Take roads that you know not where they lead.

The edge of the map has always held a certain allure. In the old days, “there be dragons” denoted the unknown- inspiring visions of adventure and disaster lurking just beyond the edge. The edges still inspire me. The transitory regions between geography, or politics, or culture. For a bit, I played some music with a group calling ourselves “Border Affair”- we bent the edges of folk and country and acoustic jam. It’s an appropriate description for my affinity with the edges.

I’m in canyon country now. The journey here was varied, and for other reasons, stressful. Life in transition rarely goes according to plan. I enjoyed traveling off the beaten path some. Bear Lake sits well off the highway, half in Idaho, half in Utah. It was on my radar a few years ago for different reasons. I enjoyed a lovely vista and healthy run before continuing south.

First light at Yuba.

Yuba Lake State Park was unremarkable except for the fact that it sits on the southern edge of the Salt Lake City metropolis. A night there marked my transition from careful urban car camping to a more wild sense of living. Sparse country, not yet blistered with bands of red sandstone, but void of the evergreen Northwest I am accustomed to, this border marked more than just the urban/wild interface- it marked the transition of breathing, of hoping, of entering the awaited wilderness.

La Sal Mountains, Utah. Mountains + Canyons.

The airport code is SLO and it’s been a good place to be after a decided manic December. My grandmother was a really special woman- but our family is really spread out and it wasn’t possible to be together after she passed away last February. My family has been blessed with more than enough resources to have a beautiful time together.

Real slow.

Conveniently provided at our accommodation…

Aussie relatives note the entirely different night sky.

Going to get dinner.

Hearst Castle library. Absurd, but amazing.

Living fully often means filling every moment, but having some downtime is just as important. My family is as different as the geography that we inhabit, but a shared love for each other, and great food makes time together easy. Workouts with my nephews, talking business with my uncle and brothers, and music together with everyone are a perfect way to recharge for 2015 adventures.

Perfect weather.

Lots of eating. Lots.

Start them early!

Brothers. Strong.

Many thanks to Dustin for facilitating my Red Eye connection in Portland.

4am in PDX.

One of my favorite writer/climbers uses this term to describe “the state of being in between.” For me, liminal describes the delicate line that exists between having fun and pushing myself through fear, or pain, or stress to have deeply transformative experiences. Liminal is the feeling of walking the perfect, terrifying line between hanging on and falling off- and it’s really surprisingly fun.

I wasn’t feeling like climbing that hard in Squamish. I just couldn’t seem to find the extra mental fortitude to get on climbs with harder numbers on them. This blog started with a mantra “Let go of the baggage, and get the feeling to stick,” but I’ve been carrying some baggage for most of this summer. Before we left Washington, Dustin ran me into the ground before dinner one night, but we couldn’t leave it behind. Long days of driving, and time with some of the most amazing people in my life hasn’t been able to lift it. I won’t make excuses, I need to make some corrections, but pretending it isn’t there doesn’t serve anything. Climbing though has it’s own way of stripping it all away like nothing else can. I knew I wouldn’t feel right if I left Squamish without walking the liminal line.

First glance at the Buttress.

I spent 10 days in Squamish in 2010 and loved every minute of it, but at the end of a long day that June, I stood at the base of the crux pitch of “Squamish Buttress” (5.10c, 5 pitches) and handed over the lead to my friend Hans- only because I was scared to walk the line. This year, Ky drove up from Bellingham after work on Friday just as Dustin and Gaio had to head south again. We grabbed a few warm up pitches, and planned an epic Saturday.

Mr. Nayfield leads us up the start.

The Buttress is one of the last pitches on the way to the summit, so getting there means picking one of several other excellent routes to combine into a full day of climbing. One of the most vertical and direct preliminary routes is “Rock On” (5.10a, 5 pitches). All of the pitches are dead vertical, and the 50m pitch 4 crux features an exciting overhang on amazing jams. Frequently included as a top 100 route in Squamish, we had a very good time.

Working the pitch 4 crux.

Rad overhanging corners on the lower route.

There is a magical thing in climbing, when you and your partner simply “click”. It’s kinda always felt that way with Ky, and the pitches flowed by, each more fun than the next. From the top of Rock On, we hiked through the trees and found the alternate 5.9 slab+arete start to the Buttress route. Ky led brilliantly while my butterflies started to flutter as we worked our way up to the crux.

