May 27th was a perfect day to be aiming for the summit of Middle Sister.

The snow was firm all the way to the summit. Good thing - we hiked in it all day.

At about 9000ft, at a high saddle we put on our crampons and left the packs and skis behind.The conditions and view were both amazing. Anne' loved the steep,
dense snow high on the NW flank.
We spent very little time on the summit. The snow was softening quick, the mountain was trying to melt from beneath our feet, and the corn snow was just waiting to be skiied.

Where is IanOutThere???

I'm getting alot of questions like this lately so...

photos and stories will be up soon, when I have more than, literally 1 minute.

May's itinerary has been huge, with big trips to Zion, the Sierra, Yosemite, Petit's wedding in Shasta, and Bend.

Look for a trip report and photos of climbing Middle Sister soon!

til then

i

Another Spring Season at NAL

And what a great one it was. I should have known when I started off with two amazing weeks at snowy Montecito Sequoia Lodge I was in for a great spring in Southern California. 

In the Sierra during late February we had two groups of fun kids out on program but somehow most of the work has been overshadowed by the blissful weekends in between (isn't that always the case). We did nothing more than play in the snow – adult style. We built snow caves, slacklined in a dug out trench, and then had a paintball war which ended in tromping through deep snow under darkening skies. We made a snow sculpture of the St. Louis Arch and then warmed up with draft Sierras by the fireplace. We used some dead dinosaurs and skied the hell out of Dinosaur Bowl and lapped a trackless powder field under cold, blue skies. I was having so much fun my car getting broken into and towed barely phased me. By the time we drove out of the snow and into the Kern River Valley the only reminder of my misfortune was the many music-less hours of driving.

We took a detour, on the way to Ventura, up the Kern River and found the wildflowers in full bloom. We discovered a new, secret little hot springs called Pyramid that I had driven past many times before. There was a big jump across a cold river to get there. We spent fun days and nights camped along the Kern, singing around the campfire, and enjoying Remington hot spring (one of the finest and most well-built in the region). PC meeting came around in Ventura and we almost forgot to go. Luckily we did though because merry-making and flag football with your best friends is not something to be missed. Turns out.

After the meeting of the season, where you get to see everyone together at least once, it was time to head out into the wilds and enjoy Pinnacles in the spring. Wildflowers, great temps, a few lowly condors, and some bold climbing were on the menu. Days past and there were great small trips that have now become a blur. We made a trip to Yosemite to sneak in some days of granite (beautiful) and then happily took a break from it all while glamping at ElCapitan's luxury campland. I had to cook for 150 people too, but again, I remember mostly the amazing BBQ and beach jam we had at Refugio State Beach post program. The rangers kept reminding us we can only have 8 people in our campsite, little did they know we needed a 15 foot box truck to carry all the beer and burgers for 8 people. After chilling beachside for a week it was back up to Pinnacles for a great small trip where we cooked gourmet food, whipped heavy cream with a slotted spoon, and ate a curry named Vermont (your guess is as good as mine). On the last day of Pinnacles we took the public climbing, for free, as an outreach to the Park Service – there were many characters and it made me happy that I work with children mostly.

The season was nearing the middle by this point and in classic NAL style I had no work but I did have a place to camp and eat for free so I headed there. It was called Natural History training and it was in the Anza-Borrego Desert State Park. On the way I went to the San Diego Zoo with my friend Michelle; her favorite animal was the Muir cat (named in memory of John Muir I guess?), I liked the gorillas. It was great to see my cousins' two new youngsters, Teddy the dog, and my aunt and uncle in SD. Later that week we met Feder in Pacific Beach for 'act like a frat boy' night. Anyways, in Anza we hiked to a cool oasis of palms and a impressive overlook. We learned some things too, from our peers, and my brain got bigger. Of course it may have shrunken' back from all the toxic air I inhaled by exploring the Salton Sea – but I think there was a net gain.

After the sea, and PB, and NHT we took the cube truck on a tour of the Mexican border. No, we did not cross into Mexico with an unmarked box truck, we only toured the fence line that separates us from them or them from us or the fence the Bush built. It was freezing cold in Jacumba when we stopped for Mexican food and watched Super Bad for the second time in a week. I practiced my backing-up on narrow dirt roads with an overloaded truck skills, and we ended up at Walter's Camp last in the evening. The mosquitos had gone to bed and someone had left an old wahing machine tank under the tamarisk for us to build a fire in. Two weeks on the river went by fast (for more stories from the desert lands read the previous entry: The River). 

I remember a big scorpion, an open mike night better than most I've seen at real venues thanks to a bunch of talented seniors from Hollywood, getting up at 3:45am – twice, a windstorm with gusts to 45 MPH, lots of breakfast burritos from Filiberto's, cooking 245 veggie burgers, and plumes of dust a mile long as I navigated the big white box through miles of desert nothingness listening to Tom Petty and dreaming about another breakfast burrito.

It been a good season and as I round it all off once-again glamping on the Santa Barbara coast I am already dreaming about coasting past bighorn on cold ripples below the Hoover Dam. 24 hours of work left until I start back up in Seattle June 1 and I already can't wait to see Nalifornia again.

i

Photos: 1) Wildflowers in Kern River Canyon 2)Shooting stars on the Pinnacles High Peaks trail 3) The southern Sierra from Montecito 4)Muir cat at the SD zoo 4) NAL camp at Pinnacles 5)Colorado River sunset

  G r a n i t e

El Capitan has a way of reaching out over Yosemite Valley and commanding attention. A star in a cast of soaring granite towers and thundering waterfalls El Cap belittles the rest of the magnificent features seen from the valley floor and draws all eyes north and up. Said to be largest continuous wall of granite in the world, certainly in North America, El Capitan holds a special place in the mind's eye of all who have stood in it's shadow. To climbers it is the holy grail, the icing on the cake, the stuff dreams are made of, the light at the end of the tunnel, the end goal, the reason they moved to Yosemite and lived on beans and hid from the rangers for months, the Captain, the shit.

