Little did I know...

We went, we saw, we didn't climb

2011-10-04T10:28:00.001-07:00

That's Bear Creek Spire on the upper right., a photo by slampoud on Flickr.

Ben and I decided we wanted to attempt Bear Creek Spire. We both have the High Sierra Climbing supertopo, and we both looked at it and decided that we liked the idea of a destination that had two alternatives from which to choose: the 5.8 North Arete, and the low 5th class Northeast Ridge.

We had been planning to go about a month ago, but ended up going to Courtright Reservoir instead, because we couldn't get permits for overnight stay at the Little Lakes trailhead. Last week looked like the last opportunity of unequivocally good weather in the Sierras (this week the storms begin), so we headed out there mid-week to attempt our objective.

For me this trip came a week after spending a week at Banff National Park, so I was still somewhat acclimated to higher elevations. Ben was coming straight from sea level. I was essentially taking a long weekend in the middle of the week, so we had to do the whole trip in three days, including the getting there and back.

We took off Tuesday morning and got to the Little Lakes trailhead, overnight permit in hand, around 4pm. Backpacking up to Gem Lakes took a couple hours, so when we got there we decided to stop, make dinner while we still had some daylight left, and overnight there. Gem Lakes Valley is possibly the most beautiful place I've ever been, and, on top of that, the trail to continue up to Dade Lake was not obvious, so I had no objections to staying, though my legs were definitely good to go for a while longer.

The next morning we got a leisurely start, based solely on the time it took for the sun to peek over Morgan Mt. to our east, and hit our campsite. We were off and searching for a trail to Dade Lake by 9am, loaded only with climbing gear, and planning to hit the easier Ridge, instead of the arete.

It turns out that there really is no "trail" as such. We learned from the book that we should look for a steep talus slope, of which there is exactly one, so there was little ambiguity there. But nothing we had read prepared us for 2.5 hours of steep, unmarked talus to Dade Lake. Having previously had near-injuries while slogging in talus, I consider it the worst possible terrain to be in during the last part of a tired descent. I was completely demoralized by how long and hard the upward talus slog had been, by the fact that we'd have to do it again, in reverse, and super tired, possibly in the dark, at the end of our day, and, finally, by the fact that there was no way we would ever have managed this talus ascent with full backpacks the night before. It felt like we had done something definitely wrong, but we were definitely following directions right.

By the time we got to Dade Lake I was pretty sure I wasn't up for the rest of the day as we had planned it. We would next have to traverse a snow field, then more talus for over another hour, before reaching the base of the climb. Then we'd climb for 5 or so hours, then we'd have to descend by glissading down a snow gully, and slog talus for 3 more hours to get back. Given our 11:30am arrival at Dade Lake, we were looking at finishing our glissade, with three more hours to go, around nightfall.

Throughout all our preparations it had not occurred to me that what we were planning was actually a mountaineering, and not a climbing trip. The guidebook and websites we'd consulted made it sound like on some trips, some times of year, some people chose to bring snow gear (ice axes and crampons). We were in what I would consider the absolute end of the local summer and, in my non-expert opinion, snow gear was necessary. I was completely uncomfortable with the idea of crossing that snow field without traction, and of glissading down the gully without an ice axe. Couple that with the late start and lack of relevant fitness (i.e. lack of ability to go on autopilot on talus at 11,500 ft for 6 hours, and have faith that I'm not going to miss a step and land on my face, or overturn a boulder and end up with a crushed ankle, both of which I've *almost* done in the past), there was no choice, for me, at least, but to bail on the plan.

I don't know what Ben's process was, but I was pretty annoyed that I had to deal with his long and silent inner struggle. It was completely clear to me -- and it did not diminish me or my self esteem at all! -- that we had bitten off more than we could chew, and had underestimated this project.

Given that the talus ascent had been so miserable, and that we thought we couldn't do it with full backpacks, if we ever chose to return, it was time to make lemonade, and try to find a better way down (or up, for the future). We descended into Treasure Lakes Valley, then down towards Long Lake following the fishermen's path. This trail is actually mentioned in the supertopo, but not recommended, because it is supposedly longer and has more talus (!!!). It took us the same amount of time, so if it's longer it's only marginally so, and I thought it was slightly more pleasant, as far as talus goes. We paid close attention to the maps and terrain, and we think that we've found a way to get from Gem Lakes to Dade Lake by traveling cross country, following the ridge immediately East of Treasure Lakes. Since, next time around, we will be seeking to minimize our distance from Bear Creek Spire, in order to shorten the climbing day and avoid talus travel at the end of it, it will be important to get all the way to Dade Lake. So this ridge is the only option we think we can handle, with full backpacks...

We spent the rest of our day lolling about Gem Lakes, took a quick swim, made movies of trout (I call it "fishing"), and acclimating (for no reason at all). It was a beautiful and restful day, and I was really glad to be there and not epic'ing up at Bear Creek Spire. The backpack down the next day was equally beautiful. A couple days later I read of a rescue in the Tetons (apparently the third this year) of a guy who glissaded without an ice axe and ended up with broken limbs when he lost control. That made me feel a lot better about my admittedly inexpert assessment. I climb for fun, so the idea is to do it only to the extent that I can live to continue doing it uninjured.

This year's Needles expedition -- day 2, attack of the carabiner

2011-07-13T12:50:00.000-07:00

Saturday morning found us sleeping in, so we decided to forgo the hike in to the Needles and opt for the lower elevation and shorter approach of Dome Rock, on which we had an objective, the Anti-jello crack.

Anti-jello crack starts with the easy first pitch of the Tree Route. The second pitch is a 5.9+ fingers-to-tips crack, which I suspect was tips-to-nothing for Dima. He led almost all the way up it, and when the feet ran out, the crack thinned to almost nothing, and the protection got really tricky he had to hang and aid through the last bit of it. It only takes a sentence to say and justify that, but the process of making the decision and carrying it out is actually quite emotionally wrenching and time-consuming. I tried to be a good partner and give him all the time and support I could, but I never quite know whether to speak up or shut up. In any case, I was in the shade of a tree and quite comfortable. Dima finished that pitch via a right-trending variation that took us back to the Tree Route.

As for me, I think that pitch was possibly one of the best pitches I've ever climbed. The size was very suited to me. I had to stop and hang twice while cleaning nuts that were really stuck, as well as liberating a booty nut that someone had clearly used to bail on the route. Another bailing nut was fused and stayed in. During the second "take" to clean a nut I had a little accident. The draw on the piece above the one I was cleaning got jerked violently in the take, the biner at the end whipping around and fluttering and eventually taking a nice big bite out of my left bicep. It took a good chunk of flesh out, and made a giant bruise around it. It hurt a lot, but I was in the moment and didn't pay much attention. Later, at the top of the route I stopped to disinfect and bandage it.

At the top of the second pitch we switched to me leading up to the anchors of the last pitch of Tree Route, since I had the whole entire giant rack of tiny gear on me. It was fun to be, however briefly, on the sharp end. I think Dima either doesn't trust me, or is so concerned about me getting hurt and screwing up his climbing plans, that he almost never lets me lead. He certainly never asks if I want to. The silent arrangement suits me, however, as he is a lot more willing to get on harder things and flail than I am, as a leader.

The last pitch of Tree Route -- in fact the whole route -- is super fun. It's a lowish angle slab, with a single bolt in the middle, a bit like the last pitch of Angel's Fright/Fingertrip on Tahquitz, but easier. Above that are just slabs to the top. We hung out on the slabs, licking our wounded egos and arms and enjoying the incredible view. A lovely breeze had kicked up, really helping in the 80s temps and full-on sun. Eventually we walked off the rock, I took a nap, and Dima went back to the base to retrieve his gear. We finished our day with another visit to the Ponderosa, where the service sucked and the food made us both quite ill. But more about that on the next day's log...

This year's Needles expedition -- day 1

2011-07-12T21:19:00.001-07:00

Reentry from this year's expedition to the Needles, with my friend Dima from Texas, has been the hardest yet!

At the campsite

We took off midday on Thursday, arriving at Kernville in time for some lunner and a beer at the Kern River Brewing Co, as is our custom. We made it to the Needles campsite before dark, which was just as well, since the dirt road had a couple major mudholes that we had to negotiate, so sunlight was definitely a plus. The campsite was quite full, and we snagged the last available official camping spot, as far away from the folks with the television in their Sportsmobile as possible. I slept in my car, as usual. Dima pitched his Nemo tent, which is extremely entertaining to watch. A single PhD does not qualify one to pitch a Nemo tent, no siree!

On Friday we racked up, and steeled ourselves for the long approach. We got to the notch by the Witch only to find several parties already there and racking up, and a party already on the route we wanted to do, Airy Interlude. A little taken aback, and psychologically unprepared to deal with people, we decided to head for another objective of ours, a route named Spooky on the Charlatan formation. Spooky can be approached either from its base, by dropping down the notch between the Charlatan and the Djin, or by rapping the route from above. Initially we had a hard time locating the notch, and then we were put off by the allegedly 4th class chimney at the notch. Our beta said to expect rap slings at the top, but we found none, and we were not about to downclimb it, though we did see other parties who did later on in the day. (In the evening we spoke with Kris Solem, who is writing the new Needles guidebook, and he confirmed that indeed there are no rap slings, and that the chimney has gotten worse in the last couple of years since a flake broke off and a lot of soil eroded from the base making it deeper.) We set out to get to the top of the Charlatan to find the rap rings for Spooky, and finally succeeded after some time and a whole lot of scrambling. The top of that formation has to be one of the most spectacular spots on earth. There is a feeling of a whole lot of air around you that's absolutely breathtaking and incredibly intimidating at first. You do get used to it eventually, but initially it takes a real effort to walk around.

Me at the base of the second pitch of Spooky. Check out the crazy rock face!

The Charlatan is topped by a rock much like the headstone in J-Tree, but a little smaller, which has a crack on one side called the Lady of the Needles. This is rated 5.7, so we figured it would be a good warmup for the harder Spooky. It was indeed a very fun route, packing at least a couple interesting moves in no more than 40 feet of climbing. The top is very narrow, requiring the climber to either hang from the anchor or straddle it, which I thought was a hoot. The view is amazing!

The forecast had given us 15% chance of rain, and as we warmed up we watched the thunderheads slowly accumulate around us. None were too low or too close, though, so we decided to attempt Spooky. We were a little worried about the possibility of the weather getting worse in a rush, so we fixed our second line so we could bail very fast, if the need arose. We rapped the route, and started up. Dima led both pitches. The first, which goes at 5.8, was a solid hands crack for me, ending with a lieback section. It was a half a rope length long and I was loving every second of it! The second pitch, rated 5.9, starts with a 15 foot off-width, then continues up a sculpted face that looks probably like nothing you've ever climbed. Solidified waves is the closest description I can come up with. I could see that Dima was feeling rushed, and despite the fact that I had my eye on the weather and had persistently tried to take his mind off it, he wasn't paying attention to me. The off-width gave him trouble, and the demoralization from that made him uncertain in the face section of the climb. He finished the climb, but it was pretty clear that he hadn't especially enjoyed it. I couldn't figure out how to get into the off-width, so I started it as a lieback. That worked remarkably well until I got to the #4 camalot that Dima had walked up with him, about halfway up. I couldn't get that out while liebacking, so I tried to transition into the off-width, took a fall, and then thrutched around like a fish out of water for the rest of the off-width. At no point did I manage to regain any control or poise. Use it or lose it! I hadn't climbed an off-width in probably two years! After that I mostly enjoyed the face section, until I got to a spot where my way of doing it was very different from Dima's -- a common occurence -- but the way he had protected a traversing move made my way impossible to pull off. So I had to do it his way, which took a really long time to work out. No falls though! At least that was good.

My adventure mobile, bar and library in one

We finished the climb feeling a bit humbled and a little overwhelmed by the location, climbing and weather. On the hike out we stopped at the fire lookout tower and met the famous keeper, Margee, and Kris, chatted for a while, then hiked out with Kris. We had a beer and a burger at the Ponderosa Inn, not feeling quite up to cooking for ourselves, then read Ed Abbey and drank wine until we crashed.

(Pictures by Dima.)

playing in the Southern and Eastern Sierra

2011-06-29T09:15:00.001-07:00

I'd rather be there, a photo by slampoud on Flickr.

I've taken a couple cool trips recently where the highlight was Huckleberry, my 10 month old lab-boxer pup.

Huckle and I did a backpacking trip in the Southern Sierra, in which we went from the Jerkey Meadow trailhead to the bridge over the little Kern, then backed up a little and camped overnight in the woods, and back the way we came on the next day. It was a painful trip, since my knee wasn't doing well, but it also gave me a taste of how awesome backpacking with a dog is.

On the next weekend I headed up to Rock Creek with Dima. We camped at French Flat, then climbed Iris Slab on Saturday, struck camp on Sunday and headed to Pine Creek, where we climbed this new area of development called the PSOM slab. We did the first pitch of a route called Racing Lizards, but via the direct slab variation, which was stellar. Huckle was also along for this trip and provided mayhem galore: on Saturday he found a putrifying fish and brought it to me. When he threw it at me it burst against my leg, covering my pants in gore and maggots. The rest of the day was fishy. On Sunday he tried to climb 5.7 slab. Yep. Got a few feet off the ground, too, which was extremely scary to watch.

My climbing library

2011-06-28T17:39:00.000-07:00

My climbing library has grown to the point where it's almost the size of my computer science library, which I've had five times as long to accumulate. I'm a compulsive organizer, and I'll take any excuse to fondle my books, so here's a list. Let me know if you need to borrow something. Particularly the starred books are out of print or hard to find.

Guide Books:
The High Sierra: peaks, passes, trails -- R. J. Secor
Indian Creek, a climbing guide -- Bloom
Rock climbing Santa Barbara and Ventura
Rock climbing Tahquitz & Suicide Rocks
Southern California Sport Climbing
Owen's River Gorge Climbs
Bishop Area Rock Climbs
High Sierra Climbing
The trad guide to Joshua Tree
Rock climbing Joshua Tree West
Red Rocks, a climber's guide
San Diego County climbing guide
* Climbing! Santa Barbara, Ventura, SLO
Tuolumne Free climbs
Exploring the Southern Sierra: East Side
Domelands

Not guide books:
High Infatuation -- Steph Davis
Flakes, Jugs & Splitters
Climbing Free -- Lynn Hill
Beyond the Mountain -- Steve House
Climbing Self Rescue
Mountaineering: the freedom of the hills
One move too many...
The self-coached climber

A friend on twitter also brought to my attention that there is a great resource out there for climbing books and guide books: Chessler Books.

Corpse Wall

2011-04-18T08:43:00.001-07:00

So named after someone who had jumped to their death from the top was found at the base by climbers. We started on the left side, first toproping the 10a, then leading the 5 on the arete and finally toproping the 7 (?) to the right of the gash. It was OK. Lots of lichen!

reflections on a failed personal project

2011-04-13T09:27:00.000-07:00

Avid readers of this blog (both of you) might be wondering why I haven't written anything in the last couple of months, save for quickly jotting down my tick-lists for the last couple of trips I've taken. The truth is, I've been busy with things a little more exciting and engaging than the recording of adventures already complete.

I like to do some kind of big, "personal development" type project every year. Since I got out of college I've been escalating the magnitude of things I undertake in my personal life. First it was learn to sail from scratch, then buy a boat, then sail from San Francisco to Santa Barbara, then do my first race internationally etc etc. Last year the opportunity presented itself to be involved with TEDxSB, and I loved how that particular project gave back to a real audience, while at the same time allowing for personal development. So this year I've been working on two personal projects (see what I mean about escalation?), one related to sailing and one to climbing. I know this is the climbing blog, but bear with me while I tell you how my sailing project turned out. (By the way, suffice it to say that the climbing project is another one with a low probability of success, again because it's tricky to fund. But it would be awesome, and so I don't give up!).

In very early spring I learned through twitter about vacancies in a maritime research expedition on board the S/V Sea Dragon over the summer. It is being run by the same folks who are responsible for the 5Gyres project, in which the Sea Dragon trawls the oceans collecting samples of plastic pollution. In this summer project they'll be collecting various forms of data in the South Pacific, and producing all kinds of multimedia to be shared with conservation organizations (more about the expedition here). I thought that sounded incredibly cool. My pipe dream is to be the captain of a research boat, so what better way to get a millimeter closer to that dream than join these folks on the 4th leg of their expedition. I could blog about everything leading up to the expedition, blog from the boat and give presentations when I can back to Santa Barbara. I could turn this into a grand learning experiment for myself and my audience.

These expeditions are funded partly through grants and partly through crew contributions, so the next trick was going to be to raise the funds necessary to participate. Over three months I contacted outdoor apparel companies (4 in total), some tech companies (3), a sustainable cosmetics company and two educational/conservation organizations, hoping to discuss the possibility of them helping in some way with my small budget. I heard back from exactly ONE of these potential sponsors, and that was because the person I contacted was a brilliant friend who has done projects like these herself, and who had a very cogent answer about the company's giving strategy and what may or may not work. Over these three months I went through periods of pumping disappointment, exuberant determination, plodding resolve and everything in-between. I searched email and phone directories, emailed these folks, even visited the ones with brick-and-mortar stores to talk to the managers. In the face-to-face situations, I was met with enthusiasm, but never by the decision-makers themselves. The follow-through was nil. I am not naive regarding corporate giving policies, nor am I indifferent to the plight of business in a down economy. I do, however, expect an answer when I pose a question. I expect some proportion of those answers to be NO, maybe even all of them, and I harbor no hard feelings over the nos, but I EXPECT an answer. It is the bare minimum of P.R. professionalism to respond to legitimate email and in-person inquiries.

So it seemed that corporate sponsorship was not going to work out. The next option seemed to be a kickstarter campaign, but kickstarter has recently made the decision to restrict use of their platform to creative projects only. (I happen to think that's a good idea, by the way, as they can focus their platform and tailor it to that community). What I was proposing to do was really a research-adventure project, and, while I could have tried to shoe-horn it into an art project of some kind, I thought the idea had merit in and of itself.

Finally, again through twitter, I became aware of the fact that Nick Jaffe, who I know from his Atlantic crossing and other adventures in a quasi-sistership of mine, was building an adventure funding platform called Nomaddica. He was lauching a pre-pre-alpha version to help Roz Savage, who is rowing across the Indian Ocean, with fundraising. I emailed Nick and he quickly agreed to help with my project, despite the fact that his code wasn't ready and that this was likely to be a huge headache for him. I was overjoyed.

Throughout this entire fundraising process, the expedition manager, Emily, had been a tremendous help, giving me ideas about companies to contact, how to possibly structure the fundraising, and chatting with me about the logistics of getting to the start of the trip, immunizations and the like.

In the end, logistics and burn out killed this project. There appears to be a weekly flight to the Kiritimati (Christmas Island) atoll from which leg 4 of the trip begins, and because of its timing it would require me to take fully 3 weeks off from work. Nomaddica can help with the fundraising, but there is no guarantee that we can cover my expenses and I am loathe to burden my social network with the responsibility for funding a trip that no corporate sponsor saw fit to be associated with. But is the inability to find a sponsor for this project a damning judgment or simply a reflection of the fact that people do not bother to send emails of rejection, preferring instead for them to be implied?

I, of course, am not globally giving up! I am merely throwing in the towel (and deleting the twitter account and blog) for this particular imagined research-education project. It was an enlightening, months-long exercise in fundraising, social media and concept development, and it separated the many mice I contacted from the few humans who chose to respond (whether to the affirmative or negative). Instead I choose to lend my support, and I urge you to, as well, to Roz's campaign. I look forward to the completion of Nick's fundraising platform. And I wish the S/V Sea Dragon all the best in this and future expeditions. As long as beaches are covered in plastic bottles, there is work to be done.

Of course, I will make it to the South Pacific some other time ;-)

Wheeler Gorge

2011-04-02T18:36:00.000-07:00

Tick list:
Cobble Climb
Cruiser
South of the trout farm
Stu Boy

Indian Creek

2011-03-19T17:07:00.000-07:00

"Tick" list
Tuesday:
* The incredible hand crack
* Supercrack
* Coyne crack
Wednesday:
* Kitten kicker (Unnamed 19)
* Deseret moon

The Fortress

2011-02-17T08:58:00.000-08:00

The Fortress is a fabulous area of new climbing development just past the Sespe Gorge on Hwy 33. Most of the routes were set by Matt Fienup, and they're closely bolted and very cool. My friend J and I hit it on Saturday of last weekend. We started up on the left, went up 5.4, 5.9, 5.7 and 5.10a pitches, dropped down the other side and toproped 10a, then went up Permanent Income Hypothesis at 5.9. The conditions were damn near perfect, temperatures were mild in the sun and shade, nice gentle breeze and we had the place to ourselves. What a day!

Return to Echo Cliffs

2011-01-18T11:49:00.000-08:00

This past Saturday I hit Echo Cliffs with two friends, one of whom has done very little climbing outside and one of whom had never led outside. I had my reservations about climbing with non-leaders from the start because, even though I've managed to follow reasonably challenging climbs over the last six months, I hadn't led since Angel's Fright in early summer. I was also expecting, correctly, as it turned out, that the routes would be mobbed. In general I was having trouble explaining to people just how low their expectations of climbing that day should be...

