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.