In some ways, traveling acts as a litmus test for the strength and purity of your love for climbing. With more exposure to people, places, and pitches, the majority of us realize this solemn truth - we are small fish in a VERY big pond.
Yours truly climbing in the "big pond" that is Rifle, June 2021 Simply Read (13d/8b) Photo: John Heidbreder
You see, I'd venture to say the majority of climbers (certainly of those I've met), started climbing before they were adults. As kids or teenagers, we have a natural inclination to prove ourselves, to best others, and to use these acts as a way of fitting in. It feels good to be good. This mentality evolves, and eventually trickles into our relationship with climbing as adults. As it becomes harder to stay relevant, or at least, feel relevant, a lot of people shove climbing aside. School, career, family, injury - these are all reasons cited to excuse people's drop in commitment. And it makes sense. When we are young, we have so little with which to define ourselves. We go to school, and we sometimes have one or two other things we do (i.e. climbing). As we grow older, those same reasons for leaving or declining in climbing are indeed very significant things with which to define oneself.
I am 26 years old, and I've been climbing for ten years now. In hindsight, what I think always set me apart was my commitment. My commitment to climbing sometimes came in drastic forms. I abandoned finding a job when I graduated, in lieu of a life spent traveling - a life sponsored by my own manual labor, some naivete, and most of my meager savings. My deified passion guided the next minute, hour, day, week, month, and year of my life.
Four or so months of this would pay for the rest of my year to be spent climbing and traveling. Backbreaking work in the midwestern wind farms.
Has that changed?
Well, it's starting to. What I'm realizing in my "old age", is that I have spent a great deal of my time subscribed to the paradigm that climbing is a zero sum game. Every choice favoring climbing over normalcy, over a career, over financial security, over a stable relationship, over other interests, over my own health even - every one of these choices I made was under the pretense that it left me with more to gain from climbing. After all, by definition of "zero-sum", every sacrifice ought to leave me with as much to gain.
And whether or not this is true, I find myself favoring, even hoping, this paradigm might hold truth. It would grant more control, and we climbers certainly crave control. And yet, desire alone doesn't beget outcome. To climb at our best, desire must be accompanied by both discipline and privilege. I wouldn't give myself top marks in any of these categories, but I do think I rank pretty high in each - especially desire and privilege.
Climbing on this wall is itself one of life's greatest privileges...though not what I mean when I mention privilege.
So what if it were true? Would that bring me closer to climbing 9a? Closer to being a lifelong climber? Closer to helping others understand and build their relationship with climbing? Closer to chasing novel experiences at home and abroad? Closer to others with whom to share those experiences?
And what if it's not true? Are my "sacrifices" in vain? Or would climbing not being zero sum simply mean I get to have my cake and eat it? Get to prioritize others and myself. Prioritize myself and my climbing. Even as I write this out, I agree with both sides. To be our best in something requires sacrifice. But to be our best in something often requires us to rely on others as much as ourselves.
So yes, I do want to climb 9a, be a lifelong climber, help and coach others...and these aspirations may not all work in conjunction. Can I coach, travel, and peak in my climbing? Can I effectively share my experience/knowledge without being rooted in one place? Neither question is as simple as "yes" or "no", but trying to exemplify "yes" to the best of my ability seems to be what occupies most of my foreseeable future. Let's see...
Five years ago, I had the trip of my life. Fresh out of college, I came to Flatanger, Norway, for 3 months. I had no experience climbing full-time, and it really changed the course of my life. I learned what can be achieved when a smart approach, a patient mind, and the right people are with you. I showed up with a single 8b/+ in my book, and walked away with my first two 8c's and my first 8c+, as well as a radically different outlook on climbing.
2018 Lohan nearing the top of Odin's Eye 8c+. Photo: John Heidbreder
Towards the end of that trip, I spent a few days exploring the moves on Thor's Hammer. The route was bolted by Magnus Mitbo, and FA'd by Adam Ondra. Magnus originally thought it landed in the 9b realm, and Adam proposed 9a+ after doing the FA. Subsequent ascents confirmed the grade until new kneebars were found, and Seb Bouin proposed a downgrade to 9a as a result.
