On the Road: Rock Climbing
Rock climbers call it “living the dream” – giving up normal life to live on the road and rock climb at places all around the country (or the world). Earlier this year I decided that now is the time for me to live the dream, and on August 31 I took the plunge, hitching a ride up to Ten Sleep, Wyoming with some friends to meet up with my road tripping companion, Matt.
Ten Sleep, Wyoming
September 1-3
Matt’s been on the road since the spring of 1999, when he left Iowa to find some real climbing. He and a buddy visited Ten Sleep, inspired by pictures they’d seen in a climbing magazine. His buddy went home to Iowa, but Matt stayed in Ten Sleep. He bought a drill and became a part of the area’s bolting crew, driven by a passion for finding new, unclimbed lines and creating some of Ten Sleep’s classic sport routes like The Insect (5.12c) and The Neutral Spirit (5.12c).
I met Matt last April at Enchanted Tower in New Mexico. He had just returned from a winter spent climbing in Mexico, and I was just getting back into climbing on a rope after a winter spent bouldering. Recognizing a shared passion for climbing and exploring new areas, it wasn’t hard for us to decide that a two-month road trip together would be tremendous fun. I think that my enthusiasm for Ten Sleep when I visited it earlier this year sealed the deal.
Located in the northern part of Wyoming, Ten Sleep seems worlds away from the state’s more popular and well-known crags of Sinks Canyon and Wild Iris. With its ten miles of mostly undeveloped limestone, Ten Sleep Canyon holds the promise of hundreds of new sport climbing routes in addition to the lines that have already been developed. Untouched boulders litter the canyon floor, and tall pine trees line its sides. Ten Sleep Creek runs through the bottom of the canyon, with a number of cool pools perfect for bathing in after a hard day of climbing.
But what sets Ten Sleep apart from other climbing areas in my mind most of all is the eclectic group of people who have been seduced by the canyon’s magic, a magic that brings them back again and again. While our days are spent in typical climber-fashion, pulling hard on tiny limestone pockets, yelling out in both joy and frustration, it’s the nights at Ten Sleep that make the place into something unique and almost spiritual.
Every night this past weekend, Charlie pulled out his guitar, as he always does when the dozen or more of us who have fallen in love with Ten Sleep congregate. As usual, everyone ended up with some sort of instrument in hand, be it a drum or a tambourine, or even simply a bottle and a stick. Drawing from artists ranging from Dylan to Cake to Snoop Dogg, we created our own brand of music, dancing and shouting when the moment seized us. It was almost like watching someone get inspired by the holy spirit to speak in tongues when Aaron or Billy or Meg or Kerry got up and spontaneously started to sing and dance in the middle of the circle.
Come Monday, when most everyone left to go to home, Matt and Aaron and I took a reconnaissance hike out to a wall that has yet to be climbed. When we reached the brilliant white talus at the base of the cliff, I felt as though we’d entered an alternate plane. This otherworldly sensation was only enhanced when we realized that many of the rocks we were tromping across were covered in glittering white, blue and gray crystals. As we hiked back after several hours of exploration, we stumbled upon a teepee frame, the sticks weathered and covered in moss, set in a small clearing alongside a stream. Perhaps the true magic of Ten Sleep comes from the lingering echo of the others who were drawn by its beauty long before the rock climbers came.
Lander, Wyoming
September 6
Matt’s friends from Iowa, Dave and Daphne, showed up unexpectedly yesterday afternoon. They had no idea Matt was here, and he had no idea they were coming. Young and in love, they’re on an extended road trip, living in their truck with their Malamute, Siva, until the money runs out. We killed several hours this morning with them, chatting about climbing since we’re resting from actually doing it today.
