Resting can be one of the most difficult parts of rock climbing. When on a trip, there’s always a need to take a day or two off to let your muscles rest and recover. For obsessive climbers, finding ways to keep yourself busy during rest days can be brutal. Below are a few tips.
Hayden Kennedy reads during a rest day in the desert
Clean Up Your Act
Many climbing areas, like Squamish, Moab, and Mesquite, have recreation areas where you can purchase a shower, sit in a sauna, or swim in a pool. Besides rec area, showers are often available at local gyms or hostels. There’s hot springs around Bishop and Mickey’s Beach as well as vapor caves outside of Rifle. Find the local swimming holes if you want to save a few dollars but still smell rustic. Bathing helps heal the inevitable small abrasions that occur while at the crag or in the boulders. If you’ve been climbing long enough to take a rest day, then you probably have some dirty clothes. Finding a Laundromat with Wi-Fi, laundry detergent, and all of the dirty socks in your car can take upwards of eight hours. Beyond the laundry, clean out your car, organize your tent and camping area. Sort out your rack, collect your draws, and cut the ends of your rope if needed. Buy groceries, chalk, and climbing tape.
When you woke up, you probably made a slow breakfast, then hit the coffee shop or library. The rest day Internet sessions can last anywhere from two to fifteen hours. Be prepared to find the ends of the information superhighway. Update your Facebook status with a list of things you’ve climbed. Upload pictures. Find out who’s heading to the crag in the next few days. Ask your friends if they’ve climbed the routes you’ve been trying or if anyone has beta on a potential climb. Facebook can be an excellent resource for gathering beta and arranging partners. Make sure to contact your mom and tell her you love her. You never know when you might sprain your ankle, break a bone, and have to move back home. Plus, moms love to send care packages. Five-day-old brownies sent to general delivery in Leavenworth Washington still taste good.
Brittany Griffith does some stretching and band work out to rehabilitate her shoulder during a rest day in Indian Creek
Plan for the next climb
Take advantage of your day off by researching what you’ll do on your next climbing day. Devouring the guidebook for beta, finding the routes or problems you want to climb, and putting a rack together for tomorrow helps you climb more efficiently the next day. Finding partners for the next day and then prepping for the climbing can take a significant amount of time especially for longer routes. Make a tick list of the routes you want to climb while you are on your trip and schedule the days that you want to climb them. Account a few days for rain and bad weather. Prepare to make yourself as efficient as possible for the next day of climbing.
Alex Honnold takes an active rest day by hiking up the top of the Sentinel in Yosemite
Take An Active Rest Day
Heading out for a hike or a run can be a great way to recover. While some climbers abhor any exercise that isn’t directly related to climbing, getting a bit of physical activity can provide an opportunity to find new boulder problems, figure out approaches to long routes and provide a bit of fitness. Use the run or hike as an opportunity to stretch sore muscles. Heading to the boulders to brush holds, or to the crag to look at routes, can provide an excellent diversion for a few hours. Scoping out the descent route can also keep you from having an enormous epic.
Check Facebook Again
Something must have changed in the past five minutes to warrant you checking. Your fifth grade elementary school teacher probably updated their status. If Facebook offers little entertainment, read through past Touchstone blog posts, check Climbing.com for the latest news, or fixate on your 8a.nu card. All of these websites offer great training posts on how to improve your climbing. Purchase new climbing shoes from one of the dozen of online climbing sites. While you’re on the Internet, look for a job. If you’re on the road long enough to take a rest day and not have to work, then you need a job.
Document Your Travels
One of the best parts of taking rest days is the amount of free time you have. Many climbers take the day to invest in their hobbies. Drawing, reading about, and taking photos of the area can be rest day activities. One of the best parts of climbing is the different areas of the world it takes to. Hueco offers petroglyph tours. Arches National Park sits just outside of Indian Creek. Dinosaur museums litter the towns around Ten Sleep Wyoming. Yosemite National park offers a ton of museums about glaciers and Native American history. Every climbing area has a unique culture and documenting it offers a great rest day activity.
