Come together.

Last Thursday marked the end of a year long saga.  Never before had I failed so much.  The obsession, insanity, hope and ruthless devotion finally has concluded.  This doubt that filled my mind for so long has lifted, or is starting to because what happened hasn't sunk in quite yet.  All I can think is how this all came together and nearly fell apart so many times.  Climbing is such a selfish pursuit but this ascent would have been impossible without several things or elements coming together.  Behind each of these is a person or people who helped me, and I hope I can give that back to others in the community.

This all started right about a year ago.  May 1st, the first day of grad school here in Logan.  What a shock after being free and just climbing for really the previous 3 years.  How can people enjoy this life???  This isn't what I want to write about though.  We started exploring the crags up Logan canyon, and were instantly impressed by Rodent Ranch.  For anyone visiting the area, the 12c up there "Basted Pikas" is amazing, would be a classic at any crag.  There is also a mint 11c named Pika Angst, and the 12d and 13b variations to Basted Pikas are both super fun. Then there are several other routes from 5.10 to 5.12 that are all worth doing.

Looking for a project I tried a route that shoots up the right arete of the main buttress that was named Rad Race.  First go I shamelessly stick-clipped up most of the route and could do a couple of the moves, but was mostly convinced that it had broken because there were several sections with things I didn't imagine were holds.  A few days later we returned and the route’s first-ascensionist, Matt Cupal, was there and informed me that the holds were still there.  The problem would turn out to be that Matt has probably an extra 10 inches of reach on me, so I had to come up with my own beta or get taller.  Turns out probably either would have taken the same amount of time;) I eventually figured out some beta, but soon it got hot and I didn't visit the route for a few months. 

The first two holds off the rest ledge leading to the stunning arete.

Eventually fall rolled around and I remembered the route.  I returned to it and this is where the nightmare started.  I felt like I was climbing strong, but was getting owned!  Sometime in the fall I remember talking with one of my friend Jonathan who climbs miles harder than I do.  We were discussing the V-grades of moves on routes.  He joked how routes don't really have that hard of moves very often, but when you are climbing some high grade, no one wants to admit that some V3 is kicking your ass, and say it feels like V8 or whatever.  I reflected on this thinking and applied it to Rad Race.  Maybe the moves weren't so hard.  More weeks went by, I kept trying the route, links got longer but never close to long enough.  I went bouldering at stout and soft areas, I worked on my power.  I did some pretty hard boulder problems (for me), came back to the route and wanted to say "hey, these moves are easy."

But that moment never came, the thing was brick hard and boiled down to three boulder problems in a row, with two holds good enough to clip from.  Here is how it went: The route starts with a two tiered giant choss pillar, in fact you stick clip the first bolt which is about 25 feet up standing on the first tier, just to mount the second tier which is about 20 feet tall.  Then you climb probably 30 feet of 5.11+ to sit/crouch on a tiny ledge, which turns out you can get a no-hands rest on, but it would pump my legs silly to hold the position, and if a wind gust came I'd come close to falling off.  Here the business started: a 7 move V5/6, clip, a 7 move V5, clip from a sketchy heel hook, to a 9 move V7.  The V7 was the kicker, after desperately slapping the arete for so many moves you pull into a nasty right hand undercling, and toss to a slopey crimp.  The feet here are terrible and the core tension to even pull into the position to throw from always left me moves earlier.  No rest, some of the worst foot holds I've ever used, hand holds I didn't think existed other than the tickmarks to point to them, but the sequences were perfect.  Every move packed full intensity, always pressing or compressing or opposing, never a second to go straight arm, no jugs to comfortably clip from.

Fall was ending and winter starting.  I was obsessed.  I skipped classes and work, the route controlled me.  A huge snow storm was rolling in and Melissa joined me for one final chilly morning to try to send.  I gave the route a half dozen goes, falling off a couple move from the top go after go.  I was broken.  A day later the snow hit and all hope was lost.

