Dawn Patrol: Pearl Edition

Me: Can we get Pusher on the way home?

Mom: We have Pusher at home.

The Pusher at home:

Dragging my feet, I still got to Sky Bridge Ridge by 8:30am on Saturday morning. I was warmer than I expected it to be. I changed into shorts when I got to the crag. Then I set up my pad (I have to tie it to a small tree to keep it from sliding down the slope). The warmup routine is set.

I wasn’t expecting much. My previous high point seemed like a wall I just couldn’t surmount. But without much ado, I cranked my left heel onto the rail, grabbed the starting holds, and fired all the way through to my highpoint. As I choked up to make the lunge for the gaston I popped off.

On my second attempt I managed to match and tag the gaston before coming off, but after watching the video of that attempt, I realized I’m coming off as I’m lunging for the hold. It’s not my success at landing the gaston that’s inhibiting progress—it’s the setup for the move that’s causing me to come off. I also realized after those first two attempts that I have gotten stronger since I started this process, and for each move leading up to my lunge from the match I am more solid and in control. That’s distinct progress.

As frustrating as it can be, I love the process of working out hard boulder problems. I gave The Pearl nine burns on Saturday. On four or five I was able to tag the gaston before coming off, but on all of those attempts I was sagging away as I slapped up with my right hand. My next goal is to make the move to the gaston in complete control. This will take some core strength and body tension control.

My progress is slow and incremental. I’m only getting out there once a week to try. That’s mainly because the days are too short this time of year. The other factor is that I’m committed to going to the gym (workout/climbing) on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and the other days I’m either resting or trying the problem or hiking or whatever. I’ve been ignoring my ongoing development of the new area. I’d intended to have at least a hundred new problems this year, but I’m holding at around fifty. I need to get back there and knock out a bunch of unclimbed lines. Of course, all this strengthening going on will make my efforts more successful when I do get back up there.  

I feel pretty good about sending this problem by the end of the year. I haven’t gotten on Dreams yet, but I will soon. I had a good session at the gym last week as well. I watched a tiny little girl working a V2-V4 graded problem (why such a range?) while being coached by my fitness guru. Once they moved on, I got on it and did much better than expected. I’m making it my goal for this week to send that one (assuming they don’t strip it and set something else in its place). I am a curmudgeon at the gym. I’m a curmudgeon at the crag.

After I finished working on The Pearl Saturday, I spent a little time cleaning up the No Inhibitions Boulder for future ascents. A couple of climbers hiked up to The Inhibitor. One of them looked over and asked what the problem I was cleaning went at. I looked it—a V0 problem called Gratuitous Crotch Grab—and replied: “It’s really easy.” The guy was like “oh, okay…” and then proceeded to walk down behind the Inhibitor (Pearl) Boulder and piss at the corner where the iconic problem starts. And he did it in full view of me on top of the other boulder.

I decided anytime I’m up there and need to piss I’m going to start going under The Inhibitor. Should I be so...pissy? I mean, Rennak said he had to clean up under the boulder before he could do the FA. But now there's chalk and it's obvious bouldering activity. Anyone with half a brain could see that. Anyone. 

Did I mention that I hate people? It’s leaf gawking season. It’s “prime climbing weather.” It’s all BS. I miss the old days when I mostly had the whole place to myself. I miss my dirtbag days. My goal in life is to figure out how to live that life again. Before I’m too old to enjoy it. 

Current high point

Third Pizza Party of the Apocalypse

 

Sometimes a shape inspires you. Sometimes a physical structure defines the shape of your soul. The 45° striated face of The Pearl does all that and more. It’s punk. It’s soul. It’s ethereal. Am I climbing out of a clamshell? Am I racing starlines through hyperspace? Are my tendons tearing away from my muscles and bones?  

What progress have I made on sending The Pearl? Zilch. In fact, I’ve lost a little ground, I can’t even get back to matching on the sloper/crimp hold before the gaston.

At the same time, I’m trying to send the classic V5 problem at Sky Bridge Ridge I am also beginning a new workout regime. It’s kicking my butt, too. And then my damned shoulder…the one I wrecked when I wrecked my bike on the Coors railroad spur leaving Golden, Colorado on my way home from work in the rain back in July of 2011…is still weak and painful. I deeply regret not doing the PT exercises they sent home with me that day.

