Gunks Routes: Te Dum (5.7)

(Photo:  the opening moves on Te Dum)

It was still winter, technically, when I got my first Gunks opportunity of 2011.  But spring seemed to be in the air.  The temperature had suddenly spiked up into the sixties.  The internet hummed with reports of great early-season climbing.

I couldn't wait to get out there. 

I was feeling pretty good.  I was perhaps in better physical shape than ever before, and I'd been climbing well in the gym. 

But it got colder as the the weekend began, and by the time my climbing day, Sunday, dawned, it felt like winter all over again.  As I drove up to New Paltz with A and M, I watched as the thermometer on my dashboard reported the dropping temperature outside:  32, 31, 30...

It bottomed out at 28 degrees just before we hit Exit 18.

Whatever, I wasn't worried.  The high was projected to be around 48 and I figured with the sun shining on the cliffs it would feel warm enough once we got into it.  I suggested to my friends that we head to the Nears, where the classics are piled deep, one after another, at the northern end of the cliff, closest to the road.  I was thinking of a couple good warm-ups for us.  One was Alphonse, a 5.8 climb that's really a 5.6 for all but one move.  Another was Te Dum, a 5.7 that I remembered as having only one 5.7 move on it: an exposed but easy crux step around a corner about two-thirds of the way to the top.  I was eager to get started and I volunteered for the lead. 

As we walked to the start of Te Dum we passed Broken Sling, a notorious 5.8 with a bouldery start and a poorly-protected thin traverse above.  Like Pavlov's dog I started salivating at the thought of getting on that one.  Then beneath our chosen climb I stared straight up at the crux downward-facing off-width that finishes the first pitch of Inverted Layback (5.9).  Boy, I'd like to do that one soon, I thought.  But first I have to knock off this easy 5.7.

We racked up and I headed skyward.  

The climb starts just left of the back of an open book, at a wide vertical crack system that passes two ledges on the way to a third.  At the third ledge, where the vertical crack system widens, you traverse to the right wall of the open book and head up past a few flakes to the crux move around a second corner.  Once you make the thin move around the crux corner a few jugs usher you up to a small ledge where a tree used to have slings around it, forming an optional belay station. This tree has lost its largest branch and these days hardly seems suitable for belay duties; in any event the rest of the climb is 5.4 and short. A rising traverse takes you out from under the roof over your head and then it's a couple moves to the top. Best to do the whole thing in one pitch.

As I started the climb, worming up to the first little ledge, I realized I was actually feeling very rusty after our long, snowy winter.  I wasn't used to real rock anymore, and neither my fingers nor my toes felt secure on the stone.  Even though the sun was shining directly on the rock, it still felt cold to the touch, and it may have been irrational but I didn't feel confident that my grip on the holds was solid. 

At the second little ledge, I found myself standing to the left of the vertical crack and couldn't figure out how to step up.  I had two pieces right there-- in fact, I'd placed four pieces of pro in about 10 feet-- but I confess I was starting to panic.  I couldn't commit to the move.  My fingers were feeling numb.  I told myself this was just season-opening jitters and to go ahead and step up, but when (after what seemed an eternity) I finally did so I immediately slipped off the foothold and down to the ledge on the right side of the vertical crack, where I should have been standing in the first place.  Now that I was standing two feet to the right of where I'd been standing a moment before, the move was obvious-- I'd fallen into the proper position.  The rest of the climb went smoothly.  The rock even started to warm up and by the time I got to the crux I cruised through it, as I'd expected I would. 

My verdict on Te Dum two years later: despite my jittery beginning, it's still, to my mind, an easy 5.7. The opening bit, up to where you move right, is a simple matter for anyone who isn't climbing (like me) with blinders on. Then a very easy and well-protected traverse (use the crack at the back of the open book for pro) leads to a couple nice moves up to the crux. One deep breath and a committing step will take you around the second corner to jugs and the optional belay. Then it's an exposed, 5.4 romp to the trees. A nice pitch, with more climbing on it than I remembered.

So much for starting the year feeling strong.  I'd secretly hoped the Gunks 5.8s would feel ridiculously easy as the year began, but that's just not how it works, is it?  You have to pay your dues year after year, make a few mistakes, get yourself a little scared, ask yourself why you're even contemplating this stupid sport. And then it all becomes fun again. 

