Author Archives: Kate

The traditional gathering of friends for climbing over the long Memorial Day weekend took place in New Mexico this year! Dylan and Ann, Doug, Zach, Claire, Dennis, Mark and I all met up at Tres Piedras in northern New Mexico, in the dark and the rain, late on Friday night.

Thanks to the inspiration of a local photo gallery, I decided to shoot the weekend in black and white, playing with different settings on the camera and post processing. I think the pictures turned out… interesting. Some look a little over done, others under. Let me know what you think!

All of the shots from the weekend are up in the gallery. Also, Dylan started a flickr group for our photos here.

We knew the weather forecast for the weekend was bad, but the sopping wetness that we all woke up to on Saturday morning seemed unreal for the desert state. Dylan joked, appropriately, that we had been transported during our dark drive the night before to Squamish, which seemed more likely than New Mexico on Saturday morning. The air was thick with mist and fog, the Ponderosa pine trees dripped water from their needles, the sandy dirt road was running with new little rivers, and the lovely granite domes of Tres Piedras were slick as glass.

It seemed unlikely that we would get much climbing in. We hiked around the rocks, identifying nice looking, but very wet, routes. The skies stayed dark, and rain drizzled on and off all morning.

Tres Piedras looks like a fantastic place to camp and climb. We could set up all of our tents just a few hundred feet from the rocks, in a fantastic grove of Ponderosas. The area was quiet. The granite routes looked beautiful.

After our hike, we retired to camp, and munched on lunch while the skies opened up for another downpour. We relaxed and debated the weekend plan for the next hour. Should we hang out at the wet camp, and hope to climb the next day? Or pack up and drive to Santa Fe, where Dylan and Ann have a loft apartment and we could all “camp out” on their floor?

The idea of sleeping away the afternoon in a tent sprinkled with rain, or slacklining between wet trees did appeal to me. But after an hour, the rain got harder and harder. Our tent appeared to be leaking slightly (note to self – need to redo the seam seal). Slacklining would be nearly impossible in the deluge. We needed to leave.

Two hours later and we were in the tasting room at the Second Street brewery in Santa Fe. Still a little damp, but with higher spirits. We grilled our camp food on Dylan and Ann’s deck, drank lots of beer in the loft, and played card games until late at night. Note for other rained-in campers: Apples to Apples seems to be much more fun than Fluxx for a big group. If you can find it, though, invest in a few decks of Dutch Blitz. You won’t regret it.

The big adventure of our trip to North Carolina came on Wednesday, when we all booked spots on a 50ft catamaran sail-cruise to Cape Lookout. The trip took about 6 hours, included lunch, drinks and snacks, involved spotting horses and dolphins from the sailboat as well as mooring at the lighthouse and the cape to give us time to explore and look for shells. All for the bargain price of $60 a person. Really. Great. Deal. I totally recommend Lookout Cruises if you’re in the area.

And, I may have decided that my next career will involve chartered sailing while I was on this boat. Those guys did a great job, and looked like they really loved their jobs. There’s pictures from the day up in the gallery.

The cruise was great. We had a strong wind out of the east, so we “motor-sailed” out to the lighthouse (the direct line on the map above), which took about an hour and a half. We had lunch at the dock and then took an hour to explore the museum, lighthouse, and pristine seashore of the cape. We then loaded back into the boat, and sailed back a little ways, where the crew ran the big boat up on the beach, and we all hopped out to find some of the biggest, prettiest shells I’ve ever seen. All in an area with no roads, no crowds, in fact, nobody but us for the whole day.

Mark and I both have a good bit of experience with sailing, and have often talked about buying a little boat and taking sailing vacations. On this trip, I thought it was great to see so much of the love of sailing and passion for the outdoors in the people living along the coast. They may not be climbing, but these people have just as much dedication and obsession with their chosen sport and lifestyle as any dirtbag rock climber that I’ve met.

