Sept 29

Today was my homies last day at his current job before he moves out of state. He's worked the same job for about a decade now, so it's a big day for him. We took a cruise in Herman up the hill. Hung out at the boulder, where I got a bun have climbing in. Super comfy weather with a full moon rising above the ridge around 9. Played 93.5 KDay off the wind up radio. Good night to chill.

Moving around... a subject for another time. Time to wind down.

Here are some points from climbing on the boulder tonight that I wish to record:

-Some loose pieces. Bring hammer and knifeblade to remove them.

-Tiny adorable Deer Mouse lives inside boulder. Huge ears and eyes. He was staring out at me, and I watched him (or her) run around in the horizontal crack.

-The hand crack in the center of the boulder ends at a roof if you lie on your back like a boulderer. A sometimes awkward pull-up move from a horizontal position followed by a quick hand jam in the roof's crack. Fire more jams and mantle up onto the rock (70-80*). No idea what I'd rate it.

-Climbing up the left arête sometimes is at that level of spicy that may be too much sometimes. Lieback the left edge, which feels like a large sharp flake. Smear the gritty face where you can't find positive feet. This is spicy sometimes.

-New circuit: start on far left edge and traverse the boulder going right. Go around corner onto interesting moves, then up right next to the loose flake. Downclimb crack on face, then down and right to edge. Down to just above ground. Stick to smallest holds possible and traverse left. It would be cool to also climb the 'roof crack' this way, without touching the ground.

-adventure thoughts-

One particular string of thoughts I enjoy picking apart is how deeply I want to do a big climb alone that requires a great deal of me and my soul. In my head, I imagine not only the endless terrain one sometimes encounters, but also moments of fear and elation. Everything can be amplified through isolation. Mistakes are paid for in more work, more time, and sometimes more fear. One climb on my mind would involve a lot of work. There's a ridge that offers around 10,000ft of elevation gain with a big 1,000ft technical buttress on it. The climbing on the buttress appears to be challenging. I would like to try to climb this in winter. It would require a lot from me, even if I prove to be in good shape, or my technical aptitude was at a proficient level. Tons of terrain. Sometimes it never ends. Makes you question why you trudge up mountains in the first place. Those are low-level doubts. You've organized a trip where nobody needs you for that amount of time, so don't quit unless absolutely necessary. To do so is to hurt only yourself. When I feel doubt or feel I should bail, I always ask myself if there's a real reason to do so. Am I injured to the point where I require true treatment and soon? Is someone at home hurt? Are you going into stupidly bad conditions, such as consistent rock or ice fall, or avalanche conditions? Probably not. Don't give up, cause that's what it is. If you're willing to be this far into this stuff, you should make sure you give it some real work. 

Remember that when you wake up at 3am to drive to a trailhead so you can hike in to some route and have a million excuses ready. It pays off when you're in the moment. Being in cool places like Telegraph Peak's southwest ridge in winter, as clouds envelope your world and offer brief glimpses of neighboring peaks covered in snow. It's a cool place to be alive, and nothing can beat that feeling.

The mind is all over the place.

Sept 28 Night

Returned from run. I think it's 11 miles. Can't access the hard drive that data is on. Took 2 hours. Walked up Grand in Walnut and most of the trail's uphill section. Ran the long hill, and down to home. Sprinted across the last major intersection and surprisingly wasn't totally done while running up e last hill. If I continue running often enough, the result would change greatly. I could do the 17 mile loop that I like much more. This one covers the same ground but adds another peak (Condor Peak), a long trail and track loop, and an obstacle course for fire recruits. Mix in some upper body movement in all that running.

I used to run to get to work when I didn't have a car or serviceable bike. I did this quite a bit and noticed a big difference in how I felt when climbing long snow slopes in the mountains and similar trudging movements. Several of the ideas in my head for winter climbing involve an absurd amount of elevation gain, at least for me. Diet will improve as well.

