Flight of the Phoenix

In late 2009, my friend Ben Schmitt bolted a typical-looking Shelf Road face climb at Cactus Cliff.  The line climbs a beautiful white wall of limestone, featuring a brutally hard 5-or-so-move crux right in the middle of the wall.  When Ben put the hardware in, I was just finishing off the last of Shelf’s (existing) hardest routes.  I wasn’t really much into establishing routes at that time, and besides that, I didn’t really see any potential.  About a year earlier there was a thread on Mountain Project titled “No Hard Climbing at Shelf Road”, and (ironically) I actually defended that position, noting that (at that time) there were only 9 routes at Shelf harder than 5.13a.  The truth was, the visionaries who kept Shelf relevant through the 80′s and early 90′s had all moved on to greener pastures, and with the discovery of Rifle, few arrived to take their place, so development stalled for 15 years or so, until Ben arrived.

Carnage, my first Shelf Road First Ascent.

Ben is probably the most magnanimous and genuine climber I’ve ever met.  He showed me that the question of new-route-potential was simply a matter of perception.  I had to learn to look at these cliffs a little differently.  The following spring I worked and sent what was to become “Carnage”, at the time Shelf’s hardest free route, and the next route right of Ben’s line.  We spent a lot of time hanging out during this process, and he taught me to see Shelf in a new light. 

Ben’s route is a bit of an outlier for hard Shelf lines, in that its not tweaky, thin, or sharp, and doesn’t require especially skilled footwork.  This thing is burly and in your face.  Its something you would expect to find at Rifle’s Winchester Cave, not at Cactus Cliff.  

Ben put in a valiant effort to send the line, but eventually became burnt out by the low-percentage crux, and graciously encouraged me to try it.  I first tried it in 2010 with Ben, but I had other things on my plate, so I didn’t give it a serious effort.  I tried it again at the end of 2011 with my friend Sheldon, but I decided it was too late in the season for such a powerful climb, so I decided to come back early the following season.   In 2012, fresh off 3 weeks of good campusing, I spent three days on it, and made really good progress.  On the third day I tweaked my left ring A2 pulley while warming up on a nearby climb (never crimp a 2-finger pocket!).  The injury didn’t seem like much at the time, and I climbed through it that day, and for another few weeks before I realized I had a major problem on my hands (pun intended!).  I spent the rest of the Spring season, and the entire summer season, rehabbing this injury.

The line begins up the obvious crack, but then moves slightly right before heading straight up the bulge along the subtle, slightly right-angling seam.

With winter (and therefore, crisp temps at Shelf) rolling around once again, I decided in November to plan my following season around a few leftover projects at Shelf.  Eventually I got back to Cactus in late January.  Honestly, I was quite hesitant to try it, because I was never really sure which route was the primary cause of my finger injury, and I didn’t want to aggravate it.  But its hard for me to resist facing a climb that has shut me down.  All the climbs I’ve failed to master keep me up at night.  I knew I wouldn’t ever be satisfied until I proved to myself that I could climb this route.

The crux bulge is about 15 feet above a sit-down ledge, so there is no pump element to deal with.  The business boils down to executing a huge dyno after completing a succession of committing moves (at least, that’s how my sequence went).  Just by itself, the final dyno is a very low percentage move, but with just enough fatigue to get my hips sagging and sap what little contact strength I have, the move was downright frustrating.  After a few days of work I got to a point where I could hit the dyno 75% of the time off the dog, but climbing into it was another story.  The target hold is actually pretty good; a 2″ deep flat ledge.  But the holds setting up for the dyno are terrible and the feet are basically non-existant.  A quarter inch horizontal foothold anywhere on the wall would make the move trivial, but your feet are right in the bulge where everything is sloping down and into the wall, making it very difficult to generate any momentum from the legs.  Ultimately its a balancing act; trying to push just hard enough with the feet (and in the right direction–into the wall) that they don’t pop off before they’ve generated sufficient velocity.  I probably fell on this move alone a good 40 times off the dog and on redpoint.

Friday was forecast to be 42degF and mostly sunny in Canon City.  Pretty much ideal in my book, as long as we could get there through the snow in Denver.  Perhaps the best part of this process was re-visiting many of the great 5.11 and .12 lines at Cactus.  I got to polish off a number of awesome face climbs I had missed out on the first few times around, especially 14 Carats at The Vault, which climbs an amazing wall with continuous cruxy moves.  With the chilly morning temps, we headed to the far east end of Cactus to warmup and I did a rad little 11a on flawless stone, then Cro-Magnum, a brilliant prow of sinker pockets with a stopper dyno near the top.

