Moving the Goalposts in the Gunks

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I knew this was a pathetic answer.

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

*  *  *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It sounds reasonable on paper, anyway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What can I say, the guy is good.

* * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fredy wasn't having it.

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

He told me I knew exactly what to do.

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

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

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

It went perfectly. Of course.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * *

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

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

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

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

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

Oceans of Elevens in the Gunks

(Photo: That's me, setting off with some trepidation toward the many roofs of No Man's Land (5.11b). Photo by Andy.)

I've been feeling good lately. I'm climbing better than I have all year.

And it's high season! We've had some beautiful fall days in the Gunks.

I am a man in a hurry.

For me the goal is simple: I want to push into the 5.11's. For real.

I've done very few of them. I have my pick of the lot. As of a few weeks ago, I'd sent just three elevens in the Gunks. It shouldn't be hard for me to find some more. I can walk up to the best ones and try leading them. 

If only it were so easy. These climbs are at my limit. Not so long ago, I thought leading trad 5.11 was something I was incapable of doing. It should go without saying that I need to explore these routes safely.

The problem is that in the Gunks, a lot of the climbs that are harder than 5.10 have pretty sparse gear. It isn't like other areas such as, say, Indian Creek, where a harder grade just means the cracks aren't the right size for your hand. In the Gunks, the harder grades often signify that there aren't any cracks at all. With difficulty comes extra commitment.

But I know there are many Gunks elevens that have more than adequate gear. I just have to find them.

In my last two visits to the Gunks I starting wading into the 5.11 pool with a purpose. I tried to on-sight some elevens, and to check out some others on top rope to see if I could find a way to lead them with adequate protection.

I got out with Andy on an October day that was supposed to be rainy. But at 6:00 a.m. the weather in NYC looked good enough for the time being, and after driving up to the Gunks we headed straight down to the area near the Yellow Wall.

There are several 5.11 climbs nearby.

(Photo: Andy resembling a climbing ninja on Ent Line (5.11b).)

We started out by warming up on Ants' Line (5.9) and then we used its bolted anchor to take a top rope run on Ent Line (5.11b).

I'd done Ent Line on TR once before, and I remembered the initial 5.10d face as kind of tricky. And then, as I recalled, the 5.11 roof above wasn't too hard. I'd never seen anyone lead the climb. The guidebook says it is PG-R during the 5.10 part, and just plain R for the 5.11 at the top. I wanted to check out the placements for myself.

As I climbed the route with the security of the top rope, I was surprised to find lots of spots for gear all the way through the (very nice!) 5.10 climbing up the steep face to the rooflet. This part of the climb would be a great 5.10d lead on its own. And at the top of the face, there is gear at the 5.11 roof as well, at the bottom of the overlap where the handholds are. Above the roof there is another hard move or two on the upper face, and this is where it gets complicated: I'm not sure there is any pro for these last moves. It would be a big whip if you blew it at the top.

Despite the runout at the end, I think that I will lead Ent Line. It appears safe to lead the climb up to and over the roof (just watch out for the tree next to the wall). After the overhang, you can step to the right and finish on Ants' Line, or place some gear over on Ants' Line and then step back to the left to do the final moves on Ent Line. Either way it is a good 5.11 lead.

Now it was time for our big target for the day: No Man's Land (5.11b). I'd been talking about hitting this route for a while.

Like all the routes at the Yellow Wall, No Man's Land climbs through an impressive and intimidating multi-tiered roof system. Standing beneath the wall, you can feel the aura of the place wash over you. The overhangs are immense. I'd previously done one of the routes here, Carbs and Caffeine (5.11a). It had been tough and it had taken me a few tries to get it cleanly. And when I attempted Carbs, I knew there were bolts protecting the technical crux moves. This knowledge took away some of the fear, though later in the climb when I did the mental crux, moving out a hanging corner with no footholds (and no bolts), it was still plenty scary.

As far as No Man's Land was concerned, I knew that there would be no bolts. The bottom part of the pitch was reputed to be easy but poorly protected. And in the hard climbing above, I expected the pro to be difficult to place as I moved through the three tiers of the big roof system.

I racked up and dove in. 

The climb begins up an easy slab past a tree, with good pro in some cracks. Then the wall steepens and you climb 40-50 feet in 5.7-ish terrain on orange rock with almost no gear. The climbing is fun and casual but you have to be careful. As you approach the first giant overhang the pro situation improves; I was relieved to find great gear the entire rest of the way.

(Photo: That's me past the runout face and into the first tier of the overhang on No Man's Land (5.11b). Photo by Andy.)

