l'escalade

It began as most mornings would at home. Waking up to a water-powered alarm clock...no, really. We needed an alarm clock, so we bought one. Is one that runs on water that weird?

Dragging ourselves out of bed was harder than usual this morning. Perhaps it's the dearth of rest we've gotten on this trip, traversing La Ville de Lumières. I should have been more excited to visit the mystical boulders of Fontainebleau. For those of you who do not climb, a quick lesson. One, bouldering is climbing boulders without a rope to get on the top of them. There are often many ways to get to the top, some more difficult than others. Yes, it is quite a workout, and no, I do not wear gloves. Two, Font is revered as the largest and most developed climbing area in the world. People have been climbing on these sandstone boulders since the late 19th century.

Flashback to last night. Much to our chagrin, we discovered that the Chateau of Fontainebleau is closed on Tuesdays. Yes, folks, it is Tuesday. Visiting the chateau was supposed to be the counterbalance to the climbing and the alternative to Versailles. Why we never noticed that essential bit of knowledge before 23:00, I'll never know. After much discussion, we decided to go for it anyway. The gardens were open, and the transportation was little more than a train...then a bus...then a bike rental...and some unmarked forest trails on rickety mountain bikes.

No, this isn't turning into a Deliverance story. We saw no albino children and heard no banjo music. The trip there was expedited by our trusty two-wheeled steeds. The walks from the train station to town to the forest alone would have been close to 50 minutes one way. With the bus and bikes, it only took us twenty.

[Disclaimer, because of aforementioned poorly marked forest roads and limited directions from the Bleausards I contacted online prior to our excursion, the discovery of said boulders took closer to an hour. The weather was nice, and the sky only threatened to rain.]



While I explored a very small area of a vast bouldering playground, my better half dug deeper into The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo and occasionally snapped my picture. The weather turned out glorious in the woods, and despite our utter lack of French language expertise, we were able to purchase sandwiches at the boulangerie in town, rent bikes, and find our way back to our apartment in the Latin Quartier.

Rest now for the weary. I soaked in some climbing history, climbed on some sloping sandstone, and had a marvelous day in the woods with my wife. I believe I owe her a ballet show or a back rub. I'm sure I'll wind up doing both in the very near future. If I wind up in France again in coming years, I will be sure to arrange a meeting with a Bleausard guide so the journey there is a little bit easier.

climbing obsession

Used to be that climbing was the sole focus in my life. I'd spend at least three hours climbing at the gym 3-4 nights a week. Besides heading to the bar for a show, it was really my only social outlet in Gainesville.

Times have changed. A few more things have entered my social life. I'm engaged. I have friends outside of the climbing gym. The climbing gym, at least initially, didn't seem to take as many outdoor trips, despite the paradox of being closer to good stone. I threw myself headlong into photography yet again and have discovered I quite enjoy it since it meshes well with other interests. I took up snowboarding. Weather around here in the wintertime is too wet to have good climbing days. On the dry ones, it's rarely above freezing, which kills those days too. Summertime is manky and damp; holds are slippery and feet don't stick. Fall is perpetually hectic and even weekend trips are hard to come by. We'll see how this spring turns out, but it's looking like my best climbing is going to be at beloved Horse Pens 40 for spring break. It was going to be Bishop out in California, but the logistics just didn't work out. Road trip insteaad! I can live with that.

Thus begins the training regimens of years past. When I'd try in vain to break above the prior plateau so I could finally send my project. I'm top roping more lately, and trying to build bouldering endurance for our week-long trek to Steele. On the hit list this trip: Mortal Combat, Hammerhead, Earth Wind and Fire, The Beach, Millipede, Genesis, Chrisifix, and Getcha Some. Three have fought me tooth and nail, three I've never battled, and Genesis is just awesome.

Any tips to help me break out of my training slump?

how's this go again?

I seem to have forgotten to post here lately. I'd make some lame blogger excuse, "I'm too busy," but that's a lie. Direct your attention more to the photographic outlet of my creativity. This writing thing just ain't doing it for me anymore.

