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Climbing the Rainbow

Red Rocks at Dawn


Daybreak 1,000 feet off the Juniper Canyon floor is different, more visceral and opaque, the sun crashing into the massive cliff above us, the stone breathing in the rays, and shouting them back across the horizon in a huge red exhalation. We’re awake, swimming in the rock surrounding us, fractured as it is by the gold red light shimmering off the cliff face above and the shadows cast from the sun rising over Las Vegas. The Original Route on Rainbow Wall looms. View full post »

splitterchoss - Thanks for sharing, sounds like a great experience!April 16, 2013 – 10:59 pm

Chris - What a great day and so much fun to relive it from a different perspective. Your narrative of the experience of being in that place, the demands of the climb, doubts (we all had them at one point or another throughout the day), and triumphs was both lucid and entertaining.

Thanks again, gentlemen, for going along with the plan. It was a privilege to share the summit with you.April 17, 2013 – 12:32 pm

Adam Scheer - Thanks for the awesome story, Tyler. You’ve got a talent to take the reader with you.

It’s great to know that even though you’re in Colorado, Chris is in Nebraska, Patrick is in New Mexico and I’m in California, we can meet in Nevada and it’s like no time has passed.

I echo Chris’s comments. We all had moments of triumph and we all had humbling encounters on this route. I appreciate it all the more for that microcosm of climbing the day represented.April 17, 2013 – 9:14 pm

Ron James Propri - Great post Tyler, you paint beautiful pictures with words. The pictures were cool too. Sounds like a hell of an experience.May 3, 2013 – 10:56 am

Kate - Love it! Sounds like an amazing climb and an awesome day with friends!May 22, 2013 – 12:07 pm

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The Art of Adventure

Though the details have faded I still remember the moment well. The 100 free feet below my feet would mean nothing unless the next foot went clean as well. The perfect flake stared me in the face as I wound up and stabbed. My hand slid off the sandstone, unable to remedy my slight imprecision. At 32 feet per second squared I lost altitude, eventually coming to a stop after a massive whip, spit off of Ultrasaurus one more time.

A fall frozen (Artist: Bob Scheer)

This was my first 5.13 and I was pulling off all the stops. Skipping the crux draw and extending the draw below it were just the first steps in my energy saving necessities. I had also found a way to negotiate a delicate turn around, hunch and sit in an uncomfortable cave to recuperate before launching into the jugs and then the last crux. But this wasn’t exactly a rocking chair. Every inch of me in contact with the rock had to maintain just enough friction to avoid sliding out of the bizarre position. On this attempt I had used the awkward rest not once, but twice, downclimbing the jugs to reinsert my bum in the hueco after clipping the extended precrux draw. This was truly a patient belay.

Tyler captured my defeat in a great shot from the Dinosaur Mountain hillside.

Going for a ride on Ultrasaurus (5.13a). (Photo: Tyler Scheer)

The next attempt later that day I put the route to bed. Since moving to California, I’ve kept the photo by the bathroom mirror. It serves as a daily reminder to go for it. It reminds me that the things in life worth achieving require big efforts – that those first 100 feet actually mean everything, not in spite of, but especially when I fall. It also helps me keep a perspective of risk. Sure, climbing is risky. Just last weekend I pulled on a ticked crimp like I’ve done a thousand times before. This time the bomber Yosemite granite gave way and I pulled off a fistfull of rock that tumbled down the cliff, catching Kris square in the leg. Indeed, climbing is risky.

But to me a bigger risk is not climbing. A bigger risk is having every moment of life locked down by 2.7 kids, 0.6 dogs, and a white picket fence while longing to be terrified on the side of a rock. Right now the biggest risk in my life is falling victim to the expectation that work should be so consuming, so defining of identity, that passions wilt in its shadow.

Last month my uncle, Bob, was in the Bay Area and stayed at my place. We had a great time playing guitar, having a bottle of mead, catching up and making some mean salsa. Bob is a talented guy who follows his heart. He understands the ideas woven into the picture. A couple weeks later a package arrived at my door and I opened it to find his painting of my fall. I love it. What a fantastic gift.

It’s been since those attempts on Ultrasaurus that I’ve really worked on a line. But in the last month I’ve made several trips to Jailhouse, an area known for kneebars, projecting and more kneebars. I’ve been on the sparse non-kneebar tour including a sprint of a climb named Fugitive (5.13a). I feel close, but it’s going to take a really good go.

