Sorry for not updating, guys! You see, in the last two months, I’ve climbed on four different continents and haven’t really had time to update my site with my NOC list of V14’s and 5.14’s that I’ve been quietly killing off like a hired rock assassin.

No, unfortunately climbing has been, in many senses, as distant to my life as China. I’ve been preoccupied with much more pedestrian things, such as the 9 to 5 five and also buying and moving into a new house. I’m now a homeowner, and it feels very grown up of me to admit such a thing—but I believe that both work and the energy you put into where you live should always take a back seat to cultivating your true passions in life. This is one reason why Jen and I are hitting the road this weekend, despite the mountain of unpacked boxes and undone home projects under which we currently feel buried. We are going on a mini road trip up to Wyoming for a few days of climbing at Sinks. I’ll be sure to update my blog first thing Tuesday morning with a report of all the routes I DON’T send and other warm-ups that I botch in this sad state of my current form.

But in the meantime, please check out Chris Kalous’s cool new climbing podcast called The Enormocast, which is just getting off the ground. The Enormocast is the latest production to join Carbondale, Colorado’s global climbing-media powerhouse that includes Splitter Choss, Supertopo, Rock and Ice magazine, the 5 Point Film Festival, Alpinist magazine’s editorial arm, a ton of photographers and videographers, and, of course, Evening Sends.

Chris Kalous and I are, in many ways, living parallel lives a decade apart. We’re both Alex Lowe wannabes, we both studied abroad in New Zealand, and we both have deep insecurity issues that cause us to do things like write magazine columns or start podcasts about climbing. This year, Kalous did his 40@40 birthday challenge at Indian Creek, while I did my 30@30 challenge at Rifle. And now, we both play guitar, though Kalous has me sorely one-upped here because he is actually talented at it, and he is also in a rocking band that gets more chicks than a Kindergarten classroom incubator (probably a dozen or so).

Although everyone knows that I have a radio face, only my good friends know what an absolute bore it is to hear me speak in person. My way with words, if it can be said that I even have one, is best if limited to the word processor where I get to “redpoint” my ideas as opposed to just blather them all out, onsight. Thus, with the weight of my fumbling, uncooperative tongue sinking heavily on both my mouth and mind, I was hesitant to agree to an interview.

But Kalous is a persistent little fucker, and he kept nagging me to come on the show, and if there’s one thing that I hate more than embarassing myself, it’s being nagged. It ended up being fun, too, and I think Kalous did a great job with the interview. As opposed to him slamming me with hard-hitting questions like Larry King, we ended up having an interesting conversation about climbing. Mostly we talked about being a writer/satirist, and just a bit about who I am, where I came from and how I got started.

And despite my aural awkwardness, I think the interview came out pretty good. And it was so fun, in fact, that I look forward to going back on the show to talk more about climbing! I mean, it’s climbing. There’s SO much to talk about. I’m not kidding, either. But first, we probably need to settle, once and for all, whose birthday challenge was harder: 30 pitches at Rifle, or 40 at Indian Creek. Kalous says that his 40@40 wasn’t too bad, but Kalous is the Pei Mei fucking Zen master of Indian Creek, so I take that with a grain of salt.

So, check out The Enormocast here, and to get the podcast, go onto iTunes and subscribe to The Enormocast to download all the episodes.

And while I’m plugging, there are a couple other things I want to mention.

The new issue of Rock and Ice is on its way to subscribers right now. It’s our annual Photo Issue, and it contains some of the best, boldest imagery I’ve seen. But it also has my column, “The Tyranny of History,” which talks about the latest happenings on Cerro Torre. So much has already been written about CT 2012, but I hope that my article—which draws from over a dozen different interviews and gets to the bottom of the facts and what has actually happened on this mountain—adds some context and information to this very complex issue. Anyway, I hope that if you’re interested in CT that you’ll read my column and get me some feedback.

