Guest Post: Rediscovering the Joys of Any Kind of Climbing

(Photo: Elizabeth leading Horseman (5.5) in 2010.)

Editor's Note: 

What follows is a first for Climb and Punishment: a guest post! Written by Elizabeth, and published below without interference from me. It records her experience of our time climbing together this past Sunday. You can see my own impressions of the day here. The main difference between the two versions is that my account is true, while hers is full of lies. Don't believe her!

Please enjoy. I've thrown in some photos-- new and old-- just for fun.

Did you ever read A Walk in the Woods by Bill Bryson? Do you remember when Bryson’s buddy Katz shows up to hike a portion of the Appalachian Trail with him, and Bryson comments that Katz appeared to be coming from the other side of too many pancake breakfasts? So that’s me. You may remember me from Climb and Punishment fame as the pregnant and anemic belay b*tc@ of a few summers ago. I’ve climbed in the Gunks one time since then, in the fall of 2011. I’ve been to the gym twice since then. Also in the fall of 2011, I moved to an area of PA that does not have a local climbing gym and where the outdoor climbing that’s worth anything is, well, the Gunks. A few years and two kids later I am lucky to get away for a yoga class or a quick run or bike ride from the house, so climbing has regrettably been on the back burner. Meanwhile, Seth has been devoting his spare time to climbing and has become more than a respectable Gunks climber. I am jealous. 

(Photo: Elizabeth on The Last Will Be First (5.6) in 2011.)

I hope that in an act of pity he will agree to take me climbing for the birthday/Mother’s Day present I have convinced my husband to give me. Seth is the quite the sucker and he agrees.

Seth and I met at Chelsea Piers one fall when I was in law school in the City and a recent transplant from Boulder. I was missing Climbing Town, USA, and feeling isolated from my climbing buddies but decided to get out there and sit at the wall until someone noticed this lonely, lost soul haplessly trying to boulder. Enter Seth. He walked up to me sitting on the crash mat and said, “Do you want to climb with me?” It was like that Lifesavers commercial with the two little kids. My eyes went wide. “A climbing partner?"

(Photo: Elizabeth on Grand Central (5.9) in 2011.)

Over the next few years Seth and I spent many, many Gunks and gym sessions together, so even if this one-off climbing day amounted to a misadventure, I was looking forward to catching up with my old friend. So much so that I was willing to wake up at 5 a.m. to get a good start to the day. We decided to meet at the mall in Paramus as the mid-way point in my drive and also on the way for Seth. We plan to meet at 7:15 and I’m on track to arrive early. I’m never early. Seth texts me at 7:05 to say that he’s early and lets me know where to find him. I let him know I’m a few minutes away. I’m so excited! And then I get lost in a maze of highways and on-ramps and off-ramps and it takes two full circles and 10 freakin’ minutes to figure out how to get into the mall. I was expecting to see the mall from the road, or see signs for the mall from the road, but no. Clearly I need to brush up on my Jersey driving skills.

Finally I can see Seth, and I roll down my window to yell hello. I am sitting at a red light on the access road to the mall. WTF? I don’t wait for it to turn green. I jump out of the car to greet Seth. He comments that I look just the same as always, and I tell him the same, except for looking trimmer. This will be relevant later. At 7:20 we’re rolling in Seth’s car. “New?” I say. “Two years old.” We laugh and talk about our kids and old times, and Seth points out that I clearly favor my sweet, sweet baby who is eight months old over my terrible two-and-a-half year old. We also set some expectations for the day and I confess I’m not even sure I remember how to tie a figure eight. I’m not sure if Seth is psyched that he agreed to this.

We’re approaching the cliff about 8:30, and because I ate my first breakfast in the car at 6:00, I am already starving. When Seth asks if I want to stop at the deli, I say yes. I don’t think we’ve ever not stopped at the deli. I’ve never seen the parking lot so full. We already know it’s going to be crowded at the cliff, but wow! It seems crowded. As we park by the latrine Seth says, “Oh hey, there’s Gail,” my successor as his regular climbing partner. He introduces us and I try to give Gail a hug but she kicks me in the shins. She tells us to order because it’s going to take a while to get an egg sandwich. Seth doesn’t order anything. He chats with some other folks he knows at the deli and I stand around feeling like a poser for being here. I get over it. I contemplate whether I want M&Ms or a gluten-free brownie for a treat. Seth asks if I’m “gluten-free.” “No,” I reply, “I would get it so I can make fun of it.” I’m pretty sure M&Ms are gluten-free too but they are not pretentious about it so I go with those. I finally get my sandwich and as far as I can tell it’s not even hot.

We park at the bottom of the Stairmaster and Seth hands me the rope and does some more standing around as I change shoes, pull my hair back, rearrange my pack making sure not to smoosh my lunch, and take a bite of egg sandwich. I try to continue to eat my egg sandwich on the trail to the carriage road but it’s hard to hike with a heavy pack, talk and eat at the same time, so I wrap it up halfway through and toss the rest in my pack. As the day goes on it becomes clear that after wasting 30 minutes of Seth’s time waiting for my egg sandwich he will deprive me of any opportunity to eat it.