I have never climbed El Cap. I may, I may not. But it's pure existence continues to egg me on as a climber. Every time I visit Yosemite it is a slap in the face saying, “ keep climbing, go travel the world over chasing stone, but I'll be right here – waiting.”

I am in Yosemite in the spring – my favorite time. There are still patches of snow hiding in the shadows. There is road construction everywhere. Curry Village is littered with down trees and the paths are all mud. Tourists still somehow find a way to block the road to rubber-neck from car windows but they disappear in the evenings leaving the valley floor to welcome spring without much fanfare. Camp 4, Yosemite's cheap walk-in campground and home to dirtbag climbers and misanthropes since climbing's conception, is all but deserted. A few brave European couples, some recession struck families trying to save a buck, and some die hard boulderers have staked claims in the first few sites. It is mid-week and rain is forecasted for the weekend – we know we are lucky, for in just a few weeks the spring break hoards will begin pouring in hoping to catch warm weather. 

We are happily camped out under a dark green and awaking forest, amongst boulders still cold to the touch, and burning wood wet and smokey. The sky is clear and melting from deep blue to starry black. Climbing was good today. We, once again, touched the famed Yosemite granite. Polished beautifully by glacial ice and speckling in the late-afternoon equinox sun we were alone on a high buttress overlooking it all. The granite cracks were warmed from the sun but the shadows mixed with the waterfall wind to make it cold to standby belaying. After so many months of climbing comfortable limestone stalactites (Asia) and uncomfortable volcanic edges (Smith) this granite, stark, ominous, and exposed, felt real. Climbing in Yosemite is elemental. Your hands and arms ache from the movement, your mind puts together the pieces to protect the moves, and your body understands the commitment. This granite is what moved the climbing ethos forward and I am once again reminded why and how.

On the third day we wake to drizzle on the tent fly. Within the first hours of the morning the storm is upon us and heavy rain puddles on the hard packed floor of Camp 4.  There will be no climbing today. The weekend welcomes the rain and disheartened faces repack. I am not disheartened though - two days is all I needed to be reminded. I only needed a quick trip between spring showers to remember. Granite is 

Run for the Hills
Chasing Winter Into The Sierra

There is a lot of road between Bend and Grant Grove Visitor Center at the northern terminus of Sequoia National Park. After hours of lodgepole lined south-trending Highway 97 I got my first glimpse of Mount Shasta welcoming me to California. At the town of Weed 97 melts into Interstate 5 and begins a steady drop into the mighty Central Valley. I could name the towns I passed through but it is more fitting for them to remain nameless. The Central Valley, for all its worth as a agricultural hotbed feeding the nation, has little worth for the traveler looking for scenery and wildlands. My favorite thing to do here is drive, fast and efficiently, all the while keeping my eye on the mountainous prize at the end of the mind-numbing concrete dreamland.

At Fresno I stop for gas and beer. I can see the Sierra crest now, lit up orange from the setting sun and hemmed by darkening forests. 180 is the Highway number now and it makes a circuitous easterly line across the oak woodland and up into the rugged Sierra foothills. I am approaching one of the last explored regions of lower 48. The highest peaks in the Sierra, many over 13,000 feet, are out ahead of me, far ahead of the beam of my headlights but magnetic and making themselves known in the dusk.

In the summer tourists from around the world flock here to stand humbly below regal giant Sequoias. They head straight for the General Sherman Tree, maybe see a black bear leap across the road in front of the family SUV, buy a couple “Squeeze Me S'More” T-shirts, and return to the sun-scorched valley below. In the winter, many roads are closed and those open require escorts along the narrow, snow-carved pathways. The tourist crowd is notably different in the winter. We all share the desire to meet the forest under the cover of snow, to slide into the woods rather than plod, and are chasing (whether knowingly or not) the comfortable loneliness that is held in the winter wilds.

In the morning it's another blue sky day in the Southern Sierras. It's the type of winter day that every snow bum greets with mixed emotions. When one is happily stuck for the weekend at 7500 feet at a comfortable and secluded mountain lodge (http://www.montecitosequoia.com) its hard not to grin as the sun begins to warm the firs and soften the snow, yet snow is what we want. Snow is why we bought skis in the first place – melting snow is fun but fresh snow is divine. Each evening I read the weather with contempt as I yearn for the 'storm of the season' to be predicted, yet each morning I happily apply sunscreen and squint at the brightness. Somewhere along the way I mistakenly taught myself I only like skiing powdery, fresh snow. Though, after some careful research (the methodology I will have to explain later) I find that all snow, when placed at an angle, punctuated by mighty old-growth California red fir and Jeffery pine, and ringed by granite domes and spires is pure enjoyment. Always.

• This article first published by On The Go-go

Photos: 1)Alok gains Baldy Ridge 2)Shasta with the camera held out the window at 60MPH 3)The view from home - this week 4) The crew loving the employee built snowcave

Bend, Adventure, and Why Elephants Are Good Painters

It has been just week since I returned from my Asian dream world. Seattle for a day and then snowy Central Oregon has been a welcome slow dose of America to comfort my landing in the western world. I thought I would miss the jungle warmth, the unrefreshing temperature of the sea, or the pleasure of enjoying the evening with shorts and a T-shirt. In short, I thought I may miss the climate.

