2017: The Year in 5.10 and Beyond

(Photo: That's me, leading Turdland Direct Direct (5.10d). Photo by Nancy.)

It is always fun to take stock of the year as the climbing season draws to a close.

We had a weird autumn this year. Summer seemed to drag on forever, and after just a couple of weekends with good temperatures we find ourselves with little left of 2017. While we often get some good days here and there during the winter months (so long as there isn't too much snow), it seems like our Gunks season is for the most part at an end.

So what did I accomplish in 2017? If you know me, you know I like to have goals. I always go to the Gunks with a list of things I need to get done.

The top agenda item for me this year was my project to finish off the 5.10 grade in the Gunks. More specifically, I wanted to send all of the "star-worthy" 5.10 climbs in the Trapps and the Nears, on lead. I came up with this goal in late 2016, when it occurred to me that I was already pretty close to achieving it. I figured that with a little bit of focus I might be able to get through all of the remaining climbs on the list in 2017.

My guru for this project has been Dick Williams. I view his assessments of the routes in the Gunks as definitive. When I look at Dick's ratings for difficulty, quality, and protection, I generally know exactly what to expect. When I rely on his description to do a route that is new to me, I usually walk away feeling like I get why he says what he does. Even if I find some surprises on a route, or occasionally disagree with Dick's opinion, I can usually construct a rationale to defend his point of view.

I used Dick's guidebooks for the Trapps and the Nears to put together my list of the 5.10 routes to which he assigns at least one star, and which I had not yet sent on lead as of the end of 2016. As soon as 2017 got under way, I started working on the list, checking them off.

As of mid-May, which was the  last time I reported to you on my progress, this is where things stood on my list:

Trapps:

Sonja (5.10a/b)

Stirrup Trouble (5.10b) (DONE in March)

Matinee pitch two (5.10d) 

Nemesis (5.10a) (DONE in March)

Birdie Party pitch two roof (5.10b)
Interstice pitch two roof (5.10d)

Mother's Day Party pitch two roof (5.10a)

Reach of Faith (5.10c) 

Turdland Direct Direct (5.10d) (ATTEMPTED in April but fell at roof)

Nurse's Aid pitch two (5.10a) 

Directissima Direct (pitch one 5.10b/c variation) (DONE in February)

Ent Line (5.10d or 5.11a) 

Space Invaders (5.10d) 

Tweak or Freak (5.10a) (DONE in April)

Bragg-Hatch (5.10d)

Creaky Joints and Trigger Points (5.10b)

Tennish Anyone? (5.10c) 

Near Trapps:

Topeka (5.10a)

Outer Space Direct (5.10b)

Criss Cross Direct (5.10a) (DONE in April)

Fat Stick Direct (5.10b)

Tulip Mussel Garden (5.10d) (DONE in April)

Elder Cleavage Direct (5.10b) (almost DONE but took hang on Pitch 1; have to go again)

Boob Job (5.10b) (DONE in April)

Wooly Clam Taco (5.10c) 

Hang Ten (5.10a) (ATTEMPTED in April but fell)

Whatever (5.10a) (SECONDED in April; have to lead)

Spinal Exam (5.10b/c)

In the second half of the year, I've made significant progress towards completing the list. But I'm still not finished.

I've accomplished nothing in the Nears since May. I went back once on a very hot day in June. I managed to fail for the second time on Hang Ten, hanging twice before I figured out where to put my feet as I pulled the roof. So my Nears list is exactly as it was halfway through the year.

But in the Trapps I have much to report. I redpointed Turdland Direct Direct (5.10d) with Nancy in early September, and on an assortment of different dates I attacked most of the other remaining climbs on my list.

Sonja (5.10a)

I've been both attracted to, and repelled by, Sonja for a long time, because it is a vertical crack climb. We don't have too many of these in the Gunks, and crack climbing is not my strong suit. People often describe this as a "thin hands" crack, but it actually varies. In the portion of the crack that I think is the toughest/steepest, there are textbook, gold-Camalot-sized hand jams.

(Photo: Attempting Sonja (5.10a) in the dog days of August. Photo by Gail.)

Because I am a crappy crack climber, I had to try this one on two different occasions before I got the send. On my first visit to Sonja with Gail in August, everything felt slippery in the heat. We both struggled in the crack. My so-called jams felt insecure. I had to hang a couple of times on my lead attempt, and I was soaked with sweat by the time I finished. I ran up it again for practice, getting it cleanly it on TR after Gail took her turn. I figured I was sure to send it on lead as soon as it got cooler.

In early November I went back with a new partner, Will. This time around, I got it done, though it was touch-and-go there for a minute as I got into the thinner hands part up towards the top. After I was done, I watched Will casually stroll up the thing on TR and saw that I still have a lot to learn about crack climbing. While I had executed a high-stepping layback move off the crack to get up to a stance near the finish, Will never deviated from straight-in jams and looked totally solid doing so.

(Photo: Cruxing out on Sonja (5.10a) in November. Photo by Will.)

I should go back and try to learn some more from Sonja but now that I've gotten a clean lead on the climb I'm not sure if I ever will. My first thought as I got to the top was "Thank God, I never have to do that again!" It is a very worthwhile climb, short but challenging. Steep and varied. You can place great gear over your head before you commit to anything so there really is no excuse not to lead it.

Mac Wall Roof Pitches

I have spent more than my fair share of days at the Mac Wall over the past several years. Sometimes I feel sick and tired of the whole wall. And yet, in all of the time that I logged at this wall prior to 2017, I never led the second pitches of Interstice (5.10d), Mother's Day Party (5.10a), or Birdie Party (5.10b). I think that I'm not unusual; few people bother to do these roof pitches, which is a shame. The Birdie Party roof gets done the most out of the three, but I hardly ever see anyone on that one and I've NEVER seen anyone on the other two!

When I finally got around to doing these pitches, I found out that they are all great. If you have a seventy-meter rope you are really cheating yourself if you don't tack on one of these roofs whenever you do any of the Mac Wall tens at this part of the wall. It is a simple matter to continue in a single pitch through any of the roofs to the fixed anchor that sits above.

I led the Birdie Party roof pitch in early November with Will. (I chose to start with pitch one of Mother's Day Party (5.10b), making for a very direct line.) I'd followed this roof pitch before so I knew what to expect and ticked it off without a problem. It is a typical Gunks 5.10 roof. With a heel hook and a couple of crimps, you are done. It is a little bit spicy after the roof. You need to move up on some non-juggy holds for a couple of 5.8/5.9 moves before you can get gear again. Once you do, you are very close to the fixed anchor.

Later in November I returned to the Mac Wall with Rob to do the other two roofs.

I started with Interstice, which breaks the overhang just a few feet to the left of Birdie Party's obvious flake in the ceiling. I was a little bit worried about Interstice because in the guidebook Dick describes the face above the roof as R-rated. But I believe Dick has it wrong in this one instance. I found this roof to be as well-protected as any roof in the Gunks. You can place a bomber piece above the lip before you pull over the roof, and once you stand up, you can get a good Alien or other small cam, although at this point the gear is strenuous to place because you are standing in an overhanging position on some small holds.

