Maybe I'm the Jonah
If it's not LJ & the Russians, it's my computer not being able to handle 2 browsers AND McAfee dagnabbit. If I weren't leaving town Thurs night, I'd've bought a new computer already.
Fri was my manager's last day at work for 18 days1, so things were frantic, even without my leaving an hour early. I left a half hour later than I wanted, which was a half hour later than Evil English recommended - but luckily I found an empty cab that just came back to duty and traffic was only moderate. I couldn't believe how uncrowded the airport was and how fast I got through security: where were all the weekend travelers? It's like a chunk of NYC/the Northeast just went away - I assume they're not all on extended vacations bc the market is so bad. I guess we'll see in the fall.
GMac is a very silly man and when I got to the room, I found he'd turned down my bed and left 2 mini bottles of Makers, a cookie, and Cosmo on my pillow in an artistic arrangement I'm sorry I didn't photograph. Even after a 1.5 hour drive up, he still wanted to chat and I have a lot of climbing stuff on my mind, so we did. He's pretty amazing: when I jokingly said I couldn't go to grad school bc Chicago doesn't have good climbing, he started rattling off all the local crags. Or when I bitched about the Bozeman Ice Festival being so early in the month, he commented they get their ice early, but their ice climbing crag gets snowed in and then you have to cross country ski to it. He'd been scouting our route for the past two days and since it's supposed to be the best alpine climb in the Northeast, he assumed if we couldn't get an alpine start, he decided we should take it easy the next morning and plan to be after the crowd had died down. Which is of course why we got to Whitney Gilman and found no one signed in.
The approach was supposed to take an hour, but he turned off too early and we had to bushwhack through stands of pine in the middle of the boulder field. I don't understand why my IT band started hurting so much more: my pack felt heavier, even though last week I'd been carrying two ropes. Yes, I was carrying all our food and water, but bc it was an alpine climb, I wasn't carrying a large bag of snacks and water for two of us on an alpine climb was 0.5L more than what I take to the Gunks. Perhaps it was the terrain: climbing at the Gunks involves 2 flights of stairs and a walk along a carriage road, whereas this was hopping from rock to rock. By the time we got to the base of the climb, I had bleeding scrapes on both shins and sap all over my hands from trying to take my heavy, unusually wide frame around/through pines that were on the only level area nearby. Ever since Grand Teton - not to mention the Red Rocks epic - I've been nervous about alpine climbs and I was afraid that this would happen. GMac has two decades of mountaineering experience, mostly in the Cascades, and has never hiked with me; he's also the best climbing buddy I have right now, so I particularly didn't want to disappoint him.
The real problem with Whitney Gilman is that it's what climbers call committing: if you decide you don't want to climb the 800' climb anymore, say bc it's raining and has become unsafe to make the crux, which is the last pitch, you can't just sling a tree/rock to rappel down. There's also no fixed protection: to safely rappel, you have to build a safe anchor (3 points please) from $60-90 cams and nuts. With a 200' rope (meaning 100'/rappel), it gets expensive. Apparently when we were off route in the boulder field, GMac had considered going to our second choice, an easier, less committing climb to our right, but decided he wanted me to bag the classic, he said with a kiss to my forehead. ARGH. Bc when we got to the base of Whitney Gilman, he decided he didn't like the looks of the weather - we'd hiked in under a hot sun, but when we got there, there were grey clouds and a single raindrop fell on his head. He said less (but still a little) about being worried that it took us 1.5 hours to get to the base; frankly, I think he was also worried about making the 5.7 crux at the very end of the climb, as he hasn't been out climbing as much as he wants. Anyhow, we ate our PB&J on a rock and then started walking down.
Alpine descents are the worst part of climbing, imho, even on the best of days and I'm still having trouble with my knee + ankle, so he had to wait for me often. Finally he offered to take the rope. In the club, the rule is, the leaders takes the rack, the seconds take the rope. However, weighting him and lightening me might make the walk out more copacetic, so I reluctantly ceded the rope. The pace got better and I was about to ask him how his ankle was doing - he'd twisted it a month ago in his AMGA single pitch instructor course, but seemed fully recovered - when with a yell, he was on his back on the ground. When I asked if he was all right, he said no, but he's always sarcastic... When I got to him, I was horrified to see his leg sandwiched between a rock and a stump, but apparently the offending boulder was the one he'd been standing on, which tumbled down the hill. He immediately popped four Motrin, I took the rope (and all his draws, so maybe a quarter of the rack), and he stumbled down the hill.
It's weird to me how the dynamic change, how my body responded. I'd been having a lot of trouble when we started down: my legs started shaking from the strain of balancing the unwieldy weight and I was unwilling to move without 3 points of contact. It was better after GMac took the rope, but I was still shaky. Alpine climbing is always serious, but now that I was the strongest member of the team, I had no trouble coming down the route with a heavier weight. To cheer me up, he'd been telling me about how the chair of our club isn't a very good hiker herself, even though she regularly punts climbing to hike. Now I was the one making little jokes to keep his spirit up. I posted a picture on FB of his ankle when we got to the parking lot again, bc I've been twisting my ankle for 27 years and I've never seen such big lump in my life. On the other hand, he says that's the most epic thing that's ever happened to him on a climb.2
We went for a swim in the lake next to the parking lot. I thought it was freezing, but then, I think 79F is cold. We drove back to the room for showers and an Ace bandage. He iced his foot and we chatted with our Harley driving neighbors at the Econolodge. Dinner was mediocre steaks slathered in blue cheese at Gordie's and then we hopped in the jacuzzi before bed.
