Two Seconds

November 21, 2009 Mack, Mosetick, and I meet up for a day of backcountry skiing. We carpooled to Crystal Mountain and drove past the parking attendant ignoring his instructions of where to park. At the C parking lot we started the process of gearing up. Like climbing, the steps a group goes through to start a day of play begins with a lot of fussing, chattering, teasing, laughing, and general excitement. I love this part. I can go home now; I'm satisfied. I tell myself, "Just wait, it only gets better."

We start the trek up the path, meeting up with a couple of random guys and their dog. A skin track is before us and we all make our way up the trail until we reach the ridge of Bullion Basin. The snow is untouched. Mack starts a pit and we do some testing. The top five inches of the snow is our concern. We aren't that concerned and clean up the pit, finish off some gummy fish, water ourselves, and put skis back on for the first runs.

"I'll go first and then video you guys from below."

"Ha ha, you just want the first run."

"There are advantages to being the videographer."

I cut across the field to drop into my line, the turns smooth, the snow is deep, the speed right to float me through this powdery goodness. And out of no where I started hooting and cheering. I'm surprised at myself as this occurs. I come to the base of my run and I'm laughing, the wind has caused tears in my eyes. Heaven.

For those two seconds where the world goes quiet, where all my trouble, all my fear, all my worries go quiet -- all that is left is pure joy. I don't experience that very often. Usually, I'm in my routine, having fun and enjoying the moment... seldom do I have that moment of joy that rises up out of me into uncontrolled vocal excitement.

That two seconds... it's why I ski, it's why I climb.

Avalanche Safety Reprise

Oops. I forgot to post this before I left for Denver on December 18th. Must have been busy and forgot... Here it is... better late than never...

I finished my Avalanche Awareness course. Three Mondays at REI, and a field trip to Steven's Pass. The field class was pretty uneventful, which in a way is good. I learned lots of things. One is that finding a beacon buried a few inches under the snow is not the same as locating a beacon three feet or more under the snow. Another is that I need to replace my probe with one of a better quality. I got a BCA Probe that came free with my shovel and it just isn't very good. At one point during a rescue scenario I was asked to help probe for the victim and I failed to secure it tightly causing it to collapse. Having your probe collapse is kind of embarrassing.

Also I found that a number of people don't take a scenario like that seriously. The scenario is that three victims have been buried in an avalanche and you are being asked to help locate and recover the bodies (hopefully alive.) Those that are involved often make jokes, they over act, they don't just simply behave with the seriousness that is required for such a topic. I don't get that. I mean to have fun and all, but if I ever have to dig someone out of an avalanche, I want to know that I can do it -- even if/when I'm totally freaked out. And of course, I want to know if I'm caught in one and need to be dug out that those I'm with take it seriously and know what to do as well.

I didn't take any pictures. It was a beautiful day but I was just more busy playing and learning than I realized. And the guide/instructor did tell us to bring a camera if we wanted. Oh well, I will be sure to take some pictures the next time I'm out on the snow.

I'm leaving for Denver late Friday evening and hoping to arrive late Saturday or early Sunday. And then I'm sure it will be one activity after the next. I'll be sure to put up additional updates.

Happy Holidays everyone!

Avalanche!

Every time Mack and I go skiing in the backcountry we do a serious practice of beacon locating. Mack or I will take a lead on the skin track wrap a beacon in a coat or baggie and bury it in the snow. A simple not to panic "Avalanche" call lets the other know to look up and identify the last location. And then we breakout our beacon, switch it to search mode, and find the other "person."

We do this every single trip. With one exception, and that was because I had left my beacon at home (by accident) and the avalanche concern was "Low." So we made a calculated decision to continue without beacons. The intention of practicing beacon location every time is that we don't want to panic should we ever have to actually locate another person.

I watched a video on youtube a while back which now has been on different news channels, and has been turned into a advertisement for the Avalung. Interestingly enough, the guy caught in the avalanche had his mouth piece just out of reach of his mouth and couldn't use it to breath. He was rescued exceptionally fast (buried with skis on and tips showing) at 4 minutes 30 seconds. One third of people caught in avalanche are believed to be killed by trauma. After 30 minutes you only have a 50% chance of survival. And the average time to dig someone out even with a beacon -- 20 minutes. The odds are against you in the winter backcountry world.