Turns out its very much the opposite. I am happy to be back in cold and snow, to drive on icy roads, to have powder thrown into my face and down my jacket. I am happy to remember that tired feeling that can only be accomplished on a winter day. Instead I miss my Thai friends and Thai food. I miss the relaxed pace and complete flexibility of being on my own adventure in a place where new experiences are too easy to come by. I miss Thailand, Laos, and China because it was new -always adventure – I like adventure.

But here's the caveat. Bend is far from new, it is essentially old, when it comes to my experiences in adventure here. I have done this or that before, but my lifelong memories have not rendered the activities of the past week null. In fact having life knowledge in this place allows me to better plan my day, it allows me to track down the good snow or know when Smith is gonna be warm enough. I can pick an idea out of the blue and know it'll be a good one or network with old friends that have a finger on the pulse of the place.

Place is the canvas for the adventure but the mission, for me, is far from complete without the right team. This transition back home, which admittedly I was slightly worried for my sanity before my plane touched down, has be smooth and mentally comfortable because although the place is homely it is not stagnant nor deserted. I was fortunate, it seems like a lot of my friends are actually moving to my hometown. Even better (for me) they don't have jobs! So I got two days of resort tele-ripping with Quinn and Adam, a fantastic warm day at Smith with Wally, old-fashioned Valentine's Day sledding with Tyler and friends, and modern sledding (read Ski Doo 800) with the Harveys. Pretty good for a weeks work.

So here's what I've put together. The adventure equation is more complicated than I thought maybe. You pick a canvas (turns out its not the most important part, but don't go buy a cheap one from a back alley) start to mark out (maybe with pencil) what your product will be, and then go to town. The more good people involved hypothetically the prettier it'll be (there is a breaking point in life and analogy). Last time in Thailand I saw an elephant paint a picture of red and black flowers with its trunk. The massive animal did much better than I could have done. And its true two elephants could paint more flowers and usually came out with a nicer painting. Not so true for all the elephants. They couldn't even line up at one painting – they were much too big.

Photos:  1)Squeezed into Josh's beast on the way to Paulina.  2)The Harvey fleet.

Tonsai Remembered

Being back in Bend doesn't mean I'm out of stories to tell about my Asian adventure.  In fact I can't get many images from my trip out of my mind.  Most of them are the days I was saying to my self 'now this is classic Thailand.' I was usually holding  by fingers to a bright orange wall of limestone looking out over the sea and watching the boats coming and going.  

My favorite days were when we were up high and thus getting a light breeze to whip away the stifling jungle heat. Many days were spent climbing and hiking through the vines and eating Thai food with tall Beer Changs to follow. There were many more days looking out into the jungle from the bungalow deck, watching the monkeys throw things, waiting for this or that to 'go into the shade' so we could dare to climb it.  We relaxed in phychadelic bars lit up with colored lights set in bamboo, hammocks hung at every junction.  We ate out for every meal everyday, what else is there to do. The resturanturers became our friends and suggested special dishes upon our arrival. 

We bought beer from 13 year old boys, unlike in the US, its always cheaper to buy from the little guy. I discovered BBQ beef thai salad and mango sticky rice. My bungalow had a tin roof that drummed me awake everyday as the jungle animals, lizards, squirrels, rodents, birds played their own assymetrical rhythm. After climbing we would head for the sandy iddyllic beaches and bounce around in the ocean, washing the sweat from our faces, and watch the sun go down in a smooth firey drip. It was hard to not be merry.

 I almost died trying to slackline from razor rock island to jungly gray island above the sea.  But somehow after we all realized I was indeed not dead, and escaped with meager scratches and a bruised foot, we laughed and laughed. The thought of paradise did not mix with such immediatedly dangerous events - laughing was all our brains could do to put it into perspective. Some of us woke up in the middle of the night and found our stomachs very upset with us - ' felt like I was gonna die,' I overheard. Yet in the morning we were all still smiling and laughing. What else was there to do - expect embrace the fact that 'everyday is exceptional.' Tonsai is so full of so much just try not having fun. Try. I dare you.

Photos: 1) Sunset bathes crags. 2)Climbing natties unite: Andrew, me, Sunshine, Liz

Also: Szu-Ting has more Yangshuo, China climbing stories and beta up at littlepo.com

Sea Kayaking Koh Yao Noi and surrounding islands

Andaman Sea, Thailand

After waiting out strong winds for three days on the magical island of Koh Yao Noi I was able to prepare a sea kayaking trip to explore the karst islands off-shore. Kitty of Koh Kayak rented boats and overnight equipment to us for a truly meager rate and after shopping in the local Thai markets for curry paste, tuna, rice noodles, coconut milk, beer, and vegetables we were able to set off in the afternoon for Koh Hong. What followed, in the next three days and four nights, was some of the most outstanding scenery, fun adventure, and perfect kayaking around a chain of unmatchable islands. The first evening we snorkeled colorful and brilliant coral reefs in secluded bays, then explored a jungle salt water lagoon rimmed by noisy bird calls. We found a deserted beach and camped with views of the wild islands ahead of us.

The next day we found a cove full of tourists and therefore a small Thai bar with beer. It felt amazing to be so alone in the islands and then to come across the only services we needed: a bar. We carried our own food and water but our drink supply was quickly shrinking so we spent the afternoon drinking Thai whiskey and watching the water monitor tease the house cats. We met some Canadians with a sailboat offshore and were welcomed onto their boat for an evening of wine and cheese (a very special commodity in the waters of Thailand). As the sun set we set out for the shore of Pak Bia to light a fire and prepare camp. When we began to pull the kayaks from the sea the water lit up with phosphoresence and instead of cooking dinner we snorkeled into the dark waters playing with the bubbles of light all around us.

