Peak(s):	Gothic Nightmare - 6100
Date Posted:	11/11/2015
Date Climbed:	11/01/2015
Author:	Furthermore

Fear Runs Deep: An Intro to The Mystery Towers
Gothic Nightmare Something Wicked Comes This Way: VI, "5.9 A2+" In reality, 5.9 A3/A3+ October 10-13 2015, October 30-November 1, 2015 "I was free-climbing vertical mud. Not out of my own free will. The perfect #3 Friend placement I had excavated from the mud, jump-tested, and moved up on had just exploded, leaving a depression the size and shape of a chili bowl. The only reason I hadn't fallen was that one foot was stemmed onto a knob. Now I was stuck: one foot on the knob and my shoulder pressed against the opposite wall of the dihedral. All the nearby holds were covered in dirt from my attempts to excavate the next placement. The pump flooded in." John Sherman - Sherman Exposed: Slightly Censored Climbing Stories. I'm not even sure where to begin. My motivation to return for complete horror on mud, a real life nightmare, has me scratchin'. The idea of climbing Gothic Nightmare, equally a bad idea on my part as it was Noah's, sounded like a good idea. After completing five major routes in the Fishers including several shorter towers, I felt prepared to climb in the Mysterys. How I was so wrong. Despite his better judgment, David decided to join Noah and I after our constant badgering. He should have stuck with his gut and stayed home. They couldn't arrive until late on Saturday the 10th so I decided to drive down early and hike a load of iron and ropes to the base of the route via the Onion Creek canyoneering route. Having been to the base of the tower before, I was reminded how intimidating and difficult the climbing was going to be. The vibe of the Mystery Towers was much different from the Fisher Towers. Sunset on the Atlas and the Aliens. David and Noah arrived late but still managed to wake up early and start the approach. While hiking along the south side of the tower, Noah comments, "This doesn't look that muddy, it actually looks pretty good!" As we made the turn to the southwest prow, he took his comment back. Mud curtains flowed downward on the route which could only be deciphered by a barely visible seam through the mud-coated draperies. Sunset over the Hydra. Both Noah and I wanted the first pitch but Noah prevailed and started his lead. Originally the first pitch stretches 210 feet and as with previous ascents, we decided to break the original pitch into two pitches. The climbing started with a nice "clean" C1 crack for the first 30 feet which was quickly tackled. Then a mud roof had to be bypassed. Several pieces were placed carefully to allow for the cam to expand into the mud. Too much cleaning would result in an un-climbable face. Noah starting the first pitch. Noah starting the first pitch. Upward through the mud curtain, a less than inspiring bolt ladder linked the climbing line to a thin seam. Not even three bolts in a row could provide confidence. Mud choked the seam which created some "exiting" climbing. This section ate up 4 spectres and several wiggling peckers. Sweet spectre! (Photo by David) Once the seam ended, a bolt ladder provided upward progress. Some bolts were inspiring while most were not. Noah reached a decent bolt and drilled piton, created an anchor and got lowered off. It was my turn to battle the mud. I jugged the line, tied in and started my upward crawl. A reachy bolt ladder guided me into the unknown. Some bolts were hard to locate due to them being buried completely in mud. Other bolts were easy to find since they stuck out over an inch. Starting the true grit of pitch 1. About to start the business of pitch 1. About to start the business of pitch 1. Bounce testing a pecker. Pitch 1. Killer bolt on pitch 1. I'm not sure in the pun is intended.... (Photo by David) Cleaning pitch 1. Mud curtain. (Photo by David) Aid trickery bypassed the thickest mud curtain where I was pleasantly surprised by a clean aid finish requiring no hammering. I was excited to have my lead for the day complete. David cleaned the pitch and we hiked out. We would return tomorrow for David's lead on pitch 3. Leading the second pitch (Photo by Noah) We started our hike up Onion Creek, a familiar path now, to the base at first light. Noah and David jugged to the top of pitch two while I stayed on the ground. After racking up, David took the lead up a nice "clean" C1 aid crack. 20 feet after the "clean" crack, the crack became mud-choked and harder to negotiate. I laid at the bottom of the tower as the sounds of mud chunks and rock fell around me. For a long time it sounded like a war zone as mud chunks flew downward with no idea where they were going to land. David started complaining about his lack of nailing experience and how "interesting" the climbing was becoming. Noah and I only provided encouragement. Then I heard a WHOOOMP followed simultaneously with a deep moan as I saw David falling backwards in slow motion. Feet were flailing upside down with arms waving in a backstroke swimming motion. The sound of iron clinging echoed as a piton blew from the crack. A giant cloud of mud and dust engulfed him as he finally came to a stop 30 feet below from where he was just standing. It looked like an explosion had just gone off. Luckily, David was alive. He felt the back of his head and demanded to be lowered as his head was gushing blood. Once Noah lowered him off his pitch, he promptly rappelled to the ground. We kept pressure on the back of his head because his head was lacerated just below the helmet. Without a doubt, we needed to retreat for the day and headed into Moab to have his head inspected. Blood! Keeping pressure on the cut to the ER The wait at the Moab ER wasn't too long. As one of the nurses was about to take his temperature via an ear reader, she commented, "Whoa, is this dried blood in your ear?" David responded, "No, that's just mud." The medical staff were baffled and couldn't understand what we were doing or how he exactly fell. A few hours later, David with discharged with 4 staples in his scalp. He remarked how he would never return to the tower. A smart man. Frothy beverage consumption commenced in celebration that his fall and injuries were not worse. Early to rise, Noah and I hesitantly returned to the base of the route to finish David's pitch. Noah took the lead and cursed as he battled his way up the rotten rack. We switched lead ropes and found that David's fall was stopped by a mud horn and he had adequately core shot his rope on the fall. David's core shot from his fall. (Photo by David) Since David furiously back cleaned cams the day prior, probably contributing to a larger than needed whipper, we came equipped with an arsenal of additional cams. Thanks Glen (who decided to join us only for encouragement at the base and to practice his oil painting skills) for your patience as we woke you up before sunrise to ransack your cams. Our cam rack for this pitch included seven to eight BD #2s and #3s, quadruple #4s, old #4.5, triple #5s and double #6s. We didn't want a repeat of the day prior. Today's forecast: 90% chance of heavy mud falling followed by low visibility due to dust. Belaying wasn't enjoyable as I desperately tried to hide under the belay anchor as comets of mud drizzled down. When will this nightmare end? David and Glen gave us encouragement from a safe distance at the base in a sick comical way. The crux piece where David fell was a mud bong equalized with an over