This year, the USA Paraclimbing team is bigger, stronger, and better than ever. With three world cups and a season capping world championship, we are looking forward to having a record breaking year! While USAC has stepped up considerably with financial support to its para team, there’s still a significant cash need for most athletes. Here’s a list of support opportunities to help get our nation’s best paraclimbers on the world stage. If you’d like your funding page added, just email me!
Nat Geo Live Speaking Tour - Year 2!
Last year I had the privilege of visiting 10 cities across the country to share my story, and meet so many of you that have followed along this wild ride for years. I assumed that year two would be quieter, but I have 14 different cities on the books for 2023!
Below you’ll find dates and links to purchase tickets for this season. I also hope to visit the local climbing gym in each city, so drop me a note if you want to swap belays. I’ll also take beta on the best mac and cheese spots.
1/17/2023 - Baton Rouge, LA - Tickets
1/29/2023 - Tucson, AZ - Tickets
2/7-8, 2023 - Dallas, TX -Tickets coming soon!
3/21/2023 - Des Moines, IA - Tickets
3/23/2023 - Collegedale/Chattanooga, TN - Tickets
3/26-28/2023 - Toronto, ON - Tickets
4/4/2023 - Boise, ID - Tickets
4/12/2023 - Mesa, AZ - Tickets
4/20/2023 - San Francisco, CA - Tickets
4/25/2023 - Victoria, BC - Tickets
4/29/2023 - Benton Harbor, MI - Tickets
5/1/2023 - San Luis Obispo, CA - Tickets
5/26/2023 - Thousand Oaks, CA - Tickets
6/2/2023 - Austin, TX - Tickets
An Outside Climber's Shopping List
You’ve mastered the gym. You’re lead belay certified, you’ve taken ‘how to build sport anchors’ classes, you’ve gone outside a few times with someone else in charge, and you’ve learned all of the LNT and etiquette that sets the gym apart from outside climbing. You’re ready to buy some gear so you can get out on your own - but what do you need?
This is my shopping list for the beginner sport climber. The options are endless, so I’m sticking with items that my sponsors offer - but feel free to ask me about other brands and products, because odds are I’ve tried them.
This list is loosely ranked in order of ‘must have’, but that’s not a hard and fast rule. We’re also assuming that, from your gym climbing, you already have a harness, shoes, belay device, and chalk bag.
Rope - Sterling Quest, 9.5 mm, 70m, $289.99 Climbing ropes are tricky - they’re the most expensive single item in your kit, the most important as it’s a non-redundant part of your system, and also need to be considered disposable - even the most expensive, burly rope can suffer product ending damage on its first day out. All that said, I have found that nicer ropes do last longer and handle better than cheaper ones. For a general, durable all arounder, I love the Quest - at 9.5 it handles skinny while being beefy enough to last a long time with proper use. Fun fact - my first rope was 10.9! This rope is also a dry rope, and I’ve always found my dry ropes lasting longer. Finally, I like a 70m length - depending on where you mainly climb, you could do a 60, but a lot of more modern climbs need a 70. Also, your rope ends get the most dings and wear, so a chopped 70 could become a 60 (or a nice gym rope!) Also consider: Rope Tarp with Stash Pocket, $29.99
Quickdraws - Petzl Djinn, $15.95 each Are there lighter draws? Yup. Are there heavier draws? Uh huh. I love the Djinn’s as a perfect middle - beefy enough to yard the dog bones, but lighter than the big brother Spirit. These are nice, snappy draws that I’ve used for years.
I like longer draws, so for a starter kit I would recommend 12 of these in the 17cm length. Also consider - a handful of alpine draws, which you can make out of regular wiregates and slings, or buy pre packaged here.
Anchor Material/Quad: Sterling Sewn Cordalette, $29.99 When we know we’ll have a second on a route or have a crew toproping, we all hope that we’ll have a nicely spaced bolted anchor at the top of each sport climb, so we can just dump our rope into two draws and call it good. However, we’re not always that lucky, so in instances of an offset anchor or for large numbers of top ropers in an insitutional setting, a quad is the more appropriate choice. You can tie your own with cord-by-the-foot for much cheaper than this cord, but I love the ease of this one and the low profile sewn joint instead of a bulky knot. For more on the Quad anchor, check out this blog post and this YouTube video.
Locking Carabiners: Petzl Sm’D, $17.95 If you’ve been climbing for any time at all, you know that the right number of locking carabiners is always n+1. No matter how I pack, I could always use one more! I’d recommend starting out with at least 2, but 4 would be better. This Petzl carabiner is a favorite of mine. It’s lightweight, versatile, and the gold is just dead sexy. I prefer having the auto locking version for my belay device and personal anchor attachment, but that’s total personal preference.
Backpack: The North Face Cinder 55, $189 You can only do so many trips to the crag with your school sized backpack before your partners will start calling you out on not carrying your weight. You’ll want a bag big enough for your share of the group gear, and your own gear - food, water, shoes, layers, snacks, etc. The TNF Cinder is a Mary Poppins style magic carpet bag that seems to fit everything you need, always with room for just one more thing. It’s also wicked durable, and I can confirm - the heavy vinyl makes cleaning out sticky beer a breeze.
What do you think of this list? What’s missing, and what would you change? Comment below!
So, you want to compete in Paraclimbing? *Updated for 2022*
It’s been a while since I last wrote about what goes into competing at the USA Paraclimbing Nationals. There has been a lot of changes that represent the growth and increasing professionalism in the sport, with the ultimate goal of Paralympic inclusion. While the overall fun spirit of our nationals has not changed and remains a place for adaptive climbers of all levels to test their skills and grow the paraclimbing community, there’s a lot more going on now!
In the US, it’s pretty easy to get involved with paraclimbing competitions, but there isn’t a lot of info out there about HOW. With more and more adaptive climbers reaching out all of the time, I’ve decided to put together a FAQ about what USA Paraclimbing is all about.
First Step? Read the rule book. A lot of the nitty gritty questions can be answered there, so here’s the link: 2021-2022 Rulebook . I highly recommend doing a Control + F for ‘paraclimbing’ and reading everything that comes up.
Who can compete? Anyone with a qualifying physical disability can compete at USA Paraclimbing competitions. A list of what that is can be found on page 138 of the rulebook. As of 3/3/2022, we are still waiting for an update on classifications from the IFSC, so for now we are following last year’s sport classes: Page 140 . It’s totally fine to have other disabilities that aren’t physical, too, but you must also have a disability that physically effects the way you climb. Starting in 2022, anyone who doesn’t meet the IFSC standard of a minimum physical disability or is unable to be classified into a sport class may enter the ‘Open’ category. This category will not qualify someone for the US Team, but will still allow athletes to compete and join the fun. This category is open to anyone including those who were not able to complete medical documentation requirements prior to the event, who are not able to attend the in-person classification event, or those who either do not have an eligible medical diagnosis or do not meet minimal impairment critera.
But I’m a brand new climber! That’s ok! There still aren’t a huge number of adaptive competitions around the country, so for many athletes our first ever climbing competitions is nationals. GULP! Just keep in mind that is totally normal and have fun and enjoy your first year. Many of our athletes have only climbed a few months before entering. Before you know it, you’ll be a salty old veteran, too! Nationals can be taken seriously by climbers who want to make the US team, but many of our competitors are there primarily to have fun and meet new people.
Do I need to qualify for Nationals? Nope. All you have to do is sign up, show up, and try your best. Hopefully one day we’ll have so many athletes that we’ll be able to roll out a regional series as a qualification event, but for now Para Nationals is an open competition.
What if I’m not a US Citizen? That’s great! We welcome international competitors. For team qualifications, top US citizen placements will be what is considered, in case of a foreign national making podium.
What is USA Climbing? USAC is the governing body over competitive climbing in the US. More officially, “USA Climbing is the national governing body of the sport of competition climbing in the United States. As a 501(c)3 non-profit, we promote three competition disciplines, bouldering, sport and speed climbing, and is recognized by the International Federation of Sport Climbing, the International Olympic Committee, and the US Olympic Committee.”
What is this going to cost me? In addition to any travel, you’ll need to purchase a USAC Paraclimbing membership ($45) and pay for nationals registration ($100 or up, depending on how early you register). You’ll get a rad t shirt and some swag in your registration kit.