Conrad taking a spin on Fugitive (5.13a)

I’ve had a blast getting to know the unique Jailhouse crowd – good people and excellent climbers. I’m just trying to keep up.

Jailhouse sunset

But last weekend a break from the massive overhang cliff was in order and Kris and I met in Yosemite for some old school 5.11. I took off from the East Bay in the pitch black and made it to the golden hills of Sonora as the sun crept over the ridgeline. Waves of clouds spread thin parallel to the hillside showcased the nacent day.

Sonora Sunrise

Then it was business time. The 4-sentence description of the Moratorium approach seemed plenty clear until we followed a series of cairns into the abyss. After 2-hours of wandering and wondering (that should have been a chippy 20 minutes) we finally arrived at the base of the beautiful right facing dihedral. The first pitch (5.10+) was my favorite – finger jams, perfect liebacks and the occasional stem mixed with a couple fun face moves and a mantle to end on a nice, big belay ledge. Pitch 2 was less continuous, but included a tougher stemming section up top with strange drop knees and tenuous palming wide. The third pitch was tough, even for Yosemite 5.11. The seam narrowed considerably, protecting well with small nuts and C3s. At the crux I couldn’t even get a knuckle deep. The lieback was made even harder because the feet on the facing wall were pure smears, without so much as a dime edge. The seam seeped a bit and had a variety of greenery growing in places that could have been useful feet and possibly hands/gear. I struggled to lead it.

The reward for the effort was a great view of half dome, which was visible from atop the third pitch, but still hidden by the Valley walls after the second. Kris fared much better on pitch 3 than I and he inspired me to lower and give it another spin on TR. The second burn brought night and day improvement. I found my quads getting tired during the layback from the huge counter pressure I needed to stay on.

Afterward, we enjoyed a couple sport climbs at the base of Schultz’s ridge. The highlight was a fun 5.11 called Dreams of Thailand. It was basically a 4-bolt boulder problem, but well worth the trip.

Then, unfortunately, it rained all night and into Sunday morning. We tried to get in some bouldering, but everything was soaked to the bone. Bummer. At least we got one good day.

A little rain keeps the crowds away

The rain chased away the crowds. Kris and I took advantage and hiked to the base of Yosemite Falls. Devoid of the standard streams of sidewalk adventurers, the scene of a cloud creeping across the falls was a perfect way to end the trip.

Yosemite Empty

zach - Wow, sounds and LOOKS intense! Cool adventures man. Great photo and great painting,…art has a great way of capturing some of the best moments sprinkled throughout our lives!March 7, 2013 – 7:37 am

Kate - Love it- thanks for sharing. Your dedication and ability to just go for things is awesome and inspiring. Hope we can make it out to CA for an adventure with you soon! =)March 7, 2013 – 10:51 am

Kris - Great Post Adam, love the photography. Awesome gift from Bob!March 7, 2013 – 2:27 pm

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The Mental Game

*Editor’s Note: This piece is coauthored by Chris Rolling and Adam Scheer

“The crux of climbing is, in the face of fear and doubt, the ability of your mind to make your body do the things your body is telling you are impossible.” -Ron Safarik

We’ve all felt psyched out on a scary gear route, frustrated by a sport line we couldn’t seem to crack or out of our element on a boulder problem. If we’re open to them, these moments offer the lessons and perspectives that spur improvement. ‘Uncomfortable’ encounters are also where the mental strengths or weaknesses of a climber show brightest.

The Mental Game (Photo: Tyler Scheer)

It might sound surprising that even infamous trad heroes, 5.14 sport climbing gurus, bouldering addicts and intrepid soloists have to overcome the same mental hurdles we face. Indeed the empowering element for these climbers is not that they’ve vanquished every pessimistic internal whisper; it is that they relish – and win – the argument. Their remarkable achievements prove that strides in the mental game can be as important as physical gains. Similarly, no matter how physically capable, mental limitations, in other words, a deficiency in guts, poor choices or general callow trifling can be the major weakness in one’s climbing arsenal.

Here we explore the byzantine mental struggles climbers face and a few strategies to address them. Three aspects of the mental game may seem cliché and obvious but are nonetheless woven into the psyche of any climber: fear, doubt, and motivation. Fear is an intrinsic part of climbing. It’s something we all experience – we’re hardwired to survive – and that’s good. Without fear, karma will dispose of you like a hot fart out the window. But fear must, at the minimum, be managed and ideally be harnessed to achieve the physical potential available to a climber. Similarly, doubt, both overt and covert, has kept many a strong climber from stretching the realm of his or her possibilities. On the other side of the coin is motivation. Finding sources of motivation, both to train and to strive for goals, has a huge impact on all aspects of our climbing.

