Lizzy

Last year, I’d already gone skiing twice before Christmas. This year… the difference is like night and day. Despite a record snow year last season (and an accompanying unusually late opening), Tioga Road is still open. It hasn’t been open this late in the last 30 YEARS!!! While this is bad news for the ski season and probably for the California water supply, it does provide a uniquely special opportunity to visit Tuolumne Meadows during the winter (without having to ski in for miles and miles).

Given some rather radical running goals for 2012 (Tahoe Rim Trail 50k and the Evolution Basin Loop), plus my unfulfilled longing to run more in the Yosemite high country, some trail running was in order. A brief search of the interwebs suggested that trail would be reasonably runnable, so off we headed.

For our first run, after a not-so-good night of sleep at the 9000ft bivy, we planned to go from the Cathedral Lakes Trailhead to the Sunrise Trailhead via the Sunrise High Sierra Camp (~12.7 miles). We locked Luke’s bike to a bear bin at the Sunrise Trailhead for the shuttle back to the car (although he was able to hitch a ride). From the very beginning, we encountered a little bit more snow than we expected, but the trail was well trodden until Cathedral Lakes. After that… there was generally one set of footprints, a few sections of snow-free trail, and enough landmarks to use the map to navigate when we needed to. It was a challenging but extremely rewarding run (try running through snow when you’re plunging through crust every step). I put together a little video about it:

Tuolumne Trail Running from Lizzy Trower on Vimeo.

The next day, despite tiredness from running and not sleeping (again) at the 9000ft bivy, we went out on another run, this time an out-and-back from the Porcupine Creek Trailhead to North Dome (~9 miles round trip). There was barely any snow on this run, and it was actually quite warm on top of North Dome.

Luke takes a break from running on top of North Dome.

Silly faces in the woods on our way back to Porcupine Creek Trailhead.

It was a great way to take advantage of the splitter weather (hey, you get to spend more time in the sun when you’re not in the Ditch!) and the miraculously open Tioga Road. I don’t know how much longer it will last, but do be prepared if you go out there, too. Having a map, extra layers, and plenty of food and water were necessities. Above 8000ft, the trail was more often snow-covered than not, and all the creeks we crossed were frozen solid.

Hope everyone is getting after it in the new year!

Lizzy

I have a tendency to forget how awesome a year I’ve had by the time December comes around. I’ve always been one to shoot for the stars with my goals, which often means I fall a little short. I also live with Luke, who, as you may have been reading, has been doing a lot of awesome climbing this year, which may make me feel a little lacking in comparison. But let’s get serious. It has been a really incredible year, I’m more psyched than ever on various parts of my crazy life, and here are some of the highlights:

I trained semi-seriously, pretty much the first time ever, for our Spring Break trip to Indian Creek. I had an extreme lesson in humility when I attempted my dream project, Tricks are for Kids, but made up for it majorly with an onsight of the spectacular Sacred Cow.

Success on Sacred Cow

I had expected April and May to bring a climbing lull, as I prepared for quals and getting married (yeah, good planning, right?), but my advisor and I agreed to push my exam back to the fall quarter and so I suddenly had some weekends free to go back to Yosemite. We hosted the first annual (hopefully) Yosemite Tweetup and it was super fun, despite the exceedingly wet weather. I also managed to redpoint Tales of Power, which was a huge mental victory for me. Plus, two 5.12s in a year is a good year for me! Finally, we attempted to climb Lurking Fear in a push, but bailed in the midst of a crazy hailstorm.

Lizzy free climbing on Lurking Fear

After Tales of Power, my gym motivation was waning and I decided to focus my energy on my upcoming long course triathlon (and getting married, which was a week after the race). It was a great learning experience, where I got the full realization of how much more cycling you have to do, relative to swimming and running, for half or full Ironman triathlons, and how much more I like swimming and running, relative to cycling. So maybe Olympic distance will end up being my favorite…

And then, we got married! All the preparation and planning was crazy and more stressful than I would have liked, but the wedding was beautiful and perfect and it was wonderful to share our day with so many friends and family.