hammered-in spectre. Near the off-width finish of the pitch, Noah ran out of #4s and didn't want to be lowered off his current piece to back clean any of the pieces. He demanded I send up the stickclip with some tape where he promptly taped a #3 to the end of the stickclip and jammed the #3 six feet above him where the crack narrowed. Placed in a blind fashion, he committed to the #3 as he bat-manned his way up a runner attached to the cam. The pitch was almost over. When Noah arrived at the anchor, he only had one #5 cam left. The pitch clocked in around A3-. He suggests A2++ 5.5+. Is this mud climbing even rateable? Another fine bolt. Looking down the first pitch. Ah, Aid anchors. Looking down the first pitch. As I jugged the rope, I cursed when I saw the spectre since I figured I wouldn't be able to remove it since it was so welded into the "rock." To my surprise, a few gentle taps and the spectre glided out of the mud. Me jugging pitch 2. (Photo by Noah) Top of the second pitch ridge. Now for my pitch, the "A1 pitch." Two placements of gear led me to a drilled pin followed by a rivet hangered bolt which both had fixed carabiners on them. I stepped up on the bolt only to find a blank wall of mud. The only placement I saw was a questionable hook move which I didn't want to make since there was nothing to clip or place above the hook. Only leprosy-like mud flakes coated the upper flanks of the wall. I top stepped, hammered off the mud and found nothing. Noah barked at me, "There has to be a way! Don't you see that bolt?" The bolt he was referring to was the shadows of 1 cm thick mud flakes. I refused to make the hook move as that would leave me with large fall potential on a rivet hanger. Noah reluctantly lowered me down. Pissed, Noah said, "Fine, I'll take the pitch." He tied into the lead line and bat-manned up to the bolt. My turn, "There has to be a way, don't you see it. Don't you see that bolt? The route clearly pendulums to the right." Noah didn't see anything either. No bolts. No rivets. The fixed carabiners became apparent that a previous party bailed. We would have to do the same. I wanted to bail, the unknown and the whole idea "A1 pitch" clearly being much harder had me worried. With some discussion, we decided to leave our fixed ropes, consult the Yoda of desert towers and then make a decision about re-bolting the bolt ladder that clearly eroded away or was ripped. Noah confirming nothing on pitch 3. Sunset over the upper tower. The fear and anxiety would plague me for the next two weeks. Since I had a few extra days in Utah, Glen and I headed towards Canyonlands to climb Washer Woman. The entire drive to Washer Woman I was nervous about leading. My head had changed watching David's fall while the unknown had me gripped. I just wanted to go sport climbing on routes I had already done. Glen offered to lead the entire route but I figured the best way to clear my head was to just to take the lead. I took the first pitch on Washer Woman and after 15 feet of leading, I felt my head was back to normal. It's amazing what good rock can do. Glen followed and remarked how sandy the pitch was. Are you kidding? That was some of the most splitter rock climbs around! I didn't even notice any of the sand. Glen crushing pitch 3 on Washer Woman. ************************************************************************************************************************************************ "The rock on the Gothic makes the Titan look like granite. Once again I drew the first pitch, which entailed tied-off knife blades, expanding blocks, and dirt-dagger free climbing. I hadn't nailed for a year and was pretty spooked. In the South, they'd say I was shaking like a dog shitting peach pits, but this was more like a dog passing sea urchins." John Sherman - Sherman Exposed: Slightly Censored Climbing Stories. ************************************************************************************************************************************************ The back of Gothic Nightmare. Noah and I planned our return. I was on edge, nervous and knew what the start of my pitch looked like and it wasn't good. The tower was wearing on me as I just wanted the experience to be over. We desperately tried to find a third as a third makes aid climbing so much more enjoyable. No one was interested, not even for a free jug to the summit. Fortunately, Noah was able to borrow a nice Bosch drill. I certainly wasn't excited about placing bolts on lead with a hand drill since the one bolt I have placed on lead with a hand drill completely sucked to install. Jugging pitch 3. Drills-a-swinging. On the drive out, Noah texted me mentioning that the drill hadn't fully charged. The last thing I wanted to do was jug a tower with gear and a drill to find out that the battery is dead. I wanted to bail and this seemed like a good excuse. Fortunately, Noah was able to drop off the drill to charge with a friend in Moab while we shuttled another load of gear to the base. Onion Creek was becoming a dreaded approach. Since we had some extra time, we decided to bag some of the shorter easier towers along the approach. The first tower we climbed was Merrymen Tower which was actually a really unique, fun climb (if such a things exists in the Mysterys) with a small summit that masted over Onion Creek. It was nice to climb a casual 5.8 route. Traverse on pitch 1 of Merrymen. Summit of Merrymen. Summit silhouette. Also along the way, we decided to climb The Hunchback which was located 50 yards south of the start of Something Wicked This Way Comes. Somehow, we decided to try a new route up The Hunchback that appeared it might be able to be free climbed. That tower provided a less casual ascent with some cursing and some unexpected hammer aid. We returned the following morning early to jug, haul and prepare for the next pitch. As soon as we were at the top of the 3rd pitch, the anxiety and fear hit me. I didn't want to lead the pitch. The fear of whipping on a rivet with ledge decking potential had me really scared. I thought about my family, my daughter and how it might be a real possibility that I could get seriously injured or killed on this climb. Doubt runs deep in my head as I feel so inexperienced even with my "low" mileage in the Fishers. I don't feel prepared. I felt exactly how Sherman explains it, a shaking dog passing sea urchins. It's true, I'm a chickenshit. About to emotionally breakdown, Noah offered encouragement along with frustration. "Who's going to climb this with me? Look at what we have done so far. It would be such a wasted effort." Ultimately, I decided to tie in and start my lead. Hell, I had a Bosch right? I knew the first placements from two weeks ago and I quickly reached our previous high point. I purchased removable steel hangers which provided more security than rivet hangers, giving me more confidence as I stepped upward. I conceded to the lack of gear placements and installed a bolt. At least this way, I wouldn't rip a questionable bolt and very insecure pin placement and deck. Upward, I stepped finding a thin horizontal mud-choked seam. Ah, I can place some peckers horizontally. A1 huh? Equalizing two horizontal peckers, I stepped up finding an old bolt hole. Clearly there were bolts here. I top stepped on the peckers and drilled another bolt. As soon as I installed the next bolt, top-stepped, the old rivet ladder appeared. I proceeded upwards into the unknown. Equalized Beaks. Once