(Photo: Gail finishing up the traverse on the 5.8+ pitch one of Birdie Party.)

I have been trying to get ready for my trip to Yosemite next week.

I went to the new gym in NYC, the Cliffs of Long Island City, and threw myself at the easiest of their three crack climbs. Several times, I tried it. It wasn't pretty. When it comes to hand cracks, I have my work cut out for me. I am going back again this week. And while we are in Berkeley, before we drive out to Yosemite, I hope to practice on some of the crack climbs at the Berkeley Iron Works, if I can find a partner.

In addition to working on my crack climbing skills, I have attempted to get some mileage on real rock in the Gunks. It has not been easy to find any climb-worthy days in the last few weeks. The weekends have been rainy.

Gail and I made a go of it one Saturday. Of course, it had rained on Friday and was supposed to rain on Saturday and Sunday as well. But on Saturday the rain was supposed to hold off until the late afternoon, so we decided to go for it and hope for the best. Sometimes insane optimism pays off.


(Photo: Looking down at the first pitch of Frog's Head (5.6-).)

As I drove up I could already tell it wasn't going to be worth it. It was raining at exit 15 in Sloatsburg. (Then again, isn't it always?) It wasn't raining when Gail and I arrived at the cliffs but everything felt a bit slick. It was just warm enough for climbing, probably 42 degrees, but there was a damp chill in the air. I backed off of Baby (5.6) when my fingers started to feel numb inside the off-width. We ended up getting just four slimy pitches in before it started raining in earnest just after noon.

Desperate for more time outside, I agreed to meet Gail again on a weekday that had a more favorable forecast.

This time we had better luck, though again the day started out feeling cold and damp. We began with moderates and never got around to doing anything really challenging.

This past Sunday the weather gods seemed poised finally to deliver the kind of glorious Spring day we'd all been waiting for. Gail and I got out by 9:30 and headed straight for the Mac Wall. I was hoping the routes would be dry because there were several climbs there that were suddenly high on my agenda.

The Mac Wall is well-liked, and for good reason: it has a high concentration of good 5.10's, all in a row, one after another. But until this past weekend I'd never done any of them except the ones on the left side (Interstice (5.10d) and Mother's Day Party (5.10b)), which I could set up as a top-rope from easier climbs. And I've led the Dangler (5.10a), but I'm not sure that really counts as a Mac Wall ten.

The prime reason I've stayed away from most of the popular Mac Wall tens is that, knowing only their reputations, I am scared of them. Each one has its own fright-inducing aspects for the budding 5.10 leader. Try Again (5.10b), for example, has some poorly protected 5.9 climbing off of a ledge and a crux roof protected by an ancient pin. Coexistence (5.10d) has 20-30 feet of 5.8 R/X climbing right off of the deck. Star Action (5.10b) features a crux dyno 60 to 70 feet off the ground. Graveyard Shift (5.10d) just seems scary, period. The name alone is terrifying. And finally, Tough Shift (5.10a) is supposed to have a big runout after the crux move around a corner.

Another reason I've avoided these climbs is that the Mac Wall tends to be incredibly crowded. It sits right at the top of the Stairmaster approach to the Trapps and there are many bolted anchors. Groups of top-ropers regularly hog multiple lines for hours on end. Not my idea of a great time.

But as the new season approached I decided I might be ready to start to fill the Mac Wall hole in my resume. With the annual spring peregrine closure likely to restrict access to some or all of these climbs it seemed like time was of the essence. I thought maybe I could lead Star Action. The pro was reputed to be good. I'd just have to suck it up and try the dyno. And I thought I could handle Try Again safely, making sure I got the best pro I could at the dicey bits and backing off if necessary. I was even considering leading Tough Shift, because, well, how bad could it be? What could possibly go wrong?

We weren't the first party to arrive at the Mac Wall on Sunday but Gail and I had our choice of lines. We decided to start off with a climb I love, Birdie Party. I thought maybe we'd do the 5.10b roof on pitch two if I felt good leading the 5.8+ pitch one.

Right off the bat I did something incredibly stupid. I got up on the wall and with my feet perhaps six feet off the ground I tried to worm a small nut into the vertical seam beneath the good holds. I thought I'd placed one there before. After some tinkering it seemed I had a solid placement. As I said "this seems pretty good!" to Gail I gave the nut a dramatic tug and, wouldn't you know it, it popped right out and I was suddenly flying off the wall. On instinct I converted the fall into a jump and in a split second I landed squarely on my heels next to Gail on the ground. It happened so fast Gail didn't even see it.

I felt fine but I waited a minute to get back on the wall. I worried that I'd sprained or broken something and that the pain would come on over time. This was just what I needed, an injury right before my big climbing trip! But luckily I seemed to be okay and I was able to go right back to climbing.

The second time around I ignored the nut placement and instead placed a hybrid cam in a little v-slot above the seam so I was protected for the smeary move up to the little ledge. The rest of the pitch went well, much to my relief, and soon enough I'd completed the thrilling traverse to the MF (5.9) bolts. This first pitch of Birdie Party, including the traverse, is one of the very best 5.8 pitches in the Gunks. It is full of good moves and the ending is just superb, exposed and exciting.


By the time Gail reached the end of the pitch it had become much more crowded at the wall. Climbers were coming up both Birdie Party and MF behind us. And the stance at the MF bolts isn't very comfortable. I decided I shouldn't subject Gail to waiting there in a crowd while I tried the second pitch. I suggested to her that we rap and go somewhere else.

But when we got down I saw that there was no one on the right side of the Mac Wall, where the tens I wanted to lead reside. So I gave them a look. Star Action was a wet, seepy mess through the crux, so that one was out. But Try Again appeared to be dry, so I decided to go for it. I wasn't concerned as much with the on-sight (though I hoped to get the roof cleanly) as I was with being safe and reasonable. I told myself to not be afraid to leave a piece and bail, and to take it slow.

I liked the climb. The early going up an easy left-facing corner to a big ledge is no problem. Then you confront a blank face right above the ledge with thin moves up to a dramatically leaning, right-facing corner. There isn't any real gear for the blank face. I got two small nuts in opposition placed in low horizontals, not far off the ledge, which I chained together with a carabiner so they wouldn't pop out. But these nuts were only to make sure I didn't fall further than the ledge. There was no gear available to prevent a ledge fall if I blew the moves on the blank face.



(Photo: Gail at the crux roof on Try Again (5.10b).)
Once you pass the blank face there are some interesting moves up two right-facing corners with good gear, and then comes the crux roof. When I reached the roof I saw that the pin seemed to be brand new! Someone had replaced it. Hallelujah. I clipped it and looked for other back-up gear, but I didn't find anything.

The stance under the roof was strenuous but by leaning into the corner I found I could shake out a bit....

And then I went for it. News flash: I failed. I thought the challenge on Try Again was supposed to be finding the holds above the roof, but I saw holds all over the place. For me the real challenge was choosing the right ones! It took me three tries to step up just right. I think I have it now; I could cruise it next time. I know I always say this. I'm as predictable as the rain in Sloatsburg.

Once above the roof I was kind of shocked to see the climbing wasn't over. I needed to make two or three more thin moves up and right to a flaky rooflet where there would be gear. With my feet above the pin, feeling shaky and pumped out, I had to calm myself and make sure my moves were precise until I could get to the gear. Once I carefully made these moves it was all done.

It felt good to go for it on Try Again but it took a lot out of me. I was safe about it but very slow, tense and deliberate. I don't know if my head is really back in shape yet for the season. It is a quality route, and though it is broken up by ledges it has several fun sequences and a great roof problem. If you place the nuts off the first ledge it is not a horror show and the new pin definitely helps.

After Gail attacked Try Again, solving it differently than the way I did it, we decided we might as well top-rope Coexistence, a climb I thought I would likely never feel confident enough to lead. Why not check it out?


This is a great great pitch! Much better than Try Again. High quality the whole way, with good 5.8+ moves over a bulge at the start and then some steep climbing up a diagonal crack to a right-facing corner and crux roof. For me the hardest technical move came in the diagonal crack. Maybe I did it wrong. After I sneaked past the crack it seemed like I attacked the corner just right, nailing the reach to the horizontal beneath the roof and then blasting over the roof, proudly, on my first try. The whole way up I was thinking I would never lead it but now.... I really think I might do it one day. The issue is the pro during the early 5.8+ climbing. There is very little gear there, though a small cam might protect the hardest move. If this tiny cam is good then it probably isn't soooo dangerous, though there is still some do-not-fall territory after the protected move. There is dynamite gear for the roof crux at the end of the pitch.

(Photo: Getting into the real business of Coexistence (5.10d).)

After Gail also top-roped Coex we decided to move on. The Mac Wall had become packed with people, both friends and strangers. My gym friend Leo was there and Gail ran into her Philly pal Olivier. While Gail was still climbing Coex I counted over twenty climbers in my immediate field of vision. It was time to go.


(Photo: A typical Mac Wall crowd on a Sunday.)

As we walked down the cliff, it was apparent that the season had officially begun. There were climbers everywhere, on practically every route. I suggested we do Turdland, a climb that gets three stars from Dick Williams but which no one ever seems to do. I think the main reason it is not popular is that Williams lists the 5.10d direct variation as the main route in his most recent guidebook, even though the original route is just one step to the right from the variation and goes at a more approachable 5.9.

I'd heard it was a good 5.9, and a contrived 5.10d if you choose to do the final crux move the hard way. I'd also heard it was a little necky, even though it has three protection bolts (a rarity in the Gunks).

We walked up to the route and I could spot some of the bolts as well as the little roofs and corners described by Dick in the guidebook. I could not tell exactly where I was going but it seemed clear enough. So I headed on up.

It went well, although again I felt like I was really slow. I got stuck just after the first bolt, mystified about how to step up for quite some time until I realized I was too far to the left.

The bolts caused me some concern. I am not an expert in evaluating bolts but all three bolts on this route appear to be really old and rusty, and on some of them the very rusty (and perhaps homemade?) hangers spin. After the first bolt there is a hardish move and then delicate, thin climbing heads up and left to a pin at a rooflet. There is sparse pro in between. The climbing here is not 5.9 but it isn't that much easier. I got a red Camalot in a funky pocket, which gave me some comfort, but if I hadn't managed this placement I would have felt quite run out. Even with the pro I had, this was heads-up climbing above gear during which I did not consider falling to be a viable option-- actually almost the whole pitch felt this way.

But the climbing is very nice. The rock is of high quality, similar to the nearby Absurdland (5.8), and there are a lot of thoughtful moves on the pitch. By the time I got to the upper rooflet beneath the final bolt I was feeling both mentally and physically fried. I checked out the crimps for the 5.10d finish but I could see the better holds literally just an arm's reach to the right and so I chose to finish the pitch the 5.9 way.

I would climb Turdland again if I could get some assurance about the bolts.... And maybe even if I couldn't. The climbing on it is really good. Gail liked it a lot as the second. It is hard to find a route that is new to her! It is not a good climb for the new 5.9 leader. Even though the climbing style is totally different than on Try Again, I think doing the climb was similarly helpful for me in terms of getting my head together for the season. It felt good to go above the gear and work it out, on-sighting challenging moves in a careful, precise way.


(Photo: Gail leading V-3 (5.7).)

After we were finished with Turdland I was ready to dial it back. We ended our day more casually. Gail cruised up V-3 (5.7 and always a pleasure). Then we headed back to the Stairmaster trail and I led Strictly From Nowhere (5.7), which I've done a million times. It is mostly an easy romp up to a fun, steep roofy corner. You have to climb up into the steep corner, place gear, and then escape right. Very exciting for the grade and a very good time.

We ended the day with another new climb for me. I led the first pitch of Revenge of the Relics, just left of Strictly From Nowhere. This pitch is 5.9, with a reachy two-move crux over a bulge not far off the ground. There is bomber gear for the crux, so it's a good little lead, even though the gear gets a bit more sparse for the easier, unremarkable climbing up to the Oscar's Variation tree at the end of the pitch. It is worth doing once.

Next week I head to Yosemite. I am determined to lead some good hard climbs out there, and not to follow my buddy Adrian up everything that is challenging. I know he'll always be able to bail me out if I need him to (crack climbing on granite is his specialty), but I hope not to be forced to push the panic button. I think I've done everything I can to climb as much as possible this season in preparation, given our lousy recent weather.

I will let you know how it goes!

(Photo: Yosemite Valley as seen from the Tunnel View overlook, with El Capitan in the left foreground, Bridalveil Falls on the right, and Half Dome just peeking out from the clouds in the rear center.)

Vertical cracks and blank slabs. Polished granite. Old-school grades. Huge walls.

Ah, the many attractions of climbing in Yosemite.

I've dreamed of going there for years. This year I finally got my chance. Last week was Spring Break for the kids. We planned a trip to Berkeley, CA, to visit my wife's sister, to be followed by three days of hiking in Yosemite. Then my wife and kids were to go back to Berkeley and my buddy Adrian was to meet me for FOUR DAYS of climbing. Adrian had been to Yosemite many times and could easily usher me through many classic climbs.

A whole week in Yosemite. My dream come true.

I'd say it went reasonably well. I loved the park, and I had a great time hiking around with my family. The weather was fabulous for most of our stay. Adrian and I were able to climb on three of our planned four days, getting on good routes at three different locations.

I was a little disappointed in my climbing, however. Last year in Squamish I felt instantly comfortable on the grippy, textured granite. But this year in Yosemite I found the granite to be so polished, the routes sustained and intimidating. I was not as comfortable this time around and it showed.

Still I got a great introduction to Yosemite climbing and I'd go back in a heartbeat.

Before the trip, I tried to prepare by working on my crack climbing technique in the gym and by going outside to lead as much as possible. I made it to the Cliffs at LIC-- the new gym in town-- a couple of times to work on their crack climbs.


(Photo: My buddy Deepak working the jams at the Cliffs at LIC.)

Meanwhile I felt like my head was getting into decent shape outside. On my last day in the Gunks before my trip, I went at a hard 5.10 (Try Again), and though I didn't send it clean, I felt good going for it. And I led on-sight a somewhat sketchy 5.9 called Turdland, and felt fine doing it. Not bad for so early in the season. I hoped I could keep it together to try some similarly hard leads in Yosemite.

We flew out to California on Saturday, April 12. We had a nice few days in Berkeley with family before we drove out to Yosemite on Wednesday. The forecast for our time in Yosemite couldn't have been better, with sunny skies and highs in the upper sixties predicted for our whole visit.

On our first afternoon in the park we checked out the Mariposa Grove, home of the giant sequoia trees. I was itching to go straight to Yosemite Valley but seeing as it was an hour away from our hotel we decided it could wait until the next morning.


(Photo: Giant sequoias in the Mariposa Grove.)

We enjoyed the huge sequoia trees, but I thought the experience in the Grove was a little bit of a letdown. We hiked all the way out to the Wawona Point Vista (about six miles round trip), stopping at many of the specially marked landmark trees along the way. Even though this was a weekday in early season, there were lots and lots of people around, and signs of overuse were everywhere. The trails and the signs seemed aged and beaten. The most impressive trees were surrounded by ugly fencing to prevent their destruction by the masses. The stone walls at the Wawona Point Vista were crumbling and the metal railings were twisted and fallen. The view out to Wawona Dome was nice enough, but not exactly breathtaking.


(Photo: View of Wawona Dome from the Wawona Point Vista.)

I was a little worried. I wanted so much to love Yosemite. I also wanted my wife Robin to love it, so she'd be interested in coming back. Robin knew little of what to expect here. I'd tried to prepare her for the crowds, but I had assured her that the spectacular surroundings would compensate for all the people. We were used to hiking in the Adirondacks in New York, where the mountains might not be so high but at least you could depend on finding solitude and unspoiled nature.

Were we doomed to three days of fighting through throngs of people only to find compromised, decaying viewpoints?

Well, I needn't have worried. The next morning we drove up the Wawona road to Yosemite Valley and as we rounded a corner both El Capitan and Half Dome came suddenly into view. We were both instantly blown away. I would remain so for the full remainder of my week in Yosemite. I spent days just walking around with my mouth open, gaping at the incredible scenery all around us.


(Photo: Good morning, El Cap!)

Once we arrived in the Valley we chose to do the popular Mist Trail hike up to the top of Vernal Falls and then (so long as our kids were not in full revolt) we planned to continue up the Muir Trail to the top of Nevada Falls. This is one of the most popular hikes in Yosemite and it did not disappoint us. It requires in total about 7 miles of rugged hiking. The waterfalls were in peak early season form. We got a good soaking on the Mist Trail as we passed Vernal Falls.


(Photo: Vernal Falls, seen from low on the Mist Trail. If you click on the photo to enlarge it you can make out some tiny people on the trail, starting to get wet.)

Everywhere we looked we saw enormous granite walls. I knew the names of some of the formations, and was familiar with some of the classic routes on some of the walls, but the sheer amount of stone all around was overwhelming. It was impossible to make sense of it all.

Vernal Falls is quite beautiful and the overlook at the top is a great spot for lunch. As we got higher up and approached Nevada Falls I felt like the hike got even better. Nevada Falls is just as impressive as Vernal Falls and there were fewer people crowding the trail. The landscape began to resemble the pictures I've seen of the Sierra high country, with alpine plant life and clean white domes of rock.


(Photo: Looking down the cascading Nevada Falls from the top.)

Though the kids grumbled a bit they were generally troopers and got through the hike without too much foot-dragging.

For our third day of hiking we chose another ambitious undertaking, the Yosemite Falls Trail. This trail is slightly longer than the combined Mist/Muir Trail and it gains significantly more altitude. But we ultimately felt like it wasn't that much more difficult overall. The early part of the trail is the steepest, and once you are over that there is a flatter middle portion of the trail, which provides a good rest before you tackle the long climb to the top of upper Yosemite Falls. The kids made it up and down just fine, buoyed by the knowledge that this was to be their last big hike of the trip.


(Photo: Yosemite Falls, seen from the ground before the hike. The falls are 2600 feet high and you can only take in both the upper and lower portions from a distance. There is no view of the whole falls from the trail.)

Along the way I was just amazed at the views of Lost Arrow Spire, a detached pinnacle to the right of the falls. There are full-length climbs up the huge wall next to the spire, and I have seen photos of climbers doing a tyrolean traverse (i.e. dangling from a fixed line) back to the main cliff after climbing the 5.12 route to the tiny summit of the exposed spire. But the photos can't prepare you for the real thing. Once I could see it in real life, the notion of climbing on such a huge wall, so high off the ground, with the raging falls nearby, gave me the chills.


(Photo: Upper Yosemite Falls, with the detached pinnacle of Lost Arrow Spire visible to the right.)

From the trail we also got great views of Half Dome and some of the higher peaks in the southern part of the park. Later (with Adrian's help) I found out what peaks we were seeing. Maybe some day after the kids get a little older we'll get a wilderness permit and hike all the way out to these mountains. Yosemite Valley is such a small part of the park. As soon as you gain a little altitude you can see how much more the park has to offer.

After we got back down I suggested we do Outsider (5.7), a climb Gail has mentioned to me on a few occasions. It ascends the right edge of a huge boulder which also houses a couple of hard 5.11's, Void Where Prohibited and Avoid Where Inhibited. I thought maybe if we had any energy left after Outsider we could top rope one of those.

(Photo: Follow the rope and you'll see me up there leading the last bits of Outsider (5.7).)

I really liked Outsider. It has good climbing up a crack and at the top of the crack you step out onto a slab on the main face of the boulder. If you move up and left you can go to the little belay tree above the Voids but if you move up and right the best part of the pitch is yet to come, up the exposed right edge of the boulder. It is easier climbing than below but very airy and exposed until you emerge on top of the boulder. Up on top the atmosphere is pretty neat. The top of the boulder forms a shelf and there's a big roof over your head. It's like a secluded party space up on the cliff.


(Photo: Up on top of the Voids boulder.)

Once Maryana came up we got ready to rap. There is a fixed steel cable anchor around a coffee table block atop the Voids boulder. The block isn't huge but I figured it was okay.

I got all set up with my rappel and back-up prussik and I stepped down off the boulder, weighting the rig.

Before I moved very far Maryana said "Stop. Come back. Come back. I don't like it."

I looked up, shocked. "What is it?" I asked.

She looked at the block to which we were both attached. "It moved," she said.

Oh crap.

I grabbed the rocks in front of me and hustled back up. Maryana showed me she could shake the block without too much effort. I don't know that it was about to fly off, but it seemed stupid to test it any further. We weren't going to use it. (And neither should you!) I was a little shaken up. I had just been hanging off this thing. I should have checked it more thoroughly.

Maryana had a good idea. She would climb down to the little Voids belay tree, which was maybe 20 to 30 feet below us. We built a gear anchor in a crack and I belayed her down. She was on top rope but she placed a few pieces along the way so that when I followed I wouldn't face too big a fall if I blew it somehow. The downclimb was easy and we both made it to the tree without incident. Then we rapped off of the tree. This tree seemed solidly attached to the cliff but it isn't really all that comforting. It is smaller than I'd prefer.

I was glad to get down. We didn't bother with the Void climbs; we just got out of there.

Next time, after finishing Outsider, I'd probably just keep climbing. There is another pitch that goes up the main cliff behind the top of the Voids boulder. It is the third pitch of Inside Out and it goes at 5.6 up to a ledge with another rap tree. It looks like a nice pitch. You could rap down to the little Voids tree from the top of this pitch or move up and right to the Main Line tree, or just walk off.

Anyway, it all worked out okay. It didn't put too much of a damper on our casual Sunday. But it was enough for us. We were done.

On the way out Maryana showed me her gear beta for Trans Con. I hope next time I'm up there I'll feel ready to get back on the ten train and go for it!

(Photo: Adrian leading Ants Line (5.9).)

Here in the USA, May 17-18 was just another weekend. But in Canada it was part of a three-day holiday. Good weather plus the extra day off brought a Canadian invasion to the Gunks unlike any I'd ever seen before.

It also brought back to the area a specific Canadian: my longtime partner Adrian, who has been away from the Gunks for two years. He recently moved back east, from Vancouver to Montreal, and though the move is temporary, for the next year or so we should be able to get together to climb frequently, just like old times.

