The day after seeing Dark Knight Rises at the midnight release I was feeling uber tired at work. After all I didn't get to sleep till 4:00 am. Late in the evening when I was leaving work and planning on sleeping I got a text informing me about $5 rock climbing night starting at 10:00. Of course I was down for that so we all drove down to Momentum Rock Climbing Gym attached to REI in Sandy, UT and were met by a long line out the door. I think it's the biggest indoor gym in Utah, and it seemed that $5 night was a popular tradition among many people. I could glance in the door and see countless towering walls waiting to be scrambled all over.
After a long wait in line and signing a few waiver forms I was given a rather odorous pair of climbing shoes and admitted to the gym. It was even bigger on the inside than I thought, with places for bouldering, top roping, and lead climbing, there was little to be desired. I was using my thin, unpadded harness which still did the job OK; it just made me miss my own rope, harness, and shoes.
The climbing extravaganza went until 2am after which my hands could barely grip any holds. The rocks were getting sweaty, and I was not only sleepy, but physically tired. I think I'll have to go back and attend this monthly event often.
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Friday, July 20, 2012
Canoes in Summer
A lot has happened since my last post. I have finished my first semester at LDS Business College. I have gone camping and hiking numerous times. I tried out with a wilderness therapy company for a week in escalante (which I'll have to post about), and I broke my Subaru, fixed it, broke it again, sold it, and bought a Montero. I can't wait to get my new SUV in tip top shape so i can do some off roading. This will be much more suited to the task with lots of skid plates, locking rear and center differentials, and true 4 wheel drive. I live that it has a massive sun roof, and 7 leather seats. More room for more friends.
On the trip that decided the fate of my Subaru I planned a canoe camping trip. I found a place that rents a trailer with 4 canoes on it for $50, but upon further investigation found it to be too far away. I still got the troops together and made arrangements to go camping with a couple canoes. I waited too long to reserve them, so the only place that had canoes was REI. (If you ever need canoes, don't hesitate to call them, they're really easy to work with). We loaded up all the gear, and drove down early in the morning. I finally had a chance to test out my new Yakima Roof Rack. We put one heavy canoe on my friend's Sentra, an I put the other on my roof rack next to the Diamond Back mountain bike that my younger brother graciously sent to me. The drive up to Pineview Reservoir was decently scenic. My car started to sputter over the mountains and I didn't know why.
Finally after getting turned around a bit we pulled in and set up camp. We had two tents, plenty of other random gear, and I put my hammock up in a tree. There was a lovely sandy beach to launch the canoes from. The wind was a bit of a hassle to paddle against, but the water was the perfect temperature, and the lake was actually a decent size, not some mere mill pond. I practiced portaging the canoes all on my own. I found out that the fiberglass canoes are way heavier than aluminum ones, and the wind has a way of twisting you exactly the way you don't want to go when you have a 16 foot boat over your head.
Some other friends showed up a little later, and we cooked a crazy amount of hot dogs over the fire. I felt proud of myself for starting the fire with nothing more than my flint sparker, some dry tinder, and a napkin....there may have been some WD40 in there somewhere, but no one needs to know. We went down to have another canoeing excursion. the wind died down a little bit, but in general the lake would have been a great place for sailing a small dinghy. I can't wait to get something like that. We paddled across to find a rope swing. I had a feeling that a certain area would have to have one. It just looked rope swingy. Lo and behold the rope swing was there, but it was destroyed and set for a much higher tide than we were then experiencing. We wandered around for a bit then headed back.
On the beach we played a bit of Frisbee, tag, and then just sat and talked. It was good to be in the college friend campout on the beach. It felt even better to have been the one that planned it. We all turned in for the night and I noticed that a hammock is a great invention for sleeping in. Although it was 96 degrees during the day, it got quite chilly during the night time. I was glad to have brought my sleeping bag, but I did notice that the hammock seemed to drain all the blood away from my feet making them very cold throughout the night. We all survived and are planning on going again sometime soon. I'll be sure to post in a better fashion in the future. It's good to be back.
On the trip that decided the fate of my Subaru I planned a canoe camping trip. I found a place that rents a trailer with 4 canoes on it for $50, but upon further investigation found it to be too far away. I still got the troops together and made arrangements to go camping with a couple canoes. I waited too long to reserve them, so the only place that had canoes was REI. (If you ever need canoes, don't hesitate to call them, they're really easy to work with). We loaded up all the gear, and drove down early in the morning. I finally had a chance to test out my new Yakima Roof Rack. We put one heavy canoe on my friend's Sentra, an I put the other on my roof rack next to the Diamond Back mountain bike that my younger brother graciously sent to me. The drive up to Pineview Reservoir was decently scenic. My car started to sputter over the mountains and I didn't know why.
Finally after getting turned around a bit we pulled in and set up camp. We had two tents, plenty of other random gear, and I put my hammock up in a tree. There was a lovely sandy beach to launch the canoes from. The wind was a bit of a hassle to paddle against, but the water was the perfect temperature, and the lake was actually a decent size, not some mere mill pond. I practiced portaging the canoes all on my own. I found out that the fiberglass canoes are way heavier than aluminum ones, and the wind has a way of twisting you exactly the way you don't want to go when you have a 16 foot boat over your head.
Some other friends showed up a little later, and we cooked a crazy amount of hot dogs over the fire. I felt proud of myself for starting the fire with nothing more than my flint sparker, some dry tinder, and a napkin....there may have been some WD40 in there somewhere, but no one needs to know. We went down to have another canoeing excursion. the wind died down a little bit, but in general the lake would have been a great place for sailing a small dinghy. I can't wait to get something like that. We paddled across to find a rope swing. I had a feeling that a certain area would have to have one. It just looked rope swingy. Lo and behold the rope swing was there, but it was destroyed and set for a much higher tide than we were then experiencing. We wandered around for a bit then headed back.
