Always Upwards

The South Face of Poincenot: A First Ascent Tale

2011-12-21T09:26:00.002-08:00

On the approach to Niponino, basecamp for the route

“Dude, we shouldn’t brew coffee this morning. You know I hate to say it, but I think we should conserve the fuel we have.” I wince at my own words, but know the issues go beyond our ability to caffinate. Joel shakes our one fuel cannister next to his ear to gauge how much gas is left. We share a knowing look, start stuffing the packs, and prepare for a dry day on the desert of stone rearing above our heads. Mike scrambles over from a separate bivy and we share the news about the bunk cannister. A look of confusion blends into acceptance. I begin climbing the steepest part of the wall.

Two days ago, Joel Kauffman, Mike Schaefer, and I picked our way up the Torre Valley to a basecamp suitable for reaching our chosen line, a new set of cracks up the south face of Poincenot. Mike had been kind enough to share his first ascent idea with Joel and I only a few days after his arrival in Chalten. We traced our fingers over a high res photo of the mountain, wondering if we could climb what we thought we saw. Joel and I had camped near the route only the week before and could not stop staring at the wall, especially in the evening light. Mike’s specific details sealed the deal. We all felt inspired to have a look.

Day one finds us approaching the base and then climbing to a distinct ledge system a third of the way up the route. Joel races up the best climbing we could ever hope for. Mike and I hoop and hollar our way up splitter hand and finger cracks. We tackle overhangs on gritty jugs and dance across slabs on shiny ripples. So far, so good.

Joel an I at Bivy #1

Shock gives way to more shock. “Really, you dropped your boot?” My eyes follow the path of the flying footwear. Down the rock, the snowy approach coulior, and finally across a boulder strewn glacier. “We’ll find it on the way down,” Joel says. His calmness in the midst of a serious loss comforts me. Joel knows this game, so there is no reason to pester him with questions. Shit happens. No we have to decide our course of action. Once Mike arrives and we work though his own surprise, we decide that with the relatively warm weather, Joel can manage his toes. Luckily, he fits into my approach shoes. When I’m in rock shoes, he can wear the tennies. When I’m not, well, we’ll figure something out.

The classic nature of the lower pitches ends as abruptly as the headwall starts.My first lead on the wall proper is a flairing trench of kitty litter. Enough solid cam placements make it safe enough, but my heart skips beats on the way to the belay. I gingerly french free off a downward pointing, half driven angle after climbing an aider attached to an ice tool stuck in the trench. The artsy, but crappy stretch launches us into pitch after pitch of sustained, steep fissures. Unfortunately, the rock itself leaves something to be desired and both Mike and I constantly scrape at the cracks with an ice tool.

Myself leading on pitch three of the headwall

Damn, my waist hurts. My tongue stings with cracks of dryness. Mike is crushing through his block, managing complex situations with dialed ease. Now he has changed crack systems and the fate of Joel and I is simple. As we jumar past the first crack we block the thought of the coming swing. With a feature so splitter it won’t take nuts or pitons and a rack that must be preserved, there is no lower out option. If Mike says it’s safe I believe him without question. You don’t climb routes like this with people you don’t trust. Still, puffs of adrenaline accompany my being as it swings through space and then climbs the free hanging rope to the belay. Wildness surrounds me. A great void falls beneath my feet. Mike begins up his final, tired ropelength. “Doing great man,” I say.

Steep jugging!

I arrive at the top of the final pitch of Mike’s block. He is standing on the first ledge we’ve seen all day. Inspired by his awesome effort, I vow within myself to be strong into the darkness. The way shows itself easily, but not without some technical difficulty. 5.11 bulges challenge my wasting muscles. Still, I feel the passion within. This is what I came for.

Free climbing in my final block

At 1:00 AM I pull onto a ledge spacious enough to unrope. Easier terrain rambles into the darkness above. We coax water from the stove and I savor each chilly sip. There is not enough fuel to make our freeze dried meals, but water suffices. I fall deeply into sleep after the last grainy gulp.

The next morning Joel charges out of the bivy, inspired to finish our ascent. He climbs quickly and within one hour we are moving into the established terrain of the upper mountain. Joel fires to the summit as Mike and I try to keep our eyes open. I’m glad he’s feeling strong. The fatigue wants to overtake me, but I can’t let that happen. I squint at Chalten from the summit, so many thousands of feetbelow. There is still so far to go.

I lead the upper rappels. They are short and easy. It’s the least I can do for the team. Before we drop back into the steep wall we had ascended, I hand the gear to Mike, master of big wall rappeling. Deciding to finish the cannister, Joel makes water and some food. My thoughts swim in my dry brain, sludgy and thick. The water again rejuvenates. Mike takes one last swig and drops in.

Bivy#2

“Holy Shit!” Fear pushes at my soul. The biggest rockfall I’ve ever seen crushes terrain across the valley. Though it is far away, I taste the intensity on my cracked lips. Joel’s eyes scan the wall around us, a swath we did not ascend, but similar in it’s steepness. The rappel ropes stretch tight below to Mike. Working through a gigantic rock scar ourselves, we are all a bit unnerved. There is nothing to do but snuff the emotion and accept our position. This is no time to let the mind off it’s leash.

A look up the face during the rappels

By the time the sun is setting we are in the snow coulior beneath our route. Mike has done a brilliant job navigating down the wall. We plunge down isothermic snow, Mike and I in approach shoes, Joel with one boot and a rock shoe. We are zombies. It’s all starting to catch up with us now. We stop after leaving the snow to warm our feet. Our eyes are heavy and our steps unsure. Nevertheless, we keep sharp enough to pick our way back to basecamp through loose stone on black ice. The way is most painful for Joel, every step in his rock shoe a painful and touchy maneuver. Mike and I realize our hands are beaten and infected. The pain is zeroing in. Our moods are tense and dark like the windy night around us. We all recede into our own Hades, doing whatever it takes to stay upright in this evil land. Making our way down a moraine, Mike’s light catches an old plastic boot shell. It’s for the left foot and may provide relief for Joel. The absurdity of finding the boot digs out humor from the grave. We laugh deleriously as gusts of wind push us around. Unfortunately, the boot flops uselessly on Joel’s foot. Still, the way he throws it into the darkness and the jokes we make about the crazy find has us shaking with laughter. The healing power of a good laugh is just enough for us to sputter into basecamp. We lay in the sand. We eat a freeze dried meal. The journey is over.

FA of Rise of the Machines
South Face of Poincenot
VI 5.11 A2+

900 meters (750 new)

Big thanks to Mike Schaefer for the awesome photos. To see more of his great work check out:

mikeylikesrocks.com

Also, check Planet Kauffman in the coming days for more photos and more stories from Joel Kauffman

Vision Restored

2011-12-10T09:37:00.000-08:00

"Accept your situation in the mountains and in life," I think to myself. Waves of puffy clouds spin over Fitz Roy and tumble across the lakes and deserts far below. Calm, warm air embraces my tired body, but my mind twists and my heart wrenches. With so much beauty around me the tightness in my chest makes no sense. My inner self asks, "What is your problem?"

Joel Kauffman on his way to Pier Giorgio

Two days ago, Joel Kauffman and I high fived on the streets of El Chalten after separate escapes from the spreading winter in North America. Blue skies set a frantic pace of stuffing packs and hitting the trail towards our first objective, a new path up a broad fortress of granite and ice called Pier Giorgio.

Fresh quads and calves carried us to the start of the glacier, where a pasta dinner and excited conversation accompanied fading light. Only a few hours later our boots crunched up towards Paso Cuadrado, a rocky barrier that had to be crossed in order to reach our route. Although Joel had been over the pass many times, I had never witnessed the view. A bowl of cracked ice and snow was hemmed in by the western breaches of Guillomet, Mermoz, the mighty Fitz Roy, and numerous other spikes of granite, and aqua ice falls. Of course, I was blown away.

Moving over Pason Cuadrado...what a view!
Photo by Joel Kauffman

Within a few hours we had chosen the smoothest path through a chaotic scene of hanging ice cliffs. Joel kicked up to the intimidating bergshrund, twisted in a screw and begain looking for a place to pull through the bulging snow. One half hour later he was only eight feet higher, digging a trench over the lip, searching for something solid to grab the tip of his axe. Although his effort was futile, it was a proud. The climbing looked desperate. My heart, so wonderfully inspired only an hour before, began to sink into despair. "This isn't how it was supposed to be," I thought.

Bailing always hurts, but the pain is sharper in Patagonia. Good weather can be rare and taking advantage of each clear moment is a must. After deciding to remove ourselves from under the warming, drooping bergshrund we sat on a patch of granite under Fitz Roy, roasting in boiling sunshine. All of the sudden our ice addled minds realized the weather window was actually one for dry rock climbing. Unfortunetely, we had only brought one pair of rock shoes into the range. Our heavy boots and serious crampons did not lend themselves to a light sprint up a rock ridge. Knowing we had played our cards wrong hurt even more. Unhappiness and negativity swirled in by brain. "This might be the only window I get and I blew it" or "Everyone else is sending" are examples of my unruly thoughts. Even the beauty around me felt like a terrible nightmare. It really seemed a taunting titty-twister of a situation.

That evening I lay in my sleeping bag questioning my unhappiness. Why couldn't I be thankful just to be here? Why did my ego demand I climb the right routes? Could I only love myself if I accomplished my goals? Why did I care so much? Over the course of the starry night I tried to find peace. I began to realize that perhaps my vision was out of balance. Was it not enough to have the good health to be here? Was it not enough to witness the setting sun meld into a jagged skyline of rock and ice? Didn't I already know the mountains always win? That when we do stand atop a summit, that it is not a conquering feat, but rather a gift from the mountain itself?

Vision...

Restored!!
Both photos by Joel Kauffman

"Look at this man!", I yelled down to Joel. He smiles knowingly. Two days after our discouraging failure, we've pooled our meager resources and chosen to climb an easy, but classy rock ridge up Aguja Guillomet. Although no where near the challenge we had originally sought, the route still brings me the head space I always strive to be in. Golden plates of tilted granite are broken by perfect fissures. The cracks take my hands like an old friend and lead me over pillows of rock, through breezy cols, and up laser incisions. The tightness in my chest is long gone, replaced by the feeling of freedom I always seek in the hills. Even though the route is not one I've dreamed of, I accept the gift of a summit and feel peace in my heart. My vision is restored. I can see again.

A Life in the Vertical World

2011-11-01T18:08:00.000-07:00

As climbers and humans, we never know when our journey will end. Of course, it is impossible to see the future with all it's unimaginable twists and turns. We wake up each day and take the next step.

Although times to come are hard to predict, the roots of personal evolution can be looked back upon and added up to reach a sum of who we are today. Fifteen years agon I stepped into the Redmond Vertical World for my first time. That junior high after school activity sparked a passion that still drives my life to this day. Since that time I have worked extensively with The Vertical World as an instructor and route setter. Although the last six years have seen me squishing grapes for money, I am excited to head back to the Redmond VW for a slideshow presentation on November 12th. All the adventures I've had so far in this life blossomed from the skills, friendship, and work ethic instilled in me during those dusty days slapping plastic. I am excited to share photos and stories from my journey as a climber that continues on and on, and on...

Suprise, Suprise

2011-10-26T18:39:00.001-07:00

"No fruit tomorrow?" Harvest is a busy time at work, but the rare break between pressing grapes to make wine has me scheming other plans to fill the coming day. By 5:00 AM the next black morning my foot steps mark the muddy, then frosty approach to Sherpa Peak.

Sherpa Peak's NE Coulior

My friend Patrick and I squint at Sherpa's North Ridge, a cool looking feature on a mountain I have only summited once. This is the line we've come to do. Snow decorates the upper reaches of the route and though I have added extra cams and an aider to prepare for a snowy battle on rock, I realize our one day time limit (work!) will not allow us to get the route done. I toss my pack in the talus and search for other options. A coulior rises up the NE face, but I wonder if we can safely manage it with only one axe each, rock gear, and strap on crampons. We came prepared for a wintery ridge climb, but I see ice in the coulior. I really want to climb it. At least we have boots.

Patrick climbing out of the first schrund

I lead off, getting good sticks, well, good stick I guess you would say. Even though the coulior is moderate, late season schrunds break the shoot into short ice and mixed steps. One tool barley gets me through. Ice and snow of all sorts take us to a notch on the east ridge. A wind swept sunshine warms our bodies. I fire up the stove. The coffee tastes so good.

Looking down, high in the chute

The east ridge flows along an orange granite spine. Consolidated snow fills grooves, but leaves the cracks alone. The pro is good and the climbing magnificent. I turn over to the north side and the exposure rips down the face all the way to the basin below. Impressed with the drop I weave towards the summit and then find my path halted by a square block of stone. I stare at the flawless rock. "I don't think I can climb this in boots," I think. Smiling, I make a belay and bring Patrick across the ridge. I dig for my rock shoes and hang my boots and crampons on the belay. This is so cool.

Brilliant mixed climbing on perfect snow and rock defined the east ridge

After summiting, we rappel down to the notch at the top of the coulior. A south side sand slide drops us below the snow line. The crappy traverse over to Sherpa Pass seems to take forever. The slog back over to the north side of the range burns my legs. When we reach familiar ground I lose the trail. I know I am a tired idiot right now. The cairn that I keep circling back to affirms this. Finally Patrick steps on the trail. The tension fades into the crystal clear night. The forest silently takes us home.

Incredible climbing on the east ridge

How Does He Do It?

2011-10-21T08:50:00.000-07:00

Workin'

"How do you travel the world? I wish I could do that."

"Do it while you can. Life takes over sooner than you think."
"You must be made of money."

As a dedicated climber I hear the above comments so very often. What a lot of folks don't understand is that I am not made of money. In fact, I am the definition of a "dirt bag". I live in a one room shack full of climbing gear. I eat cheaply and work long hours to make my expeditions a reality. Many trips find me with only hundreds of dollars in my bank account, a tight figure when you're on the other end of the earth.

Most importantly, I don't let anything, money included, stand in the way of a dream. Yet I also balance that commitment with the terms of an idea presented to me in Morroco a few years ago: Inshallah. Inshallah means "If God wills" or "If God wishes". I scheme for the mountains of my inspiration, but also humbly know it is silly to force a plan. If it is meant to be, it will happen.

You can't walk through life alone and even though I fund most of my adventures, the support I recieve from my sponsors tips the scale in my favor. Without their help my life would be much different.

Pressing fruit with my friends Scott and Ashton during the 2010 harvest

In the past few weeks I have highlighted Mountain Equipment and Tendon as great proponents of my lifestyle. This time, I wanted to shed light on my biggest supporter and employer, Icicle Ridge Winery. I count the folks at IRW as some of my best friends. Their freindship and support of my dreams provides a solid foundation for my life. They encourage my climbing above all else and respect my passion. In turn, I work as hard for them as I can when I am at home. I can't imagine life without IRW. Thanks guys!

Hanging out with friends during the 2011 Blending Party

All photos by Lisa Adams

Cordes

2011-10-13T06:40:00.001-07:00

Over the years I have struggled to keep sturdy ropes in my arsenal. Thinking back to some of the cordes I've climbed on makes me shudder. Hand me down ropes with unknown histories found their place on the mountains and climbs of my inspiration.

The Tendon 9.2 Master on Inspiration Peak in the Southern Pickets

Now days, I have a wonderful rope sponsor, Tendon. If you haven't heard of Tendon you soon will, as the product is starting to hang on the racks of America's climbing shops. I have gone through 7 Tendon ropes in the past year, but that is NOT due to low quality. Expeditions and life as a serious climber tackling different projects in different disciplines demands a lot of cordes. Even just one huge route can cook a brand new rope, unless, it's a...

Tendon 9.2 Master!!

I wanted to specifically out line the 9.2 Master as its durability and performance have rewired my thoughts about what a good rope is. My 9.2 Master has climbed almost 20 mountains in the two months I have been using it. Most of those peaks were climbed while attempting a full enchainment of the Southern and Northern Pickets in Washington's North Cascades. For 6 days we drug The Master over some of the sharpest ridge line I've ever seen. We pulled it across icy glaciers and retrieved its ends from dark moats. We stepped on it with crampons and pulled it down from stubborn rappel stations. Still, it hangs on my wall, in nearly perfect shape, ready for the next route.

As far as performance goes, the 9.2 Master is skinny and light. I barely notice it when it's on my waist or in my back pack. It stays untangled even when tossing it down a low angle rappel and has never once gotten stuck on me.

Tendon ropes, including the 9.2 Master, at a Stuart Range belay just days ago. This was the Master's 17th peak in the last two months. Its still got plenty of life.

So keep your eyes out for Tendon in the USA. Their ropes will follow wherever your adventures take you, time and time again.

They Said

2011-10-12T17:20:00.000-07:00

The three silly amigos, ready for some storm

They said the storm would soak us to the bone. And it did.
They claimed the closing season was overtaking the cracks with ice and snow. And it was.
They said we would stumble home tired from the tempest. And we did.

They said whipping snow flakes would flog the fun out the day. They were wrong.
They yelled at us on the wall as clouds enveloped our bodies and tried to bring us down. But they couldn't.
They told us the view would be obscured in angry clouds. And it was, but then again, we glimpsed so much.

The approach was dry!

We told ourselves we didn't care what anyone thought, we just wanted to be in the mountains, to linger in the moments, and to accept the terms of nature.

The route was....stormy!

These thoughts sprung from a recent training day in the Stuart Range. Even though weather lashed at Jessica Campbell, Max Hasson, and I, we enjoyed ourselves immensley. Some folks along the way tried to discourage our climb, but we knew what we wanted...and we got it!

Pieces

2011-10-05T05:53:00.000-07:00

One of the most exciting aspects of the last year has been growing a relationship with Mountain Equipment, a core mountaineering brand out of the UK. ME has been making incredible gear for over 50 years. Some of the best alpinists of all time have worn ME to the world's highest and most difficult summits.

Already, a passion has grown for the brand. The quality of the line defies expectation and the functionality of the clothing shines in the alpine realm. Although I just started wearing ME this past spring, I have already sumitted more than 25 peaks in the pieces reviewed below. Not one of the items is showing the slightest bit of wear. For those who know me this must be really, really hard to believe. I assure you, it's true!

LS Crux Crew

The Crux Crew is my first layer on any summer alpine trip. It's wicking ability is incredible and even on a hot day I stay cool in this long sleeve get up. This piece is made from a fabric that uses recycled coconut shells. That's pretty cool!

Astron Hooded Jacket

In my world, the Astron is known as "The Piece". This highly usable softshell NEVER leaves the car without me. It cuts wind, keeps out rain, and still breathes well. I wear this piece more than any other and it still shows no wear.

Out for a training day in Liskamm Pant

The Liskamm Pant is very durable, providing reinforced knees. I really like this when I am kneeling on an ice field taking a break, or shoving my knee in a grainy off width crack. The Liskamm Pant also allows maximum flexibilty for hard mixed and rock climbing.

The pieces I have shown above are only a few of my summer season favorites. I am more than impressed at their performance and also that they will join me for another season in the moutains. Quality stuff!

Seasons

2011-10-04T15:35:00.000-07:00

Although fall reigns as THE primo season to crush projects on crisp granite awash in blustery sunshine, my "rocktober" is defined by liquid, not stone. As "cellar master" (that really is my official job title...can you believe it!) at Icicle Ridge Winery my next month will overflow with ten hour days and thousands of gallons of sticky grape juice slowly becoming wine.

My climb time may suffer during this period, but my focus does not. Long work days are sandwiched between rainy runs and bouldering sessions. Once a week I get out and beat myself up in the mountains. We all have to make a living and I am grateful for my job and the ability it gives me to follow my passions.
Out for a training day in the Stuart Range

The fall is also a time when I hone in on the year's upcoming trips. The money I make now fuels my adventures later. I am excited to say that a few awesome trips are lining up for the future year, the most iminent a journey to Argentine Patagonia, near the end of November, to search for ice runnels shining their way up towers of granite. I am estatic to be climbing with Joel Kauffman, a great friend and passionate mountain companion. Psyche is building and every step I make in my daily life points directly towards our goals down south.

Besides working a new and difficult rock project over the past week, I also enjoyed a training day in the Stuart Range. I left my car in misty darkness and followed my feet through a new basin and up a fresh route, the West Ridge of Argonaut Peak. After summiting, I traversed over Colchuck col and down to the base of the Serpentine Arete on Dragontail. Hard rain pelted away my desire for a solo lap up the Serpentine and instead I slipped down the moraine, splashed through the muddy woods, and rallied back to town in time for a gathering of friends.
It's a rocky road...On my way to Argonaut via Sherpa Pass

Can't solo rock in the rain...About to bail from under the Serpentine Arete

Life in Leavenworth, even during the heavy work season, is heaven on earth.

Dreams of Cashmere

2011-09-24T13:26:00.000-07:00

Another day emerges from the darkness

Yesterday, Cole Allen and I ran up into an area of the Stuart Range that was fresh and new for the both of us. We set out from the Eight Mile Lake Trailhead in the pre-dawn blackness aiming to find a hidden wall of local lore.

A beautiful perspective on my home range

The approach was incredible and kept Cole and I in constant awe. The same old peaks dominated our view, but their appearance from a new angle ingnited our delight.

The road to Cashmere

After a detour to Windy Pass and an incredible ridge run while looking for the hidden wall, we found ourselves in a moonscape of boulders right below Cashmere Mountain's West Ridge. I noticed that all of the stone around us was of the highest quality.

