(Photo: Adam approaching the first belay on The Time Eraser (5.10-).)

It has been a while, my climbing comrades.

Although you haven't seen any posts from me, I have been climbing. I got out to the Gunks on a few of those hot days we always have in August. It was nice to be climbing, despite the oppressive temperatures and the humidity. But I wasn't going to push it on days like these, and I didn't do anything much that was new or exciting.


(Photo: My partner Andy working on To Be or Not To Be (5.12a) on a brutal Sunday in August. This wasn't much fun in the slimy heat. What on Earth were we thinking??)

The highlight of the summer was a trip I took with my family to the Dolomites in Italy, at the end of August. We had a wonderful time in this gorgeous outdoor playground. Most of our time there was spent hiking, but while we were in the area I was able to steal away for one day of rock climbing with a guide.

My hired gun, Lucas, works with the well-established Catores guide service. I knew the guide's rules would prohibit him from letting me lead any pitches, and I suspected Lucas would not be too keen on taking an untested partner up a route that was truly challenging. So I just told him I wanted a long route that would get us high in the mountains. Lucas more than delivered with the Vinatzer Route on the third Sella Tower. It was exactly the kind of adventure I was hoping for, with more than a thousand feet of fun climbing up a dramatic, steep face, ending at an exposed summit with panoramic views.


(Photo: My guide, Lucas, in the foreground, leading us to the Sella Group. The Vinatzer Route ascends the tallest pillar-- the one with the flat top-- in the middle of the formation.)

This route is a classic multi-pitch outing (established in 1935!) with maybe three crux moments in the 5.7 to 5.9 range during the early pitches. The climbing is otherwise casual and mostly very pleasant, with the pebbly, featured limestone providing lots of obvious horns and pockets to grab on to. It is a popular trade route, crowded and at times polished.

(Photo: View across the pass to the Sassolungo Group from the summit of our route.)

The belay anchors were another cause for concern. They were pretty junky. The standard anchor seemed to be two rusted pitons, sometimes with a sling tied through them in a "death triangle." Usually Lucas would add a piece or two, which made me feel a bit better.

The descent, too, was a little bit sketchy for my tastes. I knew that with Lucas leading the way we'd have no trouble, but if I'd been on my own I would have liked to have had a detailed topo for the improbable "fourth-class" scrambling we had to do on loose gravel slopes and the occasional rappels from single-point anchors.

Apart from the general sketch factor, I loved the route and would gladly return to the area for more rock climbing. I felt like the climb provided a great day in the mountains and I would have been fine to lead every pitch we did. I'm sure there are many, many moderate routes in the area of similar character and quality. Maybe some day I'll plan a trip back there with a partner and I can do a bunch of them.

Once we returned to New York I planned a weekend day in the Gunks with Adam. The weather was supposed to be outstanding. The favorable forecast made my thoughts turn to Millbrook, which you could call the Dolomites of the Gunks, due to its alpine feel and occasional looseness. I've been wanting to get back to Millbrook all year. I figured time was of the essence, since the days were only going to get shorter over the remainder of the season.

We got to the West Trapps trailhead nice and early but as Adam checked over his gear in the parking lot it suddenly dawned on me that I couldn't remember putting my harness in my bag! A quick search confirmed that I had indeed left it behind in Brooklyn. Thank goodness I realized it before we embarked on the hour-long hike out to Millbrook. I would have had to improvise a swami belt.

After a quick run to Rock and Snow for a new harness we got back to the lot and headed off to the cliff.

I had several ideas for us. I figured we would stay in the central part of the cliff near Westward Ha! (5.7), since Adam had never been there before. I had done Westward Ha! and Cruise Control (5.9) two years ago, but I was happy to do them again. I also had in mind some nearby routes that would be new to both of us, such as Rib Cracker (5.9), The High Traverse with the Recollection finish (5.8), The White Corner (Regular 5.9 or Direct 5.10), and most of all The Time Eraser (5.10-).

As you probably know, I've been trying to push my limits all year. While I believed that The Time Eraser's difficulty wasn't at the top end of my current abilities, it was a new level for me at Millbrook. Knowing how far away we'd be from help at Millbrook, I saw the cliff as no place to risk a bad fall. The prospect of a complicated rescue situation was always at the back of my mind when I considered routes at this cliff. I did not want to attempt any 5.10's there unless I felt very confident that I would climb them safely and in control.

And The Time Eraser in particular has a reputation as a serious lead, with thirty to forty feet of insecure, poorly protected 5.8 climbing at its start. So it merited special caution.

I thought I was ready. But who knew how I would feel once we reached Millbrook?


(Photo: Millbrook cliff, seen from our rappel point not far from Westward Ha! and The Time Eraser. You can actually see the crux section of The Time Eraser in the photo. It is the steep, clean vertical streak of rock towards the left edge of the visible portion of the cliff.)

Despite our delayed start Adam and I were the first to arrive at Millbrook and we used Westward Ha! as our warm-up. I started us off from the Death Ledge and led a short pitch past junky rock to the tree at the bottom of the big corner. From there Adam took it to the top in one lead containing all of the good climbing. My opinion of the route remains about the same: it is a fine climb, well worth the hike. But there are other options nearby which are even better.


(Photo: Adam coming up the first bit of Westward Ha! (5.7).)

It is a good thing we hit this climb right away, since we were soon joined at the cliff by three other parties, two of which did only Westward Ha! and then went home. It was strange to see so many people out at Millbrook and I thought it was a bit of a shame that most of them hiked out for just one route. Folks, there are other good moderate routes very close by. You should check them out.

There was one other pair of climbers there at the cliff who seemed interested in doing climbs other than Westward Ha!; I struck up a conversation with the leader after I heard him giving some advice to one of the other parties. He seemed to know his way around. He gave me his opinion of all of the climbs I was thinking about attempting. His advice was not encouraging.

The White Corner? "If you fall at the wrong spot you're going to get hurt."

Strike one.

The Time Eraser? "The hard part is well-protected but the first forty feet are scary."

Strike two.

Rib Cracker? "That's a good one. Fun route!"

Well, okay then. I guessed we had a winner.

With my ambitions rapidly fading I got ready for Rib Cracker. It did indeed look like a nice climb, with two clean 5.9 pitches to the top of the cliff, passing several overhangs along the way.

It didn't go well. I got stuck at the crux of the first pitch, a move up through an overhang and into a blank corner. I couldn't figure out how to move up into the corner and reach the obvious holds, which were high above. I tried over and over again, stepping up in different ways, never taking a fall but stepping down every time after I failed to find a way to reach the holds up above the overhang. It was very frustrating. I kept thinking I must be missing something.

Eventually I decided it wasn't going to happen. I hadn't really thrown my body up there to go for the holds, but feeling cautious, I didn't want to. I decided to bail. At Adam's suggestion I down-climbed until it was possible to move left to join The High Traverse (5.5), which I then followed to its first belay.


(Photo: Adam is doing the second pitch of The High Traverse (5.5), and when he moves around the corner he'll go straight up for the Recollection (5.8) finish. The part of the route that is in the picture is supposed to be just 5.5, but I thought it was a bit harder than that.)

Adam then took us to the top via the Recollection (5.8) variation to The High Traverse. This turned out to be a high quality route. The climbing is little bit dirty but it is very interesting, with thin moves up the face. Adam protected it well, finding a few creative placements along the way.


(Photo: Adam's shot of one of his neat placements on Recollection (5.8).)

I arrived at the top of the cliff in a foul mood. What were we going to do now? I'd given up on Rib Cracker, a 5.9. Was I really willing to try a scary 5.10 like The Time Eraser?

Adam gently pushed me to at least have a look at it.

And so we rapped down again. I decided to just take it one move at a time and to be careful not to get committed way out from my gear. If I found the initial climbing too run out I would just climb back down.

It ended up working out fine. I really enjoyed The Time Eraser.


(Photo: That's me reaching the end of the crux section of The Time Eraser (5.10-). Photo by Adam.)

To my relief, I thought the early climbing was no big deal. The rock was okay and I found gear here and there. It certainly is no horror show, so long as you start well to the right of the crux face above (as the guidebooks recommend). You trend up and left to the end of a low overlap, and then the business begins. A delicate traverse further left is followed by steep climbing up the orange face. The terrain is technical and the holds are small. It reminded me of Proctoscope (5.9+) in the Trapps. The climbing is of a similar style and difficulty, but it goes on for a longer time.

Once you reach the small roof above the steep orange face you are through with the hard climbing. I was pretty psyched to get there, especially after feeling so defeated by Rib Cracker. The Time Eraser felt just as I'd hoped it would: engaging and challenging, but in control.


(Photo: Adam inspecting the crack at the start of the 5.8 pitch two of The Time Eraser. You can see our fixed rappel line on the right side of the photo.)

Pitch two is also nice, though not as nice as pitch one. It ascends several corners to the top of the cliff, with an exciting, blind step out to the right beneath the final corner. Adam dispatched it with ease and we were again atop the cliff.

We'd now topped out three times and the sun was well on its way towards the horizon. We figured we had just enough time for another quick one and Cruise Control (5.9) seemed like the obvious choice.


(Photo: Adam rappelling down to the Death Ledge one more time as the sun sinks behind the cliff.)

Doing Cruise Control again for the second time only confirmed my initial impression: this is one of the best routes in the Gunks. Both pitches are outstanding. I love the technical bit up a shallow open book on the first pitch, which is followed by a good roof problem. Then the second pitch offers exposed position on beautiful white rock and fun climbing up a crack to the finish. It's as if you took the best parts of Limelight, Arrow and Silhouette and stacked them all on top of one another.


(Photo: Adam leading the 5.8 pitch two of Cruise Control.)

We hiked out as the sun set, reaching the bridge just before it got truly dark out.

The high season is upon us and I still have many landmark climbs to hit before the year is out. I was really pleased to knock The Time Eraser off my list. For me it was a big goal and now I have to consider whether I'm ready for some of the other more serious tens out at Millbrook. I don't know what went wrong on Rib Cracker but I'll have to go back some time and give it another shot.

As for the Dolomites, I only got a taste-- but my wife Robin loved the area as much as I did, so I'm sure we'll go again. For now, as the song says: it's very nice to go traveling... but it's so much nicer to come home!

(Photo: Andy emerging from the crab crawl under the roof on pitch two of Erect Direction (5.10c).)

September seemed to fly by. Labor Day came late. Before we knew it we stood at the brink of October. As September hurried past us, we started to see some ideal fall days in the Gunks.

I headed up to the Gunks with Andy on one beautiful Sunday. The chief question in my mind as we drove up was which big target we should hit. The high season was here and would soon be gone. If I wanted to make any progress on my list of mega-classics I had to get cracking!

The grade was not terribly important to me. What mattered more was whether the climbs we chose would push us; whether they were climbs that I'd always wanted to try but had been too intimidated in years past to consider seriously.

My two top candidates were Fat City Direct (5.10d) and Erect Direction (5.10c). Both of them are often described as climbs that define what climbing in the Gunks is all about. Both of them ascend enormous overhangs and both routes have intimidating crux climbing that precedes the overhangs.

I was also thinking about my role as "Mr. Gunks" for Andy. Andy is a great climber who has a bunch of trad experience, but during his several moves around the country he has mostly focused on sport climbing. He came to New York City last year and after we met I decided it would be my mission to show him the best of the Gunks. We'd been up there just twice together so far and during these two visits we'd generally stuck to single-pitch climbing.

With a beautiful day ahead of us I thought it was time for Andy to experience some real multi-pitch Gunks action. This argued in favor of Erect Direction, which is typically done in three pitches with an exposed, hanging belay under the big roof after pitch two. (Fat City, by contrast, often gets done in a single long pitch.) There were also some other great multi-pitch climbs close to Erect Direction that I was game to tackle. So it seemed like our choice was clear.

Andy was cool with the plan. He even agreed to let me lead pitches two and three because he understood that this was one of these lifetime-goal climbs for me. When we got to the Trapps we marched straight over to the base of Erect Direction.

Looking up at the cliff I could see the challenges which were to come. The 5.10a roof on pitch three is really big, but it didn't concern me so much. I knew the holds had to be good. A roof that big couldn't be all that mysterious, or it wouldn't be 10a! It would be much harder.

I was more worried about the 5.10c pitch two crux, which requires you to ascend an off-width vertical crack over a small roof and into a cramped position underneath a bigger overhang. From this scrunched stance you have to worm your way to the right until you can get out from under the roof and then ascend a corner to the hanging belay beneath the big, triangular pitch three ceiling. It looked claustrophobic and intense. And I had no idea what to expect from the moves. Would I know how to ascend the off-width? Would the traverse be terribly thin?

Standing at the base, taking it all in, I had to calm my stomach a little bit. Were we really going up there?

We were.


(Photo: Andy heading up the 5.8 pitch one of Erect Direction.)

The first pitch was new to Andy, of course, though I've done it many times. It is a very nice 5.8 pitch, juggy and steep. It is one of the best of the first pitches in this part of the cliff, so it is frequently used to access the upper pitches nearby. Andy led it without a worry and soon enough-- maybe too soon!-- we were racking up for pitch two.

From the GT Ledge I had a really good look at the pitch two crux. It seemed pretty scary to me. What was I going to do up there? I would have to figure out something. I carried on, with optimism (as Dick Williams might say). I brought with me a big gray Number Four Camalot because David Stowe once told me that it would be useful in the off-width.

I got up to the business in no time. The opening bits of this pitch are shared with Moonlight (5.6), and the climbing is easy but there's very little gear.

Luckily there is good gear for the crux. I got a solid nut at the lip of the overhang, just below the off-width.

Then I had to figure out how to make further progress. Above the small overhang is a blank face and the off-width crack-- too wide for cams-- to the left. I couldn't place the Number Four yet. It appeared I might be able to place it after I made the moves, at the top where the wide crack tapered a bit.

I ventured up and down several times, testing the obvious holds, and looking vainly for purchase inside the wide crack. It seemed like you could lay back off the edge of the off-width but, frankly, there was no way I was doing that. It was too insecure for my tastes.

So I found another way. I don't want to spew too much beta, but I will say that it involved groveling in the off-width, pushing up, high-stepping, wedging my body... in combination. Eventually I got my feet to the highest holds and arrived at the ceiling. My feet were maybe four feet from the roof, and the rest of me was scrunched in between. It was simultaneously cramped and exposed, like being trapped in a cardboard box, but at the same time risking an immediate fall if my toe moved a millimeter.

Existing in the space between the tiny footholds and the ceiling, hunched over, I tried not to hyperventilate. I'd made it. Now I just had to figure out how to tiptoe to the right to escape this crawlspace. Carefully I reached to my left and placed the Number Four at the top of the off-width. (Thanks, David!) Then I told myself to breathe.

"Calm down calm down calm down," I repeated.

I examined what was to come. There were holds. It wasn't so bad. The hardest work was behind me. It looked like after just a few moves to the right I'd be out. Gingerly I tiptoed over, then again, and before I knew it I was out from under the roof, looking up the corner to the fixed anchor, and above it to the big pitch three roof.

I threw in a cam and hustled up to the fixed station, which (as of this writing) is just a single sling threaded through several rusting nuts. Clipping it, I called out "Take!" and then I relaxed onto the tat and said a silent prayer while I built a real anchor. I was wiped out.


(Photo: Another shot of Andy emerging from the crab-crawl under the ceiling on pitch two of Erect Direction (5.10c).)

I have to say I don't think I've ever been happier to reach an anchor than I was on pitch two of Erect Direction. It's not that the pitch is really so hard, or long (it's actually pretty short), or at all unsafe (there is good gear everywhere you need it). It's just stressful. I found the positions to be unnerving. I had to work not to panic.

Andy followed the pitch cleanly, as I knew he would, and then we set our sights on the big ceiling above us.

I was hoping this third pitch, at 5.10a, would seem easy by comparison, but somehow I managed to blow it.

Leading up to the gargantuan roof, I got some good cams underneath. Then I made the big reach out to the lip, cut my feet and found myself hanging at the edge of the ceiling with one heel up. I tried to place a cam immediately but I couldn't get it to work in the irregular crack. I kept fumbling.

Nerves.

The cam wouldn't seat correctly. It wasn't right. I wasn't willing to make another move without a good piece but I was flaming out and I couldn't get the piece I had to work. I was at an impasse. I refused to clip this worthless cam and I couldn't hang on to fix it any more.

I expressed my thoughts to Andy. "Fuck me," I said. "Fuck me, fuck me, FUCK ME!"

I'm not proud of it.

It seemed like it was safer to drop down deliberately than to attempt to make another move. Once you commit to the ceiling you are looking at a swinging fall. I reasoned that it was better to let go in a controlled fashion than to fall further out, unpredictably. I decided to make the leap. Moving back towards the wall, I dropped my feet and asked Andy to pull it in. Then I let go and took the swing.

I landed, I hope gently, on Andy's head back at the belay.

After we both gathered ourselves I went back up and sent the damn thing. Since I started the pitch over from the beginning I'm counting it as a red point.

When I went up to the roof for the second time I bumped over ONE MORE MOVE and found a much better position from which to hang. I could have played with cams in this position all day long. I felt like such an idiot. In leisurely fashion, I placed two cams and got out of there.

The roof, as large as it is, actually isn't that hard, relatively speaking. As I'd hoped, there are lots of jugs. I think the crux of the third pitch is actually after you stand up at the lip of the roof. You have to make a hard move up an open book, and then finally you'll find easy terrain as you move left and around another ceiling to the finish.