So how can we efficiently develop the mental game?

As was the case with physical training, the answer is not as straightforward as the question and will be different for every climber. This is why the magazines stay in business. After spending 3 minutes flipping through dramatic climbing photography and exotic locales, we’re sponges ready to hear how to up our game. And don’t despair! It’s guaranteed that someone has devised a new training regimen, meditation program, diet or clever way to dispose of big wall turds. Eventually something will stick. But rarely will you read a piece designed to guide a climber toward the more enigmatic, ethereal and ultimately empowering process of self assessment that will actually help a climber zero in on weaknesses.

A good place to start is, once again, by identifying goals. You could be looking to take that next small but intimidating step in your specialty. You could be a gym rat ready to experience real rock. Maybe you’re a boulderer psyched to engage more vertical terrain or a sport climber wanting to step into the next dimension of gear. You might be an alpinist desiring to trade in your pig for a crash pad. In each case, a different set of mental challenges will accompany the physical tests. Or maybe you’re just tired of yelling “Take!!!” two feet above your last pro where the nightmarish visions of Aunt Jemima shortages become crippling.

Though many physical limitations can be addressed well in the gym, often we must face our mental battles at their source: outside. However, the gym can still prove to be a valuable testing ground so we begin there with one simple rule: Until comfortable taking falls, never say “take” in the gym. Even experienced climbers may need to build up to this philosophy and periodically return to it throughout their careers.

Falling is part of climbing. The sooner this fact is digested, the sooner we can move on to more appealing subjects, like blueberry pancakes drenched in a surplus of steaming Aunt Jemima. And if not comfortable taking a gym whip, forget about pushing limits outdoors. So if starting from scratch or wanting to hit the reset button on your mental game the first, bare minimum, step we see is developing an immunity to falling indoors.

Curtis whipping big on Nemo 5.13b; El Potrero Mexico (Photo: Chaz Ott)

There are ways to practice falling. Many climbers recommend taking progressively longer and longer falls on purpose until they are over the fear of being above their last clip. This is a good idea. But we’d suggest something a little more primal.

1. Lead everything. If you can’t go clip to clip on a gym route, save the belayer a roped bouldering session. Many gyms have unfortunate areas in which leading is off limits. In that case, make a point of sticking to the lead walls.

2. The word “take” is off limits. In other words, the rope is there only to catch you, not to enable timidity.

3. If you get a route clean, clip the anchors, but agree with your belayer that you won’t be taken tight before lowering. This will force you to trust the system. If you don’t truly believe the rope will catch you then why are you 50 feet above the ground in the first place? Get used to letting go without tension.

So far these exercises are designed to dispose of fear like you used to do with your messy drawers between routes. The next point is all about overcoming doubt.

4. Once comfortable with the first three points, it’s important to go for moves instead of just letting go. This includes when we’re pumped beyond belief and know there is no chance of sticking it. This philosophy will come in handy when working on harder lines as it forces you to progress as far as possible and will often result in a new high point from which to work. This can be the hardest step because you really have to push against your pissed off survival instinct.

5. Finally, it goes without saying to not grab draws, holds on other routes or the hairy ankles of the neighboring climber. Just fall. Falling is part of the deal. Once again, the sooner a climber come to terms with that, the better.

The gym provides a relatively controlled environment that allows us to not only be comfortable with falling, but also a venue to learn how to fall. This skill is a big step towards developing that cozy relationship with the idea of lobbing yourself into air.

In rare cases, even in the gym it is wise to not take a fall. On a poorly set route, you may whip into another wall or have a big hold below your feet looking to rack you. Especially at crowded gyms, other climbers may encroach into your fall path. But these are the strange exceptions.

Outside, there may be a ledge or big runout looming below. Gear isn’t always bomber or available exactly where you want. Your belayer may get attacked by an ant riding a mouse riding a shark riding an elephant when you’re mid-crux. Climbing is inherently risky and it’s up to you to determine a tolerance. Semantically the difference between actual and perceived danger is clear, but outside, the vast grey area in between dominates.