Cole between Windy Pass and Cashmere Mountain

On our approach we had noticed that Cashmere's south face was defined by three prominent ridges that divided the rambling swath of granite. The central line, which flowed right to the summit was suprisingly inspiring and was of greater length than the other two options.

Giving up on finding the hidden wall, we dropped under the south face, picked a crack on the central buttress and climbed for over 1,000 feet to Cashmere's boulder stacked summit. The climbing blew me away. Perfect protection, the soundest of rock, and a pure line had me writhing in alpine bliss.

Cole midway up the buttress

A view ahead mid-ridge promised perfect rock and perfect climbing

Mr. Allen at a belay mid-ridge

Although the "South Central Buttress" of Cashmere is not documented in any books, I feel it has most likely been completed before, although I am not sure. What I do know is that this should be an objective for Stuart Range climbers looking for the perfect precurser to the Serpentine Arete, Backbone Ridge (both on Dragontail), or the North Ridge of Mt. Stuart. Besides the 5.8 start, the route never exceeds 5.7, but never drops below 5.5. For the more advanced climber it might offer an incredible solo objective.

Two perspectives on the "South-Central Buttress" of Cashmere. In the top picture, it is the ridge falling to the lowest point. In the bottom shot, the route can be seen directly in the center of the shot.

Fall is the perfect time for this route. The south side of any Stuart Range peak bakes in the summer, but offers perfect crisp sunshine in September and October. If you are looking for a different experiance in the Stuart Range check this route out. Pure joy I say!!

Adventure Journal: Pickets Day 7

2011-09-21T06:48:00.000-07:00

Soft pink light washes through the McMillan Cirque thousands of feet below our high camp under Luna Peak. My hands hurt more than ever today. I exercise each digit until the pain fades into background noise. We stuff sleeping bags, gag on a bar, and start moving. A rolling ridge deposits us at a flat bench below Luna. Above rises our last summit. Below lies our escape path out to the Big Beaver Valley.

Luna Peak

"Let's do it boys," Sol says. He readjusts his glasses, clicks on a helmet and takes off. Dan and I quickly follow him up the talus laden slope and soon we are all at the summit scramble. The top of Luna is a wild perch reached via an easy, but neat set of edges. We spend extra time on top savoring our high mountain lifestyle. We know that within hours our alpine heaven will fade into the darkness of Access Creek. It's hard to imagine life without the glory of the high country. We've left a bit of ourselves up here. Coming down won't be easy.

Dan on Luna

Back at our packs we squeeze out a gu into empty stomachs. Boulder filled basins and steep heather slopes eventually end in the woods. Bushwhacking down is always easier than the opposite so we make good time. Sol leads the way, bashing through anything that stands in his path.

My foot falls onto soft, almost manicured ground. The trail! I feel the intensity of the last few days relax. From here, one foot in front of the other will take us to friends and food. Slogging on the flat trail gives us plenty of time to reflect, but my mind stays blank. I stay in the moment, watching the forest around me, appreciating it's dark beauty.

Dan emerges from Access Creek

We spend the next half day tighting our belts and finishing the trail to the car. By the time we get there the hunger is at a pinnicle of intensity. A bag of chips dies in seconds and soon we are racing for gigantic burgers in Marblemount. All that matters is food. And then beer. And then sleep. The adventure is over.

Lost a few pounds out there!

Adventure Journal: Pickets Day 6

2011-09-19T06:43:00.000-07:00

Ping! Ping! Ping!

Getting ready to rap out of the Himmelhorn/Ottohorn col

I drive home a pin, sling a block, slam a nut into a constriction, and equalize the trifecta of protection. Instead of upward or horizontal movement this morning, I ready myself to start rappeling down the broken coulior and glacier that spills off of the northern side of the Himmelhorn/Ottohorn col. Our plan is to make our way to the south face of the Frenzilspitz, climb it's shimmering wall and then head north.

Dealing with moats on the descent out of the Himmelhorn/Ottohorn col

"Sure glad we didn't down climb this," I think. Standing at the edge of a huge overhanging moat, I kick at the snowy border again and again. I don't want it to collapse on me when I jump in! When I'm finally confident it's safe, I hurl myself over the edge and swing into a pit. I have to unholster the ice axe to climb out the other side. Soon, I am working on another rock anchor to the side of the snow as Sol and Dan slip down the ropes.

Heading for the Frenzilspits

Another rap takes us to lower angle ground. I work across the glacier towards the Frenzilspitz, but when I get close I realize I most likely won't be able to reach the rock. Scary chasms seperate me from granite and the glacier's flimsy edges won't hold my weight.

After a few hours of trying to make it work, I kiss the Frenzilspitz goodbye. I really want its airy summit, but it's not worth dying for.

After deciding to leave this peak behind, we scramble onto a broad ridge that will take us across Picket Pass, over Outrigger Peak, and to a bivy near Luna Peak. Even though we've chosen to forgoe the entire traverse, we are excited to finish our trip as a loop and Outrigger and Luna form a line that inspires us, even if it is only a back up plan.

Sol heads north. Mongo Ridge (bad ass Wayne Wallace!!) rises in the background

Outrigger Peak, which appears to be a major choss pile, suprises us with beautiful orange stone. We have a blast twisting up the ridge, finding secret passages, and climbing a beautiful golden staircase in the steepest section.

Next, we strap on our crampons again and cruise across Mt. Fury's SE glacier. The going is easy and we take in the powerful beauty around us. We follow bear prints off the glacier and onto a bench which we follow into a talus field. A slog to the top of the rocks brings us to a spectacular bivy with running water.

Outrigger Peak on the left, Fury on the right.

I am dissapointed we have failed in our original objective, but I am also thankful and happy to be out in these wild lands at all. All night we stare at the Southern Pickets. They stand in the darkness, like deserted castles from another time. "I may never complete such an incredible traverse again," I muse. The line of jagged peaks is truly unique and terribly beautiful. I scan the moon lit horizon again and then close my eyes. Sleep finds me and takes me away.

Heading for Luna

Adventure Journal: Pickets Day 5

2011-09-17T07:48:00.000-07:00

Dan and I kick it at the Himmelhorn/Ottohorn Col

"Ouch!" Just the slightest bump and my hands burn in pain. The last days of rope handeling and rough rock have taken their toll. Blood pools under my nails and my digits are swollen. None the less, the sun rises again and we have mountains to climb.

We decide to summit The Ottohorn without taking any equipment from our camp. While the first ascent party of the traverse we are currently on rolled over The Ottohorn and on to the Frenzilspits, we have a slightly different plan as we are heading out another path.

The Ottohorn is only 3rd class and we enjoy the easy scrambling. Only 30 feet from the summit ridge our easy route explodes into a fresh rock fall zone. We each push ourselves to try and find a way through the sketchy fresh blocks.

Myself trying to deal with the rock fall zone near the Ottohorn's summit

"I just can't justify this," I say. "We need the damn rope!"

What to do? The discussion continues...

We've failed on the Southern Picket's easiest summit and thrown away valuable time. Discouraged, we arrive back in camp kicking dirt and feeling stupid for not having our gear with us. I start feeling our original intentions for a full south to north summit ridge traverse evaporating in a variety of compounding issues.

We know we didn't-couldn't bring enough enough food for the whole traverse and if we spend the day here, we further deplete the precious stash. We knew we might need a rest somewhere along the lines. Could this be that day?

"Let's eat lunch and rest for a couple of hours," Dan says. "Then, we can take the rope up and bag the Ottohorn. Tomorrow we will descend the glacier and climb the Frinzelspits via it's south face. That way, today is mostly a rest day."

Leaving the col for try #2 on the Ottohorn

After some lounging, we pick up the rope and a few pieces and retrace our steps up the Ottohorn. Instead of tackling the fresh rock scar, we find amazing pitches of 5.7 around the corner. Juggy climbing rambles to the summit that had discouraged us earlier in the day.

Lounging

Back in camp shortly after, we lounge in the sun and search for rejuvination. Our discussion focuses on the realities of finishing our original project. Our biggest issue is food, but short days, on sight maneuvering, and broken glaciers are also slowing our pace. I know if we go all the way, I will have a "power bar a day" rations by the time it's all done. Can we do it?

Adventure Journal: Pickets Day 4

2011-09-16T07:40:00.000-07:00

Quiet dawn lights the sky above our heads. Last night's bivy, in a sharp notch between the east and west summits of The Rake, provided a protected recovery zone. Our obsessive hydrating and good nights sleep has done the trick. I'm ready for another fun day.

Morning ritual at the rad bivy between the east and west summits of The Rake

Sol leads out of the bivy, climbing strongly and quickly. After an hour or so, Dan and I finally join him at a comfy terrace of boulders. I click the pro onto my waist and start up the final rope length of the East Twin Needle. The climbing is exhilarating and I shake my head in awe when the features become clear. Again, unlikely, but solid and fun climbing leads to a pin top summit. Dan and Sol follow with joy. I pull the rope through the belay device and turn my back against the wind.

An incredible arete led to the summit of East Twin Needle

Myself on the crux lead of our trip, pushing for the summit of the Himmelhorn

I'm cold, so it feels good to move off of the East Twin, bag the west summit, and descend to our next objective. Ahead is the golden blade of the Himmelhorn. I'm also scared, as I can already tell my leads on the spire will be full on. I set an exposed belay and bring Sol and Dan over to a stance of loose stone. Within a few minutes I'm tight roping across a sharp horizontal arete that soon cranks its angle to vertical. I fire some gear in and set off into my own world. At nearly 200 feet out, I finally come to a solid belay that takes my last cam and a trucker nut.

Sol arrives at the summit of East Twin Needle

"That was crazy, climbing that pitch with Dan, you at some crazy belay way up there! Wild!" Sol says pulling onto my stance.

Looking back at the ridge we had been climbing for a few days from the top of East Twin Needle

The rest of the Himmelhorn passes with fewer hairs raised. Down climbing and rappelling, we efficiently make it to a fat col before the sun goes down. We hit the final bit of hot chocolate and slurp down freeze drieds. Lumpy rocks poke my back and my bivy slopes, but I fall into dreams before I've even zipped up my bag.

Adventure Journal: Pickets, Day 3

2011-09-15T06:49:00.000-07:00

A light wind flutters over the col as the stove kicks to life in the tent. "Is it four?"
I ask. A simple "yep" comes from Dan. In the darkness we pack our bags for another day in paradise. We hope to climb Pyramid Peak, Degenhardt, Terror, and the Rake, the latter an especially long and challenging route.

Dan climbing beautiful stone on Pyramid Peak

Dan strings up Pyramid finely, making smart route finding choices and using good beta from our friend Wayne. Without stress, Sol and I follow through golden cracks, overlaps, and chicken heads. The climbing unfolds in an unlikely and beautiful manner.

Dan rides the ridge on Day three

"I'll take the rope"
"I've got the rack on me"
"You want to shoulder the slings?"

Myself on the summit of Terror

We break down our system and scramble over Degenhardt. Only ridge top boulder hopping seperates us from Terror. Arriving at the base of the East Face (of Terror) we chose a route through the loose swath. Sol decisevely weaves through the choss up a yellow brick road of incuts and blocks. "No terror on Terror today." The lame summit jokes barely escape our lips before we are scratching down the descent.

"How can we not find a way down!"I say with frustration. "Slings over here!" Sol yells from a gully away. Time is lost as we screw around on what should have been an easy descent. "Should not have made that 'No terror on Terror' joke" I think to myself.

Climbing into the sunset on The Rake

We are finally at The Rake. I know it's late in the day, but I have been saving my energy for this final push. Dan hands me some water as Sol clips cams to my harness. I take off up a wild pitch that ends in a 50 foot runout straight left into a gully. The 5.9 moves make me giddy, but I know the homies at the belay face a dangerous follow. Luckily, we devise a cool rope trick and they free climb safely through the dangerous section.

Dan on The Rake

Without a break I run the rope out 160 feet and place a cam right before Dan begins to simul behind me. Criss-crossing over a beautiful arete I focus on stretching our simul blocks as far as possible. Despite the darkness the climbing is solid and fun. I follow a nice flow through towers and over ledges. The terrain is not complex. Follow the ridge under a rising moon.

Sol on The Rake

"We're there!" I shout. Two headlamps bump towards my stance. Dan hands me a knife and I cut some tat, slinging a pointy horn. One single rope rap nestles us in our wildest bivy yet. Stars burn through the sliver of sky we can see as we chop a snow ledge for the tent. What a cool place!

Dan and Sol on The Rake

Day four on the way...

Adventure Journal: Pickets 2011

2011-09-14T07:00:00.000-07:00

The amazing Southern Picket Ridge Traverse!

My throat burns with acidic vomit as I spit again and again into a moon lit Diablo Lake. Fifteen mountains, a giant cheeseburger, and one too many french fries brought me to this shoreline. I sit on an egg shaped rock and stare up at the forested hills that gaurd the alpine realm. "I should have eased into it," I think, remembering the last days meager calorie intake. Wiping my mouth, I let my mind retrace the ridges, walls, and glaciers of the past week. Even as worked as I am, a smile breaks my face. It was so beautiful out there!

Mt. Triumph from the approach out of Goodell Creek

Day 1
The forest and sky unite in blackness as we meader up Goodell Creek. Before long the steep trees peter out and we zig zag through misty heather slopes and hop between tilted granite boulders. When the Southern Pickets come into view we monkey call and slip down a snow slope, excitement in our heel plunges. A quick water break allows us to scan the razorback ridge that dominates our view. Iconic peaks line themselves up in the swirling clouds as we prepare to kick up the glacier towards our first day's objectives, the three McMillan Spires.

Approaching our first objectives!

Finally, the gear is off our backs. I twist into my harness, tie in, and take off running. My pack is heavy with many pounds of food and fuel, but the freshness of day one allows me to push us up over the towers before the sun sets. Red rays burn the skyline and the bivy is magical. We take in our surroundings and settle into our new world. And what a world it is!

Dan and Sol climb the McMillan Spires

Night 1 bivy

Day 2

"I got messed up here last year, " Sol says as he jams over a steep block on the towers seperating our first bivy with Inspiration Peak. Dan crampons down a snow patch and ties in twenty feet from my end. When the rope comes tight all three of us traverse with care through a more reasonable path than Sol had followed previously. The climbing in this section demands concentration, but deposits us under the laser cut splitters of Inspiration's East Ridge. Taking the lead, I lieback and face climb to a bench of loose talus. The pack is heavy, but my heart is light. What amazing climbing!

Awesome climbing on Inspiration Peak's East Ridge

Another varied crack leads to a perched belay and I snap photos of Dan and Sol as they hoot and hollar up steep 5.9 jams. Rambly climbing leads over Inspiration's two summits. Although we are climbing well, our late morning start has pushed us against a setting sun. A bit of discouragement follows us down the raps and into the col between Inspiration and Pyramid Peak. At the bivy we relax and remind each other that the first few days with packs full of food will be slow. Tomorrow we plan an early assault, aiming for a notch in the sky many mountains to our north.

Stay tuned for Day 3!

Back From The Pickets!

2011-09-11T07:55:00.000-07:00

Sol Wertkin and I getting ready on day 6. We had spent most of the previous days traversing the amazing ridge in the background.
Sol trying to get service on our last climb, Luna Peak. We had climbed the ridge in the background as well as a peak in between these two points. We spent the next day and a half leaving the high country and walking out Access Creek to Big Beaver Trail, to Ross Lake, and finally to Highway 20.

Sol Wertkin, Dan Hilden, and myself have just returned home after an incredible journey through the North Cascades. On September 2nd we set off to tackle an especially ambitious goal: the full Picket's Range Traverse. Although Sol and Dan had been in the area before, none of us had a real idea of what to expect. We gave the effort our all, but came up short in the end due to a variety of factors. Still, we climbed 15 beautiful peaks in 7.5 days and had the adventure of a lifetime.

Over the next few days I will put together a detailed post regarding our trip. Between the three of us, we have great photos and video that we hope will share our story in an inspiring manner. Stay tuned!

Metaline High

2011-08-31T07:22:00.001-07:00

Metaline Falls

Last weekend, Jessica Campbell and I trucked up to the north east corner of Washington to check out an area I used to frequent, Metaline Falls. Jess and I have a special place in our hearts for out of the loop crags and obscure backwater cliffs. Metaline Falls is defined by birds swooping across planes of rock, fresh blue limestone, hard climbing, and a small mining town that captures the imagination.

Movies show on Saturday, Sunday, and Monday. Take rest days on the weekends!

Besides exploring Metaline's incredible routes in the Arena and at Sector Europa, Jess and I swam in the Pend Orielle River, hiked to Sweetwater Falls, and ran around "downtown" Metaline Falls, poking our noses into old abandoned buildings and learning about the history of the people who had mined for zinc under the surrounding tree covered hills.

Route names at the base of each route lead your way...very helpful actually!

The mine closed in 1977, leaving the local community locked in a time warp. Everything around, from the trucks in people's front yards, to the vintage picnic areas in the local parks, sat as a testament to this era. Luckily, we fit right in, as our climbing abilities on the super steep limestone seemed to be stuck in the 70's also. Jess and I rarely (once or twice a year) clip bolts so we made our way up some stellar 5.12's and eyed future 5.13 inspirations. Someday, when I tire of slogging through the mountains (never!!) I want to be a real sport climber, riding waves of tufas out concave oceans of rock.

Without a doubt, the highlight of our weekend was lowering (and hauling out!) Jessica's Akida, River (big dog!) into Sector Europa. The look on River's face as he swung up the wall on the way out was priceless. Cool and unconcerned, River has a bold head and a bright future on the rock!

Twice The Fun

2011-08-30T07:02:00.000-07:00

Dos!

Last week, Max Hasson and I climbed Liberty Bell twice in one day via Liberty Crack and Thin Red Line . The original intent was to add The Independence Route to the list, but after a few pitches of Liberty Crack, I realized we would have to "practice" the link up (which I have NO motivation to do...sorry!) to send all three in a reasonable day. No one shows up and knocks down The Nose record without some serious rehersal. The same goes for the East Face Triple. After leading Liberty Crack in 4.5 hours I realized I wasn't close to the speed I needed to be at. I had hoped to knock off the route in only 2-2.5 hours, but the heat, bugs, and general gumbiness (I haven't speed climbed in many years!) realigned our vision. Still, two routes on Liberty Bell's East Face gave plenty of fun climbing and a good day of training.

Check out http://www.maxhasson.com for a full report and some really cool shots!

50 Years of Inspiration

2011-08-15T07:26:00.000-07:00

Mountain Equipment, one of my supporters, has just released a very special documentary showcasing the climbs, climbers, and ideals they have supported over the last 50 years.

Mountain Equipment makes some of the most high performance and durable outerwear that money can buy. I wouldn't face the world's high places without the best gear available. I believe Moutnain Equipment provides that.

Check out the video at http://vimeo.com/27620817

Behind The Scenes

2011-08-15T06:31:00.000-07:00

Ryan getting psyched for Tooth and Claw (III+ 5.12)

Reading blogs, watching climbing videos, and scanning climbing rags give the impression that everyday is a send fest for those pretty people in the pictures. The reality is that no one is above climbing's challenges. Some days you don't slip and some days you do. This is climbing. This is life.

Pitch one on Tooth and Claw (5.11a)

The last week saw me tromping through the cascades, bouncing from one "failure" to the next. First, Ryan Paulsness and I traveled to Washington Pass intent on making an onsight ascent of the 80's slab testpiece, Tooth and Claw. I slipped off this beautiful 6 pitch route and the "first try" ideal floated off into the summer sky. Still, Tooth and Claw is an amazing route and I plan to be back in a couple of weeks time. Let no business remain unfinished!

Finishing pitch 3 on Tooth and Claw (5.11c)

The immaculate pitch 4 (5.10) on Tooth and Claw

A few days later I was tromping towards Mt. Stuart with Sol Wertkin, intent on sending our latest proj. A late start, a new approach, and bullet proof snow ("we don't need crampons", I said...idiot!) delayed our start. By the time we had climbed to the base of our splitter, end of day colors filled the sky. Darkness was approching and we bailed back to Leavenworth instead of enjoying an open bivy with minimal gear. 16 miles of hiking and 6 pitches of climbing is a long way to go for a good view of your inspiration. Again, we'll be back soon.

Sol on "The Monkey Traverse" on GITM en route to our project

As always, it's important to relish each special day in the mountains regardless of goals reached. Just to have the health to be able to gain the high realm of the alpine is something to be thankful for. That said, each failure ratchets up passion for the next attempt. I'll be back to both routes soon enough. Dot your I's and cross your T's. Let no project go unfinished.

Sol on Stuart

Alaska Shots

2011-08-07T09:22:00.001-07:00

Alaska!
The other day, Dan Hilden, my partner in crime for all things cold and big, returned to Leavenworth from the Great White North. I left Alaska in early May, but he stayed a month longer, fishing and hiking. We rapped about future ambitions and traded photos from a our maiden voyage in the AK Range. Needless to say, we are both obsessed with returning to that wild universe of snow and ice.

Not a day goes by that my mind doesn't wander the incredible peaks of Denali National Park. The buzz of existing in such a powerful landscape is inspiring beyond words. Can't wait until next season! Until then, enjoy a few more photos from our 2011 expedition.

The journey begins...fly TAT!

Tundra gives way to...

The Alaska Range!

