Warm days on Yellowjacket Creek

Saturday, May 15th 2010

Yellowjacket Creek 1660 cfs.

Class IV-V

8 miles?

After many weeks of waiting, Yellowjacket creek came into an ideal level to run for the first time, only one issue; all of the regulars "had other plans". So Friday night I was making the frantic phone calls to everyone in the phone chain, and before I got a chance to call Jared, he called me. What a relief! Jared and his friend Jerry, who is from Seattle were going to meet me in Morton and were excited to run a cool section of whitewater.

We were going to run a uncommonly run section of Yellowjacket creek by putting on upstream of the typical put-in. The upper section includes more class III and IV rapids, and a class V waterfall, adding an additional 3+ miles to an already quality section of whitewater.

We park our car at the bridge that crosses Yellowjacket on FR 28 rd and loaded up to head to the goods. Once ready we drove 7+ miles before we reached an obvious triple fork in the road and decided that we had likely found the alternate put-in. We were able to park just seconds from the river, which is much better than the traditional put-in which utilizes a class V hike down a steep hill over loose gravel that takes the better part of an hour, but all we had to do was jaunt down to the river.

The put-in had a monster old growth tree laying in the river and the remnants of a bridge that had washed out years ago. I took a long time stretching because I had spent the better part of Friday weed-wacking and was more sore than I cared to be. And thankfully I did. The description I had read stated that there was only class III rapids above the waterfall, but the rapid directly below the put-in was definitely a class IV. The put-in rapid was a boulder garden with a line that zig-zagged down the middle.

Below the put-in drop was read-and-run class III shoals and ledges, and woody rapids. From the put-in to the traditional put-in there was a fair amount of annoying wood. None of it was very dangerous, and much of it we could paddle through or around, but there was also a bit that needed to be portaged at river level. All easy portages, but were obscuring the exit of several class III drops with no eddy mid rapid to catch so we would be forced to portage the whole drop.

After a bit of this we came to our next big rapid, which had some wood in it. But this rapid was also above a significant horizon line, with a narrow line in it. If this rapid didn't have wood in it it would still be a serious rapid because it was in very close proximity to an unrunnable drop. We portaged around the entrance drop and the log-choked-falls. The falls required downclimbing to a small eddy, and lowering the boats down the cliff. The rapid below was cool because there was wood spiderwebbing overhead that we paddled under before making a move to the right to boof a ledge at the bottom, really fun.

Entrance rapid to unrunnable Log Choked falls

Spider webbing logs in run-out

Pondering the improbable Photo by Jerry Palushock

After this we encountered a class IV+ maybe V rapid that had a ugly looking entrance drop that had a slide into confused water that eventually pushed you far left against the wall before you had to paddle hard to the right through a boulder garden to the bottom of the drop. When I looked at the drop it made me uneasy, but when I saw Jared run clean I figured it must be good to go. I ran second followed by Jerry, all of us had clean lines.

After a few more wood dodges we came to the waterfall that we all came down here for, which for now I will call Upper Yellowjacket falls. Initially Jared scouted from the left because that was the side we eddied out on and it ended up being a nuisance. Jared tried giving me verbal beta, but it wasn't matching up with a picture of the falls I had seen, so I walked back to my boat and paddled across the river to scout from the river right side. This ended up working out for the best for us because I was able to take some shots of Jerry and Jared running the falls, and then Jerry was able to take some shots of me from below. Which I was excited about because I rarely have any pictures of me. Jared ran first and had a clean line and so did Jerry.

