Learning the (Top) Ropes in Lost City

(Photo: That's me leading Resistance (5.10c) at Lost City. Photo by Connie.)

I'm getting frustrated.

"I don't think I can do this," I say.

We are in Lost City, in the area known as the Survival Block. It is ground zero for Gunks hard-man top-roping.

I'm just one move off of the ground and I'm already flailing on an "easy" 5.12 top-rope. I need to get up an overhanging arête, using invisible Houdini footholds. A juggy rail is just out of reach. I can't find a way to stay on the wall until I reach the good hold.

Perhaps I can forget about advanced footwork and throw for the jug? My partner Andy has just done it this way.

I try for the throw and come up short, swinging out and away from the wall. As I fly outward my feet barely clear the talus blocks.

"Maybe this is pointless," I wonder out loud.

"You'll never know if you don't actually try," Andy says. "You have to do it again, and COMMIT this time."

I know he's right. My throw was utterly half-assed. I set up to try again, and fail again. But I'm improving: I get my fingers on the good hold for half a second.

"You've almost got it and you're still not really going for it," Andy observes. "Stop being such a WIENER about it, and you've got it made."

Again, I know he is absolutely right. What am I afraid of? Is it the harmless swing out into space? Could it be the crowd of onlookers, every one of them (I assume) a better climber than me?

I psych myself up to try again.

"Just do the move, idiot."

Eventually I get the jug.

The rest of the climb goes more smoothly. I don't get it clean but I quickly work out the difficult bits and believe I could do these moves again. Once I am back on the ground, I feel okay about it all.

Resistoflex is a Gunks 5.12. And it isn't that bad! It can be accomplished by mortals.

(Photo: Gabe taking a quick top-rope run on Resistoflex (5.12), with Andy handling the belay. Gabe led the pitch earlier in the day.)

If I come back to Resistoflex and run through it a few more times I might even consider leading it.

I'm still not used to this style of working routes, but I am coming around to it.

*    *    * 

Years ago I dabbled a bit with the Gunks top-rope game and found it maddening, boring, even counter-productive. Twelves in the Gunks seemed cryptic and impossible. Why was I wasting my time shredding my tips on these climbs, which I couldn't do and did not enjoy? I had a mile-long list of easier, leadable routes I desperately wanted to climb.

I recognized that other people achieved rapid progress by working hard routes into submission. But I had a limited number of climbing days and I wanted to spend them doing full-length, world-class routes, not struggling for hours just to do a few hard moves. If slow improvement was the price I had to pay for adventure and on-sight leading, I could live with that.

My way of climbing was very satisfying... for a while. But then I seemed to stagnate at the 5.10 level. I fooled around with the tens for years, having occasional success with the easiest climbs in the grade but struggling with the harder ones. The most impressive tens in the Gunks seemed beyond me and too scary. Elevens? No way.

I wanted to get better, but I didn't want to sacrifice what I found most fun about climbing: going for the on-sight and trying new routes. So for a long time I just carried on in the same way, and didn't really get anywhere.

I finally broke through the plateau when I started treating my climbing as a series of projects. I picked climbs that I knew were pushing my limits. I hoped for the on-sight but if it didn't happen I did not give up and move on. Instead I thought about what I needed to do to come back and succeed. And then I made sure to return and put in the work.

This approach yielded dividends. I sent harder climbs than I'd ever considered possible before. And routes I used to struggle with seemed suddenly easy. I knocked off many of the legendary classics I'd always dreamed of doing. With my horizons broadened to include many climbs that were new and difficult for me, I didn't feel like I lost much in terms of adventure.

And now it is 2016, a new season. In order to keep improving, I know I have to keep picking climbs outside my comfort zone. And recently I've started thinking that if I really want to get significantly better, I need to reassess my antipathy towards working on seriously hard stuff on TR.

So when Andy and I headed up to the Gunks on a recent Sunday, I was thinking about Lost City, the home of the hard top-ropes. Our friends Connie and Alex were coming along, and they also had the same idea, so we were all on the same page.....

...maybe.

I had several climbs I wanted to lead. I figured we would probably get around to doing something on TR eventually. But first I had some unfinished business to take care of with Stannard's Roof (5.10).

(Photo: That's me on Stannard's Roof (5.10) in 2013, struggling to get the wrong cam off of my gear sling.)

I led this route in July of 2013 and I should have sent it on the first go. I fell because I wasted all of my energy trying (and failing) to get a cam off of my gear sling. I remember it as a comical scene. I was fully horizontal in the roof, hanging in there forever in the slimy summer heat. My cams were all behind my back, dangling off of my gear sling into space. I couldn't see the gear. I had to fumble blindly to get at the cam I wanted. Finally I got the cam loose, but then as I reached up to place it I saw to my horror that I'd fished out the wrong cam. It wouldn't fit, and I was screwed.