Mid-flight on the crux dyno.

Honestly I felt kinda flat, but I’ve noticed through the years that there doesn’t seem to be any correlation between the way I “feel” during the warmup and how I perform on my project.  Many times I’ve felt awful or bumbled sequences only to end up sending a long-term project.  For example, the day I sent Scarface I fell on (Lower) Heinous Cling, a 5.12a that I had competely dialed and had sent probably 15 times before (Palo knows what I’m talking about; he was belaying IIRC).  My point being, you should always try, because you never know what might happen.  If you don’t try, you will definitely not succeed.

But I wasn’t very optimistic.  I climbed easily up to the crux, but fell on the second dyno, a short slap to a slippery, sloping sidepull.  Not real inspiring.  I hadn’t fallen that low on the route in my last 8 or so attempts.  For various reasons, this season had stretched out longer than I wanted, and it was starting to seem like my improving familiarity with the route was barely keeping pace with my fading fitness.  After a brief moment of self-pity, I pulled back on and sent through the crux.  Aha!  That was the most linkage I had ever had through the crux boulder problem.  Now I had something I could really believe in.  I brushed the key holds and lowered.  The burn only took about 10 minutes, so I just popped the heels off my shoes and maintained my concentration.  After a relatively short 10 minutes, I headed back up.

Sometimes when you send, everything just flows, and the route suddenly feels easy.  I knew that wouldn’t be the case on this route, ever.  This would be a struggle, no matter how many times I tried it.  The difference would have to be effort and perseverence despite the struggle.  Nothing felt different this time around.  The only difference was that when I arrived below the pivotal move I really believed for the first time that it was possible to stick on redpoint.  Rather than a split-second thought of “prepare to fall”, my mind said “this is possible”.  I wasn’t any less pumped, but when I hit the ledge I refused to let go.  The move is almost a double dyno; the trailing hand is on a miserable sloper, so you have to match very quickly to control the swing.  As I threw my low hand up to match, my right foot popped off, but I was able to get my right hand up before I came off. 

Sticking the crux dyno.

There is one more really iffy move just above the ledge, so I didn’t do any celebrating.  I had never had a chance to really climb into this, so I expected it would feel much harder with a pump.  Surprisingly, I wasn’t pumped at all, so after a brief shake I rocked up onto the ledge a breathed a huge sigh of relief.  20-more feet of relatively trivial face climbing brought me to the chains and the first free ascent of Flight of the Phoenix.  Flight for the big dyno (and my countless wingers there), and Phoenix for my recovery from injury.  Sending this route is like coming full-circle.  The finger is now stronger than it was before the injury, and there is one less route out there to interrupt my sleep!

Now to everyone’s favorite topic: the grade.  This is hands-down the hardest route at Shelf for me, but I really suck at this type of climbing, so I don’t have much confidence in my ability to grade such a route.  Compared to other short 5.14ish climbs I’ve done (like Busload of Faith, Come Home Curly, or Smoke Shapes, all at Sinks), this is much harder.  But those climbs all suit my physical strengths, length notwithstanding (and I think they’re all on the easy side of ‘a).  I’ve heard others suggest the crux of Flight might be V11, but again, I’m really not qualified to grade a boulder problem of this style.  With that in mind, I prefer to be conservative.  I’m certainly open to the opinions of past and future suitors.  It would be awesome to have a harder-than-14a route at Shelf to attract some of Boulder’s superstars down to our humble little limestone cliffs, but I’m certain that will happen eventually regardless.

I owe a huge debt of gratitude to Ben for bolting and invisioning the route, and for showing me what Shelf still has left to offer.  I also want to give a shout out to the various partners that have held the other end of the rope at one time or another on this campaign: Ben, Sheldon, Wes, Logan, Nate and of course Kate, who put up with 30-degree temps and intermittent snow flurries over the last few weeks.  Thanks to all of you!

Raise the Roof

Yesterday afternoon I set a new personal best on the Lazy H campus board.  I did a max ladder of 1-8-15 (metolius spacing; 4″ o.c.). 

I realize this is not a super amazing feat, and has been bettered by countless climbers, but its a landmark for me because my board (and therefore my imagination) only has 15 rungs.  When I built the Lazy H in 2008 I scarcely dreamed I would ever need to increase the height of my board; that first season the best I managed was 1-6-11.  The only reason I went as high as 15 was because rungs are sold in packs of five.  The upper few rungs were more of a pipe dream than anything else. 

