Bird shit, Hobos, and Some Sprinkles

Yesterday I went sport climbing at a limestone crag near Glenwood Springs called the Neighborhood. I went with Josh Wharton and Jed Wareham-Morris, who live not too far down the street. Jed is on the left and Josh on the right.

Together we are probably the top(only) three climbers who live in Rifle. Josh is a professional alpinist who zips off twice a year to climb the coolest mountains in the world, and Jed is a ridiculously motivated and slightly obsessive sport climber who lives, breathes, and thinks climbing. I have known both of them since I was in college in Boulder, and they are great climbing buddies to have around. This small obscure crag was one of the few places Josh hadn't climbed within a hundred miles or so, so he was psyched.

The Neighborhood has got some incredible ambiance, lemme tell you.
You have to park near the train tracks and walk down them a ways towards the canyon. As you walk you pass by some thermal holes which stink like sulfur and which rumor has it hobos actually crawl into and use as vapor caves. Soon you hike up a hill and encounter the crag - a short piece of dirty limestone covered in bird shit and practically grid-bolted. Litter dots the ground, and the highway noise from I-70, which lies just across the canyon, blares out any attempts at long-range discussion. The weirdest thing might have been the nesting Canadian Goose that Josh stumbled across at the top of the first climb, which hissed at him defending her territory. I had no idea geese roosted on cliffs. Around the corner was a larger cave which housed some harder routes. Unfortunately it was coated in bird shit, had pigeons flying in and out of it, and while belaying I was standing in probably 4 inches of bird shit. Josh thought the routes were pretty good; I was disgusted. I did find some old hobo signatures on a rock panel, one of which dated 1893, which was slightly anthropologically interesting. I can only assume that birds hadn't yet taken over when the hobos frequented this place.

Today the climbing was much nicer. Josh and I climbed with Micah, who was in town to give a slide show about his adventures last night. We climbed beautiful rock in the pleasant Rifle Canyon, and despite getting sprinkled on during one climb, the day was amazing. This is me climbing on the project of the day called Kingfisher.

Birthday Party in the Desert

Friday afternoon I made the last minute decision to bag the weekend of skiing and head to the desert for my friend Micah Dash's 30th birthday party. Here is the birthday boy himself, looking like he's been in the desert for awhile, with his girlfriend Amelia back and to his right and Ned back and to the left. I first met Micah many years ago when I was a young neophyte climbing in Yosemite Valley. He was pretty much a full time climbing bum then, but occasionally took the time to complete a semester of school at CU. While I was finishing up in Boulder we would sometimes run into each other on campus, and soon became partners for sport climbing. I climbed my first ever 5.13 with Micah belaying me, and he has been a good friend since. I had not seen Micah in almost a year, and seeing as how there would be a large and fun posse climbing in The Creek, and it was his birthday, I just had to make the trip.

Kristo was already on his way out from Boulder, but we agreed to rally together from my house. I managed to beat him there on my way home from Snowmass by just a couple of minutes, and one speeding ticket and about four hours later we made it to the monkey bivy beneath the Bridger Jack spires. Next day we climbed with a large crew at the Reservoir Wall. Here is Kristo climbing the short but amazing Left Crack, which he managed to redpoint at 5.12, being belayed by John Dickey. I played top-rope hero for the day, which was really quite mellow and allowed me to try a bunch of very hard climbs that would have required far more gusto to lead. As the day went on more friends kept arriving and the anticipation of the impending party grew. Gobi covered hands and impending darkness eventually drove everyone away from the cliff and back to camp, where the party ensued. A clear full moon night, a campfire, whiskey, beer, and lots of people made this a good one to remember.

I love the openness of the desert. I have always been attracted to desolate, remote places, where there are no sounds except the wind or an occasional bird, and lights from towns don't even come close to penetrating the darkness of night. I love being able to watch the entire sky light up during a sunset in colors that would look fake if they were painted; with no buildings or telephone wires to obstruct the view. We remained in the desert for two more days, climbing and relaxing, cooking and hiking, until everyone had somewhere else they needed to be. Somehow when I leave the memories all become blended into the giant continuum of desert road-trip memories, eventually becoming indistinguishable from every other trip to the desert, but always enshrouded by that feeling of comfortable loneliness which draws me back with wonder every time.