Nothing beats a good rest day. Have fun, prepare for your next day of climbing, and relax. One of the best parts of being on a climbing trip is being able to sit back and enjoy it.
Climbing is the the heart and soul of Touchstone, and since we make a point to do what we love... We LOVE teaching people how to safely and efficiently climb. If you're new to roped climbing and want to get started, you've got a few options. Read on to find out which option is best for you!
#1. Come climbing with a friend!
Climbing is historically linked with a culture of mentorship. Way back when there were no climbing gyms, (gasp!) if you wanted to rock climb you typically went climbing with a mentor who would take you under their wing and show you the ropes. (yuk yuk yuk!) These days, teaching someone to climb is almost a right of passage. Someone taught your friend to tie a figure 8 knot, and now it is their duty as a conscientious climber to teach you.
Pros: Cheap. We give our members 2 FREE guest passes each month. One 'anytime' guest to use whenever they want and 1 pass on 'Member/Guest Night'. Shmooze your friend who has a membership to get them to use their guest pass and teach you to belay. You'll still need to pay for rental gear ($5), and probably owe your friend dinner.
Cons: Real Talk. Who knows if your friend is really such a great belayer!? Sure they might have climbed the rock wall at REI once, or belayed outside... But to know, is not to know how to teach. Too often a fun trip to the gym turns into hours of frustration.
#2. Take our Intro to Climbing Class
This is our most popular class, offered daily at every Touchstone Gym that has rope climbing. Be sure to check the calendar at your local gym to find out the daily schedule. In this 1 hour class you'll learn how to be a self sufficient climber and belayer in the gym. This means everything from securing the harness, to tying the figure 8 knot, to belaying your climber and lowering them down to the ground.
Pros: This is the perfect class for two people who want to climb the walls - NOW! The class lasts about an hour and is only a few bucks more than you would pay for a day pass. Once the class is done, you are free to practice your new found skills in the gym for the rest of the day. Also - it's FREE to members. Cha-ching.
Cons: Since there is a lot to teach in 1 hour, you typically wont have much time to learn about climbing technique. You'll be able to climb your heart out - but might be missing out on helpful tips and tricks that can make climbing way easier.
#3 Take our Intro to Climbing PLUS Class
This is a new class for Touchstone. Since the ICC class only offers safety and basic belaying skills, we wanted to give new climbers a little more CLIMBING instruction right off the bat. This way you build good habits from the very beginning. In the first hour you'll learn all the important stuff: belaying, knot tying, harness checking ext. Then, in the second hour you'll climb with the instructor to learn basic body positioning, hold recognition, footwork and more. This is a GREAT way to jump start your new climbing career/ hobby!
Pros: Not only do you get 2 hours of instruction from one of our dreamy staff members, you'll get a FREE day pass so you can come back to the gym within a week and climb again!
While traveling around North America climbing for the past thirteen years, I’ve hit a few speed bumps. Injuries, epics, and car troubles have hindered my climbing but the biggest hurdle I’ve faced is finding climbing partners. From bouldering in Hueco to climbing big wall routes in Yosemite, the need for climbing partners changes and who I’m willing to climb with varies greatly. Last minute partner bails or vacation time but no one to climb with should never stop you from going to the crag. Line up lots of people to climb with through a few of these tips.
A good spot will guarantee you have a partner
Get Involved in the Community
Meeting solid climbing partners involves putting yourself out there. Internet forums, bulletin boards at climbing areas, and message boards provide a way to troll for partners but finding a solid long term partner involves a little more personal effort. Beyond calling for a new partner over the climbing gym speakers, the Touchstone climbing competitions, Access Fund cleanups, slideshows, and events like the Yosemite Facelift offer perfect venues to meet and greet other climbers. The climbing gyms offer partner meet-ups as well. Meet other climbers and become a fixture in the climbing scene. While a boulderer may not want to climb El Capitan with you, they may know someone who will. Attending climbing events will facilitate introductions to new partners. Often, friends of other climbing partners make for good climbing companions.