Will I be able to get around? Host gyms are selected based on many criteria, including how accessible they are - both in the facility itself as well as proximity to hotels and major airports. We request that the facilities have appropriate ramps, bathrooms, elevators, anything needed to allow people to move around independently.
What is this about Sport Classes? Paraclimbing competition has sport classes, or categories, that people with similar disabilities compete within. Generally, they are leg amputee, arm amputee, visually impaired, limited range of motion and power, and seated/paralysis. For some of those there are subcategories- these can all be found in the rulebook. There is also a youth category, that is not broken out by disability type (but hey, if we get enough kids in, we will!) For more information on categories, check out that rulebook. Some of these are pretty vague, but basically if you have a disability that effects your physical performance while climbing, it’s likely that you qualify for one of the categories. Paraclimbing follows the International Paralympic rule book, so you can read more about the types of disabilities that qualify here: https://www.paralympic.org/classification
How do I get classified, and what paperwork do I need to bring? All competitors will need to go through classification at least once, and some competitors will need to be classified every year. In the months or weeks before the competition, you will need to have a doctor fill out a form called the Medical Diagnostic Form (MDF) found here. You will need to have this filled out by a doctor to explain how your disability affects you physically, and you may need to bring supporting documents like X Rays or MRI's as explained in the form. In the days leading up to the competition, unclassed competitors will sign up for a half hour slot to meet with trained USAC Classifiers who will confirm or change the sport class the athlete signed up for. The classification appointments are scheduled when you register for the event and take place the days before the event, so keep that in mind when scheduling your travel.
Whoa, sport classes are complicated… We promise, it’ll make sense once you’re in, but don’t be afraid to email paraclimbing@usaclimbing.org with any questions!
How do I register? This has gotten a little more complicated than in years past!
Create an account at usaclimbing.org - the ‘login’ button will take you to Sport80 which is the website USAC uses for registration and membership management.
Purchase a Paraclimbing Membership
Take the SafeSport training (this can take a few hours)
Under ‘events’, add the Paraclimbing Nationals and follow those instructions to register.
What if I want to compete at my home gym but there isn’t an adaptive comp? While it’s intimidating, I encourage everyone to enter regular, abled competitions - even if they don’t have an adaptive category, and even if you come in last place. Any competition experience will help you prepare for nationals.
When is it? Typically at the end of March - the 2022 Nationals are March 25-27 in Birmingham, AL.
Ok, I’m in - what can I expect at my first Nationals? Nationals is a multi day event, combining social gatherings and events in addition to the competition. We usually have slideshows from a pro climber, movies, food trucks, etc.
The competition itself can be hectic for the first timer. Here’s what you can expect for 2022:
All routes are on top rope.
Saturday will be qualifiers and Sunday will be finals.
Saturday will have two waves, classes will be scheduled to compete in either the morning or the afternoon wave. Saturday is redpoint format, which means you can watch others climb, there is no isolation or preview.
While you are allowed to climb on any of the MANY routes, you will only be able to score on three routes that have been designated for your sport class. So, you can warm up or play on a route that won’t count towards your score, but only three assigned to your sport class will count.
You may attempt the route as many times as you want. Attempts will be tracked for tiebreakers, if needed. After your attempt, should you want to try again you will need to get back in line behind other competitors for your next attempt.
SUNDAY FINALS is onsight format. This means if you make finals, you will report to the gym, and be put into isolation - no phones, no outside communication. There will be facilities for bathroom as well as areas to climb and warm up. Right before climbing starts, all competitors are brought out to the climbs and given 5 minutes to preview the route. Then, athletes are returned to ISO to wait their turn to climb. Athletes may discuss the climbs amongst themselves, and VI climbers may review with their callers. No outside communication or coaching is allowed. You get one attempt to get as high as you can on the route.
Once you climb, you remain by the competition area to cheer for everyone who comes after you! The awards ceremony follows shortly. Don’t plan on flying home Sunday night - we can’t guarantee an end time though it’s typically around 5 pm.
AFTERPARTY- they’re legendary. Check the USA Paraclimbing Community Facebook page for themes and more info.
How hard is the climbing? It’s hard to say as the routes aren’t graded other than route 1 is the easiest and route 80 is the hardest. I’d guess that route 1 is 5.4 and route 80 is 5.13.
I’m serious, and I want to make the US Team: Paraclimbing Nationals is a qualifying event to make the US Climbing Team. Traditionally, top 4 US finishers get invites to the team. Every odd year is the World Championships that we attend as a big group. Otherwise, making the team will allow you to compete at other events internationally (world cups, other national championships) while representing the US. This year, USAC will host a paraclimbing world cup in SLC, there are additional world cups in Europe each summer.
Where can I get more info or ask questions? Check out the USA Paraclimbing Community Facebook page: Link Here
Is there any prize money? …no, but I’ll give a hella high 5 and a hug to anyone who tries their best.
Are you a brand or company interested in supporting Paraclimbing Nationals as a sponsor? Please reach out to learn more - click the ‘Contact’ link at the top of the page!
Nat Geo Live Speaking Tour - Details Here!
I'm overwhelmed at the opportunity to travel the country for @live_natgeo and share my story with all of you. I've been working SO HARD on this show, and I really hope to get to meet a lot of my internet family!
Check out my shows at:
2/17 – Fort Collins, CO Tickets
2/22 – Kansas City, MO Tickets
3/18 – Lone Tree, CO Tickets
3/22 – Omaha, NE Tickets
3/29 – Madison, WI Tickets
4/5 – Charlotte, NC Tickets
4/12 – The Villages, FL Tickets
5/1 – Seattle, WA Tickets
5/10 – Portland, OR Tickets
5/18 - Spokane, WA Tickets
6/4 – Toronto, ON Tickets
6/16 – Santa Monica, CA Tickets
Working on the Road: Pt 1
‘Working on the Road’ is a new series, combining camper life with working remote while traveling with three dogs and adventuring on the way.
With #vanlife trending and the pandemic pushing more and more people to remote work, the itch of life in the road is becoming a lot easier to scratch for a lot of people. Still, there’s more to it than cowboy songs and cheap coffee. As I write more about our experiences, I think it’s prudent to start with a ‘disclaimer’ list - so you know exactly where we’re coming from and how it could compare to your situation. Everyone’s life and experience will be different, and my story isn’t meant to be a prescription, or even a ‘how-to’ - it’s simply a telling of the good, the bad, and the tips we’ve gathered from our days on the road. Sorry to say this will be the least sexy entry in this series, but here we go.
DISCLAIMERS, BACKGROUND AND ASSUMPTIONS:
I work part time as a social media marketing manager for a climbing wall company. They’re pretty great at letting me work flexible hours as long as I communicate my schedule ahead of time and make room for meetings during ‘normal’ hours as needed. The rest of my ‘work’ I call the Mo Show - that’s working with sponsors, scheduling speaking gigs, creating content like this, etc. Between the two, I’m probably ass-at-computer 30 hours a week.
My husband Brian has a ‘real job’ as a software engineer for a large satellite company. The do open PTO, so if we need to travel on a weekday or spend some time out of service, it’s pretty chill. That said, it also means he’s pretty much always working and almost never takes a pure vacation.
Because we both have jobs, we are able to spend a bit on the road - this isn’t going to be a dirtbag’s guide to road life on $20 a week. We often pay for camping, eating out, etc.
We still own our house in Colorado and spend most of our time there. However, we are looking to do more time on the road in two week chunks here and there with a few month+ trips thrown in. We got lucky and bought our house before the Front Range real estate went absolutely bonkers, and we have a roommate or two at all times to help offset housing cost and mind the cat and the gardens while we’re away.
We just upgraded to a 25’ camper trailer, meaning we tow it with our pick up truck, drop it at camp, and then have the truck free to use a s a commuter vehicle. See my post on why we went that route over a van here (though it features our old, smaller trailer).
If we travel where it’s hard to bring dogs, we’ll leave them with my in laws or hire a house sitter.
Our first real work on the road trip was in 2018, but things certainly look different with COVID. Currently, how we can be the most COVID safe is front and center when we plan on going on (or staying home) for a trip.
I’ll update this list as needed, but keep these in mind as you read!
Help Gimp Biscuit Get Rolling!
