DESERT RAT

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uncut_knee_barI feel sorry for the people on this plane. Well, in particular the clean shaven, good looking, tatted up boy sitting next to me. I smell like a desert rat. Filthy, grimy, dusty, good times clinging to my body after another long weekend of climbing, campfires and a heavy dose of tequila. It wouldn’t be right without the tequila or the filth. The filth… I love it. The post trip grime that settles into the pores. It makes me feel alive.

In one of my lower moments of late, after what could only be described as a pathetic on-line encounter with another scummy boy just looking for ass, I shuffled around my house, restless. 10:30pm, drunk and ego bruised, as his excuse for ending our date was that his dog had diabetes and he had to get home and give him an insulin shot. Really? You can see why in my ego bruised stew I decided to take a good friends advice and book a flight to Hueco… before I sobered up. I had only a fraction of a second where I thought I might regret the $200 dropped on plane fare but the feeling of the desert was conjured up quickly in my body as I retraced the moves of my last trip to Hueco. Some way or another I needed to feel that movement again. And like it or not I had just signed up for another desert adventure. Trading in the scum for the filth… In my mind there is a difference.

It had only been about five weeks since I had been there. Since leaving I had been stewing over Uncut Yogi, a super classic V6, with an incredible knee bar sequence that got me so psyched… Thank you Martina. I was blessed with climbing for 3 1/2 days with the amazing Abbey Smith and Vanessa Compton, two desert dwellers that I immediately fell in love with. I hammered out the days sending a variety of grades, with a visit everyday to Uncut Yogi to work out my beta for the top of the problem. Each day I got closer as another key piece of the puzzle would fit together. On my last day at dusk, Tammy, a fabulous Hueco guide, took me back for the final send burns before I had to leave. I got my high point but didn’t get the send. I did take a full value body slam into the pads going for the second to the last hold. I pounded my fists on the pad in defeat, smiling and giggling at my efforts. There were several others that chuckled at the grunts of the Burro-corn too.

I am grateful for the humbling lessons of the desert. Not sending makes me yearn even more for grimy dusty days followed by crisp nights, highlighted by the fire and Reese’s peanut butter cup s’mores. The desert dweller culture, so alive and vibrant, gritty and dusted with the pop of the seasonal locals. I can’t lie that I was sad to get on the plane to leave. I wrestle constantly with my nomadic urges, my love for the dirt, the careless bathing, the days planned around send attempts and optimal rest. I love it so much that I did not even care to wash it off before boarding the plane in the morning. Sorry once again to all the poor souls that had to endure the smelly aftermath of my restless desert dreams.

Hearts.

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MOMENTUM

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rockla_v2blog

I can definitely say that 2013 has begun at full speed. I feel the charge of the burro-corn (a donkey crossed with a unicorn FYI) and the high pitched whinny as she stakes her claim, owns her creative power and learns to weave it with the magic of her fellow stallions into pleasure inducing urethane rainbows gracing once neglected stone walls. This year, we, the RockLA routesetters, are poised at the ready and the rush that is within is only a confirmation that we are going to come charging to a whole new level of experiential movement for the body, mind and soul.

About two years ago I inherited the Rockreation routesetting program. At the time it was a thoroughly neglected band of renegade wrench twirlers, talented for sure, but lacking direction and a clear vision. I say I inherited it because at the time I was like the estranged mare, safely existing in the paperwork filled stable, letting the climbing serve me instead of me serving the climbing. The choice or I should say the call to battle to take over as the head routesetter has yielded challenges and successes that I could not have even imagined. While I don’t want to re-hash a moment of what has passed because it be done, I will say the learning curve has been exponential. I am so grateful to see what once appeared to me as dull, gray angular pathways, are now sprinkled with a colorful enthusiasm and a focused momentum to create, to teach and to enjoy the art of indoor rock climbing.

Stay tuned and stay posted as the team is unveiled. As the momentum catches you and you join us for the great plastic stampede, up the walls of Rockreation, preparing you for even greater adventures beyond our… mostly captivating contrived rainbows. Not all unicorns are perfect. Haha!

Hearts… and Rainbows.

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POP GOES THE WEASEL

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I often find myself in a frenzy of blind enthusiasm. Strung up with a 9.4mm Sterling bi-color beauty pushing my way to another “success” story. This will be good one to share too. I have been on fire lately. Dropping the load of camalots and unplanned overnights in cold places for the featherweight persona of a sport climber. I had no idea I could climb this hard. My first day out I ticked an 11b on-sight and a very close 11d redpoint. Ooooh honey that felt pretty damn good!

However, being the sucker I am for blind enthusiasm… copious amounts of blind enthusiasm… I opted to take this sport climbing venture to a new level. Something turned on inside me as I began to work my first 12’s. I began to enjoy my vomit producing training regimine even more. You would often find me on the floor of the gym chuckling, breathing heavy and deep as I tried not to hurl on the squishy blue carpet from the wicked ab sets I would inflict on myself. I laughed encased in the dizzy haze that clouded my eyesight knowing I was tying myself in to another level of obsession.

But blind as could be I didn’t stop there. Weeks passing with one to none in terms of rest days I was on the proverbial roll. Until… you guessed it.

POP! I looked down at my hand as I peeled of some Malibu pockets and all I could hear banging in my brain was, “NOOOOOOOOO!!!!”. This was January 2012.

Now I know this be the most common of climbing injuries. Many have been plagued by the A1 pulley ring finger tear whatever but F***!. What was I going to do now. Thankfully my finger injury guru of a climbing partner, Josh Higgins, didn’t let me kid myself into climbing some more… um… pockets. (I know… the worst idea.) Instead he lowered me off, gave me a look of pity, followed by a hug and said, “You’re done, let’s go get some Thai food.” To which I answered with bellowing screaming tantrum.

