Oh the irony. Just days before heading through Heaps I posted a hello and introduction.

I think I said something about looking forward to posting a trip report, though I didn't really have this in mind. But things are what they are and so here's my first substantial post.



The radio crackled and Tom’s voice came through, “So who brought the black cat on this trip?” I shook my head, but couldn’t fault him for busting my balls, after all it had been one of those days of small misfortunes and mistakes and it was his rope I’d just stuck on the on the second to last rappel in Heaps. “Uh, Yeah… that’d be me.”



This was my second trip through Heaps and I’d taken the sweeper position for the final rappel sequence. I’d wanted a chance to hang out at the bird perch and enjoy the view in solitude. At this point though, with 200 feet of rope, which I needed for the pull line on the final rappel, hopelessly stuck above me, I’d lost all interest in hanging out. Things weren’t going well and it was only going to get worse.



Although I still had a 100’ and a 75’ rope, I was still 125’ short of what I needed so the decision was made to attach another length of rope and some webbing to the end of the 300’ rap line and I’d haul it up to the perch, tie it all together to create a long enough pull line. Not wanting to haul 400 feet of rope and webbing hand over hand I pulled my ropeman off my harness and was in the process of attaching it to the anchor when I fumbled it and watched it fall to the ground as I yelled to those below to watch out. Yep a black cat day.



So without a progress capture device I pulled up the 400’ of rope and webbing hand over hand, tying loops every fifty feet or so and clipping them into the anchor. After tying everything together I lowered the pull line down, only to find that it was 10 feet short and had wrapped around the rap line. At this point I was extremely tired from the effort of hauling the rope and my hands had clawed up, unable to either open or close fully From below they radioed that I had 10-15 feet of rap line on the ground. After resting for a few minutes until I could use my hands again I pulled up on the rap line until the pull line was on the ground and then reblocked the rope.



Tired but relieved that everything was finally set I attached my rappel device opposite the block, said good-bye to the bird perch, not caring a bit that I hadn’t been able to hang out and enjoy the solitude. I rapped past the crack that marks the start and soon went free hanging; I rappelled 8-10 feet until I saw a knot two feet below my rappel device and recognized with a nauseating horror that I had blocked the rap side of the lines and was on the pull side! Expletive after expletive erupted from my mouth in a Mount Vesuvius of profanity. After a moment I took a deep breath, locked off my device and reached for the radio to tell the team what had happened.



On the ground below the rest of the team radioed that it wasn’t a big deal; that we’d work it out but they as well as I knew I’d really f---d up and it wasn’t an easy one to fix.



Options were offered and ascending to the birds perch seemed the obvious choice, so I looked at what I had to accomplish this. I’d dropped my ropeman, so my primary ascender was out, but I still had cord for a prussic, a couple sewn runners I could use for steps and a klemheist and a Purcell prussic which I use for my PAS. So I had what I needed but had no idea how I was going to ascend through and past the narrow crack above me which formed a sort of roof separating me from the birds perch. I tied on the prussic placed my foot in it and stood up. Okay, that’s going to work. As I began to tie a klemheist, the team radioed from below that they were going to attach ascenders to the rope if I wanted them.



I wasn’t looking forward to hauling, hand over hand, another 300’ of rope, but ascenders sounded better than what I had. I sighed deeply and set about it, again tying off 50-60’ loops until I had Toms ropeman and mine which had fallen. I then untied and dropped loop after loop until the rope was back on the ground, at this point my hands had clawed up again, so I had no choice but to hang there until I could use them again. I attached the ropeman and watched in frustration as it wouldn’t bite into the rope but just kept sliding down.



As I was doing this the radio would periodically crackle and questions, suggestions and encouragement would come through. These were always welcome, but each time required me to stop what I was doing and reach for the radio- an interruption which was not as welcome and one I’d ignore at times.



Ascending wasn’t looking good. As I hung there 280’ above the ground I could feel my harness cutting into my legs and my thoughts switched to thoughts of suspension trauma and the impossibility of successfully spending the night hanging there. To keep blood flow in my legs I’d twist from side to side pulling on my leg loops and standing in the prussic for a bit of relief. From below they asked if I wanted them to call for a rescue and while I was doubtful, given the nature of Heaps and the position I was in, that one could be performed in time, I asked for one; as I wanted every chance I had of getting back to the ground.



Below Tom must have been thinking of suspension trauma also as he radioed me repeatedly that he wanted me to get the pack off my back and lower it down. I knew I needed it gone but I didn’t have the energy to pull the rope up for a third time, attach the pack and lower it, so I radioed this to them. After drinking the last of my water, I pulled out my puffy and my headlamp, I radioed them that I was going to drop it and to clear the area. I let it go and watched with a sinking feeling as it seemingly floated for 3-4 seconds to the ground where it exploded with a sickening thump, quickly dispelling any illusion of it floating.



Options were discussed. At length we decided that they’d pull down on the rap line as I pulled myself up on it, a sport-climbing technique known as yarding up. It had been suggested earlier but I’d dismissed it as I couldn’t imagine it working given the amount of rope that was out, my weight free hanging on it, concern for the stress it’d put on the system, the fully weighted ropes sliding over sharp edges and the ever looming problem of getting past that crack above me. But I’d been hanging there for at least 45 minutes, nightfall was approaching and time was running out, so we gave it a go. The black cat must have been in the pack I’d jettisoned because it worked like a charm and almost immediately I found myself at the crack. At this point, with them pulling me up, I was able to climb through and past the crack and quickly found myself back at the perch.



Relieved and exhausted I immediately blocked the opposite side of the rope and clipped into the chains. I rested for a good ten minutes before we went through multiple double checks to make sure I was on the correct side of the rope. Satisfied everything was good and rested enough to control my rappel I unhooked my safety line and began a very slow descent. As the ground drew near relief washed over me and when I found myself standing on terra firma Shane reached out for a hug which I gratefully accepted and then hugged Tom. I knelt to the ground and kissed the earth I wasn’t sure I’d see again. The others had left to go call off the rescue and so Tom, Shane and I gathered things up and as night began to fall tiredly began the walk out.





This is not an easy post to share, but I feel it’s necessary. First, to thank my teammates Tom, Shane, Robert, Todd and Steven, who I owe everything to. Secondly, to share with the community my mistakes to learn from.







A couple of quick thoughts.



It’s frightening how quickly small mistakes can cascade into an avalanche of disaster.



I was very tired- we’d pulled into Zion at 10 the night before, asleep by maybe 11 and up at 2 AM to get going for meeting people, driving to drop off points, etc. Not an excuse but if you know you’re going to be tired pay extra attention to everything you are doing.



Practice, practice, practice and then really dial it in. I’ve practiced ascending with my SOS kit, but come shit and fan time 280’ in the air and it ain’t the same thing. Same with losing the ropeman, I’ve used a Garda hitch countless times to tension webbing for slacklines, but never thought of it to replace my dropped ropeman until I wrote this report up.



Listen to your teammates, the yarding up suggestion was offered early but dismissed by me as impractical. I think largely out of ego as I felt that I’d gotten myself into this mess and I’d get myself out.



And most importantly, though it’s pretty damn basic, know which side of the rope you are blocking and which side you are rappelling on. After dropping the ten to fifteen feet of the rappel line down, the knot connecting rap to pull side was visually obscured and though I clearly thought I’d blocked the correct side a quick check from those below would have saved everyone a lot of stress and time.

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