Liberty Bell Beckey Route Trip Report, Washington Pass, July 4th, 2009

For the second year in a row, my fourth of July was spent miles and miles from the nearest fireworks in an alpine wonderland. This year brought my first real trip to the North Cascades for climbing. The North Cascades is an alpine playground… more peaks than you can count, beautiful and wild views, and so many traditional routes it takes a series of guidebooks to plan a weekend.

We got in late on Saturday, so spent the first afternoon trying to climb in a way-too-hot Mazama. After calling it a day, we logisticized and packed and pre-fed and pre-hydrated for a long day on Sunday at Washington Pass. I took down approach and descent information, and drew a topo of the routes we were considering, to tuck into my pocket just in case we had routefinding issues the next day.

GR and I were out with friends Tiffany and Randy. Tiffany and Randy (pictured above on the true summit of the Beckey Route) are “real” climbers… they climb mountains, not just rocks. The four of us planned to start on the Beckey Route (II, 5.6) on Liberty Bell’s Southwest Face and then had ideas for other routes we’d do if we had time. GR’s first ever copy of Climbing Magazine, back when he was an aspiring climber rather than the Gear Rescuer he is now, featured Washington Pass, and alpine routes there are one of his inspirations for becoming a climber. This weekend was our first opportunity to actually get into the area and get a taste of some of Washington’s most classic alpine climbing.

We did a semi-alpine start (alarm set for 5am) anticipating another very hot day. We made the Blue Lake trailhead with an almost empty parking lot, which was a huge surprise for a holiday weekend. We did our final packing and adjusting, and Randy (the driver) let us know where he’d put the keys. Offhand, I told my partners that just in case, I had an emergency inhaler in my pack, but we won’t need it. As we started up the approach (with roughly 1,500 feet of elevation gain over 1.5 or 2 miles) we moved quickly, with the long-legged boys in front. At just under five feet tall, Tiffany is an absolute champ, and kept up with the guys like a superstar. I fell behind a bit, and caught up with everyone at a rest above the switchbacks in the boulder-strewn, snow-covered-in-parts climbers trail, then had a compelling need to drop pack. My eyes started to well up for no reason, and I recognized the familiar physiological signs and realized… I’m about to have an asthma attack.

I haven’t had an asthma attack in years… I can’t remember having one in the 4.5 years I’ve been climbing. I have really only carried an inhaler for climbing partners — twice, I’ve had asthmatic climbing partners leave theirs behind and need one, and so have gotten in the habit of carrying one just in case.

Because I haven’t had an attack in so long, I noticed the signs too late to head it off — by the time I realized what was going on, I couldn’t breathe. I tried to stay calm, and Tiffany snapped to action to help me get my pack open and fish out the ditty bag. I shook and pumped the not-touched-in-a-year inhaler, hoping it would do the trick, and took a puff. More shaking, more pumping, and another puff. No luck… and no breathing. More shaking, more pumping, and I could smell the familiar, chemical smell of the albuterol finally coming out. I took a couple of puffs and tried a deep breath and could feel my chest loosen and the air flow. My partners, being eaten alive by mosquitoes, waited patiently and calmly as I calmed down and enjoyed a regular flow of oxygen again, asking questions about asthma, and about what they should know and do if it happens again. During our little mosquito-infested rest, Randy asked what happens if I don’t have an inhaler and I have an attack. We agreed I’d just keep my inhaler handy… (yay for pants with huge pockets) for the rest of the trip, so that we wouldn’t have to find out. After a good rest, and after I’d caught my breath, we headed on up. After awhile, GR took the rope off me, which lightened my load significantly, and we kept up, up, up the approach.

The scramble up to the notch is loose and rocky, and we had parties above us knocking loose rocks and unfortunately despite taking care we did our share of rock knocking too.

Climbers call “ROCK!!!” when they knock loose even a tiny pebble… the mountain goats aren’t as considerate, though — they “goat solo” the approach with amazing grace and speed, and tremendous unannounced rockfall. Just reaching the “notch” between Liberty Bell and Concord Tower felt like an accomplishment, even though I had to offload the rope to do it.

Here’s a happy Tiffany, just after arriving at the notch. Our time was about 10am, at that point… not too bad, given the relative drama of the approach.

There was a party of three getting ready to start up the Beckey Route in front of us, which gave us a chance to pack our daypacks, snack a bit, hydrate and get geared up for the route. GR and I’d planned to swing leads on the route and then try to get in a second peak on Concord Tower — but I was completely wiped from the approach, and GR was up for leading the whole Beckey Route, so that was what we focused on. He made great time up the first pitch and belayed me up; GR lead the second pitch up a 5.7-ish hand crack variation, and I followed, cleaned the gear low in the handcrack, then climbing a narrow chimney with as much grace as possible wearing a summit pack. Randy said that we’d missed the 5.5 chimney the main route follows, but I didn’t see any other chimneys — so who knows. Regardless, we had fun.

Here are some views from the first and second belays:

And, of GR on the third pitch of the route.

The views got better and better as we went up, and after GR lead and brought me up the third pitch, we took in the views from the false summit there at the top of the Beckey Route from a nice, comfortable shoulder where we could hang out unroped. GR’s lead was in fine style — his gear was excellently placed, and he decided not to clip any fixed pro. We had a nice long break to take in the views and snack while we waited for Randy and Tiffany.

Here’s a shot from the “false summit” at the top of the Beckey Route, looking out at another climbing party on Concord Tower, with Lexington Tower, and North and South Early Winter Spires in the background:

And, the view through the trees at the shoulder / bivy site at the top of the Beckey Route:

Here’s my new desktop background view of Blue Lake, shot by GR from a scramble up above the top of the Beckey Route:

Randy and Tiffany had a bit of drama of their own on the route, thanks to their well-stocked summit pack. They wound up having to leave the pack on the belay ledge below the chimney pitch, planning on a pack retrieval at the end of the day.

When they reached the false summit where we were waiting, they wanted to go up to the full summit. The full summit is an unroped scramble, requiring a reported “5.7 bouldering move” on a slab, unprotected, to gain a ledge from which another fifth class unprotected scramble leads to the summit slabs. Don and Randy bouldered up the slab, then belayed Tiffany and I up.

From the ledge, Randy hip-belayed Tiffany up to the summit, but without communication (wind and distance impaired it) and without my rock shoes, I felt like I’d pushed my limits enough for the day. I wasn’t worried about getting up, but I was concerned about getting down. I didn’t know the quality of Randy’s stance and we couldn’t communicate in order to establish that he was solid, and seriously — I’d already had enough adrenaline for one day. My risk tolerance overwhelmingly asserted its desire for the relative safety of the ledge to the unknowns of the summit, and I opted for safety.

When my friends came back down, raving about the views, it was hard — of course, I’d have liked to have been up there with them — but, next time I know to at least have sticky rubber for the summit, and, have a better idea of what I’m in for to reach it. We rapped down the slab to reach the shoulder of the false summit, then packed up and headed for the rappel stations back down to the notch. We had two ropes but opted for single rope rappels, given the reputation of the route as being a rope-eater, and our raps went pretty smoothly, with one stuck rope but GR was able to clear it on rap, without further incident.

By the time we got down to the notch, it was already late in the day (approximately 6pm). Randy and Tiffany retrieved their stashed pack by re-leading the first pitch and rapping off a tree at the top, then faced a stuck rope of their own. After trying various rope-unsticking tricks, they were able to two-man the rope to unstick it, and with much effort, got their rope down.

Our hopes of a second route would have to wait for our next trip up. I knew, based on the difficulty of the scramble up, that the descent was going to be the last crux of the day, so we headed down following descent beta from a group of guides who were out for the day on Concord Tower. The recommended descent path from the notch is to hug the base of Concord Tower until you see the climber’s trail on your right. The base along Concord Tower was much better than the loose scramble up the middle of the gully, but when we went right to meet what we thought was the climber’s trail, we wound up off of the trail we’d come up on. We kept meeting, then somehow, losing, our ascent trail. Randy and Tiffany are comfortable on such loose terrain from their mountaineering experiences; GR’s a skier, so he moves easily over such loose terrain.

I, on the other hand, am not a mountain goat. Again, my less-than-suited-for-the-task shoes were a liability. I had two scary slips on the way down … Tiffany kept me company even though I was moving slowly, and both Randy and Tiffany tried to coach me on techniques for moving more safely over the terrain. Even now — in July — there are snow crossings and areas where you have to watch for postholes around boulders. While crampons and an ice axe may be overkill, I do think the next time I’ll be prepared with more suitable approach shoes and snow cups on my poles. The descent was quite stressful for me, though my climbing partners seemed to be having fun, and when we got below the loose soil and talus, and snow, and back onto nice groomed gentle switchbacks, I was one incredibly happy camper. The light got dimmer and dimmer, to nearly dark by the time we reached the car, but the end of the hike was fun and lighthearted despite the man-eating mosquitoes who seemed completely undeterred by our repellents and layers of clothing.

We reached our camp at Early Winter campground between Washington Pass and Mazama, and quickly made dinner, which we ate while nearly asleep at the picnic table. We all crashed hard that night, and slept in late the next morning. The plan was a day trip to Index for Sunday, but that will be a separate blog post.

Logistics and Postscripts
Despite only getting in one route, we definitely ticked a classic, and had an unbeatable learning experience that resulted in four safe and sound aspiring alpinists at the end of the day. Even though I have a very healthy respect for approaches and descents, I underestimated the seriousness of this one — I’ll aim to be better prepared footwear-wise, and, will scout the descent path in way more detail on my way up the approach, to try to avoid the trail-finding hassles we had on our way down. I still have a terrible habit of just following the leader on the descent, which works if we’re all equally matched in terms of hiking skill — but when I’m the weak link, I need to be able to find a weak-link way down. The climbing on the Beckey Route is fun; the approach and descent once you leave the Blue Lake trail are definitely the crux.

The routes were crowded, despite the long approaches and objective hazards associated with alpine climbing. An early start means you have more options if you move fast, and, more daylight if you move slower than expected.

Helmets are not optional. Sunscreen and sun cover is also a must; even with high SPF on, my freckles are now in full glory and my arms and face got a lot of sun.

Also, I guess for me, carrying an emergency inhaler is now also not optional — much to my surprise. I thought I’d “kicked” asthma through weight loss, improved cardiovascular fitness and conditioning; but apparently not. That was a heck of a scare, actually — it left me feeling a bit drained of energy and bold! But, now I know to be prepared, always, just in case.

Finally, if anyone has tips for mosquito repelling… please share ‘em. The spray I typically use worked for a few minutes, but then the bugs just kept biting. We had all forms of bug spray, from lemon eucalyptus to chemical, and I came home covered in mosquito bites. I’m contemplating some Ex Officio Buzz Off mosquito repellent clothing but am curious to hear tips from other climbers. I used to have success with a solid dose of garlic and B-vitamins, but didn’t take those precautions this trip!

How was your fourth? Please tell me all about it in the comments!

For more information:

• SummitPost page on The Beckey Route
• RockClimbing.com page on The Beckey Route
• Washington Pass chapter of Rock Climbing Washington, by Jeff Smoot (with a new edition available now!)
• Liberty Bell Mountain (from Climbing Washington’s Mountains by Jeff Smoot)
• Cascade Alpine Guide: Rainy Pass to Frasier River, by Fred W. Beckey
• Weekend Rock: Washington, by David Whitelaw.

The guidebooks we used for our planning are all available from Amazon.com.

