Climbing pot-pipes? Hanggliders? Texas climbing legend James Crump tells a tale like no other. This story is no exception. Be ready to laugh - and be shocked - in disbelief as this larger-than-life Texas climbing tale unfolds.
It was January 1976, in Austin, Texas. I was sixteen with a brand new paper driver's license! It was my license of liberty, finally to be able to drive! Drive! Drive out to Enchanted Rock - and everywhere else - instead of having to depend on others for a ride. Since I was 11, and first touched that stone, I had a desperate need for someone, to take me there. It’s hard to be underaged and have a climbing compulsion.
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I climbed my first mountain when I was four - Lassen Peak in California - when my father was on leave from the Navy. As I competed with my two older brothers, my father said I was a “fine little mountaineer" - that was stamped on my brain like a brand.
At the tender age of 14, I was introduced to real climbing by crossing paths with Jimmy Dunn, Daniel McClure, and Billy Westbay in the Black Canyon of Colorado. And, then I crossed paths with Molly Higgins in the Boulder Field, after her ladies' ascent of D7 on the Diamond (I had my own terrorized storm-harried retreat from that route 2 days later). Climbing drove every thought, effort, and action - well, at least those that weren’t diverted by girls... and Austin’s armadillo-country rock party... and Lake Travis…and sneaking my dad’s sailboat out with girls… and nude rock climbing with girls... Austin, Texas in 1976 was an interesting time. School was like being in a jail - oppression and boundaries, rules - and having a driver's license meant freedom, like wild mustangs breaking the corral! At that age of testosterone, mixed with a still-developing brain - and, perhaps, a little bit of weed - we did not have a clear understanding of the difference between rules and laws. Our value system was, “Will we git away with it?” It was a lot like running it out before we learned to drill bolts. |
The summit of Lassen Peak, 1964, with my father Frank Crump. Left to right, my brother Russell, me (age 4), and my brother David. (Credit: Beverly Crump)
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But, despite all those diversions, we did manage to plan - considering every careful detail - for the upcoming summer's expedition to summit the Diamond of Long's Peak in Colorado. Teddy Joe and I wanted to nab it after our epic retreat of D7 in 1974, where there were storms and ice in North Chimney, hail and rock fall cutting ropes, and ropes cutting fingers. It was epic enough to make us want more.
We were going back and were going to be ready this time!
We were going back and were going to be ready this time!
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In preparation, we packed for our training trip as if we were headed to the Diamond - haul bags, Forrest single-anchor hammocks, a full rack of pins, from rurps and knife blades to angles and bongs, pulleys, belay plates, jummars, wedges, runners and prusik slings.
We were going to our "local crag", Enchanted Rock's Buzzard's Roost, which, at that time was a privately-owned park managed by the Moss Family. There were a couple of hard aid climbs, and even a first aid-ascent, that we were planning to work on in preparation for Long's. Shrike, an A4, was a terrifying, overhanging thin crack that has a razor-sharp granite guillotine at the base - poised to cut you in half if you fall (I later freed the first ascent on tiny wires in 1989 - it went at 5.12c R). Then there was the never-climbed overhanging dihedral, Fear of Flying, which starts off with a 3-inch crack then goes wide (which I freed in 1977). It was a daunting but worthy battlefield for our shakedown-training-outing. It was winter and the weather made it like alpine-real. We planned, packed, and dressed accordingly. I wore my wool knickers, my knee-high red snow flake socks, my long underwear, and a wool sweater and cap. I also had on my red chamois shirt - like the climber dude in the REI catalog - along with blue climbing boots made by Handweg and Teddy Joe’s Royal Robbins blue suede aid boots. I was 16 and proudly sported a lion's mane of defiant, long hair and a full, full beard. Teddy Joe looked like Charles Manson. |
James Crump when he did Casual Route on Long's Peak in a day, 1980. (Credit: David Head)
Author James Crump in 1978 (18-years old) - looking not much different than his 16-year-old "lion's mane of defiant, long hair and a full, full beard." (Credit: James Crump Collection)
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James Crump on the first free ascent of Fear of Flying (5.10) in July 1977. (Photo Credit: Jeff Gilkey)
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James Crump on the first free ascent of Shrike (5.12c R), 1989. (Photo Credit: Robert Price)
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In addition to our sporty climbing gear and garb, we had a pot water pipe that would climb 50 feet of 5mm perlon rope at the flip of a switch - a climber's elevator-pot-delivery system, if you will.
