Cement Shoes

The crux steep corner pitch of Cement Shoes

             

              Climbing hard.  If you are anything like me, this is one of the main reasons for climbing.  Giving it everything and pushing beyond what I believed possible brings me some serious fulfillment.  I have worked hard to strengthen my willpower and determination and I hold my ‘try-hard’ as my most valuable climbing assets.  I may be mistaken, but my reading on the subject and personal experience has led me to believe that the try-hard muscle is like any other muscle; when you stress the tissue, it responds by growing stronger.  Like other muscles, repeated stress without enough rest can lead not to strengthening, but overtraining and a halt in progress. 

                I’m happy when I am able to give it my all, day after day, and this effort usually results in sending my projects.  This certainly feels great and brings fulfillment to climbing, but depending only on my own success for climbing fulfillment is relying on a shallow resource and leads to missing out on sharing in the joys and successes of others.  At times in my climbing, I have had trouble truly sharing the joy of a partner’s success when I am failing.  I am not proud of those times, but I think that feeling is well known to many climbers who push themselves.  Over the past few years I have been able, most of the time, to enjoy the success of others just as much as I find joy in my own achievements.  To me, this is not only an essential piece of rock climbing, but also in every aspect of life. 

                Had enough of reflection and reading generalities?  Yeah, so this reflection stems from my past weekend, which was one of the best climbing weekends I have ever had.  If it isn’t obvious from my first three paragraphs, I didn’t climb as I hoped to, and I didn’t send (anything).  Despite this, I was able to participate in a process which far overshadowed any personal disappointment in my performance. 

Greco relaxing in beautiful May Utah weather

A few posts ago I mentioned working on a new route with Dave Bloom at Indian Creek.  Dave had spotted the line years ago, a sweeping, brutally overhung corner, painted by the elements in the beautiful shades of the desert on a clean Wingate canvas.  This feature had loomed above the right side of Scarface for millennia and had been passed over by climbers for decades.  Six years ago, Dave and Mat Greco put up the first pitch, 100 feet of exciting and varied 5.11+, to reach the striking corner hanging above.  They climbed the steep corner and placed the anchors, but were unable to free the pitch.  Fast-forward six years, time flies, and Dave and Mat haven’t been back to the climb since that first foray.      

Fall 2012, Dave’s efforts to make it back to the climb are thwarted by a practice helicopter rescue at the base of the climb. 

April 2013, the long awaited return to free the route.  I led the first pitch and reached the too-perfect party ledge between the pitches with a gritty smile on my face.  The dirt and sand which filled the first pitch were even worse on the hanging corner above.  Dave gave valiant effort, but the pounds of dirt filling the crack made a free ascent nearly impossible.        

May 2013, we returned armed with brushes, extra shirts, and more time.  The plan unfolded over the few days we had to finish the line; Day one, climb at another crag, warm up, get some climbing in before the efforts began on the project.  Day two, we would aid the corner and give it a thorough cleaning.  The first hiccup in the plan arose in the second phase of the mission:  I forgot the brushes.   Solution; long-sleeve polypro cleaning equipment.  I aided the corner and cleaned the crack and the walls as well as I could we set up for Dave’s attempt. 

Hiking in as the clouds begin to build

As he racked up and began to calm internal conditions for the send, a meteorological tempest began building.  The day had begun with beautiful intermittent cloud cover, and as I led the first pitch and cleaned the second pitch rain and swirling winds began and the clouds grew darker.  Thunder rumbled and the skies grew even darker as we huddled in the sheltered belay, preparing for the ascent.  The ominous thunder and wind reached a crescendo as Dave unclipped from the anchor and cast off towards stormy skies.  Bolts of lightning flashed across the sky, playing a multisensory duet with his precise foot cams, strenuous body stemming, and ruthless thin hand jams.  Rain fell from charcoal clouds, soaking the surrounding buttresses, but the severe angle of the corner kept Dave and the climb dry.  Thunderclaps ripped the sky and broke the spell as Dave’s hand shot from a silt-coated jam and his body fell, swinging free on the rope beneath his gear.  Dave gave an impressive effort in awe-inspiring conditions, but the thin layer of silt coating the crack made the incredibly insecure jams even more slippery.  As the squall passed, Mike Broad and I both top-roped the crack, cleaning with our bodies and hands as we went, and Dave decided to rest up and conserve his strength for one final shot on our last day. 

