Going South

With a large storm predicted, a month of time spent and a dwindling hit-list, it was time to leave Squamish. The atmosphere is so relaxed that realistically if we had stayed any longer we mightn't have left at all.

Toby had been suggesting that it'd be remiss of us to not visit Vancouver before leaving Canada. Although it's less than 2 hrs from Squamish, we still hadn't 'quite' managed to fit it in on a rest day. Stopping briefly in MEC to pick up our new (super skinny, super scary) 7.5 mm half rope, we continued on into the heart of the city, letting the satnav app plot our route. This ended up with us taking the 'scenic' route through one of the supposedly most notorious streets for drug abuse and homelessness. Arriving at the coast, we parked up at 'Second Beach' and began the stroll along the waters edge to Granville Market (via a taxi boat).

Inside the market we both indulged our inner fat kid by enjoying as much of the great looking food as we could manage (there was far more worth testing) before it was time to leave for the CA/USA border.

Arriving at the border we faced the usual questions and all seemed to be going to plan. We were re-directed to gain a 'Visa Waiver' as ours had expired and this is where things began going awry. We happened upon a rather officious border control employee who was following the rules to the letter. From what I understand the Visa waiver programme basically requires you to fly back to your continent of residence between your 90 day stay allowances. Exiting to Mexico, or in our case Canada, isn't deemed acceptable and is technically classed as an 'overstay' (a dreaded word and one that misses the point that you actually left the country of jurisdiction). The next few hours weren't fun, although having read of similar stories we were prepared with enough documents to support our case (mortgage statement, sabbatical letter, proof of finance, return flight etc.). In the end a supervisor was summoned and after he had (quickly) ascertained that we hadn't overstated our initial 90 days in the states, we were issued another 90 days. Phew!

On the way up to Canada many of our 'tourist ticks' failed due to weather and this time Nat was adamant that we'd be going to see the picturesque Oregon coast line so she could relax on a beach. A suitable town just south of the appropriately named 'Seaside' was chosen and predictably we arrived to thick, low hanging fog. Local by-laws make staying there incredibly difficult and thus we were moved on for the first time in this trip at 1 AM by the local Sheriff. Thankfully he pointed out somewhere he deemed acceptable for us to sleep (a mere mile away). We awoke to yet more fog and finally concluded that we weren't meant to see the seaside.

The rest of the drive was fairly boring, ploughing down the I5 stopping only to change over and fuel our V8 (repeatedly). On finding a large white rabbit underneath a picnic table in a rest stop which belonged to a local couple who appeared to be living there, we concluded the states must be extremely bizarre if you ever dare venture to the deep Southern states.

Arriving in Carson city we stopped for the standard dinner and a movie before carrying on to Lake Tahoe. Unlike last time the lake wasn't shrouded in mist and rain and thus Nat finally managed to enjoy a day on the beach.

The next climbing destination was in the 'High Sierras': 'The Incredible Hulk'. With a 6 mile approach which gains around 3,000ft in altitude (finishing at 11,120') logistics and altitude prove the main stumbling blocks. The latter causing us both to be seriously out of breath when climbing even the relatively steady pitches of 'Red Dihedrals' (the day was spent with a very light head).

The walk-in is in fact a little over-hyped (Nat may contest this) and thus we took bivi gear, approaching on day 1, sleeping (with great views of the 'Milky Way') and then climbing and descending on day 2. In reality a long day car to car would probably just about have been feasible. 

Just outside of Bishop (our next stop-over) is 'Cardinal Pinnacle' (a recent addition to the SuperTopo guidebook) which is described as mini-Hulk (with a mini approach to match), a great warm-up for the real thing (oops). The granite on our chosen 'West Face' route was some of the highest quality we've encountered and in typical High Sierra style, we topped out as the thunder and lightening began its show.

Coming down back into Bishop we both became aware of the sound of metal on metal. Our brake pads had totally disintegrated which made for a 'fun' 12 mile descent back into the town (ruining the discs simultaneously).

Stranded back in Bishop waiting for a local garage to open we opted for yet another dirtbag dinner and a movie. Thankfully we were saved from our terrible choice of "Red 2" due to the storm escalating and starting a fire (lightening strike) which took out the local power.

The next days were spent either lounging in nearby coffee shops or the local hot springs before the van was fixed and we could carry on with our journey.

Squamish

Squamish was one of the destinations on the itinerary which I was most looking forward to. Whilst I didn't know any of the specific routes, I'd seen pictures of the awesome looking granite (rumours suggesting that it beat Yosemite hands-down) and heard good things from friends who had been.

