Confessions of a Splitter Addict

Every trip I’ve taken to Indian Creek has been so different, but each is an incredible learning experience for me. There’s something about that place – it’s never quite what I expected, and adjusting my expectations in the face of reality is always a challenging exercise. Instead of writing a play-by-play of the entire trip, I’m going to focus on two routes that, together, really represent my experience from this last trip.

Small Lizzy high on the awesome Top Sirloin (photo by Austin Siadak)

Our first days in the trip went great. I was so happy to be out in the desert, and climbing beautiful cracks. I onsighted a couple of new routes (Top Sirloin and Battle of the Bulge, both fantastic), but generally preserved my skin and energy, not wanting to push too hard and exhaust myself, which I’ve definitely done early on previous Creek trips. We had our first rest day, so it was The Day. We started out at Battle of the Bulge and Luke got on Ruby’s Cafe, which he made look pretty chill until the roof. By the time he finished working out the moves through the roof, it was early afternoon, and time to head There.

There, of course, was Tricks Are For Kids, which I’d been dreaming about for the last couple of months, despite only being able to find one fuzzy picture on the internet. Any route that requires 12+ green camalots was intriguing to me. So we hopped back in the truck drove to the Way Rambo parking lot, and started walking. We walked for a LONG time. And then we walked some more. Probably ~2 miles until we finally saw the right features on the cliff-line. This is approximately when we actually read the approach directions in the guidebook, where we discovered we were supposed to park across the Creek and ford it, instead of walking 2 miles from the Way Rambo parking. Oops.

Tricks are for Kids in all its glory (the line just left of center).

Well, we thought, at least there will be a trail up to the crag, right? Nope, no such luck. Hayden had told me earlier that Optimator was a more fun and better 5.13, but I just couldn’t believe him. I had, after all, been dreaming of Tricks for a long time. So, given Hayden’s warning, it maybe shouldn’t have been a surprise that there wasn’t really an approach trail up the long talus slope to the base of Tricks… he did say it wasn’t the most popular place to go.

I was starting to freak out about actually having enough time to try it (we had walked for a long time), but we were already slogging up the hill and the extremely long splitter was in view. It was beautiful and I was afraid. I quivered at the base. Somehow, Luke convinced me to rack up, since we were here. He tried to convince me that if I did it in 10 takes, it wouldn’t be so bad. He was very patient with me. I finally got up the nerve to touch the rock. I bouldered up the crappy rock step to the base of the crack. I put my fingers in. Sand came out. I placed a small cam. More sand came out. The beginning corner section, which you have to climb before getting to the splitter, looked very long from standing at the base. I pasted my feet on some sandy holds and tried to layback up the awkward finger flare. I shook and trembled and climbed back down to the ledge. I started to feel very silly bringing us all the way up here, if I couldn’t even get myself to climb the initial section. With a lot of encouragement, I dried my eyes and tried again (more sand), and downclimbed again. Luke was, again, extremely patient and understanding as I downclimbed to the ground and curled up in a ball of frustration and sadness.

Long story short… we packed up and hiked 2+ miles back to the car. At least we weren’t late for dinner.

I was quite crushed, as well as embarrassed and frustrated, but there was a lot of trip left and I knew I had to pull myself together and salvage something. Tricks isn’t, after all, the only good splitter in Indian Creek. I came back to reality and realized that, probably, I should do more 5.12s before trying to project my first 5.13 (duh?). Plus I wasn’t sure I could pull together the motivation to try Optimator this trip anyways. Enter Sacred Cow, which SK and S had seen on their Thanksgiving trip, and raved about its beauty. I made a concerted effort to refocus my months of obsessing onto Sacred Cow. Surprisingly, it worked…

Sacred Cow (line left of center, with awesome upper headwall splitter)