Chris’s first trip to Yosemite became a unique learning experience because he came to understand what it meant to be runout and to perform under that stress. Any trad climber will eventually face definitive moments those first few times above their gear. The internal conversation either ends in downclimbing, handing off the lead and buying the beer or trusting in one’s ability to execute the sequences and pressing on. Experience, focus, and clear thinking are important, but in the end it is simply a decision. You trust your belayer. You trust your gear, You trust yourself. You accept the risk and keep moving. Or, you don’t.

Ian leading Eldo's classic Scarry Canary 5.12 (Photo: Rob Kepley)

This notion is as relevant to sport climbing as it is to trad climbing, highball bouldering, or (yes) even gym climbing. There is a moment where you are either self-aware, confident and move on or none of these things and back off. In these situations, recognizing the difference between rational fear keeping you alive and irrational fear that just keeps you from your goals is paramount. Sometimes the best decision is indeed to back off. But a climber who never pushes that line in the sand will be more prone to plateaus and slower development.

Now imagine yourself at the base of a boulder problem that is your anti-style. The moves are big (or small or involve pinkie gastons, nose hooks or whatever) and you’ve never been good at them. Not wanting to ruin the mojo of your group, you strap on your shoes, chalk up, and try the first few moves only to, predictably, fall. The next thought is, “There’s no way.” You become an insecure color commentator for a while before realizing nobody’s listening and saunter off to Denny’s to bury your face in a fluffy tall stack of buckwheat blueberry pancakes dripping with Aunt Jemima while your friends have fun.

Now picture yourself saddling up for the redpoint send on your super mega ultra proj. You’ve rehearsed the moves a dozen times, especially that pesky deadpoint crux where you’ve fallen so many times. Despite fatigue, you launch into the route for the day’s last burn. The first half goes well, but somewhere in the home stretch, you start to feel the effects of the previous attempts. Lactic acid builds along with that insidious doubt. You press on and to your surprise make it to the deadpoint clean. You get a good shake and go, but, alas, find yourself screaming like a banshee Ondra style at the end of the rope…again…feeling like you could have done it.

These two hypotheticals illustrate central aspects of the mental game that can have a dramatic effect on your climbing.

The first story illustrates the flaccid, conscious outlook that you are unable to do the climb. There’s no secret to addressing this, other than recognizing its presence and changing your poopy pants attitude. It’s really as simple as saying and believing the words “I can” instead of “I can’t.” It’s a distinct decision with huge benefits and will make a climber more fun to be around than the mopey bag of old excuses and glory days tails parading around in zebra-striped spandex. Hard boulder problems or climbs are a great way to stretch your limits, or to even conceive of what it takes to reach that next level. You’ll learn more about your strengths and weaknesses by working on something a bit over your head than by cruising up another line in your comfort zone. Laying the groundwork on a problem then coming back stronger is a great way to truly gauge improvement.

The second story illuminates the doubt that develops after repeated failure coincident with projecting routes. It’s the subconscious expectation to fall, because that’s what happened so many times before. This type of doubt is a stealthy emotion cloaked in rationality. Whether its climbing or daily life, it has a way of sneaking up and sabotaging your most well-intentioned efforts.

You can chose to ignore such internal detractors or you can change your expectation. Both are viable tactics. The ‘ignorance is bliss’ strategy basically amounts to training your mind to slip into “the zone” the second you pull on route. We’ve all felt that instant where everything clicks and movement feels effortless. In these elusive moments you stop trying to control the environment, let go, and allow your body to execute what your sessions on the route have wired it to do.

Amy topping out her lifetime proj at Horsetooth Reservoir (Photo: Eli Powell)

Accept that you can’t control whether you finish the route anymore than you can usher the demise of reality TV. Stop focusing on finishing the pitch and turn your attention to the important stuff like maintaining steady breathing, a tight core, precise footwork and efficient movement. When you get to that hypothetical deadpoint, premature thoughts of sending become machinations of the climbing gods conspiring against you. Impatience with the on-route process will inevitably yield a sloppy effort. To combat this, one must keep the conscious mind busy and productive so the subconscious and muscle memory take over. Again, a focus on finishing the pitch can be a harmful distraction. How many times have you been preoccupied by what lies ahead only to botch an easier sequence and waste a bunch of precious energy? The dominating thoughts should be on movement, position, the holds and if you find yourself clean at the anchor, or pulling over the lip, all the better.

