Soft Landings at Alta Today

If I had known he was going to do this, I would have brought the nicer camera along... Leave it to Phunk.

T-Shirt Weather in February

Finally, I've put some solid days in at Indian Creek. The weather was (more or less) beautiful, and the place was deserted. We were climbing in t-shirts in February, it was crazy. We also got snowed on a little bit, but you can't have it all. On Sunday, we were the only car at the Supercrack buttress parking lot. That was a little surreal.

We took advantage of the opportunity by getting lots of mileage in on handcracks to get back in shape for desert climbing. (Normally all the good handcracks have big crowds, but not this weekend...)

fortunately, we could get on whatever we wanted, because there was no one there. Unfortunately, I got a little too enthusiastic and kinda tore up my hands. Fortunately, it's snowing in the Wasatch, so it's time to go heal and ski some pow.

Life is pretty good.

Rest Day

Like any major change in lifestyle, it takes a while to adapt to life as a full-time climber. As my mind starts to unwind a little bit, it's surprising to see how twisted up it had become running the the rat race of the "real world."

Life can get pretty crazy. When I'm working full time, and trying to stay active as a climber or skier, I'm pretty much firing on all cylinders, all the time. As soon as I leave my desk, I'm usually off to the crag or the gym. Or I'm cutting hours of sleep to squeeze in a few laps in the backcountry before work. Weekends are even worse - How fast can we get to Zion? How many pitches can we do this weekend? Why can't these guys in front of us hurry up, don't they know we only have 19 hours before we have to be back at work?

And in the spare moments when I'm not working, or climbing, or driving to one or the other, those random moments of silence through the day, by comparison, seem empty. The silence seems louder than a car dealership commercial. So I fill it with TV, radio, iPod, computer, cell phone, anything. So long as it's not silence. If I'm not constantly stimulated and entertained, I'm bored.

Which bring me back to today. Today, I'm finally reaching a point where the silence is tolerable again. I took a hike in Arches. I made a few turkey sandwiches. I sat outside for a little while and watched Nick work on a home made bike trailer he's building. I can feel the shift starting to happen in my thinking.




Nick working on his project.





It's a rest day, and I'm finally able to start enjoying a little silence.

Back in Moab

After a few days skiing sicky powpow in the Wasatch (to give my shoulder adequate rest) I'm back on track with the climbing trip. We climbed outside Moab today up in Long Canyon, on the Dead Man's Buttress. The route pictured is a 5.10 called Program Director - it was 190 feet of mostly wide hands to fists. Ugh. Maybe now I can actually start getting back in shape for this kind of climbing.

The shoulder felt good though, so we're headed to Indian Creek tomorrow to really get this party started. Enough screwing around with bouldering and skiing. Let's get down to some real climbing.

I liked this little cactus, but it couldn't figure out how to like me back.

Goodbye, Del.

Today I noticed my food bin was getting pretty full. I took a few things out, and unearthed a few bits of food that probably haven't seen the light of day fr a while.

I think we probably all have one or two of these - some sturdy non-perishables that you don't really want to eat, but can't bring yourself to throw away. You know you're in trouble when you're actually taking them with you when you move. This was the case with a particular can of creamed corn, who I've named Del.

Del has been with me for quite a while, as you can see from the rust on his lid. I'm pretty sure I picked him up in the dented can outlet in Oakhurst, CA, in the beautiful summer of '04. He's been with me on road trips before, and when I set out on this one, it was good to know that Del was riding shotgun. You'll notice he's the Creamed variety, which I chose because I was hoping it would taste like the creamed corn that my mother makes for Thanksgiving.

But tonight, I decided it was time. We'd been together so long, and at a certain point, something's gotta give. Del looked confused when the can opener came out, but I think on a certain level, he understood. I sobbed as I ate, with creamed corn on my chin. The world is a slightly sadder place now that Del is no longer in it, but now there's one more creamy angel up in dented-can heaven.

Another shot of that Hueco Sunset

With all the time I'll be spending in these amazing places, I should probably learn how to take better pictures...

My 24 hour fling with Hueco Tanks

So I was hanging out in Moab about three days ago, looking at the weather forecast. It was calling for rain and snow for the next two days. Someone I know was headed down to Hueco Tanks in El Paso, TX (once hailed as America's Bouldering mecca) for the week, and the weather looked great there. Since my current residence has wheels, I fired it up and rolled down.

I was a little concerned, just because my rotator cuffs in my shoulders have been giving me problems for the past few weeks. And bouldering can be very rough on your body – it's a good thing to avoid if you're trying to heal, for argument's sake, a pair of rotator cuffs. But I'd been doing some exercises for them, and icing every night, plus I'd been bouldering in the gym and they felt strong. What could go wrong?

