The Comma:
The morning after Michael Phelps won his 19th medal and became "The most decorated Olympian of all-time" I was watching ESPN's Mike and Mike in the Morning on TV. Mike Greenberg commented that what you are in life, or what you are remembered for is often defined by what comes after the comma when you are introduced. For example, "Erik Weihenmayer, first blind man to climb the Mt Everest". "Michael Phelps, most decorated Olympian of all-time." "Neil Armstrong, first man to walk on the moon."
I think that we spend so much time focusing on giving our lives reason and purpose based on our achievements, accomplishments, etc. But let's examine ourselves for a moment. What is your most notable accomplishment that people think of you as? What do you think of yourself as? Do you still let that high school football state championship define you? Or, do you moan about how good of a rock climber or cyclist you were or could have been when you were 10-11 years old. We can't get caught up in our past accomplishments or lack there of. We need to learn to look on the past with fondness, or whatever emotion you want to, learn from it and move on.
At the same time we can't simply live for the future. My girlfriend's Father, Randy, Kailee and I were sitting on the couch after dinner one night just talking about finances, investments, savings and the like since Kailee and I had a few questions. We all agreed that it's good to save money. It's good to put it away and invest in your future. At one point Kailee’s Dad was heavily into stocks and investment portfolios (he still enjoys studying them every now and again). When he was in his late 20s he mentioned to one family member that if he kept up at this same rate he’d be very happy financially by retirement. His family member passed along some good advice, “remember don't forget to live along the way". And so Kailee’s Dad advised Kailee and me of the same thing. Just don’t let the future consume us.
Too often, I think, do we get caught up in the past or the future. But then on the other hand there are those who get caught up in the present and dedicate themselves solely to one task without caring about yesterday or tomorrow but only for today. None of these is an ideal way of living. Ideally, we need to find that balance in our lives. I hear my Dad talk about balance a lot. Balancing finances, obligations, emotions, everything. We're always seeking that sense of balance in our lives. And as I constantly remind my spinners in each one of my spin classes "we're all at different levels". Your balance is different than my balance. I may be off balance while that same situation might keep you in balance.
In short, learn from the past, look forward to the future and live in the present. Don't let what's after that "comma" define who you are, or how people think of you for life. What do you want to be known for? Do you want to be known as a great athlete, a billionaire, a great parent, sibling, friend, spouse? Find that balance. It'll take some time and some mess ups but eventually we all will reach it one way or another.
Climb High,
Kyle Coon
Friday, August 3, 2012
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Peaks And Valleys
Peaks and Valleys:
I haven't paid the closest of attention to the olympics this year, however, I have kept up with them. So one morning I mentioned to my girlfriend how I was surprised that Ryan Lochte wasn't performing as well as people had hoped. Kailee (my girlfriend) was a competitive swimmer through middle and high school and had often analyzed swimmers technique during the olympic trials and had discussed them with me. As a Spinning Instructor, Group Exercise Instructor, and Certified Personal Trainer I like to learn all I can about health, fitness, training etc. So I enjoyed getting Kailee's and her Dad's perspective on swimming and sports that they'd participated in which I hadn't. But I digress. Kailee mentioned that she felt maybe Lochte was just in too many events and trying to push himself too hard. I thought about this and it made sense to me. I'd heard this sentiment echoed on sports radio and in some articles that I'd perused. That night I went over to Kailee's house and we discussed the olympics a little further. I wondered aloud if, possibly, Lochte's technique was possibly hampering him, since his technique and style of swimming was slightly different than the classic swimmer's. However, Kailee's Dad pointed out that Lochte's been swimming for so long and training so much that his technique is probably as close to automatic as they come. This made sense to me. But then an idea hit me.
Chris Carmichael of Carmichael Training Systems, had recently sent out an email talking about peaking at the right time in the season for your respective sport. Since Carmichael is primarily a cycling coach he used Mark Cavendish, the talented British Sprinter who was, at that time, competing in the Tour de France, and would be one of the favorites for a gold medal in the London Olympics. Carmichael said that he had wondered about why Cavendish didn't seem as strong as he usually appears in the Tour de France. Cavendish had won Stage 2 but didn't win another stage of the Tour until almost the end. But then Carmichael pointed out how this cycling season was so peculiar compared to others because of the olympics. Cyclists tend to tailor their racing and training schedules around a series of peaks in performance so that hopefully they reach higher and higher peaks so that their best performance is in the biggest event of the year. Whether that event is one of the Cycling Grand Tours, World Championships, or Olympics. Carmichael then reasoned that since Cavendish was such a heavy favorite to win Gold in London (home soil for him) he had probably tailored his training schedule so that he would ideally peak and have his best performance during the Olympic Road Race. Sprinters tend to have a much shorter peak period that other cyclists due to the intense high energy effort of an all out sprint at the end of a long 150 mile road race. This made sense to Carmichael and also to me.
So I remembered that newsletter and made the suggestion to Kailee and her Dad that maybe Ryan Lochte had peaked too early. He'd peaked at the Olympic Trials when he showed such dominance and became that heavy favorite to be the next Michael Phelps. Now, at a crucial time Lochte wasn't performing up to expectations. France's dramatic split second victory in the 400 meter Freestyle Relay made people pause and wonder what's wrong with Lochte. Then Lochte placed fourth (not even medaling) in the 200 meter Freestyle (an individual event) which he'd been heavily favored to win. Whether Lochte snaps out of this funk or doesn't we'll only know in each successive event. The possibility of peaking too early is always a danger to any athlete. But let's take this concept of peaking and look at it in different ways apart from the 2012 Olympics.
For me personally I know all too well about peaking at the right time. When I was in high school I always seemed to peak too early in the wrestling season until my senior year when it looked as though I might be able to peak at the right time. I had a heavy January wrestling schedule and tore up my opponents, winning big matches in dominating fashion. Finally, in late January I fell ill and tried to wrestle through it. I lost a match I probably should have won and then in the very next match I sprained my ankle so bad that I had to go to physical therapy and I missed the Conference Tournament the next week (a tournament I would have been heavily favored to win). This set me back and I wound up taking fourth at Districts, and falling off the edge at Regionals failing in my goal of going to States. I was disappointed. I hadn't peaked at the right time. I tried to tailor my training so that I would peak at the right time in my freshman year of college wrestling season. But again, I seemed to peak just a little early and missed out on going to Nationals by just one match. When we climbed Gannet Peak in 2010, I struggled at the beginning hitting my absolute low point on the day we made our summit attempt. After I waited with my teammate Justin at a certain point on the trail for our other four teammates, I began to feel better. The next two days on our hike out I felt much stronger than at the beginning. I was still exhausted, but feeling stronger than I had on the first day. If I'd had a second shot at the summit, who knows I might have made it. If I'd done better at managing where I peaked I also probably could have pushed it out to the summit. Who knows...
