A Tough Transition

Well, here I am, back in Vancouver, and my road trip officially over. It went by so quick. I miss it already. I think the transition will be harder than I expected. Mainly it's coming back to living in a city that's going to be hard. The first thing I noticed was all the cars, loudly, speeding by. All these anonymous people going to who knows where. The next thing I noticed, and what will no doubt be the hardest for me, is how lonely the city is. In a way, it's ironic that such a crowded place could be just that, and also, how life on the road, even for me, traveling alone could be exactly the opposite. When climbing, and living at a climbing area, I lived so closely with my friends. I would wake up and see them, go climbing with them all day, cook and eat with them. When I wake up in the city, I'm alone. When climbing, if you don't see a friend for a day or two, it doesn't matter, you will see them soon, there are only so many places they will be. If not at the cliff, then at the camping, meeting up is inevitable. In the city I have many friends who, without active planning, I would never see. And when busy, weeks can go by without a visit. At a climbing area, every stranger you meet feels like they could become a friend. Whether its a simple hello when passing on a trail, or a long intense conversation about beta, you interact with the people around you. Here, I'm in a sea of people and don't interact with any of them. It's damn lonely and I don't know if I can or even want to get used to it again.

Wow, that's probably as somber a start to a blog post as I've ever written. Let me try to turn it around a bit. As hard as it is coming home, I'm able to reflect on what was an absolutely amazing trip. It went perfectly. All the different routes I climbed, the projects, the ones I sent and the ones I did not, the warm ups in rifle I ruthlessly dialed and the endless new cliffs I visited at the red, the times spent frustrated, failing yet again, and the those brilliant moments, when mind and body worked perfectly together, those moments when I felt a natural flow on the rock. And all that wasn't just climbing, my injuries, my adventures, the places which went from being brand new to feeling as home as anywhere has ever felt. But what I will remember and appreciate the most for my trip are the people I spent it with. It's wonderful how a shared lifestyle and a shared passion facilitates such a deep and instant connection. After just a few days spent climbing and living with some people on this trip, I felt like old friends, even family. And some of these friends, I just spent a week or two with, and now live across the world from them, yet I still feel the bond we formed and I'm certain we will all climb together again. And when we do, I'm also certain that no matter how much time has past, we will feel just as close as ever. You see, these friends, really get what drives me, they understand exactly how I feel about rock climbing, in the way that only someone who feels the same can. As amazing as this is, there are two sides to this sword. What I mean is, it can be difficult for me to feel fully close and connected to someone who doesn't share my passion, who doesn't understand what climbing means to me, which I feel ultimately defines who I am. As most people close to me recognize, I struggle with balance in my life. By necessity I need to learn how to be happy when climbing isn't my everything, when I'm stuck in the city working or whatever, and a big part of that is learning to connect with different people. Damn, these kinds of challenges aren't nearly as exciting as trying to string together the moves on an overhanging rock face, but alas, probably more important.

In any case, I'll miss my new friends, especially the ones that I wont see for a while, but I'll smile a lot when I think of them. This has turned into a pretty sentimental blog post, but what the hell, I'm running with it now. So that said, to all you rad people out there that climbed with me and shared my trip with me, you know who you are: Thanks. Thanks for being awesome.

Alright, in the interest of keeping this thing small and digestible I'm going to stop there. In my next post I'm going to look over my trip a bit more critically, review what I did right and wrong ( wait, I know earlier I said it was perfect, but that was in the poetic sense, now I'm talking reality) and hopefully provide some tips for others doing similar things. Check back soon if you're interested. Meanwhile, I'm off to work.

Some of (but definitely not all) the great people I climbed with:

Final Days...

The end is near. After almost 6 months on the road I'm nearing the end of my trip. I've got just over two more weeks. I'll probably leave here, the Red River Gorge in Kentucky, Nov 25th at which point I will face a life changing solo 44 hr marathon drive home to Vancouver. I expect to arrive at work for my first day a shell of a man, but I wouldn't want it any other way.