In any case, we had a really fun day! The temperature was perfect and we enjoyed the hike in and out, my knees holding up just fine. We started at the Grotto, with the two 5.8/5.9s on the left of the stream. I led the face climb first, and I could tell I was still in granite mode and not loving the tuff. A gentleman who was climbing nearby was kind enough to make the first clip on the arete route to its right next, and I started up that. I remember having led it a couple years ago, and feeling fine and proud, despite the menacing drop. The kind gentleman had gone, in my opinion, off-route when leading it himself, and, all of a sudden, in the middle of my lead he and a random lady off to the side started talking to me, presumably trying to give me beta. I hate beta. And more than that, I hate being talked to in the middle of a challenging lead. The only bad lead fall I've taken was when my mentor, Francis, tried to talk me through a section between the 1st and 2nd bolt on a climb at New Jack City. So here I was, between the 1st and 2nd bolt on this climb, with a potentially much worse fall and a new belayer and TWO random people were talking to me. I gave it a game try and backed off. I took 5 minutes to compose myself and de-pump, got back on, and the same thing happened. Gabber gabber gabber. Wtf?! I backed off again. I was pissed off enough that I knew I couldn't ask them politely to shut up, so I didn't say anything. My belayer had shown exceptional control following, then leading the previous route, so I asked him if he wanted to try to onsight this one, and he took the opportunity. The remaining two of us followed, and then we went to have lunch, while I talked myself out of chewing out those helpful people. I guess it's a public place and they can talk as loudly as they wish to. After lunch we hit the Left Flank, and I led a long, super fun 5.8+ thingy. That put me back in a happy mood, and rounded off our day.

I actually had no idea that someone talking to me between the 1st and 2nd bolt of a challenging climb would shut me down. I don't recall my previous leader fall as an especially traumatic experience. I did fall on top of my belayer then, and I was lucky that she was so good at her job. But I took some time, dusted myself off and sent that climb! So I wasn't expecting this. I think time away from leading combined with the similar setting and serious consequences of a fall there made me back off. I think it was the right decision, too, since I don't like to force it. I didn't like that I couldn't muster a polite way to shut those people up, but I am proud for not ruining everyone's day...

2nd #jtreetweetup

2010-11-16T09:55:00.001-08:00

Praying mantis on Freerider wall
Originally uploaded by slampoud

Well, the 2nd #jtreetweetup is behind us, and I'm struggling once more to put the experience into words... Yet, this year the aftertaste is distinctly different, for me.

Last year's tweetup was the first. It had been such a special experience that for me it felt fragile. I put it in a snow globe and refused to analyze it or write about it for fear of marring it. Every once in a while I was allowed to turn over the globe and make moon eyes at it.

This year's tweetup was similar yet different. The feeling of community was just as strong. It was just as amazing to meet or meet again the people in whose lives I'm a spectator and occasional participant. It was all really special in all the same huge, really amazing and important ways. The bittersweetness of departure last year was replaced with the bittersweetness of missing some of the people who had been there the year before (or indeed, people who'd gone to the Red Rocks or other climbing tweetups that I only know from twitter), but knowing they're OK. But topping it all off, for me at least, was an undercurrent of optimism that I hadn't detected last year.

Last year had been about "wow! what just happened?! that was so special! I wonder if anything this special can ever happen again". This year was more "wow! this is awesome! It happened again! Can we keep doing this?!" Do you see what I mean? It's like the difference between falling in love for the first time vs realizing that being in love is, ideally, a human condition, and you're a creature made to participate in that with an open heart again and again.

And before readers start wondering what I did to the real Teri, I'll take my bow. It was a privilege to meet and meet again with everyone. Be safe! Auf wiedersehen!

Our ticklist: Dappled Mare (led 2nd pitch). Dinky Doinks, Granny Goose, M&Ms Plain (followed).

Post-facelift New Jack

2010-11-08T20:39:00.000-08:00

This weekend there was a lovely meetup at New Jack City. I'd heard that the BLM was planning "improvements", but I didn't know what, if anything, had happened. As it turned out what development has been so far done is quite unobtrusive, and some of it is downright useful. The road has been graded a little better, and covered in gravel, which reduced the amount of dust generated by passing cars. Some concrete pads with permanent roofs were put in place, presumably to concentrate camping around them, and to provide some permanent shade. Finally, two more vault toilets were installed -- a very welcome addition, which will be even better once it's properly stocked with t.p.

We climbed on Raven on Saturday, and I dispatched a couple 10a's and a 10b. On Sunday we climbed on Boyscout wall, where I led a 7 and toproped 3 10a/b's, and then Francis led and I followed the route to the right of Espresso, again a 10a. I considered getting on Espresso (10c) on Saturday, but backed off, as I was intimidated by its crimpiness. The shoulder's doing pretty well, but I'm concerned about my shoulders starting to pull forward as I regain strength in my arm muscles. I'll see what I can do about getting some more p.t. authorized.

First time at Holcomb Pinnacles

2010-10-18T17:45:00.001-07:00

This weekend Dan and I joined Rebecca and Francis at the Holcomb Pinnacles. Great food and a blast was had by all. We did a bunch of 7s, a 6 and an 8, two 10a's and a 10b. Shoulder felt good!

White Punks on Dope

2010-10-12T10:07:00.000-07:00

As the dear reader may recall, one of the objectives of Dima's and my last trip to the Needles had been to climb White Punks on Dope. But we had failed, since the approach took too long, and it was far too hot a day to be starting up a serious climb with as little water as we had. So we had backed off, but turned on GPS tracking on the way down, so we could do the approach with less hassle in the future.

Well, on Friday we returned to Voodoo Dome, to give WPoD one more try. We began our trip with the customary stop at the brewery in Kernville, then proceeded up to the road-side bivy on Needlerock Creek, only to find four cars parked there! We ended up crashing at the turnout just before the creek, so that we could still walk to the trailhead, instead of the campground, from where we would have to drive.

We woke up around 6:30am Saturday to an absolutely perfect day. We took our time puttering about for breakfast and racking up, then started up the trail. We didn't turn on the GPS from the start. This time we knew not to miss the left turn that takes you to the climbs -- if you go straight you're now on the descent path, but going up. Nevertheless, at some point, despite all our efforts, we ran out of cairns to follow. That's exactly why we had the GPS track with us, and it was time to use it. As fate would have it, however, my phone with which I had fiddled extensively to ensure that I had the right apps and everything would work, could not acquire a GPS signal in the woods. We moved a little approximately in the right direction, and at every clearing I would give my phone a chance to acquire a signal, and every time it would NOT. T-mobile had pushed a GPS firmware update the night before, and I was convinced -- and furious! -- that it had simply broken my GPS, which I had gone to such pains to prep. Eventually we found ourselves in a rocky gully with cairns, but it was clear that it was headed for the notch between Voodoo Dome and the Dome to the west. From there we could see that we had to bushwhack N-NE to find the base of our climb, and so we did. Eventually we intersected the rocky gully that does lead to the base of WPoD, and scrambled up to the base. It was 10:10am, and by 10:30am we were on the rock.

Dima led all the pitches in this climb. The first pitch was a cool, rope-stretching crack in the middle of a face framed by dihedrals. We had shade for half of it, and it ended in an alcove below and between big broken sections. It was a gorgeous climb, and the belay was in a really cool spot. At the end of the first pitch we had a yelled conversation with a party of, I think, 3 who were planning to start up the climb behind us.

The second pitch has a vere bouldery start. Dima placed a cam and a nut above the anchor before testing the move and falling on the nut. On the next try he pulled the move just fine. When it came time for me to follow, I was dismayed to find that the nut he'd fallen on was pretty jammed, so I had to spend a whole bunch of time extracting it. The next belay was also in an alcove beneath a big chimney. There was a weird constriction in the rock that was going to make the next pitch really tricky, so we broke up the easy terrain into several "pitches" with hip belays. The top of the chimney was very very cool, and that soon brought us to the base of the fingers dihedral that is the hardest rated pitch (at 5.9) of the climb.

Dima led up the dihedral, huffing and puffing, protected the exit into an offwidth lieback with the #4 camalot, as planned, and started belaying me up. I pretty much hated life in that dihedral. My Achilles tendons were killing me, and the sides of the dihedral were in an acute angle, meaning I couldn't get much rest. It was slick and messy. The fingers crack, at least, was good. By the time I got to the #4 I was so ready for offwidth! I underclung the thing and made it out. This was a legitimately hard pitch, but far too long and awkward for me to pretend I enjoyed it.

The next pitch was the most fun for both of us, I think. It's a slab pitch, with one placement to protect right above the anchor, then 4 bolts in 165 feet of climbing. It's rated, I think correctly, at 5.8. Dima grumbled and climbed, and then I followed. The crux, I think, comes right after the first bolt. There is a completely improbable traversing move necessary, and both Dima and I thought it was the hardest. But it was so fun!

The slab pitch ends at a big ledge, from which we chose to head to the summit via a 5.9+ finger crack. It was a very nice climb, but Dima kept me on a lot of tension, so I wouldn't deck if I fell at the start, and I felt like I was essentially pulled up the climb. It was 5pm when we got to the top, so we didn't waste any time finding our way off the formation. We rapped down the North side, from the slings at the very top, and then tried to find a trail off. This time I knew we'd have to lose a lot of elevation to clear the buttresses ringing the rock, so we didn't hesitate to head down. Eventually, and almost magically, we dropped down the notch between Voodoo and Gremlin. From there we could see the road, and we had a general idea of what we were looking for. We were back at the car by 7pm, before headlamps were even necessary, and we really felt like we'd gotten away with something!

The GPS, by the way, finally got enough satellite signal at the ledge below the summit. And the climbers we heard start behind us... we never heard from them again. They must have bailed. And we never did find out what all those cars were doing at Needlerock creek...

Dima's gallery

Sorting out my gear

2010-10-07T12:08:00.000-07:00

I've made a lot of gear purchases this summer, and yesterday I took the time to return and replace some. Here's the rationale, and review-like observations:

Swapping the Patagonia NanoPuff pullover for TNF Zephyrus

I got a Patagonia NanoPuff pullover, whose purpose was to be the jacket at the bottom of my multi-pitch pack that gets called on if things get colder than at the start of the approach. It's extremely light and packable and perfect for the purpose. I ended up returning it and replacing it with a North Face Zephyrus pullover, which cost $30 less, best case. They both use the same Polartec One insulation, the former at 60 grams and the latter at 40. The former has the insulation, which is originally in sheets, sewed into it in a criss-cross pattern, whereas the latter has no such baffles. But the North Face one has what seems a tougher nylon shell, and tearing that is my primary concern.

Swapping the Patagonia R1 pullover for the Velocity powerstretch zip

I got a Patagonia R1 pullover primarily for racing. The rationale was that, while my wool-based technical gear is awesome, it's not the safest option for sailing. This is because wool retains more water when soaked than fleece. This means you both expend more energy warming that water until it evaporates, and you weigh more, which is a consideration if you go overboard. So I thought I'd try R1. I liked it a lot, except that the collar was too wide and drafty, and that was a no-no. I eventually took a bunch of friends' blog recommendations and went with the Velocity zip, again by Patagonia, which is much much stretchier.

Moving from the REI Acme to the Patagonia Alpine Guide pants

I love guide pants -- the soft-shell, stretchy, water-resistant pants that a million companies now make. Until now I've been well-served by my REI Acme pants, which are fabulous except for the fact that the Schoeller waterproofing on them has completely failed. After doing plenty of research and agonizing over this, I've decided to give the Patagonia Alpine Guide pants a try. I'm excited about the fit, and the glowing recommendations regarding the waterproofing.

Hint: how to patch a down jacket like a pro

And finally, a hint. When campfire embers made a couple small holes in my favorite Isis down jacket, I did what most climbers do: I patched it with climbing tape. Then I tried ductape and that was just as ugly, and once the edges started peeling, just as annoyingly sticky. Then it occurred to me that spinnaker repair tape is almost the same denier nylon fabric as the shell I was trying to patch. Et voila!

Captain Kirk at the Needles

2010-08-19T15:16:00.000-07:00

Before leaving on my previous climbing trip to Tuolumne I emailed Dima, the guy who originally taught me how to climb cracks two years ago, for beta for that trip. He mentioned his school year was about to start for earnest but that he barely had time for one more trip, and we concocted a plan to head to the Needles for two or three days. Dima flew into LA and we were going to meet in Kernville on Sunday afternoon. As it turned out, not one but two rental cars crapped out on him, so he was running a couple hours late when I arrived at Kernville and parked my butt at the Kern River Brewing Co. I was wearing my new Supercrack t-shirt, and a couple of folks at the brewery had apparently just been talking about the Supercrack, so we struck up a very pleasant conversation. Between reading my book, catching up on beta and drinking, time flew and Dima arrived. We had dinner and took off for the high campground, where we had a quick ceremonial libation and crashed asleep.

The next morning found us not too hurried. While I had only climbed on Voodoo Dome, Dima had been to the top of the Needles before and gotten hopelessly lost trying to find Magic Dragon. So he had decided that we should start by trying to climb Igor Unchained, the shortest, but also hardest of our objectives, since he expected we'd spend part of the day lost. As it turned out, we didn't get lost at all. We hiked in to the base of the tower, then took the trail that traverses the North side of the Needles, then dropped down the notch between the Witch and the Sorcerer, and BLAM! Igor on the left! Atlantis on the right! Figurative climber hard on!

Igor Unchained looks as beautiful and intimidating from the bottom as it does in pictures, but steeper. The backstory is short and sweet: in spring 2009 I was looking at Needles pictures on Mountain Project when I noticed Igor. He took my breath away. I wanted to climb him. So I made a date with my then partner to go to Igor in May 2010 and lead all three pitches of him. In November I was stronger than ever, and it all seemed like it might work out. But then Ben and I stopped climbing together, and in February, and then again in March I tore my rotator cuff and labrum. So my plans to climb Igor, or to climb anything, really, were put off for months. Fast forward to Monday: Dima is rearing to go, and I am at the base, having promised to follow him up anything he cares to lead (and thinking, based on prior experience, that that was a safe bet). I am shaking in my boots in the presence of Igor. What on earth is 5.9"+"? I've researched this climb extensively and I know that people say the "+" is for sustained. To me that means strenuous, and I'm out of shape. We're at high altitude and it's supposed to be hot and I haven't climbed with Dima in two years and I'm thinking, I better not break down and cry, or worse, pee myself now...

Dima racks up and off we go! The first pitch is a left-facing dihedral that requires the leader to make the same move over and over. Dima luckily has doubles, even some triples, in the right sizes, so he slowly-slowly makes it almost all the way up the pitch. Instead of belaying in an alcove, he is forced, through lack of appropriate gear, to build a hanging belay a little lower. I start following and I'm learning quickly. Lesson #1: Dima actually believes he might fall, because he's setting the nuts *really* well. Every time I have to remove a nut I lose skin off one, sometimes two, knuckles. Lesson #2: what is happy hands for Dima is a little wide for me. I'm sometimes on the verge of slipping out of the places where he's placed a #2 C4. I'm camming my wrists in that shallow crack in new and painful ways. About two thirds up that interminable dihedral I have to hang. I call a take and try to catch my breath, massage some blood back into my right hand, recover the use of my left Achilles tendon. Then it's back at it, and I arrive, panting like a dog, at one of the most uncomfortable belays in memory.

The next pitch goes even slower for the leader. There is a bizzarre tiny roof with a wide crack to get over, then some more wide stuff, then a fingers dihedral. Dima overcomes them all methodically, though I can't see him from my vantage point for the second half. In the meantime I'm devising increasingly more acrobatic ways to hang in my harness. I finally start up. It turns out that the beta for me to get over the little roof with the wide crack is completely different from Dima's. Where he could jam his thigh, I can fit my whole hip. I come up with a way to do it that seems like a child's solution to a boulder problem. It involves a heel-toe-hook, the bastard lovechild of a heel-hook and heel-toe jam. By then Dima is insistently providing "belay assistance", though I haven't asked for it, so the whole exercise is a little ridiculous. I get to the dihedral and I finally relax. Fingers dihedral, I know how to do this. Turns out that was the part that had sketched out Dima. Go figure. We're on a ledge now, and there's a place to sit in the shade. It's practically palatial!

Dima agonizes a little about how to rack up for the third pitch, but the printed beta is pretty clear, fingers and hands, so off he goes. I'm belaying him seemingly forever. He runs out of rope and I yell up at him, but I can't hear his response. I don't take him off belay until I can tell he has me on. I break down the anchor and off I go. This is the pitch that had me nearly peeing myself at the base. It's completely vertical. I'm climbing and it's really strenuous, but really really good. After I seem to have climbed a pitch's worth, I start thinking, this may be the best pitch I've ever climbed. But then it keeps going. Another of what seems like half a pitch later, I'm starting to bargain in my head: if you end now, I'll still call you the best pitch I've ever climbed, but if not... It's vertical, so I can't see over the top, and I don't know how much further. I'm having to stop and de-pump my hands every chance I get, which is not often enough. Man! What is this?! I slip and I catch myself. Damned if I'm taking a fall now! Finally, the angle eases off and I pant to Dima. Holy shit! We are both mumbling in ecstasy, telling each other about our mental process, him leading, me following that pitch. We agree that it may be the best pitch we've done. And it's *exactly* 60 meters long.

The view from the top of the Witch, whom we've now earned the right to call the Bitch, is spectacular. We spent a lot of time up there taking pictures and enjoying the breeze. We rapped down and started on the trail back, and somewhere about a quarter of the way back to camp my internal battery ran out of juice. I had to scramble and hike back extremely ... very slowly. But we made it, of course. We headed out to Ponderosa for beers & burgers, but found it had just closed. We drove down to Needlepoint Creek, our bivy on the low road, since the plan for the next day was to do White Punks on Dope, which is on Voodoo Dome. On the way we saw two beautiful brown bears. Over dinner we looked up at the Needles in moonlight.

The next morning we got up at 6, and probably left around 7. We coudn't find the trail, eventually made it to the base of Voodoo, and then followed the base around to White Punks. The heat and bushwhacking misery of this could not be overstated. We got there at 10am, and the sun was already beginning to bake the world. We were destroyed from the approach, and decided we no longer had enough water or time to do the climb and get back with the desired margin of safety. We turned on Dima's GPS tracking and followed the cairns downhill, making a track to the base of the climb on the way -- a little community service, if you will, and a pre-requisite for a future successful attempt.

View White punks on dope approach trail in a larger map

With Dima gone to points North to climb, and the camera with the photos of our trip still with him, I returned home. I've slept at home for two nights since the trip, and I have never slept so soundly in my life. I did not know such depths of exhaustion could be plumbed.

First time in Tuolumne

2010-08-10T12:59:00.001-07:00

Much as I hate it, I think this trip report is going to disappoint everyone who has been looking forward to it. We didn't get as much climbing done as I'd hoped, we didn't get to climb Cathedral Peak, as we'd planned, and logistics was a nightmare because of how crowded the park was. We had fun nevertheless, but I was barely sore when we got back.

Night #1:
Michelle and I left for Tuolumne on Thursday evening at 6pm. We'd made it to Hilltop hot spring, south of Mammoth, by 1am. There was only one a small truck parked there, with a dude sleeping in the back, so we were clear to go for a dip and crash. I proceeded to navigate left and up the hill instead of right and down, and we'd given up on finding the hot spring when we returned to the parking lot and the dude kindly pointed us in the right direction. Poor guy, I bet he was tossing and turning for hours after we woke him up. Sorry, dude! We found the spring, took a dip and admired the Milky Way and then crashed hard hidden in the lee of the car -- a dubious move, as camping is not allowed there, and if we got caught it would make it worse for everyone coming after us. It was a freezing cold night, and I woke up with lots of frost on my very warm and comfy down sleeping bag. I think Michelle had it somewhat worse in her thinner synthetic.

Hot ropegun
Originally uploaded by slampoud

Day #1:
We woke up, breakfasted quickly, and headed up to the Park. We found no camping spots in the Inyo campsites outside the park, endured the traffic jam at the entrance, and stopped at the Wilderness Permit Center. It was midday, hot, and we had no place to stay. We stashed the food and went to climb at Puppy Dome. Michelle led Puppy Crack (5.7), which wasn't much to write home about. We then went around the corner and Michelle led Battle of the Bulge (5.8R, but she got a tri-cam in the R section, so not R). That was fun to follow, and had a move on the bulge that tested my shoulder. It all held, and we were feeling strong, but at that point our anxiety about where to crash that night was mounting. We decided to get a backcountry backpacking permit and rent a bear box, and headed up Murphy Creek (that being the closest hike) to camp for the night. Murphy Creek, by the way, was nearly dry, and the lake supposedly at its end... well, let's just say we never found it. We camped on some gorgeous dry water-polished slabs, had a nice dinner, and crashed early. I slept outside, using my silk sleeping bag insert as a mosquito net, while I read Shackleton's "South", the story of his expedition to Antarctica, by headlamp.