In morning the winds had come up and the crossing to Koh Ku Du and the northern tip of Koh Yao Noi looked choppy and far. Unfamiliar with the craft we were a little nervous when we set out into the whitecaps - but this is the Andaman. The water temperature in bathtub, and sun is hot, and the many islands help to limit the fetch and thus the swells. The morning was nonetheless a real sea kayaking experience and we were thankful for the spray skirts and rudders on our well-equipped boats. Another beautiful jungle cove was reached, where just up from the sandy shore a massive old-growth banyan tree was discovered. The water was still warm, or warmer, and the day passed by quickly as we swam and drank rum and Coke by the deep blue sea. We had to launch again to watch the sun set of the western shores of the Phuket Peninsula and then located a deep bay ringed with wild limestone towers. The water in the bay was shallow and therefore limited any sailing or powered boats from entering. It was clearly a home for sea kayaks and we quickly made camp at the edge of a tall cliff face. Monkeys played in the trees above our camp, the tide came up to meet the white sand, stars were out, dinner was Thai-style potatoes and vegetables, we finished the Bicardi. Life was easy, warm, great.

Dispatch - Jan. 19th, 2009
Koh Yao Noi - Andaman Sea, Thailand

Have arrived and explored a slightly populated jungle island perched in the sea. We, the natties, have met up with friends that have put a lot of time and money into developing climbs on the limestone walls - they have been instrumental in arranging boats and transportation to access these remote climbing areas. It has been like living in a dream on this magical island, the climbing has been perfect in quality and position. I am happy to have been climbing routes just a few years old and was so happy yesterday when we spent the day on a terrace above the sea climbing 6c+ - 6a routes. I said many times yesterday that it may be one of my best days climbing... ever.

Today I will depart for a multi-day sea kayaking adventure into the small islands off-the-shore of Koh Yao Noi. I am looking forward to exploring the jungle islands and azure coves in a deserted island park over the next three days. The oppurtunity for exploration and adventure in this region is truly endless. The Thai people and expats living here are more than helpful in arranging everything. I am happily lost in the island vibe. Pictures and stories to come soon...

Dispatch - Tonsai, Thailand, midday Jan. 12th

It is completely hard to believe that a week has gone by since my last dispatch. I was more than surprised to login and subtract today's date from that of my last post. Tonsai has this magical way of eating away at the days of your life without you feeling sad or worried to have lost them. Each day is made up of so many different hours of individual experiences that it becomes a place where your mind no longer registers days of the week or length of stay. Instead, here, I rather focus on and remember climbs, meals, swims, people, beers, slacklines, bungalows, Thai friends, and full moons in a collection of events seperate from the calendar.

The climbing has been fantastic for me. I was excited to come here at the end of my trip with some strength and mind built from the climbing in China and Laos. It has paid off, as I am climbing confidently and strong and routes that would have been out of reach during my last trip here. I have enjoyed many days at crags high above the sea in the breeze with views acrost the karst and emerald water. The limestone here, I remember now, is uncomparably strong, the routes uncomparably thoughtful and beautiful. To top it all off a roving band of natties has amazingly all found their way here and to be it these places with 6 close friends adds to the expectionality of each day.

Life in the limestone jungles continues....

Dispatch - Tonsai Beach, Thailand - January 5th, 2009

I welcomed the New Year tubing and rope swinging on the Nam Song (river) in Laos. We made a quick trip of getting to Tonsai by flying Laos Airlines to Bangkok, and Thai Airways to Krabi. What could have been an arduous bus and train journey was accomplished in a quick day (well worth the money). It felt good to arrive back at Tonsai, a place that was Michelle and I's home for over two months in 2006. Not much has changed except the prices and it felt great to be recognized by a few Thai friends I had met years ago. I am taking a few days to get used to the humidity and heat after getting a little climbing in yesterday. Swimming and beachy hangout time has been fantastic. On the to-be-written list: "The westernized wildside of Vang Vieng" and "Tonsai Time: meeting friends at the other side of the world."
All is well.

More than the daily dose of adventure



The jungle always adds to an adventure. It's something about heat and humidity mixed with thick vegetation and unknown sub-tropical creatures - a combination that turns a simple day of hiking and climbing into a noteworthy mission. Yesterday the goal was a newly developed crag at Pha Tang mountain 25 km north of Vang Vieng, the the central region of Laos PDR. Myriad factors led to this day of motorbiking and climbing being quite different from a day at the local rock gym.

First, and possibly least, is the gact that this region of Laos is ethnically Hmong. Hmong fighters, hold-outs from the Vietnam War, former American allies, and still clinging to the possibilty of autonomy, have been clashing with Laos military police as recently 2005. In 2003 a tourist bus and some German bicyclists were caught in the crossfire. My fears were mediated after careful research (finding no recent reports of incidents) and seeing no signs of armament while travelling this Highway 13 last week from Luang Prubang. None-the-less motorscootering on rough roads through the poorest of villages in a former war-zone breeds apprehension. So after a hour of riding through this picturesque karst countryside I was mometarily relieved when we arrived at a simple quarry that would safely park our bikes (story has it that our gas would be siphoned if left in teh woods).

From along the newly oiled highway we could see the white limestone towers rising from the jungle, but the approach would not be without its own set of stories. We left the road on a bearing towards the towers and immediately entered a lime orchards with an unknown flowering shrub in the understory. There were many branching trails assumingly from the local fruit pickers. We were following directions clearly written by a non-native English speaker and consequently they were immediately useless. The orchard ened at a small streat that we decided to work along following a newly cut trail through tall ferns. Just 100 meters into the jungle, Josie, leading, was blind sided by a spider web complete with a white and black long legged friend. She maintained resaonable composure considering a large and creepy jungle spider dangled inches from her eyes and its web netted her hair. By the time I reached her she was rid of it and we took the accompanying picture of the peculiar aracnid.

