2008 B-sides and Rarities

As in past years, I write up mini reports when the trip is modest or I don't have time for a full-blown expose.

Coors Light Ice Climbing - January 5 Lots of Running - January 13, 20, 27 Climbing the Cone - February 2 Back in the Saddle - March 15 Early Season at the 'Voo - April 19 An Epic Averted - May 10

Ski Now, Pay Later - June 14 An Alpine Trifecta - July 12 Coal Creek Crossing 10 miler - August 31 One Last Mountain Run - Sept 13 Birthday Climbng Extravaganza - Oct 29

I haven't been on ice since last March and my New Year's resolution is "Climb More". Thus I jumped at the chance for some mellow ice cragging with the Stupid Brutes. We headed up to Clear Creek Canyon to Coors Light, a series of short falls a mellow quarter mile from the car. Fabio, Scott and I headed up first to set top ropes on some routes. Eventually, we were joined by Andy, Jeff, Brian and Eric. We set two ropes on the upper falls; a 25' vertical cascade with two pillars, and a single rope on the long, three-tiered lower falls. Temperatures were mild and the ice was nicely plastic. Picks went in without much trouble and the ice, though hacked up pretty well, was fat enough for newbs like me.

Jeff starts up the lower falls with the infamous Chicken Screamer (tm)

Myself climbing the lower falls. Photo by Scott Borger

I've been slowly working up the nerve to try my first ice lead but have been stymied by changing gear and unoptimized systems. My "new" bent shaft Black Prophets performed wonderfully, but the BD leashes I was using were really getting in the way. After one climb, I took them off and tried the leashless thing--wonderful! It's a bit harder on the arms, but at the level I'm likely to be climbing, that shouldn't be much of a problem. I'll have to come up with some sort of tether system before climbing anything big and/or committing (a dropped axe would be disasterous), but it was much more natural than having to mess with wrist leashes all the time.

After making four laps on the upper falls, we wandered down to the lower falls and tried that. I did a mock lead (placing screws on top rope) and feel pretty confident that I could now lead that route. Next time! For now, it was great to get out for a casual and productive day of ice climbing with a bunch of convivial folks. By noon, the ice was gushing with water from screw holes and melting, so we packed up and headed for Neptunes and Southern Sun.

Fortunately, a lot of us Special Idiots are running this race, so there is lots of interest in training. During the month of January, I got in weekly 20+ mile training runs. First up, fresh off most of a week at Sea Level, was a beautiful 21 mile group run at the great Devil's Backbone Open Space from Loveland to Ft. Collins and back. We had 13 people show up including a number of people I'd never met and some old friends from last season. The trail was pretty rough in places, but mostly clear of snow and ice and quite interesting throughout. For January, I felt pretty good, but I was pretty hammered by the time I got back to the car.

Chris runs the first mile of trail at the impressive Devil's Backbone.

Clem, Pete, and the rest of the crew running along at mile 6.

The next week, I embarked on a solo run at Teller Farm with an additional loop on the north end. Peter joined me for the first hour and his company was greatly appreciated. I spent the second and third hours running solo training for speed and distance. Total distance was 19.8 miles in just over three hours; a very fast pace for me for that long.

Finally was the big, double-long run, back up at Devil's Backbone. This time it felt a good deal better. We reached the Soderberg TH at mile 10.5 and had a refuel break at Alex's car (thanks!). Then we did a quick climb up Tower Road (1700' of climb in 3.5 miles) which reminded me that my elevation training hasn't been keeping up with my distance training. Finally, we headed back south with a detour over to Coyote Ridge. The last six miles were pretty much a death march and I arrived, solo, at the car totally depleted. Total elapsed was 30.7 miles in about seven hours.

With three weeks to go until Moab, I'll take it easier for a while and let the legs recover. I've run over 120 miles this month which is my second highest (barely!) monthly total in my two years of running. I'm pretty sure I can now handle the distance under race conditions, but it's still going to be a long time on the feet. As for the 50 miler in June... we'll have to see about that.

