Moving the Goalposts in the Gunks

(Photo: That's me on Enduro Man's Longest Hangout (5.11c), pitch 3. Photo by Gus.)

"So what about you?" Gus asked. "Don't you have any projects?"

It took me a second to process that he was talking to me.

We were walking on the carriage road, on our way in to the Trapps from the parking lot. I'd been with Gus, Kevin and Fredy for two hours in the car, listening to lots of chit-chat about their plans to get on such venerable testpieces as The Sting (5.11d), Supper's Ready (5.12a), and Uphill All the Way (5.12a).

(Photo: Gus on Directissima Direct (5.10b).)

I didn't know any of these guys very well. I'd seen them around the gym. I considered them to be strong sport climbers who occasionally dabbled in trad. I'd somehow lucked into going to the Gunks with them, but I didn't think of them as my peers. I thought of them as climbers who were better than me.

While they'd been discussing their goals for the day, I'd been mute, taking it all in.

Gus' question caught me off guard. I didn't know the answer.

It was mid-October. High season. I ought to have goals, I thought. Did I have any current projects? What were they?

"I'm just hoping I can keep up with you guys," I replied.

I knew this was a pathetic answer.

How did I get here? Where had my year gone?

*  *  *

In the spring I'd picked up where I left off last year, trying to lead cleanly every last 5.10 in the Gunks that gets at least a star in the guidebook. I also planned to keep working my way through the popular 5.11's.

I didn't have any tens left to do in the Trapps, so I focused on the Nears. Over the course of a few different days, I knocked off some of my 5.10 targets, but I got a little bit bored with my 5.10 project pretty fast.

(Photo: Will following me up Fat Stick Direct (5.10b).)

Meanwhile, I sent just one Gunks 5.11 in the spring: Harvest Moon (5.11a). I worked it out over two visits to cliff. The crux bulge (near the finish) is tricky. The climb follows a striking vertical crack, but-- in typical Gunks fashion--  it doesn't really climb like one. You'd love to just jam it, hand over hand, but the crack size doesn't make it easy, and the angles are all wrong. I definitely did some jamming on Harvest Moon, but just a little, and it was weird, awkward jamming.

(Photo: I'm getting ready to commit to the crack on Harvest Moon (5.11a). Photo by Connie.)

On my first visit, with Connie, I figured it out well enough that I was able to fire it off on my second visit to the climb with Michael. At the crux bulge I nearly blew it when my foot popped but I clamped down like crazy and managed to stay on the rock. It wasn't pretty but I got to the top and was happy to call it done.

(Photo: Connie sending Harvest Moon (5.11a) on TR.)

Until late in the year that was where my 2018 achievements ended. It got hot in a hurry this spring and when I made it to the Gunks this summer I didn't do much but play around on old favorites.

And then September came along and I got to climb with Fredy.

I had seen him around the gym for several years and he seemed like a very strong guy. I assumed he was a sport climber because I never saw him in the Gunks. Then on one fateful day in the gym he asked me if I could climb with him in the Gunks that weekend, and although I was a bit taken aback (you want to climb with me?),  I said sure, why not. It turned out that Fredy had a baby on the way and was changing his focus from sport to trad as a way to stay closer to NYC. Our first time climbing together was going to be only his third trip ever to the Gunks.

(Photo: Fredy on our first outdoor climb together, Feast of Fools (5.10b).)

On our way up to the Gunks that first day, it somehow came up that Fredy wanted to hop on a 5.12a in the Trapps called Supper's Ready, and when I said I was happy to flail away at it too, a partnership was born.

Fredy had not yet been to the Gunks with anyone willing to do twelves with him-- his partners so far hadn't wanted to work that hard, and maybe they were concerned about Fredy biting off more of a trad challenge than he could chew. But after our first conversation I had no such reservations. It was quickly apparent to me that Fredy knew what he was doing. Fredy had sent sport climbs up to 5.13b, a grade that I couldn't even imagine. And he wasn't just a sport weenie-- he had alpine experience in his native Chile. If he thought he was ready to lead 5.12 trad, I wasn't going to try to stop him.

And I was excited to learn from him. I knew I might not be able to do the moves on some of the climbs Fredy would want to do, but maybe climbing hard stuff with him would push me to a new level.

It came at a good time for me, too. I turned 49 years old in June of 2018 and it has occurred to me that I'd like to send a trad 5.12 on lead before I turn 50. I think this is a reasonable goal, if I actually try to do it! I need to find the right climb and make it into a project, breaking it into digestible chunks. If I make a wise choice, and devote enough time to the climb, I should be able to work it all out and eventually send it.

It sounds reasonable on paper, anyway.

I've made some efforts on my own to find the perfect 5.12 for me. I've fooled around on a few of the obvious candidates, on top rope. Some of these routes have had moves I could do but are dangerous leads, so they don't fit the bill for my project. Some other twelves I've attempted have had good protection but are too hard-- or maybe I just haven't discovered the right beta.

Prior to meeting Fredy, my top candidate for my first twelve lead was probably Brave New World (5.12a/b), out in Lost City. It is a beautiful climb, with lots of cool moves on a steep face, but the only real 5.12 part is the first bouldery sequence off the ground. The rest of the climb is probably some variety of 5.11, with good gear. My big problem with Brave New World is that I haven't unlocked the hard opening sequence yet. I worked on it a bit with Will this fall, and I made progress, getting halfway through the boulder problem. If I can figure out how to step up from there to the good hold-- just one more move-- then I know I can do the whole climb. So this climb remains a contender.

(Photo: This is Will on the upper half of Brave New World (5.12a/b). Not a great photo but it's the best I've got!)