Canada bound on our Honeymoon

After getting home from our honeymoon, I had a week to get ready to go back to South Africa for my second field season. I was not particularly happy about the timing of the trip, so soon after our wedding, but had a much more fun trip than before because of the company (other students to hang out and work with!), the insulated skirt my mother-in-law gave me for my birthday (it’s winter down there), and a cell phone so I could talk to Luke every morning. It’s the small things that make all the difference.

Beautiful views on the Bishop Pass Trail

By late summer, I was both out of shape and low on motivation for climbing, so I rolled with it and got psyched on running. Particularly running on awesome alpine trails in the Sierra. My previous longest run had been ~14 miles at sea level, but over 2 months, I went on 4 amazing runs: 13 miles out-and-back to the ~12,000ft Bishop Pass, 17 miles from Tenaya Lake to Yosemite Valley via Cloud’s Rest (~10,000ft) , 14 miles in Yosemite via 4 Mile, Panorama, and John Muir Trails, and an 18 mile trip along the south Valley “rim” via the Pohono Trail. This all by the girl who really thought I hated running a few years ago. Major thanks and love to awesome running buddies SK and Julie :)

Amazing views from Clouds Rest

Finally, the last couple months have been singularly focused on one of the biggest hurdles of my graduate career: my qualifying exam. I’m happy to report that I passed and am now a PhD candidate! I’m definitely exhausted, but also full of motivation for my research, as well as some major extra-curricular goals for next year, including:

  1. Trip to the Red River Gorge for Spring Break! I don’t want to chase the numbers too much, but it would be great to finally climb 5.12 on bolts
  2. Be able to spend more time in the Sierra this summer, both to climb and for goal #3:
  3. Running to Bishop Pass planted the seed of running the ~56 mile loop through Evolution Basin. It would probably be ~9000ft elevation gain, over three 12,000ft passes, with some ridiculously incredible scenery. I know this is a big jump from what I’ve done so far, so it will require some major training, but I’m super psyched on it.
  4. I ran the TNF EC half marathon in the Marin Headlands again this year, and thought, maybe I should just do the Gore-Tex 50 Mile next year… if all goes as planned, I’ll have already run 50+ miles for the Evolution Loop and there’s so much more singletrack on the 50 Mile than the half!

So there you’ve got it. I think this year has taught me a lot about balancing work and play, following my psych, and becoming a more well-rounded athlete. I think these skills will really be beneficial for me next year and I should have a little more free time (and energy) to blog about it all, now that I’m post quals!

Lizzy

Compared to last year, I was set up for success this year at the TNF Endurance Challenge half marathon. Last year, I was just recovering from some pretty bad IT band issues, but this year I’ve been blissfully (*knock on wood*) injury free. Last year, my longest training runs were 9-10 miles, and there were very few of them. This year, I ran several 13-18 mile runs in the mountains. I have definitely noticed the tradeoff between speed (last year) and endurance (this year), but at least my recovery time after long runs is almost unbelievably fast these days.

We pre-ran the half marathon course back in November

But even with all this, running and trail racing are unpredictable and the race just didn’t go as planned. To make a long story short, although the rest of my body felt great, my stomach felt awful, which meant I only ate 3 shot bloks in the first 8 miles (including what I managed to choke down before starting) and bonked really hard on the last hill. Although I’d made good time until that point, all I could muster was slow walking (my body really wanted to sit down, so any movement was a victory), and I finished about 6 minutes slower than last year. I was disappointed, but I actually learned a lot through this experience, including:

(1) Sometimes routines that work well for training don’t work the same for racing.

I know most advice out there for racing is not to try anything new on race day. I imagine, then, that the implication is to test everything out while training, then use the same routine for race day. I learned, however, that there’s a bit more complexity. In the past, my pre-race breakfast has been one banana 1.5-2 hours before the start, with ~3 shot bloks 20-30 minutes before the start. However, on all my long mountain runs, I switched to eating a ProBar (way more calories than 1 banana, which was a good thing) and a couple shot bloks. In combination with salt pills taken every hour during the run, my stomach behaved perfectly.

