Another Pair of Camping, Climbing, Caving Extravaganza: CCC2K
June 16-18, 2000Sept 22-24, 2000
Another Spring, another CCC weekend at Seneca Rocks. Hardly ho-hum. Amy and I were joined by my old college chum Tom Kornack and we drove merrily out through the West Virginia sunshine.
 The fairy-tale rocks across the way from Nelson Rocks. Unfortunately, you can't climb 'em! |
After swinging through Seneca in search of fellow climbers, we headed for Nelson Rocks since none of us had been there before. Excellant crag with a pair of very Seneca-like fins of rock. Not quite as large, maybe, but new climbs; many of them bolted. Not too populated on a Friday afternoon either. We met Stu who gave us beta on some climbs and turned out to be the owner of the whole place. He recommended some climbs on the 007 wall.
I lead up E-Z Wider (5.5 bolted) and set up a toprope off a tree. Tom hadn't been on real rock in probably five years, but his great height allowed him to get right back on and scamper up. Amy had no trouble with this easy climb either and we each tried a couple of different variations. Stu and Mike, a local, had set up a rope next door on the harder Licenced to Drill (5.8 with a 5.9+ variation) and Never Say Never (5.8). Amy and Tom both pushed themselves on the latter eventually, after much grunting, groaning and hangdogging, managed to muscle their way to the top. I gave Licenced to Drill a try finding the first two thirds fairly easy and the 5.9-or-so roof a bit more challenging. Finally, I climbed the other 5.8 and we called it a day. Back to camp to set up tents and report to the Porch for the requisite pizza.
Reunion time! Mike and Steve from Kentucky were there and had brought along a passle of newcomers (at least new to Seneca). Jill was there along with JB and Shane from Ohio. Many of the usual folks were absent including the entirity of the Indiana clan, Linda, Chris Miller, and Merle, out with a busted leg. But there were sufficient new people to provide critical population and a raucous time was had by all (some help provided by a pan of Jiffy-Pop).
Saturday- Given that the weather was unportentious, I decided to cave today. Of course, it didn't help that I had been reading my WV Caves book (circa 1948) and had a brand new USAF flight suit I was itching to try! Mark distributed maps and Chris, Mike, Tom and I headed out for the Hamilton-Trout cave complex about half an hour away. We were all experienced cavers so I was looking forward to a speedy traverse of a couple of extensive caves.
Sunday dawned foggy and humid. It was determined that we were going to climb that day. Over breakfast, the politics of who would be climbing with whom was argued over. I am the only one who leads trad and I have only one rope. For N people climbing, N-1 ropes are required. I don't want to climb with N>4, but at the moment, I had only enough ropes for N=2. I wanted to take Tom for a nice multi-pitch climb and Amy, being the SO, has special privaledges as well. Finally, we borrowed a rope from Steve who was planning on playing around the South End for a while and then heading home at 2 or 3 with the promiss that we'd get it back to him by that time. Mike (who has a rope) wanted to climb with us, but Shane, his gym-climbing-terrified-of-rappelling friend didn't want to deal with the exposure, plus that would have put us at five. Mike, not wanting to ditch Shane for a second day, did the gallant thing and bowed out. It was too bad we didn't get to climb with him, but there will be plenty of other opportunities. With that taken care of, we broke down camp and headed for the rock.
Tom's page of Trout Cave photos.
CCC'00 part II was held in late September and was a fairly mellow affair. Tom Kornack drove down from Princeton on Friday morning and we headed out arriving at Seneca at about 7, just as it was getting dark. The campsite was empty except for one unoccupied tent so we cast about for things to do. Having never been to the top of either peak at Seneca, I wanted Tom to experience something of the exposure and terror. And since the weather forecast called for rain both days, this pleasent evening seemed like the perfect time. Amy and Tom and I donned headlamps and started up the North Peak Trail.