On the beach we played a bit of Frisbee, tag, and then just sat and talked. It was good to be in the college friend campout on the beach. It felt even better to have been the one that planned it. We all turned in for the night and I noticed that a hammock is a great invention for sleeping in. Although it was 96 degrees during the day, it got quite chilly during the night time. I was glad to have brought my sleeping bag, but I did notice that the hammock seemed to drain all the blood away from my feet making them very cold throughout the night. We all survived and are planning on going again sometime soon. I'll be sure to post in a better fashion in the future. It's good to be back.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Climbing
I always tend to have expensive hobbies. I bought myself all the gear I need for rock climbing. I've loved rock climbing for a long time, but I was too cheap to buy any of the equipment, so I was limited to bouldering or going to rock climbing gyms. Gyms can get expensive, but really help to perfect your technique, and build the strength you need to overcome certain obstacles.
At REI I bought a harness, belay device, chalk bag and caribiner for $100. Then I picked up a 10.2mm Dry-Rope (60 meters long) for about $140 That's roughly $120 more than I paid for the ghetto cheap rope from the hardware store, but I trust it a lot more. All in all the gear adds about ten pounds to my pack. I tested out the gear for the first time in Mill Creek Canyon. I've hiked this area twice now, and on my second hike I noticed that there were some anchor points placed at the top of a 70 foot cliff. It was scary to climb out there and balance myself precariously above a long fall to a painful death. I ran the rope through the anchor points and clipped into my harness. I really hoped that I had done everything right, and that the person who placed these anchors knew what he was doing.
As I stood there with one hand on the rock, and one hand on the rope, I knew that once I let go I would have to trust my life to this contraption around my waist. Every bit of my instinct was telling me not to do it, but I had to conquer my fear of heights sooner or later. I let go and gradually let the rope slip through my fingers. The friction created by the rope as it snaked through the belay device made it quite easy for me to control my descent; but I was wearing leather gloves just in case... rope burn is no joke. About halfway down I was suspended below an overhang and thus could not keep my feet planted on the wall. It was at this precise moment of dangling that the chains I was anchored to decided to shift ever so slightly. The anchors were still as solid as the rock the were drilled into, but my weight shifted the chain about an inch. That small movement, and the resulting pebbles that fell down caused me to have a small mid-air panic attack. I rappelled much more quickly at that point and was very grateful the moment I touched down safely. So far so good, now I had to do it again with a camera!
Life is no fun unless you can share it with others; and if there's no one with you, you at least have to take some pictures to preserve the memory. The second rappel wasn't as scary, but it is still nerve racking letting go to the one solid hold you have and trusting that all the man-made stuff will keep its end of the deal.
A couple weeks later I did end up getting a membership at the local bouldering gym The Front. It set me back about $80 for a month. It would have been cheaper if I was staying in the area for longer, but I figure I can climb out in the real world once it warms up a bit. I was told by the staff at the gym that I should check out IME (Intenational Mountain Expeditions) [I think that's what it stands for] for the non-corporate version of climbing gear. It's a small hole in the wall shop nestled in next to REI, and they had good advice for me, and a fair selection of shoes and other climbing equipment. I ended up purchasing a $35 harness there for anyone that would want to be my belay buddy, and I found a beat up 65 liter pack for $10 that I can use to haul my rope and gear up the mountain. I did end up going back to REI for my shoes. They were very helpful, and I was able to pick out a pair for $80. I tried on a few different ones, but in the end the cheapest ones felt the best on my foot. Usually you go down a size or more from your regular shoes to climbing shoes. This forces your toes to curl up, and transmits more of your body weight through your foot as one whole unit rather than a bunch of gangly fragile toes.
After assembling all of my gear I went with my girlfriend, Brooke, back up to Mill Creek Canyon to go climbing. She has a fear of heights as well, but for some reason trusted me that I knew what I was doing. All I can say is that I'm grateful for YouTube videos reminding me of the stuff I learned from the rock climbing gym in Arizona, and teaching me a few new things. Again I hiked up, set the rope and rappelled down. Then I showed Brooke how to get clipped into the belay device, and I tied myself to the rope. I did a few short runs just so she could practice stopping a fall, and letting me back down to the ground safely. Then I did a full run to the top. It was a bit scary tackling the overhangs. I was immensely grateful for the rope (although I didn't fall), and I was amazed at what a difference the shoes made in my climbing. I had only used climbing shoes in a gym, and I had only climbed outdoors with normal sneakers or boots. Using the climbing shoes outdoors turned me into a whole different climber.
Brooke took a turn heading up the wall. She got a little scared at parts, but handled it very well. I was impressed with her for being a first timer. I'm glad she trusted me, and we had a fun safe time out there. Now I just need to get some more climbing buddies so we can have people to take pictures, some to belay, some to climb. I'm also really looking forward to this summer when I can go canyoneering in Zion.
At REI I bought a harness, belay device, chalk bag and caribiner for $100. Then I picked up a 10.2mm Dry-Rope (60 meters long) for about $140 That's roughly $120 more than I paid for the ghetto cheap rope from the hardware store, but I trust it a lot more. All in all the gear adds about ten pounds to my pack. I tested out the gear for the first time in Mill Creek Canyon. I've hiked this area twice now, and on my second hike I noticed that there were some anchor points placed at the top of a 70 foot cliff. It was scary to climb out there and balance myself precariously above a long fall to a painful death. I ran the rope through the anchor points and clipped into my harness. I really hoped that I had done everything right, and that the person who placed these anchors knew what he was doing.