Anyway, I went up there on Sunday to try the problem again, but due to some left index finger pain I opted not to push beyond two weak attempts. Then I set about cleaning up the Double Helix, Detox, and Fonz Boulders some more. I also tried the problem Detox for the first time in a couple decades. I remember it being hard back when I was strong and in shape, but it felt near impossible at my current levels. Then I tried a new problem I think may clock in at V1 and quickly lost interest when I struggled to get off the ground on that. It was demoralizing.

What I think happened Sunday is that I hadn’t rested and recovered enough after my two workout sessions last week. Recovery takes longer now. I’m trying to do too much too fast. I really need to focus on getting strong and in good condition before I start pushing limits, I think. Maybe I need to delay the Pearl quest until I make some distinct improvements. But my restless passions don’t allow me to consider that normally. I have negligible discipline. My bandwidth is narrow. The deluge of information is apocalyptic most days. I just can’t focus. I just can’t maintain a good sense of priority.

I know that the only things that will have a significant impact on my future self are drastic changes. I simply can’t keep moving forward on the same narrow path I’ve been trammeling my whole life. I have to step far outside my comfort zone.

I look at a recent photo of me attempting The Pearl. I’m heel hooking the sculptured rail, my right hand is on the starting rib, my left hand is crossed over and crimping hard on the small, but positive edge, and I’m eyeing the next right-hand sloper, ready to slap and choke up on it. To date, slapping that one and matching my left hand to the upper crimpy edge of it is as far as I’ve progressed.

The photo has a timeless feel to me. It could be twenty-something me working the problem years ago when I was so much stronger and closer to sending it. I gave up because my elbows were eaten up with tendinitis. Not only did I give up on The Pearl back then, but I gave up on bouldering altogether.

Today it’s not tendinitis; it’s a fourteen year old shoulder injury from a bicycle crash and late-presenting rotator cuff issues. It’s thirty pounds of stress-related weight gain. It’s decades of betrayal, failure, and disaster. Oh, and a heaping helping of self-doubt.

I’ve been on a self-guided healing journey for the past twenty months. Deep in the winter of 2024 I finally found the depths of what I will tolerate against myself. I was so overwhelmed with social anxiety and crushing depression that I burst up out of the shelf ice that had been holding me down, and I began warming the troposphere of my life with a slow burning ire.

It's been a complex quest hunting down the demons that have poisoned my mental, emotional, and physical wellbeing for as long as I can remember. There are still stragglers out there, but I know their faces; I will find them and eradicate them.

When I first threw out sending The Pearl by the end of the year as a goal, it seemed innocuous enough. After all, it was just another climbing tick on another list I’ve made. It’s arbitrary. It’s not important in the scheme of things. But then I remembered why I stopped working on the problem—the tendinitis. That abruptly ended my climbing career.

Back then, I didn’t have the resources to address the root causes and find the healing I needed. There were deficiencies and holes in my life. I never had a lot of money. I never had a lot of sound, reasonable support for my deepest needs from those close to me. Hardly anyone was giving me good advice on how to handle those kinds of issues. Or any kinds of issues. I went years ignoring the yammering devils that were chasing me as they wore me down, chewed up my mind and body, and delighted in my ruin. That’s all behind me.

Working The Pearl isn’t exactly picking up where I left off. It’s maybe more like going into a long disused room in my mind, turning on the light, sweeping up the dust of years, and starting to reorganize and mend things. The Pearl is finally making me focus on things I have avoided making eye contact with forever.

When I first decided on this as a goal, I was satisfied that it’s harder—even if only by one grade—than anything else I had ever climbed. I didn’t exactly understand at first, but now I do. By throwing down a challenge that is beyond anything else I had ever succeeded at I have forced myself to evaluate the entire system and plug the leaks. For whatever reason, the goal of summiting the Grand Teton has never struck such a deep chord in me.

It's possible I may never send The Pearl. I’m going to give it my best effort. I’m not going to give up until it’s obvious there is no path forward. I believe I can heal and strengthen my injuries and weaknesses. I’ve already made the first steps to do so.

In a related vein, I have also been cleaning up the other established problems at Sky Bridge Ridge. I’m rehabbing the whole area to be conducive to bouldering again. I’ve not stopped my development of Boulder City. That’s still ongoing with a brief pause while chiggers overrun the land. My hope is to throw down a few more new first ascents there before the end of the year. Maybe with this clarity of focus I can surprise myself with what’s possible there as well.

