(Photo: Working up the corner on BB Route (5.8+).)

We've had a colder than average November this year. We are told this is the result of what the meteorologists call the Polar Vortex. But I like to think of it instead as the Arctic Char. Mostly I use this term because I think it's funny (though my wife Robin has assured me repeatedly that it is not). I also prefer the term because, while I am ignorant of the actual workings of weather systems and the term Polar Vortex means nothing to me, the term Arctic Char, by contrast, provides me with a comforting mental image that helps to make sense of the world around us. I imagine the Arctic Char as a huge, spectral weather fish, hanging in space above our flat planet. The Arctic Char's whims are impossible for mortals like us to understand. But when the weather turns colder than average, we know that, for whatever reason, the Arctic Char has decided to swim over and pay our region a visit.

I, for one, welcome the Arctic Char.

Each autumn, as the season winds down, I tend to get very jealous of the the remaining climbing days. Every day that features a high above forty degrees might be the last such day of the season and whenever such a day rolls around and I can't go climbing I die a little inside. This year has been no different, but the presence of the Arctic Char has lent an air of extra desperation to my typically obsessive reloads of the New Paltz weather forecast. Despite the cold temperatures there have been some good days this November.

Early in the month I got out on a Sunday with a new partner named Andy. I met Andy at the Cliffs at Long Island City. Andy is a 5.12 sport climber and sometime trad leader who recently moved to NYC. His outdoor experience has come mostly out west, in Utah, Colorado and Idaho, though he has also spent some significant quality time in the Red River Gorge. When I met him he had never been to the Gunks so I made it my mission to introduce him to the area.


(Photo: Andy working the thin footholds on the traverse of Pas De Deux (5.8).)

We had a great day outside together. I led almost everything so that Andy could get a feel for the unique Gunks style. It turned out that the style suited him just fine. We didn't do anything that was new for me; I wanted to show him some of my favorites. I ushered him up Son of Easy O (5.8) and Pas De Deux (5.8) and then we headed down to the Mac Wall, where we spent the rest of our day.

I was pleased to finally get the elusive redpoint on Try Again (5.10b). I was feeling good. Andy made it look so easy as the second. Then Andy went to pull our rope and made a mistake: he got it stuck. He'd forgotten to untie the safety knot he'd put in the end of the rope.


(Photo: Andy following my lead of Try Again (5.10b).)

This wasn't a crisis-- it just meant that one of us would need to lead something on the other end of the rope to get up to the knot and release it. This was my chance to step up and lead Men at Arms (5.10b) or Coexistence (5.10d), both of which finish at the same anchor as Try Again. I considered these options for a split second but then Andy immediately volunteered to lead Try Again, which sounded like a fine idea to me! He cruised it on the sharp end. I thought it was pretty impressive. Even if you've just followed it, Try Again is rather stout choice for your very first Gunks lead.


(Photo: Andy taking over the lead to try Try Again (5.10b) again.)

When Andy's lead was done I somehow managed to snag a rope end AGAIN as I pulled the rope from the bolted anchor, meaning that once more I had to try Try Again AGAIN, at least partially. This has to be most appropriately named climb in the Gunks! It was turning into quite the farce. But once I scrambled up the initial easy pedestal I got the rope loose and was able to downclimb back to the ground, after which we were finally done with Try Again. We finished our day romping up MF (5.9) and Birdie Party (pitch one 5.8+).

The following weekend I wasn't able to go climbing, so I was not in the Gunks when a horrific accident claimed the life of a Chilean climber named Heidi.

I never met her but from all the accounts I've heard she was a great climber and person, strong and capable. At the time of her accident she was roped up but had placed no gear while leading the first 5.8 pitch of the Yellow Wall (5.11c). This is a common practice on this particular route. Strong climbers frequently solo the first sixty feet of this climb so that the entire route can be done in one long pitch without too much rope drag.

Heidi somehow slipped from about 30 feet up, with no gear in place, and fell to the ground. She was wearing a helmet but the impact must have been terrible. She never regained consciousness.

The climbing threads about this accident have for the most part lacked the usual chatter from the peanut gallery about how the tragedy could/should have been avoided.

For me this is a tough accident to deal with precisely because I too have no magic prescription to offer. Heidi was thirty feet up with no gear, which obviously is a situation I would advise most climbers to avoid. From such a height a death fall is obviously a possibility.

But Heidi was clearly a climber who was capable of soloing 5.8 under normal circumstances. She had previewed the route the previous week and had had no issues. She had made an informed decision as to how to proceed and felt that her chance of falling during the early potion of the route was close to zero. And she was probably right-- the chance was close to zero. But it wasn't zero.

It would be easy to look at this accident and say "I don't solo 60-foot pitches of 5.8 so this won't happen to me."

And it is true: I don't. Maybe you don't either.

But I know that even if I don't solo, I sometimes take risks similar to Heidi's, and maybe you do too. I climb through territory where a fall might be just as bad as Heidi's, but I consider the territory easy enough that such a fall seems extremely unlikely. I can think of climbs on which I have taken such risks this year: on Proctor Silex (5.9+), on Torture Garden (5.8), and on Deep Lichen (5.8), just to name a few. I'm sure there are other examples where I have been run out and a false move could have led to a very bad situation. If we are honest with ourselves as climbers, I'm sure most of us have been in such situations frequently.

So far I haven't paid any price for these risks but poor Heidi's accident is a reminder of just how high the cost of a wrong judgment call in such a situation can be.

A friend of Heidi's named cjkalman published a blog post called Focusing In On Death in which he wrestled with this same issue. He wrote about soloing and fatalities in the mountains and gave some advice:

Anything can kill you out there – a plane ride, a drive to the office, cancer, heart attack, etc.  I don’t think the point is to go through life petrified of the unknown – in constant terror at the concept of one’s own demise.  I don’t think the point is to quit climbing because it kills.  For myself, and for others who I am close to, climbing is a big part of what makes life so wonderful.

But perhaps the point is to turn it down a notch.  No matter what you are doing, go a touch slower, be a touch more cautious.  None of us is infallible.  None of us is invincible.  And you don’t have to fall far to fall all the way.  When we are climbing, it is incumbent upon us to take an extra step of precaution that at the time will often seem superfluous. 

There is wisdom in his words, and I think the challenge for moderate climbers like me (and perhaps you too) is to realize that this advice applies to us even if we aren't climbing superstars. We may not be soloing or climbing such radical routes as the one that tragically killed Heidi, but we are still engaged in the same game and taking similar risks. Our 5.5 runout might be the same risk for us, statistically speaking, as Heidi's 5.8 solo was for her. The chance of a fall may seem impossibly small but the chance is real. And the consequences of a mistake can be just as severe no matter how easy the terrain is.

Heidi's accident has haunted me. I climbed in the Gunks with Gail during the following weekend and I had a lot of trouble sleeping the night before we were to meet up. Gail had just come back from a long business trip to Asia, so she was far worse off than me-- she was utterly exhausted. I still had that end-of-the-season desperation to get out and climb but I wasn't really feeling like beating the world. I didn't push to hit any projects at my limit.


(Photo: Gail at the crux of Lower Eaves (5.9).)

We ended up sticking to the greater Uberfall area and we did a bunch of climbs that were new for me. Gail had done them all at least once-- she's done practically everything!

We had a nice easy day. I liked almost everything we did:

Lower Eaves (5.9): This climb has a good crux right off of the starting pedestal. There is solid gear that you can reach before you get out there and then I would recommend placing a piece to back up the junky old pin at the lip of the overhang. (I didn't clip the pin at all.) You have several climbing options after you clear the crux. I moved up a cool crack to the right and joined Bridle Path (5.7) to the top of the cliff, staying just left of Horseman (5.5). Good moves all the way.


(Photo: Gail at the crux of Double Clutch (5.9+).)

Double Clutch (5.9+): The last time I tried this climb I couldn't do the big move at all. It is a throw to a horizontal off of an overhanging cleft above the carriage road. This time around with Gail I still didn't get it right away. I tried to work out some beta to make the reach without a lunge but I couldn't do it. Gail encouraged me to really go for it as a lunge/throw-- and there is no reason not to go for it; the protection is excellent. Once I really went for it, I got it. It is a stupid little climb. Worth doing once.


(Photo: That's me on CC Route (5.7).)

BB Route (5.8+) and CC Route (5.7): I'd never gotten around to these short climbs to the right of the Uberfall descent route. BB Route is a good lead with a few tough moves up to the roof, made harder if you avoid the loose block with chalk all over it at the bottom of the wide vertical crack. The roof escape at the end of the pitch is straightforward but committing. We toproped CC Route because we couldn't see any gear. It was okay, but not as interesting as BB. I wouldn't lead it unless I had a few big number six Camalots on hand. There are some old pins but they look like junk.


(Photo: Gail securely wedged in the little chimney that begins Sundown (5.8+).)

Sundown (5.8+): This is a really nice pitch, right next to the ever-popular Frog's Head (5.6-). It has fun grovelly moves up the starting chimney formed by a block and then beautiful face climbing with decent (if spaced) gear. I thought this climb was the equal of all its more popular neighbors like Frog's Head and City Lights (5.8-). It was my favorite pitch of the day.


(Photo: Gail at the crux of Twisted Sister (5.8). The Baby (5.6) crack is visible to the left.)

Twisted Sister (5.8): Another squeeze job, this one right next to Baby (5.6). The crux is excellent, up a very shallow little corner just to the right of the Baby off-width. Good moves, and I got two bomber small nuts in the little corner. After the crux you can contrive to avoid merging with Baby all the way to the ledge but the climbing is much the same, sub-5.6 and not especially interesting.

By the end of the day I was feeling more like myself and wishing I'd done something a little harder. But in the wake of the horrible news from the prior week it was good to dial it back a notch and stick to some more casual fun. I could only hope that before the season was really over I would get another chance or two to hit my projects, with caution at the front of my mind, of course.

Stay safe out there, everyone.

(Photo: Will setting off on pitch two of Arrow (5.8).)

With this year's climbing season in its last days, I wanted to achieve something. I'd been out twice in November and while I'd redpointed one of my longstanding Gunks 5.10 projects I needed more.

Right after my easy Uberfall Sunday with Gail it was due to get pretty warm-- on Tuesday the high in the Gunks was supposed to be 52.

I had to get out again.

I couldn't end the season yet. I arranged to take a day off from work and found a partner on Mountain Project named Will.

Like my other new partner Andy, Will had learned to climb out west and had very little Gunks experience. I was happy to introduce him to some of my favorite local climbs, and I hoped this time to get on at least one 5.10 and maybe something new and challenging as well.

I was thinking about hitting Balrog (5.10b), so we warmed up nearby on Absurdland (5.8). The climbing was free and easy. I felt really good, and much less tired and tentative than on Sunday.

Unfortunately Balrog was wet, so we took a pass on that route. We moved over to the Arrow wall, where we ended up spending the rest of our day. I sent Will up to lead the 5.8- pitch one of Three Doves and he did a fine job. I had only done it once before and I was surprised at how good it was. I think this is one of the best of the lower pitches on this wall. It has two pleasant little overhangs and then an interesting, delicate, it's-all-there, face-climbing crux at the top of the pitch.


(Photo: Will on the 5.8- pitch one of Three Doves.)

I led pitch two of Three Doves (5.8+), one of my favorite 5.8 pitches in the Gunks. The face climbing past the pin is just so good. And the finishing traverse is great too. But this time I decided to skip the usual traverse and to do something new instead. Once I passed the crux moves over the pin I headed left instead of right, finishing on a roof problem at the top of a climb called Hawkeye (5.9+). (Below its roof, Hawkeye is overgrown and does not appear to be well protected.)


(Photo: Hawkeye (5.9+) goes through the big roof at the cleft that is at the center in the above photo.)

Just getting up to the Hawkeye roof from Three Doves involves a thin step up past a horizontal. It is good climbing. And then the roof itself is OUTSTANDING. There is great gear at the base of the cleft that splits the roof, and the move up over the roof is technical, burly and exciting. Clean rock, unique moves, great gear: what more could you ask for? I thought this was as good a 5.9 roof as I have experienced in the Gunks. It is every bit as good as the roofs on Grim-Ace Face or CCK Direct. It is a great way to finish Three Doves.


(Photo: Will just past the Hawkeye (5.9+) roof and about to move over to join me at the Three Doves (5.8+) anchor.)

After we got down from Hawkeye I decided to introduce Will to Feast of Fools (5.10b). I led pitch one and I'm proud to say it felt almost casual. I had no worries at the initial overhang and at the second crux I found it so much easier than the last time to hang in, clip the pin, and then step back down to shake out. As I fired through the moves up the little corner and reached the chains I felt like a different guy from the leader who slowly wormed his way up this same pitch last year.

Vegan POWER, my friends.


(Photo: Will on Feast of Fools (5.10b).)

We ended the day with two of the best climbs in the Gunks. I led the 5.6- pitch one of Limelight (not bad climbing but surprisingly sparse gear), and then Will took the lead for the crux pitches of both Arrow (5.8) and Limelight (5.7).


(Photo: Will at the Arrow (5.8) crux.)

I saw that Will went to the right at the upper bolt on Arrow. This is one of those great Gunks debates. Are you a left-at-the-bolt person or a right-at-the-bolt person?

I have always gone left, doing a pretty tense mantel move on the beautiful blank face-- the same move I worked out the very first time I climbed Arrow (my first 5.8 lead back in 2009). When I followed Will this time I tried going to the right instead and I was shocked to find it much easier than going left! I think if you go to the right at the upper bolt, Arrow is actually 5.8. If you go left it is harder. Who knew?

On Limelight, we had a little bit of drama. Will pulled up over the overlap that begins the crux portion of the route, and then I could see him start to struggle. He was standing on the unusual thin flake, perched on tiny footholds, barely keeping it together. He was tense and kept shaking out both of his hands. It turned out that his hands had both cramped up at the same time. This was a new experience for him, probably the result of dehydration plus the stress of leading. His left hand was clenched up so tight that he couldn't get it to open! He ended up using his mouth to pry his fingers away from his palm.

Eventually he worked through it, placed a piece, and resumed climbing. He sent the pitch.

Good work, Will.

The sun set as we were finishing with Limelight, so our day was done. We packed up and started walking out. By the time we got down to the carriage road it was completely dark out. On the way out I mentioned to Will that I'd never really climbed at night by headlamp, and that it might be fun.

As if on cue, as we passed the Madame G buttress, we heard a male climber yelling from high on the cliff to his partner, telling her that he had alerted the rangers. This got our attention.

We called up to the climbers, asking if they needed help. It turned out that the leader, a climber named Bob, had led the second and third pitches of Madame G (5.6) in one pitch, as leaders often do. But he'd started late in the day and by the time he'd put his partner on belay it was dark. He'd given her his headlamp but she was inexperienced and she was very afraid to follow the climb in the dark. She'd tried to do it but eventually she gave up and retreated to the tree atop pitch one.

Bob had asked her to untie and pulled the rope all the way up. I gather he was planning to rap down and get help. His partner was stranded one pitch up, and all of Bob's gear was left hanging on pitches two and three of Madame G.

Bob's mess was an opportunity for Will and me to be heroes. We sprung right into action, ascending the treacherous (unpaved!) approach trail to the base of the cliff and gearing up for the technical (5.4), lengthy (50 foot) pitch one of Madame G. I took the lead, volunteering for this dark journey into the unknown, my path lit only by my (insanely bright) headlamp. If I could successfully climb to the ledge where Bob's partner was stranded, I would then have the challenge of rigging a rappel in the inky black gloom of night using only my wits (and the fixed rappel rings on the tree).

