And, perhaps more importantly, don’t bullshit the people who have entrusted their life to your hands.  It sounds harsh, but the title is a phrase we use in the gym a lot.  Usually it is said in relation to the integrity of the training done, or when it becomes tempting to believe that you cannot accomplish a task that is well within your capabilities.  Sometimes, I think of it in relation to things that I want to do, yet deep in my heart I realize are not yet possible.

I arrived in Yosemite valley on Sunday night, just in time for a spectacular sunset and my first glimpses of this amazing granite playground.

Optimistic on arrival.

I felt fortunate to reconnect with my friend Barry whom I met in Moab, UT a few weeks ago, and we quickly made plans to climb the Kor-Beck route on Middle Cathedral on Thursday.  The route went well, and I felt confident on my first few leads in the valley (yes, this is the same Layton Kor that put up the route on Castleton Tower from a few weeks ago).  Despite our success on the route, my foot still commanded enough attention that I wasn’t able to complete the 6 pitches without painkillers.

Not a bad view off the belay.

Barry, on the way down.

Friday I linked up with another Australian named Kim for a round of harder single pitch climbing.  I was actually more pleased with falling off the crux of “Stone Groove” well above my last nut, and taking 3 whippers before giving the lead up to Kim.  Traditionally I’ve had trouble falling on my gear- I have trouble trusting it, but recently I’ve felt much more confident in my placements.  That said, I was a bit rattled at the hard start to the day, and Kim was psyched to lead several more hard pitches, so I enjoyed following and working on my crack technique.  Still, by the fifth pitch, my left foot was so painful I was unable to jam it into the right facing crack (which typically demands left foot jams), and I suspect Kim was a little bewildered at the trouble I had climbing 3 grades below my limit.  I wasn’t interested in more painkillers, and Kim wasn’t interested in watching me suffer.  He and I discussed the situation, and took a rest while I soaked my feet in the Merced River.  Late in the day Kim and I found one more irresistable 5.11a at Cookie Cliff, which Kim lead brilliantly, and didn’t require more than scant use of my left foot.

Getting after it by any means necessary, thanks for the rope Kim.

This morning Barry, Aaron (a new friend from Bishop, CA), and I went out to a practice crag just next to the campground.  My foot was still swollen from the previous exploits, and my hands were cut and bruised from two days of jamming without tape (the best way to build callouses).  We top roped a flaring handcrack, and on my second insecure lap, I accidentally dropped in a solid left foot jam.  The pain was excruciating and the end of climbing today was obvious.

My friends at least, know how to have fun.

And so, when Steve-O arrived full of psyche and energy, I knew I could not bullshit myself- or him.  I cannot offer any level of reasonable partnership to my friend in going up the Salathe route on El Cap.  Were my foot in good health, I would, but as it stands it’s a liability to me, and to Steve-O.  It’s been 2 months and 3 days since my surgery, and when he first invited me on the route, I had hoped it would be healed by now.  It’s not and despite the tremendous commitment and energy I have put into being here right now, that forces me to reconsider my agenda.  It would be irresponsible to myself and my friend to try to “make it happen.”  Thanks to my brother for some excellent advice in thinking this through, and to Steve-O for being an incredibly understanding partner.  Suddenly, doing the Salathe route becomes a much higher priority for another time in my life.

Staring down the fact that I'm not as put together as I'd like.

Some part of me regrets not making this call earlier, regrets not being more honest with myself and my friend, not being more careful about my recovery and about having arranged my trip to this point to be able to be here, now for this event that will not be happening.  I’m still squaring with this change in plans, but it feels good to be honest with myself, and to allow Steve-O the option of greater success.  I’m resting today, and may climb the next few as I’m able.  Stay tuned for more plans.

3389-1 is the file name of the first photo I took after returning to Talkeetna, Alaska after climbing Denali in 2009.

3389-1. After 17 days on Denali, everything was stripped away.

