Gear Review: The Belay/Approach Croc

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All rubber, all colors of the rainbow and complete with back strap: the croc is a 21^st century climbing staple. Approach shoes are great miles of class-four scrambling, but for a half-mile stroll to the crag—a ten-foot walk if you’re at Rifle Canyon or Horse Pens 40—the croc is a much more breathable, affordable option.

So versatile; so stylish; so wipeable.

The basic benefits of the croc include its easy washability (simply spray with hose or rinse off in your bathtub), “slip-on” nature and holes for placing pins in to show off your interests. The holes in the sides and top of each shoe also provide ventilation for sweaty, smelly feet and exit holes for quick draining after mud-puddle and stream crossing mishaps. Additionally, crocs come in a multitude of colors from lime green to lilac to rainbow, so you can color-coordinate your climbing outfits with all of your rubber footwear.

Crocs are perfect for cragging and bouldering. You can easily slip into and out of them between burns, no additional laces, Velcro, snaps or buttons to slow you down. Don't feel like taking your shoes off between two close boulder problems? Simply stuff your climbing shoes into your crocs for the eight-foot ramble between rocks. Don't want to get dirt on your shoes between the perfect shoe-changing rock and the start of your route? Me neither. Stuff climbing shoes into crocs as above and walk to beginning of climb.

If the approach is flip-flop manageable, go for the backless, clog croc look. Have to navigate a few hills and rocks larger than chipped gravel? Slide down the back strap for extra support. The same goes for belays; if the landing is even and your climber confident, then go for the clog; if the landing is uneven and you anticipate more than three falls, accept some back strap assistance. Go barefoot in your crocs all summer, and pair with wool or other brightly colored tall socks for warmth and style in the fall. Wear until the first snowfall and break them out again as soon as your approach is 87% clear of snow in the spring.

Don’t cheap out—crocs, depending on the style, cost about $35, so saving that extra $15 on a Walmart knockoff isn’t worth the loss of comfort.

Downsides? They aren't ideal for ice climbing approach shoes—snow can make its way into the holes, and sturdier footwear is recommended for longer (2+ mile) and/or more technical approaches. Crocs fit wide, so some sideways movement while walking is common, though, for me, has never led to blisters.

Don't feel like you have to limit your croc wearing to approaches and belaying. They are a comfy option for grocery shopping, fast food excursions and are easily wiped off if you spill beverages on them at the bar. They are great for gardening and tromping around anywhere else that you might get muddy or otherwise filthy. Still unsure where it’s socially acceptable to wear crocs? Anywhere where you could wear Chacos or Birkenstocks and socks is perfect for crocs—with or without socks.

So the next time you’re looking for an approach/belay shoe (or find your old pair of yellow crocs in your closet), consider giving an old rubber favorite a try.   

Autumn: New England's Finest (Climbing) Season

Fall is the season to be in New England. The oppressive humidity of summer has lifted, replaced by crisp air, crisper apples and crunchy leaves. The sun is now a welcomed sight, thawing the first frosts, and the rolling hills are transformed from waves of uniform green to speckled yellow, red and orange—we like to forget about the brown oaks. Every weekend one small town or another hosts a fair, with fresh pressed apple cider, oxen pulls and 700 pound pumpkins, and coffee shops, restaurants and local breweries begin making everything apple and pumpkin flavored, from pumpkin maple lattes to apple crisp to pumpkin cheesecake. New England entertains each of the senses with its fall delights.

The first hints of fall at Sandwich Crag in Sandwich, NH. 

Autumn is also the best time to climb in the Northeast. Summer is the wrong kind of “sticky,” with your hands sweating off even the largest of jugs. Winter is too cold, bringing on numb fingers and toes and later the screaming barfies. Spring simply doesn’t exist. But fall is perfect. Crisp mornings and evenings for bouldering, sunny afternoons for sport climbing and the most amazing, colorful views for trad climbing on White Horse, Cathedral and, best of all, Cannon. On warm September days, you can climb in a t-shirt and belay in a light jacket, never cold but never overheating. On the crisper days of late October, you can find sunny crags to keep your fingers warm on long pitches and wrap yourself in the comfort of a down jacket to belay. Your rest days can be spent apple picking, baking, hiking through peak foliage season and getting lost in corn mazes.