The rest of my day went much better.  After my shaky performance on Te Dum I handed the lead over to A for Disneyland (5.6) and Alphonse (5.8), and these climbs did a lot to shake the slippery feeling off my fingers and toes.  Then I took the lead for the first pitch of Yellow Ridge (5.7), which I'd never been on before, and felt absolutely fine about it.  And then we hit Farewell to Arms (5.8), which A led and which I thought packed a ton of climbing into the short first pitch.  This was not an easy 5.8, but I'll write more about that and our other climbs of the day in another post.

We ended our day with a rope up on To Be Or Not To Be (5.12), which none of the three of us could even begin to conquer. As we flailed away at it I couldn't take my eyes off of Birdland, just to the right, another 5.8 that has somehow eluded me these past couple years. I prefer roof climbs to face climbs, and Birdland is definitely in the face climb category, at least for its first pitch. But for some reason it just calls to me, and I'm going to jump on that sucker soon. Something about it just looks so appealing, and knocking it off my list early this year just seems like something I have to do. Assuming my jitters really are shaken off.

Loving the Alien

I should not have succumbed to temptation. I knew better. But the other week I couldn't help myself. I bought a used Alien.

CCH is out of business. They don't make Aliens anymore. Who knows, maybe the things aren't put together very well. But a stranger on the internet was selling his blue Alien and I just had to have it.

I have a sentimental attachment to Aliens. As I've previously reported, a little green Alien saved my life. (Now that's a sentence I never thought I'd write.) When I broke my ankle in a lead fall, that green guy was my top piece and the blessed thing didn't budge a millimeter. Afterwards, I didn't know if I should retire the cam because of the stress it had been under, or whether instead I should place it on every pitch going forward because I now had proof it was one of the good Aliens! I ended up sleeping with the cam next to my bed on the night table for a couple months, and then I happily went back to using it.

I don't have a full rack of Aliens, just the magic middle ones: the aforementioned green and my two favorite pieces, the yellow and the gray. These three cams seem to fit everywhere, and I don't care what you have to say about perhaps-better-manufactured Alien clones like Mastercams, nothing else feels right like these Aliens. It may be the camming angle, the soft metal, the trigger design, or a combination of all three. But there's no substitute. In the Gunks I'll place them on practically every pitch and there are spots I wouldn't want to be in without them: the funky start to Alley Oop (yellow goes in the shallow horizontal), or twenty feet up Morning After (gray goes in the flaring downward-facing pod), just to name a couple.

My climbing buddy Vass also has a bunch of Aliens, including the big ones, so I've used them a lot too, and they're great. But I don't find the big ones as uniquely useful as the ones in the middle range. I would love to have the bigger ones to carry as doubles to my Camalots. Shortly after CCH stopped production, when the cams had pretty much disappeared from the stores, I paid a visit to Tent & Trails in lower Manhattan just to see if they had any Aliens left in stock. As luck would have it they had three: a red (which I really wanted) and two big ones, I think a gold and a clear. In an inspired bit of bargaining, I offered to buy all three from the gear guy if he'd give me a small discount. And he agreed. But then I did something I thought was an act of strength at the time: I walked away without buying them. I told myself I didn't need any more cams, and it was true! But I've regretted this decision ever since. I dearly wish I'd at least bought the red one, which is the next size up from the precious gray one. Oh why didn't I buy those Aliens when I had the chance!

Neither Vass nor I own the blue one, but I do have a blue Alien story. Two summers ago when my family had a house in New Paltz for a week, I convinced my wife and kids that we should climb together one day in Peter's Kill, a single-pitch area in Minnewaska State Park where it is pretty easy to set up topropes. My wife doesn't climb at all, and my kids sometimes do a bit of bouldering with me at the gym, but they have almost no outdoor climbing experience. Obviously none of them is capable of belaying.

I found someone to help us on Jannette Pazer's family climbing internet message board. Hensley lives in the New Paltz area and has a small child. On the day we got together she just wanted to get a couple of climbs in and didn't bring her baby. I forgot my guidebook, but Hensley already had an idea for an area in Peter's Kill she thought would be appropriate for us. I was expecting to walk around back and set up a toprope from above, but Hensley thought we might enjoy climbing on a detached feature affectionately known as the Scrotum Pole, which is separated from the main Peter's Kill wall by a gap. She told me I could avoid jumping the gap by leading up an easy 5.5-ish line on one side of the pole in order to set up the rope for the family, and when I scoped it out it appeared simple enough, so I agreed. I took Hensley's light rack with me for the pitch. I hadn't brought any cams or nuts, since I thought we were just going to be top-roping from bolted anchors.