On the carriage road Seth starts pointing out places we could start and asking me if I remember such and such, or this and that, and my answer is always no. I am ordinarily pretty good at navigating and remembering where I am but it became clear early in our climbing relationship that Seth was the guide. I placed my trust in his capable hands and never thought for myself. I don’t remember the details or even the summaries of any of the routes by name, and with the exception of the time I led the money pitch of High E, I quickly forget everything about a climb the moment after topping out. (I do, however, remember that night on Moonlight. So apropos.) He worries a little that he will push me too hard and doesn’t want me to cry like I did that one time on Birdland. He made me cry climbing Birdland? Apparently the experience was more traumatic for Seth than for me because I don’t remember crying on Birdland.

(Photo: Seth leading Birdland (5.8+) in 2011.)

Seth suggests we start on Raunchy, a fun 5.8. For some this might be considered a warm-up, but for others it might be the pinnacle of the day. I am slightly scared near the bottom, which is a bit sad because of course I am following. But after getting a few moves under my belt and generally not flailing about, I remember that I love climbing. I think Seth is impressed that I just waltzed up this route as if I hadn’t off the couch’ed it. I am definitely rusty in my route-finding, but I don’t have trouble with any of the moves. Raunchy? Check! We move on to Cakewalk. I’m glad that this does feel a bit easier and that the route is a bit more obvious. True to form, I don’t remember anything else about this climb.

(Photo: Elizabeth on Raunchy (5.8) in 2015.)

At this point I can tell Seth is getting antsy to climb something harder, but he is still asking me what I want to do. I finally suggest that we do a multi-pitch classic. Madame G’s is overrun with people as we expected, so he suggests Snooky’s instead. We will take all three pitches to the top of the cliff. Sweet. We take a detour at Balrog because Seth wants to try for the redpoint. I am concerned that I haven’t caught a fall in at least as long as I haven’t been climbing, but I should have more faith. Seth gets it clean. He mentioned the grade back on the carriage road, but I forget and as I’m putting my shoes on I tell myself that it is 5.9 so as not to get psyched out by the number. Seth then ruins my strategy by telling me that it’s a 10b. I am happy to make it past the first difficult moves below the roof, but I am sad that I have to ask what a “mail slot” is. I don’t think we referred to horizontals as mail slots four years ago? Anyway, I can’t get my hands in the mail slot and also get the gear out of the mail slot, and after five or so attempts I admit that it’s futile and Seth has to top rope the route to retrieve his gear. He actually falls this time. I think he omitted that part from his post.

(Photo: Elizabeth starting up Balrog (5.10b) in 2015.)

We find Snooky’s to be relatively available, and after a short wait chatting with acquaintances of Seth’s who are finishing the first pitch, we’re on the rock again. I’ve managed to sneak a few more bites of egg sandwich at this point, but I’m not even feeling hungry. Which is annoying because if I don’t eat all of my food before the end of the day then I didn’t need to squander that time waiting for that stupid egg sandwich. Seth has not eaten a thing in my presence so now I understand why he is so thin. As I start up on Snooky’s, my fingers are already raw and I think my toenails are already turning black. I didn’t expect anything different, really, so I don’t dwell on the pain. We cruise up pitch one to the belay station and as I hook in with my PAS, I say somewhat inadvertently, “Piece-A-Shit.” I think one of the guys in the party sharing the ledge with us chortles slightly while Seth responds, “Ah, just like old times.” I don’t know how it came about that the device perhaps most important for preventing our untimely deaths should receive such a moniker. Later when I am getting punch drunk I am laughing out loud about this again. I have no idea why this is so funny. It just is.

(Photo: Elizabeth on pitch two of Snooky's Return (5.8) in 2015.)

Snooky’s is great, I think I hang on pitch two once? Maybe not. I only remember hanging quite a few times on pitch three. And first having to get lowered back to the deck, second having to use a heel-hook to pull myself back onto the wall, getting stuck on a dead tree branch with the loop of a draw—why??—and third, finally having removed the gear and being high enough to get back on the rock, still not fit enough to make it over the roof without getting pumped on the moves approaching the roof. I am worked and so frustrated I want to cry. Suddenly I remember crying on Birdland. At the top Seth asks me what happened and scoffs ever so slightly when I say that it was really hard to get the gear out in that position with my hands so far above my head. I remind him that that is a physical move for which I currently have no endurance. I remind him that he is ever so slightly being an ass for forgetting what it was like before he was killing it. We take in the breeze and the view for a few minutes before starting our rap back down. I’m ready for a little break that hopefully involves enough time to actually eat something. Seth is already planning his next climb that will be too hard for me to even attempt.