In truth this may well have been the easiest rescue in the entire history of mountaineering. We had Bob's partner down in about ten minutes. She was a bit shaken up by the whole experience but she was fine. Once Bob knew Will and I were on the case he walked off from the top and met up with the rangers back in the Uberfall. As Will and I walked back down to the carriage road with Bob's partner, the rangers drove up with Bob in tow and we all got a lift back to the parking lot in the rangers' truck.

Will and I had a good time doing a very minor good deed and I finally got to climb at night. So it was all good fun from our perspective.

But poor Bob lost a lot of his gear. I hope he learns a little bit from the experience. He might have been wiser to stick to some single-pitch climbs until he had a better idea of what his partner could do. Certainly doing a long, wandering route like Madame G, so late in the day, was a poor choice. Bob placed himself in a position where he could neither rap down to collect his own gear nor descend directly to his stuck partner.

Bob sure learned his lesson the hard way. He posted to Mountain Project, asking politely for the return of his gear, and it appears he has gotten nothing but abuse for his trouble. Some of the abuse is perhaps justified but I don't think he deserves to lose all of his stuff. I'm sure someone has cleaned all the gear by now but no one has come forward to return it. I hope the person who cleaned the gear is just letting Bob suffer a bit; maybe eventually he or she will return it.

We all make mistakes.

Case in point: I was back in the Gunks on the Sunday after Thanksgiving and had the opportunity to make a big mistake of my own, though my mistake had little to do with climbing.

Right after my warm day with Will, an early-season winter storm came through the area, dumping six inches of snow on the Gunks. The temperatures hovered at around freezing for a few days thereafter, but on Sunday it was expected to reach 46 degrees, which was warm enough for climbing but not so warm that we'd see a total melty slushfest. Or that was my hope, anyway.

Gail thought I was crazy. But she was up at her house in Gardiner anyway so she agreed to climb with me if I really wanted to make the trip.

Of course, I did want to make the trip. Forget the snow-- I was still clinging to summer! And I'd been feeling so good lately, on Try Again (5.10b) and Feast of Fools. Maybe we'd find a dry 5.10 to send. It could be a last hurrah for 2014. We had to climb.

I woke up that morning and as per my usual routine I started to insert my contact lenses. I was using some cleaning solution that I'd never used before. This was a sample-sized bottle that I'd picked up as a freebie at the optician when I'd bought a new supply of my lenses.

I assumed this was the usual saline, but in fact it was a hydrogen peroxide solution. I had never used such a solution before; I didn't know anything about it. I hadn't bothered to look at the directions and I had failed to notice the special case that comes with this type of solution. I soon found out that if you don't neutralize the hydrogen peroxide solution with the special case, the hydrogen peroxide can severely burn your eyes.

Ignorant of all this, I rubbed my contact lens with the poison solution and then put it into my right eye. It was as if I'd lit my eye on fire. The pain was intense. It took all the effort I could muster to pry my eye open and remove the lens.

With the damaged eye clamped shut and the other one in tears, I tried to read the blurry, small print on the sample bottle and saw that it said something about how this solution is not intended to go directly into your eye. There was also some nonsense about the red tip on the bottle, which in theory is supposed to act as a warning. It remains a mystery to me how the uninitiated are supposed to know that the red tip is such a warning.

At the time, believe it or not, my main worry was not my eye but my climbing day. I needed to get moving or I was going to be late!

I flushed the affected eye with some water and in five or ten minutes it seemed like it was improving. I could keep the eye open, which was progress.

I got my crap together and drove off to the Gunks.

When Gail and I arrived at the cliff the conditions didn't look so bad. We were not the only climbers attempting to make a go of it. There was snow on the ground and the ledges but many walls were basically clear and dry.

We walked in and saw a lot of sun hitting the Jackie/Classic wall so we decided to set up shop there. I threw down my tarp, took my gear out and led Classic (5.7) to get us started. It was my second time on the climb this year. Again I was impressed at the quality of the face climbing, with really nice moves for the entire length of the pitch. It was a little bit wet under the finishing roof, and my fingers started to freeze a bit as I held on in the dampness and placed gear. While she was belaying me Gail occasionally had to dodge melting snow bombs as they fell from the trees. But these were small concerns. It was good to be climbing.


(Photo: Gail on Classic (5.7).)

As Gail followed the pitch I noticed my eye was getting worse. It was sensitive to direct sunlight. I couldn't stare up at Gail for more than a few seconds. There was a burning sensation. And it felt like something was stuck in the eye. It was hard not to rub it constantly. It was becoming a struggle for me to keep it open.

Nevertheless I soldiered on. Neither of us had ever done Classy (5.8), a variation to the right of Classic. So we did it. I led again. The first several moves of Classy are shared with Classic but then as Classic goes left, Classy heads upward to a left-facing corner system. There are some interesting moves up the corner system and then a pumpy traverse left (with good hands and thin feet) to the roof, where after one move up you are forced to merge again with Classic for the finish.


(Photo: Gail on the Classy (5.8) traverse.)

Classy is no Classic but it is good, and worth doing. I liked the moves up the corner and the traverse. And the gear is decent. The guidebook says it is 5.6 R before you reach the big corner but if you clip the third pin on Classic and go straight up there I don't think it is worse than PG. The rest of the way there is good gear; there is a great slot for a red Camalot right in the middle of the traverse.

I tried to put my injury out of my mind while I was leading Classy but as soon as I came down I realized it was getting worse and worse. It dawned on me that whatever I'd gotten in my eye was not adequately flushed out and it was continuing to do damage.

Gail and I tried to get some water into the eye at the base of the cliff using my Camelback but this effort was ineffective and a little ridiculous. What were we even doing there? I couldn't continue like this. We had to abort our climbing day.

Gail drove us in my car back to her house in Gardiner. She and Mitch and her son Max were incredibly kind, helping me set up a water bath for the eye in their kitchen sink. I flushed the eye repeatedly until I couldn't take any more. The eye was so inflamed, it felt like a smoking, radiating ruin. Curtis LeMay would have approved.

I needed to get home to Brooklyn but I wasn't sure I could drive. Gail and family had to head back to Philly and they quite reasonably and charitably offered to drive me in my car most of the way to NYC. But I wanted to wait. I hoped that in a few hours I'd be more sure that I could drive. So I insisted that they should go, and I would wait at Gail's house until I felt fit to drive. I could even wait until the next morning if I really had to.

I stayed a few hours and then decided to go for it. I couldn't say the eye was any better but I thought I could force it to stay open for the drive.

It turned out to be really hard to force the eye to stay open. The drive home was a nightmare. I was in pain the whole way and I worried that I was creating a hazard on the road. I stopped repeatedly to flush the eye with more water. When I finally got home I debated going to the ER but instead I sat in a dark room with my eyes closed until I fell asleep.

The next morning it felt a little better, though everyone who saw me was quick to tell me it looked terrible. The eye was still quite red and swollen. I resembled the Hunchback of Notre Dame after a bar fight. I saw the ophthalmologist and she gave me good news. Even though the white membrane covering my eye was distressed and swollen, my cornea looked surprisingly good and I would likely be fine in a few days. She gave me some steroid eye drops and sent me on my way.

The eye has since improved and is pretty much normal again, thank goodness.

What a way to end the year-- with both heroism and ignominy.

It has been a good year for me overall. I had some great climbing trips to Yosemite and the Red River Gorge. In the Gunks I've made incremental progress, working my way just a little further through the 5.10 grade. I've made some new climbing friends and I hope to just continue the same trends right into 2015.

And who knows, maybe there will still be a little more climbing in 2014 yet!

(Photo: Adam on Directissima (5.9), doing the pumpy crux traverse.)

Hello, my climbing friends.

It has been a while. When last we spoke, it was early December. The climbing season of 2014 was winding down.

Little did we know it, but we were in for another long winter.

As of this writing-- a few days after the official start of spring-- the wintry conditions remain.

And what have I done with the last four months?

I managed to avoid ice climbing for the entire season, again. I did plan to go once with my ice-loving buddy Adrian, but we ended up bailing on our chosen day because it was too cold! Yes, it was too cold for ice climbing. The idea of shearing off brittle plates of ice with every swing of the axe, in temperatures hovering around the minus-ten degree mark, seemed like no fun at all.

I did get out climbing on rock a few times.

My new partner Adam and I went to the Gunks on Christmas Day. It had rained the day before but Christmas was unseasonably warm and sunny. The slight breeze and low humidity dried most of the cliff pretty well. There were streaks of runoff everywhere, but many routes were acceptable... though the cruxes always seemed to be wet. (Doesn't it always work out that way?)


(Photo: Adam heading up Strictly From Nowhere (5.7), weaving between the wet streaks.)

We found a bunch of classic climbs we could do, and really, what more could you ask for? It was a Christmas miracle.

Adam is working his way through the 5.7's and 5.8's. Many wonderful Gunks moderates are still new to him. He reminds me of myself, just a few years ago.


(Photo: That's me, linking Strictly's into Shockley's Ceiling (5.6). Photo by Adam.)

After we did a few pitches I asked Adam if he had any climbs in mind-- the whole cliff was open to us. No one else was around. Adam started rattling off a list of three-star classics he'd never tried. After hearing a couple of them, I had to interrupt.

"Directissima? You haven't done Directissima? Oh my God, let's do that!"


(Photo: I'm at the crux of Directissima (5.9). Photo by Adam.)

Such a joy to usher someone else up an old favorite. I took care of the slightly scary 5.8 & 5.9 bits and handed it off to Adam for the beautiful 5.6 arete pitch and the High E finale.

It was a very good day.

We had no such warm, dry days in January or February.

As March rolled around I was starting to feel pretty desperate.

Previously I have held to a general rule that I would not go rock climbing unless it was above 40 degrees outside, for the whole day. So a high of 40 wouldn't do; you'd need the high to be closer to 45 or 50 so that temperatures would be in the 40's throughout the day. I arrived at this rule after I went out climbing a few times when it was in the 30's and found that my fingers got numb and tingly on cold rock, making it difficult to feel confident in my grip.

Of course, real mountaineers deal with this sort of thing all the time but there's no reason to subject yourself to this sort of torture just for a day at the crag, right?

But as March started to pass us by, it seemed like we weren't getting many days in which my minimum temperature would be met. I started to soften my position. I needed to go climbing.

Adam and I got out again on a Sunday in which the predicted high was something like 43. But I don't think it ever actually got that warm. It was 37 degrees when we left the car and I suspect the temperature never left the thirties. There was a foot of snow on the ground. But the rock was pretty dry. I'd say it was dry-ish. Seepy in spots.


(Photo: Adam on City Lights (5.8-), through the hardest moves and about to enter the easy runout.)

I started our 2015 season with Son of Easy O (5.8). The rock felt cold to the touch. My fingers, as predicted, began to go numb and I felt insecure holding on through the opening cruxy thin face. But I got over it and things improved from there. It was great to be back in the Gunks, regardless of the circumstances. I was occasionally too cold, but mostly okay.

Adam ticked off a nice 5.8 lead with City Lights, which he took to the top in one pitch. I can't believe I've never posted before about City Lights. It is a great classic I've enjoyed several times. It is a good lead for breaking into the grade because there is only one hard move with great gear, at the two triangular pods close to the ground. The route is a little run out higher up, in 5.5-ish territory, but not too bad. The second 5.6 pitch is also nice, up a steep corner and face.

I got my first 5.9 lead of the year out of the way with Apoplexy, which at this point may be the climb I've led more than any other. I haven't grown tired of it yet.


(Photo: Adam at the 5.7 crux of pitch two of Morning After, with quite a bit of snow still visible on the ground.)

Though my 37-degree day with Adam worked out surprisingly well, I resolved to wait for a little more warmth before going back out there again.

But then Gail reached out to me one Monday and asked me if I might like to take a day off of work to climb with her on Tuesday. It was only going to be about 38 degrees but we could expect some sunshine.

How could I refuse? I told her I was in.

Gail has had the worst winter imaginable.

Her husband Mitch passed away recently, just a few months after it was discovered that he had cancer. He was only 55 years old. It is a devastating loss.

If you are a reader of this blog, then you know that Gail has been my most regular Gunks climbing partner for the past four years. She is one of my favorite people in the whole world. I tend to rush into the Gunks to climb and then rush right back out again, so most of our time together is spent actually climbing. Gail and I haven't spent nearly enough time hanging out with our families, so I never got to know Mitch in the way that I know Gail. But I did climb with him a little and I hung out with him a little. I got to know him well enough to see what a kind, genuine person he was, and how deeply he and Gail loved each other.

Writing about him like this, in the past tense, seems impossible. He was just here! I saw him right after Thanksgiving, at Gail's house in Gardiner. It seems like yesterday. I had stupidly injured my eye and Mitch helped me set up an eye bath in their kitchen sink. It was classic Mitch-- he was helpful and generous but at the same time he gave me a gentle ribbing for the idiocy I demonstrated in sticking hydrogen peroxide directly into my eye.

This was not a proud moment for me and it was a very brief interaction between the two of us but I will never forget it, because everything was normal. He was Mitch, the same guy he'd always been, strong and funny. Within a few days everything changed for him and Gail. I can't make any sense of it and I don't know how Gail can even begin to process it. I do know that Gail is a very strong person and that she can overcome any challenge. (I realize how trite that must sound, but it's true.)


(Photo: Mitch and Gail in 2012, at the base of Never Never Land.)

I didn't know what Gail had in mind for our climbing day but I was so happy that we could get together. It had been months since I'd seen her one-on-one and I hoped returning to climbing might be a comfort to her.

We had a good day together, climbing and talking. We started late because it was still below thirty degrees when I arrived at Gail's house. And once we finally got out there, I got a little numbness in my fingers again as I led Sixish (5.4).

But the sun was out and it really helped. The highlight of our day was a climb called Anguish (5.8). I've written about this climb before, back in 2012. That was the only other time I've been on the route. On that occasion I led pitch one, but I chickened out of its crux 5.7 move: a left exit from a little alcove. I was afraid to commit to the move back then, because my last gear was at the back of the alcove and I didn't like the potential fall if I failed at the crux. So I escaped right.

This time, in 2015, I still couldn't find any higher gear. Gail told me that she's seen someone get a C3 at the lip of the little overhang but I couldn't make anything work. In contrast to 2012, however, this time the crux move didn't trouble me, so I went ahead and climbed out to the left and it was quite enjoyable. As soon as you commit and make the one move out of the alcove you find jugs and gear, but be careful: if you blow this one move it could be bad news for your ankles.

Once we were both on the GT Ledge I got set to lead the 5.8 pitch, which I'd followed in 2012. I couldn't remember much about it. I recalled that my partner Matt found it challenging and that he'd found a piton up there somewhere.

It turned out to be a doozy. This is a tough tough 5.8! From the ledge (immediately left and around the big corner from the Three Pines descent route) you can see up above you a hanging, right-facing corner beneath a ceiling. You need to work your way up to the top of this hanging corner and then exit left to get over the roof. Right from the start this pitch is steep and in your face. You have to move up, then make a thin traverse right, move up again and make another thin traverse left to the base of the hanging corner.