I’ve often heard from the climbers and adventurers in my life that there are two types of people in this world. Some people are happy just to see the mountains, and enjoy the views from below. Others are driven to climb and explore each peak and lofty perch. I think the same easily applies to the ocean. Some people are perfectly content to sit on the beach and watch the waves crash, the storms’ fury, and the dolphins playing, from a distance. Others have to head out into the blue expanse, and experience it all first hand.

When I was a little girl, my favorite place on the planet was the Outer Banks, in North Carolina. My family traveled to the East Coast nearly every year from the time I was about 10 years old until after I left for college. My most recent trip was for our wedding, six years ago, in Duck, North Carolina. Last week, Mark’s family met in Atlantic Beach, in the southern part of the North Carolina coast.

Check out the gallery for pretty photos.

When I was younger, the North Carolina Coast inspired so many dreams and fantasies. I would try to surf in the chaotic waves on the coast. In my mind, I was in Hawaii, ripping it up with the best of them.

I would sail small boats around the sound, the area between the barrier islands and the mainland, flying across the water in North Carolina wind gales. In my mind, I was captain of one of the hundreds of wrecks that litter the shallows off the myriad capes and barrier shoals.

I would walk along the beach in the evening, watching dolphins in the distance and pelicans skimming over the waves. In my mind, I was walking arm-in-arm with the love of my life, content to be together in a beautiful, perfect, magical place.

In some ways, the beach wedding felt like a “goodbye” to my childhood and childish things. It was the last time I visited the North Carolina coast, and I was working, making my own money, and committing myself to the man I love. The world was open to me; I could travel and sail and climb and be everything I had ever dreamed of.

And in the last few years, we have made good on those big ideas. As we drove over the causeway for our return trip this week, I felt instantly nostalgic and sad. The beach seemed so much smaller, and less exotic than it had been when I was a kid. How exciting are wild horses on barrier islands when you’ve chased mountain goats up 14,000ft peaks? How amazing is an east-coast beach when you’ve been to Tel Aviv? How can sailboats on the sound compare to the gilt long-boats near Venice?

I felt that this vacation would never be as great as the ones I remembered, but now I think that may be an unfair comparison. The world is different now, especially when viewed through my eyes. But that, actually, doesn’t make a special place like North Carolina any less special. The world is full of amazing sights and incredible adventures, and now that I’ve experienced a few of them, I think the coast of North Carolina still ranks among the best.

Hello Young Kate! This is a note from yourself, 8 years from now. You see, I’ve been inspired by some friends to look back at old photos and I’ve noticed some things. I thought you might appreciate a little advice from the future, just to let you know everything works out, though maybe not as you expected.

I see you decided to buy yourself a harness and pair of new, shiney climbing shoes! Too bad you didn’t believe the guy at the climbing store when he tried to sell you those Mythos. They end up being some of your favorite shoes in the future. But, everybody is new, and your gear will work fine. A note to start out, though. Wearing only a sport bra does NOT make you look nearly as cool as you think it does. Just sayin’.

Your learning years in the mid-west will be important ones. And believe it or not, the Red River Gorge is actually a great place to climb. Yeah, I know, it’s hot and humid and crowded and you have to thrash through shrubbery to get to the climbs. But, someday, the place will become so popular, your memories will seem positively quaint. Cherish your moments in Kentucky, but know there are bigger and better things out there for you. You’ll move to Colorado. You’ll climb huge routes. You’ll have plenty of adventures. Stop complaining.

Leading may seem scarey now, but it will get worse. When the inevitable anxiety disorder catches up to you (it’s hereditary, don’t fight it, just understand it), you need to be ready for everything to get harder. So, for now, keep leading, and don’t let others do all of the work. The more you do now, the easier it will be later. Lead more in the gym, lead more outside, and don’t let that silly beginner’s confidence slip away from you.

You’re falling in love with Mark, and it’s only going to get worse. It may seem extremely unlikely right now, but you will marry him, and it will be one of the best decisions you’ve ever made.