He chooses Co Ex. Again this means nothing to me. After he’s back on the ground he starts spewing beta on the crux sequence to the guys next to us and he’s looking at me too so I nod and smile encouragement but my eyes are glazing over. I don’t speak this language anymore. Sad face. At this point I am actually the one getting antsy to get back to climbing, and am rewarded by the opportunity to climb Madame G’s! On top of the first short pitch I happily comment that it feels easy. Seth rains on my parade by—gratuitously, I might add—telling me that it’s a 5.4. He cruises up the second pitch, as he should, offering commentary about what an awesome route it is. And it is. Of course it is easy for him but I am thrashed at this point and take a few hangs at the small roof where I find the handholds a bit less juggy and a tad reachy. I take another hang or two at the slightly bigger roof near the top. The phrase “power through” seems relevant. I at least get Seth to admit that Madame G’s is steep.

(Photo: Seth at the hanging belay on Madame G's (5.6) in 2009.)

After a fun rap we are back down on the dirt and ready to walk out. In an act of pity or chivalry, Seth carries the rope along with all the gear. I think I’m fine to carry my own weight but maybe I am not. Back at the car I pull out all my remaining snacks—not substantial enough to have negated the need for that egg sandwich, thank god—and Seth joins me in eating a carrot stick. After a series of whiplash-inducing experiences due to Seth’s erratic driving, I can text my husband to say that I am still alive and heading homeward.

(Photo: Elizabeth at the belay on Madame G's (5.6) in 2009.)

The ride back to Paramus is filled with more catching up and lively conversation and I wish we had more time together. He suggests that I get out to climb more than once every three and a half years. When we reach my car he helps transfer my gear and we thank each other for the awesome day. We hug goodbye like three times, then go our separate ways. I have 90 more minutes of driving and when I get home around 10:30 and creep upstairs to take a shower, a glance into my two-year-old’s room shows a small, blue glow on his face. “I found my phone, I watching videos,” he says proudly. You have got to be kidding me. (And no, he doesn’t have his own phone.) I take the phone away and tell him to go to sleep, but a few minutes later he pulls back the shower curtain and joins me in the shower. For the first time ever I let him fall asleep in our bed, at least that is what proves to be true at 3 a.m., because I’m pretty sure I fell asleep before he did. Ah, 3 a.m. The only thing not sweet about the baby is his persistent night feeding. The 3 a.m. wake up call is unequivocally unwelcome tonight. He mercifully slept through the previous night and was my husband’s problem when he woke up 20 minutes after I left in the morning (that probably has nothing to do with my opening his door to take a little goodbye peek, right?), but I guess two nights in a row would be asking for too much. After he’s back in his crib I carry the toddler back to his bed so that he won’t wake us up too early with kicks to our private parts. I fall back into bed. When the morning becomes too obvious to deny, I pull myself from sleep feeling like I was run over by a truck the day before.

Same diff.

Rediscovering the Joys of Multi-Pitch Climbing

(Photo: Climbers on the seldom-climbed upper pitch of Beatle Brow Bulge (5.10a).)

This past week I was reminded of how much fun it can be to romp up easier multi-pitch classics in the Gunks. I got out twice with different partners.

On Thursday I took a day off from work to climb outside with several of the folks from my winter training program. Don McGrath, the leader of the program, came to New York from Colorado with his wife Sylvia, who is also a climber and who also participated in the program. I drove up to meet them in the Gunks with with another participant and fellow Brooklynite named Dave.

Dave has very little outdoor climbing experience so it was my privilege and mission to give him a pleasant introduction to trad climbing in the Gunks.

(Photo: Dave on Classic (5.7).)

Since it was a weekday we had our choice of routes.

From my perspective we had a great time on several classic moderates. We took our time and worked on things like belay commands, double-checking of systems, and rappel procedures.

(Photo: Dave on Rhododendron (5.6-).)

I hope Dave remembers the day the way that I do, and not (for example) as a never-ending death march of too many climbs.

Dave said he had fun. He also said he'd do it again, which is a good sign.

(Photo: Dave on Horseman (5.5).)

We tried to stay in the same general area as Don and Sylvia. Sometimes we all shared ropes and pitches and sometimes we did our own thing.

(Photo: Dave on Dennis (5.5).)

The only real surprise of the day for me was an obscure route called Three Pines (5.3). Perhaps you've heard of it? After you've exhausted all the other climbs in the Gunks you might get around to this hidden gem...

Dave and I ran up Three Pines on Thursday and it was only as I began the third pitch, off the GT Ledge, that I realized I'd somehow never done the route in its entirety before. I knew the first two pitches well. They are great fun, featuring super juggy climbing. They are easily combined into one long pitch. But the third pitch was new to me, and wow! Great exposure as you traverse to the right away from the main face of the cliff, above The Dangler and 150 feet of air. And then if you go directly to the top of the cliff with no wandering you will do a few nice 5.6 moves up a short bulge. Pretty cool.

(Photo: Dave on Three Pines (5.3, Direct Variation 5.6).)

Dave got a taste of the real trad experience on Three Pines, traversing out over all that air, alone and with his belayer out of sight and earshot. He performed admirably, getting through it all without stopping. By the time he reached the 5.6 face at the end of the pitch he was just about ready to quit, but he did not quit. It bodes well for his climbing future.

