A Life on the Road

Tribulations

2011-03-05T12:46:00.000-08:00

Sometimes we make mistakes. Sometimes those mistakes result in a broken laptop and a loss of hard earned photographs. Life happens. Roll with it.

Fortunately I was able to salvage much of my photos because I was smart and backed up all my images. Also, fortunately I was able to replace my computer with relative ease. This has led to a little bit of a gap in artistic inspiration either with writing or photographs and so this blog has been neglected for a few weeks. I am working on switching gears and launching my own website where I can exert a little more creative control over the look, feel, and content of this project. That will hopefully be up and running within the month. I hope to post some pictures between now and then.

Thanks for checking in.

Cheers

Januawesome

2011-02-02T13:48:00.000-08:00

Dave Steele exuding awesomeness in front of the Inquisition

Though one wouldn't know it based on the plentiful layering of down coats and talk of whiskey around the campfire purely for warmth, January in Joshua Tree might as well have been summer anywhere else in the lower 48. High pressure and little wind kept climbing in t-shirts a reality over the past month. Not a single drop of rain to quench the desert's thirst yet life here is as vibrant and abundant as ever. Rabbits play amongst the thistle, the lone road runner darts from food morsel to morsel, climbers crawl amongst both the rubble and absolutely classic climbing and the coyote's remind everybody that happy hour is really at 5 am.

Another day in the life

As the sun peeks up over the comic book formation and illuminates hidden valley campground, I welcome it's rays into the entrance of my tent. Waddling over and strumming a few chords on the guitar seems like a good way to start the day. Emerging into the crisp desert air, the cool of night slowly gives way to the heat of day. Climbers emerge from vans, trucks, tents, and caves to greet each other and begin their adventures. After filling up on the ubiquitous bowl of oats I watch others head off with crash pads, or ropes, or nothing but shoes and chalk to go climbing for the day. I usually reach for my trusty ropes and cams, but here in Josh, many times, the days will consist of a little bit of everything. Scrambling in the morning, roping up for the day, and an evening boulder session. That is, of course, if you still have skin on our fingertips after crimping, side-pulling, and jamming what is some the of grittiest rock in the world. Most well travelled routes in Josh are recognized as such by the blood stains from beginning to end.

As the day wears on, myself along with friends hoot and holler at each other from varying heights and distances. The rangers make their rounds as the swarm of illegal campers avoid their gaze. The community bike rolls by and then again a few minutes later with someone different at the helm. A small herd of bocce ball players wanders their way through the campground. At any given moment a jam session is in progress; guitar's, a mandolin, and a harmonica rattle off melodic spontaneity. As our own shadows grow longer the rocks change colors from a savannah gold to deep orange. The sky deepens it's shades as if blushing at it's own beauty. Wisps of clouds accent the fluorescence of another legendary sunset.

Tired, worn, but happy souls gather around the scents of curry, rosemary, and basil. Coconut milk simmers into the rice while brussel sprouts sauté in garlic and butter. Good food, good company, and good scenery are not a rare commodity in these parts. Everyone has a hand in making everybody else's time here more enjoyable. Full from dinner I mosey over to a welcoming fire where smiling faces are illuminated and animated with stories of the days adventures. We lick our wounds while remarking how awesome it was, is, and will be. Stars emerge as the veil of of the sun is removed allowing us an unbridled view of the universe. A bottle is passed around and the tinge of liquor settles into a warm belly. The world of rocks that is literally at our fingertips seems as vast as the night sky above. What adventures the rocks will hold tomorrow remains to be seen, but as I zip up the cocoon that is my sleeping bag I am giddy to wake up, greet the sun, and explore this landscape once more.

Oh Sedona

2010-12-24T17:36:00.000-08:00

While others flock to South America to enjoy the "summer" conditions to be found in Patagonia. My friends and I have opted for a closer flavor of summer. As Utah kicked us out the back door with the frigid boot of sub-zero temps, we piled into our vehicles and headed south into Arizona. What a difference a few hours of driving makes!

Enjoying the basalt in Oak Creek Canyon

Passing through Monument Valley and then Flagstaff we rallied on to Sedona. Arriving under cover of night we awoke to a rugged horizon that traced its way up and down sandstone towers and buttresses. The cream and orange colors layered precisely and ornamented with juniper and cacti. Although the sandstone formations provide the main arena for climbing, we opted to explore some basalt columns tucked away in Oak Creek Canyon, just north of Sedona. A unique hike through a mixture of oak and yucca, sandstone and basalt brought us the the waterfall amphitheater. The waterfall being dry this time of year gave us access to some beautiful climbs with some great character. Most climbs in this sector begin with a lower band of broken (almost choss) rock that leads into a columnar stem-box section that is usually followed by splitter cracks, often through a bulge or roof. A local classic, Black & Tan, had one climbing up a stem box corner and through some roofs on beautiful orange and black streaked stone.

Dave climbing Black and Tan

After a few days in Oak Creek we set on our sights on some of the sandstone towers that dot the Sedona landscape. Our troop of seven split into three teams to tackle separate towers. Dave and I aimed to gun down Oak Creek Spire (a totally separate formation that is not located anywhere near oak creek canyon). Sedona sandstone has a reputation for being... spicy. Far from the quality of rock that one expects to find in the Wingate layers around Moab we would begin climbing on Kayenta and work our way into Navajo sandstone. The reputation of the climbing is such that it led the local guidebook author to title his book "A Better Way to Die". So with a grim type of enthusiasm we set off for the tower, but before we put foot to trail... The vehicle leg of our approach found us wandering a neighborhood below the spire whose inhabitants historically (see David Bloom's guidebook "Castles in the Sand") and from first hand experience did not appreciate any dirtbag, degenerate, no-good (but good looking?), college educated climbers roaming their lanes inquiring about trail heads, "What? Where? NOT HERE!"

Further searching brought us to the proper trailhead, an unassuming dirt patch that began heading in an opposite direction to direct any trail goers well beyond the sanctuary that the residents of the neighborhood we had just been in had hoped to enjoy with their prized homes. Not to sound too lazy, but this begrudgingly added three or four miles of walking to what could easily be a 30 minute approach.

Good karma is always good to have on reserve and so as we looked around in a sort of disgruntled what-the-fuck manner a kind man in a nifty old car pulled up to inquire our business. Upon hearing our story and our intentions he offered up his driveway (in the neighborhood we had just scoured!) and directions to his dog walking trail that just so happen to have a direct line to Oak Creek Spire. Saweeeeeet! Fate smiled on us and we tore off up the trail to the base of the climb.

Wandering the base, looking up, we found the first pitch. A funky chimney exfoliating sand and flakes on all sides. "Yup," Dave proclaimed, "looks like old-school 5.8, this is it." After racking up, a humble nod and "climbing!" set me off up into sandy the chute. Wiggling and worming my carcass upwards, hand holds and foot chips broke off and crumbled to the touch. Apparently years of traffic still left some of the original flavor to be enjoyed.

Psyched and climbing pitch 2 with perfect flare technique

After the first pitch the rock quickly turned to the Navajo type and quality increased dramatically. A gorgeous flare and classic chimney stemming brought us to the lower summit of two. We had arrived to what had drawn us to the climb in the first place, a mandatory gap jump to reach the separate half of the tower that lead to the true summit. Not to often do you get to experience such a move so naturally we had to go do it. Without incident we reached the summit and enjoyed the summit register mailbox.

Slightly disturbed at the prospect of hauling a mailbox up through chimney systems

We were the first back at camp that evening. John and Clay arrived soon after and that left us wondering where our three compadres, Justin, Joel, and Kelly were. They had left earlier than everybody to climb the Mace, a classic outing that had an optional, albeit more notorious gap jump on the descent. Just when we were beginning to seriously wonder, they arrived unscathed except for the new boot that Kelly had acquired from the hospital. He had broken his ankle on the Mace jump. Bummed he got injured, but glad that they were safely down and out, we exchanged the usual campfire stories of the day over a meal fit for kings, gleaned from the plentiful dumpsters of Sedona's finest markets. Oh yeah.

