(Broken up into multiple parts, as I wrote far too much)
The Backstory:
Sometime in December, I was emailed a sparse trip planning document, containing a mountain project link, and a date range. Coming back from winter break, with our feeds churning Potrero content (at least at me), we finally bought tickets once partners were committed to coming with. Spring Break in Mexico! (though not in the way many would imagine).
As the days got closer, we got more and more excited. My partner and I took an late January/early February trip to the red to practice some multipitches (though 2 pitch trad, descendible with one rap, really doesn't compare to what we were up against); we talked to friends who had been there prior; we talked out gear (I needed to remark the middle of my rope as Mammut ropes dislike having visible middle markers --- I ended up forgetting and marking with tape, which… worked) and baggage (getting nickel and dimed by only the best of Mexican airlines: VivaAerobus).
A wrench was slightly thrown when, two weeks before the trip, I pulled on a pocket the wrong way, leading to shooting pain from my finger down my hand and forearm. With basically 2 weeks of rest leading up to the trip, I was worried that I would 1) lose all ability to climb (or endurance to go all day) or 2) reinjure and not be able to climb. Thankfully, however, I mostly healed by the trip (and reinjured for real this week).
The Plan:
We were to fly to Mexico, and climb.
There were talks of hitting Time Wave Zero, perhaps the most known route in EPC. As the days drew closer, and the weather looked like it would be nice to us, we knew we had to at least try it. This became everyone’s main objective.
Other than that, all we wanted to do was climb a lot of pitches, and distract ourselves from school and real life.
Most of the stuff, laid out.
Armed with a rack of draws, rocky talkies, quads, and the unbridled energy of 19-21 year olds, we headed to Hidalgo.
The entrance to EPC.
We were to stay at La Posada, hopefully not too crowded given it being shoulder season.
La Posada the morning after we arrived.
Individual Notable Climbs:
Treasure of the Sierra Madre:
(I perhaps gumbied a bit on this one.)
After coming to Mota wall on our first climbing day, around 9, we headed for Treasure of the Sierra Madre. A classic 7 pitch 10c that takes you up to the ridge at the top of the sense of religion wall. There was already a party headed up the first pitch, so we distracted ourselves with some shorter climbs.
The view of El Toro from Mota wall.
A bit after 12, we started up the route. I linked P1 and P2, getting to a godawful hanging belay that convinced me I would be buying a new harness after this trip. My partner led P3, which we both found stout, especially with our calves already burning and the sun baking us. Not initially seeing the anchors, he called out,
“Is this one of those long-ass pitches?”
He found the anchors shortly after, and I then led P4, uneventfully.
“Why the fuck is there a roof above us?”
The roof honestly wasn't that bad, and coming up to the start of P6, we ran into the other party rappelling. We had a cozy little party at the belay, they shared some snacks, and told us there were actually 3 more pitches, but they were linkable (later learned that the anchors were intermediates for rappelling with a 60). I headed up, pulling a car with me on the final pitch. With my partner calling out 5 feet left of rope, I finally reached the summit anchors.
“Ok Opal, you are off belay”
“Pulling rope”
“That's me”
“fuck Fuck FUCK FUCK FUCK”
“Was that a grigri”
“You’re on belay, on a munter”
The first day was certainly a choice for losing my grigri to the ground 700 feet below. I belayed him up, seething at myself for my stupidity, and the fact that I would be killing my weak shoulders belaying from above with an ATC all week. By the time he reached the top, (~4) I think I was crying. Thankfully my partner was a good sport. The view from the top also helped.
Top of the sense of religion wall.
Once I calmed down, we started the descent, which took about 2 hours. We had originally planned on checking out a few more single pitch routes, but the day had somewhat spent me. A scan through the scree did not turn up my grigri, but the vibe leaving the canyon significantly helped my mood, with locals blasting music, and some guys offering us some free (ice cold) beers on our walk out.
Time Wave Zero:
This climb has probably been trip report-ed to death at this point. Yet I will still write one because I want to.
We had originally planned to wake up at 2:40 and leave La Posada by 3:20. We were slightly worried about other parties as, despite it being the shoulder season, it was the nicest day of the week (high of 66, low 48). However, at 1:30 my partner and I both woke up, and unable to go back to sleep, we decided to just go for it rather than staring at the ceiling of the tent for the next hour.
After cooking up a small breakfast, we grabbed everything we had pre-racked the night before, and set off.
Expert photography in the canyon.
We arrived at the base of the climb, and at about 3 am, we started, in the light of a half moon. My partner led P1 and I started on P2, the first crux pitch. Unfortunately, though I had cruised it the day before, with a pack on and being unable to remember or see holds, I couldn't get from the final bolts to the anchor. Incredibly disappointed in myself, I lowered, and my partner finished it.
Though unhappy with my performance on 2, the next 5 pitches were lovely, linking and just dancing up limestone slab by the light of the moon and our headlamps. Pitch 8 was an unrope and walk that we somehow messed up and made a wrong turn on (it was dark, okay!) somehow scrambling on loose ground scarily high off the deck. In the next few days we did routes on the other side of the canyon in which we could see the very obvious path even from hundreds of yards away. Perhaps not our best moments.
We climbed pitches 9--12 in the time between first light and sunrise. It was an experience that made me want to suffer through more alpine starts in order to see the world quickly come awake. We could finally make out the mountains surrounding us better, see the light hit the other side of the canyon where we were climbing just the other day. By this time, the imposing shadowy spires along the approach were nothing but needles far below. Despite grabbing a cactus on the 10b traverse, and having to pull it out with my teeth, it was probably the best climbing experience of my life. When we got to the P12 bivy ledge at 6:50, the sun was up.
The best view of my life.
A short break later (including my partner about to start climbing before saying, “you know what, I think I will use that wag bag”), we were off again, at around 7:15.
By the time he was getting to the P13 anchors, our friends were coming within earshot and I got to be privy to some of their lovely belay conversation.
We linked and linked up to P20, the sun trying and failing to stop the wind from blowing through me. The weather was originally appreciated, especially for EPC in late March, but wow, did it feel quite cold. Anyways, P20 was a tough 10d and was missing its first bolt, spooking me somewhat, especially with the memory of the failure on P2 not too far behind. After a preliminary climb and downclimb, I put my big girl pants on and sent the pitch.
P21, the 12a crux pitch, was here, with a lovely standing belay. As the only other party that day was a few pitches behind, my partner had a couple RP attempts, and I had a lead go. We both quite liked the pitch, and though neither of us sent it, it was fun to feel like we were cragging 2000 feet off the deck.
From there, it was a last sprint to the summit. A pretty runout feeling 5.9 (though perhaps that was my exhaustion) and a scary (to me) fixed line ridge walk. A bit before 2 pm we were at the top of the climb, and what felt like the top of the world.
Views from the top.
At about 3, with our friends coming up P22, we started to head down. Though rappelling 21 times sucked, the scenery around, the cirque of mountains surrounding us, the swallows swarming--- most importantly, my partner reminding me of these things and how lucky we are to be able to torture ourselves in such a way--- made it better. Though the wind was still sucking the warmth from me, the sun was still, thankfully, out for our rappel. Our feet finally touched the ground again at 6:30 pm. 15 hours and 30 minutes later.
Back on the ground, headed back.
We were back at La Posada at 7:15 for dinner and the best sleep of the trip. The entire outing still doesn’t quite feel like it happened to me.