Climbing the Big Girl Rocks

Since I last posted, dear reader, my climbing has broken out of the gym into the wilderness.  First, I top roped outside for the first time in Kentucky back in March.  Then, I recently bouldered outside last week.  Both were very different experiences.

Tom and I hired a certified guide to take us out in Kentucky.  While we've lead indoors, we weren't comfortable doing it on our own for the first time, and we weren't too clear on how to clean an anchor.

It was an unusual week in Lexington, as the weather stayed solidly in the 80s.  It was a warm hike with our awesome guide to our first 5.9 in Red River Gorge.  I let Tom climb first, and he sailed up the route with ease.  He took his time, but never looked like he was struggling, and descended from the top with a huge smile.  Then it was my turn.  At first, I was excited.  But as soon as I got on the rock, my confidence fell out from under me.  Where are the holds?  I NEED MY COLORED DUCT TAPE TO TELL ME!  I spent a long time getting up, my hands were sweating, and I was shaking.  It was an awful site.  I pushed myself almost to the top using terrible technique, and was grateful to be high enough to justify being lowered.  As soon as I hit the ground, I broke out in a cold sweat and felt extremely nauseous.  It took me 5-10 minutes to shake the feeling, sitting on a rock, trying not to look like I felt.

The guide taught us how to clean anchor from the ground, and then we decided to walk over to a 5.8 to actually try it out.  I offered to go first and absolutely crushed the route.  The holds all seemed obvious to me, and the moves felt great.  It was a little bit slabby, and it was exactly what I needed.  That climb boosted my confidence 10 fold, and I happily stood at the top, admiring the view from a tiny ledge.  Tom climbed up right after me, cleaned anchor, and repelled down; I soon followed.  At that moment, I feel like I fell in love with outdoor climbing.  The air smelled wonderful, the sun was shining over the forest of trees before me, and I had climbed a real rock.  It felt amazing.

We finished off our climbing with a 5.10b called Little Viper.  Tom climbed first, but got stuck for a good 20 minutes on the crux, which involved "pulling a bouldering move" (as our guidebook described it).  It involved leveraging yourself over a protruding ledge by grabbing up high into a crack.  He eventually pulled off the move and sent the route.  With my new confidence, I climbed the route, only leaning back on the rope once to take a better look at my pathway up.  On my first try, I vaulted past the bouldering move, feeling like a total champ.  I got to go home a victor, with slightly torn up hands and the honor of having climbed the big girl rock.

Bouldering outdoors was a totally different story.  Tom and I were visiting family in Rhode Island and decided to try bouldering in Lincoln Woods.  The boulders are short and there is a large variety in the difficulty of the routes.  It seemed absolutely perfect for a first time bouldering.  We rented a crash pad from the local climbing gym and headed over.

We found the first boulder we wanted easily enough called Tomato Boulder.  It took about 3 minutes before I started being eaten alive by mosquitos.  I climbed a couple V0's, as did Tom, and they were incredibly easy.  We decided to move to another boulder, but not before I picked *two* ticks off my body.  I had forgotten all about ticks, having grown so accustomed to the Northwest, and was instantly horrified.  For the rest of our time climbing, I could never really refocus and just dreamed of leaving.

But since I couldn't leave without my street cred, we moved to another boulder.  This one was in a much nicer spot, with not as many bushes and trees around.  After Tom, I attempted to climb a V0+.  I'm not sure who is doing the ratings for that area, but considering the first V0 was on par with a VB from my local gym back home, I didn't expect the next V0 to feel like a V3.  I was a large crack to climb up from the base.  I gave up and climbed around the backside of the boulder and sat on top for a bit.

I don't take a lot of joy from admiring the view on top of a 10' tall boulder.  The world doesn't look that much different, and these climbs weren't very satisfying.  Finally, we moved to our last boulder near a dam.  (Not a smart move considering the mosquito issue.)  As we were being devoured, slapping each other intermittently, we came upon a boulder complete covered in graffiti.  Someone had come and spray painted arrows to all the holds to make it look just like a gym, marked with tape.  What a jackass.

I did like the Dam Boulder better than the others, as it had more technical climbs, but all the jugs were stuffed with leaves, sticks, spiders, and earthworms.  Not exactly something I was accustomed to dealing with indoors.

