Leading…Trad

My first time leading sport was memorable, a long 5.8 at Rumney with plenty of jugs and rope drag. There were solid hand and foot holds, something I rarely encountered bouldering at P-way, so I really was more focused on not back-clipping than being scared of falling. Leading trad for the first time was not quite as carefree.

I had followed my friends and random acquaintances up Cannon, Cathedral, Whitehorse and several single pitch trad routes at Sundown, so most of my gear-placing  knowledge came from cleaning. I had messed around with some hexes and cams with both hiking-boot-clad feet firmly planted on the ground at the bottom of the upper cliff at Sundown. I knew the basic principals of constriction for nuts and that over-camming was bad, but that was about it. Now, months after my seven minute cliff-bottom practice session, I was going to try it out.
Skyler had invited me to join him and Kevin for a weekend at Cathedral and Whitehorse. I was overtired and had a Monday exam, so naturally I told Skyler I couldn’t go Thursday night, got up at 6am Friday morning and woke him up calling to see if they had left yet, and still managed to be allowed to join. 

I followed a few pitches on Cathedral, getting a taste of 5.9 crack climbing, laybacking like a classic sport-climber. I was perfectly happy with my stress free top-roping, but Skylar promised they would get me leading after Kevin worked on his projects. He kept his promise.
Late in the afternoon we left the Barber Wall and headed to the North End, where I was shown a 5.6 and Skyler’s method of racking. Luckily the crux was in the first seven feet, which was followed by a stand-up rest to place my first piece. The route even boasted a piton two thirds of the way up, so taking a grounder after that point was nearly impossible. I was decently confident with my placements, though each one required at least two minutes of unclipping, testing, and reclipping several cams—sometimes the same two cams repeatedly—before I could move on. The first few placements were easy, no-hands stand-up rests, but after the piton there was a long section of easy crack that I immediately began to run-out to get to the next easy placement. 

“Liz, we know you can climb 5.6, but the point is to practice placing gear,” Skyler called from below. 

Darn, I couldn’t just start off my trad career running out 5.6s. I stopped half-way up the crack and began my usual fiddling, but this time with only one hand, the other jamming. It was the third crack I’d ever climbed and the first time I’d really had to jam my feet into anything before; things became stressful. After several gear placement attempts, I realized I had already used the cam I wanted. My hands were sweating, my foot felt like it was sliding, and I was struggling. I kept trying pieces while simultaneously attempting to jam my foot farther into the crack. I considered giving up and just running it out, but I didn’t want to fail at my first real placement either. Plus it was a 5.6; I’d sent grades higher my first day sport climbing. I took a few overemphasized breaths, picked the best piece I could, stuffed it in, and hoped it would pass the Skylar check when he followed.

Then I went to continue up the crack, only to realize that my foot had most certainly not been slipping out like I thought. Instead it was so well wedged in that I was stuck and in a bit of pain. Double fist-jamming, I slowly worked to unstick my foot without ejecting myself off the wall.
I was relieved and exhausted when I reached the next no-hands, stand up rest and casual stroll over to the anchors. I hadn’t fallen, and when Skyler and I simul-rappelled down to clean and check my pieces he said all of them were bomber except the one I’d struggled on, which he said would have held; however, I hadn’t crush it either. I was humbled and better understood why trad climbing took so long for the leader. I had a taste of why my partners were always exhausted after five pitches of 5.7 when I could go for a run at home after following them. The climbing itself wasn’t the crux; it was knowing that I was fully in charge of saving my own life with some pieces of gear placed correctly in locations I would have to spot along the way. I wasn’t just searching for the next bolt and hoping for a clipping jug. 

I can push my climbing limit with sport without too much terror, but trad is where I'm faced with how much fear comes with greater responsibility.

Post Dawn Wall Predictions

Because you haven’t heard enough about the Dawn Wall in the past three weeks...

Here are some of my post free-climb FA predictions:

• Adam Ondra will book a flight to California ASAP to try to onsight the Dawn Wall.
• Young children named Tommy will all have climbing gym birthday parties.
• The average person will still get free-climbing and free-soloing mixed up. They will remain ignorant that bouldering exists.
• General gym attendance will increase for a month. Only a few will go more than once.
• The Dawn Wall will see increased traffic.
• Tommy Caldwell will begin searching out his next seven year project after his month in Patagonia with his wife,  Fitz, and Alex Honnold.
• The average climber will be inspired, but otherwise unaffected besides perhaps being asked by non-climbers if they too plan to try the Dawn Wall on their next long weekend.
• Kevin Jorgeson will incorporate skin strengthening exercises into training for subsequent projects.
• The general media will still not understand climbing lingo the next time something like this is broadcast.
• Fitz will be crushing routes long before kindergarden (this would have happened whether or not Tommy sent the Dawn Wall). His first ascent of El Cap will be climbing (not hiking) from the ground up.

