Sunday I got a call from Shim Shimberg, owner of Rock Barn climbing gym as well as Rhino Guide Service in Plymouth, NH. "Hey Sonya, play hooky from work tomorrow and let's go climb Whitney-Gilman Ridge at Cannon!"

Sit in a tiny, overheated cubicle all day long, or spend the day outdoors climbing. No real decision there.

Jim, or Shim as his friends call him, has been climbing and guiding for 30 years. I'd never climbed with him before, but knew him through the company that I work for. He's super friendly and fun to be around, so I knew I would be in good hands, as well as good company, with him.

Cannon Cliff, located in Franconia Notch State Park, NH, is more well known for "Old Man of the Mountain," a natural-stone profile that resembled an old man. This feature slid down the mountain in 2003 and joined the large talus field below. Cannon has been a long-time favorite of climbers in the northeast. The cliffs soars 1,000' at the highest point with unpredictable weather and quite a bit of loose rock. The large, steep talus field below the cliff is testament to that.

Whitney-Gilman Ridge is the prominent, sharp arête on the left side of the cliff face. It was first climbed in 1929 and is considered a "classic" climb in the northeast. It is an excellent introduction to alpine climbing, with steep, exposed rock, excellent views of the cliff and the valley, and large ledges to belay from. This climb has been on my tick list for quite some time and I am thrilled to finally check it off.

I met Shim at Exit 28 off of I-93 and we headed north to Cannon. The cliff's profile came in to view shortly after we left and I could see from the distance that the approach to the climb was not going to be a walk in the park. We were going to have to go through that steep talus field to get to the base of the climb. Shim tried to ease my fears. "Don't worry, just take it slowly."

View of Cannon from Whitney-Gilman Ridge

After leaving the car in the parking lot south of Profile Lake, we walked down a paved bike path for a short distance and then abruptly headed to the right up a wooded path. Eventually, we arrived to the start of the talus field. Did I mention that Shim is a long-distance runner/racer? I watched his back grow smaller and smaller as we headed up. He joked with me that this was the first time he had to carry the rope and all the gear on an approach. I half-heartedly offered to take the rope, but he took pity on me and kept it.

After about 20-30 minutes of steep climbing up what ranged from medium/large boulders to fist-sized, slippery rocks, then bushwhacking through thick tangles of vines and brush, we found the path at the base of the cliff. Whitney-Gilman Ridge had several parties on the first and second pitches climbing very slowly. We decided to give them some time to get higher so we did some single-pitches around the middle of the cliff.

The first climb we jumped on was Lightning Crack, a really nice, easy 5.7 climb. It was an excellent warm-up and we finished this quickly and were ready for more! So, we headed a little farther down the trail to Reppy's Crack, a true hand/foot jam crack rated at 5.8. Shim told me he had seen this crack beats down many Rumney 5.10 face climbers. Luckily, I have a little crack experience from a clinic I took in Moab, UT - Chicks on Crack. Reppy's starts out fairly tame, nice finger and toe jams and then the crack widens out. I jammed my foot in sideways, and then twisted my foot until it "locked" in, and, as if that wasn't painful enough, I stood up on it. Crack climbing is not for the faint of heart.

Jammin' up Reppy's Crack, 5.8

We headed over to Whitney-Gilman Ridge and I was impressed, and a little intimidated, with its rugged, exposed features. The ridge is about 500' high and usually climbed in four or five pitches. What I noticed the most was how "chossy" it looked - like it was about to crumble down at any moment. Which could very well be the case, judging from the large talus field below it.

The clouds had moved in while we were climbing Reppy's and we had felt a few drops of rain. Shim told me the weather changed quickly here and that you didn't want to be up the ridge when it turned bad. So, his plan was to climb quickly and place very little gear. I told him that was fine as it was less work for me. "Don't fall!" I called out as he headed up. "That's not an option," he called back.

I could barely keep up with him on the belay. Pretty soon I heard him call out that he was off belay. He pulled up all the slack and I headed up. The start was a nice crack - not much jamming as there were other features to use. This pitch is an easy 5.4 and I climbed it quickly. Shim placed only two pieces of protection on the 140' pitch. That's confidence for you. That and he has climbed this route a billion times.

