Bitchin Rocks n Waves: April 2014

It's been a while since I've posted. As a few of you know, I had a nasty climbing crash a couple weeks ago. Don't worry, I came out alright. I'm incredibly fortunate the consequences weren't worse. I wrote the following account the day after the crash. I was freaked out and ashamed. My injuries are healing and I'm slowly coming to terms with what happened. I'm eager to get back on the rock, but I won't rush it. When I wrote the following, the wounds were fresh and my mental state was fragile. I feel like this was as honest an account as I could have written.

Crashing Back to Earth

looking up the gully the day after

I hesitate to write this passage for a few reasons. Mostly, I'm embarrassed that I blew it. I don't want to worry my mother and other loved ones more than I already have. I don't want my friends to think I'm reckless or to be afraid to climb with me. However, I also want to be candid and let everyone know what happened so they can learn from my mistakes.

The last few weeks I've been climbing a LOT in the Grampians and Arapiles. Lots of routes: sportclimbing, tradclimbing and occasionally freesoloing the Bard. I've been feelin fit and solid and confident. Too confident. I climbed through more than a couple sticky situations and escaped injury by simply hanging on (remember The Wraith from the last post?).

Yesterday, I decided to take it easy and cruise some classics with my friend Jane. Almost a rest day I thought. We started up the Bard with a light rack. I wasn't worried about running it out since I'd done the route so many times. We were stuck behind a slow party so I decided to take a variant pitch called Checkmate 17/5.8 a few grades harder but still well under my limit. I stuck in some gear and started running out a cruxy layback. No worries, I got to some jugs and started to think about gear. In the blazing sun my palms started sweating and oozing the sunscreen I'd put on 15 minutes earlier.
Chalk didn't help, my feet were bad and no matter how hard I gripped my hands were sliding off the holds. I had to go; facing a bad fall I ran it out further to a good stance and breathed a sigh of relief. No worries, I escaped like I have been; by not falling off. We cruised the rest of the route and went back to camp; we had an epic lunch followed by a couple beers and hackysacking. Spirits were high.

Jane was keen to get some more climbing done. I was down for a couple more easy routes. We casually made the short stroll to the crag Organ Pipes. I was feeling loose and made the walk with a small cup of wine in hand and no helmet. We picked a classic 2-pitch moderate which I quickly sewed up safely with gear. I placed more than usual b/c I was feeling a slight buzz from the wine. We topped out safely no drama an hour or two later. Too easy mate.

I was feeling tired, but felt like I should take Jane up one more climb since it was her last day in Araps. On our descent we passed by Lemmington 19/10a. Eager to add another worthy onsite to my stupid ticklist, I felt like I had to sack up and hop on it instead of something easier despite feeling a bit drowsy. It had been a couple hours since my 3 drinks at lunchtime so I felt like I should have been dead sober but I felt just a bit wierd. I pushed my doubts out of my mind and focused on the climb which starts just above a very steep gully.

looking down the gully

There was a bolt at the base of the climb for the belayer. Sweet, I tethered Jane to it (with a doublelength dyneema sling); she put me on her ATC; I felt good about her stance. The climb starts by traversing above the belayer to a small ledge above the void created by the gully. After doing our safety checks (knot/harness) I set off an cruised the traverse to the ledge. I opted not to place a piece in the traverse, since the climbing was secure and I wanted to save a cam and was worried about ropedrag or something. I figured a piece that low wasn't going to keep me off the ground anyways; best to just not fall. What happened next is hard to explain. I was stood on the ledge after the traverse, with a hand on the wall not holding anything. I reached with my left hand to grab a piece and just lost my balance. I felt myself go backwards and I couldn't find anything to grab.

I was horrified because I knew I was over the void an that I didn't have any gear in. I was going to hit the ground hard. I spotted the landing and hit it with my feet. I rolled out backwards down the gully. I felt the rope slow my fall a bit on my harness, but then I was falling again and fast, upsidedown, I was screaming terrified. I put my hands out to protect my head. I rolled and bounced up into the air, and then again, then maybe one more time. Best I can describe it was like a snowboarding tumble, where you just keep flipping with your hands out, except I was not over snow. I finally stopped, fetal in the base of the gully 40+ feet below the climb. I was still screaming, terrified that I had broken everything in my body. But somehow I hadn't. I stopped screaming and started groaning. I wiggled my toes and fingers. I hurt, but I was fine.. ish. I was about to get up and walk it off when some fellow climbers (rescue trained; one was a doctor) came to help. They implored me not to move and held me down. I wanted to get up and walk it off; I wanted to pretend like it hadn't happened. It was too late for that; better safe than sorry, sometimes you can't feel a broken back. How could somebody fall that far and not break their back?

Thanks to the help of a bunch of awesome climbers and some rad paramedics, I found myself in the hospital some hours later (via ambulance and backboard). Xrays showed no major injuries. My hand is swollen, my ribs hurt on one side. I'm missing a bunch of skin. All things considered 'I'm one lucky bastard'. I've heard that so many times already. It's true. My belayer Jane copped the worse injury I reckon. She slammed into the wall, dislocated her shoulder and got flipped upside down, which is why she wasn't able to arrest my fall. I don't blame her. I should have had a piece in above her.

