Finding Inspiration at Poke-O Moonshine

(Photo: That's me on C-Tips (5.10c).)

I've been searching all year for my next big thing.

In 2015, my goal was simple. I wanted to attack every 5.10 climb in the Gunks that I'd ever been afraid to try. The choices were obvious, and they fell like dominoes over the course of the year. For me it was a dream season, including many ultra-classics, and I tacked on my first trad 5.11's to boot.

This year it hasn't been quite as easy to figure out "the way." There are still plenty of legendary targets left for me in the Gunks, of course, in the 5.10-5.11 range and beyond. I've continued to go after them, and I have managed a few 5.11 ticks so far this year. I knocked off Carbs and Caffeine (5.11a) back in March, and in June I got the send on a tricky face climb called Cars That Eat People (5.11a) out at Lost City.

But I don't want 2016 to be the year in which all I did was to climb the easiest 5.11's in the Gunks (as awesome as that is). I want to improve, to become a climber with broader range. And to do that I know I need to get out of the Trapps and the Nears and climb at other crags.

To that end, I've been trying to get around. I've climbed more at Lost City (it really is different!) and committed to doing more sport climbing. And recently I've made a concerted effort to climb in the Adirondacks.

One day in June I was to meet up with my longtime partner Adrian, who has been living in Montreal. He's made the long trip from Canada to the Gunks to meet me on many occasions, and once in a while I try to return the favor by heading north from Brooklyn to meet him on turf which is closer to him. The issue for me is that I can seldom take two days in a row, so for me to go the Dacks, even on a weekend, involves an "alpine start" very early in the morning and then a long drive home at night. If I get up early enough I can get in a reasonably full day of climbing, along with the nine or ten hours of driving.

When I was planning to meet with Adrian in June, the summer heat provided enough motivation for me to make the long drive. It is always at least a little bit cooler up in the Dacks. So Adrian and I planned to meet at Poke-O Moonshine, the big cliff which sits just off of the Northway at exit 33.

We'd both been there on several occasions, both separately and together, and we'd done a lot of the easier classics, like the FM (5.7+), Gamesmanship (5.8+), Bloody Mary (5.9+) and Fastest Gun (5.10a). I've enjoyed all of the climbing I've done at Poke-O. The routes tend to follow vertical crack systems but seldom involve pure crack climbing. The terrain is often steep, but slightly less than vertical, with technical, slabby moves and seemingly blank sections requiring commitment and creativity. The difficulties tend to be continuous and sustained. Especially on the multi-pitch routes, the climbs have an adventurous feel, with route-finding challenges and loose sections requiring a heads-up mentality.

Fastest Gun in particular really opened my eyes as to what the harder climbing at Poke-O is like. And I loved it. I also found it very challenging and I wanted to get better at it. I always felt sandbagged at Poke-O-- everything seemed hard. I thought that if I could learn the ways of the granite at Poke-O, I would feel more confident on my toes at other granite areas like Cathedral Ledges, Cannon Cliff, or Yosemite. 

On our hot day in June, I hoped to find other multi-pitch tens like Fastest Gun on which Adrian and I could struggle and find some adventure. We settled on Mayflower, a three pitch route that looked doable. The first pitch-- the hardest one, at 5.10c-- is entirely bolt-protected and we found it to be in the shade. How bad could it be? The second and third pitches were both 5.10 as well, but a little bit easier. I figured we'd be fine.

We got our butts kicked.

(Photo: Adrian confronting the blank, clean streak that is the first pitch of Mayflower (5.10c).)

Adrian tried leading pitch one and found the climbing extremely thin and tenuous, up a lonely clean streak on this dark, dirty wall. He worked his way up to the third or fourth bolt, but after several falls, he decided to take a break and offered me the lead, pronouncing this thing way harder than 5.10.

Upon taking over I sketched my way up to his high point with the security of the rope above me, and then proceeded to fall repeatedly where Adrian had given in. Finally I worked out a sequence and was able to lead up to the top of the pitch. This pitch is hard!

(Photo: I'm coming up pitch two (5.10a) of Mayflower.)

Our first pitch had taken a long time, and we still had two to go. Adrian resumed leading on the 5.10a pitch two and he got it cleanly. Following the pitch, I enjoyed the interesting face moves on clean rock. 

Now it was my turn to lead pitch three, which features an airy, hanging dihedral. This pitch, rated 5.10b, isn't the hardest one on the climb but the guidebook suggests it is the money pitch.

I was nervous and struggled in the early going, moving up and right off of the belay towards the open book looming above. After taking a hang I figured out how to get into the dihedral, and once I clipped a bolt on the left wall I breathed a sigh of relief.

(Photo: Heading up pitch three (5.10b) of Mayflower.)

But my stress was actually just beginning. I found as I moved above the bolt that the (dusty) rock at the back of the open book was crumbly. I managed to place a nut but I didn't have a lot of faith that it would hold if I tested it. As I continued to make the delicate moves up the open book, with plenty of air beneath my feet, the lone bolt started to feel very far away. By the time I got to the top I was well into do-not-fall territory.

I was psyched to reach the anchor. I was exhausted, but happy. This was a quality route in which (typical for Poke-O) the interesting challenges just kept on coming, one after another.

(Photo: Adrian emerging from the rope-eating Mayflower dihedral at the top of pitch three.)

I thought we'd finished with Mayflower but it wasn't finished with us. We rapped off of the route with my double ropes tied together. When we got down we found that the ropes were hopelessly stuck. Luckily we reached the ground in a single rap, so we weren't trapped on the wall.

We tried every which way to free the ropes but nothing worked. The struggle went on and on. At some point I looked at my watch and realized we'd spent our whole day on this one route. I had four or five hours of driving ahead of me and here we were, still dicking around with my ropes stuck on the cliff.

Adrian had a spare rope back in his car. We could go get it, and climb back up to free the ropes. Or we could ascend the stuck ropes with prussiks. Neither option seemed terribly appealing to me.

Eventually we left the ropes behind. I'm not proud of this decision. We didn't clean up our own mess. At the time, I was tired and I couldn't bring myself to make the effort to get the ropes down. I was willing to write them off. The ropes were in pretty good condition but they were at least nine years old. I was considering retiring them anyway. And Adrian thought he might be able to come back and get them the following weekend, though he didn't end up making it.