Jared in entrance rapid to falls

This drop wasn't even the hardest rapid we had ran yet today, but it was definitely the most consequential, and the tallest I have likely ever run, from pool to pool I would guess 20 feet. The entrance rapid was pretty significant, and the current coming out of the entrance rapid was all pushing to the right side of the drop which is a 15 foot fall onto bedrock. I gave them the signal that I was going to run, and then it started. My heart began to pound, and I got butterflies in my throat, and I needed to take deep breaths every so often. It's weird running big drops, I always feel like a spring in a watch that someone keeps winding and winding, and then you get in your boat and put your skirt is on, and everything changes. I splash some water in my face and make the decision that the time is now and the heart stops pounding, my breath becomes normal and you start paddling. Make the first move into the eddy, start paddling out the back of the eddy with a right angle, one, two, three strokes, boof stroke, and BOOF, landing flat in the water, and that spring that was formerly wound so tight just broke and now you yell. It always amazes me how the body reacts to stress like that, the anticipation is the worst, and then when it's time to face the challenge something in the reptilian brain kicks in and there is only focus, no thought, just reaction to your paddling instincts.

The fun big waterfall. Photo by JerryPalushock

BOOF!

Flyin'

All of us were ecstatic, I spent a few minutes paddling around below the falls just checking it out, so fun, and in reality not the hardest thing I've done, funny how the brain plays tricks on you.

Below the falls was our next portage, this time due to a 30 foot waterfall that landed on a bedrock shelf that protruded from the left shore. Again we scouted even though we knew we were not running it, it just feels cool to stand on the edge of something that big. We opted not to jump into the pool, but if I run this again, I definitely would jump rather than walk around the drop. The portage wasn't difficult, just hot and steep, I must have sweat an ounce of water during the whole thing. We decided that we would carry our boats to a bluff then I would climb down and the others would lower them to me. Easier said than done. The boats would get stuck half way down, and then with some slack out would come loose and come rocketing out of the woods like some sort of plastic missile, heading straight for me before catching the end of the rope and slamming against the wall. Each boat had it's own particular way that it came flying out of the woods, only announced by the breaking of branches on it's way down.

By the time everyone got back to river level I had scouted the next drop and was ready to go, all the sweat was cooling me down and I didn't want to get cold. So I paddled around in the pool while Jared and Jerry cooled off from their hike, and then I ran the slide while Jerry took photos. It was a fun slide very fast and straightforward. I caught the eddy and took pictures of the other two coming through and gave directions for the next part of the rapid.

Standing on the edge

Below the big one

Fun slide below big unrunnable drop. Photo Jerry Palushock

Now that we were below this rapid we had started on what is the traditional put-in. The first rapid was covered in wood and Jerry and I portaged down the right, and Jared portaged down river center on the log, he had to get a bit creative but he made it work. The rest of the river was class III and IV read-and-run. Really fun drops, and nothing scary. Lots of continuous boulder gardens and ledges and other fun features. We were able to make good time on this part because all of the wood had gotten hung up in the first drop. We meandered through several vertical walled gorges, and took in the scenery in the afternoon light. Eventually the river opened up as it came close to the confluence with the Cispus river.

By the time we reached the take out I was exhausted and reminded to bring a snack on the river with me. This section of whitewater was the super fun and I would definitely run it again. This was also the first day I had paddled in sunny warm weather on the west side of the cascades, a nice change from the regular season. All in all it was a super fun day, it took be all of Sunday to recover, but it was still super fun.

Bushwacking on the Duckabush

Saturday May 8th 2010.

Taryn and I spent this Saturday hiking to, along, above, and in the Duckabush river. The Duck is located about an hour north of Olympia, and flows from the Olympic National Park into Hood canal. The river itself is relatively small in volume and had a blue/green tint to it.

Ranger Hole Trail

The weather was beautiful, it was the first real nice weekend of the spring, and because of this everyone was out and about. The fishermen had their boats buzzing up and down the canal, divers were donning their gear in pullouts along the road, and every family with 2.67 kids was dotting highway 101 from Skokomish to Hoodsport. It was the first day that I felt compelled to take off my sweatshirt, I even broke a significant sweat.

We left Oly around 9:30 am and made it to the trailhead around 10:30-11:00. I was concerned that the trail would be crowded because it is short in length and easily accessible. But to my relief most people only went as far as Hoodsport, easily distracted by the roadside attractions.