Driving in and seeing 'The Stawamus Chief' for the first time, I have to admit I doubted if the area was going to sustain us for the month we had planned there. However, purchasing the local guide and quickly turning to the 'Top 100' list, there certainly seemed to be plenty to get going with!

We quickly got stuck in, with 'Skywalker' being the first route on the agenda. The 5.8 crux corner pitch felt stiff until we realised that the granite here had much more friction, so that you could actually smear, a novelty compared to straight-in crack climbing. As we continued to pick off the classic lower grade routes (I was granted an easier month after leaving Yosemite behind), it was clear that actually the grades were rather kinder (Paul: softer) than Yosemite, and the granite consistently bulletproof at every grade.

The nature of the (mainly) West facing routes meant that we quickly fell into a routine of climbing until early afternoon and then chilling out in 'Zephyr Cafe', the local coffee shop and climber's hang-out (Mmm Chilli Mocha). Squamish was a refreshing change from the US. With climbing, walking, cycling and Kiteboarding all in close proximity, the town boasts a healthy active populous, a stark contrast to 'fat' America. Some of the highlights of the town included the local 'Howe Sound Brew Pub' (Mmm King Heffy) and the weekly Saturday farmer's market.

The perfect weather made life easy as we worked through the tick list. 

The Chief is comprised of a number of tiers, broken by densely forested ledges, meaning you can start at the road (i.e. the 'Lower Apron') and climb as far as you like (one of the peaks), with the crowds diminishing the higher you go. The first route we topped out on 'the Chief' had us slightly concerned (following our Eldorado epic and the complex descents of Yosemite) as the guide read only 'Descent' (followed by a vague arrow on the topo), but on summiting amidst the crowds of tourists, it was evident the cliff top was rather too easily accessible. With tourists literally climbing over one another to get down the 'Via Ferrata' style ladder down from the 'Second Peak', getting back down took nearly as long as climbing up (bolted anchors allow for fast upward progression).

I still can't get over the friendly American/Canadian attitude of congratulating you on the way down from having topped-out, with comments such as "Good job guys!"' and "You go girl!" (Paul: the latter directed at Nat only!). I guess we're far too British, and as we descended the tourist trail, getting repeatedly asked how the climb went, the answer changed from "Yeah really great" to a muttered "Hmmm OK" (or, leave me alone I'm British) as we got closer to the road.

One thing which must be noted about Squamish is the extreme accessibility of the climbs. This extends not only to the non-existent approaches, but to the climbs themselves. There seems to be an almost competitive attitude between first ascensionist to make their climbs as accessible as possible, with bolts thrown in like they're going out of fashion (they're clearly not). This extends to the level of one route having a bolt before the traversing crux to protect the leader, and a second bolt a foot later for the second, both next to perfectly acceptable natural placements. 

(Paul: This is made even more bizarre by the juxtaposition of routes such as 'Genius Loci' (which means spirit of the place), held in such high esteem by the local climbing community. Hamish Fraser (dubbed as the best climber you've never heard of) established this line with minimal top down cleaning and ground-up bolting, a noble ethic followed by few. However, Squamish (or Canada) was described as having a tolerant nature and not suffering from "British ethical hangups" and thus, many routes of different styles happily coexist. A video of 'Genius Loci' can be found here).

They also seem to be rather chainsaw happy ("this route is sponsored by Stihl"), and it isn't at all uncommon to find a perfectly good tree had been removed and replaced with a bolted anchor. 

(Paul: To a certain degree the level of 'cleaning' is understandable. Routes here are not 'opened' or 'realised', they are 'dug' out. Nature is so aggressive in this part of the world that cracks re-fill with dirt within a year if not climbed and the sprawling trees will soon cover a forgotten line, their leaves shedding onto the featureless friction slabs. 

When Fred Beckey began climbing in Squamish it sounds as if most of the time was spent simply swinging from tree to tree (in fact the recent Tami Knight article in Alpinist suggests that if you haven't climbed a tree in Squamish part way up a route, you haven't truly experienced Squamish). For some insight into new route development in Squamish try reading 'The First Rule of Dig Club'.)

In spite of this, we were enjoying the 'easy' nature of the area and some of the fantastic routes on offer. One of my favourite areas was 'The Papoose', with 'Centrefold' being one of the best routes we did in Squamish. With quality crack climbing, technical slabs and delicate cruxes, what more could one want from a route? Paul did however manage to add a good few grades to the final balancey slab by ignoring the chalked features out left and forging a direct path to the summit, via a minging crimp.

