Skittles

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 I dragged Tony back to Emerald City.  There was a problem I'd FAed as a stolen line in the wee early days of my bouldering career.  Back then me and my younger cousin Dustin were running around wallering all over boulders because we were too chicken to lead routes.  Except we did highballs with no crashpads and were typically more casual observers of each other's risky efforts than spotters.  Eventually we learned how to keep ourselves from getting smooshed by gravity.

I think I'd FAed Skittles solo one day, or I just happened to get on it first and flashed it.  But while I was on the uphill side of the boulder, probably with Tony or some of our other climbing friends Dustin had wandered to the downhill side of the boulder and was making some noise.  He insisted I come down and see what he'd found, and he needed a spot.  I was underwhelmed.  But I still ended up sending the problem before he got it.  

I called it Gimme One Reason in honor of the Tracy Chapman song which I had on heavy rotation at the time.  In my journal I described it as having "toothy pockets" and a "jugs-o-moss top out."  I'm certain I did no more cleaning than Dustin already had.  I also gave it low marks for quality and called it V1 in my very limited V-scale grading experience.  

I called most things I had to try more than once V1 at the time.  Things I had to revisit I called V2.  Multiple sessions were V3.  That scheme seemed to track.  When I was finally able to repeat established problems in other places my grading scheme seemed spot on or even a little stout.  Of course, now the younger generation has origins in gym climbing, and my grades all seem to clock in stout. 

This past winter when I started trying to re-establish the bouldering circuit at Emerald City Reason wasn't high on my list of priorities. But eventually I wandered down the leaf filled gully, through the whippet saplings, and rediscovered this lost treasure.  I scrubbed what I could from the ground, marveling that the problem has a fairly decent natural landing.  I went so far as to put a rope on it and cleaned everything as well as I could.  No more jugs-o-moss top out.

Solo, with a single pad, I gave it a whirl.  I worked out the low crux move.  The pockets are all turned the wrong way.  Shallow.  "Toothy."  I usually get two or three good burns before the skin on my fingers is shredded.  This wouldn't be as big a problem if I was just stronger. 

I've given it three or four good sessions.  Still haven't gotten it clean.  The last two times I went I had spotters.  Both times I warmed up on Skittles first.  I went with Tony and got to my current highpoint: the deep, positive two finger pocket just below the top out.  But as I went to reset my feet and step up to grab the naked top out jugs the thumb catch underneath crumbled a little bit and I suddenly came to full awareness of how high I was floating above the earth.  Gravity took notice of me and reached out with her scaly, monstrous hands.  I downclimbed a move and dropped onto the pads.  Shaken, but not stirred, I retired for the day and nursed my raw tips, throbbing with adrenalin. 

A week or so later I texted Dylan and Christian and asked what they were doing.  'Hiking' they said.  I indicated I would be at Emerald City and gave general directions to where I'd be.  I had a date with a boulder problem.

As I said before, I warmed up on Skittles (the video above) and found the original beta.  I'd re-sent it on my previous trip with Tony after working it a couple sessions but wasn't happy with the starting position.  The original line started pretty far right on the arete and stayed on it to the apex and then actually descended the left arete instead of topping out.  I originally considered it a traverse, not a straight up problem.  

The guys showed up right after I had moved my kit to the lower side of the boulder and was going to give Reason a burn.  Being the pals they are they offered a spot.  So I piled the pads, chalked it, and clambered up.  One failed attempt turned into two.  But then on the third shot I gained the positive two finger pocket but with the wrong hand.  And I bumbled the feet.  Down I came.

At that point my tips were shredded again.  I'd need a few days to grow back enough skin to try it again.  I'm trying not to use athletic tape as a crutch like I did in my twenties.  Many of my early bouldering ascents were with aid. If I'd not learned how to effectively tape my fingertips (oh yes, it can be done!) I wouldn't have sent a fraction of the stuff I did.  Am I proud of that fact?  I climbed it all.  That's all that matters. Even with tape I had to bite down and bear through the pain a lot.  I can only remember one specific instance when the tape caught on a crystal, and I felt like that's the reason I pulled off the move.  Can't remember which problem that was.  Maybe Gimme One Reason.

I've not been back since that day.  That was right before Thanksgiving and I've been knocking around Group W, and I rediscovered another great boulder at Emerald I've put some time into.  The weather and daylight aren't cooperating as well as we creep into winter.  I feel like I'll send Reason next session. I'll be smart and won't warm up on Skittles.  Or at least won't expend as much energy warming up.  I'll take some friends for the spot.  It'll go.  I'm certain.

