tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27817179699347758082024-03-18T09:56:40.801-07:00Gareth LeahSET IN STONEGaz Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03040791142330373049noreply@blogger.comBlogger41125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2781717969934775808.post-63945977337408533642024-03-12T15:16:00.000-07:002024-03-18T09:56:09.574-07:00Uncharted: Exploring the Hidden Depths of Patagonia's Turbio Valley<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCRuHB3ZK7gnC_M7F4EhqAvtHDAXTkFRJT0S5EiDhFvkA9W7PgLxWtmG4srOsEUH9N1DdUXImvjDIgpY0WYOrfiUpCO2EAhMCbp60MoIZLD9WYQZdN7-z6p4Pq9Q1uY78jdy3GXy80OaKmzuFXXVIzUcbmwb5lv0wXjQbswS7NogkryltplVcxm2Qas8s/s2000/TurbioValley_GarethLeah-30.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCRuHB3ZK7gnC_M7F4EhqAvtHDAXTkFRJT0S5EiDhFvkA9W7PgLxWtmG4srOsEUH9N1DdUXImvjDIgpY0WYOrfiUpCO2EAhMCbp60MoIZLD9WYQZdN7-z6p4Pq9Q1uY78jdy3GXy80OaKmzuFXXVIzUcbmwb5lv0wXjQbswS7NogkryltplVcxm2Qas8s/w400-h267/TurbioValley_GarethLeah-30.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The morning sun dances across the valley's peaks filling the sky with purple and pink hues. Spray from the boat's wake clings to our clothes and the wind drives it into our bones with a frigid bite. We are beginning our journey to the depths of Patagonia, but not where you might expect. Unlike the popular tourist area of El Chalten, we’re on our way to a less traveled part of the range known as the Turbio Valley. Inspired by conversations with Argentinian climbing legend </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Saber de la Cruz,</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> our team of eight relative strangers hailing from the USA, Brazil, France, Chile, Argentina, and the UK - are brought together by a shared love of exploration and discovery.</span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-2486a34a-7fff-856d-7029-eeb3dbe61310"><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">--</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Arriving at the shores of Parque Nacional Lago Puelo, our boat finds its anchor secured to the weathered jetty. As we step onto solid ground, a gaucho in a worn green tractor approaches us, signaling for us to place our bags onto the trailer hitched to the back. With a collective effort, we load our belongings, ensuring they are secure before climbing aboard and settling amidst the cluster of duffel bags, providing us with a makeshift seating area.</span></p><div><span><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTLSh2zWKmi9bnVG6wrBDqT74bejuaOeUUinWhvaGL0R2i_ueyc4kdb_6sU98Lcf-bXJG4wTXFeAZ1DYUOSrt8V8ds5ly7h9oO5PBmHcSxlPFoOo7b08fJzwcgWAxzUMDaPq5hxwYHgwCP2ZBrCtHrnChjwk-kqNr1kfpQHDMx6ouP-NrqmhE_i-K1BAY/s2000/TurbioValley-91.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTLSh2zWKmi9bnVG6wrBDqT74bejuaOeUUinWhvaGL0R2i_ueyc4kdb_6sU98Lcf-bXJG4wTXFeAZ1DYUOSrt8V8ds5ly7h9oO5PBmHcSxlPFoOo7b08fJzwcgWAxzUMDaPq5hxwYHgwCP2ZBrCtHrnChjwk-kqNr1kfpQHDMx6ouP-NrqmhE_i-K1BAY/w400-h266/TurbioValley-91.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /></div><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We cling tightly to the side of the ramshackle trailer which shudders and shakes as we make our way through the woods. Light flickers through the trees, and the sweet smell of wood smoke permeates the air. As we approach a clearing, the rhythmic knocking of the motor slowly rattles to a halt. “Estamos Aqui” beckons the driver through the rusting cab window. Glancing around, we could see four horses bridled to a tree, three dogs sleeping in the shade, and two cows bound to the wooden tongue of an ox cart. “Saludos amigos” sounds from behind us. A short man wearing a sleeveless sweater and a Tyrollean style woolen hat stands in the road. It’s Javier, our Gaucho and his compañero who will lead us on the 2 day horse pack up the Turbio Valley. Climbing down, all eight members of our team help transfer the carefully weighed bags of food, equipment, and climbing gear that will sustain us for the next 3 weeks from the trailer to the ox-cart. Before we can begin our journey however, we must first cross a large open section of the Turbio river that separates us from Javier's ranch where we will pick up a further six horses. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The ox-cart goes first, accompanied by Javier’s compañero on horseback. We watch from the shore as the cows reluctantly pull the cart into the ever deepening water, our bags and their heads barely able to stay above the current. We breathe a sigh of relief as they pass through the deepest section, and emerge on the other side. Using the extra horses that Javier had brought with him, two by two, we mount the horses and take our turn to cross. The water is frigid, even the great height of the horse isn’t enough to keep our legs from getting submerged in the glacial runoff. Once across, we hike a short distance to Javier’s Ranch in the woods where we will complete our final “duffel shuffle” of gear from the ox-cart to the horse packs. </span></p><div><span><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9BQq969M07OhWnGoPl1YIS5aKICgHzySzafAH0xLz81gYHo8BkFtFf7K3NAi81sZGafS9no6DNUjDOlCDPke8UoipRamru0dXoZaFeUDExXqtcnVTV4vUVQvXtyVdj-DROp9R_Thk-ZGFWoww8vDyfPU1fHhhivvynTozg81JrZkufWBaVJETQJjWFd0/s2000/TurbioValley-105.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="1333" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9BQq969M07OhWnGoPl1YIS5aKICgHzySzafAH0xLz81gYHo8BkFtFf7K3NAi81sZGafS9no6DNUjDOlCDPke8UoipRamru0dXoZaFeUDExXqtcnVTV4vUVQvXtyVdj-DROp9R_Thk-ZGFWoww8vDyfPU1fHhhivvynTozg81JrZkufWBaVJETQJjWFd0/w266-h400/TurbioValley-105.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><br /></div><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Constructed with hand milled planks, its faded red paint facade reflects the region's challenging weather conditions, and its aging interior generations of family history. Outside, animal skins of varying origin hang atop the mortise and tenon fence, shrinking and twisting in the relentless summer heat. Unloading our gear beneath the shade of a large cherry tree, we gather on the crooked porch to share Yerba maté whilst Javier fetches the remaining horses. “Maté”, as it is more often referred to, is a traditional hot drink of Argentina. It’s made up of ground Yerba with hot water, and served in a small round cup called a “Gourd”. Using a metal straw or “Bombilla”, each person consumes the cup in its entirety after which it is refilled with water and passed along to the next person. It is the cornerstone of Argentine social culture and a great way to get to know each other. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">After several rounds of maté, Javier returns with our horses and we join him to load our gear into the saddle bags. The process takes longer than expected, and the sun is now at its most suffering position in the sky. Starting so late, our goal of reaching the first Refugio seems grueling and improbable. Making a final check to ensure the horses are loaded evenly, we shoulder our backpacks, and begin the long hike up the Turbio valley.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuiAjz2swgJXDZpSQS2C4epUu4RMGQYGYMwpUrY5WT-hgI0Re25pPenQFbcggsTiCOqj_z4ZKKLmMbJZhUasyNcLnUmscQCow5ldTySjXiAdycI_oR8Xm8xwtaGeF_iLFLdgTg7fhQOuA5bhsxNsx6oKOqdIPn9MNb3FB9u1fMUYUIjq8yspwPKdrRBD4/s2000/TurbioValley-116.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuiAjz2swgJXDZpSQS2C4epUu4RMGQYGYMwpUrY5WT-hgI0Re25pPenQFbcggsTiCOqj_z4ZKKLmMbJZhUasyNcLnUmscQCow5ldTySjXiAdycI_oR8Xm8xwtaGeF_iLFLdgTg7fhQOuA5bhsxNsx6oKOqdIPn9MNb3FB9u1fMUYUIjq8yspwPKdrRBD4/w400-h266/TurbioValley-116.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div><p></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Despite our late departure, our group sets off in high spirits. Taking turns to ride the two horses designated for river crossings, we follow Javier as he leads us along a faint trail that skirts the river. Our expected journey will take us 2 days to reach a simple Refugio roughly 40km up river. From there, the terrain switches from riverbanks and cobble flats, to dense jungle. Unable to travel past this point, the horses will return with Javier to Lago Puelo, whilst our team will continue the remaining 20 km to a final refugio at the end of the valley. </span></p><div><br /></div><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Passing through the old ranch gate, I spend the first few hours of our hike getting to know my new friends and enjoying the unique challenges of the journey. From Brazil there was Jose Luis “Chiquino”, a veteran climber who had been to the valley 15 years earlier and was returning to complete the route. Vianney was from France but now lived in Bariloche as a trekking guide, he and his partner Belen had been the organizers of the trip. Belen Prados was from Buenos Aires, Argentina and worked as a biochemist at the national atomic laboratory looking for ways to create power from bacteria. Standing barely 5 feet 5 inches tall, her backpack towered above her but she didn’t seem to mind. Oscar Nicolas and Andrea Caceres Fonfach came from Chile, mountain guides for a living, they had heard about the trip to the valley through the grapevine. John Collis and Mike Coyle were from the USA. They both worked as guides and had shared time together on Denali. I had hired them as safety consultants for a celebrity TV segment I was producing and we became friends. It was shortly after the TV shoot when they told me about the expedition. Hearing about some of the challenges we would face getting to the valley intrigued me. Never one to miss an opportunity, I asked if I could join them which is how I now found myself deep in the Turbio valley.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYxFPvyEKgixeW_wINTP1nk5IODh-ZaKGTze5c5CI6uOVEz0ZuAuihYoV9FdKcCyeudQDt215XRVeegluTBLpCC6qNLuNXFkxsl9vYUC3szM3ZqPbSOFzkKciVAhJ3SaC4iOpL6xZug6LiXKgWwKPeAzNpNxaEOANdbhlAfIK61TeIWSmf-RttActDP_o/s2000/TurbioValley_GarethLeah-19.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYxFPvyEKgixeW_wINTP1nk5IODh-ZaKGTze5c5CI6uOVEz0ZuAuihYoV9FdKcCyeudQDt215XRVeegluTBLpCC6qNLuNXFkxsl9vYUC3szM3ZqPbSOFzkKciVAhJ3SaC4iOpL6xZug6LiXKgWwKPeAzNpNxaEOANdbhlAfIK61TeIWSmf-RttActDP_o/w400-h266/TurbioValley_GarethLeah-19.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div><p></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The many river crossings on horseback and by foot are both novel and exciting to us all. But as the journey progressed, the trail and crossings became more engaging. The benefits that the horse brought by carrying weight we soon realized, came with their own set of challenges. Ticking off our 3rd major crossing of the day, I crest the bank onto the sand flats above to find the horses tied up and concerned looks on everyone's faces. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“One of the horses fell, another escaped. Javier has gone to look for it” said Vianney. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We had barely covered 20km, and whilst I was concerned for the 1 ton animal that had just used our duffels as a crash pad, this is not the start anyone was hoping for. Roughly 30 minutes had passed when Javier returned with the missing horse in tow. Saddling our backpacks, we continued once again on the trail. </span></p><div><span><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgjv1ClVKT57sbXZ55__H36Fm6yk3ZBUWtPRyhab3Nh29HBTc3Kq39QXHFb8wqIzFUUpc9a2AlBeXt_21aoBk8McUWvHG8O2wakbqdwZMMA5FqMF1YSlZIsPVw3-WaJCV0EV-MFHL9inidY_qsTy7xe0-NmCQMGrmwmjN8qtnH_K0pdG_vvAOjZ8nANtY/s2000/TurbioValley-124.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgjv1ClVKT57sbXZ55__H36Fm6yk3ZBUWtPRyhab3Nh29HBTc3Kq39QXHFb8wqIzFUUpc9a2AlBeXt_21aoBk8McUWvHG8O2wakbqdwZMMA5FqMF1YSlZIsPVw3-WaJCV0EV-MFHL9inidY_qsTy7xe0-NmCQMGrmwmjN8qtnH_K0pdG_vvAOjZ8nANtY/s320/TurbioValley-124.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span><br /></span></div><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Traveling until dark, we fail to reach our planned destination of the refugio and decide to set up camp alongside the river. The flat ground is inviting, and I welcomed the opportunity to remove my backpack which weighed more than my own body. Laying out our sleeping bags, dozens of goat heads and needle grasses make their way into everything. Spending the last of my energy to remove them from my clothes, I surrender to my exhaustion and accept the remaining spikes before falling asleep.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We awake early to the sound of bridles clanging and horses neighing. The day has arrived sooner than anyone would like, our bodies bruised and our legs sore. Javier prepares the horses with traditional furs and panniers whilst the team fixes coffee. With fewer than 15 km remaining to reach the refugio, we are eager to continue our journey and we waste no time in getting the convoy moving once again. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The trail from here consisted mostly of river cobbles. With our heavy packs, they’re awkward on the feet, the horses don’t seem to like them much either. We don’t travel far when we come across our first obstacle of the day. A deep and fast flowing section of river that even the horses struggle to cross. Hesitant to risk the horses in the treacherous river after the previous day's mishaps, we decide to ford the river on foot by forming a tripod shape and holding onto each other's bags. We march in unison into the frigid water. The current is strong and the water creeps ever higher above our waist stealing our breath. Even with our strategic group tactics, the water causes us to stumble and for a moment I fear we’re all going down. Step-by-step, we shuffle our way to the far side and escape without swimming. A few hours and several river crossings later, we reach a fork in the river where we decide to stash our packrafts for the return Journey. Hanging our equipment and supplies high in a small grove of trees, we break away from the river and continue uphill into the woods on a narrow and winding trail which leads to the refugio “Don Ropo'' and our destination for the day. Upon arrival, we promptly drop our bags and assist Javier with unloading the horses. Shuffling the bags from the saddles onto the grass, Javier bids us farewell and heads back to the Ranch where we began, now with all 9 horses. From here on out, we’re on our own and must carry our equipment. As the sound of hooves slowly fades into the distance, we make our way inside to get acquainted with the Refugio.</span></p><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9APZUecqvqmv2npw5KUql5ov6MTr48RtC9MykA2ljPOcGPw1vAMXfeEwuBnLDUpZ0Al5Op2SPVI19S4k1JPhY82bikNDxxBWdevSp8VaPFhp1SOiMYjWb6ygL28r4GlS-RaUQ4PE_mH0BXy7Y_arUVt0NotKMIa8un_D7Vd0t2w1CWwlIj0ge8QdV7uM/s2000/TurbioValley-128.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9APZUecqvqmv2npw5KUql5ov6MTr48RtC9MykA2ljPOcGPw1vAMXfeEwuBnLDUpZ0Al5Op2SPVI19S4k1JPhY82bikNDxxBWdevSp8VaPFhp1SOiMYjWb6ygL28r4GlS-RaUQ4PE_mH0BXy7Y_arUVt0NotKMIa8un_D7Vd0t2w1CWwlIj0ge8QdV7uM/s320/TurbioValley-128.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span><br /></span></div><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Situated in a small clearing, it was rustic and rudimentary. Constructed with hand made planks and held together with a winch cable. Plastic sheets are nailed to parts of the roof and windows, a hasty repair from a previous winter which had now become a permanent feature. Inside was a kitchen with a sink and cupboards, a dining table with 2 benches, a window bench adorned with animal skins, and a cast iron stove which we were told was carried in by horseback. There are images on the wall of a long bearded man in a beat up old truck smoking a cigarette on the walls. We’re told this is Don Chule, a vagabond pioneer of the valley who was highly respected by the locals. Beside the kitchen was a steep ladder that led to the second floor where old carpets had been laid down to create a sleeping area. It was simple living, and we quickly settled in. We celebrated our arrival with hot coffee and a game of Farkle which would become our main source of evening entertainment. </span></p><div><span><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPWP_03sjhennnYmjctIis9E4C6qpaDrxT466ok5KF0kX4S4d9S1yerQYk5uuBnbLfs4jVxHFtFQuXIOApoCxgvS4gJaGenzVJTh94ofjOP4dje_RDNQDZOBaepZzpkGv_oi1XPb0uhaaziGY4gOtMLOCbKjc9Cm80H1cIQMz5Rb9ZCPHJRwjseJ47zBQ/s2000/TurbioValley-127.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPWP_03sjhennnYmjctIis9E4C6qpaDrxT466ok5KF0kX4S4d9S1yerQYk5uuBnbLfs4jVxHFtFQuXIOApoCxgvS4gJaGenzVJTh94ofjOP4dje_RDNQDZOBaepZzpkGv_oi1XPb0uhaaziGY4gOtMLOCbKjc9Cm80H1cIQMz5Rb9ZCPHJRwjseJ47zBQ/s320/TurbioValley-127.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></div><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That night Vianney and Belen take the first shift to prepare a group dinner whilst the rest of the team pack bags for the following day. We still had a 20km journey through what had been described to us by Saber de la Cruz as dense jungle (Selva), and required the crossing of two Tyrolleans to reach the advanced base camp at the refugio “Don Chule”. Loading only climbing equipment and enough food for a day, we staged the bags on the porch and enjoyed our first group dinner together. We laugh, joke, and nerd out over maps and topo’s of the valley late into the night.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The following day we rise before the sun and prepare cowboy coffee on the old stove. We eat a simple breakfast of oatmeal mixed with honey that we found laying around in the refugio before heading out on the trail. We’d heard that finding the trail could be a challenge as it had not been maintained in years. Setting off into the thick jungle, that soon proved to be true. Less than half a Kilometer from the refugio, we found ourselves completely lost in a sea of cane. Unsure of where we lost the trail, we backtrack only to find ourselves where we began. Confused, we make a second attempt and are able to pick up a faint trail by observing man made cut marks on the tree’s. Crossing a ridge, the trail leads us down to a cliff where we come across the first Tyrollean spanning a gap roughly 40m across a torrenting river. With such heavy packs, we opt to attach them directly to the cable and ourselves to the home made pulley in case we get into trouble and need to ditch the weight. Once safely across, we continue through the dense jungle with a saw in hand. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The trail continues through the dense jungle, testing our navigation skills and physical endurance. We push through thick vegetation, fighting against tangled branches and swarms of relentless insects. Sweat soaks our clothes, and the humidity weighs heavily in the air. But we persist, motivated by the promise of adventure and the allure of the unexplored.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As we hike deeper into the Turbio Valley, the scenery transforms before our eyes until we reach a clearing alongside the river which grants our first clear view of the mountains. Towering granite walls rise above us, their pristine surfaces glistening in the sunlight. Waterfalls cascade down the cliffs, creating a symphony of sound that echoes through the valley. We pause to take in the breathtaking beauty, our sense of wonder rekindled with every step. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We drop down from the clearing and continue along the river's edge, arriving at the second Tyrolean late in the day. Slightly larger, it was an impressive 60-meter span over a deep gorge with a log diving board to step from. Equipped with another old pulley, one-by-one we make the difficult hand traverse. As we stand on the far side of the challenging Tyrollean crossing, John tells us that the refugio is just a stone's throw away according to his map. Our spirits soar with the knowledge that our destination is within reach, little did we know that the map John was referring to was an not exact, but a rough guess…</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We pick up a faint trail that skirts the river and heads into the woods. Hiking a few miles up steepening terrain, we arrive at where the refugio was marked on the map. Standing in thick jungle, there is no cabin to be seen, there's not even a place that is feasible for a cabin to be constructed. “Are you sure this is the place?” I ask. “Well, it’s a guess from the other maps…” I could hardly believe what I was hearing. Visibility in the jungle was severely limited by thick foliage, we could spend days wandering around here and still not find it. Frustrated by my team for the revelation, and at myself for relying on others for navigation, we drop our bags and begin scouting in the hope that it's hidden nearby. We searched for roughly 1 hour, but the cabin is nowhere to be seen. In addition, the light is quickly fading and we had not packed sleeping equipment. Hope of finding the refugio had all but vanished, and I called out to the team to regroup and discuss a plan B. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Returning to our packs, a cheer rings out from Mike. “I found something,” he shouts. Excited to see what he had found, we join Mike at a small mound just a few hundred feet from where we had begun our search “Check it out!” Mike says pointing to a tree stump. Leaning up against an old felled Alerce tree were hundreds of hand cut, wooden roof tiles. I reasoned that if you were to build a Refugio in the woods without mechanical assistance, you wouldn’t want to carry material too far. It must be close, but where?</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">With time slipping away, and the thought of spending an open bivvy unappealing, I decide its best to examine all of the information we have saved on our shared folder for possible clues to where the Refugio might be. Made up of miscellaneous images, trip reports, and general findings on the internet, it was a mix-match of data and hearsay. Browsing through, I stumble across a hand drawn map of the valley with the Refugio marked further up the canyon, at the confluence of the river. With nothing more to go off and night approaching, we take our chances pushing on through the jungle. We cover roughly a kilometer when tell tale signs of human passage begin to appear. Reflective plaques nailed to tree’s shimmer with our in the last of the day's light, and we frantically bushwack our way over to investigate. As we get closer, another plaque can be seen in the distance, and after that - one more. I’m unsure whether it was excitement or relief we felt, but what I do know is that we gained a sense of hope and we hurried along the faint trail, guided by the shimmers. Finally, after days of arduous trekking and navigating treacherous terrain, we arrive at the advanced base camp as the sun is setting.</span></p><div><span><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMQFputsh_Q1fQ3qqAoP2g8HTTTu24vuGf6EaCRULDbB_IBHC0rnw2vEMUhgFvGd9PK7C-2se44Y48rDbIoBiy3KWpQ8x22Rvt6GMcuzp8q7h2Zta_Z_Tf_ef6V0lACGSl18W_7tAu8rnYzEofNZIx4r0Q1YF6GxGBmCTXjyzZTXWrQJ-nmQHF2GqVkdM/s2000/TurbioValley-131.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMQFputsh_Q1fQ3qqAoP2g8HTTTu24vuGf6EaCRULDbB_IBHC0rnw2vEMUhgFvGd9PK7C-2se44Y48rDbIoBiy3KWpQ8x22Rvt6GMcuzp8q7h2Zta_Z_Tf_ef6V0lACGSl18W_7tAu8rnYzEofNZIx4r0Q1YF6GxGBmCTXjyzZTXWrQJ-nmQHF2GqVkdM/s320/TurbioValley-131.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span><br /></span></div><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The refugio "Don Chule" emerges before us, a beacon of warmth and solace amidst the untamed wilderness. With weary bodies, we ascend the raised balcony, carefully releasing the worn wooden latch and entering the room. The air carries a musty scent, evidence of its undisturbed state. Exhausted and hunger gnawing at our bellies, we scour the house in search of sustenance, as Saber had assured us it would be available. Amidst the exploration, we stumble upon a package of dried pasta, its sell-by date harkening back to 2006. With gratitude for any nourishment, we prepare a simple meal, sating our hunger before we finally surrender to our sleeping bags and drift into slumber. We have arrived.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">With the sun's gentle touch, we rise, eager to lay eyes upon the vast expanse of the valley for the first time. It stretches out before us, a distant promise waiting to be explored. In the days that unfold, we become immersed in the climbing paradise that the Turbio Valley provides. Armed with binoculars, we scour the landscape, identifying a potential route that follows a mesmerizing granite crack system, leading towards the summit of Pico Tres Negros. With a collective goal set, we dedicate ourselves both physically and mentally to climb the towering wall. Over the course of the next ten days, we revel in the sheer joy of triumph as we climb challenging pitches, and we grapple with the frustration that accompanies setbacks when routes prove more arduous than anticipated.</span></p><div><span><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBVCb7lcMuFeV5mm-VXfb_6LrO27s8bMzBZBaA90U2bWd9cEHC59vac0bdP7JZ9WJuKcsaAN8AfrUS3r7_CAjF0MdMDcT62VHv5dfvWAIrEjCtNIR0l09EcP5_Mkp-ol746w_u15S02Cva9kkFqe01kNE2_EaLF45slOC3-_lnPDm2JzoA7Dd6v4babfE/s2000/TurbioValley-143.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBVCb7lcMuFeV5mm-VXfb_6LrO27s8bMzBZBaA90U2bWd9cEHC59vac0bdP7JZ9WJuKcsaAN8AfrUS3r7_CAjF0MdMDcT62VHv5dfvWAIrEjCtNIR0l09EcP5_Mkp-ol746w_u15S02Cva9kkFqe01kNE2_EaLF45slOC3-_lnPDm2JzoA7Dd6v4babfE/s320/TurbioValley-143.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></div><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The weather, ever capricious in this remote corner of the world, adds its own element of unpredictability to our journey. Rain showers descend upon us, drenching the landscape and turning the once-reliable rock into treacherous terrain. Cold temperatures nip at our exposed skin, testing our mettle and resolve. With supplies dwindling and an impending multi-day storm on the horizon, we come to the realization that our time in the valley is drawing to a close. Though our route falls tantalizingly short, a mere 20 meters from the summit, we understand that safety and prudence demand our descent and exit from the valley.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Leaving the refuge behind, we make our way back to our pack rafts and set up camp by the Turbio IV river for one final night. As the sun rises on the following morning, we prepare ourselves and our rafts for the 40-kilometer journey that will take us back to civilization.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzBXmnJESIga1DwYxZo3cesz7SJgneP1InR0eEwyXM9SZPhdScxO2MYD4RSEwgCcsn1FIPDPaAihuoI0CHmXHtObjHCRhJFwlXqbA5ReXBwTHtQCFqL_YlQRmYxbGrxxz9oCdJT7MJ1Hqwy9vwUUFlOZv21l_9WVEFWgc0VGLp7yG5_fTTXbBa_4w443M/s2000/TurbioValley-273.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzBXmnJESIga1DwYxZo3cesz7SJgneP1InR0eEwyXM9SZPhdScxO2MYD4RSEwgCcsn1FIPDPaAihuoI0CHmXHtObjHCRhJFwlXqbA5ReXBwTHtQCFqL_YlQRmYxbGrxxz9oCdJT7MJ1Hqwy9vwUUFlOZv21l_9WVEFWgc0VGLp7yG5_fTTXbBa_4w443M/s320/TurbioValley-273.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><p></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Despite not achieving the summit we had set out for, a profound sense of accomplishment accompanies us, as does a trove of treasured memories. The challenges we faced and triumphed over have left an indelible mark upon us, serving as a poignant reminder of the indomitable spirit of the human adventure. It stands as a testament to the resilience that resides within us, the awe-inspiring beauty of untouched wilderness, and the profound bonds forged through shared experiences. The Turbio Valley has woven itself into the fabric of our hearts, a constant reminder of the transformative power of exploration and the boundless potential it holds.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As we bid farewell to the Turbio Valley, we carry within us the seeds of accomplishment and the nourishment of cherished memories. The challenges overcome and the obstacles surmounted serve as constant reminders of the power that resides within the human spirit. The echoes of our laughter, the imprints of our footsteps, and the enduring connections we forged stand as testaments to the transformative nature of adventure and the profound impact it has on our lives.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Though we may physically leave the Turbio Valley behind, its essence remains intertwined with our very beings. The sense of wonder, resilience, and profound connection to nature and humanity continue to fuel our insatiable desire to seek new horizons, to embrace the unknown. The Turbio Valley will forever hold a sacred place in our hearts, beckoning us to return to its untamed embrace and reminding us that extraordinary experiences await those who dare to venture off the beaten path.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiubDS3VBLcKGXmuhymHR2zfFoZH3Q33wLfG4R0YPwwe6wI2JlCAfCjjyz0I5_AkM-96MIrzWCFg-3m2uJ3EW1EqupxPupGVxrjID7QkJ_gji47b2qilnnqs4fxleJ-7LNjDmqOJfdXbqIFNh9F5JI1VNqbLf9lXamiEl-NLDCI0PoUh2xa8VH3YH33-Lg/s2000/TurbioValley_GarethLeah-34.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="1333" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiubDS3VBLcKGXmuhymHR2zfFoZH3Q33wLfG4R0YPwwe6wI2JlCAfCjjyz0I5_AkM-96MIrzWCFg-3m2uJ3EW1EqupxPupGVxrjID7QkJ_gji47b2qilnnqs4fxleJ-7LNjDmqOJfdXbqIFNh9F5JI1VNqbLf9lXamiEl-NLDCI0PoUh2xa8VH3YH33-Lg/s320/TurbioValley_GarethLeah-34.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwsje0TnfS8w-v3FmzmhB6k-UOjmQJJjCymcmQsUdxn_0-AzQTK7B3CCQCHulNFAQiKbhyyLAwN9apSE9vIwhMwBAGAGIs36a_PRMykJzTJmE54kfooMt7Tr5BhEwpgmGJbyfb6QZn3A7rp2nbch_p4IKL3vyf69yeFYddz79WR3pEFc5lBorYMspbEy0/s2000/TurbioValley_GarethLeah-35.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="1333" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwsje0TnfS8w-v3FmzmhB6k-UOjmQJJjCymcmQsUdxn_0-AzQTK7B3CCQCHulNFAQiKbhyyLAwN9apSE9vIwhMwBAGAGIs36a_PRMykJzTJmE54kfooMt7Tr5BhEwpgmGJbyfb6QZn3A7rp2nbch_p4IKL3vyf69yeFYddz79WR3pEFc5lBorYMspbEy0/s320/TurbioValley_GarethLeah-35.