In which I get very worked up about water in California

I took a road trip from Los Angeles to the Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest last weekend with Di. On the way back down the 395, we noticed a Crystal Geyser plant. We were incredulous that this plant existed in a hot basin just a couple of hours west of Death Valley. Practically all we could see on either side of the highway was dry, parched grass.

Yesterday I saw a link to this article about East Porterville on Facebook, a town whose wells have run dry and who now have to resort to using bottled water. The photo for the article showed boxes of Crystal Geyser being distributed to residents.

East Porterville is on the western side of the Sierra, at very close to the same latitude of a Crystal Geyser plant.

I've fallen into a vortex of links about the drought and about Crystal Geyser in the Eastern Sierra. In 2012, the plant in Olancha alone proposed to pump and profit from the equivalent of nearly 4,000 individuals' water usage: about 120 million gallons per year. There have been concerns about this plant since it was first proposed in 1996: Corporate giants slurp up a tiny town's pure water.

That Sierra granite makes California water taste so good. Except now there's no snow on the Sierra.

Crystal Geyser is only one of many companies profiting from drying up California, in large part because "California happens to be the only Western state without groundwater regulation or management of major groundwater use. In other words, if you're a water company and you drill down and find water in California, it's all yours."

The more I read about the drought, government policy, and the bottled water industry, the angrier and more frustrated I get. The idea of allowing people to buy the best-tasting water essentially privileges those who have the economic access to buy water over the public's right to have potable water out of the tap.

I haven't been able to find any information about business regulation in relation to the drought. Is it just not being covered, or is it not happening? I imagine that the economic impact of restricting business' water use is a concern, and it is often cited that "reclaimed water" is used for corporate lawns and golf courses rather than potable water, but it just doesn't make sense to see huge expanses of green while individuals are urged to let theirs go brown or face possible fines.

I make the the drive between Los Angeles and the Bay Area often (which I recognize is also environmentally problematic). Along the way, there are long stretches of dry, dusty land displaying signs that say things like "Congress-Created Dust Bowl," "No Water = No Jobs," "Water = Jobs."

Image source

From reading Cadillac Desert, I've gathered that agricultural operations in California should never have grown as immense as they have. While the Central Valley has incredibly nutrient-rich soil, California doesn't have the water to support huge export agribusinesses (which aren't sustainable even when there is sufficient water).

Water in California is complicated. The majority of the us live in a desert, but we do not live or do business as though we are. This drought is not our first wake-up call. Whether we're going to answer in any meaningful ways is yet to be seen.

What the report about East Porterville made me realize is that the small rural towns without immense political and economic capital are going to suffer first, while our populous urban centers will be able to keep putting off the very real consequences of this drought for some time. We get to think about this drought in the abstract, when it is not at all abstract.

--

Octavia Butler's Parable of the Sower came up in our conversation on the roadtrip, as it often does when talking about California and drought and climate change. The book's starting point is just 10 years from now, and we were dumbstruck by how easily we could imagine the world looking the way Butler describes. More on that in another post.

Bishop, Again. Buttermilks. Delicious.

It's a happy place. Went with a bunch of folks from Bridges Rock Gym. Such fun. Such frightening topouts. Such hilarity that I find myself in a dubstep-y climbing trip video.

Bishop with the Boys from trish ang on Vimeo.

"You're Gonna Move To Bishop, Aren't You?"

Very very tempted, especially now that Black Sheep has a beautiful big new space-- I've been told that they have beer and an open mic night now. I could write and share more rock climbing poetry. I might move to this climbing paradise some day, but not any time soon. 

For now, I'm enjoying Oakland and looking forward to trips to Yosemite and South Lake Tahoe during the coming warm months. 

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Some photos from 4.5 days in Bishop

We drove through the night on Wednesday and arrived early Thursday morning. This is how I felt:

Photo by feesh

It was interesting being there for a bouldering-centric trip. There were a lot of bouldering pads. So many that I slept on one and used another as a desk:

I still managed to get two days in at Owens River Gorge. I climbed a lovely long route with great exposure in Upper Elbow Room. I can't wait to try more of the areas that are farther from the approaches. China Wall, All You Can Eat Cliff, Warm Up Wall and Pub Wall see so much action, but there's a lot of fun to be had just a few more minutes in.