If we look around in our lives, our entire year, careers, etc are based around peaks. I always here my Dad talk about market peaks and valleys. I hear him talk about how the summer months are the peak of grilling season and that is typically when he's busiest. This is why my family used to always take a winter vacation rather than a summer vacation. I even looked at my school grades recently and saw a pattern. My Fall Semester grades tended to be slightly lower and my grades tended to rise throughout the school year with my highest grades being in March and April right at the end of the Spring Semester. In high school my best grades also tended to be in the second half of the year.
The more experienced we become in our discipline, whether that's a sport, school or business, we become better and more efficient about managing our peaks and valleys. We can't just peak early in life or just late in life. We're going to have both peaks and valleys every year, every day of our lives. We need to learn to manage our lives, to manage our peaks and valleys. We need to try and strive for each peak to be higher than the last and for valley to be slightly higher than that last valley. Now, of course we're going to have those times where the valley dips a little deeper than planned or expected, but that just means we need to work a little harder to climb out of it. I haven't quite learned how to manage all of my peaks and valleys, but I'm getting better. I try to help those people I train in my Spin classes to push themselves a little higher up that ladder, trying to help them break through those mental barriers. Kailee and I both become stressed at times and at those times we stay strong for each other and help each other out of that valley and begin working up towards our next peak. Sometimes we just need to remember to take a deep breath, relax and just take it one day, project, event, competition, at a time. We will peak and we will valley. We need to strive to make those valleys higher than the previous valley, in addition to making those peaks as high as we possibly can.
Until next time.
Climb High!
Kyle Coon
I haven't paid the closest of attention to the olympics this year, however, I have kept up with them. So one morning I mentioned to my girlfriend how I was surprised that Ryan Lochte wasn't performing as well as people had hoped. Kailee (my girlfriend) was a competitive swimmer through middle and high school and had often analyzed swimmers technique during the olympic trials and had discussed them with me. As a Spinning Instructor, Group Exercise Instructor, and Certified Personal Trainer I like to learn all I can about health, fitness, training etc. So I enjoyed getting Kailee's and her Dad's perspective on swimming and sports that they'd participated in which I hadn't. But I digress. Kailee mentioned that she felt maybe Lochte was just in too many events and trying to push himself too hard. I thought about this and it made sense to me. I'd heard this sentiment echoed on sports radio and in some articles that I'd perused. That night I went over to Kailee's house and we discussed the olympics a little further. I wondered aloud if, possibly, Lochte's technique was possibly hampering him, since his technique and style of swimming was slightly different than the classic swimmer's. However, Kailee's Dad pointed out that Lochte's been swimming for so long and training so much that his technique is probably as close to automatic as they come. This made sense to me. But then an idea hit me.
Chris Carmichael of Carmichael Training Systems, had recently sent out an email talking about peaking at the right time in the season for your respective sport. Since Carmichael is primarily a cycling coach he used Mark Cavendish, the talented British Sprinter who was, at that time, competing in the Tour de France, and would be one of the favorites for a gold medal in the London Olympics. Carmichael said that he had wondered about why Cavendish didn't seem as strong as he usually appears in the Tour de France. Cavendish had won Stage 2 but didn't win another stage of the Tour until almost the end. But then Carmichael pointed out how this cycling season was so peculiar compared to others because of the olympics. Cyclists tend to tailor their racing and training schedules around a series of peaks in performance so that hopefully they reach higher and higher peaks so that their best performance is in the biggest event of the year. Whether that event is one of the Cycling Grand Tours, World Championships, or Olympics. Carmichael then reasoned that since Cavendish was such a heavy favorite to win Gold in London (home soil for him) he had probably tailored his training schedule so that he would ideally peak and have his best performance during the Olympic Road Race. Sprinters tend to have a much shorter peak period that other cyclists due to the intense high energy effort of an all out sprint at the end of a long 150 mile road race. This made sense to Carmichael and also to me.
So I remembered that newsletter and made the suggestion to Kailee and her Dad that maybe Ryan Lochte had peaked too early. He'd peaked at the Olympic Trials when he showed such dominance and became that heavy favorite to be the next Michael Phelps. Now, at a crucial time Lochte wasn't performing up to expectations. France's dramatic split second victory in the 400 meter Freestyle Relay made people pause and wonder what's wrong with Lochte. Then Lochte placed fourth (not even medaling) in the 200 meter Freestyle (an individual event) which he'd been heavily favored to win. Whether Lochte snaps out of this funk or doesn't we'll only know in each successive event. The possibility of peaking too early is always a danger to any athlete. But let's take this concept of peaking and look at it in different ways apart from the 2012 Olympics.
For me personally I know all too well about peaking at the right time. When I was in high school I always seemed to peak too early in the wrestling season until my senior year when it looked as though I might be able to peak at the right time. I had a heavy January wrestling schedule and tore up my opponents, winning big matches in dominating fashion. Finally, in late January I fell ill and tried to wrestle through it. I lost a match I probably should have won and then in the very next match I sprained my ankle so bad that I had to go to physical therapy and I missed the Conference Tournament the next week (a tournament I would have been heavily favored to win). This set me back and I wound up taking fourth at Districts, and falling off the edge at Regionals failing in my goal of going to States. I was disappointed. I hadn't peaked at the right time. I tried to tailor my training so that I would peak at the right time in my freshman year of college wrestling season. But again, I seemed to peak just a little early and missed out on going to Nationals by just one match. When we climbed Gannet Peak in 2010, I struggled at the beginning hitting my absolute low point on the day we made our summit attempt. After I waited with my teammate Justin at a certain point on the trail for our other four teammates, I began to feel better. The next two days on our hike out I felt much stronger than at the beginning. I was still exhausted, but feeling stronger than I had on the first day. If I'd had a second shot at the summit, who knows I might have made it. If I'd done better at managing where I peaked I also probably could have pushed it out to the summit. Who knows...
If we look around in our lives, our entire year, careers, etc are based around peaks. I always here my Dad talk about market peaks and valleys. I hear him talk about how the summer months are the peak of grilling season and that is typically when he's busiest. This is why my family used to always take a winter vacation rather than a summer vacation. I even looked at my school grades recently and saw a pattern. My Fall Semester grades tended to be slightly lower and my grades tended to rise throughout the school year with my highest grades being in March and April right at the end of the Spring Semester. In high school my best grades also tended to be in the second half of the year.
The more experienced we become in our discipline, whether that's a sport, school or business, we become better and more efficient about managing our peaks and valleys. We can't just peak early in life or just late in life. We're going to have both peaks and valleys every year, every day of our lives. We need to learn to manage our lives, to manage our peaks and valleys. We need to try and strive for each peak to be higher than the last and for valley to be slightly higher than that last valley. Now, of course we're going to have those times where the valley dips a little deeper than planned or expected, but that just means we need to work a little harder to climb out of it. I haven't quite learned how to manage all of my peaks and valleys, but I'm getting better. I try to help those people I train in my Spin classes to push themselves a little higher up that ladder, trying to help them break through those mental barriers. Kailee and I both become stressed at times and at those times we stay strong for each other and help each other out of that valley and begin working up towards our next peak. Sometimes we just need to remember to take a deep breath, relax and just take it one day, project, event, competition, at a time. We will peak and we will valley. We need to strive to make those valleys higher than the previous valley, in addition to making those peaks as high as we possibly can.