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1SBKiC8vd7UfyzPxbvZzt4df6w5zJ1sJGFVWHmJY_um3SuA4ARSl2LKb0j2ggWscc55Frmen5CVEddiqfCQUrfYKt6Vqcwghlj3nDT13aA73Cok2mfnkmU3LoJ6Su1t8E8yT00tJ_kP4R6xRIgd-8OoBemqjuKW6KJ3otz7Gbixymwd-ux6-O0K7UAq0/s2000/TurbioValley_GarethLeah-37.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; 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text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwYSSXeTv1v_F1feTSHzQ16bhIOW-mW-3HWecJ8Gj49_10fdk0pb7MHmhffSj6leg93S9o2hjZcRRciXxmeqCuNUw4WdBWZIuSDpkSmaWikUxgrpSoce9va5trqSxiT5JKHJmpMnnZbV1eBSc3DvzuZ_8f79LqI6RbuyoSH-tPTPIaasCD_1Yy0aE_Opc/s2000/TurbioValley-149.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwYSSXeTv1v_F1feTSHzQ16bhIOW-mW-3HWecJ8Gj49_10fdk0pb7MHmhffSj6leg93S9o2hjZcRRciXxmeqCuNUw4WdBWZIuSDpkSmaWikUxgrpSoce9va5trqSxiT5JKHJmpMnnZbV1eBSc3DvzuZ_8f79LqI6RbuyoSH-tPTPIaasCD_1Yy0aE_Opc/s320/TurbioValley-149.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br class="Apple-interchange-newline" />Gaz Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03040791142330373049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2781717969934775808.post-85796678646862580042021-06-05T20:17:00.009-07:002021-06-05T20:21:47.952-07:00El Gigante - Standing on the shoulder of a giant<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZnOHS44gnWwsNBRTa3odwatpSvf8MufCfMWiYjqkPm4aoYh0DmBnXNOAfsYWHs9Sfu8VhNuJzxBj9XWMSFoILTVClFspCADMA_Dqu2GqOkdsUYbl1HT0VonS5J4vQe1yn-pJGq5lfzcU/s2048/Saunders_ElGigante--3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1396" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZnOHS44gnWwsNBRTa3odwatpSvf8MufCfMWiYjqkPm4aoYh0DmBnXNOAfsYWHs9Sfu8VhNuJzxBj9XWMSFoILTVClFspCADMA_Dqu2GqOkdsUYbl1HT0VonS5J4vQe1yn-pJGq5lfzcU/s320/Saunders_ElGigante--3.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Standing on the shoulder of a Giant</span></div></div><span id="docs-internal-guid-d2c326db-7fff-e801-880f-2324c8c17ea5"><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Hidden deep within the sierra of Chihuahua, Mexico lies a rock wall known locally as “El Gigante”. Emerging almost 1000m from the valley floor, it is the focus of myths and legends. Great fields of marijuana were rumored to grow at its base, and accessing it required days of difficult hiking through cartel controlled lands. It's weather fluctuated at a moment's notice. From 90 degrees and sunny one day, to minus 10 degrees and snowing the next. It both intimidated and captivated me. I called to recruit my friends Will Saunders (a talented photographer) and Sergio Almada (a big wall veteran) to undertake the expedition with me. Equally excited for such an adventure, we immediately booked our flights and a few weeks later, found ourselves in a small mountain town in Chihuahua, Mexico.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">--</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My climbing partner Sergio Almada,better known as “Tiny” to his friends, knew the town well. He had frequented this part of the Sierra in the years prior, establishing friendships with the locals who rarely saw visitors, especially gringos. During the early 2000's, this region of Chihuahua had earned a reputation of being dangerous as Cartels and the Police battled for control. After years of bloody clashes in which thousands of people died, normality had gradually returned to the town, but the violent stigma remained.</span></p><div><span><br /></span></div></span><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><span><div style="text-align: left;"><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFIHgV2D9qGoQPMqWRjUEEi1zo0_6BI1tdxfpbsXj19l4coWQVH_neZ9qn-_MRZWJ3EfJ5ntP5Y-eCkLSfl7CCzaPO-XegTmRmo0NB54RhQpZyy4L5nwvUfqlezGISyl-9RUTf2k3UAgo/s2048/Saunders_ElGigante-5239.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1366" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFIHgV2D9qGoQPMqWRjUEEi1zo0_6BI1tdxfpbsXj19l4coWQVH_neZ9qn-_MRZWJ3EfJ5ntP5Y-eCkLSfl7CCzaPO-XegTmRmo0NB54RhQpZyy4L5nwvUfqlezGISyl-9RUTf2k3UAgo/s320/Saunders_ElGigante-5239.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div></span></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><span><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Entering the small town of Cajurichi, we pass by cattle grazing the shoulder alongside the rough country road, closely followed by children on horseback who usher them along. Shortly after entering the town, we pull over at a small concrete home with a crudely painted blue exterior where Tiny hops out the car and makes his way inside. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Following him inside, he is greeted with smiles and open arms from the home's occupants. They're overjoyed to see a familiar face from beyond the Sierra and warmly welcome us inside their home which cameo’s as a small store or “Tienda” selling convenience items such as coca-cola, cigarettes and packaged sweet breads.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p></span><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBLYbuDhEcDF8FWFw4QCkm-gIinx3J0kR8ByFjv88zKx312QJ_7pGWQLa7F8tV9DqxeL1rW86hgKbOWUbWYvVO5Lnkm2hZ1KZupSjGfqwuf07i0F-EiMu5lGLBBbA-Jdv8YGAffT8YBFs/s2048/Saunders_ElGigante-3880.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1366" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBLYbuDhEcDF8FWFw4QCkm-gIinx3J0kR8ByFjv88zKx312QJ_7pGWQLa7F8tV9DqxeL1rW86hgKbOWUbWYvVO5Lnkm2hZ1KZupSjGfqwuf07i0F-EiMu5lGLBBbA-Jdv8YGAffT8YBFs/s320/Saunders_ElGigante-3880.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We're here to seek out the help of a local rancher by the name of Valentine. He is a friend of Tiny and in the past, he has helped shuttle climbers back and forth along the difficult mountain road to the summit of El Gigante, our climbing objective. Under normal circumstances, you would simply call ahead and arrange a time and place to meet, but here, deep within the mountains of copper canyon, there is no cell service and most people do not own a phone. Instead, we deploy the old style way of searching for people which in this case, involves a stop in at each of their family members houses to ask who saw him last. People rarely travel far from home here and it's often just a matter of time until you bump into whoever you're looking for.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The family members inside are eager to hear news from outside the mountains and after a brief catch up of the previous years events, Margarita (Valentines wife) joins our now extra stuffed Toyota Rav4 for a drive through the village to search. We pay a visit to the homes of various family members until finally we arrive at the house of Bertha, Valentine’s mother. A faint voice calls to us from a dim lit doorway, “Buenas tardes muchacho's”. As we exit the car and approach the house, a small lady in her 80's emerges. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She informs us that Valentine is in the woods close by harvesting lumber. Piling back into the car, now with both Margarita and Bertha, we make our way down the narrow and bumpy 4x4 roads in search. Arriving at a small abandoned house in a clearing, we exit our cramped rav4 and listen for the sound of chainsaws but hear nothing. Margarita has a hunch to his location and takes off on foot into the woods. Not wanting to get seperated (or lost), we hang around the abandoned shack and hear stories from Bertha about life in the Sierra whilst we await for word from Margarita. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">An hour or so passes and we begin to wonder whether to send out a search party for Margarita when suddenly she appears from the dirt road. “Yo eschuchar los moto sierra, pero es un poco lento, vamos a manejar” She informs us that she can hear the sound of chainsaws but we would have to drive down a difficult 4x4 road to get there. Regrouping, we squeeze back into the car and slowly scrape our way down the small forest road until we are forced to stop by a horse in the middle of the road.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p></span><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2FMcu72pPwed-m50fYHKWcFoPwh3I5Wwh0KQmR8eLv4CjULI5IKyHpscAcNrwJhKI6DPusyq72o8gsOfLoamqNMq_cd1PxVUJ0yaxo8MKCJkJTO8iQMXduvyNHXTRqeL9Q9f6HIALHSI/s2048/Saunders_ElGigante-7185.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1366" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2FMcu72pPwed-m50fYHKWcFoPwh3I5Wwh0KQmR8eLv4CjULI5IKyHpscAcNrwJhKI6DPusyq72o8gsOfLoamqNMq_cd1PxVUJ0yaxo8MKCJkJTO8iQMXduvyNHXTRqeL9Q9f6HIALHSI/s320/Saunders_ElGigante-7185.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Just past the horse, we find Valentine along with a group of men rolling giant logs down a hillside onto a vintage flatbed truck. They don't have any fancy machines for the job, just gravity and ingenuity to save their bodies from the laborious work. After exchanging our customary greeting, Valentine agrees to help us in our endeavor and we arrange to meet at his home later that evening to pack up our equipment and prepare to leave the following day.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">With a plan now formed, we head back into town to drop off the family members who had assisted in the search and use our free time to purchase essential items from the local stores. Selections are limited in the sierra, and so our main food source for our planned 6 days on the wall will be a combination of tortillas, frijoles, and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Completing our underwhelming food shop, we make our way to a small concrete house atop a hill that overlooks the town where we rendezvous with Valentine. Pulling up outside, his warm smile greets us from the doorway. We unload the car and arrange our bags into manageable loads which we plan to leave strategically at ledges along our 1000m descent of El Gigante. In my mind, this is one of the most critical tasks in climbing a big wall. For anyone who has had to empty the contents of their bag to access something buried in the bottom, you'll understand how difficult that task becomes when you have nowhere to place the contents and thousands of feet of air all around you. My preferred set up for handling this situation is to place three liter bottles filled with water at the bottom, evening and breakfast food on top of them, sleeping equipment on top of that, then snacks and one bottle of water at the very top should we run out of what we have currently out in our climbing backpack. Once happy with our haul bag layer cake, we lift them onto the back porch in preparation for the morning and make our way into the kitchen to talk with Valentine.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Crouched alongside a cast iron stove, Valentine places kindling into it's sooted doorway, the flames licking at his hands. Gesturing for us to come in, we each take a seat around the dining table. Margarita serves us homemade tortillas whilst Tiny and Valentine catch up on life. A native of Chihuahua, Tiny is well known by the locals. Though born and raised in the city some 200km away, he has spent more time in the Sierra than anyone I know from the outside. He is in tune with their way of life, their humble demeanor, and subtle mannerisms which often say more than their words. He has frequented this area for years, establishing new routes on the walls of copper canyon, often with assistance from friendly locals such as valentine to accomplish these feats. Valentine is a farmer of sorts. He has lived in the Sierra his whole life, planting crops (sometimes less than legal ones) and harvesting lumber. He is quietly spoken and humble. Living in a small house perched upon the hill, he lives a modest life for Mexico. Tiny and Valentine talk for hours whilst Will and I welcomely devour the steaming hot tortillas that Margarita keeps conjuring. Tired from our travels, I announce I am going to bed. The others soon follow suit and we settle into the small back room of Valentines house. Climbing into our sleeping bags, we goof around with excitement and anticipation. Tomorrow, the adventure begins.</span></p><div><span><br /></span></div></span><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><span><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div></span></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><span><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">At 4.00am, the alarm sounds. Peering over the lip of my sleeping bag, I can tell from the slow rustling of the others that the morning came sooner than any of us were ready for. Climbing from the bed, I make my way to the back porch. Looking out over the dimly lit town, the night is still. Roosters can be heard crowing in the distance, welcoming the impending sunrise. As I begin maneuvering our bags onto the old ford truck, the others arrive to help and we load them strategically in the back. Valentine informed us the night prior that the road is rough and the journey will take around 2 hours to drive. From where we park, we would need to hike a further 2 hours across a ridgeline to reach the summit. Making a final check to ensure we haven't left anything behind, we head out into the dark.</span></p><div><span><br /></span></div></span><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><span><div style="text-align: left;"><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1FrdJkWS5laFgR_75CMdzk6bsEmG5H92R3aaDV-5B2suplS-j9Ed9DMqvbDNC3SOr2Xuq6nscBdexCHMQ0LGbnDxGqQTer58gIF2f-nlVN89ZiFFPg3rnwxQk2SVqW_Je5bpulyPdEME/s2048/Saunders_ElGigante-4084.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1366" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1FrdJkWS5laFgR_75CMdzk6bsEmG5H92R3aaDV-5B2suplS-j9Ed9DMqvbDNC3SOr2Xuq6nscBdexCHMQ0LGbnDxGqQTer58gIF2f-nlVN89ZiFFPg3rnwxQk2SVqW_Je5bpulyPdEME/s320/Saunders_ElGigante-4084.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div></span></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><span><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The old ford truck grumbles along the bumpy dirt road. Tiny rides up front with Valentine and his son Octavio whilst Will and I ride in the back with the haul bags. The road seems to wind endlessly through large open fields, sparse pine forests, and up steep rock. After several hours of being tossed around like a salad in the back, we arrive at a small clearing in the woods from where we must continue on foot. Octavio jumps out the cab and assists us with unloading the bags. They’re heavy. Some of the bags weighed more than we did and lifting them onto our backs was a team effort. Though not ideal, this was nothing out of the ordinary. Just about every expedition I've ever embarked upon has involved some level of grimness with overweight packs. It's the adventure initiation.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We scramble down through some pine tree’s and out onto the open ridge that leads to the summit. After around two hours of bushwhacking and load shuttling up steeper sections, we arrive at the summit of El Gigante just in time to witness the sun rise over the canyon walls. The view from the summit was magnificent and the moment surreal. You see, normally you spend days or weeks hanging off the side of the mountain in order to enjoy the summit view. It is in many ways the only reward for your endeavor. But for the first time ever, we were approaching the mountain from the top and rappelling more than 3000ft down to the ground in order to begin. Though not a traditional approach to big walls, the alternative option involved a multi day hike with even more gear which no one seemed keen to do.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Collapsing to the ground under the weight of the 145 litre haul bag which felt as though I'd just carried a small elephant, I removed my equipment and laid it out in front of me for inspection. From this point onwards, we would all live day and night in our harnesses. Once we made our way over the edge of the wall, it was untreatable. The only way out was up and any equipment forgotten could be the difference between returning to the summit or becoming stranded in space. Racking the gear to my harness and uncoiling the ropes, we make a final group check to ensure we’re all ready. I thread the anchor and toss the rope down the face. Clipping the haul bag to my harness, I nod to the others and take one last look over the canyon before making my way over the edge.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p></span><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaqgu7iZR1x7Y1iB8sT80txmeJroaF9sX2AOVsGgoe8nKAa_VwHI5eoWY7fbYl04wnmkDJCbXYrwV_t8DZkunakHUKDfboBVC5fCHPu6ZFgP2T4iIOPt6f4Mx_SYbrI4f2qGkoYAQeeXM/s2048/Saunders_ElGigante-5610.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1366" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaqgu7iZR1x7Y1iB8sT80txmeJroaF9sX2AOVsGgoe8nKAa_VwHI5eoWY7fbYl04wnmkDJCbXYrwV_t8DZkunakHUKDfboBVC5fCHPu6ZFgP2T4iIOPt6f4Mx_SYbrI4f2qGkoYAQeeXM/s320/Saunders_ElGigante-5610.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There is nothing quite like stepping out into the abyss. Regardless of how many times you do it, tethered by a single strand of rope above 3000ft of air, it is a daunting feeling. We began rappelling down the face, systematically leapfrogging for time efficiency. Arriving at the “Critter Bivvy” at the top pitch 18 some hours later, we strategically stash one of our haul bags which has enough food and water for 2 days. The amount of time we anticipated it would take to go from this ledge to the summit. With gear securely fastened to the ledge, we continue down to the “Tower of Power” where we plan to spend our first night. After several hours and one hairy haul bag traverse, we arrive at the ledge at the top pitch 8 and unfold our portaledge. If you’ve not seen one of these before, it’s a kind of collapsible camping cot that hangs from the wall. It’s barely wide enough for two people to lay down and standing on it feels a little like surfing a giant kite. It takes a plethora of circus tricks and often physical persuasion to unfold whilst hanging in the air but once ready, it’s like living on a magic carpet. Now comfortable on the portaledge and Will sitting directly on the large ledge below, we settle in to make dinner and peer down over the hundreds of feet of wall that we must rappel and climb in the morning. The wall below doesn’t seem so bad in terms of climbing difficulty. Eight pitches no harder than 5.11c (F6c), a goal fairly non-chalant for someone climbing this route. Switching our glance from below to above, the wall leading to the summit was both huge and intimidating. From where we were, we would need to climb a further 2000ft feet of consistently difficult, sparsely protected and strenuous 5.12 and 5.13 began. This was where the true challenge lay. Not wanting to get too far ahead of ourselves, we finish up dinner, climb into our sleeping bags and turn on our customary Bob Marley playlist. His songs have become somewhat of a big wall anthem for Tint and I during our adventures, and there is not a morning or night that goes by without his positive vibrations. Settled into my sleeping bag, I gazed up into the sky. I had never seen so many stars. With the absence of light pollution from nearby towns or cities, the night sparkled in brilliant beauty. </span></p><div><span><br /></span></div></span><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><span><div style="text-align: left;"><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9mImDNPFzVphernsPRkYx7rcdU7zMj9T9Hsk7B5tJBOfkLO0jHnkBm9hWMApozkD22jMYlRrFDebTeAbpXdoYeYW1USYXG9O-WF6V2pXSJlx-MInqt40DQiTAziu468gOD3zvZ7k02aQ/s2048/Saunders_ElGigante-4581.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1366" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9mImDNPFzVphernsPRkYx7rcdU7zMj9T9Hsk7B5tJBOfkLO0jHnkBm9hWMApozkD22jMYlRrFDebTeAbpXdoYeYW1USYXG9O-WF6V2pXSJlx-MInqt40DQiTAziu468gOD3zvZ7k02aQ/s320/Saunders_ElGigante-4581.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div></span></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><span><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The familiar ring of my alarm shakes me awake. It’s 10am and a light breeze circulates around the wall. Today, Tiny and I will rappel the 8 pitches to the ground and then climb back up to our portledge. Will is going to stay on the ledge and shoot images from above. Motivation is high. After weeks of planning and travelling, we’re finally going to get a chance to try ourselves against the wall. Fishing the Jetboil from the hualbag, Tiny begins our morning ritual of coffee, a smoke, and of course Bob Marley music whilst I begin breakfast. Options are limited on the side of a mountain and you won’t find any gourmet meals. After availability, taste comes 2nd or possibly even 3rd to calorie value and density. There's also a finite amount of space available for food and on this expedition, breakfast was the school yard favorite peanut butter and jelly accompanied by a handful of sour chilli candies. Not exactly a Michelin restaurant experience, but that’s what we could find. I hand out sandwiches to the boys and we enjoy the sweet, gummy food experience washed down with coffee and candies. Making the last hard swallow, I rack up our gear for the day and prepare to descend to the ground with Tiny.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p></span><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjRzs6ALDN0O2fyR6dNp062XDHfPlhtAMhBquKT2cWcezlk_dW0ysP8ZAf2Eky8oo9lyZjjl__-buiTAzkU9it6SU7vGAXVaU4JQwUdlEcZsXG2UbKapufoSxvkqj0ep3aa87qT65GdAs/s2048/Saunders_ElGigante-6005.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1366" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjRzs6ALDN0O2fyR6dNp062XDHfPlhtAMhBquKT2cWcezlk_dW0ysP8ZAf2Eky8oo9lyZjjl__-buiTAzkU9it6SU7vGAXVaU4JQwUdlEcZsXG2UbKapufoSxvkqj0ep3aa87qT65GdAs/s320/Saunders_ElGigante-6005.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Arriving at the base of the wall, the smell of Marijuana permeates the air. “The rumours must be true” I think to myself. Not wanting to miss out on uncovering the truth, I take a short walk from the base, following my nose until I can see the fields. They’re small plots, maybe a ¼ acre in size dotted around the valley floor. It was something to behold and gave a strange sense of being inside some kind of hollywood movie. I decided to not stick around too long for fear of drawing any unwanted attention and returned to the base to begin the climb. I uncoiled the rope on the floor and double checked my gear one last time. From this point onwards, our only way out was 3000ft above. We had just 5 days to get there or risk missing our flight, or worse, running out of water. Tieing into the rope, we exchange our customary fist bump and I begin to climb the wall.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The features of the rock are fragile and the protection spaced. I try my best to maneuver purposefully and efficiently up the rock, not wanting to waste energy or take a giant fall. Reaching the first anchor, I fix the belay and Tiny climbs up to join me. “The bolts are really spaced dude!” he tells me. “That was fucking scary” I reply. Though the climbing wasn’t technically difficult in the scale of things, the potential for a big fall was very real should you have any troubles. With the tone of the route firmly scarred into our minds, Tiny sets off on the next pitch. We continue upward and onward, alternating who leads until we arrive back at the portaledge some hours later to find Will preparing dinner.</span></p><div><span><br /></span></div></span><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><span><div style="text-align: left;"><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5RDUyDpUYIIUgrg2Z8HTfrfSvqlAu8VMDsOKUjMvT0gSSmjULbgggo9Bfjws4fzBXW1I_0c0uxn7sBtv1rA70UJAQG8cc6BAQD5UBwhmA0ApsOl8zbiLVVdYc-H2SvRemuS6wTH0tR3E/s2048/Saunders_ElGigante-5075.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1366" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5RDUyDpUYIIUgrg2Z8HTfrfSvqlAu8VMDsOKUjMvT0gSSmjULbgggo9Bfjws4fzBXW1I_0c0uxn7sBtv1rA70UJAQG8cc6BAQD5UBwhmA0ApsOl8zbiLVVdYc-H2SvRemuS6wTH0tR3E/s320/Saunders_ElGigante-5075.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div></span></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><span><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“How was it?” Will asks. “It’s runout and spicy” I reply with a giant grin. He laughed, he knew I got a kick out of it. Removing our climbing shoes which by this point felt like foot bindings, we spend the remainder of the evening discussing what was ahead. Dinner that night was a little more appealing than breakfast. Whole wheat tortillas with frijoles, chilorio de soya and salsa. Not bad for a kitchen 1000ft in the air. We ate like kings with our burrito feast and sang Bob Marley into the night, finally turning in around 8pm. Earlier in the evening, Tiny confessed to me that he might not be able to free climb the pitches above. Due to having a full time job prior to the expedition, he hadn’t had much time to train adequately and found some of the lower pitches difficult. I appreciated his honesty and reassured him it didn’t matter. We were a team and I didn’t care who did what, just that we did it together. That night, I meditated on how the next few days would unfold before finally drifting off to sleep.</span></p><div><span><br /></span></div></span><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><span><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPiP211e5mHUtzTt48fORCloXUFtSlOTx2uCTYroePoFKk9xxGqwWwC2EcJWAxw9XRWRqfSdw3XB0ILPtqWos87OkSN2hsoyf4eozckF1lsvtFInrih6oj762NRzs2WfloJsJPeM47cxc/s2048/Saunders_ElGigante-5801.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1366" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPiP211e5mHUtzTt48fORCloXUFtSlOTx2uCTYroePoFKk9xxGqwWwC2EcJWAxw9XRWRqfSdw3XB0ILPtqWos87OkSN2hsoyf4eozckF1lsvtFInrih6oj762NRzs2WfloJsJPeM47cxc/s320/Saunders_ElGigante-5801.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></span></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><span><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The alarm sounds at 5.30am. Scrambling to find my phone which somehow made its way to the bottom of my sleeping bag in the night, I hit the dismiss button and sit up. The air is cold and although it is still night, a faint glow emanates from over the canyon walls. I begin our morning coffee ritual and try to decode the movement of the rock above us. Today we must climb and haul all our equipment over 1000ft up the wall to our next camp at the “Critter Bivy”. There are 10 pitches of climbing to get there, 7 of which are 5.12b (F7b+) or harder and one which is 5.13a (F7c+). A difficult task for any climber when not on the side of a big wall. I feel tense with doubt but choose not to share my apprehensions with the others. I know that I am the strongest climber in our group, and as I look to them for help with hauling, they look to me to get us through the harder sections. It would serve no good to share and would more likely diminish morale. The nerves accompanied by the coffee fire up my bowels, it’s time for my first poo on the wall. This delicate act involves holding a double lined paper bag as close to your bum hole as possible whilst hanging in your harness and avoiding making a mess on your hands. I call this endearing adventure, “a poo with a view”. First time air squatters often struggle with bag alignment and it is well worth practicing at home with the luxury of hand sanitizer than on the side of a mountain where if you’re lucky, you’ll have wet wipes to clean up any unfortunate mishaps. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Completing the process, we pack up the portaledge and ready our equipment for the day ahead. The plan is for me to lead the harder pitches and Tiny will lead the remainder. Tying in to the sharp end, I begin to climb.</span></p><div><span><br /></span></div></span><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><span><div style="text-align: left;"><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmSqFVAq10ftGQZM0kFfh_34fndi4Kh6UTBaI1n6dQgHJ9y5fiN42yllwC6-EAsMo0QhPCQysPVjJkw9NeOeTBaBjTd4wbaHNzq5MdOQKp5ntlPCc9T0zOqKn0Sy_UUHLq-WPIMCJPtIk/s2048/Saunders_ElGigante-6579.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1366" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmSqFVAq10ftGQZM0kFfh_34fndi4Kh6UTBaI1n6dQgHJ9y5fiN42yllwC6-EAsMo0QhPCQysPVjJkw9NeOeTBaBjTd4wbaHNzq5MdOQKp5ntlPCc9T0zOqKn0Sy_UUHLq-WPIMCJPtIk/s320/Saunders_ElGigante-6579.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div></span></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><span><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The wall above is technical and considered the most difficult part of the route. Grasping to the small edges, I maneuver my feet back and forth around the tiny edges. The day begins well, I manage to climb the first two pitches free and Tiny takes the next 2 pitches to the top of the “Lichen Traverse”. Four down, six to go. Taking the duct tape laden nalgene from the haul bag, I take a sip of water and inspect the next pitch. It’s another hard section and I'm feeling spent. The day is growing hotter and the sun's rays beat down on us. My fingers are sore and my muscles ached. Feeling this drained so early in the day was not a good sign when we were less than half way to our goal. I push the thought to the back of my mind and we execute the next 4 pitches. Arriving at the belay at the top of pitch 15, I clip the chains and slump onto the anchor. Between climbing and hauling, I’m destroyed. It’s getting dark by now and i’ve not eaten much since breakfast. When the boys arrive at the belay shortly after, they can tell I'm not doing so well. “How’d you feel about camping on the portledge tonight?” I asked. “I think it would be better to continue to the next rock ledge so that we can all sleep well” Tiny replied. Will agreed. “I need to rest and eat, who wants to take the next pitch?” I asked. No one seemed keen. It was a desperately hard pitch and we were all tired. Movement had become painfully slow in the darkness with the increased difficulty of route finding. After some deliberation, Tiny decides to take the lead while I rest. Deploying an assortment of climbing tricks, he reaches the next anchor in complete dark and we climb up to him. The temperature has dropped greatly and we’re beginning to shake. I pull out my down jacket and finagle it under my harness. I’m still feeling too out of it to lead, and borderline hallucinating with tiredness and fatigue. “I’m sorry boys, but you might need to lead the pitches to the ledge” I tell them. They know I’ve given everything. “We got you mate” Will replies. I smile. We eat some snacks and take a minute to rest. The moon lights up the canyon around us and everything is silent. Not wanting to sit too long for fear of getting cold, Tiny and Will execute the final pitches to the “Critter bivvy”. Progress is difficult by headlamp and we arrive at 2.30am, some 21 hours after beginning our day. Unfolding the portaledge and readying our sleeping equipment, Tiny and I climb onto the bed and Will takes the rock ledge below. We don’t talk much. The day had been a long one and all of us are completely spent. Tomorrow would be here soon, and we needed all the rest we could get.