Over the Rainbow Wall

My triceps ache. My calves are tight. I have a lingering whole-body soreness; this soreness I’ve been craving all winter long, a reason to rest.

It was evening. The sun was setting and a light breeze made temperatures perfect; warm enough to wear shorts and a tank, but breezy enough to raise the goosebumps -  my favorite time of the day. I was making pasta for our big day and getting the rack together. Jim kindly dealt with spilled milk in the food container.

He turns to me, “I’m pretty intimidated by the route tomorrow.”

“I’m not. I’m gunna climb with it no expectations. My goal is to get to the top.” I responded.

Normally, I am intimidated by routes, and get anxiety when diving into an unknown outcome. I scrutinize the topo, read every report online, and find out as much information as I can for a long route, but today, I felt light. No concerns for the outcome, just stoke to enjoy something that would be hard for us.

Rainbow Wall, although checking in at 12a with sustained 5.11 and 5.11+ climbing for 14 pitches, had rappel stations at every pitch, making a descent or retreat with even a 60 meter rope casual. The noncommittal nature of the route put my mind at ease. Worst case-scenario, we bail. Best scenario, we onsight, but I doubted my abilities.

Two days prior, I onsighted my first 11c gear/mixed route Texas Hold ‘Em, and now we were jumping into a significantly more sustained climb. Jim has an impressive resume including an onsight of Astroman (11c) and the Roman Chimneys (11d) in  Squamish and an amazing ability for onsighting. I had no doubt that Jim could onsight the route. He knew this too. Me, on the other hand, I onsighted my first and only 11b on the Rostrum, and my first 11c two days before. This would be our biggest free climbing challenge yet.

We rock, paper, scissored for the pitches - one person would get the 12a and 11c while the other person got both 11ds. The rest of the pitches would be split evenly. I hoped to get the 11d pitches; they looked better than the 12a crux. Jim won the game and got the crux pitch. My wish was granted.

The alarm sounded at 5:00 am. We were rested, prepared, and psyched. We strolled to the gates 10 minutes early (6:00 am opening) and shoveled last nights leftovers into our mouths. The guidebook states that the hike was 1.5-3 hrs. We figured about 2 hours. Not fast, not slow, just steady.

We got to the base in an 1 hr and 45 minutes, exceeding our expectations. The Rainbow Wall looked much bigger the closer we got to the base. Accents of green, blue, and purple blended the adobe colored rock to make it’s namesake wall. The route was obvious - a long left facing corner to a ledge system to a beautiful red dihedral system up high.

My stomach churned. It’s going to be a long day.

I turned to Jim, “let’s split the 5.11 corners above the first 11d crux. I’m going to be too fried to lead the last 11b.” Suddenly, I wanted to change game plans. Leading the high 5.11 pitch sounded intimidating and I thought I’d be too gassed for it.

“You can’t lead every good pitch Alix.” Jim whined.

“Well, maybe we should just block lead then, and we won’t have to do two hard pitches in a row. People do it all the time. Most people do it on hard climbs.” I was making excuses for not wanting to lead that high pitch.

“Ok... you lead the first half. I lead the second.”

“Wait, but I wanna lead one of those mega-classic pitches up high!!” My voice raised. Those corners looked perfect.

“I want to lead the first crux pitch then. How about you lead the 11c off the deck? Then, you take over and link the 5.11 corners. I’ll lead the last 11b.”

“Deal.” I liked that idea. Unfortunately, I wanted to lose rock paper so I didn’t half to warm up my lead head on an 11c, and now here I was, leading at my limit first pitch of the day.

I started up the low angle, blocky corner for about 25 feet before I had to make a real move to get to the first bolt.

“Damnit Jim. There’s no pro and I have to step on small holds. I hate not having pro.” My mind started to clutter with fear, normally it’s irrational, but I felt justified this time.

“You can come down and I'll lead it or I'll clip the first bolt for you.”

“Ok, clip the first bolt. Thanks.” I ashamedly replied.

Jim scurried up the corner and clipped the first bolt with ease. I haven’t climbed with many people that are as confident about their abilities as Jim was. I could have easily made the clip, but I lose confidence if I think I’m putting myself in danger. I did have to make a couple of extra stem moves to get to the bolt, and was grateful that I had a princess top rope for it.

The rest of the pitch was sustained. Thin movements between face and corner climbing kept me on my toes. And at one point, I had to grab a jug, paste my feet against a blank wall, and just walk them up to get a high foot right near my face. My feet were sputtering and I was gripped. I barely got by, and that moment gnawed at my mind for the rest of the climb.

I like to make things feel easy and look easy. Climbing is a beautiful art and one of the reasons I love it so much is when things just flow like a well-choreographed dance, but done as improv with grace and beauty.

I clipped the chains. I’ll take it. Desperate and thrutchy as it was, I onsighted my second 11c and I was elated. The next pitch was the first “hard” pitch of the route.

A wide layback off the anchor guarded the corner up high with the cruxes bolt protected. After Jim moved through the layback, he yelled down, “So this is what hard climbing looks like.” I couldn’t see anything, but I assumed the corner was desperate and thin.

Jim huffed and puffed his way up the pitch. He moved to the face and did one of those jug, foot paste, high feet scramble, that I did earlier as well, and then back into the corner. We realized that much of the climbing on this route required this.

