An R-rated Weekend in the Daks
My first two climber sleepovers in the Daks were so great, it's hard to believe how much my weekend sucked. In the past, I loved how sticky the rocks were to climb, the companionship of sharing a bunkhouse with 20-odd people I sorta know, and GMac's thoughtfulness in planning an itinerary we'd both enjoy. This trip had none of that.
The last few days before the trip, GMac kept calling me to ask what train I was taking. There's only one train per hour to Madison, NJ and he'd told me to be there in time to pick up his daughter at 4, so I have no idea why he didn't look it up himself, why it seemed so critically important to endlessly discuss this, but I duly got on a train that arrived at 3:33. When I got there, he wasn't ready, so we ran errands, we waited at his daughter's class, we went back to his place so he and his daughter could pack. I could really have used that extra hour at my own apt, packing for my 2 antithetical but conjoined vacations, or I'd've at least preferred to finish the last few chapters of the book I'd started on NJ Transit. We finally got on the road and the trip was better than expected; we dropped his daughter off in Albany and got to the lodge, where I discovered Bushmills 10yr is great for when you're feeling moody and staring at a fire.
It poured on Thursday, so Fri morning, we went to an area called Dead Water that is often quick to dry. There was a guide on the one 5.6 in the area, so we climbed the first pitches of Warpath *** and Tombstone *****, which were 5.6 and 5.9 respectively. They were very short and Warpath had a hard first move and the rest was uninteresting. I couldn't make the crux move on Tombstone and had to work and work at it: eventually I found the inner handhold on the layback. It was kind of a one-trick wonder, like many of the 5.9s I eventually get.
Next we headed over to The Empress, a 5.5 classic slab ***** rated R for run-out. In trad climbing, that means section(s) where you cannot place protection, i.e. if you fall, you will fall a long way. We'd climbed a 5.4 next to it the prior 2 years - GMac led it the first time, I led the first half the second time - but he wanted to try something a little more interesting. Because it is 865' with a walk-off, he asked me to carry a pack with 2 water bottles, our shoes, lunch, etc. I balked at carrying the 672 page guide book, suggesting that we could take pictures of the relevant pages on his iPhone, like Jon and I do when we climb. He agreed, but at the top of the first pitch, he discovered that the combination of his reading glasses, the iPhone, and glare from the sun meant he couldn't really see the page. It was the closest I've ever seen GMac to cursing me, and I've done some pretty asshatted things over the years. He got off-route, although a pair of guides came through and gave us beta. The toughest part was the offwidth crack, although between GMac contending with the tough lead and my contending with the bag pulling me off balance, I don't think either of us had a great time on the climb. GMac's big hug at our rest stop didn't make me feel better either. In retrospect, I wonder if he was impatient and cranky during the walk out bc I was displeased with the hug, or if it was just bc he had to wait for me to muddle through the woods. We stopped at the Ausable Inn for a drink and the bartender guessed that I'm 10 years younger than I am, so that was alright. Also, talking things through, GMac convinced me that the thing that will improve my climbing is if I keep climbing these "one trick wonders" that are just a little hard for me, eventually those tricks will be in my subconscious the same way I can intuitively find the holds on a sub-5.7 climb.
Back at the lodge, things were uncomfortable. RobO had arranged for his cousin? to come cook for us, so no one would have to cut their climbing short to deal with food. The well-meaning Irish-American lady's fajitas were nearly inedible. Worse, her husband was dumb and constantly asking weird questions; I later heard that her sullen teenage kids were sneaking beer. MBer, aka my climber crush, rolled in after dinner like a BMOC, trailing two townie friends. Unsurprisingly, the group never developed the usual collegial atmosphere and I retreated to our room to finish my book and go to bed.
GMac frequently talks about a day spent climbing Gamesmanship and Catharsis, bc they are on opposite sides of Poke-O-Moonshine (mountain?) and between them, you get the full Adirondacks experience of high-friction slabs and cracks. Last year, our last day of the weekend was Gamesmanship; this year, we climbed Catharsis. By the end of the day, I realized two things: 1) GMac misses mountaineering, which is why he keeps finding these deserted, out of the way climbs for us, even though I can't hike for shit and 2) he likes Catharsis not bc it's awesome, but bc some guide boggled that he'd "on-sited" it (led it with no beta) the first time.