Crunching through colorful leaves between boulders in Lincoln Woods or down the hill into Pawtuckaway adds a little spice to the approach. The crisper temperatures lead to the perfect balance between cool, sticky rock for gripping crimps and slopers and air just warm enough to prevent your your shoe rubber from hardening and glassing off tiny edges. You can bring a thermos of hot apple cider to warm your hands and refuel between burns and munch on toasted pumpkin seeds while you take a break to jump in a pile of leaves.

The sun goes down earlier than in June, but there’s still plenty of light until dinnertime to get in a full days worth of climbing even with a two hour drive—sometimes more or less depending on where you live—to North Conway or Rumney, and, if you get to the crag before noon, you can still enjoy a chilled pumpkin spice brew while, exhausted from working your project, you watch the sunset intensify the blazing foliage. 

There are few things more enjoyable after a long day of climbing than sipping warm pumpkin soup or munching on hot apple cider donuts encased in cinnamon sugar. You’re tired, hungry and have earned your treat.  You can still camp at the crag, though a 20 degree bag is recommended for October, and crawling into your down cocoon with only your nose poking out into the frosty air is like being wrapped in a warm hug for the night.

Alex Honnold once chided me for talking about climbing in New England for the fall. When I told him he should check it out, he reminded me: “There’s this place called Yosemite.” Yes, I’ve heard of Yosemite; I hear it’s quite spectacular. One can spend days on the side of the cliff, never having to set foot on the ground. There’s no El Cap in Maine, Vermont or New Hampshire, and you probably won’t be hanging your portaledge halfway up Cannon, but if you’re on the East Coast, or would like to give some Northeast granite and schist a try, then fall is the time to visit New England.

So, whether you're a local or just passing through, you might as well snap a few pictures of the foliage and sample some homemade apple crisp from a fair vendor while you’re here climbing.  

Spice up your PB+J Life

I love peanut butter. I love jelly. And I love smearing both of them on bread, cutting the result diagonally, putting it into a plastic bag—which I reuse—and finally sliding the compact snack into the top of my backpack. However, I cannot eat the same strawberry preserves on whole wheat, seed-infused bread with Teddy peanut butter every time I climb. Sometimes you have to branch out. Here’s how:

BREAK OUT A NEW NUT BUTTER: Peanut butter is delicious, but, after years of putting it on sandwiches, bagels, apples and Oreos, it can get a little old. Try eating almond, cashew, soy nut or, my favorite, sun butter; just don’t think they’ll taste like peanut butter, cause they won’t, and you’ll hate them.

If you’re nervous about eating a new nutty spread, you can try new flavors of peanut butter. The Vermont Peanut Butter Company has flavors from “Maple Walnut” to white-chocolate infused “Avalance” to “Mad River Moja,” a blend of peanuts, almonds, cranberries, flax, pumpkin seeds, honey and cinnamon—no jelly necessary. If you are less adventurous with your peanut butter than your outdoor activities, you can always switch from creamy to chunky pb for a texture change.

SLATHER ON A FRESH SPREAD: You can put more than just jelly on your pb. Try a pb and honey or, if you have the real thing, a pb and maple syrup sandwich. Nutella is another option for chocolate hazelnut lovers. For those looking for a healthier option, try a pb and banana sandwich—it's an excellent way to carry a banana without squishing it into your backpack. Don’t like bananas? Try thinly sliced apples on a sandwich or rolled up in a pb and apple wrap (see breads below).

JUMP FOR A NEW JELLY: Sometimes you still want the salty-sweet combo of the pb+j—no other nut butter or sugary spread will do—but having your 57^th Concord grape jam sandwich in a row just isn’t cutting it. Try buying a new jelly or some preserves. If you always go for strawberry, try grape, blackberry, raspberry or peach. If you want to get even more creative and spicy, try a pepper jelly, pineapple habanero jelly or strawberry chipotle jam. If you’re really adventurous, pick up some beer jelly, carrot cake jam or coffee jelly. Stop by a local farmer’s market for more funky homemade flavors.

BULK UP WITH A DIFFERENT BREAD: If you love pb+j but are tired of the sandwich, then try a pb+j wrap or pita. Or grab a new type of bread; pick up a loaf of honey wheat for a sweeter touch or 79+ grain for a more interesting texture. Made French toast for breakfast, or need an excuse to? Use the leftovers for a sweet vehicle for your pb+j or pb and maple syrup.

