Climbing Rocks that are Red

The view of distant "red" rocks on the drive into the State Park.

I would never have thought it possible for me to find a rock climbing partner online while I was on a huge road trip, but it happened. Since climbers meet up in parking lots and campgrounds all the time, particularly in hot areas like Yosemite, the surprise was more from a view of my personality. On the introvert side of the personality spectrum, I'm not usually the out-going-strike-up-a-conversation-with-a-total-stranger type. Then there's the strange way I found the guy: picture an online dating site, but for climbers looking for climbing partners rather than dates. I posted a partner request on ClimbFind.com and got some responses for Southern California/Yosemite and one for Red Rocks just outside of Las Vegas, NV. I exchanged emails, text messages, and then phone calls with the one from Red Rocks and arranged a few days of camping and climbing.

On the hike in to climb Solar Slab, day two. A Joshua Tree in the foreground on the right, Brad in the lower-left corner, and the tan colored Solar Slab itself on the right side of the shadowed canyon directly above Brad.

After visiting the Hoover Dam area, I drove into Las Vegas, snagged a coffee at a local Starbucks while checking my email, and then straight through to the BLM campground just outside the Red Rocks State Park where I met Brad. We headed out that afternoon and explored the Magic Bus, a rather larger chunk of orangish-red rock about a 10-15 minute walk from the parking area. There were about 4-5 sport routes that we led with draws and top-roped. Brad took a pretty nasty leader fall on one of the last 5.9 routes, shaking him up pretty good, but he found redemption while flashing it while on a top-rope. The rock was rad: bullet sandstone of incredible color coated with a black varnish that weathered at a slower rate than the rock underneath forming 3D plate-like features all the way up the face. One of the routes was mixed trad gear and bolted protection and while leading it I got addicted to sinking solid stoppers in the waiting constrictions. Everything that I had read about Red Rock trad climbing was that the cracks readily accepted passive pro, and while initially apprehensive, I quickly agreed. Thus we were stoked to plan a bigger day of climbing the next day.

Leading Pitch 1 of Hangdogger Select. Notice the black varnish on the face: lots of bomber hand holds and fun "chicken-heads" to climb on.

After eating a lot of food for dinner and being treated to banana bread warmed over a skillet for breakfast the next morning, Brad and I meandered down the trail to reach the approach of the Solar Slab. We spent the majority of the morning on Hangdogger Select, a traditional 5.8, which tops out on an upper level from which Solar Slab (5.6) begins. I messed up on the belay of the first pitch, not going far enough before building an anchor, taking up precious time of our day. But we made it to the base of our intended climb early in the afternoon, almost sweating from the sun's radiant heat. Brad busted out a clown wig and sent the first pitch, including a classic hand crack, with style. We made it up 3 pitches before bailing due to cold and the impending night. It's crazy to go from the heat of the sun to shivering in a breeze and shade within a matter of hours. Rappelling off the larger ledge became somewhat of a fiasco since our ropes got stuck on the first pitch. We were sharing the rappel anchors down Solar Slab gully with a group of three girls from Outward Bound and were thankful to being able to use there ropes and help setting up the descent, even though getting down with 5 rather than 2 was more time consuming. Thankfully (not without many silent prayers) we made it out to the truck safely and with an epic story to tell.

Brad sporting his wig at the first belay on Solar Slab!

Leading Pitch 2 of Solar Slab. The giant flake was pretty simple to climb, but pretty scary to protect.

The next day, we were dragging pretty good due to extent of the day before. So we drove around and scratched our heads on what we wanted to climb. There is so much rock in the state park it's not even funny! I've seen at least 4 guide books to the area now and every one of them had routes in it that the others didn't and I wouldn't be surprised if there are other climbs out there that are newly climbed but not recorded. Not to mention the first ascent potential for an energetic team interested in new-routing... Back at the campground, Brad and I exchanged some final stories, contact information, and handshakes and I drove off into the sunset of the desert intent on making it around the Southern Sierras of California before making camp for the night.

Eldorado Canyon

I met Alex in Laramie Friday afternoon and got a brief tour of the Ag facilities on the UWyo campus. Being in an academic environment, especially in a graduate school arena, makes me want to go back to school. Although I feel the draw of skiing, climbing, and no studying for the next year more. After some brief packing at his house, Alex and I were off in a two rig caravan toward Golden to visit our other “brother from another mother,” Nathan.