For our Enchanted Rock expedition, my father had approved the use of his 1969 International Harvester Travel-all truck.
For our Enchanted Rock expedition, my father had approved the use of his 1969 International Harvester Travel-all truck.
The Climbing Pipe
This was probably the biggest, most revolutionary event my life could imagine at that moment. Me, a driver's license, a truck full of climbing gear, buddies, and beer - and other stuff...like an ounce of quality from the Reagan High-school dealer, an impressive selection of pipes, from one hitters you could carry in your pocket to a bong for the campfire party - all driving to Enchanted Rock! We even had Teddy Joe's very special climber's water pipe.
Teddy Joe first showed me his design for his shop-class project. He described it with great enthusiasm. It would have a motor and climb a cord! He thought of everything - fully accessorized with snap-in bowl covers, a built in lighter, and, yes, it would climb the cord that fed across a cog driven by little electric motor.
Teddy Joe waved his hands as he described the use-case for the pipe. "Image this," he said, "you are hanging at one anchor and I'm at the other. What if we want to smoke a bowl? How do we pass the pipe?" I shrugged my shoulders.
"Well," he continued, "the pipe, with all the fixings - built-in lighter and a bowl cover to protect the goods - would traverse a cord between us." I cracked-up. This was some special sort of brilliance mixed with crazy. But his schematics were very specific and complete, and I'd be damned that Teddy Joe built it in high school shop and earned an A. It was included in our rig.
Yeeepiiii!
The start of the adventure was a cloudy and grey day with a light drizzle for our drive out Bee Caves road and Highway 71. Fog grew as we punched west. The weather did not deter us, as they mimicked real mountain conditions! And we all wore wool!
Chas Moss, the owner of the then-privately owned Enchanted Rock, charged 50 cents to enter and an additional dollar to camp. The park had a few gates and dirt roads hidden around the back side. We had ambitions to sneak the truck into the back by Buzzard's Roost. Although that would save us the entry fees, more importantly it would save us from having to carry the hundreds of pounds of gear in our rig. Plus, how cool would it be to truck-camp at Buzzard's?
Teddy Joe first showed me his design for his shop-class project. He described it with great enthusiasm. It would have a motor and climb a cord! He thought of everything - fully accessorized with snap-in bowl covers, a built in lighter, and, yes, it would climb the cord that fed across a cog driven by little electric motor.
Teddy Joe waved his hands as he described the use-case for the pipe. "Image this," he said, "you are hanging at one anchor and I'm at the other. What if we want to smoke a bowl? How do we pass the pipe?" I shrugged my shoulders.
"Well," he continued, "the pipe, with all the fixings - built-in lighter and a bowl cover to protect the goods - would traverse a cord between us." I cracked-up. This was some special sort of brilliance mixed with crazy. But his schematics were very specific and complete, and I'd be damned that Teddy Joe built it in high school shop and earned an A. It was included in our rig.
Yeeepiiii!
The start of the adventure was a cloudy and grey day with a light drizzle for our drive out Bee Caves road and Highway 71. Fog grew as we punched west. The weather did not deter us, as they mimicked real mountain conditions! And we all wore wool!
Chas Moss, the owner of the then-privately owned Enchanted Rock, charged 50 cents to enter and an additional dollar to camp. The park had a few gates and dirt roads hidden around the back side. We had ambitions to sneak the truck into the back by Buzzard's Roost. Although that would save us the entry fees, more importantly it would save us from having to carry the hundreds of pounds of gear in our rig. Plus, how cool would it be to truck-camp at Buzzard's?
The road to Enchanted Rock. A water color painting of Enchanted Rock by Kit Garcia. (Image Rights: James Crump Collection)
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The Buzzard's Roost at Enchanted Rock, Texas. #3 is Shrike and #5 is Fear of Flying. (Image is from the Domedriver's Manual Enchanted Rock guidebook written by James Crump.)
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Well, as luck would have it, our off-road, illegal shenanigans had not only been observed by Mr. Moss, we also knocked the tail pipe and muffler off my father’s truck.
We retreated and reversed our trespass, deciding that our time might be better spent drinking beer and listening to music at Luckenbach, Texas. It was a wet cold February and beer and music sounded warm and welcoming.