Clearly I didn’t want to see. As I said I quite often find myself in this frenzied state of enthusiasm, not looking where I am going. That particular day I bailed out on work, rearranged kid schedules trying to will my way to the send I had been calculating between waves of nausea induced in those burning ab sets. I saw pretty quickly though.  As the current driver of my 112 pound mack truck body just flew through the windshield at full speed. I was going to be seeing things from the ground view for a while.

With a finger now wrecked, it seemed that digit represented the toll for the mack truck git’r done enthusiast that had just flown out the window. Someone new was going to have to take the drivers seat and dissipate this greedy ego driven obsessive energy that had been fueling this sightless climbing charade. I knew right away that I had been duped. Once again the eye on the prize not on the process mentality ran me off the road.

Sometimes this is the only kind of toll life knows you can’t avoid paying. You’re gonna pay it or else you might be watching re-runs of ego’s head on collisions for decades. It has been an interesting year of climbing since this little tendon tearing incident. I have had time to re-evaluate everything I believed about climbing, about what it means to me, about how I live my life through my work, which is climbing, and where this is all taking me anyway.

The ground view was certainly just as wild and frenzied as the view from way up there. I poured everything into learning all I could about the climbing wall industry, learning to run a successful, conscious business and witnessing how ego creeps into everything. No matter what you are doing. And how to take what is and be at peace with it while you watch what you think you want in a jealous haze float softly up into the imaginary void of “if only” excuses.

I was grounded until about July when I really was able to get back in the game and once again torment my belay partner with belaying me for 45 minutes straight at a time in the gym. Yes… I like it long and hard, boys. And finally by September I had begun to really feel like I could pull down on that little ring finger without thinking. Out of the alpine and into the sport crag once again…

And as I have tried to catch up to my 2012 climbing goals I have realized again how easily I get swept into this get it done reckless attitude and how clearly life is trying to show me a more balanced path.

So I let go of all the goals and began to reflect on what I have accomplished this past year. My hardest trad and sport on-sights, both at 5.11C, my first ever bouldering trips to Bishop and Hueco Tanks and loving it (that is saying a lot for a traddy girl), my first 14‘er via Star Trekkin’ on Mt. Russell, a handful of red-points at 5.11C/D and finally a 12 for my 2012. All this minus my overly obsessive, push all of life aside for just a taste of what I think I should be… In other words some balance.

As I just hit the five year mark of this climbing obsession I am curious to see where it is going to take me. I am pleased to have ended the year guiding two truly inspiring young women on our first ever bouldering trip to Hueco Tanks. I am going to take it as a sign that I am moving even closer to living the passion that fuels this climbing obsession. I believe I will ride this stone roller coaster with new levels of grace and ease, enjoying the loops and falls along the way. So psyched for 2013!

Hearts.

 

 

 

 

*** I have to give a shout out to Pullharder’s Josh Higgins, finger rehab guru and all around super psyched climbing bad ass for keeping me psyched while I was down and the encouragement on the way back up… Thank you. Seriously…

A FINE MATTRESS FULL OF SPLINTERS

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One could say that I chose to lie myself down on a fine mattress of splinters when I rolled in to San Fran, the Sunday after Thanksgiving, to attend a service at the Metaphysical Church of Enlightenment with my two sons in tow. It had already been a long weekend of traveling, food, bebe guns, video games and still there was the lovely drive back to LA to look forward to…  it ended up taking 9 hours! But I am rarely in the Bay area and I was feeling called to attend church despite my fear of laying down on that mattress of splinters… or rather my fear was strong that this could result in a painful experience for me and the boys, with visions of Django’s wriggling body and Cosmo’s incessant questioning interrupting the service. We are not a church going family… It was our good fortune that the Metaphysical Church of Enlightenment is not your ordinary church.

Although the above metaphor was not internalized by me the way it was intended, it was the moment in the service that elicited a giggle from Cosmo, my older son. I looked over at him knowing that in that incessantly questioning mind, which is so vividly processing moment to moment, that he found his connect point to what was happening. To him the mattress full of splinters wasn’t about the prickly nature of acceptance… yes… sometimes acceptance feels like lying down on a mattress full of splinters and taking it, which is what I think Reverend Carraway meant with this metaphor. Instead, I imagined that this imagery conjured up for Comso a Tom and Jerry-esque spin off, with Tom jumping up madly from the sting of those splinters and making a mad dash after Jerry… at least I think this is why Cosmo chuckled along with all us adults…

Bringing the boys to this place, for this experience, proved to be nothing like lying on a mattress full of splinters and more like a delicately firm TempurPedic. Not one of us tried to make a mad dash away… and except for a little bit of squirming on Django’s part I actually enjoyed a moment of being surrounded by a spiritual community that is all about connecting with Source/God/Nature/Whatever you want to call it and recognizing it is you and expressing it in whatever way feels good for you. My children also got the benefit of experiencing the power of a collective consciousness traveling towards the expression of their deepest selves… Even if they didn’t realize it.

I always feel it is important to expose my children to the gamut of what is possible in the world. And the fun part is to sit back and see what grabs them, pulls them in, and turns what is within them in to an outward statement of who they are becoming. I doubt either of them were able to really internalize what was being spoken on a conscious level but somehow I know that energetically, even if through osmosis, they are receiving an imprint of something different than that which they had known before…

For a family that chooses no strict dogma to dictate our comings and goings in life, other than to be true to yourself and allow others the same, I found this to be a great end to our Thanksgiving weekend… Even if the late start home afterwards tested my patience and my… uh-hum… vocabulary for nine plus hours. By the time I got home there were quite a few splinters that had to be removed.

