The definition of the term 'sandbag' as excerpted from the American Heritage Dictionary:
sand·bag

3. Slang c. To downplay or misrepresent one's ability in a game or activity in order to deceive (someone), especially in gambling: sandbagged the pool player by playing poorly in the first game when stakes were low.

A View from the Top:
It was during a blue-grey dawn that I remember the view of the surreal granite spires of the Needles. The vantage point from the comfort of my sleeping bag atop Dome Rock a few miles away proved to be an inspirational, if not daunting one. Certainly, it was a view that was a catalyst for rock climbing dreams. However, that view had not prepared me for witnessing the Needles first hand, or experiencing their true intensity and magical beauty.

Curiosity had me taking a closer look via a trail to the 'upper' Needles that started at the end of a narrow dirt road that branched off what was known as the Great Western Divide Highway. The hike was quite remarkable in itself, since it garnered views of a neighboring spire 'The Hermit' along with Mount Whitney, Mount Langley and adjacent fourteen thousand foot peaks of the Sierra crest. Our casual stroll took the better part of an hour to reach our destination, the rocks.

The Westernmost Needle had a most peculiar structure on its summit that was placed there specifically as a fire lookout. Constructed in the 'forties with materials packed in on horseback, this single room 'house' sat precariously on top of its summit blocks; defying any practical reasoning whatsoever. As viewed from the trail the lookout and its foundation appeared to be as Noah's Ark left on Mount Arat after the Great Flood. Its lengthy and airy stairway of old angle iron, chain link fence, concrete and boards wound its way up smaller craggy buttresses from the end of the trail to the lookout.

Awestruck from this totally new perspective, I spent a great deal of my time on the lookout tower's catwalk gazing through the telescope mounted there. The walls were astonishingly beautiful; white granite accented in the colors of gold, black and yellow. From a neophyte climber's view, the Needles' vertical spires, with their mysterious shapes, colors and surreal beauty had me in a state of shock.

It wasn't until recent years prior to my visit that many of these Needles had been climbed; most of them for the very first time. Fred Beckey, famous for many of his first ascents, accompanied by a variety of partners had spent some time amongst these walls; climbing a significant route on every major escarpment. They too had been influenced by the Needles' surreal nature. The names that they had chosen for each of the spires seemed a true reflection of the power of this place: the Magician, Djin, Sorcerer, Charlatan, Witch, Warlock and Voodoo Dome.

The temporary resident of the lookout tower, Dave, 'the lookout', was the caretaker of a rudimentary guidebook to the Needles. 'Rudimentary' meant that the guide only cataloged a few of the more recent first ascents, not the original 'Beckey' routes. This book was merely a binder with drawings and descriptions of climbs at the Needles and was maintained and utilized by whosoever felt the need to. It was always kept in the lookout tower and was 'open source'. During that period, many of the original routes had yet to be repeated, explaining the absence of information about those climbs. This lack of information helped to fuel whatever fears of the unknown that we may have had and that had us seriously questioning our motives for climbing.

The most striking line that I viewed that day from the catwalk had just recently been climbed. It was on the Witch Needle and was called, "Igor Unchained." The Witch as seen from the lookout appears as a vertical, pyramid shaped wall, enhanced with beautiful black and yellow lichens. Igor Unchained consisted of crack systems that took center stage near the middle of that wall and topped out just left of the true summit. "What an outrageous line!" I exclaimed. "The guide here shows that it's only 5.8! No F-ING Way! That almost looks like aid from here."

A Safe Haven:
Soon after my Needles visit it was easy to retreat to "The Slabs." During any given weekend, all or part of the group of local climbers could be found at Kern Slabs. This venue represented a safe haven for many of us who began our climbing experience there. The Slabs was a convenient place to climb or boulder and an easy place to find a climbing partner or share our experiences. Kern Slabs is a small 200' foot 'low angle' slab. Nonetheless, this venue harbored a great variety of routes for us to be challenged on.

