No Skin Left

Powder Daze Part 1 and 2

2011-12-03T20:47:00.000-08:00

Snow has come to Sitka, and like so many children flocking to the brightly lit windows of a Christmas display the hardcore snowboarders emerge. The die hard, the grizzled, the desperate! In small towns there are always old timers. The guys who have been there since the beginning, since before there were stop lights, since before there were snowboards, since before there was snow, since before there were even ole timers. When snow comes to Sitka this early in the year, the ole timers like to sit back and say “I haven’t seen a snow storm this bad since the time Big Jon was knee high to a grasshopper.”, and that my friends is a long time ago. The snow forces us all to exist on a slower, more pensive plane of existence. It can literally, as well as figuratively freeze you in your tracks. Whether you are actually frozen there because of the temperature; or because you are lost in a trance, meditating, day dreaming. For some reason the snow has an insular effect on me. I start to ponder the ways in which all of that pow collecting on top of Mt. Verstovia a.k.a The Stove, could be shredded by my righteous inclinations of gnar.

Each weekend the snow just kept building it’s strength. Until finally the perfect storm culminated in a most excellent base layer of sea sweetened powder. The Stove was ripe. It was practically begging us to climb its newly powdered bosom and dive deep inside to explore its delicious womb coated in the post-coital ejaculate the last dark and stormy lover had left inside of her. Like any worthy and seductive rainy day woman, The Stove is no easy mistress. With our packs filled with the tools needed to abstract a good time from the day, we slowly began the climb. Three hours later we were standing near our destination. At tree line we ran into a few acquaintances from the previous day’s SAR field exercise, which eventually turned into a real mission.

While we were psyched to get to the top before anyone else, running into a few people at this juncture was actually a little bit of a relief. It was nice to have a pre-broken trail for the majority of the hike but now it was our turn and as I sank 4 feet into the fresh butter that lay in front of us I felt the icy fingers of The Stove creep up and down my spine, tickling dirty thoughts into sight, and coaxing my snowner from its hiding place. We finally came to rest at the base of Picnic Rock, where subsequently a dense soupy mess of clouds rolled in accompanied by a dirty and unrelenting wind. That pretty much ruled out the glorious lines of the bowl, so for our first time up The Stove we ended up sticking to the front side where we re-learned how to trace the life lines of our lover’s palms. We hit the north ridge but were turned away by the harsh winds and deep powder that threatened to bury you if hesitation began to take over. Our friends had made a nice little snow cave to hang out in and paved the way to a sweet little jump. After taking the plunge a few times we had lunch and buried our good intentions in a few short runs in perfect powder on a nice little slope that ended at tree line.

We stashed the boards since we knew we would be back soon and skipped down the unfolded legs of our newly acquired mistress. As first days go, this one knocked a lot of them down a peg. The standard was now set, and I felt spoiled.

Powder Daze Part 2

A few days passed. Thanksgiving came and went like an annoyingly enjoyable lush who shovels all of the right words down your throat in the wrong order. The food sickness eventually passed, and now that my stomach had survived being stretched four times its maximum capacity, and my brain had recovered from the horrifically boring tale of Edward, Jacob, and whatever the hell that useless anorexic bitches name is; we were finally able to make it back to the loving embrace of The Stove. Her embers were stoked white hot by the revolving door of low pressure lovers that seemed to visit just as frequently as food filled forks had visited my mouth lately.

Our trio (Dana, Steph, and I) had grown by one; we were accompanied on this trip up by Dana’s ridiculously hardcore dad Steve. He jimmy-rigged his snowboard onto his old school pack and stomped up the trail with the rest of us. We made slightly better time but came to a snail’s pace once we hit the last ridge which was a stew of snowy quicksand. Luckily we had run into a gang of youngsters who had the same snowy-eyed visions of pow pow that we had, and we took turns letting them break trail for us.

We snagged our boards from the stash spot and managed to break trail all the way to the top this time. The weather was a lot more agreeable than last weekend when we had come up, but the bowl was still clouded in. No matter, we had endless lines of uncut powder to inhale, and on that note, I have to say that the first run of the day for me was nothing but sweet salty powder! Eight foot rooster tails. We glided over the ten foot base like surfers. I hit a carve so long I put two fingers down in the fast passing cream just to keep my balance. One of the coolest lines I hit was this sweet run that started on a steep drop in that led immediately to catching a small amount of air off a hip, and then a smooth ride led to a kicker between the trees, then a delicious slope to the end. Once we had stomped out a trail back up to the drop in spot at Picnic Rock the lines became more defined and we were joined throughout the day by three more snowboarders who all got a piece of the action.

It was a glorious day to say the least. At the very end of the last run of the day I bit it hard and ended up turning my knee in ways it is not meant to turn. Nothing major, just a sprain, but it did keep me off the slopes the next day, which is really a little heartbreaking considering the current state of the weather today. The Stove must have had her fill of little lovers because this week the warmth has moved back in and the town looks as bare as it did when I arrived in the summer.

The Flux Capacitor

2011-11-06T17:00:00.000-08:00

A couple of sunny days here is all that it takes to remind you of how endlessly beautiful this place can be.

Steph and I have now been living in our new little cottage by the sea for the last month. October came and went like the leaves on the alders and maple trees. I have been busy at work as a para-educator, filling in at the local Highschool, middle school, and elementary school. I even applied for a job as a para-professional at the elementary school and will find out if I got it (after an intense interview by the school board) on Monday, so wish me luck.

I have really enjoyed my new life here in Alaska, but it does leave me pining away for the basalt, granite, and rhino rock of Washington. Hell, I even find myself day dreaming about pulling plastic :) The weather here has turned very rainy, and while we did get a stretch of beautiful weather last week, it looks as if there will be no more tales from the Whale Wall, at least until the Spring, maybe. I was pretty psyched about the possibility of bolting this wall, and it still may happen, but for now, I turn my prospects to other endeavors.

Steph and I have been volunteering at the local Search and Rescue chapter here, and in January the free EMT class starts that we have both signed up for and have been eagerly awaiting.
Even though there is really no climbing up here, or even a decent climbing gym (there is a dead vertical 30 foot wall at the community center that I work out at, but its really not made for training, if you get my drift) I still try to stay in shape. I have been purchasing monthly passes to the community fitness center here which has a lot of really new equipment, a basketball court (damn you basketball!!) and later this month they will start to install something that I am very excited about, a bouldering wall! I've asked to be on the planning committee for the wall and met the person who is spearheading the project and it seems like it will be a pretty sweet little addition to the gym. They received a grant for developing the center and have something like $1,500 to play with. For now it sounds like the most expensive part will be purchasing the lumber, and I would love it if anyone out there reading this has a good lead on cheap holds. New or used.

So, besides the new bouldering wall that has yet to materialize, the only real climbing I have to look forward to will be on my return trip to Washington this December for Christmas. I'll be arriving Christmas eve, and staying for two weeks! I'm so stoked to hang out at Stone Gardens and check out the SBP which I have never been to. Plus, I can't wait to break in my new snow board at the resorts. The back country here is starting to expose itself, but so far the only option is Bear mountain which is a pretty involved day, and Steph and I just haven't had the time. However, Verstovia is starting to accumulate some nice base layers so hopefully I will have some sweet backcountry reports in the near future. For now, I have been rediscovering my hiking bug and making the trek up to Picnic rock several times last week after work. The sunsets have been spectacular, the views have been bewildering, and I have yet to come face to face with a wild bear (fingers crossed).

The atmosphere in this town is very different than a lot of places I have lived. The people here like to shoot things and eat them. I'm no vegetarian, and I certainly enjoy plunging my dull omnivorous teeth into a nicely cooked hunk of venison, but it is odd to be surrounded by so many guns sometimes. I went to the range the other day with Steph and our friend Adam who is a straight up gun connoisseur/enthusiast. It was a blast (did everyone get that pun?)! I got to shoot a 9mm glock (very fun), and an AR (even funner!), as well as Steph's new rifle, a sweet 23. We were actually trying to site her new scope so we could engage in the rampant killing that takes place here ourselves but something jut wasn't panning out. On a trip to Orien's, a sporting good store here in Sitka, where our friend Adam works and was kind enough to site her rifle for her for free, a father and his two daughters walked into the store. The two little girls couldn't have been more than 10 and 8 respectively and the father was asking for deer tags for the pair of them. The guy behind the counter grinned and turning to the two little wide eyed girls, probably with a combined weight of 90lbs, said "Are you guys gonna kill Bambi?". That made me laugh.

But that's just what I'm getting at here, the culture is just different. Little girls here play with barbies, and wear pink; and at the same time they know how to work a single shot bolt action 22 to push Bambi's wig back and bring back a few pounds of venison for the parents. It's a culture of hunters and gatherers. People collect berries and shrooms in the summer, and hunt deer/ducks in the Fall and Winter. Do they need to to do this to survive? I guess not, I mean, there's a completely functioning grocery store here, in fact there's two of them. I guess the argument is that we live on an island and anytime you can cut down on spending money on food that's brought here by barge, ferry, or plane you kind off feel good about yourself.

I have had more than a handful of meals here that were completely homegrown. Meaning the bulk of the meal was either caught here, grown here, or harvested here by the people who made the meal. I think my favorite has been either deep fried duck tenderloin, or golden chanterelle pizza.

Well, I was going to plunge into some weird philosophical rant about misconceptions, guns, and hunting, but maybe in a later post. I'm more prone to keep talking about what's on my mind and what the future looks like.
One of my favorite things to think about lately is where we will be moving next. At first it was going to be somewhere far away and semi-exotic, but instead, after a climbing drought such as the one I'm experiencing, we have talked about moving to Bishop, California. If all goes according to plan we would leave Sitka late August/early September and make our way down to the bouldering mecca. Stopping of course in Squamish, Leavenworth, Smith, etc. etc. on our way down, only to arrive at the beginning of the season in mid October. I really have no words for how psyched I would be to live in Bishop for a year. To have those boulders at my fingertips year round, not to mention all of the other amazing climbing destinations a mere car ride away, is kind of mind blowing to conceptualize. On the other hand, it's not as easy as all of that. There are jobs to consider, living accommodations, and planning how this could contribute to the next step in our lives. But for now, I love to think about waking up every morning to a blue bird sky and couple thousand boulder problems on perfect rock.

Meet Old Greg

2011-11-06T11:32:00.000-08:00

So, every Halloween in Sitka there is a huge event called the Stardust Ball. People go nuts over this party. There is a lip sinking contest, a best costume contest, and always a live band; this year it was the Gourds from Houston Texas. We had to be in line at hte bookstore where they were selling the tickets 30 minutes before the place even opened and we still weren't first in line. And it aint cheap either. All in all, it was a great time. Lots of dancing, drinking, and quoting Old Greg

I painted myself black and went as a demon from hell, and Steph went as a zombie ballerina.

Our friends Jon and Dana went as Old Greg and a signal flare.

Mushroom Hunting

2011-11-05T12:17:00.000-07:00

The fall is starting to rear its adolescent head. The mood of the weather is angsty and cold, and we recieve the silent treatment from it for days at a time. Still, as the snow line creeps ever lower, along with the temperature, the weather, for the most part, has still been mild. We took advantage of some of the sunny weekend days to get out and hunt for mushrooms. The ever-coveted golden chanterelle's were high on our hit list, and being the novice mycologists that we are, experimenting was the name of the game.
Bear mountain is a beast of a mountain and it's rocky tendrils spread out in all directions creating several low angle ridges. Its forested fingers, dense, moist, dark, are perfect habitats for several species of edible mushrooms, so Steph and I decided to try there first. We had to walk along a forest service road that skirts the perimeter of the mountain for an hour before we finally headed up into the woods. The sun filtered through the trees on a beautiful Sunday afternoon and we jumped over creeks and fallen nurse logs looking for a mushroom line. As we made our way up over some of the sleepy ridges we saw clumps of Winter Chantrelles and other species of non-edibles and knew we had found a good spot. As we crept up the ridge line near a gushing creek bright orange/yellow patches could be seen peeking their heads sheepishly out of dark caves created by the massively tangled root systems of giant spruces and hemlocks. Like tiny little mushroom farms dispersed sporadically throughout the forest we hopped from miniature cave to miniature cave collecting our golden bounty.

Delicious gold!

Our second time to our 'secret spot' we came away with nearly 3 pounds of goldens.

We also collected some winters and a few hedgehogs.

So far we have used them in spaghetti sauces, on top of pizza's, in salads, and eaten them by themselves with some butter and garlic.
The mushie season is pretty much over. We received our first freeze of the year but today is a nice mixture of clouds and sun, so we may head out to gather some more spongy gold.

Bouldering, in Sitka?

2011-10-17T12:38:00.000-07:00

Okay, maybe I lied. Bouldering assumes that there may be more than one boulder problem, and in this case, there MAY be, but I only cleaned one problem, and it aint that great.

I saw this giant boulder laying just off the road a month ago and checked it out only to find treacherous landings and brittle rock. The one problem that I cleaned and climbed has a flat landing which is actually the top of another boulder. The problem itself is only about half the boulder, the other half lies underneath a landslide of rocks and dirt. After brushing and prying off loose holds it actually cleaned up somewhat nicely, and climbs a line of incuts to a good top out. Starting on a low flat hold you cross up to a good crimp, than lock off to a slanted finger rail, than more good crimps to the top. Quite fun, and the boulder appears to have more problems, but they are all in need of some tender lovin care, not to mention they all have death landings and I am sans crashpad.

The rock is some type of weird shale, very smooth and sharp in some places, but has interesting coloration.

Here is a picture of the Whale Wall. Looks slabby, but its really not. STanding at the base and looking up at it you can start to feel how overhung it really is, nothing crazy, but it definitely gives a good pump. I'm almost finished cleaning the entire wall and there are now at least 6 independent lines up it, a couple of sweet little projects that I am working on.

Week 5, Birthday in the Birthday Suit!

2011-10-08T12:06:00.000-07:00

It's been a few weeks now since my birthday but why not re-hash it here in this post? I mean, I am trying to 'catch up' right?

Well, to start off this post I have to give a huge shout out and thank you to Allison and Jon Dunlap, the owners of Sitka Sound Ocean Adventures (the kayak guiding company that Steph works for). My b-day is on the 17th of September which coincided with their end of the season 'guides only' trip to the Goddard hot springs. They invited me along which was very generous indeed!

The trip involved a nice boat ride to the southern portion of Baranof Island where the hot springs is located. We were also staying in an amazing cabin a mere 10 minute kayak from the hot springs on a sweet little island that had amazing beaches. Allison cooked all of our meals in two dutch ovens and even made me a cake!! The hot springs were just that, hot and springy. There were two 'bath house' type hot springs in wooden huts that had iron tubs in them where you could control the influx of hot water and even drain the entire tub. I wasn't a huge fan of these but higher up the trail there was a huge hot springs right there in the good ole ground, this was more like it.

Now, I'm used to getting butt naked in a hot springs but there were other people present that might have been slightly uncomfortable if I had stripped down to my birthday suit, so I kept it PG...until they left HA! Then it was on, or off I should say. We had a great soak and finished the evening with a beef stew and pound cake smothered in blueberry sauce, not to mention the ghost stories.
The next morning was full of good food, more hot springs, and granite boulders!!

Okay, it was one granite boulder, and no, it wasn't very high, or hard (that's what she said?). There was a lot of granite everywhere though. More so than I had seen in any other part of the island. It was nice to feel those large grained crystals again, took me straight back to Squamish for sure.

All in all, an amazing birthday. I feel so fortunate to be in this part of the country, having the kind of experiences I'm having. Psyched for more!

Week 4, Time for a Grand Hike! Bear Mt.

2011-10-07T10:32:00.000-07:00

Steph

The first stop after the initial slog was at a great little sub-alpine pond. The water was crystal clear, and we took some time to recover from our harrowing journey through the trees. Bear Mt. is a 4,500 foot tall peak that sports some of the most amazing panoramic views I have ever seen on a day hike. There is also some killer backcountry snowboarding to be had in the Winter.

The peak in the foreground just off center is Mt. Verstovia, and the volcanoe in the back ground is Mt. Edgecumb.

Matt and Jeremiah

Crossing the snow field.

Neva, the greatest dog in the entire world. This is one of those dogs that you want to pet and cuddle every time you see her, but she has other plans. She could care less to be coddled all day, in fact, all she wants to do is run up and down mountains and chase squirrels.

Matt climbing one of the many rocky 'teats' of Bear Mt.

We asked Matt questions all day, and in many of my photos with Matt in them he is pointing at some obscure peak in the distance and rattling off beta for it. Matt is a superbly educated person when it comes to the outdoors (not to mention he is also a Physics teacher at the local high school); an accomplished mountaineer and wilderness EMT he is simply one of those people you just feel safe around. He reminded me a lot of James Pearson.

Ahhh, the summit approaches! Can't wait to sit on that thing...that's right, I know we're all thinking the same thing.

We made it to the summit and had our photo taken by the legendary Alaskan outdoor superhero, Steve Rifenstuhl!! What an impressive man he is; bulge and all!

Photo taken by: Dana Benton

The end...or is it?!!

Bear V.S. Eagle!

2011-10-05T22:07:00.001-07:00

Week 3, CLIMBING!

2011-10-04T17:51:00.000-07:00

Okay, where was I? Oh yeah, catching up, heh heh heh, um, well this is awkward. For you, not for me, I mean, I'm here in Alaska, remember?
Back to the grand re-telling of my adventure. So the first week went by with no climbing. Second week, same result. Finally, I found a wall!!

Well, this isn't exactly it. But it looks great, doesn't it? This is a two pitch wall at least, and has the most potential for 4 star routes, maybe even some trad, there is a sweet looking roof crack to the right in that bulge.

I actually found two walls, but the second wall is much more involved than the first and would require A LOT of preparation, rappelling, bolting, cleaning, etc. etc. The first wall is great, and suited what I was looking for to a T. It is a roadside crag that offers slightly inverted climbing on thin edges, and sharp finger buckets. I heard about this wall from a guy who used to work for Search and Rescue (SAR) and told me there would be promise in a wall that they used to practice rappelling down. I drove and drove down a road (the only road really) that he recommended and voila, there it was. Smiling back at me, as if it had been waiting around for me the entire time. A huge piece of graffiti staining it's otherwise, well, crumbly but promising lower face, shouted out in two words the summation of teen angst "Shit Ballz" in yellow and blue (can't argue with the color scheme). A small scramble onto a ledge and you are perched at the base of this seemingly innocent looking piece of rock. Climbing up a couple of ledge systems lead to a good head wall where all of the routes that I have been working on begin.

It was a bit of a struggle to figure out how exactly I was to reach the top of this 65 foot wall, in order to throw a top rope down and start inspecting the lines, but once I crunched my way through some underbrush there turned out to be quite an accommodating little trail that actually runs the length of the entire bluff system that has a lot of potential for future routes. When I happened upon the right section of wall I found that there was a huge chain wrapped around a massive tree overlooking the right side of the wall and I was overjoyed that I wouldn't have to go through the rigmaroles of setting up my own anchor systems as well as cleaning them, even though I knew in the future I would have to in order to scope out and clean the left side of the wall. I rapped down and was pretty psyched the whole way down. The wall is featured, but not too featured as to make harder lines contrived or A line at all ambiguous. I could tell that the middle and left walls had lines and features all the way up them as well so I smiled big and got to work brushing, chalking, and prying loose holds off the wall. I managed to put up and send the first line of the wall, which I affectionately named Shit Ballz, a name to this day I loathe. The route starts off, as all of them do, off the ledge by a short boulder problem. After the boulder problem its 5.8 climbing on ledges to one final ledge, where you can stand and look up at the blankness. From here, there is a lot of foot work and one small razor blade crimp that lead to flat holds and one more lock offs to a good jug. Then it's all lock offs on fairly decent flat edges, finger jugs, and split crimps. The crux isn't really my favorite thing in the world, but the top section is actually quite brilliant and slightly thuggish. The wall is slightly overhanging after all.

This is a whale tail! I named him Wally. Wally the Whale.

The wall itself overlooks Silver Bay, and all of September there has been a juvenile whale feeding, breaching, blow holing, and singing to me as I climb, so I have decided to re-name the wall 'Whale Wall'. As for the quality of the routes, I'm pretty sure nobody thinks their own kids are ugly, so maybe its just the glow in the eyes of a first time parent that could blind my judgment, but I think they are all worth doing, and then worth doing again, especially since I haven't really invested any time in any of the other crags I have found. The climbing on the wall is very, VERY crimpy, and sharp. After a couple burns on the harder routes, my feet and fingers are done. There is no texture on any of the holds, its almost like climbing on the fractured basalt at Deep Creek except nowhere near as classy. The rock is crumbly down low, but once you get on the headwall its bullet hard, with the exception of some thin flakes that I have been prying off here and there.