Kelly styling the utah desert

P.S. Kelly was doing well enough to drive himself home to Kansas to recoup for the winter. We pitched in and got him a hang board to keep his psych up during the winter months so that he may hopefully joins us again down the road. Get well soon buddy!

Turkey Day... and Night

2010-11-28T07:39:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving has always been a favorite holiday of mine. As a kid, getting time off school to leisure in a warm home and eat a feast seemed great. As time has passed, I value not so much the time off (I get plenty of that) but the coming together of people to create an experience with joy and flavor. Last year saw me enjoying thanksgiving in Indian Creek. This thanksgiving saw me enjoying thanksgiving in Indian Creek with zero degree temps. So what do dirtbags do for thanksgiving you may ask? There's no football to watch, no family quarrels, a picnic table and coleman stove for a kitchen, and the closest thing to a parade are people juggling, hoola-hooping, and throwing an axe at a stump. To say the least, an Indian Creek Thanksgiving is a little different. But tradition must go on and the one thing that doesn't change is the food. More than ever, because we are freezing and hungry, do turkey, stuffing, yams, pie, biscuits! sound so good. We had all of these things and more on our annual feast, but at first we were weary about how we could pull it off.

We didn't have an oven, but we did have wood. So we dug a big hole. A hole? Yes, a hole. Then we built a big fire. Our plan was to harvest hot coals from the fire and submerge them in the ground surrounding our bird (wrapped in tin foil) and burying it thus created an insulated oven. It was dark when the turkey went in the ground and we had planned to dig it up in the morning. We had faith in this process from previous success stories but no one present had actually used this method before. But before all this happened our turkey needed prepping.

Now I confess that my experience prepping the official turkey is nill but it was on me to prep since I had picked it up. The turkey had been frozen since purchase because it was freezing in camp so it needed to thaw. I cut off the plastic wrap and was a little taken aback to see a plastic contraption embedded into my turkeys ass. After getting the bird half thawed we begin to remove this foreign device which had invaded our turkey. Half thawed means still half stuck. Dave and I watched in horror as his arm, past the wrist, rips out the frozen contents of the poor birds hollow cavity to reveal a turkey neck. Dave muttered something along the lines of "it's so wrong" as I cocked my head in a "what the fuck?" fashion. Apparently some people like to use the neck of the turkey. Im all for not wasting anything and I realize the convenient packaging of such a measure, but do they really need to shove the head up the ass. Furthermore, we concluded, the odds that the neck and body were from the same bird were slim to none. Damned factory produced turkeys. Sigh. But we were hungy and freezing so we hurried along, stuffing the bird with vegetables and garlic, wrapping it in bacon, and drizzling with olive oil. Giving it the tin foil treatment and a slap on the ass we buried our bird with a heap of hot coals to return the next day.

The oven and crew

As we dug up our bird anticipation was high. Had our experiment worked? The ground felt warm to the touch just below the surface. A good sign. We quickly but carefully excavated the foiled coffin as warm juiced flowed from a hole in its side. We excitedly revealed the turkey itself only to find it not even half cooked. Shut down. After a quick laugh at our hubris as dirt roasters we moved onto plan B (which is now the new plan A for future reference). Using an existing fire pit we piled rocks up around the sides, pilfered the grill from our coleman stove, and installed a conveniently shaped log as the roof for our new stone crafted oven. Fancy. Soon we had the bird simmering above a bed of hot coals and the disappointment of turkey breakfast turned into the reality of turkey lunch. We soon abolished plans to go climbing, dedicating ourselves to the cause. Hours went by with careful watch. As the hunger peaked our bird began to feel like it was done. Wrapped in tinfoil it was still a mystery, but we began to prepare our side dishes: cornbread stuffing, flame-broiled pumpkin pie, squash soup, twice baked yams, biscuits with cranberry sauce!

Removing the turkey from the heat we could smell its perfection before we even opened her up. The strips of bacon had seared to the outside, glazing the turkey in all their greasy glory. The vegetables provided moisture for the meat within and as we began to cut the meat it fell right of the bone. Crappy meat never tasted so good. As the day wore on we would cook another turkey and have a second feast at dinner time. The night would wear on with the crackle of a warm fire, the strumming of a banjo, and laughs of camaraderie. We would go to bed satisfied if not a little concerned about climbing the next day with what felt like an extra fifteen pounds.

The Shape of Things

2010-11-11T14:29:00.000-08:00

Have you ever wondered what our, our lives, our experiences would be if we (humans) were a different size? Maybe you have.. maybe you haven't. But after a day of struggling to lock in the right fist jam, squeeze my way though a chimney, or smash my fingers into a tips crack one can't help but ponder the subtle nuances and difference that make up our physical being and how that translates to the world around us.

Dave doing some major pondering on King Cat

For me, my body, my size, translates to climbing. And boy am I glad my 5'9" frame is what it is because I was thinking how different our experiences would be if we were much smaller or much bigger. Much smaller and our world would seem grandly more vast, we would have to deal with all sorts of other potential threats on the wild animal front, we would require less food to sustain us, but at the same time have a harder time acquiring that food. And bigger? Well, our world would seem smaller, wild animal threats might be diminished, but we would require more food, resources, etc. to keep us going and that surely would have pushed our world deeper past its capacity brink further than we have managed to do so as is. So evolution has left us with a Goldie locks state of being that is not to big, not too small, but just right. Good. Great. What tickles my fancy is when I think about all this in relation to climbing. Much smaller and we could scurry like mice and lizards, effortlessly over the rock barely able to admire it as sport. Or say we were the size of the fabled gnome. Surely something like El Cap or even the local crag would be much more daunting and your average hand crack would be a heinous offwidth, rendering anything much wider unclimbable. If we were much bigger the climbs that I am currently enjoying at Indian creek would lack there awesomeness in length and sustained nature and again the sizes and sheer amount of cracks that would be deemed climbable is greatly diminished. As humans stand now, we seem to perfectly fit our natural surroundings to make rock climbing the enjoyable, awesome, plentiful experience that it is.

Again, Dave is studying himself in his environment

Think about it. We can climb cracks that range from a half-inch to 8+ inches in size. This size range encapsulates almost every quality crack that areas like Indian Creek or Index have to offer. The cliffs we approach always seem daunting but doable. Large enough inspire but not too large to seem endless or impossible. This human to rock ratio is obviously prevalent around the planet too where, once climbable rock is found, we are able to establish routes up seemingly every nook and cranny to the top. Sure we are conditioned to deal with what we know and as such overlook the potential climbs for gnomes or giants and only see what is there for us. But what is there is ALOT and a place like Indian Creek surely would not be the grand, awesome, inspiring place with it limitless options for climbing if we were not the right shape and size to enjoy it cracks.

We are a nice size for great camping

as well as silly bouldering

This was just food for thought and a random tidbit from the recesses of my mind but as I sink a bomber hand jam or struggle up something just narrow enough for a double fist stack, I am reminded and thankful of my modest frame in a world of whales and ants.

Glad i'm not an ant

The desert southwest is as great as ever. The friends and strangers along the way are as enjoyable as ever. It is good to be living a life that feels right.

Early morning lava flow ; )

Cheers for now.

Hiatus

2010-09-29T09:37:00.000-07:00

Sunset at Trout Creek

This blog has not seen a post in quite sometime. It is not that life has been uneventful over the past few months, but probably settling into the comforts of a home have led to internet complacency. Having access all the time as opposed to whenever I'm around a free wi-fi has made the internet less appealing. Go figure. But it is soon that I will again be taking off in my vehicle for another stretch of climbing along the west and searching for internet hot spots.

This past summer though was not uneventful. Just as the North West began to elicit symptoms of the fantastic summer weather we typically have in this region I sustained an injury. For the first time since I began trad climbing I had some pieces of protection pull out during a fall. I hit the ground and kinda fucked myself up. I've hurt myself bad in the past with my other hobbies so I know the drill. After the usual hospital visits I was psyched to leave with a good prognosis: no breaks or fractures, just some major bruising in my lower back.