As usual the traffic in Denver was atrocious, particularly if you’re a down-home Montana boy who doesn’t experience bumper to bumper action very often. When we met up with Nathan, he escorted us to downtown Golden for some pizza and brews at Woody’s: it was fantastic! And the conversation was first-rate as well. It is always good to catch up with old friends. Back at the apartment we schemed together for the next day’s adventure in Eldorado Canyon near Boulder.

Historical roots of Colorado climbing, and the rest of the world for that matter, run deep in Eldo (the affectionate nickname used by most climbers). Names like Roger Briggs and Layton Kor got their start here. It was this generation of Colorado hardmen that paved the way for modern day free climbing. They revolutionized the thinking of the average climber, first by aid climbing unbelievable lines and then discovering that they could be climbed free (using ropes and protection, but without directly pulling or standing on anything but the rock). Test pieces like the Naked Edge (5.11b) and the Diving Board (5.12?) are still the material of climbing movies and magazines.

And there we were, surrounded by all the past. We were fired up to climb together before arriving, but the feeling in the air took it to the next level. Our little crew geared up and threw ourselves at the 5 pitch Bastille Crack (5.7). The guidebook we had said that this climb is the second most sought after in the canyon and internationally renowned. I think its claim to fame is due to several factors: it’s very close to the parking lot, it’s a moderate multi-pitch, and it’s a great crack climb in an area that doesn’t have a whole lot of them. With 3 people climbing it was quite the endeavor reaching the summit of the Bastille, but each of us climbed solidly and with purpose. Tired, hungry, and thirsty upon reaching the top, we retreated back to the car for lunch and another plan of attack.

We decided on Breakfast in Bed, a one pitch 5.8 that we wouldn’t have a problem finishing before the day was over. In the parking lot, we were accosted by a gal on a bicycle who introduced herself as Megan. She was up by herself and looking for some climbing partners, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble. Feeling like we didn’t have any reason to say no, we increased our expedition by a member. I led the climb and there are few times when I was scared more on lead. The climbing was peculiar in that the protection was in a dihedral, but the best holds were on the face around the corner to the right of the crack. The holds were “juggy” but the route was overhung and pulling onto the face after placing pro was a bit exposed to say the least. Megan followed me up, removing gear as she came, and then rapped off to rejoin the others. We had been having trouble communicating from belayer to climber all day long and with some more frustrating attempts at conveyed simple commands like “Lower,” neither Nathan and Alex were able to finish the route. However, I’m just happy that some sort of gut instinct prevailed and we all ended the day safely.

The next morning was a little more subdued, and there was a lot less conversation over breakfast, due mostly I think to a lack of energy. But when a couple of Halloween costumes got busted out, the fire was back. We headed back into the canyon with our sights on V3, another single pitch 5.8. As we got out of the car, I recognized the John Gill Boulder, dredging up still some more climbing history from our memories. Needless to say, we had to scramble around on it in our costumes for some pictures… The approach to the day’s climb was long, taking about 35 minutes up a steep hillside. It never hurts to be warmed up for a climb though. The route turned out to be a superb crack climb in a dihedral nestled amongst two fins of rock. I could see the bottom from the belay on top and communication thankfully never was an issue that morning.

Back at Nathan’s apartment, Alex and I packed up our gear and we all said good bye. Eldorado Canyon has a lot of history in the climbing world, and it now has a connection to me. I will never forget these times with some of the best friends I’ve ever had, how climbing brings us closer together, strengthening our friendship and our brotherhood.

The Adventures of the "Chip Off the Young Block" Climbing Team

I suppose this article could be titled "The Conquest of El Capitan". However, as I hammered in the last bolt and staggered over the rim, it was not at all clear to me who was conqueror and who was conquered: I do recall that El Cap seemed to be in much better condition than I was.

Warren Harding, from the American Alpine Journal about his ground-breaking ascent of El Capitan

I can't recall the first time I considered trying rock climbing. My parents raised me outside essentially, starting out by hauling me around in a kiddy-backpack in the summer and in a sled behind cross country skis in the winter. Dad really got into "peak bagging" in Glacier National Park keeping track of the summits he reached. When I was finally old enough (around 11) he led me up Flinsch Peak in the Two Medicine drainage. I was instantly hooked: being the highest point around, you can see for miles and experiencing travels in the high rock is incomparable. Inevitably though, this youngster wanted to be able to climb everything that he saw, including the smooth looking walls I could see from other peaks. The logical step was to start rock climbing to gain the technical skills to climb in the alpine environment and cut my teeth climbing on the chossy stone of Kila Crag my senior year in high school with some buddies from the wrestling team.

