I’d been working at the school the past 12 days, trying to start the school year off right. Long list of things to do at work this weekend, but I knew I had a little time to get outside. I had gone for an hour run this morning, but when my roommate Carlos suggested going for the Mendenhall Couloir, I couldn’t say no. Nothing like a half-day outing to get my head back on right.
Twenty minutes to get hastily packed. No time to look at the beta. No matter, Carlos has been this way before. We hit Grocery Outlet, and drove to the Convict Lake parking lot chocked full of tourists. Go to the lake. Take a picture, leave. On to the next. A spot quickly opened up. It was 12:30 by the time we got going, and Laurel Mountain sure did look a long ways off down there at the lake.
Carlos had done the route in three hours car to car, but he was jogging. I surely wouldn’t be able to jog the fifth class sections, so we guessed it would be about six.
The first few cruxes went off without a hitch. We were through the fifth class now said Carlos. We hadn’t brought a rope and it didn’t seem like we needed one. We climbed confidently up the route. A Death Valley Slot Canyon flipped 45 degrees, gotten lost and fallen all the way over here on Mt. Laurel. Soon there were junctions, narrows, and all sorts of different ways to go. I had nothing to offer, having no beta. Carlos seemed increasingly unsure of the route. We climbed a couple more dryfalls, and soon stout fifth class rose above us. “We are off route” Carlos said, I don’t remember this at all. But going down, would mean down climbing some sketchy stuff, so we tried to go to the right. The route went but it didn’t go easy. The walls became quite flaky, and we had to test every hold. We had no idea if we would be able to get back to the route or not.
A healthy dose of fear crept in, and all I could hope is that we would soon get out of this mess. A person had been rescued here the week prior, and here we were getting into a hairy situation. Somehow, someway, we climbed up and out of the incorrect route and were back onto sweet sweet class 2. I’ve learned that lesson many times but it never does seem to stick. Get your own beta. I think I’ve learned it this time.
We made quick work of the rest of the mountain. Our improvised route left us up on the ridge, so all in all we skipped about half the couloir. Up there high on that mountain, I looked way down on the school and everything else in that small town of ours. For a few minutes my mind had been completely elsewhere, focused on rock and holds, and life and death. But then it was time to go down, through thousands of feet of scree and back down to earth.
Anthony Ottati 