That awkward moment Boone Speed Killed a Rattlesnake While Belaying Me on My First 5.11

No point to this. Just some Wednesday nostalgia.

A hundred years ago, Boone Speed and I were students at BYU. I had already been climbing a hundred years before that, and had a number of big walls and trad seasons under my belt. Sport climbing didn’t exist yet, or was in its infancy.

In a matter of months, probably weeks, Boone’s natural talent pulled him even with our circle of climbing friends. We weren’t steady partners, but we often roped up in Provo’s Rock Canyon or made the 45 minute roll up I-15 to Little Cottonwood Canyon.

One 100 degree day on the Wasatch Front, we waited for late afternoon cooling and aimed for Little Cottonwood, where I nervously aspired to eke up Tick Fever, one of my first 5.11s. It’s a steep, reasonably straight forward hand crack, well matched to my brawny, not very brainy style of a former high school wrestler.

I climbed over the lower ramps and launched into the steep jamming. (I’m writing from memory about 30 years later, without checking the route description, so deviations from accuracy are real, inside my head, where it counts).

Chugging upward, and feeling good about the less than maximal effort I was having to make, I heard Boone muttering something harsh under his breath, and noticed some weird wiggles in the rope. I looked down to see Boone scooted up closer to the rock, holding the belay with one hand, and throwing a big rock at…a rattlesnake that was undulating straight toward him.

Oh my. This was a new hazard. I backed down a move to a semi stance, set my hands as a couple of A-2 belay anchors, and waited. I don’t remember if Boone tied me off or wrapped the rope around his leg, but I recall him spending at least a few minutes finding rocks big enough for Old Testament stoning, and launching them at the still advancing viper.

One of the rocks made a soft thud instead of the sharp crack of rock-on-rock, and it seemed he had hit the mark. Then one more. The snake turned and slithered in a different direction, going out of sight under a bush.

I unset my bio-anchors, shook out, and turned up the crack, still pleased at the unexpectedly comfortable climbing. The angle eased off a little, and the crack ended. Just a little odd but easy smearing up some grooves to the finish. But it wasn’t easy. It was awkward and insecure. My confidence and relief quickly morphed to fear then desperation, and suddenly I took a 20’ flight the wrong direction.

Turns out the “easy” finish is really the crux of Tick Fever, and the crack is just some very nice 9 and 10 jamming to get to a dicey, facey finish. I oozed terror and almost flew again, but trembled my way to the top.

I almost always tied in with a double figure eight, but for whatever reason that day had used the bowline and something or other. After Boone came up with offensive ease, we spent 20 minutes trying to soften and untie the rock my knot had become on impact. On the way down, we checked on our friend, still under the bush, his reptilian soul departed to the great den in the sky.

I scooped him into a mostly empty chalk bag, intending to find out if he really does taste like chicken. He hibernated several months in our freezer, before I lost interest and disposed of the body.

Enjoyed the story, thanks!

I'm sure your wife was just super-excited about that freezer addition.
Reminds me of KungFu Hanson in the Wood

