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Show OQALmQN Wednesday, June 19, 1974 HOOMAN APRIN of the Miner's Find Page IS Never CuUhe SwiSchback. . . To a newcomer to Heber, one of the most majestic sights is the spectacular east face of Mt. Timpanogos with its bands of rock and snow towering above the Deer Creek Reservoir. It was to my amazement, and somewhat of a disappointment, when I found out that not only were there two trails going up the east side to the summit, but the mountain was one of the most popular hikes in the peaks around Salt Lake City in the summer. On a cloudy day, on April 5th, a short reconnaissance trip to study the possibility of finding something more than just a maintained trail put s of the trail me at the mouth of a glaciated cirque. The upper leading from the aspen groves was covered with deep snow. The alpine valley with its steep rock walls, scattered waterfalls, and narrow snow chutes silently bore the scar of the trail on its face, and convinced me that I wanted to come back to it for a climb. Thursday, May 31st, in a very pleasant and cool evening, Kris Anderson, Pam Rapplean, and I with full packs on our backs were quietly walking along the beginning of the established trail through the Theater in the Pines. Pam and Kris virtually had no previous climbing experience. Since I didnt expect to get involved in n a very technical climb, and they seemed very enthusiastic, I had asked them to join me a few days before, and they had accepted. We were planning to get off the trail and approach the steep rack band to the right of the path of the trail. Then, hopefully, climb it and attain the top of a high ridge that smoothly curved towards the final headwall of the summit. The familiar alpine cirque looked slightly different. Plenty of snow had melted, waterfalls were bigger, and everything looked very green. The trail gently wound through the bushes and the trees. We had decided that we were going to stay on the trail until the heavy brush thinned down, and then get off the trail and approach the scattered towers of the broken wall. The slow pace, the cool gentle breeze, and the silence of the woods slowly carried my mind away. I thought how nice it was to get away from the intensity of hard climbs for a while and yet share the beauty and excitement of doing a new route with friends who appreciated it. I enjoyed the walk immensely. If you walk the right way, breathing becomes fun, your body picks up a smooth controlled rhythm, the simple ritual of walking turns into an art, and you can go for hours without stopping. But only if you walk right. About a thousand feet or so higher, my thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the magnificent thunder of a waterfall sailing furiously through the air and disappearing out ot sight in a giant hole that it had carved through the layers of consolidate! snow covering the valley below. On the right side of the fall, a slightly overhanging wall of black rock rose sixty feet above us. We had three choices - to cross the d rushing stream on top of the snow bridge and then climb a steep, layer of snow to the left of the fall; or, climb the overhanging black rock to the right of the fall ; or to simply continue on the trail. But the three of us had a pretty good idea of why we were there. So soon, we were left with only two choices : the rock or the snow. Kris suggested crossing the snow bridge. It would have been a good choice, but there was a possibility of the snow collapsing under our weight and dropping us forty feet down into the rushing stream. A broken ledge system running up and left showed us a possible sign of weakness on the inhibiting profile of the overhanging black rock. I had a rucksack (frameless pack) that allowed me to have more balance and freedom of movement. The problem was to have Pam and Kris climb the wall with their bulky frame packs. Even with a rope protecting them from above, it would have been extremely unpleasant. Pam suggested that I haul the pack up with the rope, and then drop the rope down for them. It was with that plan in mind that I approached the broken ledge system, as I felt the cold rock under my fingertips, I became acutely aware of the creeping darkness. I had to climb, fast. A few awkward moves put me on a slippery and sloping foothold. I looked a t the rope going down from my waist and with a gentle curve extending to the base of the wall. We didnt have any technical hardware to provide protection for me. But, from the looks of the ledge system, it seemed that I could have done it without protection. I reached very high to the g right to grasp the upper edge of an inviting flake. But the flake made a threatening whisper and moved. So, slowly, I moved to the left. I had to concentrate very intensely now. I was getting forced out of the security of the ledge system onto the fairly smooth and wet section to the left. Delicately, I fought the constant pull of my pack and, with some strenuous moves, I reached the top. The first thought that came to my mind was that Kris and Pam should not come up this way. The climb had turned out to be harder four-fifth- hard-packe- sound-lookin- than I had thought and, because of my constant traverse to the left, the rope was diagonally stretched across the fall line. A fall by Pam or Kris would have meant an elbow and knee scratching pendulum to the left. Besides, it was dark by the time I stepped on the top. I looked around. The water was running out of another d snow tunnel before it rushed off the edge of the fall. In the fading light, the last visible images of my surroundings were the dense d sides of the canyon sloping towards the bed of the muddy creek. Sixty feet below me, at the other end of the rope, Pam and Kris were waiting for my signal to climb. The incredible noise of the waterfall made it very hard to communicate. But they finally heard me telling them to look for a campsite and that I would try to join them. I looked around in the dark to find a place to anchor the rope and rappel down. But the small trees were too thin, and there were no reliable projections to put the rope around. So, a few minutes later, I was fighting my way uphill in the dark, through the dense bushes, to get to where the band of the black cliffs thinned down. Soon I realized that I wasnt going to find a low angle place to cut across in the immediate vicinity. My strenuous uphill search continued along the seemingly endless upper edge of the rock band. About an hour or so later, I found a wav down to the camp. The friendly sight of the small campfire, surrounded by neatly arranged boulders, slowed my fast pace down. As I sat by the fire, I felt pleased with the short ordeal. We had a simple dinner. And as the shadow of the walls behind us crept sown in the bright moonlight, we hard-packe- brush-covere- fell asleep. |