Well, I am supposed to be in Anchorage tonight (5/8); however, I am stuck in some random hotel near Salt Lake City airport. My first flight was delayed so I missed the connecting flight to Anchorage, and won’t arrive there until tomorrow afternoon (5/9).

I really love Alaska and I guess that is why I visit Alaska three summers in a roll. This time I am going to stay for another 34 days. Friends asked me, “Are you going to try Denali again?” Of course I want to; however, not this summer. What I am going to do is also something as exciting if not more exciting than Denali. I am taking the NOLS Alaska Instructor Course, which means if I successfully complete the course, I will be a NOLS instructor. Maybe I will start teaching wilderness courses, but hopefully I can teach technical courses very soon!

That being said, my blog is going to be quiet for a while. (I did put a couple articles in the queue though). Don’t forget me and give me some of your best wishes!

- Little Po

Jason has a dream to climb to the top of Mount Wilson; I don’t blame him. Mount Wilson does have its spell. Looking at Mount Wilson from the parking lot of Old Oak Creek Campground, I bet I am not the only one who wonders how much space is up there – is it a sharp ridge or a wide ledge?

The night before April 5, Jason described his proposed route Sentimental Journey with extra passion, “Ting Ting, we can do this.” The route does not have much information in the guidebook: a photo, and less than a hundred words…”One of Red Rock’s oldest routes and a big step into the unknown…” I read it loudly, my eyebrows were frowning. I was not too sure but I surrendered to Jason’s persuasion. Jason was bold and I was naïve.

I woke up Jason at 5 am in the morning. Jason’s friend Ali instructed us to yell “Mount Wilson” and took a shot. We packed much extra stuff: another rope, all the layers we had got, water and food. The route winds 2000 feet and we were ready to bivy.

The approach was not good karma. Right after we started to scramble, Jason asked me to go ahead because he needed a bathroom break. However, he after all took a different approach than me. At many points, we yelled at each other but never could confirm where each other was. Most of the time, my yells did not even get a response. After climbing up and back down several times attempting to regroup with him and failed, I decided to get to the base on my own. It was not easy because it involved much 5th class climbing with a backpack and some scary down climbs. With caution, I eventually arrived. It took us more than two hours to get to the base and the guidebook estimates one and three quarters.

I looked at the first pitch; it was basically a crack in a corner. It did not look too difficult but when Jason asked me to “take,” I started to doubt my assessment. During the whole climb, which was about 100 feet, Jason asked me to take three times and I also heard some “yeeh-hah” and “yahoo” after he passed some sections. I was shocked and concluded that this climb must be more than just a 5.9.

It was my time to follow up, and the follower carries the pack, and the pack was heavy. I could not even start. After a few tries, I decided to climb an easy section left of the route and swing to the right to clean the gear. After I cleaned the first piece of pros, I still could not climb up the crack from that point. I asked Jason to lower me down and I came back up from the left and traversed to the right to clean the second piece of pros. At this time, I was at a better stance and the climb seemed to become a bit easier.

I climbed up and Jason instructed me enthusiastically that the section I was about to cover required lie-backing. That was it. I could not climb with the backpack. I asked Jason to drop some rope. I re-attached myself to the middle of the rope, tied the backpack to the end and dropped it to the ground. I kept climbing but it was not easy; it was not a 5.9 to me and I had to take a break a couple times. What was even worse was I did not give enough slack to the backpack and it became an issue. I hauled the backpack up and set it straight but a knot I forgot to untie got stuck in the crack down below. I could not move up even though I only got a few feet left.

Jason lowered me down to untangle the rope and originally he wanted me to ascend the rope with his ascender. However, we had spent about three hours in total on this first 100 feet. Jason said, “let’s bail.” I agreed with him with silence. On the way out, my steps were heavy, my heart was sinking, and this was a sentimental journey.