</span></p><div><span><br /></span></div></span><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><span><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj732qK-4I_A5T_i6NGEwJSdOKtlL_LogG0C1XpakGEhcPPBRZkLIsmxwxezdF6lJ2GgTU0mDQDg2D1e3XCMThi3cS86XXIvBfVejHAfoc5ikc5ISeVG3ltFbaX0mT6qW7eghBqVTFA-_o/s2048/Saunders_ElGigante-5870.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1366" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj732qK-4I_A5T_i6NGEwJSdOKtlL_LogG0C1XpakGEhcPPBRZkLIsmxwxezdF6lJ2GgTU0mDQDg2D1e3XCMThi3cS86XXIvBfVejHAfoc5ikc5ISeVG3ltFbaX0mT6qW7eghBqVTFA-_o/s320/Saunders_ElGigante-5870.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></span></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><span><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I wake reluctantly around 1pm. The sun has crested over the horizon and the rising temperatures are cooking me inside my sleeping bag. Climbing from my bag, I dangle my feet over the side of the portaledge and look to see if Will is awake. Shaded from the sun underneath the portaledge, he’s still enjoying the rest. My movement wakes Tiny up and he sits up alongside me. Preparing coffee, we joke about how fucked up yesterday was. We had both surpassed a state of tiredness and fatigue which few people have the pleasure of enjoying in such remote circumstances. And though neither of us said it openly, I secretly knew yesterday was what we came for. We wanted a challenge, and that was what we found. </span></p><div><span><br /></span></div></span><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><span><div style="text-align: left;"><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXvZf7WvchWHctxZL-7n2yVmLuNi_Tc6R8ut5T51jRDWC_a0xk5t2dzqd4ANHjpOJA8ec4cXCA8vV6r8ubaUvqTbg60b1HJ0b0Zu7To2gJTkiyNzrEBOKx_yKDpY7brTe-zAB9M0c679A/s2048/Saunders_ElGigante-4782.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1366" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXvZf7WvchWHctxZL-7n2yVmLuNi_Tc6R8ut5T51jRDWC_a0xk5t2dzqd4ANHjpOJA8ec4cXCA8vV6r8ubaUvqTbg60b1HJ0b0Zu7To2gJTkiyNzrEBOKx_yKDpY7brTe-zAB9M0c679A/s320/Saunders_ElGigante-4782.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div></span></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><span><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Smelling the aroma of coffee, Will emerges from his sleeping bag. Today we’ve decided to stay at the ledge and rest. Thanks to the haul bag we had stashed here on the way down, we now had an abundance of food and could afford to eat a little better than the days before. This meant we now had the luxury of two moisture sucking pb+j sandwiches instead of just one. On the upside, we now had two bags of sour chilli sweets which I later found quite filling if you ate enough. Climbing down off the hanging bed onto the ledge below, I huddle in the shade with Will. Tiny fires up our Bob Marley playlist and we discuss what the plan of attack will be to reach the summit over breakfast. We figured it would take another two days to reach the top. Not wanting to haul any weight further than needed and to give ourselves more time to rest, we decided that tomorrow we would climb just 4 pitches, fix lines back to our ledge and haul half the gear to the high point. The following day we could then climb to the top of our fixed lines and continue up the final 7 pitches to the summit. In doing it this way, we hoped to grow a little skin back on our fingertips and distribute the efforts evenly. With the plan decided, we went about our rest day as we pleased. Confined to a ledge no wider than 2 people and roughly 15ft long, our activities mostly involved sleeping and eating. I took the time to jot notes in my diary and dream up elaborate expedition ideas, a thought experiment I quite often get lost in. As night arrived, we made burritos and set to bed early. Just two days to go, and we would reach the top.</span></p><div><span><br /></span></div></span><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6ZFOeGaPZS0jjBa2MVt-c3SRfyxFGMGMFAMx5KueQHJ1Rd9iG2CrpeFoyHS0MxZjKuEiDU8hLFZnyKtHE5iuHGtLEIVKnr6KfljYiyZQfaKv08KWqy5HzzG9jg9uRZz_LiaEAaLFBXy8/s2048/Saunders_ElGigante-4848.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1366" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6ZFOeGaPZS0jjBa2MVt-c3SRfyxFGMGMFAMx5KueQHJ1Rd9iG2CrpeFoyHS0MxZjKuEiDU8hLFZnyKtHE5iuHGtLEIVKnr6KfljYiyZQfaKv08KWqy5HzzG9jg9uRZz_LiaEAaLFBXy8/s320/Saunders_ElGigante-4848.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The next two days went by quickly. Feeling replenished from our day lazing on the ledge, we woke early in the morning and executed our plan to fix lines before returning to the portaledge for a fairly mellow evening. Though the day was largely uneventful with the exception of being regularly terrified by the fall potential, it was another day on the wall and for us, another day in paradise. Tomorrow would be the final push to the summit, and I could finally eat something that wasn’t the texture of turf.</span></p><div><span><br /></span></div></span><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><span><div style="text-align: left;"><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSaHijm59-OX9GVlAKxVt4nuQMvR3_qNoHD9rWxyX7Q8EbU0OuNqYJHX2tCyV7FYYGIPDv2VkJSsApFDq_CDSv758ox30RpOzCeNLFNP_01zIxCBGJweO1mm57qgpTirXWT-c4T4OfCcY/s2048/Saunders_ElGigante-4738.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1366" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSaHijm59-OX9GVlAKxVt4nuQMvR3_qNoHD9rWxyX7Q8EbU0OuNqYJHX2tCyV7FYYGIPDv2VkJSsApFDq_CDSv758ox30RpOzCeNLFNP_01zIxCBGJweO1mm57qgpTirXWT-c4T4OfCcY/s320/Saunders_ElGigante-4738.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div></span></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><span><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">On the morning of our summit attempt, we woke before sunrise and packed away our equipment. This would be our final day on the wall if everything went to plan. During packdown we realized we had a surplus of food remaining. Rather than hauling the extra weight out or chucking it down the wall, we decided to pound as much as we could and save a marginal amount should shit hit the fan. Now buzzing from the ¼ pound of strawberry jam and a powdered double latte, I shoot up the fixed lines and haul the equipment up to me. By the time the haul bag arrives, Tiny and Will have reached the belay. Tying in, I execute the pitch above and Tiny and I begin exchanging leads to the summit. Things go smoothly and we’re moving fast. Arriving at the belay for pitch 24, we assemble our gear and take a moment to snack. This is the final hard pitch before the summit. If we can climb this, we will sleep on solid ground tonight. Chalking up using the crumbs left in my chalk bag, I climb what might be one of the best 5.12b (F7b+) pitches anywhere in the world. A hanging arete more than 2000ft off the ground, devoid of texture and with just a handful of pockets that tie it all together. It was perfectly my style and the exposure below made the experience all the more exhilarating. It was as though climbing through a wall of braille. Clipping the chains, I give out a “HEEWWWWDEY HEEEEEEEW!” to the boys so they know we’re out of the thick of it. They cheer! I fix lines and they join me at the anchor with giant smiles. We all know that from here, we can make it to the top. With our biggest fear now firmly overcome, morale is at an all time high. We climb the final pitches to the summit with ease, arriving at the top as the sun begins to set. </span></p><div><span><br /></span></div></span><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><span><div style="text-align: left;"><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIfGazWm-JmoBJeYu-cQfGwb299v0ji7e6NRhvUYH51sn81lHxJdruC8zaVUI1rkTTRRwYAkm1qsf1t75tQo94RTGLpKSlM221EMo1mAXM22Xun1LFADL2LSjM2bk6Cjxuh8QvRLjfu1I/s2048/Saunders_ElGigante-4886.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1366" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIfGazWm-JmoBJeYu-cQfGwb299v0ji7e6NRhvUYH51sn81lHxJdruC8zaVUI1rkTTRRwYAkm1qsf1t75tQo94RTGLpKSlM221EMo1mAXM22Xun1LFADL2LSjM2bk6Cjxuh8QvRLjfu1I/s320/Saunders_ElGigante-4886.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div></span></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><span><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We scream, we hug, and we scream some more. I want to puke with relief. We had overcome something which we all secretly doubted possible at one point or another. The experience had tested us mentally and physically. It had forced us to expand our limits, problem solve and push through our fears.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As the last rays of light disappear over the horizon, we watch in awe as the sky illuminates with hues of purple, red, and blue. The view was a fitting prize for our struggle, especially from where we were.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Standing on the shoulder of a giant.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><br /></p></span><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; 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margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Fortitudine Vincimus</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> - Through endurance, we conquer</span></p><br /><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">El Gigante survival kit:</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">25 quickdraws</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">2 x Jumars</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">1 x Lightweight ladder</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">1 x Petzl Connect Adjust lanyards</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">1 x Petzl Grigri</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">80m dynamic rope</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">200m fixed ropes</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">3 liters of water a day</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Wet wipes</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Toilet paper</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Toilet bags</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Superglue</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Coffee</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Food + Snacks</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></span>Gaz Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03040791142330373049noreply@blogger.com16Chihuahua, Mexico28.1748671 -108.2126-1.7444048469420039 -143.36885 58.094139046942004 -73.05635tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2781717969934775808.post-60050285695877290902019-01-02T14:52:00.003-08:002019-01-02T15:10:51.016-08:00DESTINY MANIFEST : BAYAN MASSIR<br />
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I lie in a pool of blood and excrement on the cold steel floor of an old Omani Royal Air Force Eurocopter. The drone of the rotor blades pounds deep inside my head as I stare at the ceiling. The coppery taste of blood in my mouth sickens me. A large flap of skin hangs down my cheek and there is a hole in my right foot oozing blood onto the dirty steel.<br />
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It takes a supreme effort of will to drag myself upright, in one corner beside the open door of the helicopter. The young airman who winched me up stands over me. Pointing at my wounds, he says something in Arabic, but I can’t understand him. I raise my left hand to show a thumbs up. He returns a smile and takes a seat at the back of the helicopter. Peering outside, the Al Hajar Mountains are incandescent as we lift off for Ibri Hospital.<br />
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In September 2010, I graduated with a degree in Computer Science and couldn’t wait to never see another computer again. On a whim, I took a job guiding in the Middle Eastern country of Oman. Although I couldn’t then have pointed out Oman on a map, I believed this would be an opportunity for me to live out a long-held dream.<br />
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Touching down for the first time in Muscat, Oman’s capital, I experienced a subtle apprehension. The people spoke in languages that I didn’t understand and signs were written in an alphabet with which I was barely familiar – and only from news reports dominated by gunfire and explosions. Despite what the media had led me to believe, Oman is among the wealthiest and most prosperous nations on Earth. The local climbing community, however, consisted of less than 30 people out of a population of around 4.5 million. They were fun and tight-knit, coming from the UK, France, Germany, Slovenia, Canada, USA, Albania, Egypt, and the Netherlands. I became immersed in the group’s outings to local crags and discovered that, when it came to rock climbing, Oman was a diamond in the rough.<br />
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During one of these weekly gatherings, I became aware of Oman’s most illustrious wall, Jebel Misht (‘Crested Mountain’). At more than 1,000m, its limestone crown explodes from the desert floor, reaching higher than even Yosemite’s El Capitan. It was first climbed in 1979. French climber Raymond Renaud and his team spent more than 20 days battling Misht’s south-east face using siege tactics, fixing over 1,000m of rope, drilling dozens of bolts, and even using helicopter supply drops along the route. They named this route the French Pillar. It’s said that the Sultan of Oman was so impressed by their achievement that he sent a helicopter to airlift the team from the summit to his palace for a celebration. Renaud’s story kindled my desire to pioneer big walls, and I began planning my first ascent of Jebel Misht.<br />
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Word spread and a local climber called Hamza Zidoum approached me and proposed we climb Misht together. Hamza was older and more experienced, and had a calm and positive demeanour.<br />
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He was a cornerstone of the Omani climbing community and, having previously climbed many of the classic routes on Misht, I thought he’d be an excellent partner for my first big wall. Hamza pulled a crude topo map from his pocket. A thick line was drawn up Misht’s East Face, which followed a crack feature to a ledge midway up the wall. The crack continued through a large roof at around 800m and finished direct. Hamza had previously attempted the route with another team but they had been forced to retreat. The line inspired me and we planned to return and complete the route a few weeks later.<br />
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We arrived at the base of Jebel Misht with gear and supplies, put on our equipment, and began to climb. However, several hundred metres up the wall, I heard a frantic call of ‘Rock!’ and, before I could react, a limestone block came out of nowhere and struck me. Directly in the face. Further rockfall destroyed my anchor, built into the loose, chossy rock, and I plummeted more than 5m, coming to a brutal halt on a ledge below. Struggling to catch my breath, I vividly recall staring up at the blue sky above, vision blurred, and utterly stunned.<br />
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"I heard a frantic call of ‘Rock!’ and, before I could react, a limestone block came out of nowhere and struck me. Directly in the face." </blockquote>
Hamza shouted down to me from above, panicked. I couldn’t make out the words. Rocks continued to fall and I shuffled closer to the wall. Head and torso protected, my legs were still exposed and my right foot was struck by another rock, which tore a large hole just below the ankle. Hamza continued to shout – somewhat less dazed now, I could make out his words. He was telling me to stop pulling him, but my face had been badly damaged by the impact, and when I tried to shout up I couldn’t form the worlds. He could easily have been completely unaware of what had just happened.<br />
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As soon as I twisted the rock from my foot, blood began pouring from the wound. I grabbed my backpack and took out three quick-wrap bandages – the only medical supplies I had brought – and began tightly dressing my ankle. Hamza shouted again, this time to tell me he’d built an anchor and intended to rappel down. He didn’t say much when he joined me on the ledge, but I could tell from the look on his face that I wasn’t in good shape.<br />
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I pushed the flap I of skin back across my face and held it there while he wrapped a bandage from his own pack around my head. Despite our efforts, the bleeding from my foot continued. ‘We need to go down,’ I mumbled through my swollen face. Hamza nodded. I sensed a sinking feeling between the two of us. We placed a sling over a horn-shaped rock and began the long journey back to the ground.<br />
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Arriving at base camp six hours later, Hamza attempted to carry me using an alpine coil, but with the ground so loose and steep this would have put both of us in danger. The only way down was to shuffle on my backside. Hamza shouldered our equipment and scouted the path ahead, while I began the slow and painful process of scooting myself over sharp rocks for the next seven hours. Pain suffused every moment. Eventually, I became too exhausted from blood loss. After nearly a full day, I was eventually picked up by a military helicopter and dropped off at the nearest hospital where I received surgery to fix my broken face and ankle. It had been a hell of a first attempt at a big wall.<br />
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In a hospital room resembling a luxury hotel, TV news was dominated by protests rapidly spreading throughout the Middle East: the Arab Spring. Violent clashes with police in most of the surrounding countries led me to reluctantly decide to return to the UK to finish my recovery. It was the end of my dream to establish a route on Jebel Misht. I spent the next six months learning how to walk and eat again – two things I had previously taken for granted. Eventually, when I was fully recovered, I took a job managing climbing gyms and returned to the nine-to-five existence of the weekend warrior. Time passed, memories faded, and the accident became just an unfinished chapter in the story of my life. It wasn’t until early 2017, some seven years later, that the desire to climb Jebel Misht began to bloom again. I had acquired new skills and experience in the time since the accident, and I felt as though I could now meet its challenge. The time was right to return to Oman.<br />
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This time, I would be climbing alongside my long-time partner, Sergio ‘Tiny’ Almada, who had accompanied me on risky yet successful expeditions in Mexico and Africa. On arriving in Muscat after months of preparation, we had just two weeks to reach the summit of Jebel Misht and climb its 1,000m wall. We loaded up our 4x4 and sped south towards the Al Hajar Mountains, but it was deep into night before we established our first camp beneath the 5,000-year-old Al Ayn beehive tombs. Here, we caught our first glimpse of Jebel Misht: its face lit by the moon’s glow, its ship-like prow breaking through a sea of stars. Jet-lagged and exhausted, we pitched our tents and passed out.<br />
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The next morning offered a sky strewn with cloud, which helped mitigate the heat, but even then we struggled. With such a small window, we spent the first days hauling gear up to the base of the wall. There, I found myself staring up at the same route that had once left me defeated and humbled. I hesitated. Fear chilled me. After stashing our gear we returned to base camp for one final rest.<br />
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We woke well before dawn, prepared coffee, and picked our way to the base of the wall. The night was still and cooled by moonlight as we dispatched eight pitches of incredible climbing to reach the big ledge, the desert’s tranquility broken only by the sound of the morning adhan, the Islamic call to worship, which echoed throughout the valleys below. A short break offered a change to study our line through the roof, but it was hard to tell if the route would actually go. We continued to trade leads for some hours until we arrived at the base of the roof, and the first section of steep climbing. I took the sharp end and tick-tacked out through a segment of small, loose roofs. Stepping up into a giant boulder undercling, I found myself completely gripped. The climbing became substantially harder – somewhere around 5.12 – and my last good gear placement was far below me. I could see the next move ahead, but I became paralysed by the risks I saw everywhere: I might miss the hold, or it might break off in my hands, which happened frequently on this chossy limestone wall. I reached out carefully, and cleared off several small blocks with my hands. There I found slightly more solid rock. I moved onwards, nerves buzzing, pulled over a bulge and arrived to a good stance below the final headwall.<br />
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Less than 30m of overhanging limestone separated us from easier ground that would eventually lead to the summit. We studied the wall above for any weakness, but found nothing. The wall blanked out in all directions. We had set out to establish a pure trad line, and we knew that if we wanted to continue we would need to compromise our ethics, something neither of us was willing to do. Our only option was to rappel several hundred metres down to the grand ledge and search for an alternate route around the roof. As night approached, we descended into the unknown. With only a small amount of trad gear left, we constructed only the most rudimentary anchor. Later, to save gear, we decided to down-solo the last 40m. It took eight hours before we reached the ledge and were able to build a small fire out of dead brush and savour a little rest. It was 2am. With no sleeping bags, little water, and no food to spare, we shivered and starved, and waited for morning to arrive. Rising with the sun, we huddled in dawn’s warmer light and discussed our options. We now had very little gear left.<br />
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Our rations consisted of under a litre of water and two snack bars. If we bailed to the ground now, we would be able to reach the floor and get supplies, but we’d likely use the last of our rack to get down and the expedition would be over. If we went up, we had a chance to complete the route but, with the cupboard so bare for the climbing ahead, it was a gamble. Most concerning was what would happen if we didn’t find a way to the top. I’d meticulously studied Jebel Misht’s many routes and was aware of an Italian line just 20m left of ours. It went up a steep, chossy off-width to the side of the roof at a grade we knew we could climb. Exhausted from lack of sleep and burned by the sun’s relentless heat, we set off into the relative unknown. Loose and unprotectable, it was as though the space grew wider with each move I made. It was the longest 25m of my life. Finally, weak from effort, I found a good stance above a small roof and built the belay. When Tiny joined me on the ledge, all he could say was: ‘I hope we don’t find much more of that.’ It was now his turn to take the lead into the loose unknown waiting above. Climbing over and behind giant limestone flakes that clung precariously to the wall, each of Tiny’s deft movements took us closer to that final headwall we so desperately sought. Everything was going great, until Tiny fell, a giant block still in his hand. I watched in horror as the block fell away – narrowly missing his head – and crashed into the wall below, exploding into dust and tiny fragments.<br />
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At the same time, I was launched upwards from the belay and unceremoniously suspended in mid-air. Tiny too hung in space, but not before first hammering against the wall while upside down. There we swung, like wind chimes in the Arabian sun, swearing and aching. Once I lowered myself back down to the ledge I had belayed from, I realised to my amazement that Tiny had come through the fall relatively unscathed. Although shaken, he was fine. I, on the other hand, had stupidly removed my shoes while Tiny was leading and, during the fall, had sliced my foot on some sharp rock. Blood flowed and I knew the best way to deal with it was to apply pressure using my climbing shoe. Pressure and pain.<br />
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Tiny, perversely, took renewed confidence from the fact that his protection had held up so well in such terrible rock. He pulled himself back to the wall and finished an incredible pitch to the final ledge and headwall. I joined him as the sun’s light began to fade. We’d have to move fast if we wanted to avoid another cold night on the wall. Crossing the ledge, we dispatched the remaining wall and summited as the sun set – more than 40 hours from when we had begun, with no food or water left. Trembling from fatigue and overwhelming emotion, I had to kneel. I never imagined, in my dreams about this day, that it would demand so much of me. I didn’t know whether to cry, vomit, or laugh. Tiny smiled at me through burnt lips and we embraced. Exhausted, we spent a cold night sleeping on top and woke early, packed up our gear, and began the steep hike down the backside of the mountain. We decided to name the route Bayan Massir (‘Destiny Manifest’ in Arabic) as homage to lessons learned through defeat, perseverance, and eventual success.<br />
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Dare to be Bold.<br />