I bring this up to emphasize two training-related points (besides to spray and post a video of myself with my shirt off): the power of goals and the value of quantfying and tracking the results of your training.  Almost as soon as the dust of construction had settled, that 15th rung became a goal (albeit an unlikely one).  Furthermore, because it was visible and tangible during each campus session, it gave me continuous motivation to get the most out of my training.  Every time I went to the campus board I could see my goal sitting there, gathering dust, waiting for me to get better.  The opportunity to achieve a victory each and every session, even a “plastic” victory, pushes me to put in that extra bit of effort, get enough sleep, eat properly, and focus during the workout.

Quantifying my performance on the campus board, and comparing my progress from season to season has paid huge dividends.  Each season we all strive to be a little bit better than the previous season, but without a yard stick, its really difficult to know what that means.  How good was I last season?  I sent some routes and failed on others.  Were the routes I sent soft?  Were the ones I failed on stiff?  There’s a lot of subjectivty (and therefore ambiguity) on the performance end of our sport.   

This is another area where training (and more specifically, quantifying & documenting our training) can lend a hand.  I know how good I was last season, because I have an emperical record of each hangboard workout, campus session, and power endurance interval I completed.  I can compare that data to this season and its plainly obvious, regardless of how my outdoor projects work out, that I am tangibly stronger than I was last season.  That information alone is extremely motivating; it confirms I’m on the right path (or one of the right paths, anyway) regardless of whether the plethora of circumstances affecting outdoor performance (weather, partners, route selection…) go in my favor.

Now I have a new problem, I need to figure out how to raise the roof of the Lazy H so I can add  the next 5 rungs to my campus board, although that should be trivial compared to the task of expanding my imagination to accomodate those rungs.

Maple

Back in August my good friend and “Route Setter to the Stars” Lee Brinkerhoff emailed me to inquire about potential Fall climbing vacations.  Lee is an amazing climber who never seems to get pumped.  He is a master on sight climber and I’ve learned a lot watching him climb over the years.  I met Lee at the end of the last millenium when he was managing Stoneage Climbing Gym in Albuquerque.  Stoneage has the best route setting of any of the 50 or so gyms I’ve climed at, and Lee is a big reason for that.  Lee has set for national comps and helped nurture the likes of Cody Roth and Jon Cardwell.  Lee was my partner on Serpentine (Taipan Wall, Australia) when by dumb luck we happened to run into each other at the Grampians Campground. 

Working out the beta for Lee’s flash of Serpentine, 5.13b.

After much negotiation we settled on Maple Canyon, UT over Halloween.  I tried to convince Lee that we should go earlier in the season, but he really likes cold rock and insisted we arrive just before the first storms of winter.  I had climbed at Maple once back in 2004, and managed to climb exactly one route before a massive thunderstorm erupted causing flash floods in the Box Canyon.  I’ve wanted to return for a long time so I was quite excited when we finally made it out.

The canyon is quite unnasuming from the highway and could be easily overlooked by someone searching for a world class sport crag.  Once in the canyon a maze of cobble-coated slots appear around every corner.  Bulbous hoodos and soaring buttresses pierce the skyline.  This is the type of crag that is just fun to look at, even if your feet never leave the ground.

Kate crushing the Waterfall Route

I decided to focus my energy on on sighting, and just generally trying to climb as many routes as possible at as many different crags as possible.  With so many nooks and crannies there are many different crags to visit and they all seem to offere a little something different.  Fortunately the canyon is densely populated so its pretty easy to visit multiple walls in a single day. 

The objective for day one was to investigate the notorious Pipe Dream cave.  This thing is massive, with rope stretching routes that clip as many as 30 bolts.  The Waterfall Route was one of the best 5.11s I did all week but the 5.10s were a bit slopey and dusty.  I did the classic Orgasmo then attempted to on sight Sprout, apparently the best of the 13a’s that climb out the main cave.  It was a good effort complete with wild dynos but I hosed the kneebar beta turning the lip of the cave.  Next I did Deliverance which turned out to be one of my favorite routes of the trip.

The name pretty much says it all: Orgasmo, 5.12c

That night was Halloween and we were all anxious to take the boys trick-or-treating so we could raid their stash after they went to bed.  We stayed at the Red Apple Cottage in Fountain Green which was an awesome experience we plan to repeat.  The first order of business was to carve our pumpkins, and we even got a few Trick-or-Treaters before the pumpkins were done.  We got the kids suited up then headed over to the park where there was a “Trunk or Treat” in progress.  This novel innovation entails a line of cars in the parking lot with folks handing out candy from their tailgates.  As an engineer I was very satisfied by the efficiency of this development.  As a lazy glutton I was stoked that we wouldn’t need to get any unintended exercise walking from house to house for a single fun size snickers.  I have to say though, it takes some of the fun/challenge out of trying to race around town to maximize your take.  I was happy to see that most of the kids went door-to-door once the trunk line was exhausted.

