http://www.healthfitnessmag.com/Health-Fitness-Magazine/December-2012/Learning-The-Ropes/

http://aaj.americanalpineclub.org/climbs-and-expeditions/north-america/canada/yukonnorthwest-territories/mt-proboscis-at-dawn-we-ride-woman-at-work-first-one-day-free-ascent-by-katie-lambert/?utm_source=AAJ+Contributors+Mailing+List&utm_campaign=df969c7281-December_2012_Publications_E_News&utm_medium=email

overseas flights, airplane food, sleeping in train stations, missing train connections, using pay phones, not knowing the language, anticipating getting to Ceuse, arriving at the campground and the little caravan, being there for 1 month. all the pizza truck dinners, grocery store sagas, hours spent on terrible wifi, bar visiting and beer tasting, stinky cheese, tarts, blue limestone and big run outs, cold showers, moldy refrigerators, frozen conditions, rain storms and snow. lost somewhere in rural France, quaint villages, amazing bread, local wine and honey, gite rentals, a house full of Germans, the mostly soggy routes at St.Leger. crossing over into Spain, Spanish prostitutes, civil war remnants, olives, the teal cool Mediterranean, seafood, Roman ruins, old farmers and old towns, coffee with milk, the red hue of Siurana and the conglomerate of Montsant, wet routes, climbing in the rain, tapas, 3 course meals, being hungry with no place to go, more cheap wine, terrible water,  tufas of Terradetts, hotel nights, the camp stove and cooking out the window, carrots for pipes, farmers markets, serious old ladies, and the beautiful butcher shop

“Wheel of Fortune” is chiming in the background. The sound of money clanging through the metal runway of the slot machines fills the gaps in between turns of the wheel. Only in Nevada, I think, will one encounter gambling in the airport. Out of the 14 slots that adorn the aisle only one is occupied. I watch this individual and try to decipher if they are playing the slots in an act of desperation, a last ditch effort to win big before they fly away or if they are playing just to fill in the time.

I’ve one hour before I board a plane to NYC and then eventually across the Atlantic to Europe. Another climbing trip. Only 12 days ago did we get back from an expedition to the Yukon/NWT. I can hardly wait to climb again. But, it’s not like I haven’t been climbing – in the 12 days I was home I climbed 8 of those days. And the 22 days before that we were climbing in the Cirque of the Unclimbables. And the 4 months before that we spent climbing in Yosemite and on and on and further back.

The majority of my (our) time is spent climbing and if we aren’t climbing the time is spent organizing ourselves to climb or  resting to climb or reminiscing about the climbs that came before. We occupy ourselves with time fillers like gambling, drinking, writing, cooking, gardening, working. Life becomes busy and hectic during all of our non-climbing time. We multitask and dream of other things. We are not present.

I am filling my time by thinking back on this last year and all the things we’ve done and places we’ve been. I think about our friends and their achievements and set backs and they inspire me. I think about the climbs that passed under us as we reached summits and anchors and made new records and the views that waited for us at the top. I think about the bonds that were created during those hard times and moments of digging deep.  I think about my personal climbing achievements in the last year – climbing proficiently in the Valley and doing classics like the Crucifix, climbing El Cap with Eliza, freeing Half Dome in a day with my HUSBAND, making the second and third ascents of Mikey Schafer’s “Rise and Fall of the Albatross” in Tuolumne, my first expedition and the great success of it to the Cirque of the Unclimbables, being one of five women to ever summit Mt.Proboscis – climbing it all free in a day and being the only woman to do that, climbing Lotus Flower Tower with three great friends, and all the onsights and redpoints and unattained ascents in between. It has me excited about the climbing that is to come,  about the places I will find myself in and the landscapes that await. I think about the vast wilderness that lives in the far reaches of the Earth and the quiet way it humbles us. I am longing for the simplicity of climbing.

