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Carter Lake Trail Day Re-Cap May 2012
Our second Carter Lake Trail Day went off with great success. Just under 30 people showed up to help work on the Fawn Hollow Trail. The NCCC has been working in conjunction with Larimer County to make the social trail through the boulders at Carter Lake a recognized portion of the established Fawn Hollow Trail.
Last year we worked on erosion issues and trail re-routing on the main section that links the parking lot with the climbing area. This spring we worked on the steep trail that leads down to the Kahuna Boulder. We created close to 30 stone steps and re-directed a badly eroded section near the Sloper-Chief Boulder. In addition we placed signage around the new trail sections declaring them "Closed for Re-Seeding". We hope everyone respects these new re-routes when they take there next trip to Carter Lake.
A big thanks goes out to our Larimer County Trail Experts Joel, John and Cole. These guys sacrificed their Saturday as well to come and show us the dos and dont's of trail maintenance.
We hope to have a second 2012 trail day later this year to continue working on the section down to Kahuna Boulder. We will send an email around once that date is lined up. Our "Carter Lake Guidebook" is in the works as well, were hoping for a fall 2012 release, so stay tuned for that.
Fight or Flight by Andi Rose
I’m infatuated with the human condition. Who we are, where we come from, why we do the things we do. In college, my fascination led me to study Anthropology and History, and with those came field work, whether sanctioned by professors, or not. Several times, I would go to bars in college to practice “ethnography.” Ethnography. Right. But, admittedly, that’s exactly what I was doing. Dorky as it sounds, I wasn’t a big drinker (I’m still not), but I had friends who were aspiring alcoholics. So, I’d traipse to the bars with them and have a little fun of my own in the form of me, sober, talking to deadly intoxicated, highly candid people, and internalizing and sometimes writing down thoughts they provoked. My weird idea of fun.
Anthropology is a good combination of hard science + theory. It draws a bit from psychology, but uses science and math based experimentation as a backbone, or, shall I say an L5 vertebra. But, because many anthropological studies concern people that are no longer living, there are lots of theories that arise from anthropology disciplines, some which have migrated into collective human knowledge. One of which I feel like I’m defying a bit: fight or flight.
Enter Climbing.
I love to climb. I love the individual and social nature of it. I love how movement based it is. I love how at times it makes me feel as thou I’m dancing, and other times it makes me feel as thou I’m wrestling a 2” midget with a ¼” sharp snaggle tooth trying to chomp into my finger and drag me off the rock or wall. In one second it gives me adrenaline like nothing else can, and in another it leaves me feeling deflated. I struggle with climbing, and not because I have some debilitating disease, because it’s f$%king hard! Climbing has taken me on many adventures, and has weaved its lessons thru lots of years past, and as I keep on getting older, I continue to find renewal in climbing’s teachings.
So, the basic premise of the fight or flight theory is that when we’re threatened, our sympathetic nervous system goes into overdrive with our response being either to flee or to skirmish. Lots of references have been documented, and I can’t pretend to have the data to contend with those. What I do know, is that I am threatened by climbing for all the reasons above. It’s hard and it hurts. Yet, I’m neither fighting, nor fleeing. I am just being. For the past 9 months, I have not been training, revolving my schedule around climbing nor getting stronger. I have also not been escaping from climbing and falling into the arms of running, yoga or any other climbing substitute. I am just climbing when I want and when I can. I am just staying.
While climbing isn’t effortless, staying has its hitches too. It can feel stagnant and dangerous, like hanging out in tree-pose in a murky marsh with crocodiles in it. For a while, staying was very uncomfortable. I felt like I was a student with a million unrequited questions. Should I keep doing this climbing thing part-time? Am I ok with possibly not ever getting better? What does this mean for projecting problems and routes? What if I never get to do that again because I’ll always just be, well, here? No progress felt like purgatory.
I wish I could say I’m completely over my complex with staying – that I’m 100% ok with it. But, the truth is, I’m still struggling a bit with being ok with where I’m at. I have moments when I think about progression in other areas of my life. That helps. I also try to imagine myself as a rock in the sun (perhaps the rock that I’m trying haul myself up!), silent, still, chillin’. But, I have lots of frustrating “why do I do this, again?” moments. I guess if not for anything, at least my arms will remain nice and toned.