I always wondered what it would feel like when this trip ended. I mean, it's something I've worked towards and looked forward to for years. The trip itself has been amazing and will in many ways provide a sharp contrast to the life I live working in Vancouver. Often I wondered if I would feel depressed. Well, so far I don't feel too much of anything. I'm honestly ready for my trip to end. I'm looking forward to the change. I'm looking forward to seeing a lot of good friends that I really miss. I'm looking forward to taking a regular shower and having a home which isn't also my car. Even work is appealing. I'm looking forward to having something a little more productive to do with my time. It's easy to float along on a trip like this and I think some structure will do me good. Not to mention, I'm tired. I mean don't get me wrong I'm excited about climbing as ever, maybe even more than ever, but damn it, my fingers hurt. My body needs a break. I need to go to yoga class and start running more. I seriously need at least a month off from any kind of exercise that involves yarding most of my body weight off some thin sharp little flake of rock.

In any case, I'm stoked. Life is as good as ever. I've got a couple more weeks of climbing with some of my best friends on some of the best routes in the world and then an epic journey to a much missed home to follow. For the last month of my trip, I was able to afford myself the luxury of joining my home town crew in a beautiful little lake front cabin. James, Chris, Evan, Pete and I have traveled together before and it is always a blast. The cabin has a hot tub, warm showers, beds, tables and chairs! all these things luxuries I have not know for some time. When not climbing we seem to either be eating, in the hot tub, or playing poker. Actually mostly just eating.

As for climbing, it's as it is, up and down, strong and weak, always fun as hell. Over the course of all the climbing I've done this year I've experienced many ups, times when I feel like I can climb anything, like I'm doing everything right, and I feel a flicker, a glimpse of what it feels like to climb well. And then there are all the other days, when I get beat up by the rock. Days when I just don't have it. Sometimes I'm tired, sometimes an injury is holding me back, sometimes it feels like it's just in my head, and fall off because I just let go. In the past few weeks I've had some amazing days out. I pushed my onsight grade to a new level and I managed a lot of quick ascents of some really amazing routes. Then I cut my finger with a kitchen knife and couldn't climb for a week. In any case, the rest seemed to do me well and on return I managed to send three hard classics all in what for me was short work. Cut Throat, Kaleidoscope, and The Return of Darth Moll all went down. Following that high I experienced a very humbling day working Ultra Perm and then a cold hard day getting shut down at Purgatory. And now I have a very sore finger. It seems a new finger injury has developed, and I'm afraid to consider the implications it may have so close to the end of the trip. With a countable number of climbing days remaining, forced rest days spent icing my finger and praying it heals quick are going to be torturous. Ah, the ups and downs. I'm thankful for all the ups I've had on this trip, there have been many and I hope to remember at least some of them forever. And I'm somehow feel like I'm getting to be a little more at ease with the downs. I guess I just love climbing. I even love climbing when I suck or I'm injured.

I sure do hope my finger heals fast. I've really just got two more routes I'd like to do but they are both hard and will require a lot of work. Ultra Perm an awesome power endurance route and The Maddness, a RRG endurance classic remain on my list. Doing either of those routes would be incredible. Hope I can...

I leave you with a few pictures:

Here Pete works Paradise Lost at Purgatory on a cold day:


A typical evening playing poker at the cabin:

Climbing the striking and classic Kaleidoscope:

Fun climbing at the Motherlode:

Ryan busts a flex at the lip of Ultra Perm:

Welcome to Kentucky

Well, it has been a while since I last posted and a lot has happened. I spent the majority of my summer in Rifle, where I climbed some amazing routes, made some great friends had an awesome time. I arrived from Maple feeling super strong and went straight to work on a route I'd been hoping to do for a while. Simply Red is a stout Rifle 13d and features a vicious opening boulder problem followed by rad technical climbing out the steepest part of the Project Wall. On my first two attempts it felt very hard. I failed to do several of the moves. With beta, I began to progress, slowly but steadily. After 4 days of work I was linking big sections, and starting to gain confidence. However, linking the opening boulder problem continued to elude me. On my 5th day of effort I was psyched, and tried hard. Maybe too hard. I finally made it through the start (and one hung the climb) but in the process seriously messed up my right index finger. I felt (and heard) a nasty pop, but I didn't realize how bad it was until I lowered off. Well, now over two months later, its finally improving but still sore. Unfortunately, I never sent Simply Red. In fact, I had to stop climbing on it completely. For the weeks, and months, following, rehabbing my finger became my main concern. I found I was able to climb but had to be very careful regarding the intensity and volume. My summer in Rifle was great, but climbing at my limit, and really pushing myself wasn't in the cards.

But lets not dwell on the past. I've got a month and half left on the road, my finger is feeling good, and I'm at the frickin' Red River Gorge, one of the very best climbing areas in the world. I arrived here 5 days ago after a very dull 22 hour drive across middle America. All I have to say about that is that Kansas is way overrated. I must admit, I was feeling a bit nervous coming here. See, last year I visited The Red for the first time and it did not go so well. I spent two weeks here and didn't manage to send much. More often than not I came off, pumped silly, somewhere between the last bolt and the anchors, something that frustrated the crap out of me. The Red, like no other area I've ever been to, will test your fitness. The climbing here is of a style that is almost pure endurance. Steep rock, long routes, and remarkably little hold variance all add up to awesomely pumped forearms. If you come to The Red out of shape, you will be punished and that's just what happened to me last year.

This year things are going to be different. On my first day, I went straight to an old nemesis. Last year Ale-8-One (named for a local soda) shut me down on the 5 or so attempts I gave it. Well not this time! In fact, I cruised it, clipping the chains without feeling pumped at all. The next three climbing days were awesome. I sent more routes in those few days than I had in my last two weeks at Rifle! See, I've spent a lot of time at Rifle, and climbed most of the classics in the easier grades. It's all new for me here at The Red and I'm loving it.

Over the next few weeks I intend to step it up a notch and go to work on some harder routes. The Madness, Ultra Perm, The Return of Darth Mull, Kaleidoscope, No Redemption, Dracula 04, and the list goes on. So many routes to do! This Sunday my good friend James arrives from Vancouver, followed by Evan, Chris and Pete the following week. The five of us are renting a cabin and I'll be moving out of the van after 5 months of dirtbag living. Life is good.

Daila Ojeda on Ultra Perm (photo Keith Ladzinski):



I hope to post again soon, hopefully with some photos, but until then, I leave you with this rad video of a climb called No Redemption. Its on the list. I recommend turning off the sound before watching (unless you want Weird Al's White and Nerdy stuck in your head for the rest of the day).

Rifle Colorado .. and The Infamous Kneebar

Again, it as been a while since I last blogged. I apologize specifically to my most faithful and dedicated readers, those of you who find yourselves constantly clicking refresh to no avail. What can I say, I've been busy climbing!

In fact, since I last wrote, I finished up at Maple, enjoyed a wonderful week touring Canyonlands National Park in Utah with my beautiful girlfriend, and settled in to my latest climbing locale: Rifle Colorado. My time in Maple ended on a high note: I sent 3 of my 4 remaining projects (the ones described in my last post) including Millennium (pictured below).

Unfortunately, the momentum I felt upon leaving Maple has been squashed by the heat and the hard routes I've encountered here in Rifle. While the climbs in Maple are straightforward and perhaps a bit softly graded, the routes in Rifle are the opposite! The blocky limestone lends itself to intricate sequences, hard bouldery beta intensive cruxes, and, what Rifle is best know for: extremely technical kneebarring.

For those who aren't familiar, a kneebar is a technique which involves camming your lower thigh and foot between two opposing holds to cop an improbable rest, or in more advanced uses, do a tricky move or two. While a kneebar could be useful at any level of climbing, in Rifle, the technique becomes absolutely essential at the higher grades. In fact, I estimate 90% of the 60 or so routes in rifle which are 13+ or harder will feel more difficult than the consensus grade if done without kneebars.

