In a rare bit of non-climbing-related news, which serves only to explain my complete disappearance from this blog until now, I (along with 50,000 other people) found myself in the middle of the Black Rock Desert at the beginning of this month for Burning Man. Fear not, I met fellow mountaineers at Camp D.O.A. (Decadent Outdoor Adventurers) and spent a dusty week of art, dancing, inspiration, and new friends.
Although I returned to the “default world” a mere three weeks ago, I’ve already launched myself heard-first into a new chapter in my climbing life. Since the day of my return from Nevada, I’ve been learning the basics of trad climbing, which involves a climber placing all pieces of protection to insure against falls (pitons, cams, stoppers, tri-cams, etc), as opposed to sport climbing where all protection is permanently installed on the route (bolts, etc).
This started with building trad anchors. Each anchor involves placing three pieces of protection and then connecting them with cordelette. After building our anchors (and getting the blessing of someone infinitely more knowledgeable), we rappelled off them. I can tell you that, in all the stupid and dangerous things I’ve done in my life, there have been few adrenaline rushes quite like letting go of the rock and hanging on an anchor that you hope you built correctly.
A bit of an idea of what we’re working with. (Photo by Andrew Holman)
That’s me in the black top on the face of the cliff. What you can’t see if how desperately I’m clinging to the rock. (Photo by Andrew Holman)
Trad climbing, and the bit of of sport lead-climbing I’ve been working on, is a whole new mental game. When I got into mountaineering my habitual gripe was how much I was forced to trust – I had to trust the anchors that other people built, I had to trust the gear that other people placed. Now I realize that it’s a lot easier to trust someone else’s work – I’m constantly second-guessing the way I placed that cam or whether or not that stopper has enough points of contact.
I was lucky to make it down to Smith Rock State Park last weekend (the first time in about a year!), and will be down there for two more weekends in the next month. This trip involved a humbling moment for me. I climbed Sky Chimney – a 5.7/5.8 three-pitch route. One bolted pitch, two trad pitches. The route kicked my butt, to put it mildly. Sky Chimney involves overhangs, crack climbing, stemming, liebacks, and all manner of moves in which I’m woefully unskilled since my all my time has been spent summiting peaks and not hauling myself up cliff faces. I took a fall past my tiny belay ledge (with a little too much slack in the rope) that resulted in a blood curdling scream, a purple and black thigh, and a bruised ego.
It looks impressive, right?
In short, I’m completely thrilled with how much I’m learning. My accident on Sawtooth last year rattled me more than I thought, and some of this multipitch climbing terrifies me; but that’s just a sign that I need to more of it, right?
Also, this gives me unparalleled opportunities for gear acquisition, as if I needed more.
LUST