After this incident I swore off the gear sling forever. I have racked on my harness ever since.

Now, almost three years later, I hoped to run through Stannard's Roof as our warm-up, with no drama. This was April, not July, and there was a chill in the air. The rock felt fine in the sun, but as I approached the roof I went into the shade under the big ceiling. The rock under there was quite cold to the touch. But I wasn't worried about it (cold rock = good friction!), and I tried not to waste any time as I moved out under the roof. I placed one cam, moved out some more, and placed another.

Everything was going great as I grabbed the holds at the lip of the overhang. I just had to rotate my body and reach up to the higher holds so I could stand up above the roof.

I was almost done. Easy peasy.

(Photo: Andy coming up Stannard's Roof (5.10).)

But then I couldn't move. The rope seemed stuck. I looked down under the roof to see what the problem was, and I realized, once again to my horror, that I'd messed up. I had Z-clipped my two cams under the roof! This was a nightmare. Talk about a comical scene. What was I going to do now?

Moving up was not an option. I had to downclimb back under the roof to fix the cams. I couldn't see any alternative. So that's what I did. I reversed the moves, unclipped the second cam, and re-clipped it correctly. Then I had to climb back up and out again, and by this time the tips of my fingers were freezing. They were starting to burn. But I was determined not to blow it and I got out without falling.

(Photo: Andy making it over the lip on Stannard's Roof (5.10).)

I was furious with myself for making such a stupid mistake, but happy I was able to hang in there. I was so relieved to get to the stance above the roof.

(Photo: Andy leading an unnamed (?) 5.10 to the right of Stannard's. This is a good route, with a fun crux at the triangular overlap.)

Andy and I did a few more 5.10 leads and then went looking for Connie and Alex. They had started out climbing nearby, but at some point they'd wandered off. We found them at the Survival Block with some other folks we know from our gym, the Cliffs at LIC.

Gabe, a strong climber who is less than half my age, seemed to be leading the group. He'd set up ropes on Resistoflex as well as on Persistent (5.11d) and Survival of the Fittest (5.13a), and on Gold Streaks (5.11) over on the next wall to the right.

Connie was gamely going for it on Survival when we showed up. The climb looked brutally hard. But Connie was thrilled to be trying something that was a real challenge for her. Kat, another LIC regular, was taking multiple burns on Persistent, trying to pink-point it on lead with pre-placed gear.

(Photo: Kat on Persistent (5.11d), with Gabe belaying her.)

As I watched them gleefully working these routes, I knew that I should be doing exactly what they were doing. If I had the same attitude, I would improve. I felt shamed. So Andy and I did some top-roping.

It went fine. The world did not come crashing down around us. We had fun. Andy and I ran up Gold Streaks (5.11), a wonderful route with poor protection. Then we gave Resistoflex a good effort, which in the end was very worthwhile, and not pointless at all.

Gabe offered me a run on Persistent, but I begged off. I had reasons, of course. I told myself that the climb has great gear; it seemed like I should save it for an on-sight attempt. But the real reason was that there were so many people around. Several of them were strangers to me. Such a big audience made me self-conscious. I felt like I didn't belong.

Honestly, I was being silly. But Connie and Alex had wandered off again, and this provided as good an excuse as any for us to clear out too. We wanted to find our friends. So we moved on.

(Photo: Alex on Gravity's Rainbow (5.12).)

We located them at the far right end of Lost City, laying siege to another 5.12. I'd never ventured this far over to the right before. The trail here comes much closer to the cliff, and most of the rock is on little free-standing buttresses. I don't know the names of any of the routes in this area, but it looks like there are a bunch of easy scrambles... and one imposing, overhanging climb up a smooth face.

This is Gravity's Rainbow (5.12).

When Andy and I arrived, Alex had already set it up on TR. He was now climbing it, and was almost at the top, having figured out the hard bits. He was thinking about leading it at some time in the near future.

(Photo: Connie on Gravity's Rainbow (5.12).)

Once he was done, I watched Connie work her way up the route. It seemed like there were two very very hard cruxes. And one of them was wet.

I started thinking about finding something else to do. I could see a crack climb over yonder. It didn't look too bad, probably 5.9 or 5.10. Maybe Andy and I could go do that one...

But it was too late. Connie was finished. The rope was free. There was to be no escape.

It was my turn to man up and do some more 5.12 top-roping.

*    *    *

I'm getting frustrated again.

Is this really the move?

I'm supposed to hold on to this ridiculously small, greasy crimp? And then I have to rock up over a high heel hook?

This crux is heinous!