Mt. Johnson

A misty ski tour

Basecamp

Room with a view

Low on the SW Ridge of 11,300

Superb climbing on 11,300

Brew stop

A colder brew stop below the summit of 11,300

Heading home: descending 11,300

GITM Direct

2011-08-05T07:00:00.000-07:00

Mark enjoys the beautiful approach
Our laughter swirled into a cloudy breeze. "Guerrilas in the Mist, part two," I joked, sliding around Ingalls Lake on late seaon snow. Although none of us had actually checked the weather forecast (it's the Stuart Range!), we were suprised by the chilly temps and whipping fog.

Flawless stone on Pitch 1

My "part two" joke focused on a climb I had completed a few years earlier with Blake Herrington and Sol Wertkin. Our original ascent of GITM still remains one of my most memorable Stuart Range climbs. The misty weather that day erased the horizontal world, leaving us in the clouds on a spacey classic. We fought to the summit that day in a rimey storm that left us stranded for the night high on the mountain, alone with the wind, the moon, and the intense cold. To have such unique weather again on the same wall was funny and cool.
Sol finishes "the monkey traverse"
Mark Westman, Sol, and myself salivated at the base of the wall, gawking at starts to potential new routes. We almost chose a zig zagging green camelot crack in perfect rock, but caught ourselves before the rack came out. "We came to check out the headwall above 'Guerrilas'," I said. "Let's get 'er done".

Mark and I enjoy one of the range's best pitches (p4, 5.10a)

I joyfully reclimbed the intial three pitches of the original line to start us off. The first pitch splitter slices flawless stone, the second crosses a startling stretch of hangning corners, and the third makes a wild break through an improbable overhang. I handed the rack to Sol at the belay and he stretched the ropes up an unreal stretch of stemming on the purest of granite. Then it got exciting.

Sol broke left where we had once gone right. He proudly freed a new 5.10 dihedral while cleaning the crack for placements and jams. Even though the pitch had some lichen and moss, the stone hidden underneath was of the highest quality. Mark and I cleaned it more as we followed. Sol fired a rad stemming and face pitch that cut Mark loose across a slanting finger crack and into a varied 5.10 crack system that we followed to the top of the West Face Wall of Mt. Stuart.

A not so early start and a mean wind convinced us of what none would say. We kicked the sand around our feet after arriving at the West Ridge of Stuart, staring up, then down. Up then down. When one tops out the West Face Wall they must descend a trail, find the West Ridge (5.4) and climb almost its entire length to the summit. We chose to descend back to Ingalls Lake and IPA's at Sol's rig rather than tagging the top. We were happy with our climb of the wall, but undeniably know that the summit is the real finish to any climb.

Mark high on the route
In the future I see many incredible lines on this wall. I imagine most people will walk down the West Ridge to their car after an acsent as the West Face Wall is almost a seperate tower on the mountain. Taller than CBR and the steep swath of DOE, mantling the top of this amazing wall is a satisfying endeavour.

Establishing first ascents is my favorite aspect of the vertical game. The suprise of connecting features and the go for it nature of ground up climbing provides a good buzz. A true blessing is when you establish a classic for the ages. GITM Direct is surely one of those lines.

Pitch Breakdown:

Pitch 1: 5.11a splitter, one of the best on the route

Pitch 2: 5.9 hanging corners

Pitch 3: 5.10b "the monkey traverse"

Pitch 4: 5.10a stemming (one of the best pitches in the range!!!)

Pitch 5: 5.10b jamming up a beautiful dihedral

Pitch 6: 5.10d stemming leads to 5.9 face climbing

Pitch 7: 5.10b traversing finger crack

Pitch 8: 5.10b varied cracks

Pitch 9: 5.7 cracks lead to the top
*note: this route is a grade V if completed to the summit...go get it!

Lines

2011-08-04T18:58:00.001-07:00

While I'm working on the GITM blog I thought would post a "Chasin' Tail" route overlay. Check it out.

Photo by Max Hasson

GITM Direct

2011-08-03T08:58:00.000-07:00

Myself starting the first stellar pitch of GITM Direct (5.11a)

Mark Westman, Sol Wertkin, and I just finished up a direct finish to an already incredibly classic route I established a few years ago with Sol and Blake Herrington. Our finish added 4.5 classic pitches that strike right through the heart of Mt. Stuart's West Face Wall. I plan on getting a topo up on the blog and a good story about the ascent in the next few days, but for now I thought I would post a few pics for psyche. GITM Direct is one of the best routes I've ever had the pleasure of climbing. Go get it!!!

Sol stemming bottomless corners on pitch two (5.9)

Myself on pitch 3, "The Monkey Traverse", wild 5.10

Sol, beginning the direct finish with incredible 5.10 climbing

Chasin' Tail: A hairy first ascent on D-tail

2011-07-26T16:35:00.000-07:00

It's time to bail. Adam's got the other rope in the pack. You know you can build safe enough anchors to get down. It's time to bail, it's time to bail, it's time to bail...

As I manage a steep wall of granite puzzle pieces my conciousness battles itself. The voices in my head send conflicting messages.

This is it. You'll never be up here again. Be patient, thread the line through the choss. The rock looks better above. Take it step by step, move by move. Stay in the moment, be in the moment, stay in the moment, be in the moment...

Adam Lawson and I are navigating a new swath of rock on Dragontail's NE face. Well right from Dragons of Eden and Dragonfly, I lead through desperate pitches of choss. I can only connect the passages by tension traversing between the best kitty litter. The runouts are long and the climbing insecure. Adam wants nothing to do with this crap. He's smart. And strong. He's carrying our one pack, laden with an extra rope, food, and a couple of jackets. This sacrifice gives me the ability to sink into my crazy world, find a consistent headspace, and pick my way through the dark, vertical maze.

"That was horrifying". Adam repeats this mantra as he reaches each belay. I try not to meditate on those words despite the fact that my world is dark with lichen, shitty pro, and razor sharp, rope mangling stone.

You're only up here once Jens. Look ahead. Find the path. You can do it.

My physical and mental strength are just enough to push us up into a headwall of solid stone. Finally, the rock shapes up into classic Stuart Range granite. Textured with diorite knobs and lined with continuous crack systems, the last three pitches pull us towards the upper NE Ridge. Arriving at easier ground I breathe a sigh of great relief. I don't even bother to look over the edge at the wall we've just ascended. My head is blown from managing serious risk for so long and I don't even care to look down into the maze of fear below. After a sandwich and a bit of water we arc across the serrated ledges of the NE Ridge. For 1700 feet we traverse over mostly solid rock, finally arriving at the NE summit, a high point where I always end routes that scale this side of Dragontail's mile wide face. The sun is still fairly high in the party cloudy sky. I am excited that we've established such a big, complex new route in a very reasonable amount of time. Adam and I worked well together, each playing our role with pointed assertion.

The setting sun descends with us out of the alpine and back into the forest. Darkness joins us for the final mile to the car. Techno beats give me strength and we barely suffer. I feel a happiness in overcoming my fear. It did not own me today.

Chasin' Tail
IV 5.10 AI
FA Jens Holsten and Adam Lawson, 7/24/2011

Stuart Days

2011-07-26T16:17:00.001-07:00

The past few training days in the Stuart Range have focused around enjoying moderate routes new to my partner and I. With a high summer snow pack and reasonably cool temps in the Cascades, Mt. Stuart has remained a place for boots, an ice ax, and a warm jacket.

A few hours after the show...

Right before my trip to California, Joel Kauffman and I raced up the the Stuart Glacier Coulior the day after I gave a slide show at LMS. Joel and I can't seem to not go climbing after slide shows. A few weeks earlier, a Jim Donini presentation sent us into a psyched craze that spun us up Argonaut Peak. The SGC was in amazing condition and we both savored the rime covered mixed climbing on the West Ridge.

Beautiful climbing on the upper West Ridge

The most recent Stuart mission was a nice jaunt up the Razorback Ridge. Geoff Cecil and I thought this seldom done route was fun and worthy. It's no North Ridge, but the rock is beautiful (even under the lichen!) and the snow patches on route made for fun mixed flair. Without a doubt, the highlight of the day was an exhilarating leap over the bergshrund at the bottom of the Sherpa Glacier Coulior. It took me a minute to psyche up, but the stunt turned out to be fun huck.

Cloud Racing On Dark Star

2011-07-10T21:08:00.000-07:00

Mike's worried look captured my own thoughts exactly. Neither of us wanted to admit to the other that our psyche for a free attempt on Half Dome over the crazy July fourth weekend was fading in the light of sweaty tourists, LA like traffic, and over hyped tools in green.

I had asked Mike Collins to join me on another free attempt of the face Kyle and I had tried a few weeks previously. Hardened from pitch after pitch of California granite, I felt I could send the route this time around. I had worked hard to beat the weakness out of myself in the weeks between and I wanted to finish what I'd started. My heart warred between accomplishing the free climbing goal of my trip and the desire to feel the solitude of nature that is a defining factor for me in this vertical game. I was in no mood to deal with the Big Ditch and its soul sucking vibe. Half Dome could wait. I just wanted to have fun, to breathe clean crisp air, approach under the stars, and climb into the sunrise.

Dark Star is the buttress cascading down from the summit of Temple Crag. These beautiful shots were taken by my friend Leor Pantilat two days before our ascent.

"I'm over it man," I said, a wave of guilty pleasure washing over me. The feeling of guilt was due to leaving a project undone. The pleasure came from knowing that we were going to do something fun and beautiful, although at the time I didn't know what it would be.

Mike racing the clouds and winning!

Once we shifted our focus it was not hard to pick a line. The Sierra was wracked in a pattern of daily thunderstorms so we needed an objective that was manageable in a short morning. Of course, we wanted to go as big as possible even considering the weather. When Mike suggested Dark Star, one of the Sierra's longest technical routes (but technically easy at 5.10 b/c) I agreed wholeheartedly.

We packed a few cams and nuts for the pitches we would belay, and psyched up for a long simul solo of the rest. Stars poked at the blackness as we hit the trail. Soon we were at the base of Temple Crag, the massive chunk of granite that Dark Star cuts in half. I was blown away by the beauty of the line. Half Dome was beyond rad, but I knew we had chosen our route wisely. No one was around except a million mosquitos and a marmot or two. A blood red sunrise lit black clouds for only a minute before fading into the dull gray of an overcast morning.

The never ending scramble of joy!

The following hours blended into a kaleidoscope of twisting ridges, craggy gendarmes, and juggy climbing on chunky, quartz laced granite. Before long we sat on top, The Palisades cradling our airy position. I feasted my eyes on an array of mountains I had never seen before as cloud shadows raced across the desert miles below. Dark Star was no Half Dome in terms of difficulty, but it was bright enough to satisfy my desires.

No cigar on H-Dome (I'll be back very soon), but I am having fun and that's what counts!

Our descent was quick, but hot. The clouds constructed themselves with predictable order and by the time we were back at Mike's Bishop was falling into an afternoon of warm rain, while the mountains blacked out, drunk on thunderheads. Once again, I sat in Mike's garden with a cold brew and tired legs. Once again I let soothing nature wash over me. Once again, I drained the bottle.

Heaven's At 9,000 Feet

2011-07-10T10:44:00.000-07:00

The past few weeks I have spent some quality time climbing and living near Tioga Pass at the "9,000 foot bivy", a spot I have used for years to avoid the mayhem of camping in Yosemite National Park. Even on days I didn't have a partner I could access awesome trad, sport, and alpine rambling from this beautiful spot.

Liana and Lucho enjoying a beautiful morning at the 9,000 bivy

Just up the road from the bivy is the the Private Property Cliff, a unique swath of gold granite littered with holds of all types. Many of my friends in the area spend shady afternoons sending rope stretching pitches on this inspiring wall. Days usually start with a romp in T-Meadows and end at the PP Cliff fighting for the chains on the latest project. I hit that groove for a few days between less relaxed (which means more relaxed!) objectives in the high Sierra. I also scrambled up the NE ridge of North Peak on a rest/sick (the flu in Cali...how does that work?) day from this point.

Mike Collins savoring the flavor of climbing at the PP cliff (Dan M. photo)

James Lucas weathers an altitude related motivation problem...life at 9 grand ain't easy!

Whenever I arrive for a stint at the 9,000 bivy I always am happy to run into the same great people. Dan McDevitt, a fixture around Yosemite for many years, is assured to be there, his genuine love of climbing and the Sierra always as refreshing as the crashing creek that flows through the campsite. Lucho Rivera might be on his tailgate, waiting for the shade to fall over the afternoon project or resting for another bout on a rad route on the Hulk. New faces always emerge, each one as friendly as the next. Old friends pull in and out as they journey in this land of granite. Big thanks to all the kind folks that hang with me during my stints there!

Morning warm up in the Meadows. OZ is dreamy!!

Evening session at PP. Myself on Silver Bullet, another amazing Dan McDevitt route!

Alpine Ice in the Range of Light

2011-07-08T10:23:00.000-07:00

"Those your ice axes?" The ranger gave me a boggled look through the dusty air of Camp 4. Yosemite's heat dripped from my sweaty forehead as I claimed my 6 by 6 foot patch of beaten earth. "Yep," I replied. "I'm hoping to explore the many different sides of Sierra over the next few weeks." The lady in green furrowed her brow and moved on to bother someone else. Just as I was reflecting on the dire Yosemite scene, a mangy squirrel ran off with one of my Powerbars. I just got here and I was already dreaming of granite peaks shrouded in the peace of nature. Kyle and I had found beauty high on Half Dome, but the ugliness of the Ditch stabbed at me the minute he left me alone in the mayhem of Yosemite Village.

Getting the kit ready at Mike's house

The next few days I worked my way towards Mt. Mendal, a peak accessed from Bishop, CA. I met Mike Collins at the Tioga cliff along the way and he graciously voulenteered his old Toyota Camery to take me up the twisting road to the Lamark Lakes trailhead. Big thanks Mike!

Ready to have some fun in a new mountain range!

Mt. Mendal is one of California's most classy north faces, two prominent ice lines snaking through steep shattered granite. I had brought my tools south intent on soloing the shadowed wall.

Day one I approached the peak through snow laden cols pinched by lunar landscapes of orange boulders. The pristine nature of the high Sierra was inspiring and I spent the evening watching the sinking sun play a light show on my route.

Mt. Mendal

A crisp, windy weather system lingered to my west the next morning as I cramponed towards Mendal. The wind pushed me around on the small glacier below the face. I relished the interesting weather and the day's alpine feel.

Time to climb!

Crossing the schrund I punched my way up the initial neve apron, aiming for the right coulior, California's classic path of alpine ice. For the next 800 feet I made my way through a variety of conditions. Neve gave way to unconsolidated snow over rock. Thankfully, water ice clogged the mixed finish. The climbing in this upper section was beyond enjoyable. Stemming up blocky rock with my tools securly in a grey runnel of ice was heavenly. A funky cornice capping the gash brought me back to reality as I stemmed carefully between snow and stone.

Cruising in the lower coulior

I drew a cold breath, scratched my frontpoints into asmall rock edge and mantled into a wind swept notch. Verglassed rock climbing on the south side brought me to the rime choked high point as thunderheads raced over my head. I scrambled down loose terrain toward the big snowfield that separated me from my tent. The way was not as straight forward as I'd hoped and the steep pebble strewn ledge systems forced me into my rock shoes. An old pin lashed to a faded white sling sat at the brink of the final step. I lowered myself off the ledge, found my feet and then the edge of the snow.

Cumbre!

A festival of glissading shot me down towards Bishop only a few hours ahead of the snowy system's front teeth. Sipping beer in Mike's garden I savored my first high Sierra climb as the Range of Light faded into the darkness of storm. The air was heavy with moisture and wind cool like blue glaciers. I let the soothing nature wash over me and then I drained the bottle.

The Arena

2011-07-07T19:49:00.000-07:00

Pack straps cut into my shoulders as I pull up spongy fixed lines towards Half Dome's NW face. "I'm off the rope!" I yell, smearing up a slab and into a tangle of manzanita. Streaks of water paint the 2,000 foot face above us and smear their way through rocks and trees to the Valley below. "This is so rad!," Kyle exclaims as he thrashes towards me. "This is what it's all about brother," I counter as we both absorb the scale of wall above. It's Kyle's first time in one of the greatest rock arenas on earth, Yosemite Valley.

Although Kyle O'meara had never climbed more than 5 pitches off the deck, I never hesitated to ask him to join me for a free attempt of H-Dome. His drive and athleticism stood up to the task. Fortunetely, the weird finger injuries that slowed us during the months leading to this trip were healed enough to attempt the route. Unfortunetely,the recent break from rock scaling had taken a toll on prowess. We both knew it was a bit silly to expect to arrive in Yosemite and fire a free ascent our first day in the Valley. That noted, we had to try.

Kyle taking in the view

The next morning I kicked steps up a grimy snow cone and started jamming the first pitch. I was immediatly flooded with the purity of perfect granite. Hooping and hollering up shady stone, we cut over into the first free variation. I led off into a stout pitch of wide 5.11. Out of shape and lacking flow, I stalled for a minute as my feet oozed off the slick dimples I stemmed between.

You should see this wall mom! Nothing like a chat with folks under H-Dome...

Attitude is everything and just to be attached to this big, beautiful wall was special enough. I let the free ascent go and catapulted up ledgy scrambling, into shadowed chimneys, and onto a headwall of glittereing corners. The sun burned our skin and sucked the moisture from our mouths. Wind blown water droplets from the melting summit snow patch provided the only relief from our firey circumstance. Later, we scrambled to an empty summit, the sun just leaving the sky. Kyle beamed with joy through the dehydration. It was hard to believe he had never climbed in Yosemite.

So good!

Even though we didn't achieve our goal of free climbing the route, I was proud of our effort. We had believed it was possible, entered the arena, and gave it everything we had. We'll be back soon, in shape and familiar with the terrain. The rope will never be weighted and we will follow our fingers to the top of the mountain.

Even better!

Be There Or Be Square!

2011-06-03T18:56:00.000-07:00

I am going to be showing some cool pics (all the good photos are my partners doing...thanks Max Hasson, Dan Hilden, and Mike Schaefer!!!) from the past few months at the best mountain shop east of the crest: Leavenworth Mountain Sports. Come by after a day in the Icicle and take a look if your interested. The show will cover expedition fun and beautiful, local climbing also. Hope to see you there!

The Good Life

2011-06-02T06:08:00.000-07:00

Arriving home to Leavenworth after any expedition is a breath of fresh air. Leaving the glacier and entering a lush environment of pines and wildflowers above a twisting river always perks the senses to delightful heights. My eyes suck up the color in the world, my nose inhales the freshness of spring, my hands scrape into granite cracks, and my legs carry me through familiar mountains.

Sol getting to business on Snow Creek Wall's infamous "Pressure Chamber"

Joel Kauffman and I en route to Argonaut

Great conditions in the Cascades makes Jens happy!
Since returning from Alaska I have been switching gears in preparation for an upcoming trip to Yosemite. I haven't been on the rock much in the last three months and I need to be ready to hold my own with my Cali rock crushing homies! My focus has been on slick slabs, wide cracks, and powerful boulder problems. "Afterwork specials" (get off work and go as big as possible, often fitting a whole days worth of climbing into an afternoon) are in effect and the adventures have taken me throughout the Icicle, up to Snow Creek wall a couple of times, and out to the steep radness that is Index. Of course, I couldn't resist a day in the alpine, so Joel Kauffman and I swept through the Stuart Range, climbing a beautiful variation to Argonaut's NE Coulior. Our 25 mile loop and climb kept my slogging inspirations sated and I'm headed out to the rock again today. Life is good!

Just another day in my backyard

Jess Campbell and River psyche up for a free recon of the Upper Town Wall's Green Dragon

Blown Away In The Great White North

2011-05-23T07:30:00.000-07:00

Paul Roderick banked the plane through giant walls of ice and rock while my heart skipped beats and my finger pulled the trigger on the camera again and again. Our first flight into the Alaska Range was like a bomb in my brain. The scale, the shapes, the lines, and the summits sucked my reality out and fostered my rebirth into a life of never ending twilight, hard ice, and grainy granite. I never expected to be this blown away.

The Stunning Flight in...big thanks to Talkeetna Air Taxi!
The world's greatest climbing arenas have always refigured my vision and inspiration as a athlete. When I saw El Cap from a foggy bus window for the first time, I felt the smooth granite permeating my being. I knew I would climb those 3,000 sheer feet, although at that time I had no clue how. I knew that was where I wanted to be. I knew that was what I wanted to do. The Alaska Range struck me with a similar energy. Just setting up basecamp I realized the impact this trip would have on my life.

Setting up basecamp on day 1
The last few years has seen me stepping away from the hard core rock jock I was and embracing the all around climber I strive to be. For me, this means building skills on icy, snowy, and high terrain. After spending the last few years banging my head against the Cascades wintry, iron playground, I knew it was time to take the next step. Alaska was beckoning and Dan Hilden and I heeded the siren call.

Dan skinning back to basecamp after a failed mission on Mt. Dan Beard

When I learned to climb at the Redmond Vertical World (love you guys!), my mentor Taylor Roy told me to never skip steps, but to build a solid base of climbing to gradually improve on. I have never forgotten that lesson and count this method as the reason I feel so natural with the rock. Every area I have ever been to I have tested myself against the classic routes I should be able to do before trying anything difficult or new. Now, I am on a similar journey, but in a land of ice and snow.

