Honda CR-V sleeper and storage platform conversion, aka, how two people can live for a week in a CR-V and not kill each other

So, I spend days on my trip report, and what do you guys really want? Pictures of the freaking Honda CR-V. Oh well. I try. Here, the long-awaited Extrememobile post. Or, if you prefer… how to make a CR-V into a C-RV.

The backstory… Climbing Partner bought a Vanagon camper earlier this year, but she — literally — tried to kill him (brakes went out) so “Bitchface” ultimately found a new home. With Climbing Partner’s eight grade history teacher, Mr. Short, through a random Craigslist interaction. The transaction was complete with a little free career counseling and life lessons from Mr. Short. And, Bitchface actually somehow seemed to made an attempt on Mr. Short’s life even before he picked her up, delaying his acquisition of said Vanagon while he was “in the hospital.” Wisdom from Climbing Partner…

“Lesson learned: never make a camper a car. Instead, make a car a camper.”

After looking at various roadtripmobile options, he decided to built out his Honda CR-V with a sleeping and storage platform. Since I get to benefit from the additional comfort without any of the expense or work (spare a few loosened nuts during the seat-ectomy stage) the least I could do is document his fine handiwork here (especially since y’all want to see it so badly. Jesus. I thought I was the only one who devoted this much brainpower to how to sleep comfortably in a car.).

Here’s the before:

Step one was a full 2nd row seatectomy. Talk about fun. We pulled the entire rear seat out one day in a matter of a few minutes in his apartment parking lot. Here’s during:

and here’s after completion of the seatectomy:

Climbing Partner’s design basically involves a box in the middle for support, custom fit to the CR-V’s interior. On top of that are pieces of plywood “platform” attached with hinges, so that the storage is easily accessible. That’s what fits behind the front seats, in “driving” mode. In “sleeping” mode, the two front seats push forward, and there’s a driver side extension and passenger side extension. The extensions have plumbing pipe legs that screw in, and are attached to the “box” through a tongue-and-groove system (L-brackets into a receiving bracket fashioned by Climbing Partner and his dad). The two extensions connect by a doorlatch (aka, “crappy outhouse latch — or, I hope this latch matches up with the hole, latch” according to Climbing Partner) for a little extra support and to avoid having a fourth leg (one of the extensions has two legs, the other only one).

I don’t have photos of the rest of the “process” since that took place at Climbing Partner’s Dad’s house… so here are some pictures so that you can visualize the setup, and then I’ll let Climbing Partner just tell you the story in his own words.

Here’s the rear storage:

Here are two shots of the “center storage,” the first with the sleeping extensions off (“drive mode”), and the second with the extensions on (“sleep mode”).

Here’s the shot from the back of the setup in “sleep mode.”

And, this one shows the setup in “passenger sleep” or “contact insertion” mode.

I’ll put more pictures of “happy accidents” at the end, but first, here’s the whole story on construction, told by Climbing Partner.

“The first thing we did is find some cardboard, and mocked it all up with cardboard. We cut out a model with a boxcutter, since the CR-V has a lot of curves and isn’t just a box, and eyeballed it all out so that it fit together perfectly. We cut out cardboard pieces with notches, notched it all together, and used steel duct tape to get all the hinge positions right and operating. The model was fully functioning before we made the first cut in plywood.

The actual supplies we needed were two 4×8 sheets of 1/2 inch plywood, assorted screws, fasteners, and Dad’s garage and tools to do the construction. I saw platforms made with heavier plywood, but thought this design would be solid enough that it would be fully supported and strong enough with 1/2 inch plywood to save weight. Anything Toyota Forerunner or smaller, you’ll want to use 1/2 inch.

Anyway, we mocked it up in cardboard, took it all apart, and then cut the pieces out of the plywood with a jig saw, and smoothed the corners with a sander. We put it back together like the model, customizing where it didn’t fit, sanding and jig sawing until it was a perfect fit on all sides. The CR-V isn’t a square setup, so you have to work with what’s there. It doesn’t hurt that my Dad has a degree in Mechanical Engineering. It also doesn’t hurt that I was a liberal arts major when it comes to not working with measurements.

The brackets that hold the extensions on are off the shelf steel plates, that we drilled holes into for mounting, then we used washers as a spacer for the tongue in groove system. The screws go through the washers, and through the metal plate, then the L bracket goes into the space created by the washers.

Half the fun is coming up with your own design, this design just worked perfect. Any kind of tongue in groove setup would work for attaching the extensions. I had an idea from another guy’s setup that used footman loops to receive the L-brackets, but the approach we used was stronger.

What holds the extensions up is just plumber’s stuff. Pipe that screws in, as legs.

The inspiration was from the Toyota FJ forums, really. I took all the best sleeper platform ideas from Teton Gravity Research and those Toyota FJ Forums, and made my own. So, this is state of the art, as we speak. And, it holds more than a roofbox, as an unbeknownst happy accident.

It only took about twelve hours to build it. Total cost was about $100. Actually — it net saved me about $500, because of the $600 I would have spent on a roofbox and rack, minus the $100 spent on the setup. It might save me more, since I’ll never have to worry about getting a DUI.

The vision was perfect — it was built without any hangups, which is the first time I’ve experienced that in a project. We just pushed through, and finished it in that weekend.

My next addition is a camelback water dispenser/CB-hanger (as pioneered by Peter Haun). Looks like we’ve got ourselves a convoy.”

Um, that’s enough. I want my blog back.

Anyway, Climbing Partner and Dad did an awesome job. Aside from the fine engineering, there are a number of unbelievably happy accidents in the setup.

First, two bouldering pads fit PERFECT as an insulation/base when in “sleeping” mode. As much as I think he’d like to claim it’s by design, that was a fantastic surprise when we started “test packing” for our trip.

Second, the storage is RIDICULOUS. It was as if every piece of gear necessary for a two person climbing trip was planned for. His man bag goes behind the driver seat. My girl bag goes behind the passenger seat. Inside the rear driver side door, his “kitchen box” (laundry container in picture) fits perfectly, and inside the rear passenger side door, two ropes fit perfectly.

In the middle storage area, in “sleep” mode, two climbing packs fit like a glove.

In “road” mode, the sleeping stuff all stuffs under there like so.

We got the “sleep” to “road” mode conversion (and vice versa) down to a science after just a few conversions. It was a wee bit easier, and made better use of two sets of hands (by far) than trying to “team” pitch a tent.

“It really shines places where you don’t really want to sleep in a tent — truck stop, Index, Exit 38…”

And, the original idea was triggered by Climbing Partner’s “extracurricular activities,” which in the past lead to some… eh… sketchy car rides you might say. Parked, stealth-like, outside a local watering hole, sleeping it off reduces the risk of any run-ins with, for example, the law.

Anyway – we spent more than a week living quite happily as hermit crabs… wherever we went, we had absolutely everything we needed (except, maybe, Hanabanana) and an efficient system for the “conversions” between modes. It was easy for the passenger to sleep on the road, clipped in to the seatbelt by a weight-rated biner to the seatbelt. Getting necessary supplies in and out when needed was really easy (no boulder problems necessary to reach the back of a packed roof box). We slept comfortably in it (more comfortably with the bouldering pads as insulation than without them for more headroom) as long as we had a level camping spot. Headlamps hung perfectly from the “oh sh*t” handles, and eyeglasses stowed handily within reach on the dashboard/mantel or tucked into the visors.

“And, at no point in the trip did we have a “where the f*ck did you put the… [fill in the blank]” moment…”

because everything was just there, where it belonged, in each of the available storage spaces.

The Extrememobile definitely made re-entry into normal life harder for both of us. Once you have a week plus of time on the road, climbing and camping, playing and living and eating outside, and sleeping comfortably with everything you really need to be happy (“in a paid-for car,” Climbing Partner adds… “going back to reading off a lightbulb sucks.”)

It definitely gave me the “on the road” bug in a way I haven’t had it before… the whole trip home I thought through logistics of an extended period of living on the road. I thought through a lot of logistics, but kept coming back to that little detail of not being able to actually *tell* anybody, lest they report me to Adult Protective Services. So, we’ll see. No plans to depart for the great blue yonder yet, but stay tuned.

Enjoy, and please share your own stories of car-dwelling in the comments. I have a much less sophisticated setup for my little beloved Volkswagen Jetta Wagon… with the rear seats folded flat, a bouldering pad opens up just perfect with two rope bags just inside the rear hatch. It’s not room for two, but one (or, one plus a snuggly labrador retriever) fits comfortably. Especially with my now outrageously-expensive seeming roofbox. Sigh.

Filed under: Joshua Tree, Partners, Red Rocks, The climbing life, Vandwelling

Honda CR-V sleeper and storage platform conversion, aka, how two people can live for a week in a CR-V and not kill each other

So, I spend days on my trip report, and what do you guys really want? Pictures of the freaking Honda CR-V. Oh well. I try. Here, the long-awaited Extrememobile post. Or, if you prefer… how to make a CR-V into a C-RV.

The backstory… Climbing Partner bought a Vanagon camper earlier this year, but she — literally — tried to kill him (brakes went out) so “Bitchface” ultimately found a new home. With Climbing Partner’s eight grade history teacher, Mr. Short, through a random Craigslist interaction. The transaction was complete with a little free career counseling and life lessons from Mr. Short. And, Bitchface actually somehow seemed to made an attempt on Mr. Short’s life even before he picked her up, delaying his acquisition of said Vanagon while he was “in the hospital.” Wisdom from Climbing Partner…

“Lesson learned: never make a camper a car. Instead, make a car a camper.”

After looking at various roadtripmobile options, he decided to built out his Honda CR-V with a sleeping and storage platform. Since I get to benefit from the additional comfort without any of the expense or work (spare a few loosened nuts during the seat-ectomy stage) the least I could do is document his fine handiwork here (especially since y’all want to see it so badly. Jesus. I thought I was the only one who devoted this much brainpower to how to sleep comfortably in a car.).