(Photo: Feeling spent atop Erect Direction. Photo by Andy.)

I'm afraid I'm making Erect Direction sound like it wasn't a lot of fun. But it was. It was terrifying, exhausting, difficult-- and lots and lots of fun. It lived up to its reputation as one of the best climbs in the Gunks. I was really proud to on-sight pitch two of this climb. I should have also on-sighted pitch three. But what are you gonna do. You win some, you lose some.

Some day I'll go back to try to run pitches two and three together without stopping at the hanging belay. It would take careful sling work to avoid horrendous drag.

By the way, if you'd like to see some fantastic photos of Erect Direction, check out this set taken by Christian Fracchia. There are great shots of the pitch three roof. And Chris' photos bring to life the cramped, insecure pitch two crux better than my words ever could. Beware; there is a lot of beta revealed, although I did both cruxes very differently!

After Erect Direction I was ready for a break. I decided to send Andy up CCK Direct (5.9), one of my favorite routes.


(Photo: That's me, leading the 5.5 pitch one of CCK. Photo by Andy.)

I took care of pitch one and then sent Andy off on pitch two, the money pitch. Andy liked it, but I think maybe it was too easy for him. I remember cowering in the alcove before the final roof when I first led this climb back in 2012. But Andy? He breezed right through it without a care.


(Photo: Andy leading CCK Direct (5.9).)

Next I wanted to find another classic for him. We started walking a bit and found Arrow (5.8) wide open. Again I took the first pitch and handed it off to Andy for the crux pitch.


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

Once again Andy finished the lead in no time. I was curious to hear his thoughts, as a newcomer, on a climb that for me is like holy ground.

He liked it but wished there were more bolts. "A little run out" was his verdict. What can I say, he is a sport climber! And Arrow, while bolted, is no sport climb.

Our day was winding down and I started to feel ambitious again. I decided to try Amber Waves of Pain (5.10a). We rapped to the GT Ledge and walked on over.

This is just another great 5.10 at the Gunks which I've never gotten around to.

The climb is no joke but after Erect Direction it felt almost casual, well under control. The first crux is a big multi-tiered overhang. Nothing but a juggy good time. Right at the beginning of the hard part there is a sideways pocket where you really want a good placement. I had a hard time getting a cam to fit but I eventually worked in a brown Tricam, facing down. It was seated in a strange way but it seemed very solid.

Every time I consider dropping Tricams off my rack I find that they come in handy like this.

At the end of the first crux section there is an exciting, reachy grab up to a big shelf. And then easier climbing leads to a second crux, over another roof and into a seemingly blank corner. And then to the top of the cliff. There is good gear to the right as you enter the final overhang.

I really liked Amber Waves. The pitch has a ton of good moves on it. I think the 5.10a grade is fair-- at the old rating of 5.9 this would be one heck of a sandbag.


(Photo: Andy topping out on Amber Waves of Pain (5.10a).)

With autumn officially under way, 2015 continues to be an amazing year. I feel like with every visit to the Gunks I have to fit in at least one milestone. The time is limited and there are many, many excellent projects from which to choose. I'm so fortunate to be feeling so good and I have to take advantage of every chance I get.

I'm also headed to Indian Creek in two weeks for a mini-vacation. If you read this blog then you know I'm a terrible crack climber. I've been trying to prepare on the crack climbs in the gym-- and I've made progress, for sure-- but I know I'm in for a spanking when I get to Utah. It will be a learning experience and I will let you know how it goes!

(Photo: Adam making the finishing moves on Face to Face (5.10b).)

Hurricane Joachin wreaked havoc with many plans. In the South, it brought dangerous winds and flooding. Here in the Northeast, we were lucky. The hurricane was merely an inconvenience.

It rained.

For several days in a row.

My wife and I had travel plans that were canceled because of the storm. We found ourselves at home in NYC for the weekend with nothing on the agenda. On Saturday morning, with no expectations, I checked the weather forecast for New Paltz. This is just something I do, many times a day. It's my Twitter... or Snapchat... or Tinder (??)... or whatever you kids are looking at these days. You know how it is. Maybe you do it too, furtively, on the sly. Like me.

Anyway, I was shocked-- shocked, I say!-- to discover that it was going to be beautiful in the Gunks on Sunday.

I hadn't made any plans to climb-- in fact I'd previously rejected some offers-- but now I needed a partner, STAT.

As luck would have it, Adam was going to be in the Gunks with a friend named Brandon. Brandon is an occasional climber and he wasn't planning to stay all day. Adam wondered if I wanted to join the two of them and then after Brandon took off Adam and I could continue.

Sounded good to me.

I worried that the rock would be wet but as we walked in everything looked surprisingly dry. I couldn't believe it. I wanted to pinch myself. We headed down to the Bonnie's area. Adam was interested in setting up a top rope on a few routes for our little group.

He started us off by leading Groovy (5.8+). I led this route once, back in 2009, but I hadn't been back. The route is short but pretty good. It packs a punch. It ascends an obvious arching corner and then follows a fairly strenuous undercling traverse left under the roof to meet up with the first pitch of Ursula (5.5). In the guidebook, Dick Williams advises taping up for Groovy, but there really is no need.


(Photo: Adam on Groovy (5.8+).)

From the Groovy anchor it is easy to top-rope another route called Space Invaders (5.10d). This route has two variations. The left-hand version goes pretty much straight up the rap line, so we did it first. It starts on Groovy but pretty quickly moves to the outside arête and then it heads straight up a steep face. I was familiar with Space Invaders because I followed a new partner named Robbie up the climb in August. Robbie was happy with the gear. I liked the climbing. The crux is brief but stout, requiring overhanging, big moves between good holds.


(Photo: Robbie heading into the crux face on Space Invaders Left (5.10d).)

The other variation to Space Invaders goes further right up an obvious diagonal crack (visible in the photo above). This right-hand version is also 5.10d, but in my opinion it is a little tougher. The moves are just as steep but they are more technical and continue for a longer time. I have neither led this variation nor have I seen anyone lead it-- I've only top roped it twice. In theory it seems like there's decent gear (I placed several pieces as directionals on rappel) but I think the pro would be rather strenuous to place. Also you'd want to be wary of the big pedestal beneath you as you do the crux. Even if you are top-roping it I would suggest being careful with your directionals so as to avoid a potential swing into the pedestal.

Both versions of Space Invaders are surprisingly worthwhile.

When we were finished playing around on Groovy and Space Invaders, Brandon took off, leaving Adam and me as a twosome for the rest of the day.

It was gorgeous out but there were very few people around. The hurricane must have scared off the usual weekenders. Bonnie's Roof (5.9) and Ants' Line (5.9)-- two of the most popular routes in the Gunks-- had been sitting there empty all morning. I had it in mind to do something ambitious but I just couldn't walk away from the empty Bonnie's Roof, so I decided to lead the Direct to the top in one pitch.


(Photo: That's me leading Bonnie's Roof (5.9). I'm proud of my "look-ma-no-drag!" rope management. Photo by Adam.)

After Bonnie's, we went over to Teeny Face (5.10a), a climb which I'd followed a few times but had never led. Adam had never done any of the great climbs on this buttress (like Obstacle Delusion (5.9) and Insuhlation (5.9)), so he was eager to check it out. It was a good thing we went there when we did, because a queue of parties started to line up behind us, hoping to do Teeny Face. It was strange. Bonnie's and Ants' Line were sitting there empty while people were lining up for the relatively obscure (though quite nice) Teeny Face.

It had been a couple of years since I last followed Teeny Face. I remembered that there is a good placement for a gold Number Two Camalot, right in the middle of the hard part. Aside from that, I just remembered it as similar to (but easier than) Space Invaders Left, with some big moves on a very steep face.


(Photo: I'm leading Teeny Face (5.10a). Photo by Adam.)

It went off without a hitch. It is a very nice climb. I blasted right through the crux without hesitation. I was feeling good. Adam followed it flawlessly; he'd gotten the TRash (top rope flash) on Teeny Face, and both of the Space Invaders variations as well, so he was climbing really well.


(Photo: Adam at the end of the steepness on Teeny Face (5.10a).)

After Teeny Face was done we naturally started thinking about our next target. This day was a gift, a freebie I never expected. I didn't come to the Gunks with any big goals in mind. I expected wetness.

What to do? I started ticking off a list of possibilities in my head: Falled on Account of Strain (5.10b), Matinee (5.10d), The Winter (5.10d), 10,000 Restless Virgins (5.10d)... Then it occurred to me that we should do Face to Face (5.10b), as it was very close by.

Face to Face has been on my list for quite a while. The grade is not extreme but I've always heard that the third pitch is intimidating, with hard climbing up a thin crack right off the belay and then an exposed finger traverse to the finish. The second pitch, too, is pretty outrageous for a 5.9, with a steep traverse under a ceiling.

I proposed to Adam that I would lead pitch one. It is only 5.7 but the guidebook says it is run out at the start. I followed this pitch once before but I couldn't remember much about it. I didn't want to send Adam up something hairy-- this climb was my idea, after all-- so I volunteered for the lead. When we got to the base we found our friends Gail and Julia on No Glow (5.9). So we got to spend some time hanging out and chatting with them at the base and on the GT Ledge.


(Photo: Gail and Julia on the GT Ledge, doing No Glow (5.9).)

I liked pitch one of Face to Face much more than I expected to. There is an almost total lack of gear for the first thirty feet or so, and the face is a little bit dirty. But the climbing is consistently engaging. It is definitely not a good choice for a 5.7 leader, but if you are prepared for the harder upper pitches than the first pitch shouldn't be a big problem for you. I would do it again. I think in the future I will consider using this pitch as a way to get up to the GT Ledge for Amber Waves of Pain (5.10a) or Keep on Struttin' (5.9).

It can be hard to locate pitch two of Face to Face. You can't see the pitch's main feature-- the traverse crack-- from directly underneath it. But if you know where No Glow is, you can find Face to Face by looking for the next roof over to its left. Also, if you wander a bit left from where you end pitch one, to the big stack of blocks leaning against the face of the cliff, you can look up to your right to see the obvious traverse crack. Then move back to directly underneath it and start climbing!


(Photo: Adam confronting the 5.9 crux traverse on pitch two of Face to Face.)

Adam did a good job leading the pitch. There isn't a lot of gear on the easy face leading up to the overhang, but once you get there you'll find automatic, perfect placements for as many pieces as you can hang on to place during the crux section. Adam got some solid cams at the corner before he got going, and then I think three pieces along the traverse. Once he completed the 5.9 traverse and got out onto the main face of the cliff it wasn't long before he was building a belay for me to come on up.

I found this to be a great pitch and not as hard as it looks. If you are diligent about looking for footholds you'll find the climbing isn't so bad. It is steep but the holds are good.

When I joined Adam at the belay I could see why the third pitch is considered so intimidating. The crux comes right at the start. There is a thin crack above an inverted v-notch. You have to gain the face using small crimpy hands and no footholds to speak of. I really wanted to protect the belay so I spent some time getting what seemed like a good Alien and an excellent small nut before starting up.

Pulling up onto the face, I tested the crimps a bit, then decided to step back down to check out the footholds a little more. As I attempted to place my toe back on the ledge, my fingers slid off of the crimps and in a fraction of a second I was off, hanging in the air from the nut I placed, right next to Adam. I let out a string of expletives. So much for my on-sight of Face to Face!

I was furious.

At least I'd have an immediate opportunity for the red point. This was similar to what happened on pitch three of Erect Direction the week before, in that on both climbs after taking a fall I started the pitch again from the beginning. Except this time the fall was only about two feet long.

Beginning again, I committed to the crimps, moved my feet up and got through it.

Once you're past the first scary bit and you get established on the face, the climbing isn't so hard for a little while, as you head straight up to the base of some overhangs and then move to the right and up again until you are level with the obvious finger-crack traverse left through the tiered roofs. Here, much like the traverse on pitch two, you can see exactly where you need to go and it isn't as tough as it looks-- but boy is it committing. You are really stepping out there over the void. It is possible to get very good gear in the finger crack. I had a nut that I was pretty psyched on.

(Photo: Adam in motion attempting the first hard move of On Any Monday (5.11a). We got trashed trying this polished silliness on top rope at the very end of our day. We didn't make it very far.)

Fall is now well under way. Climbing conditions are ideal and I need to squeeze in some more time in the Gunks so I can attempt Fat City Direct (5.10d) and Carbs and Caffeine (5.11a) before the year is out. But first there will be other adventures on which to report. Last weekend we were in the Adirondacks and I was able to climb for a day at the Spider's Web (post coming soon).

And next week I'm taking a short trip to Indian Creek for some crack climbing. I'm not expecting to crush anything there but I will definitely let you know how it goes, whether it is a send fest (doubtful) or a humbling siege-a-thon (more likely)!

(Photo: Indian Creek.)

I recently spent four days in the crack-climbing capital of the world: Indian Creek, Utah.

The trip was in the works for a while. My longtime partner Adrian went to the Creek last October with some of his Squamish buddies. This year, a similar crew planned to reunite for another visit.

With the exception of Adrian, I hadn't met any of the participants before, but I felt like I knew some of them already from the many times I'd heard Adrian speak about them.

There was Lee, one of Adrian's longtime Vancouver partners. He is super fit and very experienced. He seems to manage balancing his home life and climbing life in a way that I envy-- he has five children yet still manages to get out for a ton of climbing days. I'd like to pick his brain about how he does it, though with my kids verging on high school I guess I'm nearing the end of my own tour through the child-rearing years.

Also in attendance was Patrick, another veteran of the Vancouver scene, who came with his wife Diane. They too are fitness buffs-- they are active hikers and triathletes/Tough Mudder participant types. Diane doesn't climb but she and Patrick are always traveling the country together in their camper. They have mastered the art of living on the road to such an extent that Diane can whip up a gourmet meal for a large party out of the camper, night after night, without breaking a sweat. They have all the modern conveniences: folding chairs, a portable campfire unit, a carpet on which to gather... Pat and Diane really make a campsite feel like home.

All of the people I've mentioned so far (including Adrian and me) are, you might say, "of a certain age." We've all made the long journey 'round the sun a few times. But there were a couple of younger folks along for the ride as well. There was Adi, a regular whippersnapper-- I'm guessing he's probably in his thirties. He too lives in Vancouver. He recently took some time off from work to devote himself solely to climbing. Over the last several months he's gotten really strong.

And last but not least was Chelsey, a young climber from Montreal, who has only been climbing for a couple of years but you'd never know it. She's so much better than I was after a couple of years. Not that I'm any kind of barometer. My climbing career is evidence that rank mediocrity can be extended over an endless span of time.

The gang planned to be in Utah for a whole week, but I didn't have that kind of time to spare. I was flying out to join them in the middle of their trip. I'd have about three and a half days with which to climb before making the long drive back to Salt Lake City for my overnight flight back east.

It seemed like plenty of time with which to get thrashed on the Creek's steep hand cracks.

In the months leading up to the trip I tried to prepare. I really did.

I knew from my isolated past attempts at crack climbing that I have no natural talent for it.

I am not being modest. I am just keeping it real. Whether at Cannon Cliff in New Hampshire, in the Adirondacks, at Squamish, or in Yosemite, I've made occasional, halting attempts to climb hand cracks, and over the years I've made little progress. Whenever I have had the opportunity to climb a hand crack, I've found the climbing to be insecure. I've had a hard time getting good jams. I've ended up hanging and backing off a lot. Whatever improvement I make during one trip seems to evaporate before the next one. It isn't like riding a bike for me. I'm always starting over from zero.

This year I wanted it to be different. I hoped to get something meaningful out of Indian Creek. I had to finally learn how to do this thing.

I bought the recent book, The Crack Climber's Technique Manual, by Kent Pease. It is an extremely thorough treatise. I read it from cover to cover, and then reread several chapters multiple times, trying to absorb the information.

Book learnin' was all well and good, but for the lessons to make a meaningful difference I needed to practice on some actual cracks.

Unfortunately, there aren't any outdoor crack climbs around NYC. I would have to do most of my practicing indoors, at the Cliffs at Long Island City. This gym has three crack climbs. I spent months working at them, eventually getting pretty good at the two easier ones. I would devote part of every gym session to these cracks, altering my hand positions so as to work on them in multiple ways.

My gym practice was better than nothing, but I knew it couldn't prepare me for the stresses of managing a lead on real rock. Before heading to Indian Creek I needed to make a trip to the Adirondacks or New Hampshire to get mileage on some real crack climbs.

But I couldn't seem to find the time.

My big chance finally came on Columbus Day weekend. I went up to Keene Valley, in the Adirondacks, with my wife and kids. We did a little hiking and I got to do a little climbing. Adrian came down from Montreal to meet me at the Spider's Web, a wall full of overhanging vertical crack climbs.


(Photo: Adrian warming us up on Slim Pickins (5.9+).)

We had a nice, leisurely day at the Web. We only did four pitches. I sent Adrian up the technical corner of Slim Pickins (5.9+) to start us off. After that we did three 5.10a crack climbs: Esthesia (which I had followed once before), TR, and On the Loose. Adrian and I both were interested in leading all of them, so that's what we did.

(Photo: I'm leading Esthesia (5.10a).)

Esthesia went well. I was happy to lead it clean. But it doesn't require any jamming-- both cruxes can be done as laybacks. Adrian, crack climber that he is, chose to jam through the upper crux crack, making me wish I'd at least tried to do the same, for practice.