All in all I have cleaned and sent on top rope these 6 routes below.
Shit Ballz - 5.10c/d
Sitka Sounds - 5.11a/b
Sitka Vibrations - 5.11d (very contrived, but a cool low percentage crux move)
Whale Song - 5.11d (hold broke at second crux, so may be easier now)
Whale Rap - 5.11d
Blow Hole (5.10d/11a)

There is maybe 3 more variations to do before the contrived problems start coming out of the bag, but the last pure line on the wall is going to be hard, maybe even in the .12b/c range hard. I liken it to Legends at the quarry, very sustained crimping, hard foot work, to a pumpy finish on flat ledges. It's going to be awesome, I just need the skin and psyche to finish it off.
The future looks good, I may make a trip to Anchorage at the end of this month and check out the climbing gyms. Other than that, there is a sweet new crag we just discovered that has some slabby routes on the front and some overhung routes on the side, so I'm waiting for dry weather to check it out on a rope.

This is a picture of the sun setting on Silver Bay. After climbing sessions I sit and take in the immense beauty of this place, and always with a few Rainiers.

So, will the wall ever get bolted? Well, I met a local who used to climb and the word Hilti came up in our conversation, but now its all a matter of how much time, money, and effort I want to put into this little piece of rock. We shall see...

First Week in Sitka, Mt. Verstovia

2011-09-19T19:47:00.001-07:00

When I first arrived in Sitka I was met by Steph, her dad Louise, and his friend Adam. Louise and Adam had flown to Sitka from Seattle to see Steph and dip their hands in the cookie jar of fishing that is prevelant amongst south east Alaskan towns such as Sitka. Amongst the tales of bear encounters, kayaking, and fishing I managed to talk Louise into doing a steep hike with me up Mt. Verstovia.

Louise is a great guy, in good shape for a man his age, and eagerly joined me up Mt. Verstovia.

One of the first hikes I did here, and certainly no pushover. Mt. Verstovia can be summed up in two parts: 1) The first 2,550 ft to a pleasant overlook of Sitka, and 2) The saddleback and ridge, another 1,000 ft of steep ridge hiking to a rocky switch back all the way to the summit. Its a beautiful view of Sitka, and just one of the many peaks that populate the Sitka back country.

We made excellent time, putting down the first 2,500 feet in a little over an hour, and then trudged up the next 1,000 feet in about an hour. It was nice to nock a peak out in the first week of being here; it made me feel a little more connected to my surroundings.

I had a great time swilling beer with Louise up on the shoulder of Verstovia and chatting about life the rest of the way down.

From Squamish to Sitka

2011-09-12T12:26:00.000-07:00

Squamish was great. I couldn’t have asked for a better trip really. I made it there with little to no road rage, border was good, wasn't made to strip down and grab my ankles, and my car wasn’t asked to do the automotive equivalent of a strip search, so I was happy. Why is it so comforting to pull into the Squamish parking lot on a sunny day? I have so many fond memories of Squamish, from the very first time before I knew jack shit about bouldering or the profound impacts it would have on my life, with Dom and Laura and Rob and George, to Nick and Jimmy, to the most recent trip with Ty, David and Jimmy and Dom.
I pulled into the parking lot and immediately felt at home. I felt welcome. I felt ready to climb, and laugh, and drink and eat, and sleep in the car with the hatch up, drifting off in a comfortable haze under the star bright Canadian sky with the Chief looming in the background like a watchful and loving parent. I walked through the forest with a smile.

The first people I ran into were a worn out Jimmy, Ty, and David. They had been in Squamish for the last 8 days and were ready for a rest.

I found them standing and watching a group of french Cnadian climbers tackle the low start to a problem called Mr. Bigglesworth. I’m not really sure what they were doing at this particular boulder, since none of them were climbing, but it served me well as a warm up. Mr. Bigglesworth is a pretty sweet V.6 I had never even laid eyes on before. I gave it a few burns before finally leaping to the finishing incut crimp at the lip while the two French guys in the background shook their heads with disgust. The French are much more statically inclined, probably has something to do with their roots in the mime business. I gave the low a once over and approved of the intro, but maybe next time. We scooped up the pads and sauntered through the woods struggling to make up our minds as to what to get on next.

Hunt’s arête? No. Sharma traverse? The Bulb? No. No. The Rookie? YES! Last year I was thwarted by this problem. My access to the upper crimps was repeatedly denied by a lack of confidence in my heel hook and a fear of landing on my back. This year I jumped to the sloper, reached out right and locked off on the crimper, reaching upwards with ease and finding good crimps waiting for me. I hit the jug at the top and then was faced with a boulderers’ nightmare, a blank top out. I had to think about it for a while before finally switching my hand into a palm press and rocking over on a good foot ledge. Whew! It was done! I was psyched out of my mind to have sent a V.8 in Squamish on my first bouldering trip of the year, not to mention my first bouldering trip since I had torn my Achilles. It felt really good to have a couple hard problems under my belt on my first day in Squamish and I was nothing short of pleased and psyched for the rest of the trip. I made it my goal to try and tick all the V-grades from V.0 to V.8. So far, the hardest parts were out of the way but I still needed to find a V.7 that would let me have my way. Enough about that.

Dom had driven up the night before, somewhat intoxicated, so he was napping in his tent. We ran into him later in the afternoon while I was having a go on Mantra. I made some good progress and should have sent. I latched the slopey pinch at the lip but gave up on trying to get my heel high enough to rock over to the finishing jug. There are so many problems I am psyched on at Squamish, I really cannot wait until next summer to come back for an extended (hopefully two week) stay.

We stopped climbing in order to have some dinner in the fading summer sun, but got back to work when the evening cool set in. We had finally congealed as a group and the first boulder we stopped at was the Super Dyke boulder. A viciously crimpy and technical line that has a tree right at your back during the crux sequence. Everyone started shredding what little skin they had left but I only tried it once.

Ty on Super Dyke (V.3)

Dom reaching and balancing on Super Dyke.

Just before the crippling fall!

The above picture is pretty much how the rest of the trip went for Dom. He sent Rainier after Rainier, and then tackled the aspirin bottle which he flashed.

The one huge disappointment of the trip happened on this very problem. Dom had gotten through the crux on Super Dyke but fell on a vicious barn door move coming down awkwardly on his ankle. It was hideously swollen in a matter of minutes and it was clear that his short trip to Squamish was over, at least in the climbing department. We scrambled about looking for a makeshift crutch for him before we finally decided to just put him on our backs (literally), or at least David’s back. The evening sesh ended with beer and a couple of The Fuzz sends. It was great to be back in Squamish. The next morning we splintered into mini groups. Jimmy and I headed to Check Canyon, David and Ty went bouldering at the North Walls, and Dom, well, Dom went to Murrin Park to sit by the lake and read, and not die from an aspirin overdose.

I had an excellent time sport climbing. I started the day off with a super classic .10b at the Forgotten wall called the Voodoo That You Do. Next up I went for the onsight of .12a called Got Pull? It didn’t look exceptionally tricky but I was definitely struggling on some of the moves just out of sheer fear of the unknown. It turned out to be quite easy. A couple big pulls in the middle made up the crux, but the start and the finish were probably 5.9? It’s not a super proud .12a, but I was still really psyched to be able to just hop on a .12a and send. Jimmy flashed, then I tried the .12b next door but it was awkward and crimpy and I just didn’t have a good time climbing on it. Jimmy nabbed the .12b and then stepped right and onsighted a sweet looking .12a called Trunk Monkey. I really regret not trying this line, it looked great. I was kind of saving my energy for the Fleeing Heffer, but I started to get in the groove and everything looked appealing to me (I love that feeling, the fear melts away and all of sudden you want to climb everything!). The sun was not cooperating so we retreated to a shadier spot near the Circus wall called Toxic Lichen wall. I onsighted a really crimpy and technical .11c there called Mutation which is given 4 stars in the guide book. It was not my style at all, and I didn’t enjoy it at a 4 star level, but it is definitely a classic. Jimmy onsighted another .12a called Ms. Negative and after watching Jimmy on it I decided to pass this one up as well. Infact, I was feeling pretty tired so we just packed up and left without even getting on the day’s main objective! Oh well, next year (I said that a lot on this trip).

I wolfed down a foot long from Quizno’s and then we headed to the lake to meet up with the rest of the crew. We dipped our feet in for a while and then, accompanied by a woozy Dom, we made our way back to the Chief parking lot. I was on a mission. The sun had started to slowly dip behind the elegance that is the chief and I was loading my back pack with beer. Jimmy, Ty, David, and myself headed into the woods to see what we could find.

(There was supposed to be a video of the send here but my internet connection is fucked!)

Another failed sesh on Mantra led me to Breakfast at Tiffany’s, just what I was looking for. The holds are all really good, and so are the feet, perfect. I can usually tell right off the bat whether or not I have a good chance of sending a boulder problem, and with this one I not only thought I could send, but I really felt like I could flash this. In my overenthusiastic flash attempt I pulled on way too relaxed and watched as my foot slipped right off the starting foot ramp. Oh well. I figured out some better foot beta for the first move and I had my hand sequence absolutely dialed. For extra encouragement I decided to perch my camera on a nearby stump and get some video footage (I was also by myself, so I thought it would be good to have some evidence of the send in case there were some haters). I pulled on and nailed my hand sequence and the new higher foot I used kept me on quite nicely. Everything was working out swell, I had to make a harder than I thought from the ground stab to a slopey side pull but once I stuck it, in typical Squamish style (hand slaps rock and slides down a good 6 inches from where it started before sticking in place from pure friction and will power), I grabbed some incuts and started pull my girth over the slopey bulge that is the top out. Uh oh. I couldn’t quite get my right foot onto a huge foot ledge at waist height. Crap! I was starting to overgrip, plus there was noone spotting me. I tried to stab for higher ground with my hands but no dice. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a guy jump over rocks and downed trees to come to my rescue. That definitely took some of the fear out of my grip and I finally relaxed enough to grovel the rest of the way up. I had completed the V.7 for my collection! YES!

David on a sweet and burly V.3 traverse.

Now it was time to sit down, stop shaking, and drink the pain away. I cracked a cool Rainier and sat on my crashpads soaking in the streams of light that made their way through the dense trees of the forest. Cheap beer has never tasted so good. I think the last time I had bouldered it had been in the Fall, almost a year ago, and this trip had absolutely infected me with the bouldering bug once more. I sauntered through the woods looking for my wayward friends. I found them monkeying around on an obscure boulder above Mantra, which was actually home to a splendid V.4. I ticked one more number off the list. I gathered my friends and we plodded through the forest stopping whenever we saw a line we wanted to climb on. This worked quite well actually. We kept stumbling upion really sweet low balls. The first was a traversing line on good incut crimpers across an otherwise blank face. The straight up version was V.3, check! Just over a dead tree laid another sweet looking line that was V.2, check! David took us to an awesome low ball roof called Diabolica. With some toe hook trickery I was mantling my V.5, check! We wandered on down the trail and stopped one last time at another traversing line that was really good as well. I still had a V.1 and V.0 to do but I wasn’t worried. We kept walking down the road to the powerline boulders but didn’t climb anymore that evening. What a day it had been.

Sport climbing, bouldering, the only thing I was missing was multi pitch trad climbing, but since Dom had fucked his ankle up beyond belief I would have to do without. I decided since I was going to be pretty much sedentary for the next few days that I would wake up early before my long drive to Prince Rupert and hike the Chief trail.

I had always seen hordes, masses, swarms of people making their way up this trail but had never let my curiosity run away with me. My plan worked well, I woke up at 6:30 and by 7 I was on the trail. It was absolutely abandoned except for two people, who quite frankly looked as if they were not going to make it, and they were only 10 minutes in (or at least I was only ten minutes in when I ran across them). The hike was steep but on all sides of me there was immaculate, soaring walls of tan, salt and pepper, and almost a smokey colored granite. I liked being the first on such a popular trail, it felt serene and calm amongst the sleeping giants.

The view from the second peak, Squamish in a nutshell.

I did the first peak, had a good look around, then hiked the second peak. I guess you could say I was procrastinating a little bit, since I wasn't entirely thrilled about hopping in my car and driving for 18 hours, but I eventually managed my way back down the trail (which was now swarming with people) and said a fond farewell to my friends who I probably won't see for quite some time.

Mt. Geribaldi

Leaving Squamish behind, far behind...

Aaaahhhhhh, finally, Prince Rupert!! This was the view while I waited to board the ferry.

And finally, presenting, SITKA!! This is the view from the library where I spend a lot of time on line, reading, writing, and looking for jobs! I was so stoked to finally get here. Rolling off the the ferry at two in the morning was a very surreal experience. Luckily, Sitka is not very big and it was easy to navigate my way to Steph's place. I've been here for three weeks now, and well, I guess you'll just have to check back in a couple of days to see what I've been up to...

Trying to Catch Up, The Tooth and My Last Day at Little si

2011-09-08T15:02:00.000-07:00

Well hello everyone. I'm sure you've missed me. Or maybe not. Either way, here is a very late blog post. I'll be making a lot of them in the next few days in an attempt to catch everyone up with what I've been doing. I've got more than enough photos, words, a video, and hopefully a lot of inspiration. So sit back and enjoy the show.
The above picture is of my friend Kyle on the middle section of the The Tooth. As Kyle put it, "The Tooth is like training wheels for alpine trad climbing." Indeed.

Here are some pictures of the rocky ridges that enveloped our approach to the Tooth. These were taken on our way out of the valley.

It was absolutely a beautiful day and I went shirtless pretty much all day, which I paid for severely for the next week (and maybe even possibly the rest of my life)

One of the highlights of the trip was discovering the amazing potential for alpine bouldering in this valley. There was everything, from lazer-cut faces, aretes, high balls, low balls, roofs, corners, slabs, etc etc. It was mind boggling!

Here is Kyle doing a great impression of a down hill skier.

Like I said, the weather was amazing. There was at least five other groups on the route that day, but once we got to the summit, we had the 360 panoramic view to ourselves and we sat and drank Rainier and sorted gear and got ready to do it a second time.

Rainier. So bummed I wasn't able to join my friends on a summit of this rig before I left.

Here is the valley you have to walk up in order to get to the base of the climb. It was great to get back on a snow field.

The future realm! This was the most impressive boulder I saw. Overhung face with every kind of feature you can imagine, and some HARD lines as well. Perfect top out, little to no cleaning involved. I want to hear of some FA's my friends!

Here is the beginning of the approach across the snow field. The Tooth is the big blob in the middle fo the photo.

Ahhhh, Litte si. What would my blog be without you? Once I was able to squeeze my foot into a climbing shoe it was on. I wanted to get some endurance back and go for a redpoint of something hard. Unfortunately, I just never got the appropriate momentum going. I did however manage to repeat a bunch of lines I had done before. Psychosomatic became almost like a warm up. I managed to repeat it 5 times, Techno 4 times, and a one time repeat of the ultra classic bouldery test piece PC-7. I did hop on Californicator but it kicked my ass and I decided to just get some mileage in. I had such a good time every time I made it out here and I never ceased to be inspired by this crag. I am so bummed I didn't have more time here, I was really feeling strong on my last day and with a little more time (like a month), feel like I could have put away alot of hard lines.
Below and above are some pictures I took of Sonja and her friend climbing Californicator.

From Dusk Till Dawn

2011-08-04T11:05:00.000-07:00

You know the signs of a person who spends the majority of their time outside right? Tan, good looking, nice body etc. Oh, shit, I think I may have described the majority of people who now reside in south beach Florida, oh well. Maybe the outdoorsmen needs a little fine tuning. Okay, how about this; tan (but not that Jersey Shore wanna-be fake tan orange bullshit), bug bite-ridden, emanating a distinct odor that says “I’m comfortable with how dirty my asshole gets on long climbing trips and you should be too!”, unkempt, white powder streaked clothing, a dazed look graces his/her face, callused hands, and a physique that screams “I got this way by hauling 50+ pounds up a sheer rock face for the pure enjoyment of the scenery and the experience!”. I guess that kind of sums it up better, if you have addendums please write.
So this is a write up about my latest outdoor excursion. The plan was carefully crafted by myself and my best friends I, P, and A. Wednesday! Yes, no one will be out there Wednesday! I exclaimed, fool heartedly. Infinite Bliss, albeit the most popular multi-pitch climb in the Northwest, is also the longest multi-pitch sport climb in North America. That’s right, North A-freakin’ merica. How was it that I had never attempted such a beauty? Years of insecurity and a major “I’m too good for that ‘dirt-bag’ shit” attitude, that’s how. Anyway, good friends Dom, Esteban, and James were all in agreement about this endeavor to tackle the 23 pitch monster so there I was driving frantically to North Bend at 5 in the morning to meet up with the team of destiny.
The approach to the base of the climb is a multi-pitch slog in and of itself. It’s fucking steep and it feels like it never ends. Luckily I had been training for just such occasions and only managed to sweat through an entire long sleeve shirt. I left it hanging on a tree to dry out, thus I climbed all day shirtless, BOO Yah!
After the bun burning approach we were all cooking in our own juices but happy to be face to face with some of the finest granite in the state. The first six pitches was a blur. The rope teams were James and myself, and Dom and Esteban. James and I went first. 600 feet of mega slab was taken down in a cool half hour. I’ve never climbed so fast in my life. It was a white blur of wind and water polished granite. When we finally stopped we had put down the first ten pitches in a matter of an hour and a half, and one of those pitches included a really cool 5.9 pitch that is no slouch. We were on track to slay this beast with the quickness. Pitch eleven was one of the harder pitches going at 5.10b. That’s 5.10b slab everyone, just for those of you who don’t know, I am not a slab climber by any strectch of the childhood imagination. But, there I was, roped up and on lead, clinging desperately to micro sized crimps and smearing on fingernail edges. I made it through the heinously thin crux section to the enjoyable 60 foot 5.7 section. It was a good pitch. Following the first hard pitch there was approximately 2-3 more pitches of really nice featured slab climbing at 5.7/8.
We finally got to a good ledge and some chains. This would mark the end of the 13th pitch and the beginning of the ‘shit show’. An immense sea of choss, shrubbery, grass, dirt, loose rock etc. was staring us in the face. No bolts, no rope, YIKES! James stacked the rope and started climbing and I followed suit. I’ll sum it up like this: IT WAS THE SKETCHIEST 300 FEET OF CLIMBING IN MY ENTIRE LIFE!! I’m not gonna’ lie, I was scared. Petrified would probably be a more astute adjective to describe my state of mind, but you know what, I went for it. I soloed the 300 feet of choss and was more than relieved to make it to the next set of anchors. We had a bit of an epic on this choss section but we all managed to get through it safely and soundly.
We did a couple more pitches of cruiser 5.7 and then it was time for the hardest pitch on the route, a high angled slab of 5.10c. I, once again, was roped up and on lead (and psyched to be given the opportunity to onsight the hardest pitch!). It was immaculate! This pitch alone was worth the 300 foot solo on death scree. A perfect granite face climb utilizing amazing crimpers, flakes, side pulls, slopers, smearing, edging, the whole package! It was a long pitch as well, 90-100 feet. The hardest part for me was the very last crux that involved a highstep and a thumbercling (although I may have been the only one to use it). If the choss section was gone, I would probably come back to this route just to climb this pitch again, it was that good.
After the .10c it was a short pitch of 5.8, to an incredible open book chimney that went at 5.10, and was almost 120 feet long! This 5.10a pitch of chimney climbing was hard at the end of the day and involved a lot of body jamming, pinching, and lie backing. At the end of it we were pretty much there! One more pitch of stellar 5.8 climbing on polished blocky jugs up an exposed arête, to one last pitch of absolutely amazing 5.9 friction climbing that had a really interesting lie back crack section. Five feet from the summit my feet were on fire!! I literally crawled the last couple yards to the summit and screamed like a girl (no offense girls) upon taking my shoes off. Both of my big toes were numb.
We had done it! We started the day at 6:45 a.m. and we were now comfortably seated at the summit of Mt. Garfield (a.k.a Infinite Bliss), a mere 23 pitch jaunt from the car below. The view was, of course, aesthetic beyond all belief. The Middle Fork of the Snoqualmie River snaked through the valley, wriggling in between the tree covered hillsides and mountainous peaks. Snow covered rocky outcroppings could be seen in the distance inviting would be mountaineers, and sinewy white clouds hung above the jagged mountain tops that seemed to be surrounding us on all sides. We cracked a Rainier, and I could hear John Denver’s “Sunshine On My Shoulders Makes Me Happy” being played in the background.
Well, not to ruin a perfect moment or anything but we were not the only party making our way up this behemoth. Six more people were below us, two of which had made astoundingly quick work of the route and joined us at the summit. This turned out to benefit us on our rappel since we could now utilize three rappel teams and four ropes. We double rapped the first 13 pitches before shit just started going wrong. I pulled a rope that had a knot in it and ended up having to climb an easy 120 foot pitch of 5.8 to get the rope un-stuck (yay). At this point (and several points before this one) we were all tired, vitamin-D overdosed, and dreaming of cheeseburgers and pulled pork sandwiches as big as VW beetles. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention we were also in a war zone. Even though the majority of the pitches on IB are bullet stone granite, there are a lot of opportunities to kick down loose rocks (some the size of peanuts others the size of bowling balls). Since we were the first people rapping down, the other people that had previously been below us were now above us, and the occasional death torpedo that had gained terminal velocity would come whizzing by with only a couple seconds of notice. This phenomenon turned out to be the scariest part of the day for me. I was in a rap team with Esteban and we were the last ones of our group to rappel down (hence we were following everyone and so far having to do very little work). However, Esteban almost got annihilated TWICE by baseball sized rock grenades. One of them was at the base of a pitch on a huge ledge. I had sat down to wait for our turn. I heard a whirring noise that got louder and louder and in a panic looked up only to see a large chunk of granite spiraling towards us at 100 mph. The rock smashed to bits on a ledge only five feet from where Esteban was anchored in. The sound of something potentially lethal barreling down on you, when you have no bearing or possible idea of what that ‘thing’ could be strikes the kind of fear in you that gives ordinary people the strength and energy of ten men. We rapped the last 8 pitches with fervor, to say the least, and finally made it to the base of the climb just as the silvery slither of moon could be seen cradled between two distant mountains.
Oh but the fun didn’t stop there. We made our last rappel, but upon pulling the rope realized it had gotten stuck (AGAIN!). In a rage Esteban prussiced up the last two pitchesd we had JUST rapped down and trouble shot the situation. We got our gear, ropes, and ourselves down safely. SUCCESS! Now for the descent hike (double fucking UGH!). I had no head lamp because, like a true idiot, I always come unprepared! It was a good half hour or so of blind stumbling and knee crushingly good times, accompanied by my partner in crime, my rock, my beacon of light, Esteban! Who showed the way with his head torch. I don’t think I have ever been so happy, amazed, or confused, upon arriving at my car.
Well, that’s it, that’s my story. I tried to sleep in today but my dog keeps pestering for me a walk and food and things of that nature so I have dragged myself out of the comforts of my bed to peer wide eyed

The Beach?