****EDIT - FULLY FUNDED! ****
TL;DR: I’m ‘selling’ dog treats to raise money to buy a wheelchair for my three legged dog. Venmo $15 to [REMOVED BECAUSE IT’S FUNDED] And make sure you note your shipping address in the transaction notes as well as the receiving doggo’s name, if applicable. $15 is for one 12 oz bag and includes shipping in the US. For multiple bags or other payment methods, ping me. If you’d rather donate your bag to my local rescue, just note that!
Biscuit was born without her left front paw (matching her human mom!) and with dysplasia in her remaining front leg. As she's gotten older, her remaining front leg and shoulder have taken a beating. She's only 3, but cannot walk more than a few minutes without her front leg collapsing, which means she's getting bored, fat, and has pain. Because of her dysplaysia we believe she is not a good candidate for prosthetics and orthotics.
Up to 65% of a dogs weight is born by their front legs, and Biscuit only has one wonky one to bear that load. We believe that getting her a wheelchair will allow her to resume long, happy walks terrorizing the local squirrel population. We thought about building our own, but decided it would be smarter to go with a professionally built one that is built with all of her alignment needs in mind.
We will be purchasing the wheelchair through Eddie's Wheels (Model Here), which builds high quality wheelchairs for off-roading doggos. A chair for her size costs $530, and we are trying to get a little more to cover shipping and the tools needed to measure her accurately.
We don’t think she’ll be using the wheelchair 24/7 - it’s going to be exclusively for walks, to reduce wear on her body while still getting badly needed exercise and mental stimulation. She’ll probably hate it at first, and we know we’ll have to work through that. If she really doesn’t like if after a while, we’re committed to hiring a trainer to work with her so we can really use it.
BUT WAIT! We don't really want just your cash donation. We want to earn your support. While we're not technically selling treats, we'd like you to make a donation that will get you that reward - home made treats, tested by Gimp Biscuit herself. These will be packaged nicely and mailed in time for Christmas presents.
Donations of $15 or more get a 12 oz bags of treats made with chicken, cheese, egg and whole wheat. Make sure to ping me or leave a comment if you want multiple bags. $15 includes shipping to US addresses only.
If this goes bonkers, any excess funds will be donated to Paradox Sports - a climbing organization for gimpy humans.
***legal gobbly gook - I’m not selling a product, you are making a donation and this is the thank you. Sweet.***
The Trailer Life
“Pfft,” I scoffed while scrolling through floorplan after floorplan. “Who needs a fridge to go camping? And a TV? And a toilet - what’s wrong with pooping in the woods, like I’ve been doing all of my life? This is ridiculous, and so not me.”
Brian and I were on the hunt for a way to travel together, bring our dogs, and have adventures outside while working on the road. Typically, I would take off solo, living out of my Subaru or the Tacoma (see related post: The Sleeparu) while Brian stayed home with the dogs. Now and then we’d do a weekend together. As our work changed to more flexible hours, and our dreams of adventure got bigger, and when we started kind of missing each other - we knew it was time for a change.
We thought about a van. We wanted to do a smaller van, not a massive sprinter style. Think plumber van. Quickly, there were cons:
My hubby is 6’3”. We weren’t planning on having too much standing room, but he’s so tall he wouldn’t be able to fit in the bed that’s traditionally across the back of a van build.
By the time we bought a used van that still had a lot of miles left, we were looking at $10k+, plus $5k for upgrades/build out/ etc.
Not doggo safe during extreme warm or cold weather.
Not a lot of room to hang during rowdy weather or work hours.
Having lived out of a car before, having to pack up your entire world each morning to go to the crag totally sucks.
We found a slide in truck camper on Craigslist, mint condition candy apple red 1997 F250 included. The camper wasn’t perfect for us, but it got us thinking - what if we’re actually looking more at that RV market?
The thing is, we’re not THEM. There is a real emotional, identity divide between the US in the outdoor world (climbers, skiers, backpackers) and the THEM (the type of characters that, in my mind, were the stereotype of those who use RVs).
But then as we looked around, we realized a travel trailer is actually exactly what we wanted:
Road ready, we already had a truck to tow.
Heat and AC for the dogs, so we know they’re safely snoozing/destroying pillows while we’re out and about for the day.
We could leave it at camp for days/weeks, and have our regular car to get around and explore.
SPACE!
We settled on the RPOD 178 Hood River Edition which has some off road features and is only 20’ from tail to tongue, making it easy to tow and park for noobs like us.
For essentially the same price as building out our own van, we got a house on wheels - two queen beds, one which converts to a dinette that can seat 4 easy, 6 for card games. It came with a wet bath that we converted to extra storage for our long stints on the road - same with a power guzzling microwave oven that became our pantry space. There is an outside hot shower, which has come in clutch during the age of COVID when most shower places are closed. I don’t know how I could live without a fridge now, and when we are plugged in to shore power, I pop in a DVD to relax and cook dinner. On rest days, we can comfortably work in the camper or drive to a coffee shop.
We didn’t use the water systems at first, too scared and overwhelmed at the idea of it. We finally broke down though, and it’s a real wonder to turn that sink handle and have hot and cold water flow out - even more essential when you haven’t had a hot shower for over a week.
When we get to camp for the night (which could be a week at a campground or a single night at a truck stop) it takes us about 30 minutes to get the camper levelled and ready to live in. When we leave, it’s maybe 45 minutes to pack it all up and get it on the road. Now that we’ve had it two years, everything has a place and we move pretty efficiently.
We did do some major mods:
Upgraded the battery by replacing the stock marine/RV battery with two deep cycle golf cart batteries so we have enough power to be off the grid, no recharge, for about a week
Portable solar
Most recently, a generator, as a back up for when we’re in a shady spot and can’t use solar (we usually try to park in the shade to keep the trailer cool, which is a catch 22) and when we want to run the AC (it sucks too much juice for the batteries to handle)
Converted wet bath and microwave slot into storage - we camp in places that have bathrooms, or we have a groover and tent set up for boondocking. We catch a lot of slack on that mod from the people in the RV forums (‘if you can’t poop in it, just camp in a tent!’) but whatever.
Added cabinets where there was just mesh to keep things in place, and the damn dogs out of the human food
Purchased a cellular extender and an unlimited data plan so we can more easily work from the camper, since COVID has made it harder to work in coffee shops.
Outfitted a burly outside kitchen, for Brian’s greasy cast iron cooking habits - I can only imagine how gross the cabin would get if cooking bacon in there every day.
All in all, we’re super happy. We’ve had some minor maintenance issues, nothing crazy. Our biggest problem is the fixed queen is 74” long, and Brian is 75” long…meaning while we got the fixed bed with the idea of only using the dinette for visitors, our nightly routine is Brian in the main bed with a dog and myself in the dinette bed with two dogs. We also can’t both get ready at once, we have to take turns getting into the closet and brushing our teeth. So, as we plan on taking longer and longer trips, spending more and more weeks on the road, we are looking to upgrade soon to a model just 5’ longer that gets us a walk around 80” bed and a full dry bath, plus a propane oven.
No, we’re not the RV life people. Except - typing this while on week 5 on the road from a my office at the Chattanooga Panera - we suddenly are. I think that the trailer life is for me. From a quick weekend trip to our bigger ones - 3 weeks in Vegas, two weeks in Wyoming, now week 5 of a big east coast trip - I can’t imagine doing this any other way.
This is an emergency.
This isn’t a climbing story. This is a story about an emergency.
We were almost to Longmont before Sam realized he had missed our turn to Estes Park. Our mindless banter to stay awake at 3:30 in the morning had distracted us from that crucial turn, costing us an hour on our day.
Less than a year ago, we made the same drive to Bear Lake to climb Hallet Peak via the Culp Bossier route – a classic in a park full of classics. That day had a 30% chance of good weather, so we went for it. By the top of pitch 4, with 4 more to go, it was clear that was the wrong call – the skies opened with rain, hail, and lightening moving in several hours earlier than forecasted. We bailed, lips blue, with each rappel acting as a rope squeegee dumping icy water onto my crotch.
With that last experience in mind, I chugged my coffee and we sped through the darkness. Properly timed coffee, I will argue, is the most under rated tool in your alpine kit. When you’re cragging, you can pretty much poop whenever you want – pop out that beautiful silver wag bag, do the deed, and set it aside til the end of the day. In multi pitch alpine, though, there’s no trees to squat behind, ledges are far and few between, and you will be intimately carrying that wag bag the rest of the day.
