My First 5.12: Uphill All the Way

(Photo: At the final crux on Uphill All the Way (5.12a).)

I know, I know.

It has been a while-- over two years!-- since I published a blog post.

It's not that I stopped climbing. Far from it.

But for whatever reason, my blogging dwindled and then faded away. 

Seems like people don't blog so much any more. But that makes no difference to me. I was never much of a trend follower, much less a trend setter. I have no big platform, nothing to sell. I am ignorant of fashion. I started this blog because I wanted to express myself. I post because I enjoy it.

But over time I have blogged a lot less about every single thing I did, and blogged more selectively, about what seemed like significant events. And I guess over time the truly significant climbing events have become a bit less frequent for me? 

When last we spoke, I talked about how I was hoping to send my first 5.12, before my 50th birthday. I've never been obsessed with numbers, but I have tried to make progress, however glacial, over the years. And finally breaking the 5.12 barrier after well over a decade of climbing seemed like a nice goal. I could have found an "easy" sport 5.12 for this particular milestone, but for me that would not have seemed legit. I am a trad guy, and my first twelve had to be a trad climb, preferably in my home crag the Gunks. 

I thought this achievement would be a great subject for my next blog post.

Only problem was, it didn't happen! I did turn 50-- there was no putting THAT off-- but the 5.12 never came. 

Until now.

At the start of the 2021 season, I finally sent Uphill All the Way (5.12a). I'm over 50, but not by so much. 

I'll take it. 

It was a somewhat circuitous journey. Allow me, please, if you will, to share with you my own "road to 5.12." This is not meant to be a guide for others. If you'd like an actual roadmap as to how to climb 5.12 I think you can skip the rest of this post and follow this advice: try hangboarding. It seems to work.

The first step, for me, was to follow around a great climber like Fredy, who showed me several of the prime 5.12 candidates in the Gunks. He introduced me, as a matter of fact, to Uphill All the Way, in late 2018 (which I discussed in my last post). 

(Photo: Fredy heading up the initial crack in November, 2018.)

As soon as I saw the climb, I knew that this was the one: the 5.12 climb that really fired my imagination, even though it might not have been the most sensible choice for my first 5.12. 

Why might it not have been the best choice?

Because it is hard! It is intricate and complicated, with four distinctly difficult sections.

When I first did the climb with Fredy, I was unable to do two of these four sections. 

But I loved how this short climb was packed with varied and interesting movement. It seemed to build on itself, getting harder and harder with each bouldery sequence. The climbing challenges were not the usual big roofs or blank sections between horizontals we so often see in the Gunks. In a way, the climbing seemed more typical of granite, with delicate foot placements on ripples in the rock and even some vertical crack climbing. And the gear was good, good enough that after our first visit I thought I might be able to attack Uphill All the Way on lead, and feel pretty safe doing so.

So after following Fredy up it just once, I considered it my new project. 

(Photo: Fredy took this shot of me on my first attempt at the climb in November, 2018.)

I went ahead and tried to lead it, with Josh, in May of 2019. It didn't go well. Despite my conviction that the gear was good, I found myself struggling to commit to the moves on the initial vertical crack, the EASIEST section of the route. I took a hang before making it to the rest jug at the top of the starting crack, and then felt too defeated even to try the next bit. I lowered off of the fixed nut and we walked away.

(Photo: Toh took this photo of me trying (and failing) to lead Uphill All the Way in May of 2019.)

This was a setback. Mentally, I wasn't ready yet.

But I wasn't done with the climb. In pretty short order, I had the chance to climb Uphill All the Way again with Fredy. He had narrowly missed on-sighting the climb at the end of 2018, making it all the way to the final move before falling off, and naturally he wanted the redpoint. 

Funny thing: when Fredy wasn't juiced with on-sight energy, he found the climb much more mysterious. When he and I tried the climb for the second time together, in May of 2019, Fredy did not send, and in fact had a lot more trouble with the climb than he had the first time. He had to put some real work into figuring out the moves. He took several whippers at the top, off of the final, crux moves up and around an overhanging corner. Then he lowered, took a break, and offered me the lead. I top-roped up to his high point and led on from there, taking several lobbers off of the crux move. I got no closer to being able to do the move, but I did get more comfortable with the idea of blowing it and taking the whip.

(Photo: Fredy sending in June, 2019.)

