How to Pack your backpack for alpine climbing

By no means am I an expert! But I do love alpine climbing, moving quickly, efficiently and safely over technical terrain is really cool. Here is how I pack my backpack:

Packing your back pack- I began my outdoor adventures as a backpacker, for some reason backpackers really over think how to pack their backpack.

On the other hand I have climbing partners who don't seem to put any thought into it at all, every stop they pull everything out to get whatever they need that is buried in the bottom of their pack.This can get annoying when its pouring rain and that rain jacket is stuffed super deep or its dark and you have no idea where your headlamp is.

For your first couple trips, maybe first couple years, avoid packing at the TH, ya its cool and seems like a good idea. Its also a great way to forget things with no resources to come up with a solution. When I pack my backpack the night before a big day I pack things in the order I will need them. So that means if I'm bringing a sleeping bag, tent and camping gear all that goes on the bottom because I won't need them all day. Maybe the stove stays near the top if I'm doing a long ski traverse and I think we'll need to melt snow for water along the way. If it's a day outing and my pack is big enough I put the rope on the bottom, I'll probably need everything else before getting to the base of the route. Sometimes if I choose to bring a tiny backpack the rope will go on top, but this can be annoying for long approaches where you'll be stopping multiple times or on approaches with bushwhacking, tangles and frustration is guaranteed. Next to be packed is all the stuff I'll be clipping to my harness; cordellete, belay device, lockers, autoblock chalk bag etc. Then my harness goes in, after the harness goes the rest of my stuff, usually in this order; windbreaker, lightweight down, sunglasses, electronics and small items. Food, water, light hoody, and beta go on top. On the outside of my pack I bungee my climbing shoes and helmet, these items take up a lot of volume if you put them on the backpack and have never bothered me being on the outside of the pack.

Packing like this makes life easy as I approach and climb. On the hike in, my food and water is easily accessible making fuel stops quick and my hoody is right on top if the hike gets chilly. When I arrive at the base of the climb(giant cliff) the first thing I do is put my helmet on. Safety first! If its cold I put all my layers on to keep my body warm while we transition. If its really cold I'll put my shoes in my jacket to make putting them on a little easier. Next I put my food and water on the ground, somewhere where they won't fall or roll away! I eat some snacks and I put a gu in my pocket for easy access on the route. Now I look in my pack, oh there's my harness, exactly what I need! I put that on, then my chalk bag then clip my belay biners and cordellete to the rear gear loops of my harness. Cool, now the only thing in my pack is my rope, maybe its already stacked? I tie into one side and stack it somewhere convenient for the belayer. The water, snacks and small items can go back into the pack to carry up the route, my route beta, camera or phone go into the thigh pocket on my pants.

Now you're ready to climb! Or help your climbing partner who is probably scrambling around, tied up in their harness, tripping over the gear explosion of their back pack.

Our packs for a 2 day climbing of Mt Stuart Cilogear 30L work sack and a BD speed 30

Take Aways:
-Pack the night before! You won't be rushed and if you can't find your sunglasses maybe you can borrow some!
-Pack Backwards, whatever you'll need last goes in first
-Don't pack you harness with all your junk clipped to it! This is an inefficient use of space and the nut tool will definitly get caught on something, your leg loops will be tangled and you'll have a difficult time putting your harness on
-shock cord is your friend
-Bring only what you need, carrying a bunch of gear you're not going to use makes everything harder
-Bring the right backpack, not to small, not to big
-Practice! Every time and anywhere you pack your pack you are practicing for those big alpine days so make good habits

North Gunsight Peak, West Face

"All men dream: but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dreams with open eyes, to make it possible"
-T.E. Lawrence

This quote and its message has followed me around for a long time, even longer than I had dreamed of climbing in the Gunsight Range. My eyes first crossed these lines in the book Touching the Void years ago way before technical alpine climbing was something I could even grasp.

Climbing the West Face of North Gunsight Peak free, with Deni, really was a dream come true. Climbing super hard, at my limit in an ultra alpine setting with Deni on the other end of the rope was so cool, I'll never forget that day.

The Gunsight Range and the Blue Glacier

The first day of our trip began with an alpine start at my parents house in Seattle to catch the ferry to Stehekin from Fields point. We looked out of place with huge bulging packs, and a bright pink climbing rope strapped to the top of my pack. Everyone asked what we were climbing; Bonanza? Nope, the Gunsights! They would respond with a confused look and wish us good luck.