THINK OUTSIDE OF THE BOX: Have you tried a pb+j and fried egg sandwich? I hadn’t until this summer, and it was surprisingly not disgusting; it also packs some extra protein without taking up much precious space. I’d recommend going for over-medium or over-hard to avoid mopping up egg joke on a belay ledge.

Two words: Hot sauce. If you enjoy dumping spicy sauce on everything from your scrambled eggs to midnight spaghetti, then why not try a spicy pb+j?

If you’re feeling spicy and adventurous, make a hot sauce and fried egg pb+j. It’s a picnic breakfast and lunch all in one.
For a more dessert-esque variation, make a grilled pb+j. Make your favorite pb+j or variation then spread butter on the outside of each slice of bread and heat in a frying pan like you would a grilled cheese. Cut in half diagonally and enjoy. 

And then there’s the other answer: JUST TRY A WHOLE NEW SANDWICH.

Climbing Preferences Through the Years: A Pie Chart

        

Two Years of Climbing

It’s official: I’ve been climbing for two years. Now you're probably thinking wow she's still a newbie. I am. I still don’t have enough confidence in my placements to fall on gear. I haven't sent 5.14. Or 5.13. Or even my first 5.12 yet. However, I've been dreaming of rocks and occasionally plastic since a high school friend convinced me to go to our local—read it’s basically a barn—gym in Quechee, Vermont, a week before my freshman year of college.

I've made some interesting outfit choices over the years...
Photo by HP 40 enthusiast Sarah Gallimore

This first non-fifth-grade-birthday-party gym experience was WAY harder than I expected. I had never understood what all those tape strips on the wall were for. I promptly learned. And struggled. A lot. I considered myself in-shape, having run four years of varsity cross country in high school, for which training included lifting 5 pound dumbbells a few times. My 5k times did little to help me up each route, and I fell at least 11 times on each of the 25-foot 5.8s I tried. The little muscle I’d gained bussing tables that summer was the only thing that got me up the wall a measly four times before I could no longer lift my arms. But I liked the feeling of going up. I also wanted a new identity in college, not the straight-A, type-A, runner I’d been known as in high school. The University of New Hampshire club climbing team seemed like the answer; they didn't cut anyone.

A lot has happened in two years. I've sent a few 5.11s, bouldered one V5- (yes, I’m a highly unimpressive boulderer), and plugged a few pieces gear. But those aren't the most important things. I’ve gotten to sample sandstone and Limestone in Colorado, shredded my skin on slopers in Horse Pens 40, toproped wet sandstone at Horseshoe Canyon Ranch, bouldered in Pawtuckaway State Park and Lincoln Woods, placed cams on Cathedral, cleaned my way up Cannon and in Acadia, and found the my favorite 5.11b in Maine’s Evan’s notch. I’ve broken my ankle, had bicep tendonitis in both my right shoulder and right elbow, and potentially broke my hand projecting a traverse. I even interned at a climbing magazine—that’s when you know you're obsessed. I’ve since “graduated” from the climbing team, having put all of my extra time into climbing outdoors, but I still keep my love of climbing absolutely anything—plastic, slabs, roofs, vertical crimps, trees, buildings—with me. Climbing combines all my favorite things: being outside, going up, exercising, using my mind and being with friends.

So what have I learned in two years? Obviously the basics: how to tie a figure 8, how to lead belay, how to avoid putting my harness on upside down and twisted. But I’ve also found an activity to keep me sane. I’m still just as type-A as I was in high school, but I have something that allows me to forget about classes, family conflicts, grocery shopping, and all the other cares in life that demand my attention most of the time. I’ve learned that the best friends I have are those who say yes every time I wake them up at 6:30 in the morning on a whim, hoping they'll want to drive to Rumney with me. I’ve learned that when life seems like too much and I’ve worked myself into a stress-induced state of mania, an afternoon Pawtuckaway bouldering session is the remedy for putting the importance of essays and German exams back into their non-life-or-death place. I’ve learned that with a little time management, an assignment book and occasional sleeplessness, one can climb outside every weekend while taking five college classes and working two jobs. I've also learned that sometimes you climb ten pitches and other times you climb two in the rain, but I never regret a day I've gone out and at least attempted to climb. 