Adrian was in the Gunks for the whole weekend but I was only able to meet up with him on Sunday. I hooked him up with my frequent partner Gail for some climbing on the other days without me. I was jealous of them both but it was nice finally to be able to introduce two of my favorite people to each other. 

I wasn't sure what I could handle on my day with Adrian. Ever since my trip to California I hadn't felt quite right. I'd ended my trip to Yosemite feeling exhausted, and then I got sick with a cold that lingered on and on. After I seemingly got better I went out climbing with Maryana but felt a bit weak. I wanted to go right back to working on some tens but with Maryana I found the eights challenging enough.

On Sunday the 18th, Adrian and I were thinking about going to the Nears, but by 9:30 in the morning the West Trapps lot was already completely full. To my shock, the Stairmaster lot was also nearly full. We had to park all the way back at the Visitor Center. Did I mention that this was at 9:30 a.m.?

We knew the Trapps would be a zoo but we didn't feel like walking the extra distance back to the Nears so we decided to just live with whatever climbs we could find in the Trapps.

As we walked down the cliff we looked for any reasonable warm-up climb that was open. We got all the way down to the Bonnie's Roof area before we spotted something suitable. Sleepwalk (5.7) was open, so we jumped on that. I've done it several times. It remains a pleasant pitch, a little bit steep right at the start, as you move diagonally up some flakes and turn the corner to your left. After you move around the corner the climb features clean low-angled face climbing with several interesting moves, all the way to the chain anchor.



(Photo: Adrian following the steep and sometimes creaky flakes at the start of Sleepwalk (5.7).)

We finished Sleepwalk with great timing. Ants' Line, a three-star classic 5.9, had just become free and it was right next door, so we did it. Adrian led up it with efficiency and when my turn came to follow, I was so relieved. I felt like my normal self and cruised up to the anchor. Such a nice pitch and the vertical nature of the crack (unusual for the Gunks) is right up the alley of a western climber like Adrian.



(Photo: Following Ants' Line.)

Looking around after we finished Ants' Line, we found climbers everywhere, most of them speaking French. Some friends of mine from Brooklyn Boulders were just to the right of us, having a mini-epic on Bonnie's Roof Direct (5.9). The leader had taken it all the way to the top of the cliff in one pitch and his double ropes had become caught in the Direct crack. He could move one of the ropes but it was a struggle. They were obviously going to be there a while. I once had a similar problem there, several years ago, on rappel. I started my rap from the Bonnie's tree and after I stepped out over the edge I found that the end of one of my ropes was caught in the crack. I had a devil of a time getting it out while dangling there in the air! (It is a free hanging two-rope rap, all air until you reach the ground.) At the time I dismissed it as a freak occurrence but after seeing another party having trouble with the rope-eating crack I'll be more careful.

Once I felt satisfied they didn't need our help we moved on.

We soon found that Obstacle Delusion (5.9), just a few climbs to the left, was available, so I decided to do that one. It is a great climb so why not? I had to beat back a little anxiety before getting started. I had led this before, just last year, but it is a hard 5.9. It would be a real test of how strong I was feeling.



(Photo: Leading the upper bits of Obstacle Delusion (5.9).)

It turned out to be a test of my memory more than anything else. It can be hard to find the correct path on Obstacle Delusion. The business begins with a tough roof problem, which becomes easier when you know where the good hold is. And then the route negotiates around a couple of bulges, through several small overhangs, to the top.



(Photo: Adrian near the top of Obstacle Delusion (5.9).)

I thought I knew exactly where to reach over the initial roof from my prior experience, but I was mistaken. I struggled when I reached up and found the hold over the roof to be not nearly as positive as I thought it would be. After a few errant reaches and a brief hang (grrrrrrrrrr) I found the sweet spot again, as if for the first time. And then as I got higher on the climb I found myself puzzling over where to go-- to the left around this bulge, or to the right? There was chalk everywhere, in all directions. I was pleased to get through the upper challenges without any problems. Even though I messed up the first roof "obstacle" I felt physically strong and happy with how I handled most of the climb.

We next continued wandering back up the cliff towards the parking lot and found available another oldfavorite of mine, The Last Will Be First (5.6). It has numerous good moves between horizontals, a rooflet problem and a nice bulge at the finish. Adrian had never done it so I sent him on up. 



(Photo: Adrian leading The last Will Be First (5.6), camouflaged by the bright green young leaves.)

After the great first pitch we abandoned the thought of doing the second, as it was soaking wet. Looking to the right, I entertained the hope that maybe we could sneak onto the crux pitch of Modern Times (5.8+), but there were several parties stacked up waiting. We reluctantly rapped down and kept on walking.

We lucked out again with another three-star classic. We arrived at the base of CCK to find a party just packing up to leave. I was itching to do CCK Direct (5.9) again. It was one of my favorite 5.9's and I had only done it once, two years ago.



(Photo: The 5.5 first pitch of CCK.)

Adrian led the 5.5 first pitch. It was a little bit wet at the bottom but the best part, as you approach the GT Ledge, was dry. This last portion of the first pitch has some good moves on it. It pales in comparison with what comes above and I would certainly never seek out this pitch as a destination in its own right but it isn't bad.

Oh but the crux pitch. So great.

What can I say about CCK Direct that I haven't said before? It remains one of my absolute favorite pitches. My second time leading it felt a lot like the first, but this time I tried to manage the gear a little better to avoid the horrible drag I created the first time around.


(Photo: Eyeing the opening 5.8 PG/R bits of CCK Direct (5.9).)

The juggy, overhanging climbing off the ledge is good. Then the climbing up the white CCK billboard is fantastic. And finally the move out, down and left, to the finishing notch/roof problem is insanely exposed and thrilling.


(Photo: Working through the overhangs on CCK Direct (5.9).)

Adrian had never been on CCK Direct before and he was pretty impressed with the finishing roof. He wasn't used to these Gunks overhangs any more, but he got through it just fine (just as he did on Obstacle Delusion). He remarked that he wasn't sure how he would have felt leading CCK Direct, but I'm sure he would have calmly dealt with it as he always does.

(Photo: Approaching the final roof problem/notch on CCK Direct (5.9).)

Having done what might be my choice for top pitch in the Gunks, we decided to walk all the way back to the Uberfall to see if we could do Adrian's favorite: Horseman (5.5). I'm very fond of this one too. It gives the fledgling leader an introduction to so many Gunks skills: thin face climbing, corners, traverses, roof escapes, and finally steep climbing on jugs.


(Photo: Adrian leading Horseman (5.5).)

It was a fitting ending to a beautiful day in the Gunks. Although it was as crowded as I've ever seen it at the cliff, we never waited for anything and got on three different three-star routes and two two-stars. Not too shabby.

More importantly, from my perspective, I felt like I was back to my normal strength. The day gave me hope that in the coming weeks I could return to trying some new, harder objectives.

(Photo: Gail entering the crux of Outer Space (5.8).)

My wife and I planned for a nice Memorial Day weekend in the New Paltz area with the kids. Our friends Gail and Mitch were kind enough to host us at their place in Gardiner. I expected to climb a bit with Gail, maybe just during the mornings, while the kids hung out at the pool.

One slight problem: it turned out that this year the community pool in New Paltz wasn't open for Memorial Day weekend.

Another problem: the forecast called for a lot of rain.

Oops. We'd have to find something else to do.

Saturday turned into a nice family day. We took the kids to the Walkway Over the Hudson and then went into town for ice cream. The expected rain held off until the late afternoon.

On Sunday, Gail and I got out for a full day in the Nears. There was no rain at all. It was a beautiful day but the iffy forecast kept the hordes away. We knocked off several great climbs in the near Nears, one right after the other. Many of these we have discussed in this space before.

Alphonse (5.8) in one pitch is always a great time, casual and fun. I have led this several times and I realize that I make the same choices every time. I always do the low traverse. Next time, for some variety, I think I need to do the high traverse and maybe try the 5.10 finish. There was a little black snake hanging out in the crack at the back of the dihedral about halfway up, which provided some excitement. Gail misunderstood me when I told her where it was, so as the follower she got to be just as surprised as I was on the lead!

We did Yellow Ridge (5.7) in two pitches, with Gail taking the crux first pitch and part of the second in one lead. She stopped (unintentionally) at a good ledge that was maybe thirty feet short of the usual second belay, and I took it to the top from there. We didn't plan to do it this way but it worked out very well. We basically split the climb exactly in half.

(Photo: Gail through the opening traverse around a roof on Yellow Ridge (5.7).)

As the second I got to try two different starts to Yellow Ridge: the usual right-hand start, which traverses under a low roof to an off-width crack, and also the direct start, which goes up a nose of rock straight from the ground to the off-width. Gail led up the right-hand start (which has good gear), and after she put me on belay I climbed up and cleaned the pieces under the roof and had her lower me so I could try going direct up the nose. On the direct there is basically one good move with no pro before you reach the stance beneath the off-width. It was nice, I guess, but I doubt I'll ever bother leading this version since the right-hand start is also nice and it has good protection.


(Photo: Chillin' at our unconventional belay ledge on Yellow Ridge (5.7).)

As I led the upper pitch, doing the beautiful, exposed, thin moves up the edge of the yellow face past the pins, and then moving into the great juggy overhangs at the finish, I thought to myself that it just doesn't get any better than this. So much fun. When our zombie overlords discover how much fun rock climbing can be, they will surely make it illegal. So you'd best get out there and enjoy it while you can.

After we finished with Yellow Ridge I wanted to do something more ambitious. So we got set up beneath Criss Cross Direct (5.10a). This is an early 5.10 lead for many people because the crux comes right off the deck and it is very well protected. The climbing involves a steep vertical layback crack in a slimy corner. I've been meaning to try it for a long time, but I confess that I've never done it because the crack looks difficult and very unappealing to me. Every time I walk up to it I think about how greasy it looks, and I end up moving on to something else.

On Sunday I thought I was determined to finally give it a whirl. I reached up and placed a piece, then explored stepping up into the crack, several times. But I wasn't feeling it. I never really committed. Eventually I decided I still wasn't into Criss Cross Direct and we walked away.

We moved on to the very start of the Nears. I was interested in Outer Space (5.8), which I never see anyone doing. This climb traverses a long distance to the left under the huge roofs at the beginning of the cliff.

I really liked Outer Space. It is very interesting and it has some great climbing on it. But it is a somewhat serious lead, despite its PG rating.

The initial move over a bulge is not easy. It has poor hands and tiny footholds and if you blow this move there is no way to stop yourself from going splat on the slab just below. Then after you move up again to clip an angle piton, the crux moves go diagonally up and left using a series of small miracle crimps. The climbing here is very very good but there is no gear and with each move the potential pendulum fall gets bigger and bigger.


(Photo: Gail almost finished with the crux sequence on Outer Space (5.8).)

By the time I hit the jug after the crimps I was pretty far from that angle piton. I really wanted to get a piece in so I hung out to place a nut in a little vertical seam behind the jug. I couldn't get anything great, though, and the nut I placed later popped out. It might have been worthless. I probably shouldn't have bothered but it was still another two moves up to a ceiling where good protection would become available and I was getting a little freaked out.


(Photo: Having moved up into the notch, Gail is making the final traverse to the anchor on Outer Space (5.8).)

The rest of the climb is very well protected, and it has good climbing, traversing under the big ceilings and moving up into a notch along the way. Outer Space is full of good moves, but keep a cool head! It is mentally challenging.

We rapped from the pitch one anchor, electing to skip the second 5.4 pitch to the top.

As Gail followed my lead of Outer Space I kept looking over at Topeka (5.10a), another climb at the beginning of the cliff that no one seems to do. It ascends a big corner just to the right of the popular 5.12 Kansas City and traverses under a ceiling to a nose. It appears to involve several very thin moves out under the roof. It looked hard to me. I was thinking about trying it but after Outer Space I had had enough traversing under roofs for the moment so we decided to look for something else to do.

Gail knew I had been looking to lead the crux pitches of Grand Central (5.9) so she suggested we do that. She would lead the short 5.6 pitch one, and then I'd take it the rest of the way to the top.

(Photo: Mitch starting up City Streets (5.10b).)

Memorial Day Monday was a hot one this year. We awoke to find sunny skies and temperatures expected to reach the mid-eighties.

If only the New Paltz pool were open. Then my wife and kids would have gone there and I'd have been able to climb all day.

But since it wasn't open we planned to drive back to NYC in the early afternoon and Gail and I had just a few hours in which to climb.

As Gail and I walked into the Trapps I could already feel it getting hot. The conditions weren't ideal but I was still determined to try a new 5.10.

First we needed a warm-up. Some friends of Gail's had done Thin Slabs Direct (5.7+) the day before and their discussion of the wild traversing finish, past three old pins, put the climb back in my mind. I suggested we start there. I had led the Direct finish twice before but I'd never led the 5.7 start to Thin Slabs at the bottom of the cliff. I remembered that the one time I followed it I had thought it was tough to get off the ground and that several moves seemed hard to me for 5.7.

Leading the route on Monday did not change my opinion. I easily made the first move up but for several moves in a row I felt the climbing was steep and thin, with gear available everywhere but fiddly to place in the often flaring diagonal crack. It didn't ease off for about twenty feet. Along the way, as I tried to stay calm and shake off the Elvis leg, I decided that this supposed 5.7 start is very much like a slightly longer version of the challenging start of the first pitch of Son of Easy O, which is a hard 5.8. Gail disagrees with me, but I just don't see this right-hand start of Thin Slabs as a 5.7. Sorry.

Some warm up!

At any rate it is good climbing, and I continued all the way to the GT Ledge in one pitch. After the tough beginning the rest of the climbing to the GT Ledge is easy and a little bit dirty at times.

Once I got to the ledge I was disappointed to see that the start of the Thin Slabs Direct pitch was wet. It was yucky just at the opening moves, and not for any of the exciting traverse. We could have gotten through the seepy bits if we were really determined to do Thin Slabs Direct. But I'd done it before so it didn't seem worth it.

We moved to the right to check out the climbs at the left end of the Arrow wall. I'd been interested for years in trying the upper pitches of two different obscure climbs, Deep Lichen and Steep Hikin', but I'd never gotten around to doing either one. These pitches go at 5.8 and 5.6, respectively, and they sit on a wall book ended by the large, dirty Snake corner on the left and the shallower Red Pillar corner on the right. Dick Williams recommends them in his guidebook as nice pitches to throw in after Three Doves (5.8+) or Annie Oh! (5.8).

When we arrived at this wall on Monday, we saw only one clean path up the middle of the wall. We couldn't spot another route between this one strip of clear rock and Red Pillar. We didn't have the book with us and we had no way to tell whether the path we were looking at was the 5.6 or the 5.8. It looked like decent climbing. I saw a few horizontals that looked like they would take gear. I also thought I could spot the crux, a blank headwall about two thirds of the way up, right above a little pod.

It looked like fun climbing on good white rock. We decided to do it.

Later on I looked at the book and figured out that this was Deep Lichen, the 5.8 pitch.

Dick Williams calls it PG but it is actually quite run out. After the initial moves and a few placements, there is a somewhat cruxy thin move up on some small crimps to a better hand rail. This move isn't ridiculously far from the gear but you are a ways above your last piece. You don't want to fall here. Then the climbing continues without any placements for several more moves. This portion of the pitch may be easier than 5.8 (which is probably why Dick gave the route a PG rating) but it isn't much easier. It is still thoughtful climbing and by the time you finally get pro at a bomber horizontal you are likely far enough out that a fall would take you all the way back to the GT Ledge. I felt like I was really out there.

When I arrived intact at the bomber horizontal I threw in two pieces. The gear improved thereafter. The crux did indeed come a bit higher, at the blank headwall above the pod, and I was able to get a good nut right at the top of the pod so I felt well protected for the interesting, delicate and reachy crux sequence.

I liked the climbing on Deep Lichen, though I don't know that I would do it again, now that I know how run out it is. I later checked the Swain guide and found that he describes the pitch as 5.8+ R. I felt satisfied with how I handled the pitch, and I think I have to admit I enjoy the head space that I get into on leads like this (Turdland is another example), where the climbing is less than vertical and you can carefully analyze each move without fear of pumping out. When falling is not an option, the climb becomes a series of puzzles and each critical move, each individual hand and toe placement, gets serious consideration and focus.

I can't say why I felt so shaky on Thin Slabs, where the pro was great, yet so calm on the supposedly harder and definitely far more dangerous Deep Lichen.

Maybe we rise to the occasion when it really counts.

From the top of Deep Lichen we rapped down the Arrow bolts and found that we were already running out of time. Gail knew I wanted to try a 5.10 and she suggested the nearby City Streets (5.10b). Several weeks ago, while we were doing V-3, right next door, we'd both become intrigued when we watched a climber working hard on this route, trying some pretty weird hand matching and swinging to get through the roof problem. He took a number of short falls on the crux piton, and this guy was substantially bigger than me, so I felt pretty assured about the pin's integrity.

Dick Williams gives City Streets no stars and dismisses it as a one-move wonder. But the fact that it has just one hard move makes it a good entry-level ten and the pin right below the roof makes the climb feel like a very approachable lead.


(Photo: Gail getting set to try the roof on City Streets (5.10b).)

My only concern about the climb was that, in my experience, Gunks climbs that have just one crux move usually have one hell of a crux move. I worried that I wouldn't be able to figure out the sequence and that I'd fail.

But you'll never know unless you try, right?

So I racked up and tried it.

It went well! The initial moves up a shallow corner are moderate and interesting. Then you reach a little shelf beneath the overhang. I could see an obvious, chalky horn up to the right of the fixed pin. But I couldn't tell where I was going over the big roof. I wasted some time going up and down and trying to get a piece into the irregular space behind the good horn. But it wasn't working out and eventually I just stepped up to the horn and clipped the pin, calling it good. I probably should have tried harder to back up the pin.


(Photo: Going for it on City Streets.)

And then I started to work at the crux move. A few missions up and down, testing various potential holds, told me that all of the intermediate holds were crap. I could see the good hold, but it was very far to the left. I thought I might be able to reach it if I set my feet just right.

One good thing about this route is that you can get fully into the crux and if it isn't working out you can climb down out of it and reset. I did this several times, testing various ways to reach over to the left. And when I got my feet up just right and grabbed the jug it was a great feeling.


(Photo: Relieved to have on-sighted City Streets (5.10b)!)

After you get over the roof you still have to make a few moves up a corner and then escape right to the anchor tree. The moves are easy and there is good gear at the top of the corner but be careful because a fall as you move up the corner would not be good. I stuck a nut in a v-slot that was about knee level after I was standing above the roof but I thought this nut was not likely to stay put if it were actually tested.

City Streets may not be the easiest 5.10. The one move is hard. But it might well be the easiest 5.10 to lead. The crux is short, the gear is good, and you can climb up and down to your heart's content.

That was it for me. Gail's husband Mitch came out and met us right as I was finishing the crux of City Streets. After Gail and Mitch had a go at the route, I took off and they kept climbing. It was a short day for me but pretty productive, with two new routes and one 5.10 tick off of my list.

(Photo: Doing the fun traverse above a roof on Lost and Found (5.6).)

Another sunny Sunday in May, sure to be a crowded disaster in the Trapps. But I had a plan.

I've been repeating myself a lot lately. I wanted to try some different routes. I proposed to Adrian that we could get ourselves up to the GT Ledge in the area between CCK and High Exposure, where there were several quality climbs I'd never tried. I was thinking in particular of climbs like Diana (5.8), Unholy Wick (5.8), Jim's Gem (5.8 and new for me by the higher traverse), Exit Stage Left (5.9), and Psychedelic (5.9+). We could kill most of our day on these climbs, most of which no one seems to do.

At the last minute Gail decided to join us for a few hours before her husband Mitch arrived at the cliff, but this did not alter our plan. She could rap off whenever she needed to go.

I got to the parking lot in high spirits, ready to hit it hard. Gail and Adrian, on the other hand, seemed a little droopy. They had both been climbing for the full day on Saturday and they were feeling tired. They were happy to follow my lead, but it looked like I was going to be calling most of the shots.

We headed on down to the area just left of High E and looked for a warm-up climb to take us to the GT Ledge. No one was on Lost and Found (5.6) and I had never done it so I decided to embrace new routes and lead it. Gail warned me that she thought the bottom bits were run out but I wasn't worried. The guidebook calls it PG and I figured a little bit of run out climbing in 5.6 territory would be no big deal.

The opening moves go up and right over a little bulge to the right edge of a roof. The climb traverses back left over the lip of the roof then heads straight up from there to the GT Ledge.

I placed a piece quickly and then started to move through the bulge. As Gail had predicted, I found a lack of options for my second gear placement. I ended up getting an Alien I wasn't thrilled about in a shallow pocket. But I figured after a move or two I'd be over the bulgy bit and it would be smooth sailing. I had each hand on a good crimper as I moved to the right, so I thought everything was fine. Suddenly my right handhold snapped right off. The hold went flying (hitting no one, luckily) but I didn't. Somehow I managed to stay on the rock. It could have been a little bit ugly if I'd fallen and the iffy Alien had popped. I would have decked.

I tried to just laugh it off.

Gail said, "I can't believe you didn't fall!"

"Well, the reason I didn't is that I'm really kind of awesome," I blustered. "I don't like to talk about it, but it's true..."

Meanwhile, I tried to stop shaking so I could get back to leading the pitch.

It went fine from there. After the slightly sketchy early bit, the traverse left over the lip of the roof is fun and well-protected. Then the climbing from that point to the GT Ledge is easy and kind of undistinguished and dirty.

I wouldn't do Lost and Found again. It isn't that nice. The Last Will Be First (5.6) is just to the right and it is so much better.

When Gail and Adrian joined me on the GT Ledge we took a look at Unholy Wick, which was right in front of us. This climb goes straight up a 5.6 face to a little roof. There is no gear on this face and Dick Williams suggests that you can avoid the runout to the left by following Ken's Blind Hole (5.6) to the little roof. I haven't done Ken's Blind Hole but it goes pretty far to the left and if you go just a step or two to the right instead as you start Unholy Wick off the ledge you can get some gear in the left-facing corner over there. After just a few moves you get to the ceiling where there is ample gear.