TR also went pretty smoothly for both of us. But again I didn't feel like this was a real test of jamming skill. I used the occasional hand jam to rest and place gear, but there wasn't much pure hand jamming on the route. There were lots of finger locks and jugs.


(Photo: Adrian on TR (5.10a).)

The moves on TR are pretty straightforward, but (like most of the climbs at the Web) it is steep! I found it striking that the guidebook describes this pitch as the "warm-up" climb on the wall. Pumpy and sustained, it did not seem like a warm-up to me. I was happy to on-sight it.

Finally we hit On the Loose, which turned out to be the only climb of the day that required hand jamming most of the time. Adrian was in his element and led it comfortably, proclaiming it easier than TR.

For me, it was harder. I got good jams but it took a conscious effort to commit to moving up on them. I felt insecure. After a few steep moves I had to take a hang. It got better from there and my confidence seemed to improve as I got higher.


(Photo: That's me on On the Loose (5.10a).)

I wasn't sure what this all meant for my upcoming trip to Indian Creek. I would find out in a few days.

As the trip approached I paid little attention to weather forecast. I assumed that since we were traveling to the desert, in the high season, we would be looking at favorable temperatures and clear skies.

These assumptions turned out to be ill-founded. Shortly before I left NYC I found out from the guys that it had been raining on and off during the first few days of their trip! On the day I arrived in Utah it was similarly spotty. I reached the campground in the evening, got set up in my tent, and then I lay awake for hours, listening to the rain come down.

Luckily this was a last gasp of the bad weather. We ended up canceling the next day's climbing so the cliffs could dry out and went to Moab to hang out instead.

Though I lost one day, we eventually got plenty of climbing in. And the weather cooperated for the rest of the trip.

I didn't have any specific goals in mind. I had decided long before I got to Utah that this trip was going to be a learning experience for me. Also I knew that the other guys had already been there for a while. I didn't want to get my heart set on a particular climb and then have to fight to go do it because everyone else had already done it earlier in the same week. It seemed better to just go with the flow and do whatever everyone else wanted to do.

Adrian was shocked at my lack of direction. For some strange reason he was expecting me to show up with an ambitious tick list. I don't know why he would expect something like that from me.
Since I didn't have any concrete demands, Adrian proposed that I should start out by leading The Incredible Hand Crack (5.10), the most popular route at Indian Creek, which is at Supercrack Buttress, the Creek's most popular cliff. Several members of our crew had routes there that they wanted to red-point, so they were amenable to heading there for the day. For me this was a dream come true. I of course wanted to go there but I didn't want to make everyone else return to this cliff if they were already sick of it.

When we arrived and marched up to the Supercrack Buttress I was pretty impressed. The cliffs at the Creek don't appear to be all that tall from the road. But when you stand directly beneath the walls they seem to soar upwards forever into the sky. And while most of the climbs are just one pitch they are long, steep, and unrelenting. The cracks just go on and on.

Looking up at Incredible Hand Crack put a knot in my stomach. The early bits looked easy, with two short sections of vertical crack broken up by good ledges. But then the crux climbing loomed above: a lengthy section of steeply overhanging hand crack in a corner.


(Photo: Getting some beta on The Incredible Hand Crack (5.10).)

It did not go well. I got over the bouldery first move and put my mitts in the crack. Nervously I threw in two pieces of gear before I reached the first shelf. I was making the moves but with every step I had to will myself to continue, to move up. Shakily I made it to the stance before the crux section. But then I couldn't get through the overhang. I kept failing at getting both hands locked in the crack. I took at least a half a dozen falls and then finally gave up and handed the lead over to Adrian.


(Photo: That's me attempting The Incredible Hand Crack (5.10).)

After Adrian led up through my gear and finished it, I tried it again on top rope. It still took some figuring out but after a fall or two I worked out how to get established in the overhanging crack and I made it to the anchor.

I wasn't too disappointed. I came here to learn, right? At least I went for it. For the rest of the day I followed other people up some of the best 5.10 cracks at Indian Creek. I found out that when I didn't have to worry about leading, I wasn't quite so terrible at crack climbing. My months of practice paid off-- to some extent.


(Photo: Lee leading Supercrack (5.10).)

I watched Adi and Lee both lead Supercrack, a steep splitter crack that passes a small roof and then goes on for miles. Watching both of them send it, I could understand the endurance that was required to lead the route. When my turn came I was thrilled just to do it cleanly on top rope. It turned out I felt pretty comfortable jamming when the crack was in the range of Number 2 and 3 Camalots.


(Photo: Adi leading No Name Crack (5.10).)

I was able to successfully follow two more beautiful 5.10 hand cracks at the Supercrack Buttress, one of them known as the No Name Crack and the other one called 3 AM Crack. These were rather similar to each other, both of them being right facing corner cracks. Each route had its own unique challenges, such as a small overhang or a thin or wide section. On top rope I found I could manage these challenges. I'm sure if I'd been leading them it would have been a different story.


(Photo: That's me leading Three Pigs in a Slot (5.10), with Adrian belaying.)

By the end of the day I'd made enough progress that I thought maybe I could try to lead The Incredible Hand Crack again. But it was occupied. So instead I tried to lead another 5.10 called Pigs in a Slot. This climb is short (45 feet) and features a wider vertical crack than the ones I'd been doing all day. I hadn't done any cracks of this size but the group provided me with a whole bunch of Number 4 Camalots so there was no reason not to go for it.

It didn't go as badly as my first lead but it was still a struggle. I just felt insecure, for no reason that I could articulate. The climb was very safe and I could pause anywhere I wanted. I could shove my leg into the crack at will. It should have felt easy. But I had to force myself to commit, even when I had a big fat Number 4 Camalot over my head. It was slow going, and tense.

The next day we all went to the Reservoir Wall. I attempted another 5.10 lead; it was just another great crack in a corner. Indian Creek has so many of these that people don't even bother giving them names half the time. This crack took Number 3 Camalots the whole way up and therefore should have been in my comfort zone. And I suppose it was. For the most part I did fine, except at one point right in the middle where the insecurity came randomly over me again and I stopped to take a hang.


(Photo: I'm leading another 5.10 corner, again with Adrian belaying.)

I watched Adrian lead a somewhat atypical (for the Creek) 5.10 climb called Dr. Karl. This climb mostly featured finger cracks, with the feet spanning two opposing flakes. It reminded me a bit of Bloody Mary at Poke-O. Adrian did a good job on it. I elected just to follow it but later kicked myself for not leading it too. It was my kind of climbing and felt pretty straightforward to me.

(Photo: View out from the Reservoir Wall to Bridger Jack (the jagged wall on the left) and the two Six Shooter towers in the distance at the horizon.)

The highlight of the day was Pente (5.11-), which Adi did a great job of leading. The climb ascends 160 feet in a single pitch. The meat of the route involves thin hand jamming (Number 1 Camalots) up a steep headwall. Then in the second half the angle eases but the crack narrows to the horrible .75 size. This pitch just goes and goes. Adi brought more cams than the guidebook recommended but towards the end he still ran out of gear. We had to send more cams up to him using the tag line. It was an epic effort.


(Photo: Adi leading Pente (5.11-).)

No one else in the group ended up leading it but Adrian looked almost casual as he strolled up the climb on top rope. It seemed like he could easily lead it. I was wholly unfamiliar with this crack size and I really struggled just to get started in the crack, falling out of it several times. Once I finally got in it, though, I was able to get a rhythm going and was pretty successful the rest of the way. For me to lead this route would take a lot of work, I think.

I was amazed to watch Chelsey follow Pente easily, without a single moment of uncertainty. I'd heard that before I arrived she'd been following every climb in the Creek without much trouble, and she was even experimenting with some leading. This was her first trip to the Creek, and her first time crack climbing. She only recently started leading trad. Watching her I was very impressed. And jealous! She is clearly one of those lucky people for whom crack climbing comes naturally. I was exhausted by Pente but for her it wasn't a big deal.

After just two full days in the Creek I was feeling worn down by the effort involved in climbing these long, steep cracks. I had so many scrapes on my arms and legs I resembled a leper. We were all driving out by the early afternoon the next day so there wouldn't be time for more than a few pitches anyway. I didn't mind.

We went to Donnelly Canyon, which is another very popular wall. It shares a parking area with the Supercrack Buttress. A highlight of this wall is the popular Generic Crack (5.10). This is a straight-in splitter with a few challenging wide pods. Lee and Adi both wanted to red-point it before they left for home.

Before I came to Indian Creek I had thought that maybe I'd lead Generic Crack but on our final day I was content to follow it. I hoped to do it clean but I struggled to get into the first wide pod. Once I worked that out the rest of it went well.


(Photo: Chelsey leading Chocolate Corner (5.9) on our last day.)

I didn't come to Indian Creek expecting to rip it up. Instead I wanted to get some experience on splitter cracks and to progress a bit in my crack climbing. The trip definitely provided the training I was hoping for, so from that perspective it was an unqualified success. And I got to experience some of the most legendary climbs in the world, all in an amazing desert setting. Plus I got to meet a whole bunch of wonderful people. So it was a great little vacation and I had a very enjoyable time there.

I did, in the back of my mind, have a hope that after a day or two of pumping cracks something would "click" and I'd suddenly feel as comfortable leading sandstone cracks as I do leading climbs on Gunks conglomerate. This obviously didn't happen, so I left feeling a little bit frustrated. I tried to remind myself that crack climbing really is a distinct discipline from the type of climbing I'm used to. I need more mileage, and then the progress will come.

It's as if you are an experienced trumpet player. You've been doing it for years and you've forgotten what it was like when you weren't good at it. And then one day you decide to play around with a trombone. You ask yourself "How different can it be?" But then you try it and your embouchure is all wrong and you have to figure out how to work the slide; as a result the sounds you produce are closer to noise than to music. And you can't fix it right away. You've forgotten how long you worked at the trumpet to get proficient at it, and back then you didn't mind how bad you sounded. Starting over on the trombone is like torture, because now you know better. You know how it should sound, and you know what you can do. But you can't execute yet in this new medium.

That's what crack climbing is like for me. I'm a trumpet player who is trying to pick up the trombone. Or worse: the oboe. I wish it came more easily to me.

I think I made some incremental moves forward in the Creek. My third 5.10 lead was much better than my first. I hope the experience will translate to other climbing areas, and that when I travel to the Adirondacks or New Hampshire I will be more comfortable than before on the vertical cracks there.

And some day I'll go back to the Creek. I will return and I will try again.

(Photo: The Gunks in Autumn.)

I was very excited to get back to the Gunks after my trip to Indian Creek.

Don't get me wrong. The trip was nice, but I was out of my element there, struggling on the vertical cracks. I was eager to return to my home turf, where I was comfortable on my feet and where things have been going so very well lately.

I felt like I'd been away from the Gunks for a long time, even though it had only been a few weeks.

The high season was passing me by! Or not really. But I felt the itch. You climbing psychos know what I mean.

The year would soon end. I needed to hit something big with every day at the cliff. Who knew when a given climbing day would turn out to be the last one of the year?

I made plans with Adam to go to the Nears. I had one route in my sights:

Fat City Direct (5.10d).

This was a biggie, for sure.

It had been on "the list" all year. It was a must-do for 2015 as far as I was concerned. And we didn't have too much of 2015 left to play around with. I needed to get on it, and soon.

So Adam and I drove up on a Sunday morning, ready to hit it.

And then, as we careened down the road towards our destiny... it began raining.

This hadn't been in the forecast.

As we bravely carried on, it kept on coming down. We persevered in the face of the storm, only to arrive at the West Trapps lot in the midst of a misty sprinkle. It was cold too. Our little pocket computers promised us that the rain would pass over soon, so we optimistically went ahead and gathered up our crap, hiking over to the closest part of the Near Trapps, where the routes tend to stay dry under huge roofs.

Standing at the cliff we were sheltered from the falling rain but our spirits were nevertheless slightly dampened. The rock felt cold to the touch. We took our time getting started.

We thought about warming up on Outer Space (5.8) or Le Plié (5.7), but after we looked around a bit my eye fell on a roof problem about fifteen feet off the ground. I had never noticed this line before.

Taking my phone out of my pocket, I checked the Nears App and found out that this was Crass (5.10b), a short climb which goes over the crux roof just off the ground and then does a traverse around a corner to join Le Plié. The roof appeared to be well-protected. It looked fun. Why not give it a try?


(Photo: Adam on Crass (5.10b).)

I liked Crass. There isn't any gear for the first move up onto the easy slab but there is dynamite protection as soon as it gets difficult. The roof itself is tricky. I had to take a hang to figure it out. Once I sussed out the move it wasn't so hard. Above the crux overhang you reach another roof where there is good gear for the exciting traverse out and around the corner. This part is probably 5.8. And then it's over.

Crass is no classic but it provided good fun while we waited out the rain.

By the time we were finished things were looking up. The rain had passed and the cliff didn't seem too wet. There were a few other intrepid souls around but Adam and I had our pick of lines to do.

Adam had expressed an interest in Grand Central (5.9), so we did it. I led up the easy 5.6 part and built a belay so that Adam could take it the rest of the way to the top in one pitch covering both of the route's cruxes.

Grand Central is a good 5.9 and while it isn't the hardest nine out there-- the crux climbing is just a couple of steep moves on small holds-- it tests the budding 5.9 leader because the gear is small/fiddly and you have to commit to moving above your protection through the crux moves. Adam did well, hanging in to make sure he was happy with his placements and then climbing on through. And he made quick work of the upper crux, a reachy overhang which for me always requires a little lunge off of greasy feet.


(Photo: A blanket of fall colors, seen from the top of the Near Trapps.)

After we rapped off of the Alphonse tree (with my 70 meter rope; be careful folks!), it was decision time.

Was I ready to attack Fat City Direct?

In what is becoming a tradition for us, Adam suggested we go over and "just have a look at it."

This has come to mean that we are definitely going to do whatever climb we are "looking" at.

Fat City Direct ascends a most impressive portion of the cliff, winding steeply through a kaleidoscopic series of orange roofs. Like Erect Direction (5.10c), another legendary climb which I did last month, Fat City has hard crux climbing that no one talks about, which is then followed by slightly easier but more spectacular climbing that gets all the attention.

After walking over, I tried to scope out the hardest bits. I figured the initial 5.9 roof wouldn't be too bad. I tried to spot the 5.10d crux just above but I couldn't really tell where it was. I could see a bulging section above a notch and guessed that this had to be it. Then, looking higher, it was pretty easy to find the intimidating upper crux, where a sloping diagonal rail led to the lip of a big overhang. You can't see it from the ground, but I knew that an ancient, hard-to-clip piton was sitting at the lip of this roof, providing the only pro for getting over it. Dick Williams says that this part of the climb is 5.10b R.

I racked up, taking as many slings as I could dig out of my bag. This climb is often done in one super-long pitch. There is the option to stop and belay between the cruxes but I hoped to take it all the way to the top if I still had any gear left.


(Photo: Here I'm just getting started on Fat City Direct (5.10d), heading for the 5.9 roof. Photo by Adam.)

Getting started, I felt a little bit shaky at the initial 5.9 roof. There was a lot of chalk all over the place and I initially went at it the wrong way. But eventually I changed tactics and it went fine.

Pretty soon after that I came to a shallow overhang. There were some fixed nuts. I thought this must be it: the 5.10d business. I experimented with working out the move, going this way and that. Placing more gear. Eventually I did a committing layback up over the little roof. It was a success. Thinking I'd just done the hard bit, I was feeling good.

But then I quickly found myself in a little notch under yet another overhang, with tiny crimps leading to the left.

Oops, my bad. This was obviously the real crux.

I took a long time there, checking my gear (small Aliens), testing the crimps. Every time I tried to commit to going left I felt like I didn't have it and I came back. Luckily there was a stance there, where I could chicken-wing my arm in the notch and reset.

Finally on my umpteenth foray I worked out a way to get my feet higher, and I found myself committed. My right hand was on a bad crimp; my left was on a sloping vertical feature. Standing up and reaching higher, I prayed the horizontal I was reaching for would offer a little more security.

Eureka! It was a jug. With a "woo hoo!" and an "oh yeah!" I was out of the woods.

(Photo: Emerging from the 5.10d crux on Fat City Direct. Photo by Adam.)

The bolted belay station was a short distance above me and to the left but I thought I had just enough slings to keep going, so I scampered straight up to the final challenge, the famous Fat City upper roof.

I vowed to keep calm and to try to execute. I didn't want a repeat of my Erect Direction experience, where I on-sighted the hardest parts and then blew it when I got nervous in easier territory.

Also I needed to get on with it. This lead was taking forever.


(Photo: At the upper crux roof on Fat City Direct. Photo by Adam.)

It went really well. There is a fixed pin right before the difficulties. I backed this up with two cams. Then it was go time. I breathed deeply and willed myself into "the zone." I only needed to test the holds once or twice before I moved out to the overhang. I had no trouble clipping the well-known sketchy piton at the lip (which I cannot believe was placed on the lead by Gary Brown in 1968!). Then I moved up and over the roof without hesitation, knowing somehow, without a doubt, that this move was going to be fine. Standing above the roof, I put in a piece to protect the second and exhaled, secure in the knowledge that Fat City was finally in the bag.

The 5.8 climbing which followed, winding through several more overhangs, went by in a blur.

I couldn't wait for Adam to join me up top so I could thank him for patiently belaying me on the greatest on-sight of my life.