The spider trail ended at a fence and we retraced our steps to the stream and crossed it. We then gained a wide shallow river which we waded easily without our shoes. I did not know it at the time but I think this is where I got the leech bite on my foot that later in the day would not stop bleeding. We easily crossed a patchwork of rice paddies and came to the side of a small hut which I think is used in the rainy season for the farmers. Now just a few hundred meters seperated us from the limestone though an unkept orchard retaken by jungle stood in our way - there were faint trails but nothing seemed continuous. I was cautious to leave well-trodden ground as in my research I also learned of the hundreds of thousands of land mines placed unmapped by the Viet Cong. My nervousness was surely over-zealous and unfounded due to my poor understanding of Laos geography and post-war reparations. I was lacking an objective way to understand these risks (as I would, say, of the possibility of an avalanche) and though it was extremely unlikely we were to come across a unexploded ordinance I was mentally tired apon reaching th base of the enormous limestone massif.

The wall stood tall, dusty, and covered with cobwebs. Bamboo leaned into it and created a quintissential jungle atmosphere. Josie, always strong, made short work of one named climb and then quickly located two others that we had no information of. They seemed very new and we cleaned bugs and dirt and loose rock as we climbed. The 5.11 climbing itself was technical and steep and followed an impressive brown dike through the harder gray limetsone. We climbed 30 meter picthes at eth ground - there was clearly another 300 meter of stone above us. I am now reminded that apon reaching this second set of climbs we encountered a very bizzarre bat trap that was essentialy just a fishing net hung up perpendicular to the cliff between two bamboo poles. We had to get very close to the net before understanding what it was, but as we near the three near-death bats wringled in their unfortunate situation and stared at us in something I can only describe as fear. the whole scene was quite unnerving and added to the mental game that we were already playing with the dirty rock before us.

After our fill of jungle rock we worked back through the jungle and across the river. We were very hungry from the day because we got what we thought was sticky rice wrapped in bamboo leaves - turns out we unwrapped pandora's banana leaves to find what was I think about a tablespoon of uncooked pork. To shorten the already lengthy story: we reached the bikes just as it began to drizzle, we were starving , and the mixed clay and concrete road was quickly becoming trenchorous as it wetted. We had no choice to stop for chicken part and rice noodle soup in the first small village and sit with nice Laos people, only pointing and smiling, as the rain past. We returned to Vang Vieng just as the sun was setting into the bright orange of late evening. I had had my daily dose of adventure - and I think maybe a little extra for good measure.

Photos: 1) The sun sets. The view from my bungalow. 2)Crossing the leech stream and heading towards the tower. 3)Bat in net. Quite possibliy the freakiest thing I have ever seen - sorry but just had to give you nightmares too 3)If the bat wasn't enough this is the spider that almost punctured Josie's eyeball.

Dispatch - Christmas -
Vang Vieng, Laos PDR

Last night, after a day of rock climbing and rope swinging, we were invited to a grand Christmas party by a Spanish girl and her friends. It was a white elephant dinner party. We sat at a long table in the garden, I between the tall Spanish girl and the owner of the only Laos-owned climbing guide company here. We talked about how tourism is changing his formerly-small hometown into a mecca for western travellers - he listed the pros and cons and had a very relaxed opinion of the whole thing. Tourism IS the Loas economy yet I have not seen the kind-hearted Laos people turned bitter or jaded my the Western dollar. Adam has made a good business of guiding climbing for foriegn visitors. We toasted to his success and his birthday.

The common language was English, but many side conversations rattled around the table in Dutch, Italian, Spanish, and all collections of English accents. The Laos people and children that joined us wore Santa hats and talked in their gentle language. Each person was served a whole fish on a large plate, fried rice and sticky rice, garlic bread, and Beer Lao accompanied the main course. I met many new friends; as nearly all the European countries were represented around the table. A large British man played Santa Claus and carried a large rice bag to collect our presents for exchange. We rolled dice to see who who pick and exchange first - I got a small handmade doll that is a keychain. We ate and dined like kings - for 18 people our bill was 1 million Lao kip (maybe 120USD). No doubt it was a Chistmas party I will not soon forget.
Happy Holidays to all.

Photo: River side bar and swimming hole, Vang Vieng, Laos.

Dispatch - December 21
Vang Vieng, Laos PDR

The 24 hour sleeper bus ride and the 6 hour minibus ride are behind me now. I will leave that story for another time. Today I found some climbing in a jungle acrost a river. There was a massive rope swing into the river and there was a bar at the shore played Bob Dylan all day. We rode is a tuk-tuk with a drunken driver - but he was kind enough to share his Beer Lao with us after returning us to town. There is an island here that is reached by a rickety bamboo bridge, on the island are many bars and campfires surrounded by routy European tourists. We you get hot you can swim in the river right from your bamboo perched, as long as you don't upset your beer as you jump off. There are endless hourds of western tourists here sitting in resturants watching Friends and snacking on fruit shakes. I happy to have a climbing mission because tubing the river all day and drinking and watching TV all night would truly get old fast. Laos people are very kind and friendly and they don't honk nearly half as much as Chinese drivers. This will be a very nice place to spend New Years and Christmas as every day is a party and you can easily drink and eat too much - which is what I'd do for the holidays back in the states anyways.
hohoho

Photo: Boatman on the Mekong River, Luang Prubang, Loas.