My first ventures on the route were with the support of my friend Josh, who had just spent ~2 months projecting, and eventually sending, the route. It was really incredible to climb on. Most of the moves I could do - just BARELY, and just one at a time. The crux admittedly was beyond me, and I could never stick the final, hardest move. It took everything to hold onto the wall, and there was no chance of actually pulling through the holds in the crux section. But I could hold the holds...those perfect, fine-grain granite pinches and tiny incuts. They stuck with me for 5 years, like a dream marinating into an obsession. Those holds became my phone and laptop backgrounds. That crux would come to mind anytime I had a breakthrough. I just sent my hardest boulder. I wonder how I'd fare on the Thor's crux now...
With my two close friends from the Southeast, Braxton and Billy, I'm back in Flatanger. I've got roughly 6 weeks this time to recon the route, get to know its intricacies, its pace, its demands, its beauty. I knew my biggest limiting factor on the route would be strength, so I spent 2 months bouldering in Rocklands before coming here. It was a phenomenal trip, with a few breakthroughs in its own right. I flashed V10 for the first time, and sent a pretty daunting and brand new grade of V13 with the ultra-classic "Vice" in my final week there. I'm feeling stronger and smarter than ever, and it's showing dividends already.
I've had 3 days on Thor's Hammer so far. It's been brutally hot most days, but we've carried on anyway. It felt a bit surreal to revisit those moves 5 years later. So much has happened.... I moved into a van and for the first 3 years, I worked a bit of rope access jobs and climbed a LOT. The last two years I began working at The Climbing Academy - something which has changed my life in more ways than I can list here. And now I'm back where this dream-seed was planted.
In these 3 days I've managed to do all of the moves in the first half of the route (the hardest part). There's plenty still to learn and explore, and it's certainly the biggest project I've undertaken. But first impressions are that 1) the route is, 5 years later, still among the best I've ever tried, 2) going to be very VERY difficult, and 3) is worth it.
Each day on the route needs to be committed to a specific part. It's 65 meters of steep cave climbing, so it's impossible to just go up the route 2 or 3 times a day. Instead, I choose to work the first quarter (Q1), second quarter (Q2), or second pitch (P2 - the second half of the route after a rope swap). Q1 is the hardest, and in reality, the route would still hold its grade at 9a if the anchors were at the 7th bolt (end of Q1). However, you get about 30 more bolts of climbing until it counts for anything ;), and those 30 bolts are far from a victory haul.
Each of the above vids are the hardest moves on the route, around bolt 6. These are the moves I couldn't do in 2018...and the whole boulder is about V10. I'll add in more context about each part in the coming days/weeks. For now, I just wanted to journal and share a few thoughts about how psyched I am to feel this dream sprouting.
Eight months ago (February), I had plans to spend my summer in Norway. When I injured my finger, I decided it wouldn't be worth it, so I rehabbed until the beginning of summer. This meant one month of little to no climbing - only light hangboarding. At this point I was in Kalymnos, and I started climbing slowly. 2 pitches a day, mostly easier 7s. By the end of my trip my finger was finally beginning to feel healthy. I pushed a little bit, and was able to end my time in Greece with a couple of classic 8b's - Rakomelo and Gaia.
Sunset in Kalymnos
Summer came, and I devoted myself to training and coaching. Except for some weird hours in June, I would usually train from 12 to 4pm, have some food and a shower, and coach from 5-8pm. It was very structured, though all by my own choosing.
"What are you training for?" everyone asked.
"Spain," I'd reply.
Those that knew me well enough knew I had more specific goals than that, and prodded, "anything specific?"
"Yeah, I think I'd like to try Victimes del Passat".
