Nordic Projects

Today marks 18 days since I arrived in Flatanger. I'm settling into a routine. I climb 2 days on, one day off. Most days I do some cleaning/work in the morning, and arrive at the cave around noon. There is no sense of urgency because 1) there is 24 hour daylight and 2) I'm here for 3 months.

After a couple of weeks of introduction, I felt ready to sample some possible long-term projects. First I tried Odin's Eye, an 8c+ first done by Ethan Pringle. Another french climber, Pierre, was here for 10 days trying it, which meant draws were hung and beta was available.

Pierre just exiting the first crux of Odin's Eye

As a side note, it is interesting that even the super steep or hard lines here usually don't have permadraws. This makes choosing a project a bigger investment, because unless you are bringing 40 or 50 quickdraws, you're only going to have enough draws to hang on one route at a time. And if you try it and don't like it, then you have  to spend a lot of time and effort retrieving your gear.

So conveniently, I didn't need to bring any draws with me to try Odin's Eye. After an exciting jump start, you climb 3 or 4 bolts of 7a-ish terrain, until arriving at the first crux. This revolves around a terribly thin left hand crimp, stabbing to progressively better crimps, and using an awkwardly high right heel.

After this, you climb pretty easy terrain through some juggy underclings, working towards the "eye". When the underclings stop being juggy, they start to be very wet. This is just part of the route, as it never dries.

Pierre hanging under the wet undercling section.
Josh on the left trying Muy Verdes 8c.

The second crux comes at the end of the undercling traverse. From some smeary feet and a wet undercling, you have to make a semi-dynamic, semi-controlled lunge up and right to a decent crimp. The key here is keeping your hips SUPER open (and apparently also shoving tampons in the undercling). From here you work up a slopey rail to the top of the eye, where you get an uncomfortable kneebar to shake on.

And crux #3! This is the sequence everyone fears. I imagine it would be quite the crux on point, but in isolation this is actually the sequence which took me the least amount of time to do. Kneebars and crimps (reeeeeeeally bad crimps) are the name of the game!

Crux #3, exiting the eye. Photo pulled frome google.

After this you arrive at an awkward but good left kneebar. This next section I've never heard of giving anyone trouble, but on my first run up the route, it's actually the only sequence I had to pull through. On my second run, I sorted out some subtle foot beta and managed to link the sequence together.

Lastly, you have a very cool sequence requiring body tension and an ability to cut feet while double gastoning two nasty slopers. From here, you climb a juggy crack with some kneebars to the anchor!

After 2 runs on the route, I was pretty surprised to have done all of the moves. The cruxes are super hard, but the route is well separated by some rests.

Before investing into Odin's Eye immediately, I wanted to try Nordic Plumber. If you had asked me for one goal in Norway before going on this adventure, Nordic Plumber was the first thing that came to my mind (whether or not I shared that...). So the day after trying Odin, I jugged up to the intermediate anchor where Nordic Flower and Plumber split. After a pretty long belay and approximately 2 million bolts, I arrived at the anchor.

The beginning of the second half of Nordic Plumber.

 Nordic Plumber is an 8c route which links Nordic Flower into Thor's Hammer. Essentially, you climb the entirety of the 8b/+ section on Nordic Flower to the no hands kneebar (pulling your rope all the way through here to reduce drag) and then continue another 30 meters which is 8b by itself. This link up was also established by Ethan Pringle, and arguably takes the most obvious line out of the cave.

This second half of Nordic Plumber is extremely physical. Biceps between boulder problems is how I'd describe it. The most intimidating feature of this 50 meter monster is that the crux is the last 6 or 7 meters, pumping up an extremely slopey rail, and skipping the last 5 or 6 bolts for sure.

Iva being way too strong and clipping along the final sloper rail of Nordic Plumber  

I was able to do all of the moves on my first go up the route, and on my second go (from the intermediate anchor), I linked to the final sloper rail. After an evening training sesh and a rest day, I tried the route from the ground. I fell off of the wet section on Nordic Flower, but it was worth it to practice the rope switch and rehearse the final sloper rail. No big links that day, but I decided I need to "send" the second half before I start trying from the ground.

So the next day I tried exactly that. Warm up 7a, warm up bolt to bolt on Nordic Plumber, and then I tried the link. I focused on climbing fast, and it seemed to work pretty well. Though it was desperate, I was able to send* this second half. The asterisk is because I was too pumped to clip the anchor! I grabbed the draw and still barely held on long enought to clip!

Ethan Pringle on the last boulder problem before getting to the sloper rail.

Regardless, this is a huge confidence boost and I am STOKED to put some amuerte efforts in from the ground.

Lastly, to compliment the enduro-fest that is my new project, I hung my draws on another bouldery 8a+ called Open Shoulders. This is maybe 15 meters long and SICK. Kick off with a vertical V7 boulder problem, kneebar rest, and then you climb an INCREDIBLE sequence of comp style holds. You palm these corners like a volume, scum knees, thrutch into flat corners. Unlike anything I've ever done! Stoked to have this project alongside Nordic Plumber!