The climbing itself was similar to the day before, albeit on a rock that was more pinkish than grey. We got to the top of the third pitch and stopped for water and a snack. GMac pointed out the "escape", a place where you can walk off without an emergency rappel. I've been climbing with him for 5 years, so I could tell from his body language that he wasn't feeling confident, that he'd never gotten his head into the climbing. It was scary: I call him my climbing mentor bc I'm used to the easy way he knows just what to do in every outdoor situation. I almost suggested we walk off, but mindful of those studies that say you're less happy when you have a choice, I decided not to remind him.
He started off on the traverse, placed a piece, and started up toward the hand crack that led to a gap, from where he'd ascend to the belay. Moving up, he yelled "falling!" and I grabbed at the rope, pulling in the slight bit of slack. It was more of a trip than a fall, but he later told me he'd been debating whether to use a cam or a tri-cam and as he fell, thought about the little tri-cam that was keeping him from falling off the side into the air. He continued up, but my heart was in my mouth the whole time. He got to the hand crack, placed a cam, and I sighed with relief. Then he fiddled with it. Then he moved it. Then he put another piece in. And fiddled with that and put another piece in. Eventually he said, "lower me," which was not what I was expecting. He cleaned the little tri-cam, built an anchor next to the walk-off, and belayed my walk over. It drove me nuts that he wanted to leave behind a large cam and a few other pieces of gear on the anchor from which I'd belayed him, especially since the climb to it was just a steep walk, but I'd have to down climb to GMac with no protection above me: if I fell, I'd swing 120 degrees off a ledge. It seemed worth (half of) $100 not to do that. I was dubious as he bushwhacked through the woods, but eventually we hit a trail. On the way down, we saw several families and several little girls got big eyes when they heard we'd climbed up.
I felt bad that GMac was having such a shitty time, so when we got back to the car, I asked him, "What could we do in the next 36hrs to make this a good trip for you?" With hardly a pause, he said, "Get my boss off my back about this work problem." Which pretty much told me where his head was. We stopped at Stewart's for ice cream, which seemed nice until he borrowed my cell (he didn't have coverage) to catch up with work, shushed me for making too much noise, and left me with nothing to do in the middle of Elizabethtown, NY. On the plus side, it made him realize what I've been telling him all along, since he got demoted layered out on his birthday, that he needs to find a new job and I give him props for acknowledging that to me.
Dinner was not much better, although after dinner, MBer came over to tell me about his planned sabbatical in South America. We chatted about Patagonia and his new part time job guiding while the plain townie girl who leads 5.10 shot eye-daggers at me.
GMac often asks me where I want to climb: in an area as large as the Daks, I don't even try, but Sunday morning, I read on the Internet that the "Jewel & Gem" wall is good for newbie leaders. Bottom-line, the Daks doesn't have much to climb if you're not leading 5.8: I'd never noticed this in years past bc GMac was leading 8s and 9s. The easiest, most highly-rated climb at the Jewel & Gem wall is North Country Club Crack, a 5.6 **** crack, which I generally like, but this one was flaring, off-width, and at-an-angle. I placed the first piece, looked at the rest, and begged off. GMac climbed it and after following, I knew I'd made the right choice. From there we climbed Gold Digger, a 5.10b if I did it the way in the book (I don't think I did). He led Diamond & Coal (5.6 **) and backed off In the Rough (5.7+), instead walking 'round the back to set it up. Mid-afternoon, a group of 4 older folks came to the wall and spent the rest of the day loudly talking nonsense, mostly about how much they'd spent on their new rope.
GMac wanted to check out another climbing area, so we bushwhacked up a dry but mossy streambed to a landslide (but not the climbing wall). Eventually I convinced GMac to leave. We were debating which of the 4 restaurants in town to dine at. When we got to the Ausable Inn, we ran into friends of my family so, looking to decrease my alone time with GMac, we joined them for dinner. I had somehow missed that she adores the Adirondacks so we chatted about 46ers and she told GMac all about family vacations when I was small.
We got back to the lodge a little late, so I told GMac that the latest I could leave was 8:30. He took this to mean that we should leave at 8:30, so even though I'd been up since 6 (and he'd been up since 7), he dawdled at breakfast. He checked his work mail and discovered a possible job opening -- which led him to start ranting about how he didn't want to visit Israel bc of all the political discussions, which led him to rant about how they never should've taken Palestine from the Arabs, how they should've given Germany to the Jews. He has a memory like an elephant, remembering every minute detail about my siblings, and I've had to duck out of the training class he runs bc of Passover -- there's no way he doesn't know I'm Jewish. I'm not sure if he's just that firmly an anti-Zionist or if he wanted to piss me off, but stopping every half hour on the road meant I missed my NJ Transit back to the city by 3 minutes, which made me two hours late for the bus to Atlantic City. But that's another story.