We headed south on 965 towards Fredericksburg - with a really loud truck. Teddy Joe fired up our bong and we started to get our pre-Luckenbach party on. Being bothered by the noise, I decided to pull off and take a look at the muffler. With the cold air, multiple bodies in the truck, and a lit bong, all of the windows were fogged. Before stepping out of the truck, I took a huge hit.
As I rose up from the bong, I looked in the rear-view mirror and saw a red flashing light through the fogged up rear window. I reacted in panic, rolled down my window, turned and exhaled my lung-full-pot-smoke directly into the face of a gun-toting Texas Game Warden who had been sent out to investigate our trespass, as reported by Old Man Moss.
Can you say busted by John Wayne? He was the sternest 6-foot 4-inch Stetson-wearing image of west Texas law. Eyes, chin, and hands the size of…well, everything is bigger in Texas.
He said, “Son, give me your license and registration!” I whimpered, “Yes sir,” and reached for the glove box where my wallet and paper license were. To which he drew his pistol and told me to “Freeze!"
We retreated and reversed our trespass, deciding that our time might be better spent drinking beer and listening to music at Luckenbach, Texas. It was a wet cold February and beer and music sounded warm and welcoming.
We headed south on 965 towards Fredericksburg - with a really loud truck. Teddy Joe fired up our bong and we started to get our pre-Luckenbach party on. Being bothered by the noise, I decided to pull off and take a look at the muffler. With the cold air, multiple bodies in the truck, and a lit bong, all of the windows were fogged. Before stepping out of the truck, I took a huge hit.
As I rose up from the bong, I looked in the rear-view mirror and saw a red flashing light through the fogged up rear window. I reacted in panic, rolled down my window, turned and exhaled my lung-full-pot-smoke directly into the face of a gun-toting Texas Game Warden who had been sent out to investigate our trespass, as reported by Old Man Moss.
Can you say busted by John Wayne? He was the sternest 6-foot 4-inch Stetson-wearing image of west Texas law. Eyes, chin, and hands the size of…well, everything is bigger in Texas.
He said, “Son, give me your license and registration!” I whimpered, “Yes sir,” and reached for the glove box where my wallet and paper license were. To which he drew his pistol and told me to “Freeze!"
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He was soon on his radio. Since we were trespassing in Llano County and had marijuana in Gillespie County, everybody showed up! It was like a flock gathering, three cars and officers from EACH sheriff's department were parked in a line surrounding my father’s truck. Plus there was a Department of Public Safety Ranger enforcing the Game Warden's side of the law.
They lined us up on the side of the road and completely tore through our rig - even to the point of unrolling toilet paper looking for paper acid. I turned to the Game Warden and remarked, “You would think we were murderers or something.” He turned and gave me a dead eye stare and said, “Out here son, you are just as bad as murderers!” And, of course we looked the part in our wool knickers, snowflake socks and blue boots, and our beards and hippie hair and Teddy Joe looking like Charles Manson... Then they found Teddy’s climbing pipe clipped to the gear rack. The sheriff's deputy flipped on the switch and jumped like it was a rattle snake as the pipe's motor tried to climb the cord wrapped around it. The pipe buzzed like a bee when it was stuck in the fist of rope. The officers reacted like they thought it might explode, even though it was clearly a pot pipe. They finally loaded my crew-mates up in the cop cars. Inexplicably - me with a paper-license, wearing odd clothing, underage, and with evidence I was under the influence of drugs - I was ordered to drive my father's truck down into Fredericksburg and to the courthouse. They said it was a liability thing... Astonished, and with an armed Deputy riding shotgun, giving me turn-by-turn directions, I led a procession of eight, lit-up police cars down 965 into town. |
James Crump's brother Russel next to the infamous 1969 International Harvester Travel-all truck - aka. their dad's truck... (Credit: James Crump Collection)
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We were sat in a hallway in a line of chairs. The first hour was watching the in-and-out flow of people from the offices. Soon a table was set up next to us and all our pot, pipes, bongs, roach clips, and weird stuff from our climbing rig that they thought were used for the consumption of drugs, were displayed across the table.
Teddy Joe’s climbing pipe was the central item.
We’re were literally the afternoon Freak Show for this small town. Even the Fredericksburg Ladies' Club had to come see the show. It was hilarious when an old bitty flipped the switch on the climbing pipe and it jerked to try to climb the rope in its gearing. She peed for sure!