My main motivation for going to the Duck was because there is a gorge that is described in the guide book, but the only information is that it exists and that access to it is difficult because it is waaaaay down in a steep gorge. So I was compelled to take a weekend away from boating and scamper around in the woods and see what sort of river ran through the heart of the gorge.

Taryn and I hiked down the easy and short trail to where it meets the river. The trail ends on a bluff that looks over a ledge called "ranger hole" (because of the ranger cabin at the trailhead), and a pool that was the best color of blue/green. Here we sat on the bluff in the sun for a bit and enjoyed the sound of the river. Soon the sun began to overheat me so I began scrambling over the shore and other bluffs so I could get a good look at the rapid above "ranger hole".

Pool below "ranger hole"

The upper rapid was a fun looking class IV rapid that lead into "ranger hole", a boulder garden with two ledges that ran down the river left side, with a bit more water they looked like they would be fun. After seeing this I got excited and wanted to see what was further up stream, so Taryn and I bushwacked around and over a bluff that could not be climbed at river level. Above the fun rapid was a disappointment, flat water stretched for about 150 yards before a bend in the river obscured my view.

Rapid above "ranger hole"

So we took a few minutes to soak our feet in the freeezing water before 'shwacking back to our bags at the trail. Once back at the trail we started back up in search of several small trails that led to the river. The use of the term trail is misleading, because they were more like animal paths, but enough to notice and follow until they branched off in multiple directions. The first trail led us up onto a flat ridge and then down a steep hillside to the canyon rim.

We came down on top of a canyon wall that was 60 to 80 feet above the river. It was too sketchy to look over the edge but I could see up-stream well and a boulder garden that was fairly long and continuous, about 100 yards long before it went out of sight. What I was able to see looked quality and it motivated me to find more spots to access the river.

View through the trees from high on canyon rim

We hiked back to the trail and Taryn noticed a second trail just slightly further up the trail from where we exited the woods. This second one was littered with remnants from the logging that had gone on in these parts years ago. But this trail was a jack-pot. We were able to get right down to river level above where I had lost sight of the river from the bluff. By now rain had come and we weren't ready for it, so I was trying to be efficient with my time. I scrambled down a loose bank and was able to climb onto some boulders on river left and look up and downstream.

River level looking downstream. The second ledge had a serious hole.

river level looking upstream

The water level was a little low, but a lot more water would make this gorge a class V stretch. Everything I saw looked runnable at this level and class IV, with eddies and ledges, anything that couldn't be scouted from shore looked like would be boat scoutable. I tried to get upstream further but was blocked by another bluff, and the rain was on its way down so we headed back to the car. There was one bluff I climbed up on on the way out and was able to see what I believed to be the entrance to the gorge. According to beta on the American Whitewater page there is a boulder that blocks this entrance and make it an unrunnable drop. There was defiantly a significant loss of elevation in this spot but I was not able to visually confirm the boulder blocking the river. A bluff stuck out into my line of sight so all I could see was the shore and what I think is the lead-in to the canyon.

What I believe is the entrance to the canyon and where the boulder obstruction is

I'd like to go back in and scout the lead-in and the spot downstream of where I initially was able to see the gorge. The canyon is short but it looks quality. If I paddled it I'd run it at lower flows to determine what the drops were like. the guage said on this day that the river was at 1.65 ft. and recommended flows for the rapids above and below the gorge is 2.00 ft. That much water in the gorge would be big so it's hard to say what it would look like.

There is also a trail that I believe is the "portage trail", it is the most obvious of all the trails and has a sign that says "no hunting no trespassing" and a log and sticks placed there to block the path. This is likely the best way to see the boulder obstruction.

We ran out of time and weren't able to go down this last trail but instead went back to the car and ate our sandwiches. On the drive home we stopped at a park and Taryns car battery died and I asked a nice trio of three who were barbecuing in the sun and increasing wind. They were nice and helped us no problems. Were didn't want to ask the young mom in the car next to us who was yelling at her kids, and talking about her "baby daddy" (her words not mine) loudly with her friend.