The other method of overcoming subconscious doubt is to reprogram your perception of the climb. This can be done by visualization and memory. Picture yourself on the route, succeeding – but not just succeeding – imagine climbing the route in pornographic detail. Feel the holds, hear yourself breathing, imagine the pump and then shaking it out, concentrate on the ease of the movement, efficiency, the feeling of clipping the chains with plenty in the tank. Rinse and repeat. The goal is to turn the subconscious in your favor by tricking it to expect success like a cat presumes breakfast after sitting on your face at 5 am sharp every morning. Visualization is a technique applicable to all disciplines of the sport. If you’re onsighting an intense trad line, imagine placing a piece of good gear, trusting it and then fully committing to the next sequence. Create the expectation that you’re going to have to pull hard above gear rather than being surprised if that happens.

On route or pre climb tactics aside, perhaps nothing is more determinate of success or failure than motivation. To even begin your journey through climbing, or anything for that matter, there needs to be a foundation that compels you to perform. And in climbing it’s only after you’ve made this hurdle that you are challenged in more inspirational ways. Furthermore, that foundation needs to remain strong throughout the life of a climber so one can build the physical and mental structures on top.

Motivation connects, once again, to self assessment and defining goals. We all climb for different reasons. Some enjoy the physical challenge, others the adventure and relationship with nature, some the camaraderie, and still others the meditation discovered by being pushed to the limit. Regardless of why you climb, it’s important to be honest with yourself and allow your goals to guide decisions. Make sure your actual climbing is consistent with why you climb in the first place. And be sure to check in on yourself periodically, especially during those times when you feel plateaued and all of this sage advice is losing is freshness.

Blueberry pancakes drenched in a sea of Aunt Jemima (Photo: God)

Now you’ve assessed why you climb and are highly motivated. Well congratulations. Enjoy the clarified sense of determination like a tasty pile of steaming blueberry pancakes soaked in Aunt Jemima. The minute you feel a dragging weight of responsibility, obligation or too much pressure, change it up. Put your project on pause. Do some noncommittal sport climbing instead of an epic alpine adventure. Dust off your bouldering pad and leave your harness at home. Whatever it may be, reconnect with the pure fun of the sport and be reminded that we are lucky to experience it.

Not only can having a strong mental game make the difference between sending and taking or between composure and panic, it can be the determining factor in having fun. If climbing never scares or intimidates you, makes you feel fragile in the battle against gravity or inspires you to rise to a challenge, you are missing the soul of the sport. It is how you anticipate these moments and prepare for them that can ultimately define your place in the world of climbing…like a crown blueberry stuck in an ocean of Aunt Jemima atop a fat stack of pancakes.

Finally, we’d love to hear your thoughts on the mental aspects of the sport. Leave a comment below and share what has worked for you, what you struggle with or what inspires.

For part I of this series, check out Making The Grade.

Emily Kildawg - Thoughts in my head during a typical day of nursing school: “I need to quit climbing, yeah, just quit climbing. Then I will stop dilly-dallying at the UNL climbing wall and study. I am going to quit because nursing school is “so overwhelming” that I can’t possibly think of anything else especially something fun like climbing.” Then I check my e-mail and find Climbing House posted The Mental Game and I remember why I will never quit climbing. Thank you!!!!
The UNL climbing comp. is this Saturday and I find myself nervous thinking about clipping bolts. I am not even sure if there are other girls competing in my category so I could be up against myself again. I love leading, I like falling; I dread that moment before I detach from the rock. Flashes of my body getting tangled in the rope race through my mind. I usually scream some high-pitched shit before I even let go. I do know that I am an analytical climber who tends to stall through a section of a route failing to look for key rest spots.
The main point I have realized is my clipping problem. When I go to clip I feel like everything goes in slow motion. It’s almost like I feel the need to move extra delicately and push the rope ever so tenderly into the biner as if I would blow my feet if I moved my arm a little faster. I assume I just need to quickly and efficiently snap that baby in there, but for some reason when I pull the slack and grab the biner, my whole body says, “No, Emily you aren’t going to make that clip, you little weakling.” It all boils down to the fear of falling. Climbing House, what is your advice? :)

Your little Nebraska climbing friend,

ekilzFebruary 18, 2013 – 9:19 pm

Adam Scheer - Dear Emily,

Good luck at the comp!

The UNL wall often has thin vertical routes that can make for tenuous clips. As with anything, practice will help. Keep leading routes that push you, keep taking falls and hopefully you’ll even blow a clip every now and then. You’ll scream, live and laugh about it later. Eventually, you’ll get used to tough clips, better at actually making the clips and comfortable with the notion that even if you do blow a clip you’ll be fine.

