slow and low

Last week I decided to end my season in the Red River Gorge by returning to an open ended project. Ever since I left the Gorge this Spring I've been looking forward to getting back on Kaleidoscope-  a spectacular route that ascends the overhanging arête at the far end of Drive-By Crag. In addition to being visually stunning, the route climbs incredibly well. Punchy, committing, and no fluff- altogether a very sustained route with only one rest near the half-way mark.

A predictable and an uninspired first attempt on Kaleidoscope gave way to a much more successful second go- one in which I was able to link through the crux on point. Needless to say, I was quite pleased with myself...until I realized that I had failed to pin down an effective exit strategy. When I tried the route earlier this year I was convinced that I would have no trouble reaching the chains after executing the route's crux (a long accuracy move to a hidden slot). It became abundantly clear, almost immediately, that I was terribly wrong. I found myself scrambling to stitch the last few moves together, but my desperate gambit proved unsuccessful. Regardless, I was happy with the day's progress and felt relatively confident that the route would go quickly.

An impromptu rest day slowed things down a bit, but the following day I returned to Drive-By for another go. On my preliminary attempt I was able dial in a method for the upper section. I took a short break, tied back in, and pulled on for the red-point. I punched through the first half of the route and reached the route's only proper rest in good spirits. I took this opportunity to both collect myself, and to contemplate what to do about the last two bolts.

Due to the aggressive nature of the second half, people unwillingly clip the second to last bolt (a bit dodgy) in order to make skipping the last bolt safe. Being no stranger to skipping bolts, this wasn't much of a problem. In fact, on my previous attempt I was able to clip the second to last bolt with relative ease. This time, however, I made a decision on the fly to skip the last two bolts. I really didn't want to fumble with a difficult clip; I thought it could potentially jeopardize my red-point attempt. I'm not really sure how I arrived at that conclusion, but I did and I committed myself to the plan. So, having purged the pump, I fired through the route's crux and began to tackle the forearm melting run to the chains.

Photo by Jon LaValley

Unfortunately, after pulling through the opening moves of the red-point crux, I found myself handcuffed- one move away from the short sequence of positive holds that would lead me to the anchors. I wasn't pumped. I wasn't scared. I was simply incapable of moving. Not at all capable of generating motion of any kind. I couldn't move. At all.
 
I was pinned between a slim chance of success and almost certain failure- 15 feet away from the last bolt I had clipped, and only a few feet from the chains. I was all but guaranteed to take a spectacular ride. As I shuffled my feet in order to make a move, I could see the rope swaying gently below me. This had never actually happened to me before. I can't recall a single time where I was unable to execute on point after skipping bolts. Not so great for the game face. 

And so, as you might have expected, I eventually pitched trying to make a move for the illusive pocket. I caught a lot of air- enough to consider and then reconsider my angle of entry multiple times. Despite a swollen ankle and a jacked up knee I was fine. I climbed back up the rope, finished the route (this time having clipped the second to last bolt), and lowered. After I untied I decided to retire for the day. Not really rattled, just disappointed. I thought it would be in my best interest to give the project a rest in favor of pursuing other ventures. I was also fairly concerned that I may have significantly impaired my mobility, and I was eager to get a hold of an ice pack.

Photo by David Pendon

Subsequent days were spent at Midnight Surf, The Solarium, and The Dark Side. While I had no particular expectations at Midnight Surf or The Solarium, The Dark Side did house my secondary objectives for the week- Mind Meld (5.12d) and The Return of Darth Moll (5.13b/c). After warming up on the nearby Padawan Wall, I began my session with an on-sight attempt of Mind Meld, a route with a reputation for being difficult for the grade. I was able make it through the opening boulder problem and the deceptive band of pockets that perforates the lower half of the cliff with relative ease, but got powered down trying to get through the last series of long pulls. After a short break I was able to send the route second go. I highly recommend it if you're into powerful pocket pulling and proper fitness climbing. 

After settling down from my recent conquest, I tied back in and gave The Return of Darth Moll a burn. Verdict: This route is savage- really powerful moves followed by burly fitness-based climbing. Similar in style to Elephant Man, but far more sustained and significantly cruxier. Just another reason why the Dark Side is my favorite cliff at the Red! As psyched as I was to make links, I decided to forgo a second attempt on the route. Somewhere along the line I had misplaced a considerable amount of skin. I knew that another attempt would only result in a greater loss. So, I packed my things and finished the day at Solar Collector with an exciting, try-hard on-sight of Ethics Police (5.11d).

With my visit coming to an end, I was faced with some difficult decisions. My session at The Dark Side destroyed my skin and I still lacked full mobility since my epic drop on Kaleidoscope. In order to put in worthwhile attempts on the project, I would have to forfeit two days of climbing. I knew my chances of putting Kaleidoscope together would be low if I didn't allow my skin to grow back, and taking the low road (climbing more days and racking up more pitches) didn't excite me as much as punching in for the send. The forecast for the remainder of the week was another hurdle. It appeared that there would be a slight chance of rain on game day. But I decided to gamble. I figured that I had come back to Kentucky for one route, and to walk away from it just because of a few obstacles seemed like a chump move. So I went to bed, relatively confident that I had made the right decision.

I awoke the next morning to gray skies, steady rain, and a dense mist hanging in the air. I was, of course, worried. I did my best to keep my head straight and spirits high, but I couldn't shake the thought that I had screwed myself. With that much rain fall I was unsure if the route would be dry. But not being one to roll over, I ran up to the cliff any way. A visual inspection suggested that the wall had picked up some moisture. After sampling the first few moves on Kaleidoscope, I began polling the other PMRP patrons (including a few who had been on Kaleidoscope). To my surprise, the consensus was that the climbing conditions were fine- unencumbered by the precipitation. It didn't make any sense to me, but I didn't want to waste time speculating.

I decided to warm up on the route and fell low on the route's first crux- a long move from improbable sloper to a sloping edge. After reaching the anchors I was confident that the route would go. The conditions were remarkably good, and my method for the upper bit checked out. My second attempt brought me painstakingly close the anchors- falling off the last questionable hold before the route opens up. I was able to reach to the summit on my third try, and while it was an anti-climactic end to an otherwise bizarre week of obstacles, I was relieved to have this project in the books.

Whitney Boland, Kaleidoscope 5.13c

Video by Mike Call

Now I'm back in Illinois- recovering and resetting. While I probably won't be back to take care of Golden Boy (5.13b), The Madness (5.13c), or Darth Moll (5.13b/c), I'm oddly okay with that- relieved even. As of late, I've found the process of projecting to be quite stressful. Walking the line that divides success and abject failure is something I've done with relative ease until recently. I've spent the last nine months traveling and climbing, and as great as the experience has been, I think I'm ready to for a break. I need to lay low, get my mind right. Don't get me wrong- I'm happy with the progress I've made, but I'm ready for a change. Sometimes priorities need to change, and sometimes you want them to change. I'll certainly continue climbing, but perhaps this time with no goals, no expectations, no stress- just back to basics.