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Showing posts with label Emerald City. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Emerald City. Show all posts

Friday, April 24, 2026

Time Is Just Weakness Lingering In Your Body

 Wolverine…

…Not the character played by Hugh Jackman. It’s a line. On a boulder. Not my line. I did not do the first ascent. I’m pretty sure I did the second ascent right after the first. Or soon after. 

This is how I think it went—I’m reconstructing some memories of this event—but the important bits are sourced directly from memory.

My younger cousin—Dustin—and I had started intentionally bouldering during the last half of 1998. We’d climbed a few things at Emerald City with no crash pad. I’m sure we didn’t clean or only minimally cleaned anything. 

I’d been telling my new climbing friend Tony about Emerald City as well as our other bouldering exploits at Torrent Falls, Tower Rock, and The Heights. I was particularly proud of The Heights. There’s a five start V2 roof problem I called Sugar High there. 

Tony was finally in town with his crash pads (I believe he had already loaned me a pad we’d been using but had not used when we did the first stuff at Emerald), and he was willing to let us show him what we’d found and climbed. I was giddy to have gotten him to go with us to Emerald just to boulder. 

We started out near Yellow Brick Road. We’d already put up problems on the Black Magic Boulder, Solitaire, Skittles, and the Yellow Brick Toad. While I was showing them to Tony, Dustin wandered over the hill into the rhododendron and disappeared. 

The rest of us kept climbing near the cliff, but eventually Dustin came slogging back up the hill excited and demanded we come see what he’d found. 

Dustin was a mute. I mean, he could talk; he just chose not to most of the time. And he always had a deep voice, even when you weren’t sure where he could have kept such thick vocal cords in such a scrawny frame. So when he did talk it was hard to ignore. Somehow we did.

I can’t remember for sure, but he may have absconded with a crash pad, and when we started looking for it realized it was down in the rhododendron thicket with Dustin. So we went to investigate. 

He’d found a king line. Everyone agreed, even Tony. The downhill side of the boulder overhung a nice long bench which would yield even more nice boulders after we explored around. But that day we dropped everything under that prow and gawked. 

As soon as the rest of us arrived, Dustin jumped on the rock and showed us the moves he’d figured out. We started chucking shoes around like Mr. Rogers and took turns trying it all-the-while Dustin kept reminding us he’d found it, and it was his line. I believe the exact phrase he used was “Get off, you homo, it’s mine!” 

Everyone respected his find and he sent it. That day or the next session I can’t remember, but he got after that thing with a vengeance. For someone whose spirit animal is probably a sloth, that was a big deal. 

As being relatively new to formal bouldering, we cajoled Tony to give the problem a grade. It felt hard. We wanted to know how hard we’d just bouldered. I mean, that thing has some moves on it would blow your mind seventy feet up and a body length out from your last bolt. 

You step up onto the slab with two small, but good holds—left on the bottom of the prow and right on a good vertical incut—with decent feet.  Then you reach across with your right hand and palm the underside of the offset prow and rock into that to lock yourself into the space. Then it’s a high reach up to a severely small crimp with a thumb catch, bump feet, and grab a small but positive hold higher up on the prow with your right. Then it’s move feet again, another reach up to a nice handlebar with a positive lip for the left hand, and then move feet again and get a nice hold for the right and top out. 

When pinned down (I had two inches and thirty pounds on him) Tony said it was V1. 

Dustin and I hadn’t bouldered anywhere else beside the Gorge. We didn’t know what bouldering grades meant. And in fact, we had only been climbing a couple years when we shifted to a bouldering focus (much to the chagrin of every other climber in the Red in the Nineties) so we couldn’t even really make educated guesses about grades. Tony set the bar for us. After Wolverine we at least had a reference for V1. That influenced every line we put up over the next three years. 

Why Wolverine? I can’t remember now. I wasn’t an X-Men fan back then. Dustin named it—as was his right—and I’m sure it was either commonly understood or maybe he explicitly stated it was named after the X-Man. But after twenty seven years I’m not even sure of that anymore. The name is distinctly singular, not plural, therefore I’m certain it wasn’t a Red Dawn reference. 

I missed the twenty seventh anniversary of the first ascent by two days. Tonya (not Tony) and I went up last night. I wanted to get in a few problems, but most stuff needs some cleaning. And I need some conditioning. But I ended up standing at the base of it, chalking my hands, and putting sticky rubber to sandstone. After one false start, muscle memory kicked in. This one makes a little more sense…I have climbed Wolverine a lot in my lifetime. It’s an old standard for sure. I didn’t send, but I would have if I hadn’t been moaning like an old man. Like the old man that I am.

I haven’t talked to Dustin in years despite his mom and my dad being siblings. There’s no animosity. We drifted apart after he graduated high school, and I got married. 

He was seventeen when he found and climbed that line. Sure, it’s a lowly V1. But Dustin’s discovery of what would become this iconic line, and his insistence that I come and check it out, led to the further exploration of the rhodo-covered bench which inspired the ensuing intensive development of Emerald City that occurred and is still ongoing. Last night I spied another couple of unclimbed lines I want to get on. And I still think there’s a variation of Wolverine that could be significantly harder. From the severe crimp, just imagine going left and up onto the blank headwall. I’ve always thought a strong enough climber could do it. I have yet to be that climber.

Reaching for the severe, small crimp



Pulling up on the small, but positive
hold on the prow before the handlebar.


Thursday, December 21, 2023

Skittles

 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.