While everyone was recovering from the first night of the Pemberton festival we were putting in some face time at the 69 crack a 5.13b/c. Steve and I both top-roped it and it was coming together quickly. I had gotten it down to a hang in the crux and one botched sequence, and Steve was ready to lead it after having checked out the placements thoroughly. Usually extremely cavalier, but after having had my thunder squashed the other day by dyer news that my gear placements weren’t up to par I opted to be a top rope hero. Steve on the other hand was calling down nervously explaining to me how each piece of his would hold or blow. Mostly for the benefit of calming his nerves, but also preparing me for the worst-case scenario. Luckily we didn’t have to test any of the pieces, Steve sent.

After hearing a little about the infamous 69 crack Keith was persistent that we had enough time to shoot it on our way to the airport. We woke up early and raced to grab a coffee while Steve was setting up a line. We hustled. Steve in his weary five-day climbing streak was fatigued and lethargically pulled through the bottom crux where he struggled into the crux proper. His physical strength was maxing out and he was placing gear; communicating in a half-panic that some pieces weren’t good. I knew that some airtime would be inevitable; I just didn’t know how it all would unfold. I was preparing myself for the worst.

Keith sensing the stress in Steve’s voice and knowing all to well about poorly placed gear, he persisted, “We don’t have to get these shots man”. Steve is very rarely willing to back off and this occasion wasn’t any different. He placed his yellow alien leading up to the crux. The next piece was a small nut. Unfortunately Steve hadn’t racked the right piece, he was going to have to forge ahead without this placement on a healthy run out. Not having much fear of falling on gear he pushed on in his weak state. Now at least eight feet over his last piece he struggles into the crux. Not having the gumption and the right feet in place he pitches into the air squelching (which is somewhere between the squeal of a pubescent teen and a small animal in the talons of a bird of prey) when I came taut on the other end.

I’m not a fan of wickedly falling out of control; it is upsetting to take these falls and equally rattling to catch. Somehow, Steve ended up taking the fall numerous times. Steve managed to blow out the yellow alien on the first fall. Witnessing gear blow wasn’t as shocking as I would have imagined. Despite it all I’m still looking forward to pushing my boundaries on gear.