There is gear along the way but once you reach the hanging corner, your only pro for the crux move up to the roof is a junky old piton. I was glad to clip it but I sure didn't want to fall on it. If I fell and it broke I was looking at a nice swing to the right. It was a little bit tense for a minute there but I made the move and, with relief, slammed a red Camalot into the crack beneath the overhang.

The rest of the way is pleasant and just below the top of the cliff there is a surprise: a short, fun, slabby section on white rock reminiscent of the Arrow wall.

In 2012 I said that I didn't think too much of the first pitch of Anguish but now I think the whole climb is great and very worthwhile. I would warn you, however, that both cruxes are somewhat serious. I would not want to fall at either one. I'd say Anguish is a very good 5.8 for the 5.10 leader.


(Photo: Gail at the end of our day on another sandbag 5.8: Dirty Gerdie (5.8+).)

I squeezed one more cold climbing day into March this year. I met Adrian last Saturday, setting a new record low temperature for me, as far as rock climbing in the Gunks is concerned. The expected high was only in the low thirties, and there was a chance of snow. I would have called it off except that I knew Adrian was coming down from Montreal for the whole weekend and I didn't want to strand him without a partner on one of his two days.

When we got started it was below freezing and snowing. (Flurries came down all morning.)

I nearly went to pieces at the crux on our first climb, Squiggles (5.4). I was standing at the piton, about fifteen feet off the ground, just beneath a roof. I needed to move right to a crimp to avoid the overhang but my hands were cramping and burning from the cold. I wasn't sure I could hold on to the crimp and I started to panic. Eventually I stepped down so I could back up the pin and stick my hands in my puffy jacket to warm up.

"What are we doing here?" I wondered. "Is this fun?"

After I warmed my hands a bit I got going again, finishing my successful on-sight of Squiggles. It's actually not a bad pitch. Short, but good rock. Interesting moves up the ramp and around the roof.


(Photo: Adrian following my bold lead of Squiggles (5.4).)

While we waited for it to maybe get a little warmer we top-roped the two 5.10's right next to Squiggles: Squiggles Direct (5.10b) and Jacob's Ladder (5.10b).

These were both new to us as well and they too are not bad climbs, though like Squiggles they are short. Both climbs feature thin technical face climbing with quick cruxes. The rock is solid. Neither climb has any gear for the crux but the cruxes are close to the ground. With a couple of bouldering pads you could probably highball them, if you're into that kind of thing. Caveat emptor: I don't boulder.


(Photo: Adrian past the low crux on Jacob's Ladder (5.10b).)

We did some more easy stuff around the Uberfall, hoping it would warm up, but it never did. It was so cold out that at one point Adrian took a sip of his Gatorade and gave himself an ice cream headache.

We had a good time anyway. Climbing is really about the people, isn't it? It was good just to be out climbing together.

We finished the day on a high note. I was about ready to pack it in when Adrian suggested we do Retribution and Nosedive (both 5.10b).

If Adrian was willing to lead 5.10 then I guessed I had to do it too.

We trudged on over and Adrian chose to lead Nosedive, the climb on the right.

I wouldn't say it was without any shaky moments for him but he gutted it out, sending the pitch cleanly for a strong early-season performance. As the follower I had no issues with the climbing, but the sun had gone behind the cliff and my fingers started tingling and burning again. Luckily Nosedive has stances, so I was able to stop periodically to put my hands in my pockets.

I wasn't really feeling like leading anything at this point, much less a 5.10, but when I reached the top of Nosedive I decided I might as well lead Retribution. I know the climb backwards and forwards and it has good gear, so I could always hang if I needed to.


(Photo: I'm past the crux on Retribution (5.10b). Photo by Adrian.)

It went fine and it allowed me to leave the cliff feeling pretty good. I felt solid on all four tens we climbed on our cold day together and once it warms up a little I hope to hit some new ones.

Bring on Spring, PLEASE!

(Photo: Olivier on Birdie Party (5.8+)

Last Sunday was a beautiful day-- finally!-- in the Gunks.

I was climbing with Olivier, a friend of Gail's from Philly. I'd met him several times around the cliffs, but we'd never roped up together before.

With sunny skies and highs expected in the low sixties, the conditions were just about ideal.

I was very excited, because I was finally going to see what condition I was in. I'd been out three times in March but it was so cold I hadn't felt comfortable trying anything new or difficult.

Now, however, there were no excuses. It was time to try something.

I worked hard over the winter to try to improve my climbing.

The most important step I took was to enroll in a coaching program/webinar with the training guru Don McGrath. Don's expertise is in the mental aspects of the climbing game. His approach isn't entirely mental, to be sure-- he believes physical fitness is very important. But he is not on the bandwagon with all of the recent training bibles which would have all climbers hangboarding and campusing their way to 5.13 (or perhaps to elbow and pulley injuries). Instead his primary focus is on the mental barriers which cause us to quit before our bodies really need to quit. He attempts to help climbers realize their potential by overcoming these barriers, many of which are related to fear, such as fear of falling and fear of failure.

You can read all about it Don's excellent book The Vertical Mind (written with Jeff Elison).

My friend Gail worked with Don last fall. She has struggled with her lead head and has shied away from leading climbs anywhere close to her real physical limits for years. She was happy with Don's advice and I could see the results as 2014 came to a close. Gail was out there on the lead much more often and on harder climbs, too. Gail told me that Don was offering a winter program and when I checked it out I decided to sign up. Why not?

It turned out to be an insanely good value. Don provided a set of general fitness videos he made himself, and designed a set of climbing exercises for us to perform in the gym to improve endurance and technique. He also gave us a blueprint for a weekly schedule of working out and climbing that we would follow over the course of the eight-week program, and he advised us on picking goals that we would attempt to reach during our time together. Last but not least, there was a weekly webinar in which we would all talk together as a group about our goals and progress. During the weekly webinar Don would also present a short lesson on a specific topic, such as advanced footwork or practice falls. And outside the weekly call Don was always available by email if we had questions or wanted advice. All of this for just a couple of hundred bucks!

I enjoyed the whole program and got a lot out of it. Though all of it was useful, I found two parts of the program to be most helpful to me personally: Don's general fitness videos and the goal-setting part of the course.

Don's general fitness videos convinced me to change my workout regime entirely. For many years my main exercise other than climbing has been cycling, but in recent years I've been bored to tears with it and have only sporadically kept up with it because I find riding in the park in NYC to be such a tiresome chore.

I did Don's twenty-minute workouts for a few weeks and decided I really enjoyed them. Then I took it a step further and started doing P90X3, the third iteration of the wildly popular exercise program from fitness king Tony Horton. Really P90X3 isn't so different from Don's videos (both programs feature high-intensity short workouts which tax a bunch of different muscle groups) but my wife Robin has been doing the original P90X for some time and I have come to enjoy Tony Horton's style. I was already thinking about trying it, and Don's program was just the push I needed to get going with it. I'm now most of the way through the P90X3 cycle and I feel like not only have I gotten more fit, but I'm stronger in ways that match up better with climbing. My core strength has increased, and with all of the yoga and other similar exercises my balance is better too. I'm working out antagonistic muscles to my climbing muscles (lots of push ups!), so I feel my muscles are less out-of-balance as well.

By forcing me to set concrete goals, Don showed me that I've been seriously holding myself back in the climbing gym. I picked some gym climbs to "project" that I thought were surely above my pay grade, but when I tried them it turned out that I could already do them! My mind was completely blown. Eventually I picked some climbs that were so hard that I couldn't send them before they were taken down. The process of working on these harder climbs made most of the climbs in the gym feel so much easier than before. I finished the eight-week course climbing much much harder routes in the gym than I was doing when I started out. Don made me open my eyes to my true potential, which was much greater than I realized.

My success in the climbing gym made me very excited for the outdoor season to come. I resolved (once it finally got warm) to pick some Gunks climbs outside my comfort zone, routes that I had always assumed were too hard for me, and to try them.

Before I met up with Olivier I identified two such climbs: Coexistence and Ridiculissima. Both are 5.10d but I don't think I'm saying anything too controversial if I argue that they would be 5.11's in many other places. They are both generally regarded as hard testpieces.

Olivier had been out climbing on Saturday and he was very easygoing about whatever I wanted to climb on Sunday. Maybe he was overwhelmed by my extreme enthusiasm.

I didn't want to just hop on Coex first thing so we did some warming up.

After a quick run up to the bolts on Birdie Party (5.8+) we started looking around for another good climb to do. I asked Olivier if we could take a look at a Ruby Saturday Direct (5.10a). This is reputed to be an "easy" 5.10, with a single crux move on pitch one, and then a sustained, steep 5.9+ section on the traditional pitch two. I had never been on it and I was intrigued to check it out after Gail and I so enjoyed its neighbor Anguish (5.8) a few weeks ago. Olivier had done it before and was willing to do it again.

I led the first two pitches in one to the GT Ledge. It went very well. The first pitch has a few interesting moves right off of the ground and then the crux comes pretty quick, a thin section through a bulge. I thought the crux was a good move and not too hard. But the crux hold and the crux gear depend on a little left-facing flake that might rip off one day. The flake looks suspect but it feels pretty solid. I wouldn't want to be holding it when and if it breaks.


(Photo: Olivier finishing the overhanging 5.9+ section of pitch two of Ruby Saturday Direct (5.10a).)

After the crux, the climbing is casual up to a nice shelf where the second pitch begins. Once you move up to a long shelf, you hand traverse to the right and then follow the obvious holds upward through a sustained steep section. This was really good climbing, I thought. Good gear, too.

I liked Ruby Saturday, though I do not know that I'll be back to repeat pitch one. The first pitch is just okay. It is a decent quick 5.10, if that is what you are looking for. The second pitch, on the other hand, is great. This pitch would be a wonderful link-up with the first and third pitches of Anguish (as the guidebook recommends).

Olivier quickly joined me on the GT Ledge. He suggested we take the third pitch of Glypnod (5.8) to the top. This pitch is just a little bit left of Anguish/Ruby Saturday and it follows an obvious right-facing corner with two overhangs. I had never been on it before. Olivier put it up, getting great pro at the early crux ceiling. When I followed I was impressed. Like Anguish to its right, this is a tough 5.8! A committing, burly layback gets you over the first roof. The crux is brief, however, and the rest of the way is easy and a bit bushy/dirty. This pitch is worthwhile for its great crux, but I do wish the good stuff continued a little longer.


(Photo: Olivier headed quickly into the business on pitch three of Glypnod (5.8).)

With four pitches down it was time for me to hit my project climb. Coex was occupied. So we trooped on down to the High E buttress to find Ridiculissima available. The climb was in the shade. Conditions couldn't be better.

I started to feel very nervous. Before this day I had never even considered leading this climb. It seemed obvious that it was too hard for me. I wasn't sure how technically demanding the climbing was going to be. (I top-roped it once before, in 2012. But I couldn't remember anything about it.) It looked very steep. I knew the gear was supposed to be very good. I told myself there was nothing to worry about, so long as I made sure to be safe and place pro. Eventually I started upward.

I did not send it. But I came somewhat close.

There are two 5.8 crack systems right next to each other at the base of the buttress. I took the right-hand crack up to the little ledge at forty feet, because I've always been told it has better gear than the one on the left. Then I led straight into the Ridiculissima pitch.

It gets steep very quickly. After negotiating some hard, overhanging moves past a little rooflet and placing a lot of pro along the way, I reached a vertical crack below a small ceiling. This crack is probably the crux section. I spent too long hanging in there at the base of the crack, fiddling in some nuts, shaking out. Once I was satisfied with the gear I botched the sequence, getting my hands reversed. I tried to regroup, stepping down to go for it again, but the pump got to be too much and I eventually took a hang.

After taking a rest I did the crux move (it wasn't so bad) and then continued up over the (hard) overhang to a very welcome stance. I can't remember what I said but I know at this point I let out a few loud utterances. It felt really good to get over the difficulties, and everyone in the immediate vicinity found out how good it felt! I knew from this stance onward the angle eased and the climbing to the GT Ledge would be no problem.

Whew! This pitch is AMAZING. It may be my new favorite. It is steep and difficult for quite a ways. The movement is beautiful and there is gear everywhere. Now that I know the basic sequence and the gear at the crux I think I will send it soon.


(Photo: Finishing up Ridiculissima (5.10d).)

Mostly I'm just thrilled that I tried Ridiculissima, and got through it in control and very safely. It would have been awesome to send it on the first go, but just getting confirmation that I can handle it is an exciting thing.

If I can attack this climb in April, what else is on the horizon this year? As Kevin would say, what's my Dawn Wall? I have lots of legendary Gunks climbs in my sights: Fat City Direct (5.10d), Erect Direction (5.10c)..... dare I say Carbs and Caffeine (5.11a)??

Maybe in time.

Olivier and I then did another pitch that was new to me-- the 5.8 pitch to the top which Dick Williams calls the final pitch of Doubleissima. This one starts at the right end of the coffee-table block on the High E ledge. There is another 5.8 pitch further right which Dick describes as the finish to Lakatakissima. I did that pitch on the right last year with Nani and liked it very much. The one on the left is good too, juggy and pumpy, though not quite as difficult as the one on the right. I don't think these two pitches get done all that much, which is a shame. They are good climbs.

After we got back to the ground it was time to dial it back and do some easier stuff.

What an awesome day. Great weather and great climbs, so many of them new for me. The season has officially begun.

This weekend I am headed to Seneca Rocks for four days, and if it doesn't rain all weekend maybe I'll even get some climbing done! We shall see.

(Photo: That's me leading Crack of Dawn (5.10a). Photo by Gail.)

The plan was for Adrian and I to take a trip to Seneca Rocks, West Virginia.

I would drive down from NYC. Adrian would fly from Montreal to Dulles Airport, where I would pick him up en route.

Then we would RAGE on the rocks for four days.

Gail decided to join us. She found a fourth, her friend Jeff. They were coming from Philadelphia and would meet us down at Seneca. I arranged a cabin for us all to share, and we were all set.

Until the day of the trip actually arrived, that is.

I was about an hour away from Dulles Airport when I found out that Adrian's flight had been cancelled. He wasn't going to make it.

With Adrian out, what was I to do? I could climb with Jeff and Gail in a party of three, or I could abandon the trip and head back to New York.

After a flurry of text messages, I decided to bravely press on. Gail and Jeff were fine with the idea of climbing in a threesome. Jeff was a seasoned veteran of Seneca who seemed eager to play tour guide. Gail had been talking to Jeff about my ambitions and he already had a list of climbs he wanted to put me on. With no flight schedules to worry about, the three of us could stay for two days instead of four and come home once the weather turned.

We ended up having a great time. Over our two days in Seneca, I did the lion's share of the leading, as Jeff generously picked out climb after climb for me. Jeff was more than capable of taking the sharp end-- he is a 5.11 trad leader-- but he had done all of these climbs before and enjoyed watching me work to on-sight many of his favorites. Gail got to do some solid leads as well. And I got to follow Jeff up a few harder pitches that I'm grateful I didn't have to lead.


(Photo: Seneca Rocks. The North Peak is on the left, South Peak on the right.)

I loved pretty much everything about Seneca Rocks.

Before the trip, I worried that the place would be intimidating. Seneca has a stout reputation. We've all heard people say that Gunks ratings are sandbagged. But there are many who claim that the Gunks' reputation for stiff ratings is radically overblown, and that the REAL sandbag area in the East is...

Seneca Rocks.

