Realities of What?

It's been a while since I've posted my last trip report, but that's because I haven't been getting out very much. And it's official: I'm back to stinking up the joint. In another lifetime I was cranking four to five days per week as a normal, card-carrying member of the legit workforce. Forty-plus hours per week plus gym time and the weekend ritual of sitting in traffic, bagging 20 pitches in a weekend, and returning with more weekend traffic suited me just fine until I got bored with my life in corporate healthcare finance. Now I'm teaching English in Brasil, making a shade less per hour than I was before in the U.S., and working significantly fewer hours. I should be climbing more, right? It turns out the answer is no, so what gives?

Climbing in Ethiopia

Nico helped me out a lot when I was in Chile, so I think it's only fitting to give him a shout-out now that he's living and climbing in Ethiopia. Here is his latest blog post: Horizon Ethiopique. It's more than just climbing. Instead it tells a little bit of history and culture, too, as he and a bunch of French climbers get at it setting new routes in the Adwa Mountains, which are nestled in the northern region of Tigray.

Enjoy

A Hodgepodge of Climbers in Southeastern Brasil

Looking out toward Curitiba
(Photo by Nivea Bona)

When I first landed in South America in December of 2010, I settled in Santiago de Chile, the Chilean capital city so walled in by the giant Andes mountain range to the east that peaks often felt as if they’d topple right down on top of the city. I chose to live in Chile in part due to the quality and abundance of climbing there. But as the world turns so does life move on, and upon meeting a great girl from the other side of the continent, I decided to relocate to southern Brasil, where I had no clue if there were even mountains let alone crags worth visiting.

Getting Psyched (Out)

If you are like me, you know how much the idea of a climb can grow and subsequently fester in your mind. Whether it is a route you have wanted to do for years or a new climb with a daunting reputation, you know how drastically expectation can color a climb once you finally work your way up to getting on the darn thing. I don’t care if it is an r/x rated trad headpiece or a pumpy sport route with a heartbreaker finish, expectations drastically affect how we climb and, thus, our chances for success on the routes we want to do most.

First Time Out in Brasil

Sunset from Anhangava
(photo by Isa Vellozo)

The weather never cooperated in the South American autumn. It was cold and rainy from Easter to the end of May, getting cooler by the week. And I was busy, too, of course, engaging in a Brazilian romance and wondering where it was going to take me. To the mountains during that six-week voyage it did not, so I flew home to the US and flailed at Rumney, vacationed in Acadia, ripped my fingers to shreds on Cannon, and beat the heat at Rumney and Farley Ledge. Then my visa arrived at the Brazilian consulate and I boarded a plane to see just how far that romance was going to take me. Naturally, as the weather had been improving in forever rainy city of Curitiba, I was hoping to mix in a little bit of climbing, too. This past Sunday, I got my wish.

A Farewell to the 'Gunks

Waiting my turn on Shockley's

This was probably my last trip to the 'Gunks in what is likely to be a few years. Kind of sad about it, to be honest, but excited, too. This has been the summer of "vacation" climbing, as one of my friends coined over our recent trip to Acadia. Ever since my disaster of a Rumney trip in June, I've been hoping to simply get out and enjoy the day with nothing more getting in the way. As a result, climbing has never been more relaxing: No goals, no cares, just climbing and being with friends. This has been a sort of a good-bye summer even though I know I'll be back someday. However, when I do come back it'll undoubtedly be as a different man than not only the one who left but also the one who has chilled the last two seasons. Who that person is will be a surprise to me, I'm sure, and, oddly, the 'Gunks have played a large role in that transformation.

Running over kittens at Cannon

(Apologies for the lack of photos. We simply didn't take any)

It wasn't long ago when Cannon was a place of nightmares for me. Three rain storms, an electrical storm, a brutally shortsighted hike to the summit, and a sprained ankle had crushed me time and time again. Don't get me wrong, I have made it to the top successfully several times, including on lead under difficult circumstances, but there was always something about that place that made the added risk assessment worth it. Simply put, don't climb there unless you're ready.

Of course, out of friendship, I ignored this advice and for five pitches I giggled my way up Whitney-Gilman (5.7) last week for the first time in over a year (at least). Even the approach felt easier than normal (for honesty's sake, I was still out of breath at the top of the talus field). But somewhere, maybe in kitty heaven, where the walls are covered in carpet and curtains, where an endless ball of string continually fills up as it eternally unraveled, where there are more back-scratchers than dog bones, somewhere up there, hidden amongst the forever fresh kitty litter, there lies a rotting, bitter-smelling chunk of something dear to cats universe-wide that is quite simply out to get me.

Gracias a la Vida

Nivea

Her eyes were as wide as a bucket of tears when I said I was going to be away that week.