Fredy and I went back again in June, 2019, and by this time Fredy had it in the bag. He got the send like it was nothing, and I got another chance to work at the climb on TR and to make some progress. This time I got my beta a bit more worked out, though things were still far from smooth for me. 

At this point, it might be helpful to get into the weeds a bit and describe the challenges of Uphill All the Way, in detail. This is what you came for, right?

As I mentioned above, there are four sections:

1. Moving up the initial vertical crack. Funky moves, thin feet. This section is probably 5.10. At the top of the crack you reach a big jug, and an optional step up left to a rest. 

2. Stepping back down to the crack and making tenuous moves to the right, following a right-facing flake, with poor hands and very thin feet, to another good hold and gear. This is crux number 1. 

3. Moving straight up into the slanted, overhanging corner, to an undercling hold. This move requires balance and strength. This is crux number 2, and it is harder than crux number 1. After you get established in the undercling, there is an easy move up to a horizontal that takes your gear for the final sequence.

4. The true, final crux: moving up and left around the overhanging corner and onto the face. You have to make a big move to poor crimps for the hands, and then a challenging reach to the left as you rotate your body around the corner using bad feet on the arete. 

After working on the route with Fredy, I had the first two sections pretty well worked out. I came up with this nice step-through beta that usually works for the second section. And as for section three, I knew I could do it, though I still needed to work on it. Sometimes I fell and sometimes I nailed it.

But the final crux was still very hard for me. Up until this point I had managed to do the move successfully just once, on TR, and had fallen there many times. I found the move to be very low percentage. I couldn't reliably keep my foot on the arete and I couldn't use the handhold all the way around to the left with any consistency. 

Still, I wanted to try again. This was my 5.12, and I intended to work on it, or so I thought. 

For the rest of 2019, I kept putting myself in position to try Uphill All the Way on lead again. I made sure I was in the Trapps every time I visited the Gunks, and would pick other climbs for warm-ups that were nearby. I would even walk up to the route and put my stuff down, with the intention of climbing it. But then, over and over again, I chickened out. I decided I wasn't feeling it and walked away without trying it. I told myself that this must be part of the process of breaking into 5.12. First you have to work up the courage to try. And I needed more time.

I got a lot more time to sit around and work up my courage when COVID happened. 

I'm hesitant to talk much about COVID and its effect on my climbing. I don't want to sound like I think I am some kind of victim of COVID. I am one of the lucky ones. I have a job and a place to live. No one in my family got very sick or died from the disease. Of course it touched my life, as it touched everyone's. But I have nothing to complain about. I'm grateful to have gotten through the last year with my existence, and my family's existence, more or less unchanged.

Still, my climbing was negatively affected, just as I imagine yours was. The gyms were closed. Like a lot of people, perhaps, I personally went through a cycle in which I exercised like mad to stay sane for the first few months, and then got kind of depressed and stopped exercising entirely for a few months after that. The Gunks opened back up in June (I ran up there on the first day), and an outdoor gym in NYC opened up a few months after that. When I got back to climbing outside, I felt kind of normal, surprisingly. But I could tell that I'd lost something. I didn't have the endurance I took for granted before the pandemic. I definitely wasn't at my best. It would have been truly shocking if I felt any differently.

Nevertheless, somehow I fell back into working on Uphill All the Way in the fall of 2020. One day in September, Will and I were playing around on the 5.10d Ventre de Boeuf direct start, which is right next to Uphill All the Way, and I decided it might be fun to throw a top rope over Uphill again, for old times' sake.

(Photo: Will on Uphill All the Way.)

And what happened was kind of a breakthrough for me. I experimented a bit and worked out beta for the final crux that was much better for me than what I'd been doing. I used a different, higher foothold. It was hard for me to get the foot up so high-- I felt like I was putting my toe in my ear-- but once I did, the move around the corner was really solid. If I successfully got the foot up there, the climb was over.

This was exciting. It meant that I could do every move on the climb. I just had to put it all together. From that point on, I was inspired again. I started tackling the climb head-on, going at it on lead. We returned five more times in 2020. Will patiently belayed me over and over again. It was very nice of him. If he got tired of going to the Trapps every weekend, he kept it to himself. Over these several attempts, I got tantalizingly close to the send, falling off at the last move a couple of times. But I couldn't quite get it done. 