Filed under: Climbing Photos, North Cascades, Trip Reports

Memorial Weekend bouldering, Leavenworth, WA

The holiday weekend took me to Leavenworth, WA for a mostly-bouldering adventure. Proving, yet again, that there is PLENTY of moderate bouldering in Leavenworth, we hit up the Beach and Swiftwater areas at Tumwater Canyon, and had a kinda short session at the Fridge Boulder in Icicle Canyon, along with some good time on Classic Crack and the surrounding routes. This time around, I’ll emphasize the pictures for once!

First stop, as usual, was Leavenworth Mountain Sports (aka, Der Mountain Hausen). Randy, Bounder and Zin all needed shoes. I’ve said this before, but I’ll say it again. Support Leavenworth Mountain Sports. Their sale racks are kick butt, their womens’ apparel selection is completely out of this world, and they’re stocked with essentials for camping and climbing. Shouts out to Kate and Cherly, who put up with our herd of boys cracking dirty jokes each morning while we picked up out last minute “must have’s.” You ladies rock, and your impeccable taste is matched only by the circumference of your biceps and your tolerance for dirty jokes.

We started out at Tumwater Canyon, the Beach Area, at Leavenworth, WA. It was here that Gear Rescuer (aka, GR) began his tear it up weekend. After sending a tougher variation of The Fin (V2) as a warm up, he made short work of a number of V3s. Here’s Jumper (V3).

And, Randy taking a turn…

And then next up was the Wonderkid (aka, Zin, or Zen, or Boo, or apparently his real name might be Mike). He’s only climbed a couple of times, and I think this was his first day in his own rock shoes. He was a TOTAL natural, and got a lot of encouragement from us old crusties to stick with it.

From there, we worked around the boulder, with a send by GR of U2, another V3; and then the guys and I worked (and some sent, but I didn’t yet) “F*ck the Crystal,” a V3 with delightful body tension and footwork required down low, to a slanting rail, with a dyno to the top. Here’s GR set up for what was ultimately a successful dyno and topout.

Day two took us to the Fridge boulder to start, in Icicle canyon. I have a V3 project on the Fridge that I still haven’t gotten — I seriously need to work my dynamic movement to someday get Cellar Door done. The guys took turns on Fridge Center (V4) and Fridge Right (V4). GR had a great flash on Fridge Center, and the boys all worked Fridge Right.

We had a pretty quiet morning, which is unusual at the Fridge, where you can always count on running into other boulderers. Sure enough, the quiet didn’t last… a bunch of folks from Portland and Eugene rolled in, as well as some friends of friends from Seattle, so after awhile it was a total scene. Every inch of ground was padded, which made for some pretty bold attempts and sends.

After awhile, though, we opted for a more quiet location, and headed for the Classic Crack area, which was busy but not swarmed. Made some new (to me) friends there, running into three of GR’s old friends. Randy finished our lead on Classic Crack and since there wasn’t a lineup behind us, we all took turns getting to know the route in detail; the most by GR who has a date with her on lead next trip. I took a number of laps, trying to get the crux worked out reliably enough that I can confidently get on, on lead. It’s the hardest “5.8″ I’ve ever climbed, but we visit it just about every time I go to Leavenworth, and I’m definitely improving my crack technique (especially for wider hands and fists) each time. I look forward to someday getting on that route on lead.

We were all pretty well thrashed, but before bed perked up enough to decide to head out to the Swiftwater area in the morning for a few more boulders before heading for home.

During a gas stop, Randy and Bounder (aka John) met Sarah and Mary, who weren’t sure if their climbing party was going to show or not. We traded introductions and beta on getting to Swiftwater just in case, and then we headed out. We got to Swiftwater and started warming up, and Mary and Sarah and their friends came out to join us. We had a nice, chill day at Swiftwater. We warmed up on the Prey / Schisthead boulder, with Prey, a fun V0 seeing a lot of traffic. Here’s me, warming up on the middle of the boulder.

With tons of spotters and a well padded floor, our attention turned to Schisthead (a V2 up the center of the boulder) and its V3 variation (starting from the left). GR sent the V3 onsight, and Randy very nearly topped out, but then his mantled heel slipped on moss and he took a big fall from the top. He was okay, minus a few fingertips, and we kept at it. I flashed the V2, which was really exciting for me.

I usually don’t get really sketched by topouts, and even highball topouts… unlike in roped climbing, where I’m a total head case, in bouldering I tend to just know what I have to do and execute. This time, I worked through the route smoothly and with confidence; I got in position for the big push to the top,

and then worked my feet up high. I pushed for the lip and couldn’t reach it; I worked my fingers and feet up delicately and reached the lip. I looked at my options for moving my feet up and didn’t like what I saw, so the thought “I have to downclimb” flashed through my head. I think my fear of heights actually kicked in to make my brain and body override the instinct to downclimb or come off, since I snapped myself out of it, matched hands on the lip to move my feet up, then carefully pulled the mantle. It was a heart pumper — definitely the highest and least secure topout I’ve pulled — but it was FUN. Shaking with adrenaline, I walked off and was pleased with finishing the problem.

Bounder worked the V3, which added a slightly technical traverse to the start. I’d like to to that link up, too, but after topping out I wasn’t sure I wanted to do that mantel again that day!

After we’d bouldered out those routes, we headed down to the Cave. There aren’t any rated problems in the book, but there are two lines out to the lip that were tons of fun. I actually did respectably on the right line — despite being super steep, it played to my footwork and body tension strengths. We worked on it for some time, then the boys’ attention switched to the line on the left. GR came close to linking it all up…

and Randy’s beta was incredibly productive. Bounder took a few turns, despite bleeding feet from breaking in new shoes…

And GR worked it until he was so tired he had no option but to take a good rest.

After that, we crossed the street with Mary and Sarah and Ian to visit Royal Flush, a stunning roof crack rated V2. With careful padding and spotting, GR and Randy worked it, with some solid attempts. I had a hard time getting off the ground — the guys were starting with jams loose enough they could move off of them to make progress on the start; I’d get in fist jams good enough to hold my body weight to get off the ground, and then I couldn’t get them loose to move on the route! It was a really inspiring line, and one I’d like to come back to, but the landing was scary even with pads and unbelievable spots. GR and Randy worked the unlikely looking Sleeve Ace (V3) which I tried a few times, but couldn’t figure out the starting footwork on. I think I was also just plain hosed. My forearms and triceps took turns burning and saying “ouch,” and my attempts on Royal Flush had about done in my hands. We were all completely exhausted, so decided to call it a day.

Yet again, it was another fantastic weekend in Leavenworth, and I made a bunch of new friends. Between my bicep tendon which I’m still rehabbing (but thankfully, am cleared to climb on) and the workout from this weekend, I’m EXHAUSTED. I’m looking forward to taking it a bit easy this week, and working endurance in the gym to balance out all the bouldering I’ve been doing lately!

How was your Memorial weekend?

Filed under: Bouldering, Climbing Photos, Leavenworth, Trip Reports

Index Lower Town Wall trip report, part 2, plus mental training and shoulder health

To be honest, I have to admit… I’m feeling a little bit adrenaline-d out.

First, on Saturday I had the brilliant idea to go mountain biking solo. Some of you have already heard how that turned out. For those who didn’t, here’s the short version of Sara and a bear mutually scare each other, submitted as a comment to our local mountain biking blog.

You’ve also already heard most of the story from our Index trip, but here’s a little bit more.

It was a kind of big weekend, despite relatively little climbing, and it’s cemented Index as one of the areas that I aspire to be competent enough to tear it up at. I was too busy climbing to take pictures, but hope to spend a lot of time at Index now that I have such warm fuzzies about the place, so will try to get you some eye candy the next time I’m up.

I would be remiss in not linking to the WCC’s Index Town Wall update page. In case you’ve been on Mars, the Lower Town Wall, one of Washington’s most beloved climbing areas, is being sold by the current private property owner. WCC and the Access Fund are working on an acquisition plan. Please, bookmark that page, and keep in touch with the WCC about what you can do to help with this process.

I had two goals for the weekend: (1) to lead a pitch on GM, a classic Index 5.9; and (2) to push myself beyond my comfort zone on gear.

Little did I expect, that GM would be our first stop. After a bit of confusion over who was climbing with whom, I wound up as second to Shawn, with Peter and GR in a two party after us. Shawn lead the first pitch, which I’d fallen on last year on toprope, but it felt fun and was pretty relaxed this time around. When we got to the first belay, Shawn looked expectantly at me, I looked at the pitch above, and I decided, what the hell. Looking up from the belay, I thought I could adequately protect the crux moves to keep myself off the deck. I figured it would be a scary, but relatively safe fall, with one of my favorite belayers on the other end of the rope. So, I tried to think positive thoughts while racking up, and then set off.

The second pitch is very short. It’s basically up a good crack system off the belay, to an arching shallow roof, with placements underneath the roof that can be reached before you start the no-feet friction traverse out the shallow roof, with good hands underneath. The friction is sufficient that with body tension you can work your way out the roof, so it’s more scary looking than it is in reality. Once you get a hand around the edge of the roof, it’s a good jug; then it’s forearm jams between, or reaching back to edges behind the roof and a huge deep flake to the right. I opted for a left forearm jam, thrown in and jammed securely into the crack. With my forearm solidly and securely jammed, my feet smeared on absolutely nothing, I let go of the jug with my right hand and reached for my #4 Camalot to get a piece in above me.

I then realized the err of my racking ways.

My right hand was free; my left arm solidly jammed; and my #4 was on my left side. I could have moved up by grabbing an edge with my right hand to free my left arm, but the security of such a move was uncertain. I decided, instead, to try to “get to” my #4 with my right hand, which turned into quite the production.

I don’t remember making noise, but Peter and GR say I was pretty — um — vocal, as I grunted and stretched, and fingered through the cams racked on my harness. I honestly don’t know how long I was jammed there by my forearm (which was totally bomber — enough so that I have a huge swollen bruise to show for it) but it felt like a LONG time. Shawn was encouraging, and calm, and ultimately helped talk me through my gear biner by biner (since I couldn’t see my back, where the #4 was racked) until I had my fingertips stretched to the right biner for the #4. Even once I had my fingertips on it, I had a hard time getting the biner off my gear loop. Once I did, I quickly placed the piece, clipped the rope, pulled myself up with my forearm jam and my right hand on the inside of the crack, and got my feet up into the crack. I immediately placed a #5 from the solid stance, clipped it, and finished up the pitch at a much calmer pace. I was happy, and excited, to reach the belay and to bring Shawn up. That was my hardest trad lead to date, and the hardest I’ve had to work for a trad pitch, ever. I was thankful to my partners for cheering me on, and their efforts to try to keep me calm and on task.

We left the #4 and #5 on the pitch for GR’s lead. Shawn lead the (hard) 10b pitch on Heart of the Country to the right of the GM route, then the options for the final pitch were a 5.9 finish on GM, or a 11a finish just to the right of it on Heart of the Country. Since I’d left my big gear for our second party, and had loaned them my #3 for their ascent, I didn’t feel I had enough big gear to protect the final 5.9 pitch — it looked to me like I’d have to run it out significantly, over not-gimme climbing. We eyed, and discussed the 11a pitch, which actually looked doable and we had the gear for it, but I decided I didn’t want to get in over my head, when I can come back another time and lead GM ground up as one of my next lead goals. We called it a good warm up, and rapped off, taking a break for Shawn to toprope a pitch he likes, then we headed to the Lower Town Wall proper to see if any of the classic 5.9s were open.

GR got on Princely Ambitions, which he calls “I Wanna Be A Princess,” a super long, super exposed 5.9 at Lower Town Wall. I was geared up to lead it but completely lost my nerve watching him work through the crux, a delicate traverse on small crimps out to the right, with a kind of technical gear placement to then traverse way left again. Traverses aren’t my strongest suit, and I felt like I’d burned through all of my “bold” on the GM lead, so instead of leading, after GR and Peter had cleaned the gear and rapped off, I toproped the wildly traversing Princely Ambitions.