More to come…

Diving for Problems

They’re words on a screen. I make yearly goals, and I put them in a note on my phone. I used to write them in a notebook or in my journal. Some of those goals still exist in ink or graphite twenty years gone. Occasionally, I’ll go back through old lists and cross stuff off, or I’ll decide if they’re goals I still want to pursue. Sometimes I make new lists. Infrequently, I find my lists have worked themselves out.

At the beginning of 2025 I tried to make a list of attainable goals. Toward the end of summer, when I was in my pre-August panic—August being the normal annual low point in my cycle of moods—I realized I hadn’t reached any of my yearly goals. More than half the year had passed. What was wrong with me? These were all goals I could reach. This was a list that should have faded in its predicted due time.

I’m still chipping away. I will cross off fewer of those items during the 2025 calendar than I had intended. Two lines are troubling me at this point:

Resend Dreams, and

Send The Pearl

Dreams—as I’ve written about extensively elsewhere—was one of my proudest sends. It is the most well-known boulder problem I’ve developed. It’s a hard V3 at the end of a long walk. It takes some compression power and some mental conditioning for the top out. I know I can do it. I’ve just not tried it since I wrote it in my yearly tick list. That will change asap. I have less time to complete this item because the Forest Service will close the Indian Creek gates sometime within the next three months which will increase the approach significantly and prohibitively.

Standing under Dreams in 2022

The Pearl on the other hand…

I never sent that problem. It was a Scott Rennak discovery at Sky Bridge Ridge ages ago on the big boulder that had come out of the Inhibitor dihedral. It has good DNA. And it’s as iconic as Dreams. It has sort of an architectural elegance with its upward arcing offset on a smooth, clean face to a sloping, blank top out. It’s sculptural. Aesthetic.

So twentysomething years ago I worked it. I was able to do the initial moves after a couple sessions. Then I went back and worked the top out moves, because I couldn’t climb into them and sort them out. After another session I was able to do the top out. I just never followed through and pieced it all together. I was close. At V5, it wasn’t beyond my capabilities; though V5 was the hardest grade I ever sent.

Would I have dedicated more time and energy to these two goals if I hadn’t gotten caught up in developing Schoolhouse Rocks this year? Yeah, probably. So, what’s changed? Chiggers, I guess. The last two times I’ve gone up to Schoolhouse to clean and send more problems, I’ve ended up with more and more itchy bumps. It’s made me think of less buggy options. Dreams and The Pearl came to mind.

The Pearl a couple of years ago

Yesterday evening, I almost asked my girlfriend if she wanted to hike up and look at the Pearl. She doesn’t climb, so I felt like it would be a little bit of an imposition. That’s the conditioning that’s still held over from my manipulative relationships. She’s not like that. So why didn’t I ask?

I think I want a private moment to contemplate the problem. I’m sure the top out needs to be cleaned. I’m sure I’ll want to clean up some other problems in the area to have as warm-ups and as a potential circuit. Three years ago, I explored the crag a little more and found a little bonus potential that I want to develop. So, I can put some time into it for sure. It’s just been hard to tear myself away from the naked potential of Schoolhouse and the greater Boulder City development.

If I can do The Pearl…

Trip Report: Fifth Time is Apparently Not the Charm

“…you need to make peace with failure. It isn't enough merely to tolerate it; you need to appreciate failure and use of it.”

~ Dan Millman, Body Mind Master

I was not going to fail this time. 2025 was going to be the year I finally summited the Grand Teton, settling a nearly thirty year obsession with the Teton Range that morphed into an unhealthy summit fever. When I read that Dan Millman quote last winter I applied it to the 2023 attempt that got me above the fixed ropes at the Lower Saddle but no further. Fear and doubt were the anchors that held me back then. I would not let them stop me again. And they didn’t. Something else did. I didn’t expect to reevaluate my 2025 efforts through the lens of that quote.

All I can say is: there is no bitterness or regret in me. I am grateful for the chance to be in the mountains and experiencing life mostly on my own terms. I might have sacrificed a chance at my main bucket list item to give someone else an opportunity to share in that experience, but it resulted in another failed attempt. At some point I need to shove everything else aside and chase my own selfish summit. Otherwise I’m never going to get there.

