Winter Reflections

Stretching the Legs

2012-02-01T19:26:00.000-08:00

The conditions over the last two weeks have been kind of strange here in Oregon. Heavy snows were followed by warm temps and rain, and then the following weekend clear skies dawned over Mt. Hood only to be joined by gale force winds. Kristin and I made the best of it and took the skis ... and the camera .. for a couple of walks up on "the mountain." Despite the weirdness, we enjoyed some fresh snow and a beautiful sunrise on Mt. Hood. Oh yeah, and some killer parking lot french fries. It ain't so bad . . .

Jaime and Anna under a rising sun


Corduroy tips

Kristin on the way up

parking lot french fries anyone?

Scratchin' the Itch

2012-01-17T22:27:00.000-08:00

Kim Crihfield on Taiwan On, 5.10c, Fourth Horseman, Smith Rock

This past weekend hopefully marked the end of the freakishly warm and dry winter conditions in Oregon and the Pacific Northwest. Pretty much everyone I knew was in the depths of powder withdrawal - a horrible affliction that causes irritability, anxiety and constant weather channel web surfing. There are few known cures, most of which involve long car rides, airfare, or very large doses of self-prescribed medication. Even with proper treatment, a patient's prognosis is uncertain until the very end.

Luckily, here in Oregon we have alternatives to western medicine. Ancient Chinese shamans realized about 30 years ago that careful application of sunny weather, bolts, and quick draws can free up the chi that is otherwise blocked by powder withdrawal. Yes, your family doctor my insist upon self-medication, but open your mind to non-western solutions that treat the underlying condition and not just the symptoms!

This past weekend, I experimented with this ancient Chinese secret, hoping to ward off the demons just a few more days until the next visit from the snow man. My treatment was carefully administered by several experienced friends, and based on my highly suspect, uncontrolled study, I am prepared to declare the Chinese traditions a moderate success.

After one session on Saturday, I experienced temporary relief from the otherwise debilitating symptoms of powder withdrawal. But, by Monday, I found myself once again chasing the fluff, shamelessly slipping my credit card through the lift ticket window, shaking in anticipation. Oh yes, the snow man had delivered, and I needed my fix.

And now, the snow man has tracked me down at my home, and as I look outside, I see the white stuff piling up in Southeast Portland. Oh will he ever stop tempting me? Can a quick fix cure this affliction? Did the Chinese ever try trad climbing? Life is a mystery.

But I sure had a great time last weekend . . .

Two more of Kim - with Nate Tack in the background working Crossfire, 5.12b

Alternative medicine at its best

Anna Sundholm on Honey Pot, 5.9, Picnic Lunch Wall, Smith Rock


Kristin receiving treatment

Ohhh ... the shame.

The Story of Blue

2011-12-20T23:09:00.000-08:00

The month of November brought torrential downpours to Portland, not the typical Northwest mist but a cold, driving rain that blew through the cracks of a jacket and soaked to the skin. Kristin and I would dart from our car to the door and then inside our warm house to be greeted by our two furry cats. During the summer, Maximus and Kiku despise the heat and often find a solitary retreat on a cold wood floor or in a basement corner. But as the temps cool off, they start to spend their nights on our comforter, snuggled into the crook of our knees or nuzzled under our chins. Slipping into a deep sleep to the sound of a fading purr is one of the great pleasures of life. A cold November rain makes it even better.

But this November, during the rainiest of nights, we awoke to a pained wailing outside our back door. Half asleep, I called out for Max, an aging scrapper and alpha male defender of his territory, only to find him curled up next to me. The little one was there as well. The meows were coming from a stranger in our backyard. I preened Max’s mane until he started purring and then rolled over and went back to sleep.

The bleating continued the next morning. I poked my head out the backdoor just in time to catch the stocky rear end of a gray blue cat scurrying into the bushes. Not recognizing the rump, I gave a little whistle and pretty soon our visitor returned, walking cautiously around the legs of our picnic table, keeping a safe distance from my advances. But this cat’s curiosity won out easily over this coyness. In a matter of seconds, he was motoring away while rubbing up against my shin.

Blue in Distress

This was no feral cat. He loved people, and he appeared to be well fed, but for the next several days he wouldn’t leave our yard. Each night, we would hear him crying, and each morning he repeated his flirtatious dance into the bushes only to return with a purr a few seconds later. After three or four days, we started to get worried and gave him a little food, which sealed the deal – this cat wasn’t going anywhere. The November rains continued, and each morning we would find him sheltered under the patio in our backyard. A day or so later, he was still there, and we began the search for his owner.

We started with a craigslist add but didn’t have any luck. Kristin managed to corral him into our cat carrier and took him to the vet to get scanned – no chip. He also hadn’t been neutered. Despite the fact that he was friendly, well fed and healthy looking, it seemed pretty obvious nobody was caring for him. We brought him home and named him Blue after his plaintive meows and his soft, dark fur.

Not sure what to do next, we made a few calls to various shelters and quickly found out that nobody was interested in a stray cat. We circulated a picture to our friends, hoping someone would offer to adopt Blue and give him a home. Running out of options, we enlisted the help of our friend Steph, a very compassionate vet with a soft spot for wayward kitties. Taking pity on Blue, she brought him in from the cold and gave him a thorough check.

At first we thought that a trip to the vet was a turning point for poor Blue, a way for him to get a clean bill of health (and a snipping) and possibly a transition into a humane cat shelter. But Steph had bad news – Blue tested positive for FIV (feline immunodeficiency virus). Although FIV positive cats can easily live long, happy lives, this diagnosis would severely limit Blue’s housing options. No outdoor activity – no other cats. The county shelter was likely to put him down. Nobody else was likely to take him in. He remained in Steph’s generous care, waiting in limbo for someone to come to his rescue.

Blue in Limbo

We continued our search on Blue’s behalf. Resorting to Facebook, we posted pictures of lonely Blue along with information on FIV positive cats. Lots of people responded with warm wishes but nobody offered to take him in. We called the few humane shelters that worked with FIV+ cats, and they had long waiting lists. We were stumped.

Finally, 2-3 weeks after showing up in our backyard, Steph texted me and said she might have found a home for our boy Blue. Her friend Clay had just lost a long-time feline companion and was thinking about adopting Blue. A day or so later, I ran into Clay at the climbing gym and extolled Blue’s virtues, gushing over his charisma and good manners. Clay remained undecided for the next week or so, leaving town on a trip and then finally returning to Portland as the November rains gave way to a long, stable December high pressure system.

I again saw Clay at the climbing gym, and this time he had good news. Coming back to Portland, he had been anxious to return to Steph’s practice, where he had visited Blue several days earlier. He missed him. The next day, he planned to bring Blue back to his house for an experimental visit. I kept my fingers crossed and silently hoped that Blue would behave and ingratiate himself to his new (hopefully) owner. Very thankful to both Steph and Clay, Kristin and I offered to welcome Blue into his new surrounding by stopping by with some Thai food for his most recent and hopefully new caregivers.

Unsure of what we would find, Kristin and I walked up to Blue’s new patio and knocked on the front door while peering in the little window. We saw Clay moving towards the door to let us in, but there was no sign of Blue. But as soon as the door swung open, there he was, looking up at us from the living room floor, curious to see who had come to visit. I greeted Clay and then bent down to scritch our boy Blue on the top of his head. In usual fashion, he started purring, arched his back and leaned his head into the friendly fingers, offering up different parts of his cheeks and chin for a little petting.

By the end of the evening, it became clear that Blue was perfectly at home in his new surroundings. He had chosen his favorite places – on the bed for a nap, next to Clay at the dinner table, or hiding upstairs in some forgotten place. He showed us his bad habits – crawling up on the table after we were done eating – but Blue reluctantly obeyed when he got scolded for being ill mannered. And as we were about to leave, Blue sauntered into the living room from wherever he was and offered his goodbye, along with a purr and a little head scratch.

Blue at Hone

So that’s the story of Blue. Unknown before our rainy backyard, his story, for the time being, has a happy ending. He’s found a safe home and a companion, and that is all a cat can ever want.

Late Fall Sun at Smith Rock

2011-12-11T15:41:00.000-08:00

Smith Rock - December 11, 2011

Here in the Pacific Northwest, we've been locked into a stable high pressure system for the last two weeks. The Thanksgiving weekend usually signals a switch to skis, but in the absence of mountain snow, recent conditions at Smith Rock have been excellent. Mostly clear skies, calm winds, and cool temps add up to great sport climbing conditions.

The last two weekends saw a small but stoked group of mostly local climbers enjoying the sun during a shrinking window of warm daylight hours. This shot is from a Saturday trip with Nate, fresh off more than a month of climbing in the desert, only to find more sunny stone back in Oregon. We had a great day of clipping bolts, but I'm still praying for a powder day!

Ski Stoke

2011-12-03T21:59:00.000-08:00

This is some of best ski footage I've ever seen. Check it out. It may be the best 5 minutes of your day.

Wilderness Peak Turkey Hike

2011-11-28T21:34:00.000-08:00

Over the holiday weekend, Kristin and I made our annual Thanksgiving pilgrimage to Seattle for a very indulgent and sedentary celebration with my family. Each year, we dream up cool adventures in the nearby mountains, but we almost always end up falling into a delicious pattern of beer, football and turkey with the family, topped off with the best apply pie EVER (thanks Mom!). If we're lucky, we manage to sneak in a hike or two to stretch the legs and force some blood through our otherwise clogged arteries.

This past weekend, we went out on Friday and hiked up Wilderness Peak near Cougar Mountain in Issaquah. Torrential rains let up for a few hours, and we enjoyed moderate temperatures and luminous afternoon sunlight filtering through the forest canopy. My sister's enthusiastic standard poodle joined us on the hike, and he made a fine model for the afternoon photo shoot.

And a few more of the day.

On Saturday, we took 6 teenage girls to the State Quad A Semi-Final game at the Tacoma Dome to watch their school - Skyline High - compete for the glory.

The girls had a great at a last minute squeaker. Go Spartans!

Magic Ed and his Mexican Blog

2011-11-09T15:46:00.000-08:00

Magic Ed's Project Pillar

As if I haven't spent enough time daydreaming about our recent trip to the Potrero, Magic Ed just posted a report from our climb on one of his unfinished projects.

He was nice enough to offer me the FA (probably .10d/.11a) of a brilliant pitch high up on a narrow pillar of limestone 6-700 ft above the canyon floor. He's tentatively calling it the Grand Pillar, but there's a still a pitch to be done to the top. Check it out.

