The Plague...

Arguably one of the best outdoor kitchens in the universe...

We found temporary camping for one night and then found premier camping for the rest of the week inside the park.  The Tuolumne Meadows campground (like many campgrounds across America) has several positives.  The biggest positives being it’s location (close to hundreds of climbs), it’s price ($30/each for the week), the free public transportation, and it’s relative security.  Another positive for me was being stationary.  For the past five weeks I had not stayed in one location more then two nights.

The negatives are more amusing then stressful.  The first is the massive amount of campsites.  There are 300 sites - 150 are reservation based and 150 are doled out on a first come first serve basis - we waited in line for about an hour.  Another negative is the constant campfires that never seem to stop smoking.  I know the campfire is a tradition that runs deep in most peoples camping consciousness, but to me it boarders on ridiculous.  First off, most of the folks that make fires, rarely make fires.  This leads to all kinds of trouble - hatchets in the hands of morons, fires that just smolder and smoke, and the fact that California is in the middle of a drought and the entire park is a tinder box.  One real negative that did develop was the plague...  That's right, the plague.  Apparently a couple of dead varmints were found, tested, and identified as carrying the plague.  The authorities decided to shut the campground down.  Luckily we had finished our stint in the park before they shut the campsite down and the park officials never realized that the varmints had caught the plague from our friend Brian.  He has this thing for rodents... 

Then there are the public bathrooms.  There are not enough of them, there too many of us, and there are posters warning everyone of the plague.  This leads to long lines in the morning that challenge most peoples’ ability to be civil.  It also shows how people really don't pay attention to warnings that the authorities post in plain sight.  I stood in front of the plague warning sign several times and never really thought about it.   Having to take a shit is a powerful drive that will cause people to act a little crazy, but signs that warn people that they are camping in an area that is infested with a potentially deadly disease seems to have no affect.  

The bathrooms are also public - which to some people means ‘not my problem’.   A select few think that dumping trash into the toilets, spreading toilet paper onto the floor, and cutting line to get to the toilet are all part of everyday life in the campground.  I wonder if being an asshole will increase one's chances of catching the plague?    

Little did Greg know that "Vaughn" was actually Satan... 

Phat Options

Quick work of some fine rock

Options are great, but they are not always available.  Climbing at Cathedral Ledge as a 5.7 trad leader means few options, but climbing in the same area as a 5.12 leader means hundreds of options.  Climbing at Cathedral as a sport climber without a trad rack means no options, at least no protected ones.  In many ways options and skill sets go hand in hand.  The skill sets can be driven by level of difficulty (5.7 leader vs. 5.12 leader) or the type of climbing (bouldering vs. sport climbing, or sport climbing vs. trad climbing).  As we found out a couple of weeks ago a broader skill set can translate into better options.   

In late November Brian, Greg and I set out to hit some ice up in Huntington's Ravine.  We woke up early, made the trek from Portland, and began to gear up in the parking lot.  Before we arrived we could see that the ravine looked bare and we were not confident about what kind of conditions we would find.   

The parking lot was full of folks from all over New England ready to get on some ice.  We saw crampons, ice tools and helmets being pulled from cars and strapped onto packs.  We figured that if there was any ice in the ravine it would be in either Pinnacle Gully or on the left side of Odells.  We knew that there were few climbing options, but many climbers. 

For us the choice to leave our tools, ice screws and crampons in the car seemed to make the most sense.  We didn't have climbing shoes, but we figured it would be good practice to climb in our ice boots instead.  We had ropes, helmets, harnesses, trad gear, and "phat boots".  We had options.

Although we made great time on the approach there were three parties at the base of Pinnacle Gully, one party on their way up and more folks headed up.  While we were roping up at the base of Pinnacle Buttress we saw a solo climber pass over a party at the mid point of the first pitch on a thin section of ice.  We heard grumblings from the climbers below as debris fell onto them just as they were getting onto the pitch.  As we made our way up the first couple of pitches of rock we heard ice call outs and harsh tones.  By the third pitch of the buttress I was down to one layer and was soaking in the sun.

We were moving quickly for a group of three until we came to the base of the 5.8 variation.  At this point a new strategy was needed to tackle the more difficult terrain.  Although we didn't have any aid gear Greg made quick work of the pitch by using the existing pins, a few cams, nuts and slings to help him through the most technical parts.  As we moved up the cliff we stayed in front of the sun and managed to escape the shade that was forming behind and below us.  

Sunny warm and fuzzy...

I have not climbed extensively in phat boots and I'm always amazed at how quickly my feet seem to adapt.  As far as I can tell climbing in phat boots is more about edging then smearing and when a foot slips it seems to blow off the hold rather then gradually slipping off.  Although my feet were a little warm, they were snug and comfortable and did not ache from being too tight or lacking support. 

GB looks better exposed...

We were soon scrambling our way up to the edge of the alpine garden above both the buttress and the gully.  Once again we were heading up into the sun and leaving the shadows behind us.  I was envious of those that got in a day of ice, but I was pleased that we had avoided the crowd, the falling ice, and the cold for one more day.  I was also able to bridge the gap between rock and ice by improving my ability to edge, smear and trust my feet and gear in a different way.  We saw our options, and made them available.