Fast forward to Nike Women’s 13.1 in October: I ate a ProBar 2 hours before the start and my stomach was unsettled the whole race, but I thought it was just nerves. So come TNF race morning, I had a ProBar again. I already told you what happened… So clearly although the ProBar is a great breakfast for a long mountain run, on a race morning, when I’m already a bit anxious and tense, it’s not the way to go.

Solution? I’m not sure yet. A single banana is almost certainly not enough for some of the longer events I want to do. I know a lot of people swear by oatmeal, but I’m not sure I could manage to eat that when I’m nervous. I’m thinking about quinoa with a little sugar and some dried fruit, but I’ll have to think more about the digestive implications. Any suggestions would be welcome!

This sign says 482 miles to Oregon... (this photo is also from November, there were many more people here on race day)

(2) Listen to your body.

If I had just slowed down or stopped earlier on to calm my stomach down and get in some more calories earlier, I would probably have been a lot less miserable, and faster, on the rest of the course. This will probably be especially important the longer I want to run.

(3) Maybe it would be a good idea to use aid stations…

Since I got my sweet running pack, I’ve basically been able to be self-sufficient, which was really important for long runs in the Sierra. I figured I’d just do the same thing about the race, but in retrospect, it would have been a good idea to actually stop at the aid stations. Stopping would probably have helped me actually eat something, plus I could have benefited from drinking some sports drink. On all our long mountain runs, we did actually stop to eat food on a semi-regular basis, so this is probably something to incorporate into my racing strategy as well.

Cloudy, but scenic on our practice run of the course. It was beautiful and sunny on race day - too bad I was zombie Lizzy by this point, though.

(4) Recovering quickly is good for the soul.

I pretty much felt like death after the race. My body was just so messed up from all the exertion with so little fuel. But by Tuesday I was basically back to normal and I had a great 5 mile run on Thursday, just 4 days after the race. I suppose if I just wanted to be faster, I’d be more upset about not PRing, but since I actually want to go longer, I’m pretty psyched about my speedy recoveries. It works for psych, too. After the race, I just felt grumpy when I saw people running. A few days later, I was planning my next race…

(5) Although I prefer trails to roads, not all trails are created equal, and I’m totally a single-track snob.

My very favorite section of the course was the only bit of single-track on the half marathon course, a fun semi-technical downhill where I could just fly by tons of people. I was basically constantly saying, “on your left!” Single-track, with it’s more variable and often more technical terrain, is much more suited to my skills and IT’S JUST MORE FUN. So I can stack the deck in my favor, race mentality-wise, by finding courses with lots of single track.

Anyways, despite my complete nutritional explosion and theoretically disappointing result, I’ve kept a surprisingly good attitude and am more psyched than ever about taking on some much more ambitious and exciting goals in 2012. But you’ll have to wait for my end-of-the-year post to hear about those. Suffice it to say, 2012 WILL BE AMAZING!!!

Lizzy

I’ve recently acquired a trail running addiction. It is very awesome. Apart from the amazing (and exhausting) feeling of covering a lot of distance with a considerable amount of elevation gain (and loss), there are also the incredible views from new vantage points and the solitude of getting away from the parking lots and pavement that most Yosemite tourists limit themselves to.

While researching our previous run (4 Mile Trail to Panorama Trail to JMT), I came across some backpacker and hiker accounts of the Pohono Trail, a ~13 mile section of trail running along the southern “rim” of Yosemite Valley from the parking lot at Wawona Tunnel to Glacier Point. It is much less traveled than other trails (like the trail to Half Dome or the Yosemite Falls Trail, for example) with arguably way more views. I was able to tempt Julie into joining me and we made it into a longer run by taking the 4 Mile Trail down to Swinging Bridge and finishing at Yosemite Lodge.

I think the photos tell the story well, so I’ll just give you a few more details about the run. It was ~18 miles total, with a lot of up (maybe ~6000ft, my Garmin overestimated again, I think), because the “rim” of Yosemite Valley is not at all flat like I imagine the rim of Zion might be (Garmin data at the bottom of the post if you’re interested). One of the best parts was so many different (and new to me) views of El Cap. I wouldn’t say I’m used to seeing El Cap (it still amazes me how big it is), but it was really fun to see it from a whole different perspective. We could really see how tiny the East Buttress (which Luke was climbing) is compared to, say, The Nose. More photos are in this album.