Here’s the before:

Step one was a full 2nd row seatectomy. Talk about fun. We pulled the entire rear seat out one day in a matter of a few minutes in his apartment parking lot. Here’s during:

and here’s after completion of the seatectomy:

Climbing Partner’s design basically involves a box in the middle for support, custom fit to the CR-V’s interior. On top of that are pieces of plywood “platform” attached with hinges, so that the storage is easily accessible. That’s what fits behind the front seats, in “driving” mode. In “sleeping” mode, the two front seats push forward, and there’s a driver side extension and passenger side extension. The extensions have plumbing pipe legs that screw in, and are attached to the “box” through a tongue-and-groove system (L-brackets into a receiving bracket fashioned by Climbing Partner and his dad). The two extensions connect by a doorlatch (aka, “crappy outhouse latch — or, I hope this latch matches up with the hole, latch” according to Climbing Partner) for a little extra support and to avoid having a fourth leg (one of the extensions has two legs, the other only one).

I don’t have photos of the rest of the “process” since that took place at Climbing Partner’s Dad’s house… so here are some pictures so that you can visualize the setup, and then I’ll let Climbing Partner just tell you the story in his own words.

Here’s the rear storage:

Here are two shots of the “center storage,” the first with the sleeping extensions off (“drive mode”), and the second with the extensions on (“sleep mode”).

Here’s the shot from the back of the setup in “sleep mode.”

And, this one shows the setup in “passenger sleep” or “contact insertion” mode.

I’ll put more pictures of “happy accidents” at the end, but first, here’s the whole story on construction, told by Climbing Partner.

“The first thing we did is find some cardboard, and mocked it all up with cardboard. We cut out a model with a boxcutter, since the CR-V has a lot of curves and isn’t just a box, and eyeballed it all out so that it fit together perfectly. We cut out cardboard pieces with notches, notched it all together, and used steel duct tape to get all the hinge positions right and operating. The model was fully functioning before we made the first cut in plywood.

The actual supplies we needed were two 4×8 sheets of 1/2 inch plywood, assorted screws, fasteners, and Dad’s garage and tools to do the construction. I saw platforms made with heavier plywood, but thought this design would be solid enough that it would be fully supported and strong enough with 1/2 inch plywood to save weight. Anything Toyota Forerunner or smaller, you’ll want to use 1/2 inch.

Anyway, we mocked it up in cardboard, took it all apart, and then cut the pieces out of the plywood with a jig saw, and smoothed the corners with a sander. We put it back together like the model, customizing where it didn’t fit, sanding and jig sawing until it was a perfect fit on all sides. The CR-V isn’t a square setup, so you have to work with what’s there. It doesn’t hurt that my Dad has a degree in Mechanical Engineering. It also doesn’t hurt that I was a liberal arts major when it comes to not working with measurements.

The brackets that hold the extensions on are off the shelf steel plates, that we drilled holes into for mounting, then we used washers as a spacer for the tongue in groove system. The screws go through the washers, and through the metal plate, then the L bracket goes into the space created by the washers.

Half the fun is coming up with your own design, this design just worked perfect. Any kind of tongue in groove setup would work for attaching the extensions. I had an idea from another guy’s setup that used footman loops to receive the L-brackets, but the approach we used was stronger.

What holds the extensions up is just plumber’s stuff. Pipe that screws in, as legs.

The inspiration was from the Toyota FJ forums, really. I took all the best sleeper platform ideas from Teton Gravity Research and those Toyota FJ Forums, and made my own. So, this is state of the art, as we speak. And, it holds more than a roofbox, as an unbeknownst happy accident.

It only took about twelve hours to build it. Total cost was about $100. Actually — it net saved me about $500, because of the $600 I would have spent on a roofbox and rack, minus the $100 spent on the setup. It might save me more, since I’ll never have to worry about getting a DUI.

The vision was perfect — it was built without any hangups, which is the first time I’ve experienced that in a project. We just pushed through, and finished it in that weekend.

My next addition is a camelback water dispenser/CB-hanger (as pioneered by Peter Haun). Looks like we’ve got ourselves a convoy.”

Um, that’s enough. I want my blog back.

Anyway, Climbing Partner and Dad did an awesome job. Aside from the fine engineering, there are a number of unbelievably happy accidents in the setup.

First, two bouldering pads fit PERFECT as an insulation/base when in “sleeping” mode. As much as I think he’d like to claim it’s by design, that was a fantastic surprise when we started “test packing” for our trip.

Second, the storage is RIDICULOUS. It was as if every piece of gear necessary for a two person climbing trip was planned for. His man bag goes behind the driver seat. My girl bag goes behind the passenger seat. Inside the rear driver side door, his “kitchen box” (laundry container in picture) fits perfectly, and inside the rear passenger side door, two ropes fit perfectly.

In the middle storage area, in “sleep” mode, two climbing packs fit like a glove.

In “road” mode, the sleeping stuff all stuffs under there like so.

We got the “sleep” to “road” mode conversion (and vice versa) down to a science after just a few conversions. It was a wee bit easier, and made better use of two sets of hands (by far) than trying to “team” pitch a tent.

“It really shines places where you don’t really want to sleep in a tent — truck stop, Index, Exit 38…”

And, the original idea was triggered by Climbing Partner’s “extracurricular activities,” which in the past lead to some… eh… sketchy car rides you might say. Parked, stealth-like, outside a local watering hole, sleeping it off reduces the risk of any run-ins with, for example, the law.

Anyway – we spent more than a week living quite happily as hermit crabs… wherever we went, we had absolutely everything we needed (except, maybe, Hanabanana) and an efficient system for the “conversions” between modes. It was easy for the passenger to sleep on the road, clipped in to the seatbelt by a weight-rated biner to the seatbelt. Getting necessary supplies in and out when needed was really easy (no boulder problems necessary to reach the back of a packed roof box). We slept comfortably in it (more comfortably with the bouldering pads as insulation than without them for more headroom) as long as we had a level camping spot. Headlamps hung perfectly from the “oh sh*t” handles, and eyeglasses stowed handily within reach on the dashboard/mantel or tucked into the visors.

“And, at no point in the trip did we have a “where the f*ck did you put the… [fill in the blank]” moment…”

because everything was just there, where it belonged, in each of the available storage spaces.

The Extrememobile definitely made re-entry into normal life harder for both of us. Once you have a week plus of time on the road, climbing and camping, playing and living and eating outside, and sleeping comfortably with everything you really need to be happy (“in a paid-for car,” Climbing Partner adds… “going back to reading off a lightbulb sucks.”)

It definitely gave me the “on the road” bug in a way I haven’t had it before… the whole trip home I thought through logistics of an extended period of living on the road. I thought through a lot of logistics, but kept coming back to that little detail of not being able to actually *tell* anybody, lest they report me to Adult Protective Services. So, we’ll see. No plans to depart for the great blue yonder yet, but stay tuned.

Enjoy, and please share your own stories of car-dwelling in the comments. I have a much less sophisticated setup for my little beloved Volkswagen Jetta Wagon… with the rear seats folded flat, a bouldering pad opens up just perfect with two rope bags just inside the rear hatch. It’s not room for two, but one (or, one plus a snuggly labrador retriever) fits comfortably. Especially with my now outrageously-expensive seeming roofbox. Sigh.

Filed under: Joshua Tree, Partners, Red Rocks, The climbing life, Vandwelling

Red Rocks Plus, aka it sometimes rains in Vegas: a trip report

For those of you waiting with baited breath, I apologize for the delay in getting this trip report posted. And PS, thank you so much for all the “where the heck is your trip report?” emails… talk about making a girl feel like this isn’t all a waste of time…

The adjustment back to real life has been… atypical. Usually, I get back from a trip, look at my pictures, sleep, and then wake up feeling like it was all just a vague dream… it feels a bit like coming home from some surreal summer camp but not quite real. It’s usually easy to fall back into my routine, and to get back to the rhythm of real life.

This trip was different. I don’t know why… maybe it was the smaller numbers (just a party of two), maybe it was some strange effect of our hermit-crab existence (living, literally, with all of our necessary belongings, in Climbing Partner’s CR-V for the trip), or maybe it was that we had to adjust our plan and change course mid-way through… but this trip felt like a little taste of living on the road.

It’s not at all dream-like to be back… instead, I got home, slept, got up, and then started to marvel at the sheer extravagance of my exceptionally meager existence. My queen size bed feels enormous. My teeny tiny apartment feels like a mansion — unnecessarily large. When I got up to make breakfast, I was fascinated by the excess in my kitchen (which is, by the way, about four feet by about two feet — I’ve seen bigger kitchens on recreational boats) with its four burner gas stove, refrigerator, and grind-and-brew coffee maker. I sat down at my desk to start working and catching up, and instead I found myself thinking through the logistics of an extended period of time on the road. But, alas, I’m back to real life, and the on the road dreams will have to wait.

At least I have another great trip to look back on. Get to the point, I know. Here’s the detail.

Friday, January 16th

Departure. My partner in crime for this trip is one of my regular climbing partners. We’ve been climbing, training, and traveling together since last season, but prior to this we’d only done one day of climbing just the two of us — the rest of the many trips we took last year were in a “herd.” We both had to work on Friday, so after work we quickly packed up his car, a CR-V with a sleeping platform and storage in the back (but that’s a separate blog post) and turned toward the open road. East to Yakima, south to Salt Lake, and then on to Red Rock, Nevada.

