Rolling hills covered with pine forests and sprawling grasslands stretch to the horizon as I drive along state Highway 24 into the Wyoming Black Hills on a warmer-than-average April afternoon. The road meanders through the foothills past old homesteads and modern ranch homes until I begin to wonder why I can't see Devils Tower in the distance. “This thing is over a thousand feet high, where is it?” I think out loud, weaving my way through orange construction cones. Almost too soon after that thought, I round a curve, crest a small hill, and there it is rising above the valley in all its magnificence.

I have to pull over and stop my car as I stare wide-mouthed at this geologic phenomenon that could almost be considered the eighth natural wonder of the world. Some smart-thinking highway planner provided a parking area with an incredible view of Devils Tower at just the right spot – where any first-time visitor should, in their awestruck moment, stop driving.

This is the first time I've ever seen Devils Tower in person, having studied it only in photograph form in numerous geology courses in college, but my first reactions fade quickly, and my body starts to sweat when I think about what I'm going to be doing this time tomorrow. I've taken on the challenge of climbing Devils Tower, so the height that first brought me, a rock-lover, to a frenzy now gives me some serious goose bumps. My lifelong fear of falling has suddenly overcome the initial excitement as I return to the main road and continue toward the monument.

While chanting “I can't believe I'm going to climb that” over and over in my head, I soon find myself turning onto the dirt road that leads me to Devils Tower Lodge and Frank Sanders, the man who will guide me to the summit to show me the “Power of the Tower.” My photographer Keith Ladzinski and his climbing buddy Dave DesBois, who has joined us in case I for some reason decide not to summit, arrived the night before. As soon as I pull up to Devils Tower Lodge, Frank, with his long white hair, mustache, and general seventies flower-child look, beckons me with a sweep of his hand toward his indoor climbing gym. I've barely taken the keys out of the ignition when Frank begins that day's lesson.

I've done some rock climbing before, so I'm well acquainted with the terms he's casually throwing at me while illustrating the moves he wants me to make on the wall. I glide right along and Frank seems impressed with my body awareness and spider-like moves; he quickly shows me to the slack line he's created outside. Used to improve balance, the slack line proves somewhat easy for me, and all those years of ballet training are coming in handy. But I'm cheating – I'm using two long, skinny sticks to help keep myself on the rope.

Frank eyes me with a “you're-not-tricking-me” kind of look and takes my sticks away from me, leaving me to find my equilibrium and balance on the line. I successfully make it three steps before I go flying off the bungee cord-like rope – not a record by any means. Keith, Dave, and I play on the slack line for a while competing to see who can reach the farthest mark before falling off. Before long, Frank pulls the three of us aside and says with a relaxed tone, “Alright crew, let's hit the Tower.”

Frank's history, or love affair as he calls it, with Devils Tower goes back more than thirty years. After finishing graduate school in 1975 with a degree in biology, he “lied, cheated, and told stories” until the Park hired him as a Seasonal Park Ranger for the summer of l976. “After the summer out here, my climbing improved dramatically and my safety improved dramatically,” Frank says.

“I knew I was hooked on Wyoming.” He stayed in the area as a substitute teacher for all the area schools and worked construction until he moved in l983. He spent the next sixteen years living and working in other places around the country but returned in 1999 to live out his dream.

Over the course of the weekend, I discover Frank is a legend in this remote section of Crook County, not only to area ranchers and residents, but also to those familiar with climbing at Devils Tower. Of the two hundred and twenty-two routes on Devils Tower, Frank has established over fifty of them during the last few decades, including the first two new routes of the New Millennium.

“I must say this is one of the few times in my life that I really know, really feel that I'm in the right place, doing the right thing,” he says.

We've filled our packs with harnesses, climbing shoes, chalk bags, ropes, locking carabiners, daisy chains, and the most important supply, water, and make the short jaunt over to the Park's Visitor Center where we're required to sign in. Before we can start the actual technical part of our climb, we have to scramble through the boulder field and, since our route is on the south side, scurry around the edge of the Tower first. The boulder field, remnants of columns that have fallen from the Tower as a result of erosion over millions of years, rises higher than it looks. Once there, we harness up and attach each other to ropes so no one falls over the edge we're walking along.

Last in our group of five – Frank, me, Keith, Dave, and the fearless Jaap Pierse, a Dutch climber who has spent the past few summers guiding with Frank – I arrive at the base of our climb and look straight up at the first pitch, appropriately dubbed the Leaning Column. Because Devils Tower is so high, it's climbed in a number of sections. Our route, the Durrance Route with the Bailey Direct finish, is done in six varying-length sections.

Frank scampers up Leaning Column like its second nature, leading the route. Since he's the first one to go up, he uses camming devices and carabiners to keep him attached to the rock should he fall. Frank has ascended this route so many times that it takes him less than five minutes to reach the next belay station where he controls the rope attached to Keith. After Keith reaches the top of the pitch, it's my turn.