2011-08-02T11:36:00.000-07:00

The Gathering

2011-07-31T12:48:00.001-07:00

Hair of the Dog

2011-07-29T18:19:00.001-07:00

Wow, I've been terrible at updating my blog lately. Mostly due to the fact that my life is in a state of constant flux right now.
In the last three weeks I have managed to quit my job, move out of my apartment, and do a ton of goodbyes, hellos, hiking, a dash of climbing, and a lot of Good Will trips. It’s been one of the most exciting times in my life! I love the thought of a different landscape, different people, and different experiences the former bring with them.

Bob's area!

One of the most exciting developments for me lately has been my ability to rock climb with two feet! Last weekend I managed a back to back rock climbing trip; first day was Bob’s Area at Mt. Washington, and the second day was spent at my favorite area of all Little Si. Needless to say I have a bit of endurance to get back, but I will be a mere 30 minutes from the crag for the next 2.5 weeks and hopefully a project or two will fall? I have so many goals that I want to accomplish, or at least attempt, before I go, I’m just a little nervous in thinking about how obtainable they all are.

The approach to the Tooth.

The Tooth is that little guy smack dab in the middle.

Nick finishing up Aborigine (5.11b).

Nick drop knees into the crux of Technorigine (5.12c).

Nick off of Techno.

While last weekend was great; with the exception of a recon mission to find and hike to the base of the Tooth (a super classic multi-pitch trad climb in Snoqualmie Valley), the week on the other hand was full of stress. There were a couple of fleeting moments where I felt like it was never going to end and I was making the wrong decision. Moving out of a place can have a deleterious effect on ones psyche from time to time. The people at my job were great and threw me a going away party with a cake and everything. I was also bought lunch and dinner and yes, there were several tears shed. Whether they were tears of joy or sadness remains a mystery.
It took two trips to get the rest of my ‘stuff’ vacated from my apartment. In all I had lived there for two and half years! I think the longest place I have lived before this was another apartment complex near Evergreen with my then girlfriend Liz.

I've heard this alot over the last 16 months. I had four pieces.

Laura doing all the work.

Dom watching.

Mel watching.

I enjoyed the Hacienda (this is the name of the apartment complex). The small garden and walled in patio out front were pluses and the pool was very nice. Not to mention being in such close proximity to the Chehalis-Western trail was amazing, I absolutely loved running on it in the Fall when the Big Leaf Maples started to shed their decaying leaves. Of course living in Lacey, as well as in an apartment complex that some would describe as having a close resemblance to a south Los Angeles ghetto has its drawbacks. But it was a great little place for me and served its purpose well. Driving back to Seattle last night with my car filled to the brim for a second time I didn’t feel very nostalgic. Just tired and ready to be done sorting, moving, giving, throwing away, and being totally and utterly overwhelmed.
I’m here in Seattle now and last night I had the first realizations of a feeling that could only be described as “Holy Shit dude! You don’t have a job or a place to stay!” I stood in my mom’s kitchen swilling a warm beer and thinking about how my life had almost come full circle. Eight years ago I picked up what little belongings I had and moved to Olympia, and here I was doing the same dance in reverse. Now, it’s not entirely true, I do have places to stay and a small short term job landscaping, but the feeling of having the carpet pulled from beneath my feet and angrily getting up rubbing my backside only to find that the culprit was someone who closely resembled yours truly is a little stunning.

Seatown.

Don't worry, he's just sleeping.

I’m trying not to think about all of the hugely important and absolutely crucial things I need to do before I make my final voyage north to Alaska (like get a ferry reservation, trim my belongings down to what will fit in my car, say good bye to very dear friends, pay bills, save enough money to live on for two months, and find a job!). For now, I just want to think about the incredibly awesome time I’m going to have tomorrow at my BBQ as 15-20 of my friends from Oly and Seattle will combine to form some out of control love fest hungrily making its way down Greenwood taking no prisoners.
Not to mention the pre-BBQ crush fest at Little si. Hope to see you all there!

Through The Looking Glass

2011-07-10T19:42:00.000-07:00

http://www.highinfatuation.com/blog/turning-points/

Above is a link to Steph Davis's blog. I wrote her a letter and her response was very helpful.

Well, it really hasn't been fair of me to keep all of you in the dark for so long. I guess my pilgrimage started about a month ago when I boldly signed up for a Wilderness First Responder course. Like the falling of tiny pebbles that begin a landslide this course opened me up to so many different possibilities and inspired within me a passion I didn't know existed.

Long story short, I had a massively mind blowing time during the course where I met some simply astounding people who I am proud to call my friends. I want to continue down this path and one of my goals now is to become EMT certified.

After the WFR course I found myself in Alaska where I did a shit load of hiking and kayaking and came to the conclusion that I would like to move there. Plus there is this pretty cool girl there that I kinda like.

So after Alaska I came home and felt like I had done some pretty good endurance training while away (in 4 days I hiked 26 miles and had a cumulative elevation gain of over 10,000 feet). So, since I wasn't in any shape to strap on a climbing boot, I headed to the mountains with a snow board strapped to my back. Boon, Steve, and myself attempted to summit Adams in a day (a mere 12,500 foot endeavor) with slightly over 70lbs strapped to our backs. I pooped out just beneath the false summit at 11,000+ feet. and my compatriots managed the false summit before feeling like they were going to die. Epic fail, but the snow board back down from base camp the next morning was nothing short of amazing (with the exception of getting lost in the trees).

The following weekend I managed to do Muir and snowboard down which was probably the most fun I've had on a snowboard since Baker earlier this year. The next day I got up and did a really fun summit with some awesome friends, Gretchen, Steve, Laura, and Samy. The glissade down was fast and furious and I could not stop laughing from sheer enjoyment. Plus I got to meet some mountain goats.

Last weekend I did Mt. Si in a couple of hours round trip. The run down destroyed my knees for the next two days but it was a lot of fun and I finally feel like I have some endurance back. The only down side, besides the crippling pain in my knees, was the fact that the entire time I was in a rain cloud and when I got to the summit I couldn't see a damn thing. Real glad I brought my camera.

This week I have been fast at work to try and get all of my possesions in order and organize my route to Alaska as well as move out of my apartment. I've been really excited for some kind of change to occur in my life, and while I leave a lot of amazing people behind I look forward to new places, people, and adventures.

I've gotten to the point where I can squeeze my foot into a climbing shoe so I'm really psyched to get out to little si and Exit 38 as much as possible before I go. Plus, I want to summit Rainier and make one last trip to Lake Serene (let me know if you are interested!!)

My schedule looks like this:

July 28th is my last day in Olympia. That evening I move to Seattle to house sit for my mom while she is in Ireland and France.

August 16th is my last day in Seattle. That morning I will leave Seattle and head to Squamish for a few days before heading north to Alaska.

By August the 23rd I will finally touch down in Alaska!

Not entirely sure what is going to happen in Alaska. I have looked into getting EMT certified for free through Search and Rescue so that looks to be a promising course of action (fingers crossed). I also need to learn how to bolt rock because I have found one of the most amazing crags up there. It will only be climbable for another 3 months but hey, I might be able to establish some sweet top ropes. Other than that, the climbing front for me will consist of rock rings and a hang board, at least for the next 8-10 months.

Anyway, I love you all and I will definitely keep updating my blog even though it might turn into a hiking/back country snow boarding blog for a while.

Oh yeah, I've got a new camera now which I love so lets hit the crags for a photo shoot!!

I Heart Beer

2011-06-02T11:57:00.000-07:00

Lost in a daze of confusion. Vantage was a brilliant escape to clarity. Floating. Like giant fluffy bloated clouds along a bright landscape dotted with sage and sand. It was hardly a place to take seriously. Orange lizards jumped around the hot rocky spree like kernels of popcorn on a hot plate. I was excited to touch real rock. It was silent. The feathers were a blur, and the mascot was a portly fellow who looked tired and greeted the new arrivals with a red plastic keg cup and a stretched out blue t-shirt with white letters that spelled out the phrase “I heart beer”. In closing, Vantage was the right choice.

Rob on a 5.10a mixed route.

Mel stays 'cool' on the beginning of the world's 'best' 5.9.

Gretch looks to top out the crag!

This picture says it all. Sasquatch in full effect, the beer was free!

Laura bearing down on a mean start to a 5.11b.

Fluffy

It is so damn hot out here!

2011-05-05T15:48:00.000-07:00

Well, as far as trip reports are concerned, Vantage seems to have some weird gravitational pull on me lately, so here is yet another trip report from the latest journey to the east. I can’t seem to get enough of that shrub steppe (or is it steppe shrub?). Besides the free camping, and the endless amount of sport climbing there, Vantage is also quite a nice place this time of the year. Of course, at the end of the trip when I’m covered in dust, chalk, dried sweat, burnt skin, and fecal matter I’m more than happy to curse the existence of this oppressively dry, hot, and otherwise unfriendly environment. However, as I reminisce on the still clear images of the past weekend the negative side effects of a dirty lifestyle pass me by like angry hicks on the highway in raised pickup trucks. Instead I like to think about the endless days spent climbing everything in sight, cheering on friends, making fun of friends, community meals, getting pumped stupid, the feeling of rock underneath my fingertips, the sound a quick draw makes when you clip it, the relief the aforementioned noise brings to your otherwise panicked mind, the feeling of the energy being drained from you by the intensity of the sun, the same energy returning as you pull onto a route and are faced with the athletic problem solving of the immediate situation presented to you by a jumble of holds, the movement, the stillness, breathing.
The latest trip inspired all of the above. Steph and I headed out to Vantage one more time before she leaves for Alaska for the entirety of the summer. We were met in full force by the entire (almost) climbing community of Olympia huddled around a fire at half past midnight. Late to bed and early to rise was the ritual despite self inflicted wounds, liberal amounts of libations, and a rag tag band that had the entire amphitheatre rocking.
The morning was quite pleasant. Sunny but cool and calm. We hiked to the Riverview crag and spent the entire day there, ticking one route after the other. We had 12-13 people in total so we pretty much took over this small stretch of Cliffside basalt. I was psyched out of mind to be climbing again after a week of work and no climbing. I started out with some easy tens and then moved on to some more challenging routes. I tried to go for the onsight of this .11a but I’m still pretty scared of taking lead falls. I got into the crux but refused to move my feet up and lurch towards the victory jug. Took a hang, figured out some beta that would work for me, rehearsed a bit. Then got back on it after a break and fired it off. I repeated this same routine for another .11a that was slightly more challenging than the first. The crux was pretty technical and involved some smearing, which I had to do with my knee, but I was able to fire this one off second go as well (and also due in large part to a strategic long draw placement, which took a bit of the difficulty away). All in all I was climbing a ton and to be surrounded on all sides by my friends was just like hanging out at the gym. Zingers were tossed around like midgets in a seedy bar scene, and the constant ribbing was also intermingled with sincere bouts of encouragement. After a short lunch break in the baking sun I flailed on a couple routes before finding a perfect fit. In the middle of the crag there stood a prominent line that looked of 4 star quality. After watching Steve go for the onsight andn then blow it at the chains (doh!), I sat back and watched as Boone and Troy pitched off of the same move at the very top (where it got steeper and slightly more desperate). I thought I should probably try to avenge my fallen comrades so I buckled my seat belt and prepared for a bumpy ride. The first boulder problem right off the ground was sick! You started by bear hugging two side pulls. With a high foot you make a catch yourself move on a sweet bird bath jug. A couple of cranks from here leads to small holds then a perch on a good foot and the overhang. Slopey but good holds funneled me right into a big move for a shark tooth. Unfortunately I had to do a one arm pull up here in order to finish the route and that was just not happening. I fell! Ahhhhh! I clipped chains and got lowered and thought to myself, “Self, we should try that again.” I got back on it and got spanked again at the same spot! Sheesh, this time I used my ‘projecting’ skills to suss out better beta. My third attempt was still desperate but I managed to match the shark tooth and pull my way to screaming victory! After all that fuss, Laura stepped up and flashed it calmly only to put all of the men in their rightful place.
We climbed from 9 in the morning to 5 in the evening. Ha! A real 9-5 job if I do say so myself. And after slouching in camp chairs we sluggishly moved into action on the dinner front. Chilled champagne was passed around and eventually a birthday cake was produced in honor of our friend Steve’s 26th birthday. As more and more food was starting to make the rounds instruments appeared and the underground Oly band materialized with hints of apprehension that soon turned into alcohol fueled fits of melodious melancholy sprinkled with the harmony of the fireside peanut gallery. The Oly underground band (composed of Steve, Troy, Boone, Laura, and whoever the hell else can play a guitar/instrument of any kind) is also informally known as ‘Sexual Healing’ otherwise known as the ‘The Great Bird of Prey’. They were awesome and provided an element to the camp fire that is unmatched by any other form of entertainment, that I know of, thus far. Bravo!

Tieton is a Kingly Name

2011-04-28T16:38:00.000-07:00

Well, it is hardly news now. I’ve been climbing in my boot. Hooray!
Last weekend was a great trip out to Tieton. This place is really just one good time. Not only was I able to climb one of the most stellar 75 foot 5.10a’s in the state (naked), I also got a reverse jersey sun burn! Thwarting ticks and spiteful rattlesnakes that nipped at our naughty bits, we played in the sun on several excellent lines at Lava Point, The Chunkyard, Dream Wall, and The Cave (the highest concentration of rattlesnakes were found here).

Tieton is such a kingly name, and indeed, this area has very little in the way of futuristic lines with mindboggling grades that launch our sense of what’s possible into the stratosphere, but is a kingly place indeed. The valley stretches out for miles and the Tieton River rolls right alongside highway 12, tempting rafters, waders, campers, and fishermen alike. Certain areas have an alpine feel, while others are downright exposed, windy, and uncomfortably (or comfortably) hot/cold! The rock type is basalt, jumbled holds make for confusing onsights in some instances, and in others the face climbing and features are sublimely straightforward.

Dream Wall is a overhung jug paradise. The routes are junky looking, but climb really well and are LONG! The belay stations are wonderful and the afternoon/evening sun is refreshing. Take it from me, this is a quiet little crag that provides a perfect opportunity to let it all hang out.

Lava Wall is just one classic stretch of rock. The thin ledge can be a bit bothersome, but once you get situated, you don’t really think of it and you just climb. The sun absolutely bakes this place from the morning until late afternoon. But the routes are long, the sequences vary from complex to agonizingly straightforward and there are some gems to be found here. The rock is gas pocketed basalt in some places, and bullet hard basalt in others. The far left side of the crag has one of the best 5.11d’s I’ve ever tried, and the middle section is bursting at the seams with excellent 5.10’s and 5.11’s.

The Chunkyard is a new area not found in the guide book. Just a small walk up from Moon Rocks (which is accessed by a foot bridge across the mighty Tieton) the Chunkyard is a nice outcropping of rock. Highway 12 can be heard constantly (especially when a local is taking his gun powder fueled rage out on the nearest mountainside), but the routes take your focus off of the traffic below. The rock is jumbled basalt streaked with neon yellow lichen. MANY options for hand holds and feet are found on each route, but usually the line emerges and is quite good. I only climbed three lines here but enjoyed them all thoroughly. Much thanks to the guys equipping this wall, I could tell a lot of work has gone into making this a safe wall for climbing.

The Cave is just a steep hike from the road and opens you up to an area that varies in difficulty and style. We were greeted by an elk carcass on our way up the winding trail (I’m assuming it was a victim of the terribly angry rattlesnakes that terrorize all that cross their path). The left side of the crag (the first part you come to) has short sport climbs on semi-pillars. The rock is bullet hard with edges and side pulls, but the routes are STOUT! I warmed up on a 5.8 that felt like 5.11, sheesh! I did manage a 5.10 there that was awesome! Edges and small ledges with a sweet boulder problem start. The right side of the crag is long and boasts a high concentration of routes in the 5.11 range that are all 3-4 star classics. The rock in this area is broken and jumbled basalt, but the tops of most of the climbs finish on rock that is like no other I have climbed on. High textured bullet hard basalt that is streaked with bright orange lichen, beautiful. The far right side has a couple 12’s and some 11’s but the rock is pretty crumbly. However the routes for the most part climb quite well and the Live Oaks in this part of the crag offer some shade if the sun is ablaze.

Well, there you have it. Besides getting stuck in the mud and subsequently pulled out by our neighbors at the free camping who looked at me and nodded before driving over to my car where it sat with one half of the front wheel hopelessly submerged in a thick sweaty black paste, the trip was a great success. The young man whose mercy I threw myself upon, baseball hat cocked to one side, dropped his tail gate, and there; as if he had been waiting all day for me to come along and get stuck no more than 50 yards from where they camped in a black lagoon, sat all of the equipment needed to pull ANYthing out of a mud hole. I went from slightly annoyed, to livid, to scared, to standing next to my mud splattered Forester sheepishly grinning and holding out a couple beers to my new best friend. Other highlights include trying to start a fire with wet wood, star gazing, and climbing with ten of my friends in a very beautiful setting.
Thanks everyone for making this last trip a great one. Looking forward to this weekend and Vantage!

Getting Comfortable Being Uncomfortable

2011-04-18T17:18:00.000-07:00

My latest romp into the wild occurred last weekend. Leavenworth was on the menu, but I was very uneasy about trying to boulder with a boot (leading 5.10 is one thing, falling from 6-8 feet while sketching out on a V.3 is another). Besides, the weather was bad on Friday anyway so we just kept driving until we saw the Feathers. The weather in Vantage was overcast and cold, but we managed to get in two amazing pitches before settling down into the back of the old Forester and setting some wood on fire.
This was the first time I felt that death grip enter my body because of the lack of warm blood getting into my extremities. The holds on the first route were cold! A sweet little arête with crimps. Lovely climbing, and I managed to get the send, but my heart was pumping. Next up we got on the super, mega, ultra classic Satan’s Little Helper. It’s the best 5.9 in the state, and it was under our noses the whole time. Nestled in the back corner of the Feathers, this lovely face climb is slightly overhung and ends on a beautiful sequence of flat crimper rails. I was a little more than pumped coming down but very psyched. We fled to the car after this one, seeing as how it was already 8:00 at night.

The next day we rose early and hit the Feathers hard before any of the crowds showed up. I managed to get in 7 pitches, including a really nice 5.10a that started on some amazing holds on bomber rock and ended on an overhang on slightly less desirable rock. Plus, you had to top it out! What a rush it was slinging my foot over the lip and standing on a slanted ramp with my boot as I grunted and growled my way to victory. Despite the ‘loose’ holds on the overhanging part of this route, it was amazing. I also did the best 5.9 in the world 2 or 3 more times because it is just THAT good.