Make sure to consume lots of bacon as it will make the skin glow. A healthy leech bath twice per month will keep the cellulite away and don’t forget to rub lemons on your face to lighten the freckles.

Your redheaded Cali counterpart

aschilzFebruary 20, 2013 – 9:33 pm

Sara Konecky - Great post! To touch on the the point about reprogramming your perception of a climb – you can also reprogram your perception of what trying hard really means. When I was working a project this past weekend, my friend Jesse would say “Ok, try hard!” I thought, well yes, this is obvious – try hard. But, watching him climb brings “trying hard” to a new level. He doesn’t waste go’s with any half ass tries! You’ll probably meet him in one of our upcoming trips!February 21, 2013 – 2:21 am

Sara Konecky - Also – Adam, yes, that was my first V6. I was overdue, I think. If you didn’t listen to the audio, listen to what I’m saying while climbing (I was sure I was going to fall the whole time) I think Kris tells me not to fall, so I didn’t. Funny how much falling is a conscious decision and not simply ability. It wasn’t pretty, but a send is a send!February 21, 2013 – 2:26 am

Adam Scheer - Thanks, Sara. I’ll have to try your secret. Next time I’m struggling on a boulder problem, yell “ADAM, DON’T FALL!!!” That should ensure a send.

That video is a great example of the ideas Chris and I wanted to touch on here. I wonder if you could post it in the comments? In your own mind, you were ready to fall but Kris’s ‘encouraging’ spot kept you dialed in. It goes to show what your true capabilities are if your mind’s in the right place. Awesome.

First V6! Congrats.

~AdamFebruary 21, 2013 – 5:28 pm

Curt MacNeill - Well written Adam! I believe that our minds limit us in climbing much more than our physical abilities. I believe everyone can climb at a much higher level, with a little bit of dedication, hard work, motivation and mental strength. Believing in yourself is half the battle. Its the law of attraction. If you constantly say “I can”, eventually “you will”…February 22, 2013 – 3:47 pm

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Project Fun

My long list of California climbing goals just got a lot longer.

Even though he was coming off an illness and had barely eaten in days, led by Luke’s enthusiasm, five of us packed into a Subaru and daytripped to Jailhouse.

Luke knocking out a fresh send on a bruly 5.12, Chain Gang.

In my ignorance I had always thought of Jailhouse as somewhat of a specialized oddity – super overhung, blocky sport climbing full of crazy kneebars, my anti-style. In fact, that description is exactly correct, but what surprised me is how much fun it was and how much better prepared I was for the area than I would have thought.

James lowering off of one of the more low-angle Jailhouse routes

I was also surprised by how massive the continuous cliff band is and by the stunning landscape.

Entering Jailhouse

Looking at the area guidebook, in which 40 routes are crammed into one picture, can easily leave the impression that Jailhouse is a grid bolted product of bored regulars searching for something new. When you’re there, it doesn’t take long to discover the lines are independent, really high quality and well-bolted. Some routes even run an entire rope out to the lip of the cliff creating monster 5.13s and 5.14s.

Luke rockin' the pads.

I got the (mostly) non-kneebar tour of routes that were super steep but not nearly as severe as the wall’s middle section.

Climbing in a sea of overhang

We started on the two 5.11+ warmups and moved on to the 5.12 circuit. I knocked out Whipping Boy (5.12b) without too much struggle and that gave me some confidence to try incrementally harder lines. Next was Supreme Being (5.12c). On my onsight attempt I had no chance at the first crux. After flailing for a few more attempts, tail between my legs, I got the thorough spraydown from Luke, the beta reservoir. I pulled back on and followed the step by step instructions like I was making Hamburger Helper. The trickery worked flawlessly and I pulled through with surprising ease. The situation was repeated at the second crux and once again a beta shower got me through. On my second go I sent and learned the first lesson of Jailhouse – there is a right way and often only one right way to do a sequence. Asking for beta is a good way to save yourself too much hangdogging and inefficiency.

Ginny working her 5.13 project

James, Sarah and Neil all took spins on the pumpy lines and it was good getting to know some new friends between venturing back to the awesome basalt.

With two successes in my pocket I was fading but wanted to test my mettle on something a little harder. The “slam dunk” dyno on the neighboring 5.12d, Insecurity, sounded inviting and I hopped on. I wound up, launched and latched, my feet cutting in the process. Fun! I misfired to the hidden crimp at the second crux or I may have flashed the line. I tried again after a rest and made it through the slam dunk and the crimp only to pump out on the moves that followed, too tired from the full day but really encouraged. Jailhouse is a perfect place for the intersection of my climbing right now. For the last month, I’ve gotten back on the ropes at the gym and am regaining that elusive endurance. I’m feeling the last 6 months of primarily bouldering paying off with the increased power sticking around. I’m optimistic about the coming season.

