Category Archives: Rock Climbing

Friends Doug, Liz and Sean all agreed to help Mark and I redeem ourselves on the walls of North Table Mtn this weekend. We met at the trailhead on Saturday morning at around 9a, and headed back up to those dark, south-facing basalt crags looking for another adventure.

It was so nice to be back out climbing with the gang! There’s a bunch of photos up in the gallery.

I’m not going to wax too poetic about the trip. The new guidebook makes trips to Golden so much easier, and we got there early enough to hop on some classic moderates before the crowds showed up.

We started out the morning with Mark leading Pack ‘o Bobs (5.7), and Doug put up a brilliant lead on Wholly Holey (5.8). Per the usual, both climbs felt stiff for their ratings. I think Liz is the only person who didn’t come down from both complaining about how the climbs seemed to be harder than 5.8, but this could be because she is sweet and doesn’t complain. Thankfully, this time, Mark and I both felt better on the rock. While I couldn’t pull the roof on Wholly Holey, I felt strong and confidant on the other two, and Mark had good climbs without too much pain either.

Around lunchtime, we headed over and put up ropes on Windy Days (5.8) and Pee on Dee (5.8), with Doug leading the former and Mark the latter. We all took laps on these routes and decided they seemed much more in-line with their grades. It’s likely we were all starting to get warmed up by this time, and felt more comfortable with the slopers and hidden crimps at North Table. I was unimpressed with Windy Days, as the anchor was too low over the roof to make pulling over it necessary or fun, and the route felt a little contrived. Pee on Dee, however, was the gem of the day. A lovely crack and face climb that was just the right amount of fun.

After four climbs, we were all done for the day. The sun had moved into the western sky, and clouds were starting to build, making our sunny cliff suddenly chilly. We packed up, and headed out, only to find out when we got to the cars that it was only 2:30 in the afternoon. Oh well, it felt like a good long day!

I’m finally back in town, the sun was out, and Mark and I were itching to get back out for some rock climbing. Our last trip out was in mid-Novemeber, almost three months ago, but we didn’t care. We got up bright and early and headed south to climb on the sunny basalt cliffs of North Table Mountain.

It turns out, Mark and I lost a lot of strength, hand callouses, and confidence in that time. I think I may have spent more time taking pictures than climbing, and there are some nice pictures in the gallery.

We got the parking lot just after 9am. The parking lot was nearly empty. We hiked up to a quiet, and nearly vacant cliff, and were able to hop on two of the most popular climbs on the cliff without any wait.

When Mark and I started the morning on Thelma (5.7), we knew it was going to be a rough day. Mark finished the lead cleanly, but complained repeatedly that it didn’t seem like 5.7. I fell once or twice and came down with a burning feeling in my arms, shoulders and back. We both top-roped Louise (5.8) next, and both felt exhausted and burnt-up by the end of the climb.

I had to take about half an hour before my hands came back around to be able to even belay. We took our time for the next couple of hours. Taking pictures, enjoying the sun, playing with dogs and visiting with other climbers. Eventually, Mark started up Kid’s Climb (5.9), a climb which became humiliating on several levels. Mark fell three times, with one good-sized lead fall that sent me flying as well. I thrashed my way up as well, with my hands becoming useless about 2/3s of the way up.

It was great to get out on the rock, and get some sun on our pale skin. But also a hard reminder of what happens when you take a long break from the sport. We’ve got some catching-back-up to do.

Well, Thursday night came and went, and Mark and I didn’t get ready to leave for Shelf. Camping in the desert in winter is fun – but night comes early. You have to bring friends or entertainment with you, or you end up going to bed at 6:30p. And we couldn’t seem to rustle up either one. So, we stayed home, slept in our warm bed, and then waited for the sun to come up on Saturday before heading north to local sport climbing at the Palace.

The sun was bright, and the river was very low. On our crossing, though, the rocks had a thin patina of ice that was sneaky and horrible. I slid down one boulder on my butt and landed, on my back, in the ice cold river!

We hiked up to the sunny side, the Poudre Face, and I started out the morning attempting to lead B.A.H. (5.9). Somewhere around the second bolt, Mark got cold and decided to wander over to get his t-shirt. When I looked down to see my belayer missing, I had a lovely little panic attack. Needless to say, I lowered off and Mark finished the lead. I climbed it twice on TR, hoping the laps would help me gain confidence enough to attempt a pink point, but by the end of the second, my hands were sore, my shoulders exhausted, and I had just found my final excuse for not leading on Saturday.

We both took a lap up Palace Guard (5.10b) while the TR was on it. Another very fun climb.

The sun set early in the evening, and our late arrival did not leave enough time to get much climbing in. On the way back to the car, Mark made it across the rocks without getting wet, and I plowed straight across the river – actually much less painful. Were two climbs worth the cold water, the panic attack, the drive and the hiking? Actually, yes.

Too much to blog! Not enough time!

Our first weekend back in town surely had to be spent climbing. Doug and Liz called us, and after some debating, we decided to head up to the Ironclads. Then, an hour later, I walked the dog and noticed that the mountains were enshrouded in clouds. So, we all decided to head south to North Table Mountain.

