Trip Report: Original Route, Mt. Whitesides N.C.
Date: 12/13/1999
Author: Kris Nuttycombe

On Saturday, my partner and I did the Original Route on Mt. Whitesides, N.C., 5.11a R or 5.9+ R A1. In retrospect, we severely underestimated the difficulty of this incredible route. No part of the route was physically difficult, but the exposure and long runouts over bad gear made it a psychological battle to finish.

Friday night I left work in Orlando in time to pick up my partner at the gym at 6. We turned onto I-4 northbound, and were immediately stuck in traffic so slow that it took us until after 8:00 to make it 15 miles from the city. This two hour setback meant that we would not arrive at Whitesides until 5:00 the next morning. When we finally arrived, we collapsed for a few hours of cold sleep. At 8 we got up and headed for the route. Never having been to Whitesides before, it took us until 10 to make the approach and to decide exacty where the route started.

After some discussion, my partner opted to lead the first pitch, an apparently unprotected 100' 5.7 slab of gneiss. After finding 1 bolt on the pitch at about 60', he continued to a large solution pocket near the top. He stood there for probably 15 minutes, trying to gather his composure before committing to the sloping friction climbing above. His voice floated down to me, "Kris, the specter of fear has entered my mind." I shouted encouragement, well aware that downclimbing was not an option, nor was falling. A few tense minutes later, he committed to the move and pulled happily onto the ledge above. Following, I was astonished by the insecurity of the climbing. It was only a bare introduction to the fearful runouts that would lie ahead. As with the remainder of the route, there was not a single difficult move on the pitch, but the dearth of protection made it psychologically draining.

My partner started to lead the second pitch, but was still shaken from the first and opted out after not finding gear. I took over the lead, and with a little assistance from the local beta gods (thanks, whoever you were) pulled up off of the death flake and up to the belay. No gear on the pitch, but the moves were easy enough not to be intimidating. So far, so good. The next pitch, a well-protected 5.7 dihedral, fell quickly to my partner, and I quickly followed, then sent the next pitch, a one-move wonder 5.9. It was after this that things started to get scary.

The next pitch was probably the most intimidating 5.5 I've ever seen. Completely vertical, with absolutely no gear, and high-stepping moves on sloping masses of mica. My partner had the lead, and as he climbed the seriousness of the route started to seep in. The exposure on this pitch was incredible, both thrilling and disconcerting due to the lack of gear. At the belay, we exchanged a few words about the meaning of 5.5, then it was my lead for the "crescent" pitch.

Our topo showed a move right into a right leaning dihedral, which one would then follow up to its end with a roof on the right and a ledge on the left. I turned the exposed bulge and balanced my way into the corner, where there was good gear. A few easy stemming moves up, and I was suddenly confused. A small ledge, which I could reach with an irreversible move to my left beckoned. Yet, I was still about ten feet below the roof, and the climbing looked far more difficult than the suggested 5.8, and covered with lichen. Only a desperate shout to our beta buddies resolved the situation, with the answer that the topo was indeed wrong and the move to the left was correct. Left and up, sixty feet later with no intermediate gear on vertical 5.7-5.8, and I nervously assembled the hanging belay below the 5.11 crux. A quick look down told me that I'd never before experienced this kind of exposure. From the hanging belay, a plumb line would not have encountered any obstruction until the slabs at the top of the first pitch. The runouts were beginning to take a psychological toll. Once Jason reached the belay, we reached a quick consensus-- the crux pitch was mine. I moved up, clipped the first two bolts, and in a spurt of better judgment and desire to get the hell off the route, yarded on the draw. By the time I reached an old fixed pin, the sun had ducked behind the mass of the mountain and the temperature was dropping rapidly. Still three pitches of easy climbing to go.

The next pitch was an easy but exposed and unprotected traverse 100 feet straight horizontally, with the wall dropping undercut away beneath our feet. Pitches 9 and 10 were more vertical, unprotected 5.6, this time slick with water. We dispatched them quickly, and reached the observation rail at the top just in time to see the sun drop below the horzon.

All in all, a fantastic day. The route was sustained and exposed, though not physically difficult. However, it's certainly not a route for beginners, as the continuous lack of protection makes just about any potential fall a fatal one. The first pitch alone is more like soloing than roped climbing, and only two of the pitches are genuinely well protected. Routefinding is not tremendously difficult, but the line is nebulous in places and our topo contained a couple of troublesome inaccuracies. This route gets three stars... and two helmets out of three for the lack of protection.

Kris