Dark Angel
By Julie, julierich2@hotmail.com
Climbing a rock tower in Utah's Canyon Country

"Be ready by five, we need an early start." The words were still ringing 
in my ears when the alarm went off in the pre-dawn darkness.  

No sooner had I pulled on my sweats than I heard the snarl of Spider's 
Porsche Carrera outside.  I grabbed my equipment bag, threw it in the 
back and off we went.  I was still annoyed about his mysterious attitude 
regarding where we were going but would never turn down one of his 
climbing expeditions.  He had me hooked and he knew it.

Spider writes a column for a leading sports magazine and is well known 
for his rock climbing exploits.  He asked me to come along for a photo 
shoot but wouldn't tell me a thing about where we were going or what we 
would be climbing.

"How will I know what equipment to bring?" I remembered asking.

"Just bring clothing and personal climbing gear, I'll handle everything 
else."

Driving north on the 405 freeway I assumed we were heading for the South 
Sierra, but when we turned off on National Blvd. I knew he had something 
else in mind.  We pulled up to a hanger on the Santa Monica airport near 
two men loading equipment on a big Cessna twin.

"Julie, I'd like you to meet Hank our pilot and Wayne our photographer."

"Ok Spider, tell me now.  Where are we going?" I demanded leaning on the 
wing of the sleek Cessna.

"Moab Utah, Canyon Country.  We're going to do some desert climbing.  
It's beautiful country and we should get some great pictures."

Flying east into the rising sun, Spider briefed me on the trip.

"Climbing soft desert sandstone is a lot different than the hard granite 
you are used to in the Sierras, Julie. It's a bit scary at first but 
you'll soon get used to it. The equipment we brought is a new line 
specially designed for desert climbing.  The manufacturer calls the 
line 'Dark Angel' after the famous tower in Arches National Park."

"And you thought the name fit me!  I almost said out loud. 

My mind wandered over stories of the famous Utah towers that we were 
about to visit.  These spectacular monuments have names like Pale Fire, 
Lightning Bolt and Shark's fin.  Routes like Crack Attack, King Cat and 
Six-shooter are legendary in the climbing world.  Many of the first 
climbs were only accomplished in the seventies and eighties when free 
climbing techniques and equipment were developed for the task.

The big Cessna twin touched down in a cloud of dust on a short desert 
runway.  Two men with jeeps were waiting for us and we soon had our gear 
on board and were bouncing along on a rough dirt road.  When we ran out 
of road, the jeeps continued up a dry riverbed between sheer sandstone 
cliffs.  Just when I thought there was no way to continue, we broke out 
on top of a mesa with a spectacular view all around.  Straight ahead was 
a sheer rock needle going up at least two hundred feet into the 
cloudless sky.

"Holy shit," I exclaimed straining my neck to see the summit.

"You have half of the name right," Spider chuckled.  "The first guys to 
climb it decided there were spires named after every other member of the 
deity so they called this one Holy Ghost."

The two jeep drivers began hauling our gear to the base of the rock 
while Wayne, who hadn't spoken the entire trip, busied himself dusting 
off his camera equipment.

"Would the model please don the costume," he said to no one in 
particular.

"Where did you find this guy?" I whispered to Spider.

"He's one of the best outdoor photographers in Hollywood," Spider 
whispered back, "And he's the only one I know of who climbs."

 Spider pulled a small piece of black spandex out of his kit and handed 
it to me.

"Would you go put this on?"

"Please," he added when I looked ready to shove it up his ass.

I walked behind a rock for privacy and eyed the tiny square of fabric 
suspiciously.  With a sigh I stripped naked and tried to stretch it over 
my body.  The result looked like something out of a Broadway show from 
hell. The outfit was solid black with bright red satanic looking symbols 
up and down the arms and legs.  It was cut low in the bodice and came 
half way down my calves and forearms.  Light and cool, it fit like a 
second skin.  

"What kind of an idiot would climb in this?" I asked walking back to the 
group.

"The kind of idiots who buy our magazine," Spider replied.

"Charming," Wayne chimed in as he draped me artistically with strange 
looking climbing hardware from the Dark Angel line dangling from 
colorful slings.  

Satisfied with the results he ground a roll of film through his big 
motor driven Hasselblad while I jangled around striking poses.

I spent the next half-hour solo climbing around on the lower rock faces 
using the ridiculous hardware while Wayne directed me and shot pictures 
with his big camera.  

"Enough of this shit," I finally yelled to Spider, "I'm getting out of 
this stupid outfit.  I came here to climb!"

Ok, Julie, go change and I'll set up the equipment."