I gained some ground, I was back in the groove of climbing although the fear ran deep down my spine. Many of the bolts were spaced so far apart that top-stepping and swinging a nut was barely enough to snag the next bolt. The first ascensionists bat hooked between bolts which is fine on new bolts that are not sticking out 1-2 inches. A regular strategy I used to keep rivets on the bolts was to tape them on the inch of metal sticking out. Looking down half way up pitch 3. Follow the rivets.... So obvious since they stick out. After several very bad bolts, I decided to replace an existing bolt that stuck out over 1.5 inches with questionable climbing above the bolt. If I fell, I would certainly rip 4-5 bolts; I'm not sure that qualifies as A1 if I am potentially going to fall 30-50 feet. Bolts that were spaced so far apart either required occasional gear placement or scary free climbing. At one point, I reached a newer bolt (2009?) that had already eroded 1 cm from the hanger. There was at least 15 feet of free climbing to reach the next bolt and then another 15 feet of free climbing to the bolt beyond that. Dirty 5.8 free climbing mantles commenced as I clawed upward to the first intermediate bolt. The next bolt was less inspiring. Standard bolt on pitch 3. I stepped upward to rivet the next bolt and my foot was starting to sink into the soft mud/dirt. That's odd I thought, I didn't think the mud was that soft. I was beginning to slip as my foot gave way under the mud. Clawing at anything that would keep me attached, really not wanting to whip on the previous 2 bolts, I was actually dislodging a boulder the size of a small oven. The boulder tumbled downward leaving a dust trail similar to a comet. I somehow didn't fall off with the boulder. Echoing across the valley the boulder plummeted to the ground. Holy Shit! Did I just kill Noah? I screamed and there was no response. Again, screaming, I finally got a response. Whew, I didn't kill my belayer. Gathering my shaking body, I stepped up and riveted the bolt that was sticking out over an inch. Just above that bolt was a small ledge. Maybe that will be the end of the pitch? Again, I replace an existing bolt in poor condition. I step upward, placed an offset cam with the fear that the flake in which the cam was placed was going to blow. The only thing above me was a narrow ridge requiring more free climbing. Not the belay anchors as I had hoped. As I started to straddle the knife ridge above my questionable cam, I swung my leg over the ridge but the drill didn't follow. I was about to be thrown off-balance and ripped off the ridge due to the fucking drill weighing me down. I was gripped. When will this pitch end? Somehow, I manage not to get swiped off the ridge and find the next rivet. There is at least another 30-40 feet of climbing. My heart sinks. I rivet, make a free move and reach the final pin/bolt ladder. Mangling upward, I finally reach the belay anchors. That was one of the longest 140 foot pitches I have ever led. I breathe, fix the ropes and Noah begins his jug. How I feel after my pitch. (Photo by Noah) Noah jugging pitch 3. Once Noah arrives at the anchor, we discuss our options. We have two pitches left which are supposedly easier and easier. We decide due to timing, we should bail for the day and make sure we have a full day for the remaining 150 feet of the tower. Nothing is going smoothly. At least the next day, we won't have to haul as much gear. My A1 pitch was not straightforward and the following pitch was also rated A1. We were tantalizingly close but at least my leads were complete. 500 feet of rappelling guided us back to the ground where Noah's friend from Moab came to give us encouragement and beer. Thanks Dave! Our final approach for the tower began before daylight. We reached the base at first light and began our 500 foot jug to the top of the 4th pitch. Ready to be finished, Noah took the final leads with fear running deep. What Noah thinks about pitch 4. Sunrise on the Hydra. A bolt ladder guided Noah upwards where some of the bolts stuck out over 2 inches. Ledge potential falls, inspired Noah to replace 3 bolts on his pitch including the worst bolt on the route which stuck out 2.5 inches. How is that bolt even staying in the rock? Noah on pitch 4. Noah looking down on his lead on pitch 4. (Photo by Noah) Damn, I love these things..... Not a bad belay ledge. Best bolt on the route! Where are the screamers? Jugging pitch 4. He reaches the final saddle as the summit tower looms over him and he fixes the line. I jug and reach the saddle and for the first time, I feel like we might actually reach the summit. Noah takes a limited rack and begins the free climb across the summit ridge passing a rock alien along the way. He reaches his two points of aid: a horrible drilled pin and a quarter inch bolt sticking out at least an inch. Looking back at the belay from just past the alien. (Photo by Noah) Stepping up on the quarter inch bolt, Noah begins to realize he's reached the "Mantle of DOOM." He curses and scratches around the surface of the rock above the bolts figuring out the best way to execute the move. Only mud, cobbles and dust shed from the surface. Finally building the courage, he makes the mantle above the bolt. Barely hanging on, he scrambles to the final anchors just below summit. The bolt protecting the Mantle of DOOM. With all of the crazy stuff Noah has climbed, he remarked how that mantle was one of the scariest free climbing moves he has ever made. I would have probably replaced the bolt. He scrambles to the top and realizes he has finally summited Gothic Nightmare. The summit traverse. Summit. Is this for real? Noah's summit shot. (Photo by Noah) He quickly returns to the anchor, fixes a belay line and a jugging line for my traverse and climb to the summit. I reach the anchor and make the final moves to the summit. Capped with a thin layer of Moenkopi rock the summit was only 2 feet wide and 3 feet long and perfectly flat; smaller than a coffee table. We enjoyed our time on the summit before starting my least favorite part. The descent. Summit view looking down. Summit shot. Summit shot. (Photo by Noah) Noah about to loose his S^&t. With only a few minor problems on the rappel, we returned to the ground. My hips began to hurt after packing out full trad racks, iron racks and 4 ropes. Relieved our adventure was finished, Noah headed back to Colorado while I stayed in Utah to meet my family for some much needed easy type 1 family fun. I was emotionally drained and had an extra � day to do something before my family arrived. To "get back on the horse," I decide to return to the Fishers and rope solo Dunce Rock. I'm not sure that was the best recovery solution although it was surprisingly casual. A week after the climb, I'm still trying to absorb what I went through. My psyche for climbing is the lowest it has been for years. Even for easy/moderate sport climbs. I need to start over and gain a lot more experience. This climb scared me way more than Cottontail (C3) or the Rasta Wall (A3/4) on River Tower. The Citadel calls out to me but as I re-read about the stories and the routes on The Citadel, I feel exactly the way I did about reading it the first time - I'm never going to climb it. I'm humbled. Maybe someday..... The Citadel. One bad MoFo. Here is a link to Noah's trip report. Hang on tight. Noah's Report. Route Topo Thumbnails for uploaded photos (click to open slideshow):