I actually blew it on my first attempt as I stood up over the roof, before I got to place the small cam, and the fall was totally clean. Then I started over from the level of the MF bolts and led through the whole roof so I'm counting it as a redpoint send and calling it done.

(Photo: Rob making the reach over the roof on Interstice (5.10d).)

I loved this roof. It is my favorite of the three. It takes a big reach to get past the initial overhang and then a few more good moves in a steep little concave section of the wall before you reach easier climbing and the fixed anchor. If you do Interstice in one pitch from the ground through the roof (which is what I did), you get three incredible cruxes, all completely different from one another. I think this is one of the very best tens in the Gunks, which is saying a lot.

After we got done with Interstice I led MF Direct into the Mother's Day Party roof. This roof is just to the right of the Birdie Party roof, directly above MF's bolted anchor. Aim for a rectangular notch in the roof. If you look to the right you can see the pin on MF approximately five feet further over.

(Photo: Rob getting through the rectangular notch on Mother's Day Party (5.10a).)

This roof presents a very interesting, bouldery problem. You have to make a big, committing move up into the rectangular notch (with pro at your ankles), and then move left to a bomber horizontal that takes good gear. Once you reach this horizontal the actual roof pull that comes afterwards is straightforward and easier. I got the on-sight on this one (with much stepping up and down), but I would say it felt harder to me than 5.10a. I think it is tougher than the Birdie Party roof and maybe as hard as Interstice.

I'm so glad my little 5.10 project led me finally to get around to these roof pitches! I will definitely go back to all three of them.

Reach of Faith (5.10c)

I can't say the same for Reach of Faith. I did all three pitches of this climb with Rob on the same day that we did those Mac Wall roof routes. I will likely never return to it.

I was curious about Reach of Faith, since no one does the route. I expected it to be dirty and loose. But Dick had to have some reason for giving it a star in the guidebook.  

I found the first two pitches to be poorly protected. The first pitch goes at 5.4, so the sparse gear isn't terribly troubling. The second pitch, on the other hand, is one of the scarier 5.8 pitches that I have ever led. There isn't any gear to speak of as you trend up and right over a couple of ledges with blueberry bushes. I finally found some pro when I reached a spot of rock that is lighter in color than the surrounding stone, but I was dismayed to find that all of the features there rang hollow. I felt like I was in a do-not-fall situation as I entered the crux 5.8 climbing, venturing left on a mystery traverse (with no additional gear) for ten or fifteen feet until I could head up through a notch and easier climbing to a belay ledge.

(Photo: Rob coming up the final bits of pitch two of Reach of Faith (5.10c).)

When I led the crux 5.10c pitch, I could sort of see why Dick granted the climb a star. This pitch is better than the other two, and you can reach it by taking Hawk or Southern Pillar to the GT Ledge if you want to check it out, though I'm not sure it is worth the trouble. You have to battle past a tree to get over an initial overhang, and then finally you are rewarded with a good mid-5.10 roof, with solid pro. Then you top out through a thick field of lichen.

I wrote up Reach of Faith for Mountain Project if you want a more detailed description.

Space Invaders (5.10d)

I'd done Space Invaders on toprope, but it was a few years ago and I couldn't really remember much of anything about the climbing. Call this an alzheimer's on-sight. I led it in November with Will.

This climb has a variation to the left and one to the right, but Dick's book only lists the right-hand version so that's the one I led.

I felt pretty good about how I performed on this one. The climb has lots of fun bits as you work your way up the overhanging, right-slanting crack. To my relief, I found great gear. I placed something every time I reached a good hold. And the climbing is really good, sequency and interesting.

Creaky Joints (5.10b) and Tennish Anyone? (5.10c)

(Photo: Leading Creaky Joints and Trigger Points (5.10b). Photo by Rob.)

I knocked both of these off with Rob on a beautiful October day.

I liked Creaky Joints and Trigger Points (5.10b). I wish it were longer. But the crux is my favorite sort of climbing: thin moves with gear placed under pressure. The business comes right away, as you step onto a a steep face with a slanting, thin crack. You can get gear before you commit to getting out there but once I was into the real climbing I really wanted another piece before making the crux move up. I placed a small nut in a hurry and I think it would have held if I tested it, but luckily I never had to, as I made the move and it was all over.

This climb is well worth checking out if you are down in the area.

I'd previously attempted Tennish Anyone? during a very hot and humid Memorial Day weekend back in 2016, and on that occasion I'd had to hang in the crux traverse. I'd found the crimpy holds to be difficult to use.

(Photo: Rob heading into the crux on Tennish Anyone? (5.10c).)

When I returned to the route in 2017, in perfect October conditions, the holds felt huge! This is a great pitch, a bit technical and demanding, different from the usual thing. With its crimpy moves sideways and then up, it reminds me a bit of Black Crack (5.10+) out in Lost City, but I think Tennish Anyone? is easier.  Not too many people lead it, since it is very easy to toprope the route after you do Wegetables (5.10a), but it is a very good lead. The crux is well-protected. There is a committing move up to a jug before the crux, which I protect with a tiny tiny nut that I think would hold. This move isn't really difficult, but it is smeary and might give one pause.

Ent Line (5.10d or 5.11b)

This climb has been my white whale of 2017, occupying too much of my time and frustrating my every attempt. I still intend to go back to finish it off but I'm starting to grow weary of my own failures on the route. I'm tempted to call it done for 5.10 purposes but I know that this would be dishonest and break my own rules, since I haven't yet led the thing to the finish without falling.

I've never done it the 5.10 way, in which you merge with Ants' Line through the overhang, after the 5.10 crux. Instead I've tried to do it the 5.11b way every time, staying left of the Ants' Line crux and blasting straight over the roof. 

My first attempt, with Nancy back in September, was a reconnaissance mission. Even though I had done the climb before on toprope, I was wary of the PG/R rating that this climb gets in the guidebook, so my main concern wasn't the climbing but the gear. I was also concerned about smacking into the big tree next to the wall. Of course, since I was worried about falling it became a self-fulfilling prophecy and I took a whip from the 5.10 crux, which is a tricky move where you have to step to the right using very small holds. The fall was clean, much to my relief, and from that point on I explored the gear with every move, stopping several times to hang and inspect the potential placements.

(Photo: That's me heading up Ent Line (5.11b). Photo by Gail.)

A week later I went back with Gail and tried for the send. It was a super summery, hot day, and every move felt difficult. Nevertheless I got through the 5.10 crux and made it all the way up to the 5.11 roof, where I fell off after making a weak throw to the ledge above the roof. This fall, too, was totally clean. Going up for the second time, the roof felt easy. So I walked away secure in the knowledge that I had everything worked out, and that I could come back on a cooler day and finish Ent Line off.

(Photo: Gail approaching the crux roof on Ent Line (5.11b).)

That cooler day arrived in October, with Josh. Conditions were perfect and I started up the route for my third attempt with confidence. The rock felt great and the 5.10 crux was over before I knew it. Everything felt right as I got set up for the 5.11 roof. But somehow I fumbled my footwork up there, and though I made a game effort to regroup and actually grabbed the shelf above the overhang, I slipped off and took the fall AGAIN. 