El Potrero Chico PSA

2011-11-05T01:02:00.000-07:00

Jaime Bohle on the exposed 5th pitch of Snot Girlz, 5.10d, 7 pitches

Hanging out at the base of a limestone crag at Potrero Chico, I look down into the gravel wash, what qualifies as a road in this part of Mexico, and see two pickups with soldiers in the back driving upstream. A few minutes later, having turned around, I look again and see them driving downstream. And then they are gone – no flying bullets, no blood-filled gutters, no square groupers. I look up at the rock, see two other people on the wall, and decide with the crowds and all its time to find some peace and quiet. In 5 minutes, we’re in the wash – in 10 we’re in the Virgin Canyon with dozens of classic routes all to ourselves. Over the course of two weeks, that’s the only time we see el ejercito (the army) – but we wake up each morning to solitude, sunny weather, and a candy store filled with the sweets of climbers’ dreams.

Although the drug wars have been percolating in the borderlands for several years, the violence erupted in Monterrey this past summer. In July, a casino bombing rocked this historic city, killing more than 50 people. The mainstream media ran with the story, writing piece after piece about gang violence, shootings, murders, and disappearances. A country once known in the United States for Oaxaca, Cozumel, the Copper Canyon, and, in climbing circles, El Potrero Chico, now made people cringe in fear when hearing its name.

Kristin and I usually ignore overhyped warnings of disaster and violence, but we couldn’t help wonder just a little bit about what we would find in dangerous Mexico. Weeks before the July bombing, we were sitting in our house lamenting the fact that our Spring climbing trip had been scuttled by historically awful weather. We drowned our sorrows in a bottle of wine and started reminiscing about the memories we brought back from our April 2010 trip to the Potrero. By the bottom of the bottle, my persistent wife convinced me we should make a drunken, spontaneous decision to drop some miles on a two-week plane ticket to Monterrey. Goading me, she said, “Seriously, when was the last time you regretted pulling the trigger on a climbing trip?” I couldn’t tell if the wine had lowered my defenses or if I was swayed by her bullet proof logic . . . and golden locks. “Alright baby,” I said, “let’s go to Mexico! (wink wink)” My fingers manically massaged two free plane tickets from the internet before we called it a night.

The hangover wore off by the next afternoon, but doubts about the trip floated around in my head for weeks. We tried to recruit friends from Portland to join us in the land of drug lords, machine guns, and border busts. We tempted them with tales of thousand foot routes on perfect limestone, cheap beer, and friendly locals. We tried everything, but nobody would bite.

Finally, we found two suckers – Jaime and Jodie. I fed them every BS story I could come up with about how safe it is, how great it would be and how much fun we’d have. Much to my amazement, they believed it all! “Awesome,” I thought, “I’ll have someone else to give me a belay during Kristin’s rest days.” (All joking aside, we were super stoked that they came with us - awesome travel companions.)

When we deplaned at the Monterrey airport, we walked out the doors of the international terminal, and Magic Ed was there as promised. Shaking my hand, he offered to grab a bag and led us out the door, past some bored looking soldiers, and into one of what seemed like a dozen beat up old cars we saw him driving over the course of the next two weeks. An hour or so later, after listening to tales of unclimbed walls, the history of the Mexican currency, and the latest reports on the 5 or so gringo climbers currently in the canyon, we arrived at La Posada. Transport complete – hassle free. The local climbers were gettin’ down on a Saturday night, so we walked 100 ft to the local mini-super for a large bottle of Carta Blanca (the caguama) – cerveza! Welcome back to Mexico!

Esterlita and Estrellas Canyon, Mini-Super Wall, TNT Wall, and the Wave

The next morning, Sunday, we went climbing, and saw a few locals. The day after, we did the same and saw nobody. On Tuesday we went to the market. Then we climbed some more. And again. And again. There were, literally, four of us climbing in the entire park for the first couple of days. Then a few more Canucks arrived, and with their “eh’s” and “you knows,” it seemed like freaking rush hour (but they were all super friendly and cool).

Mamma perro

On Thursday afternoon, Magic Ed pulled into La Posada once more and dropped off Jaime and Jodie. Stepping out of the car, they looked up at 2000 ft walls of limestone, then they looked around at an eerily empty La Posada, and then they sat down in what looked like a state of shock. Weirdness. Yes, its true, we have this entire place all to ourselves – we’re the only ones here.

An unknown climber on an unknown route on the Mota Wall

For the next 10 days, it felt like we were looting the drug store. We did anything and everything we wanted. One day, the girls picked some lines to lead in the Virgin Canyon. The next day we climbed classic multi-pitch lines on the steep and shady walls of the front side. By the time we touched down, Jaime and I still wanted more, so we casually walked over to the Ripped Wall in the Virgin Canyon and plucked one of the best lines in the park. The next day we went climbing with Magic Ed (great guy!), another story for another time, laughing at the flurry of hand clippers and trimmed bushes that marked his progress up the long forgotten project. Each night, the four of us would cook up an awesome meal from the local market, drink a bunch of beer and make plans for the next day. By the end of the trip, my toes, my fingers, my feet – it all hurt. A satisfying pain. The pain of fulfillment.

Kristin on Tortilla Flats, 5.9, TNT Wall, El Potrero Chico

So here’s the PSA. It’s safe! Don’t believe the hype! El Potrero Chico is still amazing, and, in fact, it’s better now then ever before because there’s nobody else there! The asylum is empty!

What are you waiting for?! Get going already. The locals need your money and you need to go climbing. They’re good people, and you’re cheap, dirtbag climbers. It’s a match made in heaven. Now hurry up and get down there so you can start spending peanuts on the best climbing vacation of your life. In case you needed any other motivation, check out some of the images we brought back and drop me a line if you need some beta.

THE CLIMBS

The Sword, 5.12a, Estrellas Canyon

Photos by Jaime Bohle

Kooters and Scooters, 5.10d, Wonder Wall

Death of a Tradman, 5.9, Mota Wall

Snot Girlz, 5.10d, 7 pitces, Mota Wall

Hey Buddy Nice Shirt

Off the Couch, 5.10d/5.11a, 7 pitches Zapatista Wall

Photo by Jaime Bohle

Permanent Vacation, 5.11, Mileski Wall

Tortilla Flats, 5.9, TNT Wall

Yankee Clipper, 5.10b, 13 pitches, The Jungle Wall

The Jungle Wall - Scrubbed Lines from Right to Left - Black Cat Bone, Space Boyz, Yankee Clipper, Jungle Mountaineering

Don Quixote, 5.11d, Virgin Canyon

Pancho Villa Rides Again, 5.10c, 5 pitches, Mota Wall

Unfinished Business with Magic Ed, Ungraded Route, Undisclosed Location

THE PLACE

Friends at the Market

THE CRITTERS

First Tine in 20 Years They've Seen Bears in the Potrero

Potrero Chico Teaser

2011-11-01T14:51:00.000-07:00

Less than 48 hours after returning from my second trip to El Potrero Chico, all I can say is wow! The first trip was so memorable, I tried to keep my expectations in check, but EPC delivered again. Here's a teaser - there's more to come.

Jaime Bohle on Death of a Tradman, Mota Wall, El Potrero Chico

The Faces of Occupy Portland - 10.9.11

2011-10-09T19:52:00.000-07:00

The Faces of Occupy Portland - 10.8.11

2011-10-08T16:47:00.000-07:00

The Faces of Occupy Portland - 10.6.11

2011-10-06T23:55:00.000-07:00

In the Menagerie Wilderness

2011-09-27T23:51:00.000-07:00

1. a collection of wild or unusual animals, especially for exhibition

2. a place where they are kept or exhibited

3. an unusual and varied group of people

What else would one expect to find in a "menagerie" but wild places and wild people? On my first trip to this Oregon wilderness, I was lucky to experience both - along with some pretty cool climbing.

Our friends at NW Alpine organized the little outing along with some highly suspect local dirtbags. We climbed, we told stories, we fell asleep in the dirt and awoke in the rain. We ate salsa and drank tequila. And we just barely scratched the surface. I think I'll be back.

Pitch 1 of South Rabbit Ear

Panorama Point from the Summit of South Rabbit Ear

An Unusual Animal on the Summit of South Rabbit Ear

A Place Where the Wild Animals are Exhibited

The Return to Smith Rock!

2011-09-19T21:00:00.000-07:00

The Smith Rock Group

When we first learned to climb, Kristin and I would make the trip to Smith Rock just about every weekend, looking for little slices of adventure in different corners of the park. We'd pack up the car on Friday night, drive up and over Mount Hood and then down into the High Desert, pulling into secret (or not so secret) camp spots in the dark. Straight through the hottest months of the summer we'd spend every weekend in the desert heat, rotating around the towering cliffs opposite the sun in search of shade and friction.

Over the years, we've drifted off to other climbing objectives and haven't spent very much time in the park. But we're lucky to live in Portland, so close to a world-class climbing destination, and in the back of my mind I always know we can hop in the car and make the same Friday night drive down to the land of nubbins and bolts.

With a trip to Potrero Chico on the schedule and iffy Fall weather in Portland, this was the perfect weekend to return to Smith! A bit later this fall, I'll hopefully be climbing crimpers and clipping bolts on Mexican limestone - might as well get in some training at Smith Rock.

Saturday

A long absence from Smith helped us look on the climbing with fresh eyes, but we also had a little extra inspiration - Alan Watts' new climbing guide! The original was one of the best guidebooks ever written, from the incredible topos to the history of the climbing scene and the useful information for visiting climbers. But the new guide is even better. After 10 minutes thumbing through the glossy color photos, I already had a handful of new ideas and new areas to check out.

Unfortunately, I also had a swollen hand of misery from a nasty hornet sting two days earlier. Check out those greasy mits! Yeah, that should make crimpy face climbing real easy.

Inflate-a-Hand - My new off-width technique

On Saturday, we climbed on the West Side to avoid the crowds and the sun. Just after dropping over Asterisk Pass, we rounded the corner and located Benedictine Punk on the Christian Brothers. Kristin led Punk and then redpointed Innocent Victim (.10b) after a try or two. Well done! She was stoked and ready to hand over the sharp end.

Checking the handy new guidebook, I noticed a long line of bolts leading straight up the vertical headwall above the anchors for Punk ... hmmm. Holier Than Thou (.11b) - supposedly stellar climbing on steep jugs! Sporty sport climbing - guess I have to get back into it at some point.

On my first go, I was too tentative at the crux, poking around with my toes, unsure that my feet would stick. I lowered off, somewhat frustrated, but while I was belaying, that frustration turned into a mini-obsession. My brain started playing back each move, stitching together hold after hold into a smooth sequence. By the time Kristin was halfway up the pitch, I knew I had to climb it again.

After she lowered off, I pulled the rope and tied back in. Above the lower angle slab, I paused before the steep headwall and listened as my heart beat slackened just a bit to a steady pace. After a couple of centering breaths, I moved through that same sequence I had envisioned in my mind straight through to the anchors. I clipped the bolts, sat back on the rope and looked around at Monkey Face teetering over the Crooked River, the Sisters in the distance, and little nubbins sticking out of the welded tuff 200 feet above the desert floor. Woohoo!

After a few minutes, my perma grin started to wear off just a little bit, so we moved on in search of more climbing. Walking past the base of Spider Man, we noticed that nobody was on the route. We looked at each other, kind of shrugged our shoulders and thought that would be a great way to finish off the day.