Fear Runs Deep: An Intro to The Mystery Towers

Gothic Nightmare

Something Wicked Comes This Way: VI, "5.9 A2+" In reality, 5.9 A3/A3+
October 10-13 2015, October 30-November 1, 2015

"I was free-climbing vertical mud. Not out of my own free will. The perfect #3 Friend placement I had excavated from the mud, jump-tested, and moved up on had just exploded, leaving a depression the size and shape of a chili bowl. The only reason I hadn't fallen was that one foot was stemmed onto a knob. Now I was stuck: one foot on the knob and my shoulder pressed against the opposite wall of the dihedral. All the nearby holds were covered in dirt from my attempts to excavate the next placement. The pump flooded in."

John Sherman - Sherman Exposed: Slightly Censored Climbing Stories.

I'm not even sure where to begin. My motivation to return for complete horror on mud, a real life nightmare, has me scratchin'. The idea of climbing Gothic Nightmare, equally a bad idea on my part as it was Noah's, sounded like a good idea. After completing five major routes in the Fishers including several shorter towers, I felt prepared to climb in the Mysterys. How I was so wrong.

Despite his better judgment, David decided to join Noah and I after our constant badgering. He should have stuck with his gut and stayed home. They couldn't arrive until late on Saturday the 10th so I decided to drive down early and hike a load of iron and ropes to the base of the route via the Onion Creek canyoneering route. Having been to the base of the tower before, I was reminded how intimidating and difficult the climbing was going to be. The vibe of the Mystery Towers was much different from the Fisher Towers.