It’s funny. I find myself saying “That was the best route ever!”, or “That might have been the best 5.9 I’ve ever done!” A LOT lately. Slowing down, climbing routes that are below my skill level, and paying attention to details, small sequences, and my surroundings have been some of the most amazing gifts this injury has given me. I have a newfound appreciation for ALL levels of climbing now, and an overall newfound love for climbing period. Before this giant boot was a part of my life, climbing was only fun when I was really pushing myself to achieve some unthinkable feat. A climbing trip was deemed ‘a waste’ if I came away from it with only 5.11’s and below. Now, I’m psyched to just climb anything. Every time I can get to the chains is a chance to rejoice and celebrate the fact that I’m outside, I’m engaged in an activity that I love, in a place that I love, with people that I love (or strongly like). Climbing in itself should be the reward, and climbing at higher levels shouldn’t erase the holism that exists in the experience of climbing. Of course I want to climb hard routes (they are usually the best lines at the crag (define ‘best’ please?!)), but if I can’t I wouldn’t want that to ruin climbing for me. I think what I have realized is that I don’t need to be in the best shape of my life, or climbing the hardest routes I have ever climbed to enjoy and appreciate the act of climbing, and that is true love. I’m not looking at climbing to fulfill some missing piece of me. Self-fulfillment is my job, climbing is just an added bonus.

Back to the trip report. We finished up at the Feathers with another amazing 5.10a on the front side and then saw a big blue van pull into the camp site. It was Joe and Aimee there to accompany us on what was turning out to be a very beautiful day. Lazy white clouds drifted across the bright blue sky, and tufts of green and light green dotted the landscape. Vantage at this time of year is very beautiful and not the dry and dusty hot plate it can normally be during the summer months. It was good to see friends and we immediately set off to the Zig Zag crag. Unfortunately 20 other people had the same idea, a lot earlier than us, so we just kept walking. We got on top of the mesa and I suggested we keep walking along the rim in order to get to a sweet crag I had climbed at last year.

We stumbled upon a descent trail and luckily found the Clearview crag. A stellar little stretch of basalt that is home to some short but sweet sport climbs in the 5.6-5.11 range. It was Aimee’s first time out so Joe got to work showing her the ropes (oh, I do love puns), and I got to work trying to figure out which routes looked doable with one foot. I was a little out of my comfort zone here. Most of the climbs I had done were easy to read, with obvious jugs all over the place. This crag was slightly more confusing. Holds, or potential holds, were everywhere, and they weren’t necessarily all jugs.

I finally just gave up trying to find an ‘easy way out’ and decided to go for this pretty cool looking 5.10c. I was nervous, but as I started the climb I just learned to get in a rhythm, and keep going. Since I have the boot, I don’t really want to take any falls, so my plan of action if I got into a tight spot was to make sure I could always down climb o the last clip. Fortunately, I didn’t have to do that on this route. It started out slow, juggy, and then near the top there were some big pulls on good holds, one big move off of a crimp, and I was shakily clipping the chains. Man! What a confidence booster! 10.c onsight in the boot! I felt amazing, very pumped, but amazing. The sun was ablaze in the sky, with a slight breeze in the air, and I decided to go for another .10c. This one was really bouldery at the start with minimal feet. I fought my way to the second clip utilizing one of the coolest four finger slot features I’ve seen on this type of rock, and just kept going. I made a sketchy clip on a wrap, and then right as I was starting to peel off found a good flat crimp and made it to easier ground. I was even more psyched to have this one in the bag since the start seemed so improbable.

The day was just getting better and better. I sat down with the guide and started head hunting. I saw another .10c farther down the crag that was given 4 stars. I had to do it! This would prove to be the biggest battle, and unfortunately I lost. The line was amazing though. An open book with cool slopey features. I wish I would have been able to utilize the stem in some places because it would have made some spots a lot easier. I managed to get to the top but not without a few down climbs and “Takes!” to rest. Joe and Aimee caught up with us and we went around the corner and did a very interesting 5.9. I say ‘interesting’ because it really made me think, in a good way, about how to unravel the next sequence. I’ve really had to make crucial and sometimes uncomfortable adjustments to the way I view climbs because of my ‘giant plastic robot foot’. I managed the onsight but it was gripping in some places because of how technical it was. The day was winding down. The dogs were getting thirsty, and my pallid skin was starting to look like a boiled lobster.
I checked the guide book one more time and spotted a couple lines to the left of us that looked promising. I sat and stared at the beginning of this 5.11b for what seemed like an eternity before coaxing myself to do it, and believing that I had worked out a one footed sequence. I made the first clip off the ground and then launched into ‘go’ mode. I made it halfway to the next clip before I realized this was not going to happen. I came back down and rested. I tried once more with the same result. The hold I was trying to crank off of was just too stretched for me. I spotted what looked like a sloper from the ground, but it was really the only option I could see that would grant me passage past the opening boulder problem. So, after some hand wringing and much-needed hand holding I broke free from my hesitation and went for it. I pulled through the first series of slimpers and when I got to the point I had been falling at I lunged out right grasping/hoping for a good edge to materialize on top of the slopey feature I was putting all my money on. Success!! It had a nice edge tucked way back on its balding precipice and I clung to it with hawk like strength. I was so scared of falling at this point I shuffled my legs as high as I could get them and stood on the crimpers below. I looked up and right and lurched towards a jug just barely nabbing it by the ear. I made the clip, and moved on to easier ground. The rest of the climb was 5.8, thank god!
I would be more proud of this ascent if it had been a real continuous fight, but it was a pretty typical Vantage 5.11b (meaning it had a boulder problem start to a 5.8). Still, in my condition, I was happy to have this in the bag and to finish off a great trip with another cool send. We had started climbing at 8:30 in the morning. It was now 5:00, and we were ready to head home. I was sad to see the sun setting behind us as we drove straight into the mouth of a rainstorm, but also pleased to have another climbing trip under my belt, and even more pleased with the confidence I had cultivated over the past ten days.
The last two trips to Vantage have been by far some of the most entertaining and morale boosting experiences. I have spent so much time lately laying around healing and feeling like I would never return to normalcy and these trips have been just what the doctor ordered (not literally though)!

First Route in the Boot!

2011-04-11T13:25:00.000-07:00

I couldn't decide if people would stop and stare and then shake their heads in disgust, or if people would stop and stare and take pity on the injured wiener dog that tried enthusiastically to pull himself up the hill; his useless hindlegs cradled in the fabricated two wheeled cart behind him.

I drove up over and through the Snoqualmie Valley leaving thick rain clouds and wet snow behind me in order to embrace the loving rays of the sun, that has decided to call the East it's home. With a lot of encouragement from Steph, and a last minute decision, we decided to meet our firends at Vanatage for this years first outdoor climbing trip. I was 3 weeks and 4 days post surgery and a tad ambivalent about hiking and climbing around outside. But, I decided to suck it up and give being outside a chance.
The last three weekends I had spent watching movies and trying not to think about all of the beautiful weather I was missing in destinations like this one. We arrived at the main campground around 4 in the afternoon and to my surprise it wasn't all that crowded. The sun felt so good on my skin as we hiked the short distance up to the Feathers. I was a little self concious of my plastic boot, but I looked over the first route and decided to give it a whirl. A really sweet 5.9 arete that follows some excellent flat jugs up to a small slab. I grabbed and hopped, grabbed and hopped, and finally found myself at the top. I was pretty gassed but very happy. A few calculated risks and I was able to clip the chains of my first outdoor route for the year 2011. Hooray for me!
I followed it up by leading a 5.8 and then swallowed my fears and did a short but steep 5.10a. So far this was turning into a great trip. I was ecstatic to have the feel of reel rock under my hands; something I was afraid wouldn't happen for at least another month and a half. We eventually saw the 5 figures of our friends make their way to the campsite and we headed down to greet them.

Another major part of a climbing trip that I thoroughly enjoy is the campfire banter!! I laughed so hard, it was great to be outside in my element surrounded by friendly faces. The next day was more of the same. I led a few routes at the ZigZag crag, and then finished the day by top roping a couple 5.10b's (that looked a little too technical for my one footed technique) and managed to flash one and get the other one with a hang or two. I also re-learned the magic that is toproping. As much as I love leading I had forgotten how much top roping can make you focus simply on the rock and the movement of a climb. We spent all day at the ZigZag crag ticking almost every route the crag had to offer. It was another great day but I was glad to be headed back home. My knee and my upper body are both in need of a rest day.

The Evergreen Gym

2011-04-06T15:44:00.001-07:00

Woah, the Evergreen gym. SO many fond memories. In fact, the absolute birth place of the inspiration that lead to my climbing career (part 2). I used to work in the TESC climbing gym. For nearly three and a half years I inhaled stale sweat, chalk dust, normal dust, and patchouli oil. I dragged giant foam mats from one corner to the next and got blisters on my finger tips from screwing and unscrewing countless holds from the plywood paradise painted grey which transformed an ordinary racquetball court into a rock jockeys artificial play ground.

My first memory of the rock gym was stepping inside of the musty dimly lit room after a basketball game. I had just started attending TESC and was more interested in getting in good with the basketball coach then I was with trolling local climbers for beta on the best crags. I took a look around and on the next trip up to Seattle I made a point to look through my old climbing gear and find a pair of shoes and a chalk bag. Upon my next trip to the climbing gym I donned a pair of Anasazi Mocasyms (the red slippers) that I hadn't worn since I was 14, an old CG chalk bag, and my usual basketball attire. I traversed around and even got to set a problem. The people in the gym were extremely nice and welcoming. The atmosphere was a good one and I remembered why I had fallen in love with climbing all those years ago. So, I started climbing again. From that point on I would show up on a regular weekly basis. Basketball still took priority, but every now and then I would stop in at the rock wall and try to throw down on the latest problem. I met a lot of people who were continuously stoked on climbing and improving their skills. Travis, Daniel, Eligh, to name a few. Travis was really the catalyst bahind the Olympia climbing community at Evergreen having people over on a weekly basis to watch the latest climbing flick, eat good food, drink, and just talk climbing. A year went by and I finally started to garner a wage by coming into the gym, setting routes, and just climbing and encouraging other people to climb (ahh, the cycle continues).

The gym was always kind of a thorn in the side of the College's recreational budget and never really got the kind of attention it deserved without some severe teeth pulling by the student organizations that begged and pleaded for money. We did however manage to get $5,000 worth of holds one year and boy was that like Christmas everyday.

As time went on I started to meet more and more people just by working and climbing in the gym. I never went downtown to the Warehouse Rock gym at this point, I was too enamored with the tall grey walls of 'my' gym (affectionately 'my' gym). For almost a year I climbed solely inside before I finally was invited on a Smith Rock climbing trip. As I met more and more people the inevitable happened and I found myself drenched in terror and quick draws over-gripping my way up some real rock. It took a few trips but I eventually caught the real-rock-bug and became an outdoor junky. This only made me want to improve so I could climb the dream lines outside (and impress my friends). I started to set more and more in the Eevergreen gym. I can remember when I was the only one setting, besides a few others, and I had full creative range. I would try and set anything that I thought would stop me, but was doable. I became a bit selfish with what I would set and I started setting 'projects' (back then a project was in the V.6/7 range) specifically tailored to the kind of movement I enjoyed or found challenging. I set long circuits of V.3-V.5/6 traverses and would try to link them into one another for endurance training (this definitely became one of my favorite activities in the gym). My favorite wall in the gym was our 45. It was short, but utilised correctly, you could really get strong on this thing. I would try and plaster every t-nut with crimps on the 45 and just go around and around until I couldn't close my hands. Such good times!

The best sessions in the gym consisted of Dom, Nick, Jimmy and myself all sessioning the sick futuristic lines I was trying to envision and bring to life. The gym had a sort of intimate feel to it somedays, almost an exclusivity to it that when talking of where you climbed made one puff up there chest and declare "I train at the Evergreen gym" (maybe that was just me?).

My boulder problems and traverses started to gain notoriety within the small community drawing suitors from every corner of Olympia (okay, it was more like a few of my friends that I would spray endlessly too about my problems until they finally came to try them out of sympathy). The first major boulder problem (really a traverse) was Black Beauty. It was only V.6 (more like a .12c route) but it took me ages to finally get the send. Nick, Jimmy, and Dom were all fighting for the second third and fourth ascents and soon it was falling on a regular basis. I can remember when Jimmy came in for the first time since I had started setting hard boulder problems and made a flash ascent of Slap Face which was shutting everyone down at the time. I met Laura and Dom through this gym, and Nick was an old time gym goer who I met through the gym's guru Travis. The people I met through the Eevrgreen gym are still my climbing partners to this day!

I loved this gym, and have easily climbed and set some of the hardest and most classic boulder problems of my entire life. Some of the problems I remember the most were 'Knock Out Mouse' (V.7), 'Chemical Cat' (V.8), 'Triton's Daughters' (V.7), 'Poisoned Catalyst' (V.6), 'The New Hotness' (V.9), 'Where the Sidewalk Ends'(V.10/11), and 'I've Got Mono'(V.4, probably the best boulder problem I have EVER set). There are so many more amazing problems that this gym has given birth to, but I just can't remember them all.

Finally, time took it's toll on the gym. No money was being spent on maintenance, the walls started to get worn down, and the large foam mattresses started hemorrhaging foam to the point to where they were not as fun to land on anymore. I finally gave up my post as caretaker and moved on to a more professional setting and the gym fell into obscurity. I started setting at the Warehouse and eventually just forgot abut the gym and it's golden years.

I have been going to the Evergreen weight room lately and noticed that the TESC Rock Gym has finally received funding to install brand new certified rock gym floors!! A HUGE step forward for this gym. Now, all they need to do is buy all new holds, re-finish and patch the existing walls, re-t-nut the entire gym, add new lighting, and install a ventilation system and it will be all good. But I guess new floors is a decent start. I owe a lot to this little gym. It has changed my life. I can honestly say that I probably would not be where I am today, know the people I know, or enjoy life as much as I do if the Evergreen gym had not existed. And for that, I salute you!

Creating Your Own Reality

2011-03-29T10:37:00.000-07:00

And so it began.
Or ended, rather. Not important; unless you count the way it happened. I'm not of course, but to light upon the tips of this rigor mortis-inducing tale could be another type of harrowing adventure. It's simply too much to ask of someone to paint themselves into a corner; but the corner could actually be a meadow, or a sea, or a desert, or the deep dark whole of space stretching out endlessly, cat-like. I dare say it happened rather fast. Or slow, as time can be re-counted in a myriad of ways over a stretch of imagination that is never-ending in the realms of our minds-eye. And in that sense there is no beginning, nor an end. There just is. And so it came to be. Convulsing, twirling, slowly dripping, yawning, jibbering, tumbling; flushed with vibrations of pulsating color exploding throughout the channels of the body. The difference between existence and existing. A framework with no frame. No way of 'knowing'; and to that it became no less evil or good for the sake of just being.

Suchers Be Gone!

2011-03-28T12:13:00.000-07:00

Above is a picture of the heinous incision that was made to restore my misbehaving tendon. A major milestone in the healing process comes in two days when I get the suchers out. I'm so stoked. Even though my leg won't be recognizable as a 'leg' for a few weeks it will be nice to have these buttons taken off of my skin shirt. So far everything is going well. I've been pretty mobile, getting out on a two mile walk, going dancing, etc. etc. I've tried working out a few times, nothing major yet, just trying to take it easy and promote healing as much as possible. I definitely have days where I feell like this: But, don't let that scare you away. All I need is a little encouragement and a lot more time. The weather has turned amazing lately (amazing for me means it's warmer, not necessarily drier), and when the sun comes out it's like Spring/Summer. The air is different, it's not as bitter anymore, opting instead for a more fragrant garb. The kind newly budding plants wear. March comes to a close and I have a long month ahead of me, with (hopefully) some light at the end of the tunnel. By the end of April, if everything goes according to plan, I should be free of my boot and walking in normal shoes again (hell, maybe even a little light jogging?). In the meantime I have been bombarding myself with the cancerous rays of the television, LOTS of internet climbing porn, and bill juggling. The return to work last week was nothing less than unorgasmic and I have been really focused on what it is I want to pursue after my contract expires. Its hard to focus on those things whilst pining away for normalcy. Anyway, hope all is good with everyone. See you around.

Movie Time Part 2! Double Hooray!!

2011-03-23T22:33:00.000-07:00

YES: this is the greatest climbing movie you will EVER see.
NO: this is not a professionally made anything...
PLEASE: crack a beer (or Kombucha), sit back and hopefully you won't fall asleep a few minutes into this (fingers crossed).

Movie Time! Hooray!

2011-03-22T20:01:00.000-07:00

Okay, okay, OKAY!

I know I'm like 4 months late for this one but hey, I've got a lot of extra time on my hands (or should I say feet? Or foot?).

The above video is a gathering of clips I shot from the last trip to Bishop (Thanksgiving 2010). I was experimenting with the use of my new tri-pod, so somethings came out okay, others not so much. You get the idea. It was a wicked trip, filled with amazing sends every day, and even more good times with friends.

Wish You Were Here

2011-03-17T19:49:00.000-07:00

A couple of weeks ago a whole herd of Olympians got out to celebrate life like a bunch of ether-sniffing monks worshipping some invisible cosmic mandala. The rituals took place at Goldmyer hotsprings, a short drive from North bend. The road, while treacherous and covered in asteroid-esque pot holes and impassably slick snow, proved to be more than an insurmountable task leaving many of us stranded 10 miles from the trail head. Luckily we have friends with high clearance and chains and the will to shuttle chunks of our group from where we stopped to where the trail began. 4.5 miles of post holing later and we were greeted by a caretaker who gave us a white bucket and pointed towards the last leg of our journey as if she was Death herself directing us to where we could set up shop for eternity. One last hill stomp and we were there. A plush triple pool populated by abesent minded absinth sippers in nothing more than slippers and the skin they rode in on.
We bathed for hours. We bathed like it was 1999. We bathed until our noses had been saturated by molecules of sulphur, leaving only standing room in our hairy caverns, and slouching room in our moist lungs. Muscles limp, asses smacked at random. Naked snow angels, stars winking in the distance as if to say "Hey there, how about that full moon?". We were nothing more than a display in a Christmas window. Foggy glass, fake snow littering the ground, and naked cherubs worshipping at the altar. Nymphs in Pan's lair. Suckling from the wine bladder, mouths agape, minds warped.

I slept well that night. Only awakened by the screech and gong of a pair of mating owl crys. They had gotten a whiff of what was in the air and decided to descend upon one another like club-drunk snow monkeys embracing the inferno that burned from within pulsating like the beat of a disco.

The following day was slightly torturous. Suffering from the severe pain in my leg, dehydration, and exhaustion I lost more than a few calories on the way back to the car and decided that Chai-spice tea is not better the second time around (nor is bacon, eggs, salsa, and un-cooked hashbrowns posing as mozzarella).

We did make it to the Harmon brewery in Tacoma in time to eat a couple of baskets of bottomless fish and chips before they decided to re-attach the bottom.

All in all, an amazing time.

A couple of days ago I recieved some long-awaited information regarding my Achilles tendon. The doctor, after reviewing my MRI, came into the examination room and sat down next to me. I guess he thought I wasn't expecting to hear him say "It's a complete tear". Boy was he wrong. Luckily they scheduled me for surgery the very next day and voila! I am now comfortably sporting a large incision on the inside of my right leg and a newly repaired Achilles tendon. I am SO psyched that I am finally healing in a positively influenced direction. After the nerve block wore off I was reduced to a quivering pile of goo. Writhing in pain like a snake in the garden of Eden. Thank Science for tiny white pills that make you feel as if your 5 years old again licking the frosting from your grandmothers mixing bowl while a warm breeze blows up your Umbro's giving you feelings you can't quite attach to memory yet.
I'm on day 3, and the good news is that I have been able to shed my crutches and bear weight on my injured foot. I'll be wearing this cumbersome boot for a total of 6 weeks, but after that, it's back to tennis shoes and hopefully some light bike riding. Another 2-4 weeks and I'll be able to jog. Hopefully by the start of June I'll be climbing again!!
So, just make sure you strectch before playing basketball. Or better yet, just don't playt basketball. Stick to the mountains, the rocks, the water and the wild flower covered meadows where you can twirl in a bleach white apron singing about the musically opressed cities of Austria.
For now, I will be here. I wish you all could join me.
Oh yeah, I'm going to be religiously participating in rain dances for the next 8 weeks so I don't miss out on any NW climbing. Sorry.