First, the officers took Teddy Joe and Scott into a hearing because they were 18. They left me in the hallway by myself because I was only 16. Eventually Teddy and Scott rejoined me, shaking their heads as to the fear of our legal doom.
We sat there for a couple more hours. All sorts of random folks walked by and examined our evidence - including flipping the switch on our pipe. Every land-line must have rung across that town, "Go check out these crazy, knicker-wearing, young hippie boys at the court house...oh, and be sure to flip the switch on that contraption at the center of the table."
Finally, we were called into the Sheriff’s office. He had all of our stuff laid out on his desk. He excused the game warden and other deputies from his office.
The Sheriff in Gillespie county is an elected official, and to this day I don’t know if he was The Sheriff or his weekend deputy, but he was clearly different from the hard-eyed wardens and deputies of our arrest. He smiled, had hair a bit over his collar and looked more like the star quarterback from high school ten years removed.
He had us sit down and gave us his grave speech about trespassing and marijuana. Pausing he looked each of us in the eye and pointed at Teddy Joe’s pipe and said, “Just what the hell is this and what does it do?”
Without missing a beat, Teddy Joe hopped up and started explaining his creation with the full pride of a slightly demented inventor. He motioned to me to get up and handed me the end of the cord and motioned me to step to the back of the office. I did and then took up the slack as Teddy unrolled the cord freeing the pipe.
Without pausing, Teddy reached into the baggy holding our bud and loaded a bowl, drawing out the tube, flicked the lighter and lit the bowl! He puffed and drew making sure it was lit, flipped the protective screen over the bowl and flipped the switch. Sending the pipe to me.
The Sheriff eyed Teddy, and then me, as the pipe made its way into my hands. I shrug, take a big hit because I am a bit needy in the moment. Teddy hands the cord to the Sherriff and I flip the switch and send the pipe onto its return.
It reaches the Sheriff and he takes a hit. He gathers all of our stuff together and slides it into a drawer of his desk. Then he exhales and after a moment - the moment where our fates were decided - commented, “That is some pretty good stuff.”
“Ok boys, I am confiscating all this, but dropping the pot charges. Git your asses out of here!”
Or elation at our hopes for freedom and an end to the nightmare we’re crushed when the Game Warden met us outside and said. “Well boys, let’s go to Llano!”
We reassembled our convoy, me driving my father’s truck and a Llano Sheriff Deputy riding shotgun for the 32-mile drive north. The judge was out so they took us to a diner and fed us, which was a grim affair.
Finally, Teddy and Scott saw the judge and were fined $150 each for trespassing, I was not charged since I was under age. Old Man Moss was there and testified against us. He looked at me and shook his head in clear disappointment for I was well known to him from climbing at E-Rock since I was 11.
They waited until about 9:00 pm on Saturday evening to call all three of our parents, demanding they collect us and pay our fines before midnight or we were going to be sent to jail.
I can still feel my father's suppressed rage as he collected me. I was lucky my mom was there to temper his temper. As I crawled into the back and laid down on the chaotic pile of gear left after the Sherriff’s search, my father turned on the truck. He heard the sound of the engine with the tail pipe and muffler knocked off. It was a 100-mile drive home where my father cursed me under every muttered breath.
Teddy Joe’s climbing pipe was the central item.
We’re were literally the afternoon Freak Show for this small town. Even the Fredericksburg Ladies' Club had to come see the show. It was hilarious when an old bitty flipped the switch on the climbing pipe and it jerked to try to climb the rope in its gearing. She peed for sure!
First, the officers took Teddy Joe and Scott into a hearing because they were 18. They left me in the hallway by myself because I was only 16. Eventually Teddy and Scott rejoined me, shaking their heads as to the fear of our legal doom.
We sat there for a couple more hours. All sorts of random folks walked by and examined our evidence - including flipping the switch on our pipe. Every land-line must have rung across that town, "Go check out these crazy, knicker-wearing, young hippie boys at the court house...oh, and be sure to flip the switch on that contraption at the center of the table."
Finally, we were called into the Sheriff’s office. He had all of our stuff laid out on his desk. He excused the game warden and other deputies from his office.
The Sheriff in Gillespie county is an elected official, and to this day I don’t know if he was The Sheriff or his weekend deputy, but he was clearly different from the hard-eyed wardens and deputies of our arrest. He smiled, had hair a bit over his collar and looked more like the star quarterback from high school ten years removed.