It was a great day of riding. I'd forgotten how much fun and how difficult it can be.

Early Season at the 'Voo

Vedauwoo, WY

April 19, 2008

A major Brute Stupidity expedition was planned for Vedauwoo. Fabio and I drove up for Saturday only, but many others were camping and climbing both days. Strangely, I was the most experienced Voo-climber going, so a lot of the planning fell on my relatively narrow shoulders. There was still quite a bit of snow in the shady areas, but the sun was hot and the rock pretty warm except in the deepest chimneys. Fabio and I showed up at 8:30 and met up with Scott, Rebecca, and Dan, heading to the sunny side of the Nautilus since it was close to the road, easy to find, and had an array of interesting climbs. We started by doing laps on the Etude slab (5.5) as the rest of the crew trickled in; Andy, Brian, Jeff & Dyan, Mike & Rachel, Cushman, and assorted offspring. With Andy belaying, Dan had himself an epic on the fiercely overhanging fist crack Flying Buttress (5.10b) while Fabio got stymied by the off-width crux of Stepladder (5.6).

After a quick lunch, the family-sorts headed out to set up camp and the climbers headed over to the NW side. We set up shop at Cornelius (5.5) where several people did leads of the excellant finger crack. No trip to the Voo would be complete without some off-width. Andy tackled Easy Jam (5.4) and several others did laps on it as well. Dan had himself another epic, this time on Hair Lip (5.9+), making it past the first rap station, but chickening out before reaching the official top of the route. Much to the surprise of all, I managed to thrash my way up to the first anchor to clean Dan's gear. It was a very physical climb requiring actual crack climbing skills, neither of which I have in abundance at the moment. Struggling upward, I realized that finishing the route would probably end my chances of climbing anything else for about a week. On the other hand, failing would probably result in the same outcome, so I might as well fight my way through it.

Dan having himself an epic on the Flying Buttress (5.10b) (photo by Scott Borger)

Yours Truly jamming like a mad man in Hair Lip (5.9+) (photo by Scott Borger)

Scott climbs Easy Jam (5.4). Cornelius is the finger crack to the right (photo by Fabio)

Tired from our route, Dan and I circumnavigated the Nautilus formation spying out nice-looking lines and then getting mired in the deep drifts on the north, shady side of the crag. By 4:30, we were all pretty tired. The gates were closed and the road to the main area blocked by extensive snow drifts. But we'd driven two hours each way, so the seven of us hiked in to see Walt's Wall and the other main features of the 'Voo. Dan, eager to not have an epic on something, scampered up the famous Edward's Crack (5.7) running out both pitches into one 70 meter push with about five pieces of gear. After some trepidation, Brian scampered up it and finished with a huge grin on his face. We then trudged back to the car and stopped by camp where the rest of the folks had established a homey presence.

It was tough to leave for the drive back, but leave we did, content in the knowledge that it had been a good, social day at the crags. I had a chance to tie in with some new folks and introduce a new batch of climbers to that unique style of climbing found at Vedauwoo.

Please see full trip report.

Ski Now. Bryan carves it up on Sundance.

This turned out to be the best possible combination of gear and my meager abilities. With the taper in full effect, I joined Eric, Chris, Bryan, and Kevin for a day of spring skiing on the Sundance Bowl in RMNP. We drove up Trail Ridge Road under gorgeous blue skies, parked at 12,000', and hiked a long, dangerous, and technically challenging quarter of a mile to the head of the snowfield. Kevin, like me, had never done this kind of thing before and we were both sporting our cheap-o resort skis and boots. Mine at least, had been manufactured in the last decade, but Kevin's were straight (in every sense of the word) out of the 20th century. We promised not to make fun, so that's all I'll say here except to say that his boots are pink and rear-entry.

