Recently, I sent my hardest climb ever outdoors at 5.12b. This might sound surprising since I’ve also recently soloed 5.11c/d, and those numbers are really close together!
I have a very odd relationship with hard climbing, and we truly haven’t always gotten along. I once was completely obsessed with hard routes, chasing the next number and progressively seeking out harder and harder climbs to test myself and project them into submission. Unlike most sport-climbers, I never was stoked on bouldering, which always served my quirky side (which is pretty large side of my personality). Years ago, I was determined to skip from 5.11 to 5.13. I had trained hard with campus boards and finger boarding and was sending hard enough climbs in the gym that this didn’t seem utterly preposterous. The guys who were my peers on a rope would regularly boast about sending a V8 outside, or doing several v7’s in a training session, and even crushing V10 at Hueco. Me? I did a V5…. this one time.. I think… it was pretty much a fluke… A good bean burrito may have helped with the rocket-power I needed to “float” the crux…
But I was definitely climbing hard grades on a rope.
This eventually led me to climbing in comps and generally performing absolutely, incredibly, poorly. Despite demonstrating dogged delusions of grandeur, I never made the podium at a single event, and rarely even managed to turn in a full score-card! It was bloody demoralizing. This awful bitter taste of raw competitiveness and the stress of being required to send things wasn’t enjoyable to me, and this led me to complete burnout for a while.
Some gals (and guys) are strong, and they generally run around the boulder pit crushing my projects as warmups. While I might not be as strong as some, I hold on like a complete bastard! Endurance is my thing, and it works out great because that just allows me to do my favorite thing: More climbing. But that doesn’t work out so well in a comp setting when many of the routes have cruxes that specifically test inhuman crush-power. Having my weakness so thoroughly exploited made me decide that I hated hard climbing, and I almost resigned myself to climbing easy for eternity.
At that point, I stopped redpointing outdoors, and got bored with climbs I couldn’t onsight. Somehow, that didn’t stop me from accidentally sending two 12a’s a few years back. Failing to onsight them had me far more bummed out than I had any right to be. I mean, those are the hardest climbs I had redpointed until this past 4th of July weekend and that’s kinda crazy! My hardest redpoint was a climb that I had intended to onsight. I went on to fall off the onsight attempt on a few more 12a’s at the Red a year ago, one-falling them and such, and haven’t ventured much out of 5.11 since then, because I’ve been living in a blur of onsight climbing, visiting different crags each weekend. There’s just too much rock to enjoy!
I LOVE the onsight, in part because it’s so unrelentingly difficult and absolutely intolerant of mistakes. It’s high stakes because you drive miles and hours on end, pumping and thumping the engine, swerving corners at relativistic velocity as you pilot your vehicle through mountain roads and dirt tracks (or maybe that’s just me?). Then you stride through a gentle approach… or don’t.. You trudge grudgingly up some forlorn pile of scree dropped straight from Warren Harding’s worst nightmares, get lost, wander around, mistakenly find the summit of your cliff, cuss yourself, cuss the rock, almost cuss your adventure partners, ACTUALLY cuss your adventure partners, then finally you make it to the rock intact and rested… or not. And then it’s go-time, and you don’t want to disappoint the climbing partner that you dragged along for the ride. You go through those little familiar rituals like tying the rope, smelling the rock, checking the belay devices, doing the hokey-pokey football home-run dance, and you’re off.
And that’s it. It’s full on now, you haven’t but the vaguest notion of what is ahead of you, there’s a crimp! it sucks, check the side-pull, that’s worse, pocket undercling? RUN WITH IT! Bam you’re at the jug, way above your last gear, or maybe there’s a bolt at face-height. Regardless, things look grim, you contemplate life… and you’re off again.
It’s this constant push and pull where you’re uncertain about moving
forward and afraid to go back in defeat. Moving forward and getting every bit as tested as a red point because you’re taking in information about all these holds and the geometry of the rock, thinking about fall potential, considering body positions and rapidly spinning it into an action plan on the fly, it feel’s like doing calculus during a gymnastics routine and you have to go with it. If you say “take” it’s over, you’ve lost the onsight. You make a plan and you’re stuck, committed, backing out takes too much effort so you push on even if it’s the dumbest move you’ve ever made, and you come out the other side triumphant. Or don’t. And then you’re on to the next one. In some ways the onsight attempt is a neat little metaphor for life. You don’t know what’s around the corner, you have to take it all in a rush, push on when you’re not sure, commit to a course of action and be ready to accept the outcome of your efforts no matter how the cookie crumbles.
And that’s the thing, lately, when I “fail” on an onsight, oftentimes I’d fall laughing. And that probably should have been my first sign that my psyche was ready to climb hard again, but I kept shirking away from difficulty until I was at Foster Falls and we’d committed a day at the end of the trip to projects, which meant I had to find one…
So, naturally, I tried to escape by finding another potential onsight, and took a glorious 20’ whipper near the last bolt for “Bottled Up Warrior” (5.12a/b). Now I was out of options and it all finally clicked. You’ve all heard it before (#lastdaybestday), third day of climbing in a row, last day of the trip, hot and humid weather, third hard route of the day, tired as hell with raw fingers, I’m not feeling this so… HOLY CRAP I SENT IT!!!! Wait, if I just sent that on a day like this…. I wonder how hard I could send if I really tried?
My hardest redpoint is 5.12b, my hardest free solo was 5.11d, my hardest onsight was 5.11c, and my hardest multi-pitch is a climb that I onsight soloed on a day that I felt like crap. A few months ago, I asked someone stronger than me for training advice, and after a quick verbal assessment of my training he said “it sounds like you’re not trying hard enough,” which shook me up a bit because I thought I was trying hard already. Little did I know how right he was. Now free-soloing has almost caught up to my maximum roped grade, it’s time to warrior up and start trying hard!
I still don’t intend to spend multiple trips projecting anything over weeks and months, but I’m definitely on the lookout for difficult climbing. As my solo grades inch higher and higher, I’ll increasingly need the experience of hard climbs to expand my comfort zone enough to keep it sane on my mojo-missions.
Looks like I’m back in the saddle again, and it’s time to climb hard! (now I just need some time off from work!)