Acopan Tepui, Venezuela
December 2006The line of the Dempster-Libecki Variation (V 5.11 A2, 13 pitches) on the northern pillar of Acopan Tepui. Courtesy of Kyle Dempster
Kyle Dempster and Mike Libecki
Summary
During his winter break from the University of Utah, Kyle Dempster joined Mike Libecki in Venezuela to complete the Dempster-Libecki Variation (V 5.11 A2, 2,000 feet, 13 pitches) on Acopan Tepui in Gran Sabana. Dempster's trip was backed by an AAC Mountain Fellowship Grant from the REI Challenge Fund.
Kyle Dempster Reports:
"Two 70-pound bags each, that's all we get!" Mike Libecki’s message said. There was a terrorist-related embargo for travelers to Venezuela. We removed from our bags a few weapons that only rock climbing suspects would have in their possession: The portaledge, some Clif bars and other food items, and some of the rack would have to stay behind. Anyway, the gear Libecki had left after his attempt on the wall four years earlier would suffice…or so we thought.
Kyle Dempster (left) and Mike Libecki (back) approach the village of Yune-ken. Courtesy of Kyle Dempster
Hugging our mothers, fathers, daughters, and other enduring supporters, we departed our homes in Salt Lake City on December 28, leaving behind a fresh foot of snow. Three days later, Libecki and I and our Spanish-speaking-only pilot taxied out to a Venezuelan runway in a chartered Cessna. After reciting the rosary, our pilot gunned the plane, we rumbled into the sky, and my stomach dropped. The view was magnificent. Meandering rivers and streams snaked through the heavily forested jungle, thousand-foot waterfalls seemingly dropped from nowhere, miles of rolling grasslands glistened in the intense equatorial sunshine, and broad red and black sandstone plateaus rose skyward. I pictured Mesozoic creatures like the Brachiosaurus eating leaves from the high canopy, herds of raptors racing across the open grassland in pursuit of their next meal, the daunting T-rex stalking his next victim, and archaeopteryxes flying alongside our Cessna. The Gran Sabana was truly a dinosaur’s world.
Our plane circled the village of Yune-ken, and from the window I watched as its residents emerged from their homes and gathered in curiosity. Consisting of 10 or so grass-roofed, mud-walled homes with no electricity and a population of around 40, Yune-ken contributed to the prehistoric atmosphere. Leonardo, Yune-ken's chief, received the gifts that our family and friends back home in Utah had donated. The soccer balls, clothing, school supplies, and especially the Juicy Fruit were all accepted with smiles, oohs, and ahhs.
Our time frame in Venezuela restricted us from visiting extensively with these people, and less than two hours after arriving we began hiking four miles to our first camp at the edge of the jungle with our hired porters. As they had very few options for making money, I wondered what percentage of the villagers’ yearly income would come from the 50,000 bolivars ($25 US) we paid each porter. Some of them wore rubber boots; others were barefoot. Shaking hands, exchanging smiles, and relaying that in dos semanas (two weeks) we would need their help again, we left them to head back to their lives in Yune-ken.
Not the First
Better than coffee: Steep jugging on the Acopan Tepui. Courtesy of Kyle Dempster
The next day we hiked for two miles through the jungle paralleling the Acopan massif. While walking, Libecki described the differences he’d seen in the village of Yune-ken and along the trail from his trip four years ago. Instead of machete-ing our way through the jungle, we were walking on a relatively well-defined trail that was "conveniently" marked with candy wrappers. I remembered that song, "The times they are a changing."
Later in the day, we fixed the initial jungle pitches necessary to get to the base of the wall. The five pitches of roped jungle-madness consisted of slippery footholds, slimy tree braches, numerous spiders, thick vegetation, and heavily scraped arms and legs. But eventually we conquered and arrived at the base of the main wall.
A bolt! Fifteen feet off the ground and only eight inches away from a bomber cam placement. The gear, ropes, and portaledge that Libecki had left four years prior were gone. The rumors that we had heard back in Yune-ken of European climbers in the area were true. They came, they bolted, and when they were done they left their wrappers. Did they summit? Is this a sport climb? Where are we? What the hell? Not to mention the fact that we no longer had the portaledge or the extra ropes we expected—and that we would come to find were absolutely mandatory. We rappelled back down the jungle lines, walked the two miles back to camp, and concluded that time would be the only answer to our questions and concerns.