During that first day in September that I spent with Fredy, we got to know each other over a few warm-ups and then Fredy took a shot at Supper's Ready. The climb wanders up a moderate face just left of Hans' Puss and then kicks back through what is probably the biggest, most outrageous roof in the Gunks. There are five or six tiers and the crux moves involve huge reaches to jugs. Fredy went right at it without hesitation. He took some impressive falls attempting the on-sight on the climb, but his gear was good and he worked everything out, eventually reaching the fixed anchor. He was eager to return for the send on a different day.

(Photo: Fredy about to attempt the final big reach to the lip of the roof on Supper's Ready (5.12a).)

We'd driven up to the Gunks with some other friends, Connie and Pascal. After Fredy got the rope up on Supper's Ready all three of us tried it, with similar results: lots of falling. But we all got up it, more or less. I left thinking that maybe this was a climb I could put together and lead, some day. It has good gear and two definite cruxes. I would have to refine my beta for each of the biggest reaches and really execute well if I were to have any hope of hanging on to the finish.

(Photo: Connie on Supper's Ready (5.12a).)

That same day Fredy and I also tried another 5.12a/b called Bullfrog. I know that people lead this climb but it appeared to me that it would be very challenging to place the gear in the climb's thin vertical seam, so I suggested we set it up from Balrog (5.10b) instead of leading it.

(Photo: Fredy on Bullfrog (5.12a/b).)

On top rope, Fredy worked the climb out with just a fall or two. I did well on the opening arch but didn't really figure out the crux move onto a slab near the top. I need to go back to work on this one some more, but I think this one too could be a 5.12 possibility for me, after some more top-rope work to get the beta for both the moves and the gear.

* * *

After our first day together, I felt like I was already getting a lot out my new partnership with Fredy.

But the autumn seemed to go by very quickly, with near-constant rain. On the rare weekend days without precipitation, I went to the Gunks with Fredy and tried more hard stuff.

Fredy invited Gus and Kevin along for our second day out, in mid-October. We were on our way in to the cliff that day when Gus asked me that question about whether I had any goals in mind.

I struggled to name any and then felt ashamed of my mumbled non-answer. After stewing over it for a few minutes, I made a decision: I was going to try Enduro Man, pitch 3 (5.11c).

It had been a year and a half since I'd first attempted the climb. I almost sent it on my first go. But I'd never gone back. I think a part of me was afraid that my near-success on that first attempt was a fluke and that I'd end up hanging all over it if I tried it again.

I decided it was high time I just went up there and threw the dice.

So I told Fredy I wanted to do it and he was psyched. He led quickly up the first pitch of Modern Times and then I went right at it.

To my surprise, I remembered the two cruxes reasonably well. The first crux involves steep moves up and left using several non-obvious sidepulls, until a bomber horizontal slot is reached. Then after you shake out and place gear, you go hard to the right for the second crux, traversing with some mediocre slopers and then stepping slightly down and into another great hold.

(Photo: That's me on Enduro Man (5.11c) pitch 3. Photo by Gus.)

I managed to get through both cruxes again without falling. And then, much to my chagrin, I made the exact same mistake that I made a year and a half earlier-- I kept going to the right (wrong!) and couldn't find the move to get up and out to finish the pitch. The route finding is really the third crux on this climb. The whole pitch is overhanging, and as soon as you get lost, you flame out. Or I do, anyway.

Once I took a hang I could see where to go-- just like on my first time on the route.

I was upset with myself but I took solace in the fact that I could definitely send this climb. I proved to myself that my first time on the route was not just a fluke. So I vowed to go back to get the send before the end of the year.

(Photo: Fredy reaching the top of Enduro Man, discussing his beta for the traverse while still climbing.)

That same day, Fredy and I went back to Supper's Ready and he put the thing down with authority. It was quite crowded at the Arrow wall (peak season) and everyone was watching. The whole cliff was abuzz after Fredy sent. I was honored just to be associated with this event, which seemed to provide so much entertainment for the masses.

(Photo: Fredy in the final crux as he sends Supper's Ready (5.12a).)

I wish I could say I did just as well as Fredy, or at least made some progress on Supper's Ready. But after getting super pumped on Enduro Man, I was worse on my second effort at Supper's Ready than I was on our first day on the route. I had a really hard time with the first crux and eventually gave up, and we spent the rest of our day on some easier stuff.

(Photo: That's me on Never Never Land (5.10a). Photo by Fredy.)

Two weeks later, in early November, Fredy and I were together in the Gunks again.

I went right back at Enduro Man for my second attempt of the season. From the very start I could tell that I wasn't feeling as strong as I did on my last effort. It was a high-gravity day, as they say. I struggled, grunting, through both cruxes, and the move up afterwards as well. I was still hanging in there, but barely. So far I was only making it because I knew the moves and the gear beta. Still, I had done all of the hard climbing and was at a good horizontal. Fredy was shouting up that he thought I'd made it. I threw a piece in and tried to regroup. But I knew I was toast-- I was going to have to hang. I just felt so pumped and couldn't get it back, even though it should have been all over!

So I called out "take" and took a rest. And then after I started moving again I saw that if I'd made just one more move to the right I could have gotten a much better resting position and maybe could have finished it. I felt frustrated, but again, I knew I'd made progress and could (definitely? probably?) get the send if I got the opportunity to come back for a third time in 2018.

(Photo: Fredy heading into the overhangs on Carbs and Caffeine (5.11a).)

We didn't try any twelves that day (thank God), but Fredy continued to add to his Gunks resume. He wanted to check out the Yellow Wall area so we went over there and Fredy proceeded to send Carbs and Caffeine (5.11a), No Man's Land (5.11b), and the Yellow Wall (5.11c), in succession, all on-sight, in a single afternoon.