The mission got me excited about going back and taking a look at what is down in all the places I wasn't able to see. But that will have to wait until next time.

Map

A Weekend in a Bavarian Wonderland: Whitewater on Icicle Creek

After the usual Friday afternoon phone chain, Jon and I had decided to go to Leavenworth for the weekend. Icicle creek was coming in for the spring snow melt and it was time to capitalize on what little snowpack we have.

I woke on Saturday morning to a car already packed and gassed, all that was required was gentle pressure on the gas pedal. About halfway there the plans changed and instead of just the two of us it would be a party of four. Jon, Jon's girlfriend Katie, and their Dog. We packed the Japanese station wagon as efficiently as possible, squeezed in, and made made way for the promised land of Leavenworth.

JS: "Where is the next town on the map"?

JH: "like 25-30 miles, why"?

JS: "The gas light turned on awhile ago".

JH: "Well, I watched a news special once where I learned that American cars get 30-40 miles after the light turns on, so we should be good"

Jon didn't look convinced, but I was confident. I had also seen it on Mythbusters and when I told him this he agreed that they were a reliable source and we hoped that we would all make it to the next town of Blewette. Which is in the middle of the Wentachee National Forest, and doesn't have a gas station unbeknownst to us. Luckily Blewette is at the top of the pass and we got good gas mileage down into the Wenatchee valley, "just drop it in neutral and let it run" I suggested. As we passed through the next town of Cashmere we were disappointed to find that the gas station that we had see in the distance was a former gas station. It had the pumps, no gas. One thing it did have was no shortage of mid nineties motorcycles for sale, a gentleman was looking at a tiny honda for his 10 year old son. We were definitely in the country.

At this point I was having feelings of deep foreboding, we had pushed our luck getting to the summit of the pass, and now I was developing images of us breaking down a quarter mile from the gas station and having to roll that small blue Honda down the breakdown lane to refill.

40 miles, 2 "towns", and 1 mountain pass later; we were at a gas station in Leavenworth. We had a good laugh over making it all the way to Leavenworth with the gas light on, mostly because the silly chucklehead from the city forgets to gas up before we left civilization. I bought some sushi from the Safeway for lunch, and then we drove on up Icicle creek valley in search of whitewater. We paddled the Lower section of Icicle creek, a class IV+ stretch of river located southwest of Leavenworth. At the put-in were we greeted by a gaggle of tourists posing for pictures in the parking lot, with the mountains in the background and asking us "are you gonna do that?"

We put on and immediately drop into a large class IV rapid that I will call "Bridge Rapid" for the most obvious of reasons. From there we picked our way down boulder gardens until we reached A steep ledge that we attempted to scout from the middle of the river with little luck in viewing what lay at the base of the ledge. So we tried sneaking around it and ended up becoming separated by an island. After a moment or two of scouting from shore for each other we made visual contact again and met up at the bottom of the rapid.

The gradient quickly leveled out after this and we floated down to the take out. Well, what we thought was the take-out, we accidently took out early at a retreat center and were eventually pointed in the right direction by a nice lady. Once at the real take out we became lost again, ending up on the wrong side of a fence and having to do some scrambling to get down to where we were going to meet Katie. Due to miscommunication Katie didn't know where to meet us and we ended up spending 2 hours waiting for her. It wasn't so bad, the air was warm the grass was soft, and our gear dried within the first hour. This day was turning into one mishap after the other.

Waiting for a ride

Once we were picked up we drove to the campground that we had planned to stay at and found that it was packed with climbers. We managed to bag the very last campsite. For the rest of the night we referred to the loop our site was adjacent to as the "loop of shame" because potential campers drove around in vain for a camp spot. For dinner we wrapped sweet potatoes, onions, asparagus, and bratwurst in foil and cooked those over the fire pit. A nice end to the day. We sat around the fire and drank beer and were eventually joined by Dan, Dave, and Adrian. It's so dry over on that side of the cascades that we didn't even need to pitch a tent, Dan, Adrian and I all crashed out in the open, a beautiful night.