As an addendum to my magazine article, I had been planning to write a blog post here about Cerro Torre that I was going to call: “Cerro Torre For Dummies”—because this issue, like so many of climbing’s ethical quandries—is actually quite simple, when you break it down. (I.e.: Nobody approved of the way Maestri’s bolt ladders were installed; the route was done without the bolts; a fraction of the bolts were chopped; and a week later, the route was free climbed without the bolts. Seems pretty cut-and-dry, as in, what the fuck is everyone’s big problem?) Alas, I wasn’t quick enough to get my post up (due to general lethargy, as well as having to buy a  house and then move into it), and Splitter Choss beat me to the punch. But at least I was scooped by another Carbondale outfit and not some butt-sniffer from Boulder.

Also, be sure to check out my friend Justin Roth’s new blog, The Stone Mind, which seems to be offering content that’s a cut above the usual chaff.

Finally, check out these new The North Face short- and long-forms from Camp 4 Collective. Tim Kemple brought me on to help with the writing and story telling of this TNF expedition from last summer to Newfoundland, where Mark Synnott, Alex Honnold, Hazel Findlay and James Pearson were to explore the climbing potential of a rad-looking granite big wall … but instead, were, essentially, hosed by bad weather. We tried to tell a story that is a bit darker than you usually hear told in most expedition videos these days—one where the characters don’t get to climb anything, but then happily go on about how climbing is such a great experience to them. I’ve been in those situations before, and even in the most beautiful, rare places in the world can start to seem depressing and entrapping when you deal with something unpredictable, like bad weather.

Anyway, check them out. I think we’re all very pleased with how they came together, and I look forward to working with Camp 4 Collective on future creative projects such as this. They have a great thing going over there!

Like most people

New this winter from Patagonia, the Northwall Jacket and Pants fuse fleece to soft-shell fabric to create a plush, toasty get-up that excels in the mountains, from ice and alpine climbing to backcountry skiing. Paring the Northwall Jacket and Pants with any base-layer (long- or short-sleeved synthetic or wool; your choice) is a bomber, all-condition combo that is simple, light and high performing. Basically, this is like wearing your favorite hoodie and sweat pants, only built to withstand a winter wonder-hell.

I tested the Northwall outfit last spring by ice climbing melting drools and curtains and skiing backcountry peaks in Colorado. I arrived at summits feeling comfortable: not sweat-soaked and soon-to-be chilled (and likewise on the descent). In deteriorating conditions, from snowfall to spindrift and melt-water, the Northwall did a pretty good job of keeping me dry.

The Northwall is a marriage of Patagonia’s R2 fleece and Polartec Power Shield Pro, a fabric that has been touted by numerous industry reviewers as one of the best soft shells made. I found the Power Shield Pro to be extremely breathable, windproof, stretchy and best of all, very durable—something I appreciate as a climber who has torn through a handful of other soft shells after putting them through just one granite chimney or mixed climb. That said, this stuff isn’t magic: catching a crampon point on your pants will certainly tear them. Power Shield Pro is billed as being “waterproof in all but a deluge.” However, I found that these pieces get wet after a full day in bad conditions. For the most part, water beads up and rolls off the surface—but eventually, it soaks in. That said this jacket and these pants dry surprisingly quickly, certainly owing to the fabric’s breathability.

There are some nice touches: the pants are cut so that they sit high on the waist and fit well under a harness. The pants stay put due to some rather inconspicuous suspenders. Don’t worry. Taking dumps is a (frigid) breeze due to two 12-inch zippers that allow the seat to drop.

For cinching down the hood, the Northwall Jacket boasts a patented Touch Point System, where you ostensibly bundle up by pulling down on some stretchy cord, and then release the cord lock by pressing on the gray section of the hood, where the release button has been actually embedded into the fabric. I thought this feature didn’t work very well. I could never cinch the hood all the way down, and I could always open it simply by stretching it out, without needing to press down on the cord lock (further, you can’t even see the gray swatch from inside the hood). Fortunately, the shape and size of the hood is perfect, and I never even needed to cinch it down anyway.

