The Red is RAD!

I HAVE BEEN HEARING about the Red River Gorge for quite some time. A super-fun sport climbing gold mine with wicked hard sandstone, wicked steep overhangs, and 2,000,000,000,000,000 routes (including some great trad lines).
I've also been quite aware for some time now that, in all of my years of climbing, I'd never taken a trip by myself. I've driven by myself to meet friends, but I've never gone somewhere expecting to know no one. (Though I was prepared to go by myself to Spain last December, my friend Jon purchased a ticket to come with me about 45 hours prior to departure.) Given this, I've been feeling pretty lame and codependent about this- in the same way I'd felt lame and codependent before I could lead climb. Or read.

So, during the week of March 12ish, while all of my friends were headed south to sunny and beautiful Indian Creek, I was packing my bags to fly to the probably colder and rainier Red River Gorge... by myself. I went on good faith, trustingly placing myself in the hands of the greater climbing community.

My (now) friend, Andrew, (then friend-of-a-friend-of-a-.....) agreed to pick me up in Louisville and put me in the hands of his friend, Joel, who would then drive me to the Red, climb with me for a few days, and leave me for the week while he went back to work. Both of these guys were willing to do this purely out of good will. Thanks to them, I was able to fly solo, borrow their camping gear, crash at Miguel's, and climb my little forearms out without ever having to rent a car, pack a tent, or anything of the like.

In the end, it worked out nearly exactly as I'd hoped. Though Spring Break '09 clogged Miguel's with chillness, Nalgene bottles, bongo drums, helmets, and crappy acoustic versions of crappy-crap Ben Harper, I still enjoyed the hell out of the scene and met some individuals independent of the 15-passenger-outing-club-van scene. (Also met some cool people from within that scene, to be perfectly honest.)

Andrew and Joel became solid friends, both of whom I got to climb with twice. I also got to hang out with Andrew's son, who was way into protecting us with his light saber at the crag. I met lots of locals, all settled in for the season, just as the Indian Creek crew beds down in the desert. (Jealous!) I also got to hang out with two guys, Ian and Josh, who were good enough to give me a lift to the Motherlode one day, and with whom I spent more than one evening with a box of wine, hiding from the rain.

All told, it was a great trip. The first four (of 10) days were pretty brutal, weather-wise. Inches of snow on the ground the first day. Super-saturating rain each of the next three days --to the point where nothing was climbable, even the most steep and protected overhangs. Days 5-10 were beautiful, but I spent them battling gravity for lack of proper warm-up days on the early end of the trip. My camera also broke (lens malfunction), but I still got some photos from early in the trip. But I ended up going night climbing three times in order to try to replace some of the rainy days. 
But anyway. Apparently it was so much fun, that I'm going back again this weekend for three more days. Whoops!

Revival!

I've spent the last few months puttering around the corners of the southwest desert, pulling on lots of holds, dipping my hands and feet into a few cracks... Nothing remarkable, really. Just passing the winter, spending three days a week generating Vitamin D and eating Vitamin I. 

Now, my students are on spring break and, though I could barely resist a bikini-and-hair-gel vacation to Cancun, I'm headed to the Red River Gorge for 10+ days.

A very gracious friend-of-a-friend is finishing his day's work, and is coming to pick me up in just a few hours.

Meanwhile, I sit and marvel at the majesty of an airport angel-stallion. Stunning. 

Fly you blessed beast, fly.

40 Pitches in One January Day at... Indian Creek?

Yes. Indian Creek.

My friend Patrick Purcell, prolific first ascentionist and machine extraordinaire, celebrated his 50th birthday on January 30th, 2009.

My friend, Zac, and I headed down to help him put ropes up on as many routes as possible; his goal was to climb 50 pitches in a single day. Being an alpine ski racing coach in the midst of an intense season, and laden with laryngitis and a sinus infection, Patrick had two strikes against him in his pursuit of an already lofty goal... add to that the scanty daylight hours afforded by this deep-winter month.

The morning of the big day, we left our frigid Bridger Jacks campsite and forded the stream en route to Donnelly Canyon/ Supercrack Buttress. Waking up, we knew it was cold outside, and our thoughts were confirmed when, upon stream-crossing, we broke through ice so thick that it punctured a hole in the front bumper of my car and ripped off two mudflaps and other side panel pieces.

Nonetheless, we forged on, took pictures, and laughed at my poor car. We parked and hiked up to the crag wearing so many layers, our limbs could hardly bend. Yet, the sun came up and we relished in a beautiful day of climbing in full sunlight. Some of the belays, even, were done in t-shirts. Occasionally, a breeze would remind us that, in fact, it was January- but otherwise it was a sunbowl of a day.

Nine pitches completely wore me out- my mind, my muscles, and of course, my skin- which hadn't properly crack climbed since November.

But Patrick was an absolute machine. As I said, I hadn't climbed cracks since November-- yet Patrick, who couldn't remember the last time he had touched a crack (likely years and years earlier), cranked out pitch after pitch... after pitch, after pitch. Though he did not reach his goal, he absolutely tore down 40 pitches- cranked them out in style, and was in fine spirits after the sun went down on that short winter day.

Tomorrow Zac and I hope to top on the Corner Route (Cirque of the Climbables, Kane River Road, Moab). We'll see how that goes...

España

JET LAG
aka
No hablo español
aka
No "habla" español: Aero Puerto!?