Fat City Direct is a wonderful climb, with many awesome moments. It is definitely worthy of its legendary status. Done in a single lead it is a monster pitch, nearly 200 feet long. I was psyched to do it that way but I felt compelled to run it out in between the hard parts, both to avoid drag and to conserve gear. At one point Adam was begging me to place a piece. Don't be too alarmed-- he didn't know how easy the climbing was in that section. Nevertheless, I think if I go back I will probably break it up by stopping at the bolted anchor. It is a natural stopping point and it's surely safer to do it that way.

Regarding the exposed upper crux, I think it might be easier than 5.10b. Maybe it's 5.10 minus? And I'm not sure why Dick gives it an R rating. It seems to me that it isn't R if the pin at the lip is good. On the other hand, if the pin is not good it is certainly R; blowing the roof and pulling the pin would be bad news. And who can say whether that pin is at all trustworthy? It has been there a long long time.


(Photo: Adam getting ready to rap off at the Alphonse tree.)

We still had time for more climbing. Adam wanted to lead Broken Sling (5.8) and I wanted to do whatever Adam wanted to do. After Fat City I was cool with anything.

I had only been on Broken Sling once, in 2013. I really liked it then but I thought the first pitch was awkward and in your face, and that the second pitch was hard to protect well.

Adam did a super job leading both pitches.


(Photo: Adam over the first hard moves on Broken Sling (5.8).)

My opinion of Broken Sling remains basically the same. It is sometimes awkward, and at times a bit necky. But wow, this route is really great. So varied and challenging, with tons of climbing packed into two short pitches. It is a worthy classic, and a proud lead.

With the sun going down, I decided to run up Disneyland (5.6-) for a fun, easy end to our day. Apparently I've never written about this very popular climb, but it is a favorite of mine, and just another example of how deep the 5.6 grade is in the Gunks.

Sitting atop the cliff, gazing at the leaves, I started to think about the next big target. What would it be? Would there be any more highlights I could squeeze out of 2015?

Who knows?

(Photo: The Trapps in early November.)

My office was closed for Election Day. It was one of those rare weekday climbing opportunities. The weather was going to be beautiful and Julia was looking for a partner.

Julia and I haven't climbed together much so I approached the day as a sort of bonus. I didn't have anything on the agenda.

After we warmed up a bit, we found ourselves at the Mac Wall, standing at the base of Something Interesting (5.7+). It was a weekday so there weren't too many people around. A party was racking up for the ever-popular Three Pines (5.3) but everything else was available, and it was my turn to lead.


(Photo: Julia on Something Interesting (5.7+).)

I've spent a lot of time at the Mac Wall over the last couple of years, but on most of my visits I've been focused on red-pointing just a few of the routes. It took me more than oneattempt to nail Try Again, and it happenedagain with Coexistence. So there remained several routes that I hadn't explored. There were some that I'd top-roped but never led, and a few more routes on the wall that I'd never even touched, despite all of my days there.

I've been thinking lately that I want to fill in the gaps and send everything at this wall. Or at least, all the tens. Or maybe all the tens except for Water King (5.10d R)?

Standing there with Julia, I checked out the nearest 5.10: Interstice. The first pitch is 5.10b. I was on this climb once before, in 2013, with Deepak and Chin. On that occasion nobody led it. I set it up as a top rope from the Birdie Party bolts. I found it devilishly difficult to make the first crux move just ten feet off the ground. You have to stand up on a good foothold above a shallow roof to a balancy position with no handholds to speak of. I also remembered the upper crux as a tough move, cranking over a bulging, leaning corner to a thin stance.

(Photo: This is Chin at the first crux on Interstice (5.10b) in July of 2013. She's been waiting two years for me to write a post about it!)

At the time, two years ago, I didn't think I would ever lead this route. Both cruxes involve moving up past the gear and you have to keep it together above your pieces to complete the sequences.

But that was a long time ago. As I glanced over at Interstice on Election Day with Julia, it looked like good fun to me. I told Julia that I was feeling like leading it. As we talked about the route, I pronounced the name as "Inter-stiss."

One of the guys on Three Pines immediately piped up:

"I am a scientist, so I can tell you: it is pronounced 'In-TER-steh-see.'"

Who knew? I stood corrected (though the people at the Cambridge Dictionaries Online seem to disagree).

It is a clever name. The word means "the space between," which is a good description for a face route which ascends the blank nothingness between other obvious, natural lines.


(Photo: Fall colors at the Mac Wall.)

I racked up and got started. I was pleasantly surprised when I stepped right up into the first crux move and had no trouble standing up above the little rooflet. This was so different from my 2013 experience. Right after this stand-up sequence there is another thin, delicate move up. You really want some gear for this move-- you are still so close to the ground. I managed to get a small Alien in a little v-notch. It seemed like it would hold.

Once I was through these early moves I found pleasant climbing past a shallow left-facing corner and then it was time for the upper crux. I placed the highest gear I could manage in the bulging corner. Then I committed to moving up. It took a little bit of work to get the move right, but I managed to hold on just fine and to get out onto the face, where after one more easy-does-it step up I was relieved to get another small cam in a tiny downward-facing slot.


(Photo: At the upper crux on Interstice (5.10b) in 2013. Photo by Chin.)

I loved Interstice. It has the same excellent rock quality as the other more well-known climbs on this part of the wall, and two excellent, interesting crux sequences. It doesn't get much attention, but I think it is one of the best of the tens on the Mac Wall. And while it is mentally challenging, requiring moves above gear, I believe it is a safe lead. Bring small cams. I used Julia's C3's in addition to my Aliens.

(Photo: Julia on Star Action (5.10b).)

After we were done with Interstice, Julia went hard at Star Action (5.10b), a climb with which I've become quitefamiliar over the past year or two.

While I stood there belaying Julia I couldn't take my eyes off of Graveyard Shift (5.10d or 5.11a, depending on who you believe). It was another climb I'd tried once on top rope, this past July. I'd gotten it clean on the first try, which was nice.

This is the most feared hard 5.10 on the Mac Wall. Near the start it has some scary, run-out 5.8 climbing over a bulge. And above, at the crux, you go over a small roof with great gear but then you have to make a few more hard moves before you can place anything else. This hard part isn't dangerously run out but I expected it to be very committing.

I decided to go for it. I'd felt so good on Interstice. Again I took Julia's C3's.

I got through the scary 5.8 part just fine and once the run-out section was done I was pretty happy with my pro as I moved delicately up the face to the crux roof. I worked in a few more pieces at the overhang and after shaking out for a while, I went for it.

Alas, I didn't make it. I got above the roof but then I couldn't find a way to stand up. I fell. Then I tried and fell again, and again and again, coming off each time with my feet just above the level of my gear.

With every fall I had to psych myself up to go back above that roof again.

Why was this so much easier on top rope?

Finally I realized I was totally missing a crucial handhold. Once I found it I figured out the sequence and finished the route.

When it was over I was a little bit disappointed that I'd had such a tough time at the crux and that it had turned into such an epic struggle. I wished I'd read the route better. But, on the other hand, I was overjoyed that I'd just led Graveyard Shift, because it meant that OH MY GOD, I AM CAPABLE OF LEADING GRAVEYARD SHIFT.

A year ago I would not have believed that this was possible.


(Photo: Julia approaching the crux roof on Graveyard Shift (5.10d/5.11a).)

As we left the cliff I hoped that the weather would hold out so I could come back soon. I had to return to get the send. A successful lead of Graveyard Shift would really put an exclamation point on the year.

As luck would have it, we had some unseasonably warm temperatures into mid-November. I got back up to the Gunks with Andy on Sunday the 15th, and we went right back to the Mac Wall.

I was debating whether to hop on Graveyard Shift to start our day but there was a party already on it. This was fine by me. I could fill the time by doing the rest of the Mac Wall routes I hadn't led.

I started us off with Men At Arms, which was totally new to me. This climb is supposedly 5.10b. It starts at the same corner as Try Again and then heads left and wanders up the face, past the right side of a big overhang. From below it looks like nothing much. The face appears dirty in places and it is hard to tell where you'll be going.

It went well enough, but the climbing is thin and the gear is spaced and consistently small/fiddly. It seemed like I was stepping above marginal gear to do cruxy moves in the 5.8/5.9 range over and over again.


(Photo: Andy on Men at Arms (5.10b).)

I never found any 5.10 on Men At Arms. Maybe I skipped it? The route wanders a bit and I may have moved right and then left to avoid the "direct" crux climbing. If I'm right about where the direct climbing is, then it doesn't get done much. It is covered in moss.

Also I did the route in one pitch, climbing up until I could traverse over to the Try Again anchor. Doing the climb as one pitch makes for a nice outing of consistent 5.9 climbing-- it is also the way the Trapps App and some users on Mountain Project recommend doing the route. In Dick's book he says you should stop and build a belay at a stance where I wasn't happy with the gear.

I enjoyed Men At Arms, but this route is heady, and very different from all the other Mac Wall climbs. I'm not sure I should admit this, but I have really come to enjoy this type of climbing: thin 5.9 face climbing with marginal gear. I don't know why, but I like the mental challenge. If this type of climbing isn't your bag then you might want to stay away from Men At Arms.

Late in the day I saw someone else on Men At Arms. It was funny: I'd never before seen anyone on this route and then on the same day I decided to finally do it, another person had the same idea. I saw this leader get a little bit lost and then he took a fall. He ripped three pieces, eventually falling thirty feet! He finally came to a stop about fifteen feet off the ground. Luckily it all worked out okay, but it was a close one. I don't know what this says about the route, but please be careful out there, folks.


(Photo: That's me, getting gear for the crux on Graveyard Shift (5.10d/5.11a). Photo by Andy.)

After Andy put up Higher Stannard Direct (5.9), we went back over to Graveyard Shift.

I tried really hard but I felt nervous. The scary 5.8 part seemed scarier the second time around. The handholds were slippery and the footholds seemed very very small. Nevertheless I made it up to the roof, got my gear in place and tried my best to get over it. As I stood up to reach for the undercling hold above the roof-- the last hard move-- I realized, to my dismay, that I'd misplaced my feet. I wasn't set up right. I couldn't release my right hand and I couldn't fix my feet. I fell, cursing.

After a rest I went back up and sailed over the crux, furious that I'd blown it because of a single toe placement. I'll have to go back and try again.

Once we were done with Graveyard, I took a long look at the climb next door: Tough Shift (5.10a).

This was it: the last Mac Wall 5.10; the only one that I'd never tried.

The final frontier.

I'd racked up for Tough Shift once before, back in July, but on that day after checking out the start I decided I wasn't feeling it, and walked away. Though Tough Shift is far from the hardest of the tens on the Mac Wall, it is one of the more frightening leads in the area. It has a reputation for having lots of run-out climbing. In the guidebook, Dick says that Tough Shift is "not for the meek." I'd never seen anyone dare to lead it. It seems that most people are scared away by the orange face at the top, across which you do a rising traverse with no gear until you reach the big overhang. If you mess up here on this upper face you risk a swinging, sideways fall onto an old piton.

Standing there with Andy I felt ready. This was my favorite type of climbing, right? Anyway, I'd just led Graveyard Shift, which had to be more scary than this, surely.


(Photo: Trying to figure out the opening crack on Tough Shift (5.10a). Photo by Debra Beattie.)

Getting started, I had a bit of trouble working out the move to get established in the vertical crack at the bottom of the face. There are great nuts here, so it wasn't a big worry. And it turned out that getting established in this crack is the only 5.10 climbing on the route. Once I finally worked out this move it was smooth sailing up the crack to a ledge where a right-facing corner begins.

If you ever decide to lead Tough Shift, I advise you to get gear as high as you can when you are standing at the base of this corner, because there is no more gear until you are almost level with the piton at the upper crux. The climbing here through the middle is very run out, worse than the at the top of the pitch, though the climbing is also easier. There was little risk that I would fall but there was no question that a fall in this part of the route would have been bad.


(Photo: Andy resembling a rock ninja in the opening crack on Tough Shift (5.10a).)

Once I got through it and clipped the pin I spent quite a while at the top of the corner, contemplating the exit. I could see where I had to go but it took several trips up and down before I committed to moving left and putting myself out there. I backed up the pin by making another move up past it, placing a good nut in the crack at the roof atop the corner, and then stepping back down.

When I finally reached for the jug out left, it went fine. The move to the jug, and the next interesting move afterwards, are reasonably well-protected, I think. Then it gets into more risky territory as you keep climbing up but I felt with each successive move it got easier until I was level with the roof, where I could exhale and put in a bomber blue Camalot. The rest of the way was all gravy, moving further left to go over the roof above Graveyard Shift.


(Photo: Andy about to embark on the upper face portion of Tough Shift (5.10a).)

I liked Tough Shift and I would do it again. There is great climbing up the initial crack and on the orange face up high. The route has significant runouts, but they are in relatively easy territory. Because the unprotected climbing is pretty straightforward I think Tough Shift is less mentally challenging than either Men At Arms or Graveyard Shift. I expect others might disagree with me on this. All three of these climbs are serious, to some degree.

After we finished with Tough Shift, Andy was looking for a ten to lead and since we were standing right there I sent him up Star Action. As I've mentioned before, Andy is a very strong climber but his background contains more sport than trad climbing. He seemed nervous through the middle of the pitch, where there is gear to be had but it is a little bit tricky to place. At the crux, by contrast, he made the big reach over the roof look like child's play. As soon as he gets used to the sporty pro at the Gunks he's going to be unstoppable. I won't be able to keep up with him.

At the end of the day, I was a little bit sad that I couldn't say I'd capped the year off with a send of Graveyard Shift. But it will come, maybe this year, maybe next year. And now, after two days' work, I can say that I've done all of the Mac Wall tens. I still haven't led MF Direct (5.10a R), but I top-roped it easily earlier this year and I think I'm ready to lead it now. (I also have not done the roof pitches on the three tens that are just to the left of MF.)

The next-level challenge that I am mulling over is to lead them all, from left to right, in a day! This would involve:

Still Crazy After All These Years (5.10a)
Interstice (5.10b; 5.10d if you include the pitch two roof)
Mother's Day Party (5.10b)
MF Direct (5.10a; 5.10b if you tack on the Birdie Party roof)
Men At Arms (5.10b but not really)
Try Again (5.10b)
Coexistence (5.10d)
Star Action (5.10b)
Graveyard Shift (5.10d/5.11a) and
Tough Shift (5.10a)

A worthy project for next year? When the days get longer I may give it a try.

(Photo: I'm heading into the crux on Graveyard Shift (5.10d/5.11a) once again.)

After hosting the big family meal on Thanksgiving day, I was ready to collapse into a food coma. What with all of the cooking, baking and eating that came with the holiday, I felt ready for some rest and relaxation on Friday.

But duty called.

Alec asked me to go climbing. It was going to be quite nice in the Gunks, with a high approaching sixty degrees.

How could I refuse?

At this time of year, I tend to dial it back. Every November, as the days get shorter and cooler, my ambitions fade. I start cruising up old favorites instead of pushing my limits.

But 2015 has been such a great year for me. I don't want it to end. As November came to a close I couldn't bear to waste any remaining climbing days that came my way. I still had many projects I was eager to hit.

While I've been making some progress, Alec has really been on a roll in the Gunks. When I've run into him at the crag he has looked super solid to me. I knew he was more than able to handle anything I could come up with.

First on my list was Graveyard Shift (5.10d). I had failed to get the redpoint on my last attempt. I should have made it, but I messed up above the crux roof and stuck my right toe out too far, causing a fall at the final hard move! It was a silly mistake and I regretted it deeply in the days that followed. I knew that if I'd executed my beta properly I would have sent this climb.

I had to go back again. I told Alec that when we got to the Gunks on Friday, I wanted to march right up to Graveyard Shift and knock it off.

So that's what we did.


(Photo: Alec heading into the scary bulge on Graveyard Shift back in July, with his wife Liz-- also a strong climber-- handling the belay.)

Heading up, I got through the initial scary bulge in no time and danced up the face to the good hold beneath the overhang. I tried to place my crux gear quickly and then I briefly reviewed my strategy before firing it off. It was an instant success. The sequence went down easily and before I knew it Graveyard Shift was over.

It was 9:00 a.m. and my send of the year was in the bag.

Despite my numerous fumbling attempts at this route, I think Graveyard really isn't that hard. It is cryptic if you don't know where the holds are. So it's a tough on-sight. But now that I know what to do I think I really should send it every time going forward. This is in contrast to a route like Coexistence (5.10d), which I could easily fail to send tomorrow. Even if I do everything right, I might not make it.

Once we were done with Graveyard Shift, Alec and I moved just a little ways down the wall so that he could lead MF Direct (5.10a R). I was psyched to follow him up it because I wanted to check out the gear in preparation for a lead of my own.


(Photo: Alec placing gear next to the pin below the crux of MF Direct (5.10a).)

Alec made quick work of it and then decided to keep going, tackling the Birdie Party roof (5.10b) too. When I followed, I looked around to see if I could make the pro on MF Direct a little more PG than R. I managed to find a tiny vertical crack just over the roof in which I could seat a purple C3. It might hold in a fall, but I'm not sure it would be worth hanging in there to place it.


(Photo: Alec at the Birdie Party (5.10b) roof.)

I liked the Birdie Party roof. I'd never done it before. It requires a big move over the hang and then you aren't quite out of the woods once you stand up. There are a few more thin moves in steep territory before it is really over.

If you combine MF Direct with the Birdie Party roof, it makes for a great single pitch-- one of the best 5.10 pitches around, I'd say. You need a 70-meter rope to lower from the fixed anchor.