I personally have a bit of a love hate relationship with kneebars. When I first learned of the technique, I found it difficult, awkward and painful. For years, I stubbornly avoided using them all together. More recently, I've come around and embraced the art wholeheartedly. Now, in my standard sport climbing kit you'll find two neoprene sleeves, each with a slick patch of sticky rubber glued to the top side, and a roll of duct tape. A technical kneebar can be very difficult to hold, and if your pad moves at all, you'll find yourself slipping right out of it, hence the duct tape. A couple wraps around the top of the pad, and the skin on your thigh, will really help to hold the thing in place and is standard fair here in Rifle. (In fact, if you look carefully in the above photo, you'll see the duct tape poking out from my shorts) Now, there are certain things I love about kneebarring. I love slotting in a perfect one and dropping into a particularly improbable rest, some times no hands, on an otherwise steep and shear wall. I also love it when a technical crux is unlocked with a kneebar which in these cases aren't used for resting, but rather, for doing a move, much like a heal hook. And I love the duct tape. I love carefully pulling my pads on, and slowly taping them in place, in an intricate pre-redpoint ritual.

So what is it about them I don't like? Well, you really need to come to Rifle and watch a true kneebar aficionado at work to understand. These climbers have so mastered the art they barely "climb" at all but rather simply move from one kneebar to the next. They spend months scouring their projects for every possible kneebar and kneescum they can find and its sometimes amazing how many they come up with. It just gets to be too much! Equally frustrating is how size dependent kneebars can be. Depending on the length of your lower leg, a certain kneebar could either lock you into a full recovery no hands rest, or be absolutely impossible to get.

In any case, love them or hate them, if you want to climb hard routes at Rifle, you better try your best to master them! In fact, in an effort to do just that I chose, as a project, a route in Rifle notorious for copious and critical kneebars. When I first came to Rifle 10 years ago I was just breaking into 5.13s and couldn't kneebar to save my life. I watched a climber on a route called Simply Read. This climb busts out the steepest part of one of the baddest walls in Rifle (the aptly named Project Wall) and as a I watched this climber elegantly slot kneebar after kneebar as he worked his way through sick looking cruxes, I thought to myself that the route he was on looked absolutely impossible. I guess it was that sentiment that has me back here so many years later, intent on doing this climb. I've now spent three days working on Simply Read. It is hard. Harder than anything I've ever done. In fact I've yet to link the opening boulder problem (a v9 on its own!) and successfully climb to the 2nd bolt! But each try I make a little progress and I remain hopeful. Should I succeed, this will surely be a monumental personal achievement.

I leave you with a video of a strong local styling the route (and the kneebars).

Maple Canyon

It's Friday, June 18th. I'm killing time in a little cafe in Provo, Utah waiting to pick up Andrea at the airport in Salt Lake City later this afternoon. Needless to say, I'm super excited to see her, and to give her a tour of Maple Canyon, where I've been climbing for the last few weeks.

Maple Canyon is an amazing unique conglomerate sport climbing area near Ephraim, Utah. I arrived here late May, joining Pete and a healthy crew of Canadians. Life here has been easy. Snow College in Ephraim provides free showers and internet, making it an obvious rest day destination. The camping is right in the center of the climbing area, so most climbing days, we don't have to drive anywhere (love that). A typical day involves awaking to the loud chirping of birds, making coffee and breakfast, then heading off to one of the various walls or caves for the day. With no driving, we're usually done by 3 or 4, and the day leads nicely into an afternoon beer in the sun, then dinner, a couple hours around the campfire and finally bed. Repeat daily.