Having only done face climbing before, where you climb up the face of a cliff in a fashion something like climbing a ladder, this doesn't look possible to me. Devils Tower, proclaimed by President Teddy Roosevelt as the nation's first national monument in September 1906, is known worldwide for its crack climbing. It's a style in which climbers have to use jamming (shoving any body part that will fit into cracks between the columns) and stemming (stretching yourself across a column) methods to reach the top. Hugging the column, I climb about half-way up where the column splits into two with just enough ledge for my five-foot-two-inch, hundred-pound body to stand.

Geologists debate the actual origin of Devils Tower, but it is generally agreed that the monolith was formed by the intrusion (a forced entry of molten rock into other rock types) of igneous material into the surrounding sedimentary rocks. The rock, known as phonolite (which refers to the ringing sound produced by the rock when you strike it with a hammer), is harder than granite.

Millions of years of erosion have washed away the sandstone and shales that once enclosed the Tower, but its unusual mineral composition keeps it intact. The vertical cracks that I'm climbing were created as the columns of molten lava cooled and shrunk in size.

Jaap, who takes on the nickname of “Stacey's Personal Escort Service” for the rest of the weekend, keeps a tight grip on my rope since I told him earlier I don't like any slack. In other words, when I slip, I don't want to move an inch. And he's GOOD. Having climbed for over seventeen years, he knows what he's doing and keeps my nerves from overwhelming me as I ascend the pitch. The next part involves me placing my body in between the two columns, bracing myself with my back and my feet. It's almost as if I'm sitting in a chair with my feet propped up against a wall, except there's nothing underneath me for a couple hundred feet.

Eventually I work my way up and join Keith and Jaap at the belay station, hooking into the rock with my daisy chain (a short but strong woven piece of material that keeps you from falling off the edge after you untie from the main rope). I sit on top of the column beaming, and pretty soon “Frank, I did it!” comes screaming out of my mouth.

Dave gets his first taste of the rock while I rest and go over my first climb with Frank. I tell him it was difficult, but manageable. With a broad smile, he winks at me, and says “let's do it again, but this time I want you to do the second pitch too.” We are practicing the first two pitches because they are the most difficult on the entire route. This way, we can see what we're up against and get a feel of what to expect tomorrow when we make our Summit attempt.

I head up the first pitch again; this time with more strength and less nerves, but with the same amount of verbal antics. When I crest the top and hook myself in, Frank asks how the climb was and tells me how great the “concert” was from below. I say that it wasn't so bad, and then I look up the second pitch, the Durrance Crack, which is the portion that makes this climb a 5.7 on the ratings scale. Jack Durrance pioneered this route in 1938.

At this point, I wonder what crazy brain cell let me to do this. “there's no way I'm getting up this,” I think, and turn to Jaap with a questioning demeanor. Instead of verbally responding, he merely tightens his grip on the rope in preparation for my climb. I try to find a decent foothold, although that's merely a theoretical concept on this particular portion of the climb. I struggle to make my first move and begin to whimper. “What do I do now?” I ask Jaap. Without even blinking, he turns to me and says, “You go up.”….Right !!!

Finally I find a way to inch myself up the crack, jamming my hands where I can and stemming until my body won't stem anymore. Keith is already at the top, snapping away with every grimace I make. “You're killin' it,” he says with a smile. The burn every climber feels during this part of the pitch is setting in, and it feels more like the crack is killing me. Somehow, grunting and letting out high-pitched screams, I crest the top of the crack. Out of breath and shaking, a smile creeps across my face as I look over the valley below and see the Cottonwoods shadowing the Bell Fourche River as it meanders its way around Devils Tower, never really deciding which way it wants to go.

We accomplish our mission for the day and head back to Devils Tower Lodge for some dinner and rest. Lorna Applequist, Frank's partner, has prepared a delicious dinner for us, that we all enjoy Mightily !! Worn out from my morning drive and afternoon climb, I head to bed early but toss and turn for a couple of hours. I can't get Devils Tower and my climbing out of my head, but I finally manage to sneak in a few hours sleep before my alarm wakes me before sunrise. So nervous I can't eat breakfast, I pace the living room floor until Frank tells me it's time to go.

It's a chilly Saturday morning, and the Tower has a menacing glow to me in the shadows. We register at the Park Visitors Center and Chuck Lindsey, the Park Climbing Ranger, offers a quick “It'll be Awesome!!” bit of encouragement. We head off up the boulder field, taking our time since we're the first ones there.

As it's the off-season, we don't really have to worry about crowding on the route we're taking, and throughout the day, only a few parties follow us up the Tower. During the peak of summer, however, Devils Tower gets crowded. Over a Thousand summits occur annually, which isn't that many until you consider the main climbing season is only four months long.

