Angel's Fright on Tahquitz Rock

Oops, it's the end of July. Here is another installment in A june that dreams were made of.

I'd known of the Tahquitz since early in my climbing career when I still lived in Los Angeles, but as a beginning climber with only sport climbing gear and experience, I was intimidated by this classic granite multipitch crag. After having led on gear in Red Rocks, Joshua Tree, Indian Creek, Donner Pass, and even at Owens River Gorge, it felt silly that I had not yet climbed at this "local" crag.

I met Leslie of Dynamite Starfish in Bishop during the Women's Climbing Festival in 2016. In a recent interview, Leslie reminded me that we met for the first time when I walked up alone and crashed her and her friends' bouldering session in the Buttermilks.

We met again at the WCF in Bishop this year (though I didn't have a ticket because my clicking fingers weren't fast enough), and further bonded over Los Angeles, making stuff, and the desire to trad climb. I knew that I would be in Los Angeles for writing workshops, so I contacted Leslie about climbing together in Tahquitz.

We met for a session at Hollywood Boulders, our only indoor-climbing experience together, and she told me she was interested in Angel's Fright, a 400-foot route on the West Face. Not too hard, not too long, good belay ledges. Yes, yes, yes, yes.

While I'm wary of making long drives for day trips, and especially ones with what seem like small objectives in the age of 3,000-foot long free solos, it's all a matter of scale.

In the days before the climb, the carbon-footprint conscious (also: anxious) part of me wondered whether it was silly to drive from Garden Grove to Riverside and then on to the San Jacinto Mountains for just a day trip. Leslie assured me that "daytrips to Tahquitz happen!" And in fact, that is how most climbers do it. So, on a Thursday morning, I woke at 5:30am, made coffee, and got myself on the road.

Getting to the base of Tahquitz climbs requires a 45-minute uphill hike, known in climbing terms as an "approach." I felt prepared to haul our rack and food and water up the hill after my recent years working as a backpacking instructor, but I tend toward the slow-and-steady. Thankfully, Leslie did not rush us.

A party of three got there before we did and so there was a bit of waiting as they got on their way. Leslie linked the first two pitches, which my 70-meter rope did not quite give comfortably. I had to simul-climb about 15 feet off the ground in order to get her to the belay ledge. Others had said that a 70-meter rope could make it; perhaps I just wasn't heavy enough to create the necessary rope stretch?

Racking up at the top of the second pitch. Taken by Leslie.

I had a difficult time sorting out the next pitch; I found myself crawling through spiky, gnarled trees unnecessarily and having to backtrack to get back on-route. Route-reading is one of the main parts of multi-pitch climbing that intimidate me, much more than the exposure or height. I found a shadier belay just 50 feet or so from where I began, so Leslie encouraged me to lead the final section, which included a slabby finger crack that I had a great time on.

It was a long day, with a lot more hiking than climbing, but so things go when starting out with a new skillset (and maybe also when you're in your 30s while doing so).

Summit haikus. Always check out the summit register!

It was amazing to go climbing with someone with whom I had so many shared values and relatable life experiences. I felt particularly grateful for our day together because I had just had a night of feeling, once again, great sadness and frustration from the divide between me and my immigrant parents, between what they wish for me and what I wish for myself.

I was close to canceling on Leslie, but then-- what would the day have held? Just more wallowing in negativity, guilt, frustration. Might as well make the drive, hike in the heat, climb with the sun's glare reflecting off the bright granite, stand on a summit, spend time among the pine trees. Most importantly, if I had stayed home, I would have missed some incredible conversations about all the things.

I drove back to my parents' house incredibly grateful for the experience. Kind of euphoric, actually. Connection is the best drug.

---

Since that day, I've made good on my promise to myself to get out and climb, with recent bouldering trips to Mt. Tamalpais, Castle Peak, and Tuolumne. Looking forward to the weather cooling down and to getting on ropes again.