Until next time.
Climb High!
Kyle Coon
Monday, July 16, 2012
What's the latest with TSU?
In the past two years team members have gone through a ton of exciting life changes. Brad graduated college (University of Wisconsin-Madison) and moved to Seattle and started working for Safeco Insurance (doing Software Development work). Justin also graduated college (University of North Texas) and got married! He will be moving to Wyoming this fall with his new wife. Ben graduated college (University of Oregon) and is now working full-time. Joe and his wife are enjoying the rigors of a new little girl. Kyle is in his final year of school at the University of Central Florida and will be graduating with his degree in three years. Finally, Pete continues to travel the US working for NOLS and guiding overnight biking trips.
However, now everyone is starting to settle down (location-wise) we are examining the team goals again and where we want to go. In very exciting news Kyle is working with an advertising professor of his to start the process of making the team a 501(c)(3) non-profit organization. If we can obtain this designation we would be able to raise funds much easier as all donations would be tax-exempt. We would also be able to use websites and organizations such as Kickstarter and Sevenly.org in order to help us raise funds. We are all very hopeful that with this professor's help we can obtain this designation. If anyone has any contacts with the legal profession that would be willing to help us please give us their contact information! (send us an email at info@teamsightunseen.com) We are exploring all avenues in order to make this happen. This is by far the biggest hurdle we have right now as a team.
Our goal right now is to be on a plane heading to Aconcagua in the winter (Jan/Feb) of 2014. This is an ambitious goal, but one we think we can obtain. We will need to raise significant funds, but feel that we will be able to do this. We want to get back on the slopes together as a team in order to continue accomplishing our goals and showing the world that blindness is no obstacle!
Another thing we have been kicking around is the idea of Camp Sight Unseen. This camp would allow us to reach out to blind and visually-impaired children and allow them to experience what we experienced in our first days of working together. We want to show them that there is so much out in the world for them to experience, and blindness should not be a limitation to that. We were truly blessed having Global Explorers bring us together, and we want to share that experience with more children. Our idea for the camp is to mix blind and visually-impaired with sighted campers in order to give them a rich experience.
Obviously this is a big undertaking and we realize that. We have thrown around the idea of "piggy-backing" on another camp's logistics (with their approval of course) and then having our own smaller program inside the larger camp itself. We have already pitched this idea to Sanborn Camps in Colorado (whom Kyle worked for last summer). Personally we feel like this is our biggest area for opportunity and an area that we want to grow a lot. We feel that we have a lot to offer blind and visually-impaired children and we want to open their eyes to what is possible.
So right now, that is where we stand. We have all been in pretty constant contact throughout the past year or two. Brad took a trip down to Florida to backpack for a few days with Kyle. Team members continue to meet up to discuss goals and plan for the future. What does everyone think? Like our plans?
Climb High,
-Brad and the rest of the team
Monday, June 25, 2012
The Mt Kilimanjaro Expedition
In light of today being the 5 year anniversary of Brad, Justin and myself summitting Mt Kilimanjaro (tallest mountain in Africa) I wanted to post a couple articles and thoughts from that trip so long ago.
Here is an article that I wrote for Backpacker Magazine for the Winter 2007 issue (the version that appeared in the magazine was much shorter). Enjoy!
The Mount Kilimanjaro Expedition
By Kyle Coon
It was a dream come true. Terry was on my left, and Justin, (Tex) was on my right. We were the three instigators behind this entire thing. It kind of started like this. Tex and I were lounging in our tent at our high camp on the Ankascocha Trail in Peru. Tex turned to me and said, “K Coon, you know we’re showing the world something man. I mean, Big E (Erik Weihenmayer, the first blind man to summit the seven summits) showed them that a blind guy can do anything. But the thing is, we’re showing them again. I have been thinking for a while, I’d like to do something a little bigger.”
I replied, “Yeah, I’ve been wanting to do something a little bigger too.”
He hesitated for a second, and then plunged ahead. “K Coon, how would you like to do Denali?”
It was silent for a minute, “That’s too big for us to do next year.”
Then a few days later the subject was brought up again, this time on the train heading back from Machu Picchu to Cuzco. Tex and Terry were talking about it behind me and suddenly I got a brain wave. Turning around I abruptly said, “Tex, let’s do Kilimanjaro.”
So about a year later, we found ourselves hugging and crying on top of Africa.
Our team leader was Eric Alexander, two time summitter of Kili, various other remarkable summits and guide and teammate to Erik Weihenmayer on Mount Everest. We had managed to piece together a team of ten students. We had come together before on our trip to Peru in the summer of 2006. We were joined once again by Global Explorers, a non-profit organization who brings students to understand their culture and other cultures as well as stress the importance of service along the way.
We departed from the states on June 15, 2007. We flew out of Detroit to Amsterdam, then onto Kilimanjaro International Airport just outside of Arusha Tanzania.
Our trip was not meant to only be a trek up Kilimanjaro, but to experience the culture of Africa and learn about blindness there as well, the reason being that three of the ten on this team were blind, I being one and one visually impaired.
That first day in Arusha, we drove to a school where we met up with twenty Tanzanian students, ten of the students were blind. The students were as interested in us as we were in them. They immediately started teaching us their language, Swahili. We learned a lot, but were all very forgetful. Despite forgetting a lot of the major components of the language, it was great fun learning from them, and carried with us some ways to jokingly insult each other later on the trip.
We went to the local taxidermy office with the students to learn about conservation. We drove to Moshi the following day to a farmer’s plantation and learned about the specifics of soil composition and trends of farming in the area. We also visited a hospital to learn about eye care in Africa. The Mweka Wildlife College was another stop for us. We visited with some more students, this time from the community of Msinga for some traditional dancing and food. We sadly said good-bye to our friends that we had made during the three days in the city. That night, we packed for our morning departure to begin our trek up Mount Kilimanjaro.
We were doing the Marangu Route, which is the more heavily traveled route up Kili. Our first day, we trekked about four hours through the rainforest to our first camp, which was a series of huts set up for sleeping and eating. Now if you aren’t familiar with the way a blind person treks allow me to explain. A sighted guide walks in front of us and jingles a bell which hangs from the loop of a trekking pole. The guide will tap the pole on rocks and roots to be avoided, or if they are comfortable they will give the blind person verbal directions. “Big step up. Rock left.” Sometimes we get bored and form our own hiking lingo. “Step up onto a half a cow. Chicken heads scattered across the trail. Ankle breakers, step carefully.” That first hut we stayed at was called Mandara Hut.
After a breakfast of eggs, toast and choke meal (oatmeal) we set off trekking through the Heather and Morelands. We hiked for about five to seven hours before reaching Horombo Hut. All the while stopping to take pictures and enjoy the scenery. Each sighted person took turns guiding the blind, and all the while we were getting higher.