That was five years ago now, and I am pleased with the things I've been able to accomplish now. I started traditional lead climbing two years ago and was able to pretty much climb year round while going to school in Texas (and it was a good thing too since I couldn't ski as much as I wanted...). Bringing those experiences back home, I've been able to get my dad into rock climbing and teach him the necessary skills with the ultimate goal of climbing the five designated technical peaks in GNP. The past two summers, Dad was influential in getting us up Walton and Blackfoot with his glacier travel knowledge. Then the rock routes up Wilbur and Split fell in one weekend last summer.

The COYB Climbing Team on the summit of Pumpelly Spire. Do we look tired? 'Cause we were...

The apple never falls too far from the tree, but since I got into climbing first, Dad is a chip off the "young block," eh? Hence the name of our climbing team. We were feeling pretty bomb-proof this summer and ready to conquer anything even St. Nicholaus, the biggest challenge of the Five, but ran out of time and good weather. Thus our dreams sat in wait until this summer.

B7 Pillar and Pumpelly Spire

The quote above from Warren Harding quickly became real to us as we did a two day adventure on the East side of the park with the goal of summiting B7 and Pumpelly in sequential days. Neither are on the Glacier Mountaineering Society's original list of the five technical peaks, but are actually more difficult than any of them. As reasonable day trips (or so we thought), they would be a great shake-down to test our team's skills before attempting St. Nick.

Me at the start of the B7 climb. Pretty cool climbing through the Diorite Sill layer: super solid igneous rock with jams aplenty.

We drove over to Many Glacier early Friday morning and parked at the Iceberg Lake/Ptarmigan Tunnel trailhead. While we were getting ready, a black bear and two cubs tromped by in the trees on the edge of the parking lot. Glacier wildlife has an interesting side to it: they don't really feel threatened by people and thus you can see them acting "normally" in their habitat. The sow never seemed to care that we were even there, which was fine with me since I'm not a fan of using my pepper spray... We made quick work of the trail heading into the lake and navigated up the slope above toward Iceberg Notch. We hiked around the North side of the Ptarmigan Wall to the base of our climb: a 5.7 rated route up a weak point in the face. Dad and I climbed it in 2 pitches before scrambling to the top un-roped through class 3 terrain. The wind was pretty unbearable at the top so we snapped a couple of pictures and hurried off the summit, rapelled back to our packs, and hurried back to our truck for dinner and rest. We even got to meet my mom and her hiking buddy, who were also camping in Many Glacier, to eat dinner and enjoy a celebratory Cold Smoke bought in the campground general store.

The next day, still feeling unstoppable, we drove to Two Medicine lake and caught the boat over to the west side of the lake. To approach the base of the Pillar, you hike up the trail toward Upper Two Medicine Lake, and then veer off to the right up a grassy slope to the face on the eastern most point of the ridge that stretches out from Mt. Helen. Someone has scratched an arrow into the chimney that the route follows giving you confidence that you're at least starting in the same spot as a previous party. The ensuing climb was upper-class, sustained 5.7 for 7 pitches, which included two quick hip belays as Dad followed. We reached the summit after about 6 1/2 hours at 5:50, and quickly made the 7 rapels back to our stashed gear at the bottom by 8:30, scrambling to reach the trail again by night fall. We ended up hiking the trail back to the parking lot in another 2 1/2 hours by head lamp feeling very much like the conquered rather than conquerers of any mountain.

A topo from our climb up the Pillar.

St. Nicholaus

We almost ran out of time again this year to climb St. Nick. With a late starting alpine season due to a cooler, wetter May and June, then climbing B7 and Pumpelly in August, and bow season starting the first of September our dream was going to have to wait yet another year. However, a week of high pressure moved in and we suddenly had a gorgeous first weekend of October. What better to celebrate a nice Indian Summer than with some climbing, right?

