DISPATCHES

Davis

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God knows, that was the motivation that brought me through the horrendous crumbling off-width corner I suffered through a few days ago (well, that and the fear of death). But the roof pitch seemed a little unlikely for free climbing, thanks to a curtain of disintegrating rock at its base, and a too-thin crack with mud walls on either side up through much of it, and it was clear that the pitches to come would be thin, thin, thin.

We should have felt pretty disappointed at the end of our all-free hopes. But as it turned out, the next two pitches were some of the most beautiful virgin thin aid dihedrals I've ever seen. Brady placed micronuts and Lost Arrows, and leapfrogged Leeper cams up the first corner, and I nailed up the second corner with peckers and toucans, stretching it out a full ropelength to end with an arcing free traverse to a tiny ledge.

Jimmy, Brady and I all agreed that those three consecutive aid pitches were some of the nicest we've ever done. So it's hard to feel too attached to our original hope of free climbing when the route is continuing to be this good. Perhaps with a power drill and a whole lot of time, those pitches could be freed.

However my final pitch yesterday took us to the "choss band" which has been my major question about this route. This band is the split between the first massive dihedral system and the final dihedral to the summit. Through the spotting scope, we never quite got a sense of the steepness or features of the thing.

Yesterday I climbed right to its base and found a somewhat blocky overhanging, featureless band of rock. It was impossible to see how it attaches to the next dihedral because it's steep. Unfortunately, we only brought three 1/4" drill bits on this route, and they all promptly broke after one or two holes for anchors and ledges. So bathooking up the choss band didn't seem completely viable.

A huge, airy pendulum to the right might reveal some hope, but it was impossible to see anything from the belay Brady and I were speculating from yesterday. Dave and Jimmy set off this morning to tackle the question, prepared to apply some creativity. As Brady and I worked on the final haul today, showers of disconcertingly large rocks came down from above. So something is going on up there!

It feels good to be sitting in the ledge, after a good day of work. The insanely hot temperatures down below have succumbed to an elevation gain and a good weather system. We've been treated to snow flakes, rain showers, and beautiful clouds that float up the wall and engulf us in white mist.

At night, the full moon dips in and out from the lacework of clouds that slowly drifts over it. We still don't know how big Tahir Tower actually is, but it's turning out to be a wonderful chunk of granite.

Yesterday Brigadier Tahir came by jeep to our Base Camp to see us climbing. We have a radio with us on the route so we can call Zahid every night to chat ("Zahid, Zahid do you read?" "Yes sir!!! Very much work, very difficult climbing, sir!! Condition of members good? Condition of rock good? Maybe too much difficulty, sir, but success, Inshallah!!" "Okay, Zahid, we're having a great time, call you tomorrow night!"), and Jimmy called down to speak with the Brigadier.

He was overwhelmed by the honor of our wanting to name the tower after him, and was thrilled to see the tiny yellow specks of our ledges, sporting the green and white Pakistani flag the army officers gave us. He wished us much success and watched us through the scope, along with the daily crowd of locals, for a couple hours.

These moments, tacked to the side of a granite wall in a glorified nylon army cot, are some of the most peaceful and happy times a climber could ask for. My hands are a wreck, swollen and covered in scabs and black aluminum deposit. The tendinitis in my wrists is acting up from day after day of jugging and hauling, making my fingers wooden and numb when I wake up in the morning. The muscles in my back are weary and sore, and there seems to be some permanent sand and dirt in my eyes that never quite comes out.

But being up here is so incredibly satisfying that I love all of it. We have all of the essentials for eating, sleeping and climbing. Our motion is simple — up or down. We feel excited, afraid, tired or happy, but never bored. Our goal is clear and beautiful.

At moments in the last few days, I've felt like I was living on the side of El Cap, until I glanced down and saw the specks of villagers walking up the road with great bundles of grass and twigs on their backs. Right now we are the luckiest climbers in the world.

— Steph Davis, MountainZone.com Correspondent

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