So we practice our safety skills every time. We certainly take calculated risks. We read the snow reports and dig pits to verify the conditions. We watch the weather before us, and we have honest discussions about the dangers.

Tomorrow, I will head out with a group of people that will have an introductory field class on Avalanche safety. Yeah, I know -- I should have taken this class last year. I am surprised at myself for putting it off this long. I won't take the level 1 certification until the new year. So in some ways, I'm still putting it off.

I know in this class we won't be going in very far to the backcountry; the entire trip is just over a mile from what I understand. I'm super excited for it though and having fun doing the prep work. I'm reading the NWAC and watching the weather reports. Packing up extra gear in case someone needs extra layers, and gathering my food so I can make sure I'm not too starved once I arrive. I also packed the camera. I hope I have something fun to share in the next few days.

Stay with Me!

I sit in anticipation of events my week holds. Skiing will come with my preferred backcountry adventures awaiting my mark on the canvas of snow. Tonight a movie.

Today -- I was reviewing some other bloggers and their take on "fear." In particular the fear that comes with climbing, but I'm actually looking at fear from a different prospective. For me, in this case, it isn't limited to climbing.

I have been self employed for less than a year. I've been hanging on, and sticking to my work. However, some days the fear sets in and with that fear -- immobility. My brain doesn't get it, but my body instinctively wants to remain unmoved. My brain is saying... "You can do it!" "Go, Chris, Go!" "You've done harder, this will be a breeze." My body shudders a bit and finds a snuggle with my dog, or desires to crawl back into bed, or puts on the tube to distract from my brains encouragement.

Even now, I sit and write this blog instead of taking on my project. My project is laid out before me. I will write though, entrench my brain on the task of not just understanding this fear, but what path I should use to overcome it.

My project remains unattended.

I sit here now the only problem before me... I can only go forward. So you're wondering, why aren't you working on your project and instead writing a blog? Two reasons a) I haven't done a blog update in a long time(yes I get the irony,) and 2) in my head, I'm standing midway up the first pitch of Ewephoric on the Sheeps Head in Cochise.

I yelled down to my climbing partner Brigette, "I don't think I can do this." She didn't respond. Or maybe she did. I don't recall. I plugged a piece of gear into the wall, this wide smooth handholdless monster. I stood there for a long time. I had a conversation with my self.

selfdoubt: "Downclimb?"
me: "No."
selfdoubt: "You only have one other choice, you get that don't you?"
me: "No, I have two other choices."
selfdoubt: "Two other choices? Really? Besides going down? You're so full of shit."
me: "Yes, two other choices besides going down. I can go up, that would be a good choice. Or I can also just stand here until a rescue party comes."
selfdoubt: "Dumbass."
me: "So how do you think I should go up then?"
selfdoubt: "You're probably right, just stand there until the rescue party comes."
me: "Great. Well, I can at least move up to that ledge there."
selfdoubt: "Then what, you can see there is no way to protect there."
me: "Well, I'll just take the next obvious step."
selfdoubt: "Dumbass."

I moved up the rock. A scene from Gladiator moved through my head and I hear the words of Maximus: "Three weeks from now...Imagine where you will be, and it will be so. Hold the line! Stay with me! If you find yourself alone, riding in the green fields with the sun on your face, do not be troubled. For you are in Elysium, and you're already dead!"

In the movie the soldiers all laugh. I didn't laugh, I was already alone. I had moved up to that next ledge, and recalled that the party before us had another piece in the rock above me before reaching the one bolt on the entire first pitch. I didn't like the way that looked. I stepped out of the runnel crack thing I was in, and just slab face climbed my way to the bolt. A good choice in hindsight, but scary. I reached the bolt, clipped, the climb was pretty much over... one pitch down, only four pitches to go. And no, I won't tell you how far it was from my last gear placement to the bolt.

