It’s raining all around us now but the overhang is keeping us dry. The wind has picked up, too. We don’t know if we have enough rope to get back to the ground and still fix. We lower one rope to get a visual of our proximity to the ground -- immediately the wind catches it and whips the end around a distant corner – stuck. We pull and prod on the rope with no avail. I decide to jug up the steep chimney above and retrieve our highpoint line. I clean the line and set up an anchor midway through the pitch – essentially one bolt – to make it back. Mike heads down the stuck rope, Bosch in hand, stops at a ledge (and where the rope is too tight to go any further) and drills the anchor. At this point the rope is so tight from the tension of it being pulled around the corner, that Mike can barely get his Gri Gri off. I’m forced to down-jug to him instead of rappelling. A few shenanigans later, we’re at the ground: cold, wet and chained with dripping hardware.

The Mudwall project stretched on for six weeks. As slaves to the grind, and with Mike’s wife expecting a child, we teamed up only on Sundays. Mike snuck up to to wall a few times on his own to clean and bolt. After the first few days on the wall it became clean enough to climb, and we would re-lead to our highpoints on each mission.

We brought music, hot drinks and scarves to keep us occupied and warm during late fall belay duty. During redpoint burns holds snapped off, sections were damp, and the line was often hard to make out. Once a cam sheered (a bolt was added). The base of our route was strewn with blocks.