Photo courtesy of Collin Kilkenny
Climber Collin Kilkenny celebrates at the 11,884-foot summit of Pingora in Wyoming's Wind River Mountains. Kilkenny has been climbing since he was in high school.

Climb of his life

Activity helps climber test limits, hone skills; of his

N.S. NOKKENTVED, THE OLYMPIAN

Originally published Tuesday, March 12, 2002

The three climbers were halfway up the 600-foot sandstone wall when they lost their nerve. Collin Kilkenny, 26, now of Olympia, and two friends set out in November 1999 for a rock climbing trip to southern Utah's Zion National Park.

November is late in the year for a climb. The season normally kicks off in spring and continues as long as the weather cooperates.

They had picked a route up the vertical rock wall where climbing meant hanging from ropes attached to a variety of rock anchors.

"It was a poor choice," said Kilkenny, who at the time was working as a climbing guide in Laramie, Wyo. He had honed his skills climbing cracks -- wedging himself, his feet or hands in cracks in the rock and using ropes only for protection if he fell.

The route known as Space Shot, however, required "full-aid climbing," in which the climber hangs from a rope attached to small metal devices -- such as cams, nuts, pitons and bolts -- driven into the rock face or set in a crack. He sets another device higher up, attaches the rope and hoists himself a little higher, slowly working his way up the wall.

It's physical, "blue-collar climbing," just steady work, Kilkenny said of that way of essentially building a ladder up the wall. It's also a test of nerves. If the device placement is good, you are OK. If the device does not hold, you fall to the one below -- hopefully it will hold you, he said.

The sandstone they were climbing was softer than Kilkenny had expected. They were about halfway up the wall, approaching a point of no return when a couple of protection devices pulled out -- resulting in a couple of falls.

"I was scared," he said.

In climbing, you have to trust yourself and the people you are climbing with. When he felt he no longer trusted himself, he knew it was time to quit.

"We learned a lot about ourselves on that trip," said Kilkenny, who now works at Olympic Outfitters in downtown Olympia.

To salve their wounded egos, the three took off for Black Velvet Canyon in the Red Rocks National Conservation Area, about 20 miles west of Las Vegas.

The route they chose is called Epinephrine -- for the adrenaline rush it gives climbers -- and featured a lot of cracks, something Kilkenny felt more comfortable with but still a challenging 1,500-foot climb.

Kilkenny and a partner loaded a small pack with water and snacks. The third member decided to sit out the climb. The two set out at 4 a.m. They moved fast and light, climbing all day. At 7 p.m. they were at the top.

"It was awesome," Kilkenny said.

A completed climb is a point of success, Kilkenny said. It gives him a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction in addition to -- in this case -- the beautiful view of red stone canyon walls.

Kilkenny has been climbing since he was a junior in high school in Redlands, Calif., east of Los Angeles.

When he was a child, his father took the family to a different national park every summer. Kilkenny was 8 when they went to Yosemite National Park. Though he has not been back, he still remembers it and has ambitions to go back to do some climbing.

In 1994, he moved to Laramie to study economics at the University of Wyoming. During his seven years in Wyoming, Kilkenny taught himself rock climbing.

"I met some good climbers," he said. "People who enjoyed the sport and enjoyed pushing themselves." They pushed Kilkenny to hone his technical skills.

But his favorite activity is remote climbing, such as Pingora, an 11,884-foot peak in the Cirque Towers of the Wind River Mountains in western Wyoming. It is a long drive on back roads, followed by a 10-mile hike to Pingora, one of 50 classic climbs in North America.

"I got to see the view from the top," he said.

And speaking of remote, his ambition is the 2,500-foot climb up Lotus Flower Tower in the Cirque of the Unclimbables in the Logan Mountains of Canada's Northwest Territories. The only way in is by bush plane.

While living in Laramie, Kilkenny met his wife, Angie. The two now have a son, Sean, who is 2. The responsibility of a family has slowed him down. He used to climb three days a week, but last year he climbed three days, he said.

Since he moved to Washington less than two years ago he has found some places that offer challenging climbs that can be done in a single day -- an important consideration for a man with a wife and child.

N.S. Nokkentved covers the outdoors for The Olympian. He can be reached at 360-754-5445 and at nnokkent@olympia.gannett.com.

Climbing resources

- For information on climbing classes and group climbs, check out the Mountaineers Web site at www.mountaineers.org.

- For climbs and classes in Oregon, check out the Mazamas Web site at www.mazamas.org.

- For books on rock climbing and rock climbing routes, see the Falcon Books Web site at www.globe-pequot.com.

The Olympian Copyright 2002

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