When I woke up, I asked GMac, "What time were we getting up again?" "Half an hour ago, but it's been raining since 4:30." He'd suggested we could go cragging - he could at least belay me, he kept saying.34 Climbing in the rain sucks though. I think it says something about what a sweetheart he is that he was so worried that I'd had a bad time that he was willing to sit around belaying me and giving me beta, whereas I felt terrible that my weakness meant he'd been injured and was now unable to climb for who knows how long.5 Instead we went shopping, wherein GMac discovered I lose all track of time when contemplating gear. Despite the impressive array of winter layers on sale, I only bought 4 things: a pair of climbing pants, so I'll have something to wear to the gym; Daisy Duke running shorts; a random but fuschia and v-neck short sleeve technical shirt; and exercise skorts. GMac was very excited about the Daisy Dukes - I don't know when I'll wear them since some of my running shirts are longer than those shorts and I don't have that many running buddies with whom I want to look slutty - and very dubious about the running skorts, but since I returned that pair too-long-ago-to-find-the-link, I figured this time I'll just buy them somewhere I can't return them. We stopped at the NH state liquor store, as one does, and I fretted about which bourbon to buy. I eventually bought the Jefferson's Reserve, bc I'd never seen it before.
It was GMac's right ankle that was injured, so I drove 2/3rds of the way home. We hit moderate traffic, which seemed to upset him a lot, even though we hit the road just before noon. I did okay, with only one exclamation from him and a few grumbles when I'd ask him if I could switch lanes. He found it amusing to read to me from Cosmo as I drove; eventually I asked him a random question about his career, which led him to tell me about working for NASA in the early eighties, radio hijinks with the Russians in Sudan, and testifying in a patent litigation case. Maybe it's that this was my fourth weekend in a row to climb or maybe it's just bc he's had an interesting life, but I'd call this a pretty decent weekend.
__________________
1As I write this, it dawns on me that it's perhaps not as absurd as one might think for me to go climbing in Indonesia for 3 weeks next August. Well, except for the rest of this post.
2Hence the title of this post.
3Hence the comment on the picture on FB.
4I really want to try Clipadee-do-dah-day, a 5.3 sport climb at Rumney sometime, after his description.
5Maybe it's a Texas thing.
Fri was my manager's last day at work for 18 days1, so things were frantic, even without my leaving an hour early. I left a half hour later than I wanted, which was a half hour later than Evil English recommended - but luckily I found an empty cab that just came back to duty and traffic was only moderate. I couldn't believe how uncrowded the airport was and how fast I got through security: where were all the weekend travelers? It's like a chunk of NYC/the Northeast just went away - I assume they're not all on extended vacations bc the market is so bad. I guess we'll see in the fall.
GMac is a very silly man and when I got to the room, I found he'd turned down my bed and left 2 mini bottles of Makers, a cookie, and Cosmo on my pillow in an artistic arrangement I'm sorry I didn't photograph. Even after a 1.5 hour drive up, he still wanted to chat and I have a lot of climbing stuff on my mind, so we did. He's pretty amazing: when I jokingly said I couldn't go to grad school bc Chicago doesn't have good climbing, he started rattling off all the local crags. Or when I bitched about the Bozeman Ice Festival being so early in the month, he commented they get their ice early, but their ice climbing crag gets snowed in and then you have to cross country ski to it. He'd been scouting our route for the past two days and since it's supposed to be the best alpine climb in the Northeast, he assumed if we couldn't get an alpine start, he decided we should take it easy the next morning and plan to be after the crowd had died down. Which is of course why we got to Whitney Gilman and found no one signed in.
The approach was supposed to take an hour, but he turned off too early and we had to bushwhack through stands of pine in the middle of the boulder field. I don't understand why my IT band started hurting so much more: my pack felt heavier, even though last week I'd been carrying two ropes. Yes, I was carrying all our food and water, but bc it was an alpine climb, I wasn't carrying a large bag of snacks and water for two of us on an alpine climb was 0.5L more than what I take to the Gunks. Perhaps it was the terrain: climbing at the Gunks involves 2 flights of stairs and a walk along a carriage road, whereas this was hopping from rock to rock. By the time we got to the base of the climb, I had bleeding scrapes on both shins and sap all over my hands from trying to take my heavy, unusually wide frame around/through pines that were on the only level area nearby. Ever since Grand Teton - not to mention the Red Rocks epic - I've been nervous about alpine climbs and I was afraid that this would happen. GMac has two decades of mountaineering experience, mostly in the Cascades, and has never hiked with me; he's also the best climbing buddy I have right now, so I particularly didn't want to disappoint him.