It turned out that Seneca's reputation is well deserved. But I was instantly comfortable on my feet at Seneca because the rock felt a lot like the rock in the Gunks. The difficulty ratings, too, were in my opinion pretty consistent with the Gunks, though I would say the typical Seneca climb is steeper and more sustained than the average Gunks route, making it seem more challenging.

We spent our whole first day on the West Face of the South Peak, in the area known as the "Face of 1000 Pitons." This is one of the prime areas at Seneca, with many classic climbs stacked right next to each other.

Jeff put me right to work on Triple S, a 5.8+ testpiece which Jeff described as "the best 5.8 in the world." It is a destination climb, the High E of Seneca.


(Photo: At the first crux on Triple S (5.8+). Doing it like a chimney here. Photo by Jeff.)

It was a pretty rude warm-up but it went off without a hitch and was very enjoyable. The climb is dead vertical, up a right-angled corner for the entire length of the pitch. The left wall has lots of holds, flakes, and variations, while the right wall is mostly flat and blank. There are interesting moves throughout and, as I see it, three crux sections on the way to the anchor. You can use a variety of techniques, sometimes stemming, and sometimes putting your back on the right wall and climbing it like a chimney. As is typical in Seneca, you can place gear almost anywhere due to the vertical crack that runs up the back of the entire corner.


(Photo: Stemming it out a bit higher on Triple S (5.8+). Photo by Jeff.)

After we all took a run on Triple S we shifted our sights to Marshall's Madness, a 5.9 just a few feet to the left. The first pitch of Marshall's is short, just forty steep feet up a vertical crack system and over a small roof to a bolted anchor.

For some reason I started feeling nervous and I messed up on Marshall's Madness. Just a few moves off of the deck I managed to take a lead fall (with a perfect cam right in my face). I wasn't jamming the crack like I should have been and instead I reached to the right for a face hold that turned out not to offer a lot of purchase.

Mayan Smith-Gobat says "A hand jam is as good as a bolt." I wish I felt this way. Maybe someday.


(Photo: Marshall's Madness (5.9), take two. Photo by Gail.)

Feeling like an idiot, I went back at Marshall's Madness and this time it seemed easy. This really isn't a hard 5.9. It is kind of pumpy for just two or three moves. Once you pass these moves, the roof is probably just 5.8. The pitch has good climbing but it is brief.


(Photo: Gail on Marshall's Madness (5.9). Photo by Jeff.)

After watching Gail and Jeff waltz up Marshall's Madness (Gail pronounced it easier than Triple S!) I got set to belay Jeff on Mongoose, a 5.10d just to its left.

This pitch doesn't merit a star in the guidebook and there is no entry for it on Mountain Project. It must be unpopular. But it has high quality climbing all the way, following a steep, clean finger crack up to the left side of the same overhang that Marshall's Madness goes through.

When we did the route it was a little bit wet at the crux, increasing the difficulty. For Jeff the hardest part seemed to be in getting gear he liked in the thin crack. He got two pieces eventually but they seemed finicky and very strenuous to place. He struggled with the placements for a while, stepping up and down. Once Jeff had satisfactory gear he made the difficult-looking moves up to the overhang and then blasted over the ceiling to the belay.


(Photo: Jeff working hard to get gear at the crux of Mongoose (5.10d). Photo by Gail.)

Now it was my turn. I managed to follow Mongoose cleanly, but boy, I thought this was a hard 5.10. Very steep and strenuous, with tiny footholds through the crux. I was glad I didn't have to place the gear. (I couldn't see Gail when she ended up following this pitch but I think she found it very challenging as well.)

Maybe I was getting a taste of the Seneca sandbag effect? When I reached Jeff at the anchor, the plan was for me to take over the lead and to climb straight into a famous pitch called Crack of Dawn (5.10a). I had dreamed of coming to Seneca and doing this climb. I hoped I was ready for this. After taking a fall on Marshall's Madness and barely squeaking by on Mongoose I wasn't so sure.

To my relief, Crack of Dawn ended up going very well. It erased all my doubts.


(Photo: Finishing the crux bulge on Crack of Dawn (5.10a). Photo by Gail.)

This is a great, great pitch. My favorite of the trip. It starts up a wide crack shared with pitch two of Marshall's Madness, but pretty quickly you have to swing out right (exposed!) to the base of a hand crack through a roof. After you crank over the roof, a few more overhanging moves (all of it with great gear) take you through a bulge and then easier, lower-angled climbing leads to a ledge with an anchor.

I probably should have jammed more than I did, but I managed to get through it cleanly regardless.

A 5.10 on-sight lead on my first day at Seneca! It felt great.


(Photo: Jeff nearing the top of Crack of Dawn (5.10a), trailing a rope for Gail.)

What next? Jeff suggested a face climb to our right called Breakneck Direct (5.10b). The route follows a vertical finger crack which begins about twenty feet off the ground. Jeff warned me that when he'd led it he hadn't found too much gear in the first twenty feet, but he assured me that the gear is good once you reach the crack.

I didn't know that this was the optional "direct" start to the Direct. It is apparently easier (and probably better protected) to come into the crack from the left. Unaware of this, I went straight up to the crack through an initial rotten band of rock that takes you over a small overhang. The climbing here isn't awfully difficult, but protecting the moves requires creative placements in questionable rock. I was really happy to reach the crack, where I could plug in some reliable gear.


(Photo: Breakneck Direct Direct (5.10b). Photo by Gail.)

For the rest of the way the rock is solid and the moves are consistently thin and challenging, using the vertical finger crack and occasional small edges on the face. This climb has no stances. It is technical all the way to the bolted anchor, and though there is no one especially hard sequence, the tension builds as you get higher. Just before you reach the bolted anchor the crack thins out to a tiny seam and you have to keep it together for the last move with some small gear below you (I had a blue Alien).

I was thrilled to make it to the top cleanly. This was one of my proudest on-sight leads anywhere. Jeff seemed to approve.


(Photo: Gail on Breakneck Direct Direct (5.10b).)

At this point I was mentally drained.

We ended the day with another nearby climb: the first pitch of Neck Press (5.7+). Gail stepped up to lead this pitch, which ascends a beautiful curving corner. She made it look very easy but when I followed it I thought the final, overhanging moves up the corner were tough. There are some thoughtful, awkward moves in there. Maybe I was just tired.


(Photo: Gail on Neck Press (5.7+). Photo by Jeff.)

It was time to retire to the Front Porch (one of the only restaurants in town) for some surprisingly good pizza, a great view of the cliffs, and wifi.

On our second day Gail and I really wanted to do one of the longer routes that goes to the summit of one of the peaks at Seneca. Jeff had several suggestions for us.

We started out taking the hiker's trail up to the observation deck at the northern end of Seneca Rocks. From there we went around the back of the formation and traveled south past the East Face of the North Peak, picking out some climbs to do along the way to one of the summit routes Jeff had in mind.

Right away, just past the observation deck, Jeff suggested I warm us up with Streptococcus (5.9). This is a short (50 foot) route up a clean face with a zig-zag hand crack. I really liked this route, though I wish it were a little longer. I negotiated the initial moves up to the crack, then hesitated a bit while I examined the crux bits to come. While I stood there sussing it out (was that next hold out right a jug, or was it nothing?), Jeff kept talking about a poor woman who'd had a fatal accident on the route a few years ago. Apparently her gear ripped out.

Jeff meant well, but he seemed to go on and on about how he couldn't understand how the gear failed on such a G-rated route. As I stood there listening, the holds seemed to get smaller and smaller and my bomber gear started to look worse and worse.


(Photo: Streptococcus (5.9). Photo by Jeff.)

I began to get a little freaked out even though I knew deep down that everything was fine. I needed to get on with it. Stepping up into the crux, I placed two perfect cams, asked Jeff to PLEASE stop talking about people dying, and carried on.

Next we moved down to another good 5.9 called Desperado. This one is high quality for a full 100 feet, with a delicate step across to a stance beneath a ceiling, then a good crux getting over the roof, and finally some technical moves in a left-facing corner above.


I really liked Desperado. My only reservation was that I felt the pro for the roof was a bit iffy, even though I managed to get placements. I had a decent nut in a tiny crack under the roof, but the cam I placed overhead was in a slot that flared a bit more than I would have liked.

At every stance I tried to sing a bit of the song, for luck.

"Desperado, why don't you come to your senses...."


(Photo: Jeff working on a variation called Desperado Direct (5.11b). Photo by Gail.)

These single-pitch routes were fun, but the day was already slipping away. It was time for our summit route.

We negotiated a complicated system of ledges until we found ourselves beneath the impressive East Face of the South Peak. Jeff directed us to Conn's East Direct (5.8), which would take us in two short pitches to a large ledge about halfway up the face.


(Photo: Looking up at the East Face of the South Peak, with several climbing parties visible high on the face.)

Gail took on the first pitch of Conn's East Direct. The crux of this pitch is right off the deck, with polished slopey hands and small footholds. There is no gear for these first few moves, which earns the pitch a PG/R rating in the guidebook. Gail led calmly through it and then got a great nut at the first available crack. Jeff gave her a spot until she had some pro in. I think she would have been fine even if she'd blown it. During the difficult moves her feet were only a few feet off the ground. Still, this pitch feels pretty necky while you are doing it. It is a solid lead. Once Gail was through the early crux she cruised up the somewhat interesting, widening crack to the first belay ledge.


(Photo: Gail on Conn's East Direct (5.8). Photo by Jeff)

Jeff led pitch two, which again has a quick 5.8 crux right off the belay (a layback up a corner), with good gear. Then it is easy going up a ramp to the big shelf.

Several different routes ascend from this shelf to the summit. When I joined Jeff and Gail at the ledge Jeff offered me two choices: Alcoa Presents (5.8+) or Orangeaid (5.10b). He described them both as classics.

I took one look at Alcoa Presents and wanted to do it. It appeared to be a beautiful climb up steep rock. I knew that by not leading Orangeaid I might be passing up my only shot at a 5.10 on our second day, as it was already well after noon and we had to leave with time to drive up to Philadelphia in the evening. But it was sunny and hot out, and in the moment, sweating and thirsty there on the ledge, Alcoa Presents looked difficult enough for me.

It turned out to be a good choice. I loved Alcoa Presents. It was probably my favorite pitch of the trip after Crack of Dawn. It starts with steep climbing up juggy rock, and then the footholds get very thin in the technical, shallow corner that leads to the summit. Little holds in the corner and some flakes out right provide passage to the top. In the crux corner there is an overdriven aluminum piton which gives the route its name. It is pounded in too far for it to be clippable with a biner but you could run a sling through it if you wanted to. There was other gear nearby so I just ignored it.


(Photo: Gail at the crux of Alcoa Presents (5.8+).)

As we reached the summit of the South Peak we got a great view of the improbable formations that make up Seneca Rocks. When you are close to the ground Seneca feels like any other crag, but as you gain altitude you become very aware that the seemingly solid cliffs are really nothing but huge shark's fins made of stone, which at their summits are less than a meter thick.


(Photo: Looking north from the top of Alcoa Presents (5.8+). The climbers in the foreground are at the top of Conn's East (5.6). In the distance you can see much of the overhanging West Face of the North Peak, with a climber at the chains atop on Madmen Only (5.10a) and another one beneath him, halfway up the face. There is also a climber visible atop a climb on the opposite side of the formation.)

Up atop Alcoa Presents we were a few feet shy of the true summit but through a hole in the cliff (which functioned like a ship's porthole) we could see through to the town and countryside on the other side of the South Peak. We could also look sideways to see practically the whole North Peak, which to all appearances was as thin as a sheet of paper and which leaned dramatically towards its West Face in the manner of the famous tower in Pisa. There were some climbers visible at the bolts atop a route on the West Face called Madmen Only. As I looked at them it seemed entirely possible that their weight alone would be enough to tip the whole North Peak over, sending it straight to the ground like a trap door slamming shut.

I wasn't sure how much more we would get done after our summit route but I stacked the deck against us by getting our rope stuck on our last rappel from Alcoa Presents. Another party eventually freed the rope for us but we ended up waiting around a while.

Jeff had some routes in mind on the South End, so after we retrieved our rope we headed down there. By the time we got to the South End, what with the 80-degree heat and the hike around the formation, I had to say I was pretty beat. I was glad Jeff was looking to lead something, so I wouldn't have to.

He finished our little trip with a climb called Muscle Beach. The second pitch has some 5.11a cracks but Jeff was planning on just the first pitch, which goes up around a small 5.10 roof.

As usual, Jeff did a solid job and sent the pitch. I was able to follow it cleanly as well, which felt good at the end of a hot day. It is steep, awkward, and in your face for a few moves. I enjoyed the climb but it wasn't one of our most memorable pitches. I was happy just to see the South End, a cool area of Seneca with a huge cave and lots of odd blocks and corners.

(Photo: Jeff in blocky terrain on the 5.10 first pitch of Muscle Beach. Photo by Gail.)

As we walked out Gail remarked that we'd circumnavigated the entire area on our second day. We really got to see a lot.

I thoroughly enjoyed Seneca Rocks. It doesn't have nearly the amount of climbing that the Gunks has, but what is there is of very high quality. And the climbs are of a sustained, steep nature that the Gunks doesn't often provide.

I'm very grateful to Jeff for showing us around and allowing me to lead so much! He really made it easy for Gail and me to have a great experience.

And I was pretty happy in the end with my performance on the routes. For the most part I was comfortable on all the routes we tried. I left having on-sighted two solid Seneca tens, which felt pretty darn good.

I could see returning to the area once a year. I'm definitely going to need a Seneca fix again, and a year seems like a long time to wait!

(Photo: Olivier coming up Insuhlation (5.9).)

It has been an eventful few weeks for me, climbing wise. I'm not sure where to begin.

I tried a few Gunks routes that were new to me.

I returned to an old nemesis, Insuhlation (5.9).

I went back at my recent project, Ridicullissima (5.10d).

And holy frijoles, I led pitch one of Nurse's Aid (5.10c)!

It began two Sundays ago, when I got out with Adrian and Gail in a party of three. This was a last hurrah of sorts for Adrian, as he was about to move back out west to Vancouver. He'll be back 'round these parts occasionally, but he won't be driving down regularly to the Gunks from Montreal any more.

Gail and Adrian both knew that my agenda for the day started and ended with Ridicullissima, the climb I'd one-hanged a few weeks before. So the three of us walked in its general direction and looked for something new and different with which to get warmed up on the way there.

We ended up starting out on Faithful Journey (5.7). This was a new one for Adrian and me, though Gail had done it before. Adrian took the lead and made quick work of the first pitch despite the fact that the route has rather poor gear. There are spaced placements, but they aren't always right where you want them and some of them are iffy. When I followed the pitch I felt like the climbing was a little thin and technical for 5.7, too. The route has nice climbing on clean rock, though the line feels indistinct and a bit squeezed-in between Wonderland and Middle Earth.


(Photo: Adrian at the first hard move on Faithful Journey (5.7).)

Once Adrian reached the usual belay ledge (where the big Middle Earth tree sits), he continued straight up to the next ledge, where there is another tree with some fixed slings. From there I took it to the top of the cliff on what I believe is the last pitch of Bombs Away Dream Baby (5.7). It goes through the roof above the GT Ledge at a small, hanging, right-facing corner, directly above the higher tree with slings.

I thought the Bombs Away roof was nice enough but, again, the gear isn't exactly what you'd want. There are good pieces but they are several feet below the overhang. Falling would not be a good idea. But the climbing is straightforward. There is a good knob to grab over the ceiling and then it's all over.

