While yesterday was the thirtieth anniversary of my starting
rock climbing, I simply didn’t want to climb.
It was a little cold. I couldn’t
wrangle up a partner to do anything roped.
The gravel roads in the National Forest are closed for the winter so I
couldn’t get to places like Haystack, Courthouse or anywhere on Indian Creek in
the time I had. If I had realized sooner,
I might have taken the whole day off. I
was going to just go home. But my heart
of hearts just couldn’t. I needed to
mark the day somehow. Thirty years is
nothing to sneeze at.
I opted to run up to Left Flank and hit the “Left Field”
bouldering area past To Defy the Laws of Tradition, or to give the V2
under Wild Yet Tasty a go. While
I have spent countless hours on the left end bouldering area, I had never
actually tried the legit boulder problem under the Table of Colors Wall. I ran home to change clothes and I opted for
the smaller crash pad. I left brushes
and developing kit all at home.
On the drive up I felt nauseous and like I wasn’t going to
be able to keep my “lunch” down. All I’d eaten were two brownies I made in a
batch from a box. I used olive oil
because I don’t keep other vegetable oil in the house, and they just didn’t
agree with me. I think it was the olive
oil.
Anyway, I also worried it was a symptom of impending heart
trauma as I am wont to do. I’m sick and
feel bad in that sense so seldom that when I do it always seems like something
fatal. I turned into it and throttled
up. I figured if I was going to die, might as well be in the woods with a crash
pad strapped to my back on the thirtieth anniversary of the day I started rock
climbing. Nineteen days before I turned
fifty.
Anywho, I trudged up the trail as fast as I dared with a bum
heart. I traversed the crag from left to
right, and as I approached the bend around to the Table of Colors area, I could
hear voices. Two guys were on Mercy,
the Huff, and their dog was tied up right on top of the
boulder problem. I played my part as the
introverted-Asperger’s-recluse-solo-boulderer, and with no more than a nod to
the climbers walked over and dropped my pad ten feet under the slavering maw of
a killer Pomeranian.
I was annoyed. It’s
a crag on public land. Why bring a yappy
dog? I get it on one hand--it’s a Thursday
in January. Who would even be
around? EXACTLY! Used to I had the whole Gorge to myself after
New Years until Spring Break or even a little later most years. Now, there’s always someone. Everywhere.
I decided I would work out the lower part of the problem and
just avoid topping out or getting close to the top-out. I didn’t have much daylight, and if I waited
until conditions improved my window would close.
The guys got down from cleaning and one came and quieted and
moved the dog. He was personable and
offered a spot. I warmed up to them a
little bit. I understood it was late in
the day and they probably hadn’t seen anyone else and why would it matter if
they leashed their dog on top of an obscure boulder problem at a sport
crag. I couldn’t be mad.
I gave the problem about three solid goes, making progress
on every attempt, and then I sat down to calm myself and get my thoughts and
emotions in check. I stretched a little
and tried to focus on my breathing.
I got back on and tried it from the undercling start, but
still botched the sequence to put me closer to the summit jug. I realized my mistake even as I jumped back
to the pad. On the last go I started
standing and reached up to the crux match from the ground and went from
there. I easily reached the top-out jug,
but it felt frighteningly hollow. After
my days or rock cutting and rock work at Muir, I have a new appreciation for
the relative strength of sandstone in the wild, so I was not confident in
yarding on the big, positive hold without looking at what I was grabbing.
One of the other climbers had run over to give me a spot and
was telling me I had it and to go for it, but I just didn’t feel good about it
with the hollow flagstone and one lonely pad on the ground. I lowered down as far as I could and dropped
onto the pad. It was a good effort, and
the problem is worthwhile, but until I could look at the top-out from above, I
wouldn’t be comfortable trying again. I
put on my approach shoes and scrambled up to look at it. If I’d scoped it out first, I think I’d have
gotten it that go easy. There’s plenty
of solid up there.
I opted not to get back on it yesterday, but that I’d go
back again as soon as I could with a couple of pads. I chatted with the two guys. I mentioned that it had been thirty years
since I started climbing. It was the
normal climber chatter really, but I’m glad I ran into them. As solitary as I am—and comfortable being so—I
know that I fare better when I behave in a positive social manner. It’s just not my default.
Zach, one of the other climbers (and Juan), mentioned bouldering
and we got to talking about it and I said something about the “warm up”
area left of To Defy. He
expressed an interest, so I told him a little about it. When I’d packed up and was heading out, he
asked if I was going over there. The sun
had dropped below the ridge over Military Wall, so I said probably not, but
then when I got to the top of the approach trail out I decided I had enough
time to run over there. I didn’t intend
to climb.
Years ago, I did spend a lot of time bouldering there and
getting stronger. I did a couple of fun
traverses and even a few straight up problems that topped out on ledges. Back then there was always chalk all over the
wall there. Last night there was no
chalk. That was a little
surprising. Though maybe it shouldn’t
have been.
I ran my hands along the wall and the holds there. One of my main climbing goals in the early
2000s was to complete a left to right traverse of that wall. It was possible. I was able to do every move. I could send it to the crux move* in the
middle including said move. I could begin
on the crux move and finish the traverse. I
think I was even able to climb to the crux, step off, and start again just
after it and do the entire traverse. I
just never developed the full measure of endurance needed to send it in one
go. Or at least I didn’t try it when I
had that fitness. I guessed back then it
might be V6. That was harder than
anything I believed I had been on.
These days I am aware I (unintentionally) sandbagged a lot
of bouldering grades. I was climbing
harder than I thought. Last night as I
put skin to stone on that traverse I wondered if it's not too late to finally
send that problem. To gain that fitness
back would mean I was a legit climber again, not faking my way up routes
through familiarity alone. I can be on
the rock in thirty minutes from work. If
I ran up there on decent evenings, I could get in a solid hour-long session and
be home by 6:00. With its nice, sandy
landing I don’t even need to take a crash pad—just shoes, chalk, and some small
brushes.
I felt like I was old and dying on the way in last night. I felt more like my old self on the way out.
*The crux move on that traverse as I had worked it out was a drop into a sloper match. Basically, from a halfway good hold you'd reach down to about waist level and pinch a sloper ledge. Then you'd have to let go and grab next to it and control the drop.
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