View from the parking lot at Wawona Tunnel. All the tourists who stop here clearly don't know what they're missing.

El Cap from Stanford Point

Lovely portion of trail through the trees.

El Cap (look how little the East Buttress is!) from Taft Point.

El Cap in Profile, from a point on the trail almost at Sentinel Dome.

The lovely view of Half Dome from Glacier Point, which we enjoyed in our zombie-like state amidst flocks of tourists who had driven up here.

Back down at the Merced with very tired legs.

I’m still continuing my self-imposed vacation from climbing. For me, the best way to deal with burnout has always to find something else that makes me excited and throw myself at it. Climbing is great and all, but honestly, running is a way better companion for a mentally exhausting time like this quarter. There’s minimal planning, you can think as much (or as little) as you want, there’s little to no pressure compared to climbing, and the time commitment is generally less and more flexible.

Plus, it’s AWESOME. I’ve been climbing so long now that it’s often hard to recapture the joy and excitement of the beginner, whereas I’m just beginning to realize the fun potential of long trail runs: staring at maps, mentally plotting routes, thinking about super long runs (even though I still wouldn’t consider a road marathon – way too much pavement pounding for me).

I can't get over the incredible view from Cloud's Rest.

So, anyways, here are some of the adventures I’ve been up to:

I’ve already written about running from Tuolumne to Yosemite with SK. It was amazing and I think it’s safe to say I got bitten by the running bug pretty hard after that.

I decided to run the Nike Women’s Half Marathon in San Francisco again this year (last year’s race report). Although I was more overwhelmed (in a negative way) by the commercialization and disorganization of the race this year and the roads were hard on my trail-trained legs, I had a great time and felt way more comfortable with the distance than last year. I could definitely tell that I hadn’t been training speed much, though, as although I had good endurance, I couldn’t get the speed out of my legs that they had last year. But this leaves me plenty of time to work on this before TNF EC 13.1 in early December, when I am hoping for a much more substantial PR (last year).

Finishing NWM 13.1 2011.

Tapering for and running NWM left me itching for more trails, so I just took the week off and hopped right back on the wagon for a ~14 mile run in Yosemite with SK last weekend. We ran from Yosemite Lodge, across Swinging Bridge, and down Valley to the 4 Mile Trail, which is actually ~4.8 miles up, up, and up to Glacier Point (~3000ft of relief above the Valley floor). I tried to run as much as I could, but my legs announced they were still tired from NWM, so I ended up power hiking a lot of the hill.

There turned out to be no water at Glacier Point like we’d thought, but fortunately we had brought just enough to be ok. We took some pictures and enjoyed the scenery while taking in some food.

Yosemite Falls from the 4 Mile Trail

Sentinel Rock, the Cathedrals, and El Cap from the 4 Mile Trail

We descended down the Panorama Trail, which was nice, but nowhere near as stunningly incredibly as the Cloud’s Rest trail (I’m super spoiled now), then climbed back up above the Panorama Cliff before descending to Nevada Fall and taking the JMT down to Happy Isles (which felt way better than on our previous run, probably due to the very different uphill:downhill running ratio). It was a very nice run, and it feels great for 14 miles to not feel that long.

Half Dome and Tenaya Canyon from Glacier Point.

Oh, hello Liberty Cap! Descending down to the JMT on the Panorama Trail.

Looking up at Half Dome on our recovery walk to Mirror Lake on Sunday.

This weekend might be my last reasonable chance for a long Yosemite run this year – once it snows in the high country, it won’t be so smart to be running up there. So I’m planning on running the Pohono Trail, which runs along the south rim of the Valley from Wawona Tunnel to Glacier Point, then descending the 4 Mile Trail. I’ve seen some hikers’ photos from this trail, and it looks like the views will be awesome!

