Shade at 1:00PM in mid July. Wait for shade! The sun is a deadly laser.
Rack:
-offset nuts.
-2x 0.1 - 0.5 (with offset cams to 0.3/0.4, they fit everywhere. C3s/Totems are also really nice for the pinscars)
-1x 0.75, 1, 3 (no #2 needed).
-14 draws or so, half of which should be slings.
As you've probably already read elsewhere, the route eases off significantly after the fourth pitch. Hauling supposedly sucks, and would certainly be less fun. I'm curious as to what other free parties have done, but Drew and I lowered our bag from above the Lithuanian Lip as low as possible and then dropped the bag and tag line. We then carried onward with some water, layers, and approach shoes clipped to our harnesses. Hiking back up to the base at the end of the day isn't the end of the world, and is still probably faster than hauling would be. We were very lucky (and grateful) to have some new friends, Shelby and Adria, climbing Thin Red Line. They portered out our tag line and bag. We offered wine and snacks but ultimately it was out of the goodness of their hearts.
You could do what we did (though ensure you have the right snacks to bribe fellow climbers), but we think it'd be best to forego the tagline and just lower loops to haul the short crux pitches.
***
My friend Drew Marshall and I spent the last two days (July 19 and 20) climbing in Washington Pass (also known as The WAP). We set our sights on Liberty Crack, a classic aid route on the east face of Liberty Bell that is now firmly established as a freeclimb. With the promise of an afternoon start and a mysterious roof crux nicknamed the 'Lithuanian Lip', we were psyched.
Our strategy was to spend one afternoon working crux pitches 2 and 3, and then hopefully be prepared for a redpoint attempt the following day. It was a lovely weekend. We ran into some friends at the parking lot, met new friends, enjoyed leisurely mornings, and spent two awesome afternoons on that sweet, sweet WAP granite (granite pockets, what the fuck?!).
The Lithuanian Lip (pitch 2) is the first crux, and the hardest pitch on the route. As of July 2023, it is almost entirely on a mishmash of fixed gear (3 or so cams are needed above the lip). Being a roof and notoriously difficult for taller folk I envisioned scrunchy undercling. This was not the case, and I was pleasantly surprised to find the crux to be almost entirely on pinscars. Pinkie down, baby! I was glad we had given ourselves a day to work the moves, and I thoroughly enjoyed the session. Drew and I both found the difficulties to be getting into an undercling fingerlock in the roof, and then the classic crux establishing over the lip is just straight up hard.
We then turned our attention to the third pitch, a slab variation to the aid route's bolt ladder (which supposedly went free back in the day. Hell yeah, Brooke Sandahl!). I'm not much of a slab climber, but Drew Marshall and our friend Jacob Cook are, dare I say, on top of the slab game. Slab savants. Slab royalty. Baptists of friction. Crystal whisperers. You get the point.
Lately, instead of swearing when I fall and am frustrated I just silently give the route two middle fingers. I did a lot of that on my first go, but learned a lot, and had fun better understanding what a 'good' foothold truly is. Drew kindly assured me that it was "actually pretty hard" but sorted out the moves pretty quick. Feeling content and excited to try to redpoint the next day, we descended at a leisurely time and enjoyed dinner and friendship at the Blue Lake Trailhead.
Day 2 went strangely according to plan. It was awesome (and strange) to be hiking up to such a big objective at 12:30PM after a chill morning in town. I knew that doing the Lip pitch first try was probably crucial to continuing upward. It was a physical pitch, and I could see it getting harder and harder if attempts piled up.
I executed this plan, though it was quite a fight! After getting established above the lip, I shoved a cam in the pod and entered a 5.12- exit sequence. It felt hard! Way harder than the day prior! I was too pumped and sweaty to stop and place a piece and committed to a final highstep that would see me through to the chains. By the skin of my teeth, I clipped the anchors and let out an excited cry. It was on! Drew had an excellent go, and couldn't quite figure out getting his feet above the lip. It was especially scrunchy for him; height is certainly a factor on this pitch.
The slab pitch made me much more nervous than the Lip. After teetering across a traverse and up some small footholds, I lost track of my sequence and slipped off on my first go. I re-sorted my sequence and then lowered to the anchor to rest. Drew had a working go as well, and it appeared to be teed up for both of us. Again, I certainly did not enter any sort of flow state but managed to squeak out the pitch. Drew reminded me of my beta as I climbed, and I tried to block out any sort of negative thinking about the holds slipping. I have no idea how hard this pitch is, but I was very pleased with the lessons it taught me in footwork and belief. My friends Connor and Amity sent us their beta notes, which included something about "floating leftward" at the end of this pitch. While I can imagine floating this pitch, I felt like I more so resembled my Corgi when she was learning how to swim: she'd start out great, and then sort of tip over, but ultimately not drown.
"Yeah, I love easy slab climbing" -Drew Marshall, tongue-in-cheek, after I professed that the pitch may have been the hardest slab climb of my life. He, of course, fired it.
It was strange to be actually sending. One 11+ is all that stood in the way. Beforehand, we did some hilarious shenanigans to rid ourselves of our haul bag and tagline. The tag didn't quite make it to the ground, but it was close enough. Drew dropped it and the bag flew to the ground. It was awesome.
Drew sent the 11+ pitch on his second go, and I seconded the pitch cleanly. Be sure to keep your performance shoes on for this pitch, it is hard! After this pitch, the route changes significantly to long, moderate pitches on mostly good rock. It felt like climbing two routes in one. After I led up an easy 5.10 crack, Drew put on his guide's hat and set the tone, linking the next two pitches with a bit of simulclimbing. We carried on to the summit, moving to the rhythm of long pitches and a waning evening. It was sweaty, we were tired, and it was delightful. Calm evenings in the mountains hold such a fleeting sense of tranquility. I'm glad I was reminded of this, and how light it makes me feel. Drew and I summitted just as the sun began to drop below the mountains.
I will probably forget the crux sequences over time, but I don't think I'll forget the summit sunset, or listening to Claire De Lune in the middle of the night as we descended back to the car. I'm realizing, more and more, that these inspiring objectives are just waypoints to orient my life. This was a really good one in the middle of a busy summer.