The first and second pitches aren't so bad today, but I'm more nervous now that I'm several hundred feet farther off the ground than I was a little earlier. Frank, Keith and Dave have already climbed ahead, so it's just Jaap and I at the base of the third pitch. Jaap asks why I am nervous, so I remind him of my fear of falling. “But you're still on the ground,” he says with a serious look on his face. Technically, he's right. Except this ground just happens to be almost nine hundred feet high.

The third and fourth pitches, Cussing Crack and Flake Crack respectively, are traditionally climbed together, but Jaap asks if I want to break them down into two. Pondering the idea for a moment, I consider the fact that I'm the only woman in the group. A moment of female empowerment washes over me, and I tell him if the guys can do it, so can I. Before I can blink my eyes, Jaap has successfully climbed the pitch and is waiting patiently for me to follow.

I can understand where Cussing Crack gets its name as I slowly find my way to the top, significantly adding more bumps and bruises to my already established battle scars. Although painful, I'm not too fazed by this section, and the higher I get, the easier the climbing gets. I jam my hands, arms, legs, whatever appendage I can fit into the cracks to keep myself going.

At one point, I cram my whole body into the crack because it looks like the right thing to do. But when I find a convenient place to put my foot to hoist myself up to the next handhold, my head's stuck. I've jammed myself so far into the crack that I can't get out now without reversing my last move and un-cramming my poor little head. That's why Frank makes me wear a climbing helmet.

While I wait at the base of the fifth pitch for my turn, I can see land-loving visitors using the telescope viewers along the Tower Trail to look up at me and watch my every move. Waving down at them is a nice break from the intensity of the climb, and when they wave back, a broad smile spreads across my face from ear to ear. Maybe watching me will inspire them to do something a little adventurous one day.

This pitch, Chalkstone Crack, is done before I know it, and pretty soon I realize I've only got one more section to climb before reaching the summit. The butterflies fluttering in my stomach aren't from nerves anymore; it's all excitement from here on out. What seemed impossible this time yesterday now doesn't feel so hard – it's just a matter of getting it done and enjoying the climb along the way. The last pitch, the Bailey Direct, is long, but there's a great resting place halfway up to catch my breath.

The guys have already reached the last belay station and they're all staring down at me, laughing as I lean against a rock, panting and smiling. “Come on, Rock Star, get on up here and join us,” Frank yells down.

I clamber up the last bit, utterly enjoying the small face climb that sits between me and the top of Devils Tower. After hooking myself in with the daisy chain, it's only a short scramble to the top. Frank grabs our attention.

“Due to the policy and philosophy of Devils Tower Lodge, its Staff, Management, and Employees, we can take you no further,” he declares. “You must find the top on your own.” With childlike smiles, Keith, Dave, and I climb the last few rocks to the top, and I breathe a sigh of relief. In more awe than the day before, I can't believe I am standing atop this Giant Tower of Rock.

We all wander around the top, taking a moment to ourselves to appreciate the beauty of the valley below and delight in the feat we just accomplished.

We find our way to the middle of the summit, which is about the size of a football field, and Frank pulls out the summit log. While the wind whips at my hair and Dave pulls out the digital camera, I add my name to the long list of others. For about an hour I'm Queen of Devils Tower, and nothing, not even the fear of having to go back down again, can take that away from me. The experience at the top isn't something I'll talk about, except to say that it's breathtaking and beautiful.

With the same excitement as a kid in a candy store, I make the traditional cell phone call to my parents. “Hey mom. Where are you?” I casually ask her. “Guess where I am right now...I'm at the top of Devils Tower. Can you believe it!”

After Frank's tour of the summit, we make our way back to the first rappel station. The age-old expression that what goes up must come down is pounding in my head, and my whole body tightens up as I realize that now I have to go down. I love heights – feeling like you're on top of the world is incredible.

I just don't like coming down.

After a long coaxing by everyone, including another party that is reaching the summit, and, I'll admit, a few tears, I manage to force my body over the edge. The worst part about this is that although you climb the tower in six or seven pitches, you rappel down in three. Because I'm not experienced in rappelling, I'm choosing to have Frank lower me while Jaap rappels next to me. This is a much scarier experience than the actual climb because of the fear factor for me, and Frank tells me later it's a very common experience for most of his clients.

After finally reaching the bottom, we stop to take some goofy photographs and then head back to the cars. I can't stop talking as we walk, and I feel nothing but elated Joy. We get back to Devils Tower Lodge where Lorna is waiting for us. I tell her I made it, and she gives me a big hug and wants to hear all about it. Her cooking is not to be missed, so we stop talking long enough to eat, but only after we share what we're Thankful for.