I guess I'll still occasionally post here, but it won't be as timely, and it'll sure be less rant-like. To tide you over, check out some climbing action from last weekend. We had a good day, ate some Mexican food, and showed Bella how to be a crag dog.



When I got home, I went on a three mile run. She's been training hard, and I finally got the all clear to start running again. The Run for World Peace 5K is next weekend. I'll keep you posted.

humpty dumpty needed a belayer, that's all

west virginia bouldering

Here are two clips of our climbing adventures in West Virginia last week. I thought long and hard about what music to accompany said climbs. Thoughts?

the new ticks

Returned from the woods on Thursday night. Five days of climbing, three crags, bouldering, sport climbing, deep water soloing, two showers. I'll make the stories short. There's too many to share.

Candler and I stayed at Rocky Top Retreat, better known as Roger's. If you go to the New, it's the community place to go. Six bucks a night. Plenty of characters call it home for a weekend, a week, or months on end. It's where we got the local beta on what to climb, for the New River Gorge is a dizzying array of climbs. The sheer volume alone makes the New the biggest crag I've ever been to. Kind of hard to narrow it down. We hit three separate parts on three consecutive days.

Day one, Kaymoor and rain in the morning. Searching for dry routes was the order of the day. 823 steps down the wrong way, we found our way to Rico Suave. Route one was called Totally Tammy (5.10a). Sketchy slab lead, but overall, not a bad climb. Made easier by our height, for sure. Route two was Rico Suave Arete (also 5.10a). Super fun lead, great movement. Left me feeling confident for more sends later in the week. After our misdirection, we were pretty much spent after those two climbs. Too bad. Back to Roger's. We got directions to Hawk's Nest for some bouldering in the afternoon.

Day two, Endless Wall. Six miles of cliff line and routes. Down the Honeymooner's Ladders, we tracked down Diamond Point and another slab lead to warm up. Glass Onion went at 5.10b, not as hairy as Tammy, but still a hairy clip or two. Hunting for straight up face climbing, we found Strike a Scowl (5.10b). Best exposure of the week, nearly a 360 degree view from the top. Too hot to hang up there and enjoy it though. Feeling confident, we hopped on Homer Erectus (5.11b) and were promptly beat down between the 3rd & 4th bolts. Demoralized and thirsty, we called it an early day yet again.

Day three, Bubba City with some of the other Roger's campers. Beer Wall is apparently overrun during the weekends, but we found an empty wall with our crew. Feeling pumped on my warmup Gilded Otter (5.7), I wasn't confident for the 100 point day we shot for. St. Pauli Girl (5.10c) tested my endurance. I made it up, but not without a few takes. No redpoint, but I got to the top. Stella put us on her project called Cirrhosis of the Leader, a two bolt 5.12a. All the business was at the bottom, basically a V5 into an easy slab. After a few goes, Candler sent first. Hans put it down next. Beta sponging from Stella, I used an awesome undercling to fight through the crux and finally sent. Near Beer (5.6) and Cerveza Verde (5.8) rounded out my euphoric day.

Pies and Pints all you can eat was on the menu for the celebratory evening. A lucky 13 slices went down my gullet, and a pizza hangover hit me the next morning. Candler and I rolled on up Rte. 19 the next morning, headed for Summersville's Whipporwill climbing and swimming. Good times.

I shall return.

one helluva guy

Have you ever met someone so selfless, so giving that he or she would give free rein of their house for the weekend at a moment's notice? Friends like that are hard to come by in this increasingly fragmented world we live in. Everyone who was blessed to have crossed paths with Chris Hale would agree, "He's one helluva guy."

Chris moved to Chattanooga before the rest of my climbing buds from Gainesville. His tiny apartment was often covered with fifteen or twenty crashpads and the accompanying dirtbags sprawled on the floor. Not just for one weekend once a year; almost every weekend when the weather was right during climbing season. He didn't seem to care; good times with friends and good times climbing. Working just enough to climb. He lived the life.