Our link up of Faithful Journey into Bombs Away Dream Baby made for a pleasant, straight line of poorly protected 5.7 from the bottom of the cliff to the top.

Next we marched on down to the High E buttress. Adrian decided to lay siege to Doubleissima (5.10b). I probably should have bowed out of this one, and just let Adrian and Gail do it while I rested up for Ridicullissima. But I couldn't turn down a lap on the best 5.10 in the world!


(Photo: Getting into the steepness on Ridicullissima (5.10d). Photo by Gail.)

I think following Doubleissima made me tired.

But I didn't know it yet. I stepped up for my big project, Ridicullissima. I thought I remembered my gear beta and the crux moves from two weeks before. And it really went pretty well, for a while. I placed every piece I wanted and moved efficiently up to the crux. It was steep and pumpy, as expected, but I was managing. I sank in my key nut and got through the crux sequence. Grabbing the shelf below the small roof I moved left to the magic toehold I remembered.


(Photo: Placing gear at the crux on Ridicullissima (5.10d). Photo by Gail.)

At this point I should have been golden-- the hardest moves were over-- but I quickly realized I was screwed. I didn't have the guns. I was flaming out below the roof and there was no way to place the piece that I needed. There was a great horizontal crack right in front of my face but I knew I didn't have the strength to let go with one hand and put in a cam. I was pretty certain my crux nut was good (I'd hung on this same nut the last time) and that the fall would be clean, but I was going to cover some distance. The the gear was below my feet. I was looking at bit of a whipper.


(Photo: After the crux on Ridicullissima (5.10d), about to tackle the overhang. Photo by Gail.)

I remember yelling something about coming off and then I took the fall. It was a clean fall, as I'd expected and hoped, and apparently it made for exciting viewing! Adrian told me that people were talking about it.

After a bit of a rest I climbed through the crux again and finished the pitch.

We dialed it back a bit for the rest of the day.


(Photo: Adrian on Bonnie's Roof (5.9).)

I was back the following Sunday with Olivier and I was determined to put Ridicullissima to bed.

I thought about just hopping on Ridicullissima first thing, but even though we arrived early there was a climber on it, top-rope soloing the route! We met him later; a very nice fellow named Jeremy.

Looking around for other options, I decided to lead Insuhlation (5.9) as our warm-up.

Insuhlation and I have a history together. I broke my ankle on this climb when I took a lead fall at one of the finishing roofs in 2009. After the accident I spilled a lot of ink over it and was set back in my leading for almost two years. Ever since, I have avoided the climb, fearing and dreading it. Part of me has wanted to return to it to vanquish whatever anxiety it still causes in me. But another part of me has thought it would be unwise to tempt fate by climbing it again. What if it all went wrong again and I got injured?

Seriously: what kind of idiot gets himself injured twice on the same climb??

As a great man once said, "Fool me once, shame on..... shame on you? Fool me twice...... uhm, you can't get fooled again!"

The point is that I didn't want to get fooled again by Insuhlation.

But people I respect have told me that Insuhlation is a perfectly reasonable 5.9. I have done the other climbs on this buttress (Obstacle Delusion (5.9) and Teeny Face (5.10a)) and I really like them. I've been feeling more solid than ever before lately. So why not get it over with and put Insuhlation behind me?

It turned out fine. This is a good 5.9! I couldn't make any sense of it. It didn't match my memory. The cruxy bits at the end involve straightforward, steep moves over two overhangs. There are jugs. In 2009, there was a wet hold that was sort of like a keyhole and then another mediocre edge that I slipped off of when I fell. In 2015, I couldn't find these bad holds! All the holds seemed great. And the pro was good.

What happened to the climb of my nightmares? Did someone secretly chip out some new juggy holds with a chisel?


(Photo: Olivier at the final roof on Insuhlation (5.9).)

I guess I'm just a different climber than the guy who hurt himself on this climb almost six years ago. I was in over my head back then. I am definitely a much better climber today, and I hope I'm a much better judge of my own capabilities as well.

The climb is nice, though I think I like Obstacle Delusion and Teeny Face more. Insuhlation is the most straightforward of the three, with a 5.8 overhang right above the big tree and then the one-two punch of 5.9 steepness at the end.


(Photo: Olivier scoping out the 5.8 move around the nose on the first pitch of Directissima.)

With Insuhlation finished, Olivier and I walked over to Ridicullissima to find it open. But there was a party on Doubleissima and we didn't want to be right on top of them. Olivier had a good idea. He led the first 5.8 bit of Directissima and then once he rounded the corner he set up a belay on the ramp directly below the start of Ridicullissima, and I took it from there. This worked out well.

This time around I finally got the send. The third time was the charm. It still wasn't easy.

I felt fresher than the last time but I upped the difficulty level by placing more gear in the crux. Even though I knew my key nut was good I wanted higher pro so I stepped up into the crux and hung in there while I worked out an Alien placement a few feet above the nut. I was glad to have this higher piece but it came at a cost.

I was hurting as I moved left to the notch below the roof but this time I was able to keep going, placing a piece and moving up. I almost blew it at the overhang. I really wanted to get over it and I rushed it, nearly taking a fall. But I hung on and stepped down, cursing. Shaking out, I resolved to set my feet better and then powered up to the stance. With just 40 feet of 5.8 between me and the ledge I knew I could finally relax. It was a great feeling.


(Photo: Getting the send on Ridicullissima (5.10d). Photo by Jeremy, the top-rope soloist.)

By the time we got back down I was hungry for more.

I've recently been sort of fascinated with a climb called Nurse's Aid. I'd never been on it. Both pitches are supposed to be great. The first pitch has a somewhat scary 5.9 face and then a well-protected 5.10c roof. The second pitch ends with what I'm told is a spectacular traverse out a horizontal crack over big air. It is rated 5.10a but the incredible exposure almost renders the grade immaterial.


(Photo: Unknown climber on the wild traverse at the end of pitch two of Nurse's Aid. I took this photo in 2010 while I was rapping off of Limelight (5.7).)

I've been attracted to pitch one of Nurse's Aid because I have really come to enjoy thin 5.9 faces at the Gunks, on climbs such as Proctoscope and Turdland. And the 5.10c Nurse's Aid pitch one roof looked huge and exciting from below. Seemed like an awesome challenge.

When I suggested it to Olivier, he seemed worried for me. He'd followed this pitch and he felt that the pro was hard to place during the 5.9 face. He also recommended I take his purple Number 5 Camalot for the wide crack just before the business. I looked in the guidebook and saw that Dick recommends a black Camalot for this section. I thought the black cam was the old-style Number 4 so I took my new-style Number 4 instead of Olivier's Number 5.

I should have listened to Olivier and taken the Number 5. I headed on up, negotiating a lot of crapola rock in the first 50 feet of the pitch, and staying to the right of a poison ivy patch (!!) behind the big boulder sitting on a ledge. I started to wonder if this climb was really a good idea. Then I arrived at the beautiful orange and white face beneath the roof. I got my Number 4 into the wide horizontal at my feet but the cam was a little bit too small. I had to place it off to the right where the crack narrowed a bit but the cam was still kind of tipped out. A Number 5 would be perfect right beneath the moves, though even with an ideal placement at your feet, if you blew the first moves up onto the thin face you'd hit the ledgy stuff below. There's no avoiding it.


(Photo: Alex Honnold (see below) on the first pitch of Nurse's Aid (5.10c). My friend Maryana took this photo after Olivier and I left the area. Honnold is standing right where it starts to get serious, and according to Maryana he had not yet found it necessary to place any gear.)

This is where you have to be careful. Two delicate moves up, and you have an opportunity for iffy/hard to place gear. I managed to get what I thought was a good Alien in a strange pocket. It was still another easy-does-it move up before I got undeniably solid pro, and then came a really excellent thin traverse to the left with tiny crimps before the move up to the big roof.

This was great climbing, very committing. A little heady, with fun technical moves. It could have ended there beneath the overhang and I would have been happy. But there was more: a solid 5.10 roof problem. Some big reaches with outstanding gear, and then a very airy step to the right over the void and into an easier hanging corner which takes you to the GT Ledge.

This is a huge pitch up to the GT Ledge, with a ton of climbing on it. The first fifty feet is terrible and yet the overall experience is still amazing. I was proud to on-sight this pitch. It felt pretty damn good. I'm still on a high from it.

At this point I was fried. Neither Olivier nor I wanted to tackle pitch two.

The Sunday Gunks show was going on all around us. The Arrow wall to our left was a gridlocked nightmare. A leader was standing at the first bolt on pitch two of Arrow (5.8), waiting for a follower above, who was stuck at the second bolt, taking fall after fall.

When we got back down to the ground we found that some pro climbers were hanging out next to our packs, along with an entourage. They were in the Gunks as part of the ROCK Project, offering climbing instruction, participating in a clean-up day at the crag, and getting in a little climbing to top it all off.


(Photo: Brittany Griffith headed up Feast of Fools (5.10b) with Alex Honnold offering a belay of sorts.)

Pretty cool to see Alex Honnold at the Gunks. I heard he later did Nurse's Aid and looked bored, placing almost no gear. I'm pretty sure he didn't bring a Number 5 Camalot with him, but he managed to get by without it.

We didn't stick around to watch for very long. It was such a scene there at the Arrow wall and we just wanted to do a little more easy climbing before heading out.


(Photo: Olivier on Bloody Mary (5.7).)

I don't know what the rest of the year holds but so far 2015 has been has been very exciting and rewarding for me. Seems like all the work I put into fitness this winter is really paying off and that I'm breaking through to a new level. I feel great out there. I keep knocking on wood and pinching myself.

I can't believe it is about to get hot. I don't want the spring to end.

(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: Adam on The Spring (5.9).)

When last we spoke, I was telling you about how great I was feeling. Seemed like I was breaking through to a whole new level, and so on.

Blah, blah, blah.

Right after I clicked the "publish" button on that last post, I remembered a principle I learned during my years in cycling.

Call it "Seth's Law."

It's simple. It goes something like this:

When you feel like things are finally coming together; when it seems like everything is looking up and you are getting better and better and better....

That's when it all falls apart.

The instant you get that wonderful feeling, you have just hit your peak. Savor the moment, because you are about to head downhill, and you won't feel that good again for a while. It may appear that you are at the beginning, but you're actually at the end.

Sorry, friend: it's over.

Sounds harsh, doesn't it? Well, what can I say? Life is harsh.

I didn't make this law; I only discovered it.

After my last, very successful day in the Gunks I ran headlong into Seth's Law, for the umpteenth time in my life.

I was fooling around in the gym, doing a bit of aimless bouldering, and after throwing for a big hold I dropped to the floor and felt my left forearm go stiff. There wasn't a pop but I could tell something was strained. The forearm throbbed for days.

In my next few gym sessions I took it easy, trying not to aggravate it. But suddenly it seemed like my arm wasn't the only problem. Everything was hurting: my feet, my elbows. Nothing seemed easy any more.

My wife and I took a trip for our anniversary and I was glad to have a short rest from climbing. After several days of prodigious eating and drinking, I came home ready to get back to some serious climbing efforts, but I just didn't feel the same.

It was still only May but summer was upon us. I was meeting Adam to climb on the Sunday before Memorial Day and the temperatures were going to be in the high eighties. Was spring already over?

Adam and I expected crowds on this holiday weekend, so we walked out to the far end of the Trapps.

We didn't have any specific routes in mind but as we passed the Seasons area we could see there was no one there. Adam had never come this far down the cliff so there were plenty of new climbs in the vicinity for him to try. It occurred to me that I could maybe lead The Winter (5.10d). I'd tried to lead it last fall but it was wet and I hadn't liked the gear for the awkward low bits, so I'd backed off. I thought now maybe things would be different. The climb might be dry and I might be better.


(Photo: Adam on Bold-ville (5.8).)

Adam warmed us up with a nice lead of Bold-ville. It remains a high-quality, solid 5.8.

Then I decided to attack The Winter. Unlike the last time, the route was bone dry.

But the end result was the same: I backed off of it again. The route was different but I was not. I placed a piece and then worked my way into the awkward alcove right off of the ground. There is a wedged block that acts as the roof of the alcove, and I found it impossible to place a second piece before making the move to get out from under it. I was worried about a ground fall if I blew this move. I didn't want to commit to the move. So after stepping up and down several times I bailed again.

Giving up completely, I decided to lead The Spring and throw a rope over The Winter in order to really figure it out on top rope, so that maybe I could try one more time to lead it in the future. As I led the 5.9 first pitch of The Spring I realized this really wasn't my day. The Spring felt hard.

Blame it on the heat. Or Seth's Law.

(Photo: Adam in the crux corner on The Winter (5.10d).)

After we were done with The Winter we trooped on down to the Slime Wall. Again we had no real agenda. I didn't care any more about pushing my limits. It was hot and sticky and it didn't seem I was climbing terribly well. I just hoped to do something new.

Adam led the first pitch of WASP-- his first 5.9 lead! I gave him my beta for the magic Tricam placement just off the ground. Soon enough he got through all the hard moves and he was cruising up to the GT Ledge.


(Photo: Adam on WASP (5.9).)

Once I joined him there on the ledge I decided to lead Stubai to You, a variation pitch which heads to the right from the second pitch of WASP. This pitch veers off to a traverse below a roof and then vaults over the ceiling just right of an obvious notch. The climb used to be a sandbag 5.8+ but it is rated 5.9 in the most recent guidebook. I have considered leading it every time I've done WASP but I've never felt comfortable with the apparent lack of gear during the early parts of the pitch, when the route moves diagonally up the face above the GT Ledge to the roof.

This time around I went ahead and did it and it was quite worthwhile. The gear is a real issue. As you head to the right from WASP the moves aren't hard but the only place for pro comes at a little overlap with a thin horizontal crack. I couldn't work any of my small cams into the crack but I managed to slide in a small nut. It might have been good. It was hard to evaluate.

It was just one more move up to the roof, and once I reached the overhang there was ample gear for the traverse and the crux ceiling. It is a great roof problem and in my opinion it is definitely 5.9! Steep and exciting. Once you're over the roof it is easy to move up and right to the rap station on the Sticky Gate Direct tree.


(Photo: Adam coming over the roof on Stubai to You (5.9).)

When Adam and I got back to the ground we started looking around for something else to do. I started to examine the climb just to the left of WASP, called Coprophagia (5.10a). It gets no stars in the guidebook and has a VERY unappealing name. (Coprophagia is the ingestion of feces.) But the climbing looked awfully good to me. After moving left out of an overhanging corner the route follows a thin traverse to the right for about 20 feet before moving up a clean face with large blank sections between horizontals.

A group was next to us, going at Frustration Syndrome (5.10c), a route I'd worked hard to redpoint last year. One of the people in the group, a guy named Jerry, told me that the pro on Coprophagia was good. So I thought we might as well try it.

I liked the pitch a lot. It has a suprising amount of good climbing on it. The opening moves are steep and there is a cool sequence to get up to the little lip, under which you do the thin traverse. The traverse itself is technical and interesting, with just enough gear-- I wormed in another magic pink Tricam right before the hardest moves.

Unfortunately I was pumped out and puzzled at the crux move at the end of the traverse. I tried going too far right, then too far left, and finally took a hang. It was turning into one of those days. Our new friend Jerry-- who seemed absolutely thrilled that anyone besides himself was climbing Coprophagia-- offered me a tip on the crux move and then I sailed through it, and the rest of the pitch, feeling like an idiot. I had forgotten to mantel.