(Photo: Climbing up to the initial roof on Unholy Wick (5.8).)

I enjoyed climbing up to the small roof, and the rest of Unholy Wick as well. The climb isn't a great classic and it is kind of broken up into sections but there are a bunch of good moves on it. The guidebook advises you to do it in two pitches from the GT Ledge to the top but I took it all the way in one pitch and it worked out fine. The little rooflet is the first challenge, and then you have to get in and out of a small alcove, moving left along a horizontal and then making steep moves up to a large flake and a small tree. (This is where Dick would have you belay.) All of the climbing to this point is allegedly 5.6, but I thought the moves in and out of the alcove were a little harder than that.


(Photo: Gail has almost reached the flake and tree where there is an optional belay on Unholy Wick (5.8). Despite appearances the route isn't choked with lichen-- it traverses behind the lichen-covered flake and climbs the clean corner barely visible at the bottom of the photo.)

Once you reach the flake and tree the regular route moves left to a right-facing corner, where a single 5.8 move gets you to jugs and then the finish. I thought about doing a 5.9 variation to finish called Bow Tie Ceiling, but it looked very dirty/licheny and difficult, so I just did it the 5.8 way.


(Photo: Getting set to rappel from the top of the cliff.)

After we rapped down to the GT Ledge, Gail checked in with her husband Mitch and found out he was on his way, so she left us and Adrian and I continued climbing from the GT Ledge.

We decided to look into the top pitch of Diana (5.8) next. This pitch starts at a distinctive multi-forked tree that is easy to find on the GT ledge. The line Diana follows isn't that obvious from below but it makes sense when you do it. After some face climbing and an easy 5.6 roof, the climb heads up a little right and then left to the right edge of a larger ceiling. You move up diagonally onto the face above the ceiling, which ends up feeling like a roof problem. It is a really good roof problem and I thought it was a little stiff for 5.8. Then the pitch heads up and left again to another crux on sloping holds up into a notch, where you meet CCK for the final couple of moves.


(Photo: Adrian pulling into the final notch on Diana (5.8).)

I really enjoyed Diana. It has two nice cruxes and good protection (though I did not see the piton mentioned in the guidebook). If you are stacked up on the GT Ledge waiting to do CCK I can't think of any reason why you wouldn't do Diana instead. The top pitch is very good.

Adrian and I rapped back down to the GT Ledge and now I was ready for a challenge. My eye was on Psychedelic (5.9+). I was totally psyched to climb into the dirty chimney at the back of the High E buttress. I was ready to fight past a tree to get to the tough roof problem. After that the wild 40-foot 5.6+ traverse would be a fun payoff.

But Adrian had a request:

"Can we do something facey/slabby instead of another roof?"

He was a little tired and a little bored.


(Photo: Unknown climber on Modern Times (5.8+). "I hate you a little bit right now," she said to her belayer.)

I had to admit that all of the climbs I'd planned at this one location above the GT Ledge were of the roofy variety. If we were going to do something different we'd have to look elsewhere. Reluctantly I acquiesced and we descended to the ground to find another climb.

This turned out to be a mistake. It was a nightmare down there.

Everything was occupied. We started out looking for a good climb that wasn't a roof problem-- something like Airy Aria or the first pitch of Carbs and Caffeine-- but when that didn't pan out we just started looking for something, anything that was open. We kept wandering around, always coming up empty. Doubleissima? Forget it. Insuhlation had a group of climbers plus some wailing babies. Another group of adults and children had a top rope on Double Crack and Lito and the Swan! I'd never seen anyone at all on Lito and the Swan before, and I never thought I'd see some pre-teens top-roping it.

We headed back towards CCK and Erect Direction, but no dice.

Finally we arrived beneath Proctoscope and it was open. I needed to get the redpoint on Proctoscope so I volunteered to lead it.


(Photo: In the middle of the crux face on Proctoscope (5.9+).)

It went really well. I think this first pitch could become a climb I come back to again and again. I like the easy off-width that starts it off and the crux thin face is beautiful. The fixed nut at the crux I mentioned last year in my first post on Proctoscope is long gone but I think I was actually hindered by that nut the first time I led the pitch. This time I placed the good cam a few feet below and just climbed right through the crux sequence. My footwork was solid and I felt like I used the handholds just right. It was a nice feeling.


(Photo: Adrian on Proctoscope (5.9+).)

Adrian really liked it too. It was more the sort of thing he was hungry for, something technical and not so thuggish.

By now it was getting late and Adrian had a long drive back to Montreal ahead of him. We could see that the pleasant, casual first pitch of Arrow was open so Adrian suggested he could lead that one and then I could lead something from the ledge to the top of the cliff. I hoped that pitch two of Limelight would be open and it was.


(Photo: Adrian climbing the beautiful flake feature on pitch two of Limelight (5.7).)

If there is a better 5.7 pitch than the second pitch of Limelight I want to know about it! The moves on Limelight are just exquisite and the white sickle-shaped flake that the second pitch ascends is very unusual. It looks as though it will be very difficult to climb but then the holds present themselves, as if by magic. The final traverse is delicate and satisfying.

It was a fitting end to our day. Though we wasted some time searching for open routes we still got on several climbs that were new to me and one that I was familiar with but that I felt proud to send. I plan to make a point of working more of these unpopular climbs into every climbing day. I really enjoy on-sighting and I like the feeling of exploring the more obscure parts of the cliff. And sometimes, as I learned by doing Diana, a less-popular route can become a new favorite.

(Photo: Climber on Drop, Fly or Die (5.11a).)

I knew it would be wet.

It had been a rainy week, with heavy thunderstorms on Friday, continuing into the evening. I almost called the whole thing off.

But it was supposed to be a beautiful day on Saturday in the Adirondacks and I really wanted to go. Maybe in the afternoon Chapel Pond Slab would be dry? Maybe we'd find some dry lines between the streaks of wetness on some south-facing cliffs in the morning?

I missed climbing in the Adirondacks. I wanted to work on my crack and slab skills. I had dreams, my friends. Dreams bigger than any thunderstorm.

And the Dacks was very convenient for my partner Adrian, who was driving down from Montreal. He'd made the five hour trip from Montreal to the Gunks twice recently. It was only fair to give him a break this time around. I could make the long drive from NYC up to the Keene Valley area.

Unfortunately, I only had Saturday available. My daughter and I both had a piano recital on Sunday so I had to be back. This meant nine hours of driving just on Saturday, and my wife Robin wasn't exactly thrilled about it. It seemed a little bit insane to her. (Just between you and me, I think she worries too much.)

"If it's going to be wet, why don't you just go to the Gunks?" she said. "The rock there dries really fast, that's what you always say."

She was right, but she didn't understand. I needed some Dacks action.

I'll cut to the chase: it turned out to be a shitty day for us on Saturday. We should have gone to the Gunks. The irony was that the weather in the Keene Valley area was absolutely gorgeous. But there had been far too much rain earlier during the week.

I got up at 5:00 a.m. and drove out of Brooklyn. The roads were wet but the sky was clear the whole way up.

As I drove in to the Chapel Pond area I was amazed. Not only was the Chapel Pond Slab soaking wet-- which was to be expected-- it was worse than wet. It had a running waterfall right down the middle. Mostly, it seemed, on the route Empress (5.5. X) but also on parts of the Regular Route (5.5), which I had hoped maybe we could do.

In truth, I knew before I drove up that the Slab wouldn't work out. This was no big deal. We could check out some other options. We walked in to the Beer Walls. These cliffs are low and tucked in the woods, so I had no illusions that they'd be much drier than the Chapel Pond Slab. I thought maybe, just maybe, there'd be some dry sections. But no such luck, the entire Upper and Lower walls were absolutely soaked, not just wet but actively running with water in most places.

We walked back out. The Spider's Web looked pretty dry from the road. So we negotiated the talus field all the way up there to find that it wasn't really very dry. It was okay on some parts of the upper portions of the wall but mostly wet on the bottom. All the climbs I'd previously done there were wet, and all the tens I'd hoped to try were also wet.  There was a party there starting one of the 5.11's (Drop, Fly or Die) which was dry except for the very bottom. But I would need good conditions to be brave enough to lead the tens. There was no way I was hopping on a 5.11.

Having struck out three times, we decided to walk over to some of the Lower Washbowl cliffs. These cliffs are not very popular due to the steep, thickly wooded approaches and chossy rock. But you can get there from the Spider's Web without going all the way down to the road, so we decided to try to cross over to a wall called Lost Arrow Face which wasn't too far away. 

After a filthy, slippery bushwhack we found the wall and it actually seemed to have some dry routes. We found two women from Montreal climbing there.

It was, by this time, after noon and we hadn't climbed anything. We'd been trooping around looking for dry rock for more than two hours. It was about time to do some climbing! We did Excalibur (5.8) after the ladies told us it was dry enough. This is kind of dirty but it is an interesting route up the left side of a pillar which forms a corner, with some really tricky climbing in the corner. Both Adrian and I thought it was harder than 5.8. Maybe we did it wrong?



(Photo: Adrian heading into the tricky bit on Excalibur (5.8).)

Next I started to lead the 5.9 on the wall (Virgin Sturgeon), which the guidebook authors highly recommend. But I got kind of spooked because I couldn't see the bolt above on a blank face and the route ends at some corners that can't be seen from the base of the cliff. I kept worrying the corners at the top would be soaking wet. I aborted and headed over to check out Sergeant Pepper (5.8), which goes up another big corner to the left. But when I got beneath the corner I could see it was very dirty/licheny and the roof exit at the top was dripping water down on me. Yuck. No thanks.

So then I moved left again and did Chunga's Revenge (5.6+). The two women had done Chunga's while Adrian and I did Excalibur and both of them had sent down some sizable rocks as they climbed! So I tried to be careful. This route has a really interesting move left across an orange face to a tree and a ledge with an optional belay. The holds are there but it is a committing step over. And then it goes up a corner to a roof.



(That's me heading up to the crux move on Chunga's Revenge (5.6+).)

In retrospect, I realize that most people end this climb at the optional belay. But I did not. The corner above was full of junky rock and loose flakes. I passed up many opportunities for gear in the bad rock. The roof too had some loose crap and when I got over it and reached the top I built a belay in a crack because the belay tree (which had ancient crusty slings on it) did not appear to me to be stable. I could see it totally falling down if it were weighted. The rock it is attached to up there is all chossy and crumbly.

I brought Adrian up and he found a bolted rap station about ten feet to the right of the tree so I came over to join him. But I thought it was really bad, with just one ancient button-head bolt and a piton, connected by stiff old webbing in an American Death Triangle. Someone had added a more recent sling to the bolt. This sling was still identifiable as blue and it wasn't stiff but it was quite faded, clearly at least a few years old.

Adrian thought the bolt was fine but the whole arrangement gave me the chills. We decided to add a tricam to the anchor with one of our prussik cords and left this gear behind. We both rapped off and, thankfully, nobody died.

Then we hiked down the loose, annoying talus field to the road. I was glad to put the Lost Arrow Face behind me. What a pile.


(Photo: The Lost Arrow Face as seen from the road, with one of the Montreal women we met visible (in a white shirt) low in the center of the wall, leading Virgin Sturgeon (5.9).)

I suggested we go next to Jewels and Gem, a small wall with moderate routes one minute from the road. If it was dry, well then we could lead some routes. If not, we could top rope. We went there and almost all the leadable routes (the ones that go up cracks) were wet. We spotted a dry one, In the Rough (5.7+). This ascends an off-width crack in a corner, and then goes through a good roof problem. Adrian led it. We both enjoyed it. Hallelujah! A good, dry route. So nice. 


(Photo: Adrian on In the Rough (5.7+).)

It appeared a couple of the other routes on this wall were really good-- if only they were dry. The two 5.6 routes appeared to be great natural lines up easy cracks, but they were both dripping with runoff. The dry routes all seemed to have no gear. I thought maybe I could lead the 5.9 variant just to the left of In the Rough, so I started it... and then I backed off when it appeared there were no placements for a long stretch above the initial crack. 

We considered top roping some other climbs but I checked the time and it was already 5:30. We decided to leave. I had lost the mojo and I had a long drive ahead. 

I would definitely come back to Jewels and Gem some time when it is dry for some fun moderates. It seems like a nice little wall.

We both walked out pretty disappointed with our day. We did a lot of trudging for three mediocre pitches.

And the worst was yet to come. I'll spare you the details, but some car trouble kept us from leaving for another three hours. 

Once that was resolved and I finally got out of there I drove home in an over-caffeinated haze, wishing I'd listened to my wife and gone to the Gunks. The day was largely a waste of time and money. But you know, sometimes taking a chance really pays off and sometimes it doesn't. You gotta play to win and all that garbage.

And even if the day basically sucked we still got a little taste of some adventure. 

Don't worry, Dacks. I still love you and I'll be back. 

(Photo: Gail on the last pitch of Realm of the Fifth Class Climber (5.9).)

I got up on Monday morning, looked in the mirror, and found bits of lichen in my ears.

This could mean only one thing:

I'd been climbing at Millbrook.

Sunday was one of the longest days of the year. It was expected to be a beautiful day in the Gunks. The main cliffs were sure to be overrun. Why not head back out to Millbrook, where we might find solitude? It had been more than a year since my first trip out there. I was overdue for another taste of this most mysterious and daunting of Gunks cliffs.

Last year Gail and I had picked off the two most obvious plums, Westward Ha! (5.7) and Cruise Control (5.9). These two great climbs are centrally located and relatively easy to find. They sit pretty much directly beneath the spot where the Millbrook Mountain Trail reaches the cliff.

This time around I suggested we venture a bit further afield, towards the southern end of the cliff. I was eager to check out Realm of the Fifth Class Climber (5.9). There were a few other routes nearby that I thought we also could do.

Realm of the Fifth Class Climber has a reputation for being on the easy side of 5.9, and also for being well-protected. It seemed like a good candidate for Gail and me. I also thought that since it ascends a prominent corner system we could be fairly sure we were in the right place when we started climbing, which is important at Millbrook! I didn't want to mistakenly stumble into 5.11 X territory.

Chris Fracchia (a fount of knowledge about Millbrook) had given me some advice about approaching Realm. He said we should rap in from directly above the climb rather than traversing over to it on the shelf popularly known as the "Death Ledge." The Death Ledge traverses the whole of Millbrook about one third of the way up the cliff, and all of the climbs start from this ledge rather than from the ground because the rock beneath the ledge is crumbly choss. The Death Ledge itself is pretty crumbly in spots, too, hence Chris' suggestion that we avoid it as much as possible by approaching our chosen climb from directly above.

We followed Chris' instructions and it seemed like we were in the right spot. We were able to find a good tree to rappel in from without too much trouble. By a stroke of dumb luck we stumbled upon another experienced Millbrook climber who confirmed we were in the right location, which gave us the confidence we needed to back our butts off of the cliff and into the unknown.

Even though I knew we'd found the right spot, I was nervous, just like the last time, as I stepped into the void and rappelled down the steep white cliff. Millbrook is a little bit spooky, there's just no getting around it.


(Photo: Rappelling down to the Death Ledge. The triangular roof visible up at the top of the photo is pretty much directly above the start of Realm of the Fifth Class Climber (5.9.).)

Once we got down to the Death Ledge, Realm of the Fifth Class Climber was easy to locate, just to the left of our landing point. The guidebook splits the climb into three pitches, but they are pretty short. I thought maybe I'd combine the first two into one 100 foot pitch.

I led the first 5.7 pitch up a right-facing corner without any trouble. The rock was pretty good and the climbing was mellow. I didn't place very much gear, hoping to reduce drag and save my favorite pieces for the crux climbing above. I finished the first pitch in no time and with plenty of gear left. But as I looked up at the intimidating crux of pitch two right above me, I worried that if I continued without stopping I might create some bad drag going in and out of the overhanging corner. And let's face it, I was still feeling some Millbrook jitters. I decided to bring Gail up and to do the route the traditional way, in three pitches.


(Photo: Gail climbing the last bits of pitch one of Realm of the Fifth Class Climber.)

Pitch two of Realm is a great pitch. It climbs another, larger right-facing corner. The crux comes near the start of the pitch as you escape a ceiling, climbing up to and around it and continuing up the corner system. There is a committing move out right from under the ceiling and then a challenging move up on the face with poor footholds, which leads to more good climbing up the corner with better holds. The pro is outstanding. You can place gear pretty much whenever you like in the crack at the back of the corner.

(Photo: Heading up pitch three of Realm of the Fifth Class Climber.)

After Gail joined me atop the cliff we rapped in again from the same tree as before. I was hoping we could take a short walk to the north on the Death Ledge to do Again and Again (5.7). I was intrigued by this climb's long traverse under a roof on pitch two. Though the climbing isn't supposed to be hard I thought the position under the roof might be very exciting. Also, after the roof traverse this climb meets Cuckoo Man (5.10) and I was considering checking out that climb's final roof problem.

But when we got back down I couldn't find a secure way to cross the ledge from Realm to Again and Again. The Death Ledge just north of Realm is so much worse than it is over by Westward Ha!. It is very steeply sloped and loose. I couldn't see a safe path across, and I wasn't eager to try to make it, even roped up. I pictured myself sliding right off into oblivion.

So we decided not to do Again and Again.

But the only way out was up. We had to climb something.


(Photo: Hanging out on the sloping, loose Death Ledge near Realm of the Fifth Class Climber.)

I had another moderate climb in mind, Old Route (5.5 or 5.7, depending on who you believe). This was the very first climb ever done in the Gunks. It was put up by the great Fritz Wiessner in 1935. Wearing sneakers (!!) and using just a couple of soft iron pitons for protection, he made history, establishing with this climb what would become THE eastern center of American rock climbing for the next half a century.

Gail and I crossed the Death Ledge over to Old Route without a problem. It is south of Realm, in the opposite direction from Again and Again. We pitched it out, staying roped up while we moved on the ledge. I slung some trees along the way. The ledge wasn't as terrible to the south of Realm, but it was still pretty junky and loose. It is just a touch more than 60 meters from Realm to Old Route. I stopped at a tree when I was just about out of rope, and then after Gail came over we scrambled up to the right-facing corner where the climb begins.

Everyone agrees on where this climb starts, at an obvious right-facing corner. But different guidebooks disagree about where the route goes from there. Dick Williams has the climb going straight up the corner until it ends and then veering left up a woodsy dihedral to the top, while Todd Swain sends the climber on a long horizontal traverse after the corner ends, finishing the climb in a totally different place. Chris Fracchia identifies on his website yet another possibility, this one based on Fritz's own recollections as published in Appalachia magazine in 1960. We did the climb this last way, going up the corner just until we reached a bush and ledge, then stepping left to a v-notch and, at the top of the notch, moving back right to the belay at the top of the corner. And then moving left as the Williams guide has it for the second pitch up the large vegetated right-facing corner to the top.

Standing beneath Old Route, we both had to wonder why Fritz picked this line out of all the thousands available in the Gunks. It doesn't look so great. My guess is that he chose it because it looked like it could be climbed. The initial corner has lots of features to grab on to and the part towards the top of the cliff goes up a gully/notch, so Fritz figured he wouldn't get shut down at some massive overhang.


(Photo: Pitch one of Old Route (5.7).)

The first pitch, it turns out, is well worth doing. The initial corner is easy and pretty dirty, nothing to write home about. But the move into the v-slot is a toughie (easily 5.7 or harder) and then the climbing up this slot is clean and interesting. Once you reach a roof and start to traverse right to the belay ledge the moves are easier again and the exposure is really nice. I would think that anyone following Fritz on this traverse in 1935 would have been terrified! If this pitch were in the Trapps, it would have been cleaned up by the passage of human traffic long ago and it would by now be a popular trade route.

But since this climb is at Millbrook it hasn't been cleared of its considerable debris. Every ledge is full of loose rocks-- some small, some the size of cinder blocks. I couldn't get through the pitch without knocking a couple of the small ones off, and I narrowly avoided sending down some of the big ones. The belay ledge, too, is a mess, covered in loose crap. And the trees there are not very useful for the belay. One tree is dead and the other is very small. I chose not to use them. Instead I moved up and left to the next ledge and built a gear belay in some cracks that seemed solid.


(Photo: Finishing the clean climbing at the beginning of pitch two of Old Route (5.7). It is pretty densely wooded the rest of the way.)

The second pitch begins with enjoyable moves up the wall to the left of the belay, and then you chimney/grovel your way to the top up the big dihedral with a wide crack at the back, past bushes, trees and lichen-- lots of lichen. It is all 5.easy climbing. I found it fun up to a point. By the time I got to fighting my way past the final tree I'd had about enough.

I doubt I'll ever do Old Route again but I'm glad we did it once, partly for the connection to Fritz Wiessner and also because the first pitch has some very nice moments.

Realm of the Fifth Class Climber, by contrast, was pretty high quality for most of its length and I would be happy to do that one again.

It was great to be out at Millbrook, no matter what we were climbing. The place has a special atmosphere and it is very enjoyable just to hang out at the belays and up atop the cliff. You feel removed from it all up there, much more so than at the Trapps or the Nears. The ground, the buildings, other climbers... all of them are much further away. The cliff demands caution and respect, but it also offers genuine adventure and some very good climbing. I hope not to wait another year to go back. I'd like to jump on Rib Cracker (5.9), The High Traverse (5.8 by one of the variation finishes), Again and Again/Cuckoo Man (5.7/5.10), maybe even The Time Eraser (5.10-), some time soon.

If we have some agreeable weather this summer (not too hot) I might be able to make it happen in the near future.

(Photo: The view out from the ravens' haven at the belay stance in the cave, on Erogenous Zone.)

I was excited to climb this past Saturday with Kathy, a new partner for me.

She isn't really a "new partner." Though this was our first time roping up together, she and I have been running into each other constantly at the gym and the crag for years. We've talked about routes and shared beta many times, and the conversation inevitably ends with us resolving to climb together. It just never seemed to happen until this week.