(Photo: Fredy on The Yellow Wall (5.11c).)

What for me had been a two year project with multiple efforts at each climb (still incomplete as I have yet to send the Yellow Wall), Fredy knocked off easily in a day.

What can I say, the guy is good.

* * *

It was December 1. Would this be our last climbing day of 2018? Fredy and I were back once again. We'd hoped to go to the Gunks on each of the previous two weekends, but the cliffs were soaking wet.

At least it was dry today. But conditions were cold, in the high thirties. We'd hoped for sunshine, but a gloomy fog hung over the cliffs for the entire morning.

(Photo: I'm headed up Teeny Face (5.10a). Photo by Fredy.)

I started our day on Teeny Face (5.10a). I had a hard time committing to the crux moves with numb, burning fingers, but I got through it.

We moved over to Ridicullissima (5.10d). Fredy thought this would get me ready for my third try on Enduro Man. As Fredy led upward, disappearing into the fog, I wondered if I was really game for the send today. I felt fat and weak in the aftermath of Thanksgiving.

(Photo: Fredy on Ridicullissima (5.10d).)

When I started climbing up to join Fredy, Ridicullissima felt hard. I didn't fall but by the time I reached the crux my fingers and toes were numb again from the cold. I got through the roof, willing myself to hold on even though I couldn't really feel what I was holding on to. I was struggling, and this was 5.10d! Was I really about to lead 5.11c?

Up on the GT Ledge, I wasn't sure I was up for Enduro Man. I was freezing. We were surrounded by fog.

Maybe the season was really over. Wouldn't it be nice to rappel off, have some hot tea, and do some 5.8's?

Fredy wasn't having it.

He said if I didn't send, we would just pack up and go home.

He told me I knew exactly what to do.

He reminded me that I'd never actually fallen on Enduro Man. I'd just given up at various points.

(Photo: Fredy on the GT Ledge, psyched for Enduro Man.)

Eventually he shamed me into giving it a try. I racked up, grimly. I told myself to have no expectations, just to be safe and keep climbing.

It went perfectly. Of course.

I placed my crux gear and then committed to the first hard bit right away. The moves felt easier than ever before and in an instant I was holding the bomber horizontal.

Then crux number two, the slopery traverse, felt casual. In the cold the holds felt so positive. And with one more move up, I was now at the spot where I'd given up the last time. But this time I had no intention of giving up. This time I wasn't so depleted. I couldn't believe how quickly I'd gotten there.

Fredy was shouting encouragement, saying I had it in the bag. I told him to shut up. I didn't want to jinx my send.

But I was just being superstitious. I knew I wasn't going to fall now. I just needed to execute a few more easy moves and it would all be over. I carefully picked my way to the top and let out a victory yell. I'd finally sent Enduro Man, pitch 3.

I felt great. I wasn't cold at all. I wouldn't have done it without Fredy's encouragement.

(Photo: The view from the top of the cliff on a foggy December 1.)

After we were done with Enduro Man, I didn't care what we did. Fredy decided he wanted to try Uphill All the Way (5.12a), also known as The Man Who Fell to Earth. This short pitch ascends a beautiful, technical crack, and then follows a weird, arching corner to a final crux move out of the corner and onto a slab.

Fredy wanted to lead it. I didn't know how hard it would be to place gear in the thin crack. It looked like it was going to be all nuts and I worried a bit about Fredy's lack of experience with passive gear. But he was game for it and promised to be careful, and I didn't want to do anything to hold him back. In our few visits to the Gunks I'd learned to trust in his abilities.

As it turned out, the first moves up the thin crack are actually pretty casual, and it is easy to place bomber gear before the tough moves begin.

(Photo: Fredy on Uphill All the Way (5.12a).)

Fredy didn't get the on-sight but it was an impressive performance nonetheless. He got up the initial crack and then made some difficult moves up the arching corner, fighting for good gear and every inch of progress. He ended up making it all the way to the final crux move on to the slab, but then he fell off. He worked it out after a couple of more tries, finishing the climb.

(Photo: Fredy at the final crux move on Uphill All the Way (5.12a).)

Following Fredy up this route, I discovered that this might become my top 5.12 contender, even though there remain a couple of moves that I didn't quite figure out. I had trouble in the middle of the pitch, with a hard move up as you start the slanting corner. I didn't quite master this move but I did succeed at an alternate sequence that involves stepping to the right and making a big throw to a jug. And then I also fell a bunch at the top move around and onto the slab, but I think I know what to do there now and I'll eventually get it right.

(Photo: That's me on Uphill All the Way (5.12a). Photo by Fredy.)

I liked the gear. Having top-roped it once, I'm pretty comfortable with the idea of working this climb on lead. I might fix a nut or two if I fall repeatedly at the hard bits, but that's okay.

* * *

I did lots of fun climbing in 2018. I had a great trip to Squamish with Adrian in the spring, and another productive trip to Whitehorse and Cathedral Ledges with Will in the fall, which I will eventually write about.

Closer to home, I didn't rack up too many achievements in the Gunks this year. For reasons that I can't really pin down, I coasted through most of 2018. But meeting up with Fredy in the fall definitely gave a boost to my ambitions. I'm very happy to have gotten exposed to some new and harder climbs, and to have capped off my year with Enduro Man, which at 5.11c is my hardest trad send to date.

Next year I intend to put a real emphasis on working a couple of my 5.12 targets into submission. So long as I have partners willing to patiently belay me for parts of every climbing day, I should be able to do it.

I don't know if that partner will be Fredy, since he and his wife just had that baby they were expecting! Maybe he'll settle into domestic bliss, scale it back, and forget about climbing for a while. And on the rare occasions that we get out I'll be dragging him up climbs for a change...