As I stood there with one hand on the rock, and one hand on the rope, I knew that once I let go I would have to trust my life to this contraption around my waist. Every bit of my instinct was telling me not to do it, but I had to conquer my fear of heights sooner or later. I let go and gradually let the rope slip through my fingers. The friction created by the rope as it snaked through the belay device made it quite easy for me to control my descent; but I was wearing leather gloves just in case... rope burn is no joke. About halfway down I was suspended below an overhang and thus could not keep my feet planted on the wall. It was at this precise moment of dangling that the chains I was anchored to decided to shift ever so slightly. The anchors were still as solid as the rock the were drilled into, but my weight shifted the chain about an inch. That small movement, and the resulting pebbles that fell down caused me to have a small mid-air panic attack. I rappelled much more quickly at that point and was very grateful the moment I touched down safely. So far so good, now I had to do it again with a camera!
Life is no fun unless you can share it with others; and if there's no one with you, you at least have to take some pictures to preserve the memory. The second rappel wasn't as scary, but it is still nerve racking letting go to the one solid hold you have and trusting that all the man-made stuff will keep its end of the deal.
A couple weeks later I did end up getting a membership at the local bouldering gym The Front. It set me back about $80 for a month. It would have been cheaper if I was staying in the area for longer, but I figure I can climb out in the real world once it warms up a bit. I was told by the staff at the gym that I should check out IME (Intenational Mountain Expeditions) [I think that's what it stands for] for the non-corporate version of climbing gear. It's a small hole in the wall shop nestled in next to REI, and they had good advice for me, and a fair selection of shoes and other climbing equipment. I ended up purchasing a $35 harness there for anyone that would want to be my belay buddy, and I found a beat up 65 liter pack for $10 that I can use to haul my rope and gear up the mountain. I did end up going back to REI for my shoes. They were very helpful, and I was able to pick out a pair for $80. I tried on a few different ones, but in the end the cheapest ones felt the best on my foot. Usually you go down a size or more from your regular shoes to climbing shoes. This forces your toes to curl up, and transmits more of your body weight through your foot as one whole unit rather than a bunch of gangly fragile toes.
After assembling all of my gear I went with my girlfriend, Brooke, back up to Mill Creek Canyon to go climbing. She has a fear of heights as well, but for some reason trusted me that I knew what I was doing. All I can say is that I'm grateful for YouTube videos reminding me of the stuff I learned from the rock climbing gym in Arizona, and teaching me a few new things. Again I hiked up, set the rope and rappelled down. Then I showed Brooke how to get clipped into the belay device, and I tied myself to the rope. I did a few short runs just so she could practice stopping a fall, and letting me back down to the ground safely. Then I did a full run to the top. It was a bit scary tackling the overhangs. I was immensely grateful for the rope (although I didn't fall), and I was amazed at what a difference the shoes made in my climbing. I had only used climbing shoes in a gym, and I had only climbed outdoors with normal sneakers or boots. Using the climbing shoes outdoors turned me into a whole different climber.
Brooke took a turn heading up the wall. She got a little scared at parts, but handled it very well. I was impressed with her for being a first timer. I'm glad she trusted me, and we had a fun safe time out there. Now I just need to get some more climbing buddies so we can have people to take pictures, some to belay, some to climb. I'm also really looking forward to this summer when I can go canyoneering in Zion.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Mt. Olympus
Friday morning I went to my economics class like I do every day, and right as I was getting into the last five minutes of class I goot a sudden jolt of excitement, or adrenaline because I knew I was going to do something fun that day.
I quickly ate some food, and rushed home. I packed up my old backpack that had been with me when I camped on an island in Arizona with my family. We had to swim to the island because it was too rocky for boats to get near....also we didn't have a boat. I had taken that backpack to England and Wales on my mission. Often I was annoyed that it was too big and bulky, but it served me well every time I had to bring home groceries on bike or foot. I have had many wonderful experiences with that backpack, and it was definitely on its last legs. After its orange and grey cloth was filled with some climbing rope, 4 bottles of water, some snow pants, and some trail mix, I plunked it down in the back of my Subaru, and headed off towards Mount Olympus.
Mount Olympus is one of the taller peaks in the nearby area. The summit is at 9,600 feet (2,000 feet higher than I've climbed before) and to get to it you have to traverse rough terrain, steep inclines, and deep snow over about a 3.5 miles trail (2 miles more than I've done on a climb since I moved to Utah). It loomed out of the distance like a giant, as I got closer to the trail head parking lot I couldn't even see the peak anymore because it was so far away. There was graffiti on the concrete slabs in the parking lot, and every parking space had piles of broken safety glass in it. Clearly car break-ins were not a rare occurance here. Luckily I had nothing of worth in my car except maybe my CDs, but who listens to CDs anymore anyway. I booted up my Garmin GPS, cinched up the straps on my aged backpack, took my ski poles in hand, and started off on the trek.
I was only a hundred yards up the trail when I realized that this was no baby trail for the weak hearted, it was steep, rocky, and difficult... Just the way I like it. Some kids were scrambling over the lowest boulder on the side of the trail; this too had gratuitous amounts of graffiti on it. There were some anchor points for rock climbing, and if I had had more time (and a belaying buddy) I would have been tempted to climb it, but I had to push on. It was already noon, and I anticipated a 7 hour hike. I really wanted to get back before night fall.
I have been watching a bit too much Man vs. Wild on YouTube, so one plan that crossed through my mind was to scale the mountain, then create a snow shelter on one of the protected faces of the mountain, sleep through the night in the wild, and then go exploring some more the following day. One problem with this was that I didn't have any gear with me. I suppose the whole point of survival expeditions is making it through with whatever you have with you at the time, but I was in no quest to get in over my head unnecessarily. I was confident that I would have been fine, and that I had sufficient skill to tackle the wilderness alone, but it would still have been nice to have at least a flint and steel along with me... or maybe a sleeping bag. Soon though I'll be out there for a 2 day trek; that should be an adventure.