When he clipped the chains, he let out a big howl. He was psyched. It was his second 11d trad/mixed onsight. I followed the pitch clean, not feeling as desperate as I did on the first pitch and climbed in control. It was a combination of burly lay-backing, precise smearing in the corner, stemming, and thin face climbing.

The early hard pitches were over. According to Yosemite and Red Rocks hardman, Dave Allfrey, who convinced us to climb this route, the middle 7 pitches were soft and could be done quickly. We swung leads and linked a couple of the pitches. The two 5.11 pitches were still thought provoking, but much less sustained than the first two pitches. After simuling through the 5.7 blocky ledge and chimney system, we were at Rainbow ledge.

One more pitch of 5.8 lead us to the base of the next two crux pitches of a beautiful red dihedral system. It was my lead. Off the anchors, there was powerful lay backing and stemming past a bolt to a large jug in the corner. After pulling myself up onto it, I was staring at a blank corner. Tiny crimps of nothing were chalked on the right wall. There were also large chalk stains on the blank face where people smear palms. In the corner were two tiny seams that you might be able to press a thumb on one wall, and crimp the other; there wasn’t much. The left wall had one garbanzo-bean-sized foothold chest height and nothing else. I couldn’t get my foot that high.

The bolt was at my chest, but I was still scared. Did I not want to fall because I was afraid of falling or did I not want to blow the onsight? Any fear associated with the fall was irrational. I was completely safe, but I still had to keep telling myself that. Despite the bolt right there, I was scared.

I climbed up and down, up and down, trying to find something that would work. Everything felt weird and awkward. The crimps on the right face were shit, and the ticked feet on that wall made no sense. The left wall didn’t have much for feet.

I convinced myself I was safe and that I should try a sequence, commit to something. I found a smear for my left foot, pressed my right palm on the right wall of the corner, used the seam as a thumb catch, and stood up on that foot. I stemmed between the two sides of the corner, and found myself statically reaching for the jug. The movement felt graceful and secure.

I was in disbelief. I yelled down to Jim, “Did that just happen?!”

My heart was racing and I had to calm myself before finishing the pitch. Even though the boulder problem was over, the rest of the pitch was still sustained. I moved up slowly, placing gear when available.

I hollered at the anchor, “WOOOOO!” 

I extended my anchor so I could watch Jim do the boulder problem. He tried the high left foot, but it was too high for him too. Then, he tried my beta. He followed it perfectly, and executed the crux sequence. He was at the anchors in no time.

Now, we sat under the last crux pitch of the route, and the hardest pitch -  another corner with a couple of bolts, and no feet. It was Jim’s turn to take over.

“I know you can do this Jim.” I assured him.

Getting past the first bolt was tricky. Both sides were mostly blank, but there was a tiny seam to use in the corner for your hands. Jim smeared his knee on the left wall, pushed his hand against the right wall, back stepped, and reached for a crimp to stem out. The first crux was over. He lay backed and stemmed, placing gear through strenuous incipient corner cracks to the last bolt. From there, desperate stemming on smears lead to a jug. He was through the crux. Jim let out another howl, unaware that the climbing wasn’t over.

There was more 5.11 climbing to the anchor, but Jim’s greatest strength is pulling out his reserves through endurance climbing. He finished the pitch clean, his first 12a onsight. We screamed like monkeys on the side of El Cap. I was proud of him.

I followed the pitch clean, but just barely. It was a strenuous lead and I fought for every layback and stem. I was grateful for the top rope.

Jim lead the final 11 pitch which was mostly face climbing, sometimes utilizing the cracks in the corner. I lead the last wandery face pitch to the top.

WE DID IT!! We howled to the setting sun. But when we topped out, there was a ting of numbness. That was it. I suddenly felt directionless like our purpose was lost. We just onsighted our hardest route, but my feelings were neutral. All of the adventure and excitement came to an end in that instant. I was sad it was over. I always thought I’d be overjoyed with stoke after climbing something epic in good style, but I was already longing for another challenge to focus my sights on. We took one more look out the beautiful expanse of Red Rocks and started the long, dark descent.

It was over.


*    *    *

In total, it was a 17 hour car to car clean ascent of Rainbow Wall. Rainbow Wall, although a big day, is very safe with almost all of the cruxes bolt protected and gear the whole way. A light rack of gear and draws with short pitches makes this route very friendly and I strongly recommend anyone breaking into the grade with all day endurance to try it! You might surprise yourself.


It was our first time to Red Rocks and we had four days. We drove out from Bishop and climbed Levitation 29 and Texas Hold Em the first two days, and then Rainbow Wall the fourth day. It was a good sampling of Red Rocks and we’re dreaming for another return! Maybe next weekend :)


That was by far my biggest endeavor and one of Jim’s as well. Maybe we’ve gotten stronger from sport climbing in Owen’s River Gorge all winter or maybe we were just lucky. I was lucky to get by. After single pitch cragging all winter, it was amazing to get high on beautiful cracks and face. So stoked for more trips to Red Rocks and our Yosemite season this Spring!

GAHHHH, I love rock climbing.

The Joy in Failure

Everyone enjoys success - the feeling of accomplishment, pride, adoration from others, praise. What's not to like about success? Whether it's onsighting a hard route or acing a final in college, we can all relate to the pride and joy that comes with success.

The other day while I was trying my "project" Green Wall Center (V6), by far the hardest thing I've put time into,  I realized that I didn't like bouldering because of failure. One day, I get on Green Wall and feel so good - even reach a new high point. And another day, I can't even get off the ground. I want to give up, to quit, move on to something else to feel success.