Assignments #3

2011-03-08T14:40:00.000-08:00

He strode into the room with confidence. His shirt un-tucked, smelling of sweat, sex, and stale alcohol. He could feel the crust in the corners of his mouth but refused to drag the backside of his hand across the desert of his face. In a tangential sort of way, he dug in his nose inspecting his jaque custeau’esque treasure smiling at him on the end of a dirty slender finger nail like a worm in a rotten apple at his last right. He flicked the rotten invertebrate into oblivion and proceeded to slowly walk towards the mauve colored roofless prison. His shoebox was comfortable. He sank into his chair; folding the white paper tissue around his shoulders and head. Unlacing, curling into a ball. His swivel chair turned slightly to face the entrance of his voluntary cage. His slow revolution was like 15 inches of wax, caught on a steel plate, awaiting the sting of a needle and the deep base of an amp. Music gurgling forth like vomit making its way up a one way street.
Softly tickling the esophageal cells; tip toeing down the stairs in watery one-sy dotted with pictures of carrots and peas. Exploding at the site of the Virgin Mary condemned to spend her holidays atop this glitter glam horror show paying homage to her passion-less life. Electricity pulsating through her shell of a body. She wanted to fall 6 feet and smash into a thousand pieces exposing wires and a chaotic glimpse of spending the night on a cot with your mother’s arm slowly rubbing your back while whispers creep over your shoulder and bang against the stubborn waxy build up that refuses to let reality in.
His evaluation was today.
He couldn’t think straight and began to tap his toes against the shiny plastic incasing his cubicle desk. He was perched on his ass and heels looking like a disgruntled vulture ready to swoop down and make everyone sorry for making him feel like a necrophiliac. He looked crumpled, but in a fastidious sort of way; as if he had been attacked by a drive-by professional Hollywood make-up crew. He picked at a scabbed over pimple on his chin; striking ooze he celebrated by shooting a perfect rainbow 3 pointer with the hardened crust.
The cows in the barn started to stir. They had detected a disturbance in sector 9 and were ready to gear up for an all out assault on the invader. The Commander was all up in arms about a difficult episode she had suffered over the weekend with her children. Now full grown, the Commander needn’t beg for attention. Instead she shoved her bovine hips into an unsuspecting conversation, the gaze of which fell on a different section of the star spectrum but nonetheless found itself being shifted to the quadrant the commander felt deserved attention. She was a gluttonous pile of excrement. A walking receptacle of toxins and poisonous mental treats left for the neighbor’s cat. She baited the innocent with her weight and used gamey elbows that dug into your side like a cowboy riding his steed hard in order to get back to that one prostitute that made him feel as if the world was worth going insane for from the gonorrhea. Her large nostrils flared and a combination of snot and hot pursuit dripped from her cavernous orifices. She became elated at the fact that the fox had finally made his way into the galactic barnyard.
The game they played was like watching a herd of wildebeests. Frantic and impatient, skittish yet firm. Dust drifting into the African atmosphere from bristle thick hair, on edge as the peak of their blunt noses dipped into the placid luke-warm waters of the wicked watering hole. The snap of the alligators snout crushing veins, bones, ligaments, tendons, and puncturing flesh and skin was like the sound of a bullwhip. In the second that it took to realize what had happened the immense fear was rippling through the herd like signals traveling at light speed down the mylenated sheath of axons and nerves. The afternoon sun pushed through the curtain of disturbed earth blown into the lazy motionless safari scene. A grey muscled leg kicks for a foothold as warm blood soaks the ground.
The restless hot herd re-settled yards from the crime-scene, literally keeping one eye on the attack zone while turning from side to side.

Assignments #2

2011-03-08T14:36:00.000-08:00

Come on now little guy, let that instinct kick in! He nearly stopped the car. You know, that instinct NOT to get run over by a large moving object? Instead he opted to stay laying in the cold and damp gutter. Shallow as it was, coated in asphalt and the stench of broken dreams-which strangely resembled the aroma of several county fairs he had been to- he pawed uselessly at the curb before realizing he would have to get up sooner or later. Or, someone would have to come GET him up. He contemplated the fact that whatever city, town, or hamlet he happened to find himself in, operated very much like that of the human cell. A living organism, programmed to remove useless build up-waste-and was filled with macromolecules that had jobs; would never tire of their jobs, and really were working in order to disintegrate and become the removable waste some of them worked so hard to rid the cell of.

A little girl on her way to school stopped on the sidewalk yards away from where his crumpled body lay, and began to move slowly up the path, continuing on her original course, but at a slower more astonished pace. She stared wide eyed at the dark figure; limbs askew, head to one side, draped in remorse and a vulgar looking overcoat spotted with mud and grease. She finally passed the car crash of a man and sped up as soon as the seemingly un-safe part of her passage was no more of a threat. He did not notice. He was growing increasingly aware of the cold, discomfort, and reverberating pain in his side. Oh enough!
This exclamation triggered him to rise like some image of a vagabond living dead, destined to roam the streets in search of living flesh, or spare change. He bent a crooked leg underneath himself and straightened it, propelling him upwards towards the morning sky. The pale light left a shrinking darkness from the night before and exploded into existence behind trees and fences. He pulled his overcoat around his neck and head and wished he could return to the squeaky bar stool from the night before. The look on his face-pallid, somber, still; left something to be desired in the story it wished to tell. Images of the night before came like flash backs, each one in small doses of which he could only bare for increasingly smaller amounts of time before the probing paranoia smashed them into bits and pieces. Unrecognizable, colliding, he recollected the increasingly vague interactions he had with the floating heads at the bar.
For some reason he remembered shaking a lot of people’s hands, but that didn’t seem quite right to him, since he hadn’t shook someone’s hand since he was 16 and was forced into the niceties of receiving condolences at his father’s funeral. But, there it was, glaring at him, the memory of the night before, surrounded by witches and gargoyles and him, sticking out his hand at everyone with a stupid grin on his face waiting for the exuberant gesture to shake him back to reality. However, the only thing he stuck his hand out for was a drink. And now, he did not desire to shake anyone’s hand, especially the bar tenders. Just thinking of the sweet acidic dark bubbly brown liquid made his temples throb with swollen expectations and he was not aware of the fact that he began to massage his forehead and place his cold extremities on the back of his neck. Temporary relief. More visions of dancing and acting like a fool. At first cool, calm, collected, and then silly, ridiculous, and childish. His words sprang from his mouth like children at the lunch time bell. Limbs flailing, chaotic, rambunctious. He wondered why people like drinking so much. He figured it was because the majority of people-at least the majority of people he encountered in his life-were very good at projecting what they thought people wanted to see, and spoke almost exclusively without letting their guards down.
In the presence of a few empty pint glasses people were less reluctant to placate one another and instead let emotions pour out of them like beer from a tap. Or, became so self-involved that they began to say things they didn’t mean and wondered why no one got their jokes. This was usually a symptom of feeling as if you were being attacked and, for him, ended in a lot of yelling and terrible looks from across the fire. Uhh. He had to stop and shake off that Monday morning feeling. His brain felt two times too big for his own skull. A pulsating throbbing feeling that crept out of the darkness of one of the corners of his mind and attached itself to the front of his face. It humped the back of his throat until hunger shook itself awake and began to gnaw at his good intentions as well. Nausea and hunger were locked in a lethal battle. Both hands frantically clutched head and stomach like nurse maids they hovered about each appendage hopping from extremity to extremity.

Assignments

2011-03-08T14:26:00.000-08:00

His gaze was unwavering, focused yet untoward. He could smash the things in his life to pieces. The same things that brought him so much pleasure; maybe even the things that provided him with a reason to become so destructive in the first place. But the feeling of sleep rushed over him like a warm breeze. It was a strong drug. Nearly impossible to fight off, yet it was a feeling that was welcome and fitting. The wrong atmosphere no doubt but still a good feeling. He felt it fill his veins, his muscles became slouched and lazy. Effort was drained from him like the blood in a skinned game kill, slowly, dripping in the end but finalized by the creepy persistence of gravity influencing the tiny red molecules to aggregate and descend.

It sustained him. It goaded him to think and force action and thought in to his life. It did not come easily; kicking and screaming. It would not go easily; pleading and begging.
The rows of trees in his mind’s eye stretched out beyond his imagination into some dark abyss before disappearing altogether. Rays of sunlight enlivened the dull and grey scenery set out before him like some guest arriving late to a funeral. The soft earth sat in a mound upon the freshly broken and filled plot of land. His face was wrenched into an uncomfortable pose of questioning contortions and wrinkling concentration. His overcoat slumped over one arm, dangling helplessly like a lifeless corpse. He ran slim fingers through dark thinning hair and tucked a stringy length of lock behind one ear. He was still damp, but it had stopped raining some time ago. The glints of sunlight bedazzled the landscape that lay covered in the rainstorms moist gift, each bead of fallen rain now a droplet of jeweled refracting light. Bending upon entrance, flashing spectral colors, providing bright faces that appeared in a flash and wilted away as the sun dipped behind clouds cloaking itself in the garments of the atmosphere. He could not bear to stand and gaze upon her earthen demeanor any longer.
His eyes fluttered from her grave to the rolling hills in the distance and a grin crept over his empty room like a sun beam, as if to blind him to the gut wrenching agony of knowing he could never have her again. She belonged to him no more than he belonged to the world, but in a sense of physical longing the emotion swept over him and he fought it off with clear discomfort. There was nothing in front of him to grab, to tear, or punch and kick. He could not reason with this swirling blackness; this invisible scourge that robbed him. His time and effort were of no consequence to the amount of meaningless dribble that wooed her spirit and warmed her soul. She was so much a part of him and instantaneously ripped away, like separating a limb from the friendly clockwork of the body. He felt naked and inadequate and was not entirely sure of the motives behind why he chose to suddenly materialize on this cloudy day at this celebration of life and condemnation of death. He did not understand. Why was she suddenly gone?
A black bird cawed in the distance. He saw it land on the branch of a nearby Maple, naked, shaking flecks of dew from its oily wings. The bird cocked its head to one side and in a twitching fashion darted a beady black eye in his direction. The small silky black shadow perched delicately and heavily on the sinewy branch of the slowly dying tree, cawed again. He itched his beak with a shoulder of a wing and dug deep into his armpit for a warm mite, nestled amongst the grease and stink, away from the damp outer world. Content to burrow deeper into the blackness.

Alobar and Kudra

2011-02-22T16:47:00.000-08:00

I guess I owe everyone out there an apology for the lack of updates (like anyone gives a shit anyway).
It's funny how things tend to reverberate in and out of your life. Sometimes we can give such little thought and consideration to our actions that the tiniest most insignificant little details of our lives can tend to be the behemoth of problems that threaten to swallow us whole. Taking the once unnoticeable for granted seems to be the epitome of my current situation. When something affects our lives so drastically as to force us to call everything into question, it puts a strange myopic perspective on our view of the present.
An injury for example.
The first thing I ask is 'How long?'. The next step is asking 'why me?' , unfortunately the answer to this last question can sometimes lead us down dark paths that only misguided children and wayward philosophers tend to wander.
Our circumstance can be explained away, but how it leaves us feeling is something entirely different.
As a climber, I've suffered from many little injuries. Pulley ruptures, little shoulder tweaks, an occasional knee pulley inflammation, etc. Nothing that has really kept me from enjoying the outside. My latest injury, embarrassingly enough, was the result of interacting in a sport that I just recently picked up again after years of hiding it in the closet of my apartment. It's funny how indestructible I have led myself to believe I am. I never gave a second thought to being able to pick up a basketball at will and sprint up and down a well lit court with 9 other sweaty guys/gals. It's just not an environment that I find intimidating, scary, or self destructive. But then again, those small details of our lives can rear their ugly little heads when we have convinced ourselves they are no longer a threat and end up taking damagingly large bites out of the precious time we have to spend with our friends and the activities we would rather be doing.
This was the case when I found myself leaving the ground in one last fate-filled launch towards the hoop, only to be pulled down to earth by the gravitational pull that weighted me like every other jump. I landed fine, with the exception of feeling as if I had been struck in the back of the leg by a billy club. I immediately knew something was very wrong. Something I had never felt before, and hopefully will never feel again.
A mis-diagnosis in the ER led me to a second opinion by an orthopaedic specialist three weeks later. Who was able to dampen my spirits in no less than the time it has taken to boil an egg.
It's funny how the word 'surgery' can roll off the tongue of someone in the medical profession with as little ease as it took to snap my Achilles tendon in two. I sat on the crumpled tissue guarding the smooth vinyl covering of the brown examination room seat cradling my head in my hands. 'How long?', 'Why me?'.
I was so optimistic after the last weekends activities. Hiking, snowboarding, and literally leap frogging down the busy sidewalks of Bellingham.
But the facts are undeniable. The large gap in my Achilles was a glaring reminder that something would have to be done sooner or later. I was hoping for a short recovery time that would only take me away from my adventures for 3 or 4 weeks. Replace weeks with months and you have a more accurate picture of why I feel as if I may find no comfort in anything/anyone. At least in the present state I'm in.
I wouldn't feel this way if I wasn't so plugged into a community that thrives on being active in an outdoor setting. Maybe if I was more into television than telemark, or rock collecting than rock climbing it wouldn't be that big of a deal.
Maybe if I wasn't so scared of missing out on experiences with the people that weave the fabric of my life like a silk rug, I wouldn't feel like the next three months would be such a waste.
The big picture is not so bad. I'll heal. I'll climb again, run, carve, skip, hop, and stand on my toes again.
Is it foolish to worry about missing out on things you have no control over missing?
Do you need to just let yourself feel 'left out' sometimes?
I don't know. But I'll tell you how it goes.

Below: more pictures from my phone.
Larabee State Park, Mount Baker, and Mt. Baker National Forest.

I guess

Its 2011 and Everyone is Still Alive

2011-01-24T15:32:00.000-08:00

Good grief Charlie Brown! What in the hell have you been up to? Hmmmm, besides the usual? Not much, I guess...

It's definitely been an 'intriguing' start to the next year. Not a whole lot has changed really. The weather is always changing; I'm growing older; I'm learning new things; my outlook on life and people, places, and things is changing; so I guess a whole lot has changed. I think a smart person once wrote "Change is the nature of existence". This seems to be the theme to my meager and unrelentingly ambiguous life. Instead of fighting the tide I've embraced this fact and tried to go with lifes ever evolving ebb and flow. I would desire not to get too stuck in the muck and mire of dwelling in the past or rehearsing the future. Another smart person said, "Rolling in the muck is not the best way of getting clean." So with a fresh face, and strong desire to move forward I've made a comittment to return to school and finish my masters degree. With that I've also taken up a new outdoor interest: snowboarding. It's something I've wanted to try for a few years now. When I lived in Colorado as a kid (age 9-15) my parents would take my brother and I up to Winter Park for skiing. My father, being quite proficient at the sport was gone in a spray of snow flakes, leaving my brother and I to fend for ourselves. After a few times out we eventually got the hang of it and I can remember blasting down the steep snow covered hillsides manipulating the two skinny and long planks strapped to my feet with great ease and having an absolute blast. Not to mention the beauty of the mountains and the warm embrace of the lodge afterwards. So after a great deal of hand wringing and hopping from one foot to the next I finally made the financial plunge and invested in a few things I would need to get the adventure off the ground.

So far I've been out three times; twice to Crystal Mt., and once to Mt. Baker. I have to say that all three times were more than I had hoped for. With the occasional 'slam', I've actually managed to start carving as of my last trip, and I finally have garnered some visible control. My main goal has been to get good enough to start doing back country (i.e. Rianier), but really, it's just been invigorating to get into something new.

Mt. Baker parking lot.

Crystal Mt. My first time out was a heart wrenching one. My 'friends', all quite good and well seasoned skiers and snowboarders thought it a downright traditional faux-pa not to throw me down a double black diamond my first day out. This is said black diamond, The Powder Bowl. I took a lot of seats going down, but made it unscathed, and ended up going down another three times.

Mt. Rainier, as seen from the summit of Crystal Mt.

Now don't get scared. I've not given up climbing in the snowy white face of some new outdoor adrenaline fix. If anything it's given me a new perspective on climbing; hell on life in general. Yesterday I had a great breakthrough and managed to carve down my first black diamond with no falls and no drifting. I got to the bottom and had this supreme rush of clarity and unadulterated joy. It was like clipping the chains of my first outdoor lead all over again without the slightest notion of what this might do for my climbing ego or scorecard. I couldn't stop myself from hugging my friends and looking as if I had taken a large hit of laughing gas for the rest of the day. It was an overwhelming sense of accomplishment. And while this is the same reason I climb, it was amazing to find it in another activity. The struggle of learning how to move over snow/rock effortlessly; taking huge whippers or slamming after catching an edge is such an enlightening process that locks you into the 'moment'. It allows you to let go of so much that keeps you from enjoying these present moments in life that are happening all the time.

"A much more interesting, kind, adventurous, and joyful approach to life is to begin to develop our curiosity, not caring whether the object of our inquisitiveness is bitter or sweet. To lead a life that goes beyond pettiness and prejudice and always wanting to make sure that everything turns out on our own terms, to lead a more passionate, full, and delightful life than that, we must realize that we can endure a lot of pain and pleasure for the sake of finding out who we are and what this world is, how we tick and how this world ticks, how the whole thing just is."

Good friends Stephanie and Kyle at Mt. Baker. Such a great day.

Peace in the mist.

Best for friends for life! Right? The view was amazing, the weather was sunny, and the runs were open and not crowded. Can't wait to go back.

Bye! Thanks for reading...

And now, for some poetry...

2010-12-19T18:29:00.000-08:00

Rest
by: Christina Rosetti (1830-1894)

O earth, lie heavily upon her eyes;
Seal her sweet eyes weary of watching, Earth;
Lie close around her; leave no room for mirth
With its harsh laughter, nor for sound of sighs.
She hath no questions, she hath no replies,
Hushed in and curtained with a blessed dearth
Of all that irked her from the hour of birth;
With stillness that is almost Paradise.
Darkness more clear than noonday holdeth her,
Silence more musical than any song;
Even her very heart has ceased to stir:
Until the morning of Eternity
Her rest shall not begin nor end, but be;
And when she wakes she will not think it long.

Whirwind
by Eligh (1980-present)

The wind blows, and so my pen flows;
Fingers tense around the plastic curling at my ten toes;
Intensity is rising in my brain like a train wreck,
I wrestle with the feelings in my heart I can't explain yet,
Never had a love like this before,
In love with her lips seeing her face when I open up the door, when I drop my shit and give her all I got, me amore, deserving of someone special in her life who gives a damn I'll be that man till the end of time I'm not afraid;
Keep wiping away that shade to bring that light behind her eyes,
Attracted like matches of flint rock when it catches hard to get apart like the jaws of a pit stop and listen to the angels sing to you,
Amplified by I,
Harmonizing, my deep is true, colonizing a love so true theres nothing I won't do for you, sweet soul and a dream come true, but both of us got work to do,
A million miles of love inside you I can see it when your smilin',
Put it on me, I'm all in, when you call me I'm beside you nightmares get replaced by fantasy,
All I care about is that you stay around and dance with me,
Slow dancin' romancin' hold hands but don't hold your breath, cause I won't disappear from here I got your back until death,
Sweet whirl wind surround us, but noone can define us, your my highness, the blanket to my Linus, and I promise, no lies, I'm yours,
Your scent is in my pores in the whirl wind...

'When I Do Count the Clock That Tells the Time'
by: William Shakespeare (1564-1616)

When I do count the clock that tells the time,
And see the brave day sunk in hideous night;
When I behold the violet past prime,
And sable curls, all silver'd o'er with white;
When lofty trees I see barren of leaves,
Which erst from heat did canopy the herd,
And summer's green all girded up in sheaves,
Born on the bier all white and bristly beard;
Then of thy beauty do I question make,
That thou among the wastes of time must go,
Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake,
And die as fast as they see others grow;
And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make defence
Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence.

Excellent Leavenworth Vid by Kelly (NW Granite)

2010-12-03T10:15:00.000-08:00

Watch this VIDEO!!!

This is a great vid that I'm sure everyone has already seen by now.
Thanks for wetting the appetite Kelly!

Giants Orbiting

2010-11-29T15:40:00.000-08:00

As I listened to Bob Marley sing a melodious yet melancholy song about revolution and love I pulled my hat down sinking lower in my little camping chair trying to soak up as much of the sun as I possibly could. My breakfast was cold and uninspired but I was full and couldn’t complain about the view. The Eastern Sierras spread out before me in a never ending disruption of what would otherwise be a perfectly straight horizon. I pondered how grateful I was for the small things in life, such as: the wind had stopped blowing, I had the conscious foresight to bring two sleeping bags, I wasn’t wearing jean shorts, and even though I had not sent anything yet I wasn’t hurt and my car was in perfect working condition. This escape from reality is instantaneously intoxicating. Time only becomes relevant as far as measuring the day light you have to pursue this beautiful activity, and friends become a lifeline to keeping you engaged in exuberance and chaos. Everything is funny, and status is like a relic from some forgotten society once worldly and dominating and now extinct and irrelevant. Beauty is everywhere and within everything and it becomes so much clearer to me why this lifestyle is so attractive and relentlessly magnetic.

Iron Man Traverse.

Our lovely campsite at the Sads. There were probably more boulder problems in this small vicinity than there are in some established areas in Leavenworth (no offense Leavenworth).

