Making of a Crack Whore

“Do you know what day it is”, Babe asks as we roll out of bed with the sun.

“No.”  

After six days of no cell or internet coverage here in Joshua Tree National Park we are starting to lose track of time; lost in the daily routine of eat, climb, sleep and fuck.  Not necessarily in that order.  This life of a dirtbag climber is a far cry from the corporate office where we would receive dozens of mostly unimportant emails a day from people that sat 15 feet away with no walls in between (I can’t hear you!).

Although Joshua trees exist throughout the desert southwest, there is nowhere else where you will see the concentration of these convoluted and misshapen trees like in the Park.  Named by the Mormons, they grow to over 40 feet in height with no two the same.  Set against a massive collection of granite boulders and cliffs, the Park is a paradise for climbers as well as LA residents hoping to escape the city’s madness.  Unexpectedly, we also encounter a number of foreign visitors to this desert paradise.

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We have spent the several days teaching Babe to crack climb.  She has been joined in this rite of passage by Carl Nielson.  Carl is a young, recent college graduate and professional photographer from the Bay area who has been sport climbing (climbs with bolted protection already in place) and gym climbing several times a week for a little over a year.  At 6’ 5” he is very athletic and motivated.  He wandered into our campsite looking for a climbing partner and eager to learn the basics of trad climbing (providing your own protection while climbing) in the crack-rich environment of J-Tree.  Coincidentally, I had been looking for a Nikon D300 camera and he had one that he was willing to sell for a bargain if I would let him climb with us for a few days.  Uh, sure! 

Neither Babe nor Carl had much experience in the fine art of climbing steep cliffs devoid of footholds and handholds but littered with various size cracks running up the faces.  Crack climbing involves wedging your fingers, hands, toes, feet, elbows, butt or any other body part that might fit into an appropriate sized crack and then loading it with your weight so that it sticks.  There are a few things I do well in life, and crack climbing is one of them.  That comes from 35 years of practice and some heavy dues paying.  Whereas learning to crack climb is typically a painful (literally), frustrating and strenuous experience, once you acquire the skill set it can be effortless.  Yeah, hard cracks can still be a bitch to get up, but often times you are on cruise control and I frequently run it out 50 feet or more on moderate cracks before placing pro. 

The rock here is somewhat rough and flesh eating, so the first thing they learn is how to tape their hands with athletic tape for protection.  We then wander over to our first climb and spend several minutes demonstrating how to jam hands, fingers toes and feet into various size cracks.  A key to crack climbing is not moving a jam once it is set.  Easier said than done.

The routes at J-Tree are notoriously under-rated.  On one of our first climbs I find myself facing a 30-foot ground fall as I navigate tricky face holds to enter a crack system where I can place some decent pro.  There is nothing quite as focusing as lead climbing.  It is a pure reflection of life itself, seen with clearer focus and instant consequences.  Falling is often just not an option.  There are excellent technical climbers who can’t lead anything because they don’t have the head for it.  But I love it, and have always preferred it to the safety of a top rope that going second provides.  The pure focus and problem solving that leading demands transcend everything else in your life at that moment.  It is the most relaxing thing I know to do.  When I hear people talk about climbing being an adrenaline sport I laugh.  You won’t last long on lead with adrenaline coursing through your veins.

Don’t get me wrong; there have been many times when I was thankful to be climbing with another strong lead climber.  John Harlin, Stan Mish, LB, Jon Williams, Dave Hodson and Tim O’Neill have all bailed my ass out before on pitches where I was happy to turn over the sharp end of the rope.  For the next nine weeks, however, I am likely to lead every pitch.  That proves to be the case all six days of climbing at J-Tree.

Babe and Carl get a full dose of crack climbing, often struggling to get up cracks I don’t even bother to protect.  We tackle everything from cracks that will barely accept a finger to chimneys where you struggle up with your knee and hands against one wall while your feet and back are on the other.  

On our next to last day, Babe and I climb the longest route in the park: Right On.  It includes a nasty off-width (crack too big for your hands and too small to chimney) and horrid chimney to go along with some outstanding, fun pitches.  We had already climbed another multi-pitch route earlier in the day and I was intentionally pushing Babe to see how she handled the stress of being high on a wall after a full day of working hard.  She is going to need that resiliency in the coming weeks.  The wind is howling and the sun setting.  Babe is obviously at her limit but refuses to complain or back down.  The view from the summit is stunning as we look out over the park with incredible light playing off the many rock formations and Joshua trees.  Only a tiny percentage of people will ever experience a moment like this, and we are both thankful to be among them.

 Swifts (my favorite bird) zoom by like F-22’s, rocketing right past us with a WOOSH that sounds like they are breaking the sound barrier.  A pair of them decides to mate below us.  The female screams by at warp speed while the male maneuvers in behind and mounts her.  Hooked up, they tumble toward the earth like a maple seed trying to defy gravity.  At the last second they break apart and zoom off.  Really, does it get any better than that!  

Earlier in the week we had tackled a climb with a long, strenuous and hard to protect traverse out from under a roof.  It was an intimidating pitch and I worried about Babe’s ability to follow it so I put her in the middle and had Carl belay her from below while I did so from above.  It took a while, but she eventually joined me at the top.  It wasn’t the first time that Carl was surprised to see her get up a hard pitch.  Although her hands look like they have been put through a meat grinder, her climbing skills have improved by leaps and bounds during our week here after exposure to a wide variety of challenges.  She is gaining confidence and still having fun.  

It is our last day in the park.  Our campsite has been visited by a coyote, desert tortoise, rattlesnake, road runner, large garter snake, chipmunk and thieving squirrels.  Camping during the week we avoid the crowds and all night partying that takes place on the weekend.  Last night we wandered into the town of Joshua Tree for showers and to wash clothes.  There we see the strangest wildlife of all when we go to the only bar in town for dinner.  It turns out to be karaoke night.  Scary!  The 300 lb. transvestite at the table next to us gazes fondly at my Led Zeppelin t-shirt.  He is definitely not the weirdest person in the place.  Hunter S. Thompson had it right when he noted that, “when the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.”  One thing is clear: if you are living in Joshua Tree you probably aren’t going to find anyplace else where you can so easily fit in.

We stop to climb one more pitch on our way out of the park, the classic White Lightning.  I place a stopper and cam to protect the first 25 feet and then run out the remaining 100 feet to the top.  Babe has trouble on the bottom crux and then uses a variety of her newfound jamming skills to wander up the rest of the route with efficiency.  If there are words to describe the joy of flowing up a vertical crack on perfect hand jams, I don’t know them.  What I do know is that of the many things that I love about climbing, pure fun is at the top of the list.