I thank Frank for being a patient guide, and for providing me the encouragement I needed at the right moments. His casual, heartfelt demeanor fits his job well, and I'm not sure I would have done what I did with any other guide or had as much fun. I thank Keith too for his encouragement, and Dave for his playful jokes and random moments of silliness that kept me laughing and having fun all the way to the top. I thank Jaap, a quiet, kind man, for also being a patient guide, and for having the in-sight to know what I needed before I did.

That night, I wonder why Frank decided to become a climbing guide. “I've always taught, I've always guided,” he says. “I've always felt that climbing helped me, and I want to offer it to anybody else who might receive a benefit from it. Like I say, it's always fun, and it's not the climbing, it's the people.”

This summer was the fourth season for Frank and Devils Tower Lodge, and each year his client list grows. Currently, the number of clients he's taken climbing, whether they reach the summit or not, is in excess of five hundred people.

We sit around the dining table in the Sunroom sharing our thoughts on the previous day's climb. “For me, it was like one mass inhalation from the bottom to the top. When we climb, we're climbing the steepness of the rock plus the steepness of the fear factor,” Frank says. “The higher we got, instead of anybody freakin' out, I sensed elation. I sensed a liberation. I sensed a strengthening. I sensed that as we got higher, especially you Stacey, you got stronger and more confident and more efficient, and you just started flowing and that's just excellent.”

We talk about what parts were most difficult for us, and how we adjusted to the style of climbing since neither Dave, Keith nor I have had much experience with crack climbing. We reflect on our time at the top, and how we felt after reaching our goal. Then Frank mentions the trip back down.

“I think we showed again that the summit is only half-way and that we all have our personal issues,” he says. “And, for some it's harder coming down than going up. I used to ask myself how I would react if a summit day were my first day climbing, but I know the answer. It makes me so much in admiration and appreciation of people that can step right out of the office in Casper and come up here and go, grow, and glow.” He smiles at me, and I know I will never forget my days with Frank.

From the first recorded climb in l893 when two local ranchers used a home made wooden ladder for most of their ascent, the Tower has exerted a mystical hold on thousands of people. The Natioal Park Service has kept a record of climbers since the first technical ascent was made by Fritz Wiessner in 1937, and since then, the number of climbers who have reached the summit has grown to over fifty-two thousand. Each season, about five thousand climbers play on Devils Tower, but only about fifteen hundred ever make the summit. As I watch the Tower fade in my rearview mirror on Monday morning, I realize my name can be added to the list, and it feels great.

I pass the parking area again, but when I pull in and stop my car, it's not out of sheer awe. This time, it's out of Pride and a new sense of Confidence and Courage. I stare at the tower for a few minutes, relishing in the glory. Driving away, I say out loud, almost as if talking directly to the tower, “I conquered that baby.”

The End

Safety Guidelines:

Always check the weather forecast before visiting the park or embarking on a climbing route up Devils Tower as the weather can change significantly at a moment's notice here. Be prepared for sudden thunderstorms and lightening, especially while climbing. Visitors are welcome to wander through the black-tailed prairie dog town, but do not feed them. Prairie dogs are known to bite people who attempt to feed them, and they carry diseases, some of which can be fatal to humans. “We want visitors to have a safe experience,” says the Monument's Climbing Ranger, Chuck Lindsay. “Stay hydrated, don't climb too far above the boulder field, and don't disturb the natural or cultural resources.”

Climbers are welcome to climb year-round weather permitting, but are required to register both immediately before and after their climb. The Park forbids any alteration of the rock, including placing bolts or permanent pitons. Hardware and equipment must never be left unattended, so climbers are required to clean their routes as they ascend. Rangers enforce a mandatory closing of the North Face during Prairie Falcon nesting every spring. Camping is not allowed on Devils Tower. Be a low-impact visitor by practicing “Leave No Trace” ethics and following all Park regulations.

Hours And Entrance Fees:

Devils Tower National Monument is open year-round, but the Visitor Center operates seasonally. The center is open currently through October 19 when it closes for the winter; call for seasonal hours. Restroom facilities and information about the Park are available at the center, and publications can be purchased at the Devils Tower Natural History Association bookstore. Park entrance fees are eight dollars for an individual vehicle and three dollars for pedestrians, motorcycles, and bicycles.

Directions:

Those traveling east bound on Interstate 90, exit at Moorcroft, but westbound travelers should exit at Sundance. Follow U.S. Highway l4 north to Devils Tower Junction. Then, follow state Highway 24 north to Devils Tower National Monument. The Visitor Center is located three miles from the Monument entrance. The nearest commercial airports are located in Gillette, Wyoming and Rapid City, South Dakota. Private planes will be able to land at Hulett's new airport next year.

For more information, contact Devils Tower National Monument at P.O. Box 1, Devils Tower, WY 827l4 or call them at 307-467-5283