 After the ferry we jumped on the bus to High Bridge just before a church group piled on with big packs. Their perky leader quizzed us on our plans, took pictures of our maps and beta. He told us they weren't quite sure about their plans yet but it looked like we had quite an adventure planned and maybe they would follow us up there. I was mortified. We had plans to go into a remote corner of the North Cascades and now, a herd was preparing to follow us

Deni at the TH

Deni: The bus followed the Stehekin river and we were not excited to lug our packs up 8 miles of the PCT but, we knew at some point, the suffering was inevitable. The day was hot as we stepped off the bus and we were once again quizzed by many thru-hikers. Finally, away from all the people and our packs hoisted on our backs, we started off on the trail. It was generally flat, but it was still hard to put one foot in front of the other. I had a piercing headache and Lance's pack had small hip straps, making the journey less than comfortable. We breaked every hour, refueling on water and scarfing down snacks. Finally, after about 4.5 hours of hiking we arrived at Swamp Creek campground. After soaking our feet in the ice cold river and making a delicious dinner, we closed our eyes, our day on the trail was complete!

The next day we woke up anticipating another long day to the base of the Gunsight range. We followed the beta from various trip reports on Cascadeclimbers.com and guidebooks. A mile past swamp creek we found a deteriorating wooden foot bridge which was more moss than wood but we figured this was the right spot and began our bushwhack down to Agnes creek. We found a log to cross which Deni really wasn't too excited about but it was our only option. At this point we found ourselves alone in the wilderness surrounded by devils club, slide alder and huge trees, no sign of humans existed.

Convenient, but sketchy log crossing

Off trail in the alpine! epic views!

Devil's Club, Vine Maple, Slide Alder, Huckleberry, Blueberry forever and ever! We made little progress as we attempted to get to a tree line that would have "relatively less vegetation". A few hours of bushwacking later we finally reached a ridge that seemed more manageable to ascend. However, we were now met with a steep slope. The bugs were so bad that when we rested we pulled out our mesh inner tent to hide under. The day was hot and we were running low on water, and the end of this miserable bushwack was no where near. We (miraculously) found a flat spot and quickly pitched our tent for a mid-afternoon nap. We were both exhausted. We awoke and started the upward battle again, this time a little speedier. Finally, we broke treeline and were greeted by epic granite slabs and peaks everywhere! Based on our pace, which was not fast, we knew that making it to the base of the climb today was an impossible goal. We had 1/2 liter of water left and there was no snow in sight. I was getting worried, but Lance insisted on forging ahead. We decided to make for an unnamed lake on the way to the Gunsights in hope for a good bivy and plenty of water. Slowly, now on the ridge, we traversed left, every step a hot, sweaty struggle. Next break...no water...no snow. Exhausted, thirsty. Then, about half hour later...a miracle! A stream! We gorged ourselves on water and climbed another hundred feet to a snow patch and our bivy site for the night. From here, we catch our first look at the east side of the Gunsights. They are beautiful, epic, unique, and REMOTE.

The Gunsights, and the locals

The next day, we slept in, knowing we would not have enough energy to climb. Instead, we set off at a leisurely pace to the base of Blue Glacier where we relaxed, ate snacks and enjoyed the views above our base camp. In the afternoon, we decided to explore and get our bearings of the area. The rock and setting reminds us of the Enchantments! We traversed across the Blue Glacier to a notch in the rocky ridge and scramble to the top, and are floored with amazing views of Sinister and Dome and the gnarly Chikamin Glacier, hugging the West side of the Gunsights. We discussed potential approach beta scoped out routes on Dome and barely caught our first glimpse of the North Peak's West Face which we decided would be the next day's objective.

Deni scopes the East Face of Main Gunsight Peak

Sinister, Dome and the awesome Chikimin Glacier

Anticipation and nerves burned at me the entire evening, doubt would creep in, can I pull through that 5.11+ crux? Will the gear be good? If one of us gets hurt.....we're so far out....

