Driving to Mt. Charleston.

Another normal Saturday heading up to the Compton Cave...

We planned on making a short tripumentary but our camera batteries died shortly after the seatbelt-bound pelvic thrustifications. 

Back at Santa Barbara, at The Brickyard.

A forest fire tore through this place last year I think.  So all the shrubs were burnt to a cinder.  The entire area was covered in a fine powdery sand mixed with black ash.   Pilar feared the ash powder we stirred up would be carcinogenic.  I'm not sure about that, but it did feel like we were walking around inside a used fireplace.  Incidentally, Skip discovered a melted beer bottle, no doubt the glass buckled under the heat of the blaze.
Above is The Extremist V1 - onsight/warmup.  I tweaked my left tricep on this silliness.  So much for the warmup.  It's tall with slopers at the top.   That's nice - you can't take anything for granted until you top out.  

"See you at the Schoolyard, Meat" V5 - failure.  I couldn't do the first move, which is to slap a font-like sloper from a couple of crimps.  At least that's what seemed like the first move.  I could very well have been using bad beta.  It's been known to happen.  God friggin dammit!  What is it about V5?  I can't send them.  I can do 4, 6, and even a 7 if I get a good night's sleep, 4 shots of espresso, and there's a dozen shucked oysters at the top of the problem.  But V5?  nope.  And the rock looked so beautiful too.  

Yeti V4 - redpoint.  This took 4 tries and 2 falls from the crux mantel on slopers.   Despite my cat-like landings, both my knees and ankles are still in a mild pain.  The top of the problem is sort of scary because there are no gimmes up there.  I think it was around 15 ft tall.  The best thing to do is pull up and turn your right hand into a palm and push for dear life.  No more working an unknown boulder problem without a crashpad.  In sum, this area is quite amazing.  It's like a little piece of Fontainebleau just outside of a posh beach town.  I am grateful to Pilar, Marlene, and Skip for their patience.  While I was busy feeding my climbing addiction, they suffered heat, dust, and swarms of black flies that created a veritable buzzing helmet around one's noggin while trying to enter any available orifice.  Also Thanks to Pilar for the photos above; they are much better than what I take with my point and shoot.  

Hollywood or bust.

Saturday morning we left Santa Barbara to pick up my sister's boyfriend Skip from LAX. On Highway 101 somewhere past Ventura, our left tire exploded.  Awesome.
Afterwards, the spare tire we used went flat immediately. Fortunately we were close to the next exit where we found a Tireman tire shop and were merrily on our way within an hour. Soon thereafter we found ourselves on Hollywood Blvd with Spiderman ready to pounce from his perch atop a garbage can.  Pilar looks to be protecting her camera from the webslinger. Awesomer.
Below we get a shot with Superman and Wonderwoman. Superman was looking a little frail; I think Wonderwoman took all his muscles and stuffed them into her bra.  Awesomerer.
And finally, the best outfit of all.  The guy on the right had a white hat tipped at an improbable angle, a cup of coffee, a 3 foot long purple balloon coming out of his pants, and even a cigarette behind his ear... Awesomest!   I hope he went over and cock whipped that Superman impostor.  

Santa Barbara, CA.

Arriving at Painted Cave roadside boulders in my sister's '91 Chrysler Le Baron convertible replete with Mitsubishi V6.  Tight.  Below is Heavy Traffic V3 on sandstone.   Nice slopey top out.  Not bad for roadside bouldering.  

Sunset from the top of the boulders.  

Mt. Charleston, The Equalizer.

So Shawn and I went on a climbing tear this Labor Day weekend.

Charleston on Saturday: 5.9 warmup before trying The Equalizer 5.13a. It's a mildly overhung route at the left entrance to the Compton Cave. The guidebook notes it as a "great tendon-wrecker of a route." Shawn immediately developed a liking for the route. This liking then mated with his laser-like goal oriented focus (how else could he be one of the chosen few to Teach For America?) to become his obsession, pushing Wailing Soul into the background. So Saturday Shawn worked out most of the moves to the 5th bolt. All of the moves are consistently demanding on small divets for feet with big moves and burly crosses through bi- or mono-pockets. Fortunately, some of those pockets are 2 knuckles deep. I then took a stab at Straight Outta Compton 5.12d but with little gas left after wrecking my tendons on The Equalizer. So SOC smacked me down at the third bolt.