Unknown climber on Green Wall Center. Such an aesthetic climb!

I'm tormenting myself inside and negative comments fill my mind.

Why can't I do something that felt so good just days before?

What's going on with me?

I left the bouldering field, broken and discouraged.

I'm never going back to Green Wall. 

As a trad climber, I give everything to onsight climbing. In order to do a long route, it's important to feel comfortable at that grade so you don't get be-nighted (having to climb through the dark).  I give one try-hard attempt to most routes for the onsight and I often never go back to the route. Having had Yosemite as my crag the past two years, I have repeated routes, but rarely more than 3-4 times.

When you're bouldering, you try and try ....and try again. I've tried Green Wall around 25 times, still with no success. So. Much. Failure. 

What I'm starting to learn is to find joy in failure because let's face it, we all fail as much as we succeed and if we're not failing, we're not trying hard enough. And if we're not trying hard enough, we're not reaching out maximum potential. So I can either embrace failure or never push myself and with four more months of bouldering ahead of me, I need to deal with failure.

Failure is good for the character. It keeps me grounded and humble. Just when I think I'm starting to figure things out, I get smacked down. And when you finally reach that goal, send the problem, get into graduate school, it means so much more because you took the time and gave the effort and attention it required to achieve that goal.

I guess I am starting to view failure as a means to success. I just like climbing, the movement and the technique, the attention it requires.  Sending a problem/route is definitely important, but not the means to success. Success should be derived by the path taken and the effort given. Success is trying really hard. Success is consciously working on something you're bad at. Success is having fun.

Ryan on Rubber Tester (v0). Holdless climbing, PSYCHED.

So the next time I get frustrated with a climb, I just gotta remember that the journey is what really matters. Those brief moments of clarity in the mountains. The countless hours of suffering and pushing past your comfort zone. This is how we grow. This is my success.

Easy living in the Buttermilk Country

You might have already come to this realization, cheers to you! Cheers to trying hard! Cheers to failing and having a damn good time! Because at the end of the day, having a good time is what makes us happy, and a happy person gives off good vibes and good vibes are infectious. 

And remember,

"The best climber is the one that's having the most fun." - The Late and great Alex Lowe

Summer Travels III - Squamish Days

Toby in Squamish 

Squamish moments- when people and ideas collide to create spontaneous awesomeness! Squamish moments happen all the time. For example, you're walking down the street and seeing your friends driving by. They flag you over, and then you're headed to a friend's house for a random movie and dinner night, a quintessential Squamish moment!

Here are a few of my favorite experiences I've had while in Squamish over the past six weeks.

Booby-Trapping Banana Peel

A barefoot banana peel booby trap night ascent! Marc-Andre, a Squamish local, and I climbed a route called Banana Peel (5.7) up the Apron at night and barefoot (because I lost my climbing shoes earlier that day...typical). Not that exciting, right? Think again! We put banana peels all over the climb after baking a bunch of banana bread. How fun would it be to climb banana peel with banana peels all over the climb, in the cracks and on the ledges! A few friends climbed banana peel over the next few days and said that other random parties enjoyed the pleasant surprises on route. TOTAL SUCCESS.

Party Wall of 'The Wonderful Thing About Tiggers'

Drew came up with the idea of bringing as many people as we could to climb a long lost ultra classic on Mt. Haybrick just behind the Chief and escape into a semi-alpine environment for the day. Drew, Jim, Ryan, Gwen, Clinton and I headed out there to party wall this hidden gem! This day was filled with lots of laughter and Jim's rendition of 'The wonderful thing about tiggers' song.

Too many people on the rope bridge

Ryan following one of the awesome pitches!

Blackberry Pancake Night

Inspired by Cody and Celene's blackberry pancake breakfast one morning and with a rest day ahead of us, Jim, Clinton, and I decided to go blackberry picking to make pancakes for dinner! For those of you who haven't been to Squamish, one of the many perks of care-free Squamish living is the massive abundance of wild blackberries in August- along the streets, by the crags, skirting the train tracks. We were able to fill two big containers and a large sand pail full of blackberries. Next, we got enough ingredients from the store to make 60 pancakes so everyone at camp could enjoy a pancake or two. Finally, the crux of the situation was making all of these pancakes. Not only did we add too many blackberries making the batter super runny, but we also decided to make a proper (full) PAN cake (get it?). Its pretty hard to turn over giant pancakes, I must admit. We aborted the massive pancake mission after about an hour, added more ingredients to make batter instead of soup, and were finally in business. After a pancake or two, we noticed that things were moving in them.

"Are those worms?" someone asked.

We didn't care. The heat would kill them and we'd get added protein. All the batter was used after a few hours of flipping, and the campground was stoked on the awesome blackberry pancakes! Squamish awesomeness.

The Crew 

Me heading up the Split Pillar

Sam on Astrologger, the coolest flare chimney!

I have been in Squamish for nearly six weeks now and it seems as if I was driving up the coast of Canada with Drew yesterday. Where does the time go? Slowly, we are all migrating to different places- some of us back to work for a few months, others heading to school, and many, including myself, are headed to the alpine, the Bugaboos. Another great adventure to be had!