After a week or two a climber from Montreal retrieved the ropes and returned them to us. So the story has a happy ending. I got my ropes back and the good samaritan got some beer out of the bargain. But the ropes were hanging there for a while and they got quite bleached in the sun. They are definitely retired now!

Our misadventure on Mayflower made me hungry for more climbing at Poke-O. I felt like we'd been spanked, and I knew we could do better. I resolved to go back, but the opportunity didn't come for me until after Labor Day. I made the trek up there on a Sunday in early September, and liked the climbing we did so much that I took a day off from work and made the drive again on the following Thursday.

During these two September days I tried to figure out how to better climb these Poke-O tens. I made some progress. As always, for me I think the biggest challenge is psychological. I've found out out that I can do every move on these climbs, but I need to feel secure in the knowledge that my toes will stick or I fail in lots of ways: I rush, I over-grip, I refuse to commit.

(Photo: That's me in the early going on Cooney-Norton face (5.10b).)

I got things off to an inauspicious start with the Cooney-Norton Face (5.10b). This route has great climbing all the way, with cool moves up a shallow stem box followed by thin face climbing past two bolts. I felt insecure on my feet as a leader on this pitch, pressing the stems way too hard and clutching madly at whatever holds I could find. I wore myself out and, after hanging, offered Adrian the lead. He then led up through my gear and finished it.

Trying the route again on top rope, I thought it wasn't exactly easy but it was all there and it went fine. On TR I could easily stand in the stems, releasing both hands. If I'd relaxed like this on lead I would have been okay, I think. As I moved up on TR I found out that I'd given up on the lead one move from a jug and a good rest, which was infuriating. I will go back and send this route. It shouldn't even be a big deal.

(Photo: Adrian on Macho (5.11a).)

Adrian and I threw a top rope over Macho (5.11a) and while neither of us sent this one, either, I felt like this was where I finally started to find my way on Poke-O face climbing. I loved the moves on this pitch, and by the time we were done I started thinking this was a Poke-O 5.11 I could come back and send on the lead, though I might like to figure out my placements on top rope first. The positions are balancy and above the initial bolts the gear might be a real challenge to place.

(Photo: I'm stemming it out at the crux of pitch one (5.10a) of the Snatch.)

On our second September day we tried another ten called the Snatch (5.10b). This route ascends a left-facing corner for two pitches. It gets four stars in the guidebook but I wasn't expecting much, since I couldn't recall ever hearing anything about it.

It turned out to be an awesome route. Both pitches are really good. I led pitch one (5.10a), which wanders up a blocky face to the main corner system, and then ascends the super-cool technical stem corner until a ledge with an anchor appears on the left. I was happy to get the send, for once, as I led up the challenging corner to the belay without incident. Things were looking up.

(Photo: Adrian at the crux of pitch two (5.10b) of the Snatch.)

Adrian (who, it should be noted, was allegedly fighting a cold) started up the 5.10b pitch two, and got into the weeds pretty fast as he confronted the overhanging jam-crack crux on the right wall of the corner. After a couple of hangs he got through this section but then the difficulties continued with more thin moves up the corner. At one tough move Adrian decided he'd had enough and we did another hand-off of the lead. I lowered him back to the belay. Taking over, I too had to hang in the crux jam crack but then sent it the rest of the way. I felt okay about it. Like pitch one of Mayflower I thought this pitch was pretty darn tough for its grade.

(Photo: I'm doing some of the hardest bits on C-Tips (5.10c).)

We also took on C-Tips (5.10c), a bolt-protected line up a bulging, black face. From below it appears to be utterly blank. I took the lead again. I told myself to think of this as a 5.11 sport climb. No big deal. There are bolts!

But I was still a bit nervous after I clipped the second bolt. The third bolt seemed very far away, the slab beneath me was very close, and the next holds were so, so small. I was afraid I would hit the slab if I fell, so I called out "take" and took a hang.

Immediately I kicked myself for giving up. I resolved to go for it. And then everything went fine. This climb is full of beautiful sequences. After the hardest moves, around the third and fourth bolts, the angle of the wall kicks back a little and the climbing becomes a bit easier. I marvel at the vision of the first ascensionists, who saw a route here on this featureless face.

(Photo: Adrian leading Group Therapy (5.9).

Late in the afternoon of our weekday at Poke-O, Adrian and I decided to dial it back a little and do something more casual. We ended up picking out a link-up of the first pitch of Group Therapy (5.9) and the second pitch of Discord (5.8). It doesn't appear that these climbs get done all that often despite a recommendation in the guidebook and their convenient location right where the approach trail meets the cliff.

Neither of these pitches is fantastic but both are quite worthwhile. Adrian led Group Therapy, a route with some face moves over bulges which lead to a slab finish. The rock is good and all of the harder bits are well protected by bolts or solid gear placements. 

I took the lead for pitch two of Discord, and this pitch provided some full value Poke-O adventure. The crux came right away, after I stepped to the right from the belay and had to commit to pulling over a low roof and into a right-facing corner system.

(Photo: That's me fooling around past the initial roof on pitch two of Discord (5.8).)

Once I grunted my way past the (dirty, crumbling) overhang, I had to confront twenty feet of corner climbing with an off-width crack at the back. I'd just placed my largest cam beneath my feet, to protect the initial crux, and it looked like I'd have no gear big enough to place anything again until I reached the top of this corner. 

Luckily the climbing was pretty secure and easy. Cramming my foot and leg in the crack, I made sure there was no way I could fall out and inched my way up to the top of the corner, where I was relieved to find solid gear. Then a fun traverse under another roof and a final layback corner led to the belay.

(Photo: Adrian coming up the final bits of pitch two of Discord (5.8).)

Adrian got to the top of Discord and announced "that pitch was crazy!" I certainly thought it provided a bit of everything: route finding, questionable rock, fun moves, technical problems, spice....

In the end I think Group Therapy/Discord is a fun 5.9 linkup-- for the 5.10 leader.

The three days I've spent at Poke-O this year have been a challenge for me, and I've really enjoyed getting schooled on the routes at this big cliff. I've still only experienced a fraction of what the place has to offer and even as I sit here typing I'm racking my brain trying to figure out when I'll get another chance to go back.