I love running into Kathy. She's always about to go on a great climbing trip, or she's just coming back from one. She never fails to have some amazing, ambitious project in her sights. Her enthusiasm is infectious. And her skills are impossible to deny. Through her travels she has become a solid crack climber and lately she's been obsessed with attacking off-widths, so that she can be truly well-rounded.

When we decided to get together on Saturday she told me she wanted to do this new route in the Trapps which she heard about from our local Millbrook expert (and friend of the blog) Chris Fracchia. The new route starts on the GT Ledge to the left of Andrew, inside a big cave at the back of the buttress that houses Twilight Zone. Chris and his friends named it Erogenous Zone.

Chris told Kathy that the first pitch of Erogenous Zone involves a 5.10 off-width crack. This was all Kathy needed to hear, given her recent fascination with wide cracks. If it had an off-width, she was up for it.

I have almost no experience with off-widths but I was game to try the climb. I just hoped I could get up it without making a fool of myself.

First we needed to get up to the GT Ledge. We hiked on out to the Andrew area. I was going to lead our first pitch of the day up to the ledge and I was thinking about two not-so-popular climbs in the vicinity that I hadn't yet tried, Proctor Silex (5.9+) and Man's Quest For Flight (5.8). But as I scoped them out I thought Proctor Silex looked kind of hard and Man's Quest looked really dirty, so I decided to do Silhouette (5.7), a climb that I'd really enjoyed once before.

I liked it just as much the second time around. The face climbing off the pedestal at the start is good, and then the traverse under the roof is really nice. Kathy thought the traverse was kind of thin for 5.7 and I think I agree. The final climbing up a vertical crack system over a couple of crux bulges makes for a beautiful finish. Silhouette has great, varied climbing all the way from the ground to the GT Ledge. I think it is one of my favorite 5.7's.


(Photo: Kathy just over the little roof on Silhouette (5.7).)

Once we were both on the GT Ledge we could see where we needed to go. I quickly led up the start of Andrew's second pitch, moving the belay up about 40 feet to a good ledge directly beneath the big cavern behind the Twilight Zone buttress.

Then Kathy stepped up to explore Erogenous Zone.

(Photo: Figuring out how to get into the wide crack of Erogenous Zone.)

For Kathy the biggest challenge was figuring out how to get started. She had to work her way upward into this bottomless crack. She turned herself around a few times and tested various holds before committing to the wideness. But once she went for it all hesitation disappeared. She slithered into the gap and squirmed her way up inside of it in what seemed like no time at all.


(Photo: Kathy fully swallowed by Erogenous Zone.)

After she finished the hard bit Kathy moved up to a ledge near the top of the cave, where Chris had suggested belaying by an old ravens' nest.

Now it was my turn, and I had the benefit of knowing which holds Kathy had used to get on the wall beneath the wide crack. Still, it took me a little while to get myself in place and commit to hauling my body up and into the crack.

Once I did so I realized that this isn't really an off-width. Technically, I would call it a squeeze chimney, since you get your whole body into the thing. As I pulled up into it, I quickly found myself firmly wedged inside. I knew I wouldn't fall out, which was nice. But I wasn't sure that I could move any further, which was not so nice.

Eventually, with a substantial amount of thrutching and grunting, I managed to move a little bit higher. I heard Kathy laughing at the ridiculous, involuntary sounds I was producing. I'd like to say the indignity of my situation made me even more determined to get the job done, but really I needed no additional motivation. The prospect of spending the rest of my life stuck in this stone coffin was reason enough for me to give the pitch my maximum effort.

I scrunched my way up some more, but then my progress was abruptly halted because my head got stuck. I was wearing a helmet, which (in retrospect) I do NOT recommend for this pitch. I panicked for a brief moment but then I got unstuck somehow and with a move slightly to the left I was able to get my head not just unstuck, but entirely out of the squeeze. Soon my whole body had escaped the chimney, and after I stopped hyperventilating, with victory in hand, I said to Kathy:

"That was awesome.... but I'm never doing that again!"


(Photo: View of the ridiculously overhanging territory ascended by Twilight Zone (5.13b) and its variations.)

Once I joined Kathy at the belay we tried to figure out where the next pitch was supposed to go. It appeared you could traverse out an overhanging orange face on one side of the cave. There was a sloping rail for the hands (but no feet to speak of) and a thin horizontal seam containing a couple of terrible ancient pitons (perhaps a sign of an old aid pitch or an unfinished project?). Chris had said something to Kathy about a single, desperate 5.11 move on this pitch, but to me the entire face looked desperate. And the pro appeared very thin and hard to place.

On the opposite wall of the cave we could easily traverse about fifteen or twenty feet to the v-notch of a different route called Moby Dick (5.8).

Kathy got on the orange wall a few times to see how she felt about it. It seemed very challenging, and we weren't sure this was where we were supposed to go. Maybe we were supposed to do the traverse higher, or was it lower? Was this the correct route or would we be discovering our very own Erogenous Zone (so to speak)?

Eventually Kathy decided she wasn't feeling it and we escaped to finish on Moby Dick. I was relieved. The orange face seemed like it would be scary for both the leader and the follower. Later I took a look at Chris' photos and realized that we were looking in the wrong place. Chris had traversed above, out the ceiling of the cave, which we never considered. When I told Kathy that we were looking too low, she responded with her typical enthusiasm: "Now we have to go back!"


(Photo: Kathy trying to make sense of the orange face after moving to beneath the notch on Moby Dick (5.8).)

I'm not sure I'll ever go back but Erogenous Zone was something rare in the Trapps: an unknown. I was glad we did it and I was pleased Kathy didn't have to hire a crane to haul me out of the squeeze chimney. It was also a good shady choice for this hot day.

We already had four pitches down and the day was slipping away. I needed to get on with my plan. I really wanted to go knock off Frustration Syndrome (5.10c), a climb that had given me fits during the last weekend in June. I figured the Slime Wall would have shade for us and we'd find some other good stuff to do down at that end of the cliff.

We arrived there to find no one around. We had the whole area to ourselves.

I felt strangely nervous as I started up the route. I don't know why. I knew exactly what I had to do. I wanted the red point and knew I could do it. I think I was just worried I'd do something stupid and blow a sequence somewhere unexpectedly.


(Photo: Climbing Frustration Syndrome (5.10c) in June.)

Everything went fine despite my shakiness. Once I got through the initial traverse and stood up in the main corner I calmed down a bit. I got my crux gear and then the hard move up to just beneath the final roof went well. I got a little pumped placing a nest of pro at the roof but when I stepped up into the finishing sequence it was never in doubt.

I felt very satisfied and not frustrated at all this time. Frustration Syndrome is a really nice little pitch with some good technical moments. And if you take the time to place the nuts it is very safe. I have it totally worked out now and I'd lead it any time.


(Photo: Kathy at the technical crux of Frustration Syndrome (5.10c).)

After we were done with Frustration Syndrome, Kathy took a look at some of the 5.11 climbs to its left. The Slime Wall has a whole bunch of these short 5.11 pitches. Kathy had previously led what looks to me like the best one, The Stand (5.11a). So she and I examined the other ones: April Showers (5.11a), Golden Showers (5.11a) and Comedy in Three Acts (5.11a). I was intrigued to see what these climbs were all about.

Though we were by now totally in the shade of the mid-afternoon, both of the Showers climbs felt pretty slimy in the heat and the opening moves seemed just about impossible. Kathy tested the holds a bit but then shifted her attention to Comedy in Three Acts.


(Photo: Kathy approaching the initial rooflet on Comedy in Three Acts (5.11a).)

Comedy in Three Acts is short. The hard bits are really hard. The opening rooflet is challenging and then the real crux comes above at a vertical cleft through a bulge in the rock. At this final crux you have to find a way to use the sloping edge of a little corner and some tiny crimps above it that face the opposite direction. Kathy didn't get it clean but I admired the way she worked at this hard lead. It is a bit heady, since the final crux is protected by a tiny nut and even assuming it holds you could hit the ledge below.


(Photo: Kathy entering the upper crux of Comedy in Three Acts (5.11a).)

After Kathy finished the pitch I hoped there was a chance for me to send it on my first try on top rope but I wasn't even close, sadly. I struggled on Comedy, much more than Kathy did. I needed more than one go at the initial overhang and then the final balance move up the cleft was a toughie. Eventually after several tries I found a way to make the last move and we were done.


(Photo: Starting up Comedy in Three Acts (5.11a).)

I'd like to think I could lead Comedy some time but I'm not even sure I care. I didn't enjoy it all that much. I know there are some spectacular 5.11's in the Gunks. Comedy in Three Acts isn't one of them. It's no Yellow Wall, that's for sure. It is a 45-foot scramble to a ledge with two brief hard sequences on it. And the fixed anchor is pretty manky, with some okay slings tied to a bunch of very rusty fixed nuts and hexes.

Still, even if I didn't think that much of the pitch, it was good to work on some moves above my level, something I should do much more often.

It was time for us to head out. It had been a good day, not too overwhelmingly hot and not at all crowded. I don't mind these summer days when the temperatures are in the eighties and the crowds go elsewhere. If you look for shade it isn't too bad out, and by mid-afternoon, when the sun goes behind the cliff, it can be perfectly pleasant. The only downside is the chiggers, and ugh, they seem to have been out in force for us. I was wearing long pants and I'm still covered in bites.

I'm so glad Kathy and I finally climbed together. I got some good experience in wide crack climbing and we had a very nice, easygoing time. I hope it won't take years for us to do it again.

(Photo: Nani on Classic (5.7).)

We are about to embark on the great sleepaway camp trek of 2014. My wife Robin and I are taking the kids to New Hampshire, dropping them off, and then we will take a little time off to do some hiking in the White Mountains.

I am very excited about the hiking, don't get me wrong.

But let's face it: hiking isn't climbing.

Friday was supposed to be a beautiful day in the Gunks, so I decided to start my little vacation with an extra day for climbing. I made plans to meet up with Nani so we could climb together for the first time this year.

Nani and I have been partners almost as long as I've been climbing. She's been there for some of my big climbing moments, both highs and lows. She was there for some of my first 5.9 leads, and she was there when I broke my ankle in a climbing fall in 2009. But for the last couple of years she's been in and out of the climbing habit and we've seldom been able to get together. Recently she's been getting back out there and she's decided to focus on getting used to trad leading, an aspect of the game that she's flirted with uncomfortably for a long time. I'm really psyched for her and I hope I'll have the opportunity to watch her grow into the confident leader I know she can be. I know that her climbing and gear placement skills are both very strong. She just needs to get used to handling the climbing and the pro at the same time and then she'll be ripping it up out there.

On Friday we got up to the Gunks to find it was a beautiful a day, as predicted. Since it was a weekday we had our pick of lines and we gave in to the temptation to stay close to the parking lot.


(Photo: If you follow the rope you'll see me at the end of Classic (5.7); I'm the blue dot up above the roof.)

I warmed us up with Classic (5.7). This was my first 5.7 lead back in 2008. It can be a little scary for the new leader because the hardest move is right off the ground and the pro for the first several sequences consists of fixed pitons. As of this writing the pitons seem solid. One of them was replaced just last year.


(Photo: Nani striking a cool pose during the early bits of Classic (5.7).)

Since this part of the cliff gets insanely crowded on the weekends, I generally avoid the whole area. But the first pitch of Classic is so nice. I forgot how nice it is. The moves are good throughout and consistently thoughtful. As long as the pitons are okay the pro is good too. The roof at the end is all jugs. It's probably no harder than 5.5.

After I led Classic, Nani took a turn leading Jackie (5.5). This is another quality pitch full of good moves.


(Photo: Nani at the finishing roof on Jackie (5.5).)

I always find Jackie a little confusing after the tree about 20 feet up. You can head left up a vertical seam or more easily right past a little ledge. And then you pull past an overlap, either at a right-facing corner at its left end or a few feet to the right. I've never been sure which is the "correct" route and it seems I change my mind every time. It's all good climbing. I think heading up the seam to the corner at the left end of the overlap is the path with the best gear. Nani worked it out on the lead and got through it just fine, despite my poor attempts to point her in the right direction.

A few weeks ago I decided I needed to go get the send on all of the climbs I've failed to on-sight on lead. Last week I managed to knock off one of them, Frustration Syndrome (5.10c). This was a good start but I have a bunch left to do.

So after we finished with Jackie we moved over to one of these climbs I've failed to send: P-38 (5.10b). It had been over a year since my first attempt at the route, but I thought I remembered what to do at the hardest move.


(Photo: Working my way up P-38 (5.10b).)

Well, I guess I waited too long. Turns out I didn't really remember much of anything. I couldn't for the life of me remember how I previously made the first hard move right off of the ground. It took some real thinking and experimenting but I eventually got over the initial hard bit, using a secret toe hold that I don't think I found last time.

Then, moving up the diagonal crack, I got flustered. Hadn't I been able to rest last time? I found the climbing so awkward. And then when I moved left into the crux I got very confused. I wanted to do a step-through move I remembered but I couldn't find it! Where was the pebbly toe hold I was aiming for? It turned out that the step through was still a few moves away. I discovered it again as if for the first time, after a few hangs.

Once I put it together and did the crux properly it felt straightforward. Again. I think there is some kind of lesson to be learned here about memory and expectations. I should have studied the route a little more carefully before I hopped on, and I should have approached the climb with more patience. I wasn't looking and thinking enough. I let my expectations dictate my actions and when reality didn't match my memory I got all messed up.

I know I can do this route cleanly if I go back to it THIS YEAR. I have it all worked out again.


(Photo: Doing the finishing moves on P-38 (5.10b).)

P-38 remains a nice pitch. I enjoy all of it, even the mellow traverse after the crux, and the finishing moves. There is gear everywhere. There has been a lot of run-off this year and right next to P-38 there is a filthy brown streak on the wall. But don't let that deter you, the climb itself is clean.

We decided not to do the Radcliffe walk-off which is right behind the climb. There seems to be a family of vultures inhabiting this descent route and we didn't want to bother them. Instead we scrambled up the notch to the top of the cliff and walked off the Uberfall descent.

It was Nani's turn again so she led pitch one of Dennis (5.5). This is another nice easy pitch with a (surprisingly hard!) "easy" bulge right off the ground and then some fun slabby low-angled climbing right after. The pitch steepens again towards the end. The gear is great for all of the challenging bits.


(Photo: Nani getting solid gear for the hardest moves on Dennis (5.5).)

We rapped off at the tree anchor atop pitch one and made the short journey over to another one of the demons from my past: Precarious Perch (5.9+). This one I failed to send just a few weeks ago. I knew exactly what to do, but still this was not going to be easy. The long reaches between crimps over the crux roof would be hard. I could easily mess it up.


(Photo: Starting up Precarious Perch (5.9++). Look, I can place gear while standing on one foot!)

Luckily it went very well. I cruised through the puzzling 5.8 move to get into the Jean corner and then I had no hesitation during the rightward thin traverse. I plugged in two good pieces below the Precarious Perch roof and got a good rest before firing through it.

I still think it's a 5.10. That roof move is a lunge/dead point. I was able to do it but I could easily have missed it. I can't think of another 5.9 roof like this. Jean is definitely easier, as is pitch two of MF, Keep on Struttin', Grim-Ace Face... I just can't think of any comparable 5.9's.

(Photo: Working on the roof on Precarious Perch (5.9+++). Sorry about the shadow of my arm in the shot.)

Anyway I was glad to take care of Precarious Perch. Nani, who'd danced up P-38 like it was nothing, had some trouble at the Precarious Perch roof. Once she got over it we decided we might as well try pitch two. It is rated 5.8 and someone on Mountain Project once said it was worth doing. Why not check out something new?

I thought it was actually pretty terrible. Pitch two of Precarious Perch has below-average Gunks face climbing with dirty rock that is at times loose. The first few moves up aren't bad, ascending a blocky left-facing corner. But after that it is not very nice. I couldn't find any 5.8 on it, either. I think I might have skipped the crux. I came to a spot with a long reach to a pointed horizontal hold. It looked kind of fragile to me so I touched it lightly. When I did so I thought that it creaked and flexed a bit. My last piece, below me, was a green Alien in questionable rock. I wasn't about to trust my weight to this suspect hold. So I moved to the right just a few feet and easily climbed around it. I probably should have continued traversing another five or ten feet to finish on pitch two of Sixish. It would have been more fun.


(Photo: Coming up the 5.8 pitch two of Precarious Perch.)

When Nani joined me on the GT Ledge I suggested that she could end our day with pitch three of Sixish. The pitch is only 5.4 but it is one of those special Gunks pitches, offering great exposure at a moderate grade as you traverse above the lip of one roof and below another, and then finish up a fun v-notch. The traversing nature of the pitch challenges the budding leader's rope management skills and the climb's finish at the top of the cliff, over a big overhang, can make communication difficult.

(Photo: Looking up at the big dihedral ascended by Horseman (5.5). Adrian is barely visible at the outside corner after the traverse.)

The summer always seems to slip on by, doesn't it?

For the last few weeks both of our kids have been at sleepaway camp, leaving Robin and me free to do WHATEVER.

You might think this situation would lead to tons of rock climbing for me.

But for the second year in a row it hasn't worked out that way.

I'm not bitter about this. Robin and I did lots of fun things together. The only slight downside was that these things did not include rock climbing.

We did some outstanding hiking. We had several wonderful days in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. First, before we dropped our daughter Leah at camp, we climbed three peaks out of Franconia Notch. We ascended the Falling Waters trail and hiked the ridge connecting Mounts Little Haystack, Lincoln, and Lafayette, then descended the Greenleaf Trail and the Old Bridle Path back to the notch.


(Photo: As you approach the top of the Falling Waters Trail you get a complete view of Cannon Cliff across the notch.)

Though she is not a huge fan of hiking, Leah made it through this rugged nine mile trip like a real trooper. She didn't even give me too much grief when I dropped our camera in a river.


(Photo: Checking out the view with Leah atop Mt. Lafayette.)

After we dropped Leah at camp, Robin and I did three more days of hiking, exploring the Presidential Range from many different angles.

(Photo: View north from Mt. Jackson towards Mts. Pierce, Eisenhower, Monroe, and Washington, though Washington's summit is obscured by a cloud.)


(Photo: View across the Great Gulf Wilderness to Mts. Jefferson, Adams, and Madison, taken while descending from Mt. Washington.)

We also spent a fun weekend with some friends in the Adirondacks, hiking up to the top of Mount Giant on Saturday and doing a little kayaking in the Saranac Lakes region on Sunday.

(Photo: Robin and I paddling in sync for a brief shining moment. Photo by Karen Froehlich.)

With all of this physical activity, I was at some risk of improving my fitness while the children were away, but fear not: the rest of our free days were filled with a never-ending parade of restaurant meals and bottles of wine. By the time I finally got back to the Gunks last Sunday (after almost a month away), I felt chubby and out of shape.

Nevertheless, before our day of climbing I sent my partner Adrian a list of about fifteen 5.10 pitches I was eager to hit. Some of them were new for me but many were climbs I needed to redpoint after failing on my first (or even second) attempt.

At the top of my list was P-38 (5.10b), a climb that defeated me just a few weeks ago. I was tempted to go right to it when we arrived at the Trapps but we decided instead to warm up on Horseman (5.5).

Adrian led Horseman and to better manage drag he did not clip the fixed pin anchor when he traversed around the corner. Since there was no gear over to the left around the corner, I decided (just for a change of pace) to try the direct route when I followed, going straight up through the overhang and skipping the usual traverse. This has always looked harder than 5.5 to me, but looks can be deceiving. You don't really climb it as a roof but instead do a few casual moves on the left wall, and then very quickly you are back on the regular route. It was perfectly nice but I think the regular traverse is more fun.

With Horseman finished we marched over to P-38. This time I hoped I would remember my beta and get the send.


(Photo: Starting up my arch-nemesis, P-38 (5.10b).)

I was surprised to find myself puzzling through the first hard move over the low overhang, once again. I thought I knew what to do, but I still had to work it out. "Here I go again," I thought.

This brought to mind a song.

A Whitesnake song.

Here I go again, on my own, I sang.

Going down the only road I've ever known!

Then I decided to change it up a little bit:

Like a drifter I was born to climb the stone!

Though I'm nobody's poet I thought this variation wasn't half bad. Adrian then threw in his own contribution:

But I've made up my mind... I ain't climbing no more nines!

Hilarious. Or we thought so. Another one Adrian came up with:

But I know what it means... to climb upon this lonesome wall of seams!

All we needed was Tawny Kitaen.


(Photo: Trying to do well on P-38 (5.10b).)

Anyway, I fought through the first move successfully and then tried to do everything well. I placed good gear and made sure to milk the rest before the crux. Then I moved up and left into the business. I knew what to do; I just had to execute.

But I couldn't make it. Despite the rest, I got pumped out. It was hot outside. The holds felt greasy. And I just felt weak. I started to high step but sensed I was about to slip. I had to hang. It took me a few more tries to get it done. Finally I did the move and it felt so much harder than before. Maybe this just wasn't going to be my day.

I felt very out of shape indeed.

Adrian managed to follow it cleanly, which he made sure to mention repeatedly.

Next we moved down to the Mac Wall. Adrian wanted to climb Higher Stannard (5.9-). He'd tried to get on it the day before but there was a slow party on it so he never got around to it. It is a favorite of mine so I was happy to follow him on it. I hoped it would give me a clue as to what I could lead next. I felt so pumped out after P-38 that I wasn't sure whether I should try to lead anything else that was challenging.



(Photo: Adrian at the corner crux on MF (5.9).)

I felt good enough on MF to hop right on Try Again. Adrian was gracious enough to let me lead twice in a row.

Back in April I'd taken three tries to figure out the hard roof. I hoped that with the beta in my mind I would get through it on the first try this time. And I hoped I'd feel strong enough.


(Photo: Trying again on Try Again (5.10b).)

Well, I tried again to do everything right. I successfully negotiated the slightly sketchy 5.9 move off the ledge. Then I got up the two corners below the roof, clipped the pin, and managed to get into the rest position.