Then next morning my aluminum crampons refused to stay attached to my boots, not a good start to the day. Eventually we were at the base of the West Face we traversed high around the range weaving between granite boulders on snow fingers. The West Face explodes out of the glacier, I knew it would be steep but this face is STEEP! Crack systems went everywhere but never really crossed, and they look so thin and flaring, it was daunting for sure. We noticed the corner and flake system slicing right down from the apex of the face to approximately mid height. We figured this must be the last two pitches of the route. Below that was a pure white granite face with thin looking cracks and knobs, we knew that must be the crux! I was so relieved to see those cracks and knobs but I knew they must be thin to warrant the 5.11+ grade

Finally, after some scrambling around and up a long broad ledge, Lance with his keen eyes, spotted what we thought was the first pitch (5.9+). Delicate, insecure climbing with marginally small gear greeted you off the ground and then a juggy run out to the belay. The crux pitch was next. Lance seemed calm, confident and focused!

The West Faces of the Gunsight Range

Cool ledge across the base of the wall

Here we were at the base of the crux, it was time to answer all those questions that had run through my mind for weeks. It was time to quiet all the doubts. I started up the slab cursing at my light rack and the limited gear opportunities, finally I found a placement for a tiny, but bomber cam. Now, at least I wouldn't go all the way to the belay if I messed this up. I kept moving up and left to the best looking cracks, I found surprisingly good holds but the wall kept ramping off, every chance I could I rested, and focused my mental energy. I  moved into the crux, a perfect pod for a .75 cam appeared, making me very happy. I placed the cam and charged into the crux hoping for the best, the cracks were flaring and the chickenheads were slippery. I fell three times, the first fall was big, the exposure and alpine setting started to creep in. Finally on my fourth try my mind was quiet, I stopped trying so hard and just did it, pulling through the crux felt so good, a huge sense of accomplishment flooded through me. Above the crux I fumbled in some more cams and eventually found a belay for Deni. She sailed through the crux, I gave her a little beta but she had no problem due to her natural talent for balancy and sequencey climbing.

Deni launches on Pitch 1

Deni getting stoked for the 5.11+ crux

The next pitch...5.10+, a physical crux this time. Lance made a wild gymnastic move off the belay to gain flaring cracks and some shit gear opportunities.  At the top of this pitch, an overhanging handcrack was a welcome change from the flaring finger cracks below. The last cruxy pitch was a steep, wide corner that demanded contrived climbing. It was a long, vertical battle! Even in the face of physical exhaustion, Lance went into "warrior" mode, leading this with finesse and determination.

It felt good to be above the crux pitch, but the next couple pitches looked daunting and I could feel the exhaustion. I had really worked us into a difficult situation. I knew we had to climb ourselves out of this spot, Upward Escape was the only option. Rapping down with our short rope would be expensive and difficult. I started climbing up and up, all the hanging belays were killing us, our feet hurt and we were getting more and more disorganized and strung out. Finally I found a ledge after traversing right on a featured slab. As Deni followed struggling with the pack on the steep climbing I cheered her on, and promised her food and water on the ledge.

After three consecutive hanging belays, each one less comfortable than the last, we were pleased to rest on a small ledge. One final push to the summit, up blocky, easy climbing brought us to the summit plateau. We lay here, in the middle of the cascades with the sun on our faces, in near tears from our triumphant climb! We spotted the original summit registrar and opened up a rusty canister full of 3 brown and faded papers and one more recent document. I felt chills when handling this mountain history in my hands! The first ascent of this peak was in 1965, and Fred Beckey, Jim Nelson, Blake Herrington, and Jens Holsten had signed the registrar, we felt psyched and privileged to be up on this mountain that so few enjoy and putting our names down next to these Cascade Pioneers was so cool . We scrambled up 20 feet of weird climbing to the true summit, pleased to see rap tat in relatively good condition. 

Summit stoke

Summit Register!

After our summit celebration and addition to the register we began the adventure of getting down. I was beginning to feel our warm sun and daylight slipping away, time to go!

A couple rappels and some tedious downclimbing over loose rock brought us down the adjacent peak to the Chikamin glacier. It was scary to see large boulders shift their weight as your hands and feet lightly danced around them, praying you wouldn't knock one loose. Just before the last rappel, the scariest moment of the climb occurred. We had exchanged our climbing shoes for boots in preparation for the snow below, and I was anxious to remove the clanging hardware from my harness. Lance wanted to wait, he said "Lets do it when we are on the glacier and out of the firing zone", I was pretty miserable and responded with "It will take 2 minutes, its killing me!" Lance agreed "ok, well lets do it under this cave", literally moments later a huge rockfall occurs and if we hadn't been under the cave, we would have been nailed.