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<br />Gaz Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03040791142330373049noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2781717969934775808.post-12900018428699467122016-10-28T12:00:00.003-07:002016-10-28T12:00:31.986-07:00Nubivagant: Wandering in the clouds<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 3pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhLo8_bqp1nQU4ts1V-ivlBFP-6efV-HVsruq7EicB43Fh5cl0V5sLU1pyTnSJ5V-kQVpve8tU0AHdHGOIbE-bPxgqL1u8mkGJws77tNdLQ73alURsbgsJn2oFlQUDTZWaimxkHq1ZQ_8/s1600/InspetingPeakFromCar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhLo8_bqp1nQU4ts1V-ivlBFP-6efV-HVsruq7EicB43Fh5cl0V5sLU1pyTnSJ5V-kQVpve8tU0AHdHGOIbE-bPxgqL1u8mkGJws77tNdLQ73alURsbgsJn2oFlQUDTZWaimxkHq1ZQ_8/s400/InspetingPeakFromCar.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: x-small; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Image: Matthew Parent / adidas Outdoor</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A dark tower of volcanic rock shrouded in clouds dominates the landscape. Formed millennia ago when high pressure magma solidified inside the vent of an active volcano, it’s dark and brooding -- like an ancient monolith constructed to appease an angry god... Unmarred by humans, more people have stood on the surface of the moon than atop its forested summit. From the roof of the 1984 Toyota Land Cruiser on which we stood, its shadow reached out to us across thick jungle.. This is Cão Grande.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">--</span></h2>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A little over a year prior, I had been at my apartment in Monterrey, Mexico searching the internet for my next big wall project. The city, sometimes referred to as the “</span><span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sultan of the North</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">” had become my winter home since 2014 when I realised the incredible potential for developing new routes in the nearby national park named </span><a href="http://www.parquelahuasteca.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Parque la Huasteca</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. I had already established two sport big wall lines in the area on the iconic north faces of Pico Independencia (</span><a href="http://www.gazleah.com/2016/02/the-life-you-can-save.html" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“The Life You Can Save” 5.12+, 13 pitches, 350m</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">) and El Diente (</span><a href="http://www.rockandice.com/climbing-news/new-big-wall-route-established-on-el-diente-north-face-in-mexico-1" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“El Son del Viento” 5.12+, 15 pitches, 420m</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">) and now as I stared at my computer screen, I had stumbled across what I hoped would be next. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br class="kix-line-break" /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A google search of “The Tower of Mordor” had led me to a dated tourist information page about the small island nation of São Tomé and Principé in sub-saharan Africa. I’d never before heard of the country and, being that it’s one of the smallest in the world, it was hardly surprising. Browsing the pages of the old website, with its design and layout typical of the early 90’s, I caught the first glimpse of the what is still the strangest peak I have ever seen. Rising up out of a sea of green was a 1,250ft. basalt pinnacle whose summit was hidden by clouds. It commanded its surroundings with an authority that would capture the imagination of even the most seasoned coach potato and possessed all the qualities of my dream wall; </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Unique, undisturbed and unknown. </span></h3>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pico Cao Grande. Image: Cut Media / adidas Outdoor</td></tr>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Infatuated with my new discovery, I began researching and planning for this dream climb immediately, obsessing with the idea that one day I would be able to visit this mythical island whose landscapes resembled a scene from a Jurassic Park movie.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As fortune had it, my discovery of the wall happened to coincide with the launch of the adidas Outdoor Claim Freedom initiative that was looking to support the realization of projects in the outdoors. Luckily my proposal was selected and the dream climb was set to become a reality.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The project was ambitious on many levels, requiring every detail to be meticulously examined and robust auxiliary plans put in place to prepare for the worst. Logistics were not the only challenge, to take on such a wall I would need a climbing partner with solid big wall skills and a sickening work ethic. Sergio “Tiny” Almada was a friend from Chihuahua, Mexico who had put up a number of routes on the big wall of El Gigante, Mexico and also established the route on El Diente’s North face with me. A calm and practical thinker, we had worked seamlessly together in the past and I knew we made a strong team. </span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The island itself offered little in the way of purchasable goods or modern medical aid. If something were to go wrong, we would be on our own. Now on the island, I peered through the antique, leather-covered binoculars that I had borrowed from our driver, Armando. We breathed deep as the reality of the task at hand sank in.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Village life in São Tomé. Image: Matthew Parent / adidas Outdoor</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The days following our rooftop reconnaissance unfolded in what can only be described as concerning. The carefully laid plans that i’d spent months polishing fell apart faster than a pair of $5 shoes. Firstly, we discovered that there was nowhere in the country you could get camping gas. Not only could you not purchase it but it was also impossible to ship or fly it in. We looked at conversion options using the gas bottles that were available on the island to our jetboil, but the parts were not readily available and, even if we shipped them in, it was an unrealistic solution to the problem. It was clear that, if we wanted to sleep on the wall using our ledges as we progressed, we would simply have to eat dry, packaged food. Which brings us to our second problem: Purchasing dry goods in São Tomé means purchasing imports. These are both hard to find, limited in variety, and expensive. To add to this, the dry goods they did offer still required water to rehydrate them which brings us back to the first problem: no gas. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It seemed we had just two choices; Commit ourselves to a diet of oatmeal, tuna and water for 14 days, likely resulting in complete exhaustion through hunger and malnutrition, or fix lines as we climbed and jumar to the high point each day to continue the climbing, an option which would also result in complete exhaustion, but through physical exertion. Neither option seemed much better than the other, both would ultimately be hard and after some thought we decided that jumaring what would eventually equate to kilometers of rope was the lesser of two evils. With the big decisions made, we packed the remainder of the food we had already purchased and prepared to leave for the wall.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Our first day carrying gear packs to the wall happened to coincide with a huge storm that continued to rock the island. Depending on your outlook, this was either a fortuitous learning experience or a day in hell. Trudging through the dense jungle, we arrived to the shelter of the advanced base camp (ABC) only to discover that the line we had decided upon from afar was a gutter of death. Water cascaded from the corner where we had planned to climb, rocks and plants surfed the torrent that flowed from the wall. After consulting the weather forecast for the island, we agreed that it would be suicide to take the planned line, given that rain showers were expected for most of the trip. Instead, we decided upon a more direct line up the steepest part of the wall, hoping to take advantage of the shelter the roof provided from the elements, even if it did require more difficult climbing.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Fifteen days of pain and exhaustion ensued as we fought for every inch of progress. Slaves to time, we submitted ourselves to an arduous schedule that began with a meager breakfast at 5.30 a.m. and ended after dark when route finding became unjustifiably slow. As pain drowned out hunger, the route became a battle of wills with each day growing increasingly harder while we climbed through fluctuating weather: high humidity, blistering heat and heavy rain. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijF4NnIs6lpw9bo7Sqx-NSlOVPUXBzjOPcfd9jFsKaYLlV8FLRW4VPqSH87uxtxj5L0Mbnw4um8vg9_68cCCkK5wsca7vU2P1XIRIgPBANqsTRPKc9TCA8bxoFiZ7rCGqU_Snf44wqU8Q/s1600/TinyAlmadaTiredBelay.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijF4NnIs6lpw9bo7Sqx-NSlOVPUXBzjOPcfd9jFsKaYLlV8FLRW4VPqSH87uxtxj5L0Mbnw4um8vg9_68cCCkK5wsca7vU2P1XIRIgPBANqsTRPKc9TCA8bxoFiZ7rCGqU_Snf44wqU8Q/s400/TinyAlmadaTiredBelay.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tiny Almada holds out the grimness high on the wall. Image: Matthew Parent / adidas Outdoor</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.6667px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">June 2nd was the morning of our final push to the summit, an unnerving two weeks later than we had first anticipated. Waking early on a portaledge that hung from the tester bolt we had placed at the base camp, the jungle was unusually quiet. Sitting up slowly as to not pendulum the ledge, I slid on my shoes and walked over to the fire to prepare coffee. The fire smoldered gently and the smell of charred bread fruit from the night before had attached itself firmly to my clothes. Stoking the embers, I brought the pot to a boil and readied the brew for the team as they each emerged from their sleeping bags. Gathering around the fire, we stared down our 8 spoonfuls of concrete esq oatmeal, each mouthful washed down with a gulp of bitter liquid. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.6667px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The weather was turning for the worse and an undertone of anxiety drifted about the camp. Having not rested in weeks, exhaustion had reached a peak and today would be the toughest so far. In order to complete the last section to the summit, we would need to jumar over 1000ft of rope and then continue to climb the line above, a task easier said, than done.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.6667px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Leaving shortly after 6am, we ascended the fixed ropes to our high point where we would continue our quest to the top. I racked the 20lbs of gear strategically to my harness for the final push, my hands white and saturated from the rain, the skin peeling where the callus’s once held to my hands. Checking my knot, I confirmed my readiness with our team fist bump and set off into upwards.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSjcGXyZTO9q0cb32icAlQ5Ld6I6GzN2PIdUoCKfbgIH1t60IfsBNsdXM1lDqsgn3yG4K26ef96uEOhvbHMbRurmj_MCEMURMiOGkwIKQYRD9_zDgaSYQc-PQ-xqaRpobmWk4s7qL7hLM/s1600/GazLeahDestroyedHands.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSjcGXyZTO9q0cb32icAlQ5Ld6I6GzN2PIdUoCKfbgIH1t60IfsBNsdXM1lDqsgn3yG4K26ef96uEOhvbHMbRurmj_MCEMURMiOGkwIKQYRD9_zDgaSYQc-PQ-xqaRpobmWk4s7qL7hLM/s400/GazLeahDestroyedHands.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My destroyed hands. Image: Matthew Parent / adidas Outdoor</td></tr>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Around 5pm that evening, we arrived at the convergence between rock and jungle, a sign that we had reached the summit ridge. As we pulled over the lip into the thick undergrowth, my heart began to race with excitement as to what would we discover. Having exhausted all of our static rope, we had fixed our dynamic climbing line for the final 2 pitches and now only our 7mm tag line remained to cover the distance to the summit. Tieing in, I began frantically clawing my way through the loose bush, consumed by summit fever. My dirt covered hands bled as the sharp plants cut into the creases of my fingers and ants marched their way up my water logged trousers, their own big wall adventure. Ten meters of the top, the line came tight and I was forced to remove it, tieing it to a nearby tree.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Covering the short distance to the peak’s highest point, we arrived in time to catch the setting sun as it cast its crimson light across the world below us. I could hardly believe it. The idea that we might never reach this point had begun to creep into my mind, that we simply didn’t have enough time or equipment to make it possible. Now, with just four days remaining before we departed the island, we had succeeded in completing the critical stage of establishing the route -- but the challenge was far from complete. We still had the task of cleaning 15 pitches, removing 455m of rope, creating a rappel line, and of the biggest challenge of all: redpointing. With no time to lose, we spent the next day removing the moss, plants and blocks from the route and preparing our equipment for the climb. </span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The following morning arrived sooner than either of us wanted. Rising groggily from our bed in the dirt, our aching muscles creaked into motion as we maneuvered to make breakfast. With supplies beginning to dwindle, fifteen spoons of concrete esq oatmeal and a cup of coffee would be all we could afford in the way of sustenance for the day ahead. Still exhausted from the weeks of developing, we stood at the base of the route and gathered our thoughts as we prepared to climb a free ascent of the line. The plan was to focus redpointing the first four pitches in the roof which seemed to be the hardest, sleep on the portaledge and then complete the remainder of the route the following day. The climbing went well and we made good progress but the difficulties were far greater than we had anticipated. Pitch 1 we climbed with ease but pitch 2, 3 and 4 proved hard and desperate with grades up to 5.13d (F8b). Unable to climb them clean that day, we decided that we would rappel to the ground and attempt them again the following day, though this would be the absolute last opportunity to achieve an all free ascent. That night, tired and frustrated, we went to bed early with the goal of waking with the sun and giving it everything we had. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghFlAImIeIQwn2O68fwKgw3MY9PnJpgAjksC3Bb01zd4mI5EYC6j8KToP_NehW9Kfy-b3dzUuNE-dZes3LokSTrW8wPVJkQai5JD4pJG9xnUR1O9_ugPNnc2_b4Ucchni0K-1WhcPSRn4/s1600/GazLeahPicth2F8bCrux.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghFlAImIeIQwn2O68fwKgw3MY9PnJpgAjksC3Bb01zd4mI5EYC6j8KToP_NehW9Kfy-b3dzUuNE-dZes3LokSTrW8wPVJkQai5JD4pJG9xnUR1O9_ugPNnc2_b4Ucchni0K-1WhcPSRn4/s400/GazLeahPicth2F8bCrux.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Giving it some try hard on the crux pitch. <span style="font-size: 12.8px;">Image: Matthew Parent / adidas Outdoor</span></td></tr>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Waking early the next day, we ate our breakfast of oatmeal and once again walked to the base of the wall for our final attempt. Tiny went first again, climbing the first 5.12 (F7b) pitch with ease and I followed. Switching over at the second pitch, It was my turn to take the sharp end. Tightening the velcro straps of my shoes, I stared at the wall above, rehearsing the moves in my head. This was the crux pitch of the route, a bouldery roof section that involved two big dynos (V8) on slopey holds followed by a technical 5.13 (F8a) section to the anchors. I had practiced the moves the day before and knew them intimately, all I had to do was stick them. Chalking my hands, I double checked my knot and threw myself into the climbing above. Stepping off the belay, I clipped the bolt that protected the first dyno and set up for the move. Locking my eyes on the catching hold, I launched myself upwards, clenching the edge perfectly as my legs swung out below me. Regaining my composure, I placed my feet back on the wall, clipped another bolt and took a deep breath, it wasn’t over. The following dyno was the hardest, a large throw to a frictionless sloper at the apex of my reach. Positioning my feet on small pebbles, I summoned all my strength and launched again skywards. Time seemed to stand still as the weathered skin of my sore and swollen fingers took hold of the polished rock they so greatly desired. To my amazement, my hand firmly grasped the target hold. Reacting quickly to this moment of surprise success, I raised my heal onto the tooth shaped stone that would allow me to complete the final crux move. As I reached up to grab the small pinch that would grant my freedom from the roof, my hand slipped. I fell through the air in a moment of weightlessness, a sinking feeling came next as the rope stretched tight. I had blown it. Tiny and I stared at each other as I hung there, the unspoken words drifted in the empty space between us ‘we won’t be able to climb this all free’. Pulling back on to my high point, I made my way up to the anchor where Tiny joined me shortly after. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj18mvrXMz25Ba6YZ-LC3wNGIyjl8LDKSQX6GJzO8Pi__-bezvdAXAsuRAy6Nq95LSNpL0Y2bdfY2WhDGn7DUoB7hB8ztrsWq-8nTqRTZdeR_NzJizH390CS5tFe58caaZhtuj1cbMrr3M/s1600/GazLeahPitch4topoutF8a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj18mvrXMz25Ba6YZ-LC3wNGIyjl8LDKSQX6GJzO8Pi__-bezvdAXAsuRAy6Nq95LSNpL0Y2bdfY2WhDGn7DUoB7hB8ztrsWq-8nTqRTZdeR_NzJizH390CS5tFe58caaZhtuj1cbMrr3M/s640/GazLeahPitch4topoutF8a.jpg" width="425" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pain is weakness leaving the body. Image: Cut Media / adidas Outdoor<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We fought hard up the two pitches that followed, making solid links but, again, we were unable to send them without falls. With just two days remaining, we were out of time and would have to continue climbing the route in order to establish the line. Reaching the portaledge that evening at the top of pitch 4, we discussed our disappoint over a tinned tuna dinner. We had both worked harder on this route than anything in our lives prior. If we could just complete the remaining 11 pitches to the summit cleanly, we could leave the island content with our route and our efforts. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The next day we rose at 5 a.m. and packed away the ledges. Gearing up, we planned to climb simultaneously through the easier pitches above and stop to belay traditionally only when we guessed the difficulties to be 5.11+ (F7a) or harder. Pulling on my shoes and bumping our fists to signify we were both ready, we charged the 350m wall above with less difficulty than the roof below, arriving once again at the summit almost 13 hours later. Standing atop the lofty peak, our hard work was rewarded with a spectacular sunset and 360 degree views of the entire island. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“All of our doubts and fears seem to evaporate, we had done it!”</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs-2esSKzc3uls_wJsLwLJXoblRDMeFPCgTPiBEhobEpMGdJfR3NYDoE0Q5UcRN6jRoPrZ_J5ybBHk9ow-VYVAQe0x7jxfXNu8fODA9ioKgkYs68HkGaBD-KZ2cPfi6Jvs0_gf_iIvP4w/s1600/vlcsnap-error392.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs-2esSKzc3uls_wJsLwLJXoblRDMeFPCgTPiBEhobEpMGdJfR3NYDoE0Q5UcRN6jRoPrZ_J5ybBHk9ow-VYVAQe0x7jxfXNu8fODA9ioKgkYs68HkGaBD-KZ2cPfi6Jvs0_gf_iIvP4w/s400/vlcsnap-error392.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pico Cão Grande. Image: Cut Media / adidas Outdoor</td></tr>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Our celebration and excitement was brief, preferring instead to sit in comfortable silence and reflect upon the journey here and the questions it brought. Why did we do this to ourselves? Why suffer these painful endeavors that push us to the limits of our mental and physical boundaries? What were we hoping to gain from all of this? As I sat there absorbing the glow from the setting sun, the answers seemed to come to me in a epiphany, each hidden in their question. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I realized what this all came down to for me, was an understanding of something intangible. I wanted to know where the line was drawn, where my personal boundary of possible and impossible converged. Had I found my limit? Not this time, I realise now I am capable of much and I am certain that even though I am not rushing onto my next project quite so soon, this won’t be the last time I run the big wall gauntlet, chasing that intangible understanding.</span></div>
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<img height="354" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/HBasu5NWSstKu4Jk6L9gchCcRj6JjRxOwY7GqP0NuWcPQF14x8Nj1SFNcwJKdryWCjhu8uMz8CASycvCFJ78MjbLRa2XDSFTDFY3X6jLLxmlFj2c1pizfGe1DQxw36Dle9sJHOwn" style="border: none; transform: rotate(0rad);" width="400" /></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.6667px; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Nubivagant </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.6667px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(Wandering in the clouds) 455m, 5.13d/A0 (F8b) ***</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A direct line up the steepest part of the giant roof and onto the headwall above. Though equipped as a sport line this is anything but and should be approached with the respect that big wall requires. The majority of the difficulties are located in the first 100m of the route which is a steep overhanging roof, arguably one of the largest in the world with 3 pitches of climbing at grade 5.13b (F8a) or harder. Pulling through the roof, the climbing eases considerably and you just have to hope the tropical storms stay at bay to reach to summit. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(Image: Adrian Samsara / adidas Outdoor)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">1.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Jump from the block to the wall and climb the thin slab to a roof. Pumpy. 9 bolts, 20m 5.12b (F7b) </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">2.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Steep corner with double dynos off the belay (V8) to steady 5.13b (8a) with no rests. 10 bolts, 15m 5.13d (F8b)/A0 </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">3.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Wet corner with complex beta and some committing run outs! 11 bolts, 25m 5.13c (F8a+)/A0 </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">4.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Dyno off the belay put the roof to a difficult iron cross move that gains ledge. Move across the ledge to some desperate moves that gain the dihedral were climbing eases up. 12 bolts, 30m 5.13b (F8a)/A0</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">5. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Take the blocky face to the slab. 8 bolts, 15m 5.10b(F6a+) </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">6.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> A long scramble pitch with some vertical climbing at the midpoint. Run out. 9 bolts, 35m 5.6 (F4c)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">7.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Another scramble with a tricky exit onto the ledge. 10 bolts, 35m 5.9 (F5)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">8.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> A hard start up steep rock to easy finish. 9 bolts, 25m 5.10c (F6b)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">9.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Traverse the foot ledge with good hands to a tricky exit. 8 bolts, 20m 5.9 (F5)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">10.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Hand jam the blocks to a ledge. Walk across and climb the technical face to the chains in the overhanging roof. 9 bolts, 35m 5.10c (F6b)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">11.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Traverse right and up the gulley to a hard finish on the ledge. 13 bolts, 35m 5.11d (F7a)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">12.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> 11 bolts, 35m 5.12a (F7a+) Traverse right past a loose flake to a overhanging wall and fire up to the gulley.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">13.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Scramble the corner to a ledge (unprotected) and cross the ledge to a loose wall above. 8 bolts, 30m 5.10c (F6b) </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">14.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Epic finish up the leaning arete with the chains being the crux. 9 bolts, 30m 5.11d (F7a)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">15.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Mount the rock and mantle into the jungle above. Bushwhack to the summit. 1 bolt, 70m 5.6(F4c) Class IV </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">R: </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Make eight, 35m rappels directly down from the anchors at the top of pitch 12.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Equipped/FA: Gareth “Gaz” Leah (UK) and Sergio “Tiny” Almada (Mexico) June 2016</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.333333333333332px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The project was realised thanks to the help of the adidas Outdoor #claimfreedom campaign. You can follow the story as it unfolded by viewing the hashtag #bigwallintotheclouds</span></div>
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Gaz Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03040791142330373049noreply@blogger.com10São Tomé, São Tomé and Príncipe0.3301924 6.73334299999999080.2031654 6.5719814999999908 0.4572194 6.8947044999999907tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2781717969934775808.post-25540437799587582822016-09-02T19:58:00.000-07:002016-09-02T20:05:26.796-07:00Adventure Amigo's: Making the ordinary, extraordinary! <div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIqwf4yh0XVIozauXwHeTbWjl0Ce_hA8bQsoxkjQDoSG8UK9vM1VZhVHxF7WzB5bW_Lno8qDz9AMJcGLYMJ4QRavBcS_bGCGYkyOv7WtCzQd_dBfRbZzhBsGtkRyQsg2e2KaqepKxXBXU/s1600/IMG_5722.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIqwf4yh0XVIozauXwHeTbWjl0Ce_hA8bQsoxkjQDoSG8UK9vM1VZhVHxF7WzB5bW_Lno8qDz9AMJcGLYMJ4QRavBcS_bGCGYkyOv7WtCzQd_dBfRbZzhBsGtkRyQsg2e2KaqepKxXBXU/s400/IMG_5722.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just another mini adventure with Patrick Sheridan and Matt Smoot!<br />
Credit: Gaz Leah / 10k Media</td></tr>
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What is life, but a grand adventure filled with incredible moments that separate the ordinary. </div>
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We’ve all lived these moments. The moments you never want to forget. When you felt truly alive and everything just seemed, better. It can felt in the jubilation of completing that first 10k run and reaped in the reward after a difficult uphill cycle, by its downhill rush! It’s in the accomplishment of reaching the summit of a mountain you never thought you could climb and in the wonder of discovering a place you never dreamed existed.<br />
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It immerses us everyday through sights and sounds of nature, waterfalls, and even... in silence.</div>
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But life’s not just about the big moments, but also the little ones that we live daily. Like battling the early morning snooze button to experience the warm embrace of a brilliant sunrise or simply enjoying the first sip of your morning coffee. These moments are often quietly lived and form the thing we all cherish the most, our fondest memories. The very best ones though, they’re are ones we share with others, our Adventure Amigo's.</div>
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There’s a saying that goes “Life begins, where your comfort zone ends, when you to step out into the unknown”.<br />
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The beauty of this though, is you needn’t step alone, because when shared with friends, the seemingly ordinary often becomes, the extraordinary!<br />
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I want to express my incredible love and gratitude to anyone I have ever shared a walk, a run, a rope, a boulder or any spontaneous event with. You willingness to push outside your comfort zone is a continual inspiration to me.</div>
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Gaz Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03040791142330373049noreply@blogger.com6Colorado, USA39.5500507 -105.7820674000000233.2362192 -116.10921590000001 45.8638822 -95.454918900000024tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2781717969934775808.post-73445005933036364592016-05-02T17:08:00.000-07:002016-05-03T07:06:04.041-07:00Bouldering in Parque la Huasteca<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="93da5" data-offset-key="5hviq-0-0" style="background-color: white;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7a3UdcNV1w3JgbAwYr1nq1mAB4Sd0SaBxiBjq1xiUE6PM0d2ZjjLff2Ab5Thrk8cfG_UL66n_bvYAGN3hkrrwpKra-Q7n2NABYEmmGDbkC5jg2Jq9xkQTIrbojAHZAnJwM7G9fHRwP_Y/s1600/NoMansLandBoulder1-01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7a3UdcNV1w3JgbAwYr1nq1mAB4Sd0SaBxiBjq1xiUE6PM0d2ZjjLff2Ab5Thrk8cfG_UL66n_bvYAGN3hkrrwpKra-Q7n2NABYEmmGDbkC5jg2Jq9xkQTIrbojAHZAnJwM7G9fHRwP_Y/s400/NoMansLandBoulder1-01.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span data-offset-key="5hviq-0-0" style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span data-offset-key="5hviq-0-0"><span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Over the past 6 months i've been venturing weekly into the back of #ParqueLaHuasteca to develop some boulders that a friend put me onto. The boulders themselves are a bullet hard, river washed conglomerate limestone and offer incredible 3D climbing in different styles from super steep overhangs to thin vertical faces and even cracks.
I've been making videos and documenting what i've climbed with tentative grades. It would be awesome if others wanted to check them out and give me some feedback!
Check out the topo information and beta videos below, let me know if you send something!
</span></span><b style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: center; white-space: pre-wrap;">Boulders of <span style="line-height: 19.32px; text-align: start; white-space: normal;">Guitarritas</span> </b><span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
A forty five minute walk past the camping area of El Caracol are a number of river washed boulders. The boulders are bullet hard due to the weathering and offer a challenge for climbers of all abilities. Walking back in the canyon, it's possible to see ancient Huichol paintings on boulders and memorials to lost climbers. Please show the utmost respect to the history of the area and do not touch or disturb the paintings or memorials in anyway.
</span></span><b style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Access and Approach</b><span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
From the parking area at the end of <span style="line-height: 19.32px; white-space: normal;">Guitarritas</span> canyon. Follow the river gap farther into the canyon using the path on the far wall. The path is located approximately 30m down hill from the gate that leads up to El Caracol. Once through the gap, follow the river for around 1km, going left at the fork afters Don Victors Ranch. The boulders will begin to appear at the sides of the canyon. Continue further into the canyon to reach the other bouldering areas.
</span></span><iframe height="480" src="https://www.google.com/maps/d/u/0/embed?mid=1XEyzfuG2QasQCHtD7EbCFlZkUuM" width="600"></iframe>
<b style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">La Entrada</b><span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
The first few boulders you see as you enter into the canyon fork. Traverse Wall has a number of goods lines but unfortunately many of the easier ones don’t top out (at least not without fighting the cactus.) It is located directly opposite the first boulders and has a few easy slab problems and one stellar roof one that is a must if you're climbing the grade.