The automatic coffee maker had done its job and we headed out with loaded mugs. It’s about a two hour drive to the lot, which has several pit toilets. That’s usually enough time for the coffee to work its way through my system, I can poop at the trail head, and enjoy a nice light day on the rock. Our missed turn actually gave me an extra hour to let my system do its job – I was stoked.
Everything felt like it was going right. We pull in, hustle to load our packs, and… nothing. I sat in the dimly lit latrine, reading informative posters on bears and COVID-19, but nothing was happening. What the hell? I thought. I had the whole damn mug… I started doing the math on the breakfast burrito I had earlier, the mac and cheese I had for dinner the night before. Oh yeah, I should be making a GIANT deposit!
With both dawn and the Sunday crowds approaching, I couldn’t wait any longer. We had to move. I realized then that I had made a massive tactical error – I didn’t have a wag bag. I stuffed a handful of tissues and a few doggie bags in my pack, my thought being to get VERY far off trail, bury the poo, and doggie bag out the TP. Not perfect, but it was a plan.
Two hours of hiking and boulder hopping later, still no movement. ‘Dammit!’ I called out to Sam. ‘I guess I just don’t have to go!’ He shrugged, smugly, and tied in to start the 1,000 foot route. I was ok for a bit, until we hit the lunch ledge atop pitch 4. This was the now or never stop – poop here, as the rest of the climb was hanging belays. The problem was, there isn’t a place to bury it here, so I was looking at bagging my own shit in the blue doggie bag and trusting it to jostle in my pack for the rest of the day. *Gulp*. I can hold it. Sam set off, and my gut began to roil. An eternity later, I heard ‘climb on!’ and I passed the point of no return.
Midway through the pitch, the alien inside of me decided to abort the escape mission and crawl back uphill. Relieved, I pulled up to belay, excited to finish off the next three pitches. I’ll poop on the summit! I thought to myself, knowing the climb was topped by a massive boulder field, full of places to hide a turd.
I pulled through the final weird roof offwidth move to the summit, and the alien retreated even deeper. “I’m, uh, gonna go for a walk,’ I told Sam, leaving him to coil the rope and gather the gear. I wandered a ways, found a rock and just…sat. Nothing was moving, but I felt a deep hard pit in my gut. I didn’t even bother to drop trou and pretend – shit was sticking.
I started to do math, thinking of the row of pit toilets back at the lot. I think, at this point, I can just hold it til then. Maybe sitting on an actual can will get this moving… We hustled down the raps and scree field back to the boulders where we’d left our packs – another point of no return. From here on out, our descent would be on a crowded trail, mobbed with tourists and climbers with no real way to avoid packing out your steamer. But I had already made the fatal error – I focused on how pleasant and easy it would be to shit at the outhouses and I got poop tunnel vision.
Even if it weren’t for my impacted bowels, I would have been stumbling down the approach trail. Awake since 2 am, dehydrated, feet swollen and bruised from 8 hours straight in climbing shoes – I looked the disaster that I felt inside. Racing past tourists, I was cramped from my ribs to my knees. I started thinking of how, in the height of summer, lines form at these outhouses, sometimes dozens deep. Gritting my teeth and sweating, I pledged to push and claw my way through a throng of Texan grandmas in order to get to that porcelain throne – or explode trying.
There wasn’t a line, there were no grandmas. Shaking, I entered the cool room. I’ll spare you the gritty details, but it wasn’t a fun experience. I usually love pooping, it’s one of the best feelings in the world. But this dehydrated creature made of poor diet choices and coffee was no pleasant beast, and it exited my world as cruelly as it had existed in it.
Sam was waiting by the truck when I excited, pale and unsteady.
‘Ooookay,’ he said. ‘Maybe two mugs next time?’
It's the end of the world as we know it (and I'm not fine)
I sat, with a pair of $350 electric socks in my lap, trying to decide if I was about to cry. These weren’t just any pair of socks. These were magic; they were destined for Alaska. I thumbed the seal on the box anxiously, the one labeled ‘RETURNS NOT ACCEPTED IF SEAL IS BROKEN’, wondering what I should do.
***
I wasn’t ready. You never are for these things but, for this, I really wasn’t. I wanted to be leading ice at a certain level with dozens of hard pitches under my belt. None of that had happened.
“You’ll be fine” Chad assured me, slurping the foam off a PBR. The bar lights flickered off of the sequins of his slinky, floor length ball gown and the glitter in his beard. “I can lead it all unless the ice is out. Then the 5.9X rock choss pitch is yours but the ice will be in and you’ll be fine.”
The DJ called out his name, and he turned to perform his karaoke favorite: “Springtime for Hitler and Germany.”
***
It was late February. Jim had a fever and a cough. We make jokes.
***
It was early March. Let the packing begin. I had just given my notice at work. Climbing, speaking about climbing and teaching climbing was my job description now. My last day at my old desk was the day before I was taking off for Anchorage.
My head was spinning as I thought of my life trajectory in days to come: “speaking panel at sponsor’s HQ; Los Angeles for a photo shoot; Alaska for a month; home for one week; West Virginia for speaking gig; home for two weeks; teach clinics on the road for two weeks; Chamonix for one month .…” For the last two years, my life was jumping from event to crag with the suitcase never quite getting put away. I had finally placed enough puzzle pieces together to try to make a go of this new adventure. Why not? I quit my ‘real’ job - I had life by the gnards.
***
Nationals was the first to get cancelled. Soon to follow were photo shoots and speaking gigs. “Fear not,” I thought, “You’ll always have Alaska, ready or not.”
Scrolling aimlessly one day, my messenger flashed open.
“Hey team, so…this virus thing, huh?”
My heart caught in my throat, watching the ‘…’ of someone else on our team typing.
“Yeah, it’s not looking good.”
I add my own message and hit send, not believing my own words as the bubble appears: “No worries, we should play it safe – there’s always next year.”
***
By May, I didn’t know who I was. My suitcase was packed away in the basement. The skin on my fingers soft from lack of use. What good is a climber who can’t go climbing? What kind of professional can I be without work? Hours of scrolling through feeds, watching other ‘pros’ on their home woodies, hangboarding and posting kale smoothie recipes had become my life. I was filled with doubt. I had no interest in any of that. Am I the imposter? Why did I ever think that *I*, of all people, could be a professional athlete?
I didn’t allow myself to feel bad in any real way. How could I grieve what I had lost? There are people dead and dying, people who have lost real jobs in a society where most can’t survive missing two paychecks and people on the streets protesting for social justice - things that seemed so much greater than a professional athlete’s career crash. My desk job kept me on and my husband has secure work that he loves. Who am I to feel sad for myself? All I had were basic privileged white girl problems.
***
In June, I realized the reality. These may seem minimal but they were my basic problems. I wouldn’t get unstuck from this new limbo until I let myself feel sad and let myself grieve for what I had lost, even if the physical manifestations of my loss were only ‘cancelled ‘ lines through my calendar. In this era of being drained emotionally every time you turn on the news or log on to Instagram, it’s important to remember that your problems and your grief STILL matter. We are so often told not to compare ourselves to others. Generally, such instructions are usually about physical appearance or a type of accomplishment. Don’t worry, they say, You’ll get there in your own way and time.
I started to realize that, just as you shouldn’t compare yourself to others’ successes, you shouldn’t compare your grief and failures to theirs. Just because someone else is struggling or may face worse challenges than you does not mean your own struggles are invalid. We must keep what we face and what we lose in perspective compared to others but we are still facing our own unique losses that impact us each in their own, unique ways.
***
Day dreams now all come with asterisks. We are all traveling into this new unknown together. So, go ahead and feel bad for yourself. And while normal may not return as soon as we’d like, if ever, you’re not experiencing this alone.
Training McTrainface Time!
The new year is always an exciting time, but especially for Paraclimbers - the first day of the year marks almost exactly three months until our National Championships! I ended up taking the fall off from ‘training’ and just had fun trying hard and attempting to make it through unbroken. I asked my coach if he had any tips to share as we dive into the meat of training season. I’ve been working with Emmett for a few years now, and he was the US Paraclimbing Coach for the last two world championships. After berating me for my bad diet and starting my training program late, here’s the advice he has to share:
“I think the thing I see the best paraclimbers doing consistently is focusing on dedication and trying hard. Being a high performance athlete means you're putting in the work and taking no shortcuts, so the athletes who rise to the top are the ones who take it seriously, no matter what level they start at.
