Contemplating an Avalanche

I couldn’t quite explain to you what I was thinking at that very moment when I jacked my foot up by my waist and finally rocked over and grabbed the large jug sidepull indicating that the route was complete.  I guess the first thing would have been “Wow!  This never happens!!”.  My next reaction was just sheer relief, like the feeling you get after holding your breath for a really long time and then finally letting out all the air in your lungs and allowing yourself to take a nice deep fulfilling breath.  Followed by exclamations and obscenities, a little chest thumping, and then relaxation.  Like slumping into a bean bag chair after running a marathon.  I wasn’t sure of what just happened.  I was now able to completely digest the cognitive meal of success and the epiphany of completing a mentally and physically challenging puzzle.  These climbs are puzzles.  Each sequence, each hand and foot hold has a place, and when you finally realize that you do not need to force them all together they suddenly fit effortlessly into one another to create something coherent, seamless, and real.  These rock climbs, they are all immortal.  When someone climbs these routes successfully, they are giving birth to what the climb was meant to be, they are bringing into existence a vision, an idea, a work of art; they are imbuing these inanimate features with life.  After a while they take on personalities of their own, and we tell stories about them as if they were old friends, re-living the impact they had and still have on our lives, occasionally humming the tune of their harmony. 

When I came face to face with the last sequence on Black Ice I was holding my breath.  Or maybe I was hyperventilating?  I can’t be sure but I do know I was trying to move as quickly as possible.  I stabbed two fingers at the sidepull slot as if I was trying to defend myself against it, hoping to catch it in the eye and temporarily disable it so I could get away to the jugs above.  I fully expected to fall here; here on the last moves!  But I was still on.  I kept looking down at my feet as if they had the answers to a test I didn’t study for and then realized, there’s a jug in front of my face!  I picked up my left hand which felt like it weighed a ton and grabbed the jug at my head; I had to let out a yell to convince myself I did indeed want to stay on, I did indeed want to send this route.  I grabbed the flat jug, my left foot careened off the wall and tried to take me downwards with a violent barndoor, but I stayed the course using it instead as a backflag to brace myself against the wall.  I finally brought it up to my waist and perched on the slopey rail reaching blindly with my left hand around the bulge to where the good sidepull jug is, I grappled for the large hold and felt nothing.  My right hand was exploding with lactic acid, fuck!  I’m going to fall.  I let out a meager breath of exhaustion and tried a little harder.  There it is!  I grabbed the jug, rocked fully over my foot and was finally on top.  I pulled up the rope, my right hand now filled with adrenaline and clipped the chains. 

Later that evening amidst hazy memories of political arguments, fart jokes, jim beam slugs, shirtless border crossings, and incoherent bouts of maniacal laughter I eventually fell asleep on a black faux leather couch in a living room in Canada.  The morning sunshine crept into the white room I passed out in and I was awakened to the sound of someone in the adjacent and open kitchen making coffee.  Head…hurts…

SKAHA

A multi-faceted rock playground with well maintained (mostly) trails weaving their way through small canyons and up and over talus fields depositing you at the base of 60-100ft cliffs with some of the most aesthetic looking lines I’ve seen.  We climbed at three areas but visited roughly 6-7, one of which had a length of wall that ran for .5 miles, talk about a never-ending slab.  The environment mirrored that of Leavenworth with pines and dry climate and threats of rattlesnakes.  The sun was abundant, but we also got hit pretty hard by the occasional rain showers and cool weather.  My favorite areas were the Doctors’ Wall and the Belfry both home to long slightly overhanging granite sport routes that were very high in quality of movement and rock.  We passed by impressive looking crags like the Diamondback wall and the Great White Wall, both stunning to look at with aesthetic settings and this is only a handful of what the Skaha bluffs boast. 

Both the Belfry and Doctors’ wall are well equipped and have routes from 5.10 – 5.13+, the king line of the entire trip that I saw was the Replicant, a massive overhanging prow that kind of inspired a bit of Flatanger in my eyes with the same kind of granite and boulder sequences spaced well by jug rests.  I must do this line one day. 

We did very little actual climbing, I think in 2.5 days I only managed to do 8 pitches.  But I did have one of the best climbing onsight days I’ve ever had putting down two 5.12a’s and my first 5.12b onishgt in a day!  I was stoked and didn’t really feel the need to try and do more.  For a first visit it was awesome and the fact that we were able to stay in a really nice remodeled house with a hot tub a mere 4minute drive from the trail head was a luxury. 

Besides being roughly 6hours from Seattle, Skaha is a total sport climbing paradise if you are looking to project 5.13, go for onsights of 5.12’s or just have fun on the slabby 5.6-5.10 pitches, you will not be disappointed.  The rock quality is very good in some places and then downright chossy in others, but the well-traveled classics are all bomber and clean, the rock type is mostly granite and some gneiss.  It’s located in the heart of Penticton which is an odd little retirement community crested by an enormous lake.  There are restaurants, bars, and grocery stores and all the amenities of a large city. 

In short, it’s just another massive climbing destination 6 hours away from where I live which just reinforces my love for the PNW!