Lesson learned. Listen to your partner, do not underestimate the mountains, things happen quickly and without warning! We promptly decided to get the f**k off the mountain and made the last rappel and ninja move onto the snow. Back on solid ground again, we cruised the steep snow over the col and back down to the tent, and stumbled into camp. We cooked an amazing dinner and reveled in the accomplishments of the day.

After narrowly evading being squashed like a tiny bug by boulders many times our weight I was extremely anxious to get down to the glacier. We rigged our last rappel quickly and simul-rapped down to the moat, of course there would be a big moat. Hanging there together was nice, because we formulated a plan and Deni could get an ice axe the pack for me. 3, 2, 1! I launched myself out from the wall while Deni jumped up, this resulted in me flying towards the ice, where I managed to stick the ice axe and drag myself up on to the snow. Then Deni easily followed with me holding the ropes. We both felt like alpine ninjas.

Deni on the descent

Lance on the descent

The walk down to camp was a great time for reflection. I was amazed with our drive and tenacity, both of us had been pushed to our limits in every possible way but we never broke down, we never lost control. Our brief rock fall encounter was scary but it gave me confidence in my ability to assess risk and make good decisions in the alpine, the whole descent I was hyper aware of rock fall and our safety. Up there we had a really small margin of error, Deni and I are both WFR's and have practiced our self rescue skills intensely, but only in a gym, with ideal conditions. If one of us was to get hurt, it would require a heroic effort by the other. I love being in the alpine, I love the sense of adventure, stretching that umbilical cord from civilization as far as possible gets me fired up. I'm glad places like this exist, these faraway wonderlands where simple laws of nature still rule and the balance between gravity and friction define the possible.

The next morning we were sore and exhausted from the previous day's adventure so we decided to take the day to rest, despite the splitter weather. After a day of rest, we decided that the East Face (5.10d) would be tomorrow's objective so we got all packed up for an early ascent. That night, our tent shook from intense wind. We were camped on an exposed ridge and wind seemed to whip right through our tent, at times I swear our tent floor lifted off the ground! We barely slept! At daybreak, we poked our heads out of the tent and were bummed out when a cold bitter wind slapped us in the face and a dark ominous cloud temporarily engulfed the Gunsights. From the warmth of our sleeping bags, it looked miserable up there! We worried that if it began to thunderstorm, we would be dangerously exposed on this ridge in a not-so-weather-proof tent. With today looking bleak and the forecast predicting similar scenarios for the next few days, we hastily packed up our things as more clouds moved in and the bitter wind picked up. As we began the journey down, I feared we would be descending the long bushwack down in the rain. But, the farther we traveled from the large peaks, the weather got better! The hike out would prove to be just as strenuous and patient-trying, as the hike in.

One last pic!

Our abrupt departure from the Gunsights after climbing the West Face was quite a bummer. It felt like buying the car of your dreams and having it stolen the next day, but we also felt fortunate to have had success on our first time into the Gunsights. I have heard rumors of poor souls who get to the Gunsights only to sit in the rain for days and days. I knew the descent was going to be very challenging and descending in the rain or after a heavy storm would be a nightmare and potentially very dangerous.

We down climbed seemingly forever on scree to gain the treeline below. Once we reached the treeline, picking our line of descent was not so easy, we needed to stay in the trees and avoid the bushes, but we couldn't keep traversing East. Finally, we committed to a patch of trees. They soon ended and spit us out into a huge swath of vine maple and slide alder. The slope was so steep and the bushes so thick that it was a challenge to stay upright and we both swore, floundered and felt swallowed by the bush many times. The battle of the bushes ensued the whole way down, for hours. I felt like I was in some fucked up maze that I would never emerge from. Even Lance's patience was wearing thin and he has the patience of a stone. After about 5 long miserable hours we were back to the river, we crossed the log and were back to the luxury trail! So pleased to have just dirt beneath our feet, we hustled to swamp creek. 

At the Swamp Creek campground we filled our water bottles and munched on snacks. I knew the last bus from the trailhead was at 6:15 and it was already almost 2:30. The promise of beer and a restaurant got me thinking maybe we could just barely make it. Deni seemed interested in trying so we began to charge down the trail. My whole body ached and hurt, my feet and shoulders were nothing but pain, my unpadded pack had worn a massive blister on my back and I could feel burning flesh every step. We kept charging, I would look back and Deni was still just barely behind me. 6:09 came and we were so close, when Deni caught up to me, she was in tears and miserable, but she wanted to keep going. Her determination inspired me to run the last bit to the trail head and force the driver to wait.

