Ten minutes of steep herdpath hiking brought us to the first of the climbing. It was a spot I recognized from on-line descriptions, so I was now positive we were on the correct route.
We could see another group of three people in the process downclimbing this section. They didn't seem to have any climbing gear, but it looked steep enough to warrant it, so we decided that for our group it was time to break out the gear - harnesses, helmets, ropes. We waited until the other group had finished downclimbing and then started up.
courtesy RHanel
Getting ready for climbing
After a short approach chimney of 4th-class scrambling that didn't require a rope, we arrived at the harder bit - a steep slope of clean slickrock abutting a short wall. On the side opposite the wall was nothing. Nothing, that is, other than a slope that curved away into a cliff, in a rather exposed manner.
Exposed Moqui Steps
Fortunately, into the slope was carved a set of "Moqui steps" - foot-sized cutouts that turn a smeary climb into something with incut footholds. It would clearly make the little climb a lot easier, but we were not all unanimously for doing this section unprotected. So, out came the rope.
courtesy JInnes
Climbing the steps
Being belayed by myself, Roland led the way up the steps, putting in a piece or two of protection for good measure and for general practice. Then, one by one (and belayed by Roland from above) we climbed up the steps. After everyone else, when I finally got my turn to climb, it was obvious that this little climb was actually quite easy, and we had gone overboard with the gear and the rope. With a bit of caution and deliberation, it is very possible to do this without a rope. But, as they say, your mileage may vary.
courtesy AHyndman
courtesy JInnes
Arn, the desert mountaineer
Jenn, the desert mountaineer
Once atop the moqui steps section, the route returned to a half-scramble, half-herdpath affair. We stashed the rope and made decent time, following the fairly obvious path in places, and the signs of old step-cuts and worn rock in others. Occasionally there would be a faint yellow paint mark or arrow on a rock - a remnant of the official pre-1970s trail markings. There were plenty of reasonably "airy" spots, but nothing overwhelming if you had a reasonable head for heights.
courtesy JInnes
Twenty minutes of mostly hiking up a sloping and tree-dotted slope brought us to the base of the next obstacle - a very steep cascade of crack-crossed sandstone cliff, formed into a shallow but very steep gully. Following the signs of worn rock and occasional faint yellow paint, we started to climb almost vertically upwards.
Belaying at a steep spot
The initial bit of this climb consisted of a tricky little step with very eroded moqui steps. We boosted Roland up to the top of this and he dropped a hand-line down to us. Above this, the way remained very steep but easily-scramblable, with lots of ledges and holds with relatively minimal exposure. I knew from my research what was soon coming, though - the crux of the route: an exposed chimney climb.
Fifteen or so minutes of fun and easy scrambling brought us to an airy ledge that led seemingly to nowhere - it ended at a corner before a sheer slab of mountainside separated from the main mass by a big crack.
On closer inspection, though, we could see that the big crack was actually a fairly spacious chimney, more than wide enough to accommodate a person. This was the "second crux" of the Lady Mountain climb.
courtesy JInnes
I had researched this second crux as thoroughly as possible while back home before the trip. It looked daunting, but I knew from that research that it was in reality not as hard as it looked. I also knew that there were good places for belays and protection - something which eases the mind considerably.
With Roland and I being the most knowledgable about such things, the others waited and snacked while he and I set up the rope. A nice new hanger right near the base of the chimney made it a snap to set up the lower belay. I gave roland a couple of cams, and he soon set off on lead up the chimney (there was clearly a nice spot for a cam directly in the chimney)
Pausing on crux
Despite the exposure and the appearance of an overhang within the chimney, Roland completed the short climb into a flat spot within the chimney in only a couple of minutes, and soon he had set up a top belay on a bomber iron eyelet embedded in one of the chimney's walls.
After ferrying up the packs using the rope, we began to follow suit, climbing up on top-rope, belayed by Roland from above. Although several of the descriptions I read stated that this was a 5.7 climb, I don't think that's the case. It is several degrees, in my opinion, easier than that. Perhaps 5.3?
courtesy JInnes
courtesy JInnes
It was mentally nice to have completed what had been described as the hardest part of the climb. If everything after this was easier than that, then we were in good shape as far as being able to overcome the route's technical difficulties.
The time difficulties, on the other hand, were going to be harder to overcome: it was now 3:30pm, less than four hours from sunset - and we were only at 5350 feet - still a full 1600 feet below the summit. Things were looking tight.
courtesy AHyndman
From one brother to another
After another very quick snack break, we pushed on. The route, which had climbed steeply up to and through the chimney, now turned south, and started following mostly along the level across some ledgy terrain along Lady Mountain's eastern slopes. This section had looked quite daunting from below at the bus stop, but up here, it didn't seem so bad. As is often the case, I'll add.
Although the southward traverse was slightly airy in spots, you could tell that the sandstone had been carved and chopped to make foot passage easier. It didn't take very long (perhaps only fifteen minutes) to speed across these ledges and arrive at the third of the technical climbing bits on the route.