Attempting Gimme One Reason
in July of this year

Postscript:

After I initially drafted this piece, I returned to Emerald City and met Dylan there.  Whilst hiking in with pads I stopped to lop some branches out of the trail corridor to ease the passage of my larger Mad Rock pad. Something pricked my right ring finger.  At first, I thought I had snagged a fiberglass splinter from the handle of the ole loppers, but upon closer inspection I realized I had, in fact, cut myself pretty deeply on the mangled magnetic security strip on said handle.  It bled like a sonufagun and throbbed mightily.

I mostly forgot about it after Dylan showed, but my efforts at sending Gimme One Reason were fraught.  I didn't warm up on a different problem.  I stretched, had three pads and a spot, and still failed to send.  The crux move for me is up high, cranking (or holding) a thick knurled crimp with the right hand and reaching somewhere with the left.  I kept sketching trying to sort out that last move to the top edge. And I never felt solid on it.  It's high enough off the deck I just didn't want to risk the fall.

When I got back home and was able to look at the cut closer with my reading glasses on I discovered it was really deep, and I'd also cut my pinky finger.  No wonder I couldn't crank and feel solid on it.

It's no excuse, but I just didn't know I was cut so bad.  If I had, I would have taped the fingers and cranked on.  I swear I'll get it next time.

Dylan however, did send it.  What was surprising was he said it's at least V2+ and maybe V3.  I called it V1 way back in '98.  And have still been thinking it a V1 that I've just had to work.  In the earliest days I was casting wild guesses about grades. Before 2000 I had no outside experiences with bouldering grades.  It wasn't until late 1999 when I visited Hound Ears, Grandmother, and Blowing Rock in North Carolina that I began to have a better idea what grades to give FAs.  I still make wild guesses.  At this point I've just been out of the game so long my frames of reference are gone.  And apparently many of my "benchmark" problems may have not been accurately graded.

Dogfight

Another old video.  This problem is truly obscure.  I had to crawl across a fallen tree with my crash pad, bushwhack up a steep slope, and hike in a little ways before I found this and the nearby boulder with Pan-Galactic Gargle Blaster on it.

As I worked out the moves prior to the FA (the video was from a few years later) my two dogs ran around tussling with each other under the roof, on my pad, bumping me and scattering my gear everywhere.  They weren't trying to hurt each other, it was just typical brother dog behavior.

The moves on Dogfight (or Dogfighter as I sometimes think of it) were a lot of fun.  If this problem were in an established bouldering area or near some high traffic crag or nearer a road it would be a quick classic.  As it is, it will likely never see any traffic other than what I take to it.  When the Forest Service changed 9B it made the walk even longer.  

As obscure as this one is it lives fondly in my memories.  My dogs are long gone.  I miss them as well.  I don't have the heart to delve into those stories, but this boulder problem isn't a bad memorial to them.  They shared many good adventures exploring with me.  Maybe it's time to revisit it. 

Pocket Wocket

This is a traverse I found and worked when I was in my twenties and a gumby climber.  It took six sessions working it to be able to pull off the drop-in move.  The video was created nine years after the FA and seventeen years ago.  The original FA was in 1997.

I wouldn't have considered myself a boulderer at the time.  But I became obsessed with this elegantly simple line.  Traverse the bullethole pockets on a mostly blank face, slightly overhung with non-existent feet in an arching line to a big move down to a four finger pocket and then a nice jug rail.  I added an extension beyond the original problem which topped out in a nearby rockhouse later.

The movement feels pretty cool.  The setting is nice and quiet.  No one knows about this place.  Watching this old, poor quality video makes me want to slim down like a model and refilm myself climbing it now.

Since I did the FA (and even since I filmed this) the Forest Service has gated the road.  It used to be a really short walk.  It's not a long walk now, but the old gravel road has grown up with weeds and a summer jaunt may be a tick-filled affair and simply not worth it.

The area has a climbing history before my time.  Rumor has it Porter and pals used to go up there and shoot their guns.  As far as I know it's always been known as the Gun Crag.  There's a little bit of roped development there, including a 30 year old sport route that goes at 5.11 and seemed pretty fun as I remember it.  There are two stripped 5.10s Tony and I did.  We called them DayQuil and NyQuil because he was fighting some bug when he bolted them.  They were worthwhile outings.

This is also the location of Dario's first FA.  He may not remember it, but I bolted a pre-Muir Valley 25' route with four bolts and let him get the first lead of it. We called it Ventura Boulevard.  His sister Sarah was with us that day.  Dario was maybe twelve years old.  