There’s a few pictures in the Gallery. Not many, though. I wasn’t in a very photographic mood, I suppose.

Mark started out the morning leading (according to Doug, because I suck with the guidebook) Chunky Monkey (5.10a) with one of his shoes and one of Doug’s. Mark made the climb look really easy, but the rest of us had a rough time on it.

Doug led up Honey I Shrunk the Hemmorrhoids (5.7) for his warmup. We were all shocked later to find out this was a 5.7. Seems like it had some very hard parts to it. It’s hard to imagine an “outdoor gym” like NTM would have so many sandbags, but if you’re not used to the rock, the routes can seem much harder than their grades.

At the end of the day, Mark hung topropes on an Unnamed 5.9 with a big roof and an Unnamed 5.10 that followed a long, sharp arrete. It was enough climbing to wear us all out, and several good routes. I’m looking forward to the new guidebook coming out, so we can spend more time really exploring the cliffline.

Also, as we moved the ropes over to the two TRs, a fellow and his friend arrived at the base of the cliff and helped us figure out what climbs we were on. We enjoyed hanging out with them as we finished up our routes, and I found out later that this was Curtis of knick-knack.com. It’s fun to meet another climbing photographer/blogger – even if you don’t find out about it until later!

My favorite part of climbing has almost always been meeting other climbers. We are a group, a community, and it seems everybody who pursues the sport has an interesting story to share. On our second day of climbing at Smith Rock, we met a fun fellow climber named Menno.

I think I was getting tied in to climb and clean The Outsiders, when Menno, being a very nice helpful person, ran and grabbed my shoes for me. I’ve been climbing in Montrail Zealots for the last year or so, and when he brought them over, he asked how I liked them. I know Mark and I have been climbing a lot of trad in recent years, and these shoes are considered “aggressive” and best for sport or bouldering. But I love them. I buy them a bit too large, and they fit me great. They have flexible soles that work well on slabs, and tiny toes that work great for edging and thin cracks. I expounded on the virtues and wonderfulness of my shoes to Menno as I tied in.

“That’s great,” he said. “I owned the company that made them.”

That’s when I noticed that Menno was wearing a Montrail jacket, a Montrail hat, and Montrail shoes of his own. Menno is Menno van Wyk, the former CEO of Montrail. About a year ago, they sold the company to Columbia, and the climbing shoe line has since been discontinued.

“Oh,” I said. “Wow. So, that’s why I keep getting them on close-out for super cheep.”

He laughed. He told me the person who designed my shoes was from Oregon, and often climbed at Smith Rock. My shoes were designed with technical, edgy, routes like those at Smith Rock specifically in mind. It makes a lot of sense, and made me immensely happy to be climbing in the birthplace of my shoes.

Menno said he had quite a few pairs of shoes left over, and as he headed out for the day, he took Mark’s card, with the casual promise that if he had any more size 5 Zealots’s laying around, he’d get in touch with us and send them my way.

Great guy, that Menno. Too bad my shoes are discontinued.

Wednesday was our last full day in Bend, so we took advantage of some beautiful weather and headed north for Smith Rocks. This time, we left early in the morning, with the intention of getting in as many routes as possible on our last day to climb. The park was much less crowded, and we managed to get on some fantastic, classic routes. Definitely check out all the cool pics in the gallery.

We started out the morning on Cinnamon Slab, a section of the Dihedrals. We had a very popular 2-pitch climb to our left, but nobody seemed interested in our fun, super-easy warm-ups.

We climbed Easy Reader (5.6), Right Slab Crack (5.6), and Lichen It (5.8) in the morning. While we were working on Lichen It, a fellow named Menno wandered up. His partner had enough climbing the day before, and he saw our group of three and wondered if anybody would be interested in partnering with him. We explained that, as Bruce is a newer climber, we couldn’t really break up the group, but offered him a climb on our TR. He graciously cleaned the route for us, and ended up climbing with our group for the rest of the day.

After our warm up, we wandered back over to Morning Glory Wall, and, miraculously, the most popular climb in the park was open! We tied a rope on Mark and tossed him up 5 Gallon Buckets (5.8).

This put us in line for the rest of the moderate routes on Morning Glory. After we all took a fun trip up the gi-normous pockets, pods and huecos on 5-Gallon, we got to enjoy them again when we climbed up the route 6 feet to the right, The Outsiders (5.9).

Mark’s parents came up to Smith Rock for a bit in the afternoon, and they enjoyed watching us climb up the hugely pocketed wall. Mark’s mom hiked up to the base of the wall and quizzed us on the climbing process, safety gear, and our techniques. She seemed satisfied that we weren’t going to die any time soon, and enjoyed watching everybody climbing.

At the end of the day, Menno offered to lead Light On The Path (5.10a). We got the first bolt stick-clipped, and he worked on that direct start for a good few minutes before figuring out a path. It was tricky. After all of that work, and the climbing all day, he was pretty tuckered out when the pockets ran out and the crimping started. He took a few good lead falls, and then lowered and decided to call it a day.

