Shouting Out an Open Window Between Two Worlds

Let us begin.

 

It's quite easy to lose ALL of your finger strength when you go to the Red, if you're not careful that is. 

My two week trip to the Red River Gorge was amazing.  Returning from a trip like that to the usual hum drum of everyday life as a desk-jockey was incredibly difficult.  But I settled back into a routine fairly quickly.  My only regret from the trip was not taking more pictures to highlight exactly what we spent our time doing, but you can already guess we did a lot of climbing.  Out of the thirteen days we were there, we climbed ten of those days.  I was surprised after the first day at how well I felt on the steep jug hauls and the massive sea of holds that spread out before me on every single climb I got on.  I managed to flash and onsight three routes 5.11c – 5.12a on my first day and it was a good indicator to me that this might be a totally different trip from the last season.  And it was. 

 

Justin on the bouldery start to Banana Hammock (5.12a)

 

Justin starting up the 100ft face of Banana Hammock (5.12a), first day in the gorge.

 

 

The focus of the trip shifted from hard redpoints to enjoyable onsight climbing.  We literally would just have days where we would go to a crag with several 3-5 star lines in the 5.12a-5.12c range and just try to onsight as many as we could.  My training matched up perfectly for this endeavor and I ended up breaking a lot of mental barriers I had around onsight climbing during this trip.  Plus I managed to snag a quick ascent of Spank (5.13a) the only semi-difficult route I tried (the other being 40oz of Justice and let’s just say, I’ll need a little more time for that one). 

Me onsighting Witness the Citrus (5.11c), quite possibly the most fun rock climb I've ever done. 

 

Another major difference from my first time at the Red was that this trip we rented a cabin to stay in.  It was fantastic and the first couple of days I was just psyched to have a beautiful place to come home to at the end of the climbing day (plus a hot tub, shower, kitchen, bed, and flat screen).  We ended up sampling three of the other cabins they had to offer because the initial cabin they put us up in had a minor wasp infestation.  But we kept our heads up and let them move us around from one five star cabin to the next.  As long as it had a hot tub (and no wasps) we were good to go. 

The savior of our evenings, introducing the Kentucky Hot Tub.

 

Our first cabin.  Affectionately referred to as 'The Hive'.

 

The manket (mank blanket) sitting in the valley.

 

Cooking breakfast and getting ready for a day of climbing.

 

Trees outside of our fourth and final cabin. 

 

During this trip I kind of fell in love with the Red.  Or maybe I fell in love with not having to work every day; and instead being able to take my time in the mornings, go climb beautiful things, and just savor the feeling of being truly happy and putting time into something that I love and that makes me feel alive. 

Justin coming down from a stout one hang of The Madness (5.13c)

 

I came to the RRG with two minor (yet nagging) finger injuries and when I left they were both healed completely.  Sometimes endless jug swimming can be perfect rehab for tweaky fingers.  I think what I’m most psyched about was near the end of the trip I fell into a good groove.  I started to learn how to read the rock better, how to rest, how to anticipate cruxes and how to paddle through the easy yet sustained parts.  I didn’t put up any impressive numbers but I broke through a major mental barrier and got to sample a ton of classic moderates and onsight most of them.  You never feel as if you have enough time at the Red (unless you’re European), and it was no different this time around.  There is simply too much to do and it’s almost all fantastic.  Trips like these highlight an important conundrum for me, which I think every climber must face and that is: do you go for volume?  Or, work a handful of routes to death and try to come away with some hard sends??  I still don’t know the answer to this one. 

View from the deck at 'The Majestic', the second cabin we stayed at.

 

What I do know is that when I returned from the Red I was exhausted, physically and mentally.  And I was NOT psyched to be back on the work grind.  To make matters worse there was nothing but rain in the forecast.  This made Little si a very un-attractive date, so I drove down to Smith Rocks instead. 

Climbers making the journey back over Asterisk pass after a long day of climbing.

 

I knew steep jugs were a perfect lead up to crimpy slab climbs so of course I thought I would have the best Smith Trip of my life.  Ha!  WRONG, obviously.  We escaped the threat of rain and pulled into the Smith parking lot to sun and warmth!  Psyched!  Until I realized that I was quite inept to tackle this style of climbing.  Where had my endurance gone??  Sheesh!  It was like learning how to climb all over again.  Where were the endless jug rails and feet galore??  Where was the bad technique and endless resting spots?  UGH.  You mean I actually have to have good footwork?  You mean I actually have to pay attention to the holds I’m putting my feet on?  You’re telling me I have to learn ‘sequences’?? Why are there so many crimps on this route!!!?? YUK! 

