Geoff in a typical belay posture

In October I posted a TR after a trip to Yosemite to climb with Karl Baba. I got some nice feedback and no flames at all (as I remarked privately to Karl, I must have been doing it wrong). One of the people who emailed me was GeoffCJ. We ended up exchanging emails and when he innocently offered to teach me to trad lead if I were ever out his way, I responded with "What are you doing for Thanksgiving?" (Warning to other rec.climbers: don't make idle invitations to Dawn.) Geoff was a sport about it though and said "What the hell - come on out," and so less than one week after returning from Yosemite I had plane tickets back out to California and a date to meet Geoff for five days of climbing over Thanksgiving.

If the announcement of my trip to Yosemite was met at the gym with a mixture of enthusiasm and disbelief, the announcement of my trip to Joshua Tree and my intention to start trad leading was met with blank stares and, in some cases, outright hostility. An example of one such conversation:

Him: Who pays for all these trips anyway? Not you. 

Me: Yes, me. Who do you think pays for them? 

Him: What do you do for a living? 

Me: Computer stuff. This trip isn't really that expensive - it's mostly just paying for the plane ticket. 

Him: Oh, so you don't pay for the plane tickets. 

Me: No, I said I do have to pay for the plane ticket. JUST WHO EXACTLY DO YOU THINK IS PAYING FOR THIS ANYWAY? 

Him: (shrug) I don't know - some guy with money.

Ick. 

The reaction from my non-climbing acquaintances mostly revolved around the foolhardiness of dashing off to the other side of the country to climb (and share a tent) with a man I'd met over the internet. Apparently since I wasn't paying Geoff his motivation was more questionable, and therefore more suspicious, than Karl's. When I told them that a friend of Geoff's and a friend of his (both male) would be coming along they couldn't decide whether that made the situation more safe or more likely to end up in some kind of gang rape. "Geoff seems like a really nice guy," I kept telling them. The pitying looks I got said it all.

Eric, Geoff, and Kirk (left to right)

On the more positive side, my local climbing mentor Mike spent a few hours on the ground with me showing me how to place gear and Bill, who I made out to be the villain in my last TR, took to calling me Trad Girl and cringing in mock fear of my hardness every time I walked by. The gym manager watched me make my umpteenth assault on the dreaded gym crack and was impressed with my tenacity. "Most people go up that thing once and never go near it again," he said. After innumerable references to the harshness of J-Tree rock I even climbed it without my tape gloves on. Just to prove a point. And I did it too.

It seemed like the weeks till Thanksgiving would never go by and then it seemed like the trip to LAX would never end. When a small fire in the Chicago airport broke out between the gate I arrived at and the gate I needed to get to for my next flight, I despaired of ever getting there at all. But from the moment I finally landed in LA the trip was like a dream. After the first day of climbing, which included my first trad lead, and the fine Thanksgiving feast Geoff cooked us, I declared quite seriously that I was probably the happiest person in the world. And it only got better from there.

But about the climbing: my first trad lead was a 5.3 called Beginner's 3. Geoff scrambled up the back to set an anchor at the top for me (I had never set an anchor before and since he was following me and since he outweighs me considerably, well . . .). I slung enough gear around my neck to climb El Cap without re-racking and set off. My hands shook setting the first piece and I back-clipped it besides but then it all just started to feel right. There was a rhythm to placing the piece, hanging the draw, pulling up the rope, and clipping that was like a memory from another lifetime. That was our last climb of the day and the high lasted me for the rest of the night.
 

Tradgirl in full regalia

The next day I led a 5.5 called Men with Cow's Heads and the day after that I led a 5.6 called Diagnostic and even got to set my own gear anchor at the top of it. I was gaining confidence. I took to wearing a red fleece hat everywhere I went and calling myself Trad Girl, as in "Trad Girl wants all the leads." I was also starting to remember that I had set goals for myself for the week. I wanted to do my first trad lead and, yes, I'd done that. But I'd also had the idea of leading 5.8 by the end of the week. My first few leads (and my first experiences with J-Tree's rather-harsher-than-Yosemite ratings) had knocked that goal out of my head. But now I shared it with Geoff. Let's just say that he didn't make any promises.