I woke early the next morning (6:00 am), and was unable to fall back to sleep, so I managed to read until about 8:00 when everyone else roused for breakfast. I cooked bacon and eggs and then at 10 we rallied for a warm up on Lower Icicle. There was a scary swim by one individual on the trip, he swam in front of a undercut rock/sieve/logjam but was able to stop himself from flowing into it, and three of us were able to get into a position that if something bad did happen it would have been handled.

Take out for upper icicle, very steep.

After spending a considerable amount of time at the take out we drove up to the upper section of Icicle Creek to run the classic class IV-V boulder gardens. The run is a true classic, like riding your bike in the Pyrenees, from the first rapid to the last it doesn't let up. The run would have taken forever if I wasn't able to follow people down, otherwise scouting would have been necessary every 100 yards or so. The whole run went clean other than a little trouble in a rapid called "roadside attraction" where I spent some time surfing in a hole, but I worked it out and ran the rest of the drops clean.

At the horseshoe rock Jon, Adrian, and I took out where we met Katie and the rest of the gang floated down more whitewater to their cars. The three of us exchanged high fives and drank a beer after we changed into dry clothes. We sat at the base of "log limbo" and took in the scenery and talked about the day. The weather was beautiful and I knew spring was in full effect because my nose was full of snot due to allergies. I also managed to keep Katie's dog from jumping into the river and swimming a class V rapid. Not a bad day.

Take out and log limbo in the distance

On the way home we stopped in the Bavarian themed town of Leavenworth. The town has a town zoning ordinance that requires all buildings within the downtown area to have a Bavarian theme. It's the hokiest thing you've ever seen. Everyone thinks it adorable, but if you were from Germany you'd laugh at the sillyness of it. We stopped at the Bavarian themed Cold Stone ice cream parlor. Katie, Jon, and I gorged ourselves on decadent ice cream treats for the drive home. Upon finishing my mountain of ice cream I sunk into a food coma that wouldn't subside until I arrived back in Olympia.

All-in-all the weekend was a success. Fun times with fun people on fun rivers.

Spring break Twenty Ten continued…

This is a long one so if your strapped for time, wait for another day.

For the second half of my spring break Taryn and I were coaxed down to Smith Rocks in Oregon by Lotte and Jeremy (friends of mine who used to live in Olympia who moved down to Portland). Thursday morning Taryn and I hit the road around 7:00 am and started driving south on I-5, the weather was cool and clear with hope for clear skies. I drove and Taryn slept, which is typical of any car experience with her, heck she can barely make it through a movie with out falling asleep let alone a 4-5 hour drive. Luckily I have experience with sort of thing.

We took I-5 south to I-26, which took us through the Portland suburb of Gresham, OR. A gross town filled with check cashing offices, strip malls, Native owned casinos, and dilapidated residential homes sandwiched between fast food joints. We stopped at Albertsons for beer, wine, and ice, where the local homeless exchange there recyclables for change. After filling the cooler and emptying our bladders, we moved forth towards the pass at Mt. Hood, through Government Camp and the pitiful little ski resorts. The poor snow year has clearly taken it’s toll on these lower elevation slopes, as we approached 4000 feet there was barely a dusting of snow along the road. The lifts climbed to the summits of their respective peaks with no skiers, like a conveyer belt in a factory that hasn’t produced anything.

Once over the pass we quickly descended down to the flat lands that surround the area south of the mountain. If you blink too long you would have missed the transition from evergreen forest to sagebrush desert. There is a distinct dividing line between the two landscapes, almost like driving in a big museum; passing from the forest habitat exhibit to the desert habitat exhibit.