Here is a link to the Metaphysical Church of Enlightenment and the Rodan Foundation. They post vids of the meat of their services each week. Check them out… Reverend Clarke Carraway is an inspiring and grounded speaker and medium.

 http://www.rodan.org

Hearts.

LEVITATING RAINBOWS

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I made a pact last year with myself that my 34th trip around the sun was going to be about having FUN. Not I am checking out kind of fun but the type of fun that arises from an integrated full expression of one’s passion and attitude of play with the great cosmic experience. It has been without a doubt a year filled with new expressions, evolution and a reaching within to draw out the magical and mystical within and with love for myself letting it shine… It has emerged charged with a shimmering gold bling-ity bling, rainbows and unicorns… Really? Yeah really… I never imagined that it would ever look like that.

Without realizing it until this moment, my 35th Bday Red Rocks Unicorn Climbing Extravaganza was a direct expression of this pact. I forgot entirely about the 34+FUN mantra I began with, only to realize now that I had in fact understood all along how to move with love, connectedness and freedom… I just had to want to show up for it… Rainbow leg warmers and all.

Day one of the extravaganza was given to my desire to climb Levitation 29 (5.11C). As we pulled in to the park we were greeted by a huge arching rainbow… What a start to the weekend. I had never climbed at Red Rocks before so my excitement was piqued. I am a desert loving hippie at my core having been born on the Moontribe dance floor many years ago so I knew undoubtedly that I would find a deep connection to the red rocks. Still I felt the first pitch nerves as I balanced on the soft sandstone edges I had never touched before. As always after I am a ways of the deck I relax and found the techy style of L29 to be very suiting for me. We moved quickly up the first four pitches as we got a very late start (Noon start for this couple of bad asses!) As I pulled to the top of the fourth pitch I was hooting and hollering so stoked for the crux pitch. I don’t think I had been that excited about a pitch of climbing in a long time! Pitch five… It was gonna go down!! It was all smiles the rest of the way with beautiful views of Oak Creek Canyon. An excellent start to the birthday weekend!

Back at the Unicorn Palace that evening friends were still arriving and settling in with hot tubbing, catching up on the days adventures and racking for climbs for the next day and you could feel the silliness beginning to build. The next day, my actual birthday, started with Tia’s morning rounds at 7:02 am, perky and popping her head into each room motivating us all to get out of bed. For those of us that didn’t leave at the ass crack of dawn for longer endeavors we rallied for a day at The Gallery Wall. We all dawned our unicorn inspired regalia and descended on the gym like crag, hanging ropes across the wall, causing a stir with other fellow climbers who smiled enjoying the spectacle. Tia, Pilo, Alice and I all took turns on Yak’s crack and later threw down on some other 12’s in the area. It was pretty AMAZE-BALLS to have so many women who could really crank climbing together…

The day ended with some helicopter rescue drama for another party in the area but we managed to maintain and snag our group for a moment to capture the ridiculousness. I was all smiles that day as I looked around to see all the inspiring and amazing friends who came out to celebrate with me… tights, Miami Vice shorts and all. I’ll take it. I’ll make it. I will own the experience of myself that I wanted to have and share with so many very awesome people in my life.

The evening as you can guess unfolded into a flurry of unicorns dancing, hot tubbing, relay races in the pool, singing at the top of our lungs, toasting our favorite moments of the weekend with a bottle of Buffalo Trace and laughing our unicorn tails off. This went on for hours until finally I was the last one standing at 2 am as I sat in the hot tub for a quiet moment enjoying a mental replay of all the fun gazing up at the stars.

Tia once again rallied the troops in the am with her chocolate protein pancakes… perfect after a night of drinking! We headed out to The Pier. Fatigue and hangovers plagued some of us but I still managed an .11 onsight despite the lack of sleep and whiskey still pumping through my veins. At that point the group split and some stayed to sport while others of us headed for some bouldering. We touched on the Kraft boulders where I managed a few V2 onsights in my still whisky infused state and watched Isaac send Scare Tactics (V9). The excessive consumption didn’t seem to bother him! Go Isaac!

I am just realizing while writing this that my weekend encompassed all disciplines of climbing… trad, sport and bouldering… plus costumed shenanigans.  As a climber who strives for balance between climbing and life I see this reflection as a confirmation of my abiltiy to do so… to continually find a balance within my passion. To consistnetly move through the limitations that I am responsible for planting in my mind and choose a more fulfilled experience. Yay me!

The day ended with dinner at Bonnie Springs and a subdued farewell to friends as the drive home awaited. As I rode home with Lucas and Steve we bopped our heads to the some melodious dub-step, shit talking and recounting the weekend.

Thank you again to all of the climbers in our community that never cease to inspire me. And thank you to everyone who was able to come and celebrate with me and bring an energy of positivity, playfulness and fun for all. So excited for my 35th trip around the sun!!

To see the complete album check out the FB Album…

http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10200185518627722.200370.1444380779&type=1&l=a937a5bc61

Hearts.

 

OCTOBER HARD*CORE CLINIC @ ROCKREATION LA

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Hola Ladies!

It is time for another Hard*Core Women’s Clinic @ Rockreation Los Angeles! Stop by the desk and sign up or call 310-207-7199 and do it over the phone. Make it a ladies climbing night and learn some valuable tools to reach the next level in your climbing practice!

Hearts!