Post Pinnacle Lions Head

Intuition and Desire

Suffering loomed on the western horizon. Paul and I were approaching Irene's Arête, our last objective of the trip, and my ideal forecast did not call for clouds, rain, hail, lightning or even doubt. While the clouds blew through and didn't amount to much more than a brief shower, my doubt accumulated. The thought of climbing through, or waiting out, another storm on the side of a route, did not sit well with me. After two relatively big storms on Wolf's Head and the Upper Exum, I really wasn't liking what I saw through the high mountain passes blowing our way.
Of course weather is always an uncertainty climbing on the eastern side of cliffs and big ranges, but add to that our lack of a solid cell signal limiting our ability to get a reliable forecast and the uncertainty in the sky builds in your gut...at least it does with me. When feelings like that surface for me, I tend to over analyze. Perhaps I was just scared. Perhaps I was just exhausted. Or perhaps I was really trying to trust my intuition. I'd had similar premonitions before getting on Wolf's Head and the Grand, but I'd suppressed them enough to allow us to continue upward and push through the adversity we would face. This time, I wasn't ready to do that. I kept hemming and hawing, internally and externally until Paul recognized my reluctance.
"Dude, do you want to bail? Cause it seems like you want to bail." I nodded my head. I was working up toward a decision.
"Yeah," I replied. "I think I want to bail."
We waited it out for another 40 minutes or so, but my mind was already made up. I felt bad for not allowing Paul this opportunity to climb a route I know he really wanted, but it wouldn't work if we weren't on the same page. We started the hike back to camp and into the sunshine. The majority of the clouds had blown through, and the route looked perfect. But by the time we arrived at camp and pulled our sleeping pads out of the tent to catch some rays, a few sprinkles turned into a steady rain for the next half hour and sent us to the shelter of our tent. I felt a little better, but I knew that the rain wouldn't have been a big deal if we'd kept going up instead of down.

Bailing is always tough. I battle with feelings of fear, discouragement, disappointment, and lack of mental fortitude. I try and balance those feelings with other, more positive things though. Climbing, like life, is all about learning-about self, others and the environment. I also know we get caught up in comparing our abilities and exploits to others. I strive to learn more and compare less. Those feelings of discouragement and disappoint really only materialize for me when I think of what other people would do in my situation. Ultimately, it doesn't matter. I climb (or don't climb in this instance) for me.

So now that Paul and I are sitting on a bus, heading home on our last leg of our travels, we know there are a lot more routes out there that we want to climb. We will always temper our desire with our intuition, as both are key aspects of staying safe and staying strong in the mountains as well as in our friendship.  B. T.

Photo taken from: Clouds365

Why do threesomes need to be so complicated?

My guess is that many readers are hoping that this particular post will fall under our "external affairs" category. It does not. This particular threesome was a local event... Some readers, but not all, might be hoping that this post involves both men and women. It does not. This particular threesome involved three men... And I would imagine that there are thousands of readers (okay dozens) out there that are hoping and praying that this particular threesome does not involve any of the contributors from New England Adventures! Actually, it does. Both Brian and myself were involved... There is one more thing that this post does not do. It does not, in any way, have to do with what the French refer to as a Ménage à trois. Sorry...

More importantly, this post does deal with the trials and tribulations of climbing with three people on a multi-pitch climb. Specifically, this post deals with how to manage a group of three climbers that all want a chance to swing leads on a multi-pitch climb as efficiently as possible.

There are those out there that feel that the most efficient way to climb with three people is to leave one at home. This is probably true, but for me some days are about efficiency and others are about community. This past Saturday was one of those days were inclusion was the best option.

The Place:

It is important to mention that The Whitney Gilman can often be crowded on weekends and that climbing on the WG with three people on a weekend is probably not a great idea. That doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be done. It just means that other groups on the cliff may not like you.

The People:

Brian and I figured that having Josh along for one of our last “training” climbs before our trip to WY would slow things up a bit (two are faster then three), but also liven up the climb as well.

Josh and Pablo - post cruise goofin...

The Details:

 The first thing we did was chat about what would work and what would not. Once that was decided Brian jumped on the first pitch and started the climb with two ropes - we are all about using Brian’s Sterling Photons for the trip! Josh and I were both attached to an end while Brian climbed with two. I followed, cleaned the route and stripped Brian of his gear while Josh climbed. Once Josh arrived, I took Josh’s end of the rope and Josh took the end attached to Brian (this may not be comfortable for all folks). I started climbing with both ropes. Once I arrived I built an anchor and got off belay. Josh climbed, cleaned the route and stripped gear from me. Once Brian arrived, Josh took Brian’s end of the rope and Brian took the end of the same rope attached to me. Josh then began climbing with two ropes.  Little complicated to describe, but not to tough to do.  We continued this pattern for six pitches.

Beginning of second pitch