I know how to conquer my fear. The problem isn't conquering it. The problem is I'm not ready for Elysium. It is easy to step out and let the current carry you. You might get bumped along the way, scrapped up, maybe even broken a bit. Those who don't let go will cheer you and give you hero status or poo-poo you because they didn't have the courage. They will call you mentor, roll model, inspiration, crazy, moron, idiot. How brave of you! How stupid! And yet, all you did was let go in the moment, and let it wash over you. Somehow even when I embrace that fear and accept immobility I eventually let go. Okay, I don't know how to conquer my fear, I just accept it.

I'm encouraged to move; be physical. This morning I woke with my dog to let her water the grass and then filled her tummy with breakfast. Often I choose to crawl back into my warm sheets and sleep another 15 or 30 minutes, an hour. I started washing the dishes. Be mobile. I can do that; that isn't what is holding me back. I can do the physical. This is emotional. This is mental. I have the means, I'm intelligent, I have the plan, I have the resources, I have everything I need. And somehow I am fighting against this immobility, I fight against Elysium.

That's the story... I guess it is time to let go. I'll let you know how it turns out.

My Review of Black Diamond Method Randonee Boots - Men's

Originally submitted at REI

These stiff Method freeride boots from Black Diamond are for the aggressive skier and built to take them over any and all terrain.

Black Diamond Method Randonee Boots - Men's

First boot in 14 years.

By Climbing Chris from Poulsbo, WA on 10/29/2009

 

4out of 5

Gift: No

Pros: Flexible, Stable, Lightweight

Best Uses: Downhill, Deep Powder, Back Country

Describe Yourself: Advanced

This is the first boot I have purchased in 14 years. I got them last year and used them for several days of touring. They were fantastic. I didn't have any physical pain or problems with these boots. I even hiked two miles in them back to the car and while glad to take them off at the end of a day, they were fantastic.

Love, love, love my Methods

(legalese)

Rock!

I don't have very many exciting pictures. This one here -- Lambert Lembert Dome. It has some pretty fun climbs. I lead the three pitch 5.6 Northwest Book in two pitches. Of course, that isn't a big deal at all. I got lapped by free soloers who run up that climb just for the exercise of it. Seriously, I met a guy named Chris while I was finishing the last pitch who was doing just this. I asked what the top was like. His response was to look for the block that will take any piece of gear you have left. I found the block, built my anchor, and brought up my cousin (who is also very capable of free soloing this climb -- he climbed this in his tennies) and by the time we were at the top, Chris was finishing his second lap.

It wasn't a hard climb by any stretch and very fun. I highly recommend it for a warm up to getting your lead head on. There is only one slick spot but the protection is fantastic. I'd even say skip the first bolt. It doesn't really do much for you anyway, though great for that secure feeling you might need.

I actually spent more time bouldering than I did climbing the faces. My first two days were bouldering at the Kitty and Puppy boulders. My two cents -- the Kitty boulders are way better. That isn't to say you shouldn't spend time on the Puppy boulders too. I just like the type of climbing that has clean ground to fall on. I also spent a day climbing at the Knobs. These boulders are awesome. The granite is laced with feldspar cubes that you can pinch and stand on... I even did my first "highball." Okay, it was not really a highball. It was just higher than I like to go. I'm a bit of a chicken when it comes to bouldering. Bad knees, bad ankles... I'm sure I can make up some more excuses. I'm a sissy... I can live with it.

My cousin and I wanted to do a bit of climbing together, but sometimes things don't work out the way you hope. Kevin was out climbing the Hulk when I arrived, and as you might expect was a bit tired when he returned. We did a bit of bouldering at the Knobs and then he got called out on a SAR. I told him that if he didn't return the next day I would assume the call was a big deal and I was going to head out.

The next morning I woke up and started to read, eat break fast and finally I packed up for another day of bouldering when I was invited to do some cragging with some of the other SAR team. We ended up at the East Cottage Dome. Here were mostly 10c and harder climbs. I have discovered that I like to fall up climbs. The 10d climbs I definitely still have to work out sections on. I warmed up on a climb called Knobnoxious (5.10d) and the pump in my arms was especially difficult to work through, but I did make it to the top. That day was followed by a jump into the river and cleaning up of camp.

