7/1/01 - 7/5/01

Todd and I were in Squamish, British Columbia. Read the trip report: Death by Grnaite

7/2/01

Chris Long sent in this trip report from Devil's Tower: Devils Tower, Wyoming; July 2-7, 2001

Keith Hoek sent in this trip report from Cathole Pass in Connecticut: Monkey Business

7/15/01

On a muggy but clear day we make the steamy tromp through the minor Gunks jungle to Wegetables (5.10) which Todd has in mind to lead. Supposedly, the crux is the poorly protected section near the ground and the intimidating roofs at the top are 5.8. Not.

After spending a lot of time fiddling in a couple of questionable pieces, Todd commits to the opening moves and finds them not too bad. I'm relieved that he's through the worst of it and settle in for some casual belaying.

Shortly after he pulls the first roof sounds of distress start filtering down to me. He throws in a piece below the second roof with lightening speed. I expect him to clip it and move along to what must surely be a good stance above the second roof but suddenly he's downclimbing.

"Pumpy," he says. He climbs back up to the piece, clips it, and says "take" almost simultaneously. More climbing and taking finally get him over all three roofs (or was it four?) and to the top.

"I thought that was supposed to be 5.8," he mutters as he lowers back down.

I climb like a mad-woman, figuring that to move fast is my only hope. I'm yanking gear out, not even bothering to rack it, trying to find a rest under any of the roofs and not finding one. Half way over the last roof my arms give out.

Damn. Perhaps any single one of these roofs, with a nice rest before and after, is 5.8 but we Gunks folk just aren't used to such sustained climbing. Todd gets it clean on TR and is already scheming about another attempt on lead, but even on a second try, knowing where the jugs are, I can't pull that last roof without a rest. It's a nice route but not to be snickered at at 5.10.

Next we TR Tennish Anyone next to it, also pumpy at 5.10 while I chew over the idea of leading a nearby 5.8. The route starts off a block with a step across into a corner. I stand on the block and consider the starting holds across the chasm. I look down at the ground, miles below me, so much to hit. Scary. Should I or shouldn't I?

It starts raining while we're working on Tennish Anyone. Where did this rain come from? The clouds are moving fast overhead, must have come in while we were concentrating. We're protected under the Wegetables roof but the crux of the 5.8 is exposed to the elements. No leading for me today. Oh well.

I watch Todd step across to the corner and back again like it's nothing. Saved from the prospect of actually leading the route, I too make the step across and find it no more challenging than stepping over a puddle on solid ground. My fear is blowing everything out of proportion lately. With great courage I even mimic Todd's casual hop back over onto the block. Nothing to see here. Just don't look down.

7/22/01

Chris Long sent in this trip report from Mt. Lindsey: Mt. Lindsey, UN 13,848, Iron Nipple: July 28-29

7/22/01

I haven't led anything since we got back from Squamish. It's time to lead something now. I've always wanted to lead Outer Space (5.8-) at the Nears. I don't know why exactly. Maybe it's because no one, not even Steven, seems to know exactly where the route goes.

"Easier than it looks," the guide book says. Well, sheesh, it would have to be. Standing below the Kansas City roof it's hard to see a 5.8 way out. I sit on a boulder and try to match the route description to the available rock.

"Any idea where Outer Space goes?" I ask climbers passing by. One guy gives me an opinion that's something near to one of the two possibilities I'd been considering. He sounds so confident too. But after consultation with the other guidebook and Todd and after spotting some pins, I finally decide that it's my other possibility. The Williams guide mentions that the route starts behind the tree with three trunks and that's the deciding factor. It's a much more clear description than Swain's "middle of the slab" which seems to point to the other choice.

So now I know where the route goes but the question remains: am I leading it? "Easier than it looks." OK. But how's the gear? PG, which could mean anything.

"So you go up and if you don't like it you come down," Todd says.

Yes, yes. That's the sensible answer, make rational decisions as you go, don't get yourself in a situation you can't get out of, don't try to climb it all from the ground, climb it as you find it. I know how to do all that now.

Fine. I will lead it. Without much ado and with some decent gear along the way, I make it up to the first of the pins I could see from the ground. I clip the pin, even back it up, then start to pull over the little blocky roof.

"I think you should be going left from here," Todd says.

"But there aren't any holds that way," I say, "and there's a pin up there." Indeed, there are two pins up there, if only I could reach them, and a single hold up there, if only it led to another one. I pull as far over the block as I can and lock off on the single hold. The pins are just out of reach - I need to lock off a little higher; I need to let one foot leave the rock; I need to bounce. No fucking way.

I back down and add another piece. This is bomber gear and a nice looking pin. I really should be willing to chance falling on it. But I'm so not. Frankly, this is a move I'd be hesitant to make on TR and I never have been any good at risking falling intentionally.

"I really think you should go left," Todd repeats.

It's true that the slabby ramp goes left. It's true that the route goes left, actually. It's just that there aren't really any holds over there. I suppose I'm meant to just step up on the slab . . .

I try it and find one lousy hold up there somewhere.

"That looks good," Todd says as I scurry back to the safety of my gear. I still didn't see a second hold. I try again and find a side pull from which, in a very gym-like move, I'm able to hang a draw through the pin. As I pull the rope up to clip it I realize that this is the first time I've ever seriously considered the possibility of falling while clipping on a trad route.

Clipped. I should be relieved but, Oh my God! I clipped the wrong the pin. There are two pins side by side and it's clear why. Pin #1, the one I've just clipped, probably because the eye was so damned accessible, is pulled half way out and is a twisted into a semi-cork crew shape. Now I'm scared because I've just added rope out to clip into a highly dubious piece. I'm too pumped to add a second draw and too uncertain to downclimb.