That presentness isn’t back with us until we are climbing again. We think of nothing beyond the now when back in the mode we so dream of being in. It’s not about the next expedition, the next climbing trip, the upcoming bouldering season or where we just were- its’ about the holds we are on, the movement we are doing. Things return to being simple. We get to live it and it is in those moments we are where we are suppose to be – nowhere else.

We’re somewhere out in the Arizona Strip – in a desert patch between I-15 and Hwy 91. The Virgin River cuts the landscape of limestone bluffs and desert sage a few miles away. I can see its contours in the fading evening sun. There is another glow in the sky to the south of us. It’s the lights of Las Vegas – plastered against the night sky like an advertisement telling all within a 100 mile radius of it’s grandeur; competing for brightness with the stars. The town of Mesquite, NV is less than 15 miles away and St.George, UT is about 30. Old, discarded, ply-wood and and cinder block houses rest against the horizon. Although there are all these signs of human habitation and alteration it feels like a no-mans land.

Our van glows in the dark out here. We are passing through this land, looking for our people, trying to find our place.If this were still the wild west we would be in danger of being spotted- for fear of being robbed and raped by others who are equally out of place in this landscape. Sometime in the 19^th century Mormon settlers started to arrive, pushing the original people further out into the fringe of the strip. Those families who were lucky enough to survive the battles with the whites now inhabit the reservations which disappear into the expanse of the desert. With the native people out of the way the land could then be used for personal gains. The land has been heavily impacted by it’s human use. In the early 20th century ranchers ran estimates of 100,000 cattle through the area to forage on the once large stretches of grassy meadows in the valleys and on the high Kaibab Plateau. In the present day an industry of intense and sporadic mining efforts of minerals, coal, natural gas, gold and who knows what else have left areas ravaged and desecrated.

Tapped into the Welcome Springs – one of many constructed watering holes for livestock purposes.

Disrupted dust of the altered landscape from the Grefco mine on Hwy 6 blows through the Nevada desert.

It’s beautiful here and I turn my back to I-15, trying to picture the place before the roads, buildings, and people. I try and imagine it under the sea,as it once was. But it seems so far fetched, because after all this interstate is one of the busiest, most traveled in the country. It’s sole purpose to feed commerce as is a result of the North American Free Trade Agreement. One of the end results of this road with it’s eighteen wheelers, 5^th wheel trailers, and air conditioned SUV’s has been the fast growing populations of California, Nevada and Utah. The impact is vast.

I-15 and the Virgin River

Nicky Dyal basking in the Virgin waters

The Virgin River, once a wild and free water flow is now covered by this freeway and fed by the run-off from cookie cutter homes, casinos, Mormon Temples and white bread factories. The desert tortoise is now fenced into areas of the range – for it’s own protection from vehicles speeding by. I keep my eyes peeled for them but, in all the weeks out here I’ve not seen a single one. Horses, which used to run free have been rounded up by the BLM and either killed or sold. Deer still roam the country in small herds and it’s been said that Big Horn sheep and Mountain Goats roam the high plateaus and rocky outcroppings, navigating the roads and fences. Only the birds seem to have the freedom their ancestors once knew of.

a Joshua tree forest in it’s interpretation of time

We fit well into this no-man’s land though. For we’ve come here to be removed from the hustle and the freeway and the overpopulation and all the packaged compartments of modern day living. We’ve come here to climb rocks and be with the landscape and live as harmoniously as we can with the nature that surrounds the cities and roads. There are five of us here in three vans. We’ve established a van camp – our home base where we cook, eat, play scrabble and stretch in the morning sun together. Our lives are simple – we rise with the sun and go to sleep with the moon. We watch in amazement as the Arizona Toad (a friendly group of neighbors in the nearby spring) perform their sacred dance of centuries old. It is their mating season and each night they chirp their song and get it on. It is beauty in it’s most basic form. We feel about as close as we’re gonna get to a tribe, to a traditional way of living – to being primal and in tune with our surroundings.