We got back to the campground; it was still early – a little after 4 pm. A girl headed toward us because she read the sign I left a week ago looking for a partner. After Jason asked her about her experience, he actively encouraged us to pair up. I did not engage much in the conversation because my mood was awful. I found an excuse to leave the scene, and on my way driving to town, my tears started to drop non-stop. “I have been here for a week, and I have bailed three routes – rain, injury, and incompetence,” I mumbled, “and I had to take a few rest days.” I was so frustrated because I felt I had got nothing done.

Later that night, I went to a nearby Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf to surf on the Internet. I initiated a dialog with a guy over another table only because I spotted that he had a climbing guidebook. He listened to all my stories or I should say venting patiently and gave me an awakening advice, “You should be comfortable at where you are.” He continued on sharing with me his experience learning from bailing and as well he gave me some route suggestions accommodating my ability and ambition. During the entire chat, I felt that he is a true climber and his advice was pertinent and sincere. My sense matched his identity – at the end, I learned that he is a professional guide working for Chockstone at Smith Rock.

I went back to the campground; Jason and that girl were still chatting. I approached the girl and expressed my late-arriving welcomeness. We decided the next day, we should head to First Creek and do some short routes at Lotta Balls Wall.

Photo: Mount Wilson; Photo Credit: Ben Smith

After resting a couple days after my accident, I figured I could climb again but perhaps should start with something easy. Jason proposed to do the Solar Slab Wall – with a combination of two routes from the base to the top, Beulah’s Book (5.9) and Solar Slab (5.6). This climb offers 1,500 feet of climbing. Given its south-facing nature, it would be a sunny and therefore warm climb.

Beulah’s Book (5.9)? –
(Note: We after all climbed the 5.7 arete variation)

The 5.9 pitch is the second pitch. Since Jason is a stronger climber, I set off to lead the first pitch. Either because we did not start at the right place or I went off route at some point, I climbed almost a rope length to reach a bolt anchor while the first pitch was supposed to be much shorter—130 feet. Looking up, the next pitch above us was an easy climb; I felt sorry that Jason had to settle with a lower grade. Jason jumped on the lead and soon he used all the rope with the intention to link the remaining two pitches to finish the lower tier of Solar Slab Wall. Since that was an easy climb, Jason requested me to simul-climb (for an explanation of simul-climbing, readers can refer to http://www.spadout.com/wiki/index.php/Simul_Climbing). I took myself off from the anchor and shortly after we both were bathing in the sun at the top of the lower tier.

Solar Slab (5.6; with a 5.9 finger crack variation) –

Solar Slab is a 7-pitch climb based on the guidebook. When we arrived at the base of Solar Slab, another party was climbing the first pitch. Jason assured me that he would not fall and asked me whether I would be comfortable simul-climbing again; I nodded so he requested the party for permission to pass them at the first belay anchor.

I started to lead, passed the party, and because of poor communication with Jason at the base, I clipped into the second bolt anchor, and belayed Jason to the spot. Jason was surprised that I stopped because he thought I would have kept climbing until I ran out of gear. However, I thought he wanted me to simul-climb until the second anchor.

He took over the lead and urged me not to forget that this time we were going to simul-climb. I belayed him until I only had a couple feet of rope left, and started to take myself off from the anchor getting ready to climb. I yelled “Jason, climbing!” and soon I heard “Ting Ting, you are on belay.” I did not understand why he abandoned the idea of simul-climbing until I reached a consistent finger crack. The finger crack is a 5.9 variation and to the left it was the original 5.6 route. Jason couldn’t resist the calling from that beautiful finger crack and it was indeed an intriguing and delicate climb. Even though I did not fall on that section, it was definitely a better idea to belay the follower at a 5.9 section.

At that point, we only had 4 pitches left and all of them were easy pitches, so we embraced the idea of simul-climbing again. This time I was the leader and I tried to climb as efficiently as possible, putting protection gear here and there occasionally. Before I almost topped out the sixth pitch of Solar Slab, it started to rain and I started to speed up wanting to finish the climb as soon as possible so we could descend and get layered up.