Day #3:
The next morning we made a quick breakfast, hiked out, and headed back towards the permit centers. We found a site at Tuolumne campground, and that significantly eased our anxiety over logistics. We moved the food from the Wilderness Permit Center to the site and decided to check out Lembert Dome's NW Books. When we got to the base, we found several parties already on the route, two more at the base, and one below the ramp. We had a lovely chat with the folks at the base of the ramp, while the shade ran out, and took the leader's advice to try some of the easier knob climbs. We drove to Low Profile Dome to do Golfer's Route, a 5.7 with a 5.7R second pitch. We proceeded to hang out at the base, where it was very very hot, while a party did laps on TR. When they cleared out, Michelle led it, up to the middle anchor, and decided she didn't want to do the R pitch, which could have been completed with the same rope. I seconded it and had a minor freakout at the start with my feet. It's hard to explain, but basically, my feet felt wrong in these shoes on this knobby terrain. My new Scarpa Technos are an improvement over my Mythos because I can make them tighter, and because they are a little stiffer, so they take off some of the strain of foot-jamming. On the other hand, they're more edging shoes than slab shoes, so a) I absolutely cannot "wrap" my toes around a feature, b) they have a lot of material between my toes and the rock, and c) when they fail to stick, they fail 100%, they don't slip gradually, like my old purple Mythos used to. So I stepped up and thought, "Whoa! this sucks!" Things got better as I moved up and got used to them, but I never got over the fact that the part of the shoe that's in contact with an edge may or may not have a toe behind it. This is what you get with board-lasted shoes, I guess... In any case, it was a fun climb, once I stopped freaking out about my shoes. We then decided to head to the Bunny Slopes, which we'd considered the day before, but couldn't find the approach to. We followed a gully up, and Michelle led a 5.6 knob climb, Hot Crossed Buns. I seconded it, and it felt a little more natural. Just as I felt I was getting the hang of knob climbing, I think Michelle's confidence was being sapped by the runouts between bolts on these climbs. We decided to call it a day, as the weather seemed like it was closing, got drizzled on the way back, and rounded off the day with a swim in the water hole bordering the campground.

Rocks!
Originally uploaded by slampoud

Day #3:
At this point, since the forecast for Sunday was looking about the same as Saturday, i.e. evening storms, we decided Cathedral Peak wasn't going to happen. We got up a bit earlier and headed back up to NW Books. This time we were first in line, but a second party arrived within minutes, and we let them go past. They were extremely fast, so that was a good decision. We roped up and I got to leading. I got to the bolt that protects the 5.6 mantle at the start of the route and decided the move directly above the bolt, which might have been a 5.6 mantle if you could get your hands on the ledge, was definitely not 5.6 unless you are 6'3'' tall. There was no way I was going to stand on featureless, vertical slab in my Scarpas long enough to get a hold of that ledge. I wasted a lot of time trying to figure out a way to do that move, and it sapped my confidence. I started doubting whether I should be on the route, and feeling the pressure of the party behind us, who were waiting to start. I thought about coming down and letting Michelle try the move, but I wanted to lead the bastard. Finally, I decided another mantle, maybe 3 feet to the left of the bolt, was a lot more doable, and went that way. (As it turned out, both Michelle and the follower of the party behind us did it the same way, whereas the leader behind me went right. Nobody pulled the alleged 5.6 mantle, assuming I had correctly identified it). The rest of the route went easily, though it took me a couple minutes to regain my confidence. I must have fiddled with my anchor building too much, because the leader of the next party decided to start just before Michelle. I wasn't expecting to see him when a head popped up around the corner. We decided to let them go ahead of us for the next pitch, which proved to be a mistake, because they were no faster. I guess I was feeling guilty for having made everyone wait while I figured out the mantle situation. The second pitch wasn't much to write home about, and we stayed roped up for the last "pitch", which was 4th class slab stuff. The summit was beautiful, and by that point we, the party behind/in front of us (depending on the pitch) and the party even further back had become fast friends. We all walked off the dome together, talking science and philosophy, and took the longer hike around the North side of the dome back to our cars. After that we returned to the campsite to have some food, and headed out to Tenaya Lake for a dip. But the weather broke before we got there and it was cold and windy by the time we reached it. Michelle went in nevertheless, while I enjoyed the torrent. We stopped to watch two guys bail off Zee Tree (which I really really want to climb!) in the rain, and returned to the campsite, where it had barely drizzled, when they made it safely to the ground, only to find that the guys were actually our campsite neighbors when they drove up later. We told them we'd been watching, but I think that must have embarrassed them, because they didn't speak a word to us.

Pancakes for breakfast
Originally uploaded by slampoud

Day #4:
Michelle made pancakes for my birthday and we struck camp in leisure. We decided to drive out of the park via the Valley and 41. The Valley was awe inspiring as ever, and we resolved to return and climb something tall in the future. 41 was a nightmare, with three or four sections of one-way traffic. We must have waited over an hour total at those sections... The rest of the drive was uneventful, and we were home by 7, in time for a birthday dinner with Dan.

Angel's Fright comeback

2010-07-19T10:59:00.001-07:00

Go git 'em, Tiger!
Originally uploaded by slampoud

This weekend I met up with my San Diego climbing friends at Idyllwild. Francis and Rebecca are both phenomenal sport climbers, and I give them full credit for all the progress I made in my technique while I lived in San Diego. Neither of them climbs trad or multi-pitch though, and they have a real aversion to the idea of sticking their hands in a crack. A new rock gym has opened in SD, and Rebecca had hurt her shoulder training over-enthusiastically there, so she was not planning to climb in Idyllwild. But luckily she had convinced Francis to bring his harness, helmet and shoes, and so the stage was set.

Since the forecast called for temps in the 90s on Saturday, the decision had to be made on Friday night regarding whether we'd climb multi-pitch the next day, since we'd have to get up quite early to beat the heat. I proposed that we get on Angel's Fright (which I had climbed last year) and explained how I expected things to work out: 6am start, max 1 hr per pitch, I wanted to be back in camp by 3pm to beat the heat.

Francis agreed to do it. This was huge, for several reasons. First, Francis is far more experienced and knowledgeable than me, so he's usually in charge. This time, the route finding and leading would all be my responsibility. Second, Francis had never climbed trad or multi-pitch, he claims not to like crack, and he doesn't like waking up early. So it was my responsibility to make sure we weren't going to have an adventure that would permanently turn him off any of these things. Further, I've been injured for the last 6 months, and, while I've been diligently working on recovering my physical health and strength, I haven't led anything worth noting in over 6 months. So "Where's your head at?" was definitely the song playing in my head. Finally, since I usually trade leads with people, I only have one cordelette for building anchors. I have enough lockers and long slings to improvise a second good anchor, but I knew anchoring was going to be slightly stressful every other time. Despite all this, I was really excited.

I slept in my Fit, and pretty well, at that. I woke up around 5:30am, with the birds, and puttered around making breakfast and packing. Francis got up 6ish and puttered around, and we managed to leave the campground by 6:45 (before anyone else we knew) and be at the trailhead by 7am. The hike up was a pain, as usual, but we took it slow. My knee held up well, and I felt warm and calm when we got to the base of the rock. We found the base of the climb, and I proceeded to talk through my worries about whether I could lead the first pitch. Last time I had seconded it with a pack and it had been a bear. We talked over our strategy regarding whether Francis should wear or haul the pack when he came up. I was in favor of hauling, he thought he could wear it. It was his call, in the end. I racked up just as a couple guys who also wanted to do the climb showed up. At that point my resolve gelled, and I got on the climb. It was far easier, almost comfortable, without a pack. I huffed and puffed a whole bunch, but every move felt calculated, even the huffing felt controlled. I sailed through the chimney, and that set the tone for the rest of the climb.

I built an anchor and belayed Francis up. I don't think he enjoyed the first pitch, because he had that pack on. The second pitch is the most exposed and trickiest one. I did it textbook style, traversing to the right piton first, the left piton second, and thereby introducing an assload of drag to my rope. I belayed Francis up to the bottom of the chute/crack section. The next pitch was the only one I'd led when I had done the climb a year ago. It felt remarkably easy this time, as I stemmed all the way up instead of jamming my hip into the chute. The roof was, dare I say, fun! I belayed Francis up to Lunch ledge, and I think he was having fun. We hung out there and enjoyed the last of the shade, the view and the breeze for a while. The last pitch can be done in one of several ways. The decision point is above a bunch of bushes, maybe 30 feet or so up from the belay. I didn't have a plan, but I had seconded the 5.5 slab finish before, and led an alternate further left finish when we'd done Fingertrip. I got up to the bushes and was intrigued by the 5.6 lieback finish, off a beautiful flake on reasonably low angle terrain. I looked at it carefully, protected well below it, and then did the climb real slowly and deliberately. I love onsight climbing the most, and I was so pleased I got to do that, and on such a stellar pitch, to boot. I belayed Francis up, and that was that.

We topped out at noon, which was exactly as I'd wanted it. We'd been the first people on the climb, which, again, was ideal. We'd had shade for 3 out of 4 pitches, which had been fabulously comfortable. But most importantly, my knee and shoulder had held very well. During the whole climb I felt like I was well within my comfort zone, and that allowed me to enjoy it while it was happening. I love challenging myself, and I love onsighting slightly harder stuff, but there is something to be said for getting on something where you don't need to stay all that focused, or strictly within the painted lines demarcating the "Zone". There is also something to be said for being on the sharp end for a longer period of time, which I had never tried before. All in all, I think this was the most fun I've had on a trad climb, ever. There wasn't a single moment of anxiety or doubt. I guess that's what people mean when they call something "casual", but there's always a tone of derision accompanying that statement, and I strenuously object to that.

The descent was long and hot. I did it in my Vibram Five Fingers, which turned out to be superior to both my climbing shoes and my approach shoes for this task. Great discovery, that! I should mention that I did the climb in my new Scarpa Technos, which proved to be fantastic. The XSgrip rubber is definitely a match for granite, and the slightly more pointed toe (compared to Mythos) really matched my style. We were back in the car by 2:30, and my knees, especially my left one, that has a small tear in its meniscus, felt trashed.

We picked up ice on the way back to the campground, and I iced everything before heading out for beers at the Lumber Mill. A remarkably good band called Unwound rocked the joint, and we had a blast hanging out, in post-climb glow, during the hottest part of the day. Francis made fabulous paella for dinner. I slept well. I finished my book the next day. I started a new one, that Rebecca loaned to me, sitting next to a babbling brook. I got home on a nearly empty highway, whose opposite traffic direction was stopped for 80 miles!

My mind was a blank slate last night. Bliss!

Do not climb 5.6 in JTree

2010-06-14T11:09:00.001-07:00

Michelle on Right Peyote Crack III
Originally uploaded by slampoud

This weekend's lesson is in bold in the title.

I'm just kidding, but really, this was an educational weekend. Michelle and I headed to JTree on Friday night. I got there around 6, and got us site 9 in Hidden Valley. Michelle arrived around 11:30. I'd already slept a couple hours by the time she got there, so then I couldn't sleep afterwards. The howling winds didn't help, but at least it was warm and we got to sleep outside and didn't have to deal with tents.

In any event, the next morning found me drowsy. I've been out of physical therapy for about two weeks now, and the shoulder was feeling good after the first week, but starting to hurt again after the second. I had decided that I wasn't going to lead on this trip, and that I wasn't even going to climb anything harder than a 9. This left the chore of being rope-gun entirely on Michelle, who had never climbed in JTree before, and was, rightly, intimidated by its reputation for sandbagged grades.

Thus, we were looking for 5.6 cracks for Michelle to lead, in the JTree West area, since that's all that's covered in my newer guide book. Complicating our stringent requirements was the fact that it was windy and a little chilly in the morning, but things turned really hot in the sun. So we wanted sun in the morning, but not in the afternoon...

We decided to start with Mike's Books. All went well for the first pitch, which revealed to me that my cardio reserves were completely shot and the least bit of exertion made me pant. Michelle led the left variation to the start, and I started straight up the crack. When we eyeballed the second pitch, however, we thought it was a pretty clear offwidth, and without a #4, it would be dreadfully run out. We hadn't brought up the #4, so we bailed. The Mountain Project page corroborates our assessment, so I'm glad we did.

Next we were looking for something a little more challenging and maybe shady. We eyeballed Overhang Bypass, also at Intersection Rock. The first pitch looked like no problem, but the traverse, which is to bypass the overhang, looked like a bear from below, and there were no bailing options if we got spooked. I was especially freaked by the idea of having to do essentially a hand traverse (the feet looked nonexistant) on a recuperating shoulder. We passed on it, though I think Michelle was more stoked about it than I was. In retrospect I'm sure Michelle would've styled it, but I'm not sure my shoulder would have loved me.

I then located another supposed 5.6 that didn't have "chimney" in the description in Steve Canyon, Deflowered. The name should have been more of a hint. Alas, hindsight is 20-20. Michelle, always the good sport, up and led it. It was slow, grunting going for her, and I was belaying in the sun and getting very very hungry. Then she topped out with a whoop! While Michelle was finishing the anchor, I grabbed two bites out of a Gnu bar, thinking this would give me some energy for the climb. The first section of the climb was fine, strenuous, but fine. I had to take a break at the end of it to make sure I didn't barf. Note to self: do not eat 30 seconds before climbing in the heat. The middle section was most definitely a damn chimney. Michelle had placed a big cam at the very depths of the thing, so I had to go in and get it. But then I wanted to be outside the chimney and on this horizontal seam that she had placed a smaller cam in. I had heel-toed my way up and now I was pinched between two pro placements I had to remove: one required me to go deeper, one further out. Crap! I took out the outside one, which I could reach, and then got deep into the chimney to remove the other one. And then I was totally stuck. I mean mechanically stuck, no way out but to reverse my moves, but I was on toprope. I weighted the rope and just sort of swung out a little bit and resumed. What a bummer, a fall. Anyway, the grunt-fest continued all the way to the top, and I topped out thinking, this is the hardest 5.6 ever. Mountain Project folk apparently agree with me, and the rating has been upgraded to 5.7 at least.

After that we rapped to the base and took a nap, then hiked back to the campsite and took another nap in the midday heat. Later in the afternoon we headed out to the Peyote Cracks. Michelle led Right Peyote Crack, a 5.8, with a little more apprehension and shaking than before, but again in good style. I followed, again a little better than before, but not totally happy. Getting off that formation spooked the hell out of me, not being a boulderer and hating top-outs and jumps. I got down a different way from Michelle, and suffered a bunch of scratches for my efforts.

On Sunday we were fried and it was even hotter. First we checked out Touch & Go, which is Michelle's goal. Then we looked at Double Dip and Stichter Quits, which I legitimately should be able to lead, but was too spooked to try. We then headed into Real Hidden Valley to maybe climb on the Thin Wall, but that was still in the sun. Finally we drove out to Split Rock, to play on Future Games wall. But Michelle was, understandably, not feeling into leading. I totally commiserated, as that was exactly how I'd felt on Sunday during the #jtreetweetup, just done! So we thought we'd drop a toprope onto Invisibility Lessons, but we weren't sure the rope would reach (and this area is not covered by my guidebook, so no way to check), and the anchor looked like a total pain to extend over the edge. Finally we gave up and called it a day, and filed all the routes we'd seen as future projects.

It was a great weekend, despite the fact that, technically, we only got in three climbs. Usually I'm up for sharing the leading load, so it was really miserable for me to not be able to. At the same time, though, the shoulder held. I iced it on Saturday night and by Sunday morning the twinges I'd been feeling were definitely gone. That was great. Also, the partnership with Michelle is very new, and her familiarity with the area non-existent. So arguably it was a good thing to end on an up note, having challenged but not broken either of us. I have a long way to go to get back to the strength and stamina of last fall, and I'm hoping that my lead head will follow once I see I can climb things in a style that is also consistent with leading. At the moment, I don't like the way I'm climbing, I don't like that I feel out of juice, and I hate my friggin' shoes! So, onward, lots of work to be done to get back.

Climbing in Greece in Summer 2009

2010-06-07T18:03:00.001-07:00

Racking up in the Zode
Originally uploaded by slampoud

A belated post on what we climbed during last year's trip to Greece.

The trip basically had two parts. In the first part we went to Kalamitsi, a beach in Chalkidiki where my parents have a tiny cabin. I figured, since the rock there is granite, we should be able to climb, or at least boulder some. But what I discovered was that the quality of the rock wasn't nearly as good as I remembered, and the salt and sand surrounding it didn't make things too easy either.

While Ben and I spent a couple days in Kalamitsi, my parents visited their boat, which they moor in Porto Koufo. I really wanted to talk them into taking us to Kartalia, the promontory at the tip of Sithonia, where I had heard there was some steep limestone climbing. It's one of my favorite places in the world, and I wanted to show it to Ben, so that, even if we couldn't figure out how to approach the climbs, it wouldn't be a waste of time. But there was quite a bit of wind, and we never went.

Instead, we noticed that the west side of the entrance to Porto Koufo is itself a steep limestone wall. We took the zodiac out and did some deep water soloing there for a couple days. We found a couple bolted routes, but they were heading into a chimney that was absolutely covered in batshit. Finally we decided that we thought we could see a nice trad line up the wall. We loaded up the zode, I rowed our asses all the way out, we anchored the zode with a hex (really!) and Ben led off. When he got maybe 15 or 20 feet up he realized things were a lot more broken than they looked from below, so he bailed. I rowed our asses back in.

Stefani and the Kakkalos refuge
Originally uploaded by slampoud

After that it was time to hit the mountains. We humped the ropes and rack, but thankfully no camping gear, to the Kakalos refuge, which is the main climbers' refuge on the Oropedio Mouson. We went up Anathema, which is a slightly steeper route than the alternative, and it was a bitch! Of course, in my current condition I couldn't even do an hour of that hike, let alone with a pack, so I marvel, in retrospect, at the fact that I made it.

The people at the refuge were amazing, and a good reason to go back, by themselves. I had printed some beta from routes.gr, but these guys were real connoisseurs of the surrounding climbs, and had lots of additional beta to share, so that worked out really well.

The next day we climbed the Comici/Escher route, which was the first technical route ever to be climbed on Stefani. It was ridiculously easy, probably 5.3 at most, but worth doing, since we really had no feel for route finding or the quality of the rock on Olympus. We realized that the challenge in the easier routes is really not the moves, but rather rockfall. The moves on easy routes in this type of chossy limestone are, in fact, quite boring. There are tons of incut edges, and you're always facing the rock and moving up like a crab. It's nothing like climbing granite, where, aside from slab climbing, every single move is different, even at low difficulty grades.

Halfway up Stefani
Originally uploaded by slampoud

The next day we were looking for more of a challenge, so we asked around and the guys pointed us to Ahladi, another route on the front side of Stefani, to the left of C/E. We got to the base and decided to solo the first & last pitches, since using the rope just dislodged pebbles and pissed us off. I led the second and fourth pitches, and Ben led the third. Ben managed to place gear in such annoying places that I was cursing for the most part on the pitch that I followed, and I had to leave a hex behind. The most memorable part of the climb was definitely the fourth pitch, which involves a really neat traverse. Apparently people call it "the pilgrimage", because beginners often get scared and gripped, and find themselves groveling across the ledge instead of walking a little lower and keeping their hands high on the ledge. In any event, it was easy but more memorable than the rest of the choss. Ahladi was tons and tons of fun, but definitely not a challenge.

We had originally discussed also climbing Mati, a route on the other side of Stefani that day, but Ben was feeling very "accomplished", so we went back to the refuge and chilled while watching a couple of the guys open a new route on Stefani through binoculars. The next day we descended, this time via the Zonaria and the Zolotas refuge. My knees were killing me and the whole thing was abso-fucking-lutely miserable. And that was it for climbing in Greece.

Let's celebrate!

2010-05-31T18:31:00.001-07:00

Today I went out to San Ysidro with Theresa and Jamilah. We threw a toprope on Oranguhang, the stuff to the right and the stuff to the left of it. For me this was primarily an opportunity to test my new shoulder. It seems to have held, but we'll know for sure tomorrow. It was so nice to get out!

Oh how the mighty have fallen

2010-05-11T11:11:00.000-07:00

Being injured sucks so much. I am an endless fountain of complaints.

I went out to New Jack City this weekend, mostly to get out of Santa Barbara and see my sport climbing friends. I climbed two 5.8's that are usually my lead warmups, and onsighted an easy 9. The shoulder isn't that painful anymore so it was really hard to stay off the rock, but the experience of re-tearing the rotator cuff in March was enough to deter me.

I also got to meet Jack, the guy who set all the routes and after whom the place is named. He gave us the unofficial news that the BLM is planning on developing the site for R.V. camping, so they're putting in a proper road, campsites and toilets. And then, after a while, they're opening the canyon to windfarm development. Apparently, even though it's not optimally located for that, the fact that it's remote, hence the wind turbines won't ruin anybody's view, is a big draw to developers. So NJC will be temporarily closed to climbers during the campsite development, and then maybe again, possibly permanently, for the wind development, if they decide to do it right by the crags. The temporary closure nobody cares about anyway, since it's about to get hotter than hell in the middle of the Mojave, so climbing won't be possible again until September. The wind thing I just don't see. Who would put a turbine at the base of a chossy cliff?

By the way, Jack is a real character! I got into a conversation with him where I was defending NJC from the term "chosspile", which I've seen climbing mags using for it. But we ended up disagreeing, since he embraces that term wholeheartedly. He's all in favor of developing sport routes in chossy areas. His reasons are that good rock is usually not steep enough for his tastes, and I think he also finds it a little uninteresting if little bits aren't raining on him. I think of myself as primarily a trad climber, so the notion of chossiness goes hand in hand with the potential for gear pulling. From the sport route developer's perspective, though, that's not a consideration. NJC is supremely safely bolted. I watched Jack dance up a 12 and then heckle his girlfriend up the same climb, and I have to say, it was better than TV, better than the movies. A real character, I tell you!

Testing the TR-solo rig

2010-04-15T10:24:00.000-07:00

Things have been quiet around here, since I re-injured my shoulder just over three weeks ago and haven't been climbing at all. I'm silently screaming in frustration.

On Saturday I ventured out, with a new climbing partner about whom I'm really excited, and checked out the Gibraltar area. We wanted to play on Lower Gibraltar, but there were people already climbing there. We checked out Gibraltar Rock, but the South face TR's were already occupied. We went up to Toxic Waste Wall, but the rock quality sketched us out -- it got badly fried in last year's fire. So we ended up at Crag Full o' BoomBoom, where Michelle led everything in style. It was chill. I TRed Tuco, and it didn't feel that great, which made me a little sad.