Mid way through our time in Squamish, we received the generous offer of accommodation from (UKB owner) 'Insect Overlord #2' (more commonly known as Toby). Now with a full sized bed and a shower, Squamish was more comfortable than ever (although I did miss playing on the monkey bars with the kids in the local swimming pool!).

The 'Arc'teryx Film Fesival' which arrived around the same time, also brought with it Mina. It was great to see a familiar face (possibly the first on the trip), and together we experienced the local coffee, alcohol and ice cream (we did however pass on the offer of going bouldering!).

One of the reasons Squamish was feeling so relaxed, is there weren't many specific routes we wanted to do. We were content just working our way through the 'Top 100'. However, one of the few routes we (read Paul) were particularly keen for, was the 'Grand Wall' (the only Parois tick in Squamish). Attempt 1 unluckily coincided with one of only 2 rainstorms in the whole month we were there, and we had to bail from below the 'Split Pillar'.

Getting back on the route the next day to try again, it was quickly clear I was having one of those days were I should have just stayed in bed. I felt knackered, but was determined not to bail (mistake #1). While Paul made fairly short work of the Split Pillar (after scurrying back down for a #3), I found my child sized hands didn't really fit, and was forced to layback most of the pitch. With much cursing and far too many rests on the rope, I managed to drag myself to the top of the pillar. Seconding the next pitch (the 'Sword of Damacles' into a bolt ladder) I decided it would be faster to second the whole pitch 'Big Wall Style' (as opposed to 'French Freeing' which is the norm). I had also taken the decision back at the car to bring a 'Micro Traxion' instead of my handled ascender to save weight (mistake #2). I quickly got the Micro Traxion jammed against a biner and spent the best part of the next hour (much to Paul's displeasure) trying to un-jam it. On the next pitch ('Perry's Layback') I decided to try and go quickly to make up for lost time (mistake #3). I managed to throw half a quickdraw and a biner over my shoulder into oblivion on my way up the pitch. I waited until we had summited (and I had fed Paul a sandwich) before I broke this casualty to him. Not my finest day.

Nearly at the end of our month in the area, there was one more route we were particularly keen to get on; 'Sunset Strip'. Not in the guide, this brand new line had just recently gone up between 'Millennium Falcon' and 'The Gauntlet', and was getting a lot of traffic from the locals. It didn't disappoint. Easily the best route we'd done in Squamish, and one of the better routes on the whole trip, the line followed flawless hand and finger cracks with bolted face cruxes up 12 incredible pitches (not including the last sandbag 5.9 chimney!).

Squamish was done. An incredible month and some of the most enjoyable climbing we've done. If you want impressive scale, go to Yosemite. If you want impeccable granite and consistent quality, visit Squamish!

Going North

So, it was time to leave 'the Valley' and not a moment too soon. Its very easy to become stale in Yosemite, everything is so readily available but it's far from a normal environment in which to spend large amounts of time.

Back on Highway 120 (the Tioga pass) we stopped off in Tuolumne for some shorter routes on 'Dozier Dome' before heading to the 'World Famous' 'Whoa Nellie Deli' located in the Lee Vining Chevron gas station to sample their legendary Fish Tacos. Very good.

For once, I'd conceded that we could actually do a few touristy things on the long drive North. The first stop (and not very far away) was 'Mono Lake' where limestone tufa grows out of the alkaline waters.

You can barely make it out, but there IS actually an Osprey in that picture (which sat still for a 4 minute exposure). However, there are no fish in Mono Lake and the Osprey travel far afield to hunt, still preferring the tufas on which to make their nest.

One thing you don't find in Europe is 'Ghost Towns'. They're everywhere here (with a particularly modern and creepy one not far out of Moab). Towns, that for some reason (usually the plummet after a gold rush) totally abandon everything and leave it to rot. Bodie is one of the most famous (and well preserved) of its type and thus warranted a day (given we were passing anyway).

Once a thriving gold-mining town (named after the prospector that died wintering out at his find) the town now lies abandoned, except for the tourists with cameras. Quite good (although still very eery).

We hadn't completely abandoned the idea of climbing on our journey North, but arriving in Lake Tahoe we were clearly not going to do it there. It rained, and did so for a good few days. We carried on, stopping for dinner ($4.29 ea. Dennys Chilli) and a movie ($3 ea.) in Carson City.

Driving further North (and watching the 'gas' needle plummet with alarming speed) we approached 'Crater Lake' which partly fills a volcanic crater (a caldera lake) and apparently has startlingly blue water. Unfortunately, the rain clouds had set in and we arrived at the rim to see nothing but thick fog. We returned the next morning hoping for better luck and were rewarded with the odd, slightly hazy, glimpse of the lake between large patches of cloud and fog.