Dispatch: Kunming, China 12/17/2008

We left friendly and beautiful YangShuo on a local bus to Guilin yesterday afternoon and without much trouble have found our way to Kunming. Kunming is in Yunnan province and lays some 1200km west of Guilin. We slept well on the confortable sleeper car and prior we were able to watch the scenery and villages go by until the sun set. The other train riders were interested in us and watch on as we played cards and reviewed our photos. I tried my few Chinese phases and we shard some laughs with our bunkmates. We met a guy who smokes regular cigarettes out of a big bamboo bong between cars and I was kind and unable to turn the rough Chinese tobacco down. Josie beat me at cribbage after that.

At the Kunming train station we easier than expected found a fancy new sleeper bus that was bound for Luang Prubang, Loas. We got our tickets and will depart this evening expecting a slightly arduous 24 hour ride through jungle and canyon. Let the adventure continue....
~i

Rock Climbing in YangShuo, China
Beta for Multi-pitch Routes

When I first arrived in Yangshuo I was prepared for a month of limestone sport climbing. I readied myself for pocket pulling and tufa pinching up steep white and orange walls. Once I began to roam the towers and delve into Yangshuo Rock Climbs I reliezed there may be a slightly more elusive Yangshuo climbing scene. I made a point to climb as many multi-pitch routes up these impressive limtesone towers as I could fit into my trip. What I found was a collection of jungle adventures into beautifully unexecpted places with endless panoramic views of a magical land. There was also no shortness of crumbling rock, unequipped anchors, vine pulling, razor blades, hailing buses in the dark, rockfall, rusty mallions, and an ocassional snake. In otherwords: sweet!

Climbers Beta

(note: vocabulary may be a bit tedious for the non-climber friends and family)

There are a lot of fresh bolts in Yangshuo and thus the climbing is fairly safe (some older routes do have some rusty bolts). Many rappell anchors need to be backed-up or rebuilt. Bring lots of webbing and rap rings. Next time I will bring many rapid-links and chains as most rap anchors could use some permanent equipment (this is also true even for some of the single pitch sport climbs). The rock here is both sharp and loose. Climbing here without a helmet would be foolish. Almost every route can be decended via the ascent line with one 60 meter rope. I found the topos in Paul Collis' book to be well-drawn and consistent. Lastly, it should be noted that the amount of rock here makes the possibility of putting up more routes comparable to these completely unlimited. Hundreds, if not thousands of unnamed, unclimbed, unexplored towers rise from the rice fields and river flats in all directions. Climbers seeking limestone walls of adventure need to look no further.

The Routes

• Thumb Peak - Happy New Year (5.10b,5 pitches)
  This is the first and definently the cleanest multi-pitch line I did here. Climbing in great, bolts are frequent, the top anchor was looking pretty hangered 'til we beefed it up. Bring lots of draws to link the 3rd and 4th pitch.


• The Screaming Mountain Turtle (5.9, 5 pitches)
  There is a new first pitch to this climb that is maybe 10a that goes to right of the original line with bleached out threads. The rest of the pitches are sharp. I almost broke Szu-ting's wrist with rockfall on the first pitch. We used a #2,#1, .5 Camalot to supplement some sections, otherwise there are lots of bolts. There is a hidden bolt on the traverse pitch. The top pitch requires loose climbing above dubious cams. The final rappell (off route) is a sketchy thread at a chalky stance.


• Low Mountain - L Echo des Montagnes (5.8, 5 pitches)
  An alpine style route with little hard climbing. Lots of rope drag if you're not careful. The 50 meter free-rappell is the best part of this climb, second is the very cool river of the river. In the shade for first half of the day and bolts everywhere.


• Low Mountain - Monkey King (5.10c, 5 pitches)
  First pitch is fanastic and clean, link it to the 2nd. The 3rd pitch is soft rock but cool climbing and the 4th is the only bolt protected off-width to squeeze cimney in Yangshuo. Must use every rappell station to get down. Despite being dirty this is a fun route!


• Twin Gate Western Tower - Penthouse Platforms (5.10a, 3 pitches)
  The hardest climbing is right of the ground. Like it says, big belay ledges, and the cool top-out and views make this an enjoyable route.


• Brave New World, East Face - The Witch Woman of the Rock (5.10c, 5 picthes, bolted anchors)
  This is the only true trad climb we did and subsequently the most intense. There are indeed cracks from top to bottom but the rock quality is variable. This was Szu-tings favorite route and for good reason: serious climbing, we got use the gear she brought all the way from the states, amazing exposure, even better views, and the only true hand jams in Yangshuo. This route is recommended for experienced trad climbers as we used cams to #3 and a small set of nuts and many long runners. The anchors are in good shape as they are good bolts equipped with rope loops and rap rings.


• The Egg - The Deviant Direct (5.9, 3 pitches)
  Szu-ting forgot we did this route so it must have not been very good. The 30 meter rappel directly from the top anchor is not eqipped and thus I had to jug back up to the anchor on-route.

Photos: 1)Endless unnamed, unexplored towers along the Li River; between Yangdi and Xing Ping 2)The team at the Egg; Josie, Masa, myself, and Szu-ting

Climbing everyday



Climbing everyday in China is tiring and rewarding. Most days we gather lunch and breakfast supplies as we walk to the bus station. We gather warm soy milk in a bowl, steamed buns with sweet peanut filling, blueberry bread, sticky rice in bamboo leaves, cookies, candy, mandarian oranges and crisp apples. We then head to the crowded local mini-bus station and cram ourselves and our gear into a breadbox mini-bus half the size of an American minivan. We ride with the locals down wide roads honking and passing tractors and bikers and getting passed by large tour buses and taxis; did I mention the honking. After much honking and much shuffling of people in and out of the mini-bus we arrive at a dusty side street and pay our fare - 2.50 yuan or 35cents USD per person. The bus sputters off and we start the short or long walk through villages to a beckoning limestone tower.