Stay tuned.

Flatanger Update

It's hot here in Flatanger at the moment! Nonetheless, it doesn't seem to be stopping anyone. Seb is getting close on Move (9b/+). Almost every member of the French family I've been climbing with has sent their projects (allez François!), and I've been super pleased with myself as well.

Since the last post I had been trying Nordic Flower L1 (8b/+). I started by jumaring up and making sure I could confidently link the second half. This is essentially a mega pumpy 7c roof traverse, which comes after a no hands kneebar rest. It is possible to fall here on point, but it would be absolutely devastating.

First kneebar after the cruxy first 6 bolts

Once I had linked this, I started making redpoint attempts. Once you understand the movement and the rests, the route kind of just boils down to linking the first 6 bolts (to the first kneebar). Unfortunately there is a hold at the 4th bolt which always seeps, and so day after day, I would arrive here and slip out. I realized the route was possible when I slipped out at the 4th bolt, then pulled back on and took it all the way to the finish.

I took a forced 2 rest days due to a gum infection, and when I returned to nordic, the hold at the 4th bolt was only slightly damp, rather than the usual waterfall! After warming up, I was able to send Nordic Flower L1 first try of the day! I counted 10 kneebars/scums in total! And I have no clue the actual number, but it felt like I was on the wall for 45-60 minutes? I remember the intimidation I felt every time I sat at the ledge on Flour Power at the RRG, thinking there is so much pump and steep climbing to go. This route however, takes it up a notch. Every time you get to a kneebar, you realize how much further you still have to go. It is a test of patience to make sure you stay in each rest long enough to make it to the next!

With Nordic Flower done, I decided not to jump into anything too big immediately. I tried some more onsighting and flashing. I was super pleased to onsight the classic Berntsenbanden (7c), which I'm told is the hardest of the 7c routes on the wall. The route starts with a harder than expected 6c to a ledge. From here, you do some cool 3D climbing with some insecure smears and dropknees, until finally sprinting up a slippery stem and layback crack. There's an 8a extension I'm keen to try as well, as I've heard the 7c part is harder than anything on the extension!

I made an onsight attempt at the classic Brunhilde L1, the king of arbitrary classics. You jumar 8 meters or so to a jug, then finish quite randomly 20 meters later. Fortunately, the movement is incredible. Big moves, on big holds, with a bouldery style between rests. I hesitated too much and fell at the second bolt. After I lowered, Seb and I sprinted down to watch the world cup final. After the french victory, one beer, and many chips, we went back up and I sent the route quite smoothly. If it weren't for the inconvenient jumar start, this route could even make it onto the warmup circuit.

François on Brunhilde L1

While I was trying nordic flower, I was also intermittently trying a route directly right of it, called Dvergtrollet (Dwarf Troll). This is a very short and very bouldery 8a+, and the story goes that Magnus Mitdbo did the first ascent onsight!

The first 3 moves are some of the hardest. I would say the route breaks down as a 12 move 7B+ into an awkward and poor rest in a corner, into another 13 move 7B+. The first one is harder, but you are fresh right off the ground. The next one is mega powerful , underclinging on some of the worst foot smears I have ever used! After these 15 moves, you get a shake and exit on some pumpy 7a+ terrain, finishing just before the line would intersect nordic flower.

Damien on Dvergtrollet 8a+, about to begin the second crux

This line was an anomaly for the area. It was very sharp, demanded raw strength and power, and had little/no kneebars. It did not climb the best, but because I knew I could do it, I couldn't walk away from it.

Next I would like to shop around for a big project. I have 3 months to spend here, and I'm curious to learn what I can do if I devote myself to a route for such an amount of time. Seb has instilled quite a lot of confidence in me, encouraging me to try routes I would never have considered possible otherwise. Stay tuned!

First days in Flatanger

Believe what you hear, but double your "could-it-really-be-that-big" expectations. It's bigger. And having said that, whatever you now have envisioned, it is bigger still. You just can't understand the size until seeing it. The routes are long, the extensions are longer, the extensions to the extensions are longer even, and these still don't go half way up the hanshelleren wall/cave!

Seb under the finish of Move

Despite the intimidation I felt, I was beyond eager to climb. Walking into the cave elicited a feeling I imagine is similar to what Jay felt his first time walking into a Sheetz. I was lucky to meet and partner with Seb who is here for a few weeks trying his project, Move 9b/+. I have a guidebook, but don't even bring it because Seb is a live guidebook with move-by-move beta!