I think, more than anything else, the problem was that I felt weak. I would reach the final crux very tired; I couldn't seem to contrive much of a rest before the hardest moves. And I wasn't able to try the climb more than once in a session. I would be spent after one burn. It was clear to me that the COVID layoff was hurting my chances.

As the fall season ended, I resolved to get fitter. I wasn't sure that I was capable of feeling the way I used to feel. Maybe, at 51, I would have to work really hard just to stay the same. Maybe I'd never get stronger again?

In late December, I did something that was truly radical: I hired a climbing coach. 

I had always been uninterested in "training." Mostly this was because I really enjoyed climbing in the gym, and didn't want to turn it into work. I was afraid I would get burnt out and see climbing as a chore instead of a joyful, fun time. I also feared that I would hurt myself. It seemed like people who trained were always dealing with injured pulleys and the like. 

But as 2020 ended, I knew I wanted to do something to change my personal climbing trajectory. And then, completely at random, I saw an Instagram post from someone I didn't know, saying they had achieved good results working with a coach named Alice Hafer. I'd never heard of her. There was a link to Alice's own Instagram page, and when I clicked on it, I saw that she offered free consultations. Despite my longstanding lack of interest in training, I thought I had nothing to lose and, totally on a whim, I signed up for a meeting.  

I did no research. I considered no other coaches.

When I talked to Alice, I really liked her, and her fees seemed very reasonable, so I decided to give training with her a shot. And I don't really want to dwell on this too much or turn this post into an extended plug for Alice (she doesn't need my help anyway), but I can say without reservation that my time climbing with Alice has been amazing! She's worked wonders for me. She is really great and if she has space for any more clients you should hire her. 

Alice gave me a fitness test, analyzed my goals and tailored a plan specifically for me. I was worried that working with a coach would be boring, but she gave me all sorts of fun climbing exercises (which I never would have come up with myself), and listened to me when I said that sometimes I'd like to "just climb." Some of the things she's had me doing (like hangboarding) are things I could have developed a strategy for on my own, if I had the patience. But my eyes glaze over when I read these endless blogs and books on training and it has been so helpful for me to have someone to tell me what to do! 

It also helped that I buckled down and put in the effort. I did pretty much everything in the plan Alice gave me. It wasn't that hard to keep up with it, since I was mostly working from home and had no social obligations. There was nothing else to do much of the time but to work out. And it was very lucky, from a climbing perspective, that the governor never closed the gyms again, even though over the winter the state blew past every COVID benchmark that had been set for gym closures. 

Probably the most important aspect of working with Alice, for me, was the realization that my reluctance to "train" was based on irrational fears. I was afraid that if I trained I'd come to see climbing as a tiresome chore. I was afraid that if I trained I'd get hurt. But these fears were unfounded. 

While I was doing all of this training, I kept wondering how I'd fare once the outdoor season rolled around. I knew I was feeling pretty good, much better than before, indoors, but would it translate to routes in the real world? 

I found out pretty quickly once we got into March, and the temperature got high enough for some Gunks climbing. On my first day out I felt a little bit tentative, but as the day went on I cruised a few of my favorite 5.10s. They felt very easy. 

Then on my second day out, on March 13, I went to the Gunks with Richard. We'd been climbing together in the gym before the pandemic, and I knew him to be a strong boulderer who wanted to dabble a bit in the trad game. He was curious about the twelves I'd been talking about so I knew it was time to put up or shut up. We needed to head to Uphill All the Way and see how it went. 

(Photo: Richard on Uphill All the Way. He sent it on his second try on TR, which is very impressive!)

I didn't think I would send it right away, and I didn't. After four or five months away from the climb, I had to reacquaint myself with the moves. I assumed this would be a work session. As I expected, I fell a couple of times on my first trip up. But at the same time I could tell I felt better than before. My crimp strength was better. My flexibility was better. My endurance was better. I didn't feel at all tired. I thought that maybe I could send the climb if I went at it again.

So we rested a bit and I tried again. And then on my second attempt I took a random fall early, in the first cruxy bit! Oops. This was unexpected. I lowered off of the fixed nut and rested. 

And then on try number three it went very well indeed. See for yourself:

You can hear my shock at how it turned out in the video. Even though intellectually I knew I was close to sending this climb, I realize now that somewhere, deep down, I believed that maybe it would never happen. There was a barrier erected in my mind that I had to knock down. 

And now that barrier is gone! I've since sent a second Gunks 5.12, which maybe I'll talk about in another post, and I'm getting close on a third one. 