So I set off on the pitch. I pulled a little overhang right off the ground, placed a piece or two, and continued upward. My wife was chatting amiably with Hensley and me. She had no idea that when I'm leading I usually find conversation unwelcome. I didn't say so, of course, because this was supposed to be a casual little day out to demonstrate how fun and safe climbing is. So instead of asking her to be quiet, I pretended I was happy to engage in some chit-chat while leading even though I was starting to find the protection opportunities on this particular climb a bit sparse. I did my best to play merrily along, but the spoken dialogue we had was accompanied by a very different inner dialogue going on in my head at the same time.

Wife: How are you doing up there, honey?

Me: Fine, fine! I think you'll like this pitch, the moves are nice!

I'm already in groundfall range, where's the fucking gear??

Wife: This is the first time I'm actually seeing you use those little doohickeys. I never understood how they worked before.

Me: The gear is small, but it's actually very strong.

Oh, there's a little horizontal crack. Does Hensley have anything on her rack that I can stick in there?? Please, please!

Wife: Now that I see how it works, it all seems much more reasonable to me.

Me: I'm so glad you're enjoying the show.

I can't believe I'm about to hit the deck in front of my whole family. I have to get something in that crack!

Wife: The kids want to scramble up that big rock over there.

Me: Have fun, and come right back! I'll have this rope up for you in a sec.

Oh thank god, this blue Alien fits. Thank you, blue Alien!! I love you, blue Alien! I'm not going to die today. I'm so relieved.

As it turned out, my daughter was scared by the initial moves on the route, my son refused even to try it, and my wife gave it a go but got freaked out when I lowered her too quickly for her liking. So my main goal, the conversion of my whole family to the climbing life, was thwarted. But my love of Aliens was further cemented.

I know there are wise people who have reluctantly stopped using their Aliens. There are good reasons to worry about using them, and I think I have a working understanding of what these reasons are. I just went back and re-read several incredibly long threads on several different websites in the hope that I could briefly summarize the potential problems with Aliens and justify to you why I keep using them. But the issues with the cams are too complicated for a brief summary, and my reasons for continuing to use them don't sound very persuasive when I actually try to articulate them.

I'll leave it at this: my Aliens are all post-recall, and I believe when my cams were made the company was making sure it no longer issued cams with the brazing problem that led to the recall of earlier units. As long as the brazing was done right, I'm comfortable climbing on the cams even if there are other problems that have been identified with them. I am aware that amateur testing has shown that my Aliens may not be as strong as their ratings would indicate, but I believe they are still strong enough for their intended use.

I could go into further detail about my reasons for this opinion, but I don't want you to think I am trying to convince you that Aliens are fine. I know my continued use of the cams is questionable, and that my rationale for leaving them on my rack involves leaps of faith that may be wholly unjustified. I don't encourage you to buy Aliens or use Aliens. I certainly don't propose that you should buy a used Alien from a stranger. That would be unbelievably stupid.

But my used blue Alien already arrived. It sure looks bomber...

And if you happen to be selling a red one...

I sure wish I could quit you, Aliens.



2012 Update:

Since I wrote this post, TWO companies have begun making Aliens again. Fixe bought the Alien name and machinery from CCH. And Totem started producing their own Alien clones, calling them Basic Cams.

I bought a full set of the Totem Basic cams as soon as they became available and I adore them, perhaps even more than my old Aliens, because I have total confidence in them. Unfortunately Totem is only making three sizes, the green, yellow, and a red cam that has been resized downwards to make it just a little bigger than the CCH gray Alien. Totem also makes two hybrid sizes, green/yellow and yellow/red, and since I bought these cams from Totem I have been LOVING them. These hybrids may now be my favorite cams. I thought they were specialty pieces that I wouldn't use much, but because they fit so well in pin scars and horizontals that aren't quite parallel I place them all the time.

The Fixe Aliens look and feel just like the old Aliens. I bought a new blue one just to check it out and I'm very happy with it. Knowing that Fixe's name is behind it gives me confidence that the cam is rock solid. Unfortunately Fixe is only producing a limited range as well, from blue to gray (with no hybrids). If they produce the tiny black one I will buy it in a heartbeat, and will also consider the big ones (larger than red) if they start making those as well.

A Half-Day in Sedona: Mars Attacks! (5.8)

Ah, the mysteries of 5.8. In the Gunks, a grade of 5.8 can be very serious. Hell, in an old-school climbing area like the Gunks, 5.4 can be serious. But in other, more recently-developed climbing areas, 5.8 often denotes a beginner's climb. In the case of Mars Attacks!, a stellar four-pitch 5.8 climb in the cliffs of Sedona, I found both sides of the 5.8 experience. Or maybe I'm just a dreadful slab climber.