Horombo was about 12300 feet up. We were getting to higher altitudes. Some people were getting head aches and starting to cough but nothing major. We took the next day and made it an acclimatization day. We hiked to a sight called Zebra Rocks and admired it for some time before heading back to Horombo.
The next day we all clarified as a boring hike. It was a gradual slope upwards through the desert. We passed the last water point on the mountain and continued climbing up to Kibo Hut, around 15500 feet. Everyone was exhausted, even though the hike hadn’t been that rough, the altitude was taking a toll on everyone. Dust was coating our faces and throats. We were coughing, people were developing headaches and it was fairly chilly. Everyone wanted to crawl into their sleeping bag in the hut and get some rest, only waking to have a quick bite of dinner only to go back to bed.
Some would fall asleep for an hour or so and then wake up. Thankfully the only times I woke up during the night were to go outside to use the bathroom. I couldn’t deny that I was worried now. One in the group had been moving very slowly and had barely eaten anything, one had a cough that wasn’t going away, and another was nauscious and suffering from sever headaches. I wondered how many of us could make the summit.
Finally though, midnight of the next night came and we all departed. A couple had gone ahead an hour earlier. Before the rest of us set off for the summit, I asked Tex whether he felt up to guiding me to the summit as we had long wanted to do. “I’m sorry man, but I can barely see tonight and I don’t feel comfortable guiding,” he said. So I tossed by bells to my teammate Max who had been ready to backseat drive me. We set off, but 20 minutes into the climb two from our group had to turn back due to sickness. The rest of us gritted our teeth and continued. Terry had a splitting headache, Alysha had thrown up just before reaching Gilman’s but we were continuing to move upward.
Eventually, Elias, one of our guides, linked his arm with mine and guided me the last two hundred yards to the sign marking the roof of Africa. There we waited as the rest of the group pulled up behind us. And there we all celebrated. A year of hard work and preparation had brought us all to this point, and we all wanted to soak it in for as long as possible. We took a group photo on top before finally turning around and descending down through the rock fields below Gilman’s point, and then down the endless scree fields below that; down through the desert; the heath and moorlands; the rainforest and finally down to the Marangu Gate. But even though that particular climb was over, it was only the beginning of another chapter in my young mountaineering life.
Here is an article that I wrote for Backpacker Magazine for the Winter 2007 issue (the version that appeared in the magazine was much shorter). Enjoy!
The Mount Kilimanjaro Expedition
By Kyle Coon
It was a dream come true. Terry was on my left, and Justin, (Tex) was on my right. We were the three instigators behind this entire thing. It kind of started like this. Tex and I were lounging in our tent at our high camp on the Ankascocha Trail in Peru. Tex turned to me and said, “K Coon, you know we’re showing the world something man. I mean, Big E (Erik Weihenmayer, the first blind man to summit the seven summits) showed them that a blind guy can do anything. But the thing is, we’re showing them again. I have been thinking for a while, I’d like to do something a little bigger.”
I replied, “Yeah, I’ve been wanting to do something a little bigger too.”
He hesitated for a second, and then plunged ahead. “K Coon, how would you like to do Denali?”
It was silent for a minute, “That’s too big for us to do next year.”
Then a few days later the subject was brought up again, this time on the train heading back from Machu Picchu to Cuzco. Tex and Terry were talking about it behind me and suddenly I got a brain wave. Turning around I abruptly said, “Tex, let’s do Kilimanjaro.”
So about a year later, we found ourselves hugging and crying on top of Africa.
Our team leader was Eric Alexander, two time summitter of Kili, various other remarkable summits and guide and teammate to Erik Weihenmayer on Mount Everest. We had managed to piece together a team of ten students. We had come together before on our trip to Peru in the summer of 2006. We were joined once again by Global Explorers, a non-profit organization who brings students to understand their culture and other cultures as well as stress the importance of service along the way.
We departed from the states on June 15, 2007. We flew out of Detroit to Amsterdam, then onto Kilimanjaro International Airport just outside of Arusha Tanzania.
Our trip was not meant to only be a trek up Kilimanjaro, but to experience the culture of Africa and learn about blindness there as well, the reason being that three of the ten on this team were blind, I being one and one visually impaired.
That first day in Arusha, we drove to a school where we met up with twenty Tanzanian students, ten of the students were blind. The students were as interested in us as we were in them. They immediately started teaching us their language, Swahili. We learned a lot, but were all very forgetful. Despite forgetting a lot of the major components of the language, it was great fun learning from them, and carried with us some ways to jokingly insult each other later on the trip.
We went to the local taxidermy office with the students to learn about conservation. We drove to Moshi the following day to a farmer’s plantation and learned about the specifics of soil composition and trends of farming in the area. We also visited a hospital to learn about eye care in Africa. The Mweka Wildlife College was another stop for us. We visited with some more students, this time from the community of Msinga for some traditional dancing and food. We sadly said good-bye to our friends that we had made during the three days in the city. That night, we packed for our morning departure to begin our trek up Mount Kilimanjaro.
We were doing the Marangu Route, which is the more heavily traveled route up Kili. Our first day, we trekked about four hours through the rainforest to our first camp, which was a series of huts set up for sleeping and eating. Now if you aren’t familiar with the way a blind person treks allow me to explain. A sighted guide walks in front of us and jingles a bell which hangs from the loop of a trekking pole. The guide will tap the pole on rocks and roots to be avoided, or if they are comfortable they will give the blind person verbal directions. “Big step up. Rock left.” Sometimes we get bored and form our own hiking lingo. “Step up onto a half a cow. Chicken heads scattered across the trail. Ankle breakers, step carefully.” That first hut we stayed at was called Mandara Hut.
After a breakfast of eggs, toast and choke meal (oatmeal) we set off trekking through the Heather and Morelands. We hiked for about five to seven hours before reaching Horombo Hut. All the while stopping to take pictures and enjoy the scenery. Each sighted person took turns guiding the blind, and all the while we were getting higher.
Horombo was about 12300 feet up. We were getting to higher altitudes. Some people were getting head aches and starting to cough but nothing major. We took the next day and made it an acclimatization day. We hiked to a sight called Zebra Rocks and admired it for some time before heading back to Horombo.
The next day we all clarified as a boring hike. It was a gradual slope upwards through the desert. We passed the last water point on the mountain and continued climbing up to Kibo Hut, around 15500 feet. Everyone was exhausted, even though the hike hadn’t been that rough, the altitude was taking a toll on everyone. Dust was coating our faces and throats. We were coughing, people were developing headaches and it was fairly chilly. Everyone wanted to crawl into their sleeping bag in the hut and get some rest, only waking to have a quick bite of dinner only to go back to bed.
Some would fall asleep for an hour or so and then wake up. Thankfully the only times I woke up during the night were to go outside to use the bathroom. I couldn’t deny that I was worried now. One in the group had been moving very slowly and had barely eaten anything, one had a cough that wasn’t going away, and another was nauscious and suffering from sever headaches. I wondered how many of us could make the summit.
