on the way up -- well, gee, I guess I was tired? OK, I "sissied-out!"

After some vastly nourishing gatorade, and a peanut butter sandwich laced with banana slices, I plunked the coiled rope down purposefully beneath the left-most climb, "Small Brown Mouse." One climbing guide lists this route as a 5.10, another calls it a "mere" 5.9. Since "Sissy Boyz 8" was done by the same first ascenion team, I approached this "mousey" ascent with a healthy amount of, well, not exactly fear, but I must say there was no scent of "hubris" to my mood! Nonetheless, it looked reasonably well-bolted, and at 2:30 PM it was fully warmed by the sun, and it actually looked "inviting!" At this point I began to have "belayer" troubles. As I approached the first clip, my wife (who kindly consents to hold the far-end of the rope when I can find no other companion) was retailing (for my benefit) her current state of neck fatigue, and her desire to shift into a more comfortable posture -- fully recumbent... I tried to impress upon her the sorry state of my current climbing abilities. I tried to enthuse her with my own sense of urgency, not to say anxiety. But, she persisted in shifting her belay, reminding me that never yet, asleep or awake, had she ever let me fall beyond the "reasonable limits" dictated by the logistics of the climb.

Somewhat over-stimulated, I admit I probably "over-reacted," certainly I "over-emoted." But just then, I was feeling certain that I would have to face this ultimate Ridgeline test without her full engagement, or her rapt appreciation of my perilous position. With any other belayer, I could depend upon their respect of me as a fellow climber, or, failing that, I could possibly bully or whine then into compliance. But with a wife, well what can you do? She outranks me entirely. So, semi-recumbent -- and telling me that this displayed her unbounded confidence in my skill -- she urged me "to get on with it." Well, the shadows of this wintry day WERE starting to mass and pool along the trail we must tread to get back to the car. So, I "got on with it."

Perhaps the adrenalines encouraged by our labour-management dispute assisted me, but anyway I mounted the first moves to the bolt, gripped some thin-shap holds, lifted my entire gross weight on one handhold and stabbed for an awkward undercling-crack that defeated my first desperate efforts to insert my fingers to a comfortable depth. Half-secure only, I flailed a bit with my right hand and found a fine hold, though not overly gernerous, I thought. This got me above the next bolt and into a pleasant "walk-up" section just below the roof. Securely clipped, I played about with several different combinations, foot here, no, better there; hand here -- whoops nothing there at all; well here's a slanting, sharp hold that allows a modified lieback; OK, foot up and left, then a sinew popping reach to an oblique knob-shelf with a good-grip hold. Body swings free of the wall, feet go up, power-in close to the rock, clip the bolt and -- panick! OK, I can hold myself here with one hand, but I'm on a definite overhang, and I can just imagine I'll have a nice dangle until tetanus sets in, and then: "Look out Baybee, I'm goona drop!"

"Baybee," replied, "It's OK, I'm on watch, and it's all air beneath you -- so drop." (She was semi-reclined like a Roman patron just about to dine on Doormice stuffed with Lark's tongues...)

The really nice thing about climbing, is that you do, from time to time, slip into another reality, find a new plane of existance, suddenly become all that you should be... I did not want to DROP, in fact I was distinctly aware that there were three ponderosa pines of immense antiquity and solidity just behind me. There came an otherworldly surge of power that sent me "ape-swinging" up and left. My fingers clawed onto a seires of modest handholds, greasy-black looking crystals of some dubious geology -- but, they held my weight, and I used my momentum to counterswing and lift my right foot to the knobby zone where my right hand once held my full mass. Above that, there was a rough ball and crack that received my questing fingers and allowed me to transfer my center of gravity to my right foot. I stood up. Relaxed marginally, clipped the next bolt, and squealed in good "sissy" fashion. No DROP!

5.10? 5.9? I could care less. I got up it! For me, this was the hardest of the climbs we had done on Ridgeline, and I felt enormously relieved just to have passed the crux without trying the recoil mechanism of my 10.5 mm rope (I'd climb on a 14mm if they made 'em!). I do not actually remember much about the finish, some leggy, step-up stuff, I think. I did downclimb it, but got some help from the rope at two nasty places where I found myself so widely splayed that I nearly induced several "charley-horse" muscle reactions. Somewhere along the line, up-or-down, I slit a fingertip, a rotten crescentic gash that bled enough to do more than just make the holds slick with my own juices, but absolutely no pain at all -- then.

"Small Brown Mouse" -- for the intermediate, unwary climber -- is rather more of a "Rat," I think. It is well protected, and its bolt placements were precisely where I wanted them, but THINK TEN, as you mount this bit of high excitement, even if, after you succeed, you downgrade it to a NINE.