Looking back over the experience, I feel like I've learned so much from Uphill All the Way. I've learned about trusting my feet on things that aren't even footholds, more like small textures or changes in the angle of the rock. I've learned that sometimes the best way to do a difficult move is as slowly as possible, shifting my balance and keeping my whole body in tension to stay on the rock. And I've learned to experiment and to try new ideas, even if they seem like impossibilities at first. 

And in the time since March, I've just been floating on air. This spring has been a magical Gunks season for me, one like I've never had. I didn't expect to send 5.12 trad on my second day of the season. And now I'm just hoping to keep riding the wave, stay uninjured, and keep sending more twelves. I feel so grateful to be healthy and climbing well. It feels so good not just to work at new levels of difficulty, but to cruise up climbs that used to feel hard. The big thing missing for me now is travel, which I hope we will all be able to enjoy again soon enough. There are so many climbing destinations I want to visit and revisit. Time will tell.

I hope that you, too, are having the kind of fun that I'm having out there. Be safe and climb on, folks. Stay tuned for more reports, coming soon?

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.

Get Up, Stand (5.11a) Up!

(Photo: Inspecting the crux corner on The Stand (5.11a). Photo by Gail.)

I have been remiss. I have let a more than a week slide by without reporting to you my big news:

I led a 5.11 in the Gunks.

Let me try that again:

Holy Toledo, I led a 5.11 in the Gunks!

If you know what I've been up to, this news won't come as a huge surprise. This was one of the goals I've been working up to all season.

I chose The Stand (5.11a)-- again, not a shocker. I previewed this climb back in May in preparation for my lead attempt.

I didn't expect it to happen so soon. Right now we are in our annual sleepaway camp season, during which I'm usually not able to take very many climbing days. While the kids are away, my wife and I tend to do things together on the weekends which do not involve climbing. This year, after dropping our son at his camp in New Hampshire, we spent several days hiking in the White Mountains.

But right before we left town with my son, I got a last-minute invitation from Gail to climb in the Gunks on a Thursday. I really couldn't afford to take the vacation day... but when I saw that the weather was going to be just about perfect I couldn't resist the opportunity.

When Gail and I got to the cliff we didn't waste any time. I knew that if I didn't hop on this thing early in the day, I'd likely lose my mojo and decide against trying it. So after we did a quick warm-up climb I got set up for The Stand.

The route has just one crux sequence. It is an unusual move, requiring flexibility, balance and patience. You can see it from the ground. A shallow, left-facing corner hangs on the wall about twenty feet up. The face to the right and above the corner is nearly vertical. It appears to be smooth, like glass. After you climb up to where your hands are atop the corner, you must swing over to the right onto the smooth face and get one of your feet up to where your hands are. (No problem!) Once you've accomplished that, you have to figure out how to shift your weight to your high foot and gently rise up to a standing position on the glassy slab.

I wasn't too worried about protecting the crux. There is good gear there at your hands before you start the sequence. But by the time you make the stand-up move, the gear is at the level of your feet, so it is a bit spooky.

I was a little more concerned about the gear AFTER the crux. I remembered (from my top-rope preview) finding a tiny horizontal seam when I stepped left just after the crux move. I recalled that there was another hard move above this little crack, and I worried that if I couldn't get gear in that seam when I led the pitch, I would start to freak out. Also, I knew there was another hard move at the beginning of the pitch, right off the ground. I had no idea if it was easy to protect this move or not. I would have to climb up there and find out.

When I racked up for The Stand I brought some little C3's with me (in addition to my usual small Aliens) for the tiny seam.

Heading upward, I immediately started playing the old up-and-down game, climbing into, and then out of, the initial bulge just off the ground. As I'd remembered, there is a hard move there (probably 5.10a?), pulling up through the opening bulge, and I didn't want to go splat right off the deck at this first challenge.

After several reconnaissance missions, I was able to slot a good nut over my head in the vertical handhold above the bulge, and with this pro in place I made the move, getting up and over it. From here I found easier climbing and plentiful protection up into the crux corner.

(Photo: Approaching the crux corner on The Stand. Photo by Gail.)

Now it was time for the actual 5.11 climbing. Once I'd attained three good placements (!) at the top of the corner, I got started figuring out the move. Back in May, on top rope, I eventually got over this move but it took me three tries. This time I really wanted to get it without a fall.

