Red Amaryllis, originally uploaded by ParsecTraveller.
After purchasing this amaryllis bulb 3 years ago, I never figured it would bloom again.
Well, this spring, it did!
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
The Three-Year-Old Amaryllis That Bloomed
Red Amaryllis, originally uploaded by ParsecTraveller.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Salty Lemonade for Cycling
A few people have asked about the "salty lemonade" I mentioned in the previous post, and it's really very simple: When I fill my water bottles before a long ride, I add a pinch of salt and also some lemon juice to the water. In conjunction with snacks containing potassium, magnesium, calcium and sugar (i.e. bananas and milk), this mixture helps replenish electrolytes lost during cycling, especially in hot weather - which in turn can help prevent leg muscle cramps and lightheadedness that some experience on long and strenuous rides. Several cyclists I know prefer this method to consuming commercial sports drinks and gels, and it works for us.
Some points to consider about the Salty Lemonade:
. Do not overdo it on the salt. What I call a "pinch" I have seen defined as 1/8 of a teaspoon, which seems about right.
. The reason for adding lemon juice is mostly to balance out the salty taste. The sourness of it adds a nice refreshing element as well.
. Some like to fill one bottle with a weaker concentration of the mix than the other, alternating between them depending on how much they are sweating. Having bottles that look different from one another helps if you're going to do this.
. On long trips where you know you'll be able to refill your water bottle, you can also carry single-use salt packets to add to the fresh water.
. If you have been advised against a high-sodium diet, obviously consult with your physician prior to consuming anything like this (including commercially available sports drinks).
. As mentioned earlier, salty water alone is not enough to restore electrolytes, so make sure to supplement with appropriate snack foods. Bananas work best for me in this regard, and they are easy to eat while on the bike.
While many cyclists thrive on commercial sports drinks, others prefer more natural, home-made solutions and this can be one of them. Please feel free to share your own.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
The Copper Falls Trail
Monday, August 8th - - For some reason, I was quite ambitious today and went on a second hike. This was a 1.7 mile loop through the forest, along the river, with a few stair-steps involved as well as some other downhill/uphill sections where there were some handrails to help provide support. I'm not ashamed to admit that I made ample use of the handrails!
The trail would also cross two rivers in three places on very sturdy foot bridges and we'd see several waterfalls along the way. The pictures I took really do not do it justice. To fully appreciate the area you have to be there – feel the spray from the water and hear the roar of the river as it drops over the ledges and through the narrow passageways that it has carved out over many years. This was one hike that was definitely worth the effort!
A small portion of Copper Falls, which drops about 12 feet, on the Mad River. Like the Tahquamenon Falls, the copper color comes from tannin in the water.
A slightly better angle, but still showing only a small part of the falls.
This view shows it a little better – how the river has carved two paths around and through the stone walls of the canyon - but I think the only way you could get a really good shot of this falls would be by being suspended over the river in front of the falls, with a wide angle lens on the camera!
Flowing in a northeasterly direction, the Mad River essentially “runs into” a stone wall, making an abrupt left turn to the west. Coming in from the east is Tyler Forks. Visualize a rather crooked “T” with Mad River being the long upright part as well as the left hand part. Tyler Forks would be the right hand side of the “T” with a bit of a zig and zag just before and after it meets up with the Mad River.
Brownstone Falls is created when Tyler Forks plunges down 30 feet to join the Mad River. The name Brownstone comes from the color of the rocks surrounding it. They were formed eons ago from lava flows that contained small quantities of iron. Tyler Forks curves off to the right, eastward, above Brownstone Falls.
This picture provides no perspective whatsoever! But, there is the Mad River coming in at the top of the picture. The “whitewater” at the bottom of the image is actually Brownstone Falls dropping over the edge of a 30 foot cliff, plunging down and meeting up with the Mad River. Together they continue their journey as Mad River, veering off to the right (where the white foam is in the center of the photo). The sound was incredible. Not nearly as loud as Niagara Falls by any means or even Upper Tahquamenon Falls, but the sound reverberated around the canyon.
Okay, maybe this is a little better. But it still appears as though the water is flowing in from the right and the bottom and going out the top. You'll have to trust me, it isn't.
Adding to the sound of falling water was Tyler Cascades, which is a set of four smaller waterfalls just above and to the east of Brownstone Falls. Simply Gorgeous!
The trail followed Tyler Forks to the east a little ways then crossed at a point just above the cascades. By then the roar of Brownstone Falls was muted and the sound of the water tumbling over the rocks was quite soothing.
Oh, yes! This was one hike that was definitely worth the effort! And I savored every minute of it...
The trail would also cross two rivers in three places on very sturdy foot bridges and we'd see several waterfalls along the way. The pictures I took really do not do it justice. To fully appreciate the area you have to be there – feel the spray from the water and hear the roar of the river as it drops over the ledges and through the narrow passageways that it has carved out over many years. This was one hike that was definitely worth the effort!
A small portion of Copper Falls, which drops about 12 feet, on the Mad River. Like the Tahquamenon Falls, the copper color comes from tannin in the water.
A slightly better angle, but still showing only a small part of the falls.
This view shows it a little better – how the river has carved two paths around and through the stone walls of the canyon - but I think the only way you could get a really good shot of this falls would be by being suspended over the river in front of the falls, with a wide angle lens on the camera!
Flowing in a northeasterly direction, the Mad River essentially “runs into” a stone wall, making an abrupt left turn to the west. Coming in from the east is Tyler Forks. Visualize a rather crooked “T” with Mad River being the long upright part as well as the left hand part. Tyler Forks would be the right hand side of the “T” with a bit of a zig and zag just before and after it meets up with the Mad River.
Brownstone Falls is created when Tyler Forks plunges down 30 feet to join the Mad River. The name Brownstone comes from the color of the rocks surrounding it. They were formed eons ago from lava flows that contained small quantities of iron. Tyler Forks curves off to the right, eastward, above Brownstone Falls.