 

I SHOULD BE…

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Does this broken record of self sabotage sound familiar to anyone else? I’ve noticed my resistance lately manifesting as this “should be” critics voice telling me where, what, when and how I should be… No wonder I feel like a tantruming child. First off… Don’t tell me what I should do. Secondly… Whose ideas are these anyway? It has all left me feeling frustrated and disconnected. It is easy to get caught up in this stream and look to this voice as my guiding source. I mean… clearly this voice must know what it is talking about… it sure has a long list of ideas about what I can and should be doing with my time. But where are all these ideas coming from and why is it so invested in keeping me busy, distracted and fixated on being some other place than where I am right now. It does it’s job so well this “I should” voice… because really it does not want me to do any of those things. It is the cover up for the self doubt I experience when I even think about showing up a 100% for my life… be it at the crag, at work, in bed as a hot sticky mess o’ lovin’ or for my deepest desires. It is what keeps me from experiencing intimacy with myself, my desires and the realization of my highest potential.

It is no wonder I feel paralyzed and frustrated at the moment. That list of “shoulds” is so long and cycles about in a kind of swirling vortex, overwhelming me to the point that I don’t even know where to start and I just want to walk away. Even though I am fortunate enough to recognize this voice I still get hooked in and my FOMO kicks in and my fear that I will not be enough for anyone or anything leaves me to sit at night mindlessly clicking one episode after another on my Netflix account. I decided to just let myself do this for awhile. Instead of believing the should be’s I would watch them appear and go about watching four seasons of Madmen as I lay on my couch. I think that is OK… for a minute. But now I recognize that the whistle is about to blow. That I can not contain what is within and dumb it down with bad TV, mary jane, an incessant training regimen and a long list detailing what I “should be” doing.

So much has been steeping and brewing and as the whistle begins to blow, the fire of action is to great to bear under the guise of somebody else’s idea of what I should be doing. Now it is time to go back. Back to the basics at the core of what inspires me. What fuels me to create, to love, to climb and to be my bad ass self. And K-N-O-W that I can show up in my vulnerable state as a hot sticky mess of juicy yum. Cuz that’s just the baseline sense of what I am craving. That is the awe-shit check out that line… I am ready to cram my monkey paws into that! Rack up and git’r dun girl!

All that being said, I decided to take a week off from climbing. Rest my monkey paws and let my FOMO subside. Go back to joy. Go back to structure, self care and self love. I can feel the change in my voice already. I can feel the joy in my own words as I type. I want to write blog posts and be vulnerable in this pixelated universe. No radical change is needed. I don’t need a list of “should be’s” to know who I am and what I am about. All I need is to turn in, look up and climb the line of exhilarating juiciness that is my guide.

***As an experiment I challenge you to let the stream of I should’s (or whatever voice that keeps you locked into a thought process that separates you from the current moment or your current state of being) flow without censorship and write down what it has to say. After that look at the list and ask yourself whether these thoughts and ideas match up with your deepest desires… your most full expression of self OR are they representative of the wants of the ego or the struggle to find love and acceptance outside of yourself. See what you find out and see if you can discover new ways to fulfill these parts that seem to be having tantrums of their own. Often just choosing not to believe them allows you to send in a new and beautiful way.  I’d love to hear what you discover.

Hearts.

STAR TREKKIN’ OR START REKKIN’

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A few people have remarked to me lately that I have jumped into the deep end of alpine climbing. Instead of slowly treading my way into the glacial waters that surround the striking peaks of the Sierras, in classic Erin fashion I decided to dive right into the turquoise waters and lose my breath to stunning positions on granite faces via more difficult terrain. My first fourteener and second alpine climb ever was the beautiful Mount Russell by way of the line Star Trekkin’ (5.10) … or as I have renamed it Start Rekkin’. Now… 5.10 trad isn’t always a gimme for me at normal elevations so to take on a climb like this at 13,000 feet plus to a summit of 14,086 feet… well I was scared, intimidated and had no idea what to expect. As I would soon learn the climbing is really only a portion of this endeavor. What really struck me in addition to the backcountry position of the route is all that went into that day of climbing. I am no hero or “a mountain pimp” as I have named a few of my alpine mentors but this experience has unfolded in me something much greater than I knew existed. Maybe this climb is trivial to some but I felt it deeply from my mind down through my haunches… this was definitely legit!

As I was packing for this adventure all I could think of was going to the beach. The beach is like the antithesis of long alpine climbing. Nothing could be more opposite of slogging a bunch of crap into the backcountry, then waking up early, climbing till dark, collapsing at camp and waking up to do it again. Yeah… the beach is totally different than that. But something deeper calls you out there… at this point I think it is my desire to see what I am really made of. So despite my fantasies of laying effortlessly on the beach in a bikini I chose to place 34 pounds on my back and huff my way into the back country.

Toby, aka. Toby-san, one of my most trusted climbing partners, picked me up and we made our way to Lone Pine. We met up with my other partner Darryl, aka. “The Cobra”, who had also chosen to dive in head first to the alpine waters. We had a brief lunch before heading up to the portal. We arrived at the portal around 2pm, gathered Blue, one of those “mountain pimps” I was telling you about and set off for Upper Boy Scout Lake. The hike was hot and sweaty but I was so taken by the scenery and my heavy breathing, as we gained 3000 feet of elevation, that it didn’t seem like to much of a burden.