I'm pleased to tell you that it all worked out, though not without a tiny bit of drama.

Turns out, you can get fully into the "stand" move on The Stand and still climb back down out of it if you don't think you're going to make it. This makes the climb a pretty good lead, I think. The move is very tricky but if you are patient you can work it out before really committing all the way. I went up and down, getting a little bit higher each time, and then finally it clicked. I could feel it was just right as I shifted my weight over my toe and slowly stood up-- and it was over.

(Photo: After "The Stand" on The Stand. Photo by Gail.)

Except it really wasn't over. After feeling a great rush of joy, which lasted for about five seconds, I started getting really jittery. I still had to make a very thin move to the left and pray that I could find gear there in the little horizontal seam. I had to protect the next sequence, a hard step up the blank face to a wide horizontal. Once I slowly made the thin step over, I actually got a few pieces of pro in the little crack, much to my relief, but then I found it so hard to calm myself down for the move up.

Eventually I did make the move. But then I found the next one to be very hard too! There was another tough move up blank rock between another set of these spaced horizontals. I'm sure these moves weren't as hard as they seemed. Nobody talks about them. But I was feeling a lot of pressure. My 5.11 send was within reach but not in the bag. I did not want to fail. I kept trying different ways to reach the next horizontal and, feeling like I was about to blow it, I would step down and start over again.

Would it ever end?

Finally I remembered to breathe. I shut down the sewing-machine leg, committed to the move and made it up to where I could traverse left to the bolted anchor.

I had done it: I led The Stand without a fall or a hang. It was a clean 5.11 lead. I took more time negotiating the final two moves than I did on the whole rest of the climb, but who cares? It was in the bank; a great success.

(Photo: Gail at the big reach over the initial bulge on The Stand.)

It was worth it. But I was pretty whipped from the mental strain. Later I tried for the redpoint on Simple Suff (5.10a) and I ended up having to hang at the same move where I failed the last time I tried it, almost two years ago. I have to go back and get the send on this one, soon. It is annoying. This climb seems to have my number. I find it very sustained and tiring.

Gail and I also tried some climbs that were new to us.

(Photo: Gail leading Sticky Gate (5.5).)

Our warm-up for the day was the first pitch of Sticky Gate (5.5), at the right end of the Slime Wall. I've enjoyed nearby climbs like Wasp (5.9) and Coprophagia (5.10a), as well as the upper pitch of Sticky Gate off the GT Ledge, which the guidebook calls Sticky G Direct (5.7). But neither Gail nor I found much to like about the first pitch of Sticky Gate. The climbing is unremarkable and there are some scary stacked blocks just to your right as you go through the middle of the pitch. It's also kind of run out down low. I don't think I'll come back to it.

We also did Hooky (5.6), so you don't have to. Ugh, don't bother with this one. There's nothing really interesting about it. It is dirty and wandery, with some crapola rock.

Finally, we did an interesting link-up of Double Crack (5.8) with the second pitch of Uphill All the Way (5.8). This combination of pitches is given no stars in the guidebook but it has a lot of good climbing on it. It is the only practical way to approach the second pitch of Uphill All the Way, since Uphill's first pitch is a 5.12 testpiece which ends at a fixed anchor way off to the left. Getting to the neglected second pitch from Double Crack is much more direct and makes a lot more sense.

When you do this linkup you get to do the hardest and best part of Double Crack: the first thirty feet. Then you traverse left along the obvious horizontal to a large set of flakes. There are some cool moves up these flakes, which lead to a small belay stance at the corner. I decided to continue, doing the whole linkup as one pitch, but this was a mistake. I had horrendous drag at the top. Next time I will split it up and belay at the stance.

After the optional belay the climb follows Uphill All the Way up and left through a bulge in orange rock. This is the 5.8 crux of the second pitch and the moves are very good. The pro is spaced, however, and there are several fragile flakes and plates on the wall here. Be very careful. After the crux bulge the rock improves and an easy roof is followed by a long diagonal traverse back right to the corner again. Finally you do some steep juggy reaches to a ledge with a tree, maybe thirty feet beneath the Double Crack tree.

(Photo: Gail finishing Double Crack/Uphill All the Way (5.8).)