Kristin led the first pitch and I swung through into the absolutely fantastic finger crack and then into the juggy, exhilarating roof moves to the top. We enjoyed a few peaceful moments of solitude overlooking the river before making the 5 minute descent back to the packs where a group of climbers were laying siege to the route. A nice end to a great day back at Smith!

Kristin Lounging at the Belay on Spider Man

Sunday

Sunday brought hotter, sunnier weather, but I wasn't so keen on going back over to the West Side, so we went to the Phoenix Wall hoping to catch some late morning shade. After a quick warm up on Phoenix (.10a), always a crowd pleaser, I gave a go at License to Bolt (.11c). Ouch! Seriously - the crux crimpfest between the first and second bolt is a brutal sequence. Boo! Hiss!

After flailing on License, we walked down the wall and found Blackened (.11d), another newish climb profiled for the first time in the updated guidebook. I had actually been on this climb once before a few years ago on a top rope. I remembered the cruxy sequence over the roof but then forgot how to negotiate the face climbing on sharp pockets below the anchors. I was also somewhat confused by the guidebook's recommendation to stay left after the 5th bolt, because every other person I've ever see climb this route has followed the right trending crack system until its end. Strange.

In any event, I blew the first lead, lowered off and then gave it a go on TR to look at the left hand variation. After that I felt smoked, so we packed up, walked back to the Phoenix Wall and climbed a couple of more pitches with a bunch of friendly folks who were all hanging out in the shade and sharing ropes. After some fun climbing and socializing, we called it a day and made the evening commute back down along the Crooked River and up the desert hillside to the waiting car.

Ahhhh ... good times and sooo close to home. I'm so thankful that we have a place like Smith Rock in our backyard. The climbing is incredibly varied and challenging no matter what your focus is - you can always find something new or you can return to your old favorites and put it on cruise control. I can't wait to go back!

More on the Suffering

2011-09-02T18:04:00.000-07:00

The Cleanest Line just posted an evocative piece by Kelly Cordes on the noble attraction of suffering, which has preoccupied my mind since returning from Gunsight. Check it out.

Nate Tack mid-suffer Photo by Jaime Bohle

Reflections on the Gunsight Range

2011-08-31T21:09:00.000-07:00

Climbing trips often take on new meaning a few days or weeks after the return to civilization. Sometimes the most successful trips paradoxically elicit a bout of depression, a casting about in the drudgery of every day life. On the other hand, the failures, and even the semi-successes, if coupled with the right amount of sheer suffering, can somehow seem in retrospect like a good time – maybe even a good idea! A few days and a few hundred miles can change the perceptions of an intense experience.

So it is with my recent trip into the Gunsight Range of the North Cascades, a remote ridge of granite in a wild and committing setting. 36 hours after getting back to Portland, I pulled off my socks in a hotel room in Detroit on the 45th floor of the Marriot Renaissance. I looked down and saw swollen ankles bulging over the tops of my shoes. As I peeled away my black dress socks, I revealed track marks in my skin, where my legs had swelled around the confining mesh of the material.

My feet didn’t hurt, but they looked like I might flip upside down and float away. Nasty cankles.

At that moment, it was difficult to remember the auspicious start, the scenic boat ride down Lake Chelan. The tasty stop in the Stehekin bakery on the way to the trail head. The 9-mile hike on a clean trail through amazing old-growth forest. The warm fire at a campsite nestled up against the banks of Agnes Creek, a pristine river.

Nate and Jaime at a creek crossing

Good times during the walk in

A warm firm amongst the old-growth

Instead, all I could remember was the suffering on day 2 of the approach. The endless bushwhacking through dense thickets of vine maple. The thick clouds of hungry black flies. The dehydration.

Mid-schwack

But eventually, the swelling in my cankles receded, and as my conference in Detroit progressed, my mind focused more on the adventure and the climbing and less on the suffering. I started to think more about the beautiful landscape, the solitude, the clean granite (which we got to experience in short bursts), and good times with good friends. A stark contrast with the urban decay of Detroit. Yeah we suffered, but it was so fun! I was lucky just for the chance to visit this place.

Post-schwack bliss

Yeah the views

Now, after a week, I think back and remember rainbows and ponies and how much fun I had freezing my ass off before rappelling in the rain down a lose, dirty gully into a ten foot moat. My mind zooms in on the 20 feet of amazing climbing, ignoring the torrential rain storm and 3:30 am wake up call for the 3000 ft. death march to the valley floor. I reflect fondly on the storm that caught us 50 ft from the summit, how much heavier my wet backpack was on the 10 hour hike out, and how much better it carried with a broken suspension system. Now that I’m back, and warm, and dry, and a long way from those freaking mountains, the whole trip seems like a blast!

Despite the suffering and the shenanigans – the navigational challenges and bushwhacking – the insects, and rain and … well … Nate’s stench in the tent (sorry dude) – we did manage to get some climbing in.

Climbing Day # 1 saw Nate and I on the South Ridge of South Gunsight – aka the Canon Hole Route. The route was short (theme for the trip), but the climbing was fun and airy. Once on top of the ridge, we negotiated two very delicate sections requiring us to step from one tower to the next across an exposed gap in the rock. We summitted South Gunsight and met up with Doug and Jaime who had scratched out a route on the northeast-ish face of South Gunsight.

Looking back on the South Ridge of South Gunsight

On the Ridgeline

Nate at the one rappel on route

Nate enjoying the diving board summit of South Gunsight with Middle and North behind

Climbing Day #2 brought us to the East Face of Middle Gunsight, III, 5.10d. We had read reports that this was the best quality rock in the entire North Cascades – this one route right here. We were stoked to check it out.

Morning Approach

On the approach

The Moat

The day before, Doug and Jaime had scoped out the first pitch. The descriptions we had read started at the base of the East Face of Middle Gunsight, which would require a carry over of our axes and crampons for the descent. Instead, we started at the base of the notch between Middle and South. This alternative start allowed us to leave the gear at the base and climb relatively unencumbered on the high quality rock.

Jaime Starting up the .10b Double Cracks of Pitch 2

Nate Low on the Route

From there we got into the business. Nate did a great job on the .10b double cracks, working up the insecure crux right off the deck. From there, I swung through into the .10c corner, up the flake and then through the exciting .10-ish mantle out right to a ledge. Note – save something bigger than a tipped out red master cam for the mantle move. Exciting! Nate got the .10a hand crack and then I pulled through the strenuous but beautiful .10d finger crack into the tight hands splitter.

From there the shenanigans started. We had a bit of trouble figuring out the traversing pitch because of two big, scary looking flakes that threatened to take out the belay station. It took us awhile to suss this out, and by the time we got across to the ridgeline, bad weather had moved in. Doug led up the summit ridge moving through airy terrain in very suspect weather. When he found a rappel station about 50ft short of the summit, it was raining steady, and we decided to rap off rather than play lightning rod to the gods. One double rope rap brought us to the notch between Middle and South Gunsight. One more nasty, loose, dirty, muddy and cold rap deposited us in the moat at the base of the notch.

Nate in a fog

Jaime rapping into the soup

Getting silly in the rain Photo by Doug Hutchinson

Thankful to be off the mountain in one piece, we packed it up and hightailed it back to camp in the rain. By the time we rolled in, it was late. We had originally planned to knock out half the return trip that afternoon but decided instead to wait out the storm.

It rained hard all night but finally let up at 3 am, just 30 minutes before our wake-up call. We loaded our soaking wet kits into drenched packs and started downhill. After a hellish 6-7 hours on the descent, we finally made it back to the trail, but still had 9 miles to go to catch the last bus of the day at High Bridge. A brutal speed hike ensued but we made the bus, caught a sweet flight back down Lake Chelan and rolled into Portland at around 1 am. Whew!

Nate on the Flight Down Lake Chelan

Don't Tell

Less than 24 hours later I boarded a red eye bound for Detroit. Instead of a vast wilderness and three good friends, I looked out on a sea of strange faces all destined for somewhere unknown. As the plane took off, my mind drifted back to Gunsight, and the transformation had begun.

Resources

For more info on the Gunsight Range check out:

Mountain Project

and

Cascadeclimbers.com TRs

And here's a little more eye candy to tempt you into the suffer fest.

Mt. Adams - SW Chutes

2011-07-12T21:21:00.000-07:00

The best medicine for withdrawal is a quick fix. After returning from 10 days of climbing in California, I was still jonesing for more mountain time, knowing that the deep Pacific NW snowpack was making for some amazing summer ski conditions.

Jaime had planted a seed a few weeks ago, suggesting the SW Chutes on Mt. Adams for the weekend after my CA trip. Zach jumped on board, and by Saturday evening, we were driving through Trout Lake on the way to Mt. Adams.

The road to Cold Springs was snowed in about 2.5 miles from the trailhead, creating a total zoo of parked cars, crooked tents, potholes and tired skiers. We bivvied under a tree and woke up to beautiful conditions hitting the trail at about 6 am. I'll let the pics do the rest of the talking.

Climbers and St. Helens at the Lunch Counter

Climbers Approaching the Lunch Counter with Mt. Hood in the Distance

Dogs, Kids, and Snowboarders - What a Zoo!

Jaime Cranking the Jimmy Buffet and Dreaming of Margaritas

Your Truly Dropping into the SW Chutes - Photo by Jaime Bohle

Jaime Carving Corn

Looking Down the Chutes

3000' of Corn!

Lover's Leap

2011-07-09T09:16:00.000-07:00

Lover's Leap

After a few days in the backcountry, we decided to spend the rest of the our week in the friendly confines of Lover's Leap near South Lake Tahoe. With beautiful camping, impeccable rock and 4-600' routes, we could take the foot off the gas pedal a bit and still enjoy some fun, airy climbing.

The days were hot, but we still managed to climb - mostly in the morning and the evening with a brief siesta in between - the luxury of camping a mere minutes from the base of the wall. I'll let the pictures do the rest of the talking.

Kristin on the The Line

Kristin Leading up Knapsack Crack

Climber Nearing the Second Belay on Knapsack Crack

Traveler's Buttress

Looking Back Down the Crux Pitch on Traveler's

Kristin at the Start of the Third Pitch on Traveler's

An Unknown Climber Clearing the Classic Arete on Traveler's

Unknown Climbers on the Lower Buttress

Looking Back Down the First Pitch of The Groove

Hospital Corner

On Top of Corrugation Corner on the Evening of the Last Day

Tools of the Trade

And finally, after a week of climbing, our bodies started to show a few signs of wear. Be forewarned - the following pictures are graphic evidence of the trying moments we experienced during our week long Anniversary climbing trip in the Sierras.

Kristin Sleeping Off a Climbing Hangover - The Afternoon Siesta

Kristin Proving You Can Sunburn the Top of Your Hands - Makes the Hand Jam Rather Painful

And Finally - Chris' Feet After a Week in Rock Shoes - Hide the Kids!