Wocket in My Pocket is one of my favorite problems.  I'm certain it was my first V3-V4.  It was way harder than anything else I'd climbed when I sent it.  It has a sublime draw.  Since I came across this video on my computer a few days ago I've thought about it frequently.  Maybe it's time for another visit. 

Kaizen

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 “Continuously improve. Constantly strive to improve across all areas of your life. Small changes accumulate and make all the difference.”

I found Group W Boulders many years ago. I must not have seen the real gems at that time—War Pigs and the Wildflower Boulder—because it wasn’t until 2020 in the middle of the Covid pandemic that I returned. Why I chose this remote area when there weren’t that many people around…anyway, when I walked up on the War Pigs Boulder I knew I had to find it somewhere deep inside my flabby self to start climbing again. It’s one of the prettiest boulders I’ve ever found.

Sometime after this rediscovery I was flipping back through my climbing journal notebooks (which I transition from to a word doc in the early aughts) and saw a dot and a note in this area on a map I’d taped to the journal that simply said “Boulders”. I have no recollection of seeing boulders in that drainage, which is odd, though way back I obviously didn’t have a cell phone to take photos of.

The rediscovery happened right after Thanksgiving of 2020–three years and a few days ago as I write this—and I had recently watched Alice’s Restaurant. Hence the name…Group W Boulders. I decided each boulder should have a “w” name and originally was going to give every problem a “w” name but quickly realized that would not only be stifling to my creativity but also difficult.

The first two were Widowmaker (for a dead tree blocking a prime line) and War Pigs. Then I discovered an amazing boulder I’m calling Wildflowers but which currently has no established problems on it. It dominates the main cluster of boulders which include Wabi-Sabi, White Elephant and Willard Boulders. These all do have established problems. I believe the total for the whole area is fourteen with a lot of potential for more.

I may have passed on the area when I first saw it because back then I didn’t clean lines or boulders like I do now, and they may have just seemed too dirty or too much work to snip back the rhodo enough to lay down a crash pad. War Pigs was hidden when I re-found it, but I pushed into the rhodo and was ecstatic at what I’d found. Truth is…there may be some more gems in the thicket up the slope from War Pigs.

There are some problems on it I will get with work. I’ll have to get stronger. I’ll have to get back to a mental state of being able to push myself over a couple of pads. But my secret weapon these days? Top rope solo. I never worked boulder problems with a rope when I was younger. I definitely should have. And I knew how, and frequently did roped routes lead rope solo or top rope solo. I did that long before it was cool. I had an original Gri-gri I’d modified for that purpose. Then I bought a Silent Partner. It’s extra weight and bulk in my crashpads, but the peace of mind it offers is worth the extra leg workout and sore neck.

My progress is slow. In some ways it feels like not only have I experienced a setback in fitness and skill, but I went further down below the fitness and skill I started with as a beginner. It’s been much harder for me to reinject myself into climbing than it did to learn it to begin with. The only advantage I seem to have now is muscle memory. But weak and taut muscles have a hard time returning to younger shapes and configuration. I’m trying. Little by little I’m trying.

Oubaitori

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 “Never compare yourself. Everyone blossoms in their own time in different ways. Don't judge yourself by someone else's path.”

It’s hard to see others climbing hard or running long distances or cycling hard and feel like my best days are behind me. When did I lose it all? Or did I?

Am I too far removed from my past that I’ve forgotten who I am? I was the guy who would bushwhack with two crashpads in to some place I’d never been but suspected of having boulders, would find said boulders, clean them, climb every line I could in a day, and return and rinse and repeat.

I established a few hundred problems that way. When I was climbing my best I was putting up V2s and V3s regularly alone with no spotter. Just my two dogs. No cell phone. Hardly told anyone where I was going. I’d be lying if I said that didn’t strain my relationships.

The most shaken I’ve ever been while climbing was on the first ascent of a twenty foot highball that ended up with a V1 crux right at the end. I’d padded the problem all wrong and ended up cruxing high over naked earth. Well, and two loyal but irrevocably stupid dogs. Not only would falling in that obscure location result in my utter destruction, but I’d probably kill one or both of my canine companions as well. Pumped silly from the combination of a low crux and onsighting licheny rock I somehow held it together and ended up sitting on top of the boulder gasping for air, shaking like a leaf, and swearing off anything more adventurous than getting in the shower before checking to see if there’s towel on the peg.