Todd getting the rest on Low Exposure (5.11-)

Finally I say take, but softly. Todd takes me so softly I slither down too far to reach the pins. I heave myself back up using the small portion of the miniscule horizontal crack the pins aren't taking up and let him take me a little harder. Hanging from the questionable pin so I can fix the fact that I'm clipped to it. Pure genius.

Once I'm safely backed up to the second pin I survey the route. I still don't really see where it goes. It certainly doesn't go up here. I can vagely see how it goes to the left but don't like the looks of the gear situation. I have nothing to climb towards, no safety net in the forseeable future.

"I want to come down," I tell Todd. I add a piece to the two-pin anchor and lower off. Todd goes up to rescue me.

"Now I see what all the issue are," he says, after popping his head up over the block to look at the top pins. He cleans some of the mass of gear I've left in this five foot section of rock and then sails off to the left.

"I think you made all the right choices," he tells me when he hits the ground again, but I'm not so sure when I follow it. Yes, there's a runout after the pins, a potentially dangerous runout. But only the first move of the traverse left is really hard and that one is protected from above by the pins. Yes, the little roof-notch thing farther on is tricky and a stretch at my height, but that one's well-protected and I did it, didn't I? I should have been able to lead Outer Space, I tell myself. I should have tried harder at least.

We make a pact that I'll quit leading for a while, to restore my joy in climbing which has been damaged by all the drama and angst. Then we trot off to the swimming hole, a much nicer place to spend such a hot day anyway.

7/29/01

Dan leading Bunny (5.4)

"Will you climb for Dawn?" the gym manager asks Lisa. I graduated from belay class last week and have to take my mandatory re-test before I'm set free to belay at will.

"Sure," Lisa says. She climbs slowly, giving me time to go through the elaborate ritual of pinching and sliding. She pauses. She falls.

Since then I've climbed for a few people myself, so I know the drill. You have to fall without warning. I also know that, even knowing the tester is backing up the testee, it's not that easy to let go.

I catch Lisa and pass the test. Ordinarily I'd probably be left to my own devices now but this is a friendly gym and Gary, the gym manager, knows I've been worried about not having a partner.

"Do you have anyone to climb with?" he asks. I shake my head. "You can climb with Lisa," he offers on her behalf.

"Sure," she says again. I know Lisa better now. I know she isn't crazy about climbing with beginners because of how much time they spend hanging on the rope. So maybe it's not surprising that I get handed off to Dan. Dan has a way with beginners.

"Nice lower!" he says as he hits the ground. "Good belay!" I glow in response.

Flash forward two years to Sunday at the Gunks. I'm belaying Todd as he leads Hurdie Gerdie (5.8+). I should really be paying attention to him as he makes thin moves above thin gear but my mind is on Lisa and Dan around the corner on Bunny (5.4). Between the two of them, they probably have more years of climbing experience than I have of life experience, but today they're reacquainting themselves with trad climbing and I'm feeling like a mother hen.

"I should have stayed where I could see them," I fret guiltily. Finally Todd lowers off and I can check on them. They're fine, of course. Dan is off belay and Lisa is getting ready to follow him.

Dan on Nurdie Gerdie (5.10+)

I follow Todd on Hurdie Gerdie. The irony is that I'm not leading anything today. I've become so scared, so scarred, my psyche so broken, that we've deemed it advisable that I take some time off and learn to enjoy climbing again without fear. I'm the wrong person to be guiding Dan and Lisa on their rexploration of the wonderful world of trad.

While we wait for Dan and Lisa to come down, Todd and I work on Nurdie Gerdie, the 5.10+ with the infamous single-finger-pocket move. I skip the first crux by using the arete. I'm really only interested in the finger-pocket move. It takes a couple of tries but I get it.

"That's the sort of move you could hurt yourself on," I say as I lower off.

Todd pulls the first crux but falls at the finger pocket.

"Shit!" he explodes.

I'm surprised he's reacting so dramatically. It's not like I got it clean, after all.

"It popped," he says. "Fuck." He's holding his hand funny and finally I get it. He's not pissed about blowing the move. He's hurt himself.

Lisa cleaning on Horseman (5.5)

"We've lost our rope gun," I tell Lisa and Dan mournfully while Todd goes to soak his finger in the stream. More to the point, I've lost my rope gun. So much for my leading siesta.

But for now we have a rope up on Nurdie Gerdie, which Dan and Lisa are willing to try despite what the route just did to Todd, and on Red Cabbage (5.9) around the corner. As they're finishing up, I'm surprised to see that Horseman (5.5) is about to be open. I snag it for them.

"Classic," I tell them. I flake our trail rope out for them. "Now you know how to do a double-rope rappel, right?"

"Dawn," Dan says flatly, rolling his eyes at me. OK. They know. He leads the first pitch and Lisa the second as Todd and I tinker around on the ground. We run into a friend. She's injured with a healthy partner and I'm healthy with an injured partner. I follow her partner's lead of Apoplexy, allowing us to put a rope up on Apoplexy and Coronary.

This turns out to be a slight tactical error on our part as it doesn't take me long to run up the two routes (which I seem to climb almost every weekend) and now, leaving the rope up for Dan and Lisa, we're out of ropes for me. As soon as they hit the ground, we grab their rope to set up Low Exposure (5.11-).

The last time I got on this route I made almost no progress at all. Today, with some hanging in the middle, I finally make it to the top. I'm so thrilled. I've never been high enough on this route to be able to hang before, so hanging alone is an accomplishment.

Lisa and Dan have thoroughly enjoyed their trad experiences so far but they can't be talked into trying Low Exposure, not even after I describe it as "brutal, awkward, and painful - totally trad."