Anniversary on the Moongoddess Arete

2011-07-08T23:21:00.000-07:00

Moments of uncertainty - miles from the trailhead. High up on a route with the mountain all to ourselves. Casting about in loose, vertical terrain looking for the supposed 3rd-4th class ledges. A striking alpine arete, towers of granite, wildness - the John Muir Wilderness. What better way to celebrate our 7th Anniversary? The Moongoddess Arete.

Each year, by the end of the Spring, I start to daydream about long, alpine routes on granite peaks - remote objectives offering solitude, altitude, and vertical terrain. I'll lie in bed, rifling through guidebooks looking for promising route descriptions. Ideas get passed back and forth with friends. Prior failures push back into my consciousness, tempting me with redemption. Motivation. Anticipation.

This year, Kristin and I set aside a week of vacation leading up to our July 4th Anniversary. We had no firm plans - no plane tickets - no reservations. We were headed wherever the conditions were good. Heavy winter precipitation left much of the the granite in the Cascades under a deep blanket of snow and ice, and the weather pattern was still unstable. Where should we go?

We finally settled on the Sierra Nevadas in California. I had originally wanted to sample the iconic alpine domes of Tuolumne Meadows, but record snowfall meant that Tioga Pass Road opened only a few days before our trip was supposed to start. The bigger and more remote routes seemed unlikely to be in condition. We were worried about long, snow covered approaches, wet slabs - or being limited to roadside routes.

But the Sierras are a big range with lots of options. The Meadows were still snowed in, but I spent a few days in April on the east side of the range. I got a sneak peak at some granite spires in the Sawtooth Range, and a couple of weeks later, some friends spent Memorial Day down near the Pallisades. I knew the long routes on the east side would be mostly dry by the end of June.

And, best of all, I had always fantasized about climbing the long aretes of Temple Crag. An objective.

Temple Crag Towering Over the First Lake

With a plan in place, Kristin and I left Portland on Friday after work and then drove through Yosemite from the west side on Saturday afternoon. After spending more than an hour in a National Park traffic jam, we finally managed to get into the park and then up into the Meadows. By 2:30-3 in the afternoon, we finally pulled up to Stately Pleasure Dome with the intent of climbing West Country, a moderate, 4-pitch route on bomber Tuolumne granite. Feeling like pent up animals, we screeched to a halt, jumped out of the car, and started flinging climbing gear in all directions. An old timer walked up and asked us if we were headed up on the rock in the afternoon - "lots of people die every year up there." Ok thanks. That's helpful. I offer up - "yeah, that's what the ropes for." We get racked up in 10-15 minutes and then we're on it.

The climb goes well, and we're back at the car in 3+ hours and headed towards Tioga Pass. We drop down the east side towards Mono Lake, hang a right on 395 and jet towards Big Pine. We drive through Bishop, the sun drops behind the peaks to the west, and we finally roll into the beautiful campground at the end of the road in Big Pine canyon. Ahhhh ... exhale ... peace. A hectic 24 hours.

The next morning we load up the packs and start the 5 mile walk up to Temple Crag. We planned a pretty leisurely schedule - one day in - one day to climb - and a day to walk out. The walk in was sublime. The mountain offered us a magnificent greeting upon our arrival at the Third Lake.

Temple Crag and the Dark Start Buttress

We fell asleep with the anticipation of a big day on a big mountain. We woke up the next morning to more amazing views.

Alpenglow on Temple Crag

We got a fairly leisurely 6:30 am start from camp, headed up the remaining snowpack towards the route.

Kristin on the Morning Approach

The Moongoddess Arete

The route gains the rock from the big snow tongue on the left. We then traversed ledges around to the left until out onto the nose of the buttress. From there, we climbed about 1000 feet, passing the first tower on the right and then down to the notch behind.

Kristin with the First Tower Behind

Kristin Barely Visible at the Notch Behind the First Tower

Once past the first tower, things got a bit more interesting. We attempted to pass the second obstacle - the Ibrium Tower - on the right. We had a difficult time finding the supposedly easy 15-20 foot downclimb to 3rd and 4th class ledges. Instead, we puzzled over steep, imposing terrain with gut wrenching exposure between us and the neighboring ridges.

Looking Over at the Sun Ribbon Arete

I knew the climbing was supposed to be technically easy, but the rock was loose, the route was inobvious, and we were in no fall territory. After a couple of false starts, I paused for a moment to consider our options. Bailing from 1000' up would be a humongous, time consuming and dangerous ordeal. We were slowly starting to run out of time. Up was the best option - but first we had to go down - and then sideways. So off we went.

After a deep breath, we pushed on and gingerly picked our way around the imposing tower on down sloping holds on questionable rock with even more questionable protection. We were clearly off route, too low and below the traverse, but I could see what had to be the third class ledges above us. Ten feet of vertical, run out climbing and I'd be there. I paused in the middle of the moves - pulling sideways on a crumbly rib of rock - checked my feet - and pulled through.

After another loose pitch of rubble and a scary belay perched on the very top of the arete - but completely buried under a giant chockstone - we finally unlocked the route and continued up the ridgetop. After a few more wandering pitches, we finally topped out.

Kristin Topping Out on the Moongoddess Arete

With time and daylight running short, we passed up the summit and instead set off down the mountain with the hopes of reaching safe ground before nightfall. But we did get some nice views.

The Pallisades

It only took an hour to scramble down to the one rappel, where we were promptly greeted by howling 50 mph winds. A difficult rap landed us at Contact Pass, and then we were finally able to relax and enjoy soft plunge steps in the fading light.

Kristin Descending from Contact Pass

More Plunge Steps

After another hour, we were only 300 ft from camp. But after 14 hours on the move, a twilight stream crossing presented the last obstacle.

The Stream Crossing

A test for tired legs. We cleared the logs and finally lay down in the safety of camp. The next morning we packed it up and walked our way back to the car - happy and at peace in the playground of John Muir - the wilds of the Sierra Nevadas.

On the Descent

Unforgettable

A Final View

Back at the Car

Desert Days

2011-06-20T18:44:00.000-07:00

With more rain in the forecast, Jaime and I escaped over the Cascade crest to the desert of eastern Oregon. The drive paid off with sun, perfect temperatures and a seldom visited crag lined with splitter cracks. Another excellent day of climbing!

The Tieton Valley

2011-05-30T23:09:00.000-07:00


Onie on The Western Front, Tieton River Valley

Lane Peak - The Zipper Ski Descent

2011-05-24T23:26:00.000-07:00

Improvisation . . . on the fly. A washed out climb/ski of Mt. Rainier turned into a soggy descent of Lane Peak in the Tatoosh.

The original plan had Jaime and I climbing in Tieton on Saturday, meeting Doug and Alex in the parking lot of Paradise on Saturday night, and then climbing/skiing Rainier on Sunday. Things didn't exactly go as planned. On Saturday, we got in one pitch of climbing at the Bend before getting rained on and retreating to the car.

From there, we hightailed it to Packwood and spent the next couple of hours drinking beers with the locals in the Blue Spruce. After a quick nap in the parking lot, we met up with Doug and Alex, drank some more beer and then got chased off by Johnny Law. On the way back down the mountain, Lane Peak emerged from the clouds, and we laid a plan for the next day.

Lane Peak and the Zipper Couloir in the middle

After a late start and a later breakfast, we left the car in the Narada Falls parking lot sometime after 10 am in a light mist ... or maybe a steady rain. On the way to the summit, the rain finally turned into snow.

In the Zipper

After a pretty quick bootpack up the couloir, we turned the corner and headed up towards the summit.

From the top of the Zipper looking up towards the summit.


Jaime climbing up to the summit ridge

From the ridge, a cool traverse led up some steep snow to the summit.

From there, it was all downhill - in the mush. It was kind of like skiing wet styrofoam balls. But it was definitely fun!

Doug dropping the top of the Zipper into the fog

The exit.

All in all a great weekend! Sometime you just have to make the most of what you're given. Here's a little video stimulation to hold you over until your next weather window.

Lane Peak - The Zipper from Chris Winter on Vimeo.
Some unedited video from a ski descent of the Zipper Couloir on Lane Peak

Eastern Sierra Ski Junket

2011-05-24T21:43:00.000-07:00

Torrential winter rains in the lowlands pay off with a deep spring snowpack in the mountains. I've been holed up with my head down for a few months, but I recently lucked out with a fantastic weekend of spring skiing in the Sierras.

I've been messing around with video recently, so instead of the usual photos I'll offer up this amateur hack job. You gotta start somewhere.

Easter Sierra Corn Fest from Chris Winter on Vimeo.
Amateur nostalgia from a memorable spring ski trip to the Eastern Sierras.

Mt. Hood Backcountry Turns

2010-12-20T20:10:00.000-08:00

I spent a great weekend searching out turns in the backcountry around Mt. Hood this weekend! Here' s a little footage to inspire your next tour! Go get some.

Pocket Creek December 2010 from Chris Winter on Vimeo.

The Desert Diaries - Epinepherine to Big Sur

2010-12-05T15:31:00.000-08:00

Epinepherine

After a great day skiing the Mt. Hood backcountry, I finally have the time and motivation to finish up the report on our month-long road trip through the desert southwest. I’ve been home almost three weeks, and new memories of Cascade powder turns have started to push aside slightly older memories of sandstone walls. Before the trip began, I knew in the back of my mind that we would be returning to Portland just as the ski season was ramping up, thinking that the anticipation of fresh snow might help my re-entry into the day-to-day. Well, sure enough, it’s snow time! So I better finish up the report on our trip so I can move on to colder and fluffier pursuits.

After six days at Indian Creek, we drove back to Moab to reload. Our original plan was to head back to the Creek for two more days of climbing, but over breakfast at the Wake’N’Bake we pulled up a forecast, which called for cold, wet weather. Vegas, on the other hand, looked sunny and warm. Sin City here we come!

If you’re gonna do Vegas, you might as well do it right. We Pricelined ourselves into a 4-star casino resort in North Vegas for $37/night – the Alliante!

Kristin lounging at the Alliante

We pulled up, and the bellman unloaded garbage bags full of laundry, backpacks full of climbing gear, and a cooler with nappy leftover foodstuffs. The valet looked at us with a frown as he took the keys and climbed into the car, which had a layer of desert dust covering the dash and half a dozen pairs of shoes behind the driver seat. We laughed at ourselves as we strode through the lobby filled with porcelain, marble and glass, half expecting security to question our intentions. The woman behind the counter grimaced a little and wrinkled her nose, but she honored our reservation. A few minutes later, we were relaxing in our own personal suite.

The next morning, we walked out of the casino at 4:45 am with two packs full of climbing gear. By 7 am, we were racked up at the base of Epinepherine, looking up at a 2000’ sandstone wall. We had ten hours of daylight. We decided to go light with one small pack, knowing that if we didn’t find the descent gully before dark we were going to suffer through a cold November bivy.