I had the opportunity to visit Arizona in late January. My wife had a conference in Scottsdale and got the idea that I could meet her late in the week and we could have a romantic weekend getaway in Sedona. Plus on the Friday I would have the chance to get in a little climbing while her conference wrapped up. With the grandparents lined up to babysit, we were in business! All I needed was a partner for climbing, which I found on Gunks.com. A longtime regular on the site, C had moved from New York to the Flagstaff area several years ago. He couldn't take a full day to climb, but he suggested we could check out Mars Attacks! together, and once I read the route description on mountainproject.com, I was excited to try it out. It looked like a wonderful, varied outing in a pretty setting.

On the appointed day I drove up from Scottsdale to Sedona and met C in the middle of town. We then went in his AWD Subaru over the bumpy dirt road to the trailhead, and set off on the 20 to 30 minute approach hike for the climb.

Immediately, I was in heaven. The hike alone seemed worth the drive. I had never been in such a beautiful place. It was like I'd landed in God's own SUV ad, without the annoying presence of SUVs. I've spent some time in Red Rocks, Nevada, and it is pretty there for sure, but Sedona has it beat by a mile. The canyons in Sedona are filled with such gorgeous colors, and they seem to stretch on forever. This was the off-season, and I'm told it is sometimes rainy in January, but for us the weather was perfect, bluebird skies with temperatures in the high 50s to low 60s. Hiking up to the cliff I couldn't stop remarking at how amazing the surroundings were. As we arrived at the base of the climb I was already feeling it had been a successful day.

Then as we racked up I had to decide what, if any, part of this climb I wanted to lead. All four pitches are rated 5.8. C, who climbs 5.12, was happy to lead all four if I was too wimpy to do my share. Of course there was no way I was going to let that happen, but at the same time it was my first rock climbing trip outside since November. I was afraid I'd feel rusty. On the other hand, I had recently shed twenty pounds and felt I was climbing really well in the gym. And for goodness sake, this was sure to be an easy 5.8. This climb was put up in the last decade, by people who most likely felt any entry-level climb should be rated 5.8.

I looked up at the first pitch, which climbs a low-angled slab. It certainly looked easy from the ground, but I was a little spooked by the opening runout of at least 20 feet to the first protection bolt. I had also read of a sandbagged crux move at another bolt further up. And although I'd read about the basics of slab technique, I had basically zero experience in slab climbing. I had no idea what a 5.8 slab should feel like, or if I'd be comfortable doing it. I decided to let C take the first pitch, which turned out to be the right decision.

He zipped up it with ease but there was no doubt where the crux move was located. I watched C get through it and tried to commit the sequence to memory: a delicate high step, then one more thin move, and then the crux would be over. But I'm afraid it didn't work out quite as well for me. The whole pitch was a breeze except for these two steps. I arrived at the stance before the crux step, my feet on nothing, pasted to the slab with every bit of sticky rubber I could manage. I could see the little dish into which C had made the high step. I hesitated, glad not to be leading. Even with a bolt right there, I felt this bit of climbing was insecure and scary. Then I went for it, but I forgot two of the most important Rules of Slab: (1) you must keep moving, and (2) you must believe in your feet.

I didn't keep moving. I high-stepped into the little dish and froze. And then I lost faith in my feet, and I fell. Pissed off, I tried to jump right back into the stance and slipped off again. Then I took a minute to collect my thoughts, got back up, used the Force, and got through it, cursing my own ineptitude and worrying that C surely thought I was a total loser. "I need to find a way to practice slab," I told myself, "because that totally sucked."

Once I arrived at the anchor I was a little angry and determined to lead pitch two. This pitch features something any Gunks climber can handle: a traverse. The whole pitch traverses, 80 or 90 feet, on a limestone band around a corner to the base of a huge flaring chimney that is ascended by the climb's final two pitches. As I checked out the pitch, I felt pretty good about it. It looked like there were good holds and a good footrail running the whole way. I could also see that the whole traverse was protected by bolts, and it appeared to me they were reasonably closely spaced.

So I set off and thoroughly enjoyed it. This is a really nice pitch, with amazing exposure, and good protection. There are a couple places where trad gear could be fiddled in but there is no need, there's always another bolt just a step or two away. I found the pitch to have several exciting steps over gaps, but no real difficulty at all; in the Gunks this would be an amazing 5.5. On mountainproject.com some commenters call it pumpy, but I didn't find it pumpy in the slightest. I suspect some folks, freaked out by traverses, might overgrip like crazy on this pitch. But if you can enjoy the exposure and relax this pitch is a great, easy thrill. I loved every second of it.