We practically ran the next 8 miles in 3 hours. I channelled my inner olympic-power-walker and Lance took giant, bounding strides down the trail, both of us willing our feet one more mile, one more mile! By the end, I felt delusional and in tears and Lance was not faring much better, but as we rounded the corner we saw the bus, and ran to it, hopping on with minutes to spare! Phew, what an epic way to end this crazy adventure!

We hadn't seen another human being in a while, and we smelled bad. It was a great combo. As the bus pulled out of high bridge, and away from one of the most remote and beautiful places I have ever been, all of the suffering, struggle and obstacles disappeared and all I felt was a sense of awe and gratitude for the mountains that hosted us for the week!

While we only completed one climb, and many might think for a high cost, it was totally worth it! It is rare that you can find such an intense adventure void of people with quality alpine climbing in the lower 48 states.

Cheers!

The Desert Pilgrimage

Zion from the top of The Spearhead photo by Lance Colley

The desert was calling. I could hear and feel the whispers even through the dreary, rainy Seattle weather, even through the sterile white walls of the labs hidden deep within the UW. My mind strayed constantly finding the memories of the warm desert, its secret treasures and unparalleled beauty. Winter quarter was coming to an end, spring break was coming and it was time for Deni and I to venture back. Back to freedom, love and inspiration.

Finally, March 17th at 4:20pm I finished my last final and we took off into the distance! We spent three days in Zion, climbing and canyoneering. We spent a day in Moab cragging and then 4 days in Indian Creek. Our last day we climbed lighthouse tower in Moab. Battered to pieces we dragged ourselves home after 10 days of constant adventure and friendship. We enjoyed everyone's company who joined us.
Those are the facts. Here is the story:

Zion

We pull into the campground, squealing with happiness. Everything is cloaked in darkness, we can feel the immensity of this place, it radiates energy. Tomorrow we will climb

The Spearhead, Iron Messiah 5.10+ 1000ft.
Its huge, and we are small. The two of us, against a massive wall. The wall has stood for ages repelling the weak.

The man on the shuttle "you are going to climb that...."

Deni following the first pitch of Iron Messiah photo by Lance Colley

Chimneys, Traverses, grunts, falls, hand jams, frustrations, fear, awe. Finally the summit. Start rappelling.

Stuck rope. DAMN

On the summit of The Spearhead. Exhausted. Photo by Deni Murray

Hours and hours pass. Darkness falls, hiding the ground. We have no headlamp. The ends of our rope quietly slither into the blackness below.

Composure falls apart, tears fall, regroup, deep breaths. Keep fighting. Focus on the task, fix the problem

There goes the last shuttle. Winding its way back to the end of the canyon. Leaving us in the dark.

Finally on the ground. We stumble to the road alone in the darkness. No shuttle is coming. Feet hurt. Stomach is growling. Deni is so strong she begins the trek back to camp. I try to keep up.

There is no progress in the darkness, no lights, no reference we just keep walking.

Finally saved by star gazers our walk was over.

Deni and Emma. A day of cragging in Zion photo by Lance Colley

Desert Secrets

Photo by Lance Colley

The Crew. Photo by Lance Colley

We walked miles into the desert, we discovered a passage below the surface.

A passage carved by an artist.

He has no hands, eyes or purpose. Just time, water and sand.


We are here to explore this aimless art.

Photo by Lance Colley

We rappel, we commit.The artist promises beauty

Rappels into icy cold darkness

Deeper and Deeper

Darkness hides pools and lakes.

 This water has never enjoyed the kiss of sunlight.

So cold and foreboding the water hates us for disturbing it.

Can we walk through or will we have to swim?

How long will we be swimming.

We swim into the darkness.

Uncontrollable shivers.

Silence.

The lovely orange sun caresses the orange walls high above us.

Taunting us.

At the mercy of the artist.

 When will his art end, what will be next.

We enter a giant room.

Ominous.

We must swim.

Rock bridges weave in and out above us, the sun is gone


We found beauty, or maybe it found us.

Lizzy wading out into a giant pool 

Time to leave this treasure, back to the desert.