Now it was my turn to pick a route and there was something I knew we just had to do.

We needed to try Carbs and Caffeine (5.11a).

I've been talking about this route all year, and with the final days of the season fading away I couldn't think of any excuse not to finally get on it. Alec had never done it-- not even the first pitch-- and he generously gave me permission to lead the crux second pitch.


(Photo: Alec setting off on the 5.8/5.9 first pitch of Carbs and Caffeine, with the insane roofs of pitch two looming above.)

Alec knocked off the first part of the route without any problems. It is a really nice face climb, with a good technical crux protected by small nuts.

Standing at the bolted anchor atop the first pitch, I couldn't see where the route went. I knew there were two bolts up there in the sea of roofs, but I couldn't spot them.

I would have to get going and see how it went.

I set myself up for a hang-fest by moving very slowly and deliberately right from the start. I found out that the crux comes after you've already weaved your way up and left through several overhangs. It went roof, roof, roof... oh here's the first bolt, how nice! And by now I was already fatigued, hanging in there, and I was faced with a very cruxy, beta-intensive sequence to get up to and past the next bolt.


(Photo: Alec following pitch two of Carbs and Caffeine (5.11a).)

I had a tough time with the crux and after a few game attempts I had to hang. I kept trying to clip the second bolt from below, which was a tremendous waste of energy. Once I got the second bolt clipped (after several tries) I worked out a difficult but doable way to get through the move and I could finally get on with the rest of the climb.

The upper crux was still to come. Once I got beneath it, I was very intimidated. There is a no-feet traverse out from under a huge ceiling. Again you have to do a few roof moves just to get to the place where you start the crux. I wanted perfect pro for this sequence and I confess I took another hang at the optional belay point in order to fiddle with the gear and get my head together. I figured the send was already blown anyway.


(Photo: Alec getting into the intimidating final traverse on Carbs.)

Once I committed to heaving myself up into the space below the huge roof I was able to reach out and place a good piece further out to protect the traverse, and then I made it through the desperate moves to the fixed anchor. The hands were surprisingly good. It's really just about getting your toes on something, anything, as you move out from under the overhang.


After we were done with Carbs I was feeling pretty worked. But Alec was still full of energy and he proposed we try a route called Three Vultures Direct (5.10c). This variation route starts up the second pitch of Three Vultures (5.9) but then busts straight over a roof instead of traversing to the right. The Direct eventually goes up and left to join Amber Waves of Pain (5.10a) at its final roof problem. This route is described in the Trapps App but it isn't in Dick's guidebook.

After I led the first pitch of Face to Face to get us to the GT Ledge, Alec sent Three Vultures Direct but it didn't exactly look easy. The roof seemed like big pull and then Alec found another tough, technical sequence up the face before he ultimately joined Amber Waves. He found good gear along the way.


(Photo: A tough shot of a tough roof. Through the branches you can see Alec at the crux roof on Three Vultures Direct (5.10c).)

When I got up there I found out that I was really wasted. The roof was very difficult for me. I made it over but I was grateful I was on top rope. It is a good challenge, and the face climbing afterwards is also fun. I thought this variation was quite worthwhile, though it isn't as spectacular as its neighbor Face to Face.

We still had a little time before it got dark and I decided to sleepwalk up Silhouette (5.7+), an old favorite, to finish the day. I was wiped out. We'd done some hard pitches.

After this day with Alec the season seemed all but over in my mind. As I organized my gear at home, I noticed some of my slings were starting to look a bit beaten up. I calculated the age of all of my stuff and I realized I was long overdue for some gear maintenance. So I decided to get it all over with at once. I packed up all my cams and sent them off to be reslung. And I pitched my slings, bought a new backpack, and washed my rope.

Of course I did all this before I checked the forecast! It seems that this will be the season that never ends.

Luckily most of my climbing friends have their own gear. And in a few weeks when I have all my stuff back I'll really be ready to hit it in 2016.

(Photo: Gingerly exploring Avoid Where Inhibited (5.11a). Photo by Andy.)

So what's next?

What do I want out of the 2016 climbing season?

I've been asking myself this question all winter.

2015 was a great year for me. I broke through to a whole new level, climbing my first trad 5.11's and knocking off a bunch of the most legendary tens in the Gunks, including Ridicullissima, Erect Direction, Fat City Direct, Coexistence and Graveyard Shift, just to name a few! The year was like a dream come to life-- every visit to the Gunks seemed to produce a new milestone.

In 2015 I also took really fun trips to Seneca Rocks and Indian Creek. At Seneca I felt instantly comfortable on my feet and on-sighted several classic tens. At Indian Creek I was much less sure of myself but I still had fun working on the amazing splitters and learning the ways of the crack climber.

My last big goal for the year was to climb Carbs and Caffeine (5.11a) at the Gunks. I spent the whole year wondering if I could do it and working up the courage. I did finally attempt it in late November, though it was far from a send. I ended up hanging all over it, in both crux sections. Still, when it was over, I could see that this climb was possible. I knew what to do. I just needed to go back and execute, without a lot of dilly-dallying.

So as the winter began I knew that Carbs would remain on "the list" for 2016. But what else did I want to accomplish in the new year?

I have a list of Gunks elevens I want to tackle (i.e., virtually all of them). And there are so many great tens in the Gunks that I have plenty of them left to do as well. (Matinee (5.10d), I am looking at you.) And there are even a few twelves I am considering.

But I need more than a list of climbs. I need a plan. I want to keep my trajectory of improvement going. I don't want to plateau-- I think I have plenty of room yet to get better.

Over the past few months, the climbing days have been infrequent despite the relatively mild winter. As a consequence, When I've been able to get out I've taken it easier and not pushed it so much, although nowadays when I'm not pushing it I'm doing climbs that used to be a big deal to me.


(Photo: Adam below the intimidating Wishbone (5.10+) roof.)

In December I went to Lost City with Adam and had a great time on some climbs that I'd long wanted to attempt, and we also had a lot of fun trying to lead a few lines that were a total mystery to us. I was happy to on-sight the Wishbone (5.10+?) roof. I also made a game effort at the nearby Resistance (5.10c), but had to hang at the crux. I think Resistance is one of the nicest face climbs in the Gunks. It has consistent, beautiful thin moves up a little seam. I need to go back to lead it cleanly.

(Photo: Adam on Resistance (5.10c).)

There are so many great leads at Lost City. Just to the right of Resistance is another technical face climb called Cars That Eat People (5.11a), which I am dying to try. Further to the right, I have stared with wonder at Persistent (5.11+) on more than one occasion. The list goes on: I have never attempted the popular Lost City Crack (5.10), and I still have to go back and get the red-point on Stannard's Roof (5.10). And there are many awe-inspiring twelves and thirteens that can be top-roped and worked into submission.

Goal No. 1 for 2016: spend more time at Lost City!

I have also been out in the Nears a few times over these past few months. On a warm day in December I went there with Anna and Robbie. I was psyched to get clean leads on both Shitface (5.10c) and Transcon (5.10b). Shitface has nice climbing up a bulging, smooth face and then a brief but stout crux at the overhang. People say it is a scary lead but I thought the pro was good throughout, even above the crux where the route has a reputation for being necky.

Transcon, by contrast, was a frightening lead for me. I was quaking in my boots as I high-stepped on the low slab even though I had three pieces in. I know people have been injured here. Even with good gear it seems perilous. And at the top, above the well-protected roof, the finishing moves are truly run out and intimidating.


(Photo: Anna following my lead of Shitface (5.10c).)

I need to get used to Transcon, so I can run up it to set up the hard climbs that surround it. This part of the Nears is known as the "Workout Wall," because it is stacked with unprotectable hard climbs that are usually top-roped. In December, Robbie and I tried to do one of these, El Kabong (5.12c), on top rope, and neither of us was able to get past the crux-- it is steep, balancy and thin. But it was fun just working out the moves to get to the crux, and I think going back would be good for me.


(Photo: Robbie confronting the scary slab on Transcontinental Nailway (5.10b).)

I have barely touched on any of the hard climbing that is available in the Nears-- and actually I've not hit many of the cliff's classic tens like Elder Cleavage (5.10b) and Criss Cross Direct (5.10a).

Goal No. 2 for 2016: spend more time in the Nears!

In February and March we had some really good days for climbing. I got out a few times with Andy and sometimes a few others as well. I've previously described Andy as a person with a sport climber's mindset. He is still pretty new to the area, and trad hasn't been his big thing, so I have been acting as his Gunks tour guide for the last year or so. But I think I've been holding him back. He has been ripping it up in the gym lately and on our last few visits to the Gunks it has become clear to me that he is poised to do great things in our little trad paradise.

(Photo: Andy past the crux on Avoid Where Inhibited (5.11a).)

In February Andy and I were out at the far end of the Nears. I wanted to take a look at some of the elevens out there. We checked out Harvest Moon (5.11a but it looks harder). The starting chimney was slimy/wet so there was no chance we could do it. Moving over to the Voids, I attempted to lead the one on the right, Avoid Where Inhibited (5.11a). I hadn't been outside in a while and I felt tentative about committing to the move, even though the gear was so good that I was essentially on top rope, with two perfect red Camalots in the vertical layback crack at the crux. I made a few meek efforts at figuring it out and then decided I wasn't feeling it, and asked Andy if he wanted the lead.

(Photo: Andy trying to get started on Void Where Prohibited (5.11d).)

Andy flashed the right-hand Void in ten seconds. And he used exactly the same beta that I was experimenting with. I was mad at myself. I sent it on top rope and wished I'd been bolder.

Then Andy got greedy and decided to lead the other Void-- Void Where Prohibited (5.11d)-- but got nowhere. I couldn't do it either. There must be some very specific beta for getting your body into this blank corner right off the ground, but neither of us could find the solution.


(Photo: That's me on Last Frontier (5.10a) with Simon handling the belay. I liked this climb-- it was hard for me, but if you like jamming it will be easy for you. Photo by Gail.)

More recently, in March, Andy and I found ourselves with a group of climbers down at the Slime Wall. I was psyched to lead Falled on Account of Strain (5.10b) like it was no big deal, which was quite a change from my abortive on-sight attempt at this route a few years ago. This has to be one of my favorite tens. It combines wonderful face climbing with a truly outrageous, multi-tiered overhang. And I finally got around to red-pointing Simple Suff (5.10a/b), so I can take that one off of the list as well.


(Photo: Gail at the finishing lip of the roof on Falled on Account of Strain (5.10b).)

The real star of the day was Techno Suff (5.12a), which we top-roped from the Simple Suff anchors. This steep face has interesting climbing up an arching crack and then some big technical moves between small holds. When I tried this climb I fell several times but in the end I was pleased because I figured out every move and I could see myself sending it one day. Andy one-hanged it, which I found very impressive. He also on-sight led Frustration Syndrome with the R-rated direct 5.11b/c start. (The man is on fire.) I tried to follow him but I had to hang at the direct start and ultimately worked out a totally different solution than the way Andy did it. I don't know if I'd dare lead it. There is no gear for the hard move but a good spotter or a strategically placed backpack might suffice.


(Photo: Connie confronting the crack on Techno Suff (5.12a).)

On our most recent day out, I decided it was time to really get started with my season. Andy and I paid a visit to Carbs and Caffeine. Andy led the first pitch and then I set off on pitch two for my red-point attempt. It went pretty well. I ALMOST got it done. I led up into the roofs with some confidence and got to the 5.11 crux without wearing myself out too much. I clipped the first bolt and took a look. I basically remembered the beta from my last attempt so I didn't waste too much time before I made a big reach up to a sloper hold, matched hands, and then stepped up and left to some little crimps. It was a tough sequence but I got through it. I was crimping on to the tiny holds, and feeling a bit shaky, but I was still in the game.

Standing there, with the second bolt at my chest, I carefully grabbed a draw and clipped it. I wasn't quite done but I knew I was in good shape for the send, if only I could stop trembling.

I started talking to myself.

"Calm down," I told myself. "Breathe! One more move and you are out. Keep it together."

Andy couldn't see me but he could hear what I was saying. He called up to me. "Dude, you are scaring me!"

This snapped me out of my near-panic. I told him I was fine: I had two bolts clipped, after all. I made the move and got out of there.

I should have been home free but at the top of the pitch, right before the dreaded crab-crawl traverse, I forgot about a crucial hold from which it is easy to place gear. I wore myself out trying to place the pro from a bad hold and when I tried to step back down to shake out I got tangled in the rope and had to hang. It was disappointing. When I went back up and did the moves they felt much easier than the last time.

I will go back again. I can do this climb. I know it now.


(Photo: Andy on the 5.9 pitch one of Carbs and Caffeine (5.11a).)

After we were done with Carbs, Andy and I took a look at The Sting (5.11d). I've never really dreamed that I was capable of sending The Sting but Andy saw it and got more excited than I've ever seen him. The climb is short, perhaps just 50 feet, but it packs a punch. It has big moves between horizontals on a smooth white face. The first and last moves are both dynamic jumps. It is very unusual for the Gunks. Andy decided to lead it.

He placed a bomber blue Alien at the first horizontal and launched off on the dyno. He missed. The Alien held and Andy was caught a few feet off the ground. He tried without success a few more times, and then decided to lead up Lisa (5.9), the climb next door, so we could work The Sting on top rope.


(Photo: Andy heading up Lisa (5.9). I didn't care for this one. It is a two-move wonder with an awkward crux. But it is a very useful climb for setting up The Sting)

Andy had little trouble working out the moves on The Sting once he had the security of a rope over his head. It was much harder for me. I failed at the opening dyno over and over again. But with some helpful coaching from Andy I eventually was able to stick it-- on what was perhaps my 15th try. I couldn't get the other dyno at the top worked out but after I was done Andy went back up to work it again and I think now I can see what I was doing wrong.


(Photo: Andy getting set up for the dyno at the start of The Sting.)

I'm sure I'll get the chance to try it again. Andy left the cliff determined to come back and lead The Sting, and when he does I'm pretty sure he'll get it. And maybe I can get it too. These last few days at the Gunks have been the first occasions on which I've tried climbs in the 5.11+/5.12- range and not felt they were totally hopeless for me. If I make a concerted effort to work on these climbs I will continue to improve. Lately that sort of projecting doesn't seem so boring to me anymore.

Goal No. 3 for 2016: keep hanging out with Andy! He will push me to greater heights.

As it happens, Andy and I will be heading to the New River Gorge in two weeks for a four-day climbing trip. Gail is also coming with her son Max. The New has both sport and trad but for the first time in my life I am thinking that sport climbing should be my focus. I've never really given it a fair chance. And I want to really work at a "soft" 5.12 and see what I can do.

2016 has barely begun but I feel like great things have already happened. I'm in pretty good shape and it's still March. I am excited to see what the rest of the year will bring.

(Photo: Getting into the overhangs on Carbs and Caffeine (5.11a). Photo by Adrian.)

We live in an age of great environmental peril. Temperatures are climbing at an alarming rate. Ice sheets are melting. Scientists project that someday soon the oceans will rise up like giant gulper eels and swallow our coastal cities whole.

It is enough to make you feel guilty whenever the weather is nice. On days when it is warm and the sun is shining, it is hard to enjoy yourself without feeling at least a small, nagging tug of disquietude.

"What a wonderful day," you think to yourself.

"(We are all going to die.)"

So one might expect that yucky, cold days would provoke feelings of relief. Maybe if the weather is lousy, as befits the season, we are NOT going to die. Or not so soon, anyway. We ought to take comfort in any anecdotal evidence we can get that the end is not so near after all.

But it doesn't work that way. Not for me. When it is appropriately damp and cold in March, I am not grateful. I am resentful. I feel the weight of our impending doom, regardless of the present conditions. And I expect something in return. If my property is soon to be beneath the sea, the very least nature can do for me is to grant me some excellent climbing days before everything goes forever into the crapper.

Is that so much to ask?

I was supposed to take a trip to the New River Gorge at the end of this week. "This week" being practically mid-April, for crying out loud. But with snow (!!) in the West Virginia forecast for Friday, and an expected high of 37 degrees in Fayetteville on Saturday, it looks like we are calling it off. We had a contingency plan-- we were going to push it off for one week if the weather was lousy. But the forecast for next week is a solid wall of rain showers. So it looks like that ain't happening either.

I am feeling grumpy about it all. But I will make the best of it.

Maybe I'll console myself with a day in the Gunks, if it gets warm enough to melt the snow they got this week.

Since my last report, I did get out in the Gunks one time, with Adrian. The temperatures were in the low forties (just warm enough for climbing, in my opinion). Unlike my prior (sunny) day with Andy, this one was overcast and the air felt a bit damp.

My goal was to put Carbs and Caffeine (5.11a) away, once and for all. Adrian was willing to do it with me, so we trooped on down there first thing, hoping in vain that we would warm up on the walk.

(Photo: Adrian getting started on the 5.8-ish pitch one of Carbs and Caffeine.)

It was still cold and damp as we got started. Adrian led the first pitch without delay, but as I stood there belaying him I found myself shivering. I told myself I would feel warmer once I got up on the wall. Soon enough I was climbing and I joined Adrian at the anchor, ready to see if the third time would be the charm for me on the crux pitch.


(Photo: Coming up pitch one of Carbs and Caffeine. Photo by Adrian.)

This time I knew I had the beta. It had been only a week since I'd almost sent the damned thing. I expected that the crux move would be hard but as long as I executed my sequences properly I figured I would get through it.