Pitch three loomed above, presenting a new challenge: a fist crack at the back of a flaring corner/chimney. Looking up, I could see the crack widen to an off-width; further up the chimney appeared to close in, forcing you to escape out the top. I'd read that this was the real money pitch of the route, and it is a long one, nearly 200 feet, a full rope-length.

As C arrived at the belay he started to sort the gear, preparing to lead the pitch, but after hemming and hawing for a minute I told him I wanted to take it. I really wanted to lead another pitch and I knew that I would want C to lead the slab-climbing pitch four. So despite some doubts I had about my own crack-climbing abilities, I decided to take the lead again for pitch three. And I'm so glad I did. This was the most enjoyable pitch yet, full of beautiful moves on deep-red rock in a spectacular corner. Again I had trouble finding where the supposed 5.8 moves were. I'd seen this described as a crack-climbing pitch, but I found plentiful holds in little huecos on the side walls. Much like so many of the so-called "crack" climbs at the Gunks, neither crack nor off-width climbing technique was actually required. I threw a jam or two into the crack at the back just for kicks, but they really weren't necessary. And there was pro available at will in the crack. At the point where the chimney closed in I found the one somewhat tricky move in the whole pitch, and before I committed to the move I was able to place a perfect #3 Camalot over my head. It was a good feeling.

After the wonders of pitches two and three the final pitch was for me a bit of an anticlimax. C led up another 5.8 slab to the anchor. This time I found no sandbagged crux move, and I followed without difficulty, but still felt insecure on my feet and grateful not to be leading. Slab is a head game, and I clearly don't yet have the head for it. I must find a way to practice slab climbing. Maybe in New Hampshire? Or Yosemite. Must get to Yosemite. Perhaps Squamish, some day...

All in all Mars Attacks! is a terrific excursion, four varied pitches on good rock in a peerless, jaw-dropping setting. I can't say I've ever found a better moderate multi-pitch climb. At one point C described it as "the High Exposure of Sedona." And what he meant, I'm sure, is that it is the highest-regarded moderate climb in the area. But in one critical respect it is very different: there are no people around! We were there on a beautiful day and saw no other climbers, not a single one. This climb, which is an easy walk from a popular trailhead, and follows obvious natural features, wasn't put up until the year 2000! It is just a world apart from the Gunks. Local climbers, reading climbing sites on the internet, must see the threads about rudeness and crowding in Eastern climbing areas and just laugh and laugh. They have it all over us in many ways.

But hey, here in NYC we've got the ballet. And the museums. And delis. So fugeddaboutit, Sedona.

Ice Climbing at the Asbestos Wall

I am really feeling like I’d like to get more into ice climbing.

Perhaps I should have said this before my last post about ice, but better to say it late than never: I know very little about ice climbing. The last thing I want is for someone who actually knows a lot about ice climbing to stumble upon these ramblings and come away thinking that I regard myself as some kind of real ice climber because I’ve toproped short, picked-out beginner walls on four occasions in my life. Obviously, I know I am a beginner. In offering my thoughts I hope to offer a beginner’s perspective on ice, and not much more.

With that out of the way, let me tell you about my day with Vass at the Asbestos Wall in the Catskills.

As the day approached, I watched the weather, hoping it would stay below freezing this time. On my last ice climbing day the temperature had spiked up into the mid-forties, leading to very wet and potentially worrisome conditions. This time around there appeared to be no problems in that regard. The high for the day was projected to be just 14 degrees, which is less than the ideal temperature, since when it is so far below freezing the ice can be brittle and chip off in plates when you stick your axe in it. But at least I could expect that this time it wouldn’t be so difficult to stay dry, and I wouldn’t have to worry about melting chunks falling on our heads.

I proposed to Vass that we check out the Asbestos Wall, mostly because I believed it would be easy for us to set up top ropes. Neither of us was planning on leading. I of course have never led on ice, and while Vass has the screws and used to do it, our trip was going to be his first time on the ice in at least three years. So he just wanted to get a feel for it again and told me he’d prefer it if he didn’t have to lead.

I had never been to the Asbestos Wall, and in fact had never really considered trying it before because it has a reputation as an overcrowded nightmare, full of loud, inconsiderate gumbies hogging routes and hacking the ice into oblivion. It is also a very sunny wall and the ice tends to bake and get that milky/cloudy appearance that can signal poor conditions (hence the wall’s name). But since we were heading up on MLK Day, which is a Monday and a workday for many, I hoped it wouldn’t be too crowded. And with a forecasted high temperature well below freezing, this sunny area seemed like just the ticket.

