Ancient Art, Stolen Chimney

By: Mark Schraad | Climbers: Mark Schraad, Gary Clark, Lynn Clark|Trip Dates: April 1, 2001

Photo: Gary Clark

® The author(s) and naclassics.com | Back to climb page NAC Home page

On Mud, Art, and Sandstone Castles

Climbing in the gym sucks! While obvious to the vast majority of climbers, it took me several winter months of thrashing myself on poorly set plastic routes before I came to this conclusion. I had been having a great time skiing all winter, but by the beginning of March I was skied out and I was dying to get outside on some real rock. With just a couple of weeks to go in the gym, Gary proposed a trip to southern Utah. He and Lynn wanted a third to help photo document a candidate for Gary's "North American Classic Climbs". The plan was to climb and document the Stolen Chimney route on Ancient Art and then climb Roper's and Steck's classic Kor-Ingalls route on Castleton Tower. After carefully considering the offer for about a picosecond, I accepted the invitation.

This was to be a whirlwind weekend climbing trip. We left Los Alamos at 2:00 p.m. on Friday, made good time to Durango where we stopped for dinner, and then continued on into the evening, arriving in Moab sometime around 10:00. We drove out along the River Road, and after being denied at the official Fisher Towers trailhead campsite, we drove back down towards the river and found a more spacious and tranquil spot to spend the night. As we set up camp we were treated to a most surprising and impressive display of the aurora borealis. Luminous bands of red and pink light streamed across the desert sky. At that latitude, we had to question what we were actually witnessing. The entire northern half of the night sky became illuminated, while the stars behind the display faded from view. With no city lights for more than 20 miles, the show was truly spectacular and seemed to provide a good omen for the weekend. Gary and Lynn soon settled into their tent, while I sacked out in my bivy and enjoyed the show and the cool crisp night. I continued to watch the display for an hour or two until my nose and ears got numb, and then I hunkered down into my bag and faded off. I had forgotten how much I enjoy sleeping out under the stars.

We were up shortly after 5:00 a.m. and quickly broke camp. The drive back over to the trailhead was short, so we choked down some breakfast bars and soaked up enough liquid for the climb while still in the parking area. Sometime around 6:00 we began our approach. I was immediately impressed with the scenery---inspired as one simply hiking for pleasure, but intimidated as a climber. The Fisher Towers form a very eerie and intriguing landscape of thin fins and towers. These strange features are composed of beautifully dark red Cutler sandstone, capped by a harder layer of Moenkopi sandstone, and draped in gothic-style with mud curtains that are eroding from these formations at an almost human, rather than geologic time scale. Ancient Art is the first major formation on the trail through these towers. It is a thin fin of sandstone with three summits, the highest of which forms a balanced corkscrew and the most unique and unusual formation I had ever seen. The Stolen Chimney route (5.11a or 5.8, A0) ascends to this high point through an obvious chimney on the sheer and intimidating southwest face, followed by an exposed pitch across a short ridge and up the summit corkscrew. With a short and easy approach through some shallow canyons, we made it to the base of the climb and were in line by about 6:30. We had a short wait as we watched one party topping out and two more parties just starting up the route.

The wait in the queue wasn't prohibitively long, and Gary soon took the first lead. Easy moves on broken sandstone blocks brought him to one of the two bolt ladders on the route. The climbing here was quite nice and well protected with good rests between each of the hard moves. This section of climbing is probably closer to mid-5.10 than the 5.11a rating given in the guidebooks. Gary led it free, but Lynn and I had to aid the hardest move. I had the feeling that the holds are getting better as more and more climbing traffic erods the sand from around the harder cobble holds.

I took the lead on the second pitch. Known as the "mud chimney", the name of the pitch did not instill a tremendous amount of confidence. It looked pretty straightforward from the first belay, however, so I took off and found the climbing to be quite enjoyable, though a little dirty. My guidebook had this pitch rated 5.8--5.9, but again, we all thought it was easier. A lot of stemming and a few good hand jams on well-protected and solid-enough mud brought me to the second belay and within sight of the corkscrew summit. Lynn and Gary followed quickly, and as the parties ahead of us rapped past, Gary took off on the third lead.

The third pitch is very short, and again has a bolt protected section of face climbing on small knobs and pebbles embedded in a nearly solidified matrix of sand. Gary again led it free and Lynn and I followed. This time I was able to make the moves, though this section seemed just slightly more difficult than the one below. Several very enjoyable moves on small holds and friction brought us to a belay on a horizontal ridge within about 40 feet of the summit. It was my lead again---time to walk the plank.

The final pitch is, if nothing else, extremely unique and exceedingly exposed. About 200 feet up the route and about 300 feet above the base of the formation is "The Sidewalk". I felt like a tightrope walker as I balanced my way across this 15-foot-long, foot-wide horizontal ridge top. This stroll in the sky provides great exposure with no protection. At 15 feet from the belay I was confronted with "The Diving Board", a fragile sandstone tongue jutting straight out from the summit corkscrew. A not-so-stylish mantle onto this diving board brought me closer to the first of three bolts. Inhale---don't look down---exhale---step---inhale---reach---exhale---clip. Whew! O.K., now look down. Wow! And breathe ... I was able to relax a little after clipping the first bolt.

One 5.8 move getting off of the diving board gave me some trouble, but as Lynn and Gary sat patiently I figured it out. Another clip, another move, one more clip, one more move, and then the anchors. I clipped a draw to the webbing that ran around the corkscrew just below the summit and then stepped around to the side opposite the last belay and scrambled to the top. The summit can't be more than 2 or 3 square feet in area, but standing up was a treat, though I wasn't able to pull off the hand stand that would have surely landed my picture on the cover of some climbing tabloid. I down climbed to the anchors and set up a top rope. Gary lowered me back to the last belay and then he and Lynn took their turns cart wheeling, hand standing, and dancing their way to the summit. I was delighted when Gary later commented that after thirty-six years of climbing this was the most unique summit he had ever reached.

The route was seeing a lot of traffic, so we were delayed in a speedy descent. We eventually rapped past eight other climbers on our way back down to the base of the formation, and more people were coming in to attempt the route as we hiked out. We were back at the truck at 1:30 p.m. for some much needed liquid, and then we headed back out on the trail for a hike over to the Titan to take a look at Finger of Fate (5.8, A3), another classic route, and one that Gary had been on a number of times. We were back at the truck again by 5:00 and headed toward Moab for a shower, a decent dinner, and another glorious night under the stars. One down, one to go.

Ed. Note: The Castleton Tower climb is covered in another trip report.