Important social gatherings, like mate at the crag, keep us connected

The night Ben Ditto won at Scrabble

Let the mate lead the way

Our time in this swath of land is a glimpse of how simple it once was and perhaps how simple it one day could be again. Before the freeways and stores and perhaps again after. In the meantime, however, we still rely quite heavily on these facets of society. We need the commodities the towns have to offer but when we venture into them to gain our sustenance we feel out of place and far removed. It is our retreat back into the Joshua Tree forests, clear running springs, Limestone cliffs and nights filled with the croaking frogs that hold us in comfort and ease.

Katie Lambert on an evening Resurrection

Final Cut (5.12c) Yosemite. ben ditto photo

Spring is here and with it we should be feeling some sort of relief from the heavy snow laden winter but really it has us wondering the winter ever went. The Sierra much like the rest of the Western Hemisphere experienced the warmest and driest winter on record. Being a climber this made for amazing climbing days but being a nature lover it has me concerned for our environment – it’s meadows, rivers, lakes and the central valley with it’s orchards, farms and the hundreds of thousands merging into millions of people who rely on that food. But, I try and not dwell too long on the harsh reality that stares us all in the face and look more to what good things I can do with the time that I have – primarily what a great climbing season the winter was and what a good one the spring looks like it will be.

We spent a great deal of time in Bishop – where there were almost too many splitter days – so much so that we had to force ourselves to take rest days. Bouldering occupied the first of the winter months. I returned to the Buttermilks and the Tablelands with some very specific (some even leftover from years prior) projects in mind and to my surprise and delight most all came to pass quickly.

Yayoi Left – V8; Morning Dove White – V7; Working Class – V8; Pope’s Roof – V7; Wills Arete – V5; Grotesque Old Woman – V7

Acid Wash Right SDS – V9; Strength in Numbness SDS – V9

And while these problem are by no means groundbreaking ascents they did mean a lot to me and kept me pretty inspired to keep trying things and seeking out lines that suit me. Soon enough though this had me with a whole list of new projects – most of which had me feeling like I was beating my head against the wall. It was time for a change before I got too burnt out.

Resurrection (5.13b) Welcome Springs. ben ditto photo

Luckily or unluckily, depending on your take, Tioga Pass was open late into January and I took the opportunity to try my hand at Midnight Lightning – making amazing progress and getting some un winter crack climbing in as well. Ben and I then took another trip to S.Utah for some more Limestone fun. I had about two weeks of time there and didn’t fixate on any one thing but mostly developed a program of getting in as many pitches and pump as possible in a day. I climbed some really great routes there – Baleen – 5.12a, Purple Haze – 5.12d, The Infadels – 5.13a. I tried Indulgence and the Cross and I gave a go at Coach at the VRG and found all to be of quality and fun movement – all things to go back for! Sadly my two weeks went by far too quickly but I left for Yosemite to help our non-profit Sacred Rok with some youth trips and do some climbing. I went out crack cragging at the Finger Licken clif and did some routes I had never climbed before as well as some recently put up lines. With Sacred Rok we took the kids out scrambling around on rocks and trails and playing in the snow. Their excitement and wonder of the natural world inspired me in ways that felt refreshing and new. These trips with the youth inspire dreaming and stories and show me what it means to find yourself and your path. I was excited about all the potential I was seeing in the freedom of being outside and everything that a life lived following a dream has to offer.

Don’t Call Me Coach (5.13d) VRG. ben ditto photo

Once again I returned to Bishop in the later half of the winter and I primarily focused on route climbing. I made a new girl friend climbing partner – something I’ve been longing for in my climbing for years – and together we descended on the Owen’s River Gorge for 12 pitch days and routes that seemed improbable. I was given permission to start climbing on an old discarded project from 12 plus years ago and after a few guy friends made some ascents of it I successfully made the first female ascent of it – Holey Wars 13c. I tried my luck on the steep roof crack Looney Tunes (5.13b) and was excited to be clipping the anchors on my 3^rd go. I went for another steep and reachy (manufactured) classic 13a called Aurora. I had it so wired that I incorporated it into my mega pitch training days down there. And just when the season was getting too hot and the rattlesnakes were making their appearances I made an ascent of a line called Fight Club (5.13b). This is a line that seemed so unlikely for someone of my frame but I tried it anyway for the fun of seeing what I could do – and at the last possible moment on the last possible day I had before once again returning to Yosemite I successfully redpointed.

