The Barb

MIchael on the roof 9 pitch

        Having had fun on the Petit Grepon, Michael, Jonny, and I decided to do another threesome. This time we decided on the Barb (5.10-) on Spearhead. Against our will, we all decided to sleep this particular night, but between work, climbing, and entertaining relatives, we were all left with no more than two hours.

        Jetting to the ever so popular bivy situated just below the snowfield of Spearhead’s base, we ditched all unnecessary weight at the “Sheridan”. From there we reached the base of the route and ran into another group. As a team of two, they moved with more efficiency and breezed by us.

Easy climbing placed us at the first belay where I began to feel weak and got a small headache. I contagiously used my partners’ psych to continue and took the next pitch and Jonny the next. I started to wonder if it would be wise to not do difficult alpine days back to back on such little sleep. I practically run on pure GU for two days every weekend.

       Running on fumes, Jonny and I didn’t put up much of a fight for the gem pitches and Michael gladly tied in and walked them both. At the top of the Barb Flake we wasted some time getting slightly off route. My feet had swollen so much that it was obvious they wouldn’t be going back into my climbing shoes, once they had been taken off at the belay. So I followed Michael up the last two pitches of 5.7 to the summit where we refueled, fist bumped, and took a few pictures.

        It appears I am not very welcome on Spearhead. My last trip involved me pooping my way to the base of it and then once again while on lead, thirty feet run out, on the first pitch. How, you ask? Well if you must know, since I wasn’t on a crux pitch and only beginning my day, I refused to do it harnessed. It involved an uncomfortable heel hook, mantle, and a lot of embarrassment. I ended that day with an injured achilles tendon that put me on crutches for a week and haunts me to date. Despite my luck on Spearhead, I look forward to repeating Syke’s Sickle (5.9+), The Barb, and later on sending Spear Me the Details (5.11d).

Directissima

It was another Saturday and I was again partner-less. I called up Scott Matz, a friend I had met while working in the climbing department at JAX. We set our sights on Directissima (5.10b) on the Chasm View Wall. We were confident that it would be a cruiser day. As usual, I was on around two hours of sleep having got off work in a different city, cooked a meal, and racked. Without rush we spent an hour and twenty minutes to reach the start of our 4^th class scramble to the first belay anchors. While following the 3^rd pitch, I watched as Josh Wharton made history, making the first free ascent of the Dunn-Westbay Route (5.13b). Having only four alpine routes under my belt, I spent most of my day searching for confidence. I thrutched my way to the crux pitch, where I finally managed to find it lingering deep inside me. I coasted through the crux where I got pumped and decided to down climb a few moves and shake out. The next thing I knew I was looking up at my last piece and dangling on the sheer face. It was my first alpine lead fall and to my surprise, I actually gained confidence from it. After all, it was on a bomber, #3 C4. I ran out of quickdraws shortly after that due to poor communication between first time partners, and had to build a hanging belay. For efficiency, I gave my partner the last third of the pitch. At the top out, we both took our last sip of water and descended with dry camelbaks. Again, the day ended much longer than anticipated, but it was clear that he was in no hurry to get up or down; an area where I am known for finding redemption if slow climbing takes place. We ended the day with margaritas and beer at Ed’s Cantina where I bought Scott a beer for leading the heinous 5.9 squeeze pitch. The route presented difficulty for sure and was my hardest alpine route to date, but I am left with the feeling that I have yet to be tested.

A Threesome on the Petit Grepon

Get your mind out of the gutter! Michael Engelstad, Jonny Carson and I met at my place in Fort Collins at 12:00am where we all ate tacos that Jonny and I had been cooking. Before that we were sucking down PBRs at Trailhead. This left us with no sleep and Michael with an hour. To say the least, we weren’t expecting a long day and knew we were fast with approaches and descents. After all, it was intended to be a warm up to the alpine season.

Packing a regular rack and doubles for ropes, we anal-mom-walked to the snow and scree fields below the base where we carefully zig-zagged our way to the route. Not having messed around with doubles in some time, we slowly fumbled about on every belay station until the summit. It was painfully slow. While trying to remember what alpine climbing was like, the three of us led, cleaned, and made anchors slow. Our last meals made the belays quite unpleasant to say the least. As we reached the summit, we were greeted by booming thunder and dark clouds. Time wise the rappels went well, but we still got hit by some small hail on the last one. The descent brought better weather and a few good glissades that quickly turned into races.

Sam standing atop the summit

A Jog Up Long's Peak

It had been months since I’d climbed anything but sport, and bouldering hadn’t been an option due to a screwed up pully I brought home from the gym. I had started a new job and began life as a weekend warrior. Once again Jonny and I are limited to one alpine day a week. As partners that is. Having not been to altitude for months, I decided to take a jog up Longs Peak. I chose the Keyhole Route as I was not in shape to try to break any records.

Fueled by GU and Breaking Benjamin, my new kicks and I departed from the Long’s Peak trail head at 2:58am. I had snoozed my alarm several times earlier, making for a late departure. Accompanied by a full moon and an abundance of stars, I made good time to the boulder field where I managed to dislodge a small boulder, slip into its void and have it roll back and smash my left knee. It seems sucking down a GU while boulder hopping in the dark is a bad idea. It became immediately clear that I would have to smear GU on the surrounding rocks to lure in pikas and live off of their spars, lean, meat until rescue came. That or I would have to chop it off with a serrated GU packet. Around five or ten seconds into my ordeal I shifted uncomfortably to hear the small boulder grind against the surrounding rocks. So I picked it up, peed on it, and continued on my way to the summit. I had to save my tears for the descent in case I didn’t bring enough water. My pace slowed significantly as I gingerly limped towards the keyhole. I made the summit in three hours and two minutes with swollen knee and all. On the way down the swelling diminished around the keyhole and I ran non-stop to the car making an even five hour round trip, car to car ascent. Upon reaching cell phone service I discussed climbing Brown Palace with my good friend Ethan Saffer, but he suggested I sleep for my upcoming day on the Petite Grepon. My next solo will undoubtedly be faster and I have my eye on the Keyhole Ridge.

Failing Season

It’s been a while since our last post, and for that I apologize. Winter was a long season of failure. Being our first year swinging the tools, and overall relatively new to the game we are still developing our voices. What we know is we move fast on approaches and don’t mind a small rack. When in doubt, run it out. Most of what we’ve had to experience this season has been failure. With each mission, our acceptance of it grows deeper and our frustration greater. As partners we fill in the blanks and both have something to bring to the table. At 6’1” Jonny packs a hungry stride and a will to suffer. As for me, my lead head feels stronger than ever and I look forward to applying that to the mountains. Being new to the winter alpine, we are both eager to gain experience, but are also aware that one cannot make up for lost time in this game.

Despite being limited to one day a week to get a taste of altitude together, we managed to get out a decent amount, however never managed to reach any summits on our larger objectives. It seems that the wind remained “too damn high” the season’s duration. At least the days we were climbing. When until early spring came we managed to have a glimmer of success. It was then that we had our first chance to touch some ice on Big Mac (M4-WI4). We soloed to the first anchor where it was apparent that the looming, forty foot, cornices above us was more of a risk than we wanted to take. Especially since the sun had only been up for an hour and we were already stripped down to our thin base layers and looking at 70 degrees at noon. Although at first, the season appeared to be a complete wash, it proved to have made us much quicker at approaches on both dry ground and glacial traversing alike.

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