But there’s so much more potential! If I’m still this psyched on running next summer, it would be sweet to do a much longer Tuolumne to Yosemite route, or run from the Yosemite Creek Trailhead to Upper Yosemite Falls to North Dome (and then either down to the Valley or back to Tioga Rd). And those are just runs within YNP, there’s the whole Sierra to explore! I haven’t been so excited about making crazy outside plans in a while, so I know I’m doing something right.

Here’s the Garmin data from last weekend’s run (I think Garmin overestimated the elevation gain/loss by a lot, FYI):

Lizzy

I still haven’t been doing much climbing, but I have been running a lot, especially on trails. With my quals coming up this quarter, I have a ton of work to do (I spent three weekends in a row working at home), and running is a much more compatible way of playing outside right now. Plus you can still have some pretty sweet adventures with running.

I knew SK had done the Tuolumne to Yosemite run before a couple summers ago and I had recently been thinking about doing it myself. During our trail runs in the Eastern Sierra over Labor Day, the subject came up and we realized we were both jonesing to do the run, which meant we could do it together!

Trail sign at the first junction ~2.5 miles in. The mileages on these signs aren't always so accurate...

We woke up early on Saturday morning, dropped off some dry clothes, our extra food, and Keith with Luke at the Crane Flat gas station (they were heading down to climb Astroman) and drove east on the 120 towards the Meadows. The weather report had been somewhat concerning (~20% chance of precipitation and temperatures in the upper 30s in Tuolumne at 8am), but we were greeted with beautiful blue skies and it was already 50 F when we reached the Sunrise Trailhead near the western end of Tenaya Lake. This helped us with our resolve to wear shorts instead of tights, which turned out to be a Good Decision. Getting dressed, putting on sunscreen and bodyglide, and packing our running packs with sufficient food and layers (we each had at least twice as much food as we needed, which seems to be a pattern with us on our adventures) took a while, but we were off and running by ~8:45am.

The trail is relatively flat for about a mile before starting the first climb, which was definitely power-hiking terrain. But I guess we were still moving fairly quickly because we passed a couple parties of hikers on our way up. There was then a downhill section and some more enjoyable flat single track before the trail split for the final ascent up Cloud’s Rest. You can either go up Cloud’s Rest, or pass to the east of it – we’d figured we could always go around if the weather was sketchy, but it was still perfect weather, so up we headed.

Looking back towards Tenaya Lake (where we started) from the final climb up Cloud's Rest.

The view from the top of Cloud’s Rest was amazing. You could see so many of the major landmarks in the Meadows and the Valley, and it was just wild looking down on Half Dome, Mt. Watkins, and Washington Column, as well as across to Tenaya Peak, Cathedral Peak, and the Matthes Crest. It was a good spot to stop a little longer to eat some solid food before we began our long descent to the Valley floor (which we could actually see from the summit!).

Half Dome and the Valley from Cloud's Rest

Summit shot, with Tenaya Lake in the background

Then we were off and headed downhill. You have a lot of elevation to lose from the top of Cloud’s Rest (~10,000ft) to Happy Isles (~4000ft), but a lot of distance to lose it over (~10 miles) and the first half of this (before reaching the JMT) were soft, well-graded trail: very nice for running on.

Joining up with the JMT with its steady stream of Half Dome dayhikers was a culture shock after >10miles of relative solitude on the trail (including having the summit of Cloud’s Rest to ourselves), but most people were pretty nice about letting us pass by. The reactions of hikers ran the gamut from dudes who started running when they saw us running to a couple of folks who gave us high fives. The last couple miles down from the top of Nevada Fall were not the most pleasant conditions – uneven, quasi-paved trail with increasing crowds, but at least gravity was still helping us and we were feeling surprisingly good.

We made it to the JMT!

Looking back up at Half Dome from the final JMT descent down the Valley.

We stopped running at the Happy Isles Trailhead, after about 17 miles (according to the map, or 16.5 according to my Garmin), with 5.5 hours elapsed time and a little over 4 hours of moving time. Garmin says we gained ~3000ft and lost ~7000ft. We each had 2L of water in our CamelBaks, which was just perfect. I ended up eating 2 packs of shot bloks, a couple pretzel sticks, half a small bagel, some dried mango, and a mojo bar. We took electrolyte pills every hour, which seemed to work well – I had no cramping.