The first thing every athlete needs is to set goals. Training, trying hard, and even competing are almost meaningless without a goal in mind. I generally recommend athletes make a series of goals, ranging from unrealistic, long-term goals to achievable monthly goals. Without something to work for, the rest of the steps won't happen.
The second step for every athlete is to make a plan on how to reach those goals. Some athletes can get by on their own, but I generally see the most progress from athletes who hire a coach as an outside observer to help craft a great, personalized plan. Coaches are useful in that they can be someone holding you accountable and they will generally know the best balance of when to force you to work on your weaknesses and when to let you enjoy climbing while still making progress. No matter what path you choose, having a plan is step two.
Step three is to stick to the plan! This is the hardest step but also the most simple. I know that life can be hectic and it feels like you never have time to yourself if you're spending 10-20 hours per week training, but you have to remember that your goals probably won't happen by just going to the gym once or twice a week and climbing for an hour. The best athletes put in the time and are there to try hard when they step into the gym. Not every session will be fun, but going in with the mentality of trying hard so you can reach your goals will help you stay focused.
That all being said, step four is really really important: Have fun! Taking training too seriously can be exhausting, and only a robot can be 100% serious all the time. Remember that climbing is fun and embrace that every now and then. Have a long rest between sets on the hangboard? Go see if you can do your first unassisted pull-up. Need a break from projecting? Try that silly thing you saw pro climber @allisonvest do on Instagram. I find that these moments are better enjoyed with a like-minded training partner. Having at least one person laughing WITH you in the gym makes every session more enjoyable.
There you have it, four steps to be the best athlete you can be. Now drop and give me 20!”
For more Emmett than you can handle, you can find him at https://emmettcookson.com/coaching/ and on Instgram at @hiimemmett
So, you wanna compete in Paraclimbing?
Welcome to the wild and crazy world of Paraclimbing, where the competition is fun, fierce, and usually ends with chugging beer out of someone’s leg! I haven’t missed a US Nationals since the first one in 2014, and I love growing the family. That first nationals was about 40 athletes. We’ve more than doubled last year, and I’d love to see that number explode.
In the US, it’s pretty easy to get involved with paraclimbing competitions, but there isn’t a lot of info out there about HOW. With more and more adaptive climbers reaching out all of the time, I’ve decided to put together a FAQ about what USA Paraclimbing is all about.
First step? Read the rulebook! Many questions can be answered there, so here’s the link: http://www.usaclimbing.org/Officials/Rulebook.htm .I highly recommend doing a Control+F for ‘adaptive’ (soon to be ‘paraclimbing’) and reading everything that comes up.
Who can compete? Anyone with a qualifying physical disability can compete at USA Paraclimbing competitions. A list of what that is can be found here in the USA Rule book, page 64. It’s totally fine to have other disabilities that aren’t physical, too, but you must also have a disability that physically effects the way you climb.
But I’m a brand new climber! That’s ok! There still aren’t a huge number of adaptive competitions around the country, so for many athletes our first ever climbing competitions is nationals. GULP! Just keep in mind that is totally normal and have fun and enjoy your first year. Many of our athletes have only climbed a few months before entering. Before you know it, you’ll be a salty old veteran, too! Nationals can be taken seriously by climbers who want to make the US team, but many of our competitors are there primarily to have fun and meet new people.
Do I need to qualify for Nationals? Nope. All you have to do is sign up, show up, and try your best. Hopefully one day we’ll have so many athletes that we’ll be able to roll out a regional series as a qualification event, but for now Para Nationals is an open competition.
What if I’m not a US Citizen? That’s great! We welcome international competitors. For team qualifications, top US citizen placements will be what is considered, in case of a foreign national making podium.
What is USA Climbing? USAC is the governing body over competitive climbing in the US. More officially, “USA Climbing is the national governing body of the sport of competition climbing in the United States. As a 501(c)3 non-profit, we promote three competition disciplines, bouldering, sport and speed climbing, and is recognized by the International Federation of Sport Climbing, the International Olympic Committee, and the US Olympic Committee.
What is this going to cost me? In addition to any travel, you’ll need to purchase a USAC Paraclimbing membership ($45) and pay for nationals registration ($100). You’ll get a rad t shirt and some swag in your registration kit.
Will I be able to get around? Host gyms are selected based on many criteria, including how accessible they are - both in the facility itself as well as proximity to hotels and major airports. We request that the facilities have appropriate ramps, bathrooms, elevators, anything needed to allow people to move around independently.
What is this about Categories? We’ve created categories that people with similar disabilities compete within. Generally, they are leg amputee, arm amputee, visually impaired, limited range of motion and power, and seated/paralysis. For some of those there are subcategories- these can all be found in the rulebook, but we hope to have some major changes in place soon so keep checking back. There is also a youth category, that is not broken out by disability type (but hey, if we get enough kids in, we will!) For more information on categories, check out that rulebook- Paraclimbing starts on page 64. Some of these are pretty vague, but basically if you have a disability that effects your physical performance while climbing, it’s likely that you qualify for one of the categories.
What if I want to compete at my home gym but there isn’t an adaptive comp? While it’s intimidating, I encourage everyone to enter regular, abled competitions - even if they don’t have an adaptive category, and even if you come in last place. Any competition experience will help you prepare for nationals.
When is it? Typically at the end of March - the 2020 Nationals are March 28-29.
Ok, I’m in - what can I expect at my first Nationals? Nationals is a multi day event, combining social gatherings and events in addition to the competition. We usually have slideshows from a pro climber, movies, food trucks, etc.
The competition itself can be hectic for the first timer. While there may be changes in store for 2020, here is how the competition has run in the past:
All routes are on top rope.
There are man routes to choose from, last year there were about 80 over 35 ropes. Some climbs can count for multiple ‘tops’ - for example, there may be a zone 20’ up one climb, and that gets you points for Climb X. If you make it to the next zone, you get credit for Climbs X and Y. If you make it to the tippy top, you get credit for X, Y, and Z.
You have 3 hours to compete and get points. If you fall, you can get back in line and repeat a climb as many times as you want. Points from your three hardest climbs go towards your total score.
Everyone climbs at once - it gets crazy, it’s loud, there are lines for climbs, it can be hot and hectic. But it’s also wicked fun.
Awards ceremony follows shortly after the finish of the climbing portion of the competition.
How do I sign up? Follow USA Climbing, USA Paraclimbing on facebook and instagram as well as sign up for USAC emails. Registration will be a few months before the event. Sometimes the website doesn’t work well with screen readers so if you need help signing up, call the USAC office.
How hard is the climbing? It’s hard to say as the routes aren’t graded other than route 1 is the easiest and route 80 is the hardest. I’d guess that route 1 is 5.4 and route 80 is 5.13.
I’m serious, and I want to make the US Team: Paraclimbing Nationals is a qualifying event to make the US Climbing Team. Traditionally, top 4 US finishers get invites to the team. Every odd year is the World Championships that we attend as a big group. Otherwise, making the team will allow you to compete at other events internationally (world cups, other national championships) while representing the US.
Is there any prize money? …no, but I’ll give a hella high 5 and a hug to anyone who tries their best.
Are you a brand or company interested in supporting Paraclimbing Nationals as a sponsor? Please reach out to learn more - click the ‘Contact’ link at the top of the page!
How YOU can support Team USA Paraclimbers at Worlds!
Turns out, it’s expensive to train for a World Championships, let alone get your butt to France to compete. I’m super lucky and have sponsors that help cover my expenses, but most of the para-athletes do not. Most are full time working professionals that now have to figure out how to make a trip to Europe work so they can bring back hardware for Team USA!
Like last year, I expect we’ll have 30 athletes representing USA at worlds. Below, I’m compiling a list of group and individual fundraisers from my team mates. I’ll leave it up to you to decide who you’d like to toss some dollar bills at. Every single damn one of these folks are worthy of your time and cash - so good luck choosing just one...if you can!
Brittany Rae Davis/ Team ACG
Brittany will be headed to her second WCH this year after her debut last year in Innsbruck. You can read a bit more about her here in this great article from Rock and Ice.
Brittany has designed a rad tee and tank set to raise money for worlds. Any excess raised, she says, she’ll donate to other members of the team through the Adaptive Climbing Group. Click Here to Buy Your Shirt
Team Central Rock Gym
Team CRG is sending athletes and their callers to Briancion. Based in Boston, this team has been growing fast, and if you’re in the Boston area, you should definitely check them out! This will be both athlete’s first time at the WCH. You can donate to them here.