There were numerous people standing around on this peak-season weekend day. I know that most people don't lead this route, so just getting up there and leading Ent Line is pretty cool, I suppose. Several of the spectators offered words of praise about my efforts. I was happy to give them a show, including a nice whipper, but I felt like a chump. I couldn't believe I'd blown it again. Up until the moment I slipped off I felt like I had it.

I still have to go back. I'm disappointed in my performance but now I know what to do. I just have to execute. 

And the route is really awesome. It is relentlessly steep and the moves are tricky/beta intensive. The protection is very good at the cruxes but I hesitate to say that the gear is exactly what you'd want throughout. In between the first 5.10 crux and the 5.11 roof there are a few moves where hitting the tree is a real possibility and I wouldn't want to fall. But I feel very good about those moves and I think Ent Line is a safe lead for me.

Bragg-Hatch (5.10d)

On that same October day with Josh I failed at my on-sight attempt on Bragg-Hatch. 

This is a short but high-quality climb up a tricky corner below a roof. At the top of the short corner you escape right on some more tricky moves on crimps, for just a few feet, and then move up to easier territory.

I struggled to place a good nut at the top of the corner, but hung in there, only to fall as I tried to move to the right. My nut got totally welded when I fell on it and Josh could not remove it. I don't know if the nut is still there but if it is the climb will now be much easier to lead! Even if it isn't there I think I will find the climb easier the second time, and should be able to get the send without too much trouble.

(Photo: Josh on Bragg-Hatch (5.10d).)

Bragg-Hatch is very different from Creaky Joints, discussed above, but the two climbs are similar in that they both would be truly great if they were longer. Both climbs feature tense moves with gear placed in the midst of the action. They are both worthwhile climbs but I wouldn't make a special trip for either of them.

There are two options for finishing Bragg-Hatch, after the hard part. You can continue straight up a right-facing corner to a tree with slings. Or you can traverse right to a left-facing corner. I chose to traverse to the right and I enjoyed the 5.8/5.9 climbing up this corner. 

* * *

As of now, I have just four pitches left on my 5.10 list for the Trapps: Ent Line, Bragg-Hatch, the second pitch of Matinee and the second pitch of Nurse's Aid. These are all redpoints. I have led every one of these pitches, just not cleanly. So I think I know what I need to do.

If we get the right conditions in December I just might be able to finish all of these tens in the Trapps by the end of the year. I'm trying to stay motivated and to seize whatever opportunities I get. If the high is above 40 degrees you can expect to see me out there!

I hope I'll see you out there too, working on whatever your own personal project may be.

Red Rain

(Photo: That's me on The Fury (5.11c) at Bibliothek, Muir Valley.)

It is an annual tradition: the autumn climbing trip. 

Every fall, I break away from the family for a long weekend and I climb for a few days in a row.

This year I decided to join my friend Gail in the Red River Gorge. For several years, she has spent a chunk of October there. This year, she planned to be in the Red for an entire week. I couldn't imagine taking a whole week away, but Gail was happy to allow me to join in for just three or four days. I would have ready partners in Gail, her son Max, and also Nancy, a friend of Gail's with whom I have climbed in the Gunks on a few occasions. Nancy (like me) was planning to spend just a few days in the Red, so we were natural partners for the trip.

This was to be my second visit to the area. When I last visited the Red, in 2014, I didn't exactly fall in love with the place. At the time, I wasn't a sport climber. I had no real interest in becoming one. My longtime partner Adrian was there with me and, since he is a traddie like me, we spent two of our four days in the Red at trad crags climbing (wonderful) moderates. We didn't avoid clipping bolts entirely, of course, but in our short time in the Red we didn't get that strong a sense of what the area has to offer.

That was a long time ago. In the three years since I first visited the Red, I've become much more open-minded towards the sport-climbing lifestyle. A fun trip to the New River Gorge with my partner Andy in 2016 made me look at clipping bolts in a new light. I felt inspired by the sport routes in the New, and challenged in a way that made me realize that if I spent some more time sport climbing I might improve as an all-around climber. I started to think that if I returned to the Red now, I might get a lot more out of the experience.

So I conceived of my latest trip to the Red in 2017 as a pure sport-climbing mission. 

I had one goal in mind: I wanted to send a 5.12. I had no idea whether this would be within my abilities. But it seemed to me that I might have a shot at it.

All of my friends from the gym spend their weekends sport climbing at Rumney. In the gym I hear them talk all the time about the 5.12's they are doing. I think of these people as my peers. If they can do it, I should be able to do it, I reckon. By the transitive property of climbing, I ought to be able to send 5.12 sport routes too. 

Even though it isn't the kind of thing I ever do. 

So what if I don't go to Rumney every weekend? So what if I've never sent a 5.12 outside?

I've never really tried.   

Maybe if I put some effort into it, I too could climb 5.12. And then I too could talk in the gym about the 5.12's I'm doing.

I hoped that in the Red I could find an appropriate (i.e., soft) 5.12, and maybe over the course of a day (or two?) I could get close to a send, after a few tries.

So I started poring over the RRG guidebooks looking for likely candidates. And I ran into a problem: I kept noticing fabulous-looking trad lines. Every sport crag at the Red seemed to have at least a few.

How could I pass by these wonderful climbs?

I couldn't. I am too much of a trad guy at heart.

I knew that Nancy had similar feelings. (She has taken several trips to the New in which she has only climbed trad!) So when Nancy and I talked about the upcoming trip, we decided without much debate that we were bringing the trad rack.

As our time in the Red approached, the forecast got more and more unfavorable. I was hoping for typical October weather: chilly mornings and sending temps throughout the day. I wouldn't have complained about a little rain, since in the Red there are crags that stay dry in light rain. But we were looking at more than a little light rain; it was going to come down hard, for several days in a row. And the temperatures were going to be hot, in the mid-eighties! It was hard to imagine worse conditions.

At least our first day was scheduled to be dry. Nancy and I tried to make the most of it. Gail and Max had already been in the Red for a day by the time we arrived, and they were staying for a whole week. They could afford to wait out the bad weather. Nancy and I, on the other hand, had no time to waste, so we headed out early on our first day to try to accomplish as much as we possibly could.

We went to the Roadside crag. It looked like a stellar destination to me, with great stuff for tradsters and bolt sniffers alike. 

Nancy and I warmed up at the 5.10 Wall, where several 5.10 sport climbs sit all in a row, one after another. We did two of them, enjoying ourselves, feeling good. 

(Photo: Nancy is leading A.W.O.L. (5.10a) at Roadside Crag.)

These climbs were nice enough, but the entire time we were there I couldn't stop staring at the nearby trad route Synchronicty (5.11a), a leaning, overhanging finger/hand crack that just begs to be climbed, right in the middle of the wall.

I couldn't wait to give Synchronicity a try. And once I hopped on it, it did not disappoint. The crux section of this climb comes right away. The climbing is both technical and very steep. It isn't too far to the jug at which things start to ease off, but it is tense the entire way up to that point. 