Our route in to climb the most iconic technical peak of Glacier followed Muir Creek, none of the 6 mile approach being by man-made trail. We followed a series of elk trails in on Friday morning after fording the Middle Fork of the Flathead River, up and around a ridge and camped at a beautiful small lake nestled in among small trees on the edge of a boulderfield very reminiscent of Longs Peak in Colorado. The next morning we trudged up to the Great Notch, dropped our packs, roped up, and sent one of the coolest mulit-pitch climbs I've ever done. The first 30 feet were the steepest and hardest to protect but were some of the most enjoyable, with some really airy exposure. The rest of the climb was lower fifth class climbing with the exception of a cool 25 foot section of hand and fist jamming. In all, we climbed 4 roped pitches and then rapelled 3 (we carried another 60 meter rope with us to get full-length rapels). After some unfortunate SNAFUs while rapelling, which took more time than really endangered us, we didn't get back to camp until 3:30 and still faced a 5 hour hike back to the River crossing. To our dismay we were deep in the bottom of Muir Creek when it got dark at 8 o'clock slowing our pace to a crawl.

Dad following up a superb section of rock on St. Nick, pitch 3.

While hunting this Fall, I've really begun to have a Love-Hate relationship with elk, but our St. Nick epic has definitely helped by appreciation of them. We were having to hop the creek back and forth to find ground to travel on and becoming worried that one of us was going to fall and hurt ourselves on the slick rock. After saying, "Just a little further" about 50 times until 9:30 we sat down for a final snack break and seriously contemplated bivouacking until it got light again. However, I had remembered that there was coulee that we crossed on the elk trails I mentioned above and saw on my GPS that we had stopped right next to that small drainage. Thankfully we were able to find the trail again and started to really be able to move again high above the creek bottom. It was still extremely difficult to find the trail back down to the level of the river again, and we hiked up and down the hillside several times getting cliffed-out. Finally we found a steep elk trail that led straight to the mouth of Muir Creek: we never would have made it without the elk! I was so tired that I stripped down to my underwear, waded across the river, and walked half-naked the last half mile to the truck.

Dad and I on our fifth technical peak.

It is interesting to think that the epic of St. Nick was really found in the approach and escape, not the climbing itself. The rock from the Notch was fantastic: relatively solid (by Glacier's standards), held protection well, and had great exposure. After all our technical climbing training, practice, and preparation the pinnacle of the summit attempt went like a breeze. It was the bushwacking, carrying heavy packs, and off-trail navigation that worked us over; stuff that we've been doing for years before even thinking we would ever get into climbing vertical rock. But maybe that's the way of things: you can never take things for granted in the mountains. And even when you think you've got it made, the climb in the bag, and the peak conquered, it is the mountain that will always have the last laugh.

Climbing and Skiing

I don't imagine there are too many places where you can rock climb and ski in the same weekend, let alone the same day. Dad and I were able to do both for two weekends in a row! On June 19th we went to Kila's Crag in the morning and then zipped off to the Jewel Basin for some spring skiing. The next week, we drove up to Stone Hill on Lake Koocanusa on Thursday night after work climbed until dark, slept in the back of Dad's truck (complete with new sleeping platform), and woke up to climb until it got too hot on Friday. The whole trip was solid, putting up a total of 5 moderate routes, 4 of which were traditional leads, and doing some anchor building/lead climbing practice. The "Chip Off the Young Block" climbing team is gearing up for some alpine ascents of some technical peaks in Glacier Park this summer, notably St. Nicholas and B7 Pillar. Then on Saturday we drove up to Logan Pass to ski Bird Woman Falls Basin with Brad, a friend from school, and Randy, a friend from church. We wound up circumnavigating Mount Clements and skied down from the saddle between Clements and Cannon, the Krummholz Route and then down the front between Oberlin and Clements back to the Visitor Center. Incredible couple of weekends!

Dad and I on the ridge of Mount Aneas before some great skiing.

Randy and Brad enjoying some sunshine and snow while skinning over the Hidden Lake overlook trail.

The "Chip off the Young Block" climbing team in action.

Brad in the foreground with the Krummholz Route shown in the background (the strip of snow in the center of the picture).

Beyond the Mountain

I just finished reading 'Beyond the Mountain' by Steve House, currently the premier mountaineer in the world. About a month ago, my Dad and I were fortunate enough to attend a presentation by House at the Lodge at Whitefish Lake. He was in the Flathead Valley to update his Wilderness First Responder training for his job as a mountain guide. It's quite an epic story actually: House was leading a pitch on Mount Temple in British Colombia when a rock broke under his ice tool causing him to fall 80 feet, pulling all his gear in transit. He sustained several broken ribs, cracked his pelvis, collapsed one of his lungs, and messed up some vertebra. His summer plans of climbing came screeching to a halt and he was forced to think about guiding instead of doing his own adventures to pay the bills. Amazingly the accident was in March and we were watching him walk around and give a power point presentation in the middle of May. Talk about a fast recovery!

