Friday was, perhaps, my best day yet here in Kentucky. Dan and I headed down to Drive By crag and had our sights set on the dozen or so 5 star routes at the wall. Doing each and every one of them was probably out of the picture, but we'd at least give our best to put a dent into the dozen. I'd been there before, one day last fall with my buddy Derek Lyle, and remembered a fantastic 12a called Check Your Grip that had bouted me at the crux. I fell off, not from being unable to do the hardest moves, but instead from a pump in my forearms that left my motor skills so inebriated that to hold any jug, regardless of size, would have been impossible, even to save my own life were it in danger.
My hope was that I'd be able to get back on CYG and feel more accustomed to the steep, unrelenting climbing. After Dan and I warmed up on two great 5.11's, we moved our rope bag under that first objective. Dan went first, and with whatever hazy beta I could provide, tied into the cord and sauntered skyward. He's only been in the gorge for 36 hours, but after a summer of crushing, he is apparently in fine shape. There was minimal thrutching, and he flashed the route in fine style. Now the pressure was on me.
I lowered him back down to the ground, psyched for my buddy, but nervous that, even armed with nearly three weeks of climbing here, I wouldn't be able to do the route. My main goal was to repeat the 4x4 mantra, keep breathing, and give myself a good shot at sending. Dan gave me a few tips on how to go at the holds he'd just grabbed, and I pulled onto the wall.
The good news is that after dedicating a large portion of this otherwise meager life to climbing, I'm getting stronger. As we laughed at the dinner table after we'd driven home and found our friends Nick and Robin now occupying The Highlander, "I should freaking hope so!" It's really fun to get onto a climb you'd been on just a year earlier, one that felt impossible for one reason or another, and pretty well waltz to the chains.
After doing Check Your Grip, Dan and I got on Hakuna Matata. This is another 12a, one that wanders up a vertical wall painted in striking orange and gray streaks. Hakuna offers incipient cracks and little chalk for the 90 feet between the ground and anchors. Fortunately, it had the draws hanging on the bolts, which made for a slightly easier time on the climb. I managed the onsight, and for the entire 25 minutes or so that I was climbing, my mind was nowhere else.
Everyone's got an onsight limit, a grade they feel they've got a chance to do first try, without beta or preemptive know-how, whether it's 5.9 or 5.14. I love the test of slowly working through unfamiliar sequences, managing my body's fatigue and mind's wanderings. Only once, while I was resting on a jug at about mid height, did I emerge from my trance, yelling down to the ground to say hello to a friend who'd arrived. Beyond this quick conversation, I only saw the holds in front of me, only worried about the next few feet of rock instead of the coming days/months/years of life. I love the meditation that this type of climbing gives. Doing Hakuna Matata first try, onsight was exactly that moment of focus that makes climbing so magnetic for me.
After Hakuna, Dan and I went over to a climb called Primus Noctum, a route I'd heard about and watched another climber attempt. The crux, a defined bouldery section after a long run of easy but slightly pumpy climbing, was the main worry. Again, I tied in and tried to do another 5.12 route first try. Quickly, I found myself at the rest just before the boulder problem, and I felt so relaxed, so confident in my ability to do the coming hard moves. I rested as long as I felt I needed, and then calmly, smoothly pulled through the small crimps to the large horns above, clipping the chains and claiming another send. Beyond just a few minutes of focus when I was on an individual route, I realized that nearly the entire day was spent in that zone. I happily lowered down as the sun began its slow melt into the Earth, but was hoping for one last climb before darkness.
I rested a few minutes, and then hopped onto an 11D that I'd never done, nor heard anything about. I was relaxed for the climb, talking to people on the ground while at a rest and enjoying the perfect knee bars and sinker hand jams that I found along the way. I've spent enough days at the Creek and at Rifle that when I'm lucky enough to find myself fused to the rock in either of those two positions, it's like cheating. I clipped the chains and lowered back as the dark set in, really happy that my day ended with so many good sends. For me, that's a banner day.
When I got back to the cabin, the good luck continued. Nick had done Table of Colors, and when we started talking about my progress (or lack thereof) on the route, he gave me a crucial suggestion of where to put my right foot when I'm embroiled in the crux's hardest moves. I'm really excited to go back, armed with the new sequence, to try to send the route before I have to take off.
Today, Dan and I are resting at The Highlander while the rest of the crew, now swollen with good friends Dave, Brie, Nick and Robin, are out climbing. Two more friends get here tonight, and the homey needlepoint on the wall will ring true: "May our house always be too small to hold all of our friends." I'm excited to kick back with a beer this evening after they return home, listening to stories about their day at The Red. I hope they find a tranquility and presence of mind like I managed upon yesterday.
Abaluba! Life is good!
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