This accident happened to come a week before I was to introduce a longtime friend to mountaineering on a climb of Mt. Baker. Feeling overly ambitious (i could walk) and a little bad that our longtime plans for this might get put on hold we loaded up the gear and hiked in to a basecamp a week after my fall. It quickly became clear that I was in no condition for a summit push and we walked out the next day, but it was a beautiful day spent in what is one of my favorite wilderness areas.

So I waited and waited.... and waited. For all the times I've been injured I should know that healing is a long process. Period. Regardless, I get anxious and usually can't wait to get back out to doing what I love. As the long summer days dragged on I went through my rehab exercises and it wasn't until two months later that I felt confident enough to get back on the stone, more or less, pain free. It was at this juncture that I met up with my good friend Mike Pond to send him off to grad school on style.

After meeting in Bellingham, Mike and I headed east long highway 20 toward the Methow valley. Our objective was an unclimbed line on Silver Horn, a sub-peak off of silver star mountain. Silver Horn had seen two previous ascents in recent years, first was The Chalice (5.10 III Darin Berdinka/ Justin Thibault) and then Less Sprayin', More Playin' (5.10 III Blake Herrington/ David Trippett).

Blake showed me this potential line over a year ago and since he lives in Colorado now... well, it was about time. Mike and I had actually showed up the previous summer to climb Silver Horn but an allergic reaction to athletic tape thwarted our attempt before it even began. A detailed trip report can be found at cascade climbers.com Spice of Life Trip Report.

Some photos from The Spice of Life

After a successful climb with Mike, I sent him off to Ohio... OHIO!! For graduate school. Not a mountain within a day of driving and Mike has two years in their outdoor education program. As a consolation though the The Red River Gorge is a weekend trip away. Good luck to him!!

Splitters abound at Trout Creek

A week later I found myself on Mt. Rainier leading what was going to be the second climb with my good friend Peter and his co-workers Dan and Claire. For everyone but myself this was their introduction to mountaineering. It always brings me a great sense of accomplishment and gets me psyched to witness someone's introduction to climbing, especially when they have an enjoyable experience. Our climb went very well with great weather, good company, amazing views, and we were the only people on the mountain that day!!! Not a soul on the Emmons route or at the summit, a rare treat!!!

September brought less than ideal weather to western Washington so I headed to Smith Rock and Trout Creek for a few weeks of friends, debauchery, and a little climbing amidst more enjoyable weather. This seemed like a primer for the months ahead as my friend Dave and I prepare to head back into the desert southwest. I am still dealing with soreness and some pain from my accident, but am psyched to be back at it. I look forward to continuing to post stories and photos as I wander my way back through climbing's great venues, those that nature provides.

Cheers

Ah, the sweet smell of the Juniper

2010-03-26T15:02:00.000-07:00

The latest member of our climbers troop: Neva

Back in the Utah Desert.

Alien horizons. Red dirt. Red rock. Unpaved roads.

Cows. Coyotes. Jackrabbits. Snakes.

Varnished stone. Distinct lines. Splitter cracks.

Clean air. THE blue sky. Open space. Vast expanses.

Drifting clouds. Rain squalls. Deep thunder.

Weak beer. Hot tea. Warm oatmeal. Spicy tacos.

Blood. Sweat. Smiles.

Joel and I rolled into the Moab area a few weeks ago. The first thing we did was go climb Fine Jade in the Castle Valley on the Rectory. This climb had been on both our radar for quite some time so we figured we would kick off the desert season with a bang. It was oh, so sweet!

On the approach with The Rectory ahead. Fine Jade ascends the slender but prominent face visible in the pictures.

On top we enjoyed views of another team of climbers on the Priest with some cool views of the exposed stemming moves! And the ubiquitous summit shot. It was nice to get on a high summit for a change. It had been awhile.

Prepping the rappel down the route.

After this we headed down to Indian Creek during the midst of many other individual's spring break. Our first week was a crowded one as displayed by the line for the only outhouse in the entire area.

Day one saw us skunked as the climbs we had intended were occupied and while searching for other lines I happened to kick (with my shin) a pile of talus. A quick observation of the ensuing wound revealed a hole with my bone underneath. Weird considered it didn't hurt at all. Such as it was, a quick application of anti-septic and a butterfly bandage had us wandering down the trail, thinking it wise not to temp the gods that day. We did however take a side trip to some ancient -Anasazi?- ruins tucked away in the sandstone cliffs.

I admit to having been slacking on taking photographs this time around. My camera sat in the car buried for about a week. I did manage to grab it during an early morning piss to capture the early sun shining upon our front yard vista.

Life is good.

Self Titled

2010-03-14T13:44:00.000-07:00

click me ^

I have to use my brief periods of internet judiciously. "Surfing" the net is not really an option for me right now. I must rely on the welfare of local coffee shops to grant me access to the world wide web so that I can (happily) stay in contact with my climbing partners, friends, and loved ones while I am on the road. In a broader sense, my "conveniences" are limited. At any given moment I have not showered in what is normally considered an "acceptable" amount of time. I am out of cell phone service. My water comes from pre-filled jugs. Food is scraped together from various sources. Shelter from wind, snow, and rain is not always available. It would at least take a drive of a half hour or more to reach these services. That is the way I like it.

Self-portrait and another moment in camp.

I do have everything that I do NEED and some extras. But for me, the simpler the better. For those who have not experienced this level disconnect from "normal" living I have heard phrases like "gross", "dirty", "I can't imagine...", "I could never..." But let me re-iterate, I am by no means "of the grid. All the services one needs are within relatively short reach, but I choose to shirk them for periods of time. Instead of the constant stream of noise that is traffic, cell phones, and people trying to sell you something, I have chosen to give myself the space to hear myself breathe. To listen to the silence that is then frequently augmented by the sound of birds, rain drops, dirt underfoot, and friends hooting and hollering for no good reason than the exaltation that comes from the boundless sky, the limitless horizon, the space to dream... real freedom. For those that say "I could never...", they unfortunately are limiting themselves to their world at hand, and are seemingly unwilling to look up to the heavens, see where the horizon goes, or continue up and around the bend. This is what our drive-thru, pre-packaged, on-demand world has given us. A dead sense of the bigger picture. Bigger than us, our families, our country, our world.

One does not necessarily need to climb or call a national park their home to cultivate this sense of the awesome, the grand, the infinite. One does not need to even leave their own home. But it does help to do so. Disconnecting oneself from the constant sensory bombardment gives your senses something to search for. Like a good photograph, one clear focal point brings the whole picture together, rather than some jumbled mess of chaos. This is not some recent revelation that I have stumbled upon. This is ancient wisdom. It is wisdom that I have sought out, in my own way. It's clear too that there are others who have picked a similar method as mine to cultivate their own happiness as demonstrated by the many kindred spirits I have met along the way. And that's what it is: cultivating happiness.

Andy crushing Heart of Darkness and getting crushed by the Man Eater

So for the past month I have happily enjoyed the days living in the mojave desert. Tucked away in the Hidden Valley campground located in Joshua Tree National Park. My visit last November for one week was all too brief and I came back for more. I will also come back to this place many, many times to come. On a purely statistical level, there are over 6000 known climbs in J-Tree. I have maybe climbed 50? This trip was more "productive" and thorough than the last and I was able to explore more of the park, its inhabitants, and it's hidden gems. I was able to experience success and utter defeat on what I can consider the most varied climbing I have ever enjoyed. Chimney's, off-width climbing, hand cracks, steep slabs, crimpers, roof's, and the best scrambling/down climbing anywhere.

Andy and Joel showing some California love and Joel en route to Moab

Dave (sans harness and rock shoes) and then Myself getting funky on the granite.