Finally though, midnight of the next night came and we all departed. A couple had gone ahead an hour earlier. Before the rest of us set off for the summit, I asked Tex whether he felt up to guiding me to the summit as we had long wanted to do. “I’m sorry man, but I can barely see tonight and I don’t feel comfortable guiding,” he said. So I tossed by bells to my teammate Max who had been ready to backseat drive me. We set off, but 20 minutes into the climb two from our group had to turn back due to sickness. The rest of us gritted our teeth and continued. Terry had a splitting headache, Alysha had thrown up just before reaching Gilman’s but we were continuing to move upward.
Eventually, Elias, one of our guides, linked his arm with mine and guided me the last two hundred yards to the sign marking the roof of Africa. There we waited as the rest of the group pulled up behind us. And there we all celebrated. A year of hard work and preparation had brought us all to this point, and we all wanted to soak it in for as long as possible. We took a group photo on top before finally turning around and descending down through the rock fields below Gilman’s point, and then down the endless scree fields below that; down through the desert; the heath and moorlands; the rainforest and finally down to the Marangu Gate. But even though that particular climb was over, it was only the beginning of another chapter in my young mountaineering life.
Climbing Blind
In light of today being the 5 year anniversary of Brad, Justin and I summitting Mt Kilimanjaro (tallest mountain in Africa), I wanted to post a couple things/articles that several of us had written after returning from Kili. Here is an article that teammate Justin Grant wrote for his local DBS (Division of Blind Services) Newsletter soon after we returned from Kilimanjaro. Enjoy!
Climbing Blind
By Justin Grant
Looking up into the black sky littered with twinkling lights in the distance, the only thought on my mind was to keep moving. Even after a long week of intense climbing I was somehow able to force my exhausted body further along the steep incline of scree rock that lead to the icy summit of Mt. Kilimanjaro. I could hear the pounding of my teammates feet on the loose rock as we climbed higher in the bitter cold. Terry was just ahead of me, following the bells that Brad rang to guide him. Before we left our high camp, I had confided a fear of mine to the team. I wasn’t sure how well I could perform being as I was the only visually impaired climber on the team. I was hesitant to guide one of my blind team mates on the start of our summit attempt. Adrenaline soared through my body as I dwelled on the thought of what we were about to attempt. I had never before set a goal so large before. The higher we went the colder it got. I could see what appeared to be tiny ice crystals forming on Jill’s balaclava from the condensation from her breath. For hours we climbed on, our sights set on making at least Gillman’s Point. When we heard our team leader Eric Alexander, an Everest veteran, was turning back our hearts and hopes sank into the pit of the volcano itself. We all thought, our inspiration, our leader is turning around and now there’s just a bunch of rookie American teenagers, almost half of which are blind, in the middle of Africa. How can we go on? I once heard a climber tell me the only thing on your mind should be Ambition and Fear. The ambition is the overwhelming desire to get to the top, but the fear will keep you alive. It seemed as though we all had the ambition to make the summit of Mt. Kilimanjaro, and a few had the fear. Three of us in the team decided to turn around that night. All three had previously been sick before we started our summit attempt. Their fear was more real than anyone’s. Even for me, the only visually impaired climber, I was more set on making the summit than anything else, but in the back of my mind, my fear was rising. I could feel my legs beginning to tremble under my weight from the intense use. My greatest fear was that I would have to turn around and I would not be able to summit with my team, who had become like family over the past few days.
Watching what looked like the trail ahead of me I heard Brand yell “I see snow!” I knew we were getting close. We could actually make it. The farther up we went the higher my spirits rose. Adrenaline began pumping again and in just a little while later, we had reached the crater rim. In the distance we could see the morning sun trying peer across the massive crater that lay before me. We had made it to Gillman’s Point. As we took a short break we had to remind each other that this wasn’t the top, there was still a little more to go, but the summit was in sight, Before long, we all got up to make the final pitch for the top. As we walked along the craters edge the suns rays had broken through the dense layer of cloud far off in the distance. It was the most inspiring sun rise I had ever seen. I counted myself lucky for still being able to see it, in Africa of all places.
The sign was in sight. I had guided Terry the final steps of the journey. We were all concerned for him. He looked as though he were about to die. I spoke to guide him. “Terry, just a little further, a few more steps, I want you to feel this sign in front of us.” As I spoke we walked strait for the sign that welcomed us to the roof of Africa. Out of the blue I heard a soft thump just below me. I looked to see that when I had stopped speaking, Terry kept moving. He had run himself into the sign I had wanted him to feel. I guess I still got what I was going for. Terry didn’t seem to care he’d just run into a random sign on top of a volcano.
None the less we had made it. Three blind, six sighted, myself, and our guides.
Climbing Blind
By Justin Grant
Looking up into the black sky littered with twinkling lights in the distance, the only thought on my mind was to keep moving. Even after a long week of intense climbing I was somehow able to force my exhausted body further along the steep incline of scree rock that lead to the icy summit of Mt. Kilimanjaro. I could hear the pounding of my teammates feet on the loose rock as we climbed higher in the bitter cold. Terry was just ahead of me, following the bells that Brad rang to guide him. Before we left our high camp, I had confided a fear of mine to the team. I wasn’t sure how well I could perform being as I was the only visually impaired climber on the team. I was hesitant to guide one of my blind team mates on the start of our summit attempt. Adrenaline soared through my body as I dwelled on the thought of what we were about to attempt. I had never before set a goal so large before. The higher we went the colder it got. I could see what appeared to be tiny ice crystals forming on Jill’s balaclava from the condensation from her breath. For hours we climbed on, our sights set on making at least Gillman’s Point. When we heard our team leader Eric Alexander, an Everest veteran, was turning back our hearts and hopes sank into the pit of the volcano itself. We all thought, our inspiration, our leader is turning around and now there’s just a bunch of rookie American teenagers, almost half of which are blind, in the middle of Africa. How can we go on? I once heard a climber tell me the only thing on your mind should be Ambition and Fear. The ambition is the overwhelming desire to get to the top, but the fear will keep you alive. It seemed as though we all had the ambition to make the summit of Mt. Kilimanjaro, and a few had the fear. Three of us in the team decided to turn around that night. All three had previously been sick before we started our summit attempt. Their fear was more real than anyone’s. Even for me, the only visually impaired climber, I was more set on making the summit than anything else, but in the back of my mind, my fear was rising. I could feel my legs beginning to tremble under my weight from the intense use. My greatest fear was that I would have to turn around and I would not be able to summit with my team, who had become like family over the past few days.
Watching what looked like the trail ahead of me I heard Brand yell “I see snow!” I knew we were getting close. We could actually make it. The farther up we went the higher my spirits rose. Adrenaline began pumping again and in just a little while later, we had reached the crater rim. In the distance we could see the morning sun trying peer across the massive crater that lay before me. We had made it to Gillman’s Point. As we took a short break we had to remind each other that this wasn’t the top, there was still a little more to go, but the summit was in sight, Before long, we all got up to make the final pitch for the top. As we walked along the craters edge the suns rays had broken through the dense layer of cloud far off in the distance. It was the most inspiring sun rise I had ever seen. I counted myself lucky for still being able to see it, in Africa of all places.
