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.
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