Overall, I was really turned off by outdoor bouldering.  I think I need to try climbing in Utah or the Southwest.  There can't be any bugs in the desert, right?

Turning It Up to 11

Two weeks ago at my ladies' climbing group, we started working on project routes for top roping. Before I even had a chance to pick out a route to project, Breanne was eyeing an overhanging 11a for me. However, she ended up changing her mind and putting me on a vertical 11c. My first reaction was that there was no way that I could climb something like that, since the hardest I had climbed was 10c, but I was up for trying it. I asked to warm up on something first, because I hadn't climbed in the last 45 minutes, and she told me to get on an 11a. An 11a?! Are you kidding me?

So I sheepishly asked to warm up on a nearby 10c instead, and she agreed. I flashed the 10c with a bit of effort, and I started to realize why I needed to kick it up a notch. She put me on the 11c, and I fell off over and over again. The holds were definitely small and each move was strong, like a bouldering route. After 20 minutes or so, I finally made it up the route in pieces, and it was a crazy feeling. I didn't know I was capable of an 11c, even piecewise.

Since then, I've been pushing myself to climb 11s. I've flashed a few 11a's, so I think I need to really project 11b's and 11c's. It's amazing to me that in 7 months, I'm able to climb in the 11 range at all.

But as many climbers will say, the number doesn't matter. You just climb hard and challenge yourself and it is what it is. Gyms typically rate routes to be a lot harder than they would be outdoors. An 11c at Vertical World probably translates to a 10c or 10d outside, and that's more important to me. My goal is to definitely make it out to the big girl rocks this summer, so I feel like climbing an 11 in a gym is nothing compared to climbing an 11 outside.

(Note: This is a crappy post. I'm stressed and tired and just wanted to get some of these thoughts down before I get too far away from them in time and experience. I'll be more intelligent and less douchey sounding later.)

New Heights

It's been a busy December, filled with finals and family, but now it's 2012 and I'm back on the bandwagon. I finished my lead climbing class in December, but I still have to take my test to get lead certified. For now, the boyfriend and I are getting back into climbing and we've climbed 3 of the past 5 days.

I'm happy to say that I haven't lost a lot of my ability, and can still comfortably call 10a's. My muscles don't feel quite as strong, but I'm sure that'll change soon.

More excitingly, Vertical World opened up a new gym in Seattle this past month with 60 foot high walls. We went there for the first time today, and it's quite a sight. The bouldering is fairly nice, but limited. The big showcase is the huge lead climbing wall and lots of awesome top roping routes. My first route, there definitely was an intimidation factor, but I just kept pushing and made it to the top without incident. After that, it was much less terrifying, although I'm sure it'll still take a little while before I'm completely comfortable with it. Also, belaying Tom on these routes is certainly interesting when he takes a fall. Several times, we've ended up at the same height, dangling in the air.

Notable accomplishments today are flashing a 10a on a 50 foot wall and getting halfway up a 12b slab route. It is nothing but bright orange chips, sprinkled over the wall. Even the finish hold is just a tiny ledge for finger pads and not very kind.

My left elbow has twinged since I started up climbing regularly again, but I'm hoping this will go away. It isn't affecting my climbing and it isn't super painful, but something to keep an eye on.

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I ended up climbing once in Rhode Island when I went home to visit family. I have to say that it wasn't the best experience. The routes were really reachy, and I found myself in a bit of a discussion with the guy who was belay testing me. The gym supports only ATC belaying, and as a result, they have a rule that every belayer must anchor in to a daisy chain that's fixed to the ground. I told the guy I wasn't comfortable anchoring in, and he told me that it was policy and that the manager might come over and talk to me if I didn't. I explained that I disagreed with adding hard shocks to the system when Tom takes a fall when I could easily just pop up a couple feet and soften the catch. I'm glad that I stood my ground (pun not intended, but amusing) and decided not to use the anchor. No one ever came over and talked to me, but I was definitely willing to debate the issue if necessary. It's cool to know that I'm learning more and more about the safety of my equipment and can make good decisions.

Also, I wonder if climbers in Rhode Island don't tend to have the same fear of climbing as climbers in Seattle do. There seems to be a different mood over here, where people are training for epic mountains. In RI, it seemed a bit more relaxed and recreational, but maybe I'm just reading too much into it. Just an interesting thought I had while I was there.