Category Archives: Rock Climbing

As I type this, my hands are swollen to about twice their normal sizes. My finger prints have been gouged off my fingers. My shoulders are so sore I can’t lift my arms. My knees are covered in bruises and cuts. My right ankle is bleeding. My right wrist is swollen and aching. My toes are just getting feeling back from being wet and numb all afternoon, and we were only in Vedauwoo for 5 hours.

I forgot the camera today, but that’s probably for the best. We were only up in Vedauwoo for the day, and with our late start in the morning, it was more like just an afternoon. We hiked out to Plumb Line crag in the mid-day sun. Mark led Amaranth (5.7), which he felt was harder and more painful than it should have been. I followed and felt pretty strong, but a little happy that I hadn’t led the first climb back in Vedauwoo in 8 months.

Mark dropped a top-rope on Plumb Line (5.9+), and I took the first lap. The beautiful, vertical, slightly overhanging 50ft hand crack is one of the best in Vedauwoo. My hands were bruised from the jams, and my toes crunched in my shoes. But I loved every minute of it.

Mark got in two laps and then lightening started hitting the hills just to our west, so he cleaned the climb. We all piled into a cave at the bottom of the crag as the rain started pouring down. The lightening was close, the hail bounced in and pounded us all. Eventually, the rain ran down the roof of the cave and poured down on our heads, freezing us and soaking our packs and gear with icy water. For some reason, my chalk bag got it the worst, and I found it filled with white soupy goup when we got home.

After the storm passed, we packed up and got the heck out of dodge. On the hike out, I slid down a wet, slippery slab, landing hard on my right arm and hip. More bruises, more pain. None of the injuries seem bad, but my giant balloon hands might take a few days to get back to normal size.

Five short hours in Vedauwoo, and we were sliced open by razor-sharp rock, beaten up by overhanging crack climbs, drenched in icy water, hailed on, and fell down wet slabs. It was a good day – let the Vedauwoo season begin!

In which, Mark runs it out 50ft, we meet Tommy Caldwell, and the beer fairy leaves us a present.

On Friday evening, we met up with Doug and Liz at one of the free campsites perched on the hills above Drake, Colorado, about mid-way up the Big Thompson canyon. This is the last of the National Forest before Estes Park and Rocky Mountain National Park, and the free campsites are popular with all kinds of locals. Usually the sites are covered in trash, bullet casings, and broken glass. But they have fantastic views.

There was an Access Fund clean up scheduled for the camping and parking area on Saturday morning. Doug and Liz filled a trash bag from our site on Friday night, and Saturday we left just as the clean up gang arrived. We confessed that we weren’t going to stay and help any more, but the guy in charge said our little bit of cleaning was appreciated.

We spent our Saturday climbing on the crystalline granite spires in the grotto known as the Monastary. The moderate sport climbs on the Outer Gates row of pillars are long slabs, covered with gnarly crystals of all shapes and sizes. Little cubic quartz crystals and quarter-sized flakes of mica are embedded in the rock like it was shot from a shotgun. Few of the climbs have much in the way of actual holds, and you end up tip-toeing up over 100ft of tiny crystal knobs and pulling on one and two-finger divots between them. I love this place more every time we go.

I started out the morning with a FANTASTIC red-point of CCD, a CLASSIC 5.1 not to be missed! :) Doug and Liz jumped on Going to the Chapel (5.8) for something a bit more spicy. Doug did a great lead, but about 80 ft up, he ran out of bolts. He could see the next 40ft of climbing, and there was no protection to be found. Rather than risk the huge fall, he traversed right 20 ft, and brought Liz up to the anchors on Simplexity (5.9+), which they hung a top-rope on for all of us to enjoy.

Amazingly, Liz followed the long, thin, creepy, slabby, unprotected traverse at the end of the route without any complaints. I tried to explain, once they were on the ground, that, as a second, it is Liz’s responsibility to freak out when faced with such a terrifying climb. She should have done as I have, proudly, many times, and started crying and screaming obscenities at the leader for putting her in that position. Liz said she didn’t see the point. So young, so new.

Mark and I watched Doug and Liz’s adventure from the hillside opposite, and then Mark decided that he had seen a bolt Doug missed, and he wanted to try the route. So, he hopped on the sharp end on Going to the Chapel (5.8) next, with a promise to me that he wouldn’t finish the climb with that traverse.

Instead, he climbed all the way to the top of the rock (130ft), with no bolts after the first 80ft. There was no missed bolt, no bolts at all. He climbed slowly and carefully through a nearly 50ft run-out up an exposed arrete, with only the hope that there were anchors on top. Luckily, there were. Also luckily, I couldn’t see him climbing and had no idea what he had done until I met him at the anchors.

We finished our day with some milder stuff. Liz led CCD and I followed. Doug led the Steeple (5.8) and Mark followed. Storm clouds filled the horizon and thunder had started rumbling through the grotto as we packed up and hiked out.

