Dagan Holocaust

The 'Right Prosset Face' always casts a long, imposing shadow, but none more so than when contemplating the notorious 'Dagan Holocaust' (6+). This isn't just a route; it's a profound test of mental fortitude, a dance with exposure on a canvas of unforgiving rock.

From the outset, the route demanded precision. The first few pitches, though seemingly 'warm-up' 5s, quickly revealed the slickness of the stone and the subtle trickery of its holds. Every move had to be deliberate, every foot placement exact, as the rock offered little in the way of generosity. The real challenge began around the third pitch, where the '6+' grade truly earned its stripes. A steep, slightly overhanging wall with sparse, technical holds loomed above, the crux of the climb.

Pushing through this section was a battle of wills. My fingers screamed on microscopic edges, my feet searched desperately for purchase on polished smears, and the run-out above the last piece of gear felt immense. It was a moment where commitment outweighed doubt, where the only way was up. The exposure amplified with every meter gained, the world spreading out beneath us in a dizzying panorama that both inspired and reminded us of our precarious position. The air thinned, and the wind whispered ancient stories through the cracks.

Reaching the summit was a rush of relief and triumph. The silence, broken only by our heavy breathing, was profound. Looking back down the dizzying line of our ascent, the 'Dagan Holocaust' stood as a testament to perseverance and the human spirit's desire to push boundaries. The descent, a series of careful rappels, was a sober reminder that the mountain isn't conquered until you're safely on solid ground. Back at the base, with the sun dipping below the horizon, the echoes of the climb resonated deep within. It was more than just a climb; it was an experience etched into memory, a humbling encounter with the raw power of nature and the limits of one's own resolve.

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