Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Still in Kentucky. A bunch of thoughts are bouncing through my head but they are all rather abstract and hard to explain. Life has been both moving forward and staying still. I'm not sure if I'm really making progress and this has been a bit draining. The fall has been amazing, and it seems I've escaped the winter up to this point here in Kentucky. Tomorrow brings December and fittingly for the first time we might get some snow.


Returned to Logan for a little bit. Still pretty and still doesn't feel like home.

Since last post: went to Utah and did a little work, and got to climb some amazing pitches. Unfortunately I didn't get any photos of climbing but I did manage to log many days at my one of my favorite places, Blacksmith Fork. I even logged one day of bouldering with one of the best people I know, Kevin Todd. Kevin graciously supplied the most premium beta and spotted me during a headlamp session on Matt's Roof up Little Cottonwood Canyon. This boulder problem is itself amazing, but something about piecing it together at night was magical. After many layers of skin and being so close to folding the pads up I managed to stick everything and found myself pressing out the last move. A spectacular evening.


Melissa hiking into Zion.


Zion. Beautiful.

Also made it out to Zion to finally do Huecos Rancheros, a route that has been on my lifetime list for quite a while. It was an unforgettable day up the canyon with Melissa to do this route and unfortunately I don't have the words to do the day justice. It was an incredible day; one of the best I can remember.


Bolting the beauty...

I bolted the line I'd been dreaming of and after a little work I'm guessing it will land in the mid 5.13 range. It was the only thing left in Utah I was hoping to do this year, so even though I was hesitant I left it behind and headed to Kentucky.


Andrew on Hot For Teacher at the Motherlode.

I haven't been climbing especially strong since I got here, but I have had the chance to do some of the greatest climbs I've ever encountered: Swahili Slang, Soul Ram and The Legend to name a few. The season is almost over here, but I have to tough it out until the 15th because I'll be roadtripping back to Washington with my sister who is up in Columbus, Ohio going to school. Most of my favorite people have now left; huge thank you to Elliot and Andrew for all the laughs and times over this season here at the Red. The number of people left at Miguel's is below 10 and with that comes a bit of relief from the crowds, but its also a bit depressing: maybe its time I should move on too. My elbow is currently bumming and it would probably be healthy to stop climbing for a little. Life is good though, and I'll end this with four thoughts that remind me how much I love it: 1) There is an endless supply of amazing music in this world if you look for it. 2) I have no clue what I'm doing with my life. 3) Today I ran on the most supreme trails through the most amazing forest in a most premium rain storm. 4) I met the most beautiful girl I ever have, and got to cuddle with her.


How many different kinds of Stouts can you buy at the Party Source? Andrew and I found this many.

Thanks for reading.


Fall at the Red...as good as it was made out to be.

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

Returned from Alaska being very sure I was not born to be a fisherman. Although the money was nice, I just didn’t enjoy it one bit; felt like I sold my soul and happiness. It wasn’t that the work was hard, it was just extremely boring. I didn’t understand what drove people to do it, and the best reasons I could come up with (the drive to kill, the notch on the belt, the feeling of being manly…) just aren’t things I need to prove to anyone. Or maybe it is because unlike most people I met there, my ‘regular life’ back home is actually my dream life, so why would I want to leave it and do something ‘extreme’ like fishing?


My view for 31 days.


"...and I caught a fish this big..."

I returned, and immediately returned to climbing (literally got off the plane, got in the car, and went to the crag). The frustration of being out of shape was painful, and besides not climbing for 6 weeks, I also managed to gain 15 lbs on the boat. Ouch. I soon got back on Russian Arete, a spectacular line in Deep Creek that I had fallen off from the last hold about 90minutes before my plane left for Alaska. A few days of work and I managed to put the line down. Felt great to have it done, even though it was a route where every go was a blast as the route is aesthetic and the movement flawless.

This whole time in Pullman I was building my mom a patio, and this one week project ended taking up almost four, but I managed to escape in under a month. Next destination: Canmore and the climbing in Acephale.

Living the dream. Jai's house is the red one, I have the gold one.

I showed up in Canada to climb with Jai who I’d met at the Red. The first few days were perfect, and I managed to tick the few 11’s and 12’s at the upper crag, so it was time to move onto a real project. The crag is stacked with hard routes, but watching my friend Axel on ‘Army Ants’ sold me on it and the project was chosen. The movement on the route is phenomenal and rare; moves I likely won’t find on another route again.

