Putterman.

Brent and I took a quick trip to Moab over the weekend.  Really quick, I just needed to go on a vacation over Spring Break, so Brent was good enough to indulge me in 12 hours of driving for 2 days of climbing.  We made it to Tusher Canyon, outside Moab, shortly before midnight (which was a record for us, we tend to arrive closer to 2:00 am), but still couldn't find a camp spot.  We saw a sign that said "No Camping Beyond This Point", so we camped at that point, which happened to be a short cut on the Merrimac and Monitor Jeep road.

A few weeks ago, we watched "Deliverance" and I haven't been able to get it out of my head.  Now every time I find myself some where rather lonely, usually outside of cell service, I worry that deranged hill billies will come out of the woods and assault us (even when there are no woods), but Burt Reynolds won't come save us with his bow and arrow.  This was going through my head at our make shift camp area when I heard some sounds that Brent said were gun shots (I couldn't tell if he was joking or not, but it made sense), then a couple guys rode right next to our tent and hollered like hill billies. I did not sleep well that night.

There should be no camping beyond this point .  

The next morning we went in search of our crag.  After several miles of a jeep track (that Phyllis the Forester handled like a champ), we found our crag of choice being climbed.  The back up choice was a tower called House of Putterman.  A quick Google did not reveal who Putterman was, so I've decided it was a penguin (based on how the tower is shaped).  A brave, stoic (and ancient), who lead an army into battle and was later memorialized in sandstone.
 

Such a noble tower.  

  We spent the hike up to our route (Walden's Room) talking about how I couldn't lead anything on this route. Then we started racking up and Brent insisted that I lead the first pitch, despite a rating that suggested it was out of my reach.  It looked like a most excellent pitch, and Brent was very convincing.  So I led it.

Such a beautiful pitch.  

The next three pitches were good, but I think I got to lead the best.  The second pitch was interesting, as chimneys go.  Someone had actually climbed up there with a cow femur bone and used it as a chock.  While this was quite inventive, I still like to think that maybe a cow hiked to the top of House of Putterman to die a more noble death than one grazing in the Courthouse Pasture.

Brent is good at climbing chimneys.  

Bone chock happened.  

View from the top.  

Top of Pitch 3.  

Brent at the top.  

The top of the tower sure was windy.  There was also an awesome canister with a register at the top, complete with schedule for a strip club in Vegas, mandalas, and a little Buddha.  After making our entry, we rappelled down and continued climbing.

Obviously excited about the register contents. 

Every time.

Next up was a couple of routes on Neighbor of Putterman.  I didn't intend to lead much else, but Brent had a fool-proof argument.  He said "Becka, you're always looking for low-grade climbs to practice on, you should lead here."  It's so true.  I'm still a beginner at leading trad routes, and they seem to also start at a rating of 5.10, but I'm really only good at climbing up to a 5.8.  There were a few 5.9 routes on Neighbor of Putterman, which seemed put them at the edge of my ability, but I lead them.  The first went alright, I struggled up most of the 50 feet, yowling because my ankle hurt.  But I also used my brain (and beta from Mountain Project) to figure out the easiest way up to the top.  And even though I didn't bring a cam big enough to protect the top section, I finished it.  I also bled a bit on the route, enough for Brent to see my blood when he climbed the route.  I spent the entire time belaying Brent thinking "That must be what it feels like to climb something above your ability."  Then, with the same argument as before, Brent suggested I climb the next route over.  I hemmed and hawed, then roped up and cried most of the way up the climbing.  Literally.  I don't know if it was the adrenaline from the previous climbs, or the three hours of sleep I had gotten the night before, but I was absolutely irrational and I could feel it.  Brent did everything right though, he laughed a little, asked my why I was crying, and coaxed me up the rest of the climb.  There are no pictures of these routes, because they are not worth documenting in film, but it did help my climbing confidence.

I climbed this route, shortly before the route where I used my tears to propel me up the wall.  

That night we spent an excellent evening camping in a wash.  The next morning the wind started blowing and it took the two of us 10 minutes just to fold up the tent.  But we did wake up to a nice view.