It was all fun and games until I got to the far right hand crimp traverse, and then my fear of a huge pendulum toprope swing got the best of me. I called down to Shawn that I’d had enough, and wanted to bail, and got an appropriately snarky response, basically, to suck it up and rock climb. I took a few deep breaths and then tentatively worked my way right, terrified of the prospect of that huge swinging fall. I’m lucky — given how negative my thinking was — that I was able to pull the moves and didn’t fall. I mantled up and then worked my way back left. The route is a series of mantels one after another — the mantels would be scary on lead; but the traverses were scary on toprope. The best way to go would be to lead the route and then bring up a second with some gear placed to prevent the swinging falls I faced on toprope.

So, note to self, sometimes it’s better to just suck it up and lead, than to try to do something “less scary” by toproping.

After that, we headed back to the Country to get on the first pitch (10d) of Cunning Stunt, a classic, well protected bolted face pitch. Peter did a bold lead on it, and we took turns on toprope laps since it was close to the end of the day and nobody was waiting for it. I look forward to working up the courage to lead it — the cruxes are well protected with bolts nearby, so it would make a great, hard sport project for me.

We didn’t get in a ton of pitches, but we did have a fantastic day. As always, I’m thankful for my climbing partners who stick by me even though I seem to be having a fear / bold setback this spring. After this weekend, I have two things to work on in earnest: (1) my fear, which seems to have made a strong comeback after a hiatus last winter; and (2) my left shoulder, which has been giving me a little bit of grief the last few months, but which is really sore after my prolonged full weight dead hang of an arm jam on that side on my GM lead.

I’m open to suggestions on both, please!

First, I’m ordering a copy of The Rock Warrior’s Way: Mental Training for Climbers, by Arno Ilgner. I’ve heard mixed reviews of the book, but I’ve already read the “mental training” sections of the other training books I have, and I need to add additional tools to my arsenal.

Second, I’m incredibly lucky to be a climber who currently has the privilege of paying through the nose for health insurance. Since that may not always be the situation, I’m going to put that insurance to good use and try to figure out how to keep my shoulders more healthy. I didn’t injure it climbing — I gave myself a touch of bicep tendinitis (or is it tendonitis?) doing pushups to try to AVOID a climbing injury a few months ago, and since resting and recouping that injury, that shoulder just hasn’t been as strong / pain free / quick to recover as the other. Unfortunately, that has meant no pushups or bench press, although I have been able to keep up with dips to try to keep my shoulders balanced — but I’m afraid the lack of pushups and bench has aggravated my already out-of-balance shoulders to the point where now, after that lengthy dead hang on that shoulder, my rotator cuff is sore. I suspect that all of these factors ultimately will cause, if I don’t do something to reverse course, rotator cuff tendonitis.

I’m resting, icing, Aleve-ing, and am checking around for local medical folks who have experience with climbers, so that I can hopefully figure out how to keep it from getting worse, and strengthen both my shoulders to prevent future injury. My dear family doc just called and gave me a referral to a PT she thinks highly of, so I’ll let you know how it turns out. It’s also feeling better already just with a day’s rest, ice and Aleve, so I’m optimistic that I’ve caught it early enough to not be too serious.

I look forward to your thoughts on mental training, and shoulder health! I’ll keep you posted on both fronts, and I promise, I won’t be going out mountain biking solo again any time soon. Take care and be safe out there!

Filed under: Index, Injuries and Rehab, Trip Reports

Tieton River Climbing, May 2009

I spent last weekend thrashing myself at Tieton River climbing area, near Yakima, WA. We arrived late on Friday to find our usual abode, the Windy Point campground, closed. We made do; Don and I were in the C-RV so stealth camping isn’t usually an issue; friends Susie, Steve and Kari were in a tent and got blown around badly. Despite not much sleep, we had a cheery morning of breakfast and coffee around a Windy Point picnic table.

Saturday: Lava Point & Royal Columns
Day one’s plan was Lava Point, an area I’ve visited and had tons of fun at before. The crag was empty — I don’t believe we saw another climbing party all day.

We started out on Steal Your Face, a fun 10c on the Deadheads wall; Screaming for Rope, a 5.9 with a tricky start; B Weir of the Dead and Artificially Insteminated, SUPER fun 10a’s that might be slightly easier for us shorter / smaller fingered types; and Travalava and scoria, two 5.9s that make great warmups and are both get thumbs up. I had my eye on Saint of Circumstance, a 10c that looked like it had great moves up to two challenging roofs, but didn’t quite have another 10c lead attempt in me after having to take on Steal Your Face on lead. Don was inspired by Fit to be Tie Dyed, a 5.11a that you can toprope off the anchors of B Weir of the Dead. He absolutely styled it on lead, and I decided to finally indulge in a little “ice cream” (aka, toproping) since I’d been leading so far. The route was FUN. There’s one really big move on it that stumped me for a bit, but after trying a bunch of different approaches finally figured it out.

Here’s a view of Rimrock Lake from the base of Lava Wall:

And, Steve on lead:

We only saw a couple of ticks on Saturday, which was an unexpected treat since this is the high season for ticks up there.

From there, Colin and Susie wanted to get some time in playing with toys (aka, traditional gear) so we headed for the South Fork area in the hopes of getting up toward Astral Wall. The show stopped us about five miles below the trailhead, so that excursion will have to wait. The walls up there looked AWESOME from the road, so I can’t wait to get back when the roads are passable.

Instead, we headed to Royal Columns, which was packed with more climbers than I’ve ever seen there. There was a big herd at the Bend, as well. Susie got on lead (route unknown, see picture), and Colin and I headed for Twin Cracks, which looked like a fun 5.6 from the ground. I’m not 100% sure what the rest of our party did while Colin and I mini-epic’d on Twin Cracks (#57 in the Tieton guidebook), but Colin and I had a mini-adventure, for sure.

Colin lead, placing great gear all the way up. He reached a point where he could go straight up to the cliff top, or right, exiting out on top of a pillar (where the anchor bolts are indicated in the Guide). He scouted around and didn’t see bolts, so headed to the top of the cliff, where he also didn’t find bolts. He did a very careful downclimb to reach the decision point, again, and then went to his right to exit on top of the pillar — still, no bolts. He luckily had enough gear to build an anchor, which he did, then we tried to plan the descent sans bolts. There are bolts down and climber’s right at the anchor of Render us Weightless (#54 in the book) but Colin wasn’t crazy about that prospect, and since he was on a solid gear anchor we decided he’d bring me up, I’d clean, and we’d walk off. We heard from another party, once he was already anchored and we were trying to sort the situation out, that there was a walk off, so that sounded like the best option. As an alternative, even if we couldn’t find the walk off, our gear would be cleaned, and we could use the gear anchor to belay one of us to the rap station on #54, so going up was the best course of action.

The climbing was 5.6 MY ASS. Colin wow’d me with his lead on Classic Crack during our last trip to Leavenworth; I found that 5.8 much easier than this “5.6.” The route was uncomfortable offwidth in areas. I actually enjoy offwidth — but this was a funny offwidth. In between for feet (too big for foot jams, too small for heel toe jams) and small offwidth for arms — my forearms kept getting stuck in the crack when I tried to move up on my jams. Usually on “easier” offwidth you’ll find edges inside that you can grab onto … if they were there, I sure didn’t find ‘em. It was a thrashy, desperate jamfest for me, all the while impressed with Colin’s lead. I topped out, breathing hard, after grunting my way up. Colin’s improvised anchor was great, so we could have belayed over to the rap anchor on #54, but we agreed to try the walk off. I pulled up the rope and butterflied it to backpack it (figuring, I didn’t want to drop it, in case we had any issues with the walk off) then we headed up to the cliff top to look for a way down.

After seeing the cliff top up close and personal, I’ll reiterate…

Helmets are mandatory at Royal Columns.

I’ve seen trundled rockfall there before, but the cliff top is extremely rocky and loose in areas. We worked our way up a sandy and rocky lightly vegetated trail (on which we ran into a friendly local rattlesnake) and then cut to climber’s left before reaching the very top of the ridge to see if we could make our way. We carefully worked a sandy trail to a point where it looked like were were going to cliff out and sure enough — it cliffed out right at a site with a couple of options for rap stations. SCORE, and glad we hadn’t tossed the rope. We rapped off the anchors for #67 just as Steve reached us on his search party. The sun was setting, we were all on our way down safely, and it had been a full, great climbing day.

Sunday: Dream Wall and back to Lava Wall
After a leisurely morning, we made our way toward Dream Wall. The wall is further climber’s left of Lava Wall, but takes a slightly different approach. We hadn’t explored the area before, and wound up descending a gully to climber’s right of Tick Wall. Don trucked ahead to scout Dream Wall, and the rest of us started to notice ticks. Lots, and lots of ticks. We tucked in what we could tuck in, and picked ticks off of each other, then followed Don to Dream Wall.

The wall really is lovely despite an appearance that would suggest “loose and chossy.” I can’t vouch for the rock quality since I didn’t climb there; instead, I got out my Naturapel and got to (hopefully) tick repelling. Kari carries Jungle Juice, and while I don’t usually use DEET-containing repellents while climbing, I did put a shot of hers on each ankle, just in case. We also resorted to the old-fashioned approach of covering up… after Susie found a tick that had sunk in at her waistline, we tucked pantlegs into socks, shirts into pants, and stayed as covered up as possible. Extensive photography was not allowed because we all looked so ridiculous, though I couldn’t help but take a picture of me & Susie’s rockin fashion. I predict this will be the next big “look” on the runways of Paris, Milan and NYC:

Steve, Kari and Susie all had fun on the PG rated Pickles, a 5.8 that seems to be cleaner than at the publishing of the guidebook, since none in our party mentioned anything particularly scary. Here’s a photo of Kari on it:

Don started up a 10a (Lava Sundae, perhaps?) but a few bolts up was not feeling it; Steve started up it later to clean the draws, hit the same point, and was not feeling it either so down-lead to clean the gear. I’ll definitely go back to Dream Wall on a day when conditions are better (namely, when it’s not literally crawling with ticks)… there are a few routes there and on Tick Wall that looked fantastic, though some were wet this trip.

From there, Steve, Don and Susie crossed the talus to get back to Lava Wall proper; Kari and I decided to head up and over on the trails at the cliff tops since that was a known quantity and we didn’t want to risk bushwhacking through tick infested foliage. The report from the adventurers was that the low route wasn’t bad.

Back at Lava Wall, we were a bit bummed to find the place covered in ticks. In addition to crawling around down low, they seemed to be falling from the cliff tops, and inevitably in the bushes that our ropes were drawn to. Eeew. Despite the bugs, Don officially stepped into Ropegun Mode and put a rope up on Saint of Circumstance, the 10c I had my eye on the day before. The route is awesome. I should have just gotten on it on lead, but didn’t want to try a 10c lead for my warmup, so toproped it. The roofs at the top are hard, and it took me awhile to figure out a sequence for them, but the climbing down low is balancey, delicate, technical, body tension fun. I am finding 10c to be My Grade outside for projects, and am amassing quite a list of 10c projects. This one was no exception, and I look forward to getting back to it to work it on lead. I’m not sure what Kari and Susie got on, but we took turns on the 10c, and Steve started Muted Reality, a bold 11a with a seriously strenuous, difficult section from the third through fifth bolts. Don finished the lead, and Steve and I toproped it. This one is, I think, a bit more challenging for us shorter people — the crux section for me required really awkward footwork and an impossible two finger gaston with my right hand if I was going to do it statically, which I was just too tired to do. Instead, I shifted gears and went for the dyno approach, which I stuck after a few tries.