The first day at Smith was rough, to say the least.  I actually felt really good on the warm up and then tried some obscure 5.12b and completely failed, hang dogging at the first sequence and then eventually ripping a hold off the wall.  TAKE!  LOWER!!  I was not psyched.  I spent the remainder of Saturday running laps on Cool Ranch flavor with a side bar stint on Churning to remember the beta.  Defeated and deflated we headed to home base (Steven’s new house!) and settled our emotions over beer and conversation.

Gus attempting the iconic arête test piece Chain Reaction (5.12c)

 

Sunday started out a bit shaky as well with a warm up in the rain and then a blown flash attempt on Flat Earth.  Another somewhat obscure little contrivance next to Heinous Cling, which if you were to look at one and then the other you would surely think someone got drunk again and decided they needed to waste a few bolts in order to sober up.  But don’t get me wrong, Flat Earth is worth a visit but maybe only one.  I was glad to send second try, although a bit shakily and almost coming off at a large over the head cross over move.  It was nice to have something gin the bank even though I wouldn’t have brought this route home to momma.  I wanted to try something beautiful and fun and somewhat challenging and everyone had suggested a route named Vision.  A stunning little arête that beckoned to be climbed.  I had never tried it nor had I ever seen anyone on it so here it was, a chance to nab my first Smith 5.12 onsight.  I was having a crummy trip already so I didn’t have any expectation that the outcome of this endeavor would be any different.  I just climbed and told myself that this time I was going to hang on until the route decided to spit me off and not the other way around. 

My first 'Smith' 5.12 onsight, and what a route to have it on!  Vision (5.12b) is one of the best routes in the park and came highly recommended by nearly everyone I spoke to that day.  Needless to say I was pretty psyched.

And it worked!  I felt pretty goddamned dialed on the entire route.  There was never a moment where I hesitated or felt scared, I just kind of used my frustration to empty my mind and hang on.  I also realized that to climb well at Smith you really only need to do two things: 1) Have strong fingers, for sure.  2) TRUST YOUR FEET!!.  The big difference on Vision, and ultimately what lead to me clipping the chains on the onsight, was that I just made up my mind to trust my feet no matter how shitty or rubber stained they were.  Lowering down I was as happy as a pig in the mud with a bowl of soggy cheerios.  Nobody ever wants to get smacked down on a route, or humbled by an entire crag but it makes the victories taste so much more sweet.

Driving five hours to escape the rain and pulling up to this was complete validation.

 

Afterwards we had little time left and we kind of milled about morning glory wall trying to decide what to end the trip on.  Our decision was made for us when every single line was suddenly taken and I suggested we try this route called Time for Power, a majestic and mega looking line that you can see from the trail.  It starts on a crumbly 5.10a jug haul that terminates immediately at some of the most bomb-proof red rock I have ever climbed on.  The red rock portion is a heinous slab with some of the most hateful  hand holds I personally have ever had to use.  I’ve used better FOOT holds on 5.12c before.  I managed to onsight the slab which I was EXTREMELY pleased with but it was definitely sketchy and scary.  I got a good no hands shake at the top of the slab and then the angle starts to kick back and the climb goes from heinous slab to overhanging monkey climbing.  I pulled a few moves into the overhanging headwall and latched a big jug rail.  At this point I thought surely the cruxes were over and I would just have to do some resistance climbing on big holds to the top.  No problem!  Well, except for one thing.  The last crux.  I shook out for what seemed like ages on this jug rail going back and forth and trying to figure out beta for the next section of the climb.  There were obvious holds but they were so scattered it was like putting a puzzle back together after someone had used dynamite to disassemble it.  I felt like a tiger in the zoo pacing ominously back and forth trying to reach into the depths of my mind to figure out a gory escape from my man-made prison.  I finally gave one last shake, decided on a plan, and went for it.  Holy fuck, it’s working!!  I was almost there, almost had my first 5.12c onsight in the bag!!  I made a big move out to a left hand gaston crimp.  Staggered my feet up to the jug rail and reached slowly out to what I was banking on to be a good pinch.  I grabbed the pinch statically and the first thing that ran down my spine was shock and terror.  The pinch that was supposed to signal the end of this crux was god awful. Slopey and greasy I panicked.  My eyes darted all over the chalkboard for the answer.  I spotted a small incut crimp above and moved my right hand to snag it before I could…barn…door…and I’m off.  Fuck me.  One more move and I would have been in a monster pocket jug.  I pulled through the crux and did some extremely fun hero jug pulling to the top.  What a climb.  What a fucking great climb!  I was disappointed not to get it on the first go, especially since I have to do that horrendous slab again, but I can’t be disappointed to end the trip on such an epic rig. 

God bless you Smith.