This picture provides no perspective whatsoever! But, there is the Mad River coming in at the top of the picture. The “whitewater” at the bottom of the image is actually Brownstone Falls dropping over the edge of a 30 foot cliff, plunging down and meeting up with the Mad River. Together they continue their journey as Mad River, veering off to the right (where the white foam is in the center of the photo). The sound was incredible. Not nearly as loud as Niagara Falls by any means or even Upper Tahquamenon Falls, but the sound reverberated around the canyon.
Okay, maybe this is a little better. But it still appears as though the water is flowing in from the right and the bottom and going out the top. You'll have to trust me, it isn't.
Adding to the sound of falling water was Tyler Cascades, which is a set of four smaller waterfalls just above and to the east of Brownstone Falls. Simply Gorgeous!
The trail followed Tyler Forks to the east a little ways then crossed at a point just above the cascades. By then the roar of Brownstone Falls was muted and the sound of the water tumbling over the rocks was quite soothing.
Oh, yes! This was one hike that was definitely worth the effort! And I savored every minute of it...
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Jeff Lowe?
Jeff Lowe at the base of Metanoia. Alone, in the winter of 1991 overnine days of climbing he climbed throughbadweather, took a near-fatal fall and suceededin establishing the new route on the Eiger, Metanoia. Photo courtesy of Jon Krakauer
Jeff at court and everyone including Mark smiling :)I was lucky enough to attend Jeff's birthday party in Utah at the Snow Basin Ski Area a few weeks ago.
The attending crowd of a hundred or so was like a who's who' in American alpine climbing. With Colorado and Utah obviously giving a good showing. Huge pleasure and an honor for me to be able to be there.
I have tried to keep on on Jeff's Metanoia Film Project but am always learning new things.
First was, with even some of the best of the current generation trying no one has repeated the route. Not on a top rope for the film and notwithout trying including a big fall on a serious attempt last year.
The most recent climbers have included Ueli Steck, Josh Wharton and Daniel Mader. None beginners.
Heard that Jeff got buy some of the most difficult sections of the climb via free climbing and a whisk broom to brush away the snow. Jeff took a big fall on this route as well. Makes modern dry tooling seem....well seemingly ineffective may be in this case.
I may have posted this previous but thought it worth while again.
More video and ways to support the filming effort here:
http://jeffloweclimber.com/
Friday, June 19, 2009
Aunt Leah and Tatting
Dave Tabler's post this morning at Appalachian History on Reviving the ancient art of tatting reminded me of my aunt Eva Leah Wiseman Shock (my Dad's sister). Beside Aunt Leah's chair at her home in Goshen, Indiana was a bag full of thread. As she sat there visiting with my parents she'd pull out some weird looking thing and start to work. We weren't allowed to touch anything at her house, especially that bag. And, at the time, we didn't even know what she was doing. Years later my mom would tell us about Aunt Leah and her tatting.
Aunt Leah was born on February 4, 1908 in Tippecanoe Township, Kosciusko County, Indiana and was the second child born to Elsie Shuder and Charles Wiseman. The day before Leah's 18th birthday her mother died in a fire that destroyed the small house the family was living in, and from what I've been told, devastated the family as well. There were seven other children in the household with Perry being the oldest at 19 years of age, and my Dad being the youngest, just a little over 2 years old.
In the 1930 Federal Census (Tippecanoe Township, Kosciusko County, Indiana, E.D. 43-20, sheet 6B) the five youngest children are enumerated in the household of their grandparents, Samuel and Amanda Wiseman. I haven't yet found Grandpa Charlie or Perry and Leah in the 1930 census yet so I don't know where they were living. It's possible that Grandpa Charlie was in jail. Newspaper clippings show that he was arrested numerous times between 1909 and well into the 1930's for fishing with a net, bootlegging, and other minor infractions of the law. It's no wonder that Aunt Leah ended up in a mental institution for a while. She would somehow eventually be rescued from that place by her future husband, Ervin Shock (we always called him Shocky). They were married on April 13, 1941 in Elkhart County and made their home at 321 ½ First Street in Goshen. First Street was the first street to the east of the Elkhart River, hence it's name. When we were older, the first place we'd head for when visiting Aunt Leah was the river and the park on the other side.
Aunt Leah was born on February 4, 1908 in Tippecanoe Township, Kosciusko County, Indiana and was the second child born to Elsie Shuder and Charles Wiseman. The day before Leah's 18th birthday her mother died in a fire that destroyed the small house the family was living in, and from what I've been told, devastated the family as well. There were seven other children in the household with Perry being the oldest at 19 years of age, and my Dad being the youngest, just a little over 2 years old.
In the 1930 Federal Census (Tippecanoe Township, Kosciusko County, Indiana, E.D. 43-20, sheet 6B) the five youngest children are enumerated in the household of their grandparents, Samuel and Amanda Wiseman. I haven't yet found Grandpa Charlie or Perry and Leah in the 1930 census yet so I don't know where they were living. It's possible that Grandpa Charlie was in jail. Newspaper clippings show that he was arrested numerous times between 1909 and well into the 1930's for fishing with a net, bootlegging, and other minor infractions of the law. It's no wonder that Aunt Leah ended up in a mental institution for a while. She would somehow eventually be rescued from that place by her future husband, Ervin Shock (we always called him Shocky). They were married on April 13, 1941 in Elkhart County and made their home at 321 ½ First Street in Goshen. First Street was the first street to the east of the Elkhart River, hence it's name. When we were older, the first place we'd head for when visiting Aunt Leah was the river and the park on the other side.
The photograph of Ervin and Eva Leah Shock, with her nephew Bill Conrad, was probably taken in 1941.
Mom says that Leah learned tatting from her grandmother, Amanda Minerva Alexander Wiseman. The skill was not passed down to the younger generation and there are not many examples of Aunt Leah's work left that I am aware of, except for several items that my cousin Caroline was given. Those are shown above. Aunt Leah passed away on January 9, 1967 at her home in Goshen and is buried next to her parents in the North Webster cemetery.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Silver Springs Nature Theme Park
Today we visited Silver Springs. This is one place we planned to visit since we arrived in this area. We were going to buy a season pass, along with Rich and Donna, and at the last minute Donna saw something on their website. They were in the process of changing ownership, and along with that they were reducing their attractions down to their glass boat rides. So we decided not to buy the season pass and just to make a trip here sometime. We were going to visit yesterday and went to Ocala NF instead. We did make it today, which was the final day at the park before it did change hands.