10 Days at Indian Creek // The scabbiest climbing trip

I had my first visit to Indian Creek, splitter crack climbing paradise, back in April. During those 10 days, I scraped myself up more than during any other climbing trip. I sustained a giant scab on my ankle that took about two months to heal and fall off.

I loved it.

The struggle, the athleticism, the 100+ foot pitches, the campground that felt like a neighborhood by the time I left. I can't wait to get back. I don't know if Creeksgiving is in my future, but next April, perhaps? 

When I got my windows tinted, the "Justice for Oscar Grant" sticker was removed-- accidentally? Somehow my Black & Pink and NOLS Wilderness Medicine stickers remained intact. Odd.  I replaced it with this intersectional Black Lives Matter sticker (designed by Matice Moore) I got at Queer Magic Makers last year. 

Gorgeous crags, gorgeous high desert skies.

 

I questioned the wisdom of having my manual typewriter with me while living out of my car for the summer, but it was worth it to sit and tap with this view. I finished this page right as rain began falling. I'm grateful that afternoon thunderstorms forced me to take rest days, otherwise I would probably have wrecked my body even worse.

Hammocks are wonderful. 

The 10a warm up pitch was not too bad at all. I led it after this couple climbed. 

These two gearing up for Pente (5.11) on Reservoir Wall. I toproped this in an incredibly ugly and painful fashion. I'd like to think that next time it will go better now that I sort of know how to jam. Note to self: probably not a good first-day-at-the-creek climb. 

Gloomy skies, bloomy cacti.

I brought my poetry and pottery with me, and left some copies of my chapbook on the message board with a note looking for climbing partners. I wasn't sure it would work, if anyone would read it, and then one morning Emmanuelle (far left) came up to my campsite and invited me to join her, Cylvie (far right) and Peter (the photo-taker) in their climbing. They were a wonderful crew to hang out with. To my right in the photo is Anh from Denmark, another solo traveler we met at the campground. In their hands are pieces of my pottery that they bought/bartered from me.

I was nervous about sharing my poetry, but I'm so glad I did. And I can't wait 'til the next time I get out to Indian Creek.

Location: Creek Pasture Campground, Indian Creek, Utah
Cost: At the time it was free, but as of September 2016, it's $5/night
Amenities: Pit toilets, fire rings.
Note: Must bring in all water and firewood. No wood collecting!!

From Oakland, CA to Lander, WY

As I neared the end of a six-month position as Admissions Associate at GirlVentures, I wasn't sure what late summer or fall would hold for me. I was on belay staff (mostly in babytown) at Berkeley Ironworks, but I knew that I wanted additional work. 

I'd unexpectedly embarked on a journey as an outdoor educator when I was offered the opportunity to work a short 7th grade girls backpacking course with GV in Point Reyes. I still need to write a post about that. One experience as a trip leader was enough to convince me that whatever I did next, I wanted it to further me along the path to more such work. At the urging of my coworker Grace, I applied for a fellowship with National Outdoor Leadership School. 

Soon after the phone interview, I left for a backpacking trip in Yosemite. I was nervous. Nervous that I wouldn't get the job, nervous that I would. Shortly after my return, I was offered the fellowship. It took me a few days to think it over. 

There are less than 600,000 people in all of Wyoming. Lander, where NOLS is based, is a town of around 7,500. In Oakland alone, there are over 400,000 people, but Bay Area cities all blend together, so the sea of people feels endless until you drive out an hour or two.

Asian Americans. Queer/trans folks. People of color. The Pacific Ocean. The Sierra. My loved ones. My lovely housemates. My favorite coffee roaster(s). I'd be leaving them all behind. Not just venturing a few hours north or south, not just for a few days or a couple of a weeks. For a couple of months.

I decided to do it. Because I've been telling myself for years to Do what you're afraid to do, among other mantras. Maybe it's just a part of my life now to spend three months away from home.