The problem with Sundance is that it gets steeper the farther down you go so you can never see very far up or down the slope. Also the terrain gets steeper just as the snow is getting softer. However, the bigger problem is that your car is parked up above and you've got to hoof it up hill, toting skis, after every run, no exceptions. Ski now, pay later. The first run was wonderful. The snow up top was a bit icy, but I mustered what little technique I have and was soon enjoying sweeping turns on blue-equivalent terrain. We stopped often to take pictures of each other and the fantastic scenery. Lower down it started to get a little wiggy. The snow was getting pretty soft and the slope really steep; solid black diamond terrain for me. It's the kind of thing I could get down, but it's not much fun and I'd only have to hike back up anyway so what's the point?

Pay Later. Eric and Chris trudging up after our second run.

Kevin and I bailed out about 80% of the way down and started hiking up the eastern edge of the snowfield. Being newbies, we didn't really have a way to carry our skis either. I had rigged up a system of straps so that my skis could be worn like a backpack, then slung my pack (and requisite avy gear) over that. Kevin was having some trouble down below but he's an actual rocket scientist and I was confident he'd figure something. It wasn't comfortable, but I made decent progress kicking steps in the slush-on-ice slope in my heavy resort boots, wishing I'd brought my ice axe.

Impressive crags on the north side of Sundance Mountain.

Half way up, there was no sign of Kevin behind me. Since there are no friends on a powder day (or a spring conditions day), I continued up the 1500' of slope to the top, grabbed a bite to eat, and started my second run. This time, I'll only go half way down, I vowed, but it's so hard to stop when the skiing is so marvelous! Just one more turn! Finally, I pulled off on a grassy knoll a little more than half way down. Chris and Eric joined me for a quick lunch, then we all started the march back up.

There was still no sign of Kevin. Hopefully he hadn't plunged down to the bottom, gotten lost, or eaten by marmots or something. As I finally, sorely, reached the top again (ski boots really aren't made for this kind of thing!), there was Kevin, notably missing both skis and boots. It turns out he's strapped boots and skis to his pack and changed into hiking boots for the trip up. Somewhere in there, the skis had popped off and gone rocketing down the slopes to lodge in a group of rocks a few hundred feet below. Figuring that there was a decent chance he might do the same if he tried to downclimb, Kevin declared them a loss and kept climbing.

It's a shame about the skis, but they were pretty ancient. "At least they had a memorable last run," Kevin remarked. Grateful to be out of ski boots, we hiked back to the cars, then up the nearby Sundance Mountain to check out the dramatic couloirs and rocky fins on its north face. If the snow climbing is as easy-access as the skiing, I'll have to make a return trip one of these days.

All in all, it was a fine and novel mountain adventure.

Please see full trip report

It's always surprising to see 100+ runners turn out in the early morning for a small, local race like this. Louisville is a much bigger place than it feels and, being so close to Boulder, there are plenty of very active people. I met up with Chai and his coworker Matt at the start and we milled around for a while before the start. When the gun finally went off, we started at a good pace, running past the community park and then doing a 5k loop through the Warmeborg Open Space just south of my house. The course was mostly the crushed gravel of the Coal Creek Trail with occasional pavement stretches, well marked with mile-posts and numerous volunteers and water stops. I ran at an 8:10 pace for the first three miles (much faster than my usual 9+ plod), and wondered if I could maintain it for another seven miles on the out-and-back part of the course. It was quite a contrast to my last race

Things really opened up after a couple miles and, despite being in the middle of the pack, I was pretty much running by myself, occasionally reeling in and passing someone. At mile 6, the front-runners started passing me headed the other direction (the turnaround was at mile 6.5). To my limited surprise, Chai was flying along in second and breathing down the neck of the number one guy. I reached the turnaround and started back, sweating profusely and passing the half of the runners who were slower than my pace. Back up over the Aquarius hill with its spectacular view of the mountains and a fleet of hot air balloons launched from Boulder and drifting east. 1.5 miles to go. Feeling pretty fatigued, but still managing an 8:05 pace. Down the hill, one mile to go, time to hammer. I passed a few more people, then ran the last hundred yards at an all-out sprint. 1:20:45, 53rd place out of 128 starters. Not bad for a guy with a two-week-old kid whos run all of fifty miles in the last month.