Hamilton-Trout is part of the John Guilday Cave Preserve and is the best-marked, most user-friendly trio of caves I have ever imagined. Far from the secret, hidden trail cave that is the norm, the trail is labelled, there is a sign-in pavilion (lacking pens) and signage on each cave. Yikes! My map of Trout cave looked to be the most promissing; the Hamilton map looked like a mimeograph of a photocopy of something some once scribbled on papyrus. A fairly stright-forward linear cave with occasional side passages and local detail. Large entrance and 200 feet of huge passage filled with car-sized breakdown. At the back of the main passage, we were presented with three different crawling holes to investigate. None of them turned out to be the through passage although an interlude of pleasent crawling ensued. Chris, an avid caver from Missouri, was well suited to the tight squeezes. She is young and seems to relish claustrophobia like a fine wine. Tom is also young and energetic and bounded around like a puppy. Mike and I, the oldsters of the group, kept a more sedate pace.
Turns out the through passage was behind us and down. And huge. Just goes to show the confusion that can result from the non-orthogonality of typical cave layouts. Also the marginal helpfulness of your typical two-dimensional cave map. Soon we were in a slightly smaller passage investigating a wonderful array of fossils in the ceiling and walls. Lots of brachiopods and other scallop-like shells. Another few hundred feet in, we were presented with a branch in the cave. Heading left we would encounter the "network", a series of narrow passages at right angles to each other and surprisingly regular (at least on the map). Probably developed from some sort of uniform fracture pattern in the parent rock that allowed water to get in. To the right was the remainder of the cave the the saltpeter workings.
We headed to the left to investigate the Network. By the map, the majority of Hamilton is composed of such a network. Despite the uniformity of the map, the passages we traversed varied from three-foot diameter tubes to narrow slot canyons with significant vertical development. There were other passages which were little more than rat-holes. At the far end of the Network lies the Mud Sculpture Room accessible after a short crawl. True to its name, it is a small room with a steeply sloping muddy floor. On the protruding layers of rock on the walls people have sculpted hundreds of wonderful mud statues of every shape and description. The 18" long rhinoceros was probably the most realistic and impressive. Lots of faces, nudes, mushrooms, and writing made of mud letters. Everywhere you turned there was something new to see.
Next up, we split up to investigate a pair of parallel (again, by the map) corridors. This turned out to be a bad idea. Mike and I traversed the narrow slot canyon on the right and had little difficulty getting to the opposite end of the Network where we were to meet Chris and Tom. Knowing the speed at which that pair could move and the relatively leisurely pace we had taken, I was surprised to not see them there. Using the map, we attempted to go meet them, but could see no passageways! With an ominous feeling, we backtracked and took the left-hand passage hoping to catch up with them. It quickly ended in a small, rubble-choked room with no visible exits larger than a squirrel. With growing concern, we headed back to the place we had last seen our partners outside the Mud Room. Still no sign. Yelling commenced and panic began to set in. We took one more run down the slot canyon when I saw light ahead! Chris and Tom had embarked on an epic crawl through a highly complicated series of ratholes. And they were just euphoric about the whole thing. Without further ado, we retreated to the main passage and ate a sparse lunch.
By comparison, the saltpeter mining area of the cave was quite spacious and we traversed it without incident at fairly high speed. Our goal was the "Square Room" located about two thirds of the way through the cave. We found the Lounge, which bore an uncommon resemblance to a hot-tub and lounged there for a bit. Tom sang Crash Test Dummies, I sang Clapton, and Mike sang Kermit. Quite fun. Then we pressed on through the first of a number of belly wriggle passages covered in cave popcorn. Mike, unable to fit through due to chest size and his plate-mail kneepads, retreated and met us via a different way. Then through some additional claustrophobic passage.