Once in the desert the road straightens and rolls out like the red carpet in front of you, punctuated by small towns and reservation lands, and one intermission of a short canyon created by the Deschutes river. The road is flanked by cow pastures that are filled with fat meat cows, doesn’t look like this is a moo cow sort of town.

I continually try to rouse my sleeping girlfriend who has managed to sleep through the most beautiful parts of the drive. It’s not that I want her to wake up so she’ll entertain me, but it seems like a poor time to have our eyes closed. But she’ll be happier well rested, so I shouldn’t pester too much.

After passing through some funky towns that appear to exist only because of an industry that has long left due to outsourcing or depletion of resources, we arrive in Terrebonne. Terrebonne is a small town adjacent to Smith Rocks State Park, we buy some tomatoes and ranch dressing to moisten our tuna sandwiches that we make on the tailgate of the truck in the windy parking lot of the local Thriftway. Taryn comes out of the store to report on the local grandmother who is buying her grandkids Redbull and Monster energy drinks. It’s like a nightmare; 5 screaming kids with Redbull coursing through their veins, no wonder diabetes is on the rise.

"This road doesn't exist"

After some wrong turns we find the poorly marked state park, one would expect the climbing Mecca of Oregon to have a sign bigger that a postage stamp advertising it.

The park is a geologic anomaly in the middle of all the flatness, rising up out of the ground is the monolithic glory of Smith Rocks. Smith towers over the landscape at 3,360 feet, and is covered in climbing routes and walking paths for all the tourists to circumnavigate the cliff, and for the climbers to access the routes.

I park the car, and text Lotte to find out where they are; still in Portland. Apparently Jeremy has been enjoying his birthday morning quite a bit. So Taryn and I don wind breakers and take a walk down to the base of the cliffs, clambering and exploring the area. Taryn wants to explore every cave she sees, she tries to shimmy through a narrow slot and gets a fair amount of sand and grit down the back of her pants. As she excavates her underpants I watch out for onlookers.

At about 4:00 pm we decide to find the Skull Hollow campground where we are to meet Lotte and Jeremy. On the map the road that we are currently driving on doesn’t exist, but that’s ok because we found our way there anyway. After setting up the tent we lay down for a minute to relax and then I hear a car coming, my spidey senses tell me that it’s Lotte and Jeremy. Lotte (short for Charlotte by the way) didn’t tell Jeremy that we were going to be there because she wanted to surprise him for his birthday, and as I climb out of the tent I see Lotte collecting firewood from an empty campsite. I start walking toward the car, Lotte is holding some wood and improvising a story through the window of the car about “some guy who is pissed because this is their wood”, I approach the driver side window and look into the eyes of a bewildered Jeremy who was preparing himself for a confrontation with a stranger over firewood.

At first he had a look of concern that turned into glee as he realized that the angry individual was actually just me. He opens the door and we give each other a big hug and have a laugh about the yarn that Lotte had been spinning for the last 20 minutes in order to get him to drive to the camp ground instead of smith rocks.

By now it’s almost 6:00 pm and we start in on dinner and tapping the pony keg that Jeremy and Lotte brought. I have a feeling that this is going to be a party trip with some climbing. We joke and eat as we sit around the crackling fire pit, which is a savior on this windy and chilly evening. By 10:00 we are nicely buzzed, full, and tired so we hit the sack.

We climb into our tent which couldn’t be pointing in a worse direction, with the door facing directly into the wind which makes the tent into a wing that wants to take off into the night with Taryn and I curled up in the bottom. “We’re not in Kansas anymore” taryn jokes as we lie in the enormous family camper tent from L.L. Bean fit for the partridges‘.

In the night I awake to 20-25 MPH winds that shake and threaten to destroy our extremely aerodynamically disadvantaged tent. I climb out into the wind in my undies and begin to tighten all the anchor lines against the wind. Note to self: invest in a smaller tent.