Despite nearly not turning out, and then some serious pre-race sandbagging, Chai ended up winning the whole shooting match in 1:03:57. Not bad, sir! It was a nice race, very well organized with great volunteers. Plus it was really great to get out of the house and back to a somewhat-active lifestyle!

Fabulous views of Long and Brainard Lakes from the flanks of Niwot Ridge.

I was feeling pretty good once I reached Long Lake (10,500') and decided to extend my tour a bit with a quick out-and-back jaunt to Lake Isabelle, one of the most spectacular places in the Front Range. I had a memorable time camping there this spring, but thought it would be nice to see the lake in liquid form. Much to my surprise, the lake was gone! As far as I know, this is a natural lake, but the water level was 20' below normal, exposing a sea of ugly brown rocks and carved mud.

The startlingly drained Lake Isabelle.

Joining my sour thoughts were a suddenly sour stomach. What should have been a very casual jaunt down the popular trail to Brainard Lake turned into a shuffling slog not unlike the last ten miles of my last big mountain run. Time was getting on, so I opted for the quickest possible retreat: two miles of pavement on the Brainard Lake road followed by five on the Sourdough Trail back to the car. I managed to hitch a ride for a mile with a friendly Scottish couple which was a nice break even though it hurt my pride a bit.

Finally things started to improve in the last few miles of Sourdough. The scenery was still spectacular and I had the woods pretty much to myself. I've definitely lost whatever conditioning I had in three months of relative inactivity. Three months ago, this run would have been totally trivial, a couple thousand feet of gain, ankle deep snow, a score of miles... but now... wow! Still, it was definitely good for the soul to get out and see the mountains again. 19 miles with 3500' of elevation gain in 5:30.

It's been a very long time since I last climbed anything and my climbing stats for the year are pitiful. So in honor of our respective 36th birthdays, cognizant of the fact that we'd now been "adults" as long as we were ever kids, Eric and I played hooky from work to swing leads on a long and mellow rock climb. The weather was gorgeous as we hiked up the trail to the First Flatiron. I've climbed the First four times before, once by the Standard Route (5.6) and three times by the lovely Fandango (5.5). This time we tackled the former again, ten pitches with two distinct cruxes and a lot easy terrain in between.

Eric finishes P2 on a lovely fall day

Eric took the first pitch; extremely runout and smooth even for a flatiron. He took a while, but eventually arrived at the small tree ledge belay that marks the end of P1. I quickly came up remembering how slabby this route really is, then took the rack for P2, climbing casually on what I remembered bing easier, intentionally running out the rope. 50' above the belay, the going got tougher and I started thinking that maybe I should have put in some gear down below. Another 30 feet farther, I reached a rest stance and searched in vain for something, anything, to protect. Nothing! Move up another 20 feet. Getting desperate here! The best option was a #4 nut end placement in opposition against a manky 1/4" bolt stub. It might hold; then again, the Easter Bunny might fly overhead riding on a broomstick with Glinda the Good Witch and a couple of pygmy marmosets. Another 20' and I found a slightly better placement but was still in distinctly uncomfortable mental territory here.

Relaxing after the climb.

At the very end of my rope, in more ways than one, I finally got in some good gear and set up a belay. Eric came up, took over the lead for P3 through steeper but much more featured terrain. P4 was more of the same, but easier and I ran it out to the huge ledge half way up the face.

The day was lovely and warm and we had the rock essentially to ourselves. We were feeling mellow and the idea of another 5-6 pitches to the summit wasn't all that appealing. Instead of tackling the second crux pitch, Eric took us up to the Baker's Way ramp to the ridgeline. My memory was correct; there is a rap station there. After taking in the fabulous views of the Divide, we rapped out to the wild back side of the rock and hiked back around to the base.

It was a great day in the sun on the rock. I am reminded of the full mental landscape that is climbing. It is also really nice that Eric has totally come into his own and we can now climb together sharing the lead burden.

The Wilderness Journal

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