Journeys: SEND IT - August 3rd - Salt Lake City, UT/Bozeman, MT

After talking with my friend Paul in Bozeman, MT, our next stop on the trip, we decided we would leave for Bozeman on the afternoon of the 3rd instead of the morning of the 4th. Paul had taken time off of work and wanted to maximize his days off. We would not leave Salt Lake City without climbing though. We headed to a popular roadside crag in Big Cottonwood Canyon called the Salt Lake Slips, where had another mini epic before we even started climbing. The SL Slips are located near the same pull out for Dead Snag and Glass Ocean, but is on the north side of the creek and in about 25 yards. The guide book urges climbers to take extreme care in crossing the creek since people have been swept away and drowned in the past. On my initial look I could find no viable crossing and started to search for other avenues of approach. If we drove down stream a quarter of a mile we would cross a bridge putting us on the same side of the creek as the Slips. It looked like if we parked at the bridge we could simply walk upstream and get to the Slips. We parked, walked, and were dismayed when we came to a rock outcropping, the Creekside Crag, that offered not an inch between rock wall and raging white water. We delicately scrambled up and over the rock with the water 20 feet below us and found bolted anchors at the top of a climb on the east side of the wall. We tediously rappelled down repacked the rope and walked on. We did not get very far. The gully between Creekside Crag and the Slips was much larger than I thought, It was also steeper, looser, and more choked with vegetation than it needed to be too. I was cursing again. Falling my way up a steep dirt slope, then bushwhacking my way through dense saplings we finally came to the top of what I hoped was the Slips. I found a set up bolted anchors, which were the top of a two pitch sport climb on the Slips called the Italian Arete. I flaked out the rope for the rappel and ran it through the rappel rings, then clipped my cowtail into the anchors and got ready to swing over the lip of the top of the cliff. As I was peering over, my foot caught probably the only loose rock at the top, sending it skipping down the face just as a climber was topping out of the first pitch on a ledge below us. "Rock!", I yelled. The climber blankly stared up at us. It was a slow motion moment. The rock's initial descent was away from the climber, but after two skips off the face it was tracking directly towards him. I had time to yell, "Watch out bro!" He sort of turned his head and the rock glanced off of his right shoulder. I felt like a total piece of [insert derogatory word here]. We rappelled and once on the ground I apologized ferociously. The climber was uninjured and forgiving. This had been the worst approach of my time as a climber. We had crawled for an hour over a quarter mile of terrible terrain to get to a wall 50 yards from the road and then I hit another climber with falling rock. I did not want to climb. I just wanted to leave. Big Cottonwood Canyon had taken its toll on me these last two days. Fortunately, I was able to put aside my completely bruised, broken, shattered ego and knock out some enjoyable sport climbs at the Slips.

Beth Ann climbing at the SL Slips.
Photograph by Chuck Bolte.

When we ran out of time and had to pack up, we asked some other climbers if there was a faster way back. They told us there was an easy creek crossing just at the end of the crag. There sure was. A single strand of webbing tied between two trees spanned a shallow part of the creek, providing the needed security to overcome the swift, cold current.

Beth Ann. Cold. Very Cold.
Photograph by Chuck Bolte.

We were back at the truck in 10 minutes versus the the hideous hour long approach, which somewhat lifted our spirits as we left Salt Lake City bound for Bozeman. Big Cottonwood Canyon had done its damage, yet I cannot wait to return and again face the demons that were so cruel to me. The lure of climbing is undeniable.