Provide a Perfect Catch
A good climbing partner offers a solid belay or spot. Nothing beats a partner looking out for your safety. While climbing a sport route at Utah’s Wailing Wall, I broke a hold on a run out section of climbing. The rope went behind my leg and I rocketed towards the slab below. Joe Kinder caught my unexpected and brutal fall perfectly, preventing me from slamming my head into the rock. There’s little doubt that I’ll climb with Joe again. Having excellent belaying skill or providing an attentive spot go a long way with developing solid partnerships. Beyond being a solid belayer, know how to manage the rope, how to clean pro, and how to arrange pads well will guarantee you a partner. Work on your spotting, belaying, and trad climbing skills and any potential partner will be psyched.
Long term friendships can develop out of providing a good catch
When climbing with a new partner, be honest with your abilities. Hiking all the way out to the base of a long trad route and then learning your partner has never crack climbed can turn a casual climb into a total epic. Honesty helps us find better matches and keeps us safe. Let your partner know you’re experience. Just because you love to toprope and hate climbing anything higher than three feet, doesn’t make you a bad partner. That can be many climbers’ dream partner. Also, never overestimate another climber’s abilities. A 5.14 sport rock jock may be able to crush at Jailhouse but unable to climb Yosemite’s Serenity Crack. Begin by climbing conservatively and testing the water. Learn what your partner is comfortable with leading, following, spotting, or bouldering. Establish a solid reporte with any new partner.
Show up on time. Never flake. Be pleasant to be around. While these ideas seem basic, a surprising number of socially inept climbers forget these basic human concepts. Being a nice reliable person goes a long ways. Buying a huge trad rack, having a nice crash pad, or always driving to the crag are certainly nice but these things can be bought. Having a great personality and being agreeable can’t be. Being the ideal partner will insure that anyone who climbs with you will want to climb with you again.
There’s times when everyone seems busy and unable to get to the crag. Head out anyway. A short trip to the boulders may yield a life long friendship. At the very least, climbing is always fun and going out will show potential partners your level of commitment.
“To get to the top, untie, and watch the rope disappear over the edge is pretty special,” said Rick Miller. The 45 year old wood molding mill manager completed the first ascent of Lolita, a 150 foot 5.14b route at Jailhouse Rock in Sonora, California in late January.
Rosie Cahoon on the left and Rick Miller on the right top out the crag. Matt Pound photo.
Miller’s addition is the only the third route to top out the crag out and also the most difficult. In the world of sport climbing, most routes stop in the middle of the wall and the majority of sport climbers never summit the crag. Miller’s addition solidifies the concept of summiting even in sport climbing.
A 12 year Jailhouse climber, Miller began working the route in January of 2013 and redpointed a year after first bolting the overhanging basalt wall. Miller calls the route “working man’s 5.14b” and described the top of the ampitheatre saying, “The climbing at the top isn’t physically as challenging- it’s a mental game to not blow it.”
One of California’s best sport crags, Jailhouse remained locked until 2010 when the Access Fund negotiated with landowners for public access. Jailhouse boasts nearly a hundred climbs from 5.11d to 5.14d with the average route clocking in at 5.13c. Located two hours east of San Francisco and two hours west of Yosemite, the crag sets the standards for northern California sport climbing.
Miller after summiting U-Haul 5.14b
“The only way to rock climb is to walk off the top,” said Mike Kerzhner. In the spring of 2011, Kerzhner bolted the 145 foot 5.14a U-Haul, the second route to top out at Jailhouse. “That applies to bouldering, sport, and trad.” Reaching the summit is gives people a deep sense of fulfillment and also an opportunity to enjoy the area surrounding them.
"This crag is kind of unique in that the top out is so beautiful," said Rosie Cahoon, who recently topped out the crag via the 5.13b route Three Strikes. "The strange rocky landscape and the horses that hang out on top make it really special."
Kerzhner, Miller, and other Jailhouse climbers plan to continue extending routes at Jailhouse to the top.