We both enjoyed the link-up despite the questionable rock through the crux. The climbing is very interesting, with some exciting situations. I would do it again. Bring doubles for the rap, or if you use a 70 meter rope (as we did) you will probably just barely touch down. A 60 meter single rope definitely will not make it. Watch the ends if you use a 70, and angle your rap up the hill for the landing.

I'm still kind of in disbelief about The Stand. Having knocked off my first 5.11 lead, I have to decide if I'm ready for a tougher one: Carbs and Caffeine (5.11a). Though Carbs has the same difficulty rating as The Stand, it is a much bigger undertaking. I've never been on it, but I understand it has a hard roof followed by a desperate, hyper-exposed crab-crawl traverse to the finish. There will be no top-rope preview of this one. I've got to just walk up to it and try to do it.

I think I am prepared for it and I there is no question in my mind that I can attack it safely. So when we see some favorable conditions in a month or so it will be high on my list. I'm excited just thinking about it.

Cool November Climbing: The Nose (5.6+), Bold-ville (5.8), The Winter (5.10d) & More!

(Photo: Gail in the traversing portion of the Nose (5.6+).)

We're running out of climbing days in 2013.

The last time I got out was Sunday, November 10, with Gail. The forecast was for temperatures in the high forties, with a zero percent chance of rain. Sounded good enough for November.

We decided to head on down to the Seasons area. Gail expressed an interest in leading the 5.9 first pitch of the Spring. I was considering (maybe?) leading the second pitch of the Winter (5.10 b/c), which is directly above the Spring's first pitch. I was also thinking about the first pitch of the Winter (5.10d), just to the left, as well as several other more moderate climbs in the immediate vicinity, such as Shit Creek (5.7) or Torture Garden (5.8).

When we arrived at the Seasons area there were some other climbers looking around but everything was still open. I elected to start our day with the Nose (5.6+), a route I've often wondered about. I never see anyone on it. I had previously done the opening moves of the route, up an open book, as the direct start to Fillipina (5.9-), but I'd never continued with the real business of the Nose. After the open book, the Nose traverses left for fifteen or twenty feet above the lip of a roof out to a point (the namesake "Nose") and then face-climbs upwards to eventually meet Fillipina above its crux roof at a fixed piton belay station.

With Gail I started up the open book and found it kind of tough to get established, just as I did when I did this part of the route in 2011. There is great gear in a crack at the back but the moves are a little stiff for 5.6 in my opinion. I had hoped it would feel different this time. You know, since I'm a much better climber now and all that.

But no, it felt the same.

Up at the top of the open book, as I prepared to move left into the traverse, I felt a few drops.

Looking up, I realized that it was raining.

I thought I was the victim of some cruel hoax. It was cloudy as we walked in but I figured it would just burn off.

There was a zero percent chance of rain! Zero!!

Life is so unfair.

I waited there for a minute, trying to decide what to do. I could probably get quickly to a fixed anchor up and right, rather than finishing the Nose, if I needed to bail. But it seemed like the sprinkles in the air weren't making the rock very wet, at least for the time being, so I continued with the original plan.

I liked the Nose traverse. There are footholds at the lip of the roof and the pro is fine all the way across. The exposure on the traverse is exciting. At the nose of the Nose you are forced to wrestle with a tree in order to move up to the crux face climbing. It is an enjoyable enough sequence if you like negotiating with living but unconscious obstacles. Just above the tree there is a thin move up that I think is again a bit stiff for the grade, and the pro is not that easy to arrange. I got a small nut in a twisted placement in a little horizontal that I thought would hold, but I had to work to get it and I wasn't thrilled with it. You can also sling the tree at a small branch.

After the one sketchy move there is very nice face climbing up a crack to the anchor.

The Nose is a really cool little climb. I think it is harder than 5.6, and in the cruxy spot above the tree the gear is pretty tricky. But there is a lot of good, varied climbing on the route. I think it deserves to be more popular.

I hadn't noticed any wetness as I finished leading the pitch, but after Gail lowered me and took her turn on the climb the rain picked up. It got pretty steady as Gail traversed and then moved up out of my view. She reported that the face above the traverse was starting to get slippery. Once she was back on the ground we stashed our things under the roof where our gear would stay dry and waited a bit to see whether the rain might stop. I wasn't enthused about leading any of my projects in wet conditions.

Others around us were still climbing.