(Photo: Elizabeth on Cakewalk (5.7).)

Sunday was a special climbing day for me because I was getting together with my old partner Elizabeth for the first time in a long time. She used to be my go-to partner, back when I was working my way through the sixes and sevens and eights. We learned a lot about the Gunks together, having many adventures and misadventures along the way, some of which I've written about here.

Liz and I were together on what remains, for me, the best day ever. This was the day in 2009 on which we did CCK and Bonnie's Roof for the first time. Both routes were previously unknown to us. I had dreamed of attempting them some day, and then, without warning, "some day" came along and it turned out we were actually ready. On that day it seemed like a whole new world opened up to us.

The excitement of climbing, the physical and mental challenge, the tingly sensation of exposure over a great void, the realization that the Gunks is a magical place full of wonders... all of it was ours and it was brand new, as though we alone had discovered it.

The Gunks is still a magical place to me and I love it dearly, but sometimes I think every new challenge I set for myself is just a vain attempt to recapture the innocent bewilderment that I experienced on that awesome day back in 2009.

Elizabeth and I haven't climbed together recently because her life trajectory took her back to her hometown of Allentown, PA, where she settled down and had two babies. Climbing hasn't fit into her plans.

But she never lost the climbing bug, and a few weeks ago she asked me if I could meet her to climb for a day.

I was psyched.

We had a great time. Again, I hope I didn't push it too hard. We did a lot. Elizabeth struggled on some climbs but that was to be expected after her long time off. Considering it had been years since she climbed, she held up really really well.

We walked into the Trapps looking to do just about anything moderate that was open. After we knocked off Raunchy (5.8 and still a lot of fun) and Cakewalk (5.7 and great but a little run out in the initial face climbing), I saw that Balrog (5.10b) was just sitting there, available. I had attempted it in late 2012 but had to hang at the tough, burly crux moves up onto a slanting face above a roof. Ever since then I'd wanted to go back for the redpoint but whenever I came near Balrog it was either wet or occupied.

So on Sunday when I found Balrog just sitting there, dry and open, I couldn't resist it. I asked Elizabeth if she'd be cool with trying it. This was a harder route than I thought she would really be interested in doing. I hadn't planned on it. But she was okay with it so long as we followed it up with an easier multi-pitch classic.

Sounded like a great deal to me.

Balrog still wasn't easy but I got it done this time without a fall or a hang. I felt like I'd really improved in the 2.5 years since my last attempt. Reaching the holds above the roof was so much easier this time, and while I still grunted and worked hard to find a way to get my feet onto the sloped face above the roof, I was able to hang in there and eventually work it out. I still think I must be doing it wrong. It should be easier. But it is of no consequence! It is finished.

(Photo: Elizabeth battling the Balrog (5.10b).)

It was time for our muti-pitch classic. I thought immediately of Madame G's but when we got there there were several parties strewn all over it. It looked like a nightmarish situation. I thought we might as well check out Snooky's Return (5.8), which was nearby, though I had no illusions that we'd actually get to climb it. It is very popular.

When we got there it appeared that Snooky's just might be possible. Gavin and Jen, two climbers I've met at Gail's house, were about to clear out. No one was waiting. There was a group of climbers top-roping Friends and Lovers (5.9) next door. I felt we'd be within our rights to start up Snooky's without saying anything, but it seemed more considerate to ask the guys next door about their plans. If they wanted to TR Snooky's from the shared bolted anchor I didn't want to get in their way.

So I asked one of the climbers what they were going to do. I believe these were my exact words:

"Excuse me, sir, but I was wondering what your intentions are with regard to Snooky's Return?"

For some reason this gentleman thought my query was amusing.

I couldn't understand why.

Later, when the aforementioned amused person overheard me making an offhand remark about law school, he said that he "knew" Liz and I must be lawyers. I resented this. I don't know how a person can make such a cruel judgment based on something as trivial as the wording of a simple interrogatory.

Of course, it happens to be true that I am a lawyer (and so is Elizabeth). But to suggest that I sound like one? That's a horse of a color that is not dissimilar.

The next time someone says I sound like a lawyer, I just might sue.

(Photo: Elizabeth on pitch one of Snooky's Return (5.8).)

In any event, the top-ropers gave us their blessing and Elizabeth and I did Snooky's all the way to the top. It was a joy. The first pitch is the clear winner with its excellent, consistent face climbing. But pitch two is pretty darned nice as well. It has interesting face moves as you traverse left and then, a bit higher, back right. The line wanders but it presents itself as you move along.

(Photo: Elizabeth finishing pitch two of Snooky's Return (5.8).)

The top pitch too is worthwhile. From below it looks like a bushwhack up a dirty corner but there is a clean, steep traverse and roof escape hidden there. It is brief but pretty good.

After we were done with Snooky's, Liz was feeling kind of beat. She suggested maybe I should do another hard climb and she would sit it out and take a breather.

She didn't have to ask me twice. I was feeling really strong so I decided to try Coexistence (5.10d), the great Mac Wall testpiece.

