| I seconded the open-book route as my pal Tony led. Tony's a powerful old rugby player, and can jug-haul all day, but the cracks of the Open-Book route tested his limits. He had just left me behind at one belay station when I heard "Falling!" He'd left so recently that I'd doubted he placed any gear, so I expected him to come whizzing past me at 90 miles an hour, testing the numerous anchors he'd set for me. Luckily he didn't, and later I was reminded of why I climb with him. When he fell, he knew he was at a crux, and had perfectly placed several pieces of pro before attempting the move. Without the stress of leading, I found the climbing easy, and we were soon at the top, or almost the top I should say. I couldn't bring myself to boulder the last summit block, and lightning was hitting surrounding peaks, so we didn't have time to mess around. We descended the rope-eater gully as fast as possible, hiked out as fast as possible, drove out as fast as possible, and still caught Hell at camp for not being back before dark. |
