Antimatter

For the last couple of weeks I’ve been projecting a problem at Priest Draw called Antimatter. I first started trying Antimatter last April but abandoned it once it got too warm and I began work at CREC. It’s been cold everywhere for the last couple of weeks. Here in Flagstaff temperatures didn’t even break freezing until yesterday.

On my first 2013 session on Antimatter I refined all of my beta, of which there is much. It took me about two hours to finally make up my mind on the crux section, which involves some strange pinches, a dropknee/toecam, a cross-under, and a bad gaston. The Draw is a wonderful place this time of year, if you were wondering. The parking lot is void of cars and covered in deep snow. Only the true die-hards make it out, so the whole place glistens with winter solitude. It’s quiet. Only the birds make noise, and during that cold snap they were elsewhere. Probably Sedona. Anyway, I climbed at The Beta every other day and once last week headed out to Antimatter with Danny and Matt. It was snowing and about 20 degrees. As soon as I booted up my feet lost all feeling and I made absolutely no progress on the probelm. It was beginning to seem as if Antimatter was impossible for me, that I’d never see it through to the end and hang from the double toe hooks on the lip where I finally, after like 15 moves, would get to relax my core.

            I made a point of not thinking about Antimatter for a couple of days and climbed up on Elden, where I found myself excited on a couple of other projects. I had to get Antimatter out of the way so I could move on. Climbers are often in a perpetual state of progression, and the feeling of stagnancy is disheartening. That was exactly where I was. I felt like the next level was just out of reach. I was getting frustrated.

             Yesterday I got off from work at four and took advantage of working in a bouldering gym and warmed up there. I drove quickly out to The Draw and raced the setting sun to Antimatter. The light was coppery while I set up the pads and camera. Conditions couldn’t have felt better. I did the crux once to remember the body positioning and cooled my hands off on a nearby rock. Hot hands and freezing rock equal condensation like on a cold drink during a hot summer day. I pulled onto Antimatter and walked it first try of the day. My feet even cut, which was the issue that had been keeping me from the top, but I held on and summoned energy I didn’t know I had and was soon topping out. My mouth tasted of metal and no matter how much I spit, there was more. It took me half an hour to catch my breath.

            Now though, I feel as if a weight has been lifted. I’m going to Hueco next week and I know that if I hadn’t done Antimatter it would loom over those desert rocks I hold so dear like a bulging thunderhead. But it’s not. I will go to Hueco with a clear mind and I will hopefully come back proud. There is always a feeling of change, of anticipation, and of fear on top of every project. With growth comes the great unknown, a place we generally avoid. The road to satisfaction is limitless and, for me at least, paved in crimps, slopers, pinches and pockets.

Oh, and here is a link to Antimatter.

New Year

I’ve tiptoed my way into the New Year, 2013 and it’s looking to be a good one. 2012 was an eventful year, for both climbing, and general life type things.  Christina and I bought a house in Flagstaff, AZ, a place I couldn’t be more pleased with. With a little more focus on climbing I managed to climb a few things I never imagined myself standing on top of. Both Bang On and The Mandala were problems I first saw in my fledgling months as a rock climber. They looked amazing then, but were veiled in a film of grandeur. Only really good climbers could climb those things. Climbers like Chris Sharma, Dave Graham, or Ben Moon. Eventually though, and faster since I started using boar’s hair brushes, that film has cleaned away leaving solid, climbable rock. And that’s what I’ve been busy doing.

A few weeks ago a true winter storm rolled through Northern Arizona. I took advantage of the falling snow and convinced Christina to walk part-way up Middle Elden with me. I packed champagne. At the warm-up boulders I uncovered a small box and got on one knee and asked Christina to marry me. She said yes, and we drank the champagne in a cave and watched snow fall for a while before the slog home. Christina and I have been together for five years. We met on a bouldering trip in Bishop in a “more dudes” kind of situation. It was her, the only one old enough to buy like 12 underage boys alcohol, and I, the only underage boy not drinking and able to carry in-depth discussions about Kate Chopin and Charlotte Perkins Gilman. We hit it off and now we are set to be married at the beginning of the summer. So it’s looking as if 2013, like its predecessor, will also be a year of good new things.

Bang On

Well now, it’s the holiday season and snow is in the forecast. Beta Bouldering’s grand opening was about two weeks ago and I’ve been in there quite a bit since. People seem pretty psyched to have a new climbing venue in town and the after-work sessions are growing. This upcoming storm, which seem to carry with it the long anticipated beginning of Flagstaff’s winter, will almost certainly close the forest roads and make desert pilgrimages a necessity. Though I’ve gotten closer on my project in Cherry Canyon, I’m excited to have an excuse to go to the desert. I have an ambitious tick-list this year and I’m psyched to get to work.