Exiting the canyon via the East Virgin River Photo by Lance Colley

Indian Creek

My head tilts back, my eyes follow the perfect splitter crack up the wall and into the blue sky, my toes wiggle in the sand with anticipation, my hands sweat, perspiration beads up and runs down my face. The gentle breeze whispers relief from the sun.

Scarface at sunset photo by Lance Colley

I whisper to Deni
She whispers back

-On Belay?
-Belay On.
-Climbing?
-Climb On.

Michael Rowley climbing the Cave Route 5.10+ photo by Tyler Thompson

The journey begins. A hand jam, a sandy foot hold, placing cams, clipping the rope. Deep breaths. Focus. All my energy and focus is channeled. It feels good, overwhelmingly good. I could fall, but I won't, its not important.

Incredible Hand Crack 5.10 photo by Lance Colley

Blood courses through my arms. Feet scream with agony. My hands and feet have more fight, they just don't know it. There is always more fight. Climbing is good for the soul. Tomorrow will be a rest day.

Lance battles Coyne Crack 5.11+

The next day I give up on resting. This place is pure inspiration, I must do better. I take more battles. Falling is an opportunity to learn, to grow. Life is boring without pain and fear.

Deni leading an unnamed 5.10 photo by Lance Colley

My friends are with me, they watch from the ground. They give me energy. They understand. I love them.

Lance leading Swedin-Ringle 5.12- photo by Michael Rowley

Our last day in Indian Creek. I promise to return. To the Desert and to myself..

"The Stolen Summer" Summer 2014

Lance nearing the summit of Dragontail peak via the Backbone ridge fin direct. Photo by Michael Rowley

Wow. It has been way too long since I've taken the time to sit down and share my adventures, quite a shame considering the climbing I've been doing in the last couple months. Buckle your seat belt and put your helmet it on, here we go!

The middle of May I broke my wrist falling off my bike. I took a corner onto a sidewalk just a little too fast. I crashed, concerned drivers stopped and asked if I was okay. Within 10 seconds of crashing, I  knew my wrist was broken and began my walk of shame to Hall Health. I texted Deni with defeat.....it was difficult texting with only my left hand...she met up with me at Hall Health, dripping in the coffee she spilled in her rush.

With some ice the pain subsided, but a colder realization took place. I was due to be an assistant guide on Denali in just a few weeks with Dave Hahn, an incredible opportunity and a dream I had been pursuing for the last couple years. The trip would be a landmark for me, a big step in my pursuit as an alpinist and guide. The dream was shattered, my summer was shattered, climbing was out of the question and what could fill that void?

It turns out the void was filled with more sickness. A few weeks later I went into surgery for a tonsillectomy. The six months prior I was constantly getting sick, every couple of weeks I would get something similar to strep throat, I repeatedly went to the doctor. Every doctor tested me for mono, strep and cancer. The fourth time of this I was fed up. My Uncle, an infectious disease specialist at Valley Medical, diagnosed me with Tonsillitis. This made sense so the cure was to get my tonsils removed, be miserable for a few days and then return to my healthy self and get on with my summer. It seemed great, my wrist was broken anyway so I thought doing the surgery now, before life got back in full swing was perfect. Needless to say, life is hardly perfect.

The surgery went fine, those tonsils came right out and anesthesia doesn't really bother me. Unfortunately the artery at the back of my throat refused to heal. My throat kept bleeding profusely even two weeks after the surgery. I spent many hours bent over a basin spitting up gobs of dark partially coagulated blood, cups and cups poured out of my mouth, once in a while a big glob of the red shit would clog my throat causing me to vomit into the basin adding half digested food and more blood to the mix. Staring down into a plastic basin full of my blood, spit and spirit surrounded by darkness and helplessness is one of the most vivid memories from my summer. The miserable ordeal lasted weeks. Through three surgeries I lost twenty pounds, and 40% of my total blood volume, at one point I wasn't allowed to eat anything more than simple chicken broth. This abuse left me with a pale skinny frame which could barely make it up the stairs of house twice a day.

I spent fourth of July on the couch sipping the delicious juices of the steaks my parents and best friend Cody, who was cool enough to hang with his bedridden friend, readily devoured.