We were all starting to feel our fatigue, so after cleaning the routes we called it a day. Susie, Steve and Kari turned back toward Bellingham, and Don and I headed for White Pass to home. We took the cutoff on Highway 7 on the way home which was lovely… off the beaten path, and it spit us out southwest of Mt. Rainier for Buffalo burgers at the Mt. Rainier Railroad Dining Co. We wound our way northward and when we suddenly went from middle-of-nowhere to Spanaway, we both would have traded the bustle and lights and noise of Spanaway for the most tick-infested crag on the face of the planet. Going back on the grid, even after a quick weekend trip, just keeps getting harder and harder.

The Tieton River area is an absolute treasure, and it’s quickly overshadowing other Washington areas to become my favorite, partly because of the climbing, and partly because of the beauty and peace of the Tieton river area itself. Enjoy!

Things to know…

• Area Overview: Courtesy of Washington Climbers Coalition, with current information about closures (none in 2009, but raptor closures happen here) and efforts by The Nature Conservancy to acquire property in the canyon.
• Guidebook: Tieton River Rocks, by Marlene Ford & Jim Yoder
• Objective hazards: Despite the ticks, ticks and more ticks we saw this weekend, I’ve seen as many (or more) on Outer Space at Leavenworth, so don’t let them stop you. I have it on good authority (thanks, Andy) that Lava Point and the Cave are the worst for ticks, and their season is March to May. According to Andy, “13 Ticks” got its name when my buddy Matt Perkins took a nap in the grass waiting for Andy to bolt the route. The snakes are no worse (or, even less) than Leavenworth. Use your best judgment, be prepared, and take precautions. Rockfall is a hazard in some areas more than others, so why not just wear your helmet. This weekend, I wore mine while belaying, leading, and toproping. No kidding.
• New routes: New route development continues around the area. I haven’t found updates to Marlene & Jim’s book online yet, but if I do I’ll update. From a climber who loves this area to Andy Fitz and the other first ascentionists who continue to spend their free time scrubbing and cleaning routes (not to mention, their own funds on bolts and anchors), THANK YOU.
• A few more logistics: If you come in via White Pass, you’re out of cell range from pretty much I-5 until you get back to I-5. The peace and quiet is a welcome change from other areas where you routinely hear ringing cell phones at the crags! Plan a communication method with the rest of your party that doesn’t rely on cell phones. Camping is abundant, though before Memorial Day many of the developed campgrounds are closed. Also, watch carefully for deer and elk when on the roads. They are EVERYWHERE, and are unpredictable.

And, a final note on de-tickification, since this is news to some outdoorsy types… I take de-tickifying post trip seriously. Here’s my approach, please share yours in the comments!

1. Before I set foot in my house, I strip into a plastic bag. I go straight to the bath for a good long soak, and then the clothes I was wearing (as well as any other washable goods) go straight into the washing machine.
2. Check yourself, especially unmentionable areas, armpits, waistline, and hairline / scalp carefully for ticks. If you don’t have a buddy to help, use a mirror and be thorough!
3. Empty your gear onto a white sheet one or two pieces at a time. Sort and inspect for ticks and kill any you find. I leave my gear out, on the sheet, for a day or so in case I miss any crawlies … they’re easy to spot moving at their creepy pace on the white sheet. Here’s my gear post-inspection:

   

   Places I tend to find them most often in this inspection are sleeping bags, tents, rope bags and ropes. Eew.

4. Detickify the car. Once all the gear is out, inspect and vacuum thoroughly!

Even with all this, I sometimes find one or two in the car a couple days later. Just be alert, take care, and if you do have the unfortunate experience of a too-close experience with one that digs in, here’s advice from the CDC generally, and on removal here.

Regarding repellents… We all got crawled on, repellents or not. Given the number of ticks we saw (and the number that crawled on) and the relatively few that actually bit in, I’ll be carrying repellent as a regular part of my crag kit from here on out. We even applied some of my non-DEET Naturapel (thanks again, Frank and Kelly at Adventure Medical Kits) during our gear sort just in case, to feet, ankles and arms.

Filed under: Climbing Photos, Tieton, Trip Reports

The RockClimberGirl guide to moderate bouldering in Leavenworth.

No, seriously. There is. I’m not pulling your leg.

I’d been told that bouldering in Leavenworth, WA is no fun until you’re at about V4. I’ve heard it’s punishing, hard, and was looked on with skepticism from my bouldering friends when I announced that I was going to start bouldering up there a few weeks ago. Alas — finding regular climbing partners has been a bit less predictable lately, so I’ve wanted to get used to the idea of climbing activities I can do solo with relative safety, and bouldering is my pick. Lizzy from Dream in Vertical said at one point that bouldering has been great for her lead head, which I definitely still need to work on. And, I’ve been climbing routes almost exclusively for the last few months, so my endurance is up, but my power is lacking. For all those reasons, I decided it’s time to expand my climbing to include bouldering outside. In four plus years of climbing, I’ve done precious little outside bouldering; it’s time to change that.

The short version, for those of you who just want the ticklist. Here are the problems, and their locations, that I’ve found fun so far and worthwhile to play on, whether I finished them or not:

The Fridge Boulder: Cool Down (V0-), Cellar Door (V3), Fridge Center (V4)
Barney’s Rubble: The Rail (V0), Tree Crack (V1), Fun House Stairway (V1+)
Mad Meadows: The Scoop (V2)
Lower Forestland: Breadline (V0+)
Upper Forestland: Sunny and Steep (V2)

And, now the long version.

Cool thing about bouldering #1: No alpine start necessary.
Last weekend, I kidnapped my buddy Peter for my first Leavenworth bouldering trip.
We headed out from Kitsap about 7 am; not the 5 am or so I’m used to for climbing trips. We took our time getting out to Leavenworth, stopping for groceries and stove fuel, and to stop in to Der Mountainhausen, otherwise known as Leavenworth Mountain Sports, just for fun. We arrived at our first destination, the Fridge Boulder, at about noon.

We left the Fridge Boulder at about 4 pm.

In the intervening four hours, Peter and I, repeatedly, threw ourselves at the Fridge Boulder, in an exercise some might call “insanity.” We tried, and tried, and tried problems; trying the same thing, over and over, and hoping for a different outcome. Peter was working “Fridge Center,” a classic Leavenworth V4. I was working Cellar Door, a three move V3 that most folks passing through cruised on their first or second go. I have no idea how many times I tried it. The beta: grab starting sidepull / slot (depending on how you want to go), with your feet low on good holds. Move right hand out to a painful crimpy rail, then work your feet way high on a good left, and crappy right foot. Spring up to a sloping ledge then top out. That whole springing up to the sloping ledge is my downfall. That brings me to:

Cool thing about bouldering #2: Some landings, and falls, can be safe.
I tried to spring for that sloping ledge I have no idea how many times. Every time, I came up somewhere between one and six inches short. Over the course of the day, I actually touched the ledge maybe twice, but couldn’t hang on. Every time, I’d either fall away from the boulder and land safely on a single bouldering pad (whether or not I was being spotted), or, I’d slide down the boulder a bit, but even that didn’t cause any damage. I actually had fun flinging myself at the slopey ledge all day, and it was hard to give up on the problem even though I wasn’t making progress. I’ve got to get a little more confident on my feet to be able to push up to the hold instead of unsuccessfully flailing toward it each time, so this is a project I’ll come back to for sure. I didn’t finish the crux of Fridge Center, but the starting moves are delicate and fun and fantastic. I look forward to working that one too, once I’m a bit stronger.

After that we moved on to Mad Meadows where Peter worked a host of harder problems including the unlikely-for-me sit start to Drugstore Cowboy (V3) which looks fun after the start, and we spotted but didn’t get on the Hueco Route (V1) which looked like fun. I became obsessed with The Scoop, a V2 on The Rail boulder. The problem works up a slopey/pinchy sidepull on the left side of a scoop feature on the rock, to a full extension envelope slot on the right side, with (for me, at least) delicate footwork required to make the reach. From there, it’s good holds up to the topout. I tried and tried the start and couldn’t reach the good envelope slot. Finally, on one attempt that didn’t begin on the start holds, I reached the envelope slot, so then I knew I had no excuse. After a few more tries, I gained the envelope slot after starting on the ground, and then really had no excuse. I had to top out. Oh crap.

Cool thing about bouldering #3: Topping out can be fun.
Without hesitation, I carefully, slowly and deliberately worked my hands and feet up toward the topout, and next I knew I was standing on top of the boulder. I was kind of surprised — it happened really fast, and I didn’t get nervous about the top out, even though I assumed I would. Instead, I just thought, “Well, now I just have to get up there,” and I did. It was super fun. If I’d never topped out on anything that day, it would have been a day well spent — I decided early in the day that I’d rather work V3s (which, really, is very ambitious for me) and not finish a single one, than climb V0s in a try or two all day since I’d learn more. It turns out, V2 is a good sweet spot for me at this point. They’re not gimmes, I learn something from them, but some V2s I can finish, so if I get frustrated with a given V3 or V4 I know to try to find a V2 to work for a possible success.

The next day, we were both pretty worked, so the day started out with a roadside pancake making sesh (turns out if you deep fry Krusteaz whole wheat and honey pancakes in canola oil, they taste better than donuts) and then a leisurely migration to the Barney’s Rubble area. This brings us to…

Cool thing about bouldering #4: The vibe.
Climbing is fun, but climbing is also stressful. There’s lining up enough partners that hopefully, by the time you actually leave, at least one won’t have bailed. There’s all the gear, all the sorting, the racking, the preparation, the packing. There’s the seriousness… the first aid kits, the water-enough-for-the-objective, the food, the planning, the routefinding, the approach, and the who’s taking first lead. I love it, and I tie in every chance I get, but I gotta say… boulderers are on to something.

Bouldering is pretty freaking chill compared to all that roped-up drama. Peter wasn’t really feeling it on Sunday, but heck, we’re just bouldering, so we loaded up coffee, shoes, chalk bags and the bouldering pads and headed for the Barney’s Rubble area. Peter also brought along a little magic elixir, which he claimed helped him feel better after yesterday’s self-abuse… a part-full bottle of red wine. I climbed The Rail (V0) which was fun, including a nice slabby downclimb, and Tree Crack (V1) which was confidence inspiring and great fun. Tree Crack is a nice thin crack for hands to start, up to sections with good holds for hands and some with thinner hands, requiring a bit of foot-trusting. I can’t vouch for the landing, since it is a bit slabby, since I didn’t come off; I just worked up it and really enjoyed it. It has an easy walkoff, which is also a bonus.

I worked Fun House Stairway (V1+) a bit, but it felt unbelievably hard — I could hardly get into a proper sit start on the start hold.

Really, though, that first weekend we were just pretty hosed. We visited with a few nice passer-by boulderers, and ran into a buddy from our gym who’d relocated, so Peter had some magic elixir, I climbed a few easy / fun boulder problems and snacked on oranges, and we had a nice, chill time. Overall, the other boulderers we met were friendly, warm and relaxed. Every once in awhile you see whatever-the-bouldering-equivalent-of-tossing-a-wobbler is, but mostly, the vibe is relaxed and fun, and I think everybody’s just a little bit happier for not having to hike two hours with 30 pounds of gear.

This last weekend, I went back to Leavenworth, and met new friends Fitz and Becca who shared their campfire with me Saturday night, then the guys rolled in late. Colin lead and I cleaned Classic Crack (5.8) as a warm up on Sunday (fun, hard for the grade, I look forward to leading it someday), then we headed for Barney’s Rubble to start the day. The guys worked Alcove Center (V4, with a V5 dyno variation) and I tried it a handful of times, but after missing the first move enough times to bruise my butt to sore, I decided to back off a bit.