Camp

The climbing in Maple is steep, often juggy, a bit chossy and super super fun. Our main destination is The Pipedream Cave. This massive amphitheater offers more excellent physical climbing then I'll ever get through. Here is a shot of me working one of the funnest routes I've ever climbed, Toxic Turkey, on the left side of the cave:


My first project, and one of my main goals for my stay in Maple, climbs out the back of the cave through a series of steep powerful boulder problems. The Wyoming Sheep Shagger, proved to suit me perfectly and I was super happy to get the send. It definitely wasn't easy. I fell twice, literally slapping the finishing jug before finally putting it together. In between climbing days, this route had me obsessed! I'd find myself constantly going through the route in my mind, my hands sweating and my heart accelerating, butterflies building in my stomach. It's amazing how consuming a hard project can be, and when success finally comes, how quickly the satisfaction is replaced by obsession over a new project. This cycle makes it obvious that what I'm after, and I think most sport climbers would agree, isn't the redpoint, the tick, the successful accent, but rather the process, the challenge, the project itself. It's those moments when I find myself sitting beneath a tall steep cliff, at the base of a route I now have so well memorized I know every intricate foot sequence, the subtle way I must take each hand hold. And I know I'm going to have to do everything perfect, I know I'm going to have to try so hard, I know I'm going to have to give everything if I want to climb this thing. It's those moments when my forearms are screaming, my mind is consumed, focused so fully that I can't even hear the cheers of my friends below, each move flowing into the next. Or when, I'm half way up, perhaps at a rest, listening to my heart, and my breath, waiting, trying desperately to recover before launching into the next sequence. And it's those moments when everything comes together perfectly and I hit that last jug, and hold it... or not. Its also those times when I come ever so close, and then fall, screaming in the air before hitting the rope, staring in disbelief at the rock that just spit me off, lowering, knowing I'll try again, and again...

And now I find myself, with The Shagger done, and a new obsession, a harder, steeper, longer line called Millennium filling my thoughts, making my hands sweat even as I type this.

I actually have four projects on the go. In addition to Millennium is The Great Feast, an epic, long line right out to the lip of the Pipedream Cave. With 80+ moves, big runouts and a crux right at the end, this is the kind of route that makes you throw up a little in your mouth when you finally clip the chains. Adding to the awesomeness of this pitch is an upside down, no hands bat hang rest 3/4 of the way up. At a big ledge, you spin around so you face out from the rock, swing your legs up over your head and place your knees beside your hands.. and let go, resting your arms until your calves either pump out or your head explodes from all the blood pooled in it.

Another route I hope to do is so different in style from The Feast its almost not the same sport. Body Dump is a short bouldery route in box canyon. With 10 feet of easy climbing to a 3 move crux, followed by a much easier finish, this route is as low in commitment as The Feast is high in it. But just as hard .. maybe harder .. time will tell.

And lastly, I hope to do a route called Loser. A hard steep arete with a classic endurance finish.

So there it is, my next four obsessions, which, should I send them, will likely be replaced by four more, before the chalk and blood from the these has even been washed from my hands.

But likely, these are the last routes I will do in Maple, and then, it is off to Rifle. It's so nice to have no time limit, but to be able to stay until I feel its time to go. So until, next time, I'll be here in Maple, trying as hard as I can and hopefully sending, or not.. but definitely I'll be having fun, especially now that I've got my girl here to share it all with me!

Me on The Shagger:


Pete looking huge on the final boulder problem of The Shagger:


Reveling in a fleeting moment of self satisfaction just after sending The Shagger:

Joe's Valley

Well, it has been a while since I've posted, and I think that's a good thing. The weather has been excellent and I've been spending tons of time climbing, rather than sitting in front of a computer screen (and that's the whole point isn't it?) But alas, weather aside, rest days are unavoidable, and I'm happy to have a chance to write about Joe's Valley and the amazing bouldering it has to offer.

After my somewhat rainy stay in Salt Lake City, and with some time to kill before meeting Pete in Maple, I headed south to Joe's Valley, where I spent 5 days. Joe's Valley contains some amazingly fun sandstone, spread out in little clusters of boulders alongside several roads. The mountainous desert surroundings provide a beautiful setting.

On my first day, I drove to a cave where I knew I could climb without spotters. The Big Joe area has some awesome lines, but for the fact that they end at jugs near the lip of the cave, and don't climb the 20 feet of choss to top out. I was able to video myself doing the area's namesack problem, a super fun v7.