I made the decision to hang out through dinner with the crew from the SAR and to my luck Kevin showed up. We made plans to climb the Regular Route on the Fairview Dome. We woke casually, and watched as the thunder clouds build. We decided to give our climb a try and secretly hoped that other climbers would be chased off by the thunder and that we wouldn't be chased off.

Kevin was super cool, as expected. We got to the climb and I was offered the lead. I have led 5.9 on traditional gear before, but I had yet to do it clean without bailing off and retrying or sagging the rope. I started up the climb and Kevin's words sat on the tip of my thoughts -- Look for good placements before and after a crux and for confidence double up a placement before a crux.

His advice was perfect as I came to the first crux with bad hands and slick feet. The rock in Tuolumne is a mixture of granite crystals and polished rock. I pushed through and was in full sweat. I was thankful for those thunder clouds building around us.

Then I hear this whirwhirwhir like a humming bird passing past your year. "ROCK!" I heard the call after the rock just went past my ear. Never even saw it. I swore about how late the call was made. My head was in climbing though and I would find out once Kevin reached me that no one called rock from above but rather he had called it once he saw it as passed my head. I dropped a piece to protect me and continued up as the rain started a sprinkle on me. The upper crack was already soggy. I dove my fingers back into the crack and excepted it would be mucky.

When I got to the top Thunder sounded to welcome me to my rest place. I had some nuts and three cams left. Only one piece would fit in the rock, so I made a two point belay with my one cam and the belay station on the tree in the rock. Kevin started up the rock.

Kevin moves fast over a 5.9, again climbing in his tennies. In my hurry to get Kevin up though, I failed to backup my belay. I brought him up on a single point of protection, and it wasn't even connected to me. I felt a bit stupid. I felt really stupid. Rock climbing is dangerous and even with thunder and lightening you have to keep your head and double check everything. Once again I failed to be safe. On the bright side I was super confident that the one point I had for Kevin was super safe and I even repelled off that one point myself (which I will tell you about shortly.) Though here is another thought. When you are learning to use a new tool (I was using an auto-locking belay device I'd never used before) you should practice with it on the ground first. Just my $0.02.

So Kevin got to me, and the thunder and lightening was coming on. I told Kevin that if we are going up then I wanted him to lead since he could move faster than me and the rain was my biggest concern on lead. He agreed and started up the second pitch. A loud crack stopped him, and he put a piece of gear to rest on for a moment. We had that discussion -- do we go up, or down? He was confident that we could go up but was worried about getting really wet and miserable. I made the call to go down -- I had already accomplished the clean 5.9 trad lead! I was stoked! The rest of the climb was easier stuff. Down would be okay by me -- and safer.

We setup the repel and I went first (yep that same single point protection I brough Kevin up on.) I didn't get five meters before the hail and rain started on me. My belay and biner were burning hot when I repelled off the end of the rope (as planned) on a nice slab of rock. Kevin followed and I moved off the rock and put on my hiking shoes. Kev did the clean up -- he really is fast at this stuff and does it with all the safety steps required to keep safe.

We ran down the hill and not 30 minutes later the sun was out on our climb and we were laughing that we knew that would be the end result. We ran over to another dome and did a fun 10a to end the day. Not enough climbing for Kevin or me, but the rock isn't going anywhere... well a few chunks are coming down on occasion for sure, but I'll have time to go back and repeat my climbs and pick up some new ones.

I think I need to find another week down here in the Tahoe/Yosemite area. Too much to do, and my lead head is coming along nicely.

Bedtime Stories

S: Hiya, still there?

me: Yep, for a little bit longer. Aren't you suppose to be asleep?

S: That was the plan... can't sleep, wide awake, tell me a bedtime story. "Christopher's Travels"

me: Okay.

We left Reno behind. The temps were scraping the 100 degree mark

S: I thought you left Seattle behind?

me: Hey... this is my story...