It was with a bit of reluctance that my buddy Joel and I recently left Joshua Tree behind for the red desert mesa's surrounding Moab, Utah. It's springtime now and Joshua Tree will be to warm soon while the iron rich desert of the Southwest comes into bloom and for a brief period of a month or so provides warm days and temperate nights before itself becomes a sweltering cauldron of heat, dirt, and rock. I am back in my go-to internet cafe, the Wake-N-Bake, enjoying their locally famous fish tacos and gracious free internet. Tomorrow, as the weather clears, I should be headed back into desert. With as much water as I can carry I will go stake my claim to a tent site in Indian Creek. No water, electricity, cell service, or any services for that matter for 50 miles (30 if you count po-dunk Monticello). Just the way I like it.

Tomorrow I should be treated to an unimpeded view of our universe, the night sky washing over the mesa's, revealing every star that my eyes can detect from our humble outpost here on earth.

People as Places as People

2010-02-27T11:30:00.000-08:00

Worrying is a funny thing. Our minds create worry to try help anticipate the future. But we all know that every moment from here on out is unpredictable. One thing that I have found is that it is just best to let it all flow.

It was with this attitude that I pulled into Joshua Tree in the early evening last week. I was on my own. No one traveling with me and no one specific to meet up with when I had arrived. Although I knew J-Tree as a climbers hub with friendly kindred spirits my mind sometimes would prefer to worry about what I would be doing and who I would be doing it with without any "official" friends on the agenda. But worrying is useless. I remind myself as I roll through the crowded campground to just "let it flow".

Realizing there were no available spots the next logical step was to see if anybody is willing to share a site, at least for the night, until I can figure things out the next day. I find a site with one car (the limit is two per site) and get out to ask if I can occupy the other available spot.

"Hi, my name is Matt", introducing myself as I walk up on the two shadowed figures with headlamps.

"Hey Matt.... I think I know you", comes the reply. My interest is obviously peaked.

"From where?" I say.

"Yosemite. My name is Ben and you're more than welcome to stay here" Ben! I have met him before, in the valley, a friend of a friend. Not five minutes into my stay here and I've already run into someone I know. He ushers me over to a crowded campfire where more climbers are gathered, swapping the usual war stories in their crass nature. I remind myself that it was silly to have any doubt as to the fun and friendship I would have here in Joshua Tree. As the glow of the fire flickers into the night it is clear that I have arrived, as I intended and exactly on time.

A week on now, I have eased into the lifestyle that is the Joshua Tree. Mellow mornings. Warm-up solo missions. Bloody and brutal climbing. Torn clothing. Dirty faces. Big grins. Loud laughter. Communal dinners. Campfire music. Midnight moonlit adventures.

Everyone is happy. Everyone is psyched. And no one seems to have a worry in the world. Not even my new friend Dave, who, with a optimistic smile, says he lost his wallet with his money and is going to find a temporary job to keep the dream alive.

The Ouray Lifestyle

2010-02-10T14:31:00.000-08:00

So a few weeks have come and gone since my transplant to Ouray, CO. This is truly a special town. The inhabitants are friendly, outgoing, and always willing to put on a smile. Friends are abundant and it's hard not to make more as you settle in.

While I've been out climbing lately I have been making an effort to record video in the hopes to assemble some sort of entertaining short for someone's viewing pleasure. The first part was a spur of the moment attempt to capture the usual morning on the way to the ice park. Most of the climbing shown however is outside the park on natural lines in the surrounding area. Hopefully those of you who have not actually witnessed any ice climbing before get a sense of the patience, thrill, and tenuous nature of climbing on this medium. Hopefully my mom is not bummed!

This was entirely filmed with my point and shoot camera and I think it turned out quite well for a dirtbag flick.

Music credit goes to the Fleet Foxes, Lykke Li, and the White Stripes.

I had a fun time making this so please enjoy!

The Ouray Lifestyle from Matt Van Biene on Vimeo.

Ice is Nice

2010-01-25T11:03:00.000-08:00

So after a month hiatus from climbing I now have settled into the amped up little mountain town of Ouray, CO. My break from the road was well spent with family and friends for the holidays. I feel privileged to have been able to return home for a brief period and spend time with such wonderful people. It's tough to leave those you care about so much and I could easily hang back at home and do my thing there, but this adventure is what I intend to accomplish and will gladly see it through. After having my first flight out of Seattle canceled I signed up for the same exact flight the next day for a re-do attempt and made it Denver to pick up my car which was left at a family friends house and graciously watched for safe keeping during my trip home.

Self Portrait while waiting in the airport for word on my doomed flight.

Not too many places will you see a sign like this!

Soon enough I was in Ouray and tying up my boots, fastening the crampons, and donning ice tools to re-acclimate myself to vertical movement on frozen water.

Sharpening the tools and walking through town to the ice park (its about two minutes outside of town!)

The pack loaded up!

It has been awhile since I've ice climbed and to me, it is really nothing similar to rock climbing. The strength, technique, and mental space required differs between the two. Ice climbing can feel like a lot of pull-ups and instead of many varied movements, one relies on his ability to swing-kick-kick-swing-kick-kick-swing his way up a route. Also, when on lead, it is widely accepted that you DO NOT fall. That is why a place like the Ouray Ice Park are such a treat. It allows you to dial in your ice skills in a relatively safe and controlled environment, top roping your way up seemingly sketchy ice climbs with little to no consequence.

Spectators on the bridge. The next photo shows one area of the park. The pipes in the right feed water to nozzles placed throughout the park (also visible in the picture) that get turned on at night to replenish the ice during the evening for the next days festivities. Ingenious!

For the past week or so, this is what I have been doing.

Myself enjoying the comfort of the top-rope on the first day out.

Living here is not so bad either. I am sleeping on the floor of a nice little condo with all the amenities: fridge, kitchen, fireplace, and Internet! What more does one need?

Brianna and Nate are psyched on the Nachos :D

My roommates are good people too. My old co-worker and friend from previous climbing adventures, Brianna, is my host here in Ouray and the other two roommates, Nate and Ethan are her peers from Prescott College.

Ethan (in the sunglasses) and Nate. Ethan sports the latest in ice climbing fashion.

They are here on an "independent study" course, ice climbing and studying ice formations. Basically they are getting credit for seven weeks in Ouray. Sounds like a pretty sweet deal if you ask me. These three troublemakers also recently attended the Outdoor Retailer show in Salt Lake City leaving me without climbing partners for a few days. This proved a fun experience because with the ease of access in the Ouray Ice Park I was able to top-rope solo for the duration of their absence. This simple rigging process is safe, reliable, fun, and a good way to get in many laps on a climb in a day.

The screaming barfies shaka (induced by blood leaving the hands and then coming back)... it is painful. POV photo mid rope solo.

I am now feeling pretty well prepped for the next few weeks here in Ouray and am ready to tackle some natural lines in the surrounding area. Patience will be key though as recent snowfall has contributed to higher avalanche warnings in the area so we will have to wait for those to calm down a bit. Hopefully soon though I will have some pics and stories of days spent out on the real ice lines of the area.

The hard to trust ice screw even when placed well, but they do work. And finally, some dude who seems to be having more fun than anybody else.

Cheers

Crack School

2009-11-28T12:45:00.000-08:00

I am writing this blogpost inside the comfy lounge area of the Wake N' Bake Cafe in Moab, UT. I have been in Indian Creek (40 miles south of Moab) for the past two weeks. Of all the destinations dotted along this trip, this is the place I have looked most forward to exploring. I have been to Moab and the surrounding sandstone formations twice before, but that was as a mountain biker. This area, as viewed through the lens of a climber, yields a totally different experience. Not the least of which are the specific areas that become your playground.

When on a mountain bike, most of what you seek is within the immediate Moab area. This means you camp close to town and pass through on a regular basis. Climbing on the other hand takes place in the heart of the desert, among the vast basins, sprinkled with cottonwood trees and cattle that sit below the sandstone cliffs. Just as impressive as the formations that surround Indian Creek is the open space that makes it all possible. Everything seems crisp and the air is pure. The November climate can be bitter cold at times, but there is no lack of sunshine to keep one motivated and feeling fresh. More than once this month we have climbed in a T-shirt.

As soon as we arrived in Moab (it was cold and snowy!), Mike and I made the routine stop at the local grocery. Here we met Julian, who when we stepped out of the car and recognized two dirty, slightly worn kindred spirits asked, "Are you climbers?"