Dylan & Logan show off their costumes and pumpkins at the Red Apple Cottage.

The next climbing day we started at the Box Canyon which was quite cold.  After some fun warmups (including the enjoyable Brown Hole) I attempted a couple of harder routes, in particular Captain Bullet which was outstanding in movement and position.  Unfortunately I blew the onsight when I fumbled one of the roof holds and was unable to clip.  I ran it out to the next draw, hoping to find a clipping jug (which I didn’t), then whipped in spectacular fashion, clearing the berm of the road by only a few feet.  Next we headed to Pipeline where I did a number of fun lines, in particular Golden Boy and Chia Pet.

The line at the Trunk or Treat. Despite no prior experience, Logan picked up the Trick or Treat thing really fast. It must be instinctive.

That night my buddy Steve Bechtel arrived with his 4-1/2 year-old son Sam, and it was a full on slumber party at the Red Apple Cottage.  Dylan and Sam hit it off right away and Logan was simply in awe of their boundless energy and…let’s say, “volume”.  It was a really fun next few days with the kids playing on the rocks and toddlers playing in the dirt. 

Saturday we hit the Minimum crag which is an outstanding, tall cliff overhangning around 20 degrees.  All of the routes I did on this wall were excellent long enduro jughauls (Zoaster Toaster was probably my favorite route of the trip), and it was a great hang for the kids (though a bit cold).  Next we hit the Zen Garden and Craggenmore, where we climbed another great 5.11, The Black Waterfall.  The Knezek guidebook has a stunning photo of Stupid Sexy Flanders (on Simpson Rock) and that photo, along with the irresistable name, had me itching to give it a go, so I did that to end the day.

Attempting Captain Bullet. Probably should clipped that draw at my waist. Photo Lee Brinkerhoff.

The final day was a flurry of cleaning and packing, ending with a quick trip to the Low Standard Cave, which has another great 5.11 (Oneida) and a worthy 12a (When Cobbles Fly).  Steve suckered me into Eat Your Liver, which is kinda neat but probably best saved for someone who has climbed all of the more obvious options.  Fortunately he cleaned it for me as it overhangs severely.  We finished off the trip with a quick stop at the Windshield Wiper wall on the way out.  This cliff is reminiscent of Minimum, though not quite as steep and a bit less clean.  The climbs were stellar and with traffic will become among the very best at Maple.

The trip was probably the most fun I’ve had climbing in several years.  The routes are just plain fun and the glassy smooth rock allows you to climb for days on end.  There was a great group of people and perfect weather.  By the end of the week I think I even started to figure out how to climb cobbles.  I can’t wait to go back!

Passing the Time

The past few weeks have been a whirlwind of climbing, traveling, and more climbing.  I apologize for neglecting my blog, but now you will be rewarded with a barage of tails of my exciting adventures

I spent the latter half of October working a route in Clear Creek Canyon called “Primetime to Shine”.  This is a linkup of two popular Peter Beal 14a’s, “Primeval” and “Shine”.  I’m usually not a big fan of linkups but this one is a rare example of a linkup that actually improves on the piece parts.  The Primo Wall is fairly short (maybe 35 feet tall?) and the geometry is such that the ‘straight up’ lines are really only continuous for a little over half the height of the wall.  The ‘Primetime’ linkup traverses left and up through the middle of a steep shield of stone, keeping the line hard for a good 30 or so hand moves.  The result is one of the most continuous hard lines on the Front Range. 

Most of “Primetime to Shine”  Photo: Jay Samuelson

The route is basically a classic power endurance sprint, so it made for a good objective to focus the efforts of my Power Endurance phase.  Lately I’ve been experimenting with different types of Interval training, besides the classic “4×4″ method that I have extensive experience with.  I used a 32-move “route” for my intervals.  I did about one workout a week, which consisted of at least 4 laps (but as many as I could do without failing), starting with 4 minutes rest for the first workout.  A lap would take a little bit less than 2 minutes to climb, so the work to rest ratio started at about 1:2, with the goal of getting it down to 1:1 by reducing the rest interval by 30 seconds to a minute for each subsequent workout.  When I first set this route in the summer of 2010, I couldn’t send it once with several sessions of work.  Its very motivating to now see myself sending 5 or 6 times in a 20 minute period!