Trevor Smith
I’ve been climbing with Trevor since he was about 13, and it’s been incredible to watch him grow into a real try-hard machine - yeah, he outclimbs me now, I guess I just have to be OK with that! He came in second place at last years WCH in Innsbruck - his first ever international appearance. Since then he’s been training his tail off - if anyone has a shot at a gold, it’s this guy! You can donate to Trevor here.
Corey Ramos
People think that Corey came out of nowhere at this years Paraclimbing nationals, taking gold in Men’s Leg Amputee as well as overall male top finisher - but Corey has actually been a part of the family since the very first nationals in 2014, taking a break to have three beautiful kids. He’s back with a vengeance, and I’m excited to see him crush on the international stage for the first time ever. To support Corey, Click Here.
Team ACG
Team ACG, or Adaptive Climbing Group, has programs all over the country. This year 9 athletes will be travelling to worlds under the ACG banner. You can find their page here.
The Gimpy Belay
More and more, I’m getting emails and calls from folks that are either an adaptive climber themselves - or work with someone who is - about how to belay. Sometimes it’s just a check in for the best technique, other times it’s because the gym they’re going to refuses to belay certify them because they don’t fit in the belay check box.
Hopefully, in the near future, my partners and I will develop a video to accompany this blog post. Until then, I’ll be building this out to work as a reference to how folks with different disabilities CAN belay. This will be a work in progress, so keep checking back and shoot me messages with any questions, clarifications or suggestions). I’m going to go ahead and publish this unfinished for now, because this information really needs to get out there!
Note - this will only make sense if you’re already quite familiar with a typical belay method of PBUS. As always, seek qualified instruction.
UPPER LIMB DIFFERENCE
HAND AMPUTEE (CAN USE ELBOW)
This is the category I fit it. Top rope belaying is quite simple and you can use either a tube style device or assisted braking device. For lead or toprope, I prefer to belay with a Petzl Gri Gri. I can use just one hand to pull slack up, use my stump to hold the tail and to slide my hand back up to the device or tuck the tail between my knees to slide my hand up. If the rope is double wrapped at the lead anchor, I’ll often squat to take rope and bring up the slack as I stand up.
Lead belaying took a little longer to figure out, but again, there’s totally a way to do it. Here I always use my Petzl Gri Gri *. I’m able to use my right hand just like the official Petzl method, but instead of using my second hand to pay out slack on the climbers side, I pinch the climber’s rope with the inside of my elbow and pull it out that way.
I don’t get the same amount of range and can short rope if my climber is doing a giant monkey clip that I’m not ready for, but this method is completely legit as the business/safety end isn’t affected.
ARM AMPUTEE (NO USE OF ELBOW, NO USE OF SECOND ARM AT ALL)
This is folks who truly have one arm, or function as if they have one arm. For this, I’ll use my friend Dan as an example. Dan actually has two arms, but had a bike accident where he hit his shoulder so hard that all of his nerves were severed in his right arm. So, he can feel with it still, but he can’t move it or grip with his hand. His left arm is still totally normal.
LOWER LIMB DIFFERENCE/SEATED
STANDING
This might be a no brainer, but someone with a prosthetic leg or other conditions that allow them to still stand while belaying…are just regular belayers. Nothing exciting to see here, folks!
SEATED
My friend Jess is an amazing climber and a super safe belayer - and she’s missing her leg through the hip. She uses crutches to get around, and sits while she belays. Sitting is often a point of contention when it comes to belay checks, especially in a facility that rigidly follows rules that aren’t meant to be inclusive. The thing is, when you stop to think about WHY that’s a rule - it’s because a seated climber implies a lazy belay from someone who’s not paying attention, or is seated in a comfortable location that’s too far away from the line of the rope to be safe. Outside, you do have to deal with the belayer being able to move around from objective hazards, but in the gym? Just make sure the climber doesn’t have loose shit in his pocket and they’ll be fine. For Jess, and other disabled climbers that would sit to belay, as long as she is in the correct line of the rope and is paying attention, a seated belay is a safe belay. Sure, keep enforcing the no-sitting rule for every gym bro and broette, but think outside of the box when it comes to adaptive belayers.
VISUAL IMPAIRMENT
“Ok,” you’re thinking. “Now here’s one where it’s really, truly, for real not possible to belay - right?” You would be wronger than rong*. Blind or Visually Impaired belayers are some of the safest that I know. I’ll use my friend Bill Casson as an example. If I’m the climber, I don’t leave the ground until Bill actually feels my knot, that it’s going through both soft points, and verifies with me watching that his belay device is rigged properly and is locked. When was the last time you had such a thorough partner check with one of your abled friends?
When it comes to VI belaying, systems checks and communication are key. A quiet space helps, so the climber can call clearly to the belayer. The climber may have to give more feedback than they’re used to for slack and tension, but that’s about all.
*see what I did there?
The Cirque of the Unsh!tables
This is the first in a series of vignettes telling the story of my first ever alpine expedition, in August 2018 to the Cirque of the Unclimbables in Canada’s Northwest Territories. You can read about the cast of characters here.
Let me tell you about my friend and the expedition film maker, Taylor. Taylor doesn’t like poop. He finds great discomfort in the ease with which I can discuss my own lower GI tract situations. He doesn’t feel that way because I’m a girl; I get the impression that he’s just a generally private pooper. “Goddam it, Mo,” he’d protest. “You’re obsessed with shitting. You’re disgusting.”
Fairy Meadows has a fantastic outhouse with an ingenious design – a platform over two giant plastic tubs, that the ‘house’ section can roll over the second once the first is full. At the end of the season, a parks service helicopters the tubs out to be disposed of…elsewhere. The temps stay cool at that latitude, so the smell stays pleasant. There are few enough people up there that only once during out stay did I have to wait on someone. The view on your way to the hidden hollow where the house was tucked away was of the gorgeous sheer face of Mt Harrison Smith. In short, shitting in the meadows was easy.
When we realized we would be bivying on the LFT, rather than doing it in a day, our shits got a lot more complicated. “Yup, this right here,” Pat said proudly, patting his mini orange haul bag, “This here is for our shit. I’ll bring one wag bag. We can share*.” That’s probably going to be uncomfortable, I thought to myself. Taylor let out an audible gulp, and Jim – as always – looked non plussed.
After a day of climbing the first 10 pitches, we arrive at the bivy ledge. It’s a flat grassy spot about 30’ wide and 15’ deep. It’s a nook, with walls on a short and long side, and the rest of the ledge is open to the glacier 1,000 feet below. We fix a line along bolts on the back of the wall, and tie in with a rope end loosely around our waists, just enough to keep us from dying if we did manage to fall off the edge, but supremely comfortable after 12+ hours in a harness.
I was famished and thirsty, but I didn’t have to poop. I can’t say I was feeling all that happy. I was exhausted and scared from the wild climbing we had done that day – surfing picnic table sized blocks, horrendous run outs on questionable gear, having other parties rain scree down a chimney onto our heads, all while wearing a bigger pack than I had ever climbed with. Still, I didn’t have to poop.
We didn’t arrive at the bivy til 11 pm, when the northern sunlight was just beginning to fade. Tucked in our bivy sacks, the stars appeared; shortly after, the green northern lights were faintly dancing over our heads. Contrary to the weather the rest of the trip, the night was warm, still, and dry. I woke just before the sun and had a pee that I’ll remember forever – sat over the edge, my rear suspended over the abyss as my body bridged a gap between two large blocks, and a view of glaciers and unclimbed peaks without another soul (save for the three men sleeping behind me). A five star piss on a four star scale. But still, I didn’t have to poop.
As we racked up after breakfast, Pat leaned against the back wall like a cowboy leans on a fence post. “Goddam it,” he spat out slowly. “I don’t think I have to shit, but if I don’t shit now I’ll have to shit later and then I’ll be fucked. God-DAMN-it.” The next 8 pitches were all hanging belays.
Jim shrugged. “I don’t have to poop, but go for it.”
“Me either,” I added.
Taylor was staring at the ground. “I…I think I should poop.”
Pat grunts and goes for it. There isn’t much privacy on the ledge, so we’re all in this ride together. He pulls out the pieces of the wag bag – which, we learn at this point, is a cobbled together home made wag bag – and sits in relative peace while we turn around.
