rifle

After spending a week in the gym I was finally able to make it out for a few days. My first session at Clear Creek Canyon was relatively successful. After warming up on some of the longer moderate pitches, I made my way over to a route that I had tried years ago when I first began my sport climbing career. Ten Digit Dialing (5.12c) is a nearly vertical route whose popularity can be attributed to its incredibly specific crux sequence. Years ago when I first tried the route I was unable to do the majority of the crux (roughly a third of the climb) which involves navigating through quarter-pad, side-pull crimps and underclings that lead into a compression section on slopers. Things went much better this time around. I came incredibly close to sending the route while hanging the draws, but I fell short going to the positive holds that lead to the exit. After refining the sequence I was able to send the route on my second attempt. I was pleased to have made quick work of such an impressive climb. Ten Digit Dialing, while not the most demanding route, was a benchmark that allowed me to see how things have progressed over my four and a half year climbing career. I enjoy the challenge of making something that at first appears to be impossible seem effortless. I think that successfully making this transition is proof that when you stop making excuses and start working harder you will be rewarded.

With most of the day left, I turned my attention to another route that I had tried once last summer. Interstellar Overdrive (5.13c/d) is a Tommy Caldwell route that is situated on a beautiful, gently overhung bloc at the edge of the 90's Wall. As I recall, the majority of the route clocks in at 5.13a. A marginal rest from the three-quarter mark leads to a V8 boulder problem that tackles relatively small crimps that are quite far apart. Unfortunately, the sun began to move in and forced us to retreat to a shadier crag before I had the chance to tie in. Despite the failure to launch, I plan to make this a priority when I get back to Denver. The day finished with onsights of Slammer (5.12b) and The Great Escape (5.12c) at the Wall of Justice. Neither route was remarkable, but it was certainly nice to see that my fitness had not diminished entirely after a four week absence from the sport.


After a rest day, I got back on the road and headed to Rifle. Considered by most to be America's premiere sport climbing area, Rifle houses a high concentration of difficult routes within a one mile-long stretch of the canyon. I've often heard that Rifle requires a very specialized set of techniques to unlock many of the routes. After sampling routes between 5.10 and 5.13, I would have to concur.

Typically when I visit a new area I make it a point to try as many routes as possible in order to adapt to the environment quickly. This means that every attempt is generally an onsight attempt. I've often thought that I excel at onsighting, but it quickly became clear that onsighting at Rifle is a completely different game. The climbing is much more about manipulating angles, shapes, and body positions than it is about deciphering hand sequences and pulling on holds. I found that the moves in and of themselves were quite rudimentary, but learning how to make use of the blocky terrain took some time to figure out. Further complicating things is the fact that the limestone at Rifle has been so heavily trafficked that most holds are polished. I found it difficult to fully relax my grip as I would on sandstone, and as a result was plagued with a nagging pump that rarely relented.

Climbing in Rifle was humbling to say the least. At the end of my visit I managed to only onsight several routes between 5.11a and 5.11d. I can typically onsight 5.12+ and I even came close to onsighting 5.13a this past fall, so suffering on 5.12 was remarkably frustrating. I certainly don't think that Rifle is sandbagged. It just has a very particular style, and the approach to projecting here requires a different lens. Most climbers in the local scene, including Lynn Hill, reassured me that the learning curve at Rifle is steep. Ultimately I was forced to scale back my expectations in order to refine my technique. Despite not putting things on the board, I truly enjoyed learning a new climbing language. Coming home empty handed is never fun, but that's the great thing about climbing- you always get a second chance.


The bottom line: believe the hype. Rifle is amazing. I look forward to climbing here again when I return to the States.

Until then, I will be spending some time in Canada. Currently I am at 35,000 feet en route to Toronto, Ontario. It's been a chaotic week jumping between planes, trains, and automobiles, but I'm psyched to see my friends and to sample some of the climbing that Canada has to offer. I've been told that Lions Head is home to brilliant limestone and breath-taking views. In addition to the sport climbing scene, I'll have the opportunity to check out some of the recently reopened bouldering spots in the area. From what little I've seen from my friend's blog, the boulders look absolutely brilliant. I don't consider myself to be talented in this particular discipline, but I look forward to trying hard.

drops in a bucket

I have spent the last week acclimating to the scene here in Denver. While the climbing community is certainly larger than that of the Red River Gorge, it has been remarkably difficult to make it out to the crag. Conditions and full-time jobs are preventing most people from going out. After speaking with several individuals it seems that these conditions (80 degrees and no humidity) are not ideal...wait. What? Clearly they have never been to the Midwest or the Southeast.

