(not a) Baby

On Saturday, Greg took me up Pitch one Baby (there was begging involved as it is "aweful width") followed by P2 of Wrist (which was wildly fun!). I tried the crux of Baby differently, laying it back, and found that much friendlier and quicker than the chicken-armed slow wiggle I tried last week.

The off-width crack crux of Baby is shaped like an upside-down triangle, about five or six feet high. At the bottom, it is a deep, wide fist crack. It flares going up and, at the top, is wider than my forearm but not big enough for a chimney squeeze. The crack narrows as you go deeper into it and, about half way up, gets shallower on the right side. This combination sent me into profanity last week as, when I got to this point, the shoulder support on my left chicken-arm disappeared.

So, first thing Sunday morning, Greg suggested that I hop of Baby and lead it. Even knowing I can do it, having beta on the pro, I was nervous. I lined up the pre-slung cams for the crux on the right side of my harness and got started. Scott D. stopped by and took some pics.

I climbed up to the crux, getting a few good pieces in along the way. Below the crux, I stared and thought and stared and thought and stared and thought. I couldn't place the cam from a lay-back as doing so would throw me off balance and I wouldn't be able to see the placement very well. I tried anyhow and it didn't work. So I chicken-armed into the offwidth, wiggled up, jamming my foot in, and placed the red 4.5 cam in as deeply and as high as I could (deep to keep the cam and rope out of my way later).


Then I downclimbed to a little ledge and had a nice long rest. I stood there for a long time, staring and thinking and trying to psych myself up (and ignore the taste of bile in my mouth). I finally found my brass ovaries and went for it. The lay-back was delightful and, at the top of the crack, I got a solid blue cam into a horizontal.


The rest of the route was fun climbing up two parallel cracks. The entire endeavor, 80 feet total, took a few hours. Greg gets the gold star for patiently belaying me while I led. It must be like watching molasses flow uphill. He only occasionally said, "quit putzing around and get up there bubba!"

I feel like a rock star!

whitehorse

Over the fourth of July weekend, I was out playing in North Conway. On Saturday, Greg, Wanda and I headed for Whitehorse and hopped on the Standard Route. Its a classic-- long, slabby granite where you can protect with tricams in solution pockets and the occasional cam under a flake. Its pretty run-out and, from the bottom, looks outright sketchy. But the friction is phenomenal! You can just step from knob to knob on the slab, working your way up the face. On Saturday, it was pretty hot and the skies were threatening. When Wanda and I joined Greg at the second pitch belay, the skies opened up. The hot rock was steaming in the rain and the water streaming down the face felt like bathwater. We had no choice but to bail and rapped down in the warm rain. I'd like to get on this route again-- the upper pitches look like a lot of fun.

On Sunday, the weather was threatening so Amy, Wanda, Greg and I decided to stick to single pitch stuff. We headed over to Whitehorse and set up some ropes on the Echo Roof area. I'm not entirely sure what we climbed but it may have been Relic Hunter, Holy Land and Bulletproof. Anyhow, the rock is steeper there, but still mostly slabby. One of the routes we climbed was a nice crack. Also, Greg and I climbed Short Order. Anyhow, whatever we did, it was fun and here are some pics.

Moby Grape

I have been known to say that trad climbers are "fat and lazy." They climb low grade, don't like to fall, go really slow and choose routes for a good "view."

Moby Grape fed me a very large piece of Humble Pie on Monday. Oh my!

Greg, Amy and I rolled out of bed at 5:30 am and headed for Cannon Mountain. We were in the parking lot at 7 and started up the giant talus field. On the hike in, I drew the first blood of the day.


We had two parties ahead of us so we had to wait until 10 to start the route. One second bailed so we adopted a fourth, Joe, and split into two groups.

Pitch one is called Reppy's Crack. Its 100+ feet of hand crack with no rest. For me, the hand crack was slightly off-width. I couldn't get a thumbs-up jam to lock in it and was stuck doing thumbs-down and fist jams. Oh my, my triceps got sore! My feet are also kind of small so I was spared the ankle torquing foot jams and was able to cam my toes in pretty easily. I was panting pretty hard by the time I got to the top.


When we got to Moby Grape, I thought that I would lead at least some of the pitches. I mean, its an 8 but some pitches are easier. I'm pretty strong and ballsy... so why not?