It is worth remembering: You can work out in the gym all winter and crush 5.12 pocket-pulling (for example), but that won't get you up an off-vertical slab. You need non-gym techniques for that. And when the time comes you have to remember to try those techniques! I need to go back for the send on Coprophagia. I am pissed about this one. It was easily within my reach.


(Photo: Having finished the difficulties, I'm traversing left off of Coprophagia (5.10a). Photo by Adam.)

At any rate, Coprophagia is a fun climb and I can't believe it doesn't get any stars in the guidebook. It is a worthy neighbor to all of the other face climbs on the Slime Wall. It is not as spectacular as Falled On Account of Strain (5.10b) but it is as entertaining as WASP and is certainly better than the rather lame Comedy in Three Acts (5.11a). The line wanders, but I would argue that this is part of the fun.


(Photo: Adam working through the steep start of Coprophagia (5.10a).)

Once you get past the difficult bits on Coprophagia you have several options. The most straightforward of these is to trend up and right until you merge with WASP to the GT Ledge. But you don't have to go that far if you don't want to. Once you are about level with the big tree which is off to the right atop the mound which marks the beginning of Sticky Gate, you can either traverse right to this tree or traverse left to the bolts above Frustration Syndrome. I chose to go left to the bolted anchor and it worked out fine, but the drag was pretty bad once I was lowered off. Probably the best thing to do is to build a gear anchor once you reach the easier territory, and then you can bring your partner up and afterwards traverse off in either direction.

Once we were set up on the bolted anchor we were well-positioned to finish our day with Frustration Syndrome and The Stand (5.11a).

I was keen to try The Stand. I've recently toyed with the idea of attempting it on lead-- I'm looking for my first Gunks 5.11-- but given how my Sunday was working out I was content to give it a top rope preview. Maybe with a little luck I could achieve the coveted top rope flash.

But it was not to be. I eventually got the very tricky crux stand-up move but it took me three tries.

The route is good but it is brief. There are a few steep moves up to a hanging corner and then a single crux sequence as you move up and around the corner to a perch on the tiny ledge atop it. The face above the corner looks entirely blank from below but is it, really? I'm not saying.


(Photo: Adam is doing the thin traverse on Coprophagia and you can also see almost the entirety of The Stand (5.11a)-- the crux hanging corner is visible to Adam's left, near the top of the photo.)

I think I can lead this route. The crux is very well protected. My main worry is that it may be difficult to get meaningful gear after the crux. There is a tiny horizontal crack after you step to the left. I think I can get something in there but it will be very small gear. After one more move the route is basically over.

As we ended the day I regretted not performing better and hoped it was just a temporary lull or an off day. Maybe we'll get a little more sending weather yet this spring and I will have a chance to redeem myself on all of these climbs Adam and I attempted on our swampy Sunday. Coprophagia should be a simple one to knock off now that I've done it once, and I believe in my heart of hearts that The Winter is within my reach. The Stand is less certain but I think it is a worthy project for the near term.

(Photo: Climbers on the seldom-climbed upper pitch of Beatle Brow Bulge (5.10a).)

This past week I was reminded of how much fun it can be to romp up easier multi-pitch classics in the Gunks. I got out twice with different partners.

On Thursday I took a day off from work to climb outside with several of the folks from my winter training program. Don McGrath, the leader of the program, came to New York from Colorado with his wife Sylvia, who is also a climber and who also participated in the program. I drove up to meet them in the Gunks with with another participant and fellow Brooklynite named Dave.

Dave has very little outdoor climbing experience so it was my privilege and mission to give him a pleasant introduction to trad climbing in the Gunks.


(Photo: Dave on Classic (5.7).)

Since it was a weekday we had our choice of routes.

From my perspective we had a great time on several classic moderates. We took our time and worked on things like belay commands, double-checking of systems, and rappel procedures.


(Photo: Dave on Rhododendron (5.6-).)

I hope Dave remembers the day the way that I do, and not (for example) as a never-ending death march of too many climbs.

Dave said he had fun. He also said he'd do it again, which is a good sign.


(Photo: Dave on Horseman (5.5).)

We tried to stay in the same general area as Don and Sylvia. Sometimes we all shared ropes and pitches and sometimes we did our own thing.


(Photo: Dave on Dennis (5.5).)

The only real surprise of the day for me was an obscure route called Three Pines (5.3). Perhaps you've heard of it? After you've exhausted all the other climbs in the Gunks you might get around to this hidden gem...

Dave and I ran up Three Pines on Thursday and it was only as I began the third pitch, off the GT Ledge, that I realized I'd somehow never done the route in its entirety before. I knew the first two pitches well. They are great fun, featuring super juggy climbing. They are easily combined into one long pitch. But the third pitch was new to me, and wow! Great exposure as you traverse to the right away from the main face of the cliff, above The Dangler and 150 feet of air. And then if you go directly to the top of the cliff with no wandering you will do a few nice 5.6 moves up a short bulge. Pretty cool.


(Photo: Dave on Three Pines (5.3, Direct Variation 5.6).)

Dave got a taste of the real trad experience on Three Pines, traversing out over all that air, alone and with his belayer out of sight and earshot. He performed admirably, getting through it all without stopping. By the time he reached the 5.6 face at the end of the pitch he was just about ready to quit, but he did not quit. It bodes well for his climbing future.

(Photo: Elizabeth on Cakewalk (5.7).)

Sunday was a special climbing day for me because I was getting together with my old partner Elizabeth for the first time in a long time. She used to be my go-to partner, back when I was working my way through the sixes and sevens and eights. We learned a lot about the Gunks together, having many adventures and misadventures along the way, some of which I've written about here.

Liz and I were together on what remains, for me, the best day ever. This was the day in 2009 on which we did CCK and Bonnie's Roof for the first time. Both routes were previously unknown to us. I had dreamed of attempting them some day, and then, without warning, "some day" came along and it turned out we were actually ready. On that day it seemed like a whole new world opened up to us.

The excitement of climbing, the physical and mental challenge, the tingly sensation of exposure over a great void, the realization that the Gunks is a magical place full of wonders... all of it was ours and it was brand new, as though we alone had discovered it.

The Gunks is still a magical place to me and I love it dearly, but sometimes I think every new challenge I set for myself is just a vain attempt to recapture the innocent bewilderment that I experienced on that awesome day back in 2009.

Elizabeth and I haven't climbed together recently because her life trajectory took her back to her hometown of Allentown, PA, where she settled down and had two babies. Climbing hasn't fit into her plans.

But she never lost the climbing bug, and a few weeks ago she asked me if I could meet her to climb for a day.

I was psyched.

We had a great time. Again, I hope I didn't push it too hard. We did a lot. Elizabeth struggled on some climbs but that was to be expected after her long time off. Considering it had been years since she climbed, she held up really really well.

We walked into the Trapps looking to do just about anything moderate that was open. After we knocked off Raunchy (5.8 and still a lot of fun) and Cakewalk (5.7 and great but a little run out in the initial face climbing), I saw that Balrog (5.10b) was just sitting there, available. I had attempted it in late 2012 but had to hang at the tough, burly crux moves up onto a slanting face above a roof. Ever since then I'd wanted to go back for the redpoint but whenever I came near Balrog it was either wet or occupied.

So on Sunday when I found Balrog just sitting there, dry and open, I couldn't resist it. I asked Elizabeth if she'd be cool with trying it. This was a harder route than I thought she would really be interested in doing. I hadn't planned on it. But she was okay with it so long as we followed it up with an easier multi-pitch classic.

Sounded like a great deal to me.

Balrog still wasn't easy but I got it done this time without a fall or a hang. I felt like I'd really improved in the 2.5 years since my last attempt. Reaching the holds above the roof was so much easier this time, and while I still grunted and worked hard to find a way to get my feet onto the sloped face above the roof, I was able to hang in there and eventually work it out. I still think I must be doing it wrong. It should be easier. But it is of no consequence! It is finished.


(Photo: Elizabeth battling the Balrog (5.10b).)

It was time for our muti-pitch classic. I thought immediately of Madame G's but when we got there there were several parties strewn all over it. It looked like a nightmarish situation. I thought we might as well check out Snooky's Return (5.8), which was nearby, though I had no illusions that we'd actually get to climb it. It is very popular.

When we got there it appeared that Snooky's just might be possible. Gavin and Jen, two climbers I've met at Gail's house, were about to clear out. No one was waiting. There was a group of climbers top-roping Friends and Lovers (5.9) next door. I felt we'd be within our rights to start up Snooky's without saying anything, but it seemed more considerate to ask the guys next door about their plans. If they wanted to TR Snooky's from the shared bolted anchor I didn't want to get in their way.

So I asked one of the climbers what they were going to do. I believe these were my exact words:

"Excuse me, sir, but I was wondering what your intentions are with regard to Snooky's Return?"

For some reason this gentleman thought my query was amusing.

I couldn't understand why.

Later, when the aforementioned amused person overheard me making an offhand remark about law school, he said that he "knew" Liz and I must be lawyers. I resented this. I don't know how a person can make such a cruel judgment based on something as trivial as the wording of a simple interrogatory.

Of course, it happens to be true that I am a lawyer (and so is Elizabeth). But to suggest that I sound like one? That's a horse of a color that is not dissimilar.

The next time someone says I sound like a lawyer, I just might sue.


(Photo: Elizabeth on pitch one of Snooky's Return (5.8).)

In any event, the top-ropers gave us their blessing and Elizabeth and I did Snooky's all the way to the top. It was a joy. The first pitch is the clear winner with its excellent, consistent face climbing. But pitch two is pretty darned nice as well. It has interesting face moves as you traverse left and then, a bit higher, back right. The line wanders but it presents itself as you move along.


(Photo: Elizabeth finishing pitch two of Snooky's Return (5.8).)

The top pitch too is worthwhile. From below it looks like a bushwhack up a dirty corner but there is a clean, steep traverse and roof escape hidden there. It is brief but pretty good.

After we were done with Snooky's, Liz was feeling kind of beat. She suggested maybe I should do another hard climb and she would sit it out and take a breather.

She didn't have to ask me twice. I was feeling really strong so I decided to try Coexistence (5.10d), the great Mac Wall testpiece.

The big one.

I thought maybe I could send it. I did it clean on top rope once.

As we were about to get started I got pretty nervous. People started appearing out of nowhere-- some of them known to me, some of them strangers-- saying "Ya gonna try Coex?? Good luck! Tough route!"

It was unnerving. I felt the weight of their eyeballs. I was a little bit tense about the runout 5.8 part up to the first ledge. Heck, I was a little bit tense about everything.


(Photo: Past the opening bit on Coexistence (5.10d). Here I'm just beneath the first ledge. The next move is very easy but if I blow it I'm probably hitting the ground.)

It didn't go too badly, but I didn't get the send. I worked my way upward, slowly and carefully. I placed lots of gear. It wasn't so bad getting to the first ledge. Then there were some interesting moves up the crack before the crux roof, but the protection was good and I worked these moves out without much trouble.

At the roof itself, I had a hard time committing. There is great gear; you just have to move up on some pretty crappy holds. It is hard to figure out. I did a lot of testing of holds before finally getting pumped out and taking a hang. After exploring a little more I figured out what to do and when I finally committed to going for it I got up and over the roof.

After it was over with I wished I hadn't been so tentative, but even if I'd really gone for it on my first foray above the roof I think I still would have failed. I needed to work out the beta, and this took me a few tries. I don't know what I did on top rope last year. It seemed like a different route on lead.

On the bright side, I think I have it worked out now and will, with luck, get the send next time. Coex felt easier to me than Ridicullissima, for sure. It is so much less sustained. I can't really see how it is harder than Try Again (5.10b), actually. Coex has much better climbing on it than Try Again, but the hard part is rather similar.

I made a mess out of the descent. I tried to clean the pitch on rappel, which presented a challenge since the route follows a crack with a slant. I attached myself to the side of the rope going through the gear so I wouldn't go too far from the pieces, but I found it very difficult to control the rappel and also pull myself over to the right so I could get at my gear. I should have had Elizabeth lower me while I retrieved the pro, or maybe I should have just lowered off entirely and then followed the pitch from the ground in order to clean it. Or we could have offered a burn on Coex to any of the twenty people who were around the Mac Wall at the time. That would have been better, and likely just as quick.

I ended up leaving a few of my pieces behind and the folks next to us on Try Again kindly retrieved them for me on their way down.

It was now after 5:00 and the cliff was clearing out. I wanted another good muti-pitch route for Liz and luckily we found Madame G's sitting completely empty.

It was a perfect way to end the day. I've previously described this climb as the best 5.6 in the Gunks-- now I think it might be the best climb in the Gunks, regardless of grade. It is just so great for such a long time. It offers fantastic juggy fun.


(Photo: Topping out on Madame G's (5.6) as the sun goes down behind the cliff.)

Standing atop the Madame G buttress, belaying Elizabeth up, I felt a renewed love for the Gunks, my hometown crag. Yes, the place gets crowded. But we got on some of the best moderates, on a gorgeous Sunday, without waiting for anything. You just have to be flexible and willing to climb whatever you find open at any given time. That's my secret: don't wait in line. Keep looking. You'll find something else that's good.

And do the upper pitches! Up above the first-pitch frenzy, a cool breeze is blowing. The birds are circling gracefully and Skytop cliff is visible in the distance. It is easy to get sucked into doing mostly single-pitch climbs, especially when you are looking for harder pitches to do. But there's a special pleasure to be found in getting up high off the deck. It took a couple of "easy" days for me to remember it. But this week I really felt the magic again.

(Photo: Elizabeth leading Horseman (5.5) in 2010.)

Editor's Note: 

What follows is a first for Climb and Punishment: a guest post! Written by Elizabeth, and published below without interference from me. It records her experience of our time climbing together this past Sunday. You can see my own impressions of the day here. The main difference between the two versions is that my account is true, while hers is full of lies. Don't believe her!

Please enjoy. I've thrown in some photos-- new and old-- just for fun.

Did you ever read A Walk in the Woods by Bill Bryson? Do you remember when Bryson’s buddy Katz shows up to hike a portion of the Appalachian Trail with him, and Bryson comments that Katz appeared to be coming from the other side of too many pancake breakfasts? So that’s me. You may remember me from Climb and Punishment fame as the pregnant and anemic belay b*tc@ of a few summers ago. I’ve climbed in the Gunks one time since then, in the fall of 2011. I’ve been to the gym twice since then. Also in the fall of 2011, I moved to an area of PA that does not have a local climbing gym and where the outdoor climbing that’s worth anything is, well, the Gunks. A few years and two kids later I am lucky to get away for a yoga class or a quick run or bike ride from the house, so climbing has regrettably been on the back burner. Meanwhile, Seth has been devoting his spare time to climbing and has become more than a respectable Gunks climber. I am jealous. 



(Photo: Elizabeth on The Last Will Be First (5.6) in 2011.)

I hope that in an act of pity he will agree to take me climbing for the birthday/Mother’s Day present I have convinced my husband to give me. Seth is the quite the sucker and he agrees.