As a result, Dan and I have become partners in suffering, repeating most of our local range's alpine ice routes and adding a few of our own. Only after a few years of this method have we considered the next step. After arriving in Talkeetna, we quickly dubbed ourselves "Team Non-Rad"as every other party we chatted with was headed into the range to try huge, difficult routes. We kept our core focus alive and still chose to fly into the Mountain House basecamp, a flat area above the Ruth Glacier that allowed for easy access to many classic Alaskan objectives.

My trip was a short and sweet eight days, so we used every bit of good weather to get out and try routes. Most we failed on due to avalanche concerns, often times finding ourselves on the wrong aspect at the wrong time. Even though Alaska is a cold place, we quickly realized the folly of climbing in the hot sun.

Psyched and ready the afternoon before climbing 11, 300
After six days of failures and learning experiances, Dan and I set off for Peak 11, 300, a beautiful pyramid of ice and granite seven miles up glacier from our basecamp. Skinning towards the objective I could tell the conditions were perfect. Even in the intense sun I did not sweat and the air had a crisp, pleasant edge. By the next morning we were weaving through house eating crevasses towards the Southwest Ridge, a line that inspired the both of us with it's solid rock, waving ridges, and ice filled gullys. We traveled light, taking no bivy gear but a shovel and a jacket to fight off a brisk night.

Incredible climbing on 11, 300's SW Ridge
The climbing unfolded like a dream. Firm snow, amazing mixed terrain and bullet hard ice pulled us upward. We took a few rests to brew up, but mostly kept moving. High on the mountain, conditions became more difficult with fresh snow. Although this slowed our pace, the climbing remained well protected and fun. As day faded to never ending Alaskan twilight, we stepped on the top of 11, 300, donned our parkas, dropped off the summit 100 feet to dig a snow cave. Outside, the still, cold air hovered among thousands of pointy summits. We wiggled our toes and joked the night away. When it was light enough to see without the headlamps we cramponed out of the cave and began our descent.

More amazing climbing!
One thing I quickly realized about Alaska was that the descents are almost as big as the routes! It ain't over until it's over on any mountain, but in Alaska, this mantra is extremely pronounced. We traveresed a sustained, icy arete, aiming for a clump of rocks where we hoped to find rappel anchors. At one point we tried to break out the stove for a brew, realized it was no longer working, and kept heading down towards our camp with parched throats and dehydrated brains. For a moment I had to pull my act together and tell myself I could do it. The lack of water and intense sun was taking it's toll.

Dan soaks up the view low on the route
One foot in front of the other saw us to our basecamp, freeze dried chilly mac, and cold beer generously offered by a party who had flown into 11, 300's base that very morning. Our rest only lasted a couple of hours and then we were off on our skis to more food and our cozy basecamp. After seven miles of zoned out skinning we were sipping whiskey and eating bacon. A few hours later I was back in Talkeetna wondering if it ever happened at all.

Our climb of 11, 300 taught me so much about real alpine routes. The climbing itself is not the hard part in a place like Alaska. Nutrition, hydration, gear, timing, and conditions make or break your deal with the mountain. A clear head and a focus on problem solving are mandatory. Next year, when Dan and I fly into those awe inspiring mountains again, we will have a whole new bag of tricks to pull from. Even though we only succeded on one of our intended routes, I came away a new climber with a new vision to guide my training. I can't wait to hear the propeller of a Twin Otter buzz through the air and to feel the glacier under my boots again. It's less than a year until next season! Better keep training...

One more big thanks to TAT, especially for providing a free place to stay in Talkeetna!

Before The North

2011-05-23T07:25:00.000-07:00

Alright. I'll say it. This blog has become a barren, souless place. I apologize for that and promise more updates in the coming months. With an injury behind me, the adventures are already piling up again. I just returned from my first trip to the Alaska range, so needless to say I've got a good story and a few fuzzy photos to upload onto the blogosphere in the coming days. This post is in regards to a couple of "training runs" I took before my trip. I've attached a few words to describe each day.

Storm Swept on The Cotter-Bebie
This isn't just another D-tail summit. Dragging the rope over the unrecognizable snow hump I scream uselessly through the wind at Dan. "Your on belay!" "YOUR ON BELAY!" Finally the rope creeps. I know he didn't hear me, but I bet he's cold. You gotta start moving sometime. It's all I can do to hold my ground at the summit belay. Gusts push negative temperatures through the gaps in my clothing and prickly ice indents itself in my frozen face.

But I've got it good. Dan's head lamp isn't working and his black crawl to the top is riddled with tricky mixed moves. Finally, a shadowy hump approaches at the end of the rope. The storm blows harder. Light or no light, visiblity is cut to nothing. Luckily, we know the mountain by feel. Two lefts and a half mile of blind heel punching returns us to the base of the face. Dehydrated and tired we slip on snowshoes and slog across the dormant lake.

"Good Alaska training," I spit out through a frozen beard. "We got what we came for!", says Dan.

Dan enjoying incredible conditions before the storm on Dragontail's Cotter-Bebie

Bailure On Bridge Creek Wall
Crack! "Oh, no!", I yell, cramming myself further into the dirty gash I'm already wedged in. Ice particles dance on my hardshell as I wait for the big bomb to crater. "I knew it was too early for this climb," I think, hoping the ice patch that just slid from the summit slabs hasn't obliterated Sol.

My, "Are you OK!?" is greeted with a nervous smile and crazy eyes. Our adventure just got a little too adventerous. I sling a block and thread the rope to rappel. "Let's get the hell out of here!".

Sol before the ice fall, pysched to attempt Bridge Creek Wall's East Face.

Comet Spire Attempt and Fun in the SCV

2011-03-24T17:35:00.000-07:00

Since my climb of Colchuck's NE Face I have been resting an injury and focusing on organizing an up coming trip to the Alaska Range. That said, I haven't been able to resist a little bit of upward movement.

Nearly a month ago, Dan and I tried a fantastic route on Comet Spire, an orange sentinel north of Prusik Peak. The route, which I had scoped a week earlier with Cole Allen, reminded me of Patagonia, ice running up a steep tower to an airy perch. We approached on larch studded snow slopes and laughed our way up a 400 foot stretch of AI3, shooting for a runnel that broke the final buttress. The sun warmed my body but the cold in the breeze stung my face. The day was perfect. Then, a snowfield high above us slid, swiping powerfully through where we had climbed only moments before.

Comet Spire from Snow Lakes

Our perfect day became quite intimidating and we safely bailed down a protected rock buttress with no issues. Although we didn't summit, winter climbing on the opposite side of the range for a change was inspiring and eye opening. I can't wait to go back.

Beautiful climbing on the East Face of Comet Spire

Since then I have powered down into an even chiller mode, mostly working and resting, but...

The past few years I have found myself wandering the Snow Creek Valley, mostly alone, chasing elusive pieces of blue I see through the winter snow. Each glimpse of ice leads me to the next. Those quiet wanderings help me gather my thoughts and keep me fit for real objectives. Ice climbing in Washington does not show itself easily. Endless searching yields a seemingly limited outcome, but then you spot a runnel up a tower or a rock face with just enough ice and protection to scratch up. Finally, the lines are starting to add up and more beckon around the corner. The past few weeks we found a fun 900 foot M5 up a rock buttress, climbed a tough mixed route and stumbled on the crag of our future winter...now it's time to rock climb (and go to Alaska in May!).

The Millennium Tower

Snice runnel on M-Tower

Scratchin'

Harder Scratchin'

Dan's Drip

2011-03-08T17:57:00.001-08:00

Dan's Drip

This past weekend, local mountain enthusiast Dan Zimmerman was killed in an avalanche on the rolling flanks of Mt. Cashmere. Dan and I were only long time acquaintances, but we did share a common passion for the peaks and valleys of the Stuart Range. While Dan shredded down mountains, I clawed up them. We ran into each other often in the Icicle, always translating shared condition reports into our respective dialects of climber and skier. Dan wanted white smoke and I wanted blue ice. We both wanted days high in the alpine with our friends.

My canyon wanderings the past few days have been quiet and reflective. Dan's spirit has moved on, softly blowing through the pines, down the rushing river, and up into the rimed peaks. The Icicle won't be the same without him.

A finger injury has kept me resting the past few weeks. Although I can't crank on the rock right now, I can swing a tool, so I have been prowling the cold corners of the Icicle for thin ice and mixed routes. Yesterday, I followed a thin runnel up a rock face, into a corner and over a scratchy roof, establishing a fun 100 foot M5 R pitch. Located above the Snow Creek trail, this line defines the "here today, gone tomorrow" nature of ephemeral ice lines. Five days ago it wasn't there and now it's on the way out.

It's not an incredible effort or a climb of any importance, but to me it will always be known as Dan's Drip. Life, like ice, is so fragile and temporary. When a climb melts out we don't forget the line. When someone moves from this life to the next we remember them forever. RIP Dan.

Back To The Lake

2011-01-31T16:55:00.000-08:00

NE Buttress time...

Since I returned home from Patagonia, life has resumed as usual. Of course "usual"means climbing all the time, watching the weather constantly. and jumping at the windows of opportunity. Last week high pressure pushed away the clouds and inspired Dan Hilden and I to have a look at a few lines we had in mind on Colchuck Peak.

Getting started on the NEB

Our first priortiy was the NE Buttress of Colchuck Peak, a climb that has been on mind for a few years now. A firm approach under stars brought us to the base of the route with the first light. Our chosen start is a cold place with no sun. The snow was marginal and the ice thin, but we made progress, aiming for the ramp that cuts the face. Although we were making headway it was not fast enough to race the coming of the icy night. Unprepared for this, we turned tail and bailed quickly and safely. Although I was dissapointed in my tactical decision regarding no bivy gear, it had been a fun experiance on a cool winter project.

Good ice on the starting pitches of Colchuck Peak's NE Face

That night we left the gear under plan two, a winter ascent of the NE face of Colchuck Peak. I have never heard of anyone doing the NE face in any season, although a summer route from the 70's winds up moderate and blocky climbing directly to the main summit. The last few winters I had noticed appealing ice smears leading to classic mixed climbing on the broad face. I don't know if our route followed the summer route exactly, but it was quality and fun.

Spindrift and ice on the NE Face

The first 400 feet were stellar alpine ice. It felt so good to be climbing easily and fluidly, especially after the tedious nature of the previous day's leads on the NE Buttress. After the ice we crossed a snow field up onto a rocky ridge. Traversing mixed climbing brought us to a steeper gash of frozen moss, powdery snow, and solid orange granite. Out of the gash a thin ice step led us onto a ridge falling from the summit.

Fun mixed climbing

A burning sunset lit the North Casades and Stuart dominated the shadowed valleys. I stared in awe as I belayed Dan up. "Where are we?" he asked, swinnging to the belay. I too had hoped the summit was closer, but reality was a wide crack and more traversing mixed climbing in a dark, cold world. Our headlamps bounced around the face as we connected features to the summit.

All the way down the glacier back to camp I felt the buzz of our adventure and savored it. The experiance had been perfect, a balanced outing of challenge and enjoyment. I would highly recommend the NE Face of Colchuck Peak as another awesome winter route to consider in the Stuart Range.

Type 1 Fun On Aguja Innominata's West Ridge

2011-01-06T05:56:00.000-08:00

The West Ridge of Aguja Innominata (700 meters, 5.11a)

"I haven't worn rock shoes for the last 90 pitches I've done in Patagonia."

"That's crazy," I reply to Mike, my eyes scanning the golden towers exploding above my head. We are both salivating at the massive rock walls above Nipinino, the main base camp in the Torre Valley. Temperatures remain warm even after the sun sinks into the ice cap. Our bellies swelling with pasta dinner we organize our gear for the next day. This time, boots, technical crampons, and ice tools aren't part of the equation. Our cold line on Mermoz seems a life away and psyche is high. It's time to go rock climbing.

The Fitzroy group shadowed on the Torre Glacier

The next morning we leave camp with the first pale light. Up and down, we roll over the dry glacier before climbing the entrance ramp that gains the west faces of Poincenot, Aguja Innominata, and Exupery. We have chosen to spend this warm, even hot day dashing up 700 meters of amazing granite on Aguja Innominata's West Ridge. In a go for broke fashion we stuff bars into our pockets, clip half liters of water to our harnesses, and start charging up the winding rib. We hope the snowy descnt gully will be soft as mush later in the afternoon as we haven't even brought our approach shoes along.

Pinch me, I must be dreaming. The "railroad track" cracks (5.10d)

A long simul block leads us to the "railroad track cracks", the defining feature of the ridge's lower buttress. With absolute joy I climb the beautiful splitters for an entire ropelength and bring Mike up behind me. The following pitches stretch the rope and the fun factor. We hoop and holler at friends on Exupery. Far from suffering, we peel off layers as the sun comes around and then simul endlessly through the middle portion of the ridge.

No suffering here...big fun on a big roof (5.11a)

By early afternoon, Mike is leading us to the summit. The 5.10 cracks in this section are without rival. Golden scalloped stone cradles the world's most perfect cracks. The Torres shed ice in booming symphony while the sky paints itself blue as the deep sea.

The summit is an airy, but windless perch. We enjoy ourselves and take pictures of future objectives. Scorching hot rappels land us in soft snow, and soaking wet rock shoes back to the base of the route. Checking the watch I am excited with our 12 hour round trip. Rarely do big routes go so smoothly, especially in Patagonia.

Jardines Japoneses: A New Route On Mermoz For Team Washington

2011-01-04T08:42:00.000-08:00

On December 26th, Mike Schaefer, Colin Haley, and myself completed a new route on the east face of Mermoz. A few weeks prior I underwent my Patagonia baptism on the same feature, the driving snow and bitter cold stopping Mike and I seven pitches up.

Colin and I enjoying the fine mixed moves of pitch 3 (m5)

With the next window of good weather and more reasonable temperatures, we sped up to our high point before tackling the crux rock exit to the upper Argentine Ridge. Full on alpine trickery had the three of us swinging between crack systems searching for a reasonable way up. After an exciting whipper and jedi route finding Colin finally planted us on a huge ledge where we ditched our tools and reminded each other to mentally block out the wind. Sure, it was blowing hard, but it couldn't stop us from going to the top. We were fired up.

Does it get any better?? Pitch 6 (AI3)

I slipped into my rock shoes and raced as fast as possible up the summit tower. Six pitches of pleasant jamming later and an easy ridge traverse planted us on the summit block, the shrieking wind helpless against our enthusiasm. My first Patagonian summit felt extra sweet since it was a moment I had waited for since 2008, the same year I came to Chalten only to watch one of Patagonia's best weather windows ever slip by as I battled pneumonia.

To the top!

I've realized in my time here that the descents off these towers defines the difficulty of the experience as much as the steep ice and technical rock that guards each summit. I have done routes of similar difficulty and size elsewhere, but walking off the top pales in comparison with travel back down the route, all the while battling relentless winds that throw your ropes straight out from the wall.

To the bottom!

Our descent was challenging, but we finally made it down to the glacier. Unfortunately, our two half ropes suffered greatly, one core shot and part of the other buried under a ton of snow and ice after a piece of the bergshrund collapsed under Colin's feet. "It ain't over until it's over," was a statement that echoed in my head during the isothermic snow slog from hell back to our base camp.

"Jardines Japoneses" is fondly named after one of the best rock pitches in the world (in our very biased opinions!) found at the Lower Town Walls at Index. Washington represent!

Welcome To Patagonia

2010-12-20T09:39:00.000-08:00

On a calm, clear day its hard to imagine the intensity of climbing in Patagonia. The rock is splitter, the ice bullet proof and the protection plentiful. When it all goes right its absolutely phenomenal climbing. What Mikey and I have experienced the last few days is more like excruciating battle. Just arriving at our base camp at Paso Superior was difficult. Between scary wind gusts we dashed across exposed snow slopes, burying our axes and laying on the slope when we felt we could be flicked off the ridge. The power of the wind here is humbling and by the time we were at base camp a deep respect for the serious nature of this place had settled deep in my gut.

The alarm in our snow cave beeps at 3 AM, but it is not until 10 AM that the forecasted clearing shoves aside the dark clouds. Soon we are on the glacier, making our way towards the route, a day and a half of good weather still available; supposedly.

Amazing climbing, bad weather!

Easy mixed climbing, a challenging gash, and aqua blue water ice pulls us up the wall. The climbing is incredible but by 8 PM the snow begins a soft dance around us. Pushing on into darkness, the climbing gets better, but the weather worsens. The cold settles in and we battle to fight off numbing toes and fingers. While people stumble from the closing bars of El Chalten we make ramen and try to stay afloat in the smothering spindrift.

Amazed and a bit perturbed, Mike and I watch our belay and each other blend into the crystalline whiteness of our vertical world. We are seven rope stretching pitches up a new route on Mermoz, standing on a minuscule foot ledge while the weather crumbles into a blanketing storm. I'm the first to say it. "I don't think we can do this anymore." A ghostly cloud of snow rolls down the couloir and buries us again. Behind thick clouds the sun comes up, but with new light we pull out our second rope and begin the journey down.

Mike leads the rappels as the waves of spindrift pound harder and tougher. My fear elevates with the strength of these dusty avalanches, the route we came up barely visible under all the new snow. As a Patagonia newbie I am truly blown away.

It's over!

Our relief at finally touching down on the glacier is short lived. The milky white out has me stumbling blindly through crevasses as Mikey directs my swaying movement towards the Paso. Finally, after a couple of tense hours we collapse in our snow cave amidst a pile of frozen gear. I brew coffee while Mikey sleeps under a wet bag atop a frozen back pack. Eventually we manage to stumble the eight miles towards town, the prospect of food fueling our tired muscles.

Sitting here now, reliving the experience through words, I realize how excited I am to head back up and finish the route. I've always been amazed at how the inspiration of the mountains can demolish the worst of memories. Like the Balti poet Bowa Johar wrote, "All is temporary. The sky outlives everything. Even suffering."

Going South

2010-12-05T23:31:00.000-08:00

Huge Thanks for the folks who made this trip possible! Patagonia, Powerbar, Tendon Ropes, Petzl, and Icicle Ridge Winery...none of this happens without you!

My fingers ache and my heart beats quick. The packing and cramming is over and psyche is erupting like a volcano. It's officially Patagonia time.

Tomorrow I board a jet plane, cross my fingers, and push towards El Chalten, Argentina. If everything goes smoothly (it certainly may not, but that's part of the fun, right?) I should arrive by mid day Wednesday. It's hard to believe the time to depart is finally here. The training, the working, and the dreaming have given way to the reality of a windswept collection of rimey spikes way down south.

For me, a trip of this magnitude does not fall together easily. In my climbing, as in my life, I have formed special relationships that see me through challenges big and small. None of us can make it alone, that's for sure. I wanted to not only thank all my supporters, but also to specifically point out what they do for me.

Patagonia: While my cams and biners may last a decade, my clothing surely does not. I came into this winter with tattered jackets and blown out layers. One of my largest concerns after Mike Schaefer invited me on this trip was my clothing. Great technical wear is a must, but it's really expensive! Patagonia calmed my anxiety and threw down the best jackets and pants I've ever worn.

Tendon Ropes: Like clothing, ropes don't last forever. I am proud to use Tendon Ropes not only on this trip, but on my daily jaunts to the crags and peaks around my home. A good cord is imperative, especially in a place like Patagonia where wind and coarse granite tears at your line constantly. I am bringing a 9.7 Master down with me, just one great rope in Tendon's line of stellar products.

Powerbar: Anyone who pushes themselves athletically appreciates a tasty and effective bar. As my climbs grow bigger and my training more intense, I have focused a lot of time on finding the best way to stay energized on the go. Laura Omeara, a friend, a Powerbar devotee, and an amazing triathlete (fifth lady overall at the 2010 Ironman Canada!) helped provide me with the best product to push me through long training runs and big routes in wild places.

Petzl: Without a doubt, Petzl creates incredible ice gear, slick low profile harnesses, and amazing hard wear. I love their equipment, but am even more thankful for their generosity in helping me on all my expeditions. They never hesitate to get me what I need and their enthusiasm is infectious.

Icicle Ridge Winery: My biggest supporters (and my employers), Icicle Ridge Winery has set the foundation for my lifestyle. Their flexibility has allowed me to live a climber's life. Not only do they go above and beyond to allow me a schedule that allows me to train and climb, they are friends I cherish and just thinking of them fills me with strength when the going gets tough. Love you guys!

Ok ya'll. It's off to the races. Stay tuned.

Patagonia Dreamin'

2010-11-18T06:54:00.000-08:00

Grapes, rocks, and ice. The simplicity of my recent life has left me with little blogging content and even less time to jot notes about what I've been getting into. But that's all about to change...

On December sixth I leave for Argentine Patagonia for a month of climbing with my good friend Mike Schaefer. This trip is aimed at redemption, as the last time I was down south pneumonia kept me locked in Chalten. A prisoner of my health, I never even touched boot to the approach trail.

To say I've got a fire burning is an understatement. Dreams of Patagonia swirl in my brain and push my training further. Each day, after ten hours of crushing or pressing the fruit of the vine, I slip my shoes on and run into the night. Quiet forests transform into granite giants littered with ice runnels and splitter cracks. Instead of the soft strike of my running shoe on pine needles, I imagine my crampons crunching up a glacier. When I test my fingers and endurance at the local climbing wall I focus my mind on the long pushes ahead, where you climb all day and night, and then keep going.

Home on the range...my beloved training grounds

Working six days a week leaves little time for the mountains, but I have been making use of my one day, testing my mettle against bad weather and crappy conditions. Last week I made my 14th ascent of Dragontail via the NE Coulior and a few days ago Dan Hilden and I climbed to an 8,000 foot saddle between Colchuck and Argonaut's summits. Wind loaded slopes caused us to say no to our original objective, but we still got out and sand-blasted our faces in ferocious winds and blowing snow.