S: Sorry...carry on.

me: The trunk was packed for an over night in the High Sierra's. The windows down, the warm air swarmed through the car... It was Hot. Damn Hot. We stopped in Carson City (That's the capital of Nevada, in case you didn't know) and got gas, and a slushy to help cool off. Then we started our ascent into the mountains around Lake Tahoe. The drive is only 70 miles from Reno, but it takes a couple hours with all the traffic lights... and a celebrity golf match.

We stopped at a hole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant filled with the local Latino residents in South Lake Tahoe. The food was delicious. We'd be sure to stop again on the way home. Our bellies full of good eats, we continued to Strawberry. The air already cooling, the view along the winding road awes as you approach Lover's Leap. The rock is begging for your attention. We took a left at Strawberry Lodge and went to the camp ground at Lover's Leap. At 7000 feet, it was still in the 90 degree range... the campsites were full and the river looked refreshing. We could look for a place to sleep later.

We stripped to our suits and went for a swim in the refreshing water. After an hour of swimming and sunning we decided to check out the lodge. We were unsure where we'd lay our heads but we found we would have options. And there is an ice cream shop.

The dinning room closed at 8:30, the bar at 10:30. Ice cream sounded good. Three cones, rockie road, strawberry, and almond praline. That would suffice us for our climb... We wanted to climb. We needed to climb. 5:40 PM we racked up and made our way to The Line. A classic 5.9 crack that you could see from the anywhere you could see Lover's Leap. Simply described as "The best climb of its grade, anywhere."

Yep, that's the plan. Jeff took the first lead, Sarah followed, then me.

S: This sounds like a blog.

me: I'm telling you a bedtime story here.

The sun was still blazing hot even as six o'clock ticked past. Jeff flaked the rope and racked up. I put on my harness and bouldered the lower part of the climb. Sarah offered the first lead up to me. "No, thanks. Looks a bit stiff, and the first moves are unprotected for a bit." I put Jeff on belay, we did our checks. Locked my biner and Jeff set off on lead. To me, he moved quickly. Jeff would say he moved slow. We all ticked off the first pitch.

The first pitch was amazing... at one point I yelled "Falling!" as my hands slipped down the rock, my feet perched well and my butt pushing me desperately off the wall. I hooked my finger onto a small edge and got my balance. I should have been dropping but I didn't. I found nice ledge, and took a short break to breath. Sweat soaked my shirt and my face. The pack on my back with water, shoes and other bits was feeling heavy. For the moment, I was wishing we'd left it on the ground. But starting as late as we were, we knew the walk off would be dark.

I continued on, until I was just below Sarah. Sarah wanted the next lead. This should have been a two pitch climb. Sarah climbed until she ran out of slings and had few gear placements left. Getting your lead head on is hard enough with all the gear but when you have to choose to run-out your pitch that takes even more courage. Sarah chose safety and I was grateful for her decision. Ten more minutes and the sun will drop behind the hills. Jeff told Sarah, "We're not going to make dinner at the lodge."

Jeff seconded her climb cleaning the gear and then finished the final 20 meters... With the sun set behind the hills darkness was soon to follow. Jeff cleared the roof and Sarah followed Jeff's final moves. She had just enough day light to see the holds. The plan was to finish the climb in the light and I would climb in the dark from the first pitch. I did after all have the backpack.

Still at the first pitch, the sun set, and my nerves starting to get the better of me, I took a deep breath with eyes closed and calmed myself. I clipped the backpack to a sling on my shoulders to secure it as I removed it and brought it around to my front. Careful to not let anything fall out, I pulled out my headlamp. I removed my helmet, and placed the headlamp on my head. Put the helmet back on. Hit the headlamp power button -- No light.

Mother [bleep]er! This thing is brand new! My headlamp was dead. Maybe it drained the batteries... Son-of-a-... I took off my helmet and the headlamp and returned it to the pack.

S: (sitting on the edge of my seat) What did you do, Chris?

me: I'm getting there... now shut up. I'm making this up as I go you know? Well, I'm writing it up as best I remember, but as I go... you put me on the spot.