For the most part I did things right. I swapped out my heavier gear for lighter. I eliminated much from my pack. We had a slightly better strategy than in ‘23. I wasn’t in the best shape, but I was in better shape than in the past. Despite doubts on summit eve, I woke up feeling sound of mind and heart. I went up determined to approach the summit with a pure heart.

Of course we deviated from the strategy just enough to derail the attempt. We woke at 4am instead of leaving camp at the Meadows at 4am. Knowing there were thunderstorms forecast for 3pm we still made an attempt that day instead of waiting til the next day despite building in the third day as a backup in case of inclement weather. Those two factors alone wouldn’t have totally thwarted us except this: two of our party were moving too slow to maximize our narrower weather window. The third was doing too much and being too antsy. And at least one of us was in way over their head and not really ready for such a big climb.

Despite all that we got to about 12,000’ at 9:00am. Reading back that last sentence…we might have made it anyway. Dylan was basing us being behind schedule on the guidebook stating the summit was six hours from the Lower Saddle via the Upper Exum. While we were going slow, we still might have made it once we got on the technical route. Oh well.

I had an epiphany at 12,000’: I didn’t fall in love with the Grand Teton; I fell in love with the Teton Range. The number-chasing, life-lister, peakbagger in me had let myself become obsessed with the highest point in the range to the exclusion of everything else. I’ve not summited a single lower peak in the Tetons, but I keep going back to “climb the Grand.” I’ve missed out on so many great experiences to bag a single peak. That’s misguided.

We didn’t summit. I finally made it high enough to see the upper mountain. It felt within reach. I could see the rest of the route above me piercing the sky. So close…

It was a great experience. I’m thankful to have gotten so far. I’m thankful to have felt so good. It’s definitely helped my confidence even more. Confidence is something I’ve lacked my whole life. So this process to climb the Grand Teton has mainly been a journey to overcome my impoverished sense of capability. 

It rained. There were thunderstorms that afternoon. It wasn’t the wrong decision to turn back. There were other decisions made which thwarted us. Those have been noted.

Bookending time in the Tetons we climbed at Vedauwoo and the Needles of Mount Rushmore. Both were enjoyable. I could definitely be an eastern Wyoming rock climber. Buffalo still looks like a good place to be.

I’m fifty-one. I’m not too old to climb mountains. I won’t be for a long time, evidenced by the seventy-eight year old we passed coming down from summiting the day before. But north of fifty there are considerations. I’m slower than I used to be. This is a hard truth. I was always the fastest hiker. No one out hiked me until recently. Overall stamina is much harder to build and maintain. Again, I used to have such a deeper well of energy than I do now. It’s humbling and tough to accept.

I am alive. I am relatively healthy. All of that seems less sure than it used to. I recently lost an old friend. A month before his sudden passing we ran into each other at random and reconnected. We exchanged numbers—we hadn’t really climbed together since before cellphones were so prevalent—and before we could really get together again he was gone.

At Rick’s visitation Dave and I looked at the framed photos of Rick climbing in the Gorge, visiting places like Mount Washington, New Hampshire and the summit of the Grand Teton.

When I stood up from our high point above the Lower Saddle, I thought of Rick. He had been in that exact place at some point. He’d shared the view I had in that moment. I was grateful to be in such a grand place. I felt a deep and abiding joy just being alive on that mountain. No matter what else, I have been high on the Grand Teton.

While still on the trip I decided instead of a second attempt in September I would do a big state highpoint trip out west. I have a plan that would take me to nine highpoints in eight days. If I could pull that off and sneak in a visit to Mount Washington I could claim ten more state highpoints in 2025 bringing my total to forty.

I’ll close this post with three quotes from The Alchemist by Paulo Coehlo:

• "the fear of suffering is worse than the suffering itself" 
• "I've discovered things along the way that I never would have seen had I not had the courage to try things that seemed impossible for a shepherd to achieve." 
• "...before a dream is realized, the Soul of the World tests everything that was learned along the way. It does this not because it is evil, but so that we can, in addition to realizing our dreams, master the lessons we've learned as we've moved toward that dream."