Henry on the offwidth
Photo by Catalina Mekis

“All week?”

“When do you leave?”

It was next Sunday, early, and Henry, Armando, and Catalina had planned to come home late that same day. Maybe I can come home early, I thought, and Henry confirmed that the hardest part was getting there:

“Getting back is a piece of cake, even if you don’t know Spanish that well.”

When we met to discuss our plan the Wednesday before we were to leave, I told Armando and Henry I would leave on Friday and that I hoped we would get to the top of the lower buttress before that.

“I understand,” Armando said. Henry did too. We had one week left together before she left to go home to Brasil. I was going to be away with them, and I wanted to see her one last time before she got on the plane. We had talked about me visiting in April, when her school year was slower after her students had settled in at the university where she taught, but this was also scary to us.

“Don’t have any expectations,” she said. “No plans.”

I deceived her and planned to return early just to see her.

Guidebook: Espolones de San Gabriel - Espelon (5.7), La Raya (5.8)

 Espolones de San Gabriel

Approach: From Santiago head to Cajon de Maipo toward San Gabriel. By car, get directions in advance. By the Metro, get to the Los Mercedes subway stop. Head upstairs and grab a Collectivo (fixed-price taxi) to San Gabriel (as of Jan 2011, about 2500 pesos). The ride takes about an hour (maybe a bit less). Be sure to ask the driver to stop at the last bridge / stream before the town of San Gabriel (this will be a couple of minutes before the border stop, which the driver should know).

At the bridge, face up stream and see the obvious many cliff faces of San Gabriel Mountain. For Espolones de San Gabriel, you're heading to the lowest, large faces on the right of the stream.

Cross the street and bend through the two cuts in the barbed wire fence. You should be on the right side of the stream and facing upstream. Walk along the path (crossing the stream where / if necessary) until you come to a loose dirt / small scree field that is directly below a large slab that is facing the stream. Walk straight up the scree field, finding the path of least restistance to the base of the cliffs.

Viva Chile!

The stream below us

Less than four weeks had gone by since I had first arrived and I was rushing to meet "Red" downstairs. Two days prior he had said on the phone that in order to beat the Santiago crowd we'd have to leave early, which was fine to me because I wanted to beat the hot sun as best as we could. I figured he'd have me meet at the end of one of the subway lines at 7am so that we would have an easier time getting a collectivo (fixed-rate taxi) to San Gabriel in Cajon de Maipo, which is a deep, rural, and narrow canyon just to the southwest of Santiago. A day later I recieved an e-mail with the details: "Bring lunch, water, 3,000 pesos for the collectivo, and I'll pick you up at 9am."

And thus, for the first time, the notion of time in Chile had finally settled upon me.

Return to Whiteside

High up on Traditions

    For an entire week prior, the feeling in my stomach alternated from queasy fear to unbridled excitement. It was finally happening. I was going back to Whiteside but, this time, to the imposing Southeast Face, an eight hundred foot quartz diorite monstrosity known for its bold run outs. “SF” had set up the plans. We would leave from Athens Saturday night, camp on nearby Forest Service land, and make a fast and light assault on the mountain with the sunrise. Our route of choice was Traditions (5.11c R IV), the second easiest full length route on the wall. Somewhat of a mix between the meandering Original Route (5.11a R IV) and the absurdly steep headwall routes to the left, Traditions takes a direct line up the middle of the face.

The New (All About Commitment)



The New River from Snake Buttress

 My speedometer cruised at the speed limit on my first West Virginian Deliverance road despite feeling uncomfortably five-miles too fast. The hilly, single-lane road was the short way to Fayetteville according to my GPS, and since I was trying to save money, and since the shortcut was only five minutes longer by time, I took the road less travelled, which raised my eyebrows in two different ways: split between staring around the blinded curves ahead and at the crumbling wooden houses separated by muddy yards, rusted pick-up trucks, and the neatly stacked wood piles that fueled the smoke-spewing chimneys that rose up from the wavy tin roofs on top. I was heading to The New and greatly looking forward to it.

Getting With The Times



"Blow" on V3's P3 (5.7)

 My hands were cold. The tips on my fingers were turning white, just as they always do when the late autumn shade hits at the end of the day and the rock swings from motherly warm to freezing beast. I was only a little nervous and very excited. Unsure is probably the best way to describe it. My heart was racing and my head was calm. A girl, the second in her party, had just fallen at the crux and she swung out into space and dangled there, at least five feet from the jugs she had just ripped off from, and waited for someone above her to teach her how to prussic the rest of the way up. I was alive with energy.