Descending from the Argonaut-Colchuck col in high winds

One more item of note: Anyone who knows me understands that I am NOT a gear head. I climb with simple equipment, always relying on my personal fortitude rather than the latest and greatest. That said, the kind folks at Patagonia (www.patagonia.com) have provided some incredible layers I have been testing the last few weeks. The Nano Puff Hoody, the Micro Puff Hooded Jacket, the M10 Jacket, and the Alpine Guide pants have redefined comfort for me. Going to Patagonia with the best outerwear is surely confidence inspiring!

Testing the new gear (and myself) against pounding spindrift on D-tail's NE Coulior

The Nose: A Free Ascent of Bridge Creek Wall

2010-10-07T20:40:00.000-07:00

Splitters!
My burning heart skips a beat. It's a small bear, but in the sunset I was startled. I keep running, powering up the hill until I can't go on. "It's high enough" I think, before laying two gallons of water next to a squat pine and a jumble of stones. 2,000 feet above Bridge Creek Wall sits lonley and wind swept. A bird screeches in the cold wind. My legs carry me back into the canyon.

Two days later Sol and I are sipping on the water stash under The Nose, a serpentine line of big cracks, chimnies and roofs. For years, the 5.10 A2 skull and cross bones (Viktor Kramer, auther of Leavenworth Rock, uses the symbol instead of R or X designations) rating enticed me. After Max, Sol, and I repeated The Nose this past spring, we knew it would go free. That particular day, the runout, dirty nature of the crux pitch stopped our free effort. This time Sol and I had a few pins and a hammer, hoping to make it sane.

Classic, cleand 5.9 wide

Ropedrag, moss, and a bridge of death blocks led us to the start of the money pitches. A wide, wandery chimney, a traverse, and a connecting 5.10 slab brought us to a needly ledge with a gnarled pine. A bar down the hatch and we were off to splitterville. A four inch offwidth, double finger cracks in a corner, and the best 5.8 splitter in Leavenworth deposited us to the crux cieling. "I'll tag up the pins and hammer if I need them," I say and then start stuffing my feet in the flaring crack leading up the roof. A reach to a hand jam, a jug, and a mantle and I'm through the difficulties. Unfortunately, I am also looking at two broken legs if I blow the spicy exit moves. I take a deep breath, think about the work involved in placing a pin, and decide to climb on.

The crux...not too hard, but don't fall on the face above the roof!

On top, we sit satisfied, enjoying the panoramic view of the Stuart Range. Nine exciting pitches fall away below our battered toes. The water I stashed and the cloud cover keeps us hydrated and happy. Jumping and rapping down the descent slabs leads to the longest sand surf in the world, beer, and the familiar rush of the Icicle.

The Nose

IV 5.11b R

Let It Burn

2010-10-02T19:29:00.000-07:00

Cumbre!

Splitter cracks, good natural pro, and juggy knobs. Challenging lines that demand fitness and technique. Spiky views of Mt. Stuart, Colchuck Peak, and Dragontail. A petite meadow borderd by firery larch trees. In my mind Colchuck Balanced Rock, or CBR, reigns as one of Washington's best alpine rock faces.

Following pitch 2 (5.12a)
On September 22nd, Max Hasson and I free climbed a new route the left of the West Face. Overall we spent 10 days on the route, always climbing ground up to our high point before continuing to push new ground. Wildly steep and pumpy climbing led us through incredible terrain. The features linked a path up the wall and gear was abundant. We hand placed four bolts on route, two on the wild second pitch (5.12a), and two at subsequent belays. A visible blaze dubbed the "Eight Mile Lake Let It Burn Fire" by the National Forest Service, consumed 119 acres while we worked on the route, hence our chosen name.

Pitch 4 (5.11c)

Pitch 5 (5.11c)
Max and I have climbed extensively over the past 8 years, but this experiance was especially satisfying. Let It Burn is an absolute classic. The moves are gymnastic and the route sustained. From the moment we climbed on the line we knew we had to complete the mission. We were inspired to say the least. Our hope is that the route will be repeated this season or next. Let us know what you think!

Puttin' it up

Max on the first ascent of pitch 4

The Sound of Goode

2010-09-10T11:25:00.000-07:00

Black swallows the never-ending trail in front of my weary feet. Drunk on exhaustion, I swerve all over the footpath. A bear crashes in the brush a few feet away, but my trance cuts through the surprise of giants in the dark. Nothing alarms my senses now. Twenty-five hours into the experience and I am dull as a butter knife. I barely know who I am.

In September of 2008 Sol Wertkin and Blake Herrington climbed the complete east ridge of Mt. Goode, the highest point in North Cascades National Park. An icon of the region, Goode’s walls and ridges are fortified with steep brushy slopes, ice-cold river crossings, and a lonely location far from any road or town. Sol and Blake’s line snaked from the summit in winding, gendarmed twists. A sinister exposure swirled on the north side and talus filled gullies trickled down to the south. They named the massive knife-edge the Megladon Ridge in honor of the largest fish to ever swim the seas.

“It’s all about commitment.” Dan’s simple words make decisions easier. Tossing away my harness I pack the swami into my blaring red helmet and stuff it down into my rucksack on top of our shoestring lifesaver. The skinny twin line would most likely severe in the event of any fall, but the peace of mind it provides is worth its featherweight. A few cams short of a single set, a pink tri-cam, and a couple of nuts round out the arsenal. Light is right.

I have always desired to repeat the Megladon. Thoughts of a solo mission swirled in my mind for a few months. I wanted to dive deep into the North Cascades experience, pushing my limits far from humanity. Little did I know that Dan Hilden desired the same pearl of adventure even more than I did. Goode had fostered his climbing progression, serving up adventures appropriate to his building skill set. Over the years, Dan had gone from crawling up the classic NE Buttress over three painful days, to soloing the same route in one day. Now, he wanted something more trying, but more rewarding. When he suggested the Megladon in a push, I eagerly signed up. The idea was as enticing as it was crazy.

In the midst of it all

My eyeballs sting, cut by a salty sweat. The ridge looms in front of me, but I’m focused on the cascading stream falling from a snow patch at its base. We are thirsty and hungry. 15 miles and 9 hard hours are behind us. I dare not let my mind measure what we’ve done. In harsh reality, we’ve only just started. A liter down the hatch and we’re off and soloing. The energy of racing up a mountain unroped in such a spectacular position exhilarates us, washing the fatigue away.

Fun climbing in an incredible position...

Dan made the perfect partner for such a venture. Tough as nails, Dan never complains and always takes on each challenge with thoughtful ambition. Our young, but mature partnership was forged in the icy wasteland of Cascade winter. Dan enjoys climbing hard routes in rotten weather. All day, even in my lowest moments, I pushed myself to maintain composure amidst punishing fatigue. Dan wasn’t complaining and I sure as hell wasn’t going to be the weak link.

Clouds over deep valleys

“Climbing choss is all about distributing your weight properly.” Dan nods in agreement. Our crux has been safely soloing loose, but moderate ground. Carefully, we pick our way through snow and rock towards the distant summit. Twice I pull the rope out to protect airy, more difficult climbing. I lead an exciting pitch downwards to a notch, before stretching the rest of the line out over loose and sharp ground. Just short of the wintry summit, I set a belay and watch Dan manage the verglased, steep funk. Unforeseen challenge is found in the mixed finish. Digging for holds in the snow, we creep towards the top. Puffy clouds cast shadows over the valley floor, five thousand feet below. On the summit we feel high, but yearn to get low before the light leaves. Before long we are tossing our skinny line down the descent gully, rappelling towards the journey home. Once the rope is put away we begin the 20 plus miles towards the car. For the first time, my tired mind loses focus. Hours spent repeating the “one foot in front of the other” mantra ensues.

Sunset descent

Looking back, the 27 hours spent on this mission were filled with months worth of memories. A day can feel like a year when it’s stuffed with ambition. I am overjoyed to have dug for my limits in the rugged beauty of the Cascades and more than ever, looking forward to even bigger adventures in tougher conditions with Dan. Maybe we can pull off something of this magnitude under the icy grip of winter or find similar challenge on higher peaks in greater ranges. The possibilities are endless with a commitment to seeking personal limits and a love for wild places.

Highway 20 under my feet and a dark starry sky above my head marks the end of our journey. I lay under the universe and smile for only a second before losing consciousness and drifting into dreams unremembered. Movement has stopped. The world is still.

Beginnings

2010-08-29T09:09:00.000-07:00

Silent dark fades from a misty Yosemite Valley. Pine needles crackle under the tire of my cruiser as El Cap greets the rising sun. Half Dome sleeps in the shadows, icy cold gripping its broad north face.

At 3:45 AM I don my penguin suit, look in the mirror, realize again how silly the Awahanee's uniforms are, and pedal for eight hours of toilet scrubbing and laundry service. The mornings start the same, but the afternoons bring a variety of lightning bolt fissures, scalloped slabs, pounded out aid seams, and crimpy boulder problems. The granite accepts me as I am, but teaches with tie dye bruises and scabby cuts. My new friends Max and Carson also feel the joyful pain. Gouged hands and knotted muscles lead us to the Zodiac that afternoon. Excited anticipation rises in my gut as I imagine our furry fixed ropes dancing in the wind.

My usual tired ride to work seems magical, dark blue sky edging out the stars and giant streaked walls towering over meadows filled with frosty grass and grazing deer. Dropping off the bike path I swoosh down a section of smooth single track, gaining speed, smiling as the morning air whistles by my face.

Scorching mid-day heat smothers me up the talus hop to the base of the route. Carson and Max ascend the ropes ahead of me, jumaring with a grace I don't posses. Sure enough I struggle to climb the first of our three fixed lines, spinning nauseatingly while struggling to adjust my daisies correctly and ignore the laughter of the cray euros at the base.

"Frickin' sick man. This rules." Carson hands me the rack, his censored language bursting out around the crooked cigarette stuck between his lips. Although I barely managed to climb the first 600 feet of rope, I naively snatch the gear and charge upwards. Going down is not an option. We tossed the ropes just a minute ago. Unfortunately, moving quickly is not either. I labor up diorite cracks and seams above spikes before Carson relieves me for the night shift. A silver moon rises in the sky, it's blue light enhanced by a starry host of cosmic fireballs. The infinite wildness of dark below and above settles in our nerves.

Zodiac is one of my first big climbs. I'm dehydrated and tired. The night sucks Carson into its dark, pitch after pitch, and I stare at the belay, hanging in space, willing him upwards. My hips look like hamburger, my feet cramp at the arches, and painful blood oozes from my cracked fingernails. New exposure and daunting commitment offset the fatigue. Somehow we make progress.

When the light overtakes the dark, Carson relinquishes the rack to Max. He takes his duty seriously and charges for the top. "Let's get 'er done", he placidly remarks amidst his block of golden slabs and skinny cracks.

On the summit we high five and lay around eating a feast of disgusting canned foods. Our throats are dry and our muscles filled with lead, but it all feels good. Hot sun slams our perch. A falcon coasts through blue sky as the wall falls away below our weary bodies. The buzz of The Captain courses through our systems and before long we summon the energy to slip through the manzanita back to life on the Valley floor.

A Holsten Family Vacation

2010-08-21T20:28:00.001-07:00

Sitting out the storm...this is fun, right!?

"Get out of my way!" I loudly think to myself. A green swath of steep brush pulls and pushes me down with all its might. Aggression fuels my muscle as I push madly through a tangle of slide alder and fir. The pin point of a broken branch slices dirty skin and blood trickles down my arm. This is war.

Behind me I hear my father, like a bear in the woods, crashing and slipping upwards through the jungle of pain we have chosen for our yearly "vacation".

Ever since I was small I was taught that life, although beautiful, is a demanding journey where you don't always get what you want, but you always make due with what you have. When I was young I wanted my dad to burn the musty climbing gear and take the family to a beach. Hawaii, Mazatlan, hell, Florida. Take us somewhere sunny, fun, and relaxing.

Despite my tropical dream, Dad and I always chose to work with the world right out the front door of our Seattle home. "Vacation" meant days of walking, climbing, and shwacking our way through the Cascades. Those days taught mental toughness and physical tolerance. My passion for high places sprouted from the long approaches, blocky rock climbing, and glacier crossings the Cascades demand.

Pleasant terrain near Eiley Lake

My father and I still like a nice vacation every once in a while, so August 8th through 11th was set aside for an attempt on Mt. Challenger. Day one saw us cruising up Little Beaver Valley under partly cloudy skies. Days two and three were spent wandering in the mist and trying not to burn the tent down while making hot drinks. Rain pattered all afternoon and night. A sucker hole lured us out from our bivy, but before long the rain resumed as our time dwindled. A pleasant day was spent returning to the car, the emerald waters of Ross Lake lapping at the forest bank as we cruised the flat path through the moss carpeted woods.

Mt. Fury floating in the mist

Time spent in the mountains is always meaningful, especially with my Dad. Although we traveled far only to fall short of the summit, we still enjoyed the new terrain, the thrill of route finding in tough conditions, and each others company. Of course, we are dreaming of our next vacation already. A cruise, surfing in Costa Rica, or a sunny beach all sound nice, but I have a feeling we'll be working with what we've got. Deep valleys, big hills, and high mountains. I wouldn't have it any other way.

Return to the valley

Stuart Range Link

2010-07-28T09:18:00.000-07:00

Yesterday Mike Schaefer and I completed the "short" version of a larger project I have been contemplating the last few weeks. Originally, the idea was to climb Dragons of Eden, the West Face of Colchuck Balanced Rock, and Der Sportsman on Prusik Peak. Of course, I wanted to use only hands and feet for upward movement. The sheer volume of the day and a few unknowns led to a decision to scale things back a bit. In retrospect, with a reworking of the approach, Mike and I were totally capable of the master link, but regardless, yesterday was fun and challenging.

The day began at 5:40 AM and right from the start we were pushing ourselves to move quickly. So quickly in fact that we ended up at the base of DOE in 1:50! We hydrated, took out the climbing gear and started charging up the mountain. About 3.5 hours later we were on the summit. A time check back at our packs showed 12:20 PM. Again, we were surprised to have gone base to base in 4:20. Tactics that helped attain this time included Mike crushing, me linking all three head wall pitches, and us soloing the entire upper portion of the route.

After a short break (10 minutes) we slogged up to CBR. Heat in the gully was energy sapping, but we still managed to keep a decent pace. Although we felt ourselves tiring we climbed as efficiently as possible on the West Face and achieved our second free route in a day! To speed things up on CBR we simuled to the base of the corner in one pitch and then swapped the few remaining leads. A boulder problem to the summit and the double link was done.

At this point, we were seriously considering heading to Prusik. A quick inventory revealed extremely inadequate calories for such a mission. We were willing to abandon Mike's van at the Mountaineer's Creek TH, but the hike out through the night on the Snow Lakes trail would be too taxing we decided. The day had been amazing and we were feeling good. Going further would have been proud, but also would have driven us into the deepest of pain caves.

After deciding we were happy with DOE/CBR, we backed the pace off a bit, sitting at the base enjoying the buzz of such a happy day. Once we did shoulder our packs we started charging. A time check in the talus at the far end of Colchuck lake showed 7:30 PM. We certainly had slowed a bit on CBR, but made up for it on the descent, reaching the van at 8:40 PM.

Although the ultimate goal was not realized, this was a day I won't soon forget. For me, those 15 hours gave a glimpse of whats possible and was a great wrap up of the last few years activities. Thanks to Mike for being the perfect partner. It was a hell of a lot of fun out there.

Finally time to drink beer...

Dragons of Eden: Second Free Ascent

2010-07-25T14:22:00.000-07:00

Just wanted to congratulate Max Hasson with not only completing the second free ascent of DOE, but nearly flashing the rig! His one fall was quickly corrected and the pitch climbed clean. Belaying Max on this journey was especially fun for me. DOE is one of my favorite routes anywhere and to watch Max experience its goodness had me giddy.

I really hope people keep climbing and cleaning this line. Buff it up and watch it shine. DOE is one of the best routes of its nature on the West Coast (biased opinion of course). Nice work again Max!

Get some!

Community

2010-07-25T13:07:00.000-07:00

This life cannot be faced alone. Companionship, support, honesty, and inspiration keep us walking life's trail with a bounce in our step. Most people, including climbers, gravitate towards others with similar passions and ambitions. The energy we receive from our friends fills us up and is passed on, a positive chain reaction that sparks our imaginations, spurs us into motion, and empowers us through the journey of our dreams.

For the past decade I have lived and breathed climbing. I've walked this path with amazing athletes and true friends. Although I've cherished all my experiences, the past few years in Leavenworth have solidified the core of who I am, as a climber and as a person. With clear desires and the positive willingness to get there, my friends and I are living our ambitions and seeing our goals through to the end.

It is difficult not to improve in this environment. Everyone trains hard, pushes above their gear, and finishes their projects. Unless your careful, its easy to fall off the pace. More than ever, I am willing to do whatever it takes to reach the next level. It may sound a bit competitive, and in a healthy sense, it is. Through failure and success we laugh, try hard, and love the mountains. To all my friends, thanks for paving the way and helping me bust my own chains of limitation.

Find community!

Freedom or Death

2010-07-09T08:38:00.001-07:00

Cool breezes through deep shade. Edges, smears, and orange creamsicle granite. Ripples, scoops, cracks, and slabs. Pins, bashies, bolts, and cams. A rugged world of peaks stretching out of sight. Lichen clutching the stone.

The second pitch (5.11c)
These thoughts flood me when I think of the East Face of Liberty Bell. On Wednesday, Jessica Campbell and I completed our journey up Freedom or Death/Liberty Crack. After a cold day last week working through numb digits on small smears and edges, we came back for the send. This time it was T-shirt weather all the way.

Footsy climbing on the crux slab (5.12a). Jessica walking the path.
Max and Sol were a high five away at points, working the free version of Thin Red Line. We enjoyed the scene as if it were a day at the boulders...

Max at a belay, myself following the golden slab.

Max pushing onward to TRL's crux pitch.

With the crux 5.12a slab behind us, Jessica and I sketched our way up a beautiful and bold pitch, connecting the Freedom or Death variation with Liberty Crack proper. Sol and Max monkeyed their way right and out of sight, their own crux hanging above.

Connecting the routes...spicy times on pitch 4

Bon voyage amigos...

The moderate finish of Liberty crack was pure joy. Cool, but not cold, engaging, but not difficult. Their was plenty of time to enjoy the views.

Jessica following pitch 5 (5.10a)

Settling In

2010-06-09T17:21:00.000-07:00

Settling In by Jessica Campbell

Muddy snow sprays from the bald tires of Chase Latta's blue chrysler minivan. We laugh hysterically like the 16 year olds we are. Doing donuts in the Skull Hollow parking lot in the middle of a cold February night beats the hell out of our normal high school lifestyle. The next day we sleep, wake without coffee, and charge towards the sunny walls of Smith Rock State Park. We climb innocent. No ego and no pressure.

Blue Light Special (5.11a) and Liquid Jade (5.12b)

Flash forward to last week. I'm not 16 anymore, but I'm back at Smith, ready for five days on stone that literally directed the course of my life. I learned to push my limits on it's walls and have never looked back.

River

Honcho

Jessica, Chase, Rachel, Max, Ryan, Jasmine, Drew, River, Honcho, and myself (thats a mouthful!) enjoyed a handful of days on the sweeping orange planes of Tuft (the rock type) that is Smith. Sharp crimpers tore tips, tiny feet tested toes, and heady climbing demanded bravery. Smith is awesome.

River watching the sunset

Vision (5.12b)

Go Dog Go (5.12c)

Leavenworth Psyche

2010-06-06T13:54:00.000-07:00

Crisp breezes in golden fall and muddy rivers and wild flowers in new spring. Through these scenes we move in search of stone. Crossing rivers, fighting through brush, and hiking up hills come before climbing and that's how we like it. New challenges lurk around each corner and every monkey has a project. Leavenworth rewards a patient, creative approach. Amazing lines exist, but don't reveal themselves readily. Like many, I am passionate about it's domes, boulders, and walls.

This past spring, the psyche was nudged higher with the release of Viktor Kramer's newest edition of Leavenworth Rock. Viktor loves the canyons and it shows; Leavenworth Rock is awesome and inspiring.

Nice job Viktor!

So, if the unseasonable wet spring is getting you down, come out to the canyons and chase the rainshadow. For a little psyche I've uploaded a video shot and made by Max Hasson. Rat Creek Dome is a shady hang on the south side of the Icicle. Last season I led a fun top rope there called Codpiece Crack. Small fiddely gear and sizeable runouts made for some fun sports action. Nice work on the video Max!

Codpiece Crack from Jens Holsten on Vimeo.

The Curve

2010-05-23T18:31:00.000-07:00

"Finally", I think. My eyes dart up silver paths slicing black stone. I am no expert, but this is good, very good. Joel Kauffman and Dan Hilden cross a frozen Colchuck Lake towards the North Face of Dragontail, a peak I just can't stay away from.

I've banged my head against Dragontail's walls, ridges, and couliors for years, learning and progressing. The Backbone stole Rudy Ruana's 4.5 camelot when I shoved it tight and deep into the crux wide pitch. I was young, but I saved money from Vertical World shifts and replaced the piece. That climb lit a fire in my soul and was worth every single penny. Max Hasson and I climbed a new route on the same face years later, learning the joy and the rush of pushing ourselves in the mountains. Sol Werkin and I made the first free ascent of Dragons of Eden and forged a new friendship. Most recently negative temps froze Cole's toes and stole my confidence. It hasn't all been easy.

