| The Kampf's Ridge Debacle--One Day Removed Trip Report |
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| The Kampf's Ridge Debacle--One Day Removed   | 
| Page Type: Trip Report Location: Utah, United States, North America Lat/Lon: 40.65700°N / 111.77°W Date Climbed/Hiked: Jun 27, 2005 | Page By: fowweezer Created/Edited: Jun 29, 2005 / Object ID: 170169 Hits: 604 Loading... Page Score: 79.47% - 1 Votes Loading... Vote: Log in to vote |
The Ascent
`Well, it started out like a typical Monday. Except that I was getting up earlier than usual and had no plans to go to work. So that was weird. And at 8 am or so I was meeting Glenn near I-15 to climb Mount Olympus. All the other suckers in the significant traffic snarl (construction-related) were on their way to their crappy jobs. I reminded myself to tone down my elitist snobbery, because, after all, I had just got off of my own crappy job 7 hours prior.
Anyways, we met a little after 8:00 am and hit the trail from above Wasatch Boulevard and Oakview Drive at around 9:00. The first part of the trail was easy to follow, but it quickly became confusing, as we were both relative amateurs when it came to the Mount Olympus area. Glenn did most of the route-finding as I was more clueless than he. We got to the base of the ridge after doing some bushwhacking. It wasn’t miserable, but I was glad to be climbing out of it a bit. The approach might have taken about an hour, although I don’t remember looking at my watch until we got to the summit.
The scrambling was interesting right away, and consisted mostly of Class 3 and Class 4 stuff, as far as I know. I’m no good with ratings though, being a relative newcomer to the sport.
The first pitch that Glenn chose to protect was a 5.5ish crack that involved at least one handjam. The crux, for me at least, was about 1 foot off the ground, but it was a nice pitch.
After that, we simul-climbed for a significant portion of the ridge, covering a lot of Class 4 terrain. The climbing was pretty varied, sometimes involving tiny slab moves, and sometimes just past vertical areas with giant holds. None of it was too taxing.
We protected two more pitches after that, as I recall. Glenn was the de facto leader of this trip, being that he’s the only one with real experience and know-how. Plus most of the gear was his. I contributed a mere 4 cams, which I had recently purchased but never used. Both pitches involved pretty significant exposure either to the east or west, and the whole route was pretty airy in general.
At some point, nearing the top of the ridge, we passed what we supposed was the top-out point for the Great Chimney. I didn’t really see it at all, but there were bolts and other gear there, and it seemed logical. Shortly after that point we came to an overhanging section of the ridge with significant drops to either side. We opted to listen to the guidebook and traverse onto a 5-6 inch wide ledge (the traverse was 15-20 feet) and then climb a crack on a huge granite face. The exposure was huge (several hundred feet), but it was fun. At some point after that there was a nearly knife-edged ridge that looked daunting. Glenn quickly scooted across it, walking on his hands. I followed more slowly, easing myself along.
At that point we were very near the summit and simul-climbed the rest of the way, focused on reaching our destination (the northern-most summit). It was unbelievably windy at the top at times, and the wind actually blew hard enough that it forced me to take a step back or fall at one point. We hunkered down in a cove protected by the summit block and ate and relaxed. Then the descent began.
The Descent
We had decided somewhere along the way that we would rap down the slab near the Great Chimney and then descend the gully at the bottom. There was snow down there, and part of me thought there might be a small trail somewhere down there.
We began to rap down, and it ended up taking far longer than we (or at least I) had thought it would. We had summitted at 2:45, so keep that number in mind. At 5:30 I placed a phone call and we weren’t done with the raps yet. It involved 6 or 7 rappels (can’t remember) down the face to reach the snow gully (also a bit of downclimbing).
After the first or second rappel we stood on a large overhanging ledge formed by a chockstone. There was a cave underneath us and to the right of us, and the slab stretched out to the left. Being the adventurers that we are, we opted to move right, squeeze into the slot, lower ourselves down the cave, and come out below the overhanging ledge. The squeeze was tight enough that our backpacks had to come off and I had to suck in my stomach to fit through. Loose rock was everywhere, but this was one of the most interesting parts of the climb.
Eventually finished with the rappels, we realized upon reaching the snow slope that it was far steeper than we (or I) had thought it would be. Glenn didn’t like the idea of descending it, and after stepping onto it and kicking steps down a few feet I didn’t either. Neither of us had ice axes along, and a slip would have been a long one. We rappelled one rope-length down the snow slope and then Glenn traversed westward to a dirt strip that ran alongside the snow. The rope barely reached. I followed him there.
While he pulled in the rope, I took the fun job and tried to figure a way out that would avoid the snow. I walked up over a small rock ridge that separated two gullies and found the other side completely free of snow, and not all that brushy. I decided that was the best route.
It didn’t stay clear for long, and we were soon descending loose dirt with lots of underbrush. It was thick with trees. Some boulder-hopping was involved as well. If I hadn’t just been involved in a 3 hour route-finding nightmare on a hike to Horsetail Falls the week before I would have said this was the most hellacious bushwhacking of my life. And Glenn was wearing shorts.
Some interesting route-finding eventually found us more or less where we needed to be, but not until I inadvertently placed my foot directly on a coiled up rattle snake. I didn’t realize it until I saw him move a tiny bit. I stepped back, not knowing what kind of snake it was (only seen a rattler once), and Glenn informed me that it was, indeed, a rattlesnake. We moved left quickly.
We saw people down below and I started to note that the sun was getting low. It was around 7:45 at this time I believe. We could see the trail and I thought it looked a long ways off, but it went surprisingly quickly, compared to the rest of the day.
We were moving slower than we had been, partially because we were both tired, and partially because Glenn’s knee seemed to be hurting some. I don’t think the nasty descent did it any good. When we could hear the stream we knew we were close, and when we crossed it Glenn stopped to wash his legs off. I stopped at the next crossing and washed a cut that I had reopened when I slipped on a boulder.
At several points during the descent I lowered myself down steep, loose dirt slopes by holding onto bunches of weeds in my hands. Trees came in handy for this as well. The bugs were horrendous, and I ate at least one. They attacked us mercilessly and I complained frequently about the smell of the new vegetation. After I cut my leg, every time I stopped a fly landed near the wound. It made me sick to watch.
We found the road down to the trailhead and passed a couple hikers on the way down. We reached the trailhead at 9 pm, almost exactly, and chatted with a couple of hikers, the same ones we had seen from above. They asked us something about trails, and I assured them that there was no trail where we had been, and it wasn’t worth the bushwhack. They eventually let us leave and we cruised down to 33rd south to find some food, which turned out to be tough since it was after 9 pm on a weeknight.
Since I had told several people that I would be back around 4 pm, and I had made plans with a friend for the evening, I had several phone calls to return, but it could wait until after I got food in me.
I informed Glenn on the car ride home that I definitely liked that route more than the West Slabs. The climbing was more varied, and the exposure was interesting. The crux was also more difficult, and, I believe, more fun. That being said, the descent was pretty horrible, at least at the time. Looking back it doesn’t seem bad at all. My delusions require me to remember it as a nice walk through the woods, but I know it wasn’t so. It took us over 6 hours to descend 3,500 feet or less (the trailhead sits at 5,450 or so on TopoZone and the north summit is less than 9,000 feet high).
At one point on the route we were discussing how long we would be gone. I joked that I had plans for the evening, and Glenn said he wasn’t worried about getting caught out in the dark. I laughed and said “If we’re out here after dark, we deserve to be hiking in the dark.” Well, we saw the sunset from the trailhead when we got back and it was completely dark as we were finding food.
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