10/7/2000 & 10/8/2000

On Saturday Steven and I went to Lost City. I'd never been there before and Steven has only been twice so we spent a little time wandering around looking at everything. Finally we found Lost City Crack (5.10a) which Steven had led on a previous trip and decided to start with that. When we were done we dropped a TR on the face to the right of it which looked hard.

Steven tried the opening moves a few times and then decided to use the cheater block. We'd already figured out that you could scramble up a nearby block and lean over onto the face at a jug from which point the climbing looked a little easier. He got a long way up the route with some falls and then decided to come down.

I was making some progress climbing the direct start so I was determined to get it. I must have made 20 attempts, each time getting a little higher but ending up back on the ground. Eventually I noticed that I was shredding the skin off the fingertips on my right hand and decided to quit. Later we ran into some guys on Survival of the Fittest (5.13) and asked them about the face. They told us it was 11c if you start from the block, 12a from the ground. Woo hoo! As I said to Steven, "I'm almost there. All I have left to do is the hard move."

From there we found a pair of cracks that Steven thought were 5.8. There was another crack in a corner nearby that looked more enticing though and I decided to lead that one even though I didn't know what it was rated. It ended up being easier than 5.8 and a really fun route with lots of great stems and a few good jams. I felt pretty good leading this route, no irrational moments of fear at all. Plus I hardly used any cams. The more scared I am, the more I use cams as an emotional crutch.

On Sunday Todd led the first pitch of Snooky's Return (5.8) for me. This was the route I backed off of leading a couple of weeks ago because of thin pro protecting a thin move at the crux. Todd hemmed and hawed at the crux fiddling with the gear. He placed a brass nut which seemed like a much better placement than the steel nut I placed. Someone had emailed me suggesting Lowe Balls at the crux, which Todd carries. He did try a Lowe Ball but neither one of us has any faith in them (well, that's another story) and eventually he took it out and threw it at me (OK, not me, the ground). Instead he placed a black Alien above the brass nut. The Alien was placed such that it would rotate in a fall and probably fail, but it did seem to be helping keep the nut in and the combination looked more confidence-inspiring than my gear had (but maybe that's because I was safely on the ground, huh?).

I also got to see that this gear, as questionable as it was, would only be at his waist when he finished the move so it wouldn't have to hold much of a fall. I could also see that the bomber gear below the crux gear would keep him off the ground. When you're leading it's not always easy to judge whether or not your next lowest piece is high enough to keep you from decking.

When it was my turn to follow, I had no trouble at all with the crux move. It was a simple step up move, just like Steven had said. It didn't even feel thin to me. I decided that I will try leading the route again soon. It'll be a good exercise for me. Hopefully I'll remember that the move is easy and will do it with confidence.

I was supposed to lead the second pitch of Snooky's but we couldn't figure it out, so I just led straight up from the belay to the rap station. It was a little run out in places but the moves were mostly easy and I kept my head together except for one spot where I really wanted some gear. Todd suggested a placement opportunity and I got in the black Alien and one of those Lowe Balls. How far do you want to climb above a black Alien and a Lowe Ball? I had to climb a lot further than I wanted to, I can tell you that.

Todd thought our variation was maybe 5.9 R but I didn't think it was any worse than 5.7 PG. Either way, I was pleased with the lead. I think I actually have an easier time leading when I don't know what the rating is. It allows me to deal with what comes up as I go, rather than anticipating the worst from the outset.

Gunks rock has such nice friction compared to Yosemite. It was a pleasure to climb on it this weekend and even though climbing trips are fun it's also nice to be home.

10/14/2000

We climbed in a group of 7 on Saturday, which worked out better than you might think. We landed in the Broken Sling area. I've pretty thoroughly led the routes in my range in that area, including both pitches of Broken Sling (5.8+) in one long pitch during the apex of my leading career.

The route has a "bouldery start" which means that you're past the crux before you get any gear in. From there the difficulty eases up considerably. During this recent period of lead head woes I have stated more than once that you couldn't get me to lead that route again. Much of that had to do with the second pitch, though, which features a long runout traverse, not hard but the fall would be serious. So on Saturday I stood at the bottom of Broken Sling, considering the possibility of leading the first pitch, bouldery start and all, and decided to try it.

