pine creek canyon, straight shooter wall

While climbing at the Red Rocks, we only ventured out of the Calico Basin area to climb twice. The first time we went to the second pull-out (on the scenic loop), where our initial destination wall of climbing was full. This sent us on an adventure that got us slightly lost.  We never found our back-up area either, but stumbled instead upon a mysterious bolted wall with 3 moderate climbs. We played around on these chossy routes, realizing there was probably a good reason they didn’t make it into our guide book (though many decent climbs seem to be left out of the book we happen to own). It was a good day in the sun and exploring just the same. For whatever reason, we never went back to the loop, and instead just kept finding new fun routes off the Calico Basin road…Until one of our lasts days in Nevada.

We were having a pseudo-rest day, and decided to check out a new area. Jonathan chose the Pine Creek Canyon because of one inspiring picture he saw of a perfect finger crack. I anticipated an easy approach and decided to wear my flip flops (definitely not a great approach shoe unless you plan to belay from the parking lot). The walk out was really pretty. Pine Creek had a different feel than the other Red Rock areas I had seen. There was a grassy meadow, quite a few small green plants and yes, pine trees, this valley path led straight into an array of sandstone towers -our destination.

Up a rocky trail/scramble is the wall with the route Jonathan came to check out – the Straight Shooter Wall, 5.9+.  It really is an alluring finger crack. We knew we had to climb it – it was slightly less than vertical, and short – totally qualifies for a rest day.

We got there just before another team, who was also here for this climb in particular. They would wait their turn by climbing another route, while we were on it.  We chatted with them about the climbing they had done. These girls were from out of town and had been here awhile (not quite as long as us though). When one of them was pointing out a climb in her book – which, of course, wasn’t in ours (they had the  black book of Red Rocks, which has more routes and better descriptions than ours) I couldn’t follow anything she was saying or pointing at. I was mesmerized by her huge and beat up hands. She had the hands the size of a grown man, fingers thick like knobby sausages, covered in calluses and chalk.  I shuddered and looked down at my own boney hands – I had hoped climbing would make them stronger (and I do seem to have a bit more meat on them than before), but would climbing ruin them? I suppose enough finger and hand jams could have this effect…I made a silent vow to tape my hands and treat them well…then I looked back up to this finger crack, and seemed to forget all else.

Jonathan made quick, flawless work of the lead (enjoyed it so much, he got gangster at the bottom – the ultimate gesture of his approval).  I roped up and was on my way. The climb was delicious. All of the finger jams were there (though thin in places) and felt like they fit my fingers well. I was very happy that the climb also had nice feet – a few nubs, ledges and jams. The climb was fluid and lovely, but over way too soon.

We called it a day after the crack since the sun was starting to go down and we still had to hike out. On the way down, I slid slightly on the steep rocky trail and managed to slice my toe open on a sharp rock. My own fault for the flip flops, I know. It was throbbing and bleeding everywhere. Jonathan very carefully wrapped the injury in a homemade tape band-aid (our first aid kit was back in the car, so the antibiotic cream would have to wait).  I got a lecture about proper footwear, a slow hobble on the walk out, and a small toe injury, but I was happy it wasn’t worse. I seem to learn some lessons the hard way. With an injury on the end of my toe, there was no telling if I would be able to climb any time soon. Climbing shoes fit so snuggly against the toes, and the pressure put against them while climbing could make matters worse. I recently read a book, Breaking Trail by Arlene Blum, who is a mountaineer and scientist with an overpowering will of self. In the book she broke her leg, but focused all of her attention on the break.  With nothing other than mental conviction, her broken leg healed long before the doctors thought possible and she was out of her cast in time to join her team in another mountain expedition. And so, I started a mantra in my head to heal my toe. I would climb the next day.

