It starts with me and Lisa and Brenda, a sort of girl's only climbing trip.  I've never been to Rumney before.  But then neither have Todd and Steven so I invite them along.  We run into Julie at the Gunks one day and it turns out she needs a partner for that weekend.   She lives in Boston, so it's closer for her anyway.  Naturally Brenda wants to bring her boyfriend Jeff along, a welcome addition since he climbs harder than any of us.  Then one of Todd's regular partners, Edison, gets added and the guys Lisa and I climb with at the gym: Mike, Dan and Barry.  Dave Anderson mentions wanting to meet me and Steven on rec.climbing and Rumney's a lot closer for him than the Gunks.

Ultimately there are twelve of us.  I create a "Rumney Trip" email list, count guidebooks, try to match up people to share tents and rides.  Lisa reserves three campsites.  I begin to worry that we'll descend on Rumney like a hoard of locusts, that we'll never manage to get twelve people moving in the morning, that the Gunks crowd won't mix with the gym crowd, that people who don't read either rec.climbing or gunks.com will feel left out of the conversation.  I forget to worry that no one will show up.

Me on Cold Turkey (5.10c)

This time it starts with Steven.  He decides that he needs to spend some of the short time he has between Seneca and Yosemite closer to home.  Even the prospect of meeting Dave Anderson can't tempt him into joining us.  Then Edison cancels, then Dan.  Julie says she'll show up Saturday night.  Dave, Brenda and Jeff all have plans to stay elsewhere.  Barry has just plain disappeared.

"The hell with it," I tell Todd.  "I'm done playing cruise director.  You and I and Mike and Lisa will have a good time anyway."  But secretly I'm haunted by the vision of two tents stretched across a hundred dollars worth of campsites.  It turns out not to be quite that bad.  When Todd and I get to the campground we find that Barry is with Mike and Lisa and that they each have their own tent.  Once Julie has joined us Saturday night there are five tents in our three site suite, a respectable number.  But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Saturday morning we start at the 5.8 crag.  In keeping with the spirit of the name, I lead a 5.8, Snake Skin Slab.  I stand at the bottom of the route feeling the rock.  It's very positive, sharp even.  It feels like just about anything could be a hold if you wanted it to be badly enough.  Nevertheless, I start up shakily.  New rock is always strange.  The first clip is too high for my taste and I have to step up to reach it - I'm too short to clip it from the good stance.  I move slowly, testing each hold as if my life depends on it, even though the route is responsibly bolted.  I'm only just starting to feel comfortable when I reach the anchors and then I'm safely clipped in and lowering off before I know it.

Todd leads it next, then Barry.  Barry and I started climbing at almost exactly the same time but he's been outside very little.  This is one of his first leads outside but he looks much less sketched on it than I did.  I think to myself that this has something to do with taking a few bad falls. I can remember when I went sailing up routes on lead without a second thought too and wonder if I'm getting more cautious or just more timid.

Julie on Cold Turkey (5.10c)

Lisa asks Todd to put a rope up on Arm and Hammer (5.11a) so we wander around the corner to check it out.  One bolt looks very much like another so we ask a pair of guys on the corner to point out the route.  They're eager to do so and ask Todd if he wants beta.  He says no but then spends quite a bit of time fingering the first holds and looking at the first bolt.  It's a man thing.  I know he'll never ask the guys if he can borrow their stick clip so I walk back down the hill and do it for him.

"That's why I haven't put it away yet," one of them says as he hands me the stick.  They follow me back up the hill, feed Todd some beta after all, and watch him pull through the first moves.  He doesn't like the next hold so he reverses the moves till he's back on the ground.

"You just downclimbed the crux," I tell him, shaking my head.  I thought he was just doing the route to put the rope up for Lisa but now I know that flashing it matters to him.  He gets some more beta from the guys and starts back up, making it to the rest at the second bolt this time.  There are spots above that where he whines a little but he gets his flash and lowers off.

"It's really hard," he tells me seriously and I know that means he's not sure I can do it.

"It's OK," I tell him.  "I won't mind if I can't do it."

I put my hands on the first holds.  It seems like they ought to be good enough - until I try to pick my feet up, that is.  There's a small ledge where I need to put one of my feet in order to make the long move to the next hold but I can't quite get a foot up there from the ground; I have to make an intermediate move.  Todd just did a sort of smeary/hoppy thing but I don't have the strength to hold the outward pull that generates.