A grand day, altogether...

Thorkel and "Baybee"

c1thorkel@excite.com

Ridgeline Ratings:

The routes on Ridgeline are both named and numbered in E. Fazio-Rhicard's "Squeezing the Lemmon II." The numerical sequence on Ridgeline runs west to east: #1 "Small Brown Mouse;" #2 "Sissy Boyz Eight;" #3 "Firezone;" #4 "Sudden Impact;" #5 "Never to be the Same;" #6 "Wind of Change;" #7 "Two Birds with One Stone;" #8 "Mogenhead;" #9 "Glowing in the Distance." Route #10, "Ridgeback," is on the southern edge of a separate spur of rock. Route #11 ("Year of the Dragon") likewise lies off the main Ridgeline face but to the northeast.

Ridgeline seems particularly plagued with "ratings trouble." The two main guidebooks (E. Fazio-Rhicard's "Squeezing the Lemmon II," and the Falcoln guide) have different difficulties assigned to many of the climbs -- sometimes they are off by a full decimal rating. As this area receives a high volume of intermediate climbers -- many from outside the local area -- it may be benneficial for the community to establish a genuine consensus-rating for each of the 11* lines on this rock. Eventually, this online guidebook may attract enough commentators so that the ratings here can be fairly systematized and standardized. When "polling" the leaders at Ridgeline, I find that those who happen (by chance or choice) to hit the hardest sequences, tend to upgrade most of the climbs -- while those who light first upon the easier alternatives tend to think the book ratings are out of line and should be revised downward.

I think, then, that the chief problem for establishing a fair rating system at Ridgeline concerns the fact that most of the routes have several "alternative" sub-lines of movement that are equally apparent and available to the climbers. The 5.10- mantle on "Firezone" (route #3) can be avoided altogether by mounting some three feet to its right or left. The "hard start" on route #5, "Never to be the Same," can also be circumvented, right or left; and, except for the first ascent team, I have never seen any lead climber on route #8, Mogenhead, do the actual face-crux sequence. Consequently, in the following "suggested-ratings" review I will indicate just where I think a given level of difficulty may be found along the line of the routes discussed. Of course, such a review represents only my "best takes" on these routes, and it will need further, refining input from other climbers before it can become the basis of a real consensus.

One note of immediate warning: "Sissy Boyz Eight" is more probably a 5.9a or b -- please see Thorkel's description of this route in the post just above!

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• As of February, 2006 -- there were 11 established routes on the Ridgeline. The 11th is Brian Shon's (not Chan!) "Year of the Dragon," 5.9 to 5.10a, bolted and with two simple anchors at the top. This route goes down the north-east face of the rock thumb just to the right of "Glowing in the Distance" and left of the formation that carries "Ridgeback." In E. F-R's "Squeezing the Lemmon II," (p. 242) the small triangular rock just above the boxed number 9 is the formation upon which this climb is sited. There is an "airy-scary" approach up the southeastern side of this rock to gain access to the top bolts. From this platform one can, with some runners, rappel down some 45 - 50 feet to start this climb.

Ridgeline seems to be a magnet for accidents, specifically the second route from the left which one of the guidebooks, I believe "Rock Climbing Arizona", leads you to believe is 5.7 but is really 5.10a, with the added bonus of difficult clipping stances on the first few bolts before the bulge move..

The last time I went there a couple of years ago a groundfall had just occurred..By the amount of blood you'd think someone had died but apparently serious injury was avoided..

Climbing is an inherently dangerous activity, even top-roping can lead to severe injuries, and lead climbing can, of course, be immensely more hazardous. Those climbers new to the area (or even locals making their first leads at The Ridgeline) should remember that the guidebooks are not infallible nor absolute just because they are in print.

It is very unfortunate that The Ridgeline has at times been written up so "imperfectly," and yet it still receives such heavy use by intermediate and beginning-level climbers. These are precisely the climbers most at risk as they may tend to accept guidebook ratings as absolutes, and may lack the reserves of strength and the accumulated rock-skills to get themselves out of trouble when faced with a "mis-rated" route. This situation is my major motivation for re-leading all of the climbs here, and reporting my results in the more versatile medium of the internet, a medium that allows/ invites immediate response and input from other climbers in the joint effort of establishing a true consensus rating for each of the Ridgeline routes.

One of the major sources of mis-rating may actually be built into the system of putting up climbs -- most first ascencionists put up only those routes that are well within their own comfort level, so a lot of 5.7 to 5.9 routes are nailed by 5.11 or better climbers. I think it is sometimes difficult for a 5.11 leader to really judge whether a climb is a 5.7 or a 5.8 or even a 5.9 -- all three grades may simply feel "easy" to an advanced-level climber. I have often heard it said: "What does a 5.12 leader know about 5.7s?" I suppose there is a good deal of truth to the dictum that it takes a genuine 5.7 leader to "know" a 5.7!