Holey Wars (5.13c) Owens River Gorge. patrick o’donnell photo

Holey Wars (5.13c) Owens River Gorge. patrick o’donnell photo

Holey Wars (5.13c) Owens River Gorge. patrick o’donnell photo

And so here I am back in the land of the giants starting another spring and summer climbing season. And where Sacred Rok will be hosting a series of youth trips into Yosemite for day trips, trail work days, camping trips and hopefully continuing to inspire in the youth that sense of wonder and purpose. I kicked it off the season by climbing Separate Reality and Tales of Power – two classic lines that epitomize Valley free climbing. From this view it looks like it will be a long and dry season and hopefully a season of long routes and adventures. There is one adventure that we have been planning for a while and will take place in June – Ben Ditto and I are getting hitched – this may just be the biggest adventure yet!

I couldn’t swallow – Ben had just told me under a hushed breath that Holly killed herself. I turned to look out the window. A wind was blowing the desert around. I felt so sad. I looked back at him, “Holly who?” “You know who,” was the reply. It’s true, I knew who. It’s something I think we all already knew but was never spoken because it was just too uncomfortable – something that made you shift in your seat, divert your eyes and clear your throat. Why would she decide that was the best answer I wondered and then I wondered how amongst all the friends and family could we not anticipate this and then I wondered how well we really knew her, how well do we know anyone?

If you were to look at her Facebook profile update it won’t tell you she’s dead. Down in the list of people available to chat on Ben’s Facebook is Bjorn-Eivind, another friend passed away. In my email list of people signed-in is my old college room-mate, deceased now for over five years. While in the flesh these people no longer exist, they seem to be doing just fine in the cyber-world.

Fiberoptics, more intelligent technology – the military is constantly talking about these things as ways to improve weapons and communication. So, that perhaps a missile can be launched remotely and kill it’s target thousands of miles away and then what, update the victims profile to dead? In a world of fast cars, fast weapons, fast food, and fast internet connections we aren’t any closer to one-another, if anything we may be even more distant than ever. Locked into boxes in which we feed information – leaving quick comments to friends on vacation in Hawaii or a father who lives across the country – our lives can seem to just flash by without realizing. While these things make us feel like we are connected they’re mostly ways in which we can ease our desire for true connections – they give us the illusion of reaching out and touching the world.

The last time I saw Holly in person I could tell she was down. I offered the best advice I could and gave her a hug. We connected for real that day – eyes meeting one-another, all guards down; we experienced our humanness and it’s sadness. Perhaps I should have said more, told her I loved her, that she was beautiful, that every day is worth living. Perhaps I should tell all my friends and family these same words and while I could post it on Facebook or send it out as a mass text I want to look them all in the eyes, hold their hands and say it.

Evening in the van – our home on wheels. It’s nice to come back to something comfortable after falling off the project all day. Grand Illusion, oh you are an elusive climb to me! Ben has had the patience to belay me while I try. What a hard job it is to be the belayer – wanting to be supportive, to say the right things, to give advice, to just make them do it, you hope they do it so you don’t have to catch the fall, or have to come back again. And then they fall.