The employees that were working today were understandably emotional over it being the last day. One employee told us that over 300 people lost their job due to its closing. I wish we had visited this interesting place while it was in full operation, because it looked like a great place. There appeared to be animals, a water park, shows and some rides. As the website said, there is not much there at this point except the glass boat rides. The trip was worth it even with that being the only attraction. The really neat part about a glass boat is that everyone can have a front row seat.
The other neat thing is you can see just how clear the water is and just how deep the water is. It makes for a really beautiful ride.
The springs pump out 550 million gallons of water a day. It is enough to support New York City.
We saw two alligators while on the boat ride, and lots of turtles.
After our boat ride, we ate lunch there and then walked around to see the rest of the park. The rest of the park was beautiful also.
I'm so glad we did make it before it became a state park. It was nice to feel like we were a part of its history. I'm excited to see what they will do with it once it becomes a state park.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Revisiting My First 5.9's: Bonnie's Roof, Ants' Line & Directissima
This post will eventually describe the climbing I did on Labor Day weekend with my old pal Parker.
But first I want to talk about what I did this summer.
You will recall that I spent a disappointing, rainy week in New Paltz at the end of June/beginning of July.
In the time since then I have been silent.
It has been a wonderful couple of months. I've had exciting travels and adventures.
Unfortunately these exciting travels and adventures did not include rock climbing.
Hence my silence. But I think you, my rock climbing audience, deserve a little taste of what my summer has been about.
I went to New Hampshire twice, and even reached the top of Cannon Cliff. I was in the area on daddy duty, shuttling my two kids to and from summer camp. Climbing was not on the agenda. So although we went to the top of Cannon, we did not scale the cliff via a classic route like Moby Grape (5.8). Instead we took the Aerial Tramway.
(Photo: View down Cannon Mountain from the Tramway on a somewhat foggy day.)
While we were in Franconia Notch State Park we also took in the sights of the Flume Gorge. This natural rock channel is nice, though not nearly as nice as the rock climbing that is available just up the road. The hike through the gorge is fun, I guess. I recommend it if you are in Franconia Notch and by some cruel turn of fate you are not allowed to go rock climbing.
(Photo: The Flume Gorge in Franconia Notch State Park, NH.)
After I dropped the kids at camp, my wife Robin and I found ourselves for the first time in many years with two weekends completely free of the children, during which we could do whatever we wanted. This was my big opportunity. I could have gone climbing. But it didn't feel right. It seemed more appropriate for us to do things Robin and I would both want to do, as a couple.
(Photo: Montauk Point.)
So we went to the beach on the first weekend, and went hiking in the Adirondacks on the second.
(Photo: Avalanche Pass.)
On our first day in the Adirondacks we did a long day hike from Adirondack Loj past Marcy Dam and on to Avalanche Pass. The hike then continued up from Avalanche Pass to reach the summits of Mt. Iroquois and Mt. Algonquin (the second-highest mountain in New York) before returning to the Adirondack Loj via the trail past Wright Peak. Our route covered more than fourteen miles of wilderness. Much of it was quite rugged and wet. The trail from Avalanche Pass up to the saddle between Iroquois and Algonquin was especially steep and slippery. For much of its length, this segment of the trail required rock-hopping up a running stream. We enjoyed the challenge, and the views got better and better as we progressed, with numerous waterfalls along the way and Mt. Marcy gradually appearing behind the summit of Mt. Colden.
(Photo: Mt. Marcy just starting to peek out from behind Mt. Colden.)
While we were hiking Robin and I passed by quite a few rock climbs. In Avalanche Pass there is a lot of climbing, notably a 5.9 on Mt. Colden called California Flake. When we went through the pass this climb was soaking wet-- it has been a rainy year-- but still I wished I could hop on it. As we continued through the pass we got a great view of the Trap Dike, a long scramble up a huge gully on Mt. Colden. This is also a popular ice route in the winter. The Trap Dike is much bigger than I'd previously realized. It is truly impressive. Even though it is an easy climb, barely fifth-class, I'd love to come back to do it.
From the summit of Mt. Iroquois we had a good partial view of Wallface, the largest cliff in New York. For years I've been itching to do the classic Wallface route Diagonal (5.8), but I've never found the time to do it. It can't be tackled from NYC in a single day. At a bare minimum you'd have to set aside a weekend to get up to the region, hike in, and do the climb. Staring at Wallface from above, seeing the cliff in real life for the first time, I was awestruck. It appeared not just huge, but ominous and spooky. I got chills just looking at it.
(Photo: Wallface Mountain, seen from the summit of Mt. Iroquois.)
On our second day in the Adirondacks, Robin and I did an easier hike up the trail past the peaks known as the Three Brothers to the summit of Big Slide Mountain. (This was about eight miles round trip.) Along the way we got a glimpse of the rock climbing routes on the summit cone of Big Slide Mountain. There are just a few routes (and keep in mind I have not tried them!) but this location features incredible views of the entire Great Range. I would consider returning here for the climbing, as limited as it is, because the setting is especially scenic. As Robin and I discovered, this is a great hike even if you don't partake of the rock climbing at the end. The trail was quite muddy during our visit, which was not a problem except that Robin wasn't wearing her hiking boots. After the long hike the day before, her ankles were sore and it was too painful for her to wear her boots on our second day. So she negotiated the mud in her Converse sneakers. It worked out fine, but I wouldn't recommend Converse All-Stars for hiking, or for much of anything, really. Robin's pair went straight into the trash as soon as we finished the hike.
(Photo: View of the Great Range from the part of Big Slide where the rock climbing begins.)
When our children returned to our custody in mid-August we took off on our biggest adventure of the summer: we flew to London and then sailed off on a ten-day cruise to the fjords of Norway.
