I took my new shoes out for
a spin yesterday at Middle Earth-- a nice crag about fifteen miles up the Mt. Lemmon highway nestled in amongst the pine trees. Its just one of a long list of crags with hobbit-inspired names found on Mount Lemmon i.e. Middle Earth, Weathertop,Rivendale, Aduriel Tower and so on ad nauseam... But a pretty sweet place to climb nonetheless. Most of the routes start out with a long, slightly-less-than-vertical slab at the bottom of the climb transitioning into steeper, more featured rock after the first twenty feet or so.
Something about those slabs gets inside my head whenever I climb at Middle Earth. Something about those slabs makes me very uncomfortable. They make me breathe heavy and my palms sweat. Slab climbing is, as Fitz Cahall puts it in a recent Climbing article featuring nearby Cochise Stronghold, "a cold science of patient movement, emotional detachment, and friction." That's a rather tall order for somebody impetuous, prone to hysterics, and highly viscous like myself. I prefer the steep, the dynamic, the un-subtle climbs. On those climbs I feel in control even if I'm flailing away, falling, and hanging on the rope for hours. On slabs I find myself filled with a creeping un-ease stemming from the two things that I know for certain about slab climbing: 1) friction is a fickle bitch and 2) because of the low angle of most of the slabs at Middle Earth any slip will more than likely result in a cheese-grater-style, chest-to-granite high-friction body-slide down the cliff culminating in the melting off of both of my nipples.
Nonetheless, I give Middle Earth high marks as a crag-- the pines keep things mostly shady for most of the day, and the routes are high quality even if they frighten my nipples. My new shoes, a swank new pair of La Sportiva Mantis', performed well even though I was worried they might pick up on some lingering vibrations of resentment that I was feeling about having to drop another eighty dollars just three months after I bought my last new pair of climbing shoes. I didn't want them to feel like the red-headed step-children of my climbing kit, so I left the old, yellow Scarpas at home (with blown-out toes) and did everything I could to make the new guys feel comfortable and accepted.
I'm not the only climber, by any means, to anthropomorphize his gear. A trad-climber I used to know would pull his entire rack of cams, nuts, and slings into bed with him on cold nights to spoon with him so that the cold wouldn't exacerbate microscopic cracks in the 'biners and so the cams wouldn't "feel too lonely out there." Before descending I make it a point to kiss the anchors or every route that I climb. Reinforcing your gear's sense of self-worth is an excellent investment of time and energy for the serious climber as an unappreciated carabiner, or sling, or climbing boot is apt to turn mutinous just when you need them the most.
Still, climbing shoes are expensive and I seem to blow through them faster than anyone I know. Whatever deity drew up my blueprints must have had a ballerina in mind. Judging from the ragged holes right on the very tips of the toes of ever pair of climbing shoes I've ever owned, no part of my foot ever makes contact with the rock except for the bulbous little pads of my first two toes. Nary a scratch in the rubber will you find of the heel, side, or arch of my old climbing shoes. I must have reinforced aircraft aluminum for Achilles heels and I must prance around rather constantly on the dainty little tips of my toes...
All the climbers that I told about my shoe woes took a light view of my predicament. The common wisdom seems to be that the fact the my 100$ shoes wear out in less than a quarter of a year is sign that I've been "climbing enough." A phrase that, when translated into realspeak, seems to mean "once to twice a week for almost three months." I should take up a collection.
But most cynicism aside this latest shoe purchase coupled with Joe's last few nostalgic posts got me thinking about my year climbing in the Old Pueblo. After three years of living in China and averaging only about six climbing days per year the sheer enormity of the amount of climbing in Tucson has flabbergasted me. I estimate, quite roughly, that I have climbed between ninety-five and one-hundred days in the past year-- averaging around two days per week. Not bad, I'd say, by anything but sponsored-climber stats, and I expect the sponsorships to come flooding in any minute-- just as soon as this blog hits the big time.
The conditions were ripe here in the Presidio for me to go on a climbing bender after three-years of good behavior in Asia. Most of it I owe to Dustin and Joe for being the perfect enablers. They are as hopelessly and irreversibly addicted to climbing the hell out of everything in sight as I am and, to make things worse, they share with me a genial disregard for tending to life's other "priorities" when one could go climbing instead. Obsession, passion, madness, and opportunity have all conspired here to make Tucson, in my humble opinion, one of the most underrated climbing towns in all of North America. In one year of climbing--roughly one hundred days --we three have each climbed at least two hundred (a very conservative estimate, I think) distinct routes and or boulder problems in the area and there are at least... how many? Five Hundred? One thousand? Fifteen Hundred!?!? More routes and problems that we haven't even heard about!
Ay! Dios Mio!
Here are my faves, sticking only to routes that I have red- 0r mostly-red-pointed, not including boulder problems which is another post in and of itself--
5.8-- Valentine's Arete-- One of the finest 5.8's I've climbed anywhere and the defining feature of La Milagrosa Canyon's main wall. Epic, awesome, and a must-do.
5.9-- The Dragon's Back-- Super-awesome green-lichen climbing at Jailhouse Rock. Mas Que Humano also loves this route.
5.10-- Community Service-- The Milagrosa Main Wall staple warm-up. Somebody who climbs in red pants solos this route with aplomb.
Two Birds Too Stoned-- A sunny climb at the Steep way up at the top of Mount Lemmon. First introduced to me by Dr. Reamer last summer. Everything a bomb-ass 5.10 should be including, but not limited to: fun, steep, sketchy, awesome, sunny, long, exposed, and magnificent.
Batteries Not Included-- Super-sweet but scary moves down low over ankle-busting boulders lead up to an awesome jug-haul past a small roof. This routes has good exposure.
5.11-- Arizona Flyways-- My nemesis-- still going for the redpoint--starts on a dead tree and climbs the south face of Anduriel Tower. Exceptionally pumpy and photogenic. The sheer, aching beauty of this route in the dying sun will stomp mudholes in even the most callous of hearts.
Crime and Punishment-- Starts with a dyno and never lets up. I always blow this one at bolt number five-- great fall.
Hippo Space Invaders-- The climb that spawned the photo that spawned the blog. Another one (along with the two previous routes) that I have climbed with one fall. This climb goes up an amazing arete. Belayers should beware-- if your climber falls between bolts one and two and if you're standing at the base of the tower prepare to get kicked in the chest.
Stealin'-- Another La Milagrosa crimp-fest miracle. This climb really brings out the Space Tiger in me.
This list is far from complete-- its really more of a survey of the sweetest climbs that I've climbed in the past year and is constantly up for reevaluation. Soon, I may try to add a list of boulder problems and/or projects for the coming year, but the hardest part of either of those lists will be deciding where to start.
More new video soon....
-C-
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