How many things did I do wrong? So many; soo many things. 1. Gri gri's and helmet's are a good idea. 2. Booze and trad climbing don't go well together. 3. Getting a piece in from the ground/belay is never a bad idea; if you are worried about rope drag you can always have your belayer unclip it once you have more gear in. 4. Most importantly, make sure your head is right before pulling on. Don't let ego get in the way of your intuition. I didn't feel like doing that climb. Begrudgingly I let my ego win; one more 2star 19 for the ticklist. That's totally meaningless but the potential consequences aren't.

I'm sorry for everybody I hurt (mostly Jane), let down or scared in the process. All I can do is promise I've learned a lot in the process. Not everybody get's nine lives, but I certainly feel like I've burned one here. Trying not to roll the dice in the future.

END

Well now that we're are all scared shitless, here are some sweet shots of all the epic rockclimbing we did pre-crash and a couple shots of post crash Araps life.

cruisin around the gramps

Inspector Gadget 24***

Vlad attempting the jump onto Super Mario Bros 25

Epic 24 at The Gallery

Sunset at The Gramps

The damage, healing underway

No climbing = chess (and beer)

What can I say? Bombproof featured orange stone, endless, unique, well-protected gear climbs all a stones throw from a cheap/free campground. Does it get better?

Suffice it to say I've been having a blast here at the Arapiles. I just two weeks ago but it feels like I live here. I love my campsite. I love going climbing whenever I feel like it. Cooking, slacklining n plain chilling the rest of the time.

When I first arrived Sofie and I cruised up the classic grade 12/5.6 4-pitch route called The Bard. Great belay ledges, steep exciting climbing on big bomber features. I soaked up the exposure and enjoyed the views. We were without a nut tool (lost a week or two earlier) so we got a nut stuck. I wandered around camp and asked a friendly climber if I could borrow one. The sunset was beautiful and the time felt right for my first free solo. I did my best to remain calm as I cruised up the first pitch to retrieve the stuck nut. I took deep breaths and kept my feet solid on the wandery and polished slab. I sighed with releif when I reached the ledge and started to work on the nut. The relief was short lived as the nut was pretty stuck and that pretty sunset was getting dimmer. A long 5 minutes later the nut popped free and I stuck it onto the sling I carried over my shoulder. Running low on daylight I down-climbed the pitch which was exciting but I felt really solid.

I remembered an Alex Honnold interview where talked about how when he's soloing he shifts his focus from fear/ego to just climbing really perfectly. Not just well enough not to fall, but as perfectly as he can. I found that when I did this, not only did it calm me down but I felt safer. The next evening I walked back over to the base of The Bard with a mat, stretched out, ate an orange and climbed 300 feet to the top of the Bluffs (one of the tallest formations @ the mount) and enjoyed a beautiful sunset when I reached the top. I descended the semi via ferrata Ali's Decent and arrived back at my mat about 45 minutes from when I started. This was one of the coolest experiences of my life and something totally new to me. The headspace I achieved on this solo has helped me to really feel solid on the rock while leading on gear since then.

After a couple days cruising moderates with Sofie, I was ready to start ramping it up and pushing the grade just a little bit. I set my sights on the exciting but well-protected Tannin (19/5.10a). My goal was to keep it mellow while learning to place small gear on face climbs. I failed... I was a little too psyched and just missed my line. Instead, I found myself on the thin and frightening line to the right called The Wraith (21/5.10d). By the time I had realized what had happened I was through the crux and run-out over small gear. It was getting dark and Sofie was getting nervous. 'Chains... get me to the chains up top was my thought'. I was pumped, but I turned off the fear and just kept climbing, finally I found some good gear and pulled through to the top.

I was sweaty and shaken when I reached the ground. On one hand I was proud of myself for the onsite (which was near my limit), pushing through the fear and for just not falling. On the other I was disappointed... How could I miss my line? It's so obvious, how could I sandbag myself so badly? I took a day off to kinda think reflect on my mistake. Fortunately there are plenty of sweet boulders around camp to stay busy. I returned calmer and more focused the following day and cruised my intended route Tannin.

Since that misstep on The Wraith, I've been as solid as ever. I've onsighted nearly every 21 and under that I've tried. I came really close to an onsite of the sustained and slippery Squeakeasy (22/5.11b in the photos below). After the crux a short runout I was desperately pumped; I sunk in a bomber nut, climbed a bit farther and relaxed on a knee scum. Unfortunately I relaxed a bit too much and the kneebar slipped and I took a long but safe winger. I was gutted to learn that there was a jug just one move farther; I just needed to keep fighting!

The other day a crew of us made the obligatory trip up to Kachoong (21/10d). This is the most photographed route in all of Oz, for good reason. I got caught up taking photos and it was a bit late by the time I hopped on. I was super excited and nervous as I pulled on. Not scared, just nervous. This was 'the route' I came for, I didn't want to blow it. As stepped out onto the exposed wall below the roof I struggled to keep my heart rate down. When I reached the roof, my mind went empty and I got into the zone. I leaned out and stuck a bomber cam into the flake in the roof, then swung out onto the jugs and stuck in another smaller cam farther out the roof. I felt really solid climbing the roof on huge holds with good feet. I reached the lip and cut my feet loose and swung up a heel. I relaxed, chalked up and then finished turning the roof. I was really psyched! The exposure and the climbing really hit the adrenal gland.

Immediately my mind turned to Taste of Honey (22/11b) which is the stout megaclassic in the same area. My strong French buddy Vlad had just given it a go and come close but hung at the crux. I really wanted to fire the thing but the crew was ready to wrap up the day. Sofie was cold and I couldn't find an alternate belayer :(. Fortunately I think I just might get another shot ;). Til then, stay psyched homies!