On our first day of climbing, we warmed up in the barn, which has a nice bouldering wall and other exercises. After 30 mintutes we made our way to the cave, and Seb warmed up on a classic 7c called Eventyrblanding (Fairytale Mixture). I followed suit, feeling a bit of pressure to perform. I didn't realize seb had skipped several bolts, so found myself doing the same (having not brought draws). Though it was a bit too much for a warm up, I was happy to flash this as my first route in Flatanger. There is an 8a extension that looks worthy as well!

Warm up/training wall in the barn

Seb went for a brush n' beta run on Move, and then I tried a short bouldery 8a called Flaggermusmannen  (Batman). Still a bit flash pumped, I fell at the crux. This route has an amazing crimpy intro with a tricky kneescum, which leads into - I swear - a double clutch dyno! One of the most badass moves on rock I have done! From here you get a full rest, do a lil v3/4 and then finish on a classic 7a. Luckily I was able to do this second try. I believe there is also a seldom tried 8c extension.

Next up Seb recommended I try Nordic Flower. I suspect the real reason was so that he would have draws hung on the first section of Move (which splits after doing the 8b section of Nordic Flower), but I was psyched so up I went! The first 5 bolts are incredible and bouldery. Most of the climbing in flatanger seems to be on big hands and bad feet, whereas these 5 bolts are small hands and bad feet! Nonetheless I unlocked these sequences fairly quickly, arriving to a kneebar from which Seb said the route is juggy 7c+. I had quite the shock for the next part, as I wasted so much energy on big underclings with very bad smears. The progress nearly halted and I grabbed every draw I could just to clip.... The features are so strange. It feels like my technique is stuck in 2 dimensions when it needs to be climbing in 3. I lowered off before reaching the intermediate anchor, but am definitely going to keep trying!

Such was day one!

Day two was at least as good! I had to do some work in the morning, which meant 3 hours of quite physical weed-eating. Around one or two, I walked up to the cave and warmed up with a nice crew of Norwegians that were staying in the house with me. I onsighted the classic 7a+ Tungt Møblert (they roughly translated to "Heavily Furnished"), climbing much less smoothly than I'd like. After this, I tried a short, bouldery 7c+ called Andre Hoyre (Second Right). I'd seen a video of this one, so I had some idea of what to expect.

It breaks down as 3 boulder problems separated by good rests. I made a very tough and scary second clip. Someone later told me "it's 7c+ if you don't stick clip the second, 7c if you do". I was glad to have gone ground up in this case, because I continued to flash the route! Seb was super encouraging and another french climber, François, was belaying me! A great vibe indeed.

At this point I was torn with what to try. There are so many good options that I think my biggest crux here is choosing which route to try! I was split between an 8a+ called Massih Attack, and a 7c+ called Paltergeist. I decided I should wait before sinking my teeth into something too hard, so I tried the 7c+, which is a very long (30+ meter) route. François had been trying it and hung draws, so he was able to give me beta when I panicked and asked for it. It was a funny combination of beta coming in different languages from below!

Paradise! Every route but nordic flower climbs on the sunny left side of the wall

After spending an eternity on the wall, I was lucky enough to flash this one as well! It was certainly tougher than Andre Hoyre to me, but I loved it!

I wrapped the day up getting a blistering pump onsighting Waliserne Kommer (The Welsh are Coming). I'm very eager to try the extension to this one, a bouldery few bolts that boost the grade to 8b (Waliserne Kommer og Kommer "The Welsh are Coming and Coming").

New River Report!

I'm back with a lot of renewed psych after a spontaneous trip to the best rock in the country. I'd spent Friday night in Chattanooga saying good bye to my friend Ronnie, who you may have seen crushing double digit pebbles in Evolv's new video (these ascents are now quite dated, as he has switched to crushing 5.13 sport routes this spring).

I had the alarm set for 1:30 a.m., and set off through the early hours to attempt my first wall solo at Looking Glass, NC. More on that later, but basically a storm moved in as I was half way up the route, so I rapped down.

My haul bags giving an attentive belay on the Open Book pitch (P3, C2). I avoided the
C2 sections by doing some free/french free moves making it more 5.11 C1 ish?

After several hours on the wall aid-solo, I was feeling a lack of both companionsip and try-hard. An obvious solution was to head north to the NRG, where friends and sandstone stood to fulfill everything I was missing!

So 3 Wendy's stops, 2 podcasts, and one tank of gas later, I'd made it to the AAC. The next morning, Jay, Sadie, and I rolled out to Beauty Mountain. I'd been here once years ago on an early trip to the area, and remembered getting spanked on the classic 13b, Tubin' Dudes - as in, pulling through literally every single bolt (maybe that's where my career in 5.11 C1 began?)

Anyway, I was stoked as ever. I decided to warm up on a nice looking 12b called European Vacation (the name seemed especially appropriate). My hands touched the start holds and confirmed my thought that these were some of the worst conditions imaginable. Nonetheless, it turned out to be a really sweet route that I would totally do again.

Jay taking his European Vacation, probably wishing he was in Hueco.