The second attempt to climb was somewhat flawed from the outlook. Smith Rock actually featured highly on our agenda, but given its location in Oregon, and the season in which it is 'in', climbing here just didn't fit with any logical schedule.

Regardless, we were going to climb at least one route (before sampling the local huckleberry ice cream on sale at the climbing shop, housed in an original piece of John Wayne studio scenery). A local friend pointed us at the 'Monkey Face', an easy route which features a bolt ladder pitch, a cave, and a tower summit. What should have taken a very short amount of time, dragged on as the party of 3 took their time, all 3 of them re-aiding the ladder pitch instead of simply cleaning and jumarring. It was hot. The ice cream was good. We skipped the local 'Deschutes Brewery' given the fact we were imminently driving.

Time on our visa was rapidly running out ('overstaying' isn't a good idea if you want to get back in again 'easily') meaning that we had to skip the cities of Portland and Seattle and forge a path straight to the border and Squamish itself.

Typically, the border crossing wasn't plain sailing and we were instantly pulled over due to the combination of our British passports and Colorado registered van. Given our vehicle has a fair few dinks and scratches the border police spent a lot of time trying to find hidden panels where you could store anything illegal (I wonder if they checked the foot-wells for turtles? [if you don't understand this reference I suggest buying the current Alpinist]). After finding no such hidden compartments, the sniffer dog was released and was soon stood straddling our engine. Lots of sniffing again caused a fair amount of interest by the border police but nothing was found and we were finally let on our way into Canada, armed with a 6 month visa and a clear forecast.

(If you haven't yet got around to buying the current edition of Alpinist, the previous reference to smuggling Turtles refers to Turtle Mountaineering Co. outside of Squamish. The article describes how the owner used to smuggle turtles from the USA into Canada using the wheel wells of climbers cars as temporary aquariums!)

Washington Column

The season in Yosemite was clearly coming to an end (at least if you had the heat tolerance of a Brit, there still seemed to be plenty of nutty Yanks climbing in the sun). I therefore suggested we use the last vaguely cool day forecast to do 'South Face' of 'Washington Column'. Three amenable pitches to 'Dinner Ledge', which is as far as you have to haul, and then as many more pitches as you feel like, with an ab descent back down the route. Easy.

The walk in felt nice compared to the epic hike up the 'death slabs' to 'Half Dome'. At least for me. Paul was battling the pig again, but given he insists on carrying at least twice as much water as I tell him we need, I let him suffer (at least this time we had sleeping bags).

P1 was Paul's, and some strange combination between free and aid. I wanted P2, a 100ft C1 corner, to practice my aid skills in preparation for all the other routes Paul is scheming to drag me up. Given I haven't been doing trad for all that long (having spent a fair few years simply seconding Paul), my gear placement is not too bad (not mentioning the odd cam which Paul claims is too over cammed to remove). Having said that, an aid pitch where you have to get gear in every metre or so is a bit trickier, especially given the crack in question was pretty thin and fairly flared. It took our 3 offset nuts perfectly, at which point I started to struggle for gear. Best back-clean one of the offsets. Twice. Here I managed to get another wire in, albeit a pretty poor one (note to self: buy offset cams). For the next bit of gear all I could get in was my reclaimed offset, but that was fine, it was great. Reaching high to get the next piece in, I inadvertently loaded said offset in an outward direction and airtime ensued. The poor nut held, above my back-cleaned gear and the ledge. Strong Fail.

Super Topo defines C1 as:

"Easy aid: All placements are bomber. Little danger of falling except through pilot error". 

Oops. Never mind, with a few tips from Paul to bounce test more vigorously (whilst looking AWAY from the piece) and stand up straight to reach higher rather than sticking my bum out (after the fall my gear placements every 2 ft meant I ran out of gear rather quickly) the belay was (eventually) reached.

The remainder of the climbing to 'Dinner Ledge' was uneventful and we decided to call it a night and enjoy our standard wall dinner of tinned cold ravioli. Mmm. My ability to sleep absolutely anywhere serves well on ledges, or it did until Paul shook me awake in the early hours, clearly distressed, mumbling "Coyote Coyote". I was not best pleased on waking up to find a raccoon (or as we're now told, a Ringtail Cat, equally un-coyote like) perched on our empty Modelo Especial cans.

More aid skills dialled. Canada now awaits (the porta-ledge is purchased and we'll return for something BIG later on). Watch this space.