</span></span><b style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Traverse Wall</b><span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
Located on the lefthand side as you enter the canyon
</span></span><b style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>1. Savage, V0 *</i></b><span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
Sit start though side pulls
</span></span><b style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>2. Mamasita Culo Delight V2 </i></b><span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
Sit start on small crimps and power up to the hole. Technical to the lip ***
</span></span><b><i><span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">3. Amado por muchos, Odiado por unos pocos, V1</span></span></i></b><span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
Begin with the obvious pocket and slap up the positive side pulls to the lip.
</span></span><b style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>4. Privileged Choss V0- </i></b><span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
Begin low on the large flake and climb through friable crimps to the lip.
</span></span><b style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i> 5. Yosemite Choss Pile, v0-</i></b><span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
Begin in the large hue and climb up through the left facing crimps
</span></span><b style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>6. Cuchara con Tigo, V3 </i></b><span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
Start with bitt hands on the crystal rail, move up into the side pulls and make a big move to the mono pocket.
</span></span><b style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>7. Sticks and Stones, V2. </i></b><span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
Sit start up the crack to the lip
</span></span><b style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>8. Systemic Lies, V2 </i></b><span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
Either dyno or make technical moves up to a good edge. Finish on the lip.
</span></span><i style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>9. Double crossed, V3 *** </b></i><span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
Begin on Systemic Lies, traversing left and finishing up Savage.
</span></span><b style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>10. Liberacion, V2 ** </i></b><span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
This problems begins on the boulder to the right. Sit start on side pulls and make a large throw to a good edge and top out
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Located directly opposite the traverse wall on the right.
</span></span><b style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>1. Si, Si, Si, V0 </i></b><span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
Stand start on underclings and move up on delicate feet.
</span></span><b style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>2. Fahitas, V0 </i></b><span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
Stand on the slab and use the good side pull out right to reach the top.
</span></span><b style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>3. Con Yo V0. </i></b><span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
Climb the slab on good pockets.
</span></span><b style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>4. Soy la Tormenta, V8 *** </i></b><span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
Begin with both hands on the low side pull. Move up through powerful moves in to slots and finish direct on the sloping top out.
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<span data-offset-key="5hviq-0-0"><b style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Camp Boulders</b><span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
Located just past the tribute to fallen climbers and the Huichol paintings. This is the giant highball boulders on the right hand side. Down climb by using the gulley on the right.
</span></span><b style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Cell Block Boulder</b><span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
This is the large prow that sits on the right handside as you walk up river.
</span></span><i style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>1. L</b></i></span><span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b><i>a Gallina de Oro</i></b></span></span><i style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>, V4 </b></i><br />
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<span data-offset-key="5hviq-0-0">Sit start on odd shaped holds and make hard moves to reach the crack and the top out.
<b><i>2. One cam top out, V1 (5.9) *** </i></b>
Climb the obvious crack from a sit start by a lay backing the edge or by solid hand jams.
<b><i>3. Enemigo Público No.1, V7 *** </i></b>
Begin down low in the crack and climb the thin, right trending seem to a big move around the arete. Compress up the blunt arete.
<i>FA Gaz Leah 2016</i>
<b><i>4. Fissure, V1 </i></b>
Lay back the crack until you can stem the rock and reach out left.
<b><i>5. Peliroojo Magika, V1 </i></b>
Climb the slab to a long crux move reaching over the roof to a good edge.
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<b>Solitary Confinement</b>
This area begins after passing through the beautiful river washed canyon constriction. The area is easily distinguished by the incredible roof boulder in the middle of the riverbed.</span></div>
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<b style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sanctuary Boulder</b>
<b style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>1. Paola, V11 ***</i></b><span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
Beginning on the flake and finger pocket at the back of the cave. Climb out through the small pockets using a combination of body tension and nifty footwork. Reaching the double mono’s, keep composed and fire for the lip via a big more or an inverted toe hook.
</span></span><i style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">FA Gaz Leah 2016 </i> </span><br />
<span data-offset-key="5hviq-0-0"><b style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>2. Corazón del Puño, V8 *** </i></b><span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
Start with the flake, finger pocket at the back of the cave and make your way out the roof direct with powerful lock offs to a big lunge.
</span></span><i style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">FA Gaz Leah 2016</i> </span><br />
<span data-offset-key="5hviq-0-0"><b style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>3.Susurros del Destino, V11?</i></b><span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
A project starting on the same holds as Paola, move out right of the cave.
</span></span><b style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>4. La Guerra De los Tontos, V2. </i></b><span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
Climb the giant flake to a loose top. Hard to spot.</span></span></span><br />
<i style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">FA Juan “Oso” Alberto 2016</i><br />
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<span data-offset-key="5hviq-0-0"><b style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Activista Boulder</b><span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
Located behind the sanctuary boulder on the left hand side.
</span></span><b style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>1. Misa de Gallo, V2.</i></b><span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
From a sit start on the big block. Climb up through the solid conglomerate holds using the good side pulls out left.
</span></span><b><i><span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">2. El protagonista, V3. </span></span></i></b><span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
Begin the same large block as the previous line but move out right and finish.
</span></span><b style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>3. Verdad a Prueba de Balas, V7.</i></b><span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
From the hueco below the giant glued rock. Move up and out into the easier moves above. There are at least 3 ways to climb this boulder!
</span></span><b style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>4. Project Finish, V9?</i></b><span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
Starting on the thin holds between the Verdad a Prueba de Balas and Slap Problem.
</span></span><b style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>5. Quiero ver a Gaz, V6. </i></b><span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
Begin on the obvious good right hand hold and you left on one of the smooth crimps. Stand tall and make a one move wonder to a good hold, move out left to finish.
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Gaz Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03040791142330373049noreply@blogger.com10Parque La Huasteca, Sin Nombre de Colonia 22, Sin Nombre de Col 22, Cd Santa Catarina, NL, Mexico25.64966 -100.45036600000003-2.695684 -141.75896000000003 53.995004 -59.141772000000032tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2781717969934775808.post-53576412866468408322016-02-05T12:50:00.001-08:002016-02-13T20:01:22.374-08:00The Life You Can Save<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/matthew_parent_visuals/" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="251px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk_S6x83LGI8W2MHoswnqoj-VsrWLW1gYryBxsOVPrNAhzw9Z-3deh-cF2nbBEq4XBlwlIdeHSjtBcapgMuW7Wu-AK2wG4aUX8-fD-OOjIs_agrIJuE7Sx5LyC7dhsOQyf-TuA-orMxrg/s400/Summit.jpg" width="400px" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/matthew_parent_visuals/" target="_blank">A top the summit of "The Life You Can Save" 5.12+, 13 pitches, 350m</a><br />
<a href="https://www.instagram.com/matthew_parent_visuals/" target="_blank">Image: Matthew Parent</a></td></tr>
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<span class="s1">Sitting in a dilapidated cafe in the New York suburb of Queens. I stared through the dirt smeared window at the newly opened Cliffs Climbing gym across the road. I had began working at the gym just over a year prior and during that time, my life had gone through a number of dramatic changes. I had moved house twice, I had spent most of my savings on vet bills when my dog came down with kidney failure, my grandma had passed away and to top it all off, I was getting divorced.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">As I sat there contemplating my life, the waitress skipped past and refilled my mug with coffee. I had reluctantly moved to New York a few years earlier to be closer to my wife but now that we were no longer together, I wasn't sure why I was here. You see, prior to my arrival in the big apple, I had been living in the rural mountain town of Infiesto in Northern Spain, building an eco-house for a friend and exploring the world of climbing development. From my small cottage on top of the hill, I had incredible views of the Picos De Europa and although I had little money, I loved being so close to nature. So what was I doing here in New York City? </span></div>
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<span class="s1">Adding a splash of milk to my cup, coffee clouds billowed around their ceramic cage while and the question resonated over in my mind. Were my problems really that bad or were they simply a passing phase, a storm in a cup?</span></div>
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<span class="s1">My friend Dan entered the cafe and sat down opposite me. Dan, alongside being a talented artist, was one of the strongest and most humble climbers I had ever met. He was well known locally for his casual 5.13 on-sights and establishing numerous hard boulder problems. He was one my favorite people I’d met in NY and it just so happened, he too was experiencing a life funk<b>. </b></span></div>
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<span class="s1">“Whats up mate?” he asked,<b> </b>“I’m lost” I replied. “Yerrr, I feel ya mate” he said. There was no need to go into details, Dan knew what I was going through. “We should get out of here and head somewhere warm where we can climb more, I’ve had enough of this city.” I nodded in agreement and took a large gulp of coffee. I’d felt the same as Dan for some time but I had no idea what I wanted to do or where I wanted to go.The biggest obstacle of all though was not the what or the where, but that I lacked the courage to leave at all. I felt like a coward.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">In the four years I’d lived in the city, I’d become complacent with my lifestyle. Like most of the city dwellers, I’d become comfortably wrapped up in the rat race and paper chase. My ideals which I once held so highly were to follow my bliss, contribute only positivity to that around me and fear nothing but complacency, had all but vanished. My new goal in life was a simple one. To attain a higher paying salary, regardless of its affect on the world at large and to own increasingly expensive items, non of which I really cared for. This for me was an all time low. I was ashamed of what I had become and it was eating away at me little by little in the shape of depression. I knew then that I needed to find a balance in my life, something that would remove me from this downward spiral and fill the gap that money couldn’t.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Settling my $2 bill for the four cups of deathly sweet coffee I had consumed, we exited the greasy spoon cafe. “I’m going to leave New York” I told him on the way out, “me too” he replied. We laughed, both of us were clueless as to where we were going to go, but we knew that if we voiced it out loud, we would commit to it. Barely a week had passed when the idea came to me. I had just finished establishing a climbing program for at-risk youth in Queens called ClimbUp as part of my job for a local climbing gym. On the first night, as the small group was leaving, I was taken by surprise when the kids sprung towards me with gleaming smiles and thanked me for putting the program together. I didn’t really know what to say to them and gave a generic reply along the lines of “you’re welcome”. Later that night as I dwelled on my day, this seemingly small event repeated over in my mind. Something inside of me felt a huge sense of satisfaction from being able to give an opportunity to someone less fortunate. Having grown up below the poverty level, I felt that I could relate to the struggle these kids faced and wished that I had been given more opportunities when I was their age, and with this, my mind was made up. Later that same week, I caught up with Dan again. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">“I’ve decided what I’m going to do, I’m going to go Mexico and help with an at risk youth program”, I said. He smiled, “Get it mate!” </span></div>
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<span class="s1">This drastic change in my life came as no surprise to Dan. I’d visited Mexico earlier that year with a climbing friend, Tiffany Hensley after hearing rumors of a canyon abundant in virgin rock and it had sparked a fire inside me.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">While we were there, she had introduced me to Rory Smith, a bright thinker and passionate writer who was also the co-founder of an at-risk youth program Escalando Fronteras based in Monterrey, Mexico. The program was fairly new and focused on educating and empowering gang youths in impoverished parts of the city through the medium of rock climbing. Though they were gaining traction in the climbing world, they were fledgling and needed volunteers to help mentor kids and expand the program. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">At the time, I spoke barely a word of Spanish outside of a courtesy phrases of “Hola, como estas?” and “Yo quiero uno café con leche, por favor”. Not exactly empowering phrases. Alongside this, I knew little to nothing about Mexico as a whole and the little I did was news stories of cartels and drug wars. Having spent a good amount of time in the middle east, I was not easily deterred and decided that I could fill this role in the charity, though I knew it would take a lot of work. With little more than a brief email to Escalando Fronteras, I made a plan to change my life and leave New York. And so it began.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">To make this trip a reality, I realized the first thing I needed to do was to save money. To accomplish this, I would follow the growing trend of dirtbags and move my life from a New York apartment, into a van. This may sound like a sacrifice of space, but to anyone familiar with city apartments, there was little difference between the two other than the loss of a bathroom. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">Over the following 3 weeks, I began working on the van every night in an effort to transform the “tin-can” into a home. I Installed everything I thought I would need to live somewhat comfortably including a bed, kitchen area with cooker, ceiling fan, storage area, solar panels, lights and of course, bluetooth surround sound for movie nights. The long work nights required to complete the transformation in such a tight schedule would only end when I collapsed with exhaustion, often in a pile of sawdust and with tools still in my hand.</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRzIs2JqBZnrSA5Xjb44Zgb6igGc9whgFmjxDfWqQErORG7Hsh_v5mmkpmJXQdjvlqovi7HcqqOmHnN8NoLP2vNxwiIyxjaeCQQUnHHZxQYuc6WKqEd25QQINFgCLkzT8pO72NRefgL3c/s1600/Vaninside.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRzIs2JqBZnrSA5Xjb44Zgb6igGc9whgFmjxDfWqQErORG7Hsh_v5mmkpmJXQdjvlqovi7HcqqOmHnN8NoLP2vNxwiIyxjaeCQQUnHHZxQYuc6WKqEd25QQINFgCLkzT8pO72NRefgL3c/s400/Vaninside.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inside the completed "Van-sion"<br />
<a href="https://www.instagram.com/matthew_parent_visuals/" target="_blank">Image: Matthew Parent</a></td></tr>
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<span class="s1">As November arrived, it marked the end of those long weeks of “Van-gineering” and I prepared to hit the road heading south to Monterrey after a brief pass through Boulder, Colorado to pick up Tiffany. As we approached the border, we each confessed our nervousness about crossing the border. We had both heard horror stories about violent crimes, kidnappings and cartel road blocks. Having spent a good chunk of time living in the Middle East a few years prior, I knew much of what the news reported in the US was far from accurate, often heavily dramatized and laced with sensationalism. I decided to contact some friends that had driven down previously to get a real pulse on Mexico. They confirmed my suspicions that although there are some sketchy areas which should be avoided, it was no different that walking the streets of Harlem after dark. Armed with this new knowledge and 2 keychains of pepper spray “just in case”, we hopped the border and took the Carretera Nacional to Monterrey.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Arriving safely at our new home in poverty polygon 53, we immediately set about getting involved with Escalando Fronteras by sharing the gear that had been kindly donated by the project sponsors and drawing up our Climbing Beyond Cartels IndieGoGo campaign to help raise funds for the charity. One morning shortly after the campaign launch, I was guzzling down my regular pint of morning coffee when Rory came downstairs and tapped me on the shoulder. “Dude, Alex Honnold just donated to the IndieGoGo Campaign!” </span></div>
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<span class="s1">The news came as a huge surprise. We were a small non-profit operating on nothing more than the efforts and good intentions of volunteers. To have one of the most respected climbers in the world support our passion bestowed a huge sense of validation. “He donated to naming a route, what you gonna bolt?” Rory asked with a ginormous smile on his face. “I have no idea” I replied, as I stared into my coffee cup hoping for an idea to materialize. As I slurped the final dregs of my coffee, I continued to draw a blank and decided to go the park in search of inspiration for the new route.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">To name a climbing route is a privileged act. It requires that someone must first establish a line by cleaning, bolting and then climbing the route. During my time in Mexico, it was my goal to equip routes that the IndieGoGo campaign donors themselves could one day climb. I once read that the average climber climbs 5.9, so I had been trying to stick between the 5.6 and 5.11 grade range, however, bolting a route for Alex was a different animal. Alex is best known for his daring free-solo ascents and “Sufferfests”. This was a high bar to meet, but after sitting in my van for several hours staring at rocks through some binoculars, I discovered one place where I could equip a line that was fitting for such a climbing “rockstar”. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmya7fmkPkfNyRzgduS5iaGZhh1Ac35EjZZIRrbp63Eo7BCwk4K7-pJ2M4-DqOGI-TFFNRxEULZJaUk4cM8fUr5fLAM1mDXNAa_CWdo_qPjMJvthaAd7r3KBQ7TqwaW1SHJ6mLGqOhyo4/s1600/2015031416832MP-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmya7fmkPkfNyRzgduS5iaGZhh1Ac35EjZZIRrbp63Eo7BCwk4K7-pJ2M4-DqOGI-TFFNRxEULZJaUk4cM8fUr5fLAM1mDXNAa_CWdo_qPjMJvthaAd7r3KBQ7TqwaW1SHJ6mLGqOhyo4/s400/2015031416832MP-2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Checking out the walls in Huasteca<br />
<a href="https://www.instagram.com/matthew_parent_visuals/" target="_blank">Image: Matthew Parent</a></td></tr>
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<span class="s1">The North face of Pico Independencia in Parque La Huasteca is an incredible wall that guards the entrance to the park. It had seen little attention from the climbing community, held no direct line and It’s giant towers capture the imagination of even the most hardened city slicker when stood at their feet. Considering its size, location and potential, <a href="http://www.parquelahuasteca.com/" target="_blank">Parque La Huasteca</a> was relatively unknown outside of Monterrey and it’s most accurate guidebook was a decade out-of-date. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">Searching the face from the floor below, I was able to identify a virgin line that ran from the base to the summit direct, tackling the blankest section of the wall and climbing straight through the overhanging roof that loomed 200m above. It would be the king line on the face, a test piece for anyone visiting and fitting for a big wall master. My biggest dilemma of all though was not finding the line, it was finding a partner.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">There are few people that I know who have enough knowledge or experience to help with such a task, even fewer that have time for a multi-week endeavor in Mexico. I reached out to everyone I knew that might be able to join me on the wall but it quickly dawned on me that if this was going to happen at all, I’d be doing it alone.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Accepting that this would be a solo mission, I began strategizing how I’d approach the route, ground up or top down? A ground up is when you begin at the base of the wall and climb on lead to the summit, placing equipment as you go. It is widely recognized as the purest style of new route development, particularly on big walls. The theory goes that you can better establish a natural line ground up as you’re able to feel out the route as you go. Top down on the other hand, is sometimes frowned upon. The argument against it is that it requires less skill and that you remove the adventure (danger) from the route development. My personal opinion, developing a new route is an artistic expression, like writing a story in rock where the holds represent the words and the protection, the periods. </span>Which style you choose to equip a route in is down to the artist, though there are plenty of inflated ego's that would argue otherwise. Besides, sport routes are by their very nature exactly what they say, sport. Routes designed to be safe while pushing the difficulty of what is physically possible.</div>
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<span class="s1">For this route, I decided I would first go top down, inspecting the rock on rappel and bolting anchors as I descended where I envisioned each pitch would start and end. This not only allowed me to confirm the line was possible but it also provided an opportunity to deposit gear stashes on the wall and clean any large rocks that might be teetering on the edge, waiting for me to unsuspectingly pull on while on the way up.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">The day of the "first descent", my two friends Matt Castellon and Ramon Narvaez joined me for the inspection. As we descended down and I rigged the first 100m of the route, it became apparent that the rock would need some cleaning to allow for a safe route. Arriving at the end of my second fixed line, I bolted an anchor and stared down at the following pitch in bewilderment. An aptly named “Death Block” sat some 30 feet below me, held to the wall by little more than small succulents plants and dirt. It measured what I guessed to be roughly 3ft wide by 20ft tall and as thick as a sidewalk. I rappelled down until I was within arms reach of the block and gave it a gentle nudge to check its integrity with an ice axe, my chosen rock cleaning device. Camming the pick head behind the bloc, I began to gently tilt back the axe handle, gauging the blocks willingness to hold to the wall. Without warning, the giant block free’d itself from the wall and plummeted down to earth on a schizophrenic trajectory, bouncing off the wall below as it went. My stomach sank and I watched helplessly as the rock crashed into the ground with such force that chunks the size of basketballs were landing near my van over a five hundred feet away.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">As the dust settled, I desperately scanned the area where chunks of the bloc now lay scattered and prayed no one was in the blast zone of the exploding rock, which to my relief, there were none. An orange scar replaced the space where the block had once sat and I was left spooked by the experience. Had I chosen to climb ground up without an inspection, I could have easily been in the path of the falling block which would have undoubtedly killed me if I had been in its path. Collecting my thoughts, I brushed back the soil left behind from the deceased block and continued to navigate my way down in search of the best line. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzouLJPtYhWvxysf0ph_24XhyiaDF3ALgjiqFFm8Vk7ZmTyIWTwYRHRDdVLJmTslCdO2aGguVF9B3jxEIAQZOrjBkyWp6itUtnxdLEUwL51isi42eXURXQlcz2pnkwNYg2PBX3jcgq5hM/s1600/11823769_10154439309737619_2007703587_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzouLJPtYhWvxysf0ph_24XhyiaDF3ALgjiqFFm8Vk7ZmTyIWTwYRHRDdVLJmTslCdO2aGguVF9B3jxEIAQZOrjBkyWp6itUtnxdLEUwL51isi42eXURXQlcz2pnkwNYg2PBX3jcgq5hM/s400/11823769_10154439309737619_2007703587_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Removing some "death blocks"<br />
<a href="https://www.instagram.com/matthew_parent_visuals/" target="_blank">Image: Matthew Parent</a></td></tr>
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<span class="s1">After several hours of cleaning, the evening began to fade and the prospect of finding the complete line diminished with the setting sun. Having rigged lines down more than half the 1200ft of wall, I counted my blessings and decided it was a good time to bail. I bolted an anchor and tied together two 70m ropes to enable us to rappel to the ground in a single shot. Reaching the ground, I stepped back and peered up at the looming peak above. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">As I reflected upon the task at hand, the realization of how much work was needed to complete this route hit me and I felt completely overwhelmed. we had spent close to 10 hours on the wall during this first day and had accomplished relatively little. I’d placed roughly half the anchors bolts and removed some of the large blocks along the way but completion of the route seemed distant. So far in fact, I doubted I could finish it before my time in Mexico was up and I would be forced to return to the US to renew my visa.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">That evening after arriving back home, I returned “drawing board” to reassess my battle plan for the wall. What I had originally envisioned as a solo, ground-up approach where I would fix lines over time seemed unlikely to be successful given the current time frame. The wall already had several unfinished lines and I was not looking to add another. My new plan involved an unconventional mixed approach. I would take the Via Ferrata to the summit of Pico Independencia as before and rappel down the face equipping the blankest pitches on rappel and for the easier pitches, I would equip on lead. This was not a style I had ever heard anyone using before, but I also hadn't heard of anyone equipping routes of this size on there own before.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">While I lacked a climbing partner for equipping the route, I was blessed with some incredible friends and an amazing climbing community that were willing to help me sherpa the hundreds of bolts, 8 batteries, 10 ropes, food and water for 2 weeks, a portaledge, solar panels and various other climbing gizmos up the Via Ferrata to the top of the mountain in preparation. Reaching the summit in the early evening, we shared some food, hugged and said our goodbyes. I followed them to the south side of the peak and watched as they rappelled off the mountain. As the last person descended down and the team pulled the rope, I watched as it whipped through the anchor leaving behind the familiar ring of rattling chains. Walking back to where my gear lay piled on summit, I took a moment to look out over the city which now seemed so far away. I was alone.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I stared at my pile of gear sitting beside the summit and decided I would organize it ready for the wall the next day. It was my way of drowning out feelings of loneliness with a sense of busyness. There was little to do in earnest, my OCD had already seen to the size and color coordination of everything in my pack from the climbing gear to clothing. Even my food supplies were neatly packaged into daily meal rations to ensure I knew how many days I had left on the wall. There was nothing left to do. I lay out my sleeping pad on the floor and climbed inside my sleeping bag. The night was clear and the air blew frostily across my face as I stared at the stars above, wondering what tomorrow would bring. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">I woke early the next morning to catch the sunrise over the city. The light cut across the valleys many layers like blades. I fixed coffee and eggs on the small stove I had brought with me and stuffed my sleeping equipment into their sacks. The day ahead was going to be long and tiresome and once I left the summit, I had no plans to return. Finishing off breakfast and a gut shaking three cups of coffee, I packed away all the equipment and one by one, carried the haul bags to the lip of the cliff. After completing one final “Idiot Check”, I rigged my rope, took a final glance out at the city and stepped over the edge into the void below. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhedhRVci2aDHoygJBzYRjqJC_32P3AvvWwOVJsrQXRVjyR6zg4nRgbXMeJNntWYUJC1HC1a8pX8URWmrNHuDv-1J0rjjmYO5UCr_CrAF2qWV5LbPxg4_qTZ7jNwwcv85-K8_e5iaTo-eg/s1600/2015031216210MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhedhRVci2aDHoygJBzYRjqJC_32P3AvvWwOVJsrQXRVjyR6zg4nRgbXMeJNntWYUJC1HC1a8pX8URWmrNHuDv-1J0rjjmYO5UCr_CrAF2qWV5LbPxg4_qTZ7jNwwcv85-K8_e5iaTo-eg/s400/2015031216210MP.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Working the fixed lines to clean and bolt<br />
<a href="https://www.instagram.com/matthew_parent_visuals/" target="_blank">Image: Matthew Parent</a></td></tr>