The second unplanned surgery ruined my plans to visit Deni in Colorado. Apparently anemic folks don't do well on airplanes but my amazing girlfriend found a way pay for a flight home and found me in the hospital. She stayed for only a few days before returning to her field work in Colorado but the positive energy and love helped turn around my low morale.

I slowly got better and better, a couple weeks after my third surgery I began to feel like I was finally leaving behind the sadness that had consumed me so far that summer. My wrist healed remarkably well, I dedicated myself to the exercises my physical therapist gave me. I went through them as I watched my heroes on YouTube climb around the world for inspiration to get better. Eventually I was able to turn my hand all the way over without assistance and soon I was lifting weights and finally could do push ups again.

Throughout these ordeals I kept talking to RMI hoping I would be able to guide again by the end of the summer. This hope was crushed upon losing 40% of my blood volume, going to altitude was out of the question for my hemoglobin deficient blood.

By the end of July things were coming together but guiding was out of the question for the summer and finding a real job for the remaining summer was out of the question. I craved the mountains and the challenges they presented, I felt weak and unaccomplished. It was time to go to the mountains and make a comeback, prove to myself that I was still strong.

I set out with my buddy Jason Kowitz and half my normal red blood cells to crush the Serpentine Arete of Dragontail Peak, a cascades classic. I huffed and puffed all day striving to get oxygen to the muscles I hadn't used in months but we had a successful day!

The rest of the summer I climbed as much as possible with an aggressive passion usually planning my next trip while driving home from my last. I enjoyed the wonderful granite spires of Washington Pass, the alpine ambience of the Stuart Range, the low key vibes of Index and the grandeur of Squamish. I eventually got strong, actually I'm climbing stronger than I ever have in the past and finally pushing into the hard long climbs I've only gawked at in the past.

Now here are the pictures, hopefully they inspire!

Slide Show includes Pictures by: Michael Rowley, Todd Kilcup, Deni Murray and Chase Nelson

I climbed with a ton of people this summer and had so much fun! I gotta thank all you guys for the amazing pitches we had together. If I skimped you on gas money I'm really sorry but lets get out again and I'll drive!

Here is a list of the climbs I did and the people I enjoyed them with

Serpentine Arete 5.8 Grade IV 8-10 pitches Jason Kowitz

Direct East Buttress, South Early Winter Spire(SEWS) 5.10 C Grade IV 10 pitches Tucker Richards

West Face(twice), North Early Winter Spire 5.11a Grade III 12 pitches Tucker Richards, Sage Ebel, Deni     Murray, Erik Poulin

West Ridge, Paisano Pinnacle to North Face, Burgandy spire 5.9- Grade IV 15 pitches Tucker Richards

NW Corner, North Early Winter Spire 5.9+ Grade III 6 pitches Tucker Richards, Erik Poulin

Beckey Route, Liberty Bell to SW Rib, SEWS 5.8 Grade III+ 14 pitches Deni Murray

East Face, Minute Man Tower 5.10a Grade III 4 pitches Deni Murray (attempt)

Rebel Yell, Chianti Spire, 5.10b Grade III 7 pitches Todd Kilcup, Jeremy Prins

NW Face, Liberty Bell 5.9 Grade II+ 7 pitches Todd Kilcup, Jeremy Prins

Davis Holland-Lovin' Arms, Index Upper Town Wall 5.10C Grade III+ 6 pitches Tucker Richards

Squamish Buttress, The Chief 5.10C Grade IV- 14 pitches Deni Murray

Liberty Bell Traverse, Liberty Bell Group, 5.9+ Grade V ~20 pitches Chase Nelson 

Slow Children, Index Lower Town Wall, 5.10d Grade II 3 pitches Cody Mack, Michael Rowley

Backbone Ridge, Dragontail Peak, 5.9+ Grade IV+ 14 pitches Michael Rowley

Climbed somewhere around 150 pitches of rock on these routes!

So many great climbs but here are some highlights:

Surviving a flash flood with Deni Murray. It was insane! We experienced a sense of camaraderie and teamwork and survival we've never felt before

Backbone ridge with Michael Rowley. Such an incredible route! And Todd gave us perfect beta on gear. This route should be at the top of everybody's list. 

The "money pitch" on Rebel yell. So strenuous, but so splitter! Big hands and big fists! AAARRGH

Pushing myself like never before on the West face of NEWS with Tucker and then again with Deni, Sage and Erik. I don't think anything compares to pushing yourself way beyond the limits you set for yourself, its an awesome mental state that is incredibly rewarding when you succeed

Slow Children at Index with Cody and Michael, amazing route, amazing day, awesome partners. Another moment when I pushed hard!