Mike on day one and and standard hand crack rack

The obvious "Yes" resulted in our introduction and subsequent invitation to campsite #9 at the Bridger Jack Campground. After the usual pillaging that takes place in a grocery store before entering a "limited services" area we made our way into Indian Creek and promptly arrived at campsite #9, the place I have called home for the past two weeks. Julian was there with his friend Dave. Climbers are quick to make friends with other climbers and we settled into the usual campsite routine. In the days to follow, more new friends would arrive: Pablo, Bryan and Bryan, Shane, Cally, John and Rob. Most of them are from Wyoming with the exception of Bryan who is from Las Vegas, a place we recently visited for a few days en route to Moab and enjoyed some quality climbing.

A shot from our Red Rocks/Las Vegas Advenure and Pablo honing in on the roof of Dos Hermanos.

Pablo psyched on the send of Dos Hermanos and Shane working Camping Under the Influence

Together we have roamed from wall to wall, enjoying some of the best climbs I have ever had the pleasure of ascending. This place is truly world class. I'll share an entry I made into my journal a few days ago.

November...? Don't know the exact date and don't care. I am in Indian Creek, where the road seems to end and the vast desert begins. Surrounded by the monolithic mesa's that accentuate the open space all around. The red wingate sandstone is a stark contrast to the deep blue sky. Both keep each other in balance, the rock, with its massive prows and subsequent canyons hold in the adventure. Their nooks and crannies containing the most perfect cracks, a climber's dream. The sky, with its spacious hue, allows one to see beyond the limiting stretch of the rock walls and gaze upon desert towers and far off basins, giving birth to dreams that spur the mind to concoct further adventures. All this in a place where it can be so still at times that ones mind will also stop and and they will simply understand that they are among one of nature's most unique examples of beauty. This place creates balance, inward and outward.

It is harmony.

It remains, for the most part, especially to these virgin eyes, unspoiled. Instead of the manicured roads, overbearing park rangers, and monetary requirements it remains rugged, free, and pure. Climbers are the only user group here... well, us and the ranchers. It is originally their land. Still, harmony can be found there too. Climbers clinging to the cliffs while the cows graze below. A fine balance that has been kept in tact for the past 40 or so years, since climbers first realized the potential of crisp sandstone cracks for vertical endeavors. That balance has not been easy to maintain and their seems to be a sense that things will change in the future, to the manicured, pay-for-camping that we all "enjoy" everywhere else. So it is with a deep sense of appreciation that I am here, now. To be here before the gaping maw of the masses force more regulation to keep this place from being overrun. Climbers, thankfully and understandably, have for the most part remained respectful to the land. I see very little trash in a place with no trash cans. The delicate soil around the trails has also largely remained visibly undisturbed. We (climbers) remain in awe and do not wish to tame this place. Probably because we know we can't, as we are constantly humbled by the steep imposing cracks that leave us bloody, frustrated, and completely satisfied.

I am learning crack technique and with that comes gobies, the open wounds suffered from crack climbing. I gave my friend Scott my camera to shoot me climbing Scarface at the end of day three.

Mike climbing Scarface and the mega-classic Supercrack, "the climb that started it all"

It should be noted that climbers are not perfect and despite mostly good mannered people there are still those who choose to visibly mar, pollute, and disrespect the land. But I remain content with the status of this place, knowing how many climbers frequent this place year round.

Mike, Dave, and Julian after a good day.

Also, of note, the recent Thanksgiving day did not go un-celebrated. We climbed in the morning then back at camp enjoyed the "traditional" dinner of ham, turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, pie, jagermiester and jack daniels. The bonfire raged into the night, everyone thankful to spend turkey day (and night) under the stars and among friends.

Thanksgiving dinner and the campfire crew.

Like I said before, I am in Moab at a pleasant cafe, enjoying a rest day, amazing fish tacos, and internet access. The weather report for the week looks stellar and I plan to stay here until its too cold to climb or I am too bruised and battered to keep climbing.

Until next time...

The day with Ron

2009-11-22T09:50:00.000-08:00

This is just a quick update, but more of a recognition to a lovely day that we had in Joshua Tree. Ernest knows Joshua Tree very well so when he encountered a professional photographer in the park who was keen on taking some photos of climbing he offered up an afternoon of great climbing, great light, and great company. The photographer's name is Ron Niebrugge. He is very skilled at his craft and although not a "climbing photographer", he managed to get some amazing shots. Ron's photography has ended up in countless catalogs, magazines, and even the cover of National Geographic Adventure. He has a blog which showcases his travels and works which can be found at Ron's Blog. He has a short bit and some photo's about our day together here. We all had a great time that afternoon. The light was fantastic and the scenery was magical. Props to Ron and his skills with a camera.

Where have we landed?

2009-11-10T14:19:00.000-08:00

If Yosemite is awesome and the Cascades are grand then Joshua Tree is fucking cool. This place exudes fun. Not only is there world class climbing that is both challenging and aesthetic, but simply scrambling around on the many piles of boulders makes one feel like a kid again. Albert Hoffman would have loved this place.

Our time here was all too brief at only week. With over 6000 climbs in the vicinity, we didn't even scratch the surface... we barely breathed on it. If Joshua Tree were a cookie, I was only able to eat a crumb. Truly a rock climbers paradise, Joshua Tree remains comfortable for climbing year round. In the cold winter months it can be chilly, but when the sun is out it is game on.

It is worth mentioning that to get here was not uneventful. I will spare the details and nuances, but a long story short, my car broke down and I needed to make an unexpected 36 hour dash trip to Seattle and back to visit my ailing grandmother. When I finally found myself settling into Joshua Tree, tired, a little stressed, and a few car repairs later, I was in need of some healing that only nature can provide. Fortunately, J-Tree is a good place for this. It is in the middle of nowhere, surrounding by a lot of nothing. But this little spot in the middle of nowhere is amazing and draws people from all around who want to experience its joys. It is the most photogenic place I have ever been and I rattled of photos left and right.

We ran into Ernest and his friend Thomas who was here to experience climbing in the western US. J-tree certainly delivers. We ended up sharing a campsite for the week. I also saw a handful of other friends that were made in Yosemite and ran into our pal Mark Allen from Washington.

A moment worth mentioning. Over the past weekend, a large family (10 or so people) occupied the campsite next door. We were sitting by the fire late in the evening with some friends, licking our wounds and trading war stories when Ernest suddenly hushed our crowd. We all look at him and he smiles, "do you hear that? Someone's getting laid!" the familiar noises traveling from the adjacent family site. We all begin to snicker when Mike's witty sense of humor kicks in and he spouts of, "yeah, vacation sex" which had us all in stitches and me crying from laughter.

We had A LOT of fun during our time here. The climbing is hard and beautiful, the people are chill, the landscape fantastic, and the weather is stellar. All in all, a perfect visit, and a place I could definitely spend more time in and plan too in the future. Everyone, no matter what your interests, should visit Joshua Tree. You will simply be amazed. Now I will let the pictures do the talking.

Onward and Southward

2009-10-28T08:23:00.000-07:00

Well, I have finally left the valley. I had not left Yosemite (except for a brief moment to grab some gas just outside the gates) for 30 days. Mike and I joined in the mass exodus of climbers leaving Camp 4 and heading for the desert. Some went to Utah, some went to Vegas, others to Joshua Tree. We are headed to J-tree, but first we have stopped in San Francisco for some supplies and good company with some friends we met in Yosemite.

The last few weeks have gone really well. As always, there are climbs that didn't get done that I would have liked to climb, but that just gives me the reason and drive to go back, hopefully next year.

Yosemite is a great place to learn new skills, refine the ones you have, and pass them on to others. The collections of climbers, ranging from new trad leader to seasoned wall veteran means there is a lot of knowledge willing to be learned and passed down. Since Yosemite is not only a free-climbing paradise, but a big-wall mecca as well, I had hoped to learn how to aid-climb a bit. Ernest, my friend from Switzerland took the time to teach me some of the basic aid climbing technique while I lead my first aid pitch.