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<span class="s1">The wall below was blank and sheer vertical. Strong winds carrying stones and dirt blasted up the wall into my eyes and the sense of exposure rang through my body. Securing the bags to the anchor, I holstered my bolting equipment to my harness and began the tedious and sometimes forgotten process of cleaning the route in preparation for equipping. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">Mexico had a stark reputation for chossy routes, my goal for this new route was to raise the bar for development quality and to do this, I would meticulously brush and scrape every square inch of rock within 6 feet either side of where the route would be, ensuring there would be no surprises for the climbers on the way up. Doing this also allowed me to better place the bolts in good clipping positions, knowing the rock around it would not be altered by breaking off at a later date.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">The hours passed by quickly up there on the wall. From sunrise to sunset I would repeat the process of rappelling a rope length and cleaning. If the wall was blank, I would ascend back up the rope and take a second pass to place bolts. When the wall was more featured, I would equip from the bottom up using hooks to make progress between the bolt placements or simply climb with the drill racked to my harness. At the end of each day, I would attach my equipment at my furthest point of progress and retrieve my portaledge from the wall above by jumaring the fixed lines I had left in place. This process of cleaning, bolting and moving camp continued for 30 days in total, spread out over the months of February and March.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">On the morning of April 1st 2015, I placed the final bolt in the wall at the base of Pico Independencia, completing what had been for me, one of my greatest adventures and life achievements to date. Removing my climbing gear which by this point had rubbed me sore, I dropped it on the ground beside my hauls bags and stared up at the giant wall above. The route was complete, but the adventure was far from over. To make the route official, I would now need to climb it cleanly from the ground up, hopefully, without falling.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc_LLbDsYnMe60X0x2tdgwh4-M2rGS_oV8YCJqnsVcerSodRyrJIffM4TsDInFzvoCKEuoSxvDnHEsK5x0yH7jLh1pbjwo74Hc_XSeJDD0jCHdGa8pckqGzhaWLxKtilgV0wN3uFfr80M/s1600/2015031216292MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc_LLbDsYnMe60X0x2tdgwh4-M2rGS_oV8YCJqnsVcerSodRyrJIffM4TsDInFzvoCKEuoSxvDnHEsK5x0yH7jLh1pbjwo74Hc_XSeJDD0jCHdGa8pckqGzhaWLxKtilgV0wN3uFfr80M/s400/2015031216292MP.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tightening a bolt to its perfect tension with a torque wrench<br />
<a href="https://www.instagram.com/matthew_parent_visuals/" target="_blank">Image: Matthew Parent</a></td></tr>
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<span class="s1">That evening when I returned home, I quickly set about finding a climbing partner to tackle the route with me. A good friend of mine Carlos Flores, a bold climber and accomplished route developer from Monterrey quickly took up my offer and we arranged to meet early the next day at the entrance to the park. I felt incredibly fortunate to have Carlos as my partner. Alongside being a skilled climber, he was a very good problem solver, critical to a fault with a no nonsense approach to everything he did and I knew that whatever challenges we found on the wall during the climb, he would be an asset in overcoming them.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">The following morning came quickly and I awoke to the familiar sound of my phone alarm bellowing its digital tune, accompanied by the rattling of it’s vibration against the wooden side table. I had barely slept a wink, the anticipation of climbing the route had kept me awake much of the night and now I struggled to pull myself out of bed for the big day. I rose like a zombie and glanced at the time. Somewhere between the ten alarms going off and getting up, I had lost over an hour and I was due to meet Carlos in just 20 minutes. I hastily gathered my belongings for the day ahead and made my way to the park. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">Passing by the guarded entrance to the park and over a short concrete bridge, I arrived at the large carpark where I found Carlos and my friend Ingrid waiting. We spent a few moments catching up with the mandatory kiss on the cheek for the ladies and a slap-fist handshake combo for the guys before double checking our gear for the day and going over the plan of attack one more time.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA1uNtvJlA2j2x2C0GAXmzRtLHU5YBCQCR-ZW7nQUvHyxoLZsd5mLaQGXZFbbgDIkM6bFWYoAdp-v4kYG52cI09tTCYaQegpI6pj2Z2KI2Duk0EJl4hIBdrjYhgK8XMvbmExqQMvRqzok/s1600/Carlos.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA1uNtvJlA2j2x2C0GAXmzRtLHU5YBCQCR-ZW7nQUvHyxoLZsd5mLaQGXZFbbgDIkM6bFWYoAdp-v4kYG52cI09tTCYaQegpI6pj2Z2KI2Duk0EJl4hIBdrjYhgK8XMvbmExqQMvRqzok/s400/Carlos.JPG" width="330" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The main man, Carlos Flores a top Pico Independencia<br />
<a href="https://www.instagram.com/matthew_parent_visuals/" target="_blank">Image: Matthew Parent</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="s1">We aimed to climb the route light and fast, taking with us just 2 liters of water, a small amount of food and a basic sport climbing rack. Alongside Carlos, my good friend and camera wizard, <a href="https://www.instagram.com/matthew_parent_visuals/" target="_blank">Matthew Parent</a> was joining us for the climb to capture our ascent. Armed with a coffee in one hand, a bag of skittles in the other and wearing a backpack full of gear, we made our way to the base of the wall.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Arriving at the base some 30 minutes later feeling clammier a walrus in the tropics, we readied our rope and distributed the weight evenly between our day packs for the send. Re-tracing my figure eight knot, I checked one last time that we had everything we needed for a hasty retreat should anything go unexpectedly wrong. A big wall accident in the Middle East a few years earlier had forged a healthy respect for preparation within me and I had since developed an almost paranoid outlook for potential climbing hazards.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Completing my myriad checks and feeling prepared for what lay ahead, I pulled on my shoes, gave a fist pound to Carlos to signify I was ready and began the journey across the slab that marked the entrance to the wall. The pitch was short and sweet, just a couple of bolts to protect the 16m of easy climbing. I clipped to the anchors upon reaching them and Carlos quickly climbed up to join me. Leap frogging the belay, he immediately set out on the next pitch of the route, one which I had guessed to be relatively easy, somewhere in the region of 5.8 in difficulty.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">He moved out left from the belay to a slabby ledge where the wall gradually kicked back into an ever steepening face. Reaching a small bulge 15ft from the belay, he paused for a minute, as if figuring out the next moves. “How’s it look?” I asked, “I thought this pitch would go at about 5.8”. Carlos didn’t reply, he was focused on the task at hand but It did seem unusual that he would need to pause at all on a climb of this grade. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">Fifteen minutes passed when I heard the call “LIBRE!” from Carlos above, announcing he was at the anchor and safe to take off belay. As Carlos retrieved the excess rope between us while I strapped on my shoes and prepared for what I was expecting to be a very quick and casual climb to the anchors. “SEGURO!” Carlos shouted down to me, the Spanish equivalent of “On Belay” and I unclipped my anchors and began climbing. Upon reaching the bulge where I had seen Carlos pause earlier, I soon realized why. The bulge that we had to climb through was an awkward shape and the holds I’d envisioned you’d use for the move were much more difficult to hold than I had previously thought due to the deceptive steepness of the wall. I paused there a moment to figure out the moves before climbing past and meeting Carlos at the belay. “I don’t think that was 5.8” I said, “Maybe closer to 5.10c”, Carlos nodded his head in agreement.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7BwlCMesEDNG4RVCrCdjxNt6-PwzlWh9eKCL9_moJi_s6jHZbYu4KS7iVXHkkj8GthPBbU3fdZ9b0HhO1uDaZc3sC7Q6-nhtLhN2a5vshymUCMQmVxRH1KAu8AeEBYn8BxrVbpVoA9qQ/s1600/2015040224463MP.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7BwlCMesEDNG4RVCrCdjxNt6-PwzlWh9eKCL9_moJi_s6jHZbYu4KS7iVXHkkj8GthPBbU3fdZ9b0HhO1uDaZc3sC7Q6-nhtLhN2a5vshymUCMQmVxRH1KAu8AeEBYn8BxrVbpVoA9qQ/s640/2015040224463MP.JPG" width="425" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carlos cruising up pitch 11 of "The Life You Can Save"<br />
<a href="https://www.instagram.com/matthew_parent_visuals/" target="_blank">Image: Matthew Parent</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
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<span class="s1">As I prepared to lead the next pitch, I was troubled by how wrong my grade prediction for the last pitch had been. I had already seen the entire route while bolting and guessed there would not be a single pitch harder than 5.11b, but now I wasn’t so sure. The most troubling part of it all however, was that I was certain that there was a harder pitch above, I just wasn’t sure how much harder and I questioned whether we would be able to reach the summit at all.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Leaving the belay and moving up into the 3rd pitch, I tick-tacked around the easy terrain and followed the steel path upwards. The pitch seemed easier than I had guessed and a small sense of relief briefly fell over me. The relief was short lived though as just 2ft from the anchor, the holds seemed to suddenly disappear, forcing me to hold a tenuous position on small holds while I scanned the wall desperately for the next move. The wall was blank all around except for a distant crimp out right toward the belay. I bore down on the sharp edges and moved my feet out to my side and rocked over to the anchor with my arms burning. Clipping the chains, my arms were pumped solid. I called down to Carlos and he began up the pitch. He make quick work of the climb but also had some difficulties reaching the anchor. I looked at Carlos, “That was ‘ard getting to the anchors ay?” Carlos agreed. I had once again managed to undermine the routes difficulty and it was now much harder than I had ever anticipated.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCA5pr9g506fWku-PqDuK0PJaBOYwy0fEUlfc4tQU-amVt1insQvMUM66gz7FZI6EmtVRnlfuVQC5nOeZAAukazFq6cK2pmAdN5dJbONKq9FiQAskA2U-D53O7j_yyQBnM5G7zYoPI-1c/s1600/2015040224475MP.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCA5pr9g506fWku-PqDuK0PJaBOYwy0fEUlfc4tQU-amVt1insQvMUM66gz7FZI6EmtVRnlfuVQC5nOeZAAukazFq6cK2pmAdN5dJbONKq9FiQAskA2U-D53O7j_yyQBnM5G7zYoPI-1c/s640/2015040224475MP.JPG" width="424" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Feeling the pain during the ascent of "The Life You Can Save"<br />
<a href="https://www.instagram.com/matthew_parent_visuals/" target="_blank">Image: Matthew Parent</a></td></tr>
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</div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1">We didn't hang around long at the anchor, both of us eager to reach the summit. We continued up the looming wall above, taking down the next four pitches with ease, leap frogging who lead as we navigated the various crimps and corner systems. Reaching pitch eight, It was my turn to take the lead and I nervously pulled on my shoes ready for challenge ahead. Pitch eight had been the one I feared was impossible since the realization of my grading mishap on pitch three. Now staring it in the face, I was right to be nervous. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">The pitch above was long, sparse of holds and ended above a large roof. I felt intimidated by the prospect of climbing it and I could tell Carlos knew this well, even though I was trying my best not to let it show. This was something I liked about climbing with Carlos and why we climbed well as a team. He made a good partner not necessarily because he was the strongest climber, but the one I knew I could rely on to overcome challenges on the wall with me when things got tough. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">After a quick partner check, I gave a fist pound to Carlos and he encouraged me with positivity, shouting “VENGAAAA!” as I battled upwards.The wall looked bare from below though I knew there were holds there, I just had to remember where. I had touched the holds when bolting to be sure the moves were possible but from my current view point, it all looked much the same. Like following a braille trail, I slowly felt my way around thin holds, utilizing what I could to progress upward through the tenuously small and technical movements. Reaching a blank section of wall around 20ft short of the roof, I paused to decide what to do next. My arms by this point were beginning to burn intensely from the lactic acid build up in them and I knew I had to keep moving before my arms gave in if I was to climb the pitch cleanly. The only hold I could see was a smooth mono pocket a few feet above me that would be at the end of my reach. I saw no other option and threw desperately for it. </span></div>
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<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
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<span class="s1">By some stroke of luck, I had managed to catch the pocket perfectly while simultaneously keeping my feet fixed firmly on the tiny foot holds which i’d pushed off into to gain height. My arms rang with numbness from the pump and my legs shook from the strain of holding the tension. I clipped the bolt near the pocket and escaped out left to a ledge at the start of the overhang where I was able to stand for sometime, battling my body's desire vomit. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj18edvqiuux8LzWlEgIPdzJQVDIKvaPqA3CL9X30ibh46DQAjSdvJEvar4H5nvfR6q47x335JfEhmanC1IEjehvazpspzySAdgEm3Z1Fr7GZhnBtC7hbJP3dxzwYqcj8X0NPgfIYUgqHo/s1600/2015040224474MP.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj18edvqiuux8LzWlEgIPdzJQVDIKvaPqA3CL9X30ibh46DQAjSdvJEvar4H5nvfR6q47x335JfEhmanC1IEjehvazpspzySAdgEm3Z1Fr7GZhnBtC7hbJP3dxzwYqcj8X0NPgfIYUgqHo/s400/2015040224474MP.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Navigating the technical moves with Carlos on belay<br />
<a href="https://www.instagram.com/matthew_parent_visuals/" target="_blank">Image: Matthew Parent</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="s1">As the feeling slowly returned to my arms and my stomach settled, I eyed the final section of the pitch that tackled the leaning overhang and lead me out above a 180m of space. Regaining my composure, I left the respite of the ledge continued to climb, reaching out far to my right where I could see a spear shaped hold in the roof. I latched on tightly to its edge and I crossed my left hand over to a small crimp in the roof, my feet poised ready for the committing step out into the void. I glanced down briefly at the ground below, acknowledging the exposure that surrounded me and then began what I can only describe as “clawing” my way to the chains. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">It wasn’t pretty, every move closer to the chains felt as though I was fighting a personal battle with gravity itself. My motions were jerky, accompanied by embarrassing screams and snarfs as I desperately fought my arms desire to give up. As the wall transitioned from roof to slab, I was able to stand up and clip the chains, my whole body relieved to have finished the pitch. “LIBRE!” I yelled down to Carlos.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Upon witnessing the struggle I had with the pitch and counting our daylight hours, Carlos decided he would jumar the pitch. I fixed the line and he made his way up to me, a wide smile beaming across his face. “Sounded hard” he said upon arriving at the anchor. We both laughed. He had heard everything from the belay below and was making light hearted fun of how ridiculous I sounded. While I removed my shoes to air my throbbing feet, Carlos got ready to lead the next pitch which tackled the remainder of the overhang and climbed out onto the headwall above. Checking each other one last time, we fist bumped and Carlos took to the sharp end. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">Moving out into the roof, Carlos breezed through the bottom section and out of view. Seeing how easy he had moved through the moves, I had payed out a good amount of rope to ensure there would not be any rope drag and I didn't short rope him while he climbed. The side effect of this is that if he was to fall, he would take a screaming whipper out into space… which is exactly what happened next. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">I wasn’t aware at the time, but just over the lip, Carlos was unable to find the hidden hold that made upward progress possible and as I peered out over the mountains to take in the incredible views of Monterrey, Carlos came suddenly screeching into my sight with a bellowing “FUUUUUCKKKKKKKKKKKK!”. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">Carlos had reached for a hold over the roof only to find there was no hold, and thanks to the spacial bolting (and all the extra rope I had given him), Carlos took to the sky, reaching the apex of his impressive 20ft whipper almost level with where I was, but hanging out in space. Our eyes met as the rope came tight and I could tell he was surprised by how far he fell. I guess he was probably wondering what on earth I was doing at the belay. He quickly shook off the fall and pulled back onto the wall. Reaching his previous high point, he tried again for a different hold and once again found nothing which resulted in yet another big fall into the space. This whipper experience repeated a couple of times but Carlos being Carlos, tenaciously continued to pull back onto the wall and fight time and time again to find the right hold which he eventually did and our upward progress continued once more.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq0ROIvcKbUCJP0owL5trI38n0neD7p_70UjFvyiA4tm-Ny7AYAbiYrxXMMIdWe_bVlXmK2_BU6Mlwu9u9ShTOcISSKZNZ9apECISLnFnyHXokh8BM8v-fKYamSbOL-w5A6AcfOUCrEsI/s1600/Exhausted+belay.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq0ROIvcKbUCJP0owL5trI38n0neD7p_70UjFvyiA4tm-Ny7AYAbiYrxXMMIdWe_bVlXmK2_BU6Mlwu9u9ShTOcISSKZNZ9apECISLnFnyHXokh8BM8v-fKYamSbOL-w5A6AcfOUCrEsI/s400/Exhausted+belay.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The tiredness beginning to show high on the wall<br />
<a href="https://www.instagram.com/matthew_parent_visuals/" target="_blank">Image: Matthew Parent</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="s1">We dispatched the following two pitches above the roof quickly and efficiently. Changing leads as we moved ever closer to the top of the peak which we so desperately wanted to reach. Arriving at the last difficult pitch below the summit, the 10 hours of climbing were beginning to show as our arms cramped and spasmed from the dehydration and exhaustion. I guzzled down the last of my water with the hope it would relieve the cramps which were now crippling my ability to hold the rock and began up the final technical face. I moved awkwardly through the holds above, the cramps in my arms came in unpredictable waves that made my hands distort into odd shapes that made them unusable while they lasted. I tried to ignore the pain and wait out the cramps until I was able to use the limb once more to make progress but it was a losing battle. At the crux of the pitch which involved a wide iron cross move, both my arms began to spasm and unable to control my own hands, I fell. </span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1">I hung there in my harness for a few minutes, venting my frustration with some choice words. </span><br />
<span class="s1"><br /></span>
<span class="s1">I had climbed every pitch to this point clean only to fall on one of the easier pitches due to something that I failed to plan adequately for. I felt disappointed with myself and my performance. I stared at my contorted hands, waiting for cramps to leave and control of my arms to be returned so that I could complete the final 30ft to the summit. As the feeling returned to my hands, I pulled back onto the wall once more and struggled my way to the chains, all the while battling with the cramps.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOdSthBxnkF3FiKiPTt0RsKRwDClsEidKENwtiCSdLo3eGGI6k9E7VZN3HGgfC4FMfjWbSfRsF-NnlMxsfs_k_73-bsSbGVNdgsKI4HcveAe898DbiecYqWEmWuUSHafVSlxR_OAi4_kI/s1600/Big+Walls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOdSthBxnkF3FiKiPTt0RsKRwDClsEidKENwtiCSdLo3eGGI6k9E7VZN3HGgfC4FMfjWbSfRsF-NnlMxsfs_k_73-bsSbGVNdgsKI4HcveAe898DbiecYqWEmWuUSHafVSlxR_OAi4_kI/s400/Big+Walls.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gaz Leah holding the Iron cross move on tiny foot holds<br />
<a href="https://www.instagram.com/matthew_parent_visuals/" target="_blank">Image: Matthew Parent</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="s1">Reaching the final anchor, I clipped in and Carlos came up to join me. When he arrived, we removed our gear with relief and walked the short distance to the summit where our friends Matt and Ingrid were waiting expectantly for us. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">As we took a moment to celebrate our ascent, the pains and frustrations subsided and I felt as though a weight had been lifted. This route had become more than just another climb for me. I had poured everything I had into this piece of rock and by completing the wall, I had fulfilled a promise to both Escalando Fronteras and myself to raise much needed funding for the cause, contribute positively to the climbing community and follow my bliss beyond my comfort zone. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">That night when I returned home, I emailed the topo and route details to Alex and asked if he’d thought of a name for the route. “Off the top of my head I’d name it “The Life You Can Save” which is a great book by Peter Singer… But your call.” he replied.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Upon reading his email, I sat back in my office chair, dumbfounded by his response which struck a chord with my own personal philosophies. I couldn’t have thought of a more fitting name myself, after all, the book he was referring to discussed ending poverty and helping those less fortunate, values that were at the core of my work with Escalando Fronteras. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">I replied to Alex with a thank you email and confirmed that the route was now officially named. As I hit the send button, it dawned on me that a chapter in my life had come to an end and with it came an resounding lesson, and that lesson was this. Although climbing may seem irrelevant in the grand picture of world affairs, when we as climbers band together, our small positive actions, when multiplied by many, can bring about great change and move mountains!</span></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="s1">The life you can save.</span></div>
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<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<span class="s1"><b>General Info: Huasteca</b></span></h2>
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<span class="s1"><b>Getting There: </b></span></div>
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<span class="s1">Unless you're one of the few lucky ones that lives within Huasteca, you're going to need to travel here. The easiest way here is to fly and hire a car at the airport but for those who on a budget or looking for a adventure, road tripping or taking a bus will certainly earn you some stories!</span></div>
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<span class="s1">For a full list of directions, check out <a href="http://www.parquelahuasteca.com/"><span class="s2">www.ParqueLaHuasteca.com</span></a> and click the link for directions.</span></div>
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<span class="s1"><b>Accommodations: </b></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><b>Refugio Huasteca </b>is a small bed and breakfast located just outside the park. Run by local climbing guru Ramon Narvaez, they offer a no-frills accommodation and good vegan food for those who prefer the warmth of a room. *Must like dogs, they have 4.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Contact Ramon Narvaez through the Facebook page <a href="http://www.facebook.com/RefugioHuasteca"><span class="s2"><b>Refugio Huasteca</b></span></a>.</span></div>
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<span class="s1"><b>The Yage</b> is a beautiful and welcoming eco-village thats hosts campers year round. Located in the centre of the canyon with a 360 degree view of the mountains, a pool, a palapa and even yoga classes. This really is THE place to stay in Huasteca if you don’t mind camping. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">Contact Daniela Garza; (<a href="mailto:danielagarza44@yahoo.com"><span class="s2">danielagarza44@yahoo.com</span></a>) and see their website (<a href="http://www.yage.mx/"><span class="s2">www.Yage.mx</span></a>)</span></div>
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<span class="s1">They plan to build eco-domes in the near future enabling some more luxurious lodgings.</span></div>
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<span class="s1"><b>Amenities: </b></span></div>
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<span class="s1">There is a number of small stores near the entrance to the park including a eco-cycle cabin that rents bikes and offers bike tours. If you’re looking to grab more than a few basic items, there is a large supermarket just a 5 minute drive from the entrance called Soriana. If you’re looking for the best local food spots, the internet is little use in Mexico. Traditional Mexican food is best made by small stands and all the best spots in Mexico are found through local knowledge. Ask around and you’ll be surprised what you discover!</span></div>
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<span class="s1"><b>Season: </b></span></div>
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<span class="s1">Year round</span></div>
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<span class="s1"><b>Safety in Mexico: </b></span></div>
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<span class="s1">Mexico has a dicy history of violence between the drug cartel and the state which has jaded many people's view of the country. In recent year, the there has been little to no problems between the two rivals in or around Monterrey but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be wary. </span></div>
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<span class="s1"><b>Gear: </b></span></div>
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<span class="s1">Depending of which crag you’re at, you’ll likely want shorts and t-shirts for much of the season with a jacket on hand for the the big routes and evenings when the temperatures drop. You’ll also want 20 quickdraws, some of them extendable, and a 70m rope as many of the routes are over 30m in length.</span></div>
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<span class="s1"><b>Guidebook/Guides: </b></span></div>
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<span class="s1">Gareth “Gaz” Leah is in the process of completing an accurate guide to <a href="http://www.parquelahuasteca.com/" target="_blank">Parque La Huasteca</a> that is dubbed to be released in late 2016.</span></div>
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<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<span class="s1"><b>Route Topo </b></span></h2>
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</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><b>The Life You Can Save 5.12+, 13 pitches, 350m ***</b></span></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1">Established by British climber Gareth “Gaz” Leah during his initiative Project Wall-E for the NGO, Escalando Fronteras. The route takes the super direct line from the valley floor to the summit through a plethora of rock formations and styles. The route is very well equipped and the harder sections can be aided through by “french free” climbing. For those looking to climb the route over 2 days, It is possible to bivi under the roof at the 7th pitch, a hammock or portaledge is recommended.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Equipment: 15 quickdraws, 4 extendable runners, 70m rope</span></div>
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<span class="s1">P1: The short pitch starts at the large hueco and tackles the slab to a high first bolt and finishes at the two bolt anchor above. 5.6, 16m.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">P2: An easy start gets you established on the face where you are immediately met with some powerful static moves to overcome the roof. 5.10c, 30m.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">P3: A sucker pitch that is deceptively hard. Climb up from the belay into some 5.8 terrain where the wall gradually begins to kick back. Keep composed as you power up to the chains! 5.12a, 30m.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">P4: A challenging corner pitch that has a small run out at the beginning. 5.11a, 32m.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">P5: Follow the switching laybacks that require body tension and neat footwork. 5.11d, 33m.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">P6: A classic pitch that stems the giant flake to a ledge. 5.11b, 20m.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">P7: Technical moves off the belay lead the way for a sustained pitch that eases up just before the chains where you can go either left or right. 5.11a, 20m</span></div>
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<span class="s1">P8: The crux pitch of the route is both technically difficult, sustained and committing. Easy moves off the belay are short lived and the holds rapidly thin as the wall steepens. Strenuous moves gain the ledge before the roof when you must compose once more for a daunting step out into air! 5.12+, 35m.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">P9: Not for the faint of heart. Traverse out into the void and make difficult moves above to reach the belay. 5.11b, 30m.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">P10: Rock unlike anything else found in the valley. Climb the large huecos and pockets that litter the wall. 5.10c, 25m</span></div>
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<span class="s1">P11: Leave the belay and crimp your way up the thin face through a small roof. 5.10d, 25m</span></div>
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<span class="s1">P12: Just when you thought it was all over. Climb the thin face through a series of roof’s and difficult iron cross before it eases off. 5.11d, 32m.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">P13: Climb the blocs direct and head a little left after the only bolt to reach an anchor on the side of a large bloc. Walk to the summit. 5.6, 15m.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">R: Either rappel the route or descend via 3 rappels on the south side on the peak</span></div>
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<span class="s1"><i>FA Gareth “Gaz” Leah and Carlos Flores April 2015</i></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><i>Name donated by Alex Honnold as part of the Escalando Fronteras Initiative</i></span></div>
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Gaz Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03040791142330373049noreply@blogger.com78Santa Catarina, N.L., Mexico25.651730161558007 -100.4638552665710425.650835661558006 -100.46511576657105 25.652624661558008 -100.46259476657104tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2781717969934775808.post-89909543994733266212015-06-25T00:27:00.000-07:002015-06-26T23:01:25.427-07:00What can I do to make a difference? <div style="background-color: white; color: #777777; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.3999996185303px; margin-bottom: 1.8em;">
<span style="line-height: 23.3999996185303px;"><b>This question comes up a lot when talking to people about our project. People are incredibly supportive of the work and then ask "What can I do to help a cause?" The answer, although obvious, often surprises people. </b></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5XFF2Iiab9NEa6H27vEbmv86nZt5urMBUJmwrCkskbdwiUgSLgWzlWbfZwk5y7wZlD3rxj4PB5R3T7J9ytFPgDI0il0zgHaIKl-_ptRUiiEvsqxeHmKmrc8F_maprQNSlRabhpIgWszs/s1600/IMG_1150.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5XFF2Iiab9NEa6H27vEbmv86nZt5urMBUJmwrCkskbdwiUgSLgWzlWbfZwk5y7wZlD3rxj4PB5R3T7J9ytFPgDI0il0zgHaIKl-_ptRUiiEvsqxeHmKmrc8F_maprQNSlRabhpIgWszs/s400/IMG_1150.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tiffany Hensley taking the last moments of the day into her hands<br />
Credit: Gaz Leah</td></tr>
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<strong>BEGIN.</strong></div>
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It's that simple. Begin making a change, begin telling your friends about your change, why you do it and what it means. Inspire others to follow suite. Look at the resources your have available and decide how you want to make your difference in your life. </div>
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Time, equipment, skills, advice, networking and money are all a way in which you can contribute towards a cause. Whether you want to spend you time focused on curing cancer (<a href="http://www.climbersagainstcancer.org/" style="color: #111111; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Climbers Against Cancer</a>) or preventing the recruitment of child soldiers (<a href="http://www.escalandofronteras.org/" style="color: #111111; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Escalando Fronteras</a>), there are already causes out there working hard to make the world a better place and every addition to their cause strengthens their message.</div>
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IT'S EASY.</div>
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You needn't chain yourself to a fence, or hitch a ride above the green peace boat to make a change. Wearing a simple T-shirt with a cause that matters to you or even bringing up a discussion with your friends is all it takes. If you want to do more, AWESOME, take it as far as you want. </div>