When Vass and I arrived we immediately saw why the wall gets so crowded. The approach is incredibly easy. The ice is visible from the parking lot and the slope beneath the climbs is neither steep nor unpleasant. And although the sections of the wall aren’t terribly high—the tallest ones are maybe 40 feet, tops—they are generally vertical, with very few ledges or broken-up sections. Add to these virtues the ease of access to the trees atop the cliff and the place becomes a beginner ice climber’s dream come true.

All of this is provided, of course, that you have enough room to climb without fear of getting a rope dropped on your head. We met a woman at the wall who had tried to come the previous day (i.e., Sunday). She said her party had given up after being at the wall for less than an hour because they found the crowded conditions so miserable.

But on this holiday Monday we had no such issues. The woman I just mentioned was part of a group of three. There was a guided party and I think two other pairs at the wall all day. We found plenty of ice to share with this small group of climbers and had ourselves a great time. We set up ropes on three different sections of the wall over the course of the day, and at each section we were able to pick out three or four different lines to climb. We had no trouble getting a section of the wall to ourselves any time we wanted it. There were ample signs of the wall’s popularity; most of the climbs we chose had obvious pick markings, and some would have benefitted from some time alone to recover. In the most extreme cases there was evidence that fragile lower sections of the wall had been kicked out by clumsy, rough climbers who came before us. But there were some fat columns we climbed on which there was no evidence of prior climbers, most likely because these particular sections have so much water flowing through them that holes fill in and freeze over very quickly. We tried to find the least hacked-up lines we could, and took care not to cause further damage to any of the more fragile features we found. We had a fun day, one I’d repeat without hesitation. Even though the temperature was quite low we were in the sun until the late afternoon, and had no trouble staying warm, which of course presents another issue with this wall on warmer days, when it must be difficult to evaluate whether the ice is in good condition.

So I would recommend the Asbestos Wall highly, but only to beginners, and only on a weekday, and only when it is quite cold. It really is a sign of how popular ice climbing has become that you can find five parties at this wall on a weekday. I would guess that a decade ago you might not have found so many parties at this wall over an entire weekend. Now, it seems the weekend crowding is so bad that this wall becomes unbearable.  Even during the week, I can’t imagine what this wall would offer a solid leader on ice. There are better, longer, less-crowded climbs within a very short distance of this wall. But for easy access to steep toprope climbs, it’s pretty hard to beat.

Climbing Resolutions for 2011

It's hard to believe we're already halfway through January.  The year has just begun and already I feel the opportunities slipping away.  It is high time I made a list of my climbing resolutions for the year.  So without further ado, here you go:

1.  Keep getting more fit.  In early December I published a lengthy post describing my plan to get in better shape and improve my climbing.  I talked about some simple things I could do to get myself in better shape and lose weight, and steps I intended to take to bring some discipline to my gym climbing.  And while I haven't quite implemented all of the steps I listed back in December, I have made great progress in a few areas. 

I started riding my bike regularly again in December.  Although the weather has been terrible for cycling, I've been plugging away at it indoors on my rollers.  In the past I've found this kind of riding to be a major drag, but for some reason I'm into it now.  I can't say why, but who cares?  It's working.  I'm riding all the time and I feel motivated to keep it up.  My endurance has improved a lot in just six weeks; I'm even entertaining thoughts that I might race my bicycle again in the Spring. 

I've also changed my diet.  I eat breakfast at home, and I bring my lunch to work every day, usually a salad with tofu or some roasted chicken breast.  It shouldn't be a big surprise that increased exercise plus better eating will lead to weight loss, but nevertheless I'm still kind of in shock at how quickly I'm losing so much weight.  Since early December I've dropped 15 pounds.  15 pounds!  I'm swimming in my clothes.  I think I can easily lose another 5 or 10 before my weight will be ideal, and I think it's best if I lose the next few pounds a little more slowly than I dropped the first 15.  I'm almost alarmed at how well it's going. 

As for my climbing, I have not yet started shifting my gym climbing towards more disciplined aerobic or anaerobic endurance sessions.  I still just go and boulder whatever's new or whatever looks good to me, or climb the toprope problems if I have a partner.  But I have started to approach my bouldering sessions with a completely different attitude.  In December I told you that I spent most of my time on V3 problems because I could usually do them, and that I intended to start focusing on harder problems and eliminate the invisible ceiling in my own mind that was stopping me from moving up into more difficult routes.  Shortly after I wrote those words I started to focus on the V4s at the gym, and I found out to my surprise that I can do almost all of them.  Sometimes right away, sometimes after some focused effort, but almost always I can do them eventually.  This has come as such a shock that the implications are still sinking in to my brain; it was only a few days ago that I suddenly realized I should really be working on V5s, since the V4s aren't just projects for me as I expected, but rather seem to be at my level.  And wouldn't you know it?  I picked out a couple V5s the other day and with a little work sent them both. 