And this idea gave me both focus and comfort. For an entire summer, I felt no pressure. I showed up, trained, coached, and went home. No expectations to battle, no conditions to fret over, and no mental gymnastics that always accompany a big project. If people were climbing outside, I'd usually pass without much envy. Spain, I'd think.
When I left for Europe at the beginning of August, I felt the same focus and comfort. I struggled a bit to acclimate to rock and gain endurance, but it came within 2-3 weeks. I climbed in so many new areas - Gimmelwald, Ceuse, Gorge du Verdon, Gorges du Loup. By the end of August, I found myself back in Barcelona, ready to kick off the school year.
First Europe destination was here: Gimmelwald
Amidst our few days of staff training in Spain, we were able to have some half days at Margalef and Siurana. The temps were reaching into the 90's. Being the only staff member that had arrived in Europe early, I wasn't jet lagged. I was likely the most psyched on the team, perhaps to a point of annoyance for the others. My first day in Margalef, I tried a super short nemesis 8a called Dando Brea. I sorted out each sequence with great desperation, and with even more desperation, I sent it next go. If not for some summer sessions at the Concave, I'd say this was the hottest I've ever sent 8a in.
The next day we came to Margalef, I tried Victimes del Passat. I wasn't sure whether it was a good idea, because it was again in the 90's. I knew it would feel horrible and hard, and didn't want to get too discouraged. Psych and curiosity pushed my apprehension aside, and I went up. It was a long journey to feel every hold, brainstorm sequences, and play on the moves. I could barely do a single move at a time, and some of them felt too hard altogether. I came down having done maybe 70% of the moves, and of that 70%, each of them had been JUST barely.
Typical day in the cave
An hour later, I went back up with the intention of only focusing on the 30% of moves I hadn't yet done. After another long catch, I had done every move on the route. Some of them felt like they were at my physical limit, and they were halfway up the 50 degree wall with no rest before them. But this 50 degree wall is the reason I trained all summer. I wanted to feel worthy of climbing in this cave - one of the most inspiring caves I've ever seen.
I thank my experience with travelling, climbing, and especially projecting, for the ability to stay the course when things seem beyond reach. It's funny how we often train for months with a goal in mind, and when it doesn't feel easy, we are upset. If you pick the right goal, training makes it possible, not easy. It being hard is the whole point, and I knew I had my work cut out for me.
Once our students arrived, we actually kicked off with 3 weeks in Gorges du Tarn, in southern France. This was a challenging start to the year because a quarter of the school got Covid, which forced all of us to quarantine. No climbing, no classes, and some difficult living situations. Again, though, I felt focused and comfortable in regards to my own climbing. France is neat, but I've just been climbing here for a month already, and quarantine is a nice way to top off my strength on the hangboard. Quarantine here doesn't affect the goal. It doesn't affect my ability to show up ready for the real goal. Spain.
The classic Tennessee Wall in Gorges du Tarn
And after 3 long weeks, we had arrived. Spain. Our first couple of days were the best weather we had for the next 5 weeks. I spent the first week playing with different sequences and footholds. Everything still felt hard, but after a few days I had begun transitioning from "doing moves" to "optimizing moves". By week two, I had done the route in 3 parts.
The route is called Victimes del Passat. Ramon Julian made the first ascent in 2008, calling it 8c+ to the second anchor. There is a first anchor at the end of a long resistance section, which is 8c on its own, and this was my goal. For context, I've always excelled at steep, complex climbing, with kneebars, crimps, and rests. This route was steep, straightforward, and had nothing but 2 and 3 finger pockets on it. It was incredibly inspiring, but a bit outside of my wheelhouse. I knew this long before, and this is why I spent a summer trying to build adaptations to prepare for this style. I consider my training a success, because I never felt close to being injured, and was able to climb confidently on every move the route had.
The route begins with a juggy flake system for about 5 bolts or so. This is steep but easy climbing (maybe 7a?), and ends with a no hands kneebar to rest in. From here, the route really begins. You have 39 moves between this flake and the anchor clipping pocket. In these 39 moves, there is nowhere to rest, and there are no spots good enough for me to chalk either hand. It is the most resistant climbing I've ever tried to link.