Unfortunately for me, I didn't get it clean. I got a little flummoxed after a few moves, at which point I threw in a panic piece and took a hang. Then I worked out the move and went straight to the jug. 

(Photo: Nancy following my lead of Synchronicity (5.11a) at Roadside Crag. She has almost reached the jug.)

Having done it once, I'm sure I could get the send on Synchronicity if I ever make it back to Roadside. I think Nancy sent it as the follower, if I recall correctly. Even though I didn't get the on-sight I was happy that I'd had no hesitation about jumping on a trad 5.11 at an unfamiliar area.

By now it was already pretty warm and I knew that if I wanted to try a 5.12 there was no time to waste. We were supposed to be sport climbing, weren't we? We turned our attention to Ro Shampo (5.12a), a very popular sport route, considered soft for its grade. I decided to attempt the lead.

Looking at Ro Shampo from the ground, it didn't look so bad. But once I got on the wall, it became clear very quickly that this route is radically overhanging. Most of the holds are jugs but it is a challenge just to hold on through the steepness, especially at the tricky crux, where you make a big move into a hueco at the mid-point of the climb.

(Photo: That's me, setting up for the crux on Ro Shampo (5.12a) at Roadside Crag.)

Once again, I failed to get the send. I couldn't decipher the crux right away and had to work at it, trying it from a couple of different angles, and taking a few hangs, before I made it through. As with Synchronicity, however, now that I've done the route, I think if I went back (especially on a cooler day!) I might have a fighting chance at the send if I stick the move on my first try. After the one move it is all about hanging on.

(Photo: Nancy on Ro Shampo (5.12a) at Roadside Crag.)

After Nancy went at Ro Shampo on TR we were both kind of pooped so Nancy led us up a beautiful, ultra-classic 5.7 hand crack called Roadside Attraction. The crack starts out at a very low angle, but after you jam up to the first ledge the crack continues, with more great jamming in much steeper territory. This impeccable pitch has gear available literally everywhere, but I would advise you to bring as many gold and blue Camalots as you own and to save some for the second half of the pitch. You will definitely find a place to use whatever you have.

(Photo: Nancy on Roadside Attraction (5.7) at Roadside Crag.)

The day was starting to slip away from us and I had one more big pitch in mind for us, a sport climb called The Return of Chris Snyder (5.11d). My frequent partner (and RRG expert) Andy had told me this was one of his favorites.

The pitch ascends a technical, shallow dihedral and then embarks up a steeply overhanging, honeycombed rock face. I've come to think of this type of face climbing as the trademark style of the Red (though of course the Red contains many different styles of climbing).

(Photo: I'm looking for holds in all the wrong places on The Return of Chris Snyder (5.11d) at Roadside Crag.)

There was a party already on Chris Snyder when we walked over to it, and we watched as the leader attempted (and failed) to get the redpoint. The climbing didn't look too bad to me. I thought that maybe I could get the send on this one, if I just moved quickly and held on. But then when I got my shot at it, I wasn't even close! I found out pretty quickly that I wasn't used to this style of climbing. The rock has wonderful holds, once you find them. But I was looking in the wrong places. Often features that appeared to be jugs were actually slopers, and while I was foolishly pawing at the sucker slopers, I was overlooking great sidepulls and underclings. And the climbing was so steep that every time I made the wrong choice I would find my arms flaming out fast. It was hard to find a way to rest and regroup.

(Photo: Nancy in the shallow dihedral before the big roof on The Return of Chris Snyder (5.11d) at Roadside Crag.)

I had to hang repeatedly on Chris Snyder. Nevertheless, I loved the climb. The early going up the dihedral is interesting and a bit tricky, and then, wow! It changes abruptly into a very different animal for the second half. I found it humbling, and tried to see it as a valuable learning experience.

Nancy and I had been going hard at it all day, and it was quite hot whenever we were in the sun, but we still had some time left and Nancy and I did not want to waste any part of what was likely to be our best day in the Red. We wandered over to the left side of the crag, hoping to warm down with an appealing trad climb in a corner called Andromeda Strain (5.9+).

We found it occupied, but as we looked around at this relatively sleepy portion of the cliff my eye was captured by a different climb called the Mantel Route (5.10c). This mixed climb gets five stars in the guidebook. It appeared to be challenging, with a low bolt followed by a long stretch of gear-protected climbing on a seemingly blank face. I was willing to give it a shot.

I was very happy we decided to do it! This wasn't the toughest climb we tried, nor did it end up being my hardest send in the Red, but I remain proud that I on-sighted this pitch. True to its name, this climb requires repeated, thin mantel moves. The climbing is technical and the gear is tricky, especially between the first and second bolts, where if you pass up any potential placements you could be at risk of a ground fall. 

(Photo: I'm past most of the difficulties on the Mantel Route (5.10c) at Roadside Crag.)

This sort of climbing, with thin, delicate moves and gear placed under pressure, is one of my favorite things. I didn't expect to find this kind of experience at the Red, where most of the trad routes seem to follow vertical cracks with mindless pro. Not that there's anything wrong with mindless pro. I can appreciate mindless pro. But when I'm slotting a tiny nut, sideways, while holding on to a sloping dime edge with my other hand, that's my (twisted?) idea of heaven. If you feel the same way, you should check out the Mantel Route. If it isn't your cup of tea, well, I don't blame you. You should go climb all of the other routes.

As our first day in the Red came to a close, I wasn't feeling satisfied with how well I'd climbed, but I was very happy that we'd come. At Roadside Crag we'd found amazing and varied routes, both sport and trad. We'd climbed several classics that I will be excited to come back to try to redpoint. And though I didn't get the on-sight on the hardest routes we tried, I was pleased with my lead head. I'd attacked 5.11 trad and 5.12 sport without hesitation. This was a good sign, I thought.

With a little more acclimatization to the style, I felt like I could start racking up some good sends here.

Unfortunately I never got the chance. The rest of our trip sucked.

The rain arrived that evening and it came down pretty steadily for the next thirty-six hours or so.

We tried to go climbing anyway. As I kept telling myself, the Red is known for crags that stay dry in at least a little bit of rain.

On our second day, we headed to Bibliothek, a wall in Muir Valley. The guidebook said this was a good crag for a rainy day. Gail and Max came along too, joining Nancy and me.

It was my first time in Muir Valley, an area that Gail likens to Disneyland. I think she says this because Muir has a well-trimmed, landscaped air about it. And the climbs are labelled for you, with discreet tags at the bottom. Also they keep a stash of stick clips at the entrance so you don't even need to bring your own. As a climber, you feel pampered at Muir.

But the comparison to Disneyland only goes so far. I was very disappointed to learn that there is no Monorail at Muir Valley. We had to hike for half an hour in the rain to get to Bibliothek, only to find when we finally got there that practically all of the climbs were soaking wet.

(Photo: Gail at the tricky crux of 100 Years of Solitude (5.11a) at Bibliothek, Muir Valley, with Nancy belaying.)

We did what we could do. We all took a turn on 100 Years of Solitude (5.11a, not bad, tricky low crux), and I led a really nice overhanging, honeycombed route called The Fury (5.11c). It was similar in style to the upper half of Chris Snyder. On my first effort I still felt unaccustomed to this type of RRG climbing. I took a hang or two. But then I decided I might as well lead it again, since there was so little we could do in the rain. 

