Life Goes On

(Photo: X-Ray showing my broken ankle. Diagnosis: fracture- ankle, medial malleolus, closed.)

One year ago today, I broke my ankle rock climbing.

In part, I started this little blog in order to force myself to write about it. But I've been struggling with what to say about it for a year now, and I'm afraid that struggle isn't over.

My accidenthappened on a Gunks climb called Insuhlation (5.9). I fell justafter the final crux roof. I pulled over the roof with no problems, but there was a wet hold above the roof that I suppose I failed to use well. Or maybe my foot popped, I'm not sure. Truthfully, I don't know exactly why I fell. I had my right hand on the semi-jug above the wet hold. I was looking around for pro; my last piece was a green Alien a few feet below the roof. And then I was off.

I recall with vivid clarity the sensation of falling. Time suddenly slowed to a crawl, and I saw my half ropesin a parabolic arcabove me as I flew back outward from the rock. It seemed as if I had a good long time in midair to consider that this might not end well. I remember thinking "this is it!" ...but I'm not sure what I had "it" in mind to be. I yelled out "falling," and then things sped up considerably. I flipped upside-down and then the rope came tight on the green Alien, which held, and I came to a stop, hanging in the air with my head where my feet should have been.

As I righted myself, I realized I was injured. I couldn't understand why I'd flipped over. The rope wasn't behind my leg. And I hadn't felt a thing. There was no impact at all that I had sensed. So why was my ankle tender and starting to swell? I asked my partner N to lower me to the ledge. The pair climbing next to us onObstacle Delusion retrieved my gear on rappel and filledus in on what had happened. "You flipped over when your ankle hit the rock," one of them said. So it seemed there was an impact, but in the adrenaline-pumped moment I hadn't felt it. At least itall made sense now, even if the explanation didn't jibe with what my mind had allowed me to experience.

Thinking it was just a sprain, I hobbled the whole way from the High Exposure access trail back to the steel bridge, refusing numerous offers of assistance from concerned strangers. The best and the worst of the Trapps in autumn were on display. People were kind and supportive, but there were far too many of them. At one point I stopped to rest in the Uberfall area and counted over thirty climbers in my immediate field of vision, all of them looking at me in a pitying way that made me very uncomfortable. N thought we shouldsummon the rangers, but I insisted that if I could evacuate myselfwe shouldn't initiate a rescue. I now recognize that this was a stupidmistake. I really don't think it made my ankle any worse, but if I'd listened to N, we would have had the benefit of the advice of first responders, and I would likely have been taken to a hospital for an x-ray right away instead of waiting 24 hoursand only thenfinding out the ankle was broken and required surgery. It also would have put much less pressure on N, who ended up having the sole responsibility of babying me all the way back to Brooklyn.

In the aftermath of the accidentI was overwhelmed with guilty feelings. The source of these feelings was hard to pin down. I felt guilty about inconveniencing my wife.She'd have to pick up the kids every day and do all the cooking for months to come. I also felt guilty that I'd made whatever climbing mistake I must have made to get into this mess. I blamed myself for the accident, although I had a hard time deciding what it was I'd done wrong. I also felt a lot of guilt about imposing my injury on N. I entertained totally unfounded fears that she'd never climb with me again, and that all my other climbing partners might desert me as well.

Amidst all this I wondered if I really was feeling most guilty about climbing in the first place. Was I taking pains to find fault with my climbing on that fateful day because I needed to avoid confronting something harder to deal with? Was my accident really a reminderthat even if you do everything right when you climb, even if you place gear liberally and it holds, you can still get hurt? Was it a sign that I should quit,that climbing is unacceptably dangerous? Certainly a number of people, from my doctor to my mother to my wife's colleagues, assumed that my broken ankle would be thewake-up callI needed to make me come to my senses and stop this climbing nonsense, as any responsible husband and fatherwould.

I did not want to quit. Although I didn't know how I'd feel getting out there on the rock again, I was sure, as I sat around recovering and gaining twenty pounds, that I would missclimbing terribly if I stopped doing it. But I didn't want to be a bad husband and father. I had to ask myself if climbing could be done reasonably, or whetherthe dangers were such that no amount of rock climbingcould be consideredsane.