The villagers are busy with their daily chores of picking fruit, washing, sweeping, collecting wood, or working on a new part of their cement homes. One time an old lady got off at the same dusty road as us and walk alongside chatting with Szu-ting as we haeded for the crag. She told her she can always pick out the climbers because they carry backpacks and most of them are westerners. She seemed happy that we passed through her village - unaffected by our presence but entertained by our parade. Sometimes when we are slightly lost and tramping around through someone's orange or rice field a farmer will apear out of nowhere - he has a basket of small tart citrusy friut to share and helps us with finding the right trail - usually guiding us all they way 'til we have located the proper path. I can not tell wheather he just wanted us to stop tromping around in his field or if he actually wants to help us find our way. Either way we are rarely lost for long (speaking Chinese helps very much with this).

Once we reach the cliffside we open the newly republished English guidebook (Climbing in YangShuo; Collis Oct. 2008) and begin to pick out routes that we can do. They always look steep and intimidating and if I'm feeling fresh I head out on lead up the rugged, often sharp, holds. If I'm feeling sleepy or slow I talk Szu-ting into starting up; she happily grabs the gear and begins to work through the technical movements that characterize this limestone climbing. The rock is made up of pockets and side-pulls and overhanging holds facing all directions and therefore, regardless of grade, always keep you on your toes (pun, what pun?). The climbing is protected well by numberous and fresh looking bolts and is consequently quite safe - that doesn't mean it doesn't feel intense or scary for the consistent steepness and adventuresome manner of the stone lends itself to some intimating climbing. Every route is fun and every crag we visit is a new adventure.


Rock climbing development in YangShuo continues at a very rapid pace with one team we talked to reporting as many as 30 new climbs bolted since the publication of the October guidebook. This speed supercedes any American climbing area I have known. Route development and climbing exploration in many other parts of China is just beginning and the possibility to establish new routes seems at this moment endless. Yet, for now, we continue to explore routes clearly established by the adventurers that have come before us. Regardless, many routes we have climbed appear to have had only a handful of previous ascents and as we learn through the grapevine of more recent develpoment many routes we approach may have had even fewer previous parties. I envision a time when I will put my name on a newly created route somewhere deep in rural China. Until then I will continue to enjoy the quality offerings, of both culture and stone, at the cliffs of YangShuo.

Photos: 1) Corey decending via a free-hanging 50M abseil from Low Mountain's SW Arete 2) Approaching Low Mountain through groves of citrus and cotton 3) Szu-ting leading yet another steep 10b at Space Butress

Yang Shuo Fire and Water Tourism and Fruit Trade Show Event (thingy)

It was perfect timing. Yang Shuo has been hosting their annual town festival and we were lucky enough to catch many of the festivities. Without a doubt it makes up for the lack of fanfare for the more traditional holidays back in America. The events calendar and coinciding tourist influx is beginning to wind down now. The traffic on the pedestrian street moves along well again and the municipal park has taken down the stage. It has been a fantastic evening diversion after a long day of climbing to come back to town and always have an exciting new thing to see. So as the banners fall from the street lights and we get on with another couple weeks here let me recap the most notable events of the Yang Shuo Fire and Water Tourism and Fruit Trade Show Event.

We first knew something was up when a large float decorated with plastic flowers and the local fruit (the gui) shown up on West Street. Szu-ting translated the calendar and told me there would be a beer competition, a marketing respresentive contest, dancing, and a fireworks show. All these items seemed vague and slightly uneventful but little did I know the amount of entertainment value the local government could pack in to these ambiguous titles. Sunday turned out to be the day of most of the excitement so we headed to the park following the loudspeakers. We found the place to be packed, loaded with kids chasing cotton candy and ballon vendors, and what appeared to be traditional native cultural dances being performed on an impressive stage. The costuming was intricate and while I understood very little of the music (or the Chinese Opera and one-act plays to follow) the performances and the turnout was still impressive for this little town.

After a break we headed back into town and found the place to be litterally crawling with tourists, most of them from neighboring towns. Police were everywhere but they seemed content just keeping traffic moving along. We arrived at a cross street to watch what was only described as a beer competition - turns out it was a beer drinking competition and I was immediately sorry I missed the sign-up. The first round was the western tourists and as they lined up to ready themselves to pound a TingSao 22 the local paparazzi swooped in for good photos. I shoot my photo from a balcony across the street. There were subsequent rounds of Chinese beer drinkers but somehow the white guys got all the fanfare at this event?

Just after the beer comp we made our way, with our own beers in hand, to the riverside. It was rumored there would be fireworks at 10. As we neared the waterway we recognized the immensity of our position. It looked as as the whole town plus the 5 neighboring towns had turned out to watch the display. We waded through people 'til we got right down to the water - still having no idea where these fireworks would be coming from but figuring the more dense the people the better the view. At 10:10 we were quite surprised to see that the fireworks would be shot off from immediately opposite the river from us (were talking Deschutes River not Columbia River here). Please remember the Chinese indeed invented gunpowder and still make most of the world's fireworks to this day so one can imagine the scope of a firework show at a festival whose name includes the word fire. For forty minutes we watch a few men run around these massive cannons and boxes launching the loudest fireworks I've ever heard into the air above us. The booms resounded off the limestone tower walls and reflected in the river at our feet. The ferry boats of the river lined up perfectly, each lit by a single light and floated idyllically past and out of sight. The fireworks went on and on, short and tall, flares and firecrackers, left and right, and all the time everyone ohhed and ahhed and took pictures with their cellphones.