Monday:
Barring our harrowing experience with I-50 and 395 on our way down, our first true day in Bishop was as blue bird as they come. We naturally headed straight to the Milks and proceeded to warm up by just standing in close proximity to the Iron Man traverse. The sun radiated off of this beautiful white face and before you knew it I was sweating buckets without even putting my shoes on. Oh yeah, let me introduce my traveling companions as well as the good friends we met up with and spent the next 5 days with:
Jimmy and Kevin made the trip down with me, and we met up with Jeremy, Derek, Reese, and Olcay (pronounced Ol-jai).

Derrick: A.k.a The Short Necked Giraffe, a.k.a Big Diesel

Little Bro Reese: A.k.a The Quiet One, a.k.a Shadow Warrior

Jimmy: a.k.a Youngblood, a.k.a Flashito, a.k.a 'The Future Will Be Mine'

Kevin: a.k.a Johnny G Jr., a.k.a Mini G, a.k.a The Ripped Girl, a.k.a The Finnish'er, a.k.a The Whipping Boy, a.k.a Rainbow Brite

Olcay: a.k.a Chris Sharma, a.k.a Beast from the Middle East, a.k.a Old Guy, a.k.a 300 Extra, a.k.a Relentless!

Jeremy: a.k.a J-Dawg (woof woof) a.k.a Jesse's Shower a.k.a Jeremy Spoke in Class Today a.k.a Mr. Witty

Iron Man was a grease-fest but for Kevin’s first time in Bishop his flash ascent of this line was very impressive. As we trekked through the milks checking out lines like Haroun and the Sea of Stories and Fly Boy we made stops at Soul Slinger and High Plains but only climbed on Soul Slinger. This is definitely a sweet line with great holds until the peak of the crux which is on a dreadfully small crimper and poor side pull. I was not strong enough to pull past these heinous grips but I did really enjoy climbing on the line.

Mini G on the first big move of Soul Slinger.

Our last stop at the milks for the day was well worth it. The Grandpa Peabody boulder is less of a boulder and more of a miniature version of a small planet. Its overhanging face is beautifully streaked with neon lemon/lime lichen and populated by perfectly spaced and molded for climbing hand holds. I wanted to see it for myself and yes, it is remarkable. Lucid Dreaming is truly one of the hardest boulder problems I’ve touched and just from feeling that little pinch I was amazed and disgusted at the same time that someone was able to deadpoint that little hold. The little pile of rocks stacked beneath Evilution was covered with two small pads as someone was trying the first dead point crux. Jimmy was foaming at the mouth for this line and strapped on the Dragons and got to work. I strapped on the tri-pod and got to clicking off some shots and video just in time to record him swinging up the face like a monkey. Very cool! I’m extremely motivated now to come back and try this climb.

Jimmy snags the first big crux move, on Evilution to the Lip.

Our first day was definitely a full blown 180 from the day before spent cramped in my car for 18 hrs. and it wasn’t over yet. We spent the remainder of the fleeting day light at the Happy’s where we ran into a dazed and somewhat confused bunch of our friends on their way out. We had already pitched our tents at their very comfortable camp site near the upper parking lot for the Sad boulders so we continued our journey. We ran a literal send train on Jug Start To Acid Wash Right but got shut down on the frame bending drop knee of the sit start. We finally migrated to Morning Dove White (lovingly re-named by our group as Pigeon Shit White) and made some good progress but got shut down by yet another Bishop drop knee. What is it with the Happys and drop knee’s?? Okay, the first day was in the books and we were ready for some sweet lovin’ by the fire.

Tuesday:
I awoke to ascend the small scramble near our camp and stand on top of the volcanic table lands. I wanted to check out the Sierra Nevada Mt. Range but it was almost completely covered in a newly formed weather system and it looked like the Buttermilks were getting dumped on by Mother Nature. We had planned to climb at the Happys all day anyway so it was no great loss. The sun was blazing when we arrived at Central Happiness but it didn’t last all day. The warm ups were so good. Solarium is so timeless; a cool little V.2 arête whose name evades me, and of course the Hulk. I don’t know what it is about Central Happiness that inspires or provokes people to instantly set up tripods and I-pod stereos but in no time the dusty flat space between the boulders was crawling with them!

Central Happiness! Olcay on Solarium.

Plus, what’s up with the occasional dirty, pad-less, creepy local who slinks from problem to problem with nary a word to say and only contempt for the masses in his eyes? I guess it’s a phenomenon of any world class bouldering scene, but it doesn’t make it any less sketchy. Maybe we’re the creepy ones in his eyes?
Kevin made another great send by shouldering through the Hulk and sending it in a style I have never witnessed before. Kudo’s Kev! Jimmy also managed to beast his way past the ridiculously crimpy dyno of Disco Diva for another hard send of the trip, NAILS! We eventually ended up at Pigeon Shit again and much progress was made with Olcay coming super duper close to landing the crimp out of the drop knee crux. I flailed. Our attention was turned to Every Color You Are and Mr. Witty with send trains almost materializing. Jeremy had an epic good time on Mr. Witty falling from the lip twice before destroying the last move and topping out for the only Oly’ send.
Jimmy came away victorious on Every Color You Are and I came away lucky enough to not have a concussion, yikes! After falling from the jug rail on ECYA 4 times in a row I decided my place was in the shadows deviously staring into the view finder of my camera.

Olcay, Every Color You Are!

Jr. G giving ECYA a go.

Mr. Witty himself on Mr. Witty.

Heinous techy crimps, AAAAAHHHHHH!

Time to unclench the butthole!

The day’s end was atop the rim of the canyon watching as Jimmy, Derrick, and another dude we met from Florida (no rocks?? No wonder he drove out here by himself!) bear hugged this massive double arête resembling the Atari symbol. My feelings were somewhat guarded at the time and I decided not to try it. I could hear a small violin being played for me somewhere in the distant landscape.

Rain approaches!

Derrick on Atari (a braver man than myslf).

The Florida Kid on Atari.

Flashito on the flash!

Again, we headed back to camp to bask in the glow of the fire. Unfortunately for us, a heavy wind decided to accompany our crew for the next day and two nights which made lounging by the fire with complete indiscretion an impossibility.

Wednesday:
The morning was spent trying to safe guard what little heat you could generate for yourself before the wind came along and stole it from you. It was, however, a beautiful day and we had plans to storm the Sads and see why it was such a gloomy place. If Bishop was to be compared to the gang from Winnie the Pooh, the Sad boulders would be like Eeyore. A lonely and dejected donkey, once caught in the crescendo of life’s great adventures, now left to rot in a pool of alcoholism and Quaaludes, forever asking someone to nail him in the rear. However, like Eeyore, the Sads have something to contribute to the misadventures of our little gang. Rio’s Crack is a beautiful line that begs for attention. We had an hour and a half sesh on this cool crimpy crack and just before we were ready to hang our heads in defeat Olcay screamed like a man and latched the deep incuts near the top and redeemed our sad efforts, every one of them.

The Old Guy making us young guys look weak!

Rios Crack.

We ventured into the wind tunnel once more before finding solace in the cave of Pow Pow. All I have to say is: ‘Put the beer back in the fridge cause mama ain’t comin’ home tonight!’ What a sweet line! Jimmy made the obligatory ‘how do you do’ flash to jump start our two hour long entanglement with this problem. I refined and refined my beta until I was so worked that even after latching the ‘victory’ crimp I couldn’t lock it off to sweet victory. Thwarted again!! But I have to say, it’s a really good time hanging off of this refrigerator sized block. The adventure continues!!

A rare picture of the author crushing!!

With another sweet sesh under the belt we headed towards an even colder place, the Ice Caves. Brrrrrr. Were we mad? I should say NOT! We would have been mad NOT to go to the Ice Caves! Even though none of us climbed, save Jimmy, it was still cool to fully explore this Ali Babba hide out. Jimmy, eyes glowing red, set off on a wicked close flash ascent of Beef Cake, overloading the core just as his fingers began to curl around the last hold. He hopped back on and sent promptly so we could get the hell out of there and into the warm embrace of the Looney Bean.

That night we ate well at the Whiskey Creek Grill (third night in a row actually, due to the happy hour prices AMAZING!!) and sauntered about the streets of the sleepy town of Bishop. I came across a sweet bargain on a pair of used (just barely) five ten Anasazi Lace-ups (the white ones, now me and Dom can be shoe buddies! YES!!), while Kevin finally bought a pair of pants. We also caught a showing of the new Harry Potter flick (much better than ‘The Men Who Stare At Goats’) and readied ourselves for the wand waving good time with a pre-emptive strike on Rusty’s Saloon, where a rather ‘woodsy’ old man tried to hit on Kevin by explaining the difficulties of fighting off poisonous worms in an off width after receiving a flu shot. STELLAR night!

The Sads.

Thursday:

Wow, Thursday already?! We couldn’t handle the ever-encroaching truth that our once immortal-seeming adventures were now slowly decomposing to a close. With another blue bird on our shoulder we settled for a day at the Milks. Another warm-up sesh at the Beaten Donkey Wall (read: Iron Man traverse) had our forearms revving to go. Kev styled the campus version, showing us that even a ripped girl could piss on someone’s project (even if that someone was an 11 year old kid), and I showed everyone that flailing in style is better than just flailing.

Our warm-up led us back to the Buttermilker cave and I was staring down the barrel of a trip with zero sends so far, so I opted to hop on the softest thing I could think of: The Cave Route! With an imaginative name like that, how could it be sand bagged? I sent in a go or two and if asked I would recommend the line. It’s not particularly stunning or even that hard for a 6, but well worth doing. Team Olympia ended up running a train on this one as well and it was really cool to see Jeremy make the big move to the jug look easy. Kevin came super close to pressing out Gleaming the Cube, and before you knew it we were back at the base of Soul Slinger. I never did match my high point, but I got to watch like 4 or 5 tall guys float it like it was some POS warm up. Damn you genetics!!
The bulk of our crew floated on up the hill a ways to balance and crimp their way up Yayoi Right, a slabby tech climb that I shied away from. Olcay latched the rail at the lip but fell off after a foot pop, COME ON CHRIS!

Olcay on Yayoi Right.

I wish that I had Jesse's giiirrrll!

Kevy G on Yayoi Right.

The beautiful golden sun began to dip behind the mountains slowly and there we were. Along with 10 to 12 pads at the base of High Plains Drifter. Possibly one of the funnest climbs anywhere! My history with this line is long and protracted and a bit of a heartbreaker. Last year I flaked off the jug on my last day in Bishop and never got the send. As I gripped the starting holds I could feel the weight of history pressing down upon me (or maybe it was just my 175 pound stature?). It climbed just like I remembered it and after two burns I found myself gripped with terror and face to face with an icy 5.2 climb to the top of the boulder! The down climb wasn’t pretty and I could tell people were starting to ask each other if I belonged outside engaged in an activity such as this one. But, in the end I pulled off the send! YES! I spent the rest of the time snapping pics of the hordes of people that flocked to Bishop just to try this line. I also got some sweet footage of Olcay destroying the problem second go! Yeah CHRIS!

Big Diesel screaming in the scorching sun on the slippery arete of Popes Prow.

Aaawww, it's a boy!

I couldn't stand up because I was too scared...

The sun had gone and it was time to go…to the GET CARTER BOULDER! We made one last stop in the Baltic conditions of the evening in order for team Oly’ to sample one of Bishop’s finest: Seven Spanish Angels. I donned a poncho and a can of blue ribbon and sat about to try to capture everyone’s attempts.

Twin Cracks Left.

First: Kevin got it in two attempts, then Olcay flashed it (Come on CHRIS!), then Jeremy finally sacked up and stuck the sharp jug, then some dude Jimmy knew who was working the line with us sent (and took a chunk out of his finger),

and then like three more dudes arrived and flashed the line! My god, it was like watching the sacking of Troy! I was sure Derrick with his gangly long arms would have no problem but his down fall was sorting out his feet and the lack of a good stance thwarted his attempts to propel himself to the jug. It was still a mighty good day at the Milks and on top of that it was Thanksgiving!

Olcay latches the SSA jug on his flash attempt! C'mon ChrIIIISSS!

The Holiday led us to Vons (which is Californian for Safeway) and we bought beef, tortilla’s, and Makers Mark, oh my! The beef burrito dinner was a hefty one and the taco seasoning and salsa saved the day. We ate and drank and I think I killed like 14 or 15 marshmallows? Delicious. Happy Thanksgiving everyone.

Get Carter Boulder area.

The Short Necked Giraffe!

It was simply BALTIC at Get Carter.

The Quiet Renfroe.

Friday:
I lay in my tent and hoped for sleep to come and take me away. The sun was at full blast and its warmth permeated my tents membrane. I recapped the week in my mind and knew that today was it. Tomorrow morning we would be locked in asphalt combat; jaws slack, finger tips burning, eyes frozen in a penetrating stare that seemed to burn holes in everything and nothing at the same time. I lazily rolled out of my tent for what would be the last time this year. The ‘bad boys from Oly’ were already huddled around the morning fire making breakfast and talking about flashing the Mandala. I joined them and after a much dreaded break of camp we were back at the Milks. We headed off to find The Painted Cave, a brilliantly white V.6 that is a four star classic. It was an amazing line. Probably the best I got on all trip. It had superb thuggy moves out of a small roof, a giant hueco, and sharp slopers (paradox?). The sun was blazing directly on the crux top out but we didn’t care. The whole crew got in on some sloper slappin’ but a send was just not in the cards. I lost a lot of skin on the large grained granite jugs and slopers of this line and it was well worth it. Painted Cave, I salute you!

Reese on The Painted Cave.

Team Oly’ finally gave up after coming so close and we all continued our march to the lonely Solitaire boulder. We met up with long lost WRG employee and Seattleite (as well as boulder crusher and self-proclaimed KOAN) Sam Johnson! He was busy working the awesomely divine and gymnastically aesthetic Solitaire.

SJ squeezing juice!

We cushioned the landing with our massive amount of pads and set out to destroy what little power and skin we had left. Last year I was able to hit the second hold with consistency but I wasn’t able to do the first big move. This year I surprised myself by doing the first move but cheese grated off the last hold 3 times (in agony)!!! By the end, my fingers simply would not close on the last sloping crimp at the lip and I simply had to let it go (both the problem and the hold). Jimmy gave some valiant efforts on the low start doing all the moves right up to the last throw but was denied access to the top as well. Derrick came out of the closet surprising everyone and made the first move look like some V.0 choss pile but was also denied by the second big move. All in all, we chilled in the sun and made the best of this monstrous problem.
It was the last day, and you know what? It was time for a group photo of Team Oly’:

We slowly made our way back to the Buttermilks main area where Center Direct and Go Granny Go bared their teeth at us. My tips felt as if someone was making me wipe the ass of a porcupine after feeding it broken glass. They hurt! But that didn’t stop me from completely destroying what little pride I had left on Smooth Shrimp. Jimmy and Kevin laughed as I struggled to redpoint this boulder problem, both of them casually flashing it, but I fought to hold on only to realize someone was playing a cruel joke on me because each hold had razor blades and shards of glass superglued to them. Damnit! The down climb was no less epic. Jimmy and Kevin gave some amazingly close burns on Bubba Gump but it was just too cold, and our skin was just too thin.

he Finnish'er not finishing...

Ooohhh, look at those Irish guns!

Another shorty CRUSHING!!

Well, that’s it. We tucked our tails and hit up the Town House Motel, after an absurd meal at the Pizza Factory (due to our late arrival at Whiskey Creek). The trip ended in typical Oly’ style, parked comfortably in front of a tiny television sipping Red Stripe looking and feeling like a beaten prisoner awaiting trial.

The next day came and went as slowly as this day has and the oddities and contrasting differences between where I was three days ago compared to where I am now are maddeningly clear. I’m staring at an 8 foot long panoramic shot of the Buttermilks, framed nicely by the Sierra Nevada Mt. range, which I took last Thanksgiving. It’s ironically hung in my 8X10 cubicle in which I’m doomed to spend at least 40 hours a week in, in order to pay for another trip to Bishop. A carrot if you will, that spurs this down trodden donkey onwards in pursuit of regaining even the tiniest glimpse of what heaven on earth looks and feels like.

If I nod off in your presence, even as you begin to talk about the comings and goings of your life, it is only because I have slipped away to a place where time is forgotten, the food is plentiful, fire conversations are jocular, witty, and warm, and the mind’s eye is open so wide that all positive and negative aspects of life blend together to create a perfect mixture of time and space, the light of which is so intense that if one were to live there they would be blinded by the beauty of its profound existence. For this reason, it is only right to visit it occasionally, for the appreciation of such a world can only grow exponentially in this way.

Pulling Down Chili in the South Sound While Drinking Your Juice in the Hood

2010-10-24T12:57:00.000-07:00

I have no skin left after yesterday, my back and shoulders are sore, and yes; I have won yet ANOTHER chalk bag. You guessed it, the South Sound Pull Down took place yesterday at one of Olympia's best gyms, the Warehouse Rock Gym! I believe this will have been the 4th or 5th time I have competed in this comp and it seems to just get better and better every time I compete, every year that goes by, and every decorative chalk bag that falls by the way side in my closet.

This year was no different. There was a great 5.10 shoe demo going on the whole time and you could see competitors dawning the funky new colors of their new Fall line up. The Green Hornet's looking and feeling the best of them all (even though I have already purchased a pair of Blackwings and LOVE them!).

The first session boasted some great climbers, namely my friends Dom, Kevin, Laura, Melody, Sarah, Keena, etc. etc.

Dom, who was feeling extremely intimidated and nervous by my new found strength, decided to drop out of the Men's Open category in favor of competing in the Men's advanced. I don't blame him though, we can't all be beasts like me. He gave the Men's advanced competitors a good run for their money but the locals have really been stepping their game up lately and when the chalk dust settled Eric Evans (originally competing in Men's intermediate) was bumped to Men's advanced and took first! It was a very close one, with the deciding points being allocated by who had the most falls. Dom was beaten out by one fall and took third but still walked away (literally) with some of those new trendy hippie Sharma shoes, a great score! Laura on the other hand was no slouch as she took first in her category beating out one of the Olympia climbing teams strongest females Victoria (who has a very long and crush-filled climbing future ahead of her). I think Laura picked out a nice back pack for herself, just don't let it go the way of my chalk bags, USE IT!

There were not a lot of people in my category, Men's open, but the spectrum was definitely in full swing, from me @ 29 years of age all the way down to Alex Fritz who I think is only 17 or so? I knew it was going to be an uphill battle as I watched Alex and his friend Sam propel themselves to first and second by making a mockery of some of the problems I could only dream to send in my wildest dreams of fantasies of hallucination induced dillusions of grandeur. Okay, so first and secondwere taken, but you know what?? Third is like second best to second place, which in a round about way is almost like being in first place if the second and first place winners stepped out for a bit and some hot girl who came late to the comp asked you what place you got and you could just lie and say first, right? So my eyes were set on the prize. I had already picked out this years next chalk bag vicitim and so I got to work. A nice flash of the softest problem there, led to what could only be described as an exponentially increasing fall from grace a.k.a a downward plummeting swan dive into what will always be known as a dimension I am far too familiar with labeled as 'obscurity'. It was between me, Nathan, and Miles. Surely my hardcore training regiment would pay-off in this fight to faux first? Even though I was climbing sort of strong, Nathan was climbing sort of stornger and wiped the floor with what was left of my pride and dignity. He deserved it seeing as how he sent some problems I could only do a few moves on and is proving to be in really good bouldering shape. Okay, so now the goal was to NOT come in last place. I sewed this victory up by distracting Miles as much as possible and telling him we had like 5 or 6 hours to complete 5 climbs when we really had 3 hrs. Strategy 'deception' a success! I came in 4th out of 5 competitors and thats like coming in first if it was a competition between me and Miles! YES! I am so good at climbing and so strong (In all reality Miles would have beaten me as well if he had only completed more than 2 climbs)!

In the end we all had a great time and wahsed our sorrows away/choked our victories down with a steaming hot pile/bowl full of chili. I climbed some really fantastic problems yesterday, drank some really good free beer, and got to totally trash the hell out of Boone and Steve's dining room table with a quarter. Oh man, do Saturday's get any better??!!

The weather is not looking so hot for next weekend's Leavenworth Halloween Rendezvous, but we'll see what mother nature has in store for us as the time draws near. What more can I say? We have one kick-ass climbing community here in our little state's capitol and I'm excited to be a part of it.