But I doubt it. More likely, he'll be hangboarding in the nursery. When I next see him he will probably be stronger than ever.

Last Days of The Winter (5.10d)

(Photo: Getting into the overhangs on Carbs and Caffeine (5.11a). Photo by Adrian.)

We live in an age of great environmental peril. Temperatures are climbing at an alarming rate. Ice sheets are melting. Scientists project that someday soon the oceans will rise up like giant gulper eels and swallow our coastal cities whole.

It is enough to make you feel guilty whenever the weather is nice. On days when it is warm and the sun is shining, it is hard to enjoy yourself without feeling at least a small, nagging tug of disquietude.

"What a wonderful day," you think to yourself.

"(We are all going to die.)"

So one might expect that yucky, cold days would provoke feelings of relief. Maybe if the weather is lousy, as befits the season, we are NOT going to die. Or not so soon, anyway. We ought to take comfort in any anecdotal evidence we can get that the end is not so near after all.

But it doesn't work that way. Not for me. When it is appropriately damp and cold in March, I am not grateful. I am resentful. I feel the weight of our impending doom, regardless of the present conditions. And I expect something in return. If my property is soon to be beneath the sea, the very least nature can do for me is to grant me some excellent climbing days before everything goes forever into the crapper.

Is that so much to ask?

I was supposed to take a trip to the New River Gorge at the end of this week. "This week" being practically mid-April, for crying out loud. But with snow (!!) in the West Virginia forecast for Friday, and an expected high of 37 degrees in Fayetteville on Saturday, it looks like we are calling it off. We had a contingency plan-- we were going to push it off for one week if the weather was lousy. But the forecast for next week is a solid wall of rain showers. So it looks like that ain't happening either.

I am feeling grumpy about it all. But I will make the best of it.

Maybe I'll console myself with a day in the Gunks, if it gets warm enough to melt the snow they got this week.

Since my last report, I did get out in the Gunks one time, with Adrian. The temperatures were in the low forties (just warm enough for climbing, in my opinion). Unlike my prior (sunny) day with Andy, this one was overcast and the air felt a bit damp.

My goal was to put Carbs and Caffeine (5.11a) away, once and for all. Adrian was willing to do it with me, so we trooped on down there first thing, hoping in vain that we would warm up on the walk.

(Photo: Adrian getting started on the 5.8-ish pitch one of Carbs and Caffeine.)

It was still cold and damp as we got started. Adrian led the first pitch without delay, but as I stood there belaying him I found myself shivering. I told myself I would feel warmer once I got up on the wall. Soon enough I was climbing and I joined Adrian at the anchor, ready to see if the third time would be the charm for me on the crux pitch.

(Photo: Coming up pitch one of Carbs and Caffeine. Photo by Adrian.)

This time I knew I had the beta. It had been only a week since I'd almost sent the damned thing. I expected that the crux move would be hard but as long as I executed my sequences properly I figured I would get through it.

(Photo: Ready to go for it on Carbs and Caffeine (5.11a). Photo by Adrian.)

Heading upward through the tiers of overhanging rock, I got to the first bolt without a problem. After I clipped it, I tried to move up into the crux right away, but when I made the big reach up to the sloper hold, I didn't like it. The rock felt slippery. I needed to match on the hold but I wasn't sure I could hold on in the current conditions. I stepped back down and tried to shake out beneath the crux.

Then I went up again. Still no good. It seemed like I was about to slip off the sloper. I had to step back down again.

(Photo: Adrian at the 5.11a crux of Carbs and Caffeine.)

If I didn't get on with this move I was going to end up taking a hang. I was shaking out in an overhanging position. I couldn't really rest. I wished I'd found the knee-bar rest at the crux that people talk about. I decided I couldn't afford to wait around any more.

On the third try I forced myself to commit to the match. I thought for a fraction of a second that I was about to go flying but, luckily, I didn't. I stuck it. And then I stepped up to the crimps knowing that I had this climb in the bag if I could keep it together. I tried to stay focused as I moved up the slab to the final challenge.

(Photo: Adrian in the final crab-crawl traverse on Carbs and Caffeine.)

This time I remembered to move up to the good hold in the corner before plugging in gear for the traverse. Placing a bomber blue Alien over my shoulder, I dove out there into space, hoping I would feel as solid on the no-feet crab-crawl as I had the previous week. But in the damp air the traverse felt a little bit harder. I nearly lost it when one of my toes slid off, but again I managed to hold on and with a few more moves I got around the corner to the stance. The pitch was over.

As I stood there backing up the fixed anchor I felt very relieved. And a little bit proud. Carbs and Caffeine, baby! And it was only March!

I was quickly brought back to earth when we moved on to The Winter. This pitch, at 5.10(d), is supposed to be marginally easier than Carbs and Caffeine-- but it is a very different style of climb, so it is hard to make a meaningful comparison. The Winter is a technical corner climb, with some awkward climbing up a slot before the real business begins in the smooth, thin corner.

The route has been a nemesis of mine. I find it intimidating and scary. I've backed off of it twice before even reaching the crux corner. The early going up the slot is kind of in your face (though it is definitely easier than 5.10+), and the cracks for gear are kind of flaring. On two occasions I've made the first couple of moves, and, confronting a committing sequence with so-so cams, I've decided to step back down and walk away.

(Photo: Starting up the awkward slot on The Winter (5.10d) in October 2014. Photo by Gail. The tights were in honor of Eighties Day in the Gunks.)

