Breaking out of sunny Lander at the screaming pace of 45 mph in Joe’s “new” 1983 VW Westfallia we (Emily and Joe of the world famous Wild Iris Mountain Sports) headed into the sparsely appreciated desert of Central Wyoming, loaded down with seven days of gear,  even though we only had two days off of work. We were, as always, awe-struck by the classic edifices of Split Rock, Lankin Dome, Haystack, The Great Stone Face and Cranner Rock as we passed Jeffery City.  But our objective for this trip was Fremont Canyon, a narrow canyon with steep walls of pure granite. The canyon lay south of Casper not too far from our home town of Lander. We aspired to climb all the classic crack lines in the canyon. Going where neither of us had gone before, we took a left at Muddy Gap and headed north.

             The Rattlesnake Range rolled on before us and we were amazed at the surprises that are locked into Wyoming’s deserts. At the far end of the range we spied a sheer cliff face, part of a short canyon; The Devils Gate. Upon closer inspection the nearest access road to this natural phenomenon was guarded by a Mormon Hand Cart Historical Site. We ventured past the gate hoping everyone was preoccupied with religious exploration. Maybe we could slip in and grab a few pitches; it was Sunday after all. We stuck out like a sore thumb. The run down VW and our Patagonian attire gave us away as outsiders. A very nice, very well dressed gentleman kindly stared and steered us towards the trail that would lead us to the cliff of our dreams.  Not wanting to provoke anyone we left the climbing gear in the van. We walked through the well-maintained historical site only stopping at the Trek House, where a couple hundred hand carts were being stored. The hand carts were there for tourist to pull along well maintained trail and reenact the pioneer’s struggles across the plains. We continued a mile down the trail to Devil’s Gate. We stumbled through the canyon trying vainly to not stumble as we stared up at the cliff. We picked out five or six natural splitters. The tallest part of the face would have to be ascended with a mixture of bolts and traditional gear. A small stream ran at the base of the cliff. As we left dreaming of routes unclimbed we turned yellow at the prospect that climbing was not allowed. 

 On the road from Alcova towards the canyon, the unnatural splendor of Pathfinder Dam revealed itself to us. The man-made lake was full of weekend warriors on their boats. Moments later we abruptly came to the bridge area of Fremont Canyon.  We found some 307 Bouldering minions and Harley huggers in and around the canyon.  Looking into the canyon we saw the North Platte River flowing feverishly across the rocks below. After a short lunch and contemplation we received our bearings from some local Casper friends. The classic B-52 was occupied so we moved over to a 5.7 named Halfway. This would turn out to be the only actual lead climb at Fremont canyon. Joe quickly led the pitch after a long hassle with rappel ropes, lead ropes and gear. Frustration grew. After going more than halfway on Halfway we re-discovered the joys of top-roping on the 5.8 Carpenter’s Corner. We didn’t have anyone to impress. Then we moved across the canyon to Bushwhacker, where aside from the vegetable matter in the larger cracks we found perfect finger cracks. Encouraged by the safety of a top-rope we felt we decided to try something a little harder. We wanted to really test our crack skills. Someone we called “The Anonymous Tipper” suggested Dillingham Blues, the classic 5.10 below the bridge over the canyon. Being from Lander, WY (which is known as one of the most accessible sport climbing areas around) the need to check the route length marked in the guide book was a foreign event. Preparing for the single rope rap the entire rope was thrown into the canyon. After a few moments of what sounded like rocks hitting the water we feverishly calculated that 120 ft of the rope was floating in the North Platte. After grasping that humbling lesson we were humbled again on the sometimes flaring and the sometimes sinker jams of Dillingham. We had the blues and needed some food.

Yet dinner was cause for alarm. Fancy pre-packaged Indian food found its way everywhere. The drapes of the van will now always smell like Curry. But the final straw of the night concluded with warm, foamy ice cream and festering boredom. Emily had a solid nights rest while Joe dreamed that the van was rolling into the gorge. The power of suggestion had taken its toll in Joe’s dream. Casper local, also known as “The Anonymous Tipper” can relate to the loss of a car in a gorge.

The next morning was not an alpine start. It consisted of two brews of bad coffee around 9 a.m. and a 50 foot approach to the canyon around 10:30.  Because the route finding is done from the top of the canyon, it wasn’t all that surprising that we failed to find the 5.9 warm-up. We decided to warm up on the all-time classic and one of our top objectives; a 100ft. 5.11 crack called Wine and Roses.  The climb had two nice bolts at the top for top-roping and we couldn’t resist. After grunting and flash pumping up the classic we were truly on our ways to becoming hone masters of the rock world. Just as the last pictures were taken of our historic ascent we were bombarded by a spring hailstorm.

After collecting our gear and a brief jog to the van, the decision was to bail; a complete and total bail back to sunny Lander. We didn’t complete all of our goals for the trip but it’s nice to be able to blame the weather a bit. After driving two hours in the rain, we pulled into Lander where it was in fact sunny.