Sunset on the Atlas and the Aliens.

David and Noah arrived late but still managed to wake up early and start the approach. While hiking along the south side of the tower, Noah comments, "This doesn't look that muddy, it actually looks pretty good!" As we made the turn to the southwest prow, he took his comment back. Mud curtains flowed downward on the route which could only be deciphered by a barely visible seam through the mud-coated draperies.

Sunset over the Hydra.

Both Noah and I wanted the first pitch but Noah prevailed and started his lead. Originally the first pitch stretches 210 feet and as with previous ascents, we decided to break the original pitch into two pitches. The climbing started with a nice "clean" C1 crack for the first 30 feet which was quickly tackled. Then a mud roof had to be bypassed. Several pieces were placed carefully to allow for the cam to expand into the mud. Too much cleaning would result in an un-climbable face.

Noah starting the first pitch.

Noah starting the first pitch.

Upward through the mud curtain, a less than inspiring bolt ladder linked the climbing line to a thin seam. Not even three bolts in a row could provide confidence. Mud choked the seam which created some "exiting" climbing. This section ate up 4 spectres and several wiggling peckers.

Sweet spectre! (Photo by David)

Once the seam ended, a bolt ladder provided upward progress. Some bolts were inspiring while most were not. Noah reached a decent bolt and drilled piton, created an anchor and got lowered off. It was my turn to battle the mud. I jugged the line, tied in and started my upward crawl. A reachy bolt ladder guided me into the unknown. Some bolts were hard to locate due to them being buried completely in mud. Other bolts were easy to find since they stuck out over an inch.

Starting the true grit of pitch 1.

About to start the business of pitch 1.

About to start the business of pitch 1.

Bounce testing a pecker.

Pitch 1.

Killer bolt on pitch 1. I'm not sure in the pun is intended.... (Photo by David)

Cleaning pitch 1. Mud curtain. (Photo by David)

Aid trickery bypassed the thickest mud curtain where I was pleasantly surprised by a clean aid finish requiring no hammering. I was excited to have my lead for the day complete. David cleaned the pitch and we hiked out. We would return tomorrow for David's lead on pitch 3.

Leading the second pitch (Photo by Noah)

We started our hike up Onion Creek, a familiar path now, to the base at first light. Noah and David jugged to the top of pitch two while I stayed on the ground. After racking up, David took the lead up a nice "clean" C1 aid crack. 20 feet after the "clean" crack, the crack became mud-choked and harder to negotiate. I laid at the bottom of the tower as the sounds of mud chunks and rock fell around me. For a long time it sounded like a war zone as mud chunks flew downward with no idea where they were going to land.

David started complaining about his lack of nailing experience and how "interesting" the climbing was becoming. Noah and I only provided encouragement. Then I heard a WHOOOMP followed simultaneously with a deep moan as I saw David falling backwards in slow motion. Feet were flailing upside down with arms waving in a backstroke swimming motion. The sound of iron clinging echoed as a piton blew from the crack. A giant cloud of mud and dust engulfed him as he finally came to a stop 30 feet below from where he was just standing. It looked like an explosion had just gone off.

Luckily, David was alive. He felt the back of his head and demanded to be lowered as his head was gushing blood. Once Noah lowered him off his pitch, he promptly rappelled to the ground. We kept pressure on the back of his head because his head was lacerated just below the helmet. Without a doubt, we needed to retreat for the day and headed into Moab to have his head inspected.

Blood!

Keeping pressure on the cut to the ER

The wait at the Moab ER wasn't too long. As one of the nurses was about to take his temperature via an ear reader, she commented, "Whoa, is this dried blood in your ear?"

David responded, "No, that's just mud." The medical staff were baffled and couldn't understand what we were doing or how he exactly fell.

A few hours later, David with discharged with 4 staples in his scalp. He remarked how he would never return to the tower. A smart man. Frothy beverage consumption commenced in celebration that his fall and injuries were not worse.

Early to rise, Noah and I hesitantly returned to the base of the route to finish David's pitch. Noah took the lead and cursed as he battled his way up the rotten rack. We switched lead ropes and found that David's fall was stopped by a mud horn and he had adequately core shot his rope on the fall.

David's core shot from his fall. (Photo by David)

Since David furiously back cleaned cams the day prior, probably contributing to a larger than needed whipper, we came equipped with an arsenal of additional cams. Thanks Glen (who decided to join us only for encouragement at the base and to practice his oil painting skills) for your patience as we woke you up before sunrise to ransack your cams. Our cam rack for this pitch included seven to eight BD #2s and #3s, quadruple #4s, old #4.5, triple #5s and double #6s. We didn't want a repeat of the day prior.

Today's forecast: 90% chance of heavy mud falling followed by low visibility due to dust. Belaying wasn't enjoyable as I desperately tried to hide under the belay anchor as comets of mud drizzled down. When will this nightmare end? David and Glen gave us encouragement from a safe distance at the base in a sick comical way.

The crux piece where David fell was a mud bong equalized with an over hammered-in spectre. Near the off-width finish of the pitch, Noah ran out of #4s and didn't want to be lowered off his current piece to back clean any of the pieces. He demanded I send up the stickclip with some tape where he promptly taped a #3 to the end of the stickclip and jammed the #3 six feet above him where the crack narrowed.