We made our way to the Ahwahnee parking lot to retrieve the other car (we had to get the first car from Tuolumne) and commence the car shuttle. Maybe not the most fun activity for an afternoon, but the run was totally worth it. If you’re not up for the whole 17 miles, the dayhike to Cloud’s Rest would probably be pretty sweet, too (~13 miles roundtrip).

It’s been a long time since I’ve posted anything, but I haven’t been doing much climbing this summer. Between major life events and traveling to South Africa for my field season, I’ve been super busy. I don’t really mind the time off, though. It gives me the space to appreciate other activities, like running!

We headed out to Pine Creek Canyon with a bunch of friends for Labor Day. SK is out of commission for climbing right now and had come out planning on going on some running adventures while everyone else was climbing. I got a couple of pitches in, but running in the Sierra sounded much more fun.

Scenery along the Bishop Pass Trail.

During our “warm-up” run on Saturday, which involved ~1800ft of elevation gained (and lost) over 5 miles, we decided to do something less steep for our long run. While I headed out to climb a few pitches in the afternoon, SK went into town and get beta from the local running store. After considering our options, we decided on the Bishop Pass Trail, which would lead us a little over 5 miles from the South Lake Trailhead, past many alpine lakes, to Bishop Pass, where we’d get a great view of the Palisades.

We didn’t exactly get an alpine start, so we ended up starting the run around noon. With the trailhead at 10,000ft the temperatures are great even in the middle of the day, especially since trail initially winds through a forest. We even got an extra “bonus” mile (and ~600ft of elevation gain) since South Lake was so popular that we had to park a mile down the road.

We made it!

The trail almost immediately started heading uphill and I could definitely feel the elevation. We paced ourselves, walking up the steepest sections (especially the stairs, which are not so fun to run up). A couple miles in, I tripped on a root and fell pretty much flat on my face, hitting my knee and elbow pretty hard. Part of me wonders if the elevation factored into my slow response, since I usually catch myself when I trip. I was sore, but I was pretty sure I would just be bruised, so we continued onwards and upwards.

As expected, the scenery was amazing. It being Labor Day weekend, there were plenty of dayhikers and backpackers out on the trail, but they were all really nice, cheering us on as they stepped out of the way. We took breaks every 30 minutes to consume some calories and soak in the views.

The Palisades from Bishop Pass.

Working our way up past the lakes, our eyes were drawn to the steep landscape ahead of us. Where was Bishop Pass and how on earth was this trail going to go up through the steep talus? But impressively, the trail was very well constructed with a nice grade and many (many) switchbacks. The elevation and the sore knee were definitely slowing me down, so I power-hiked up the whole final grade, but I was psyched to be getting close. And then, finally, there we were at practically 12,000ft, the second highest I’ve ever gotten under my own power (the highest was the summit of Clyde Minaret, last Labor Day with SK).

The way back down was really fun – very runnable (but not super fast, since the ground is anything but smooth and flat) and we were just psyched to be out there. We made it back to the car after about 3.5 hours of running (and hiking), not including our rest breaks, after a total of 13 miles and 2700 ft of elevation gain. We took off our shoes, rinsed our feet in the super cold creek by the car (which was great) and headed back down to Bishop to shower.

Looking back down at the way we came.

We were all the way up there!

Definitely a day well spent and I’d totally recommend the trail as a “rest day” run or dayhike if you’re around Bishop in the summer. You’ll be happy to be moving light and fast up there with just a camelbak and some shot bloks as you pass all the backpackers.

Man, my two upcoming half marathons are going to be easy in comparison – less elevation gain and they’re practically at sea level! But they won’t be as alpine and that is certainly a loss.

Anyone else have recommended trail runs near climbing areas in California? We’re thinking about doing the Tuolumne to Yosemite run…

Post-run feet

It’s been pretty quiet here at Dream in Vertical recently, but for good reason – check it out:

Photography by Mark Gsellman

Thank you to all our family and friends who have given us their love and support, especially in the crazy last year of planning!