He had us sit down and gave us his grave speech about trespassing and marijuana. Pausing he looked each of us in the eye and pointed at Teddy Joe’s pipe and said, “Just what the hell is this and what does it do?”
Without missing a beat, Teddy Joe hopped up and started explaining his creation with the full pride of a slightly demented inventor. He motioned to me to get up and handed me the end of the cord and motioned me to step to the back of the office. I did and then took up the slack as Teddy unrolled the cord freeing the pipe.
Without pausing, Teddy reached into the baggy holding our bud and loaded a bowl, drawing out the tube, flicked the lighter and lit the bowl! He puffed and drew making sure it was lit, flipped the protective screen over the bowl and flipped the switch. Sending the pipe to me.
The Sheriff eyed Teddy, and then me, as the pipe made its way into my hands. I shrug, take a big hit because I am a bit needy in the moment. Teddy hands the cord to the Sherriff and I flip the switch and send the pipe onto its return.
It reaches the Sheriff and he takes a hit. He gathers all of our stuff together and slides it into a drawer of his desk. Then he exhales and after a moment - the moment where our fates were decided - commented, “That is some pretty good stuff.”
“Ok boys, I am confiscating all this, but dropping the pot charges. Git your asses out of here!”
Or elation at our hopes for freedom and an end to the nightmare we’re crushed when the Game Warden met us outside and said. “Well boys, let’s go to Llano!”
We reassembled our convoy, me driving my father’s truck and a Llano Sheriff Deputy riding shotgun for the 32-mile drive north. The judge was out so they took us to a diner and fed us, which was a grim affair.
Finally, Teddy and Scott saw the judge and were fined $150 each for trespassing, I was not charged since I was under age. Old Man Moss was there and testified against us. He looked at me and shook his head in clear disappointment for I was well known to him from climbing at E-Rock since I was 11.
They waited until about 9:00 pm on Saturday evening to call all three of our parents, demanding they collect us and pay our fines before midnight or we were going to be sent to jail.
I can still feel my father's suppressed rage as he collected me. I was lucky my mom was there to temper his temper. As I crawled into the back and laid down on the chaotic pile of gear left after the Sherriff’s search, my father turned on the truck. He heard the sound of the engine with the tail pipe and muffler knocked off. It was a 100-mile drive home where my father cursed me under every muttered breath.
The Hang Glider Incident
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Somehow, I survived this first adventure. I buckled down at school, and even was blessed when my parents allowed my oldest brother Russell to pass down to me the old family station wagon when he was able to buy his own first car. It was a 1964 Volvo! I had grown up in this car!
This Volvo was the perfect climber adventure vehicle, sporty but with room for the team and gear! It had 300,000 miles on it, but it was free and it was mine Owning a car has demands, first of all is the need for money to buy gas and oil! By June we had it down to a science. Between my $5 weekly allowance, my bus-boy job at Bonanza Steak House, and Teddy's $5 allowance, we could buy enough supplies for a weekend - a bag of whole wheat muffins, two cans of tuna, a six pack of Pearl (augmented by what we would take from our mom’s pantry and fridge), a quart of oil, $5 of gas, and our entry fee to E-Rock.. Lean but enough! We did nine weekends in a row like this and, as the summer heat kicked in, we added on some deep water soling out at Pace Bend on Lake Travis on our way home. It was hard the first-time facing Chas Moss and paying our admission, but he eventually forgave us our trespassing and grudgingly welcomed us back to his park. |
Taligate picnic in the family's 1964 Volvo. James Crump is the young boy in the center of the photo. (Credit: James Crump Collection)
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By July it was really hot, but we were still making the trek. We picked up climbing partners and this day it was Rich. We ran for shade and the Triple Cracks, but also set up some top ropes on the backside. We were getting baked off the wall and decided to climb Devils Slide to the top to gather our anchors and head home.
Devils Slide is a 300-foot ramp of slab granite with routes called Easier Than it Looks and Harder Than it Looks, both leading to the top of the back side. We ran up Harder Than it Looks - a two bolt, 300-foot, 5.6 slab climb. Teddy Joe was at the belay at the Fat Man Flake about half-way up.
