Third Flatiron East Face South Side October 4th, 2003

The Third Flatiron rears above us like a frozen ocean of easy-angled rock. Though I've climbed around Boulder before, the Third is new territory for me and it seems to reach up into the sky for ever. We've eschewed the standard route on the east face - starting at the East Bench, several hundred feet from the base of the flatiron - in favor of the more wholehearted alternative of climbing the whole thing, 1300 feet of rock from the base where we are sorting gear to the summit. It will be purer, less busy - and it lacks bolts. I know that finding natural anchors in the middle of these great faces isn't always easy. The guidebook says "Protection is adequate". Sounds like faint praise to me.

That's when Chris brings me down to earth by asking me to remind him how to make the figure eight. I should have listened more carefully when I met him at the last math conference, when he told me that he hadn't climbed for a couple of years. I was keen to climb on my short visit to Colorado and glad to find a partner. I remind myself not to assume too much, give a brief tutorial on belaying with double ropes, and set off up the face.

About 150 feet up I clip a dicey bolt. Stop here? No, I decide; with sixty-meter ropes there must be some extra height we can gain on this pitch. Thirty feet or so past the bolt I traverse left to a shelf with a feeble-looking bush. I waste time fiddling a nut and a cam into improbable positions, sling a rock horn, and clip the wretched bush for good measure -- after all, it lured me here. Welcome to the Flatirons. I bring Chris up.

Pitch 2 sneaks round a five-foot overhang by heading for the extreme left side of the face. Stepping out on ledges I place a solid #9 hex. I like that piece, which is a shame because I'm not going to see it again. It took several more pitches before I realized it had been left behind. Booty for someone. Past the overhang I return from ledges to the insecure face, climb up too high - out of rope! - and have to downclimb to find a stance.

Pitch 3 is a stroll, but a few feet past the belay pitch 4 becomes a bit more serious. The top of Queen Anne's Head is visible to my left as I balance up for 40 feet or so without protection. Then I can sling a horn and the tense moment is over. The standard start is now below us and to our right and we can see crowds moving up. I like our way better. On pitch 6 we greet a couple who have the same idea. But they veer off leaving us to reach the top of the Dog's Head (pitch 7) alone.

There is a 7-inch or so crack between the Dog's Head and the rest of the Third. I descend about ten feet to where it is possible to swing over. An easy scramble leads to a perfect thread belay near the chockstones at the entrance to the South Bowl. The final pitch involves a little traverse to get onto the chockstones, then more airy slabs to the summit.

Beautiful. But we still have to get down. There are three rappels on the standard descent; the first to the South Bowl, the second to Friday's Folly Ledge, where one must `make a few exposed moves to the west' (guidebook again); the third to the ground. The rappels to the South Bowl and then Friday's Folly Ledge go smoothly enough, but I find the moves round the corner on the ledge a bit spooky, and the ledge itself is not particularly spacious. I decide to rap on down on our second rope while Chris sorts out the rope from the rappel before. This is where the trouble really begins.

"Chris" I yell from the ground, "Just throw down the blue rope and then come down on the red one".

Long silence.

"John"

"Yes"

"Will the rope pull through if I don't untie the stopper knot?"

Uh-oh. This sounds like trouble.

"No - you have to untie it first."

Very long silence. Then Chris' voice again - shouting up the cliff.

"Is there anybody up there?"

This *is* trouble. I climb round to the south side. Our blue rope is hanging futilely down, the upper end presumably still securely jammed at the South Bowl, the lower end on the ground. One useful lesson from this incident is that you can rap all the way to the ground from the South Bowl on double 60ms. If I'd known that we could have saved a lot of time. I tug firmly at the rope but it is no go.

I consult the guide book. I could prusik back up to Friday's Folly and then lead a 5.4 pitch to return to the South Bowl. The alternative is to wait and hope someone will turn up. At this point someone *does* turn up - a group of three teenagers climbing up the descent path. My plight is apparent.

"We left the rest of the party at the East Bench" says one. "They'll be coming over the summit soon. They'll free your rope for you." I tell Chris the good news and, sure enough, within a few minutes we are on the ground, with all our gear too.

What to learn? I was the de facto leader of this expedition and I should have made absolutely sure that the ropes were clear before leaving Chris to sort them out up on Friday's Folly. I let my own desire to get down to solid ground override my mental note not to presume that Chris had all the procedures down cold. We could have walked away from our mistake - expensively! - at any time, but had it happened in the middle of a longer descent it could have had serious consequences. I think Chris will remember to untie knots before pulling the rope next time. I hope I will remember to check more carefully that we all know exactly what we are doing. I know we will both remember a great day of easy climbing. Even our descent screwups can't change that.