I read numerous classics of mountaineering literature searching for the answer, to no avail.Many great mountaineers have wrestled with the question of why we are drawn to climbing, and whether the dangers are worth it. Some embracethe risk, declaring danger to beat the verycore of the climbing experience. Othersfocus instead onthe many other wonderful aspects of the sport-- the scenery, the adventure, the physical and mental challenge, theconnectionwith nature-- but throw up their hands at the death toll and ultimately leave the question of whether it is all worthwhile to a higher power.

Of course, these writers are considering a different sport than the one in which I participate. They are writing about climbing real mountains and pushing the very limits of the possible. They choose to face objective hazards that cannot be managed, such as altitude sickness, avalanches, and sudden deadly changes in the weather. And in order toexpand the boundaries of what can be climbed, they deliberately go without reasonable protection on climbs that are incredibly risky,forging ahead on blank, smoothrock facesand through rotten bands of ice. These writers would think nothing of the climbing I do in the Gunks on a two hundred foot cliff that has been fully explored, with every route to the top exhaustively indexed by its difficulty and protection rating. To them the risks taken by a weekend warrior likemehardly qualify as risks at all.

And yet there are risks in any climbing environment, no matter how tame that environment is. In the Gunks, for instance, there have been very few fatalities over the years, but less than fatal accidents occurratherfrequently. Lapses in judgment lead climbers to forget crucial steps in the climbing process. Theyrappel off the ends of their ropes, or drop their partners. Objective hazards exist: rocks fall down. And no matter how much difficulty and protection grades may sanitize a climb, it is still easy to wander off route, to miss a crucial gear placement,or otherwiseto find oneself in territory where a fall could be disastrous. Gear that seems solid may pull out; it is hard even for experienced climbers to dependably judge placements of climbing gear. And finally, as my accident demonstrates, even if the gear is solid you can get hurt in any fall.

It is often pointed out by climbers that many sports carry dangers, and that climbing is actually less dangerous thancommon daily activities like driving a car. This may be true, but we are not forced to choose a dangerous sport in which to participate. We don't have to choose climbing just because it isn't as crazy as BASE jumping. We can shun all sports involving danger if it is the right thing to do. And while driving a car may wellbe more dangerous than climbing, we live in a world in which we can't escape the car. We have no choice about it. Climbing is different. It is a luxury we can well afford to drop.

But I couldn't bear to drop it.After my accident I was desperate to find a rationale for continuing to climb, a way to go forward but feel I was being reasonable and safe about it.

I wish I could tell you that I figured out the answer to this problem. I wish I could say thatI developed a calculus to determine how much danger is acceptable. I wish I could offer you a climbing plan that is 100 percent risk-free, or tell you that I located the perfect spot on the climbing danger continuum at which adventure is maximized but life-threatening hazards are minimized. But obviously I did none of these things.

Instead I decided to wade back into climbingslowly and to take it easy, minimizing risk by minimizing difficulty. Even this simple plan was a difficult one for me to execute, because I like to challenge myself. But aside from a few lapses I mostly stuck with it, avoiding leading harderclimbs all year, being willing to follow other folks' desires and ambitions more than my own, and repeating a bunch of favorite climbs instead of always seeking out new ones.

At first, I found that my accident had wreaked havoc with my lead head. I was tentative on the lead, becoming paralyzed at crux momentsI never would have worried about in the past. On more than one occasion this year I fell or took a hang because I simply couldn't commit to the move atthe crucial moment of a climb. The irony of this situation wasn't lost on me-- before the accident I pretty much never fell while climbing, but afterward, while trying to go easy and safe, I found myself falling or hanging on gear with some frequency. This seemed like madness, and made me wonder what the hell I was doing out there at all.

But I'm happy to report that over time my head improved (although not completely). I lost a good bit of the weight I gained and I alsotried through the year to become a better technical climber with a better awareness of balance and footwork than I had in the past. I see increased proficiency as a path towards feeling confident enough to progress back up the grades in the future. At some point this year I gave up on having any big climbing achievements in . It has been a rebuilding year.I haven't led a single pitch of trad 5.9 all year, and I'm fine with that. I recently followed a few, and they felt laughably easy. I take that as a good sign, and I plan to put that good feeling in my pocket for the winter, work really hard in the gym through the cold months, and emerge in the spring with confidence thatI can soon begin leadingharder climbsagain, breaking back into 5.9 and maybe even 5.10. And I hopethat whenI doso the climbs willfeel secure, and not beyond my limits.