For the next nine hours we shivered and shimmied our way up the chimneys and then climbed pitch after pitch of endless positive face holds.

Looking back down the chimney on Epinepherine

At each belay, I would run some rough calculations in the back of my mind, wondering whether we were moving quickly enough. We eventually topped out at 4:15 pm and managed to enjoy 30 seconds of warm evening light, our first of the day, before the sun dropped behind the ridge. We had to move quickly.

We scampered up to the ridge top and then spent the next 30-45 minutes deciphering the descent along the south ridge of Windy Peak. In the fading light, we could just barely make out the large cairns that dotted the ridge line every several hundred feet. Right at 5 pm, just as the darkness set in, we found the descent gully marked by more large cairns. For the next two hours, we slowly crept along from one cairn to the next, feeling our way through the darkness towards the desert floor. A 7 pm, we finally reached the car, both jazzed and worn out after a chilly, 13-hour push. We stumbled back into the casino at 8:30 and slowly walked past banks of slots and the high roller room on the way to a hot bath. By 10 pm, we were sipping wine and enjoying a 4-star Italian dinner by candlelight. Yeah, Vegas is ok I guess.

After a rest day, we drove to Big Sur, California, where we met up with a good friend from college to celebrate his birthday. Our first night there, we enjoyed the most brilliant sunset of the trip, and Kristin and I reflected upon an amazing month of climbing and freedom.

Big Sur Sunset

Over the next 3 days, we enjoyed hikes on the Pacific coast, cold beers, bocci ball and memories of old times and good friends. We couldn’t have asked for a better way to finish up the trip. Thanks to Keith and Beth for the good times!

The Desert Diaries - Indian Creek

2010-11-21T20:27:00.000-08:00

You only get one first time. In the midst of that new experience, the doors swing wide open and you suddenly perceive a new reality, new opportunities, and just maybe a new part of your life thereafter. The rush can never be duplicated, but each time you return to your new found pastime, you try to recreate the unmatched eye opening feeling of having a life-long veil lifted off of your head. Those moments, the feelings, the sensations, the little details, stick with you for the rest of your life, and if you’re lucky you get to experience that rush at least a few times before you move on. If you build it up too much ahead of time, searching out that high, you might just be disappointed. But when you take things as they come, those rare fleeting moments catch you by surprise and create memories that sustain and inspire you for the rest of your life.

Indian Creek. I first tied into a rope in 1991. I’ve been climbing pathologically since 2001. I can’t remember how many times I’ve heard people rave about “The Creek,” how many photos I’ve seen, how many stories I’ve read about people scrounging for extra cams for the parallel sided cracks. All the hype turned me off for a while, but to be honest the tales of desperation and dead vertical face cracks spooked and intimidated me. When I’d hear the stories, I’d scoff to myself, but I always wondered whether I was good enough.

When we planned our recent month off, Kristin and I finally decided we were going to Indian Creek, and our loosely laid plans revolved around our main focus – sampling the goods. When I popped a rib on the first pitch during the first day of climbing – on a 5.8 layback on Wall Street – suddenly it looked like the whole plan might come crashing down before it even got off the ground. After I suffered through an excruciating night of pain (after climbing on it for three days), the doctor at the Moab hospital told me to rest it indefinitely. As we drove south towards Arizona on state highway 191, past the turn off to the Canyonlands, Indian Creek and Newspaper Rock, we talked about the disappointment and frustration and speculated that we may never be back this way again. Opportunity lost.

But in the back of my mind, I knew we might be back. I told Kristin that my ribs could recover, the weather might hold, the drive wasn’t so bad. We were only five days into a month-long trip. We just had to take it one day at a time, enjoy our freedom, and we’d see where that would take us.

Over the next several days, we visited with new friends in Sedona, where I signed up for a student massage from a local school. In the massage room, a CD played in the background with the sound of fake waves crashing on a distant seashore – on repeat. My student masseuse was a heavier set woman in her early to mid 50s, long artificially colored hair, skin showing signs of too much sun, apparently looking for a career change. The school recommended her as a specialist in sports massage. I hesitantly explained my injury to this complete stranger and then stripped down to my boxers after she left the room. When she came back in, I tried to believe as hard as I could that she could help and that I should trust her with my body. I tried to relax.

She engaged me in conversation and rubbed and poked and prodded for a good 20 minutes before getting down to business. After awhile, she finally moved straight to the central area of pain. She found a spot on my back, in my ribs, and gently applied pressure. She kept up that pressure and increased it slightly as I breathed and tried to relax. After a few seconds, she said “there it is,” as her hands started to move ever so slightly. After a few more seconds, I felt something like a knot getting pushed aside as her hands slid off my rib cage. She said happily, “that should just about do it. I think your rib just slipped back into place.” Still skeptical, I thought to myself, “yeah whatever,” but I relaxed and enjoyed the rest of the massage.

Over the next week, Kristin and I climbed in the Cochise Stronghold, and I couldn’t believe how quickly my body recovered. Despite my initial skepticism, it appeared that the student masseuse really did help my cause. The more I climbed, the better I felt. The pain went away, my strength returned, and I felt a surge of motivation take over. We got to explore a magical desert landscape with 800 ft. granite domes, but we knew we were eventually going to move on. After climbing four out of five days, we decided to make the long drive back to Indian Creek.

We finally arrived in the Creek on a Monday afternoon. We drove in from the south just before sunset, and the evening light glowed off the eastern walls of the canyon. Buttress after buttress of beautiful sandstone rose up over the two-lane road, illuminated by the setting sun. With the window down, Lovin Cup was playing on the radio.

I’m the man who walks the hillside in the sweet summer sun.
I’m the man that brings you roses when you ain’t got none.
Well I can run and jump and fish, but I won’t fight
You if you want to push and pull with me all night.

We pulled over to gape, and Kristin broke into tears of joy. Light streamed in the windows. Music poured out. Wow.

The next morning, we started at the Scarface Wall as our first introduction to the Creek. After a warm up on Wavy Gravy, a .10- splitter on the far end of the wall, we walked back towards the main area looking for another objective. Most of the popular lines had three or more people hanging out at the base. We kept going and eventually turned the corner to find a massive, dead vertical 100’ corner with a perfect splitter finger crack – Black Uhuru.

Black Uhuru, 5.10+

A nice guide from Crested Butte and his girlfriend were just finishing up, and we sat down to wait. As I was racking up, I was a little scared, and it helped to talk about it with Kristin and the climbing guide. He reassured me that it wasn’t that hard, but at 5.10+, it looked damn hard from where I stood. I pawed through the three racks we were carrying, pulling off as many .5” pieces as I could find – 8 in all. I thought to myself, “I guess this is it” and took a deep breath as I started up the first few moves.

From the top of an initial pillar, the crack reared straight up, but what looked like smooth walls turned out to have small features. I sunk my fingers in the crack, leaned back, walked my feet up the opposing wall and started climbing. After a few moves, I found a good stance and plugged in a cam. After a few more moves, I found another stance and placed another piece of pro. I repeated this a couple of more times, and pretty soon I was 20 ft. from the top, staring up at one last, long section of climbing without a good stance. I placed another cam, took a couple of deep breaths, and leaned it back again. Halfway through the last section, I stopped to place another piece of pro and almost blew it. Fiddling in a shaky piece, I kept going, huffing and puffing, trying not to pop off the wall. With the shakes just starting to come on, I reached up, snagged a perfect locking hand jam, and pulled through to the anchors. Hell yes!

Over the next week, we binged on crack. Like a kid in a candy store, I ran around on-sighting as many incredible crack lines as my body could take. After that first tough lead, the mystique of Indian Creek – the intimidating reputation – turned into an amazing, incredible unmatched reality. We turned our eyes to the dozens of walls lining the valley and looked on them with a new perspective – we can climb these splitter cracks and my god its going to be fun. This was our first time climbing at Indian Creek.

For me the high point came on Day 3 at the Reservoir Wall. Again the wall was somewhat busy. After a great warm-up on Dr. Carl, I decided to abandon the hordes and strike off in search of Excuse Station, rumored to be a stunning 5.11 hand crack at the far end of the wall. As I walked down the wall, I kept looking up to my right, wondering whether this crack or that crack line was the one. Nothing seemed to match the description in the guide, and I kept going.

Finally, I turned a last corner, looked up and saw the most amazing looking hand crack I had ever seen splitting a vertical wall. I craned my neck as I tilted my head back, looking for the top of the crack, but I could barely see that high on the wall. Kristin walked up, and I looked around at our setting. We couldn’t see or hear another soul. We were alone.

Excuse Station, 5.11

I racked up and started climbing - hand jams, foot jams, hand jams, foot jams. It seemed to go on forever. One last rest before the final 20’ – I shook out and stood on a tiny toe-sized sloping ledge overlooking the canyon. I took a couple of deep breaths and tried to relax. The crack narrowed, and I struggled with some shaky ring locks. I finally got a good ledge for my feet on the left side of the crack, and I clipped the chains as my strength was giving out. I whooped in joy and sat back on the rope, exhausted and filled with energy.

On Day 5, we finally went to Supercrack Buttress, the most famous (or infamous) of all the crags at the Creek. Again, we found morning crowds and all the moderate lines were taken except, of course, for Supercrack. “Screw it,” I thought, “I’ll just have to climb it as a warm up.”

I racked up, and a couple of spectators arrived. By the time I started climbing, 6-8 Canadians were at the base watching and cracking jokes. No solitude this time. I pulled the roof on perfect hand jams. 20 feet later, I started to flame out on rattly cups. I also started to run out of cams. I back cleaned a piece and tried to relax. “Focus on your feet,” I thought to myself. I jammed a foot and stood up, balancing on shaky hands. “Keep going.” All of a sudden I was back in the groove – hand jam, foot jam, hand jam, foot jam. My last piece dropped away below me, and pretty soon I looked up and again clipped the chains. This time, I didn’t whoop – I burped … loudly. I must have been swallowing air. The crowd cheered.

Supercrack, 5.10

After the “warm up,” I kept going. I thought to myself, “you only get one first day at Supercrack Buttress – keep on-sighting as many lines as you can.” I tried Anasazi next, an incredible looking 5.11- finger crack in a striking vertical corner. I flamed out right at the end, and blew the lead by one move. Somewhat dejected, we pulled the rope and moved back to the main area.

Next up, the Incredible Hand Crack - perfect 5.10 hands. Hand jam, foot jam, hand jam, foot jam. I pulled through an incredible section of crack that was well over vertical and then into the easier terrain. Butter.

Next up, 3 am Crack. More perfect hand jams, only this time it starts out as tight hands - #1 cams (reds). In the midst of a binge, I racked up and launched up the climb without double checking my gear. I got to the top of the first pillar, looked up at a perfect #1-sized crack, and then looked down at my harness, where I had 7 #2 cams (yellows). Ooops. Kristin tied in 4-5 reds, and I hauled them up. I placed the first one, then fell back into a familiar rhythm of hand jam, foot jam, hand jam, foot jam. I finished up on shaky wide hands and then clipped the chains again. Oh yeah.