My best go of the day was my second attempt. I made it all the way to the end of the roof, past the last placement. Arms and body pumped – screaming to hold on – trying to keep it together but being blinded by the searing lack of blood flow to my arms. At the last jams before I bust out into the stem at the lip. The anchors, they are there, they are just right there. I feel frantic – tryin, tryING,TRYING to hold on and then whoosh….The air whips past me and I come to rest ten feet below. I hang there and then yell “FucK!” I hang some more – gain my composure and then start to pull up on the rope but I am too pumped and too far out. I meekly ask Ben to lower me. I arrive back on the ledge and sit down. Looking out across the hills to the burned out and cut down trees – snags lie all around. Highway 50 cuts through just below – cars buzzing by all day, all day. Some swifts practice their acrobatics – so graceful, so sure. I wish I could be so precise, so light as they. I struggle to untie my rope – my arms still pumped. I feel dejected and week. I feel incredibly tired. How badly I want to clip those anchors – how badly I try to visualize it all coming together in one harmonious dance. I can untie now and I lay back against the cold granite – humbled once again, longing still.

I tuck myself into my sleeping bag and try to push away the depression of failure. I get a text message from our dear friend Jon Gleason. It reads, “Did you send that shit?” I send a simple “NO” back – but my reception is spotty and the phone tells me” Failed to Send” Yea, I know – thanks. I try to send it again, it goes through. He responds with words of encouragement. I sort of feel better. Ben tries to leave me alone – I know its hard for him to. I think about when will I have the opportunity to come back and try again. I get a little gripped about timing, I feel frantic in my thoughts. Deep breath, ahhhhh. I settle with the fact that Sugarloaf lies just up hwy 50, a half a days drive away. I will have the chance to come back, I will have the chance to try again. And after all it’s fun – the unknown of when it will go, the process of it.

Where does it come from? For me it comes in many forms such as the beauty of a place, the serene ambiance of a location, the waterfall that lies to one’s back, the birds chirping in the trees, the aesthetics of the rock and the movements of a route, the history of a climb, the people we climb with and the energy they bring; all of these things bring me inspiration, all of these things drive me to want to climb and appreciate the simplicity of doing it. Seeing new places and learning new routes, these too add to my inspiration. For some months Ben and I had plans to travel to Utah to shoot a wedding for some friends; we planned on making a climbing trip out of it. I had yet the opportunity to check out the limestone of southern Utah and so a new place with new routes was on the horizon – new inspiration. However, forming a routine also really inspires me and this can lead to be reluctant to leave a place (especially Yosemite), especially when the weather is good . But I realize that sometimes getting settled into what is comfortable can leave me lacking. Regardless, when it finally came time for Ben and I to make good on our plan to head east to Utah for the majority of November I did so with a little hesitation.

We had been enjoying quite a wonderful Fall in the Valley. We both made an ascent of the ultra-classic and technically challenging Kurt Smith testament to the ground up standard “Keeper of the Flame” – a beautiful, thin line that goes for about 130 feet clocking in at 5.13. I believe this to be another first female ascent for me. We had also been spending some time climbing on the South Face of Half Dome and inspiration was high. The location, the remoteness (although cell reception is better no place else than back there), the rock quality, the difficulty – it was all giving us so much. Ron and I had also been enjoying some climbs of the day on old, obscure, classics such as Pat and Jack’s “Cat Squirrel” and the Owl’s “Mirage”. But our time was drawing to a close and although snow had been falling conditions were due to only get better. Yosemite is perhaps the place that inspires me the most and with that comes a huge list of routes to do and boulders to scramble and my feelings were mixed about leaving. I had to remind myself that the rocks and the routes would be there when I return, so no need to fret over wanting to do it all in a hurry. Besides, we would be heading to some of the best limestone in the west, it couldn’t be so bad.

