Chapter Three
Once again, let’s fast-forward, this time to February 13 of 2006. My friend Brian had come out from The Windy City to do some desert climbing, and climb we did. Fresh from a big wilderness technical climb, we had arrived at the La Lesna Mountains in the afternoon and set up camp in the same place Dave and I had used. Of course, we were there to dance with Peak 2650. With all manner of gear in tow, we were going to knock this thing off, no matter what. Three months earlier, when Dave had stood at the border monument, he proclaimed (in very colorful language I cannot repeat here) that there was no way he was going to attempt the last few feet to the summit. He felt that he couldn’t protect the route properly because we didn’t have enough gear. Brian and I knew all of this, but we were determined to finish this thing off once and for all. This would be my third attempt, and, I hoped, my last.
The following words are Brian’s, which summarize our attempt so well. Where you see “DM”, that’s me, the ol’ Desert Mountaineer.
The following morning again dawned as fair as fair could be. We had a leisurely breakfast (even though my espresso maker erupted in a geyser of coffee and steam that covered the entire back of DM’s truck, and I only was able to salvage 1/2 of a demitasse (a demi-demitasse?)). The caffeine was much needed as I had been running on empty. I had not had a coffee for several days by this point in time, and was in clear danger of getting the heebee-geebees.
One of the neat things about this peak (2650) is that you actually do get to sneak into Mexico to approach the route. We weren’t too worried about it, however, as the entire area seemed deserted. The hike in takes only a matter of minutes. There was a small amount of flotsam and jetsam left by desert travelers near the base of the climb. Can’t call them illegals, though, as we were in Mexico and we were the illegals, or should I say “undocumented climbers”.
We roped up at the base and cast off. The first pitch had a nice 5.6/5.7ish start move and then was an easy Class 4 scramble to a notch, where the border monument was. It’s still a mystery how them guv’ment fellows managed to erect the monument where they did. There was a red rappel sling around the monument, which I suspect was left by L.A. Dave on his attempt. I brought DM up and we sussed out the next pitch. The ridge was an airy place with unhealthy drops on both sides. The rock was reasonably good but the ridge itself, composed of many fractured blocks, balanced like a house of cards. At the start of the pitch I found an old ring piton hammered well home. It was rusty but looked reasonably solid. I equalized it to a small stopper and clipped in and went for it, with DM belaying me, tied into the monument. I placed a fair number of pieces of pro and even slung some of the larger and (hopefully!) bombproof blocks. It all went pretty quick and I soon called to DM that I was up.
He followed, leaving the gear in place. The logic was that, on the descent, he would down-climb the ridge with a top-rope through the gear that would minimize the swing in any fall that might happen. Traverses such as this can be fairly dicey.
All went well with his descent and, as it was only half a rope length, he could actually top-rope lower me off a sling I left wrapped around the summit block, allowing me a good margin of safety as I cleaned the gear. By the last piece, however, I was risking a huge and probably lethal pendulum if I were to come off, so I routed the rope behind a block for the last little bit and it all worked out well. We replaced Dave’s sling with a new one, and one short rap brought us to the base, and 15 minutes later we were drinking Fat Tires on the border road back in the U.S.A.
A big shout out to Brian for his description of the climb. There are a few details I would like to add, however. When Brian belayed me up to the monument, I was really curious and excited to see what the route looked like from there. We sat there and eyeballed the rest of the climb. It turned out that the summit was probably not more than 50 vertical feet above where the monument itself sits, and was less than 100 feet away horizontally, but that was hard to tell from where we stood. It appeared that the original surveyors may have actually blasted some of the rock away, in order to create a spot flat enough to erect the monument.
When Brian was examining the start of the final pitch as we stood by the monument, he said he wasn’t impressed by what he saw, much the same as what Dave said in the same place three months earlier. And when he started up and moved over to the airy ridge, he tested the stability of the large blocks that were there and starting cursing like a trooper. My word, such foul language! – even worse than what Dave used. In fact, I never heard so many four-letter words in my life, as Brian tested the stability of those huge rocks teetering on the knife-edge ridge. A number of them moved visibly when he put any weight on them. It was an extremely dangerous situation, one that would have turned back most climbers. I was completely blown away by his perseverance, as he teetered over the abyss – the exposure was huge.
When he called out to me that he was on top, I was relieved. However, I was also terrified that I was going to have to travel the same route along that ridge, dealing with those huge unsteady blocks balancing there. The rest of the climb was funny, in that it was pretty much a horizontal climb, not a vertical one. When I too felt the blocks move as I touched them, I about soiled myself. Soon enough, I was with Brian on the tiny summit – there was barely enough room for us to huddle together. We left a register and spent but a few minutes on top.
I was the first to return to the monument, the work of only a few minutes, and I gotta say that I was never so glad to hug a border monument in my life!
As we were getting ready to rappel down off of the monument, we looked to the south into Mexico and – it was déjà vu all over again, just like Dave and I had witnessed – we saw a vehicle driving along the same road and drop off a group of border crossers.
Man, what a place! God only knows what else you could see if you spent a bunch of time in this area.
So, the deed was done, Peak 2650 had been climbed and I was happy. It was the last technical climb I needed to do to finish up my list of peaks on the reservation. The mountain range is well-named, as “la lesna” means “the awl” in Spanish, and Peak 2650 juts into the sky, awl-like, from almost every side. A total of 276 obelisk monuments sit on the 1,954-mile border between the United States and Mexico. None of the others are as difficult to get to as number 153, not even close. It is in a class of its own, and my hat is off to the early surveyors who must have worked so hard to build it in place long ago. Here is a quote from the report of the Boundary Commission of 1891-1896:
“Number 153, 2 3/4 miles west of 152, occupies the most remarkable position on the entire boundary. The line in crossing the Cerro de la Lesna rises abruptly from the plain below, a distance of about 500 feet, the upper 100 feet being a sheer precipice on both sides. To reach the summit of this ridge required a specially skillful and athletic climber to carry a rope, by means of which others were enabled to ascend and perform the work of erecting this monument. It is of the sectional iron type, the pieces and other materials being carried as far as possible on pack animals, and then hoisted by hand, with the aid of ropes, to the summit. The knife-edge crest was blasted off to give sufficient width for the base of the monument, which was then bolted to the solid rock. The erection of this monument proved to be the most difficult upon the entire boundary, requiring four days of excessive labor.”
The spot they blasted off, where the monument sits, is fairly small, perhaps 10′ x 10′, and is well removed from the summit. It is safe to say that their blasting did not lower the elevation of the mountain at all. Any doubters can go there and climb it and see for themselves – I guarantee it’ll be an adventure.
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