Mark pulled the tricky start with a high, possibly gratuitous, heal-hook and monkey’d up the bottom of the climb. He finished out leading thin top section in good style, leaving Bruce and I with the assurance that the climb wasn’t too hard. Bruce had a heck of a time with the start, but we got him on the route. He climbed to failure in the buckets and then lowered down. I took a few tries to figure out the bottom, myself, and then happily cruised the rest of the climb, stopping frequently to shake out my hands and arms. It was a great climb to end the day on, with huge pockets, mono pockets, pebble pinching, crimpy ledges, and even a soft-ball sized rock glued into the volcanic rock of the wall, which you can sit on to clean the anchors!

We hiked out in the growing dark, happy with a day VERY well spent.

On Sunday morning we moved slowly. Mark’s aunt and uncle from Portland were down visiting for the weekend, and it was nice to spend time with them. We all went out to a nice, long lunch in the afternoon, and then headed up to Smith Rock late in the day.

Mark was completely shocked when we pulled up to the huge volcanic extrusion in the middle of the Oregon desert. In his mind, we were going to climb in Oregon, which was a quiet place, covered in pine trees. He imagined sport climbing to be more like the Needles in South Dakota. Instead, we were faced with one giant rock, crawling with people all over it. From the trail, we could see nearly 100 people hiking and climbing on the cold, shady side of the rock.

Once we hiked over to the sunny side, we were confronted with the CROWD. There were people everywhere. People climbing routes, set every 4ft, along the wall for the next mile or more. It was loud, and crazy, with babies crying and dogs barking. Mark’s parents stayed down near the river and we hiked up to the wall looking for a moderate or two to get on.

It was fun to talk to the climbers at the base of the crag. I don’t mind a crowded belay station, especially when everybody is friendly and having fun. On Sunday, we kept quizzing people as to what they were climbing as we hiked down the wall. I’d ask “Hey, do you know what this route is?” And the response, over and over again, was “I dunno. Go ask that guy…” or “I dunno. It’s a 9, I think. Or something.”

Eventually we made it over to the Peanut, and Mark roped up to lead Hop On Pop (5.8). It was a great route for the afternoon. Long, fun, knobby, thin, balance-y, my kind of route. Mark was officially freaked out by this time, finding the rock to be a conglomeration of cemented pebbles, and not the usual solid-feeling volcanic rock we’ve climbed on. He also forgot all of his climbing pants, and was leading in blue jeans. He took his time, tested every pebble before pulling on it, and got a good redpoint. He came down happy to have it over-with.

Bruce worked his way up, and found the climbing to be slightly tougher than his last trip out to Joshua Tree. I climbed the route, and loved it desperately. I moved the TR to Peanut Brittle (5.8) for the second climb of the afternoon, and then took a quick lap on the very nice climb. Bruce seconded and Mark cleaned the route. By the end of the afternoon, we were all feeling much more comfortable with the knobbies and pebbles that cover the slabs of Smith.

The sunset seemed to come early again, and we headed out of the park looking for dinner. After tasty brats on the grill at the condos, Mark and I soaked in a hot tub and finished off a near-perfect day of vacation. Yeah, life can be really good.

As mentioned in a previous post, I won a cool watch as a semi-finalist in the Timex Return to the Outdoors contest. After getting many requests to see the aforementioned essay, I finally got a copy back from the people at the website. Here it is!

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“I’m STUCK!” I scream out to anybody who is listening. I can hear my friends laugh out loud and then begin yelling encouragement back to me. The situation does not seem as funny to me. I’m wedged in the teeth of a giant crack in a granite boulder that is, quite literally, older than dirt. My right hand is wedged deep in the darkness before me, and the crystals of the granite are slowly, excruciatingly, tearing the skin on the back of my hand. My left hand is braced against the edge of the rock in front of me, pressing my shoulder and back into the sharp crystalline rock on all sides. My feet kick helplessly as I try to find some way to move. Up or down, it doesn’t matter at this point, I just need to move. I wiggle my knee into the crack and flex my thigh, the muscles expand and bite into the rock on either side. Or maybe the rock is biting me. It gives me enough purchase to slowly ooze up another 6 inches, and reposition for the next move.

I am climbing a wide crack in Vedauwoo, Wyoming, and it is one of my favorite things to do! The rock is old, and it knows better than me. I am little, and the mountain is big. When I finally make it to the top of the crack, and then the top of the rock, I am exhausted in all ways. I sit on top of the rock, bleeding a little, feeling the wind on my face, and feeling utterly content. On all sides of me are huge rock formations. The wind is howling through the aspens below, making them glitter in the sun. I can see a hawk gliding overhead and a herd of antelope grazing on the plain to my south. The air smells like dust, rock, sagebrush and sweat. My friends are chattering a hundred feet below me. And I am truly happy. Vedauwoo is a wild and special place. It is secluded and exposed at the same time. The climbing is painful and exhilarating. The wind blows and I feel full of life. I will come back to this place again and again. I hope to return often for the rest of my life, bringing family, new friends, and eventually my own children and their children. My house may not be in that wild valley, but it is my home.