Yesterday I was going stir crazy dealing with work, so I decided to pop up to Lower Gibraltar and test my TR-solo system.

Before I get into my current system, here's a little about my first attempt about a month ago. I originally thought that I could TR-solo with my guide in autoblock mode + a prussik backup. I've used this setup before in low 5th class terrain (gullies) when a rope was stuck or there was some other reason why I needed to go back up to my anchor. But when I tried to use it at Lower Gibraltar, which is a reasonably steep dihedral and a steep face left of it, I realized a couple things. First of all, I shouldn't have used both strands of the rope. In fact I didn't need to, because the rope was fixed at the anchor, so I could've used just one. That was just operator error on my part. Second, since the rope obviously does not feed freely through the guide, the loop of rope that accumulates above the guide is a real problem. I kept stepping on the rope and getting tangled up. This is a problem with both a single and a double strand setup. I hadn't noticed it before on the low angle terrain, but in the steep terrain it was a definite issue. Third, the weight of the rope loop makes feeding it through the guide really hard, sometimes requiring both hands. The prussik was actually the most pleasant part of this system...

So my original plan wasn't going to work. I studied ascender devices and TR-solo resources, and decided the device I wanted to use was Petzl's microcender. I wanted a device that didn't have sharp teeth in the camming section, and that could, ideally, be used for other tasks as well, but would be primarily for TR-solo and should be bombproof for that. The microcender fit the bill, can also be used for hauling, and it weighs about half as much as the alternatives. That probably means it'll wear out twice as fast, but that remains to be seen. Note that it's not indicated for lead-solo or even TR falls with slack in the rope. I think it's meant to work best on fixed, static lines, but it seems like a lot of people use it on their regular dynamic ropes. It's a gorgeous little device, that's very simple to set up and break down.

At first my plan was to have the microcender set up on my belay loop, on one strand, and a prussik backup going to my belay loop, at eye level, either on the same strand or the other strand. When I set that up I realized that the prussik was now the annoyance in the system, because it was impacting how the rope was feeding into the microcender, and also the loop it made was flopping around, threatening to get tangled up with the microcender. I'm especially aware of the possibility of something snagging the microcender's handle and keeping it from doing its job, so having a sling flopping around in the vicinity was a definite no no.

After tying in short, setting up the system and taking a bunch of test falls on the microcender I was ready to trust it alone. I knew that the rope has to be weighted a little in order to feed through the microcender by itself, but I didn't know how much. The pitch I was climbing is only about 1/4 length of rope up, so I piled the loose rope at the bottom of the climb onto the end, hoping that the weight of half the 10mm rope would be sufficient. For the first half of the climb, it wasn't, so I had to occasionally help the rope through the device. I could do that single-handed so it wasn't a big hindrance on 5.8 terrain. For the second half of the climb the weight was enough and the rope fed through just fine. People have suggested using a quart sized water bottle as a weight, or fixing the line on the ground, both of which are great ideas if you're planning to return to the ground. I was climbing at a place where you rap down from your anchor to climb, so I wanted to be able to pull up the rope behind me with no snags.

I have come up with only one way to switch from microcender-belay to rappelling with my guide at the top of the climb (I wanted to do one more lap, so I was headed back down). That is to tie directly into the anchor, unweight and remove the microcender, then set up the guide for rap. It seems like there should be some way to go directly from the microcender to the guide, but I don't see what that is. If I set up the guide below the microcender, there is no way to remove the microcender because it's loaded (it's not like a grigri, where the lever unloads the cam). So I need a point of leverage above the microcender to load my weight onto. Setting up the guide above the microcender is obviously not an option, since my weight is on the rope. Thus it seems that the only way to switch to rapelling is to offload to a point (anchor or prussik) above the microcender, remove the microcender, then set up the rappel. Interesting...

In summary the system seems to work. I'm not entirely happy about using a single device. A possibly better setup would be to have one microcender at chest level and one at the belay loop, similar to Steph Davis' setup (except she uses mini-traxions, which have sharp teeth). On this test day I didn't really enjoy myself climbing, both because I was stressed out by all this rigging, but also because my shoulder is completely messed up. Time will tell if knowing how to set this up will enable some fun for me in the future, or whether it will prove too stressful to use regularly. They say that roped soloing is another level again in the mind game that is climbing, and I agree. My stomach was in knots both times I worked on this stuff. I don't even try something unless I've spent hours researching it and mentally working it out, and, despite that confidence that I have the principles fully in command, it's stressful to tie in for a TR-solo. We'll see how it feels next time...

Update: My friend Rick has written a blogpost, adding his observations to my thoughts on roped-soloing.

Riverside Quarry

2010-03-16T12:12:00.000-07:00

I've been dying to go to the Riverside Quarry, since everyone I know raves about it. The opportunity presented itself this weekend, when a bunch of the San Diego folks were planning to drive up, so I ditched family (who knows what I owe for that?) and drove down. It's about a 2.5 hour drive, if you don't get lost getting off the 101 to the 60 ;-)

The location is a man-made abandoned granite quarry. There is shade in the morning and sun in the afternoon. The invitation said only those comfortable leading 5.10s need apply. That, technically, is a sticking point for me, as I can only reliably lead 10a without falls, but the other attendees were friends, so they overlooked my shortcomings.

One of the fun aspects of the day is that we got to watch the main developer of the area set a bunch of routes. Apparently there was a section of rock that already had routes on it, but that was a little loose, so they rapped from above, pried it loose with crowbars and dropped the loose section. There was a lot of debris! So while we were there climbing, this route setter was on rap from above cleaning the rock, chipping holds and bolting. Very interesting!

We warmed up on a 5.10b, followed by a 10d, another 10b, two rounds on one 11a and another 11a, all on toprope, for me. I flailed on everything but the 10d, which I cruised and everyone else fell on. Wtf? It was awkward and balancey, which I guess must be my style. Either way, it was a very very fun day of pushing my limits, and I can't wait to go back.

On the minus side, I'm starting to be not that fond of my women's mythos. They seem to have a thicker sole than my old men's pair had, and as a result they don't feel very sensitive.

Matilija Wall

2010-03-11T15:52:00.001-08:00

This picture is taken from the junction of Hwy 33 and S Matilija Rd, i.e. the road to the Matilija Hot Springs/Sanctuary.

And here's the google maps satellite view. It's the thingy casting a really big shadow in the center of the map.

View Larger Map

Friends tell me that this is the Matilija Wall. Apparently the most famous route on it is the 5.9 Chouinard-Bossier about which there is some information here. There used to be access via a small road called Camino Cielo, but that's been blocked by a private land owner. The approach from the dam is apparently choked in poison oak. We'll have to figure out some way to get there...

Chuggin' along

2010-03-08T15:56:00.001-08:00

Me on the Chube #3
Originally uploaded by slampoud

I really love this photo Dima took, so I'm linking it for no other reason. My blog, my rules :-D

Well, I'm done with PT and I took a whole week of just doing yoga and then I headed back to the gym. I've met up with someone I got started climbing two years ago who stuck with it, and that made me feel really good. Also met a potential future partner that has me really stoked. A couple gals and I did an out of town trip to a gym two weekends ago, which was a blast. All in all, I'm coming back slowly. Having someone to "mentor" (and I don't like the presumptuousness of that word, so I'm going to explain that my sort of mentoring is simply acknowledging that I have more experience and therefore some information to impart to the mentee, and that's about it) is a really nice motivation to be consistent and show up at the gym with a positive attitude. I'm trying to keep up the PT exercises and starting to add some cardio before climbing so I waste less time warming up on the wall. I'm also icing religiously. Not eating all that well, but one at a time. Oh and I switched to sitting on a balance ball instead of my desk chair after a particularly long day of 8 hours of hacking reduced me to tears from the back pain. Yeah, chuggin' along. I'll get there.

Misery

2010-02-23T15:40:00.000-08:00

Probably my worst character trait is that I don't remember the bad times. This doesn't just go for climbing, it goes for everything, but because I seem to get into these cycles of strength followed by misery a lot when it comes to climbing, I feel the need to document the phenomenon as a cautionary tale to myself.

To make a long story short, the last month or so has been one of misery. It all began with an overzealous traverse-bouldering session over lunch on a weekday. Someone walked into the gym and wanted to take a belay test, so I offered to help. I was halfway through my workout, so by the time I was done helping with their test I'd cooled down. I figured I'd better get warm again, so I ended up climbing, by myself, longer than usual. I gave up because at some point I was doing a weird move on the bouldering wall and my shoulders felt tweaked. I figured, OK, I've gone longer than usual, maybe I'm tired, I should quit. And I did. In the next few hours the most horrific pain ever congealed all over my shoulders, back and neck. It was massive, it was burning and it was AWFUL! I credit my own stupidity for what turned out to be a massive multi-muscle cramp: not bringing a water bottle, and therefore not hydrating during the whole session, and the longer-than-usual session. Tsk tsk, I should have known better.

I hammered myself on ibuprofen, went to the doc, got 4 weeks of PT and generally did things right, and I'm fine now. Fine meaning pain free. But the process was miserable, and where I am now is miserable. I hadn't worked out nearly enough since the move in December (and the NSF meeting in January, and parents visiting in February ... you get the picture), but this forced break ... well it broke me. All those gains in upper body and finger strength are gone. All that pre-December confidence is gone. I now hurt in 4 places after climbing. I need more ice-packs than I have! And the fact that all I have at my disposal to train back up is the UCSB gym, whose dissertation-related cooties I haven't gotten over... that just adds to my misery. I hate how small that gym is, because I get bored too fast when I'm traversing on my own. I hate how the routes there are set -- I need to write up my route-setting rant someday. I hate the pace that having to tie in with a figure 8 enforces (i.e. it slows me down between climbs and my muscles never get hot enough). I guess you could say I'm down in the dumps right now. I hope it's some sort of post-parent winter blues ;-)

A guest post: Gender & climbing

2010-01-29T09:08:00.000-08:00

Hi, my name is Kegan Allee and I'm a PhD student in Sociology at the University of California in Santa Barbara. My dissertation combines two great loves of mine: gender studies and climbing. I'm looking for female climbers to interview for my research. I'm trying to get as many different perspectives as possible with respect to experience, level of climbing, etc. I'm particularly interested in how women use their bodies and their perspectives on risk taking. The interviews, which have been lasting between 1-2 hours, have all been conducted in person so far, but I am open to doing phone interviews as well. I can drive to meet people as well. My goal is to produce scholarship that will be interesting to both the climbing community and the academic world, and which explores the similarities as well as differences between female and male climbers. Please feel free to send me an email (allee at umail dot ucsb dot edu) if you are interested in participating in my research or if you'd simply like more information about my project. Thanks in advance!

Note from the editor ... ahem ... Teri: I did my interview with Kegan this week, and it was fun and got me thinking about all sorts of interesting stuff! I highly recommend the experience, and I'm happy to discuss it if anyone has questions. I should point out that you may choose to remain anonymous (or have a pseudonym) in the reporting of the results, and that Kegan will run the transcript by you, to ensure it meets with your approval and that nothing you said has been misconstrued.

A day in JTree

2010-01-18T15:08:00.001-08:00

Sunset Drama - Denouement
Originally uploaded by slampoud

D and I took off midday on Saturday and headed out to JTree, where Dima and Karen had grabbed the last available camping spot in Ryan. The sunset was mindblowing, the dinner amazing, and we got to use our dual Mountain Hardwear Cloud's Rest setup, which worked really well.

The gang
Originally uploaded by slampoud

The next day we got a midmorning start to Barker Dam, where I was hoping to get some time to work on Gunsmoke (having missed the opportunity during the #jtreetweetup). We enjoyed walking around and taking pics, and by the time we got to Gunsmoke there were a whole bunch of other people playing on it, so we picked a spot with some easier problems and clambered. The most memorable part for me was getting to work on the Chube, a V2 right-slanting crack. I have a pretty serious fear of being high off the ground unroped, so I avoid high boulder problems in general. Even without topping out (which I doubt I'm capable of, anyway), the Chube was higher than any outdoor problem I've worked. I really enjoyed the little bugger! I hadn't expected that.

Dima on the Eye 8
Originally uploaded by slampoud

When we got hungry, we headed back to the cars and ate, and then returned to the Intersection Rock parking lot to try our luck at the Eye (5.3). I led it, making three placements, with D on belay, and then Dima followed me. The Eye is a very dramatic-looking route, and, though it's an easy climb, it has many elements, like awkward moves and a little exposure, that make it exciting to a beginner.It was starting to get cold and blustery by the time we were done, so we called it a day for the outdoors and reconvened at Crossroads for some food.

Weekend fun at Echo

2010-01-12T13:18:00.000-08:00

I've been trying to find some strong women to climb with, mostly because it's a form of climbing partnership I've never tried that I think would work well. So when the chance to head out to Echo Cliffs with Eileen (aka @rockgrrl), who designed the awesome bag I take to work every day, presented itself, I jumped on it. Ben and I had visited Echo last May, and it had been hot and oppressive. We'd ticked a few climbs in the Grotto and retreated. My friend Max, an excellent Italian climber, had raved about the place, but we hadn't had a chance to find the climbs he'd been raving about. In retrospect, they would have been in the sun, so it's just as well. Eileen, Kelly, Peter and I headed to the Java wall where we were joined by Matt. It was really crowded, but patience paid off and pretty soon we were nearly alone and enjoying ourselves. I followed Morning Glory (9) to get my head straight, then cruised Bushwhacked (8) and a B-line (10a). I was fascinated by Black Tide (9) on a black streak in a corner, and can't wait to go back and give it a go. It was a bit hot, and I was with new people so I didn't especially try to tick the maximum number of routes possible. Also Pete could use a ride back to Oxnard early, so I obliged. In any case, I can't wait to go back and jump on Black Tide, and maybe also work the 11s on the Java wall if someone can set the toprope. Eileen just posted a quick post with pics!

Request for Beta: Mt. Erasmus in Alberta, Canada

2010-01-05T13:31:00.001-08:00

Mt. Erasmus
Originally uploaded by slampoud

Last fall I was in Banff for a conference, and then I took a couple days off and backpacked the trail to Glacier Lake. Just as you approach the lake, off to the right is this absolutely stunning mountain, which my map identified as Mt. Erasmus. It's really steep and seems to have all sorts of imposing dihedrals.

I'm going back to Banff in September 2011 and I thought that might be a good opportunity to try to climb the beast. So I've been searching for information, and, surprisingly, there's very very little to be found. My friend Alex helped me locate a reference to an ascent of the north face by Tom Thomas and Gil McCormick. There's is also a trip report on the Ayers/Oberlin route on bivouac.com, but we don't have the necessary membership to access it.

If you have a membership that could get us access to the above TR, or know anything about the mountain, or could put me in touch with someone who does, I would be very grateful! There are at least two very over-excited Southern Californians roaring to climb it!

Request for Beta: Thorn Point

2010-01-05T13:13:00.001-08:00

Thorn Pt from Sespe Creek trail
Originally uploaded by slampoud

Alli and I recently went on a hike on the Sespe Creek trail, heading East from the Piedra Blanca trailhead. Since I have a new camera with a crazy zoom, I was able to satisfy my curiosity by taking close-ups of a crag Ben and I had noticed on that hike before. As seen from just past the trailhead, I believe that this is Thorn Point. It looks like a big white slab.

Thorn Pt from Sespe Creek trail #2
Originally uploaded by slampoud

As you continue down the trail, though, its side becomes visible, and you can tell that the angle of the slab is quite low. Nevertheless, the stuff on the side of the slab, which in shadow in this second picture, looks like it might be tall enough to offer some climbing possibilities.

The map reveals that there is a fire watchtower at the top of Thorn Pt, and a ~3 mile trail takes you there from its back side. So I'm thinking I'll grab camping gear and scout it out, and, if it looks promising, come back and climb it some time. Does anyone have any information on the place?

Playing catchup on holiday posts -- Malibu Creek

2010-01-05T12:00:00.000-08:00

I hadn't been to Malibu Creek since I was a beginner last year, so when my San Diego sport climbing buddies invited me, I was definitely game. As it turns out, the drive is only just over an hour long from SB, which makes it the closest quality crag to home. When I arrived at the park entrance, I stopped to pay the fee and stalled the car. Then I started driving away before getting my change back. On the 20 second drive to the parking lot I decided I probably wasn't in any kind of mental shape to be leading -- residual alcohol poisoning from New Year's Eve? Making the decision in advance helped keep the rest of the day enjoyable. My mentor from San Diego led everything and I seconded. We did a 9, an 8, a couple 10a's and a 10b. I was tempted to try the 11a on the Apes wall, but it was already getting dark by then. The next day my forearms were pretty pumped, which was new. I can't think of the last time I had sore forearms a whole day after climbing! In any case, I got my gym membership yesterday, so I'll work on remedying that.

Playing catchup on holiday posts -- Christmas

2010-01-05T11:52:00.000-08:00

Christmas was unexpectedly awesome this year! Dan took 4 days off and we hit the Eastern Sierra. I was all for camping at the pinyon forest, but he doesn't have a winter down bag, and my 4 season tent is really a 1.5 person tent, which gets old if I run into real weather and have to not touch the walls. I have a plan for turning our 2-person 3-season into a 4-season, but in this case, we decided to be posh and get a room. After a bit of looking around, I decided we should stay at Tom's Place Lodge, halfway in-between Bishop (where my heart lives year round) and Mammoth, where Dan's interest in skiing was likely to be focused.

Dan wanted to get some skiing in. I, on the other hand, have never skied in my life. So I figured, we'd best get that out of the way and go on the first day. We headed up to Mammoth, rented skis, got lift tickets for three beginner slopes, and Dan taught me how to A-frame, make turns and all that good stuff. He started me out with poles, instead of without, which I'm told is the custom, and I think, in retrospect that was a mistake. When we tried a slope that was half a level of difficulty harder than the bunny hill before it, I got going too fast for comfort. Climber that I am, I figured I'd better fall. And fall I did, but I forgot one leg behind me and something on the back of my left knee (the one that messed up our trip to Bart Dome in summer? that one) popped. Nevermind. Got back up to try it again, same story. Fall I did, and this time my left wrist (the one that spent a few weeks in a brace over the summer? that one) got wrenched by the pole, which I tried to use to control my speed. At that point I decided I'd probably be paying for those two re-injuries for weeks, so it might be a good time to stop. Dan did a couple more runs and we called it a day, with me deciding that in skiing it's safer to keep going until you can slow down than to fall.

We had a great Christmas dinner and whole bunch more fun, which I won't go into details about. What does belong in a climbing blog, however, was the fact that I took us down the gully descent into Owen's River Gorge with snow and ice on the ground. We had no poles, and in retrospect, probably shouldn't have gone. It was quite slippery.

On our last day we decided to break up the driving a bit by stopping to climb at the Alabama Hills. We went to the corridors and did a couple really easy slab climbs on very very bad granite, and an arete 5.6 that I'd been warned was "spicy", but somehow hadn't registered the fact. It was a little worse than spicy, in my opinion. I'm pretty sure I've never had to take on a 6 before! In any case, it was a blast, and I'm stoked to have the "Bishop Area Rock climbs" guide book as a result!

New Jack City again

2009-12-29T20:48:00.000-08:00

A couple weekends ago I hit NJC, planning to meet up with my friend Francis and his peeps. Indeed I found plenty of SD meetup folk when I arrived, but Francis was nowhere in sight. I proceeded to climb with Bob at the Boyscout Wall. I led an 8, and then we toproped 10d, 10b, 10a and 9. They were all great climbs. I flailed on the 10d, but didn't fall on the rest of them, although the 9 felt a lot harder than any 9 has a right to feel. Also I froze my butt off. Late in the day we headed over to Raven, where, lo and behold, Francis was. He put me on a toprope on Candy-O, which I had foolishly said looked cool during our previous visit. I found a way to bypass the lower crux (going left), and fought out the top crux. After half a dozen falls I made it to the chains! That's pretty good, given that I've never even been on a 11b climb in the past.

Gaps

2009-12-15T19:32:00.000-08:00

It's incredible ... the gaps that sometimes gape open in this blog really make me think.

The last month has been a whirlwind of activity, as I moved from San Diego, land of awesome granite, to Santa Barbara, land of shitty sandstone. I haven't had a chance to climb in 3 weeks, and I'm sure it will show immediately when I next try to climb. Santa Barbara has three, but really two, climbing walls. There's the one at the Rec Cen at UCSB, which is newer. There's an outdoor wall at the Goleta Valley Athletic Club, which I fully intend to check out, since Dan has a membership there through work. Then there's one at my favorite store in town, Santa Barbara outfitters, but I've never seen a proper route set on it, ever. This third one makes me sad and I wish I could do something about it...

So the gaps I was talking about, they're not even ones in the last three weeks. I'm referring to two or three climbing trips in October and November that went altogether un-logged. First there was Halloween in JTree, with the San Diego meetup folks. Then there was the #jtreetweetup, with my new internet friends. Both were different from the sort of trip I'm used to taking, and I think both went un-logged and un-remarked largely because of that. I haven't digested them, and they feel a bit fragile and special, and I don't want to go there. So I won't. The second trip, in any case, has been "reported" on by the aforementioned friends.

In other news, I finally caved, and during last week's Metolius promotion I ordered the set of free TCUs. That gives me a fairly complete rack, except for the mega sizes. I can't wait to use them!