Before I knew him, I never would've considered calling him on Thursday or Friday to say I was climbing for the weekend and asking to stay. Every one did it, but it was because he loved being around other climbers, even if not at the crag. One time, I was passing through Chatty, planning on staying with some other friends, but I'd called Chris to see if he wanted to climb while I was in town. We got in a few hours at Little Rock City, and I still hadn't heard from my other friends. He offered his place without a moment's hesitation. Stories like this were left in his wake when he left Chattanooga to follow the climbing seasons around the country.

We lost a great friend this week. I hope we can honor him with his spirit and love of life every time we pull hard on sandstone, granite, or limestone outdoors. He will be sorely missed.

a long, wet spring

"Stupid rain."

Josh's text wakes me up a little too early, and I get a little too anxious. I look out my window, see early rays of sunshine peeking through the trees, and think him to be crazy. Presumably, it rained Saturday night. I was fast asleep. My balcony was indeed wet. After much deliberation, we decided to go anyway. We soon found out that the boulders and flora were wet at our destination too.

Oh, well. New crag, new car smell, exploration feeling. Rocky Gorge Reservoir is in Montgomery County, Maryland. It's a bit past our least favorite local crag/crack den Northwest Branch. From what we can tell, it seems like it may be our new favorite local home. From descriptions online, we were able to locate 4 or 5 boulders. What the crag lacks in quantity, it makes up for in normal boulder quality. Nothing exceptional, but enough to get a fix for the morning when Coopers is too far away, and a week-long trip to the Southeast is out of the question.

We'll be back.

like, totally rad

So, we went to Yosemite on Wednesday. We totally had a blast, like for sure!

We got to see all these amazing waterfalls. All the pretty snow melts which is sad, but it totally makes the rivers strong and stuff. Then when they make waterfalls, they're the raddest. Totally.

So, we went hiking up like 600 steps of stone to get to the top of one of them. There were all these people on the trail, and I was all like, "Excuse me, I'm trying to get my solitude on. You people are in my way on this totally paved trail. It's like I'm at the mall, which I'm totally not because I don't see an Auntie Anne's or Gap in sight. Which reminds me, so would I look good with a nose piercing? Not like a big one, just like one of those really cute stars that twinkles..."

We got to take these totally awesome photos of all the falls and these rocks around us. I think one was called El Capitan, which means like The Capitan in Spanish. You'd think I would know that, but my Spanish teacher was such a flake. I mean, oh, my god. How am I supposed to learn Spanish? It's like a whole 'nother language, and I already speak American. Isn't that enough?

So then today, we went to the Center of the Universe. I mean, for real. It's like where all these really amazing climbers go and climb on these boulders. Without ropes! Can you believe it?! Then it started raining and we had to leave. Total bummer.

Wait, wrong Valley accent? Oops. See what happens when I drive 200 miles through desolate farmland in eastern Cali. My mind wanders a little bit. Off to San Fran tomorrow again. Hopefully, my mind will be right...

hey, person coming from israel!

Or as Lee put it, "Yo, Semite!" He's a clever one, that Lee. Anyhow, that's where we're headed today. A shiny new day dawns on us. It's gorgeous here again, but yesterday's dawn looked the same before rains descended on our brief tour of San Francisco.

We saw the one typical SF sight, took a few pictures of it, decided it was too wet, and went to get a pie. Our day scrambling and climbing and hiking was not as productive as we'd have hoped on Monday. The temperatures were too warm for sandstone slopers to be any fun, and the parks service had shut down the redwood trail we wanted to hike. Controlled burning. Can't say I'm that upset about the fact they were actually doing controlled burns with the NIMBY attitude that can precede them. More disappointed that I couldn't hike that trail that day.