Sunday morning we headed to Cannibal Crag at Red Springs, which I wrote about in my last post.

Yesterday, Monday, we returned to Charleston, Shawn with only one thing on his mind, and it wasn't girls. We warmed up on a 5.11ish slab thing that had zero good hand holds. Then The Equalizer beckoned. It's called The Equalizer because it puts the musclebound boys in their place while girls are able to capitalize on smaller fingers and better technique to send. This time Shawn deciphered the crux move twice, making it look easier than a V0. I could not for the life of me fathom the move. However, after hang-dogging to the 5 bolt, I was able to use Joe Brooks' advice about a blind foot switch while hanging on to a left pinch and right gaston, followed by a big right cross to a sloper. Unfortunately neither of us had the power endurance to link more than a few moves. So it's training time. Also, mental note: if it's less than mid 90s F in Las Vegas, it's pretty cool up at Compton, so bring something warm. A lot of climbers there actually wear down jackets while belaying. Shawn and I just had microfleece things and we were shivering.

Shawn working The Equalizer.

Maneater 5.12a.

The morning started auspiciously when the Starbuck's on Buffalo gave me a complimentary espresso shot to power up my triple to a quadruple. Plus I got a coupon for a "free iced latte after 2pm good at any Starbucks." I wanted to ask, "What the hell is an iced latte?" and add, "Who would want one after 2pm?!" but there was no time for Starbuck Shenanigans. We had to race against time, heat, and golden Apollo himself.

It's only 4 bolts but I'll take it. Shawn magnanimously hung the draws but I'll take it. It's therefore a pinkpoint, but I'll take it... at last, the mystical 5.12 (7a+)! I've been climbing for 7 years, so this is sort of breakthrough. Granted, it could have been a freak occurence... I haven't done any 5.11ds, and Red Rocks is known for its "hero" ratings.

Maneater gently overhangs the entire time and is peppered by incut crimps with exceptional feet, minus the crux move, where for a moment the left hand crimper is not so good (no incut) and the right foot is not as solid as one would like, so it elicited a vocal commitment. Thanks also to Shawn's encouragement, which helped a bunch because I was sort of out of it, especially after the crux move where you can easily take the final moves for granted and blow it if you're overzealous. I used my old Tenaya laceups from Spain (masai I think), which are uncannily precise if you pay attention to their placement.

In any event, I think this is the last sport climbing video I post because they are amazingly boring using a digital camera placed on a rock 50-100 ft away. It was an experiment in anti-climbing porn. No hip hop soundtrack, no closeups, no zooming or panning or crabbing or adobe after-effects on a mac. No nothin'. I was thinking Godard or Warhol, or a chinese painting where the human subject is subsumed by surrounding nature; but instead it's merely dull. Porn wins.

Robbers' Roost.

Yesterday John and I visited Robbers' Roost at Mt. Charleston. It was John's first time there. We had the entire crag to ourselves. Almost. A relatively constant stream of day trippers with their children caused no little amusement. One fat kid wearing a t-shirt the size of a bed sheet offered to climb into a small cave for $5. His mother said, "I'll give you $30 if you do it!" implying he couldn't because he was too fat. Then there was the 8 year old with a 50 year old he addressed as "Steven". He kept saying "Steven" this and "Steven" that and we thought he was yelling to his little brother or something; nope. He had no little companion- he was addressing his father/uncle/friend? But then John thought, "Why not? Why can't 50 year old men be friends with 8 year old boys?" I agreed, but a puritanical and by logical extension a perverted and paranoid society would disapprove. This was followed by the father who lit up a joint once his kids were busy scrambling on rocks. All in all, a pretty fine day. Below is a photo of some route that I guess was around 5.10. I can't seem to match the routes here to any topo or guidebook. It's one of my weakest climbing skills. The book could describe the route hold by hold, and I still wouldn't be able to identify it.
Below John demonstrates his magical no-hands belay technique. On the drive up, John ate 4 fried chicken wings purchased from Albertson's supermarket for $3.49 and tossed the bones out the window at various picturesque intervals on Route 157, to no small delight. This is completely irrelevant to anything; but I felt that the event merited recording.
Below, King John the Mohawk King holds court at Osaka Japanese restaurant. He won a $25 wager with Pilar that the caucasian american waitress spoke Japanese, by the way she corrected my abysmal pronunciation of nigiri sushi pieces. Turns out the waitress lived in Japan for a year.