Lizzy + Luke

P.S. More rock climbing coming soon…

This past weekend, Luke and I decided to climb Lurking Fear, a ~20 pitch route on the Southwest Face of El Capitan. The upper pitches are on the slabby side, so most advice was to travel light, because hauling would be bad on the upper part of the route. We decided to fix ropes up to the top of pitch 5 on our first day and then blast up the second day with light bivy gear. We were confident that we could at least make it to Thanksgiving Ledge (top of pitch 17), and possibly even top out.

As planned, we woke up before 5am and Luke was starting to lead pitch 6 before 7am. We were doing well until the 12th pitch. It started getting particularly cold and windy while Luke lead the pitch, and by the time I was finishing jugging it, it had started pouring (rain + hail) and the rock was running with water. Luke had already started short-fixing the 13th pitch, in an effort to get us moving towards shelter on Thanksgiving Ledge, so he had to finish and rap the pitch before we could start down. The weather continued to pound us as we went down, but we made it safely to the ground and retreated to the dry comfort of the truck.

It was disappointing because we’d been making good enough time to easily make Thanksgiving: we started rapping around 4pm, so we would have still had ~4 hours of daylight to climb the remaining 4 pitches of mostly free-climb-able terrain in good weather. However, it was also a huge learning experience for both of us. Here are some of the key lessons that stood out to me:

Looking across the Valley at Middle Cathedral Rock from the top of pitch 3.

(1) Be prepared.

We thought we were pretty well prepared (some bivy gear, small stove, plenty of food/water, extra layers), but we ended up facing some conditions we hadn’t anticipated. When you’re expecting a nice, sunny day and end up getting pounded with hail and wind, you’ll need all those extra layers (and be glad you’re not wearing cotton). It took us around 4 hours to rappel down from pitch 13 (and then another hour to get back to the car), and that was a long, cold time, even wearing all our layers (I was wearing a technical t-shirt, my R1, my nano-puff, my soft shell, and Luke’s nano-puff, and I was still fairly chilly). If we’d decided to continue, it still would have been several long, cold hours until we made it to the cave on Thanksgiving Ledge. Whether you’re rappelling or pushing upwards, one person will often be hanging around at a belay, getting cold.

The bottom line is: climbing long routes in Yosemite might feel like vertical cragging when the weather is nice, but you’re still in the mountains, crazy stuff can happen, and you need to be prepared in case you start having an epic. It’s even more important when you’re planning on moving fast rather than going more slowly with a portaledge and extra food/water/gear.

Lizzy following (not jugging) pitch 5 on our first day.

(2) Practice makes perfect.

Aid climbing is already a slower process than free climbing, so being efficient becomes even more important. On our first day, I had to take many breaks jugging up fixed lines to adjust the lengths of my footloops and daisy chains, or to rest my arms. By the later pitches on our second day, I had my technique down and I only needed to stop to clean gear. Little things like figuring out the most efficient way to transfer between jugging and anchored in to the belay (and vice versa) can mean a couple of minutes per pitch, and when you’re hoping to climb at least 12 pitches in a day, those minutes add up. I consider myself pretty efficient and well-practiced when it comes to multi-pitch free climbing, but aid climbing involves more gear and rope management (ascenders, fixed lines, haul bags, etc.) and more awkward situations (like hanging belays) that I’m not used to dealing with.

(3) If you find yourself doing nothing at belays… you should probably be doing something.

Aid climbing may be slow, but when you’re doing a full day of climbing on a big wall, there are almost always things you should be doing. For me, these things include remembering to eat food and drink water, or to put on an extra jacket if I’m cold. When we’re free climbing, we often move quickly enough that I won’t bother to put on an extra layer because it’ll only be minutes until I’m climbing again. However, when it could be a long time, it’s worth it to tie off the belay device for a second and throw on an extra jacket to avoid getting cold in the first place. There’s also rope stacking, gear organizing, etc.