As for the difficulty of the moves, it's hard the entire way. The first ten moves end with a really hard stab off of a shallow 2 finger pocket and into a narrow 3 finger slot (which makes for a tenuous but necessary clip). The next ten moves mostly traverse leftwards, on better pockets, but really bad feet which require a lot of tension. The hold you grab after move 20 is the best one you've had since the flake, and the first moment you can take a deep breath. To get here is surely 8b+. You have no rest, and continue into the most heroic sequence of the route, and the redpoint crux. You leave the pockets for a few moves, and begin a compression sequence on decent cobbles, one of which you can kneescum against to gain the next two pockets. It requires a lot of tension to release the kneescum, and as soon as you do, you jump far above to a 3 finger jug pocket, taking a heroic swing at the peak of your pump. Once you reestablish your feet, you clip the final draw, and launch into the last 7 moves, which clock in around V5/6? These moves are on the best holds of the route so far, but have no intermediates, and require a lot of power to move between. The final move is a pogo jump into a 3 finger bucket. Absolutely heroic!
Go to 2:35 to see a few of the moves on Victimes del Passat
I spent 3 weeks trying the route with the school, and got to a point where I was consistently one-hanging. I was falling in the leftward traverse. Until this point, I had seen no one try the route. There were always people climbing in the cave, but they were on other routes. Alex Megos was trying to FA an extension to "The Journey" bolted by Tom Bolger, called "The Full Journey". Nika Potopova was trying Victimes del Futur. Anghelo Bernal was trying Gancho Perfecto. Will Smith was trying Perfecto Passat. The point is, energy was high in the cave, but there was no one to share my route with, learn from, or exchange ideas with.
And then one day, a strong Spanish climber named Martin Urrutia visited Margalef and sent Victimes del Passat on his second try. I was really psyched to see someone link together this beast, even if it's relatively easy for them. He watched me give a go that day, and fall once again in the traverse. He told me my beta was more powerful in that section than his, and so I played with his beta instead. His beta used more holds but required a ton of tension on a particularly high, slick cobble foot. I decided I'd try it once on redpoint, because in isolation it's hard to tell which beta is most efficient.
And from then on, I started climbing through this crux! I remember the first time I climbed through it, I was so pumped that I grabbed one of the best holds on the route (after move 20), and was too gassed to clip. I felt a funny combination of ecstasy for having broke through this crux, and embarrassment that I couldn't even clip from the "jug" - I had to grab the draw despite having Mr. Megos cheering "come on!" from below.
All in all, I was pretty psyched. There was definitely a part of me that thought, "Wow, that was utterly limit to get there, and there's still about twenty hard moves to go...I'm out of my league!" However, I have enough experience at this point in my climbing to understand quite well what I'm capable of. And this was possible. AND, if it wasn't, it was going to be one of my most epic fights to come close.
Time started to fly by at this point, as I was climbing 1 on 1 off, usually having 2 good attempts each day. The cave wrecked everything - skin, shoulders, back, core, fingers. My routine was to stretch for 15 minutes at home, then go to the crag and hangboard for about 20 minutes. Then I'd climb a short, maybe 15m, 7c+ called Aeroplastica which is characterized by steep pockets and pump. After this, I'd rest until I felt fresh, and go amuerte for 2 attempts. In those last two weeks, I started needing 2 days of rest between redpoints. In the last week, I was climbing consistently through the traverse, solidly through the 8b+ section. I was pumping off in the compression/kneescum sequence. My kneescum would slide out because I was too gassed to hold tension.