That night, Dave, Mat, and I fueled up with a power trio of meats, hot dog appetizers followed by green chile bacon cheeseburgers.  As dark clouds marched overhead and raindrops pelted our camp, we each slipped into our own pleasant protein-induced coma and dreamed of the next day’s mission.  Cold cloudless skies and the unobstructed rays of the sun woke us the next morning and we began the multi-step voyage back to the crag.  Coffee gave way to breakfast; our camp was broken down and folded into the van.  After a not-so-brief stop for a deposit at the Beef Basin Bank of America, we were on our way, hiking up with our goal in sight, high above the trail. 

The right side of Scarface, Cement Shoes
 is visible in the center of the photo

We began with some warm-up pitches, and watched the sparse clouds race across the sky.  The sun beat down on the sandstone walls as we climbed the first pitch of the project.  The temperature-induced friction loss weighed on my mind as Dave followed the pitch.  While the rest of the wall baked in the sun, the crux corner above was protected by its radically steep angle.   Racking and rituals of preparation were repeated and I gave what affirmations I had to offer.

“ The rock is cleaner, the temps are great, and you know what to do!”

Dave recited his key beta aloud.

“You just can’t stop, it’s all about keeping moving, remind me to breathe slow”

He left the belay with confidence, the clear skies in stark contrast with the tumultuous conditions of the previous day’s efforts.  As he moved into the crux section, the corner steepened and tightened, pushing his body out.  Fluidity and efficiency were embodied as he placed each piece of gear quickly, fought the pull of gravity, and powered through the crux, reaching the anchors and closing the final chapter of a story six or more years in the making. 

Cement Shoes (2 pitches, 5.12+) was established by Dave Bloom and Mat Greco and freed by Dave in May 2013 while Mat shot photos from above.  The climb is located on the right side of Scarface, near Twitch and The Cleaner.  The crux second pitch corner is likely the steepest pitch at Indian Creek and is truly a proud first ascent for an influential figure of Indian Creek, the Doctor Dave Bloom.  I was happy to help support Dave and Mat and I found true joy in the success of my friends.

The FA team of Cement Shoes after the FFA, Mat Greco and Dave Bloom

Sweet Dreaming at the Waterfall

Pausing before launching into the upper headwall of There Will Be Blood
photo Blake McCord

Our individual development and progression as climbers is shaped by a number of experiences; road trips to new areas, influential partners, and challenging and memorable routes.  Perhaps more important than any milestone route or long-anticipated climbing trip to the development of a climber is the area in which the climber learns, the home crag. 

My home crag is not where I learned to climb or the most convenient or popular local hangout or after-work outdoor gym.  Rather it is the area that formed me as the climber, where I developed and tested my sense of ethics, cultured my climbing style, and built my confidence.  This crag is home to snakes, hornets, and poison ivy.  It may hold the title as the rockfall capitol of Arizona.  My home crag is the Oak Creek Waterfall.          

Matt Swartz considering his options on Walking Far From Home
photo Joel Unema

The volume of wild and life-directing experiences I personally have had at the Waterfall is more than enough for several blog posts, and more accounts of what I have learned from this beautiful place are in the works.  At the moment, I am reflecting on the beauty and depth of that place after achieving one of my major climbing goals in Flagstaff.  Last week Friday I made one more hike up to the Waterfall and repeated two routes, the last two on the long list of established routes at the Waterfall.  After three seasons climbing at the Waterfall, I had climbed every established route, somewhere around 100 total including around 40 5.11’s, 30 5.12’s, and two 5.13’s.  In the last year I had the privilege of adding a few of my own routes to the area, although my first foray into new routes may have been an Accident. 

Carrie, somehow putting up with my poor choices in f

Darren took the 2:30am shift on my birthday challenge in 2012.
 A truly special morning with a great friend.

Ever since I really sunk my teeth into the meat of the climbing at the Waterfall, the back of my mind was occupied by the thought that maybe I could climb everything there!  The last major hurdle in my path to finishing each climb was the unrepeated and much-discussed Sweet Dreams.  Established by Dan Foster and attempted by a few very gifted and bold climbers, this 115 foot overhung stemming problem had somehow eluded its suitors.  Rumors circulated about the tiny gear, the insecure climbing, and the difficulty of the moves, especially for tall climbers.  Earlier this spring Dave Bloom and I decided to see what all the talk was about.  We managed to traverse in and hang a rope over the climb.  While I had stuck with a ground-up ethic in repeating all other routes here, the lack of traffic and quality of the gear led us to inspect the climb from the top.  It was plenty dirty, and the gear was thin, but the climbing was exceptional and the tiny gear better than advertised.  After working out the moves, digging dirt out of lowe-ball placements, and dialing in the rack, I managed to wiggle in the 00’s, sliders, and 000’s that protected the entire 40’ crux section and send on my first lead attempt.  Sweet Dreams posed a unique challenge among the climbs I had repeated, a mental challenge, and it was a beautiful climb to mark the consummation of my relationship with the Waterfall.