(Photo: The Fury (5.11c).)

When I tried The Fury for the second time, I felt like I was finally starting to get the hang of this sort of route. I sent it easily, without any problem. 

And then we trooped on out of there.

The Fury ended up being the best send I would accomplish at the Red. The weather was so bad I never tried anything harder. 

It continued raining overnight. By the morning of day three it started to look like things were clearing up. Nancy and I decided to drive out to the Chocolate Factory, with no illusions that the climbs would be dry. We were hoping that things might improve a little bit as the day progressed. And maybe we'd find a climb or two that was worth doing?

As we drove to the PMRP the rain started back up again.

We carried on anyway. We parked and hiked over to the Chocolate Factory, only to find that everything there was sopping wet. Nancy and I hiked back out, meeting Gail and Max in the parking lot. They convinced us to go have a look at the Motherlode, but before we even started down the trail we encountered some other climbers who told us it was just as bad as the Chocolate Factory.

So we got back in the car and drove a little bit further into the PMRP, heading to the Drive-By Crag. I'd been there in 2014 with Gail and Max, during a heavy storm. Having been at this crag in the rain, we knew that there were likely to be some climbs that were dry. 

(Photo: Nancy on Deeper is Better (5.10b), Drive-By Crag, PMRP, with Gail belaying.)

We ended up having a decent day, though the conditions were bad, as we expected them to be. The rain finally stopped but then it grew so hot and humid that it might as well have been raining. Many of the routes were climbable, but everything seemed covered in a layer of slime. We ended up spending most of our time on the same tens and elevens I'd done here in 2014.

(Photo: Max on Whip-Stocking (5.11a).)

All day long I kept looking at Primus Noctum (5.12a), a climb I'd stumbled into attempting three years ago. I wanted to give it another shot but it was clearly wet in its lower sections. I ended up not bothering.

Late in the day, I was feeling kind of depressed. It had been my idea to go to Drive-By, but I wished we'd gone somewhere else, to try something new. I was bored by the climbs we'd done before, but I wasn't psyched on trying anything hard, given how greasy everything was. There were other, more intrepid climbers than us at the crag, going at 5.13's even though they were wet. I admired these climbers and felt inadequate.

Just then it occurred to me that there was a whole wall at the right end of the Drive-By Crag that I hadn't seen. I suggested we go over there to have a look.

Checking out the slabby routes in this sector, I knew they would be wet, since they hadn't been sheltered from the rain. But I thought that if we picked one of the easier 5.10 routes, it might be a nice change of pace despite the lingering dampness.

I hopped on one of the 5.10's and immediately found myself desperately jamming a soaking-wet vertical crack. I didn't remember reading about this crack in the description. Once I got through this section, I was unnerved to find myself smearing on a damp, featureless slab. It was tough going! It wasn't long before I had to stop and hang.

(Photo: Wet jamming on a 5.10 (??) at Drive-By Crag, PMRP, with Gail and Max looking concerned.)

I tried again and made some progress, but the next moves didn't seem any easier. I'd expected wetness, but forget the wetness, this climb was just plain hard! Every move felt a bit desperate. Was this really a 5.10? 

Max looked up and noticed a bail link on one of the bolts up over my head. 

Uh-oh, I thought. This meant the hardest part was up there, still to come! 

Eventually we figured out that I was not on the 5.10 I thought I was on. I was actually on a climb called Giblets (5.11c). The guidebook says you should expect to be "bitching about no holds" on this route, and they're not kidding.

After much sweating, swearing and hanging I made it up to the bail link and lowered off. 

I think everyone was much relieved when I threw in the towel. But this is a route I would love to try again, when it is dry. I thought the movement was great. I even figured out the crux high-stepping move at the bail link but then I was unable to use the damp, tiny sloper holds that came afterwards, which is when I finally gave up. 

I'm sure everyone else in my party was horrified by Giblets but I was energized by it. Here was another interesting, challenging route I'd love to revisit in the Red. It is technical. Working on it would make me a better climber. For me it salvaged the day.

Nancy and I had just one more half-day to spend at the Red. It seemed like the rain was finally over but we were sure to find some wet rock, wherever we went. We decided to check out The Zoo, a crag with a pretty quick approach. We didn't have tons of time but I was hoping that maybe I could try either Scar Tissue or Hippocrite (both 5.12a) before we left.

Unfortunately the twelves were quite wet. Other routes were a bit drier.

We got started by doing two of the tens. Put My In The Zoo (5.10b) is a nice slabby route. The hardest moves, at the bottom, were wet, but both Nancy and I managed to get it done.

(Photo: Nancy on Put Me In the Zoo (5.10b).)

We also enjoyed One Brick Shy (5.10c), which begins with a steep roof pull off of a block at the base. After that the climbing eases off a bit but it is still fun.

By now I was getting much more accustomed to the overhanging routes at the Red. I put up Geezers Go Sport (5.11b) without a hiccup. It felt very casual. It made me sad, thinking of what I might have done at the Red if the weather hadn't been so unfavorable.

(Photo: I'm climbing Geezers Go Sport (5.11b).)

With our time running out I finished our trip with the next route to the left, Monkey in the Middle (5.11a). This was actually more difficult than its 5.11b neighbor because the holds leading up to the first bolt turned out to be slimy wet. I ended up skipping some soaked intermediate holds, doing a dyno to hit the jug next to the bolt. Fun! After that the route was dry and enjoyable. Nancy didn't like the looks of this one and we were out of time anyway, so I cleaned it on the lower and we headed to the airport.

Even though the weather was unkind to us, I still had a great time in the Red River Gorge. The climbing I was able to do was fabulous. I was thrilled to find a variety of climbing styles, often within one crag. I loved both the trad and the sport. It was also great to spend the time with good friends. Gail's rental cabin was a most agreeable place to stay, and she played hostess, planning all the meals and generally taking care of our group.

I didn't really get a chance to find out what I could do in the Red. But I will be excited to go back again and find out.

A Trip to the California Needles

(Photo: View of the Magician (on the left) and the Djin Needle (on the right), from the top of the Charlatan.)

Why the Needles?

Several years ago I came across some photos of the area (On Denis O'Connor's website) and I was immediately smitten. Ever since then, I've been dying to pay a visit.

It is a beautiful place, located in Sequoia National Forest at an elevation of over 7000 feet. The otherworldly, pointy rock formations seem to leap out of the surrounding hills, offering sweeping faces of flawless granite, broken only by perfect vertical cracks. The stone seems to glow with patches of fluorescent-green lichen. The surrounding landscape is filled with majestic green trees. Way off at the horizon, snow-capped Sierra peaks provide a backdrop.

(Photo: View of the summit of the Warlock, from atop the Witch.)

I've long been drawn to the Needles. But I've also been a little bit afraid. The area has a reputation as a hardman's crag, a destination for serious climbers. The remote location leaves you alone to manage your own affairs. Help is miles away. And the climbs are hard. The faces are steep and the climbing is sustained. The cracks go on and on, making for long pitches with move after move of the same difficulty throughout. There are only a few entry-level classics in the 5.8/5.9 range. Most of the climbs are harder, and the grades are super old-school.

