Dawn's Climbing Blog

One thing Buddhism has taught me is that I can turn a minor issue into a major one simply by dwelling on it long enough. Going over and over the same ground in my mind prolongs the hurt, whereas releasing it–clearing my mind–brings peace. It’s not always easy to clear my mind. The ego loves to rehearse its grievances, to air its woes. The ego says, “Of course you should be upset about this.” The clear mind answers “Who’s upset?” Sometimes the only way to clear my mind is to repeat “My mind is clear” until it’s true. Sometimes I get in a lot of reps.

The Rock Warrior’s Way–which has much in common with Buddhism–advocates this clear mind while climbing. Make your decision based on available data and then act. Don’t keep revisiting that decision. Don’t doubt. Allow new data to flow in but don’t circle back to questions that have been resolved.

These are two sides of the same coin. If I clear my mind of doubts without analysing the available data, I’m putting myself at risk. “What, me worry?” will get you killed. But if the risk (or the grievance) isn’t real, then dwelling on it only causes and prolongs the very feeling I’m trying to avoid–that scared, hurt, hopeless feeling.

My climbing so far this season has been scattered and uneven. I’m not sure what I’m capable of. Some hard things feel easy and some easy things feel hard. Sunday we were racing the weather and when my turn came to lead I picked Pink Laurel with a clear mind. I knew it was safe and I shut off all other talk. There was no internal dialogue as I waited my turn, racked up, started the climb. Partway above the roof where it gets hardest, I had the thought that I could hang if I wanted to, but it was immediately met by the thought that there was no need to do so. The route felt off-kilter and unfamiliar but not hard or scary. My mind was clear. The body followed.

Eyesore, 5.6 (Steven)
Ape Call, 5.8 (Todd)
Pink Laurel, 5.9 (Dawn)

“You can’t like that move,” I told Mike as I floated gently past the City Lights crux, “but you get so you can do it.” Smear right foot on polished white slab, throw left foot up to ear in pod, rock over. I used to call it improbable but now I’d call it familiar.

On the one hand, you get a route wired and you can cruise it even on days you’re not up to that level. That’s the way I felt on Modern Times. I knew it ought to be hard or scary or committing and that doing it at the end of the day on my second day out with a veritable stranger for a partner was insane, but it only felt normal and fun, like watching a favorite movie with a new friend.

On the other hand, you think you should be fine so when you’re not, you’re rattled. You think you know everything so when it’s unexpected, it’s horrible. That’s how I felt on Maria Direct. Sure, Maria Direct is hard and scary and committing but shouldn’t it have felt like Modern Times did the afternoon before? Why did my right hand insist on moving when my left hand knew it had a job to do? But the right hand way turned out to be so much better. Who changed: the route or me? And when did Maria Direct grow a jug to replace the horrible slopey mantle move? (Thank God it did or I was going to die there Friday.) Have I been sucker-punched by my own memory?

There were pieces of Jean I knew so well I could have downclimbed them, and there were pieces that seemed to have been borrowed from some other climb I haven’t done yet. I got my hands crossed at the crux and I used the anchor gear below the anchor. Where does that come from? Why am I touching the sucker hold on Something Interesting? I really, really wanted to use that sucker hold. What if the sucker hold leads to the One True Way and I’ve been blinded by routine? I may never know.

Maybe it’s time for some new routes.

Thursday with Mike:
City Lights, 5.7 (P1 & 2: Dawn)
Son of Easy O, 5.8 (P1: Dawn, P2: Mike)
Jean, 5.9 (Dawn)
Modern Times, 5.8 (P1: Mike, P2: Dawn)

Friday with Todd:
Apoplexy, 5.9 (Todd)
Maria Direct, 5.9 (Dawn)
Maria P2, 5.4 (Dawn)
Ape Call, 5.8 (P1 & 2: Todd)
MF, 5.9 (P1: Dawn)
Still Crazy After All These Years, 5.10 (Todd)
Something Interesting, 5.7 (Dawn)

Saturday with Steven and Miriam:
Maria, 5.6 (P1: Steven, P2: Miriam, P3:Dawn)
Groovy, 5.8 (Steven)
Bonnie’s Roof, 5.8 (P1: Dawn, P2: Steven)
Strictly from Nowhere, 5.7 (P1: Dawn)

I haven’t gone this long without touching real rock in the nearly nine years I’ve been climbing. After four straight weekends of personal and work obligations monopolizing the springtime weather I was bouncing off the walls in full withdrawal. “I need to get out!!!”

So I didn’t care about the 30% chance of rain. A 30% chance of rain is a 70% chance of not-rain, a statistic it would seem most people don’t bother to calculate as it’s almost a 100% chance of nobody being there. I found a willing accolyte and set the date and by damn if it wasn’t sweet and sunny when we set out. Unfortunately it was raining at the Gunks, but only lightly and only, according to my partner’s Blackberry, briefly.

I was climbing. I didn’t care what and I didn’t care how. I wasn’t going away without climbing something. Horseman was free (hell, it was all free). I made the insanely stupid decision to start the route in my approach shoes to keep my rock shoes dry until I got under the first overhang. If there’s anything sketchier than starting your first route of the season on wet rock in approach shoes, I don’t care to participate in it.

Much dithering and whimpering later I arrived at the ledge, changed into rock shoes, and charged up the blissfully dry and marvelously sticky corner. It was wet again after the crux traverse but wearing rock shoes and having 40 feet of climbing under my belt made the difference. I did drop a locking biner (“I was expecting a rock,” a young man apparently unacquainted with the true meaning of the word “rock!” told me) and tangle the rope so badly I had to get my second to unweight it while I was lowering her to fix it, but overall I felt pretty good, my line was brilliant, and by the time we got down it had stopped raining.