Keeper of the Flame – Ron Kauk photo

Ron Kauk photo

Our first day climbing we went to the Virgin River Gorge. As we pulled into the parking off of I-15 my eyes widened with excitement. The wall was steep, featured and draws seemed to hang from almost every route. I was excited to finally see the famed VRG. I had heard plenty about the freeway but I was still shocked at the crag’s proximity to the road. A quick ten minute approach in which one has to cross under the freeway to get to the cliff- walking amongst dirty diapers, discarded condoms, dismissed beer cans and other signs of the seedy underbelly of humanity had me marveling at the juxtaposition. It was like passing through hell to get to heaven. At the base of the wall Ben rattled off a slew of names and grades neither of which I heard very clearly over the buzz of the cars below. It all looked good and I was at a complete loss for what to tackle first. Thankfully I was defeated in our match of Roshambo and I could let him give me a tour. Watching him on the warm-ups I realized very quickly how steep the wall really was. I climbed a few pitches and was feeling pretty good about it all before I was thwarted by a pumpy and powerful 12c. I was surprised, confused and started to find it harder and harder to concentrate. The constant clamor of I-15 was taking over my mind. I was losing psyche and growing more frustrated by the minute. My inspiration was disappearing as I became mesmerized by the freeway. It was like looking at something too hideous to look at but for some reason not being able to turn away. If only I could look away, tune it out, concentrate; I struggled with myself. I belayed Ben on a few more pitches and much to my relief the sun set and we were able to leave this place with it’s bittersweet position.

Thankfully the next day we went to the Cathedral – a beautiful limestone cliff with a 30 minute approach out in the Utah hills. There were no cars, no rumble of the road and no problem hearing your partner. The rock was just as amazing as the VRG. Inspiration was back up! I was psyched. Coming from Yosemite my fitness level was pretty high but my mental preparedness for overhanging routes wasn’t as high. It took some getting used to for me to come out of my comfort zone and to climb spread out. It took some getting used to in general. I had to try hard, I had to take the big whips, I had to let go of the fear of falling and know that the falls were clean – there were no ledges to hit or pieces to pull. I had to get out of my trad mind and get into my go for it mind. It took a lot of work and by the days end I was tired.  After a day’s rest we were back at the Cathedral and after a few days of climbing there I had found my groove. I made an ascent of a 13 called Holbytla that proved to be quite a little battle and a great learning experience. Around the 7th bolt there is about 15 to 20 feet of a boulder problem on steep, sloping pockets.  Nothing felt positive, nothing felt solid. Skipping the crux clip I took fall after fall. The cold was causing my hands to numb out up there and I realized that I wasn’t really pumping off but more just letting go. I needed to just hold on and keep moving, not let go. I wanted the holds to be better but they weren’t. I needed to accept the route for what it was and adjust myself to it. I needed to just go for it to keep moving upwards with no doubt or hesitation. After realizing this I was clipping the anchors and feeling like I had learned a valuable lesson in rock climbing.  Using my new-found spread out, hang on and go for it approach I made an ascent of a really stellar 13b called Resurrection a couple of days later. I think I could have stayed out there indefinitely but once again the temps were dipping and it was time for us to head out.

Conditions wouldn’t be so harsh at the VRG Ben informed me. My heart sank a little but I knew it was inevitable that we would be going back there. I readied myself for the traumatic experience. I told myself that the freeway actually sounded like waves breaking on shore. I hoped this would inspire me. I tried hard, I pulled hard, I crimped hard. I used the power I had found at the Cathedral to fuel me. It worked for a while. But after 6 pitches and considering going back up on the epic Fall of Man I just couldn’t muster an ounce more of psyche. I was over it and lapsed into unmotivation and started to beat myself up about it all over again.

I really wanted to like this place, I wanted to try hard in the face of failure, I wanted to push myself to new levels of inspiration but I was struggling. The road noise, the shade, the cold rock, the overhanging wall with its huge reaches and slimy holds were all overwhelming me. I was losing my power. Once again the sun set and we could leave. I walked back to the car, crossing under the bridge to hell with my head hung low. I felt like I had failed in some way. I felt like I had let myself down by not pulling through and maintaining a positive outlook. Back in the hotel I turned on the TV and tried to push aside all thoughts of climbing. The channels were filled with things like Real Housewives of Atlanta, Lady Hoggers, Millionaire Matchmaker and terrible news programs. I searched the channels for inspiration and I wondered what the hell was wrong with us people? What is it that we are doing with ourselves, to ourselves and to the world? I came to the understanding that I should be inspired by the simple fact that I have the opportunity to go rock climbing, that I have the choice to be free in myself and enjoy the act of moving over stone.