I started VERY slow. I was feeling my Classic Crack warm up, and wasn’t sure I was fully recovered from bouldering the prior weekend, so was pretty nervous to pull too hard too fast. I worked Fun House Stairway a bit, and felt progress, but have yet to finish it. The problem is hard. When I abandoned the far left side of the sloping start hold which everybody else uses, and just crimped on the edge of the hold that made all the difference in the world. I can now make the first few moves (footwork, including using heel hooks, is key for keeping your weight in) so I look forward to getting back to it again.

Cool thing about bouldering #5: It’s fun, even if you don’t finish anything.
I really felt a sense of accomplishment just making improvement on problems, even if I didn’t finish them. On the other hand,

Cool thing about bouldering #6: It’s really fun to actually finish problems.
After everybody had thrashed themselves a bit at Barney’s Rubble, we headed for the Forestland area. The approach is lovely this time of year … bright green leaves, and lots of wildflowers, lining a beautiful trail. I still wasn’t super inspired, while the guys worked some fun hard-looking problems, but didn’t want to miss an opportunity to do a more achievable problem and fired up Breadline (V0+) which was excellent with a good topout. Again, I didn’t even hesitate when I got up high… I just knew I had to finish the problem, and finished it. We moved up to the Upper Forestland area, and while the guys worked some harder stuff, I went a wandering. I fell in love at first sight with Sunny and Steep (V2). Not just because it reminds me of Red Rock, NV… it looked FUN. The start was working up rounded sidepull juggy holds (for my hand size), to get your hands up high on two pretty good sloping ledges, then feet high to push up and left to get a decent sloper; another foot adjustment, then a kind of delicate top out on slopers (it’s not identified as a highball in the guidebook, but I definitely didn’t want to come off it from up high). Colin sailed up it but found the top out a bit slopey and insecure; I watched other climbers do different top outs that looked more secure. I pondered the problem for a long time which the guys worked Funny and Cheap (V4), occasionally trying, getting to the pretty good sloping ledges (the high point where I felt safe dropping from), but then didn’t have the courage to push higher.

I finally started to get cold, and packed up, telling the guys I thought I was done for the day, and was going to head out. I slowly packed up, muttering about “coming back to it,” and “too tired,” and “don’t want to hurt myself,” then decided, screw it, I can do it, and now’s the time.

With a fantastic herd of spotters and four pads, I started up the problem which by now was preprogrammed to my high point. When I got my hands on my high point holds, I don’t remember hesitating, I just remember slapping up and left for the next (not great, kinda more slopey than I was hoping for) hold, and at some point Colin called out just the right beta (“Get your right foot high,” which I did) to basically match hands on the more-slopey-than-I-would-have-liked hold, to get my feet up and reach up for the pretty good first hold of the top out. I was a bit intimidated by the top out before I started climbing, but once I was up there I just dialed myself in, moved very slowly and deliberately, making sure to keep my weight forward so I wouldn’t pull away from the rock if a particular hold wasn’t as good as I expected, and I topped out happily and with a great feeling of accomplishment. I also had a sincere appreciation for my herd of spotters… Once I was up there, I didn’t doubt my ability to top out, but when I threw for that not-so-great sloper, I was thankful to have six hands all there to try to keep my head off the ground if I came off.

Then, I was thankful for yet another roadside cook-out, this time in the parking lot of Der Safewayhausen. Don and Peter went razor clam digging on Saturday, so Don fried and we ate more diggers than I could count, sitting on our bouldering pads in the parking lot, to mostly disapproving or unamused looks and only a few smiles and thumbs up.

I’ve got to take a bit of a break… my fingers and shoulders are pretty worked from all of it… but I’m super excited about incorporating more bouldering into my routine. I know that sometimes I will get scared when topping out, I think I’ve just been lucky to find problems that I could work through the top outs on, but I LOVE the feeling of confidence I have when I’m working through those top outs… when I know that I just can’t fall, so I have to just do it and succeed. It’s not like me to think that confidently, but at least so far, it hasn’t been forced positive self-talk… it’s just been natural confidence, which feels really unusual and great. Lizzie’s right — I do think that bouldering just might be the best training I could do for lead climbing, since if I can muster that kind of confidence and keep calm on boulders, hopefully I can do the same thing on gear and bolts.

I look forward to tasting more of Washington’s boulders this year, now that I’m excited to get out and boulder. I’m also happy to know that now I have a good eye for problems that might be fun and safe for me to work on my own, with just my bouldering pad, for solo trips or days out when my partners have their own projects.

Most of all, I’m excited to know that I can find good, challenging projects in the V1 through V3 range. You might have to hunt around a bit if you’re a sub-V3 boulderer (like me) but they’re there, and they’re fun!

Filed under: Bouldering, Leavenworth, Trip Reports

When the French say "il pleut à verse" they’re not talking wine…

I have yet to travel internationally for climbing (not counting Squamish), or anything else, for that matter (not counting Canada) — but luckily I’ve got friends to serve as scout party and inspiration for my future international adventures. When Lauren Yant tweeted that she was on her way to Fontainebleau, in part for a climbing trip, I asked if she’d be willing to write a guest post. She agreed, but then when she got back, she was discouraged because they’d had lousy weather and hadn’t gotten in as much climbing as planned. We chatted a bit, and my take is… sometimes that’s what climbing trips are. So, I’m thankful that Lauren was willing to still write, and she sent the following story and pictures.

Here is the first in what I hope will be a series of international adventure stories from my guest-posting, world-traveling friends… at least until I get my own passport again, sometime soon!

About Lauren Yant
Lauren is an outdoorswoman and marketing professional based in Salt Lake City. She’s also the style, brains, and everything else behind Ruthie Pearl, her line of funky, fantastic reusable tote bags. For more information about Lauren, connect with her on Twitter or visit RuthiePearl.com.

Special! Lauren set up a coupon code for rockclimbergirl.com readers. If you use the coupon code theclimbergirl at checkout on RuthiePearl.com, you’ll save 20%. Thank you, Lauren!

Now, here’s Lauren’s story!

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Our “climbing” trip to France started on a lazy Sunday afternoon at the Blue Plate Diner in Salt Lake City. My boyfriend, Scott, had always wanted to climb at Fontainebleu. And me? I just wanted to go to Europe. I turned to Scott while enjoying my fry sauce (THE world’s best condiment, note), and I said, “Let’s do it. Let’s book our trip to France.” That afternoon, we started searching for flights and finally settled on two tickets at just under $700 each (not a bad deal at the time).

The next few weeks were spent anticipating and planning for our trip. We found an amazing deal on a “gite” in the small town of Trezan just minutes from the climbing areas of Fontainebleu. We were to land at Charles de Gaulle, rent a car, and drive there to stay and climb for one week. After that, it was on to Paris for a week of sightseeing, eating, more eating and enjoying cheap (but delicious) wine.

Upon landing in France, it was obvious that our plans would have to change. It was raining. Not a torrential downpour–but raining. And kind of non-stop. We drove into Paris to find wi-fi and check the local forecast. Rain. Rain for the next week. And then (of course), sunshine for our week in Paris. I was quite distraught–mostly because I knew that Scott had dreamed about this trip for years. We decided to make the most of the situation and drive our car to Luxembourg…after…yes, about 20 hours of travel. We stopped at multiple rest stops on the five-hour drive and took naps. I vaguely remember the drive and our arrival in the city.

For the next three nights, we stayed in various hotels in Luxembourg for around 100-160 euros/night. Not the cheapest, but it was the best we could do on such short notice. We walked all around Luxembourg (where Scott grew up), and we even visited two castles on the countryside. The food was divine, and the scenery was equally impressive. However, I wanted to be the typical American tourist and “rack up as many countries as I could” in one visit. With that, we were off to the oldest city in Germany, Trier (just an hour’s drive from Luxembourg).

We stayed in a nice but reasonable hotel run by Days Inn. I would have preferred something more quaint, but at the rate we were going with our spending, it was the best option. For two nights, we enjoyed waffles with nutella, ancient ruins, German accents and vending machine beer. In sum, Trier was probably my favorite city.

After a relaxing couple of nights in Trier, the clouds began to melt. We decided to drive back to France to spend a couple nights in our gite and check out the boulders at Fontainebleu. The gite, just 230 euros for a week, was super. My only complaint was the shower. It had no door or curtain, and the entire floor got soaked every time I used it. Bed linens were also not included in our rent…but these things seemed relatively common throughout Europe (especially the shower thing–they have really weird showers).

The nearest “town” to Trezan was Malesherbes–so we went there the next morning to get a couple of baguettes and pastries for our day on the rocks. One of our funniest memories was the owner of the local grocery who was so proud of his “English.” Every time we would walk out of the store, he would say, “Hello!” in the same tone you would tell someone “goodbye.” He seemed so proud of his ability to speak to us that we never corrected him. We just waved, smiled, and filed it in the good memories bank.

The first day of bouldering was mellow. We went to Buthiers, and everything is put up in kind of a “circuit”–you select your level of difficulty, start on #1, and go from there to climb around 30-40 boulders in one workout. I climbed mostly on the orange circuit–probably around V1-V3. Scott worked some harder things, but the moisture on the rocks and our lack of a crash pad made for a bad combination. It should also be noted that there is a large amount of quartzite on these rocks–not a good combo with small footholds and wet shoes. (Think Horsepens slopers mixed with Ibex glass and water = no bueno.)

To elaborate on the lack of a crashpad: yes, there were places to rent pads near the climbing areas. Our decision not to get one was based 1) on the moisture present and not knowing whether we would even be able to climb and 2) our feeling that we should do as the French do…you know, just wipe off your feet and go. This was definitely bad judgment as Scott has about 60 pounds on me…and there’s no way I can even spot him. And even though the landings are generally good and sandy, there’s nothing like a day of jumping/falling down from 10 feet to make your feet excruciatingly sore for a week.

Anyway, the next day we went to a different, much better climbing area–Trois Pignons. When we set our eyes on this magical playland of boulders, we began to second-guess our decision to spend the next week in Paris. There were plenty of folks around willing to share their crashpads, and the whole scene was simply captivating. From babies to elderly men, everyone was climbing. I began to understand why Americans get so overweight–they don’t have places like this to go with their families, and where they do, they definitely don’t take advantage of it. It was on that day that I decided I wanted to move to the French countryside. And Scott, of course, was totally down with it…”as long as there’s bouldering nearby.” And bouldering nearby, there was. Everywhere.

After a sun-filled day of climbing in the 65-degreesish weather, we packed our car and somewhat sadly headed to Paris. Our climbing wasn’t over yet, though…

About three days into our French sightseeing (the Louvre, the Notre Dame, the Seine, etc. etc. etc.), we were walking down a crowded street near the Bastille when a curious thing happened. “Salt Lake City! Salt Lake City!” I heard someone yell. I turned to see several familiar faces sitting at a cafe enjoying coffee and a couple smokes. It was some of our climber friends from The Front (an amazing bouldering gym in SLC). We chatted for a while and learned that they had another week or two of climbing and were staying near our original location in Melun. So a couple days later, Scott and I took a train there to get in another day of climbing.

Our third and final day of climbing was somewhat windy and cold…but at the same time, I think it sort of made my trip. I almost finished a problem that I didn’t even consider to be within my range (maybe a V4-V5), and we met some wildly interesting people from around the world. Perhaps my favorite was the 70+-year-old guy in the biker shorts (with a hole in the crotch, no less) who was climbing harder than anyone else there. I also loved the large number of kids who could barely walk that were running around in climbing shoes. When these folks do it, they REALLY do it.

