Three Blind Mice

Funny that our last post was from Utah, yet the only thing in the post about Utah was the fact that we got there, and the rest was about our last adventure in Bishop.  Well, that's about to change in this post.  As usual, so much happens in the span of a week that it get a bit difficult to sort it all out and then write about it in a way that won't bore people to death. 

If you've occasionally dropped in on our blog or faithfully followed along, you know that every place we visit has had its adventures and our first week in St. George, Utah has been no exception.  One tale of adventure actually starts with something that has been on my mind since climbing in El Chonta, Taxco, MX.  I did what I thought was years away from accomplishment.  According to the local guidebook, I successfully redpointed (after the first try, any try that completes the route bottom-up with no falls) a 5.13b.  But it wasn't enough that I had redpointed the route, it was important for me to confirm that I had in fact redpointed this difficulty because the number 13 has a special significance for me.  To me, 5.13 was what I considered THE benchmark.  A sign that I was really dedicated, that I trained hard, ate right (mostly), and did all that I could do to reach a grade that I ALONE felt separated the men from the boys.  5.13 represented a grade that mortals not blessed with steel tendons and tons of natural talent, athleticism, or super genes could reach through persistent, unrelenting dedication.  5.14 and higher?  Well, that is reserved for super-beings with all the aformentioned qualities which I do not possess.  So, maybe you can see why it was a big deal for me to make sure that the route was not a "gimme" or "soft" or "generously graded".  But, that started a train of thought that yielded some really interesting results here in St. George.  What's in a grade?

As I payed more attention and turned the question over in my mind in a near-obsessive cycle, I began to list the pros and cons of the climbing grade in my head.  I found that when I completed a route, the grade had the potential to make me feel incredibly good, it improved what I perceived as self worth. It gave me something to quietly brag about, and it gave me a way by which I could judge my progress.  But what about when I searched for a route by the grade?  I found that the grade caused intimidation.  A line that might have looked appealing before I knew the grade, now looked impossible.  Moves looked incredibly difficult and fear of failure set in, causing my perceived self worth to drop.  I kept thinking that this was not right.  Too much focus was being spent on the number instead of the route.  I felt like the natural aesthetics of an appealing line were being diminished after I found out the grade and somehow I was cheapening the challenge.

At home, Marie & I climb mostly at Stoneworks in Beaverton.  One of the many things that makes this gym stand out is that they do not grade their routes or boulder problems.  Everyone there identifies a route by the color of its tape.  "Did you try that purple route on the overhang?" or "How about the camouflage problem over on the tsunami wall?", are things commonly heard in the gym.  One of the reasons for this, according to Matt and Robert, the owners, is because it takes the intimidation factor out of the game and people are more apt to get on stuff that they otherwise might not even want to try if they knew the grade beforehand.  When you fall of a route at Stoneworks, you may feel some disappointment, but it's different.  It's a disappointment laced full of encouragement to try again because to the climber, the route is difficult with no grade attached to it to make you feel bad.  Likewise when you "send", you've succeeded in completing a route or problem and only that, no grade, nothing to pump you up falsely.  You move on to the next challenge.  Also, there's no chance to climb a route or problem simply for the number attached to it.  You get on, and if you like, if it holds your attention, if you're up to the challenge, you continue.  If not, there's a hundred other routes for you to try.  This was what I was after in my outside climbing, and so I chose to try a little experiment.