And also, of course, there's the access to climbing. I watched and enjoyed the Lander climbing film Wind and Rattlesnakes immensely when it came out last year. The section of Core about Lander climber BJ Tilden is my favorite of the whole film.

[Edit: I also owe a hat-tip to Jared Spaulding's blog for giving me a glimpse inside the Noble Hotel and the life of a NOLS instructor based in Lander.]

So on September 10th, I packed up my car, bundled Audrey into it with me (she flew down from Portland to accompany me), and we set out on I-80 for the 1,018-mile road trip from Oakland to Lander.

We camped in Winnemucca, Nevada, at a campground I'd found called Water Canyon. We built a fire, drank rye whiskey, and wrote.

In Salt Lake City, we stayed with a friend of a friend I knew from Ironworks, and climbed with a friend of a friend of a friend I knew from climbing outside and Twitter. (The climbing community is so great about travelers.)

And then, it was off to Lander. As we crossed the vast, flat land, I repeatedly exclaimed "I'm going to Wyoming!" There was not a little anxiety in my voice, tempered with excitement. As we hurtled along the freeway with an 80 mph speed limit, the fact of my distance from California got closer and closer to reality. 

@narindaism

The moving-in process would have been much more difficult if I hadn't had Audrey's help with the library of books I brought with me, plus climbing gear, my typewriter, and two months' worth of clothing. It was good to be able to walk around town with a friend. When I dropped her off at Riverton Airport, it really settled in that I was alone in Lander, Wyoming.

And, admittedly, that was something I was sort of looking for. Some distance. Some solitude. Space. Time.

Over the last seven weeks, I've come to deeply appreciate life here. Smaller, less dense, less hectic. Snow-capped mountains unobstructed by buildings. This crisp air. 

@narindasim

"It is better to know one mountain than to climb many."

This is a Native American saying that has popped up in various places in my readings about the outdoors, exploration, and outdoor education. I want to get to know the mountains of California better. There are smaller places there, too, for me to get to know. And I want to get to know more of the United States. There is so much still to learn that the small bit of it I've known up to this point.

For most of my life, I dreamed about visiting countries on other continents and rarely considered traveling to the middle parts of the country that I was born and raised in. Those seemed less for me, and more foreign, than foreign countries. But that's changing. Perhaps this is a part of the continuing process of accepting and owning my Americanness, and wanting to have a fuller conception of what that is, what that means for me.

I'll be in Southern California again in a couple weeks to see family and friends for the holidays. I'm bracing myself for the shift back to traffic and density and cars and billboards. And then it's back to Oakland. Traffic, density, billboards. I haven't even left Lander yet and I'm already considering when I might spend time here again. I feel a pull here that is similar to what I tend to feel in other places, but it has an air of possibility and even practicality around it that other places don't.

But I haven't lived this way in that many different places. Miles to go, yet.

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.

JTreeTweetUp 5 // Dayshots

During my first JTreeTweetUp in 2012, it was below thirty degrees both of the nights I joined the group. Our water froze in our tents. Thankfully, this past JTreeTweetUp had much milder weather (as well as some generous sponsorship from FiveTen and GoalZero). 

Some very belated photos from the trip:

This bee found its way into my friend's can of coconut water... then into her mouth. She spat it out, and after it dried our for a minute, flew away. Lucky bee.

At the top of the Thin Wall formation at Real Hidden Valley.

Cute baby joshua tree. 

Monkey!

Ramsel onsighting White Lightning.

Kelly pulling one of the hard moves on heady The Cornerstone.

Kelly at the top of The Cornerstone after his triumphant (had us all holding our breath) onsight.

Final dawn at Hidden Valley Campground.

Ivy ready to go home.

I did a lot of top-roping this trip, but I lead a couple of climbs on pre-placed gear, and red-pointed Butterfingers, which made me happy enough to finally buy my first cam. Hmm, I wonder whether Metolius would be interested in sponsoring the next JTreeTweetUp... Only 11 months to go!