To be fair, it did rain for three days. I have been reassured that I am not missing out on much. Local venues like Clear Creek, Boulder Canyon, Estes Park and RMNP would most likely be saturated and unclimbable. I suppose their regional acumen is more refined than my own, so I will trust their judgment.

As a result, I have been doing most of my climbing at Movement Climbing + Fitness in Boulder, CO. Normally I wouldn't condone such behavior, but the transition to pulling on plastic has not been difficult under the circumstances. Exceptional route setting in conjunction with the gym's layout and resources make it the obvious place to train. I typically spend the summer preparing for the fall season anyway, so I am excited to take advantage of such an impressive indoor facility.



It's nice to have a consistent climbing routine again. I am a firm believer that consistency over time determines the difference between an average rock climber and an exceptional athlete. Progressing in this sport is similar to filling a bucket with water one drop at a time. A few dedicated workouts a week certainly won't allow you to break through the glass ceiling next month. A few dedicated workouts every week for 52 weeks, however, will have an impact on your performance the following year. Patience and perspective are indispensable allies. Given enough time, the water level in the bucket will rise.

While it is certainly true that some individuals possess the genetic potential to advance quickly, the reality is that most of us are not as fortunate. Comparing yourself to other climbers is a dangerous trap that we have all fallen into at some point during our climbing careers. I think it's important to remember that once you've compared your abilities to another individual's, the only thing that you have succeeded in doing is making an elementary observation. Clearly there are stronger, more talented climbers out there. I think our time is better spent isolating personal weaknesses, developing effective strategies to target those weaknesses, and committing to a routine.

Over the years I've heard many people express a dissatisfaction with their performance or a desire to hit that new grade. The only thing I can offer is that it's time to stop talking and time to start working. The only way to get things done is to start.

reset

The clarity I began to discover during my stay in Kentucky has once again escaped me. I am struggling to articulate the very nature of my conflict, but perhaps it is best that I refrain from doing so. I would hate to subject anyone to such a raw, disjointed narrative.

I have been trapped in my head for so long that it has been difficult for me to communicate effectively. While I continue to write, my thoughts materialize in fragments. Much like being armed with a waning candle in a dark room, I can only catch glimpses of the objects that occupy the space. And, when the light inevitably goes out, I am left with a faint, incomplete image.


While solitude can liberate the intellect, it can surely torment the heart. Guilt, despair, and isolation have ravaged me for some time now. I continue to search for answers, but the process is exhausting and has yet to yield a single result. Even the reason for my voluntary incarceration is unknown. Amidst this graveyard of unanswered questions one thing is certain: I cannot do this any more.

It's time to hit reset. The trajectory of my life has changed dramatically and I have to accept that. This year has tested my resiliency, and it will undoubtedly continue to do so. People have reminded me that when it rains, it pours. I suppose I'll just have to play in the rain.


After a two week detour, I am resuming my search for clarity. To say that I am running away would be inaccurate. I am now in pursuit of something far more complex than mere self-preservation. While I am certainly not whole again, I hope to one day be.

I leave for Denver in the morning.

the game changer

I have, for the last two days, been suffering from an odd, inexplicable illness. Being that the symptoms were vague at best (fatigue, nausea, and loss of appetite), I concluded that a combination of rest and sufficient hydration would be the most appropriate and effective form of treatment.

I awoke late last night to find a message from my sister concerning my mother's health. While the message was cryptic, I feared that I already knew the nature of my mother's condition.

I emerged from my makeshift home, attempting to prolong the normalcy I had created for myself. I wandered between familiar spaces searching for the comfort inherent in such a routine. It was clear soon after it began that the search would bear no fruit.