I knew based on my previous climbing experiences that I could potentially lead routes all the way up to about 5.13 based on the routes I had completed in the past and their corresponding grades.  I had barely glanced at the pages for the 2nd area we were going to climb, which was called Chuckawalla.  I remember seeing a 5.13 in there but nothing higher, and I didn't know which one it was.  That told me that I could potentially do any route I encountered on that wall.  So, I told Marie that today I would just be climbing routes based on their appeal from the ground and that I didn't want her to give me the grades of the routes, whether she or I picked them.  What followed next was one of the most liberating climbing experiences of my life.  I spent all day picking routes based on how cool I thought they looked from the ground, or how interesting another climber made the moves look, or sometimes just following whatever line Marie decided to put up.  I onsighted (ground up, first try, no falls) all 9 routes that I got on.  When I was climbing, I was able to concentrate only on the challenge at hand.  My mind didn't concern itself with identifying the crux because it didn't have a pre-conceived notion of the grade.  When I finished each route, instead of discussing whether the grade was "soft", "sand-bagged" or dead-on, I could only tell you if I thought it was fun, if the holds felt greasy, if it was mentally demanding, or just a fun cruiser.  All of which to me are the most important elements of the game.  Things which, for me, had unknowingly taken a back seat over time, in favor of number-chasing.  I'll be the first to admit that in the last 11 years I've completed a number of routes of varying grades that I didn't enjoy, simply because I felt I should be able to climb that grade, and now in retrospect I feel like I don't want to waste any more time like that.  There's too much fun to be had, and too many beautiful lines and challenges to do, to pass them by in favor of hard numbers.

Juan blindly firing Pilgrimage

On our third day of climbing in St. George, we headed out to Snow Canyon, and Marie decided to try a similar grade-blind climbing day.  This was a special place for her, because it is the first place she ever climbed outside, years ago on a vacation with her family to Bryce Canyon and Zion National Parks.  Tired and extremely irritable from 2 nights of no sleep because of a stupid mouse in our van, I grumblingly opted to rest and belayed Marie under extremely hot conditions among the desert sand dunes at The Doghouse, War Zone, and Aftershock Wall.  With no guidebook and nearly no one else climbing under the blistering sun, Marie ventured up and down routes with no knowledge of their grades, picking routes soley on looks, putting all the draws up herself.  At the first wall her routes were picked based on the visualization of her being able to do the moves.  Of all the routes there she picked 3 and onsighted 2.  When I asked about the decision to skip particular routes, she said she simply didn't feel them or the moves didn't look doable to her.  For all we knew at this point she could have skipped routes that could have been 5.10 as they could have been 5.13?  Then she did one route each on the next two walls again simply because they looked fun.  During the actual climbing, Marie admitted that when a few of the routes started to feel difficult, she just concentrated on the job at hand because she had no way of knowing if those particular moves were the crux or if the crux was still to come.  At the end of her day we found that she had sent an 11b, then 11a, and hung a few times on a 12b.  On the next wall she sent 11a, and the 10a on the final wall.  I've seen Marie get upset before when she couldn't complete routes at grades that she more or less took for granted, case in point, the 60 ft. Woman Traverse V2 at Bishop.  I asked Marie how she felt after falling on the 12b.  Since she didnt know the grade at the time her reaction was neutral.  She just identified that the moves were hard but they had no negative impact on her self-esteem, nor should they have.

Marie on "Living on the Edge", a fun classic at Snow Canyon

Back at Chuckawalla a couple days before, when I had done my last route for a warm-down, I finally asked Marie to reveal the day's mystery routes.  It turned out we had warmed up on 3 fun 10's, then one 12a which if I had fallen on I would not have tried again because I didn't think it was very fun, one 11b, then another 12a, then a 12b, then an 11d, and finally a warm-down on 12a.  All blind, done first try with little or no "beta" (route information) all picked because of visual appeal, aesthetics, and promise of challenge.  In that moment, I believe something had now changed in me as a climber, and while I wouldn't say that I'm ready to walk into any area without a guidebook and get on any ol' line just because it looks cool (you still have to be careful you don't get yourself into a dangerous situation), I do know that I'll be picking my routes with much more consideration for the things that really matter to me, which is having fun, and enjoying a more whole experience.  This more than anything has been the best reminder that grades are subjective, one climber's warm-up will always be another's project.  Things like style, mental, and physical capabilities all play a role in the difficulty of my experience among countless other factors that we all sometimes overlook, and that overall the route itself should be the source of my enjoyment and not so much the grade.
-Juan




So what else has been going on besides the climbing?  Let's see...