We arrived at camp early enough to have a lesuirely dinner… apparently “mountain pimps” like to bring Carl’s Jr. Western Bacon Cheesburgers with them… this is a trait that I will not acquire but it seemed to satisfy Blue and make us all laugh. We turned in early and I was nervous about the altitude gain for the day as I laid down. At the Hulk a few weeks earlier my first night sleep was restless from the exertion of the hike and the elevation. Zero to eleven thousand feet in one day, with a four hour up hill hike, a 34 pound bag thrown on my back… Ok…

Thankfully I slept well and awoke the next morning ready to tackle this mission. We left camp at 8am, a bit of a relaxed start for an alpine day. Again I was awed by the scenery as we headed up to Mount Russell, passing Iceberg Lake and Whitney on the way. The terrain began to have what resembled an absence of life. No more trees or thick vegetation… just rocks, rocks and more rocks… I had dreamed about seeing those crystal turquoise lakes found only by the glacial mountains. And life is only observed by those who quietly tune themselves to the subtleties of the surroundings.

As I finally came over the Whitney-Russell saddle, already huffing and puffing, I could hardly believe my eyes when I gazed at Mount Russell. I could immeadiatly spot Mithral Dihedral and just left of that on a vertical seemingly blank looking face the line for Star Trekkin’. Really… we are going to climb up that? Psyched!

At the base I took the lead for the first pitch of 5.7. A mellow pitch like that helps get the day started of right and as always I start to feel better once we are moving. I can look up and see that yes… the line is do-able… so often from far away it just looks impossible. Toby took the second pitch, the crux pitch, which was pulling through a 5.10 roof. He killed it of course, as only Toby can do, relaxed and confident. I saddled up for the next pitch of excellent perfect hands (5.9). I was a little in my head about the gear as we went minimal for our rack, so I threw in a belay, brought Toby up and took a look around. The position on this part of the climb… unbelievable!!!!! The lakes, the mountains, the sheer drop off below us… exhilarating. The fourth pitch brought us a super fun off-width (5.10) which again Toby-san cruised like a master. There were some great compression moves for the exit of this pitch and we both stood at the top of “the business” part of the climb with a big smile on our faces. As we looked over we could the boys, Blue and Darryl, poking their heads around the corner as they were cruising up Western Front.

Now thus far other than huffing and puffing a little more than usual I was happy to report that altitude wasn’t killing me. I was more scared of the altitude than I was the climbing… Or maybe the combination of them both… hurling and climbing with a migraine.. anyway I was lucky enough to not have any real symptoms thus far. But I did notice after my next lead that my energy was starting to tank. I traversed over to Blue and Darryl looking for easy terrain to the summit, brought Toby over and had him lead the next pitch. As Toby brought me up to the next belay I was looking glassy eyed and getting quiet. My body was starting to buzz and I could feel that I was running on fumes. I asked Toby to lead again… even though the climbing wasn’t more than 5.5 at the hardest I still was having a difficult time staying present and focused. Leading felt like to much at the moment so I tried nibbling a bar, ate a goo and drank some water hoping to gain a little recovery while I belayed.

This is where the psychological piece became very present for me. I don’t think I doubted my climbing abilities, however, as I my energy started to bonk my mind started to go on it’s own rampage… my thoughts began to be all over the place and I began to doubt. If I saw a little cloud I would wonder if it meant thunderstorms. If my mind went to the descent I created all these scenarios of hair-raising exposure and dicey down climbing… neither of which am I very experienced with. It went on and on and I had to fight the urge to not go down those paths… I kept telling myself to be here now. Stay here. Stay focused. For some reason I felt loads better when I was climbing and as soon as I started off on the final pitch I steadied myself, breathing deeply to just below the summit.

I could see Darryl and Blue already up there and I went past Toby at the belay for about 15 feet and pulled over on to the summit. Speechless. Except for the loud whoop that escaped my lungs as I stood up on the summit of Mount Russell. Only the air between us and whatever is out there in space… Remarkable.

Then the unicorns came…  I clipped on my bow tie and fastened my horn over my helmet to get a snapshot that boasted a little bit o’ hot mama-ness at 14,000 feet. I hauled one up for Toby as well and as we posed in the P=G signature pose my own moniker rang in my head…  “the punishment is the glory”. Oh yeah… this was damn good.

As all experienced climbers know it ain’t over till it’s over and looking off the summit I could see the long ridge down. I had never traversed a ridge like this and I knew that it wasn’t time to relax and get comfortable. After our little photo shoot, the Toblerone, Jolly Ranchers and signing the summit register we coiled the ropes to head down.

The exposure was awesome and the views continued to be incredible as we overlooked both sides of the ridge. More turquoise blue lakes, endless peaks and the sun low in the sky casting an ethereal light across the rocks. I was tired but in awe. I wanted to make it to the end of the ridge before dark so I moved quickly and carefully only stopping briefly to take it all in. Midway through the descent Darryl began to feel the altitude, dehydration and the toll of expending so much energy. He still waited for me at key points on the descent to be sure I knew where the path of least resistance was despite not feeling well. Underneath all the crass remarks “The Cobra” doles out there is a gentleman in there after all…

I was so grateful when we made it to the scree crossing just as darkness fell. I could tell I was tanking again, my legs so tired from all the hiking and my body lacking nourishment. I rolled up to the boys as they sat collecting themselves for the remainder of the descent and remarked how I thought that this whole endeavor was hard… like having a baby. Seriously, I felt so depleted at this point. I chuckled the next morning at this remark because yeah… having a baby is harder but there is so much similarity in being right up at your edge and bearing witness to the mind trying to throw you right off that edge into a free fall where you perceive yourself as powerless. But I think that is why I seek these experiences. To get as close as I can to that edge, right up against my walls and watch how in stilling the mind through movement, breathing to focus within and belief in myself I can watch them disappear as if they were never really there.  The freedom of choice is a powerful component in climbing. Whatever the edge is for you it doesn’t matter… local cragging to alpine endeavors… there is an edge to tip toe along… and walls to vanish into distant memories…. this is why I do what I do.