This was a family trip with Robin's parents, sisters and nephews. A cruise was not our preference; it was imposed on us. We've never been attracted to the cruise lifestyle and we both expected to feel stifled by the whole environment. I didn't like the idea of being constrained to follow the cruise's schedule, and any cruise, by its very nature, makes it impractical for me to incorporate my two sports-- climbing and cycling-- into the vacation. So we went into the whole cruise thing with low expectations.
(Photo: Kayaking with my daughter at the head of the beautiful Geirangerfjorden, Norway.)
Despite ourselves, we loved the cruise. The ship was pretty swanky, the scenery incredible. Norway is the most beautiful place I've ever been. We sailed by gorgeous fjords, kayaked beneath huge waterfalls, hiked past mirror-like lakes to beautiful blue glaciers, and danced our hearts out every night in the ship's disco.
(Photo: Cruising the Innvikfjorden, Norway.)
(Photo: Aurlandsfjorden at sunrise.)
After the cruise was over we spent a few nights in London. We had wonderful weather and had fun seeing the Tower of London, the Tate Modern, and Buckingham Palace, among other sites.
(Photo: The Tower Bridge in London.)
All of these travels were wonderful, but I'm sad to say that even while I was off seeing the world and having a great time, my obsessed mind never strayed too far from all the climbing I was missing.
I couldn't wait to get back at it. We were due to return home just before Labor Day weekend. I prayed the weather would cooperate. I had a partner lined up: my old buddy Parker, the man who'd braved the rain to belay me when I finally got up the sac to lead MF(5.9). I hadn't climbed with him in nearly two years, but he sent me a message while I was abroad saying he was coming up to the Gunks from Virginia for Labor Day weekend. He asked if I could meet him on Saturday.
Could I?? Hell yes!
The forecast was iffy. It was supposed to be muggy and in the 80's. There was a 40 percent chance of thundershowers.
Ultimately we got pretty lucky. It didn't rain until after 5:00. And the crummy forecast kept the hordes at bay. We had our pick of climbs, even though it was a holiday weekend.
Without meaning to, I ended up revisiting several of the first 5.9's I ever climbed at the Gunks, back in .
I drove up to meet Parker in New Paltz with no big ambitions to fulfill. I hadn't been climbing outside in nearly two months and hadn't seen a climbing gym in weeks. After my cruise vacation I felt fat and out of shape. I had no idea how I'd do once we actually got down to climbing.
Still I didn't want to defeat myself by not even trying, so when we met at the parking lot I volunteered for the first lead and suggested a climb: Bonnie's Roof. I thought it would be a good choice because it is a pretty casual 5.9 with a very well-protected crux. I was pretty sure it would be no problem for me and that it would build confidence. And I thought that if by some miracle I was really feeling good I could run the first pitch right into the Bonnie's Direct finish (also rated 5.9), doing both pitches in one.
Also Bonnie's is one of my favorites and I hadn't been on it this year. Why not give it a go?
Well, it went fine, but it didn't feel all that casual. It was so humid out that I was quickly bathed in sweat. I chalked my hands repeatedly but they still felt slippery. I started placing pro very frequently-- Bonnie's Roof allows placements at will-- and soon I gave up the thought of running both pitches together.
Even though I scaled back my plans I wasn't too worried about the pitch, since the crux protects so well. I remembered my first time on the route, four years ago. It was one of the best days ever: I successfully led CCK (5.7+) onsight and then Bonnie's. Both of them were big deals to me at the time. On that day, while I was still on the ground getting set to start climbing Bonnie's, I remember that a passing stranger suggested to me that I bring the blue #3 Camalot for the crux. On that occasion I had committed, getting fully into the steep bit at the roof before realizing it was time for the blue cam. When I suddenly remembered the stranger's advice, I slammed the piece in and clipped it, then desperately pulled up on the great handholds while my right foot flailed about, trying to get established on the right side of the corner above the roof. Finally I was able to get the foot on the wall and stand up. What a great feeling that was... and of course it was all so unnecessary!
This time, in , I placed the blue cam from below. You can reach right up and slot it behind the point at the end of the roof, before you step up into the steepness. There is no need to desperately plug and go. And with a little footwork the moves are not an issue. It is still a great feeling to get over the roof, and then the rest of the pitch is very casual.
I built a belay at the end of pitch one, wishing I had brought a knife to cut all the junky slings off of the fixed station there. I don't know why this station exists. It is too high up for top-roping and no one raps from it. The slings are all old and faded and it is hard to tell what the newer bits are attached to. I have never used this station without backing it up. If I go up there any time soon I plan to chop it.
Parker made quick work of the Bonnie's Roof Direct finish. I wasn't sure how it would feel to me on this greasy day but I remembered it feeling surprisingly easy last year. This time I think I puzzled over the first move for longer than I did when I led it last year. Chalk it up to my being out of practice. When I finally made the move, slotting my hand in the vertical crack and moving my feet up until I could reach the jugs, it went well and the pitch was over within seconds. I wished I'd led it.
Once we got back to the ground, we saw the cliff was starting to get a little crowded. People were lining up for Ursula (5.5) and there was another party headed up Bonnie's. But I was shocked to see no one on Ants' Line (5.9). If this climb was available I had to do it. Ants' Line is one of those climbs that gets toproped to death, because it has a bolted anchor at the end of the pitch and there is a 5.7 way to reach the bolts (via Sleepwalk). Thus it is seldom open. I hadn't managed to get on it in three years.
Ants' Line was my very first 5.9 lead. It is a first 5.9 for many people because it follows a vertical crack up a corner which eats gear. There is no mysterious crux move but it builds in steepness as it progresses. It requires endurance and good corner technique.
I think I did a pretty good job on this one in . I placed a ton of gear and got tired, but I hung on to the finish. It was another one of those magical days in which it seemed like a whole world was opening up. I led my first 5.8's (Arrow and Airy Aria) earlier in the same day, and when those climbs went really well, I decided to go for it on Ants' Line. The corner looked so inviting. After Ants' Line went down, I felt like I'd become a totally different climber in a single day. Maybe I ascribed too much significance to this one 5.9 lead-- maybe this overconfidence led in some way to my broken ankle on Insuhlation (5.9) later that same year.