So I have continued to climb, and life goes on. I can't assure anyone that I have made the right decision. But I can promise I'm more careful than I used to be, with the unfortunate side effect that I'm also more tentative. I am more willing to back off, and I will be much slower about working up the grades, more conscious of my limits. On the whole I believe I'm moving in the right direction. And that's the best balance I thinkI can achieve.

Foxton Locks along canal and back

somewhere around 5 miles. From Bridge 61 to 71 and back.

Tieton River Climbing ..

Julie injured her foot in Montreal. So mountain excursions were out of the question as should could barely walk at times. So, she was interested in some rock climbing. Due to her injury, and the suspect weather forecast for Leavenworth, we decided to see what Tieton was all about. The forecast for Tieton was to be 60° and mostly sunny. Since it is a two and a half hour drive, we left Seattle at 5am to maximize our climbing. This was unfortunate, as when we first arrived in the parking lot around 7:40am, it was still quite chilly.

We figured we'd warm up on the hike (about a quarter mile of trail - the second half uphill.) When we got to the base of the climbs, it was windy and in the shade. It felt even colder than the parking lot. We sized up our first climb, and neither of us were willing to start climbing due to the cold. Since we were the only ones there, we left our packs, and headed back to the car where the sun was shining. As we got to the car, a few other climbers showed up. We chatted, and decided to drive down the road to check out "The Bend," another area of Tieton climbing. (We were at Royal Columns.) After our short drive and a stop at the toilet, we headed back up to the crag.

Once there, we put on all the clothes we had, and started slowly to do our first climb. The first choice was the three star Western Front (5.3). We started easy to gauge how tough the climbing would be. Tieton has a reputation for having stiff grading, but we didn't really think so. I will say, that the climbing is fairly steep for the grade in concern to Western Front. I led the route, and found it very heady, as many of my gear placements were not ideal. The climbing is crack climbing between the andesite columns and the moves were pretty straightforward. However, I found gear placement to be difficult, and some of my gear to be suspect. Julie followed the route and saw the difficult placements. One of the issues I had with gear was that I neglected to bring up a #4 Camalot, because the guide book said gear to 2.5". This was regrettable, as there were multiple good locations for it along the route.

First cold lead of day

After completing the route, I ran down near the car (and sun) to warm up a bit. I returned as the sun started lighting the tops of the columns where Julie had waited for me. It was somewhat warmer now, but still chilly. But the sun was starting to heat the columns, and it was around 11am.

Julie led out on the next route, The Rap Route (5.5). It was a short stem/chimney, that became a crack above a short column. The route did not feel any harder than Western Front, but seemed to have easier gear placements. After I followed, and we rapped from the top, we contemplated our next move.

Now that the sun was out we decided to eat lunch and relax on some rocks at the base of the columns to warm up a bit. We briefly sought out our next objective, but returned to the rock when we realized how windy it was just around the corner from our lounging spot. After more relaxing, we finally got up to do our next route.

It was my lead, and I chose Good Timer (5.4) because the small roof on Slacker (5.4) scared me off a bit. (That and Slacker was more in the shade and seemed to be windier.) Good Timer had some loose rock on it, and again was somewhat difficult to protect. The climbing was fine, but nothing remarkable. After I led it, Julie cleaned it and we contemplated our next move.

We found a route on the far left that looked interesting to us. Julie asked if I would lead it, and so I gave in. It wasn't in our guide book, so we weren't sure of the grade at the time I started up. The route seemed to be a lower angle than our previous routes, except for the last 6-8'. About a third of the way up it had a small crack which was too small for my fingers except at the very top of it. I worked my way around it to the right and made my way up the rest of the pitch. I found this route to be the most enjoyable climbing of the four we did. Perhaps it was because it took gear better and I felt better protected because of it? Perhaps it was just the route? After we climbed it, we borrowed another climber's guide book in the parking lot and found out the route was a 5.7. ("The finger crack" which I bypassed probably gave it that rating.)

After that, we left for home.

My take on Tieton is that the rock is slightly better than at Vantage, but still quite dubious. The climbing is fairly interesting and enjoyable if you can look past this issue. However, it is difficult, especially when leading to get over this. After Julie followed Good Timer, she told me she thought the whole column was going to fall. I found myself more concentrated at times on the pro and its ability to protect a fall, than on the climbing itself. The terrain is somewhat different than Vantage as well, as it is a greener part of Central Washington. I'll probably return to Tieton at some point, but not likely soon.

