Continue with onX Maps
Sign in with Facebook
Looking Glass Chronicles
|
The Backstory My buddy Steve and I have been going to Looking Glass NC for a "little big wall" trip each of the past two years. The first year we went I was pretty new to climbing and had just begun my second year. We managed to get up Glass Menagerie with me leading many of the pitches. I felt quite accomplished considering it was my first time really aiding... and I aided every move. The next year we agreed to attempt Rowins Route. We fix the first two pitches pretty quickly and chill out for the night on the ground. Then the rain starts. We lounge around in camp Squalot (right under Brain Dead A4) getting dripped on for about 3 days. Finally it ends and we jug up the ropes, but as soon as we see the wall above, and the intimidating sea of tiny circle heads, we decide to bail, our morale depleted. Early 2021 we begin talking about going back. I'm starting to look at other routes in the area, and having just listened to an Ed Viestures audiobook, the Scott Fischer Memorial route began to appeal to me. I started getting stoked for the route, and began aquiring the gear necessary to accomplish my new goal. After making a ton of copperheads, getting a Fish portaledge, and all the beaks and peckers I could find on eBay, I figured the only thing that could stop us would be a lack of fortitude. At first Steve didn't seem as jazzed as I, but once we had started he began to understand why I had chosen this route. The Warm Up We hit the road one day in late September on our way to meet our friend Kane at Stone Mountain to wait out a few days of rain. Steve had just acquired a smaller van that we were using, and it was jam-packed with gear. After hanging out with Kane, all three of us decide that it is time to head to the north side of Looking Glass. Kane and I immediately hike in after arriving and start working on Rowins. I finish the first pitch in the dark, and in the morning Kane cleans it. I then ascend the rope and start hauling an outrageous amount of stuff. For some reason the bags were probably like 250 lbs! We had just thrown in all the water and food we had, a large rack, 3 people's gear, 2 ledges, etc. Likely enough to last 3 people 5 days. After trying to pull the bags up in vain, I end up using a 2:1 and also use Kane as a counter weight. Apparently Steve wasn't planning on joining our attempt, so the fact that we hauled that much stuff was slightly frustrating, although now pretty funny. Kane led the second pitch, doing a very good job considering the little heads and huge reaches between rivets on the overhanging wall, and not to mention he had a groin injury...After reaching the belay with his groin in pain and probably feeling frustrated he pulls up the spare lead line on the tag line, and raps down to Earth. I then also rap down, from the top of the first pitch. We chill out with Steve, having pretty much already decided to throw in the towel. The gear was too heavy, the route too hard, we brought too much shit, we were too slow. All these thoughts were already nagging us. Kane and I decided we would go back up and at least spend a night in our ledges and I would clean the next pitch while he lowers our camp to the ground. The next morning I refill my Olde English bottle, only this time with piss and try to pour it away from the rock. Then we hear Steve yell up "what is that, what are you doing?" And in response Kane yells down that it's my piss. We both giggle. I suppose Steve felt renewed, as he jumared up the fixed ropes to join us one the ledge. In his hand he held the second lead rope that Kane had fixed and single strand rapped the day before. He came up with an idea of doing a huge rope swing off the ledge. The rock above is pretty steep and overhanging, so you really swing out into space. Steve and Kane both go for a few swings, hooting and hollering and making TikTok videos while I begin cleaning pitch 2. We all meet on the ground and then do some easy trad the rest of the day. We help Kane hike out his gear that night. The next day I'm ready to leave the north side, as I've lost motivation, but Steve really wants to get on the wall. He knows I want to do the Scott Fischer Memorial, and manages to bring back my stoke. We take our time to prepare. Resting, reading, eating, etc. Steve is a pretty good camp chef. We finish sorting through the gear for the route and I hike into sleep at the base at "camp Squalot". Steve will meet me in the morning. And so it begins.. Scott Fischer Memorial Route : part one It's now morning, a little chilly, but once we are in the sun on the wall we'll be warm. Steve has showed up with a cooler full of egg, onion, and kielbasa sandwiches. We eat a light breakfast and I convince him to lead the first pitch. He sets off, setting mostly trick nuts and occasionally pulling on a fixed pin. The line isn't exactly obvious, and he has to do a few hook moves every now and then. After perhaps 2 hours he reaches the belay. He fixes the rope and returns to the ground as I begin ascending and cleaning the pitch. As I get closer to the belay I realize that Steve's pitch was actually pretty tricky. Some slick nut placements seem to be holding by magic. And there were hook moves into invisible bat holes filled with dirt. Pretty glad I didn't have to lead it, and was stoked that he had such a solid lead. After cleaning I join Steve on the ground and he offers me a sandwich, which disappears quickly. We then go back to our respective camp sites and lounge around the rest of the day. He in his van, and me at "camp Squalot" The next features on this route are called "synapse ramp" and "slot of