Naked Therapy

2010-10-20T16:58:00.000-07:00

Excuse the lateness and the somewhat ambiguous and obscure nature of this blog post. I usually stay on top of my ‘blogging’, especially when I get back from a trip that I really enjoyed. However, this last trip was almost too enjoyable! I think I got more of a physical work out sitting around the fire laughing than I did sending some of the problems I got on. But that’s just it right? “The best climber in the world is the one who’s having the most fun.” (One of the many memorable quotes from this past three day epic out to Leavenworth) I guess what made it so epic wasn’t exactly the ‘killer’ blocs we climbed, or the ‘sick hard’ projects we sent, but more about the absolute and ultimately shocking, bewildering, and totally euphorically blissful encounters that occurred on a nightly (and daily) basis while in the presence of so many amazing friends, new and old.
Now that I sit here and try to re-hash what exactly happened-the witty comebacks, the hilarious and yet strangely odd campfire encounters, the 48 hour drinking sessions, the golden delicious spotting sesh’s, the mind altering game of therapy, the brain swelling mornings, the Mt. Home warm-up, and finally the break throughs-I have come to realize that it will be impossible for me to actually re-tell some of the goings on of the past weekend. The unfathomable amount of inside jokes that were generated from this past trip will become a thing of legend only to filter on down through an undedicated following who will no doubt water down these rich and concentrated experiences to nothing more than hazy memories and awkward one-liners.
There is no point to this post. I have no pictures or video therefore I can only use words to describe my accomplishments which may mean nothing to you reading this. What’s another V.9 send to the universe of climbers anyway? A number couldn’t possibly come close to describing the experience I had topping out Pimpsqueak. I haven’t had that much fun climbing what used to be seen in my eyes as an impossible feat in an incredibly long time. Every movement was…fun. For lack of a better word, adjective, explicative! I rate this boulder problem right up there with WAS. I wouldn’t mind doing it again and again and again…etc. Just an absolutely great experience in my climbing. That coupled with the fact that as I arrived to Mad Meadows late in the morning on Sunday. Hazy, a little dizzy, somewhat cold and unmotivated. I threw my pads down into the warm up room (a.k.a. the Hueco Route), and I looked up at the exact moment that some dude was pulling onto the Sail. But wait, he made the first couple of moves and then made a huge span left. He was attempting the Ram. No wait, he was SENDING the Ram! Shit! I couldn’t believe it, and apparently neither could he as he yelled with enthusiasm, redemption, and bliss. “Three years of my fucking life…and FINALLY!” the triumphant boulderer exclaimed. And that pretty much is what it’s about right? Redemption? The process of progression? Surmounting the once insurmountable?! For me there is certainly nothing I enjoy more about climbing than that utterly delicious moment of crushing a problem or route that once felt un-crushable.

Back on the grind!

2010-09-22T21:07:00.000-07:00

The past week I have been back to my full time schedule of work. 4 tens, mon-thurs. It has allowed me to: A. Become rich beyond my wildest imaginations of wealth! B. Struggle to stay awake past 9:30pm. C. Struggle to get up at 6:30am. D. Maintain a stellar training regiment at the local gym! E. Start setting routes and boulder problems.

It has officially been over a week and a half since I last touched real rock and I have to say that I am extremely rock starved! In fact, I have even been fondling small rocks that I stole from the banks of the Wenatchee just to get my fix! I hope, pray, dream, and even believe that I will one day be able to get back to Little si before the 2010 year is over with, but, who knows? The last second hand report I heard was that World Wall was soaking wet, sheesh. But the outdoor rope climbing adventures of Micah are looking up. I may be able to get out to Vantage this weekend, if only for one day. It’s hard to determine exactly what to spend that precious amount of time doing/projecting? Do I go for volume, or step it up and try out the awesome looking .12c at the Sanctuary? Guess it depends on who my climbing partners are.

In any event the recent moratorium on dry rock has led me into the dusty, chalk filled, plastic world of the gym. More importantly I have entered this world and begun to look at it through the lens of a route setter. It has been far too long since I have wielded a wrench so reuniting with my route setting roots this past weekend was a blast. The last project we tackled was stripping and setting new routes in the cave area of the Warehouse. A very good time was had as Jimmy, Laura, and I stripped off tape and holds and started creating a new world. It’s always inspiring to have a blank canvass to work with and a spectrum of grades to choose from. When I was consistently setting at the Warehouse (before the regular climbing season began) I was mainly focused on setting routes; due in large part to a heinous pulley injury I suffered in late December early January. However, this latest installment of route setting for me was all boulder problems and I had a great time setting them. I think I have an even better time naming problems, but setting problems from a movement driven vision is like trying to create great works of art. Some people can just throw holds on the wall and voila! You’ve got a 3 star classic for sure, but others (me) take a little longer. I like to start by creating the skeleton of a route or a problem and then trying the moves in my head. Once I have a seemingly cohesive line, I start to try it for real and de-bug all of the awkward or reachy sequences as they come up. This is also the time period when you can adjust for the grade. Remove a jug and replace it with a crimp, remove a terrible sloper and replace it with a jug, you know the drill.

When the dust settled and the problems were all named, I had set three problems in all: a V.4, a V.6, and V.7/8. I’m most proud of the V.6, as one dimensional as it may seem. A cool roof problem on incut crimps and finger jugs with drop knees, body tension, and great lock off’s. I’ve only completed about 2/3’s of the moves but I already know it will make a really good circuit problem, might just need a bit more tweaking near the end.

I’ve also been really driven to stick to a regimented training schedule. So far I’ve completed three days of this particular circuit which is a combination of a work out that I did with Lisa before she left for college and bits and pieces of what has worked for me in the past and what other’s have suggested; as well as whatever I can glean out of E. Horsts latest training guide. On a typical training day the only climbing I allow myself to do is warming up-lap the gym twice (around 300 moves) and practice shaking out and resting during this time; cave laps-which consist of running laps on the cave route which is a V.2/3 boulder problem that starts at the bottom of the cave and can be linked into the traverse and back into itself, so it makes for a good power circuit (I try to at least do 6 laps and link it as many times as possible, so far I’ve only been able to do 2.5 laps on link) ; then it’s on to the meat of the training day, campus board w/feet-the ‘with feet’ part is because I’m still recovering from a finger injury, basically the campus board circuit I go through consists of 5 stages, 1) up and downs using every rung and going up and down until failure (I do this with two of the three levels of rungs 4 times). 2) skipping rungs and going up and down until failure (on two of the three levels of rungs 3 times), 3) skipping one rung and then skipping two rungs, switching arms each time until failure, then mixing it up and skipping two rungs and then one rung and going till failure (4 times), 4) rung dyno, starting with a rung at a comfortable level of height and dynoing two rungs up to the next rung with both hands and then dropping back to the starting rung, repeating until failure (3times), 5) campus board warm down, up and downs skipping every other rung, on all levels of rungs until failure. A very important part of this work out is in between sets you have to do 50 crunches, so basically when you are not on the campus board you should be doing crunches, I think in total it comes to 750 crunches. After this I go in to weighted dead hangs, I use a weight belt that weighs 12 pounds and I either use a fingerboard and hang for 5+ seconds on pockets, crimpers, and slopers, or I find holds around the gym to hang from that are challenging enough to provide a good pump. Each hang is 5+ seconds and I hang from each set of holds three times. Last but not least is the warm down, for this particular circuit I have three stations, push up rungs, bicep curl bar (40 pounds), and a round tube with grip tape on it to do dead hangs from. I start by doing 20 push-ups, go into 20 second dead hangs, and then 30 bicep curls, this constitutes one set and I do 3 -4 sets depending on how gassed I am by this time, trying to minimize rests between sets. The entire work out has taken me 2 and a half hours. Between each circuit within the entire circuit I take at least 10-15 minute rests, which are much needed, so overall the total resting time is 35-40 minutes, so overall you should be working hard for almost two hours!

I still have a lot to learn about training techniques and I’m very eager to start learning the ‘ring work outs’ that Jimmy has been doing lately. On the non-training days I just climb. I try to do 4X4’s where I repeat problems 4 times or do pyramids where I do a V.2, V.3, V.4, V.4 set and then try to link all the problems into each other without getting off the wall and down-climbing on any hold. Plus I have become a huge fan of down climbing routes for endurance/power endurance.

On my rest days I have been running 3-4 miles, with a goal of running at least 15 miles a week. This was a lot easier to maintain when I was working part time, believe me!

I’ve never really had an actual ‘training’ regiment before, so I hope I can stick to this and be as consistent about doing the work outs as possible (without getting injured). My main motives for undertaking a workout program of this kind is to get stronger, become a fitter individual, increase the level of difficulty at which I climb (and subsequently break free of the plateau I find myself in), become a more confident climber, and last but not least PREVENT INJURIES!

I hope this post has at the very least been interesting and if anyone who is reading this has any tips or pointers about training for climbing and what they do please feel free to share. The 4^th annual South Sound Pull Down is right around the corner and I hope that this training pays off and I will finally be able to beat Dom this year! Mwahahaha!

Paper or Plastic?

2010-09-21T19:04:00.000-07:00

Well, one more year has finally creeped by. Slowly, indubitably, the months fell away and revealed yet one more candle on the old birthday cake (or pie, some people prefer pie for their birthday). Yes, the rumors are true, I have turned 29 this month. My twenties have been a very odd time in my life. I don’t think there has been a span of time in which my years spent on this planet have been filled with more change, hesitation, commitment, more change, no commitment, bending, breaking, moving, paying, learning, or loving. And with that, I found myself at a climbing competition in Tacoma on Saturday. Surrounded by people who were, for the most part younger than me, but I was not competing against them, so I wasn’t very nervous. I clambered in the side door to the Vertical Wolrd gym in Tacoma shoveling spoonfuls of delicious fresh fruit, vanilla almond granola, and organic yogurt into my mouth and staring wide eyed as some of Washington State’s strongest climbers made some of the most impressively gymnastic maneuvers up and around the steep and bulging walls. I was mid-shovel before Johnny Goicochea made one of the most heinous looking one arm catches from a wide bear-hugging embrace off a blunt arête to a jug on a roof, before locking off with that same arm to another incut in the roof; and it was after witnessing this that I knew this was going to be a great show.

Alex Fritz crossing through on a stout 900+ point problem

We caught up with Jimmy who was competing in Men’s Open, as well as Kevin from Oly’ who was in Men’s Advanced and Andrew, also from Oly’ who was holding it down in Men’s Intermediate (I know, where are all the Oly’ women?!! Whose representing for the females in our town!!!!??? Besides Laura who was not participating in the comp that day, just taking up space, like me…)

Brian on the start of a crimpy one!

Jimmy was climbing very strong and flashed a 900+ point problem as soon as we got there! Nice! I finally stopped filling my big mouth with food and did a little filming. I’ll post a vid soon, but I’m afraid I didn’t get some of the more entertaining and athletic problems the comp had to offer.

This was definitely a very fun and exhilarating experience. I haven’t really been to a comp, or at least been a spectator, for probably more than 16 years! I had a blast watching all of the effort, encouragement, and jocularity that seemed to fill the entire gym. To sum it up, SHIKADANG! (or ding depending on who you ask).

Ryan Olson sticking a dynamic move.

I was totally motivated to start training in the gym just by watching all of these little crushers around me. The atmosphere in there was really inspiring and ‘psych-filled’. I had a great time and wish I could have stayed to watch the entire 5 hour circuit. In the end Johnny G won a hefty $500 purse, followed by Jesse (I think this is correct) from Stone Gardens who walked with $350! No wonder everyone was crushing like their life(rent) depended on it!!

Jesse crimping his way to second place.

I’ll certainly start coming up to the Vertical World gym in Tacoma and am extremely happy to have discovered yet another great resource in which to train, socialize, and learn more about the art of crushing. Big props to the sponsors and organizers as usual and I hope this is a regular occurrence AND that next year I’m strong enough to compete in it!

Getting away.

2010-09-21T18:52:00.000-07:00

The infamous Coffee Cup!

Well, since the sky has opened up and God has decided to take a two week long piss all over the Northwest my friends and I headed out to Leavenworth! We had a nice three day trip planned and many a boulder to crush. Well, many a boulder to repeat crushing on anyway. Jimmy and I headed out together on Friday and Dom and Laura met us that night. The free camping was OVERRUN! People were everywhere; but you know what? I kind of like the little community that is born, dies, and is re-born every time I go there. For example, one time we were staying there at the beginning of the summer and out of nowhere this group of climbers comes up with the idea to play a game of whiffle ball. We had a blast and needless to say my team won. Or, this last time we stayed there we ended up sharing our fire with some really nice dudes from Seattle who were there trad climbing and had some great stories to share. Don’t get me wrong, I do enjoy the comforts and exclusivity provided by the occasional stay at 8 mile (I’ll always love good ole campsite 21), but the free camping is a really great place to cool your dogs and enjoy some good company after a day of granite groping; and it’s FREE!!

Alright folks, I've got some great spirit animals here and they're going like hot cakes!

Who wants to be the 'Praying Mantis'?

Or, the 'Fuzzy Bear'?

Okay, back to my stale story that is now a week and half old. Everyone has no doubt seen the video and it says it all. With the exception of a few noteworthy ‘almost’ sends. You know, you can never judge a trip by a scorecard. Sometimes the almost sends are more impressive than the actual sends (right? Maybe? No? Well, you know what I mean…)

Me making sure the jug on Yoda is still there...

Laura has some definite projects to come back to and finish up. Maybe getting into the gym will give her the power to come back for One Summer, Claim Jumper, and The Lobster? And Dom had a great flash attempt on The Jib falling at the ‘real?’ crux. The first move is hard, but is it really the crux? Anyway, maybe this trip has lit the fire for them to start bouldering again? So many questions.

Laura reaching for the flat jug (which is now gone!) on Claim Jumper (V.4)

Me on the other hand, well, I just couldn’t get off my recent success on the ropes. Instead of spotting I was day dreaming of all the lines at Little si that I finally feel strong enough to do. Instead of getting psyched to try all the gnar boulder problems I have on my tick(wish) list I was pantomiming the moves to Californication. But, in the end I didn’t send anything, nor was I very motivated to try hard on the problems I did get on. However, with that being said I did really enjoy a cool V.4 at the Torture Chamber called the Lobster. The Torture Chamber BTW, is a very odd place. Does someone live there seasonally?

Dom on the Jib (V.8)

Just barely sticking the first hold on the flash!

Working the top out.

In the end, Jimmy was victorious over the Practitioner his first ever 8a, and I was glad to see him send in just two sessions working the rig plus get the whole process on film. I really look forward to filming some more this Fall and hopefully finding my bouldering stride once more. I have many, many, many more problems to complete in Leavenworth and I need to get with it!

Jimmy staring the final move on The Practitioner(V.11)

Leavenworth 9.11

2010-09-16T20:55:00.000-07:00

Forever...

2010-09-07T10:04:00.000-07:00

What a weekend!
I just returned from a short stay in Seattle where I was able to get out climbing on two separate occasions. If you follow this blog then you know I'm pretty much addicted to World Wall One. I'm not the best sport climber, in fact, I'm still chasing the dream of climbing 5.13, but the World Wall is a great place to train for rope climbing. Soaring gray/white/tan/and even black streaked walls make up this behemoth of rock sticking straight out of the side of Little Mt. Si.
I've been climbing at Little si for almost 4 seasons now and I have managed to tick almost every single route in the 5.12 range, barring some exceptions like Sweet Tooth, Totally Spent, and Propaganda. For the past two months I have been putting in a lot of effort, frustratingly so at times, on a route called Californicator. I had this thing absolutely wired but would always get to this one spot and fall. The move that was constantly shutting me down required some weird foot work and body positioning, and is not power dependent at all. You have to do this particularly technical crux coming right off of doing the majority of the hard climbing of the route as well, but you do have a somewhat decent rest just before you engage in the move so it shouldn't be that hard, right?
Well, not if you're a basket case like me!!
It took me only 6 or 7 burns to get the route down to a manageable one hang. Then the re-occurring nightmare scenario set in. 15 consecutive redpoint attempts yielded the same result:
I would climb the bottom section flawlessly, even using my own slightly harder beta at the third bolt crux, and growl my way through the powerful move at the sixth bolt crux; move left and start resting at the 'typewriter' hold (a long rail with two good incut parts to it), then the anxiety of failure and the pressure of success would come barreling down on me mentally and physically as I reached out left to grab a flat crimp, shuffle my feet over and try to fall into a small but incut sidepull at chest height. This is where I have been falling for the past 21 attempts!
But not on Saturday, September 4, 2010!!
The weather was perfect, sunny and cold. I made plans to meet my two good friends and climbing partners Dom and Laura at World Wall. I hadn't climbed with them in ages and it was really nice to see their enthusiastic faces once again. We caught up on the social comings and goings of Olympia's vast and diverse climbing community, talked shop about new jobs, student teaching, and family and eventually got to climbing. I made the obligatory and somewhat traditional warm up of Aborigine while Dom and Laura did a hand ful of routes. I watched as Laura went for the lead of her project Rainy Day Woman, which will soon become her first ever 5.12a. Then it was my turn. The mood was very light, and as I started climbing I noticed the constant chatter below me and felt good that the spotlight wasn't being blasted too brightly on my attempt. I felt very light and confident on the bottom part, sailing through sidepulls, big lock-offs, and double sets of underclings; before I knew it I was at the typewriter feeling surprisingly good. I've been trying a different style of shaking out when it comes to rests called 'G-tox'. You basically shake each arm out but instead of dangling them by your side you make a conscious effort to shake each arm out above your head for some allotted amount of time (5 secs.) or however long you can manage as well as dangling it by your side. Not only is it scientifically proven but it also focuses your attention on something other than the outcomes of failure or success, hell, it may just work like a placebo!!
In any event, I was really milking the rest and felt better than I ever have and launched into the last crux. To my surprise I stuck the move, it really threw me off a little bit at first but I moved quickly and got my foot up to a good black chip, reached high for a nice crimp, and then made a huge lock-off to the victory jug!! I was absolutely dumb-struck to have made it this far. Now I just needed to shake out and keep it together for the last little crux section, which is no harder then .11b/c, but can feel very precarious when pumped. I finally felt as recovered as I was going to get and made a big lock off to a back-handed undercling, got my foot on a small jib and pulled myself in with a crimp switching the back hand undercling to a regular undercling and stood up grabbing a very friendly finger jug. It was over, a wrap on a sloper, some ticky tack moves over a bulge on crimps and I was clipping the chains.
Dom suggested I write a poem about my experience with the route, but I think I'll just post some pictures of all my friends climbing it:

Third bolt crux!

Lisa clipping off of a set of double underclings.

Antonio heads into the 6th bolt crux!

Dom sticks the finger jug out of the 6th bolt crux, just before you start to head left.

Nick hangs out at the victory jug. It's almost OVER!

I was thrilled to send this route and I feel like it definitely marks a major point of progression for me in my climbing. It is definitely the hardest thing I have ever done on a rope.
If you have stayed with this post this far then you might as well keep reading.
I know my account of 'the epic redpoint of a 5.12d' isn't as engaging, exciting, or eloquent as perhaps Jamie Emerson's recent blog post about his fight with Evil Backwards(V.14) or even Sean Mc.Coll's re-telling of his battle with Punt-X(5.14d) in the Gorge Du Loup, but hey, it's all I got, and in my mind my battle is no less epic or important.
As a follow up to my success on Saturday I returned to World Wall on Monday, yesterday, with Dom, Jimmy, and Andrew. I had the strongest day out climbing that I have ever had. I'm still chasing that elusive 5.13 benchmark, but I managed some really strong repeats:
I warmed up on Technorigine(5.12c), then stepped left and repeated Psychosmatic(5.12d), then stepped back right and repeated Californicator(5.12d), I even made it through the first crux of the Californication(5.13a, californicator into techno) extension before falling going to the mail slot. I'm very stoked on this line at the moment and really hope that I can make this my first 5.13a, a very proud .13a in my case. I even managed a lap on Rainy Day for good measure, after taking a 25 footer off of a second lap of Techno almost ripping my arm out of my socket (yikes!).
All in all, it was an amazing two days of climbing for me and I hope I can keep getting stronger and eventually climb Californication and Chronic this year.
Stay tuned...

Summer Comes to an End

2010-09-07T09:42:00.000-07:00

Hmmm, seems so close...

Jimmy and I had such a great time in Squamish we decided to head back the following weekend. Despite the rain on the very first day at the very first stop, we packed up our shiz and decided to check out a new area called Paradise Valley which was miraculously dry, sunny, and amazing! Great problems on friendly holds and flat landings, what a gem of an area!! The rest of the trip was spent between the Grand Walls, theNorth Walls, and Paradise Valley (which was affectionately referred to as PV for the remainder of the trip).
Since I took my sweet time to finally make this post I'll just talk about some of the highlights of the trip.
Jimmy crushed as usual, but the stand out send for him was one of his hardest ascents yet: Worm World Cave Low. I watched him suss out beta and go from falling at the very first move to falling at the very last move before I was able to pick my camera up and immortalize the ascent on video (unfortunately I wasn't quick enough and he dispatched the first crux before I could press play, but I got the rest on film which I will post soon, I know I keep saying that but I promise I will!!)
He also put down impressive V.7 and V.8 flashes of the Fridge and the Rookie, as well as dispatching the Rookie Low, very nice trip for him!!
I had a great time falling off some classic boulder problems, but I also managed a V.8 which was very fun called Storm Troopers at PV, as well as sending Styx at the North Walls on my second go, due only to the impressively staggering amount of pads that the Hsu and Wolff families were carrying around. Styx is probably soft for V.7 but is such a fun problem on a sweet slightly overhung face. Definitely worth doing (if you have like 8 or 9 pads like we did). However my favorite problem of the whole trip had to have been The Tugger(V.4), one of my all time favorite problems anywhere!! Great movement, great rock, perfect landing, what more do you want??
So, until next year Squamish!!!