In the meantime, Jeff and Brenda have shown up and Jeff has put a rope up on a 10d on the corner.  Our group is taking turns on it as I repeatedly step up on and fall off of the same move.  Barry asks me if the route is hard.  He can't wait to try his first outdoor 5.11.

Barry on Egg McMeadows (5.10a)

"Yes, it's hard," I tell him.

With any other partner I'd have politely given up already but Todd appreciates stubbornness and I have plenty of it.

"How's it going over there?" Barry asks umpteen tries later.

"Still in the same place, Barry," I tell him testily.  There are many facets to climbing outside.  There's how hard you can climb, certainly, but there's also how hard you lead, how good your gear is, how efficiently you set an anchor, how well you keep it together high above your last piece, how much endurance you have, your route finding abilities.  Mix in the variations of sport, trad, ice and alpine and who's a better climber than whom is not so easy to determine.  In the gym there's only how hard you climb and I know the relative place that each of us from my gym crowd holds in this hierarchy.  Barry and I are dead even.  It aggravates me to think that he might come over and walk up this route when I can't even get off the ground.

Finally Todd finds me a foot that works and I pull the first move.  The route is hard all the way up.  There are a couple of moves that Todd did dynamically but I have absolutely no dynamic technique so I have to find a way to make them statically.  I fall a few more times but in the end I've done all the moves and I'm reasonably pleased.  Lisa climbs the route next.  She's four inches shorter than I am and watching her climb reminds me that I should shut up about reach problems.  She hits every hold statically and is a pleasure to watch.  Then Barry climbs the route.  Not to gloat, but he doesn't do any better on it than I did.

By now there's someone waiting for Arm and Hammer and our rope has been pulled on the 10d for the same reason.  The crag, which was already hideously crowded when we got there, is growing more crowded by the minute.  We're just packing up to move to Waimea when I hear Todd say "Dave Anderson."  Sure enough, there's Dave with three friends.  Introductions are made and Dave and his friends decide to head to Waimea with us.

Jeff starts up Waimea (5.10d/5.11a) immediately.  The rest of us sit around and eat and gawk at China Beach (5.14) and other routes that look even less plausible.  Jeff reaches the first set of anchors and continues up to the second set, over a roof dripping with water.  He asks if anyone wants to do the higher portion of the route and I insist that Todd does at least, so he leaves it set up.  Everyone wants to try the route but no one wants to go first.  Finally Dave volunteers.  He falls once at the crux and then cruises steadily to the first anchor.  He's ready to come down but we all urge him to try the upper portion and he does it without much trouble.

Dave on Waimea (5.10d/5.11c)

There are twelve of us now.  It'll be a while before we all get a turn so Dave and his friends and I go over to Triple Corners.  There's a large group there too and they have a rope or draws up on everything under 5.11.  Although it's somewhat annoying to find all the routes occupied, the group leader is reasonably cooperative, agreeing to our top-roping on their ropes or leading through their draws.

I tie into Technical Second (5.10b) with Dave belaying me.  I enjoy the route and find the crux to be at the roof where you make a blind move around the corner.  But that's not where I fall.  I fall on the last move before the anchors, surprising myself and making my customary "eek" noise.

"Are you OK?" Dave asks me.

"Of course," I tell him.  It was just a top-rope fall, after all.  I study the move and have no trouble with it the second time.  It's just a matter of putting my foot in the right place.  One of Dave's friends goes up next and falls on the same move.  He too has no problem with it on a second try.

As Dave ties in, I go back to Waimea to belay Todd.  He climbs the route cleanly all the way to the second anchor and I tell him he should have led it.  Next it's my turn.  I know where the crux is from watching people fall off it.  And I know that it's a balance problem from hearing them talk about it.  Below the crux the route is pumpy.  Although it doesn't appear to be very steep at first glance, it overhangs just enough to keep your weight on your arms the whole way on holds that are only barely good enough.  I'm tired when I get to the crux and the switch from arm-intensive power moves to delicate, footwork-intensive moves is almost a relief.  I make it to the first anchor cleanly but don't manage to pull the roof below the second anchor.  A little beta and a second try gets me over it.

Barry on Lies and Propaganda (5.8+)

There are still more of us to climb Waimea.  I head back over to Triple Corners and lead Trigger Happy (5.9).  I enjoy the lead immensely.  It's challenging the whole way but never really scary, especially since it's generously bolted.  The roof looks intimidating but is surprisingly easy to pull.  One of Dave's friends cleans and another one belays him as I watch a pair of women on Technical Second.  I know they've just finished the 11 next to it and should be fine on this route but I whisper to the belayer that the hardest move is just below the anchor, thinking she might as well have the warning.