I hiked up the trail and found a rather large boulder that looked like fun. Probably about 80 feet tall. I scaled it once taking the easy route, then did it again with my camera at the bottom to film my ascent. It was tougher than I though because I had my ruck sack offsetting my center of gravity, but I made it up in a few minutes. I think it would be fun to have a camera crew following me around like Bear Grylls, but so far I don't really do anything cool enough to justify filming. I just think it would be sweet.
The ski poles helped out a ton on the climb up. Often the shale under foot would break away, and as I got higher and higher up into the mountain the snow got deeper and deeper. Also I realized that once I'm above 6,000feet, every step feels increasingly heavier. Around 8,000 feet I kept sliding backwards as I tried to climb. I passed a foreigner who said he was the only one to make it to the summit in a while. I was getting frustrated by how easily I was losing my breath. There is much less oxygen at higher altitudes, an you lose about 3.5 degrees of temperature for every thousand feet that you climb. It was 38 degrees in the parking lot, and I had a 4,000 foot climb to the summit.
Soon I broke above the tree level, and I could see the other mountains in the range. It seems that no matter how high I climb, there is always another peak that is just slightly higher up, taunting me. The city was still close at hand, and I could see the whole valley splayed out beneath me. From my vantage point I could see the Great Salt Lake... I wonder how long it would take to swim across.
The last few hundred feet were nearly vertical. I had to be careful to place my feet in the packed snow prints left by the foreigner's crampons. The ski poles lost their value in the veertical terrain and I had to stox them along side my pack. It's much easier to do this with my hiking pack vs. my school pack. Still I'd like to get some proper gear. It depresses me to think about how much of my kit was purchased at Wal-Mart.
At the top the view was unforgettable. I could see for miles around. It slowly began to sink in just how much wilderness there really is back here. I'd love to get lost back in the mountains for a week and get away from the hustle and bustle of life.
It's a strange feeling when you get to the summit of sucha tall (to me) mountain. 9,600 feet above sea level. The last time I was up at this altitude, I was in a pressurized airplane cabin. Still it was all worth it for the view. It's hard to get up here and see all of this and not believe in God. All of creation just fills me with awe.
I found a mail box buried underneath some snow with peoples names and artifacts. One wrote a peom, one left a condom wrapper, on left an american flag, some left business cards. I wrote my name and date with the pen that was stached in the mail box, and began my descent. I suppose the view from teh top is definitely worth the effort of the climb, but for me, the challenge of the climb is in itself reason enough to take it on.
I quickly ate some food, and rushed home. I packed up my old backpack that had been with me when I camped on an island in Arizona with my family. We had to swim to the island because it was too rocky for boats to get near....also we didn't have a boat. I had taken that backpack to England and Wales on my mission. Often I was annoyed that it was too big and bulky, but it served me well every time I had to bring home groceries on bike or foot. I have had many wonderful experiences with that backpack, and it was definitely on its last legs. After its orange and grey cloth was filled with some climbing rope, 4 bottles of water, some snow pants, and some trail mix, I plunked it down in the back of my Subaru, and headed off towards Mount Olympus.
Mount Olympus is one of the taller peaks in the nearby area. The summit is at 9,600 feet (2,000 feet higher than I've climbed before) and to get to it you have to traverse rough terrain, steep inclines, and deep snow over about a 3.5 miles trail (2 miles more than I've done on a climb since I moved to Utah). It loomed out of the distance like a giant, as I got closer to the trail head parking lot I couldn't even see the peak anymore because it was so far away. There was graffiti on the concrete slabs in the parking lot, and every parking space had piles of broken safety glass in it. Clearly car break-ins were not a rare occurance here. Luckily I had nothing of worth in my car except maybe my CDs, but who listens to CDs anymore anyway. I booted up my Garmin GPS, cinched up the straps on my aged backpack, took my ski poles in hand, and started off on the trek.
I was only a hundred yards up the trail when I realized that this was no baby trail for the weak hearted, it was steep, rocky, and difficult... Just the way I like it. Some kids were scrambling over the lowest boulder on the side of the trail; this too had gratuitous amounts of graffiti on it. There were some anchor points for rock climbing, and if I had had more time (and a belaying buddy) I would have been tempted to climb it, but I had to push on. It was already noon, and I anticipated a 7 hour hike. I really wanted to get back before night fall.
I have been watching a bit too much Man vs. Wild on YouTube, so one plan that crossed through my mind was to scale the mountain, then create a snow shelter on one of the protected faces of the mountain, sleep through the night in the wild, and then go exploring some more the following day. One problem with this was that I didn't have any gear with me. I suppose the whole point of survival expeditions is making it through with whatever you have with you at the time, but I was in no quest to get in over my head unnecessarily. I was confident that I would have been fine, and that I had sufficient skill to tackle the wilderness alone, but it would still have been nice to have at least a flint and steel along with me... or maybe a sleeping bag. Soon though I'll be out there for a 2 day trek; that should be an adventure.
I hiked up the trail and found a rather large boulder that looked like fun. Probably about 80 feet tall. I scaled it once taking the easy route, then did it again with my camera at the bottom to film my ascent. It was tougher than I though because I had my ruck sack offsetting my center of gravity, but I made it up in a few minutes. I think it would be fun to have a camera crew following me around like Bear Grylls, but so far I don't really do anything cool enough to justify filming. I just think it would be sweet.
Soon I broke above the tree level, and I could see the other mountains in the range. It seems that no matter how high I climb, there is always another peak that is just slightly higher up, taunting me. The city was still close at hand, and I could see the whole valley splayed out beneath me. From my vantage point I could see the Great Salt Lake... I wonder how long it would take to swim across.