As we left the shade of the big rocks, Mark met up with two climbers heading into the area. He stopped to talk to them and then called down the hill to me: “Hey Kate, it’s Tommy Caldwell!”

Mark recognized the iconic and amazing pro-climber from the countless movies and news stories we’ve seen him in. At 31 years old, this guy is a legend all over the world, and happened to have developed most of the routes at the Monastery with his father when he was younger. Mark told him that we enjoyed his climbing area quite a lot, and Tommy thanked him and made a bee-line for whatever insanely hard climb he was hoping to get on before it started raining.

The hike out of the Monastery seemed to take forever. We were exhausted from the day, dragging our feet but being chased across the exposed hillsides by thunder and lightening. We wanted to go slow, but didn’t want to get caught in the storm just to our south. As we limped into camp that evening, we were all happily surprised to find a 6-er of Mighty Arrow, the new seasonal beer from New Belgium, left for us by the campsite. Doug declared with glee that the Beer Fairy had left us a present, and we all enjoyed the appreciation of the Access Fund around the campfire that night.

Sunday morning we all woke up to a little sun cracking through the windows at Dylan and Ann’s loft. The forecast didn’t look much better, but the peaks of sunlight gave us hope. We packed up and head to local Santa Fe climbs in Diablo Canyon.

The photos from the weekend are up in the gallery.

By the time we got to the crag, the clouds had closed in again, but, this time, the rain didn’t pour out. We hiked up to the big Sundevil Wall, threw down our packs and started up a few routes.

Claire led the first route, putting up a great climb of Post Moderate (5.9). Dylan took off on Hell Boy (5.8+) right behind her. After they made it up a few bolts, we had a few sprinkles, and the decision was made to climb only first pitches.

This worked out well. As the sprinkles came and went for an hour or so, we all took turns climbing the nice moderates on the dark, volcanic rock. Eventually, the skies cleared for about an hour, and we actually got some sun to warm and dry the desert around us. A few people got on Highly Caffeinated (5.10-) as a top rope using the same anchor from Post Moderate.

Dylan led up the long Naked Lunch (5.10), and then Claire followed the full 150ft to the high perch. As they worked on setting a two-rope top-rope for the long climb, the first rolls of a distant thunder washed up on our cliff sides. We quickly had two climbers run up the first two routes and clean the anchors, and Dylan and Claire rapped off their climb.

As we packed up, quickly, thunder and lighting blew in from a big storm to our south. A few of us threw our gear in our packs and jogged down the hill to the cars. Others moved a little slower, but were lucky to run into two hikers on their way out of the canyon. The hikers directed a few at the bottom of the cliff to check out “the really cool thing” that was just around the corner of the cliff wall.

On the far side, was a crazy solar powered ice cream cart! I didn’t get to see the installation art piece, but Mark had a tasty ice cream bar and was video recorded for the artist’s work. I hear it was a very cool thing.

In the afternoon, we waited out the storm and the hail at the Second Street Brewery. (As per Ann’s comment, Saturday was actually at the Santa Fe brewery.) I had very tasty nachos, a nap in the loft, and another evening of fun card games and camp food on the deck.

Monday morning, we got breakfast in downtown Santa Fe, and wandered a bit through adobe shops to the local REI, where I managed to keep the total under $100. Mark and I said goodbye to everybody and headed home. The Memorial Day Weekend gatherings are fun, no matter the weather, or the amount of climbing, and I think we should do this more than once a year!

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.

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

The weather has been warm, beautiful and dry for months. Our soil is drying up and blowing away on the Front Range. The water managers are starting to wake up at night screaming about the snowpack. And Mark and I were able to get in spring climbing at Vedauwoo a full month earlier than usual.

We pulled out all of the reslung cams on Friday night. The week before, we invested in a new pair of double ropes (Mammut Genesis 8.5mm) to use on Lumpy and in the Park this summer. I also even bought a new Petzl Reverso 3 when I discovered last week that the edge on one side of my old one was worn to a razor sharp edge. So, all kinds of exciting new gear to play with this weekend too!

There are very few climbs in Vedauwoo that you can reasonably do with double ropes. The subset of these that are south facing is an even smaller number of climbs. Luckily, Ed’s Crack fits all of our criteria. It’s two pitches run straight up a beautiful hand crack to a short off-width roof. A double rope rappel gets you right back down to where you started.

Mark was so excited on Saturday morning that he taped up before we left the house. As we pulled out of the driveway, our neighbor stopped us to talk, and exclaimed “Mark! What happened to your hands!?!” We looked at the medical/athletic tape covering the backs of his hands and laughed. “Nothing, yet.”

The main area was still closed when we arrived, so we parked (for free) outside of the gate. There was snow back in the trees, but the road, the base of the climb, the crack and the top of the rocks were all completely snow-free. The sun was shining on us all morning, right up until we set up the rap for the trip down.

We ate lunch as the clouds and wind rolled in. Our ambition to climb more was eroded faster than the dusty topsoil in my garden. We hung out with a cool guy named Chris who was out ropesoloing 4th of July crack that morning. We hiked around the base of the main area and checked out Mainstreet (10a) and Fallout (9), both of which look like they’d definitely go.