Climbing as a Girl: Sometimes You're Not One of the Guys

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“You’re a pretty girl who climbs; you shouldn’t have any trouble finding partners.”

You asked me to climb because you need a catch, right?

I’ve heard variations of that line more times than I care to keep track of, and I still don’t know how to respond. Do I take it as a compliment? The middle-aged man just called me pretty. But he did also just suggest, perhaps unintentionally, that the number one reason people will want to climb with me is that I’m a young, attractive female. Not what I’m going for.

Climbing remains a male-dominated sport. Yes, in recent years more women have taken to the cliffs and boulders, and some of them climb hard—V14, 5.14—and I do have some friends who are girls who climb. However, I have a lot more guy friends who climb, so I often find myself in a pack of boys—or occasionally 60-year-old men. I really don’t mind climbing with the bros, in fact it’s quite fun; my goal is to become one of them, so they don’t notice that I’m the only girl.

“Every time a guy asks for your number to go climbing, unless he has a girlfriend, he’s looking for something else too,” my friend told me the other day. Really? I have a hard time believing that. First of all, I’m not so narcissistic that I think every boy at the crag has his eye on me. I’m also not looking for anything more than a patient catch and maybe some pleasant conversation when I ask someone to climb. Occasionally I’m hoping that I can toprope some harder routes than I would normally lead, but a reach-in kiss or the dreaded harness grab on the pitch 3 belay ledge is not on my mind. I’m not asking for a date; I’m asking for a climbing partner. Isn't that what the guys I climb with are asking for too?

I’d really like to think that people want to climb with me because I’m a competent belayer who might even have a decent personality. I want to be a fun friend to lap routes at the crag with; someone who will have the patience to belay you while you suss out the beta for your next project. I wish that every time I climbed with a group of guys that the people around me simply assumed that I was friends with them, not dating one of them. No, I didn’t start climbing because my boyfriend brought me to Rumney as a fun date—I found toproping in the gym and then my University’s climbing team on my own. I’m not always the strongest climber of my crew, but please don’t assume that just because I’m a small female that I’ll be the weakest climber in the group.

So what can I make of all this? First, I don’t believe that all males at the crag want “something more” when they give me a catch. My friend Alec is one of my favorite climbing partners. He's always stoked whether we're climbing hard or messing around on V1s in Pawtuckaway, and he'd never seen me before he picked me up at my dorm for a morning bouldering session the first time we met. He's not "looking for anything" except a fun time on some rocks, which is pretty much guaranteed every time I climb with him. However, I am told that I’m often oblivious to those who do have other intentions.

Overall, my goal is to be one of the bros, hearing their girl stories instead of being in their girl stories. I want to get stronger (a little physically a lot mentally), so I can eventually project routes with them. I want to be an equal, one of the guys—or, better yet, just another climber.

How to Begin a Climb: A Routine to Make Sending Your Routine

Having a routine before you begin every climb can help get you into the sending mindset. Whether you’re warming up on a 5.6 or getting ready to give your 5.13d project a redpoint burn, if you go through the same steps each time you will be prepared to focus entirely on the motions necessary to send, and you will try 76.43%* harder. Also, brushing the dirt off your shoes—see number 10 below—will make your rubber stickier, also assisting sending. 

Looking this fantastic while sending is not guaranteed.

1. Eat a snack – you need glucose from simple sugars to power you for the send, no matter if the route is four bolts or fourteen. Gummies in any form—bears, fish, penguins, blocks—are great.
2. Tie in. 
3. Take off crag shoes. Squeeze feet into tiny rubber shoes. 
4. Check your knot. Have your partner check your knot. 
5. Check your partner’s belay device. Have them check it too.
6. Check your hair in case of pictures.
7. Point out places you might fall and special clipping holds to ensure soft catches and minimal short-roping. 
8. Take off jacket.
9. Tell partner how you feel about the route—excited, nervous, unhappy that a key hold is wet. Now tell them how attractive they are. 
10. Brush dirt off climbing shoes and onto pant-legs or your legs if wearing shorts. 
11. Chalk up. Chalk up again for good measure.
12. Grab starting holds. Chalk up a third time. Begin climbing. 

*Statistic has not been scientifically verified.