Alex K on the FA of Walking Far From Home
photo Joel Unema

There are many people to thank for making the Waterfall the world-class crag that it is today.  Tim Toula, John Gault, Darren Singer, Daniel Miller, Jason Keith, Dan Foster, and Eric Meundt all played a part in the early phases of development, before I ever climbed at the Waterfall.   JJ Schlick, Wade Forrest, James Q Martin, David Bloom, Matt Swartz, and John Crawley picked up the baton and made it into the exceptional crag it is today.

The Waterfall has been central to my climbing development, and has been the source of intimidation and fear, the place of birth and growth of relationships, and the site of some of my most cherished accomplishments.  Stay tuned for more stories (and perhaps a few new routes) from my home crag, The Waterfall.  

Joel Unema stemming the low crux on the FFA of Walking Far From Home
photo Alex Kirkpatrick

Isolation Canyon

Pine, Arizona has never been more to me than a bathroom stop or a checkpoint on the way to other destinations (like the Homestead!), until last weekend.  This quiet town is the gateway to a gem of Northern Arizona climbing, Isolation Canyon.  I had been hearing about Isolation Canyon for years, and it is certainly not a secret after Manny Rangel published his guidebook, but I had not yet experienced it for myself!

This serene canyon tucked behind Pine, AZ has been incised into beautiful quartzite by Pine Creek.  The canyon walls offer routes from 1 to 4 pitches and the rock is bullet-hard and coated with lichen in a variety of striking colors.  The rock is near-vertical and is incredibly featured, producing hundreds of moderate routes.  The perfect edges and surprising friction of the rock that makes it so fun to climb also limits the difficulty of the climbing.  I didn’t explore that much of the area and stayed mostly on the main wall, but I did not see great potential for routes much harder than those currently established, which top out at 11+/12-

The moderate and excellent climbing was just what I needed the day I was there.  Eric, Carrie, Patty, Scott, Chrissy and I cruised down there together in my new van and it was great to relax and climb with good friends.  Eric and I sampled a number of lines including the classic bolted climbs No White Flag, Peacenik, and Submission.  We also placed some gear on excellent mixed routes including Transmission and The Proposal!  The rock here lends itself well to linking pitches with long runners and we linked the three pitches of Peacenik for a pretty incredible 200’ bolted pitch!  My new Bluewater Lightning 9.7 70m rope was perfect for linking pitches.   I was pretty impressed by the slick finish on the rope, which kept drag to a minimum while also facilitating really nice handling for the belay.  It was refreshing to get out and just climb all day without going into project or try-hard mode.  While trying my hardest is really what satisfies me in climbing, it is nice to have a more mellow day once in a while and just enjoy movement over beautiful rock. 

It is really interesting to see the way certain rock types lend themselves to moderate or difficult climbing.  I expected there to be untouched faces that would go in the 5.12+ or 5.13 range, and perhaps there are, but they were not apparent.  The climbing that was there was excellent and the rock near-perfect.  Thanks to Manny and the other developers for all of their hard work to open up such a beautiful canyon to climbing!

Carrie got some great photos of me on The Proposal (Thanks!) climbing in the Mad Rock Concept 2.0, which are my new favorite shoe for pretty much everything.  All photos credit Carrie Albrecht.

SushiFest Indian Creek 2013

A few of the Arizona crew at Sushifest 2013

The endurance of a climbing area is tested by the rapid turnover of climbing generations.  Some areas that have formed the deep roots of our sport are forgotten as number grades pass them by and the attention of the young and strong turns to crags with thinner cracks, smaller crimps, and steeper walls.  Other areas transform and evolve over decades as the eyes of ascentionists are opened, technology improves, or ethics change.  Small cams allow protection of thinner and shallower cracks, unprotectable faces are bolted, and a generation of plastic-hardened gym rats sees holds where none were seen before.  Harder routes continue to go up at some of these crags right next to climbs established decades before. 