It was a warm and mellow day. Shocking weather for Vedauwoo in mid-March. Though, two days later, the weather in Vedauwoo looked like this…

We might not be back for a week or two.

On Sunday morning, we rolled out of the tent and were greated with overcast skies and a chill in the air. We took our time getting the camp cleaned up, making breakfast and getting ready for the day. After a few hours, the clouds burned off of our part of the valley, and the sun came out. The temperature started to rise rapidly, and we decided to head to the nearby cliffs in Sand Gulch.

There’s photos from the weekend in the gallery.

When we got to the Contest Wall area of Sand Gulch, the area was quiet, and there were only a couple of people around. The sun was shining brightly, and the cliff was very warm. I spent Sunday basking in the spring sun in my tank top. The weather at the rim of the valley felt for all the world like a beautiful mid-summer afternoon.

Mark and I dropped the rope and set up to climb Times Square (5.8) for the morning warm-up. After a fun romp up that route, we hiked down the trail a bit further to check out some new routes that we noticed the last time we were up there. There are probably 2 or 3 new routes just north of Suburbia, and I haven’t had much luck in finding out information on any of them since we got home.

We decided to climb a long route, covered in pockets and bulges, that stuck out a bit from the wall, and was south-facing enough to get sun when the rest of the east-facing crag was starting into the shade. Mark put up a nice, long lead. The rock was sandy, and felt sketchy and full of possibly loose holds. The top of the climb was confusing, as the bolts moved right around the side of a huge (4ft) roof. Once Mark made it up to the bolt to the right of the roof, he was not sure where to go. He called over to somebody on top of a climb about 20ft to our left, and they said there were anchors about 8ft to his left. He made a careful traverse across the edge of the roof, 100ft up, with all of the loose rock and air of the valley below him.

When it was my turn to follow on top-rope and clean, I was pretty nervous. The rope was bent over the lip of the roof above me in a creepy looking way. Shelf Road limestone can be soft and sandy or bone hard and sharp as needles. This route had layers of everything. The pockets were huge and fun, and pulling the steep overhang on big holds was awesome. But that roof. Woo. When I finally got up to it, I wasn’t sure what to do. If I went right, Mark assured me that the traverse across the lip would be just as unprotected for me on a sideways toprope as it was for him on lead. I couldn’t find anything to use to pull up the bottom of the roof from below it. I ended up swallowing my pride, swinging out on the rope and bat-manning (pulling up on the belay line to haul myself up a few feet) up to eye level with the edge of that big roof.

There were jugs all over it! And the rope was in good shape on a flat section of wall, in no peril of damage from sharp rock. I hooked my heal and pulled over the edge with a little hoot. I cleaned the route and came down just as the last of the sun left our wall. So, we packed up and hiked back to the car. When we got back on the road, my hands were raw from the rock, my shoulders and stomach was sore from climbing, my back and cheeks were stinging from sunburn. That’s a good weekend.

Last weekend, Mark and I snuck away for an early season trip to climb at Shelf Road. I’m sorry that we did not invite anybody on this trip, but we wanted a chance to truly suck without feeling self-conscious. Luckily, our climbing turned out a bit better than we expected.

There’s a lot of nice photos from the weekend in the gallery. I didn’t get much in the way of climbing action shots, but I tried to get a lot of pictures of the area, to give a good feel for the perfect limestone cliffs in the high desert of Southern Colorado.

On Saturday, we had clear skies and bright sun, with a brisk northerly wind that kept the whole area feeling just a little chilly. We climbed in long-sleeve shirts and pants. I love my MH Butter Topper, it is now my new favorite piece of climbing clothing.

We ticked off 5 routes on Cactus Cliffs on Saturday, including classic favorites like Crynoid Corner (5.7), and Red Eclipse (5.10c/d), which Mark and I were convinced was actually rated 5.9. We then finally had a chance to get on the popular moderates Black Slabbeth (5.10a), Ol’ 47 (5.9+) and finally Amiga (5.10b/c).

Mark and I agreed that all of the climbs on Saturday were lots of fun, but Ol’ 47, surprisingly, took the crown. It was a lovely, short, perfectly fun slab climb, with lovely balancy moves and a tricky little top-out. By the end of the day, our hands were raw from the sharp limestone, and our feet were aching from the slab work. We hiked out in the late afternoon, and then drove into town to buy me a cheep replacement sleeping pad, as mine had evidently sprung a leak, and I slept mostly on the cold ground Friday night (ick).

We cooked dinner, had a little fire, and then I spent about an hour running around in the desert night taking long exposure shots of stars, cactuses, and our tent. At one point, I put my hand down to steady myself in the dark, and ended up grabbing a prickly pear. I yelped, and ran to the car looking for tweezers to pull all of the barbs out. Luckily, it seemed there was little overall damage to my hand, and I slept great on my foam pad from Walmart on Saturday night.