One last note: Big folks might want to drop a few pounds before dropping these bills, because the Northwall Jacket and Pants are quite form fitting and seem to be made for more trim, athletic builds.

Specifications

• Patagonia Northwall Jacket ($449) and Pants ($399)
• Polartec Power Shield Pro with a Patagonia Regulator R2 fleece.
• Sonic-welded seams with reinforced stitching.
• Helmet-compatible adjustable hood uses Touch Point System (embedded cord locks).
• Pants have zippered drop seat, suspenders and scuff guard for crampons.
• Jacket and Pants fit under a harness.
• Cuffs have a low-profile closure with pleated gusset
• Jacket: 25.8 oz. Pants: 24.2 oz.
• Made in Vietnam.

Normal people don’t get that. Hell, I don’t get that. But there are a lot of things I don’t “get,” but that has never stopped me from writing about it with authority. That’s why I get to be an editor. Unfortunately, one thing that goes along with managing the words and content of an international, award-winning magazine like Rock and Ice is that people expect you to have all the answers.

That said, I’m capable of answering the basics. To wit, some common questions:

What’s “spray”?

A: After elite climbers tick a climb that has appeared in a Climbing Narc News & Notes post, they think that they are now a big deal and that other people will care about them. In order to discourage other climbers from trying this route and subsquently realizing that the route isn’t actually all that difficult, the  climber uses a special high-powered hose to “spray” away other suitors from reaching the route’s base, just like a police brigade spraying away a group of hippie protesters.

That makes sense, I think. But can you please explain the word “redpoint”?

A: That’s what Indians have on their foreheads.

Anyway, it’s a lot of pressure being expected to have all the answers, and sometimes, it comes to a point. For example, just one hour ago, I was debating with my co-workers about whether or not John Bachar “onsighted” the Bachar-Yerian, when he put the famous route up back in the 1980s. Does hanging from hooks to drill bolts disqualify the “onsight,” even though he climbed it without falling or pre-inspection from the ground up?

I know you all think it’s fun to debate the finer points of climbing style on the Internet instead of actually climbing yourselves. I know this because I occasionally check in on that peep show called rockclimbing.com, and its other equally stupid variants, to  see what kind of  myths the”experts” are passing on to today’s newest noobs.

It’s all so nitpicky and silly that it makes me remember, in a weird way, why I climb in the first place. To constantly return to a place of simplicity, where there is nothing but you and the environment—no matter what you are doing in it—hanging, falling, sending, onsighting or brownpointing. It’s all good, as long as it’s all simple.

Just don’t go brownpointing at Indian Creek … not without a WAG bag, anyway. If that place gets shut down, all the gumbies won’t have anywhere to go, and they’ll start showing up at the areas that I like to go climbing. Now THAT would be unexplainable, in the most tragic sense of the word.

This article (modified) appeared as a TNB eBlast four years ago in January 2008. To sign up for the R&I TNB eBlast, click here.

Having just returned

One guy criticized my review of the movie for being “almost entirely subjective”—I thought that was pretty funny.

My younger sister Victoria, who I’m proud to say is the new director of the Reel Rock Tour, was bemoaning the fact that she had to attend her very first Trade Show the same week that her older brother “made everyone mad” with his film review.

Jamie Emerson posted a comment on my Facebook page, which he then decided to use for a post on his excellent hub B3Bouldering.com, thereby creating what seems to have become the de facto rebuttal to my article, and therefore making Jamie and me online nemeses, even though in real life we are friends (and further, even though we seem to agree about more points than we disagree).

I think if I were to re-write my article, I’d make a few points more tactfully. But that said, I stand by what I wrote in terms of my critique of the movie. I thought “The Wizard’s Apprentice” was disappointing. Jamie thought it was the best sport climbing film he has ever seen. We’re still friends. Remember: it’s a movie, which in terms of separating people by their subjective tastes, falls second only to pizza toppings.