The group got motivated enough to wake up before dawn so we could watch the sun come up from a hotspring:

Being outdoors all the time makes it feel healthy to have bacon, bread, and eggs for breakfast every day. This day, I happened to also have avocado. Don't forget the Tapatio (which is made in Vernon! LA love forever).

I got so wrapped up in trying boulder problems that I hardly took any pictures during the days at the Happys and the Buttermilks. But someone did! 

I fell soon after this photo was taken. After I'd gotten through what was supposed to be the harder part. Forgot all about my feet because I was busy sassing someone (not pictured). Next time, Green Wall.

Photo by kilajoules

A bunch of us tried this problem with a swarm of mosquitoes devouring us:

Photo by kilajoules

So much fun climbing with a bunch of awesome women, many of whom are involved with developing a climbing app. 

Climbing, poetry, and community. So far 2013 and Oakland have been pretty good to me.

Climbing at Owens River Gorge - Days 5 & 6

I lied. I'm not sitting at the Looney Bean. I'm at Black Sheep Espresso Bar, sipping on the cup-of-the-day, charging my phone. While I haven't had as much luck with finding sport climbing partners as I'd like, there's plenty of bouldering here, so it's highly unlikely that I won't be able to climb something on any given day. Fantastic.

5-6 October 2012

The last two days were all about climbing, climbing, climbing.

On the 5th day, I finally found my sweet spot with arranging my gear for the approach. Carrying the water bottles on the inside of the bag instead of in the side pockets centered the weight better, and instead of cramming the rope into the pack, I slung the rope bag strap over my shoulder and cradled it something like a baby. This made the approach easier. The approach was even better on the last day of climbing, when I decided to start tossing the rope a few feet ahead of me as a I scrambled down the gully. Hooray for durable rope bags!

At the bottom of the Central Gorge approach.

As my focus on climbing increased, I took fewer and fewer photos. I regret not taking more photos of Antoine, Ramsel, and Trevor on their climbs-- I was always either climbing myself, belaying, or eating.  Or watching, slackjawed, as they climbed very hard things. Trevor and Antoine both made an effort to take photos during my milestone climbs, which, as the beginner-est of the group, I had a couple of. I didn't think of it, but it's so nice to be able to look back at those moments now. I owe them.

Here I am on Orange Peel (5.10c), the hardest grade I've tried to redpoint so far. 

Love those high first bolts.

I fell on my first attempt, and Antoine said, "You must give it a second go." So I did. Success! I climbed it without falling.

Trevor told me to pose. "No Posing" rule broken.

I was elated. Other things were climbed that day, but it's all a blur now. Fun was had. Beer was drunk. We also had friends pull up late that night and join us at camp. 

On Day 6, I kept in mind the "Last Day, Best Day" motto, and after climbing the beautiful Dr. Evil (5.10a) and tricky Tall Dollar (5.10b), I set my sights on trying something beyond my ability and experience: The O.R.G. asm (5.11a) Because it was the last day, so why not?

I think I fell sometime near this moment.

Picked myself up and moved through the hard part.

I fell once on the first attempt. Only once! I couldn't believe it when I got back down to the ground. The thought was already planted in my head without Antoine saying a thing: I'd give it a second go. I ate some chocolate, drank some water, stretched my fingers, massaged my arms, and returned for another attempt. 

And it happened. I climbed it without falling, though I got nervous near the top, because I kept thinking about how upsetting it would be to fall at that point. And I made it. 

It was only one route, and I know that there are "easier" routes that will be difficult for me, but I feel different. Like I get it now, what it means to surpass what you think your limits are. What can happen if you try to. I'm thinking more now about what I think is possible for myself, not just in climbing. 

End-of-trip fingertips, clean & bruised.

They were dirty before they became my camp shoes.

The next morning, I took in my last sunrise, stopped for an hour or so in Bishop, and headed back west. Head full of ponderings on what's possible. 

End.

Rest Day, Owens River Gorge - Day Four

4 October 2012

It was time to give our tendons, muscles, and skin a chance to recover after two and half days of climbing. Also, we had to go into town to get water and a few supplies (beer). 

Another beautiful morning.

While camping in the pinyons, with mountains and trees all around, it feels beautifully remote. But drive about thirty minutes south, and creature comforts are all available in town, including a more-than-decent cup of coffee, and gambling (or so I hear).

Looney Bean Coffee, on Main St.

