I read a book several years ago called "A Million Little Pieces" by James Frey. Despite the controversy surrounding the truthfulness of the events described in the book, it is an interesting and powerful story. It's a story about refusing to be a victim, accepting responsibility and the ability to control your own fate.
I too am a firm believer that only I am in control of my destiny, but I was thinking about all the million tiny things that have led me to certain places in my life.
200 million years ago, sand dunes covered what is now Eastern Utah. Compaction, lithification, erosion, weather and a lot of time created what is known as the Wingate formation. It's a layer of sandstone that splits vertically and erodes slowly. The cracks that form stay uniform in width and have very little flare. In one area of Eastern Utah, wind and water broke through most of the Wingate, as well as the Kayenta and Navajo layers above. In this one tiny area only a small tower was left as the cracks formed and the blocks fell away into the talus left below. The earth shifted, and the lightning bolt cracks on its east face were formed. The cracks shot all the way through and light can be seen from the other side, but the towers stood. What is left is called the North Sixshooter Peak.
Just a few years after the dunes were turning to stone, my mother and father met in Rexburg, Idaho, and another few years after that, I was born into this fine world.
I grew up in Idaho. I lived in Guatemala for a couple years. I went to church, played baseball, had birthday parties, got in trouble, went hiking and camping. I learned so much in school at home, from friends and enemies. I met incredible people and developed a love for nature and being outside. Dad took me rappelling and caving. We climbed peaks in the Tetons. Family vacations more often consisted of educational road trips rather than Disney Land and Lagoon, though we did those too.
In 2005 I was mountain biking one night in Little Cottonwood Canyon. When I finnished riding the trail that night, I met some friends who were "bouldering" on the Secret Garden boulders near the mouth of the canyon.
I joined them for a couple hours and quickly fell in love with climbing on the boulders. It was fun, and it made me strong. Bouldering became my activity of choice over the next few months. I changed jobs, and then quit working altogether. Summers and I travelled for nine weeks in Central America immediately prior to my move to Texas for a new job.
Texas doesn't have good granite boulders like Utah, so If I wanted to climb, I was going to have to learn to clip bolts on limestone. I did, and I loved it even more than bouldering. Texas climbing got me strong, and when I came back to Utah in 2007 I finally realized how much potential Utah has for climbers. Well, I started to realize.
The next year, I started climbing with Alex Meyer. Alex has certainly been my greatest climbing mentor. Aside from showing me the potential for incredible climbing in and around Salt Lake, he showed me trad climbing, got me started buying important gear, and taught me technique. More importantly, he pushed me to climb things that were beyond my current abilities. Alex didn't get me into climbing, but he pulled me into the deep end and continues to push me to swim.
I lived in the wilderness of Arizona for several months, helping young people learn. I moved back to Utah, and I've been lucky enough to live and climb with the Gregories. I've become debt free and able to control almost all limits that would keep me from doing what I choose. Devin almost died, but he's mostly recovered. It's so good to have him back. I love having my friend back.
So here it is, 2009. I started climbing with Adam Wilkins earlier this year in the gym, but we didn't do much until this spring rolled around. Something clicked about the things that Adam and I could climb when we pushed each other. Adam is incredibly strong mentally and is able to focus and pull through the most intense climbing situations. We climbed almost every weekend doing some incredibly epic things that would cause most people to load their pants. Our crack climbing skills increased, and we became mentally stronger.
With a goal to climb 30 routes in three days, Adam and I went back to Indian Creek this weekend. We didn't make our goal. The second day's climbing took too long, and we were only able to complete 4 pitches each as the sun was getting low Saturday afternoon. So we made the decision to climb the North Sixshooter Peak, the one described in the 3rd paragraph of this blog.
Fingers lock deep in the crack that widens to maddening thumbstacks. (1)Only commitment to move on insecure and pumpy locks will get you up.
Relief as the void grows large enough to be filled perfectly by hands.
Bigger and bigger, fists then chickenwing grunting through off width. (2)
Strain for a crimp on the face, pull your body in to find rest.
Belay at the top on tattered webbing and knotted cord. (3)
Skirt accross a sloping ramp and place a stopper. (4)
Reaching high, tips and then perfect fingers with flailing feet.
A rest in a pod and then back to locking knuckles.
Hands are wonderful though the roof is stressful, but only for a moment. (5)
Traverse left again or you'll end up in a liquid sky.
Here the hands are too small for average humans.
But to layback up the diagonal roof is devine. (6)
Pull into the pod. Place blue and gold, pull up the line. (7)
Hands to another roof, the crack is too small for hands.
Expose yourself to the sun, the desert air, the empty space. (8)
Pull onto the face of the climb.
The jams are perfect, but the exposure is airy.
Double cracks provide options. (9)
Fingers and hands and fun scrambling.
Rearrange gear on the sides and enter entirely into the chimney. (10)
Grunt, moving painful inches at a time.
Shoulders and knees leave their skin behind
Cams get stuck between body and rock, pinching, stabbing.
Finally, wider then sunlight and scrambling to the top. (11)
Relax, you're on top, 450 feet off the ground, a thousand feed above the valley. All these things came together to this one final moment. And yet, it's just another tiny piece in the big picture. It's just another tiny piece that leads to another unforgetable moment.