My time in Squamish has been nothing short of amazing. I've been able to get on most of the routes I've wanted to do this season. I've had some success, some days where I was in way over my head, and other days of being completely terrified on apron slab climbs, but overall, I've had a blast on every route I've gotten on. My goal this summer was to become a well-rounded climber so I've spent time slab and offwidth climbing to learn and improve my technique, and I have noticed these improvements. What I've cherished more than the climbing here is the community of Squamish. Most of my favorite memories on this leg of the trip have been derived from random adventures, lazy days, and rest days. I hope to spend many more summers in Squamish crushing the gnar (lol), laughing a lot, and eating good food. Cheers to another incredible summer!!

Summer Travels Part II - Moments Frozen in Time

Trout Creek - Good Company
Sitting at a picnic table in a campsite at Trout Creek with the Dechutes River roaring a few yards from us, I sat there...exhausted, sunburnt, and scraped from a vicious offwidth attack. A slight breeze saved us from the sweltering afternoon heat, and the shade was our savior. We decided to collaborate on dinner. Ryan put porkchops on the table. I rummaged for eggs, tortillas, and a variety of vegetables. Drew brought the spices, and of course, avocados! (what meal is complete without them!). I sat there, theraputically chopping the vegetables and savoring the smell of garlic. Ryan sizzled the Pork Chops, and Drew prepared the avocados. We talked about life, music, culture, anything but climbing. The soothing sound of flowing water and Ryan's music created a blissful atmosphere. I sat there thinking, I feel so alive right now.

"This is the life, the good life," one of us mentioned.

I couldn't have been more content at that moment in time, a memory I will always cherish. The simplicity of good company and a beautiful setting.

Index - Nature
The ground is a dark, earthy brown, moist and fertile. Trees with wild, winding roots are covered with vibrant, green moss. Slugs move liesurely along the forest floor, and the snow melt pounds down the river. I sit on a rock with my feet in the water, watching the water flow in awe at something so powerful. I think about water, its beauty and importance for all creatures on Earth. My mind drifts to the mountain above me, Mt. Index, and the challenge a summit on it would provide. How humbling and inspiring nature is. My appreciation for all things wild continues to grow immensly.

Washington Pass - Freedom
The sun was tucked behind the Cascades and an evening glow illuminated the fields that were scattered with barns and horses. Windows were rolled down and a warm breeze kissed my cheeks. Angus and Julia Stone's "The Beast" was serenading my friend Drew and I as we headed to Washington Pass. This moment in time has been one of my favorite of my trip on the road. We spontaneously made plans earlier that day to do an alpine climb in the pass, and headed there with our friends Mark and Lauren. This moment defined the immense freedom that I felt as we drove to climb in the mountains.


It's been nearly three weeks since I've left Yosemite, and I am now in Canada. I've climbed some outstanding rocks over these past few weeks, but what I'm learning more is that the journey and these quiet moments are what I savor the most. Cheers to good company, the planet, and freedom.

Summer Travels Part I- Yosemite Valley and the Salathe Wall

I can't get enough of this place, really. After fall, winter, and spring in the Yosemite, I find myself right back there as soon as school ended, May 18th.

After a few days of live music, good company, and lots of laughter, I pack my things in a frenzy, per usual, for the summer. Two backpacks, a bike, and some crates of food. The next morning I'm sitting in the Camp Four line, making coffee, and catching up with my other friends in line. I am home.

The following day I got on Moratorium, 4 pitches, 11b, a beautiful corner system with lie-backing and stemming, my favorite. And to make the day even better, my partner, Owen and I were going to link it into East Buttress of El Capitan for a full day of epic climbing, 17 pitches in total. This grand day ended in a shattering heartbreak when I heard my elbow pop on the second pitch of the Moratorium and I took the whip.

This was day two of my summer vacation, and with so much psyche leading up to this, I was feeling so anxious about this injury and didn't want to stop climbing. I had a brilliant idea (as all of my ideas are brilliant) ...the Salathe Wall. I told myself over and over again that jugging wouldn't hurt my elbow, aiding would feel cruiser, and all of the wide pitches would be using other muscles. Perfect. I'd still be climbing without actually aggravating the injury, and climbing El Cap at that! Life is good.

Beginning of the Salathe- a long way to go

I texted my friend Elliot, "Salathe Wall!" We had climbed half a day together prior to the wall at the Cookie cliff, and the last time I saw him was at Indian Creek where we camped together for a few days, and now we were getting on the Salathe. Typical Alix style, always down to climb with anyone. Elliot, shredder of the powder and crusher of the rock, is stoked on climbing and down for anything so I knew he'd be in. He convinced me to take one more day of rest before pre-hauling to Heart Ledges (which I considered a rest day, ha!)

This procedure felt very familiar given that I did the first twenty two pitches of the Salathe Wall two weeks prior. We pre-hauled to Heart Ledges on Wednesday, and what a day it was. As we walked up to the fixed lines, there was a porta-ledge hanging from the first set of anchors, what looked like 5 haul bags, three people, and another  dude aiding up the base of La Cosita right. I stood there, perplexed, amazed, and slightly annoyed that there was such a traffic jam.

This is going to be a long day, I thought to myself.

That day ended up being super fun and Patrick, the dude aiding up La Cosita to retrieve some lost gear and his partner, ended up sharing the route with us and it was so much fun with them!