In one exercise-filled day, we managed to shuttle all of our stuff to the base of the wall, establish camp, and climb the first pitch. Mike gave me the honor of getting us started into the vertical word. A beautiful 5.10+ finger and hand crack out a medium-sized roof got things going. Above the roof the pitch finished with 100 feet of easier ground. Gaining height above the jungle canopy and plugging killer hand jams, I fell in love with Venezuelan sandstone. It was getting dark so I motored out the last bit, fixed the lines, and rappelled to the ground. It was a great day, but little did I know that more excitement was yet to come. That evening, after applying hot sauce to my delicious Mountain House dinner, I turned on my headlamp and out of the corner of my eye noticed a small, black scorpion swinging his battle-axe and sprinting toward my exposed thigh. "Kill it!" shouted Mike. Already one step ahead of him, I retaliated with the bottom of my flip-flop.
The next two days involved more close encounters with arachnids and a better example of the rock quality that we would find on the remainder of the cliff (i.e. shit). Contrasting with this Venezuelan spice were the randomly placed bolts we found to the left of the natural line Libecki and I were following. It seemed like for every pitch that we climbed, the sport climbers would veer left up impressively steep face climbing, drill a two bolt anchor, and then cut back right to the natural line where Libecki had drilled anchors four years earlier. Interesting, to say the least.
After four pitches we entered new terrain—for us, anyway, but it was not virgin. Fresh rock dust from a drill and even chalk marked the sport climbers' chosen path. Our psych was blown. The hopes of climbing a first ascent were gone, and the lost gear presented another issue. The extreme steepness of the wall made it mandatory for us to leave fixed ropes on many of the pitches, and since we only had been able to bring five ropes with us, we would have to figure something else out.
Back in Yune-ken we had spotted a villager carrying around a butchered chunk of rope. We decided to walk down and investigate. After employing some disturbing Spanglish that only an American would be proud of, we were led by one of the villagers to another mud-walled hut a mile or so from town. Some discussion followed and the owner eventually emerged with several sections of rope and Libecki's portaledge. While our psych for the route never fully returned, the sections of rope lent to us by the villagers at least allowed us to continue upward, and so we agreed to forge onward.
Fueled mainly by our curiosity about the mysterious world that awaited us on top, we managed to climb the remaining nine pitches in five days. Some 5.11 free climbing coupled with A2 moves on horrific rock was the norm. Anytime we could avoid the bolted madness we did, but eventually we found ourselves following the Europeans' line, with the exception of the last two pitches.
Weird and Wonderful
Did we remember the Fruit Loops? Courtesy of Kyle Dempster
Despite my disappointment with the climb itself, the jungle experience was fantastic. Blue and gray tarantulas hid in cracks, adding new excitement to cam placements. Beautiful green and yellow parakeets awoke us in the mornings with songs of love. Living dinosaurs seemed to scream from the jungle canopy 1,000 feet below. And the waterfalls that streamed down the walls were awe-inspiring.
The summit was not at all what we had expected. Two thousand feet closer to the intense sun, the top was a blackened, boulder-strewn world with intricate flowers hiding in cracks and crevices. Standing in the sun down in Yune-ken was like standing next to an oven; standing at the top of Acopan, 3,000 feet farther out on the equatorial bulge, it felt like you had opened the door and put your head inside. We hung out for an hour, took in the magnificent sights, and rappelled back toward our families in Utah.
Going on a trip with Mike Libecki is a privileged experience for anyone, and the opportunity to climb with him in Venezuela was a superb learning experience that I will never forget. His positive philosophy and dominating love for life are inspiring. As a University of Utah student, my ability to participate on this Venezuelan adventure would not have been possible without the gracious funding from the AAC's Mountain Fellowship Grant. Thanks to everyone at the club, especially the old dogs, for all your generous contributions directed at enhancing the sport of climbing.
Editor’s Note
The German-Venezuelan route on Acopan's north pillar is called Purgatory (VI 5.12, 20 pitches). It was climbed in December 2006 by Kurt Albert, Holger Heuber, Stefan Glowacz, and Ivan Calderon, along with a photographer, cameraman, and doctor; Klaus Fengler's shots of the climb can be seen in a Stern magazine article on Glowacz's website: www.glowacz.de.