When I reached the base of the last pitch, the follower of a prior party was just about to climb up. I waited for a while and started to move because of cold. The last pitch started with a 5.4 followed by a 5.5 chimney, I wanted to put some pro at the intersection; however I couldn’t find an appropriate piece because I did not have much gear left. After a couple attempts, I yelled at Jason, “I ran out of gear, I am just gonna free solo this section.” At the top, it stopped raining and the sun came out again. I looked at my watch, it took us only about four hours to finish the climb.

The previous party and we did some 3rd or 4th class travel on the top to find the hike down but we did not have any luck. We therefore decided to rappel down the route, and because they did not bring a second rope, we rappelled down as a party of four. Even though we simul-rappel the whole time, it still took us three hours to get back to the ground. In the process, our rope got stuck once, luckily the party Jason and I passed on our way up helped us to untangle the rope.

I remember that last time when I was in Red Rocks, I planned to do this long route the next time I visit here. I am glad that we pretty much cruised the whole way up, but frankly speaking, if not because of that finger crack, this climb would not have been as enjoyable.

Photo: A night view of Las Vegas
Photo Credit: Ben Smith

After the Red Rock climbing accident, I composed an accident report and sent it to a few of my NOLS instructors. I got some good advice back and would like to share it with my readers here.

By Jared Spaulding (my NOLS Backcountry Rock Climbing Course Instructor)

Some thoughts. 1. It seems like you have put a lot of thought into processing the incident. Good. 2. The write up was very comprehensive, in-depth, and detailed, which is no doubt a result of #1. 3. When I had only read the story (and not yet read the Lessons part) what struck me were the subjective hazards, the new partner, the desire to climb Crimson, and the speaking up when you felt it was neccessary. 4. The objective hazards: the belay position and your “second” rope.

To expound on #1,3,&4

#1 Having had several weeks with you in a technical environment, it does not surprise me that you have processed the incident to this extent. Have you processed it with Jon? I imagine there was no doubt some good conversation and discussion on the way out. Since you have had the time to process the incident, have you been able to talk about it with him? It is good to get his insights as well plus it is useful for his learning. Also, discussing the incident with the ENTIRE team (all four) is a good idea as well (see #4)

#3 The subjective hazards. 5.8 is around your limit. That being said I think you have good judgment. When I climb with new partners in an area that I am comfortable in I often will stay well below my limit. I will climb things I have been on before and know well or things that I know are easy. This allows me a margin of safety in that the first line of protection a climber has is her movement on rock. I realize that you did not fall, however I am putting it out there because you as well were near your limit.

The desire to go up and finish a climb can be a strong aphrodisiac. Up until your partner’s fall, the reasons not to go on seemed to be little: the weather was cold and you were moving slower than planned. You didn’t mention time as a factor so I assume it was still early enough. In the case of crimson chrysalis going slow isn’t too much of an issue because you rap the route. You can turn around when you want to. As for the cold, it is still cold in the shade in Red Rocks in April, so if you have layers, you can deal. This leads me to believe that had the accident not occured you could have continued up, albeit slowly, perhaps finishing the climb (see #4). Once the accident did occur, your desire to climb struck me as unwise, though it can be understandable. It will always be there.

The above leads me to believe that the greatest subjective error that occurred was you not speaking up as often as you should have. This is without a doubt one of the most important things that you can do over your career as a climber, that is, if you want a long one. I would also stress this to be one of the biggest take home points for you. Trust your gut and trust that your partner will either agree, engage in a dialog about the situation, or scorn you. If the latter happens, you probably don’t want to be climbing with this person anyway. The things that you mentioned as things you didn’t speak up about are all very important points. It is your life and well being out there. If you don’t speak up and ask questions or make statements when something doesn’t feel or look right (as you did with him belaying the you off the anchor as a leader–what is with that? I have never heard of belaying the leader off of the anchor–) then no one will. That is judgment. I hope this helps you refine and develop that judgment.