Saturday, January 17th

We drove through the night, taking turns napping on the passenger side of the sleeping platform. We had breakfast somewhere in Idaho, and then pressed on to Salt Lake City by morning. We took a scenic route through Eastern SLC to stop off at the Black Diamond shop to supply up — Climbing Partner picked up a rack of C3 small cams, along with a yellow and a blue Camalot, to round out our gear. With that, we had two ropes, and basically doubles (missing a few) up to 3 inches. Little did I know how much fun that would make traditional climbing. After our supply stop, another stop to taste the nation’s best tasting water in Beaver, UT and a quick peek at the Zion scenic loop, we pressed on for Red Rock. We arrived in the afternoon and planned a quick stop at Chocolate Rocks, with its reported 15 minute approach. After easily spotting the crag from the car, then about an hour of scrambling around, Climbing Partner thought he might have found the right way up to the crag… just as the sun started to set. We headed out to set up camp and nestled in to our temporary home at the BLM campsites just outside the scenic loop.

Sunday, January 18th

Logistics. We spent Sunday getting oriented in Vegas. Both of us had climbed and trained really hard in the gym just before the trip (and I was feeling on the verge of a shoulder injury) so we both woke up feeling like it wasn’t yet a day to pull sick hard. Thanks to advice from friends, we hit the local climbing shop, Desert Rock Sports, which turned out to be a home base, location to make new friends (shout out to Travis, Mike, Dray and Steve who helped us feel completely at home), pick up necessary supplies, and gather intel. I see a lot of gear shops, and I love a lot of gear shops. Desert Rock Sports may just be my all time favorite gear shop. Aside from their stellar selection of gear (after much scrutiny, the only thing I’d ever want that was missing from their inventory were offwidth size Wild Country cams) the guys, every time we came in, were incredible. Mike was particularly generous with his time and tips on the Canyon, we had a great visit about climbing all over the West, spanning stories from Squamish to Joshua Tree.

We also found a great (new) breakfast spot — the Mega Cafe on Buffalo. It’s so new I can’t find a link, address or anything, but it’s on Buffalo near one of the many Albertsons in Las Vegas. Their breakfast special ROCKS, and the servers were super friendly both times we visited. Their pancakes are unusually good, and our waiter during our second visit shared the secret (which I had guessed)… Krusteaz pancake mix. Climbing Partner needed a haircut, so we checked that off the list (me sweet-talking one of the idle-handed hairstylists out of a free shampoo and comb-out (“You poor THING?!?! You’re camping and can’t take a shower?!?! Oh my gosh, let me take care of you!!!”).

Monday, January 19th

We were, by this point, completely jonesing for some rock climbing, overtrained bodies be damned. We got up, and headed for the Flight Path Area in Pine Creek Canyon, sights set on “Ignore the Man Behind the Screen,” a 5.6 traditional climb. We’d learned at Chocolate Rocks that even when you can see the crag from the road, sometimes the approach can still be a surprise. The trip to Flight Path, though, wasn’t too bad. We hiked in from the Pine Creek Canyon parking area. Climbing Partner racked up for the first lead, and sewed up the 5.6 in great style given that he’s still relatively new to gear leading. His judgment on gear is great, and I actually learned something by watching him — he’s really natural about picking good stances to place from, to reduce how strenuous the whole effort is. I’ve had other partners explain that to me numerous times, but watching him climb, it sunk in for me, finally.

We eyed the 10a to the right, “Belief in Proportion to the Evidence,” described in the guidebook as a sport route with an “optional nut between the third and fourth bolts.” It looked super fun, the runout didn’t look *that* bad from the ground, and we decided to give it a try. Climbing Partner racked up, and started the lead. He did a solid job, until he hit the runout and decided that wasn’t exactly how he wanted to spend his second lead at Red Rock. I eyed the route again, racked up, hit the runout, then realized… holy crap, I’m doing my first 10a mixed route. My hardest clean gear lead to date is 5.8; my hardest gear route attempted is 5.9.

I channeled every bit of my inner bad ass, and thought “I can do this.” I placed at least two pieces of gear — it may have even been three — as best I could, and pulled the crux moves. I reached the bolt above the runout and clipped it happily. The route was super fun, and felt like a big accomplishment, and a fantastic welcome back to Red Rock.

We eyed the other routes on the right side of the Flight Path wall, somehow missing Flight Path itself entirely (bummer). On our hike out, a 5.9 we’d spotted on the way in, “Doin the Good Drive” called to us again, on the left side of Flight Path. We really scouted the route, deciding it’s one we’ll have to come back to. It was a lovely crack, looked like great pro, and pretty reasonable stances for placing gear. But, we just weren’t quite ready to hop on a 5.9, and it was getting to the end of the day.

Tuesday, January 20th

We decided to do a bit of scenic loop bolt clipping and headed for Panty Wall, home to an 11a I’d toproped during my last visit (Totally Clips) that I wanted to take another look at. The approach (detect the theme?) was more strenuous than I remembered, but fun. We eyed the 11a, but decided to start slow, doing “Brief Encounter” (5.8). From there, we headed down to Dog Wall, site of a 10a project of mine from my last trip, “Cat Walk.” The last time I was in Red Rock, I spent the better part of a day on the route… leading it from clip to clip. I could put the route together on toprope, but just didn’t have the endurance to link it up on lead. I racked up, walked to the base of the route, got on, and sent. It wasn’t easy — it’s pumpy, and a good challenge, with at least two 10a feeling cruxes — but I felt so strong, and had fun the whole way up. I am actually really enjoying myself on lead, which is a very nice change. Revisiting some old projects was a great confidence builder for taking on new routes.

I can’t remember if it was that night or the night before that we went bouldering — but either way, I don’t have a bouldering guidebook so the info is only so useful/interesting. We did find my “project” from my last trip… I spent a couple days working a sit-start problem in the Kraft boulders, but just didn’t have the strength to do it during my last trip — ripped up my fingers, poked holes in myself and everything, but couldn’t pull the moves. When I saw the problem this time, I got super excited (my hands are totally sweating now just thinking about it). Pulled out the pads, pulled on my shoes, and got myself psyched to work on it for awhile. I put my hands on the start hold, and pulled up to a jug (skipping two hard intermediates I had to use when working it before). Pushed and pulled out to a far ledge (skipping three intermediates I had to use when working it before), moved my feet up and reached for the pinch. I pushed up and grabbed the top… and was happy at how much I’ve improved, but a little bummed that it was so EASY! But, it was super cool to find it and do it again, and I felt good about the send. Climbing Partner also chose a hard-looking, steep, small-hold “project” that he dispatched first try. It was fun, but getting late, and our stomachs were growling, so we called it a day hoping to get back to the boulders later in the trip.

Wednesday, January 21st

Wednesday took us to the Magic Bus area via an exceptionally roundabout, scenic approach. Our approach didn’t at all match up to the description in the guidebook… usually when that happens, the “real” approach becomes clear once you get to the crag… even once we found Magic Bus, we still didn’t see the “real” or “easy” way. We would up approaching the crag from behind, which was nice because we got a great view of the rest of the pullout (Great Red Book, Black Corridor, etc.). Climbing Partner wanted to toprope rehearse Blond Dwarf, a 5.9 mixed route on Magic Bus, so I set out on lead on Electric Koolaid (5.9+), a sport route that shares anchors with Blond Dwarf. I started up the route, and just Didn’t Feel It. I had some unusual doubt in my mind, and when I got to the crux I just didn’t have the confidence to pull it. I felt jittery, and not warmed up. I asked Climbing Partner if he’d be willing to get my gear back, and he stepped up (he loves chances to “be the boy,” as he calls it). He did a great job on the lead, set up the toprope, and then lowered off. I can’t remember if I did it once on toprope then lead it, or if I just got back on, on lead — but after a snack and a break, I got back on the sharp end, got a good song stuck in my head to sing my way up the route (Extraordinary Machine, by Fiona Apple) and polished off the lead. It was fun, felt like an accomplishment to get back on something that had initially scared me, and just by shifting my mindset to “I can do this, rock climbing is fun, I’m an extraordinary machine…” I enjoyed myself.

Climbing Partner took a toprope spin up Blonde Dwarf to check out the gear placements, then racked up and lead. He did an awesome job on the lower crack, placing gear like a pro. Then, he got to the face climbing and worked through it like a charm. I cleaned, and the route was super fun, despite the stress of rapping off bolts that looked sound but featured loose hangers (it looks like the hangers have eroded the sandstone, probably from the back-and-forth they’re subjected to by folks climbing both of those routes, since one traverses right to the anchor and the other traverses left. The bolts and hangers appeared sound, but it was still a slightly heady rap.

We were stoked to go explore the Kraft boulders, but mother nature had another plan. We got out to the boulderfield, Climbing Partner picked a project, and when he touched hand to rock it started to rain. We spent a good hour or so playing on overhanging problems out of the rain, then headed for town for spaghetti and pizza to watch the rain come down. It was a pretty quiet dinner while we both mourned the rain, and the knowledge that it meant probably no more climbing for us at Red Rock, given the rule of thumb of no climbing on the Aztec sandstone for 24-48 hours after any amount of rain.

While we were both eating, relatively quietly, I thought — maybe we can just go hiking on Thursday and see if we want to wait out the weather. It was a revolutionary thought to come to my mind — usually I can’t stand hiking and approaches… it’s a necessary evil to get me to the base of the climb. I just follow my climbing partners, trying to keep up, while they lead the way. It’s a bit, I guess, like being a pack horse who’s not the leader — just follow the tail in front of you. This trip, I had developed a certain appreciation for the adventure and satisfaction of the approaches, and the hiking, since Climbing Partner and I had been trying to figure it out on our own. We’re both relatively new leaders, and we had to really work together, and be patient, to get to where we needed to be.

As I remarked to myself about that shift, Climbing Partner suggested that we scout out the approaches to some of the climbs we might want to do the next time we come to Red Rock. We pulled out the guidebook and identified Birdland as a likely future destination, then as we wrapped up the night, I was relieved that we had a fun plan for the next day, and wouldn’t just be sitting around mourning the weather. Climbing Partner surprised me again with how unflappable he is to travel and climb with, and with his pleasant orientation toward problem solving.

