Home Turf

Well, it's been a while since I made a report, but my reasons are valid. I've been climbing like a maniac since I got back home! Leavenworth is currently offering a variety of climbing conditions that I can't help but sample every moment I am not working. The last 10 days it's been ice for breakfast (the ice is gone now) and rock for lunch. Check it.

Max in the morning:

Max in the afternoon:

I also made a winter solo effort on Outer Space. Even after a few successful climbs this winter, I wasn't suprised to fail...back to normal winter climbing in the Cascades! I did my best in full on conditions and that's what counts. It's always confidence inspiring to bail off an icy, snowy wall. I climbed well and got myself out safely. It was a good day. I wish I could have captured the "white ghost" spindrift avalanches that were pouring off the face (and pounding me!). They were very impressive. In the 2.5 hours I was climbing it snowed four inches. Wow!

Another fun outing was an afterwork mixed climb up Eight Mile Buttress with Max. I would guess we climbed about 1500 feet on ice and rock. The features were cool, the air warm, and the ice wet, but we still had fun. Good to practice climbing in all conditions.

And finally, but most intensley was a new route out near Banks Lake. Jessica and I have been tinkering on a beautiful bluff above the lake, cleaning suprisingly nice cracks and enjoying the great scenery. Jessica climbed an awesome crack she had been cleaning with one of the best topout views ever and I made a lead of a route I am calling Scream. It is a very nice, solid mid 5.11/11+ (grades are hard to pin down) crack and face climb. So why the abrasive name? Well, mostly because I am an idiot. I racked up at the base of the climb but forgot to bring THE KEY piece. With the right gear Scream is a very serious line, definetely in the solid R realm, but when I discovered that I had forgotten the saving piece near the top of the climb, I entered X territory. Now, I like to be scared, control my fear, and climb above my gear, but all of the sudden I was in a very serious situation, a bit too serious perhaps. To make a long story short, I screamed in primal fear as I finished the route's last pumpy moves. So if you want to make a repeat, bring TWO green camelots! I hate to make the route seem like something it is not. It does require a certain boldness, but is certainly managable by those who enjoy heady climbing, just make sure you've got what you need.

The climb:

The self portrait on top (funny face, but I was traumatized!):

And the beautiful sunset that calmed me down:

Thanks for checking in!

Nice Day For A White Wedding

Alright, climbing geeks...sorry to disappoint, but this post has nothing to do with the Smith Rock test piece (White Wedding, 13d/14a). My sister got married this past Saturday, an event that was powerfully punctuated by snow, thunder, and lightning. I had been looking forward to the wedding for a long time and it was every bit as wonderful as I imagined it would be.

I showed up at the rehearsal fresh off the plane, bags in hand, Thursday night. I was looking, well, homeless to be honest. Hair all over the place, a beard, and after a day on the plane, I probably wasn't smelling like flowers either. They let me in the church anyway once I convinced them I actually had a part in this (j/k...as always, I was welcomed with open arms). The rehearsal went well and by the next day I was involved in my own extreme makeover.

Saturday saw me looking unusually sharp, so I snapped a few pics, just to prove I actually can clean up. The picture above is of my self, my dad, and my brother. Looking decent, huh?

The ceremony was short, concise, and enjoyable. I gotta admit, I was busting every button. My little sister a married woman...hard to believe, but not at all suprising...it seems like yesterday that we built forts, slept under the Christmas tree, and followed our dad through the Cascades on those early wilderness trips.

After the ceramony we all left for the reception, which was an absolute blast. Great people, lots of energy, food, wine, beer...in short, very fun. We enjoyed each other's company, danced, laughed, and celebrated Andy and Annika's new life together.

One highlight of my night was seeing my sister's ring for the first time. It was gorgeous, the stone originally my grandmother's, then my mother's, now Annika's. Very special.

What a great evening. I sincerely wish nothing but joy and happiness for Annika and Andy. You guys are special as individuals...with each other, unstoppable. Enjoy your life together guys!

