The Dirtbag Diaries does it again. Here’s another great podcast that will grab your attention. It grabbed mine, it made me cry (no joke! – and don’t make fun of me for it either!). This episode is a touching, inspiring story about Timmy O’Neil’s brother, Sean, and their climb of El Capitan. Sean lost the use of his legs when jumping off a bridges 17 years ago and shows here that he is not “confined” to a wheelchair. Check it out.
At first glance, I didn’t recognize the brown, dirt-covered face staring back at me in the mirror. I had just finished a thorough and intense 3-hour cleaning session on the object of my latest obsession, a crag half-jokingly called the Crag of the Century.
I love putting up new routes but last year I sensed that it was taking too much from me; too much blood, too much skin, too much sweat, and too much time. This year I promised to myself that I wouldn’t spend time putting up new routes. That promise was revised to, “well, maybe I’ll just focus on putting up one or two multi-pitch routes.” Then I said, “well, I’ll just put up routes on good rock that don’t require much cleaning.” That promise came to mind as I looked at the ghastly image in the mirror.
Last year I became optimistic and hopeful about the quartzite of Glenwood Canyon after developing the Dead Horse Crag. It opened my eyes to the possibility that there was good, quality, clean quartzite to be found. This spring, I found myself with time to burn and energy to spare so I hiked to the top of a quartzite cliff that had looked promising. “I’ll just rappel down the face to take a look,” I told myself. Quickly, I realized that the rock was harder than anything and the features looked amazing for climbing.
The problem, you ask? It’s true, the rock is hard and the climbing is super fun. But, the faces are cut by horizontal bands, perfect for plugging cams and shoving fingers into. They are also perfect for collecting eons of dirt, which much be brushed out and blown out. Do that a few times and you’re sure to get dirty, but I can handle that, it’s to be expected even. The other problem is there are bands of quartzite that are not solid, as if God’s kiln wasn’t quite working that day and didn’t cook the quartzite all the way. No big deal as the rock underneath is usually super hard but in 100 feet it can get pretty tiring and you start asking yourself, “did I clean that well enough or is that flake going to pry off in someone’s hands and spear their belayer?”
Crag of the Century or Quartzite Wasteland?
Crag of the Century? We’ll see. In the meantime, I may need to spend some reflective time thinking about goals and promises. That, or invest in a gas mask, goggles and a leaf blower.
“Quartzite climbing in Glenwood Canyon?” The question is usually accompanied by a quizzical stare of disbelief. For the vast majority of climbers in the Roaring Fork Valley, climbing in Glenwood Canyon consists of clipping bolts on the limestone of the Puoux and trad climbing on granite at No Name. The towering limestone/quartzite walls of Glenwood Canyon are a beautiful site for those passing by on Interstate 70 but are mostly looked upon with horror by climbers as a towering jumble of ugliness.
Read the rest of my guest blog at splitterchoss.com.
The first annual 5 Point Film Festival is coming soon to Carbondale. (See if you recognize the dude on their web page) Check out the trailer on their site, it will get you fired up for the festival or for your next adventure. Sorry, I’m having a terrible time embedding the video without it jacking up the rest of my formatting. Anyway, enjoy and I hope to see you there!
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.
You’ve probably already seen the news of Alex Honnold’s free solo of Moonlight Buttress in Zion National Park. A super impressive feat by any measure. What I got a kick out of was his description of Spaceshot and Zion: “…the routes are not that inspiring and the rock is choss, except for Moonlight. Spaceshot is mostly just dirt.” I guess it goes to prove that you can climb super hard but be a certified choss master. Personally, I’m always inspired by the beauty, serenity and adventure of Zion, particularly compared to the urban sprawl of Yosemite with its cars, tourists, and crowds. To each their own.
Our backyard, high on Treasure Mountain in the Raggeds Wilderness.
What’s a climber to do if they don’t live in the mountains? This Alpinist online article demonstrates the response of climbers in Kansas. Early in my climbing career, I also had to make the most of my surroundings in Iowa. There’s a scattering of good limestone climbing in eastern Iowa, including five minutes away from the farm where I was raised. Still, climbing in Iowa is made difficult by wet, humid weather and relatively short climbing seasons. Part of my answer to this was to build a small climbing wall in my dad’s barn. Short on money and climbing holds, I did my best to create a place to train when the weather wouldn’t cooperate. It worked. I made a huge jump in my climbing ability at this time by significantly increasing my strength, jumping a whole number grade for my hardest onsight within a few months. My technique still needed a lot of polishing but I was able to hold on and make use of endurance that I didn’t have before. I still have fond memories of the mornings, afternoons, and evenings spent in that place.
The sixth pitch of Desert Shield, Zion National Park.
I’m still trying to catch my breath after spring break. We returned on Sunday night after a fun-filled, quick week on the road. Thankfully, we were busy enough and isolated enough to not have Internet and phones, hence nothing new here. Now, I’m trying to catch up on the mass of emails I received while gone and while also whitting away at my to-do list. Before I have time to make a proper update, check out this interesting article about fixed pins. The topic came up while in Zion about their strength and reliability. Granted, you’ll find a variety of opinions about them but in Zion, you can see many fixed pins that are 30 years old and seem to be doing fine. Meanwhile, there are many examples of bolts that have pulled out of the soft sandstone in a few years. Of course, there are many stories of old pins breaking and holes left behind by missing pins, such is the case on Touchstone Wall right now. Somewhere, I read a more extensive review of fixed pins where they did some testing and they proved to be remarkably strong, although their correct placement is key, which is the same for bolts. I’ll have to find that article again.
We’ve got snow in the Roaring Fork Valley right now and it’s chilly, meaning the skiing is going to be a priority for a little big longer, but I am psyched for rock climbing. I’ve got 4 FAs tallied up this year and I just placed a big bolt order that is making my palms sweat at the thought of all the new projects. Anyway, on to my to-do list!
Also, check out a report of our spring break action at www.mikeandjoy.net.