Emergency New Jack City send-fest

2009-11-19T22:28:00.000-08:00

Today Francis, Cecilia and I made a quick jaunt out to New Jack City. Francis led before me, so all the draws were placed for me, but I led everything. We climbed in the Raven area:
Custom Tailored (5.7)
Step Across (10a)
Welcome to New Jack City (10a)
Love On-Sight (10c)
I'd led the first one a couple times before, and TRed the second. The third was new to me. The last one I took a fall on while at the second bolt. I lowered and restarted, finishing it clean. The start is a bitch! Overall a really fun day, and great start to my "leading 10 in 2010" campaign.

At Crag Full of Dynamite with Dan

2009-10-27T15:57:00.000-07:00

This Sunday Dan took some time out of his busy schedule and we went climbing. This was technically his second time climbing ever -- the first time was bouldering at Lizard's Mouth a couple months ago.

He'd picked up shoes before our last outing, and last week I'd outfitted him with a helmet and harness package. Hilariously, he was most excited about the chalk bag!

I threw the climbing gear into the back of the Porsche and we drove up Gibraltar road to West Camino Cielo and Crag Full of Dynamite. CFoD is where, just over a year ago, I'd done my very first lead, and it's an uncomplicated spot, with zero approach and routes whose top anchors you can see. However, I did not remember quite how crappy the rock was. In any case, I instructed Dan on the basics of lead and TR belaying, commands and all that good stuff, and then led "he who double-crosses me and leaves me alone, he knows nothing about Tuco, nothing", a 5.7. It was harder than I remembered, mostly because of rock quality. It seems the more experienced I get, the more perturbed I am by chossy rock. In any case, Dan jumped on it and did really really well. He had all the normal issues with not knowing how much to trust friction and how exactly to use the shoes, but he's got mad balance, and a clear head and he made it to the top. His Achilles tendons were bothering him at the end, but he totally escaped the standard beginner issue of over-gripping and pumping out. I then led up the Ecstasy of Gold, the 5.8 that's two routes to the left of Tuco, and Dan followed about half of it, with a harder start than I'd done. Pretty damnn good for a beginner.

We had a really good time. We were in the shade, and there was nobody there but us, and we took it really slow and easy. I only wish we'd taken pictures...

Replacing the harness, completing the rack & outfitting the man

2009-10-20T10:35:00.000-07:00

This month has been one of climbing-related expenses, and it's a little scary how much money has gone into this.

After much hand-wringing I decided to replace my years-old Mammut harness with a BD Chaos. I tried it out at Owen's this weekend, and it's fantastic for sport climbing, but, obviously, the real test is going to be trad multipitch.

I also decided it's time to start building a more respectable rack. Technically, I have everything I need: #1 and #2 C4 camalots, a series of 7 forged friends, a set of nuts and pink, red and brown tricams. But the forged friends are a bit ... shall we say antiquated? And until now I've been relying on Ben's gear to supplement my camalots, nuts and tricams. So it's time to replace the forged friends with something actually usable. To that end I've ordered camalot C4s in the #0.3-0.75 range. I'll need a #3 at some point, but for now I can use my largest friend for that.

Finally, I wanted to outfit Dan with rock climbing gear, so that he'd be able to belay me and follow on basic multi-pitch. So I got him a harness package and helmet. I'm super excited about teaching him!

Owen's River Gorge, version 2.0

2009-10-19T16:18:00.000-07:00

I spent this Friday + weekend climbing at Owen's River Gorge with Ben. It was my first time back since last winter, so I was really looking forward to this visit. I've been training both endurance and strength in the gym, and climbing alongside some phenomenally stylish people, so I think my technique has improved a great deal, too. My objective this time around was to convince myself I'm a solid 5.9 sport leader, and maybe try to probe my limits on lead a little. I succeeded at the first, but not the second. Oh well, next time!

Here's my ticklist for this trip. Everything was onsight, on lead, casual, except the very last route on Sunday, which was clean on TR.

Friday: High Seas (7), Crowd Pleaser (8), Clip Jr (6), Welcome to the Gorge (9)
Saturday: Enter the dragon (8), China Doll (8), Heart of the Sun (9), Drill Sergeant (8)
Sunday: 5.8 not in my book, at Solarium between Sendero Luminoso and Menace II Society, Child of Light (9), Low Octane (9), High Octane (10d, TR)

Low and High Octane are variations on one 40-50 foot route, really, and they're a little obscure, so I want to call particular attention to them. They're at the Pit Stop area, in the Lower Gorge, at the top of a sand/scree slope. The sun never sees these problems, so they're good for hot days, and they see very little traffic. Being a no-chalk climber myself, I was especially excited to find these problems completely un-chalked, totally virginal. I led the 9, Low Octane, which is the variation on the right. It has some wonderful balance-y moves. Then we toproped the 10d, which is really a slightly longer boulder problem start, on the left. I think it's overrated as a 10d (indeed, the new edition of the guide may have re-rated it, I don't know for sure), since I wouldn't rate it more than a V2. In any case, I TRed it clean, and given that I was able to shake out at big juggy holds, I think I would have no problem leading it. So it can't be 10d. Either way, great problems, both of them, on great, un-slimed rock.

This weekend was a blast!

Training goals for fall and winter

2009-09-13T16:23:00.000-07:00

We all know by now that my big looming goal is to lead all three pitches of Igor Unchained, in the Needles, next spring. So I have to figure out how I'm going to practice my crack climbing skills in the meantime, and what else I'm going to try to accomplish this fall and winter. My friend Sam's blogpost exposed me to this great Summit Post article about the JTree Crack Climbing Workshop. It seems like a good idea to try to knock off most of the cracks up to 5.9 on that list. I've already followed a bunch, but I don't think I've led any. I'm going to also have to find a way to incorporate Mt. Woodson, which is, oh, two hours closer to home than JTree, in my crack climbing regimen.

As for indoor and sport leading goals, I think 2010 can reasonably be expected to be the "lead 5.10 in 2010" year.

This will be fun!

Patagucci

2009-08-24T19:55:00.001-07:00

Aug 23, 2009
Originally uploaded by slampoud

In spite of the fact that an employee that was helping me called these Patagucci, I caved and bought the Patagonia Huckleberry approach shoes I've been craving forever. My 5.11 Prodigies have never been quite right, mostly because they're too wide for my foot, but, more importantly, I wanted to be able to take off my shoes on the planes to Greece, and my Prodigies stink really really badly. So Pataguccis it is. I ended up with a men's 41.5. I don't know that they are any different from the women's, but they fit me perfectly, and I especially appreciated the half-Euro size increments they're available in, because I was able to size them so precisely. So far I'm thrilled with them.

So, I've made it to Greece, and the gear appears to have made it, too, though I haven't unpacked the duffel to see if it's all intact. The weather here is insane: there are huge thunderstorms that have me seriously concerned that going up Olympus isn't going to be practical. One of the drawbacks of the Huckleberries is that they're not Gore-texed, so I have to get some waterproofing spray to put on them while they're still clean.

Fingertrippin'

2009-08-20T08:37:00.001-07:00

Fingertrippin'
Originally uploaded by slampoud

Last weekend was my first time climbing outside after about a month long absence. Because my left hand had been in a brace, my grip strength has significantly diminished. I tried leading a 9 in the gym about a week ago and seriously scared my belayer. It wasn't good. So last weekend was going to be the reintroduction to outside climbing and leading, and we needed an easy route to do it on. On Tahquitz, fingertrip is one of the most highly rated easy routes, so, provided there wasn't a traffic jam getting on it, we planned on jumping on that. We were going to be joined by a colleague of mine, who climbs, but hadn't done multi-pitch before.

I led the first pitch, which involves uneven cracks and a bunch of liebacking. I went really slowly at first, but by the end I was feeling fine. Ben led the next pitch, and managed to get off route from fingertrip and onto the fingertrip traverse. He made a hanging belay just before the traverse and brought us up. I led the traverse and then up to lunch ledge. Ben finished the route going right, up the 5.6 cracks, instead of the slab to the left, as we'd done to finish angels' fright. In the end, the descent was the most taxing part of the day, and my calves were burning the next day.

Sunday found us in a super lazy mood. We scoped out some boulders near where we'd crashed, and then headed up to the bouldering off Black mountain road. Ivan got in some practice on his V4 project, and we called it a day.

Captain Kirk, you fool!

2009-08-10T17:18:00.001-07:00

In Star Trek 5, The Final Frontier, Captain Kirk is climbing a mountain:

And then William Shatner gives the "what was I thinking" talk:

And then it turns into a techno song:

Wrist trouble

2009-07-22T15:50:00.001-07:00

this sucks!
Originally uploaded by slampoud

I finally went to the doc this morning to have my knee looked at, and figured while I was there I should have my wrist checked out, too. The knee turns out to be a muscle sprain of some sort, since all my tendons and ligaments are intact. Yay for that!

The wrist, however, is another story. This business started with me noticing I couldn't do a down dog without my left wrist hurting, in late January. So I iced it after workouts, and it got better for a while, but over the last month, as I've been leading more and more overhanging 10s in the gym, it's been getting progressively worse. Hence, I talked to the doc. They took 6 xrays, and in a couple of them it was looking like maybe the scaphoid is fractured. If that's indeed the case, since it's been over 6 months and things are only getting worse, I won't be able to avoid surgery. So to rule it out, the doc's ordered a CT, which my insurance is going to take a week or so to arrange. In the meantime, the doc insisted I be stopped from doing further damage. His exact words were "I'm going to stop you", and when I started to complain he laid down the law. So until the CT helps determine what's what, I'm in a spica brace.

Believe me when I tell you, I am pissed! I'm not sure at whom yet, but I do know that if this proves to be a break, which I somehow gave myself, missed how and when, and then ignored for 6 months, then I am going to become the focus of this anger!

A weekend at Bart Dome

2009-07-14T21:29:00.001-07:00

At the start of the trail
Originally uploaded by slampoud

This past weekend Ben and I went on a trip to Bart Dome that he'd been planning for the better part of a year. Bart Dome is in the Domelands Wilderness, in the Southern Sierra, and it's the Southern Sierra Climbers' Association "home crag". It's about 5 pitches tall and features crack, dike and slab climbs between 5.7 and 5.12. Ben had been there once or twice before and loved it, so he wanted to show it to me. In the past, he'd followed "Follow the rainbow", a 5.9, and this time he wanted to lead it (or swing leads with me, we never got to deciding on that detail, since we never climbed it).

We drove out to the trailhead, which starts at Big Meadow, midday on Friday. We were outfitted with full backpacking and climbing gear, as well as three empty gallon jugs for water. We were going to hike 2.5 miles to Manter Meadow, filter water, and hike an additional 3 miles North to Bart Dome, where there is no water.

The hike to Manter was uneventful, and indeed we found water. I started having trouble after that. About a half mile later, on flat ground, my lateral hamstring ligament (I think) started feeling rigid and painful, as if I'd overextended my knee. I had only added one gallon to the weight I was carrying (probably 40 lbs already), and Ben had taken the remaining two. A mile from our destination, we decided to stash two gallons of the water and the ropes, and come back for them the next morning. Despite the beauty of the location, the rest of the hike to Bart was excruciating to me. We made it there, made dinner, and crashed hard, under a cloudy night sky.

The next morning my knee still wasn't good, but I needed to walk on it and figure out exactly how bad it was. We hiked the mile back and returned with the ropes and additional water, and for two thirds of the way I was in agony. At that point I decided that if I climbed -- which I wasn't entirely sure I could do, in the first place -- the hike out would be epic. If I gave myself the day to rest, maybe things would be better. So we sat around in the shade and read our books, until Ben suggested that we should probably get a couple miles of the hiking out of the way, so Sunday's hike out would be easier. We packed up and headed out from Bart Dome, with no climbing done. For this hike I moved my rope to the bottom of the pack and my sleeping bag to the top, took out my orthotics (which had blistered my left arch) and hiked completely bent-kneed, all the work being done by my quads. I made it a mile completely pain free, and then got a twinge for the last half mile, but overall it was a huge improvement. We dropped our packs at a rock outcropping right on the trail, and went off in search of a mythical swimming hole at the base of the Lone Ranger rock, which, of course, was not there. We returned to our base, made dinner, and called it a clear, bright and breezy night.

The next day we loaded up and headed out, and I stuck to what had worked the day before: bent knees. This time, I decided that, since it always seemed like the twinge in my tendon congealed there after rests, I wouldn't rest for the ~4 mile hike out. So I didn't. I made lots of 20 second stops, during which I would stretch my quads, but I didn't stop until the top of the ridge, maybe half a mile short of the trailhead. Indeed, I managed the whole hike out with no pain!

We spent the rest of the day driving up to Church Dome just to check it out, and then back to SB. Now I'm sitting here fretting over whether I should see a doctor about this knee business. It all started last Monday with a pop while coming up over a roof on lead. I was reaching up over the roof, with a foothold under it, and I turned my knee funny. From what I've read, it sounds like an ACL rupture, but based on the relative lack of pain afterwards, it could not have been. Then during the trip, the whole business moved from the anterior-lateral side of my knee to the posterior-lateral side, and took on a whole other character. So did I start with a minor sprain of one thing, and, due to compensation and repetitive strain, screw up another? Or what?

Another weekend at Idyllwild

2009-06-28T12:58:00.001-07:00

Slab climbing at Suicide
Originally uploaded by slampoud

This Friday and Saturday were Idyllwild climbing days. On Saturday Ben and I racked up to do Whodunit, a classic multi-pitch on Tahquitz. There is some debate as to exactly how many pitches it takes to do the climb. The guide book shows 8, and the mountainproject folks weigh in with 5. In the end it took us 6, but really 5 (you'll see why). I'll refer to the pitches as they are in the guide book, mostly because that's the only place that gives landmarks, so I'm sure what's what.

The route starts with 5.9 slab, which neither of us was up for leading first thing off the ground. We noticed that it would be easy to bypass that first pitch and the second, not terribly interesting crack pitch by climbing on broken blocks to the right of the route (properly, the start of the Swallow and the Gulp), and traversing left on a ledge to the start of the 3rd pitch of Whodunit. So we did, Ben leading that first easy pitch.

The 3rd pitch of Whodunit is the second crux: a 5.9 exit from under a roof capping a chimney. Ben led up to the start of the chimney and realized that he was running out of draws. He made a belay at the base of the chimney, so we broke the 3rd pitch into two pieces. Then he led up to the crux, where he fell on a #4 camalot placed directly under the roof. It was kind of a memorable fall, because I heard him scrabbling, a bit like a cat that jumps onto something and misses, before I felt his weight on the rope. He then aided past the crux and made it out. I followed and cleaned the pitch free, which I was very proud of. In fact, I was doubly proud because I had to do the first half, the chimney, with the camelback pack on my chest, then stop under the roof and switch it around to my back to get around the roof. And somehow I did not fall during all this.

I led the next pitch, which, in hindsight, was the 4th plus half of the 5th pitch by the book, up to a cracked roof. The freakiest part was about a quarter up the nominal 5th pitch. By then I'd climbed up an off-width (right off the belay, where I didn't have the #4, so I sent a rope down for it), traversed right to another crack, and then come to a headwall. There was a big block in front of the headwall, about human sized, and I had a small cam on one side of it. I was deciding which side of it to go in order to go up the headwall, when I realized that human-sized block was free-standing and not well lodged, at that. I almost freaked! My pro depended on it, and I was bear-hugging it when I realized there was nothing around the back, it didn't connect to the headwall. Man! That was bad. I very gingerly switched from the left to the right of the block and found a placement on the headwall, before, again very gingerly, stepping on the free standing block to gain the headwall. I climbed 20 more feet and made a hanging belay with one good and two tipped out cams under the broken roof. I was very unhappy and uncomfortable. The pitch behind me (rated 5.8) had been very emotional and the belay was exceedingly uncomfortable.

Ben had the next pitch, but it wasn't entirely clear which way to go. I suspect we were supposed to jog right to some easy ramps, but after much hesitation, Ben avoided the off-width directly in front of him, and went for some face climbing immediately left of that. He had to aid past that section, and then he continued up for a while. I followed that pitch free to a good belay.

The next pitch was mine, and I was terrified by the way it looked. I had to make it up to a roof, traverse under it and go up a headwall to its right. I went up and spent tons and tons of time contemplating the way to protect it, the way to make the moves, the way to minimize drag. In the end, I'm confident I did most of those things right, but it took me a while. I then followed a shallow crack up to yet another headwall type thing, which I had to yard on my arms to get over, and ended the pitch 10 feet below the summit, with hellish drag, but on a nice comfortable ledge. Ben came up and proceeded up to the summit, claiming those 10 feet as an additional pitch. I refuse to accept this!

We came down the slab descent, doing a post-mortem of the whole climb. It had taken us 6.5 hrs to do 6 pitches, 2 of which were half-pitches. That was woefully slow. I had done everything clean, but Ben had aided through one spot we knew to be a crux, and a second spot where we suspect we went straight when the rated route circumvented it. I was happy with my placements during the climbing, but unhappy with one of my anchors. Ben had overcome the desire to give up at least once. Overall, the climb had felt like it was teetering on the verge of being an epic, but it never became one. It wasn't done in great style, but it was done and done safely, and it was our hardest multipitch together yet. And we both agreed that were we to get on it again, we'd be able to style it in sub-1 hour per pitch no problem.

The next day we were both feeling pretty accomplished and lazy, so we went looking for the Smooth Soles wall on Suicide Rock. Once there, we lounged around a while, reading about the climbing history of Tahquitz and Suicide in the book, and then we both toproped the leftmost route, Last Dance, a beautiful 10a slab to thin fingers back to slab, and Ben toproped a 10d slab called Blown Out.

Weekend at Idyllwild

2009-06-08T20:16:00.001-07:00

Suicide rock from Tahquitz
Originally uploaded by slampoud

This weekend we met up with Emily and Sam at Idyllwild and climbed at Tahquitz on Saturday and Suicide Rock on Sunday.

On Saturday we got on Angel's Fright. As we were racking up at the base, a Canadian guy came by and, after chatting for a little while, we gathered he was planning to rope-solo something in the area. Sam proposed inviting him to join us instead, so Ben and I picked him up. Ben led pitches 1, 2 (the crux) and 4, while I led pitch 3. It was cold, windy and cloudy. Climbing was hard, but belaying was even worse. The pitch I led went really really slowly, even though it was ridiculously easy. I way overprotected it, I think because I felt insecure from being cold and stiff. Standing on lunch ledge and belaying Ben up to the 4th pitch was one of the most miserable moments climbing I've ever had. I was in full-body shiver mode. After descending we gave up for the day and went out for Mexican food.

On Sunday we headed to Suicide Rock. Emily, Sam and Bert (the Canadian guy who joined us) headed up some 5.6 thing, while Ben and I explored. I really really wanted to do the 5.10a starting moves of the Breeze, but I got on it and chickened out because of the dire consequences if I fell. We moved right and I led the Shadow, a 5.8R, instead. That was definitely the hardest lead I've done on gear so far (the exception being the 5.9 Baby Robbins crack, which is only 25ft tall), and a real mental challenge. The climbing was tricky, but not that difficult. But, as the R betrays, there was a real runout section, and the crux was several feet above the last pro. The only way I could manage was to mentally break the lead down into lots of small sections, and take advantage of the bomber stances in-between to rest my mind. Ben followed, and then we came down and he did a problem to the right of Shadow, while I conserved my energy to send the Breeze on toprope. I made it to the bolt without falling, which means, had I been on lead, I would have been ok. But then again, it's hard to know whether having all the extra pro on my harness would have been detrimental to my stability. Then I fell once on the crux move above the bolt. It was fun to work the hard move, and I was rewarded by an awesome easy chimney section in the second half of the route.

All in all, a successful and educational weekend. I pushed my gear grade a bit, and I learned a little about what cold does to my leading ability.

Getting to know the local crag: Mission Gorge

2009-06-01T17:08:00.000-07:00

This past Sunday was "getting to know the local crag" day for me. Simone, a fantabulous and super smooth local climber, took me and my gym partner of late, Julio, to Mission Gorge to show us around. Julio had never climbed outside before, and I'd scared off his previous climbing partner when I took him outside. I, on the other hand, had been to Mission Gorge only twice before, once with Julio's previous partner and once with Ben, so I still had (have, really) a lot to learn about the Gorge. We played around the leftmost end of the main wall, always on topropes, and mostly on harder stuff than I would have elected to get on had I been on my own.

I very inelegantly groveled up Knob Job (or Nob Job, depending on which guide you look at), which I hated. Simone said it was the climb that got her hooked, so now I'm waiting to find out what kind of pervert she really is. Then we got on Rock on (the right variation in the dihedral), which is Simone's favorite. Perhaps I should not say "we", since Julio and I only managed to flail and get about two feet off the ground on this 10c. We then did Suzie's wild ride, Hangman, and Crack of dust. I would have liked to have tried Mariah, but after seeing someone even taller than me struggle on it, I think maybe it's a good thing I didn't. All in all, I'd say it was a good day, except that Rock On really munged the backs of my hands, so now I'm hurtin'.

Alex Honnold on Belly Full of Bad Berries

2009-05-26T10:25:00.000-07:00

I am experiencing a giant climber crush on Alex Honnold. Watch the video of him climbing Belly Full of Bad Berries at IC. Holy crap! This guy makes off-width climbing look elegant!

Fantastic thread about the route, including links to videos of others climbing it, over at Supertopo.