The last few hundred feet were nearly vertical. I had to be careful to place my feet in the packed snow prints left by the foreigner's crampons. The ski poles lost their value in the veertical terrain and I had to stox them along side my pack. It's much easier to do this with my hiking pack vs. my school pack. Still I'd like to get some proper gear. It depresses me to think about how much of my kit was purchased at Wal-Mart.
It's a strange feeling when you get to the summit of sucha tall (to me) mountain. 9,600 feet above sea level. The last time I was up at this altitude, I was in a pressurized airplane cabin. Still it was all worth it for the view. It's hard to get up here and see all of this and not believe in God. All of creation just fills me with awe.
I found a mail box buried underneath some snow with peoples names and artifacts. One wrote a peom, one left a condom wrapper, on left an american flag, some left business cards. I wrote my name and date with the pen that was stached in the mail box, and began my descent. I suppose the view from teh top is definitely worth the effort of the climb, but for me, the challenge of the climb is in itself reason enough to take it on.
To speed up my descent, and make it possible to get to the Subaru in time, I donned my snow pants, held my backpack in front and slid on my backside as far as I could. It was fun, but dangerous. I got up to speeds of 25 MPH on my slides, and I had to be careful to dodge the rocks hidden underneath the snow. If I got it right it would greatly speed up my progress and help me get home before sundown; get it wrong and I could end up with a broken tailbone, or worse.
At the end of the day I got back in just under a 6 hour round trip. I was dead tired, and rested most of the next day; but all I can think about is which climb I'm gonna do next.
Monday, January 16, 2012
The Front
The air was a thick haze like you used to see in a bar. The guy in front of me in line bought a good sized zip-loc bag filled with pure white powder. Was this some strange druggie hangout I had just walked in to? No, the haze in the air, and the contents of the bag were one and the same, climber's chalk. I found a nearby bouldering gym online. As it turns out it's located just behind the Wal-Mart that I went to for my school supplies. I bought a day pass to "The Front" which gave me access to the weight room, the tread mills, the yoga room, and of course the bouldering wall; all for $15.00. I did have to rent shoes for an additional $5.00, but I'd say it was money well spent.
The wall was about 15 feet high and a couple hundred feet long. There were enough people there to confirm that this wasn't some shady fly-by-night operation, but it was by no means overcrowded. there were no top-ropes like I was used to at the rock climbing gyms I had been to in Arizona, but those had 45 foot walls, and I preferred this. I didn't need anyone to belay me, and there were ample amounts of padding on the floor to save me even if I completely fell flat on my back.
It only took a few ascents for me to realize that I do not have the forearm strength required for this kind of climbing. there were only a few very small sections that were not inclined to some degree, and thus I needed to have a very strong grip to keep my body on the wall. On my first climb I got near the top and tried a dynamic move (where you swing to reach a handhold and aren't necessarily holding onto anything while you're moving) and scraped my arm. I had to keep caking chalk onto it to keep it from bleeding. I tried a few of the more difficult climbs, and kept going back again and again to the wall. Each attempt (even on the easy routes) took a huge toll on my wrists and forearms. After about an hour I couldn't support my own body weight from one hand, which made climbing nearly impossible. I guess I just need to keep going back frequently to strengthen my arms and get those muscle groups to wake up and get to work.
I had a blast though. There was a nice variety of people. A couple of kids (who must have barely started high school) were fairly proficient at kicking my butt on every route I tried. I guess I'm really not that good at climbing after all, but then again it has been more than a year since I've been to a climbing gym. There was also a cute toddler who was there climbing with his dad; he even had his own tiny chalk bag clipped to his belt. I wanna have one of those when I grow up (a kid who can climb that is).
I think I stayed at it for almost two hours,then determined that I had inhaled enough chalk dust and that my hands could no longer grip enough to make this fun. I'm looking forward to having more endurance so I can keep at it, and then I might be ready for some real climbs this summer in Moab, or Zion. But for now my hands won't do the simplest tasks I tell them to. Tying shoes, opening the car door, starting the car, and texting is all very challenging. Heck, I've been working at this pop-tart wrapper for five minutes now!
The wall was about 15 feet high and a couple hundred feet long. There were enough people there to confirm that this wasn't some shady fly-by-night operation, but it was by no means overcrowded. there were no top-ropes like I was used to at the rock climbing gyms I had been to in Arizona, but those had 45 foot walls, and I preferred this. I didn't need anyone to belay me, and there were ample amounts of padding on the floor to save me even if I completely fell flat on my back.
It only took a few ascents for me to realize that I do not have the forearm strength required for this kind of climbing. there were only a few very small sections that were not inclined to some degree, and thus I needed to have a very strong grip to keep my body on the wall. On my first climb I got near the top and tried a dynamic move (where you swing to reach a handhold and aren't necessarily holding onto anything while you're moving) and scraped my arm. I had to keep caking chalk onto it to keep it from bleeding. I tried a few of the more difficult climbs, and kept going back again and again to the wall. Each attempt (even on the easy routes) took a huge toll on my wrists and forearms. After about an hour I couldn't support my own body weight from one hand, which made climbing nearly impossible. I guess I just need to keep going back frequently to strengthen my arms and get those muscle groups to wake up and get to work.
I had a blast though. There was a nice variety of people. A couple of kids (who must have barely started high school) were fairly proficient at kicking my butt on every route I tried. I guess I'm really not that good at climbing after all, but then again it has been more than a year since I've been to a climbing gym. There was also a cute toddler who was there climbing with his dad; he even had his own tiny chalk bag clipped to his belt. I wanna have one of those when I grow up (a kid who can climb that is).