After a lazy morning at the coffee shop and a run to the grocery store, we stopped at The Pit campground to pump some water. Not quite as tasty as the Hetch Hetchy water you get from the tap in San Francisco, but cool and refreshing just the same.

I'd been eyeing big, portable water storage containers at REI for a while, but I think I'll stick with re-using gallon jugs because they're much easier to handle, though not as durable. Once their water containment life is done, though, they can become sub-irrigated planters! Now I just need to think some more on how I'll rig a portable garden on/in my little car. Any car-gardening out there?

After re-upping on water, we decided to explore some of the other crags nearby. Ramsel was feeling the urge to do some crack climbing, which isn't as tough on the hands, and I was a more-than-willing second. We found ourselves at Pine Creek Canyon, where vertical dance company Project Bandaloop was occupying part of the crag with one of their classes. You must click the link and see for yourself. You must.

Since the classic Pratt's Crack (5.9) was occupied by Bandaloop, Ramsel set his sights on Sheila (5.10a). It was his first trad lead of the grade. I wish I hadn't forgotten my camera in the car. Since the climb required two ropes to rappel back down, I had to trail a rope behind me, attached to my harness. I also had to clip the trailing rope into some gear for directionals since Antoine planned on climbing up after me. That was a first for me; I really felt the weight of the rope during some of the tougher sections of the climb near the top. Thankfully I was able to make it up. We had some rope management fun at the top as I belayed Antoine up. Poor Ramsel had to sit up there through gusty winds the entire time, and flaked the rope over his shoulders for warmth. After Antoine powered through the climb, we all abseiled down, explored Pine Creek a bit, and returned to camp. A rest day well-spent, I say.

*The Eastern Sierra has so much climbing, it's over-whelming. I'm not even finished writing this trip report yet, and I'm already about to head back to the area. My next post will probably be written at The Looney Bean. Wish me luck finding climbing partners.

Climbing at Owens River Gorge - Day Three

3 October 2012

On the third morning, I finally began to hit my car-camping stride. I started back on writing each morning, though I reduced my output from three pages to one page. Must spend less time navel-gazing when there's breakfast to cook and gear to pack and walls to climb.

Dirty windows.

I didn't want to have to deal with cleaning my french press, so I planned to drink yerba mate instead of my usual coffee each day. I did, however, make an extra-large serving of coffee with condensed milk (cut with regular milk) for early Monday morning drive, which I nursed for a couple of mornings' worth of writing.

While I look with interest at wagons, vans, hatchbacks, and trucks with shells (I notice them a lot more nowadays), I'm pretty happy with my little car. I make it work.

Writing desk.

Headlamps are wonderful.

That day, we headed down to Central Gorge, which has a longer, somewhat sketchier approach than Upper Gorge, but it was definitely worth it. We added a few minutes to our approach because I worried that my car (converted back into a passenger vehicle) would not be able to make it through this hole-y zone on the way to the parking area:

Down might be okay. Up, not so much.

Obeyed all rules but the last.

Down the gully.

Well-kempt squat toilet.

Stinging nettle looks a little like mint.

Nettle likes being near water.

Owens River.

We started out at Great Wall of China, where I warmed up on Enter the Dragon (5.8), China Doll (5.8), and Child of Light (5.9). Antoine, who is a 5.12 climber, remarked that the 5.8 was too easy for me. I rejoined that I climb better when I warm up well, which is true-- but his comment added to the already-brewing feeling that I wouldn't make the most of the trip if I didn't challenge myself further. 

Antoine had put up Tsing Tao (5.10b). I hadn't planned on trying it, but for lack of a 5.10a nearby, I decided to just go for it. I surprised myself by flashing it. It was the hardest climb I'd tried to lead during the trip so far. Then, we made our shade-following migration to the Pub Wall.  There, I took my first lead-fall on Abitarot (5.10a). That was a good reminder that 1) ratings are more guidelines than rules, and 2) falling is okay. After splashing around in the water, I lead Abitafun (5.9) and finished by top-roping Hardly Wallbanger (5.10c). 

And, then, Antoine top-roped Abitafun barefoot and chalkless.

Shenanigans.

The next day would be a rest day. 