I peeled off the Ninja suit and dressed in my preferred climbing outfit, 
short shorts and a light cotton blouse tied around my breasts. 

When I walked back, Spider handed me a couple of slings of more 
traditional gear and said, "It's your rock, Julie, lead on."

"The first pitch is a 5.13 d, about sixty feet to that ledge.  You'll 
need a lot of finger technique working the crack so better tape up.  
It's smearing technique on the traverse and you will need to do some 
mantling to get up on the ledge.  Place quickdraws on small nuts up the 
crack then go for the ledge without protection.  Place a cam there and 
bring me up."

The crack was hand and finger widths and I worked slowly but steadily 
keeping my hands dry with lots of chalk.  The traverse was another 
matter.  Keeping my heels low I started working my way across using 
occasional palm holds.  About half way over I found myself slipping on 
the soft sandstone.

"Falling," I yelled but Spider was ahead of me working the belay and had 
already taken up most of the slack.

On my second try I applied better hand technique and managed to get my 
fingers onto the ledge.  I chinned myself then hoisted my torso over and 
scrambled onto a three-inch ledge a little over a foot wide.

Spider came up quickly and soon we were both standing on the tiny ledge.

"Next pitch is a 5.13 a with an overhang.  Go slow and use lots of 
protection." He instructed.

For this pitch I carried a selection of camming devices known as 
Friends.  Invented by a climber called Ray Jardine in the seventies, 
this was one of the breakthroughs that started the free climbing 
revolution. 

In free climbing, only hand and foot holds are allowed for the ascent.  
Bolts and pitons driven into the rock cannot be used to pull a climber 
up.  For protection from falling, wedges are strategically placed along 
the climbing route and a rope is threaded through karabiners.  A partner 
belays the climber and takes up slack in the rope if she falls.  Free 
climbing is different from free solo climbing which is done without a 
rope or other protection. 

Overhangs are fun and I always get a thrill out of dangling from tiny 
hand and foot holds over nothing but a hundred feet in the air.  At one 
point I let my body rest while I hung by one arm and winked at Spider 
standing far below on the tiny ledge handling the belay.  It took me two 
tries to get over the lip of the overhang but I was starting to get a 
feel for climbing on soft sandstone.

After working several more pitches, I gradually got used to climbing on 
soft rock and started moving with much more confidence. With the summit 
finally in sight, I stood looking up in awe at a smooth featureless 
wall. 

"Last pitch, Julie, This one's a dynamo. No stopping, no slowing down 
and no turning back.  If you fall I won't be able to stop you.  You'll 
go two hundred and sixty feet onto the rocks."

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

Dynamo is slang for a feature that requires dynamic climbing techniques.  
The climber uses her body's inertia or momentum to achieve holds that 
would otherwise be out of reach or not support her weight.  

I looked up at a crack in sheer rock hardly more than a finger wide that 
seemed to disappear about twenty feet above my head.  It reappeared 
about ten feet higher and then ended again about four feet from the 
summit in a six-inch overhang.  

Trying to memorize every detail of the face, I went over each move in my 
mind.  There would be only one chance to do this right.  A single 
mistake and I would be dead.

Protection wouldn't do me any good on this pitch.  It was strictly a 
rock scramble.  Free Solo.

"Here, hold my iron." I said handing Spider my sling, "I won't need any 
of this up there and I certainly don't need the weight."

Working the lower crack drained my energy.  Even with tape, the rock 
tore at my hands and my fingers were bleeding.  The gap was next and I 
made a wild lunge for a handhold far beyond my reach.  Miss this one and 
my battered body would be splashing on the rocks below.  It was a pinkie 
hold and I hoped a single finger would support my weight.  The hold was 
painful but on the next one I got four fingers in the crack and felt 
better. 

 I quickly worked my way up to the overhang and faced the moment of 
truth.  A blind grab for a handhold over the lip and no way to know if 
one existed.  My right hand lashed out and slid across smooth sandstone.  
I was falling.  Another wild grab and I found a slight ridge and held 
on.  I let go with my left hand and made a wild grab for anything that 
would stop my fall.  Another tiny ridge and I had it made.  My breasts 
scraped over the rock as I struggled to pull myself up but I was 
oblivious to the pain.

 I twisted my torso and rolled out on top. With hardly the energy to 
work a belay I set a wedge and brought Spider up.  I was relieved when 
his head finally popped over the ledge and he rolled out beside me.  
Exhausted, I just lay back on the smooth rock and let out a sigh of 
relief. 