Home Sweet Home

Well, here I am, back in the NW. My trip south was plagued by weather, but it was nice to be on the rock after an extended break to focus on ice and winter climbing. I feel like I have regained a good bit of my rock fitness and am psyched for dry stone and warm spring sunshine. In the meantime, winter still has a few weeks. If the weather allows I hope to try a winter project or two. Stay tuned.

A few pics from the trip:

Zach, twisting those hips in the Calico Hills.

Train in vain? I think not. Mr. Schmid throwing a lap on the woody.

Zach and Kieth enjoying a nice sunset after a day of mining.

Zach on top of the Black Velvet Wall. Everything looks a little blurry at the end of a big day!

This last photo is actually not from my trip, but I have wanted to post it for some time. Jessica doing a little dance mid climb, reminding us of the fun and freedom that climbing can bring.

Thanks for having a look!

A Matter of Perspective

The echo of my breathing bounces off this cracked, golden plane. The fissure forces my movement, but I curve my hips and torque my jams so gravity won't get me. A ring lock and then a solid thin hand let me reach for a lonely edge. I set the left toe jam, flag hard with my right leg, and come face to face with a hand jam. A quick karate chop puts my hand in the saving slot, but something goes wrong. The usual contraction of muscle that allows a jam to work never initiates and in a timeless moment, I painfully watch my hand, and my hopes of completing this line, slip away.

Spinning at the end of the rope, I feel a sort of nothingness. No anger, no happiness, no excitement. The tall, red walls around me seem unmoved by my effort. I gave it all I had, but today my best needed to be better.

On the ground I pack my gear and watch the tie dye sky . It's so peaceful now, here, in this moment. In this temple I find a sort of clarity. The finishing of a project brings joy, but failure can bring fiery pain. I feel neither and I know why. I am still in the middle of this climb, even though I am not tethered to its walls. I have not failed, but rather, have made another step towards success. This journey may take longer than others, but such is the nature of climbing and life. A content smile cracks my face. I shoulder my pack, take one last look around, and step into the darkening desert.

Going Big, Having Fun

Zach and I have spent the last few days enjoying the fruits of the recent warmer weather. A significant amount of snow has melted off the larger formations and many awesome lines are coming into condition. On Friday we climbed the RR classic Ixtlan, a nice 600 foot line up a varnished buttress at the mouth of Black Velvet Canyon. Ixtlan is known for its variety of movement and we enoyed everything it threw our way from techy face climbing to gut wrenching off widthing. It was also a good opportunity to scope some of the other options in the canyon and by the end of the day I knew what I was psyched for. 

The Black Velvet Wall is certainly one of RR's proudest, large formations. The well known classic Epinepherine resides there as well as a host of other more obscure, but excellant climbs. One such route is Texas Hold 'Em, a 1000 foot 5.11c that climbs half of the formation on a steep, varnished face. It is a direct, no nonsense line that to me, has a major asthetic appeal. At the end of TH'E, one can either rappel or join the old school classic Lonestar, a seldom done 5.11 that the guidebook labels "a major undertaking", and follow it another 1000 feet to the top of the formation. After talking with a few of Zach's freinds, we found out the link may not have ever been done. They also made sure we knew that we were biting off a big chunk. I couldn't help but be drawn by this major line of weakness through unlikely terrain on a major face and that evening we were throwing gear together for an attempt the next day. 