So, off to the Valley we go. Hopefully the weather gods are on our side, though the weather scientists seem to be stacked against us. Keep your fingers crossed!

californication

Safely landed in the Golden State yesterday. Eaten a little bit of food it seems. Good times with family thus far. Fighting that nagging back injury of mine. Lately, it's been fierce, but I am not going to let something chronic keep me off the rocks. Today was a little warm; tomorrow, likely a little cooler. Perfect for sandstone.

She and I aim to hit a local spot for a spell, do a little hiking, shutterbugging, and bouldering on some West Side sandstone. We'll see how it compares to that sweet southern sloperiffic sandstone I'm used to. Come to find out that the problem I was salivating over on Vimeo goes at a V-fun. The video or pictures will be dope though; I dug through the topo on the plane yesterday. No classics marked, so we'll just hop around to the problems I can flash or fall safely on.

Classic climber named problems all of them. Tick list to follow by the end of the week. My tips are sweating for that granite in the Center of the Universe. Hopefully, Mother Nature and hordes of tourists don't impede that goal.

At least we'll get some solitary hiking time and quality time together to take in the sights the rest of the week. Good times. My body is telling me it's late, though the west coast time zone tells me otherwise. G'nite.

the sounds of silence

The whole day through, it was a madhouse in here. What a disaster of a morning with one, and a fidgety, barely focused day for all.

Now, it's quiet as a tomb. I can actually get some work done.

Alas, what am I doing? Barely working. Too excited for our upcoming trip to the Golden State. Too excited to focus on anything but Castle Rock and Yosemite dreaming.

Castle rock bouldering from Nicolas Mathieu on Vimeo.
So, I won't be flashing V10s or anything, but there is this wicked-looking V4 called The Spoon that I want to burn up.

Oh, and this is why I want need must go to Yosemite. Maybe I can soak up some history and ability by osmosis of the Tommy Caldwells and Ron Kauks and Chris Sharmas of the world that have climbed this amazing piece of stone.

Midnight Lightning from Deep Roots Media - Dane Henry on Vimeo.

faced with a choice

Saturday night, whilst enjoying pescatarian French food, drinking wine, and laughing with my better half's family, I was faced with a choice.

Option one, stay home and watch a basketball game with a buddy of mine who I don't get to see a whole lot outside of football season. Option two, get up at 7am on a Sunday, drive three hours to the crag, clip some bolts, enjoy the sunshine, and ride three hours back.

Hmm. Go big, or go home? I chose go big.

Admittedly, I was tempted to stay home. After last week's just getting over a cold, and faced with two weddings this month in Florida, I would have relished a lazy Sunday reading in my hammock on my balcony. Alas, it wasn't to be. Sandstone called my name.

It was a great day. New people to climb with. It had been an awfully long time since I'd hopped in a car with a near stranger to go climbing. I feel like the last time was a trip to Chattanooga three years ago or so with Heckmann and Sarah. It was a great weekend, filled with interesting conversations and one Nintendo-themed send.

For all the time we three spent cragging, I think we only got on four routes. Much different than a day bouldering where I can get on far more climbs, the sheer length of the routes prevented a large number. I got to be rope gun for our first two climbs. (Rope gun, for those not in the know, is the climber that climbs each route first. It is assumed that said climber will send cleanly so that the rope quickly makes it to the top of the route, so that all others can climb it as well. Rope gun is also tasked with cleaning the route of all gear safely if no one else can send. Fortunately, I didn't have to step up on the latter.) Now, I say sheer length, but I will be mocked mercilessly by our Franklin tour guide. I am used to short boulder problems. When a route streaks past the treeline, I get a little concerned and spaced. My forearms tend to get tired on such climbs. First route was called Castaway. Not quite as hard as the Castaway at Little Rock City. I remembered how to clip in, didn't make any mistakes, and was able to choose from the far too many chalked holds around the fourth bolt.

Route two was the aformentioned streaker. Nine bolts of exposed awesomeness. I think I made it to the seventh bolt without resting before finishing up with several long deadpoints. Blood, Sweat, and Chalk. The boulderer-belittling tour guide was somewhat impressed. Tim took a few rests too. Rough Saturday.

