Getting An Early Start

Okay, I admit I’m guilty of heading out to do a climb at what must surely be a ridiculously early hour. This has been a lifelong habit, much to the consternation of my friends. It was understandable on alpine climbs – perhaps there was a lot of elevation to be gained to reach the summit and limited time to finish and make it back to camp safely; perhaps concern about the weather was an issue; trying to judge avalanche conditions was another reason, since freezing conditions at night and in the early part of the day were usually safer.

In the desert, it was usually heat that was the issue. Many were the times when I would rise at 1:00 or 2:00 AM, perhaps meet up with a friend, and drive for hours on ever-worsening roads to reach the point where foot travel would begin, all in an attempt to be finished and back to the safety of the vehicle before it hit a hundred degrees. Often the day stretched beyond that time and safety became a real issue. There were some close calls. To me, getting an early start was like an insurance policy – it improved the chance of success on any climb by creating a safety margin. No matter if your climb finished early, it was better than the alternative in many cases.

Mountain Unit

We were camped in a gully in a very remote part of the desert, in a restricted part of the bombing range. The nearest humans were about 30 miles away. As we sat in the dark cooking some food, suddenly bright lights shone towards us and a voice out of the night told us to come out with our hands up. We were stunned – nobody else should be out there, trespassing like us. We complied and were met by 4 men who told us they were with the Mountain Unit of the US Border Patrol. They had followed our bicycle tracks for the first 23 miles to where we had ditched the bikes. Then, amazingly, they followed our footprints for another 5 miles or so, much of it in the dark of the winter’s night, and found us at our camp. It all ended well when they realized that we weren’t drug cartel members, merely a couple of harmless climbers bagging peaks in that remote mountain range. They soon left, having to retrace their steps for hours in the dark to regain their vehicle.

Spare Parts

Several years ago, I prepared for the stealth climbing trip of a lifetime, which would take place in forbidden areas of a military reservation. It would involve using a bicycle to travel along military roads, as well as for cross-country travel, in order to reach each of the peaks. The bicycle was essential – if it failed, the trip would be over and I could be stranded in a remote or dangerous place. To get ready for all of the hard riding that would be done, I rode for miles on dirt roads and alternated those days with ones in the gym. So now that I felt physically ready, what could I do to make sure that the mountain bike was ready?

First of all, I blacked out all lights and reflectors so nothing could shine back in any direction and give away my position in the dark. Then I assembled a kit with spare parts, which included the following items: a spare tube; a flat repair kit; tube sealant; a bicycle wrench; pliers; a tool to remove the tire valve; a spare valve core; a chain breaker and bits needed to repair a chain; a pump; a lock. I installed a rack on the back and a carrier basket on the front (I had to be able to carry a lot of gear). To strengthen the tires, I had tire liners installed and injected them with tube sealant.

With all of that done, I was ready. The trip took place as planned and I had no problems with the bike. I rode it through 87 miles of challenging desert terrain over a 7-day period and it helped me climb 14 peaks.

A Big Climb

What constitutes a big climb? Technical difficulty?; number of hours or days needed to complete?; distance traveled? How about how many feet of vertical involved? If you think of all the climbs you’ve done and how much elevation had to be gained, some of the results might surprise you. Back when I lived in British Columbia, one of the biggest climbs that we would do was probably Mount Rainier, about 9,000 feet of gain. The big volcanoes in Mexico, surprisingly not as much because you start so high at the trailhead, so only about 4,000 feet of gain. I guess my biggest one ever would have to be Cerro Aconcagua, a gain of a full 14,000 vertical feet. That seems fair – after all, it is the highest peak in 2 different hemispheres.

Apache Box

There is an unusual feature in the Arizona desert, far from any human habitation. It goes by the name of Apache Box. It is actually a gap between 2 parts of Cemetery Ridge. I did some research and learned that the place where the feature is located was actually part of the area historically occupied by the Western Apache tribe. Curious to learn more about the name, I contacted the National Map Help Desk in Washington, DC and this is what they told me -“the feature was requested to be included by a local ranch owner and verified by the ranch foreman.” It was first seen on the 1986 version of the Nottbusch Butte topographic map. If you click on this link, it will open a map which contains the name. Click on the + sign in the upper left to zoom in closer to see it.

https://listsofjohn.com/qmap?lat=33.3117&lon=-113.4048&z=12&t=c&P=300

I have visited that spot years ago, and it is nothing more than a gap about 600 feet wide between steep cliffs on both sides. The flat desert floor sits between the cliffs. The term “box” appears no less than 106 times on named features in Arizona, and seems to refer to situations where the terrain is closed in tight. Could the term “Apache Box” be intended to mean that the spot was where Native Americans could trap or ambush wild game or even their enemies? Did the rancher have a vivid imagination or was there some basis in historical fact to give it that name?

Meeting an Old Friend At 14,000 Feet

A late December afternoon of the year 1990 found me struggling up a steep slope in the Cordón del Plata in Argentina. I was carrying a huge pack, loaded with all manner of gear I’d need for climbs higher in the range. I was at about 14,000 feet when  I heard a voice calling out to me from above, “El Canadiense!” It was a fellow I had met back in February on Aconcagua, Gustavo Santecchio. He worked for Andesport, and had carried my pack the last 3,000′ down to Plaza de Mulas on my first attempt to climb Cerro Aconcagua – maybe because he’d felt sorry for me, but mostly because he was just plain good folks. We met and visited for a bit on the slope. He said we’d meet again soon on Aconcagua when I returned there for a second attempt. After we parted, I continued my struggle up the slope and finally reached my day’s destination. It felt good to drop that pack at El Salto, 15,185 feet. What a spot! – it sits there, perched high above the valley I’d ascended.