#4 Nice work on wearing helmets. So many don’t at red rocks (or anywhere). You mention that the top of the third pitch (where the incident occurred) was a hanging belay. It can be difficult to get good braced positions at a hanging belay. Due to the nature of hanging belays often when a leader fall is caught one is pulled up and in. Unless you put an upward directional BELOW you it can be hard to alleviate that movement. Sometimes this is a possibility. I most often brace myself with my legs spread shoulder width apart, but this is very situationally dependent.

Your ability to descend safely and efficiently is tied directly to the other team you are climbing with (no pun intended) When you climb as a group of four in order to share ropes for a descent, you stay together. Had adam not been directly below you you would have had a much harder time getting down. You were lucky to have another group right behind, and a group who could lend you a rope. When you both need the ropes, both teams need to stay in sight of each other, or have walkie talkies or working cell phones. Communication is paramount. You go up as a group of four and you come down as a group of four.

By Ben Krasnow (my NOLS Denali Mountaineering Course Instructor)

However, keep in mind while climbing, that little mistakes add up quickly. It seems to me that you started to notice little things going wrong along the way. This often becomes a precursor for a big mistake or accident, so try to be aware of things adding up……….or not adding up.

If you remember on Denali, I was usually very strict with little mistakes that students made because I didn’t want them to add up to one big one, in such a harsh environment.

Climbing is extremely dangerous. People get seriously injured or die quite frequently. Make sure that your assessments of risk is accurate and that the rewards are worth the risk for you.

I signed up for Red Rock Rendezvous 2008 and headed to Las Vegas on Friday March 28. Since I had a potential climbing partner lined up in Joshua Tree, I decided to give myself about three weeks to stay in the area. If I was not able to hook up with a partner in Red Rocks, I would just head to Joshua Tree after the rendezvous.

03/29/2008 –

Hop Route Direct (5.8)

Early in the morning, when I was just waking up in my tent, my cell rang. Jon, who was also a participant of the rendezvous, asked me whether I wanted to climb in the morning. Since my clinic was not until the afternoon, I sorted out my trad climb gear and headed out with Jon to a route suggested by a local climber, Fran. The route is located in Ice Box Canyon, and it matched its name – when we were not in the sun, it was freezing cold.

To the right of Hop Route Direct is Hop Route. The only difference between these two routes is the first pitch – Hop Route starts with a 5.7, Hop Route Direct a 5.8. I looked at both of them and decided to do the 5.8. Last time when I was in Red Rocks – it was about 3 months ago – I knew that I was capable leading 5.8’s. I wanted to lead as many 5.8’s as possible so that I will become a confident 5.8 leader and work my way up.

I climbed up in a very controlled version – even though I was confident, as a matter of fact, I hadn’t climbed trad for months. It’s always a good idea to ease into it. It was an uneventful lead; I clipped into a bolt anchor and let Jon lead the second pitch; we then rappelled down and headed out.

Chrysler Crack (5.9)

The clinic I signed up for at the rendezvous was called “The Tricks for Off-Width.” I learned some crack climbing techniques last August when I took the NOLS Backcountry Rock Climbing Course. Crack Climbing really intrigued me – the reasons are: 1) cracks are by nature astonishing rock features; 2) when you click with the crack climbing techniques, the climbing becomes surprisingly intuitive and fun; 3) crack climbing is a must if I want to become an all-around climber. Among all sizes and types of cracks, off-width cracks are the most difficult, which means they can give climbers tremendous fun and a great sense of accomplishment.

I missed the bus but luckily I caught the group in the parking lot in the 13-mile scenic loop. Instructor Joe De Luca took the group to this route called Chrysler Crack. I was stunned when I arrived at the site. It was a beautiful beautiful crack and I felt like I was in Indian Creek. The crack starts with a size for a climber to jam his thigh, and it gradually widens up and becomes a squeeze chimney around the top. A thin finger crack leads to the top-rope anchor. There are no features on the face, so climbers must climb the crack – there is no way around it.