Jeff also brought a headlamp. I put it at the bottom of the backpack. Crap. Three pairs of shoes, water, shirts, and "knickknacks" at the bottom of it all. I carefully dug my way to the bottom until I felt what I thought was the "knickknacks." Nope, that was a shirt, try again. Finally, the sack with Jeff's headlamp. This one was much bigger than mine. This one fit over my helmet, so I put the helmet back on, and the headlamp over the helmet.

I hit the power button -- Da-Dah-DA, I had light.

"Chris, On Belay!"

S: Yay!

me: Hey, this story is suppose to put you to sleep... now shut up.

I started to clear the anchor. Jeff pulled the rope taut. "Chris, Climb when Ready!" Jeff called.

I called back "Jeff, Climbing!"

The headlamp was my only source of light. There was no moon tonight. Every handhold, every foot placement required me to shine the light where I hoped to secure myself to the wall. This is an exercise we do in the gym sometimes only not in the dark. I was scared, but I felt safe. I actually cruised up the first 30 meters the headlamp highlighting the chaulked holds.

Only 25 meters to go. The holds became limited. The climb had moved to technical slab climbing with a few pin scars that my finger tips could use to balance me along the way.

And then, the roof. I had watched both Jeff and Sarah clear the roof. They are stronger more experienced climbers than me, and I was feeling nervous. They both had to work their way through thin fingers over the lip.

I moved in, under the rock, the light scanning for the good holds. I found an undercling for my right hand, and I walked my feet up as high as I could. I could see the chaulk that had been left behind in a side pull edge, and I didn't like it. Thin. Shallow. Mossy?

I wasn't sure how I would make it through this roof in the dark by headlamp and then I moved my hand up higher past this ugly hold. It looked like I could actually get my hand to the top with big nice hold.

Sure enough it was huge. I could have done handstands on it. With my left hand on this hold, I let my right go from the undercling and matched it on the ledge. I cake walked the roof.

S: YAY!

me: The climb was done, 10 feet and I was hugging my climbing partners. Feeling happy and elated. We put on our shoes and packed up the rope and other gear. It was now time to get down the mountain.

My headlamp wasn't working... so three people had to walk down to light I was holding. We moved swiftly but cautiously, the rocks and roots could easily cause a problem. Shadows made it difficult to see, so Jeff led, I was second (with the light) and Sarah was behind me.

I would look back to light Sarah's way on occasion and as we started to clear to a smooth path, Sarah tripped.

She rolled her ankle.

We all paused.

Sarah's face told us she was hurt. Tears were on the edge of her eyes. Jeff moved in to protect his girl.

And Sarah stood up.

She would be able to walk. Our pace slowed but was uneventful to the base. We missed the parking lot and ended up in someone's camp. Sarah was hurt so she and Jeff decided we'd grab a room at the Lodge. The room was small... a queen and a twin.

I got the twin.

S: lol

me: Sarah didn't sleep well. I woke to her and Jeff discussing what they could do to make her feel better. Ice, Advil? The foot hadn't swollen at all, but the pain was keeping her awake. We were worried it had broke. The pain caused Sarah to be nauseous and she went in to sleep on the bathroom tile. Did I mention our room didn't have a bathroom so we had a shared bathroom? Yep... Small room.

Jeff had things under control, so I went back to sleep, the zzz's wander through our climb.

Morning came, and I bought breakfast. We dropped Sarah off at the river where she soaked her foot in the cooling waters. Jeff and I headed to the Haystack. A beautiful 5.7. I would get to lead the first pitch this time.

Hold on... I need a moment... it's a long story.

S: Very dramatic

me: I'm good. Okay... here we go.

There were two parties on the wall. The young girl was just leaving the ground as we approached. We chatted a bit and noted that her shoes were clearly too big. She'd left her shoes and borrowed a pair of Katana's from a random guy. I guess he had a rest day.