The next day we blasted up Freeblast which ended up being wicked cold and windy. Elliot linked one and two; I linked three and four, and then we swapped to the top. Aiding through the slabs took some trickery and for the love of god, that half dollar pitch pwned me. I lead this pitch the first time I got on the Salathe and fell once coming around the corner coming into an insecure and slick flare. This time, I fell twice and ended up aiding through the crux. We made it to Heart with some time to spare and Elliot fixed a pitch off of Heart that evening. Heart ledges is a plush bivy for four with an incredible view of Ribbon Falls and the Cathedrals and it even has an accommodating toilet on the far right end. The fresh scent of urine is a dead giveaway.

The sun doesn't hit us in the morning, but it's radiant enough to awaken us from our deep slumber 1200 ft off the deck. As we were packing up, an in a day party passed us, and to my surprise, one of the individuals was Brad, a Valley crusher I see often in Yosemite. Brad lead the pitch off of heart faster than I jugged the thing. Needless to say, it was super inspiring to see two individuals move with such fluidity and efficiency on this massive sea of granite. They ended up topping out in under ten hours, I later found out ...like a boss.

That day I lead the hollow flake which was exhausting and a little spooky and I even had a Valley giant for protection. I deeply admire everyone who does this without protection, it's effing scary. I had a bit of a breakdown on the following pitch the first time I got in it.

Picture this: 5.7 flaring chimney, not too bad, right? Especially after the hollow flake. I chimney up this about 25 ft with a wall rack, including a 4, 5, 6, and a valley giant and I didn't even end up placing any of them because you can't protect it. I suddenly can't move anymore. My eyes swell up with tears, I think I'm going to die. There are some flakes on the outside of the chimney, but they are marked with X's and when I try to step around it, I move another block. I'm really in trouble now. I try to inch up some more, but no progress is made. I scream down to Daniel and eventually we find out that the haul line was caught under a rock. Once that problem was solved, I moved around the flake, placed good protection, and felt at ease once more.

5.7 Death Flare

I know this sounds very dramatic, but that pitch really scared me, and my belayer, too. I had no intention of leading that pitch this time around. No-sir-ree, not me! It was all Elliot's pitch.

After the hollow flake, I handed him the gear and sent him off into this chasm. Now, a background on Elliot, he has very little wide experience and hadn't climbed in six months, and I just sandbagged him into what I thought was the scariest pitch on the route. When he got on it, he felt the same way, too. After idling in the chimney for a while, he decided to come down. Annoyed and slightly terrified to do it again, I went up and finished it with some whimpering. It was still scary.

I turn the lead over to him for the next pitch, and then I lead the following 10c pitch that I french-aid-free climbed and the infamous Ear, which I was super stoked to do. I aided through the 10+ crux, beautiful steep thin hands, which felt like a sin because I'd totally lead it on the ground, but the wall rack was weighing me down (excuses!).

So much exposure!

The Ear was fantastic. I found the crux to be getting into the horizontal chimney and unashamedly, I pulled on a number four to get established. After that, it was super enjoyable. Just imagine, you're very high off the ground chimneying horizontally with in-cut edges for feet, so freaking cool. This is where we caught up with the party in front of us. This is where I waited for 2-3 hours before I could fix Elliot (which was awesome because Patrick and his friend were super cool), and this is where I found out I was missing one of my Guide Tennis Shoes. Facepalm.

I spent around 5 hours at that belay, chatting with Patrick and his friend above us, cracking jokes, keeping moral high, and belaying Elliot as he lead the C1+ with one four and one set of offset cams. Not ideal. Elliot had to back clean most of the gear and when most people use two number fours to cam jug (meaning placing and pulling a certain cam size because the crack is parallel and only fits that size), he had to use a very tipped out three and a four to make it work.

Gazing out at the Meadow

 [Gear Explanation: When I refer to number sizes, I am referring to the size of the crack based off the Black Diamond Camalot size. Cams are used as protection in cracks. They are spring loaded and can contract and expand. When you put them in cracks, you pull a trigger and contract the cam and once the cam is inside you let go of the trigger and the cam expands. When placed correctly in good rock, these cams are bomb proof and can protect you from falling into oblivion.]

I finished cleaning the pitch as the sun was setting. We had one more pitch before we reached our bivouac for the evening, El Cap Spire. This last pitch was also Elliot's lead, but the team ahead of us were kind enough to let us jug their fixed ropes so we could get to the spire in good time. We had settled on top of the spire around 10 pm. This was probably the most taxing day as a whole for me, but also the most fun. Patrick and his partner whose name I forgot were so stoked to be on El Capitan that they were full of joy and laughter which was very infectious. Elliot is also super fun, hooting and hollering and cracking jokes the whole time. It was a BLAST. This is why I am hopelessly devoted to the Captain now, days like this.

Gear cluster on El Cap Spire

The next morning I woke up very sore, but we had to keep going. This is right around where we bailed on the previous attempt on the Salathe.  I had lead to the base of the chimney twice before so I was familiar with the pitch and decided to lead it for efficiency. The first time nearing dusk on our first attempt, but I came down, tired, scared, and without wide gear. The second time, when we were pulling our ropes to bail, it got stuck, so I re-aided to the base of the chimney to get it out. I linked the two pitches off the spire with a lot of grunting and thrutching in the 5.9 squeeze. It felt VERY demanding for a 5.9 squeeze, which I typically like. The fatigue must have been setting in, my excuse.

Elliot followed the up, and then we let our new friends jug our lines to return their favor yesterday. I lead the following pitch as well, the Teflon Corner which was pretty casual. This led Elliot to lead the infamous Sewer pitch, and in fact, it was a mess of sewage slew.