It took 5 days to just do every move, and it seems every day involved some improvement in places, but an equal amount of decline in others. I soon realized that a couple extra inches of reach would have helped me on three moves on the route, the three that happened to be the hardest for me. Linkage was happening sometimes, but sometimes it wasn’t. The most frustrating part was that the top of the route, which wasn’t supposed to be that hard, involved a stab to a pocket that no matter how many times I practiced always felt desperate, and on link was only happening about half the time. Missing this hold would mean falling one move short of the anchor.

The temperatures were getting cold and it was starting to rain periodically making things muggy and friction terrible. I started having a lot of doubts about the route. Should I bail for better weather? If I stay, can I even do the route, maybe it is just over my head? Jai was equally frustrated with the conditions and after climbing with him on a Saturday he decided to head back east. That night a fairly strong storm came through, and waking up Sunday morning showed snow in the mountains just a few hundred feet above town. The day was drizzly, and that evening I decided to hike up to the crag to see if all hopes were lost. Things looked bad: the upper half of the route was completely soaked.

Woke up Monday and met up with Ben Gilkison (who is roadtripping with his wife, Tiffany, for a year so I’m guessing we’ll be crossing paths again soon here, he’s got an excellent blog at bengilkison.blogspot.com) to go climb. I was ready to bail; I brought up my stickclip thinking I wouldn’t be able to get to the anchors to pull my draws. Ben tried to make me optimistic but I wasn’t having it, and after almost two weeks falling off the same route, I wasn’t really psyched to try something new (and dry); I was ready to go south, and not have to light fires at the crag to stay warm.

We arrived at the crag and much to my surprise the route looked mostly dry. It is hard to try to get repsyched after having accepted defeat, so my first go felt very half-hearted. Before the day was out I had managed to stick the first crux three times, something I’d never managed to link even once from the ground. First time I stuck the crux I popped a foot making the next clip, so a big thank you to Ben for keeping me off the ground as I wasn’t very high up and had a big armful of rope pulled up; the next two times I stuck the first crux I peeled off the upper crux. I decided to stop trying because I found the top of the route to be filled with wet pockets and I couldn’t get through. I thought about it, and decided to return for one more day.

So Tuesday rolled around and I came armed with a blow-torch. The pockets were still wet but with a little prepping I managed to make it climbable. My first goes of the day did not feel good, things weren’t as cold as the previous day, but the humidity was depressing. I felt like I was climbing poorly and the optimism left me.

When I was tying in for my last set of attempts and I was more focused on whether I should pull my draws and bail or try to cross my fingers for more good weather. So tired of being cold, and so close to sending, but close isn’t doing the route. This was a mental cluster for me because Army Ants was the first 13c I’d put much work into, and even though I try to not focus on grades as they are very personal, this “13c wall” had stood in front of me for a long time and not taking it down would have definitely caused doubt down the road. First go I fell on the first crux which is probably only 20 feet up, lowered, and as a joke put on my Polish Rocket shirt that I’ve decided to unretired. Next go was terrible, grabbed everything wrong and generally felt so bad I think I actually said the forbidden word, “take.” Lowered, was about to call it a day, but what the hell, one more go I decided. Suddenly things flowed, I stuck the first crux, remembered to squeeze with my left hand on the second crux (my left hand had blown off the previous three times I’d gotten to this point) and made it to the rest. The top had still been a bit wet and definitely harder than usual early in the day, but thankfully everything came together and I found myself clipping the anchors.

First crux; squeezing with the left for the second; the upper portion.

End of the first crux, amazing sequence of holds.

What a relief, man I was happy, this huge weight off my shoulders. Ben is definitely the most supportive climbing partner I’ve ever had, and his mentoring along the way was crucial. This is the second time Ben has helped me with a breakthrough in my climbing, as the same happened at Smith last year. I feel like he’s gone through what I go through, and now is wise enough to know how to transcend it and look at it from outside, while I still get obsessive, hasty, greedy and impatient. Maybe one day I’ll be wise too.

Canada is beautiful.

Left Canada now and after a quick trip to West Washington to spend time with my friend Aly I’m heading to Utah; almost there, just spending a couple days with some great people here in Boise. We’re going bouldering in an hour, so I’m getting ready to get destroyed. Bouldering is hard when you climb routes, and routes are hard when you boulder…

Thank you for reading.

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

Life has surely been interesting. I'll try to keep this recap minimal in words, and provide a few pictures along the way.