While most of us were still figuring out what we were doing on the rock, John McGee had already found his niche. John started climbing at the same time as most of us. He had natural talent for climbing and a cool head to back it up. Though, at the time many of us did not understand his vision. Whether we liked it or not, it was John's example that we were to follow.

John became a regular partner of an experienced local climber, Joel Matta. Right away, they established two challenging test pieces on the Slabs, "A Piece of Cake" and "Cornflakes." I eventually repeated (falling in the process) these routes realizing that the spirit and style of boldness that those climbs represented were to be part of my future. It was soon after that I was able to join them on some new adventures into the unexplored parts of the Lower Kern Canyon.

It was unfortunate for the climbing community to have John abruptly quit climbing within that first year in favor of a new spouse. Of course, we did what he would have liked us to continue doing...and that was to go climbing!

Ordeal by Fire:
We learned to climb without the convenience of a guidebook. However, back then, it was no big deal, not having a guidebook. That is, because none existed for our territory and we were unaccustomed to their use. In our small band of newbies the real issue came down to each individual to find the willingness and desire within themselves to lead up the rock. Those were the days when the dreaded tourist question, "How do they get the ropes up there?" carried some real meaning. There was an overwhelming desire to climb that got us to the base of a rock. Our determination to get to the top of these routes seemed unfettered by any of the sufferings that come with wilderness climbing. Perhaps, because we felt that we shouldn't come back 'empty handed' for our efforts.

A few excerpts from Doug Robinson's "The Whole Natural Art of Protection," published in the Chouinard catalog became our 'Mantra'. Everything else was supposed to come together after that...

"Where protection is not assured by a usable crack long unprotected runouts sometimes result, and the leader of commitment must be prepared to accept the risks and alternatives which are only too well defined. Personal qualities - judgment, concentration, boldness - the ordeal by fire, take precedence, as they should, over mere hardware.

..."But every climb is not for every climber; the ultimate climbs are not democratic. The fortunate climbs protect themselves by being unprotectable and remain a challenge that can be solved only by boldness and commitment backed solidly by technique. Climbs that are forced clean by the application of boldness should be similarly respected, lest a climber be guilty of destroying a line for the future's capable climbers to satisfy his impatient ego in the present -- by waiting he might become one of the future capables. Waiting is also necessary; every climb has its time, which need not be today.

..."And having the humility to back off rather than continue in bad style - - a thing well begun is not lost. The experience cannot be taken away. By such a system there can never again be "last great problems" but only "next great problems."

McEastwood:
New blood showed up at the Slabs one day. I had never witnessed anyone close the stubborn lid of the trunk of their car with their rock hammer before. This was Guy Thompson. Guy had a brash, although likable friendly character. Some of the locals thought Guy, with his 'Clint' kinda look, along with his outspoken qualities, reminded them of John McGee and earned him the nickname, "McEastwood"...

Joel had now quit climbing due to a bad shoulder and a new commitment to an orthopedic practice. My pool of local partners was wearing thin. Many of them seemed all too content to stay at the Slabs. So, I was ready for a new partner. Guy was keen to perform his part of climbing duties trading leads and the driving. We hit it off well and in short order we did some repeats of some recent first ascents and made a successful trip to Joshua Tree. Without a second thought, early that Spring, Guy and I were hiking into the Needles.

"...it's only 5.8!":
It was too early in the season for the lookout tower to be occupied. The tower was locked and boarded up. It was just us and the Needles. The first route that we climbed that Spring was the long elegant buttress of the Magician. Since we lacked sufficient information on the climb we literally just started at the very bottom. The very toe of the long buttress was not really where the existing ten pitch route was suppose to start, but we eventually got back on track. Climbing the additional seven or eight rope lengths up the spine of the Magician made for a pretty long, but fun day.

Our next objective was "Igor Unchained" on the Witch Needle. The view from the base was more wild than I had imagined. The first two pitches had been entirely hidden from my view from the tower! They were not as steep as the summit pitch, but they were cold, grey and ominous in the early morning shadows. We both were considerably intimidated and Guy conceded all the leading on Igor to me due to my 'experience'. We discussed that since the route was only 5.8, it shouldn't be as tough as it looked.