It sounds cheesy, but you will regret the things you don’t do more than the ones you do. Every time you get scared and think you can’t do something, imagine me, 8 years in the future, thinking back to that moment and wondering what amazing person I would have become if I would have kept going. Your best climbs will always be the ones you want to walk away from. You’ll think they’re too hard, or too long, or too unknown. But it always works out, because you and Mark are smart, thoughtful, and capable climbers. These “impossible” climbs will be the most memorable, and often your favorites. I don’t know why it is this way. It just is.

Cherish the time with your friends, because people wander in and out freely in this world.

And wear more sunscreen, ya idiot.

Love,
Future Kate

We got a break in the weather on Sunday and took off for the mountains. Mom and I went shopping in Estes Park and then we all drove up through the National Park. We watched elk, played in the snow, and walked on Trailridge Road past the closure.

There’s some nice and fun pictures from the day in the gallery.

Mom and Katy at Many Parks Curve

View over Moraine Park from Trailridge Road

A young elk laying beneath pines

The Mummy Mountains

A Magpie catches a ride on a grazing elk

Mountains and clouds

We haven’t been climbing in a while, and it will be several more weekends before we get the chance. But May is lining up to be a great month, with a lot of beautiful trips planned. Our brief time in the national park left me desperately craving more time in high places. Soon the snow will melt, and we will return.

The early spring planting season is upon us in Colorado, and I’ve been picking out seeds and starting plants for the ever expanding container garden and community garden plot. I’ve been learning a lot each growing season, and the major lesson that I learned last year: Plant hybrids. Lots of them.

Judging from the Burpee Catalog, garden stores, and plant centers which I visited this year, it seems most garden plants and seeds can be separated into four broad categories: Heirlooms, Organics, Hybrids and Unknowns. Heirloom plants are “older” genetic varieties, usually plants or seeds grown before industrial agriculture. Organic seeds are simply certified by government agencies to be the product of plants that are grown organically.

Organics and heirlooms have been growing in popularity in the last few years. When I started my garden, I devoted myself to cultivating only heirloom plants, if I could, and grew them with classic organic gardening techniques. The typical arguments for these older varieties include keeping genetic diversity alive, that the older types of produce taste better than newer varieties, and that heirloom plants have adapted over time to be resistant to local pests, diseases, and weather extremes.

Last summer, I learned that these arguments are, mostly, not applicable in Colorado. Let’s take, for instance, my problems with heirloom tomatoes. The first major issue is that there are no real heirloom varieties of tomatoes in Colorado. Colorado is not a friendly climate in which to grow tomatoes, and, as far as I’ve found, no tomato was traditionally grown in Colorado before industrialized agriculture. While we do get a lot of sun on the Front Range, our soils are sandy, our weather is very dry, our insects are ravenous, and our nights are cold.

For two summers I have devoted myself to coaxing heirloom tomatoes to life in my garden, and I have managed to over- and under-water them constantly, had them eaten whole by huge grasshoppers and little flea beetles, and watched the tomatoes sit green on the vines for the entire (short) growing season.

Yes, it’s frustrating. And for what? To keep genetic diversity? If my tomatoes never ripen, I’m not getting any new seeds to move on to the next generation. Because they taste better? Actually, the new garden hybrids I tried last summer tasted much better than the heirlooms. Because they’re better at resisting local pests? Not at all. In the end, I can’t justify the time, expense, energy and effort required to get a few heirloom tomatoes (or beans, or melons) off of fragile, dying plants, when I could get so much more food, and tastier food, from the new hybrid plant varieties.

So, this summer I’m avoiding any plant or seed labeled as “heirloom,” and that’s a hard and fast rule. Instead, I’ve invested in seeds and plants engineered for the lazy gardener in a harsh climate. These hybrids have been engineered to be very hardy, much higher producing (more veggies per plant), and very tasty in the garden. I’m buying piles of seeds to grow plants that are resistant to heat and cold, resistant to over- and under- watering, and producing tons of extremely good food. Because life is hard for plants in my mountain garden, and if I want tasty eats, I have to go high-tech.