The drive wasn't bad - it really helps to be able to sleep wherever you want. The van is working out great so far, it's currently winning the Gear of The Trip award. (The Carharts are in close second.)

When I got down to Hueco, I checked into the Hueco Rock Ranch, which is just a few miles outside the park. That place is pretty sweet - they've got camping, and a building to hang out in with a shower, wireless internet, a fusball table, and some couches. It's the perfect spot to chill on a bad weather day. Outside they have another little building where everyone stores their food and does their cooking. Fantastic setup, wish I could have stayed longer...

The climbing access in Hueco is kinda weird - it used to be an open door policy, but back in 1998 they restricted it due to environmental impact. Of the four main climbing areas, only one remains open to the public. You can only climb in the other tree with a guide, who you hire for the day. So these days, in order to climb, you must either:

• Have reservations
• Be one of the first ten people in line in the morning to walk-in
• Take a commercial "guided tour" for $20
• Show up at noon, when they let in whoever's standing around, in place of anyone who had a reservation, but didn't show.

Confused yet? Yeah, me too. And of course the reservations were all booked through the end of the month. Basically the beta is this: show up at the gate in the morning. If that doesn't work, go back at noon. You'll probably get in.

Luckily, I got in on my first day. They made all us first-timers sit through a little orientation video, which talked about the environmental concerns in the area, as well as the acheological history. (Basically it was a popular spot in the desert back in the day, because water would gather in the big "Huecos" or pools in the rock, hence the name Hueco Tanks. ) After the video, they set us loose on the North Mountain area.

I met a guy named Corey in the orientation, so we headed out together. The park is a little confusing, cause there are boulders EVERYWHERE. Go figure. But we found some landmarks and managed to locate a good warm-up area. After a few problems, it became apparent that I am still not a very good boulderer. The grades at Hueco are stiff for sure, definitely not a place to go inflate your ego. I was feeling pretty challenged on the V2's.

The rock at Hueco is amazing. Everywhere you look, there are tons of problems. I probably climbed about 20 problems that first day, all of which I'd call good to excellent quality, and we didn't move more than 100 feet. It's unreal.

Most of my experience with bouldering has been a bit like this:

1. Thrash through the woods for half an hour looking for some killer boulder a buddy told me about
2. Give up on finding it
3. Find some other boulder with two crappy problems and one that looks alright
4. Realize I lost one of my shoes somewhere back in the scrub oak
5. Try the problem anyway with only one shoe
6. Cut myself on a sharp crimp and call it a day.

But things were to be different at Hueco. My day turned out more like this:

1. Find some pretty sick problems
2. Flail on some pretty sick problems three grades below where I thought I'd be cranking
3. Randomly run into a buddy from SLC
4. Try one last crimpy problem at the end of the day, and tweak the hell out of that rotator cuff in my shoulder.

Everything was going great until #4.

I limped back to the ranch to get an ice pack for my shoulder, and to go sulk in defeat. The sulking felt good, but the shoulder got worse. I braced to see just how bad it would get, and it looks like this is pretty much the worst I've ever tweaked it. It's my left shoulder, which is weird cause that one hasn't been a problem till now. I guess that's good news – my right shoulder must be healing nicely!

Since any more bouldering was absolutely out of the question, and there's nothing to do in El Paso besides boulder, I decided to leave. It was a fantastic 24 hour fling with Hueco Tanks, but it just wasn't meant to be. In my short time there I met some cool folks, and got some fun climbing in. And I have this swollen rotator cuff to remember it all by.

A Texas Sunset, as seen from the van.

So right now I'm back in Moab, taking a few days rest with lots of icing and ibuprofen. Hopefully that'll get my shoulder back in shape, and I'll be able to trad climb again, which was what I was supposed to be doing anyway.

Hueco sunset in the rearview.

The Crack House

First stop in Moab: The Crack House. This place is pretty wild - it's a cave/boulder in the middle of nowhere, which just happens to feature an 80' hand crack running across its roof. The whole climb, except the highball topout, is completly horizontal. I'm not sure if it was a good warmup, or a brutal awakening to the fact that my edurance has really suffered this winter. We had a good time playing around on it, but no one sent this time...

Finally On the Road

First stop: Moab, UT. The weather looks a little cloudy at the moment, but we'll see how it shapes up...

The One-Pair Challenge.

One time I was going out into the backcountry for a 23 day trek. Due to a little packing oversight, I only brought one pair of boxer shorts.

It was quite a trip.