Yesterday we climbed with Shelly, a Lander local, and Paul, a road-tripping climber from Austin, Texas, up in the Killer Cave. Paul completed his project, Cartoon Graveyard (13a) with seemingly little effort, though apparently he’d taken a spectacular fall on it earlier this week. So driven was he to finish the climb without falling that he’d skipped the last clip-in protection point – his arms were too tired to stop and pull the rope up to clip it in. Unfortunately they were too tired for him to do the last couple moves on the route as well, so he’d fallen near the anchors – not a dangerous fall, but a nonetheless dramatic plummet some 30 or so feet into the air.
September 8
Last night as we cooked dinner, we watched a low cloudbank creep slowly up the canyon with frosty white fingertips that eventually morphed into a swirling snowstorm. As we huddled in the front of the truck eating, the snow picked up its pace, driving us to seek out the relative warmth of our sleeping bags.
We woke up to find Sinks Canyon coated in a cloak of white, an icy sky of gray clouds dancing between the canyon rims. Matt, Dave, Daphne and I spent the morning drinking coffee and tea while we waited for the sun to make the early winter a distant memory. When we finally did go climbing, we were surprised to discover that about 15 other climbers had also made the trek up to the cliffs, despite the cold. Stiff fingers and a chill wind made for a somewhat short day – it was just too cold to pull hard on small holds, at least for me.
September 9
Clear blue skies coaxed us out of bed this morning to drive up to Fossil Hill, a lesser-known crag in the back of Sinks Canyon. Mostly vertical, Fossil Hill’s crimpy and pocketed limestone walls bake in the sun all day long. While it tends to see little traffic, this crag today drew out a crowd of locals, probably both due to its oven-like temperatures and to the unusually large amount of climbers down at the main climbing area.
Though Fossil Hill is visible from the main walls at Sinks, once we reached the base of the cliff, I felt like I was in an entirely different area. Deer hunters parked in the same pullout as the climbers, jumping from their beaten up pickup trucks in full camouflage to trot off into the brush. Snow still streaked the hillsides, blown into regular patterns by Wyoming’s omnipresent winds. Forested hillsides and a backdrop of treeless peaks were painted against a flawlessly clear sky. The sun warmed us all day, melting the snow into oblivion while we climbed.
I think this next week in Lander will bring with it terrific climbing temperatures – the isolated snowstorm cooled things off just enough to make it feel like autumn. Perfect timing, as we have one more week of climbing here until we make the daylong drive to humid Kentucky and the famous cliffs of the Red River Gorge.
September 11
Last night we – Matt, me, Daphne and Dave – decided to stay in town – in Lander, at our friend Ally’s place. When Ally called us from work and told us to turn on the news this morning, the image of the second plane cutting into the World Trade Center bombarded us, horrifying us as it has horrified the world.
We spent the morning as much of America must have spent it, huddled in front of the television half-dressed, mechanically eating breakfast as we waited for more information. As the day dragged on, we telephoned loved ones and came to realize that answers would not come fast. Late in the day, not really knowing what else to do, we drove out to Sinks Canyon to climb, numbed by the day’s events.
After climbing for a few hours we went back to our campsite, a lovely small clearing alongside the Popo Agie River. The four of us cooked dinner and then ate together standing in a group and staring up at night sky. For the first time on my trip, the Milky Way glistened visibly, a translucent veil stretched across the center of the star-spattered night sky. Several shooting stars caught our attention before one of us observed the eerie lack of airplanes. Tonight was the first time in my adult life that I’ve watched a night sky without seeing the familiar lights of a plane winking along to a distant destination.
September 14
The day of my 27th birthday dawned sunny but quickly clouded over. I woke up late, again at Ally’s house in town, and snuck out before Matt woke up to listen to the news, hoping again for some sort of clarity.
Living day to day is somehow harder now, knowing that people in Washington DC are spending nearly every hour of their lives trying to figure out the right course of action for our nation. Meanwhile, I spent my day – my birthday – sitting by a river in a beautiful canyon, hiking up through a misty, golden-hued autumn scene to a waterfall, and then eating nachos and ice cream at the Gannet Grill in Lander before falling asleep on Ally’s couch watching Good Morning, Vietnam.