The style of climbing is what you'd expect from granite: vertical cracks and slabs, i.e., not what I'm used to. I'm not confident on granite. I don't trust my toes the way I do when I climb on Gunks conglomerate. I need more practice on granite than I've been able to get.

(Photo: The upper portion of the West Face of the Witch, with the Warlock peeking over her shoulder. Taken from atop the Sorceror. If you click to enlarge, you can make out a climber (dressed in white) seconding the last pitch of Igor Unchained (5.9).)

This year I figured it was time to check out the Needles, whether I was ready to "crush it" there or not. I was sure that with the help of my longtime partner Adrian (who loves crack climbing), we could get up whatever we chose to climb, one way or another. Between the two of us we had the experience and the knowledge to deal with whatever challenges the Needles would throw our way.

If only we could get there! We planned our trip for Memorial Day weekend. As the date approached I kept seeing posts on Supertopo and elsewhere suggesting that the roads around the Needles would not yet be open. It had been a snowy winter and there were a lot of armchair rangers on the internet predicting a late start to the season.

Adrian and I almost called the whole thing off, but ultimately we decided to have faith. Even if we had to walk a few extra miles, we could still climb at the Needles. We'd just have to work a little bit harder for it.

(Photo: Adrian standing on the old staircase to the fire observation deck atop the Magician, which burned down several years ago.)

My plan was to fly in to LAX and then drive the three-and-a-half hours to Camp Nelson (where we'd rented a cabin) that same night. My flight was supposed to arrive at around 7:00 in the evening. Assuming an on-time arrival and a little bit of luck at the rental car counter, I hoped I could get to our cabin before 1:00 in the morning. Adrian was driving in from Vancouver at the same time. Once we both arrived, we would climb for the next four days.

My brilliant plan was thwarted from the get-go when my flight out of New York was delayed by six hours, for no reason that I could discern. No one at the airline seemed to feel the need to explain, even when I asked. I ended up arriving in Los Angeles just after midnight.

I decided to soldier on and to drive through the night to our cabin.

But first I needed to pick up my rental car, and the counter was a nightmare. There was a line winding around the inside of the rental office and then out the door. I ended up waiting there-- no exaggeration-- for TWO HOURS.

I finally hit the road at 2:40 a.m.

With no place to stay in Los Angeles, it seemed pointless to do anything but drive.

I made it about an hour outside of LAX before I decided I just couldn't keep going. I was exhausted. I pulled into a gas station and crashed in the back seat.

When I awoke about an hour later, I bought myself some terrible coffee and got back on the road. The day slowly dawned as I tore up the highway towards the Needles.

As the sky brightened, I got a gander at the surreal landscape through which I was driving.

California's long drought had clearly devastated this part of the state. The land was so brown, I felt as if I'd landed in Saudi Arabia. I even spotted some oil rigs!

But occasionally citrus farms would appear, in perfectly rectangular islands of irrigated wonder. These green oases seemed out of place. To all appearances, this was not an agricultural land of plenty. It was a post-apocalyptic wasteland.

Soon enough I was through it, ascending a very windy road up a pretty river valley towards Sequoia National Forest.

I arrived in Camp Nelson at 7:00 a.m. I was fashionably late, but I'd made it.

I crawled right into bed and grabbed two more hours of sleep. Then Adrian made me breakfast and we headed for the Needles.

Day One: Igor Unchained (5.9)

We thought that the road to the Needles was still closed, which would necessitate a five mile hike just to get to the climbing. Since we were getting a late start, we decided to skip the Needles for the time being and instead spend our first day at Dome Rock, a nearby formation with much quicker access.

But as we drove towards Dome Rock, we passed the Needles road and found the gate wide open-- probably for the first time in 2017! This was a great surprise, and proof you should never trust the internet. We changed plans.

I turned onto the dirt road and found that for the most part it was in pretty good shape. We moseyed on down it just fine in our little Chevy Cruze. But about halfway down the road, we reached a big muddy rut that we decided we couldn't pass. A couple in front of us had just ripped a drip pan off of the bottom of their SUV trying to get by it. We didn't think it was worth the risk of doing the same to my rental car, so we parked and walked the mile and a half down to the end of the road, and then the two-mile trail to the Needles.

We had arrived. And it was beautiful.

(Photo: First view of the Magician as you approach the Needles from the trail.)

I didn't know where to start. As we worked our way around the huge slab known as the Magician, I tried to figure out how to approach the climbs I'd read about. Looking into the notches between the formations, I (mistakenly) thought I spotted some climbers on Spooky (5.9), one of the climbs on my list. So we went a little bit further and scrambled down to the start of Igor Unchained (5.9), a four-pitch climb on the formation called the Witch.

I volunteered for pitch one, an endless hand crack.

Not long after getting off the ground, I realized I was looking at 150 feet of placements for blue and gold Camalots and little else. But I was carrying just two of each.

I was also feeling nervous, which made me want to place gear constantly.

(Photo: That's me, leading pitch one of Igor Unchained (5.9). Photo by Adrian.)

At least the jams felt good. The rock was perfect and the climbing was great. I was just very slow. I kept leap-frogging pieces, trying to conserve gear. Eventually I started hanging to retrieve gear from lower down, and then I started hanging just to hang. This pitch was a slog. I'm not proud of my performance.

But by the end of it I started trusting my feet on the textured granite, and I hoped the rest of the climb would go better.

Adrian tackled pitch two, which started with a brief off-width crack and then some thin, slabby moves up a corner. He handled it well, attacking the off-width directly. When I followed I found some footholds on the side wall which enabled me to basically climb around the off-width. The thin face moves that followed were thought-provoking, to be sure, but Adrian found good gear in the corner so there were no worries. It was another great pitch and totally different from pitch one.

(Photo: Adrian's outfit eerily matches the rock/lichen as he gets past the offwidth on pitch two of Igor Unchained.)

I led pitches three and four in a long single pitch, and by this time I was getting much more comfortable. I loved the steep, juggy climbing at the start of the traditional pitch three, and then felt pretty good about negotiating the technical climbing to the finish up a finger crack. The climbing seemed to go on and on; I placed almost our entire rack on this double-length pitch.

(Photo: I'm in the steep early going on pitch three of Igor Unchained. Photo by Adrian.)

As I reached the top of Igor Unchained, I wondered if I'd ever experienced a better 5.9. Every pitch had been fantastic. The climb has a bit of everything: hands, fingers, slabby moves, and juggy steepness, with great gear throughout. And the scenery was gorgeous beyond belief.

(Photo: Adrian topping out on Igor Unchained.)

Adrian had complained a bit about feeling the altitude while we were doing the climb. I hadn't noticed it at all while we were climbing, but as soon as we got back on the trail it hit me hard. I suddenly felt very tired and I was not psyched about hiking the three and a half miles back to our car. It ended up being a bit of a struggle but I managed to trudge all the way back, feeling like I couldn't catch my breath whenever we had to go uphill.

I collapsed into bed right after we got back to the cabin.