I find myself saying it again: "I don't think I can do this."

Andy says he's heard that one before.

But this time I'm doing my best to prove that I mean it. I really, truly, can't do it. I'm failing over and over again. My fingers won't stay on the hold. I can't find the flexibility to get my heel up. When I manage to get the heel up, I'm frozen. I have no leverage to rock up over the heel.

I keep on falling.

I'm conscious of the fact that it's about to get dark. We have to hike out of here soon.

I hate this.

But I have to admit I'm slowly getting better. When I first tried the crux I couldn't hold the crimp at all, but now I can step up, just so, and grab it as if it is an actual hold.

I keep working the angle on the heel hook and finally, after who knows how many attempts, it all clicks. I grab the crimp; I raise my heel; I lock it in. Somehow I'm shifting my weight over the heel hook and I find myself standing, not falling. I have done it.

My three friends cheer, mostly because now we can get our gear back and go home.

But never mind, I take it as validation.

I'm learning.

I can do this.

I can top-rope.

Fun Times in Lost City

(Photo:  Wriggling into a hole after I dropped my shoe in The Corridor in Lost City.)

A few Sundays ago, Maryana and I were to meet up in the Gunks. I'd been not climbing for a few weeks because everyone in my family was occupied with moving back into our renovated apartment. But I hadn't forgotten climbing, far from it! I was eager-- you might even say desperate-- to get back out there.

The forecast was iffy. Maryana was already up in the Gunks climbing the day before. She was able to climb for most of the day but around 5:00 p.m. the skies opened up. It began pouring with a vengeance. And once it started, it came on heavily, continuing into the evening without any prospect of slowing down.

Maryana sent me a text saying we might want to call it off. But I checked the forecast and it looked okay to me. The rain was supposed to stop overnight. The only question was whether it would be clear enough in the morning for the cliffs to get some sun. If the cliffs get air and light they dry off very quickly. But sometimes after a rainy night a wet fog will hang over the cliffs in the morning, making it impossible to climb until the afternoon. Often as not this doesn't happen, though, and you can get a full day in.

I was willing to take the chance if Maryana was. She was planning to stay overnight anyhow, so she agreed.

But the texts kept coming.

7:30 p.m.: "Still raining."

11:45 p.m.: "Still raining..."

As I caught the bus at Port Authority the next morning it seemed like things just might be all right. It was cloudy but there was no rain.  By the time the bus reached New Paltz, however, it seemed quite damp and foggy indeed. Maryana and I lingered over breakfast in town, hoping it might brighten up a little. But the conditions remained unchanged. We decided we might as well go up and check out the wet cliffs.

Sure enough, as we came up the hill to the steel bridge we could see that both the Trapps and the Nears were engulfed in a thick cloud. But we could also see that it seemed much clearer just a little higher over towards Minnewaska.

That settled it. We decided to head up to Lost City.

Now before you nit-pickers get all indignant over the fact that I am talking about Lost City, I wish to remind you of something: there is no rule that you can't talk about Lost City. To the contrary, Lost City is frequently talked about. Climbers have long spread the word about their exploits at Lost City on the internet. Climbing personalities as esteemed as Russ Clune and Jim Lawyer have both posted about it, as have others and yet others.

What you're NOT supposed to do is publish a guidebook about Lost City. And I won't be doing that. So no worries.

I don't think there is anything to fear in talking about the climbs at Lost City. The traffic there will never be that high, because there are only a handful of climbs that go at a grade easier than hard 5.10. And most of the climbs are more difficult than that. The place is a paradise for people who like to get a workout on single-pitch steep face climbs in the 5.11 to 5.12 range. The community of people who do this is relatively small. So never fear, the cliff will never be overrun with newbies who don't know what they are doing. It won't turn into another Uberfall or Peterskill. There just isn't that much climbing at Lost City for newbies to do.

But back to the subject.

On my first trip to Lost City last autumn, I didn't climb much of anything. I went with the dad of one of my son's friends. We brought our two boys along. The day was really for the kids. I only climbed one pitch, an easy corner that I led in order to set it up for the boys. But it was exciting just to be there and check out the possibilities. I really wanted to go back some time and do some of the climbs I looked at, like the huge 5.10 ceiling known as Stannard's Roof.

(Photo:  My son Nate climbing at Lost City in the fall of 2011.  I'm sorry to say he hasn't worn these climbing shoes a single time since then!)