I'm sure my fear of the upper portion of the pitch has played a role in the urge I've felt to abort. From the ground it appears there are placements in the crux corner, but they are tiny nuts. There is a piton at the end of the hard climbing, but the move to get to that piton isn't easy and on the lead you are going to be above whatever small gear you can arrange in the corner.

This time around I hoped to commit to the move down low and then, once I reached the main corner, I would make sure I got the best pro I could get.

As I started the pitch I managed to place three pieces before committing to the move out of the initial slot. The move went fine and soon I was standing at the base of the desperate crux corner.

So far, so good.

But then it all fell apart.

(Photo: Finessing gear at the start of the crux corner on The Winter (5.10d). Photo by Adrian.)

I placed as much gear as I could manage. I got a good Alien at my knees and then I placed four (yes, four!) nuts in the corner. I liked a few of these nut placements but they were all small.

I had a hard time getting myself psyched up to launch on up above the nuts. I worked out the move but couldn't make myself go. Eventually I took a hang. Then I made the hard move up the corner but got really nervous making the stand-up move to the piton. I fumbled desperately and then took a real whip. The fall was clean, and now that I'd really welded my top nut in place I felt a bit better about climbing above it again. I went back up, made the final hard move and finished the pitch.

(Photo: Adrian on The Winter (5.10d).)

I'm not happy about how it went. I was so tentative. But now I have The Winter all sorted out. And now I know that The Winter is quite safe. The fall is clean and the nuts are good. Adrian had to fight to get some of them out. I think I should be able to go back and fire it off. And then I'll have to try the second pitch of The Spring (5.10d), directly above, which everyone says is a great roof problem pitch. I've never been on it.

I think Carbs and Caffeine and The Winter showed both my strengths and weaknesses as a climber.

On the plus side, I think I have reached a basic level of climbing proficiency (after many years of mediocrity). And I'm persistent, which is also a plus.

On the negative side, I know I have real mental challenges. I have a fear of falling. When the moves are hard I often find it difficult to commit, even when I'm certain that the gear is good. And when I do eventually commit, my fear makes me climb poorly. I get tunnel vision and fumble around because I am scared. It happened the first time I tried Carbs. And it has happened several times now on The Winter. The fear of falling has caused me to give up, to hang, and to fall.

It is a paradox. To some degree fear is healthy and necessary. Especially when trad climbing, you should always be aware of the risks of falling. It would be foolish and dangerous to behave as if falling were not a potential problem. But when reasonable caution morphs into irrational fear, the danger increases because failure becomes much more likely. The fear makes you fall when you might not have fallen otherwise.

(Photo: Feeling fine while running it out on the first pitch of Annie Oh! (5.8). Photo by Adrian.)

I'm not sure what I can do to address the issue except to keep trying hard. I've never been a big believer in taking practice falls, and I don't think my specific fear of falling would be addressed by the type of deliberate falling one does for practice. It isn't falling in and of itself that is the problem. I'm not paralyzed on easier climbs-- it's when I'm at my limit, or when I'm climbing on a style of route with which I'm uncomfortable.

The good news is that, as I push to work on harder climbs, the grade at which I feel free and easy is also getting higher. I think I really need to push myself to trust my gear and go for it more often. If I can do that, I'll have a shot at on-sighting more of these harder climbs, and I may reach a whole new level.

We'll see how it goes when I pick the next project. What should it be? Harvest Moon (5.11a)? No Man's Land (5.11b)? Square Meal (5.11a)? So many to choose from...

What's next?

(Photo: Gingerly exploring Avoid Where Inhibited (5.11a). Photo by Andy.)

So what's next?

What do I want out of the 2016 climbing season?

I've been asking myself this question all winter.

2015 was a great year for me. I broke through to a whole new level, climbing my first trad 5.11's and knocking off a bunch of the most legendary tens in the Gunks, including Ridicullissima, Erect Direction, Fat City Direct, Coexistence and Graveyard Shift, just to name a few! The year was like a dream come to life-- every visit to the Gunks seemed to produce a new milestone.

In 2015 I also took really fun trips to Seneca Rocks and Indian Creek. At Seneca I felt instantly comfortable on my feet and on-sighted several classic tens. At Indian Creek I was much less sure of myself but I still had fun working on the amazing splitters and learning the ways of the crack climber.

My last big goal for the year was to climb Carbs and Caffeine (5.11a) at the Gunks. I spent the whole year wondering if I could do it and working up the courage. I did finally attempt it in late November, though it was far from a send. I ended up hanging all over it, in both crux sections. Still, when it was over, I could see that this climb was possible. I knew what to do. I just needed to go back and execute, without a lot of dilly-dallying.

So as the winter began I knew that Carbs would remain on "the list" for 2016. But what else did I want to accomplish in the new year?

I have a list of Gunks elevens I want to tackle (i.e., virtually all of them). And there are so many great tens in the Gunks that I have plenty of them left to do as well. (Matinee (5.10d), I am looking at you.) And there are even a few twelves I am considering.

But I need more than a list of climbs. I need a plan. I want to keep my trajectory of improvement going. I don't want to plateau-- I think I have plenty of room yet to get better.

Over the past few months, the climbing days have been infrequent despite the relatively mild winter. As a consequence, When I've been able to get out I've taken it easier and not pushed it so much, although nowadays when I'm not pushing it I'm doing climbs that used to be a big deal to me.

(Photo: Adam below the intimidating Wishbone (5.10+) roof.)

In December I went to Lost City with Adam and had a great time on some climbs that I'd long wanted to attempt, and we also had a lot of fun trying to lead a few lines that were a total mystery to us. I was happy to on-sight the Wishbone (5.10+?) roof. I also made a game effort at the nearby Resistance (5.10c), but had to hang at the crux. I think Resistance is one of the nicest face climbs in the Gunks. It has consistent, beautiful thin moves up a little seam. I need to go back to lead it cleanly.