Me, getting into the business (photo: Ky Nayfield).

We took a minute at the base. No one else was in line at the crux, and I needed to clear my head before I got down to business. The climbing is thin, cerebral, and sustained- you can’t just muscle it. I tightened my shoes and headed up. It’s hard from the get go, and just gets harder. Once I committed to the second half of the route, I was in it to win. I took my time thinking through each move and each piece of protection. When you are right on the line between falling off and flowing onwards, there is nothing else to think about. It is one of the most perfect feelings in life.

Blue shirts, red helmets, and tan pants, I swear we didn’t plan it that way.

I did send the route cleanly, and was more than happy to put the old fears away. Ky and I made it back to Bellingham in ample time for dinner and rest before my long drive to Montana the next day. No doubt one of my best days climbing with one of my favorite partners on a perfect link-up of terrain. The clarity and stoke stuck in my system for days. It only happens when you are willing to step in the arena and try- when you walk the liminal line. Pick something hard and chase it- it’s worth it.

Until next time.

“Look mom…!”

“This place is climbing Disneyland.” In his first few minutes, Dustin had perfectly identified a very important fact. I can think of no other place with amazing granite trad multipitch lines, easy cragging, and outstanding bouldering just 10 minutes walk from your tent. Your tent, which is pitched under a perfect canopy of large conifers, perched on a spectacular bluff overlooking Howe Sound. You eat dinner with an international cast of generally friendly, well-behaved climbers of every skill level, as well as a few kayakers, cycle tourists, and wing-suit flyers to boot. The stoke is typically through the roof, and if by chance someone happens to be on your route when you get to the base of it in the morning, they are more than likely psyched to either let you pass, or direct you to a similar or better route in the immediate vicinity. I do not spend enough time here.

The weather for the first few days of my trip had been less than ideal in Squamish, hence climbing in Mazama, and a quick stop to do some work on the Moon family cabin.

On my vacation from construction work… (photo by Dustin)

I had always talked up trad climbing, and the wonders of granite cracks, but my many past adventures hadn’t taken that particular form. Being willing, available, and proximate, crack climbing 101 was suddenly inevitable. His lovely lady Gaio, had never been climbing outside and was even still willing after watching the entire “Wide Boys Crack School“, so north we went on a clearing Wednesday morning.

Garibaldy and the Chief welcome us.

We started on some easy cracks at the ever beautiful Burgers and Fries area in the Smoke Bluffs. It took Dustin about 3 hours to get itch to lead (the hard scary part of climbing). He is one of the most natural athletes I’ve ever met, so I gave the rack and a few tips, and he clipped the anchors in short order. We were off to the races.

“What is this ‘jamming’ thing you speak of…?”

Clipping the chains on his first lead (photo by Gaio)

We spent day 2 cragging away from the crowds on the incredible Malamute. 10 minutes walk from camp, the 400′ cliff boasts a wide variety of amazing cracks- with no road noise, few other people, and spectacular views of the sea. Ideal.

“High Mountain Woody” (5.9 45m) – I could see why you might get one…

‘Paul’s Crack’ on the Malamute. Unbelievable.

Getting the feel for leading past the funny things that are not bolts.

Like kids in Disneyland…

Dustin and Gaio were headed home for more work on the roof on Friday night, and I knew they needed to experience a multipitch line before they left. We accounted for being a team of 3 and our relative skill levels, picking our way through the forest to “Cream of White Mice” (II, 5.9, 4 pitches). It was the perfect outing- some finger cracks, a dyke, a nice 5.8 slab traverse and a tricky ending, with 4 rappels back to camp for a perfect outing. Disneyland sure is fun.

4 pitches and still smiling!

I probably wouldn’t encourage most beginners to dive straight into a climbing trip to Squamish. I’ve made a lot of mistakes in the last 10 years of climbing, and am thankful that very few of them have resulted in anything more than a couple hours of being cold and some lost gear. Dustin and Gaio were vocally grateful to have a dedicated guide to show them the literal ropes, and I realized that even as much as I enjoy climbing hard things and challenging myself, teaching climbing is one of the most fulfilling and rewarding things that I know how to do. It is of course far easier with fit, willing, and smart students. The experience of sharing this passion of mine with one of my closest friends is a reward that is exceedingly rare. I hadn’t planned on having that experience this trip, but it would have been far less rich without it.

View from dinner.