Two kids from CO show up at T-Wall one day talking smack about how they are leading .12 in the gym and .11+ at Table Mt, and btw, where are the bolted climbs? Had to tell'm, 'dudes, you are SOL. This is T-wall. You need a rack.' So they drive into Chattanooga, whip out daddy's AmEx, and buy one. All cams, no nuts. Then they're back and roping up below 'Golden Locks', a mega classic 5.8+ steep, splitter hand crack. To be fair to these guys, Golden Locks is in the latest rag as a notorious sandbag. That's a little overboard, but the start really is .9, and the rest burly for the grade. Anyway, the leader barely pulls through the start and then thrashes the rest the way up with much huffing and puffing and a considerable lack of grace. We figured he was going to test his new gear for sure, but he made it clean, so to speak. His brother, however, can't pull the start, and judging from the shouting from above the leader is semi-freaked and clueless about how he's going to get down, so I say, 'fuck it, I'll clean it for you.'
As impossible as it is to imagine for a deep hand crack in bullet rock, not a single one of the cams this guy has placed would have held a fall. When I get to the top I find the leader anchored to a dead pine sapling about 2" in diameter and a cam shoved under a detached microwave sized block. If I had thought I might have fallen I would have been seriously pissed. As it was, I kept my voice even and said 'we're going to go over to this other tree and rig a rappel. When we get down, you and your brother really need to think about learning what you're doing before you get killed, or worse, get me or someone else killed.' He didn't say anything but gave me a look like a whipped dog, resentment and all. They did leave though. Do wonder how daddy liked the AmEx bill.
