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.

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.

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.