Carefully, we organized our tools for the task: One 11mm by 45 meter rope, one set of Chouinard Stoppers, sizes 1 thru 8 (by the way, those are all the sizes that were available back then), one set of Chouinard Hexentrics, sizes 1 thru 11, twenty carabiners, eight 12" by 9/16" slings and ten 24" by 1" slings. Our E.B. climbing shoes were usually the last item to put on since they typically were very uncomfortable.

Nervously, I set forth. The first few moves seemed a bit awkward and after reaching a tiny stance to rest on I got in a good Stopper. Assessing the pitch above, I realized that I would have to be very careful in choosing the type and quantity of my protection, due to the length and the continuous size of the cracks ahead. Most of the pitch above was a straight-in crack in a left-leaning corner. Even though the angle of the pitch was not too steep, the angle of the corner made for very strenuous climbing; relentless, above the shoulder hand/finger jams and continuous stemming out with my left foot. Hand jam, finger jam, stem, toe jam, hand jam, hand jam, stem, toe jam, finger jam, hand jam, stem, toe jam...

At a point just about mid-way up the pitch the main crack bottomed out into a shallow groove. Placing my only #8 Hex in a spot before this section was bittersweet. It was a super good piece, but the better crack above the bottomed section appeared to be '#8' size for a long way. I sure would have liked two more #8 Hexes! I struggled to figure out the moves through this section fearing for the impeding runout ahead. I was just about to peel off when somehow I stayed on the rock by pinching a bizarre knob that was on the outside edge of the corner. This allowed me to reach good jams above the groove. Fortunately, I still had some energy left. It was a long way before I could get some protection, but the jams were solid and the moves were not as physical as below. Nearing the belay stance the crack widened up a bit, forcing me to use up the rest of the big pieces on my rack. At the stance, I had barely enough gear remaining on my rack to build a belay anchor and I pretty much used up the full length of the rope too. The rusty fixed piton at the belay did not instill much confidence over my own anchor placements, but I used it anyway. Guy followed and remarked on how I had appeared to fly up to grasp the knob at the groove. I was just glad I could utilize it at the moment that I had needed it.

"That was one helluva 5.8!" I exclaimed. Had this been an indication of future events for the next two pitches? This was certainly a heavy thought. I was concerned, but kept a 'poker face'. Guy and I re-racked the gear efficiently, careful not to drop anything. We were still in the cool shadow of the morning, while the sun teased us by warming the spires and everything else across the way. The second lead was obscured by a three-foot roof directly above the belay stance. The only way of passing this obstacle appeared to be via the straight-in wide crack through the roof. Moving over this giant step required me to throw my right arm and shoulder into the crack, then followed by my right foot. I was able to toss a huge Hexentric back in the crack and clip my rope into it for protection. It was as much of a curse as it was a blessing. Many times in wide cracks the protection and the rope become yet another obstacle to climb around. "Give me some slack, Dammit!" I urgently ordered Guy, but at the same moment realizing that my own knee was trapping the rope in the crack, "Shee-it." Remember, be nice to your belayer!

Just as I was turning the lip of the roof I discovered a tiny black knob out to the left. It was good to be past that part! The pitch above was a darkish, low angle ramp. The difficulty eased for many moves; face climbing with some good jams. Eventually, the route appeared to go out left in order to bypass some small overhangs and a scary loose-looking block. It was difficult to place any trustworthy protection before turning the corner. I had to settle for faith in the one good piece that I placed before my traverse. After committing to the moves around the corner it became obvious to me that protection possibilities diminished for a distance.

The difficulty of the climbing in this section did not look trivial, especially with the prospects of a long, tumbling fall back into the corner below. I did my best to stall in order to assess and re-assess my situation, even though my situation was "only too well defined." Then, as my tunnel vision cleared, I noticed a small seam on the wall of the corner to my right. I used my cleaning tool to remove a bit of soil and a couple of loose crystals discovering a "usable crack." I have to say, that was one of the best #1 Stopper placements that I had ever seen. Nonetheless, this didn't instill a morsel of confidence in me. At this point, I guess I was either too tired to balance there or too scared to down climb; sometimes instinct for survival beats out any higher reasoning, "In all of the excitement, I don't remember whether I placed five pieces or six. That's when you start asking yourself, do you feel lucky...Well do ya...? Shut-up! You've got protection. Get your ass up there!"

