For a place not known for its winter, it seemed like the colder months had been rather dark in San Diego. Heartbreak, injured and graduating partners, car troubles, and work-related difficulties had kept the crew in something resembling hibernation pretty much since October. Of course, there were plenty of local outings, but somehow the fire just wasn’t there. But the uneventful and altogether depressing season had an upside: turns out, it made for fertile training ground.
It really felt promising; as shit as life felt, at least it seemed that every week I was setting a new personal climbing best in one sense or another. As the troubles finally came to a close, I breathed a sigh of relief, demanded a week off from my advisor, got into my Camry, and drove off into the sunrise. Destination? Utah!
Day 0, I’m driving and see these… dunes? Didn’t know we had these near San Diego, but turns out Imperial County has plenty. I had skis in my car, so the next decision seemed obvious: I decided to ski off some sand dunes! Turns out, not that fun; I don’t think I’d recommend it. As I’m wandering up my final dune, the wind suddenly picked up and I got caught in a full blown sandstorm. I got close to the ground (that helps… right?) and waited out the worst of the gusts. Channeling my inner fremen, I walked backwards, with my eyes closed, occasionally dropping down and turning around to check I was still going the right direction. I eventually made it over to my car. It sounds intense, but mostly it was just kind of funny, and I was laughing for a good portion of it. In any case, point taken: don’t head out into the sand dunes without sunglasses or maybe even goggles if there’s any chance of inclement weather.
The rest of the drive went largely without incident. I slept on my newly built out sleeping platform, which is literally some plywood I glued together. After taking out a backseat and inserting this platform, I felt like sleeping in my Camry became seriously comfortable — not something I ever thought I’d say.
I got to Utah that evening, and drove up to Indian Creek in the mid-morning. As I approached, I saw what no sandstone climber wants to see: a pretty massive rainstorm cloud between myself and my destination. But I was committed, and so I drove through some mild rain and snow only to discover that the storm ended just short of the climbing! I met up with Chase, Koe, Zephi, and John in Moab, and we climbed on Wall Street for the remainder of the day.
Normally, I’d talk about how absolutely unreal the views were, how wonderful the climbing was, and how great all the people I met were, and of course, I will do a bit of that. But to be honest, for me, this trip was some kind of punctuated equilibrium thing – I shattered any expectations I had for myself. I went way, way fucking harder than I ever thought I could, for way more pitches than I thought I would.
Prior to this trip, I’d climbed perhaps a few 5.11s outside, with only one on gear a couple weeks previously. But this week, I onsighted a bunch of them, including a creek offwidth that I didn’t even have technique for and just burled through! And as my last route in the creek, onsight led a route that’s borderline 5.11/5.12 (on my phone it’s a 12-, on desktop it’s 11+)…
But that’s enough number porn. The people were indeed all amazing (a particular shoutout to Zephi and John!) who absolutely made the week. Creek pitches can take a bit out of you, and good people will spot on you stoke when your own wanes. We camped at the ritzy Hamburger campground — a spot I would recommend for those interested in camping with a large party. It’s mildly sheltered, the pit toilets aren’t smelly, and there’s lots of room. The climbing was great, too — while normally climbing halfway up up a buttress would make me a little annoyed, I came to appreciate the sheer quantity of climbing I could cram in a day.
And the adventure factor was not lacking either – a nasty windstorm hit on our last creek day, there was an awesome adventure up castleton tower (I mean, how could it not be awesome?). Castleton was really cool, but I’ll be the first to admit that the North Chimney route was absolutely covered in giant, spooky blocks — I was pretty surprised that none of them moved. I kind of suspect that the harder routes are probably a fair bit safer.
To conclude the Utah adventures, there was another storm a thousand feet from the summit of Mt Tuk.
On my way back, I took a tiny detour to climb ‘Only the Good Die Young’ at Red Rocks with Vishal, an excellent little route that was way chiller than I expected.
In any case, it was an absolutely incredible week that I will remember fondly. Coming back to reality was harder than ever (always true). But I suppose the cheesy upshot is that I was capable of so much more than I ever thought. For me, 4 years after my first all-nut lead, the gateway of hard trad is finally open, and I can’t wait to see what’s on the other side. The coals are hot, all we need now is some wood.