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A couple of months back I was in El Potrero Chico and a gentleman from New York, Chalu Kim gave me 2 pairs of his old climbing shoes and an old rope as a donation to Escalando Fronteras. This may seem like a nice gesture on the surface, but this is a MASSIVE help. That alone will help enable more children to rock climb and allow us to continue our work without the worry of finding or funding more equipment.</div>
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So here is my challenge to all the people out there that say there is nothing they can do to make a change. I challenge you to try. Just begin. You will be find that by doing something good you will not only inspire others to follow suite, creating a better world for us all,</div>
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AND IT'S REWARDING.</div>
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You needn't look far for inspiring and incredible opportunities. Take Kevin Jorgeson and Tommy Caldwell's recent accomplishment of climbing the Dawn Wall. They spent 7 years working together on one mind blowing goal. Many people thought they would never complete it, that it was a pipe dream, but look who's laughing now? If they had listened to nay-sayers, If they had taken the easy path and simply not tried, they would not be receiving phone calls from the president and would not be written forever into the history books. So here it is, 3 easy steps, from me, to you:</div>
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<strong>Step 1. </strong><br />
Google something you think should be changed / done better / you would like to do</div>
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<strong>Step 2. </strong><br />
Find out what they need to continue their work<br />
(you can email them / call them)</div>
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<strong>Step 3. </strong><br />
Take the information you have and act upon that.</div>
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Thats it! </div>
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That is all you have to do. Believe in yourself and what you are capable of and in doing so you will</div>
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<strong>INSPIRE OTHERS.</strong></div>
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Gaz Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03040791142330373049noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2781717969934775808.post-33249073049034942552015-04-30T17:33:00.004-07:002015-05-05T08:30:17.591-07:00Developing an ego<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjGePUQHqsvnc1qMXuQCrMuAC8ESSxmaAhmfoSu3bAsgjUhmY0bcj_hLH43ZbqxC_6kDYWO0kQD89NkxgsMMjebplxTd-hAZ7fVXynXGKSHqVHtmqL22jOW0B05oR3XhVdVRdiy09Z17Y/s1600/2015031216243MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjGePUQHqsvnc1qMXuQCrMuAC8ESSxmaAhmfoSu3bAsgjUhmY0bcj_hLH43ZbqxC_6kDYWO0kQD89NkxgsMMjebplxTd-hAZ7fVXynXGKSHqVHtmqL22jOW0B05oR3XhVdVRdiy09Z17Y/s1600/2015031216243MP.jpg" height="640" width="425" /></a></div>
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<span class="s1">Around 4 years ago, I became immersed in the world of climbing development. I’m not completely certain of when I first decided I was going to become a climbing developer, but I’ve always found myself staring up at a wall or boulder and thinking, has anyone tried to climb this?</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Since I began climbing, I've been constantly inspired by the hard work and effort invested by the pioneers of our sport. Developers at the forefront of the the sport climbing movement such as Gary Gibson, who’s impressive list of first ascents resonate throughout almost every guidebook in the UK is one of my all time heroes. Worldly Adventurer Fred Becky, who’s impressive resumé of bold first ascents in the high mountains of north america is another.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Though these are two of the better known climbing developers, there are thousands of people across the globe who are contributing towards our growing sport. Many of these people are on the cutting edge of climbing progress and are stereotypically forward thinkers, conscientious of their impact and predominantly developing with good intentions.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">These people also have a tendency to be our community ambassadors, the people that everyone knows at the gym and the “go to” person when seeking climbing advice. You’ll regularly find them at the community meetings and clean up events, selflessly giving their time in the hope that the area they love can continue to improve. This is the beauty of the climbing community, the side that is caring and united through our love for rock fondling. The same one which I am proud to be a part of and talk about to my friends when I’m outside of the climbing bubble.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I wish this was the only side of the community, but the truth is, it’s not…</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRyeQS6Xal4MBH7BtCM3Pna5yydNFbTZ9hRU8vLS6_YelddWg6VZyOkMZxrvRhQoUwwMybT-2jCUFRPkFF3QBeswDxR2Y3Tpe9G_Al4KQuuMVY7wDdze3QZDWNwz7-Nhl_DDBGkADTdPs/s1600/2015031216260MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRyeQS6Xal4MBH7BtCM3Pna5yydNFbTZ9hRU8vLS6_YelddWg6VZyOkMZxrvRhQoUwwMybT-2jCUFRPkFF3QBeswDxR2Y3Tpe9G_Al4KQuuMVY7wDdze3QZDWNwz7-Nhl_DDBGkADTdPs/s1600/2015031216260MP.jpg" height="265" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A bag of bolts for a big wall!<br />
Credit: Matthew Parent</td></tr>
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<span class="s1">There is another side to the climbing development community, a dark side if you will. This is the side that few are accustomed to seeing let alone understanding. Here, speculation is rife, insults are thrown, passive aggressive threats sent and turf wars laid out. This is the side you rarely hear about, but it is there and unfortunately, it’s quite a problem. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">One of the most infamous cases of this behavior is the “Wings of Steel” incident in which climbers went as far as to sabotage the developers ropes, risking their lives for the sake of a rumor and ultimately, a piece of rock. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">To the climbers involved in this immoral unfolding of events, they now look back with shame on their actions, and understandably so. Is it really worth harming someones life over something so irrelevant in the bigger picture? </span></div>
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<span class="s1">To me, this is one of the single most embarrassing and shameful stories that i’ve encountered in our sport and it is loaded with lessons to be learnt on all sides. Sadly, this is not an isolated incident and I myself have personally experienced threats, warnings and hate mail from other developers who stake claim to an area and attempt become the self appointed gate keepers to a piece of rock, deciding which people can climb or not. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">This malicious behavior has unfortunately kept me awake on many a night, frustrated and deep in thought of why certain people would go out of their way to be so hateful to another person for reasons I can only deduce is from either a damaged ego or selfishness. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKqiHl0J8p1WnfSFB0V4ClBMYhp3Q5A9rK9Z2E8nCDMBD6EaVBNbVv8M78zsEuV8E1ds0SCQ1qwvSKyicPwRGMQgy_rGF1ZLqK14i8xiWew6lGDDPvWwariMhWaECuYnO_UkEQBRpctpE/s1600/2015030416158MP+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKqiHl0J8p1WnfSFB0V4ClBMYhp3Q5A9rK9Z2E8nCDMBD6EaVBNbVv8M78zsEuV8E1ds0SCQ1qwvSKyicPwRGMQgy_rGF1ZLqK14i8xiWew6lGDDPvWwariMhWaECuYnO_UkEQBRpctpE/s1600/2015030416158MP+copy.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Putting up a new line in Chihuahua<br />
Credit: Matthew Parent</td></tr>
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<span class="s1">It was on one of these nights, after hearing that a fellow developer was writing a hate article about me, I came to the realization that there are two kinds of climbing developers out there: </span></div>
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<span class="s1"><b>The Lovers</b> who develop for the love of the sport and the fun.</span></div>
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<span class="s1"><b>The Haters</b> who develop for their ego and for a claim.</span></div>
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<span class="s1"><b>The Lovers</b></span></div>
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<span class="s1">The Lovers develop climbing for the pure and simple pleasure of contributing to the climbing community. These are the people who bolt the 5.6 routes at the crag that everyone learns to climb on, the same people that clean up the trash regardless who dropped it simply because they love the area. They are the people who share their day belaying friends and strangers alike because they enjoy sharing their passion with others.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">In my mind, these are climbings true ambassadors, the corner stone of the local climbing community and those who control the most influence within their community.</span></div>
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<span class="s1"><b>The Haters </b></span></div>
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<span class="s1">The haters<b> </b>on the other hand, develop for their ego, to state a claim that it was them who achieved a goal first.The haters think they are superior to others because they often climb harder than the average climber, claim areas as their own (even when its public land) and have an elitist attitude towards their community members(obviously forgetting that they too once struggled up a 5.7).</span></div>
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<span class="s1">They try to intimidate others away from "their" area and often create rumors and lies to protect their damaged ego’s from what they see as competition. These are the people who are damaging the community spirit that so many of us are proud to be a part of. I’m sure if you take a moment to think, you’ll know a person like this…</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I am personally a lover, I get a huge joy out of putting up routes or boulders of any grade so that I can share them with others and I believe that most developers are the same, but the longer i’m active as a developer, and the more places I travel, the more haters I come across.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">This disappointing realization leaves me with a bitter taste in my mouth and a reluctancy to continue developing. However, what keeps me going when developing politics are in turmoil is the reminder that the majority of our community are incredibly positive people, psyched to have new rock to wrestle and thankful for each and every contributor.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I hope that by bringing a spotlight to this issue and not allowing it to remain hidden in the shadows any long; climbers, developers and community members alike can asess their true motivation for developing and become lovers instead of haters. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">Besides, if you develop for the love, you get enjoy your hard work vicariously time and time again, each time someone clips the bolts.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIQ86xA71-79-nIvcRLw5WGuZpIKo7ZBYo3SijPKCGzMnYOqafjbC8-VHH9vlVubfEu2Eoy4IfDcBHgSreTvZNJPC8ANP48_y_pT8Zt42jt8tPKAKVKDUG0ey4aH8SSCOtI8b4t60lOok/s1600/2015030413879MP-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIQ86xA71-79-nIvcRLw5WGuZpIKo7ZBYo3SijPKCGzMnYOqafjbC8-VHH9vlVubfEu2Eoy4IfDcBHgSreTvZNJPC8ANP48_y_pT8Zt42jt8tPKAKVKDUG0ey4aH8SSCOtI8b4t60lOok/s1600/2015030413879MP-2.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Deciding which line to choose?<br />
Credit: Matthew Parent</td></tr>
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Gaz Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03040791142330373049noreply@blogger.com0Sin Nombre de Colonia 22, N.L., Mexico25.648842440563243 -100.458028698632825.641685440563244 -100.46811369863281 25.655999440563242 -100.4479436986328tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2781717969934775808.post-49188806960879913272015-04-07T08:42:00.002-07:002015-04-07T08:42:26.841-07:00A Life for Adventure<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7Ydto-PtNqfgQWijGth702B5yn5zbbiV_nHskmgnRtgxXVrUMAuZdpWzCYpbjoleaVCNllGGM0Kes5bNjKaPWUin25CVN4_6sILI-yRWb1Rb_OqMu-vymbHK0zYxkcMpSrgFoMCSOQAE/s1600/blog+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7Ydto-PtNqfgQWijGth702B5yn5zbbiV_nHskmgnRtgxXVrUMAuZdpWzCYpbjoleaVCNllGGM0Kes5bNjKaPWUin25CVN4_6sILI-yRWb1Rb_OqMu-vymbHK0zYxkcMpSrgFoMCSOQAE/s1600/blog+2.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finishing up a new route I equipped on Independencia, Parque La Huasteca. <br />
Name Undecided, 5.12d, 13 pitches, <span style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">350m,.</span><br />
Credit: Matthew Parent</td></tr>
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<span class="s1">Adventure, It’s a word that sparks excitement and imagination. The thought of adventure often delivers a cocktail of emotions including fear, giddiness and bliss in a single shot. Sweetened only by our natural human curiosity, these feelings are what spurred climbers to the summit of Everest and man to the moon. But what an defines adventure? </span></div>
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<span class="s1">For some, the word bestows vivid thoughts of scaling snow capped peaks or venturing into the deepest, most unexplored parts of the world in search of the unknown, much like the stories you hear as a child about Sir Ernest Shackleton and his polar exploits. For others, an adventure can be as simple as short road trip or buying exotic groceries without the knowledge on how to prepare them. Quite simply put, its a step or a leap, into the unknown. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">One of my fondest memories is of an impromptu adventure to Mexico after hearing rumors that there was a canyon abundant with virgin rock. Hitting the road with a fellow climber and friend, we playfully switched up driving and DJ duties on our 2 day journey south from Colorado. As we transitioned from the familiar language and landscapes of the USA into the exciting unknowns of Mexico, we quickly realized that this was not going to be like any of our previous escapades. Sporadic police and military check points lined the highway to Monterrey and bathroom breaks became restricted to roadside “pop-n-squats”.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">We ran a gauntlet of the traffic through the city of Monterrey, arriving victorious on the other side where we made a bee line for Parque La Huasteca, our final destination. Crossing through the thick barred gates into the the park, we were greeted by its signature view of the towering Pico Independencia. We were speechless! The build up of fear, apprehension and nervousness that we had struggled with on our way down seemed to simply dissipate and we relished in the breathtaking views that surrounded us. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">When the asphalt ended, we continued along the gravel road as it meandered over rivers and bridges, driving deep into the parks winding canyons which the native Huichol people believe lead to the centre of the universe. All around us, blade like formations of limestone shot thousands of feet into the air and and giant succulent plants as large as a car littered the mountain sides.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaulreZ67PsIjZCfI8Hl6dpgAIJkDfE1wjerRqP-G1bzPbVzRGmWEcgtp_h272IZ2y2IxbJajnsahxW34fpPIKoOqXEQ8osGpPBGaFP4se12ldF-tZawQpRrCtBpKimELM072_6myPJuc/s1600/La+Bestia+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaulreZ67PsIjZCfI8Hl6dpgAIJkDfE1wjerRqP-G1bzPbVzRGmWEcgtp_h272IZ2y2IxbJajnsahxW34fpPIKoOqXEQ8osGpPBGaFP4se12ldF-tZawQpRrCtBpKimELM072_6myPJuc/s1600/La+Bestia+copy.jpg" height="265" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">La Bestia Cave, Parque La Huasteca, Mexico<br />Credit: Gaz Leah</td></tr>
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<span class="s1">After hours of exploring, the day gave way to night and we retreated from the canyon back to the glowing aurora of the city lights. At the hostel that evening, we discussed the dream like idea of returning to Monterrey in the near future to contribute and nurture the growing community of climbers that called Huasteca home. During the 20 hour drive back to the states, I reminisced on our time in Mexico. The rock, the food and the culture had all become imprinted on my mind and I began to ponder if a future adventure would indeed be possible.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">As it turned out, I returned later that year for a six month endeavor titled “Project Wall-E” to develop new routes, write a guidebook and help kids in marginalized areas of the city. An experience which has re-shaped my perception of the world. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCvrK4pzKtaDiZ2jE5X2cqoFjNq7um1WTgXxTYrQeBp4nn1BGeczqPYOViZBsuUpEnJ5filP8iSturNxBCYaHV-bHrAXV0Va0ySJez4_zYSNNqSqGajUo1VVZmjhCzLOCdPU-H8TbmC5w/s1600/blog+6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCvrK4pzKtaDiZ2jE5X2cqoFjNq7um1WTgXxTYrQeBp4nn1BGeczqPYOViZBsuUpEnJ5filP8iSturNxBCYaHV-bHrAXV0Va0ySJez4_zYSNNqSqGajUo1VVZmjhCzLOCdPU-H8TbmC5w/s1600/blog+6.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Climbing in Virgincita, a cave at the entrance to Parque La Huasteca.<br />Credit: Matthew Parent</td></tr>
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<span class="s1">Understandably, not every adventure has such profound effects on people, but they do build character and help us push our perceived barrier between what is possible and impossible. My personal belief is that the desire that urged me to travel to Mexico and to step outside of my comfort zone is built into all of us. Like the explorers of past times, who dared to cross oceans and continents not knowing what they would find, that same hunger for adventure that existed then is alive in all of us today. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">So whether your making a meal or sailing an ocean, don’t allow yourself to be limited by your fears and live life to its fullest by seizing the adventure that is awaiting you in every day! </span></div>
Gaz Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03040791142330373049noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2781717969934775808.post-5670751113199726692015-01-25T22:29:00.000-08:002015-01-26T20:34:52.483-08:00Escaping the city: A tribute to the weekend warrior<div class="p1">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFWw-JdnZ5t7dFLuJhCjn-uU2bc3JWfPys0x1WbPLnBiWbp437r1TxEaFsYqSvUxpV__rn58hkAZZQKG-UAsQyE4MmRl8fo_IYeGvEVJl0JjsG5RdRUM6ORHhiqEtMIWxWWiEeI6PvkFg/s1600/IMG_2819.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFWw-JdnZ5t7dFLuJhCjn-uU2bc3JWfPys0x1WbPLnBiWbp437r1TxEaFsYqSvUxpV__rn58hkAZZQKG-UAsQyE4MmRl8fo_IYeGvEVJl0JjsG5RdRUM6ORHhiqEtMIWxWWiEeI6PvkFg/s1600/IMG_2819.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span class="s1">First coined by military reserve members, the phrase “Weekend Warrior” is used to describe those who spend their weekends chasing after their personal passion and sharpening their skills once the work week is over. In climbing, It’s definition is attributed to those who travel great distances, often forfeiting sleep and guzzling copious amounts of coffee in order to get their fix of rock fondling.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Born from these adventures are stories of daring and difficult ascents, close calls and camp fire debauchery, later re-told and immortalised during the mid week plastic session. Delivered with a healthy dose of exaggeration, you can often overhear of how someones two-foot “Take!” transformed into a terrifying whipper once back at the gym.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Living in New York, I’ve heard countless tales from climbers who would drive from the city on a Friday night, making the 8 hour pilgrimage to the New River Gorge in West Virginia and returning in the early hours of Monday morning. To non-climbers, this marathon of driving seems borderline insane, but to the seasoned warrior, this is all part of the progression process.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Hearing these tales begs the question, why do we do it? Why travel so far, suffer sleep depravation, sometimes putting our lives at risk and all for a handful of hours in the outdoors.</span></div>
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It’s a testament to our growing community. That we are a hardy bunch that strive for progression in both ourselves and our sport, passionate to the point of eccentricity and with no understanding of how far is too far.</div>
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<span class="s1">So this is my tribute to all the climbers out there who dedicate their time and efforts to making our community what it is. A bustling mix of lateral thinkers and visionaries who’s uncompromising desire to climb rocks has created a movement that is changing the world in its own small way.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Thank you for being a climber!</span></div>
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Gaz Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03040791142330373049noreply@blogger.com2New York, NY, USA40.7127837 -74.00594130000001840.3275822 -74.651388300000022 41.097985200000004 -73.360494300000013tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2781717969934775808.post-39504532181861521822015-01-09T13:12:00.002-08:002015-05-08T08:51:34.613-07:00The Responsible Climbing Gym: Access, Experience and Social responsibilities<div class="p1">
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<a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/0/07/Edinburgh_International_Climbing_Arena_2010_499.JPG/1024px-Edinburgh_International_Climbing_Arena_2010_499.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/0/07/Edinburgh_International_Climbing_Arena_2010_499.JPG/1024px-Edinburgh_International_Climbing_Arena_2010_499.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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The term "community" is used a lot in the climbing world. Gyms talk about their community much like it's a tribe, something that they are proud of, that their patrons have loyalty and alliance to, which for the most part, this is true.</div>
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<span class="s1">You can go to almost any crag in the US and find people toting their gym "Belay Certified" card on their harness. To many climbers, they consider these people the stereotypical "noobs", those who have yet to realise the unwritten social rule that wearing your gym card is a sign of inexperience, and often someone worth steering clear of (especially if you don't want to watch an accident unfold). To others it's a rubber-banded flag of affiliation, one that encourages social interaction and is worn with pride.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Whatever your perspective may be, stereotypes exist for a reason. Those of us who have saved our fair share of people from almost certain injury, or worse, due to their lack of instruction, know that the majority are completely unaware of the danger they're putting themselves AND their partners in. Confronting unsafe practice can be incredibly uncomfortable for both parties, as no-one wants to be a "busy body", and less so to be informed their climbing is reckless. The handful of times that this has been myself, cautiously sharing experience gained from working as a guide, I often look for a belay tag and question; where on earth did they learn to climb?</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Admittedly, this is not a completely fair way to pass judgement. After all, everyone makes mistakes when learning and it's often sheer luck that they do not sustain an injury in the process. But in the same way that climbers attach their gym's logo to their harness, I attach their inexperience and behaviour in the outdoors to their gym.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Having moved to the US some years ago from the UK, I'm very aware of the differences in the climbing industry, behaviour and culture between the two countries. In the US, for example, there is no universal standard for instructing climbing skills and practices. The executive decision falls to the gym owner / operator to enforce what is safe practice. Having visited a large number of gyms across the US and witnessed all manner of belay techniques (some of which make me shiver at the thought of being on the sharp end), it's clear that education standards in the American climbing industry are not keeping up with the boom in climbing gyms, which is likely a contributor to the growing number of climbing related injuries throughout the US both indoors and out.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">This is obviously an over-simplified version of reality which has many factors to it that people can argue for and against. What I'm truly getting at is this: Where does the line begin and end for climbing gyms responsibility to educate its members in both safe practices and stewardship? </span></div>
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<span class="s1">To understand the scope of this question and to shed some light on where the future of climbing is heading, it helps to take a look back at the history of modern climbing and see where it came from. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">Rock climbing, for all intents and purpose, is a relatively new sport that has gone through a number of radical changes since it became a recognised sport at the end of the 19th century. Originally reserved for the bold and the brave, it has advanced from hip belays to auto locking devices, static hemp ropes tied around the waist to dynamic chemical coated ropes that attach to a harness and skills originally passed from leader to second over years of climbing are now often compressed into a two hour class at an indoor climbing gym.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">With its obvious inherent dangers, advancements in the sport have for the most part been concentrated in the direction of improved safety and performance through technology due to the limitations of old equipment. But with modern equipment now often surpassing its required functionality, could it be that one of the biggest dangers our sport faces is not that our equipment is insufficient, but that we lose access to our outdoor spaces?</span></div>
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<span class="s1">With new climbers now being educated through gyms instead of mentors on a rapid crash course involving some version of the "punch-brake-slide" belay technique, the soft skills such as ethics are often left out as an unnecessary "extra" rather than part of the fundamentals. This in turn is contributing to the growing problem of land access as more and more uneducated climbers continue to unknowingly abuse their privilege to climb in the outdoors. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">Though we are lucky to have incredible companies such as <a href="http://www.accessfund.org/" target="_blank">The Access Fund</a> to help educate climbers in what is acceptable conduct in the outdoors, their battle is made increasingly difficult as many gyms are not pro-active in passing on this information. Gyms may argue that they display posters provided by The Access Fund on how to be responsible climber. However, is this effort great enough when others witness a gyms members stuffing trash into cracks, blasting music at the crag or covering a rock in enough tick marks that it resembles a MOMA art installation?</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I believe that, as Bob Dylan so eloquently put it, “The times are a changin” and that climbing gyms should do more to preserve the future of our sport through actively educating members in outdoor conduct. This doesn’t need to be anything drastic. It could be done in all manner of simple ways such as: Adding an additional section to their classes that focuses on the subject, Handing out postcards at the gym, Having an outdoor awareness month and Gym presentations on the matter. If a gym did want to be radical in its approach they could go as far as to work in a membership to The Access Fund with every membership to the gym, thus enabling them to have a direct outreach to these climbers as they join our community. I don’t claim to know the perfect solution to solve this problem, but know that taking some action is better than not. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">I’ve been told by a handful of gym owners that “no one becomes a climber to make money, it’s for the love”. If they truly believe this, then we can hope that they can understand the crucial role they play in nurturing our industry, ensuring future generations can enjoy our climbing areas, the same way we are able to now.</span><br />
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</script>Gaz Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03040791142330373049noreply@blogger.com117New York, NY, USA40.7127837 -74.00594130000001840.3275957 -74.651388300000022 41.0979717 -73.360494300000013tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2781717969934775808.post-45435145260797229462014-12-30T22:21:00.001-08:002015-02-06T20:56:29.847-08:00Climbing to make a difference in Mexićo<div class="p2">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPz55fixPRn2wZ8w5E2w1JWOdi1P0-8jnw_X5TWlOA3UD8KmXGhowQoUuUYMujyRcXE3rhEgV0qtYTqxLY757VVPTa8H24Puplwl0_EMcM-n0MzoWfqtz05lAqfLT_wmRKqgs8DkHkGyM/s1600/IMG_6756.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPz55fixPRn2wZ8w5E2w1JWOdi1P0-8jnw_X5TWlOA3UD8KmXGhowQoUuUYMujyRcXE3rhEgV0qtYTqxLY757VVPTa8H24Puplwl0_EMcM-n0MzoWfqtz05lAqfLT_wmRKqgs8DkHkGyM/s1600/IMG_6756.jpg" height="265" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rory Smith and myself take a sketchy late night walk to the top of the neighbourhood, Independencia.</td></tr>
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I’ve often wondered whether climbing could have a positive and effective impact on world issues. I’m not sure how effective it could be on large scale topics, such as creating a lasting world peace, bringing an end to world poverty or ensuring that everyone is given their basic human rights as these are vast problems that require the collective unity of nations to make a stand. But what I do know, is that climbing can make a difference to people on a global scale.<span class="s1"></span></div>
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<span class="s1">One of my good friends and personal heroes, John Ellison, proves this with every ounce of his existence and his work with <a href="http://www.climbersagainstcancer.org/" target="_blank">Climbers Against Cancer</a> (CAC) which he formed in 2011 to raise money and awareness for cancer research. CAC in its short existence has raised more than $350,000 and united the climbing community by demonstrating that we can make a difference together, but that we need someone to lead the way.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">With John’s inspiration branded firmly into our minds, in March 2014, Tiffany Hensley and myself, Gareth Leah headed down to Monterrey Mexico after hearing about huge potential for new rock climbing and a program called Escalando Fronteras (Climbing Borders) who use climbing as a medium to bring an end to the recruitment of child soldiers into the drug cartels of Monterrey. </span></div>
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<span class="s2">Such a project struck a chord with myself. </span><span class="s1">Born and raised in the small industrial town of Ellesmere Port in the UK, I had a misspent youth that lacked both ambition and direction. When I discovered climbing in my early 20’s, it changed my whole perspective of the world. I had found something which filled the void in my life, bringing with it the direction I so desperately needed. I wondered that if climbing could do this for me, could it possibly do the same for these youth?</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioYr02v4qLqRjdxzWFQAR5HbcN5Qzl3uJfXagWzM2MLA39DLLIi4efPqI8tDDZLbV8rUVPBdCrhhQw5PAjTY10qRIFFZvS8qnaoSsnYZUrkxUPJoUMN8CYS8IDgYAmIWCWV8I0wALA-yM/s1600/IMG_6804.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioYr02v4qLqRjdxzWFQAR5HbcN5Qzl3uJfXagWzM2MLA39DLLIi4efPqI8tDDZLbV8rUVPBdCrhhQw5PAjTY10qRIFFZvS8qnaoSsnYZUrkxUPJoUMN8CYS8IDgYAmIWCWV8I0wALA-yM/s1600/IMG_6804.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With so much poverty, many of the youth look to drugs as an entertainment.</td></tr>
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<span class="s1">Speaking with the program organiser Rory Smith, a smart and worldly guy in his late 20’s who’s passion for his project emanates through every conversation, he welcomed our idea to help and we quickly set about creating Project Wall-E with two distinct goals.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">First, our goal is to help Escalando Fronteras by volunteering our time to the program and teaching the kids new skills, develop new routes in the nearby neighbourhood (enabling them to climb locally in their free time), and provide climbing gear through sponsor donations. </span><br />