After my brief but clearly altitude affected spiritual conversation with the boys we rallied for the last segment of the descent. We crossed the scree under the light of the moon. I never turned on my headlamp and reveled in my imagination that I was in fact crossing the vast expanse of the moon. I kept pace with the boys as we stood on top of the final steep scree descent. Looking down I could only faintly make out what lay ahead in the soft moonlight. The slope continued down into the darkness and I could only make out on the horizon the peaks of the ridge behind our camp. I flicked on the head lamp and pulled myself together for the final push back to camp. It felt like that slope lasted forever and there were a few points as I felt my quads giving out and the trail turned to kitty litter on slippery slabs that I muttered I was nearing my wall. Thankfully, Blue, the “mountain pimp” that he is brought me back in an instant to the what, why and yes factor of what we were doing. The whole day was beginning to resemble riding an emotional roller coaster as vast and jarring as the gullies and peaks that surrounded me.

As I steered my head around the dirt ski slopes my head lamp finally caught a glimpse of the reflectors on a nearby tent back at camp. Silence was holding the group at this point as we were nearing the end of the days journey. Darryl popped some Vitamin I and crawled directly in to bed as soon as we reached camp. Toby-san, Blue and I went to the lake to retrieve water and nourished ourselves with some freeze dried morsels. I felt so high at this point… I think I must have mentioned to the boys that my body had the kind of buzz you have when you are coming on to hit of molly… they laughed because clearly I was jabbering away about this and that… it wouldn’t be difficult to imagine I had actually swallowed a little magic pill instead of having spent an entire day pushing my body to my max.

After a restless night of sleep I awoke with eyes that I couldn’t quite convince to open yet the high remained buzzing within me. As I ate breakfast I scoped out that last slope we descended in daylight… glad I didn’t have to climb up that…  then we packed to hike out. My ambition to bag Whitney that day had waned as I felt most satisfied by summiting Russell. Perhaps that is the next edge for me… multiple days, multiple summits and cultivating the mental focus to stay present for longer and longer periods of time right at my edge. I think that is where this is all moving towards… a special kind of ecstasy.

As we hiked out every once in a while I glanced back to see Keeler Needle and Whitney jutting up into the sky. I was still in disbelief that I had climbed a peak occupying that kind of airy space. So intimidating yet so inviting… I can now begin to understand what drives some people to these tippy top places in the world. There is so much entwined in these experiences … each thread deeply personal. Remarkable… truly remarkable.

With Gratitude and a Humble Heart seeking more alpine adventures…

 

 

 

TIME TO CHANGE

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Last weekend my routesetting BFF Steve and I took off to San Diego for a USAC Level One Routesetting clinic at Mesa Rim. Admittedly, I was a bit nervous to join this crew of burly 20 something setters for a weekend of pulling hard on plastic, pushing our movement limits and trying just a bit to dazzle our peers and mentors with the unthinkable. The unthinkable of course being the most intriguing from a creative standpoint and having 20 other people to witness and compare movement with opens the neurons up to many new electrifying possibilities. Our psych was definitely high and I was most definitely ready to leave starry-eyed and shredded with a few new tricks up my sleeve.

The clinic was presented by John Muse, chief routesetter for 2012 youth nationals and Ian MacIntosh, a USAC level 4 certified routesetter, two of the most experienced and talented setters in the industry. The days were broken into a day of ropes and a day of bouldering. Having never set on walls above 28 feet I was way psyched to conquer a 65 foot slight overhang to just off vertical wall for my rope masterpiece. Now… my favorite part of these clinics is the challenges that the presenters give you. They asked us to choose several constraints to work with and create from, with the obvious goal to push us out of our comfort zones and help us to discover something new about our routesetting process, movement and visual abilities. For the day I choose to work with compression/tension and a tape first methodology. In addition, my goal was to keep up with the other Mesa Rim setters who set on these tall walls daily and be sure to complete my route in the allotted time frame. I loaded and I mean loaded up my bucket with approximately 47 holds for this rope adventure. I used all but four in the creation of my route. I was exhausted when my feet hit the ground after so many one arm pull ups but so satisfied seeing the sweet long technical line that I had created.

At every clinic I have been to for routesetting one technique has been applied across the board… and that is that you do not climb at all while you are setting. No trying the moves…  just rely solely on visual dissection of the wall angles, the body in relationship to these angles, the holds that you have chosen and their orientation to each other and the body. It’s complex. It takes time to develop this skill but it has definitely pushed me to become a more skilled and more efficient setter and to be confident in my choices. The latter I realize as a has been my biggest learning curve. Maintaining and developing my confidence in my understanding of movement and allowing for mistakes and room for change when the tape I placed first doesn’t quite work out as I had envisioned. The super critic can come out at times like these and shut you off and down if you can’t be open to change, Not to mention in this forum where you have 20 other setters who are also pushing into these vulnerable spaces, stretching their limits… change is good. If you don’t like it… do something different… no big deal… that is what I tell myself to quiet the doubt and keep moving forward in my process.

After extensive forerunning of each others routes we tagged our climbs and awaited to see if wee would receive stars or sad faces from the members of Mesa Rim. You can see Steve here tagging his awesome overhanging jug haul… voted excellent for training new lead climbers on overhanging terrain. Nice Work Steve!  Last I checked with my Mesa Rim spies I had mostly stars and no sad faces… Yay!