A few more pics located here.

Mountains

Would have liked to go to the mountains on this 3 day weekend, but I know they are always packed on the first holiday of the summer. Besides we can't afford the gas, and neither of us is feeling that good to take that long of a drive. So guess we will just hang out here at the house. Pet the dogs, cats, and horses, and watch the car races. I did give Sonny a bath this morning. The horses were attached yesterday by some sort of horrid bitting, bloodsucking nat (gnat). Each one I killed was full of blood. So I made a stronger fly spray and sprayed them good yesterday and today and got out the fly masks. I had bathed Nita and Star a few weeks ago but hadn't done Sonny yet this spring. He really likes his bath and to be pampered with grooming. Now to teach the ponies, Trave and Stormy that they can like it, too.

Albuquerque International Balloon Fiesta

Today was the last day of the balloon fiesta this year. I didn't get to see any balloons up close except for the one in the following post. These photos were taken about 8am.























































Darth Vader in the center















Wells Fargo Stagecoach

















And they were gone.

The Jackson Visitor Center finally closes its doors

Without too much fanfare, the Jackson Visitor Center closed its doors to the public today, September 28th, . The NPS is replacing the facility with a new Jackson Visitor Center, scheduled to open (with much fanfare) on October 10th.

For curiosity and fun, I hung out near the main doorway as the final visitors exited and walked away. Over the past two weeks, a public reader board noted today’s significance by counting down the days. Next to it was a hand drawn picture of the space saucer shaped visitor center blasting off into orbit above Mount Rainier. As the front doors were finally locked, you could see rangers and concession employees giggling and smiling inside.
Before the doors closed, I spoke with about one dozen visitors. Interestingly, most didn’t know before arriving in the park that today was the Jackson Visitor Center’s “last day.” Those who did primarily lamented the loss of the 360 degree view from the observation deck, and why wouldn’t they? Today was perfect and the sun was showing off as it slowly slipped behind the mountains and down the Nisqually Valley. The day had been clear and surprisingly warm for late September.


A small crowd cheered as the family (above and left) was informally proclaimed “the last visitors to the JVC.” By the way, there is nothing official about this distinction. It’s just that the doors were promptly locked behind them as they left. Turns out, they were from Puyallup and cruised up in a restored 1969 Cougar to say goodbye. Here is TNT reporter Jeff Mayor talking with them. Note the smiles.

Anyway, now we're just wondering: what sort of welcoming will the new JVC get? More after October 10th.

Route updates and more incidents

There are a number of climbing conditions updates now that the mountaineering rangers are regularly patrolling the standard routes. The Gibraltar Ledges, Emmons, DC, and Kautz were all climbed last week and we still welcome your reports if you're out and about...

This weekend went by without a mountaineering "accident," but their were "incidents." The first one involved three climbers who separated while descending from high camp on the Kautz Glacier. Two climbers (the faster pair) took off hoping to wait (relax) in the parking lot for their buddy. Can you guess what happened next? After spending much of the day wondering where their "teammate" was, the climbers finally contacted the NPS hoping to initiate a search. Sparing you the details, the third climber eventually showed up on his own many hours later. During which, his buddies were sent out to retrace their descent. Free advice: if you set out as a team, stick together. This is especially the case on descents that involve glacier crossings and cloudy/whiteout type weather.

And once again, we had another team use a cell phone to call their emergency contact and 911 for information and directions. Thankfully, the climbers worked out the issue before the NPS had to dispatch a climbing ranger team. Really, be prepared to sit out bad weather (which is common) on Mount Rainier, or become fodder for this blog. ;)

And speaking of cell phones, I've been getting a few questions about the "preferred" cell phone provider on the mountain. Truth is, I don't know. I think that each service does better in some places and elevations than others. That said, I'd be curious to get your comments on where your cell phone has worked and where it didn't (we know they work well on Liberty Ridge BTW). If you've used one while climbing (it can be fun to call a friend while on the mountain) send me your comments so that they can be shared with other climbers.

The last and most significant mountain "related" news involves a search for a missing day-hiker on Eagle Peak. A 47 year old man didn't return from his hike last Saturday. I suspect that there will be more information released on this issue if things don't get resolved soon, stay tuned.

