Astro Dog is considered a mega-classic route in the Black Canyon.

The rock on Astro Dog is generally of very good quality except for the last couple pitches. The route offers stunning views in every direction, especially of the North Chasm View Wall. The climbing follows cracks mostly and some face pitches to give your hands and feet a rest.

The route is very sustained in the 5.10 grade and expect a number of 200' pitches. Also, expect an occasional runout and wide section. Route finding is a little tricky, but you more or less wander your way up the major weakness of the buttress. The two boulder bivy ledge located conveniently in the middle of the climb is a good place to spend the night.

It sleeps one very comfortably and the other spot is slightly less comfortable. The ledge is big enough to unrope and cook dinner on.

The rappels wander back and forth quite a bit and they are easy to miss. Some are very difficult to reach while rapping with a haulbag. It is possible to rap to the Two Boulder Bivy Ledge and climb up from there for a shorter day. To do this route in a day, it is recommended being fast at back to back ropestretcher pitches of 5.10.

Fortunately, the route is only in the sun for a couple hours in the morning.

Protection:

Double set of cams up to #3 Camalot + 1 #4 Camalot. Double set of stoppers and some RP's or offset nuts very useful for crux pitch. Two 60m ropes will get you to the bottom in one piece.

Crossing a Threshold: A Trip Report on the Black Canyon’s Astro Dog

As Dave and I drove late into the night along the Colorado back roads leading to the Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park, we enjoyed long stretches of silence punctuated by occasional conversation. Usually these were mini-discussions on last minute thoughts or strategies concerning the following day’s climb: Astro Dog:

Josh: “Are you going to tape?”

Dave: “Yeah, are you?”

Josh: “Yeah.”

A long silence would follow. Then something like:

Dave: “I’m thinking about wearing shorts. Are you?”

Josh: “Hell no – the route should be in the shade all day, and if there’s any typical Black Canyon thrutching, I’ll be glad for the knee protection. And, of course, if we end up spending the night....”

I’ve never had any problems bringing up taboo topics like being benighted or epic-ing. In fact, during the drive I’d occasionally break out in nervous laughter:

Dave: “What’s so funny?”

Josh: “You realize that once we do the raps we’re committed.”

Dave: “Yeah.”

Josh: “You realize that if something happens we’re fucked.”

Dave: “Yeah.”

Josh: “Well, I guess I just thought that was funny.”

More silence. The yellow lines on the road disappeared into the darkness ahead of us.

I thought about the raps – eleven double-rope rappels from the rim to the base. Then, quite simply, you have to get out – one way or another. If you can’t make it to the top of the climb the only other option is to rap back to the canyon floor, use the Tyrolean to get across the Gunnison River, slog up the Cruise Gully to the top of the North Rim, and then, hopefully, thumb a ride back to the South Rim and your car.

I had never done a climb on the South Rim, but a year ago I was driving through the area and had stopped to take in the view and scout out the chain anchor that marks the first of the Astro Dog rappels. For some strange reason, ever since then I had dreamed more of the raps than the climb itself! In my little fantasy I would finish the first rap and then begin pulling the ropes.

Then I’d pause for a moment to battle my second thoughts, when all of a sudden gravity would take over for me and the ropes would start sliding through the anchor out of my control. The end would whip through the chains with a loud “clink” and I’d snap back to reality with a sweaty palms and a little rush of adrenaline.

Every time I thought of this during the drive I’d let out a little giggle; Dave would ask “What?” and I’d reply, “Oh, nothing.”

I didn’t know if Dave was nervous or not, but if he was, he didn’t show it.

Dave’s watch alarm went off at some ungodly hour the next morning (man I’ve learned to hate the “Timex beeping”). We had already racked up the night before, so it was just a matter of stuffing our sleeping bags in his car, eating some food, putting our harnesses on. It was almost too fast: before I knew what was happening I was already 200’ below the rim and pulling the ropes. The act that I had relived so many times in my mind’s eye was strangely anticlimactic, but Dave took a photo anyway.

We spent the next two hours doing nothing but rappelling.

