Lovers Leap at Lake Tahoe

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We arrived at a rather crowded camp circle around midnight Thursday night. Slightly alarmed at the number of cars and campers, we parked in the first available parking spot, and pitched the tent in the only immediately available space - just enough open earth for the tent and the stakes, tilted at what turned out to be a fairly steep angle, from a trying-to-sleep point of view.

After spending the night trying to keep ourselves and the tent from rolling down-hill into the parked car, we awoke fairly early and found a flatter spot. We moved the tent, packed our gear, and headed up the climber trail to the cliffs, after reading the closure signs at the trailhead. (The entire Central Wall of Lover's Leap is closed until November first due to Golden Eagles nesting. This includes routes #23 through #33 in "Climber's Guide to the Tahoe Area.") We had our eye on doing The Line, a classic, and wanted to get started early so we wouldn't have to wait for the route.

About a hundred yards up the trail, though, we noticed that there were more campsites, mostly vacant, all flat, and offering a level of privacy and silence not available in the camp circle campgrounds. So we picked one out, dropped out packs, and moved the tent again, along with the cooler, the food, the garbage, the extra gear and misc. But it was a beautiful sight, and well worth the extra effort. Once settled in, we again hoisted our packs, and headed up the trail to the cliffs.

The route between the campsites and the wall itself is a remnant of the old Pony Express trail. I thought maybe it was an old stream bed at first; it's primarily composed of loose rocks and the footing is tricky in spots. But it was a thrill for me to be walking along such a piece of history, and the first view it affords you of the Leap is breathtaking. I looked up amongst the pines and was confronted by a headwall whose length is to be measured in fractions of a mile, rather than in numbers of feet, and whose height swallowed the climbers already crawling up its face.

We left the main road/trail, which skirts around the base of the wall, and followed a smaller trail through some brush and up a tales slope to the climbers trail directly at the foot of the granite. We found two parties already on The Line, and one waiting, and decided to leave that climb for another day. We walked farther down the trail to a climb called Haystack (5.8,) which had a second almost to the first belay, and no one waiting. We sorted gear while the second reached the belay and the leader started up the second crux pitch.

The crux on this climb is a 5.8 roof in the middle of the second pitch. We watched as the leader started up, then backed down then started up then backed down then waited a long time at the base of the roof and started up then backed down then we stopped watching and huddled together at the base of the climb, trying to keep out of the increasing wind and cold. A squirrel appeared from within the brush and amused us with his antics for a while, sniffing around both our packs and the other climbers' gear. We shooed him away every once and a while, while checking on the party above us, who didn't seem to be going anywhere fast. There appeared another squirrel to challenge the first's territory, and possible find (but everything was stowed securely in the packs so they really couldn't get at anything, anyway.) The two of them amused us even more with their antics, and we shooed them away every once in a while, while above us the leader had backed down to the belay station, and was debating with his second with increasing intensity. Meanwhile, the fight for the packs raged on, joined by at least one other squirrel, and possibly two (I'm sorry, but all squirrels look alike to me . . . )

I got up one last time to see what was going on above us, and checked one of the packs to make sure it was closed (it wasn't -- I closed it,) and the leader motioned us on through the climb. I stowed my pack (which had our lunch safely zippered away in the top pocket) in the top of a bush as extra added insurance from the rather aggressive, and now that I think about it, rather fat, squirrels. Tom started up the first pitch.

Haystack is described in the guidebook as one of the classics of the Leap, and it certainly deserves the title. The first pitch is smooth lie-back flake and face climbing on the characteristic dikes of the area. The second pitch is more of the same, with a cool (Tom says easy-ish) 5.8 roof move; a short pitch with the belay just above the crux roof. The third pitch is more flake and dike climbing -- smooth sensuous moves over solid rock; a climb requiring a combination of balancy face moves and semi-technical crack jamming. Tom lead all three pitches in fine style, and I followed with no problem once my hands lost their numbness.

The sun followed us up the face, and we topped out to warm temperatures and a beautiful downclimb. The trail from the top to the base winds among the ponderosa pines and follows a small stream for a while. The cool shade on the trail was welcome by that point in the day, and we stopped at the stream for Tom to dunk his head. We set a leisurely pace down the clear trail, and arrived at the Pony Express road in the middle of the day, hungry, thirsty, and satisfied after a good climb.

We followed the main trail/road to a different side trail, also leading us to the climbers trail along the wall and back to the base of out climb. We had not encountered the party that was ahead of us on the climb at all - we assumed they had traversed and walked off from the first belay ledge (?) Their gear was gone when we got back to the base of the climb, but ours was not, and I was looking forward to the bagel and power bar I had stashed in my pack.