Nick Dolecek on 3 Am Crack, 5.10

Back on the ground, I was totally spent. I was bleeding – from a lot of places – inside my climbing shoes – on my ankles and knuckles and elbows and knees. My toes were killing me. My arms were dead. I called it a day – a happy day – my first one at Supercrack Buttress.

After one more day, bad weather moved in, and we decided to move on in search of dry rock and warm temperatures. We lived in the moment and that moment was over. But we had already written our own story – our first trip to Indian Creek.


Free Camping in the Bridger Jack's

Dr. Carl, 5.10

Generic Crack, 5.10-


Scarface Wall

Mr. Peanut, 5.11-

Reservoir Wall

Sunset in the Bridger Jacks

After the last climb, last day at The Creek

The Desert Diaries - Cochise Stronghold

2010-11-01T07:55:00.000-07:00

Kristin and I just wrapped up a great week in Cochise Stronghold in Southern Arizona. We spent two days in the Eastern Stronghold, clipping bolts and stretching out my ribs. We then took a rest day, drove over a mountain pass, and descended into the Western Stronghold, where we spent two more days climbing multi-pitch routes in and around the Sheepshead. I'm basically climbing pain free, and we got in some excellent routes.

We don't have a lot of time to write, because after a quick night at the Phoenix Hilton Tapatio Cliffs Resort (Priceline baby!) and a quick visit with Kristin's folks, who happened to be in Phoenix staying with their very nice friends Frank and Mary, we are off to Indian Creek. But we'll leave you with some shots of the Stronghold.

Chris Tying in for Nightstalker on the Owl in the East Stronghold, 5.9

Runout Face Climbing on the Owl

Kristin Enjoying her Second of the Wandering Runout Climbing

Last Pitch of Euhporia on the Sheepshead, III, 5.9

Belay on Mystery of the Desert on the Muttonhead, III, 5.9 R

And some amazing scenery ...

The Desert Diaries - Moab to Sedona

2010-10-24T16:59:00.000-07:00

After a few days of exploring Moab, we have migrated south to the great state of Arizona and are now happily holed up in Sedona, surrounded by another amazing landscape and more sandstone spires. We were chased from our desert paradise by two irresistible forces. First, Mother Nature herself, who unleashed a furious rainstorm reminiscent of our home in the Pacific Northwest. We rode out one day of rain by squatting in the public library and drinking beer in the local brewery. But with more weather expected over the next week, the sandstone was likely to remain wet into the foreseeable future, and we decided to search out better weather down South. Second, an injury.

On the first pitch of the trip, I felt a pop in my rib cage while laybacking on a moderate route. I climbed over the next two+ days despite some pain but then eventually woke up one night after a rogue sneeze just about sent me through the roof of the tent. The next morning, we went to the doctor, who diagnosed the problem as a mild separation of the rib from the cartilage.

After describing the problem, he suggested that I "give it lots of rest" and stop climbing for awhile. I instinctively gave him an unintentional rolling of the eyes as if to say "yeah right." He laughed and said, "I don't really care what you do, but we see your type in here 10 times a day. You can either rest it or you can make it worse. Your choice."

Stupid doctor. What does he know. Luckily, the weather sucked anyway, so I didn't have to stop climbing on account of my minor injury, and with the forecast looking suspect for the next week or so we decided to head to Sedona to visit our friends John and Lauren, who we met earlier this year in El Potrero Chico.

On the way there, we had the pleasure of driving through the famed Monument Valley, one of the great iconic landscapes of the American West. We stopped on the Navajo Indian Reservation and drove their loop road past the Totem Pole (site of the memorable scene from the Eiger Sanction where Clint tops out on a remote spire) and several other famous formations, playing the role of the well behaved gaping tourists.

The Monument Valley

The Curio

From the Background Above

Artist's Point on the Navajo Reservation

Since then, we've been enjoying the wonderful hospitality of our hosts, who just happen to live on the beautiful campus of a boarding school in the desert just outside Sedona. From here, we'll head further south to the Cochise Stronghold and a sea of granite domes just north of the Mexican border. We may yet make it back to Indian Creek and Moab, but first we'll have to work out a deal with Mother Nature and that damn doctor. Adios!

First Installment of the Desert Diaries

2010-10-22T17:19:00.000-07:00

The Summit of Ancient Art

On a rainy rest day, we found time to process some photos and check in from the road in Moab, UT. We've had two and half days of excellent climbing and are only getting our feet wet.

So far the desert has not disappointed - a Tuesday afternoon of cragging on Wall Street, Wednesday on Ancient Art and then Thursday in Long Canyon. We're adjusting to the climbing style in the SW, learning a thing or two on the stout cracks and soft rock of the towers. From here, we'll likely head to Indian Creek in search of sunny fall days and Wingate splitters.

Hope you enjoy the pictures!

Kristin on Wall Street

Sandstone and the Colorado River

Ancient Art During a Morning Approach

Ancient Art - Up the Chimney to the Dr. Seuss Spire on the Left - III, 5.10d

Kristin at the Last Belay

This one speaks for itself

More of the Fisher Towers

The Cobra

The Titan

The Wifey

Group Shot

In the Window

Approaching in Long Canyon

Electronic Battleship - 5.10

What scenery!

Canyonlands on a Rain Day

More Canyonlands

Glacier National Park Teaser

2010-09-27T22:57:00.000-07:00

Kristin and I spent an amazing week earlier this month exploring Glacier National Park with my mom. With too many stories and too many photos, we've had a hell of a time sorting through all the content and getting something posted about the trip.

Instead of waiting until its all organized, we decided to post a little teaser - a short clip of Mom preparing for her assault on Mt. Stanton. The peak rises 4500' above Lake McDonald on the western edge of the park, and we figured it would make a great little hike on the second day of the trip.

We won't give it away, but we will say that Mom kicked some serious butt. Did she summit? Did she bonk? Did we lose her on the descent? You'll have to tune back in to find out what happened! Reality TV at its finest.

Labor Day 2010 - Springbok Arete Backpacking Trip

2010-09-27T22:28:00.000-07:00

Labor Day weekend - the end of a wet and soggy summer - I tried to squeeze in one last mountain trip. Faced with yet another mediocre forecast, Doug and I played the denial game and convinced ourselves we just had to be there because you never know what you'll get. 30%, 40%, 50% chance of rain. It's all the same really ... isn't it? How are we going to know what its like unless we go and find out?

Ridiculing the stupid weather men, convinced they predict a 30-50% chance of rain every single day just so they're always right, we packed up our gear and headed to the Anderson River range in SW British Columbia. The objective - Springbok Arete on Les Cornes. If you're going to fail miserably, you might as well fail on a big objective.

We had heard about a maze of logging roads, a vicious bushwhack, and a long approach, and we had a three day weekend. We decided to spend a couple nights in the mountains and bivy at the base of the route. We rolled in on Saturday afternoon and made the approach, which ended up being much easier than we'd read about online.

The Start of the Bushwhack

The updated approach beta you'll find on the web is pretty much right on the money. The big arrow marks the departure point from the logging road. From there its basically straight down the hillside, across the creek on one of numerous log crossings and then up the other side through the old-growth.

Looking up the Strip of Old-Growth on the Approach

The forest makes for easy walking.

45-60 Minutes in the Trees

One you pop out of the woods, follow the flagging up through the talus towards the base of Les Cornes.

Emerging from the Trees into the Talus

We found one or two rough bivy sites at the base of the wall and lots of old snow we could melt for water.

Steinbok and a Remnant Snowpatch at the Base of Les Cornes

The rest of the peaks towered over the valley - lots of cool stuff to look at - with Steinbok providing the most impressive profile.

Steinbok

More Steinbok

Indian Paintbrush

Scoping the Route

The weather held off through Saturday afternoon, and we were hopeful for a good climbing day on Sunday. Shortly after we crashed out, we started to hear the pitter patter of rain drops on the tent. Pretty soon, the pitter patter turned into a driving rain storm with blowing wind. After a couple of hours of fitful sleep, I woke up and the raindrops sounded really big and kind of soft as they fell on the outside walls of the tent. Undeterred I went back to sleep anticipating the 5 am wake up call.

When the alarm went off, it was dark ... and quiet. Hmm. We poked our head out of the tent and found about two inches of fresh snow.

Morning Snows on Labor Day Weekend 2010

Crappy Weather - Pretty Pictures

Bummer man - spanked again by the weather gods. Seems like that's the theme for summer 2010. We packed it up and beat back down through the old-growth and into the brush, only this time it was covered in snow, rain and general wet nastiness. By the time we got back to the car, we were soaked through to the bone, but thankfully it just isn't that far. A quick change, and a chugged beer and we were off to the sushi place in Hope for breakfast.

I wish I could offer insights into the route, but we didn't even get off the ground. I can say that the approach is pretty much total cake - a little bit of bushwhacking that will leave you soaking wet with a good morning dew, but it shouldn't take more than a couple of hours. Its possible to bivy at the base of the routes, but the sites aren't really that great. Next time I'd probably just go car to car, but we enjoyed a night in the mountains nonetheless. The route looked amazing, and I'm definitely hoping to make it back. BC rocks!

El Potrero Chico Reprise

2010-09-20T11:39:00.000-07:00

Back in March, Kristin and I escaped the dreary weather of the Pacific Northwest in search of Mexican limestone in El Potrero Chico. We stumbled upon some amazing climbing, but we also met a memorable collection of personalities and characters. One of the great people we got to know in Mexico, John Kelley, just published an article on his impressions of EPC and the unique community of climbers we found while we were there. Check it out. Nice work John!

Big Win in the Ninth Circuit on Logging Roads and Stormwater

2010-08-17T13:50:00.000-07:00

The Ninth Circuit just issued a long-awaited opinion in a case we've been working on for several years. We brought the case against the Oregon Department of Forestry for discharging sediment pollution from logging roads into salmon rivers in the Tillamook State Forest. ODF has long argued they were exempt from the Clean Water Act's permitting requirement - basically leaving the pollution unregulated - but the Ninth Circuit disagreed. Check it out.

Phish at the Greek Theater

2010-08-15T00:17:00.000-07:00

This whole Phish thing is a little ridiculous, I'll be the first to admit, but how can I pass up the opportunity to hang with a half dozen college-era friends at the Greek Theater in Berkely, California?! I mean come on! I only get this opportunity once every ... what .... uhhh ... hmmm ... 3 or 4 months? How could I miss it?

Towards the end of the third show, a nice girl dancing next to me turns and says, "they have to play 2001 right here, don't they? They just HAVE to!" And then they segued sweetly into this. Enjoy.

Shooting the Bugaboos!

2010-08-11T22:48:00.000-07:00

Snowpatch Spire and the Howsers

Late last month, I spent a week in the Bugaboos in Southeastern British Columbia, my fourth trip to the range in the last eight years. I can't seem to get enough of this place. Since I returned to Portland, I've been focused on activities other than climbing (mostly work and ... ahem ... Phish at the Greek Theater). I haven't had time for a proper trip report, and I honestly don't think I'll get around to doing one, so I'll give a little narrative through some pics I shot during the week.

