24 Hours of Horseshoe Hell

About a month ago Thomas and I, along with our friends Derek and Dan, participated in a 24 hour climbing competition at Horseshoe Canyon Ranch in Arkansas, 24 Hours of Horseshoe Hell (24HHH). I realize a month is a long time and well outside the range of when something is still generally considered "bloggable." But today I spent more time than I care to admit looking at other people's climbing blogs and videos and got inspired. My aim here is simply to let people know about a really cool, unique event that, for some reason, seems to be somewhat overlooked in the Deep South.


The rules are fairly simple: climb as much as you can in 24 hours, preferably without stopping. That was our goal. We participated last year as well and were satisfied with our performance but also felt that we could have done more. We down-shifted too much during the evening hours--not knowing what to expect in attempting to climb through the night. At the end of last year's event I was all smiles and overwhelmed by how much fun the event had been. I couldn't wait to come back. Obviously, I hadn't worked hard enough. This year, I wanted to feel like I had done everything I could in the 24 hours.

The first few hours went fast. We were warming up on moderate routes and covering a lot of ground quickly. The primary goal for both of us was to climb many routes without sacrificing too much in difficulty. Basically our strategy was to stay on routes at a grade that we felt we could on-sight consistently and relatively quickly, and therefore not burn too much time deciphering any single route. I planned to spend most of my day in the 5.9 and easy 5.10 range while Thomas would climb up to 5.11. The day passed quickly and we kept up our steady and consistent pace. We ate energy bars as we belayed. One person pulled the rope while the other got into or out of climbing shoes. I filled out scorecards while Thomas scoped out the next route. We were both always doing something. The day was going the way we wanted. The challenge would be to keep it up through the evening.Climbing through the night is what makes this particular competition challenging but also so interesting. We maintained our pace relatively well through a good chunk of the evening. Every hour on the hour, someone would start a yell and it would make its way through the horseshoe shaped canyon in a verbal equivalent of the crowd's "wave" in a football stadium. Every hour it provided a shot of adrenaline. This was fun! Until about 3 a.m. At that point I really started to feel tired. We were in the most popular and densely concentrated part of the canyon and there seemed to be a line of people waiting to get on any routes in that area that we hadn't done. Frustration was setting in. I was getting cranky.

By 5 a.m. it was apparent that a change of scenery was required. We decided to burn some time getting to the other side of the canyon with the hope that it would be less crowded and would offer more for us to do. As we were trotting across by headlamp, after about 19 hours of continuous motion, moving away from the crowd and through the quiet night felt like a battery recharge. The other side of the canyon was still and almost empty of other competitors. Once again, we settled back into our rhythms.

Thomas did his final two pitches of 5.11 at around 8 a.m., after nearly 22 hours of continuous climbing. I did my last 5.10 at around the same time. As I struggled and grunted and futzed around at the last move, trying to find the energy, I heard Thomas yell up to me to just get up there and finish it. I did, and that was it. I knew I was done. We finished out with a few mellow pitches. My throbbing fingertips made grabbing each hold an unpleasant experience.

As we walked back to the campsite we passed a boulder and for a split second I thought, "I never want to touch rock again." I also didn't want to participate in 24HHH again. I was tired. Mission accomplished.

But the perspective is always different after a couple nights of good sleep and days of skin regrowth. I was proud of what we accomplished (102 routes for Thomas; 76 for me), but already interested to see if I could do more. The event offers such a unique opportunity to push your limits, in a setting of relatively low risk and commitment, while surrounded by other equally psyched and motivated climbers. I felt a sense of camaraderie with the other competitors, whether they were climbing 5.13 or 5.7, we were all striving for the same goal.

If you are interested in participating, I would highly recommend it. If you love that part of climbing associated with long days outside and feeling wrecked after giving your best, sustained effort, I know you won't be disappointed. And you'll likely see us out there again next year. Thomas sent me an email the day after we got back to Atlanta that said, "maybe just one more year..."