Shim combined the second and third pitch in to a nice, long single pitch. This pitch is known as the "Pipe" pitch. I had read about this pitch, but had no idea what it was. I figured it was some type of weird rock formation that resembled a pipe. He shimmied quickly up the first 75' and was yelling down to me that this was where the "pipe" was. I looked, but didn't see anything that resembled a pipe. Then he started to grab on to a large flake and quickly backed off. "Whoa, Sonya, that flake is really loose, but you don't need it, so just go around it." He then scurried up an overhanging section and told me this was the crux of the pitch, but all the hands and feet were there. And then he was up and over and out of sight. Not only could I not see him at this point, but due to the wind, I could no longer hear him. I waited a while until I felt the rope being pulled up and figured it was time to climb.

I headed up to the right side of the arête on to a very nice hand crack that led to the pipe. I came up over a ledge and lo and behold, there was an actual pipe in the crack! Go figure. I pondered a bit as to why there was pipe in there, but due to the extreme exposure I decided to carry on. I came to the big, loose flake and discovered that in fact, I did not need to use the flake (although it would have made that particular spot a little easier to climb!) and carefully climbed around it. I approached the overhanging section and was looking forward to a little more challenge in the climbing. Everything was there - nice little handholds and small protrusions for my feet - I pulled myself up and over and spotted Shim up another 75' or so at the belay station.

There were three other climbers to the left of us at the belay station. After a little friendly conversation, I learned that they were all in the Army and were learning how to climb as part of their training. They had been climbing at Cannon all week to become familiar with the movement and also following leads and removing gear. The next day, several of them were to make their first trad lead climb. I was amazed to hear this. It took several years of climbing indoors and outdoors for me to get up the nerve to start leading trad. I can't imagine only climbing for several days and then leading. Yikes! But I saw no fear in their eyes, only calmness and determination. I was very impressed and really enjoyed my chat with them.

In the mean time, Shim was finishing the lead on the last pitch. This turned out to be the crux of the climb as we went up the "harder" way since the Army guys were on the original 5.7 route and we didn't want to get in their way. The "harder" way was straight up the headwall to the top of the ridge. This is very exposed and requires tricky moves to get over the crux. When Shim got to the crux, he made the move and then hollered to me, "That's the move, Sonya, that's the move." Huh? What's the move? I was talking to the Army guys and didn't really witness "the move." Uh oh. If it was a tricky move for Shim, what was it going to be like when I got to it?

After he anchored in, I started up. The first portion was fairly easy, and then I moved off to the right side of the arête and climbed up 20' before heading back to the left, on to the headwall. I knew the crux was coming, but wasn't totally sure where it was. I figured ignorance was bliss, and kept moving. Eventually, the crux found me.

It consisted of a small roof and one thin finger hold to my left and one thin finger hold to my right, so my arms were stretched out in to a T. There were no footholds, so I was going to have to pull on either side and smear up with my feet until I was high enough to catch a right side pull directly above my head. On my first try, I had to back down and see if I could find a better handhold. Nothing. I looked around for a few more minutes. Nada. I faced the fact that I was just going to have to go for the move with the holds I found…after all, the worst that could happen is I would fall and hang on the rope. And maybe a little tug on my pride. Shim was calling out encouragement from above and armed with that, I made the move. I pulled hard on both sides, worked my feet up, and I was able to grab the side pull! I climbed easily through that and finished the last 30' of moderate climbing.

After catching my breath, I asked Shim about the pipe I saw. He said that the earlier climbers did not use pro to climb the ridge. They wedged pipe in and wrapped the rope around it. It gave me a healthy respect for the earlier climbers who must've had nerves of steel and tons of courage.

I led the last portion (okay, so it was only 20 feet of class IV scrambling), pulled the rope up, and Shim joined me at the top. We high-fived, had a quick snack, gathered up the gear, and headed to the descent trail.