And so it is. Our heads tell us lots of things on a daily basis. Fighting or fleeing threat and discomfort is one of them. I’m positive thou, that our mental muscle can find comfort in discomfort. We all have the ability to make our beliefs our reality. And with that, I’m not fighting nor recoiling. I’m ok with staying.
CARTER LAKE TRAIL DAY! Saturday May 5th 2012, 9am-1pm
Come join the NCCC for a day of trail work at Carter Lake.
The main goal is to alleviate erosion on the steep trail down to the Kahuna Boulder.
We need about 20-25 volunteers for a half day of work.
We will start at 9am and end around Noon or 1pm.
Bagels and Coffee will be provided, as well as all the necessary trail tools.
Larimer County will be on hand to assist and direct.
Please bring work gloves, water, and bouldering gear if you want to climb afterwards.
Please RSVP to nococlimbers@gmail.com so we can get an idea of how many people are interested.
The Debauchery of Progression by Chris "Durno" Durnin
Fred Nicole has a saying about how the pursuit of the impossible is a great driving force behind his climbing. This thriving hunger for progression and development within the climbing community is possibly the strongest force in climbing. From this drive the standards of the sport are always changing in every facet of the game. Either on a rope or above a pad the next level is always advancing further and further away from us. This progression is what drives the sport and also those in it. This pursuit of progression also drives the development of us as athletes transforming us from scramblers of stone to ambassadors of a sport and life style.
Photo: (midnight lightning boulder Yosemite National Park)
With such an emphasis being placed on progression, the eyes of most all climbing practitioners are always forward. The allure of what is just past the horizon of possible has captured the hearts of those in this sport. However continued progression can also cast a shadow over the previous accomplishments of prior generations. Though this is a cost of progression in most individualistically driven activities it can also lead to an increase of ignorance in younger generations. A since of respect for these accomplishments can be lost in the waves of progression.
Photo: (Kahuna Roof V10 Carter Lake CO)
With the strength of today’s younger gym climbers it is easy for problems that were once great stepping-stones of advancement to crumble beneath the current standards of the cutting edge. routes that once stood as test pieces of an area have become “rest-day novelty items”. This hurdling of accomplishments places a heavier burden on those graced with the knowledge of the origins of the sport. A responsibility now rests upon the shoulders of these (older) climbers to teach future generations and protect the history of this sport.
Photo: (Pinch overhang V8 Horsetooth Reservoir Co)
There are few places in which the preservation of history is more important than here in Colorado (At least for bouldering). And it is imperative that this information be CORRECT. The history of this sport is already very clouded by the transfer of false knowledge. So please as you enter into a new area of climbing that you check your knowledge and seek out individuals that can bring clarity to how the sport got to where it is.
Photo: (Circadian Rhythm V6 Poudre Canyon CO)
Miramont Crushers: The Next Generation by "Coach" Collin Horvat
The Bristlecone Castle by Ben Scott
Life is a long crazy beast. Friends, Jobs, Relationships all seem to come and go. At moments they feel like they will never end, but looking back on them later in life they seem like just a flicker of time. Some people and things seem more concrete, they don't beam bright and fade away, they will always be there. Bristlecone Pines are thought to be the oldest living organisms on the planet. I find comfort in knowing that they've seen thousands of years before my time, and I will surely be nothing but a flicker in their 5000 year old memory.
Doug standing at the base of a massive Bristlecone Pine:
In the summer of 2010 I was out searching for new boulders when I spied an interesting cliff across the Laramie River Valley. Tall angular walls on green stone sitting like a giant castle on top of a ridge. The potential looked great but it would be almost a year before I could get up close. My friend Doug and I had met back in earlier days, young and dumb, happy and poor, we lived in the moment and took no excuses to get what we wanted. He had moved to Steamboat years ago but we stayed in touch and tried to get together to climb when we could. The Laramie River Valley by Cameron Pass was almost perfectly half way between us. I got Doug psyched on the possibilities of the new cliff and agreed to meet for some reconnaissance.