The Green Traverse, 5.13+?

The rock on the Primo Wall is nearly flawless Gneiss, and the route climbs a variety of interesting features, starting with wicked hard crimping up a steepening prow to a series of desparate moves to reach a big sloping ledge.  At this point the climbing transitions from frantic crimping to desparate sloper moves as the line veers left, away form the Primeval finish.  Gymnastic slaps and heel hooks lead straight into the ‘Shine’ crux, which involves a combination of slopers and crimps to reach an odd pegmatite scoop that is best compared to a 2-finger pocket.  If you latch this hold you’re most likely going to send (eventually), but there are still another 10 or so pumpy sloper moves that dashed my redpoint effort more than once.

The campaign was a rollercoaster ride with a lot of ups and downs, and a good lesson in the perils of over-confidence.  The wall is tricky to hit in good conditions in the fall; ideally you would climb here in the dead of winter when cold temps would be guaranteed.  The wall is in the shade until around 10am or so, then bakes in the sun until 4pm.  We bounced back and forth between morning and evening climbing sessions which made it hard to find a good rhythm.   The evening sessions were agonizing because I had to sit around the house all day trying to “save” myself for the evening climbing.  The morning sessions were a complete waste; either the rock was bitterly cold and I would numb out, or I would fail to get a sufficient warmup and get shutdown on the powerful starting moves. 

I one-hanged the route pretty early on, which lead to the ill-advised “next try” mentallity.  Thinking I would surely send “next try”, I put less and less time into each burn, in order to “save” my skin/strength/etc for the next try.  In my experience this is the ticket to a long, protracted and frustrating series of fruitless burns.  The silly part was that I was well aware of what I was doing, but still so confident that I figured it was worth the gamble.  It wasn’t! 

But some lessons are so helpful they’re worth learning several times.  Near the end of October we got the first real snow storm on the Front Range, which brought nice cold temps along with 6″ or so of snow.  The conditions made it possible to climb mid-day which was just what I needed.  For some reason trekking to the crag through snow drifts seems to bring out the best in me.  Perhaps its the solitude that comes with such situations, but I think its simply the cold stone.

Icicles over Primeval. The wet pinch appears to be about a foot directly below the lowest quickdraw.

When we arrived I was disheartened to see big icicles coming off the top of Primeval.  The wall is so steep it hadn’t really occured to me that seapage might be a problem.  The route looked pretty much dry, except for a right hand pinch that sets up the dyno to the big sloping ledge at the end of the Primeval crux, and the last 2 or 3 holds below the chains.  I always figure when redpointing its worth a try no matter the conditions, but I had pretty low expectations.  The dyno had shut me down on a number of attempts so I couldn’t really see sticking it with a wet hand. 

The rock was crisp but not overly-frigid.  I flowed through the opening sequence with relative ease.  After a risky and strenuous clip the right hand moves to an awkward spike, then a big high step and left hand to a small, sharp crimp.  Perch on the righ foot, suck in the hips and then slap the right to the wet pinch.  I could feel the water but my hand stuck.  Fortunately I’ve dialed this dyno to the point that its virtually static; the key is to keep the feet from cutting loose in order to control the swing…stuck.  Dry my hand and shake.  Wetness is no longer  an issue but the hand is much colder than usual from the water.  This is one of those rests that isn’t really that restful, and you wonder if you would be better off sprinting.  At only around 10 moves in, you aren’t pumped, just numb.  I stay long enough to get most of the feeling back in my hands and press on linking intermittent rails. 

De-booting post-send with the upper route behind.

A newly discovered foothold makes a once-desparate slap trivial, and on to the Shine crux.  This part always feels desparate but if you just keep motoring and ignore the insecurity you won’t fall.  Match the sloper rail, left foot way high, rock up and reach high to the pocket.  Gaston with the right, then dyno for the “jug”.  This time I’m not pumped.  Clip the bolt, chalk up, and finally appreciate how peaceful this canyon can be on a secluded snowy day.  The second-to-last hold is wet but incut, leading to a blind slap to a jug over the lip; probably wet–hopefully not filled with snow or worse, ice.  I consider clipping from the lower crimp, but after a slight hesitation I go for the jug.  I’ve never been so relieved to find a hold full of water!