            Indian Creek continues to stand the test of time, and I experienced one brief moment in the ongoing story at Sushifest 2013, which brought together climbers from almost every generation in the geneology of Indian Creek.  Food, drink, laughter and stories were shared between aging alpinists and first ascentionists from the 70’s, original offwidth masters, historians and guidebook authors, and climbers in their first season at the creek.   

The Doctor, Dave Bloom, in his office

            My connection to the Sushifest was through David Bloom, known in part for his Indian Creek guidebook.  We have become climbing partners and good friends in the past few months and when he encouraged me to join in the Sushifest, I couldn’t say no.  History was thick in the air around the campfire and at the crag.  Jim Donini recounted surviving on rations of monkey in Venezuala, David and I repeated routes he established with Micah Dash, and others told stories of pre-cam first ascents at Indian Creek and around the country.

            After the healthy doses of story telling and swordfish sashimi, I had a chance to sample some classic climbs established by Steve Hong, Steve Petro, Eric Decaria, and recent additions from Pat Kingsbury.  Perhaps the highlight of the trip for me came as I was belaying, not climbing.  I had the chance to belay Dave Bloom on a new project, a climb so steep and beautiful it will certainly rank among the classic hard lines.  Despite his impressive efforts, the climb awaits his ascent and stands as a symbol of the vast potential remaining at Indian Creek despite the extensive development.  New gear, stronger climbers, and fresh vision have made possible new and incredible cracks at this enduring area.

Joel Unema on the finger crack of Pat’s Blue Ribbon

            The diversity of climbers from so many generations assembled that weekend made me feel that now is a Golden Age for Indian Creek.  Perhaps most of the plums have been picked, the desert is feeling the effects of the crack-hungry masses, and some of the air of adventure has left the place.  However, it is a narrow window in which a young creek climber can both share a beer or a rope with some of the original pioneers, repeat classics established over decades, and establish new climbs of exceptional quality.  The original Golden Age perhaps has past, but I am glad for the place in time I find myself in the sandstone halls of Indian Creek. 

Thanks to Dave, Nature, John, Mike, Roy, Carrie, and everyone else for making this few days at the creek so fun!  Photo credit Carrie Albrecht and Roy McClenahan

           

Joel Unema entering the headwall on the onsight of Family Home Night

Desert Dogs: Bosco and Ruffus

John Crawley following the beautiful and unique The Cleaner at Scarface

Mike Broad on his first wide encounter with Big Guy, Scarface

Earning The Shirt

 At its best, climbing is a framework for us to challenge the strength of our bodies, the creativity of our minds, and the tenacity of our spirits.  At its worst, it can lead to arguments and fights over ownership of routes, climbers chasing numbers with little regard for beauty, and condescension towards those new to the sport.  Gnarbarian climbing began in 2012 as a way for climbers across Northern Arizona (and beyond!) to get to know each other and encourage one another, regardless of discipline.  Some climbers find satisfaction on a quiet afternoon beneath the pines with just a bouldering pad.  Others seek the fulfillment of perfecting a long sequence of difficult moves on a sport-climbing project.  A few crave that knot in their stomach when looking 15 feet down at a lonely brass nut or microcam.  Many feel freedom when spending all day in the vertical world on a sandstone tower or granite face.  And some of us are just here for the pizza and beer.

                However, nearly all of us seek to push ourselves in the vertical realm and grow as a result of our climbing experiences.  On a trip to Yosemite this past summer, my partner Eric and I came up with the concept of “Earning your Shirt”.  At this point, only a few GNAR shirts were gracing the backs of climbers in Flagstaff, but now you can see the unmistakable bright blue and orange at crags and canyons all over the southwest.  The process of Earning your Shirt is not a prerequisite to obtaining a shirt and is not intended to be an exclusive rite or hazing ritual.  It was envisioned as a personal process of growth and challenge highlighted by a specific breakthrough event.  Not clear yet?  Let me give you an example.

                August 2012, hot off  the my best season of sport climbing and gear climbing yet, Eric Deschamps and I find ourselves in Yosemite Valley, for me the first time.  We met up with Darren and Angela Mabe for a week of exploring the granite cracks and faces so iconic and historic in our sport.  The first objective for Eric and I was the Northwest Face of Half Dome, a plan he envisioned and I eagerly ascribed to.  The route promised to be challenging logistically and technically for me, as I had little experience with wall climbing.  Climbing hard sport routes and single pitch gear routes had built great strength and technique in me, and the free climbing planned on the route was much easier than what I had been doing all summer.  But as we stood beneath the face, the numbers attached to all the climbs I had sent didn’t sum up to any measure of confidence to meet the variety of challenges that lay above. 