Bristlecone Castle from across the Laramie River Valley:
That first trip in 2011 was a downer to say the least. We had jumped the gun on the snow and I had assumed the bouldering near the cliff would be better than the cliff itself. So i talked Doug into shouldering foam instead of a rack and off we went slogging up hundreds of feet of snow drifts, talus and deadfall. We reached the boulders and were psyched at first. Tons of huge granite blocs jutted out of the snow and talus everywhere. Rock quality seemed similar to the Gandalf area in the Poudre, so we thought we'd stumbled on a gem. But new areas can seem 5-star at first only to crumble into choss upon further inspection. Landings were weird and scary, starting holds were not there, and the rock quality fluctuated between perfect granite and total crystally choss. We were bummed and tired but decided to drag ourselves the rest of the way north to where the cliff sat. Cresting the final 3 foot snow drift we gazed upon an amazing collection of 100 foot panels and aretes. The cliff was amazing and the bouldering was sub-par. Doug made sure to "told you so" the whole fricken way back down to the trucks.
The rest of the summer was a body crushing fury of development. I spent a lot of time scraping new boulders around Cameron Pass and Mt Evans broken up by route development at the new cliff. Countless days of Doug and I shouldering huge packs full of ropes, trad gear, cleaning tools, drill and hardware for the 45min steep bushwack up to the crag. We had other buddies come tag along from time to time, but Doug and I were commited in our love for this lost cliff.
We developed 7 nice lines that summer including the Golden Arete and Iron Maiden with our friends Jason and Chris. The panel that holds Golden Arete also contains a striking crack line on its right side. A left to right angling splitter lead to an improbable looking roof and a blank looking face above. We threw in a bolted anchor and got to work toproping and cleaning the line. Doug was of course ecstatic to find such a long crack line that appeared to go on all natural gear. I was worried about the crux roof and the face above being safely protectable. Doug being the experienced trad/aid guy denounced my fears by finding an amazing #00 placement in the crux and some other small cams to link the heady face to the anchor. The climb was great for me on TR, but the thought of sacking up above the 00 was too much for me.
Doug Mckee on the outstanding Golden Arete 10+/11-:
Dave Ludders gets an early repeat of the sharp arete Iron Maiden 11+:
Doug kept the redpoint in his sites the whole summer. Definitely nervous about the sharp end but committed to seeing if he could pull off the coveted first ascent. As the summer began to wind down, we were running out of time. Fresh snow was on the Mummies and the thought of waiting 6 months to try the route again seemed heart wrenching. So at the end of September we found ourselves huffing and puffing up that never ending hill again. Slipping on loose sand and scree we yet again wondered what sort of strange psychosis "rock climbing" really was. Check out the video to watch Doug crush the project in his usual way.
Guillotine follows the blue line:
Guillotine 12a FA from BS on Vimeo.
At the end of the day, having a beer and a smoke back at the trucks we reflected back on everything that had happened that summer. Mostly we talked about the feeling of possibility the cliff gave us and the stunning beauty of the Bristlecone Pines that surrounded it on every flank. The sends were great but just being in a beautiful place with good friends and new excitement were the concrete memories. People come and go but some things stick around, like the deep strong roots of a pine tree clinging to an ancient mountain.
-Ben Scott
The Sacred Canyon by Nathan McBride
Since moving to Colorado in March of 2005 I have had the opportunity of climbing in some of the most inspiring places this state has to offer. These experiences always seem to start late Friday night, or early Saturday morning before the sun has come up. The foggy circle in the center of my windshield from a hot coffee, the glare of dim lights from the dashboard, and an engine humming at high speed. I almost vibrate with anxiety for the adventure ahead... or maybe it's just the coffee. All the “what-ifs” circulate in my head as I sip my coffee down to the murky soot at the bottom. Is today the day I send that climb? Will I be able to find the gear? Will the skies stay clear when I'm 7 pitches up the Petit Grepon? Ultimately, will the mountains grant me a safe return? I've always felt if you take care of these places, respect them, in return they will respect you. I have never felt this connection more so than I have in the Poudre Canyon.
