a pile of ashes alongside the creek
half burned images of a life past
charred 50's square cut photographs
black and white memories
of a time past?
do they know how they got here
half burned
half forgotten
do they know how it happened
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Monday, August 1, 2011
Getting it back
So, its been a long several weeks, the departure of the best friends, the feeling of indecisiveness, the daily battles of staying motivated at work, and overall feeling lackluster. Then it happened. My buddy Matt and I were talking about trying to get out climbing, I had low hopes... just haven't been feeling that motivated, but there have been a few things on my Sedona list that I have been wanting to get on. I threw out a suggestion of doing a new 5.10 in West Fork to which he countered "how 'bout Into the Wild"? Hold on stop the presses YES! Into the Wild is a 8/9 pitch route that went up several years ago, authored by Burcham and Chris and its been on the list since the first day Chris handed me the topo. Thing is no one wanted to go do it with me. Its out of season, its too hard, its too long, the excuses have been piling up, so it got pushed to the periphery until now. Matt didn't have to ask me twice!
Now I must admit that my mental map must have been skewed when I envisioned the orientation of the route. Somehow I thought we would be in the shade all day and my main concern was beating the ever present Monsoons. (More on that soon) So Matt and I met at Macys pseudo early and rallied down to Oak Creek. Quick side note, Friday night I had intentions to have dinner with Peterson, Ali, and Lil Nikki, however after an hour of driving in the dark unable to find Petersons house I went home and pouted over a dinner of ice cream with Magic shell (I was feeling quite low.) Anyhow Matt and I get coffeed up and head down to Oak Creek. We rack up, what a great rack, less than a singe set of cams and fifteen quickdraws, yipee, and hike up to the route. Rarely in Sedona are approaches this straight forward, we were at the base of the route in less than half an hour. It looked amazing! Still concerned about the monsoons I stuffed my rain shell and Matts into my backpack and somehow let Matt talk me out of bringing my waterbottle. With little more ado I launched up the first pitch and the adventure began!
The first pitch is a very enjoyable finger crack through pods which helped shake off the cobwebs clouding my brain, soon I was in the groove and motored up and to the first belay, looking around it seemed like I would be able to link the next pitch so I scrambled up the slabs and soon was clipping my way up the second pitch. From below came the warnings of 50ft! 40ft! 20ft! and just as I touched the belay 8ft! What a fantastic rope stretcher of a pitch! I clipped in and soon Matt was making his way up.
As I belayed Matt up the first two pitches I stared into the canyon around and below me and was overwhelmed by the beauty. I could feel the weight of the past several weeks lift off my soul as I soaked in the view. A hummingbird flitted within inches of my face, I assume it was assessing my bright orange helmet and when he decided that it was not edible winged away. From below us came the shriek of a peregrine and I watched as it made its way through the treetops and out of sight. From out of nowhere appeared a bat, flapping his leathery wings and lighting on the cliff occasionally and then bouncing back into the air. The requisite butterfly fluttered by. Then I heard a skittering and looked over to see a lizard stalking a small insect, in the blink of an eye it pounced and the insect vanished. Amazing. Soon I could hear Matt as he neared the belay and we both laughed as he topped out. Matt racked up and soon was on his way.
We steadily made our way up the route, classic and clean climbing with occasional sand but nothing too bad. As I climbed I began to notice that the monsoon clouds I had been expecting were not exactly filling the sky, instead the sun was beating down on us! The temperature rose. I began to feel funny. At the huge ledge about halfway up I took my harness off and relieved myself way away from the route. A little better but perhaps ice cream for dinner wasn't the best decision! The sun continued to beat down, the foul glowing orb sucking our souls with its hellish heat. Soon we were at the base of the crux. I took the rack and headed up. About ten feet off the belay I had to pause and gather myself. I felt low. I pushed on. Through the steep, juggy roof to a small perch below the meat of the pitch, I paused again. The sun smiled down, more of a smirk really, sweat dripped from beneath my helmet. I launched into it. Amazing layback up a clean corner with bolts at all the right places. Then it got hard! I pulled into the last of the laybacking, my heart pounding in my temples. My breathing was to fast, I looked at my next bolt, even with my waist... I tried to let go to grab a draw and clip but my balance was too precarious, I took a deep breath and was off into space. It was a clean fall and felt exhilerating to fall that high on a route, but as I dangled there in space something primal happened. Hrraugh! (oh God! came from below!) Hurraugh! two of the most painful dry heaves ever! Matt laughed and I just closed my eyes and rested my head on the wall. Oh please don't throw up I thought. I dangled there for a few minutes longer and then slowly began inching my way up the rest of the pitch, bolt to bolt. I was exhausted. I was too tired even to place any gear after the bolts ran out, instead just ran it out to the next belay. I collapsed on the ledge and cursed the sun! Soon Matt was climbing and I tried to stay awake and keep him on belay! It was sooo hot! 95 degrees is what I saw on the weather page when I got home...