In I hoped it would be just another 5.9, well within my limits. I hoped to prove to myself I wasn't as rusty and out of shape as I felt.
I think I probably did a better job on Ants' Line in than I did this time. My hands were so greasy in the humid conditions, I started rushing because I just wanted it over with. Aware that I was getting tired, I didn't execute the moves with much finesse. Still I hung on and completed the pitch. It remains a great climb, and one I will hop on again-- if I ever see it open.
It was Parker's turn and he decided to lead Teeny Face (5.10a) in one pitch. This is one I'd like to lead some time myself. The crux is pretty short, just a couple of crimpy sequences that lead to jugs. I top roped it once with Maryana and really enjoyed it. Following Parker, I liked it very much again. He looked solid negotiating the steep moves up the orange face. The lead looked reasonably well protected to me, although you do make the crux moves above the (bomber) gear. On my turn, the moves seemed harder than I remembered. I got through it, but on one of the crimps I could easily have blown it.
I was starting to feel pretty worn out. Was it the heat? I had planned to lead Obstacle Delusion (5.9) next but after we finished Teeny Face I decided I didn't have to prove anything to anyone and that we might as well dial it back a bit.
I suggested we do Modern Times (5.8+). But when we walked over to it another climber was just starting up.
(Photo: You're in the wrong place, my friend! A climber snookered by the tree into going off-route on Modern Times (5.8+).)
Standing there at the base of Modern Times, Parker and I noticed that, miracle of miracles, the entire High Exposure buttress was empty. Parker mentioned that he'd never done Directissima (5.9). This seemed like a great option for us. I told him I would lead the short 5.8 first pitch, and then he could lead the second, crux pitch and run it together with the glorious 5.6 pitch to the GT Ledge.
This was yet another 5.9 climb that I first attempted in . In retrospect, I don't think I was really ready to lead it at that time. Back then I couldn't figure out the crux move. I ended up falling on the fixed pin at the crux, then hanging, and finally pulling on the draw attached to the pin to reach the next hold. I have since gone back and led it clean. The climb remains one of my favorites. The first two pitches are both odd and little frightening, with tenuous traverses. Then the payoff comes with the beautiful 5.6 climbing up the point of the arete, with great views on either side of you due to your position on a buttress sticking out from the face of the long cliff.
Pitch one of Directissima is a little bit intimidating right off the ground. But I'd led it twice before so with Parker I had little hesitation as I stepped right up into the layback position on the smeary, angled ramp. Once you step up the climbing is easy, with good pro, until you reach the crux move, traversing past the point of the buttress, reaching around a bulge to a big jug. It is a balancy maneuver with poor footholds. There is good pro to your left but the ground feels awfully close. Once you brace yourself and make the reach over, you scamper up and right to a belay ledge next to an obvious, chalked-up finger rail that heads left.
(Photo: Parker at the crux of Directissima (5.9).)
Parker was taking the crux pitch so now I could just sit back and watch. The traditional second pitch of Directissima is only 25 feet long. It traverses straight left for fifteen feet on the narrow finger rail across a steep face, and then a reachy crux move past the pin takes you to a little ledge. The first challenge is getting yourself to commit to the finger rail. It is kind of scary. But once you're in it the finger locks are very good and you can (and should!) get a couple of placements (yellow Alien/Metolius) along the way.
Parker hesitated at first, right at the start of the pitch, but once he moved out onto the face he made it look easy. He is over six feet tall so the crux reach required no special technique from him. He breezed right out to the pin and then moved up to the ledge in no time. Then at my urging he continued, doing the nice 5.6 pitch to the GT Ledge as well. When I followed it went well. I found the traverse to be more comfortable than I remembered and I dispatched the crux move with surprising ease-- I don't want to wreck it for you so I won't say exactly how. But it isn't actually all that reachy if you do it right. I've actually solved it in two different ways.
Once I joined Parker at the GT Ledge it seemed almost churlish not to finish with the crux pitch of High Exposure (5.6+). The climb was just sitting there open, with no one on it and no one waiting. How often does that happen? It had been a few years since I was last on the climb-- if I'm not mistaken I think my last time was when I followed Liz up the pitch in -- and while there may have been a time when I never wanted to do it again, the climb made for a great last pitch of my day with Parker. It was just interesting enough for my rusty bones and brain. With no worries and the humidity finally seeming to lift a little, I started to fully relax and just enjoy myself for the first time all day.
(Photo: The classic top-out shot on High Exposure (5.6+).)
As we descended to the ground, debating whether we should do another climb or call it quits, we could hear the sound of thunder in the distance, heralding not just an incoming storm but with it a change of weather. It was time to declare summer over and go home.
It was sort of a lost summer for me, climbing-wise, with no climbing achievements to savor. Whether I can get in shape for any big accomplishments in the fall remains an open question. So far has been a year in which I've grown increasingly comfortable trying to climb 5.10's in the Gunks, but I still have precious few sends to my credit on such climbs. I do have climbing time mapped out for the autumn, including a couple of days in the 'Dacks in late September, and with some hard work and a little luck I hope I can translate these days into something that feels like progress.
But first I want to talk about what I did this summer.
You will recall that I spent a disappointing, rainy week in New Paltz at the end of June/beginning of July.
In the time since then I have been silent.
It has been a wonderful couple of months. I've had exciting travels and adventures.
Unfortunately these exciting travels and adventures did not include rock climbing.
Hence my silence. But I think you, my rock climbing audience, deserve a little taste of what my summer has been about.
I went to New Hampshire twice, and even reached the top of Cannon Cliff. I was in the area on daddy duty, shuttling my two kids to and from summer camp. Climbing was not on the agenda. So although we went to the top of Cannon, we did not scale the cliff via a classic route like Moby Grape (5.8). Instead we took the Aerial Tramway.
(Photo: View down Cannon Mountain from the Tramway on a somewhat foggy day.)
While we were in Franconia Notch State Park we also took in the sights of the Flume Gorge. This natural rock channel is nice, though not nearly as nice as the rock climbing that is available just up the road. The hike through the gorge is fun, I guess. I recommend it if you are in Franconia Notch and by some cruel turn of fate you are not allowed to go rock climbing.
