From my perspective on the sunny ledge, Mike made the third pitch look easy, an infamous crux I had heard about from Boulder bars to Yosemite campsites. Being less the climber than he is, I was more adept at experiencing the climb at its true grade. The first 80 feet of chimney were hard - hard like I haven't used the word to describe before.

Wearing first through the cotton threads of my pants, I set to work on the bare skin of my knees, shoulders, thighs, and all the other body surfaces you aren't supposed to use in climbing. I arrived at the widening crux a bruised red pulp - a strawberry in the form of a human being.

The crack widened to off-width panels of hardened sandstone glazed with a unique calcite crust that seemed to take away what little friction I could muster. I could continue to chimney, which felt like worming my way up one of those slippery tube water slides at an amusement park, or I could lie-back, a strenuous option requiring foot placements at head level for leverage on the glassy surface. Either way, the first protection was a rusty bolt likely placed by Kor himself nearly 20 feet above the crux start.

I thanked Mike mentally for the lead and proceeded to combine techniques, contorting and propelling myself against gravity through shouted profanity as much as physical effort. Elbows wedged into ribs as palms splayed flatly against the opposite wall. My hips twisted in an effort to lodge themselves permanently like a chock stone, and for every two inches gained upwards I slid one inch down in a heart-stopping loss of control.

Ten minutes saw me flopped on my back on the belay ledge like a beached whale. About the time I registered the ominous gray color filling my skyward gaze as storm clouds, a rack of cams blocked my view. "Get your ass up there," Mike encouraged, having already dispensed with the dirty business of our four pitches.

The last pitch came easy, another short squeeze chimney followed by a magnificently exposed 5.7 face with big secure holds, obviously designed by higher powers to reconnect those frayed nerves so you could fully enjoy the summit. And once you're there, it doesn't really matter how you got there. A couple hundred square feet perched 1700 feet on top of the world for your sole enjoyment (if you're climbing on a week day).

Kor-Ingalls was the worst/best day of climbing I have ever had. I will never forget and I would never trade. Had I known then the superb quality of the comparably difficult North Chimney route on the tower's opposite side, or the spectacular West Face, which I climbed later that weekend, I would have chosen them first in a heartbeat. But since I didn't, I can only recommend you suffer like I did. Now I understand Mike's roguish grin.

Getting There:
From Moab and Highway 191 head north to the Colorado River, and turn east (right) onto Rt. 128 just before the river. Stop at the natural spring on the right-hand side for great water, then continue on for several miles until you see a sign for Castle Valley, a right turn. Trace the road through the curves and down the hill until the recognizable formation of Castleton Tower is directly east of the road, and take one of several dirt turn-offs onto rough roads. Go as far as your vehicle is able, there are plenty of campsites and walking in the direction of Castelton's base should lead you quickly to a well-worn approach trail.

— Abrahm Lustgarten, MountainZone.com Correspondent