Drove out of Utah early April heading for the Red River Gorge. After a quick two day stop in Colorado to see some good friends and attempt to climb at the Monastery - a day that will go down in as one of the coldest climbing days I can remember - I pushed eastward and found myself at the Motherload for the first time less than two days later. Driving across the country went smoothly, and first impressions of the east were that it was...boring? I quickly came to the conclusion that I had always taken for granted the size of the mountains in the west, as the 'Mountain Parkway' that led to Miguel's was surrounded by hills not any bigger than the hills that surrounded Pullman, Washington, the town I grew up in. Expectations were low, I couldn't imagine that these tiny hills could hide as much rock within them as they do.


The Monastery.

As for climbing at the Red I showed up in pretty poor shape after not climbing routes in months, and having been served numerous 'good-bye' meals in Utah. The endurance came along and just as I started to feel strong(er) the poor conditions began to intensify which led to a bit of frustration (apologies to my belayers who experienced this). I did manage to climb many amazing routes, and tick a few routes that gave me a great challenge. The route Skinboat gave me heaps of trouble, and will go down in my mind as one of the hardest routes I've personally done, as well as the most unexpected send I've ever pulled out. The climbing is amazing, and if things roll as they have then I hope to the Red soon.


Gray's arch in the Red region.

Climbing at Purgatory.

I have to take this moment to give a HUGE thank you to David and Marci, Laura, Brent and Melissa for the good climbing times in the Red. I think I spent pretty much everyday climbing with at least one of you and it was always good. Hopefully we will climb more again soon.

So now I've departed from the Red; funny how fast the time went. A few things made me want to stay, but c'est la vie. I find myself currently sitting in central Canada in a small town named Falcon Lake. I managed to pick up some painting work, even though I wasn't expecting to work until in the fall; it seems work never comes along when you need it to so I decided to jump on this opportunity. I'm painting with two great people I met in the Red, Jai and Marin, and it has been quite the time. They are full of energy and excitement;I feel they know how to enjoy life. Refreshing to meet such people, and just being around them and listening to how and why they voyage through life as they do has been mind-opening. It's been great to think about it, and try to figure out myself by hearing what they have done. It has been a very productive time in my mind, hatching out a bunch of useless ideas. Unfortunately the three people in life who know me well enough aren't here and I can't afford the international cell phone bills to call them to bounce ideas. Oh well, I've got many, many car hours coming up on the drive so I'm sure we'll get a chance to ponder them.
Jai and Marin, during one of our lake adventures.

Climbing outside of Kenora, Ontario.

After this painting stint, I'm off on a plane (first plane since I came to the US 17 years ago, yikes!) to Alaska to salmon fish for 5 weeks. Up until a bit ago I was somewhat unready to go at this even though I had agreed, but now I think it will be good. I'm hoping to fit in a couple days of climbing in Spokane once I return to Washington. Deep Creek is a place that will always remind me of the good old days, when things were simpler, I was younger, and the place I fell in love with climbing. Thankfully the reigning Crag Sheriff and Route Police Captain are some of my favorite people I know, and the routes are the best I've done so I'll always love the place.

Things have been a roller coaster so far this year, and I guess I've become content with the fact that this will never end. Thom Yorke said something along the lines of "if it's getting too predictable, it's time to fuck things up" and I guess that is how I feel about life at this moment. Things are beautiful, and I'm sure when I return things will continue on this perfect, disastrous path, but I'm feeling really content about this. Off to sail the seas. Take care everyone and thank you for reading.

Friday, April 2, 2010

leavin' on a previa-plane

Last day here in the office.
Besides the temporary frustrations with slow-USB transfers and the the fact that I-80 has been closed in Wyoming life is amazing. As soon as I get a few more things done I'm off to climb...for about five months. Hopefully this blog will stimulate my photo taking, as last summer's roadtrip yielded a total of 30ish.

Time in Logan has been and gone - I'm surely ready to get out. I had the pleasure to meet one of the best people I have, a person that I must admit understood me. Isn't that rare? Feels like it is always easier to write people off by saying they don't understand you, because it makes it far easier to disagree with what good advice they have. You never have to justify your actions, because the problem isn't on your side, but the fact that the individual who has processed and responded with their wisdom doesn't understand you. But this individual did understand me, and as a result has definitely had an impact on how I view life and how I will continue to try to live it. Greatest thank you to this person, I hope they know who they are, even though knowing them they would tell me I am wrong about these preceding sentences.

No more seriousness. Utah, I will return. To all the people that have kept me sane here (I guess this is mostly a list of people who actually climb outside) I will look forward to crossing paths again.

Kentucky. Here we go.