First Trad Gear Purchase

After my second year attending the JTreeTweetUp in Joshua Tree National Park and third time leading a climb on someone else's gear, I finally decided to purchase my first piece of protection: a Metolius Master Cam #3:

So begins my rack. It would have made more sense to begin with a set of nuts, but I'd like to think having one thin-hands (fingers for most) size cam might make me a more appealing climbing partner. I haven't made it out to the various parks in the Berkeley hills much since joining the belay staff at Ironworks, but as my rack slowly grows, I'll make more of an effort to get out there and practice my placements. 

I've watched plenty of climbing porn but I haven't ventured much into informational videos; I thought the one above was good. No replacement for getting out with an experienced partner, but how else will I distract myself from the pile of job applications I should be submitting.

I found the cost of outdoor pursuits prohibitive until I became passionate about climbing-- while I certainly don't have the means nor inclination to purchase a lot of expensive gear for climbing or camping, I've begun making room in my financial life for things like building a trad rack and getting a decent pack with a good hipbelt.

It's hard making room for non-basic survival expenses (rent, paying off debt, etc.), but I'm trying to maintain an attitude of abundance, knowing that I'm equipped with the skills necessary to manage the balance.

But first, before the gear: must find a regular trad climbing partner based in the Bay Area, preferably East Bay.

Dayshot: Climbing in Donner Pass

My most recent climbing milestone: Leading Composure the Snowshed Wall back in June.  My second trad lead this year. 

Making the last moves to the anchors.

There's probably only so many more times I should climb on other people's gear without having even a nut to offer, so I'm slowly saving up for my own rack. I still need a lot more mentorship/training in building trad anchors, which I really should have learned to do long before leading my first pitch. I'm spoiled. 

Donner Pass was a super fun place to climb. The granite was delicious, and I got a taste of Grouse Slabs bouldering, which only made me yearn for Bishop. There's an itch in my legs to run off to the Eastern Sierra that I'm staving off. I'm working regularly again, paying off various wandertime debts, making rent each month, and putting a little bit away for the next extended wander/climb trip. In the meantime, Oakland is proving to be a good place to sit, stretch, grow. 

"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. 

-----

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.

All I Want is Some Sunshine and a Nice Place to Climb

I just returned from five days in Bishop, when I got to climb at Owens River Gorge, the Happys, and the Buttermilks (trip report-ish thing coming soon). I haven't been very interested in celebrating my birthday these last few years, but the trip was a great way to begin a new year of life. 

Now, I'm back in Oakland, enjoying the gentler sunshine of the East Bay, but missing all the rocks. I live two miles away from a very nice climbing gym, but with long summer days on their way, an empty wallet and a wealth of time, it's hard to think of climbing indoors. Indian Rock, Mortar Rock, and Cragmont Park are just a few miles away, perfect for getting my climbing fix in between the longer trips.

On Pegboard. Photo from Superbeta

When I do go to gyms, Bridges is my favorite for being small and homey and reminding me most of Hangar 18 in Hawthorne... and because they have such a good Groupon deal. ;)

Dispatch from Cambodia, 5 // Olympic Stadium

My aunt speaks wistfully of the days when Olympic Stadium was surrounding by a vast field of grass, and the insides were shining and new, ten years before the Khmer Rouge took over the country. 

Phnom Penh is crowded, dusty, and traffic is chaotic, so it's been hard to muster motivation to explore. I'm not sure whether I would have visited this architectural must-see had I not been searching the internet for rock climbing in Cambodia and heard that a small bouldering wall had been installed here.

It's free to enter on foot, 1000 riel (about 25 cents) to enter with a car or motorbike. 

I spied the bouldering wall right as I walked to the stadium.

People walk or run round and round the field, up and down the stands, and inside.

People play soccer on the pavement outside the field; I suppose the grassy field inside is reserved for official games.

Inside.

Along the upper walkway, various groups hold aerobics/dance sessions in the evening.

The wall gets a good breeze in January.