Voodoo Dome and Dome Rock

2009-05-19T20:28:00.001-07:00

Ben and Davide at the top of Summer Sojourn
Originally uploaded by slampoud

This past weekend Ben and I were joined by Davide, a friend who was amongst the first people I started climbing with at the UCSB gym about a year ago. Davide has since moved to Antibes, France, and he's been doing a lot of limestone climbing there, so Ben and I wanted to show him some of the wonders of California granite on his visit back. Initially Davide had proposed Yosemite, but I redirected us to a less crowded place. Ben and I had been planning to get on Summer Sojourn and White Punks on Dope, so we invited Davide to join us for that. This was going to be Ben's and my first time on a longer moderate multipitch together (the previous longest having been Cat in the Hat, at 5 pitches of maximum 5.5, if I recall correctly, which we'd rocked), and we'd decided we wanted to swing leads. Thus I was slightly apprehensive about doing it with a group of three, but I knew that Davide was a stronger climber than I am, even if he didn't know how to lead on gear and had never climbed on granite or cracks in general before.

So we drove out to near the base of the Needles on Thursday night and camped in the dark, woke up the next morning and moved our campsite closer to the base of Voodoo, and figured out where the trail up to the base began. We approached with our gear only, no backpacks, knowing that we may or may not descend to the base of the climb. The approach was barely a trail, marked by occasional cairns which truly saved our asses. It took us a little under two hours, and mercifully, we were under treecover most of the time. We'd decided that Ben would lead the odd-numbered pitches, and I'd take the even ones, because 1 and 3 were supposedly the crux pitches, at 5.8. So Ben started up, trailing the second rope so Davide and I could follow more or less at the same time, with me cleaning. Our scheme went well, and we made it to the base of the second pitch with no issues.

The beginning of the second pitch is described as a "striking dihedral". That it was, and more. It was 40 or 50 feet of sheer off-width. I had said I was going to lead it, so, despite the fact that I was obviously intimidated as hell, off I went. I plugged in a #4 camalot and walked it up between knee jams. I stuck in a rigid friend a little further up and led up above it. I groveled, cursed, tried to jam my feet and slipped, but somehow held on. Nearly at the top of the dihedral, the crack gets even wider, but all of a sudden another face appears on the left, maybe 4 or 5 feet away. I traversed left onto that face for a rest. For a few minutes I -- and I suspect Ben, too -- thought I'd really screwed the pooch with that rest, and wouldn't be able to make it back into the crack, which was really the only way to continue. In the end, reversing my moves exactly got me there, and I grunted past the even wider section. From then on the climbing got easy, on two parallel, well-featured sections. The pitch was pretty long, so I had time to relax into the last section and get my flow back, before setting up my anchor and belaying the guys up, grunting, one by one this time.

Ben led the next pitch, which was a fun, but unremarkable crack. The 5.8 crux was really getting on it from under the little roof at its base. Davide and I followed up simultaneously. The fourth pitch, my lead again, was a lot more interesting. The crack we'd been following ran out 10 feet above the belay. I plugged in a #1, and led off to the left, where the beta directed me to look for a placement in a bowl-like section of slab. When I got there, already run-out, I couldn't see a placement. So I started hunting around for one on nearby sections of the slab. I finally found a placement for the golden, I think, TCU. Then I continued up and left, following a seam in the rock. The further away I got from my TCU, the more sketched I became. The climbing was not hard, but there was definitely an "are we there yet?" loop playing in my head. Once I was once again severely run-out above my gear, I started thinking really really hard about where I was putting my hands and feet. Aside from my own rope, I was also trailing Davide's, and I had clipped it into the pro to protect his traverse. The ropes had a ton of friction and were pulling me down at every step. Every move had to be calculated. I was moving so slowly and tentatively, and with so much tension because of the ropes, that I started getting pumped. So then I started worrying about shaking myself off the rock. I found a stance and stopped. There were no placements in sight. I took a minute off and continued, and found a pocket in the rock that I thought might work for a tricam placement in passive mode. So I plugged that in. It was still far from my anchors, which I could now see above me, and the slab was becoming more vertical just below them. I had visions of lunging for the anchor, going for it with one finger and breaking it off as I weighted it. So I didn't. I went up very very carefully, moving left and right off the center seam, as necessary to get the best holds. When I got to the anchor I discovered one bomber metolius bolt flanked by two sketchy rusty hangers on rivets. I built my uncomfortable hanging belay and got Davide and Ben up, one by one, because they were moving so fast on the slab. Three pieces in 150 feet!? The first within 3 feet of the anchor?! Holy shit! That is the very definition of severely run out. I am so impressed that I did not shake off the rock on that one!

The rest of the climb wasn't much to write home about. Ben's next pitch was more slab, but this time there were bolts to clip! Kiddy slab. Then I did a 70 foot lead to the worst-placed anchor I've ever seen. Then Ben finished it off with another short and trivial crack-to-slab lead, and we walked off the easy slab to the top, where the view was amazing. We'd started out at 11am and finished at 6pm sharp, for an average of 1 hour per pitch. Not bad, under the circumstances.

The descent... now that was another matter altogether. I'd been warned by the San Diego experts not to attempt to walk off Voodoo Dome, but rather to rap down a route. But the Mountainproject beta suggested walking off, so that's what we tried. We misidentified the gully we were supposed to go down (and misidentified it again later, so that we really have no idea where the proper gully is, even though I looked for it from the summit of Voodoo) and had to rap a couple times. Then it got dark, and we only had two headlamps for three people. We had to rap a whole bunch later, and finally we made it to what seemed like steep, but not rocky ground. From there we found the original trail in the dark, which was a miracle, and made it out in a whopping four hours. All told, it was a 13 hour day, with 7 hours spent climbing in the sun, and four hours descending, so I was burned, my calves were shot and we were all generally a little dehydrated and exhausted.

The next couple days were spent on Dome Rock, where it was too hot and sunny to get on any of the exposed multipitch routes. We messed about on the first pitches of a couple things on Saturday, and the amphitheater on Sunday. On Sunday afternoon we dropped Davide off at Corcoran, where he caught the train for Berkeley to attend his conference.

We learned a bunch of lessons:
* Ben should have learned to always bring a headlamp, but knowing him, he probably hasn't
* on adventure climbs, when you think you're bringing enough water, bring more -- we got this right
* we probably should have followed the beta given us by people we know rather than the website -- I was arguing for this, Ben against it, I think, given our experience, I win
* 5.7 is the scariest grade; it has no honor or sense of propriety and will trick you into all sorts of stuff -- we all agreed on that
* R in the Sierras is really R; it could mean anything from four placements in 200 feet to no placements. In my 5.6 case it meant two (excepting the one right above the anchor), the second of which was questionable
* swinging leads works really well for us. I find it psychologically helpful to decide in advance who's doing odd and who's doing even
* I can't belay two people up a 5.6 slab at the same time in guide mode. They usually move too fast

The week off

2009-05-09T09:40:00.000-07:00

After a weekend of climbing at Echo Cliffs, then racing Sat & Sun, all while having some sort of flu, I foolishly went to the gym to work out on Monday. Not only that, I climbed with Julio in the lead cave, where I was creeping along the ceiling like a bat. So it's no surprise that I ended up with a booboo. It felt like a muscle spasm or cramp, on one side of my upper back. It didn't come on fast, like a cramp would, but rather as I cooled down I felt it congeal there. Then overnight I developed a twinge in my knee, like I'd over-extended it.

So I decided two sprained fingers, a wrist that won't go through its full range of motion, a spastic back and a twingey knee probably meant I should take the week off. In a way I think all these minor injuries are related: it started with the fingers, and I probably started favoring my other arm, exacerbating that wrist, then my handwork was weak, so I had to crank with my back more, and finally I have NO idea what happened to my knee. I've taken the week off and I've been doing very slow very deliberate yoga, which has helped tremendously, and icing things whenever it crosses my mind. Everything feels so much better now, and hopefully the antibiotics I was prescribed yesterday will clear up the bacterial sinus infection that followed the flu.

This is all in preparation for next week, when I get to climb with two -- two! at the same time! -- of my favorite people in the world: my regular partner, and Davide, a friend who sticks to the rock like a little froggy. DVD moved to France a couple months after he, Wil (my old housemate) and I got together in Feb. 2008 and decided to get serious about climbing. He's never climbed granite or cracks, so Ben and I are taking him to the Needles to do some multi-pitch crack climbing on excellent granite! I'm hoping the fingers will be well enough that I won't have to buddy-tape them, so that it's easier to place and clean gear. Ideally, I'd like to swing leads with Ben, and it'll be a lot easier if I have my full complement of five fingers on the right, instead of four. I'm so stoked!

Echo Cliffs on Friday

2009-05-04T16:21:00.001-07:00

On Friday I was in the throes of the beginning of a chest cold. Despite that, Ben and I headed out to Echo Cliffs, which is in the Santa Monica mountains near the border of the Ventura and Los Angeles counties, at the crack of noon. The weather was hot and oppressive at first, but turned breezy and nice, and eventually even sprinkled a little late in the day. The approach to the crag is about 45 minutes long, and can, but should NOT be shortened by going down a scree gully that happens to be an endangered wildflower habitat. I was having a really hard time breathing during the approach, and was feeling very weird when we got to the crag, but we still got 3 5.8-5.9 climbs in before totally losing motivation and resorting to just lounging around. We went to the Grotto area, which is down by the creek, and really enjoyed both the location and the quality of the rock. We're looking forward to returning to try our luck on some of the 5.10 sport climbs in that area.

New Jack City

2009-04-27T10:53:00.000-07:00

On Saturday I got together with the San Diego Climbers meetup buddies that I usually climb with indoors, and we headed out to New Jack City, a sport climbing field just North of Barstow. The current issue of Ice & Rock (which, by the way, I've really enjoyed) has an article about Owen's River Gorge in which it calls New Jack City a "chosspile". So I had my reservations, but I wanted to see the place for myself.

On Friday I'd sprained my right index and middle fingers by wrenching them upwards from a twisty two-finger pocket towards another hold, which I was trying to deadpoint. I think it's a pretty serious sprain, especially for my index finger, but I hope that if I take things easy, maybe focus on aerobics and yoga for the next week, I should be able to start crimping with those fingers again soon. In any case, I decided to go to NJC on Saturday anyway, after refreshing my knowledge of the so-called "buddy taping" technique which I'd used heavily as a volleyball player in the past.

I climbed a total of 6 climbs, of which I led 4. The hardest lead was a 5.9, which was a real challenge with two bad fingers. The two toprope routes were "step across", a soft 10a, and "route 66", which is harder than its rated 9 at the end, in my opinion. The grades on the routes I led were reasonably fair, I thought. As for the choss issue, I see what the author of the Owens article meant, but I don't think it's relevant. Yes, the edges of the rock break off quite a bit. It's some sort of metamorphic rock that used to be sandstone, and it breaks into little sharp-angled pieces. Nevertheless, none of the bolts seem to be suspect at all. They're all in large solid spots. So, OK, you're occasionally raining little bits of rock on your belayer. So what? Everyone knows to wear helmets around there. On the other hand, I'd sooner fall on any of these bolts rather than the ones in Santa Barbara sandstone. So, yeah, it's not Owen's, but it's not bad, either. You can get as much climbing as you'd get in the gym, and you get to be outside.

Borneo Big Wall

2009-04-23T21:45:00.000-07:00

A bunch of big wall climbers got together, got sponsorship and headed out to establish climbs on the big walls of Borneo. Among them was Jimmy Chin, a phenomenal photographer and videographer -- if you've been following climbing mags and movies over the last few years, then you've definitely seen his work. The result was a series of fantastic videos documenting the project, which are posted here. I really enjoyed them, and then I had tons of fun going through the websites of the team members and reading more about their respective adventures.

Throwdown

2009-04-23T15:43:00.000-07:00

I was looking over some routes in the Needles so I could send a friend some links and I came upon Igor Unchained. Holy crap! It's beautiful! So I fired off email to Ben:

- I want to be able to lead this by next spring.

In all likelihood I would be able to lead this now, but it would be in bad form and epic, and maybe a little dangerous. And the Needles have a very definite season during which they're both accessible and pleasant, so I can't say let's do it in 6 months. So, OK, let's be generous: next spring. And back came the reply:

- Saturday, May 1, 2010. It's on my calendar.
- Time to do some more laps at the gym.

Good partners rock the firmament! And it's been thrown down :-)

Around the Kern -- Saturday -- F.A.s?

2009-04-22T12:23:00.000-07:00

On Saturday Ben and I fooled around half the day running up and down boulders on the side of the road by the Kern. It was fun, but it was getting hot and we weren't getting any climbing done. On our way to find a shady spot for lunch I spotted a couple of cracks in a small buttress below the road, a few miles before Johnsondale. Here's the map of the spot. There's a pullout on the left of the road, and the buttress is down the cliff towards the creek from there.

View Larger Map

We had some lunch, grabbed our gear and headed down. The approach was a sandy, chossy, bushy mess, and full of trash. Apparently people drive up to the pullout above and trundle all sorts of stuff down towards the creek. We saw rusty metal, tires, lots of broken glass. To be honest, I was a little concerned about the possibility of someone trundling a fridge or something right at us!

We got to the cracks, and my suspicion was confirmed: they were definitely climb-worthy. Here's a picture.

The rock was reasonably good, but it was absolutely covered in lichen. In addition, there were chockstones in the cracks, and a lot of loose rock lying around. There were absolutely no signs that a human had climbed these cracks, or indeed ever stood where we were. No chalk on the rock, no evidence of cleaning, no trails, no nothing.

We decided it would be too risky to try to climb these on lead, since the lichen made it unlikely cams would hold, and in any case the quality of the rock was a complete unknown. So we went to the top of the little buttress to set a toprope on the right-hand crack first. We chose the most enormous of several boulders up top and wrapped it with a 30-foot long webbing I always carry. While up there we trundled those rocks that posed a danger while on toprope. We also decided the belayer would have to be well off to the side of the climber, just in case, for both cracks.

Ben was kind enough to give me the first and easier ascent of the crack on the right. I trundled the first chockstone I came upon because it was obviously loose, and left the second one where it was, completely avoiding it. The climb was fun, with a couple off-width sections, one of which could be avoided by doing a mantle. The lichen, on the other hand, was insane! Smearing was, of course, impossible. Jamming was questionable. My eyes were full of ground-up lichen. Man! Suffering! I enjoyed my dirty, groveling first ascent, and Ben jumped on it. He huffed and puffed and went into the off-width rather than mantel. If indeed I have naming rights, I'd like to call the climb "at last, I made you gasp".

We then decided to shift the rope slightly left and try the face between the cracks before proceeding even further left to the harder crack. I didn't think it would be possible at all, because all the lichen made friction nonexistent, but Ben managed to squeeze a few impressive moves out of it. He then made for a right hand jug, and the jug proceeded to come completely off. Ben avoided getting hit, and the rock embedded itself in the dirt at the base of the climb. Realizing there was another small loose piece, Ben lowered off and we called that route off-limits.

When we went up to shift the anchors for the harder crack, we realized this anchor was going to be considerably trickier than the one for "at last...". For one thing, we needed to trundle a lot of rocks. But also, the only reliable boulder we could wrap was enormous, so we needed to use one of our climbing ropes. Then there was a sharp edge that the anchor rope would have to go over, and, of course, we didn't want to sacrifice a good long rope for one damn crack FA. I suggested redirecting the strong point a little to the side of the sharp section with some well-placed cams, but Ben took it further and devised an anchor at the very top of the crack with three cams. We rigged a way to lower him so he could build that, and then went below to climb.

This second crack was just as dirty as the previous, but also a lot harder. The start was from a little cave with two chockstones, one razor-sharp, up to the crack proper. Here's Ben doing it.

Then I did it, huffing and puffing and cursing, but, miraculously, not falling. Ben decided to call it "seven fingered sloth", in honor of the tape gloves he borrowed from me, which had come unstuck in an interesting seven finger pattern.

After that we messed about for a while looking for other things to climb, I lowered Ben to retrieve the anchor for "sloth", and we headed back up to the car. It's impossible to be sure, but I think we may have been the first people to climb there.

Playing around the Kern -- Friday

2009-04-22T07:45:00.001-07:00

Ben on the Kernville slabs
Originally uploaded by slampoud

Last weekend's plan had been to head up to Voodoo Dome and Demon Dome, two domes just below the Needles, to climb some multi-pitch classics. We decided to approach via Kernville, but it turned out that the road to these Domes, as well as the road to Dome Rock, were closed. Rockfall for the former, big snowdrifts for the latter. So we ended up playing around the Kern river, on the Kernville slabs, a bit North, and then a bit down the canyon, for our three day weekend.

Everything started with an exhausted arrival on Thursday night at Remington Hot Spring. We camped up near the parking lot and didn't have the energy to head down and check out the hot spring that night. The next morning, of course, found us dashing downhill for a dip in what has to be one of the most scenic hot springs in all of CA. We then grabbed some breakfast at Kernville and spent half the day figuring out that we couldn't get anywhere from there -- all roads up into the mountains were closed. So on Friday midday we hit the Kernville slabs. We first got on a supposedly 5.3 crack just right of the lieback crack, which was phenomenally fun. That's when I started suspecting that some kind of revelation was impending. This rock was really interesting: bright white granite, with clean but not sharp edges, and not one crystal coming off when you touched it. From the top of the crack pitch, we lowered onto the slab on the right and climbed up the slab following a small seam. The friction was amazing!

Then we got off the rock and took a break, because it was hotter than hell, and after a little hesitation decided to get on the lieback crack to round out the day. This route is rated 5.5, but I think that's the very definition of a sandbag. If you're at all insecure on pure friction, or not used to the type of rock, or simply have never done the route before and have any doubts about quite how far you're supposed to stick with the dihedral, this thing is scaaaary. Ben led it, having climbed it a couple times in the past. I followed, and I was hungry so I was probably going a little too fast. Yep, lieback is the way. Initially you don't believe it and you try all sorts of stuff, friction, jamming, but lieback is the way. There are a couple sections where the crack runs out and then you are out on the most perfect, unfeatured granite in the world on friction alone. You put your feet down and sort out what angle will give you the most stick. Then you put the pads of your palms down and pray. The objective is to make upward progress, but it doesn't have to be exclusive, so long as you don't come off the rock. Let me tell you, I did not think this was possible. I thought, surely this violates several laws of physics. It's possible. It's fun. Make sure to not come off the rock when you get past those moves and your body wants to whiplash from being so tightly controlled for those few moments. It's absolutely exhilarating. Geckos must be the happiest little creatures on earth!

Too much work!

2009-04-15T11:09:00.001-07:00

I'm sitting at work, writing, totally stressed about the fact that I may not have enough time to go climb tonight.

But I'm being sustained by the fact that climbing partner and I are headed to the Kernville Slabs, Voodoo and Demon Domes this weekend. It's spring in the Sierra!

An afterthought: wouldn't it be better if they were called Voodoo Child and Demon Lover Dome?

An alpine Saturday

2009-04-13T07:38:00.000-07:00

On Saturday we decided to head up to Potrero John and see what we could climb there. A bunch of new routes have been put up on the Fortress, and Ben had climbed a couple of those with someone else in the past. We got on an arete called Permanent Income Hypothesis, which is long and cool, but with a lot of loose rock. The start was already in the shade by the time we started and it was windy and cold. Ben did a great job leading, but when it was time for me to start up I was frozen. I couldn't feel my fingers and my shoes were slipping as if they had ice on the bottom. The first move off the ledge is the hardest of the route, and it took me a while to get the confidence to pull it on hands and feet I could barely feel. The rest of the route is easier climbing, but you're often on top of blocks of sandstone which to me look like they will come off eventually, probably soon. So during the upper section I was having visions of taking falls with a giant block of sandstone in my hands. When I got up top I found Ben shivering, so we prepped our two rope rap and headed down asap. The rope wasn't coming down after the rap, so I put a Klemheist on it and climbed up the chimney/off-width on the right up past the intermediate rap rings until I got to a point where I could pull the ropes. I still haven't figured out precisely why it was stuck. By the end of all this I was nicely warmed up, but not having the greatest climbing day.

Lead cert

2009-04-08T22:14:00.001-07:00

A friend's regular climbing partner was out today, so the friend needed a belay at the gym. Except he usually climbs in the lead cave, and I've never bothered to get lead certified at a gym, in SB or SD. My attitude towards the gym is that it constitutes training in a very general sense: it's supposed to develop or keep in shape the muscles I need to be able to climb outside, as I do every other weekend, but I don't treat the routes there as serious climbing challenges in themselves. I don't know whether it's because they're set by humans, or because the place is mobbed with people who are either new or simply not that good, but I just can't take the gym seriously as anything more than gymnastics. This is all by way of explaining how I found myself taking the lead certification test tonight. The test was far easier at this gym than it was at the UCSB gym, where in addition to belaying, arresting a fall and leading successfully, they wanted you to give a dynamic catch, demonstrate back-clipping and z-clipping, and would fail you if your hands went anywhere near the rope while taking a lead fall. So, of course, I passed, and got to climb in the lead cave. I took it very easy, since my elbow and left ring finger, my two current injuries, were both making themselves felt after Monday's hard climbing. I made it 4 clips up the white "cakewalk" overhanging route, on which I could have gone much further, a couple clips up another juggy overhanging route, and did a 5.8 and a 5.9 vertical route. All in all, it was a fine experience, and it's given me a couple more projects to work on... Oh, and I saw a guy z-clipping and yelled out to him to let him know, but since I never raise my voice, the whole thing made me feel really bad, even though it was obviously for his own good.