Birthday at Bouchon.

Pilar's birthday found us at Bouchon, Thomas Keller's french restaurant in The Venetian casino and hotel. The food, atmosphere, and service approximated perfection. Instead of wine, we accompanied our meal with 3 Vesper martinis (Boodles gin, vodka, Lillet Blanc, twist). I say "approximated perfection" because the third martini had ice crystals in it. Perhaps to be expected since James Bond did say it should be "shaken, not stirred." To start, we were served the best baked bread I've had outside of Europe, with salted butter. Why can't Americans get good bread? why is good bread here a rare delicacy when the French can just walk into any bakery and get wheaty kneaded heavenly goodness?
Then followed the appetizers: we received a complimentary plate of carpaccio with bread and goat cheese, rabbit with diced plum, and olives. Our main course was roast leg of lamb and beef short ribs.
Presentation was king, and each dish was softly understated, with masterfully hidden surprises. For example, the lamb was on a bed of finely diced and sauteed sweet peppers and arugula, and underneath that, unseen at first was a small bed of toasted bread a centimeter thin that soaked in the au jus and all the other savory delectability.
They even provided a birthday platter with a single candle mounted on the plate with its own wax.
Afterwards, we sampled the uber gaudy mockery of Venice, strangely interesting in its own grotesque way, the way things are in Las Vegas. A frighteningly impressive fake sky that messes with your sense of the time of day is combined with singing gondoliers. Seeing these unrivalled feats of bad taste always reminds me of a psychological map of the American culture- A blissfully and willfully ignorant disneyfied fantasy of stereotypes. This is where American adults go to be mesmerized like children doped up on anti-depressants.
On the way out, a gigantic moth, which i'll refer to as Mothra, was trapped in the hallway that led to the parking garage. For some reason, Mothra landed on Pilar's skirt, and once there, decided it didn't want to flutter about anymore while banging its head against the swinging glass doors. I think Mothra sensed that Pilar was not like the others (others being the visiting tourists gawking and freaking out and thinking Mothra was a bat.) Mothra clung to Pilar's skirt down the hallway, and even into the elevator. I guess it wanted to get the hell out of there as well!

Mary Jane.

Today Pilar and I visited Mary Jane crag in Mt. Charleston for the second time. I was determined to send Mary Jane 5.11b, even if that meant skipping two bolts at the top because I didn't bring up enough draws. The book said 5 bolts, but there were 7. I only had 5 draws, but didn't want to start over again. Besides, I could save energy by not having to stop and clip two extra times. In the middle of the video below, Pilar and I argue about what to do when I realize I'm short two draws. She wanted me to come down, but I was confident in my plan.



Slab 5.8 - redpoint
Pine in the Ass 5.10b - onsight
Mary Jane 5.11b - redpoint
Insane in the Membrane 5.11a - redpoint

Pilar, impressed by the latest batman flick, saw a cloud shaped like batman's emblem.

Afterwards, we went to Shuck's Tavern to inhale some oysters.

Escape from New York (back to Vegas.)

Otherwise known as out of the frying pan and into the fire. Here's a view of the Grand Canyon from Continental flight 668.
Below Dan and Jodi generously act as our guides to our first First Friday at Las Vegas. 1st Friday is where on the first Friday of each month, there is a gathering of artists to ply their trade and sell their wares. Visual arts abounded, but there was also spoken word, and even some breakdancin'.
We wandered into an antique shop (read: junk) that had some interesting artifacts nonetheless. Take the following chastity-like medieval torture / S&M structure that Pilar found:
I think it's basically an iron sculpture that isn't meant to be functional. Below Pilar faces off against a mounted gazelle.
Below is a video of some breakdancing. I'm not sure which was more impressive, the breakdancing, or the fact that they were doing it in 100F weather.

Tell No One.

Sunday night Aylon and I watched "Tell No One", a "french thriller", with a french Dustin Hoffman lookalike. It will not leave an indelible mark on your psyche, but it will entertain you. If my friend Aylon didn't fall asleep, it must have been quite stimulating. Good: characters, editing. Bad: exploited U2's With or Without You, a song that A said had too many connections for too many people. Unfortunately, they couldn't sustain the suspense/mystery for long and instead opted to explain it all half way through the movie which seriously deflated the tension they had built up. It would have been much better to reveal in a slow tease rather than a monotone bang. Perhaps I'm just prejudiced and wanted something more spooky along the lines of David Lynch. None the less, it was superior to hollywood in every respect. Solid acting combined with touches of humor that always managed to fall shy of poignancy. Like a fried egg with salt- simple and effective. Alright, that was a fragile analogy, but tough titties.
Here's a video of Tulip, Jane and Aylon's dog in NYC. She's chewing on a nylon bone. Normal bones won't do because her pitbull-like jaws break them and allow her to swallow them without proper chewing. Then she vomits. Hence the nylon bone. I think the nylon bone may be bullet proof. Don't mess with the nylon bone.