I ended up taking a couple of hangs. I made it through the first tier, which is probably 5.10. Then I found harder moves to get over the second and third tiers. For me, the only issue at tier number two was commitment. Once I really went for it and found gear up there, the move was no problem. At the final ceiling I had more trouble. I had to hang to figure out the move, but once I did, I was pretty sure I would get it the next time.

My partner Andy had no issues at all as the second.

(Photo: Andy in the midst of the overhangs on No Man's Land (5.11b).)

Walking away from No Man's Land, I felt like maybe I would have been more successful if I'd been more aggressive. But I also felt pretty positive about how it went. I'd sorted it all out, the gear was good where it counted, and I knew I could come back and get the send. It wasn't THAT hard. I thought maybe it was easier than Carbs and Caffeine. It is a great line, with a thrilling atmosphere.

Next I ran up the first pitch of Airy Aria (5.8) so we could throw a rope over yet another 5.11b: the first pitch of Scary Area.

Now, I don't pretend to have enough experience in the 5.11 grade to be an expert, but this thing felt much harder to me then either Ent Line or No Man's Land. The pitch isn't long, but the wall is steep and the holds are small and sloping. There are several bouldery, hard moves.

And it is a dangerous lead. There are two protection bolts, but the first one comes after two very difficult sequences. There is a potential placement in between the two hard moves but I think you'd still hit the boulders on the ground if you blew it during either of the hard bits below the bolt. After the first bolt, the gear is adequate for the difficult moves that follow. The second bolt is completely unnecessary; it is slightly off-line and comes in between two good horizontals.

(Photo: Top-roping Scary Area (P1 5.11b). Photo by Andy.)

Andy got Scary Area cleanly on his first try on top rope. I didn't, but I felt like I worked it out and I could see coming back and setting it up again to take a few more runs on it. Then I could either leave the first bolt stick-clipped and lead it with the rope above me for the first cruxes, or if I felt like I really had it dialed I could try to lead it from the ground up. It is doable but I'd want to know for certain that I have it in the bag before taking on the initial moves without gear.

In any event, this first pitch of Scary Area is worthwhile. There is a lot of good climbing on it, even if you just do it on top rope.

Scary Area ended up being our last climb of the day. The rain finally arrived, sending us running for cover. Even though our day was cut short, I felt like we'd done some excellent work.

I now had some new projects to complete.

Andy and I were soon back in the Gunks for another day. I was pumped to hop back on No Man's Land... eventually. At some point.

Why rush? We had a full day ahead of us.

While I got mentally prepared for No Man's Land, there were plenty of other options.

I've been meaning to attempt Matinee (5.10d) all year. It remains one of the few big tens that I haven't tried. So with Matinee in mind, we started our day on Pink Laurel (5.9), which is right around the corner.

(Photo: Andy coming up the final bits of Pink Laurel (5.9).)

This was actually my first time leading Pink Laurel, after all these years. And my first time doing the pitch two roof. I ran it from the ground to the top in one pitch. I thought the first pitch was great. The crux move out of the alcove is awkward, and there is good exposure during the easier climbing up the corner to the ledge. I thought the second pitch was kind of a waste of time. It wasn't that interesting and felt easier than 5.9.

When we finished with Pink Laurel we found Matinee occupied. So we shifted gears and walked on down to the Seasons area.

(Photo: I'm in the early going on The Winter (5.10d). Photo by Andy.)

I was excited to do The Winter (5.10d). I'd been on this route before, but needed to get the redpoint on pitch one. And I wanted to try the second pitch of The Spring (5.10b/c), which sits directly above pitch one of The Winter. (It is confusing. The second pitches criss-cross above the first pitches.) The Winter/Spring link-up, done together in one long pitch, is sometimes called The Winter Direct. I'd never done the second half of the link-up.

It went very well, and man oh man, what a climb! The first pitch of The Winter is excellent and demanding, with a tough move off the deck just to get established and then wonderful thin climbing up a corner with tiny nuts for gear. When you throw in the second pitch of The Spring in one lead, you add a completely different challenge; a big roof in a corner. It too is mentally challenging, with a committing move out into space to get established in the roofs. The guidebook gives this pitch a PG-R rating, but I think the gear is good once you commit.

I was psyched to get the send on pitch one and the on-sight on pitch two. I think this double-length pitch is one of the best tens in the Gunks.

(Photo: Andy finishing the difficulties on pitch one of The Winter/Spring, with the challenging roof/corner of pitch two looming above.)