Thursday, January 22nd

We took a quick trip in to Desert Rock Sports to see if the local assessment was that there had been enough rain to merit not climbing, and they confirmed that any amount of rain means staying off the sandstone. He recommended either hitting a local limestone area, or, doing what the locals do and heading to Joshua Tree. I secretly hoped that I might get back to Joshua Tree, and Climbing Partner was up for it, so we bought a guidebook and I started to get really excited.

But first, we had an approach project to undertake. We had a successful direct practice approach to Birdland, a classic 5.8 at Pine Creek Canyon. We scouted the route closely, and I’m stoked to get back to it when I can lead it. We then headed for the North face of Mescalito to eye Dark Shadows, another classic 5.8, thinking that the two would make a great day. We took the less direct approach to Mescalito… I impaled myself on a tree (actually drawing blood on my scalp) climbing through critter trails on the wrong side of the stream from the actual approach, and almost pushed a small boulder down on Climbing Partner. Ultimately, we did find the base (which was a lovely little flat spot with a stream flowing right under the base of the route), and decided Dark Shadows would also be a great route to do during our next trip. We found the ridiculously easy direct approach out, and had a delightful wander down the trail back to the car. Cooked a roadside lunch, then headed for the Mojave Desert to arrive in Joshua Tree by evening.

Friday, January 23rd

My first trip to Joshua Tree at the end of 2007 I couldn’t believe how hard it was… I didn’t lead a thing, I fell on 5.6s, and the climbing felt like I’d never be good enough to actually lead anything there. After our time in Red Rock, though, Climbing Partner and I had established a good climbing partnership and solid teamwork, and I figured we’d have fun even if all we did was aid our way up a 5.6 or two… it would be better than watching the rain in Red Rock.

We headed first for the Lost Horse Area, and Climbing Partner racked up for a 5.7 (with a horse name, I can’t remember for sure which one) with a HARD crux featuring a flaring crack… even following, I had to work really hard and pull a big move to finish the crux. It was a solid lead, and he did a great job on it, and, on building his gear anchor. I was up next, and decided that 5.7 felt too hard for me to lead, so we headed for a 5.6 at the Atlantis area, “Solar Technology.” There was a party on it — a young guy leading, and a herd of very nice Orange County girls following. While we looked on at his lead, a line to the right caught my eye. We looked at it, and one of the girls said she thought it was a 10c. I pulled out the detailed Joshua Tree book, which identified it as a 5.7, “The Labyrinth.” I hmmm’d and haaaaa’d about not really wanting to lead a 5.7 yet, then decided it was time to fish or cut bait.

I bouldered the start in my approach shoes (it wasn’t as hard as it looked) and placed a first piece to clip into. I came back down, and then slowly racked up thinking the whole time… oh my god, what am I doing… but the route looked good, I could see great gear placements and stances, and could identify the crux from the ground so I didn’t think there would be many surprises. It became time to… well… fish, and I tied in. I started up the route, placing gear, and climbing. It started out fun, relatively low angle, and with great gear. I hit an acceptable stance, right below the crux, and placed a cam. I moved up, pulled half the crux, realized I had underestimated the difficulty of the move, saw a place right in front of my eyes where I sincerely wanted a piece of gear and … oh my god, needed more gear in. I downclimbed to the acceptable, but still strenuous stance, and took a few deep breaths. I plugged in another cam just above the first, and then reached as high as I could to place a good nut to protect the crux moves.

It took, even with three good pieces of gear in, awhile for me to pull together the confidence to pull through it. I took a few more deep breaths, got a good shakeout, and then moved upward, smoothly through the moves, to get onto the more solid ground above. I could hear the OC girls cheering me on, and breathing sighs of relief as I did the same.

After that, Don got on the 5.6, which traversed to the right (I hate traverses) and wasn’t a gimme. He did a great job, especially improvising an anchor when he realized that he’d left his cordalette on the ground. It was a fun pitch to clean, and again, I was really impressed with his gear, and his ingenuity at anchorbuilding.

We stayed that night in a great campsite at Hidden Valley, and I’m now officially back in love with Joshua Tree, and can’t wait to get back.

Saturday, January 24th

Saturday morning we hoped to climb in Real Hidden Valley, but were just wiped. Instead, we half-heartedly scouted routes and then when Climbing Partner said something about a seafood dinner in San Francisco, we decided to hit the road. We got into San Francisco late that night, and had a great evening in the city. Woke up the next day and turned toward home.

Overall, it was a truly fantastic trip. I enjoyed the rhythm that Climbing Partner and I developed, and how much fun we had hiking, climbing and traveling together despite a few hiccups. It was also a treat to realize that I’m starting to become a leader. After years of following my (much appreciated) more experienced climbing partners around the Western United States, it was a challenge, an adjustment, and a bit scary at first to realize that I had, kind of, jumped out of the nest. I was responsible for picking my routes, finding the crags, and climbing the routes (working with Climbing Partner, of course). It took a bit of a mind shift to reset my expectations (two or three pitches may be a successful day when you’re learning, instead of the 10+ I’m used to when I’m following the guys), but I wouldn’t trade that experience for anything.

More posts will come — I’m working on a post to show you how incredibly cool Climbing Partner’s CR-V build out is, and, how well it worked for us on the trip, and I’m also working on a post about revisiting projects and places. But, this should whet your appetite for now.

Enjoy, thanks for reading, and I can’t wait to hear your thoughts… please comment below!

Filed under: Joshua Tree, Red Rocks, Trip Reports

Red Rocks Plus, aka it sometimes rains in Vegas: a trip report

For those of you waiting with baited breath, I apologize for the delay in getting this trip report posted. And PS, thank you so much for all the “where the heck is your trip report?” emails… talk about making a girl feel like this isn’t all a waste of time…

The adjustment back to real life has been… atypical. Usually, I get back from a trip, look at my pictures, sleep, and then wake up feeling like it was all just a vague dream… it feels a bit like coming home from some surreal summer camp but not quite real. It’s usually easy to fall back into my routine, and to get back to the rhythm of real life.

This trip was different. I don’t know why… maybe it was the smaller numbers (just a party of two), maybe it was some strange effect of our hermit-crab existence (living, literally, with all of our necessary belongings, in Climbing Partner’s CR-V for the trip), or maybe it was that we had to adjust our plan and change course mid-way through… but this trip felt like a little taste of living on the road.

It’s not at all dream-like to be back… instead, I got home, slept, got up, and then started to marvel at the sheer extravagance of my exceptionally meager existence. My queen size bed feels enormous. My teeny tiny apartment feels like a mansion — unnecessarily large. When I got up to make breakfast, I was fascinated by the excess in my kitchen (which is, by the way, about four feet by about two feet — I’ve seen bigger kitchens on recreational boats) with its four burner gas stove, refrigerator, and grind-and-brew coffee maker. I sat down at my desk to start working and catching up, and instead I found myself thinking through the logistics of an extended period of time on the road. But, alas, I’m back to real life, and the on the road dreams will have to wait.

At least I have another great trip to look back on. Get to the point, I know. Here’s the detail.

Friday, January 16th

Departure. My partner in crime for this trip is one of my regular climbing partners. We’ve been climbing, training, and traveling together since last season, but prior to this we’d only done one day of climbing just the two of us — the rest of the many trips we took last year were in a “herd.” We both had to work on Friday, so after work we quickly packed up his car, a CR-V with a sleeping platform and storage in the back (but that’s a separate blog post) and turned toward the open road. East to Yakima, south to Salt Lake, and then on to Red Rock, Nevada.

Saturday, January 17th

We drove through the night, taking turns napping on the passenger side of the sleeping platform. We had breakfast somewhere in Idaho, and then pressed on to Salt Lake City by morning. We took a scenic route through Eastern SLC to stop off at the Black Diamond shop to supply up — Climbing Partner picked up a rack of C3 small cams, along with a yellow and a blue Camalot, to round out our gear. With that, we had two ropes, and basically doubles (missing a few) up to 3 inches. Little did I know how much fun that would make traditional climbing. After our supply stop, another stop to taste the nation’s best tasting water in Beaver, UT and a quick peek at the Zion scenic loop, we pressed on for Red Rock. We arrived in the afternoon and planned a quick stop at Chocolate Rocks, with its reported 15 minute approach. After easily spotting the crag from the car, then about an hour of scrambling around, Climbing Partner thought he might have found the right way up to the crag… just as the sun started to set. We headed out to set up camp and nestled in to our temporary home at the BLM campsites just outside the scenic loop.

Sunday, January 18th

Logistics. We spent Sunday getting oriented in Vegas. Both of us had climbed and trained really hard in the gym just before the trip (and I was feeling on the verge of a shoulder injury) so we both woke up feeling like it wasn’t yet a day to pull sick hard. Thanks to advice from friends, we hit the local climbing shop, Desert Rock Sports, which turned out to be a home base, location to make new friends (shout out to Travis, Mike, Dray and Steve who helped us feel completely at home), pick up necessary supplies, and gather intel. I see a lot of gear shops, and I love a lot of gear shops. Desert Rock Sports may just be my all time favorite gear shop. Aside from their stellar selection of gear (after much scrutiny, the only thing I’d ever want that was missing from their inventory were offwidth size Wild Country cams) the guys, every time we came in, were incredible. Mike was particularly generous with his time and tips on the Canyon, we had a great visit about climbing all over the West, spanning stories from Squamish to Joshua Tree.

We also found a great (new) breakfast spot — the Mega Cafe on Buffalo. It’s so new I can’t find a link, address or anything, but it’s on Buffalo near one of the many Albertsons in Las Vegas. Their breakfast special ROCKS, and the servers were super friendly both times we visited. Their pancakes are unusually good, and our waiter during our second visit shared the secret (which I had guessed)… Krusteaz pancake mix. Climbing Partner needed a haircut, so we checked that off the list (me sweet-talking one of the idle-handed hairstylists out of a free shampoo and comb-out (“You poor THING?!?! You’re camping and can’t take a shower?!?! Oh my gosh, let me take care of you!!!”).