I sketched through the opening moves, needing a little more encouragement (and a spot) than I had the first time around, but I did resist the urge to place gear immediately upon its becoming possible. I remembered that the gear, and the stance, were better if I stood up first and had the faith in myself that I needed to do it.

Since I had led the route before and was actually feeling pretty strong and calm, I decided to try the direct variation which goes through the first roof instead of around it to the left. This variation is described as "no harder than 5.8". The gear was good, so I started up, remembering that I could downclimb if I didn't like what I found, but I had no problem pulling through it. I've learned better than to think that my lead head problems are solved because of one success, but I felt good about re-leading this route which was undoubtedly one of the most challenging I ever led.

Everyone led something or other and there were plenty of ropes to choose from throughout the day. Although the parking lots were congested, the Nears were strangely quiet and we didn't seem to be in anyone's way. We had a bad moment when we realized that Todd's rack was missing. After a half hour of searching it was eventually discovered farther down the cliff. Apparently another climber had moved it, mistakenly believing it belonged to a friend of his. Thanks to everyone who helped look for it and especially to those people who graciously opened their packs for us.

Todd put a rope up on the first pitch of Inverted Layback (5.9). There's no fixed anchor at the top of the first pitch, so we knew that eventually two people would have to go up and finish the route to the top. I had led the second pitch (5.8) before (again during my "leading is easy" days). No one else was jumping at the opportunity, so it fell to me to be the leader who would finish the route.

I was followed by a guy from our party who has 20 years of climbing experience. At the first belay he said "I've never followed a woman before." I thought this was odd. I knew he had a regular woman partner and that he has followed (i.e. cleaned gear for) her before, so I questioned Todd about it later. Todd's take was that he was referring to a multi-pitch situation. Even so, I was surprised he'd never swung leads with such a regular partner, or followed her up a multi-pitch route at her leading level.

Eventually I decided he meant that he'd never had a woman leader before, meaning that he'd never arrived at a belay to have a woman start barking orders at him - "Sit there. Clip into that. Hold this." This was interesting considering a recent discussion on rec.climbing (see All Women CLimbers of SF Bay Area UNITE!!! if you're feeling masochistic). But it wasn't a problem. I led and he followed and we both arrived at the top safe and sound. Now he's followed a woman and he's none the worse for it.

Another highlight of the day was taking a second stab at Criss (5.11) which I think I'm really close to getting clean if I can just remember the exact sequence I need to use. The lowlight for the day was the traffic from the cliff to New Paltz. Fear of traffic, combined with soreness, general malaise, and the Cowboys/Giants game, kept me and Todd at home on Sunday. The Cowboys lost, BTW. Guess we should have gone climbing.

10/21/2000 & 10/22/200

I'm back, baby!

Here is how I came to lead my first Gunks 5.9 on Saturday. I suggest CCK (5.7), a classic I've never been on. Steven agrees, but we find a group of three racking up at the base. Steven counters with Erect Direction, the first pitch of which is 5.8, a favorite of his, and will deposit us on the GT ledge from which we can traverse to catch up with CCK.

Steven is positively rabid about Erect Direction. He's made me promise to "save" it for him. This promise hasn't been hard to keep as no one else ever so much as mentions the route. The thing is, I signed on for 5.7, not 5.8, but I see the route is very G and I'm feeling good. What the hell?

Steven calls it a mini Double Crack and it's easy to see why. The stances are closer together and the route is shorter but the climbing is much the same - a steep, broken crack with the crux coming close to the ground. I cruise it.

I'm silently urging Steven to climb faster as he follows me. I want to beat the party of three to the second pitch of CCK. But I've taken longer and placed considerably more gear than the CCK leader, who is clearly climbing well within his abilities on 5.5. They win.

We're concerned about his two followers, who both appear to be beginners. I start to scheme about using CCK Direct (5.9) to pass them while they're at the second belay on CCK. CCK Direct climbs to the top in one pitch from the GT ledge, while CCK takes two pitches. I'm foiled by Steven, who for some reason talks their leader into taking the Direct route himself. Now there's no way around them.