Rookie Low(V.10)

Worm World Cave Low(V.10)

I just thought this was a weird photo.

Trad Killers (V.4)

Heart Break Hotel (V.2)

Adios Antonio!

2010-09-07T09:28:00.000-07:00

Antonio on Aborigine(5.11b)

This summer I met a great climber from Ojaca(spelling?) Mexico. Antonio is a really mellow guy who climbs like he was born to do so. He works as a climbing guide back in his hometown in Mexico and has been a beast on the rock for a while now. He stayed in Olympia for the majority of the summer and it was really fun to climb with him and get to know him. He moves very intuitively up the rock and watching him figure out sequences and climb 'lightly' on steep terrain was very inspiring as well as thought provoking. I'm really glad I was able to climb with him as much as I did, and we even got to project Californicator together. These are a few pics of our last trip to World Wall with Antonio, where he made some really significant progress on Californicator. We'll miss you Antonio, and I might just take you up on that invitation to Ojaca someday.

Antonio on Aborigine.

Antonio enters the crux of Californicator(5.12d)

Antonio working out the next few moves on a rest.

Jimmy nearing the top of Technorigine(5.12c)

An Ode to Summer

2010-09-01T17:05:00.000-07:00

'An Ode to Summer'

Yellow powdered feet and wings, that stick and cling and fly and sting, and bring sweet memories home for the tasting; savoring breezes in a backyard, trees light waning greens, oranges, framed by a blue sky, nights kiss; sinking into dreams, melting into the lap of long unwinding roads of sleepy landscapes, where breath is gone and life is floating along, a cold foot on a warm wooden porch suns embrace, sons embrace, brothers laughter, mothers grace, nephew wide eyed innocence over-gripping in the throng of existence, relief and persistence; savory sweet full of expectations and drowning in comforts relaxation; dark blue white light filtered in from windows shade, adjusting silence sitting inside the presence of peaceful mindedness, engaging in the heart ache of sitting sorrowful and sound, peace creeps across the mind shutting doors and cellars soaring stellar stars that come crashing down to earth, meadows filled with the bright explosions of a day past into the shade of our minds, and we sit hugging our knees, tight like a seed, filled with natures own longing to succeed and grow; what amber light throws shadows that bend and stretch around sharp corners and reflect a dimension of a dark selfless border containing secrets that only life in the tiniest forms have seen; it reaches and crumbles the dirt between creases in the skin worn thin and wise with time it binds the heart and soul to passion; turning wheels that send out prayers in the absence of players on sidewalk stages, hand in hand crossed like star struck gazes melting the world away with water color imaginations, these one and two connected to all through actions and phrases where words and languages are obsolete, emotions make the soul complete.

Big Chicken

2010-08-22T10:48:00.000-07:00

Name this problem.

Yowza! Bouldering is hard, no? Well, at least grabbing sharp crystals and bearing down on them with all your might is hard (read: PAINFUL).
It has been two years since I have been in Squamish due to unforeseen border crossing requirements that took place in 2009, but I'm BACK! I mean, I just GOT back from a fabulous trip to the almighty Squaw. And oh how nothing has changed. I mean it, NOTHING has changed, except well, I'm a little fatter, balder, and weaker. But all that aside, it was a really nice three days filled with random social encounters, great weather, sketchy landings, and TONS of finger scraping granite slopers and crimpers.
This is the first time I have been to Squamish without at least 5 or 6 people in tow. Instead it was just me and Jimmy. It kind of felt like a business trip. We were there to 'take care of business', the first of which was a campsite. So far our mission was a failure, so we headed for the boulders instead. Black dyke, sloppy poppy, great for the warming up of forearms and fingers. Next, ATD!! Everything so far felt coated in a nice layer of moist chalk and as I shakily humped myself up the heinous mantle of ATD and walked down from the top out huffing and puffing I knew the next two days were going to be very difficult. So I basically stood back and made sure Jimmy didn't kill himself topping out everything he got on.
Jimmy went on a little Rampage of his own. Over the three days we were there he killed a handful of classics like Squealing Pork, Gibb's Cave, Worm World Cave, ATD, and literally finished the trip by sending Big Chicken. Oh yeah, as a side note we also made a short morning trip out to the Sport Temple where he managed a .13a second go. I would like to forget about my performance on the ropes that morning.
All in all it was a great trip! And, I broke down and bought the shiny new guidebook, which BTW is one of the best purchases I have made. Tons of new problems, updates to old problems, and good general info.
Now, time for some pictures:

Resurrection(V.9)

Resurrection(V.9)

Ride the Lightning(V.8)

The story about the camping goes something like this:
We were about to shell out $30 for ONE night at Klahanie falls when we were approached by a woman who identified us as climbers and offered us a spot at her site where she had her trailer and would be staying for the month. Jen was a climber as well and a very gracious host, down to earth and very fond of Rockband. We ended up paying her $20 for two nights and almost got arrested while enjoying a fire on our second night, completely oblivious to the fact that Squamish was under a very strict burn ban (sorry Canada). But it was a great deal, we enjoyed the toilets, hot water, and the picnic table that cane with the site, and even got to hang out in her trailer one night. Thanks Jen!!

Exactly how fast is this in miles per hour?

Jimmy takes a stroll down Sesame Street(V.9)

Okay, I didn't exactly get any pictures of actual sends but I will be posting a video soon of Jimmy's redpoint of Big Chicken(V.10). Check here soon.
And, we'll be headed back for round two next week. Hope to see you guys out there!

Rescue 911 at Little si!

2010-08-10T18:05:00.000-07:00

The firefighters were the first to arrive.

Don't mind us! We're just trying to get in some pitches...

Well, it’s officially not news. I just checked the internet portals and came up with a big fat ‘no results found’ under all of my queries. Oh well, I guess that leaves it up to me to break this news story. Yesterday, August 9^th, 2010, I rallied the troops (read: Antonio, Andrew, and Jimmy) and we headed out to what would be the soggiest day trip to Little si EVER! We drove through a rain cloud, hit I-90, looked to our left and saw nothing but dark grey rain clouds shrouding the entire girth of Mt. Si. Hmmmmm, this looks to be an interesting day of climbing. The temps were AMAZING (58 degrees Fahrenheit), however by the time we hit the base of World Wall I was soaked (and not by my own sweat, that is definitely a first!!). Unfortunately as soon as we had arrived to the crag and thrown our belongings down we realized something was wrong. At the base of the route ‘Jug or Not’ (5.10b) lay a stunned climber surrounded by his friends, clutching his legs in pain. I asked if he was okay and they shook their heads no. My next question was if he had broken something and it was a resounding yes. I called 9-1-1 and the rest of the day was played out in long sequences of waiting, stabilizing, rigging, and hauling this poor guy off of the ledge of World Wall 1 by 15+ firefighters and search and rescue.

You may be wondering at this point how bad this guys injuries were, that he needed to be carefully loaded onto a stretcher and lowered off the ledge. Well, as soon as the firefighters arrived they assessed the damage to his body as follows:

Left knee dislocated, right ankle fracture, and minor abrasions to lower left arm.

And no, he wasn’t wearing a helmet. Of course neither were any of us. But then again, none of us decided to skip a clip and pump out fifteen feet off the deck. Which, apparently is what happened to this poor fellow. He managed to clip the first bolt on Jug Or Not (which everybody knows will not protect you against shit) and ended up skipping the next bolt in favor of trying to climb to better holds near the third bolt. He made it to the third bolt, but unfortunately was not able to clip, and came flying downwards, the force of the impact being absorbed by his legs. OUCH!

Meanwhile we were stuck in the middle of a monsoon! I don’t think I’ve ever seen World Wall get soaked so fast. Watching the water streak down Black Ice with such momentum was not reassuring that we would have the run of the crag. Of course having an injured climber lay at the base of the wall while we tried to go about our usual warm ups didn’t exactly inspire us either. I kind of felt like an asshole as I pranced up and down Aborigine, Psychowussy, and Californicaotr/Chronic all the while trying to avoid as much eye contact with the injured climber and his rescuers as possible. Eventually Bret and Joel showed up with dogs in tow and things got pretty cozy up there on the ledge. Especially with three routes to choose from for the 8 of us!!! But we made the best of it. I made some really good links on Chronic. Andrew sent his new project Psychowussy. And Antonio tried on Technorigine for size and made good progress as well. Bret had a go on a soaking wet Lost Horizons and took a sweet 30-35 footer off the last crux, VENGA!

We were repeatedly asked for cams from the search and rescue guys while they tried to rig some kind of pulley system to lower this guy down and all I could think of; while they were slowly lowering him, both legs wrapped in ace bandages and splinted, covered in an emergency blanket, looking miserable; was if I ever get injured at Little si, whoever is belaying me, LOWER ME TO THE FUCKING GROUND!!!

Stay safe everyone!! Clip those bolts!

Newhalem for a Day!

2010-08-08T19:08:00.000-07:00

Jimmy pulling the roof on OSX(5.13a)

Yesterday a small group of us made it out to a new crag located in the far north east of Washington and right inside of the little (understatement) town of Newhalem. Jimmy and Lisa (my adopted little brother and sister) accompanied me the three and half hour journey. This crag is located literally right off the side of highway 20 and is one of the coolest crags I've been to in a while. Sweeping grey walls of gneiss (which is very similar texturally to granite) striped by brown and black water streaks soared from the ground at our feet. The belay stations are amazing, flat ground, nice big leaf maples providing shade, no sketchy jump off points, and the routes are all protected extremely well. On our warm up of Luna (5.11a) Lisa put up 9 draws on a 45 foot route!!!!

Jimmy sticking the crux on OSX.

'12c for a Day'(5.12b)

'Shoe Phone'(5.12b)

The climbing is typically not very steep, instead trending towards mostly vertical to slabby or slightly overhung. The routes are mostly technical edging, with some dynamic movement, but it's a mixed bag to be honest. While I got shut down on everything except the warm up, Jimmy had another spectacular showing of his new found power endurance ticking a 5.13a second go and onsighting his first and second .12b's. I almost managed a flash and redpoint of 'shoe phone' (5.12b) but got shut down on the slab part (major disappointment) on my last go of the day. Oh well, I'll definitely be back!

Me on the bottom part of OSX.

Lisa had a good day as well but will have to come back for some of the twelves as well. She did have an extremely close flash attempt of '12c for a day' (5.12b) coming off just before the chains.
We climbed from noon till 8 and it never stopped raining all day, but we never got wet, and neither did the routes!

Lisa staring down the crux throw on OSX.

Negotiating the bulge, OSX.

I'll probably never day trip this area again, but there is a nice camp ground less than a mile away from the crag so I'm psyched to get back out here for a couple days next time.
It looks like it is back to the projects at Little si tomorrow and then maybe a break for four or five days. I'm enjoying part time right now, but am accomplishing very little on the rope (read nothing at ALL!!) so it's time to step back, clean out some of the clutter in my apartment, and re-gain some 'spiritual psych'.
I think the next crag we want to hit up is Equinox, so if anybody has a topo or some beta on how to get there drop me a line!!

Time for Some Action!

2010-08-06T13:50:00.000-07:00

Jimmy crushing Psychosomatic(5.12d) before redpointing Flatliner(5.13c)
Unfortunately my camera decided to go on the fritz as Jimmy soared up the wall and through the bouldery crux of Flatliner and all my pics of him on this stunning line are trashed!! Jimmy has been on the power endurance ride of his life this last month sending another 5.13b Lizard Prince and crushing his first 5.13c Flatliner. Great work Jimmy!!!!

July has just flown(!!) by. My good friend and climbing partner Nick came back from D.C. to visit and certainly left his mark. It took a couple trips for Nick to get re-acquainted with his once local crag Little si, but once he did it was game time! Making short work of Graven Image(5.12c) he then turned his attention to his long term project and gem of the crag Chronic(5.13b). On his fourth go of the day, on his 3rd work session this year he pulled a send out of the bag in typical Nick fashion screaming from the top of his lungs and depth of his soul to stay on through the crux for his first .13b send!!!

Nick enters the final crux section on Chronic(5.13b)

Latching the last move!!! Nice job Nick! Super proud!

Can you find the climber on Techno?

A wet morning in Seattle.

Keenan TR's Aborigine(5.11b)

Lisa has also put down her first send of the summer with an amazing redpoint of one of the hardest 5.12d's at Little si, Californicator. She had been working this with me for a month now and finally pulled out the send with style! Nice job Lisa, I hope I can join the club soon...

Lisa sticks a move on Californicator(5.12d)

Check out the WRG tank top, REPRESENT!!

Lisa crushes the crux on Cali.

Well, I just returned from another day out at the World Wall. The temps were the worst I have ever climbed in. Warm with a mixture of high humidity. GROSS!! Everything felt nasty and impossibly slick. I did, however, manage almost all the moves on Chronic and am so psyched on this line it's not even funny! I have a pretty good feeling that if my fitness keeps increasing this line will go down this year.
In other news of the day no huge sends went down, but Lisa did manage another one hang attempt of Psychosomatic and is very, very, VERY close to sending yet another giant at the wall. As soon as that and Prop go down it's time for Chronic!!

Lisa sticks the finger jug on Psychosomatic(5.12d)

Grabbing the victory jug!

Tomorrow we are all headed to a new crag, Newhalem. I'm so stoked but have a bad feeling my onsighting skills have severely diminished due to all the projecting I've been doing this last month. But, we'll have to wait and see how the routes play out. I've heard a lot of good things about this crag and I hope something in the mid to high 5.12 range will go down. Jimmy has his eye on a 5.13a called OSX so I'm sure I'll get on that as well. I just hope my camera stops spazzing out on me. Hope everyone is well and having a great summer so far.

Get PSYCHED!

2010-07-27T15:22:00.001-07:00

Wow! The summer is really getting intense. Sooooooooo many crazy sends are happening right in front of me. You could basically re-play the last 3 years at little si in fast forward and that is, in a nut shell, what Jimmy has been up to, with a few extra ascents thrown in, like californication, gerbil killer, and chronic no less!!
While it is truly amazing to watch someone meet and soar past their potential it can also be a bit frustrating when you are not following suit. However, instead of getting caught up in playing the ‘catch up’ game, or turning green with envy or red(??) with jealousy I’ve actually been extremely inspired by all of the accomplishments Jimmy has been achieving lately (and in very little time as well). With each new hard send comes the realization that he deserves to send these routes. Jimmy has truly put in the time and effort to reach this level of climbing and all of his hard work is paying off. I think I would be more upset if he just rolled out of bed one day without ever really training and effortlessly glided up each route without giving each it it’s just due. Jimmy has really left a mark as far as the Olympia climbing community goes and it certainly isn’t for a lack of effort on his part. I just want to go through a quick rundown of the sends he has accomplished in the last month:
Hydrophobia, bust the rhythm, viagrophobia, californicator, gerbil killer, californication, chronic, and a .12a flash and onsight and .12c flash from a Tieton trip earlier this month.
Whew, that is a mouthful. Just reading over this tick list makes me wish it was mine, but then again, I haven’t really put in the time and energy to obtain the kind of fitness and mental drive to obtain a tick list like this. It goes back to the point I was making before; I was trying to elucidate the fact that there is an extreme difference between what we want in life and what we work for and truly deserve. I have learned so much in such a short time just by climbing with Jimmy and Lisa for the past two months that it really makes me think about climbing; and not just climbing, but what it is I want FROM climbing. What am I looking for? What do I hope to gain? To learn? To discover?
This most recent trip to Little si was a great one. In spite of the less than perfect temps I had a breakthrough on my most current project Californicator. I finally got to the move that I have been consistently falling on every time, except this time I looked up at the hold before engaging in the entering movement and visualized myself doing the move. I launched upward having no expectations whatsoever and snagged it for the first time on lead, giving myself a rather good burst of (What the fuck!!??) before keeping it together and getting to a semi-good rest. I only had one more small crux to overcome and it would be done, but it was just not the right time and I fell off berating myself afterward for not giving it everything I had. Sometimes I give up before the battle is over; perfectly satisfied to lay down and let the oncoming band of crimps and foot sequences trample over me and my waning efforts. Still, I pulled back on and sent the rest of the route. I feel very confident and yet nervous all in one about sending. But I have to keep reminding myself that this route, or my effort on this route, is just like the small pebbles that fall at the beginning of an avalanche. I really hope this send will lead to stronger and stronger efforts and sends in the very near future. I have already learned so much from the time I have spent projecting this route and the best part is that it is half of the route I really would love to get dialed, chronic. Californicator has taught me so much about relaxing on bad rests, foot work, grabbing and pulling on holds with minimal effort, and moving quickly and efficiently. This route has taught me so much about climbing and about myself and the best part is that even when I send it, there are still so many more challenges awaiting me, and opportunities to grow into the climber that I want to be. I have some pretty high expectations for this summer, or what is left of it, but being surrounded by people who try their hardest everyday at something they love to do keeps me balanced and ready to tackle things that may be completely over my head right now. Witnessing how hard work has paid off for one of my friends keeps these goals in close proximity and not only encourages and inspires me, but also excites me and breathes new life into my psych on climbing and life in general. Don’t settle for what you think you deserve, stand up and reach for what you want!!

Little si to the 95th degree

2010-07-10T10:00:00.000-07:00

Dom battles through the first crux of Technorigine(5.12c)

It's not really 'officially' summer unless you spend all day at Little si in 85-95 degree weather. It was an absolute ghost town as my friends and I arrived around 2:00. Besides me it was Jimmy, Lisa, Laura, and Dom. Were we out of our minds? Had we all let the heat drive us to the edge of sanity? Or, were we just rock starved crushing machines driven by a desire embedded so deeply in all of us that we ignore 'sub-prime' conditions in favor of pursuing a love that envelops our souls and pushes us forward into the unknown rocky abyss.

Dom and Laura watch as Lisa works Techno.

The warm ups were plentiful, and the hike in was not as bad as I thought it would be. Surrounded by trees, the environment at World Wall is less affected by the heat , due to evapotranspiration, than if it was surrounded by a barren wasteland. Yet, even in the shade the first few routes, Abo and Mega definitely could have felt better. I hadn't done Mega in a while and man is that route a gem. Often overlooked but wildly entertaining the steep climbing on incut jugs leads to a delicate sequence at the top and makes for a very decent warm up (even though we were all plenty warm just stepping out of the car in the parking lot).
While Lisa, Jimmy, and I all had go's on Sweet Tooth Dom flew up Techno and contemplated running out the extension Extendorigine, but opted out in favor of coming back with some draws on his next go.
Sweet Tooth is a terrible climb with one sort of fun move and terribly hard and reachy finishing sequence. No sends on that one. I climbed up Psycho with my camera and snapped osme shots of Lisa attempting the love of her life Propaganda.

Lisa made some great progress on Propaganda. She is going to send very soon. Jimmy also is hot on the trail of a send on Propaganda and it may be a race to the top between these two. I decided not to try Propaganda despite Lisa's car salesman pitches and instead I just tried to climb as high on the wall as I could possibly go. This resulted in me one hanging Psychosomatic and then getting into the opening sequence of the crux on Flatliner. Super sick route!! A pure inspirational jolt to my system to want to improve and get stronger just to climb this amazing line. The rock up there is exquisite and the movement is great, plus being very, very high and doing bouldery moves on a rope is something that always tickles my fancy. Jimmy linked all the way to the opening sequence of the crux before having to rest, and even did a couple of the moves in the crux. The only thing is that we have no clue what awaits us guarding the chains; could be jugs, could be heinous slopers. We will just have to find out next time.

Laura, who has flown under the radar in previous years and just revealed to us her supreme crushing power by ticking many of her long term projects lately, has once again sleighed another Little si giant, Aborigine!! Last time she fell just short of the vic jug, but with some good beta (you can thank me later), and a couple of rehersal go's, she sacked up and sent!! Excellent effort Laura!
Now it's either on to Rainy Day for her, or seeking out the next level, a 5.11c. I think she should throw caution to the wind and go for Rainy Day, she's already done all the moves.

We all wound down with some good warm downs. I found a better sequence for Techno (finding better sequences lately seems to be a growing trend in my life), Lisa got up Mega, Laura got up Psycho, and Dom got up Propaganda. All in all it was a fantastic day of climbing and we had the crag to ourselves all day; probably because noone else is stupid enough (stupid like a fox!) to come to Little si in these temps, but we made it RAIN!!

Jimmy on Propaganda

Lisa hanging out on the Abo jugs before launching into Techno.