-the running mind-

Running allows one to strip away distractions and everything for a while. One can venture deep into parts of their mind while chugging away, listen to music, and think of what their next move is. I sort of watched myself think tonight on my run and observed the patterns in thought. I always find it silly that certain music motivates while others slow you down, and it's all in your head. Small adjustments in motivation that you should be able to control instantly, but are often helpless in such cases. I guess control over this type of thought would yield more efficiency while being less human.

I noticed that my left foot slapped the ground when I was running near the end. I may have weakened some muscles in that ankle after I twisted it a few weeks ago. It should heal up relatively soon, so long as it gets enough use and loading under range of motion. I made up for it by overpronating that foot as it strikes, or taps, the ground. This was on a long downhill.

My heart felt stable during most of the run. I had one anomaly at about mile 6 or so. Easy rolling hills and not too much traffic on the road next to you. My heartbeat was regular and strong, though I think I had a palpitation just prior and felt it as normal. My heart tends to feel good while being used, or I just notice palpitations and other issues while doing regular people things.

I will be seeing a cardiologist soon to see how my heart is doing, and try to paint a realistic picture of my health. When things aren't going great, I tend to feel I have a short life expectancy, which drives me to be a darker person inside. Lots of exercise helps me feel better. I need to move around a lot and push my limits, otherwise I get depressed and that makes everything more challenging than it needs to be. It's a constant battle in the mind.

My right knee was hurting a little bit in the beginning, as well as during a few spots in the run. This is often a result of hamstrings not being stretched enough, as it pulls the knee cap across the knee, grinding away. Not a problem when I'm active enough. Sedentary ways destroy the body and mind.

Everything else was fine. Used the Petzl fancy new headlamp that detects ambient light levels and puts out accordingly. Powerful beam when you look in the distance, and nice soft light when up close without touching a button. I've been using it a lot lately and am happy with it. I can't help but want something with a very powerful spot lamp for some applications. The regular LED lights appear to distort textures and some distances when worn on the forehead, which can make running in the mountains at night a bit more challenging for no good reason. Sometimes just a little off for climbing as well, especially during rappels or when trying to find a way up an unknown route before you lead off into dirtball hellstorm 12,000. 

Adios

Sep 28

Here I sit listening to Barrington Levy wondering what I should say to start this blog.no need to try, just vomit the words. I've started this blog by request. I've had some friends tell me I should write, as apparently I'm not too bad at it. Time will tell. The real test will be putting my insane thoughts onto paper without too many grammatical errors or other issues.

I reckon most of the content will revolve around climbing. What a surprise! Climbing, and as this is a sort of somewhat-filtered personal journal, I'll also reflect on external stimuli and other nonsensical banter. Perhaps writing more personal trip reports will provide a better look into the past. I often write my trip reports days after returning, when the memories have faded somewhat and the pains subsided. I've got a fancy durable Otter brand case for my old iPad, so perhaps I should bring it with me on adventures as a sort of modern notepad. This may prove challenging in some climbing contexts, as one can't guarantee their equipment will still be intact after rappelling back to it at the anchor, or after hauling a pack. Learning will happen.

Posts will often just have a date as the title. My writing style tends to jump around a great deal, as I write for personal reasons and not for school or work. The mind is in chaos when it isn't forced to focus in response to immediate danger, thus the style described prevails. Onward.

Perhaps I shall barf out thoughts as they come to me.

-Training-

I've neglected training lately as a result in a shifting focus in my life. After my van died and was towed, I've had to apply to jobs and find a new way instead of working on my list of routes to qualify for the AMGA Rock Guide Exams. I've surprised myself lately by climbing some 5.10+ routes onsight with absolutely no knowledge of their difficulty, character, or any properties. This is my favorite game. I often find knowledge to be more of a burden sometimes than an aide, as my mind mulls over how something may have a reputation, or may have iffy protection etc etc. Walk up to an unknown crack, look up, judge what you'll need to protect it, rack up and start climbing. It is a rather pure style, and despite the unknowns you're immersing yourself in, the lack of knowledge and preconceived notions is like leaving your pack behind. The less I know, the better the experience tends to be. This doesn't hold entirely true for multipitch routes, but the concept more or less remains the same. Make small adjustments in your mind to make it work.