LIVIN THE DREAM Indian Creek part 3

After climbing Ancient Art, morale was low due to the gray weather and the emotionally exhausting climb on the tower so we headed into town to find a mocha and organize our trip down to Indian Creek. From there we hit up the grocery store, a thrift shop and then headed South. 

The next day we woke up under some epic Indian ruins, everything was soggy from a rainstorm the night before which meant climbing on the sandstone that day probably wasn't going to happen. Despite the storm the night before, the day was epic and was not to be wasted. We decided to head up to the ruins on the cliff and check them out. 

Deni and Sage in the ruins

Eric being an Indian 

Eric and I with the tallest ruin

After exploring the ruins we decided to continue exploring the desert and headed to Canyonlands National Park. 

The gang

Crazy rocks 

Wow

Canyonlands is Awesome.

After our day in Canyonlands we arrived back at our campsite just before dark and settled in. A great dinner led to lots of fun and games around the campfire and then an intense discussion upon the next days climbing in the land of splitter cracks.

We woke up to another beautiful day in the desert, I was driven to climb hard and get a taste of this climbers paradise, a dream was lived that day.

Deni and I departed the trailhead first and made a beeline to Chocolate corner, one of the classic 5.9 hand cracks. I racked up and taped and began climbing, climbing in the corner was surprisingly strenuous and had me a little worried for the rest of the day. Soon I as at the top pulling on jugs to the chains where I set a top rope and celebrated my successful first pitch in Indian Creek. I was no longer an Indian Creek, splitter creek virgin. Meanwhile the rest of the crew had shown up and Rory was busy leading a sweet 5.10 called Elephant man which was full cool movements and jams of all kinds. Soon we had quite the top rope party going and quite the line to get on Chocolate Corner.

stoked

Deni on Chocolate Corner

Rory on Elephant man

Sage, Belay master

Contemplating a dream

From Chocolate corner we headed over to Binou's crack, another classic 5.9 featuring a finger crack and interesting offwidth leg jams. We waited a while to get on this classic but again I was stoked and cruised up it finding the perfect spots for each cam the guide book tells you to bring. In places you can tell that hundreds of people before you have put a cam in a certain spot because a perfect little spot has been worn into the soft stone. I set up the toprope again for Deni to give it a ride. She also cruised up and enjoyed the dynamic movements required at the top. Fingers in the finger crack and your right leg squished into the huge offwidth on the neighboring wall.

Deni climbing 

Deni in the crux near the top

After climbing Binou's crack we pulled down the rope and headed over to Sage and Rory who had a sweet 5.11 crack top roped. Deni and I both gave it a shot and felt like we could climb it clean on top rope with another try but leading on gear was totally out of the question. Hanging on those tiny finger locks trying to place little nuts seemed ridiculous. Above the 5.11 was a sick looking 5.12 finger that was slightly overhanging, definitely over my head.

Deni mock leading a 5.8 the 5.11 is on the right

After a lap on the 5.11 and Deni's 5.8 we headed to Generic Crack, an ultra classic climb at Indian Creek. Ever since I started technical rock climbing I've climbers cranking hard on the huge splitters of the Creek and I ached to feel the desperation they felt at the top of these amazing climbs. Climbing here, I was finally walking in the footsteps of my heroes. Generic Crack was more than a climb for me but an odyssey and a culmination of the journey I departed on a few years ago when I laced up my first pair of climbing shoes. At the base I racked up with a bunch of cams, all the same size because this crack was nothing but perfect hand jams and went to work. Twenty feet off the ground I negotiated a huge pod and then found myself in an endless hand crack for the next 100 feet. The climb was strenuous and sustained but determination kept me from resting or falling and an awesome zen like focus guided me to the chains.

Lance climbing generic crack

Deni climbing

After Generic crack the day was done, my arms were tired and I couldn't imagine a better way to end the best day of climbing I've ever experienced. Deni, Rory and Sage all got a lap on Generic crack and off we went back to the parking lot. At the parking lot we lounged on crash pads and snacked on peanut butter and jelly on Wheat thins. Delicious, Nutritious and Cheap. We spent that night under the Ruins before beginning the long drive back to Seattle the next day.