            I crossed another problem off my lifetime tick-list just before Thanksgiving. Christina and I had plans to spend the holiday in Del Mar, Ca. I could not resist a stop at Black Mountain to try Bang On.

I’ve been able to do all the moves on Bang On for over a year, and have been able to do the stand for four. Because I live in Arizona, and Black Mountain season overlaps with the season here, I don’t get out there as often as I’d like. So I included a couple pads and convinced Christina I’d be able to do it in just a few tries. I wasn’t sure if the lower gate was closed, so the two-hour detour was a gamble.

But the gate was open, and though we had to walk from the campground gate, the detour was worth it. Bang On, though it is only four moves long, has some of the most bizarre beta of anything I’ve climbed. Sure, there is the iconic cross, and that strange toothy crimp. I find the most important piece however, is how I grab the start hold. Crystals need to be between the right fingers, hands must be at the right angle. The flappers on my palm and little finger are a map to the first move. 

After about a dozen tries and a little bloodshed, I sent Bang On. I’m still psyched about it. I’d tried the problem the fist time I went to Black Mountain. It looked climbable, but felt impossible. Now that I’ve been focusing on climbing for just a few months I’ve cruised past my old performance plateau and into new territory. I don’t even really know how to behave. I flash people’s projects accidently as they watch between burns. I don’t mean to, it just happens. As a rule, I don’t let go. So for that, I apologize. But hey, I’m just as stunned as anyone.

Anyway, here is a video of Bang On

Broken Symmetry, The Spider Pocket, and Uptown Vandal

Beta Bouldering will be opening December first and the mad rush to finish the place has been underway for quite some time. I’ve been over there disobeying the warnings on Bud cans and drilling, pounding, patching, painting almost every day. In the few short days I’ve not gone in to help out, or worked on the innumerable unfinished projects in my own house, I’ve been getting out to Cherry Canyon, Choss Roof, and Middle Elden.

I’ve been having a good fall, to say the least. I feel the strongest I ever have. My ambitious winter tick list doesn’t seem so out of reach now. Maybe it was the six months of trail work, or the six months of more limited climbing, or the better diet. Who knows, it’s probably a combination of it all.

In any case, I finished off Uptown Vandal first go of my second day on the problem. I figured out some good beta for the stand start that makes the problem flow much better. I also did John Val John, a problem whose name always seems to be mumbled, (I think no one is totally sure how to say it) on my second try. I also rapped off a tall wall just up canyon from Panama Red that looks like it could go after a good cleaning. The gate to Cherry Canyon will be closed soon, so any projects need to be finished before access is limited.

Choss Roof and Renegade have been in the news lately and while gates are not closed, it might be better to wait until spring to revisit. I managed, with some beta from Matt Gentile, to snag the first ascent of The Spider Pocket, a problem that has stood up to many strong Flagstaff climbers for several years. The problem climbs right out the center of the roof through a large move to a two-finger pocket and gaston. I’m really happy to have contributed this problem to a roof already filled with excellent problems. I also managed the third ascent of Choss Origins, which is arguably the best line on the roof. Matt put together this video of both problems.

Yesterday morning, I went up Middle Elden with Christina to work on Broken Symmetry. I’ve written about this problem before, and tried it many, many times. It was a lump in my mind, clouding thought, keeping me awake. I started working Broken Symmetry this season about a week ago and came so close on that first session that it’s all I’ve climbed on since.  On Wednesday I went back up the canyon with Matt Gentile and Cory Hathaway, who was on his way through town. Matt figured out how to reach the bad right hand crimp, the one that has crumbled several times, (I even broke a little off on the first day of work) but was still trying to figure out the match. I struggled at the same place, but managed to match that crimp once with a cool cross-under move. I’m not really sure why, but I fell after I matched that hold. Maybe my core just gave out, or I surprised myself, in any case, I couldn’t get back up there again. After two days off to let my skin callous up, Christina and I walked from our house to Broken Symmetry. The wounds on my left forearm opened up after one try so I taped my shirt snuggly to my arm. Then, second try of the day; I floated the thing using the same cross-under I’d used on Wednesday. After probably five or six sessions over a year, Broken Symmetry is a boulder problem once again. Like with The Spider Pocket, I’m really proud to open this thing up again. It’s a great problem, and unlike anything I’ve ever climbed before.