Back to the subject of training, winter is approaching as time lumbers forward, quietly consuming all before it. On the so-called 'list' of climbs to train for are a number of winter mountaineering objectives. My focus is to climb long technical routes in 'winter' conditions, that is to say snow and ice as well as rock. A huge amount of elevation gain up steep snow slopes will obviously be a major part of this, so more running is on the menu. I greatly enjoy running, so this isn't much of a problem. I've been avoiding it as it's been quite hot lately. A convenient excuse, though I've not usually found heat matters much in the moment. Hydration requirements change, but it's not as if it hurts.

More technical terrain demands more climbing strength. I've retained a good amount of strength, however my endurance is nothing like it was when I lived in the ditch and climbed everyday. It is difficult to keep in exceptional climbing shape while living in Los Angeles. There simply isn't enough rock. Don't get me wrong, there is plenty of climbing around, but one can't walk out their front door, jog for 10 minutes, and find theirself at the base of a 2,000ft+ bigwall. Huge terrain helps one build and maintain muscular endurance, as even if one is climbing something relatively easy without gear, the motions are similar and the muscle fibers must adapt to the demand placed upon them. Going out and doing laps on After Six with other pitches mixed in was a favorite activity of mine, and helped me stay in shape for long routes.

As a substitution for plentiful big terrain, I must pretend to be creative with my training. I try to mimic some movements with free weights and a pull-up bar, the special kind that destroys door jambs. I'll knock out however many pull-ups I can complete (without continuing to muscular failure), followed by abdominal exercises while locking off above the bar. I have excellent core strength and am fortunate to hold onto said strength despite neglecting training. However, stability under muscular contraction (or whatever) is lost, so movements cannot always be completed gracefully enough to be secure when climbing, especially while alone and wearing crampons, etc. As I regain lost progress and become stronger, I will add weight to my harness for weighted pull-ups. Ice tool pull-ups are also a useful part of the program, though it's a bit more challenging as my tools lack leashless horns at the moment. I plan to purchase horns for my Grivel tools this winter, as they make a tremendous difference whilst climbing sans-leashes, a method that I often see as the only way to the future.

I will also need to climb more routes in boots and crampons, with ice tools. I've not done this much lately, and am not entirely confident in my abilities. Feeling the sensitivity required to keep a pick or point from skating off takes time to develop. At least it's fun, whatever that is.

-New Routes-

I've climbed a handful of new routes at my various crags nobody else cares about. As the lines are climbed, new ones are seen and studied. It's come to the point where I must learn how to place bolts in order to protect otherwise completely unprotectable routes.

My own personal ethics for my climbs and my crags is this: only place bolts if there is no natural protection of any sort available. Though this seems clear cut, others can take it differently. As with all things in climbing, nothing is black and white, and everything is subjective. I have a route I'd like to place some bolts on. It starts up some dirty 5.9 ground with delicate moves right to gain an unprotectable dihedral. The base of the dihedral offers a tiny nut placement, a #1 or 2 offset aluminum nut. You're now about 30ft up, and the terrain becomes just barely overhanging ahead (guessing 95*), and there's no protection in sight. The moves are hard slab/ face and stemming, currently with lots of lichen and moss. A fall above the tiny nut could kill the climber. A moral dilemma appears: do you place a bolt a short distance above to preserve the challenging mental character of the route, or leave it unprotected by any bolts? The next 50ft or so appear to be unprotectable slab, so clearly the consequences of a fall are dire. I personally would like to place bolts, just enough, just barely enough so that a fall results in a twisted ankle, bruises, bleeding, minor injuries instead of broken legs, punctured organs, or death.

The line on this route I'm describing looks beautiful, and may prove to be a route I'm proud to have worked on. I get excited thinking about it.

Once my gut settles from the carbassault, I shall leave for my run. My route will be about 11 miles long. This is required to access the trail I want to run on. Might be longer if I continue to Condor Peak in Walnut. Just depends on how my ankle feels.