So far, so good, but as I tried the roof I was mystified. I couldn't get over it, and I couldn't remember how I did it the last time. I took a hang. Then I fell. I fell again and kept right on falling.

Here I go again, on my own.....

Finally I realized that I'd been missing a crucial hold, right there in front of my face. Once I spotted it, I used it and got over the roof, furious with myself and exhausted.

It just wasn't my day, I guess.

(Photo: Adrian on Try Again (5.10b).)

Adrian didn't do much better than I did on Try Again and by the time we were done with it he was feeling pretty wiped out and ready to quit. He had a long drive back to Montreal ahead of him. We decided to head back to the Uberfall area where maybe I'd lead something quick if it was open.

We found Apoplexy (5.9) available so I hopped on it.

There was a ranger behind us hanging out at his truck as we began the climb. Right before I started up, Rich Romano rode up on a mountain bike and started chatting with the ranger.

Now, I don't know Rich, though I have introduced myself to him once or twice. I see him around the Gunks all the time. It is no exaggeration to say that he is one of the boldest and most prolific route developers of his generation. He basically single-handedly developed the entire Millbrook cliff without the use of a single protection bolt. While filling in the lines at Millbrook he put up numerous R/X routes in the 5.10-5.12 range, several of which are so scary they have never seen a second ascent.

He is a giant among men.

I was conscious of him being there as I began the climb but I was able to put it out of my mind relatively quickly. I am comfortable on Apoplexy and didn't mind an audience.

Soon I passed the scary flake where it can be hard to find good gear. It can be hard, that is, unless you know about the secret pink Tricam placement. I will happily let you in on this intelligence if you like, inducting you, dear reader, into the Secret Gunks Tricam Society.

Here is the beta, free of charge:

There is a shallow pocket just up and right of the scary flake. It won't take a cam but if you pop a pink Tricam in just right, with the stinger facing up, it will catch on a little lip giving you a solid placement. Set it with a flick of the wrist and you are good to go. BOMBER!

I had heard for years about this secret placement but I gave up on it after trying once in vain to find it. Later, when I was climbing Apoplexy on another occasion with Gail, she suggested I look again and I was able to make it work. I wasn't sure how solid it was but when Gail followed the pitch she bounce-tested the piece and it held. So now when I climb Apoplexy I have no worries at the flake. I pop in the secret Tricam and I move on.


(Photo: Apoplexy (5.9), with the secret Tricam in place. I'm in the photo up at the top, almost done with the chimney finish.)

As I passed the flake the other day with Adrian, I wasn't listening to Romano or the ranger but Adrian later reported to me that Romano said something to the ranger about how difficult it is to protect Apoplexy through the middle. And the ranger then pointed up and said "I don't know about that. This guy found the secret Tricam placement!"

"This guy" was me.

When I heard this story I felt very proud. I only wished I'd heard it at the time. I could have basked in the glory of the secret Tricam placement and danced that much more lightly up the rock.

Despite this undeniable triumph, it was hard not to leave the Gunks thinking that I have a lot of work to do. I am out of shape and I need to get back in it if I want to make progress. I haven't been cycling and I've gained a few pounds.

Sending season is just around the corner. I don't have tons of time, but if I just get a little more fit in the next month I'm sure I can get back on track by the time the good weather hits. In addition, I have a big trip planned to the Red River Gorge in October and I want to be in good shape for the overhanging jug fest that the Red is known to be. I don't need to be hauling any spare tires up the steepness.

Perhaps I am hard on myself. Hot weather saps the energy and makes everything feel greasy. I should be happy that climbs like Apoplexy and MF-- routes that inspired fear in me a few years ago-- are my safety choices nowadays. If in years to come, as I get even more over-the-hill, I can still feel unfazed about attacking climbs like MF, I hope I remember to feel great about it.

(Photo: The First, Second and Third Flatirons (from right to left), looming above Boulder.)

Another summer vacation in Colorado meant another chance for me to do a little climbing.

My family spent a week in the (beautiful!) Salida area doing lots of fun stuff that did not include rock climbing. Horseback riding, zip lining, hiking (including our first fourteener, Mount Yale), stand-up paddle boarding, mountain biking... we had tons of outdoor fun, but all week I eagerly anticipated the two days of rock climbing I was planning to do with my old friend and partner Vass when my family returned to the greater Denver area.

Two years ago, while I was in Colorado on a similar vacation, Vass and I had a good day in Boulder Canyon and the next morning climbed the Yellow Spur (5.9) in Eldorado Canyon. I liked our day in Boulder Canyon well enough, but I loved our time in Eldo. I was taken in by the red sandstone with the bright green lichen, and by the majesty of the enormous Redgarden wall. And the climbing, while not exactly like the Gunks, was instantly comfortable for me. There is a certain Gunksy quality to the climbing at Eldo, both in the grades and the feel of the rock. The cracks aren't as relentlessly horizontal as they are in the Gunks (in fact, usually they are diagonal) but the techniques and the gear placements are similar.

The last time I was in Colorado I knew ahead of time that I wanted to tackle the Yellow Spur, one of the best 5.9 climbs in the state. This year I wasn't sure what I wanted to do. As my two days with Vass approached, I thought the weather forecast might preclude any climbing at all. Rain was predicted for several days in a row. I remembered topping out on the Yellow Spur two years ago with a storm coming in and I wasn't sure I wanted to put myself in that position again. But Vass wasn't worried. He assured me that rain in the forecast at this time of year usually meant afternoon showers. We could probably get plenty of climbing done in the mornings and then see how the afternoons shaped up.

Vass suggested we could start with one of the Flatirons. These flat sandstone rock faces lean back on the hills just above Boulder. The major formations are numbered from the north to south. The Flatirons were the scene of much of the early development of rock climbing in Colorado, and today there are thousands of routes spread among the many formations. But most of the traffic is centered on the trade routes up the popular First and Third Flatirons, which are close to central Boulder. The main routes up these Flatirons feature run out low-angled slab climbing at a moderate grade. On any given day you can see beginners taking much of the day pitching out the classic routes on these Flatirons, while confident free soloists run past, finishing the same routes in an hour or less.

We weren't planning to go ropeless, but Vass figured we could quickly romp up the Direct East Face route (5.6) on the First Flatiron. This route covers over 1000 feet of climbing, and is traditionally done in around ten pitches, but Vass believed we could knock it off in a few hours if we simul-climbed the easiest pitches, meaning that we would climb together at the same time, at either end of the rope, with several pieces of gear between us. I had never simul-climbed before but I was willing to try it so long as I felt comfortable on the slab. Slab climbing is not wholly unfamiliar to me but my experience in it is limited. Vass has known me a long time, and he knew our route well. I trusted him to know what we could reasonably do. He explained that the first pitch has the hardest climbing on the route. If I could follow the first pitch easily then he figured we'd be fine to simul-climb.

When we met up on Monday, some dark clouds were rolling through the Boulder area, but it looked like it might clear up in short order. We hiked up to the First Flatiron to find another party already bailing off of our route. They'd done the first pitch but decided to come down when it rained for a few minutes.

This was not a great sign.

We hadn't detected any rain on the walk up. We decided to go ahead with the climb. It was getting much brighter out and Vass knew there was a bolted anchor at the top of the traditional pitch two. He would combine the first two traditional leads into one pitch and if the weather was poor we could always bail from there.

I watched Vass calmly lead this extremely run out pitch, using almost the entire length of our 60 meter rope. There are two protection bolts along the way but they don't provide a great deal of comfort. Despite these bolts there are many spots at which a fall would be a very bad idea. Vass got through it all with no worries, getting maybe three gear placements (besides the bolts) in nearly 200 feet of climbing. I was happy I could follow him cleanly without any trouble, though I wasn't sure I felt comfortable enough to lead through this same territory. The early going on this route has pure friction climbing, without much in the way of features for the hands or the feet. Though at first I felt jittery, as I settled into it I started to really enjoy it. The sandstone has a grippy texture and as I grew accustomed to the movement I started to feel more confident in my feet.


(Photo: Vass has just clipped the first bolt on pitch one of the Direct East Face of the First Flatiron (5.6).)

By the time I joined Vass at the belay all traces of rain were gone. It was now a sunny morning. I had to decide whether to lead the next pitch, another 200-foot rope stretcher with very little gear. Vass told me it was going to be easier than the last pitch. I'd felt fine on the rock so far, so I decided to go for it. It turned out to be great fun, and it was indeed easier, with more features to grab here and there. The climbing was mellow; Vass said it was 5.5 but that was meaningless to me when it came to slab. All I cared about was that it felt casual. I found four or five gear placements in nearly 200 feet. I tried to be very precise with my footwork and not to fret about the distance to the gear. By the time I finished leading this pitch I was feeling pretty comfortable with the Flatiron style.


(Photo: Vass following me on our long, sparsely protected pitch two.)

Now Vass proposed we simul-climb the next three pitches. Vass was definitely the stronger climber of the two of us in this environment, given his greater slab and Flatiron experience, and he was planning to go first. This violated the prime directive of simul-climbing, which holds that the stronger climber should go second. This rule exists to minimize the risk of the second falling and pulling the leader down off of the rock. But Vass was thinking that the climbing over the next few pitches would be very easy, with lots of features, and that a mistake in route finding would be the only way either of us was likely to fall. Since he basically knew the way already it made sense for him to go first.


(Photo: Vass heading up our middle simul section of the Direct East Face.)

I went with it and it worked out fine. For at least half the distance I had him on belay as usual but when the rope was nearly tight I dismantled the anchor, took Vass off belay, and started climbing behind him. As he predicted, everything was totally calm and easy.

I led the next two pitches to the summit ridge. The final pitch to the ridge was the best one on the route, in my opinion, with several pure slab moves around a ceiling/corner and into a notch with a crack at the back. This pitch has some committing moments but because it follows a corner and a crack it has much better gear than most of the route. I never felt that I was terribly run out on this pitch.


(Photo: View over to the Third Flatiron from just below the summit ridge on the First. Still sunny!)

Now we were almost atop the First Flatiron, with a scramble up the ridge our only obstacle to the summit. (This last bit is traditionally done in three pitches.) We were in a great position, with expansive views over Boulder and, looking sideways, to the summit of the Third Flatiron. And now that we could see over the back of the formation we had a clear view of the Front Range in Rocky Mountain National Park, including Long's Peak.

But now we could also see some dark clouds about to roll in. Luckily, due to the peculiar geography of the Flatirons, even though we'd been climbing for 1000 feet we were only a single rappel away from reaching the ground behind the leaning cliff from pretty much anywhere on the summit ridge. We could leave gear and bail at any time if we really needed to.


(Photo: Vass racing up to the top as the clouds rapidly roll in.)

Our plan was to simul-climb quickly to the summit where there is a bolted rap anchor. Vass led off as the clouds came closer. Once I took him off belay and started climbing behind him it started to sprinkle. I tried not to worry and was very careful not to do anything stupid. Just then a shirtless free soloist came running past me. He politely asked permission to pass and when I granted it he hurried on, pausing only to utter an expletive about the rain. Soon he was out of sight, and as I resumed climbing, shaking my head, I could tell from the way the rope was being pulled in that Vass had reached the top and that I was now on a traditional belay. Feeling relieved, I finished scrambling to the top in a light rain. As I reached the summit the storm passed over, giving us an opportunity to take in the view from the top for a few minutes before we rapped off and walked back down to Boulder.

I loved the experience of climbing in the Flatirons and would gladly do it again. The unique formations of the area are a real treat, and by the end of the route I started to enjoy the slab mindset, though this kind of climbing only makes sense to me if it is several grades below your limit, making a fall extremely unlikely.

Unfortunately our day was just about shot, even though it was early afternoon and we still had plenty of time left. We drove over to Eldo, hoping to run up the Bastille Crack (5.7). But another, bigger storm came in as we parked. We never got started. After waiting a while in vain for the rain to pass we drove back to Boulder to find that Boulder Canyon was actually dry-- it appeared not to have rained there at all. But after all the driving around and waiting we only managed to squeeze in one more mediocre pitch there before we had to call it quits.

The next day dawned cloudy and damp, with more thunderstorms predicted for the afternoon. Vass and I met up at Eldo anyway and found that despite it all everything looked dry. There were plenty of people out climbing at 9:30 a.m. on a Tuesday. The Wind Tower, a mecca of moderate routes, was full of climbers. And there were already two parties on the aforementioned Bastille Crack (5.7), which was no surprise since it is the most popular climbing route in Colorado (and perhaps the world). Its moderate difficulty and proximity to the parking lot make it the High Exposure of Eldo. There is almost always a crowd waiting to climb it.

There were countless other classic climbs in Eldo that I'd never tried so there was no reason to wait for anything. Even though it was looking brighter out we still had the threat of rain hanging over us, so we decided to head up to the huge Redgarden Wall to climb Rewritten, a six pitch 5.7 with a famous airy traverse pitch and a glorious, exposed finishing variation to the top of the cliff up a knife-edge ridge known as Rebuffat's Arete. We figured we could get this climb done without wasting too much time. We decided to up the ante just a little bit by skipping the first pitch of Rewritten and instead doing the popular alternative first pitch of its harder neighbor, The Great Zot (5.8).

By the time we hiked up to the base of the Great Zot it was warm and sunny out. We were in business.

I led up the Great Zot and really enjoyed the first pitch. The crux is puzzling, pulling over an awkward wide crack/pod. Steve Levin's guidebook advises you to jam out of it but Vass told me he'd laid it back. I suppose I chose to jam, but this was not exactly sustained Yosemite-style jamming. This was more like Gunks jamming, throwing a fist in for just long enough to get your feet up so you can grab higher face holds. I'd bet that there are multiple solutions to the problem and the gear is good, so I highly recommend it. At Vass' urging I continued up the easy and loose second pitch of Rewritten and made it in a single lead to the bolted anchor 200 feet up on what is known as the Red Ledge.


(Photo: Already high above the ground after a single long pitch on The Great Zot/Rewritten.)

Vass led the next pitch. It started out a little junky off of the rotten Red Ledge but ended with a fun 5.6 chimney. And then it was time for me to lead the famous traverse pitch, which heads straight left for about fifteen feet. There is a great handrail and wonderful gear, but the footholds are just tiny nubbins. I was drooling with excitement just looking at it. It is not unlike Thin Slabs Direct (5.7+) back in the Gunks, but it is shorter and not as steep. I enjoyed it tremendously, marveling all the way at the perfect tiny toe bumps that appeared just where I wanted them. After the thrill of the traverse, the pitch follows a fun crack system upward. I stopped to belay at a ledge with a dead tree which was at the base of Rebuffat's Arete, the final knife-edge feature to the top of the cliff.


(Photo: Vass reaching the end of the traverse pitch of Rewritten (5.7).)

As I waited for Vass to reach me at the dead tree ledge, I started to grow alarmed.

It was happening again. Rain clouds were headed our way.

Were we doomed to finish every long climb in the rain? This was our third one in a row! It had even happened to Vass and me a fourth time, back in the Gunks a few years back, when we got totally drenched by a sudden storm as we topped out on the last pitch of Lisa (5.6) in the Trapps. We seemed to be in the habit of getting soaked.

This time it appeared to me that we might be cutting it kind of close. This was an electrical storm, though the lightning still seemed to be miles away. We'd left our raincoats behind, at the base of the cliff, thinking we were in the clear.

It was Vass' turn to lead, but he'd led Rebuffat's Arete before and wanted me to have the opportunity. I was eager to lead it-- it looked awesome-- and I wanted to get a move on to get us out of the rain. So I took the gear and hurried onward.

It is a beautiful pitch, incredibly exposed with very good climbing up the thin arete, some 500 feet off the ground. Just as I got to the knife-point edge of the arete and started upward, the rain reached us. The thunder and lightning were still some ways off but everything started to get wet. I tried to motor on up and happily I found the arete to be easier than the advertised 5.7. Gear was plentiful too. I was tempted to run it out but then I started to have morbid (and unrealistic) thoughts of what would happen if I were struck by lightning without gear nearby. Shuddering, I resolved to place gear often, but quickly.


(Photo: A rushed shot of Vass working his way up Rebuffat's Arete in the rain.)

At the top of the amazing arete I was peeved to discover that there was another fifty feet of climbing still to go, up a wall behind the arete! I hustled up an easy crack, getting wetter. Flopping over the top edge of the cliff, I put Vass on belay and silently urged him to move quickly to the summit so we could get the hell out of there. As he climbed I listened to the anxious belay commands of others who, like us, were still working to get themselves quickly off the wall before the situation got serious. I tried to judge the distance to the center of the storm, watching the lightning flashes in the distance and counting the seconds until I heard the corresponding peals of thunder.


(Photo: Vass working to free a stuck nut just below the very top of Rewritten (5.7), 550 feet up, in the rain.)

Once we were both on top we got a brief reprieve. The rain slowed to a trickle as we briskly walked off of the north end of the Redgarden Wall. We'd made it, though we should probably have brought up our raincoats.

I don't mean to be too dramatic. We deliberately chose a route that we would feel comfortable climbing even if it were wet. We were lucky that it only rained lightly until we were basically finished, so we were never truly drenched. Just as we returned to our packs and got our rain gear it began coming down again in earnest, and by the time we got back to the car it was a steady downpour.

We drove into Boulder for burgers and beer at the Southern Sun Pub and Brewery. We figured we were done.

After our meal we went next door to Neptune Mountaineering and browsed for a bit. To our surprise, the weather suddenly seemed to clear up. The bacon cheeseburger and fries I'd ingested were still rolling around in my core and the pint of ale I'd thrown down had rendered me just a little bit light-headed. Vass was supposed to drop me in Denver in a couple of hours, but we still had some time to kill....

Could we climb a little more?

Really there was no question about the right course of action. After a quick "should we?" glance at each other, we ran back to Eldo (with a stop for coffee along the way) and I finally led the first pitch of the famous Bastille Crack.


(Photo: That's me placing bomber gear for the step across on pitch one of the Bastille Crack (5.7).)

It was fun. The crux for me (other than wiping all of the wet dirt off of my climbing shoes) was moving up on polished footholds to the big left-facing flake just 20 feet or so off the ground, with somewhat iffy gear underneath the flexing flake. Once I made this move up I found it easy to reach over and place a bomber cam in the left crack before committing to the step across. The rest of the pitch has giant holds, perfect foot jams, and bomber pro. 5.7 seems like a fair grade. It might be a touch soft for 5.7.

I didn't think this pitch was anything amazing but I didn't get to do the rest of the climb. If the whole thing is as good as the first pitch then it is certainly a worthwhile multi-pitch outing.

With our remaining time I quickly top-roped the Northcutt Start (5.10d), a nice line just to the left of the Bastille Crack. It has interesting moves (easier than 5.10) up a vertical crack in a corner and then a hard crux sequence up and around a bulge to the right to arrive at the Bastille Crack's bolted anchor. The crux sequence is crimpy, with poor footholds. I got flustered trying to figure out how to move up into the bulge and took a hang, blowing the top rope on-sight. Then I committed and just did it, and it wasn't so terribly hard. I could see leading it. The crux is protected by two fixed pitons, a welcome sight for any Gunkie like me.

Now it really was time to go. As if on cue, we heard the sound of thunder in the distance while we were packing up. As we drove out of Boulder I could see our old friend the rain coming into Eldo behind us once again.

I've still barely scratched the surface of the lifetime of climbing that is available in the Boulder area and on this particular trip I can't say I really challenged myself. But the slab and simul-climbing were new experiences for me, and I'm happy with how much we got done in our two days, given the weather situation. I'd love to come back and climb in Colorado again. I'd prefer to do it with a little less anxiety about thundershowers!

But maybe when it comes to Vass and me it is simply our destiny to finish our climbs in the rain.

(Photo: Climbers on High Exposure (5.6+), seen from where Doubleissima (5.10b) reaches the GT Ledge.)

My first trip to the Red River Gorge is just a few weeks away.

I've been trying to prepare. I'm working to get into better shape. I feel more motivated than I have in a while.

I've had a pretty good month on my bicycle, riding regularly.

I've been leading the overhanging 5.11 climbs in the gym (and occasionally sending). Maybe when I climb the overhanging 5.11 sport climbs in the Red, they won't feel too unfamiliar?

And I've changed my diet. For a little more than a week-- i.e., more than SEVEN DAYS-- I've been following a strictly vegan diet.

Yes, I said it: I'm a vegan.

The big "V."

The beast with no meat.

(Or dairy.)

It is a big change for me. I have always eaten animals and animal products. I do the cooking in our household and we are all rather enthusiastic carnivores. Chicken, beef, pork, fish, cheese, you name it-- we eat probably way too much animal protein. I also love to bake desserts, and the notion of saying goodbye to eggs and butter seems like crazy talk.

This isn't an ethical stand I'm taking. I'm not going vegan because I have a concern about the unjust subjugation of animals. I mean, don't get me wrong, I do of course care about the subjugation of animals. I care deeply about the subjugation of animals. Just not enough to stop me from eating and exploiting them.

Rather, my goal in all this is simple. I'm trying to reduce my caloric intake and decrease the amount of junk food on which I snack during the day. You see, as I decrease the number of things I can eat, it becomes easier not to eat a lot of crap. If I'm not allowed to eat anything, I won't eat at all. It's perfectly logical.

And it's working. Over the past few weeks I've lost a few pounds. I feel lighter and fitter.

A side benefit of the veganism is that it seems to drive my wife Robin utterly crazy. When she saw that I'd purchased soy milk she instantly knew what I was up to and went into a rage. "This is what you're doing now??" she said, incredulous.

I could only shrug.

Something about the vegan thing just pushes her buttons.

The other night I cooked steak for her and the kids, but I didn't eat any.

"So you're not having any of this??" she asked.

"You know I can't," I explained, patiently. "I'm a vegan."

"YOU ARE NOT A VEGAN!"

She did have a point there.

But actually I am a vegan, at least for a while. And I'm enjoying it, so far.

It hasn't been that much of a deprivation. I've been cooking new, delicious dishes that have been a pleasure to eat. I've made gazpacho and ratatouille and chana dal. I'm sure there are tons of other tasty, nutritious meals I'll make before I get hopelessly bored with the vegan lifestyle. I know I won't be vegan forever, and anyway I'm not sure it is the best diet in the long run. But in the short term I think it may be very good for me.