Monday, January 19th

We were, by this point, completely jonesing for some rock climbing, overtrained bodies be damned. We got up, and headed for the Flight Path Area in Pine Creek Canyon, sights set on “Ignore the Man Behind the Screen,” a 5.6 traditional climb. We’d learned at Chocolate Rocks that even when you can see the crag from the road, sometimes the approach can still be a surprise. The trip to Flight Path, though, wasn’t too bad. We hiked in from the Pine Creek Canyon parking area. Climbing Partner racked up for the first lead, and sewed up the 5.6 in great style given that he’s still relatively new to gear leading. His judgment on gear is great, and I actually learned something by watching him — he’s really natural about picking good stances to place from, to reduce how strenuous the whole effort is. I’ve had other partners explain that to me numerous times, but watching him climb, it sunk in for me, finally.

We eyed the 10a to the right, “Belief in Proportion to the Evidence,” described in the guidebook as a sport route with an “optional nut between the third and fourth bolts.” It looked super fun, the runout didn’t look *that* bad from the ground, and we decided to give it a try. Climbing Partner racked up, and started the lead. He did a solid job, until he hit the runout and decided that wasn’t exactly how he wanted to spend his second lead at Red Rock. I eyed the route again, racked up, hit the runout, then realized… holy crap, I’m doing my first 10a mixed route. My hardest clean gear lead to date is 5.8; my hardest gear route attempted is 5.9.

I channeled every bit of my inner bad ass, and thought “I can do this.” I placed at least two pieces of gear — it may have even been three — as best I could, and pulled the crux moves. I reached the bolt above the runout and clipped it happily. The route was super fun, and felt like a big accomplishment, and a fantastic welcome back to Red Rock.

We eyed the other routes on the right side of the Flight Path wall, somehow missing Flight Path itself entirely (bummer). On our hike out, a 5.9 we’d spotted on the way in, “Doin the Good Drive” called to us again, on the left side of Flight Path. We really scouted the route, deciding it’s one we’ll have to come back to. It was a lovely crack, looked like great pro, and pretty reasonable stances for placing gear. But, we just weren’t quite ready to hop on a 5.9, and it was getting to the end of the day.

Tuesday, January 20th

We decided to do a bit of scenic loop bolt clipping and headed for Panty Wall, home to an 11a I’d toproped during my last visit (Totally Clips) that I wanted to take another look at. The approach (detect the theme?) was more strenuous than I remembered, but fun. We eyed the 11a, but decided to start slow, doing “Brief Encounter” (5.8). From there, we headed down to Dog Wall, site of a 10a project of mine from my last trip, “Cat Walk.” The last time I was in Red Rock, I spent the better part of a day on the route… leading it from clip to clip. I could put the route together on toprope, but just didn’t have the endurance to link it up on lead. I racked up, walked to the base of the route, got on, and sent. It wasn’t easy — it’s pumpy, and a good challenge, with at least two 10a feeling cruxes — but I felt so strong, and had fun the whole way up. I am actually really enjoying myself on lead, which is a very nice change. Revisiting some old projects was a great confidence builder for taking on new routes.

I can’t remember if it was that night or the night before that we went bouldering — but either way, I don’t have a bouldering guidebook so the info is only so useful/interesting. We did find my “project” from my last trip… I spent a couple days working a sit-start problem in the Kraft boulders, but just didn’t have the strength to do it during my last trip — ripped up my fingers, poked holes in myself and everything, but couldn’t pull the moves. When I saw the problem this time, I got super excited (my hands are totally sweating now just thinking about it). Pulled out the pads, pulled on my shoes, and got myself psyched to work on it for awhile. I put my hands on the start hold, and pulled up to a jug (skipping two hard intermediates I had to use when working it before). Pushed and pulled out to a far ledge (skipping three intermediates I had to use when working it before), moved my feet up and reached for the pinch. I pushed up and grabbed the top… and was happy at how much I’ve improved, but a little bummed that it was so EASY! But, it was super cool to find it and do it again, and I felt good about the send. Climbing Partner also chose a hard-looking, steep, small-hold “project” that he dispatched first try. It was fun, but getting late, and our stomachs were growling, so we called it a day hoping to get back to the boulders later in the trip.

Wednesday, January 21st

Wednesday took us to the Magic Bus area via an exceptionally roundabout, scenic approach. Our approach didn’t at all match up to the description in the guidebook… usually when that happens, the “real” approach becomes clear once you get to the crag… even once we found Magic Bus, we still didn’t see the “real” or “easy” way. We would up approaching the crag from behind, which was nice because we got a great view of the rest of the pullout (Great Red Book, Black Corridor, etc.). Climbing Partner wanted to toprope rehearse Blond Dwarf, a 5.9 mixed route on Magic Bus, so I set out on lead on Electric Koolaid (5.9+), a sport route that shares anchors with Blond Dwarf. I started up the route, and just Didn’t Feel It. I had some unusual doubt in my mind, and when I got to the crux I just didn’t have the confidence to pull it. I felt jittery, and not warmed up. I asked Climbing Partner if he’d be willing to get my gear back, and he stepped up (he loves chances to “be the boy,” as he calls it). He did a great job on the lead, set up the toprope, and then lowered off. I can’t remember if I did it once on toprope then lead it, or if I just got back on, on lead — but after a snack and a break, I got back on the sharp end, got a good song stuck in my head to sing my way up the route (Extraordinary Machine, by Fiona Apple) and polished off the lead. It was fun, felt like an accomplishment to get back on something that had initially scared me, and just by shifting my mindset to “I can do this, rock climbing is fun, I’m an extraordinary machine…” I enjoyed myself.

Climbing Partner took a toprope spin up Blonde Dwarf to check out the gear placements, then racked up and lead. He did an awesome job on the lower crack, placing gear like a pro. Then, he got to the face climbing and worked through it like a charm. I cleaned, and the route was super fun, despite the stress of rapping off bolts that looked sound but featured loose hangers (it looks like the hangers have eroded the sandstone, probably from the back-and-forth they’re subjected to by folks climbing both of those routes, since one traverses right to the anchor and the other traverses left. The bolts and hangers appeared sound, but it was still a slightly heady rap.

We were stoked to go explore the Kraft boulders, but mother nature had another plan. We got out to the boulderfield, Climbing Partner picked a project, and when he touched hand to rock it started to rain. We spent a good hour or so playing on overhanging problems out of the rain, then headed for town for spaghetti and pizza to watch the rain come down. It was a pretty quiet dinner while we both mourned the rain, and the knowledge that it meant probably no more climbing for us at Red Rock, given the rule of thumb of no climbing on the Aztec sandstone for 24-48 hours after any amount of rain.

While we were both eating, relatively quietly, I thought — maybe we can just go hiking on Thursday and see if we want to wait out the weather. It was a revolutionary thought to come to my mind — usually I can’t stand hiking and approaches… it’s a necessary evil to get me to the base of the climb. I just follow my climbing partners, trying to keep up, while they lead the way. It’s a bit, I guess, like being a pack horse who’s not the leader — just follow the tail in front of you. This trip, I had developed a certain appreciation for the adventure and satisfaction of the approaches, and the hiking, since Climbing Partner and I had been trying to figure it out on our own. We’re both relatively new leaders, and we had to really work together, and be patient, to get to where we needed to be.

As I remarked to myself about that shift, Climbing Partner suggested that we scout out the approaches to some of the climbs we might want to do the next time we come to Red Rock. We pulled out the guidebook and identified Birdland as a likely future destination, then as we wrapped up the night, I was relieved that we had a fun plan for the next day, and wouldn’t just be sitting around mourning the weather. Climbing Partner surprised me again with how unflappable he is to travel and climb with, and with his pleasant orientation toward problem solving.

Thursday, January 22nd

We took a quick trip in to Desert Rock Sports to see if the local assessment was that there had been enough rain to merit not climbing, and they confirmed that any amount of rain means staying off the sandstone. He recommended either hitting a local limestone area, or, doing what the locals do and heading to Joshua Tree. I secretly hoped that I might get back to Joshua Tree, and Climbing Partner was up for it, so we bought a guidebook and I started to get really excited.

But first, we had an approach project to undertake. We had a successful direct practice approach to Birdland, a classic 5.8 at Pine Creek Canyon. We scouted the route closely, and I’m stoked to get back to it when I can lead it. We then headed for the North face of Mescalito to eye Dark Shadows, another classic 5.8, thinking that the two would make a great day. We took the less direct approach to Mescalito… I impaled myself on a tree (actually drawing blood on my scalp) climbing through critter trails on the wrong side of the stream from the actual approach, and almost pushed a small boulder down on Climbing Partner. Ultimately, we did find the base (which was a lovely little flat spot with a stream flowing right under the base of the route), and decided Dark Shadows would also be a great route to do during our next trip. We found the ridiculously easy direct approach out, and had a delightful wander down the trail back to the car. Cooked a roadside lunch, then headed for the Mojave Desert to arrive in Joshua Tree by evening.

Friday, January 23rd

My first trip to Joshua Tree at the end of 2007 I couldn’t believe how hard it was… I didn’t lead a thing, I fell on 5.6s, and the climbing felt like I’d never be good enough to actually lead anything there. After our time in Red Rock, though, Climbing Partner and I had established a good climbing partnership and solid teamwork, and I figured we’d have fun even if all we did was aid our way up a 5.6 or two… it would be better than watching the rain in Red Rock.

We headed first for the Lost Horse Area, and Climbing Partner racked up for a 5.7 (with a horse name, I can’t remember for sure which one) with a HARD crux featuring a flaring crack… even following, I had to work really hard and pull a big move to finish the crux. It was a solid lead, and he did a great job on it, and, on building his gear anchor. I was up next, and decided that 5.7 felt too hard for me to lead, so we headed for a 5.6 at the Atlantis area, “Solar Technology.” There was a party on it — a young guy leading, and a herd of very nice Orange County girls following. While we looked on at his lead, a line to the right caught my eye. We looked at it, and one of the girls said she thought it was a 10c. I pulled out the detailed Joshua Tree book, which identified it as a 5.7, “The Labyrinth.” I hmmm’d and haaaaa’d about not really wanting to lead a 5.7 yet, then decided it was time to fish or cut bait.