At the Two Boulder Bivy ledge (the route’s half-way point) we stashed a bulletpack with windshirts, pb & j’s, three liters of water, and… headlamps.

The “Dog” as it’s known, would easily be the biggest, hardest climb that either of us had attempted.  Despite it’s rating, V 5.11+ R, I was not in the least bit concerned that we would be unable to climb it – my primary concern was that there were no accidents.  My secondary concern, of course, was that we moved quickly, and for the first half of the day we did – easily cruising up several pitches of 5.10 jamming and laybacking. 

The climbing was spectacular: steep, flawless rock; committing and physical moves.  Halfway up one of these pitches I looked up just in time to dodge (literally!) the ends of two ropes that had been thrown from above.  I immediately looked down at Dave:

“What the hell is that all about!”  I was completely caught off guard and surprised that a party would actually be rapping down into the canyon so late in the day.

Dave shrugged and I decided to ask the source:

“What the hell!”

“Oh!  I’m so sorry man!”  A voice from above called down.

The climber was really sincere and apologetic – apparently they didn’t realize that that part of the rappel route was right over the climb itself.  As they came down to our position, we chatted briefly – it turned out that the climbers were none other than the offwidth master Ari Menitove and his partner, Chris?, both from Salt Lake City.  They were also heading to the base of Astro Dog.  As they continued with the raps, we resumed our course upwards.

Our first real challenge was the fourth pitch: 5.11 face climbing to gain a new corner system.  I had heard rumors about poor, fiddly gear and a lone, ¼-inch bolt protecting the crux moves.  However, I was relieved to be able to lace the pitch with small, but solid gear – gear onto which I would whip twice!  In retrospect the sequence was probably fairly easy, but I seemed unable to transition from the powerful style of the earlier pitches to the small, sloping holds of this pitch. 

The late morning sun was beating down and I was rushing and drenched in sweat, so after the second fall I took some time to catch my breath, relax, and try to focus.  After chalking up I was able to fire the pitch on my third try.  Dave followed and then led some nebulous 5.10 corners above.  I then led a long, horizontal bushwhack to the final pitch before the Two Boulder Bivy ledge.

This last pitch, at 5.11+, would be our second test – supposedly one of the hardest pitches on the route.  It was Dave’s lead, and even though he asked me if I wanted it, I told him it was all his.  In the recent weeks he’d sent several 5.11 test pieces in the Boulder area, and I was excited to see him go for it on such a big route… and he did! 

He launched up into the corner, stemming, jamming, and underclinging.  I could tell where the crux was by the volume of his grunts and shouts – but when they turned into a whoop of victory I knew it was over:  Dave had sent (perhaps his hardest onsight ever – on a grade V nonetheless)!  It was fantastic!

I was psyched to follow and felt strong cleaning the pitch – more high quality rock and climbing.  My confidence continued to solidify as Dave reeled me in to the bivy ledge.  We were half-way done with the climb.

On the ledge we unroped and kicked back for awhile – munching on sandwiches and chugging water.  It was 2:30 in the afternoon and I still felt we were making good time.  Meanwhile, Ari and his partner, who had been hot on our heels the whole day, were nowhere to be seen.  We had hoped to let them pass us at the ledge, but after a full half-hour break they still hadn’t arrived. 

The sun had now left the wall and we both were growing restless, so I racked up and started up the next pitch: a long, beautiful 5.10 corner.  Of course, no sooner had I stepped off the ground, then the other two guys poked their heads up onto the ledge.  “Well, they’re just going to have to deal with being behind us for now,” I thought, but since we were moving fast, I didn’t think they’d find it to be that much of an inconvenience.  I didn’t realize that that was all about to change.

Halfway up the 5.10 corner, Dave seemed to be struggling with what was relatively easy climbing.  When he asked for tension, I began to suspect something was wrong.  It turned out that during the thirty-minute break we had taken Dave’s impending exhaustion had finally caught up with him.  I wasn’t sure how bad it was until he took off on lead and then fully aided (without even attempting to free) the next pitch, a 5.10++ flare.