The next day was a difficult one. I quickly realized bouldering alone sucks. I walked to half the problems at Joe's just to realize most were too high or the landings where too bad to climb without spotters. Luckly near the end of the day I randomly bumped into my friend Mike Doyle who was with Kenny Barker and a young strong dude named Dylan. Kenny, an area local, gave me a wicked tour which made the rest of my stay, well, awesome. The first problem Kenny took us too might be the funnest problem in the universe. I'm not even kidding, this problem is sick. It's called "Playmate of the Year", named for two of the coolest and boobiest slopers I've ever had the pleasure of fondling. Check out this video of some strong dude cranking some Joe's classics, Playmate is the first problem he climbs.

Gabor Szekely @ Joe's Valley from Zack Sticcs on Vimeo.

Also memorable from my stay in Joe's was the morning I awoke to a fresh skiff of snow. I snapped a picture of my trusty van in the wintery wonderland. It was beautiful, and thankfully, melted in just a couple hours.



After four hard days of bouldering ( and six days since I last showered), it was time to head to Maple Canyon to meet Pete. I had a really successful trip (for those curious just how successful, my 8a bouldering card has the details) and an awesome time. I also learned a few things about hard bouldering. Mainly, it is so important to rest! While my ubberpsyched attitude and rapid fire approach is undoubtably high in energy and motivation, I found I would often burn myself out way too quickly, not to mention all the skin it cost me. I'm working on taking a more calculated approach and giving myself sufficient time to recover between each attempt. While this tactic requires a degree of patience I seem to lack, ultimately I think I would have sent more if I tried less. I leave you with a picture of my hands. My left one was bleeding in four places after I relentlessly hurled myself at a steep (and rad) V9 called Smokin' Joe. I came close, slipping of an easy finishing sloper move (which was probably due to all the tape and blood), but didn't send. Oh well, it's good to leave stuff undone right? Keeps you coming back...

Little Cottonwood Canyon

Yesterday I had an awesome day bouldering in Little Cottonwood Canyon (LCC). LCC is definitely one of the best bouldering areas in the country. The granite boulders are very similar to the ones we regularly climb on in Squamish. In fact, any of the boulders I saw could easily be switched for one of our local rocks and no one would notice. There is perhaps a slight difference in the granite, but I can't put my finger on it. Is it that there are a few more face hold? Or maybe the blocks are slightly more square cut? Or does it just feel different because of the setting? In any case, if you love bouldering in Squamish, you will love climbing in LCC. With over 1000 problems, and a high concentration in the v7-10 range, LCC is surely worth a trip. So why don't people travel here more often? Maybe they do but I certainly haven't heard of it. Perhaps its due to LCC's proximity to Salt Lake City. Being that the climbing is within 15 min of the city limits, and with no specific camping spot, it really feels like a local's area. I often hear of people road tripping down to Joe's Valley, or to RMNP in Colorodo, but I say LCC is just as good as these destinations, if not better. For a Squamish local, its awesome. All those granite bouldering skills, honed at home, are perfectly transferable.

Yesterday I climbed at an area called "The Gate". After doing a bunch of fun warm ups, I climbed an awesome arete problem called "The Crystal Pinch". After that I worked a classic dyno called "Superfly". The problem is just two moves: start on a incut smiley face finger jug, crank to a good crimp, paste your feet and dyno for a perfect granite sloper jug at the lip. Awesome. Just right of this problem is another classic: "Barfly" which I got video of (below). Just down the road I climbed yet another classic called "Butt Trumpet". This last problem is a lip traverse and, with all the bouldering I've done in Squamish, I had to represent! The slabby and technical mantel finish had me feeling right at home.

Spent and unable to climb more, Kevin took me for a tour of some of the other areas. I saw countless classics, and I'm definitely stoked to go back. Stoked enough to bouldering instead of sport climbing? Maybe not quite, and with temps rising, LCC will likely have to wait for another trip.