Seth and I met at Chelsea Piers one fall when I was in law school in the City and a recent transplant from Boulder. I was missing Climbing Town, USA, and feeling isolated from my climbing buddies but decided to get out there and sit at the wall until someone noticed this lonely, lost soul haplessly trying to boulder. Enter Seth. He walked up to me sitting on the crash mat and said, “Do you want to climb with me?” It was like that Lifesavers commercial with the two little kids. My eyes went wide. “A climbing partner?"

(Photo: A climber named Nina leading Easy V (5.3), in between rain storms.)

I take it all back.

Remember when I said I had Coexistence (5.10d) all worked out-- and would maybe send it on my next try?

I even said it wasn't ridiculously hard. It's pretty much like Try Again (5.10b), I said.

I must have lost my mind.

I've been back twice since then and I still haven't gotten Coex clean. I haven't come close. If anything, I feel further away from sending it now than I did before I tried it the first time!

I went back with Gail the very next weekend, on a very hot and humid Sunday. The Mac Wall was quite literally baking in the sun, but I was determined to try Coex anyway. We warmed up on Higher Stannard (5.9-), one of my longtime favorites. For a change of pace I tried the 5.9 direct start, which is thin and without gear for three or four delicate moves. I'd never tried it this way before but I liked it. Dick Williams calls it R-rated in the guidebook but it isn't so bad. You can get a piece at the first horizontal a few moves up.

Everything went well and I was feeling good.


(Photo: Gail on Higher Stannard (Direct Start 5.9).)

Then we went directly over to Coex. I tried to relax, but I was very tense again. It was so hot, and I was really sweating as I negotiated the tricky 5.9-ish moves before the roof. They felt harder than before. Once at the crux, I thought I remembered my beta but I just couldn't get it to work. I must have fallen four times. I stubbornly kept trying the moves the same way, because my beta had been effective one week before! Finally something clicked and I got over the roof, feeling very frustrated.


(Photo: Gail at the roof on Coexistence (5.10d).)

I was back again on the very next Saturday, with Olivier. It was expected to rain in the afternoon but the morning was dry and with the changing conditions it was reasonably cool at the cliff. I thought maybe this time I would sail right over that Coex roof.


(Photo: Olivier getting us warmed up on Something Interesting (5.7+).)

But the weather didn't make any difference. I still couldn't achieve the taste of victory on Coex. I fell several times, again. This time I tried to work to improve my beta, but eventually after approaching the problem from several different angles I still could just barely get over it using a very similar strategy to what worked for me the first time.

I think I have to accept that this is not a terribly high-percentage sequence for me. The crux is always going to feel desperate and I just have to try to hit it fresh and with confidence, and hope for the best.


(Photo: That's me approaching the crux overhang on Coexistence (5.10d). Photo by Olivier.)

Coex only has one really hard sequence on it-- but boy is it hard. I'm not ready to give up on it yet. I'm determined to go back again.

I've found that flailing away at Coex does have one benefit: it makes other 5.10 climbs feel a whole lot easier. Since we were right there, Olivier and I threw a top rope over Try Again (5.10b), the climb next door, and it was like a different world. I can't believe I described the cruxes as similarly difficult, just two weeks ago. I guess they are somewhat similar-- but having done both of them in one session, I'd say the Coex crux is much, much harder.

I also led Mother's Day Party (pitch one 5.10b) while I was there at the Mac Wall with Olivier and I think my experience on Coex helped me with that climb too. Mother's Day Party felt pretty reasonable to me.

This is another Mac Wall ten that I'd tried on top rope once before, but since it was three years ago I couldn't remember much of anything about the moves. I was going for the pseudo on-sight, you might say.


(Photo: Olivier getting started on Mother's Day Party (5.10b).)

I found this first pitch of Mother's Day Party to be really nice, nicer than some of the other Mac Wall tens, in that it isn't all about one roof move. But it is also more committing than some of the others. The pitch has two distinct cruxes. Both cruxes require hard moves above your gear. The first crux involves climbing up some crimpy flakes above a little overlap. The pro is at your shins as you do the move but there is a ledge not too far beneath you so it feels a little bit risky. I ended up placing three pieces in the horizontal crack at the overlap. Then I tested the move several times (until I was just about certain I had it) before firing through it.

The second crux involves steep climbing up a bulging green corner. There are two hard moves, each one leading to a juggy hold. I would have been very pleased to find a gear placement in between the two hard moves. But I couldn't find anything, so I had to carry on.


(Photo: Olivier showing off some fancy footwork in the steep green corner on Mother's Day Party (5.10b).)

After leading Mother's Day Party I remembered that three years before, when I top-roped it, I questioned whether I would ever feel confident enough to lead this climb. Yet on this day I'd just done it on a whim, without a second thought. It felt good to sort it out above the pro and to know throughout that it was all going to be fine. I tried to remind myself that this was great progress and that my constant suckage on Coex was not in vain.

It began to rain as Olivier and I finished Mother's Day Party, and though we waited it out and got in a few more pitches before our day was through, we didn't do anything really notable.

We took a jaunt up Asphodel (5.5), which I hadn't done in many years. It is a high quality, long pitch, up a giant corner. The upper third is kind of dirty and there is some junky rock up there. But before the route turns grungy it is very nice, with fun moves.


(Photo: A foggy view over to Skytop from atop Asphodel (5.5).)

Flashing back to my day with Gail one week earlier:

I was so excited to see how strong Gail is leading right now. She's been climbing a lot lately and pushing herself to take the sharp end more frequently.

Once she and I left the Mac Wall on our hot, sunny Sunday, we went looking for shady climbs, and we found several over the course of the afternoon. Gail led pitch one of Airy Aria (5.8) and I swear she reached the bolts at the end of the pitch in less than two minutes. She had no hesitation at all during the technical climbing up the polished corner. I'm sure I took longer to do the pitch than she did, and I was on top rope.


(Photo: Gail leading Airy Aria (5.8).)

Gail also led pitch one of Oblique Twique (5.8?). I tried gently to suggest that this pitch might not be the best choice. I reminded Gail that it is a one move wonder, that the move is difficult and strange, and that it is hard to protect without blocking the key hold. I did the climb way back in 2010. I had a lot of trouble with it then and have never wanted to return. But Gail shook off these warnings and got it done with nary a hiccup. She managed to place a whole nest of small nuts for the crux move, some of which might actually have held in the event of a fall.


(Photo: Gail leading Oblique Twique (5.8).)

In our hunt for shade Gail and I also found two climbs that were totally new for both of us.

We climbed Tangled Up And Blue (5.8), which goes up a chimney hidden behind a corner next to Simple Suff (5.10a). It is pretty gritty in the chimney (which comes as no surprise) and I got my knees all scratched up as I wormed my way tentatively up this pitch. I thought it was fun-- at least in retrospect! We don't have enough climbs like this in the Gunks. It is good practice for other climbing areas. There is good gear throughout.


(Photo: Gail approaching the chimney on Tangled Up and Blue (5.8). Looks good, doesn't it?)

We also did Lito and the Swan (5.9+), which was probably the highlight of the day for both of us. This climb is an overlooked gem right next to the ever-popular Double Crack (5.8). Lito and the Swan is similarly long, steep and interesting. I think this climb doesn't get done that much because of Dick's PG/R protection rating, which is a shame because there is a ton of great climbing on it.

After you start up at some blocky flakes, you will see two vertical seams heading upward. Be sure to move immediately to the one on the left-hand side. There is a great 5.9 sequence there, with good rock and some hidden holds.

Once you reach a pedestal with some loose blocks, you are at the second crux, a move up the face to the ceiling of a small alcove. There is gear here but I think the PG/R rating comes from the fact that a fall at this point risks a landing on the pedestal. I don't disagree with the rating, but I think there are many climbs in the Gunks with similar risks that are not given the PG/R rating. One example is Mother's Day Party! I don't think the PG/R rating should keep you from doing the climb. Just watch it when you step off the pedestal.

I thought Lito and the Swan had good gear overall, and maybe this was just the Coex effect coming into play again but I thought it was a reasonably straightforward 5.9. I don't know where the "plus" comes in. Gail felt the same way. Whatever its proper grade should be, Lito and the Swan is very worthwhile.

We are officially into summer now. I don't know how many good runs at Coex I might get before autumn but if we have a cool enough day in the near future I'm going to hit it again. I have to send the stupid thing so I can get on with failing to send The Stand (5.11a)!

(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.

UPDATE: Check out Kathy's blog post about our day together!

(Photo: That's me leading Le Teton (5.9?) on a hot July afternoon. Photo by Adam.)

June was the cruelest month.

Maybe not for everyone else. I'm sure there were many beautiful days. But I seemed to have a knack for picking the wrong days in June this year.

On my last trip out to the Gunks with Olivier, it rained in the middle of our day for about an hour. We still got to do some great climbing before the storm, so I wasn't complaining.

But on my next two planned weekend climbing days, I was rained out completely.

After that, I'm pretty sure I started complaining.

Things were getting desperate in a hurry. I had to do something.

I made a plan to take a day off of work on a Tuesday to climb with Emma. This was supposed to be a beautiful day and I drove up to the Gunks with great expectations. But we only did one climb before a cloud settled over New Paltz and started dumping rain on the cliffs! At first we ignored the mist, but as it started to really come down we went into town to wait it out and have lunch. I checked the radar and the whole region was clear, save for this one dark cloud sitting directly over New Paltz. It had to pass soon, right?

When it didn't let up after more than two hours we decided finally to call it off.

I wasted a vacation day for one pitch. That sucked.

I had to put it behind me and hope July would be better.

Adam and I were heading up to the Gunks on a hot and sweaty Saturday early in July. It was expected to be close to 90 degrees. I figured we should avoid my project, Coexistence (5.10d) (much as I wanted to jump on it), as it was sure to be baking in the sun.

I tried to be grateful that it was supposed to be a sunny day, whatever the temperature. Forget projects: we didn't have to do anything really hard. We could just have fun out there on easier stuff until we wilted from the heat.

I suggested we try Traverse of the Clods (5.9), which Adam and I had discussed before. The route starts from the GT Ledge in the same area as Hans' Puss (5.7). Adam was down with the plan. But first we needed to do some other climb in order to get up to the GT Ledge.

Recently I'd read on Mountain Project about the 5.8 first pitch of Man's Quest for Flight. (The top pitch is 5.11a). The climb is not popular. I was interested in checking it out, mostly because this pitch sits next to some of my favorite climbs, like Silhouette (5.7+) and Proctoscope (5.9+).

In the past when I've looked at the first pitch of Man's Quest it has seemed kind of dirty and uninspiring, and I've ended up walking away. But when I read a recent positive comment about the climb on Mountain Project it was enough to pique my curiosity about the route again.

I led the pitch. It begins beneath the huge corner ascended by Andrew (5.4). In the guidebook Dick Williams describes two different starts. If you diagonal up the left wall of the corner right away there are some steep 5.8 moves. Alternatively, you can move up the Andrew corner just a little bit and then head left at 5.6. I chose to do the 5.6 start because I found gear that way. It was steep and fun, although I had to fight past a small bush to get started.


(Photo: Adam on the slightly grungy Man's Quest For Flight (Pitch 1 5.8).)

Once I got around the outside arete and onto the face it was easy to find the route; you just have to stay between Silhouette and the corner. It isn't bad. There is a nice 5.7/5.8 cruxy sequence up through a bulge in orange rock. But it is a little bit dirty, and it is always difficult to resist the temptation to move a few feet left to Silhouette's beautiful, clean crack system.

If this route got some more traffic it might get cleaned up and become a fine climb. But even if it were cleaner I'd still say Man's Quest is nothing special.

Now that we were on the GT Ledge it was time for us to climb Traverse of the Clods.

(Photo: I'm leading Traverse of the Clods (5.9). I'm just starting to traverse to the right after clearing two small overhangs. Photo by Adam.)

This is an interesting and intimidating route. In the guidebook it is described as two pitches. The first pitch (5.8) starts out heading more or less straight up, but soon enough you embark on a 50-foot traverse to the right, which ends at a hanging belay in beautiful white rock amidst the the roofs of Twilight Zone.

(Photo: Adam starting up Traverse of the Clods (5.9).)

The second pitch is short, but it is the crux. You move up over a small overhang and then do another traverse to the right, following a little foot ledge until it ends, and then doing a thin 5.9 sequence to reach a jug. From the jug you exit straight up over a notched roof to the top.

I found the first pitch to be a bit necky and route finding was sometimes a challenge. Please avoid the death block that is just sitting on a shelf with a piton driven beneath it! That thing is freaky.

Once you wander up and past two overhangs and start traversing the moves are very nice and the rock is great. I always found myself wishing I could find a little more gear but it wasn't a horror show. The crux for me was at a point about a halfway across the traverse where I had to make a delicate step down to continue. Once I was through this move I was relieved to see that the hanging belay wasn't too much further.


(Photo: Adam confronting the crux step-down move on the first pitch of Traverse of the Clods (5.9).)

I was feeling mentally fried by the time I finished pitch one, and as Adam tiptoed his way over to me I seriously considered bailing on pitch two. It is easy to escape the route from the hanging belay. You can go straight up instead of continuing the traverse. It is only 5.6 to the top if you go this way. But after a little prodding from Adam I went ahead and led pitch two and it turned out to be very exciting and worthwhile. A couple of thin moves over a big void will get you through it. The gear for the crux is tiny-- I had a black Alien, a small sideways nut, and a blue Alien in the little tips crack at the back of the roof. It was hard to tell if any of this gear was actually solid. I later read that Dick Williams recommends Ballnutz.

After Traverse of the Clods was in the bank I didn't have much ambition left. I was already spent. Luckily Adam had a whole list of classics he was eager to lead and since it was so hot we didn't have too many other parties to contend with. We spent the rest of our day on a parade of three-star climbs, knocking off the upper pitches of Annie Oh! (5.8) and Three Doves (5.8+), as well as both pitches of Modern Times (5.8+) and Bonnie's Roof (5.9). These were all on-sight leads for Adam, except for Modern Times, which I led. (I had to step up and lead something at some point.)

Looking back, this was a pretty amazing, fifteen star day.


(Photo: Adam at the classic photo op on pitch two of Bonnie's Roof (5.9).)

This past Saturday Adam and I got out again. It appeared we might be wasting our time. Rain was predicted for the afternoon. We hoped it would hold off long enough for us to at least do a few pitches.

As we drove up from NYC things looked very bad for us. It rained almost the whole way up. Adam kept checking the weather on his phone, insisting that in New Paltz it was not raining. I told myself that the fact that it was raining in Sloatsburg didn't mean a thing-- it is always raining in Sloatsburg! I'd had good luck with this sort of gamble before. But while externally I tried to project confidence, I was dying inside. I felt that we were sure to be shut out. There was no way this rain wasn't hitting the cliffs. The feeling grew stronger as we drove on and the rain did not let up. It was still raining as we left the Plattekill rest stop, just a few miles south of Exit 18.

At 9:00 a.m., my wife sent me an email telling me that it was pouring in the city and asking if we were still going climbing.

Against all odds, we were.

We pulled into town to see a band of fog hanging over the cliffs. But, miracle of miracles, it wasn't raining in New Paltz. The streets were dry. We were in business. And as we drove into the Stairmaster lot I took a look at my dashboard and saw that the temperature outside was a mere 68 degrees.

This was sending weather, my friends.

We probably wouldn't see such favorable conditions again until mid-September.

Time was of the essence. It could rain at any moment. We gathered our stuff and marched up the steps, heading directly to the base of Coex.