  Due to the intense wind (and previously blogged about hatred of wind), we fled to Arches National Park to do some small tower climbing.  There are actually two towers next to each other in the park called the Phallus and the Right and Left Testes.  The first actually looks like the a phallus, the other does have two summits, but is mostly an amorphous tower.  We chose to climb the Right Nut, and it looked like this.

Sandstone genitals. 

Climbing what proved to be an interesting route.  

I love that skeptical look.  

Another Buddha.  

The wind was still pretty terrible up there.  But we had payed to get into the park, so climbed another route to make it worth while.  Chinese Eyes on the Great Wall was probably the windiest climb I've ever been on. I think Brent probably looked amazing on it, but I spent most of the time shielding my eyes from the insane amount of sand blowing around.

I took pictures of this route, but due to the massive amounts of sand blowing around, we both looked very sad.  

Then we went to dinner and headed home.  And made it home before midnight, another first.  Unfortunately, true to tradition, we came home to significantly colder temperatures in Logan.  Fortunately, that made for an awesome powder day today!.

Chromosomally Enhanced

I've been beaming today.  It's my way of celebrating World Down Syndrome Day.  I've been thinking extra about my nephew, Tyler,who has Down Syndrome, and this just makes me beam.  It also makes me a little misty eyed.  From the moment Tyler came into this world, six years ago, he made it a brighter place.  Tyler has an extra copy of his 21st chromosome, along with the standard Down's symptoms, this extra bit of genetic material has given him an extra, heaping dose of awesome.  Perhaps also an extra dose of empathy, Tyler always knows when I need a hug.  I feel blessed to have such a wonderful nephew.  I also feel very optimistic about Tyler's future.  Attitudes about developmental delays have changed so much in the last few decades, even the way we talk about delays has changed.  There are a number of organizations that seek to give Down's kids and others with development differences a chance to live a normal life.  And Tyler has a great family, parents and siblings, that celebrate his different-ness.

 Oh, I'm just so happy to have a Tyler.  Here's a few pictures to illustrate why it's so great to know Tyler.

Just look at that smile.  It's so great.  

Adorable.  

Wonderful curiosity, and sister.  

That sister sure loves him (thanks to Liz for sending pictures, they make my day).  

Tyler is always great to celebrate the holidays with.  

A little too mischievous to go shopping with (thanks again, Liz).  

So much fun to visit new places with, like the zoo.  

Such fun to play with.  

He's really got a great mom, who loves him so much.  

Every time he visits me, that smiles warms up all of Logan.

  

He's got sweet dance moves.  And looks great in a suit.  

Did I mention he's fun to visit the zoo with?

I'll finish this very sappy post with a mention that I love my niece and 2nd nephew just as much.  Really, being an aunt is the best thing ever.  I'm sure glad I've got a sister like Liz, who's let her kids enrich my life like they have.  

Becka's No-Good, Very Bad Day.

Friday was one of those days, and it had become completely horrible by 9:00 am.  Really, it had been one of those weeks.  I needed a vacation and had become absolutely irrational.  My life really wasn't all that terrible, I just had no perspective on anything, so little things, like walking to school when I had planned on taking the bus, completely destroyed me.  I suppose temperamental is the right word for it.  Friday morning I made it on time to the bus stop, which was awesome, then the driver told me I couldn't have my coffee on the bus.  I tried to stand up for myself, briefly.  I asked if he was serious (seriously, who would try to make me dump my coffee out?), then I asked if this was a new rule (it was the first I had heard of it, after months of faithful riding).  Then I walked off the bus and hate-walked up the hill to school, through a construction zone hiding mud that went up to the middle of my shin.  That mud did this to my shoes:

Hind sight is a funny thing.  I can look back and see that I was terribly upset about a small thing.  But that mud still doesn't look more than a foot deep.  Instead, the construction zone appears in my mind as a trap.  Not only had they taken out the cement for the sidewalk, but they had blocked off the road, making that seem like a poor choice, too.  And those laughing construction workers certainly didn't help.  I imagine they had seen at least two other people do the same thing as me, wade into the mud (which only became deep halfway between the end of the side walk and the beginning of the next section), curse, and stomp on up the hill.  And that seems funny now, five days later.