My friend Pat took one look at this photo, and inadvertently described something that I had not been previously able to  identify. He identified the reason that some of us climb, run, cycle, ski, or otherwise push our bodies to the brink of failure and minds to the brink of breakdown.  Why we are, ‘here for the hard‘.  It doesn’t matter if I’m not climbing the hardest or scariest lines in the world- I do the things that challenge me because they strip away the baggage that prevents me from feeling at peace.  I know when I have done something meaningful because the baggage is gone- and consequently, I know when I have cheated myself, when I have failed to do something meaningful, because afterwards the baggage remains.  As this blog, and this journey is about letting go of the baggage, this is why I look forward to the physical challenges that lie ahead.

Although the past few weeks have been both fun and challenging- by in large they have failed to strip away some of the baggage I’ve been holding on to.  Standing on Castleton Tower last Friday reminded me of this process, and released a touch of the feeling I’m trying to stick.  It’s time to look for more.

Shortly after arriving in Bishop, California a few weeks ago I received a text message from a friend in Portland looking for a climbing partner. The Salathe Wall on El Capitan in Yosemite National Park has been called ‘the greatest rock climbing route in the world.”  It is orders of magnitude more serious than anything I have ever attempted.  My partner is aware of my limited abilities with respect to an objective like this and accepts my limitations.  It’s an opportunity not to be missed.  We’re planning to take the 3,100 vertical foot route between May 10-14.  I’m headed to Yosemite Valley tomorrow morning to start getting used to the flaring granite cracks that have shaped the sport of rock climbing for the last 50 years.

Courtesy of supertopo.

Truth be told I’m scared.  This might be more than I can chew.  This might be beyond what I am looking for.  I may not be ready to let go of the baggage that the Salathe will strip away from me.  I made a commitment to my partner and friend to support him, and in leaving my comfortable life in Portland, I made a commitment to myself to challenge the notion of what baggage I was willing to let go of.  I don’t feel prepared.  The climbing I’ve been doing the past few weeks hasn’t been particularly applicable to the climbing I am about to do other than acclimating my body to climbing as the primary activity of my life, rather than say sitting at a desk.  I’ve been concerned about my preparation for this, and concerned about the consequences of failure.  At this point, I’ve committed to my partner, and committed to myself, even if there are still lingering doubts in my head.  At the moment, I’m planning to be solo for the 8 hour drive north tomorrow, which should give me some good time to reflect on what and why I’m going to do this climb.  I’ll get back to you all once I hopefully have a little more clarity on the issue.

Often, we climbers get fairly caught up in what grade we are climbing.  It’s a number that we use to describe our level of skill (“oh what grade do you onsite?”), judge the difficulty of other’s accomplishments, or use to simply describe a route (it was grade IV, 5.10c, 15 pitches). Today I was able to on-site more pitches of 5.10d and 5.11a in a single session of climbing than ever before in my climbing experience.  I had an awesome and fun day of pushing myself with a great partner, and yes, certain baggage was stripped away.  I left the crag feeling stronger and more confident in my climbing than I have in a long time.  Yet yesterday I did something that was just as meaningful to me.  We were climbing in a new single pitch area, and I climbed a route originally put up by John Bachar, which he rated 5.8.  The current guidebook says 5.10a.  There were no bolts on the route and no anchors at the top, the climb was 100% traditional, and provided a “full value” adventure.  When John joined me at the belay, we both agreed it was one of the hardest pitches of 5.10 either of us had ever climbed.

The point is, the grade doesn’t matter, the experience does.  I feel as proud of that lead as I do of the many technically “harder” leads I have completed thus far, even though it was a single 100′ pitch on a crag 10 minutes from the road.  My experiences on this climbing experience thus far (included my roadtrip, past climbing seasons, and many gym sessions) have all served a single purpose- to strip away that baggage, and to practice doing so on a regular basis.  I need this lesson now more than ever.  I respect the value in what I have done to date, and I expect that will sustain me as my own horizons broaden.  I sincerely appreciate the readership of this blog as it supports my mission.

Letting go of the baggage, and getting airborne at Red Rocks, NV. Photo by Jordan Siemens Photography LLC

“Often, the most important thing we can do, is simply ‘recognize that we are all in love with our own suffering’ (Andrew Given)… …We should take care to utilize our own mental suffering to strip away our unnecessary thoughts as well.”

A Picture of My Life – 12.15.2010

To suffer is to allow the unimportant baggage to be stripped away.  I expect I will suffer in the coming experience, and it will be invaluable.  Thanks for the lesson Mr. Given.