Ernest looking on and me aid climbing

It is a good skill to know if you reach a point where the free climbing is beyond your level or not even feasible. The pitch Ernest picked for my lead was not difficult be free climbing standards (5.10b i think), but it did have some of trickiest gear placements I had ever experienced. Since one are relying 100% on their gear holding their weight, it wasn't exactly a cake walk. But all went well and we were even treated to a close-up view of a lynx as he (or she?) prowled by.

The Lynx

Ernest is a good guy. Prior to him teaching me to aid-climb we decided to climb Upper Cathedral Spire. There are two Cathedral Spires, upper and lower. Both are magnificent formations of rock that begged to be climbed. Reaching the summit is treating yourself to the experience of an island in the sky, only to be touched by birds, chipmunks, and the fellow climber. We opted for the regular route that provides consistent 5.9 climbing throughout. I took a variation on the second-pitch, thinking it was a 5.9 corner, but later learned that it was a .10c corner/roof. This introduces an interesting paradigm, at least for me, when climbing. I can climb 5.9 and 5.10c onsight in most instances. But I did approach this pitch with what Ill call a 5.9 attitude, that can be best described as knowing (or thinking) that I won't have to pull out all my tricks and strength to send the pitch. While entering the crux, it becomes apparent that this is hard 5.9 and my inner monologue is briefly says, "This is hard 5.9, but it's 5.9, you've got this" and I end up pulling through, thinking for a second that I may be on some harder variation, but at least we a re still on route. Sometimes though, when I know I am climbing at or close to my limit, I will enter the crux and my mind sputters, "This is the crux, its at your limit, fuck, shit, this is hard, pull through..." and sometimes it goes well and sometimes it doesn't. This has lead me try and understand my mental state when climbing and based on this experience, approach climbs with what I call my "5.9 attitude", which is hard to do when you know the grade at which you are climbing and it is harder, but can help one climb calmly and confidently through a crux.

The view from Upper Cathedral Spire's Summit, looking down on Lower Cathedral Spire. Can you spot the climbers on top?

Sometimes, though, especially in the valley, 5.9 can give you "full value", or in other words, focus your attention, block any fear creeping in, breathe calmly, and climb with as much precision as you can muster. We call this "spicy 5.9" and the East Buttress of El Capitan provides that experience.

While not exactly a true El-Cap route, that is to say, a route that ascend the main wall, the East Buttress is 13 pitches of fun, semi-polished, and pretty well sustained climbing. I climbed this route with Jenni, a friend from Portland who used to work at the rock gym in town and is now a wilderness ranger in Yosemite. I contacted Jenni when I got here and we agreed to do some climbing, the East Buttress was on both our tick lists. After a day of becoming a familiar team and instilling some confidence into Jenni that she in fact would do fine on the climb we sat off at 5am.

This was a fantastic venture, with quality, albeit a-typical climbing by Yosemite standards (lots of face, water polished climbing, and discontinuous cracks) and amazing exposure. I would lead all the pitches except for the three Jenni felt comfortable tackling and all-in-all we did great as a team and climbed the route in a leisurely ten hours. I think this was the longest route Jenni has done and was impressed with her constant enthusiasm throughout. We enjoyed a beautiful sunset on the descent that new title photo of this blog is representative of.

Like I said earlier, now Mike and I are in the Bay area, taking care of a few loose ends, before heading to the desert. The valley was starting to get a little cold and are going to welcome the warm days and vast landscape that the desert graciously provides.

As our compass turns towards the south west and its alien landscapes I am reminded of a man who so eloquently described such a place in books like Desert Solitaire or The Monkey Wrench Gang, the late, great, Edward Abbey.

“Strolling on, it seems to me that the strangeness and wonder of existence are emphasized here, in the desert, by the comparative sparsity of the flora and fauna: life not crowded upon life as in other places but scattered abroad in spareness and simplicity, with a generous gift of space for each herb and bush and tree, each stem of grass, so that the living organism stands out bold and brave and vivid against the lifeless sand and barren rock. The extreme clarity of the desert light is equaled by the extreme individuation of desert life-forms. Love flowers best in openness and freedom.” -Edward Abbey from Desert Solitaire

Yosemite 101

2009-10-23T16:18:00.000-07:00

This has been my first time to Yosemite. Before arriving here, I made many inquiries as to the intricacies of dirtbagging in the park. Most of the answers I received related to avoiding fines and having your car ripped apart by a bear. So far I have been able to avoid both of these pitfalls. In fact, I think Yosemite is quite accommodating for a person who wants to shack up for a month and climb.

There is a store, showers, laundry (if needed), a post office, medical clinic, climbing shop, free internet in places, an art gallery, public transit! Sure the prices for groceries are a bit inflated, but how expensive is PB & J, really? There are a few tips here and there that aren’t readily apparent, but once learned, go a long way extending your luxury, enjoyment, dollar, or all three at once while living amongst the trees and rock.

#1: Bring a tarp

Although this is California, it can still rain 5” in 24 hours and turn everything into a wet, flowing, muddy mess.

#2: King Cobra

The Yosemite Village Store definitely must shoulder the entire weight of total King Cobra sales. This 16oz Malt Liquor is the preferred beverage among camp 4 resi dents. At 75 cents a can, the goodness that is the Cobra is hard to resist.

#3 IT’S-IT

Another item that is frequently consumed. At 90 cents, this delectable treat is a good way to end a long day of climbing. Although the makers call it “an unlikely combination”, pouring chocolate over ice cream that is sandwiched between two oatmeal cookies seems more like pre-ordained union of awesomeness.

In the Valley, if you have these three things covered, then all you should have to worry about is climbing and the rangers.

Sorry for the short post, and the underlined text. Don't ask me how that got there. The Waether looks good for the duration of our stay here in Yosemite. In about a week, Mike and I will take off for Joshua Tree for Halloween. Ill will post a good summary of my time here in the valley when we leave.

Entrance Exams

2009-10-10T12:03:00.000-07:00

Editors Note: I now have my computer charger so the updates that I promised will be more frequent and regular, notwithstanding consecutive days of fantastic California weather that we have been experiencing lately. Also, FYI, any photo can be clicked to view a larger picture. Now, on to the post...

So after much preparation, anticipation, and exfoliation of unnecessary items I departed my home in Bellevue for the open road toward Yosemite, California. I opted, as I usually do, for the single push tactic, going as long as is reasonable. My goal being to arrive at the gates of Yosemite National Park in the early morning to secure a campsite. The drive was mostly uneventful, which I think is always a good think when it comes to driving. I did manage to fire off a nice photo of Mt. Shasta as I cruised by at 75mph. Outside of Sacramento I was able to get some rest thanks to Wal-marts open parking lot policy for a few hours. ( I still don't recommend shopping there though) After some early morning shenanigans due to getting off route, I arrived in Yosemite at 7am.

Rumors of sparse camping abound, I followed the provided signs to "camping registration". After waiting in line for a half hour, I was became unpleasantly aware that this camp registration site was for all the areas except the fabled Camp 4, which of course, was my intended destination. The ranger at that desk all but told me to give up hope for that day, but determined I sped on over to the proper kiosk and got in another line. It was 8:30am but somehow there was a site available which I eagerly acquired. I was lucky it seems. Everyday, beginning around 3-5am, climbers begin to lay down in front of the kiosk for a spot in line to get a coveted site. It begins to resemble a homeless shelter of sorts by the time it opens.

Moving into Camp 4, one begins to hear languages from all over the planet. This place is an international meet and greet for many an aspiring or accomplished climber. Everyone in Camp 4 is there for the sole purpose of ascending the many fantastic rock routes presented in "The Valley". As I settled into site 19, I met some of my camp mates. (each site gets filled with six people) A handful of canucks from Vancouver, BC and an Austrian women traveling with them who I would enjoy a few days of climbing with before they left back home.