The next day we were back from climbing just in time to the marketing representive contest. You guess it a Chinese beauty contest for the Queen of YangShuo (I give that name myself, but it is a good translation). On the park stage again, this time in the evening under lights with even more people standing and straining to get a view. First there was the swimsuit round, then the evening gown, then the question and answer, and then they must have crowned the Queen but we didn't stay for that long 'cause the Q and A was really boring if you don't speak Chinese. All in all a great week of giving thanks time events in YangShuo. Mark your calendars for Nov 22nd 2009 - the fireworks are always the same day!

Photos: 1)The best fireworks. Ever. 2) Ballon vendor
3)View from third pitch of the Egg. Yes we go rock climbing too 4)Westerners and paparazzi and beer.

It's not just another climbing route!
It's a tower in China

The Thumb: Happy New Year! (6 pitches, 6a+)

Yesterday was the first day we climbed a tower of limetsone. It rose from the rice and vegetable fields of rural China. We rode a crowded mini-bus just a handful of kilometers to be dropped off at the tourist spot called Butterfly Spring. It was the weekend and hoards of Chinese tourists rode bikes along the scenic rode and gawked at the magical views. The buses and trucks and cars streamed past as well, constantly honking and swerving around the biking hoards. We crossed through the quiet farmers tending thier crops and stood below the overhanging, colorful wall. The wall was well equipped with closely-spaced modern bolts and two-bolt belay anchors. The climbing was steep, but not too hard, and I struggled up some sections with my sore finger. Szu-ting made short work of an awkward bolted off-width crack nearing the top of the tower. The crack was razor sharp and the exposure was drastic but she nonethless escape upward without adding blood to the hand-eating fissure.

From the top of the tower the constant honking and tractor rumble fell away, and we were able to finally look out across the landscape of endless towers with the Li River weaving a ribbon a life throughout. Tourists and locals biked and laughed along below us and further, rice farmers swept their crop thin across concrete roofs to dry it in the patchy sun of the afternoon. We took it all in from the summit not much wider than a basketball court and then returned to the edge to begin our rappels to the ground. The anchor was pieced together and the strands of rope and webbing shown the wear of sun and rain. We added a caribiner to the mess, threaded our rope through it, and decended through knife-blade limestone and vertical jungle to the next, and much better, abseil anchor below.

China is a very new place for me to be travelling. Culturally it is unlike anything I have seen. There appears to be a great disparity between rich and poor. Though is seems that the rural people live simple and slow lives that have allowed them to escape the many trappings of the modern automobile and information driven society we have embraced in the west. By the way people drive and honk incessently here it appears cars may be fairly new to many of these villages, cell phones and the internet even more so. As the world continues to become more international, as cultures continue to melt into one another it gives me some sort of solace to see old Chinese farmers shucking rice grains with a wooden, hand-crank contraption.

Each night we explore the alleys and streets of Yang Shuo; it if a tourists destionation for not only westerners but for many Chinese from neighboring cities. There are thousands of resturants and craftman shops. There are western bars and hotels and pizza cafes and street vendors selling fruits and whole chickens and tea and deserts and cotton candy made with a bicycle tire and a wooden tub. Szu-ting translates menus, and street signs, and advertisements for me. I am beginning to learn words and phrases in Chinese which I forget and relearn daily. As I begin to understand how the language is put together I begin to understand the immediate and stark differences to English and I am even further impresses by Chinese speakers that have mastered the English language. I am not only thankful, but truly impressed by Szu-ting's speed and agility in daily translation; for it has allowed me to more fully appreciate the place. A place that continues to captivate my western mind.

Photos: 1) The Thumb; our route went basically right up the center of this colorful, vegetated tower. 2)Yang Shuo town and the myraid limestone towers beyond. 3)Looking out the round windows from "Sleeping On Clouds" lookout in Yang Shuo Municapal Park.

Dispatch - Yang Shuo, China - 11/20/2008

After two exciting days of travel we have arrived in Yang Shuo. Since there are no direct flights to the mainland from Taiwan so we first had to fly into Hong Kong. In Hong Kong we had planned on tranferring to a ferry that would take us to another airport across the water in China where we could then fly up north to a town called Guilin. Instead, we missed the ferry transfer to collect our luggage and was then forced through Hong Kong customs - once through customs we would have to find another option to get out of the airport. We choose the airport express train that led to the Hong Kong subway. The subway is very modern but very busy and required 5 transfers which we negotiated with all our climbing gear. The other thousands of people were obviously commuters and were surprised by our amount of luggage. We then reached an above ground line that headed for the Chinese border. At the end of the line we worked our way through Chinese customs and were finally on the mainland. We then spent hours trying o find a bus or train bound for the Szenchen airport - even speaking Chinese and English it took alot of asking to work our way through the confusing transportation network in China. We finally embarked on a wild bus ride through the city and ended at a local airport serving domestic flights within China.

We had yet to aquire tickets to Guilin so we went directly to the airline counter and bought tickets with cash for a later flight. We took all our gear and walked to the small neighboring town and had beers and dinner. There was a school bus full of kids that all ran to the side of the bus to say "hello" to the westerner in town. In all my travels in Asia I had never had this much attention from local children - they were clearly excited to practice their English and wowed by a white guy sitting on the street-side. Szu-ting said she had never got so many looks, for even though she is Chinese we were clearly not locals. We had amazing hand pulled noodles for 3 yen (40 cents) a plate for dinner and returned to the airport. The flight was an hour and 500 km long - the train would have been 13 hours so it was money well spent. We were finished after that day and found a hotel with a massive marble and chandelier lobby - it was $18 USD a night. In the morning we found yet another bus to take us the hour here to Yang Shuo. We have been busy working to find long-term housing, get climbing info, and settle into this tourist town amongst the beautful karst towers this region is famous for. More adventures to come.