M A G A N E - Desert Magazine of the Southwest

little like standing inside an enormous
box with three sides, the floor of the
box sliding off into nothingness.
Up one wall of the box I "climbed on
steel," as there was nothing much to step
on, or hold to, except the pitons projecting
an inch or so from the rock. This
"direct aid" is the second use of pitons.
I was perfectly safe with John's belay above
me. The rock climber is not thrilled
by the danger of his situation but, paradoxically
by its safety. In the exposure
and physical effort lay a throbbing excitement.
Spread-eagled awkwardly over
:he piton ladder, I struggled upward, and
:hen swung my right leg over the thin
narrow jut of rock that curved out over
the valley like a rhinoceros horn. Astride
it, I could relax as if in a dining
room chair, but I had to stand up, rising
by inches with the utmost caution so as
not to upset my balance. A toe pointed
downward on either side of the horn, and
before me bulged another wall of rock.
When I was finally upright, I could just
reach my hands over the top of the wall,
which was crowned with some flat knobs.
Belt Buckle too Thick
I slid inchingly along to my left, my
feet on a ledge actually wide enough to
stand on except for the inconvenient fact
that the bulk of rock at my chest pushed
me out and out till only my toes could
remain on the ledge — even when I
wished I had turned my belt around to
eliminate the extra thickness of the buckle.
Just as I was sure I would be pushed
over backwards, my fingers closed over
a large angular hold above, my left elbow
slid firmly into a crack, and I drew myself
over the wall of rock to the flat spot
where John was belaying me. There were
only easy pitches above. In three hours of
alternate climbing and belaying, we had
made Traitor Horn.
We then had the choice of climbing
down, which is harder than climbing up,
or of roping down, a method of descent
which looks hazardous but is easy and
efficient. In the rope-down, or "rappel"
as the French have it, the doubled rope
is passed around a tree, a projection of
rock, or through a sling of rope tied into
a piton. The climber then literally walks
backwards off, and down, the cliff, with
the rope passed about his body in such
fashion as to provide friction enough so
he can slide down it under complete control.
On reaching a ledge most conveniently
near the end of the rope, the
climbers pull the doubled rope down
after them and repeat the process. A
leather patch across the thigh prevents
rope burn.
Once the technique of climbing is
learned and practiced, all the rocks of
the world open before one as potentially
climbable. There is a kinship of greatness,
of strength, of impregnability, among
all mountains, whether of the desert
or of the high snow country. Indeed,
Bill Rice, one oj the ace climbers oj the Sierra club, roping down an overhanging
jace at Stony point.
the desert and the high mountains have
the same stark bareness and complete
simplicity. A desert lover can understand
the beauty of that Fourth of July night
on the east face of 12,963-foot Mt. Banner
in the High Sierra.
The ancient black volcanic needles of
the Minarets hung in jags between blue
sky, and snow and glaciers at their base.
John and I tramped up over heather and
brooks—we were where the brooks were
born, where they burst singing and clean
from the glacier's edge and rush through
the grass, combing it flat; over angular
talus; over snow. At the deep red chimney
that led out onto the east buttress,
we roped together; and swiftly we climb-
ed, pitch after pitch, higher and higher,
over the square steep blocks of rock. The
High Sierra dropped and widened beneath
us: island-dotted, meandering lakes
above timberline; the boiling clouds,
their opalescent light as solid as substance;
the tapestry-colored desert of
Owens valley, across which lay greenblue
Mono lake and its purple-black craters;
everywhere the peaks of the Sierra
tossed up like waves of the sea, more and
more, farther and farther, blue and purple,
violet and grey, ever changing in the
light.
The afternoon hastened by, and grew
sharply cold as the sun left the thin high
air of 12,000 feet elevation. When it be-
AUGUST, 1940 11