Day two was boulder focused and more specifically focused on competition routesetting. Here is where the unthinkable really comes in as what divides commercial setting from competition setting is just that. Much of commercial setting has the purpose of emulating the outdoors and providing ways for climbers of all levels to learn new movement and skills where comp setting has become based more on creating movement never seen or experienced before. It is often very gymnastic or full of twisting and turning sequences so beta intensive it will make your brain twist into a pretzel just thinking about it. Again we worked with constraints and I told John point blank… do not allow me to be static and techy with my setting today… I want to push my limits till I fail. So I chose the antithesis of my climbing… dynamic, powerful and slopers. He kind of chuckled at me as dynamic and slopers was not going to be easy. We set solo for our first problem and after the basic skeleton was up I think my intended V4 was more like V7. But with a few helpful tweaks by John and the team I was working with we had a workable powerful problem with a few large slopers and sloping edges now at V4.

Next they paired us up for our final challenge. Partner setting gets me more excited than anything. I was paired with the only other female in the clinic, Rosie, who is also a setter at Mesa Rim. We went for dynamic again with the goal of setting a dyno. She had hoarded a set of sweet jugs from the first challenge and we used those and a shallow dihedral to create a badass category b girls competition route… complete with a dyno and tension-y work in the dihedral. There is nothing like setting movement with another talented setter, getting excited and letting the creativity run wild.

Following our setting frenzy, with tight time constraints, the forerunning process saw some twists. We were assigned groups again to work in with “mini-chiefs” who got final say for any tweaks. I crossed my fingers it wouldn’t be me… but I knew that I had asked for this lesson. To gain increased confidence in my forerunning abilities, to be able to communicate clearly and constructively with my set team and to stick by my choices. I have learned from being a headsetter that being at the creative helm and the one who decides where to take the team can be so challenging and make you feel so vulnerable.  All eyes are on you and when something isn’t right or someone isn’t happy then it is you they come to tear down. I have had to learn how to pick up the plastic pieces and just move on… change when it is needed or to just keep pushing forward until I am guided to go another way. I forced myself to be vocal, encouraging and inclusive with my team as the “mini-chief” but clear and decisive with our direction. It was a short exercise but it helped me to see new ways to critique and guide others in their creative process. What was most helpful was probably seeing how both John and Ian so masterfully communicated their knowledge for routesetting and lead the process openly and suggestively.

The clinic was absolutely worthwhile and Steve and I arrived back at Rockreation totally psyched not only for playing with the new skills we stashed in our own tool boxes but the opportunity to share it all with our community. Change is good. Even though change can often feel like wild exposure…  as we are not totally sure the creative force has driven us anywhere worthwhile, it still feels right to push up to our edge. We are climbers after all.

I am totally looking forward to the boulder set next weekend. To change things up in my own setting and hopefully provide a platform for others to do this as well and have it be inspiring, supportive and fun. Thanks again to John and Ian for keeping the wrenches of change turning in me and encouraging all of us to move forward regardless of any routesetting disasters along the way.

 

Hearts.

 

 

 

 

PS… Photos were not to great on this post… I apologize… Trying to figure out how to deal with gym lighting… work in progress… :)

THE INCREDIBLE HULK

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The Incredible Hulk… beautiful hunk of granite… completely deserved of it’s name. Yet another teacher who fortunately offered his teachings without strangulating me with overgrown green fleshed biceps. Instead the lessons were handed to me with phenomenal granite lines and an awesome summit view.

Naturally the hulk is one of those formations that truly catches your attention. Jutting out of the ground at 11,200 feet with these awesome sustained lines… A total YES! Two very close friends of mine decided it was their time to meet The Hulk and asked me to come with. With a week to get organized before meeting the unknown creature I had been so curious about I found myself a willing partner, handed over the kids to grammy and decided it was my time too…

However, I soon realized that this climb was going to require more of me than any other has before. You would think that as a trad enthusiast that I must have backpacked before, spent hours hiking in the wilderness with my life sustaining items in my pack but I had not. Although I had climbed long trad routes before this was going to be my first backcountry climb.

The initial psych simmered down a bit as I began to look at the routes extensively. It was all I could think about that week at work. I’d get butterflies in my stomach visualizing the pitches as I lay in bed in the morning. My partner, Hamik and I decided to either go for Red Dihedral (5.10b) or Positive Vibrations (5.11a) , two long classics on the hulk.

Normally the preparations would stop there. The routes picked out and away we go. About a day before leaving though I realized that while I felt confident about the climbing I certainly did not feel so confident about the whole backpacking endeavor. I messaged my team and explained that I had no clue about backpacking and no appropriate gear to possibly make a go at The Hulk. Now… yes… for those of you who are acutely aware of the voice of fear coming through I assure you that I was wrestling greatly between calculated risk and my fear of The Hulk’s meaty biceps crushing me down. I almost gave way and changed my weekend assault to something that I felt easier to conquer but as the universe would have it within a matter of 8 hours and not having to leave work I had acquired all the “gear” I supposedly needed. One advantage of working at a climbing gym I suppose… everyone has gear and everyone gets psyched on climbing… I take ease as a sign that something is a yes. So I messaged the boys and told them I was game on for The Hulk. Let’s do this.

We met up with Hamik at the Whoa Nellie grill on Friday afternoon. There was a keen sense of anticipation running through the group. Darryl and Blue had decided to definitely to go for Positive Vibrations and Hamik and I decided we would go for Red Dihedral first. We stopped in Bridgeport and overtook the gas station parking lot prepping our racks and packing our packs. I reviewed the necessity of each item noticing how minimal and light my partner was going to be. Hamik, now receiving his first endearing nickname was labeled “the machine”. He obviously had this type of endeavor dialed and now I had to focus on how I was going to keep up with a 20-something, solid, ultralight, badass climber and mountaineer.