Nice folks let us pass them at the pitch 5 belay in the morning. Thanks!

(4) Take the extra time to double check everything.

Climbing is dangerous. We all know that. When you’re way up on a big wall, there are tons of opportunities to accidentally drop things (including important things, like the rack, the haul bag, your belay device…), or forget to be attached with at least 2 points at all times. It’s worth it to double check everything. These are all things we do when we’re on a multi-pitch free climb, but on a steep, exposed route like a big wall aid climb, I’ve found that being deliberate and mindful about double-checking everything helped calm some of my nerves.

Accidentally dropping gear sucks for you and any parties below you. When I’m cleaning gear, I make sure to check that the piece is actually clipped onto my gear loop, either visually or by giving it a sharp tug. When we’re transferring gear between us, we always confirm with a  “got it?” “got.” before letting go of anything.

When we were bailing, we always pre-rigged my belay device on the rope before Luke rapped (the ropes were wet and heavy, and my hands were cold and clumsy) and he fire-manned me while I rapped second with the haulbag. It’s easy to make mistakes when you’re cold and in a rush to get somewhere (like the ground…) and doing this allowed us to make sure both of our belay devices were set up right and locked before we started the next rap.

Luke pulling over a roof on pitch 10/11 (linked by accident because the pitch 10 belay is crappy) before the weather really sets in.

(5) Memories of suffering fade fast, and that’s good.

Waiting at a hanging rap station, trying to stay away from the stream of water pouring down the wall next to me, I told myself that this was it, I was not going to try to climb El Cap again – I would be satisfied with single pitch projects (the only other route I’d tried, several years ago, it was insanely hot, and we only made it 4 pitches up the Nose before deciding we didn’t have enough water). Less than 24 hours later, we were already discussing what our next attempted El Cap route would be and (hopefully) what would make it less epic. (Salathe? Nose? West Face?)

I’m sure if I told this to my shivering self mid-epic, I would have been outraged. But really, if I let a little epic scare me away from future adventures, that would be pretty sad. Yes, I may have been uncomfortably cold and not having tons of fun up there, but we were safe. We did nothing wrong except maybe not checking the weather report the night before (instead of 2 nights before, when it looked great). I’ve learned that I don’t enjoy aid climbing as much as free climbing, and that the exposure of El Cap makes me nervous, but does that really mean I shouldn’t try again? Of course not.

We probably won’t be up on El Cap for quite a while (June is a busy month, then it will be field season for me and High Sierra season for Luke), but if you want more vicarious Yosemite big wall action, I’d recommend reading the El Cap Report.

Lizzy

You know those days when everything just clicks into place? I’ve been having more of those recently

I first saw Tales of Power in the extras on the Sharp End – Madeleine Sorkin and Kate Rutherford were climbing a steep, beautiful thin hands splitter in Yosemite. This is the kind of line I just can’t ignore. My first two days on the route (1 in February, 1 in April) weren’t too successful. Of course, it wasn’t the incredible splitter that was shutting me down. It was the initial flare and the final squeeze chimney. I was facing both mental and physical barriers: fear, intimidation, squeeze chimney technique, wet and slimy rock… a couple weeks ago I wasn’t sure I was even going to go back to the route again this year.

Looking up at Tales of Power.

But things change quickly. This last weekend, after warming up by flailing on Generator Crack and figuring out some better beta for my crux (getting into the squeeze from the hand crack, beta help from Luke and the video of Kate Rutherford), we rappelled down to the base of Tales of Power. I racked up, tied in, and sent my first Yosemite 5.12. At the beginning of the day, my goal was to work on the moves. At the end of the day, I needed to find a new project.

Redpointing Tales of Power is a pretty big deal for me. Not just the grade of the route (only my 4th 5.12), but also the steepness and exposure, and the wide cracks. There were a lot of things about the experience that really intimidated me. But I managed to push past my uncomfortable feelings, and I’m very glad I did. I hope that I’ll remember this experience for a long time to come, that by putting myself (way) outside my comfort zone, I can accomplish things I hadn’t even realized I was capable of.

Lizzy

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

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