I was very impressed with both Steve's presentation and the book itself. The first time I had really been "introduced" to Steve House was a recent article he wrote for Climbing Magazine called Green Mountain Manifesto. In the article he is pretty demanding in his call for the climbing community to become more green specifically in their treatment of the mountains themselves. His biggest issue is with fixed ropes, particularly on Denali, and climbers leaving trash behind. It's a tall order to fill, and even House himself falls short and he seems to express that in the article.

The book is very introspective. It was written after House nearly killed himself and nearly destroyed a friendship attempting Nanga Parbat. He began to rethink why he climbs mountains; what he gains from attempting to reach the summit. The style is autobiographical and tells tails of past climbs, including a year studying abroad in Europe where he became hooked, on the road to becoming the best climber in the world. I can relate most to the incredible relationships he talks of building while trusting each other on the sides of immense peaks. Most of my closest friends are those that I have spent a lot of time tied to them with a climbing rope. All in all I would highly recommend 'Beyond the Mountain' to anyone seeking their own reasons for climbing, whether it be 10 ft boulders or 8000 m peaks.

Climbing at the Lost Wall

The Lost Wall in all its hidden glory. Our route climbs the dihedral (book-like formation) on the left.

It's not exactly on the same level as the "Lost World" Jack Black travels to in King Kong, but the "Lost Wall" located in the forests and hills of the Flathead Valley hides is nevertheless a place worth seeking out, especially by those desirous of adventurous rock climbing. Since being home this summer I've made several trips out to this secluded location. Strangely enough the two trips featured two climbing disciplines not often associated with each other: traditional lead climbing and bouldering. Both are specialties that require their own training and technical expertise.

The first trip was with two good friends, Dan and Strider, to climb the 5.9 crack to the left side of the wall. We climbed the 200 footer in two pitches and were able to rap off the chain anchors at the top using two 60 meter ropes.

Me climbing with Dan on belay duty. I'm top-roping the first section that Dan led before running out of gas and lowered.

The second was with a buddy from high school, Ryan, who was in town visiting friends and family and looking for a climbing partner on that Saturday morning. Although the weather had been rather wet over the past week, we decided to go out and explore the potential of climbing in the boulder field at the foot of the Wall itself. We worked a couple of really hard overhanging problem that were relatively dry before the sun came out around noon and started drying things out. We found evidence of other climbers and tried several problems indicated by characteristic chalk marks. The highlight of the day was sending the new route Spayed and Neutered, a razor sharp knife-edge with a hip-shifting top out.

Ryan on Spayed and Neutered on an attempt right before the First Ascent.

My hope is to become familiar enough with the area to be able to take camping trips out there, take laps on the traditional climbing routes, and establish new boulder problems. I've heard rumors of a Montana Bouldering Guidebook that would feature a section on the Lost Wall. It would be great to be a part of something like that.

Pictures to come...

Wildlife Extravaganza

Of the many things that were drilled into my head during High School English classes, I am most mindful of "transitions" currently. Whether you are writing an essay, a research paper, or a book or even telling a story to friends, your main ideas have to have transitions leading from one to the other in order to have logical flow throughout what you are trying to express.

The story of my life has had a lot of change recently and I am thankful that it also follows good "writing etiquette." I've had to shift between school mode and summer mode, between working hard intellectually to manual labor and working with my hands. It's probably not the biggest change I'll ever have in my life, and I've actually done it every summer thus far since High School. However this particular spring sees the move from college life to life after college. (It has struck me as strange every evening for the past 3 weeks that I don't have homework) Making this change special was the segue of the May Wichita Climbing trip that Alex, Nathan, and I took.

Bouldering at Mt. Scott's Upper Wall.

Alex and Nathan both had plans in Texas for the weekend following graduation, but were willing to travel with me up to the Wichitas. We made it to the Visitor Center in the Refuge Monday afternoon, being greeted by high winds and the usual armada of animals. We bought a climbing guide for the area (sounds like we were really prepared, eh?) and drove to the top of Mt. Scott to check out the conditions. We figured it would be pretty wind and weren't disappointed. Thankfully we found a sheltered place out of the wind and bouldered around for a couple of hours, having fun trying different appealing lines and taking some cool photos. Then we drove to Camp Doris, pitched a tent, settled in and had a great dinner of left-over brisket sandwiches.Nathan on the project of the day.