I should have told my climbing partner Nani about this new vegan lifestyle before we got together to climb last Sunday. Nani often brings tasty treats to share when we go climbing. I meant to mention it to her, but I forgot, and then I was forced to decline the ham and egg sandwich she brought me for breakfast.

That one hurt. I can still smell that tasty sandwich.

But you would have been proud of me. I got through it. I persevered. I spurned the sandwich. And I think Nani forgave me for not eating it.

Sunday was a beautiful day. The scheduled high was in the seventies. I hoped the Gunks wouldn't be too crowded since Saturday had been a disaster: hot, humid, and stormy.

I had a 5.10 on my mind. It was one of my past failures: Directississima aka Doubleissima (5.10b). I felt like I'd let too much time pass (two years!) since I tried it the first time. And I really needed to improve on my past performance. When I first tried it, I got my butt kicked. I struggled so much in the crux bulge that I got exhausted and I abandoned the climb without finishing it.

It was time to try again. I knew I could do better. And I thought the steep, pumpy nature of the climb would be good prep for the Red River Gorge.

But I wasn't about to warm up with such a hard route. I thought we could do some other stuff nearby and then if I felt good I could hit Doubleissima.

We walked down to the High E area and saw that everything was basically open. I hadn't been on Bonnie's Roof (one of my favorites) this year and it occurred to me that though I'd led the route a few times I'd never led Bonnie's Direct (5.9) from the ground to the top in a single pitch before. I thought it would be a nice way to start our day with a bang. And if the Direct finish felt pretty casual I'd be well set for Doubleissima.


(Photo: Just past the namesake pitch one ceiling on Bonnie's Roof (5.9).)

It went well. I tried to conserve gear by placing nuts instead of cams during the early going. It turned out to be easy: you can protect almost the whole climb with great sinker nuts! It was a good exercise and I think I probably had the most reliable gear I've ever had on the climb. I still threw in the schweeet blue # 3 Camalot at the first roof crux. But aside from that piece I used very few of my favorites and I arrived at the perch beneath the Direct finish with a full range of cams.

(Photo: Nani heading up Sleepwalk (5.7).)

In my opinion it is on the easy side of 5.7 but there are a few technical sequences. It is clean and fun and it ends at a bolted anchor, which makes setting up the belay simple for the budding leader.

Nani led it without a hitch, of course. The climb is well beneath her abilities. When I joined her at the bolts I decided it might be nice to lead the 5.7- second pitch of Lichen 40 Winks. This was a new one for me. Dick Williams describes the pitch as having clean white rock and a good roof problem.


(Photo: Nani at the crux on the 5.7- pitch two of Lichen 40 Winks.)

And Dick is right. It is a nice little pitch, with enjoyable climbing and an interesting little roof. The quality climbing is pretty brief, though, and I thought the gear was a little bit spaced out. I wouldn't necessarily put a new 5.7 leader on this pitch. It has three or four nice moves and is certainly worth doing once.


(Photo: View down the cliff from the belay stance atop pitch two of Lichen 40 Winks. A climber is visible on the GT Ledge beneath the crux pitch of High Exposure (5.6+).)

After we rapped back down it was time for Doubleissima.

We walked over and found the route open and in the shade. It was gorgeous out. Conditions were never going to be better than this.

I had a plan. As I did on Bonnie's, I wanted to conserve gear through the traditional first pitch (which is 5.8 and only 40 feet long), and then I'd keep on going right into the second, which begins with a crux bulge right off of a ledge. I would climb up into the bulge and place good pro, then I'd climb back down and rest, so that I could then fire through the bulge and still have some gas left for the steep climbing up to the roof, which is the second crux.


(Photo: Nani on Doubleissima, after both cruxes.)

I tried really hard to execute my plan perfectly. After I walked up the initial 40 feet with no worries, I found that I could go up and down into the crux bulge and place as much gear as I liked. So that part worked out well. I ended up going up and down a couple of times. I got a good rest before I decided to go for it at the crux move.

But I still blew it, getting a little befuddled by a loose hold (with chalk all over it) in the middle of the crux. I adjusted, trying to avoid this hold, but I got tired, misread the sequence and then took a hang.

It went much better after that, however. I went back up and got over the bulge easily on the next try, without using the little loose hold. And I managed to climb the rest of the pitch cleanly. I milked whatever rests I could find on my way up to the roof and got through the second crux just fine. After the roof, the angle eased off a bit and I found it less difficult the rest of the way to the GT Ledge.

Man, what a climb! It just keeps coming at you, so steep and sustained. I was disappointed that I blew the send but it went so much better than my last attempt that I'm reasonably pleased about how it all worked out. I know I can do this climb now, it's just a matter of time. And I was very safe about it. People have tweaked their ankles when they've fallen at the bulge but I think if you take the trouble to place the obvious gear this won't happen to you. The cruxes on Doubleissima are very well protected.


(Photo: Some dude up on the GT Ledge above Doubleissima.)

As the follower, Nani got over the first crux with no problems but she struggled a bit at the roof. She arrived on the GT Ledge feeling pumped out. I wanted her to lead High E but she preferred to have a rest. So I decided to lead the final, 5.8 pitch of Lakatakissima, which is pretty much directly above you when you reach the GT Ledge on Doubleissima. It was another new pitch for me. Dick gives it two stars, a high rating. It looked juggy and steep. I figured it would ease off after the overhang about fifteen feet up. Why not try it?

I enjoyed the pitch and I'd definitely do it again, but like Doubleissima this pitch is sustained and steep. It may appear it will get easier after the rooflet but there are a few more steep bulges yet to go. It doesn't really ease up until just before the top of the cliff. It is good, juggy climbing all the way, though. I haven't checked out the last pitch of Doubleissima, twelve feet to the left, but if you've come up the first two pitches of Doubleissima then you should consider finishing on Lakatakissima. It is a worthwhile continuation of the climbing up to the GT Ledge.

When we got back to the base of the cliff we took a break, having a snack while we watched two other leaders struggle with Doubleissima. It was suddenly very crowded at the base of High E.

We'd done seven guidebook pitches and it was already late afternoon. We had time for one more climb. I suggested to Nani that we could do Modern Times (5.8+). It was sitting there open and I hadn't been on it this year. (It is another favorite of mine.) I thought Nani would enjoy leading the mellow 5.7 pitch one. I wasn't sure if she'd enjoy the amazing, scary roof on pitch two but she'd never done it and I thought she should have the experience!


(Photo: Arriving at the GT Ledge after pitch one of Modern Times.)

Nani had fun leading the first pitch. It is a pretty unremarkable stretch of Gunks face climbing. But it is rather long (maybe 160 feet?), so the leader has to be careful to conserve gear for the little roof crux which comes almost at the end, just before the GT Ledge.

Leading pitch two, I had no worries. It was my third time leading Modern Times. Nevertheless, as I got up to the stance before the big move out into the roofs, I still felt the thrill of it all. There is great gear, and I already knew what to do, but the climb requires such a big move out off of the wall, with so much air beneath you, that I got a little bit scared despite my prior experience on the route.


(Photo: That's me waving from the belay stance above the crux overhangs of Modern Times (5.8+).)

But it all went fine and soon enough I was on the ledge above the crux, which I always think of as a great park bench in the sky. I love to sit there with my feet dangling in space, relaxing and taking in the view. I put Nani on belay and hoped she would send the route and, more importantly, enjoy its airy qualities as much as I do.

In the early going Nani seemed disturbed by the huge flake-- really just a stack of blocks-- that the pitch ascends to get to the roof. I remember being a little troubled by this stack myself the first time I was on the route. The blocks aren't attached to anything and they are just sitting there, leaning against the main wall of the cliff. But they are pretty big. I'd bet they aren't going anywhere.

Then Nani got to the roof, and her noises were not encouraging. It didn't sound like she was enjoying herself. "No way this is 5.8!" she yelled.

Then: "This is too hard! I can't do this!"

I thought she was about to fall. I knew she was capable of ascending the rope if she ended up hanging out in space. But I wanted to minimize the distance so I started pulling in the rope.

"Don't pull on me!" she screamed.

Oops, my bad, I thought. I decided just to wait. I figured she was going to be pissed off when this pitch was over. Clearly I'd put her in a situation she was not happy about.

But it turned out she'd found the rest stance in the middle of the crux. She was just taking a break. She never weighted the rope, and after she made the last few moves to the ledge she gushed that Modern Times was the "best climb ever!"

I was pleased to be there to congratulate her on the send.

I don't know if I agree about Modern Times being the best ever. There is a lot of mediocre climbing on it. But the crux is incredibly thrilling. With its spectacular position and committing moves, and all at a moderate 5.8+ grade, Modern Times is a prime example of what makes the Gunks such a special place.

I can't wait to go back to try Doubleissima again. I want the redpoint on it, badly. It is maybe a better candidate for best climb ever, to my mind. It is definitely one of the best tens in the Gunks.

(Photo: Headed for the roof of Son of Easy O (5.8).)

Another September weekend in the Gunks.

Temperatures have been falling and autumn is in the air. I think sending season may be soon upon us.

I met up with Adrian this past Sunday in the Trapps. As I drove up I decided I had one goal: I needed to get the redpoint on Directississima aka Doubleissima (5.10b). Just last week I'd come close, but had taken a brief hang at the hardest move. I knew if I approached it smartly I could get the send this time.

Apart from that one climb I had no ambitions.

We walked in and found the ever-popular Son of Easy O (5.8) open so we did it. I took the lead and ran it to the top in one pitch. It is still one of the best 5.8's. The traditional first pitch has so many great face moves. The overhang on the second pitch is a fun, if short, challenge. I've never cut my feet loose and campused it like Ashima, but hey, every problem has multiple valid solutions.

When Adrian and I both reached the top we rapped down over City Lights and found that it had become very crowded. We started walking in the general direction of Doubleissima, looking for an open climb for Adrian to lead along the way.

But almost everything was occupied. We walked past the Drunkard's wall and into the Arch area, seeing nothing available that we wanted to try.

Just then, as I walked downhill past the start of Ribless, I lost my footing somehow. It is a little steep and loose right there next to the cliff. I guess I got careless, and I fell.

My little slip quickly turned into a cartwheeling header. I found myself flying. I tumbled over several loose stones and landed maybe ten feet lower then my starting point.

I couldn't believe my own clumsiness. Lying there in the dirt, I felt humiliated but okay. It had all gone by in a blur but I didn't think I'd caught an ankle.

I sat up and said "I think I'm all right."

Adrian pointed out that I was bleeding through my pants.

I pulled up my pant leg and saw a gash in my knee that was kind of deep. I had a couple of band aids in my bag but I didn't think they were going to help very much.

I inspected the knee and it did not seem that I'd broken it. But I could tell it was going to bruise and swell a bit. I must have knocked it pretty hard on the way down. It was tender and puffy. The good news was that I was able to weight the leg and walk.

"Do you want to see a doctor?" Adrian asked.

It sounded reasonable.

But if I did that, we were never going to get on Doubleissima!

Besides, Adrian had driven all the way down to the Gunks from Montreal to climb with me. It seemed rude to abandon him just because I got a little cut on my knee. I wouldn't be able to live with myself. I decided I had to be a man about it and keep climbing. It was the selfless, generous thing to do.

You might disagree. You might think that continuing to climb was a short-sighted, stupid thing to do. But if you are of that opinion then I assure you, respectfully, that you are mistaken.

I put a band aid over the cut and wrapped some climbing tape around the knee, hoping the tape would stay in place and keep the bleeding at bay.

We resumed looking for a fun climb to do.

Before we knew it we were at the Mac Wall. I've been there a lot this year. But there were many climbs I needed to do there. I still needed to get the redpoint on Try Again (5.10b). And I'd considered Star Action (5.10b) before, but it was wet when I examined it in the spring. Today it was dry and it was open.


(Photo: A climber named Jill going for it on Try Again (5.10b).)

With all the wandering and tripping and falling and bandaging, we'd wasted substantial time already. Adrian wasn't too keen on leading Star Action, with its 5.10b roof. But we needed to climb something, so I decided to lead it.

As I got on the wall my knee seemed okay. Just as I got going on the route our friends Maryana and Beau happened to arrive. They offered moral support as I worked my way up the climb. The early going was comparatively easy, but I found the line to be pretty indistinct and the gear was kind of fiddly.

Once I reached the crux roof I had no confusion about where to go and there was good pro in a bomber horizontal. From this horizontal below the roof I could see a jug hold, way up there out of reach. The guidebook suggests a dyno to attain the jug but I could see some intermediate crimps. Maybe there was no need for a dyno. The guidebook also says that the move AFTER the big reach to the jug is the "mental crux" of the route, as you step left to an obvious corner.

I had two solid cams in the horizontal. It was steep but I could hang out there, shaking out each hand in turn. I kept reaching up to test the crimps, and I did not like them. I couldn't get myself to trust them. Up and down, up and down. Eventually I got tired and took a hang.

Then Beau shouted up to me that I should look to my left for a rest stance. I looked over and saw that I could have taken a real rest at an obvious little shelf just one move to the left! Tunnel vision and a refusal to commit got the best of me again.


(Photo: A climber on MF Direct (5.10a).)

Meanwhile my makeshift bandage was falling apart. The cut in my knee was still open and bleeding. I was getting some red blotches on the rock. This lead was turning into a mess. I needed to get on with it.

After I rested I finally went for it, using the crimps and reaching the jug, no dyno required. I think I could repeat this move any time. It is similar to, but in my opinion easier than, the roof move on Precarious Perch (5.9+).

But the next move-- the "mental crux" step left into a lieback-- is a real challenge. You have to transition from hanging off the jug to a tenuous lieback with no footholds. Your feet are just pasted to the wall, and they are above your last gear. It is a scary move. After I got the jug I tried to make the transition but once again I couldn't commit to it and climbed back down a step, taking a deliberate whipper so I could rest and reset. The fall was clean but I sailed down a ways, below the first crux roof.

Having now failed once at each of the cruxes, I finally got through it. It was a relief. Star Action is a gutsy lead, much more so than its neighbor Try Again. The gear for the crux sequence isn't that far away and the fall is clean, but you are definitely looking at a nice whip if you blow either of the two crux moves, and if you come off at the lieback it could be a weird fall.


(Photo: Happy to be past both cruxes on Star Action (5.10b).)

I don't know how soon I'll be going back for the send on Star Action. I know I can do it but that move into the lieback isn't a sure thing. I could easily fall there, and I'm not sure I want to.

Adrian did well with the first crux but then flew off at the lieback. He needed a little more work at that move before he completed the pitch. Watching the way he spun off of the rock, I was even less eager to get back up there on lead.

After I got down I wrapped my knee up again. I still felt I could continue to climb but I was starting to resemble a wounded soldier, with my ripped pants and blood stains all over. Physically I was feeling it too. The knee was stiffening and the effort I'd put in on Star Action had me feeling whipped.


(Photo: Adrian at the roof on Star Action (5.10b).)

Beau and Maryana were just finishing Still Crazy After All These Years (5.10a/b), a squeezed-in climb to our left. I was intrigued by it. I'd never seen anyone do it. The line is not obvious from the ground and I'd always been deterred from trying it because I thought it was too close to climbers on the popular Something Interesting (5.7). But the way Beau did it, the climb was a totally independent line, moving to the right after an overhang and ending at the Higher Stannard (5.9-) bolts.

This was a route right up Adrian's alley, with thoughtful face moves rather than pumpy overhangs. After getting some specific protection beta from Beau, he decided to lead it.


(Photo: Adrian heading up Still Crazy After All These Years (5.10a/b). The climber above is on Something Interesting (5.7+).)

It was an impressive on-sight for Adrian. He seemed to get gear for all of the moves up the face and then, after hesitating for a moment and testing the possible holds, he cruised through the crux move smoothly.

When I followed the pitch I was even more impressed with Adrian's lead. The climb's style resembles Higher Stannard (a route I really enjoy), but Still Crazy is more difficult and the gear is less reliable. The protection comes at spaced horizontals that are often shallow and/or pebbly. I thought some of Adrian's gear was pretty iffy and not because of any failing on his part. The cracks just aren't that great for gear. And the climbing past the questionable gear is consistently thoughtful, in the 5.8-5.9 range at least.

The brief crux sequence is really nice, and the gear here is good, though it is at your feet when you do the move.

I was happy to get Still Crazy cleanly as the second, and though my injured right knee complained a bit at the high steps it seemed like I was still able to climb.

It was now or never.

I told Adrian I wanted to lead Doubleissima.

"Really?" he said. "Okay."

We trooped on down to the High E buttress to find a party slowly working their way up the climb. This was fine with me. I wanted a good long rest before I hit Doubleissima. I relaxed and tried to think through my plan, visualizing success.


(Photo: Between the two cruxes on Doubleissima (5.10b).)

When the party ahead of us cleared the cruxes, I headed up and I'm proud to say it went down perfectly. I fired through the steep bulge off the ledge without a problem. Moving to the right and up, I could feel the fatigue coming on, but I tried not to do anything sloppy as I approached the roof, and then I managed to shake out enough to power through the overhang. After that the angle eased and I was smiling all the way to the GT Ledge.

Score one for the good guys. I could limp home with my head held high. I'd sent a hard 5.10. And such a great climb.


(Photo: Adrian finishing up the crux pitch of Doubleissima (5.10b).)

Now I was satisfied, I didn't care what else we did. We rapped back down and looked for something fun for Adrian to lead.

We settled on the 5.8 first pitch of Erect Direction. We'd both done it before. It is a juggy good time.

(Photo: Looking out on Poke-O Moonshine from the top of pitch two of Bloody Mary (5.9+). Photo by Adrian.)

A few weeks ago (as you'll surely recall!) I took a random tumble at the base of the Trapps in the Gunks, opening a gash in my knee and causing some worrisome swelling. The timing wasn't great, since I had a climbing trip planned for the Red River Gorge in early October.

Because I had so little time to waste, I went to see a few doctors. After a tetanus booster and some antibiotics I'm happy to say the knee is pretty much back to normal. I lost about a week of my usual physical activities but I feel lucky it wasn't more serious

This past weekend I got back to climbing outside. I made my second attempt of the season at climbing in the Adirondacks with Adrian. Our first attempt back in June was pretty much a washout, but this time we seemed well set for a good day. Weather wise, we had a cushion of several clear days in a row.

The plan was for Adrian and I to meet on Sunday at Poke-O Moonshine, a huge cliff close to the Northway at exit 33. I've been there twicebefore, but there is so much climbing to do at Poke-O I feel like I've barely scratched the surface of what the place has to offer.

Poke-O is just an hour and a half away from Adrian's current digs in Montreal. By contrast, it is five hours away from my home in Brooklyn. No one without a family would ever think of making the trip up there for just a single day. For people without children it wouldn't be worth it, but since I can rarely get away for a whole weekend I am occasionally willing to do a lot of driving for just one day's climbing.

Luckily, my wife and I have friends who own a place near Lake George and they offered their house to me for the night on Saturday. This made it possible for me to drive up Saturday night, crash, and then meet Adrian at the Poke-O at 8 a.m. on Sunday. It worked out well.

I had several ideas for us. I'd previously climbed some of the great Poke-O multi-pitch routes like Gamesmanship (5.8+) and Fastest Gun (5.10a). I wanted to do another full-length route up the 400 foot cliff, something new. I was thinking about The FM (5.7+ R), a historical classic which was once very popular but which isn't as frequently done these days because it features some slightly scary traverses and run outs, as well as some sections with loose rock. I wasn't too worried about these challenges. I figured we'd be very comfortable with the climbing at that grade and that we'd be able to handle whatever else this climb threw at us.

Beyond that, I was thinking about leading Bloody Mary (5.9+), a testpiece which Adrian and I had attempted three years ago but which we had abandoned about halfway through.

And I thought I might like to try a 5.10. Poke-O has several single-pitch 5.10 face/crack climbs, many of which feature bolted cruxes. I thought I should be able to handle one of these climbs. I've always felt sandbagged and intimidated when I've climbed in the Dacks, but on my last trip to Poke-O, a year ago, I'd been able to on-sight lead the 5.10 pitch three of Fastest Gun. And lately I've been attacking Gunks 5.10's with gusto. It made sense that I should at least try one with Adrian during our day together.

Sunday dawned clear and warm and as I drove up to the cliff I could see the fall colors were out in abundance. Adrian and I met at the defunct campground and walked in to the cliff. We stopped at The FM and gave it the once-over. The first pitch goes up the back of a black alcove and then exits on the right side using a layback crack. The pitch looked a little dirty and uninspiring. But the rock above pitch one looked clean and dry so I figured pitches two and three, the highlights of the climb, were going to be in fine condition. Why not try it? We racked up and got started.

I led pitch one and it was a little bit better than it looked. The pitch wanders to the top of the alcove, moving from left to right up some obvious cracks with decent gear. It isn't a long pitch (60 feet) and before you know it you are at the fun, clean exit moves out of the alcove and onto a good belay ledge.


(Photo: Adrian finishing pitch one of The FM (5.7+).)

Adrian led pitch two, the crux 5.7+ pitch, featuring a traverse that moves left and slightly down across a thin face. At the crux leftward step (known as the "Lavallee move" for the man who unlocked the sequence on the route's first free ascent), there is great gear in a vertical crack just above. Thus the leader is essentially on top rope for the crux move. The follower faces a bit of a swing at the Lavallee move, because he or she has to clean the overhead pieces of pro before making the move. But the next gear is only a few feet to the left. The fall wouldn't be terrible.


(Photo: Adrian just past the traversing on pitch two of The FM (5.7+).)

I very much enjoyed this pitch. It is a masterpiece of route finding, weaving its way left around corners and across the blank slab to easier climbing up and around to a good belay ledge. It would be a slightly nerve-racking pitch for someone whose limit is 5.7, since the pitch traverses so much and the gear, while adequate, is spaced.


(Photo: That's me at the "Lavallee move" on pitch two of The FM (5.7+).)

