I recently dashed over to the west side as soon as one of the three major passes between here (Crowley Lakes, CA on the east side) and there (the promised land) opened up. The first pass to open is usually Monitor Pass (Rt. 89) which is a long northern hook over beyond the high peaks to the west side. I was prepared for a long drive but got lucky. When I reached the intersection with Rt. 4 that heads over Ebbetts Pass I saw the gate was open. But was the pass open? Venturing along in hopes of meeting someone I could ask I was stopped by none other than a construction detail flagman. “Yep, all clear,” he boasted proudly. “Just opened it!”

At “only” 8750 ft the pass isn’t as high as Sonora at 9000 or Tioga at 10,000. Those two wouldn't be open for another week. Tioga maybe later. The drive over the mountains was a spectacular one. Eight foot banks of rotary plowed snow walled the road along narrow, steep and intensely severe switchbacks. Streams and backwater pools bathed the tarmac most of the way. It was wild. Sawed off stubs of blow downs punctuated the roadside. Fresh pine needles and sawdust littered the road, pine scent clung richly to the air. Testimony to the effort to open this passage.

Coming from the arid, barren, brown, sage dominated east side in the rain shadow of the Sierras to the lush, verdant, lichen matted west side was like a reincarnation. GREEN like I hadn’t ever experienced before. Greener than the green of New England in spring. My god, green grass as tall as a two year old. Fields, hillsides, broad pastures of green. Grass and oak trees for acres. Broad, aged, wizened oaks. Grass right up to their trunks. This must be heaven. I wanted nothing but to lie down and swim in the lushness of it all.

The highway, as if sensing my drunken, inebriated sensually overloaded condition wound dizzily down toward the Central Valley. Just before depositing me into that steam room of California’s most fertile and productive farmland, Sonora and the Mother Lode country is encountered. Sutter’s Mill, Angel’s Camp and Jamestown. All boom towns during the California days of ore and continuing to produce gold even today. Here, just south of Copperopolis along O’Byrnes Ferry Rd (Rt. E15) is the Stanislaus River and the serene locale of Jailhouse Rock so named for a nearby state correctional institute. I was to meet a friend here who would be taking me up to this crag to sample its delicacies.

Leaving the cars at the end of a one lane bridge we hiked uphill through lush grass and wild flowers. Past a gray fox den (tenants absent unfortunately) and a sign advising discretion, cleanliness and above all discretion. The trail wound upward across talus to a huge, looming concavity of basalt that looked like limestone. Birds of all kinds; vultures, hawks, swifts, gulls and terns, wheeled and dove over our heads and past us as if in disregard of our presence. The river below, the green, the wild flowers, the cool shade that hung with us ‘till 2:30 at this time of year, the play of bird life, lent a magical air to the place.

Our warm up route on the right side of the crag and the easiest route on the whole wall is 11d. My partner, long familiar with the routes at Jailhouse, and the creator of most of the lines, strolled the 11d, maintaining a stream of conversation every step of the way. “ Aw, the ratings must be soft here,” I thought. “I think I'll lead this one,” I announced. “Well, Steve, maybe you should toprope it first just to familiarize yourself with the climbing and to see what the rock is like. After all, I’ve done this route countless times.” Sensing a bit of a hint I followed his advise. Talk about a fight to the finish. “Gasp!” I made it! Just barely. A TR flash I could be proud of. Glad I hadn’t tried to lead that. I kept my rope up on this one and TR’d it once more. Now THAT wasn’t so bad. Knowledge is a great thing. The climbing reminded me of Rifle. Very hard to onsight. Hidden holds. Technical moves. "The knee pad was invented here,” my friend boasted as he pulled his on for an ascent of his creation upon a creation. His PROJECT. Possibly a 14a extension of his 13a. A realm of ascent I couldn’t even imagine. I held his rope as he maneuvered above me on the ceiling through the side pulls, knee bars, underclings and dead points to the anchors of his 13a only to be facing the gauntlet of his own making. The extension. Ten meters of body wrenching scums and pinches. The self inflicted crucible into which he poured his heart and soul every day he came here which has been at least two days a week throughout the winter.

My friend didn’t attain Nirvana this day. Grimacing up at the stretch of hard yardage, his “red zone”, he shook a clenched fist defiantly, stating that he’d never let a climb defeat him before and he wasn’t about to start with this one. Lesson well taken. Somewhat schooled and humbled I returned with renewed resolve to another 11d. An “easier” 11d “some say” I was told. I strapped onto the sharp end for my historic on- sight. A climb for the record books I imagined. Ha, ha. Joke’s on you, shorty.

“Nice job” I heard as I finessed my way past the initial stiff bit thinking that I’d already put this one away. “Now for the crux”. Six lunges later I squeaked past the dead point and had the chains in my grasp. Yeowzah! That was brutal. Scary to boot. “You gotta red point it now,” I heard. Not me. Not this one. That first one, however. That’s one I would like a rematch with.

If you climb twelves this is the crag. Stacks of quality hard routes in a grand setting. Sunny and warm throughout the winter when the sun is in the south yet shaded and cool in the spring and fall when the sun is more to the west. Very overhung much like the Motherlode at Red River Gorge.

The crag is on private land. Access is at the discretion and benevolence of the land owner who would definitely not approve of this article. He will not allow any publication of information to Jailhouse Rock in the mags nor in a guide which is why it doesn’t appear in the recent A Climber’s Guide to the Sonora Pass Highway by Brad Young of which more in your next installment of On The Road. But this is going out to climbers 3000miles away and the routes are so hard I don’t think there’ll be a “rush” of crazies bent on mining the ‘lode into submission. Once you’ve done the two 11d’s the next route on your hit list checks in at 12b. A quick show of hands, please. How many of you out there regularly climb 12b and better? . . . . .Hey, Ward and Paula. How you doin’? I didn’t think you read this column. This place has got your name on it. Check it out.

The Real Skinny

I'll save the details of the nearby towns for the next OTR. The beta you need to know for Jailhouse is where to camp. Unlike the east side there are no broad expanses of open public land on which to make yourself at home. This western side is a lot like New England. It’s all private. Stealth camping is about the best I can offer. No tents. No campfires. Arrive late, leave early, sleep inside your vehicle and turn off the boom box.

At the south end of Obyrnes Ferry Rd turn right (west) onto Rt. 120/108. In three miles turn left onto La Grange Rd. An immediate left leads down a frontage road that tucks next to the highway and is out of sight. Alternatively, after turning onto La Grange, go a quarter of a mile to just before RR tracks cross the road. Take a right here onto Green Springs Rd. and your first left in about 50 yards onto a dirt road between two posts that will lead to a small spot next to the tracks.

If you’re only spending a day at Jailhouse then it would be better to camp at Table Mt. in Jamestown. Access is described in the Sonora guide.

Pull Down!