After moving in Mike and I went for a good run to the base of El Capitan, one of the grandest monoliths of rock anyone could ever look upon. It is unexplainable how huge this ocean of white and golden granite is. Flawless rock. Beautiful lines. Crawling with climbers. One word: Whoa.
The picture to the left is "El-Cap" in the early morning light. "The Nose" is the prominent protrusion and longest aspect of the wall. From Base to top the captain is over 3000ft.

Finally settling in, we got to climbing the next day. I foolishly left my camera back at camp so no photos of this day. We climbed the Kor-Beck route, a classic that set the standard for the type of climbing I would expect from Yosemite. This is a fantastic 5-pitch route on Middle Cathedral Spire that runs the gamut of hand cracks, finger cracks, and even some squeeze chimneys. The chimney climbing was good practice for the next days as we headed to the "Cookie Cliff" for some cragging. We started off a wicked climb the starts with a right slanting hand crack and quickly widens into a skin eating chimney to the top. Mike led up first. I cleaned the route and anchored myself so as to get some good pictures as Matt from Bozeman, MT climbed up on lead.

FULL ON CHIMNEY ACTION!!! This shit is fucking rad!

The following day was a rain/rest day. My preferred destination for such an occasion has become the Awhanee Lodge. Serving as a hotel, it is also a heritage site and is open to all the parks visitors, even the dirtbagging climbing bums. The Awhanee is beautiful, cozy, has a huge fireplace, and free wi-fi!

The recent days have been chock full of climbing. My new friends Nick, Annielou, and Andrea went for a casual outing appropriately name "Casual Commitment" we where hoping to help out another new friend, Boaz for Germany, in his making of a video for a school project at his university. Hoping to film us heading up on a climb and then topping out, the first bit was successful but the later was crushed under the weight of a two slow moving teams ahead of us. From a mid-point bail ledge we yelled up to Boaz, a few hundred feet up, who had ran up using the Yosemite Falls Trail that we were not gonna finish in time and that we were bailing. Boaz is very German and could not understand either Nick nor my distant English. It was a this point that Andrea, who is Austrian, began yelling in German up to Boaz. This briefly caught us off guard, but hilarity ensued. Not wanting to yell in english to Boaz that the teams in front of us were "Too fucking slow so we were bailing because them!" Andrea's German provided the necessary vehicle to deliver this message so as not to offend anyone within earshot, namely the offending slow pokes.

Clockwise from bottom left: Nick the raft guide, Matt, Rob & Annielou, the canucks, and in the other photo, the ever eccentric Andrea. All have returned home except for Nick who is still roaming the valley.

The next day Mike and I had to go to plan B due to crowds and went to the base of El-Cap for some cragging. This is super fun because of the location and amazing climbing. Unfortunately our day was cut a short. After finishing a climb we noticed a YOSAR (Yosemite Search and Rescue) ranger struggling past with a litter on his back and a bag of equipment. We offered our help, realizing he was headed to the scene of an accident. A few hundred feet over a climber had taken a 20ft fall and decked. He was conscious and verbally respondent, but it was unclear whether he had injured his spine. Medics were on the scene and Mike and I lingered knowing that litter removal is an involved process. Sure enough, we were called upon to help carry the injured climber out. He was quickly helicoptered out to Modesto and is hopefully recovering well. On that note we opted back to camp. Moments like these always give you pause. Mistakes cannot be made. We know the risks. We accept it as part of the challenge.

After basically messing around on shorter climbs, Mike and I planned a longer climb to begin to step the game. We opted for the classic East Buttress of Middle Cathedral. 10-pitches of mostly 5.8-5.9 climbing with one short 5.10c section. We awoke at 5am and after the pre-climb ritual of breakfast and racking up (and for me adding superglue and tape to my "flapper" earned the day before) The climb went well, being the second party on-route and quickly passing those ahead of us, we fired of the 1100ft climb before noon. The 5.10c pitch was very awkward and hard to onsight. Neither me, nor Mike, nor the guy behind us got it clean.

Mike assessing the situation and then leading out under California skies.

Me and the Captain.

Mike and myself enjoyed the well-exposed climbing.

That is all I've got for today. These posts take longer than one might think. Rest assured I am doing well and am enjoying every second of this adventure. It is a rare chance to truly live in the moment as I am able to do here. I leave you with a quote from the man helped create Yosemite National Park.

"I know that our bodies were made to thrive only in pure air, and the scenes in which pure air is found." - John Muir

Passing of Time

2009-09-07T21:41:00.000-07:00

This past week has been rough, to say the least. One of my best friends, a guy I have known since I was six, passed away from injuries sustained in a car accident. Fortunately I have a great support group in the large group of friends I have at home in Bellevue, which has made this past week more bearable than it otherwise would be. But, it is times like these that always give you pause to think about the bigger picture. What really matters during our time here on earth? And how is it best to spend that time? My answer is a short list. Family, friends, and living life to the fullest. The last one being very subjective to each individual. For me, sometimes, family/friends and what I consider living my life to the fullest can seem to contradict each other.

I love climbing. The adventures, nature, the freedom of the hills, all fulfill what I consider to be part of living a full life, at least for me. It is this desire which is driving me to take a looong road trip though the western US, climbing along the way, photographing my progress, and simply taking the time to smell the roses along the way. In short, I have wanderlust. But this will obviously put me far away from those I love and care about the most for an extended period of time. I have been away from my closest friends and family before (college and what not) but in light of recent events, for me it begs the question, is it worth it? This past summer has seen the deaths of some high profile climbers, experts at what they do, making this reality all the more visceral. Furthering on that train of thought, if something were to happen, would those close to me (who do not climb) understand? or could I rationalize my upcoming trip, which can seem a narcissistic venture at times (hell, lets be honest, it is) when I could spend that time with those I love, who, I am reminded can be there one day and gone the next? I pose these tough questions to myself to help understand my motives and desires better.

I am going along with my plans to travel. To leave those I love behind, temporarily, to pursue my passion in life. I have to. It's what I feel in my heart. But if something were to happen could anybody who hasn't breathed the thin air of the alpine, walked a knife edge ridge, experienced hundreds of feet of open exposure below them understand why I, and my climbing peers, take such risks for something as trite as reaching the top of a route, wall, peak, what have you? No doubt it would be hard for them to rationalize my decisions. But I would say to them, no one heads into the hills to die. Everyone who does, goes into the hills to live. I would have a hard time putting the experiences, emotions, and lessons taught from the mountains into words. I think photographs can, sometimes, convey the beauty of these adventures. It is my hope too, that this blog can help translate why my desire to climb runs so deep, to help those who would question my motives understand why. Why it would seem I take meaningless risks. Why I am choosing to leave them and run off for a long periods, into areas where staying in contact even, will be difficult. To leave the perfectly good and happy times we share for the exclusive enjoyment of long brutal days, cold weather, bloody fingers, mental exhaustion, and at times teetering on the edge of enjoyment and fear. It is definitely not always a struggle, but being honest about my passion to others is the only way to do it justice. The truth is that the rewards are that good. The hard work and application of skills when climbing can often pay off with a greater sense of oneself and the world at large in such a way that I have not found any other way attaining. Climbing is truly a spectacular experience.

I had the immense pleasure of introducing my friend who recently passed away to rock climbing over the past year. He was a natural athlete and took to it quickly, leading a short 5.9 his first time on rock!. "That looks fun! I want to try that." he said after watching me set up a top-rope, always willing to excel. He soon bought some shoes and a chalk bag and let me drag him out on a few early mornings to go on an adventure. He was beginning to improve quickly and began to experience those moments that make all climbers come back for more. It saddens me deeply that I will no longer be able to tie-in with him again, but I do share something special from our vertical experiences. Those climbs that we were able to do together will be there for a long time to come and I will be able to go back to them some day. I intend to. To leave the ground behind and move for move relive those adventures that we had together as a way to get as close as I possible can to my lost friend. I hope to bring some of our mutual friends along too, so they can hopefully understand this unique experience. This is just one of the many unique moments that climbing can provide that will leave an imprint that lasts a life time.