After we'd completed our rounds of warm ups, I was torn between a few options. I really wanted to give a fresh and honest effort on Tubin' Dude's, but the conditions were so bad that I set it aside in hopes that the humidity would drop later in the day. I eyed Zelda, a 13a which shared the first 3 easy moves or so then broke left. I knew Jay had been on it so asked him for bits of beta. I knew the crux was a big move, easily seen from the ground. Jay pointed out which feet to smear on for this move, then assured me the rest of the route was jugs. 

Breaking left at the start of Zelda. 

I started up with a plan for almost every move. There was one hold after the crux I wasn't sure if I could match, and there was a section just below the anchor that was sunny and chalkless which remained a mystery. Aside from this, I had a plan for every move before starting up. The rock felt pretty bad, especially in the sun, but I was feeling really fresh, and maybe also feeling a bit of pressure to impress my two friends I hadn't seen in months.

I arrived at the big move and eyed up which feet I would smear on as I chalked up and shook. Not waiting too long, I pounced and stuck this crux, feeling a bit of a surge of confidence, but also a bit of frustration that it wasn't exactly a "jug" I had caught, despite what Jay had promised! I caught my breath as I had arrived at the hold I wasn't sure I'd be able to match. Despite it being worse than (again) the "jugs" I'd been promised, it worked well enough to match and I quickly made it to the last bolt. Here I had to pull into a very sunny headwall, but it ended up (finally!) being on the jugs I'd been promised. I was able to feel it out from the comfort of a sinker right hand, and a couple moves later I clipped the anchors! This was my second 13a flash, and I'm proud that I pulled it off in bad conditions and with very little beta.

After some rest, mini bagels, and acceptance that conditions won't be getting better, I tied in to try Tubin' Dudes. The first crux is a HUGE and precise deadpoint, but I was able to avoid this with a very high right drop knee, which allowed me to essentially static this move. Very memorable sequence, and unexpected for a face climb! Next I worked on figuring out the true crux, which involves engaging your core and stabbing good crimps for a few moves (my jam) until getting to a jug. Some pretty cruiser but high quality 5.11 takes you to the anchors. 

Having sorted this all out, I tied in for my first RP attempt, and things went really smooth. I had a plan not to rest at the first bolt (I knew I would be tempred), but to essentially sprint to anchors as soon as I left the ground. I got in a really good rhythm, and thanks to a whole spring of developing this technique, was able to be very conscious about my breathing even during hard sequences. Soon I was through the crux and into the 5.11 - so focused that I realized I had forgotten to make a clip (which could've resulted in me striking a boulder behind me). I reached back low to clip it and continued on to the top, feeling like all the previous day's driving had been worth it.

After this, I decided to try the last route on the wall, a 13c called "Leap of Faith". I'd read that this one was a bit of a softy, with some dynos here and there. I onsighted the first two or three bolts and then arrived at a stopper boulder problem. I tried, fell, then spent 30 minutes or so trying to figure out a sequence. Ultimately, I was losing skin and the easiest sequence I'd found still felt v9/too hard to do from the ground. I pulled through and lowered down, ready to move on.

At this point, we still had plenty of daylight but no super quality routes to do at this crag, so I talked Sadie into questing to Southside. I wanted to try a 13c called "One for the Gipper", which I've fallen at the top of many times before. Once at the Brilliant Pebble, Sadie sampled the awesome arete that is Grey Goose, a nice overhanging line with good holds and a boulder problem down low.

After a quick beta run to refresh my memory of the subleties, I tied in for my 6th pitch of 5.13 for the day. Though not exactly fresh, my body and fingers felt perfectly warm. I floated through the bottom section to the last bolt, which is an incredible bit of 12d or so climbing. I shook out for a few minutes on a weird jug, but I was too many pitches in to still have that kind of recovery ability. I launched into the final v7ish boulder, and right as I caught the last hold on the route, my other hand dry fired and I exploded off the wall. Shit!

After Sadie had another go on Grey Goose, with big progress, I tied back in for a final burn on the gipper. I arrived at the rest up top feeling ok, but again couldn't recover as well as I should have. I launched up to the last hold, but didn't have the oomph to stick, despite my other hand sticking this time. I wasn't terribly bothered, as I'd had a great day. I've probably fallen on this last move ~15 times on point. Frustrating, but definitely something I look forward to revisiting. I love this pebble tremendously. The quality is impeccable and the style matches me perfectly. The line just left of the gipper is an absolute dream, and may one day become a goal. That should be a while...

The next 2 days I revisited One for the Gipper, but each time it was soaking wet. On Monday I bailed to the Coliseum and tried BC for the first time. I'd never really been inspired by this line, but had heard many people rave about the quality of the movement. They aren't wrong! This one flows like a dream. Each attempt I would climb faster and faster. Ultimately it breaks down into a juggy 5.12 into a v7 just at the anchors. It seemed most people grab the crux hold as a gaston for this boulder problem, but I couldn't make that feel as casual as I would've liked. Instead I chose to use the crux hold as a sidepull, allowing me to make the move much more controlled. After this, there are a couple of desperate moves going to the anchor clipping slot.