The Spring (P1 5.9) was sitting there open to our right so we did that one too, and again I led straight up at the end of pitch one and tacked on pitch two of The Winter. This upper pitch is rated 5.10b/c or d depending on how you do the crux. Dick Williams says in the guidebook that if you go straight up at the crux it is 5.10d, but if you hand traverse five feet to the left it is 5.10b/c, a little easier.

For most of its length, The Spring/Winter link-up features good, technical 5.9 corner climbing. Then there is a great slot for protection just below the obvious 5.10 move but you do have to step up above the gear. A couple of seasons ago I led up to this point and chickened out, traversing off to the right when I wasn't feeling it. But this time I wasn't worried. I followed the little handholds upward and was through it in no time.

I thought that I'd done the direct 5.10d version, but when Andy followed he reached to his right for a sidepull that I didn't use, so maybe I did it the 5.10 b/c way? The two options are within easy reach of each other, without anything that seemed like a "hand traverse."

(Photo: Andy at the second pitch crux of The Spring/Winter link-up (5.10d).)

Whichever way you finish it, the climbing on The Spring/The Winter link-up is nice, but not remotely as challenging as The Winter/Spring link-up to the left. The climb has a lot of good 5.9 on it and just one sequence of 5.10.

Andy and I had now ticked off six guidebook pitches pretty quickly. We were well into our short day and I still hadn't hopped on No Man's Land.

I figured we had to do it now. I told myself that I knew what to do.

Racking up, I felt a little bit nervous, but once I started climbing everything went off without a hitch. I negotiated the runout section without much worry. I remembered my beta for each of the three overhangs. The gear was good. The moves went fine.

I sent it in 17 minutes.

It is definitely easier than Carbs and Caffeine. Or maybe I'm better now? Who can say?

What a thrill! I was very very happy about it.

While Andy cleaned the pitch, I took a quick look at the namesake route for the area, The Yellow Wall (5.11c), just to our right. I thought about getting on it.  This would REALLY be the big one.

Staring up at the gargantuan roofs, I thought that I should do it. I had to do it. It would be a dereliction of duty NOT to do it.

But I came up with a million excuses and reasons not to... and then I remembered Matinee.

This was my out.

"Hey Andy, let's go back to Matinee!" I said.

We walked back down there but it was still occupied.

I decided to try another nearby climb: A-Gape (5.11b). This one has a crux roof with good gear, right next to the classic 5.8 Ape Call.

(Photo: That's me at the 5.9 move protected by an old pin on A-Gape (5.11b). The crux roof is above me in the upper left-hand portion of the picture. Photo by Andy.)

I thought the climbing at the start was interesting, up a layback crack. Then a 5.9 step to the right with only a very rusty old pin for pro was a little bit dicey. After that it was easy climbing up and further right (almost touching Ape Call) and then back left up the slab to the obvious big roof with a pointed flake underneath.

I was relieved to get good gear in the roof. I started out with two pieces, and then bumped it up to three after I fell off.

And I kept falling off. This is a hard roof.

(Photo: Attempting the roof on A-Gape (5.11b). Photo by Andy.)

There are some poor-to-middling holds above the lip. I could reach them. But I couldn't figure out how to get my feet up. I kept flaming out and taking the whip, several times. This was a real lead fall past the gear and down the slab, but it was clean. I must have taken the ride at least five or six times. Eventually I decided it wasn't going to happen. I gave up and traversed over to finish on Ape Call. I had to leave my blue Alien behind, hopelessly fixed at the ceiling.

I'm not sorry I tried A-Gape. It may be no Yellow Wall but it is a quality route. I'm pleased I made a game effort at it. My only regret (apart from the lost Alien) is that I never figured out the move. This was my fourth 5.11b in recent weeks and it felt much more mysterious to me than the others. I must have missed some kind of heel trickery or something. Since I traversed off and never finished the lead, Andy never got to try the roof. I'm sure he would have figured out what I was doing wrong.

(Photo: That's me, finishing our day on some obscure 5.9. Photo by Andy.)

As we walked out in the twilight I felt pretty darn good about our day, despite my semi-epic on A-Gape. I'd had some amazing sends on The Winter Direct and No Man's Land, and I felt like I had laid a foundation to make real progress into the 5.11 grade in the Gunks.

I don't know how much more climbing I'll get done at my home crag this season. Next week I am headed to Red Rocks for four days with my old pal Adrian. I have some big goals in mind. My enthusiasm is surging. I feel lucky to be going there before they turn the Bureau of Land Management into a mining company. Given recent developments in the real world, I may be tempted to hike into one of those big canyons and never come out...

Sorry. This is not a blog about politics.

I shall return. And if the weather permits, I may yet find some more 5.11's to attempt in the Gunks in 2016!