Those shoes are really good trail runners, so my feet stayed dry.  And there were muck boots in the lab on campus so I didn't need to track mud around campus.  But then my boss came into our lab today before I had completely composed myself, so I cried in front of her and couldn't really compose myself in time for class.  Then my lab-mates asked me what had happened to my shows, and I began crying again telling them about what had happened.  Somehow, I thought as an adult I wouldn't miss class because my face looked like I'd been crying (though I also never counted on going to class this far into my adulthood).  Eh.  As an adult, I am more able to recognize when I need to take a break.  When I spend half my day crying over muddy shoes, I need a break.  Luckily, Spring Break started that weekend, so I got to spend two days not working on my project, today I'm going to see my family, and this weekend I'll finally get back to Moab!

It seems Spring Break is one of those holidays that gets lost to adulthood.  This year, the combination of weather, illness, and grown-up jobs has lead to the cancellation of Spring Break for my group of friends.  This feels like the end of an era, so I'm nostalgic about the beginning - March 2010, which I've decided to blog about.  I'm also nostalgic for my solitary Spring Breaks, in part because one of my friends is currently on her first solitary Spring Break (awesome!), and partly because I miss feeling that confident.  So I'll blog about that today too.

The Beginning of Everything - Spring Break 2010

Spring Break 2010 almost didn't happen for me.  I was in the thick of thesis writing and didn't feel like I could really take any time off.  With much coaxing, Karina convinced me I should join her and some other friends for rock climbing in St. George.  Without me she would be spending the entire week with a couple, which could be nauseating (unless that couple was Brent and I, of course, but we hadn't met yet).  So I came down one night in the middle of the week, really late, like 3:00 am.  Things felt tense, even more so when we rose the next morning to go climb the Green Valley Gap.  That was the day I learned how to lead climb, and in hind sight it made the whole trip worthwhile, because it made me feel like I was good at something, which was a really rare feeling while I was writing my thesis.  It happened like this:

 Rob demonstrated the climb, and left quick-draws up for me.  Then the three other climbers there gave me lots of advice (climb with your feet, don't fall before your first bolt, remember to breathe).

Then I went up.  Lead climbing is mentally more challenging than climbing with a top rope, because falls have consequences.  However, it is not as mentally challenging (or mind numbing) as writing a thesis.  Maybe it's because there is an end to every climb, but a thesis can continue to haunt you for the rest of your life.  Maybe it's because climbing is fun and no one writes a thesis for kicks and giggles.  

Karina was good enough to take pictures of every step of it.  Which was great, because I was really pleased with myself.  Taking climbing breaks while writing my thesis was probably what led to my successful defense.  Without something to take my mind off my research, something that allowed me to feel successful, I'd have probably died before I finished writing.  Probably.  

Green Valley Gap was a pretty great place to learn how to lead.  It's varnished sandstone, which I am particularly fond of, and there are lots of routes in a small area, so once I got the hang of it there was plenty left to conquer.  I love varnished sandstone more than nearly anything else in the world.  

Then I celebrated my success.  There was much rejoycing and talk of world domination.  And Karina, who had no intention of leading, did it too.

What a rock star.  I've praised Karina's climbing technique before, and I meant every word of it.  She's very calm and deliberate.  She doesn't even make silly faces while she climbs.  

I think this picture captures just how happy I was to be there.  It also captures one of the last times I thought rappelling was fun, it has since because a rather stressful endeavor (though it's still better than hiking down).  

Life was beautiful.  After a bit of a meltdown that couldn't be fixed with ice cream, our other friends left that day, leaving Karina and I unexpectedly on our own.  Turns out,  there was another group of people Karina had met at the Rock Haus who were in St. George, and we decided to meet up with at the Utah Hills climbing area.  Those people were Emma and Brent, and climbing with them was awesome.   

The limestone climbing in the Utah Hills was actually really cold and painful, but that made us deliriously giddy. Rain has worn the rock into really sharp pockets and points, which make the rock "sticky."  That's a euphemism for vicious and stabbing.  One way to deal with the pain is to laugh hysterically every time you fall.  Crying is also an option, but it's difficult to climb and wipe the tears from your eyes.  Plus it was quite cold, and nothing is worse than freezing tears.  