By the end of the third day I started to feel like I was really getting the hang of the climbing there, which surely means I'm ready to have my butt kicked by another Poke-O multi-pitch route.

I can't wait.

Cracking Under Pressure at The Spider's Web & Indian Creek

(Photo: Indian Creek.)

I recently spent four days in the crack-climbing capital of the world: Indian Creek, Utah.

The trip was in the works for a while. My longtime partner Adrian went to the Creek last October with some of his Squamish buddies. This year, a similar crew planned to reunite for another visit.

With the exception of Adrian, I hadn't met any of the participants before, but I felt like I knew some of them already from the many times I'd heard Adrian speak about them.

There was Lee, one of Adrian's longtime Vancouver partners. He is super fit and very experienced. He seems to manage balancing his home life and climbing life in a way that I envy-- he has five children yet still manages to get out for a ton of climbing days. I'd like to pick his brain about how he does it, though with my kids verging on high school I guess I'm nearing the end of my own tour through the child-rearing years.

Also in attendance was Patrick, another veteran of the Vancouver scene, who came with his wife Diane. They too are fitness buffs-- they are active hikers and triathletes/Tough Mudder participant types. Diane doesn't climb but she and Patrick are always traveling the country together in their camper. They have mastered the art of living on the road to such an extent that Diane can whip up a gourmet meal for a large party out of the camper, night after night, without breaking a sweat. They have all the modern conveniences: folding chairs, a portable campfire unit, a carpet on which to gather... Pat and Diane really make a campsite feel like home.

All of the people I've mentioned so far (including Adrian and me) are, you might say, "of a certain age." We've all made the long journey 'round the sun a few times. But there were a couple of younger folks along for the ride as well. There was Adi, a regular whippersnapper-- I'm guessing he's probably in his thirties. He too lives in Vancouver. He recently took some time off from work to devote himself solely to climbing. Over the last several months he's gotten really strong.

And last but not least was Chelsey, a young climber from Montreal, who has only been climbing for a couple of years but you'd never know it. She's so much better than I was after a couple of years. Not that I'm any kind of barometer. My climbing career is evidence that rank mediocrity can be extended over an endless span of time.

The gang planned to be in Utah for a whole week, but I didn't have that kind of time to spare. I was flying out to join them in the middle of their trip. I'd have about three and a half days with which to climb before making the long drive back to Salt Lake City for my overnight flight back east.

It seemed like plenty of time with which to get thrashed on the Creek's steep hand cracks.

In the months leading up to the trip I tried to prepare. I really did.

I knew from my isolated past attempts at crack climbing that I have no natural talent for it.

I am not being modest. I am just keeping it real. Whether at Cannon Cliff in New Hampshire, in the Adirondacks, at Squamish, or in Yosemite, I've made occasional, halting attempts to climb hand cracks, and over the years I've made little progress. Whenever I have had the opportunity to climb a hand crack, I've found the climbing to be insecure. I've had a hard time getting good jams. I've ended up hanging and backing off a lot. Whatever improvement I make during one trip seems to evaporate before the next one. It isn't like riding a bike for me. I'm always starting over from zero.

This year I wanted it to be different. I hoped to get something meaningful out of Indian Creek. I had to finally learn how to do this thing.

I bought the recent book, The Crack Climber's Technique Manual, by Kent Pease. It is an extremely thorough treatise. I read it from cover to cover, and then reread several chapters multiple times, trying to absorb the information.

Book learnin' was all well and good, but for the lessons to make a meaningful difference I needed to practice on some actual cracks.

Unfortunately, there aren't any outdoor crack climbs around NYC. I would have to do most of my practicing indoors, at the Cliffs at Long Island City. This gym has three crack climbs. I spent months working at them, eventually getting pretty good at the two easier ones. I would devote part of every gym session to these cracks, altering my hand positions so as to work on them in multiple ways.

My gym practice was better than nothing, but I knew it couldn't prepare me for the stresses of managing a lead on real rock. Before heading to Indian Creek I needed to make a trip to the Adirondacks or New Hampshire to get mileage on some real crack climbs.

But I couldn't seem to find the time.

My big chance finally came on Columbus Day weekend. I went up to Keene Valley, in the Adirondacks, with my wife and kids. We did a little hiking and I got to do a little climbing. Adrian came down from Montreal to meet me at the Spider's Web, a wall full of overhanging vertical crack climbs.

(Photo: Adrian warming us up on Slim Pickins (5.9+).)

We had a nice, leisurely day at the Web. We only did four pitches. I sent Adrian up the technical corner of Slim Pickins (5.9+) to start us off. After that we did three 5.10a crack climbs: Esthesia (which I had followed once before), TR, and On the Loose. Adrian and I both were interested in leading all of them, so that's what we did.

(Photo: I'm leading Esthesia (5.10a).)

Esthesia went well. I was happy to lead it clean. But it doesn't require any jamming-- both cruxes can be done as laybacks. Adrian, crack climber that he is, chose to jam through the upper crux crack, making me wish I'd at least tried to do the same, for practice.

TR also went pretty smoothly for both of us. But again I didn't feel like this was a real test of jamming skill. I used the occasional hand jam to rest and place gear, but there wasn't much pure hand jamming on the route. There were lots of finger locks and jugs.

(Photo: Adrian on TR (5.10a).)

The moves on TR are pretty straightforward, but (like most of the climbs at the Web) it is steep! I found it striking that the guidebook describes this pitch as the "warm-up" climb on the wall. Pumpy and sustained, it did not seem like a warm-up to me. I was happy to on-sight it.

Finally we hit On the Loose, which turned out to be the only climb of the day that required hand jamming most of the time. Adrian was in his element and led it comfortably, proclaiming it easier than TR.

For me, it was harder. I got good jams but it took a conscious effort to commit to moving up on them. I felt insecure. After a few steep moves I had to take a hang. It got better from there and my confidence seemed to improve as I got higher.

(Photo: That's me on On the Loose (5.10a).)

I wasn't sure what this all meant for my upcoming trip to Indian Creek. I would find out in a few days.

