White Thumb

I can't shake the feeling that I came into climbing in the wrong generation -- all the low hanging fruit has been plucked, coddled, and juiced. I want to explore! People say that we're now in a prime place in climbing history with modern techniques and gear opening up new amazing FA possibilities, and it's true. New routes these days blow my mind. But all that still falls into the elite category. If you look at the rates of growth of techniques, gear, and FA completion, I would propose that there was a knee in the curve when techniques became fairly modern but a lot of rock remained unexplored. It might be interesting to try to put some numbers to my harebrained proposal; in the mean time, my real point remains: new challenges are just fun!

The Sandias are full of unclimbed rock, linkup options, hardman potential, and training opportunities. When the first cold, snowy day hit us this winter (Dec 3, 2011), Micah and I sniffed the curious alpine fruit -- a snowy rock climb to whet our ambitions for AK 2012! (Note: I'm not suggesting this was the first snow climb of the route, no doubt it's been done.)

Excited for the unknown?

We would hit the NW ridge of the Thumb (III 5.5), a route I'd done in a few configurations already - with rope, without, etc. It'd be a perfect avenue to scratch up with crampons and a tool. And it was a blast!

Starting up easy ground.

It was a treat being completely alone in the canyon!

We roped up about 1/3 of the way up, where the sidewalk ends.

Alpine Starts and Classic Climbs

...Just not in the same place.

That's the magic of the Front Range. Too much ice on the route? Retreat to Eldo. Heavy rain? Down to Eldo. Numb toes? Eldo. High winds? Eldo. Tired? Eldo.

No wonder there are so many accidents there.

On the menu were Pervertical Santuary (IV 5.11a), Syke's Sickle (III 5.9+), The Barb (III 5.10-), and Directissima (III 5.10b). Pervertical had us excited for its hard climbing and prime setting. Syke's won over our aesthetic sense with its direct line up the center of a gorgeous piece of rock, but it left some technical challenge to be desired. With The Barb next door on the same piece of rock representing a classic 5.10, maybe we could ride perfect weather into a link-up. Directissima would be a shorter day option and offer a foray into wide crack climbing. Thus, objectives were formed.

Micah topping out Yellow Spur on its immaculate knife edge

Weather and success would dictate our selections. For Saturday, with a marginal forecast (30-40% chance of precipitation), we would try the least committing: Syke's with The Barb link-up option if time permitted and weather cleared. We made this decision on Friday after my intro to Eldorado Canyon, first the mega-classic Yellow Spur (5.9 6 pitches) and then a bonus, Calypso/Raggae (5.6/5.8, 2 pitches). I took the 5.10 variations on P1 and P5 on YS (the first one I recommend, second one I don't) and smiled widely with the excellent climbing and abundant stopper placements. In preparation for an early start, we left Eldo by 6pm for RMNP. A few campground shinanigans later we were racked and inflating pads.

Define classic.

While Dan and Alex were on hard, high-quality projects at the Gunks, I was busy climbing the worst route I've ever been on: the Southwest Ridge of the Needle (IV 5.8). It's a wonderfully long route (1300 feet of ascent, 13 hrs car to car) in a commanding position, but the quality of the movement and rock are mostly crap. I cursed a lot while trying to navigate such a sea of choss, as did my partner. He said a few things along the way that capture the essence:

"If this doesn't go we're bailing." [during a mid-route block wall circumnavigation]
"That was the best part of the route. And it's not even on route." [regarding a pitch variation]
"This route ****ing sucks."

As I log the climb in Mountain Project, I scratch my head at its classic status. Oh well, chalk it up to training. At least we had a long day out.


Last pitch variation, 5.9 210':
Begin as for the normal last pitch: move off the grassy house-sized ledge through the blocky section of bizarre rock, clipping a pin. After slinging the tree, stay right at the major split (standard route goes up the left gully with pins). Gain the big, lower angle, right-facing corner. Work up the corner, keeping your eyes open for a tree 80' above and left, outside the corner system (can just see the top of it) - it will be your anchor. After maybe 40' in the corner, make an airy step left across the left wall to get out of the corner and onto the face, ending up under a steep groove. Go up the groove, top out of the steeps and move up the final 15' in the dirt gully to the tree. Protection is pretty good (a little spicy at the top) and rock is slightly above average for the route. Call it Redemption after the 1000' of variable garbage you climbed to get there.

Stitch Lab: Chalk Bag

Why are chalk bags so luxurious these days? We strive to be hardmen, yet we dip our hands into a cushy fleece liner as if it's our childhood blankie. Every chalk bag I've seen is full-featured -- nice for everyday use but inexcusable overkill for the weight conscious.

Thus, the Alpine Chalk Sack.


