I reach into my chalk bag, yet again surprised at the lack of actual chalk. Not sure why though. I’ve had the same experience for the last six sessions. Anyway, after the fourth dip for each hand, I’m satisfied they’ll be dry for the next week. A quick blow across each palm and I rehearse the moves one more time.
Photo Credit: Eli Powell
In the late 80′s in Seattle Washington, bars and clubs were crawling with bands that would be members of one of the most influential shifts in popular music. Years later these bands would be hailed as the end of the superficial music of the 80’s and the ushers to a new era in music. At the same time, in what I imagine to be another part of town, there was another genesis. The nation’s first indoor climbing gym, Vertical World, opened its doors, marking the beginning of a new genre of climbing. For better or worse, they opened the world of climbing to untold numbers, irreversibly taking the sport into new directions.
With the advent of gyms, climbing was finally accessible to those who may have never had the chance to edge into the sport. Unfortunately, it would also provide the opportunity to teach new climbers just enough to get them in trouble during the transition to outdoors. Adam has already written a comprehensive and compelling article detailing these dangers. For those already connected to the world of climbing, gyms were an inferior substitute for outdoor routes, but also a singular training tool.
After the long hike to The Slab’s north face, I peeled off my drenched shirt and hung it on a nearby tree branch. The cold air and shady area quickly chilled my skin, leaving a slimy layer of sweat. We picked a warm-up route and I cinched my harness and grabbed some draws. When I reached back into my pack, my hand discovered nothing but empty granola bar wrappers and my usual training cinder blocks. I had no shoes!
Ian cruxing on s00kr33m (5.13b)
After two weeks of being deprived of a return visit to s00kr33m, my visions of hopping back on my newest obsession sank along with the feeling in my stomach. I was resigned to a day of belaying as I asked Ian what size shoes he wears. When he replied 39 (I wear 42), the sliver of remaining hope eclipsed even further. For the hell of it, I grabbed his shoes and figured I’d see if miracles are true.
With a couple of tugs and wiggles, his Miuras slid on like a glove. I’ve worn lace-up Miuras since my days at the University of Nebraska climbing wall and Ian’s shoes were like a trip down memory lane. It was game on.
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I love being reminded that I have great friends. Although the weekend was far too short, our trip to Moab for the Other Half marathon was reminiscent of a whirlwind Shelf trip from Nebraska when I was a college student. After arriving at our camp site in the Sand Flats at 1 am, we settled [continue reading]
The last two weeks are a blur of climbing, running, weddings and work. Tonight the alacrity continues with many of our crew heading to Moab where several of us will be running the Other Half marathon, an event that has become October tradition. This will be my fourth Moab half marathon. Each has brought sweat, [continue reading]
The heat of summer put much of my Eldo wish list on hold, chasing us to shade and higher altitudes. Now that the 90 degree days have passed, the confounding sandstone on the massive Redgarden Wall is again inviting. Numerous beautiful, historical, heady 5.11s sit rarely touched, awaiting the next challenger. Among these are Le [continue reading]
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