I'll pause in the middle of the climbing report here to talk about the Wildlife Extravaganza. It was really amazing how many different things we saw. Big game: elk, deer, longhorns, and bison. Bugs: lightning bugs, june bugs, a tiny scorpion, and of course the obnoxious mosquito. Creepy-crawlies: a lizard with blue sides, a multi-colored snake, and a big, fat tarantula (not something you see everyday sneaking around your tent, nor do you want to). Then others: rabits, coyotes, geese, bright red birds, and others I probably am forgetting.Just a little bit unsettling...

We rose early the next day rearing for a solid day of climbing. Our goal was the area known as the Narrows, which Alex and I had explored on a previous trip in January. However, due to the wet conditions we were unable to attempt the super classic routes of the area and we were jones-ing for a second shot. Crazy Alice (5.8) and The Dihedral (5.6) were perfect for our goals of improving our crack skills and traditional lead climbing experience. Thankfully they were dry and all three of us made it to Crazy Alice and rapped off in quick succession. Geared up and ready climb Crazy Alice.

Then Alex satisfied his "crack habit"leading The Dihedral, rapping off so I could try my hand at a 5.9 extension called the Flying Nun. This route follows the 5.6 but goes another 25 feet higher instead of ending at the rappel station shared with Alice, pulling a rather impressive roof. The crux was pretty heady since the pro wasn't bomber for my liking, especially when I kicked out the highest nut on the first go. Nevertheless I struggled to the top, ticking off my hardest trad lead to date.

After we all made it up and rappeled back to solid ground, we were still wanting to climb another route with the amount of daylight offered. Choosing Captain Crunch (5.7) we set off around the corner toward the Leaning Tower feature. Once again we were rewarded with a great climb with spectacular views of the whole area: piles of granite left randomly strewn around and the Cache Creek canyon meandering below. Not to mention an airy 120 foot rappel down Leaning Tower Direct. However, anyone attempting either LTD or Capt. Crunch should be prepared for a somewhat sketchy approach. Combined with the wind, it was almost enough to diswade us from climbing the route.

"Monkeying" around while on rappel.

For our final climbing day together, we traveled back to Mt. Scott's upper wall since we figured a quick approach would maximize our climbing time, not to mention there were some routes that Alex had his eye on from the January trip. We climbed two 5.6s, The Sleeper and Yee Haw, both were fun routes with solid placements and fun movement for aspiring leaders such as ourselves.

After climbing that morning we drove back to camp and sorted gear, shared some pictures, and had a big group hug. Then we delayed the final Goodbye a little longer by driving together back to Snyder to fill up on gas. The adventure trio parted ways after a solid trip together, wrapping up our college experience at ACU, looking forward to more adventures in the future. Someone mentioned to me in the midst of goodbyes when I graduated High School that I'll stay in touch with very few of my friends from that time in my life, but it's the people I'll meet in College that will remain life-long friends. This prophecy has been very accurate so far and I know that it will remain so, because amigos like Nathan and Alex will not soon be forgotten. With them both going to grad school next year in Wyoming and Colorado, it gives me ample excuses to visit them in the future.

Showing some brotherly love at the top of The Sleeper.

Thus my life-story goes on. I look forward to continued adventure, exploration, and good times with great people. And it is my hope that every new chapter will be marked with equally fantastic transitions.

Don't listen to Galatians while hiking...

So today was exciting: Eric, Alex, and I went out climbing rocks, like we usually do, but ran into an unexpected visitor. Eric was leading the way on the hike in listening on his iPhone to the book of Galatians in preparation for a rhetoric paper he is working on. Thankfully he was also carrying the crash pad and tossed it around a tree before scrambling through a constriction in the trail. As the pad hit the ground, a buzzing sound erupted from the dirt: we had spooked a rattlesnake! The bugger then decided to make his new home under our pad. "Rattled" as we were, we managed to scrambl around on the boulders above, flip up the pad, and dispatch the snake with very long sticks. I had never seen a living rattlesnake outside of a zoo before, and I don't exactly want to repeat it in the near future. We very cautiously continued down the trail, suspiciously poking every nook and cranny in the rocks and jumping at the rustling grass. We've learned now to expect the unexpected, to hike in boots and pants while in potential rattlesnake country in the summer, and will most likely not listen to our iPods as we walk down the trail anymore...