I bouldered the start in my approach shoes (it wasn’t as hard as it looked) and placed a first piece to clip into. I came back down, and then slowly racked up thinking the whole time… oh my god, what am I doing… but the route looked good, I could see great gear placements and stances, and could identify the crux from the ground so I didn’t think there would be many surprises. It became time to… well… fish, and I tied in. I started up the route, placing gear, and climbing. It started out fun, relatively low angle, and with great gear. I hit an acceptable stance, right below the crux, and placed a cam. I moved up, pulled half the crux, realized I had underestimated the difficulty of the move, saw a place right in front of my eyes where I sincerely wanted a piece of gear and … oh my god, needed more gear in. I downclimbed to the acceptable, but still strenuous stance, and took a few deep breaths. I plugged in another cam just above the first, and then reached as high as I could to place a good nut to protect the crux moves.

It took, even with three good pieces of gear in, awhile for me to pull together the confidence to pull through it. I took a few more deep breaths, got a good shakeout, and then moved upward, smoothly through the moves, to get onto the more solid ground above. I could hear the OC girls cheering me on, and breathing sighs of relief as I did the same.

After that, Don got on the 5.6, which traversed to the right (I hate traverses) and wasn’t a gimme. He did a great job, especially improvising an anchor when he realized that he’d left his cordalette on the ground. It was a fun pitch to clean, and again, I was really impressed with his gear, and his ingenuity at anchorbuilding.

We stayed that night in a great campsite at Hidden Valley, and I’m now officially back in love with Joshua Tree, and can’t wait to get back.

Saturday, January 24th

Saturday morning we hoped to climb in Real Hidden Valley, but were just wiped. Instead, we half-heartedly scouted routes and then when Climbing Partner said something about a seafood dinner in San Francisco, we decided to hit the road. We got into San Francisco late that night, and had a great evening in the city. Woke up the next day and turned toward home.

Overall, it was a truly fantastic trip. I enjoyed the rhythm that Climbing Partner and I developed, and how much fun we had hiking, climbing and traveling together despite a few hiccups. It was also a treat to realize that I’m starting to become a leader. After years of following my (much appreciated) more experienced climbing partners around the Western United States, it was a challenge, an adjustment, and a bit scary at first to realize that I had, kind of, jumped out of the nest. I was responsible for picking my routes, finding the crags, and climbing the routes (working with Climbing Partner, of course). It took a bit of a mind shift to reset my expectations (two or three pitches may be a successful day when you’re learning, instead of the 10+ I’m used to when I’m following the guys), but I wouldn’t trade that experience for anything.

More posts will come — I’m working on a post to show you how incredibly cool Climbing Partner’s CR-V build out is, and, how well it worked for us on the trip, and I’m also working on a post about revisiting projects and places. But, this should whet your appetite for now.

Enjoy, thanks for reading, and I can’t wait to hear your thoughts… please comment below!

Filed under: Joshua Tree, Red Rocks, Trip Reports

The best trip ever

Even if it took me weeks to finally sit down and write the Joshua Tree trip report. And, even if the trip report is less detailed than usual because we don’t have a decent guidebook, so if you’re a climber, I apologize – I don’t have any of the route names, and have only sketchy beta.

Way, way back in 2006, on a sunny day in December (the 17th, a Sunday), we loaded into Chris’s Element at 7:30 am to meet our friends Jason, Alex, Victoria, and Ken at VW Bremerton, to depart for Joshua Tree. Our ETD was 8 am, because Ken had a lock-in at the gym the night before with the boy scouts and 8 am was when all their parents were supposed to pick up the scouts (although, it turns out, many parents are not so punctual when their kids’ supervisory adult has a climbing trip to leave for), so Ken started out with extra hard core points on the rest of us. And, we left late. But, that is entirely to be expected, and gave us a chance to hit McDs and get much needed egg sandwiches.

We left the gym and picked up Shawn and Rhi at their houses, so, our actual time of departure was 9:48 am. It took us two hours, eighteen minutes to go the first twenty miles.

And then we were eight. In two cars. Six in the van, and Chris and I aren’t cool, so we were in the Element by outselves. However, being uncool has its benefits. I got to listen to whatever I wanted from my iPod (which, it turns out, happens to be loaded with WAY too much mellow music for road tripping) and we could fold the passenger seat back and actually recline and sleep comfortably. The downside to being in our own car is that we were prime targets for mooning (thanks, Alex) but then again, I’m not sure the view in the van would have been any less traumatic.

The drive down is a bit of a blur…Chris did most of the driving, and we went straight through. I know I drove during the night (since I’m a bit of a night owl and not so good a sleeper) for a long stretch, and then Chris took over and next I knew I woke up to the sunrise just outside of Los Angeles, we got a bit lost, and then I woke up again and we were at a grocery store near Joshua Tree. I think our drive down was in the low 20s in terms of hours… 22? 24? I don’t know.

Our first day in Joshua Tree was cold. We got to Hidden Valley Campground late in the morning and scouted a good, relatively low-wind place to camp, and set up camp. And then, after twenty plus hours of driving and precious little sleep, the climbing started.

First stop on day one was at the campground itself. Personally, “conditions” were a problem for me that first day… I tied in to a stunningly beautiful 5.8 crack near our campsite on toprope and I couldn’t even get off the ground thanks to frozen hands and probably total fatigue. The climb was beautiful, though, and fun to watch — everybody who got on it had a blast despite the frigid temperatures. The rest of day one was also a bit of a blur… we did a lot of wandering around in the cold, some folks climbed, but I was just freezing, tired and happy to be somewhere so incredible beautiful, that climbing wasn’t a super high priority. V started earning stripes on hard cracks, and the guys lead like champs all day despite the conditions.

And then, day two, we woke up to snow. High desert, it is! The snow and the sunrise made an already too-pretty-to-be-real place even more beautiful. After breakfast we decided to head for lower, warmer ground and hit Indian Cove. The temperature was maybe twenty degrees higher at least — we went from layers of polarflece to t-shirts and jeans — and the rock was beautiful. We started at Feudal Wall… and come to mention it, I think we spent the whole day there, although some of the guys may have done some other crags. There was a lot of variety… thin cracks, off widths, hand cracks… and a couple of hard bolted routes for the ropeguns in the crowd.

My first climb of the day was toproping a 10a (the picture is Shawn on lead on that route) with a nice thin section — I don’t generally climb 10a outside, but the route was incredible, perfect size for nice secure climbing for me, and it was a super fun route. Victoria and the guys did some hard climbing — there was an intense sport route that, in the picture below looks not nearly as intense as it was thanks to Victoria’s incredibly relaxed hands.

There was a 5.7 to the right of the 10a that was also fun, and then after lunch and lots of playing with gear on the ground and watching other climbers, I tied in as second of four (Jason led, I seconded, then was Rhi and then Chris) on my very first multipitch route — it was either Deidra or Deidra Left for the first pitch — I don’t remember, and don’t have a guidebook. I actually thought it was the 5.4 to the left of the Deidra routes, but everybody tells me I’m wrong, so who knows. It really doesn’t matter, since the climb was just super fun from bottom to top. It was getting late in the day, and I knew I had to climb fast because of how many of us were going up, and climbing fast is not my typical fashion. I climb slowly. Very slowly. So, it was really fun to be on something realatively easy, that I could climb quickly and inelegantly on, because I had to. And, because I was number two of four, I *had* to. I remember bits of the route — there was a wide section that I should have walked up on the ground and then face climbed out of but no! I had to chimney it! I love chimney technique (at least, seconding – wouldn’t probably like leading it) and do it every chance I get. There was a honey-bear hole on the route, that you had to wiggle through, and seriously I was surprised my butt made it (especially ringed with a half rack of gear, since I was cleaning). But each anchor was good, I learned a ton from Jason, and felt like we were in incredibly good hands. We walked off just as the sun was setting, completely high on the day and the experience, and just thankful for everybody’s time and patience with us, and for such a beautiful day of climbing.

And, that was day two.

Day three Jason took Chris and I on a nice warm up just above our campsite first thing in the morning, and then we all headed to Moosedog Tower (Chris says it’s Moondog Tower) at Indian Cove. I was lucky enough to get to climb with Jason again, so we got on a 3-pitch 5.7 that let me quiz him more about his anchors and about multi-pitch climbing, and it was a nice cruise of a climb on some questionable quality rock that appeared to go up some sort of small-mammal-eating bird’s poop hole, since there were sunbleached bones all over the route for most of the first half. The climbing was fun, the scenery beautiful, and Chris seconded Rhi on the same route right behind us on her first trad lead of the trip. Rhi did a great job as leader, and Chris did a great job as follower, so a fun and safe time was had by all. The descent was a free-hanging rappel, and I haven’t done a ton of rappelling, so the first step over the edge was scary, but once I got used to it all had oodles of fun.