As the trip approached I paid little attention to weather forecast. I assumed that since we were traveling to the desert, in the high season, we would be looking at favorable temperatures and clear skies.

These assumptions turned out to be ill-founded. Shortly before I left NYC I found out from the guys that it had been raining on and off during the first few days of their trip! On the day I arrived in Utah it was similarly spotty. I reached the campground in the evening, got set up in my tent, and then I lay awake for hours, listening to the rain come down.

Luckily this was a last gasp of the bad weather. We ended up canceling the next day's climbing so the cliffs could dry out and went to Moab to hang out instead.

Though I lost one day, we eventually got plenty of climbing in. And the weather cooperated for the rest of the trip.

I didn't have any specific goals in mind. I had decided long before I got to Utah that this trip was going to be a learning experience for me. Also I knew that the other guys had already been there for a while. I didn't want to get my heart set on a particular climb and then have to fight to go do it because everyone else had already done it earlier in the same week. It seemed better to just go with the flow and do whatever everyone else wanted to do.

Adrian was shocked at my lack of direction. For some strange reason he was expecting me to show up with an ambitious tick list. I don't know why he would expect something like that from me.

Since I didn't have any concrete demands, Adrian proposed that I should start out by leading The Incredible Hand Crack (5.10), the most popular route at Indian Creek, which is at Supercrack Buttress, the Creek's most popular cliff. Several members of our crew had routes there that they wanted to red-point, so they were amenable to heading there for the day. For me this was a dream come true. I of course wanted to go there but I didn't want to make everyone else return to this cliff if they were already sick of it.

When we arrived and marched up to the Supercrack Buttress I was pretty impressed. The cliffs at the Creek don't appear to be all that tall from the road. But when you stand directly beneath the walls they seem to soar upwards forever into the sky. And while most of the climbs are just one pitch they are long, steep, and unrelenting. The cracks just go on and on.

Looking up at Incredible Hand Crack put a knot in my stomach. The early bits looked easy, with two short sections of vertical crack broken up by good ledges. But then the crux climbing loomed above: a lengthy section of steeply overhanging hand crack in a corner.

(Photo: Getting some beta on The Incredible Hand Crack (5.10).)

It did not go well. I got over the bouldery first move and put my mitts in the crack. Nervously I threw in two pieces of gear before I reached the first shelf. I was making the moves but with every step I had to will myself to continue, to move up. Shakily I made it to the stance before the crux section. But then I couldn't get through the overhang. I kept failing at getting both hands locked in the crack. I took at least a half a dozen falls and then finally gave up and handed the lead over to Adrian.

(Photo: That's me attempting The Incredible Hand Crack (5.10).)

After Adrian led up through my gear and finished it, I tried it again on top rope. It still took some figuring out but after a fall or two I worked out how to get established in the overhanging crack and I made it to the anchor.

I wasn't too disappointed. I came here to learn, right? At least I went for it. For the rest of the day I followed other people up some of the best 5.10 cracks at Indian Creek. I found out that when I didn't have to worry about leading, I wasn't quite so terrible at crack climbing. My months of practice paid off-- to some extent.

(Photo: Lee leading Supercrack (5.10).)

I watched Adi and Lee both lead Supercrack, a steep splitter crack that passes a small roof and then goes on for miles. Watching both of them send it, I could understand the endurance that was required to lead the route. When my turn came I was thrilled just to do it cleanly on top rope. It turned out I felt pretty comfortable jamming when the crack was in the range of Number 2 and 3 Camalots.

(Photo: Adi leading No Name Crack (5.10).)

I was able to successfully follow two more beautiful 5.10 hand cracks at the Supercrack Buttress, one of them known as the No Name Crack and the other one called 3 AM Crack. These were rather similar to each other, both of them being right facing corner cracks. Each route had its own unique challenges, such as a small overhang or a thin or wide section. On top rope I found I could manage these challenges. I'm sure if I'd been leading them it would have been a different story.

(Photo: That's me leading Three Pigs in a Slot (5.10), with Adrian belaying.)

By the end of the day I'd made enough progress that I thought maybe I could try to lead The Incredible Hand Crack again. But it was occupied. So instead I tried to lead another 5.10 called Three Pigs in a Slot. This climb is short (45 feet) and features a wider vertical crack than the ones I'd been doing all day. I hadn't done any cracks of this size but the group provided me with a whole bunch of Number 4 Camalots so there was no reason not to go for it.

It didn't go as badly as my first lead but it was still a struggle. I just felt insecure, for no reason that I could articulate. The climb was very safe and I could pause anywhere I wanted. I could shove my leg into the crack at will. It should have felt easy. But I had to force myself to commit, even when I had a big fat Number 4 Camalot over my head. It was slow going, and tense.

The next day we all went to the Reservoir Wall. I attempted another 5.10 lead; it was just another great crack in a corner. Indian Creek has so many of these that people don't even bother giving them names half the time. This crack took Number 3 Camalots the whole way up and therefore should have been in my comfort zone. And I suppose it was. For the most part I did fine, except at one point right in the middle where the insecurity came randomly over me again and I stopped to take a hang.

(Photo: I'm leading another 5.10 corner, again with Adrian belaying.)

I watched Adrian lead a somewhat atypical (for the Creek) 5.10 climb called Dr. Karl. This climb mostly featured finger cracks, with the feet spanning two opposing flakes. It reminded me a bit of Bloody Mary at Poke-O. Adrian did a good job on it. I elected just to follow it but later kicked myself for not leading it too. It was my kind of climbing and felt pretty straightforward to me.

(Photo: View out from the Reservoir Wall to Bridger Jack (the jagged wall on the left) and the two Six Shooter towers in the distance at the horizon.)

The highlight of the day was Pente (5.11-), which Adi did a great job of leading. The climb ascends 160 feet in a single pitch. The meat of the route involves thin hand jamming (Number 1 Camalots) up a steep headwall. Then in the second half the angle eases but the crack narrows to the horrible .75 size. This pitch just goes and goes. Adi brought more cams than the guidebook recommended but towards the end he still ran out of gear. We had to send more cams up to him using the tag line. It was an epic effort.

(Photo: Adi leading Pente (5.11-).)