The big one.

I thought maybe I could send it. I did it clean on top rope once.

As we were about to get started I got pretty nervous. People started appearing out of nowhere-- some of them known to me, some of them strangers-- saying "Ya gonna try Coex?? Good luck! Tough route!"

It was unnerving. I felt the weight of their eyeballs. I was a little bit tense about the runout 5.8 part up to the first ledge. Heck, I was a little bit tense about everything.

(Photo: Past the opening bit on Coexistence (5.10d). Here I'm just beneath the first ledge. The next move is very easy but if I blow it I'm probably hitting the ground.)

It didn't go too badly, but I didn't get the send. I worked my way upward, slowly and carefully. I placed lots of gear. It wasn't so bad getting to the first ledge. Then there were some interesting moves up the crack before the crux roof, but the protection was good and I worked these moves out without much trouble.

At the roof itself, I had a hard time committing. There is great gear; you just have to move up on some pretty crappy holds. It is hard to figure out. I did a lot of testing of holds before finally getting pumped out and taking a hang. After exploring a little more I figured out what to do and when I finally committed to going for it I got up and over the roof.

After it was over with I wished I hadn't been so tentative, but even if I'd really gone for it on my first foray above the roof I think I still would have failed. I needed to work out the beta, and this took me a few tries. I don't know what I did on top rope last year. It seemed like a different route on lead.

On the bright side, I think I have it worked out now and will, with luck, get the send next time. Coex felt easier to me than Ridicullissima, for sure. It is so much less sustained. I can't really see how it is harder than Try Again (5.10b), actually. Coex has much better climbing on it than Try Again, but the hard part is rather similar.

I made a mess out of the descent. I tried to clean the pitch on rappel, which presented a challenge since the route follows a crack with a slant. I attached myself to the side of the rope going through the gear so I wouldn't go too far from the pieces, but I found it very difficult to control the rappel and also pull myself over to the right so I could get at my gear. I should have had Elizabeth lower me while I retrieved the pro, or maybe I should have just lowered off entirely and then followed the pitch from the ground in order to clean it. Or we could have offered a burn on Coex to any of the twenty people who were around the Mac Wall at the time. That would have been better, and likely just as quick.

I ended up leaving a few of my pieces behind and the folks next to us on Try Again kindly retrieved them for me on their way down.

It was now after 5:00 and the cliff was clearing out. I wanted another good muti-pitch route for Liz and luckily we found Madame G's sitting completely empty.

It was a perfect way to end the day. I've previously described this climb as the best 5.6 in the Gunks-- now I think it might be the best climb in the Gunks, regardless of grade. It is just so great for such a long time. It offers fantastic juggy fun.

(Photo: Topping out on Madame G's (5.6) as the sun goes down behind the cliff.)

Standing atop the Madame G buttress, belaying Elizabeth up, I felt a renewed love for the Gunks, my hometown crag. Yes, the place gets crowded. But we got on some of the best moderates, on a gorgeous Sunday, without waiting for anything. You just have to be flexible and willing to climb whatever you find open at any given time. That's my secret: don't wait in line. Keep looking. You'll find something else that's good.

And do the upper pitches! Up above the first-pitch frenzy, a cool breeze is blowing. The birds are circling gracefully and Skytop cliff is visible in the distance. It is easy to get sucked into doing mostly single-pitch climbs, especially when you are looking for harder pitches to do. But there's a special pleasure to be found in getting up high off the deck. It took a couple of "easy" days for me to remember it. But this week I really felt the magic again.

Good Times in Never Never Land (5.10a), Battling the Balrog (5.10b), and more!

(Photo: Making the first crux move just off the deck on Absurdland (5.8).)

The day after Thanksgiving is often a great day in the Gunks. The weather is frequently cooperative, and the cliffs are always pretty empty.

This year we had a great time, climbing in shirtsleeves and light jackets, although it was a bit chilly when we first set out. Gail and I climbed in a party of three with Julia, a friend of Gail's with whom I hadn't climbed before. During the drive up, I found out that Julia is a lot like me, working through all the classic 5.9's in the Gunks and setting her sights on the 5.10's.  

I knew this might well be my last day of climbing in 2012, so I hoped to get on at least one 5.10.

But first we had to find a good warm-up climb. I suggested Absurdland (5.8), a great single-pitch route I hadn't been on in 2012. I had taken a brief hang at the second crux way back in 2009 when I led the climb onsight, and didn't go back until 2011, when I easily followed Maryana up it. I really enjoyed it last year and wanted to go back to send it on lead, which I was confident was well within my abilities nowadays.

The climb reminds me of the first pitch of Son of Easy O (5.8). In both climbs the first 20 feet contain steep, somewhat thin moves up a crack, and then both climbs ease off to beautiful, lower-angled face climbing. On Absurdland the two crux moves come pretty fast off the ground. Both moves are well-protected and maybe a little stiff for 5.8. (The climb has at times been rated an easy 5.9.)

