NRG - Area 51- Replicant

Alex and I returned to the New River Gorge last weekend, this time attached to a crew of five experienced and talented climbers from the DC area.  We arrived at the crag, Area 51, Saturday morning, and proceeded to dispatch more hard climbs than I've witnessed being climbed in such a short period.  The company both daunted and inspired me.

There was one climb I thought stood above the rest.  It was a perfect dihedral perched upon a massive overhang--a line called Replicant.  The route caught Andre's eye too, and he went for it without delay.  Past a thin and crumbly start, large whipper potential at the roof, and well into the smooth corner and tips crack crux, Andre took a fall.  Undetterred, he finished the line, rested, then quickly red pointed.

The leftward traverse to gain the hanging corner looked dicey. Your last protection is well behind, and below you, and the thirty foot ride would have you swinging backwards, uncomfortably close to the rock.  But having watched Andre, and ruminating on it, I thought I just might be able to piece it together.

I climbed in a state of total focus, and stole every possible stance where I could regain strength.  Safely beyond the roof, I entered the crux dihedral, but I couldn't get my finger tips to dig into the pencil-width crack.  I edged on that damning feedback loop where you pull harder on the muscles that are losing feeling, but then eased my grip, and transferred weight to my feet.  The stream of blood in my forearms trickled back to life.  I'd have but a moment once my forearms recovered to finish the section before my toes gave out.  I leaned to the right on my finger tips, stepped up, and smeared hard on the left wall with my right foot, then the left.  Jamming my right shoulder into the wall, I stabilized, removed both hands from the crack, reset them higher, and pulled to a bridged stance.  Gradually the crack opened to accept more of my hand.  Gradually it dawned on me that I would pull this off.  What a great feeling.

Here's a photosynth with the photos I took of Andre's on-sight go.  It captures the first half of the climb up to the roof.


 

Summit of Campanile Eslevano, Frey, Argentina '08

A friend showed me Photosynth this weekend.  It stitches photos into a 3 dimensional collage.  This is a test with some shots I took on a trip four years ago.  It's from the summit of Campanile Eslevano in the Frey climbing area, which is just outside of Bariloche.  We'd just climbed a spectacular 5 pitch 5.10 called Imaginate.

This One's For the Bobcat

I found myself more centered last weekend at the New River Gorge than I was on my prior outing.  I was rested, and not so thirsting for beer as I am sometimes at the end of the week.  I felt simply glad to climb--not overly eager, and fretting over details.  This would be a good weekend.

Saturday morning at Endless Wall, Alex won our customary rock flip and started us on Discombobulated.  Apart from fingery holds at the second and third bolt, the difficulties were punctuated enough for the route to serve as a decent warm up.

Next came Aesthetica.  I was pleased with my flow, and lack of hesitation on the aesthetic long moves, but it wasn't enough to win the onsight.  I took a fall at the crux.  Then, high stepping to a two-finger pocket, I skipped the big hueco out left, and climbed the second half to the chains.  Alex flashed the route.

Winning the second rock flip, for Mig Squadron, Alex racked and hiked the starting layback flake to a good stance preceding a blank traverse.  He inspected the diminutive holds, committed, toes smedging on glints in the sandstone, but ultimately fell in a slight pendulum.  Second try, he negotiated the thin part to an awkward stance, high stepped, and gained a moderate dihedral to the finish.  Informed by Alex's ascent, I cruised the route.  How great to cruise 11a on gear.  The training must be working.

DC Tribute: Earth Treks Rockville

Climbers are keenly aware of the best places to live to support their life style.  There's Boulder in Colorado with it's many crags and 14'ners; Southern California with it's fair weather and sun-drenched granite; and Salt Lake City, UT with its backyard of desert walls.  However, beyond these obvious climbing centers, there are many unsung locales that harbor all of the basic ingredients, just on a smaller scale.  Some make up for that scale with other, less obvious ingredients--ingredients that combine in unexpected, yet fortuitous ways.  It's like arugula on pizza.  With a squeeze of lemon, and a compliment of prosciutto, you have an unexpected masterpiece.  That's DC.  Its vertical assets are modest, but the way they combine is exquisite.

This will be the first post of many that will identify and honor DC's finest ingredients.

1. Earth Trek's Rockville

When they opened the expansion this new year, I felt how I imagine you would feel if your company went public and you became a millionaire over night.    ET Rockville is now the largest climbing gym in the country, and 20% larger than the 2nd largest.  The expansion offers the Gnarwall, which overhangs as far as it is tall; the Death Star, a floating planet of a top-out boulder; the Reactor Wall, which looks is like climbing the outside of a cooling tower; 5 cracks (yes, I'm including the off-width curtain slot in the new birthday area); an upgraded work out room; and a yoga room.  The gym single-handedly quashed this military brat's impulse to move every few years.

Just a corner of the new gym.

Here's to the route-setters: to Skilla for his bounty of quality, flowing routes; to Dickey for his damning cruxes; and JK for finding ways to make large holds utterly useless.

