Summer

The rope ran behind my right shoulder as I moved out of the short, opening roof. It was a bad position to be in, I knew, but at the end of the day I was pumped, breathing hard, and lacked the energy to pop the rope back in front of me – it was either that and fall, or keep climbing and maybe reach a better stance. Working at a grade I used to onsight, trying to get back some strength, I’d figured out the crux move the previous work day; today, however, I went to a key sidepull too early from a poor crimp, and no surprise, I was off the route. Just before the rope flipped me upside down and hurtled my poor brain towards the floor, I had a thought that had been pervading my mind for the past two months: I hate climbing gyms.

First and foremost, I felt like a right idiot for taking a fall like that in a gym. I mean, really? A near groundfall with my skull while on toprope?! Don’t worry, I didn’t actually hit (though I may well have deserved it), but I was reminded of how the Texas summer heat really is such a bummer. With rock temperatures at the nearest trad- climbing area happily lounging at 110 degrees F, anything other than indoor training is only for those far crazier than I.

Time has passed quickly on this side of the computer screen. A whole semester passed by back at Colorado College with nary but a drop into the gym once every blue moon to strip holds or set a route. What can I say? Living at a school without a means of transport and climbers I don’t trust is unmotivating. Sue me. So I’m back to the gym for a summer of training, quick prayers for a long and heavy cool spell, and looking to find a way to stay motivated once back in the big C.

As far as training is concerned, it’s been near constant core and endurance workouts. Hanging knee lifts and a workout learned from an enemy of a friend have gone down nearly every day and have finally started to bring back those abdominal muscles so handy in the whole climbing thing. And when it comes to motivation, my two best climbing buddies just returned from a ten day trip through Colorado, and I hear tell of a new area just being opened up near RMNP…

My Idea of High School Economics

I’ve noticed an odd trend in the American travel and economic market recently. While this “depression” we’re in has business tycoons and money- fat politicians scared like turkeys in the rain, gas prices have been splendidly low – when I came back to Texas they were $1.40 instead $4.10. Still they tell us we’re in a depression; yet as we slowly claw out of the sinkhole to economic stability (whatever the hell that might mean), gas prices have begun to incline once again. This odd relationship got me to wondering what all the implications were as far as money for climbing was concerned.

Chart I:

As you can see in Chart I, the relationship between gas prices and climbing money is inverse; that is, the higher the price of gas, the less money there is available for climbing. But what about as compared to the economy in general?

Chart II:

Chart II reveals what is to be expected, that with a better economy more funds should be readily available for climbing (pay raises are more likely, and prices for other goods may be more balanced). Now, when we combine these two charts, we’re left with

Chart III:

Here the charts for gas prices and the economy are laid against total money available and total climbing money. What’s most interesting is that as the economy becomes better (increases from econ 1 to econ 2), gas prices increase as well: gp 1 increases to gp 2, negating the beneficence of a better economy. The net result of all this is that no matter the state of the economy, gas prices, or any increase in total funds, the change in dinero available for climbing remains ZERO.

Now that’s depressing.

Dr. C would be proud.

The End of 2008

The last weekend of 2008, Betty, Greg, Kelly, Steve and I went down to Reimer’s Ranch outside of Austin.

Reimer’s Ranch is a limestone sport crag in Dripping Springs, west and just a little south of Austin, Texas, with hundreds of routes covering grades from 5.5 to 5.14. Now I’m not much of a sport climber – in fact I haven’t been much of a climber at all for the past few months. (Don’t ask. Elitism + bouldering + college = motivation killer.) Anyway, sport climbing isn’t what usually gets my blood racing, but Reimer’s Danzig- hard stone rife with routes more fun than Mastodon’s Leviathan managed to inspire even my hell- bent for big wall heart.

Day 1
Betty’s Subaru Outback pulled up in front of my uncle’s house in Austin Saturday morning around 10:00 a.m. After forcing my pack into the already overstuffed trunk I slid into the backseat next to Kelly, a photographer for a local DFW newspaper and a damn strong climber. Our quintet’s weekend stick clip pinned me against the door, but it was nice to be back on the road with the kids; my first honest-to-god climbing trip was with Betty, her then boyfriend Greg, and Kelly to Enchanted Rock (a mostly trad locale also outside of Austin). So there we were again: Kelly and I in the back, Betty in the passenger seat, and her now husband Greg driving.

We met Steve, a long time friend of Betty’s, in the parking lot for Rosie’s, a quiet, almost empty little Mexican restaurant on the way to the crag; it made me think of what the Yosemite Lodge Cafeteria outside of Camp 4 must be like in winter – restaurant workers and climbers. After a couple of breakfast burritos we checked out and headed down over rolling hills, past the county park station, around more hills and into the parking lot. After a hop, skip and a jump we lugged our way down a narrow watershed and past Sex Cave (a name bestowed, I’m sure, for several reasons) which dripped with tufas and stalactites (and a nice stalagmite which is still forming). Down Sex Canyon and right, onto the right band (aptly named) we hit up the Dead Cats Wall and danced up a duo of deliciously dreamy warm ups. Then it was on to the good stuff.

Both bands face the Pedernales River, which eventually feeds into the Colorado. Most of the routes along the left band, which we hit up after the warm ups, are higher than those of the right – fifty or sixty feet as opposed to thirty. First off was Eight Flake – let’s see if you can guess the grade based on its name – a fun climb up a large flake with good holds and King Kong sized feet. Next was Prototype, which Greg, Steve and I did and which is to date the most fun rock climb I’ve ever been on. Seams, large pockets, crimpers, feet that magically appear when you need them, difficult sections thrown in between jug rests, and even a mono all make this dead vertical 5.10 more fun than the bounce house you always longed for as a child. Down from us a bit Kelly (with a little help from Betty) did his project third try: Flinch, at 5.12b.

As we walked along the cliffs Betty and Kelly pointed out some of the crag’s classics: Bastard in the Brothel (.11a and traversy), Suicide Child (.12c, a beautiful route and Betty’s current project), Catharsis Roof (.12c, which Kelly had sent the weekend before), and War on Rugs, another .10d and the last climb I got on that day. Already pumped, I hung on TR over and over after Steve so magnanimously led it. With a crux dynamic opening, sharp pockets all the way, and a pump punishing finishing mantle, it’s my current project to lead at Reimer’s (along with Proto, of course).

Day 2
After a night camping in Pace Bend which yet again proved my intolerance for the cold, we gradually made our way back to the crag. After a few hours of confusion due to work related matters, we got down to simpler, more primal things.

It was Eight Flake again, to start off, after which the kids all hopped on Bastard in the Brothel, a sick looking line I floundered my way out of by saying that I was “saving myself” for another burn on War on Rugs, which was at least partly true. I managed to get in another go on said route, on which every move was easier save the crux, which I still haven’t cranked from the start (yet). We finished the weekend up on a fun .10c which I was (honestly this time) way too tired for.

Night for now – baklava calls.