The Sewer- 10c or C2

He linked this into the next which brought us to the Block, a super cool sloping bivy that could fit three and possibly four with some tetris action. Because our friends allowed us to pass and the Block wouldn't be ideal for four, we decided to push to Long's Ledge which would be a very LONG day (lol!) given that there were six pitches of C2.

Elliot was such a champion this day. He lead three more C2 pitches to get us to the base of the roof right around sunset. I took over, leading the roof, and headwall pitches to Long's Ledge. The full moon illuminated El Cap as I slugged up the Headwall. The roof pitch was wild. There was a ton of a fixed gear that littered the series of roofs I had to aid through. I was dangling in space with 2000 ft below me...wild. Patrick and his friend cheered me on as I slothed upward.

The C2 on the roof pitch was not bad at all if you have offset cams, and there were some fixed nuts as well. Elliot took some whips following the roof which made me very glad to have lead it. He reached the anchors around 10:30 pm, and we still had one mega-pitch to our next bivy (if you link the two together). The headwall proper was utterly breathtaking, steep and splitter forever, very easy to aid, but I back cleaned the hell out of it placing 3-4 pieces the whole pitch and clipping a few fixed pieces. It felt like a crime to aid something so beautiful, probably the most beautiful crack I have seen.

The short C2 pitch is what really shook me up. Some thin gear leads you to a shitty flare that would have been easier to free/aid, but I had NO interest in free climbing so I made things very difficult by placing pro in the back of the flare. The flare caused me much grief as I watched my feathers float effortlessly out of my puffy jacket as I went into a frenzy trying to get through this thing. A few more thin aid placement and clipping some fixed gear got me to one more placement before I reached the ledge. No nuts or cams fit in this place. I spent some time trying to fiddle in gear, and had no success.

I yelled down to Elliot, This seam is too thin. Cams and nuts don't work in here and I have NO idea what to do.


His response, Cam Hooks!

I have never placed a cam hook before, but I've heard that you'll never forget your first cam hook placement so I was in for a treat. I pulled out the two cam hooks we had, placed one, and gingerly stepped on it. Pop! I fell a foot onto my daisy. I tried the other cam hook and the same thing happened. It was pretty spooky. I fiddled with the gear a bit longer and found myself stepping high on it, and grabbing the glory fixed line.

I was so tired at this point that I was almost becoming delirious. Hauling felt incredibly hard given the state of fatigue I was in when it should have been easy. Very steep and a light load. When I finished hauling and docked, I moved over onto the ledge which was about two feet wide and just collapsed. Elliot reached the belay at 2 am. We ate some food, and I passed out very quickly.

Long's Ledge

The next morning was slow moving. We slept in knowing that there were just four pitches to the summit and all straight forward. A party of three rapped in from the top to stash water for their attempt at Freerider. They were super psyched and a pleasure to talk to. Coincidently, I ran into them at the El Cap Bridge bear boxes and they had found my dropped shoe on the Hollow Flake Ledge. Score! I didn't need to buy a new pair of shoes anymore.

We got a very alpine start of 11 am and summited around 4 pm. We climbed THE SALATHE WALL! ZOMG. I thought the Salathe was definitely a step up from the Nose. There is more mandatory free climbing, harder aid, and the climbing itself was just more burly. This is the proudest moment I've had rock climbing and its definitely my favorite route. The Nose is PURE fun, but the Salathe really makes you work for it and I enjoyed that. I'm also one of those masochistic people that enjoy wide climbing so I was thrilled on the wide pitches.

Almost to the top- PSYCHED

Overall, I couldn't have asked for a better time. Elliot was super positive, supportive, and pulled his weight. Patrick and his friend that we hung out with as well had more psyche than anyone else I've met, and the parties that rapped the Salathe to store water were super inspiring. Oh, and HUGE props to Luke Stefurak for lending us the Valley Giant twice. I wouldn't have climbed the Hollow Flake without it.

I'm dreaming big. One day I'd like to free it, but so far away...

The rest of the time spent in Yosemite was very relaxing given that I had these nagging elbow injuries. I did manage to climb Half Dome with a good friend, David Gealy, in 11.5 hours which I was super stoked on. I hiked from the Valley to Tuolumne, 21 miles in 7.5 hours and finally lead Butterballs for the first time and pleasantly surprised myself with a few falls. Other than that, I biked around, enjoyed the sunsets, laughed for days, swam in the Merced, and spent way too much time shooting the shit at the Curry bear boxes. Life can be so simple and fulfilling.

Hidden Falls

David on the summit of Half Dome

View of Cathedral and Mathes Crest on my power hike

Leaving Yosemite is always emotional for me because it's where I most feel at home, but it was time for a change. I'm eager to return in the fall with more goals than I will ever have time for and enough psyche to fuel many seasons there.

Oh Yosemite, I love you so.

Pre-Finals Meditation- a confidence inspiring rainy week in Yosemite Valley

We bailed off the Salathe, 22 pitches up. Two full days of stellar climbing, not using my aiders for nearly both my blocks, leading the infamous hollow flake! It felt good, much less tired than the Nose. After watching a lightning storm across the Valley, a morning drizzle, and onimous clouds, we decided to bail. The next day it rained. After I bailed for the first time on Lurking Fear in February, I left Yosemite with a sour taste in my mouth, annoyed. Damn you, Captain!