We said hellos, and she started to climb. Jeff and I farted around until we saw her reach her leader. I racked up, tied in, and did the usual checks. I started the climb feeling confident and moved fairly swiftly. I hit a snag at one point and struggled to get a good placement. I thought I found a better spot so removed the gear, tested the new spot, it was bad, put the placement back in the original spot. I was being stupid.

I continued on. I reached the first ledge, and there was the girl waiting for her lead to start the belay for her. I plugged a piece in to hold me until she cleared the ledge. We chatted a bit. She offered me some water. Her name is Courtney, and with the pressure of people following she decided to not clear a piece of gear. I told her we'd clear it and return it to her at the next ledge. I didn't get my water.

I used the left behind gear and built my anchor to bring Jeff up. He cleared my gear. When he reached me I asked, "How'd I do?"

Jeff said "Well, you pretty much free solo'd that climb."

"Your first four placements were good, but then the next four came out and if you fell, it would have been one hell of a whipper."

S: free solo'd?

me: My confidence was shook... Yeah, free soloing is climbing unprotected, the basic idea is that if I fell I would have taken a very long fall as each of my pieces would have come out of the wall. Not my idea of a good time.

S: Shook because of your placements?

me: Yes.

S: ah

me: Shall I continue?

S: Yes, Pleas do.

me: Thank you.

My gear placements were bad, and Jeff must have thought I was a total idiot and wondered if my anchor was stable. He checked it and was assured it was good, I knew it was because I had replaced the gear Courtney pulled with the same pieces from my rack. Jeff and I swapped the lead and he took Courtney her gear that she left behind.

The second pitch was a good one not to have to be on lead. The roof was intimidating. When I got there, it was not easy either... but the placements were good and I would make it through without much effort. Except what was caused in my head.

I got to Jeff and we laughed that Courtney had to leave another piece behind. Jeff said, "You take this lead." It wasn't a request. He handed me the gear to return, and I racked up the gear.

I was feeling nervous, but as I climbed I decided, "I can take my time, no one is following us, and I can do this." Jeff just nodded to my obvious commentary to myself.

I started my climb. I continued up, and HOLY SHIT IS THAT A SECOND ROOF? I swore. Lots. I've never led through a roof. I swore some more. Lots more.

I continued up until I got to the roof. I placed my gear in the crack, stemmed out to the opposing face, placed my hand thumb down into the crack over the edge, swung my left leg over the edge, and rolled up.

I did it!

I [bleep]ing did it!

And then I walked the remaining way to the top where Billy, Courtney's boyfriend checked over my anchor (I knew it was bomber) because I asked... Just to ensure I wasn't being a dumbass and over confident.

S: I knew you could!

me: Jeff followed up and told me, "You're placements were perfect. Nice job."

S: redeemed

me: I gave Courtney back her gear, and she gave me some water. And back down the mountain again, though much easier in the daylight.

The day got scorching so Jeff and I decided to head back to the river. I ran up to the base of our climb to retrieve the last of our gear. A marmot destroyed my backpack for sunscreen... I loved that pack. This time REI wasn't going to replace it for me. Stupid marmot also ruined my favorite sun screen and that wasn't even in the zippered pocket! Grrr.

We met up with Sarah who had just enough of the river and was starting to get hungry so we headed back to Reno, stopping at our new favorite mexican restaurant before making the final trek. The warmth of the drive home put me to sleep. Reno was still too hot. We grabbed cheap chinese and a movie...

S: How was your movie karma this time?

me: Oh, we rented a movie. I did see the new Harry Potter in the theater and it was good... though people are still retarded in theaters.

All was happy, and we slept in... except for Jeff who had to catch a plane to Seattle for work.

me: My sister just told me that she's in a middle of a tornado warning. I only have a little bit of juice left in my laptop bat.

S: I was gonna tell you about that, but you were telling your story. Hail, high winds, tons of rain. They just cancelled the warning here in Denver

me: Curious. Okay... gotta go... sleep well.

S: Okay, thanks for the story gnight.

me: g'night.

Headlamp update. Turns out that the batteries were still good. For some unknown reason once the back was closed on that particular headlamp it stopped working. Thank you REI for making that return so very easy.