Won't Get Schooled Again

Some years ago, I discovered some boulders on the North Fork of the Red River. What’s significant about these specific boulders is that they were the last group of small stones I found before I took a long hiatus from bouldering due to chronic tendinitis and encroaching adulthood. In late 2002 I climbed three easy problems there and then promptly left the faith for other pursuits.

Nineteen years later I wandered up to the long bench below the big cliffline knowing full well there were boulders there both from memory and from notes I made on a map in my climbing journal as well as the entries for the three problems I did in 2002 in an area I called “Schoolhouse Rocks” for the cartoon shorts I watched frequently as a kid. While in the same watershed as Schoolhouse Branch of the North Fork of Red River, the area was not in Schoolhouse Branch.

In November of 2021 I more fully explored along the bench and was pleased to find a number of nice looking boulders. What I considered the main area of boulders was only the central portion of about 20-30 boulders. At the far eastern end, separated by the remainder by a steepness of the drainage is a cluster of twelve boulders I am retaining the name “Schoolhouse Rocks” for. The center sub-area I’m calling “Downtown” and the far western end I’m calling “City Hall” with the whole overall area called “Boulder City.”

I spent most of the winter of 2025 putting my energy into cleaning and climbing the boulders in the Schoolhouse Rocks sub-area. Of the twelve boulders I’ve fully or partially developed eight of them totaling 51 problems. I only stalled out when the rains of spring and the early onset humidity of this weird summer obliviated decent bouldering conditions. And maybe I tweaked a joint or two.

The most notable gems are Punk Rock and Schoolhouse Rock. Both have excellent problems. Punk Rock is one of my favorite discoveries in my entire bouldering career. There are still some steep, harder problems on it to be sent, and I hope to have beefed up and knuckled down enough to send them all by the end of the year. Schoolhouse Rock has a slew of good problems with a little less variety and loads of consistency.

One thing that’s aided my development efforts most was the purchase of a collapsible 12’ aluminum ladder. That’s been the most distinct improvement over the development of my younger years. With the area being mostly unknown and off the beaten path I’ve been able to leave the ladder stashed amongst the boulders while cleaning. Once I’ve cleaned up the remaining three big boulders I’ll move over to Downtown and focus my efforts there. The 12’ ladder may not be enough on some of the bigger stones in the central section of Boulder City.

The current classics of the area are:

• Tackleberry on the Police Academy Boulder—a crimpy V1 up the center of the main face.
• The Anarchist Cookbook—a V1 arete on the Anarchy Boulder.
• Conjunction Junction V2—a nice, thin pocket stabbing problem on Schoolhouse Rock, and
• Schoolhouse Rock!—the obvious V1 outing on the main arete of the namesake boulder.
• And two V1 slab problems on the north face of Punk Rock called Never Mind the Bollocks and Bitter Divisions respectively.

There are some remaining classics to be sent in this sub-area and definitely more to be had further to the west. Overall, I’m more stoked to keep developing this area than to put more energy into Muscle Beach or the Group W Boulders, both of which are great areas themselves. I spent a whole lot of time at Muscle Beach last fall until the Indian Creek gates were closed for the winter. I only hesitated to keep working on Group W because of the mandatory creek crossing during the winter months and that the Boulder City area was more south facing and ultimately accessible. The one boulder I am sort of chomping at the bit to get back to is the War Pigs Boulder in the Group W area and the “Hero” boulder nearby. I’ll hopefully have more on both of those projects early this coming fall.

In addition to my bouldering exploits, Tonya and I did a lot of hiking over the winter, mostly to arches and waterfalls. We went to quite a few places I’ve previously visited but she had not including Red Byrd Arch, Hopewell Arch and the Copperas Creek Arches #2, 3, and 4 as well as Snow Arch and Double Deer Arch. We also visited Noah’s Spout, Devil’s Market House, Room With a View, Flat Hollow Arch, Sky View Arch, Star Gap Arch, Sky Bridge, Ramp Arch, White’s Branch Arch, the Hoodoo, Turtleback Arch and Pachyderm Arch.

Our adventures have been run-of-the-mill, mundane, pedestrian, but satisfying and fortifying. I have an adventure partner who doesn’t shy from adversity. She will hike in the rain. She’ll wade creeks. She’ll meet me in the woods after work. There’s a lot more to tell about that aspect of my life, but I’ll save it for down the road.