In the Shadow of Giants

The North Side of Looking Glass

It was a cliff I had only seen in vague pictures. Random snapshots showed immaculate, laser-cut granite. Daring aid lines, hard free climbs, the North Side of Looking Glass has both. This six hundred foot, overhanging shield of rock has been toying with me for the last few years. It stands as an objective, a true test of abilities. It was a trip I had always wanted to plan but have never made happen. It still hasn't. However, now I have seen it with my own eyes. The pictures do no justice. I am ensnared.

Twelve Days in the Northeast

Hi folks,

The most recent trip report is posted here on Climbing.com. I'm no poet, but I took a shot at writing a poem anyway. Because of the way the text wraps around the photos, it doesn't quite look as I submitted it, but that's OK. I really have no clue if it's any good or not. Here is the beginning to give you an idea:

Upon the passing of Hurricane Earl;
he flew in just before
we drove up to Acadia,
to climb the pink granite.

Confidence is Key

I had grand plans for that day, more accurately, delusions of grandeur. “Fearless Leader” and I headed off to Foster Falls, Chattanooga's sport climbing hub, but I had more than just a few quick draws in my pack. Influenced by John Sherman's article “Its Big, Its Bad, Its Retro-Trad”, I had lugged my entire rack with me. I was going to show sport climbing who was boss, or something like that. I envisioned crowds of awestruck onlookers gawking at my bold prowess. Skipping bolts and sometimes facings serious runouts, I would cruise up the area classics. I had one particular route in mind. Rumor has it that Satisfaction, one of Foster Falls' best routes, used to go safely on natural gear before it got the sport treatment. I had big dreams alright.

Consecutive Days and I'm Ready to Go?

It was only a week or so before when I awoke after my first day of climbing after contracting Lyme Disease that getting out of bed was the crux of the day. I rolled my feet to the floor, stood up, and immediately felt as if a truck had hit me head on. My swim session later that day was the slowest I'd had in a couple of weeks, and I wanted to eat the house out of food. I didn't, of course, but if that's how I was going to feel after one day of climbing easy stuff at Rumney then I openly wondered how my trip in September with "Jello" was going to turn out when we would hopefully be climbing every single day for two straight weeks. One day clipping bolts at Rumney clearly wasn't going to do the trick; I needed multiple days in a row of plugging gear, and "Lost", so nicknamed because we got lost trying to find our tent after heading back to the car to fetch the ill-forgotten beer in the backseat, provided me with an opportunity to climb for three days at the old haunt in the 'Gunks. We had been somewhat trying to climb together for a couple of years without luck, so I took the opportunity when it finally emerged and off we went in search of my long-lost endurance.

Guidebook: Gunks - Baby (5.6), Blistered Toe (5.7), Filipina-Boldville Link-up (5.7), Shit Creek (5.7), Drunkard's Delight (5.8-),

Baby P1

Baby (5.6) - Two pitches - Trad - Mixed anchors

Approach: Take the trail up left immediately before the rescue box. Stay left at the split. Baby is the crack that comes out of the broken rock at the bottom and has a pod about 35 feet up.

Pitch One (5.6) - 80 feet - Bolted anchor: Climb the broken rock up to the pod. Clear the pod (crux - a #4 camalot works really well here if you're short), and follow the crack up right to the bolted anchor on the ledge below a left-facing corner system.

Review- Stone Summit Climbing Gym

The Stone Summit

Stone Summit is the talk of the town. Ok, maybe not the entire town, but you get the picture. Every climber I speak with, even if I haven't seen them for months, only wants to talk about one thing, Atlanta's new uber gym, the largest in America. At first I was dismissive. Despite evidence to the contrary, I prefer not to view myself as a gym climber, and I certainly don't want others to think I am some sort of plastic junkie. My default response to the topic was always, "If I am going to drive over an hour to climb, I am going to actually climb, and there is no way I am going to drive and then pay to climb." The elitism was thick as molasses. However, one can only be so resolved in their quest to seem above the plastic pulling masses, and my disdain became slowly replaced by curiosity.

Guidebook: Rumney - Rise & Shine (5.7), Bolt Line (5.8), Dung Beetle (5.8), Easy Terms (5.8), Hippo's Parade (5.8+), Lies & Propaganda (5.9), Easily Aroused (5.9+), Egg McMeadows (5.10a)

Rumney

Meadows / Parking Lot Wall

Approach: From the main parking lot, if heading to the Meadows first, walk to the far end of the lot (past the kiosk if walking from the toilets and / or fee station), and head straight up the path. The path will come out at the left side of the Meadows. For the Parking Lot Wall, head up the path directly behind the kiosk. A path connects both walls at the top. The approach is less than a couple of minutes each way.

Routes below are listed from left to right, first by climbing area and then by route. All routes noted are bolted with bolted anchors at the top and require only a 60m rope to go up and down. Please do not top-rope through the anchors. Lowering through them when finished is acceptable. The number of bolts listed does not include the anchor.