The sign was in sight. I had guided Terry the final steps of the journey. We were all concerned for him. He looked as though he were about to die. I spoke to guide him. “Terry, just a little further, a few more steps, I want you to feel this sign in front of us.” As I spoke we walked strait for the sign that welcomed us to the roof of Africa. Out of the blue I heard a soft thump just below me. I looked to see that when I had stopped speaking, Terry kept moving. He had run himself into the sign I had wanted him to feel. I guess I still got what I was going for. Terry didn’t seem to care he’d just run into a random sign on top of a volcano.
None the less we had made it. Three blind, six sighted, myself, and our guides.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Slaying the RAMM
Slaying The RAMM
The RAMM. Shelf Road, Canyon City, Colorado.
Wednesday, July 12, 2011
I dangled from my daisychain, feet hanging in open space the wall just a few inches away. I was cleaning a 5.11C that BC had put up called Cactus Rose. My forearms were burning and it was hard to squeeze open the gate of a carabiner. Cleaning a route always made me nervous because there's always that fear of dropping that lifeline known as a rope. I threaded the rope through the bolts and tied back in. Then unclipped the daisychain and BC slowly lowered me back to the ground. Ian had been cleaning the 5.9 crack climb that we all had climbed and everyone was now talking of their plans. Ian and BC were planning on heading out and getting back to Florissant. Brendan and I were going to stay and maybe do another climb or two. We wanted to try putting up a 5.10. Neither of us had ever led a 5.10 before. BC had put up Cactus Rose and I'd simply top roped it. I definitely was not strong or skilled enough to lead 5.11 just yet. But Brendan and I both felt that it was time to push our level.
So after a short break, some water and barbecue chips we flipped through our guidebook and came across a route called "The RAMM". Rated at 5.10 plus we thought this would be a good project to work on. The route was 9 bolts plus 2 anchors. Brendan took the first crack at the RAMM.
The first bolt was about 15 feet up on a very smooth face. Brendan couldn't find good enough hand and foot holds on the face to get up, so he started on the far right and worked up a dihedral and then traversed over to the bolt to clip in. He then began working the face but wound up working back over to the right back to the dihedral. He worked up and finally clipped the 6th bolt and it looked like he might be able to pull off the ascent on the first go. But then he stalled out and was unable to clip the 7th bolt. He tried several more times but just couldn't make the clip. So finally, he clipped a bale-out biner and cleaned the route so I could take a shot at it.
I followed Brendan's same line of climbing and managed to get up to and clip the 6th bolt. The 7th bolt was only a few feet higher and it took me a few goes but I finally clipped it. The eighth bolt was up a fair distance, about 10-12 feet over a small slightly overhanging roof. I was exhausted and attempted to claw my way up towards the bolt. But the roof repeatedly forced me to back down. I didn't want to take a whipper and crash into the wall. In short, I wasn't bold enough to go for it. I got to a point where I felt some jugs that could definitely be helpful, but apart from that not much. I didn't know how to get to the eighth bolt.
I reclipped the bale-out biner and rapp down, cleaning off all the quickdraws. Brendan and I disappointedly packed up our gear and began moving down toward the canyon floor and Brendan's car. But we both vowed to return and "Slay The RAMM".
Over the next two weeks I spent hours in the small bouldering house on Sanborn camp property where I worked for the summer. I was determined that the next time I attempted the RAMM I would conquer it.
A couple weeks after our day of climbing at Shelf, Brendan and I returned with a plan of "Slaying The RAMM". It was Saturday afternoon and we planned on climbing until it was too dark to climb, or until we just couldn't climb any more.
We arrived at Shelf around 4:00 and climbed a couple of 5.8 warm ups. Then we turned our attention to the hated RAMM. We studied it for a while and then Brendan took a crack at it. He worked his way up it, using more of the face this time around and got to the seventh bolt with little difficulty. We had both trained hard and felt confident that after a few tries we would conquer the RAMM. We had also decided that we were going to be bold and not afraid to take a few whippers. Brendan promptly took about a 15 footer in trying to go for the eighth bolt. The whippers slowly increased in length and violence as he continued trying. He finally gave up since his forearms and fingers were burning.
It was my turn. I went for it and worked the face for a good while. I clipped the seventh bolt and then went for the kill. I climbed up to the jugs I had noticed on my last attempt and cranked off a pull-up. I reached up high for what I hoped would be a good hold, and I promptly lost grip and peeled. "Shit!" I cursed as I came to a bouncing stop about two bolts below. I tried again and this time got a little higher, but again fell.
Brendan had tried working up left and then back right to try and clip the eighth bolt. I decided to look for something on the right. I found a kneebar and middle finger lock off that was fairly solid and then I reached up and locked into a semi-solid jug that flaked out from a ledge about four inches wide. If I could pull off a mantle on the ledge the bolt would be mine. But my fingers slipped off the jug and the ledge and I tumbled into space again. I repeated this maneuver several times but always came up just shy of the bolt.
Finally, I backed down and Brendan took another crack at. it. He managed to clip the quickdraw into the bolt but then fell before he could clip the rope. He came off after a few more tries. I tried clipping the rope but also failed. Finally, on his third go up the wall Brendan clipped the rope into the quickdraw. But now we were presented with a different part of the crux.
Brendan noticed that the ledge was part of a block that was not entirely solid on the wall. 1%F we could somehow stand on the ledge we could reach the next bolt. But the difficulty was getting our feet up on the ledge without it breaking off or up falling and smashing into the rock and bloodying up our bodies. Brendan gave it a couple goes but backed down. I climbed up with the rope secured as a top rope to see if 1 Could somehow work out a sequence. I thought I found a sequence to get up on the ledge by grabbing onto a soap bar sized chunk of rock up and to the left on the edge of a roof, and then heel hoking the ledge and then cranking up and reaching with the right hand for the bolt. But my arms and legs were shaking too badly that I couldn't pull off the move. We decided that we couldn't yet "Slay the RAMM". I clipped our trusty bale-out biner into the bolt and rapped down.
My heart was heavy with the disappointment of being unable to complete a climb. But I was also satisfied that we'd given it everything we had for that day. We returned to Shelf Road later in the summer. The RAMM was calling our names but we resisted. We instead turned our attention to some slightly easier 5.10s knowing that we'd have to be much better climbers before we could finish the RAMM. I know the RAMM is there. I know it's been climbed by numerous others that have visited Shelf Road. I probably won't return to Shelf until next summer. The RAMM is there and he isn't going anywhere. When I'm climbing in the gym here in Orlando the RAMM lurks in the background of my mind. I know he's there, and I know he's waiting for me. One day I will return to face down and slay the RAMM.
The RAMM. Shelf Road, Canyon City, Colorado.