That wasn't there anymore.

The pack was there, sitting in the bush just as I had left it. The afore-mentioned squirrels had taken payment for the entertainment they had offered us; of the two power bars, one bagel, one granola bar and one tiger bar, there was no trace. Not a wrapper, not a crumb, not even a thank you note. The **#$^%%^^!! squirrels had climbed into the leafy part of the bush, crawled underneath the top of my pack, unzipped the zipped top pocked, climbed into the pocket, dragged each and every item outside of the pocket, down the bush and down the hill. Leaving a gnaw hole in the bottom of the pocket as the only evidence of they're every having been there. I think we were at first mostly surprised, then we got pissed and even more hungry, and swore we would never underestimate our opponents again. Cute little squirrels, my arse!

So back to camp for lunch, and a beer, and a reconnaissance mission. We decided we wanted to try the first pitch of one of the few bolted lines at the Leap - a 10a face climb called Labor of Love. So we grabbed part of Tom's rack and a rope and off we went, back up the talus slope to the face just to the right of The Line. The pitch seems from the guidebook to be well-protected; seven bolts to a three-bolt belay and rap station. But the first bolt is twenty or twenty-five feet off the ground, and had us hesitating at the base of the climb. Tom said he's give it a go, and started up the first set of moves -- easy face climbing on big dikes. About three feet before he could reach the bolt, though, the dikes ran out, and after moving around a bit, Tom decided that to get to the bolt at all was sketchy and risking a fatal ground-fall. So he backed off and down-climbed the fifteen or so feet to the ground. Slightly disappointed, but ever the good sport, Tom offered to show me a little of the art of placing pro, and we spent the rest of the afternoon setting up mock anchors and generally having fun playing with gear.

I had forgotten to pack cups, plates and silverware for the weekend; our eating utensils consisted of a pot, a Swiss-army knife, and a measuring cup. Tom had fashioned two primitive spoons out of the aluminum trays his cinnamon rolls had come in that morning, and with these rudimentary tools, fixed ourselves a most delicious dinner of rice and Thai Peanut sauce, with fresh bell peppers and fresh strawberries for dessert. Contented, we went to bed early and slept well in our level abode.

Saturday morning we again awoke early (or, rather, Tom dragged me out of bed at a decent hour.) Fixed breakfast, packed up (sans lunch - take that you mangy little squirrels) and headed up to the rock to make another try at The Line (5.9) A group of two climbers arrive at the base of the climb literally seconds before we did, but we figured that this was about as short as we would have to wait, so we stuck it out. The leader started up as we were sorting gear, and finished the first pitch rather quickly. He imposed a pack on his second, though, and she had some problems negotiating the some-what balancy moves with the pack. So again, we waited through the morning trying to keep warm.

We had no squirrels to entertain us this morning, but as time went on, there were more and more people to keep us company. The group waiting for the climb after us turned out to be an acquaintance of mine from Planet Granite, by the name of Steve. A powerful, friendly guy with a bald head and of indeterminate racial origin. We passed the time waiting for the other climbers, and during Tom's most excellent lead, chatting and exchanging gym gossip. As I started up to clean the first pitch, there were three groups of two waiting on the climb, one couple had stopped by and decided not to wait, and another had commented on the fact that the climb was well named, for a number of reasons.

The Line is also described in the guide as one of the classics of the area, and it is by far my favorite climb of the weekend. It takes an aesthetic straight-up approach from the base to the top of the wall, and involves more difficult crack techniques than Haystack. The crux is a face move about twenty feet off the ground - a reachy deadpoint with no feet from a sloping dike. Height-dependent, I think, the leader of the previous party was able to keep his feet on and reach the good hold. The second pitch is also face and flake climbing, as is most of the third pitch. The climb ends on a 5.8 roof move that was sweet, sweet, sweet, with exposure to die for. Tom lead all three pitches in style.

We topped out and headed back to camp for lunch, while I debated weather or not I wished to be indoctrinated into the sect of real-pro leaders. The guide book lists Pop Bottle (5.6) also as a classic, and Tom was encouraging me to give it a go on lead. Either that, or he would lead Bear's Reach (5.7) another recommended route. I finally decided to give the lead a go, and we returned to the rock -- to run into another friend of mine from Planet Granite, the infamous Joe, of the oft-cited Joe-routes. He had mentioned to me earlier in the week that he was going to be in the area working on red-pointing some (I'm sure heinous) 12b route, but he showed up at the Leap on Saturday and lead his partner up Haystack while we were preparing to do Pop Bottle.