(Photo: Adam on Resistance (5.10c).)

There are so many great leads at Lost City. Just to the right of Wishbone is a technical face climb called Cars That Eat People (5.11a), which I am dying to try. Further to the right, I have stared with wonder at Persistent (5.11+) on more than one occasion. The list goes on: I have never attempted the popular Lost City Crack (5.10), and I still have to go back and get the red-point on Stannard's Roof (5.10). And there are many awe-inspiring twelves and thirteens that can be top-roped and worked into submission.

Goal No. 1 for 2016: spend more time at Lost City!

I have also been out in the Nears a few times over these past few months. On a warm day in December I went there with Anna and Robbie. I was psyched to get clean leads on both Shitface (5.10c) and Transcon (5.10b). Shitface has nice climbing up a bulging, smooth face and then a brief but stout crux at the overhang. People say it is a scary lead but I thought the pro was good throughout, even above the crux where the route has a reputation for being necky.

Transcon, by contrast, was a frightening lead for me. I was quaking in my boots as I high-stepped on the low slab even though I had three pieces in. I know people have been injured here. Even with good gear it seems perilous. And at the top, above the well-protected roof, the finishing moves are truly run out and intimidating.

(Photo: Anna following my lead of Shitface (5.10c).)

I need to get used to Transcon, so I can run up it to set up the hard climbs that surround it. This part of the Nears is known as the "Workout Wall," because it is stacked with unprotectable hard climbs that are usually top-roped. In December, Robbie and I tried to do one of these, El Kabong (5.12c), on top rope, and neither of us was able to get past the crux-- it is steep, balancy and thin. But it was fun just working out the moves to get to the crux, and I think going back would be good for me.

(Photo: Robbie confronting the scary slab on Transcontinental Nailway (5.10b).)

I have barely touched on any of the hard climbing that is available in the Nears-- and actually I've not hit many of the cliff's classic tens like Elder Cleavage (5.10b) and Criss Cross Direct (5.10a).

Goal No. 2 for 2016: spend more time in the Nears!

In February and March we had some really good days for climbing. I got out a few times with Andy and sometimes a few others as well. I've previously described Andy as a person with a sport climber's mindset. He is still pretty new to the area, and trad hasn't been his big thing, so I have been acting as his Gunks tour guide for the last year or so. But I think I've been holding him back. He has been ripping it up in the gym lately and on our last few visits to the Gunks it has become clear to me that he is poised to do great things in our little trad paradise.

(Photo: Andy past the crux on Avoid Where Inhibited (5.11a).)

In February Andy and I were out at the far end of the Nears. I wanted to take a look at some of the elevens out there. We checked out Harvest Moon (5.11a but it looks harder). The starting chimney was slimy/wet so there was no chance we could do it. Moving over to the Voids, I attempted to lead the one on the right, Avoid Where Inhibited (5.11a). I hadn't been outside in a while and I felt tentative about committing to the move, even though the gear was so good that I was essentially on top rope, with two perfect red Camalots in the vertical layback crack at the crux. I made a few meek efforts at figuring it out and then decided I wasn't feeling it, and asked Andy if he wanted the lead.

(Photo: Andy trying to get started on Void Where Prohibited (5.11d).)

Andy flashed the right-hand Void in ten seconds. And he used exactly the same beta that I was experimenting with. I was mad at myself. I sent it on top rope and wished I'd been bolder.

Then Andy got greedy and decided to lead the other Void-- Void Where Prohibited (5.11d)-- but got nowhere. I couldn't do it either. There must be some very specific beta for getting your body into this blank corner right off the ground, but neither of us could find the solution.

(Photo: That's me on Last Frontier (5.10a) with Simon handling the belay. I liked this climb-- it was hard for me, but if you like jamming it will be easy for you. Photo by Gail.)

More recently, in March, Andy and I found ourselves with a group of climbers down at the Slime Wall. I was psyched to lead Falled on Account of Strain (5.10b) like it was no big deal, which was quite a change from my abortive on-sight attempt at this route a few years ago. This has to be one of my favorite tens. It combines wonderful face climbing with a truly outrageous, multi-tiered overhang. And I finally got around to red-pointing Simple Suff (5.10a/b), so I can take that one off of the list as well.

(Photo: Gail at the finishing lip of the roof on Falled on Account of Strain (5.10b).)

The real star of the day was Techno Suff (5.12a), which we top-roped from the Simple Suff anchors. This steep face has interesting climbing up an arching crack and then some big technical moves between small holds. When I tried this climb I fell several times but in the end I was pleased because I figured out every move and I could see myself sending it one day. Andy one-hanged it, which I found very impressive. He also on-sight led Frustration Syndrome with the R-rated direct 5.11b/c start. (The man is on fire.) I tried to follow him but I had to hang at the direct start and ultimately worked out a totally different solution than the way Andy did it. I don't know if I'd dare lead it. There is no gear for the hard move but a good spotter or a strategically placed backpack might suffice.

(Photo: Connie confronting the crack on Techno Suff (5.12a).)

On our most recent day out, I decided it was time to really get started with my season. Andy and I paid a visit to Carbs and Caffeine. Andy led the first pitch and then I set off on pitch two for my red-point attempt. It went pretty well. I ALMOST got it done. I led up into the roofs with some confidence and got to the 5.11 crux without wearing myself out too much. I clipped the first bolt and took a look. I basically remembered the beta from my last attempt so I didn't waste too much time before I made a big reach up to a sloper hold, matched hands, and then stepped up and left to some little crimps. It was a tough sequence but I got through it. I was crimping on to the tiny holds, and feeling a bit shaky, but I was still in the game.