Too much fun; loving it on the Cotter-Bebie

All in all, I've made 10 ascents of Dragontail. I've failed on half as many. Climbing is hard, even on peaks you know well. These days, I am striving to understand the world of mixed climbing on cold faces. The last two years I've walked into the North Face in winter conditions more times than I would like to admit. Most times I bailed. A few times I made the summit, but the ice wasn't drooling over the slabs and the neve wasn't filling the voids between blocks. I yearned for the real experience.

Conditions are everything. I am learning that about ice and mixed climbing in the Cascades. The last few weeks I've climbed the North Face twice in stellar nick. Those 200 miles from Bridge Creek Campground to the face seem worth it now. Everyday I watch the weather from my window at home and visualize what's happening up high. I scan NOAA and hone into the temps. I am learning.

Dan cranking a mixed move on the Serpentine Arete

This week we climbed the Cotter-Bebie to the upper Serpentine Arete, a challenging endevour in spindrift and snow. The climbing blew my mind. Rock edges, hard snow, and real ice sucked up my picks and showed me what I need to learn and work on to progress in this world.

Even after twenty years climbing still fascinates me. There are so many facets of the sport. So many things to learn. Someday I hope to take the skills I build on Dragontail and put them to a higher use in a far away land. Until then and always I will enjoy the learning curve.

For more pics and another report, check out http://joelandneilsclimbingblog.blogspot.com/

Words of the Week

2010-05-08T09:48:00.000-07:00

Warrior

Red blood trickles down her forearm. Coarse, colorful rock takes skin and determination. You can see it on her face, her furrowed brow and clenched jaw pushing her through the next funky hand jam, over the next bulge. The way the corner leans contorts her stems. They seem almost horizontal. Two hundred feet of green, orange, and yellow streaks fall away from her feet to the bushy talus, the river, and the mountains beyond.

The Next Corner

A two tiered castle of stone stands in the sand, thirsty vegetation crowding its base. Three friends, packing two skinny ropes, and gear to 5 inches versus one thousand feet of mystery and dirt. Clouds grow fat in the sky as they inch up wide cracks and stand on crunchy smears. Thin jackets fight against the wind. A gnarled pine corkscrews into the storm. It is the questions that make this day alive. Will the weather hold? How much longer does this wide crack last? Can I climb the overhang before dark? What is around the next corner?

The Dragon’s Tail

Sticky, cold ice draws the pick of an axe into a world of blue. Crampon points swing through the air and then into the snow again. They climb towards a ceiling of grey, following the path of a million lazy snowflakes. A skinny shoot of neve, a frozen constriction, and a wide open snow slope brings them closer to the Dragon’s last defense. Black rock stands between two highways of white. They shoulder their daggers and storm the castle. A flake leads to black, blocky steps peppered with a slippery blend of lichen and snow. A dagger is unsheathed and stabbed into an icy patch. The Dragon’s back has been broken.

Todra Express

2010-05-03T07:22:00.000-07:00

Todra Lifestyle by Jessica Campbell

Todra Express

Africa rushes past in midnight windows. The night train chugs across Morocco from the coastal city of Tangir, to Marrakech. Jessica, Rigel, and I sleep in a small cabin on red plastic mattresses. Dreaming the miles away kills two birds with one stone. Rest and progress combined. When we step out into the glistening and modern train station we casually sip espresso and talk about plans while the world outside stirs in hazy sunrise. A call to prayer echoes through the city.

Hitting the streets, we stick out like three very sore thumbs. A roundabout taxi ride puts us in a chaotic bus station. Our destination is the Todra Gorge, a narrow chasm of vertical, sand colored limestone twelve hours bus ride south. A single screwdriver keeps the bus running as we creep across the High Atlas Mountains and into the vast deserts of southern Morocco. We sweat from the heat, from the men arguing and pointing fingers in the middle of the bouncing bus, and of course, from being different.

“I am a guide for climbing and hiking. Where are you staying?” Before we even arrive in Tinerhir, the launching point for The Todra Gorge, local men try persistently to get my Dirhams (local currency) in change for room and board. Everyone’s house was “only” and few kilometers from the climbing and the “best” deal one could find anywhere.

When we do finally stretch our sweaty backs and shoulder our bags at the end of the bus journey the scene changes little. Everyone still wants our Dirhams and we fight our way across a busy street towards a ratty ATM. I feel many eyes. Most I don’t trust, but we need a place to rest and a ride into the Gorge.

“I feel really good about Nazi Jens. I think we should stay at his riad.” Although I was skeptical, Jessica has an amazing sense for people and their character. Soon we twist up windy roads into a narrowing canyon of red gritty rock. “As Is”, one of Morocco’s hottest pop artists hammers in the radio. Nazi talks to us about his love of the land and his people, the Berbers. Morocco’s native inhabitants, many Berbers still live nomadically in the deserts and mountains of their beautiful country.

Two hours later we were enjoying “Berber whiskey” (green tea with sugar and mint) in Nazi’s open-air riad. A cool breeze flapped the guidebook pages as we ate and talked to our new friend Hassan about his hand drawn topos and his experience on the gritty cliffs of the Todra. Moonlight brings massive walls out of the shadows as we feast on couscous and veggies. We can’t wait to climb.

Climbing in the Todra Gorge started in the 1960’s and several locals I spoke with remember being wide-eyed children when those first rope and piton laden explorers walked through their village. Now days, most people climb on the hundreds of quality sport climbs that are both in the Gorge proper and in the surrounding hills. Although the Todra has received some publicity in the past few years I was surprised to meet very few climbers. Amazing routes rise chalkless into the sky. Birds soar on backwater breezes above empty walls of tiger stripped limestone.

Despite typical third-world food illness we sampled a variety of amazing routes in the following days. Enjoying coffee, bread, jam, and yogurt with new friends on the patio of the riad became the morning ritual. When the sun rose hot and high we’d steal off into the Gorge, cooling breezes rushing between its massive walls. The climbing was magnificently technical, the moves thoughtful and the footholds small. The neglected routes engaged all the skills of onsight climbing. Holds were rarely visible in their gritty brown camo and without chalk and boot rubber, one had to rely on monkey sense to pick a path through the spacey bolts.

One of the best cliffs we visited was called Les Jardins D’ete. It sat like a king on hillside, its 400 feet of fiery rock steeply rolling into a dark blue sky. Not as visited as some walls this crag had a peaceful, quiet feeling to it. Down in the chasm of the gorge we could make out the vendors, the animals, and the general hustle and bustle. The action seemed to be squeezing out of the narrow canyon on both ends, an interesting clash of wilderness and culture.

“Insallah!”. Hassan waves from the shaded patio of a teahouse as Jessica and I walk back to the riad after our last day of climbing. I almost stop in my dusty tracks, finally realizing my most important lesson from the Todra and its people. Insallah is a common phrase in the Muslim world. It means “God willing” or “if God wills it”. I had heard it before as we all have, but never gave it much thought. This day, after telling Hassan that we want to return again, I realized that he was right. To make plans a year or two out as many of us climbers do (sometimes out of necessity), is a shallow endeavor without recognizing the power of time that separates us from that trip or that climb. I look around me and take in the humanity of the Todra. A child runs barefoot through the muddy banks of the river and then runs to me, asking for money and food. A hunched old man shuffles through the dust as a diesel truck barrels past, the created gust nearly knocking him off his feet. A candy wrapper tumbles across the street and is caught in a thorny green bush. In this world, it is easy to realize that each new day is a gift. To know the happenings of tomorrow or the next year is a foreign idea when the battle to survive rages daily.

Snapping back to reality I jog to catch up with Jess, already a hundred meters ahead. We talk of our return as we exit the gorge and enter the rolling palmery that surrounds our riad. We dream of more climbs, more new friends, and more lessons learned in a world so different from our own. For now we need to focus on packing our bags and making the night bus out of Tinerhir. Transportation is a little unreliable here in Africa, but I think we will make it. Insallah, of course.

Todra Sunrise

2010-04-14T07:01:00.001-07:00

African sun floating on a prayer,

Flesh and bone on knees,

Sands of time filtered through waving palm trees.

Heat warms dusty streets,

Red walls glow with retreating night,

Song of the rooster kindles new light.

Berber on a hill,

Black flock in sight,

Smoke rises, twisted tight.

Gash in ancient earth,

Hands and feet tacked on gritty stone,

A connection with Africa, all I've ever known.

El Chorro Psyche

2010-04-05T01:26:00.000-07:00

Hey guys-

Jessica, Rigel, and I are about to get in our speedy little rental and zoom around Portugal's southern coast for the day, but I thought I would post a few teaser shots from El Chorro climbing. Enjoy!

Alicia (5.12c)

Jess crushing on Bienvenidos Al Circo (5.12a)

140 meters of incredible stemming on Judea Del Frenta Popular (5.12a)

Two views of the classic Tipo Sueco (5.11d)

Spain/Morocco

2010-03-31T01:19:00.000-07:00

Hi Friends!

Just wanted to give a small update on my travels. I am currently in Sevilla, Spain dealing with the culture shock of big city hustle and bustle versus the High Atlas (beautiful mountain range in Morocco) lifestyle I have been enjoying the past week or so. I am safe and psyched and have a ton of great blog material (writing, video, and pictures) coming your way next week when I arrive home. The highlight of my trip has been new friendships made with Berber friends (Morocco´s original inhabitants, many of whom live a nomadic lifestyle in the deserts and mountains of their beautiful country). I am already salivating at the thought of a trip next winter to connect with them and climb on the gigantic, dusty red walls of their homeland. The climbing has been great of course, both in Spain and Morocco. I have enjoyed focusing on sport climbing, a style I literally never practice these days. Five years as a Cascade Slogger (a label introduced by my Cali rock crushing friends) didn´t help me send 8a, but I did manage to onsight 5.12 fairly consistently, proving to myself that I am reaching my goal of being a well rounded alpinist.

Now, Jessica, Rigel, and I are spending a few days sightseeing and relaxing (we should be on the beaches of Portugal tomorrow) before our flight to the States April 8. Can´t wait to get home and back into the mountains...alpine ice anyone? See ya soon!

Winter of Discontent

2010-03-31T01:14:00.000-07:00

Being an athlete is not always easy. The pressure, the restlessness, and the drive (all self imposed) constantly spur us towards future goals. At times this cycle is gratifying, our success building confidence and leading to more inspiring endevours. But there are also the dry times, when we fall short of our expectations and no matter how bad we want it, we don't send.
2009 was one of the best years I've ever had climbing until a cold night out froze Cole's toes and sent me into personal crisis. I felt lost in my ambition, charging into the mountains only to be gripped with fear. Even though 2009 was a year for sending, it was also spicy. A flake of rock fell off Dragons Of Eden, shattering into dozens of granite missles that obliterated our lead line and nearly did the same to my head. A fifty foot fall below the Burkett Needle threatened my life within hours of arriving in Alaska. And then there was Cole's frostbite.

Raymond Cole Allen, for those of you who don't know him, defines the word beast. His strength seems super human due to endless positive phsych and a deep love for the mountains no matter what they're serving up. It also doesn't hurt that he's 200 pounds of pure muscle.

In the past few years I've done some wonderful climbs with Cole, summits that may not have been reached without him. Since the eighth grade we have shared friendship and intense passion for all mediums of climbing. If anyone understands what I feel when I look towards the mountains Cole does. Niether of us has ever fought that magnetic pull, unwavering devotion to the sport defining our lives. One joy we shared the last few years is the discovery of winter climbing. Frigid temps, short days, and hard climbing demand intense motivation. We have grown to love this style, our endless psyche funnled into upward movement in an icy, beautiful world. The anciness that we feel at the crags or boulders has no place here. We never have to wait our turn and we love moving in the mountains for hours on end. When Cole's toes blackened with cold injury our dreams for 2010 were shattered.

Although I still managed over forty pitches of ice and four summits this past winter, it was not with the desired confidence and joy. I felt scared and unfocused, always struggling to live in the moment. I tried my projects, but with little heart, bailing after the approach each time.
Now, as winter shifts to spring, new feelings are breaking the ground of cold memories, reaching towards the brightness of future. My head is clear and my heart is thankful for life and lessons learned. Exciting adventures are on the horizon and Cole's toes are getting better each day. In a life of climbing there are bound to be tough times. I'm glad to have this particular rough patch behind me.

The Reticent Hardman

2010-01-17T08:48:00.000-08:00

I'm bold, I'm bad,
Only the mountains know who I am, The Reticent Hardman.
I slip through spray with skill and cunnining,
My climbs would deserve a Golden Piton if I were in the running.
But I'm not, for my ego, small and pure as it is,
Holds off on reporting climbs, small or big.
Most only know me by a secret avatar name,
I get on the net and declare actions lame.
It wasn't a first ascent and its not as hard as you said,
I did it back in '79, every pitch led.
I'm sick of the boulderers, slack lines and bowls,
Big numbers, hard sends, it's out of control.
I saddle up to my keyboard and turn down the lights,
This ranting post could take all night.
Tapping away at lettered keys,
I pen an electronic message designed to take posers out at the knees.
Rotten WI4 and scary 5.10,
I'd like to see any young gun repeat these ascents.
Bolted 5.12 and Mwhatever make me sick,
Stuck in my ways with no chance to improve is what makes me tick.

*Note
This fun little poem is a stance against the judgement of certain climbers in our community. They claim to rise above "spray", all the while playing climbing police and reveling in their hardness...all behind a fake name and a computer screen. I'm not losing sleep over it, rather just having fun with the idea. Ego is a central issue of hardcore climbing, whether we like to admit it or not. I struggle with my ego contstantly, but I never deride the efforts of others or claim my style to be "the way".

Base Building

2010-01-04T07:58:00.000-08:00

Blue cold water drips off the fang of ice and winds its way down the shaft of my axes. I swing over the bulge, trusting the feel of my pick’s bite, my tools invisible in 6 inches of new snow. Two distinct crunches and my feet are positioned. I stand tall and mantle. Tapping up lower angle ground towards the belay I feel the buzz of exhilaration. A relative beginner on ice, the energy of discovering upward movement through sheets of frozen water fills me.

Max on the season's first ice: fat 'n easy on The Goatee

The last few weeks have been a frenzy of swings and kicks, snowy hikes, and moderate alpine climbing. I call it base building. I remember one of my early mentors, Taylor Roy, telling me I should do every 5.11 at the crag before trying a 12a. Build a foundation through habitual action and experience. Essentially climb everything you possibly can so as to engrain the feeling of upward movement into your deepest being. The movement becomes a part of your natural reaction to the vertical world, making those daunting steps between grades less significant. And so for now, I am swinging my axes at any good, bad, pretty, or ugly ice that will support my weight. Every time my tools are wielded I become increasingly comfortable, my technique more focused and sure.

Max on Chair Peak

When I drive through the canyons near my home I strain my neck to check the progress of those ever changing sculptures of hard water. Each day they take on a different shape and beauty. When a climb looks ready we swing the car to the shoulder, tighten our boots, and shoulder our packs. A beginner’s nervousness grips my throat just the way I like it. Before long we hang our weight from tools, placing total trust in those metal extensions of our arms. Every day I feel less separation from the ice I climb, my gear becoming a part of my body, allowing me to tune into the intricacies.

Chair Peak fun

Yet as much as I love waterfall climbing, it is no end all for me. My focus lies in high peaks and alpine adventures. Learning to climb ice is the next step in my development as a mountaineer, filling the empty spaces of my skill set. A peek out my front door shows rain and slop. Heavy snow falls in the high places. But when it clears and stable conditions return (they will, they must!) it will be time to take the experience of the past few weeks and apply it to the winter’s goals of hard peaks cloaked in their toughest armor.

One Step Too Far

2009-12-13T08:24:00.001-08:00

The North Face of Dragontail: lean and cold

Dark air interuppted by sparks of light, my picks find no resting place. I hook an edge, match a tool, and throw the other in five-inches of snow on rock. Shifting my body weight onto the slab, unexplainable forces bond water and stone. I don't fall. As I go higher the snow is deeper and more secure, but I know it will only last until the next rock band. All too soon I am forty feet out again, trusting life and limb to a frozen disc of moss, feet splayed out on steep verglased blocks of granite. I don't want this challenge turned nightmare to last any longer.

Cole following low on the route

"Oohh!" Cole's monkey call pushes through the winter forest. I step akwardly over a fallen log and gaze at the north face of Dragontail. Even though I've summited many routes on this peak I feel intimidated. 2000 feet of rock and snow on a mile wide face has me feeling small, so I turn my focus to the trail in front of me. One foot in front of the other and we're setting up basecamp in a shifting fog. The sun falls, but light is constant in a rising full moon. I hold hot choclate between sweaty palms and let my eyes follow a cold path up skinny couliors and tilted snowfields. The cruxy rock bands that seperate easier ground look difficult, but passable. That night, Cole and I stare at the illuminated cieling of our tent, each lost in excited thoughts about the day to come. "Remember when we used to bike and bus to Little Si (the local crag we learned on)? I could never sleep before those days either," I reminicsed. "Tell me about it! I haven't slept in three nights!", said Cole. Between packing, approaching, and finally climbing, there had been plenty of excitement. Finally, I hear Cole snoring. I follow his lead into my own dream world just as the full moon slips beyond a ridge and darkness settles in.

The slow return of light and a new day evolves seamlessly from the night. A heavy fog obscures the rising sun as our Dragonfly roars through the gloom. Soon we crampon towards the Gerber-Sink and start up. We are prepared for a neve dash to the summit, armed with a few pieces. We use a 40 meter rope, hoping to move together up the face in a matter of hours. The difficulty of the first two rock bands suprise me. I'm using every trick in the book and fighting hard for pro. I think of retreat, but then a fun coulior and a snow field push me a few hundred more feet towards the next rock cliff. As always, Cole follows quickly and efficiently with no complaints about the long belays and difficult climbing. I make one more horrific lead to a hanging snow field that looks to promise quicker movement for the remainder of the route. Unfortunetely, challenging conditions have forced me to climb variations that are less direct and as darkness falls we hang from an off-route snag cemented by snow and stone and eat a bar for the first time all day. The climbing has been some of the scariest I have ever experianced. Every pitch I dig through snow to find a few pieces that are barely adequete. Most of the time those pieces are well below my boots while I execute hail-mary mixed moves. This brings up an important question. Why am I doing this?

I don't know.

But I do know we are not going down anymore. I look over my left shoulder and follow our boot tracks down the face until they blend into black granite. Our rope wouldn't even make that rappel, I think. I start off into the night shift, frustrated at our predicament, but committed to climbing as quickly as I can to the safety of the summit coulior. I arc leftwards for a few hundred feet, before moving up into the final difficult stretch of climbing. I begin to lead, but return to the belay, cursing the unprotected, scratchy mixed ground I am on. My brain is mush. "These leads are killing me Cole," I whimper. For a moment I feel the end of my ropes slipping through my palms. I arrest the lack of confidence, shove it deeply away, and find a place next to Cole to rest for a bit. Another bar and ten minutes of shut eye are all I get before I am out on the lead again. The final step holds a few inches of sugar snow over rock. I pendulem between different snow patches, trying to gain elevation any way possible. Finally, I am 40 feet from the end of the pitch. All I have to do is go for it. A thin snow finger wiggles upwards before me. I know there will be no pro, but I pray for a stick or two at the final bulge. Charging upwards I don't think of falling this time. Frozen moss and a kamikaze scream of adrenaline propel me through the pitch and into the coulior above. "600 easy feet to the summit," I think as the sun rises. Of course it is beautiful and Cole and I gawk at the views of our beloved Cascades. For a few minutes we forget the horrors of the past hours. Perfect, moderate snow climbing in an intense alpine setting takes us to the top. We high five and laugh.

Myself in the final coulior

Summit shot

Our descent is quiet. We both think about life, climbing, and our choice to push the envelope like we do. By the time we are back at base camp I am seeing visions. I am so worked. We fire up the stove and begin hydration and nutrition exercises. We need food and water badly. Cole tries to remove his boots, but finds the toe area of his right sock to be a solid block of ice. Only 30 minutes of thawing over the stove allows him to remove the sock and get his boot back on. His feet look wet, but normal and soon we are hiking the ten miles towards our car.

"What's up homie." Cole is still in bed. He sits up. "Are you going to work today?", he asks. Even though the last 48 hours stretched us beyond our limits, I have things to do and plan to resume normal life this very morning. "I think I bruised my toes in those boots. They are so damn small." I look at Coles feet and my heart sinks. Even though I've never seen frost bite in person, I can recognize a cold injury. After some research and a few phone calls I am feeling scared. His feet are clearly in serious condition. We end up in the ER and learn that he in fact does have a fairly severe case of frost bite on six toes. I stare at the steril white walls and curse myself over and over. Why didn't I bail when I knew the climbing was taking too long? Why wasn't I more concerned about cold injury, especially knowing that Cole's foot wear was questionable? Why, why, why...the wheels spun out in my brain.