I’ll leave you with a video of the send. Sorry the top out is cut off, you can see it in the shadow.

Renegade and Choss

It’s the time of year that I start to plan trip out of state. Trips to Texas and California, desert places intolerably hot most of the year. For the next couple months though, I think I’m staying home.

I just bought a house, and though the first round of painting, flooring and other domestic-type activities have come near an end, I want to enjoy the fruits of our labor. And of course spend time with Christina.

I’ve never lived someplace like Flagstaff before. There is so much I haven’t climbed here, so many areas I’ve yet to visit, that I want to get out on the forest roads, see the roofs find the bulges, and of course climb them. Gates and locks—so often the enemies of climbers, will close off Cherry Canyon and Woody Mountain in about two months.

For these next two months I will be climbing at only these areas and on Elden. Projects are everywhere, there are numerous new things to be climbed and my old reasoning to leave doesn’t work anymore. The desert can wait.

Matt on a project on Renegade Roof

Yesterday I went out to Renegade Roof and Choss Roof with Matt Gentile. In the last year or so, a resurgence of development has swept across Northern Arizona, much of it spearheaded by Matt. He’s visited the areas already found and written off and climbed many new problems. Choss Roof alone will probably host around 40 problems from V5 to V14 in link-ups and variations, many of which will be among the best in the state.

Renegade Roof

Renegade Roof, which was abandoned after one line was climbed because of a hugely bad landing, is much like the famous Mars Roof, only bigger and with a far more impressive backdrop. There are only three or four finished problems on the roof, but it’s covered with two-finger pockets, pinches and jugs. There will be another half-dozen problems by the time the roof is climbed out.

At Renegade I worked on the original line, which shares its name with the roof. The problem climbs through a series of pinches and pockets with good toe-cams for feet. Matt worked on a project that climbs out the center of the roof to a tricky and treacherous lip encounter.

Getting closer to the lip

Choss Roof

We walked over to Choss Roof and I tried the center line, Choss Origins, The Spider Pocket project and one of the newer problems in the area called Garden Heist.  It was my third time to the roof, and I’ve sill never topped anything out besides the warm-ups. Soon though, with work and endurance I will start ticking them off the list.

Cherry Canyon

Obviously fall has arrived and for a while at least, I have joined the ranks of the unemployed.  This is good though, at least for now. I have time to work on this house, to write, to climb. Working at CREC was a great experience, but the schedule of eight days on-six days off, didn’t work for me. I couldn’t even come close to balancing all those top-heavy aspects of life. Who ever does?

            Fall--apples, carved pumpkins, changing leaves. It’s time to get out last years leftover candy corn and put it in a bowl in the kitchen, time to start drinking tea instead of ice water, and time to boulder as much as possible while the conditions are good and the forest roads are open.

            Two Sundays in a row I’ve gone to Cherry canyon with Matt, Brian, and Spence. No one outside of Flagstaff seems to know the brilliance of this place. Even though Cherry Canyon houses what is arguably some of the best limestone bouldering in the country, I’ve never seen another group of people there. Right now it seems most are drawn to the various super-sized roofs to the west and Cherry has fallen to the wayside. Even though I have lived in Flagstaff for a year now, I still haven’t figured out how to climb those roofs. I’m getting better, but I feel at home at places like The Glorias, Middle Elden, West Elden, and of course on the towering bulges of Cherry.

            Since the first time I went to Cherry last spring and set eyes on The Bulge Wall, I have wanted to try Uptown Vandal. This is a boulder problem that could only happen here. A couple easy roof moves lead to a sloping pocket, heelhook, and a strenuous move to a flat, half-pad undercling. A bump off a bad crimp leads to a better one and the beginning of a highball V7.

            I’ve tried Uptown Vandal maybe a dozen times now. Yesterday was the first time I’d tried it early in the day and on my first solid effort from the bottom I got into the crux of the stand start. I surprised myself. I gave one more try, but the first try had drained most of my strength and I got to the same place. Still, I will climb Uptown Vandal the next time I try it. Until then it’s clouding my thoughts, as boulders often do.

The Mandala

It’s been a while and since I last wrote, and much has happened. Three weeks ago I packed up my Subaru and sped northwest through the infinite and wonderful desert to Bishop, CA. My trip to The Buttermilks would be a short one—only three climbing days—but what it lacked in time was made up with incredible intention. Never do I go someplace to climb with one problem in mind. Never, until recently have I driven eight hours to essentially climb one thing. All these big destinations are too overwhelming, daunting in the sheer number of brilliant problems to try. It’s easy to forget the project, leave it neglected in the dust of a bunch of fun V7’s.