I'm sure my better conditioning and weight loss have both played a role in my new success at harder routes, but I think a large part of it is also mental.  Without knowing it, I was holding myself back.  I resolve to keep up the good work and to keep getting more fit.  And I resolve to believe that when it comes to my climbing, anything is possible.

2.  Climb more ice.  I really enjoyed ice climbing on New Year's Day and I'd love to do more of it.  I'm heading out to the Catskills again tomorrow with V, and I hope to get a few more days in this winter with A, my partner from two weeks ago.  What I need to do at some point is acquire the gear, so I can stop wasting time stopping at Rock and Snow to rent the necessary tools.  So although my wife doesn't yet know this, I resolve to drop about a grand on ice climbing gear in the near future!  And then maybe it'd be nice to set some goals for next season, like the Black Dike on Cannon Cliff or something.

3.  Plan, plan, plan!  I want to do more climbing outside the Gunks.  I'm dying to get back to Eldorado Canyon.  I have to visit Yosemite before I get old.  Closer to home, I'd really like to do some climbing in the Adirondacks, and in New Hampshire at Cathedral & Whitehorse Ledges, not to mention the Red River Gorge in Tennessee and the New River Gorge in West Virginia.  These are but a few of the world-class climbing areas I need to visit.  I know I can make one or two of these areas a part of my life if I plan ahead to make sure any climbing trip I take fits in with other obligations.  I already have one trip planned in April, with A to Red Rocks in April.  I need to pick something ambitious for the autumn and start arranging it soon.

4.  Attack the Gunks with a vengeance.  If I keep working hard this could be my year.  I'm back, and this time it's personal.  I plan to go after the 5.9s in the Gunks in 2011 and maybe even some 5.10s.  I'll let you know how it goes.

A Day in Stoney Clove

Ice climbing sure is fun.

I have very little experience doing it. On New Year's Day I went up to the Catskills with Adrian for what would be only my third time trying it. I don't own any ice tools, crampons or appropriate boots, so I arranged to rent what I needed from Rock and Snow in New Paltz.

The forecast looked good as the day approached. It had been quite cold for weeks and the websites were reporting that many lines were in good condition. But then on New Year's Eve I started to get worried. Suddenly it was in the forties, in the city and up in the Catskills. The overnight low as 2010 turned into 2011 was above freezing. And the projected high for our climbing day had crept up all the way to 47. My last few rock climbing trips up to the Gunks in 2010 were on colder days than this!  I thought we might be wasting our time heading up there looking for ice. But Adrian thought it would take a few days for the ice to melt, so we decided to go for it despite the warm temperatures.

At Rock and Snow they gave me a pair of leashless Black Diamond Vipers. I had never climbed using leashless tools, so I asked if they had any leashes (the kind that attach to your wrist) for me. Instead, saying "leashes are overrated," the guy behind the counter gave me a spinner leash (which is more like a tether, attached to the harness, so the tools aren't lost if you drop them).  Then he advised us to look for shady walls, and we were on our own.

My partner Adrian has led a ton of ice over the years, but never here in the East. He was interested in some grade 3 or 4 climbs just to get his bearings. We set out for the Stoney Clove area, since there are so many different options there.  A was thinking we should check out the Little Black Dike (4-), which he felt he could comfortably lead, and while the dike is on the West (i.e., sunny) side of the road we thought it might still be in the shade given its corner location.

Upon arriving at the parking area, we got geared up and started back up the road to the top of the hill and the climbs.  But as we walked we got the sense that the climbs on the sunny, West side of the road might not be the best idea on this particular day.  The climbs on that side were baking in the sun, and not long after we began walking we could hear the constant sound of large chunks of ice breaking off and smashing on the scree below.  We were still on the road, near the top of the hill, when we decided to just head up to some East side climbs and see if the ice seemed more solid in the shade.

We scrambled up through what seemed like an endless pile of loose choss to get up to the ice.  Given the heavy snow that had fallen in the area just after Christmas, I was surprised that there wasn't more snow on the ground.  In places the snow was quite thick over the sticks and rocks, making it much easier to work your way upward, but there was lots of territory with no snow cover at all, and these uncovered patches were kind of miserable to work through.  Even though the approach was probably over within ten minutes, it seemed far longer. 