In May of 2011 I took a job working at Beaver's Market. It was here that I met a man named Bryan Beaver. Needless to say Bryan is one of the owners of the market, and a climber who spends a generous amount of time in the Poudre Canyon (this is an understatement). Bryan is a wirey guy in his mid-30's who, aside from the scattered grays in his hair could pass for a guy in his 20's; he has a hidden energy that is reserved until he steps out of a car beneath the walls of the Poudre Canyon. Bryan lives just North of town with his wife Kathy and their child, a pug named Thor – the most portable crag dog ever.
I have climbed a handful of times in the Poudre before, but my first time climbing with Bryan was this past summer. It was mid-week on a Wednesday and Bryan wanted to show me a place called Triple Tier, a place I had never been. From the road, we hiked up a winding trail through scree fields and up past 3 towering walls that each sat behind and above the other. These are the Triple Tiers, with the most prominent one in the back, Upper Echelon. As it was still early in the morning with a chill in the air, Bryan decided to head back behind Upper Echelon to a formation of rock called the Sail. The majority of climbs on the Sail face south, towards the sun. We started on a 5.10 and Bryan gave me first lead. As I stood trying to count the bolts before my climb, Bryan offered “I think there's about 8 bolts”. Plus the anchors, makes 10... I brought 12 draws... just in case. Right off the first bolt lies a heel hook to a reachy move above, which gains you the second bolt. Above this are somewhat thin, but very positive holds up an angle that ever so slightly implies a slab. This brings you to the crux, a reachy side-pull crimp that sits out left from a comfortable flake. Pull through this, reaching across to some small edges, and it brings you to the final panel before the anchors. The climb, Velvet Brown, is a beautiful climb in a beautiful area. Sure enough it was 8 bolts plus the anchors, I asked Bryan who put the route up and he replied “I did”. With over 50 established Poudre routes under his name, I quickly learned that Bryan's advice and instruction were undoubtedly valuable.
From that day I spent the entire Summer with Bryan, climbing routes, and scouting new ones. Saturday, Sunday, and Wednesdays, without missing a single week. We lived in the Canyon. It became a ritual; the Smashing Pumpkins album on deck, Thor perched on the center council leaning with the curves in the road as my dog Charlie, panting in the back. The morning sun and the sound of the river. Zig-zagging through talus, remembering all the rocks you step on. The pigeons, hawks, and canyon wrens, the damn rattle snakes and the occasional bear or moose. The canyon always seems peaceful, especially up high above the road when the day is late and the light in the air takes on a golden warmth. Everything seems clearer after a day of adrenaline pumping through your body. Your halfway up a climb catching your breathe, you turn your head in towards the wall and streaks of green and orange lichen come into focus. You can smell a mixture of soil and chalk as you bite the rope to bring up slack to a draw. And the sigh of pleasure as you reach the anchors.
I've always tried to leave as little an impact as possible, and maintain the areas that we use. It's a constant humbling feeling that allows me to feel safe and welcomed, each time I enter the canyon. It has become a place for celebration, a place for challenge, a place for remembering, and a place to let go. When I lost my mother to cancer in August of 2011, I never expected the constant rhythm of a canyon and it's climbing to keep me level and remind me to accept everything as an experience. And a friend to knock on your door and say “lets just climb”. A friend once told me to always live in a place that is sacred to you, and naturally, you will want to take care of it, as it takes care of you. You first have to experience a place, for it to become sacred. So head up the Poudre and let the canyon advocate for itself. I still find myself today either up the Poudre or in the Beaver (there's my cheesy pun quota for the day), and the possibilities for new experiences are endless. The Poudre Canyon will always be sacred to me.