Bachar interview on climber radio

2009-04-07T10:50:00.001-07:00

I heard about this fantastic interview with John Bachar on Climbing Radio from ClimbingNarc. I love the whole thing, but I especially loved his description of free soloing on-sight towards the end of the interview. He talks about how he went through two sections on this 500 ft 5.11 climb and thought, surely, each of them must be the crux, only to get to a lieback section further up and realize that's it. So he describes how he made it through that section feeling not solid, but not like he was going to fall either, then got up to the top of the climb and stood there feeling hollow, like he hadn't so much achieved something, but more like the mountain had let him get away with something. He likened it to surviving a car accident, where you walk around in a daze for the next few days. I think he hit a couple nails on the head there...

Something that really impressed me about Bachar (but, be warned, Ben and I interpreted this differently) was that he didn't rise to what I thought was obvious baiting by the hosts of the show when they asked him what he thought of Dean Potter's free-soloing with a BASE rig. Bachar's response was well-considered and completely lacking of any "oh these youngsters these days, we were so much cooler" attitude. He basically said that he didn't think having a BASE suit on did anything to diminish the seriousness of Dean Potter's free soloing. Dean still had to be solid climbing, and, in addition, needed to have the presence of mind to push off the rock and deploy the rig correctly if he was to derive any benefit from it. I guess you'll always find me rooting for old-timers with a healthy respect for the younger generation and the fact that times inevitably a-change.

Steph Davis free soloing the Diamond

2009-04-07T07:41:00.000-07:00

Little snippets and shorter versions of this video have made into every climbing website, as well as the movie "the Sharp End". I like this one because it's high quality, complete, focused, and therefore seems authoritative. There's a lot of footage of the actual climbing, as well as the really recognizable snippets from the movie and the quotable bits. Personally I like the claim that "the fear is the danger", and I think it's true not just in the free soloing context but also in the leading context. All considerations of danger and contingency belong to the preparation phase of the climb. When they creep into the climb actual, they become a danger in themselves.

Steph Davis - Castleton And Diamond Free Solo from Andrew on Vimeo.

Red Rocks: day 5 (panty time)

2009-04-05T10:33:00.001-07:00

Ben on Panty Mime (10d)
Originally uploaded by slampoud

On Tuesday morning we were up for seeing some of the more scenic parts of the park, doing some sport climbing, and maybe trying our luck on some harder grades. So we headed to the Panty Wall, with only one pack full of gear: a single rope and quickdraws. Regular sport climbers!

The Panty Wall is off the first pull-out in the scenic loop, nestled among the gorgeous crimson boulders there. The hike getting there was gorgeous, although we found out that the big pine tree that the guide book uses as a landmark for the place blew down on Christmas 2008 and is now lying in dying pieces at the base of the rock. RIP pine tree... I first led the Panty Prow, a 5.6 arete up and left of the Panty Wall, and then we toproped Victoria's Secret (down and right of the anchor) (10b) and Ben did Panty Mime (down and left from the anchor), a 10d for which there are bolts, but which I think would be an absolutely terrifying lead. In fact VS worked me pretty hard. I must have taken 4 or 5 falls, and I didn't make the last 10 feet or so of the climb.

We then moved down to the Panty Wall proper, where a party of Canadians, and a group of three women were also hanging out. There must be an unwritten rule that chicks lead at the Panty Wall, because in all three parties there the leaders were women. I led Boxer Rebellion, Sacred Undergarment Squeeze Job, and Brief Encounter, one 7 and two 8s, with great style and aplomb. In my mind those climbs were far easier than their rating would suggest, and the whole experience got me thinking about the strangeness of the rating system: in what sense is the difficulty of Pauligk's Pillar in the same class as Boxer Rebellion? In any case, we were assured by an old-timer we ran into on the hike out that the grades at Panty Wall are fair for the area.

Red Rocks: day 4 (party time)

2009-04-05T10:19:00.001-07:00

At the top of Cat in the Hat
Originally uploaded by slampoud

We'd been planning all along to do one long multi-pitch climb at least. Since Tuesday was going to involve a lot of driving, and hence an early departure from Red Rocks, but by Monday the drugs should have kicked in, we chose Monday as our epic day. We'd mentioned this plan to the local we'd met a couple days before, Sean, and he'd suggested that instead of doing one of the mobbed routes, e.g. Cat in the Hat, we should try Birdland. So when we left the campground on Monday morning, bright and early, but not too early and definitely not too bright, we were headed for Birdland. When we spotted it from the trail, around 9am, there were already two parties on it. Two parties ahead of us qualified, in our mind, as mobbed, so we figured, how much worse could Cat in the Hat be? We continued round the corner of Mescalito to Cat in the Hat, and found one party ahead of us and one forlorn climber, whose partner had gone back to the car (a 45 minute hike away) to get her shoes. So we jumped on it. Depending on how you count, Can in the Hat could have anywhere from 4 to 6 pitches. We did one pitch, a scramble, two more pitches, a traverselet, and a final technical pitch. I call that 4, even thought we re-racked for the traverselet. I didn't especially like the 1st or 2nd pitches, but I loved the 3rd (typical broken varnished face climbing of the area, like Spidercrack), and thought the 4th was OK. We caught up with the party ahead of us at the base of the 4th pitch, and while we were waiting I got to go down a crevice just below us and retrieve three booty nuts (two BD 6s and a 2 micro-stopper ridiculous thingy). The view from the top was absolutely beautiful. We met a Canadian who gave us big wall tips and suggestions for routes to do in Yosemite. Turns out his grandpa was born hours away from where mine was born. Small world. He pegged me as Greek after taking one long look at me. "You look just like my cousin." I was flabbergasted. We rapped down and had to wait a bunch in places, because by that point there were maybe 8 parties on the rock, heading both up and down... All in all, though, the day was a tremendous success: we did the climb, we were fast, we negotiated the social aspects just fine. If anything, it wasn't much of an epic, but given that I was sick, I'm somewhat grateful for that.

Red Rocks: day 3 (off-route extravaganza)

2009-04-05T09:50:00.001-07:00

Starting up C11H17NO3
Originally uploaded by slampoud

On the third day of Christmas I was feeling much better. The second day had found me at maybe 20% my normal energy levels, but by the third day I was up to maybe 40%, which was respectable. We decided to go check out some short multi-pitch routes at Pine Creek Canyon, so we saddled up our packs and headed out. While later in the day climbing would prove to be not so hard on me, hiking with packs was really rough, going to show that it was stamina and cardiovascular performance that the sinus infection was compromising.

We had decided to look at routes on Mescalito, and got pretty excited about Cookie Monster as we looked at it from below. But we overshot the approach, and ended up at the base of Cat in the Hat, then turned back and went up the little escarpment to the base of Cookie Monster. Because Cookie Monster was going to end at the top of the second pitch of Cat in the Hat, and require us to rappel down that side of the massif, with our packs left behind at the base of the climb, I wasn't too keen on it. We decided to try the climb a couple cracks to the right. I proceeded to misidentify the crack as Pauligk Pillar (which in fact is on the right hand side of the big jumble in the middle of the face), and memorize the beta for that. As it turns out, the climb we got on was C11H17NO3 (the chemical formula for mescalin). There was something disturbing going on the climb we'd chosen: we could see bailing gear all over the place. Just from the base, we could see a sling with a biner wrapped around a horn of some sort, presumably for rappelling, and a jumble of slings a little to the left. Should that have been a warning to us? I don't know. We pressed on. The start of the climb was a little spooky, slightly overhanging and a little awkward, but then it turned into a chimney of sorts with good holds everywhere. Ben made his way up, and at some point, out of sight, stopped and belayed me up. On the way up I found another nut, in a bomber placement for bailing, and Ben said there was yet another one a little further up. When I arrived to where Ben was he explained we weren't at a proper belay station, but the spot between us and the belay tree looked unprotectable, a polished face in a chimney too large to stem. It sketched Ben out, but I saw all the holds, I knew they were good, and I was confident I wasn't going to fall out of any of them, so I went on. In my mind the sketchiest thing about going ahead in this manner, to complete the pitch, was that I wasn't carrying a full rack. I only had a few stoppers, a couple slings and a cordelette. On the way up I slung a horn, in kind of Hail Mary fashion, since I wasn't too sure it would hold, and placed a nut, and there I was. I belayed Ben up and we assessed the situation. At this point the beta I'd memorized (for the wrong route, remember?) was making absolutely no sense. But from where we were we could see three or four sling jumbles off to climber's right, so we decided to go that way. In retrospect we think that was the second pitch of the "regular" route, on quite soft and sandy rock. We went up a pitch that way, and the quality of the rock did not seem to be improving. Thankfully we had tons of bailing options to choose from, so bail we did. Perplexed down at the base, we sorted out my misidentification mistake, rested and had some food, patted ourselves on the back for returning in one piece and with booty (a sling, a biner, a couple quick links, and we could have had two more nuts!), and considered our options.

Since Pauligk's Pillar was the only short multi-pitch route with a star around that area, I really wanted to find it. We struck off counter-clockwise around Mescalito, and sure enough we located the route and made it to the base. By then that side of Mescalito was in the shade, and it looked vaguely ominous. I looked up at the thing, and I really really wanted to climb it. Ben looked up, and he really really didn't want to lead it. So we stood there, studying the problem: the first few moves off the ground were truly scary. I could identify where each hand and foot should go, but there were no alternatives, and for the first move, if anything blew, it would all blow. I thought I could do it. Further up it looked steep, but featured and actually quite varied. This was not just one crack in a dihedral, there were a couple crack systems running through it, and the face on the right had lots of holds. So I decided to lead it. The guide called for doubles to three inches, so I took everything, including the #4. The start was a mind game: it was all about getting on the holds, realizing they would hold, realizing they would not hold forever, making a plan and executing the next move. If I snoozed or froze I'd fall right on top of Ben's head and we'd tumble down off the belay ledge. So I did it. Maybe three moves up I could see a placement for a hand sized cam, so I took it: my Jesus piece. Then I left that whole mind game behind me and got on with the climb. This was 170 ft long climb, so I knew I'd have to ration my pro. I didn't want to run it out too much, so I decided on a strategy for placements: place when the length of the fall starts getting unacceptable, or to protect cruxes. At first that meant only first criterion was getting used: the climb was athletic, all steep, but very juggy. I wasn't planning on blowing any of my cranks, and I was following another little rule I'd developed: no more than one foot on those strange face plate holds, because, while they were excellent holds, I did not trust them to take my whole weight and hold. I got to sling a couple little pillars of rock, attached both at the top and bottom, formed by water eating all the rock around them. Those were fun. Then there was a chimney to my left which I avoided by going on the face to the right. Rationing pro, thinking really hard about what to place and where, and trying, for the life of me, to find a place to put something passive, a nut or a tri-cam, but in the end relying almost completely on cams and my two slung runnels. Then things got a little more serious. Just before the belay station I ran into two crux moves. The first was in a section where the dihedral was now a proper dihedral, left side polished, right side with a couple features, crack in the middle. I could fit a jam, so I protected above it, and made the move. The next was just below the belay, where there was an off-width in the left, and the face on the right was kind of messy. I was standing on a ledge and my options were to go into the off-width or stay outside it and stem on various broken pieces. I reached up and stuck a #1 in a side crack above me, then, for the first time, made a move not knowing what my next move would be. I managed the whole thing without going into the off-width, the prospect of which had terrified me. The belay ledge was big enough for one foot. The anchor was a hex, a nut, and a sling wedged behind a rock that was, as far as I could see, not a chockstone. I don't like hanging belays under the best of circumstances (probably because I'm not so hot on my harness), but at the end of my third trad lead, while trying to keep how desperate that all could have been safely tucked away at the back of my mind, then I really don't like hanging belays. So I set it up. I clipped everything, and I made a spot to manage the rope, and I triple-checked everything. Then I started bringing Ben up. It was getting darker; I didn't have a watch, but I knew that since we had to get out of the parking lot by 7 we probably wouldn't have time for the second pitch. It looked like more of the same anyway. And as I sat there belaying Ben up, the whole climb started sinking in. Climbing it had been fine, step by step, all secure and thought out, placements were good, dandy. Reliving it my head, contingencies and all, was another matter all together. When Ben came into view it was like sunshine. I swear, I'm not a sap, but it had been a long lead, into a steep, relatively dark corner, and when the guy that usually sets up my anchors, and double-checks my knots came into view, I wanted to whoop with joy. He got up to the belay, ahem, not quite ledge... foothold? Took a look up at the second pitch and knew he didn't want to lead it. I said we didn't have time anyway. We set up the rap, and at this point I was very grateful for his fresh energy, since the contingency loop in the back of my mind was sapping mine. We got down, and the route looked scary on the rap down. We got the ropes out without getting them stuck. Holy fuck, I pulled that off! I know we're only talking 5.7, but that was a proud moment for me, a very proud lead.

Red Rocks: day 2 (better)

2009-04-04T21:13:00.001-07:00

Ragged Edges
Originally uploaded by slampoud

On Saturday I woke up feeling slightly better, probably not because of the antibiotics proper, since I'd only taken one dose by then, but rather because I knew that issue had been handled and now it was up to me to climb, somehow.

We returned to the Ragged Edges wall, and made it to the route of the same name before anyone else showed up, so we set up and Ben was already making his way up the first pitch when other climbers started arriving. I warned everyone we were going to take our time on this one, since it was our first climb of the day, but even so, Ben was looking really tentative. He made it to the top of the first pitch, and I followed, but he wasn't feeling it for the second, and by then the ground was crawling with 5 or 6 other people, so we moved away. We moved left to an easy crack called "Diplomatic Immunity", and then to another yet further left called something like zigzag crack.

We took a good long break during lunch, and I have to admit, I think I caught a tiny nap, too, and then moved across to the other side of the canyon to do "Spidercrack". This climb is typical of this area, but I've never seen anything like it anywhere else. It's not really a crack proper, but rather a broken up face with lots of opportunities to place stoppers. While Ben was leading Spidercrack I got to shoot the shit with a real local down at the base, and to relay some beta. This was especially cool, because I do love meeting the locals, the people who actually put up the routes and climb them year after year and have all these stories to tell. After that we called it a night relatively early, since I was still feeling pretty crappy.

Red Rocks: day 1 (miserable)

2009-04-02T19:39:00.000-07:00

Ben and I had been planning a trip to Indian Creek in Utah, a crack climbing Mecca, for months. But in the week leading up to the trip it became obvious that the forecast wasn't going to cooperate, so we had to come up with an alternative, fast. We considered Bishop, our default option, Yosemite Valley, and Red Rock Canyon in Nevada. Red Rocks had been highly recommended by our friend Max and I'd read about it in Climber Girl's blog. I'd also heard people at the gym rave, and we knew it was prime Red Rocks season, so we decided to divert to Red Rocks.

The original plan had been to meet at Victorville on Thursday night and make our way up to Vegas, but come Thursday morning I woke up with the cold I'd been nursing for the past few days continuing to take its course for the worse. So we postponed our start to Friday morning. As planned we met at Victorville, arriving within 5 minutes of each other despite the three hour drive, and continued to Vegas in my car (having been told that 4x4 would be helpful if we wanted to climb in certain places). We got to Vegas around noon, and made a quick stop at Desert Rock Sports to pick up Jerry Handren's guide book (which I had been told is exceptionally good, and I concur with that assessment). The guys at DRS recommended Rio, a fresh Mexican food place, for lunch, so we went, and, frankly, we were impressed! Fed and watered, we made our way to the BLM campground, which was chock full. We checked in with the host, thinking we were screwed and would have to go to the next closest campground 20 miles away, but the host told us to camp anywhere near the overflow area and try to minimize stepping on plants. We were so grateful!

After pitching the tent, I was all fired up about hitting a crag, so we headed out to the Ragged Edges wall, which had been recommended by Bob, the local RR expert at my gym. When we got there there were other people on Ragged Edges, so we picked a 5.5 crack to the left of Ragged Edges to familiarize ourselves with the rock quality. Ben led it, and scored a 0.5 camalot in the process, and I followed. I'd been feeling crappy all day, with huge amounts of snot, coughing and a sore throat, but climbing absolutely did me in. We got off that 5.5 and my head was throbbing. My sinuses were so bad that I was in agony whenever I tilted my head even slightly. Good luck climbing like that! We stood under Ragged Edges, looking up at the thing, wanting to climb it, yet I was moaning in pain. Finally, Ben made the decision that I, in my cloudy, pained state could not bring myself to make: we should deal with the sinus infection now, before it ruins our vacation. We'd spotted an urgent care place on Charleston St on the drive to the campground, but I was concerned it would either be closed before we got there (it was about 5pm when we left the crag) or they'd refuse to prescribe antibiotics, which I was in obvious need of, and tell me to wait it out. Taking our chances, we headed there as fast as we could, and once there everything turned out well: the place was open and they prescribed amoxicillin. We dropped off the prescription at Walmart and went for a beer at a local sports bar around the corner, where we had tons of fun rooting for State (don't even remember which State!) along with everyone else in the joint, in a basketball game. After that we picked up my drugs and called it a night.

Lynn Hill & Katie Brown video

2009-03-25T22:04:00.000-07:00

I watched this video on youtube and absolutely loved it! It's really cool to see Lynn Hill's particular style of mentorship, which is very much like my own towards younger women in my line of work.

This belongs to the Patagonia collection of climbing videos, which represent fantastic production value, in my opinion. More of them can be found here.

Lie detector is full of crap

2009-03-22T18:46:00.000-07:00

This weekend Ben and I hit Mission Gorge and Mt. Woodson to take in the local cragging scene. At Mission Gorge we climbed close to Lunch rock, doing a 5.8 crack to the left of it (with a hilarious name which is now eluding me), and then moving to Lunch rock proper. I led Lunch rock left, then we toproped the crack that runs up its middle, then the arete and then Ben managed the face on the right hand side, while I only made it halfway up.

Yesterday we returned to Mt. Woodson to visit what's becoming a new obsession, the Robbins crack. It was initially occupied, so we sent a 5.8 off-width problem behind the painted boulder first. It was near there that I had an unexpected encounter with a very very large and very pissy rattlesnake. We returned to the Robbins crack, which Ben aided up. Then I toproped it cleanly all the way up, to my great surprise, and, of course, so did Ben. We threw the rope onto the other side, which features Lie detector, a crack that starts as 12b fingers (if that) and continues as a 10b fingers-to-hands. We aided past the 12b section and both toproped the top section. In the beginning of the top section the crack was chock full of bird or rat or something shit. It was really nasty, because it smelled, and there was absolutely no choice but to stick your fingers directly into it. I frankly found the whole climb really hard to do, because, after aiding up 15 feet, and sticking my fingers into shit, I just couldn't wait to get off the damn rock! We then moved up the trail a bit to the Baby Robbins crack, a 20 foot tall 5.9 thin hand crack. For whatever reason, I decided to lead the thing, this being not only my second trad lead ever, but also a grade up from any serious sport leads I'd done (excepting Malibu creek). The feet were really bad in the lower section, so I hung, thought about it, restarted it from the ground and eventually led the whole sucker. It wasn't led in great style, but it was a legitimately hard start, so I'm proud of it anyway. We wrapped up the day by free-soloing a couple very short 5.8 cracks around the corner from Baby Robbins.

Nightmare

2009-03-19T16:30:00.000-07:00

When you're in grade school, maybe even high school, you have that nightmare where you're naked in class. Then you get older and you think it's over, but you go to college and get the one about having registered for a class and then forgetting about it, and getting an F at the end of the quarter because you never showed up. Then you get even older and start climbing and as a follower you get the one about the stuck cam. Motherfucker won't come out! Then you start leading and you think, smooth sailing from now on! But no! Then you get the one about, I bought new cams but do they come with biners? Do we have enough biners?

New toys

2009-03-17T18:02:00.000-07:00

Excited about the upcoming trip to Indian Creek, UT, I went on ebay last night and ordered a set of 7 used rigid stem friends. Fingers crossed that they'll arrive before we leave for the trip.

In the meantime another couple highly anticipated pieces of gear have arrived: my Marmot cloudlight jacket, and my icebreaker 200 leggings. I've been wanting these for months!

Ben got a couple rigid friends on ebay as well, but, more importantly, he's managed to borrow what sounds like a veritable arsenal of cams. When I asked him how on earth we'd carry 500 lbs of gear to the cracks in IC, he replied something to the effect of that's why he loves me. Hah! He's got another thing coming!

Jtree and the first trad lead

2009-03-09T17:57:00.000-07:00

Little do we know...
Originally uploaded by slampoud

This past weekend saw another successful JTree climbing expedition. We met at the park entrance on Thursday night and snagged the last camping spot at Ryan Campground, after finding Hidden Valley full.

On Friday morning we visited white lightning on the Hemingway buttress. This was a route we'd intended to do with Dima in the summer, but it had been mobbed then, so we had instead done Feltonean physics. This time we made it there before anyone else and Ben led right up. As we were coming down to toprope poodles are people too, two guys, one with a stereo playing Bob Marley in his pack, free-soloed white lightning behind us. Ben did fine on the poodles, but the crux defied me. Given time I would have gotten it, but I wanted to move on and also into the sun, because it was quite cold in the shade. So we moved on to mindless mound and got on Maggie's farm. We unanimously decided it was awkward. We got the rope stuck rapping down to the right of the route, but were planning to go up rainy day women, anyway, so we left it there. This was a straightforward route except for one spooky long move at the end. Anyway, we retrieved the rope and got off the mindless mound. In the future, I'd really like to do don't think twice, a beautiful 5.9 crack in a dihedral, with a little roof, to the right of the two routes we did. We called it a day after that, and gobbled the chili I'd brought from home back at the campground.