Kathy, a great climber I know from Brooklyn Boulders, was leading pitch one of the Winter. I snapped a few photos of her as she did the second half of the pitch. I was interested to watch her since I was considering leading it too. I top-roped this pitch once with Maryana a few years ago and I remembered the crux as being short and not too bad. I thought there would be good nut placements in the crease at the back of the crux corner.

(Photo: Kathy starting the crux sequence on the Winter (5.10d).)

As I watched Kathy I lost my nerve a little bit. The crux moves looked hard and different than I remembered. Kathy went a bit to the right where I recalled staying in the corner. I worried about the fall I would take into the corner if I couldn't get a secure enough stance to place a nut mid-crux, before the fixed pin that is above the hardest moves.

(Photo: Kathy almost through the crux on the Winter (5.10d).)

Kathy made it up without incident and then she and her partner Matt decided to keep on climbing even as the rain continued unabated. They were excited about Matt's project, Uphill All the Way (5.12a), a climb he'd come very close to sending before. He'd previously fallen at the final crux move, a high-step over an overhang onto a blank face.

(Photo: Matt in the lower bits of Uphill All the Way (5.12a).)

Gail and I were inclined to wait for the rain to stop before continuing to climb so we watched Matt attempt Uphill All the Way.

I was deeply impressed with his performance. The climb ascends a thin little corner that turns into an arch. The gear is all tiny nuts and a few small cams. Matt made it look easy but it was obviously quite difficult all the way up to the final move. (Dick Williams says the early moves before the crux are 5.11d, which isn't much easier than the finishing 5.12a move.)

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

At the last challenge Matt seemed to struggle for the first time but it all worked out. He made it over the roof and onto the glassy face without falling, getting his redpoint. I was very happy for him. He was psyched, and with good reason.

(Photo: Matt getting close to the final move on Uphill All the Way (5.12a).)

Kathy and Matt kindly offered to let me try Uphill All the Way on top rope. I was taken aback. It hadn't even occurred to me that I might try this climb. But I accepted their offer. I regret to inform you that I didn't get very far on the route. I made some difficult moves but then struggled three or four times at a bulging bit several moves up, right before the route starts to move to the right. There is a big reach to a jug. I couldn't find the right body position and repeatedly fell off. Matt and Kathy encouraged me to continue but I felt that I was wasting their time. I also suspected that if I removed the next piece of gear and then fell off while moving right I wouldn't be able to get back on the route. The rain was finally stopping so I figured we were all better off if I moved on. (Gail wasn't really interested in trying Uphill All the Way.)

I walked away feeling like maybe I should have tried harder. I don't want to be dramatic, but watching Kathy and Matt was awe-inspiring for me. I know I challenge myself, and I set serious goals for myself given my limited climbing availability. But what I do is nothing compared with what Kathy and Matt were doing. These two were REALLY going after it (in the rain!), on routes beyond my comprehension.

It is one of the great things about climbing: there are no rules about how hard you have to climb. You can compete against others if you are into that. Or you can admire the achievements of others and compete against only yourself. Or you can choose not to challenge yourself, and just have fun on climbs that are well within your limits. There's nothing wrong with that either.

I wouldn't mind being good enough to climb Uphill All the Way, though this isn't my goal. What I really want is just to be super solid at 5.10. But it isn't as simple as that, since top-roping more and working 5.12's would go a long way towards making me more solid at 5.10. So I probably should be more eager to work at routes like Uphill All the Way, even if I never plan to be a 5.12 leader. I have to readjust my thinking. I have to conceive of such routes as reasonable and possible for me. And then work on them. The same goes for harder problems in the gym.

I hope that watching Kathy and Matt will inspire me to work harder over the winter.

But I digress.

Once Gail and I got back to climbing, I decided to lead the first pitch of Bold-ville (5.8) to see if the rock was feeling dry. Bold-ville is a great 5.8, with several interesting moves up an arching corner/crack system and then a small overhang at the end of the first pitch. It is not what I'd call an easy 5.8. There are some challenging moves on Bold-ville and the difficulty is fairly continuous. But there is bomber gear the whole way so I would encourage anyone breaking into 5.8 to give it a try. (The second pitch is also a really good 5.6.)

Once I reached the end of the pitch I suggested to Gail that we top-rope the Winter. The rock felt fine but the rain must have sapped my mojo as I was no longer feeling so sure about trying to lead harder stuff. I thought it would be good to preview the Winter and then maybe I'd come back and lead it later.

(Photo: Gail getting started on the Winter (5.10d).)