Exploring the Poudre Canyon's Electric Ocean
Looking up from the trail at an amazing line on golden colored rock (Mother Hibiscus Discordia 5.11 A1 visible, Prometheus Rising slightly out of view on the right)
This past weekend, the two ends of the weather spectrum could be found a mere sixty miles apart, typical of the Front Range. I looked forward to Friday when I would attempt to climb Alexanders Chimney into Eighth Route on Longs Peak, a classic line extended into another, to make for one long link-up on ice and mixed terrain – exciting! As the weekend drew near, it was obvious that all hell would break loose in that vicinity and lots of snow would be mixed with lots of wind. As the avalanche conditions worsened on what seemed like hourly increments, we decided on a backup plan, which was to venture back into the Black Lake area of Glacier Gorge, which has been notoriously difficult to access this winter because of downed trees.
Fast forward to 3 am Friday morning: 90+ mph winds around Long's, and 85 mph gusts around Black Lake. Potentially unstable snow on the approaches to both as well as on route with several hundred feet of snow climbing on Lambslide (NE aspect) below Alexanders Chimney; or potentially unstable snow beneath and above West Gully (E aspect) in the Black Lake vicinity. Enter option three: Forget wind, snow, cold weather, ice, misery, and welcome the sub tropic conditions found in the Poudre! Having just met with the other members of the board of the NC3 for the first time days prior, I felt motivated to explore our local canyon, in search for any climbable rock large or small.
After stopping at several interesting looking formations lower in the canyon, I found myself beneath Electric Ocean, unknowingly. In the Poudre Canyon Guide, the area is described as a “forgotten crag... with a good concentration of sport lines as well as a few trad routes” All I knew, was there was a visible cairn off the road and that I was curious to where it lead. The path was faint, but the moment I questioned my location, another cairn would appear! After what felt like a very long climb on loose terrain, a giant golden wall appeared overhead with what looked to be a crack running right up the center! (Pictured above) “Certainly that is the reason for this faint climbers trail” I thought as I moved closer and more and more rock appeared. The trail suddenly branched off left away from the golden wall and so I followed knowing I had all day to get back to the base of this amazing looking line.
Up until this point, I had obviously walked where others had and I wanted to find some virgin stone, the original objective for my Poudre visit. I opted to traverse left across the base of the wall towards what looked to be fourth class terrain and followed a path of least resistance clear to the top of the formation. Alone, with no ropes, climbing fast through loose rock with the occasional easy 5th class move, I felt alive and aware of my immediate surroundings, occasionally stopping to take in the massive void below. While nothing to draw a topo of and post on mountain project, this was my rock and my route and my first ascent adventure. As the upper headwall rolled back into low angle slabs and culminated at a definitive summit, I couldn't believe my eyes. Sure enough, there was a large cairn marking the conclusion of someone's route. Feeling slightly disappointed initially, I then realized how cool in fact this all was! The spirit of adventure and exploration that people have drove someone else to climb upward like me, curiosity driving them with no guaranteed reward. I looked out over the canyon and from that point I could see many more rock outcrops, clear up to Cameron Pass, where the conditions looked similar to what I avoided in RMNP, and my car below, likely a thousand feet or more. I snapped a couple photos, added a stone to the cairn, and headed down a separate, less technical descent. On my way down, I did stumble upon a nice slab wall covered in clean looking cracks, somewhat similar to the Left Book at Lumpy Ridge. Awesome!
Atop Electric Ocean formation looking west toward Cameron Pass
Adding to the Pile
Slab stash!
Feeling satisfied, I descended to my car, totally forgetting to check out the immaculate golden wall that initially intrigued me (turns out this was Mother Hibiscus Discordia, an aid line done by Greg Martin in 1996). Driving back down the canyon, I felt excited with the idea of spending more days in the Poudre, exploring in the trees, and way up high on the ridges for rock to climb!
~ Mike Engelstad
Backcountry Film Festival
The Backcountry Film Festival will be held Thursday December 8th at
the Mayor of Old Town. Doors open at 6:30pm, film at 7:00pm. The
film festival is a 90 minute compilation of the best Backcountry
footage put together by the Winter Wildlands Alliance. It is a
non-profit event, and all proceeds from this years event will benefit
the Be The Match Foundation. Tickets are $10 dollars and include a
New Belgium Beer and one raffle ticket. There will be a Holiday
themed costume contest so come dressed up!