Joe started to prepare everybody for the climb. Two concepts I felt the most useful before taking off are: 1) Relax and watch your breathing; 2) There is no way you can “move” in an off-width crack because by nature climbers can only “inch” up. Climbing off-width cracks can be strenuous, and therefore being on top of your breathing rhythm is extremely important. Otherwise one can exhaust oneself easily and huffing and puffing will be their destiny. In an off-width, one has to separate his body parts and move one at a time. The motion of any climber in an off-width will resemble that of an inchworm. So you have to be patient, and don’t think you are too slow. Once you’ve got the momentum going, you can be a happy, fast-moving inchworm.

Everybody started with a “knee bar,” in which a climber puts their knee into the crack and jams with the thigh putting the foot outside the crack against the wall. Knee bar is super secured and is a good rest position. Since the crack is at a right-facing corner, I had to put my left side into the crack. My left leg was doing a knee bar while my left elbow was against one side of the crack and my left palm pushing the other side of the crack with my fingers pointing downward or inward. My right foot was smearing the wall, and my right arm was perpendicular to the crack with my fingers grabbing the the right edge of the crack above my left palm. I started to inch up and my left foot started to do toe-to-heel jam and then my right foot joined the toe-to-heel club momentarily.

The crux for me was when the crack opened up to the point that I couldn’t do a toe-to-heel jam anymore. Joe instructed me that I had to jam my left leg by pushing the right side of my left knee against the right side of the crack and my foot the other side. Meanwhile my left arm should maintain the chicken wing (elbow and palm jam). I tried and the move resulted in a scrape on my left knee, but it worked; it just I had never thought that knees could be potential spots to put on some climbing tape. When the crack became a squeeze chimney, my whole body was inside the crack. I pushed my back against one side and both legs performed knee-to-foot jams and inched up.

Because it took so long for a climber to climb up, we didn’t have a chance to give it a second try. I felt a little disappointed by that because my experience told me that the second time on an off-width is always much smoother than the first time, and practice makes perfect. I looked at the crack and wondered when I would be able to come back because it looked like there was no way to hike up to set up a top-rope anchor. One has to lead up and I know it will take a long while for me to be capable.

03/30/2008 –

Cookie Monster Pitch One (5.6)

I have a history with Cookie Monster. The first time I visited the canyon, one day my partner Heather and I were about to do Cat in the Hat (5.6); however there was a long line so I suggested we do the Cookie Monster (5.7) instead. Heather agreed and we hiked toward the east face of Mescalito from the south face. We found a route which had similar features to Cookie Monster and started to climb. Heather led the first pitch and she did not think that was a 5.6. I looked at the second pitch and the route looked climbable; I started to lead and I didn’t feel it was a 5.7 as the book described. After this we bailed from a chockstone. We looked at the guidebook and we found out we were actually climbing another route called Black Widow Hollow (5.9) – The climbing log of Black Widow Hollow will appear in another blog entry.

I convinced Jon to do Cookie Monster the morning of March 30. When we arrived the base, another party just took off, so we had to wait. After the follower of the party took off, I started to lead and when I almost reached their anchor, it started to rain. I clipped into their pro anchor and yelled at Jon asking him whether he wanted to continue or bail. He wanted to continue; however, it started to pour and I was shivering so I decided to bail. I was lucky that I happened to drag a second rope up and the previous party let me use their anchor so I could bail easily. However my rope got stuck when I tried to pull the ropes down; fortunately the previous party helped me to untangle the ropes on their way down.

I guess the karma of Cookie Monster does not match mine, probably because I don’t have a sweet tooth, but somehow I lost my grudge toward the monster.

