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Climbing Fine Jade 5.11

For our second assignment of the trip, we set our eyes back on the Rectory. A monumental cliff across from Castleton tower that houses Fine Jade, a fabulous continuous crack system. Again with our school theme, I would be taking this class for the first time, but John was having to retake it. You see, we had already groveled up this talus cone before. In early 2022 during normal business hours, I found myself dreaming of being anywhere in the vertical. Like always. Using a "destination anywhere" feature on my phone I discovered that you can fly directly in to Moab! With a planners high, I called my buddy John and minutes later tickets were purchased. John’s first flight. We would leave Friday afternoon and return Sunday afternoon. Total smash and (hopefully) grab. 4 hours PTO. If you know John, you know he has a massive appetite when it comes to climbing. I usually take a realistic approach to what we can do. But John has a very optimistic outlook. Glorious failure is his M.O. But it often pays off for him! Dudes been crushing. For this trip, since we only had one full day he set a goal for us to climb both Fine Jade and The North Face of Castleton. Two 5.11 tower climbs with various sizes of cracks on rock that was completely foreign to us. We board the smallest commercial plane I’ve ever seen and both get window seats. About halfway through the flight I notice some commotion. It’s freaking John. Dude got sick but didn’t know about the vomit bags. He straight up pulls his bucket hat off and pukes into it. Legend. Squeezing out of the plane we find ourselves at the smallest airport I’ve ever seen. It’s really just a glorified parking lot with a fence around it and one small building. Our luggage was just sitting on the tarmac. We grab it and walk through a chain link gate. Having spent all of our money on the flight, renting a car was not an option. And guess what? No Ubers or even Lime scooters are available in Moab. So we hit the forums! I goat loving stranger offered to chauffeur us around for the next 44 hours in exchange for a couple cams. After chatting with the coolest custodian we’ve ever met, a Honda fit skiiiirts through the parking lot with goat figurine swinging from the rear view mirror. Out pops a giant of a man, with gravity defying hair and leather hands. He’s real! On his head was a tourist hat he had found in Estes Park that he cut down to be a visor with toenail clippers probably. Under it was a lung dart and a beaming face. Looking up, we asked how tall he was. To which he answered, “about 5.10a.” We open the doors to his 6’ long car and an overwhelming smell hits us. Gilibertos! Our new favorite Mexican restaurant. He had brought us their Super Fries and some other hatch green chili delicacies. Upon the removal of a sleep system, a third seat was revealed. Turns out I was the first person to ever sit there. After doing the most rubber necking of my life, we arrive in the Castle Valley camping area. Here he had set up a complete camp site for us: sleeping pads, cooking area, and a haul of water. Full on red carpet. We pound some water and hit the moonsand. A mere five hours later we begin the slog. I’m carrying a giant desert spec bladder of team water and John’s got our bouquet of cams with that nasty bucket hat on his head. When we arrive to the base we drop our packs and almost fly away. The wind is blowing us harder than an Okie tornado. John, still feeling sick from the flight, scurries off to create an ultra light bowel system. I find a little shelter from the wind and make an amateur set of tape gloves. One hour later John pulls onto the first pitch of Fine Jade. A steep thin hands crack gate keeps the route and is one of the two cruxes. After a valiant effort of fighting wind, fear, and lactic acid, John calls take. He eventually crawls his way to a rackless harness just 10’ from the anchors. He tugs on the rope and it won’t move. It’s stuck on a cam lobe in the roof. We epic for a minute and get John back on the ground. Meanwhile a more experienced pair was watching. Embarrassed, I asked them if they’d like to climb through our junk show. To which they did, in a similar valiant effort. By now, a goat loving friend of ours had arrived with a dozen donuts and a dozen sparkling wheat sodas. The crag angel made his rounds to the other routes, rewarding those who attempted to climb in these conditions. With donuts on taped fingers, we watch the party above us. They had just reached the anchors and decided it was too windy to continue. On the rappel, their ropes flew completely horizontal and wrapped around the tower. Fortunately they made it down safely and advised us to not go up there. Sounds good to me! Over the next year, this lack of glory tormented John. He was wounded, and Fine Jade was his assailant. He swore to the tower, “I will be back, and if I live, I will kill you. If I die, you are forgiven.” Such is the rule of honor.