This trip had been seeded the last time I was in Bishop, over the winter and finally bloomed in spring. The Mandala, whose crux section I had figured out that last trip, was looming larger and larger, its rounded prow like a ships bow in the fog.

            The Mandala, I think, is one of the most famous boulders in the world and most definitely the U.S. Dreamtime, Midnight Lightning, Esperenza, The Mandala, problems that everyone knows, that over the years from their desperate inceptions have, in some way defined what it is to climb a good, hard boulder problem, are a true accomplishment to finish. I remember watching young Chris Sharma climbing The Mandala in Dosage 1 and famously joking about its grade. Soon after I went to The Buttermilks for the first time and saw that same boulder shining in the light of a full moon. I thought it looked impossible, or at least like something I’d never be able to climb. I’ve tried The Mandala half-heartedly almost every time I’ve been near it, but never been able to make anything work. It’s sharp, sharp enough that after five or six tries my fingers would be too bruised to climb anymore, and it’s massively dependant on weather conditions. I never got very far and usually spent the rest of my time climbing easier things and dreaming of the day that everything would align for those few seconds to let me stand atop that one boulder. God, bouldering is silly.

            Considering the fame of The Mandala, the rock is really not the best in Bishop. Something like A Maze of Death or Evilution have far more brilliant patina. This year alone The Mandala has broken twice. Once right before my winter trip and once right before my spring trip. The second break was more significant; a fingerjug large enough to match and rest on evolved to nothing more than another crimp. I heard of this break two days before I left and was sure that I’d leave defeated once again. All winter I’d been saying, “The Mandala is not going anywhere,” but its permanence seemed suddenly less than geologic.

            My first day in Bishop I only looked at The Mandala.  The broken hold didn’t look as bad as I’d heard—I was expecting it to be almost entirely gone. I wanted to give the problem a try, but instead wandered the Buttermilks, climbed easier things in hopes of some callous growth for those sharp holds. After a day off I went straight to The Mandala after my warm up, where I met a guy named Jon who asked to film me. On my first burn I climbed through my old highpoint to a new one three moves below the final jug and mantle. It felt like I could climb the entirety of the boulder on any go. However, as it happens, I had to figure out how to do the top section with the smaller, broken hold and after six or seven tries I was tired, the wind picked up to a gale and I couldn’t do the first move any more.

            Jon, living alone in his truck, invited me over to drink wine. By nine my cheeks were warm, we’d each had a whole bottle and a hilariously philosophic conversation about how living a nomadic lifestyle encourages the same deep-rooted comfort as staring at a campfire.

            The next night Jon made me a delicious dinner of pork tenderloin and assorted vegetables. “ You need sending fuel,” he kept saying. We were just two lonely climbers living in dirt and passing time with each other’s fine company.

            That night, just as I was settling into my sleeping bag, it began to snow. I imagined The Mandala, not far away, slowly vanishing beneath a thin layer of ice. I wondered if I’d be able to climb the next day, the last day of the trip, or if I’d have to leave Bishop again with only the satisfaction of progress and worries of erosion.

            It only dusted that night and maybe half an inch of snow clung to the sage and pea gravel in the morning. By ten the snow was gone and the stone dry. I warmed up and went over to The Mandala, which I cleaned tediously and took care to chalk every hold.

            The Mandala is of the breed of problems that draw spectators. People walking by stop and watch for a few minutes. It’s disconcerting though, having a crowd of unknown onlookers, pure judgment in their eyes, see you struggle on the first move. On this day though, it was only Jon and I, a clear sky, and ice-cold rock.

            I sent The Mandala first try that morning and though standing atop that boulder was as fantastic as Beethoven’s 9^th, and the drive home filled with desert mountains capped with snow like I’d never seen before, my return seems imminent.  There are too many blocks of stone to climb and too many to find.

            As I drove home to Flagstaff that afternoon I thought about what to project next, what odd wall would consume me and leave my fingers sore after every session. Uptown Vandal, a powerful bulge in Cherry Canyon came to mind, so did Black Mountain’s classic oddity, Bang-On. None came close to The Mandala, though. Their draw is strong but not magnetic. When I do find it, that coveted next project that is always just over the next hill, on the other side of the boulder, or hiding deep in the blocks of a jumbled talus field, I’ll have something new to work towards whose achievement will feel just like watching another sunrise. 

Here is Jon's Video:

http://www.dpmclimbing.com/climbing-videos/watch/luminance-ground-updowngrade-post-breakage-ascent-mandala