I had no trouble with the cruxes this time around, though I could see why I took that hang back in 2009. The second crux is pumpy and if you aren't confident enough to move right away it is difficult to arrange a rest stance there. There is good pro right at your chin so my advice is that you just go for it! After that move it's all gravy.

(Photo: Julia starting up Gory Thumb (5.9).)

Absurdland ended up setting the agenda for the rest of the day. Everything else we did was nearby.

Julia picked Gory Thumb (5.9) for her first lead. I was glad she selected it because I'd never done it before. I had looked at it and rejected it because it seemed like a squeezed-in route (next to Raunchy and Wild Horses) without too much too offer. I thought the crux thin crack on the white face about 40 feet up would be over in one move, and that the rest of the climb would be a waste of time. Also I was concerned about the pro down low.

But Julia found a really good nut right after the start. (I struggled to remove it.) And I ended up enjoying the pitch. The initial moves are much easier than 5.9 but they are interesting. Up above, the crux is good and well-protected with small wires. You can finish as Julia did by continuing straight up above the crack to an easy fault, or you can contrive to prolong the real climbing by stepping left and making a couple of slab moves up to the ledge, which is what I did (at Gail's suggestion) as the second. Nice pitch. Maybe a touch easy for 5.9? Swain has it as 5.8+.

(Photo:  Thin moves right from the jump on Never Never Land (5.10a).)

After Gory Thumb it was my turn to lead again and I knew exactly what I wanted to do. My objective was so close, drawing me like a magnet.

Balrog! Balrog! Balrog!

This climb has been on my list all year, which might seem strange because no one thinks it is an "easy" 5.10. At 5.10b many call it a sandbag. The crux is very unusual, featuring a hanging, sloping corner. You have to find a way to reach up to the holds high in the corner (which plays out like a roof problem), and then find some way to get yourself onto the odd, sloping left wall of the corner. But even though this crux is challenging, it is short, and there is an awesome horizontal crack-- it resembles a mail slot-- for pro right at the crux roof. It is a clean fall into the air if you fail. I figured that even if the crux was too hard for me to onsight I should be able to protect it well.  

Why not go for it?

I dispensed with the easy early climbing quickly, placing very little gear. Then I found myself at a slab beneath the looming roof. In this slab was a perfect thin vertical seam. Up close, the crux roof looked much scarier than it did from the trail. There was a great-looking undercling hold in the roof and from there I figured I could reach the mail slot on the left side of the hanging corner and throw in a piece. But if I was wrong and fell reaching for the slot I might tumble awkwardly down the slab. I hesitated quite a bit, placing a nut in the seam, then thinking about the move, and then repeating the whole process.

I ended up placing four (!) nuts in the slab before I finally went for it.

I needn't have worried so much about reaching the mail slot. That part turned out to be no problem.  

But I struggled with the crux reach afterward, taking a few hangs before I figured the whole thing out. I had great gear. Ultimately I had two cams in the mail slot, a purple Camalot that was solid if a little shallow and a bombproof red Totem Basic (Alien clone). If you place two cams as I did, make sure to leave some room for your hand and a later toe!

(Photo:  Julia on Never Never Land (5.10a), before the crux.)

I was disappointed that I didn't onsight Balrog, but I'm pretty sure I can redpoint it in 2013, so long as I nail the reach after the mail slot to the great hold up in the corner. There is no magic to this reach, you just need the confidence that comes from knowing how bomber the hold is. The subsequent move to the left wall is strenuous, but I think I have it all worked out. I will not spell it all out but I will tell you the secret to my beta:

Sometimes, grasshopper, it is better to push than to pull. 

I'm not sure but I suspect I might be doing Balrog the hard way. Dick Williams says in his guidebook that the climb is especially rewarding if you can figure out the easier way to do it. After I got back down, Julia struggled with Balrog much as I did, and then Gail schooled the both of us by sailing up it like it was nothing.  I was belaying and couldn't quite tell what she did, but it looked very different from my solution. If you are searching for the especially rewarding easy way to do it I'd suggest you reach out to Gail.  She knows.  

Note:  If you are heading up Balrog in the near future, bring some new webbing. The two pieces of webbing that were tied to the belay tree there in late November 2012 were both feeling pretty brittle. We went ahead and used the station but in retrospect I wish we'd replaced the webbing.  

(Photo:  More of Never Never Land (5.10a), juuust beneath the crux.)

Julia was pissed off about Balrog, and she was on a mission for redemption. She decided to get it by leading Never Never Land (5.10a).

This was her first 5.10 lead and I was honored to witness it. Although Never Never Land has an easier rating than Balrog, I think Never Never Land is a much headier lead, with spaced pro and far more sustained climbing.  

Gail and Maryana have been pushing me to lead Never Never Land, but I have resisted, both because this kind of thin face climbing isn't my favorite thing and also because in the summer of 2011 I toproped it with Gail and (to my enduring shame) I couldn't do the crux move AT ALL. It was a very hot, slimy day, and at the time, in those conditions, I couldn't imagine doing the move cleanly. The crux crimpers were so greasy, the footholds nonexistent. On that day I fell several times and then gave up, French-freeing the move by pulling on the draw at the bolt.    