Now I need to learn how to kneebar or my future Jailhouse experiences will be laughable…Thanks to Luke, James, Sarah and Neil for the invitation and an awesome day! Something tells me I’ll be back soon.

A field of green leading talus to the crag

Finally, Jailhouse is a prime example of the important work the Access fund does to protect our valuable climbing areas. For many years, climbers visited Jailhouse under a cloud of uncertainty. The private land owners could lower the hammer at anytime and close the cliff forever. Because of that, word spread about the location only by whispers. The stout style and pure difficulty of literally every route there dissuades the crowds, but without the easement brokered between the Access Fund and the gracious land owners, the core Bay Area sport climbers could have had their gem buried. If you ever visit Jailhouse, make sure to respect the area, because without you asking, a great deal of work has been done on your behalf.

The Secret is Out: Jailhouse Open Access from Access Fund on Vimeo.

To become a member of the Access Fund, visit their website here or on the “Neighbors” tab on the left side of this page.

Tyler - Keep up the crushing! That place looks sweet.February 1, 2013 – 12:51 am

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Back to the Buttermilks

Sometimes it’s easy to think about how pointless climbing is – how in both the grand scheme and in individual moments we risk precarious battle against gravity only to arrive back where we started, no worse for wear but wearing worse our sunburned wrinkles.

In Bishop you will not think those things.

Gabe sticking the big move before the lip on Xavier's Roof (V11)

Though the trip from the Bay Area is long, the vast and wandering California landscape never fails to keep the mind occupied.

An eastern California basin filled with a lake of cloud

Winding our way south through desolate valleys and sharp passes, we came to the edge of a colossal basin, filled to the brim with a heavy cloud. The scene felt as though one could walk to the edge, ladle in hand and dip into a divine, icy elixir.

After stopping to take in the a once-in-a lifetime sight, we moved on, descending right into the tool fog of the cloud on our way to the Buttermilks.

The main Buttermilk area is a speckled maze of massive warped granite spheres. These plump boulders keep watch over a naked desert meadow. A snow striped Sierra backdrop never escapes the corner of your eye. Aside from the feeling of walking into an artist’s creation when setting foot on the crunchy trail, the convocation of granite Bishops planted there by the Rock Gods yields a collection of sculpted problems that keep the congregation of boulderers content.

After shaking the car ride cobwebs and waking our muscles on some perfect warm ups we wasted no time getting right to business.

Gabe warmimg up on one of the most classic V4s you'll ever find: Ironman Traverse

Our first stop was Junior Achievement, a true crimpfest culminating in a stab at a deep detached flake.

Crimp style on Junior Achievement (V8)

I could feel a new layer of my spoiled skin getting shredded on every attempt. But I was close and stuck with it until I nailed down a truly desperate send.

Gabe said it best regarding Junior Achievement, “You’ve got to pay for that one.” Without fresh pads, the problem would have probably been too painful to fully commit to the sharp pulls.

We then cruised over to Soul Slinger, a tension and body position test piece involving desperate rounded friction pinches on a blunt arete and a minuscule key left hand crimp. Gabe has been working the problem for a year and gave it a good cleaning with the most sophisticated brush tool I’ve ever seen. Don’t tell him, but I’m planning on stealing the idea and selling mass produced brush/blow kits.

Prepping Soul Slinger (V9) for the send. Genius.

In exciting fashion, Gabe put the problem to bed for a seriously proud send and day 1 was in the books. A fast start.

On day 2 we left the beaten path for Dale’s Camp, another set of incredible Buttermilk boulders that sat in a field of crusty snow.

Stream crossing on the trek to Dale's Camp

We started with a visit to Xavier’s Roof (V11).

Entering the crux of Xavier's Roof

The tough problem was described to me as the best V8 in Bishop followed by an incredibly hard top out. I had a great time working the line to the last couple moves and gave the crux a couple burns before deciding to save some energy for problems more in my reach.

Gabe crossing through on the lower half of Xavier's Roof

After touring a few other tough problems, we ended at Solitaire. The V8 boils down to 2 huge left hand throws on good ledges. The problem was definitely not my style, especially after two days of climbing hard, but provided some quality fun.