By: Georgie Abel
It's summertime in Berkeley. I sit in the hot living room of my friend's apartment, the overhead fan creates a weak breeze. We are watching Reel Rock 7, I'm missing Bishop like crazy and getting inspired and terrified by Alex Honnold's first ascent of Too Big To Flail: a micro-crimpy, foot-work intensive highball in the Buttermilks. I start to wonder if "highball" is an appropriate term when talking about a climb that's 50 feet tall.
Well, that's never gonna be repeated. Joe tilts his beer back, finishing off the last sip.
Someone will do it, I say.
Oh yeah? Who?
Someone. I don't know who. Maybe we don't know their name yet, I reply.
A year and a half later I find myself shlepping crash pads and encouragement up to the Luminance boulder so that professional climber, Ethan Pringle, and some 19 year old Cal student named Steven Roth can try to bag the third and forth ascents of Too Big To Flail.
The afternoon before, the pair threw a rope down the thin line of the boulder's North face and took turns sussing out the moves. They shouted words of positivity to each other from the ground as they broke the climb into different sections. Their beta was vastly different for some moves and identical for others, but neither Ethan or Steven looked like they were having to try all that hard to pull the sequences. It was obvious to everyone that for them, sending Too Big would mostly be a matter of just going for it.
Neither of them are a stranger to highballs--Ethan has ticked countless airy Buttermilk classics including Evilution (Original Exit), This Side of Paraside, and The Beautiful and Damned. As for Steven, on the weekends when he doesn't have to teach Intro to Climbing Clinics at Berkeley Ironworks, he quietly climbs some of Bishop's proudest lines like Ambrosia, Rise, and Footprints.
Ethan on This Side of Paradise. Photo credit: Damn Corso
Steven on Ambrosia.
I reach into the bottom of my pack, fishing for my headlamp. The sun dropped behind Mount Tom an hour ago. Ethan lowers Steven to the ground after his last burn, he unties as he looks up at the green and yellow lichen-streaked face.
Cool, Steven says. I'm gonna do this thing tomorrow.
Nice dude, Ethan says. I can tell Ethan isn't sure at this point if he'll go for it without a rope, otherwise he would have said so.
After dinner we drive to the Thunderbird hotel. I'm wondering how it doesn't smell like feet or a barn or a dumpster considering there's four boys in here. We huddle around a laptop and watch the teaser footage from Alex Honnold's latest solo of El Sendero Luminoso in Mexico.
Holy s---, Ethan says.
Holy f---- s---, I say.
This is awesome. But he's fine, he's on a slab, Steven says. I shake my head and laugh a little.
I envision the eve of a big, committing send to go something like this: eat a salad, do yoga, mentally rehearse the moves on the climb. Ethan is pretty much doing that, minus the salad, but it's clear that the route is on his mind. He's still undecided about whether he'll go for it ropeless, wondering if he's ready, if it's worth it, if going for it means he's being reckless or impatient.
I'll have to see how it goes tomorrow. I want to do it clean on a rope a couple times before I decide, Ethan says.
But for Steven, this night is different. He's putting off doing his thermodynamics homework by showing us videos of cats with very short legs. You guys have to see this, Steven says. They're called dwarf kittens! They're soooo cute. Oh wait! Type in "munchin scurry!" It's just a whole page of dwarf kitten GIFs! Anthony and I exchange a look and laugh immediately. No seriously! You guys are gonna love this. I want one as a pet so bad!
Wes puts his palm to his forehead.
Come onnnnnn, Steven says, drumming his fingers as the page fights to load with the weak internet connection.
There are no thoughts of the climb, no reconsidering his decision to go for it tomorrow, no wondering if he'll pitch from the top, no phone calls made to acquire more crash pads. Tonight, Steven's mind is on the homework he'll have to do on the car ride back to the Bay and dwarf kitten adoption possibilities.