No one else in the group ended up leading it but Adrian looked almost casual as he strolled up the climb on top rope. It seemed like he could easily lead it. I was wholly unfamiliar with this crack size and I really struggled just to get started in the crack, falling out of it several times. Once I finally got in it, though, I was able to get a rhythm going and was pretty successful the rest of the way. For me to lead this route would take a lot of work, I think.

I was amazed to watch Chelsey follow Pente easily, without a single moment of uncertainty. I'd heard that before I arrived she'd been following every climb in the Creek without much trouble, and she was even experimenting with some leading. This was her first trip to the Creek, and her first time crack climbing. She only recently started leading trad. Watching her I was very impressed. And jealous! She is clearly one of those lucky people for whom crack climbing comes naturally. I was exhausted by Pente but for her it wasn't a big deal.

After just two full days in the Creek I was feeling worn down by the effort involved in climbing these long, steep cracks. I had so many scrapes on my arms and legs I resembled a leper. We were all driving out by the early afternoon the next day so there wouldn't be time for more than a few pitches anyway. I didn't mind.

We went to Donnelly Canyon, which is another very popular wall. It shares a parking area with the Supercrack Buttress. A highlight of this wall is the popular Generic Crack (5.10). This is a straight-in splitter with a few challenging wide pods. Lee and Adi both wanted to red-point it before they left for home.

Before I came to Indian Creek I had thought that maybe I'd lead Generic Crack but on our final day I was content to follow it. I hoped to do it clean but I struggled to get into the first wide pod. Once I worked that out the rest of it went well.

(Photo: Chelsey leading Chocolate Corner (5.9) on our last day.)

I didn't come to Indian Creek expecting to rip it up. Instead I wanted to get some experience on splitter cracks and to progress a bit in my crack climbing. The trip definitely provided the training I was hoping for, so from that perspective it was an unqualified success. And I got to experience some of the most legendary climbs in the world, all in an amazing desert setting. Plus I got to meet a whole bunch of wonderful people. So it was a great little vacation and I had a very enjoyable time there.

I did, in the back of my mind, have a hope that after a day or two of pumping cracks something would "click" and I'd suddenly feel as comfortable leading sandstone cracks as I do leading climbs on Gunks conglomerate. This obviously didn't happen, so I left feeling a little bit frustrated. I tried to remind myself that crack climbing really is a distinct discipline from the type of climbing I'm used to. I need more mileage, and then the progress will come.

It's as if you are an experienced trumpet player. You've been doing it for years and you've forgotten what it was like when you weren't good at it. And then one day you decide to play around with a trombone. You ask yourself "How different can it be?" But then you try it and your embouchure is all wrong and you have to figure out how to work the slide; as a result the sounds you produce are closer to noise than to music. And you can't fix it right away. You've forgotten how long you worked at the trumpet to get proficient at it, and back then you didn't mind how bad you sounded. Starting over on the trombone is like torture, because now you know better. You know how it should sound, and you know what you can do. But you can't execute yet in this new medium.

That's what crack climbing is like for me. I'm a trumpet player who is trying to pick up the trombone. Or worse: the oboe. I wish it came more easily to me.

I think I made some incremental moves forward in the Creek. My third 5.10 lead was much better than my first. I hope the experience will translate to other climbing areas, and that when I travel to the Adirondacks or New Hampshire I will be more comfortable than before on the vertical cracks there.

And some day I'll go back to the Creek. I will return and I will try again.

Chapel Pond Blahs

(Photo: Climber on Drop, Fly or Die (5.11a).)

I knew it would be wet.

It had been a rainy week, with heavy thunderstorms on Friday, continuing into the evening. I almost called the whole thing off.

But it was supposed to be a beautiful day on Saturday in the Adirondacks and I really wanted to go. Maybe in the afternoon Chapel Pond Slab would be dry? Maybe we'd find some dry lines between the streaks of wetness on some south-facing cliffs in the morning?

I missed climbing in the Adirondacks. I wanted to work on my crack and slab skills. I had dreams, my friends. Dreams bigger than any thunderstorm.

And the Dacks was very convenient for my partner Adrian, who was driving down from Montreal. He'd made the five hour trip from Montreal to the Gunks twice recently. It was only fair to give him a break this time around. I could make the long drive from NYC up to the Keene Valley area.

Unfortunately, I only had Saturday available. My daughter and I both had a piano recital on Sunday so I had to be back. This meant nine hours of driving just on Saturday, and my wife Robin wasn't exactly thrilled about it. It seemed a little bit insane to her. (Just between you and me, I think she worries too much.)

"If it's going to be wet, why don't you just go to the Gunks?" she said. "The rock there dries really fast, that's what you always say."

She was right, but she didn't understand. I needed some Dacks action.

I'll cut to the chase: it turned out to be a shitty day for us on Saturday. We should have gone to the Gunks. The irony was that the weather in the Keene Valley area was absolutely gorgeous. But there had been far too much rain earlier during the week.

I got up at 5:00 a.m. and drove out of Brooklyn. The roads were wet but the sky was clear the whole way up.

As I drove in to the Chapel Pond area I was amazed. Not only was the Chapel Pond Slab soaking wet-- which was to be expected-- it was worse than wet. It had a running waterfall right down the middle. Mostly, it seemed, on the route Empress (5.5. X) but also on parts of the Regular Route (5.5), which I had hoped maybe we could do.

In truth, I knew before I drove up that the Slab wouldn't work out. This was no big deal. We could check out some other options. We walked in to the Beer Walls. These cliffs are low and tucked in the woods, so I had no illusions that they'd be much drier than the Chapel Pond Slab. I thought maybe, just maybe, there'd be some dry sections. But no such luck, the entire Upper and Lower walls were absolutely soaked, not just wet but actively running with water in most places.

We walked back out. The Spider's Web looked pretty dry from the road. So we negotiated the talus field all the way up there to find that it wasn't really very dry. It was okay on some parts of the upper portions of the wall but mostly wet on the bottom. All the climbs I'd previously done there were wet, and all the tens I'd hoped to try were also wet.  There was a party there starting one of the 5.11's (Drop, Fly or Die) which was dry except for the very bottom. But I would need good conditions to be brave enough to lead the tens. There was no way I was hopping on a 5.11.