I think I stayed at it for almost two hours,then determined that I had inhaled enough chalk dust and that my hands could no longer grip enough to make this fun. I'm looking forward to having more endurance so I can keep at it, and then I might be ready for some real climbs this summer in Moab, or Zion. But for now my hands won't do the simplest tasks I tell them to. Tying shoes, opening the car door, starting the car, and texting is all very challenging. Heck, I've been working at this pop-tart wrapper for five minutes now!
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Why I love Salt Lake City
Although the drive out to Utah was uneventful, living here has been an amazing eye opener. I enjoy living so close to Temple Square. It is a sight that is sacred to me. In the short amount of time that I have been here I have already had many interesting experiences there. It's awesome to see so many happy families strolling by, so many brides and grooms getting their photos taken in front of the massive doors. One thing I have noticed about being in Utah is how many more young couples are actually married. It's a different world out here. Apart from the spiritual moments I have centered around these religious areas, I have also greatly enjoyed being back up in the mountains. I think I'll have to start a hiking club at school or something because, although it's nice to get out on your own, it would be nice to have some company when I'm out on a mountain face. On Friday I had nothing to do between my morning class and the dance that was to be held that evening. I sat on my computer for a couple hours killing time and looking at places I'd like to see soon. I began by searching for nearby hikes. They all looked kinda lame. So then I searched for a topographical map and narrowed down the three highest peaks within a half hour drive. I plotted one a map and decided I would drive over to see what the hiking might be like for another day. By the time I was don writing down the directions I had decided to bring my hiking boots in case I wanted to get out and take some pictures. Then as I went in the closet to get the boots I figured I might as well bring along my ski poles to help if I decided to go for a little walk. By the time I got down to my car I had loaded up with boots, poles, backpack, two water bottles, trail mix, camera, sunglasses, GPS, and about 180' of rope. Clearly I am not one to sit back and daydream about doing something for too long. Spontaneously doing something today trumps planning on doing it someday every time in my book.
My old Subaru Outback chugged along the freeway as I made my way closer and closer to the mountains. Off in the distance the Wasatch mountains are a formidable sight. As I drew nearer and nearer to them I began to realize how insanely tall 10,000 feet really was. It's when you get right at the base of the mountain that you think you can actually climb it because: 1. at least you're starting to climb. and 2. your perspective is so thrown off at that point that it doesn't look all that bad.
The entrance tot he park was a little town catering to the needs of skiers and snowboarders. Every signpost and store facade seemed to have some allusion to being on the slopes. I liked it. I stopped at a 7eleven to pick up some new batteries for my GPS. (I still say that is one of the best $95 I've ever spent). After driving up the twisty road for about 3 miles I pulled off to the side in a snow bank and geared up. I had wisely chosen to wear my old hand-me-down Columbia jacket instead of my new pea coat this time around; it was light, it was warm, and I didn't really care if it got torn up.
It only took a few yards of hiking for me to notice the benefit of bringing the ski poles. It only took a few more yards to realize that my body was still not used to a brisk walk with such little oxygen available. I climbed along the gently zig-zagging path which was clearly intended to be at least bicycle (if not wheelchair) accessible. Too tame, I thought to myself. I looked down the narrow and inviting pathway, and then looked directly to my right at the boulders ascending high overhead. That's the route for me. I first tried to tuck my ski poles in between my pack and my coat; then I attempted to insert them vertically between the strap and my spine. In the end I left them dangling from my wrists while I climbed over the first boulder. Since the poles kept getting snagged on cracks and branches I deduced that their benefit on this particular outing was outweighed by their hindrance. I left them on top of my first boulder and trusted to my GPS that I would be able to recover them after I was done gallivanting.
I scrambled up over the next few boulders only to find that the way up from that point was impeded by several scrubby looking shrubs and juniper trees that were grown too tightly together for me to pass without a machete. I surveyed my surroundings and found the cliff on the opposite end of a small valley to be much taller, more interesting, and inevitably more fun. As I traipsed along the edge of this ravine I took note of the slippery, sharp shale that lay all about in varying different hues. There were some large chunks that were light green, like rusted copper; the majority, however, was a deep purple color.
I made my way to the bottom of the canyon and began again my ascent. The entire cliff face was comprised of multiple layers, and leaning several degrees towards the south. It looked kind of like giant ice cream sandwiches someone had set up like dominoes that were slowly tumbling down. Often I would have to do some legitimate rock climbing to get up to a ledge where I could rest and reevaluate. When I though I was on the right rock I could climb all the way to the top I realized that I had to switch to another one and jumped across. It was a bit disconcerting when something I took to be a very solid rock broke off in my hand. I let it fall and it seemed to hang in midair until it was obliterated on the other rocks below. A lot of the climb was along the tilted face of the rocks and so I didn't really need to cling on for dear life, but I definitely couldn't have stood up and hiked. It was a job for all fours.
One time I got as high as I could on a certain face and had to switch to another. the gap in between the two was about 12 feet, more than I wanted to jump, and less than I could span with my body. I had to back track a little and go at it again. I've found that I like down climbing much less that up climbing. When you're going up you can forget how far you've come and you don't really notice that you're 300 feet off the ground; you can also see the hand holds ahead of you. When climbing down you have to feel around with your feet for a secure hold while your hands are getting more and more tired from supporting your body weight, and the weight of all that stupid trail mix you brought along. Side note: Steel toed boots do not make good climbing shoes. If ever I got nervous, or started to freeze up I had to remind myself to just keep moving. The longer you wait, the more tired you get, and the more psychologically strenuous your activity becomes. Besides, I was out there alone. The only clue I had left was a vague facebook post about climbing another mountain. I don't know if you know this or not,but there are a freaking lot of mountains in Utah. If I slipped, fell, broke something, got mauled by a mountain lion, or got lost, there was no one coming to get me; such is the cost and risk of going off the beaten path. -Don't worry Mom, I'm really just trying to make this sound cooler than it actually was-
I rested at the top of the final cliff and took some video. The first set of boulders I had climbed seemed so remote. I hadn't covered that much ground horizontally, but from my Subaru (that I could still see) to my perch atop these rock was about a 750 foot climb. The winding road I pulled off of to park was more below me than it was beside me. It's a strange phenomenon that's hard to describe, and feelings of vertigo can set in pretty quickly if you're not careful. The whole mountain is tipped one way, gravity is pulling you another way, and the road that you know to be level, flat, and smooth is laid out in front of you. I found myself leaning further back than was probably necessary just to avoid an unintended front flip.