It’s funny because, when I wrote it last Tuesday, I honestly didn’t think the review was all that inflammatory. I knew it would get mixed feedback, but what I hadn’t accounted for was the degree to which Adam Ondra has become a true hero to the climbing community, which is to say, he has become a symbol upon which the community has subscribed their beliefs, attitudes, strengths and values that it wants to see reflected in him. Values which may or may not actually be there.

As he said, Jamie’s post wasn’t a review of the movie—or even strictly a critique of what I wrote—but rather an explanation of why he finds Ondra to be such an appealing and important climber. (Let me just state for the record that I think Ondra is the best rock climber in the world right now, and that I find him to be incredibly inspiring. I’m rooting for him as much as anyone else.) One thing that Jamie—who has done probably more than anyone to have deep discussions about what things are graded—writes about is Ondra’s courage in terms of being open and talking about grades.

Aside from reading the comments on Ondra’s 8a.nu scorecard, I still don’t really see how Ondra is all that unique in terms of what he has done for climbing grades. One of my biggest disappointments with “The Wizard’s Apprentice” was that we don’t get to hear Ondra, in his own words, discuss his overall philosophy about how grades factor into the greater climbing experience.

The fact that Ondra thought Chilam-Bilam was probably only 9a+ and much easier than Chaxi-Raxi, but posted both routes on his scorecard as 9b is just one example in which the “Ondra-is-the-most-courageous-person-in-the-world-in-terms-of-honest-grading” argument seems less than all encompassing, in my opinion. Certainly, Ondra has repeated more 9a’s than anyone else in the world, and therefore he has a better idea of what 9a means than anyone else—but just calling something soft or hard on his scorecard, or adjusting the grade by a letter or two, is cool … but is it really all that different from what most people on 8a.nu do?

Anyway, I get the sense that Ondra probably does care deeply about grades—but to what degree? I’m still not sure. I hope that one day someone makes a documentary about Ondra that allows him the freedom to speak openly about this and many other climbing-related issues.

Another point I want to quickly address is that I saw a couple of comments, including on this blog, that criticize me for criticizing Adam for his tantrums, but then not criticizing Sharma for screaming while on a route. Clearly (do I even really need to explain this?) there is a big difference between letting out a try-hard scream while on route and pitching a five-minute shrieking fit every single time you fall.

One response—which I find disturbing, personally—that I’ve heard to my article is the sentiment that to be a really good climber, to be operating on Adam’s level, you need to be so emotionally invested that when you fall, it’s not only understandable but completely acceptable to throw these apocalyptic wobblers. I don’t agree with this, and I think that Ondra is perhaps setting a bad example here.

But again, just to be clear, in no way was I saying it’s not OK to throw wobblers when you fall. I wrote: “I’m not opposed to people throwing wobblers … Releasing pent-up energy is a good thing … Caring deeply about your project [that you curse] when you fall is a good thing because it means you are alive and you feel.”

However, I also don’t think that climbers should be held to different standards just because one person is onsighting 5.14c and the other person is hang-dogging 5.10. If you went out climbing with someone who is “only” a 5.10 or V1 climber, and they had Ondra-style cursing/screaming fits after every time they fell, you wouldn’t praise this person for their commitment and passion to the sport. You wouldn’t laud them for being an inspiring climber. In fact, you probably wouldn’t even go climbing with them.

I understand that Ondra is only 18, and he is still a kid, but I think it’s worth giving him a little nudge (perhaps done a little more gently than I did last week) that says you can still be dedicated to climbing, you can still try really hard, you can still push the boundaries of the sport and you can also be an emotional adult. In fact, that may just make him a better climber in the long run.