The concept is a bare bones farm tractor of a chalk vehicle -- no draw string, no liner, a subtle stiffener, and an overall compact size. I whipped this bad boy up this morning as a very rough prototype. The main body is a simple cylinder, 6.5 inches tall by 4 across, with a roundish bottom. The fabric is old boxers, the stiffener is a double layer of old boxers, and the belt attachment points are from an old backpack strap. The five pieces are held together with light poly thread; the main body uses welt seams and the belt attachments use a bar tack style stitch (forward, back, then zig-zag). Shortcomings are numerous and obvious: the fabric breathes a lot of chalk, the stiffener is insufficient (I climbed this afternoon with it and fumbled to find the opening), I did almost no measuring or planning for the size and shape, and I'm not very good at sewing.


What's next?

• Material. I'm thinking sil nylon for it's simple durability, light weight, and impermeability. There may be, however, practicality in having the inner surface uncoated to allow a layer of chalk to impregnate, to aid in chalking up.
• Shape. This one is close. A tapered cylinder, wider at top, may be more useable and reduce excess material at the bottom. A shorter body may make the chalk feel more accessible.
• Stiffener. A wrap of nylon webbing would surely be closer to ideal, and the detail of how to finish the rim will affect durability (a minor consideration).
• Sewing technique. The round bottom was very difficult to sew and it came out poorly. The rest of the seams are better but still not good enough. Also, I'm still having consistency issues with the zig-zag stitch. Basically, I need skills.
• Details. Thread choice, machine settings, seam choice, reinforcements, and assembly order.
• Excursions. Add a draw string and you have a stuff sack with a solid clipping point.

And, if it proves useless for chalk, it will still find some other purpose in my alpine kit.

Backyard Friction

My first Sandias climb of the season was in February. I took a fall wearing boots on 5.6 terrain when my foot unexpectedly popped (it was clean). Today, the stellar crux pitch of Mountain Momma (III 5.10c) is behind me and I'm breathing easy. In rock shoes, I understood friction properly and employed physics well.

In the mountains, with light and fast as the creed, I tend to slide down the scale to light and slow. That's never a good thing, but today I don't mind it. Today I find myself ignoring my watch. At belays I stare idly across the canyon at The Thumb, and try to keep my eye trained on swallows as they swoop the wall in and out of nest (I think one flew into the upper crux crack with Micah just below). I want the granite to inflate to the size of the day and displace everything else. We often scheme tactics to compress a big objective into a day, so why not stretch a small one to the same end?

At the top we banter on cruxes while looking down on the city. We feel lucky but valid in our position; we also feel sorry for the people driving the matchbox cars on the distant roads, knowing full well that tomorrow will have us equally trapped. Were it not for this craggy hill outside of town, Albuquerque would be just barely tolerable. But we do have the foothills and the crest and the option of projecting hard trad after work, and I can run off for a quiet and contrived mission when I hanker. The Sandias may well be the dirty old cowboy bar of the alpine world -- a brawl is always an option if you're asking, or tuck yourself in the corner and no one will bother you.

I can't identify my house, but what's the difference from up here? Our position on the Torreon has done its job as a filter, stripping away so much of our culture to yield a simple existence, at least for a while. On Monday I will stare out my office window and the mountains will appear as a TV image. I'll be working towards an end I'll never see nor feel, which started in a place I will never really understand. Contrarily, I understand each step I took today as elements of scree and sticks and soil, and I can almost hear the ring of pins being pounded in 1977. Tomorrow, I will be thankful for the cuts on my knuckles.

Strangers on a Bight

Email reply, August 30, 2010.

Andrew
Interesting timing with your partner bailing. My partner just bailed on me this afternoon for South Platte or Lumpy Ridge for the weekend. Still interested in the Diamond? I've been eying it up for a few years but haven't been. The Diamond might be tall proposition for having never met but we can talk. We could at least think about Lumpy. Which route on the Diamond, the casual?

I'm out of town for the week, returning Friday afternoon. What was your plan for heading to CO? Give me a call sometime.
Dave

Andy and I made acquaintance at the Denver airport Friday evening and went on to climb the Casual Route Saturday, September 4. Here, Andy moves into the crux. Sometimes two bails do make a send!

The Hulk preview video

Dan and I on Positive Vibrations of the Incredible Hulk, September 15, 2009 (somehow the introductory text was stripped on export). We were an inch away from leaving the Hulk without an attempt, but we finally decided an effort like this was exactly why we were there and completed what I would call the finest route I've been on. It was an ambitious step, however, and our style suffered -- I downclimbed and hung at the crux, and our performance deteriorated from there. Regardless, we had a new alpine 5.11 wind at our backs that would push us to the next big reach.

Welcome to New Mexico

Fresh in NM with no partner, my first destination was the local boulder pile in the foothills. I was alone, off balance from just having moved across the country and longing for the wild alpine that felt like home a year prior.

Finding my trad legs

Gunks, 2007. I was thrust into the lead position for the whole weekend, a first for me, and learned a thing or two about 5.6 stress on High E and Moonlight. Thanks to Trevor for the production and a very memorable trip!