Wednesday, July 12, 2011
I dangled from my daisychain, feet hanging in open space the wall just a few inches away. I was cleaning a 5.11C that BC had put up called Cactus Rose. My forearms were burning and it was hard to squeeze open the gate of a carabiner. Cleaning a route always made me nervous because there's always that fear of dropping that lifeline known as a rope. I threaded the rope through the bolts and tied back in. Then unclipped the daisychain and BC slowly lowered me back to the ground. Ian had been cleaning the 5.9 crack climb that we all had climbed and everyone was now talking of their plans. Ian and BC were planning on heading out and getting back to Florissant. Brendan and I were going to stay and maybe do another climb or two. We wanted to try putting up a 5.10. Neither of us had ever led a 5.10 before. BC had put up Cactus Rose and I'd simply top roped it. I definitely was not strong or skilled enough to lead 5.11 just yet. But Brendan and I both felt that it was time to push our level.
So after a short break, some water and barbecue chips we flipped through our guidebook and came across a route called "The RAMM". Rated at 5.10 plus we thought this would be a good project to work on. The route was 9 bolts plus 2 anchors. Brendan took the first crack at the RAMM.
The first bolt was about 15 feet up on a very smooth face. Brendan couldn't find good enough hand and foot holds on the face to get up, so he started on the far right and worked up a dihedral and then traversed over to the bolt to clip in. He then began working the face but wound up working back over to the right back to the dihedral. He worked up and finally clipped the 6th bolt and it looked like he might be able to pull off the ascent on the first go. But then he stalled out and was unable to clip the 7th bolt. He tried several more times but just couldn't make the clip. So finally, he clipped a bale-out biner and cleaned the route so I could take a shot at it.
I followed Brendan's same line of climbing and managed to get up to and clip the 6th bolt. The 7th bolt was only a few feet higher and it took me a few goes but I finally clipped it. The eighth bolt was up a fair distance, about 10-12 feet over a small slightly overhanging roof. I was exhausted and attempted to claw my way up towards the bolt. But the roof repeatedly forced me to back down. I didn't want to take a whipper and crash into the wall. In short, I wasn't bold enough to go for it. I got to a point where I felt some jugs that could definitely be helpful, but apart from that not much. I didn't know how to get to the eighth bolt.
I reclipped the bale-out biner and rapp down, cleaning off all the quickdraws. Brendan and I disappointedly packed up our gear and began moving down toward the canyon floor and Brendan's car. But we both vowed to return and "Slay The RAMM".
Over the next two weeks I spent hours in the small bouldering house on Sanborn camp property where I worked for the summer. I was determined that the next time I attempted the RAMM I would conquer it.
A couple weeks after our day of climbing at Shelf, Brendan and I returned with a plan of "Slaying The RAMM". It was Saturday afternoon and we planned on climbing until it was too dark to climb, or until we just couldn't climb any more.
We arrived at Shelf around 4:00 and climbed a couple of 5.8 warm ups. Then we turned our attention to the hated RAMM. We studied it for a while and then Brendan took a crack at it. He worked his way up it, using more of the face this time around and got to the seventh bolt with little difficulty. We had both trained hard and felt confident that after a few tries we would conquer the RAMM. We had also decided that we were going to be bold and not afraid to take a few whippers. Brendan promptly took about a 15 footer in trying to go for the eighth bolt. The whippers slowly increased in length and violence as he continued trying. He finally gave up since his forearms and fingers were burning.
It was my turn. I went for it and worked the face for a good while. I clipped the seventh bolt and then went for the kill. I climbed up to the jugs I had noticed on my last attempt and cranked off a pull-up. I reached up high for what I hoped would be a good hold, and I promptly lost grip and peeled. "Shit!" I cursed as I came to a bouncing stop about two bolts below. I tried again and this time got a little higher, but again fell.
Brendan had tried working up left and then back right to try and clip the eighth bolt. I decided to look for something on the right. I found a kneebar and middle finger lock off that was fairly solid and then I reached up and locked into a semi-solid jug that flaked out from a ledge about four inches wide. If I could pull off a mantle on the ledge the bolt would be mine. But my fingers slipped off the jug and the ledge and I tumbled into space again. I repeated this maneuver several times but always came up just shy of the bolt.
Finally, I backed down and Brendan took another crack at. it. He managed to clip the quickdraw into the bolt but then fell before he could clip the rope. He came off after a few more tries. I tried clipping the rope but also failed. Finally, on his third go up the wall Brendan clipped the rope into the quickdraw. But now we were presented with a different part of the crux.
Brendan noticed that the ledge was part of a block that was not entirely solid on the wall. 1%F we could somehow stand on the ledge we could reach the next bolt. But the difficulty was getting our feet up on the ledge without it breaking off or up falling and smashing into the rock and bloodying up our bodies. Brendan gave it a couple goes but backed down. I climbed up with the rope secured as a top rope to see if 1 Could somehow work out a sequence. I thought I found a sequence to get up on the ledge by grabbing onto a soap bar sized chunk of rock up and to the left on the edge of a roof, and then heel hoking the ledge and then cranking up and reaching with the right hand for the bolt. But my arms and legs were shaking too badly that I couldn't pull off the move. We decided that we couldn't yet "Slay the RAMM". I clipped our trusty bale-out biner into the bolt and rapped down.
My heart was heavy with the disappointment of being unable to complete a climb. But I was also satisfied that we'd given it everything we had for that day. We returned to Shelf Road later in the summer. The RAMM was calling our names but we resisted. We instead turned our attention to some slightly easier 5.10s knowing that we'd have to be much better climbers before we could finish the RAMM. I know the RAMM is there. I know it's been climbed by numerous others that have visited Shelf Road. I probably won't return to Shelf until next summer. The RAMM is there and he isn't going anywhere. When I'm climbing in the gym here in Orlando the RAMM lurks in the background of my mind. I know he's there, and I know he's waiting for me. One day I will return to face down and slay the RAMM.
Montezuma's Tower
Montezuma's Tower:
Garden of the Gods
Colorado Springs, Colorado
Throughout the summer I'd wanted to do a multipitch rock climb. But most multipitch climbs require trad gear and trad experience, neither of which I had. Brendan and I had been climbing together since late June and we'd become pretty darn good climbing partners. Brendan flipped through the Colorado guidebook I'd bought and came across a climb called Montezuma's Tower. It was a two pitch sport route in Garden of the Gods. Rated at only 5.7, the entire climb was only two pitches, but I'd never climbed higher than about 100 ft. I'd done a 150 foot rappel when I was 11 years old, but I'd never climbed an actual tower of rock. So Brendan and I decided that it would be a great first multipitch lead for the both of us. Something well within our climbing ability although a little more exposed and run out than what we were used to.
So one Friday night in early August, we drove to Colorado Springs and sat out a storm. It looked as if we weren't going to get to take a crack at Montezuma's Tower, but finally the weather cleared. It was going on 8:00, but we felt we could climb the route fast enough that we wouldn't be caught in the pitch black of night.
We found the tower which according to our guidebook rarely saw a day without an ascent. We quickly prepared and Brendan took the first lead. Even though the climbing was relatively easy, the first bolt was still a nerve racking 25 ft up. It also didn't help that one of Brendan's shoes had a hole right at the big toe, and our shoes were covered in sand and didn't find a whole lot of purchase on the gritty red sandstone.