After my short recess I continued to climb. Hiking is a lot tougher for me than rock climbing. After a few feet I already missed my ski poles. My lungs ached, and each step got exponentially harder than the one before. I finally got up to about 6,100 feet before the same scrubby brush that had stood in my way before showed up. I couldn't go any further up the mountain, and I surely didn't want to go back the way I had come. I decided to go down the nice sunny side of the mountain. It still involved a lot of down climbing, and some leaping from rock to rock, but all in all it went favorably. Near the end of my descent I came across a few boulders that were inclined too far for me to down climb in my current skill level,and too high for me to jump down. I realized that I hadn't yet tested out my rope. I looped it around a rock and began to slide down to the ground below. It was about a 15 foot descent onto uneven ground. I still didn't fully trust the rope. It was cheap stuff I had picked up at a hardware store back in Wisconsin. My brothers, my nephews, and I had been using it to practice rappelling down the tree in my mom's back yard. It was only rated to 135 pounds, and I weigh 30 more than that without the backpack. I doubled it up, and lamented the fact that I didn't have thicker gloves as I let the rope slide through my hands. So far so good. Once safely back on the ground I attempted to unloop the rope, but to no avail. It had gotten stuck good and tight. I tried a couple times to climb the difficult incline. I would get up about 8 feet then run out of good hand holds. I dropped back down a few times, then took a swing at it without all my gear. Still no luck. I realized that: 1. I'm really not that good at rock climbing, 2. Steel toed boots are really not good for rock climbing shoes, and 3. I was tired out from all the other climbing I had already done that day. I left my stuff and walked around to find a more favorable way up. Such a way was found only about 50 feet away; guess I didn't need to use the rope after all.
After getting back on the trail at the base of the mountain I used my trusty GPS to get me back to the ski poles. I hiked down to my Subaru, and collapsed into the front seat. All in all it was a pretty good hike, and I still had time to get home and shower before the dance that night.
My old Subaru Outback chugged along the freeway as I made my way closer and closer to the mountains. Off in the distance the Wasatch mountains are a formidable sight. As I drew nearer and nearer to them I began to realize how insanely tall 10,000 feet really was. It's when you get right at the base of the mountain that you think you can actually climb it because: 1. at least you're starting to climb. and 2. your perspective is so thrown off at that point that it doesn't look all that bad.
The entrance tot he park was a little town catering to the needs of skiers and snowboarders. Every signpost and store facade seemed to have some allusion to being on the slopes. I liked it. I stopped at a 7eleven to pick up some new batteries for my GPS. (I still say that is one of the best $95 I've ever spent). After driving up the twisty road for about 3 miles I pulled off to the side in a snow bank and geared up. I had wisely chosen to wear my old hand-me-down Columbia jacket instead of my new pea coat this time around; it was light, it was warm, and I didn't really care if it got torn up.
It only took a few yards of hiking for me to notice the benefit of bringing the ski poles. It only took a few more yards to realize that my body was still not used to a brisk walk with such little oxygen available. I climbed along the gently zig-zagging path which was clearly intended to be at least bicycle (if not wheelchair) accessible. Too tame, I thought to myself. I looked down the narrow and inviting pathway, and then looked directly to my right at the boulders ascending high overhead. That's the route for me. I first tried to tuck my ski poles in between my pack and my coat; then I attempted to insert them vertically between the strap and my spine. In the end I left them dangling from my wrists while I climbed over the first boulder. Since the poles kept getting snagged on cracks and branches I deduced that their benefit on this particular outing was outweighed by their hindrance. I left them on top of my first boulder and trusted to my GPS that I would be able to recover them after I was done gallivanting.
I scrambled up over the next few boulders only to find that the way up from that point was impeded by several scrubby looking shrubs and juniper trees that were grown too tightly together for me to pass without a machete. I surveyed my surroundings and found the cliff on the opposite end of a small valley to be much taller, more interesting, and inevitably more fun. As I traipsed along the edge of this ravine I took note of the slippery, sharp shale that lay all about in varying different hues. There were some large chunks that were light green, like rusted copper; the majority, however, was a deep purple color.
I made my way to the bottom of the canyon and began again my ascent. The entire cliff face was comprised of multiple layers, and leaning several degrees towards the south. It looked kind of like giant ice cream sandwiches someone had set up like dominoes that were slowly tumbling down. Often I would have to do some legitimate rock climbing to get up to a ledge where I could rest and reevaluate. When I though I was on the right rock I could climb all the way to the top I realized that I had to switch to another one and jumped across. It was a bit disconcerting when something I took to be a very solid rock broke off in my hand. I let it fall and it seemed to hang in midair until it was obliterated on the other rocks below. A lot of the climb was along the tilted face of the rocks and so I didn't really need to cling on for dear life, but I definitely couldn't have stood up and hiked. It was a job for all fours.