Standing there, with the second bolt at my chest, I carefully grabbed a draw and clipped it. I wasn't quite done but I knew I was in good shape for the send, if only I could stop trembling.

I started talking to myself.

"Calm down," I told myself. "Breathe! One more move and you are out. Keep it together."

Andy couldn't see me but he could hear what I was saying. He called up to me. "Dude, you are scaring me!"

This snapped me out of my near-panic. I told him I was fine: I had two bolts clipped, after all. I made the move and got out of there.

I should have been home free but at the top of the pitch, right before the dreaded crab-crawl traverse, I forgot about a crucial hold from which it is easy to place gear. I wore myself out trying to place the pro from a bad hold and when I tried to step back down to shake out I got tangled in the rope and had to hang. It was disappointing. When I went back up and did the moves they felt much easier than the last time.

I will go back again. I can do this climb. I know it now.

(Photo: Andy on the 5.9 pitch one of Carbs and Caffeine (5.11a).)

After we were done with Carbs, Andy and I took a look at The Sting (5.11d). I've never really dreamed that I was capable of sending The Sting but Andy saw it and got more excited than I've ever seen him. The climb is short, perhaps just 50 feet, but it packs a punch. It has big moves between horizontals on a smooth white face. The first and last moves are both dynamic jumps. It is very unusual for the Gunks. Andy decided to lead it.

He placed a bomber blue Alien at the first horizontal and launched off on the dyno. He missed. The Alien held and Andy was caught a few feet off the ground. He tried without success a few more times, and then decided to lead up Lisa (5.9), the climb next door, so we could work The Sting on top rope.

(Photo: Andy heading up Lisa (5.9). I didn't care for this one. It is a two-move wonder with an awkward crux. But it is a very useful climb for setting up The Sting)

Andy had little trouble working out the moves on The Sting once he had the security of a rope over his head. It was much harder for me. I failed at the opening dyno over and over again. But with some helpful coaching from Andy I eventually was able to stick it-- on what was perhaps my 15th try. I couldn't get the other dyno at the top worked out but after I was done Andy went back up to work it again and I think now I can see what I was doing wrong.

(Photo: Andy getting set up for the dyno at the start of The Sting.)

I'm sure I'll get the chance to try it again. Andy left the cliff determined to come back and lead The Sting, and when he does I'm pretty sure he'll get it. And maybe I can get it too. These last few days at the Gunks have been the first occasions on which I've tried climbs in the 5.11+/5.12- range and not felt they were totally hopeless for me. If I make a concerted effort to work on these climbs I will continue to improve. Lately that sort of projecting doesn't seem so boring to me anymore.

Goal No. 3 for 2016: keep hanging out with Andy! He will push me to greater heights.

As it happens, Andy and I will be heading to the New River Gorge in two weeks for a four-day climbing trip. Gail is also coming with her son Max. The New has both sport and trad but for the first time in my life I am thinking that sport climbing should be my focus. I've never really given it a fair chance. And I want to really work at a "soft" 5.12 and see what I can do.

2016 has barely begun but I feel like great things have already happened. I'm in pretty good shape and it's still March. I am excited to see what the rest of the year will bring.

Gobbling Up the Remains of the Season: Carbs and Caffeine (5.11a) & More!

(Photo: I'm heading into the crux on Graveyard Shift (5.10d/5.11a) once again.)

After hosting the big family meal on Thanksgiving day, I was ready to collapse into a food coma. What with all of the cooking, baking and eating that came with the holiday, I felt ready for some rest and relaxation on Friday.

But duty called.

Alec asked me to go climbing. It was going to be quite nice in the Gunks, with a high approaching sixty degrees.

How could I refuse?

At this time of year, I tend to dial it back. Every November, as the days get shorter and cooler, my ambitions fade. I start cruising up old favorites instead of pushing my limits.

But 2015 has been such a great year for me. I don't want it to end. As November came to a close I couldn't bear to waste any remaining climbing days that came my way. I still had many projects I was eager to hit.

While I've been making some progress, Alec has really been on a roll in the Gunks. When I've run into him at the crag he has looked super solid to me. I knew he was more than able to handle anything I could come up with.

First on my list was Graveyard Shift (5.10d). I had failed to get the redpoint on my last attempt. I should have made it, but I messed up above the crux roof and stuck my right toe out too far, causing a fall at the final hard move! It was a silly mistake and I regretted it deeply in the days that followed. I knew that if I'd executed my beta properly I would have sent this climb.

I had to go back again. I told Alec that when we got to the Gunks on Friday, I wanted to march right up to Graveyard Shift and knock it off.

So that's what we did.

(Photo: Alec heading into the scary bulge on Graveyard Shift back in July, with his wife Liz-- also a strong climber-- handling the belay.)

Heading up, I got through the initial scary bulge in no time and danced up the face to the good hold beneath the overhang. I tried to place my crux gear quickly and then I briefly reviewed my strategy before firing it off. It was an instant success. The sequence went down easily and before I knew it Graveyard Shift was over.

It was 9:00 a.m. and my send of the year was in the bag.

Despite my numerous fumbling attempts at this route, I think Graveyard really isn't that hard. It is cryptic if you don't know where the holds are. So it's a tough on-sight. But now that I know what to do I think I really should send it every time going forward. This is in contrast to a route like Coexistence (5.10d), which I could easily fail to send tomorrow. Even if I do everything right, I might not make it.

Once we were done with Graveyard Shift, Alec and I moved just a little ways down the wall so that he could lead MF Direct (5.10a R). I was psyched to follow him up it because I wanted to check out the gear in preparation for a lead of my own.