Once we arrived at the nearest attractive wall of ice, we roped up and had a nice enough time.  I'm still not exactly sure where we ended up.  In retrospect, using Molitoris' guidebook, I think we climbed on the unnamed flows of ice mentioned in the book between the East Side Corner and the East Crag Pillar.  We took a look at at least three different walls of ice, all of which had some nice steep flows, none of which were very tall.  The ice was reasonably fat and in the warm temperatures it was really very plastic.  Good sticks were easy to get. 

This was my first time belaying a leader who placed screws in the ice. As I watched Adrian leading, it almost seemed sane to me. At a couple of different walls, Adrian led up one route and then set a top rope from which we could try a few different lines.  Cleaning the screws was simple enough.  The idea of relying on them while climbing on lead... now that's a different thing.  It's something I'd have to consider after more than three tries at ice climbing, when I have more certainty about when my sticks are good and my feet are solid. 

I started out a little shaky with the ice climbing technique; my last attempt was two years ago.  On our first pitch I found the feet really tenuous and my arms started to tire quickly.  After Adrian gave me some pointers on lowering my heels so that all four front points of the crampons were engaged with the ice, my footwork improved dramatically.  I didn't take a single fall all day, although my feet did fail me a couple times, leaving me hanging by my arms.  In one spectacular sequence both of my feet skidded out, and at the same time my glasses fell off my face.  Somehow I managed to catch the glasses on my knee while hanging on with my arms.  Then I got one foot back on the ice while I kept the glasses balanced on my other bent knee, so that then I could let go of one axe, pick the glasses up off my leg and put them back on my head.  All without weighting the rope. 
 
In a less heroic moment later in the day, I managed to put one of my tools right through one of my ropes.  The rope wasn't severed but the pick definitely penetrated to the other side.  Since we were climbing with 9mm doubles, I wasn't worried that I wouldn't be held in a fall, so I just finished the pitch and then rapped using the other rope.  I wish I'd used my (limited) knowledge of knots; I could have tied the damaged portion of the rope into an alpine butterfly knot, taking it out of the system.  But I didn't think of it.  Now I either have to chop about ten feet off of the end of both ropes (to keep my doubles even), or buy a new pair. 
 
I loved the BD Viper tools.  Going leashless didn't seem like a big adjustment at all once I got out on the ice.  I felt really confident using them all day.  They felt good in my hands, very natural, and I never came remotely close to dropping one.  I'm strongly considering buying a pair, since they're on the cheaper end of the market for ice tools and I don't mind aluminum. 
 
Apart from my idiotic attempt to destroy one of my climbing ropes, there was one negative aspect to the day:  the wetness.  Because it was so warm, water was constantly running off the climbs.  I was wearing clothes I've happily climbed ice in before, in much colder temperatures.  I had a base layer, a fleece, and a thin water-resistant shell.  I had two pairs of gloves.  But it turned out none of these items was up to the wetness, and by the afternoon my shell was useless, and both pairs of gloves were soaked.  I was wet all over and I started to shiver uncontrollably.  We could have squeezed in another climb but I begged off and we headed back to New Paltz to return my rented gear.  We grabbed a bite at the P & G and I shivered all through dinner. 

I'm sure I'm making the day sound miserable but really it was a pretty nice time!  The best moment for me was when we climbed a very fragile-looking column, which you can see on the left side of the photo above.  It wasn't picked out at all but I was able to find several placements in depressions in the column that did not require a potentially damaging swing of the axe.  When I combined the gentle pick work with some delicate footsteps I was able to ascend the thing without destroying it, a happy surprise.  It gave me hope for an alpine climbing future that I might have, if I actually manage to ice climb a bit more often than once every two years.

New Ice Climbing Website: ClimbCatskillIce.com

It's been pretty frigid in the New York City area these last few weeks, which has got me thinking about ice climbing.  I have very little experience in it and I don't own the gear, but I'm eager to get out a few times this winter.  Given how cold it is all this week, there might be some good lines in this weekend in the the Catskills and the 'Dacks. 

It has just come to my attention that there's a brand new website dedicated to ice climbing in the Catskills:  ClimbCatskillIce.com.  In addition to regular conditions updates (which you can also find at the Alpine Endeavors website and on NEIce.com's forums), the creator of the site is adding guidebook features including topos to the most popular ice climbing areas.  It looks like a site worth watching, and I'm adding it to my list of links over on the right side of my page.