Dinner was in order and Uncle Bob’s famous salsa, guacamole and a bottle of mead put us into insta-coma for the night.

Ryan throwing for the top on Solitaire (V8)

In November I left Flyboy (V8) blistered, sore, depleted and unsent. After numerous attempts using a set of beta that played to my weaknesses, I had discovered a path that eliminated the need for a giant right-hand chuck to the lip, instead utilizing a small crimp, repositioning and finishing with a left-hand toss. I knew exactly what to do, but fatigue won the day. I’ve been dreaming of a return trip since and we made the short hike first thing on day 3. After a brief warm up, we threw down our pads, I tossed on my shoes, thought through the moves, dusted my tips with chalk and fired it off first go.

Catching the top crimp on Flyboy Sit (V8)

The rest of the day was pure bonus and we celebrated an awesome trip with a flask of whiskey. Gabe wasn’t sure what kind, but he assured me it wasn’t Evan Williams – a bit disappointing but I managed.

Gabriel loves the Buttermilks like I was addicted to Eldo in my Boulder days. He knows the area very well, climbs hard and has fun. Send or no send he’s always smiling and sharing a laugh. It was great getting to know him and a bunch of his friends during the long weekend. I’m lucky to have friends willing to give me the tour of their favorite areas. It’s always better to experience a new destination with someone who’s genuinely enthusiastic about the place and appreciative of how lucky we are to climb. Hopefully a return to the Buttermilks is in the cards soon!

Ron James Propri - Great post, Adam. Looks like a place I would love to play in!January 23, 2013 – 9:41 am

kris - Looks like an awesome trip – notwithstanding the lack of Mr. Evan William’s warm, if slightly antagonistic, fermented mash. A nice showcase of some problems I haven’t had the pleasure of examining yet. That shot of the clouds was sublime.January 23, 2013 – 4:56 pm

Fred - Great report and beautiful pictures!January 25, 2013 – 5:50 pm

Adam Scheer - Thanks for the feedback! I’m glad people liked this post. I always appreciate the conversation.January 25, 2013 – 9:00 pm

Tyler - Dang… that stuff looks tough. Nice work, and great photos and writupJanuary 26, 2013 – 1:42 pm

kris - I forgot to add how much I enjoyed the writing – particularly in the opening paragraphs. Great storytelling, Adam.January 28, 2013 – 11:23 am

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January Slopers

When somebody from Iceland asks if you want to go bouldering in the shade on a day with highs in the mid 40s, the correct answer is yes. Though more than a few excuses came to mind when Arnór (nickname Addi) floated the idea of a session at misty Castle Rock, the pull of actual stone outweighed any apprehension I had about my poor frozen toes. Escaping couch gravity for a day outside is almost always a good idea.

So close but so far away. So really, so far away. Static Reach (V8).

Castle Rock offers exactly the kind of climbing that makes me look like a soft, flabby noob with lunch lady arms. Giant slopers, friction heel hooks, compression – short, stout problems. I need practice.

The Castle Rock forest.

The redeeming thing about cold weather is excellent friction. We spent the first part of the day at a fun and committing V5, one of the few tall lines at Castle. We then visited Static Reach (V8), a maddening slap problem over a bulge that feels impossible. Every time you fall, it’s directly on your side or back. After a while I was tired of getting beat up and was happy to let Addi try to work through the beta.

Addi scoping out his options on Static Reach.

I’d been to Castle Rock twice before, but this was the first time primarily bouldering instead of roped climbing. The locals look at you a little funny if you head there to climb. Though there are some decent sport routes, and even a few trad lines, the high quality lines are almost all boulder problems.

Soft sandstone crimp

The green and brown forest landscape dotted with spots of sun solving the canopy maze also makes Castle Rock a great place for hiking and getting out of the Bay Area pavement jungle. It’s nice to have something fun nearby for a day trip.

Every exposed surface is a green magnet at Castle Rock, including the trees

Thanks to Addi for an awesome day. It looks like I only have frostbite on my pinkie toes. They’re worthless anyway. A respite from crowded chalk clouds surrounding plastic for a day was well worth it.

Finally, for some quality laughs, meet Juanitas, my next door neighbor and new bestie. These days she’s clocking in around 10 kgs (that’s 570 in cat pounds). As you’ll see, she loves a good back scratch – pure ecstasy:

Tyler - That place looks very… medieval. And that cat is ridiculous.January 26, 2013 – 1:45 pm

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