“Ok Tay,” he says while shitting. “So there’s a sheet of plastic here that you shit on, but I only brought one. So I’m going to shit on it, then you’re going to shit on my shit, then you’re going to roll that shit up and stuff it in the bag. Cool?”
I wasn’t sure but I think I could see the color leave Taylor’s face. Was this all a power play on Pat’s part? A move to be the alpha male of the group? Was Pat taking advantage of knowing how Taylor felt about poop – especially other people’s?
After almost two weeks without a shower, Taylor was looking haggard, and now he looked broken. All he managed was a weak acknowledgement of the situation as he sullenly accepted his fate. Pat finished, and Taylor slowly made his way to the steaming sheet of plastic. “I got ya, bud,” Pat said as he zipped his pants. “I sprinkled some grass on the pile so you don’t have to look right at it.”
“Thanks,” Taylor mumbled.
And so, we three stood gazing out over the range of the cirque, watching clouds swirl over the summit of Mt Probiscus, listening to car sized blocks thunder off of the mountain flanks to the glacier below, while Taylor layered his shit on top of another mans. “Oh GOD” he choked over and over. I thought he might be near tears, but I couldn’t tell, and I wasn’t going to look. Finally, he finishes his contribution and gingerly picks up the corners of the overloaded plastic sheet. “Jesus”. He manages to get the sheet inside of the zip loc without much fuss, and deposits the whole bag into the haul bag.
Jim and I looked at each other. “Nope, still good. I can save it for the ground.” The fortunate side effect of the extreme dehydration we were experiencing was that I didn’t have to poop (or wasn’t able to) for a good 48 hours, long after I was back to the safety, security, and privacy of the Fairy Meadows outhouse. I think Taylor will be going the planned dehydration route in the future, so that he will forever have the privilege of never having to share his shit sack again.
*Wag bags are 100% NOT designed to be shared
Cirque of the Suffering - Cast of Characters
An adventure is only as good as the people you share it with, and that’s especially true if said adventure goes south more than a handful of times. The Cirque of the Unclimbables had no shortage of crazy characters. Here are just a few of them:
Taylor Zann, The Filmguy – Taylor is young, but I forget that a lot as he tells stories of his travels around the world. He is a gifted film maker, yet this is his first big trip- let alone as the solo force behind the camera. He cannot be trusted with cookware. Based out of L.A., Taylor grew up around the Seattle area where he learned to climb with his dad. He brought only low top approach shoes and light weight sneakers to the Cirque and regretted everything.
Jim Ewing, The Hardman – Jim is a climber so strong and prolific you should have heard of him but probably haven’t. I was climbing with him in CO when someone asked a question on anchors. “Oh, the quad?” he said casually, “I invented that.” He’s engineered climbing ropes for over 20 years and will terrify you with facts on how easy it is to cut them. He has a wife that’s way cooler than him, and a daughter that gives me hope for the future. While on vacation in the Cayman Islands, he did an oopsie and landed hard, broke a bunch of things, and decided that having two legs is overrated and chopped one off, joining my club. This was Jim’s dream trip, so, really, this is all his fault.
Pat Goodman, The Team Captain – “Oh, you couldn’t be going up there with a better guy than Pat,” a mutual friend told me as I was checking references. “He can be a crusty asshole, but that’s pretty much why we love him.” Pat wrote the book (literally) on climbing in the Vamps and Cirque – you can find it in a three ring binder at the Inconnu Lodge and in an ammo box tucked under a boulder in Fairy Meadows. The Cirque is in the middle of nowhere with complicated logistics; Pat handled all of that as well as being our camp chef. I only got the runs once with him at the helm.
Hey Fishy Fishy - Suck mah Stump!
"Fishing! I thought this was a climbing blog!" I hear ya, and let me explain. A few years ago I bailed on my husband for a long holiday weekend to go climbing. I felt kinda bad, so I booked him a fly fishing guide for while I was gone - he'd been saying how he wanted to try, but didn't know where to start. Fast forward a year or two, and he's hooked, and convinces me to try it. My line isn't in the water more than 15 seconds when SLAM! a trout sucked down my fly and I caught my first real fish.
Fly Fishing is such a great compliment to climbing. Many of the areas I climb in are along rivers full of rainbows and browns. It's easy to fish at sunrise, go climb your face off, then cool down with an evening session back down in the river.
Funny thing is, I probably put off fishing because it seemed damn hard with one hand. I tangle ropes that are on the ground, how the hell do I manage a reel with a line I'm supposed to be stripping while a fish is doing his damndest to muck it all up, and try to look as good as Brad Pitt while doing it? Learning to fly fish with one hand was MUCH HARDER than learning to climb. Hopefully, I can share some of my stump hacks so that others can enjoy.
STEP 1: TENKARA
I was first introduced to Tenkara style of fishing by a friend who was working for Tenkara USA. 'Worried about managing a reel? Just skip it!' he said. So, skip it I did. Tenkara was pitched at me as beginner and one hand friendly. It was, and now that it's been 4+ years, it's actually still my go to set up. When bringing in a big fish I’ll still (sometimes) need help netting it, but then again, people with two hands are also often using a buddy system to land the big one. There’s not much else to say about this style as it truly is simple, and it’s wonderful because I can fish the exact same as the two hander next to me.
STEP 2: WESTERN
First, let me be clear: I still kind of suck at Western. My tenkara practice has been very deep, and I feel like that motion and pole are just an extension of my body. There are some waters, though, that dictate needing the reach of a Western rod. My technique is still…experimental, to say the least, and is quite noisy in the way of rod movement through the cast. That said, I catch a lot of fish on it, so they don’t seem to mind?
I pinch the leader with my finger when the rod is forward and create a loop of locked of leader. On the back cast, I put my stump through that loop and pull against it, making the loop bigger. At the apex of my back cast I release the loop, sending the excess line shooting out behind me, ready to be rolled forward. Stripping line is a bit tricky and does involve a lot of noise on the rod as I use my stump to pinch the line on my hip then slide the rod forward on the line. Bringing in a fish is easy once I switch to the reel, I just hook my stump under the knob and spin.
STEP 3: ACCESSORIZE
Foam Tie Blocks: These are usually used for winding leaders with flies on so you can have your rig ready to go when you’re in the field. I mostly use them as my ‘hand’ when I’m tying my flies on to line - I’ll squeeze the foam between more knees or hold against my chest with the fly in it, and that will hold the fly stable while I tie it on. These are easy to lose, so snag a couple.
Chest Pack (Ditch The Vest): I never went for a vest, and went with a hip bag instead. Being able to spin the bag around and use it as a shelf to tie on flies was huge. Since then I’ve switch to a chest pack that I wear as a sling bag, specifically, I’m using the Fishpond Cerveza because…beer coozie. Tenkara fishing emphasizes minimalism, and not having a ton of shit is something I try to practice when western fishing, too. If I can’t get it to fit in that pack, odds are I don’t need it.
Stump Tape - Not Just For Climbing: A thick layer of stump tape allows me to hook a fly through the tape, if I’m too deep in a river or can’t use the foam block for another reason.
Whistle: For when I hook a big guy and need help with a net, or when I can’t manage the fish on my own to get out a swallowed or overset hook. Also for general safety, when I crank on that sucker everyone for miles can here me say ‘HALP!’
Boa Boots (Korkers Darkhorse for Women) - Boa lacing systems have been an incredible find for me, especially for cold and wet environs where I don’t want to have my bare stump out collecting ice. I’ve loved them on snowboarding boots, ice climbing boots, and now Korkers has made the first pair of women’s Boa boots. Not only are these a major upgrade from the shitty clearance beginners boots I had before, these are quick and easy to lace with one hand - I’m now beating my hubby out of the car and to the river even faster.
A Note on Climbing
The following was written for, and published in, the 2018 Guidebook to Membership Magazine for the American Alpine Club. You can learn more about them and support their mission here: https://americanalpineclub.org
I had been climbing a few years before I went on my first “climbing trip”— the kind you finish ready to quit your job and move into a van. Rumney hadn’t been high on my list of places to visit; images I’d seen of strongmen on lines like Predator (5.13b) deterred me until a crew of friends finally convinced me to give the place a chance. We loaded up and headed out for a long weekend. The trip was classically New England: camping at Rattlesnake, enjoying late fires next to the river, and climbing slick schist in the most humid, mosquito-infested conditions you can imagine.