Dreams of Ten Sleep

It was a long, hot summer on the Colorado Front Range, so after a seemingly interminable climbing drought the family was fired up to head north and check out the latest rage that is Ten Sleep Canyon.  We’ve had lousy luck when it comes to Ten Sleep.  I first bought the guidebook in the Spring of 2007, with plans to head there that coming summer.  I developed a curious Sesamoid injury (that’s in your foot) that was mis-diagnosed as a stress fracture, so I spent that entire summer in a walking boot, meaning Ten Sleep would have to wait.  I don’t exactly recall our excuses for the next four summers, but to sum up, each year we made firm plans to go to Ten Sleep, each year those plans fell through, and each year the new edition of the Ten Sleep guidebook doubled in size.

The French Cattle Ranch, its just like France!

So you can imagine my surprise when we finally rolled through Ten Sleep Canyon early on Friday morning.  My objective for the trip was my friend Matt Wendling’s brilliant “Sky Pilot” and the recently tacked on extension at the aptly named “French Cattle Ranch”.  The highest compliment we can bestow on an American limestone crag is to compare it favorably to France.  This has been a running joke between me and Kate for literally ten years, when we first began exploring the limestone crag of Palomas outside of Albuquerque.  During one of our first visits we met some friendly chaps from Durango that had been lured several hundred miles to our humble bluffs by the dubious claim that it was ‘just like France’. 

But the Sector D’or et Bleu really is just like France–except that France has a lot more routes and the crowds to go along with them.   Not to worry, with five 5.14s, as many 5.13s and a number of projects, there is plenty to keep you busy.  The rock is beautiful pocketed stone, overhanging at barely 5 degrees, involving extremely thin, tweaky and technical climbing.  I imagine this is what the hard routes at Buoux are like: invisible footholds, half-pad monos, and calf-straining in their continuity.

Kate warming up on Tutu at the FCR.

After a fun warmup on the popular Tutu and the diminutive Lil Smokey I put two burns into my project.  To be honest I was a bit dismayed by the continuity of the line.  I hadn’t done a lick of Power Endurance training in almost a year, and I was assuming the hard lines here would have short, bouldery cruxes with lots of rest like the lines in Lander.  Although my power was as good as ever, I didn’t fancy my chances of stringing together so many hard moves in only three climbing days of work.  Wendling’s original vision ends at what is currently the 9th bolt, and it was all I could do to suss the moves to that point on my first go.  The next burn was dedicated to figuring out the newer 4-bolt extension.  I had decided to gamble and go for the whole enchilada, accepting that the effort expended working the harder finish may sabotage my chance at sending the easier original pitch.  I was able to work out all the moves, but they seemed unlikely to coalesce in such a short period of time.

After a long day of driving and climbing we headed in to Ten Sleep to explore the dining options.  Or should I say option.   I hear Ten Sleep is a bustling tourist town in the summer, but by early October the show has moved on.  The only establishment still open was the Ten Sleep Saloon, which fortunately had a diverse menu (the Carne Asada burritos I ordered were outstanding).  The real shock was that there was not a single grocery store in the entire town.  We had never even considered such a possibility.  We had enough power bars to get us to the summit of Everest but we had no real food.  A quick stop at the Pony Express convenience store lead to a brief panic attack at the thought of eating rotisserie hotdogs and HoHo’s for the next four days.  We were extremely elated to discover that full-service Worland was only 25 miles further west down US16, and made plans to visit first thing the next morning.

Some interesting possibilities at Castle Gardens

I’m a big advocate of rest days, primarily for injury prevention, but also for the plain fun of it.  The great sport crags of America all seem to be in the middle of nowhere, and it turns out there is a lot of fun to be had in such places.  We were psyched to explore a new venue.  We headed out to find Castle Gardens, somewhere in the badlands between Ten Sleep and Worland.  I managed to get us lost literally within 100 yds of turning off the highway, but after a twisting 20-mile detour we found the clearly posted sign pointing the correct route.  The Gardens are formed by gnarled hoodoos of Mesa Verde Sandstone and were a big hit with Logan.

My favorite rest day activity is staring at rocks, so after a grocery stop in Worland and an afternoon nap for Logan we headed up Ten Sleep Canyon to check out the seemingly unlimited supply of Big Horn Dolomite.  Far too much for one rock-staring session, so we planned to focus on the right half of the Mondo Beyondo cliffband.  The Slavery wall looked amazing, stacked with fun, steep lines and beautiful marble-streaked stone.  We passed countless tempting lines along the hike, and lots of friendly climbers taking advantage of the cool evening temps. 

