Relics, Grand View Spire, Colorado National Monument

I have to admit, this spring I haven’t really given much thought to climbing. Sure I’ll get out here and there as the days warm up, but mostly I am excited to keep backcountry skiing. This is the time of year when the snowpack starts to stabilize, and you can get out on the bigger lines you only drool at all winter long. Last Wednesday was Mike’s birthday, however, and he wanted to go climb a tower. Who was I to argue? It did feel weird packing for climbing, it’s a lot simpler in some ways, no big puffy clothes or equipment. After tossing a few ideas around, we settled on Relics on the Grand View Spire in Colorado National Monument. This route, first climbed by Michael Kennedy, Mike Baker and Bob Wade, hadn’t seen much action since it’s first ascent in 1991, and it sounded like a worthy objective.

We didn’t get out of town quite as early as hoped for, but soon enough we were heading for Junction as the day began to unfold, bright and beautiful. In no time we found ourselves on the rim road, and soon came to the parking for our route. I’d climbed in the Monument before, but had never approached anything from the top. The view of the towers from here was incredible, especially in the light of a new day. What a privilege to be here.

The walk to the rim took two minutes, and we went about setting the rappel anchors, which would double as anchors for the tyrolean traverse on the way back. The 400’+ rappel soon behind us, we stood below the first pitch and let the warm sun awaken our senses. Shorlty we were off, sinking our hands into the perfect crack of the first pitch. A balancey traverse left was protected by two pins, then some final steep moves to the anchor. Great climbing.

The next pitch was the biz, in terms of difficulty, anyway. Mike did a nice job on it, piecing together his way up the clean corner to the final 4’ roof blocking easier ground and the anchors above. I quickly followed, admiring his handiwork. We both agreed I’d have to give my fledging aid skills a go at it if we ever came back. The next pitch was described as becoming softer and sandier, so I figured I’d see what that meant. After a funky flare, the rock indeed turned into sandy, nastiness, but the climbing wasn’t hard. The final 20’ was a nice handcrack, which I cruised up, thinking I’d be at the belay in no time. As I topped out the crack, however, I was faced with several large blocks wedged in the way. The rock on either side was decomposing crap, meaning I had little to nothing to work with. After trying to figure out a way around the blocks, which certainly would have caused some damage if they cut loose, I decided this was a job for Mike and his master top stepping skills. I thought he could probably get in a high piece before the crack ran into the blocks, and figure out a way past it. I lowered back to the belay, bummed I had to retreat, but knowing I made the right, safe choice.

Mike quickly zipped up on TR and then topped stepped past with ease. Instead of belaying, though, he continued up, and his progress soon slowed to a crawl. From below, I occasionally fed out some rope, and occasionally heard rocks being trundled to the gash on our left. Hmm, well, if he falls I’ll probably hear crashing rocks AND screaming, so for now I guess he’s alright. As I would find out once my turn to climb came, Mike was battling through the chossiest rock I have ever “climbed” on. It was not much more than decomposing sand, pretending to be rock until you needed to use it, and then it laughed in your face. I had the luxury of hanging all over the rope to get through it, and Mike is the man for dealing with it on lead. Apparently it wasn’t pretty.

After this, we just had a short aid pitch to the top, which I quickly dispensed with and then took in the view while Mike jugged up. The panorama before us was amazing in the evening light, towers are so cool, and it’s so incredible to stand on an island in the sky. We celebrated with some PBR’s and Cadbury Eggs, and then went about rigging the tyrolean back to the rim.

On the way up, I’d been eyeing the traverse back with some apprehension. I’d only tyrloeaned once, a long time ago, and that was only 30 feet off the ground. This was over 100 feet long, with 400”+ of air under your butt as you scoot along. After some assurance that the anchor was good, and picturing the folks that slackline this high, I sufficiently convinced my brain this was an ok thing to do. Mike lowered me out, and then I headed for the other side. I stopped occasionally to take in the view and get used to trusting the equipment in such an exposed position. I was soon standing back on the rim, and Mike followed suit. We packed up the gear and headed back to Glenwood for a birthday dinner we were quite late for. Not that it bothered us, as we were all smiles, and talk of future ascents filled the car as we headed east into the gathering night.