Then real winter.  Training.  I messaged my friend Ryan who I had heard became the beast he is from a hangboard routine he'd been doing for a few winters.  I tried it, stuck to it and hoped for results.  I campused, tried to reduce my donut addiction and thought about the route almost daily.  Funny how a mind can work, how so much emotion can be attached to something so lifeless.  Around the middle of the winter I went bouldering and did something to my Achilles falling too many times off problems.  What a pain in the ass, “I can't have surgery now!” I thought.  But I also couldn’t wear climbing shoes or go running, the two things keeping me sane in school. Facing months of physical therapy, I desperately looked for another option.  And once again the climber network led me to someone who had had the same problem, and they told me some key stretches (and to do them a lot), buy a massage roller, and ice.  It worked well enough, and still I am getting by today. 

As part of winter training, Kevin, Eric and I won the Tour de Donut in Logan.

Finally Logan thawed out.  We drove up the canyon and my first day there I did an easier version of Rad Race called Myoptic Vision, which basically avoids the V7 and half the previous V5.  It felt easy, and it was nice to clip some chains.  A week later I returned and tried Rad Race proper.  I figured out better beta for the first crux after talking with Matt Cupal over many beers that winter.  I dumbed it down to probably V4.  I made it to the big throw that afternoon matching my highpoint.  For the first time in probably 10 days of working on the route I looked forward the next day here.

The next weekend one of my best friends Kevin came up to climb and I got on the route.  I sat on the ledge and tried to relax.  I had heard another Logan climber had gotten on Myoptic Vision (the Rad Race variation) and I wondered if he had left any tick marks that might confuse me.  I was pretty sure it wouldn't be a problem as I felt closer to an underpowered robot than a human at this point on the moves.  I stood up grabbed the first two holds went for the third and "FUCK!"  Broken hold.  Broken dreams.  Not only could I no longer do my new easy beta, but I couldn't return to my old beta either.  It was pretty devastating.  The nightmare continues I thought.  The dread, lack of psyche, the failure, I wanted to end it.  Melissa would say "don't do it if you aren't having fun."  But I felt like I needed to close this chapter to move on in life; feel like I had progressed and not accepted failure.  I figured out a new way to do the first boulder problem, which now involved holding a nasty barn-door, and made the boulder problem much more taxing than either of my previous two methods.

Back to work.  The next week I was at work exchanging emails with Chuck and he was telling me about how his wife had just sent her hardest route.  It was completely unrelated to the epic I was having, but Chuck said he is proud of his wife because few people could stick with something so long, and in the end what is the worst thing that can happen if you keep trying?  Not red pointing, nothing else.  I thought about this a lot the next few days and after a rainy week away from the project we returned last Thursday.  I didn't have much heart, didn’t have many expectations, but felt like I had control of my emotions for once.  

The sidepull/undercling leading to the throw that eluded me for so long.

First go went well, but I felt so far from success.  I remarked that it was funny how there was this physical limit, how I could do the same 18 moves over and over, but never 19.  Then I roped up for my second go.  My mind was drifting around during the start of the route.  I thought about how the heat was coming and how this might be one of the last good goes of the spring.  Maybe in the fall I'll be stronger I thought.  I made it to the rest, tried to focus on how beautiful this place was, and how silly my obsession was, even though I knew that I was addicted and would surely be in this situation again.  I executed the first two cruxes perfectly, got to the undercling and locked it down.  This was it I thought, this was the moment.  I got my feet up and went for the crimp that had eluded me for a year.  Latch, the pump was building but I kept focused, precise smear after smear up the finishing moves, slapping holds, and the final rockover to the jug.  It was a crazy feeling, relief and happiness.  I clipped the chains and just laughed.  This is the greatest way to live, all the pain and obsession and blindness, I wouldn't rather be doing anything else.

I am ashamed to admit how dramatic and stupid I was at points leading through this saga.  My girlfriend Melissa was this constant pillar of support, and at times I surely didn't deserve her kindness and optimism.  I love this girl; she stood by me during my ugliest and most helpless times.  Thank you.  And thank you to the rest of the climbing community.  So many people played little parts to make this happen, with their advice or support, or heckling to try to remind me of how silly we can be.  Thank you everyone!