Funny Deleted Scene from Reel Rock

Saw this recently and thought I'd share. Great short video of a raccoon climbing with sound effects to boot!

BTW - I actually made it climbing recently, and I'm awaiting the pics to arrive via e-mail before I do the trip report. Thanks for your patience.

Until then...

A Visit From Afar

A socked-in day at Anhangava
Photo by Nivea Bona

I've now been in Brasil for a little less than two years, and during that time, no one had come to visit until "KITT" decided to drop south of the border for his first trip to South America. This was after an extensive interrogation conversation to convince him to do so when we met earlier in Spain. While in Spain, he was interested, but wasn't sure he could swing the hefty airline price. A swift smack in the shins with a baseball bat few weeks later, after having reviewed prices for what seemed like every day, he bought his tickets for a ten-day trip around Easter weekend, and while we didn't have a lot of time to climb, it was on the agenda. Our plan was to hit Anhangava (a reasonable mountain outside of Curitiba with high-quality cliffs at the top)and then Mariscal (a fantastic climbing location for the views alone). I was really looking forward to both days, and secretly hoped we could sneak in a few more if the world suddenly changed direction.

A Comical View of Sewing it Up

A Dream Realized (if only for two days)

Ardales from above

We came in on the flat road until it hit the hill that went up into the village that sat there, below the ruined castle and the small church at the top and the tiny chapel above that up on the hill just beyond the row of windmills turning along the ridge that ran toward El Chorro. It had been a dream of mine to climb in El Chorro since I saw photos of the narrow gorge-turned-reservoir ten years ago. Then, with the El Camino del Rey, that famous, derelict walk affixed to the edge of the cliff and built for the king's workers to access the gorge during construction of the dam, still in use, I gazed at the photos of the towering, steep walls and wondered if there was any climbing there. The El Camino del Rey is a walk, now forbidden due a the number of deaths the past few years as a result of the decrepit state of the walkway, but the rock around it, and the exposure of the towers rising above the small town cuddled just above the river, was what opened my eyes. Not only did I find that there was climbing there, but I discovered that it was one of the top climbing destinations in all of Europe.

It's Official: Spain is a Go!

El Chorro
(via www.escaladamutante.com)

I've been waiting for "KITT" to buy his ticket before posting this, but it's official now: he'll be in Andalusia, Spain over the New Year with me and "Lady" to head out climbing. I'll be in the area for about 3.5 weeks visiting "Lady" during that time, too. We may hit a few different areas in Andalusia, but we're really gearing up for El Chorro.

More photos:

The Argument Against Aid Climbing

"We have a confirmed A5 pitch, here's the corpse - go..." - Chris Kalous

Climbing R-rated Routes

For some reason there has been a fair amount of talk regarding falling on gear, and it isn't just about falling on gear but more about how n00bs learn how to trust gear. Of course, there is a lot of information and advice out there that people can sift through, and some of that advice is pretty good. However, sorting through the crap and the good advice is difficult, especially for a beginning trad leader.

Life in the Hamster Tube

Another post from Ethiopia from my friend Nico, who is living, working, and apparently bagging a few climbs along the way. But the biggest question is, did the dog run away for good, or is there more to the story than a load of bird shit at the bottom of a chimney?

Life in the Hamster Tube

Wild Country Crack School

This is a series of great instructional videos put out by Wild Country to help beginners learn to climb crack. They're short, but they offer some decent advice on strategy and technique. The videos start with the thinnest cracks (fingers) and go to the widest (offwidths) before ending with how to protect cracks.

Finally!

Well, not much to write, except that I FINALLY got out climbing yesterday. Made it out to Anhagava with "Lost", "Rookie", and "Thunder" and everyone had a good day. It was the first time "Thunder" had made it to the top of an outdoor climb, and he did it twice, battling the voices in his head from the ground up without ever backing down. "Rookie" led another climb after having not led in several months, and "Lost" worked his way to the top of the most difficult climb that he and I attempted all day. I got that difficult climb clean, too, which surprised me considering the combination of long my lay-off and the fact that I hung about 20 times on the same route the last time I was on it.

The weather wasn't spot-on all day, as it sprayed a bit of rain on us from time to time, but really, the temps were perfect and the yellow light of the sun through the clouds made me wish I had brought my camera. I was fascinated by how the green of the vegetation sparkled in the valley below us and how the rock turned into a deep yellow just as the sun set behind us. The wall of fog that oscillated back and forth around the mountain often had wrapped our minds into nothing but the climbs above us. Not very crowded there, either, which is always nice for me.

We hiked out in the dark once the sun set. Short days here in South America now, and the night is much colder than the day without the sun's warmth. Only three climbs, but after two months, who can complain with such a nice day out?

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.

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.

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.