Zion, The Narrows

We woke on the second day to rain. The air was filled with the most intoxicating aroma of wet desert plants. The fragrance was a sweet earthy smell unlike anything Ihave ever inhaled. The rocks had a mystical appearance, wrapped in thick fog punctuated by sunshine. The trees were dark silhouettes with vivid leafs contrasting damp trunks. Zion seems an appropriate name for such a place. It has an enchanting quality, almost spiritual beauty.

Due to the rain, climbing was out of the question. We decided to at least do the mile approach to the beginning of the Narrows hike. It was a crisp morning, but the sun was out and walking kept us warm. I was giddy, singing and bouncing my way up the trail. The trail follows the Virgin River up the narrows, we stopped frequently to take photos. The mile was over before I was ready to be done. The trail essentially dead-ended into a rocky landing at a bend in the river.

A few people were stepping lightly on the rocks here for a better view up the Narrows, which is a river with rock cliffs on either side. As you go up the river, the Narrows become, well, more narrow. The rock walls become more close together, the dry beaches more infrequent. The ranger at the visitor center told us the water is about 40 degrees this time of year, and to hike it most people wear waders or wet suits. You can walk up most of the river, but some parts are deep enough that people swim.

Standing on the edge of the river was nice, but we were amongst a growing crowd of people. I couldn’t handle it, I wanted to see more. We didn’t have the wetsuit or waders that the park ranger had suggested, but I wanted to do it anyway. Little persuasion was needed to get Jonathan to accompany me, and we rolled up our pants and just started heading in. We crossed diagonally to the other side which had a rocky beach, each wet to our shins. I looked back and another guy had followed us, but had slipped and was standing up unhurt, but soaking wet. I was grateful that my hiking boots kept me stable on the rocky bottom, but they were lead weights when wet. The first crossing wasn’t bad, I was already numb and eager to go on.

Jonathan followed the rock out a ways and ended up waist deep. I decided to hike up the middle and found it a bit shallower. We had crossed again and walked on dry land for awhile. The next plunge into the water seemed to be much deeper. I ventured out in a few directions, but couldn’t find a route that would be less than waist deep. We weren’t equipped to swim up this thing, so we decided this was enough. It was beautiful. We took a few more pictures, and carefully made our way back.

We were soaked and happy. We walked more quickly back to the car so that we could change out of wet clothes and warm up. Once we had on dry clothes, we sat on a warm rock by the river and enjoyed the sun on our skin. The wind picked up though and we jumped back in the car, it was time for us to head back to the warmer rocks of Vegas.

Fall, Beauty, & Finger Cracks

Yosemite Valley is beauty. I am in love in a lovely place.

Kristine sitting between climbs and looking up at Fall in the Valley (the picture is glowing in part because the shutter speed was slowed to almost half a second in an attempt to capture the flight of the rich yellow leaves to the ground):

This is what she saw:

We both climbed hard today. Kristine made it up her first 5.9 ever, which is especially impressive in the Valley. It was a sustained thin finger crack. Kristine’s preference are hand cracks because she’s very quickly picked up the skill of hand and foot jamming in those cracks. I really love finger cracks. I find the finger jams very solid and the climbing usually very fluid.
We’ll be sore tomorrow. We’ll probably still climb, but maybe mix up the day with a hike up to Yosemite Falls.

Kristine learned the mountaineers coil and did a beautiful job of coiling the rope and tying it to her back.

Quick Recap

I don’t know what day it is but i know it’s been too long since our last post. So Here’s a Recap:

Sadness dripping from my face in my last Seattle coffeeshop.

We sold our beloved VW diesel Golf the night before we set out on the road. It was definitely one of those things that was meant to be.

Our first meal out of the Eurovan at Golden Gardens.

Eggs on toast with salt, pepper, and paprika. Delicious!

Our first morning out at Index. We read around the fire all morning.

Kristine lookin’ so good!

Kristine lovin’ on some rocks.

A candid shot part way up Mt. Persus.

Filtering much needed water on Mt. Persus.

*I’m still an HTML retard and spent a long time trying to format this better, but it is what it is.