Sure enough, the leader comes off there.  It's about as long a fall as you can take on a Rumney route.  She's startled but fine. She goes back up and pulls the move by grabbing the anchor itself.  When she lowers off she apologizes to everyone watching.  Then she thanks her belayer for catching her.  Hmmm.  I think I'm a little short on post-fall etiquette.  It's never occurred to me to apologize to the onlookers.  They got a free show after all.  I really should thank my belayer but I'm usually busy crying instead.  I'll do better next time but for now I'm just glad it wasn't me.

The group that was monopolizing the crag is packing up to leave but no one in my group seems to have the energy left to climb.  All the talk is about swimming and food so we pack up too.  On the way out we take a gander at The Fly (unrated), recently touted in Climbing Magazine as "the hardest short route in America."  Todd and Dave take turns trying to hang from the first holds while I snap pictures of their attempts.  Then Todd lifts me up past the first holds and we get an excellent picture of me "dynoing" for the third hold.

'Dynoing' for the third hold on The Fly (unrated)

"Does Julie know our campsite number?" Todd asks me later that night.

"No."

"How is she supposed to find us?"

"She has Mike's license plate number," I tell him, suddenly realizing the unlikelihood of her spotting a license plate in the dark amongst the many nooks, crannies, and spurs of the campground.  But we have no way to contact her so we go to sleep.

"Dawn?" the darkness outside our tent says some amount of time later.  Strange, that the darkness should be talking directly to me.  It takes me a minute to orient.

"Julie?"  Sure enough, Julie has found us.  She adds her tent to our sparse grouping and we go back to sleep.

On Sunday the six of us start at the Parking Lot Wall.  While the others lead up more sensible 5.6s and 5.7s, Todd is insistent that I start on a 5.10a, Egg McMeadows.  Well, the first clip is a breeze so I don't mind.  For the most part it goes smoothly.  Until I get to a hard move to a bad hold just below the next bolt.  I move up, feel the hold, and move back down.  I take a draw and try to clip it without letting go of the good hold below but I can't quite reach the bolt.  I step back down.  I move up again, grab the bad hold, hang the draw.  More scared than I've ever been while clipping, I pull the rope up and manage on the third try to get it through the draw.  Breathing a sigh of relief I make the next move and find the clipping hold, absolutely bomber.

Having "warmed up" on a 10a, I tinker around with the 5.6 and 5.7 while the others take turns on Egg McMeadows.  No one except me seems to have any motivation today.  Most of them are complaining of either injury, exhaustion, or illness.  As a group we move listlessly to the Meadows.  Mike starts on Lies and Propaganda, 5.8+.  Todd finds a new route, noted on the route addendums I found online as Cold Turkey, 5.10c and figures I should lead it.  It's wet in spots but just at the bottom.

Todd leading Lies and Propaganda (5.8+)

I do the first couple of moves through the mud to a good stance from which the first bolt can be clipped.  The next move is hard, up to a wet but bomber hold.  Hard-but-not-desperate move follows hard-but-not-desperate move.  The bolts are reassuringly close together.  Then I'm pulling over the top to a good stance on the slabby portion above.  Whereas the bolts on the steep part were only four to six feet apart, the bolts on the slab are a looooong ways apart.  The climbing is easy but I can't stop thinking about my fall on The White Way.  I place each foot carefully, glad I'm dealing with sharp, solid edges instead of sandy dips.  I reach the anchors safely and lower off, surprised when Todd chooses to TR it instead of leading it.  His arm hurts, he says. 

Todd and I switch places with the others and I lead Lies and Propaganda, surprisingly hard and easily the most sandbagged route we climbed all weekend.  By now Mike, Lisa and Barry are ready to head home.  Todd, Julie and I move farther down the crag.  I lead a 5.8 called Easy Terms and then we TR No Money Down (5.10b) which Todd does cleanly but which I can't manage to pull. It's the first fall I've taken all day.  We finish with a dip in the river and then start the drive back.

Dave emails me that night that he took a short lead fall on a 5.10c on Sunday and I tell him that he can blame me.  Since I didn't take a lead fall the entire weekend the universe was out of balance and something had to give.

I enjoyed the weekend of bolt clipping and top roping.  It's nice to take a break from the stress of trad leading now and then.  It's also nice to lead routes that are so close to my climbing limit without putting myself in danger.  And it was great to meet and climb with Dave, who's every bit as fun as he seems on rec.climbing.  But, please, remind me never to try to organize another group climbing trip again.