Route three was the pinnacle of our attempts' difficulty. Bird of Prey. Also known as 7-11, because it is mostly 5.7 moves going into the 5.11 crux sequence at the top. We all had trouble figuring it out. With sapped forearms, none of us were able to send it clean. Had we not climbed Blood, Sweat and Chalk prior, I would have done better. Whether or not I would've sent eventually, I don't know. Those slopers on the top were nasty. Tim did manage to clip the anchors, lest we leave my shiny quickdraws behind. Maybe next time we go there, I'll get on it again. I can still feel the moves...

Route four was a gimmicky start, four bolt climb called Jump Start. I turned the lower section into a boulder problem, enjoyed the motion, and hung out on top for a little while. I could get used to this sport climbing thing, but I'm going to need to step my game up yet again to get any good at it. Any suggestions?

going big

Going big does always lead to going home. Going big too often leads to staying home sometimes when you'd rather be out enjoying life. This weekend was one such case of circumstances combining with fatigue to keep me in on what turned out to be a pretty spectacular weather weekend.

Too bad.

A lack of planning on our parts led to a lack of plans. Climbing would have been good; alas, the local place we chose in our shortsight turned out to be sketchy access, so we bailed on it. The weather turned out too warm to hit the slopes, so no riding either. Conversely, the temps were too cold for too much bike riding, so as you know, I was relegated to climbing in a gym with seemingly perfect, dry conditions.

I miss my Florida sunshine, but I reckon I'll get a good dose of it in a few weeks when I go back for two weddings. That'll be pretty darn close to springtime, and all I'll be hoping for up here is some warmer temps. That'll lead to bigger trips for bigger rocks and bigger sends. For now, I'll have to settle for the fleeting glimpses of sunlight I get through my classroom window and my windshield in the mornings. Lord knows I haven't been out of here early enough lately to catch those late afternoon rays!

Spring break is fast approaching, and plans are set to see some big walls. Yosemite granite is calling my name. I doubt I'll get on El Capitan or Salathe Wall, but I might try to soak up some history via Midnight Lightning. Lyn Hill makes it look so easy on video. I doubt my lanky frame can do what her nasty strong five feet two inches breezed through, but it'll be fun to try.

That's all I got. Back to the grindstone.

the onion, climber edition

Gym Rat Climbs Despite Splitting Hangover Headache

Local plastic puller Ben dragged his sorry ass to the climbing gym this afternoon, despite having a splitting headache from drinking too many delicious beers. He made this decision to go to the gym after discussing it with fellow gym rat Jason at Rocket Bar last night. In lieu of actually going somewhere outside to climb, they deferred to the rock gym for today's session.

"I mean, Claudiu set all those new problems. There's that nasty yellow V4," reasoned Jason. "The problems are only going to be around for a month. Rocks will always be there."

Upon arriving at the gym, Ben was horrified to discover a birthday party going on. His headache worsened with every knee-high anklebiter shrieking to hear the echo.

Failing miserably at warming up, Ben got a drink of water and managed to dribble half of it down his shirt. He then proceeded to collapse onto the nearest crashpad to "rest his eyes." He awoke with a start and drool on his cheek minutes later to try again. The cycle repeated with each epic fail on mind-numbingly easy climbs. During the longest of these rests, a fellow climber drew a chalk outline around him, mocking his hungover state.

With concern behind his Grizzly Adams beard, local climbing hippie Rainbow shook the unconscious Ben, "Hey, man. Are you alright?" Ben awoke to a combination of Rainbow's 10 year-old La Sportiva Mythos fungus and the smell of a dirtbag climber that hadn't showered in a week. The overwhelming odor caused him to dry heave the remnants of his lunch into the paper-towel filled trash can.