delight". Pitch 2 starts with a few rivets and heads, then nailing beaks up a shallow ramp, and squeezing up an offwidth that usually wouldn't be too bad, if not for the mounds of equipment slung from my hips and shoulders. Squirming up I make a few hook moves, then sling a horn, and step over to the belay. Steve starts working across, only to be stymied by the removal of the beaks. However he learns the tricks of beak removal within a few minutes, pulls himself up to the belay, and then we head down to sleep on the ground for the last time until we finish. I awake in the middle of the night, feeling something moving beside me. Slowly I reach for my headlamp and flick it on. It's a snake! Right next to my face. I move back and look downhill, seeing another amongst the rocks. Copperheads as it turns out. Eventually they continue uphill, back into the talus. But I can't help but wonder if they want to share my sleeping bag. I don't exactly do much sleeping the rest of the night. Part 2 to come. As well as pictures if I can figure it out |
 Our massive arrangement of shit atop pitch one of Rowins route. The flake that I'm sitting on actually expanded in the morning and Kane had trouble cleaning some lost arrows that I had hand placed the night before.  Steve (far right) getting ready for the rope swing into space.  Hauling the pigs is fun I guess... Who woulda thought.  On top pitch 2 of Rowins. (Our highpoint on that route)  Moving into the squeeze chimney on Scott Fischer Memorial from "synapse ramp"
 The snakes in "camp Squalot" |
|
Scott Fischer Memorial: part two The sun is beginning to brighten the sky as Steve arrives. I tell him about the snakes as we each chug an ensure and and gear up to finish the route. We are bringing perhaps 3 gallons of water, what little food we now have left, a portaledge, sleeping bags, 2 70m ropes, a 65m skinny tag line, the whole piton rack, hooks, heads, a triple set of cams to bd#2, a single #3 + #4, and a double set of nuts. We ascend the rope that we left fixed the day before, and Steve is motivated to have this lead. He sets out above the belay on rivets that are hammered in so far you can't get a #1 wire hanger behind some of them, as well as more invisible bat holes. He keeps moving up, some of the rivet hangers falling off as he moves above them. I giggle at his expense, knowing I'd be a little sketched had our roles been reversed. The next feature he's about to hit is called "the navel", what looks like a crazy little hueco in the roof. Finally clipping a bolt there, (one of the only ones.. even the belays were just rivets) he pulls the roof on copperheads and circle heads, pausing to hammer in a few where the fixed heads have ripped. I lose sight of him, but continue to feel him pulling for slack. He continues to pull rope, and I keep feeding it. "Did he fall?" I wonder to myself. Hard to tell with the rope drag. Then I hear him yell down to hold him. He had been so focused on reaching the belay that he had clipped an old rotten price of webbing on a knife blade instead of retying it off. The webbing had ripped, sending him for a ride, which was caught by a circlehead! He went back up a few more feet and fixed the rope so I could come up. I cleaned the pitch uneventfully, but when I reached the belay I did a double take. 2 rivets made this belay, and there would be no more bolts the rest of the route. I was pretty proud of my friend. He had just led one of the hardest pitches of aid in his life and his back would be in pain for days later. The next thing to do was haul. The issue was our 70m haul line wouldn't quite reach the belay. We had to haul a few meters on the tag line, then pass a knot to be able to pull on the haul line. Hilariously we end up doing a sort of tandem leg haul, with me below Steve. Rocking to and fro and timing our leg strokes we succeed in bringing up the pigs. I set the portaledge up, suspending it from a tied off knife blade, backed up to the 2 rivet belay. We sit down to rest, and I crack open the Old English I'd been saving. Steve's back is in rough shape, and he stretches on the portaledge, listening to Hare Krishna mantras, while I rack up, thinking "I'm only doing one pitch tonight, shouldn't need much gear, and I'll be back on the portaledge in 2-2.5 hours. I couldn't have been more wrong... It was late afternoon when I left the comfort of the portaledge, using primarily aluminum and copper heads for upward progress, until gaining a crack system named "Autobahn crack". "Should be quick now" I was thinking. I start leapfrogging cams, leaving one or two behind as pro, figuring I have plenty for just one pitch. Coming to a hollow flake, I hook my way across as it audibly creaks. When I regain the crack on the other side I ask Steve for the remainder of the cams, a bottle of water, and a headlamp, which he tied onto the tag line. I pull it up, retrieving the items, and attempt without success to get the end of the tag line back to him. The wall is getting a bit slabby and the rope is hanging up on various bulges. I forge ahead figuring an opportunity for a belay will be coming shortly. The topo says horizontal crack .5-3", but I never find a suitable spot, and would like to go farther before a belay at any rate. Now a headlamp is needed. It's getting dark and I find myself at a large extremely flared horizontal crack covered in bird shit. Only thing I can fit on here is a tipped out #4. Is this the supposed belay in the topo? Or is this supposed to be the bat hooking traverse? I never found any bat holes, so I'll never know. The rope drag is getting pretty bad, even though only 2 rivets, a few heads, and perhaps 3 cams were left as