The real problem with Whitney Gilman is that it's what climbers call committing: if you decide you don't want to climb the 800' climb anymore, say bc it's raining and has become unsafe to make the crux, which is the last pitch, you can't just sling a tree/rock to rappel down. There's also no fixed protection: to safely rappel, you have to build a safe anchor (3 points please) from $60-90 cams and nuts. With a 200' rope (meaning 100'/rappel), it gets expensive. Apparently when we were off route in the boulder field, GMac had considered going to our second choice, an easier, less committing climb to our right, but decided he wanted me to bag the classic, he said with a kiss to my forehead. ARGH. Bc when we got to the base of Whitney Gilman, he decided he didn't like the looks of the weather - we'd hiked in under a hot sun, but when we got there, there were grey clouds and a single raindrop fell on his head. He said less (but still a little) about being worried that it took us 1.5 hours to get to the base; frankly, I think he was also worried about making the 5.7 crux at the very end of the climb, as he hasn't been out climbing as much as he wants. Anyhow, we ate our PB&J on a rock and then started walking down.
Alpine descents are the worst part of climbing, imho, even on the best of days and I'm still having trouble with my knee + ankle, so he had to wait for me often. Finally he offered to take the rope. In the club, the rule is, the leaders takes the rack, the seconds take the rope. However, weighting him and lightening me might make the walk out more copacetic, so I reluctantly ceded the rope. The pace got better and I was about to ask him how his ankle was doing - he'd twisted it a month ago in his AMGA single pitch instructor course, but seemed fully recovered - when with a yell, he was on his back on the ground. When I asked if he was all right, he said no, but he's always sarcastic... When I got to him, I was horrified to see his leg sandwiched between a rock and a stump, but apparently the offending boulder was the one he'd been standing on, which tumbled down the hill. He immediately popped four Motrin, I took the rope (and all his draws, so maybe a quarter of the rack), and he stumbled down the hill.
It's weird to me how the dynamic change, how my body responded. I'd been having a lot of trouble when we started down: my legs started shaking from the strain of balancing the unwieldy weight and I was unwilling to move without 3 points of contact. It was better after GMac took the rope, but I was still shaky. Alpine climbing is always serious, but now that I was the strongest member of the team, I had no trouble coming down the route with a heavier weight. To cheer me up, he'd been telling me about how the chair of our club isn't a very good hiker herself, even though she regularly punts climbing to hike. Now I was the one making little jokes to keep his spirit up. I posted a picture on FB of his ankle when we got to the parking lot again, bc I've been twisting my ankle for 27 years and I've never seen such big lump in my life. On the other hand, he says that's the most epic thing that's ever happened to him on a climb.2
We went for a swim in the lake next to the parking lot. I thought it was freezing, but then, I think 79F is cold. We drove back to the room for showers and an Ace bandage. He iced his foot and we chatted with our Harley driving neighbors at the Econolodge. Dinner was mediocre steaks slathered in blue cheese at Gordie's and then we hopped in the jacuzzi before bed.
When I woke up, I asked GMac, "What time were we getting up again?" "Half an hour ago, but it's been raining since 4:30." He'd suggested we could go cragging - he could at least belay me, he kept saying.34 Climbing in the rain sucks though. I think it says something about what a sweetheart he is that he was so worried that I'd had a bad time that he was willing to sit around belaying me and giving me beta, whereas I felt terrible that my weakness meant he'd been injured and was now unable to climb for who knows how long.5 Instead we went shopping, wherein GMac discovered I lose all track of time when contemplating gear. Despite the impressive array of winter layers on sale, I only bought 4 things: a pair of climbing pants, so I'll have something to wear to the gym; Daisy Duke running shorts; a random but fuschia and v-neck short sleeve technical shirt; and exercise skorts. GMac was very excited about the Daisy Dukes - I don't know when I'll wear them since some of my running shirts are longer than those shorts and I don't have that many running buddies with whom I want to look slutty - and very dubious about the running skorts, but since I returned that pair too-long-ago-to-find-the-link, I figured this time I'll just buy them somewhere I can't return them. We stopped at the NH state liquor store, as one does, and I fretted about which bourbon to buy. I eventually bought the Jefferson's Reserve, bc I'd never seen it before.
It was GMac's right ankle that was injured, so I drove 2/3rds of the way home. We hit moderate traffic, which seemed to upset him a lot, even though we hit the road just before noon. I did okay, with only one exclamation from him and a few grumbles when I'd ask him if I could switch lanes. He found it amusing to read to me from Cosmo as I drove; eventually I asked him a random question about his career, which led him to tell me about working for NASA in the early eighties, radio hijinks with the Russians in Sudan, and testifying in a patent litigation case. Maybe it's that this was my fourth weekend in a row to climb or maybe it's just bc he's had an interesting life, but I'd call this a pretty decent weekend.
__________________
1As I write this, it dawns on me that it's perhaps not as absurd as one might think for me to go climbing in Indonesia for 3 weeks next August. Well, except for the rest of this post.
2Hence the title of this post.
3Hence the comment on the picture on FB.
4I really want to try Clipadee-do-dah-day, a 5.3 sport climb at Rumney sometime, after his description.
5Maybe it's a Texas thing.