On Monday we had a fun rest day.  We probably walked at least 5 miles here and there exploring St. George.  Our first stop was the Chamber of Commerce for some maps and info about showers ($2 as opposed to Bishop's $5!  So we can shower >once a week now, haha) and parks and whatnot.  Then we wandered around and were tempted by signs at a joint called Iceberg bragging "Famous Thick Shakes!" so we split a caramel shake.  It was tasty, but we were taken aback when we realized the large paper cup hid a smaller one inside that contained the milkshake - we'd been cheated!  We soon found ourselves at a nice grassy park full of kids flying kites, old people playing pickleball (a sport I thought only existed in middle school P.E. classes), and families having cookouts.  We laid down in the grass and read, climbed trees, walked on our hands, goofed around, and tried really hard to get invited to some (any) family's BBQ - no such luck :(  On our way out, Juan made the sighting of the century - there were pecans all over the ground!  We looked up to many more on the branches of a few trees, and spent the next half-hour stuffing as many as we could into pockets, purses, and bags.  What an amazing, delicious, free treat!  We have been snacking on them, putting them on our cereal, and are planning on saving some to make pecan pie (Juan's favorite) at my dad's house next month.  When all was said and done, we still had a couple miles to walk up Bluff St. back to the car.  I stuck my thumb out the entire way, to no avail.  When we got back to our camp spot, we enjoyed dinner on our crash-pad couch watching the sun set over the west side of town.

Goofing around in the park

Superman's high-jump

Our - AHEM - nutsack

The main LDS Temple in St. George

 On Tuesday we climbed at Chuckawalla, as Juan described above, and left with high spirits.  I had led, though not without falling, a couple of 5.12s, which it has been my goal to work on, and Juan had a superb day.  Things took a turn for the worse, though, when we found the van was dead.  A kind lady helped us jump-start it, but while it was running in place a few minutes later it died again, and no one else was around.  Luckily for us, my friend Carolyn had hooked us up with AAA before we left in January, so we gave them a call.  Mike from Bracken's Auto Tech came out and gave us another jump, and the same thing happened.  It appeared we had a problem with the alternator.  He offered to tow us back to his shop and have his guys look at it in the morning.  So we rode back there and slept in the parking lot (reminiscent of a time me and my friends Eric & Peter slept outside a Les Schwab on our trip to Joshua Tree years ago...).

Do I hear a violin playing?

But the thing is, we didn't really sleep.  At about 3am, Juan woke me up asking, "What's that noise?!" and I listened, unsure what I was hearing.  Thinking it might be a big moth, I opened the hatch to see if it would fly out, and nothing.  The sounds continued.  Sure it was a mouse, Juan suggested we unload everything there in the parking lot and try to flush it out.  So we did, but even after we'd reloaded everything, the sounds continued.  We decided to let it rest til the next day and attempted to get some sleep.

So the next morning, Bracken's guys determined we needed a new alternator, and an hour and $300 later we had one.  We found a quiet place in town with wi-fi, unloaded our stuff, and set some mousetraps with peanut butter that I'd bought at Rite-Aid.  We impatiently waited all day, only going to shower at the rec center and to check out another small local crag called Green Valley Gap (decided we probably wouldn't climb there).

Peanut butter is awesome - what's wrong with this mouse?

The next day after climbing at Snow Canyon, we went to bed exhausted and tense, having listened to this mouse scratching for two full nights now.  There he was again!  Juan noticed, by flashlight, that he kept making rounds across the front seats and dashboard, pausing at the windows, and avoiding the traps.  So we decided to roll down the driver's side window all the way and see if he'd jump out.  Sure enough, within a few minutes he was perched on the edge of the open window, and "BWAH!!!!!!!" Juan woofed at the little bugger and out he flew!  (and I know how he felt because Juan scares me in this manner about twice a day).

Not our mouse, but a similar one.

So now we are mouse-free and hope to not face any more mice or car issues in the next month because we sure as heck cannot afford either, emotionally or financially.

That's all for now,
Marie