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TR: Southern Trad - The Great Arch

Original Post
Pepe · · Raleigh, North Carolina · Joined Nov 2010 · Points: 25

I enjoy writing almost as much as I enjoy climbing and while I don't claim to be exceptional at either, I have one hell of a good time doing both. So, it's my sincere hope that you'll have a good time reading this.

7 AM, Monday, November 7th. After hitting the snooze button several times I almost felt rested. Earlier that week I had lured my buddy Tom into climbing The Great Arch on promise of great scenery, great pro and 4 pitches of great climbing. Now I was examining the contents of my fridge, packing gear and reading the guide book over and over.

Neither of us had been to Stone but we were both well steeped in the stories and warnings so often exchanged in hushed whispers whenever the topic of slab arose. Particularly pervasive was the mantra "friends don’t let friends climb slab." A nervous anticipation joined me for breakfast.

Located north east of Boone near the Virginia border, Stone Mountain is a beautiful white dome of exposed granite rising nearly 183 meters above the valley around and below it. Since the rock is less than vertical but has few features to hold with your hands, climbers rely on strong calves and sticky rubber to friction up the face.

The South Face

By 7:45 AM, Tom and I had piled ourselves and the gear - one 60m rope, an assortment of Camalots and Friends from .5 through 3, a few big hexes, trad draws, lockers and a handful of 120cm slings - into the car where we’d spend the next 3 hours.

The Great Arch is a classic, 3 pitch, North Carolina moderate. Unlike any other route at Stone, its backbone is formed by a continuous dihedral that arches rightward in a smooth gray band. This incredible feature has a finger to fist sized crack that crawls along it, providing great gear and solid holds to the top.

After a sketchy stop for water, chips, beef & cheese sticks and a 'bathroom,' we started the hike in. Cool and fragrant trails brought us to the Hutchinson homestead, a row of aging, hand-hewn, log cabins in the meadow directly below the south face. From the homestead we got our first real view of the mountain: it was magnificent as only nature can be.

We spied our line, the spine of that prominent dihedral snaking its way toward the cloudless, Carolina blue, sky, and took in the grandeur of the whole thing. "This," I said to Tom, "may be the most beautiful place we’ve ever climbed." He agreed. We had the mountain to ourselves.

Following our hungry eyes we scrambled up to the base. While The Great Arch is, technically, a 3 pitch climb, this count presumes starting at the 'tree ledge,' a large feature just over 30 meters above the base of the mountain. Accessing the tree ledge necessitates climbing an approach pitch, like U Slot.

After a quick game of Rock, Paper, Scissors, scissors won and the first pitch was my prize. Having never climbed slab before, U Slot was a very heady lead and, without a doubt, the most intimidating part of the day for me. The beginning of the route is well protected by a large crack but, as I soon learned, the crack runs out taking the gear along with it. For the next 12 meters there is no gear and no bolts, only nerves. As I slowly committed myself to the route, step after careful step, I thought "man, I am not having fun."

At last I saw the U Slot and below it the perfect place for a C2 but I wasn’t there yet. I was standing 4 meters below with better holds 1 meter up and 1 meter left.

I stared at the short traverse I’d have to make: just one step over and then up. Yet in that step there was only smooth granite at my feet and the shallow dish of a sloper for my hands. Make this move and the crack above is yours, blow it and it’s a 25 meter tumbling fall.

Down The Great Arch / Courtesy of Peter J. Neame

I reached into the sloper and stepped my right foot over. So far so good. Grabbing onto the dish with my left hand, I slowly moved my weight onto my right foot, swinging my left into place behind it. As I finished this move something felt off and in an instant both of my feet slipped from the crystals they were pushed into and began scraping down the steep face. I squeezed the sloper with both hands, muscling for balance and lifting my feet back onto the wall with open palms. Teetering on the edge of the moment, my left foot found a hold and stuck. I reached up and stepped through with my right foot, lifting myself into place just below the crack in one smooth push. I’d made it.

A few cautious feet, and much better hands, later I placed the C2 and high-stepped the awkward roof...but, after just a meter or two, there was another problem: I’d not extended my last placement and the roof I’d just climbed had a vice like grip on the rope. Once again I’d put myself in a tough spot. Was it the rope drag or my mind that made it feel as though I was being pulled from my holds? I paused and considered my options.

Above, after 6 more meters of gradual slab were the anchors. I had a good piece below but the step down to it would be tedious. Frustrated with my oversight, I began pulling up rope and tossing it over my shoulder in bights; step up a few meters and repeat. Tom payed as fast as he could. It was then I realized I’d opened a finger somehow. The harder I gripped and pulled the rope, the more blood seeped through my hand. We repeated this fools dance until, at last, I’d clipped the anchors. A smile played across my face as I wiped blood off onto my shorts.

As I brought Tom up I could see the start of The Great Arch clearly and, looking back at the ground I had just covered, revised my earlier statement "I am having a great time." The weather, like my spirits, was excellent.

Tom's lead was up next and, to be honest, I was relieved that this pitch was his: it looked steeper than I had imagined. We sorted the gear and discussed bail strategies should we decide we'd gotten in over our heads. Tom placed a hand in the crack, a hand on the wall and stepped up. He moved slowly around the odd crack, wedging a foot and pressing his knee against the rock as he searched for pro. The feeling wasn't right. He came back down.

We reassessed the line, talked about placements and cooled off. "If you want to bail," I said, "I'm not embarrassed to say that we're in over our heads." "But," I added, "I'd be glad to take a stab at this pitch, too." Tom paused, silent. A flock of buzzards circled overhead hoping, assuredly, for a quick lunch. Tom looked at me and was off again. This time he flew up the crack, using more of the face and letting friction hold him. He plugged a cam and then another, cautiously bringing himself to the first set of anchors. The tension eased. "Up you come!" At that point I knew that the climb would go.

From that belay Tom and I made great time, finding our slab legs and swimming up the seam on that amazing arch as we swapped leads. The first pitch had washed us clean and, after leaving the blood of scraped hands behind on the rock, the mountain was now rubbing off on us. There were no expectations, only movement and quietude, and each belay treated us to a vista more impressive than the last. Just before topping out, we paused and watched the rows of people lining the meadow below, so small from this height, as they looked up at us climbing onto the smooth summit, leaving the valley, rich in the warm colors of fall, in our wake.

Looking West from the Summit

Hushed whispers, it seems, do little to reinforce the true aspect of a place and serve only to handicap our own perception of possibility. So it must be, for how could whispers ever destroy a place as beautiful as this?

Pepe · · Raleigh, North Carolina · Joined Nov 2010 · Points: 25
muttonface wrote:Thanks for posting, I can't wait to get there next week.
Wow, thanks so much! Glad you enjoyed it. Best of luck to you guys on your bid next week, I'm sending good vibes - Block Route looks steep! You'll have to let me know how it goes. As for the Arch, well, you are in for a real treat. This thing is THE definition of classic. If you're ever down this way again and need a partner feel free to get in touch. Take care.
Pepe · · Raleigh, North Carolina · Joined Nov 2010 · Points: 25
Killis Howard wrote:It's a long way back, but I think we used some .8 called "dirty crack" or something like that to get up to the ledge as there was a mean ass copperhead or rattler occupying the easier way up
Thanks Killis, it was a good time. There's always some hippy occupying something. Doesn't surprise me in the least, either; you can see the heat waves radiating off the rock. I'm sure snakes feel that, or whatever sensory method snakes use to detect a badass snakey time, and lose their slithery minds.

Can't wait to make it out to the Sierras. Love watching videos of Peter Croft style up those things.
Guideline #1: Don't be a jerk.

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