(Photo: The Flume Gorge in Franconia Notch State Park, NH.)
After I dropped the kids at camp, my wife Robin and I found ourselves for the first time in many years with two weekends completely free of the children, during which we could do whatever we wanted. This was my big opportunity. I could have gone climbing. But it didn't feel right. It seemed more appropriate for us to do things Robin and I would both want to do, as a couple.
(Photo: Montauk Point.)
So we went to the beach on the first weekend, and went hiking in the Adirondacks on the second.
(Photo: Avalanche Pass.)
On our first day in the Adirondacks we did a long day hike from Adirondack Loj past Marcy Dam and on to Avalanche Pass. The hike then continued up from Avalanche Pass to reach the summits of Mt. Iroquois and Mt. Algonquin (the second-highest mountain in New York) before returning to the Adirondack Loj via the trail past Wright Peak. Our route covered more than fourteen miles of wilderness. Much of it was quite rugged and wet. The trail from Avalanche Pass up to the saddle between Iroquois and Algonquin was especially steep and slippery. For much of its length, this segment of the trail required rock-hopping up a running stream. We enjoyed the challenge, and the views got better and better as we progressed, with numerous waterfalls along the way and Mt. Marcy gradually appearing behind the summit of Mt. Colden.
(Photo: Mt. Marcy just starting to peek out from behind Mt. Colden.)
While we were hiking Robin and I passed by quite a few rock climbs. In Avalanche Pass there is a lot of climbing, notably a 5.9 on Mt. Colden called California Flake. When we went through the pass this climb was soaking wet-- it has been a rainy year-- but still I wished I could hop on it. As we continued through the pass we got a great view of the Trap Dike, a long scramble up a huge gully on Mt. Colden. This is also a popular ice route in the winter. The Trap Dike is much bigger than I'd previously realized. It is truly impressive. Even though it is an easy climb, barely fifth-class, I'd love to come back to do it.
From the summit of Mt. Iroquois we had a good partial view of Wallface, the largest cliff in New York. For years I've been itching to do the classic Wallface route Diagonal (5.8), but I've never found the time to do it. It can't be tackled from NYC in a single day. At a bare minimum you'd have to set aside a weekend to get up to the region, hike in, and do the climb. Staring at Wallface from above, seeing the cliff in real life for the first time, I was awestruck. It appeared not just huge, but ominous and spooky. I got chills just looking at it.
(Photo: Wallface Mountain, seen from the summit of Mt. Iroquois.)
On our second day in the Adirondacks, Robin and I did an easier hike up the trail past the peaks known as the Three Brothers to the summit of Big Slide Mountain. (This was about eight miles round trip.) Along the way we got a glimpse of the rock climbing routes on the summit cone of Big Slide Mountain. There are just a few routes (and keep in mind I have not tried them!) but this location features incredible views of the entire Great Range. I would consider returning here for the climbing, as limited as it is, because the setting is especially scenic. As Robin and I discovered, this is a great hike even if you don't partake of the rock climbing at the end. The trail was quite muddy during our visit, which was not a problem except that Robin wasn't wearing her hiking boots. After the long hike the day before, her ankles were sore and it was too painful for her to wear her boots on our second day. So she negotiated the mud in her Converse sneakers. It worked out fine, but I wouldn't recommend Converse All-Stars for hiking, or for much of anything, really. Robin's pair went straight into the trash as soon as we finished the hike.
(Photo: View of the Great Range from the part of Big Slide where the rock climbing begins.)
When our children returned to our custody in mid-August we took off on our biggest adventure of the summer: we flew to London and then sailed off on a ten-day cruise to the fjords of Norway.
This was a family trip with Robin's parents, sisters and nephews. A cruise was not our preference; it was imposed on us. We've never been attracted to the cruise lifestyle and we both expected to feel stifled by the whole environment. I didn't like the idea of being constrained to follow the cruise's schedule, and any cruise, by its very nature, makes it impractical for me to incorporate my two sports-- climbing and cycling-- into the vacation. So we went into the whole cruise thing with low expectations.
(Photo: Kayaking with my daughter at the head of the beautiful Geirangerfjorden, Norway.)
Despite ourselves, we loved the cruise. The ship was pretty swanky, the scenery incredible. Norway is the most beautiful place I've ever been. We sailed by gorgeous fjords, kayaked beneath huge waterfalls, hiked past mirror-like lakes to beautiful blue glaciers, and danced our hearts out every night in the ship's disco.
(Photo: Cruising the Innvikfjorden, Norway.)
(Photo: Aurlandsfjorden at sunrise.)
After the cruise was over we spent a few nights in London. We had wonderful weather and had fun seeing the Tower of London, the Tate Modern, and Buckingham Palace, among other sites.
(Photo: The Tower Bridge in London.)
All of these travels were wonderful, but I'm sad to say that even while I was off seeing the world and having a great time, my obsessed mind never strayed too far from all the climbing I was missing.
I couldn't wait to get back at it. We were due to return home just before Labor Day weekend. I prayed the weather would cooperate. I had a partner lined up: my old buddy Parker, the man who'd braved the rain to belay me when I finally got up the sac to lead MF(5.9). I hadn't climbed with him in nearly two years, but he sent me a message while I was abroad saying he was coming up to the Gunks from Virginia for Labor Day weekend. He asked if I could meet him on Saturday.
Could I?? Hell yes!
The forecast was iffy. It was supposed to be muggy and in the 80's. There was a 40 percent chance of thundershowers.
Ultimately we got pretty lucky. It didn't rain until after 5:00. And the crummy forecast kept the hordes at bay. We had our pick of climbs, even though it was a holiday weekend.
Without meaning to, I ended up revisiting several of the first 5.9's I ever climbed at the Gunks, back in .
I drove up to meet Parker in New Paltz with no big ambitions to fulfill. I hadn't been climbing outside in nearly two months and hadn't seen a climbing gym in weeks. After my cruise vacation I felt fat and out of shape. I had no idea how I'd do once we actually got down to climbing.
