We avoid a deep pothole just before the Route Normale comes in by some slabby traversing and a stimulating jump across to a sloping slab. We have been alone all day, but as we near the Golden Cathedral, we here a big splash and some interesting sounds. I think, oh darn, here's some gonzo college kids making lots of noise, bumming our peaceful vibes.
We scramble down a little V slot to that rim above a pothole, with the holes at knee level with wood in them. Usually, this spot is a short drop into a sandy pothole, then just walk out and you're 100 yards from the big finish. This time, we find a big pothole filled waist deep with water, and with quite an overhanging lip at the exit, and two very cold Bozeman-ites who had just exited. Here we are in our wetsuits, but they're just wearing some capilene and quaking like Aspens in a windstorm.
Examination of the exit geometry brings a lump to my throat. These two had been working on the exit for a while. The lip was within reach, but sloped upward at about a 45 degree angle and was not only devoid of holds but also covered with fine sand. The undercut lip permitted no assist from the feet. They had tossed a few small logs into the water, and the guy had braced them, climbed up on them, then pulled some desperate 5.12 moves to get his ass out of there. BRAVO, I say. I think Survival might have had something to do with it.
Anyway, we took advantage of them to get our tubby derrieres out of there, and all proceed to the cathedral together. Thank you, Bozemenites. We probably could have made it out with a two-person shoulder stand, but pulling the moves is very impressive.
