Shylo led us over to the traverse and declared it doable. Because algae covers the sloping ledge, it’s slicker than axle grease when wet. While Shylo and Jared scampered across in their sneakers, I put on my rock shoes and chalk bag. If you slipped here, clawing your way out of the surging waves onto the sloping, barnacle- and kelp-covered rocks would be full-on. A year earlier, a climber jumped into the ocean at the nearby Otter Cliffs to retrieve a dropped rock shoe and drowned. Even in summer, the water temperature is only in the high 50s, with storm surges blowing seaweed and shells over the cliff top.
On the cave’s far left, you’ll find Sedated (5.11c), the only route I’d done here and another Butterfield classic. It’s the easiest way out — something to think about before you commit, because the tide rises an inch a minute. A little farther on, Shyloski pointed out Transatlantic (5.13a), long the only free route out the Cavern’s guts. Recently, Shylo and another unsung New England hero, Dave Sharratt, established two stunning lines on the right side. The rightmost, Fish Scales (5.12d), climbs a series of upside-down fins. We couldn’t safely reach it from where we were, so Greg suggested we rap.

Down on the cave floor, I put Shylo on belay as Jared rapped in to shoot photos. The ocean pumped right below my feet, occasionally spraying my legs. If the tide came up anymore or a storm rolled in, I could easily find myself underwater. Like a lot of routes in the Cavern, this one starts with a boulder-problem crux. Higher, you have to make big clips, and if you pop with rope out, you might land in the drink. The route comes to a head at the fourth clip, where you sink shaky double kneebars and reach way out. It took Shyloski a few tries before he sacked up for the clip. Above this, the route drops to 5.11, but this day the top was wet and Shylo lowered, trolleying in as he came down. “Have a go?” he asked me.

Were the route actually 5.12d (which I doubted heavily), I should theoretically have been able to dog it. Sucking hard on the salt-laden air, I flashed the initial boulder problem and, after hanging at every bolt, arrived at the crux clip. Maybe it was the crashing surf and sharp edges, but I wussed out. Next, Jared hopped on, working through in minutes and then giving a redpoint attempt; he made it just past the crux clip but then came off going around the corner. After this, we all jugged out, the waves crashing ever higher below our feet.