One time I got as high as I could on a certain face and had to switch to another. the gap in between the two was about 12 feet, more than I wanted to jump, and less than I could span with my body. I had to back track a little and go at it again. I've found that I like down climbing much less that up climbing. When you're going up you can forget how far you've come and you don't really notice that you're 300 feet off the ground; you can also see the hand holds ahead of you. When climbing down you have to feel around with your feet for a secure hold while your hands are getting more and more tired from supporting your body weight, and the weight of all that stupid trail mix you brought along. Side note: Steel toed boots do not make good climbing shoes. If ever I got nervous, or started to freeze up I had to remind myself to just keep moving. The longer you wait, the more tired you get, and the more psychologically strenuous your activity becomes. Besides, I was out there alone. The only clue I had left was a vague facebook post about climbing another mountain. I don't know if you know this or not,but there are a freaking lot of mountains in Utah. If I slipped, fell, broke something, got mauled by a mountain lion, or got lost, there was no one coming to get me; such is the cost and risk of going off the beaten path. -Don't worry Mom, I'm really just trying to make this sound cooler than it actually was-
I rested at the top of the final cliff and took some video. The first set of boulders I had climbed seemed so remote. I hadn't covered that much ground horizontally, but from my Subaru (that I could still see) to my perch atop these rock was about a 750 foot climb. The winding road I pulled off of to park was more below me than it was beside me. It's a strange phenomenon that's hard to describe, and feelings of vertigo can set in pretty quickly if you're not careful. The whole mountain is tipped one way, gravity is pulling you another way, and the road that you know to be level, flat, and smooth is laid out in front of you. I found myself leaning further back than was probably necessary just to avoid an unintended front flip.
After my short recess I continued to climb. Hiking is a lot tougher for me than rock climbing. After a few feet I already missed my ski poles. My lungs ached, and each step got exponentially harder than the one before. I finally got up to about 6,100 feet before the same scrubby brush that had stood in my way before showed up. I couldn't go any further up the mountain, and I surely didn't want to go back the way I had come. I decided to go down the nice sunny side of the mountain. It still involved a lot of down climbing, and some leaping from rock to rock, but all in all it went favorably. Near the end of my descent I came across a few boulders that were inclined too far for me to down climb in my current skill level,and too high for me to jump down. I realized that I hadn't yet tested out my rope. I looped it around a rock and began to slide down to the ground below. It was about a 15 foot descent onto uneven ground. I still didn't fully trust the rope. It was cheap stuff I had picked up at a hardware store back in Wisconsin. My brothers, my nephews, and I had been using it to practice rappelling down the tree in my mom's back yard. It was only rated to 135 pounds, and I weigh 30 more than that without the backpack. I doubled it up, and lamented the fact that I didn't have thicker gloves as I let the rope slide through my hands. So far so good. Once safely back on the ground I attempted to unloop the rope, but to no avail. It had gotten stuck good and tight. I tried a couple times to climb the difficult incline. I would get up about 8 feet then run out of good hand holds. I dropped back down a few times, then took a swing at it without all my gear. Still no luck. I realized that: 1. I'm really not that good at rock climbing, 2. Steel toed boots are really not good for rock climbing shoes, and 3. I was tired out from all the other climbing I had already done that day. I left my stuff and walked around to find a more favorable way up. Such a way was found only about 50 feet away; guess I didn't need to use the rope after all.
After getting back on the trail at the base of the mountain I used my trusty GPS to get me back to the ski poles. I hiked down to my Subaru, and collapsed into the front seat. All in all it was a pretty good hike, and I still had time to get home and shower before the dance that night.
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Salt Lake City
This is such a beautiful city. I live a block away from Temple Square which is amazing! I can look out my window and see a handful of historical church sites.
Today I wanted to get out and explore, so I got in my car to head to a nearby rock climbing gym, but almost as soon as I started driving I decided I'd rather go climb a mountain instead. I had no idea where I was going, but I figured I would just drive up the steepest roads I could find until I got to a trail head or something. I'm still surprised at how well my Subaru is holding up after 217,000 miles on it. True, I haven't had it for too long, but there's no denying they are great cars. There seem to be a lot more Subarus out west as well.
Anyway, I drove in circles for a bit until I saw a promising looking mountain. I pulled over in a rather affluent neighborhood and hopped out. As soon as I started scrambling up over the rocks I noticed how much thinner the air was, and how out of shape I was for such endeavors. After I had climbed up abut 300 feet I set my GPS and started my hike. I climbed up one ridge, and saw some cliffs off in the distance. It looked too far to get to, especially for how mad my lungs already were at me; it looked like a good goal though. We had just gotten a few inches of snow.
I felt like every vertical foot I climbed was harder than 20 feet going forward. Eventually I made my way around the mountains until I came to the cliffs. It was difficult with the wind whipping my face and my body not deciding if it was cold or hot. Often I would open up my jacket to cool down because of how hard it was to climb, but at other times I had to put my hood up and button up all the way to protect against the frigid mountain air.
As I got nearer to the cliffs I noticed that they were not just smooth sandstone, as I had supposed, but they were a strange pile of rocks of various sizes and colors all held together by a natural concrete. It was very dangerous climbing because every time I thought I had a good solid handhold or foothold it would break away and the stone would go tumbling hundreds of feet into the valley below. I tried to take pictures and get video, but they never seem to do it justice.
The trek back to the car was every bit as exhausting as my hike out. I did see a few deer hiding in the dogwood thickets. They would wait and stare at me until I attempted to get closer, then they would go bounding off. I was amazing how easy they made it look. Here I was sliding and scrambling not knowing what kind of surface was under the snow cover, and they could practically run down the mountain and think nothing of it.
All in all it was about a 3 mile hike with a vertical change of 1,066 feet.
I drove back into town and grabbed a Gyro from a local burger place. It's the closest version of a kebab I've had since I was in England. When I got out of my car I noticed that I had left my camera on the roof of the car for the whole ride home. I'm just glad I stuck it into the pile of snow on top; if it had slid off at any point I'm sure I would have never found it again.
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