Mike, citing a headache and feelings of general crappiness, opted out at this point and took a nap. Tom wriggled through a very tight (and damp!) crawl to the back passage of the cave. Chris followed without breaking stride. While shorter than Tom, I'm a good deal more mesomorphic. I had to remove helmet and pack and pull through on my back to make it. Finally, up through a series of shattered plates (the first real vertical development we'd seen in the cave and we emerged in the fabled Square Room. The room was, as advertised, startlingly square. Probably thirty feet on a side and thirty tall. Very regular, vertical sides ending in a slightly pyramidal ceiling. The impression was that of being inside a stone castle, possibly inside an obliette or dungeon. Water dripped from the ceiling dankly which was noteworthy as this was the only part of the cave that wasn't dry and lifeless.
While the cave reportedly continues on a few hundred tortuous feet more to emerge through "a small openning" to the outside, we elected to return by the path more travelled by and retake the Land of Air and Sun in the more conventional fashion. This we accomplished without incident and soon were marvelling at the sudden heat and humidity.
Looking back at the entrance of Trout Cave. (photo by Pam Klinger)Though everyone was tired, we elected to look into New Trout cave since it was only a few hundred yards away. While Mike and Chris enjoyed the airconditioning effects of the strongly blowing cave mouth, Tom and I ran in to investigate. For 400 feet, the cave extends in a uniform passage between two thick black bedding planes on a slant. Light from the entrance can be seen for much of that distance making visibility poor. Eventually, we began to traverse up and over the bedding planes and emerged into a large room with breakdown on the floor. Thinking of our comrades and a swim, we turned around having penetrated perhaps half of the cave. Black sooty material (manganese dioxide) covered many of the slabs of rock and we were soon uniformly gray. Back to daylight and the outside. Then a dip in the swimming hole and another satisfying pizza at the Front Porch.
Amy, Tom and I headed out for Skyline Traverse (5.3*), a famous route and supposedly "one of the finest of it's grade anywhere". It starts at a nice chunky crack a few hundred feet up from Roy Gap Road which was convenient. Feeling somewhat loggy, we cached our shoes and rope bags and I lead up the first pitch. Long pitch although quite easy with loads of gear placements. Large detached flake on the left and well-textured wall on the right. Another party was working on Dufty's Popoff (5.7) above us at the belay station, so I ended the first pitch ten feet early at a comfortable ledge. Amy came up and then belayed up Tom. Tom, new to multi-pitch climbing was impressed by the view of the forested valley to the east and the craggy Southern Pillar to the south, as well he should be.
After the trio above us cleared out, I lead a two-piece pitch up the remainder of pitch 1 to the actual belay station--a pair of meaty bolts on an exposed ledge. This was the actual spine of Seneca rising up to the right towards the South Peak. Directly below I could see Steve and company working on Ye Gods and Little Fishes (5.8*) and Candy Corner (5.5+). I also managed to remove a nice #5 stopper someone had left as booty inexplicably right next to the belay bolts.
Amy on belay duty after the first pitch. Tom after his first multi-pitch pitch. The second pitch of Skyline goes up this wide chimney after an initial exposed step. The next pitch featured what is lightly referred to as "an airy step that has filled the hearts of beginning climbers with fear" across the gap above Ye Gods, etc., and up into a wide chimney. In fact it was a bit tense given the amount of air underneath and sparseness of feet for the seven-foot latteral maneuver, but easily accomplished and probably not harder than the climbs grade. The gear placements were numerous and obvious and I started to have some serious fun. Up a wide chimney with occasional loose stuff to a broad, sloping ledge with a few trees. A pair of large boulders were slung as an anchor and the others were brought up.
We had a quick lunch up there marvelling at the nicely framed view of the Southern Pillar and at the nice echo each time we bellowed "ROCK!" after knocking loose a pebble or peice of choss. Mike tells me that in fact they were almost continuously bombarded by our missiles but never heard a thing. All I can say is wear a helmet!
Not knowing the extent of the climb, I started up the third pitch and was shortly on the Broadway ledge after a few easy moves. Wanting to continue and feeling a bit wacky, I contrived a strange route up the rough, fragile rock to the left and almost immediatly began regretting it. The weather was turning foul and the hour was getting late. Downclimbing and cleaning as I went, I set up the final anchor on a tree and soberly brought up the others. The time was 2:45 and we needed to get that rope back pronto!