That said, I want to make one thing very clear, which I regretfully didn’t make clear last week: I would MUCH rather see Ondra wobble, be a loud character and make John McEnroe look like an unemotional robot then see him become, in climbing videos, another sponsored zombie who sounds like he has been given ambien and told to read some kind of company script that talks about the harmony and spirituality experienced while climbing.

I love Ondra’s fire and I respond to it positively, for the most part. Still, I stand by my original article which was merely an attempt to at least breach the subject of launching titanic wobblers after every sport-climbing fall (the most common of climbing experiences)—especially as these fits, more than anything, were the only “words” we really saw come out of Ondra’s mouth in “The Wizard’s Apprentice.” It’s my opinion that toning it down a bit might not be such a bad thing, and if I’m the only person who seems willing to say that to climbing’s Wonder Kid, then so be it.

Though “The Wizard’s Apprentice” has already received a few favorable reviews online, I, for one, could not have been more disappointed with the final product. The routes shown, the quality of the footage, the long-winded edits, the odd and occasionally annoying narration that often ends up putting words in Adam’s mouth (preventing us from really learning much about what he himself thinks), the film’s off-putting obsession with grades, the sense that filmmaker Petr Pavlíček just doesn’t “get” sport climbing, the fact that probably 70 percent of the 1-hour 45-minute video has  already appeared online in the form of pre-released shorts that I’d already seen, and the fact that movie came out more than a year too late were just some of the reasons “The Wizard’s Apprentice” let me down. (I don’t even get the name: Who is the Wizard and who is the Apprentice?)

I understand how difficult it is to put together any high-quality media feature that doesn’t lag too far behind the fast pace of today’s world … but to release a “definitive” Adam Ondra film now, after his mind-bending last year when he really stepped into form, and NOT include any of those recent visionary and inspired ascents—his onsights of at least seven 5.14c’s; repeat of Chilam-Bilamin four tries; his big 5.15b’s FAs of Chaxi-Raxi, La Capella, and La Planta de Shiva; flash of a V14 at Font, and so on—is inexcusable. Too little too late.

But that’s not exactly what I want to write about today.

If there was one thing in the documentary-style film that really stuck with me—and not necessarily in a good way—it was Adam Ondra’s tantrums that he throws seemingly about 95 percent of the time he falls. No, it literally stuck with me: as in his shrieking, squealing voice pierced through my head as I laid in bed that night trying to fall asleep.

Don’t get me wrong: I’m not opposed to people throwing wobblers when they fall. I don’t really do it myself, but to be honest, I think that probably holds my climbing back more than it makes me a good example. Releasing pent-up emotional energy is a good thing. Caring deeply about your project to the point that when you are on route and in the zone, and this route and moment are all that matters, and—FUCK!, SHIT!—you fall or fail—those are good things because it means you are alive and you feel.

More than anything, wobblers account for some of sport climbing’s greatest stories and our funniest memories.

And that’s the thing: though you’re pissed in the moment, if you can’t find humor in yourself after the fact … Well, that’s when wobbling becomes not OK.

But what Ondra does when he falls goes beyond your standard sport-climbing wobble. Like his climbing prowess, Ondra’s tantrums are in a league of their own. They can best be described as fits—deeply manic fits. His shrieks sound like an amplified baby’s cry mixed in with a pack of rabid raccoons fighting each other.

“The Wizard’s Apprentice” briefly touches upon the topic of Adam’s completely ridiculous behavior, with Alex Huber signing off on it, saying it’s completely normal to drop an F-bomb when you fall. One of the best parts of the film—and one of the only moments in the film that actually reveals something we didn’t already know about Adam—is in an interview with Adam’s mother, who says that Adam has always been a fit thrower, and that when Adam reached a certain age, she recommended that instead of crying he try cursing instead.

But if Adam is the “Apprentice,” then I would recommend to whoever is the “Wizard” that the next time Adam throws one of his apocalyptic fits, he speed lower Adam to the ground, slap him upside the head and tell him to lighten up. It’s just rock climbing.