This time, I was pretty content with the bail. I'm really excited to get back up there and finish the Salathe, hopefully this season if I can rally a partner! After bailing, Daniel and I rolled into Camp 4 where we were greeted by homies, Alan, Jim, and Nate. I was home.

The rest of the week had spotty weather. The day after the bail, Jim, Alan, and I went to the chapel wall to "project" Drive By Shooting, 12a, a very classic Yosemite sport climb, one of the few! Last year, I top-roped it clean, and that was by far the hardest thing I had sent on top rope. After almost NO sport climbing for a year, maybe two days over the past year have I sport climbed, I figured I was going to flail. To my surprise, I fell twice on TR for the warm-up attempt, once on the second, and repeated that pattern again for four total attempts on top rope. Every single move is hard for me and I feel like I could fall at any moment. Since I haven't been sport climbing for the past year, my falls have been pretty small for the most part cause when I'm scared, I place a lot of pro.

When I was top roping it, I was thinking about how it would feel to lead it, and I was just plain scared. The bolts are about ~6 feet apart which is well-protected, especially by Yosemite standards, but for a trad climber that pro's the shit of things, that's pretty dang far! That day, Jim sent it on lead, second go, his first 5.12! It was really inspiring to watch. Jim is the kind of person that is ALWAYS smiling making you feel at ease, and ALWAYS psyched to climb, making you want to climb, too! The rain came and went through the day, but the climbing is overhung enough that it doesn't get wet with the brief spirts of rain.

Alan, a 58-year-old quirky crusher, who puts me into fits of laughter 90% of the time we hang out, didn't get the send that day, but did get the TR send. After my fourth go, we bailed, psyched as ever to get our first 12a! 

It rained most of the evening making the following day a rest day for Alan thus a day off from our Chapel Wall project. I convinced Jim to go climb so we got on Demon's Delight, 11a, traversing a bunch of thin hands cracks to a sweet fingery traverse. We swapped leads and both sent. It started raining after the third pitch so we bailed, have to go back for that fourth pitch 11a mantle! Another great day in Yosemite. Later that day, it started to pour, and by pour water, I mean, flooding Camp 4, the Lodge reception area, employ housing laundry areas, and other parts of the Valley. At one point, my chacos were ankle deep in water as I ran to get on the bus. It was pretty wild.

The next day, Alan and I decided we were going to head back to the project. On Alan's second attempt, he sent! It was amazing to watch. The dude is 58 years old and sending harder than he ever has before! I have a lot to aspire to when I hit that age. He hooted once he sent, and started dancing when he came to the ground. It was a beautiful experience to be a part of, Alan's first Yosemite 12a.

Now, it was my turn. I haven't really thought about climbing 12a since I started trad climbing last year. Grades are so variable depending on style, sport vs. trad, and since I've focused so much time on crack climbing, and 12a is WAY out of range right now, I haven't really thought about hard sport climbing. On the warm-up attempt on TR, I felt REALLY tired. The moves weren't flowing well, and everything felt like a struggle. I fell twice after the crux in the hard-11 section above. As I was getting lowered, I thought to myself, "Wow, this thing is never going to go down, and I'm on top-rope. Leading it would be a disaster."

After watching Alan's inspiring send, I decided to lead it. Draws were up, and whipper therapy would be good for my lead head. I was really scared. I certainly surprised myself. I felt good, cruised through the 12a crux, and fell off in the 11+ section where I totally messed my beta. After getting back on it, I got to the top without too much effort. It was a bittersweet feeling. I was so happy with myself because it was by far the hardest thing I've ever tried on lead, haven't attempted to lead any sport climbing above an 11b before, and nothing above 11 for trad either. But at the same time, I botched the sequence above, so I was annoyed with myself for blowing it.

I have been really trying to not focus on chasing grades because for me, personally, it takes the fun out of climbing. I like climbing, weird body positions, stemming, placing gear, pushing myself mentally, knowing when to rest or keep going, and just the beauty of problem solving that goes into it. Drive By Shooting has such beautiful movements on it, I could climb it all day. Everything is hard for me, and it's very technical. The footwork has to be precise. On this next attempt and probably my last since my finger tips were shredded (it's a finger-tip climb), I told myself, as Alan would say, "I'm just going to enjoy the movements of the climb and have fun. No expectations."

Again, with more effort exerted than the previous, I still got through the crux section and whipped in the same spot, and this time, from just being too tired after hesitating in a semi-ok rest. And like before, it was bittersweet, but more sweet than bitter.

I was really happy with my effort, and more than anything else, stoked that I was on the sharp end. Getting over the fear of falling is something that has taken time for me, and it's a continual process. Lately, I've noticed that I'm not sewing things up as much, becoming more confident on easier terrain, and moving more efficiently.

Yosemite 11a is starting to feel less intimidating. Yesterday, I got on Hardd at the Cookie, a climb I tried on  TR last summer when I was just starting to crack climb. Oh man, I was cursing my way up that thing and falling all over the place (there is a notorious off width section in it).  I decided I'd try it thinking that I was probably going to flail. I fell once before the crux when my foot slipped off a hold unexpectedly. Other than that, I felt really solid, got through the offwidth with some grunting, and did the 11a finger section without too much difficulty. It felt good.