Here's to the Roadies and Road instructors who would all have bright futures in alpinism given their predilection for suffering.  I'm with you, but enough plank already.

Here's to the staff who wear their calves on their forearms, and campus more naturally than they walk.

Here's to the kids on the climbing team who hike my projects mid adolescent hormonal spew of gossip, texts, and posturing; who remind me that I could barely do a pullup at that age; who make me wish I found climbing much, much earlier.

Here's to the members who make the place feel like a second home.  I'm constantly impressed by how hard you pull after a full day of keeping government secrets, and saving the world.  That's right.  I'm on to you.  I know you're all spooks.

Earth Treks Rockville

Goals experiment: The Prow

It's common knowledge that most climbers don't like to talk about their future goals. Honestly, I don't really understand this. I guess talking about your goals feels a little too exposing, for some. Or maybe the fear is that it will set you up for failure. The fewer people who know that you intend to climb something, the fewer people you will need to explain your failure to. Maybe some are just frightened of jinxing themselves? I can't say. But I do know one thing. That shit is boring.

Crux pitch of The Prow (it can't be that hard...girls can climb it!)
Photo from mountainproject.com

We aim to push the boundaries here at the Bailure Blog -- climbing norms, societal expectations, and even good taste. So we decided we'd not only talk about our dearest, most closely held climbing goals, but we'd also like to lay them out in detail on this blog for all to see and judge.

For our first experiment, we decided we'd give you a gift, dear reader(s?). We're going to offer up one of our longest-held, most sacred free climbing goals for your scrutiny. Dan and I have been talking about onsighting one of Cathedral Ledge's tespiece climbs, The Prow, for over a year now. We think we're capable, and we're going to give it our best effort.  We hope to post a few times on this blog in the weeks leading up to our attempt, in order to document our training and thoughts on the upcoming climb (but no promises). Then, of course, we'd like to do a trip report or after-action debriefing.

Greater Internet Fuckwad Theory

We realize that by posting this, we're opening ourselves up to a lot of criticism. In essence, we're calling our shot, Babe Ruth style. We're going to walk up to The Prow and onsight that bitch. We understand that we may get exactly the type of crude, malicious invective that only anonymous internet posting can deliver, according to the Greater Internet Fuckwad Theory. But, we hope we'll receive thoughtful, incisive commentary instead. So, feel free to engage in this experiment. And that's exactly what this is, an experiment. We'll see how it works out. In the meantime, check back for possible pre-game posts about this classic New Hampshire route.

A collection of movements and a pair of testicles

What makes a man a man? Luckily, we've had the answer to this question since 1998, when the Dude summed it up so nicely: It's being prepared to do the right thing, whatever the cost ... along with a pair of testicles.

But what makes a route a route? Can a climbing route be more than just a collection of movements over rock and ice, or is it exclusively the sum of its parts?

Well, I think that depends on the person who climbs it. After all, it's people who create routes. Without the individual's experience, a route would be nothing more than just a series of movements. But when you add the human element, a route can become so much more. Take for instance New Hampshire's classic alpine route, The Black Dike. After three winter climbing seasons, I finally had the opportunity to climb this route in late February. To me, this route was much more than just three pitches of moderate rock and ice climbing in a stark alpine environment.

Black Dike in condition, February 2012
(photo taken from mountainproject.com)

Old Ragged

When I started climbing 5 years ago, I liked how it brought out the best in me.  I liked how it drove me to bed early, how it inspired me to eat well, and how it stripped my focus to a crystal edge.  Climbing still focuses me, but I've become more comfortable, and have allowed my other life--real life--to encroach upon my climbing discipline more and more.  This weekend my "comfort" reached a new level.

The plan was to join Andre, one of DC's finest trad climbers, for a day on the granite of Old Rag in the Shenandoah Mountains of VA.  To prepare, I planned to get a light workout in on Friday night, have dinner with Laura, and get a solid night of sleep.  Nope.

Friday we said goodbye to someone I've worked with for the last 5 years.  He was a boss, colleague, and friend.  What started as a farewell happy hour at Matchbox gained momentum until there was no jumping off.

My alarm went off at 6:15am Saturday morning.  "Why do I have an alarm set on a Saturday?  That's ridiculous."  Then it all came back.  Andre would pick me up in 15 minutes.

"What have I done?"

In a stupor, I filled my climbing pack, and jumped into Andre's waiting car.  Part of me engaged in conversation about our coming day, and another reeled in horror.  "When did I go to sleep last night?"  "How did we get to Cleveland Park from Rockville? Right, we took the metro, but Grosvenor Station was closed, wasn't it?  We rode a shuttle bus?"

On the rolling, curved roads at the base of Old Rag I became overwhelmed by nausea.  Andre kindly stopped the car and stood aside as I retched coffee and fruit.

Thank goodness for the hour and a half approach hike.  Thank goodness for the redemptive, cleansing therapy of long slow cardio.