Apart from that first occasion, I had been to Lost City just one other time, in early January of 2012. This was one of those bizarre, unseasonably warm days last winter when you could climb like it was October. Maryana, Adrian and I had thrown ropes over some climbs in and around a little canyon known as The Corridor. At the time I was feeling kind of out of shape and I didn't get up any of the climbs we tried cleanly. On Texas Flake (5.10+) I messed up an early move that was probably 5.9, but I did manage to salvage some pride by blundering through the crux on my first try. It took me a couple of tries before I got the low crux roof of Gold Streaks (5.11-) but the upper crux on a steep face went well. I really struggled with another 5.11+ called Red Wall and I got absolutely nowhere on a hard face climb called Caffeine and Nicotine (5.12).

When Maryana and I returned to Lost City the other week we just wanted to find something that was dry enough to climb. We didn't really care what it was. We walked along the cliff looking for climbable rock and in the process I saw a lot of Lost City for the first time. The cliff goes on for a while; it is bigger than I realized. We looked at the Wishbone roof (5.10 and soaking wet) and the famous Persistent (5.11+ and also quite wet). Maryana showed me the Lost City Crack (5.10). This is supposed to be one of the easier 5.10 climbs at Lost City, and it follows a vertical crack so the pro is good. It looks fantastic. Unfortunately it too was soaked.

(Photo:  Starting up Texas Flake (5.10+) in January 2012.)

Eventually we found that the only climbs that were dry enough to attempt were the ones we'd done before. The driest climb we found was the Texas Flake, so we did it first. This is a good 5.10, with nice moves throughout and a one-move reachy crux. We did it on top rope, like last time, but when I climbed it this time I tried to pay attention to whether there would be enough pro for me to come back and lead it some day.

This time I got through the first crux, a hardish 5.9 move, with no problems. But I couldn't immediately work out exactly how I'd solved the upper 5.10 crux the last time around and ultimately I took a hang. Then I figured out how to set my feet so I could make the reach, getting it on the second try. (Maryana got through the whole thing without a fall, I think, but she approached the crux in a way I thought must be much harder, using a terrible intermediate hold.) Now that I have the beta I feel sure I could send it on lead. The pro looks good to me. Placements seem available all along the flake down low, and it appears there are good slots protecting each of the crux moves. My only worry is that it might be a little run out during the easier climbing above the second crux.

(Photo:  Further up Texas Flake.)

After Texas Flake we went over to Gold Streaks. Now this is a pitch that I think I will never lead. The initial overhang problem is well-protected, but the steep face above appears to me to have very few protection opportunities. It is super-steep and unrelenting for a long long way, a real endurance test with good holds but some big moves.

It is a great top rope problem, made harder for Maryana and me by the one spot of wetness: a puddle of water right where we needed to slap our hands to escape the overhang. We both slipped off of this crucial shelf a few times, but eventually we were able to stick the grab despite the wetness.

(Photo:  Maryana starting up Gold Streaks (5.11-) back in January.)

I felt good about Gold Streaks because I ended up sending it bottom-to-top twice, doing it once via the left-hand start and once coming in from the right (much harder in my opinion-- Maryana and I each solved it in different ways, although she showed me a dropped knee trick that became a key part of my solution).

I enjoyed working Gold Streaks so much, it made me question my habit of coming to the Gunks and climbing new trad climbs all the time. I could see how people get really strong by working out on these hard top rope climbs. It still isn't my first choice, but I should maybe do it a little more often. It is fun.

(Photo:  About to climb through the first crux on Gold Streaks.)

By the time we finished with Gold Streaks the sun had come out, and the cliff was drying out to some degree. We took a look around and saw that a route across The Corridor from the Texas Flake called Forbidden Zone (5.11) appeared to be dry enough to climb.

This one was new for me so I was psyched to check it out. Maryana started working it first and struggled with the first crux, a super-steep bit through a bulge with big reaches. You might recall that Maryana is still coming off of a bicycle accident that broke some bones in her back, forcing her to take off more than a month from climbing. I couldn't believe how well she was climbing given all the time off.  Watching her sail up Texas Flake and figuring out Gold Streaks, I was amazed. So when she struggled with Forbidden Zone, I thought there was no way I was going to get up it.

But I surprised myself by getting through the bulge on my first try, helped no doubt by watching Maryana figure out most of the moves. There is a great rest stance after the bulge, and then another fun crux up a corner to the finishing jugs. I blew the sequence in the second crux, falling a few times. I couldn't find the hidden holds in the corner. Once I finally saw them, I figured it out.

After Maryana took another crack at Forbidden Zone, I went for the top rope send and got it! What a great pitch. Steep, sustained, with many great moves through the bulge, and then the devious corner awaits. I don't know about leading it. I didn't really suss out the pro, as the climbing is well above my leading level, for sure. And while the feeling of working it all out on top rope didn't match the thrill of, say, on-sighting CCK Direct on lead, it was still a fun climb and a really fun day.

I know I will be back.