Next up was seconding Shawn on a stunning 5.9 3-pitch with a roof; I was cleaning as second and did good on the start but then got seriously pumped trying to clean the yellow alien under the roof. Poor Shawn had to hold a few falls, but I did make it up after serious effort involving stemming, jamming and face moves. Chris was a champ on it as the third. All three pitches were excellent… not too hard, but each had some moves that you had to think about which made it fun and challenging. Shawn was, as he and the guys were the whole trip, incredibly patient with us, and very generous with answers to our relative newbie questions. I had my first little emergency during the descent… same free-hanging rappel as I mentioned before, but I had an equipment quirk. I rap with a Black Diamond ATC-XP, and I usually thread it tooth side down (so, teeth toward my brake hand) when rappelling for extra friction on the rope, to slow my descent. This time, because of the rope we were using (it was thick, and relatively used, so it didn’t feed through the device as smoothly in high friction mode), I threaded it teeth-up, for less friction. I started my rap, and the cable on my device got jammed between the two ropes in my rappel, and the device jammed. I couldn’t unweight it to unjam the device, and started to go through my options. I had a prussik-cord on me and I instantly reached for that, because I knew I could use a friction knot to ascend my rope and unweight the device; but, tying the knot takes time. Alex was up above, and gave me the faster solution — wrap the rappel rope around my thigh four or five times to act as a break, and then try to hand-over-hand to unweight the device. Alex’s advice worked and was much quicker than the friction know would have been — so, note to self — don’t always go for the friction knot just because it seems safe and comfortable to me — there may be something quicker involving less gear to try first. By the way — my prussik was free because we used firemans’ rappels for backups — we weren’t rap-ing without backup. I’m not likely to use the device in that direction again — it could have been just a total fluke, but in retrospect, the angle of the device is prone to jamming because the teeth-up position lets the device crank further toward the brake hand than a typical ATC would.

Crisis averted, and many lessons learned, another beautiful climbing day was over.

Day four took us to Real Hidden Valley, where many of us started out at Locomotion Rock (I think). I think there was a 5.7 I did second to Jason (but Chris says I’m remembering that wrong) and then we hopped on a 5.5 layback that was a lot of fun. There was a hard (for me) 5.6 crack (picture is Alex on lead on that route) that provided ample photography opportunities… the crack was super classic, but the first few moves the hand jams were utterly smooth from so much traffic, so I took a nice good fall (it actually took me by surprise, which doesn’t happen very often). The offwidth to the right of the 5.6 was AWESOME and almost wore out my jeans.

While we were on the easier stuff, Alex and Rhi and V (I think) got on a 10b sport route that Jason lead later in the day with Chris as second (which provided, I think, the best photo opportunities of the whole trip). Everybody was totally bad ass on that route… it was incredible to watch.

Day five took us back to Real Hidden Valley… I don’t remember the name of the crag, but I think it was something with Buttress in it. Shawn, I think, lead an incredible 5.9 sport route… hard, frictiony, with the bomber holds being things like teeny edges and friction slopers… my notes say I was crabby and not into it, but thinking back, in retrospect, it’s one of the climbs I think of most fondly… it was hard, and different from what I usually climb, and I remember it being just incredible and feeling like a big achievement.

I tied in to belay Alex on a huge 5.9 crack next, in prep for someone else to second him and clean… and then, nobody wanted to second him and clean, and I was tied in, so I got the job. Alex was incredibly patient… he had to hold my falls in one section, and had to provide abundant encouragement in others… I honestly didn’t think I was going to be able to do the climb, but I couldn’t exactly back off and leave hundreds of dollars of Alex’s gear in the crack and make somebody else do it. Well, I could have, but after the week, and everything the guys put up with from us, I didn’t want to. So, after falls, and inelegant climbing, and almost hyperventilating, and then (I kid you not) a short hailstorm, I finished the route and did the hop-across-high-up while Alex belayed my walk over, and then he lowered me off the route. It was “only” a 5.9, but still — it was fun despite being hard and beyond my normal comfort level… Alex was great, and the climb was a cap off to a perfect week.

So, sorry all who were on the trip if this is super me centered… but, I’ll try to do better on reporting other people’s achievements in the future. As for your feelings, you can do your own blog. There are enough feelings on mine, just with me. So, I’ll wrap it up with my list of things I learned at J-tree…

1. Lots about rappelling as listed above, and lots about safe multipitch and trad gear placement technique, thanks to Jason, Shawn and Alex.

2. Don’t look, when the other van passes your car, and Alex is in the other van.

3. Wear your climbing clothes and pack your extra warm layers and going-home clothes. Everything else is completely unnecessary, since it’s too cold to change anyway, so what you’ve got on when you get there is what you’ll have on when you leave.

4. Learn your partners’ racking and packing preferences. That way, when you’re on the ground, and she or he is taking down the anchor and descending, you can be packing up his or her pack to get you on to the next crag as quickly as possible.

5. Cold, day-old pasta with olive oil, salt and pepper is the best climbing lunch ever.

6. Percolators and Coleman stoves really do make the best camp coffee.

7. Comedy CDs are the best way to go for road trips because you listen, laugh, get some extra oxygen, and stay awake better.

8. Dennys is way better at 3 am than 6 pm.

9. Sometimes you just have to finish the route, even if you climb badly, you lose skin, you hyperventilate, and it hails. Somebody’s got to get the gear out.

10. Sometimes, when you climb, you actually do fall.

11. Out of all the colors, green nalgene bottles seem to be the ones mose likely to go AWOL.

So, I think that’s it. Thanks to the J-Tree 06 posse… let’s do it again next year.

Two final comments about Joshua Tree. First, yes, it truly is as beautiful (more beautiful) than in these pictures. Second, yes, the climbing is as hard as you’ve heard. And, as good.

Filed under: Joshua Tree

The best trip ever

Even if it took me weeks to finally sit down and write the Joshua Tree trip report. And, even if the trip report is less detailed than usual because we don’t have a decent guidebook, so if you’re a climber, I apologize – I don’t have any of the route names, and have only sketchy beta.

Way, way back in 2006, on a sunny day in December (the 17th, a Sunday), we loaded into Chris’s Element at 7:30 am to meet our friends Jason, Alex, Victoria, and Ken at VW Bremerton, to depart for Joshua Tree. Our ETD was 8 am, because Ken had a lock-in at the gym the night before with the boy scouts and 8 am was when all their parents were supposed to pick up the scouts (although, it turns out, many parents are not so punctual when their kids’ supervisory adult has a climbing trip to leave for), so Ken started out with extra hard core points on the rest of us. And, we left late. But, that is entirely to be expected, and gave us a chance to hit McDs and get much needed egg sandwiches.

We left the gym and picked up Shawn and Rhi at their houses, so, our actual time of departure was 9:48 am. It took us two hours, eighteen minutes to go the first twenty miles.

And then we were eight. In two cars. Six in the van, and Chris and I aren’t cool, so we were in the Element by outselves. However, being uncool has its benefits. I got to listen to whatever I wanted from my iPod (which, it turns out, happens to be loaded with WAY too much mellow music for road tripping) and we could fold the passenger seat back and actually recline and sleep comfortably. The downside to being in our own car is that we were prime targets for mooning (thanks, Alex) but then again, I’m not sure the view in the van would have been any less traumatic.

The drive down is a bit of a blur…Chris did most of the driving, and we went straight through. I know I drove during the night (since I’m a bit of a night owl and not so good a sleeper) for a long stretch, and then Chris took over and next I knew I woke up to the sunrise just outside of Los Angeles, we got a bit lost, and then I woke up again and we were at a grocery store near Joshua Tree. I think our drive down was in the low 20s in terms of hours… 22? 24? I don’t know.

Our first day in Joshua Tree was cold. We got to Hidden Valley Campground late in the morning and scouted a good, relatively low-wind place to camp, and set up camp. And then, after twenty plus hours of driving and precious little sleep, the climbing started.

First stop on day one was at the campground itself. Personally, “conditions” were a problem for me that first day… I tied in to a stunningly beautiful 5.8 crack near our campsite on toprope and I couldn’t even get off the ground thanks to frozen hands and probably total fatigue. The climb was beautiful, though, and fun to watch — everybody who got on it had a blast despite the frigid temperatures. The rest of day one was also a bit of a blur… we did a lot of wandering around in the cold, some folks climbed, but I was just freezing, tired and happy to be somewhere so incredible beautiful, that climbing wasn’t a super high priority. V started earning stripes on hard cracks, and the guys lead like champs all day despite the conditions.

And then, day two, we woke up to snow. High desert, it is! The snow and the sunrise made an already too-pretty-to-be-real place even more beautiful. After breakfast we decided to head for lower, warmer ground and hit Indian Cove. The temperature was maybe twenty degrees higher at least — we went from layers of polarflece to t-shirts and jeans — and the rock was beautiful. We started at Feudal Wall… and come to mention it, I think we spent the whole day there, although some of the guys may have done some other crags. There was a lot of variety… thin cracks, off widths, hand cracks… and a couple of hard bolted routes for the ropeguns in the crowd.

My first climb of the day was toproping a 10a (the picture is Shawn on lead on that route) with a nice thin section — I don’t generally climb 10a outside, but the route was incredible, perfect size for nice secure climbing for me, and it was a super fun route. Victoria and the guys did some hard climbing — there was an intense sport route that, in the picture below looks not nearly as intense as it was thanks to Victoria’s incredibly relaxed hands.

There was a 5.7 to the right of the 10a that was also fun, and then after lunch and lots of playing with gear on the ground and watching other climbers, I tied in as second of four (Jason led, I seconded, then was Rhi and then Chris) on my very first multipitch route — it was either Deidra or Deidra Left for the first pitch — I don’t remember, and don’t have a guidebook. I actually thought it was the 5.4 to the left of the Deidra routes, but everybody tells me I’m wrong, so who knows. It really doesn’t matter, since the climb was just super fun from bottom to top. It was getting late in the day, and I knew I had to climb fast because of how many of us were going up, and climbing fast is not my typical fashion. I climb slowly. Very slowly. So, it was really fun to be on something realatively easy, that I could climb quickly and inelegantly on, because I had to. And, because I was number two of four, I *had* to. I remember bits of the route — there was a wide section that I should have walked up on the ground and then face climbed out of but no! I had to chimney it! I love chimney technique (at least, seconding – wouldn’t probably like leading it) and do it every chance I get. There was a honey-bear hole on the route, that you had to wiggle through, and seriously I was surprised my butt made it (especially ringed with a half rack of gear, since I was cleaning). But each anchor was good, I learned a ton from Jason, and felt like we were in incredibly good hands. We walked off just as the sun was setting, completely high on the day and the experience, and just thankful for everybody’s time and patience with us, and for such a beautiful day of climbing.