We were on the trail by about 6:00 pm. A later start than we anticipated for the 5.5 mile hike in with 3,400 feet of elevation gain… This is where we accepted that some of the approach wold be in the dark. The approach was relatively uneventful except for an off trail foray through a grassy marsh, SWARMING with mosquitos, to which Hamik took his hand to Darryl to stop the incessant bitings on his ass and a slippery steep ascent through the nearby pines to regain the climbers trail. About 3/4 of the way through the approach Hamik realized that he forgot his harness in the car. In our collective moment of disbelief he stuffed a few bars in his mouth, handed me the tent and ran down the talus to go get his harness. He said to not wait up he’d meet us at camp in a few hours. I’m telling you… “the machine”.  We ended up near the base around 10pm and decided to camp in a grove of trees we assessed wasn’t quite where the actual camping area. A good nights rest before climbing seemed better than bush-whacking around tired and hungry.

Morning eventually came, Hamik was cozy in his bag next to me having retrieved the harness. I myself slept terribly, tossing and turning, feeling nauseous due to several factors including altitude and nerves I am sure. Once I was up and going and saw The Hulk in the morning light I got excited and awed that in a few hours I was going to be on top of that hulking mass. We ate and racked relatively quickly and made our way over the remaining talus to the base. Naturally “the machine” had me from the first step and quickly made it up to the first belay after scrambling the initial 3rd and 4th class ledges. I immediately put him on belay for the first pitch. We cruised the first couple pitches, swapping leads until we reached the bottom of the red dihedral. We caught up to the two other parties on the route which resulted in an hour long bottleneck as we waited for a go a the dihedral pitch. Hamik was up for the lead of the dihedral pitch which aesthetically lived up to the hype for sure. Long and sustained he floated up the climb, confident and effortlessly. Made the crux exit moves no problem for an inspiring beautiful lead. As I made my way way up the climbs namesake I enjoyed the perfect hand jams and the feeling of the massive dihedral surrounding me. As I pulled up to the belay and looked to my left we could see Blue and Darryl on Positive Vibrations. Darryl was hollering, “Fuck Fuck Fuck, 00 zero” in the thin stemming section of Pos Vibes… and after that outburst we didn’t hear another sound from them.

The next pitch was mine and began with an exposed step on to the face of the hulk. Love that exposed windy feel… especially on moderate 5.8 terrain. From there the pitches went down easily and relatively quickly. “The machine” and I kept on until I pulled over the summit ridge. Hamik ran over the 3rd class ridge and belayed me over for the final two pitches to the summit. Now on the topo there were several options. Due to another party being on the suggested finishing pitches Hamik opted for the “5.9 bad option” finish noted on the topo. A filthy hand crack into a short offwidth section and back into a leaning gritty double crack system. Actually a fun pitch of climbing which other than for the dirt we couldn’t understand why it was a “bad option”. From there was the final pitch through the birth canal. This proved to be the only squeezing the hulk was going to do that day and elicited some definite giggles from us.

We 3rd classed the last few feet to the summit of the Incredible Hulk. We met up with the other parties who were also friends of Hamik’s and had ourselves a summit party of Toblerone, airy views and big smiles. Looking around I was blown away by the view and all the untouched rock around us. I love thinking about all the untouched land… simply existing with no need to do or be anything.

After my little moment we began the initial down climb and rap to the scree gully descent. I labored my way down the scree gully as “the machine” basically ran down. It took me quite a bit longer than the others as I was not experienced with descending such an extensive scree slope. Once I made it to the talus where Hamik was waiting we made our way back to our camp. As we lay down after gorging down a huge supper and inspecting my mosquito bitten shoulders, which Hamik lovingly described as feeling like a teenager’s acne ridden face… we closed our eyes in the dusky light awaiting Darryl and Blue’s decent from Positive Vibes.

All week long I looked at this trip as a graduation for myself. After my only other long route ending in a an epic (a story I will tell you sometime) I was proud that the sun had not yet set when I rolled into camp.  I was pleased that I decided to stretch into my untouched landscapes and see what I would find. I think so much of trad climbing for me is about learning to trust myself and learning to tune into the voice within me that is my truth and my deeper knowing. As I noticed the voices of fear and nah-saying I was able to tune into a different channel…  The channel that knew this experience was an opportunity to reveal more of who I am and what I have to offer. Fortunately, I was granted with several partners on this trip that allowed me to comfortably go into this experience and gain an increased confidence in my abilities. Thank you Hamik, Darryl and Blue.

As I am sitting in my bed writing this, wondering if I shouldn’t be up and running off to work, I am pinpointing what it was about this trip that has inspired me so. What immediately comes to me is the word simplicity. The cap and gown mark of this trip is an understanding of just how simply life can experienced. Just like Hamik’s ultralight pack with only the bare necessities and the only option for breakfast being an energy bar… there is so much peace in that simplicity. Already my mind began racing this morning with “options”, what to do, where to go, what to accomplish first at work and I quickly remembered out there under the hulk away from the rest of the world that simplicity is what made the choice to move forward have a sense of ease and clarity of purpose. And so The Hulk proves to be a bastion of simplicity and peace and not the strangulating beast of suffering I thought he might be. As I sign off from this recounting of The Hulk I wil begin my day aligned with the energy of peace and simplicity as my guide. Thanks be to that granite giant, the Incredible Hulk.

Hearts.