Back at the VRG the wind whipped against the rock, the cars rumbled below. My body felt stiff and my mind tired. In the warmth of the hotel room finding inspiration seemed easy, out here I was going to have to dig deep, to think about being thankful for the day, thankful for climbing. I would let the rock inspire me. I tried hard. The warm ups felt hard, I felt less than good. It would be a practice day – I would use it as an opportunity to do moves, hold onto holds and enjoy the process of doing that. I tried Fall of Man a couple of times with no expectations, just practice. I did better than I thought I might do. I made it to  a new high point past the crux before faltering and just missing a crimp with the left. I fell and I lowered. Looking back on that I know that I stood in the way of myself. I had stopped myself from doing the move, from grabbing that hold. I realize that still in me after all the red-points and onsights that I still carry a fair amount of doubt.  After the lesson I thought I had learned at the Cathedral I still hesitated. While reaching up for that hold I didn’t believe enough that I could do it, that it was ok to grab it.

We left the VRG in the cold of the late evening and headed back to Bishop. I was bummed to leave with unfinished business. After all the dis-ease and dislike I had I found myself almost begging Ben to let us stay just one more day in the hopes of getting to climb Fall of Man one more time, but the temps were too frigid to climb anymore and it was clear that we should head home. On the drive back I thought about Jerry Moffat, I had just finished reading his autobiography and the take home message I got is that if you want something then you go for it 100%, with no doubt, no hesitation, with only positivity and inspiration. Back here in the warmth of our house in Bishop I’m using my new inspiration. We will return to the VRG in the next months I’m sure and I will let myself do Fall of Man then but in the mean time I’m climbing with more purpose than ever – I’m going to go for it 100% with no hesitation and no doubt, with positivity and inspiration.

It’s the Fall Equinox and by all rights the summer should be over, but temps reaching higher than 100 degrees are telling me otherwise. The heat has me uninspired to climb although my body is craving the physical exertion; so, to make myself feel more at ease I will revel in my summer’s sends. After our July efforts on Leaning Tower we headed to higher ground. We headed to Tuolumne – where the water was ice cold and the rock climbs kept our tips numb. The season up there is limited and so I try to have some specific goals so I don’t find myself too idle. A few years back when I was climbing on “Peace” I was intrigued by a route to the right named “Golden Rose.” I had tried it once that summer and found it to be quite hard, quite thin and quite reachy. But, when this summer season started up there I found myself wanting to give it a good going over. I was lucky in that a few friends were interested in doing Peace and so I would have partners to hike up to Medlicott with and give a belay.  My first time up the route this season confirmed my thoughts about it from the past – it was extremely thin, it had long move after long move and felt incredibly sustained but it also felt very doable. I wanted more of it. After a few days effort on the route I was psyched to make the first female ascent of this classic Ron Kauk line.