We debated rapping off the large tree at the southern end of Lower Broadway but the drop was long and we didn't know if a pair of 50 meter ropes would handle it (probably would have). So we traipsed over past Humphrey's Head and down to the top of EJ, a rap station I know well. We teamed up with the quartet who had just climbed it and rapped down to base. Just as I touched down, it started to rain in earnest. I was just as glad not to have been rapping on wet rope, but I had to wait around while the other party cleared out and I could pull the rope. In the process I became very wet and irritable. Amy and Tom headed out to collect the gear from the other side. The time was almost 4 and Steve and company were long gone. Sigh. An overly wet ending to an otherwise excellant, relaxed and very soul-satisfying multipitch lead up a beautiful route.
We jumped back in the car and headed for home and a more mundane life.
Part II
September 22-24, 2000
By the time we reached the observation deck and scrambled up to the top, it was fully dark. There was just enough ambient light that I could maneuver around on the narrow summit ledges. For a while I stood on the highest point admiring the view and feeling the conciderable rush that comes from having an unseen drop of many hundreds of feet on either side of your narrow platform. A gentle breeze blew in from the east and everything was very quiet. Lights from the visitor's center parking lot lit up the empty pavement with pools of yellow light. The Porch and Yokums were clearly visible in actinic mercury vapor glory down below. Tom and Amy were convinced to come out and also enjoyed the grand isolation of Seneca at night. For a while, we sat up there three headlamps against the fathoms of dark air. From below in the town and the campground several different groups had seen our lights and were signalling back and forth. We twinkled and blinked back hoping all the while that we weren't sending distress signals in Morse code. The descent was mercifully breif and soon we were meeting and greeting at Group Site E.
Saturday: Despite the dire forecast and the rain during the night, the day was quite calm and blue. Tom and Amy and I set out for the rocks. Old Man's was already occupied, so we tackled Thais (5.5*), a climb I've been eyeing for quite a while now. I lead on Tom's beautiful new Mammut rope consigning my old warhorse to bringing up the third person. The start is not at all obvious. There is a lot of vegetation and several possible cracks to follow. The guidebook doesn't make it entirely clear either. In fact, I got a little higher than comfortable before placing my first piece. Since the whole face is north-facing and hadn't dried out from the rain of the night before, footing was slippery. Big chunky holds though and not terribly challenging. Gear placement was a bit dicey, but before long, the route started to look like the book's description. I attained a large ledge beneath a deep, narrow chimney and set up a great anchor. Amy came up and cleaned most of the gear and then bellayed Tom up who cleaned the odd directional.
Pitch #2 started out directly overhead and involved going through the chimney. The problem, aside from a few loose blocks, was that the chimney narrowed to about 8" at the top requiring one to stay near the outside. Unfortunately, all the pro was deep in the interior. Someone had apparently been faced with this problem before as a rap anchor had been set at the appex of the chimney*. I clipped it and concidered my options. Finally, by chimneying back to one wall, feet to the other, I was able to shimmy outward to a small hold and get onto the face outside the chimney. All in all, it was similar to a certain chimney problem at Chickies Rock. I climbed on up a large offwidth crack and attained a tiny, shakey stance high up on the face. Several pitons provided a temporary anchor while I searched for a better solution. Finally I opted for a couple cams and a micronut in a shallow, flaring crack and brought up Tom. Tom, being tall, had little trouble cleaning my placements, despite a lack of experience in the area and Amy coached him through a tricky tricam removal (sink the pink!!!). Amy, on the other hand, was burdened with the backpack and, being a good deal shorter than the rest of us, had some trouble in the chimney. But she showed remarkable determination in the face of adversity and soon gained the bellay stance.
