These are excerpts from my diary, April 15th thru April 28th 1996. I have put them together to create a short essay on my experiences on Desert Shield, an A3+ aid route in Zion National Park. It starts a few days before the climb.

April 15, 1996
I had a great day. I met three guys climbing by Touchstone, Andrew, Chip and Brian. We climbed some cool cracks. Some tourists came driving by in one of those long tour trains. The announcer pointed up to us and yelled to the crowd over his loud speaker, "Look, there are some climbers now!" All the people turned their eyes up to watch us, I wonder what they were thinking as they looked up.

April 16, 1996
I soloed the first two pitches of Touchstone today. It scared the shit out of me. I'm psyched that I did it. The river sparkles all day in the sun. It winds through the sea of green, spring plants and the deep orange, red canyon walls. The sandstone is amazingly beautiful.

This evening I sat in the field outside camp in my comfy therma-lounger chair. I listened to the wind and watched the stars, I felt more awake than I had in months. I saw the cool desert energy, dry and alive. Barely perceptible, but carried along by strong undercurrents. The ultimate stealth. No deceit, no good, no bad, just existing. Cool.

April 17, 1996
Andrew came by my camp last night and asked me to do Desert Shield because his partner bailed. Twist my arm.

April 21, 1996
I just climbed Desert Shield, A3+. Wow. Wow. I was so high for three days. I can't even explain the emotions I was experiencing 500', 600', and 1,000' off the ground. An overhang, sandstone wall. I cried, got mad and could do nothing except deal with it and move up with the absolute reality of it all.

The first day we jugged and hauled 300' over slabs and tried to haul. We got a late start so we set up the porta-ledge on the top of the fourth pitch. I led the fifth pitch and fell twice while trying to aid a stupid, thin and shallow crack. An HB#2 offset (a very small stopper) popped out while I was standing on it. I fell 10 feet into a shitty, icky gully before a zero (a very small Tri Cam Unit) caught me. I was shaking, so I got back up right away. The instant I weighted the zero TCU, that caught me on the first fall, it blew out and sent me flying another 10 feet onto a nice big rock. My kneepads were useless! Andrew yelled up, "What the hell are you doing up there?" I shouted back, "Don't yell at me when I'm falling." We laughed about it that night.

The next day, bright and early around 9:00 am. I started up the sixth pitch. Fucking scary. The wind was raging 30 mph, (we asked the Ranger two days later) the sixth pitch was a blank section, which followed an imaginary line around a corner and up onto the headwall of DS.

This pitch was manufactured by a tall guy who hated drilling bolts. (There were five decent ones.) All of his placements were just out of my reach. I had to get into the very top step of my aiders for nearly every move. I got good at balancing on a very steep and overhung wall. Most of the moves were sketchy. The rivets were loose, shifting and rusty. The holes they were drilled into have grown bigger as the sand had worn away. The rock is very weak here. Climbers impact is very obvious. The only other gear I could use were hooks. In between the rivets and bolts the first ascentionists drilled holes, which have little grooves in them for hooks. I guess they are called bathooks. I used talons for every move. (Talons look like their name.) There was one move where I was standing on talon, on my tippy toes in my aiders and I still couldn't reach the next rivet. I spent 20 minutes, blowing in the wind, trying to reach the damn thing. The two lower claws of the talon were a good centimeter away from the wall. If the groove had blown out I would have seen a 40+ foot whipper into space, 500' of the deck.

I didn't lead either of the next two pitches. I had had enough. We set up the ledge for me to hang out on while Andrew led the seventh pitch. I was psyched to lay on the eating yummy dried pineapples. I was so high from the intensity of the climb. I watched the glittering river down below and Andrew far above. The big, gray clouds blew over the canyon, occasionally sprinkling us with water and chilling us with their wind. They were always followed by the sun.

Spending the night on DS was amazing, it was freezing. The stars and satellites were very bright. The moon lit our faces and the haul-bag an eerie white. It was so perfect lying on the ledge, looking up at hundreds of feet of rock towering over us. Black rock framed the deep blue of the sky creating a picture I can't remember ever seeing in my life.

The last day we did the last two pitches and rapped off. I got the summit pitch, which led to a nice sized ledge. When we stumbled to the van. My friend Dave greeted us with a super huge bowl of pasta salad, veggies, and cantaloupe. Yummy!

June 16, 1996
As I think back I smile. I'll never forget that wall. I can't wait for fall in Yosemite!

-- Liz Scully, Mountain Zone Pubster