While I was in this "peak" mode, in which I was resting FAR more than I was climbing, I was reading Jerry Moffat's book, "Revelations". It was full of riveting stories of a lad climbing harder than I might ever climb, and doing so while sleeping in the dirt, eating next to nothing, and all in the years before I was even born. I felt like the younger me could relate to how badly he wanted to be the best, and to his belief that if he tried harder than everyone else, he would be. It made me wonder if I still loved climbing as much. Growing up, coaching, and teaching have forced me to take a step back in some ways. I usually can't go out and have the day that will serve me best. Instead, I facilitate a day that will serve others best, and have the best day I can given those parameters. Jerry would never have done that, and I must admit I really miss the freedom I once had to be fully committed to my own climbing. I think that climbing is still the most important thing in my life, but a few years ago, that statement didn't begin with "I think".
As the days went by, I realized I wasn't going to get a good conditions day before leaving. My last day trying the route was warm, still, and a bit humid. Despite all of that, I had one of the best mindsets I've ever had going in. There was one piercing passage from Revelations that I couldn't shake. It was about how board training had revolutionized the scene in the UK, but did little to prepare climbers for the mental difficulties of redpointing. Here's the concluding paragraph:
"It was never that I found things easy. I would fight like crazy, almost falling off every move, feet slipping, pumped stupid, fingers uncurling, skin bleeding, all the way to the end. But I have always believed I could do it and that's the hardest thing. People can train and work and get stronger, and lots of people do, but to arrive at that level of self-belief is much harder. And I worked on that for twenty years." -Jerry Moffat
I was SO fired up to go amuerte on the final day. I didn't let the warmth bother me. I showed up with confidence in myself and respect for the route. I felt thankful for my friend Braxton's support. The walk to Finestra felt similar to the walk I'd taken to the Concave many times. I was walking to a crag that feels like home, laughing a bit at the conditions, and excited to fight.
In my five weeks of effort, my two best goes I'd ever given were on this last day. My first try, I climbed through the kneescum crux, stuck the heroic jump move to the last bolt, and then fell. There were 7 moves left. I was beside myself with pride. It was some of the best climbing I've ever done. Near perfection - the breathing, the pace, the mindset, the fight. OH MY GOD THIS IS WHY I CLIMB.
Here's the clip of my final try on the final day.
On the previous try I stuck the jump I fall on here, and fall just after.
My next attempt, I got almost as far, falling on the heroic jump move. This time, the emotions were a lot different. I had the same mindset going in. I climbed just as well. But as soon as I hit the end of the rope, it was like the compartment I had shoved all the pressure, expectations, doubt, and negativity into was unlocked, and poured over me. I wasn't expecting it, because truly, I had left the ground with an incredibly motivated and healthy mindset. But hanging on the rope...I had to just sit there. I stared at the footholds, which looked different through watery eyes. Suddenly the mind takes over. I trained all summer for this. Damn. I keep JUST missing. Fell on the last move of an 8a+ flash in the Verdon. Fell on the last move of the 8b project in Tarn. 5 weeks of focused effort here, and fell at the last bolt. You commit everything to climbing and have only a long list of "almosts" to show for it.
Even as I write this, it stings a bit to reflect on these failures. But I have the maturity - at least most days - to understand that uncertain outcomes are the hallmark of our biggest goals. And I've also got the privilege to come back to all of these routes I've left undone in the future.
So that was it. I left Margalef, flew to the Red River Gorge for the next 4 weeks, and had a wildly successful time utilizing all of the gains I had made climbing on Victimes del Passat. In those 4 weeks, I sent Angry Birds (8a+) in 2 tries, Zookeeper and The Nothing (both 8b+) in the same week, and Loverface and Eternal Fire (8b and 8a+) in the same day. I also tried an old nemesis - Southern Pump (8b+/c) - and felt better than ever on it.
A link I made on Zookeeper, sending shortly after.
Quite different from Spain!
Every time I think about what it will feel like to stick that heroic jump on VdP again, my heart rate increases and I feel giddy/nervous. I'm confident I'll be back, but I've plenty to look forward to between now and then - including the end of this school year in Slovenia and Italy, a couple of months in Rocklands, and then my long-awaited return trip to FLATANGER.
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