We drove back to Paris and finished our trip with some relaxing days visiting the Eiffel Tower, taking the train to Versailles, and climbing the 300 steps to the top of the Sacre Coeur. But the weird climbing coincidences weren’t over just yet…

On the train back to the airport to catch our departing flight, we overheard the people sitting next to us talking about their flight to SLC. They were clearly American (as they had their new scarves and berets in tow), and maybe even from Salt Lake. I thought it curious that of all the trains headed to Charles de Gaulle out of France, we would be on the same one. But then, when we got off the train, we saw two more of our friends from The Front. It turns out that we were sitting next to their parents the whole time, and almost their entire family was in the train car with us.

So…an amazing trip. Good bouldering, good food, good wine and good friends. And The Front? Turns out it bring a lot of people together. I guess it’s a climbing thing–it truly is a small world, isn’t it?

Bottom line: Fontainbleu. Highly recommended. Sort of a cross between Horsepens and Ibex with a French accent. The weather could have been better for us, but we’ll be back again–probably more than once.

Filed under: Guest Posts, Trip Reports

Red Rock Trip Report March 2009, part 3: Eagle Dance

Finally, here’s the detail on the epic day of the trip. As alluded to in earlier posts, our day on Eagle Dance didn’t go without its hitches. Shawn and I had planned the trip hoping to do at least three big, long, traditional classics: I wanted to do Johnny Vegas and Solar Slab; and his ticklist was Eagle Dance (on Eagle Wall, in Oak Creek Canyon) and Epinephrine (in Black Velvet Canyon).

We crossed my objective, Johnny Vegas and Solar Slab, off on Friday with KT and Smitty. Taking the Painted Bowl descent instead of rapping off Solar Slab allowed us to get a really good look at Eagle Wall, as well as to drop gear near the base so that we could make a faster, lighter approach for Eagle Dance.

Here are a few links for additional Eagle Dance information:

• SuperTopo’s Eagle Dance page
• Mountain Project’s Eagle Dance page, with lots of pictures
• RockClimbing.com’s Eagle Dance page

Eagle Dance goes at about 10 pitches of 5.10c / A0 (the aid section is a closely bolted ladder through an overhung, traversing section on approximately pitch 6). The route is mostly 5.10 climbing, with two reported pitches of 5.10c.

This was an ambitious undertaking for Shawn and I, given that I only have a few 10c and harder pitches under my belt, and given that we knew we’d be up against the clock to try to get down before sunset. It was also ambitious given that we’d just done Johnny Vegas and Solar Slab (10 or 12 pitches of climbing) the day before, with a long hike in and out both days. But, when Shawn knocked on my door at 4:45 on Saturday morning and asked if I was in, I grumbled an unpleasant animal noise of pain then jumped up and said “Yup, I’m in.”

Smitty dropped us off at the Oak Creek Trailhead outside the loop, since the loop road hadn’t yet opened (I think we hit the trailhead right about 5:30am). We had a beautiful, peaceful approach, light and fast since we were basically only carrying food, water and my little bag of emergency gear having stashed the ropes and racks near the base of Eagle Wall on our descent from Solar Slab. Use that approach at your own risk, of course, but it worked well for us this trip. It was also extra motivation to actually get up and get out of bed that morning, knowing we’d have to get our gear back sometime and we’d only hurt worse on Sunday!

What I knew of Eagle Dance came from a variety of sources. My local friend, John, had indicated that our ticklist was “ambitious,” and he’d mentioned that he’d climbed the first four pitches of Eagle Dance and wanted to get back to it.

I heard from a number of sources that the pitches above the bolt latter were very hard. During my last trip to Joshua Tree, I’d overheard one of the staffers at the gear shop talk about how incredibly difficult the section above the bolt latter (pitches 6 and 7) were, so I expected the top of the route to be “5.10c My Ass” rather than just 5.10c. I’ve climbed a few pitches between 5.10c and 11a so I figured even if it wasn’t pretty, I’d be able to make it up in relatively good time. I also reviewed (but, didn’t practice) my aid technique.

We opted to carry a second rope, so we climbed on my 70 meter BlueWater 9.7, and Shawn trailed his 9.8 rope. I’d heard that we could rap the route on a single 70 meter, but hadn’t seen that across sources, so we erred on the side of two ropes. Shawn (at least, what he told me) didn’t find the trail line to be a problem even while leading, and it proved handy over the course of the day for passing the pack back and forth and cold belays (e.g. one in particular when Shawn hit the bolted belay and I knew he’d be freezing, so sent the pack up the haul line with his jacket).

We went fast and light — we carried one small pack with water, food, our two headlamps plus my Petzl e-lite backup headlamp, a warm layer for Shawn and my puffy for me. I brought my point and shoot camera, but took approximately two pictures, so that’s a bit of a bummer. I think some in our party took pictures of Eagle Wall during our Solar Slab Painted Bowl descent, so if any of those come my way I’ll add them when I get them.

We left our packs at the base of the climb, containing some additional food, first aid items, approach shoes and socks, and my 2-person emergency bivy (JUST in case) and started a-climbing.

The first few pitches were hands down, just plain fun. Granted, I was cleaning, so anything’s fun when you’re cleaning — but Shawn had fun on lead, too. The plan was for him to lead, with the possibility of me perhaps taking one of the easier bolted pitches, if conditions looked good for it — but fast was the M.O., and I’m not necessarily fast on lead, so I didn’t have my heart set on leading anything. I don’t remember anything really specific about the first four pitches… just that they were FUN. Some of the belays were hanging and/or uncomfortable, but the climbing was just so much freaking fun, and the reported “10c crux” shown in one of our topos lower on the route wasn’t really distinguishable from the 5.10 climbing around it. In other words, the first four pitches were fun, confidence inspiring, and we made great time. The belays weren’t all ideal, but that’s life.

Shawn lead up the bolt ladder pitch like an absolute pro. Watching him go, I rehearsed my own technique in my head, and felt pretty confident about my ability to execute the aid sequence and get up that pitch.

Until, that is, I had to actually *do* it.

What had been a well-oiled, smooth sequence in my head, turned into a total cluster in execution. For one thing, I had an autolocker on my long anchor, which didn’t help at all. Next time I’ll use a regular twistlock, instead. Trying to hold the autolocker open, and make clips, was an unnecessary challenge; a twistlock would have eliminated that difficulty. For another, I just needed to have practiced before trying something like that high up, tired, as part of a very long, time-sensitive day. Shawn was over the top patient with my slow progress despite being on an uncomfortable and cold belay, and helped me refine my system and get smoother toward the top of the ladder with his encouragement and coaching, but what he made look so easy I found incredibly hard even when I got the sequence down. Before I take on the Pioneer Route at Monkey Face, another climb I’m considering for this year, I’ll be figuring out how to practice aiding bolt ladders until it’s much smoother and more efficient.

After the bolt ladder, I was pretty well exhausted. Shawn set off on lead, in a bit of a hurry since the belays had been cold and uncomfortable, among other things. We moved briskly up the last few pitches.

The pitch above the bolt ladder was extremely hard, even as second. I didn’t aid, but I did fall several times, and did take once or twice to clean gear (so, actually, that sounds a lot like aiding). I found the feet poor, the hands challenging, and the rock quality much more suspect than on the earlier pitches, requiring delicate hand and foot placements.

I was pretty well knackered at that point, but we somehow managed to make reasonably good time up the final pitches of the route. I’m sure they were fantastic — Shawn seemed to think they were — they just felt HARD to me at that point. Hard, and serious. The descriptions I’d read — that the climbing got serious at the bolt ladder — were spot on. Eagle Wall is a big wall, and that was a big climb — the biggest, hardest I’d tried. When we hit the final bolted belay, despite both of us being the type who likes to reach the very top for a summit, it was late enough in the day, and were were tired enough, that we didn’t even discuss doing the hike up to the summit. We had a snack, drank some water, and started rigging ropes for our rappel off the route.

I don’t know exactly what time it was when we rigged our first rap, but it wasn’t super late. My instincts were that we had enough daylight to get down through the raps, and get most of the way down the slabs before sunset if we moved efficiently.

The details here get a wee bit fuzzy, but I’ll hit the high points.

On our first rap, we set up a two rope rap with knots in both ends, and one of the ropes promptly got stuck STUCK. After resolving that issue, we rigged our second rap, and we both rapped down to our destination bolted anchor (a fairly long rap, but not near the end of 60 meters, and started to pull the ropes — this time, the ropes had twisted RIDICULOUSLY, making pulling the ropes impossible. We tried untwisting the ropes from our belay location, to no avail. After trying to unstick the ropes for some time, with me trying to figure out just how on earth one of us (meaning, most likely, Shawn) would re-lead that pitch (or pitches) to free the rope, with how tired we both were and the waning daylight, the solution was to ascend the rope using his ATC to lock off, and then free the rope. I don’t know where he found the energy, but Shawn did just that… he ascended the rope (at least a pitch – it may have been more, since he went out of my line of sight) to anchor in and then untwist the ropes and free them.

He successfully unstuck the ropes, rapped back down, and then from there we were extremely careful to not allow the ropes to twist, and also both switched to rapping on our low-friction modes (we were both on ATC-XP like devices) which significantly reduced the rope curl. We also did shorter raps, from there, and got down with relatively little incident from there despite a few small rope hang-ups.

The last two raps were by headlamp, but we were both relieved to get down, since the rappels had been more serious than anticipated. We quickly put on our approach shoes and polished off some water and a snack, backpacked the ropes and headed carefully down the steep slabs back to the trail. I was thankful we’d done the descent the night before at dusk, since those slabs would have been pretty scary doing them for the first time in the dark. With each step (finish the raps; getting down the slabs) we got happier and less stressed. When we hit the base of the slabs, and just had two and a half or so hours of boulder hopping and a half hour of good trail ahead of us, the mood was practically light. Usually boulder hopping is pretty hard on me — that night, boulder hopping felt incredibly easy compared to slippery and loose slabs by headlamp, and, the prospect of spending a night shivering on a ledge halfway up Eagle Wall.

We were able to get a text message out to Smitty and KT at about 7pm from the base of the slabs to let them know we were okay, and would be ready for a pickup about 10pm. Sure enough, we reached the car right about 10pm, devoured the water bottles Smitty and KT were so thoughtful to bring us, and grabbed dinner on the way home. Smitty and KT wanted to hear the story, but Shawn and I were both just so exhausted… about all we could manage was that the day had been really serious, and really great… and really fun now that it was over and we’d made it safely to the car.

Things I learned…
When more than one source says that something turns serious at a consistent point (e.g., the beta that this route got HARD or serious after the bolt ladder) pay that heed. I had a few really nervous days before Eagle Dance, wondering if I’d be able to do it — wondering if I was the best available partner choice for Shawn to meet that objective — on the up side, we did it. On the down side, I wasn’t as fast as I could have been, which contributed to us running out of daylight. If I had it to do over again, I’d still go — but maybe even with an earlier alpine start, and, I’d have more practice on bolt ladders under my belt.

Next, rope management on rappel is not optional. I’m always very careful to not allow the rope to flip or twist on rap … even with that care, that twistied and stuck rope was an eye opener. Had it been me and another partner out there, it would have taken me at least twice as long to ascend that rope as it did Shawn, if not longer. Paying very, very close to rappel setup, keeping the ropes managed as best as possible on rappel, and even doing shorter raps if the terrain allows might have eliminated some of the epic aspects of our raps off.

I did spend a fair amount of the day marveling over the level of discomfort we subject ourselves to, willingly, as climbers. My feet were killing me before I even put them in my approach shoes that morning, as were my knees. About three pitches from the top, Shawn cut open a cuticle, and I poked through to bleeding on three of my fingertips. The belays … well … uncomfortable might be an understatement. Some of them were just plain painful. Our descent got cold, even though we were prepared for it with layers.