I was 2/3s of the way up the pitch, seconding and carrying our pack of gear, when Teddy let out a whoop as a hang glider took flight above us. We were both wowed by the flight and as he soared out away from us. Teddy Joe hollered, “Have a happy landing!”
Just then the kite seemed to stall. It turned back to the wall and we were looking straight into the terrified eyes of the pilot as he knew he was about to crash. I swear I heard him cuss an “Oh shit!”
His kite swooped onto us, with multiple impacts - the nose of the kite and the pilot's knee nailing the wall and part of the wing hitting Teddy’s foot. Then whole thing was sliding down the slab onto me, with the nose of the kite hanging on the rope between Teddy and me.
I grabbed a draw off my harness and clipped it onto a wire stay on the kite. A gust of wind swept the glider back into flight - and us along with it - then slammed us back into the wall. In out-of-mind, reactive movement, I unclipped from the kite, clipped to the pilot, and then unclipped him from the kite. I threw the kite as far away as possible, not wanting to ride that ride again. I gathered the whimpering pilot into my arms.
The pilot was severely injured so I lowered him gently to a cup-like ledge. Through much adrenal babbling between Teddy Joe and myself, Teddy held the rope - with both me and the pilot - on a simple hip belay.
With the pilot on the ledge, Teddy tied us off onto his belay anchor, then rapidly set more gear. I tended to my new patient and did an evaluation of his injuries as Boy Scout First Aid taught me.
It was clear he had leg injuries. His right knee, which had impacted the wall, was a crater rather than a knee cap. His left ankle was clearly broken, likely tibfib. As we were stuck in the cup, I could not do standard shock first aid. But the pilot seemed coherent, so I gave him water and tried to position him as well as I could.
We soon heard voices from below, from folks who witnessed the crash and were offering help. We asked them to call rescue and get us sticks so I could split his leg injuries. We dropped a rope and the splint sticks were sent up.
A crowd gathered at the base. Water and first aid gear were also sent up. An hour later a climber named Doug - whom I had never previously met - joined Teddy at the belay and added his ropes and skills to our rescue, later helping bring down a paramedic and a scoop litter. The litter was not designed for vertical rescue, but instead designed to pickup spinal victims off the ground. There were no tie points on its frame.
I dug into my rack and pulled out prusik and tie off loops. I fashioned four tie points, one at each corner, and built a harness to lower our wayward glider-pilot to the ground. Once we had it all ready, we coaxed the injured pilot onto the litter and I guided the stretcher package down the wall. It was epic, as the wall was less than vertical and I had to hold the stretcher in a curl to keep his injuries off the wall. My arms vibrated from the strain and I failed more than once, to the screams of my patient.
During all this, I also thoroughly terrorized the paramedic as I moved him from rope-to-rope, trying to manage the rope congestion of the accident scene. His eyes would grow wide as I clipped him into his new free rope. The paramedic gave what care he could to the ailing patient.
I finally got the patient and paramedic to the ground. The Llano Fire Rescue folks took over from this point, navigating their way - and dropping the patient more than once -down the talus to the trail and a truck.
There was a cute girl there at the base, whom I later learned was Cheryl, and Old Man Moss. Old Man Moss came over and sat next to me. After a moment, he said, “If I’d a known it was you on that trespass, I would not have called it in. James, you have free entry from here on out.” He patted my knee and walked out following the rescuers.
After the rescue had cleared, I headed back to Austin and to my evening bus-boy shift at Bonanza. I was a couple of hours late. My boss confronted me I told him “I was climbing out at Enchanted Rock and a hang glider crashed into me and I had to rescue him.”
He looked at me, shook his head as said, “You’re lying, you’re fired!”
I was stunned, but he clocked me out and said, “Git!” It was very satisfying to show him the article in the Fredericksburg newspaper - which proclaimed me a hero - that Friday when I picked up my last check. He had the total catfish look!
Thus, I had a career change and begun the fine art of digging swimming pools! Some fellow climbers, also so employed, had heard of my firing and hired me. Digging swimming pools in the Texas summer was hard work, but it made me strong! "Swimming pools and movie stars" - like the Beverly Hillbillies - but we also had rock climbing, climbing pipes, and hang gliders... Ya'll come back now ya’hear.
Devils Slide is a 300-foot ramp of slab granite with routes called Easier Than it Looks and Harder Than it Looks, both leading to the top of the back side. We ran up Harder Than it Looks - a two bolt, 300-foot, 5.6 slab climb. Teddy Joe was at the belay at the Fat Man Flake about half-way up.
