GUNDELBERG RETURNS TO THE TWIN SISTERS

North Twin, west ridge

Back in the day, JG/BK (Bob Keller) offered a mountaineering class to students at Fairhaven College.  It was more like an introduction to the Zen of High and Remote places because – in addition to practical stuff like how to tie into a rope or use an ice ax - he endeavored to fill their youthful souls with a profound, almost mystical oneness with nature, as manifested in high and forbidding chunks of rock.  Desperate as I was for climbing opportunities, I volunteered to help him teach the course. 

My contributions were almost totally “in the field”, so to speak; I helped the students avoid disaster, and – if ropes were required – I led one,  I gave a lecture on mountain geology once , but the students were so smart-assed (as Fairhaven students tended to be back then) that I never did it again.  Funny how self-confident kids can be in a lecture hall, but how humble they are when you and a 3/8 inch rope are all that stands between them and death!

Anyway, the penultimate field excursion of Bob’s Mountain Zen course was an ascent of the North Twin (the shorter but much more challenging of the two peaks that give the range its name).  This was a rock climb that, in places, warranted the use of ropes.  Such was the extent of Bob’s charisma amongst Fairhaven students that, in the year I describe, we had far too many students for the two of us to properly supervise.  Consequently, Bob recruited a local dentist/climber to help, as well as several experienced Fairhaven students.  On the day of the climb Bob divided the students into two groups.  One group, consisting of the more able kids, were sent with the student volunteers to climb the South Twin, which is higher but easier.  That group made the summit, probably smoked some weed, then skipped back down the mountain and was home for dinner.

The less able group stayed with the dentist, Bob and me for an assault on the North Twin.

Why, you ask, were the weaker “climbers” consigned to the more difficult ascent?  Frankly, I have no idea.   Maybe our laggards were supposed to derive some psychic benefit from conquering their fears – and a not-inconsiderable mountain.  Or maybe Bob wanted to see if he could shepherd these unlikely souls to the top.  I should have asked at the time but I didn’t, and now it is too late.

Well, we didn’t summit.  The route we used, the West Ridge, starts out as an easy traipse through the trees.  However, the way narrows steadily as you ascend, the trees disappear, and eventually you are dealing with a ridge a yard or two wide, consisting of solid rock.  That in itself is not so fearsome, but on one side the ridge drops off as a near cliff several hundred feet. high, and on the other there is a very steep snow slope at least 2000 ft. long, with big rocks at the bottom.  In mountain-speak, the ridge is “exposed” .

If you are used to exposure it doesn’t slow you down – other than perhaps to augment your caution a bit – but if you are not prepared for it you may be stopped in your tracks.  That, of course, is what happened to our pitiful flock.  Our upward progress slowed, then slowed even more, and it soon became apparent that time was running out.  Nevertheless we went on, certainly far too long – and finally, by the time we tossed in the towel the sun was about to set.

Well, the dentist – who was thoroughly disgusted by this time - herded the more able kids down off the mountain.  Presumably that got home in time for a late supper.  I don’t know; I never saw that guy again.

And that left Bob and me, with two terrified, almost hysterical, young ladies.  I talked to one of them, explaining how difficult it would be to fall off of a sidewalk two meters wide, but that didn’t help.  Finally, I tied her into a short rope (maybe 3 meters long), got behind her, and urged her to start down.  But she couldn’t move!  It transpired that she could move only if I was directly in front of her.  That, of course, is not where you want to be for belaying purposes, but no matter – if she couldn’t see me she couldn’t descend so much as an inch. 

So that’s how it was.  For what seemed like ten hours we crept down what seemed like five miles of rough rock ridge.  Did I mention that the poor young woman used a five-point climbing technique on that decent, exclusively?  The result of this technique was to abrade a large hole in her jeans.  And for the entire time I was positioning directly below her, looking up at her, encouraging her descent.  Thank God for substantial panties!

And, of course, Keller experienced much the same situation with the other poor girl.

We hit the parking lot about midnight, minutes before the (totally disgusted) cops arrived.  I clammed up, pointing at JG if asked anything at all.  The two young women were too given over to hysteria to talk.  Eventually, we arrived home – early for breakfast!

And if those two women ever – ever – in their lives went near another mountain, I would be greatly surprised.