Wiping the potato chips and marshmallows out of his facial hair, "I didn't even drink that much. Maybe four or five pints. I've tried everything to make the pain go away. Bloody Mary, mimosa, beer, Advil. That used to do the trick in college," quipped the once-frat boy on his way out of the gym to sleep it off on his Ikea futon, "Man, it's hell getting old!"

no pain, no gain

After the bouldering escapades and escalades of Sunday, I sure didn't want to climb hard yesterday after work. Planning on doing some training and route climbing, I walk into the gym to discover new boulder problems.

Dammit.

Lucky for me, I was easily lured away from the 45 degree wall by a knot-tying LSU Tiger. During football season, I don't know if I'd trust him. He claims we're just trading the trophy back and forth. We'll see come October how that works out. Warmed up on a few 5.9s, no worries. Hey, let's try this 5.12. What am I insane?

Yes.

Hop on the slopey, microscopically crimpy 5.12. Flash denied.

Barely. One move from the top, I miss one of the better holds on the route. A micro jug that I'd have called a crimp at the beginning of the climbing career. Too bad. It was balancy and technical and awesome. So what if it's sandbagged. It's a confidence booster, and maybe now I won't shy away from hopping on those twelves at the gym. Maybe when I get on the sharp end outside again, I won't be spooked by an eleven. We'll see.

Ropework being done, I bouldered for a bit on last week's new problems. The freshest new problems were glutted with people. Sure, I could've worked my way in, but I wasn't in the mood to fight with the machismo. Finish up the night on my new training goal.

A push-up pyramid. Simply put, push-up sets increasing, then decreasing in number with very little rest between them. Start at one, go up to ten, and back down again. The goal would be doing 100 pushups in 15 minutes or so.

1 + 2 + 3 + 4 + 5 + 6 + 7 + 8 + 9 + 10 = 55, then back down again makes 45 more for 100. The ultimate goal might be to do this, then add a pull-up pyramid to the mix. Certainly a long ways off. Last night, muscle failure. I think I made it to eight on the way up before my chest and triceps started giving way. Shampooing after the gym was a struggle last night. My pecs are a litte twitchy today. Next week, try again.

spring-like temps

Winter went on vacation this weekend. The weeks of below freezing nights still haven't thawed all the snow and ice out in the woods and waters, but this weekend was downright warm. Fifties yesterday, sixties today. May as well have been summertime, what with the short sleeves I sported today.

She and I went for a deliciously delightful ride on our bicycles yesterday. Metro'ed into the city, wheeled around, checked out a museum, then took off to Georgetown. University, by way of M Street. For you non-District denizens, a ride down M Street is gridlock in a car and somewhat treacherous on a bike. It's mind-numbingly slow on the former, and considerably quicker on the latter. I'll take my bike. Traipsing around a college campus was a lot of fun again; she was remarkably tolerant of my shutterbuggery. Look for the pictures on the other channel later this week.

Today, Northwest Branch Creek put out the Batman spotlight to call all the suburban "hikers" on a beautiful day. After an hour delay due to an alarm being set for the wrong eight o'clock, we got out there to cool enough temps, but no need for sleeves. An overhung, crimpy boulder problem finally fell to me, but I have the dubious distinction of getting the last ascent. A first ascent is often sought by climbers, but I've yet to pull one. The next aspiring ascensionist unfortunately broke a key hold, thus forever changing the face of the climb. It went from a V3 to a V-hard. Too bad.

The rest of the day was spent seeing all that NW Branch has to offer. That is approximately three more boulders. Hyperbole of course, but it is a small area. Never a destination, but somehow I wind up climbing there several times a year. Despite the short day, we wound up at an awesome pub in Great Falls called the Old Brogue for a few pints and some good bar food.

I can't wait until the weather improves, and we can make some real trips to some real crags. Coopers, here we come!

too much fun

For once, a little bitty inservice at work has turned into a half-hearted, goofy hobby for post-climbing trip reminiscing. Where Windows Movie Maker meets grainy, point-and-shoot videos. Some mp3s show up at the party, and we have a nonsensical climbing film.