Shawn Mitchell wrote:No point to this. Just some Wednesday nostalgia. A hundred years ago, Boone Speed and I were students at BYU. I had already been climbing a hundred years before that, and had a number of big walls and trad seasons under my belt. Sport climbing didn’t exist yet, or was in its infancy. In a matter of months, probably weeks, Boone’s natural talent pulled him even with our circle of climbing friends. We weren’t steady partners, but we often roped up in Provo’s Rock Canyon or made the 45 minute roll up I-15 to Little Cottonwood Canyon. One 100 degree day on the Wasatch Front, we waited for late afternoon cooling and aimed for Little Cottonwood, where I nervously aspired to eke up Tick Fever, one of my first 5.11s. It’s a steep, reasonably straight forward hand crack, well matched to my brawny, not very brainy style of a former high school wrestler. I climbed over the lower ramps and launched into the steep jamming. (I’m writing from memory about 30 years later, without checking the route description, so deviations from accuracy are real, inside my head, where it counts). Chugging upward, and feeling good about the less than maximal effort I was having to make, I heard Boone muttering something harsh under his breath, and noticed some weird wiggles in the rope. I looked down to see Boone scooted up closer to the rock, holding the belay with one hand, and throwing a big rock at…a rattlesnake that was undulating straight toward him. Oh my. This was a new hazard. I backed down a move to a semi stance, set my hands as a couple of A-2 belay anchors, and waited. I don’t remember if Boone tied me off or wrapped the rope around his leg, but I recall him spending at least a few minutes finding rocks big enough for Old Testament stoning, and launching them at the still advancing viper. One of the rocks made a soft thud instead of the sharp crack of rock-on-rock, and it seemed he had hit the mark. Then one more. The snake turned and slithered in a different direction, going out of sight under a bush. I unset my bio-anchors, shook out, and turned up the crack, still pleased at the unexpectedly comfortable climbing. The angle eased off a little, and the crack ended. Just a little odd but easy smearing up some grooves to the finish. But it wasn’t easy. It was awkward and insecure. My confidence and relief quickly morphed to fear then desperation, and suddenly I took a 20’ flight the wrong direction. Turns out the “easy” finish is really the crux of Tick Fever, and the crack is just some very nice 9 and 10 jamming to get to a dicey, facey finish. I oozed terror and almost flew again, but trembled my way to the top. I almost always tied in with a double figure eight, but for whatever reason that day had used the bowline and something or other. After Boone came up with offensive ease, we spent 20 minutes trying to soften and untie the rock my knot had become on impact. On the way down, we checked on our friend, still under the bush, his reptilian soul departed to the great den in the sky. I scooped him into a mostly empty chalk bag, intending to find out if he really does taste like chicken. He hibernated several months in our freezer, before I lost interest and disposed of the body.

I wish stuff like this happened on the forum more often.

Nice Shawn!

lol, nice story and hats off for admitting you went to BYU! I never knew this about Boone for some reason. I've never climbed anywhere that has more rattlers than LCC and BCC, the approaches seem to be crawling with them.

With Rock Canyon within walking distance, BYU has got to be in the top 10 climbing universities in the country

Ahhhhhh the Wood!

Awesome. Write more :)

I remember this story from back in the day in Utah County, I always thought it was just legend.

+1 on the prevalence of rattlers in LCC and Bell Cyn. I see less now that I live in the desert.

Thanks for the kind comments.

Yeah, Buff. Yvette wasn't excited about that. But now she has to put up with frozen rats when my boa constrictor doesn't eat his dinner.

Hi, Greg D. We gotta climb some time.

I'd like to write more, 5.samadhi. But, not many of my climbing memories involve a world class climber in a death match with a venomous snake. :)

Chris, that's kinda fun to hear it became a local story.

finally an interesting post!

Ouch, man. I think you're judging me by Facebook. I have some non-fevered posts on MP. :)

Shawn Mitchell wrote:Ouch, man. I think you're judging me by Facebook. I have some non-fevered posts on MP. :)

Fun story! The main crack is pretty burly, too.

Darren Mabe wrote: no i meant an interesting post in general on MP by anyone.

Buff Johnson wrote: You mean my radar data analysis showing flight 370 crash landing on the devil's tower wasn't good enough?? sunova

Ha! Thanks, Darren. I still hope to get to Arizona for some awesome tows sometime.

Buff, Flight 370 never existed. :)

Hey MJMobes, interestingly, that was the only rattler I ever saw in LCC.I've seen a lot more in Clear Creek Canyon in Golden. And I bet BYU is in the top 5 in climbing universities.

Shawn Mitchell wrote: A hundred years ago, Boone Speed and I were students at BYU. I had already been climbing a hundred years before that, and had a number of big walls and trad seasons under my belt.

I just try to stay fit and take care of myself, rging. 51 is a lie. I look pretty good for 200, right?

I didn't start climbing until I hit 50. The advantage of this is every climb feels like a first ascent with my memory.