protection below. The headlamp also is beginning to go out every time I move my head, and I can no longer see Steve, meaning I don't know how far I've gone, or how much rope I have left. I steel my resolve, and step out of my aiders to make a free move across the slopey crack, reaching up and left to put in a cam where the vertical crack resumes. I continue to leapfrog the cams (now often only on 2 lobes) up the vertical crack, which is now getting very shallow, flared, and filled with moss and lichen. I come to a spot where the crack runs out, and top step on a pasted head on the slab. "I hope this doesn't rip" I think to myself as I stand on it, legs quaking. If it rips I'll have quite the ride, and not only that, but I didn't bring any heads on that pitch to replace it! The rope drag is getting worse, the headlamp only seems to work for moments at a time, and I'm getting pretty tired and frustrated. Then looking up I see what looks to be the silhouette of trees! With a renewal of energy I move up the final section of the crack, and after a scary move onto the slab, managing to finally build a belay. The whole 70m rope was used on that pitch, and I could only pull up a few feet of slack to build the anchor. Then fixed the skinny tag line and descended into darkness, finding Steve and the portaledge surprisingly easily. The 65m tag line barely reached and it was a straight shot. I sat down on the ledge, almost in tears as relief flooded through me after what was mentally the hardest lead I've ever done. Steve tells me he had perhaps shed a few years of happiness himself while I was gone. He had been dreaming of doing walls like this, having true adventure, and of sleeping on a portaledge since he was 15. Now many years later that dream was coming true, and he knew he needed trips like this more often. I finished the bottle of Old English, and ate what I think were chocolate covered nuts- pretty much the last of our food. We were crammed tightly on the ledge, sleeping head to toe. We woke with the sun rise, taking time to appreciate the beautiful setting as we finished the rest of our water. For some reason Steve decided he would carry all the urine bottles on his back while cleaning the pitch. I believe he did not want them to explode while hauling the pigs up the lumpy slab. As he jugged the rope, jamming out to "cool cool water" by Eddy Money, I laughed to myself at the extra 25 lbs of piss strapped to his back. He reached the top pretty quickly regardless, as there was hardy any gear to remove. He set up to haul and I jumared up and kept pace with the bags, freeing them each time they snagged on a bulge. Reaching the belay I now realize just how close I had come the night before to the forest above. There was only 30 feet of mossy slab left to go, which we promptly finished. The last haul was right into the thick rhododendron forest. There was horrible rope drag through all those shrubs. We are now in the thickest jungle I have ever seen and have to crawl uphill in loose dirt and mounds of leaves on our hands and knees, while pushing, rolling, and pushing our enormous mounds of gear. Steve finally dumps out all the urine and we stage the gear in a space we can actually stand up in. He manages to find the climber trail and lays out on a boulder, stretching his messed up back. Because of his back issue I go back for the gear alone. After wandering around for probably an hour I give up my search.... I've lost the gear. I do manage to find Steve, and astonishingly he finds it in just a few minutes. It's only about noon now, but Steve is getting a headache and insists we walk down to camp immediately empty handed. I think he recalls the last time we walked off the top and got a bit lost 2 years ago on Glass Menagerie. I pack the giant bag as full as I can anyway and follow him down the trail to the base, as he ties strips onto twigs to help us find our gear on the return. We end up getting a bit off trail anyway and butt-slide down wet rocks, and through sticker bushed, but eventually find the base of the route. Exhausted, starving, and dehydrated we hike out to Steve's van and drive into town and eat at the Chinese buffet. After gorging ourselves we go back to camp for the night at the trail head. Waking up in the morning we hike up the correct climber trail, leaving a cairn this time at the turn off. We find the stashed gear easily enough and hike back to the van, this time not losing the trail. It's all just training for the next big adventure..... |
 Gearing up for the "Autobahn crack"  Getting a little bit dark out.  Waking up on the ledge in the morning.  Admiring the view come sunrise. |
|
How bomber is the 2 rivet and tied off knife blade anchor. I’ve want to climb this route sometime in the future but my aid is limited to GM. |
|
The 2 rivet anchor is good. They seem to be pretty deep in there with one wire hanger and one lucky sheet metal hanger. The knife blade is pretty solid too, but is a little distance below |
|
I know rattlesnakes sometimes bite people, but my own anecdote is that after 10 years working in various ERs in western NC, SC, and NM, the ONLY venomous snake bites I have ever personally seen have been copperheads I love the trip report |
|
What pitch did you bivvy on? All the belays look pretty spooky to call "good". |
|
Ditto love trip report, it might be the edible talking but you sound like an author or editor. Regardless, inspired me to start a climbing journal. Thanks! |
Tim Wheatleywrote: Maybe just into pitch 4. Or the top of 3. Was hard to tell honestly. We built it on a rivet with a lucky hanger and another rivet with a wire. Tied off knife blade a few feet below |