This time around I was excited to follow Julia up Never Never Land so I could check it out in better conditions without having to lead the climb. I'm afraid that watching her did not make me want to jump on the sharp end.  There is a repeated pattern of hard moves above gear that lead to the stances where one can get pro. A fall at any one of these difficult moves would not be horrible, but would send you for a ride. There are one or two such moves before the crux. Then the crux move just after the bolt is well-protected, but you have to run it out to the piton at the next horizontal, which is quite a ways away. Right before the piton is another hard move. After the piton it eases off a touch and the final moves have better pro but it isn't easy by any stretch. The thin face moves continue all the way to the chain anchors.

(Photo:  Julia just past the crux of Never Never Land (5.10a). Big crimpin'! Way to go!)

Julia did a great job, handling the whole thing with a calm intensity. There were some tense moments, but she made it to the top without a fall, elated. When it was my turn, I was pleased to send it on toprope. Still I worry about leading it, as there are at least three places where I can see myself falling off if things don't go just right. Whether on lead or on toprope, I should really do more of this type of thin face climbing. All the way up I kept telling myself (and others!) that I hated the climb, but by the time I reached the chains I had to admit I loved it just a little.

We ended our day with a warm-down. I led Cakewalk (5.7), another nearby classic that usually sees action only on its first pitch, which ends at a bolted chain anchor. On my last and only previous trip up Cakewalk I'd gotten lost and wandered into some much more difficult and poorly-protected climbing, from which I'd thankfully emerged unscathed. This time I made sure to go left immediately after the tree and it was nothing but joy. Some nice face climbing wanders up to the obvious, huge right-facing corner. Dick describes the first part of the pitch as a little run out but I found plenty of pro. Then the burly moves up the corner were great fun. Before I knew it I'd reached the chains. The climb, like 2012, was over much too soon.

Gunks Routes: Cakewalk (5.7) & Raunchy (5.8)

After our hasty descent from atop pitch one of Bitchy Virgin (5.5), Liz and I sat around a while, eating and hydrating. Liz, who is expecting a baby in the fall, had suddenly felt faint while I was leading Bitchy Virgin's pitch two. I had downclimbed back to her and we'd bailed.

Back on the ground, we had to decide whether to continue climbing or just give it up and head back to my rental house.

Liz was insistent that she could, at the very least, belay me while I did another pitch or two. But I didn't want to be the only one climbing. Also it seemed a little insensitive to use the pregnant lady as my belay slave. Eventually Liz convinced me to climb something else, and we left it tentative-- maybe she'd try it too. I decided to pick something that could be easily set up as a single pitch toprope.

It just so happened that there were a few such climbs nearby that I'd been eager to try.

The first was Cakewalk, a 5.7 I've wanted to get on for about as long as I've been climbing. It is one of those climbs I've inspected from the ground and rejected previously because I couldn't spot the line. It begins with a scramble up to a tree, and then it gets confusing. If you keep going straight up from the tree, you're on a 5.10b called Nurdland. Cakewalk, by contrast, goes up a bit from the tree and then traverses left to a crack which is followed up to a larger flake system and then a big corner. Several folks have made the mistake of going up too far without traversing left and found themselves committed on the 5.10 Nurdland when they'd intended to stick to the 5.7 Cakewalk.

I recalled reading on the web about this hazard, so I was sure I'd find the correct route and not fall into the trap. I thought I could spot the correct traverse. It looked to me like the route went a bit up from the tree and then traversed through a slightly lower-angled weakness to the left, heading up again at the prominent right-facing flakes below the big corner. It didn't seem like there was much pro in this section, but Dick says this part of the pitch is a little run out, so I thought I must have found the correct path.

Well, I soon found out I was way off. I headed up to the tree, moved up, placed some gear in the flakes directly above the tree, and took another step or two upward. Then I tried to place some more gear in a thin vertical seam. It was a bit of a struggle, but I finally wormed a marginal C3 in there.

I didn't realize it, but I had already gone up too far. In my ignorance I made another couple moves up and left, and soon found myself in very thin territory. My feet were on a little edge, and my hands were matched on a pimple. It looked like I could make a couple more thin moves left to the flakes that I thought must be on Cakewalk, but these moves clearly weren't going to go at 5.7. What had appeared lower-angled from below now seemed plenty steep and basically featureless. Looking back now, I don't think I was on either Nurdland or Cakewalk at this point; instead I was in a no-man's-land between the climbs.

Contemplating the moves I was sure that in a fall I would hit the ledge even if the marginal cam I'd placed was good. I'd messed up. Even though I had been warned in advance, I had fallen into the trap. I was off-route and committed. I had no choice but to carry on. I managed to place another tiny cam in a shallow horizontal, but I didn't like it any better than the first microcam I'd placed. Then a couple very tense 5.9-ish thin moves to the left brought me back to the 5.7 territory.