Day three I found myself warming up at the first buttress of Upper Meadow. I began up one of four 13a routes there, having been assured "they're all jugs". Unfortunately they were all sopping wet jugs, so I was a bit gripped getting to the no hands rest half way up the route. As a left this rest and turned the lip of a small roof, I heard metal jangling below me and realized the draw I had just clipped had slid down to the previous draw, with the bolt hanger still attached! The nut must have been very loosely threaded and fallen right off. I was a bit spooked between the onsighting, the wet holds, and the protection that had come off the wall. I downclimbed to the previous bolt, and lowered. Once again, I bailed to the Coliseum!

I was excited to try BC once more. When we arrived, it was not much better. The rock was noticeably darker due to how wet the wall was. The silver lining was that despite the majority of the route being wet, the crux was dry! Ricky and I both came as close as one could to sending our mini projects, but ultimately it was not in the cards. I fell after the crux on BC, peeling off on the bump into the anchor clipping slot! If I could only have one more day, no doubt Ricky and I would put these rigs down!

Now I am back home and training hard., trying to catch up on sleep and moneymaking. The stoke for Flatanger's "facemelting" (as a friend put it ) grantite is all time. I'll be doing my best to post updates from Norway! 

Tragedy as a Catalyst

Springtime has arrived, and that means several things. First, I've clipped chains on one of my longest and certainly most expensive projects - college. This freedom means I've also had the chance to make some very exciting plans for the next year or so. These plans aren't what this post is about, but in a few words - Yosemite, Norway, Austria, Turkey, Belgium. 

It seems to me the last year or so has taken the lives or abilities of many members of our beloved climbing community. While accidents and deaths occur frequently each year, this past year has particularly impacted me. The people we lost were not statistics nor strangers, they were people I'd held conversations with, climbed with, and befriended. While loss occurs with every passing year, so does connection build with every passing year. This, I believe, is why I've been particularly affected by these losses. The more time I spend in places I love, the more people I learn to love. And yet, the more people you love, the more likely you are to lose one of them. Connection makes us vulnerable.

That isn't to say it isn't worth it. Grief has a beautiful way of showing us how much someone meant to us. But why are we so often incapable of understanding the value of such friendship until we've lost it? Death is inescapable, but we like to think we have a say in, or at least an idea of, the circumstances under which our last breath is taken. As a young climber, and a college student, so many people offer advice revolving around the same mantra: "you've got your whole life ahead of you". Take an extra semester, oh just one more loan, pick up one more shift, try the project one more time, why not go to grad school, make xyz sacrifices now - they'll pay off later. Why do we bother with things which do not or will not make us happy? Is 21 really so young when 22 isn't guaranteed? Am I really so young today if tomorrow isn't promised?

Tragedy is a catalyst for reflection. I'd like to think it encourages or forces those affected to focus on that which matters most - the people and things we love. It seems tragically disillusioned that one's initial instinct would be to post on social media. And yet, this was my first instinct. For me, one of the most frustrating traits of any loss is the honesty and love it elicits in us, powerful enough that we are compelled to share it with the world, despite it being too late for the one which sparked this love to feel it. 

Social media has sat bitterly in my mind since these accidents. The accounts I created to share myself with others now seems to influence my choices, passions, and friendships. Is this acceptable? There are 5 stages of grief and I'm pretty sure instagram isn't one of them. But I posted my "tribute" to Savannah before I cried about her death. Is that not fucked up? 

Is it any more twisted than me venting about social media on a blog? Well, I appreciate having an online journal to formally collect my thoughts, and the public nature of this journal doesn't influence my writing or keep me up in the same way other forms of social media do. Perhaps it's that lack of an audience that engenders authenticity. Ya know "what you say when no one's listening" kind of stuff.

I don't really know what to make of it. Social media is a tremendous tool and in my travels it has connected me with so many people I would otherwise not have met. But how can I know? When I post to instagram, there are probably less than 10 people that truly give a shit, and odds are they were out with me witnessing and partaking in whatever #tryhard I'm spraying about. 

I have no concluding thoughts. And those we lost didn't get a chance to conclude theirs.

I'm grateful you survived your fall, Quinn. Your attitude inspires beyond your achievements (not to belittle these).

I'm continuously inspired by your authenticity, Hayden. I'm grateful to have met you.

I am so sorry for how quickly it was all taken away, Inge. Your passion continues to inspire.

Savannah, you overcame so much and were ready to take on even more. What a gross injustice to see your fire cut short.