On Saturday we decided to head towards dappled mare, a 3-pitch route on Lost Horse Rock, that we'd heard was really high quality. But then we opted for a 5.7 alternative called the swift to the left of that. As it turns out, we did the first pitch of the swift, but then accidentally went left instead of right in the second pitch. That means we did the second pitch of altitude sickness. After that I claimed we should go left, but Ben, being in the lead, decided to go right. As it turns out, the route to the right was a 5.10a, which Ben aided up. When it came time to clean it I was cursing and hanging and trying to pull the dozen pieces he'd placed. The climbing moves were not that hard, but hanging off a tenuous left arm while trying to pull out gear with the right, and no feet... not so doable. Eventually I decided "fuck this rigid friend" and climbed up. I sent Ben down, only to find out that, "oh, that.... that's fixed gear, it's not mine". I swear, I could have dropped him right then! Anyway, he toproped that section and agreed the climbing wasn't that bad, but both leading and following it was a pain. The view from the top of Lost Horse Rock was absolutely stunning, so we hung out up there for a while. We then got to the base, took a short nap, and decided to visit an old nemesis of mine, music box at Belle campground. Ben led this cold, miserable crack in so much style! When my turn came I remembered why I hated it so much: the thing is completely off-every-limb-I-possess. I was camming my wrist and jamming my arm and trying to grovel up that bastard, but the rope ran under a cam so Ben couldn't take very well, and, well, I just gave up after falling a couple times. That crack is a fucker! Pissed as hell, back to dinner at the campsite and everything felt better.

On Sunday we decided to play around the jumble of rocks at the base of Headstone Rock near the campground. We first did the two short classic cracks on the Eastern side -- tall boulder problems really, just like finger food. While we were setting up toprope anchors for those, I accidentally dropped Ben's water bottle down a crevice to the left of the climbs. I was going to leave it there, but I had 5 minutes to spare, so I went hunting for it. After much grunting, dirt and mouse poop in the face I found not only Ben's, but also Ethan's water bottle, three BD bent-gate biners and an original Chouinard oval biner! Booty! Anyway, after enjoying those two cracks, we moved clockwise around the jumble to two more cracks and the face between them. After that we decided to have proper lunch for a change, instead of the power bars of the previous days, and, let me tell you, that made a huge difference! From now on I'm doing real food for lunch while climbing! After lunch we sent a 10 second wonder scoop-to-crack problem on the west face of the Headstone jumble, and then rambled on to the East towards several other rock outcroppings and the ruins of the Ryan ranch. After circling those to no avail we decided to head to some slabs to our south. When we got there we found a couple vertical but not very worthwhile cracks, and one big arcing traverse. I decided this would make a reasonable practice trad lead for me, since the climbing would not amount to much, thought the granite was granola, and the pro placements should be straightforward. So I borrowed Ben's rack, and I led that thing. It went well, and I belayed Ben up and we sat in the wind and setting sun and enjoyed the high of a big first for me. If that route doesn't already have a name, I think "solar ecliptic" would suit it.

Jtree misadventures

2009-02-16T17:52:00.000-08:00

Ben and I met up with a bunch of other folks at J-tree this three-day weekend. We got rained out today, but Saturday was gorgeous, and yesterday was a good climbing day despite the cold.

On Saturday we went to Feudal wall and Short wall in the Indian Cove area. We warmed up on Donna T's crack on the Short wall (a supposedly 5.5 crack that I thought was much easier than that). Then we climbed Court Jester, a 5.7 off-width, and the Castrum, a 5.10a just to the left of it on the Feudal wall. Finally we went back to the Short wall and sent Toe Jam express and S.O.B. in style.

Sunday was a lot more eventful. We went to the Echo Rock area planning to get on Double Dip, which Chiru had suggested might be a good first lead. Our friends jumped on that first, so we moved a little to the right, to Stichter Quits, a 5.7 slab climb we'd seen a couple climbing. We talked to them and they assured us it was "mellow" if a little run out. So Ben got on it, but didn't have the stomach for it first thing in the morning, so I took over after the first bolt. I led up to the fourth and final bolt before the anchor. I took a fall between the third and fourth bolts, but it was nothing to write home about; tried the move a more direct way and made it. Then I realized the run-out was basically the top 40% of the route, and decided I wasn't really cool with that long of a potential fall. Ben toproped it from the fourth bolt, made the same decision about the run-out and we bailed -- note to self, I owe him a biner -- essentially having made it 60% up the route. Still, it was a super fun lead while it lasted...
We then decided to move to some of the routes further back and to the right from Echo rock. We got on Eff Eight, a 5.8 flaring, left-sloping crack. Ben was making his way up this awkward beast, having placed two cams, when he called for a take and took a fall. The rest happened really fast: the top TCU pulled and Ben decked just to my left as I flew 3 or 4 feet up the rock. The first piece held. I was looking at Ben trying to figure out how he'd landed and what was broken, but he assured me I'd caught him and it had been a soft landing. Then he went, "you can lower now", and that's when the silliness of the situation hit me: Ben was on his ass on the ground and I was locked off four feet off the ground, hanging off a piece of pro that had just taken a giant load and could pull out and dump me on my ass any second... So we put a toprope on that bitch and climbed it, and decided any crack crumbly enough for gear to pull out of qualifies as choss.

Just before toproping Eff Eight we'd seen a guy free solo a crack across from us on the back side of Echo Rock. So on the way back we threw a rope on it and climbed it. That was Finger Food, a 5.10a.

So now having climbed two 5.10a's, I'm forced to say they must be rated that high because of the difficulty in leading them, because as toprope climbs they really don't rate 5.10a in my book...

After Finger Food, things got really cold really fast. We checked out Echo Cove and decided against any of the routes there, and called it a day.

So, yeah, two lead falls on the new rope, one of them 13 feet to the deck after a TCU pulled. And my whole right side, the one that stopped Ben's fall, is killing me. But Ben's alive, which is about as good as it gets.

Maintenance

2009-02-10T17:51:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was supposed to be a "maintenance" low key day at the gym. However, I did a 5.7, 5.8, 5.9, a hard traverse and a v2 at least. So much for maintaining.

El Cajon and Woodson

2009-02-01T17:50:00.000-08:00

This was a really fun climbing weekend, my first in San Diego. Ben drove down Friday night, and we had cheesesteak sammiches. On Saturday morning we drove out to El Cajon mountain. We made the approach in an hour and forty minutes (where the guidebook said an hour and a half) and I nearly died. It was a long, hot, uphill slog. There was a party of three on Leonids and a pair on Crystalean, so we went even further left to No Burritos. We could tell a couple bolts were damaged but were hoping things would look up further up. Ben went up and protected a couple spots with cams only to find there was no good way to reach the closest anchor. So he built an anchor with cams and lowered off, and we resolved we'd rap down to them from above to retrieve our gear. We then went even further left and started up the 5.5 ramp. We turned left at the bolted two pitch route Buffalo Brothers and went all the way up that. It's rated 5.8 on the diagram and 5.7 in the text of the guide book, but I think 5.7 is about right. It was really fun. We then rapped down, traversed the ramp and rappelled down the line of Crystalean, making a stop and a short lead up to retrieve our gear, and then all the way to the bottom. Then Ben toproped what looked like the first pitch of Crystalean. The downhill de-proach was far faster than the approach, but no less unpleasant to rickety-kneed me.
Sunday we headed to Mt Woodson, another place with an uphill slog of an approach. We were fascinated by Lie Detector, which was way too hard for either of us to attempt, but were resolved to try our luck on the Robbins crack on the back of the same boulder (technically the backside of the same crack, in fact). We dilligently did the warmup problems on the boulder behind Robbins, but they were scant preparation for the real deal, which the guide calls "sweetest 24ft crack in the world". Ben started up, fell on his first placement, then aided the rest of the way up. I flailed up, hanging on the rope a couple times. Actually, someone must have been watching me top out, because there was cheering and clapping, but it was embarassing. Then Ben toproped it and slipped once, but otherwise did fine. Then I messed around a bunch, discovering that if I focused on two hand jams and only a left foot jam I could get through the bottom hard section a lot faster and without barn-dooring off to the right. Then Ben flew up it and broke down the anchor. After that we hiked to the top of the mountain and sat in the shade realizing that we were completely good and spent. We headed down, pausing to send a 5.8 hand to off-width problem, but then called it a successful day. That Robbins crack is going to eat my brain until I get on it again, I just know it. I'm now determined to practice my jamming skills like mad.

Rack

2009-01-27T17:50:00.000-08:00

Today was a momentous occasion: I celebrated the one year anniversary of starting to climb. Not that I'd never climbed before, but it was end of January or early February of last year when Wil and I resolved to climb consistently and started going to the gym. Or was it later? Because I moved into Winthrop in April... Hmmm. Anyway, one year anniversary is what we'll call it. So I bought a used rope, a 10mm Mammut, and started (well, properly, continued, since I've had tri-cams for a while) a rack.
I am now the proud owner of miscellaneous curved nuts with smiley faces, between sizes 12 and 3, #1 and #2 C4 camalots, a dozen neutrino wire gates , 8 dyneema slings, and 3 more metolius quickdraws. My tri-cams span the small gap between my 12 nut and the #1, so I have a pretty big range covered.
I'm not dying to go out and use this stuff so much as I'm dying to go out toprope soloing, so I may do that soon.

Trapped in Greece

2008-12-25T17:49:00.000-08:00

I've been watching mountaineering documentaries and reading books about sailing and climbing expeditions, as I'm trapped at home with my parents in Greece. Right now I'm re-re-re-reading "Sea, Ice and Rock", which I've had since 1996, and which has certainly played a big role in forming my obsession with sailing and climbing. I like Bonnington's explanation of the qualities he looked for in crew:

They also had to be congenial. Congeniality may be defined in a number of ways, but for crew I mean competent, hard working, willing, plus a good sense of humour. There is nothing worse than confining several people in a small boat who do not get on, and good humour overcomes most situations.

Heller Rocks

2008-12-19T17:48:00.000-08:00

I've failed to document a couple adventures over the last month.

We took another trip to Owen's river gorge on the weekend after Thanksgiving, during which I was getting over a nasty cold. We spent one day bouldering in the Happies, one day in the Inner Gorge (which was mobbed) and one day at Heller Rocks. At Heller we did just one 5.7 trad route which caused me to come up with the designation 5.7 "T" for terrifying. The rock was really really loose and Ben kicked down a boulder, pieces of which landed on my helmet and back.

A couple weekends ago we decided to head to Owens' Ridge. We camped at Heller in 40 mph-gusting 60 winds, survived the night, but woke up amidst sleet and inside a cloud. We aborted the idea of climbing and drove to Death Valley via the Trona Pinnacles, which neither of us had seen before. DV was also cold and windy and not showing particularly well, so we returned to SB on Saturday night. On Sunday we went to Sespe, but the black wall was cold and windy. We continued to the Potrero John trail, thinking the climbing routes of the same name were off the trail, but a couple miles in we'd found nothing. We did an epic approach to a super chossy spot which we decided against climbing, and, on the way back, found out that the routes were on the other side of 33, closer to the black wall.

Golden Chasm

2008-11-25T17:47:00.000-08:00

This past weekend Ben and I decided to check out somewhere that hadn't burned in a brush fire -- or at least, not recently -- so we headed out to Golden Chasm, which is this area near Upper Oso, off Paradise Rd. The approach to the crag was epic: hot, no path, bushwhacking, sandy soil, rocks that weren't. We decided to deviate from the destination to check out this other crack and that sapped more energy. Eventually we got to where the routes proper were supposed to be, only to find the rock super soft, and the bolts super rusted. We decided we weren't up for the risk, and turned back, for the epic de- or re-proach.

We rounded out the day with a phenomenal lunch at the Los Olivos Grocery Store, and a bike ride up Foxen Canyon to Fess Parker for some wine tasting.

Malibu

2008-11-17T17:46:00.000-08:00

This weekend we spent Saturday at Malibu Creek State Park, where we climbed four routes (and I led my fifth, Scarab, supposedly a 5.9). On Sunday we went back to Pine mountain for fooling around on boulders, which was incredibly fun. Smoke inhalation has been the name of the game...

Eureka & Bishop

2008-11-13T17:45:00.000-08:00

This past Tuesday was a holiday for Ben, so he took Monday off, too, and we headed to the Eastern Sierra for a four day adventure. We took off on Friday afternoon and, after finding Red Rock Canyon full of people, decided to camp in the wilderness somewhere. We ended up in a dry wash off of 178 towards Isabella, next to a fence separating us from BLM land. It was a really pretty spot with a sweeping view of the valley below. Very cold night, but my new sleeping bag is something else!

On Saturday morning we proceeded towards the Eureka Valley Dunes, where we hung out until the afternoon. The dunes were gorgeous, but there were tons of people there, including a school bus full of teenagers. We continued on the South Eureka Valley Rd past the dunes, hoping to find a backcountry spot to camp in overnight, but there were spots in the road that were really fine sand, and the forecast called for rain overnight, so I was loathe to be caught on the other end of those. We headed back on Big Pine Rd, and stopped to climb on some boulders on the right of the road, on the first uphill section after the valley. We top-roped one route and then found a spot to camp off a dirt road nearby. There was an abandoned gravel sorting and loading type place nearby that we explored in the moonlight, and then we crashed. It rained and there was quite a bit of wind and lots of lightning overnight, and we woke up to snow on the surrounding mountains. We were just below the snow-line ourselves, and the views of un-snowed Eureka valley and snowy surrounding mountains were amazing! What a way to wake up! We gave the tent some time to dry out and headed out.

Back in Big Pine we decided to head up to the Glacier Lodge, which I'd never been to before. From there we hiked the South Big Pine Creek trail for a few miles, until the snow got too deep in the switchbacks towards the first lake and we had to give up, Ben being in his approach shoes and me in pants that didn't go down around my ankles, even though I was wearing backpacking boots. My Lowa backpacking boots need to be replaced, by the way. They're really uncomfortable. We then headed up to Bishop and checked out the Pit Campground that climbers usually get stuffed into. It was awful, so we headed up to the Pinion Site and camped in the Pinions. Dinner in Bishop and then a tour of the hot springs between Tom's place and Mammoth. Eventually we ended up in Wild Willy's, which was fantastic.

Monday and Tuesday were spent climbing the Upper Owen's River Gorge. We tried going down the Trinity rappel, but the approach to the rappel station was a pain in the ass, so we backed up and walked down the approach a little to the North. First Ben led Crotalulsley challenged, which I seconded, and then Step right up, which I also led and really enjoyed, despite the mind-game in one particular transition from the face to the arete. Ben then led Cinderella and It's the gaaazzz, both of which I seconded. I then led P.D. time, which had a couple long moves, and Ben toproped Pet trackers off the same anchor. Dinner in Bishop, at the wonderful The Petite Pantry, and then a further tour of the hot springs. This time we lucked out and the dude who'd been hanging out at the tub was leaving just as we got there, so we had it all to ourselves. It was a brilliant clear night with a near full moon and the view of snowy Mammoth mountain was unbearably gorgeous.

The next day we'd planned to try to do Flailsafe, which the guide calls a 'trad adventure'. Ben had scored an additional #4, and a #5 cam the night before at Wilson's. We got to the base of the thing, which was next to the river, with literally five square feet of space to work with. There was an initial off-width section to get to the top of a boulder, and the real route would start after that. So we got up it, all prepped with pro and two ropes, only to decide that the real route had a few sections that would be a little too run out, given two #4s and one #5. So we wrapped a giant boulder and rapped back down. We'll have to revisit this in the future, I'm sure, and I'm not so sure I'm looking forward to it. It looked really hard. We then got on Nice jugs, Hole in the wall and C-4 yourself. I abandoned the second, because it looked like a pain in the ass to get into the hole, but had a really fun time with the initial slab on the latter. Of course I fell off the roof section, but it was fun falling. The drive back down 395 at dusk was incredibly beautiful. Then dinner at the High Sierra cafe and back in SB by 10:30.

2008-11-06T17:44:00.000-08:00

Forgot to mention that I did my second lead at Crag full o' Dynamite a couple weeks ago. It wasn't The Good, The Bad and The Ugly (which I've toproped several times now), but rather the shorter, but, in my opinion, prettier route to the right of it. Left of Tuco and left of the super short one, I think. Anyway... Yesterday evening Ben and I went up to Fire Crag and I led the super easy 5.7 on the left. Two bolts. Sigh... Then I couldn't do the 5.10 that comes out of the cave to the right of the gully and left of Grib dat Hole. Double-sigh... My head wasn't in it. It was the most gorgeous sunset ever, though!

This weekend we're planning a trip to Bishop. We're going to try to stop at the Eureka Dunes for a day, or maybe overnight, and then head to Owen's River Gorge for some sport climbing. There's so much good stuff up there! I'm looking forward to hitting some hot springs, too!

Yosemite and Joshua Tree

2008-11-04T17:41:00.000-08:00

I spent last Tuesday-Friday at Yosemite, and Friday-Sunday at Joshua Tree, climbing with Ben and Dima.

I got to Yosemite on Tuesday night, via Tioga pass, possibly on the last or second-to-last day of the year when it was still possible. I'd wanted to leave the car near Tuolumne campground and head into the backcountry up there in the high alpine stuff, but they didn't want cars parked on the side of the road overnight, so that wasn't possible. Instead I went down to the valley and stayed at Camp 4 on Tuesday night. On Wednesday I headed up to Little Yosemite Valley, and camped there. On the way I had the most incredible encounter with a gray wolf, maybe a quarter mile before LYV. We stood there looking at each other for minutes... I was spellbound! Thursday morning I got up at daybreak and day-hiked up to the base of Half Dome. The weather was closing, and the cables were down, so I didn't go any higher. The same afternoon I backpacked back down to the valley, arriving at the bus stop at Happy Isles literally two minutes after it started pouring rain. I got my crap together and decided to drive back to the boat instead of staying another night just for the pleasure of getting my gear wet. The drive back from YV via 41 to Fresno in the rain and the gorgeous evening light was the most fun I've ever had driving, and the car got an incredible 29 mpg in that section.

Friday afternoon Ben picked me up and we headed to J-Tree. Dima had got a fantastic campsite at Belle Campground. The next morning Ben dragged our asses out of the sleeping bags at 6 so we could get a climb in before sunrise. We did 'Diagnostics' before breakfast, and 'Music Box' after. Actually, the latter spat me out and I cracked my shin. I was pissed and nauseated for the rest of the morning. We then went to Split Rock, where we did 'Invisibility Lessons', some other ugly 5.7 thing up a rock off to the right from it, and 'Continuum'. The next day we got on 'Touch-and-go', which spat me out where the crack got too wide for me to jam and I was too pumped to sit around and figure anything else out. Then we went to Hemingway buttress and did 'Feltonean Physics', which also had a nasty wide crack section in the bottom that one could avoid by going left. I had never climbed cracks before, so this was my big lesson in jamming. It went pretty well, I thought, though my hands were a bit sore a couple days later. I also learned there's nothing more miserable than seconding on too tight of a belay (which happened on Continuum), and seconding through a section where your leader chose to go through some giant crack because it was better protected than the rated route also sucks (this happened on Feltonean Physics). Note to self: first climb of the day needs to be a warmup, otherwise I end up injured and pissed.

Dome rock

2008-10-19T17:41:00.000-07:00

Last weekend was spent at Dome Rock with Ben, the week in between at Dan's. The week before had been New Mexico. All in all, this homelessness has been enlightening and entertaining. For the rock climbing logbook: at Dome Rock we did Tree Route and Last Dihedral, a couple slabby things, and a really pretty dihedral crack, which I think is the first pitch of the asteroids route (can't remember the name of the route), on toprope.

San Ysidro and Gibraltar

2008-10-15T17:39:00.000-07:00

We climbed in San Ysidro on Saturday and lower Gibraltar yesterday. San Ysidro was actually mobbed, but it turned out OK. Yesterday's climbs were really really beautiful.

Doctor leader

2008-09-20T17:40:00.000-07:00

Defended on Friday. Led "He who double crosses me and leaves me alive, he knows nothing of Tuco. Nothing." today.

Sespe

2008-08-24T22:50:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I went climbing at Sespe gorge with Dima and Pete and did the first two pitches of the tree route and the first pitch of a 5.7 crack to the left of the three. Super fun day! Still sick today, and taking a turn for the worse, so I'm starting on antibiotics.

2008-08-13T22:37:00.000-07:00

I really de-trained during my trip to New Mexico and now I have to get my climbing form back. Since climbing isn't one of those things that come naturally to me, but rather something I have to work really hard at, it takes a lot to keep me in shape. So I went to the gym both yesterday and today, and I'm going again tomorrow. I don't do really hard cranking, just run up and down some easy routes and work a little on a medium or two. Basically, I'm just making sure my muscles get a little stretched each day.

The beginning

2008-08-03T18:41:00.000-07:00

I should probably start logging my climbing exploits at this point. Spent all day at San Ysidro yesterday, with Ben and Dima. I did 4 routes to their 6. There's a really gorgeous 5.10a I want to try sometime... Only got up to 5.9- yesterday. A little sore behind the knees today, but not too bad.

Bouldering

2008-07-14T17:36:00.000-07:00

My fingers are raw from bouldering. What a lightweight I am!

Rock II

2008-05-10T17:35:00.000-07:00

Wil and I are taking Rock II and then the lead climbing clinic. I think I might also do the climbing competition, because they're raffling off some pretty cool gear. So, anyway, the point of this post was to express a) my utter delight at loving building anchors, and b) my utter amusement at climbing lingo. On the second point: I've now learned that very strong anything (anchors, bolts etc) is "bomber"; information is "beta"; artificial protection is "pro"; and so on and so forth. The whole thing is pretty entertaining :-)