Projects and Progress

Why rock climbing is so much fun Number 2,562: Projects. Projects in the climbing world happen when you attempt to climb a route at the limit of your ability and don't finish on the first try. It might take someone the rest of the day or the next month or even next year to climb the line from top to bottom. It's common enough that it has even become a verb.

When we were on Spring Break I had the opportunity to watch the climbing video "Progression" and feel that the title sums up what climbing is all about. The sport progresses as it becomes more accessible or more popular as well as when the limits of what we thought were possible are exceeded. In the beginning of climbing route ratings, the Yosemite Decimal System (YDS) was scaled so that 5.10 were the hardest routes that would ever be climbed. These days the grades have surpassed that 5.10 limit and are pushing into the 5.14 and even 5.15 range. On the video mentioned earlier, professional climber Chris Sharma finishes a project that took him years to climb calling it Jumbo Love. It has a proposed rating of 5.15a making it the hardest in the world (of course in the spirit of progression, Sharma has now climbed a 5.15b).

Climbing buddy Matt on my former project, Burlfest, with Eric spotting, Fall 2008.

I will most likely never climb a 5.15, or even a 5.13 for that matter, but I don’t think that’s the point of climbing. My progress needs to be measured in pushing my limits: the difficulty of routes that I am able to climb and the skills needed to scale more and more technical routes. My friends and I have our own personal projects: routes that are at the limits of our ability level, but for whatever reason seem to call to us. The past couple of times traveling to Brownwood have been really special. I’ve been able to see Ben, Mary, Laura, and Eric all climb lines that we have desired to scale for a long time. In particular, I finally got to the top of a climb called Burlfest that I have been attempting since I was a Freshman at ACU. It was such a cool feeling of accomplishment and relief, and I loved being able to share it with my companions. Eric also sent a route that he has wanted to climb since he first began climbing at the lake. You can see how pumped he was at the top of Jack in the Box in the video at Abilene Climbers.

It’s a very powerful thing to be able to set a goal and see it through all the frustration, difficulty, and disappointment until you reach success. When you have to work for something it has more meaning. And when you look back on where you started and realize where you are now, your confidence soars. Like an avalanche you are then able to surmount bigger obstacles, gain more confidence, etc. Makes you want to go and do great things doesn’t it?

Guadalupe Bouldering

As I mentioned before in the Outdoor Club Adventure, Part 1: Guadalupe Mountains, a group of us forged out from camp during some down time in the afternoon for some rock climbing. I've climbed on a lot of limestone since coming down south for school in Texas. Lake Brownwood (Abilene's closest destination), Camp Eagle on the Nueces River, Reimer's Ranch near Austin, and even the world renowned Hueco Tanks are all limestone formations of varying form and quality. The limestone boulder that we found near camp was once a part of the Capitan Reef that I have mentioned in other posts, maybe even rolling from the summit of Guadalupe Peak eons ago to its current place of residence. I imagine if it could speak, it could tell of some crazy events in earth's past. But I don't really see a future in translating rock dialects, so we'll just have to speculate.

I've perused the internet quite a bit for any mention of rock climbing in the Guadalupe area and nothing has revealed itself. Some sources (namely the NPS) cite the poor quality of the rock dissuading people from establishing much of a climbing destination. Looking at the cliffs around, I don't know if I entirely believe that, but it would be beyond my ability to tackle some of the huge walls found on the side of Guadalupe Peak and El Capitan. From what I've seen though it has a lot of potential for being good bouldering alternative to the more crowded and more regulated Hueco Tanks. There is just something about being in a wilderness setting away from a load of people, climbing without pressure, not trying to prove yourself, just scaling the rock because you feel compelled to reach the top by the most difficult means your body can handle.

Me standing next to Martyr's Ladder, which moves from the nasty bush bottom center through the darker water mark and tops out in the "book" between chossy bulges.