03/31/2008 –

Crimson Chrysalis Pitch One ~ Pitch Three (5.8)

I led the first pitch and third pitch. When Jon was leading the fourth, he took a 25-foot leader’s fall and dragged me into the belay anchor and I was injured. We bailed and obtained medical attention. For the complete accident report, please refer to “Climbing Accident Report – March 31, 20008 – Red Rock Canyon.”

Photo Credit: Ted Ullman

The Story –

I met Jon, Patrick, and Jason for the first time at Red Rock Rendezvous 2008. Since both Patrick and I had been wanting eagerly to do one of the classic long routes, Crimson Chrysalis (5.8), we headed to the Cloud Tower where the route resides on the morning of Monday, March 31. Because the route requires two ropes to rappel down, our strategy was to climb in two pairs and meet up at the top to descend together. Before we set off, Jon requested me to pair up with him because we climbed together a little bit beforehand (Hop Route Direct – 5.8, 2 pitches; Cookie Monster Pitch one 5.7) on the weekend, and I agreed.

The approach was a treacherous hike; Jason, Patrick and I arrived at the base about one and half hours after taking off from the parking lot. While Jason and Patrick were getting ready, another party Adam and Chris arrived at the base. We explained to them that we were a party of four, and they agreed to climb after Jon and I. Meanwhile Jon arrived and he looked beaten up from the approach.

Patrick started to lead the first pitch. We wanted to stay close together, so after Jason left the ground for about 20 feet, I started to lead the first pitch and clipped into the first bolt anchor right after Jason started to lead the second pitch. Jon followed the first pitch just fine but a bit slowly; after he arrived at the first belay, he rested for a while and continued up to lead the next pitch. He moved slowly but steadily; when he reached the middle of the climb, he encountered a bulge; he hesitated and started to become nervous. He placed a cam and attempted to climb over the slightly overhanging feature, and fell on that piece of protection gear twice, which resulted in a difficult gear cleanup for me. Finally he realized that he could totally bypass the bulge and climb to the right; he managed to reach the second belay station. Meanwhile I had been shivering because the climb was in the shade at all times and the wind was brutal.

I climbed up to Jon and we couldn’t see either Patrick or Jason in sight. Because I was still cold, I quickly racked myself up getting ready to leave. I spotted that Jon was about to belay me from the anchor and I made him belay me from the harness – one should always belay a leader from his harness. Because I was cold, I rushed myself to lead the third pitch. I felt I did not climb in the best form but I managed to lead it cleanly and clipped into the third belay station, which was also a hanging belay.

Jon had some difficulty following the third pitch and weighted the rope four or five times when he tried to traverse over a crack, which required some lie back and stemming techniques. I started to worry and wonder whether it would be better for me to lead the fourth pitch. Jon arrived at the third belay station, and expressed that he needed some rest and would lead the fourth pitch. I looked up. There was a bolt right above the anchor and another bolt 20 feet after. It seemed that there was no place to put pros between two bolts; if I were the leader, my strategy would be to clip into the first bolt and stem up to the left with the crack right between my legs, and climb as fast as possible to clip into the second bolt.

Jon started to lead the fourth pitch; he climbed to the left and wanted to put a pro between 2 bolts; however he could not find a good place; he stalled there for a while and I suggested him to down climb and rest at a better stance. In the meanwhile I accessed the route again and figured that he could probably climb to the right all the way up to the second bolt. He agreed that the right path looked climbable and traversed to the right from his location. After he climbed up for a while, he wanted to put a pro in. He told me that the rock quality was bad – it was a hollow flake – but he was going to put a nut in anyway.

After he placed the nut and clipped a draw, he was tempted to rest even though he should not have because the placement was far from bomber. However, he weighted the nut because he was too tired. The nut popped out and he dropped for about 25 feet. I got pulled into the anchor by a great force: my forehead impacted the wall first (Luckily, I was wearing a helmet), and my upper front teeth banged on the rock face that I was worried that I might have lost them. My teeth therefore cut my lower lip open deeply. Both of my knees got bruises and I got cuts and scrapes everywhere on my hands and fingers.