Day Two: White Punks on Dope (5.8+)

This six-pitch climb is often described as the best multi-pitch moderate route in California. Like Igor Unchained, White Punks on Dope is a varied affair, with many challenges. I was most excited to lead the crux fourth pitch, which ascends a smooth corner with a finger crack at the back. The fifth pitch, a blank slab pitch with only four bolts, also appeared to be quite exciting-- but I figured that after the crux pitch I would hand the lead off to Adrian for that one.

No need to hog all the best pitches, right?

White Punks on Dope is on a large formation called Voodoo Dome, which is part of the Needles but is most easily accessed by driving away from the usual Needles road for about an hour around the Kern River Valley, approaching the rocks from the opposite side. The hike in to the dome is less than a mile but it is an uphill, sandy path and it took us almost an hour.

We tried to get an early start but when we arrived at the base we found another pair of climbers hanging out, just getting ready to start the climb. I was momentarily miffed that we'd been beaten to the base, but it soon became clear that these two would not slow us down. They were a married couple and the husband was obviously some kind of 5.12 climber just doing this climb as a sort of rest day. He moved quickly and had no intention of falling. He started out with no belay at all. When he got about fifty feet up the 5.7+ pitch one, he placed his first piece, and only then did he ask his wife to put him on a "loose belay," which meant that she put the rope through a Gri Gri and periodically pulled out about twenty feet of slack. Then she continued to organize her pack, with neither hand on the rope.

The wife described herself as the tourist of the pair but she was obviously quite comfortable following and seemed very capable in her own right. I was proud that we managed to catch up to these two a couple of times during the day but eventually they pulled away from us and we didn't see them again until we ran into them near the bottom of the descent trail.

(Photo: Adrian on pitch one of White Punks on Dope.)

Adrian took the lead for pitch one, another long (190 feet!) hand crack pitch. He handled it well, although for some reason he decided to be on belay and to place gear at intervals of fewer than fifty feet. (What a chicken!) Following the pitch, I felt good, casual. I would kill to have crack pitches like this in the Gunks. In the Needles, this was just another hand crack, going on and on for miles in solid granite. At the end of the pitch came a surprise, a few polished face moves right before the belay stance in an alcove.

I led pitch two, which starts with a funky boulder problem right off the belay to escape the alcove. It is steep and in-your-face for a minute and then it is over. I elected to keep going into the pitch three chimney as well. It was fun and easy, with only a few 5.7 moves. I didn't experience much of any rope drag combining the pitches this way, and though combination was long it wasn't as long as pitch one-- it was probably 175 feet or so.

(Photo: I'm looking back at Adrian after doing the bouldery start out of the alcove on pitch two of White Punks on Dope.)

Now it was time for the 5.8+ crux corner pitch. I had already put dibs on it so I took the lead again.

It went well, though my tense state throughout made it more tiring than was necessary. The thin crack in the corner provided good finger locks-- and I locked my digits in there as much as I could! There were not many footholds on the off-vertical left wall. I suspected that a more gallant climber than I would have simply walked up the smooth face. But this was not my style. Instead I did my best to contort my body to take maximum advantage of little indentations for my left foot and tried whenever I could to torque my right toe into the corner for a little extra security.

My strategy worked. By the time I reached a rest stance at the halfway mark I started to feel like this pitch was going to work out just fine. At some point the angle started to ease and my lone remaining anxiety became whether I would run out of finger-sized gear before the crack ended. This was another pitch into which I dumped practically our whole rack.

(Photo: Adrian's photo of me most of the way through the crux pitch of White Punks on Dope.)

I thought I was out of the woods when I moved to the left for what the guidebook describes simply as a "5.6 lieback off a wide crack" which "runs it out to the belay."

Imagine my surprise when I saw that this so-called 5.6 lieback involved walking up the slick, featureless granite with no pro (the crack is too wide) for about forty feet to a ledge. As I got started, I could see that this was pretty easy climbing. Still, I found it terrifying. Slipping out of the layback seemed possible. The chance was not that high, but it was definitely above zero. This wasn't like a 5.6 runout in juggy territory in the Gunks; it was far more insecure, at least in my mind. And the runout was really long. The offhand, blase guidebook description didn't begin to do it justice.

There was nothing to do but to carry on. I got through the runout by telling myself to "just keep going" with every step. I tried to put out of my mind the length of the potential fall I could take if I slipped. Forty feet, fifty feet, sixty feet.... I couldn't help but think about the potential cheese-grater fall down the face, and when I finally grabbed the belay ledge I announced to no one in particular that I'd just done the scariest thing I'd ever attempted.

But I'd done it! Now I could relax, as it was Adrian's turn to lead the run-out slab pitch. I'd planned things out perfectly so that I would not lead this pitch.

Imagine my surprise (again) when Adrian arrived at the belay, turned to me and asked "You wanna lead this next pitch? I hate slab."

My first thought was that some impostor (perhaps a pod person?) had replaced my Adrian. The Adrian I know has spent his whole career climbing at Squamish, where slab is on the menu for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

My second thought was that if Adrian wasn't feeling it today we were surely screwed. I had no slab experience!

My third thought was "I should lead this. It will be good for me."

Pure slab climbing scares me, for the obvious reasons. There are no handholds and the gear tends to be widely spaced. I could see that the slab pitch we were now confronting was typical of the genre: a full-length pitch of utterly blank, slippery granite with just four lonely bolts.

Turning to Adrian, I said "It's only 5.8, right? I should be fine."

"Right," he said.

I tried to will myself to believe it.

After placing a piece as high as I could above our anchor, I stepped to the right onto the blank face and ventured upward towards the first bolt, which seemed very far away.

(Photo: Adrian's photo of me leading the slab pitch on White Punks on Dope.)

It wasn't so bad. I tried to be precise and found ripples and edges to stand on. Moving slowly and with increasingly intense focus, I continued upward, taking it one small step at a time, until I eventually reached the first bolt, clipped it, and breathed a great sigh of relief.

Having established a rhythm, I repeated the process three more times. As the pitch continued it moved diagonally up and to the right, which meant that if I fell I would travel in a pendulum arc down and across the slab. As I'd done on the previous pitch, I tried to push the possibility of a fall out of my mind, but the potential negative outcomes relentlessly crept back into my head. 

Nevertheless everything went fine. I kept on moving and didn't shake too much. By the time I reached the fourth bolt the climbing got a bit easier, up a shallow feature with some real holds to the belay ledge.

(Photo: Adrian near the end of the slab pitch on White Punks on Dope.)

I arrived at the ledge exhilarated and mentally exhausted. If pitch four had been the scariest thing I'd ever attempted, then this would have to have been the second scariest. But I'd gotten through it and now I could really relax.

The final pitch, which Adrian led, ascended another beautiful finger crack. It was quite steep for a few moves, with good gear, but then the angle kicked back and it was easy going to the top of the dome. Since I was done leading I considered the pitch an afterthought, though it is good and worthy of consideration in its own right.

(Photo: Adrian leading the final pitch of White Punks on Dope.)