The morning comes and I wake up to a windless morning that is filled with Jeremy’s rendition of “Winter Wonderland”. “You have got to be kidding me” Taryn (who hates snow) proclaims as she unzips the tent flap in order to determine what Jeremy could be talking about.

"This is crap"

We climb out of the tent into a land that is covered in a dusting of snow, that will eventually add up to more than an inch of snow. I get started on breakfast, bacon, eggs and toast, the bacon is more fat than bacon, and by the time it’s all cooked there is about an inch of bacon fat in the bottom of the skillet. Note to self: don’t buy bacon from Grocery Outlet, there is a reason it is being sold in the Big Lots of food.

As we drink our coffee and eat our bacon fat we try and determine a Plan B to climbing. Lotte and Jeremy have it figured out already; drive to Bend and go in the saltwater hot tubs. Couldn’t think of a better way to work out the chills of the night and morning. We climb into Jeremy’s car and drive south to the hip city of Bend. After about an hour of soaking we decide we’re hungry again, we find a noodle place and fill our bellies. By the time lunch is through it’s 1:00 pm and the sun is out, all the snow is gone, and the wind is back. So we drive back to Skull Hollow, grab our gear and go to the crag.

Not a bad end to the day

We make our way to a wall that will hopefully have routes that will feed all of our varying appetites. Jeremy and Lotte are the designated lead climbers, because I lack the confidence to get on the sharp end of the rope, and because they likes it. He gets a rope up a 5.9 that Taryn gives a go at but gets stuck in the crux because of her short stature. He then sets up a 5.10b climb, I belay him first and then am talked into climbing it. I’m a bit skeptical of my ability to finish the route because I haven’t been climbing much, and it’s not an easy first climb. But the route is my kind of climb, a slab route where it’s possible to stay on your feet. I try and take a rest but Lotte starts belittleing me in an attempt to get me to climb it sans rest. She was successful. I managed to climb it in one go, which was good for my confidence. “Thanks Lotte, I needed that” I tell her once back on the ground.

By now Whitey is has arrived from a day of skiing at Mt. Bachelor south of here. I urge him to climb a route so he can have a “multi sport” day. Skiing in the morning and climbing in the evening, not a bad use of your time.

Smith Rocks ridgeline

As the sun begins to go down and the crag gets cool we pack it up and start to head for camp. With the whole gang now present and some additions we make no hesitations to start making a dent in the pony keg. Some how a joke about certain things being “very European” gets started and runs through the end of the weekend. Everything is “very European”, capris, French presses, drinking PBR out of a cup, eating food with chopsticks, the fancy cooler. We sit around the fire and as Whitey put it, begin to “get faded”, a term that I am going to adopt for the future. It seems appropriate.

Whitey

In the morning we woke to another clear and windy morning, another bacon fat breakfast, and another very European joke. Because it was Saturday we wanted to get an early start to the climbing day. We got a good parking spot, geared up and hiked down the trail to the base of our first climb. We went to the Red Wall where there was a 5.9 crack that Jeremy set up a top rope on. Everyone had a go on it, Taryn was stopped at the crux again, the crack didn’t agree with her. I climbed the crack last and cleaned the gear and rappelled off, as I lowered the rope it kept getting hung up in the crack and gave me heaps of trouble. After I belayed Jeremy on a really poor climb, it started out easy, pockets and good holds that turned into a blank face with a bit of a lead out to the anchors. “That guy was right this route sucks”, we had been warned that it was a crappy route. After finally getting back to the ground we decided to move to the other side of Smith so we could stay in the sun. So we packed up started switchbacking our way up the trail to the pass and then down over the side. We picked our way down a steep scramble to the base of the Mesa Verde wall where we were able to climb by ourselves for the majority of the afternoon.