Regarding my remaining goals for 2025—once I summit the Grand I have a few more things I want to try to tick off this year:

Summit Mount Washington, New Hampshire. I was thwarted on my New England high point trip last fall. I want to go back and do a full send, hiking up from the valley, and claim the final New England summit I need. I’m going to try to pull it off in four days later in the summer.

Four southern high points. I still need Brasstown Bald, Georgia, Driskill Mountain, Louisiana, Magazine Mountain, Arkansas, and Taum Sauk, Missouri in the south. These four represent a single trip entailing thirty-four hours of driving between them. We almost ran to Brasstown Bald this past weekend, but in the end it was a couple hours out of our way and would only save three hours on the greater southern blitz. I believe I can knock this trip out in a long weekend. Once I tag Mount Washington and these four the only high point east of the Rockies I’ll have left is Black Mesa, Oklahoma and I plan to visit it on a longer western high point trip either in the fall of 2025 or in 2026.

Thru-hike Pine Mountain Trail. I got a taste of it last summer. I haven’t returned other than to drive over at Jenkins last weekend, but I want to hike this amazing trail by the end of the year. Worst case I’ll shoot for Thanksgiving.

Local sends. There are a couple of older boulder problems I want to send/re-send. I’ve never climbed The Pearl, though I did work it a couple of times years ago. I want to resend Dreams. It’s still maybe my proudest first ascent and an iconic problem in the Red River Gorge. I also have an old aid line I want to reclean and try to free. It’s basically a 20’ shallow crack boulder problem to a 5.4 two pitch run to the top of the cliff. More on that to come…

In addition to all of that I want to keep developing new boulder areas and problems. That’s my real passion. Then I have my writing projects. I’m trying to reintroduce myself to mountain biking again. There’s a lot of ADHD detritus floating around that may surface as the months click on. But for now that’s the summation of how 2025 has gone so far and what I see for the remaining months of this year. Keep your eyes peeled for a trip report in the next few weeks from when I return from Wyoming. Flash or fail my next attempt on the Grand is bound to be noteworthy.

Mid-Year High Point Cleanse

We’re halfway through the year, and I have failed to write here regularly as I intended.  The last half of last year was an incredible time in my life; I did a major course correction, and it has paid off. I’m happier, I have less stress, and I am finally able to move forward on reaching the things I want to accomplish while I’m still able.

I’ve not ticked off any of my 2025 goals. Yet. I listed those in my journal but was hesitant to put them out in the universe prematurely. But I think it’s time to visit them and note any progress toward said goals.

Number one at the top of the list is: SUMMIT THE GRAND TETON. This has been a goal of mine since 1998 and before. While the journey orbiting around this dream is worthy of a book (in the works) I will say succinctly that I am closer than I’ve ever been to realizing this one. Last fall as I was plotting a new direction for myself and taking bold steps to being the person I had fantasized I would be at this point in my life I finally began to feel the confidence I needed. My Cloud Peak ascent was a major feather in that cap as was the last three days of my New England high point adventure when I summited Katadhin, Mount Mansfield, and Mount Marcy in three days’ time, clocking in 28+ miles of hiking and about 9,700’ of elevation gain.

See, the Grand Teton involves 14 miles round trip as best as I can tell and roughly (roughly) 7,000’ of gain. That ascent would be spread out over two days with an approach to camp at Garnet Meadows of close to 5 miles and 2,500’ of gain, leaving 2 or so more miles and 4,500’ of gain on summit day. Nothing I’ve done to date comes close to the steepness and difficulty of the Exum Ridge route on the Grand Teton, but no experience I’ve had in the recent past convinces me I won’t be able to summit. Ideally, I would have made an attempt after a brief rest back in the fall, but of course I was starting a new job and didn’t yet have the time off or cashflow to pull it off. Now I do.

I’m planning to head west in the near future. As always, I’m struggling with chronic pain, doubt, and fear. What I’ve never had before is the rooted confidence I feel now. Everything else is a veneer of neuroses that I intend to break through and obliterate.