When Matt rejoined me at the belay he was dripping with sweat and of course his camelbak was dry. I knew I should have brought that water bottle. I asked if he wanted to launch into the last pitch and he declined. Soon I was making my way up the last pitch and even though I think I was on the verge of heat stroke I marveled at the amazing exposure, fantastic position, and spectacular climbing. As I topped out I thought again at how lucky we are to live where we do. We made it back to the packs with no problems and each gulped down a liter of water. With our packs back on we made our way back to the truck just as the sky let a few drops of rain fall.
Now I must admit that my mental map must have been skewed when I envisioned the orientation of the route. Somehow I thought we would be in the shade all day and my main concern was beating the ever present Monsoons. (More on that soon) So Matt and I met at Macys pseudo early and rallied down to Oak Creek. Quick side note, Friday night I had intentions to have dinner with Peterson, Ali, and Lil Nikki, however after an hour of driving in the dark unable to find Petersons house I went home and pouted over a dinner of ice cream with Magic shell (I was feeling quite low.) Anyhow Matt and I get coffeed up and head down to Oak Creek. We rack up, what a great rack, less than a singe set of cams and fifteen quickdraws, yipee, and hike up to the route. Rarely in Sedona are approaches this straight forward, we were at the base of the route in less than half an hour. It looked amazing! Still concerned about the monsoons I stuffed my rain shell and Matts into my backpack and somehow let Matt talk me out of bringing my waterbottle. With little more ado I launched up the first pitch and the adventure began!
The first pitch is a very enjoyable finger crack through pods which helped shake off the cobwebs clouding my brain, soon I was in the groove and motored up and to the first belay, looking around it seemed like I would be able to link the next pitch so I scrambled up the slabs and soon was clipping my way up the second pitch. From below came the warnings of 50ft! 40ft! 20ft! and just as I touched the belay 8ft! What a fantastic rope stretcher of a pitch! I clipped in and soon Matt was making his way up.
As I belayed Matt up the first two pitches I stared into the canyon around and below me and was overwhelmed by the beauty. I could feel the weight of the past several weeks lift off my soul as I soaked in the view. A hummingbird flitted within inches of my face, I assume it was assessing my bright orange helmet and when he decided that it was not edible winged away. From below us came the shriek of a peregrine and I watched as it made its way through the treetops and out of sight. From out of nowhere appeared a bat, flapping his leathery wings and lighting on the cliff occasionally and then bouncing back into the air. The requisite butterfly fluttered by. Then I heard a skittering and looked over to see a lizard stalking a small insect, in the blink of an eye it pounced and the insect vanished. Amazing. Soon I could hear Matt as he neared the belay and we both laughed as he topped out. Matt racked up and soon was on his way.
We steadily made our way up the route, classic and clean climbing with occasional sand but nothing too bad. As I climbed I began to notice that the monsoon clouds I had been expecting were not exactly filling the sky, instead the sun was beating down on us! The temperature rose. I began to feel funny. At the huge ledge about halfway up I took my harness off and relieved myself way away from the route. A little better but perhaps ice cream for dinner wasn't the best decision! The sun continued to beat down, the foul glowing orb sucking our souls with its hellish heat. Soon we were at the base of the crux. I took the rack and headed up. About ten feet off the belay I had to pause and gather myself. I felt low. I pushed on. Through the steep, juggy roof to a small perch below the meat of the pitch, I paused again. The sun smiled down, more of a smirk really, sweat dripped from beneath my helmet. I launched into it. Amazing layback up a clean corner with bolts at all the right places. Then it got hard! I pulled into the last of the laybacking, my heart pounding in my temples. My breathing was to fast, I looked at my next bolt, even with my waist... I tried to let go to grab a draw and clip but my balance was too precarious, I took a deep breath and was off into space. It was a clean fall and felt exhilerating to fall that high on a route, but as I dangled there in space something primal happened. Hrraugh! (oh God! came from below!) Hurraugh! two of the most painful dry heaves ever! Matt laughed and I just closed my eyes and rested my head on the wall. Oh please don't throw up I thought. I dangled there for a few minutes longer and then slowly began inching my way up the rest of the pitch, bolt to bolt. I was exhausted. I was too tired even to place any gear after the bolts ran out, instead just ran it out to the next belay. I collapsed on the ledge and cursed the sun! Soon Matt was climbing and I tried to stay awake and keep him on belay! It was sooo hot! 95 degrees is what I saw on the weather page when I got home...
When Matt rejoined me at the belay he was dripping with sweat and of course his camelbak was dry. I knew I should have brought that water bottle. I asked if he wanted to launch into the last pitch and he declined. Soon I was making my way up the last pitch and even though I think I was on the verge of heat stroke I marveled at the amazing exposure, fantastic position, and spectacular climbing. As I topped out I thought again at how lucky we are to live where we do. We made it back to the packs with no problems and each gulped down a liter of water. With our packs back on we made our way back to the truck just as the sky let a few drops of rain fall.
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