Iceaxe
12-21-2006, 04:06 PM
I just sorting through my old files and found this Heaps TR someone sent me.... pretty funny stuff :haha:
A Sh***y Trip in Heaps
by Anonymous
The intent was to solo down Heaps overnight. I figured my partner would be a no-show and I would be able to go alone. But that was not the case. I found her in the Bit and Spur parking lot. While she sorted gear I ran into the Park and got a permit for an overnighter, to be out by the next evening. Back at the parking lot I learned that R.S. not only had left my watch in Las Vegas, but she had also shown up with a tiny pack, a thin shortie wetsuit, and no drybags. Worse, she had brought her dog along and couldn't find the doggy- sitter in Springdale. These were all omens I stupidly ignored.
I lent her a 3-2 wetsuit and the 7mm jacket I was going to wear over my own 3-2 wetsuit. I pulled a pack out of my truck, punched three holes in the bottom for drainage, and told her to pack her stuff in it. The only dry bag I could find was just big enough for the dry clothes we would need.
I had real misgivings about her taking the dog along but she insisted and I caved. She hid her dog, a small neurotic bug-eyed Papillon, in her backpack as we rode the shuttle into the park. It was dark by the time we arrived at the Grotto trailhead. Within an hour we were high on the ridge past the Saddle behind Angel's Landing. We slept an hour and then hiked quickly to Camp 2. We had made good time and could afford a few more hours of sleep.
It was cold and I just fidgeted without sleeping. My second night without sleep. It was past 5:00 when I first tried to wake R.S. She refused to budge. I tried again an hour later and she still refused. Yet another hour later I tried again, and she refused again. I grabbed my pack and left her there, fully intending to solo Heaps as I had planned. Unfortunately she caught up with me again as I retrieved a cached rope and was repacking at Camp IV.
As we started out on the ridge toward Phantom Valley, R.S. immediately began having problems with the dog, fell behind and got lost. I waited endlessly at the second rappel and finally decided to go back up the ridge and find her. She had been fussing with the dog and I reminded her that there was no turning back after the second rappel and that she needed to carry the damned dog in her pack.
Finally at noonish, about 4 hours behind schedule, we arrived at the first potholes. I put on my wetsuit and she put on my other suit and the jacket. The dog was going to be a big problem. At each pothole she would coax it in and out of the drybag to coddle it. It caused serious delays at every rappel and swim. I was carrying all the weight and waiting for her for long periods of time in the cold water. Worse, on the very first swim she had tried to carry the dog across in an open dry bag. The bag filled with water and soaked our few dry clothes and the matches. This made me angrier and prompted her to change tactics with the dog. At each pothole and rappel she would put the dog in the drybag, roll it up so it was bulging with air, then seal it. At the end of the rappel or swim she would open the bag to give the dog some air. This fussing with the dog consumed an enormous amount of time, and by 4:00 we were only midway through the second narrows, where we encountered a pothole obstacle that required a 25-foot swim and some traversing to the platform. The maneuver seemed like it took only a few minutes, but it was apparently longer, because when R.S. arrived at the platform and opened the bag, Bimbo was as dead as a doornail
A Sh***y Trip in Heaps
by Anonymous
The intent was to solo down Heaps overnight. I figured my partner would be a no-show and I would be able to go alone. But that was not the case. I found her in the Bit and Spur parking lot. While she sorted gear I ran into the Park and got a permit for an overnighter, to be out by the next evening. Back at the parking lot I learned that R.S. not only had left my watch in Las Vegas, but she had also shown up with a tiny pack, a thin shortie wetsuit, and no drybags. Worse, she had brought her dog along and couldn't find the doggy- sitter in Springdale. These were all omens I stupidly ignored.
I lent her a 3-2 wetsuit and the 7mm jacket I was going to wear over my own 3-2 wetsuit. I pulled a pack out of my truck, punched three holes in the bottom for drainage, and told her to pack her stuff in it. The only dry bag I could find was just big enough for the dry clothes we would need.
I had real misgivings about her taking the dog along but she insisted and I caved. She hid her dog, a small neurotic bug-eyed Papillon, in her backpack as we rode the shuttle into the park. It was dark by the time we arrived at the Grotto trailhead. Within an hour we were high on the ridge past the Saddle behind Angel's Landing. We slept an hour and then hiked quickly to Camp 2. We had made good time and could afford a few more hours of sleep.
It was cold and I just fidgeted without sleeping. My second night without sleep. It was past 5:00 when I first tried to wake R.S. She refused to budge. I tried again an hour later and she still refused. Yet another hour later I tried again, and she refused again. I grabbed my pack and left her there, fully intending to solo Heaps as I had planned. Unfortunately she caught up with me again as I retrieved a cached rope and was repacking at Camp IV.
As we started out on the ridge toward Phantom Valley, R.S. immediately began having problems with the dog, fell behind and got lost. I waited endlessly at the second rappel and finally decided to go back up the ridge and find her. She had been fussing with the dog and I reminded her that there was no turning back after the second rappel and that she needed to carry the damned dog in her pack.
Finally at noonish, about 4 hours behind schedule, we arrived at the first potholes. I put on my wetsuit and she put on my other suit and the jacket. The dog was going to be a big problem. At each pothole she would coax it in and out of the drybag to coddle it. It caused serious delays at every rappel and swim. I was carrying all the weight and waiting for her for long periods of time in the cold water. Worse, on the very first swim she had tried to carry the dog across in an open dry bag. The bag filled with water and soaked our few dry clothes and the matches. This made me angrier and prompted her to change tactics with the dog. At each pothole and rappel she would put the dog in the drybag, roll it up so it was bulging with air, then seal it. At the end of the rappel or swim she would open the bag to give the dog some air. This fussing with the dog consumed an enormous amount of time, and by 4:00 we were only midway through the second narrows, where we encountered a pothole obstacle that required a 25-foot swim and some traversing to the platform. The maneuver seemed like it took only a few minutes, but it was apparently longer, because when R.S. arrived at the platform and opened the bag, Bimbo was as dead as a doornail