Brendan made the first clip and continued his way up to a pocket that he threaded with a length of webbing and then used a locking carabiner to clip the rope. This served as an extra point of potection...j in case. The bolts weren't top notch quality and neither of us really trusted taking a fall on them.
Brendan made it to the belay ledge and set up the master point and belayed me up. Brendan had clipped the first four bolts, which left me the final pitch to the top. Although this second pitch was not very technically demanding rated at only 5.5, the feeling of exposure really threw me for a loop.
I ran the rope through the master point that Brendan had set up and then began to climb. It was a long run out, probably in the 20-25 foot range. Fortunately there was little danger of me falling because the rock was covered in enormous pockets and ledges. I eventually clipped a quickdraw through the eye of the bolt and clipped my rope to it as well. In my head I was thinking, "holy shit, I'd hate to take a fall on this". I continued up the spine of the tower. Pretty soon I was practically straddling the spine as if I were climbing the crest of some giant prehistoric sea creature. Suddenly I was at the top. I had one foot on either side and the feeling of openness blew me away. It was nerve racking and exciting all at the same time. Now the only issue was finding the anchors. Unfortunately it was now too dark for Brendan to be much help about 50 or so feet below me.
I ran my hands all over the rock desperately wanting to find the bolts. Where were they? I had no idea and neither did Brendan. The top of Montezuma's Tower is a thin knife edge so I figured that the bolts must be further along the knife edge. So with one foot on either side of the knife blade I inched my way forward feeling my way until finally my hands came in contact with the chains. I breathed a sigh of relief. I anchored in and reached for my ATC to belay Brendan up, but came up empty. Quietly cursing to myself I realized that I must have left the ATC at the base when Brendan belayed me up, even though I could have sworn I'd clipped it back to its locker. Fortunately though, Brendan was wearing my crag bag in which I had an extra ATCDDS I wrigged up a body belay which I'd learned to do on Mt Hood for just such an occasion. I would have rather done a munter belay but I didn't want to accidently mess up the knot.
I safely belayed Brendan up and he clipped into the anchor. I fished out my extra ATC and we flaked out the second rope we'd brought up for the rappel. Brendan tied the ropes together and fed one through the bolts of the anchor. We set up the rappel and made it down safely. It was awesome getting to rappell 145-150 feet. Unfortunately, it was too dark to get much video or pictorial footage, but we had an awesome time.
It took us a while to pull the ropes, untangle and unknot and then finally coil them. Then we had to find our way out and back to the road and finally to Brendan's car. We drove back to Woodland Park and celebrated with a meal of double bacon cheese burgers and chocolate milk shakes from Sonic. We knew that we'd taken way longer on an easy multipitch climb than was necessary, but it being our first one we realized that speed would come with practice and time and we couldn't wait for the next one.
Garden of the Gods
Colorado Springs, Colorado
Throughout the summer I'd wanted to do a multipitch rock climb. But most multipitch climbs require trad gear and trad experience, neither of which I had. Brendan and I had been climbing together since late June and we'd become pretty darn good climbing partners. Brendan flipped through the Colorado guidebook I'd bought and came across a climb called Montezuma's Tower. It was a two pitch sport route in Garden of the Gods. Rated at only 5.7, the entire climb was only two pitches, but I'd never climbed higher than about 100 ft. I'd done a 150 foot rappel when I was 11 years old, but I'd never climbed an actual tower of rock. So Brendan and I decided that it would be a great first multipitch lead for the both of us. Something well within our climbing ability although a little more exposed and run out than what we were used to.
So one Friday night in early August, we drove to Colorado Springs and sat out a storm. It looked as if we weren't going to get to take a crack at Montezuma's Tower, but finally the weather cleared. It was going on 8:00, but we felt we could climb the route fast enough that we wouldn't be caught in the pitch black of night.
We found the tower which according to our guidebook rarely saw a day without an ascent. We quickly prepared and Brendan took the first lead. Even though the climbing was relatively easy, the first bolt was still a nerve racking 25 ft up. It also didn't help that one of Brendan's shoes had a hole right at the big toe, and our shoes were covered in sand and didn't find a whole lot of purchase on the gritty red sandstone.
Brendan made the first clip and continued his way up to a pocket that he threaded with a length of webbing and then used a locking carabiner to clip the rope. This served as an extra point of potection...j in case. The bolts weren't top notch quality and neither of us really trusted taking a fall on them.
Brendan made it to the belay ledge and set up the master point and belayed me up. Brendan had clipped the first four bolts, which left me the final pitch to the top. Although this second pitch was not very technically demanding rated at only 5.5, the feeling of exposure really threw me for a loop.
I ran the rope through the master point that Brendan had set up and then began to climb. It was a long run out, probably in the 20-25 foot range. Fortunately there was little danger of me falling because the rock was covered in enormous pockets and ledges. I eventually clipped a quickdraw through the eye of the bolt and clipped my rope to it as well. In my head I was thinking, "holy shit, I'd hate to take a fall on this". I continued up the spine of the tower. Pretty soon I was practically straddling the spine as if I were climbing the crest of some giant prehistoric sea creature. Suddenly I was at the top. I had one foot on either side and the feeling of openness blew me away. It was nerve racking and exciting all at the same time. Now the only issue was finding the anchors. Unfortunately it was now too dark for Brendan to be much help about 50 or so feet below me.
I ran my hands all over the rock desperately wanting to find the bolts. Where were they? I had no idea and neither did Brendan. The top of Montezuma's Tower is a thin knife edge so I figured that the bolts must be further along the knife edge. So with one foot on either side of the knife blade I inched my way forward feeling my way until finally my hands came in contact with the chains. I breathed a sigh of relief. I anchored in and reached for my ATC to belay Brendan up, but came up empty. Quietly cursing to myself I realized that I must have left the ATC at the base when Brendan belayed me up, even though I could have sworn I'd clipped it back to its locker. Fortunately though, Brendan was wearing my crag bag in which I had an extra ATCDDS I wrigged up a body belay which I'd learned to do on Mt Hood for just such an occasion. I would have rather done a munter belay but I didn't want to accidently mess up the knot.
I safely belayed Brendan up and he clipped into the anchor. I fished out my extra ATC and we flaked out the second rope we'd brought up for the rappel. Brendan tied the ropes together and fed one through the bolts of the anchor. We set up the rappel and made it down safely. It was awesome getting to rappell 145-150 feet. Unfortunately, it was too dark to get much video or pictorial footage, but we had an awesome time.
It took us a while to pull the ropes, untangle and unknot and then finally coil them. Then we had to find our way out and back to the road and finally to Brendan's car. We drove back to Woodland Park and celebrated with a meal of double bacon cheese burgers and chocolate milk shakes from Sonic. We knew that we'd taken way longer on an easy multipitch climb than was necessary, but it being our first one we realized that speed would come with practice and time and we couldn't wait for the next one.
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