(Photo: Alec placing gear next to the pin below the crux of MF Direct (5.10a).)

Alec made quick work of it and then decided to keep going, tackling the Birdie Party roof (5.10b) too. When I followed, I looked around to see if I could make the pro on MF Direct a little more PG than R. I managed to find a tiny vertical crack just over the roof in which I could seat a purple C3. It might hold in a fall, but I'm not sure it would be worth hanging in there to place it.

(Photo: Alec at the Birdie Party (5.10b) roof.)

I liked the Birdie Party roof. I'd never done it before. It requires a big move over the hang and then you aren't quite out of the woods once you stand up. There are a few more thin moves in steep territory before it is really over.

If you combine MF Direct with the Birdie Party roof, it makes for a great single pitch-- one of the best 5.10 pitches around, I'd say. You need a 70-meter rope to lower from the fixed anchor.

Now it was my turn to pick a route and there was something I knew we just had to do.

We needed to try Carbs and Caffeine (5.11a).

I've been talking about this route all year, and with the final days of the season fading away I couldn't think of any excuse not to finally get on it. Alec had never done it-- not even the first pitch-- and he generously gave me permission to lead the crux second pitch.

(Photo: Alec setting off on the 5.8/5.9 first pitch of Carbs and Caffeine, with the insane roofs of pitch two looming above.)

Alec knocked off the first part of the route without any problems. It is a really nice face climb, with a good technical crux protected by small nuts.

Standing at the bolted anchor atop the first pitch, I couldn't see where the route went. I knew there were two bolts up there in the sea of roofs, but I couldn't spot them.

I would have to get going and see how it went.

I set myself up for a hang-fest by moving very slowly and deliberately right from the start. I found out that the crux comes after you've already weaved your way up and left through several overhangs. It went roof, roof, roof... oh here's the first bolt, how nice! And by now I was already fatigued, hanging in there, and I was faced with a very cruxy, beta-intensive sequence to get up to and past the next bolt.

(Photo: Alec following pitch two of Carbs and Caffeine (5.11a).)

I had a tough time with the crux and after a few game attempts I had to hang. I kept trying to clip the second bolt from below, which was a tremendous waste of energy. Once I got the second bolt clipped (after several tries) I worked out a difficult but doable way to get through the move and I could finally get on with the rest of the climb.

The upper crux was still to come. Once I got beneath it, I was very intimidated. There is a no-feet traverse out from under a huge ceiling. Again you have to do a few roof moves just to get to the place where you start the crux. I wanted perfect pro for this sequence and I confess I took another hang at the optional belay point in order to fiddle with the gear and get my head together. I figured the send was already blown anyway.

(Photo: Alec getting into the intimidating final traverse on Carbs.)

Once I committed to heaving myself up into the space below the huge roof I was able to reach out and place a good piece further out to protect the traverse, and then I made it through the desperate moves to the fixed anchor. The hands were surprisingly good. It's really just about getting your toes on something, anything, as you move out from under the overhang.

(Photo: Alec finishing it up.)

Because we had my 70 meter rope, I could lower to the ground from the fixed anchor and watch Alec work through the entire pitch. He sent it easily. I wanted to watch him do the crux but I looked down for just a second and missed it! That's how easy it was for him.

I think Carbs is safe and it is one of the very best climbs I've ever done. It just goes and goes. The atmosphere of endless overhangs is pretty special and unique to the Gunks. It is one of those routes which you could say epitomizes what the Gunks is all about. 

I could have climbed it better, obviously. But even if I'd been perfect and confident I don't think I would have sent this thing on the first try. It's so continuous and the crux comes after so many roofs.  

I will go back for a real send attempt. This one worked out to be more of an exploratory mission. 

If you plan to hop on Carbs and Caffeine, I would advise you to extend all of your early pieces, up to and including the two bolts. There is an edge below the first bolt which could damage your rope if the rope is pulled tightly against the rock. With the pieces extended, I thought this wasn't an issue.

After we were done with Carbs I was feeling pretty worked. But Alec was still full of energy and he proposed we try a route called Three Vultures Direct (5.10c). This variation route starts up the second pitch of Three Vultures (5.9) but then busts straight over a roof instead of traversing to the right. The Direct eventually goes up and left to join Amber Waves of Pain (5.10a) at its final roof problem. This route is described in the Trapps App but it isn't in Dick's guidebook.

After I led the first pitch of Face to Face to get us to the GT Ledge, Alec sent Three Vultures Direct but it didn't exactly look easy. The roof seemed like big pull and then Alec found another tough, technical sequence up the face before he ultimately joined Amber Waves. He found good gear along the way.

(Photo: A tough shot of a tough roof. Through the branches you can see Alec at the crux roof on Three Vultures Direct (5.10c).)

When I got up there I found out that I was really wasted. The roof was very difficult for me. I made it over but I was grateful I was on top rope. It is a good challenge, and the face climbing afterwards is also fun. I thought this variation was quite worthwhile, though it isn't as spectacular as its neighbor Face to Face.

We still had a little time before it got dark and I decided to sleepwalk up Silhouette (5.7+), an old favorite, to finish the day. I was wiped out. We'd done some hard pitches.

After this day with Alec the season seemed all but over in my mind. As I organized my gear at home, I noticed some of my slings were starting to look a bit beaten up. I calculated the age of all of my stuff and I realized I was long overdue for some gear maintenance. So I decided to get it all over with at once. I packed up all my cams and sent them off to be reslung. And I pitched my slings, bought a new backpack, and washed my rope.

Of course I did all this before I checked the forecast! It seems that this will be the season that never ends.

Luckily most of my climbing friends have their own gear. And in a few weeks when I have all my stuff back I'll really be ready to hit it in 2016.