The thin face climbing up the corner, combined with sketchy protection had been very difficult indeed. Above, I was rewarded with some welcome hand jams and some easier scrambling to a belay niche at the base of the final headwall pitch. For Guy, following these pitches had not been as a remarkable experience for him as it was for me. There is a major difference in the 'sharp end' of the rope versus following the leader. Leading can be the definition of the climbing experience, requiring a person's full inner strength, skill and wit to be intensely focused on nothing else but the moment at hand. Following, no matter how enjoyable or difficult the climbing, is just climbing.

Guy and I were nested in this triangular niche; formed by the intersection of two of the major cracks that split the great wall of the Witch Needle. The final lead overhung slightly above the belay was horribly daunting. A huge granite block jutted out from the brink above. Was it loose? I would soon find out since there was no way around it. I flung the rack out of the way several times as I stemmed up the overhanging wall. I felt like whimpering as I had to surmount the evil block, standing on its top edge. Sticking out like a hound's tooth, I'd have to avoid falling on it too. Not good. The protection was great, so I set off in a wild vertical layback to a spot where I could then bury my appendages into the crack for not only a physical, but psychological rest as well.

The climbing was steep, the moves for the most part, continuously difficult. However, the good crack began to get sparse. I could visualize where I was on the upper wall. If I were to view myself from afar, I was smack dab in the center of the brilliantly yellow lichens covered wall of the Witch. Unfortunately, while in her grasp I could not appreciate her beauty, only her obstinacy. Medium sized Stoppers seem to be solid in the intermittent crack. Good pro, but barely enough room for my fingertips! There was a scant amount of holds to make my passage; a fingertip jam on my right every four feet or so and the slightest face climbing holds to balance up on for the remainder of the section. It was a relief to pass a roof with big jug holds on and around it. There was even a nice stance above it as well! Of course, I had not finished the lead. It was not over yet.

The final cracks to the summit area were thin. The wall was covered in a black leafy-like lichens that when disturbed, had a tendency to temporarily blind the perpetrator. The finger locks were superb but the foot holds elusive, often hiding under the lichens. Then, I again realized, that I was low on gear. Many of the much needed medium stoppers for this section I had used below. What ever I left on my rack to place, I had to make the best of it. Above, the primary crack that I was blissfully following soon ended. A tenuous move to another crack that curiously started to the right of where the other had ended got me onto the home stretch. Soon, I would hear Guy down below announcing that I was entirely out of rope, just as I placed an anchor below the summit slabs. Guy climbed up, retrieving virtually my whole rack from the route below. While on top of the summit we signed the register; a notebook with a pencil in an old cookie tin. There we gazed around at a new perspective of the Needles and of our 'climbing experience.'

Author's Note:
After their first ascent of Igor Unchained in 1976, Herb Laeger and Paul Clark had rated the climb 5.8. In my opinion, THAT truly was THE Sandbag of the Century.

- The huge roof on Mega Dome is called "True Grit," II 5.10 A1*. The roof has not been entirely freed yet. Climb up and belay from the crack below the roof. Hand, fist, off-width and fists eventually lead to a long 5.6 hand crack. Easy climbing above leads to the top of the ridge.

- The shark fin-like dome, above and to the south of Mega Dome has one very difficult route starting on its northwest arete. "Digitally Remastered," II 5.11 **** is a fierce finger crack to steep face climbing protected by placed gear while on lead. As most of these routes, this one also finishes on the arete!

Lamont Pinnacles Topo .pdf

Lamont Pinnacles, corrected Guidebook page.pdf

Waiting to Exhale Topo .pdf

CA Dreamin' Topo .pdf

Bigger Than Life Topo .pdf

True Grit Topo .pdf

TopoZone - USGS Map of the Lamont Peak Area - link