The last few days before the trip, GMac kept calling me to ask what train I was taking. There's only one train per hour to Madison, NJ and he'd told me to be there in time to pick up his daughter at 4, so I have no idea why he didn't look it up himself, why it seemed so critically important to endlessly discuss this, but I duly got on a train that arrived at 3:33. When I got there, he wasn't ready, so we ran errands, we waited at his daughter's class, we went back to his place so he and his daughter could pack. I could really have used that extra hour at my own apt, packing for my 2 antithetical but conjoined vacations, or I'd've at least preferred to finish the last few chapters of the book I'd started on NJ Transit. We finally got on the road and the trip was better than expected; we dropped his daughter off in Albany and got to the lodge, where I discovered Bushmills 10yr is great for when you're feeling moody and staring at a fire.
It poured on Thursday, so Fri morning, we went to an area called Dead Water that is often quick to dry. There was a guide on the one 5.6 in the area, so we climbed the first pitches of Warpath *** and Tombstone *****, which were 5.6 and 5.9 respectively. They were very short and Warpath had a hard first move and the rest was uninteresting. I couldn't make the crux move on Tombstone and had to work and work at it: eventually I found the inner handhold on the layback. It was kind of a one-trick wonder, like many of the 5.9s I eventually get.
Next we headed over to The Empress, a 5.5 classic slab ***** rated R for run-out. In trad climbing, that means section(s) where you cannot place protection, i.e. if you fall, you will fall a long way. We'd climbed a 5.4 next to it the prior 2 years - GMac led it the first time, I led the first half the second time - but he wanted to try something a little more interesting. Because it is 865' with a walk-off, he asked me to carry a pack with 2 water bottles, our shoes, lunch, etc. I balked at carrying the 672 page guide book, suggesting that we could take pictures of the relevant pages on his iPhone, like Jon and I do when we climb. He agreed, but at the top of the first pitch, he discovered that the combination of his reading glasses, the iPhone, and glare from the sun meant he couldn't really see the page. It was the closest I've ever seen GMac to cursing me, and I've done some pretty asshatted things over the years. He got off-route, although a pair of guides came through and gave us beta. The toughest part was the offwidth crack, although between GMac contending with the tough lead and my contending with the bag pulling me off balance, I don't think either of us had a great time on the climb. GMac's big hug at our rest stop didn't make me feel better either. In retrospect, I wonder if he was impatient and cranky during the walk out bc I was displeased with the hug, or if it was just bc he had to wait for me to muddle through the woods. We stopped at the Ausable Inn for a drink and the bartender guessed that I'm 10 years younger than I am, so that was alright. Also, talking things through, GMac convinced me that the thing that will improve my climbing is if I keep climbing these "one trick wonders" that are just a little hard for me, eventually those tricks will be in my subconscious the same way I can intuitively find the holds on a sub-5.7 climb.
Back at the lodge, things were uncomfortable. RobO had arranged for his cousin? to come cook for us, so no one would have to cut their climbing short to deal with food. The well-meaning Irish-American lady's fajitas were nearly inedible. Worse, her husband was dumb and constantly asking weird questions; I later heard that her sullen teenage kids were sneaking beer. MBer, aka my climber crush, rolled in after dinner like a BMOC, trailing two townie friends. Unsurprisingly, the group never developed the usual collegial atmosphere and I retreated to our room to finish my book and go to bed.
GMac frequently talks about a day spent climbing Gamesmanship and Catharsis, bc they are on opposite sides of Poke-O-Moonshine (mountain?) and between them, you get the full Adirondacks experience of high-friction slabs and cracks. Last year, our last day of the weekend was Gamesmanship; this year, we climbed Catharsis. By the end of the day, I realized two things: 1) GMac misses mountaineering, which is why he keeps finding these deserted, out of the way climbs for us, even though I can't hike for shit and 2) he likes Catharsis not bc it's awesome, but bc some guide boggled that he'd "on-sited" it (led it with no beta) the first time.
The climbing itself was similar to the day before, albeit on a rock that was more pinkish than grey. We got to the top of the third pitch and stopped for water and a snack. GMac pointed out the "escape", a place where you can walk off without an emergency rappel. I've been climbing with him for 5 years, so I could tell from his body language that he wasn't feeling confident, that he'd never gotten his head into the climbing. It was scary: I call him my climbing mentor bc I'm used to the easy way he knows just what to do in every outdoor situation. I almost suggested we walk off, but mindful of those studies that say you're less happy when you have a choice, I decided not to remind him.