Placed in a blind fashion, he committed to the #3 as he bat-manned his way up a runner attached to the cam. The pitch was almost over. When Noah arrived at the anchor, he only had one #5 cam left. The pitch clocked in around A3-. He suggests A2++ 5.5+. Is this mud climbing even rateable?

Another fine bolt.

Looking down the first pitch.

Ah, Aid anchors.

Looking down the first pitch.

As I jugged the rope, I cursed when I saw the spectre since I figured I wouldn't be able to remove it since it was so welded into the "rock." To my surprise, a few gentle taps and the spectre glided out of the mud.

Me jugging pitch 2. (Photo by Noah)

Top of the second pitch ridge.

Now for my pitch, the "A1 pitch." Two placements of gear led me to a drilled pin followed by a rivet hangered bolt which both had fixed carabiners on them. I stepped up on the bolt only to find a blank wall of mud. The only placement I saw was a questionable hook move which I didn't want to make since there was nothing to clip or place above the hook. Only leprosy-like mud flakes coated the upper flanks of the wall.

I top stepped, hammered off the mud and found nothing. Noah barked at me, "There has to be a way! Don't you see that bolt?"

The bolt he was referring to was the shadows of 1 cm thick mud flakes. I refused to make the hook move as that would leave me with large fall potential on a rivet hanger. Noah reluctantly lowered me down. Pissed, Noah said, "Fine, I'll take the pitch."

He tied into the lead line and bat-manned up to the bolt. My turn, "There has to be a way, don't you see it. Don't you see that bolt? The route clearly pendulums to the right."

Noah didn't see anything either. No bolts. No rivets. The fixed carabiners became apparent that a previous party bailed. We would have to do the same. I wanted to bail, the unknown and the whole idea "A1 pitch" clearly being much harder had me worried. With some discussion, we decided to leave our fixed ropes, consult the Yoda of desert towers and then make a decision about re-bolting the bolt ladder that clearly eroded away or was ripped.

Noah confirming nothing on pitch 3.

Sunset over the upper tower.

The fear and anxiety would plague me for the next two weeks. Since I had a few extra days in Utah, Glen and I headed towards Canyonlands to climb Washer Woman. The entire drive to Washer Woman I was nervous about leading. My head had changed watching David's fall while the unknown had me gripped. I just wanted to go sport climbing on routes I had already done. Glen offered to lead the entire route but I figured the best way to clear my head was to just to take the lead.

I took the first pitch on Washer Woman and after 15 feet of leading, I felt my head was back to normal. It's amazing what good rock can do. Glen followed and remarked how sandy the pitch was. Are you kidding? That was some of the most splitter rock climbs around! I didn't even notice any of the sand.

Glen crushing pitch 3 on Washer Woman.

**************************************************************************************************************************************************

"The rock on the Gothic makes the Titan look like granite. Once again I drew the first pitch, which entailed tied-off knife blades, expanding blocks, and dirt-dagger free climbing. I hadn't nailed for a year and was pretty spooked. In the South, they'd say I was shaking like a dog shitting peach pits, but this was more like a dog passing sea urchins."

John Sherman - Sherman Exposed: Slightly Censored Climbing Stories.

**************************************************************************************************************************************************

The back of Gothic Nightmare.

Noah and I planned our return. I was on edge, nervous and knew what the start of my pitch looked like and it wasn't good. The tower was wearing on me as I just wanted the experience to be over. We desperately tried to find a third as a third makes aid climbing so much more enjoyable. No one was interested, not even for a free jug to the summit.

Fortunately, Noah was able to borrow a nice Bosch drill. I certainly wasn't excited about placing bolts on lead with a hand drill since the one bolt I have placed on lead with a hand drill completely sucked to install.

Jugging pitch 3. Drills-a-swinging.

On the drive out, Noah texted me mentioning that the drill hadn't fully charged. The last thing I wanted to do was jug a tower with gear and a drill to find out that the battery is dead. I wanted to bail and this seemed like a good excuse. Fortunately, Noah was able to drop off the drill to charge with a friend in Moab while we shuttled another load of gear to the base.

Onion Creek was becoming a dreaded approach. Since we had some extra time, we decided to bag some of the shorter easier towers along the approach. The first tower we climbed was Merrymen Tower which was actually a really unique, fun climb (if such a things exists in the Mysterys) with a small summit that masted over Onion Creek. It was nice to climb a casual 5.8 route.

Traverse on pitch 1 of Merrymen.

Summit of Merrymen.

Summit silhouette.

Also along the way, we decided to climb The Hunchback which was located 50 yards south of the start of Something Wicked This Way Comes. Somehow, we decided to try a new route up The Hunchback that appeared it might be able to be free climbed. That tower provided a less casual ascent with some cursing and some unexpected hammer aid.

We returned the following morning early to jug, haul and prepare for the next pitch. As soon as we were at the top of the 3rd pitch, the anxiety and fear hit me. I didn't want to lead the pitch. The fear of whipping on a rivet with ledge decking potential had me really scared. I thought about my family, my daughter and how it might be a real possibility that I could get seriously injured or killed on this climb.

Doubt runs deep in my head as I feel so inexperienced even with my "low" mileage in the Fishers. I don't feel prepared. I felt exactly how Sherman explains it, a shaking dog passing sea urchins. It's true, I'm a chickenshit.