I was shaking and sweating like crazy, but I'd made it through. Now I could relax and go back to the easy climbing I was expecting.

The rest of the pitch was pretty awesome. Good steep juggy climbing, with an interesting mantle or two to get atop various parts of the big corner system. Once you are established beneath the huge right-facing corner, the route finding could not be more obvious. It is straight up the corner past several overhanging bits to the bolted anchor. Lots of fun with good pro.

When I reached the top, I set up a toprope so Liz could give it a shot. I cleaned the gear as I came down so she wouldn't have to follow my errant path. She sent Cakewalk with no problem, and she found the right route.

It's actually easy to stay on course. Please, if you want to climb Cakewalk, listen to me. Go left immediately after the tree! This is the key. On the ledge just above the tree level, go straight left. Do not go upward again until you are beneath a thin vertical crack that leads to right-facing flakes and the big corner. I didn't climb this vertical crack, but Dick says it is actually the crux. Liz said it felt like 5.7 to her. I'm sure it is easier ground than what I traversed through to get above it!

After we were done with Cakewalk we took a look at another nearby climb that's been on my tick list for a while: Raunchy (5.8). The first pitch is very popular. It has a good tree directly above the pitch so it is also easy to use Raunchy to set up the R-rated Wild Horses just to the right, which adds to the traffic.

I thought Raunchy would be good for us because it would be simple to set up the first pitch as a toprope for Liz. After her success on Cakewalk she was thinking she might just try another climb too, and it didn't have to be an easy one. If she didn't want to finish it or wasn't feeling well I could just lower her and go up again myself to clean it.

Raunchy has two cruxes. The first one is right off the ground. A seemingly blank, smooth face leads up about 15 feet or so to a ledge with a tree. There is no pro.

Earlier, as we'd walked over to Cakewalk, we saw a group of three starting Raunchy. Their leader had scrambled around left to sling the tree, effectively stick-clipping it and giving toprope protection for the early crux moves.

"No way I'm doing that," I thought, full of hubris.

When we came back to check on the climb after Cakewalk the party of three was just finishing up. I said something about how excited I was to try Raunchy. One of the party of three said "Oh, you haven't done this before?"

I told him I had not.

"Do you want a little beta?" he offered.

"Absolutely not!" I said.

Then I started up. There were a few little features to the right and a few little features to the left, leading to some slightly bigger horizontal edges. I tried to go to the right, made a step or two up. It didn't feel right. I stepped down again. I looked it over, then tried again. Again I decided to step down, thinking the start to the left must be better. This time I slipped off the starting foothold and slid to the ground, skinning my knee.

Undaunted, I headed up from the left side, and after a couple tenuous steps I made it to the better holds. From here the climbing got easier to the tree. But it still wasn't exactly a gimme. I had to wonder, as I approached the tree, whether the protection on this climb is correctly rated. Williams gives it a PG. I know it is typical in the Gunks for the protection ratings to disregard bouldery starts. But how is the start of Raunchy any different from the R-rated Hyjek's Horror? Isn't the distance to the first pro roughly the same? Aren't the hard moves at roughly the same height?

After I put a sling around the tree I looked up at the shallow right-facing corner that makes up the second crux of the pitch. The traditional route steps left around the corner after a move or two. There is a 5.9 variation that goes straight up the corner instead of stepping around left.

I was thinking about doing the 5.9 variation. But then as I stepped up into the corner, I somehow got my foot caught in a sling, and I stumbled back to the ledge with the tree. The rope was never weighted and I wasn't hurt, but I acquired a couple more scrapes and bruises.

I was kind of rattled. I decided to have a seat next to the tree and rest a minute.

I realized that I had been ignoring some warning signs. With the downclimbing earlier on Bitchy Virgin and the off-route sweat-fest on Cakewalk, I was mentally wasted. It was very hot out. I was making poor decisions: I probably should have stick-clipped the tree, and I'd just stumbled on an easy move. Maybe this just wasn't my day.

I considered packing up and heading home. But after thinking it over I went ahead and did the rest of the pitch, the traditional 5.8 way. It is very nice. I thought the crux step around the corner was fun, with good pro in the crack at the back of the corner, and then on the face after the move. The hardest moves on the pitch are the ones right off the ground. One day I'll go back and do it the 5.9 way, and try the 5.8 second pitch, which no one seems to do. Williams also suggests a couple other quality second pitches in the area that seem worth trying out: Stop the Presses, Mr. Williams (the second pitch is 5.6) and High Times (P2 is 5.7). It also might be worth checking out the short final pitch of Pleh! (5.8), which is a roof problem that starts from the GT Ledge.

Liz sent Raunchy on her first try on toprope, her near-fainting episode long forgotten. At this point we were both fried. We finished up with Dennis, a joyful 5.5.

It ended up being a productive day, and one with maybe a few lessons I've yet to fully digest. Something about being sensitive to your partner's limits, perhaps? Or maybe it's about being more observant of warning signs? Or is it all about route-finding skills? No, maybe the lesson is that you have to be mindful of the heat...

Maybe shit just happens.