Jon yelled “I am alright,” and I couldn’t respond because I was in pain and my blood was dripping everywhere – on my coat, pants, biners, rope…and the rock. I was shivering non-stop because of the cold and trauma. I wanted to climb this route so bad; looking at myself, I told myself “I need to bail.”

I lowered Jon to the next belay anchor. Adam climbed up to me and offered us their second rope so Jon and I could bail. They would climb up to meet Patrick and Jason and descend together. The moment Adam reached my location, my tears started to drop like my blood. I said “I want to finish this route so bad;” “it will still be here,” Adam comforted me and helped me to set up the rappel. Jon and I rappelled down to the ground and hiked all the way to seek medical attention.

Lessons Learned –

After this accident, I gave it much thought. I kept asking myself this question “What could I have done differently to keep this from happening?”

1.Better Partner Assessment

Before I climbed Crimson Chrysalis with Jon, I had climbed with him for three pitches of which I led two (5.7; 5.8) and he led one (5.7). I knew that he was not a fast climber and Crimson Chrysalis was a 9-pitch climb and five of them are rated as sustained 5.8. I should have known that a 9-pitch, 1000-foot climb was too much of commitment for us as a pair. Patrick felt that if we could have split our teams up differently, for example Jason and Jon; Patrick and I, all of us might have made to the top. Jason was the strongest climber in the team and he has climbed the route before, he could have led the whole way if he wanted. I am a 5.8 leader in Red Rocks; however I don’t think I could lead all the pitches. I would say 6 pitches are the maximum I feel comfortable to take.

2.Speak Up If Not Feeling Comfortable or Whenever I Have Something to Say

During the climb, there were several occasions I felt that I wanted to say something, but after all I only spoke up at one occasion – I had Jon belay me as a leader from his harness rather than from the anchor. Other occasions include: a) I wanted to ask him to let me lead the fourth pitch because he was obviously exhausted, and I knew the climb was going to ease up a bit and if I wanted to rest, I could let Jon lead the easier pitches. I didn’t speak up. b) After I assessed the fourth pitch, I knew that there was no place to put pros between the first bolt and the second bolt and I meant to instruct him with my analysis but I didn’t. c) When he expressed he was tired and weighted the nut (a poor protection), I should have asked him to down climb instead, but again I didn’t say anything.

3.Fall Anticipation

I knew that Jon had a good chance to fall not only because he looked tired but he expressed many times that he did not want to fall on top of me during his lead which means he wasn’t comfortable leading. I wonder if I brace myself better whether the situation will be any different. I am not very sure because Jon out-weights me about 40-50 lbs and the fall was a 25-footer. But I think if I put both of my legs against the wall better, I might have hurt less.

4.Helmets Are Mandatory

My forehead was my first body part that impacted the rock face. If I did not wear my helmet, I might have knocked unconscious and let go my brake hand. During Jon’s fall, his head was banged into the rock face too, and his head was protected by his helmet as well.

Conclusion –

I feel that I let the desire of climbing Crimson Chrysalis cloud my judgment. Climbing is a serious undertaking – if there is any single moment I do not feel comfortable, I should act by either speaking up or bailing the route. Safety is the first priority and I should climb conservatively especially when pairing up with a new partner. I learned a lesson the hard way but luckily I did not pay a higher price.

Photo: The route Crimson Chrysalis
Photo Credit: Ted Ullman

Since last September I have been working as a wilderness instructor at Thistledew Camp in northern Minnesota. Before I signed up for this job, I was not aware that their winter could be this brutal; for my last couple courses there, single digit in day time was common and forty and fifty below at night time was not unheard of. Since one of the main elements of the program is a therapeutic process to guide adjudicated youth toward self-recognition and self-confidence, a campfire is always necessary not only for cooking but also to encourage teens to engage in discussion.