The following morning sees us firing up the initial pitches. They are moderate, but sandy. The low angle movement is a good warm up for the steep varnished wall above. As we go higher the rock becomes bullet proof. It seems to offer just enough features to make wild sequences possible. The overabundance of holds usually experianced at RR's is not found here. These pitches have a pure, asthetic appeal and the climbing is superb. Steep cracks, flares, boulder problems, and slab sequences carry us through the technical cruxes. We climb one pitch up Lone Star where we take a small break to look at the topo and eat a bar. The topo shows eight more pitches to the top. I know the light will go soon, but we've got head lamps and we're sure of our abilities on this terrain. We punch up a large dihedral. I try to be methodical and precise rather than hurried. Belay exchanges are a snap of the fingers. I finish leading a wet 5.10 pitch, sling a scrub oak and bring Zach up and over. He moves through the belay without grabbing any gear, and quickly runs out 70 feet of 5.6 around a corner to a belay. I click on my headlamp, try to ignore a windy rain that is falling, and follow in the dark. After crossing the arete I look up at the final pitch, a boltless, 20o foot 5.9 R slab. I can't see much in the dark, but the stone is clearly wet, the streaks glistnining in the light of my headlamp. Facing this pitch in these conditions has been a fear of mine all day. Sure enough, here I am wih nothing to do but take us to the top. I don't waste much time before starting the pitch. Over about 45 minutes I stretch the rope out over the featured face, finding itermitent gear. Even the lights of a major metropolis at my back can not tame the intensity. I feel as out there as ever in those moments. 

All in all, the Texas Hold 'Em/Lone Star link up provided just what I was looking for. A long adventerous route that required a belief in our selves and a desire to succeed. There are plenty of these lines in Red Rocks and I hope to climb many of them in the future. 

You Don't Always Get What You Want

Lucho stares blankly into the computer screen. NOAA's crystal weather ball has given a piercing, painful vision. Black skies, snow, 10 more days of foul weather...but how could it be? A few days earlier we crammed fingers into greasy locks on the Nabisco Wall, stood on El Cap's glassy smears, and grunted up a few of those pure Yosemite slots. 

Yosemite in winter felt more like spring, but day four blew us out. Windy, angry weather spit all forms of precipitation and we left to gather ourselves and some more equipment for the longer routes we hoped to try. One rest day turned to into a few to many, but our commitment to climbing in Yosemite remained steadfast.

Now, sitting here in San Francisco, Lucho and I have a call to make. Watch rain fall on the pavement, imagining the Valley getting pounded with snow, or head for dry rock. It finally seems like a no brainer-Vegas, here we come. 

Since Zion is getting pounded with weather also, Lucho and I head for Red Rocks hoping to sample some of the fine, long free climbs the canyons offer. An hour into the drive I call Zach, a good friend living in Vegas. He knows the routes I'm after and I don't like what I sense in his voice. He claims snow, and a quite a bit of it at that, has all long routes out of the question. When we arrive his report is clearly confirmed and we adjust plans again.

With no multi pitch options available we focus on the numerous short, classic free climbs of Nevada's deserts. Before long, tiger striped limestone and roof cracks of the most wild sort have our inspiration burning and minds scheming. For now we are stacking up the projects, eeking out a few sends, and, although you don't always get what you want, climbing on some very beautiful rock. 

El Cap Recap

The following is a trip report from a May 2008 ascent of the Salathe:

The pink shadows of a rising sun creep down the granite fortresses that surround us. Morning in Yosemite Valley is so powerful. I jump from the car in front of Lower Cathedral and gorge myself on a view that has escaped my eyes for too long. El Cap roars from the meadows, a colossal wave of tiger striped gold. The feelings that surge through me are different, yet no less potent than those I felt six years earlier when I caught my first glimpse. One reaction remains the same and I feel it to my toes; it is very big and I am very small.

Kj, Paul, and myself are at the base of the Salathe before we know it. Although I haven't climbed a pitch of Yosemite granite for a few years, we are committed to beginning our climb that very day. Kj and Paul have never sailed these seas before and we are hungry for success. We climb the Freeblast that first day, our second climb ever together, and try to adjust our minds and bodies to what lies ahead. I enjoy the climbing, knowing that after today we will face the reality of crushing loads and a huge rack. We rap from Mammoth Terraces in the bright afternoon sun and start the crux which is existing in the Valley.