Nude Climbing

Several times in my life, I have somehow been involved in nudity while climbing. Strange and curious times indeed. Please allow me to explain. Some years ago, I had climbed some peaks in the Aguirre Valley of Arizona. Shortly afterwards, I read an account that authorities had rescued a woman in the same area – she was found naked and alone, but alive. Holy smokes!

Another time, I was walking up a trail in the mountains of California, a heavily forested trail used by many people every day. My companion on that day was a Catholic priest, and as we ascended the trail, we happened to look over to our left and downslope a little and, in a small clearing amongst the trees, saw a young man and woman, both naked, in the throes of making love. They weren’t more than 20 feet away from us. My companion was quite disgusted. I, on the other hand, being somewhat more experienced in such matters, merely smiled as we carried on up the slope.

One summer day in the Andes, I was walking up a trail on my way to a nice summit. It was a beautiful sunny day, and as I rounded a corner, I espied a young woman. She was lying on a blanket beside a small lake, not more than 20 feet from where I stood on the trail, and she was naked as a jaybird. When she saw me, she sat up and we chatted for a short while. She wasn’t in the least embarrassed and made no attempt to cover up. I was the one who was embarrassed, but I must confess I enjoyed our conversation before I moved on towards my summit.

I had climbed a peak in the Santa Catalina Mountains near Tucson, Arizona in the company of friends Andy and Sarah. It had been a long day, and by the time we were nearing the end of the trail, it was completely dark and we were traveling by headlamp. Then, out of the darkness, we heard a voice calling to us from the desert near the trail, a woman’s voice. “Please help me”, she called. She repeated her plea a few more times. It really took us by surprise – we didn’t know what to think, but we called back. When she responded, we shone our headlamps in that direction. There, we saw a young woman, tall and thin, standing completely naked about fifty feet off the trail.

What a shock to see her there! It was a cool evening, perhaps fifty degrees and cooling off quickly. She didn’t have a stitch of clothing on, not even shoes on her feet. Andy and I discretely averted our gaze while Sarah went over to her. She quickly learned the girl’s name and asked her how long she had been there. “Two nights” was the reply. That seemed unlikely, as the previous nights had seen 40-ish temperatures and it’s not likely she would have survived that in her present state of deshabille. The thing I found most shocking was the fact she was barefoot – the ground was littered with cactus spines and sharp thorns of every description. If I were to find myself suddenly barefoot in such a place, I wouldn’t even try to walk. Within moments your feet would be painfully punctured by all manner of sharp things. Sarah called to us, saying the girl seemed unhurt except for a huge scrape on her buttock. Upon further questioning, the girl said she had left a bad situation with some relatives and didn’t want to go back. Personally, I think drugs were involved.

Andy decided to go to his car and get Sarah’s running shoes and some spare clothes for the girl. I remained nearby and called 911, telling them to come to the Pima Canyon trailhead. I also relayed the girl’s name to the dispatcher. After some further communication, I told them I’d go down to the parking lot to meet them. By then I could see the flashing lights of several emergency vehicles. On my way down, I met Andy who was already on his way back up to Sarah with the clothing. Shortly, I arrived at the parking lot where I was greeted by several police cars and an ambulance. An officer told me that there was a missing persons report out on the girl. Before long, Andy and Sarah arrived with the girl, now clothed and shod. She was quickly loaded into the ambulance, hooked up to an IV and driven away. In the ensuing days, Sarah tried to learn more about the girl’s fate, to no avail.

And last, but not least, my most personal nude experience while climbing. It was the summer of 1977 – Brian Rundle and I had just finished an 8-day epic of first ascents in the Lillooet Range of British Columbia. We had thrashed our way down the length of Stokke Creek and finally arrived at the shore of Harrison Lake. An old logging camp, now unused for many years, sat there. Its buildings were still standing and in good shape. At the start of our trip, we had walked right through the camp and it appeared deserted. And today, as we came back down to the lakeshore, we walked through the camp once again and saw no one. The day was hot, so we dropped our packs, stripped naked and jumped into the lake. God, it felt so good! All of a sudden, 3 or 4 teenage girls appeared on the dock. I don’t know who was more surprised, them or us. They didn’t know what to make of us, so they quickly disappeared. We climbed back on to the dock and got dressed. They soon returned with more girls and a couple of men. The men were really concerned about how we got there and why we were there. They really didn’t believe that we walked right through their camp over a week ago and again today and no one noticed. It turned out that this it was now a juvenile detention camp. The only access is by boat or chopper, although there is an abandoned airstrip.  The inmates are all here for a thirty day stretch, then it’s back to city detention or release depending upon their situation. The two guys are councilors-wardens-guards or something like that. Security was solely based on the remote access – there was nowhere to go if you tried to escape. The guys were suspicious that we might be trying to break out one or more of the detainees. Eventually we were able to calm their fears, and they realized that we were probably mostly harmless. In fact they even went so far as to let us share their dinner with them. The girls had to run a lap of the airfield before getting fed; we were excused this duty. They also let us use their radiophone and we were able to make arrangements for the water taxi to stop by on his next trip, which by luck was tomorrow. Additionally they let us stay in one of the old logging camp bunkhouses which was pretty far removed from where the girls slept. I am sure that the guards must have taken turns at watch that night, just to ensure there was no funny business, which of course there wasn’t.