And, that was day two.

Day three Jason took Chris and I on a nice warm up just above our campsite first thing in the morning, and then we all headed to Moosedog Tower (Chris says it’s Moondog Tower) at Indian Cove. I was lucky enough to get to climb with Jason again, so we got on a 3-pitch 5.7 that let me quiz him more about his anchors and about multi-pitch climbing, and it was a nice cruise of a climb on some questionable quality rock that appeared to go up some sort of small-mammal-eating bird’s poop hole, since there were sunbleached bones all over the route for most of the first half. The climbing was fun, the scenery beautiful, and Chris seconded Rhi on the same route right behind us on her first trad lead of the trip. Rhi did a great job as leader, and Chris did a great job as follower, so a fun and safe time was had by all. The descent was a free-hanging rappel, and I haven’t done a ton of rappelling, so the first step over the edge was scary, but once I got used to it all had oodles of fun.

Next up was seconding Shawn on a stunning 5.9 3-pitch with a roof; I was cleaning as second and did good on the start but then got seriously pumped trying to clean the yellow alien under the roof. Poor Shawn had to hold a few falls, but I did make it up after serious effort involving stemming, jamming and face moves. Chris was a champ on it as the third. All three pitches were excellent… not too hard, but each had some moves that you had to think about which made it fun and challenging. Shawn was, as he and the guys were the whole trip, incredibly patient with us, and very generous with answers to our relative newbie questions. I had my first little emergency during the descent… same free-hanging rappel as I mentioned before, but I had an equipment quirk. I rap with a Black Diamond ATC-XP, and I usually thread it tooth side down (so, teeth toward my brake hand) when rappelling for extra friction on the rope, to slow my descent. This time, because of the rope we were using (it was thick, and relatively used, so it didn’t feed through the device as smoothly in high friction mode), I threaded it teeth-up, for less friction. I started my rap, and the cable on my device got jammed between the two ropes in my rappel, and the device jammed. I couldn’t unweight it to unjam the device, and started to go through my options. I had a prussik-cord on me and I instantly reached for that, because I knew I could use a friction knot to ascend my rope and unweight the device; but, tying the knot takes time. Alex was up above, and gave me the faster solution — wrap the rappel rope around my thigh four or five times to act as a break, and then try to hand-over-hand to unweight the device. Alex’s advice worked and was much quicker than the friction know would have been — so, note to self — don’t always go for the friction knot just because it seems safe and comfortable to me — there may be something quicker involving less gear to try first. By the way — my prussik was free because we used firemans’ rappels for backups — we weren’t rap-ing without backup. I’m not likely to use the device in that direction again — it could have been just a total fluke, but in retrospect, the angle of the device is prone to jamming because the teeth-up position lets the device crank further toward the brake hand than a typical ATC would.

Crisis averted, and many lessons learned, another beautiful climbing day was over.

Day four took us to Real Hidden Valley, where many of us started out at Locomotion Rock (I think). I think there was a 5.7 I did second to Jason (but Chris says I’m remembering that wrong) and then we hopped on a 5.5 layback that was a lot of fun. There was a hard (for me) 5.6 crack (picture is Alex on lead on that route) that provided ample photography opportunities… the crack was super classic, but the first few moves the hand jams were utterly smooth from so much traffic, so I took a nice good fall (it actually took me by surprise, which doesn’t happen very often). The offwidth to the right of the 5.6 was AWESOME and almost wore out my jeans.

While we were on the easier stuff, Alex and Rhi and V (I think) got on a 10b sport route that Jason lead later in the day with Chris as second (which provided, I think, the best photo opportunities of the whole trip). Everybody was totally bad ass on that route… it was incredible to watch.

Day five took us back to Real Hidden Valley… I don’t remember the name of the crag, but I think it was something with Buttress in it. Shawn, I think, lead an incredible 5.9 sport route… hard, frictiony, with the bomber holds being things like teeny edges and friction slopers… my notes say I was crabby and not into it, but thinking back, in retrospect, it’s one of the climbs I think of most fondly… it was hard, and different from what I usually climb, and I remember it being just incredible and feeling like a big achievement.

I tied in to belay Alex on a huge 5.9 crack next, in prep for someone else to second him and clean… and then, nobody wanted to second him and clean, and I was tied in, so I got the job. Alex was incredibly patient… he had to hold my falls in one section, and had to provide abundant encouragement in others… I honestly didn’t think I was going to be able to do the climb, but I couldn’t exactly back off and leave hundreds of dollars of Alex’s gear in the crack and make somebody else do it. Well, I could have, but after the week, and everything the guys put up with from us, I didn’t want to. So, after falls, and inelegant climbing, and almost hyperventilating, and then (I kid you not) a short hailstorm, I finished the route and did the hop-across-high-up while Alex belayed my walk over, and then he lowered me off the route. It was “only” a 5.9, but still — it was fun despite being hard and beyond my normal comfort level… Alex was great, and the climb was a cap off to a perfect week.

So, sorry all who were on the trip if this is super me centered… but, I’ll try to do better on reporting other people’s achievements in the future. As for your feelings, you can do your own blog. There are enough feelings on mine, just with me. So, I’ll wrap it up with my list of things I learned at J-tree…

1. Lots about rappelling as listed above, and lots about safe multipitch and trad gear placement technique, thanks to Jason, Shawn and Alex.

2. Don’t look, when the other van passes your car, and Alex is in the other van.

3. Wear your climbing clothes and pack your extra warm layers and going-home clothes. Everything else is completely unnecessary, since it’s too cold to change anyway, so what you’ve got on when you get there is what you’ll have on when you leave.

4. Learn your partners’ racking and packing preferences. That way, when you’re on the ground, and she or he is taking down the anchor and descending, you can be packing up his or her pack to get you on to the next crag as quickly as possible.

5. Cold, day-old pasta with olive oil, salt and pepper is the best climbing lunch ever.

6. Percolators and Coleman stoves really do make the best camp coffee.

7. Comedy CDs are the best way to go for road trips because you listen, laugh, get some extra oxygen, and stay awake better.

8. Dennys is way better at 3 am than 6 pm.

9. Sometimes you just have to finish the route, even if you climb badly, you lose skin, you hyperventilate, and it hails. Somebody’s got to get the gear out.

10. Sometimes, when you climb, you actually do fall.

11. Out of all the colors, green nalgene bottles seem to be the ones mose likely to go AWOL.

So, I think that’s it. Thanks to the J-Tree 06 posse… let’s do it again next year.

Two final comments about Joshua Tree. First, yes, it truly is as beautiful (more beautiful) than in these pictures. Second, yes, the climbing is as hard as you’ve heard. And, as good.

Filed under: Climbing Photos, Joshua Tree, Trip Reports

Just back from winter climbing heaven

From Joshua Tree P…

We are back from Joshua Tree, tired, and our bodies a little worse for the wear. I’ve been going through our pictures (including some by our friend Shawn who is a real photographer and was kind enough to pick up our camera and snap the shutter frequently during the trip) and they are kind of a perfect example of the Joshua Tree phenomenon… they just don’t even scratch the surface. Just like our week there didn’t even scratch the surface. We didn’t make it to all of the climbing areas in the park. We only visited a few crags in five climbing days, but what we saw and climbed was breathtaking. I don’t have enough written down to do a play by play trip report, so I’ll try to keep this entry short and just reflect a little bit on the week. Next time I’ll try to take better notes, and more pictures. This time, click here for my web album of some of the better shots that ended up on our camera thanks to Shawn, Chris and I.

I’ve said a few times today that when I think back on the week my eyes well up — it could be the delerium that comes with driving the 2am to 10am shift during our marathon twenty-plus hour trip home; or, it could be that we just had a perfect climbing trip with our climbing partners and I’m torn between longing to still be there and knowing that my body and especially the skin on my little hands need rest.

Firsts… thanks to our generous climbing partners I did my first real seconding on trad routes, my first multipitch climbing, my first free-hanging rappel, my first gear snafu that required problem solving while suspended on that free-hanging rappel, my first offwidth, my first climb during a hailstorm… there may be other firsts, but that’s what springs to mind. The climbing was challenging, physically and mentally. Usually Chris and I are partners and we climb only what we can safely lead; on this trip, we were with much better, stronger, more experienced climbers, so we were able to climb routes we would only have been able to admire from the ground if it were just the two of us.

And now, we’re home, showered, and headed to bed to dream of our next trip to Joshua Tree.

Filed under: Joshua Tree

Countdown to J-Tree 2006

So, our next big adventure is an upcoming trip to Joshua Tree National Park with a bunch of our climbing friends. We’re gearing up for what is sure to be an adventure — Joshua Tree camping is reportedly rustic (think, we’re brining in our own water), the climbing reportedly tends toward the epic (at least, for modern sport climbers who don’t know how to place gear or build anchors). I’ve been reading up on the John Long books to try to get myself mentally prepared and to increase my skills, and have also tried to practice and at least learn in theory some self-rescue techniques just in case. But really, the things I’m thinking about are logistics. Without water, is it possible to find some kind of big coffee pod to help keep my camp percolator clean and necessitate less washing? My law partner suggested a power adapter and taking my Senseo coffee pot with me to use in the car. I really dig the way that guy thinks.

Most of all, I just can’t wait to hit the road. Chris and I went years without using our vacation time, when a long weekend was about all we could do, and a week off happened about once every two years. I think now we’re catching up for lost time. We live vacation to vacation, and while that may sound pitiful, I think it actually keeps life and our stressful jobs on a bit more even keel. The next two weeks are going to be hectic, getting all the ducks in a row at home, at work, and for the trip, but it will all be worth it when we hti the road.

Now, indulge me one cheezy graphic I couldn’t help but put up on myspace…

Free Countdown Clocks at WishAFriend.com

Filed under: Joshua Tree