(Photo: Ready to go for it on Carbs and Caffeine (5.11a). Photo by Adrian.)

Heading upward through the tiers of overhanging rock, I got to the first bolt without a problem. After I clipped it, I tried to move up into the crux right away, but when I made the big reach up to the sloper hold, I didn't like it. The rock felt slippery. I needed to match on the hold but I wasn't sure I could hold on in the current conditions. I stepped back down and tried to shake out beneath the crux.

Then I went up again. Still no good. It seemed like I was about to slip off the sloper. I had to step back down again.


(Photo: Adrian at the 5.11a crux of Carbs and Caffeine.)

If I didn't get on with this move I was going to end up taking a hang. I was shaking out in an overhanging position. I couldn't really rest. I wished I'd found the knee-bar rest at the crux that people talk about. I decided I couldn't afford to wait around any more.

On the third try I forced myself to commit to the match. I thought for a fraction of a second that I was about to go flying but, luckily, I didn't. I stuck it. And then I stepped up to the crimps knowing that I had this climb in the bag if I could keep it together. I tried to stay focused as I moved up the slab to the final challenge.


(Photo: Adrian in the final crab-crawl traverse on Carbs and Caffeine.)

This time I remembered to move up to the good hold in the corner before plugging in gear for the traverse. Placing a bomber blue Alien over my shoulder, I dove out there into space, hoping I would feel as solid on the no-feet crab-crawl as I had the previous week. But in the damp air the traverse felt a little bit harder. I nearly lost it when one of my toes slid off, but again I managed to hold on and with a few more moves I got around the corner to the stance. The pitch was over.

As I stood there backing up the fixed anchor I felt very relieved. And a little bit proud. Carbs and Caffeine, baby! And it was only March!

I was quickly brought back to earth when we moved on to The Winter. This pitch, at 5.10(d), is supposed to be marginally easier than Carbs and Caffeine-- but it is a very different style of climb, so it is hard to make a meaningful comparison. The Winter is a technical corner climb, with some awkward climbing up a slot before the real business begins in the smooth, thin corner.

The route has been a nemesis of mine. I find it intimidating and scary. I've backed off of it twice before even reaching the crux corner. The early going up the slot is kind of in your face (though it is definitely easier than 5.10+), and the cracks for gear are kind of flaring. On two occasions I've made the first couple of moves, and, confronting a committing sequence with so-so cams, I've decided to step back down and walk away.


(Photo: Starting up the awkward slot on The Winter (5.10d) in October 2014. Photo by Gail. The tights were in honor of Eighties Day in the Gunks.)

I'm sure my fear of the upper portion of the pitch has played a role in the urge I've felt to abort. From the ground it appears there are placements in the crux corner, but they are tiny nuts. There is a piton at the end of the hard climbing, but the move to get to that piton isn't easy and on the lead you are going to be above whatever small gear you can arrange in the corner.

This time around I hoped to commit to the move down low and then, once I reached the main corner, I would make sure I got the best pro I could get.

As I started the pitch I managed to place three pieces before committing to the move out of the initial slot. The move went fine and soon I was standing at the base of the desperate crux corner.

So far, so good.

But then it all fell apart.


(Photo: Finessing gear at the start of the crux corner on The Winter (5.10d). Photo by Adrian.)

I placed as much gear as I could manage. I got a good Alien at my knees and then I placed four (yes, four!) nuts in the corner. I liked a few of these nut placements but they were all small.

I had a hard time getting myself psyched up to launch on up above the nuts. I worked out the move but couldn't make myself go. Eventually I took a hang. Then I made the hard move up the corner but got really nervous making the stand-up move to the piton. I fumbled desperately and then took a real whip. The fall was clean, and now that I'd really welded my top nut in place I felt a bit better about climbing above it again. I went back up, made the final hard move and finished the pitch.


(Photo: Adrian on The Winter (5.10d).)

I'm not happy about how it went. I was so tentative. But now I have The Winter all sorted out. And now I know that The Winter is quite safe. The fall is clean and the nuts are good. Adrian had to fight to get some of them out. I think I should be able to go back and fire it off. And then I'll have to try the second pitch of The Spring (5.10d), directly above, which everyone says is a great roof problem pitch. I've never been on it.

I think Carbs and Caffeine and The Winter showed both my strengths and weaknesses as a climber.

On the plus side, I think I have reached a basic level of climbing proficiency (after many years of mediocrity). And I'm persistent, which is also a plus.

On the negative side, I know I have real mental challenges. I have a fear of falling. When the moves are hard I often find it difficult to commit, even when I'm certain that the gear is good. And when I do eventually commit, my fear makes me climb poorly. I get tunnel vision and fumble around because I am scared. It happened the first time I tried Carbs. And it has happened several times now on The Winter. The fear of falling has caused me to give up, to hang, and to fall.

It is a paradox. To some degree fear is healthy and necessary. Especially when trad climbing, you should always be aware of the risks of falling. It would be foolish and dangerous to behave as if falling were not a potential problem. But when reasonable caution morphs into irrational fear, the danger increases because failure becomes much more likely. The fear makes you fall when you might not have fallen otherwise.


(Photo: Feeling fine while running it out on the first pitch of Annie Oh! (5.8). Photo by Adrian.)

I'm not sure what I can do to address the issue except to keep trying hard. I've never been a big believer in taking practice falls, and I don't think my specific fear of falling would be addressed by the type of deliberate falling one does for practice. It isn't falling in and of itself that is the problem. I'm not paralyzed on easier climbs-- it's when I'm at my limit, or when I'm climbing on a style of route with which I'm uncomfortable.

The good news is that, as I push to work on harder climbs, the grade at which I feel free and easy is also getting higher. I think I really need to push myself to trust my gear and go for it more often. If I can do that, I'll have a shot at on-sighting more of these harder climbs, and I may reach a whole new level.

We'll see how it goes when I pick the next project. What should it be? Harvest Moon (5.11a)? No Man's Land (5.11b)? Square Meal (5.11a)? So many to choose from...

(Photo: That's me leading Resistance (5.10c) at Lost City. Photo by Connie.)

I'm getting frustrated.

"I don't think I can do this," I say.

We are in Lost City, in the area known as the Survival Block. It is ground zero for Gunks hard man top-roping.

I'm just one move off of the ground and I'm already flailing on an "easy" 5.12 top-rope. I need to get up an overhanging arête using invisible Houdini footholds. A juggy rail is just out of reach. I can't find a way to stay in balance and sneak up to the good hold.

Perhaps I can forget about advanced footwork and throw for the jug? My partner Andy has just done it this way.

I try for the throw and come up short, swinging out away from the wall a few feet above the talus blocks.

"Maybe this is pointless," I wonder out loud.

"You'll never know if you don't actually try," Andy says. "You have to do it again, and COMMIT this time."

I know he's right. My throw was utterly half-assed. I set up to try again, and fail again. But I'm improving: I get my fingers on the good hold for half a second.

"You've almost got it and you're still not really going for it," Andy observes. "Stop being such a WIENER about it, and you've got it made."

Again, I know he is absolutely right. What am I afraid of? Is it the harmless swing out into space? Could it be the crowd of onlookers, every one of them (I assume) a better climber than me?

I psych myself up to try again.

"Just do the move, idiot."

Eventually I get the jug.

The rest of the climb goes more smoothly. I don't get it clean but I quickly work out the difficult bits and believe I could do these moves again. Once I am back on the ground, I feel okay about it all.

Resistoflex is a Gunks 5.12. And it isn't that bad! It can be accomplished by mortals.


(Photo: Gabe taking a quick top-rope run on Resistoflex (5.12), with Andy handling the belay. Gabe led the pitch earlier in the day.)

If I come back to Resistoflex and run through it a few more times I might even consider leading it.

I'm still not used to this style of working routes, but I am coming around to it.


Years ago I dabbled a bit with the Gunks top-rope game and found it maddening, boring, even counter-productive. Twelves in the Gunks seemed cryptic and impossible. Why was I wasting my time shredding my tips on these climbs that I couldn't do and did not enjoy? I had a mile-long list of easier, leadable routes I desperately wanted to climb.

I recognized that other people achieved rapid progress by working these hard routes into submission. But I had a limited number of climbing days and I wanted to spend them doing full-length, world-class routes, not struggling for hours just to do a few hard moves. If slow improvement was the price I had to pay for adventure and on-sight leading, then that was a bargain I was happy to accept.

This way of climbing was very satisfying to me, for a while. But then I seemed to stagnate at the 5.10 level. I fooled around with the tens for years, having occasional success with the easiest climbs in the grade but struggling with the harder ones. The most impressive tens in the Gunks seemed beyond me, or too scary. Elevens? No way.

I wanted to get better, but I didn't want to sacrifice what I found most fun about climbing: going for the on-sight and trying new routes. So for a long time I just carried on in the same way, and didn't really get anywhere.

I finally broke through the plateau when I started treating my climbing as a series of projects. I picked climbs that I knew were pushing my limits. I hoped for the on-sight but if it didn't happen I did not give up and move on. Instead I thought about what I needed to do to come back and succeed. And then I made sure to return and put in the work.

This approach yielded dividends. I sent harder climbs than I'd ever considered possible before. And routes I used to struggle with seemed suddenly easy. I knocked off many of the legendary classics I'd always dreamed of doing. With my horizons broadened to include many climbs that were new and difficult for me, I didn't feel like I lost much of anything in terms of adventure.

And now it is 2016, a new season. In order to keep improving, I know I have to keep picking climbs outside my comfort zone. And recently I've started thinking that if I really want to get significantly better, I need to reassess my antipathy towards working on seriously hard stuff on TR.

So when Andy and I headed up to the Gunks on a recent Sunday, I was thinking about Lost City, the home of the hard top-ropes. Our friends Connie and Alex were coming along, and they also had the same idea, so we were all on the same page.....

...maybe.

I had several climbs I wanted to lead. I figured we would probably get around to doing something on TR eventually. But first I had some unfinished business to take care of with Stannard's Roof (5.10).


(Photo: That's me on Stannard's Roof (5.10) in 2013, struggling to get the wrong cam off of my gear sling.)

I led this route in July of 2013 and I should have sent it on the first go. I fell because I wasted all of my energy trying (and failing) to get a cam off of my gear sling. I remember it as a comical scene. I was fully horizontal in the roof, hanging in there forever in the slimy summer heat. My cams were all behind my back, dangling off of my gear sling into space. I couldn't see the gear. I had to fumble blindly to get at the cam I wanted. Finally I got the cam loose, but then as I reached up to place it I saw to my horror that I'd fished out the wrong cam. It wouldn't fit, and I was screwed.

After this incident I swore off the gear sling forever. I have racked on my harness ever since.

Now, almost three years later, I hoped to run through Stannard's Roof as our warm-up, with no drama. This was April, not July, and there was a chill in the air. The rock felt fine in the sun, but as I approached the roof I went into the shade under the big ceiling. The rock under there was quite cold to the touch. But I wasn't worried about it (cold rock = good friction!), and I tried not to waste any time as I moved out under the roof. I placed one cam, moved out some more, and placed another.

Everything was going great as I grabbed the holds at the lip of the overhang. I just had to rotate my body and reach up to the higher holds so I could stand up above the roof. I was almost done. Easy peasy.


(Photo: Andy coming up Stannard's Roof (5.10).)

But then I couldn't move. The rope seemed stuck. I looked down under the roof to see what the problem was, and I realized, once again to my horror, that I'd messed up. I had Z-clipped my two cams under the roof! This was a nightmare. Talk about a comical scene. What was I going to do now?

Moving up was not an option. I had to downclimb back under the roof to fix the cams. I couldn't see any alternative. So that's what I did. I reversed the moves, unclipped the second cam, and re-clipped it correctly. Then I had to climb back up and out again, and by this time the tips of my fingers were freezing. They were starting to burn. But I was determined not to blow it and I got out without falling.


(Photo: Andy making it over the lip on Stannard's Roof (5.10).)

I was furious with myself for making such a stupid mistake, but happy I was able to hang in there. I was so relieved to get to the stance above the roof.


(Photo: Andy leading an unnamed (?) 5.10 to the right of Stannard's. This is a good route, with a fun crux at the triangular overlap.)

Andy and I did a few more 5.10 leads and then went looking for Connie and Alex. They had started out climbing nearby, but at some point they'd wandered off. We found them at the Survival Block with some other folks we know from our gym, the Cliffs at LIC.

Gabe, a strong climber who is less than half my age, seemed to be leading the group. He'd set up ropes on Resistoflex as well as on Persistent (5.11d) and Survival of the Fittest (5.13a), and on Gold Streaks (5.11) over on the next wall to the right.

Connie was gamely going for it on Survival when we showed up. The climb looked brutally hard. But Connie was thrilled to be trying something that was a real challenge for her. Kat, another LIC regular, was taking multiple burns on Persistent, trying to pink-point it on lead with pre-placed gear.


(Photo: Kat on Persistent (5.11d), with Gabe belaying her.)

As I watched them gleefully working these routes, I knew that I should be doing exactly what they were doing. Why am I not more like them? If I had the same attitude, I would improve. I felt shamed. So Andy and I did some top-roping.

It went fine. The world did not come crashing down around us. We had fun. Andy and I ran up Gold Streaks (5.11), a wonderful route with poor protection. Then we gave Resistoflex a good effort, which in the end was very worthwhile, and not pointless at all.

Gabe offered me a run on Persistent, but I begged off. I had reasons, of course. I told myself that the climb has great gear; it seemed like I should save it for an on-sight attempt. But the real reason was that there were so many people around. Several of them were strangers to me. Such a big audience made me self-conscious. I felt like I didn't belong.

Honestly, I was being silly. But Connie and Alex had wandered off again, and this provided as good an excuse as any for us to clear out too. We wanted to find our friends. So we moved on.

(Photo: Alex on Gravity's Rainbow (5.12).)

We located them at the far right end of Lost City, laying siege to another 5.12. I'd never ventured this far over to the right before. The trail comes much closer to the cliff line at this end, and most of the rock is on little free-standing buttresses. I don't know the names of any of the routes in this area, but it looks like there are a bunch of easy scrambles... and one imposing, overhanging climb up a smooth face.

This is Gravity's Rainbow (5.12).

When Andy and I arrived, Alex had already set it up on TR. He was now climbing it, and was almost at the top, having figured out the hard bits. He was thinking about leading it at some time in the near future.


(Photo: Connie on Gravity's Rainbow (5.12).)

Once he was done, I watched Connie work her way up the route. It seemed like there were two very very hard cruxes. And one of them was wet.

I started thinking about finding something else to do. I could see a crack climb over yonder. It didn't look too bad, probably 5.9 or 5.10. Maybe Andy and I could go do that one...

But it was too late. Connie was finished. The rope was free. There was to be no escape.

It was my turn to man up and do some more 5.12 top-roping.


I'm getting frustrated again.

Is this really the move?

I'm supposed to hold on to this ridiculously small, greasy crimp? And then I have to rock up over a high heel hook?

This crux is heinous!

I find myself saying it again: "I don't think I can do this."

Andy says he's heard that one before.

But this time I'm doing my best to prove that I mean it. I really, truly, can't do it. I'm failing over and over again. My fingers won't stay on the hold. I can't find the flexibility to get my heel up. When I manage to get the heel up, I'm frozen. I have no leverage to rock up over the heel.

I keep on falling.

I'm conscious of the fact that it's about to get dark. We have to hike out of here soon.

I hate this.

But I have to admit I'm slowly getting better. When I first tried the crux I couldn't hold the crimp at all, but now I can step up, just so, and grab it as if it is an actual hold.

I keep working the angle on the heel hook and finally, after who knows how many attempts, it all clicks. I grab the crimp; I raise my heel; I lock it in. Somehow I'm shifting my weight over the heel hook and I find myself standing, not falling. I have done it.

My three friends cheer, mostly because now we can get our gear back and go home.

But never mind, I take it as validation.

I'm learning.

I can do this.

I can top-rope.

(Photo: Andy on Call 9-1-1 (5.13a), at the Endless Wall.)

I am sorry. It has been almost two months since my four-day trip to the New River Gorge in West Virginia

I have been slow to post about it.

I really, REALLY liked the New. I will definitely go again. I enjoyed the climbing we did and I'd love to find a way to do more of this style of sport climbing. And though we did some trad, we didn't really get a representative sample of what is available, so I'd like to go back to try some of the crack climbing in the gorge.

Andy and I planned our trip for mid-April, thinking it would be warm enough by then, but not too warm. The weather looked iffy as the trip approached. But Andy and I kept hope alive, and on the eve of our trip a new forecast materialized, and it was a thing of beauty. We were looking at four straight days of sunshine and temperatures in the sixties and seventies.

As I prepared to go to the New, I tried to get myself into the proper mindset. I'd always been a trad chauvinist. I'd never really given sport climbing a fair chance. It's not that I hadn't been sport climbing before. No, I'd had some exposure to sport climbing at several climbing areas, including Red Rocks, Rumney, the Red River Gorge, and Boulder Canyon. I'd enjoyed these areas.

But I'd always been cautious when sport climbing. I'd never truly embraced it, pushing my limits and climbing until I fell. I had been a sport tourist. This time I wanted it to be different. I wanted to go to the New and find out what I could do. I wanted to try hard climbs and maybe even work a route.

Crazy talk, right?

(Photo: I'm getting ready to fire the roof on Star Action (5.10b). Photo by Andy.)