The Leaning Tower

Not everything can be learnt from a book and despite trying before leaving the UK, Nat and I were far from competent big wall or aid climbers. The most common wall used for learning to aid in Yosemite valley is the 'S. Face' of 'Washington Column', but given its (relatively) shallow angle, and extreme popularity, I was far from keen. After that the only 'sensible' option is the 'West Face' of the 'Leaning Tower', which we picked for our inauguration into the realm of BIG.

As you might of gathered from our numerous previous posts, this was unlikely to go perfectly to plan. Walking in on attempt 1 we found gear littered underneath the steep tower, amongst it a shoe (singular) that clearly belonged to a member of the Italian team shedding gear from high up on the wall. Nervously we walked a little quicker in case they accidentally dropped their haul bag to go with the shoe. Rain had delayed our start and really we ought to have amended our plan.

The route starts with an exposed scramble to the base following a fixed line (which we were both glad to see). Navigating the tricky section, a step around a corner (trivial in most cases), the pig started living up to its name. We began the initial bolt ladders and, simply put, took an age. With the light fading and having made insufficient progress (classic jummaring proving a tough ask for Nat in the steep terrain) we bailed, the light disappearing long before we were back to the initial ledge. Abseiling with a pig on terrain this steep was far from easy.

Attempt 2 was short lived. The haul bag was packed and the ritual evening-before Pizza consumed, yet the heat wasn't subsiding. We sat around until 9pm convinced that fading light would mean fading heat. It didn't (we bailed to Tuolumne for the following day).

Attempt 3, this time armed with a 2:1 jummaring rig for Nat, we made better time up the initial pitches and made it to the generously sized Ahwahnee ledge as the sun swooped around onto the West face. Having spent the morning ascending fixed lines, hauling loads far greater than my meagre 55kg frame could hope to manage and pulling on gear amidst a mess of haul lines, daisy chains, fifi hooks and other things I could barely identify only a month earlier, the subject of much hate ("Oinky, the greedy blue pig") hung beside me, anchored twice to the cluster(f*ck) that was my belay and the 2:1 hauling set-up that reputedly "sung like a canary" when it was working well. To me the demented motion of standing up, pushing down and pulling through slack rope felt unnatural and seemingly the set-up "sung" as well as myself (not very well at all).

I think everyone reading this blog is as surprised as I am to be reading (or in my case writing) a blog about a big wall (nay, aid route!) such as this. We've all looked through the old On the Edge (OTE) magazines, seeing the Huber brothers toting garish Lycra on the sun-drenched granite walls of Yosemite Valley and thought WOW. The sheer scale of the walls dwarf anything of European interest and plant that seed of for "one day". That said, the magazines don't convey the sheer work involved to simply 'exist' in such terrain, let alone 'perform' as the Bavarian duo clearly do.

Stepping off Ahwahnee ledge for the crux of the route; a rising diagonal traverse line reached firstly by a short pendulum, a thin seam proved a tricky start until I was sat on a tied-off sling on a rounded horn contemplating the next moves. The seam was now very thin, clearly wouldn't take a nut and my double zero cams were back at the start of the pitch, far out of reach, the only remaining option being a 'cam hook'. Now, I wasn't aware of the 'cam hook' until looking into this type of climbing. Basically it's a curved piece of iron which offers a thin blade to sit in a seam and either cam downwards (for placements underneath a roof), or sideways (in a vertical or semi-vertical slot). The former was applicable here and I fiddled the simplistic device into position and clipped my right daisy and ladder into it. Given the nature of 'cam hooks' they only work under load so can't be bounce tested, nor can they be relied on for protection (they simply fall out when un-weighted).

Gingerly I transferred my weight over and the less than bomber looking piece flexed a little but stayed put. The next move was once again only suitable for cam hooks and my second (and last) hook was placed and once again my weight shifted upon it. It held as I ratcheted up using my adjustable fifi, reaching a stuck offset nut which offered great relief. But only for a brief moment as I was soon stood up high on our only skyhook (A BD grapple) which (thankfully) led to better gear.

Aid climbing might seem to many in the UK as the realm of perverts, enjoyed only by the likes of Andy 'savour an epic' Kirkpatrick (who was currently resident in the valley), boring and lacking skill. However, they (or you) would be wrong. Aid is a definite skill and boils down to a lot more than simply being able to sink in a cam or nut at the appropriate place. Maybe it isn't for everyone, but don't discount it.

Well there we were, still on our Honeymoon, sat on Ahwahnee ledge. The light quickly fading to a view of the stars above, partially obliterated by the overhanging head-wall, tomorrow's challenge, above. Our fixed lines draped up into the darkness. We both fell into a deep slumber earned through much toil and an insufficient intake of calories found only during this type of climbing.