The Lightning Bolt Cracks

My friend Danny Uhlmann was here from Jackson this past weekend, and seeing as how he had never climbed in the desert before we decided to go climb a classic desert tower - the Lightning Bolt Cracks route on North Six Shooter Peak. This is a picture of Danny with his quintessential smile, pulling over the rim onto the summit. I met Danny this past summer in Bellingham, WA, where we were both guiding for the American Alpine Institute. Over the course of the summer we had countless time to hang out, whether it was playing cards in a tent while storm bound on Mt. Baker, or climbing granite cracks in Index. I have always enjoyed his enthusiasm and never ending supply of conversation topics. Danny has been killing it in the back country of the Tetons all winter, and despite many initial plans which fell through, Danny managed to make the
trip down with his friend Trish, who was taking an avalanche course in Eagle, Colorado. We spent three days in the Utah desert climbing area of Indian Creek, then came back to Rifle, met up with Trish, and enjoyed a great day of skiing. That's the next story, though.

On Friday we rallied to the Creek early and climbed a bunch of fantastic crack pitches. This was Danny's first experience with the uniform cracks of the area, and unfortunately his tape gloves did not hold up to the abuse he put them under. After one climb they were shredded, and by the end of the sixth pitch, Danny's hands were a mess of scraped off skin and oozing puss. Despite this Danny smiled on and we remained psyched for our climb the next day. Saturday we awoke and quickly departed for North Six Shooter, shown here. The approach involved scrambling up quite a large cone of talus to the base, but soon we found ourselves racking up at the bottom of the three pitch climb.

I led the first pitch, which was stellar and involved a hand crack to a flaring off-width finish, which Danny is seconding in this photo. With a few grunts Danny was through and off on the next pitch, a steep and hard finger and hand crack. This positioned us at the base of the tremendous last pitch. I led up into a bombay slot, a feature which requires chimneying with incredible air beneath your feet, as if above bombay doors in an airplane, and out to the lip of a roof, where a long reach around the apex revealed perfect hand jams up a crack in the vertical wall above. I can definitely say this was one of the more spectacular pitches I have climbed in a long while, but of course no pictures since Danny was busy belaying me.

As I sat on the summit and belayed Danny up the last pitch, I had plenty of time to enjoy the incredible vistas in every direction. An energetic wind scoured the tower. The feel of it on bare skin was not cold and bitter, but refreshing. The top of the tower rises way above the valley floor, and horizon to horizon, the sky is utterly expansive. How lucky to be in such a place - this is what I love about the desert, its huge desolation and the sense of exposure it instills in humans. This picture is of South Six Shooter Tower, which rises like a twin pinnacle across the emptiness.











On the summit we relaxed and contemplated these things and many more. Eventually the crispness of the wind chased us down the rappels and back to our camp, but the wonder of this adventure carried on in our spirits until, well, it still carries on...

Sunny Rock Climbing in Rifle

Last week was the best week of skiing we have had all season, with tons of fresh snow, but the brutally cold temperatures and lack of sunshine also worked to burn me out a little bit. I notched my 70th day of the season on Saturday skiing with the Snow Lions for the last time, which was actually great fun. And now the weather has taken a 180 degree turn, the resort is dead until spring break, and spring fever is beginning to set in.

The wonderful sunshine inspired me to do a little bit of rock climbing in Rifle canyon, home to the best limestone sport climbing in the country. This canyon is one of the main reasons we decided to move to Rifle in the first place, and I had a terrific season climbing here last fall. After three months of non-stop skiing, though, I am hopelessly out of shape. But, there is no time like sunny time to get back on the wagon, so I headed out with my friend Josh Wharton, who lives here in town, to get in as many pitches as possible on Sunday. As was expected, after only a couple pitches my forearms felt more like they were filled with pudding than with muscle, but it was nice to just be doing something different.

Yesterday was again beautiful and we headed up to the canyon again, with Josh's friend Kevin Cochrane, to work ourselves some more. Lots of other people seemed to have the same Rifle fever that we did, as there were some 15 people climbing in the canyon on a Monday. The pleasant temps are forecast to continue, so I am getting psyched to head to the desert with my friend Danny Uhlmann who will be visiting from Jackson on Thursday.