Here's the summary. We didn't knock out the big objective for the trip because of suspect weather and perhaps overly cautious decision making on my part. But I did get in several very fun routes and had a great time in one of the best alpine playgrounds around.

Armoring the Cars at the Trailhead

Nate on the Slog to Applebee Camp

Moonrise over Taurus Mountain

Snowpatch Spire in Morning Light

James on the Bugaboo-Snowpatch Col

Climbers on the Approach to the East Creek Bivy with Pigeon Spire in the Background


Descending into East Creek Basin

The East Creek Bivy

Nate on the Lower Pitches of Furry Pink Arete

That's Where We Came From

The Crux Pitch of Furry Pink Arete

The West Face of Snowpatch Spire from High on Furry Pink Arete

The First Pitch of Paddle Flake Direct

The Second Pitch of Paddle Flake Direct

Chris Stolz Following the Second Pitch of Westside Story

Chris Stolz Leding Out on the Third Pitch of Westside Story

From the Summit of Paddle Flake Direct

Climbers on the Summit of Lion's Way with the Donkey's Ears to the Right

Climbers Rapping McTech Arete

Later in the week, our friends Stephanie and Melanie showed up. I had the unique pleasure of taking Mel up her first alpine climb ever - McTech Arete, III 5.10-. She cruised it! Way to go girl.

At the Third Belay with Bugaboo Spire in the Background

Topping out on Pitch 5

At the Top of Pitch 6. The Paddle Flake is Visible in the Background.

A Parting Group Shot

I'd have to dredge the very depths of my being to come up with the right words to describe the Bugaboos and what it's meant to me since I started climbing. Instead, I hope these pictures inspire someone to go check this place out for themselves. You won't regret it!

Thanks to Nate, Stephanie and Melanie for the great times! When are we going back?

Beacon Rock is Open for Business

2010-07-21T20:17:00.000-07:00

Guy Pinjuv on Blownout, 5.10a

Squampton! - Rock On to the Squamish Buttress

2010-07-14T16:52:00.000-07:00

Ah the life of a climber in Portland - driving, driving and more driving in search of granite. Every summer, Kristin and I make at least one northerly pilgrimage to Squamish, BC in search of long routes laced with beautiful cracks. Set high above Howe Sound, the granite walls of the Chief offer some of the best multi-pitch trad climbing in the Pacific Northwest. Coastal rain forest eventually gives way to clean granite cracks unearthed from layers of moss and dirt by generations of dedicated climbers. Several hundred feet up the wall, all alone with you and your partner, you can enjoy sweeping views of old-growth forest, salmon streams, waterfalls and alpine ridges topped by snow-capped peaks and the queen of the area - Mt. Garibaldi. This places keeps drawing us back year after year.

From Rock On to the Squamish Buttress

Last weekend, we rolled into Squampton on Friday morning and went to do some local cragging in the Smoke Bluffs. With sweltering temperatures, we had a pretty nondescript day on moderate routes, trying our best to stay in the shade (with the mosquitos). At the end of the day, we were walking back to the parking lot from the Zip, turned the corner on the well traveled trail, and came face-to-face with a large black bear that must have weighed 400 pounds. My adrenal glands pumped me full of mojo as my first instinct was to turn and flee. A split second later I stopped to look back, and the big guy had already slipped back into the bush near the wetlands at the base of the Smoke Bluffs.

That incident brought back memories from the last time we were in Squamish, when stories were circulating about a large cougar who had stolen a small dog off of some lady's leash on the main tourist trail up the Chief. I was pumped up enough after a casual encounter with a black bear. I can only imagine what that experience must have been like.

Anyway, by Saturday morning, we were ready to stretch our legs and move on to something a bit longer. We decided initially on Rock On to the Ultimate Everything. We had only climbed Rock On once before and experienced the route's notorious early season wetness, and we had never been on the UE. Knowing ti would be a long day and wanting to be out front, we were up at 5 am and racked up at the base of Rock On by 6:45-ish.

The 4-5 pitches of Rock On were pure cracky joy! The climbing was better than I remembered it (probably because it was dry), and we managed to top out by around 10 am or so.

From Rock On to the Squamish Buttress

Looking back down from the middle of the crux pitch.

The crux .10a pitch can be lead in two shorter pitches or one longer 50m stretch of a beautiful corner system, starting out with a steep finger crack, moving into hands, back into fingers for the crux moves, and then back into steep hands over the final bulge. Definitely lead it all in a single go if you've got the endurance and the gear, because it makes for an incredibly fun pitch straight through to the anchors.

From Rock On to the Squamish Buttress

50m of sweetness!

From Rock On to the Squamish Buttress

Kristin cleaning the crux.

From Rock On to the Squamish Buttress

Another shot of Kristin on the crux pitch.

After we topped out on Rock On, we decided to change plans and climb the Squamish Buttress instead of the UE. We were hoping to stay in the shade and shorten the day a bit. Kristin had never been on it before, and I had only climbed it once without leading the crux pitch. We didn't have a topo, but I remembered the whole thing being pretty cruisy, so I figured we'd just follow the highway to the top.

The highlight of the whole day may have been getting passed just before the crux pitch by a soloist, who was clearly new to the area and going for the on-site of the Buttress. Apparently he had asked the party behind us whether this was even the right route, and he then cruised by me and sent the .10c crux.

From Rock On to the Squamish Buttress

Bold Soloing!

I watched him stop at the heel-to-toe no hands rest at the crux , and he had a couple of nervous moments as he felt out the moves leading to the top out. He stayed composed and pulled through, much to my relief. Not exactly my cup of tea, but impressive to watch nonetheless.

After he disappeared, I eventually lead the crux pitch, clipping two fixed wires and a pin in the corner. I actually thought the lower part where you have to move from right to left into a different crack system was the crux for me. Up high, it felt more like a sport route with so much fixed gear and a good no hands rest. But it was steep and fun!! What a great pitch.

From Rock On to the Squamish Buttress

Kristin Cleaning up the crux pitch of the Buttress

We topped out around 1:30-1:45 and were treated to the usual amazing views of the surrounding territory. What a day! What a place! What'd I do with the chocolate bar?

From Rock On to the Squamish Buttress

Kristin lounging on top

From Rock On to the Squamish Buttress

Summit Shot!

Squamish rocks!! I can't wait for the next trip. Who's in?

Prusik Peak - Solid Gold

2010-06-28T22:23:00.000-07:00

Weeks and weeks of crappy weather delayed the start of the alpine climbing season this year. I waited patiently for much of that time, hanging out at the crags, in the gym, at the bar, on my bike, hoping for a stable weather window and some dry rock in the high country. Earlier this month, a weekend of lowland rock climbing in Squamish was again thwarted by mother nature. We retreated to Tieton on the east side of the Cascade crest and promptly got dowsed by yet another rain storm. I climbed in a downpour in Hells Canyon. I greased my way up wet basalt at the Ozone. My patience was wearing thin.

A high pressure system finally started to move on shore over the past week, and the stars looked like they might align. Nate scored a hard-to-come by permit for the Enchantments and was looking for a couple of tag alongs. The moon was going to be full. All I needed was an objective and a partner.

The permit was for the Snow Lakes region, home to the fabled Prusik Peak. Here's a shot from a 2006 trip to the area.

I climbed the classic Burgner/Stanley South Face route on that trip, and I had done the equally famous West Ridge a few years before. I was looking for something a bit harder I hadn't done before and started scanning the web, recalling some discussions of other lines on the South Face.

CascadeClimbers had the info I was looking for. Beta on the route came from an ascent by Wayne Wallace and Tim Olson back in the '90's, but it may have been climbed before that. A few parties had been on it over the past couple of years and gave rave reviews of the route. It was supposed to feature bomber rock with sustained climbing, short 5.11a cruxes and good pro. Sounded perfect.

The picture below from cc.com has the route overview. It's located on the west side of the South Face and meets up with the West Ridge after 4-5 pitches.

In the shot below, its on the left side of the face.

From Prusik Peak - Solid Gold

After scrounging some beta, all I needed was a partner. I pinged Guy, and after a somewhat anxious night of wondering if this was really going to come together, he delivered with the green light and everything fell into place. Hell yeah!

We drove up late Friday night, drank a few Red Stripes and crashed out on Icicle Creek Road. We were up and moving by 6:00 am the next day, hoping to avoid the heat with an early start and possibly even thinking about maybe climbing something that afternoon. The sloppy slog from Snow Lake to Lake Vivienne took its toll on us. Soft snow, mud, and warm temps made for slow going, and when we got up to the final slabs, raging torrents of water and a deep snow pack obscured the trail.

From Prusik Peak - Solid Gold

By the time we rolled into the prime bivy sites above Lake Viv, we were toasted and decided to hole up with the goats and chill for the afternoon.

From Prusik Peak - Solid Gold

That night, we enjoyed a beautiful open bivy in a sheltered alcove under a full moon. It doesn't get much better then that. My only complaint was waking up in the middle of the night with a chipmunk scampering down my arm inside my sleeping bag. Ack! A quick spaz session and some cursing, and the little snafflehound moved on to friendlier confines.

The next morning, we were on the move by 7 am, thinking about the long slog back down to the car and the five hour drive back to Portland.

We rolled up to the base of the route before the sun hit the rock. Guy took the first pitch and styled an awkward and cold chimney section into beautiful sustained 5.10+ finger locks on bomber rock. Sweet lead.

From Prusik Peak - Solid Gold

Photo by Guy Pinjuv.

I swung through into the first crux about 10 feet of the belay. Funky moves past the roof on marginal cams freaked me out and I called for some tension. I managed to get through and then enjoyed the sweet hand crack to the belay. Here's a short of Guy starting the hand crack after pulling the roof.

From Prusik Peak - Solid Gold

Looking up at the start of Pitch 3.

From Prusik Peak - Solid Gold

Two more super fun pitches of solid crack climbing led up to a beautiful ledge under a perfect looking .10+ corner with a splitter tips crack. So fun!

From Prusik Peak - Solid Gold

Photo by Guy Pinjuv

We topped out on the ridge and then decided to make a quick rap and down climb to begin the long trip home.

From Prusik Peak - Solid Gold

On the way down, we stopped to take a couple of shots of Nate and Steph on the Burgner/Stanley route. If you look close, you'll see Nate up there somewhere.

From Prusik Peak - Solid Gold

Its probably the best line on the face, much longer than the route we did, and they were getting the full value experience. The last pitch to the summit is so classic!

After a long walk out, we hit the road at 8-ish and stumbled back into Portland around 1 am. We were gone about 55 hours, drove 550 miles, walked 20 miles, and climbed 5 pitches. Yeah, that's the life of a climber in Portland. Major props to Guy for motivating. Was it worth it? Oh yes! Would I do it again next weekend? Hmmm ... try me.