Still I didn't want to defeat myself by not even trying, so when we met at the parking lot I volunteered for the first lead and suggested a climb: Bonnie's Roof. I thought it would be a good choice because it is a pretty casual 5.9 with a very well-protected crux. I was pretty sure it would be no problem for me and that it would build confidence. And I thought that if by some miracle I was really feeling good I could run the first pitch right into the Bonnie's Direct finish (also rated 5.9), doing both pitches in one.
Also Bonnie's is one of my favorites and I hadn't been on it this year. Why not give it a go?
Well, it went fine, but it didn't feel all that casual. It was so humid out that I was quickly bathed in sweat. I chalked my hands repeatedly but they still felt slippery. I started placing pro very frequently-- Bonnie's Roof allows placements at will-- and soon I gave up the thought of running both pitches together.
Even though I scaled back my plans I wasn't too worried about the pitch, since the crux protects so well. I remembered my first time on the route, four years ago. It was one of the best days ever: I successfully led CCK (5.7+) onsight and then Bonnie's. Both of them were big deals to me at the time. On that day, while I was still on the ground getting set to start climbing Bonnie's, I remember that a passing stranger suggested to me that I bring the blue #3 Camalot for the crux. On that occasion I had committed, getting fully into the steep bit at the roof before realizing it was time for the blue cam. When I suddenly remembered the stranger's advice, I slammed the piece in and clipped it, then desperately pulled up on the great handholds while my right foot flailed about, trying to get established on the right side of the corner above the roof. Finally I was able to get the foot on the wall and stand up. What a great feeling that was... and of course it was all so unnecessary!
This time, in , I placed the blue cam from below. You can reach right up and slot it behind the point at the end of the roof, before you step up into the steepness. There is no need to desperately plug and go. And with a little footwork the moves are not an issue. It is still a great feeling to get over the roof, and then the rest of the pitch is very casual.
I built a belay at the end of pitch one, wishing I had brought a knife to cut all the junky slings off of the fixed station there. I don't know why this station exists. It is too high up for top-roping and no one raps from it. The slings are all old and faded and it is hard to tell what the newer bits are attached to. I have never used this station without backing it up. If I go up there any time soon I plan to chop it.
Parker made quick work of the Bonnie's Roof Direct finish. I wasn't sure how it would feel to me on this greasy day but I remembered it feeling surprisingly easy last year. This time I think I puzzled over the first move for longer than I did when I led it last year. Chalk it up to my being out of practice. When I finally made the move, slotting my hand in the vertical crack and moving my feet up until I could reach the jugs, it went well and the pitch was over within seconds. I wished I'd led it.
Once we got back to the ground, we saw the cliff was starting to get a little crowded. People were lining up for Ursula (5.5) and there was another party headed up Bonnie's. But I was shocked to see no one on Ants' Line (5.9). If this climb was available I had to do it. Ants' Line is one of those climbs that gets toproped to death, because it has a bolted anchor at the end of the pitch and there is a 5.7 way to reach the bolts (via Sleepwalk). Thus it is seldom open. I hadn't managed to get on it in three years.
Ants' Line was my very first 5.9 lead. It is a first 5.9 for many people because it follows a vertical crack up a corner which eats gear. There is no mysterious crux move but it builds in steepness as it progresses. It requires endurance and good corner technique.
I think I did a pretty good job on this one in . I placed a ton of gear and got tired, but I hung on to the finish. It was another one of those magical days in which it seemed like a whole world was opening up. I led my first 5.8's (Arrow and Airy Aria) earlier in the same day, and when those climbs went really well, I decided to go for it on Ants' Line. The corner looked so inviting. After Ants' Line went down, I felt like I'd become a totally different climber in a single day. Maybe I ascribed too much significance to this one 5.9 lead-- maybe this overconfidence led in some way to my broken ankle on Insuhlation (5.9) later that same year.
In I hoped it would be just another 5.9, well within my limits. I hoped to prove to myself I wasn't as rusty and out of shape as I felt.
I think I probably did a better job on Ants' Line in than I did this time. My hands were so greasy in the humid conditions, I started rushing because I just wanted it over with. Aware that I was getting tired, I didn't execute the moves with much finesse. Still I hung on and completed the pitch. It remains a great climb, and one I will hop on again-- if I ever see it open.
It was Parker's turn and he decided to lead Teeny Face (5.10a) in one pitch. This is one I'd like to lead some time myself. The crux is pretty short, just a couple of crimpy sequences that lead to jugs. I top roped it once with Maryana and really enjoyed it. Following Parker, I liked it very much again. He looked solid negotiating the steep moves up the orange face. The lead looked reasonably well protected to me, although you do make the crux moves above the (bomber) gear. On my turn, the moves seemed harder than I remembered. I got through it, but on one of the crimps I could easily have blown it.
I was starting to feel pretty worn out. Was it the heat? I had planned to lead Obstacle Delusion (5.9) next but after we finished Teeny Face I decided I didn't have to prove anything to anyone and that we might as well dial it back a bit.
I suggested we do Modern Times (5.8+). But when we walked over to it another climber was just starting up.
(Photo: You're in the wrong place, my friend! A climber snookered by the tree into going off-route on Modern Times (5.8+).)
Standing there at the base of Modern Times, Parker and I noticed that, miracle of miracles, the entire High Exposure buttress was empty. Parker mentioned that he'd never done Directissima (5.9). This seemed like a great option for us. I told him I would lead the short 5.8 first pitch, and then he could lead the second, crux pitch and run it together with the glorious 5.6 pitch to the GT Ledge.
This was yet another 5.9 climb that I first attempted in . In retrospect, I don't think I was really ready to lead it at that time. Back then I couldn't figure out the crux move. I ended up falling on the fixed pin at the crux, then hanging, and finally pulling on the draw attached to the pin to reach the next hold. I have since gone back and led it clean. The climb remains one of my favorites. The first two pitches are both odd and little frightening, with tenuous traverses. Then the payoff comes with the beautiful 5.6 climbing up the point of the arete, with great views on either side of you due to your position on a buttress sticking out from the face of the long cliff.
