Oldsters and Skiing

Runs on Highlands.

Sometimes all I can hope for in a day is just one piece of information that will help guide me through the next. These quizzical pieces of information can come in all shapes and sizes, and the messages can differ; however, their effect on my psyche remains constant. They will always and inexorably ready me for another day.

Today I had my moment—the time when I received a tiny but not inconsequential bit of information—at the end of my day. I had spent the morning and early afternoon skiing with friends. A northern wind had brought with it 10 inches of light, fluffy, snow the previous night, and the mountains just north of Carbondale held blankets of the white stuff. Riding northbound with two stalwart climbers and skiers from the valley truthfully made me nervous—their skill at both sports being well beyond mine—but we passed the 40-minute drive discussing various ways in which you can climb the crux of a specific route on the limestone of Rifle Canyon.

Creeksgiving: A Recipe for the Climbing Soul

If someone were to ask, “What’s the one climbing area that best represents America?” There would be no hesitation to my answer.

“Indian Creek,” I’d say, thinking of the hundred-foot splitter cracks that line the cliffs like the stripes of an orange zebra.

So to combine Indian Creek with the most American holiday on the calendar –Thanksgiving- and you’ve created a very tasty and truly American concoction known as Creeksgiving.

But this delicious marriage of Creeksgiving’s two major ingredients- Indian Creek and Thanksgiving- would not be possible without some crucial spices and seasonings.

So in the spirit of giving thanks, I’ve created a list of four secret and helpful ingredients to insure that your 2012 Creeksgiving is a complete success.

Rocktoberfest 2012: Fear and Loathing in the Red River Gorge

Half of America sits between Colorado and the Red the River Gorge, but to cross that expanse in two days, on four wheels, and with a huge Rock & Ice Easy Up booth in tow, was never out of the question.

I was in like Flynn as the expression goes. I wanted to carouse like that ancient movie star, bark at the moon, shoot the shit, drink Kentucky bourbon and stay up late. But more importantly, I desperately needed a vacation. Work had gotten tough in Colorado, and the endless weeks of a little climbing mixed with a lot of business had worn my psyche paper-thin.

Fortunately the 2012 Rocktoberfest celebration provided the perfect excuse to take a week off and head down to arguably the greatest sport climbing destination in the good ole US of A.

So at the crack of October, Lily and I rolled through the flatlands, hoping to glimpse a piece of history in that southern sandstone Mecca.

Embracing the Whip

Most people are scared to fall. At least that’s what I’ve been told. For me, falling is about as easy as swimming is to a house cat. So as a climber, I thought I had found my tribe. However, after a few weeks into a punishing first season at Rifle Mountain Park, I have to wonder. Just the other day I witnessed a guy I know only as “chain-smoking John” jump from the unclipped anchors of a steep, burly jug haul called Slaggisimo in the famed Arsenal cave, taking a 30-foot ride just for fun. “There’s not a route in this cave that I’ve sent and haven’t jumped from,” I heard him say afterwards. “And hell, that was just a dogging go.”

It seems this is a tradition in Rifle. After clawing up one of the mega routes lining the belly of the Arsenal, climbers will skip the last quickdraw and drop without clipping the anchors. Sometimes they do back flips. But regardless of how they choose to fly through the air, it amazes me because fearing the fall seems so natural. The problem, however, is that the fear often creates a crippling conundrum, one that guards the anchor chains of success and ironically keeps you falling.

“A lot of the people here are still afraid to fall,” my buddy Derek said after whipping big off of the classic Slice of Life (5.13c) in Rifle’s Wicked Cave. Derek sat below his project, stripping the duck tape from his knee-padded legs and added, “But there are a few climbers who are really in tune with their abilities and they aren’t.” He then indulged me with the Canyon’s most recent massive whipper story.

Climb: A Book Review

Climb

Edited by Kerry L. Burns and Cameron M. Burns

www.falcon.com

 

 

 

 

Who knew that first ascents were hidden in the depths of Harlem, or that the original Colorado dirtbags wore deerskin trousers?

Climb’s 15 stories run the gamut of the sport’s multi-faceted pursuits. If you are a boulderer, trad climber, alpinist, or peak bagger, there is a story for you.