I leave you with a photograph, that hopefully displays a sliver of the beauty to be found in the mountains. RIP KENNY

Mt. Desire-East Ridge

2009-08-19T21:52:00.000-07:00

On July 17th, with the support of the American Alpine Club and a McNiell-Knott grant, Brianna Hartzell, Eric Dalzell, Mike Pond, and Myself (Matt Van Biene) began our journey north to the Bella Coola Valley in British Columbia. After 17 hours of scenic driving we finally descended into the valley. Craning our necks up and out the windows, we were immediately awe struck at the beauty and potential that lay relatively hidden in the valley. Towering alpine peaks rise directly from the valley floor to the south with granite slabs and walls smearing the remaining valley. But this was not why we were here. The alpine playground of the BC Coast Mountains surrounds Bella Coola and dwarfs the potential in the valley. Our objective: the unclimbed East Ridge of Mt. Desire.

The funds awarded from the grant allowed us to hire a flight from West Coast Helicopters to drop us off and pick us up. With weight not really a concern we opted to basecamp on the glacier below Desire with an exorbitant amount of food, supplies, and gear. We were ready to hunker down and wait for good weather if need be. But, when we departed in the chopper, the sky was blue, the sun was shining, and it was 80’ F in the valley. The helicopter turned what would otherwise be days of bushwhacking up and down valleys into a 6 minute pleasure cruise.
Thank you
AAC!
Brianna, Myself, Mike and Eric

The information we held for the area was slim. The physical data consisted of a few John Scurlock photos during the winter and a 1:250,000 topo map from 1978. We also knew desire had been climbed before, by its mellow west side, a walk up. Thats it. It was not hard to spot the distinctive east ridge from afar. The line started high above the valley floor rising in three distinct steps. The relief looked tremendous. As we honed in closer we got one good look at the line before finding an LZ. That one look from the air was crucial in determining whether we would encounter much snow on route or not. The climb looked to be mostly rock, its quality to be determined.

The helicopter peeled away behind a ridge, leaving us among the remote landscape. It took no time really establishing our cadillac style basecamp. With the forecast looking stellar we agreed to climb the next day.

With half a day to kill and anxious to explore we opted to scope out the way to gain the ridge from the glacier. We descended to the beginning of our climb (somewhat of an oddity), down the glacier , navigating crevasses for about 20 minutes. The crevasses dictated our direction onto a 50 degree snow slope that conveniently appeared to lead to a small band of rock and then a ledge system. We climbed this ramp to confirm our hunch and returned to camp ready for the day ahead.

While walking back to camp we realized one thing immediately. As is usually the case, scale is often hard to grasp with mountains. The Scurlock photos made the route look larger than life, maybe due to the wintery touch. We had been planning on bivying up until now. Seeing the route first hand made us feel confident about the rock and our ability to simul-climb good chunks of the terrain.

Eric and I simul-climbing at the start of the ridge

With the long days, the sun was up and beaming when we left camp in the morning. Quickly dispatching the glacier and ramp we found ourselves on the ridge proper. From here we roped up into two teams. Eric and I would lead the way while Mike and Brianna followed. We began simul-climbing up 4th class terrain with short steps of low-mid fifth class. The exposure grew, looming on either side. Moving at a steady pace, I felt confidant on the rock, reminding me of my native cascades.

Eric lead the way until we came to a 100ft section that we decided to pitch out. Being deliberate about each spot I touched, I gingerly lead the 5.7 pitch to a nice belay. Enjoying the good rock and avoiding the bad should keep us on the right path I thought to myself. From the belay we simul-climbed further to the first of a series of platforms along the ridge that seperated the steeper sections. To regain the ridge proper, we skirted an imposing gendarme to climb its north side via 5.7 moves. From here skirted an imposing gendarme to climb up its north side via 5.7 moves to again reach the ridge proper. This inserted us into a shallow moat between a cliff on one side and a very steep and exposed snowfield on the other. With Mike and Brianna right behind us, Eric lead up a beautiful knife edge snow arete with amazing exposure as I belayed form the moat. This was not technical, but the snow was unconsolidated and demanded focus. focused your attention.
Eric climbing the knife edge snow arete

Another few hundred feet of simul-climbing brought us to another plateau, presenting a view of the final headwall. The terrain covered until now had been fun, enjoyable and moderate. At first glance, this looked like 5 or 6 pitches of solid climbing on not so solid rock. Getting to the base of the headwall required rappelling into a deep notch with loose rocks abound.

As Brianna and Mike reached Eric and I, there was a collective sense of “Holy Shit!” As Mike and I looked at the rock we began to see weaknesses and became enthusiastic. Brianna and Eric, on the other hand, were less optimistic of the quality of rock and whether it would go. Brianna and Eric did not feel good about it and decided to bail back down the ridge. It’s vital that there is open and honest communication among a team when in the mountains so that everyone knows each others attitude towards a situation. With little else to say Mike and I roped up to continue while Eric and Brianna descended. We bade a temporary farewell and wished each other luck.

Plateau view of the headwall Mike Rappelling into the notch

Mike and I slung the best block we could find and for our descent into the notch. Three rappels brought us to an amazing rock bridge (picture a conglomeration of boulders forming a chockstone) and the base of the headwall. Mike took the lead from here on a rope-stretcher pitch to a nice belay. The first 30 feet was quality blocky granite with a few tiny placements for pro After this section the rock began to deteriorate a little and Mike pounded in a LA piton for some protection. It was not too difficult to remain on mostly decent rock as we ascended higher. This first pitch gave us some 5.8 climbing, a trend that continued above. After Mike’s lead, I headed up and climber’s right, traversing along steps and rock bands. We found our rhythm quickly and again, began to simul-climb. The climbing stayed engaging, the rock quality increased, and position kept getting better. Reaching the top of a small false summit the final few hundred feet lay ahead. Mike following up the headwall

We pushed on in the same formation, moving fast and making great time. Traversing right on tricky terrain brought us onto a rib that lead to the summit. This final section felt spectacular as it gradually steepened to just shy of vertical right below the summit. The final section was a 30 foot chimney feature with nice stemming and protruding blocks. Cresting this brought us to just below the summit, with a final snow mushroom mantle about chest high to finish. For both Mike and Myself, this was our introduction to first ascents which made it a special moment. The feeling on top was a little bittersweet, with hindsight knowledge that Eric and Brianna would have enjoyed the rest of the climb as we had. We found a cairn on top we presumed was from the previous ascensionist who climbed the west side, which would be our descent route.
On the summit, yay!

Scrambling down to a small col and rappelling a steep snowfield and bergschrund deposited us with a hundred yards from our well placed camp. The descent took about an hour and a half. It would be another 5 hours until Bri and Eric would return to camp after attempting to bail off the side, but being forced to descend the entire ridge back to the access ramp! We welcomed them back as the Aurora Borealis danced through the midnight sky illuminating the end to a fantastic day. (sorry, no photos of the aurora)

A thousand more thank you's are owed to the American Alpine Club for making this trip even possible. It was truly an amazing experience.

After this we still had a week of good weather forecast. Mike and I proceeded to climb another two new routes, both on unnamed peaks* close by. Menergy Ridge on the Gail Needle (III 5.8 w/ optional 5.9+ variation on the summit block) and Wanderlust Traverse bagging Wanderlust Peak via a 3 pitch rock and snow climb (5.10) to gain the north ridge and continuing the ridge east over two more smaller peaks.

P.S. Sorry the format with the pictures is bad. I am still getting used to this program.

First times a charm

2009-08-17T19:36:00.000-07:00

So this is my first addition into what will become my public journal and workspace. There not much too say except that if I have any vision for this outlet, it is simply to become a place where my friends and family can follow along with me on this journey we call life. Hence the title of this blog. There a few individuals out there who are especially keen on keeping track of me and staying up to date on what is going in my life. This blog is for them, as I am terribly bad at staying in touch with people, and can serve as a digital postcard.

For anyone else that wanders into this corner of the internet, welcome to a modest representation of my life. In particular, my adventures in the outdoors. What you will find here will be tales, photos, and musings form my experiences while climbing and on the road. If this becomes much more than that, then I am probably spending too much time on the internet.

Cheers