Climbing at Owens River Gorge - Day Two

2 October 2012

Though I first opened my eyes around sunrise on Tuesday morning, I turned over and slept more. When I awoke, Ramsel, Antoine, and Monkey were already awake. Monkey scampered up to my car door and I opened it, still tucked into my sleeping bag. I felt immediately happy just being outdoors.

I apologized to the boys for sleeping in, and they said they figured I needed it. It must have been eight thirty already, which to me is late by camping standards. Which means I slept around 12 hours, because they told me they got back from Bishop at around 8:30PM and I was already asleep. There's something kind of wonderful about that.

After  breakfast, we set off for another go at Upper Gorge. While ORG is known as a sport climbing paradise, there are lots and lots of opportunities to plug traditional protection, and Ramsel had just that in mind for his day.

Racking up.

We started at the Dihedrals, where there would be morning shade and cracks to climb. I warmed up on Gangsta Lean (5.8), a long, fun route. 

I got sweaty between the first and second bolt.

The route traverses left. Love the long routes at ORG.

While Antoine went off with our new friend Trevor for his warm up,  Delicate Mechanism (5.10b), Ramsel showed me how to make tape gloves for my first crack climb.

My first tape gloves.

He lead Not Proud Enough To Name (5.8) and Pumping the Slots (5.9). I found that I really enjoy cramming my hands and feet into cracks and using torque to make upward progress. After the two crack climbs, Ramsel flashed Delicate Mechanism. I top-roped the route to clean it and had a tough time negotiating the slab and removing the quickdraw under the roof. I was much more interested in crack climbing, so I cleaned Trevor's lead of Life During Wartime (5.10a). I had a lot of fun pulling nuts and cams out of the wall while finding good hand and foot jams.

Riparian vegetation. 

I wrote in my notebook that I lead a 5.10a sport climb that day. I had to rack my brain to remember that I climbed something Antoine put up-- a route with a bouldery start that wasn't in the latest guidebook and isn't on Mountain Project. It's a southwest-facing climb around the corner from Delicate Mechanism and to the left of Mildew Encrusted Shower Stall.  Perhaps I blocked it out because I fell at the start probably half a dozen times, even when I stood on a rock for assitance. I finally traversed in from the left because I just wanted to hurry up and climb it because I said I'd clean it. I was frustrated with it and then annoyed with myself for feeling frustrated. The rest of the route went fine, thankfully, but my sport climbing confidence was shaken.

I didn't take many photos that day, but I did get one of this cute caterpillar:

Tenacious.

There were a few of these funny, fuzzy little things crawling up the vertical face of the wall, and every so often I'd see one float down to the ground, lay stunned for a second, then start crawling right back toward the face again.

A few months prior, I had been quite comfortable trying 5.10a/b/c routes. Now I found I was letting myself be intimidated by my unfamiliarity with the area. I was spending more time afraid that I had regressed than seeing how much I might improve. Why not challenge myself at least a little more? Be more like the caterpillars. Besides, unlike them, I had the advantage of a rope and a belayer if I fell.

The climbing day was done after Ramsel and Antoine fought their way up Mildew Encrusted Shower Stall (5.10c). While I had enjoyed my introduction to crack climbing, I didn't feel ready to tackle an overhanging offwidth crack like that.

We hiked back up and had a mellow night around the fire. As per usual, one beer was enough for me. I slept early and heavily that night.

*Just realized the Glossary of climbing terms on Wikipedia may be helpful.

Climbing at Owens River Gorge - Day One

Last Monday, I left for my first longer-than-a-weekend climbing trip: I planned to spend October 1-5 at Owens River Gorge, a sport climber's paradise tucked between the Sierra Nevada and White Mountains. 

Thar she blows. So much climbing in the area!

1 October 2012

I left Daly City at around 4 AM to pick up Monkey the crag pup. The trip organizer, Ramsel, wanted to spend some time in Yosemite before heading over to ORG, and since dogs are not allowed in the Park, he had to leave his pup with a friend. I agreed to pick up Monkey and reunite him with Ramsel in exchange for half a tank of gas. I picked Monkey up from Ramsel's bleary-eyed friend at 4:30AM. He hopped in the car enthusiastically. We stopped for gas and to let Monkey do some business about an hour later somewhere along 580, in either Dublin or Pleasanton. He was great company.

Those eyes.

Dawn as I entered Stanislaus National Forest.