But, I’d do it all over again, given the chance.

Some things went very well, given the seriousness and difficulty of the route. We made relatively good time up the route, all things considered. Our approach was smooth and fast, and we found our stashed gear quickly. The first four pitches really were just plain fun. And, even when we ran into hiccups, we worked together (though no question, Shawn carried more of the burden) and stayed positive and constructive, even under stress.

I do think I’ll enjoy some practice closer to the ground, in less remote locations, before taking on something that big and serious again. It was a fantastic adventure, I’m thankful that Shawn was up for it, very thankful for him getting us down safely, and I look forward to going back when I’m a bit stronger and more experienced so that I can share the leading burden the next time around.

Car door to car door was about sixteen and a half hours, I think. After that, we were happy for a relatively light day the next day, and we didn’t get a weather window for our other long objective. Epinephrine will have to wait for another trip.

Filed under: Epics, Red Rocks, Trip Reports

Red Rock Trip Report March 2009, part 2: Johnny Vegas and Solar Slab

As promised, here’s some more detail on our two long days in Oak Creek Canyon during the recent Red Rock adventure. No new photos yet, so only a little bit of eye candy on this post. You’ll find additional eye candy, and more information about our trip here and here. Thanks to Shawn and KT and Smitty for letting me use any of these photos, since I can’t remember/can’t tell who took which.

First up, our long day on Solar Slab in Oak Creek Canyon, at Red Rock.

One of my wishes for this year was to lead the whole of Solar Slab, in Oak Creek Canyon. It was a bit ambitious, given that I’ve only got about a solid year of trad leading under my belt, and much of that has been two steps forward one step back. I’d also had an unsuccessful attempt on the Solar Slab Gully during my first Red Rock trip… so the place had some memories attached to it.

After reading a bunch of trip reports, and getting some tips from Luke at DreaminVertical and my Vegas local buddy John, I felt ready to make that goal part of my trip this March. We divvied up partners and gear (Shawn and KT teamed up, and I was lucky enough to have this smiling face as my partner for the day)

my buddy, Smitty. I’d be on lead all day, and I was excited about that challenge. From what I’d read and heard, the climbing wouldn’t be terribly difficult, but leading is still a head game for me, so I knew it would be a long, hard day mentally even if physically the climbing was easy. Shawn loaned me doubles in mid-size Camalots, since I don’t yet have a full rack myself — of my own gear, I had with me singles in Black Diamond Camalots from purple to blue; three mid-range Metolius Master Cams; two sets of nuts (one set of DMM Wall nuts; one set of Black Diamond stoppers); and a handful of slings, biners, lockers, and quickdraws. Shawn and KT set off in the lead, and once they were on their way, I headed up the route. As I started the first pitch, a friendly voice from around to the left gave friendly and helpful advice… I thought it had to be John — he and climbing partner Matt were on Beulah’s Book, calling out helpful encouragement and support to get me off the ground. Only fitting to meet a “climbing friend from the Internet” for the first time in real life one pitch up in Oak Creek Canyon.

Johnny Vegas was just, plain, fun, the whole way up. I’d heard ratings from 5.6 R to 5.7, and I’ve seen descriptions of three and four pitches. My recollection is that we did it in four pitches, and that we did a 5.9 variation on one of the pitches (but the day is a wee bit of a blur, and I don’t have the guidebook myself, so I can’t say for sure). The only climbing that felt hard was the 5.9 variation we took — it was one move for the taller folks, two or three moves for us shorter folks — but it was well-protected (I downclimbed to put in extra gear when I sensed a difficult/cruxy move coming on) and then protected by one bolt once you executed the crux move. We took a variation at the top (the reported “best pitch” is a 5.9 variation to the right; I, by mistake, took an off route easy variation to the left) so I’m a bit bummed I missed that pitch, especially since the rope drag was pretty terrible on the variation I did take, but that’s life.

Overall, the belay ledges were comfortable, the bolted anchors confidence inspiring, the pro was reasonable for the grade, and I had a blast (and so did Smitty).

We kept the speed up on our changeovers pretty well, despite being a newer climbing team together and despite this being my first really big route as a leader. We were right on KT and Shawn’s heels leaving the ledge to start Solar Slab, and its 7-ish pitches going at 5.6 climbing.

Despite being “easier” on paper, the fatigue of that much time on lead caught up with me a bit on Solar Slab. Those pitches really run together… I remember a few pitches feeling extremely run out, although they were on really easy terrain. I know I was placing gear, since I’d wind up with an empty rack by the time I reached each bolted anchor — but it sometimes didn’t feel like I had enough gear for the pitches. Smitty was awesome, though — he stayed positive even when his energy started to drop, and although our changeovers slowed a bit by the last few pitches, we still made reasonable time given everything. KT and Shawn left us in the dust about three pitches from the top of Solar Slab, but that we’d kept up with them that long made me feel pretty good.

I had a little routefinding issue toward the end… Our plan was for both parties to stick together, since he had the topo and was in the lead; I had the topo *just about* memorized, but things got a bit foggy for me there at the top. Next time, I’ll be sure to have my own topo in my pocket, no matter what. Anyway – toward the top, I saw Shawn skip a belay on what seemed to be a very short pitch, so I did the same (I was climbing on a 70 meter, he on a 60 meter, so I felt confident at that point in skipping the belay). I mistakenly cruised right past the one-bolt anchor that I should have used to belay (with additional gear for a proper anchor), and kept climbing. For a long, long time. I finally reached a ledge, with a great, well-seated boulder, and figured I had to be just about out of rope even on my 70 meter. I had one yellow Camalot left on my rack, so I braced myself behind the boulder for Smitty’s belay, with a well-placed yellow Camalot for an acceptable but not optimal anchor. I called as loud as I could, but guessed that Smitty couldn’t hear me. I put him on belay, and started tugging up rope until I could tell he was climbing, and belayed him up.

When he got up to the ledge, we lost some time. Our changeover wasn’t super fast, and I wasn’t exactly sure where to go from there since Shawn and KT had already topped out. It looked like slabby, easy terrain up to a steep chimney / crack finish. I backed up the anchor with gear Smitty had cleaned, and went back on belay. Just above and to the right of where I’d anchored was a set of bolted anchors, but in chatting with Smitty later, my instincts were right to belay where I had since I was very nearly to the end of my 70 meter rope. I don’t believe I would have had enough rope to reach that bolted belay, and while I’m comfortable simulclimbing in some settings, that would not have been one of them.

I climbed the easy slabs up to the impressive left-leaning dihedral. I climbed that, placing gear as I went, to a very short (fun) chimney section, then popped out on top. Shawn met me there to help me belay Smitty up. We had time for a quick high five and to change into our approach shoes to head back down since we’d planned the Painted Bowl descent rather than rapping off. KT and Shawn had a bit of a wait for us at the top because of my routefinding issues at the end, so they were chilly, windblown and ready to rock and roll off of there.

Lessons learned…

I need to accumulate more slings (I ran out on every single pitch, leading to some really remarkable rope drag in places), and I’m happiest and most comfortable climbing with a full double rack including small cams (which I was very, very light on for this trip). The parts of the climbing that I felt could have been better protected would have easily protected with C3s or TCUs.

I also need to have my own topo and descent information, in my pocket, no matter what, when I’m leading multipitch routes. Had something happened, I would have gotten Smitty and I up that route no problem, even without the routefinding coaching from Shawn. I would have been utterly lost at the top, though, without my own descent beta. Even climbing with other parties, I need to be responsible for my own ascent and descent beta, just in case.

On the other hand, and perhaps most importantly, I learned that I *can* do it. I can lead on gear, and I can lead big, tall, multipitch routes on gear. At no point during the day did I chicken out, or did my head go negative. I just knew that for that day, I was responsible for keeping myself and Smitty as safe as possible; making the best possible choices to do so; and for getting us up and down that route safely. It was a bit of pressure, but it was so much fun, and Smitty was so much fun, that it wasn’t too heady.

There were a few sections of the runout climbing where I had to channel Steph Davis and stay calm and flow, and push any fear out of my brain since I did feel (even though I was only on 5.6) like I was soloing. Any potentially scary parts, I knew wouldn’t last long, and that there would be good pro or a nice bolted anchor coming up in just a little bit. I smiled and sang my way up much of the route, and really, stayed much more relaxed than I usually do on lead…. I think, in part, because I had no real choice.

All in all, it was an unbelievably memorable day. I learned a lot, I had a great time, Smitty had a great time, and we did the best we could all day. I appreciated Shawn and KT’s patience, despite unpleasant conditions at the top, and appreciated Smitty’s positive attitude and pack-mule willingness, since he did the bulk of the hauling for the approach and hike out.

We hit the trail head about 6:30 in the morning (we parked outside of the loop, so that we didn’t have to bother with a late exit pass). We reached the car, after a trailfinding mishap on the way out which lead us to the Oak Creek parking area (inside the loop) at about 8pm, I think, for a car door to car door time of 13.5 hours. Had we made the right trail on the way out, we probably would have shaved a half hour to 45 minutes off that. For the length of the approach and having done the Painted Bowl descent, and, the length of the climbing day, that was pretty respectable time-wise. We were down and off the slabs into the boulder-hopping by the time it got dark, so the trip out really wasn’t bad even by headlamp and moonlight.

That day will go down as one of my proudest ever, despite the fact that there are many things I could do better. I’m thankful for the experience, and for the fun we had, as well as for the safe ascent and descent.

Filed under: Red Rocks, Trip Reports

Red Rock trip report March 2009, part one

Wow.

I’ve been back from Red Rock, NV for days, and this is my first chance to sit down and start typing… I’m going to do the trip report in pieces so that it doesn’t turn into a novel (who am I kidding, they’re always novels). Some of the days merit posts of their very own, so this will serve as an appetizer, so to speak, and then you can stay tuned for the next course to come next week. More photos are also to come… the ones here are from my point and shoot; Shawn shot some film, so if we’re lucky he got a few good ones that I’ll add when he gets them to me. I also just got links to KT’s point-and-shoot shots by her and Shawn, and they are INCREDIBLE so I’ll add them in a separate post in a few minutes, for 100% eye candy.

The herd
The crew for this trip was me, Chris “Smitty” Smith, Shawn, Katie “KT,” or “K-dizzle” Trembly, and late arrivers Don and Colin. Only, Don and Colin missed their flight, and had logistical issues rescheduling, so they never made it. Also on the ground in Vegas were a ton of friends… Jenn and Jeremy Fields, John Wilder (aka VegasTradGuy at rockclimbing.com), Laurelfan and her crew, my readheads Kari and Kellie, and (whew, this is a long list to type!) my buddy Jonah and his large herd of climbers. Pretty much, it sounded like most of the Washington climbing community was there, since we also heard tell of herds from Stone Gardens and met folks from Spokane.

Logistics
We flew, this time… we opted to check our gear and carry on as little as possible. Southwest was pretty much a breeze, and the trip down went smoothly. We got to Las Vegas late at night, and on our way through the rental car pavilion noticed the place was practically empty, until we got to Hertz, where we had a reservation. The line was enormous (and very crabby looking). Smitty and I stood (or, rather, I sat on the floor while Smitty stood) in line, while KT and Shawn sat with the bags. The line went surprisingly fast, and then just as I’d hoped, by the time our number was called they were out of compact cars (what we’d reserved) so they upgraded us to a sweet Ford Escape. Totally awesome.