I started up the first pitch and did well on the first easy thirty or forty feet of the climb. The book lists the climb as three pitches, and describes a belay not far from the ground, but the topo doesn't show the first belay, and I decided to try and push the pitch as far as I could, maybe skipping the first belay entirely. But I was stopped at a roof which certainly didn't seem like 5.6 to me, and had to back down about 15 feet and set up an anchor in the dihedral crack. Tom bailed me out and lead the next two pitches - the second of which was quite fun. He managed the roof I had not been able to do, then three or four more fun and relatively easy roofs after that, to a belay on a huge ledge at the end of the second pitch. I had no trouble following the lead - a good lesson in positing out a climb. The beginning moves of the third pitch are face moves protected by a bolt; again they seemed much harder than 5.6 to me, even following. Tom was unable to locate the three-bolt belay at the top of the third pitch, and was not sure where the climb ended, so we completed the climb with a some-what exposed third-class walk off to the trail and down.

We both agreed that Pop Bottle seemed harder that 5.6, and would rate the climb at 5.8. There was some question as to whether we were on the right climb, as well, but certain aspects of what we did fit the description perfectly. Puzzled, but happy 'cause it was a good climb, whatever it was (and I had picked up some experience points in leading) we returned to camp for dinner.

And ran into another friend of mine, Grag Faulk - my very first climbing partner from my CityRock days. He was climbing with a friend of his, Sean, and we sat and chatted and did some catching up and discussed the climbs at the Leap. Greg mentioned that a huge flake had fallen off Pop Bottle last year, and had most assuredly changed the rating of the climb. He suggested we try Traveler's Buttress on Sunday, and failing that, Corregation Corner. Traveler's Buttress is listed in the book 50 Classic Climbs of North America, but apparently involves some nasty 5.9 offwidth maneuvers; something I'm not sure I'm up to doing quite yet. Greg also said it was "by far the hardest 5.9 climb he had ever done." Maybe next year.

We also got to talking about Labor of Love, and how run out the first bolt is. Sean agreed that it was a beautiful climb, well deserving its 10a rating (if not something a little higher.) We described Tom's experience trying to lead it the previous day, and Sean replied that if you couldn't get to the first bolt, you didn't deserve to be on the climb. I dropped the subject. (Upon reflection, I find the entire idea of "deserving to be on a climb" rather ludicrous. Theological differences, check your ego at the door.) Greg and Sean also described a climb not in the guide book, to the right of Psychedelic Tree, with four bolts protecting the face moves off the ground, and leading to first a right to left then a left to right flake. Rappable with two ropes. Greg said he thought it was 5.8+; Tom, who lead Greg up it, said it even might go at 5.9. Another one to check out next year.

Sunday dawned warmer, and mysteriously less crowded, than the previous two days. Tom and I discussed trying Corrugation Corner (5.7) but it's longer than the routes on the East wall, and we were hoping to get back to the Bay Area at a reasonable time that evening. So we settled on Bear's Reach (5.7) and set out for the rock somewhat later than usual. Still, we didn't have to wait for the climb, and while I briefly entertained the thought of leading the first pitch, Tom offered, and I wimped out.

The first pitch of Bear's Reach follows a left-facing flake, then traverses over some balancy face moves into a right-facing crack system to the first belay on a good ledge. After following the first pitch, I sat with my back to the rock, enjoying the view of the Pony Express Trail and the valley through which it winds. The sun peeked over the crest of the rock as Tom was climbing the second pitch, and bathed my cold hands in its warmth as I watched two more squirrels scope out our packs at the base of the climb. Absolutely satisfied that there was no way I was giving them any more of my nutritional supplies, I gloated a bit at their loss, and my gain. "One of the great things about being human -- we learn."

Tom lead the second pitch as well, through a series of flakes that turn almost into chimneys, they're so flat and wide. I didn't have as much fun on the second as on the first pitch, but Tom liked the second better. In either case, wonderful climbing, as it had been all weekend. Bear's Reach and another climb, East Crack, converge at the second belay, and the party climbing East Crack went up the third and last pitch before we did. According to one of the other climbers, the third pitch is short and relatively easy, with only a couple of lie-back moves over a small roof, then finishing on a fourth-class ramp to the top. Tom convinced me to lead the pitch, which I did with no problems, even through the few 5.7 moves. A good confidence-builder after having to back down the day before.

We took the walk-off slowly, enjoying the silence and the solitude, before we had to head back to civilization. We have an appointment for next year. . .

"Ya gotta check this place out. . . "