What do you think? Are you devoted to heirlooms in your garden, or feel they have been over-hyped? Do you think engineering plants for a lazy gardener is a good idea or dangerous? Do fast-growing beans and seedless tomatoes make you excited about the newest developments in garden genetics or scare the begeebies out of you?

On Monday morning we had to pack up and head home. The weather in the mountains was beautiful, but I was feeling grouchy and a little depressed about going back to “real life.” After picking fights with both TJ and Mark for no reason, and then having a little emotional breakdown, I pulled the car off the highway and decided that a hike sounded good. We all needed a few more hours in the mountains, and another dose of endorphins (some of us more than others).

There’s pictures from the hike in the gallery.

We knew next to nothing about this trail. I’d seen signs for it as we drove through Glenwood Canyon, and one of our neighbors had declared the Hanging Lake trail to be his favorite in the entire state of Colorado. So we read all of the signs at the rest stop, and figured out that the trail started around the corner, was 1.2 miles long and rose in elevation from 6,XXX and 7,102 ft (as was written on the sheet of paper at the trailhead). We packed up water, cameras and lunches and headed out for the hike.

The trail was steep and rocky, but well maintained. The last 0.3 miles of the trail were covered in ice and snow. And the last few feet were very steep climbing up a blocky ledge system. Once over the ridge and on top of the canyon, you pop out and get your first view of the lake.

The lake sits high above Glenwood Cayon, filled with crystal clear water, surrounded by waterfalls running with spring snow melt, and crowned by granite cliffs. The lake is so beautiful, that planners re-routed the interstate though two tunnels rather than disturb the spot. We loved sitting next to this clear alpine lake on the sunny and beautiful afternoon. I ran around taking pictures of the waterfalls, and TJ and Mark watched trout in the deep, clear lake dart out of the shadows and eat insects off the surface.

We spent a quiet hour next to the lake, eating our lunches, and getting just a little more sunburnt. The hike out was quick and we were back in the car, driving though the mountains in what seemed like no time. Everybody was definitely feeling better.

On Sunday morning, we were sore. 15 miles in the saddle the day before was rough. But TJ was excited and we still had a full day to enjoy the fine trails around Fruita. So, we ate breakfast slowly, and then headed north to the 18 Road trails.

Photos from the day are up in the gallery.

These trails run up and down the bottom edge of one of the large, sandy mesas north of town. While they don’t climb to the top of any mountains, the long, gradual downhills and uphills in the area make for some fun and hard rides. Plus other trails run over the ridges of petrified sand dunes, with steep drops and roller-coaster like single track.

We started up the road, getting the kinks worked out of our legs and the feeling drained back out of our sore butts. Eventually, we met up with Western Zippity, a “green” trail, and rode the 1 mile until it connected with the Frontside trail, a more difficult route.

Along the Frontside trail, you can hook up with any number of expert, scary looking trails. We ended up riding past all of them, having fun on the rolling single track until we met up with the parking lot at the north end of 18 Road. From there, we all agreed to try Kessler’s Run back to the car. This was a great plan.

Kessler’s Run was the best trail of the whole weekend. We flew down this whoop-di-woop trail, riding up and down an arroyo on the long downhill from the edge of the book cliffs to the trailhead: 2 miles and 500 feet below. We rode sooo fast and had soooo much fun.

When we got back to the car, we ate snacks and drank gatorade, and decided to do it again. This time, we rode straight up 18 road and right back down Kessler’s. I was pretty tired after this 4 mile jaunt, but TJ and Mark decided to do it one more time. So I drove them up the road and met them with the car back at the trailhead, 2 miles down the hill.

It was a great day, and an incredibly fun, fun ride. We logged another 16 miles even with the sore legs. We headed back to town and dropped off TJ’s rental. Next up were showers for $5 at the Fruita Fitness center, and finally, we chowed down on more pizza. In the evening, we played Fluxx for hours, and messed around with long exposure pictures of the lights of town so far below our lovely campsite.