The next crag to take my breath away was the Superratic Pillar, which lives up to its billing.  This crag also hosts a number of hard lines, but I was disappointed to see an obviously drilled pocket on “F’d in the A”.  I think its pretty sad that chipping is still taking place in this day and age.  I’d like to think that as a community we’ve learned from the short-sighted mistakes of the past.  Anyway, enough ranting.  Two lines here really caught my eye, “Hellion” and “He Biggum….”; I would love to return for these routes some day.

Logan on good toddling terrain at Sector Shinto

The next order of business was to find a good crag for warming up.  Logan is right at the age where he can walk like a champ and is starting to run–on flat, level ground.  Not much of that at Ten Sleep, so it was a real challenge to find crags where he could cruise around unsupervised.  By dumb luck the Sector D’or et Bleu was just such a crag, but there weren’t many good warmups there.  And frankly, Ten Sleep’s best-selling point is its plethora of delightful 5.10s and 5.11s.  We wanted to sample as many as possible during our short trip.  So we continued along the cliff to the far end of the FCR in search of crags with a nice flat base for worry free toddling.  The Big Kahuna Pillar had just what we were looking for, and a new cliff, the aptly named “Whiny Baby Wall”, though not ideal, was serviceable with a creative belay strategy.

“Racing Babies”, an airy arete at the BIg Kahuna Pillar.

With temps nearing 80 degrees in town, we decided to wait till the shade arrived to start our next climbing day.  This strategy backfired when Logan began falling asleep on the short drive to the crag.  Logan takes one nap per day, and that must coincide with climbing to get the most out of the crag day.  We knew if he fell asleep he wouldn’t take another nap, so we rolled down the windows, started tickling him, singing songs, and generally driving like maniacs to get us to the cliff before he went down.  Fortunately he brightened right up once it was time for the approach hike, and he took a nice long nap as soon as we got to the crag, allowing us to climb two stellar 5.10s and a nice 5.11 at Sector Shinto. 

I was able to get through the redpoint crux on my first attempt of the day on Sky Pilot, but I couldn’t get decent recovery at the mid-point rest.  I was able to fight through the growing pump for a few more bolts but eventually grabbed the last draw to forfeit the battle.  Normally I would beat myself up over such an act, but I hesitated for quite a while to consider the situation before throwing in the towel and I think it was the right call.  Falling while clipping is not an acceptable option in my opinion.  No single burn is worth getting hurt over.  After a nice long rest I was able to put some good work into the crux sections and find some slightly better rest stances, hinting that I might have a shot at this thing after all.  Unfortunately the slow building pump took so much out of me that I was pretty much shot for the day.  I gave it another go but it was over almost as soon as it started. 

Finishing up the entrance exam of Sky Pilot while Logan naps below.

At this point in the project cycle we approach the “Bargaining” stage.  What would I be willing to trade for a redpoint?  I have no firm plans for the next few weekends, but a quick look at the forecast reveals four consecutive days of snow, beginning the day after our planned departure.  Will Tuesday be the last day of the 2012 Ten Sleep climbing season?  One day left for all the marbles…

Sky Pilot is in your face from the get go, with long cranks off a pair of tight monos that feel more like finger locks.  This time slapping for the marginal rest jug seems relatively routine.  Not really pumped yet, so no need to shake, except my left middle finger tip is numb from the mono-lock.  After a few chalk cycles I step up to an awkward pod and execute a gymnastic traverse that leads to the redpoint crux.  A big stretch to a shallow sloping two finger pocket spit me off twice on redpoint.  Getting the pocket isn’t so bad but the hold is so smooth its very difficult to dead hang, let alone pull past.  As luck would have it, the otherwise plentiful footholds suddenly vanish right at this point, making the move downright desperate.  My solution is a tiny foot chip–really, a calcite stain–less than half a millimeter deep.  Fortunately I have a brand new out of the box pair of Tenaya Inti’s. 

Beginning the traverse with a big cross to a two-finger pocket.

Today is the hottest day of the trip, and with a 6+hour drive still on the agenda, there is no time to wait for cliff to cool off.  The pocket feels as slimy as ever, and I’m nearly certain this will fail, but I stick to my beta and pop my left hand to a miserable sloper, followed immediately by the right hand to another sloper just above the pivotal pocket.  Amazingly I’m still on, so I cruise to the route’s one truly good shake and set up camp.  Literally 10 minutes pass, including a super-not-recommended T-shirt removal episode that thankfully provided slight relief from the oppressive heat.  I can feel myself passing the point of diminishing returns and decide its now or never.  A big high step leads to a three-finger crimp, a shallow 2-finger dish, and a marginal shake in a shallow scoop.  This rest is a trap, so I shake only long enough to clip, chalk up, and rehearse the ensuing boulder problem in my mind. 

