I love Murrin Park. Seven years ago, eighteen and invincible (read: dumb) I did my first 5.12 trad route here, The Oracle. It was the first time I rehearsed a semi-dangerous route on top rope, and I fell in love with that style. It was also desperate and a big deal for me. The year after I did the 5.12b classic The Masses Are Asses, jumping the gun on starting to lead it in order to keep up with my stronger friends, and nearly peeling off while placing a crucial RP. Then it was its neighbour, Coitus Interruptus, then Flight of the Challenger. All with distinct technical lessons and memories with friends.
Chris and I started trying The Gunslinger two years ago, around the time I finished my journey on the Cobra Crack. I was looking for a new project, but mostly I think Chris and I needed an activity to do together. We had recently reconciled after a falling out, and had barely spoken in two years. The Gunslinger was right up both of our alleys (lots of top-roping, close to the car, hard for us, scary, technical). I met Chris just up the hill, back at The Oracle when I was eighteen. He was there when I did Masses. I guess it just made sense to be at Murrin.
And boy, were we at Murrin a lot; a few times a week when it was cool enough over the last few summers (and sometimes when it was too hot—we even rigged a fan to blow on the route once, which I think, along with the rest of our horrible ethics—a kneepad, velcroing cams, headpointing—appalled Jim Herson, alas, fair enough). I’m not sure how many sessions we put into it, but a lot. A lot. It wasn’t always just us. My girlfriend did Masses, just down the hill, which was nice. But she sent quite fast and then it was back to just being Chris and I and the odd friend we could convince. Our friend Connor also joined us, but only for like, four or five days before he sent. Connor is a tank, so we were just glad to have him for that long.
The gear at Murrin is really strange. Sometimes seemingly bomber gear in the glacier-polished rock slips out. The Gunslinger felt like a step-up in learning how to make spicy trad-climbs safer. For example, there’s a #2 in the middle of the route that the previous (much stronger) ascensionists used—when we tested it on top rope, sometimes it would hold, and sometimes it wouldn’t. Instead, I ended up finding this really strange large offset nut. It looked horrible and was fickle, but it was bomber. How do we know? We threw a haul bag full of rocks onto it from the top of the cliff (with another haul bag on belay) and it held! I also found a way to place a quite good 0.2/0.3 cam in the upper headwall, which in theory takes the edge off. It is good, but again, fickle to place: I watched the piece rip on Connor before his redpoint (and safely land on the nut), a reminder to make sure I got it right.
Things came together slowly, and while I was quite close a few times last season, the air was kind of taken out of our sails after our friend David Tan died. We tried anyway, but we were both distracted with the sudden impact of grief. Then I had to leave for school.
This year, our sessions were almost entirely after work and I found it difficult to find flow as my mind was often frazzled. I sent on top-rope on my first try, which was promising, but placing the gear really adds an element. It took a few sessions to get that specific fitness and have my head screwed on tight to start leading again. I also had to meditate with the fact that I might not find flow, I might be pumped and scared at the top, and that was okay. Well, that ended up being the case. When I did it last night, I was pumped and slightly distracted at the top, but also intentionally one or two percent more committed than on previous tries. I squeaked it out and screamed at the top like I never have. Relief. Fear. Excitement. I guess all that energy has to go somewhere.
I am forever intrigued with the idea that routes serve as static backgrounds to dynamic lives. These lines, in that way, become public places that hold different meaning and memory for every person that interacted with them: a restaurant might be where you got engaged, where another person heard the worst news of their life, and where another person had a non-memorable meal. My ascent of The Gunslinger is the fifth, I think. It isn’t my story to tell, but my understanding of the first free ascent is that there was conflict about whose first free ascent it was to do. I guess I think it's interesting that this chapter of The Gunslinger was the opposite, and originally had very little to do with the prize of redpointing and was more about reconciliation between two old friends. At the end of the day though, Chris and I are fiends for this stuff (top-roping, we’re fiends for top-roping) and while we could’ve just gone fishing, we went climbing. I’m glad that my perception of friendship has evolved beyond needing to include some kind of climbing partnership, but I also don’t think there’s anyone I’d rather have holding my rope on a route like that besides Chris. I hope I get to hold the rope for his imminent redpoint!
Thanks to everyone that was a part of this process, and to Unparallel Canada for the many shoes.
Nerdy Details and SPRAY:
The Gunslinger break down as such:
An opening V3 or so that you protect with a crash pad
A short section of 12c or so that is probably the most dangerous part of the route. There’s a fixed nut here. I left a quickdraw on it so I could clip it a little lower. I’ve hung the draw as well, but I wanted the draw there, so I left it. There are many ways to improve my style, and that’s ok.
Next is a V8/9 traversing boulder on underclings and interesting directional feet, with good small gear. This was a low percentage boulder for me right until the end.
The boulder deposits you at a kneebar rest that I don’t find very restful. You plug in a nest here. In the end it was an Orange Totem and a Black Totem and they’re bomber—a large offset nut is also an option here.
After some setup moves is another crux involving underclings, a far left foot, and a very tensioned reach into a finger lock. It remains on you and becomes a crimp layback sequence to get out of the finger lock. The 0.2/0.3 goes here. Getting out of the finger lock is just as hard as getting into it and involves a choose-your-own adventure layback on shitty sidepulls. I think this section is also V8 or so.
This deposits you at another “rest” where you can stop and place a small piece. If you don’t place the 0.2/0.3, it’s pretty mandatory to put a small cam or nut here or risk a ground fall. The last few moves to the ledge are probably V3 or so—pretty hard with a pump, at least for me!