The morning after and the shade of the West face offered a new light to the situation. Progress was rapid ascending the fixed lines from the previous evening. With every step up the previously awkward etriers efficiency increased and the outrageousness of the terrain appeared to justify the constant toil for upward progress. Belays no longer looked like a mess of rope-spaghetti and began to take on some form of organisation; From left to right, myself, the hauling rig and finally the fixed line for my second (although every now and again I expected to catch her getting a lift on top of the pig).

The previously cursed 2:1 pulley system began to sing as the motion became more and more intuitive (partially helped by a small stance on which to haul from and the ever lightening bags), accelerating "oinky" upwards and with him, food, water and progress towards the ever closing summit.

The 'in a day' (IAD) party that had sped up to us as we barely finished breakfast was nowhere to be seen  below us proving our conclusion that actually, we were doing quite well (having to not only climb and clean, but haul as well). One might even use the word 'efficient'.

At 3pm we topped out amidst a strange mix of emotions. Had the toil been worth it? Well, we had enough food (and plenty of water) to savour another night on the spacious summit ledge where a previous ascentionist had kindly left his overstock of beer, which we gratefully enjoyed before falling into a deep slumber with only the awkward descent (with still big bags) to complete the next day.

Tuolumne

Whilst concocting this trip from back in the UK, one of the reasons we chose the US (aside from the fact that neither of us had previously climbed here) was the vast selection of multi-pitch trad routes on offer. As a team, multi pitching works pretty well for us. With Paul leading the majority of pitches in blocks, our respective climbing abilities are brought rather closer together (and with a following wind we can actually be quite fast!). Whilst climbing in the desert, there were definitely times when I felt less like I was seconding routes and more like I was being hauled up them. However, in Yosemite, with the climbing style offered by the smooth granite which the valley is famous for, I was holding my own rather better (or Paul was struggling more). 

This being said, climbing in the valley can feel very stressful at times. Even the shorter 'day routes' often exceed 15 pitches, requiring early starts to beat other slower teams to the punch (a challenge in itself given how hard it is to get Paul to move out of bed in the morning) and often with complex descents. 

With rest days being spent either in the meadow below El Cap gazing up and wondering, or sat in the Curry Village quiet room reading the 'El Cap Report', the 'Big Stone' seems omnipresent, with thoughts of the challenges of bigger routes never far from mind. With an even hotter weather front moving into the valley, making bigger objectives impossible (a fact proven by the lack of climbers on 'the Nose'), it felt like time for a break from the heat and the stress. I'd also been long awaiting the results of my second professional review, which I was absolutely convinced I'd failed. On opening the email in the quiet room, informing me that I'd (somehow) passed, I burst into tears, with many surprised looks and a few congratulations from around the room.

It was time to head up to Tuolumne for a few days of 'easier (and hopefully cooler) life'.

In our haste to start climbing in Tuolumne, we raced up to Cathedral Peak (getting embarrassingly out of breath at the nearly 11,000 foot elevation), only to get stuck behind a depressingly slow guided party (amongst others). We finally topped out and narrowly made it back to the van before an almighty downpour and thunderstorm.

The guidebook isn't kidding when it says that the 'small puffy clouds' seen early morning are indicative of epic thunderstorms in the afternoons, not good when atop the high granite domes. With this in mind, we spend the next few days shamelessly working our way through the less run-out of the 5 star routes in the guide, making it back to the van before the afternoon weather hit.

One such gem was the 'West Cracks' route on 'DAFF Dome' (DAFF = dome across from fairview), a really nice 5.9 with 5 pitches of quality crack climbing, and a great view of Tuolumne on topping out.

The next route on the agenda was 'Regular Route' on 'Fairview Dome' (another Parois tick). With 900ft of climbing to the summit, this seemed a challenge with a high chance of afternoon thunderstorms once again predicted, meaning we needed to top out by 1pm (at the latest). We got an early start and sped up the route (aiding through sections lower down which were still gopping from the snow-melt) with the clouds visibly growing behind us. We somehow managed to be the only team on the route that day, the forecast clearly putting other (more sensible?) parties off. By simul-climbing the top half of the route, we managed to top out just as the thunder started to crack. We quickly coiled our ropes and absolutely sped down the slabby descent, moments before it got soaked by the downpour. A team of photographers who we found atop the dome casually set off after us, in no apparent hurry... clearly unaware of just how slippery a granite slab becomes when wet.

Tuolumne had been a welcome break from 'the Valley', and strangely successful when compared to the comedy of errors that had befallen us earlier on the trip. However, having ticked off our various objectives and with rest-day activities severely limited, we headed back in search of something BIG.