I set it up from the chains over the Spring. There is a manky threaded sling anchor directly above the Winter but when I arrived there was a party using it, finishing up the Winter as I led Bold-ville, so I elected not to confuse matters by sharing the fixed anchor. I thought it looked pretty junky anyway. (There is a second junk anchor a little higher up that I wish I'd removed. It is just knotted old slings stuck in a vertical crack. At least two of these slings can be easily lifted out by hand. Please don't use this anchor. It is dangerous.) Instead of using the fixed junk I set up our rope on the bolts to the right (over the Spring) and placed some solid directional pieces over the Winter. It was easy enough to arrange and the bolted anchor gave me piece of mind.

I climbed the Winter cleanly but I found it difficult. It is steep down low and there is a little alcove near the ground that you have to work your way in and out of. This part of the route isn't 5.10d but it may be 5.9++.

Then you get to the crux right-facing corner. It is pretty blank but there are some crucial finger-locks and footholds. As I worked out the moves (staying in the corner, unlike Kathy), I said to Gail that I was finding it hard and that I didn't think I was ready to lead it. But then I immediately had second thoughts and considered that I'd been able to step up into pretty good stances in the corner. I thought I would be able to stop and place gear.

I might fall if I lead the Winter. But I am pretty sure I can protect it well. So I really should come back and lead it soon.

After we were both done with the Winter (which Gail also climbed cleanly) we moved left so that Gail could lead Fillipina (5.7). The traditional second pitch goes left through a neat roof at a sandbagged 5.9- but Gail planned to stay to the right, heading to the fixed anchor that is directly above the start. Gail's path is written up in the guidebook as the first pitch of a link-up climb that combines pitch one of Fillipina and pitch two of Bold-ville. If you do Fillipina this way, going straight up rather than left, it is no harder than 5.7.

Gail led the pitch in no time. I enjoyed it, though it isn't really anything special. A couple of steep moves up a crack right off the ground lead to easier climbing up a face and left-facing corner. It is a pretty casual 5.7 (we both thought it was easier than the Nose) and the gear is good. It would make a nice link-up with Bold-ville's pitch two, although pitch one of Bold-ville is much better than pitch one of Fillipina so if you're up to leading 5.8 I would definitely do Bold-ville instead.

We had time for one more pitch so I decided to try Lady's Lament (which is 5.8 straight up to the anchor-- there is a loose 5.10 roof traverse which Dick Williams now lists as a variation). This climb is on the face between the Nose and Fillipina. I've never seen anyone on it or heard anything about it. When Gail and I looked it over we saw no chalk. Dick calls it PG. I though it might be fun to give it a try.

So I stepped up into the reachy, steep first move and got a slap in the face. It was surprisingly tough to get the horizontal and rather strenuous to hang out and place gear. And the horizontal crack was pebbly and more shallow than I expected. Still I needed to get a piece in there because the next move was another big reach. I didn't want to crater after blowing this second move. It could be an ankle-breaker.

After some urgent fiddling I got what I hoped was a bomber green Alien and then I made the rather dynamic move up.

Having made this second hard move I could exhale a bit. These opening moves felt about as difficult to me as Maria Direct (5.9). I was not in the mood for such a challenge. I thought we were cooling down with a 5.8 hidden gem, or at least that was the story line I had already written for myself before I headed upward.

(Photo: Gail making the reach to the first horizontal on Lady's Lament (5.8).)

And it wasn't over. I was back in groundfall range before I got another piece in (though the climbing was easier) and then I arrived at the supposed crux face climbing up a face with a thin crack.

I studied this face for a while, not seeing any good gear above me and unsure of the move. Stepping up and down a few times, I decided I really wasn't feeling it. I knew it would be easy to step to the left and follow the Nose up past the crux of Lady's Lament, after which I could easily move up and right to the fixed anchor. So that is what I did. I aborted Lady's Lament because it was enough already and I just wanted the pitch to be over so we could go home. Not the proudest way to end a day that was already short on accomplishments.

I'll have to go back and lead Lady's Lament another time. Gail did the crux face moves when she followed the pitch and she spotted potential gear placements and some hidden holds. She said the crux was nice.

As we packed up to leave Kathy and Matt ran by us in the fading light. They were on their way to try to knock off the Sting (5.11d). Their mojos were certainly intact! I hope I recover mine if I get another shot at the Gunks before the year is out.