Pitch one of Directissima is a little bit intimidating right off the ground. But I'd led it twice before so with Parker I had little hesitation as I stepped right up into the layback position on the smeary, angled ramp. Once you step up the climbing is easy, with good pro, until you reach the crux move, traversing past the point of the buttress, reaching around a bulge to a big jug. It is a balancy maneuver with poor footholds. There is good pro to your left but the ground feels awfully close. Once you brace yourself and make the reach over, you scamper up and right to a belay ledge next to an obvious, chalked-up finger rail that heads left.
(Photo: Parker at the crux of Directissima (5.9).)
Parker was taking the crux pitch so now I could just sit back and watch. The traditional second pitch of Directissima is only 25 feet long. It traverses straight left for fifteen feet on the narrow finger rail across a steep face, and then a reachy crux move past the pin takes you to a little ledge. The first challenge is getting yourself to commit to the finger rail. It is kind of scary. But once you're in it the finger locks are very good and you can (and should!) get a couple of placements (yellow Alien/Metolius) along the way.
Parker hesitated at first, right at the start of the pitch, but once he moved out onto the face he made it look easy. He is over six feet tall so the crux reach required no special technique from him. He breezed right out to the pin and then moved up to the ledge in no time. Then at my urging he continued, doing the nice 5.6 pitch to the GT Ledge as well. When I followed it went well. I found the traverse to be more comfortable than I remembered and I dispatched the crux move with surprising ease-- I don't want to wreck it for you so I won't say exactly how. But it isn't actually all that reachy if you do it right. I've actually solved it in two different ways.
Once I joined Parker at the GT Ledge it seemed almost churlish not to finish with the crux pitch of High Exposure (5.6+). The climb was just sitting there open, with no one on it and no one waiting. How often does that happen? It had been a few years since I was last on the climb-- if I'm not mistaken I think my last time was when I followed Liz up the pitch in -- and while there may have been a time when I never wanted to do it again, the climb made for a great last pitch of my day with Parker. It was just interesting enough for my rusty bones and brain. With no worries and the humidity finally seeming to lift a little, I started to fully relax and just enjoy myself for the first time all day.
(Photo: The classic top-out shot on High Exposure (5.6+).)
As we descended to the ground, debating whether we should do another climb or call it quits, we could hear the sound of thunder in the distance, heralding not just an incoming storm but with it a change of weather. It was time to declare summer over and go home.
It was sort of a lost summer for me, climbing-wise, with no climbing achievements to savor. Whether I can get in shape for any big accomplishments in the fall remains an open question. So far has been a year in which I've grown increasingly comfortable trying to climb 5.10's in the Gunks, but I still have precious few sends to my credit on such climbs. I do have climbing time mapped out for the autumn, including a couple of days in the 'Dacks in late September, and with some hard work and a little luck I hope I can translate these days into something that feels like progress.
Friday, June 12, 2009
Walking the ‘Dyle Path’ in Mechelen
The Dyle Path crossing under the Grootbrug on the Dijle/Dyle River.In November last year I was in Mechelen, Belgium for a weekend. I was in Brussels for work that week and thought it would be nice to spend the weekend in another town since I am already in Belgium. Mechelen came to mind as it is near Brussels and when I googled pictures of the city I was sold out.
I stayed in a church—Martin’s Patershof, a beautiful old church that has been converted into a hotel. While there, I discovered the ‘Dyle Path’ (Dijle in Dutch), a walkway along the River Dyle. When I am travelling alone, I walk a lot, and I really mean—I walk a lot.
What I like about the Dyle Path are the views to the historical houses and stone buildings along the river banks, as well as being able to pass through the residential areas. It allows some catching a glimpse of the local daily life which for me is very pleasing. I like to be able to see beyond the usual touristy and on-the-surface type of sights when travelling.
One can find the walking path at the Vismarkt, right beside the little foot bridge. It crosses under the Grootbrug (see photo above).
Walking the Dyle pedestrian pathway and the sights along the way.
This is the Vismarkt.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Fall Turns
There's been some great skiing on the Muir Snowfield this fall so far. Between storms, and those 'tweens have been small, there have been some good snow conditions for skiing. I last went up to Camp Muir on Friday November 2nd. All those gargantuan suncups have been filled in. Ski penetration has been pretty nice at less than 5 cm in most places so skinning up was fast.
I've taken the webcam down for the season. Although we did get it working again, it's just too much to maintain in the winter, so we'll save it for next season.
Public shelter is open, but it may be snowed in when you get there. Expect to shovel out the entrance. Could take a long time and you may be exposed to the wind while you're digging (and tired and cold)...
A toilet is open near the public shellter, which may need to be dug out, too.
Remember a few things this winter:
-Get a forcast from the NWAC before you go.
-If overnighting, remember a permit, a pass and to park in the overnight area at Paradise.
-Pack for contingencies, such as getting stuck out for an unplanned overnight.
I've taken the webcam down for the season. Although we did get it working again, it's just too much to maintain in the winter, so we'll save it for next season.
Public shelter is open, but it may be snowed in when you get there. Expect to shovel out the entrance. Could take a long time and you may be exposed to the wind while you're digging (and tired and cold)...
A toilet is open near the public shellter, which may need to be dug out, too.
Remember a few things this winter:
-Get a forcast from the NWAC before you go.
-If overnighting, remember a permit, a pass and to park in the overnight area at Paradise.
-Pack for contingencies, such as getting stuck out for an unplanned overnight.
Monday, June 8, 2009
Sunday Drive #2
Even though this is almost a week old by now, I still wanted to share another one of our Sunday drives. This one we kept pretty local, circling in a radius of about 20 miles and seeing exactly what is here. We headed down to Arcadia where we saw our old campground, which is also named Peace River.
We have a lot of good memories of our time there. We had no idea when we first started hanging out there that it was a part of our journey to become full timers. Now I feel even more warm and fuzzy towards the place knowing it was a key part of getting us from there to here.
We saw a local country club near Ona. Really snooty looking place, isn't it?
We saw many other cool buildings, and another snooty looking pub named Charlotte's Web.
We saw lots of animals. A cactus. A lumberyard.
And my personal favorite from this week, an old barn.
Living the life in Sunny Florida!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)