This challenge is along the same lines, but hopefully won't give me a rash. I just bought a pair of Carhart Double Front Work Dungaree.

Most of the "climbing" pants I've ever owned should come in six packs, cause I go through them so quickly. The knees just can't take the abuse.


These pants have something of a cult following. I've never owned a pair, so I decided to see what all the hype was about. I'm going to put them to the ultimate test.

The One Pair Challenge: To wear one pair of Carharts, every day for the entire six month climbing trip, or till they bust.

If they survive, I'll be pretty impressed.

And don't worry, I will wash them regularly. Stay tuned for updates.

The Ride

In 2004, I lived out of a Saturn for about five months. It wasn't that cool. For this trip, I decided I needed to roll in a little more style. I needed a van.

After watching craigslist and the local classifieds for a few weeks, the perfect van popped up. I called the number, and no joke, this is the story the guy told me:

"Yeah alright, the van. So it's parked on a vacant lot in Sandy. But it's not exactly vacant, cause it's my brother's, well the lot is, and the van is too, and he's letting a guy live there and do autobody work cause he's got medical problems. So you gotta go there. And the last guy that went there, the guy on the lot said the van was his, and he should pay him for it if we wanted to buy it. But that's not true, so don't pay that guy nothin, just get the keys from him and go take a test drive."

I hung up.

A week later, an even more perfect posting came along. A 1995 Ford E250. I knew that this was to be my ride.

The deal was dissapointingly un-sketchy, and next thing I knew I was rolling around in my new home.

But there was lots of work to be done. First to go in was the bed platform. Then some shelving, an end table, floor mats, some storage bins, a few hooks, an inverter, lots of bungee cords, and a trip to Cabella's for some other redneck camping essentials: propane heater, camping table, big ol water jug.
Before and After photos, left and right.


This ride is now officially Pimped Out, and ready to live in for the next six months. I slept in it Saturday night, and the neighbors were only a little weirded out when I stepped out of it in the morning, yawning and stretching, as they were getting in the car headed to church. This is gonna be awesome.

This is seriously bitchin.

Super high-res photos of Yosemite. Check out the one of El Cap in the middle. It's almost like you're up there yourself. But less windy.

Tips for making the transition from 9-5er to Dirtbag

There are few ways you can more radically alter your lifestyle, possibly besides having a kid, or getting plastic surgery. But just like those two events, this transition can be a little rocky, confusing, but exhilarating all at the same time. Here are a few tips I’ve learned over the past few weeks:

Get a van. Living out of a car is possible, and I’ve done it before for a few months. But just because something is possible doesn't mean it’s a good idea. See: Human Powered Hydrofoil.

“Living out of my car” has a certain rustic, stoic appeal to it. People admire the sound of it. “Living in a van” does not. And don’t try to stop your friends from all doing their Chris Farley impressions, cause you can’t. Let that run its course.

The most psyched about your decision will be:

• Close Friends
• Other Climbers
• People who wish they had done the same thing at your age

The least psyched will probably be:

• Your Mother (you know your mother. she worries.)
• Anyone you’ve broken up with in the past few months (They’ll think it’s about them. Let em, everyone can use a little ego boost.)
• Anyone you’ve just met (They’ll think it’s about them. Sit them down and listen to Freebird together.)
• Your Redneck Neighbors (Hey you should put a shower in that thing, if you’re gonna have a real camper.)

Temporary Health insurance isn’t as expensive as you might think. There are plenty of plans out there, just google it.

Sell anything you can before leaving. The things you own own you back twice as hard.

Watch climbing videos to stay psyched. As soon as you decide to go, the days just can’t seem to go by fast enough.

Know that while some things about this trip will be great, and others will suck, you’re about to have one of the best experiences of your life.

That was Easy.

I decided to quit my job, and go live as a climbing bum for the better half of next year.

It was weird, because it was easy.

Now it's never really a good time to leave a job you enjoy, or a place where you're comfortable. Dropping what you know is always a little scary. In a lot of ways, I'm just getting settled in Salt Lake. I've been here two years, and that time has been fantastic.

But once I started getting things set up, everything fell into place in an eerily painless way. My boss sounded stoked for me to go travel. I'm not in a lease. Old travel friends I hadn't talked to in years suddenly got back in touch.

But why go, now? That's a tricky question, and to be honest, I'm not exactly sure. There are a bunch of obvious reasons, like “it'll be fun!” and “chicks love guys who live in vans, right?” But as far as deeper reasons go, real reasons... I'm still having a hard time figuring that one out. I guess it's part of the mission here.

1. Figure out what I need to figure out.

2. Figure that thing out.

Easy, right?