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Post renamed to TR: Landslide Chimney, Dog Face 3-Mar-2018 At 11:27:59 AM robbio

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PART 2/3

With pitch 1 dispensed of, it was time for me to get my thrutch on. But not before i hung my rack down low in between my legs. The chimney was pretty tight so i was forced to spread my legs in order to get purchase with my knees on the wall in front of me. And to think i almost wore shorts... It takes a few meters to get into the groove so to speak, and from then on I am in my element. I soon find an old carrot but am quick to dismiss it. It is shaped like an hourglass, probably 2 or 3mm at it's thinnest due to corrosion. Not worth even clipping i thought, but low and behold i am able to set a number 4 big bro at the same height, but a little deeper into the chimney. I am happy to put it to good use. 2/3rds of the way through the chimney i feel as though i have come to a crossroad. Straight up above me the chimney looked too wide to bridge. Deeper in the chimney looked doable but dirty. Or out onto the arete looked easy and at least had some horizontals which should take gear..... After some deliberation I ventured out onto the arete at least to have a look. Like a moth drawn to a flame i was blindly drawn towards potential gear placements.

As i stop to place a good medium cam my remaining gear (which is still hanging down well below me) swings about, nearly pulling me of balance. I curse for a bit and quickly place the cam. I climb on gingerly up the arete, placing some crap gear as i go. The more i push on the sandier it becomes. I feel committed to continuing upwards at this point but am totally rattled. The sandy rock is certainly getting the best of me. "What the fu#k am i doing?" i mutter to myself. I long for being back in the chimney with the the sense of security it provided just moments earlier. I feel like an idiot for going offroute like this, especially when all i had to do was to continue cruising up the enjoyable chimney. But no point dwelling on it.

I look up and try to break it down to make it seem less overwhelming. Hand jam a sandy crack and pull onto the ledge and it's over, for the time being at least. I somehow make it happen and apologise to Paul for taking as long as did. At this point most of my biners are stuck closed to varying degrees due to the amount of sand in them. 2 big hexes and 2 big bros later, my belay in the sandy crack of doom was in place. The belay didn't exactly inspire me with confidence. Much like Paul's rusty carrot from 1hr earlier, the rock could be pulled apart and scraped away with my bare hands.

It felt only fair to lean back fully on my own belay and test my fate before sending Paul up on it. At least while my gear below me was still clipped into the rope. I lean back, eyes fixated on the gear in the crack. Such big gear but such shit rock. I could hear and see the pieces shift as they bit and scraped into the sandy crack, which sent sand pouring down over my eyes. It was not a nice feeling but it held my weight. "That's a start". I thought to myself. "It's going to have to do..."