Pitch three is the pitch that earns the climb its R rating. The runout 5.7 crux climbing up a right-facing corner and arête comes right off the belay. But I didn't think it was so badly protected. After one or two moves I was able to reach up and blindly place a small nut behind a thin flake above the corner. It was hard to evaluate this gear until after I made the move up but it did seem pretty solid when I examined it afterwards. The climbing is good and then the rightward moves up a ramp to the belay beneath a large v-notch present a few more committing steps around corners, with much better gear.


(Photo: Here I'm just past the poorly protected starting crux on pitch three of The FM (5.7+).)

The belay station atop pitch three is kind of a mess, with one good bolt, an ancient ring piton, and a horn slung with old crusty slings, all equalized with a cordelette. I added a nut next to the piton, shoring up one of the three legs of the anchor, figuring that with my nut and the bolt we were in good shape.


(Photo: Adrian coming up the ramp on pitch three of The FM (5.7+).)

But while you can improve the anchor, you can't do anything about the loose rock laying about all around this station. As Adrian led off on pitch four, he found plenty more junky rock until he got a good ways up the v-notch. It is all pretty easy to avoid the looseness but you do have to be careful. After you dance through the loose crap, the pitch improves greatly, with some nice moves up the notch and then a bizarre feature that guidebook authors Lawyer and Haas call a "gong flake." This huge flake-- really an entire wall-- rings hollow when you pound it. It is fun climbing up it and it seems solidly attached. One hopes so anyway. Then an interesting final corner takes you to a grassy ledge with a rappel tree.


(Photo: Adrian just about through the junky rock on pitch four of The FM (5.7+).)

I thought The FM was a fun route, with adventurous situations and some fine, unique climbing. But it isn't for the new 5.7 climber, that's for sure. Both the leader and the follower should be solid in 5.7. Whichever person leads pitch one will be in for the worst of the run outs, following pitch two and leading pitch three.

I highly recommend using double ropes (as we did) because then you can rappel just twice: from the top of pitch four to the top of pitch two, and then to the ground. The belay stations atop pitches two and four are in good shape but as of this writing the station atop pitch one has good bolts but a faded, crusty cord holding it all together, and the pitch three station is an all-around disaster.

Once we got down Adrian asked me if I was ready for my big lead of Bloody Mary.

I wasn't sure about it. Intellectually I knew I could do the route but in my heart I had doubts. I remembered our first attempt at this route three years ago. I'd led the throwaway thirty-foot 5.6 first pitch and then Adrian had aborted his lead of pitch two after taking a lead fall and finding himself unsure of where to go. Following him I'd found the first half of pitch two to be unrelenting and just plain hard. A burly layback through an overhang led to tenuous, steep stemming up two opposing flakes. I felt like I could pop out of the stemming at any time and I did take one fall before reaching the point where Adrian had bailed off to the left. Above all I remembered the pitch as exhausting, and we didn't even finish it!

This time around I was planning to combine the first two pitches into one 150-foot pitch to the bolted anchor. I resolved to take it slow and make smart choices, and to milk rests whenever I could.


(Photo: That's me in the crux on Bloody Mary (5.9+).)

After I got through the traditional first pitch and looked up at the start of the crux layback I wished I had two blue No. 3 Camalots. I needed one to protect the committing step up into the layback, but after that the crack remained the same size for a few more moves. I supposed I could ask Adrian to send me up another cam (using some rope shenanigans) but ultimately I decided I could work it out with what I had. I placed my one blue Camalot as high as I could and then stepped up into the overhang. Once I got a good foothold I found I was able to drag the blue cam up a bit and reposition it to protect the next moves, so it worked out fine. One blue cam was sufficient. But if you have two you'll be in really great shape.


(Photo: Stemming it out on Bloody Mary (5.9+).)

I didn't know it yet but I'd already done the hardest part of the pitch. Looking up, I was intimidated by the stemming yet to come. I hemmed and hawed before getting on with this section. But once I actually committed it went perfectly. I remembered the stemming as so fragile and thin but this time around I found solid foot jams and holds. Decent footwork makes such a huge difference. There was never a moment where I felt I could fall. Before I knew it I was through it, stepping left onto the white face and approaching the final overhangs.

When it was all said and done I was thrilled. If you combine the first two pitches together, Bloody Mary is one hell of a single-pitch climb. There is so much great climbing on it, and the challenges are varied, ranging from laybacks to stemming to face climbing and finally to overhangs. It is one of my favorite pitches ever, anywhere. (Double ropes are again recommended, so you can get down in one rap from the bolted station atop pitch two.)


(Photo: Adrian just about done with Bloody Mary (5.9+).)

Adrian too found Bloody Mary less mysterious and challenging the second time around. It is rare that I find climbs that give me such a tangible feeling of improvement over time. It was a nice sensation.

Next we took a look at one of those bolted Poke-O tens. Just to the right of Bloody Mary is a route called Casual Observer. The overall grade is 5.11a but first pitch of this route is 5.10b and it is almost entirely bolt-protected, with some optional gear placements in a chimney near the top.


(Photo: Adrian contriving to rest on Casual Observer (P1 5.10b).)

Adrian decided to give it a whirl and it was somewhat tough going for him. He struggled at the crux thin move across the face about halfway up and then again at the roof move to escape the chimney.


(Photo: here I'm above the crux on Casual Observer (P1 5.10b).)

When it was my turn to follow I was happy to get it clean but boy, this thing was pretty tough. I felt sandbagged. I might have been a little freaked out leading this, even with the bolts. I had to hand it to Adrian that he'd led it calmly from the ground up. I thought it was technical and "in your face" from the very first step off of the deck, with thin moves up a shallow corner past the first several bolts. Then the crux traverse step was definitely another notch higher in difficulty, followed by a steep sequence to get into the chimney and still more hard moves to escape. It didn't really let up until I reached the anchor.

After Casual Observer I didn't think I'd improved quite so much any more. We'd done seven guidebook pitches and I was ready to dial it back a bit.

So we ended the day with two fantastic pitches we'd done before (albeit three years prior). I led The Sting (5.8) and Adrian led the first pitch of Gamesmanship (5.8+).

These have to be two of the very best crack climbs in the East. I upped the ante a bit by leading the 5.9 direct start to The Sting. It sort of resembles the first moves of Maria Direct (5.9) but I think The Sting Direct is a little harder, even though it only takes one or two moves (depending on your height) to reach the jug. I'll admit I stepped up and down a few times until I figured out which hold was the jug I was aiming for, and then I went for it, crimping hard and then making the big lock-off and reach.


(Photo: Past the tough start on The Sting Direct (5.9).)

After the bouldery start I loved The Sting's moves leftward on a fingery rail, and then the rest of the way was just joyful climbing up the obvious hand crack, with plentiful opportunities for feet and hands outside the crack as well.


(Photo: Adrian heading up Gamesmanship (5.8+).)

Apart from the opening moves, pitch one of Gamesmanship is the harder climb of the two. It is steeper and longer and has a bit more required pure crack climbing on it. It is such an appealing line-- it is hard to imagine walking by it without wanting to climb it. (And bring your double ropes again for the long rappel.) Adrian, crack specialist that he is, ran up the pitch in no time, and following him I felt free and casual, another contrast to three years ago, when on this same pitch I felt challenged and crack-deficient.


(Photo: This is my patented "ignore the crack" technique on display on Gamesmanship (5.8+).)

Returning to Poke-O produced one of the most enjoyable days of the year for me as a climber. In a way it was a reunion of sorts for Adrian and me. We were together here three years before, both of us having our first experiences climbing in the Adirondacks, and now here we were again, both older and wiser, enjoying some of the same climbs as on our first go 'round, our partnership still strong.

We were lucky to have beautiful weather and stunning fall colors. And to enjoy great climbs carrying a host of different challenges. I left feeling like we'd accomplished a lot, yet we'd still just begun to explore all of the many facets of Poke-O Moonshine Cliff. I can't wait to come back.

Now if only I could find a way to avoid the five hour drive back to NYC....

(Photo: Working on Primus Noctum (5.12a) at the Drive-By Crag. Photo by Adrian.)

I just got back from four days in the Red River Gorge of Kentucky.

It was my first visit to this Mecca of sport climbing, arranged by my wife Robin (in what will surely go down in history as the BEST BIRTHDAY GIFT EVER) with some help from my climbing friends Adrian and Gail.

Adrian and I were set to climb for four days, and Gail ultimately decided to join in too, coming down a day ahead of us with Max, her twenty-three year old son. Max is a strong boulderer. He competed as a youngster and came to the Red several times as a teen. But he dropped out of climbing when he went to college and only recently got back into it, though to all appearances the time off hasn't hurt. He has returned to fine form.

To get ready for my trip I tried to get more fit so I'd be able to survive on the steep overhanging routes for which the Red is famous. I went vegan (!), trained on the lead routes at the gym, and tried to get back on my bicycle for some regular cardio exercise for the first time in a while. As the trip neared I succeeded in losing a few pounds and felt like I was in better shape than I'd been in all year.

But what was it all for? What did I hope to accomplish in the Red?

Really I had no sport climbing goals or expectations.

News flash: I am not a sport climber. Trad is my thing.

When I looked through the guidebooks for the Red, the sport walls all seemed the same to me. What I noticed mostly was that I needed to climb 5.11 if I wanted to do anything more than the warm-up routes at most of the sport crags.

So my goal was to lead 5.11 sport climbs. I didn't really care whether I could send them cleanly. I just wanted to feel comfortable enough leading them that I could get the full experience of the area and have a good time.

As I reviewed the guidebooks I also noticed that for a sport climbing destination the Red sure seemed to have an awful lot of trad climbing. There were several different walls with a good selection of what appeared to be amazing climbs. I couldn't visit the Red without at least checking out some of these climbs. I knew Adrian and possibly Gail would want to hit the trad crags too.

When the time came for our visit, we found it hard just to get to Kentucky. But after a host of travel difficulties much too boring to talk about, we were all finally together at the Red on Friday afternoon, ready to climb. (Gail and Max had already begun climbing the day before.) It had rained all Thursday night and much of Friday morning but by noon it seemed like the skies were clearing and things were looking up.

Our first destination was the Drive-By Crag, a part of the climber-owned PMRP (Pendergrass-Murray Recreational Preserve). Young Max had some friends from his Philadelphia climbing gym/team at the wall so this seemed like a good place in which to start.

The PMRP contains an odd mixture of natural wonder and heavy industry. Active oil rigs are scattered about the preserve. As you walk through the peaceful woods you will often be startled to encounter the smell of oil and the whine of machines, sometimes very close to the cliffs. The Drive-By Crag in particular has an active oil rig just downhill from the cliff face, and the noise of the drilling is clearly audible at the cliff. It is sort of a microcosm of the entire gorge, in which the beauty of nature is constantly juxtaposed with ugly human creations.

Despite the oil rigs the Drive-By Crag is a gorgeous and impressive place, steep and large. My immediate impression was that the creator had devised the ideal outdoor climbing gym, with a huge sweeping curve of pocketed, steep rock set with route after route after route of hard climbing. If this was your average Red River sport crag then I could see why sport climbers love the area so very much. And I could see why gym climbers in particular are taken with the Red, since the cliffs so resemble the gym environment. But these cliffs are so much better than any gym, with their real stone and a variety of holds, textures and colors that no man-made plastic palace could ever match.


(Photo: Adrian showing the stoke. Sport climbing RULES!!)

I liked the routes. We started with a 5.10b called Slick and the 9mm, on the left end of the wall. I was surprised at how easy it was. It had some steep moments but I thought it was more like a 5.9. I had heard that the Red was a little soft but if this was a representative 5.10 then we could own this place! The 5.10b that Adrian and I had done at Poke-O Moonshine just the week before made this one seem like a joke.


(Photo: Adrian on Slick and the 9mm (5.10b) at the Drive-By Crag.)

Our feelings of invincibility were sadly short-lived. Slick and the 9mm turned out to be an anomaly. I felt like the grading was stiffer and more accurate on every other climb we did over the next four days.

Storms came and went throughout the afternoon-- we stayed completely dry under the huge wall but we could tell it was raining by the sound of it pouring down behind us. It was a strange sensation.

The crag was crowded despite the weather. Most of the easier routes were constantly occupied even though it was a weekday. I accidentally worked on my first 5.12, Primus Noctum, when I found it open and was told it was a 5.11. I got shut down by one move I couldn't figure out, which I suppose must be the crux, at the very last bolt, but it was nice to work on a 5.12 on just my second pitch of the trip. I wasn't expecting that to happen. It made me feel right at home in the Red.


(Photo: That's me just over the roof on Primus Noctum (5.12a) at the Drive-By Crag.)

Adrian worked at Spirit Fingers (5.11c) and then I tried leading it too. I was happy to get over the technical, bouldery sequence off of a scary ledge near the bottom, but then I flamed out and had to take a hang in the pumpy upper section just one move below a good rest stance near the top. Having narrowly missed the onsight I regretted not trying harder.

We finished up our Friday with a 5.10d called Fire and Brimstone. I got the onsight lead on this one and felt pretty good about it. The crux climbing through the middle of the pitch was crimpy, making for a difficult clip of the draw. Seemed like a hard ten to me.


(Photo: Adrian on Fire and Brimstone (5.10d) at the Drive-By crag.)

Leaving the Drive-By Crag I felt like we'd had fun and gotten a taste of the real Red River Gorge, though we hadn't even begun to exhaust the possibilities within our ability levels at even this one wall. I was relieved to find that I could climb in the Red. The routes were good and varied enough to discredit the widespread notion that all the climbs in the Red are steep, mindless jug hauls.

Still I knew that if we kept on climbing sport routes like these for four straight days I'd get bored.

Saturday and Sunday were expected to be sunny but cold, and rain was predicted again for Monday. Adrian and I decided to spend the next two days trad climbing. We guessed that the weekend crowds would be thinner at the trad walls, and then on Monday we could find a sport climbing location that would stay dry even if it was raining.

On Saturday Adrian and I headed to the Long Wall (a trad showcase) and had a great day. (Gail and Max went elsewhere for more sport climbing.) We got started pretty late, as the temperatures hovered in the low forties until late morning. Despite our lazy start we were just the second car parked at the tiny pullout. If you want to be alone at the Red, go trad climbing! We were the first to arrive at the marquee climbs of the area, Autumn (5.9-) and Rock Wars (5.10a).

Both of these climbs follow beautiful cracks up corners. Autumn is a hand crack/layback while Rock Wars is a fingers/tips crack that turns into an overhanging thin hands crack at the top. I thought Autumn would be good practice for me (I need to work on both hand cracks and laybacks) and it was theoretically the easier climb so I volunteered to start us off by leading it.


(Photo: I'm at the crux of Autumn (5.9-) at the Long Wall.)

I didn't exactly cruise it but I got through it unscathed. I was a little bit jittery all the way up. I found it easier most of the time to layback off the flake rather than jam it, but I had to psych myself up to shakily commit to the moves at several points along the way. Nevertheless it was a success, and what a fine route! Beautiful rock and movement. I was glad we'd pooled our gear, since this climb will take as many blue No. 3 Camalots as you care to bring up. I placed three blues and two gold No. 2 Camalots. Adrian, when he followed, often jammed one hand in the crack and layed back with the other. Seemed smart to me. I might have felt more secure if I'd done it his way. He made it look very easy indeed.


(Photo: Adrian on Autumn (5.9-) at the Long Wall.)

Next Adrian led Rock Wars and after the straightforward stemming section at the bottom the moves up the thin crack looked tough. Then the steeply overhanging hand crack bit to the anchor looked even tougher. I got it done as the second without any falls but of course it would be a bigger challenge to do the last part while also placing the gear. It is very steep. This is a pretty solid 5.10a, in my humble opinion, and another beautiful pitch.

(Photo: Adrian on Rock Wars (5.10a).)

I led a really nice 5.9+ called Cruise Control which is right where the approach trail meets the Long Wall. This is another quality pitch with steep moves up a few corners, around some small overhangs, and then a fun finish up a crack/flake system. And then I also led a sport route at the left end called Boom! Boom! Out Go The Lights (5.10b), which presents some overhanging, crimpy reaches past a bulge close to the ground and then finishes with technical moves up a slab. It was interesting. I liked having some sport climbs intermixed with the trad routes. It is totally alien to me as a Gunkie, but I found that running up a moderate sport route is a really nice way to take a mental break after a solid trad pitch.


(Photo: Adrian getting started on Cruise Control (5.9+) at the Long Wall.)

Adrian finished our day with a trad pitch called Mailbox (5.8), which features an easy low-angled off-width crack and then a sandbagged, steep finger crack to the finish. It is a really cool pitch, but I wonder if the quite straightforward wide bit scares many people off.


(Photo: Adrian crammed into the off-width on Mailbox (5.8) at the Long Wall.)

We both loved the Long Wall and we didn't even have time to explore the entire right side of the cliff. I'd be happy to go back.

On Sunday we had a similarly nice day trad climbing at the Fortress Wall. Gail and Max came along too and shared some of the routes with us. I didn't think the climbing at the Fortress Wall was quite as consistently stellar as at the Long Wall. The routes can be overly sandy and sometimes the rock feels unpleasantly sharp.


(Photo: Adrian on Bombs Bursting (5.8) at the Fortress Wall.)

We mostly did moderates like Bombs Bursting (a tough 5.8, with mandatory hand jamming and a committing finger crack crux) and Blue Runner (5.9- and similar to Cruise Control, with steep climbing down low and technical layback moves above). Adrian led both of these, plus a pretty easy but entertaining 5.8 called Snake, which slithers up an off-width for one or two moves before transitioning to a moderate hand crack with tons of features outside the crack.


(Photo: Here I'm following Adrian's lead of Blue Runner (5.9-) at the Fortress Wall, with Gail and Max below.)

I enjoyed leading Calypso I, a fun 5.7 flake climb.


(Photo: That's me leading Calypso I (5.7) at the Fortress Wall.)

My big lead of the day was Where Lizards Dare (5.9+), a beautiful and imposing finger crack up an overhanging corner which starts a pitch up off of the ground. I took us up Calypso III (5.5 off-width, very sandy) to get up to the ledge above. Then I plunged into Where Lizards Dare and found it pretty technical and sustained. The hardest single move involves stepping up into the dihedral where the crack begins. The crack at this point is too thin for fingers and the available face holds are high slopers. I took a long time and placed more and more gear (bomber nuts!) before finally committing to this move and making it into the crack. But then the route continued to be challenging and I got flustered. Eventually I had to hang to get my head together.


(Photo: I'm leading Where Lizards Dare (5.9+) at the Fortress Wall.)

The pitch eased up a little bit as the crack got wide enough for fingers and when I finished it I wished I could come back the next day to lead it again and do a better job. To me this was perhaps the best pitch of the trip. It rivals Rock Wars for quality and difficulty, though Rock Wars is longer.


(Photo: Gail on Calypso III (5.5) at the Fortress Wall. Photo by Adrian.)

I also enjoyed leading a chimney/off-width climb on the right side of the Fortress crag called Cussin' Crack (5.7). I thought it was pleasant and very moderate climbing up the wide chimney off of the ground (it was a great excuse to use our No. 4 Camalots), but then after reaching a ledge (where I thought I was all but done) I found a surprise squeeze chimney finish, invisible from the ground, which turned out to be the crux. This climb obviously doesn't see that much traffic. It was a bit dirty, with sharp edges, but I still found it to be a lot of fun.

As predicted, it poured all Sunday night and into Monday morning. Gail and Max were exhausted and decided to head back to Lexington to try to catch an early flight. I hoped Adrian and I could do a day of sport climbing at another one of these sheltered, overhanging walls. Adrian was feeling pretty whipped but he was game to go for it for one more day.

We went to the Military Wall, which Gail and Max had enjoyed on Thursday and which the guidebook said was a good rainy day crag. We walked up during a break in the storms and found the climbs to be pretty much completely dry even though it had been raining steadily for hours. Another thunderstorm rolled through just as we were beginning to climb but it didn't really matter to us since we were already beneath the wall.


(Photo: Adrian on Sunshine (5.9+) at the Military Wall.)

It seemed to me that the Military Wall (one of the more mature sport crags in the Red) had a mix of the best and the worst of the sport climbing scene. We did the warm-up routes Sunshine (5.9+) and Moonbeam (5.9). These are overhanging jug hauls made more difficult by the fact that they are so greasy and chalky from the thousands of ascents they have seen over the years. Standing there on a rainy Monday, we had no trouble getting access to them, but the chalk told the story of many many crowded weekends. It was like being in a gym where the climbs are never changed. I felt similarly put off by the supposed classic Fuzzy Undercling (5.11-). The start is so slimy and white with caked-on chalk, it is just gross. Also impossible. It is gross and impossible, a lethal combination.


(Photo: I'm about to start Another Doug Reed Route (5.11b) at the Military Wall.)

My mood improved when we walked left to the far end of the Military Wall, where we found ourselves beneath a spectacular overhanging face that is covered in swirling black lines made of iron oxide. Behind these bands of iron oxide, the wall is a gorgeous mixture of reds, oranges and yellows. It is like a kaleidoscopic work of art. We looked at the two routes on this wall, and when I stepped up to try the one on the left, Another Doug Reed Route (5.11b), I was tickled to find that the thin black iron oxide bands formed awesome crimps and pinches. The route had some tough, long reaches from the first to the third bolts but I got by this crux section okay and then managed to climb through the pumpy remaining terrain for an actual bona fide 5.11b onsight.


(Photo: Adrian on Another Doug Reed Route (5.11b).)

I later read on the internet that if you move further right after the second bolt everyone thinks this is really a 5.10. But I didn't move to the right, so I guess I did it the hard way. And the guidebook calls the route a 5.11b so who am I to question it? I am officially a 5.11b sport climber, there is simply no denying it.

Right after this historic achievement I tried the 5.11d/5.12b next door, Forearm Follies, and got shut down hard. I didn't make it very far. I had to leave a bail biner after just a few bolts.


(Photo: Adrian leading Possum Lips (5.10d) at the Military Wall.)