I was 2/3s of the way up the pitch, seconding and carrying our pack of gear, when Teddy let out a whoop as a hang glider took flight above us. We were both wowed by the flight and as he soared out away from us. Teddy Joe hollered, “Have a happy landing!”
Just then the kite seemed to stall. It turned back to the wall and we were looking straight into the terrified eyes of the pilot as he knew he was about to crash. I swear I heard him cuss an “Oh shit!”
His kite swooped onto us, with multiple impacts - the nose of the kite and the pilot's knee nailing the wall and part of the wing hitting Teddy’s foot. Then whole thing was sliding down the slab onto me, with the nose of the kite hanging on the rope between Teddy and me.
I grabbed a draw off my harness and clipped it onto a wire stay on the kite. A gust of wind swept the glider back into flight - and us along with it - then slammed us back into the wall. In out-of-mind, reactive movement, I unclipped from the kite, clipped to the pilot, and then unclipped him from the kite. I threw the kite as far away as possible, not wanting to ride that ride again. I gathered the whimpering pilot into my arms.
The pilot was severely injured so I lowered him gently to a cup-like ledge. Through much adrenal babbling between Teddy Joe and myself, Teddy held the rope - with both me and the pilot - on a simple hip belay.
With the pilot on the ledge, Teddy tied us off onto his belay anchor, then rapidly set more gear. I tended to my new patient and did an evaluation of his injuries as Boy Scout First Aid taught me.
It was clear he had leg injuries. His right knee, which had impacted the wall, was a crater rather than a knee cap. His left ankle was clearly broken, likely tibfib. As we were stuck in the cup, I could not do standard shock first aid. But the pilot seemed coherent, so I gave him water and tried to position him as well as I could.
We soon heard voices from below, from folks who witnessed the crash and were offering help. We asked them to call rescue and get us sticks so I could split his leg injuries. We dropped a rope and the splint sticks were sent up.
A crowd gathered at the base. Water and first aid gear were also sent up. An hour later a climber named Doug - whom I had never previously met - joined Teddy at the belay and added his ropes and skills to our rescue, later helping bring down a paramedic and a scoop litter. The litter was not designed for vertical rescue, but instead designed to pickup spinal victims off the ground. There were no tie points on its frame.
I dug into my rack and pulled out prusik and tie off loops. I fashioned four tie points, one at each corner, and built a harness to lower our wayward glider-pilot to the ground. Once we had it all ready, we coaxed the injured pilot onto the litter and I guided the stretcher package down the wall. It was epic, as the wall was less than vertical and I had to hold the stretcher in a curl to keep his injuries off the wall. My arms vibrated from the strain and I failed more than once, to the screams of my patient.
During all this, I also thoroughly terrorized the paramedic as I moved him from rope-to-rope, trying to manage the rope congestion of the accident scene. His eyes would grow wide as I clipped him into his new free rope. The paramedic gave what care he could to the ailing patient.
I finally got the patient and paramedic to the ground. The Llano Fire Rescue folks took over from this point, navigating their way - and dropping the patient more than once -down the talus to the trail and a truck.
There was a cute girl there at the base, whom I later learned was Cheryl, and Old Man Moss. Old Man Moss came over and sat next to me. After a moment, he said, “If I’d a known it was you on that trespass, I would not have called it in. James, you have free entry from here on out.” He patted my knee and walked out following the rescuers.
After the rescue had cleared, I headed back to Austin and to my evening bus-boy shift at Bonanza. I was a couple of hours late. My boss confronted me I told him “I was climbing out at Enchanted Rock and a hang glider crashed into me and I had to rescue him.”
He looked at me, shook his head as said, “You’re lying, you’re fired!”
I was stunned, but he clocked me out and said, “Git!” It was very satisfying to show him the article in the Fredericksburg newspaper - which proclaimed me a hero - that Friday when I picked up my last check. He had the total catfish look!
Thus, I had a career change and begun the fine art of digging swimming pools! Some fellow climbers, also so employed, had heard of my firing and hired me. Digging swimming pools in the Texas summer was hard work, but it made me strong! "Swimming pools and movie stars" - like the Beverly Hillbillies - but we also had rock climbing, climbing pipes, and hang gliders... Ya'll come back now ya’hear.