As we descended around the back of the dome I felt deeply satisfied. This had been a great day. White Punks on Dope was one of the best multi-pitch routes I'd ever done. The climbing wasn't hard, exactly, but it had been challenging for the mind-- for my mind, anyway. This was a real granite climbing experience. Our team had handled it well and I had taken on all of the hardest bits. It was something I could build upon.

Day Three: Dome Rock

Adrian and I headed to Dome Rock for our third day of climbing. This big dome isn't technically a part of the Needles, but it is close by and would be a worthy destination all by itself, even if the Needles did not exist. There are several high-quality full-length routes to the top of the dome (in four pitches or so) and a number of classic single-pitch crack and slab lines.

I had my eye on a multi-pitch route called the Anti-Jello Crack. This seemed like a good route with which to up the ante to the next level. So far we'd done some 5.8 and 5.9 pitches. The Anti-Jello Crack has a pitch of 5.9+ and then the next one is 5.10a. I wanted to lead at least one 5.10 before we left the Needles. This seemed like a good route with which to do it.

Adrian handled the short, pleasant 5.6 first pitch up a hand crack to the base of the obvious, slanting 5.9+ pitch two finger crack.

I led pitch two and it was probably my best lead of the trip. It is a gorgeous pitch with sustained technical difficulty and great gear up the whole crack. I got it done cleanly but I probably made it harder for myself again, by milking the crack for footholds whenever I could, rather than simply trusting my feet on the slab. At the crux, just before the crack ended, the finger-locks shrank to virtually nothing and I had no choice but to smear my feet on the smooth face. I was unnerved but once I committed to the moves my feet stayed where I put them and I made it to a stance. 

(Photo: That's me leading the Anti-Jello Crack. Photo by Adrian.)

The pitch still wasn't over. After the crack ended I had to run it out through easier slabby territory to the bolted anchor. This climbing wasn't hard and I got through it just fine, but by this point all of the runout slab climbing had begun to take a toll on me. 

As Adrian followed the pitch I kept looking up at the corner ascended by the 5.10a third pitch. I couldn't see the crux-- it was around the corner. I had no idea what it would be like. 

(Photo: Adrian following the Anti-Jello Crack.)

I decided I wasn't up for the 5.10 pitch. My brain felt tired. Everything we'd been doing was so sustained. The 5.9+ we had just done was hard enough for my tastes! Adrian didn't want to lead the next pitch either so we descended.

We rounded out our day with a bunch of easier pitches. Adrian led the interesting first pitch of Arch Bitch-Up (5.8), which features a low traverse and then fun climbing up a corner. 

(Photo: Adrian making the thoughtful traverse on Arch Bitch-Up.)

Then we took the Tree Route (5.6) to the top of the dome (and the parking lot). This is a varied and beautiful route, with nice climbing throughout on cracks, flakes, and slabs. It is the only quality route in the whole area that is this easy.

(Photo: Adrian is all smiles as we cruise up the Tree Route with our packs on. The Needles are in the distance.)

I would advise caution, however, to any beginning leader out there who might want to hop on the Tree Route. Whenever it gets slabby-- particularly at the end of the first pitch and the beginning of the fourth-- the route has runouts. We weren't bothered by them, because the climbing was so casual.

(Photo: Adrian through the run out slab start to pitch four of the Tree Route.) 

After feeling stressed on Anti-Jello Crack, I was relieved to cruise through the rest of our third day. I hoped that maybe I'd feel refreshed on day four when we returned to the heart of the Needles.

Day Four: Spooky (5.9)

By this time the dirt road to the Needles had been smoothed out so we were able to drive all the way to its end. The two-mile hike seemed so much easier now that I'd adjusted to the altitude and gotten a few good nights' sleep.

Our first target was a two-pitch 5.9 called Spooky. After we finished with that I figured we might finally try a 5.10. There were a whole host of classics at that grade to choose from.

Despite the three days we'd spent in the Needles, we still didn't quite have our bearings and it took us a bit of wandering to find the top of the Charlatan, the formation from which we would rap to the base of Spooky. 

We wasted some more time searching for the rap bolts, which were hidden over an edge. When, after all of this, we were ready to descend, I peered over into the gap between the Charlatan and the Magician and felt a chill go through me. I could see how Spooky got its name. The wind was howling through the narrow canyon as Adrian lowered himself into the space between the formations.

(Photo: Adrian rapping in to the base of Spooky, with the Magician behind him.)

One of our ropes got stuck in a crack on the rappel, but with some work Adrian got it free. I rapped in without incident and we were finally ready to climb.

The route turned out to be great, and a pretty casual 5.9-- so long as you bring a big cam or two and aren't too upset about a little bit of offwidth.

(Photo: Adrian on pitch one of Spooky.)

Adrian led the first pitch, an excellent 5.8-ish handcrack in a corner.

Then it was my turn lead the crux 5.9 offwidth. It is only about twenty feet long, and then you reach a ledge and transition to face climbing.

(Photo: I'm testing the offwidth crack on Spooky. I'm still standing on the ledge but I've already placed a big cam over my head. Photo by Adrian.)

I wanted some real offwidth practice so I purposefully stuck my side into the crack and attempted it with offwidth technique, although I suspect many people lay it back the whole way. I fought with the crack (fun!) until I was about two thirds of the way up the thing, and then, upon finding a good edge inside of the crack, I said "screw it," stopped grovelling, and switched to laying back for the final bits. I had both a Number 4 and Number 5 Camalot with me and with a little bit of pushing the cams ahead of me I was basically on top rope for the whole excursion. You could get by with just one of these big cams; having two made me very comfy.

(Photo: I'm enjoying the weird knobs on the second half of Spooky.)

The rest of the pitch was wild and probably no harder than 5.8. The face above the off-width is covered in these crazy, fin-shaped, tufa-like knobs. From below it looks like there might be limited gear up there but actually there is plenty. Climbing the strange features on the face was great fun and I found it to be very different from everything else we'd done in the Needles.

After Adrian joined me up top we ate lunch, snapped some photos of climbers across the way on Igor Unchained, and watched with awe as some pilots in fighter jets did exercises up and down the canyon, corkscrewing their way past us with engines roaring.

We had time for another route, but at some point we both looked at one another and we knew we were finished. We were satisfied. We hung out atop the Charlatan for a while, soaking up the atmosphere one last time, before hiking out and getting ice cream sandwiches in Ponderosa.


I really loved the Needles. It was everything I hoped it would be. It is a wondrous, beautiful place, with outstanding climbing, and the remote location keeps the crowds at bay. In our four days there, Adrian and I got a great introduction to the area. We basically did all of the entry-level routes. I got some much-needed mileage on cracks and slabs, and I felt like I climbed reasonably well.

On our next visit, I'd like to work into the climbs at the next level.

Every time I go out west, I come back home saying the same thing. I need to get more practice climbing on granite. I have to make myself take the long drive to New Hampshire so that I can get the experience I want and need. If I can do it even a few times a year, I can go back to the Needles more confident the next time around and hit the 5.10 classics without hesitation.

I suspect it will be a few years before I can make it out to the Needles again. Until then, I'll go back to staring at photos of the place and daydreaming about these magical, glowing towers of rock, and the incredible climbs contained therein.