We enjoyed two other routes at the Military Wall. Adrian and I both took a turn at leading Possum Lips (5.10d), a slab route with some thin, technical moves. Nothing pumpy about this one but it definitely requires finesse and good footwork. I was psyched to get the onsight.

And finally, we liked another less-popular route to the right, next to the archaeological closure: Danita Dolores (5.10b). The start over a low roof is described in the guidebook as "desperate." But I found it pretty doable. I campused up a few holds, got my feet on the wall, and cruised through the fun climbing up an arête.


(Photo: I'm almost to the anchor on Danita Dolores (5.10b) at the Military Wall.)

As we left the Military Wall and headed to the airport, I felt that we'd done a bunch of wonderful climbs in the Red and had a great experience. But the time had flown by and ultimately we'd barely dipped our toe into the metaphorical sea of climbing that was available.

We'd gotten just a small taste of the sport climbing life in the Red. We did some of the pumpy jug hauls for which the place is well-known, but really just a few. I liked these climbs. I would come back and do them again. If I devoted all of my energies to these sorts of routes I'd probably improve at them. But for now, doing just a few in any one day was enough for me.

I was pleased to see that, counter to the Red's reputation, there are other types of sport routes available. In our random sampling of the sport climbing in the Red we'd stumbled upon slabby routes, crimpy faces, and technical aretes. I really enjoyed these sorts of routes. I would love to come again to seek out the walls that are filled with these less pumpy, more technical routes..

As you might expect, I was happiest with the trad climbing we did. I don't think the Red's collection of trad routes is exactly world class, but what they have is certainly much more than you can do in a few days and is so different from what we have in the Gunks that it feels like a real treat. The Gunks just doesn't feature crack routes. Fingers, hands, fists, and off-width cracks-- the Red has them all, and on beautiful cliffs in secluded settings.

Over the course of our visit numerous people expressed shock and dismay that Adrian and I were spending half of our time in the Red trad climbing. But I'm glad we split the trip up the way we did. There was no way we'd get more than a small sample of what this massive area has to offer in one visit anyhow. I was pleased to get as many different little tastes of what was available as we could.

And anyway I don't think that a pure sport climbing trip would ever do it for me. I've previously written about my preference for trad over sport and I don't want to belabor the point again here.

But there were times during our trip when I could see the other side of the argument. At the Military Wall there was a young man trying like crazy to get the redpoint on a particular 5.12. While we were there he took four burns on the route, succeeding on the last try. When he finally nailed it his exhilaration was contagious. I was thrilled for him, and I was pretty impressed that he was able to reset, recharge and go after the route again and again the way he did. I don't think in my current state of fitness I could be so fresh on my fourth try at such a steep route. If I put in the effort and focused on this type of climbing I know I could have successes like that, and I'd probably be a stronger trad climber as a byproduct as well. It would be good for me.

But the trade-off would be doing less of the kind of climbing I love the most, so I probably won't.

It's one of the wonderful things about climbing: there are no rules. You get to set your own goals and choose your own level of adventure, taking your motivation from whatever source you like. Your path will be different from mine, and that's just fine.

(Photo: Some stone age Romeo, sneaking up on Nosedive (5.10b) like a smooth criminal.)

Several months ago Gail and I hatched a most bodacious idea: we would go to the Gunks dressed as climbers from the 1980's.

Gail already had some electric blue tights, which sounded perfect. I would need to buy some tights of my own, but I didn't think it would be too hard for me to find some totally gnarly, loud leggings. Then I could throw on a tank top and a headband and we'd be all set! Hilarity would ensue.

It seemed like great fun, but we never did anything with the idea.

Until last week.We were set to meet up to climb on Saturday and on a whim I asked Gail if we should go for it and declare it to be Eighties Day in the Gunks.

With Halloween just around the corner it seemed like good timing.

And besides, the 80's are percolating up again. (Don't call it a comeback!) Current pop sensation Taylor Swift has a new album out entitled 1989 (though when I listen to the lead single I can't say I understand the 80's connection). And 80's superstars Morrissey and Billy Idol have recently published memoirs.

I figure if Billy Idol can show his face in public then so can a man in tights.

Gail was very enthusiastic about the plan so we decided to Just Do It.

I only had a few days in which to get ready. I bought some bitchin' striped tights and a tank top/headband combo that matched... or sort of matched, anyway. I was ready to go. But then I decided this wasn't enough. We needed to think bigger, to get greedy. Greed is good, they say.

If we were climbing in 80's clothing, shouldn't we also climb with 80's gear?

It didn't seem right to carry around a bunch of dyneema slings and modern cams. Thinking it over, I realized that practically every piece of climbing equipment I owned was in some way inappropriate to the 80's costume: the shoes, the carabiners, the slings, perhaps even the harness and chalk bag? Should Gail and I be using a bunch of hexes and tying in with swami belts if we were going to be true to the spirit of our little project?

It is a weird science, trying to approximate the technology of an earlier era, only to take it back to the future. And if we were really serious about authenticity it could get expensive. It could take plenty of money-- to do it right, child.

I did some internet research and found out what was in use in the 80's and what was not. As the maker of rules (dealing with fools), I declared certain guidelines for our day.

Harnesses and chalk bags, it turned out, were in use in the 80's. Sticky rubber was also okay. Nuts and Tricams were fine.

Dyneema slings and wire-gate carabiners were out. And all of the cams I usually carry were also out. Aliens and third generation Camalots were not around in the 80's.

What to do? We had to be careful. We didn't want our little lark to turn into a dead man's party. I'm only human, after all, born to make mistakes, and we all know that accidents will happen. I couldn't assume that I'd never fall, and I needed to have enough gear with which to protect whatever climbs I led.

My rack was saved by the Metolius catalog from 1988, which revealed that TCU's (then called "3-Cams") were introduced in the mid-80's. Hallelujah! I own a set of TCU's, from purple through red. If I could use them I had a pretty reasonable 80's rack, with my nuts, Tricams and TCU's. I just needed a few larger pieces. Gail was able to add a few rigid-stemmed Friends, an ancient U-stem Hugh Banner cam that appeared to match those available in the 80's, and a couple of other U-stem cams of uncertain vintage.


(Photo: One town's very like another when your head's down over your pieces, brother! Here were some of the larger pieces in my 80's rack.)

Gail's costume was spot-on. In her electric blue tights and pink top she looked like she'd stepped right out of a Jane Fonda workout tape. Of course no woman in tights could ever look quite as ridiculous as a man in tights. Gail did plan to trump me in one area: her tube socks. I was wearing tube socks too (for the hike in), but unlike me Gail planned to climb in hers! It was a very 80's thing to do but I couldn't imagine wearing thick socks inside of my climbing shoes.


(Photo: They're heeeeeeere! Gail and I are ready to rock in the Uberfall in our full 80's splendor.)

When we arrived at the cliff we headed straight for the Uberfall. This was a Saturday in high season, and we expected to find crowds. Ordinarily this would be a bad thing but today we needed an audience.

As we walked in I could feel the eyes of other climbers upon us. We didn't get any immediate comments but I could sense the occasional double-take.

We parked ourselves beneath Apoplexy (5.9), right on the carriage road, in the middle of the action. I got racked up with our 80's gear and looked up at the potential placements. It seemed like I had everything I needed. I was a little bit chilly in my tank top but I had my headband to keep me warm!


(Photo: Animals strike curious poses... I'm getting set to lead Apoplexy (5.9), 80's style.)

As I got ready to go we chatted a bit with the climber to our left, who was belaying his partner on Horseman (5.5). He spoke with us as if nothing was the slightest bit unusual, and for a while I wondered if he had even noticed our completely outrageous appearance. But then as I was about to step up onto the route he turned to me, completely deadpan, and said:

"You look fantastic, by the way."

"Thanks!" I said, and I was off.

The 80's rack proved to be perfectly adequate for Apoplexy. The nylon slings and the old oval biners were the only problem. The slings and biners felt fat; I was clumsy handling them.


(Photo: Totally tubular! Gail has her tube socks on display on Apoplexy (5.9).)

The climbing felt super casual. I might even go so far as to suggest it felt like poetry in motion... the elements in harmony. Maybe the tights deserve some credit. It is easy to be flexible in tights!

But it's more likely that my vegan diet is paying off. I've lost a dozen pounds since Labor Day. I feel light and fit. I'm still trying new recipes, attempting to keep it interesting and to eat real foods that also taste good. For now I think it is a healthy development. If I start to lapse into eating nothing but potato chips then it might be less healthy. But that is unlikely, as I am generally avoiding junk food. I don't want to buy anything sold or processed, or process anything sold, bought or processed. I just want to stay natural. And maybe I'm coming around to the view that meat is murder...

I'll probably go back, one of these days, at least to animal products, if not to meat.

I know what you're thinking: you don't drink, you don't smoke, what do you do? But I assure you I have the same desires as everyone else. I want tasty food. I want candy. For now I am satisfied with the vegan food I eat. I am making delicious things. I'm sure eventually I will get sick of it. My wife, Morgan Fairchild, is already quite sick of my veganism even though it has nothing to do with her! So I don't know how long it will last.

After we were done with Apoplexy I saw that Nosedive (5.10b) was open so we moved over there. I led this one with the 80's rack again and I felt much more comfortable with the gear the second time around. Again the climbing felt very straightforward. Hmmmmmm, could it be...... Satan? (Or perhaps seitan?) Maybe it was all due to the tights after all.


(Photo: Gail at the crux on Nosedive (5.10b).)

Then Gail led Retribution (5.10b), which I was psyched to witness. Gail has been working hard on getting out there and leading tougher trad climbs so it was great to see her going for it on a solid 5.10. Retribution has very good gear and a short crux (which I've seen Gail cruise more than once before), but the 5.10 move is a challenge no matter how many times you've done it so leading it is very impressive.


(Photo: The roof, the roof, the roof is on fire! Gail at the ceiling on Retribution (5.10b).)

Retribution felt really casual to me too-- I guess I'll have to keep wearing tights. I was cruising.


(Photo: I'll have what she's having! Gail is psyched to have led Retribution (5.10b).)

By now we'd been in the Uberfall area for a few hours and we'd attracted a certain amount of attention. Our outfits were a constant source of amusement. Some people just stared, some pointed and laughed, and I was later told one climber ran over and took some photos of me while I was leading Apoplexy. (If you're out there, Mr. Photographer, I am happy to receive copies.)

I was surprised by the conversations I had with some of the older climbers. I was previously unaware that there are men out there who are nostalgic for tights. But such men do exist. There was more than one climber who described with fondness the multicolored tights he used to wear, proudly, back in the day. The story usually ended with the tights being mothballed and then thrown away (or burned) by the climber's wife.

Another climber asked me where I'd acquired my striped pants and when I told him the answer (American Apparel), he asked, dumbfounded, "so they sell those for ordinary people to wear, like, not as a joke?"

I suppose they do.

We ran into someone I know, the dad of one of my son's friends in elementary school. He was a big-time Gunkie back when he was younger, but he fell out of it while his kids were little, only recently returning to the climbing game. On Saturday he was in the Gunks with a group and when they first looked over at us he wondered to his friends, "Is that guy serious?" Then he realized who I was and said, "I know that guy!" He came over to make sure I was NOT serious, and then-- like all the other old-timers-- told me with pride about the climbing tights he used to wear. His had little fluorescent lizards all over them.

Just before we left the Uberfall area one climber said to me, "Okay, so the 80's, I get it... but, why?"

I could only answer his question with another question: "Why the hell not?"

It was time to move on. We decided to head on down to the Seasons area. I was considering leading The Winter (5.10d) and Gail wanted to check out Bold-Ville (5.8). We kept the costumes on but went back to our usual rack, including Camalots and Aliens and skinny slings.


(Photo: No one puts Gail in a corner-- except in the Gunks. Here she's on The Nose/Fillipina (5.9-).)

Our chosen climbs were occupied so I decided to lead The Nose/Fillipina (5.9-), a climb I'd done once before in 2011. I remembered that the roof problem at the end of the pitch was really exciting, and it did not disappoint on Saturday. Under the roof there is a very committing move to the right to a finger-sized horizontal. The feet drop away to nothing and you can't see how you're going to surmount the big overhang. It is a thriller. You try to scream, but terror takes the sound before you make it-- and then you just suck it up and make the move and it's all there.


(Photo: Dancing on the ceiling-- Gail at the Fillipina (5.9-) roof.)

Gail then led pitch one of Bold-ville (5.8) and did a great job. (She's got legs; she knows how to use them.) Bold-ville is a favorite of mine; I've done it several times. It is very continuous, with lots of quality moves. Steep reaches past an overhang at the outset lead to some technical moves up a curving corner. There is bomber gear all the way.


(Photo: Sitting pretty in pink. Gail at the initial overhang on Bold-ville (5.8).)

As I belayed Gail on Bold-ville I'd all but forgotten Eighties Day but just then a pair of climbers walked up and one of them said, "I'd like to congratulate you on wearing the best pants I've seen at the crag today." It was nice.

Next I started up The Winter (5.10d) but I got into trouble right from the start. I had a hard time with the politics of dancing up the initial slot. It was a shock after feeling so strong for so much of the day. The route was a little bit seepy and slimy and after I placed one piece, the next move up felt awkward and insecure on lead. I wanted another gear placement before moving up again but I couldn't find one and, fearing a ground fall, I eventually decided it wasn't worth it and climbed back down.

What a mess on the ladder of success. Looking at the photos, I think I would have been fine for one more move. I guess I should go back and try it again. I may have just been caught up in a whirlwind, and my ever-changing moods.


(Photo: Should I stay or should I go? Feeling uncertain on a wet Winter (5.10d).)

After I down-climbed off of The Winter we moved over to the right a bit and did the first pitch of Shit Creek (allegedly 5.6). Many years ago I had an epic on this pitch with my friend Greg. Back then I got up to the second roof, decided there was no way it could really be 5.6, and escaped up a blocky corner to the right. I ended up getting one of my double ropes stuck in the blocky corner and spent hours sorting it all out.


(Photo: Gail at the second roof on Shit Creek (P1 5.6).)

On Saturday, with Gail, I did the route the modern way, going directly over the second roof and then climbing up steep rock to the pumpy hand traverse to the finish. It is a high quality pitch with a ton of climbing on it, and three good cruxes. But I wouldn't put a 5.6 leader on this pitch. It felt stiff for 5.6 to me and the gear is not great. The pin at the second roof is old and there is no way to back it up. There is sparse gear for the face-climbing above and then after the final (well-protected) hand traverse, there is a lot of loose rock for the final twenty feet or so. I would probably do Shit Creek again if there were nothing else available, but if I'm there on an uncrowded day I'll be tempted by the route of another. Blistered Toe (5.7+), for example, is a better nearby alternative.

By the time we were done with Shit Creek the sun was setting. But I still wanted to climb a little more. "Don't dream it's over," I said to Gail. We still had time to run up the short 5.9 first pitch of The Spring in the fading light.


(Photo: The corner climbing on The Spring (P1 5.9) requires you to put a little boogie in your butt.)

We walked out in the dark. I put on my headlamp but apparently my leggings had some florescent properties. As I crossed the parking lot to my car I heard a final call from a stranger behind me:

"NICE PANTS!"

This was not a day on which I achieved much of anything but Gail and I had a fantastic time. I've been smiling about it all week. It was like a little party all day long. If it's true that the best climber is the one having the most fun, then Gail and I were the best climbers at the Gunks last Saturday, by far. And it was great to see Gail leading so strong too.

It sure seemed like there was a lot of nostalgia for tights around the cliffs. Maybe they'll make a comeback and we can all proudly wear tights while rock climbing again. Wouldn't that be something?

(Photo: That's me on the traverse from Blistered Toe over to Torture Garden.)

I'm feeling good lately. Have I mentioned that I've lost some weight? It makes a big difference.

In the gym I can really tell, and on routes within my comfort zone at the Gunks I've felt noticibly lighter, free and easy.

But feeling good is just part of the climbing equation. You can lose all the weight you like, but if you are mentally unprepared to deal with the challenge of a particular climb you still won't succeed. I saw this on my Eighties Day in the Gunks with Gail, when after feeling so strong all day I didn't feel comfortable just a few moves off of the ground on pitch one of The Winter, and the awkward climbing, slimy rock, and the lack of an immediate gear placement made me back off of a move that I've previously raced up on top rope without a second thought.

This past weekend with Adrian it happened again. I wanted to go back to The Winter to give it another try. I was also interested in the second pitches of both The Winter and The Spring. They are both 5.10's but very different. The second pitch of The Spring is on the left above the first pitch of The Winter, and it features a huge 5.10d roof. The second pitch of The Winter is on the right and ascends a 5.9 corner and then finishes with a 5.10d move up a blank face.

Adrian started us off by leading the first pitch of The Spring (5.9). It was an easy onsight for him. He was clearly feeling pretty good. He'd been able to get the redpoint of Simple Suff (5.10a) the day before. Simple Suff is one of those tens I still need to go back and get the send on. It is sustained and tricky. I really should try it again before this year is out.


(Photo: Adrian on Simple Suff (5.10a). Photo by Maryana.)

I felt fine following Adrian on The Spring. I've done this first pitch several times-- I'd led it most recently one week before-- so it felt very casual for me.


(Photo: Following the 5.9 pitch one of The Spring.)

When I joined Adrian at the chains I decided to give pitch two of The Winter a try. This is the one on the right, directly above pitch one of The Spring.


(Photo: Starting up the interesting 5.9 corner on pitch two of The Winter (5.10d).)

I had no issues negotiating the leaning, left-facing corner that begins the pitch. There is a 5.9 move in there near the top of the corner but nothing too serious. But when I got up to the 5.10 part of the pitch I didn't like what I saw. I made a steep move up to a horizontal slot that would take gear, and then stopped dead and confronted a blank face above it. It looked like a tough boulder problem, requiring the use of a sloping sidepull to high-step and reach way way up to a hold above the blank face, with the gear at your feet.

I kept stepping up and down, trying and failing to commit to the move, adjusting my crux gear, and then doing it all over again. Eventually I decided I didn't feel good about it and bailed off to the right to finish on Shit Creek (5.6), another climb I did with Gail the previous week.


(Photo: Adrian waving from the crux hand traverse on Shit Creek (5.6).)

Now I had achieved the dubious distinction of backing off of both pitches of The Winter on different days. I should have looked a little more carefully at the guidebook. When I read the description later I realized that I was staring at the harder variation, which Dick Williams lists in his main entry for the route as 5.10d. I failed to consider an easier way just a couple of steps to the left, which Dick lists as a 5.10b variation, but which I think is actually the original route.

I don't know whether I would have felt any better about the variation to the left. Maybe I would have at least gone for it if I'd seriously considered it. But since I didn't try I will have to put this on the long list of climbs I need to go back to. At any rate the first part of the pitch is quite nice, and the steep traverse into the sandbag 5.6 crux of Shit Creek is a fun way to finish if you wuss out as I did.

After we got back down I told Adrian I thought it might be fun to do something new and adventurous. I proposed we do a combination of three climbs, which Dick calls a three-star link-up in his guidebook: pitch one of Blistered Toe (5.7+ or 5.9+ Direct), into pitch two of Torture Garden (5.8 PG/R), into pitch three of Yellow Crack (5.6). I'd done Blistered Toe a few times but Adrian had never been on it, and the two upper pitches were a mystery to both of us.


 (Photo: Adrian past the tough start of Blistered Toe Direct (5.9+).)

Adrian managed to sketch his way through the the direct start of Blistered Toe (5.9+), so he was really climbing well. This opening has a couple of really tough moves up a small overhang and corner and then it's all over. The difficulties are brief but I think the moves require some specific beta so it is a hard onsight. The first time I tried it, years ago, I couldn't figure it out at all.

The rest of the 5.7+ first pitch of Blistered Toe is very very good, with steep climbing up a thin crack. There is ample gear and a host of good moves. Following Dick's advice for the link-up, Adrian continued past the usual end of the Blistered Toe pitch, moving up another ten feet and then traversing to the right about twenty-five feet or so, until he found a small stance with two pins which marked the intersection with Torture Garden.


(Photo: Adrian at the belay stance on Torture Garden (5.8).)

I led Torture Garden and it was not bad, I guess. It was pretty dirty/licheny. I liked the crux moves up a little nose of rock not far off the belay and the crimpy 5.7 climbing up a headwall at the end of the pitch.


(Photo: Just under the crux on Torture Garden (5.8), looking for decent gear.)

So the climbing was okay. But I thought the pro was worse than Dick suggested, even with his PG/R rating. For the crux move there is a little crack not too far below. I couldn't get a nut to work. I managed to get a cam, but the pocket was shallow. If this placement wasn't any good then a fall at the crux would have been a pretty bad idea. Up above at the finishing headwall I couldn't find any gear for the hard moves. The last pro I had was below the action, in a hollow flake. The climbing was all pretty casual so I wasn't concerned. I wouldn't do this pitch again.


(Photo: Adrian at the crux move on Torture Garden (5.8).)

There was a huge flock of vultures hanging out on the GT Ledge between Torture Garden and Yellow Crack. I counted at least ten of them milling about. They seemed completely unconcerned about me while I belayed Adrian up to the ledge. I wondered whether we should continue with our plan. I wasn't too worried about a vulture attack but I didn't want to disturb them and it looked like we'd be tip-toeing through a substantial amount of bird shit if we wanted to move over to do the third pitch of Yellow Crack.


(Photo: Adrian past the bird poop and ready to belay the third pitch of Yellow Crack (5.6), with Skytop in the distance.)

The birds must have known of our plan because they politely decided to clear out just as we were deciding whether to go ahead with it. When they all flew away, Adrian waded through the guano and over to the pedestal beneath our pitch.


(Photo: Starting up pitch three of Yellow Crack (5.6).)

Once I joined Adrian my end of the rope was on top again so I just led the pitch. It turned out to be awesome, with beautiful 5.6 climbing up a long flake system. The going is steep and the holds and gear are great. This pitch made the whole adventure worthwhile. Next time instead of Torture Garden I might take Blistered Toe pitch two (a 5.5 pitch that isn't bad, though it has some loose rock) to get to it, or maybe the long traverse of Oblique Tweak, which I haven't tried.