We wake up the next morning to mild, almost warm weather in town--uncharacteristic of February in the Eastern Sierras. Ethan and I head over to our friend's house and grab several crash pads, we have to rearrange them a few times to make them all fit in the Honda Element. After the bumpy ride up Buttermilk Road, we park at the Birthday boulders and sit in the car for a moment. I look out at Buttermilk country. It's bright and sunny just like it was in Bishop, but there is evidence everywhere of strong winds--a whooshing sound coming from the car windows, crash pads being lifted up and carried into the sage brush, some dude running after a plastic grocery bag up by Iron Man Traverse.
Sending temps, Ethan says to me. This is the first time he has even slightly suggested that he may be considering going for Too Big To Flail at some point today.
We meet up with the rest of the group and drive over to the Luminance parking lot. Four cars, about 15 crash pads, eight people to carry them. We strap pads together and hike up to the boulder, confident that we'll be seeing at least one attempt of one of Bishop's proudest lines. The wind sprays sand into my face and my crash pad catches a gust. I fight to keep my balance, to stay standing.
Ethan and Steven rope up again. This time they try the route starting from the ground on top rope, trying to link the entire climb without any falls. They both successfully do so about three times. In the background, the rest of us jabber on about mindless subjects like poop and protein powder, assuming Ethan and Steven would each spend another hour or so top roping. Little do we know that Steven is about to go for it.
We duck behind boulders so we're out of the photos that Anthony is shooting from up the hill, and as Steven takes off his harness we're all still arguing about how many times a day a healthy person should poop. The boys say three, minimum. Heather and I say once. But then he chalks up. He looks up at the line. He climbs up the small boulder to reach the start holds. As soon as his feet leave the ground, we are all quiet for the first time the entire weekend. I hear Mike swallow hard, he turns away. I can't watch this, Mike whispers. My stomach tightens as Steven balances through the opening sequence.
Steven pulling through the first section.
The thing I remember most was the silence. How even scratching the back of my hand felt disruptive.
The wind starts to pick up as Steven comes into the rest. He adjusts his feet, reaches behind his back and dips a hand into his chalk bag. A stream of chalk twists into the wind. He reaches far to the right for the next crimp, his left hand follows. He climbs out of the rest. The higher he climbs the stronger the wind grows. He finishes the section of three long moves in a row, the wind is now coming in steady gusts, strong and unannounced. His signature Jimmy Newtron hair is matted down to one side. His Ironworks Belay Staff hoodie puffs up like a sail. He's about thirty five feet from the ground.
Steven, high and battling the wind.
I wonder if the wind will blow him off the wall. I wonder if he realizes how committed he is right now. I wonder if he's scared. I wonder how he climbs something this tall, this hard, in these conditions, with seemingly no consideration of not climbing it.
Soon, he's pulling through the delicate moves close to the top of the boulder. His pace is faster than it was through the first three quarters of the climb but he looks secure and steady. A few crimps later, he gains the last hold, a huge jug on the boulder's lip. Steven stands on top of the boulder that Bishop's hardest and highest lines call home, and he has just done the third ascent of Too Big To Flail. We all hoot and holler and clap, abruptly breaking the silence. Steven smiles, he's quiet and stays atop the boulder for just long enough to pose for a celebratory picture before heading over to the down climb.
Steven on top of the Luminance boulder after sending Too Big To Flail. Photo credit: Wes Miraglio.
The boys exchange high fives with Steven, I hug the everliving daylights out of him. Eventually we quiet down from the excitement of the send, and soon it becomes apparent to everyone that it's time for Ethan to decide if he's going to go for it or not.
I sit next to Ethan, we both look at the climb. It starts to rain, steady for just a few minutes and stops. Off and on. The weather is good and then bad. The wind blows and then its calm. Every few moments, Ethan takes a deep, loud sigh. That's when you know he's really thinking hard.
How do you feel? Gonna give it another lap on TR? Or are you ready now? I ask.
I don't know. Honestly, seeing Steven do it doesn't really make super eager to climb it. This is really serious.
Yeah. Well, just go have fun. But be safe, I say. Thanks, he says. I'm gonna run up the hill to stay warm. Ethan takes off up the gravely slope. We all know the actual purpose of this run is to make his decision.