About to emotionally breakdown, Noah offered encouragement along with frustration. "Who's going to climb this with me? Look at what we have done so far. It would be such a wasted effort." Ultimately, I decided to tie in and start my lead. Hell, I had a Bosch right?

I knew the first placements from two weeks ago and I quickly reached our previous high point. I purchased removable steel hangers which provided more security than rivet hangers, giving me more confidence as I stepped upward.

I conceded to the lack of gear placements and installed a bolt. At least this way, I wouldn't rip a questionable bolt and very insecure pin placement and deck. Upward, I stepped finding a thin horizontal mud-choked seam. Ah, I can place some peckers horizontally. A1 huh?

Equalizing two horizontal peckers, I stepped up finding an old bolt hole. Clearly there were bolts here. I top stepped on the peckers and drilled another bolt. As soon as I installed the next bolt, top-stepped, the old rivet ladder appeared. I proceeded upwards into the unknown.

Equalized Beaks.

Once I gained some ground, I was back in the groove of climbing although the fear ran deep down my spine. Many of the bolts were spaced so far apart that top-stepping and swinging a nut was barely enough to snag the next bolt. The first ascensionists bat hooked between bolts which is fine on new bolts that are not sticking out 1-2 inches. A regular strategy I used to keep rivets on the bolts was to tape them on the inch of metal sticking out.

Looking down half way up pitch 3.

Follow the rivets.... So obvious since they stick out.

After several very bad bolts, I decided to replace an existing bolt that stuck out over 1.5 inches with questionable climbing above the bolt. If I fell, I would certainly rip 4-5 bolts; I'm not sure that qualifies as A1 if I am potentially going to fall 30-50 feet.

Bolts that were spaced so far apart either required occasional gear placement or scary free climbing. At one point, I reached a newer bolt (2009?) that had already eroded 1 cm from the hanger. There was at least 15 feet of free climbing to reach the next bolt and then another 15 feet of free climbing to the bolt beyond that. Dirty 5.8 free climbing mantles commenced as I clawed upward to the first intermediate bolt. The next bolt was less inspiring.

Standard bolt on pitch 3.

I stepped upward to rivet the next bolt and my foot was starting to sink into the soft mud/dirt. That's odd I thought, I didn't think the mud was that soft. I was beginning to slip as my foot gave way under the mud. Clawing at anything that would keep me attached, really not wanting to whip on the previous 2 bolts, I was actually dislodging a boulder the size of a small oven.

The boulder tumbled downward leaving a dust trail similar to a comet. I somehow didn't fall off with the boulder. Echoing across the valley the boulder plummeted to the ground. Holy Shit! Did I just kill Noah?

I screamed and there was no response. Again, screaming, I finally got a response. Whew, I didn't kill my belayer. Gathering my shaking body, I stepped up and riveted the bolt that was sticking out over an inch. Just above that bolt was a small ledge. Maybe that will be the end of the pitch?

Again, I replace an existing bolt in poor condition. I step upward, placed an offset cam with the fear that the flake in which the cam was placed was going to blow. The only thing above me was a narrow ridge requiring more free climbing. Not the belay anchors as I had hoped.

As I started to straddle the knife ridge above my questionable cam, I swung my leg over the ridge but the drill didn't follow. I was about to be thrown off-balance and ripped off the ridge due to the fucking drill weighing me down. I was gripped. When will this pitch end?

Somehow, I manage not to get swiped off the ridge and find the next rivet. There is at least another 30-40 feet of climbing. My heart sinks. I rivet, make a free move and reach the final pin/bolt ladder. Mangling upward, I finally reach the belay anchors. That was one of the longest 140 foot pitches I have ever led. I breathe, fix the ropes and Noah begins his jug.

How I feel after my pitch. (Photo by Noah)

Noah jugging pitch 3.

Once Noah arrives at the anchor, we discuss our options. We have two pitches left which are supposedly easier and easier. We decide due to timing, we should bail for the day and make sure we have a full day for the remaining 150 feet of the tower. Nothing is going smoothly. At least the next day, we won't have to haul as much gear. My A1 pitch was not straightforward and the following pitch was also rated A1.

We were tantalizingly close but at least my leads were complete. 500 feet of rappelling guided us back to the ground where Noah's friend from Moab came to give us encouragement and beer. Thanks Dave!

Our final approach for the tower began before daylight. We reached the base at first light and began our 500 foot jug to the top of the 4th pitch. Ready to be finished, Noah took the final leads with fear running deep.

What Noah thinks about pitch 4.

Sunrise on the Hydra.

A bolt ladder guided Noah upwards where some of the bolts stuck out over 2 inches. Ledge potential falls, inspired Noah to replace 3 bolts on his pitch including the worst bolt on the route which stuck out 2.5 inches. How is that bolt even staying in the rock?

Noah on pitch 4.

Noah looking down on his lead on pitch 4. (Photo by Noah)

Damn, I love these things.....

Not a bad belay ledge.

Best bolt on the route! Where are the screamers?

Jugging pitch 4.

He reaches the final saddle as the summit tower looms over him and he fixes the line. I jug and reach the saddle and for the first time, I feel like we might actually reach the summit. Noah takes a limited rack and begins the free climb across the summit ridge passing a rock alien along the way. He reaches his two points of aid: a horrible drilled pin and a quarter inch bolt sticking out at least an inch.

