It was a nice day but the rock was still wet so we started with Alphonse. I’d previously led the first pitch and followed the second so we did it backwards this time. It was one of those days when my stomach hurts with an ominous sense of foreboding. I made Steven put in extra gear. I don’t find the first pitch of Alphonse all that 5.6-easy and it was soaked. By contrast, I remembered the supposed crux pitch as being pretty cakey and it was, even on lead, and dry besides.

We were in the nears largely because I wanted to lead Roseland as my token 5.9 for the day but Roseland was still dripping. Birdland promised to be dry, being all facey and sun exposed, and it was. Birdland was also on my to-do list because I’d had some setbacks on it after my initial sucessful lead. Steven promised me I’d be OK with the gear and I put no fewer than three pieces in to be sure. Then I groped around at the holds and the move, hating life and wishing there wasn’t quite so much of a circus going on in the Nears that morning before I found the key hold I always seem to forget. Then it was easy.

Steven said he had no need to lead the second pitch, having led it before. I was thinking that I didn’t have any need to lead it either but we were up there and it’s a nice pitch so I did it. It’s pumpier and more sustained than the first and I don’t know why no one ever seems to do it. I also don’t know why it’s rated easier. They’re pretty similar in maximum difficulty.

By now Roseland looked mostly dry but the circus, rather than moving on, had expanded. I was hesitant to start up a hard lead with so much commotion (and so many dogs although it wasn’t until later in the day that one tried to kill me) but I needed to get my 5.9 in for the weekend. It’s sort of my goal to lead 5.9 on 9 weekends in a row. Then the 10.

Steven said that if it didn’t feel right I could always come down and he’d finish it. When he said it my feet were about 3 feet off the ground on a ledge and I asked if I could come down right now. That foreboding feeling was back. In fact, it had probably been tied to the thought of leading Roseland all along. But I forged up and on and did OK through the roof and the corner to the top of the corner where it was wetter than it had looked.

I put in two good pieces and told Steven the gear was good and tried to get myself over to the starting holds on the traverse so I could clip that pin which was tantalizingly out of reach. I felt that if I clipped the pin all would be well and I’d never ask for anything again. I finally got one hand near the pin and reached out as far as I could go and got the draw hung but there was no way to clip it. I tried again and got a little further out and found myself pretty committed. I still couldn’t clip it (couldn’t let go with one hand) and now I couldn’t get back into the corner either.

So I said, out loud, that I couldn’t do it and then asked what I should do and then answered my own question, still out loud. You should fix your foot, I told myself. My leg wasn’t technically behind the rope but one foot was still stemmed way out back into the corner and there were a lot of slings and ropes between me and it. I was resigned to the fall and preparing for it, trying to plan how to make it gentle and harmless. So I fixed my foot and then I was hanging directly from the holds instead of twisting myself into them and it was a lot more comfortable so I was able to clip after all.

Then I said take. To hell with all that drama. Eventually I de-pumped and led the rest of the route and came down annoyed that now I have to try to lead Roseland again but not scared of it anymore. Now I know the trick. Clip the pin from directly beneath the pin. Don’t waste energy trying to do it from the corner. Also, I’m proud of myself for thinking clearly in the face of a fall. I don’t think I’ve ever rationally considered how to improve a fall before.

I jumped once, above a bolt on a vastly overhanging route at the Red. I was all the way at the next bolt but couldn’t clip it, not even using the draw as a hold. At the Red, draws aren’t good enough to be holds. That was scary but safe and I fought it as long as I could. This was different and better.

Then we TR’d Shitface and the circus was surrounding us still and growing ever louder. It was a really empty day at the Gunks because of an iffy forecast but for some reason everyone with a kid or a dog or a monumental ego was climbing somewhere near us. So we walked back to the Trapps and Steven led Ken’s Crack in his approach shoes and I even followed in mine. Let it be known that Ken’s Crack is not easier in your approach shoes (unlike most every other route at the Gunks if you believe Steven) but my new shoes do actually climb pretty well.

I wanted to do something long and easy and not stressful, being pumped from Shitface which I might have gotten clean if I hadn’t been pumped from Roseland. I led Belly Roll in one long pitch to the top (this is where the dog tried to kill me by tangling himself in our lead line). I had the straightest line that 150 feet of 5.4 has ever seen. You know, that’s what you climb for is 150 feet of moving smoothly and fearlessly like that. Pop in a little gear, eschew the pins because they’re outside of your perfectly straight line, climb a little higher before placing something cause it’s all good. All good.

Alphonse (P1: Steven, P2: Dawn)
Birdland (P1 & 2: Dawn)
Roseland (Dawn)
Shitface (TR)
Ken’s Crack (Steven)
Belly Roll (P1 & 2: Dawn)