The Black Canyon is an amazing place. The stories of dangerous runouts, scary pegmatite, and heinous poison ivy have all combined to make The Black an ominous destination. Rob and I both sleep restlessly that night as we battle our inner demons, which seem to be fueled by the energy of the deep chasm below. Anyone who has read stories about climbing in the Black Canyon has heard accounts of the voices that people inevitably hear when they’re trying to sleep the night before a big climb. Those who have never been to the place probably snicker about such cowardly emotions, but I can assure you that Rob and I both succumbed to the sound of the voices that night. 

A pre-dawn wake up finds us both feeling raunchy. Robbie wishes us luck as he starts the 90 minute drive to the North Rim to take our pictures from the other side of the canyon. Right as he pulls out of sight, another truck screeches to a halt in the parking lot containing Brad and Andy, two climbers who are obviously bummed that we are doing Astro Dog. Amazingly, there is little posturing and we let them know that if we are holding them up, they are welcome to pass us. Neither Rob nor I is feeling like we’re going to set a speed record today. Brad and Andy seem relieved at our offer, but it’s obvious that we’ve acted as a serious buzz-kill to their day. Astro Slog is the series of 12 rappels that get you to the start of Astro Dog.  While the raps used to be a terrifying affair of sketchy protection, today they are fairly sedate as a certain magazine editor equipped most of the anchors with bomber new bolts a few years back (thank you Jeff Achey). 

While simul-rapping into the dark abyss below, both of us stay extra alert as we think of our good friend Ari Menatove, who broke his arm on these very same rappels. Fortunately we reach the bottom of the canyon without incident in about two hours. Brad and Andy end up being very happy that we’re on the route as Andy dropped his belay device and Rob gave him his extra. The Astro Tour is all about spreading the love. 

If the first 4 pitches of Astro Dog were at any single-pitch crag in America, they would be the most popular routes on the wall. Impeccable finger and hand cracks give way to dead vertical liebacks grabbing the corner of a flake so perfectly tailored that you’d swear it was chiseled by the hand of God Himself. Three or four more pitches of nondescript 5.9ish climbing on better-than-it-looks rock gets us to the midway point of the route and the two bolder bivy.