California Dreaming

Eventually the heat in Red Rocks began to be a problem; limited to 'Black Velvet Canyon' and other shady options we quickly worked our way through the available quality (of which there is much, 'Dark Shadows' wall offering some particularly fine climbing).

The pre-wedding plan had us returning to Zion for bigger things (learning to Aid 101) with 'Tricks of the Trade' appearing as a worthwhile objective. However, en-route we stopped at a Walmart to reconsider our options. The heat was once again oppressive and climbing would have been grim. We sat in the van sulking and trying to make a new plan... heading North seemed to be the logical choice (guided by Mr. Hudon) and with Yosemite being one of the next places on our map and somewhere we were both pretty psyched for, we quickly made the snap decision to turn around and begin the drive to 'The Valley' (stupidly not thinking to stock up on cheap food in the Walmart before departing!).

A quick stop in Bishop for the Keough Hot Ditch springs and a whistle stop tour of the Mountain Light Gallery (if you like fiddling with cameras then take a look and a read) and we were at the base of Highway 120, also know as the Tioga pass, which winds its way through Tuoulmne Meadows depositing you into Yosemite Valley.

Now, we've both been lucky enough to visit some amazing places throughout Europe and now the US, but I think we'd both agree that Tuolumne in melt is one of the most scenic vistas we've yet encountered. Granite domes sit in grassy meadows with intertwining streams, patches of snow and an utter lack of human development (a stark contrast to what is waiting at the end of the pass). Climbing in early season isn't really possible, but a mental note was made of the better looking domes as we passed through far too quickly.

Yosemite, like much of the US (certainly the majority of wilderness areas) are governed by endless rules, the most annoying of which in 'the Valley' pertain to camping and stay limits. For most climbers this means bending the rules as far as possible at the hallowed dirt camp-ground that is 'Camp 4' but due to another rule (not being allowed to sleep in a vehicle), we had to seek alternative arrangements. The first few days yielded a spot in one of the more prestigious camp-grounds (where the rangers take little issue with you, unlike [reputedly] elsewhere).

Our first day wasn't so successful after failing to find the start of 'Serenity Crack' for some time. Finally finding it (and not the neighbouring 'Royal Arches') to be (say it with me): too hot. A brisk walk (via the Mountain Shop to buy the Supertopo guide and bin the Falcon [N.B. Neil - I didn't actually bin your guidebook but I really ought to]) to Braille Book, just in time for a monstrous storm and a good soaking. It was becoming apparent (not a moment too soon) that despite the accessible nature of Yosemite, this place isn't to be underestimated.

From then on our luck improved and we worked our way through the classic, quality free climbs of Yosemite stopping short of Astroman (one of the few routes to be veto'd by Nat). Sadly, as we were enjoying the final pitches of 'East Buttress' of 'Middle Cathedral', we both heard a large crash and looking over to the huge monolith of 'El Capitan' we could see a large cloud of dust near the upper pitches of the 'Muir Wall'. This was quickly followed by the sound of the Yosemite Search and Rescue (YOSAR) chopper and the meadow beneath seemingly turned from green to yellow in an instant as it filled with rescue workers. The climber was dead and others had come worryingly close. Needless to say, the incident left us both very uneasy given our relative lack of experience in the given (big-wall) territory and we continued working through our objectives, carefully and methodically.

Another incident involving a British climber a week or so later tragically cemented the seriousness of the area once more and struck even closer to home, happening on a route we'd done only a matter of days earlier.

Despite this, classics fell every other day (adopting a 1 day on 1 off strategy)... and then there was Half Dome. Every trip has to have a bogey route and it seems like for this one, the 'Regular NW Face' of 'Half Dome' is going to be it:

Round 1: Memorial Day Weekend - epic fail with a very big (haul) bag after a big walk (we were dissuaded from the shorter 'Death Slabs' approach by tales of total and certain death). Multiple parties in-line and a team of Germans showering down large bits of rock. Descent via the 'Death Slabs', which were less deathy than expected. My haul bag did however try to kill me as both shoulder straps snapped at the edge of a large drop. Thanks Metolius (surely if I can lift it, the straps should hold)!

Clearly our approach was wrong. CLEARLY going fast and light ('light is right' - must be said with Paul Reeve type accent) was the way forward. We purchased a day haul bag and planned for an uncomfortable night on 'Big Sandy' (the bivi ledge atop P17 [out of 26]). It'd been baking hot on the valley floor and thus we opted to take every layer we owned, a survival bag but not sleeping bags (face palm anyone?).