I have plenty of time to think while they climb. I'm torn between moving on to something else while there's still daylight left (that's an exaggeration, since it's about 11:00 am) and leading CCK Direct.

"Maybe I should do CCK Direct," I finally say (directly) after skirting around the topic for awhile.

"Maybe you should," Steven says. He neither encourages nor dissuades.

I bombard him with questions about the route. The most frightening part, he tells me, is what he calls the "5.8R start." He points out the gear placements for me - there's the first one; there's the next one. I'm convinced that I won't actually hit the ledge, though it's clear that it would be close. Besides, the climbing through that section looks easy (warning, warning: delusion in progress). He gives me no specific move beta, but I learn everything I can about the gear, the stances, and the way the route goes.

I am strangely calm, despite the enforced wait. I don't know if I can lead the route cleanly, but I'm convinced that I can lead it safely. This is perhaps the greatest benefit of my lead head crisis experience. I now understand that leading the route safely is my goal and I've developed some faith in my ability to do that, even on a route that may be slightly over my head.

Finally it's my turn. OK, that isn't fair. The group of three is actually remarkably efficient and it's my turn before I expect it to be. I climb through the easy opening moves. There's the horizontal where my first piece goes. Eeek! I'm not keen on doing the move to get to the horizontal. I manage to sneak a piece into the close side of the horizontal at full extension.

Thus fortified, I start the traverse. The traverse is steep, much steeper than it looked from the ground (oh, but what isn't?). I stop at a jug, sit on my foot, and throw another piece into the horizontal before I'm out of range. I know this is my last piece for awhile and I want it to be good.

Huffing and puffing I finish pulling the small roof at the end of the traverse and plug in another piece of gear. I have to put a four foot sling on it to prevent rope drag, but I'm out of groundfall range for the moment and at the end of the "R" section of the climb.

It's the second roof that nearly gets me. Steven has said that I can get gear over the roof before pulling it. I feel a bomber horizontal just over the roof but am unwilling to commit to moving up to look at it without gear below. I throw a cam into the corner under the roof and step back up. This is when I discover that the "bomber horizontal" is a great hold but a lousy place to put gear. It's more of a ledge than a crack. Still, the holds are so big that I'm not concerned.

With the cam a ways below and off to my right, I pull over the roof. Ack! Here's the hard move: a hideous layback off a tiny sidepull to finish. I do it, relieved. That one was close and I should have come back down and reevaluated the gear situation. (Steven later tells me that I could have placed a small nut in the vertical seam that splits the roof).

Now I'm on to the section that is shared with the regular CCK route, a layback/jam crack/flake thing. Steep. This is 5.7? Musn't place gear more than half way up or I'll slaughter myself with rope drag. Must be brave. Only 5.7. Tiny little roof at the top. Steven says there are jugs. I can do this. Don't need gear. Want it a little, but don't need it. Whew!

After the middle roof, the final one is almost anti-climactic, although it takes me more than a minute to figure out how to start the traverse. From there, it's pumpy but straightforward. And that's it. Pull the final roof and the route is over. 5.9. Me. 5.9. So there.

And Sunday? I led a 5.8 at the far end of the Nears named, dramatically, 5.8 G in the Swain book (Outsider according to Williams). Todd led Mac Reppy (5.11) clean, clean, clean. His first 5.11 onsight on gear. We also screwed around on the two Voids (Void Where Prohibited and Void Where Inhibited, both 5.11). I won't bore you with the details. Let's just say that I eventually pulled through two of three. Which one couldn't I do? The one the guide book describes as "the easiest looking 5.11 in the Gunks." (Sorry, can't remember which route is which - it's the left of the two Voids).

The route has an excellent horizontal crack (totally bomber gear, dude) below a tiny little roof, above which is a seriously low-angle corner. How hard can it be? Heh, heh, heh. Go find out for yourself. And bring along a 5.8 leader to sandbag.

10/28/2000 & 10/30/200

On Saturday Steven, Todd, and I climbed with a guy doing his first trad leads on his brand new rack. On Sunday, Todd and I climbed with a guy who's been leading for 20 years and carries a set of the original rigid Friends. And yet, the two days had more in common than they had different.