That night I lie awake, anxious about the day ahead. I am the only one of our team who has climbed El Cap. In fact, I've climbed a fair amount of walls in Yosemite, but never in such a heavy style. I came into wall climbing during the glory days of speed climbing. I can climb quickly, short fix, and tie a clove hitch. These are the very basic skills that have granted me passage in the past, but this will be different. I try to remember my systems from the few times I have hauled a bag. It's not that complicated, but yet, I know we will struggle.

The next day is spent gathering what we need for the wall. Food, ropes, water, rack, clothes, sleeping gear...it doesn't sound like much, but it all adds up. Late that afternoon we struggle to the base and begin to jumar frazzled fixed lines. Hauling the first ropelength is a typical nightmare of tangles and clusters. I try to stay psyched. I know this is a crux. Full loads hauled on a slab. It is the definition of pain.

We finally pull the pigs onto Heart Ledge and settle into a nice bivy, definetely the most comfortable of the route for us (we had no ledge and were forced to sleep in less than ideal spots due to crowding on the route). Our spirits rise with the elevation gained. I am so glad to be done with that portion of our adventure.

A stunning sun rise, a cup of coffee and we are off and running, er, well, shuffling. The first day is especially difficult for me. I try to lead quickly and haul like the Incredible Hulk so we can make our goal of El Cap Tower. I make a rookie mistake, forgetting to eat and hydrate like I should. I feel downright sick most of the day and am very relieved when we reach the Alcove as darkness falls. Another party occupys the classic ledge one pitch above, but they can have it. I'm fried. No matter what, El Cap will have it's way with you at some point or the other if you choose to throw yourself in its granite pan.

Clouds swirl about in the morning. The change of weather is a bit suprising really, but we pack our things and start the day. It doesn't take long for the sun to push it's way to the front of the sky and Kj and I soak in rays while Paul leads the second pitch of the day. We make good time to the block, actually catching up to the party in front of us. We decide to bivy at the block, but not after I use our ropes to fix a few pitches. Those four hundred feet of climbing are some of the best on the route for me. I feel the freedom of not having to haul the bags and surge up the enduro corner, free climbing quite a ways up the 5.11 pitch in my approach shoes. Hand jams in golden granite 2000 feet off the deck has me writhing in pleasure.

After an uncomfortable bivy, we set off to finish the climb. Before long I am fixing the ropes after leading the headwall. Long Ledge is quite crowded, and I am forced to construct an akward, but solid anchor. I notice the lines lay over the edge of the ledge, but conciously recognize how smooth the granite is at that point. The boys start jugging as I catch my breath. A few minutes later I take a look at the free line that Kj is jugging and notice a definete core shot that has developed. Holy crap! I recognize that the core is still intact. I know the rope is fine, that it will not break, but that doesn't stop me from exceeding my own strength and holding the rope off the ledge while Kj finishes ascending.

After taping the line, we settle into a long rest period. Long Ledge is a most spectacular hang and we soak it up, snacking and enjoying our incredible position. For the first time I concede mentally that we will make the top. We sure as hell aren't going down from here! This confidence doesn't ease the pain I feel in the off widths that gaurd the top, but we summit in time to watch the sun set. We revel in what we have accomplished as a team. I am truly proud of our effort. Although we all had definite strengths and weaknesses, the sum of our abilities was enough. I feel an especially overwhelming sense of gratitude seeing Kj on top. I knew how much he wanted this summit.

Personally, I gave my all on this wall. The hauling killed me. I am not a big guy, so hauling added a whole dimension of physical exertion that threatened to take hold of not only my muscles, but my brain. Although we did not over pack, I have never taken such a load up the Captain. No matter how you cut it, a team of three climbing for many days in the vertical environment will assure a full load. I'd like to say I'll never climb El Cap in this style again, but when you add up the laughs, triumphs, and disasters of an ascent of this sort, you realize that it was absolutely worth it...and that before long you'll be breaking your back again on the steely walls of El Capitan.