Having struck out three times, we decided to walk over to some of the Lower Washbowl cliffs. These cliffs are not very popular due to the steep, thickly wooded approaches and chossy rock. But you can get there from the Spider's Web without going all the way down to the road, so we decided to try to cross over to a wall called Lost Arrow Face which wasn't too far away. 

After a filthy, slippery bushwhack we found the wall and it actually seemed to have some dry routes. We found two women from Montreal climbing there.

It was, by this time, after noon and we hadn't climbed anything. We'd been trooping around looking for dry rock for more than two hours. It was about time to do some climbing! We did Excalibur (5.8) after the ladies told us it was dry enough. This is kind of dirty but it is an interesting route up the left side of a pillar which forms a corner, with some really tricky climbing in the corner. Both Adrian and I thought it was harder than 5.8. Maybe we did it wrong?

(Photo: Adrian heading into the tricky bit on Excalibur (5.8).)

Next I started to lead the 5.9 on the wall (Virgin Sturgeon), which the guidebook authors highly recommend. But I got kind of spooked because I couldn't see the bolt above on a blank face and the route ends at some corners that can't be seen from the base of the cliff. I kept worrying the corners at the top would be soaking wet. I aborted and headed over to check out Sergeant Pepper (5.8), which goes up another big corner to the left. But when I got beneath the corner I could see it was very dirty/licheny and the roof exit at the top was dripping water down on me. Yuck. No thanks.

So then I moved left again and did Chunga's Revenge (5.6+). The two women had done Chunga's while Adrian and I did Excalibur and both of them had sent down some sizable rocks as they climbed! So I tried to be careful. This route has a really interesting move left across an orange face to a tree and a ledge with an optional belay. The holds are there but it is a committing step over. And then it goes up a corner to a roof.

(That's me heading up to the crux move on Chunga's Revenge (5.6+).)

In retrospect, I realize that most people end this climb at the optional belay. But I did not. The corner above was full of junky rock and loose flakes. I passed up many opportunities for gear in the bad rock. The roof too had some loose crap and when I got over it and reached the top I built a belay in a crack because the belay tree (which had ancient crusty slings on it) did not appear to me to be stable. I could see it totally falling down if it were weighted. The rock it is attached to up there is all chossy and crumbly.

I brought Adrian up and he found a bolted rap station about ten feet to the right of the tree so I came over to join him. But I thought it was really bad, with just one ancient button-head bolt and a piton, connected by stiff old webbing in an American Death Triangle. Someone had added a more recent sling to the bolt. This sling was still identifiable as blue and it wasn't stiff but it was quite faded, clearly at least a few years old.

Adrian thought the bolt was fine but the whole arrangement gave me the chills. We decided to add a tricam to the anchor with one of our prussik cords and left this gear behind. We both rapped off and, thankfully, nobody died.

Then we hiked down the loose, annoying talus field to the road. I was glad to put the Lost Arrow Face behind me. What a pile.

(Photo: The Lost Arrow Face as seen from the road, with one of the Montreal women we met visible (in a white shirt) low in the center of the wall, leading Virgin Sturgeon (5.9).)

I suggested we go next to Jewels and Gem, a small wall with moderate routes one minute from the road. If it was dry, well then we could lead some routes. If not, we could top rope. We went there and almost all the leadable routes (the ones that go up cracks) were wet. We spotted a dry one, In the Rough (5.7+). This ascends an off-width crack in a corner, and then goes through a good roof problem. Adrian led it. We both enjoyed it. Hallelujah! A good, dry route. So nice. 

(Photo: Adrian on In the Rough (5.7+).)

It appeared a couple of the other routes on this wall were really good-- if only they were dry. The two 5.6 routes appeared to be great natural lines up easy cracks, but they were both dripping with runoff. The dry routes all seemed to have no gear. I thought maybe I could lead the 5.9 variant just to the left of In the Rough, so I started it... and then I backed off when it appeared there were no placements for a long stretch above the initial crack. 

We considered top roping some other climbs but I checked the time and it was already 5:30. We decided to leave. I had lost the mojo and I had a long drive ahead. 

I would definitely come back to Jewels and Gem some time when it is dry for some fun moderates. It seems like a nice little wall.

We both walked out pretty disappointed with our day. We did a lot of trudging for three mediocre pitches.

And the worst was yet to come. I'll spare you the details, but some car trouble kept us from leaving for another three hours. 

Once that was resolved and I finally got out of there I drove home in an over-caffeinated haze, wishing I'd listened to my wife and gone to the Gunks. The day was largely a waste of time and money. But you know, sometimes taking a chance really pays off and sometimes it doesn't. You gotta play to win and all that garbage.

And even if the day basically sucked we still got a little taste of some adventure. 

Don't worry, Dacks. I still love you and I'll be back. 

Crack-A-Lackin' Adirondack-in' at Poke-O: Fastest Gun (5.10a)

Manny and I had a good day at the Spider's Web on our Friday in late September. That evening we were in Lake Placid, eating sushi and drinking sake. I felt tired. I'd driven five hours the night before after working all day. I arrived late, woke up early, and then climbed some hard routes.

I was tempted to put my head down right there at the dinner table.

But first we had to pick a climbing objective for the next day.

I knew just what I wanted to do. And I thought maybe it would be perfect for Manny too.

It was his first trip to the Adirondacks. In just a few days he'd seen many of the prime areas. He'd been to the Beer Walls, Pitchoff Chimney Cliff, and Hurricane Crag with Gail. He'd visited the Spider's Web with me.

But he hadn't yet been to Poke-O Moonshine. It is a major cliff with many many classic routes.

I'd been there once before but I needed to go back, for what seemed like a million reasons. I was most drawn to one climb in particular: Fastest Gun (5.10a).

I NEEDED to do Fastest Gun. I'd been dreaming of it all year. For many years, really.

I'd heard great things about the climb from Parker and others. It is a full-length route up Poke-O's main face, ascending over 500 feet in four pitches. Each pitch is reputed to be challenging, with all but the first one rated 5.10a in the Lawyer and Hass guidebook. The first pitch isn't 5.10, but it has something far scarier. It carries the dreaded 5.9+ rating, which so often portends doom.

