Okay, another break in the action ends. I’ve been trying to keep my head above water lately, or should I say snow with the April we’re having. The demands of teaching, my online masters, training for upcoming races, skiing, and climbing are filling my days. But, here we go with the first installation of the Iowa Files.
When you’re a climber living in Iowa you’re basically chomping at the bit to get on some rock. There’s few places in Iowa where you can be “15 minutes to the crag.” And, as was my case, if you’ve climbed for 2 months in Colorado during summer break, mostly toproping, you’re probably the most experience climber around. The whole formula adds up to some desperate, wild adventures from the great corn state of Iowa. Hence, the Iowa Files.
Spring Break 1999. We’ve been trapped on a small indoor climbing wall for months, bombarded by stray racket balls from the neighboring courts. Talk of real rock comes and goes, particularly around a keg on a weekend party, but otherwise it’s a distant dream. Skipping classes on the Friday before spring break is a foregone conclusion as four of us pile into a 1986 Chevy Celebrity affectionately dubbed the “CUV – Climbing Utility Vehicle.” The lack of trunk space is quickly solved by strapping a crash pad on top of the trunk. Loaded down, we punch it down the long, straight highways and interstates of Iowa.
The CUV – Climbing Utility Vehicle, outside Miguel’s Pizza in the Red River Gorge.
Within an hour of leaving Bryan falls sick as he takes on a ghostlike appearance. Every minute spent trying to help Bryan feel better is time when we could be finally climbing on real rock. Finally, we stop at Robin’s home near the Iowa-Illinois border and let Bryan take a long, deep nap in a bed. Anxiously, we sit in a circle in the living room, weighing our options, tapping our feet nervously. Bryan’s condition only worsens and we make the inevitable decision – we must sacrifice a man and go on.
“Sorry Bryan but I’m sure Robin’s parents are great and the second car will pick you up in a couple days.” Bryan is running a fever, looks like a corpse and I’m not sure he even comprehends what we’re telling him. “Do you understand, Matt and the others will pick you up in a couple days?” A weak nod is all the permission we need to leave Bryan and hit the road again. Sacrifices are tough to make but sometimes you have to make them when you’re a climber in Iowa.
We drive all night and the moment we arrive in the Red River Gorge we head for a climbing area and rope up. It’s cold but we don’t care and we quickly punch out a bunch of pitches before the snow starts falling. We giddily laugh as we finish our last climb in the falling flakes and then run down the trail when it really starts coming down. That night a huge storm of snow, rain, and sleet comes down. We awake to a couple inches of water in our tent. Sleeping on our crash pad we’re like a little island in a giant sea of water. Jeff hasn’t fared so well as his sleeping pad is overrun by the flood. This is not how spring break was supposed to go.

The Red River Gorge classic, Mississippi Moon.
We spend the entire day dropping quarters in a dryer to dry things out, build a rain fly out of tarp, and hike around snow covered trails. The next day is still too wet to climb and we bide our time, knowing that Bryan and the others will be there that night, which means we left Bryan behind for a few pitches of climbing. We’re sure that he would understand.
When the others arrive it’s after midnight andwe’re already fast asleep. They’ve crammed four people and all of their stuff in a 2-door Ford Escort hatchback, thus proving how resourceful and tough Iowa climbers area. They look like a bunch of sardines. Before heading to bed, Matt and Jeff decide to share a drink, in celebration. Their shadow casts itself on the wall of our tent as I see each take turns tipping back a box of wine, letting the stream pour into their mouths.
The next morning, we’re awakened by screams from our friend Christy. We’re sure she’s just being over-dramatic but quickly we break into hysteric laughter when the source is discovered. Matt has literally peed himself in the night and soaked through his sleeping bag and into Christy’s.
Ah yes, it’s going to be a fine climbing trip.
More Iowa Files stories will be coming soon, because there’s a lot more to be said about the life of a climber from the cornfields of the Midwest.