And if you're wondering, the opening photo is from the now famous Camp Schurman toilet seat. Dmitry Shapovalov's wanted to share the view with all of you. But if you head up there today, don't expect to see this unless you leave the NEW door open! Let's hope that this one makes it through the summer.

Banana Background

An Abyssinian banana (Ensete ventricosum) leaf.

Petzl Reverso III and the Black Diamond ATC-Guide

I am a big fan of the auto-block belay devices. The Petzl Reverso III and the Black Diamond ATC-Guide are the two I have used a lot.



I have bought my own Reverso IIIs and older Reversos before that. And bought as well as been given the newestBlack Diamond ATC-Guide. It is not unusual for me to give skinny rope belay devices to my partners. Not everyone climbs on or likes 7.7 twin ropes. Since they are belaying me,I think giving away a high quality belay device it is a good investment. Generally I have given awayATC Guides because, I have beengiven several in turn, andthe Petzl is more expensive and harder to find.



Hard climbs and skinny ropes in the future? I'll make a point to loan mypartner a Petzl Reverso III ;-)



Rapping the Pencil or the Midi bridge makes you a believer.











I generally use either a a 9.1 Beal Jokeras a single rope or a set of 7.7mm Beal Ice Twins. So a belay device that will work in auto-block mode, rapping and regular belay mode with thin ropes is important to me. For my use on the thinner ropes I think the Reverso works better than the ACT Guide when belaying off the anchor.



The direction of the clip in point is different. I find the Perzl much more user friendly. Bd's version clip in point is at right anglesto the Petzl.



If you are using a rope fatter than a 10mm get the ATC guide. The Reverso gets sticky in auto mode as the ropes get bigger. 10mm seem to be the auto block limit on the Reverso III.



Neither company'sbelay device is very durable. If they actually anodize the aluminum it has to be the worse anodizing job in the world. As both companies belay devices wear quickly on the surface. So toss up there. Also don't buy the silver colored (clear anodizing) versions. The directions (if you ever need them) on the belay device disappear within days of first using the clear version.



Other belay device reviews that are worth a moment to read and a lot more comparisons on Supertopo gear reviews. More rock gear reviewed therethan I will ever see, let alone use. FWIW they are reviews I trust to be accurate.



http://www.supertopo.com/review/Black-Diamond-ATC-Guide



http://www.supertopo.com/review/Petzl-Reverso-3



weights of the newest version by both companies



Petzl Reverso III weighs in at 76g.

BD ATC Guide (new version) weights in at 90g.





Reverso3 - the ultimate belay/rappel device for... by Petzl-crew





REVERSO - How to belay & rappel by Petzl-crew

Racing, Spectating and the Human Factor

Two summers ago in Vienna I was fortunate to meet retired professional bicycle racer Kurt Schneider. Now in his 80s, he remains active on the Austrian racing scene in a supporting role, a local personality. A mutual friend introduced us, arranging to meet at Kurt's favourite tavern in the outskirts of the city. I expected it to be a reserved, formal encounter. I arrived to find a relaxed and stunningly energetic man laughing with the waitress, drinking wine, wearing a yellow Livestrong bracelet. We talked about his racing career and his thoughts on various topics, and it was utterly engaging. But even more than the content of that conversation I remember the ever-present twinkle in his eye, the overwhelming charm he exuded. By the end of the evening I was practically sitting on his lap. It was unbelievable. For me it is people like this who make the sport come alive.




As a spectator, my interest in bicycle racing is oddly selective. I notice for instance that I am more drawn to the local racing scene than to the international pro stuff. The more real the person is to me, the more meaning their racing efforts hold. I am in awe of some of the amateur racers I've met in the Boston area. Their physique, their demeanor, their very presence make me "feel" the sport, and I get genuinely excited about it. I love to watch them, and I follow their results with interest. And yet I do not find it terribly exciting to watch professional racing on television. I don't know what it is, but today's big names seem like sterile corporate identities to me. I sense no fire or magical charisma in their personas. I cannot get myself to care about their results or their doping scandals. Maybe it is a matter of not having met them in person. Maybe I am just not into the sport enough to understand. And maybe professional racing is just different now than it was in Kurt Schneider's time. As a spectator, I want more of the human factor, the charisma, the twinkle in the eye.

Ahhh!

Rialto Beach, Olympic National Park, WashingtonSeptember 10, ..