His struggle is this: he knows that he is more than physically capable to do this climb. But is now the right time? He has every excuse not to go for it today--the wind, the rain, his feet hurt, he's getting cold, he can't feel his fingers, maybe he needs more crash pads, maybe he should rehearse a few more times on top rope, maybe he should just call it good and find another project because crimping isn't what he's best at anyway.
The sky is inked with dark rain clouds as the afternoon storm rolls in. Ethan jogs back down the hill. He walks to the base of the boulder, slips on his shoes and straps his chalk bag to his waist. He climbs up the small boulder to gain the start holds, leaving his harness sitting on the ground.
He's going for it.
He exhales audibly and pulls on to the face. Slowly he shifts through the first moves, deliberate and slow. He pauses sightly after each move. After a few moments, he makes it to the rest.
Ethan, just before the rest.
Ethan stands in the rest for a long stretch of time. He takes off his hat and it slowly flutters to the ground. He presses his fingers to the back of his neck as to warm them, shifts his weight left and then right, takes several full breaths. After a few minutes he looks up at the rest of the climb. He chalks up and keeps climbing.
Traverse right to a good hold. Pause. Exhale. The insecure slopey foot move. Pause. Move to gain the better foothold. Big move, big move, big move. Exhale. Getting close to the top. 5.12 slab climbing section. Trust. Move. Breathe.
Ethan pulling through the middle section. Photo credit (middle photo): Wes Miraglio.
He climbs with such great attention that he notices small raindrops landing on his next hand hold.
40 feet from the layered crash pads, he reaches high and pauses with his palm just skimming the rock, mid-move. He is still for a full breath. My jaw clenches. He finishes the move, balances through the finishing section, and soon his hand is on the line's only jug. The silence breaks again. YEAH! We yell. Ethan rocks over the lip of the boulder, screams and puts his arms into the air. The wind pushes him back forcefully, he looks alarmed as he regains his footing. He yells down to us. I almost just got blown off the top!
Ethan smiles so big that his eyes squint. He takes his time on top of the Luminance boulder, shouts some more, but eventually the strong winds persuade him to down climb.
I remember the drive out of the Buttermilks that day, how I looked out at the Whites and thought about both of the boys up there, how they each stood on top of that boulder in such different ways. Everything was varying--the mental preparation, the struggle or lack of struggle with the decision to go for it, their attitude about climbing something that committing, the way they climbed, their reaction to sending. But it was the same climb, the same day, they took almost the same number of top rope rehearsals and they both eventually sent.
It worked because both Steven and Ethan trusted their own unique processes. There was no question in either of their minds that perhaps they should be going about this whole thing more like the other one. They weren't acting like anyone else up there. And that is why they both ended up sending one of the tallest, hardest boulder problems in the world, Too Big To Flail.
Steven, before hiking to the climb, carrying four crash pads and probably dreaming of dwarf kittens. Photo credit: Ethan Pringle
*All photo credit goes to Georgie Abel unless otherwise noted.
Trip Report: In defense of Joshua Tree
By: Georgie Abel
I hold a tangle of quick draws at my side and use my other hand to shade my eyes as I look up at the rock. I squint, scanning the line for anything that catches the sun, that shines, that's metallic.
Hey dude will you check the guidebook for how many bolts this climb has? I can see two but there's gotta be more. This thing's like a hundred feet.
He flips through the guidebook and eventually stops. His brow furrows as he brings the page closer to his face and laughs a little, letting out a single "ha".
You're right. There are more. His scabbed finger points to the route description. Three bolts George. 90 feet.
I look down at my harness, a few stray quick draws still hang from my gear loops after cleaning the previous climb. I set the bundle of gear on a small rock, and my stomach telescopes as I remove all but five quick draws from my harness. Suddenly I crave the heaviness on my hips of a full, noisy rack.
Hopefully there's a bolted anchor up there. Otherwise you're carrying two too many draws--so much extra weight! He laughs again, this time louder.