Reality check

So, that brings me to today. Cole is recovering on the couch after a week of questions and finally anwers. It looks like he will be keeping all of his digits, which of course was a our major concern, but his road to recovery will last months. It hurts to see my friend in pain. Damn the mountains. But even now, I am dreaming of another winter battle. Climbing, no matter what, will always inspire me to push my limits for reasons known and unknown, but the past week has been grounding. I feel like I let my perspective slip up there on Dragontail. Our experiance wasn't worth Cole's pain. I should have bailed when I knew how difficult and cold the climbing was. It's hard not to fall into the hype of hard sends and high summits, but the reality is mountains are uncaring and kill with no mercy. 2009 has made that clear to the climbing community. Everyong knows the saying, "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger." I certainly hope that applies here.

Nada Chance

2009-11-26T12:03:00.000-08:00

Looks good, but behind the thin curtain the water rages

A few minutes after I read the words, Nada Lake Falls is in (thanks Craig for hiking up there!), shavings of metal fell from the picks of my axes. When they seemed sharp enough, I worked on dull crampons, then stepped out into the crisp evening air. A cold, star studded sky stole my imagination and that night I dreamed of good picks and the rhythm of ice climbing.

The next afternoon, Cole Allen and I pushed through fresh, knee deep snow to a bivi at Nada Lake, only 40 minutes from the base of the falls. We sipped on whiskey and cocoa and enjoyed the alpine bliss. But soon, I felt the dread of warm air pushing up valley. A pesky pineapple express had come to ruin our fun. Hopefully it would stay cold enough. When I woke up at mid night to hard rain and a soaked tent, I knew our chances of success were dwindling. Still, we made our way to the falls the next morning, establishing a tricky path through giant boulders only lightly covered with a wet, gloppy snow. The formation was there, but so was the rushing water. When I swung my axe into the ice, it easily punched through into the raging torrent behind. Getting creative, I started to work out a mixed start a bit to the right of the main falls, hoping to climb consistently crappy, but lower angle ice up high. After establishing a belay on top of pitch one, the sun kissed ice daggers above my head, melting them further and causing them to crash down around me. Clearly, this was not the place to be in the rising temps, now in the lower forties. So down we went. Back at camp, a large ice fall boomed across the valley. It seems we had made the right choice just in time.

Part of climbing in the alpine is making smart choices even when all you want to do is go up. That day at Nada Falls, Cole and I followed our intuition well, had fun, and came home safe. This is just the start of a season we are dedicating to major winter projects in the Cascades and the lesson learned in retreat was a great reminder that winter climbing is fickle. You gotta want it, but you gotta be level headed. Success can be rare on these short, dark days, but when it all lines up, there is nothing like a winter summit in the Cascades.

Powergonia

2009-11-26T10:33:00.000-08:00

Sol hiking Pile Driver (5.11b) mid link

You gotta make training enjoyable. The more fun it is, the more you will do it. And remember, it doesn't have to be fun to be fun.

My good friend Sol Wertkin is perhaps my most motivated training partner. In a previous blog post titled The Games Climbers Play (May 2009), I rehashed another training "game" that we used this past spring where we tried to link Leavenworth's 15 most classic 5.11 pitches. Looking back, that little "game" provided a solid base of fitness and flow that flowered into a successful summer of goals reached and dreams established.

Last week Sol and I tried our hand at another self-imposed challenge, a link up of all the pitches on the Powerhouse Wall, a chunky, overhanging chosspile in the desert of Central Washington. Although the quality of climbing is nothing to write home about, it will get you pumped, a nice challenge for us low-angle traditional climbers (I rarely sport climb, although I should more for sure!). Anyone climbing these fairly short routes would find themselves pumped and confused. The blocky nature of the rock makes on sighting or flashing very difficult. A good hold always lurks close by, but will you find it? The extra time searching for the hidden jug makes for even better training.

The title of this piece speaks to the gusty wind that swept the desert basin that day. We started to make the connection between Patagonia's weather and our game at the Powerhouse Wall. I think it is really great that as climbers, we can be inspired and have fun on the world's most iconic walls and peaks (like in Patagonia) and then capture those same feelings on the state's scrappiest wall of choss. Bottom line, climbing is fun no matter where you are as long as you have the right attitude and good friends to share the joy with. So get out there, train hard, and have fun!

Get Some

2009-11-16T07:28:00.000-08:00

Drew on Yellow Fever

A ray of sunshine casts itself over my wood, slatted floor. I sit up in my creaky bed, realizing the snow must have stopped. Outside my front door a silent world stands frozen in winter. But the storm of yesterday has lost its gusto, only whispy clouds over the desert east to remind the land how it was smothered in icy white crystals. The mountains stand out sharp against deep blue skies, north faces webbed with runnels and dark, black stone. I fire up the espresso maker and dial up my friend Drew. "Hey man, it's too nice. I can't go to work today." His voice is sleepy, but he too wants to climb through this wonderland of seasons. Soon, we slip around icy roads, craning our necks to catch a glimpse of high south facing slopes. In the canyon depths the dark cold of winter builds, but higher in the sun, the rocks stand their ground. We see a route shining in warmth above the iron gray Wenatchee River. Not even a water streak on it's steep flanks. We scamper over verglass covered granite eggs, kick dirt up a sandy gully, and then finally traverse into the sun and over to an exposed belay perch under our chosen route. "It's called Yellow Fever," I say. "It looks bouldery," says Drew. I shove off the belay, clipping bolts and stabbing at crimps. The 5.12 moves don't lend well to easing in to the day, so I ease off the rock, falling through steep air. We each warm ourselves with sequencing before redpointing the route. Already, the sun dips behind Icicle Ridge and our day is done. Short, but sweet, I'm thankful for any dry move this time of year. We coil the rope and stuff our packs with harnesses and draws. A tough cold slowly reels the hillside in. We slide down the stiff gravely slope, laughing at our fortune. The final hurrah of the rock season perhaps? I look higher on the hill where the sun still shines. I don't think so.

A clash of seasons: November in L-town

Eternal Dreams

2009-11-15T17:12:00.000-08:00

Ganesh, Annapurna, Ama Dablam. In the bright darkness of the infinite world that follows, you see the mountains of your life. You summit each one again, alone, like usual, except now it is so easy, so warm, so perfect. On Nanga Parabat you asked, "How long do I have left – the eternal question? How long can I keep this up? How long?" Forever, forever. Bobaye, Nuptse, Dhaulagiri. The depths of hell in heaven itself. The highest, the hardest, your calling, your journey. And now, that path turns a different curve, angles of another universe. Through this new terrain you move as you always did, confident and courageous. Always upwards, solo through eternal dreams.

Rest in peace Tomaz...

Challenge of the Stuart Range

2009-11-05T07:52:00.000-08:00

Coming home from the desert this week has been quite a treat. A nice high pressure system has made for great climbing. From the boulders of the river valleys to the winding couliors of the alpine realm, options for ascension this week were quintessential Leavenworth; pretty much endless. The only option you won't find in this varied mountain environment is sport climbing. Oh well, no skin off my back (I really do enjoy clipping bolts sometimes). I spent one day rope soloing at Careno Crag, one day chasing power on the boulders, and one, huge day in the Stuart Range.

The North Ridges of Sherpa Peak and Stuart, both wonderful climbs

Oh man, why do I do this to myself....

On Tuesday evening, my buddy Max drove me out to the Mountaineers Creek parking lot. Or he tried to. They had closed the dirt road to the trailhead extra early so I started with an unexpected extra four miles. No matter...good training for winter climbing, when the road is always closed, adding snowy miles to any adventure. Even though I was not planning on climbing (I took crampons and trekking poles, but no axe), I was challenged with early season terrain. Verglas covered rock, dustings of snow over icy blue glaciers, patches of slide alder football fields long, it seemed that even the easiest sections were difficult. Many times, I wondered what I had gotten myself into. I bivied tuesday night under the NW flanks of Colchuck Peak. At first light I climbed up to the ridge between Colchuck and Argonaut Peaks. This ass-blasting slog through thick brush almost had me in tears at a point or two, but I pushed on. Gaining the ridge, I pushed through a few feet of snow, around Colchuck Peak, over ragontail and out the Snow Creek trail, where I arrived at 5:30 to find my friends celebrating my safe return. We swallowed a couple of beers and then went out for Mexican food, a perfect end to honestly, quite a hellish day. In 24 hrs (I slept for eight of those) I covered at least 30 miles, gaining and losing a total of 20,000 feet. The conditions were barely passible for me at points, but creative thinking always won the day. Even though this seems it would be an easy "hike", this was one of my toughest outings in the mountains. Perfect training for the suffering of the coming winter. Psyched.

Fun terrain, high on the traverse

Creek Life

2009-11-02T08:11:00.000-08:00

The crispness of Autumn morning erased inch by red inch.

The rolling heat of new sun pushing down walls, through cottenwoods and sage.

Touching frosty tents, raising battered warriors.

Lick the grit off my teeth, savor the simple taste of earth.

Shoulder a pack and laugh with friends.

Find flow in in easy movement.

Seek limits in unforgiving fissures.

Do or fly.

Infinite walls march into hues of setting sun.

A steep descent to sandy dinner, fire light on smiling faces.

Hot and sandy: John enjoys creek life

Watch out for The Judge (5.12a)

*On my trip to the Southwest, I enjoyed four, fun filled days at the creek with friends. What a special place!

Tower Tales: Chasing Heroes in the Castle Valley

2009-11-02T07:26:00.001-08:00

Tower power: Castleton, the Rectory, and the Fishers themselves

The mighty mountains and great walls of the world's largest ranges have and always will provide adventures of the highest intensity. But the overwhelming experiance of being plastered to swaths of ice and rock can be felt elswhere, namely in the uniquely distilled form of "tower climbing".

John praising the Most High on Jah Man (5.11-)

Across the American Southwest, muddy sandstone formations of the trippiest sort twist and convulse from dusty red earth. While only a few hundred feet in heighth, their sheer angles, dark wide cracks, and sandy, insecure stone simulate adventure twice as high, as cold, as forboding. Like kings, they command wide open spaces from thrones of talus, their form against a grainy desert sky unmistakable from miles away.

Inside and on top: Honeymoon Chimneys (5.11)

Into the sunset: Kor-Ingalls, Castleton Tower (5.9)

John saying his prayers on Holier Than Thou: The Nuns (5.11+)

Only days ago I left the comfort of my home peaks, granite cliffs, and pine studded hillsides for immersion in a foriegn landscape of crumbling rock, lonely space, and startiling simplicity. For me, adventure is what I seek in climbing. Grade chasing, redpoints, and onsights provide ways to measure myself as an athlete, but they do not define my life as a monkey. John Schmid, a desert conessuir and long time friend, picked me up in Grand Junction, Colorado and the next morning we raced through the sage towards Castle Valley, a land of towers tamed by popularity and accessability. That said, my longing for excitement was satisfied with each route we climbed. Spending a day and a half in the Valley our ascents included, Jah Man on the Sister Superior (5.10), the Corkscrew Route on Acient Art (5.10+), Honeymoon Chimneys on the Priest (5.11), Holier Than Thou on the Nuns (5.11+), Fine Jade on the Rectory (5.11-), and the Kor-Ingalls on Castleton (5.9). Although none of the ground we covered was too difficult, the giddiness of fear was present on each climb. Humility struck deep as I imagined the desert masters of old executing flannel arm bars, blue jean knee scums, and big boot foot switches all far above less than adequate protection. The self-reliance and creativity of the early explorers echoes in the bottomless chimneys and lonely summits of all desert towers, even the tame ones John and I were on. It was a wonderful reminder that climbing is not about sticky rubber, cams, and big sends, but rather strength of heart, belief in oneself, and a willingness to follow the rock where it takes you.

Shiverer Bivering!

2009-10-14T07:44:00.000-07:00

Hi guys! Just wanted to point you to http://bluewaterropes.blogspot.com/2009/10/shiverer-bivering-fa-of-gorillas-in.html

This video, produced by my friend Cedar Wright, features Sol Werkin, Blake Herrington, and myself suffering through a cold night on the first ascent of Mt. Stuart's "Gorilla's in the Mist". I have to give major props to Cedar for taking my mediocre footage and doing something creative with it. The feeling that pervades the piece is not far off what it was like to be there that day. Cedar is behind two blogs that are making quite a stir in the climbing world. Not only does he generate fun material for http://bluewaterropes.blogspot.com, he also runs http://verticalcarnival.blogspot.com, always the first site I check out when I sit down at the computer. The amount of new material is amazing and the original footage and music combine to produce videos unlike any others in climbing media. So, finish reading this and check out the bluewater site or the carnival...it's well worth it.

Squeak of the Humiliated

2009-10-06T07:33:00.000-07:00

48 years ago a talented foursome pounded this pin into a random roof on Lower Castle Rock, a scruffy, but classic formation on the east flanks of the Cascade Mountain Range. Eric Bjornstad, Guido Magnone, Les McDonald, and Jean Coure dubbed their three pitch route, "Squeak of the Humiliated", its culminating feature a curving roof crack 300 feet above the Wenatchee River. In 1962 it took every trick in the book to the tackle the bizzare overhang. Pin stacks and gymnastics in aiders saw them through to the easier, knobby cracks above. For the next 20 years the climb lingered in obscurity, it's difficult cracks awaiting an adventerous soul.

Although amusing, it is not suprising that a young Todd Skinner added his chapter to the Squeak story. In 1983, Todd was pushing the envelope of traditional climbing. Thin splitters and roof cracks fell to his crushing mitts all over the United States. Squeak was no exception. He rated the line 12b and left Washington to find more hard routes. When he returned in 1986 he made the first free ascent of City Park at Index, a 5.13d that still ranks as one of the most difficult cracks in the world. Point is, Todd was cranking and did crank for the rest of his life. His consistency in exploring new ground on the the world's cliffs and peaks will always remain a serious inspiration.

In 2009 I found my self below Squeak's crux roof. Not nearly as talanted or brave as those who traveled this ground before I quivered past ancient pins, trying to contort my body out the roof before gravity pulled me down. My on sight blown, I began to figure the moves out a bit. "12b? It seems stout." My partner was right, this thing was absurdley hard and the upside down pin stacks didn't seem to provide the feeling of security I wanted while hanging from a kneebar 300 feet off the deck. By the end of the afternoon, I was wrecked. My knee was bloody and bruised, and my arms felt like noodles. Never the less, I gave it one more go, jumping between jugs before launching into the crux boulder problem. The climbing went well, but I fell again off the last hard moves, my knee too mangled to really engage the crucial knee bar. Sailing through the air I wonder if the pin stack will handle this fall. It did, but only for a short second before calling it quits after nearly 50 years. I fell further, hit a slab and listened to the stack jingle and jangle down the slabs below. The pin pictured above remained with me, a reminder of a project left unfinished.

At the end of such an experiance I always leave with renewed respect for those who came before. There is no question that I will be back to Squeak this fall, the spirit of those who came before providing my inspiration in climbing this line.

Variety Is The Spice Of Life

2009-09-26T10:24:00.000-07:00

We all climb for different reasons. Some of us love to feel our bodies move over stone, others chase the burn of physical exertion, and a few base their passion in adventure and exploration. The wide world of climbing is an open game of possiblities; creative athleticism at its finest.

Jessica on Wildcat Crack (5.10c)

Personally, I enjoy the variety of climbing. It is not one dimensional. Being based in Washington state has allowed me to pursue a wide range of styles. I can climb granite, limestone, andesite, rhinostone, or basalt on any given day. Mountains, ice, mixed, dry tooling out caves...it doesn't matter. Wahington has it all.

Keelhauled (5.11d)

I visited two unique crags this week that reminded me how awesome and varied climbing in Washington is. On my birthday (Sep. 22) I visited Punk Rock (high in the Tumwater Canyon) with a few of my closest monkey friends. We climbed many of the routes there, finding challenge in obscure, heady lines. All of the routes at Punk Rock were established before 1980 and it shows. No bolts, no chains, no scrubmarks. I love these older areas as the routes force you to adapt to the rock, always believing in yourself. I was poignantly reminded of this 40 feet out, digging out a shady placement from a turf filled crack on the appropriatley named, "Big Balls", a 5.11 two pitch adventure route that I strung into one mega ropelength. Fun, but scary.

A few days later Jessica, River (Jessica's cute Akida pup), and I visited the andesite cliffs of the Tieton River Canyon. The Tieton features splitter, long cracks unlike any others in the state. Even Index and L-town have little to match the sustained fissures of this unique area. We warmed up on the super classic, "Wildcat Crack (5.10c)" and then moved on to "Keel Hauled (5.11d)", before finishing on "Anaphalactic Shock (5.12a)". All of these routes were absolutely awesome and totally different from the climbs of the last few months. I love granite, but climbing different stone was much appreciated...after all, variety is the spice of life.

Monkey Party!

2009-09-18T10:20:00.000-07:00

Hey monkeys...come have some fun hanging with friends and looking at shots of a few adventures Max Hasson and I have been on recently. This event is especially important as the Redmond Vertical World has always been supportive of me as a person and a climber. My life has really grown from the roots I layed down there so many years ago. Thanks again Vertical World!

The Thin Red Line V 5.12c: 2nd Free Ascent

2009-09-18T09:11:00.001-07:00

Drew & I after the successful ascent!

The air hangs still against the sheet of orange granite I cling to, only aggressive breaths and encouragements from below to question the silence. Above me hangs a hold less corner, its narrow stature forcing a balancey dance. I think only "trust your feet" before engaging the feature.

Quick reactions and creative thinking inch me upwards. I don't know exactly what I'm doing but it's working. Finally, perched on top of an oatmealy flake, leaning left precariously, my fingers find a good hold. The feet patter across the face and I mantel into the belay. When Drew follows cleanly we find ourselves in an amusing position. 600 feet up our afternoon free recon of Liberty Bell's Thin Red Line has turned into an unexpected sendathon. Until we fall our destiny is clear. For now, the sun goes down and we go up.

Swinging through the gymnastic roof of pitch six in the last moments of light I feel my arms tire. Opening my hips, my center of gravity finds its place above a high right foot, a wild perch that allows me to salvage the strength I have left and finish the pitch. Below me, a light in the darkness approaches. Up with Drew comes the chilly air of night. Adjusting headlamps and munching on snacks gives us a chance to rest. We can hardly believe we've climbed all free so far. With the 5.12 cruxes below us, I shift my focus to the dark 5.11+ leads ahead.

A few hundred feet pass quietly and efficiantly. Of course, I find my sting in the tail, a thin, difficult 5.11d lead past small gear, heads, and bomber pins. My headlamp glow jumps between the tiny features I use. At my limit, I put all trust in my aching feet. Staying adhered I clip the belay at around mid night and bring Drew up. One more ropelength seperates us from moderate ground. I pray it's easy, the strain of the night shift weighing heavy. Thankfully, the pitch is one of a few 5.10's on the route and before long I'm at M&M ledge. We are tired, but happy, psyched to have freed the route. The cold open bivy seems a small price to pay.

Of course the night is long and we shiver hard, but with the rising sun our spirits soar. The easier climbing to the summit is a splendid replacement for coffee, the views better than cream and sugar combined.

Wobbly, tired legs carry us down the descent. Climbers just beginning their days look at our crazy hair and bloodshot eyes and ask us where we've been. We mumble about an open bivy after an unexpected free ascent, but it doesn't make sense. The ride has been too wild to nail it down just yet. When we arrive back at the car, the east face of Liberty Bell towering above, I feel thankful for our adventure. The controlled precision of a difficult free ascent with alpine spices made for a most satisfying combo.

Just Another Diamond In The Sky

2009-09-13T08:04:00.000-07:00

"Where is that?", I wondered, my eyes straining to catch the small caption at the bottom of the page. "Somewhere in the Cascades," was the only hint given. Brook and his pals sure have all the fun I thought.

Almost 10 years later, I found myself looking at that same inspiring shot that had graced the cover of the Metolious catalog so many years ago. This time though, the picture contained a line, and most importantly, solid beta from Brooke Sandahl himself. Der Sportsman has slowly (it has only had 5 ascents!) become known as one of the Enchantment's best routes, featuring everything from technical stemming to off-size jamming. One year ago, Sol Werkin and myself made the second ascent of this line, a birthday on-sight my gift that day. As we walked away from the peak, I knew I would be back to this climb soon. It's just so damn fun.

Pitch 1: 5.11+

Fast foward to last week. Audrey Sniezek, an old friend from the Redmond Vertical World, asked me if I would be willing to partake in an alpine rock climb with her. Immediatly, my mind fell upon those flawless fissures of Prusik's south face. What a place to introduce someone to the beauty of traveling in the alpine and climbing high in the mountains. Audrey is an inspiring athlete with 5.13+ sport routes and competion success under her belt. Her passion for climbing is huge and her work ethic solid. Instead of a trip up the South Face or the West Ridge (both classic mid-fifth routes on Prusik), I started hyping the Sportsman. Making the fifth ascent of one of the state's most beautiful routes would surely give Audrey the ultimate experiance.

Pitch 2: 5.11 R

An after work jaunt into the high country put us in position for Prusik, the night's darkness holding back suprises to be revealed with the rising sun. The next moring we bounded through a fairytale land, our feet barely planted in reality. The cobalt blue sky, turning Larch trees, and shimmering white granite gorgeous beyond words.

Pitch 3: 5.10

Der Sportsman takes a plumb line to Prusik's summit, following a challenging set of cracks the whole way. I stemmed, liebacked, and jammed my way up the first 5.11+ pitch, feeling inspired by the quality of the climbing and the views all around. The next pitches fell away from our feet, upward movement methodical and effecient. 5.11 slab moves, mini corners, and 5.10 hand cracks defined our trip up the spine of Prusik's south face. A mid-5.11 off hands crack right before the summit blocks provided a wonderful finish.