This past weekend my girlfriend and I took a four-day weekend and toured the southeast. We started out in Virginia, revisiting (for me) Mount Rogers. Nearly twenty years ago I bagged my third state highpoint while leading a university outdoor rec group almost immediately after discovering I had lived with undiagnosed ADHD for 30+ years. I was surly and depressed and bagging that summit was bittersweet with all its baggage. When Tonya and I started out from Massie Gap this past Thursday I hoped for spiritual redemption. Through the wind and rain and uncertainty I created by being unprepared for a summer ascent of such a low peak we trudged and triumphed. Our descent was blessed with blue skies and sunshine. One memory mended.

Grayson Highlands, Virginia

Near the summit of Mount Rogers, Virginia

 The next day we did the Table Rock of Linville Gorge march from the winter gate up the steep paved road and then traversed around the East Face to the base of the North Ridge. I had hoped to do some climbing with my friend Tony on the trip, but he had to bail at the last minute leaving me with limited options. I hauled in my climbing gear with my rope solo kit, but once we reached the base of what I consider my all-time favorite climb the heat had sapped most of my ambition. The road being closed due to Helene damage meant there were no other viable climbing partner options. It was just us, a couple of hikers, and a young man guiding a client. I contented myself to calling the hike a scouting trip, with full intention of returning ASAP to climb at Linville again.

We left the Linville area and drove over to Bryson City on Saturday, eventually meeting up with Tony to paddle the Nantahala River. It’s been more like thirty years since I first and last paddled the Nantahala, back in my whitewater kayaking days. The NOC has grown. The area is less wild and much more commercialized than I remember it being. It’s also a bit disheartening knowing that my own beloved Red River Gorge is destined to similar commercial violations. All that aside, we had a great time running the river and finally (finally) running Nantahala Falls.

The tail-end of the trip was a side visit to Kuwohi on Sunday as we drove toward home. I visited Clingman’s Dome as a small child but have no recollection of it. I only know because there are family photos of the trip. In 2005 (or maybe 2006) I tried to climb the highest point in Tennessee from the valley but turned back within half a mile of the summit due to leg cramps. To date that’s still probably my best single day athletic feat. I hiked 28 miles in about 30 hours, and 21 of those miles about 12 hours gaining and losing 3,500’ through rain, snowy conditions, fog, and mostly alone. I finally have memories of the summit of my very first state high point. That’s another memory repaired.

When I go, there won't be an
announcement, but there will be signs

This Juneteenth trip wasn’t quite on the magnitude of my New England or Cloud Peak trips. It helped me refresh my confidence somewhat. While still a far cry from the mathematical effort needed to tick off my top bucket list item, it did show me that I’m not out of shape. Am I a little wrecked by the effort? Absolutely. A strange twinge of pain sprung up in my back on Monday. I’m nursing it this week, trying to rest as much as I can, and getting ready for my final conditioning push for the Tetons beginning toward the end of this week. I’ll be ready. I’ll summit this year.

To mitigate the failures of my last attempt I will be better prepared, have better beta, and reduce all barriers to success that I can between now and summit day. There are no reasons left for me not to summit the Grand Teton.

What about my other 2025 goals? In the short term, I’ll make a subsequent post or two revisiting backyard adventures this year and other things I hope to accomplish. Through the winter I put a lot of effort into new bouldering development near home. That and hiking with Tonya has been the focus of my outdoor attentions these past few months. I’ve not ticked any new peaks or high points since last fall, but I have some solid plans laid out to check off more and more. Stay tuned for more fun and games in the world of Ascentionist!

Twenty-Twenty-Four Recap

 2024 was a big year for me.  It started out full of stress and anxiety—maybe the worst I’ve experienced in my entire life—but it has ended on a much different note than it began.  While I don’t think anyone wants to read a detailed chronicle of my year long journey, I think it bears noting some milestones.

In desperation I forced a turning point.  In February, only a couple of weeks after I turned fifty, I realized I was in dire straits.  I found out I had low testosterone, I was at war at work, battling an endless cycle of manipulation and abuse, and I’d found out some startling family news.  I wrote in my journal: “I need to find a way to make peace with all this or it’s going to eat me up.”

The immediate answer was a hardcore regime of self-care.  I began alternating steam and cold baths.  I began a daily routine of reading first thing in the morning, focusing heavily on Taoist writings.  I started hiking more.  I started being intentional in my photography, even buying some black and white film to shoot in my old Pentax K-1000.  I hiked into the backcountry of the Red River Gorge to rediscover an old path to adventure (sadly that adventure is still unrealized, but soon!)  I started putting myself and my well-being first.