Well, after Reppy's Crack, I resigned to have Greg be my rope gun for the day. Greg rocks!

Up and up and up we went. It was windy and sunny. We drank water like camels. I got to experience peeing on a long route for the first time. It was complicated.

Here is a pic from somewhere around P3 or P4. Thats my foot. Below me is the talus field and beyond that is a road with cars on it. The trees down there are your average biggish New Hampshire trees.


I started to get really tired around P4 but we still had a long ways to go. All I wanted to do was curl into a ball on that belay ledge and have a little nap. Instead I went up, up, up... jamming more cracks, high steps, a belly flop onto a roof...

Here is Amy sitting on the Sharks Fin and Greg climbing up below her.

The shark fin was really cool. I laid back they first half of the right side, threw up a heel and belly flopped onto the top. I was feeling a bit nervous so I wiggled into the chimney behind the fin for a rest and had an interesting time getting out. Humping the fin, I found some hand holds on the face above it and was able to move up above it.

Here is my foot somewhere around P7.

Shortly after this, Greg and I got off route. The dihedral at the top looked like a yucky slime fest so we took a variation that led us through some bushes. Belaying Greg off a pine tree (which he had to climb to continue the route) on a mossy, wet slab, I was covered in black flies. They found the three spots I missed with the bug dope-- behind my right ear, next to my right eye, and on my left bum cheek. I look like I've been making out with an eight-fanged vampire.

Approximately nine pitches total and we topped out. Woohoo!!! It was delicious to lay down for a few minutes on the rock and wait for Amy and Joe to finish.

Amy and Joe at the top...

and me and Greg...


Notice Greg's gaiters. I got worried when he pulled them out of his pack. He had only described the descent as "interesting," let out an evil giggle, and wouldn't say anything more. The 2+ hours of careful bushwacking down began here. There were many times when I was *in* the pine trees, carefully stepping down through branches onto a rock or peaty ground, zig-zagging down steep slopes. Eeek! Its time for me to buy some real approach shoes. The tevas were a bit inadequate.



When we made it to the parking lot, it was 8:30pm. My pants were covered in blood, moss, dirt, dead bugs, lichen, tree sap, chalk, bug dope, sunscreen and gawd knows what else. I was completely and utterly exhausted. That night I slept the sleep of the dead. I haven't slept so well in years.

Trad climbers are not fat and lazy, especially if they climb the big stuff like Cannon. They're more like the marathon runners of the climbing world.

Baby

Amy is on break from school and is visiting from Atlanta. We headed to the Gunks last weekend. The weather was pretty bad! We were one of only two tents in Camp Slime (which is usually full). On the first morning, after a heavy rain, discovered that we had set up tent over a run-off and had a stream running underneath us. The bottom of the tent felt like a waterbed.

We got in good climbing on the first day. Amy lead Rhodadendron (you go girl!), a beautiful single-pitch finger/hand crack. And, in my ridiculous arrogance, I decided that, even though I had no experience with off-width and it was nearly two grades above what I had done before, and I am a beginning leader who isn't ready to fall on her pro, that I would lead Baby. Its *only* a 6+... how hard can it be?!?

Um... I made it to the middle of the crux. I was above my last cam (the #4, gotta love it), chicken winging my arm into the crack trying to get my shoulder in as well (I have bruises on my tricep to prove it), and looking at a move that would involve taking my foot from a straight on jam to a side-ways foot-bar jam. I said the F-word very loudly and, instead of finishing the crux (I was five feet into it and had five feet left to go), I downclimbed it. Baby turned me into a great big baby.

Uh huh, my very first trad flip-out. But now I have a project and I'm HUNGRY for that route.

I discovered that if I wear cotton, it makes it rain. After the first night of heavy rain, Amy and I wandered around the carriage trail looking for something dry.

Um... here is Ken's Crack.



We found a handfull of routes that were dry enough and hopped on. Amy took her first trad lead fall on a #5 stopper. (you go girl!)

And I worked on that whole jamming-thing on Finger Locks. I had a hard time resisting the face holds!


When it rained, we played Scrabble and the Anchor Game...


And, on our third day there, got in just one climb before the skies opened up.