I appreciate his joke but also become aware that it's threaded with a serious warning: this climb is run out. Like, really run out.
I got it. It's a 10c. I convince myself that I'm doing a good job of appearing fearless.
Alright. Have fun. I got you. He squeezes the carabiner with his hand and its gate doesn't open. Locked and loaded, he says.
This climb marked the first step on my ongoing quest of understanding why everyone hates climbing in Joshua Tree.
I know very few people who actually love the climbing in Josh, and they tend to either be 1. old men or 2. a little weird. Usually they are both of those things. Rarely are they 25 year old females, and rarely are they professional climbers, but two of the people who I know that are Josh-lovers fall into those categories. I'm talking of course about me and my boyfriend. He is the professional climber:
Ethan on Iconic Strength, Wonderland North, Joshua Tree. Photo credit: Robert Miramontes
Ethan on the second ascent of Iron Resolution, Real Hidden Valley, Joshua Tree. Photo credit: Damon Corso.
And this is me:
Me on the approach to Crest Jewel Direct, North Dome, Yosemite Valley. Photo credit: Ethan Pringle
So, according to my above proclamation, since neither Ethan or myself are number 1's (old men), that must mean that we are number 2's (weird). Maybe so. But all of this really well-researched science and math doesn't answer my question or help me fully understand why Joshua Tree is, arguably, one of the most hated climbing destinations in the world.
Maybe hate is a strong word, but it does say this on one of the first pages of the guidebook: some climbers hate Josh. And I believe it. Even before I had been to Joshua Tree myself, I heard horror stories of crazy accidents, top rope panic attacks, and grown men crying on 5.9. These were the kinds of things I was told whenever I asked someone if they wanted to go down there with me. Or, they would rattle off a long list of excuses: the boulders are too high and the routes are too short, the climbing is too spread out and we'll probably get lost, the cracks aren't splitter and the sport climbing is too run out, it's always windy and driving down I-5 sucks. Oh, and everything is sandbagged.
This is usually the point in the conversation when I say, yeah, you're totally right, so when do you wanna leave?
That one time I had to aid the first 20 feet of a 5.11a on The Lost Pencil, Geology Tour Road, Joshua Tree. Photo credit: Ethan Pringle
What's even more surprising to me than Joshua Tree's bad reputation is the lack of climbers who have actually been there. Even well-rounded and well-traveled climbers don't seem to make it out to Josh these days. I don't know why.
It took some convincing (babe, my Dad has a house in Rancho Mirage with a hot tub) and a little guilt-tripping (I'm sick of sitting on the valley floor while you climb El Cap) to get Ethan to agree to a Joshua Tree trip. I've never roped up down there, he said. Only bouldered. But I do love it, it's probably my favorite place for bouldering.
Cool. Good answer.
Ethan on Slashface, Geology Tour Road, Joshua Tree.
As we drove down I-5 I told Ethan the story of the 90 foot line with 3 bolts that I climbed a few springs back. What I remember the most from that climb was an overwhelming awareness of not having the option to fall. That was a feeling I hadn't experienced before. Even on multi-pitch trad climbs, highball boulder problems, or somewhat run out sport routes, falling is never ideal, and you might even get hurt, but it's still a reasonable last resort. But on many of the climbs in Joshua Tree, falling is out of the question entirely because of extreme run outs, tall boulders, or very bad terrain/landings.
Uh.. we got you bro?
Ethan on So High, Real Hidden Valley, Joshua Tree. Photo credit: Damon Corso
So if falling is not an option, this causes a few other things to occur. First off, if you want to project something (ground up), the option to fall needs to be available. Onsighting is simply what has to happen on most routes in Josh, and this pisses people off. Onsight climbing is just not of this time. These days, climbers like to try things over and over again in a way that is relatively safe (see: Iron Man Traverse). Most of us like to climb routes that are at or even way past our physical limits, and often in Joshua Tree that would not be considered projecting, it would be a death wish. And then there is, of course, the massive amount of fear that comes along with mandatory onsighting.
