TopRope.com: Sojurns: El Portrero Chico: Crescent Moon Butress

A Cadillac Route

By Suzanne Bakhtiari

This year we observed the Johnson family tradition of Thanksgiving in Mexico once again. Greg Coleman made in from Cali (despite a 7 and a half hour delay) and Bjorn Hovd drove in from Houston leaving behind his fabulous wife (we missed you Liefen) and all the goodies she tends to travel with.

Greg had never climbed multi-pitch and Bjorn's experience included all of the first three pitches of Space Boyz last Thanksgiving. Paul decided that since he had a pretty scared team to climb with he'd "take it easy on us" the first day. We'd warm up with a "cadillac route" that he and Dave climbed in March: The Crescent Moon Buttress.

A word of advice: If Paul ever tells you that he's going to take you on a "cadillac route" be afraid.

The route was bolted by the infamous Dane Bass. A man whose voice is recognizable from 1,200 feet up. A man we've run into in Wyoming, Oklahoma and Mexico on the most random occasions. A man who jams to the Low Fidelity Allstars at 7 in the morning with a strong drink in on hand and an, ahem, cigarette in the other. Hešs a riot and has taken us to eat the best pollo asado in Hidalgo. But as far as this route is concerned, I wonder about him. I would just about rather down climb the entire 5 pitches than take the rappel descent he bolted at the end of the route.

The first pitch was a breeze and even a lot of fun. The second was good. Then somewhere along the line we hit some 5.10 and I couldn't figure out what we were doing there. Bjorn shredded his fingertips off and Greg about severed his leg. Bjorn told me that this would probably be his last climb ever. The end of his climbing career. And to think we were hoping to put this man on lead before the trip was over.

I ended up being the last one up every pitch. Greg and Bjorn didn't want to be last and I had done enough leading after that first pitch. What would we do without our fearless leader PAUL!? I'm pretty sure I won't climb in a team of four again. It's lonely when you're always last. And too scared to lead.

The climb may have been better had it not been our first day warm up. Four hours of sleep the night before and a minimal breakfast of Clif bars and black coffee didn't help either. The rappel, the last impression, was the worst. I was forced to climb over the edge without any footholds and sixty meters of rope weight pulling on me and pulling me into the wall. I knew for a fact that I would slam into the wall because I watched my entire team face this. What they had that I didn't was someone to talk them through it. I saw the emotions, the tears (yes, I saw tears) and flat out fear on each face.

I looked over to the next ledge and saw five HUGE goats looking over the ledge at me. Making silly noises and flapping their huge ears. They were so cute. Sent from heaven to make me feel less lonely (even thought I've heard goats go to hell but I don't know why because they seem like the sweetest and I love them so I hope those five DO NOT go to hell). I was scared and about to cry (but I didn't) and I asked Paul to be ready to grab the break so he grabbed but I was NOT ready so I screamed bloody murder and he let go and I finally edged myself off and into the coolest rappel ever. (But that doesnšt make it any better).

By the time I got down it was dark. It was night. There was no trail and a never stopping chute of rocks and sharp plants pouring down around us. And we only had two headlamps to share among the four of us. An ideal situation? No. I ripped a hole in jeans, cut my bottom where the hole was, cut my hand and fell in a bunch of unfriendly vegetation. Sliding down the trail was about as hard as getting up the climb but in a fun in and obnoxious kind of way.

We ate a stack of beef sheets that night (everyone except for Greg because he only eats beans and rice and flaming cheese if the meat isn't visible and tortillas) and drank enough Manzanitas to keep us quenched through the rest of the week. We slept well and then climbed harder the rest of the week. Six pitches of the Clipper felt like cake walk. Leading the first Spire pitch was a breeze (until the runout where I got so scared I stood there for like 20 minutes asking Scott Isgitt just how good that next move really was. And was he SURE sure? And was he SUPER sure?).

Bjorn's climbing career didn't end. He went on to climb more and even led his first route. Greg was leading 11's and was a total rockstar the rest of the trip. Speaking of trip, we hooked up with Trip Lucas and Kevin Underhill for the second half of the trip so Paul finally got to send Stairway to Nowhere again with Kevin and I got on that Spire again and learned to simul-rap later.

Another successful trip to the Potrero and back. Cadillac Route and all.