Trying out the holds.

Sunset atop the Stadium.

Be sure to pick up this carb-tastic sticky-rice/crepe/coconut dessert on your way out.

Veterans Day, Economics, and Climbing

I was curious to find many pieces referring to the military in the current issue of Climbing Magazine-- and then realized that Sunday is Veterans Day. Climbing has a great article called "Invisible Wounds" by Chris Kassar which covers a Colorado-based organization called Veteran Expeditions, or VetEx. (Unfortunately the article is not yet available online.) It states: "At least one million military personnel will return home in the next five years," and "at least one in five of them will suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), yet only 35 percent will seek treatment." VetEx takes veterans on expeditions during which they get to practice some of the survival skills and feel a similar camaraderie to what they had in the military, and they're adamant that "the whole goal has really always been that therapy is a byproduct."

VetEx states on their FAQ page that they:

Don't have a set therapy agenda other than the outdoors. VetEx gets veterans outside into physically challenging, team settings. VetEx is not a wilderness therapy organization. We recognize that in the veteran community, many veterans bristle at the thought of needing healing or needing some alternative activity to begin to sort through the complex feelings of their actions and experiences when they were in uniform. The truth is, and the statistics and our own personal experiences and relationships back it up, veterans are an at risk population, and whether or not you want healing or not, you’ll get a lot out of our trips, simply by spending time with other veterans and challenging yourselves.

Their perspective on healing:

We won’t tell you what you want or what will happen on the trip, that’s your decision to figure out what you want and to create your own experience. What we’ve found, however, is that many of our participants have said that they felt the trip was a ‘healing experience’. This means something different for every participant, which is why we do not have an agenda, other than getting you outside and challenging you in a team setting with other veterans. We hope when you get home, you’ll make whatever positive steps in life make sense for you, and to the best of our ability, we’ll help you take those steps.

Will a second-term Obama Presidency see the United States engaging in fewer military efforts? Unfortunately, that seems unlikely; it seems that warfare is written into the DNA of this country. I think a part of changing that, a part of our evolution as a country, is to change our ideas about growth as a measurement of prosperity. The urge to grow is what sends us around the globe looking for resources to tap in order to feed our behemoth of an economy.

This economy is crazy and poisonous. I am an economist, and I have been fighting against the economy that is taught the way it is being taught and being practiced. I have been fighting it for almost 40 years of my life, because it’s an absurd economy that has nothing to do with real life. - Manfred Max Neef on Democracy Now

The interview I linked to is fantastic. The question is, how? What do we do to change the system we're in, when we can't see any other way? I don't have an answer for that. I have a feeling similar to what my friend Justin Woo describes in this recent post:

Our generation has no workable blueprint for struggle. The oft-imitated, never-replicated 1960s has proven to be an unworkable model – The Iraq War proceeded unabated, and Obama has left many thousands of private contractors in Iraq. The Afghanistan War continues to claim lives, despite rosy predictions to the contrary. ...  

But hey, maybe the lack of blueprint is a strength. You can’t tell us we’re doing it wrong. You can’t tell us that this doesn’t fit pre-existing models – through trial and error, we’ve found that they don’t work. Maybe the key is keeping our moral and intellectual compasses active and engaged. Maybe we just need to keep listening, and trying new things, until we find something that works. And hopefully, we’ll do it before it’s too late.

His post really resonated with me because I've been spending the last few months trying hard to find a way to build a sustainable, peaceful, humane life, and feeling like I keep coming up against a wall of "this is the way the world is." And I keep thinking "but so many people are unhappy, why don't we change it?" I'm still looking for the answer to that. Along the way, I'm climbing as much as I can.

This weekend, I'll be going Joshua Tree National Park for the first time as a climber. I'm attending an event called #JTreeTweetup, co-founded by RockGrrl, whom I met at Malibu Creek State Park earlier this year. I'll meet a bunch of people for the first time, and shortly thereafter we'll trust each other with our lives.

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.