Mantle, scrunchy stem–powerful clip feels effortless this time.  Chalk one last time, cross, precarious wide stem, gaston, left hand to sharp mono, shuffle then bump to sinker mono, jug.  Clip the 9th bolt.  Sky Pilot is in the bag, so I won’t leave empty-handed, but the extension is looming.  Another trap shake at the Sky Pilot anchor, then quickly up through a sea of sharp coral dishes and micro crimps to another dubious rest stance.  The shake is good but hellish on the legs.  My left calf is screaming for relief but my fingers can’t take the extra strain.  Much longer here and I won’t be able to feel my feet…

Match the last good pocket, work the feet up.  Right hand: half-pad mono.  Step up, lock off mono to right shoulder.   Hips right, left hand windmill to two-finger chip.  Stand up tall, belly to rock, stab right hand to half-pad mono; precision is key.  Bump left foot.  Breath.  The jug looks too far. “Watch me!”  Dyno to jug…. 

That’s all for now, but we will be returning to Ten Sleep soon….

…STUCK!

It doesn’t happen very often, and perhaps that’s what makes it so sweet, but sometimes, everything just works out perfectly.

Lander Bound!

I will be at the 2012 International Climber’s Festival in Lander, Wyoming, from 12-15 July.  For those unfamiliar, Lander is probably the single most climber-friendly town in America, and they really know how to put on a party for climbers.  More details on the event can be found at http://climbersfestival.org/ 

There’s no place like Lander!

I will be at the Trango tent at the Trade Fair on Friday, and teaching a clinic with Chris Barlow on Saturday.  Unfortunately as of today it looks like the clinic is full, but if you’re at the festival, drop by the Trango tent if you’d like to talk training, get beta for Lander’s many classic routes, or just chat.  The fair is supposed to run 8 hours so I’ll be desparate for people to talk to!

I also hope to do some actual climbing and a little bit of beer drinking so look for me at Wild Iris and the Lander Bar if you can’t make the Trade Fair.  I look forward to seeing old friends and making some new ones–hope to see you there!

Welcome to my Blog!

I avoided the siren’s call to create a blog for many years, but now that blogging is passe, it seems like the appropriate moment for me to jump on the bandwagon.  Hopefully the climbing community will find this page useful. 

About My Blog

My intention is to cover three main topics: 1) Strategies and methods for training to maximize climbing performance, 2) My random thoughts about any and all things climbing related, be it “style”, “ethics”, what’s hot, what’s not, cool new crags, products etc., and 3) Obligatory spray (bragging about my personal climbing accomplishments).  If I’m lucky, I will accomplish these three goals and provide the reader with the occasional laugh at the same time. 

Why “Lazy H Climbing Club”? I’m fortunate to live in an amazing little spot in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains, just west of Denver, Colorado.  We have a 2.5 acre lot that came with a small, delapidated barn.  The barn had the name “Lazy H” scrawled across the top in wooden cut-out letters.  My first order of business when we moved in was to convert the Lazy H into a miniature climbing gym. Hence the name.

About  Me

For those that don’t know me, I’ve been a climber for about 20 years or so.  I enjoy all forms of climbing, and I’ve been pretty successful at every type of climbing I’ve pursued.  As an alpinist I’ve climbed Denali’s Cassin Ridge, Devil’s Thumb, and the Greenwood-Locke on Mt. Temple’s North Face.  In the realm of Trad climbing I’ve freed Yosemite’s El Capitan, and climbed numerous 5.13s.  As a sport climber I’ve redpointed 5.14c and on-sighted 5.13b. 

 

Despite these statistics, I’m pretty much a “regular Joe”.  I have a beautiful wife (Kate), a 14-month-old son (Logan), a mortgage and a 40-hour-a-week desk job.  I love climbing, but I also love having the things that most “normal” folks enjoy.  I love the NFL (Go Bears!), I watch network sitcoms, and I destroyed the competition in the College Football pick ‘em contest at work.  I’m an avid cyclist, having ridden the entire Oregon Coast and, my proudest cycling feat, pedaled from my house to the summit of Mt Evans (14K+’ of climbing, 90 miles, round trip).  How have I managed to balance my personal life with my climbing career?  Hopefully this blog will help shed some light on that subject.  If you have any specific questions regarding training or tactics, please don’t hesitate to ask.  It always helps to get some feedback on what your audience is looking for.

Happy reading!

Mark Anderson