Over the past few years I've gotten to know the Mac Wall pretty well. The wall is stacked with classic 5.10 climbs. For a long time I was intimidated by several of the routes, but as the years went by I eventually climbed all of them (except for Water King (5.10d R), which no one ever does). I'm very familiar with some of the climbs, especially the hardest ones, which took me multiple attempts to redpoint. A few of them I've only done once or twice, and one of them-- MF Direct (5.10a)-- I've only followed.

Last year, after I finally sent the testpieces Coexistence (5.10d) and Graveyard Shift (5.10d), it occurred to me that I might be ready to try to lead all of the tens at the Mac Wall in a single day. I was just thinking of the first pitches. The challenge would involve these ten climbs:

Still Crazy After All These Years (5.10a)
Interstice (5.10b)
Mother's Day Party (5.10b)
MF Direct (5.10a)
Men at Arms (5.10b)
Try Again (5.10b)
Coexistence (5.10d)
StarAction (5.10b)
Graveyard Shift (5.10d) and
Tough Shift (5.10a).

It is quite a list! Some of them are very hard and many of them have some serious moments.

I thought this would be a good challenge for me because while I believed it would be difficult, it didn't sound utterly crazy, like the day those guys did 30 pitches of 5.10. I know I can't match that. My challenge, by contrast, seemed within the realm of the possible for ordinary humans.

Still, leading ten 5.10's was much more than I'd ever tried to do in a day. I didn't know if I'd be up to it. I could really be dogging it by the end. Maybe at some point I'd get exhausted and become too frightened to keep leading hard climbs.

This wasn't a "birthday challenge," exactly. I wanted to do it when it was still cool out, and my birthday is in late June, which is not optimal Gunks season. Also I thought it would have to happen on a weekday, since the Mac Wall tends to get very busy and I didn't think I'd be able to afford to wait around for routes to open up.

But as 2016 got going I couldn't seem to find a time to do the challenge. Nor could I make it work out on a weekday. As we got into June and my birthday approached, I decided to call it a birthday challenge and just to go ahead and try to do it on my next day out, whenever that day turned out to be.

Andy and I were planning to climb on one recent Sunday. The high was supposed to be around 80 degrees. This was not ideal but I figured it would have to do.

I asked Andy by email if he would be up for belaying me on my Mac Wall challenge.

Being the good friend and partner that he is, Andy was an instant supporter.

"Challenge accepted," he wrote.

(Photo: That's me on C-Tips (5.10c).)

I've been searching all year for my next big thing.

(Photo: That's me on Never Never Land (5.10a). Photo by Adrian.)

5.10 is the premier grade at the Gunks. Everyone knows this. I sometimes refer to the Gunks as "Our Little 5.10 Paradise."

(Photo: Nancy following 10,000 Restless Virgins (5.10d).)

We are well into high season in the Gunks. I need to get my ass in gear.

(Photo: That's me, setting off with some trepidation toward the many roofs of No Man's Land (5.11b). Photo by Andy.)

I've been feeling good lately. I'm climbing better than I have all year.

And it's high season! We've had some beautiful fall days in the Gunks.

I am a man in a hurry.

For me the goal is simple: I want to push into the 5.11's. For real.

(Photo: A leader named Brian at the 5.11a roof on Levitation 29 (5.11c).)

Vegas, baby!

(Photo: Connie hanging out at the crux of pitch two of Nurse's Aid (5.10a).)

It was December in the Gunks.

Connie and I were on our way towards the West Trapps parking lot. We'd been climbing all day, thanks to temperatures above forty degrees. It was getting late in the afternoon and I had to get back to Manhattan for a dinner reservation. I figured we could knock off a quick climb like Retribution or Nosedive and then we'd hit the road.

But Connie had other ideas. She was pushing me to hop on Matinee (5.10d), a climb known as one of the hardest tens in the Gunks.

This was all my fault.

Connie had been reading my blog, so she knew that Matinee was one of my must-dos for the year. I'd said so. And the year was just about over! If I didn't do it now, the route would have to wait for 2017.

I wasn't sure I was up for it. With the season winding down, my ambitions were fading. And besides, we probably didn't have enough time left in our day. It was going to be dark in less than an hour, and we needed to get going.

We passed Matinee and walked into the Uberfall, only to find a big crowd beneath Retribution and Nosedive.

I should have known they'd be unavailable.

What was my backup plan?

I didn't have one.

It looked like I would have to do Matinee. We walked back over to it.

I'd never been on Matinee. Connie had seconded the route before. She mentioned in passing that the person she followed on her first visit to the route was trying to complete all of the star-worthy 5.10's in the Trapps. Matinee had been one of the last ones on his list.

As she said this, I realized that I'd basically done the same thing. I'd been working through the tens in the Trapps for years, and by now I figured I'd done almost all of them. Matinee was one of very few left on my personal hit list that I had yet to try. It was still sitting there, unclimbed by me, because of its stout reputation.

It occurred to me that Connie's remark could provide me with a new purpose: I could polish off the 5.10 grade. I could lead every star-worthy pitch of 5.10 in the Trapps-- and in the Nears too, why not? I would have to comb through the Williams books later to see what I'd missed. There couldn't be too many of them left.

I haven't worked through them in a systematic way. I just try to do new tens in the Gunks all the time. And the last couple of days I've had in the Gunks have been no exception. Though I didn't know it at the time, I was subconsciously working towards completing my new project.

The weekend before my day with Connie, for example, I was out with Gail and I ticked off a couple of tens from the list.

We did Dis-Mantel (5.10b), a short climb up a big block with two good roof cruxes.

This was a climb I'd tried in 2012, and on that occasion I'd been completely unable to do it. There is a very reachy move over the first roof. In 2012 I couldn't even come close to making the reach.


(Photo: Gail's shot of me at the second crux roof on Dis-Mantel (5.10b).)

I thought for sure that now, after all these years, it would be no problem for me. I am a much better climber these days.

So I tried it. And I found out that it is still hard for me. I had to step up and down several times. I rearranged my feet, sucked my hip into the wall, and stretched with all of my might... and eventually barely reached the good hold over the roof. It is a weird move. I'm glad I made it, so I don't have to do it again. I usually react with scorn when people say a route is height-dependent, but this time I believe it. If you are tall, this move won't even be hard for you. But if you are 5' 6" like me (or shorter), it will be tough.


(Photo: Gail at the first crux roof on Dis-Mantel (5.10b).)

The second crux on Dis-Mantel is also no gimme. It used to be the "5.8" crux of the whole route before the first roof got harder due to rock breakage. The second roof is definitely easier than 5.10b, but not by much. As I planted my toe at the roof level and rocked up over it, clawing at tiny finger pockets, I wondered how anyone could call this 5.8.

Dis-Mantel is a good climb. It is well worth doing.

Gail and I also did Co-Op Direct (5.10a), an unpopular line just to the left of Welcome to the Gunks (5.10b). The regular Co-Op wanders a lot and is rated 5.8. The direct variation goes straight up some steep flakes and through a shallow overhang instead of veering left and back right to avoid the hard stuff. If you do the direct version you can skip the hanging belay suggested in the guidebook and continue instead through the 5.8 crux of the traditional pitch two, which then puts you very close to the brand new bolted anchor above Welcome to the Gunks.


(Photo: Gail coming up Co-Op Direct (5.10a).)

The next weekend, with Connie, I attempted a few more of the last remaining pitches on my 5.10 tick list before we got around to climbing Matinee.


(Photo: Connie leading pitch two of Arrow (5.8).)

Connie had expressed an interest in doing Feast of Fools (5.10b). We warmed up on the nearby Arrow (5.8), and as Connie led pitch two of Arrow I took a good look at pitch two of Nurse's Aid (5.10a). Pitch one (5.10c) was one of my prouder on-sights in 2015, But I'd never gotten around to trying the second pitch.


(Photo: An unknown leader on pitch two of Nurse's Aid (5.10a). I took this photo in May of 2010 from the bolted anchor above Limelight (5.7).)

Pitch two is reputed to be a sandbag at 5.10a. It is also a great photo op, with a super-exposed swing out of an alcove to the side of a white block hanging in space. The climber must figure out how to traverse out a horizontal crack in the block, moving around onto the main face of the cliff. Or you can mantel up over the crack and then walk around onto the face. I had heard of people doing it both ways. It looked very intimidating.

I decided it was time to give it a try.

Early in the pitch I found wetness and loose rock. At the start the climbing was easy but there was a lot of slime to avoid. And then through the middle of the pitch the rock quality was terrible. Everything seemed potentially loose and there was at least one bona fide death block hanging there, with chalk all over it. I was able to avoid touching it, but it seemed like it would be pretty easy to send this thing tumbling down. I wouldn't want to be there when it happens.

Just past the scary block things improved. There were some nice layback moves up a vertical crack just below the alcove. When I reached the alcove, things got interesting. It took a real gut check before I could commit to swinging out to the crux horizontal, even though I was able to arrange bomber gear before making the moves. And once I got out there I really felt all that air beneath me!


(Photo: That's me in the thick of things on pitch two of Nurse's Aid (5.10a). This photo was taken by Mountain Project user cvanpak, from the GT Ledge.)

I wish I could say I got the on-sight cleanly, but I did not. I tried heel-hooking out the horizontal and then rocking up over my heel but I couldn't make it work and eventually I took a hang. When I went at it a second time I found another way to mantel up over the crack. Once I figured out the move it felt straightforward; the grade of 5.10a seemed fair enough. (The move is rather similar to the 5.10a crux move of Coprophagia.) Traversing all the way out the horizontal crack and around seems to me like it would be harder.


(Photo: My shot of Mountain Project user cvanpak on Limelight (5.7), taken from the top of Nurse's Aid.)

Pitch two of Nurse's Aid is a lot like pitch one, in that the first part of the pitch stinks but later on it becomes awesome! I would gladly repeat both pitches, and now I have to go back for the send on pitch two. It will be easy for me the second time, I think, since I've worked it out.

After we finished with Nurse's Aid, Connie got her on-sight of pitch one of Feast of Fools (5.10b), motoring through it without a moment's doubt. I was happy for her. I'd led this first pitch a couple of times but, as with Nurse's Aid, I hadn't tried pitch two, another star-worthy pitch of 5.10a. Ever eager to knock off another new pitch of 5.10, I went ahead and led it.


(Photo: Connie on pitch one of Feast of Fools (5.10b).)

It went well, though it wasn't quite what I expected. The pitch ascends a left-facing corner. I assumed there would be some kind of weird crux move to get around the corner, sort of like MF (5.9) or Moxie (5.9).

It turned out to involve steep, burly climbing straight up the corner, using obvious jugs and crimps. It was more like MF Direct (5.10a) than the regular MF, though I would say the crux moves on pitch two of Feast of Fools are a little bit more sustained than MF Direct. I liked the climbing well enough. It was a bit dirty after the crux. The gear was adequate. I put in a piece to back up a fixed Tricam right below the hard moves, and I placed a small cam in the middle of the crux that seemed kind of iffy. I think I could have wormed in a nut if I'd been more diligent.

Anyway, it is worth doing once. It isn't nearly as good as pitch one.

(Photo: Gail reaching for the arete on the fun link-up Basking Ridge (5.7).)

"Ugh. I'm never doing THAT again!"

So I said, to Gail, as I got past the undercling crux on Inverted Layback (5.9).

I meant it, too. I'd not been happy confronting this challenge. I hesitated and repeatedly stepped up and down before throwing myself into the crux. I built a three-piece anchor under the big downward-facing, off-width flake, trying with each new placement to conjure some confidence. Worried I'd slip off of the face and slam sideways into the wall, I'd contorted myself as far to the right as I could before bringing both feet up, trying to minimize the number of moves I'd need to make on the slab under the flake.

I knew it would be like this. I'd put this climb off for years, scared of the crux, and now here I was, in the crux, acting scared.

But when I finally committed, it was over in a flash. It was just one move, not that bad, and I was through it.

I was relieved. I had done it and I never needed to go back up there again.



(Photo: I'm up there behind the branches, just past the crux of Inverted Layback (5.9). Photo by Gail.)

Of course, with a few days' perspective I see the climb in a totally different way. I remember the fun moves up a vertical crack at the base of the cliff and then the cool wide crack in the center of the wall. Good climbing all the way, and the crux, while committing and tenuous, is unusual for the Gunks. It is like something you'd find in Yosemite. It is good practice.

You should try Inverted Layback! I'm going to do it again. Some day, I swear.



(Photo: Gail following me up a slightly drippy Baskerville Terrace (5.7).)

This was last Sunday, the first really nice day of Spring. A new season was just under way.There was a feeling of great possibility in the air. And moisture. Lots of moisture. Everything was kind of wet.

But I couldn't let the occasional drippage on the cliff get me down. 

I had goals. 

I had a list.

Late last year I decided I needed to successfully lead every "star-worthy" 5.10 in the Gunks. I looked through the guidebooks and found that there weren't too many left for me to do. I resolved to knock them all off in 2017. It wouldn't be that hard to accomplish, if I made an effort to tick something off the list every time I went to the Gunks. 

Already this year I have managed to do some of them.

In February, I got together with a new partner named Sudha. Unlike me, she is a real alpinist. She has gotten frostbite. She plans to climb K2. 

I may have come off as a little intense to Sudha and her friends. When we got together, everyone was still in a wintry mode, sipping cocoa, complaining about the cold, talking about the snow that was still on the ground.

Except for me, that is. I was saying "Let's go! It's sending weather! I have a list!" 

I hope I didn't seem insane.

With Sudha, I led Directissima Direct (5.10b/c). This variation on Directissima (5.9) takes the traditional 5.8 start off the ground and around the nose of the High E buttress, but then goes straight up the face past a piton instead of ascending the easy ramp to the right. After some steep, thin 5.10 moves up a pair of vertical cracks, the Direct rejoins the regular route about halfway through its 5.9 finger-rail traverse. 



(Photo: I've just gone around the nose on Directissima, and I'm about to head up through the 5.10b moves on the Direct. Photo by Sudha.)

Though I'd done Directissima several times, I'd never gotten around to trying this 5.10 variation. I really liked it. The hard climbing is brief, but it is technical and demanding. And it is sandwiched between the best parts of the traditional Directissima. The variation makes a great route even better.

I got out again with Sudha in early March and we knocked two more of my tens off the list. 

First, I led Stirrup Trouble (5.10b). This climb wasn't new for me, but last year when I attempted it I was spooked by the opening moves off the block and I turned the lead over to my partner Andy. Then after he led it, I followed it easily and felt like a yellow-bellied, chicken-hearted loser-face.



(Photo: I'm plugging gear, past the steep start of Stirrup Trouble (5.10b). Photo by Sudha.)

This year I did better. I got on the wall and placed a blue Alien over my head. Then I stepped back down to the block and inspected the piece. Once I was satisfied with it, I stepped back up and climbed the route. It went well, and man, what a climb! So many challenges, so many great moves. This is one of the best tens in the Trapps. It is too good for the Uberfall. And despite its reputation as a challenging lead, there is gear literally everywhere after the opening moves. I will return to this route again and again.


(Photo: Sudha getting close to the finish on Stirrup Trouble (5.10b).)

Sudha and I also did Nemesis (5.10a). I'd checked this route out from the ground before. I hadn't liked the apparent lack of gear. But now? It was on my list of star-worthy tens, so I HAD to do it... or not really. Of course I didn't have to. But I thought I could get on the wall and see how it went. Dick Williams says it's PG, and I'd felt really good on Stirrup Trouble, after all.



(Photo: Past the hard bits on Nemesis (5.10a). See all the gear? Photo by Sudha.)

The climb offers bouldery thin face moves for about twenty feet. The climbing is decent, but the pro isn't. I got an Alien in a little slot about two moves up. This protected the hardest bit, but there were some non-trivial moves that followed with no additional gear. You get back in groundfall range well before you find any more pro. I would say Nemesis is 5.10(a) PG, as Dick says, but there are some moves of 5.9 R. And the climbing is just okay. I can't fathom why Dick gives this climb two stars. Maybe the second pitch is better than it appears; we didn't do it. It looks dirty and loose. I wouldn't bother with this climb again. 



(Photo: Sudha dancing her way up Nemesis (5.10a).)

Last Sunday, with Gail, I had to find another ten to put away. But everything seemed damp. The crux notch on Outer Space Direct (5.10b) was dripping wet, as was Fat Stick Direct's (5.10b) roof. The mossy corner at the bottom of Criss Cross Direct (5.10a) was seeping.

But then again, isn't it always?

I guessed I had to do Criss Cross Direct. It appeared to be dry in the crux crack. It was on my list. And it's a three-star classic.

This climb is similar to Inverted Layback, in that I've avoided it for years. I've walked past it a million times, scared to confront the unusual climbing challenges contained within it.

When I say that I've "walked past" it, I'm not being entirely honest. It would be more accurate to say I've walked right up to it.... and then I've slinked away. I've racked up for it and stood beneath it, sincerely intending to climb it. And then after looking it over, I've chickened out. On one occasion I actually placed some gear in the opening crack and tested some jams before deciding I had no idea how I was going to get up this thing. And then I walked away.

Criss Cross is often described as an "entry-level" 5.10, and I can't understand why. I think people consider it an approachable ten because the crux is right off the ground and there is gear. But to me, the low crux is not a selling point. The climbing is slippery and strange, up a severely overhung water-polished vertical crack in a corner. Although you can place a piece over your head before you start, I'm not sure this piece will keep you from decking if you fall out of the crack after a few moves.