I met Ramsel and Antoine at Crane Flat Gas Station at 8:15AM, and we continued together east on Tioga Road (aka, S.R. 120). We stopped at Olmsted Point, one of the many viewpoints of Yosemite Valley and Half Dome.

Olmsted Point.

Worth taking the .2 mile "hike" from the road to see this.

The drive to Highway 395 was beautiful. Antoine was keen to stop at the Whoa Nellie Deli near Lee Vining for breakfast and coffee. While he chowed down on a huge everything-omelet, I enjoyed my own little snack:

Contact lens cases have many uses.

So proud of my perfectly hard-cooked egg, though the picture's blurry.

After snacktime, it was off to the Gorge and our first day of climbing. The drive along 395 past Mono Basin was beautiful, with mountains on each side and clear blue skies. We turned off at Paradise/ Swall Meadows and drove onto Los Angeles land--the Los Angeles Department of Water & Power owns the land the Owens River Gorge is on. A huge aqueduct runs along the Gorge, taking water from the Owens Valley to LA. (There's a long history between Inyo County and Los Angeles about land and water rights.)

We wound our way up well-maintained roads to the Upper Gorge climbing area. While the directions I had were good, and I had a map, it's always nice to follow someone when I'm driving to a new climbing area, especially one that's a bit remote (read: has poor coverage by T-Mobile).

There's something about that first glance at a highly-concentrated climbing area. "Kid in a candy store," "overwhelmed," and "awe" come to mind. I felt this way when I first saw New Jack City last year, and ORG has two or three times as many routes. And here, there's water.

Arrival at Owens River Gorge, Upper Gorge area.

Volcanic Tableland.

Fantastic basalt formations. This is Gotham City.

The fun begins with the 2nd/3rd class approach to Upper Gorge.

Since migrating to the Bay Area, I haven't done any sport climbing. I eased in by leading Crotalulsley Challenged (5.6) and Step Right Up (5.8) and top-roping Carnubiator (5.10a).

Took a few tries to figure out my footwork for this section of Carnubiator.

We had a relatively short first day in Upper Gorge and went to find ourselves a campsite in the Pinyons Campground. Couldn't have left soon enough for Monkey.

Made himself comfortable at the sandy base of the wall.

I was so exhausted hiking back up to the parking area that I feared the weight of my gear would tip me over and send me tumbling back down the gully. I also made the mistake of using a heavy 65 liter pack, thinking that I'd need the hip support on a long hike. The weight and girth of the pack itself actually made things worse. I made a mental note to switch back to cramming everything into my 34-liter day pack for the next day despite the lack of a hip belt.

The road to the campground was a bit rocky at some points, but my little car managed to negotiate it all quite well. I planned to sleep in my car-- the backseat folds down, and since I'm pretty compact myself, there's exactly enough room for me to stretch my legs into the trunk and lay with a view through my rear window. I parked so that this was more or less what I saw upon waking each morning:

My "bedroom" window.

After Ramsel and Antoine set up their tents, they headed into Bishop to pick up vital supplies (water... and beer). I could not imagine spending any more time sitting in a moving vehicle, so I stayed at the campsite to make dinner and relax from the long day.

For cooking, I used a butane stove like the one A'misa mentions on her blog. My family uses these often for Khmer-style hot-pot. (I hope to make a DIY rocket stove for cooking on my next trip, since dry twigs were so plentiful.) I had to build a small fire to keep the flies away during my dinner. My very, very satisfying dinner:

So glad Di introduced me to these noodles on that long-ago Joshua Tree trip.

I have never before poached an egg in my noodles as perfectly as this, and it may never happen again:

Ohhh, yes.

It was quiet, not very windy, and I was alone, except for Monkey, who retired to Ramsel's tent soon after it became clear I wasn't sharing my meal with him.

Sunset colors.

I stayed up until just after the moonrise. The moon was so bright, it startled me. It cast long shadows. I hardly needed my headlamp.

My camera couldn't catch the gorgeous moonrise, unfortunately.

I've thought about spending a week or two in solitude, probably on BLM land, probably near a climbing area, and I got a small taste of what it might be like that night. While I wasn't scared, I also wasn't entirely at ease. There probably was no one within a one- or two- mile vicinity, and I had no phone service at all. That kind of solitude is rare and unfamiliar. I wondered how I'd feel if I didn't have two campmates returning soon. I went to sleep thinking about this and hoping to be refreshed for the a full day of climbing.