I began backpacking in earnest again, taking three good overnight trips.  It began with an out and back on Rough Trail in the Gorge, and then my first jaunt on the Pine Mountain Trail (more on that shortly), and finally an overnight trip in the Bighorn Mountains/Cloud Peak Wilderness in Wyoming.  I visited twenty-seven states total, and three new ones (I only have four left to visit).  I summited sixteen new state high points for a total of thirty.  I became comfortable scrambling old favorite rocks at home again.  I visited New York City at Christmas and saw my first Broadway show. 

I spent the last couple of months trying to develop/redevelop an old favorite bouldering area.  I added close to thirty new problems up to V2.  There are so many more to do yet.  I also spent a little time in the climbing gym in Lexington and have realized I’m not as out of shape as I thought.

The Pine Mountain Trail trip was a huge turning point.  I believe that was truly the fulcrum of the year.  After that trip I posted a selfie on Instagram with a long caption and said: “Despite feeling out of shape, stressed out, and overwhelmed by the oppressive heat I was unreasonably happy” and concluded by saying: “I pushed through a lot of inner turmoil and pushed past a lot of physical and mental obstacles to reach this spot.”  I kept pushing myself forward through fear and doubt through uncertain outcomes and ended up having a fantastic trip.  It inspired and informed the rest of my year.

Immediately after I got back from Pine Mountain I began planning a big peakbagging trip for September.  I changed my focus from the Grand Teton to Cloud Peak in Wyoming and tacked on six state highpoints for a 4,100 mile solo road trip over ten days.  I summitted Cloud Peak—a remote Thirteener I had dreamed about for well over twenty years.  I also visited a new state on that trip.  Just before I left, I had an interview for a big new job.  While I was on the trip, I got a call with a job offer.  And I accepted.

Taking the new job afforded me the opportunity of a second big road trip between the old job and the new job, so I quickly planned a New England trip to try to bag the seven remaining state high points I needed in the Northeast.  I reached six, with the road to Mount Washington, New Hampshire being closed due to inclement weather.  I drove just shy of 3,000 miles on that trip, visited two new states, ticked four state high points in a day, three big high points in three days and had the second trip of a lifetime in less than two months.

For Christmas, my daughter asked for me to take her to see Swept Away on Broadway.  I was reluctant at first, but once I was able to sit down and plan it out I realized with the new job I was more than able to afford the trip, and ended up taking both of my kids for a three day trip to New York City the weekend before Christmas.

Between those three trips and an earlier southern high point/beach trip in the summer I drove over 10,000 miles on road trips in 2024.  The majority of those miles I did solo.  All of those miles were amazing.  I had taken control of my life, started being responsible for myself, and I stepped onto a whole new path in life.

I began realizing some of the things I saw and read earlier in the year when I was trying to find a way out of the darkness and despair:

“…there’s a difference between knowing the path and walking the path.” ~ Morpheus, The Matrix

“The mystery of life is not a problem to be solved but a reality to be experienced.” ~ Dutch philosopher Aart van der Leeuw (and also quoted in Frank Herbert’s Dune)

“Decide what kind of life you really want…and then say no to everything that isn’t that.” ~ unknown

And finally:

“Don’t try to reclaim your youth and go back to what you were, try to fully be the person you fantasized you’d be now.” ~ again, unknown

The last quote is the one that had the biggest impact on me in 2024.  I had been distinctly guilty of trying to be the person I had been before I got married in 2000.  I felt like if I could recreate the conditions I’d experienced when I was last single then maybe I could pick up where I left off.  However, when I saw that quote on some random meme, I realized that was the better path.  When I was younger, I often did fantasize about who I would be when I was older.  The startling thing to me was that in many ways I was exactly that person.  Where I lacked connection to the person I dreamed I would someday be was in the fears and mental chains that had held me back.  And so, I made the attempt to cast all of that off, beginning on a hot, hot July day on Pine Mountain.  So much changed in my life for the better because I stepped through those barriers of fear and doubt.  

The actor John Barrymore said: “A man is not old until regrets take the place of dreams.”  My life had been full of regrets.  I had felt the weight of all my years.  And then I let go of the regrets and embraced new dreams.  And here I am.

Somehow my year of being 50 was the best year of my life.  And maybe the best is still to come.