Where I'm at with SoCo

In the fall of 2017, I began to put some efforts into Southern Comfort. I was getting out with my good friend Chris, who was raging through some other concave lines with some quickness. The thing to know about Chris and I is that when we climb together, there is one thing that matters more than anything - how hard are you trying?

And so never mind that there were still a few lines in the cave I hadn't sent. With psych buzzing on both ends of the rope, I was beginning my process on this incredible line. By the end of the season in the fall, I had one MAJOR breakthrough: a one-hang on Southern Comfort Right.

Moving through the 3rd boulder problem on a RP attempt.

The route is a bit of an anomaly. It's sits in a large canyon characterized by bouldery routes separated by rests, with the stereotype being cruxy edges or powerful moves on big flat holds. The concave, which is the crag within the canyon that SoCo is situated in, is characterized by steep climbing with bouldery cruxes between rests. Think jugs, heel-toes, and unfortunately, glue. This place is Alabama's outdoor gym.

Southern Comfort, however, is different from anything else in the canyon. As far as I've experienced, it is different from anything else in the region. Besides the opening boulder problem which climbs through some chossy reinforced crimp flakes, the route climbs perfects stone with insanely creative boulder problem cruxes, most of which are climbed in a resistance-style (no rest).

Here is my breakdown of the route:

• v6 to a good kneebar rest
• long v6 to a bad shake
• v4
• powerful v5 exit

None of these are difficult in isolation, but they are very strenuous to link. Interestingly, when I fall on my redpoint attempts, I no longer feel very pumped, but I feel powered down. This is a problem because the last 3 moves are the most powerful moves on the route. 

3rd to last move, a snap of my current highpoint (I fell here)

When I would one-hang it, I would usually do so by going from the ground to the bad shake after the second v6, and then from there to the top. I was convinced the redpoint would boil down to finding a better body position to recover here. After a lot of unsuccessful effort trying to make this stance feel more comfortable, I realized I needed a different solution to make progress.

I knew the second boulder problem was the most taxing on the route. Though not particularly hard, it requires a lot of tension and a lot of weight on the arms. Thus, it's hard to breathe well through these moves and it also saps a lot of power. So I sacrificed a session of working the route as a whole so that I could instead dial in this second boulder. I wanted to know exactly which moves required tension, and which ones I could breathe through. I did the boulder four times in a row, at first focusing on breathing through every move possible. Once I understood which moves I can breathe through, I started to focus on speed - how quickly can I climb through this part to minimize the energy toll.

The second and most taxing boulder problem.

The last thing I worked out in this session was the bad shake following the boulder. While a right heel felt most solid to clip the draw, I decided it was worth adding a move back down to switch the right heel to a toe jam in the hueco, and a left toe pressing on the lowest hueco. From subsequent sessions, I have also learned it is more important for my right arm to be recovered than my left, so I make sure I shake this side last before moving on.

The bad shake after the second boulder.

With all of these subtleties understood, I began pushing for bigger links. I originally thought once I could link from the kneebar rest to the top, I would be close to doing the route. Now I feel as though that is equivalent to doing the route. I have gotten to the same move from the ground as I have off of a hang at the kneebar. Thus, I am in redpoint mode. I climb the opening v6 to the ledge as fast as I can, and I sink into the kneebar rest and relax until I am ready. From here, there are 3 things I tell myself to remember: breathing, speed, and confidence. 

On my second-to-last session, I was fresh from a rest day and was making really good burns from the ground. I made it to the last bolt twice, but each time I was too sapped to clip off of this juggy undercling. On my last session, I was 3 days on and not feeling strong. I began making a big move left to a good slopey hole to clip. With this slight change, I was able to clip the last bolt from the ground twice in  a row, which was HUGELY encouraging because I knew I could come back after a rest day with this change in beta and my odds would be good.

Going one extra move to get in a better clipping stance. I clipped then fell making the big cross to the crimp on the right.

So now I'm resting more than I am training this week, hoping to arrive fresh and confident for battle on the rig this weekend. We'll see!

All photos by John Heidbreder.

The Day I Didn't Fall on The Jackal

It's hard to believe I'm writing this. I knew this day would come, but in the same way you know one day you'll have a mortgage or grandchildren. It is probably due in good time, but I had found an identity in failing on this route. Just as a kid is defined by not being a parent, my identity as a climber was defined by not sending this route. But I loved it. I love it.

I first caught wind of the route 3 or so years ago. I'd adopted a Dixie Cragger's Atlas as the southern gumby's bible, and many of the guidebook's feature photos were by photographer Andrew Kornylak. I'd been climbing less than a year, which meant there was still novel climbing media for me to binge watch, and one day I stumbled upon his Vimeo channel.

https://vimeo.com/79442830

I watched every one, but when I saw Tyler Willcut making the first ascent of The Jackal, I  was mesmerized. Ironically, this obsession had nothing to do with the route. I mean, it was 5.14, and that's an imaginary number that ONLY exists in black diamond videos. No - I was mesmerized by Tyler's message and his roots. I related to him on some level and wanted to relate to him on others. He began climbing in the same area as I did. He spoke of an ethical obligation to maintain our cherished crags. And he had the same goofy curls I was burdened with myself!