Climbing is feeling fun again and the psyche is high. Although this winter was monumental for me, climbing felt more like a task than being fun, most of this due to being highly critical of myself and too competitive with others, constantly comparing myself. I have been very mindful over the past month and a half to get rid of all the negativity associated jealousy and the ego, and I have noticed that 1) I'm having way more fun. 2) I'm climbing harder than I was before. 3) My confidence is up. And most importantly, 4) I'm just much happier overall.

Swinging Bridge- Photo Credit: Richietown

This week in Yosemite has been pretty dang inspiring watching two of my good friends get their first 12 sends, talking to people getting on the Nose for the first time, hearing other people's psyche on walls, looking up at Half Dome as I cross the swinging bridge every morning, gawking at the Captain when I pass it, and just the overwhelming beauty of a soggy Yosemite Valley.

Ah.....hanging out in Camp 4, talking to people about their adventures and where they're from, discussing and getting people psyched on climbing, getting lost heading back to the lair, sitting by the fire, being in Yosemite.

It felt like home, because it is home.

Here's to another summer of endless laughter, adventure, and climbing! Love and Light.

What's next?

In one month and one semester I will be done with my college undergraduate career and I have no plan, shocked? My mother is, and family will be, and some of my friends think I'm crazy. A phone conversation with my mother yesterday prompted me to write her a lengthy email about what I want, or rather, don't know what I want to do with my life. If you're in a similar situation, you can probably relate. To anyone that interested in reading about having no clear direction after school, here ya go:

"I wanted to address the issue of "what's next?" after school, the time-tested question that every parent asks a child as they enter adulthood.

My answer to you is, "there is no plan." After nearly 5.5 years of studying, I have changed majors countless times, been really focused and motivated on school, and have also been not so focused. And now with graduation so very near, I still have no idea what I want to do, but a pretty decent idea of what I don't want to do, so there's a start.

I've been trying to step into your shoes to understand your perspective. After having a very twisted and surprising youth that lead you to rearing a child at the tender age of 19, your life became very focused and structured as you took full responsibilities for your actions and mistakes as a teen. And for that, I am eternally grateful. You have sacrificed and worked so hard to put me in this situation, and have given up so much to give me a better life, a life you didn't have growing up. I acknowledge this.

Without being condescending or over-stepping my boundaries, your perspective on life is some-what limited. This, obviously, is due to having me at such a young age. You weren't able to fully explore life and all of it's opportunities because you were shackled or rather blessed to have such an awesome child (me! lol). Work, stability, structure, planning, organization, that's what you're all about! A hard-working woman that is fiercely independent. So it's very natural for you to feel that life should be lived this way. And Orange County pushes this life-style on you as well, and after living there your whole life, of course, your perspective will be skewed to having this idea of "life."

It blows your mind every time you ask me if I have a plan, and I respond with no. I have finally come to terms with my "no" answer as being ok. Twenty-two years young, I am certainly not wise and I have SO much to learn and explore in this world, but one thing that I have learned is that I don't want to do things unless I have a passion for them. I want to wake up every day and be freaking psyched to do something, whether it's climbing, working, traveling, saving the environment, etc. I want to have the "want" to do something and not settle for anything less.

Since I still don't know what I want to do with my life in the long term, I want to take these years to really figure out what my purpose is. As of right now climbing is a huge part of my life. I don't see this fading for a while. It tests me in ways that I've never been tested before. Physically and mentally, every aspect presents a challenge and problem that I have to work through, and these experiences help me learn more about myself and the type of person I want to be.

You think I live in a "fantasy" land and that I need to grow up. Sure, I definitely need to grow up, and perhaps my life is like a fantasy, especially through your eyes. Life is a precious gift we've all received and I want to seize every moment and make the most of it because it's too short, and you never know when you're going to go.

For me, personally, I don't want to sit in a 9-5 job to make money, rent an apartment, and climb on the weekends. It seems like a worthless pursuit if I don't really want to be working a desk job.

I know you're worried about the direction of my path, but don't be or at least try not to. I am very confident in my abilities to forge my own path, make something of myself,  and be damn good at whatever I put my mind to. So I will be taking some time, months, maybe years, to travel, learn, climb, and just become a better person.

So why did I go to college and get $8000 in debt? Seems like a waste, especially since you've been helping me since I've transferred to Berkeley, right? Well, although you might consider it a waste since I'm not entering the workforce right away, I do not. I love learning and I am grateful for the opportunity to live in a new area. Getting a college education is hard work and I have learned many useful skills that are applicable to real life such as becoming a better communicator through writing and speaking. And at one point, I was very much into school and studies. Going to college has also lead me to rock climbing and being outside, where I feel most at home and I know you're frowning about this (since you don't approve of these habits), but climbing has pushed me in a direction where I find value, meaning, and fulfillment. I feel rich, surrounded by a beautiful community of people, doing exciting things, and being content with less.

Once school ends, I will be completely on my own, and I am very excited for this next chapter in my life (as I know you are, too!). I'm writing this lengthy email to you because I really value your opinion as a person, and I want you to wish me well, rather than worry. I am self-reliant, happy, and some-what intelligent (sometimes).  Trust me to make wise and safe decisions. I think I can do that. And most importantly, and I've told you this before, GO explore the world. You need to experience things just as much as I need to, and now, that I'm no longer a hinder to you, you have no excuse! Find a passion, Mom. Find your stoke! I want you to be as stoked on life as I am.

Love love love,
ali-cat"


I also sent my mom this video, one of my favorites:

35 from ARC'TERYX on Vimeo.