I stood paralyzed, distanced from the community of which I had become a part. To be alone, surrounded by people is a paradox that only proves to intensify isolation. The life I had carefully cultivated to bring me back to center was being pulled away from me. I closed my eyes, hoping that if I kept them closed long enough that things would somehow change. But such tactics no longer work at my age. I knew this to be an exercise in futility, but putting things in perspective when one's emotions are involved is not an easy task.

Despite my trepidation, I packed the car and drove through the night to be with my family.

After driving 400 miles, my fears were confirmed.

Cancer is a penetrating, disfiguring word. It has the power to level even the most resilient personalities. I had been anticipating this news for quite some time, but I remained blinded by my own selfish pursuits. While I phoned home often, my mother's condition was never discussed explicitly. In my attempt to escape reality, I only managed to curb my sensibilities. Denial is a powerful force whose reach is intensified once it has had the chance to mature into something tangible.

The details of my mother's treatment have yet to be determined, and while my family remains strong, I am finding it difficult to follow suit. At my core, I believe that I possess a weak heart for such things.

Life has a cruel way of reminding us that you can only run away from reality for so long. And so, much like this story began, I am uncertain where these new events will lead me. While my transmission may lack consistency for the time being, it is by no means over. I will certainly do my best to keep interested parties aware of what has become our story. Until then, I hope this communication finds you well.

motherlode

Significant rain fall seems to be a recurring theme on the blog. Unfortunately, this post is no different. I suppose this is the rainy season here in Kentucky; it should no longer surprise me that the forecast calls for rain almost every day of the week.

Oddly enough, the rain has just recently caused a spike in humidity. The malefactor responsible for poor conditions this Spring is the fluctuating temperature. The temperature has been dropping quite low at night and rises quickly in the morning. This fluctuation rapidly condenses the moisture in the air, leaving many of the routes in the gorge unclimbable.

The Undertow
Photo by Gary Siu

The capricious nature of this climate certainly adds a different dimension to the hustle of redpointing projects. The pressure to perform is slowly creeping in simply because we don't have many opportunities to climb in sterling conditions. Even going to the crag is a gamble. It's not uncommon to wait all day for conditions that may never develop. Nevertheless, good vibes continue to prevail.

Even though we have nearly fifteen hours of sunlight, it's mostly spent waiting for what has been dubbed "the golden hour." The golden hour is the time of day during which a breeze moves in, the humidity dissipates, and the sun fades behind the clouds. We spend our downtime talking shop, rehashing beta, and discussing summer destinations until this brief window of opportunity presents itself.

While this approach doesn't allow for high mileage days, it does allow for a few successes. This past week I was able to check a few things off the list including Leave it to Beavis (5.12d), Convicted (5.13a), Forty Ounces of Justice (5.13a), and BOHICA (5.13b).

Convicted 5.13a
Photo by Gary Siu

Though I was quite happy to send Convicted (easily the best of the grade at the Red), I was pysched to have redpointed BOHICA. BOHICA tackles the savage steepness of the Madness Cave and clocks in at 100 ft. Fitness routes like BOHICA and Forty Ounces (110 ft.) are mentally taxing and physically punishing. It can be quite daunting to look up halfway through the pitch only to realize how much marathon climbing is left. I also found it quite challenging to cover so much ground knowing the consequences of punting late in the game. So much rock climbing to recall on point! Not only that, but the routes in the Madness Cave are so relentless that it is difficult to regain the physical stamina and mental fortitude necessary to redpoint. Often times, two attempts in a day are enough to cash you out for the rest of your session. Climbing in the cave is taxing, for sure.

The Madness Cave
Photo by Gary Siu

I generally dislike devoting multiple sessions to a single pitch, so I am glad that I was able to send BOHICA on my third overall redpoint attempt. I've lined up several projects since and it's a race against the clock to make them happen. The humidity that is characteristic of the summer season is oppressive and certainly makes it challenging to perform.

I've spent the last week climbing exclusively at the Motherlode, so I recently decided that a change of venue was in order. Yesterday I visited Drive-By Crag where I was able to give Kaleidoscope (5.13c) a reconnaissance burn. Conclusion: Kaleidoscope is without question the best sport route I have ever climbed. It is the quintessential line. The route ascends a beautiful prow and features powerful, committing moves from start to finish with only one rest at the halfway mark. Unabated, continuous, relentless! Hopefully I will have good news in our next correspondence.