The third pitch was a short one but the first couple moves off the anchor were a bit committing. Bulging face with lots of small holds. Feeling great love for the aforementioned Mammut rope, I moved through cautiously and soon attained easier ground above moving off to the right up a large ramp on the face as directed by the guidebook. A huge wall to the left was covered in shallow cracks and rock tripe and looked very unclimbed. The fourth pitch was supposed to head back left to the inside of the corner, but was nowhere to be seen. As I set the anchor, I was amused to hear the sound of loud voices and bagpipes coming from the North Peak. First Tom, then Amy were brought up to the faint strains of the standard repetoir of Highland favorites. Amy had a good deal less trouble than the rest of us around the initial bulge having found good holds to the left.
Later, it was determined that you actually have to downclimb a bit and traverse across shakey ground to the left to attain the seldom-climbed fourth pitch of Thais. Instead, we continued up the ramp and topped out above the West Pole rap station (Thais Escape, 5.2). Ropes were coiled and gear sorted and we moved up to toward the summit. After a bite to eat, Amy lead the precarious fourth class scramble to the actual airy summit. Tom followed and sat for a while on the summit in a stunned silence. "Amazing!" he said in a very small voice. I followed up and found that the old piton used to anchor the register box had been removed. Photos were taken and views admired. Then the downclimbing began and we reached safer ground.
On two ropes, we rapped the extremely long West Pole face to the top of the first pitch of Old Man's. Tom and I started pulling down the rope and were stopped by Amy at the last minute who pointed out that the safety figure-8 was still tied in the end. THAT would have been awkward! We soon attained the ground and hiked out. Cat Lazarof joined us for a foursome at the swimming hole where other climbers and a pair of extremely large dogs cavorted and played. Then back to the campsite and off to the Porch where a large gathering was in progress. The usual hilarity ensued and that was that.
 Dave investigates a narrow passage in Trout. (photo by Pam Klinger) |
After waiting an interminable time, a group of us finally headed out as the vanguard for the slow main hoarde. Amy, Tom and I were joined by Mark 'Aqua' Neubauer, and Pam and David Klinger. The cave was much the same as before and if anything the breakdown-heavy first passage was a bit more annoying. But we made it to the Maze section and the Mud Sculpture room without much ado. Pushing further down the corridor Mike and I had traversed repeatedly last time, we came upon a most entertaining section of narrow slit canyon too thin to pass through with a low crawl underneath and a difficult high route. While crawling through, Aqua had a bat latch onto his arm and great pandemonium broke loose among several parties.
Rejoining the main passage, we came across Cat's and Rafi's groups and proceeded to the Register room and headed back through the Saltpeter workings. After some crawling and other gymnastics, we came to the Lounge. Amy was feeling sapped and wanted to go out. Pam and David also were concerned about time and wanted to head for the surface. So I accompanied them out while Tom and Mark continued on for the Square Room. This time, everyone had a map! After exploring a couple of promissing side passages that Pam found, we regained the surface and had a pleasent wait for the others to return. I ran over to the entrance to Hamilton Cave--part of the same complex of caves though apparently unconnected to Trout--and was impressed at the small entrance. Clearly, it is a very different kind of cave. Next time!
Eventually, everyone got back out and we headed for home tired and happy from another successful CCC.
Tom, Amy, Pam, Aqua and I getting cozy near the Mud Sculpture Room. (photo by Dave Klinger)
Amy in a spherical hole we discovered. (photo by Pam Klinger)
- *From: Mike Fernandez
Re: The Chimney on Thais and the bail sling therein
Just had to drop you a note - somehow stumbled across your web site from a link somewhere, & was reading your tr on Thais. I do believe the bail station you noted at the top of the chimney could have been mine! I was there about the same as you in 1999, and the second pitch of Thais was one of my first leads after a 20 year layoff from climbing. I ended up being sucked seriously into the chimney, then somehow traversing out onto the main west face. As I perched there on a small ledge, trying to regain my composure, another party played thru & stayed on route - they came up on the outside of the chimney (I've since learned - go into the chimney only in desperation - this isn't caving here), then got onto the actual Thais face on the east side of the chimney. At that point I was done, & ended up slinging a chock in the top of the chimney to rap back down on.
Huh! Well go figure...
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