As I lay there in the warm sun with my eyes closed I could feel Spider's 
hand on the inside of my thigh. I untied my blouse and enjoyed the 
feeling of the cool breeze on my naked breasts.  When he unbuttoned my 
shorts I arched my back as he slid them down my long legs.  I felt a 
thrill run up my spine as he stroked my moist sex with his firm hand.  
He gently spread my thighs and I wrapped my legs around his hips as I 
felt his huge member slide slowly into my body.  I eagerly met his 
thrusts as wave after wave of an orgasm swept over my body and the 
tension of the climb melted away.  When we were both completely 
satisfied and he exploded inside me our bodies relaxed and we lay side 
by side on the warm rock. 

"Did you find a rappelling bolt up here, Julie, I see you did the belay 
with a wedge."  Spider was lying on his side, perched on one elbow and 
teasing my sensitive nipples with his finger.

"No I didn't, I was wondering about that."

"I know this rock has never been free climbed and I'm willing to 
challenge the guys that say they did an assisted climb back in the 
eighties.  I didn't find any evidence of climbing iron on the top half 
of the rock and they would certainly have left some marks.  I think you 
have a first ascent, Julie.  Would you like to place the bolt?" 

"Hand me the hammer," I said pulling my shorts back on and tying my 
blouse.

Normally a sturdy anchor bolt is driven into solid rock at the top of a 
climb.  It's traditional for the first climber to place the bolt and 
then use it to rappel down.  Subsequent climbers use the same anchor 
until it rots away and a new bolt is placed.

Rappelling down is the reward for all the sweat and pain of climbing up.  
I set my harness and after a final look around at the magnificent 
scenery, kicked off into space. 

Once on the ground, Spider chatted with the jeep drivers.  "You guys 
head back to the plane.  Leave us a jeep and we'll join you later."

"Don't be too long, the plane can't take off after dark," one of the men 
cautioned him.

We bounced along a dirt road across the trackless desert until I saw 
what looked like a strip of green in the distance.  As we got closer I 
could make out trees and we pulled up behind some boulders surrounded by 
a mixture of Cottonwood and Sycamore.

"Through there Julie," Spider pointed me to a well warn path into the 
trees and rocks.

It was a beautiful pool about a hundred yards from the Colorado River 
and fed by a small waterfall that seemed to come right out of a vertical 
cliff.  I stood on a huge bolder and looked down into the deep clear 
water.  Not waiting for an invitation, I stripped my clothes off and did 
my best swan dive into the pool.  The water was ice cold but once I got 
over the shock to my system it felt great.  I swam, dove and swam some 
more until I was shivering from the cold. 

This time I initiated the sex.  Spider was lying back against a rock in 
the sun when I walked up wet cold and naked.  I put my hands on his hips 
and slid his shorts down until his erect member sprang out to greet me.  
I held his huge tool in my hands and guided it home then pressed my 
whole body against his.  He doubled over at the shock of feeling my cold 
skin and we rolled down onto the sand.  I came out on top and straddling 
his hips, pumped up and down until he started meeting my strokes.  We 
finally lay exhausted beside each other in the sand.

I found myself back on the last pitch of Holy Ghost.  I was reaching for 
a handhold, any handhold, anything.  I was desperate, I knew I was going 
to fall, I was falling.  Noooo!  I was grabbing for air, thrashing 
around, desperate and knew I was going to die!

The men on the ground saw a dark object in the sky.  They saw arms and 
legs thrashing around and heard me scream.

SLAM!

I was on the ground dead.  My soft voluptuous body lying there 
completely naked was broken and bleeding.  Pale blue sightless eyes 
stared up into the sky from my expressionless face.  Blood trickled from 
the side of my half open mouth.

Wayne was walking around taking pictures.  He was draping my dead body 
with Dark Angel climbing equipment and taking more pictures.  My ripe 
firm full voluptuous breasts topped with big pink nipples were the 
center of his attention.

"Come on Julie," Spider was shaking me gently, "We need to get back 
before dark in order to take off."

I looked down at my small breasts and nearly flat chest and gave a deep 
sigh.

"Were you having a nightmare?" He asked.

"No, just a pleasant dream," I replied. 

The big Cessna kicked up a huge cloud of dust as we roared off the dirt 
runway and into a beautiful desert sunset.  Colors from bright orange to 
deep purple spread across the sky as day turned into night.  Spectacular 
scenery faded into darkness as the plane climbed for altitude.   Soon 
the only things visible in the darkness were the headlights of cars on 
the highway below and lights from the occasional farmhouse.

"I hope you're ready for some publicity, Julie," Spider finally spoke.  
"I'll talk to my editor but I think your climb will be the cover feature 
of our next issue."

"My picture on every news stand in the country dressed in that stupid 
outfit?" I asked incredulously.

"That's show biz," he replied.

Julie