Fast forward a year or so, and I had finally pushed through the 5.13 barrier. I was eager to challenge myself, and one particularly cold weekend I decided to go check out Laurel Falls for the first time. Of course, a 45-minute approach was basically alpine. We brought not just gear, but reserved backcountry permits and camped out at the falls. Our first day there, I flashed the two classic 12- routes, which are still 2 of the best I've been on. After some rest, I tied in for my first experience on the Jackal.

I knew there was a v6 sequence right off the ground. I fell 2 moves up. I tried again. Fell again. Due to where the bolt is placed and the steepness of the wall, it is difficult to work the v6 without just doing it. I wasn't super discouraged, because I knew what I was really excited for. And so I pulled past the v6, clipped the second bolt, and got ready to try one of the coolest moves I'd ever pull.

The V6 intro

Tyler said the dyno "is what it all comes down to", so in my mind I was staring at some v10 dyno. With no expectations, I hucked up and came 3 or 4 inches short! Super encouraged, I tried a couple more times, and the first time I decided to lose feet (aka actually dyno), I stuck it! That's when the dream cemented itself. In 4 years of climbing to this day, I still remember that feeling as one of the purest and happiest ever. As far as I knew, I'd just stuck the crux of a 5.14.

Dyno.

I then set my sights on the next boulder problem. Tyler called it v8, but after pulling up to feel the first hold, I swore it couldn't be harder than v6! Never mind that I was nowhere near doing this move, and it was only the first out of 3...I lowered and that was it for the day.

The following day, I set my sights on the v6. I realized I couldn't pull the moves the way Tyler did, and found a new sequence using some subtle heels and a higher right foot. By the skin of my teeth, I managed to fire the v6 from the ground and clip the second bolt, screaming for a celebratory TAKE!

Not only was I stoked to have done the sequence, but it was one of the coolest I'd ever done! Coupled with the dyno above, I didn't really care if the rest of the route was a combination of choss and bird shit, it was THE dream route.

I left it alone for a few months, but eventually returned. I found new beta for the dyno making it much higher percentage (v4/5), and stick clipped through the v8 to have my first taste of the upper section. This alone blew my mind. The best 12b I've ever done, and it's after 2 of the best boulder problems I've ever done. I'd done most of the moves, but linked very little - and the v8 still eluded me completely.

The world class 5.12 crux below the top.

As time passed, I started setting more appropriate goals. I linked the 12b for the first time, and many months later, I had stuck the dyno from the ground for the first time. I still hadn't done the final 3 moves of the v8 though.

I knew the sequence. So I trained for more or less the first time, hangboarding 30 minutes or so 2/3 times a week. I saw tremendous gains in my bouldering, and soon enough I was back with my friend John to try the Jackal. I STUCK THE MOVE on the v8 for the first time (off the hang of course), and was beside myself. It's nearly complete! I could finally get to making proper links! I did the 12b link that day, and also stuck the dyno from the ground! It was really boiling down to this crimp crux.

Sticking this left hand crimp is the crux

I set a simulator of the v8 back at school, and the next time I went out, I nearly stuck the first crux move from the ground. At this point, I'd caused quite a ruckus about this slice of sandstone perfection, and was getting messages from various folks who were getting stoked. I gladly took them out, and was inspired to watch them throw down this gem.

From the first day on the Jackal up to the send, I assumed the role of a "gatekeeper" for the route. Maybe this is selfish, or an illusion, but I felt as though I had the most intimate understanding of every subtlety the route had to offer. I knew more than just beta. I knew every hold, how to grab it, how to shift weight onto various feet, how to do sequences using different beta, how to shortcut the approach, everything. And between the moment I first touched the route to the moment I sent, I was there for every single send the route saw. Three people sent, and I gave every one of them the exact beta they used to do so. What's more, is I was on the other end of the rope for every ascent. Spray and belay - I guess I have a gift.

And suddenly it was my turn. I went through such a rollercoaster as it became feasible. I would cut out junk food from my diet for weeks at a time. I would hangboard religiously. Suddenly I would be back out there and still find myself hauling up the stick clip to get through the crux.

Don't mind stick clipping if it means I get to climb rock this good after it...

But this is the beautiful thing about trying something at or beyond your limit. Once everything is refined to perfection, it still isn't certain. It's largely luck. There is only one route that comes close to the level of total refinement I had with the Jackal, and that is Unshackled (an 8-month 8a project).

So here's the story of the day I sent.

I carpooled up to Dayton with a motivated crew. I played a mental game debating on what time to show up. If we arrived early, the crux would be shaded and temps would be good. But the humidity and moisture rids the rock of friction in the morning. We arrived later than usual, prioritizing drier air over cooler temps.