That being said, for aspiring First Ascentionists like ourselves, the potentially virgin boulder just begged to be climbed. We quickly established three new climbs on the Northwestern side of the rock: Stage Left (FA myself), Exit Cactus Left (FA Alex Wann), and La Buena Vista (FA Wann). Then we saw a beautiful arete on the North East corner. The line was there, curving up and to the right through a gap in the upper lip of the boulder, but the start was a little questionable. We had discovered by that time that most living things in a desert area like the one we were in are "out to get you" and there was a monstrous thorn bush guarding the entrance at the base of the route. After pulling the bush out of the way to gain access to the rock, I was able to pull into the upper reaches of the problem. The crux move was near the top, 12 feet off the deck, making a potential fall pretty hazardous. I hung on and thrashed my way to the top, avoiding almost certain death by way of man-eating plant. We then dubbed the climb the Martyr's Ladder, referencing St. Perpetua's vision of her martyrdom: climbing a ladder with weapons on all sides and a dragon at the bottom. Appropriate, eh?

Our session didn't last an extremely long time, nor was the climbing itself extraordinarily difficult. Yet climbing in that mountainous setting with a group of solid friends sparked a fire of exploration and adventure within us all and will continue to burn, leaving us psyched for the next epic.

Backyard Adventure Club

I mentioned in my very first entry that my "girlfriend" is an 8 ft x 8 ft piece of plywood. Although this is a slight exaggeration, I wanted to introduce you to several friends of mine that I have had a lot of adventures with since living at 1210 Washington Boulevard.

First on the roster is La Murallita. The climbing club that I got involved with in Uruguay was called La Muralla using the Spanish word for "Really-Big-Wall" (I think it's used when talking about the Great Wall of China for instance). This one is just a much smaller version. La Murallita was a project that a couple of buddies and I cranked out the beginning of Fall semester 2008 when we first moved into this house. It has been an awesome training tool for the actual weekend climbing adventures that I look forward to.

Next is the Little Champ, my '95 Dodge Dakota Sport. Currently it has over 130k miles on it and is still running strong. Complete with a bike rack and a topper, LC has been the ultimate travel companion on road trips whether driving to Texas, back to Montana, or any number of great destinations in between. This past summer, I built a bed platform in the back to facilitate better storage and sleeping space. From the SNOLANE license plate to the window stickers and everything in between, it has become one bad pajama...

Last but not least, the newest member of the club is the Monster. It is thus named because of its immense size, which the friends who I coerced into helping me set it up can attest to. Built by a good friend of mine, Matt, I inherited it last December and it has weathered the change of homes with flying colors. If it looks a little different than La Murallita to you don't be alarmed. It is designed to be used in campus training, where you use only your hands (not your feet) to scale the wall.

Big and small, mobile or not, I've really come to love these back yard residents, and I'm going to miss them when the time to move out comes around.

A Perfect Day

Days like yesterday don't come around very often. Everything just seemed to come together. Eric and I drove down to Lake Brownwood to meet up with Ben and Mary to pull on some good ol' sharp, rough stone. The weather was absolutely gorgeous with blue skies, no wind, cooler temperatures. Everyone there also seemed to be having an "on" day as well: new climbs were scoped, progress was made on projects, and several new climbs were unlocked for first ascents (FAs). To top it all off, I couldn't have asked for a better group of people to spend the day with. Eric, Ben, and Mary have been such inspirational mentors to me with their openness, love for people, and excitement about climbing. Jarrod and John are some cool cats to hang with and it's cool to see the next generation of ACU climbers catch the fire and really attack some projects.

Personally and introspectively, I feel as though yesterday was a good test of my maturity with regards to climbing. I've had difficulty in the past of casting off on my own and trying new routes that weren't previously established. With Eric and Ben as my examples, I established an unclimbed project and finished the difficult FA (now named All Knuckles and Elbows) after being denied many times over the course of the morning. Then while working on the FA of Smooth Sailing Eric, Jarrod, and I tried the route in turn and each pushed the limit of the previous climber. I felt extremely fluid on the lower section and confident for the send but I fell multiple times on the final move. Eric finally gained the FA and instead of feeling angry and jealous, like I have in the past, I felt as much a part of the ascent as my friend. The puzzle we were working on together was figured out and we were both pumped up.

My feet above the newly established All Knuckles and Elbows.

I realize that I will never be a Chris Sharma, a Sonnie Trotter, or a Conrad Anker. Pushing my limits will not push the limits of the climbing world. Yet, I look forward to continuing that journey toward my ultimate climbing potential and having the opportunity to pass on the excitement to others. "Perfect days" like this do a really good job of reinforcing that.

For a more detailed account of the day and all the climbing action, see Eric's entry at Abilene Climbers.

Vertical Plains 2010

I just posted a blog entry on Abilene Climbers about a trip that several ACU students and I took to the Vertical Plains Climbing Festival last February. Please check it out!