But, with the printed guidebooks, the first ascencionists report their "best guesses" as "suggested difficulty ratings" for the new climbs that they have done. The guidebook authors, who cannot climb every new route, can only report these ratings with the general caveat that they are not confirmed, and climbers should expect wide variations of "actual" difficulty. Only later, largely by trial and error, does a truer, more valid consensus-rating develope. When a dozen or more leaders have registered their opinions on a given climb, we may still see some wide variations in the assigned difficulties, but we can at least average the returns and come close to an "absolute rating."

Another major problem, here at The Ridgeline, seems to be factual errors (in at least one of the guidebooks, see Christian's comments above). The Falcon Guide (as I recall it -- I've mislaid my copy and cannot confirm this yet!) has some of the climbs misplaced/ misnamed and most of them, in my opinion, mis-rated. Eric Fazio-Rhicard's latest edition, "Squeezing the Lemmon II," does have the correct sequence (as I know it) and the correct names of the routes, although I disagree with many of the "suggested" difficulty ratings he reports from the first ascent teams.

A third source of "mis-rating" may come from the fact that the Tucson scale is a particularly "tough" one, the 5.9s I led here in the 1980s seemed considerably harder than the 5.9s I experienced at Devil's Tower, or Eleven Mile Canyon near Colorado Springs. As climbing became more popular, and as Tucson's population exploded, many climbers used to "easier" scales have moved here, or visit here. I think a more "inter-regional" scale is now developing in Tucson, falling more into line with the Colorado and Wyoming difficulties -- but keep in mind that many of the "old-time" leaders (who are still active here) continue to use the tougher Tucson scale. As a general rule of thumb, you can probably count on most of the climbs done on Mount Lemmon as being a half or even a full decimal level harder than similar ratings elsewhere.*

But, if the local climbing community joins the effort here at Mountain Project, I think we can gradually establish a current "consensus rating" for each of these climbs, a consensus that will better reflect the true difficulties to be faced on these routes for the beginning and intermediate leaders. Perhaps this will cut the accident rate here?

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• Things could be worse: the original, isolated, 1960s rating system at Palisades South Dakota resulted in "Mirage" being called a 5.9, I swear it's a 5.11b!

If I am reading you correctly here, jbak, I think you make several good points: the original decision to climb does ultimately involve individual responsibility, and a certain amount of sound personal judgment. Those who have been climbing for some time soon realize just how subjective the assigned difficulties can be, and quickly come to understand the limitations of the guidebook ratings. But those new to the sport often have to learn this lesson through trial and error, sometimes through the "school of hard knocks."

Unfortunately, as Christian puts it, the accident statistics for The Ridgeline point to a particular problem here, one that I think the community can address. Many of the beginning and intermediate climbers I have spoken to at The Ridegeline admit that they often put more faith in the book ratings than they should, and start an ascent thinking that if it is listed as a 5.7, it will give them a 5.7 (or close to it) experience. I would like to see at least a few climbing areas on Mount Lemmon given a good set of "consensus ratings," especially those high traffic areas where less experienced climbers are likely to congregrate. If we can establish a more valid set of ratings for these climbs, and publish the results in a flexible response format like the internet, does it do any harm?

Regarding Tucson ratings: This matter would be another issue best decided by a poll. I think you are correct in seeing the later Tucson climbs as being more in line with an inter-regional standard scale, but I'll stick with my original opinion that the 5.10 classics on Chimmney Rock are about a half decimal harder than the 5.10s I led back in the 70/ 80s in Colorado and Wyoming.

Thanks for the input, jbak!

Hey, Folks. Sorry for the administrative backlog here. I've removed the comments that were unrelated to the routes here.

Just would like to add that the new guidebook "Weekend Rock: Arizona" has a good description and photos of the Ridgeline routes..But most importantly, my buddy Tim from L.A. is pictured climbing "Glowing in the Distance"..They should have belaying credits in the pictures too haha just kidding..It's a given they'd choose the 5.12 climber's picture over my lame as* on the same route..haha

I just recently discovered this site and much to my surprise found a reference in a post by Desicon to an undocumented climb, "Year of the Dragon", that I put up several years ago. Since the climb is no longer unknown, I am adding it as a new climb to the database with additional details. The nature of the climb is quite different from the other routes at Ridgeline. The approach is quite problematic and I would not recommend the climb for unexperienced leaders trying to bag their 1st 5.10.