On an unrelated note, in a previous post I accused a route called Swahili Slang of being the most sand bagged 5.12c at the Red. It was later brought to my attention that the route I attempted that day was not Swahili Slang. As it It turns out, the route I attempted was Take That Katie Brown (5.13 b/c) which has a reputation for being height dependent. Nevertheless, it is still a brilliant climb that I fully intend to return to.

team canada

Last week I was fortunate enough to find myself in the company of a group of climbers from Toronto, ON. Our relationship was forged during the unrelenting rain that plagued eastern Kentucky for two days. It is difficult to isolate the catalyst that begat such a stimulating friendship, but it’s quite possible that the context in which we met had far more to do with its conception.

It was refreshing to meet a group of people with such galvanizing personalities. My only regret is that our paths crossed so briefly. Certain personalities have a way of resonating with one another, and I think it is rare to find a group of people as beautifully composed as Team Canada.

Kacy Wilson, Gold Rush 5.11d

Katherine Smith, Gold Rush 5.11d

Gary Siu, Gold Rush 5.11d

It has been difficult for me to both ascertain and articulate the appeal of the Canadians. All I can surmise is that each individual possessed a delightful, dimensional personality. In addition to being talented athletes, I saw in each individual a great deal of compassion, thoughtfulness, and brilliance. It truly was a pleasure to meet such a charming bunch.

Jonathan Pencharz, Blood Bath 5.12c

The evolution of a social network is a beautiful thing. When relationships are formed organically they have the potential to alter your life in a profound way.

These new friends could not have come at a better time in my life. I find it remarkable that I was able to rediscover my personhood in the presence of new company. With their help, I was able to exhume the person who had once been buried underneath layers of emotional trauma and unremitting isolation. The confidence I have been seeking has finally returned and for the first time in months I feel as though I have regained my identity- for this, I am truly grateful to my new friends.

Bonnie De Bruijn, Mosaic 5.12c

I believe that it is the collaboration of identities that makes life worth living. I feel honored to have shared such an amazing experience with my new Canadian friends. I certainly look forward to seeing Team Canada in the future. Again, it was an enormous pleasure to have met you. Best of luck with your endeavors, ciao!

in the grip

After committing a full week to vertical mileage I decided it was time to switch gears. Armed with entry-level fitness, I made my way over to The Motherlode where I had my eye on a route called Swahili Slang (5.12c). Swahili Slang is a brilliant climb with several consecutive boulder problems that feature long pulls between good holds. After my first attempt it was clear that this route is not for those short in stature, nor is it for those that have a negative ape index. After doing some multi-pitch bouldering I determined that Swahili Slang may be one of the most sand bagged climbs at the Red.

Unknown Climber, Heart Shaped Box 5.12c/d
Photo by Aaron Stover

Dejected, I made a break for Buckeye Buttress where I was able to redeem myself by onsighting Stain (5.12c) and sending Heart Shaped Box (5.12c/d) on my second attempt. Both climbs are absolutely brilliant and feature cruel redpoint cruxes that guard their chains. It certainly was nice to put something on the board. Confidence has been quite low as of late, and for the first time in months I felt in control.

The following day I made tracks for Midnight Surf where I was able to dispatch Tapeworm (5.12d) on my second attempt and repeat Iniquity (5.12b). Three days later I returned and fired A Farewell to Arms (5.13a) second go. After spending two weeks in Kentucky, I have found my rhythm.

Aaron Stover, Cell Block Six 5.12c
Photo by Unknown

This new found rhythm allows me to thrive. The act of climbing has become therapeutic for me. It gives me the opportunity to escape from the linearity of reality and forces me to live in a series of isolated moments. In the grip, I don't think about onsighting or redpointing. I don't think about where the crux lies or where the next opportunity to rest may be. I only think about what I have to do at that particular moment. It allows me to retreat, if only briefly, to a place where complete control is ceded to me. It is in these moments of heightened awareness that I feel most alive. Putting up multiple hard pitches in a day or a week is a small accomplishment, but being able to thrive on those isolated moments that exist off the ground is truly remarkable.

The pursuit of this feeling is paramount to my welfare and I fully intend to chase it in hopes that my confidence will return.

Photo by Aaron Stover