He started off on the traverse, placed a piece, and started up toward the hand crack that led to a gap, from where he'd ascend to the belay. Moving up, he yelled "falling!" and I grabbed at the rope, pulling in the slight bit of slack. It was more of a trip than a fall, but he later told me he'd been debating whether to use a cam or a tri-cam and as he fell, thought about the little tri-cam that was keeping him from falling off the side into the air. He continued up, but my heart was in my mouth the whole time. He got to the hand crack, placed a cam, and I sighed with relief. Then he fiddled with it. Then he moved it. Then he put another piece in. And fiddled with that and put another piece in. Eventually he said, "lower me," which was not what I was expecting. He cleaned the little tri-cam, built an anchor next to the walk-off, and belayed my walk over. It drove me nuts that he wanted to leave behind a large cam and a few other pieces of gear on the anchor from which I'd belayed him, especially since the climb to it was just a steep walk, but I'd have to down climb to GMac with no protection above me: if I fell, I'd swing 120 degrees off a ledge. It seemed worth (half of) $100 not to do that. I was dubious as he bushwhacked through the woods, but eventually we hit a trail. On the way down, we saw several families and several little girls got big eyes when they heard we'd climbed up.
I felt bad that GMac was having such a shitty time, so when we got back to the car, I asked him, "What could we do in the next 36hrs to make this a good trip for you?" With hardly a pause, he said, "Get my boss off my back about this work problem." Which pretty much told me where his head was. We stopped at Stewart's for ice cream, which seemed nice until he borrowed my cell (he didn't have coverage) to catch up with work, shushed me for making too much noise, and left me with nothing to do in the middle of Elizabethtown, NY. On the plus side, it made him realize what I've been telling him all along, since he got demoted layered out on his birthday, that he needs to find a new job and I give him props for acknowledging that to me.
Dinner was not much better, although after dinner, MBer came over to tell me about his planned sabbatical in South America. We chatted about Patagonia and his new part time job guiding while the plain townie girl who leads 5.10 shot eye-daggers at me.
GMac often asks me where I want to climb: in an area as large as the Daks, I don't even try, but Sunday morning, I read on the Internet that the "Jewel & Gem" wall is good for newbie leaders. Bottom-line, the Daks doesn't have much to climb if you're not leading 5.8: I'd never noticed this in years past bc GMac was leading 8s and 9s. The easiest, most highly-rated climb at the Jewel & Gem wall is North Country Club Crack, a 5.6 **** crack, which I generally like, but this one was flaring, off-width, and at-an-angle. I placed the first piece, looked at the rest, and begged off. GMac climbed it and after following, I knew I'd made the right choice. From there we climbed Gold Digger, a 5.10b if I did it the way in the book (I don't think I did). He led Diamond & Coal (5.6 **) and backed off In the Rough (5.7+), instead walking 'round the back to set it up. Mid-afternoon, a group of 4 older folks came to the wall and spent the rest of the day loudly talking nonsense, mostly about how much they'd spent on their new rope.
GMac wanted to check out another climbing area, so we bushwhacked up a dry but mossy streambed to a landslide (but not the climbing wall). Eventually I convinced GMac to leave. We were debating which of the 4 restaurants in town to dine at. When we got to the Ausable Inn, we ran into friends of my family so, looking to decrease my alone time with GMac, we joined them for dinner. I had somehow missed that she adores the Adirondacks so we chatted about 46ers and she told GMac all about family vacations when I was small.
We got back to the lodge a little late, so I told GMac that the latest I could leave was 8:30. He took this to mean that we should leave at 8:30, so even though I'd been up since 6 (and he'd been up since 7), he dawdled at breakfast. He checked his work mail and discovered a possible job opening -- which led him to start ranting about how he didn't want to visit Israel bc of all the political discussions, which led him to rant about how they never should've taken Palestine from the Arabs, how they should've given Germany to the Jews. He has a memory like an elephant, remembering every minute detail about my siblings, and I've had to duck out of the training class he runs bc of Passover -- there's no way he doesn't know I'm Jewish. I'm not sure if he's just that firmly an anti-Zionist or if he wanted to piss me off, but stopping every half hour on the road meant I missed my NJ Transit back to the city by 3 minutes, which made me two hours late for the bus to Atlantic City. But that's another story.