Obviously I eventually settled down and decided not to retire from the outdoor life. I called that one “Pan-Galactic Gargle Blaster.” If you know you know. Maybe some day I’ll go back with a posse. Or not. The fallen tree I used to cross the creek is probably gone.

Even if I’m past my prime, my prime was pretty good. Oh, I never climbed harder than V4-V5. But I climbed a lot. So much I wrecked my tendons. I have a lot of good stories. Memories that will be entangled with my quantums for as long as I can hold on to them.

I mourn the part of my life I was not on the path I wanted to be. It was a long, long time. Long enough it feels like I lost a lifetime. But even the time I felt I was astray I had great experiences and lived a good life. It’s just not the route I set out to travel. And I missed out on experiences I definitely wanted to have. Many of those I simply will not have time to find now. And many have passed and can’t be found again.

Looking ahead I know I can stay true to my path. And it will be one worthy of my intention. I’m just struggling with so much baggage. It’s so heavy now. And I’m not as young and resilient as I once was. That doesn’t mean I’m not valuable. To myself or others. There’s something beautiful about the struggle.

Ikigai

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“Know your reason for being. Define the reason you get up in the morning. Make it something you are good at, passionate about, and that the world needs. THIS is meaning.”

What am I good at? Not climbing. Especially now as I am on the cusp of being fifty years old. My genius is in spatial interpretation and awareness. That’s never made me rich and likely never will. But in exploring the landscape I was born into I have been able to satisfy the cravings of my heart and mind.

I can find the lines. And it’s no bother to me to hike around with a crashpad stuffed with brushes and a saw and loppers. I have passion enough return again and again. Quick after work sessions. Winter weekend outings. I believe eventually I’ll send all of my projects. Maybe naively.

Is this my purpose? Is this something worthwhile in the grand scheme? Am I inscribing into the stone of the universe the petroglyphs of my legacy?

I’m not good at waiting patiently. I end up feeding the urges in my mind with handfuls of exploration. Those urges are hard to satisfy.

I explore in my dreams. I wake up wanting to see something new every day. I make lists. I keep a tally of unsent projects in the back of my mind. Sometimes I can’t stop thinking about them and have to stop whatever I’m doing to chase some new climb. Or find a new arch. Or visit a new overlook. Or holler. Or trail. Or stream.

(Originally posted 12/10/23)

Wabi-Sabi

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“Embrace imperfection. Nothing lasts, nothing is complete. Accept your own flaws and those of others. Find beauty in imperfection.”

Getting older has a way of granting you perspective you couldn't get otherwise. You begin to see that change is the only constant in the universe. Things that seem like they will never change always do.

It also becomes painfully clear that you will never actually cross the finish line and be able to just enjoy some post-effort state. You never get a day off from life until it's over.

The quality of our experiences are based in our attitudes. Being able to accept something less than perfect... less than ideal...is a sublime joy. It's hard when other people cannot. It's even more difficult when they hold you responsible for their inability to enjoy life in its raw form.

Lately I've been going out and climbing whatever boulder problems I can. I'm not at the level of strength I would like to be, but I am still in the game.

Proprioceptive memories are an incredible experience. Wabi-Sabi is a recent problem I found and climbed, but sometimes, twenty years later now, I discover that my body remembers movements and the texture and shape of the rock that I haven't touch or made in two decades. And sometimes on problems and climbs I may have only done once. When I stretch for a hold and the split second before I fully grasp it I can remember EXACTLY how it's going to feel. That moment of "oh, there you are". When I turn into a back step, or find the right foot and my body finds the echo of movement from another lifetime...it's hard to truly describe. And I wish I had known all those years ago this was going to happen, but I'm happy to have these strange experiences now.

(originally posted on 12/9/23)

Fairies Wear Boots

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I post these (videos to Instagram) for myself. I'm not trying to impress anyone. I'm not happy with the way I look and feel these days. I'm hoping by videoing myself doing this thing I love it will motivate me to get in better shape so I can enjoy life more.

I'm tired of not being able to do the things I want to do. I'm tired of hurting and aching after trivial activities. I'm tired of knowing I'm strong but carrying too much mental and physical baggage.

When I was younger I did some incredible things. And mostly solo. Giving in to the internal and external pressure to be “successful". I took the wrong path. I knew better. But I equated maturity with conformity.
I was wrong.

Fifteen years of career hell and most of those sitting at a desk and making long car commutes has weakened the core of me.

I'm not done yet. I can claim the later years of my life and make them my best.

(originally posted a couple weeks ago)