Ah, the joys of well-protected sport climbing:
Me on July Jiihad, Ten Sleep, Wyoming. Photo credit: Joe Bakos
And then, there are the grades. You're a responsible adult so you conservatively decide to get on a 5.10 because hey, you one hung that 5.12 in the gym last week. But then all of the sudden you find yourself trying really hard. And you're about half way up that 90 foot climb and you've clipped one draw. Now you're scared. The next section is completely blank. The next bolt is just a glimmer in the distance. So you quietly but most definitely proceed to freak the hell out.
But on second thought, maybe it isn't the grades. I honestly don't feel that Joshua Tree is sandbagged. It's the climbing. It's like nowhere else. Spending hours in the gym won't help you. I don't think you can train anywhere but Joshua Tree if you want to climb well in Joshua Tree. Unless you're Ethan, then you can onsight things like Equinox without ever having roped up there before. But I'm not talking about him. I'm talking about us, the common folk.
Ethan on Equinox, Geology Tour Road, Joshua Tree.
The climbing mimics the desert landscape upon which it is set. It's exposing and airy. There is nothing straightforward or easily fathomable about it. You'll look up at a move and deem it impossible, but then once you try, once you just start to move, the sequence starts to unlock. You must be creative. Even what appears to be a straight-forward crack can be broken, varied, and inconsistent in size.
This causes some pretty obscure body position and movement.
Me, the day I learned how to smear with my cheek on Stem Gem, Hidden Valley Campground, Joshua Tree. Photo credit: Chris Daulton
Ethan on an unknown problem, The Underground, Joshua Tree. Photo Credit: Damon Corso
The shapes that your body must take to move on these rocks blatantly resemble the iconic Joshua trees that give the national park its name. This creates movement that is much different from that of the more favored climbing destinations. It isn't flashy like the overhanging jug hauls at the Red, it's not glorious like the water-polished big walls of Yosemite, and it's definitely not sexy like the straight-in jamming of Indian Creek splitters.
All of this tends to make people a little angry.
But this is exactly the kind of climbing that we need to be doing. The overhanging glory jugs, the lowball traverses, the straightforward splitters--these things are all good, and they should be climbed, but I don't think we learn half as much from them. The kind of climbing that actually teaches us lessons of value, about our ego and how to be honest/kind/all that other good stuff, is the climbing that's bold, thought-provoking, and humbling.
Can't be too cocky when you fall off a v1:
Me on an unknown climb, Hidden Valley Campground, Joshua Tree. Photo Credit: Chris Daulton
I'm a yoga teacher and a bay area native so I'm a sucker for this kind of stuff.
My fingertips won't stop sweating. I slowly reach behind my back to dip my hand in my chalk bag, praying the movement won't cause my smeared feet to blow. One draw clipped, 20 feet below. After ten minutes of attempted crimping, I finally accept that I do not have any hand holds. My breath is rapid and choppy. Just climb, I say out loud. This is my only option, so I start to move. One foot and then the other. Pushing with my hands instead of pulling. Trusting my feet and breathing like a yoga teacher would. After a few shaky moves, I start flowing and the climbing feels like its 5.10c grade. I am no longer under the control of thoughts about the rope, bolts, or lack of quick draws on my harness. I just climb. I climb to the top.
'Free' is a good word to describe the way climbing in that desert makes me feel.
Me hiking back from The Lost Pencil, Geology Tour Road, Joshua Tree. Photo credit: Ethan Pringle
So, if I may leave you with my humble opinion: go climbing in Joshua Tree. Get scared. Flail on 5.9. Wish you were in Indian Creek. Make sure that cute girl knows you send 5.12 in Red Rocks. Get lost. Round up ten crash pads to try a v3. Get super annoyed by the wind. Hike for an hour to do one climb. Hike back to the car because the first gear is 20 feet up. Don't project. Don't fall. Don't have any idea how to do Stem Gem.
This is the kind of climbing that our community needs: the kind that humbles us, that makes us brave, that makes us less of an asshole when we get back home.
See ya in the desert!