Jeremy

We leisurely spent the day belaying Jeremy up routes and climbing them once a top rope had been established. I sat and drank a sessions beer with my lunch, took pictures and observed a vicious dog fight. Well, I didn’t actually get to see it but I listened to the whole thing, apparently when they started fighting they became tangled in each others leashes and were tumbling down the steep slope latched on to each others necks, snarling and barking. Meanwhile Jeremy was in the middle of the crux of a tough 5.10c peering down from the wall and asking “what the hell is going on down there”? The owner was belaying and started freaking out a bit and had to lower her climber off the wall to attend to her baby.

Taryn finished her first route of the trip, a stout 5.9, after a couple of rests in the crux, and with some encouragement from Lotte she finished the route. She was able to find her groove and was pretty stoked about it.

Taryn killin' it

By now it was about four in the afternoon and this crag was getting crowded so we moved on to the spiderman wall, to climb a 5.8 crack that leads out to a face climb. It was a fun route, again Jeremy “rope gun” Epstein lead the pitch, I seconded, and Whitey cleaned the gear. As I climbed I got myself in a funny position and was straddling the corner of the rock, everyone started laughing, and as I looked down from my perch I saw the group making thrusting motions with their hips. I over exaggerated the motion and had a good laugh and then moved northward. As I got to the crux I started to feel it a bit, and asked for a “take”, again Lotte being the team captain told me to stop wining and finish the climb. I finished it with only one fall. Thanks Lotte.

getting awkward

After Whitey came down from the climb we packed up and started making our way to asterisk pass to make a shortcut back to the car. The climb was only fourth class scrambling but it was a bit exposed, and with a pack and a rope on it felt a bit sketchy. Nothing harder than some of the climbs I grew up with in front of the Eden rd. house, but it still managed to wear on my nerves, probably a little dehydration and hunger had something to do with that.

Once done with Asterisk pass, we hiked down to the path and to the car. Back at the car I dropped my bag and laid in the grass until I cooled down enough to put a jacket on. Back at camp we resumed our routine of “party trip with some climbing”. This night we were joined by a group of folks that Jeremy and Lotte know from Portland. We ate drank and got sufficiently “faded”, told more “very European” Jokes, threw a rotisserie chicken carcass in the fire, nearly melted our shoes on our nuclear fire, and talked about climbing.

In the morning we woke to a grey, windy morning that seemed to threaten to rain, snow or a combination of the two. So I manned the weather radio and got word of a winter weather warning, so we all agreed that getting an early start would be best for all of us for fear that the pass at Mt. Hood could be troublesome. Jeremy’s car battery had died the night before while we were jamming out to some music so I broke out the new jumper cables and hooked up the battery to my car. Two things happened when I did this; the check engine light turned on, and my fan was spinning slowly. Both initially gave me worry, but I discovered that they were of minimal concern, the check engine light was a $150.00 fix, and the fan is on a heat engaging clutch, I had never had my hood open when the car was cold so this was new to me. Both of these things motivated me to order myself a copy of the maintenance manual so I can be more knowledgeable of how to fix my own car.

The drive over the pass was uneventful, there was only rain and wind as I drove over the high divide with Taryn soundly sleeping in the passenger seat. The drive back to Olympia was much like the trip over Mt. Hood, rainy and grey. Not much was said during the trip just quiet contemplation as I listened to the radio and watched Portland come and go, and then the I-5 corridor guide us north back home. As I listened to a radio show called Savage Love - a love and sex advice show - I was moved to tears while listening to the story of a man recently diagnosed with Lou Gehrigs disease, who wanted advice on not dying single and alone. For some reason it has stuck with me all week, I think that prospect of being faced with your imminent death alone is terrifying.

But I digress. The trip was great, Taryn really enjoyed herself, and we had a lot of fun in a new place. It was just what she needed, a break from her reality, and it was a multi-sport vacation for me. It was also a great opportunity to see a different part of the Northwest, and old friends. It’s trips like this that reinforce to me that going to school out here was a good idea, and that I really do enjoy climbing even if it scares the crap out of me. The forecast for this weekend looks wet, so it will be back in the boat for me.

pretty ladies