We did a few more routes and it kept getting drier and drier and eventually it was time to face facts: Trapped Like a Rat was waiting for me. It’s been a while since I looked that bad grovelling up the start, but once past the first crux I cruised it. Miriam looked good on it too, despite her insistence that she wouldn’t. We finished the day on Eyesore where the death block seemed much better cemented this year than last.

This morning I pulled stockings on over skinned knees, felt the burn deep in the muscles of my upper arms while doing my hair, and smiled.

with Miriam, all led by me
Horseman, 5.5
Bunny Direct, 5.6
Double Chin
Ken’s Crack, 5.7
Trapped Like a Rat, 5.7
Eyesore, 5.6

Saturday was way cold. Way colder than it was supposed to be and way colder than I was prepared to handle. I didn’t have belay gloves, long underwear, or hand-warmers. And I didn’t have my suffering mentality on straight. I guess I didn’t believe the nice weather would ever end this year.

So we did one three pitch route–Tequila Mockingbird–and called it a day. I said it was the end of the season and rode off into the sunset. Then Sunday it was beautiful. Monday it was beautiful. Maybe I can eke out one more weekend?

Tequila Mockingbird, 7+ (P1 & 3: Scott; P2: Dawn)

OK, not really. He said that’s what I’d write because in the first few pitches we climbed Sunday I humped a whole forest full of trees. What stands out most though is that I climbed five pitches I’d never climbed before and led a pitch of 5.10 clean. Any day I lead 5.10 is a good day–I didn’t know I was feeling that good–and it was fun to see what Steve considers fun. I think he has a lot more tolerence for runouts than I do. The last pitch of Morning After is “interesting.”

Gorilla My Dreams, 5.7 (P1 & 3: Dawn, P2: Steve)
Size Matters, 10c (Dawn)
Morning After, 8- (P2: Steve, P3: Dawn)

Steven is one of my oldest climbing partners and first mentors, so he’s taught me a lot. One of the most important things I ever learned from him is “Good things happen to those who at least try to get out.” That’s why when I emailed him on Friday I anticipated that, forecast for showers notwithstanding, we’d be meeting Saturday morning as planned. He didn’t let me down.

We met in a fine drizzle at the Bakery at 8:30. It was going to be one of those days. The sky was socked in; the air itself was wet. It wouldn’t clear and if it did, it wouldn’t dry. Following my oft-repeated bon mot (when it rains, climbers go hiking and hikers stay home), we went up to Minnewaska. Starting from Lake Minnewaska, where we couldn’t see to the other side of the lake, we walked the carriage road towards Lake Awosting. Somewhere along the way, good things started to happen.

One minute I was wearing a hood. The next, I’d taken it off. The next, the sky was a brilliant blue dotted with harmless white puffs. Soon we were noticing that the rock along the sides of the trail was dry. At Lake Awosting, we sat on dry, white rock overhanging the deep blue lake and watched the wind paint patterns with ripples across the water.

“I think we should go climb something,” I said.

“I think we have to,” Steven agreed.

I was supposed to be doing Doubleissima. I was supposed to be taking a third, and possibly final, shot at it. Not in the rain, of course. Not when it had just rained, of course.

By the time we made it to the Trapps, it was nearly 1:00 but the rock was bone dry. Even the polished feet and muddy pockets at the bottom of Laurel were dry. The sky went from blue to dark grey to blue again, but the ranger on the way in said it wouldn’t rain again and Steven said if I didn’t like the way the sky looked to wait five minutes.

We ate lunch while we made the long walk. I led Sleepwalk; Steven led Groovy. The rock was dry. It was perfectly dry. The big horizontals weren’t muddy; the small horizontals weren’t sandy. “Let’s do it,” I said.

I never expected to find it taken.

Instead I led Directissima a la Todd and Steven ran up the final pitch.

And then I did it. Yes, clean.

Good things happen when you give them a chance to happen.

Sleepwalk, 5.7 (Dawn)
Groovy, 5.8+ (Steven)
Dirctissima a la Todd (P1/2: Dawn; P3: Steven)
Doubleissima (P1/2: Dawn)

Today was my second try on Doubleissima. I’d like to believe that one more try will do it, but it depends on how soon I can get back on it and how brave I am that day. I was pleased that I started up it, pleased that I pushed through when I was pumped, pleased even to take the whipper on the green Alien. Perhaps less pleased that I hadn’t backed it up since if it hadn’t held, I’d have gone a long way onto another single piece. Trouble is, it’s hard to place even one piece at a time from those stances, never mind two.

The funny story of the day was Scott and the squirrel. Getting ready at the base of Doubleissima (by which I mean dithering and peeing every five minutes), I glanced over and saw Scott wrestling a dead squirrel from a dog.

“Scott! Don’t touch that! It’s not good for you.”

“What?” He throws the furry thing down the slope and the dog chases. “I’m just playing with the dog.”

“Oh. It’s a dog toy. I thought it was a dead squirrel.”

“Aaa! It’s a dead squirrel. I touched a dead squirrel!”

Luckily the dog’s owner had some Purell in her pack.

Bloody Mary, 5.6+ (P1: Scott)
Morning After, 5.8- (P1: Dawn)
Size Matters, 10c (Scott)
Doubleissima, 10 (P1 & 2: Dawn)
Apoplexy, 5.9 (Scott)