                The climb began smoothly and we moved at a comfortable but consistent pace, the systems planned out by Eric providing a framework for constant progress.  For the first many pitches my mind reeled uneasily and I was intimidated by the many pitches above.  As we inched closer to the top, my confidence grew and I began to climb freely and enjoy each pitch.  Early in the afternoon, I finished leading the last of the Zig-Zag crack pitches, fixed the rope, and looked across the Thank God Ledge. 

                The confidence forged on the pitches below built to a crescendo as I considered my options for traversing the ledge.  My thoughts moved quickly and I hastily cobbled together a plan.

“I hear this is supposed to be hard to walk” 

“Honnold did this whole thing ropeless, of course I can walk it with a rope…. It’s only 5.7”

“It would be rad if I could walk it without placing any gear”

“Walking it on rope-solo should be fine”

I took the first few steps across the ledge.

“This is too easy”

Simultaneously the wall above the ledge began to steepen and the footledge shrink.

“Ok, I can see how this requires some balance”

My steps turn in to a shuffle, my chest to the wall and my backpack and heels hanging high above the first 20 pitches of the route.

“Maybe I should put a piece in for Eric”

“Maybe that piece is really for me!”

I shuffled back right, reached down and stuffed a good cam in the crack between the footledge and the wall.  I payed out armload after armload of slack through the Gri-Gri until the loop looked equal to the distance remaining across the ledge, which didn’t look so easy any more.

“The worst that can happen is a little pendulum here…. I’m going for it”

I repeated the shuffle-steps back to the left and pressed on as the steps became smaller and more desperate.  My hands frantically alternated between a futile search of the wall above for any feature and windmilling involuntarily to provide some sort of balance.

“just a few more steps”

I had made several moves that I had no hope of reversing, placing gear was impossible, and I was fully committed to the traverse.  My steps became more like stabbing hops as I desperately fought to maintain balance and continue progress.  Controlled movement was no longer possible.

The point of no return became also the point of no progression; I could no longer lift either foot.  That lonely cam placed 30 feet behind laughed at me as I stood, unable to move any of my limbs. 

“If I could just find even the smallest hold, a potato-chip-sized flake would do, I could make another step”

My hand found exactly that, a tiny flake of potato-chip thickness, and just as greasy as its namesake.  I gingerly moved first my left foot, then my right and prepared for another shuffle, allowed by this miraculous thin-cut fried gift of a hold. 

“SNAP”

The breaking of the chip-flake was as quiet as the crunching of a single Lay’s, but felt as devastating as the instantaneous smashing of entire stack of Pringles.

Both arms reeled in a rhythmic flapping as my conscious mind attempted to maintain balance and my subconscious prepared for flight. 

Somehow, against the laws of physics and in spite of my preparations for flight, my feet remained on the ledge.  The potato chip had given me just enough to make it past the most difficult section.  Trembling, I finished the shuffle to a secure stance at the end of the traverse.

At that moment, Eric reached the belay at the beginning of the ledge and asked how I was doing.  I lifted up my fleece to expose the blaze orange and blue beneath. 

“I just earned my shirt!  I walked the ledge!”

I was happy just to be alive.  That was a breakthrough moment for me in which I found the soul of why I climb.  Climbing presents challenges in many different ways, and that walking traverse had been a challenge for me in the moment and symbolically.

The idea of Earning the Shirt was born that day.   The process can be different for everyone.  Mine was unexpected but certain once it had occurred.  For others it may be a project climb to break through a mental barrier, a link up that pushes endurance to a new level, or a moment of decision on a committing climb leading to success, or a glorious whipper. 

Whatever form it comes in, Earning your Shirt is about challenging yourself and overcoming on a personal level.  What is monumental for some may be mundane for others, but that fact is fundamental to the soul of climbing.   Self-challenge and improvement, not competition and comparison, is what Gnarbarian Climbing is about. 

Maybe you have already had an experience in which you “Earned your Shirt” and maybe this idea can inspire you to challenge yourself on a new level.  Either way, share your story!  Post up your story on the GNAR page and add some psyche to an already super-psyched community.

-Joel Unema

on the ledge, after Earning the Shirt