Fresh from my first 5.9 the weekend before, I had the urge to keep pushing, so while Steven belayed HJ on Horseman (5.5), Todd and I went to do Red Cabbage (5.9-). After a thorough examination of both guidebooks, I have come to the following conclusion: the 5.9- variation of Red Cabbage pulls around the arete to the left face when the crack ends - before the bulge. This, however, is not at all what I did.

I led up to the end of the crack, placing gear every few feet and ending up hugely pumped as a result (steep, man).

"You might want to extend that," Todd said, referring to my last piece at the top of the crack.

"Not right now, I don't," I told him. I was ready to fall off any moment and had no desire to add to the length of the fall. Taking a deep breath, I started pulling over the bulge. A couple of desperate moves brought me to a spot where I could pull right to what looked like a Thank-God stance. It wasn't. On top of that, there was no gear there and the next move promised to be powerful.

My last piece wasn't far beneath me but was off to my left. The fall was clean and I didn't want to take it. I stepped down. The stance wasn't much better but I was able to get gear.

"You might want to extend that," Todd said. I didn't even have the strength to answer. "If you step down again, you'll have better feet," he added. This was a much more helpful suggestion. I milked the rest for all it was worth (not that much, unfortunately), then bravely extended the piece and stepped back up.

I still didn't feel like doing the next move. I had the hands in hand. I could envision the move. What I couldn't envision was myself pulling through it in my current exhausted condition. But wait! This time a protection opportunity presented itself. I fumbled in a nut at chest height and, fortified by its presence, found a slightly less powerful way to do the move. Finally, a stance! I threw in a nice tri-cam and moved easily to my left and around the nose to finish the route.

I thought I'd been off-route when I stepped down. Todd thought I was on-route when I stepped down because I'd been off-route when I started pulling over the bulge before moving right. Steven thought I was off-route when I stepped left over the top the bulge because the route finishes up the center of the face. It turned out we were all wrong - everything after the end of the crack was off-route. Leading Red Cabbage was a real confidence booster for me, but I could have made it a lot easier on myself if I'd looked at the guidebook.

Later in the day I followed HJ on Arch (5.5) with its wild traversing moves. He did an excellent job leading it, handling both the scary runout and the intimidating finish. He also learned a bit about the evils of rope drag by not extending the pieces he placed in the corner. I'd never been on the route before and had a great time following it. At the Gunks, following a 5.5 can be every bit as much fun as leading a 5.9 (maybe more fun, now that I think about it).

Sunday's challenging lead was the first pitch of Birdie Party (P1: 5.8+). Dana belayed me encouragingly while I tried to find a brass nut I could believe in. Eventually I got one that was perfectly good - as long as it never felt so much as an ounce of outward force. Suddenly I was longing for Snooky's Return. At least there I'd have another piece between me and the ground. Here my life depended on a) a brass nut, b) my ability to pull the crux move without falling, or c) Todd's spot. It was "c" that ultimately gave me the courage to try the move.

The funny thing was that, having done that move, I discovered that I was only then at the crux. Us shorter folk have an extra thin move to get to the crux. The lucky thing was that, having done that move, the crux wasn't really that intimidating. At least I had hands for it. Lecture all you like about trusting your feet, on lead I'll take a nice set of hands any day.

Todd led Welcome to the Gunks (5.10). It was a good lead - that I couldn't follow! After falling a few times before I even got to the first of the four roofs, I decided that today wasn't the day to work a route. I felt too bad about Todd being stuck so far off the ground without even a hat (I saw actual snowflakes on Sunday - boo!) and Dana stamping around on the ground waiting for his turn to get moving. So I decided to come down and save it for another day. I was awfully proud of Todd though who led the intimidating route with confidence and style.

With me getting my first 5.9, Steven ticking off a few 5.10 triumphs and Todd breaking into 5.11s, it's been a great October for the whole team. Of course, it has occurred to me that if Todd and Steven keep moving up a grade every time I do, I'll never catch up to them. That's OK though. As this weekend proved, it's not how hard someone climbs but how much fun you have climbing with them.