Category: trip reports

Categories
climbing general trip reports

deep water deep water deep water

The weekend was spent playing in the water at Summersville Lake (deep water soloing if you will). We had a pontoon on Saturday, until a thunderstorm came along, and some people started to get dubious about how well lightning and metal boats go together. So the boat was returned, we were pelted with rain for 3 minutes, then the weather was perfectly fine again. Of course!

Lara and Captain Ducky (or possibly Admiral Ducky?), one of the more awesome floaties from the weekend.
 

lara and captain ducky

Boer jug hauling his way up the arete
 

boer climbs at summersville lake

Plans to go bouldering at full moon were ruined by the weather, which kept getting overcast and thunderstorming on us. Come Sunday morning, everything was soaking wet, and most of the crew were keen to get back to civilisation – except for the hardy group who fought their way down to Pirates Cove and swam around in the sun, enjoying the views and gorgeous sunny weather for a few more hours. I don’t know how we managed to do it, really I don’t.


Val in Pirates Cove on Sunday morning
 

summersville lake
Categories
climbing general trip reports

congealed pools of blood (or, how i learned to stop worrying and love seneca rocks)

You realise what a fragile grip you have on your climbing lead head, when you start up the third pitch of a climb, stick your head out around a corner, and are confronted with a large shiny, sticky pool of congealing blood. It’s bright red still, with flies crawling around it. It’s also exactly where you need to go. You’re 40 metres up the climb already – you knew there was blood somewhere up here, and you knew the guy was fine – he just nicked his ankle apparently, you’d heard him yelling down to his belayer about it. You just weren’t expecting quite so much of the stuff.

He and his partner kept climbing – oh, they certainly did, as there is blood sprayed all over the rest of the pitch. Gingerly following a trail of blood, and trying not to get too queasy as you look down at the rope below you, and the swathes of blood zoom into focus, multiplying. Suddenly everything seems a lot harder. It seems like you’re looking into the future every time you look down, and the pool of blood lying there is yours, waiting for you to fall and create it. Dizziness overtakes you as the queasiness from all the blood goes to your head. You clasp the rock in front of you – it’s still cool from the morning. Your helmet rests against the rock, as you try and calm down, and return to the task at hand.

The climb is supposed to be a 5.5 … well that’s about a 10 in Australia. Even taking into account the Seneca sandbagging, the moves you are looking at doing seem a lot harder… more like 16? Your hands are sweating, and you have no chalk. You look down and across to work out where the traverse is supposed to go, there should be an easier way – oh, there’s the blood again. Getting it together for a minute, letting your belayer know to watch you, you haul yourself through a few more moves, get some more pro in, backed up with one of the ubiquitous dodgy pitons. The traverse here doesn’t look any better. And look, more blood. The sun has moved over, and you lie there, hugging the rock, and wondering what the hell you’re doing there.

A few hours later you’re standing in the river at the bottom of the crag. You got off the climb ok. Everyone is fine. It wasn’t one of the days you climb for, but right now the river is cool, and you can stand here watching the ripples in the water, and nothing else matters.

Categories
climbing general trip reports

the heartbreak of a moose-less canada trip

My trip to Canada was notable for its complete lack of mooses. I thought British Columbia would be a hotbed of roadside and campsite moose activity, but it wasn’t to be. I feel cheated. There were quite a few chipmunks however. (The more interaction I have with chipmunks, the more I’m convinced that they’re vaguely evil. They have a tendency to try and stalk you, which is more unnerving than it should be.)

On arriving in Vancouver, we received a rather alarming grilling from the immigration official – it went on from the fairly reasonable ‘So how do you know each other?’ (we met in the training camp) and ‘What are you planning to do while you’re here?’ (capture all of your mooses and train them to do my bidding, so that they may be my minions in my quest for global domination) to ‘So… what sort of knives are you using?! {insert ferocious glare}’ (someone’s been watching Vertical Limit).

I came to the conclusion that Canada was relatively civilised though. They have $1 and $2 coins, their money isn’t all the same colour, it has the queen on it, they can actually spell ‘cheque’, they use metric measurements, and they have Mars bars. Although they still drive on the wrong side of the road.

Squamish is the most fantastic climbing destination. I’m developing an unhealthy enjoyment of crack climbing. And slab climbing (despite the protestations of my climbing partner, Mr. Boer ‘Did I mention I don’t like slab climbing… I can’t do the move even if I use the bolt’ Zhao). The only unfortunate part is that it seems to like raining there. Rather a lot.

Skaha on the other hand, is a less salubrious destination. No snow capped mountains in the background there, although there are lakes and rolling hills. Unfortunately the warmth and lakes brings hoards of tourists in RVs, who fill up the town. The climbing is crimpy, which could be fun if your finger tendons are in full health – but an alarming number of holds sound hollow.

Boer climbing against the backdrop of the Squamish logging

squamish

Sweet sweet granite cracks

squamish

On top of Stawamus Chief

squamish

Views from Stawamus Chief

squamish

Conclusion – I must go back to Squamish. More photos are up in the gallery here (ok, fine, they’re not all up at the moment, they might be by the end of today).

Categories
climbing general trip reports

Then the storm would pass, and they would go back to their primitive lives, chasing rabbits and impregnating their womenfolk.

The world’s most mediocre climbers have discovered a dangerous new way to defy gravity — free soloing above a lake, which sometimes has swell from passing motorboats, which makes it really extreme, and totally hardcore.

I’ve just seen the future of climbing. It’s not on Everest, or a wind-lashed Patagonian spire, nor is it on some gargantuan wall in Yosemite Valley. It’s in West Virginia, on some sandstone cliffs above Summersville Lake.

I insinuated myself into a clan of cragrats, practitioners of a new mode of climbing called “deepwater soloing.” I was bobbing in the swell from passing speedboats at the mouth of a gaping cavern, watching the 31-year-old American phenomenon Terence ‘Vegas’ Kudo perform on an as yet unclimbed route he was calling ‘Vegas in a Blender’.

…. back to what you were doing people, there’s nothing to see here.

deep water soloing

 

deep water soloing

Oh, and we did things on dry land too. I’m not sure why. Only mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun … to play in a suntrap.

hawks nest dam

Today’s title brought to your courtesy of a random quote from johnnyb. Today’s images brought to you courtesy of the EOFSO – Equal Opportunities for Stalkers Organisation, as well as Vegas (first image, and squad of ninjas), Boer (second image, sound effects and staff twirling skills).

Categories
climbing general trip reports

we like the water

Deep water soloing at Summersville Lake. Was fun. More coherent comments and some more pictures may be on their way, but I should really do some work now (more pictures under the clicky link thingo).

Hoards swarming over the rock

deep water soloing
Continue reading “we like the water”