Pitch 5: 5.10

I was proud of Audrey for pushing through the whole day. She threw herself right into the fire with courage and ambition. Nice work Audrey! We had made the fifth ascent of Der Sportsman for her first alpine rock route. Not bad! Also, leading the whole route was an awesome training exercise for me as I have a silly link-up planned in the next few weeks that finishes on Der.

Good Job Audrey!

A falling sun cast soft shadows across the Enchantments as we descended back to reality. I was glad that Audrey had experianced the alpine at it's finest. Long walks, grueling moments, beautiful granite, the peace of nature; we lived it all. Nice work Audrey!

Der Sportsman: 5.11+, 6 pitches:

Pitch 1, 5.11+:
The route's crux. An easy start leads to 5.11- thin fingers, a rest at a large knob, and then sustained stemming and liebacking past 2 bolts and a fixed nut to a two bolt anchor.

Pitch 2, 5.11 R:
Brooke gave this pitch an R rating, although it is really quite safe. Just don't fall onto the belay! Awesome face and knob climbing past two bolts leads to a bouldery mini dihedral. Belay on ledge with two bolts.

Pitch 3, 5.10:
Great hands and fingers. Gear belay at rad ledge.

Pitch 4, 5.10:
Ditto pitch 3, except for the "peekaboo tower" finish...go do the route, you will see what I mean.

Pitch 5, 5.10:
One of my favorite pitches on the route. Climb fingers in a left facing corner, pull a crux, surf over some huge knobs past a bolt, and climb a 5.9 flake system to a belay below the crux. One bolt and a yellow alien at the belay.

Pitch 6, 5.11:
Flairing off hands with knobs for your feet. Sinking hand jams and placing green aliens. Crazy stuff. Airy and classic. Finishes in a beautiful chimney.

Big Success at LMS

2009-09-13T07:52:00.000-07:00

Hey everyone, just wanted to give a big thanks to all of you who attended the slide show on September 3rd. We raised 300 bucks for our causes! We hope to continue to raise funds through this presentation, our next show being at the Redmond Vertical World on September 20th. This is an especially important event for me seeing that some of my original inspirations blossomed there. So come on out for good stories, incredible pictures, and kegs of Mack and Jack's!

Celebrate Balanced Rock

2009-08-30T16:01:00.000-07:00

In preparation for the up coming slide shows, Max and I spent the week capturing incredible images of our friends on Colchuck Balanced Rock. I was four hard days of work, but well worth it.

CBR is quickly becoming one of the finest formations on the West Coast for alpine rock climbing. Two new routes have been added to the face in the last year and a half, each already finding their place among Washington's best routes. With an absurd amount of features to still play out, it seems the Cascades has found its Incredible Hulk

On Tuesday Max and I made the second ascent of The Scoop, CBR's newest line. The quality of the route is amazing, the style used in its establishment impeccable. I led the whole route in four pitches, making an on sight ascent, Max jugging behind with extra ropes and camera gear. The Scoop features classy 5.11+ crack climbing that rivals any splitter other granite locales offer. Believe it or not, Washington lacks physical jam cracks of this sort, most stout trad routes thin and incipient.

Once our gear was on top, we threw the ropes down The Tempest, CBR's only un-freed route and most definitely a line of controversy. I won't explore the issues in this forum, but they caused a change in our game plan. Still, we made the best of the situation, Max shooting me on the route's incredible head wall pitch. Max got some great shots and I had fun on sighting a long, beautiful pitch that I had not expected to try. Rapping in late evening fire light ended a great day and we retired to the bivy for an alpine monkey party.

The next day Max and I caught some much needed rest while our good friends Blake and Sol completed a double-scoop link-up of The Tempest Wall and The Scoop. I wish every rest day was filled with that sort of sports action.

Finally, Jessica joined Max and I for a photo shoot on the wall's original classic, The West Face (5.11+). Jess and I stretched, bouldered, and napped while Max jugged The Tempest and established himself above the amazing corners that define the upper part of the route. When the light was just right, Jessica began climbing the route's famed enduro corner. Butt shots of this pitch are inspiring, let alone the pics Max got! Darkness fell and the three of us monkeyed our way up the rest of the route, stars crowning black daggers all around. A dusty descent and nice bivy ended our week.

I gotta give props to Max for all the hard work he has put into capturing these very special images. His unique combination of skills are allowing him to show a side of climbing seldom seen these days. His art is full of the spirit of climbing. Nice job dude!

L-town Slideshow: Be There Or Be Square!

2009-08-30T11:13:00.000-07:00

Beer and hot dogs starting at 6pm

Slideshow at 7pm

5 dollar minimum suggested donation

Hi there guys! Max and I are giving our first slideshow this Thursday (September 3rd) at the best shop in the East: Leavenworth Mountain Sports (thanks for hosting guys!). This is especially important for us as we are raising money for two causes that we really care about: The Tyrus Bachar Fund and the preservation of the Index Town Walls. Take care and see you soon!

Hulkafied

2009-08-21T08:21:00.000-07:00

Lucho Rivera ponders the day ahead

For years I have made it a point to check out any climb put up by Peter Croft. I have always enjoyed his routes, so when info started filtering through the climbing world of a heavenly piece of granite high in the Sierras with a plethora of Croft lines I knew I would have to visit. If Peter spent the better part of a decade infatuated with this face, then it must be-has to be the bomb diggady. It also must be stout, because it goes without saying that Croft is the real deal.

Lucho gives it 100% on the crux of Blowhard

My good friend Lucho Rivera and I hiked up to the base of the Hulk intent on trying a line called Blowhard (IV 5.12+). It was Croft's first "modern" route on the Hulk and one Lucho assured me was beyond awesome. Lucho, a stone crushing, Free-Rider obliterating, long time valley local also told me it was hard. He had pitched off the last few moves of the crux pitch last year. Known by friends as "the Cascades slogger" rather than "the Cali rock crusher" I knew I had my work cut out for me.

"The climb's centerpiece lies on the 12+ third pitch: first-digit finger jamming while palming and heel hooking the edge of the buttress." -Peter Croft

Both Lucho and I jammed, palmed, and heel hooked up this pitch over two afternoons, each taking a burn or two a day. We both kept taking a long whipper high on the pitch, the bouldery last moves made extra tough by the 20 foot run out (well for us, I bet Peter just stands on a nipple and widdles in thin nuts). No matter how kamikaze we got with the pitch it just isn't happening. At the end of day two, I let go of the project, feeling good about the progress we made. We had both climbed clean up to 12b/c on the lower hard pitches and came heart breakingly close to sending the crux, which to me, was feeling quite like 5.13 coming from sea level the day before. When you've done your best, you've done well and I felt good. I knew we might have a chance at sending the next day, but we decided to climb an easier line to the summit, just to round out my short vacation.

Lucho following on Sunspot Dihedral (V 5.11)

My last day at the Hulk Lucho graciously handed the controls over and let me lead the entire Sunspot Dihedral. At mid 5.11 it felt cruiser compared to the demanding climbing of the last few days. I jammed, bouldered and stemmed my way through smooth, improbable corner systems that just barely connected with each other. Every single pitch was alpine bliss. We rallied the ridge to the summit where I enjoyed my first real Sierra summit. The day had been wonderful and we descended into the alpenglow, happy to have been given passage through such a wonderful stretch of climbing.

Shade in the Sunspot

Because I only had three days to climb, I viewed this trip as more of a recon than anything else. Next year I will be back first for Blowhard, then the Venturi Effect (this is the ultimate line on the wall in my eyes!). A week or two in T-meadows will help set me straight for hard climbing at 10,000 feet and I will have the time to spend under these amazingly sustained routes. I can't wait to return.

Beautiful summits with good friends...what it's all about

Dreams of Kashmir 5.12b R: FFA

2009-08-09T14:40:00.000-07:00

No alpine adventures to speak of this week due to a heavy work load and a trip to the Incredible Hulk on the way (I leave L-town tomorrow!). I did however squeeze in a few nights at the crags and bouldering sessions with my brother. He had never climbed outside before (he had pulled on plastic a couple of times) and I think I may have planted a seed. He seemed to really enjoy himself and I was impressed by his quick learning curve and natural ability. So impressed in fact that I took a bunch of video of him crushing. Look forward to some of that when I return from Cali...the kid was hiking v4 his first day ever on rock for goodness sake!

In the thick of it...Dreams of Kashmir

Taking a break from the mountains allowed me to visit a favorite local cliff called Rat Creek Dome. Rat Creek is rad because you get to wade a raging river, enjoy a typical Cascade bushwhack, and climb in a secluded, beautiful zone. The experience goes beyond just grabbing the holds which is just the way I like it.

When I first visited the cliff I noticed bolted/mixed routes all over the face, but found the most appealing line to be lost in the middle of it all. Later I found out that the line I was looking at had been tr'ed in 1993, but never lead. I relished the challenge of technical moves and thin gear. Choosing to skip surrounding bolts that I could have clipped also upped the anti, but I was committed to following a natural passage up the face. Dreams of Kashmir climbs 35 feet of unprotected patina edges (don't hit the deck!) before an incipient thin crack abruptly begins. The next section climbs out a bulge and slices an 85 degree face. Thin, balancey moves define this climb. You sneeze and your off. At the crux, you must hold your composure and fire in a questionable, upside down blue alien and a small hb off set, both of which are hard to wiggle into their crazy little pods. You then climb above the questionable gear and execute a very thin (almost a slab crux) sequence. You've gotta keep your mind in it and not think about those widgets far below. I make 4 placements (I place two pieces together at a few spots) in almost 90 feet, so the route is definitely heady. Max headed out and took some nice shots so get hyped and try a repeat! See ya next week with Hulk pics!

Crux sequence on DOK

Protein hit!

Off the Couch

2009-08-06T15:21:00.000-07:00

Just wanted to keep the psyche up...

Jessica Campbell crushing the hardest v7 in the world yesterday! Nice job Jess...someday maybe I will send this one.

James Cratered, JB's Gone, and I Still Climb Cordless...What Gives?

2009-08-06T07:34:00.000-07:00

James Lucas making use of the gift of life: North Overhang (5.9), 4 years out from the fall that almost killed him

"James was climbing in joshau tree on friday (I think it was friday maybe saturday) and fell. He fell about 70 feet hit a ledge and fell another 30 to the ground. Not sure as to why he fell and or the general nature of the climb (if he was free climbing or not). He was climbing by himself. He was airlifted out of the park and to a hospital here in palm springs. He has shattered several vertebrae, his shattered bones in his left ankle, shattered his left elbow, broke his clavicle and sustained a head injury. He's alive, he has feeling/movement in his legs and sh#t. Which is good. He has several cuts and buises as well as a decent amount of swelling. He hit his head on the way down and got a concussion which caused some bleeding in the brain and a blood clot."

The moment I read these words my world forever changed. Gone was the innocence of life without limitations. I was human. I could fall. I could die. James didn't, but he could have, should have. A few weeks after the accident I visited him in a Palm Springs hospital. I was at a loss for words, my ability to think shut down by the intensity of seeing one of my best friends broken in front of me. A few mornings later, after arriving in J-tree for another winter, I sipped coffee with my monkey brethren. The air held an awkward silence. No one was moving for their shoes and chalk, each one of us dealing with the fear instilled by James' dive off the North Overhang. I toed a meaningless pattern into the sand at my feet unsure of what to do or say. When I couldn't stand it any longer I slunk off into the desert. I felt I needed to make peace with this issue. Little did I know it would be a life long process.

Old favorites...Givler's Crack (5.8) and Catapult (5.8)

Although I have climbed for a few decades, It was eight years ago that my mind was opened to the world of bold granite free climbing. I immediately felt I had found my position in the sport. Yosemite, Joshua Tree, Index, Leavenworth. The stories, the legends, the inspiration. I climbed into these iconic tales through soloing and connected with my heroes and the stone. For a few years this lifestyle flowed free of tragedy and provided me with many beautiful moments. My breathing echoing off lonely canyon walls as I shook out on a jug, the soothing cadence of a rope less morning in J-tree; the intense thrill of jamming up Yosemite's cracks without a safety net. After James fell I couldn't even manage the easiest pitches without thinking about decking. Instead of the freedom that solo climbing usually brought me, I was now a prisoner of my own fear.

La Cucaracha (5.10d)
For years I did not push myself without a rope. It was not that I didn't want to, I just couldn't. When I solo at a high level I feel confident and 100% clear in my head. No hesitation, only action. In those moments I am on it as they say, locked into a concentration that cannot be broken. Every time I laced my shoes in front of a pitch hoping to regain my feel for soloing I felt distracted and scared. Frustrated, I drifted further from rope less climbing. Maybe it wasn't worth it.

Living the monkey lifestyle...cordless on Castle Rock

The next few years saw me climbing more and more in the alpine realm. All of the sudden I started to salivate about solo climbing again. If I could regain my confidence then I could run around the world's mountains making quick, simple ascents of big lines. One morning, I found myself charging towards Dragontail Peak in the Washington's central cascades. The wheels were turning, my mind and heart locked into the solo groove. That day I on sight soloed a 2000 foot 5.8 route. It felt wonderful, but I wasn't officially back in the game. I continued to solo very little compared to my earlier days, but I had re instilled a bit of confidence.

High on Midway Direct Direct (5.9)
As time marched on, I started to want to be high above the ground, hanging from a jug, the contraction of muscle and the relaxing of mind my only saving graces. I found myself climbing alone more and it felt good. My love for solo climbing began to out weigh the fear that James' fall had instilled.

Direct Direct
John Bachar was an icon in climbing, especially the solo variety. He inspired and awed with every move he made. With the confidence of a true master he soloed climbs most couldn't dream of tr'ing clean. He started up Acopa and all of the sudden every climbing mag had ads showcasing a fit JB still on top of his game. Little did I know that his charmed career would end a few year later on a small cliff above Mammoth Lakes, California.
JB living life to the full...cordless on Spiderline (5.11c)

So that brings me to today. I dealt with James' fall and now I am dealing with JB's. I am climbing rope less on a fairly regular basis, but with a knew maturity that only age and living bring. JB's passing has affected me differently than James' fall. I am at a different point in life. I realize that soloing is dangerous. James taught me that. I also realize that we have to follow our hearts and instinct even if they put us high on a rock face without a rope. So for now, I listen to my heart each day. Some times I soar above the pines alone, the wind whipping at my hair, the mountains slicing the sky behind. Other days I pull on the hang board or go running instead and even though soloing will always be a roll of the dice, I feel confident about my decisions to live and climb the way I do.

A Couple Thangs...

2009-08-01T11:49:00.001-07:00

Hi guys, just wanted to point you towards a couple of fun links. First, check out: alpinebriefs.wordpress.com

I have a feature detailing (in only 700 words...so tough for such a big trip) our recent Alaska adventure and my friend Blake has a great write up about Gorillas in the Mist, our new route on Mt. Stuart. Kelly Cordes and Dougald McDonald do a great job with this newsletter...thanks so much guys! Also, take a look at climbing.com for some news about DOE...there are a few pics there, but we hope to share more in the coming weeks...Max still has not released the "good" shots.

Next week should be busy as I am going to bottle some wine...lot's of work! I will hopefully squeak in a few training sessions around all the work, so I might have an adventure to share, if not, check back soon for a trip report about my up coming Incredible Hulk trip. Should be a blast!

Here are a couple of shots of that Bad Ass Max Hasson killing it in AK... stay psyched everyone!...

Max on the key diorite pitch (5.9, very scary) and Max running it out on pitch 2 of the NPR

Dragons of Eden IV+ 5.12a R

2009-07-26T07:53:00.000-07:00

In 1989, Wayne Wallace and Bob McGowan spent two days working their way up a set of cracks on Dragontail Peak that were more reminiscent of the soaring splitters in Yosemite and Squamish. Although they were not able to make a completely free ascent, their effort was solid, each climbing into the hard 11 range as they surfed steep seas of lichen.

Twenty-five years later Sol Werkin and I were at the base of DOE, totally oblivious to the hole of obsession we were about to throw ourselves into. That effort produced the first alpine style ascent of DOE. Although there was a ton of lichen on route, we knew that out of all the lines we had been playing on the last few years, this was the one. The splitters, the position, the seriousness, the 2000 foot ridge to a real summit...this was the big daddy.

Since that day, both Sol and I have been mentally concious of this line as one of our driving inspirations and goals. No matter where I was over the last year or what climbs I was on, my mind inevitibly drifted towards DOE at some point each day. For me, climbing is a form of self expression and DOE represents every reason why I climb. I couldn't wait to finish the piece.

In life and in climbing I have always felt it is not what you do, but how you do it that matters. It's all about style. In an era rife with bolting debates, bolts next to cracks, and an unsetteling modernizing of our sport, DOE sticks out like a sore thumb. There are no bolts and no fixed gear besides one pin placed by Wayne and Bob long ago. The climbing is steep, sustained, and while never too difficult technically, requires a cool head and total control of the grade.

Sol and I spent July 20 and 21 climbing and cleaning the core of DOE. We spent the night of the 21st at Colchuck Lake with our amazing friends Ginnie (Sol's wife), Keri, Max, and Ryan. The ladies had prepared a feast of indian food and encouragement for us...they knew how bad we wanted this one.

A liesurley morning on the 22nd had us climbing by about 11am. We fired the first 5.10 pitch and then enjoyed the steep mid 5.11 fingers and thin hands of pitch two. This placed us at the crux, a thin bouldery face to a steep, leaning tight fingers corner. I felt strong on the pitch, but almost fell when a tiny foot chip I was standing on broke, leaving me to do a one arm on a fingerlock. Back in the crack I punched upwards, really going for it, gear not a concern. Soon I was at the belay.

Sol followed and we scrambled over some easy ground to the headwall. I pitch of 5.9, 5.11a, and 5.11c/d awaited. Normally, these grades are fairly casual for me, but I couldn't help but wonder what the climbing would be like. I had actually never tried the moves on the last pitch, opting to only scrub the previous days (my body can only handle so much!). We moved efficiently through the first few pitches and before long I was feeling my way up the absurdley steep last headwall pitch. The pitch was awesome and went very well. I had to dig deep at a few points and made tough moves quite far out from my gear. The intensity of this pitch will be tamed by repeat ascents...it needs to be cleaned more.

Pulling onto the ledge that marks the junction with the NE buttress I let out a loud monkey call...the climb of my life was in the bag. The moderate 2000 foot finish seemed to take as long as it usually does (longest route on the 'tail!) and was very enjoyable as always.

DOE is not one of the hardest climbs I've ever done, but it is the most special. It is a climb made to be, shaped by a knowing hand. The fact that it is in a beautiful mountain environment and a true alpine route combine to produce a certain hybrid. Here, Yosemite and the Cascades meet for the first time and I have a feeling they will become old freinds in the next few years as more lines like DOE pop up.

So there you have it. DOE is there, awaiting suitors. As I write this two freinds are jamming those cracks, giving the route the traffic it deserves and needs. A few years from now this line will be as smooth as the West Face of CBR or Der Sportsman if people continue to climb on it. At that point, it will no doubt be one of the most special climbs of the grade in the states. Go get some!!

Pitch line up:

Pitch 1: 5.10a/b: nice hands and liebacking, along with a bit of funk.

Pitch 2: 5.11b: Siick!! Butterballs to Gripper...fingers and thin hands, so beautiful.

Pitch 3: Short, 5.7 to the base of the crux

Pitch 4: 5.12a R: Climb up the left side of a small pillar, before placing tiny gear and launching into an amazing boulder problem. Don't fall here or you might get to know the pillar a little more than you might like. After the boulder problem punch it up a very steep, thin corner, using body scumming and stemming to avoid the pump and gobies that trying to straight in this section will produce. Gear is good, but hard to place...keep the pillar in mind.

Pitch 5: Scrambly to the base of the headwall

Pitch 6: 5.9: Once very dirty, this pitch is now very fun. Cracks, body slots...where am I, the Valley??

Pitch 7: 5.11a: Hands out a roof in a spectacular postion.

Pitch 8: 5.11c/d: Climb the flat, steep wall. Flairing jams, a midway boulder problem and a dramatic roof near the end. Fall off this one and it's all air baby...

After pitch 8 set off on the last section that will most definetely make you wonder "will it ever end???"...I sure hope not.

Note: This ascent was shot by Max Hasson. The pictures are amazing and represent a feeling to lost in climbing these days, the intensity of the real moment, not the posed down day after photos...the point is, they are going to be ready to be viewed in the next few days, but for now, words are all I have. It's something to look foward to. Cheers!

DOE...Is Free

2009-07-24T16:44:00.001-07:00

More to come on this one, but Sol Werkin and I made the ffa of the most inspiring line I have ever been involved with. The climbing clocked in at solid 5.12a. The climbing is natural, boltless, spicy, and steep. Stay tuned for a more detailed report!

Monkey Madness on the West Face of CBR

2009-07-18T21:03:00.000-07:00

The West Face of CBR one of my favorite climbs around. Quality, quality climbing all the way through...the best part of this recent ascent was that I was climbing with three of my greatest monkey bros. Besides myself, no one had done the route before, which was great, as I got to witness awesome onsights by Max and Cole. Nice work homies! Here is a little video about our day. Enjoy!

New Route on Mt. Stuart!

2009-07-08T20:23:00.000-07:00

Hey guys. Just got off an exciting climb nearer to home. Check out our trip report on cascadeclimbers.com for pics and a trip report. Also took a lap up the North Ridge of Stuart a few days earlier...I love that mountain!