The rock is remarkably glassy, hence the need for good conditions

I warmed up on the classic Monkey Boy, a classic 12a with more crack climbing than sport climbing. The hanger on the second bolt was missing so I got the added mental warm up of "soloing" the first crux (I screwed the hanger and nut back on as I lowered). The rock was crispy cold, and my fingers were numb. I was so happy.

I walked around the corner to the Jackal and set up my rope. I was over feeling nervous. There were some expectations, but no real pressure. I'd been here so many times before that it was routine. I started up the v6 and didn't feel 100%. My feet sometimes cut on the last move of this boulder, as they did this time. Except today, my left hand (crimp) fired right off, and my right arm was suddenly holding my full weight. This tweaked my shoulder in a bad way, and a month later I'm still feeling this tweak.

I kept climbing though, and stuck the dyno a little less than perfect. As I moved right to the rest beneath the crux, I kept placing my hands on my neck to keep my fingers warm. I soon realized they were getting colder instead of warmer, and charged up. I peeled off on the bump to the left crimp, where I'd fallen dozens of times.

I wasn't discouraged yet. I pulled up, warmed my fingers, and tried again off the hang. I now fell on the last move to the ledge. I fell over and over and over.

Now I was a bit discouraged. I asked for the stick clip, and clipped the bolt above the crux. I tried the crux on TR and decided to try one small tweak - an awkward high right heel. Boom, crux was stuck. I climbed to the top from here, and brushed/ticked everything on my way down to set up Zander for a flash.

Zander styled it, but unfortunately peeled off a couple of times. His psych was high though, and I was getting ready to give my next burn. The crux had come into the sun now, but thankfully it was cold enough that it stayed prime rather than greasy. Everything lined up - cold, dry, psyched.

What happens next is one of my favorite memories, ever. I tied in and began delayering. Just as I wanted, Chris was on the other end of the rope. As I stood on the small boulder beneath the starting holds, I took a breath and took off my last layer - my long sleeve shirt. Chris looked at me and matched my stoke. Off went his jacket...off went his shirt. Never mind the 40-degree temps or the fact that Chris had not climbed yet. And with the almighty double-fist bump, I was off.


The bottom felt typical. Hard enough that I'm holding my breath, but rehearsed enough that it doesn't feel hard. On the last move (where I hurt my shoulder in the last attempt), everything sticks. 4 points on, and that's when I knew I was moving well. I barely rest before the dyno, and as I launch the right hand, I snag the jug absolutely perfect. No adjustments, no sliding, barely a swing - just utterly perfect. I move right, clip, and breathe.

There was nothing particularly different. The perfect execution of the previous two boulders didn't build my confidence. I was back in a very familiar stance, prepping to execute a very hard boulder. I never bother to think of anything more than the next six moves at this point. Just. Six. Moves. And only the last 3 are truly hard.

Setting up for the crux.

I set the familiar right heel. It's not good but I've learned to trust it. I make the blind deadpoint to a good flat edge. I stick, I close it. Muscle memory takes over. Switch right heel to a closer but smaller toe. Back flag left leg, left hand to left shit crimp on the intermediate. Left toe on the jug. Square in to reach sidepull. Suck in, lose the right toe, drop back slightly, then bump desperately to a crimp. I normally grab with my pointer, middle, and thumb, and then reel in the others. This time, I latch it with everything except my pinky. It takes about 3 seconds to get the pinky on, engage the fingers, and fully close. I backflag the right leg now, come into the left side of the intermediate with my right hand. This move is usually difficult, especially because you have to move your hand over and around the quickdraw. This time, it is totally controlled. I pick the right foot up and instantly decide to raise it to try the new high-heel beta. I thrutch to the ledge and snatch it PERFECTLY.

World's coolest V3 after the crux.

Now, we are in auto-pilot. Clip. V3. Rest. I rest way longer than shirtless Chris would have liked, and prepare myself mentally for the 5.12 sequence above. I'd always said "get to here and it's impossible to fall". I moved right, executed everything controlled static, and perfect. I don't think I screamed when I hit the jug. I think it was more of me repeating to myself "oh my god. oh my god. no way. that's a one hang right?"

The jug where you can finally celebrate!

I clipped the anchors, soaked up one hell of a setting, then lowered to embrace the perfect crew of friends.

I said the send go was everything I'd wanted it to be. But upon reflection, it wasn't. I thought this sort of project - a project so beyond me when I started, so hard that the go before the send I still needed a stick clip to get to the top - would mean when I sent, I felt what it meant to be at your absolute limit. But that small tweak in the foot beta, combined with my sticking everything perfectly, made it feel nearly autonomous! An incredible and unique feeling, but not 100% what I was after. I felt nearer my limit when I sent Unshackled, or Roughin' Up the Suspect.

Regardless, send frosties with a side of wifi and points were in order.