Hells Canyon Trip Report ... sssshhh ... don't tell anyone.

2010-06-13T21:35:00.000-07:00

In 2000, just as I was learning how to climb, I took a backpacking trip to Hells Canyon with Kristin and my friends Eli and Jason. Jason had just moved to Portland from New York state, and Eli flew in from New York City for a visit. I had lived in Portland for only a little more than a year. We drove in from the Oregon side, up and over endless steep hills of sagebrush and eventually down into the canyon and the banks of the Snake River. That trip left a strong impression on us west coast newbies, surrounded by what felt at the time like a frontier wilderness. I recently dug out some old photos, and we look like tiny little creatures in a vast foreign landscape. At the time we felt the same way and couldn't believe we had stumbled upon such a little talked about natural wonder.

From Hells Canyon 2010

During that trip, or in preparation for the trip, I can't honestly remember, we heard rumors of climbing in Hells Canyon. From where we were on the Oregon side, we couldn't conceive of where the climbing was. We barely saw any rock, and what we did see looked like complete choss. I remember thinking that a climbing area in this majestic setting would be an amazing place to explore, and I filed it away deep in my memory hoping one day I would come back and check it out.

Well that time finally arrived during Memorial Day weekend. Kristin and I were desperate to get in a long weekend of cragging, and we wanted to stay far away from the rain and the crowds. Hells Canyon had come up in a recent conversation with a climber friend, and she had emailed me a couple of links to some bare bones information on the web - just enough to get us to the crag but not enough to ruin the sense of exploration. I pitched the idea to Nate and Steph and pretty soon had a trip arranged 10+ years after my first visit - this time with a rope and draws. Oh yeah!

We rolled in late on Friday night after a long post-work drive from Portland, groped our way around in the dark until we found the free campground and then pitched a tent in a field lit by the headlights of our car. We could sense the canyon around us, but we couldn't see a thing. As I drifted off to sleep, all I could think about was waking up and taking a look around at where we were.

Morning came and we were not disappointed. We awoke in the middle of a grass field, sandwiched between the Snake River and what looked like endless walls of limestone.

From Hells Canyon 2010

We had collected just enough information over the web to get us to the crags. We had heard that the South Face of the Flatiron had the longest routes and amazing views of the canyon, so Nate and I decided we would head there first thing. Good choice!

From Hells Canyon 2010

Other than the location of the crag, we really had no other information on the routes or any of the climbs. A 25 minute walk up the hillside landed us at the base of a 3-400 ft. limestone wall overlooking the canyon.

From Hells Canyon 2010

We searched around for lines of bolts and eventually found lots of them. We started on something that looked relatively clean and moderate, with a short roof crux right at the end - probably a move of 5.10 but who knows.

From Hells Canyon 2010

After that, we climbed several more moderate lines on good rock with amazing views. No rain - no other people - no guide book - no clue what we were on. Perfect.

From Hells Canyon 2010

We climbed several lines on the right side of the Flatiron. All of them were in the 5.9 to 5.10 range - pretty good rock although not very heavily traveled - but excellent climbing in a very cool setting.

From Hells Canyon 2010

Later in the day, we worked our way further to the left along the base of the wall out towards the nose.

From Hells Canyon 2010

Here's some shots of Nate working a route.

From Hells Canyon 2010

The next day, we explored the next drainage over - Dry Gulch - headed for a distinct looking line we could see from the parking lot. A gold wall stood out on the far side of the valley, with a series of three roofs cutting across the middle. I had been staring at it since we woke up that first morning, wondering what it would look like up close, how big the roofs were, whether there were holds to use. That first night, we met up with some folks from Portland in the camground, and they told us there was a stellar line that cut straight through the roofs, so Kristin and I set out to find it on Sunday morning.

After a circuitous 30 minute hike up hill past several other interesting looking crags, we finally found what we were looking for.

From Hells Canyon 2010

The line goes straight up between the left and center roof. The wall itself lies high above the valley, and the rough trail to the base traverses a steep hillside. One or two small trees provide a tiny flat spot to drop a pack and rack up. For the first climb of the morning, it was a bit intimidating.

I should have gotten a couple more photos, but I was too focused on the climb. It looked like it would be pretty straightforward up to the roofs, but the bottom was steep and tricky on down sloping and fractured rock. The roof section itself was amazing, with tricky climbing that had your feet on tiny ledges just over the two roofs - very airy. Once over the roofs, there was another tricky crux section just before the anchors. Whew! Exciting. I got spanked on the first go, then TR'd it clean before moving on to check something else out. Someone told us it was .10+ to the first anchors where I lowered off - seems about right. There is also a second pitch that looked cool.

From there, we pounded further uphill to find Nate and Steph up near an unmistakable hanging arch that dominated the Dry Gulch drainage. Up near the arch we found a couple of more cool looking lines and excellent views of the valley.

From Hells Canyon 2010

Monday, we woke up to some wet weather but decided to climb anyway. We went to Two Face Wall, which was only a few minutes up the trail from the campground. I had climbed a line on that wall at the end of the day on Saturday, enjoying a lower angle slab down low topped by a steep featured wall with good rock. We got in a pitch or two before it started raining pretty good and then packed it in.

From Hells Canyon 2010

Hells Canyon is definitely special, in part because there is no guidebook and very little information posted on line. Everyone we met was willing to offer helpful beta once we were there, but we still had to pretty much walk up and eyeball the routes without knowing where they went or how hard they were. Several folks told us it was more crowded then they had ever seen it, but we barely saw anyone on the walls the entire weekend.

I'm torn about even posting a trip report, because this place is such a well kept secret. The locals, however, seem to be letting information slowly leak out to the public. My advice - find your way to the campground, eyeball the coolest looking line you can see and go looking for bolts. You won't be disappointed. If you need more beta then that, Nate posted a bit on his blog. You'll also find a bit of information on rockclimbing.com and mountainproject. And if you drop me a line, I'll tell you what I can.

From Hells Canyon 2010

Mushrooms, Cracks and Bolts

2010-05-17T22:13:00.000-07:00

Skipping out early on Friday afternoon, Kristin and I picked up Moira and headed east on I84 towards Leavenworth looking forward to a couple of days of climbing. This was our first trip of the year to Der Bavarian Crackville, and we were definitely feeling the anticipation of climbing on granite for the first time in several months.

We woke up on Saturday morning at about 5 am and left for Snow Creek Wall. Kristin had never climbed Outer Space, so that was the main objective for the weekend. The last time we hung out with Doug and Moira, we tried the same route and got a late start, getting stuck behind several slow parties at Two Tree Ledge. After rapping off, we started up Champagne, only to get lost high up on the wall wondering where the hell the route went. That led to a late night of rappelling in the dark, which we were hoping to avoid this time around.

The early start helped, and we were racking up around 8-ish.
Snow Creek Wall was looking good on the hike in.

From Leavenworth May 2010

Kristin on the morning log crossing.

From Leavenworth May 2010

Looking up the stellar hand crack. Fun!

From Leavenworth May 2010

Looking back down from the top.

From Leavenworth May 2010

The spring flowers were out in the Icicle.

From Leavenworth May 2010

Saturday night, we segued from climbing into the beer-wine-bourbon triathlon in Doug's hot tub. We slept in on Sunday and drank a bunch of coffee to recover from the day before.

From Leavenworth May 2010

After pounding some serious soy for breakfast, we headed out to a fairly new local sport crag. Doug claimed we'd find steep, long routes on juggy overhanging walls of solid rock. Yeah, I'd heard that story before and was kind of skeptical, but when I got there the place lived up to its billing.

I was too busy climbing to get any good shots, but Moira got this one of me on some unknown route of unknown grade that surmounted two rad roofs up a 100 ft. overhanging cave feature. Yeah ... sounds fun huh? This place has a TON of awesome looking lines.

From Leavenworth May 2010

Oh yeah and the kicker ... fresh morels!

From Leavenworth May 2010

They made for some tasty pasta tonight.

Thanks to Doug for putting us up at Der Treehouse and Moira for the company. Excellent weekend!

Next weekend, YOU need to go climbing.

From Leavenworth May 2010

Tieton Temptations

2010-04-26T20:31:00.000-07:00

I was lucky enough to spend my weekend in the lovely Tieton River valley with Nate, Stephanie and Melanie. The flowers are just starting to bloom as spring creeps up from the shrub steppe into the forest. We spent Saturday at The Bend, shivering through a cool morning and then basking in the afternoon light. We climbed several of the cracks on the West Side, including Salmon Song, Treatment Bound, Sugar Kicks and Ambient Domain.

The highlight was definitely shooting Stephanie on lead on Hallowed Ground, 5.9.

From Tieton - April 2010

Sublime light that evening.

From Tieton - April 2010

The Bend

From Tieton - April 2010

On Sunday, we climbed at The Cave, the first time I had been up there to check out the many bolted lines. Melanie was designated rope gun for the day - here she is flashing Tumbling Blocks, 5.10b.

From Tieton - April 2010

Nate and I managed to sample some of the goods on the main wall of the cave. We found really cool climbing on downsloping blocks with long pitches. I didn't manage to get any photos, but it's definitely worthy of a return trip.

And a final parting shot of the happy faces at the end of a great weekend of climbing!

From Tieton - April 2010

Winter Reflections

Stretching the Legs

Scratchin' the Itch

The Story of Blue

Late Fall Sun at Smith Rock

Ski Stoke

Wilderness Peak Turkey Hike

Magic Ed and his Mexican Blog

El Potrero Chico PSA

Potrero Chico Teaser

The Faces of Occupy Portland - 10.9.11

The Faces of Occupy Portland - 10.8.11

The Faces of Occupy Portland - 10.6.11

In the Menagerie Wilderness

me·nag·er·ie

[muh-naj-uh-ree, -nazh-]

noun

The Return to Smith Rock!

More on the Suffering

Reflections on the Gunsight Range

Mt. Adams - SW Chutes

Lover's Leap

Anniversary on the Moongoddess Arete

Desert Days

The Tieton Valley

Lane Peak - The Zipper Ski Descent

Eastern Sierra Ski Junket

Mt. Hood Backcountry Turns

The Desert Diaries - Epinepherine to Big Sur

The Desert Diaries - Indian Creek

The Desert Diaries - Cochise Stronghold

The Desert Diaries - Moab to Sedona

First Installment of the Desert Diaries

Glacier National Park Teaser

Labor Day 2010 - Springbok Arete Backpacking Trip

El Potrero Chico Reprise

Big Win in the Ninth Circuit on Logging Roads and Stormwater

Phish at the Greek Theater

Shooting the Bugaboos!

Beacon Rock is Open for Business

Squampton! - Rock On to the Squamish Buttress

Prusik Peak - Solid Gold

Hells Canyon Trip Report ... sssshhh ... don't tell anyone.

Mushrooms, Cracks and Bolts

Tieton Temptations