I told Manny to take a look at the description for Fastest Gun in the guidebook. I hoped he would read about it and get psyched. Sure enough, as soon as he read the first sentence of the entry, which describes Fastest Gun as "perhaps the most sought-after climb at Poke-O, a real prize," he became excited. "Let's do that!" He said. "We should definitely do that one."

We were in business. Now we actually had to climb it.

I volunteered to lead pitches one and three. I thought it was the nice thing to do, since I had read that pitches two and four were the best ones. It also made sense that I do the 5.9+ pitch since it seemed like Manny was a stronger climber than me. If I did the (theoretically) easier first pitch then I'd only have to lead one 5.10 pitch while Manny would lead two.

Still, while it seemed (based on the ratings alone) that I was picking the easier pitches, I had concerns. I was a little apprehensive of the off-width crack that runs up the middle of pitch one. I had no experience with off-widths. But I didn't worry too much about it since I'd seen pictures of people laybacking and stemming past the off-width. (There is one such picture in the guidebook.) So I figured I could handle it. I had bigger doubts about pitch three, which was reputed to have difficult face moves up to a bolt, with only tiny nut placements nearby for pro. I thought this pitch might be pushing it for a beginner 5.10 leader like me. Sketchy face moves above tiny gear sounded scary, but on the other hand I'm pretty good with fiddly small gear. If there were good nut placements to be found I was pretty sure I could locate them.

I knew very little about pitches two and four. It seemed from the descriptions that they involved crack climbing and roofs. Would these be more my style, or less? It was hard to tell.

Was I really ready to tackle a 5.10 lead in the Adirondacks? The last time I'd climbed at Poke-O, the 5.8's had seemed hard. But that was two years ago. In the time since then I'd grown a lot. I figured Manny was solid and if I needed to bail he could take over the lead on pitch three. I just needed to take care not to get committed in a dangerous situation.

After a good night's sleep we awoke to blue skies and crisp temperatures. It was supposed to warm up but it was only in the high thirties as we packed up our stuff at the house in Lake Placid where we were staying. We took our time, getting a leisurely start and stopping in Keene for breakfast before eventually driving over to Poke-O. By the time we reached the cliff it had warmed up so much that I changed into short sleeves as we left the car.

There were several other vehicles parked at the now-defunct Poke-O campground. I feared we'd end up waiting in line to climb Fastest Gun. But this was the low-key Adirondacks, not the overcrowded Gunks. As we walked past Gamesmanship (5.8), the most popular climb at the cliff, I was shocked to find it empty. Fastest Gun was open too. It turned out we were the only party on it all day. And this was on a gorgeous Saturday in peak season!

Gotta love the 'Dacks.

Anyway, this was it. We hadn't exactly gotten out early and we needed to get on with it. The first pitch was my lead, Adirondack 5.9++ with no warm-up. It looked tough, with committing moves up a crack right off the ground and then the off-width. Up above the off-width I could see the steep layback flake which I guessed was supposed to be the crux of the pitch. I looked at the off-width and decided to bring a No. 4 Camalot with me. Maybe I could push it up the wide crack for a few moves and then place a normal-sized piece in the layback flake above.

I had no clue how I was going to get up the off-width. It appeared to me that laying back off of it would feel very insecure, as I didn't see much in the way of footholds. I could instead go into the off-width and climb the crack directly but frankly I had no earthly idea how to do that. It was longer than I'd expected, maybe a couple of body lengths.

Not wanting to chicken out, I headed upward. I got up to the off-width in no time, and found I could place the No. 4 at the bottom of the wide crack. But it wouldn't fit any higher; the crack quickly got too wide. I started trying to figure out what I was going to do. I couldn't make myself commit to laying back off the edge; it seemed very insecure. I started testing the off-width crack, trying to scrunch my side into it. I didn't like that either. I kept trying both ways, back and forth, and not liking either option. Finally I stopped and took a hang.

I was flailing on Fastest Gun already, and we'd just left the ground. I had Manny toss me the No. 5 Camalot and steeled myself to actually try to climb this stupid thing.

Committing to the off-width, I got my right foot and arm wedged in and moved up a few feet. It actually felt fine once I did it. Progress was being made. Then I reached up and placed the No. 5 high in the crack, and now with the cam over my head and a top rope protecting me I scrunched up some more. I found out I could repeat this process. When I got to the top of the off-width, basically level with my big cam, I took another hang, just because I was scared. I'd never done this kind of climbing before.

As I rested there I realized that climbing the off-width had actually been pretty easy. It is a good size for camming one foot across and there are actually some incut holds inside the crack. Once I actually got into the crack there was no way I was going to fall out. If I ever go back I might do it this way again, although committing to the layback would likely work out fine too. If you climb it as a layback you probably don't need the big cams because you can reach a vertical crack off to the right that can take small/medium cams.

In retrospect it all seems like no big deal but at the time I was totally out of sorts. I felt fried. I started moving again. I found the layback flake above the off-width difficult to get into and took another hang before finally doing the real crux and getting up to the easy finishing blocky flakes.

Pitch one of Fastest Gun was not one of my prouder climbing moments. At least I was totally safe about it. You can get pro pretty much everywhere on this pitch. It is a very good pitch, steep and strenuous at the crux. At the time it seemed ludicrous to me that it is rated 5.9+ but looking back I think my problems were all mental. I never fell off of it. I was just extremely tentative because it was so unfamiliar. I feel now like if I went back it would be no problem. Maybe I'm dreaming.

(Photo: Manny in the (loose) finishing blocks on the 5.9+ pitch one of Fastest Gun.)

As I waited for Manny to follow me up pitch one I wondered if I really belonged on this climb. Manny certainly did. He easily followed the pitch, with no apparent difficulties.

I decided to see how I felt following Manny up pitch two. If pitch two went well I would still plan to lead pitch three.

The second pitch is steep. It follows a pair of vertical cracks upward until these cracks become the sides of a shallow chimney. Manny kept calling this chimney "the coffin," which I thought was a poor choice of words, karma-wise. The coffin/chimney, whatever you might like to call it, is capped by a ceiling.

(Photo: Manny in the early stages of the 5.10a pitch two.)

Manny did well, moving deliberately and placing lots of gear. He seemed to think the climbing was difficult but he sent the pitch on-sight.