On the afternoon of our fourth day we set out to fulfill the goal of another party member: Eric had never done a multi-pitch route. We hiked into Right On (5.5) with a minimal rack and 3 ropes. Geoff led a harder variation of the first pitch and belayed me up. Once Eric had joined us, Geoff handed me the rack and belayed me while Eric belayed Kirk. Geoff couldn't remember what the route was like above us, or even where the next belay was, so I was pretty much on my own up there. It was fantastic. 

For one thing, I fell. Luckily I wasn't far from my last piece and I was in a chimney sort of thing so it was more of a skid than a free fall, but I fell onto a piece I had placed and it held. I fell maybe 6 feet with rope stretch. It wasn't much but it was long enough to know and to wonder. Here's the conversation that followed:

Geoff: You OK? 

Me: (trying to decide) Yes. 

Geoff: What happened? 

Me: (well, duh) I fell. 

Geoff: Are you OK? 

Me: (a little more sure this time) Yeah, I'm OK. 

Geoff: Do you want slack? 

Me: (completely bemused because I'm still hanging from the rope at this point) Um, no. Tension would be good.

This conversation made more sense later. Apparently Geoff never even felt me weight the rope and only asked if I was OK because he heard me yelp. Also, according to Geoff and Eric he didn't ask me if I wanted slack. I either imagined that part or I was hearing Eric ask Kirk if he wanted slack. But anyway, the possibility of having slack fed to me inspired me to get back on the rock and get moving again. I wasn't sorry to have fallen once I recovered from the initial shock. Getting my first lead fall over with was another goal for the weekend. And from there the climb was everything I ever wanted. The adventure of climbing rock that I had never seen before, not even from the ground, of turning a corner without knowing what would come next, of picking my own belay spot and setting my own anchor, and bringing up Geoff - it was all anyone could ever ask for. It was THE REAL DEAL.

Of course, it turned out that I had skipped the actual belay spot - some nice bolts which I didn't even bother to clip as Geoff pointed out when he joined me. But, hey, bolts aren't fun. We re-flaked the rope and, once Eric had joined us, I led the next pitch too. With a new leader and four of us roped together we nearly got benighted, but we finished the scramble down just as dusk descended and I had a new winner in my "best day ever" competition. 

Me leading The Flake (5.8)

On the last day I actually achieved my other goal. I led The Flake, a 5.8, and the hardest climb I've ever done, never mind the 11a at the gym. Now I understand why trad climbers sometimes sniff at the numbers sport climbers put up. Try a J-Tree 5.8 chimney with a 25 pound rack that prevents you from getting any part of your body firmly in contact with the rock or some "easy" slab moves with rope drag so heinous that each step feels like doing squats with double your own body weight. I came very close at one point to setting up a belay and bringing Geoff up to alleviate the rope drag that was trying to kill me. "Don't be a baby," I told myself, "It's not like the rope drag isn't your own damn fault anyway." When Geoff joined me at the top I moaned about the rope drag and he pointed to the flake where I had considered setting the anchor and said, "Some people belay from there." Doh! Note to self: don't let foolish pride interfere with personal safety again.

After The Flake I declared myself done. It couldn't be topped, at least not by me and not at this point in my climbing career. The trip had been more successful than I could have dared imagine. I seriously owe Geoff. Not only is he sweet and generous, he's smart and fun and a really super camp cook. He put a lot of effort into organizing a great trip for us three beginners and he spent the whole time playing tour guide and rope gun. Also, he didn't murder me (for those keeping score at home, that's: Murdered, 0, Not Murdered, 2).

Since getting back I've been dealing with conflicting emotions. On the one hand there's the deep sense of contentment and joy that comes from having found where it is I belong in this world. On the other hand is the heartache of not being there. But I'll be back. This time there's no doubt.