I LEFT SLC ON THE MORNING OF DECEMBER 17, slightly later than planned (for my first time ever, missing a plane by over-sleeping), and returned January 5th, nearly missing yet another flight on the way back...

Travel was fairly uneventful, except for the last flight. This featured delays, turbulence, a really obese and uncomfortable pregnant woman next to me (and halfway into my seat), and a missing piece of luggage in the wee hours of the morning. Finally, as I discovered upon my return to the states, my cell phone finally died, no longer "turning on"... which added to the challenge of navigating the airport pickup, lost baggage, etc...

Regardless, Spain was great fun. We climbed almost exclusively at El Chorro, in the Malaga area of Andalucia.

The trip was a bit taxing, as Spain pretty much is defined by chaos. Cooking, showering, accessing electricity and/or internet-- these things were all rather epic tasks. Add to that rain, a leaky tent, and mildew. We ended up staying at a climber's hostel called the Finca la Campana for the last portion of the trip- but, as it was the holiday season, these basic amenities were almost never available without a long wait and compromised sanitation. Though this sounds like a list of complaints- these types of inconveniences seem to always be exactly what turn a normal trip into a good trip.

The team (aka "Family") was an American/Swedish powerhouse of sweetness that suffered a series of entertaining incidents.

Firstly, the luggage belonging to two members of the family was lost for several days. There was also a trip to the hospital after a friend fell from a poorly-bolted/ chossy warm-up route. Jon managed to burn a gaping hole straight into his fancy backpack whilst trying to make coffee. The day after Christmas was spent trying to extract the family car from the Spanish countryside after we ripped a hole in its oil pan... way out in the sticks and quite removed from even the smallest villages- impossible to access with any kind of reasonable tow truck...

But all of these problems were resolved without any major hassle. The head was resealed with a porcupine of sutures at a hospital in Malaga; the oil pan was repaired with some trusty Spanish epoxy. The luggage was delivered after several days of dirty underwear, and Jon came to appreciate the new hole in his backpack for its access convenience.

All told, the trip was quite awesome. Jon, an acquaintance from SLC, booked a ticket to join me at the LAST minute- and we were lucky enough to have the same flights all the way to Spain. Though we didn't know each other beforehand very well, we got along awesomely and I look forward to friendship with him at home in Utah.

He and I met two Swedes on the first day climbing, and we fell into a group together, the aforementioned "Family". Though the nuclear family consisted of five people, we also took on two "foster children" and a bunch of cousins (also all Swedish) as the trip progressed.

The weather actually pretty rainy and cold (woah- Spain has winter, too!), particularly in the second 2/3 of the trip- needless to say, too many days were spent at Poema da Roca (the go-to cave crag), and a few other days were spent learning why other caves/ overhanging walls just aren't popular... At the cave in Archidona, we learned that the term "shitty" is not always figurative-- as the floor of this cave was absolutely covered in goat poo, and the walls and holds of the rock itself were plastered with bird droppings.

Bad weather, a few incidents (mentioned above), and a few ill-timed rest days, plus an assortment of "Family"/ Finca illnesses (colds, intestinal issues, colds, and more colds) = not too much climbing at all, but a whole bunch of a lot of fun regardless. We laughed for about 2 weeks straight... and, oh yeah, it was neat to check out Spain for my first time.

So back in SLC, it is a snowy winterland right now. It's a bit of a shock, but I suppose it is January.

Back from Spain

More to come...

Out to Spain

That's it. See you Jan 5, '09 at 11:20pm, God willing.

xoxoxox

Sports! Energy! SPORTS! ENERGY!

Obscure Energy Drinks

Wow, that sure looks like camel pee!

---

Recently, my roommate Zac and I discovered what is one of Salt Lake City’s best assets. NPS, a shopping complex whose full name has shall remain a mystery, is located on the west side of the tracks, Salt Lake City, Utah. It is just north of 1700 South, and just west of Redwood Road. This miraculous compound marketplace features, among other retail outlets, a grocery store that sells lost and damaged food-related items.

NPS’s grocery store is actually an amazing source of food: produce, bread, cheese, etc… all the staples. Many locally-grown and high-end organic items can be purchased here, as they apparently can get lost and damaged just like normal groceries. Provided you do not require a specific brand or item –rather you desire general categories such as “fruit” or “cereal”- you will be more-than-satisfied in this place.

Some genres tend to be much more reliably stocked than others. One such category of ultimate satisfaction available at NPS is

ENERGY DRINKS.

…Energy drinks that cost 25 to 33 cents. Think about that.

What is the ONLY reason people traditionally limit their intake of these little 8- and 16-fluid-oz. goodies? Cost! It is simply not economical to drink these- and piss away drink after drink at $1.99 or even $2.59 (convenience store price because you forgot to buy enough at the grocery store and you’re on a road trip)… but why not slam back an Ace, Joker, or Maximum Velocity at just a fraction of a dollar? At this rate, you might as well drink three or four (though the manufacturers suggest responsibly limiting intake to three per day).

Well, I can’t come up with ANY reasons to refrain from copious intake of such products.

It seems that many of these off-brand beverages are “lost” on purpose—I'd previously never seen many of these in my life… And the only way to figure out what’s in a can in to purchase it and drink it.

With this in mind, Zac and I decided to embark on a study which I will present here over the course of a few weeks’ (or months’) time. This shall be an exhaustive study that doesn’t test the quality of the drinks, but rather explores the sheer joy and ridiculousness of consuming them. I'm sure my liver agrees.