Looking back at the belay from just past the alien. (Photo by Noah)

Stepping up on the quarter inch bolt, Noah begins to realize he's reached the "Mantle of DOOM." He curses and scratches around the surface of the rock above the bolts figuring out the best way to execute the move. Only mud, cobbles and dust shed from the surface. Finally building the courage, he makes the mantle above the bolt. Barely hanging on, he scrambles to the final anchors just below summit.

The bolt protecting the Mantle of DOOM.

With all of the crazy stuff Noah has climbed, he remarked how that mantle was one of the scariest free climbing moves he has ever made. I would have probably replaced the bolt. He scrambles to the top and realizes he has finally summited Gothic Nightmare.

The summit traverse.

Summit. Is this for real?

Noah's summit shot. (Photo by Noah)

He quickly returns to the anchor, fixes a belay line and a jugging line for my traverse and climb to the summit. I reach the anchor and make the final moves to the summit. Capped with a thin layer of Moenkopi rock the summit was only 2 feet wide and 3 feet long and perfectly flat; smaller than a coffee table. We enjoyed our time on the summit before starting my least favorite part. The descent.

Summit view looking down.

Summit shot.

Summit shot. (Photo by Noah)

Noah about to loose his S^&t.

With only a few minor problems on the rappel, we returned to the ground. My hips began to hurt after packing out full trad racks, iron racks and 4 ropes. Relieved our adventure was finished, Noah headed back to Colorado while I stayed in Utah to meet my family for some much needed easy type 1 family fun.

I was emotionally drained and had an extra � day to do something before my family arrived. To "get back on the horse," I decide to return to the Fishers and rope solo Dunce Rock. I'm not sure that was the best recovery solution although it was surprisingly casual.

A week after the climb, I'm still trying to absorb what I went through. My psyche for climbing is the lowest it has been for years. Even for easy/moderate sport climbs. I need to start over and gain a lot more experience. This climb scared me way more than Cottontail (C3) or the Rasta Wall (A3/4) on River Tower. The Citadel calls out to me but as I re-read about the stories and the routes on The Citadel, I feel exactly the way I did about reading it the first time - I'm never going to climb it. I'm humbled. Maybe someday.....

The Citadel. One bad MoFo.

Here is a link to Noah's trip report. Hang on tight.
Noah's Report.

Route Topo

Thumbnails for uploaded photos (click to open slideshow):

Comments or Questions

kaiman	Wow another Fischer towers epic! 11/11/2015 8:18pm I’m glad everyone is okay. You guys are sure gluttons for punishment Thanks for another great read.
Marmot72	Frightful fun 11/11/2015 9:31pm Scarier than Halloween – glad David is okay. Crazy, amazing stuff.
FireOnTheMountain	dang 11/12/2015 8:54am this TR is wrought with insanity. You guys nuts but at least you had a Bosch.
TomPierce	Interesting read 11/12/2015 9:48am Really interesting TR, Derek. The story spoke for itself, but really curious what drives you toward these sorts of climbs. Admirable accomplishment, I’m just always curious what motivates various climbers. Not to get too technical (but I guess I will anyway…) those bolts look like fairly modern sleeve–style bolts (Powers, the more modern Rawl sleeves?), a good choice for harder rock but not at all the type I’d pick for...solidified mud?? I would think the glue–ins would be better for such soft, crappy rock, e.g. a Petzl Baatinox with glue capsules, etc. Is there a reason prior ascenionists were using that type of bolt? Truly just curious, always wanting to learn new stuff. Again, great accomplishment and a fun read. –Tom
Winter8000m	Fun times man! 11/12/2015 12:54pm I’ll never forget this one.
Furthermore	Re: 11/12/2015 4:04pm Tom - The summits are what inspire me to climb these towers. It certainly isn’t the splitter rock quality. Being on the top of these tall towers are special; however, I’ve been enjoying the summits less and less as I dread the descents. Maybe it’s time to sport climb? As soon as I reach the top, I’m already worried about getting down as I recently have had some really bad luck on the descents. Also, I would be lying if ’The List’ wasn’t a contributing factor, sadly. As for the bolts, they appeared to be Rawl 5 piece sleeve bolts. The rock quality under the stucco and mud is actually pretty good; you just have to dig. Sleeve bolts are fine (obviously wedgies would not be) as that is what we installed. Glue–ins would be ideal but the timing for installation isn’t. Some of the other "trade" routes in the Fishers have been upgraded to glue–ins (Fantasia (I’m pretty sure) and CO NE ridge on the Kingfisher). From my understanding the FA team climbed through the night, hand drilling and installing the bolts "just good enough." They never reached the summit and the last pitch was completed by another party. Based on other ascents in the area, the bolts fall out after about 20–30 years due to erosion; I’m not sure any bolt can avoid that fate.
TomPierce	Ah, makes sense. 11/12/2015 5:30pm Thanks for the reply, interesting.
BillMiddlebrook	Very cool 11/13/2015 12:49pm Love the photos, especially the summit shot, #35!!
dhgold	Why we climb 11/16/2015 8:55pm John Long once wrote that compared to climbing an aid wall, "the rest of our life is like driving in second gear". You’ll remember this one for a long time. For my money, your best TR. Good job all around.

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Gothic Nightmare

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