We wander away from the Seasons to check out a 5.11G that Todd has imagined is down there somewhere and run into a fascinating looking short corner/crack capped by a small roof crowned by a long, steep vertical crack. What’s this?

Todd checks the book. This is Blistered Toe (5.8G) and I’m standing under the direct start, rated 5.9+. I think it’s swell-looking.

“Do you want to do it?” Todd asks me.

“You mean me lead it?” I ask nervously.

“No.”

But I do want to lead it. I know that 5.9+ is a little stiff for me but all the difficulties are obvious from the ground and well-protected. Then the higher stuff will only be 5.8 and not that 5.8-ish crap that people who can lead 5.10 assign to anything that’s not the crux but honest-to-goodness, says-it-right-there-in-the-guidebook 5.8.

“I can lead this,” I say. We rack up.

A couple appears from around the corner. “Up or down?” the guy asks us. “Up,” we tell him. “Too bad,” he tells the woman he’s with. “You’d like this route. It’s a lot nicer than it looks.”

Nicer than it looks! How could that be?

I step up to the start. Hmmmm. How exactly does one leave the ground on this route?

Another pair appears from the other direction. “What’s this?” they ask. They stay to watch. This is getting frustrating. Somehow, because I’ve never climbed in this section of the Gunks before, I had this little idea that I’d discovered this stunning line. Now I’ve got four people watching me and I’ve just realized that I can’t even make the first move.

“Do you want to put a piece in from the ground?” Todd asks me.

Why, yes. Yes, I do. Standing on my tippy-toes I manage to fiddle in a nut, not easily since it’s at the very end of my reach. Todd offers to do it for me, but no, that would be cheating. I place the nut myself, not wholly satisfied with it but aware that I’ll only need to make a move or two before I can get another piece in.

I take a deep breath, try to block the crowd of spectators out of my mind, and step up off the ground. This is brutal. I get my fingers in next to the nut and make two powerful moves to get my hands on top of a horizontal. Gear. Shit. There are no feet under me. How am I supposed to put gear in here?

I try to wedge a hip into the corner under the roof and get just enough relief from it to fiddle a cam into the pocket that’s so obvious from the ground. It’s a really round pocket and I’m not happy with the way some of the cams tip out. I reverse the cam and am no happier. I’m hanging on here forever.

Suddenly I hear a voice below me. “I’ve got you spotted. Don’t worry. We’ve got you.” Now I’m glad I have an audience. I relax a little and clip the cam, still not totally satisfied but convinced that I can’t get a better placement there. A cheer goes up. I get one foot level with the roof and start to move up. One or two more moves and I’ll be done. The crowd exhorts me on.

I can’t do this.

I’m at the spot where I thought I’d be done but I’ve run out of holds. I downclimb back to my last piece and hang on it, carefully. The helpful guy tells me where I can get another piece in and I pump myself out doing it, then place a third while I’m hanging.

I now believe that I probably have good enough gear to fall on. Probably. That’s the rub. Each time as I pull myself back up to my high point I can feel the moment when Todd lets slack out for my next move up and I panic. I need to let go with my right hand and I can’t. I try every which way. The rock below the roof is some of the smoothest I’ve ever slid off. My feet paddle against it like I’m wearing bunny slippers instead of sticky rubber.

Finally I admit that I can’t do it and lower off. So why am I going back up? I don’t know. I’m just that stubborn. I should be able to lead this route. I can climb 5.10 and the gear is right there. Only I can’t even get back up there. The first move off the ground stumps me. The next few moves are too hard and I hang after each one. By the time I’m finally at the level of my top piece again I understand, for real this time, that I can’t do it and lower off again.

Todd takes over. He moves quickly to my top pieces, gives them the once over, and then goes left! Left!? What the hell is that?

When it’s my turn to follow, I go left too. I pull over the roof and stop. “That’s just so wrong,” I say. He lowers me back down and I try again to pull straight over the roof. Eventually I get it, but not without a lot of falling. OK, so I couldn’t lead this route.

The top of the route is nice. This, I could have led.