Over those three days, it dawned on me that you don’t have to be the bro hang-dogging on 5.hard to be a climber. Each rope I flaked, each bolt I clipped, and each burnt pot of spaghetti brought me closer to this all-consuming world where I could be a climber. The climbing community is bigger than grades. We have shared experiences—no matter who we are, what we’re climbing, or whether we’re doing it with one arm or two. Near the end of that first day, I was close to sending my first route at Rumney. It didn’t matter that it was Granny’s Route (5.4)—when I got to the chains, my friends were cheering even louder than my heart was pounding.
Sitting in a lecture hall back at school in Vermont, scratching at mosquito bites and picking at tape lines, I wasn’t thinking of the lesson on the board but of the lessons from the rock. That failure is ok. That we learn more from our mistakes than our successes. That sharing in the wins of others can be more meaningful than our own.
Rumney became my first love, and set me on a path to many others. It’s already been twelve years since that trip, but the stoke hasn’t waned. I’m always left wanting and looking for more, and with the confidence and family I’ve gained since those first trips to Rumney, I know I have what it takes to find it
The Project
WHAT: Climb 5.12 before I got too old and decrepit. That timeline got expedited when friends decided to film the process and wanted a happy ending for a piece that had a finite due date.
WHERE: Damned if I knew where to start. Fortunately, I have a good friend who has climbed too many routes in the area and knows my style. He picked out Reefer Madness for me (11a, my first ever real 'project' that I bagged in April 2016), so when Days of Future Past was on his list of ticks for me, I figured that would be as good as any to start with. A first TR burn had me thinking 'You know, this doesn't feel any harder, or more impossible, than the first time I got on Reefer. I think this could go...'
WHY: The answer should be to see how far I could push myself, to find a challenge that would get me to be the best I could be - but that would be bullshit. When I step back and think about why, it's because of my own insecurities and the constant nagging feeling of needed to prove myself to the world. Especially as I've been getting more attention for my climbing in the recent years, I want to feel like I've actually earned that attention and all of the cool opportunities that come with it (free shoes!). I have a complex where I imagine strangers talking about me, and saying 'Yeah, she's ok...but it's only because she has one hand that anyone even cares.' Somehow, I thought that getting myself on a climb that had a benchmark grade of 5.12 would make me a 'real' climber - one handed or not. Is this a healthy approach? Probably not, but it worked out. I also think it's cool to change the conversation from 'Wow, I couldn't do that with one hand!' to 'Wow, I couldn't do that with TWO hands!'
HOW: Siege tactics, single pitch style. I knew my best chance was to get on something that had a more technical, less burly crux, because that meant sending was more about solving the puzzle than being stupid strong. That said, I had no idea how long it would take. In the end, it was about 4 months of problem solving followed by a month of execution. I was there after dark, til near midnight, on multiple occasions. There were stretches where I was up there after work, three days a week. I believe the final 'days - on -route' count is in the mid 20's. The bottom and the top of the route was pretty simple and straight forward, so I essentially spent 5 months working a 12' section of rock.
THE RESULT: By now it's obvious that I'm only writing this because I got the send. Clipping those chains I was hit with a wave of relief, then...nothing. Completely anti climatic. My friend John summed up the overall feeling: 'Finishing a long term project is an interesting feeling. It isn't the pure elation and joy of just barely hanging onto something, or fighting through and sending something you probably shouldn't have. It's more like the completion of an eventuality, satisfaction that your practice paid off, but ultimately an empty feeling.'
I don't feel like I conquered 5.12 - in fact, at the end of this process the grade became irrelevant. It was more about the climb itself. My general take aways?
- Why the eff did it take so long? Once I found my beta, it went after only a few days of effort of linking everything together.
- It didn't feel that hard, in the end. My RP burn on DOFP felt no harder - maybe even easier - than my RP on Reefer. Crazy, right?
- Clipping the chains, this first thing I felt (after relief) was a nagging voice - 'What's Next?'
SO, WHAT'S NEXT? When I started this process, I was under the impression that bagging a 12 would be the peak of my career. I'd know I could do it, then I could peace the hell out and become a 5.8 climber who eats a lot of cup cakes for the rest of my life. In fact, the opposite is true - I'm now more motivated than ever to become a stronger climber, because I know I can be stronger. I can be better than DOFP. This is only the beginning.
Special shout out to James, Eamon, Ashley, Lane, Chad, Tommy, Nellie, and everyone else who had to catch my sorry ass on the same move over...and over...and over again. It takes a village.
The Sleeparu (Because Sprinters are for Sissies)
I'm appreciate that culturally, climbing is a sport that celebrates individuals who live in or sleep in their cars. There does seem to be a certain level of extra appreciation/perceived romanticism for those who give it all up - the job, the mortgage, the three cats and a parakeet- to live in their $50,000 converted Sprinter van. As of today (6/14/2017) the hash tag #vanlife gets 1,543,740 hits on Instagram.
What about the rest of us? We weekend warriors, we fearless many? Those of us who need to commute, transport passengers, get good MPG, have a load of furbabies to transport but want to sleep in the comfort of a cozy car cocoon? Who aren't afraid to travel for a few days without a queen sized bed, full kitchen, and enough space to have a rave with 17.5 other people- but love to be able to crash in a Wal Mart lot when needed?
I give you: THE SLEEPARU. I bought my Subaru Impreza in 2012 for about $23k. I paid it all off this year and decided to go big into figuring out how to make it the perfect combination of an RV and a zippy commuter car. I spent a lot of time planning where everything should live to maximize comfort, space, and efficiency. I've been rocking this a few months now, and I've got my system dialed. Yes my car is dirty, and I decided to take pics with the car mostly unloaded so you can see the goods. I'll add geared up photos later.
Essential Components
Curtains: I tried a lot of different things, with the initial goal to have nothing permanently attached so I could still sell my car at some point. I started with magnets embedded in fabric that would stick to the door frame - that worked until I sneezed and the whole thing would fall off. Velcro would peel off everything but the glass in my rear window. So, I said screw it and screwed in - I own the damn car and a few holes in the carpet won't make or break the sale of a beater Impreza. I ended up with these from Camping World and they're great! I bought clearance blackout curtains from Target, cut to size and installed.
For the rest of the curtains I hung a rod between the oh-shit handles behind the front seats, and the rear window is a Velcro panel. All along I have some Velcro and tie points to really secure the fabric down and in place. The set up might not be Wal Mart parking lot perv proof, but it's totally great for camping at any crag. When not in use, all tie out of the way so you can still drive around with no blocked lines of sight. Finally, I got a front window sun blocker to add another layer of dark. Result? I totally comfy cocoon that I can sleep in, roll windows down for a breeze, and get changed without worrying about giving the world a free show.
Sleeping Platform: With my front seat slid all the way forward, I had plenty of room to stretch out. But, the surface of the flat seats was uneven, and I was forever stuffing packs in the footwell to sleep on, then would inevitably need something out of the bottom pack. So, I wanted a platform, but it also needed to be modular so I could slide the front seat back when not sleeping. I also couldn't have the platform be super tall - no storage underneath- the Impreza does NOT have a lot of headroom to spare!
That said, since it would have to be raised to some degree to accommodate the slope and level, I decided to pop a retractable table underneath. It simply pulls out and has a single fold down leg, and hooks on the inside of the trunk on the other side. With one sheet of 8x4 3/4" birch, I was able to build platform, table, and a windscreen for my stove. I did carpet the top of the platform so my sleeping pad wouldn't slide around.
The platform does attach to a ring in the frame of the car so if I were to get in an accident, I wouldn't have a plywood projectile. I did poly the wood, and I'll probably add a few coats each season just to keep up with scratches. the best part about the platform is I can remove it, by myself, and it stores in the garage very small.
Power & Lights: I'll admit, I'm a Glamper. I like to read my books by a decent light, have my white noise app going all night, and keep my phone charged. I decided to splurge on a system from Goal Zero, combining a Yeti Power Station with a series of chainable and adjustable lanterns. The power station can run the lanterns, charge every phone in the group, and still be going strong after 5 days. No more dead car batteries for me! The station stays fixed, and the lanterns move around as I need them - on the back hatch when cooking or hanging out, and over my pillow for reading and snoozing.
*****
Now, I do need clearance sometimes, or am going on a longer or more gear intensive trip. For that, I have a built out 2009 Tacoma - and I'll do a post on that one in the future!