Well, two actually. Enjoy!

almost wobbled

i guess it's this week. i'm not sure why. i seem to be attracting the inept and inexperienced. on the road, in the gym, on the metro. there has to be some causality. instance number 103 from this week.

last night at the gym, i tied some knots so i could pull on some vertical plastic. i was still a little weak from friday's epic session which saw me work and send two V7s, a V6, a few V5s, and countless made up shenanigans (including playing takeaway on one of those V7s!). in any event, my biceps were sore and not willing to crank very hard on anything, much less what the strong(er) boulderers were inventing on the 45 degree wall. i convinced rob to put his harness on and climb some routes.

first one i get on is a wicked sloperfest of a 5.11. heel hooks, long deadpoints, and few rests snake their way up one of the tallest walls in the gym. did i mention it's slightly less than vertical the whole way up? flash pumped, my forearms fail me about three-quarters of the way up. as i chalk up and rehearse the moves, i notice movement below me. some kid clipped himself into the auto-belay and was now climbing below me. for you non-climbers, this is what's known in the climbing world as a bad thing. no matter your brain function, you should realize that climbing beneath someone who is probably going to fall is probably not the best idea for your safety, much less the other climber's.

"hey. you shouldn't be on the autobelay while i'm climbing on this rope," i say calmly.

"oh, i'll be okay. our routes don't cross, and i'm sure not going to fall," he responds rather snidely. my blood begins to boil as about 10 feet above his sight, our routes did indeed cross, and i took his falling comment as a i'm better than you kind of jab. which was not exactly the case as he was on a 5.9 jug haul.

so, i hang dog until he gets up and downclimbs so that he doesn't hit me when he releases his grip(!). i haul myself on, cruise the last few moves on adrenaline, and rob lowers me.

at this point, i'm fixing to toss a wobbler at this kid.

Tossing a wobbler” means throwing a fit after trying really hard and failing. A corollary is that wobblers are most often “tossed” (Britain) or “thrown” (U.S.) by sport climbers when they fall—usually a recurring fall at a specific high point on a route (though a fall henceforth from any point lower than this is equally wobbler-inducing). Tossing a wobbler is not limited to sport climbers, and boulderers and alpinists have been known to “throw mean wobblers” (slang). Trad and aid climbers, however, typically never toss a wobbler because trad climbing is too scary and aid climbing is too boring to justify anger.

not only was he stupid, he was arrogant about it and unapologetic. i could've throttled him. it was no better on terra firma. i kept my composure, though my italian blood was cursing lemme at him.

and thus ends your climber lingo lesson for the day. time to go play in the snow.

monday night heights

last week was a high gravity week at the gym. every problem was a challenge; every move felt like a deadpoint. taking the weekend off is usually enough to solve that. of course, i went climbing on saturday with rob & brad. weather was nasty, so we went out to the other gym in sterling. great bouldering. rob and i messed around mostly; brad was intrigued/fascinated/slightly overwhelmed by the bouldering scene. remembering back to my first few trips to the gym, i can recall the acrophobia kicking in about five feet off the deck. brad was no different, though he did a pretty good job running down a few V1s on his first plastic outing.

this week, high gravity weighing heavy on my mind. ha ha, get it. weighing. heavy. gravity. anyhow...

i decided on monday to rope up rather than be a boulder rat. i spotted a belay partner waiting for the auto-belay. i'd climbed with her before. she's good people and climbs about the same as i do on rope, maybe harder if only because of endurance. she wanted to get on the new routes, foremost a 5.11. a slopey, pinchy, sustained route. the crux was about halfway up. i rocked through that and ran out of steam soon thereafter. no endurance. i put all the moves together, came down flash pumped, and flailed on the next route too. pockety 5.10 does not equate to easier in my book, especially when my forearms were already screaming.

here it is, two days later, my forearms are still fatigued; yet, i'll probably tie some knots and see if i can't tick the redpoints on those two pretty sweet routes first thing tonight. maybe i ought to warm up this time though...