Round 2: Approach via the 'Death Slabs' (later that day the lines snapped on a poor victim, letting him slide back down to a gulley, no doubt with a very sore ass). As the sun started to dip, so did the temperatures, and fast (at this point it was clear the hot spell had ended). The five or so layers, survival bag and rucksack around the lower legs didn't prove sufficient and we settled in for a night of abject misery, shivering in a condensing bag of self pity, listening to the wailing sound of rock-fall from the North-West face (I hate loose rock and this sound, first truly encountered in the Dolomites is haunting). At 5AM we awoke and stumbled over to our flaked out ropes beneath P1. At this point we were both whispering to avoid waking up the 'double in a day' team ('Nose' and 'Regular NW Face') from their comfortable nights sleep in comfy looking bags. A faint whistle picked up before I broke our whispering and Nat and I found ourselves once again pinned to the wall waiting for the missile to strike, which it did, frighteningly close to where we were cowering. Tears from Nat cemented the sensible decision that this just isn't the route for us.

Later that day a team dislodged a block described on Supertopo as 'a fridge' (American or regular?) in the upper chimney pitches. It cut their rope and they had a very narrow and lucky escape (without injury). However, vindication still felt like defeat on the valley floor.

The list of free-routes was quickly running out, leaving only large objectives (and some serious learning).

Red Rocks

Post wedding, with Nat still recovering (poolside with some form of cucumber Mojito in-hand) from her 'episode' a few days earlier there was time to go climbing with my Dad before he departed back to the UK. Now, before some of the more established readers jump to any conclusions, I am not a second generation climber. Dad took up climbing after getting sick of driving me around to meet up with various friends to go climbing and really just started truly getting into it as I left for University, finding a peer group of 'older' gentlemen who like to bimble on a regular basis. It's somehow strange that this didn't occur earlier, given he seemingly loved to walk myself and Mum around the lake district with the promise of the end being "just around the next corner". It never was.

Initially Dad had proposed 'Cat in the Hat', a fairly steady climb up 'Mescalito' in the park. I instantly pointed out that it'd be as dull as dishwater and we'd likely have punters abseiling on top of us / slowing us down / generally being annoying. The fate of the climb was cemented when the aspect was checked, South and hence sat basking in the desert sun all day long. Not a chance. The wisdom of UKBouldering.com which I (ab)use for crowd-sourcing useful information on all matters pointed me towards 'Chrimson Chrysalis' as a more 'worthwhile' alternative. However, this time the other side decided it may be a bit of an ask. Finally we did manage to agree on 'Dark Shadows', a shorter offering but with some technical interest and a good reputation (not to mention North facing and with a name that offered some hope of respite from the desert heat).

Now (actually first, sorry Dad but you will be picked on henceforth) my Dad and his peer group love Lakeland climbs, slabby things etc. where terms like 'exposure' are much abused. I got quite frustrated on a previous visit to North Wales for the 'Classic Rock' tick of 'Creagh Dhu Wall'. On reaching the top of the route I grinned as there was a large tree with rap anchors, avoiding the need to bushwack off the top. However, Dad stubbornly refused (role reversal no doubt) my offerings to teach him how to ab safely and bushwack we did. With all this in mind, I found it very amusing to find him grasping at the 6mm (Beal ultralight) Dyneema sling that was equalised for the belay of one of the upper pitches at a vaguely hanging stance. After a bit of sighing, he unwillingly weighted the belay and despite a few protests about the next pitches, we topped out in time to finally have that lesson in abseiling and we were soon back to the floor.

Over the next few days the families dispersed and we once again returned to van life accompanied by the still oppressive heat of the sun. Given just how hot it was, we were limited to 'Black Velvet Canyon' (during development this was referred to as 'Crud Gulch' to ensure nobody made the effort to visit, 'Black Velvet' being far too tempting); no bad thing given the number of classics in close proximity; 'Prince of Darkness', 'The Gobbler' (various variations upon 'Dream of Wild Turkeys'), 'Our Father', 'Triassic Sands' the list goes on and on.

Oddly the climbing didn't seem to captivate either of us wholly (apart from one or two stand-out pitches that were often out of character for the area), crimps, a lack of cracks and an abundance of needless bolts (often placed retrospectively by the first ascentionists to ensure their climbs became popular and remained accessible) just didn't seem to fit with our 'American Dream' despite it all feeling very comfortable.

Annoyingly the heat didn't subside long enough for us to venture onto the 50 favourite climbs tick of 'Levitation 29', the one route from Red Rocks which we were both really keen for. Fingers crossed we can get it on the back-pass.