I realized something recently about my struggle with this climb. It occurred to me that every time I've done the route I've ended up finishing it the same way. But even though I know what to do, I still find it hard to execute, and it feels like I'm on the verge of popping off when I try it. The feeling that I'm about to fall makes me stop, hang, and look for other options. But ultimately I fail to find a better way and I come back to square one and commit to the one way I know that works for me.

This time I said NO MORE. I vowed to stick to my beta and commit to it on the first try. I told myself that if I could just keep going, keep moving my feet up, no matter how bad the holds felt, I would get through it. Maybe.


(Photo: That's me at the crux on Coexistence, once again (5.10d). Photo by Adam.)

I got up to the roof, feeling pretty solid. I placed my crux gear. I stepped up and clipped one of the pins. I stepped back down to shake out. I got myself mentally prepared. Then I announced I was going for it.

Hitting the good rail with my hands, I set my feet right where I wanted them. Then I grabbed the crappy left handhold. It felt a little bit slimy in the fog, but I held on. I reached for the shitty sidepull with my right hand, barely catching it.

"These holds are terrible," I thought, as I always do. "I'm about to slip off."

I drove these thoughts from my mind with one command: "Foot up foot up foot up! Get the right foot up! Keep going!"

I stepped up and-- lo and behold-- the sidepull improved, as it always does. And then in an instant I had the jug in my left hand and it was over. Success: a clean lead of Coex.

It took me only four tries.


(Photo: Getting ready to fire the crux on Star Action (5.10b). Photo by Adam.)

Some friends of ours from the gym, Alec and Liz, showed up just as I was finishing Coex. A few minutes later Josh and Tiff (who I met through Gail) also appeared. It was turning into a private party at the Mac Wall, all of us overjoyed that we were actually getting to climb.

I was feeling great after our first pitch, so once Adam finished with Coex, I led Star Action (5.10b), getting the redpoint without much trouble. I struggled on this route the first time I tried it last year-- and I wasn't even sure I wanted to go back, as I found it a little bit heady-- so I was very pleased that it felt pretty straightforward this time around. If you want to get solid at 5.10b, I've found the secret: start flailing away on 5.10d. It really helps.

The crux of Star Action is awesome. The move up to the jug over the roof is hard, and the step left to the corner afterwards takes willpower and technique. But in my opinion the route is all about that crux roof. The rest of the climb is less interesting. I can't say it's one of my favorites.

Since we were there on the right side of the Mac Wall we decided to throw a top rope over Graveyard Shift (5.10d/5.11a), another testpiece 5.10d which many say should be a 5.11. I thought maybe it could be the next project for me. But several people have cautioned me about the gear being all small stuff and hard to place, so I thought it might be wise to give it a top rope preview. I'd never been on it before.

I got the coveted top rope flash but it was tough going all the way. It is a great pitch, with steep moves up a crack over a bulge, then some thin steps up the face to a little roof, which is followed by a burly sequence to get over it. There is not much in the way of stances. I think this would be a demanding lead for me.

After Adam and I were done with Graveyard Shift we watched Alec go for it on the sharp end.


(Photo: Alec leading Graveyard Shift (5.10d/5.11a). He's heading into the steep little bulge that presents the route's first crux.)

Alec told us he's been rehearsing for this one and you could tell; he was smooth as silk as he calmly led the pitch. He placed a lot of gear too, but it was all small, fiddly stuff. I'd like to get to his level on Graveyard Shift, some day. But I think my next project will be some other 5.11 with a shorter crux like The Stand or one of the Voids.

Our day was turning into an avalanche of hard climbs. The expected rain still hadn't materialized; in fact, the fog had lifted and now the sun was out. It was growing hotter by the minute.

Adam still hadn't had the chance to lead anything. He decided to do Birdie Party (Pitch 1 5.8+), including the long traverse over the flake to the MF bolts. He did a fine job on this on-sight lead, although he got a little bit lost on the traverse and wandered up to the Birdie Party pitch two roof before stepping down to the bolted anchor. He sorted it all out, though. It remains a great 5.8, with consistent thoughtful climbing.


(Photo: Adam on Birdie Party (Pitch 1 5.8+).)

I considered one more Mac Wall 5.10: Tough Shift (5.10a). I even started climbing it, but in the crux crack near the bottom I decided I wasn't feeling it any more. It was now sunny and rather hot. Things had gone so well. I didn't want to push too hard. After checking out the move a few times I decided to climb down and walk away. I'll attack it when I'm fresh, some other time.

Much better to do a scary 5.9!

I decided to lead Land's End, a notorious sandbag. Dick Williams gives it a rating of 5.9- G in his guidebook, but many people think it is harder than that and everyone agrees it has a significant runout past some very shaky flakes. Sounds good, right? I've always wanted to check it out.


(Photo: Adam following Land's End (5.9-).)

As I led the route I had to agree with the grumblers. It felt like a solid 5.9 to me, with steep moves over the initial roof and then a strenuous, awkward undercling traverse at the upper crux. In between the cruxes the route is quite run out. And there is loose rock all over the place, not just at the fragile flakes. I can't recommend this climb. It is dangerous.

And yet.....

This short pitch has a ton of fun climbing on it. I'm just saying.


(Photo: I came within inches of stepping on this four-foot snake as we walked over to the Guide's Wall from Land's End.)

It was now mid-afternoon and we had no plans. We walked down the cliff, looking for a climb for Adam to lead. I was ready to dial it back and do something easy. I half-heartedly suggested Hawk (5.4), but we kept walking.

As we passed the Madame G buttress we saw that Le Teton (5.9) was in the shade. Suddenly I got excited again. It was irresistible to me.

Adam led quickly up Northern Pillar (5.2) to the pedestal at the start.

I followed Le Teton once before, in 2011, but I never wrote about it. I remembered it as pretty tough for the first fifteen or twenty feet. The route is on you from the first moment you step onto the wall. The feet are thin as you work your way up an overhanging crack on the face to a juggy traverse. Once you get out to the arete it's all air beneath you and easy steepness to the top of the Madame G buttress. The route is challenging and thrilling, but when it's all over you wish it were a little bit longer. You want those jugs to go on forever.


(Photo: Adrian in the finishing jugs on Le Teton (5.9) in 2011.)

Ever since 2011 I've wanted to lead it. I never made it a priority because I've always been a little bit intimidated by those tough opening moves.

But not this year.

This year I knew it would be fine. And I think that's the difference between this year and all previous years, for me. It is mental more than physical. I'm sure I could have climbed better when I led Le Teton this past Saturday. I was tired and it was hot. I fumbled in the vertical crack. I failed to clip the fixed nut. I threw in a desperate cam and then hucked for the jugs.

But through it all I knew I wasn't going to let go and that all was right with the world. As I reached the arete and took in the fantastic exposure I thought of Le Teton as a metaphor this whole year. It has been a great ride so far with one highlight after another. I want to keep pushing further but I know soon I'll reach a barrier I can't pass-- I'll get shut down by a project, or the season will end with no further progress-- and then I'll look back and think the ride was great but that it ended too soon.

I want the jugs to go on forever.

(Photo: Inspecting the crux corner on The Stand (5.11a). Photo by Gail.)

I have been remiss. I have let a more than a week go by without reporting my big news:

I led a 5.11 in the Gunks.

Let me try that again:

Holy Toledo, I led a 5.11 in the Gunks!

If you know what I've been up to, this news won't come as a big surprise. Breaking into trad 5.11 has been one of my goals this year. I've been working towards it all season.

I chose The Stand (5.11a)-- again, not a shocker. I've been talking about this climb for months. I even gave it a top-rope preview back in May in preparation for my lead attempt.

I didn't think it would happen before September. Right now we are in sleepaway camp season, during which I'm usually not able to take very many climbing days. While the kids are away, my wife and I tend to do things together on the weekends which do not involve climbing. This year is no different. After dropping our son at his camp in New Hampshire we spent several days hiking in the White Mountains.

But right before we drove out of town with my son, I got a last-minute invitation from Gail to climb in the Gunks on a Thursday. I really couldn't afford to take the vacation day... but when I saw that the weather was going to be just about perfect I couldn't resist the opportunity.

Gail knew all about my goals and she proposed that we head down to the Slime Wall so that I could take a run at The Stand, which I had already named as my likely next target when I finally knocked off my last project, Coex.

When Gail and I got to the cliff we didn't waste any time. I knew that if I didn't hop on this thing early in the day, I'd likely lose my mojo and decide against trying it. So after we did a quick warm-up climb I got set up for The Stand.

The route has just one crux sequence. It is an unusual move, requiring flexibility, balance and patience. You can see it from the ground. A shallow, left-facing corner hangs on the wall about twenty feet up. The face to the right and above the corner is nearly vertical. It appears to be smooth, like glass. After you climb up to where your hands are atop the corner, you must swing over to the right and get one of your feet up to where your hands are. (No problem!) Once you've accomplished that, you have to figure out how to shift your weight to your high foot and gently rise up to a standing position on the smooth slab.

This is the namesake "Stand."

I wasn't too worried about protecting the crux. There is good gear there at your hands before you start the sequence. But by the time you make the stand-up move, the gear is at the level of your feet, so it is a bit spooky.

I was a little more concerned about the gear AFTER the crux. I remembered (from my top-rope preview) finding a tiny horizontal seam when I stepped left just after the crux move. I recalled that there was another hard move above this little crack, and I worried that when I led the climb, if I couldn't get gear in that seam, I would start to freak out. Also, I knew there was another hard move at the beginning of the pitch, right off the ground. I had no idea if it was easy to protect this move or not. I would have to climb up there and find out.

When I racked up for The Stand I brought some little C3's with me (in addition to my usual small Aliens) for the tiny seam.

Heading upward, I immediately started playing the old up-and-down game, climbing into, and then out of, the initial bulge just off the ground. As I'd remembered, I found a hard move there (probably 5.10a?), pulling up through this opening bulge, and I didn't want to go splat right off the deck at this first challenge.

After several reconnaissance missions, I was able to slot a good nut over my head in the vertical handhold above the bulge, and with this pro in place I made the move, getting up and over it. From here I found easier climbing and plentiful protection up into the crux corner.


(Photo: Approaching the crux corner on The Stand. Photo by Gail.)

Now it was time for the actual 5.11 climbing. Once I'd attained three good placements (!) at the top of the corner, I got started figuring out the move. Back in May, on top rope, I eventually got over this move but it took me three tries. This time I really wanted to get it without a fall.

I'm pleased to tell you that it all worked out, though not without a tiny bit of drama.

Turns out, you can get fully into the "stand" move on The Stand and still climb back down out of it if you don't think you're going to make it. This makes the climb a pretty good lead, I think. The move is very tricky but if you are patient you can work it out before really committing all the way. I went up and down, getting a little bit higher each time, and then finally I could feel it was juuuust right as I shifted my weight over my toe and slowly stood up-- and it was over.


(Photo: After "The Stand" on The Stand. Photo by Gail.)

Except it really wasn't over. After feeling a great rush of joy, which lasted for about five seconds, I started getting really jittery. I still had to make a very thin move to the left and pray that I could find gear there in the little horizontal seam. I had to protect the next sequence, a hard step up the blank face to a wide horizontal. Once I moved over, I actually got a few pieces of pro in the little crack, much to my relief, but then I found it so hard to calm myself down for the move up.

Eventually I did make the move. But then I found the next one to be very hard too! There was another tough move up blank rock between another set of these spaced horizontals. I'm sure these moves weren't as hard as they seemed. Nobody talks about them. But I was feeling a lot of pressure. My 5.11 send was within reach but not in the bag. I did not want to fail. I kept trying different ways to reach the next horizontal and, feeling like I was about to blow it, I would step down and start over again.

Would it ever end?

Finally I remembered to breathe. I shut down the sewing-machine leg, committed to the move and made it up to where I could traverse left to the bolted anchor.

I had done it: I led The Stand without a fall or a hang. It was a clean 5.11 lead. I think I took more time negotiating the final two moves than I did on the whole rest of the climb, but who cares? It was in the bank; a great success.


(Photo: Gail at the big reach over the initial bulge on The Stand.)

It was worth it. But I was pretty whipped from the mental strain. Later I tried for the redpoint on Simple Suff (5.10a) and I ended up having to hang at the same move where I failed the last time I tried it, almost two years ago. I have to go back and get the send on this one, soon. It is annoying. This climb seems to have my number. I find it very sustained and tiring.

Gail and I also tried some climbs that were new to us.


(Photo: Gail leading Sticky Gate (5.4).)

Our warm-up for the day was the first pitch of Sticky Gate (5.4), at the right end of the Slime Wall. I've enjoyed nearby climbs like Wasp (5.9) and Coprophagia (5.10a), as well as the upper pitch of Sticky Gate off the GT Ledge, which the guidebook calls Sticky G Direct (5.7). But neither Gail nor I found much to like about the first pitch of Sticky Gate. The climbing is unremarkable and there are some scary stacked blocks just to your right as you go through the middle of the pitch. It's also kind of run out down low. I don't think I'll come back to it.

We also did Hooky (5.6). Don't bother with this one. There's nothing really interesting about it. It is dirty and wandery, with some crapola rock.

Finally, we did an interesting link-up of Double Crack (5.8) with the second pitch of Uphill All the Way (5.8). This combination of pitches is given no stars in the guidebook but it has a lot of good climbing on it. It is the only practical way to approach the second pitch of Uphill All the Way, since the first pitch of that climb is a 5.12 testpiece that finishes at a fixed anchor way off to the left. Getting to this neglected second pitch from Double Crack is much more direct and makes a lot more sense.

When you do this linkup you get to do the hardest and best part of Double Crack: the first thirty feet. Then you traverse left along the obvious horizontal to a large set of flakes. There are some cool moves up these flakes, which lead to a small belay stance at the corner. I decided to continue, doing the whole linkup as one pitch, but this was a mistake. I had horrendous drag at the top. Next time I will split it up and belay at the stance.

After this optional belay the climb follows Uphill All the Way up and left through a bulge in orange rock. This is the 5.8 crux of the second pitch and the moves are very good. The pro is spaced, however, and there are several fragile flakes and plates on the wall here. Be very careful. After the crux bulge the rock improves and an easy roof is followed by a long diagonal traverse back right to the corner again. Finally you do some steep juggy reaches to a ledge with a tree, maybe thirty feet lower than the Double Crack tree.


(Photo: Gail finishing Double Crack/Uphill All the Way (5.8).)

Despite the questionable rock through the crux, we both enjoyed the route. The climbing on this linkup is very interesting and there are some exciting situations. I would do it again. Bring doubles for the rap, or if you use a 70 meter rope (as we did) you will probably just barely touch down. A 60 meter single rope definitely will not make it. Watch the ends if you use a 70, and angle your rap up the hill for the landing.

I'm still kind of in disbelief about The Stand. Having knocked off my first 5.11 lead, I have to decide if I'm ready for a tougher one: Carbs and Caffeine (5.11a). Though Carbs has the same difficulty rating as The Stand, it is a much bigger undertaking. I've never been on it, but I understand it has a hard roof followed by a desperate, hyper-exposed crab-crawl traverse to the finish. There will be no top-rope preview of this one. I've got to just walk up to it and try to do it.

I think I am prepared for it and I there is no question in my mind that I can attack it safely. So when we see some favorable conditions in a month or so it will be high on my list. I'm excited just thinking about it.

(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.

UPDATE: Check out Kathy's blog post about our day together!

(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 down, 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.