Once we reach our campsite, before we set up our tents, we have to gather dead trees and saw them into burnable pieces. Sometimes when a piece is too thick, as an instructor equipped with an axe, I am responsible of splitting it into halves or even quarters. I was raised in Taipei and reside in Philly; even though I never call myself a city girl, splitting wood is certainly not my expertise. I remember I looked at the axe in my hand and the log in front of me, “this can’t be too hard.” I lifted my axe and “boom” the log laid on the ground intact like a sleeping beauty. I do not recall how many tries to get through the first piece. I only remember I got attached to the new challenge and woke up next morning with a sore lower back.

In late August 2007, Andrea Deaton and I were leading an AMC (Appalachian Mountain Club) major excursion in Yosemite National Park. We were hiking and backpacking, nothing technical; however, I couldn’t resist checking out every single granite face we encountered. My long time climbing partner Yaroslav and I had started actively preparing for a Yosemite climbing trip in October and being a rock climber in the States, I know this simple fact-—Yosemite is the place to go.

I bought a rock climbing guidebook featuring climbs in Yosemite Valley and I studied it every night in the tent after each participant finished their dinner and got ready for bed. I remember I asked myself a question repeatedly “How come there aren’t many routes rated 5.7 and below?” I could follow up to 5.9+ or maybe 5.10a but I had a strong desire to lead and leading is a totally different story than following. In Wyoming, I had learned the theory of traditional leading, built many anchors and placed many pros; however, I did not lead even though I mock led two 5.7’s. I needed some real experience to be ready especially mentally; I could not afford carrying any moment of doubt when I stepped in the boundary of Yosemite again in another two months.

I started my quest to do trad-leads (traditional leading) in September. Not only did I want to boost my confidence, but I needed to familiarize with Yaroslav’s style in an outdoor setting. Ever since then I kept a climbing log for all my outdoor climbs, which is a suggestion I took from my instructor Jared Spaulding, and therefore I can monitor my climbing progress or simply indulge in my adventures.

After the strenuous but memorable Denali climb, all my efforts were redirected to fulfill my bottomless appetite. It was a weird feeling: No matter how much I ate, I constantly felt hungry. The only thing that stopped me from reaching for more food was always embarrassment not satisfaction. In about two weeks, my metabolism finally returned normal and I was ready for another NOLS course: a 3-week backcountry rock climbing course.

Before I signed up for the course, I had a long debate with myself. I had some experience climbing real rocks and I had followed some multi-pitch routes. However I never had any systematic or extensive training on this topic. In addition, I wanted to know how to do traditional leading otherwise how could I become an all-around mountaineer? I knew I probably could obtain such knowledge from experienced climbing friends, but nothing beats a structural course—I just couldn’t wait to flip to a new page of my climbing book.

Rock climbing is a necessary endeavor for mountaineering, at least that is what I believe, and that was why I started to rock climb a couple years ago. During the occasions I have spent on rocks, I have gradually discovered the charm of the sport itself; however, to me, there had been something missing. I did not know what the missing component was, but I knew I needed it to extract the buried determination to become a better climber. The Grand climb terminated the long search and provided the last piece of the puzzle.

I arrived at Jackson Wyoming around noon on August 25, 2007, less than a week apart from my last field trip: a ten-day AMC major excursion in Yosemite. The weather was touchingly pleasant, especially when I compared it to the torturing hot and dry Sierra climate. If not because of the skyrocketing real estate market and flooding tourists wandering on the streets, Jackson is almost a paradise.

I walked in the Jackson Hole Mountain Guides (JHMG) office for a gear check. All I had in my backpack was my personal clothes, toiletries, snack food, water, and a headlamp; and this backpack was all I had to carry during the climb. The sleeping gear and climbing gear were waiting for us at 11,000 feet, where the Corbet High Camp lies below the Eastern face of the Grand and the Teepe Glacier. A light backpack!? Breakfasts and dinners would be prepared by the guides!? I felt like I were a nobleperson. “This climb is gonna be easy,” I thought, which was soon proved to not exactly be the case.