Men Kui Tei
I almost didn't fulfill my tradition of visiting this midtown classic. But I convinced my colleague Alex to join me, and as usual, it was scrumptiously yummylicious. We started with two Sapporo, then dove headfirst into gyoza, nera reba (chicken liver and leeks), tonkotsu ramen (rich pork bone broth), and curry ramen. Alex was initially skeptical of the nira reba but ended up vacuuming the entire plate.
Following Men Kui Tei, Alex and I visited Paladar in the East Village, a latin bar that boasted the best mojitos in nyc or some similarly ridiculous and commonplace claim. We had mojitos and caiperinhas until Aylon and his new found bass player Peter showed up. The mojitos were weak, but tasty. A lot of mint and real sugar cane. Peter was one cool cat. He carried a gigantic upright bass with him, and he only had one pin on the huge canvas bag. It was a pin with a picture of Jim Anchower ! I alone appreciated this.

Alex insisted I snap a photo of the mountain of limes on the bar, so here it is.

Village Idiot - V7.

Video is me sending Village Idiot V7. Thanks to Masa for the spot and Yusuke for the video! I worked on this problem on and off over a couple of years. It consists of a precise deadpoint to a 1 pad crimp, followed by two more crimps over the mini-roof, and finally a deadpoint to a large crimp (2 pads) which is really a jug at that point. The first crux is pulling over the mini-roof while locking off the left hand. The trick there is to place the right toe on one of the beginning handholds (a flat ledge), flag with the left foot, and reach over with your right hand. This keeps your weight off of your poor left hand fingertips. (You just need a little bit of core and a decent spot for the mental comfort, although the landing is excellent, especially for peterskill, as it's a large wide and flat slab. The only better landing available at Peterskill is the woodchips at the Quarantine boulders.) After that, you match on the crescent and then it's just endurance because the final deadpoint arrives at a really positive hold.
I had been able to do the match before, but usually burned out on those two crimps at the crescent and couldn't position my feet properly for the final deadpoint. I guess the small amount of training I've done recently paid off; I've switched away from bouldering and towards more endurance for sport climbing (200 move traverses), and I've been using a Metolius "Simulator" hangboard once a week, trying some John Bachar style exercises I read about in his book. However, I agree with most people at rockclimbing.com that hangboards are dangerous and not for beginners.

Our A-Team du jour consisted of Masa, Yusuke, their new friend Masaki, and me. Masaki is a 22 year old med student from Japan who's observing operations at Columbia University. He's also 120 pounds of Beast! After messing around on the Hop V7 (he was able to stick the first dyno, but didn't finish it... i don't know why), he blasted through Village Idiot V7 (flash), Tiger Style V7 (5 tries?), some V3 mantle, Kill Whitey V10 (2nd try!), and finished with a decent attempt on Jefe V10. Picture below is Masaki sending Kill Whitey:
He's only been climbing for 2 years. It was his first time at Peterskill. He's about my height, but 20 lbs less than me, with huge springing power. He really enjoyed bouldering at Peterskill because he found the style to consist of big gymnastic moves between crimps and/or otherwise decent holds. He said Japanese bouldering tended toward very technical moves on thin features, where a static style rules the day. I think he enjoyed flying around like Jackie Chan. The video below is Masaki sending Tiger Style.

We also tried Sicker than Average V8. Russell the Muscle was going to show us some kneebar beta that would turn it into a V6, but it was late and we wanted to hit Bacchus for beer. Below is me starting Sicker than Average. Wasn't able to get past the bicycle move to the gigantic pinch.
Russell the Muscle shows Masaki how to turn the peace sign into a gangsta gesture along with matching facial thuggery:
After some Bacchus burgers, I challenged Yusuke to some straight pool. We tied 3-3. He was better, but I was luckier. And as we know, luck beats skill.