Giving Beta

“I understand that your beta works for you, and you’re going with it even if you’ve fallen from that same spot 32 times.” - Chris Kalous host of the Enormocast

Knowing the beta can make or break a send. How are you supposed to find the magical hidden side-pull-bucket tucked away behind the arete onsight? Unless you’re very lucky or have watched a few videos of others sending the climb (no longer making your first attempt an onsight), you probably would need a helpful hint to find that money-bucket and send. However, as helpful as knowing the beta can be, one must remember that there are often multiple beta variations for a route and even many boulder problems, and there is an art to giving beta.

Here are two beta-giving pitfalls you should avoid:

One: The Spray-Down

Please refrain from talking me though a climb from the moment I’ve finished my figure eight to when I clip the anchors. This is often referred to as a spray-down. I like discovering the holds and moves between them for myself, and chances are you are bigger and stronger and more into dynamic moves than me, so I won’t be able to use half of what you tell me. Now if my goal is to get the flash and I ask you for a step-by-step run-through that’s different; in that case bring on the spray. However, if someone doesn’t ask for advice let the climber figure out the route and wait till he or she asks for beta to give advice, or at the very least ask before beginning to unload your knowledge.

Two: The One-Beta-Fits-All

There rarely is only one way to send. When giving beta, offer it as a suggestion instead of the sole solution. Try phrasing your suggestions as questions: Have you tried throwing up a heal? Or say worked for you: I bumped to the jug from the sloping rail. This gives the climber options without making them feel like they have to use them to send. Do not command someone up the wall; unless they are of identical build, strength, and skill level as you this will likely prove quite frustrating to the climber. As long as you are not projecting a blank 5.14, there are usually several options for sending.

One great example of alternate beta was Hazel Findlay’s send of Golden Gate, the 41 pitch 5.13b route up El Cap. She was warned that at 5’2” she would be shut down on the notoriously reachy 15.3 ‘Move Pitch,’ because she wouldn’t reach the holds. Instead of attempting the same beta as her 6’2” climbing partner, she got creative and sent in her own style. Here is her recount of her beta for “the move” from eveningsends.com:

“I climbed the lower section of 5.12a and reached the undercut from which you do the Move. I looked up. The next hold was farther away than the entire length of my body! But in the flow of the climbing I saw a faint sloper in between the two holds. I could only hold it with my right and if I got my left foot really high. But I could not match the sloper. This meant that instead of reaching the next hold as a side-pull, I was forced to do a huge cross over with my left hand and take the side pull as a gaston….It sort of dawned on me that I would have to match this horrible gaston and make it a side pull. …. After a few attempts I had reached a point where, I could kick my right foot up on a smear and, in a back-contorting position, ultimately match the hold. Then the next move—reaching the pocket—involved being completely stretched out in a totally off-balance position with foot movements that felt crazy hard.”

We should also remember to not give ourselves strict beta either. Just because you saw someone else climb a route one way doesn’t mean that is the easiest way for you to climb it; it’s just one way that someone sent. Don’t limit yourself: get creative and scan the rock for holds that aren’t caked in chalk. If you’re climbing 5.12 and below, chances are there is an intermediate somewhere to get you to the hold that’s slightly out of reach. Beta can be helpful, but don’t let it limit you from finding your own way to the anchors.

Horseshoe Canyon Ranch

I spent the past two weeks climbing in Jasper, Arkansas with Tommy and Tristan. It was awesome, despite some weather challenges, difficulty finding gas stations at 3am, and having entire walls missing from the guidebook.

Welcome to HCR where camping is $5 per night and climbing is $5 per day (plus tax), and very few people climb during the end of December and beginning of January. Some days we had the over 400 routes and many more boulder problems to ourselves.  

Tommy hopping on the send train to flash Petrified 5.12a.

Tips for HCR:

• The weather in January is quite variable. I heard it could be anything from 16 to 60 degrees outside. I never saw 60, but it did get into the 40s one day, which was awesome. Unfortunately it was also 35 degrees and raining for three days, never got above 20 degrees for a couple days, and the temperature dropped to around zero several nights. The lesson: bring warm clothes and rain coats not just your water bottle and a pair of jorts.
• During the offseason (aka all winter) if it’s cold and/or rainy it’s 222% worth renting a cabin for $95 a night. You get a heater that cranks to 86 degrees, a shower, wood stove, pullout couch, two beds, a mini fridge, a microwave, and a porch for about $25 per night if you split it between four people. No reservations necessary during the winter; several nights we were the only group staying at the ranch.
• HCR is perfect if you like bouldering and bouldery sport climbs. The crux for most routes is right off the ground leading to easy climbing after the second bolt. Stick clipping is often advised.
• There is a four star 5.6 with the biggest jugs I have ever met. Climb it.
• Several areas do stay dry in the rain, but be careful when climbing on wet sandstone; unlike granite it becomes soft when wet and holds break easily.
• Try the nearby day hikes to awesome waterfalls along the Buffalo River as a rest day.
• There is a lot of goat poop. Everywhere. Especially in the goat cave where it’s at least a foot thick. Bring a tarp to set your bags and extra jackets on.
• Chasing and/or catching the goats roaming the property is forbidden.