Golden Rose 5.13c

My fire was stoked and went after another project of mine that has lasted me three summers – The Steel Fingers Traverse. It’s rated V8 but I want to give it a personal grade of V10 – but I don’t guess that would be right so I’ll humbly stick to what the Tuolumne Rock Gods have given it. It’s a 40 foot traverse that goes through a series of slopers, crimps, heel hooks, horizontals, underpalms and cracks. The typical beta at the start of the crux is to get a left heel, toe and lock off to a sloper crimp above the roof. This works great for those that are 5’8″ and taller but for us shorties it a whole different game. The reason this traverse has taken me so long is because of this move – I needed to find a different way and I did. It involves an undercling pinch, super high feet and a pop out the roof. Ok, hard move but I could do this move almost every time, the issue then became being able to do the move while holding the pump from the 15 or so feet into it and then holding on for all that came after it. I worked it, worked it, worked it. I had it down in a few sections, then I had it down to two sections – all the moves into the pop then all the moves from the pop to the end. But, damn it! I kept putting my foot down when I would go for the move – I realized that I was having a mental game with myself. I was thinking that I couldn’t do it, that it was too hard for me to do it all and I was holding myself back, I wasn’t letting myself succeed. I needed to break through, to change the thought pattern. So, I started doing it from just a few moves before sometimes I would succeed, mostly I wouldn’t. Then I would just start doing that move to the end over and over again, with a fierce pump. This showed me I could hold on, I had the power to do so. On the day that I red-pointed Golden Rose I tried to send Steel Fingers. I thought that the psyche from the mornings accomplishment would have me stoked. I didn’t do it, but I came really close. A couple days later after a good rest and some pep talks from both Ben and Ron I knew it was time. I warmed up and then arranged the pads as needed. I fired it first go that day! I had surprised myself when I stuck “the move.” I had to real my thoughts back in and keep it together for the rest of the traverse, for there are a few more cruxes before the end. As I reached the last hold and then stepped down off the problem I had not only just made another first female ascent but I had personally come through a transformation.

Steel Fingers Traverse

This had all happened just in time for the next week Ben Ditto, Jon Gleason, Eric Ruderman and I headed to the Needles for a ten day stint of secluded, low commitment multipitching. In our time there we got in a little over 36 miles of hiking and about 36 pitches of climbing. It’s a magical place there at the southern end of the Sierra. The granite is splitter and grippy and the pro can be plentiful and solid to sparse and sketchy. From the late 60’s to the early 90’s is when most of the climbing was put up at the Needles. In 1969 Fred Becky made the first ascent there and in the years to follow it would be only a handful of hard men and women putting up FA’s. When I first caught wind of the Needles it was the 90’s. The electric green lichen of the place suited the style of the era and the glossy pages of the climbing mags were adorned with lycra, runouts on thin flakes and mystical sounding names of formations like The Warlock and The Sorcerer. Master’s of Stone had Ron Kauk and DanO moving through the landscape as if a playground. In our ten days there we saw that playground shut down more parties of climbers than not on the humbling experiences of cracks that tapper out to descents up talus filled gullies to the 3 mile hike out. We saw more people leave early, almost fleeing with fear than on the summits of those five fingers of rock.

Many of the climbs seem to have been left in the past. The upfront classics dominate the scene and only the Peregrines can be found on such climbs as the Nautilus. Aside from the bugs, birds and chipmunks our wildlife encounters – much like the gear – was sparse despite being at 7000 feet and in the thick forest of the Sierra. There were no deer, no bear and no cougar and I could only deduce that since the Central Valley with it’s millions of people and agricultural pollution rest only 50 miles away that the animals have moved to less polluted more safe environs.

We ticked off some classics like the Don Juan Wall, Atlantis, and Fancy Free to name a few. Gave a go at things like Pyromania and Titanic and on our last day there Ben and I made an ascent of Romantic Warrior. Through the years I had heard stories of this climb – how bad the pro was, how hard and awkward the cruxes were, how beautiful the line was, how good the climbing was, how shut down people had been on it and on and on. But, somehow this climb was not so bad for us. Perhaps it’s that we came from Yosemite where the runouts can be long, the pro can be funky, and the rock just as chossy as it is solid. And perhaps it’s that in our quiver we have enough experience to go up something like this and come out on top. Whatever the reason for the send on this amazing and elegant line I am thankful, for it was a highlight of the trip and a highlight in my climbing career.

5.12a traverse pitch of Romantic Warrior

As I wrap up this tale of a sublime, sending summer thunder clouds gather above Yosemite Valley. The threat of rain brings with it some cooler temps and hopefully the promise of Fall – for there is still much to climb and explore!

all photos credit to ben ditto <www.bendittophoto.com>