(Photo: Wondering how I'm going to climb Criss-Cross Direct (5.10a). Photo by Gail.)

On Sunday, as I stood there with Gail, I still didn't know how I was going to get up it. I wanted to jam it. I figured that if I were a decent climber, I would definitely jam it, rather than gamble on a slippery layback up the crack. My granite-loving friend Adrian would SURELY jam his way up it-- and he would declare it easy.

If there were any justice in the world, it would be easy for me too. I have jammed before. I have been to Indian Creek, for goodness' sake. I have been to Squamish. I don't like to brag about it, but I have even sent the medium-hard hand crack at my local gym! I should know how to do this.

But I couldn't find the jams on Criss Cross Direct, nor could I figure out how to use my feet beneath such theoretical handjams. Jamming just doesn't come naturally to me. After much testing, rearranging gear, and stepping up and down, I wasn't any closer to a solution, but I finally found myself with both feet on the wall and both hands in the crack, one of them jamming and the other laying back.

It was on.

After releasing my one jam and placing more gear, I resorted to laying back the rest of the way. The jamming was over. I tip-toed my feet carefully up the wall.

I felt like a fraud. I should have been jamming.

The layback was pretty sketchy. The rock was slippery, and at one point I said to Gail "I don't have it," thinking I was on the verge of sliding out of the crack. But I kept moving and managed to reach the jug next to the fixed piton without falling. I was happy to have made it.



(Photo: Working it out on Criss-Cross Direct (5.10a). Photo by Gail.)

After clipping the pin I tried to regroup and stop shaking so I could focus on the next sequence, a smeary step up onto a slab with some blocky features for the hands.

This move was surprisingly hard. I stood up on the slab and was looking in vain for a decent handhold when my toe popped off.

For a split second I was falling, but somehow I held on to the jug below and slid down to some kind of toehold. I was still on the wall, though I wasn't sure how.

Had I weighted the rope? I didn't think so. Gail scolded me for not taking the fall; she thought I risked injuring my shoulders by hanging on like that.

At any rate, I stepped back up, very thoughtfully, and after a couple of moves the climbing eased off enough that I could relax and say:

"I'm never doing THAT again!"

But there was still a lot of climbing left to do. In order to take this climb off my list I had to do both pitches. I elected to do the whole thing in one pitch to the top.

And I really enjoyed the rest of Criss Cross Direct.

I loved the thin face climbing just after the traditional pitch one belay. The climbing here is pretty run out but probably no harder than 5.8+. After a few delicate moves off the belay I got a single tiny nut, and then there was practically nothing until I reached the overhangs. From there I found it well-protected through the two roofs. The second roof is a puzzler. It is hard to figure out where to exit, but once you spot the holds, the climbing isn't too bad.



(Photo: Close to the first pitch anchor on Criss Cross Direct (5.10a). You can see the final roof at the top of the cliff, above my head. Photo by Gail.)

By the time I reached the trees I was ready to endure the whole thing all over again. Criss Cross Direct has a ton of great climbing on it, and it calls for a wide variety of techniques. I am proud to have on-sighted it, though I did so by the thinnest of margins. (I'm counting it!) And I don't think you can say you've done Criss Cross Direct unless you've done the whole climb.

I feel like I'm in pretty good shape as 2017 gets officially under way. I am climbing decently and I seem to be in good health. I'm excited to keep working through my 5.10 list and to soon resume hitting the elevens in the Gunks. I even have a couple of 5.12 projects in mind, which I'd like to work with an eye towards a head-point lead. 

I also have a trip planned in the late spring with my old buddy Adrian. The plan is to go to the California Needles, which has been a long-time dream of mine. But the record snow pack in California this year is raising doubts that we'll be able to get to the Needles, so we may have to shift our sights to another southern California target like J-Tree or Tahquitz/Suicide.

Wherever we end up going, I'm looking forward to big adventures in a new place. And some more practice hand-jamming!

(Photo: Climbers finishing the second pitch of High Exposure (5.6+) in 2011.)
In the fall of 2008, I led the crux pitch of High Exposure (5.6+).

I'm sure you already know all about this classic climb. It is one of the most popular moderate routes in the United States. Leading "High E" is a right of passage for many Gunks climbers. It may not be quite as cutting-edge today as it was at the time of its first ascent in 1941, but the climb still delivers a thrill. Making "the move" out from under the third-pitch overhang and stepping onto the steep face, high above the talus, requires commitment. The juggy climbing to the top goes through exciting territory, on a pointed buttress sticking out from the main wall of the Trapps.



(Photo: A leader on the crux pitch of High Exposure (5.6+) in 2013.)

When I did High E, I was a beginner of the most traditional sort. My progress had been slow. I'd been climbing in the gym for two years with a small group of friends, none of whom had much more outdoor experience than I did.

I had been to the Gunks and had begun taking the sharp end on some of the easiest routes. I found these routes a little too easy, but having no real guidelines to tell me what I should do, I erred on the side of caution.

Whenever I went to the Gunks I saw lots of newbies just like me, lining up to fumble their way through classics like Three Pines (5.3) or Beginner's Delight (5.4). This seemed like the way it was done in the Gunks. It was a noble tradition. 

I had no idea that in some circles, it was considered normal to send 5.12 after just a year or two of climbing experience. Or that to many climbers, 5.10 was regarded as a casual grade.

In my world, you moved slowly up the grades, one at a time. And I was just getting started. I couldn't imagine what 5.10 would feel like. 

I was fine with that.

But I wanted to make SOME progress. I was hungry. I wasn't always sure that the other climbers I saw around me felt that same hunger. 

I remember one illustrative occasion during my earliest climbing days at the Gunks, with my first climbing partner, Greg. 

On this particular day, we were setting up to climb Ursula (5.5). While we were getting organized we watched another climber struggling in the crux of the nearby Bonnie's Roof (5.9). As I recall, the leader looked a bit sketchy as he muscled his way through the overhang. His footwork wasn't what I'd call graceful, but he persevered and eventually made it up over the roof. He let out a cry of joy and relief as he reached the rest stance.



(Photo: Adrian attacking Bonnie's Roof (5.9) with pristine footwork, in 2015.)

Greg and I were both captivated by this performance. I assumed that the two of us were similarly drawn to what we had just witnessed. This was the real deal! I aspired to do things just like this. 

But then Greg spoke, revealing just how different our mindsets really were.

He said "I'm never going up there, but that looked pretty cool."

I was shocked. It had never occurred to me that I would NOT want to go up there. I wasn't ready yet, of course-- I wasn't good enough-- but some day I would be. No one was going to stop me from going up there eventually. That was the whole point of mucking about on 5.5's like Ursula, wasn't it? To get ready for climbs like Bonnie's Roof. 

I was determined to go up there. 

I just had to figure out the best way in which to work up to it.

I needed someone who would support me and push me along.

I found that person in Vass. He had lived in Boulder before moving to New York and he had years of trad experience in places like Lumpy Ridge and Eldorado Canyon, in addition to the Gunks. He had been on routes far beyond the extremely modest beginner's climbs I had so far encountered. On his first day in the Gunks, before he and I met, he had climbed Modern Times (5.8+), a feat that seemed extraordinary to me at the time.

Vass had an easygoing competence with the systems used in climbing, and he was familiar with the routes I dreamed of doing. I quickly came to see him as a mentor and to trust his judgment. After just a few gym sessions together he told me that he thought I was ready to tackle Gunks classics like Shockley's Ceiling (5.6) and High E (5.6+).

This was a great gift. Vass gave me permission to make progress. On our next trip to the Gunks, we did Shockley's Ceiling, and when that went off without a hitch we turned our sights to High E. 

I don't know if I slept well the night before we planned to hit High E. And I can't tell you how I felt as I stared up at the route from the ground. The truth is that I don't remember. In fact, I can't say much about the first two pitches. I am pretty sure Vass led them, to set me up to lead the crux third pitch. 



(Photo: Climbers on High Exposure (5.6+) in 2014.)

But I recall what came next as clearly as if it happened yesterday. I was excited just to be up on the pointed, triangular belay ledge for the first time, enjoying the panoramic views down the cliff face in both directions.

After taking possession of our huge rack, I took a deep breath and began climbing, moving off the ledge, and up a slab to the right, until I was at a somewhat awkward stance beneath the edge of the overhang. After burying a cam under the lip and slinging it long, I reached blindly above the roof, feeling around for something to hang on to. Finding a juggy hold, I grabbed it tightly and swung out from underneath.

"Congratulations," Vass said. "You just did 'THE MOVE.'"

"Really?" I thought. It hadn't been a big deal. It felt a bit anticlimactic. I had built it up so much in my mind.



(Photo: A climber making "the move" out from under the overhang on High Exposure (5.6+) in 2015.)

I kept on climbing. The rest of the pitch was steep, with lots of positive holds and gear available pretty much everywhere. I found it exciting to be up there, to be sure, but most of my excitement derived from the fact that I was doing such a legendary climb, and not so much from the climbing itself. The actual moves weren't particularly noteworthy. Unlike Shockley's Ceiling, which has an unusual crux, High E struck me as more like a gym climb, overhanging but not mysterious.

On the other hand, it was remarkable that such a steep face could be so friendly, with so many holds. And the position was everything it was cracked up to be. As I ascended, I made sure to look around. I tried to take my time and savor the breeze as I took in the view.



(Photo: Leader on High Exposure (5.6+) in 2017.)

When I reached the top I was overjoyed. I had just led High E. It had turned out to be well within my abilities. Vass' faith in me was justified. I was on my way to becoming a real Gunks climber.

I couldn't wait to tell anyone and everyone what I'd climbed that day. That evening, at a family gathering, I dragged out my guidebook so I could show my brother-in-law (who knew nothing of climbing) a photo of what we'd done.

He didn't know enough to be impressed.



(Photo: Climber in the distance on the High E belay ledge in 2014.)

Vass and I went on to do a lot more climbing in the Gunks over the next couple of years, until he moved back to Boulder. He was there with me when I led my first 5.7 (Classic), as well as my first 5.8 (Arrow) and 5.9 (Ants' Line) the following year. And of course, in the years since then I've gone on to break into new grades, with new legendary climbs to experience at every level.

But seldom have I felt the same excitement, the same tingly feeling of anticipation mixed with glowing satisfaction, that I felt on the day I first climbed High Exposure.

I'm always chasing that feeling, hoping to find it again. I found it on the day in 2009 on which I led Bonnie's Roof, sending the route by the skin of my teeth in just as sloppy a fashion as that climber Greg and I had watched a few years before.

And I got there again just over a week ago when I returned to the High E buttress for the umpteenth time, with my current partner Andy.

We were not there for High E, but for another classic route called Enduro Man's Longest Hangout (5.11c). I wanted to lead the third pitch.

A route like Enduro Man is not considered super hard by today's climbing standards, but in the world of your average trad guy like me, it is pretty serious business, a major milestone sort of climb.

At 5.11c, it was uncharted territory for me, but I believed that I could do it. It looked to be very steep, with many tiers of overhangs (crux #1), followed by a technical traverse to the right (crux #2), and then easier moves to the finish. I hoped that it would turn out to be similar to No Man's Land (5.11b), a climb that I did last year: relentlessly overhanging but with moves that aren't all that hard, relatively speaking.

I knew Andy would be up for it. 

Andy is in many ways the yin to my climbing yang. He started climbing around the same time I did. But while I was very slowly working my way up the trad ladder, Andy moved quickly to hard sport climbing and never looked back. He is one of those types of guys I mentioned above, progressing to 5.12 within a short time and staying there for the better part of a decade, while I've spent years and years fiddling with gear and fighting my way through the 5.10 grade.

I often describe Andy as a sport climber on this blog, though that really isn't fair to him.  He can lead trad and he does. On his first day in the Gunks he led Try Again (5.10b), and it went down easily! But his real love is clipping bolts, and when he goes to the Gunks to trad climb with me he tends to let me set the agenda.

Lucky for him that's what I like.

As we drove up to the Gunks, I told him about my plan to climb Enduro Man. It didn't mean much to him but he was supportive.  For my part, I started to get that tingly feeling of anticipation before we even hit the parking lot. 

I decided to get up to Enduro Man by doing the first pitch of Lakatakissima (5.10b). This pitch gets no stars in the guidebook and I've never seen anyone on it. But I had heard that it is actually good. 

Lakatakissima is overshadowed by the two popular climbs to its left, Ridicullissima (5.10d) and Doubleissima (5.10b); understandably so, since these are two of the best 5.10 pitches anywhere. (Four out of five dentists agree: Doubleissima and Ridicullissima are the best!) Since the climbs next door are so good, most people don't even bother to look at Lakatakissima.



(Photo: This is Andy leading Doubleissima in 2016. He is at the initial ledge where Doubleissima goes left and Lakatakissima goes a few feet to the right.)

The start is the same as Doubleissima, but after forty feet when you reach the small ledge, Lakatakissima jogs right a few feet to a vertical crack system that is next to a small tree in the gully. From here the climb goes pretty much straight up the face to a roof. I thought this part of the route was excellent, with interesting steep moves.

In the guidebook, Dick Williams suggests that you should step left and briefly join Doubleissima just before the roof but I found this to be totally unnecessary. I kept the line independent and went straight up (with one fairly big move) to the obvious 5.10 notch, where I could bust through the roof about five feet to the right of Doubleissima.  After you clear the roof it is nothing but fun, juggy 5.8 climbing up to the GT Ledge.



(Photo: Another shot of Andy leading Doubleissima (5.10b), in 2016. While Andy's route will break through the roof directly over his head, the Lakatakissima notch is also visible just a few feet to Andy's right.)

Lakatakissima is absolutely worth doing. It is very similar in style to its more beloved neighbors on the same wall, which makes it very good indeed. You should do this route. I felt great warming up on it. It gave me confidence for our real objective: Enduro Man.



(Photo: Andy making the final moves on Lakatakissima (5.10b).)

When Andy joined me on the ledge I pointed up at the cascading series of overhangs that we were about to climb.

Andy took one look and said "holy shitballs!"

I have to admit, I felt the same way. It was pretty daunting.

I told myself that the gear would be good and that the falls would be clean. And I headed upward.

The early going is easy until you reach the first of the several overhanging tiers. I plugged in a couple of good pieces and then spent a fair amount of time testing holds, moving up and down, checking the gear, and trying to figure out where I was supposed to go. Occasionally I climbed down out of the roofs to the stance where I could shake out and think about my options some more.

Eventually I decided I had to commit to something. I moved up on a sidepull that was reasonably positive and was overjoyed to find more holds above it. With a few more reaches I got to a dead end beneath a larger roof. Plugging in more gear, I realized that I must have cleared crux #1. 

Now I had to move to the right, and there was no rest stance to retreat to any more. The clock was ticking. It was time for crux #2. I could see a great-looking handhold about six feet to my right, but how to get there? I kept testing some slopers. I didn't feel great about them, but I knew if I didn't move soon I would flame out. So once again I committed to what I had. After a somewhat dicey hand match I made it through. I was almost astonished to find myself latching on to the good hold. 

I had to suppress a shout of exhilaration. I knew I'd just completed all of the 5.11 climbing. If I could just hold on through the easier moves to the top I'd have a successful on-sight of Enduro Man! 

Good lord, I thought. This would be big. I could retire from climbing and be happy. I could have a button printed up with the words "Ask me about Enduro Man!" printed on it, and I could sit in the Trapps parking lot telling everyone about it for the rest of my life.

But it was not to be. I couldn't find the easy moves. I'd gone too far to the right. I was burning out and I was lost. I searched for the path upwards but I couldn't locate it. I had a cam right in front of my face, so there was no safety issue. But as the seconds ticked away I knew I couldn't hold on any more. I had to take a hang. 

As soon as I gave up I saw where I was supposed to go. Doesn't it always work out that way?


(Photo: A party on Modern Times (5.8+), seen from the topout on Enduro Man (5.11c). Look closely (click to enlarge!)-- you can see both climbers.) 

In one sense, it was heartbreaking. I don't think I've ever come so close to an on-sight victory on something I wanted so badly, so close to my limit, only to come up short.

But I didn't feel sad. As I belayed Andy up, I was energized, even giddy. It was like the day on which I first did High E, or later when I did Bonnie's. This was what it was all about. It didn't matter that I hadn't gotten the send. What mattered was that I'd taken the leap. I'd tried really hard and left it all out there. And I'd done so responsibly. I'd placed good gear. The route had been totally safe. I'd proven to myself that I belonged up there. 

And that I could do it. 

Just not on this day. 

I have to go back and actually get it done cleanly, but I will. 

I know I will. 


(Photo: That's me standing at the top of Enduro Man (5.11c). The photo was taken by Bob, who is the leader in the photo of Modern Times that I posted above. You can also see a tiny piece of Andy coming up Enduro Man below me, as well as a person from another party on the ledge belaying a leader on High Exposure.)

Andy and I did some more climbing that day, some of it very good, but for me the rest of our time in the Gunks was mostly an opportunity to talk to other people who might understand what it meant that I'd just attempted Enduro Man. 

I wanted to discuss it with anyone and everyone. It was just like High E in 2008.

I found myself chatting up every climber we met-- why not?-- and asking them "so what have you been climbing today??"

They would tell me.

"Oh that sounds great," I would say. "I love the [whatever move] on [whatever climb]."

"And you?" they would politely reply.

"What did we climb? Us?" I would ask, as if I had to think back to remember. "I thought you'd never ask!"

The next time you see me in the parking lot, you should ask me. I won't be tired of talking about it, I promise.