I've been training very hard lately. I've been feeling strong with some personal best onsights in the past few weeks. Saturday the weather was good and my mind was right so I got on something that has been on my ticklist for over a year. A real dream route.
My partner lead the first few relatively easy intro pitches. A 200' dihedral leading to a big rubble covered ledge, then a quick move over a blocky roof leads to the base of the first business pitch.
I felt completely in tune following those first pitches. I climbed fluidly and swifty from finger lock to finger lock, crossing through with my hands and marching my feet high with every move.
I racked up and enjoyed the sunny belay perch some 300' above the talus and twice that above the river below. I thought to myself "I'm going to onsight this pitch". Or did I say it out loud? "You've got this" my partner said in reply.
I scrambled up the first few moves, plug in an alien, and then climb to a rest stance. So far the climbing has been relatively easy, good finger locks with a few feet. Now the crack thins. I can see my next fingerlock and a high foothold to help me get there but to make the move I have to crank off a tiny pinscar, barely big enough to take a half a pad of my big fat ring and middle fingers. I see the move. I plug my fingers into the divot and pull hard. My foot moves upward and finds purchase, my left hand gropes the crack above feeling for the next lock.
CRACK! POP!
In an instant a disgusting crackle comes from my right hand and simultaneously my left hand drops into a solid finger lock. I'm still on the wall. I shove in an alien and let a few expletives fly. My partner doesn't understand what is wrong. He yells words of encouragement. I yell down to him that I think I've pulled a tendon. I try to shake it off, maybe it's not as that bad. I grit my teeth climb another ten feet or so, gingerly avoiding pulling with my right ring finger. Soon I am forced to use it if I am to continue upward. It has already begun to swell to the point that I can barely bend it. The pain dictates to me that the digit I am attempting to use is no longer in service. I yell down to my partner that if I am to finish the lead I will have to use a considerable amount of aid. Even though I am near the end of the pitch the remaining section of crack is thin and still considerably difficult. He takes the option of lowering me back to the belay and finishing my lead.
At the belay I deliberate whether I can continue. Four more pitches lie above us, several of them considerably difficult. After the next pitch retreat will be nearly impossible and if I am forced to prussik the crux pitches we will certainly run out of daylight before we reach to top. I go through various stages of denial and anger. Deep inside I know that I will not be climbing anymore today, or in the days to come. I make a pact with my partner to hold me to my decision to bail, even though we both desperately want to continue upward.
He takes the sharp end of the rope and ascends to my high point in order to complete my lead. I belay left handed but instictively grab the rope with my right hand to pay out slack. Neurons fire painful messages to my brain in defense. My partner comes up short while clipping and I see him look down, probably cursing me. He reaches the belay. It is bolted and he is able to rappel the pitch and clean our gear.
We make a series of four more raps. By the time I reach the ground my right hand is nearly useless. I tape my injured ring finger to my middle finger, what's called a "buddy splint" and then pack my hand in some snow for several minutes.
I'm upset about my finger but it is bittersweet because I am proud of my effort. I know that I gave it my all, I performed well, and there is nothing that I could have done differently. In some ways it was less frustrating than the type of mental self defeat that I have experienced on other routes.
The swelling continued to increase for the next 48 hours. I developed an ugly lump on the back of my hand just below my ring finger knuckle. I saw the doctor yesterday and he diagnosed it as the a2 pulley. Now I must be patient and wait for my body to heal itself. It might be a month, or two, or four, or eight. I'm hoping that in a few weeks I will at least be able to grip an ice tool. Until then I will be going stir crazy.
Pop
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longlegsrule
- Posts: 1799
- Joined: Sat Jan 25, 2003 7:21 pm
just kidding. Nice effort on the route. . . Be patient, tendons take time.