I followed it cleanly and really enjoyed it. It is sustained. Steep crack and face moves take you to the chimney. It is hard right from the start, but it is all there. It seemed to me the crux moves come when you reach the twin cracks. It is strenuous and committing until the walls of the chimney become deep enough to allow for some chimney technique. Once you can throw a shoulder into the chimney it gets a bit easier and you can rest. I thought the final moves over the little roof were exciting but reasonable.

(Photo: Manny in the middle of pitch two.)

What an awesome pitch, with great move after great move after great move. Although I couldn't point to any one move that seemed harder than 5.10a, I was still surprised that this pitch isn't considered harder than that. (In the old guidebook Don Mellor calls it 5.9!!) Like pitch one, it seems easier to me in hindsight. There is no one move that is especially hard. It is the cumulative, continuous nature of the difficulty that makes the pitch feel like a sandbag.

(Photo: Following Manny up the final bits of pitch two.)

When I joined Manny at the belay, the moment of truth had arrived. I'd felt fine following pitch two. I knew that pitch three started with easy climbing up to a pedestal. Then there was an optional belay before the committing move into a right-facing corner described in the guidebook. I could certainly go up to that point and then bail if I felt weird about going forward. So without any discussion I took the gear and headed upward.

The moves up to the pedestal went fine. I could test some holds in the committing corner before getting out there, but I wouldn't really know what I was dealing with until I made the move. It seemed like I was heading into less-than-vertical territory with thin moves and small holds. I couldn't see the crux moves up to and past a bolt above. I spent some time fiddling in some small gear. Eventually I was satisfied that what I had was totally bomber. Then I committed to the corner. After one smeary move I found a jug. I had passed the first test, and I could now see the bolt above, not so far away. This built a little confidence.

On the Internet some people complain about the pro leading up to the bolt at the crux. I was determined to place the best gear I could. I got a good small nut, and then another. I moved up again and placed a third micronut, probably six feet below the bolt. I felt that all of these placements would hold but they were small pieces in a little vertical seam. And now I had to make the hard move to the bolt. It appeared to be a balance move, stepping up on small toe holds while making use of a shallow vertical rail for the hands.

I made the step carefully and it went fine. Better than fine, actually. It felt 5.8 to me; it was no problem. I clipped the bolt and knew I was one hard move away from a total sendage moment.

I didn't want to blow it now. I felt very safe with the bolt clipped but I wanted the on-sight, badly. I tried to diagnose the move. There were slippery, small handholds. I could place the right toe on a good indentation, then smear with the left...

I tried it and it worked. In just another step I had better holds. I had cleared the difficulties. All I had to do now was make it through 5.6 territory to the belay ledge. The guidebook suggests that there is scant pro to be found here but I looked carefully through the rest of the pitch and found plenty of placements. I did not feel it was terribly run out.

It was my first 5.10 lead in the Adirondacks. I felt great. I really enjoyed this pitch, and it was so different from the ones that came before it. Thin face climbing used to scare me to death but now I think it may have become one of my strengths. People complain about this pitch and find it frightening but to me it was the easiest of the four.

(Photo: Manny following the easier final bits of the 5.10a pitch three.)

Manny once again cruised up to join me. He was having no trouble so far.

Having finished my leads now I could just relax and watch Manny handle pitch four. It looked amazing and ridiculous, and again totally different from what came before. The pitch involves steep moves up a hanging, blank corner, then a traverse left under a huge roof. It is quite intimidating. This is the only pitch of the four that was rated 5.10 in the old Mellor guidebook.

(Photo: Protecting the start of the 5.10a++ pitch four.)

The very first move requires stepping up the steep slab to an undercling, with burly moves up around left into the hanging corner. It appears there are no footholds to help you get established. Manny struggled here, for the first time all day. He stepped up and slid down a few times, then decided to just get on with it and aid through the first steps.

Once he was established in the main corner he made it up just fine, but it still appeared tenuous and strenuous. About halfway to the big roof the angle eased and Manny seemed to really relax and enjoy the final bits to the top of the cliff.

I really wanted to cap off the day by following this pitch cleanly. I started a little further right than Manny and found out I could get established in the undercling better over there. This required some awkward stepping left to get around the low ceiling and into the main corner, but it was helpful to use the better feet to the right to get onto the wall before moving up.

I felt solid in the main corner. There weren't many indentations in the smooth wall for the left foot, but I found I could almost always wedge my right toe in the crack, so I never really felt that I was about to slip off. I thought the difficulty would be much increased by having to place gear, but still I felt pretty good about how this section went for me. Once the angle eased the moves remained thin but the pitch became much more relaxed and the traversing territory around the upper roof was no big deal, at least for me. Gunks experience can sometimes pay off like that. Traversing around roofs is just another day at the office for me.

This was definitely the hardest pitch of the four, but the difficulty is concentrated in the early going and the final moves to the top are a joy-- or they were for us, since the pitch was bone dry. Lawyer and Haas warn in the guidebook that the upper portion of this pitch is often wet.

(Photo: Heading down.)

Once we reached the top we moved up to the climber's right. We could see a tree with fixed gear for rapping. I was carrying a topo for this part of the cliff which showed a rappel route here. This worked out for us, more or less. I won't bore you with the details of the near-disaster I caused when passing one of the fixed rap stations, thinking our double ropes tied together would reach the next rappel station. The lesson: NEVER pass a rappel station!

Next time I would use the central rappel route, since some of the stations indicated on the topo for our rappel route apparently no longer exist.

I loved Fastest Gun. It is challenging throughout, and so varied. The rock is very good, except for the occasional loose crap you'll find all over Poke-O. The route was a milestone experience for me. I have wanted to do this climb for a very very long time, and it totally lived up to my high expectations. It also revealed areas where I've made great progress (slabby moves and thin face, working with small gear) and areas where I need much improvement (wide vertical cracks). Speed is another issue. We were lucky no one was behind us because we were definitely slow guns, taking most of the day to do four pitches.

After doing this route I want desperately to return to Poke-O. If pitches two and three of Fastest Gun are good indicators of what the face climbing at Poke-O is all about, then I think this climbing suits me very well. I'll have to find out for sure some time next year.