Here is Karina, Emma, and Brent scoping out a climb (they chose the most difficult way up).  We originally thought Brent and Emma were brother and sister, then we figured they must be cousins.  They're just friends, but I still like to think about them as cousins.

Before this trip, I had known that Karina was pretty great, but it was during this trip that I learned she was wonderful!  If any of you have met her, you know she's got an infectious laugh, which became even more important as we climbed until we were cold and tired (thus laughing more than we should).  

After enough cold and giggling, we decided to climb some place warmer.  I think the fire that had come through earlier really made the whole area look even more cold and unforgiving.  

I was very new to climbing and had never belayed anyone while they lead climbed, but this didn't seem to bother Brent, he trusted me to belay him here at Chuckwalla (which I learned today is also the name a lizard, a lizard that can suck in air and expand it's body to fit into crevices .  He even let me know every time he was clipping the rope because I was so nervous.  I think this may have been a foreshadowing of our entire relationship: I worry about things more than I should, Brent tells me it will all be OK, and he ends up being right.  I sure love him.

A storm rolled in just as we were packing up to go.  But we were able to get this shot in.  It's us being "hard core".  While this vacation was delightful, it was just the beginning.  The four of us have been climbing together ever since and it's been wonderful.  I can't imagine I'd enjoy rock climbing as much as I do without having gone through all the experiences I have with these folk.  Plus I've been dating Brent for two of the last three years, which is pretty wonderful, too.

Ah.  What good friends I have.

My Very First Adventure - Spring Break 2008 - The Successful Part

The other day while I was trying to work up the courage to actually do work, I tried a little writing.  I heard one day about a technique to fix writer's block that involves starting with "I remember" and writing from there.  Here's what I wrote about my trip to Zion National Park in 2008, my very first vacation all by myself. 

I remember the fear, exhilaration  and relaxation I felt when I went on my first solitary vacation. I was afraid of the unknown, no one I knew went on vacation by themselves.  Would I have an accident hiking alone?  Would I be safe camping without company?  Would I be able to do anything without friends to motivate me and make things happen?  Ultimately the desire to make things happen in my life, the overwhelming fear of a boring existance, and the curiosity about southern Utah won, and I left.  It was exhilarating   I was doing something none of my friends and family had done.  I was changing my life for the better.  And, OHMYGOD! Zion National Park was gorgeous!  I hiked to Angel's Landing by myself and marveled (literally) at how beautiful sandstone is, how peaceful the Virgin River was at that time, how magnificent the view was, how long it had taken the landscape to erode, the power of water, the beauty of the safety chains....

I think that's enough of a description of the successful part of my trip.  

Here I am with Gus before I left my parent's house.  He's full of stuff, including a bike and kayak.  I am full of many feelings, listed above.  

Five hours later, I was in the park, practicing taking pictures of myself with a timer and tripod.  I still always do the tree pose if there is any tree around.  

I sure did lock my keys in the car 300 miles from home.  But the beauty of Gus (the most wonderful truck ever) is in the broken rear window, which could be easily pried open.  

Hiking Angel's Landing is something everyone should do once.  It was so scary, there was slush in the shadowy parts and no one to catch me if I slipped.  But the view at the top is so worthwhile.  

Really, it's a great view.  Have I mentioned how much I love sandstone?

More of the views.  

Remember that thing I said about the beauty of the safety chain.  I meant it.  

Yes.  It's true.  I love sandstone.  And I discovered this love here.  

I also love desert plants.  They're the bad-ass-est of the bad-ass plants. Capable of growing and reproducing with minimal water.  And they're pointy.  Cool!

Also discovered my love of taking my own picture.  An arabesque in front the Virgin River.  Because I can.  

I also hiked around the Watchman area.  I don't know if it was the significant number of cliffs in the area, or the fact that I was by myself, but I felt like a spy.  

Because I can.  

And because I love sandstone.  

Lots of cliffs.  Cliffs you can peer over and enjoy.  Oh.  How I love the desert.  

I spent 1.5 days hiking around Zion, then left to Glen Canyon National Recreation Area.  I sure felt like spending my entire vacation at Zion, but this was early in my adventuring career and I didn't know it was better to make itineraries more theoretical than realistic.  The following post is a story about disaster.