After another rest day, partially induced by bad weather, Luke and I got up early and hiked up to Scarface so he could try Death of a Cowboy. By late morning, the rest of the group was arriving and we waved goodbye, heading back down to the car, and drove over to Sacred Cow. My heart was pounding. In many ways, Sacred Cow was the perfect substitute for Tricks: not quite as remote (but still not in a crowded spot, we had the crag to ourselves), not as hard (5.12 vs. 5.13), just as long (160 feet), just as incredibly beautiful (perfect splitter cutting through a steep, wavy headwall). I climbed Fatted Calf as a warm-up, which turned out to be perfect, since it was similar sizes (the hardest part being the big #2 camalots section), but not as steep and half as long.

We moved over to the base of Sacred Cow. It was beautiful and, although I was still nervous, I was in a much better place than when we were at Tricks – excited and hopeful. I racked up – more red camalots and 2.0 friends than for Tricks, which is better for me. The climb started with a couple tough pulls up a 0.5 camalot sized corner, then a flare/changing corner that went quickly to yellow camalots. My confidence from having just done Fatted Calf was key as I placed the 3.0 Friend and stuck my whole arm in the crack to pull around a small roof. Then the hugest jug I have ever found in Indian Creek appeared right before the red camalot roof. I was feeling pretty psyched.

After chilling out and taking some deep breaths, I headed out the roof/bulge, which didn’t actually feel that steep. In no time I was above it, moving quickly through a sharp, slightly smaller (black metolius) corner before a perfect stance at the base of the final headwall splitter. I reminded myself that this was probably the hard part and not to celebrate too early. I started up the splitter, trying to focus on the positive (the green camalots that I’d saved for the splitter are a little tipped out, which means it’s 2.0 friends, which are better and easier) rather than the negative (holy crap the green camalots are kind of tipped out, I wish I had more 2.0″ pieces!!!), in addition to moving slowly and methodically. It took a little extra energy to place the cams above me, but then I could get a break from the weight of the rope  for a couple extra seconds while I climbed up to my piece.

I focused on each individual moment. Even when the anchor finally came in view above me, I forced myself to not pay too much attention to it. I was not really pumped, but I could feel fatigue setting in, so I paid extra attention to each hand and footjam, willing them to stay in place. The crack got a little slabbier and there was finally a wide enough spot to plug in a red camalot. I told my body to keep climbing and made the last couple moves to the anchor. I clipped it. I freaked out.

Psyched that I just freaking onsighted this amazing route.

By the time I got back down to the ground, I was really, really cold – I’d had to take off my climbing shoes to use as an weight when lowering the rope down to pull up a 2nd rope, and the weather had decided to crank up the wind while I was waiting, barefoot, at the anchor.

But it really didn’t matter at all. I was overwhelmed by an incredible euphoric send high, the best I’ve ever had. That day, that route, I broke through so completely. I know this was supposed to be the year of the redpoint project, but there’s something special about a hard onsight, especially when you’ve trained for months, and it’s your hardest onsight (or send of any type) ever. Especially on a route that incredible. I don’t think it’s just the send high talking when I say that it is, by far, the best pitch I’ve climbed in Indian Creek. I’ll probably be hard pressed to beat it (Six Star Crack, maybe?). More than that, I was able to turn an deep low (failing to be mentally or physically prepared for Tricks) into an amazing high, where everything clicked into place so perfectly. Experiences like that remind me why I climb.

You shouldn't believe every plaque you read...

So there you have it – just another average week in the Creek: unpredictable weather, struggling, sending, wondering why I try at all and then remembering very clearly all in the space of a few days. I’m not very good at dealing with disappointment, but I learned in this trip that I could. It would have been silly to just throw away all those weeks of training after one small defeat, so I was able to take my confidence in my abilities and refocus it elsewhere, to re-cast my goal (ok, I can still do Tricks, but when I’m really ready for it) and adjust my expectations on the fly. This is a pretty new skill for me, and I’m so glad to have had the experience.

Lizzy