We headed on (taking a rather scenic route) to our reserved condo. We’d planned to camp, originally, but when the herd grew to the size it did, we figured a condo might be economical and a bit more comfortable, though Shawn was skeptical about our ability to get out of comfy beds in the morning as opposed to bivy sacks. Ultimately, Smitty and I won and we booked a 1 bedroom condo at the Cliffs at Peace Canyon through Expedia.com for a whopping $55 a night. I am now, officially, spoiled on climbing trip logistics. The Cliffs condo was BEAUTIFUL, clean, and well-equipped (great kitchen, laundry, bathroom, fold out sofas in the living room, comfy bed in the bedroom, and a perfect-for-me-sized walk-in closet where I set up “camp” with three sofa cushions and my sleeping bag. I haven’t slept that well in years… it was like living in an isolation chamber or something. The pool and spa were clean and nice, there were BBQ grills out back that we didn’t get a chance to use, and the staff were super friendly and nice. The Cliffs will be my home away from home in Vegas, especially if they keep up the incredible room rates.

The climbing
Originally, Shawn and I had planned objectives just for us… when other folks bought their tickets, we tried to adjust and be flexible with our plans while still getting done what we’d bought our own tickets to do. My primary objective was to lead, ground-up, Johnny Vegas and Solar Slab in Oak Creek Canyon; his objectives were Eagle Dance in Oak Creek Canyon and Epinephrine in Black Velvet Canyon. All are super classic long traditional routes. We also planned a day or two of cragging, for a nice full trip. Vegas John had labeled our ticklist “ambitious.”

I’ll do detailed day-reports for Solar Slab and Eagle Dance next week, but here’s the short version…

Friday
Friday, after about three hours of sleep, the alarm clock went off for our departure to Oak Creek Canyon. I lead Smitty up Johnny Vegas and Solar Slab (and it was AWESOME, breathtaking, and felt like an enormous achievement… plus, Smitty is one of the best climbing partners ever, so it was fun and positive from the ground up). Eleven or twelve pitches of 5.6/7 with a 5.9 variation thrown in for variety, with bolted anchors for all but a couple of belays… the climbing was mostly easy, but the pro proved challenging in places, and parts of the routes were “Welcome to Runout Rocks.” Shawn and KT beat us to the top by a long shot (KT leading her first gear pitch, complete with about one piece of pro), but were kind enough to wait and coach me up the finish. Smitty was an absolute champ. The whole way up, this was the look on his face:

and I could literally feel him cheering me on, through the rope.

While the climbing’s easy, the hike in and out isn’t — we topped out and did the Eagle Dance / Black Orpheus descent so that we could drop gear for Eagle Dance on Saturday… then got down to the base of the death slabs right before dark for a headlamp hike out.

During the hike out, Shawn and I briefly discussed maybe taking a Saturday rest day and then doing Eagle Dance on Sunday instead. My crummy knees nodded “yes!” to that plan with every step… we devoured something for dinner (can’t recall what) then crashed hard to get some good sleep.

Saturday
I was startled awake at about 4:45am on Saturday morning by Shawn knocking on the isolation chamber door with an, “Are you in?” I felt the stabby pain in my knees, and recalled that epic approach, descent and headlamp hike out, and growled an animal sound of unpleasantness and pain before saying, “I’m up, I’m up, I’m in” and getting out of bed.

Contacts in, quick cup of coffee consumed, two aleve popped, and we were off. Again, Saturday merits its own blog post, so the details will come next week. The short version… we left the car about 5:30am, and Smitty picked us up at 10:00pm. The day was a mini epic. The hike in went fast without packs; the scramble up to the start was smooth and fun. We had beautiful weather and were in good spirits despite aches and pains. The climbing on the lower pitches was absolutely stunning, beautiful, fun. The upper pitches were, as I’d read and been told, serious and much harder than the lower cruxes (and I don’t think that was all due to exhaustion). We finished the last pitch a bit ahead of schedule so stopped for a bite and some water and to stretch out our feet, then prepped our first two-rope rap and headed down.

That’s where the epic started.

The whole story will follow… but let’s just say… our last two raps were by headlamp, with the descent of the death slabs by headlamp and moon light. Eagle Dance was the most serious climbing day I’ve ever had. We were, at all times, safe — but were it not for Shawn’s experience, knowledge, and ability to pull strength out of nowhere when we were both totally exhausted with the sun dropping, we might have had a sub-30-degree night out on a hanging belay on Eagle Wall.

By the time we reached the base of the route, we were happy to be down. By the time we reached the bottom of the death slabs, we were actually excited about the “easy by comparison” two and a half hours of boulder hopping ahead of us on the way out. When we got word to KT and Smitty via txt from the base of the death slabs that we were down and ready for a pickup in a few hours, we felt even better. When we hit the car at 10pm, we were too tired to even be giddy about the day.

It was an incredible, amazing, fantastic day. I’m incredibly thankful to Shawn for getting us both up that route and down safely. And while I look forward to traditional multipitch adventures to come, I think I’ll take a few baby steps before I get back on anything that serious again.

Sunday
Sunday was mostly a rest day for me… I had four split tips and was pretty sore and tired from the first two days, so I was happy to just have some time in the beautiful weather and on belay. We headed out to Calico Basin, for KT and Shawn to play on Caustic, and, to meet up with Kari and Kellie and their crew for a visit. That night, we met up with Jenn and Jeremy and John for dinner at BJ’s on Charleston, JUST missing Jonah and his crew who’d headed on to the airport. BJ’s is very climber-friendly, had great beer and an incredible post-climb menu, and will be a frequent dinner stop for me when I’m in Vegas.

Monday
We got a bit of extra sleep, then woke up to windy and sunny conditions. Shawn and I had originally planned Epinephrine for Monday, but I think we both needed a break from long multipitch after Eagle Dance, and, we had to be able to get Smitty and KT to the airport that night so needed a more predictable schedule. Plus, conditions weren’t perfect for Epi. We figured we’d head for the loop road, since KT hadn’t yet gotten to see it, and try to find something sunny and warm and relatively sheltered.

What would a trip to Red Rock be without a visit to the scenic, beautiful, fun, photogenic Panty Wall?

Here’s the view from the ledge:

From the first pullout parking area it looked a bit crowded but not too bad, and we headed up. Sure enough, it started out windy, cold, and crowded… but as the day went on, parties cleared out and conditions improved for an absolutely fantastic day.

We started on Panty Prow, for Smitty’s first lead in some time (he ROCKED it), and then I shoe-d up for my turn. When I put on my left climbing shoe, all sorts of horrible, naughty words came out of my mouth — my big toe was Not Happy. I climbed the route, cursing like a sailor every few steps, then asked for a fast lower so I could get out of my climbing shoes as fast as possible.

Over to the left of us, a Salt Lake City party was working the hard slabby routes… Lisa, from SLC was on while I was climbing the prow, and let’s just say her language was equally, um, not ladylike. We dubbed it Potty Mouthed Girls day at Panty Wall, and just kept climbing. I did a lot of belay duty, and it was super fun.

The guys cruised a bunch of the moderate bolted routes on the front side of the wall, including some more great leads by Smitty. KT and I had a date with Totally Clips, a route I’d tried the first time I came to Red Rock.

That’s Shawn on lead. Shawn put up the toprope, and I can’t remember if KT toproped it once or just pulled the rope and got on, on lead. KT worked it on lead, sending on her second lead attempt; I fell on my first toprope attempt, then after a rest got back on and the minute I touched rock felt like that wasn’t going to be the go — after a snack, a drink, and a pee break I got back on and *had* to send since Shawn (for the first time ever) picked up his camera and started shooting even though I was on toprope (he shoots film, so reserves his film for lead climbing). It felt AWESOME to cruise up that route, at a grade that I always thought would be entirely out of my reach. It wasn’t easy — the crux is just a few moves, but they take hang-on — but it felt strong, solid, and now I’m super excited to go back and get on it on lead next time I get a Panty Wall day. Here’s one of my all-time-favorite shots, snapped by Smitty while I was belaying KT on her first lead attempt:

Nicely done, Smitty (and, KT).

Shawn wrapped it up with a few more climbs at the end of the day, so now I think he may have climbed everything on Panty Wall (?). The hike out was lovely, the light quality so good I managed some decent shots even with my little point and shoot, like this one looking back up at Panty Wall from the trail:

We headed out, back to BJ’s for another great meal, and then Shawn and I dropped KT and Smitty reluctantly at the airport before getting back to the condo ourselves and crashing so hard and so fast we hadn’t planned our next day beyond maybe cragging out at Black Velvet.

Tuesday
We got a little extra sleep, then woke up to a stunning, beautiful, sunny, wind-free day in Vegas. It would have been a perfect day for a nice, long objective, but since we had to catch a flight that night, we had to keep it closer to the ground. We turned the rental rig toward Black Velvet Canyon, sights set on Arrow Place, a three pitch route on Burlap Buttress. This was my first trip out to Black Velvet Canyon, and it was breathtakingly beautiful. Here’s a view of Black Velvet wall to the left, and Burlap Buttress to the right.

The hike in was one of the prettiest I’ve done, and the climb itself was fantastic. I have a hard time on the last day of trips… my head isn’t in a great place for climbing. I’ve developed a pattern I need to break, where I pick an objective, do the approach, look up at the climb, and completely chicken out and call it a “scouting day” instead of climbing. A similar thing happened this time… we planned for Shawn to lead the first (crux) pitch then for me to lead the second… but when it came time to take the sharp end I couldn’t pull myself together to do it, so Shawn stayed in the lead. The route was surprisingly fun and high quality… lots of stemming, great holds, and a section on the second pitch of just stellar, red camalot sized hand crack that you wished went on forever. We climbed efficiently and made great time, then had uneventful raps down to the base and yet another beautiful walk out, stopping to take lots of pictures. Here’s one from one of the belay ledges on the route.

We headed for the airport, planning a teriyaki stop on the way, but had no luck finding a teriyaki joint (note to self, ask Vegas locals where to get teriyaki before I come back down)… so wound up with IHOP instead. The flights home were relatively peaceful and we both napped quite a bit, then made it home to Kitsap after a little airport pickup hiccup a few hours before we each had to be at work in the morning.

Reflections
As usual, I had a blast. The trip was great, the climbing ranged from just-plain-fun to serious and eye-opening. I enjoy traditional multipitch climbing because I do my best thinking when I’m high up, on a route, looking down on tree tops and birds flying beneath me. And, this trip was no exception. I had a few multipitch epiphanies that I’m still processing — stay tuned for more on that. The re-entry hasn’t been smooth — coming back to work is always just so strange, and this week was especially busy. My finger splitters are healing nicely, and I’d hoped for an eastern Washington trip this weekend, but the weather looks like it has other plans in mind.

I’m excited to get back out to Black Velvet Canyon; it was one of the most beautiful places I’ve seen, and the rock and routes looked awesome. I’m also excited to get back on bolts — after all of the runout gear climbing I did this trip, nicely bolted sport routes sound like a ton of fun. I also hope to keep up my weighted pack training, since I got in shape FAST on these approaches (I do believe my legs are an inch bigger around than when I left) so I hope to hold on to that conditioning, too.

Finally, after Johnny Vegas and Solar Slab, I think I’m ready for leading up Outer Space at Leavenworth, a route I seconded (and lead one pitch on) last year. I’m super excited about getting out there, and, doing more single pitch gear climbing at Leavenworth and Squamish, to continue to build my gear skills. I finally feel pretty solid on my gear placements, and I’m getting more efficient and having a lot of fun gear climbing.

So, all in all, it was another absolute blessing of a climbing trip, with good friends, good partners, great routes, new friends, good food, a comfy place to stay, and really lovely weather. KT, Smitty and Shawn are awesome climbing partners… our trip was drama free and fun, and we were all pretty blissed out most of the time.

A girl just can’t complain about living a life this happy.

Filed under: Climbing Photos, 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