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<span class="s1">Secondly, we will develop climbing in Monterrey on a larger scale and collaborate on a guidebook to help bring eco tourism to the recovering city with the desired effect that the climbing area will, in time, bring money to the impoverished areas and offer the kids an alternative way to earn money outside of Mexico’s dangerous drug trade.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The intimidating entrance to the neighbourhood of Independencia</td></tr>
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<span class="s1">Especially motivating is that the whole concept would not be possible without the help of like-minded and conscientious companies who also believe in making a difference by sharing something we love.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">We left for Mexico early November. If you would like to know more about <a href="http://www.projectwalle.com/" target="_blank">Project Wall-E</a>, <a href="https://www.indiegogo.com/projects/escalando-fronteras-climbing-beyond-cartels" target="_blank">Escalando Fronteras</a> or <a href="http://www.parquelahuasteca.com/" target="_blank">Climbing in Mexico</a> by following the hyperlinks.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Make your next year count, make it meaningful, make a difference!</span></div>
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Gaz Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03040791142330373049noreply@blogger.com13Monterrey, Nuevo Leon, Mexico25.6866142 -100.316112625.2285682 -100.9615596 26.1446602 -99.670665599999992tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2781717969934775808.post-43145968142737697262014-12-01T17:54:00.000-08:002014-12-03T12:42:43.958-08:00Climbing beyond cartels<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Visiting the slums of Lomas Modelo in Monterrey</td></tr>
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In April 2014, my life was in complete chaos. I was going through a divorce, I felt that I had given in to a life of mediocracy, and I suddenly found a strong desire to put a meaning to my life outside "making money". You could say I was going through a mid (early) life crisis.<br />
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Having decided that morning to take the first flight of JFK to well, anywhere, I found myself in Phoenix Arizona with no plans and no direction. Having been invited by a friend to go Monterrey, Mexico some weeks earlier, I made a quick phone call and took next available flight to California where I then hitch hiked to the coast to meet up.<br />
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Leaving the airport, I slung my duffel over my shoulder and stood alongside the highway in the blistering heat, thumb up and deep in thought. What was I doing here? Where was I going? What should I do with my life? Have I become satisfied with mediocracy? It didn't take long to catch a ride and I was able to quickly make my way to the meet up point where I hope to find my friend (Tiffany Hensley) and her giant white sprinter named Wall-E.<br />
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Meeting up, we spent a day talking about my current situation and discussing how we would make our way down to Mexico. Before we left New York, I had spent some time scouring government website, blogs and travel forums to find all the information I could about current affairs in Monterrey. Many of the people I spoke to about the area knew very little information other than It was "sketch balls". Hearing this repeated by many people made us nervous to travel down, but after having a brief phone call to hostel owner Ramon Narvaez, we decided there was little risk if we took the proper precautions and were soon on the road.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ramon Narvaez taking a well earned rest from the kids</td></tr>
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We arrived in Monterrey a couple of days later and experienced no problems on the way down. The large number of armed police and military we saw along the road brought a strange sense of security after reading about so many horror stories about kidnappings and road blocks by drug cartels.<br />
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Pulling up to the hostel Aguacate, we were greeted by the cheerful Mexican owner and his entourage of dogs. After a quick tour of the place, we hit the road with Ramon and his pack of dogs, heading to <a href="http://www.parquelahuasteca.com/" target="_blank">Parque La Huasteca</a> where we had heard about unbound potential for new development. What we found was incredible!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Entering Parque La Huasteca, Credit: Tiffany Hensley</td></tr>
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As we approached the canyon, we were silent in awe. The giant limestone walls rose steeply out the riverbed like spear heads for more than 1000ft. While we rolled through, Ramon informed me about a guidebook he had written to the area, but that it had become quickly outdated due to the speed at which it was being developed. I was instantly fascinated by the news. I could see the opportunity to this place held for rock climbing and pondered how I could find a way to be here.<br />
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Returning back to the Aguacate, I discussed with my friend the potential I saw for bringing eco-tourism to the park. She agreed there was a lot that could be done here and then proceeded to tell me about a program called <a href="http://www.escalandofronteras.org/" target="_blank">Escalando Fronteras</a> that was utilising the climbing area as a way to educate "at risk youth" about the world outside the slums and the opportunities they have.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some of the founders of Escalando Fronteras</td></tr>
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The pieces came together. I knew immediately how I could fulfil my life's crisis and at the same time, be immersed in everything I loved. I began putting together a project plan with these ideas in mind with the hope that I could present it to sponsors at the winter Outdoor Retailer (OR) show in Utah. Tiffany also had a vision to go back to Mexico to work with the kids and so we teamed up to maximise our efforts naming our plan "Project Wall-E" after here van.<br />
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That August, we went to OR in Salt Lake City and were blown away to find so many like minded companies that saw the potential to do good we did. We talked to hundreds of people and spent tens of hours walking the show floor but leaving OR, we were still unsure if we had done enough to make this a reality.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The kids of Escalando Fronteras</td></tr>
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By the end of September 2014, after months of follow ups and phone calls, we had succeeded to gaining enough support to carry out the project and we began putting the wheels in motion to head south.</div>
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Now in November, we have arrived in Mexico and our work has only just begun. One of the programs goals for this year is to raise funding so that they can build an accessible climbing gym for the kids as an alternative way to spend their free time. You can check out their Indiegogo campaign and donate using the link below:</div>
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<a href="http://igg.me/at/escalandofronteras/x/8840306" target="_blank">Support Escalando Fronteras</a></div>
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This is one of the biggest challenges that I have ever undertaken in my life. To try re-invigorate the national park into a booming tourist economy that will allow these children to carve out their own futures, outside the slums. If you would like to know more about <a href="http://projectwalle.squarespace.com/blog/" target="_blank">Project Wall-E</a>, <a href="http://www.esclandofronteras.org/" target="_blank">Escalando Fronteras</a> or <a href="http://www.parquelahuasteca.com/" target="_blank">Climbing in Huasteca</a> , you can get more information here:</div>
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<a href="http://www.projectwalle.com/">www.ProjectWallE.com</a><br />
<a href="http://www.escalandofronteras.org/">www.EscalandoFronteras.org</a><br />
<a href="http://www.parquelahuasteca.com/">www.ParqueLaHuasteca.com</a><br />
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A huge thank you to our sponsors who without their support we would not be able to make this possible.<br />
<a href="http://www.climbtech.com/" target="_blank">ClimbTech</a>, <a href="http://www.hanchor.com/" target="_blank">Hanchor,</a> <a href="http://www.madrockclimbing.com/" target="_blank">Mad Rock Climbing</a>, <a href="http://www.dmmclimbing.com/" target="_blank">DMM Climbing</a>, <a href="http://www.maximdynamicropes.com/" target="_blank">MAXIM ropes</a>, <a href="http://www.niteize.com/" target="_blank">Nite Ize</a>, <a href="http://www.voltaicsolutions.com/" target="_blank">Voltaic Solutions</a> and <a href="http://www.justins.com/" target="_blank">Justins Nut Butter</a>.<br />
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Gaz Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03040791142330373049noreply@blogger.com1Monterrey, Nuevo Leon, Mexico25.6866142 -100.316112625.2285682 -100.9615596 26.1446602 -99.670665599999992tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2781717969934775808.post-66856064730509518702014-10-26T10:58:00.000-07:002014-10-26T10:59:23.396-07:00Gear Junkie: DIY Huarache Running SandalIf your feet could talk, they'd ask for these!<br />
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I think that as climbers, we can agree that we're not best known for the aesthetics of our feet. Years of cramming our street size 10 into a climbing shoe 2 sizes too small leaves our toes in far from ideal shape, but a chiropodist dream. So this is a liberation, a way to thank our feet for all the abuse we put them through, the Huarache Running Sandal.<br />
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Based on designs from the Tarahumara people who inhabit a small corner of Northwestern Mexico, the crag flop is a simple, practical and comfortable shoe that weighs very little and is easy to slip on between climbs.<br />
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The Tarahumara call themselves the Rarámuri, meaning "runners on foot" or "those who run fast" in their native tongue. Made famous by the book "<i>Born to run</i>", they are best known for running distances of up to 200 miles in one session.<br />
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In this article, we'll take it step by step in how to create your very own Huarache running sandals, but with a modern flair!</div>
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<b>Tools</b></div>
<span style="text-align: center;">Hammer</span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;">Scissors</span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;">Box cutter</span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;">4mm Diameter </span><span style="text-align: center;">Hole punch</span><span style="text-align: center;"> </span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;">Lighter</span><br />
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<b>Materials</b></div>
<span style="text-align: center;">You will need a sole material, we're using Vibram Cherry which I picked up from </span><a href="http://rockandresole.com/" style="text-align: center;" target="_blank">Rock and Resole</a><span style="text-align: center;"> but you can other materials. I've heard of people recycling mocasins and using race car tires as an alternative.</span></div>
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<span style="text-align: center;">12ft of climbing accessory cord or nylon paracord, 6ft for each flop. Again, this could be any string material but you'll want it to be soft as to not chafe the toes. </span><br />
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<b>Step 1: Tracing your foot.</b></div>
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Placing the rubber on a flat surface, trace around your foot using a pencil / pen. Be sure to keep the pencil vertical when drawing to get an accurate size of your foot. </div>
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<b>Step 2: Creating the Outline</b></div>
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Now that we have an accurate trace of the foot, using a pen / pencil, we're going to smooth off the edges by following the natural curve of your foot allowing some movement and flexibility for the foot once we cut out the rubber sole.</div>
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<b>Step 3: Cutting out your sole</b></div>
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There are a number of ways to remove your sole from the sheet. A box cutter or a pair of strong scissors seem to do the best job. Scissors tend to be a little easier to use and don't pose the same worry of cutting off your fingers. </div>
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<b>Step 4: Punching holes</b></div>
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As with cutting out the soles, there are a number of ways to punch holes in the material. The thing to remember when making holes is that if you make them circular and exact, they're less likely to rip through. Avoiding using a knife if possible as the holes it creates is more likely to tear. </div>
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To punch the holes, first mark between the big toe. Next, mark a line above the ankle bone either side of the foot about 1 centimetre long. At the end of the line, place another mark for for a hole. (see below) Using the hole punch and hammer, place holes in the marked locations.</div>
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I decided that with these shoe I would put some rivets in as a further precaution to stop the rubber tearing but it's not necesary.</div>
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<b>Step 5: Lacing your flops</b></div>
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This part may seem complicated, but once you've tied the laces a couple of times, its super easy.<br />
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There is no easy way to describe how to tie them, so I found this video online that will make it easier to see and understand the patterns.</div>
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Have Fun!</div>
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Gaz Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03040791142330373049noreply@blogger.com6New York, NY, USA40.7127837 -74.00594130000001840.3275957 -74.651388300000022 41.0979717 -73.360494300000013tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2781717969934775808.post-59176237659454407582014-10-22T17:24:00.000-07:002014-10-29T09:50:36.154-07:00Gear Junkie: Mad Rock Redline Climbing Shoe<div style="text-align: center;">
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Sculptured by the hands East Coast legend <a href="http://madrockblog.com/2014/05/28/obe-carrion-into-design/" target="_blank">Obe Carrion</a>, the new Redline climbing shoe from Mad Rock is truly a game changer!</div>
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Where to begin?<br />
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This shoe is unlike anything that has been on the market previously due to a number of features including the very unique and very useful, moulded compression tongue which makes this fit like a slipper and a tie in in one.<br />
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The shoe also utilises Mad Rocks Tek Flex upper which is designed to let the foot "breath". I've never yet used a shoe that truly breaths, but this is about as close as it gets currently in the climbing footwear world. The sole is fitted with R2 rubber which combined with the Arch Flex technology, keeps the shoes shape even when the foot is loaded in unlike many other shoes which tend flatten out.<br />
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<b>THE WORD</b><br />
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Mad Rock have been known previously for creating budget products which people would often shy away from thinking the lower cost had some correlation with quality. The new Redline sets to change that precedent and show that they not only make high quality, but that they can also role with the larger climbing companies when it comes to pushing the envelope of climbing innovation and technology.<br />
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These admittedly might not be the best choice when hitting the slabs as the same technology that allows them to keep their perfect shape for overhangs is the same that also makes them less than ideal for smearing. A couple of people I showed the shoes expressed worry that the rubber may be to stiff. However, after testing these on a number of rock types and different conditions from the Red River Gorge to Boulder Canyon and even the Gunks, I find the slightly stiffer rubber actually makes them perform better on small and delicate holds.<br />
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<b>Cost: $$$$</b><br />
At $160, these are priced similar to that of it's competing shoes such as the La Sportiva Solutions or the Scarpa Instinct. They are significantly more than other shoes in the Mad Rock range but you're also getting a lot of new technology for your money.<br />
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<b>Performance: 5/5</b></div>
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For me, the shoe couldn't be much better. It fits my foot like a glove with zero dead space throughout and provides me with great performance without crippling my toes.<br />
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<b>Value: 5/5</b><br />
The quality of the shoe is unquestionably high but how long they last only time will tell. I've been using mine every day for a couple of months and they still show very little signs of wear. </div>
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Gaz Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03040791142330373049noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2781717969934775808.post-64509712206123841232014-10-06T12:00:00.000-07:002014-10-06T13:48:16.000-07:00Gear Junkie: Hanchor PIPE-T1 backpack<div style="text-align: center;">
If you're like me, you'll have a number of backpacks floating around your home, all with different purposes. One for your rope, one for the work commute, one for multi-pitch, another for the gym. The list is long and hunting for the right bag when its time to shine arrives can often leave you running late.</div>
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Being a bit of a minimalist, I'm always looking out for multi-use objects and items that can make life simpler. Take the spork for example. Why have a draw full of rattling cutlery that takes up space when you can have a spoon, knife and fork in one? </div>
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Admittedly, I wouldn't be singing the same tune if I was blessed with ample space to live, but 3 years in a NY apartment the size of a dive bar toilet and then up-sizing to a Ford Van, I'm ruthless when it comes to owning anything that takes up space. <br />
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I recently picked up the new Hanchor PIPE T-1 backpack and have been having fun taking it on a variety of adventures..<br />
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The bag itself is made of bomber X-Pac VX21, a laminated fabric which has incredible water proofness and shear strength. The bag itself is not rated as waterproof as the seams are not sealed, but it held up incredibly with the torrential NY rains that seems to come sporadically. Its zips are laminated to further aid in keeping water out and it has a number of zipper pockets throughout to make organising your life into a bag that much easier.<br />
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Over past month or two, I've used this bag everyday for carting about my laptop about (Mac book pro 13") and taken it on a number of trips to see how it performed.<br />
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I first took it hiking up 14ers in Colorado in which it performed well. I easily fit everything I needed for the day, including one very tired dog (awww) and didn't chaff or rub. I also managed to fit a bladder in the bag with a bit of jimmy rigging with a NiteIze "S" clip. Not ideal, but it worked.<br />
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Next, I took it to a climbing competition in Arkansas titled "Twenty Four Hours of Horseshoe Hell". The competition involves climbing continuously for 24 hours to accumulate points and climb as many routes as you can. It's an incredible event that will leave you feeling like you've been through the ringer the day after.<br />
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For this, I loaded it with snacks, a guidebook, water proof clothing and multiple water bottles that conveniently fit snugly in the front pockets. Over the course of the competition, It got coffee'd , dragged across rocks and thrown through brambles. Amazingly, after the comp the bag was still in great shape!<br />
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Most recently, I attempted a long multi-pitch adventure which was to repeat one of the worlds longest routes in the Gunks, NY. We unfortunately got rained off the route after just 2 days but the bag came along for the ride and was comfortable enough but I don't think this is one of its strong applications.</div>
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<b>THE WORD</b></h2>
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The bag is incredibly tough and hard wearing by any standard. It's another testament of Hanchors' commitment to make quality products that are built to last. Primarily designed as a nifty day pack, it's proven itself to be tough as the city I live in (NY) and suitable for many different uses. </div>
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As for pricing, the PIPE-T1 comes in at around $174 which seems a lot at first glance but competitively priced when compared to its competitors such as the Arc'teryx Blade 30 or the Osprey Packs Spin 22.<br />
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<b>Cost: $$$$</b><br />
On the high end of the price range<br />
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<b>Comfort: 4/5</b><br />
Stays comfortable after extended period of time and when fully loaded<br />
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<b>Features: 5/5</b><br />
The bag is loaded with small details that help organise your hectic life into a bag<br />
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<b>Functionality: 5/5</b><br />
This may not be the first bag you reach for when you go on a multi pitch fiasco, but it fits most other days. Whether your simply commuting to work, getting groceries or wondering around town, this pack is pretty neat!<br />
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Gaz Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03040791142330373049noreply@blogger.com0New York, NY, USA40.7127837 -74.00594130000001840.3275957 -74.651388300000022 41.0979717 -73.360494300000013tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2781717969934775808.post-44507672398617904782014-08-27T12:13:00.001-07:002014-08-27T12:21:55.120-07:00Quit your job and go climbingWhile on my recent travels to Utah in order to attend the annual Summer Outdoor Retailer event, I was lucky enough to get a viewing of the latest <a href="http://www.reelrocktour.com/" target="_blank">Reel Rock Film Tour</a> - Valley Uprising from <a href="http://www.bigupproductions.com/" target="_blank">Big Up Productions</a> and <a href="http://www.senderfilms.com/" target="_blank">Sender Films.</a><br />
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Such an event is something to behold. Since it's beginning in 2006, Reel Rock Film Tour has been screened in hundred of locations and inspired millions of people. This time around was no exception!<br />
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As we followed the crowds towards the plaza it became clear this was far from a simple film viewing. This was a gathering of the climbing industries most influential and ambitious characters. Those who had dedicated their lives to a passion that gave them a sense of achievement and belonging. Pushing the physical and mental boundaries of our sport!<br />
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Wondering around the small mezzanine out front of the Megaplex 12 Cinema, I brushed elbows with many of americas climbing heroes. Lynn Hill, Dean Potter, Hans Florine and Ceder Wright were just a handful of those enjoying the h'orderves and local brews put on by the Reel Rock crew.<br />
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The effect of bringing together this band of people who emanate such enthusiasm and camaraderie was mind blowing. It was incredible to see how such a diverse and geographically separated group of individuals that were so tightly knit through their passion of rock climbing.</div>
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Stepping into the theatre, you could sense the audiences anticipation for the film which had been some 7 years in the making. Unlike the rock tours previous years, they showed just one film, "The Valley Uprising - Yosemite's Rock Climbing Revolution." This was a tribute to Yosemite Valley, to its history, its people and its unique culture that has been in the climbing spotlight since the 1950's. </div>
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Tracing back the valley's climbing lineage, you're taken on an journey into the depths of the climbers mindset beginning with the golden age of Yosemite climbing right up to the present day. Many of the valleys unsung heroes are featured in this video that is guaranteed to leave you feeling more than a little amped for your next adventure. I for one was ready to quit the 9 to 5 and follow the romantic notion of a vagabond lifestyle!</div>
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The profound effect of the tour re-lit a fire in my belly that's been buried inside for some time, fearful of failure and the unknown. Although the times have changed considerably since the dirt bag lifestyle of the 70's, this journey into history shows that each generation finds their own adventure if only they're brave enough to take the leap!</div>
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The tour begins in a couple of weeks and I would make sure you don't miss this! You can check out locations and dates by visiting the <a href="http://reelrocktour.com/find-a-show/" target="_blank">Reel Rock Tour website</a>.</div>
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Gaz Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03040791142330373049noreply@blogger.com2Salt Lake City, UT, USA40.7607793 -111.8910473999999940.568390300000004 -112.21377089999999 40.9531683 -111.5683239tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2781717969934775808.post-56540909270084363372014-07-30T14:01:00.000-07:002014-08-01T16:28:52.975-07:00The Long Wall Project: The Longest Route, Never repeated<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The <a href="ttps://docs.google.com/uc?export=download&id=0B010EWhOZqb5YUxkZkJlNXowUTg">Great Wall of china is a 5.9 R</a>, traverse of the the Gunks. It was first climbed the year I was born back in 1987 and is still awaiting a second ascent. At 9000ft long, it is arguably the longest established rock route in the world.<br />
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Alongside my good friend Leigh Campbell, we aim is to raise $1 for every foot of climbing we complete for <a href="http://www.climbersagainstcancer.org/">Climbers Against Cancer</a> and will stay on the wall for as long as is needed to complete the route. This means we will likely need to portaledge at least 1 night, possibly two at the lofty and comical height of around 15ft off the ground, battlng heat and humidity, ticks and chiggers, blood, sweat and tears!<br />
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With help from Cameron Maier of <a href="http://bearcammedia.com/">Bearcam Media</a>, we will create a video for this project to be submitted to major film festivals such as <a href="http://www.banffcentre.ca/mountainfestival/worldtour/">BAMFF</a>, <a href="http://reelrocktour.com/">Reel rock film tour</a> and <a href="http://www.mountainfest.co.uk/">Kendal Mountain Film Festival</a>, creating awareness of CAC and the need to help causes bigger than ourselves.<br />
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By creating a positive media piece and leading by example, we believe we can motivate and empower the outdoor community to apply their talents and skills to social and environmental issues, benefitting everyone, whether your climbing rock faces or the corporate ladder.<br />
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<b>Team</b></h2>
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<b>Gareth “Gaz” Leah</b><br />
Worldly adventurer, passionate writer, business developer and climber. Born and bred in the UK, Gaz has climbed all over the world including Mexico, France, Spain, Oman, Dubai and all over the US including Yosemite. Famous for having the worst beta on plastic and often referred to as the chubby chaser of climbing, he seeks out new adventures in undeveloped destinations.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigd_rv6OKyjJqFb61UPBuhQrWaxPCWGBc6raVq-0T6u7KOHLMyAaL5cFYClNsQOwjwHEgHPLaDmuYjykp_-ekr-PD6LFvToCHAwxDoIuix-wMLPYSnnZanuazjriCARe8S67o31gSQPkk/s1600/eigh+c+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigd_rv6OKyjJqFb61UPBuhQrWaxPCWGBc6raVq-0T6u7KOHLMyAaL5cFYClNsQOwjwHEgHPLaDmuYjykp_-ekr-PD6LFvToCHAwxDoIuix-wMLPYSnnZanuazjriCARe8S67o31gSQPkk/s1600/eigh+c+2.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a><b>Leigh Campbell</b><br />
Former US Army photographer, graphic designer, studio photographer and climber. A Gunks climber and Catskill ice climber, Leigh is happiest when clinging to the side of a cliff in New York State. He is always up for a good adventure, whether raiding foreign fighters or an epic long traverse of one of the most famous cliff lines in the world. Often referred to as an urban redneck, his passion lies in climbing the blue lines of winter and respecting the art of traditional rock climbing.<br />
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Your donations and support means so much to us as we get geared up ready to do battle with The Long Wall. Sharing this project with your friends helps us spread the word and continue to raise money for this incredible cause, making the world that little bit better.<br />
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Lets face it, if we cure cancer, the world would be even more kick ass!<br />
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You can help our campaign by donating $$$, sharing with friends and supporting our on <a href="http://www.fundly.com/climbersagainstcancer" target="_blank">Fundly</a> campaign on Facebook. </div>
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Cheers,<br />
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Gaz Leah & Leigh Campbell<br />
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The Choss Bruvas<br />
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<a href="http://www.climberagainstcancer.org/">www.ClimberAgainstCancer.org</a><br />
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Gaz Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03040791142330373049noreply@blogger.com0New Paltz, NY 12561, USA41.7475933 -74.08680950000001541.7002058 -74.167490500000014 41.7949808 -74.006128500000017tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2781717969934775808.post-14096035847556288122014-07-15T22:55:00.000-07:002014-07-16T11:13:06.379-07:00Thirsty for a better world<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>For as long as I can remember, I've been drawn to the idea of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Philanthropy" target="_blank">philanthropy</a>.</b></div>
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I used to think that it was a word associated with the super rich. Those that had abundant amounts of money to spare and didn't know quite how to spend it. I'm sure this interest in sharing wealth was some how spurred on by my own up bringing in a low income family. Growing up as a family of 5, we didn't have much in the way of material possessions or money, and my parents taught us that if we wanted something, we would have to get it ourselves. Despite this, I never felt like I was really missing out. My parents loved me and I was inspired by their tenacity to try and make our way of life better through all of the struggles. We weren't the only family this way, many of my friends families were the same and because of this, we bonded and supported each other.</div>
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Reflecting on my childhood, I can remember specific days and moments that taught me some of my greatest lessons. Like the day when my Donnay school shoes fell apart and we couldn't afford a new pair, so I simply glued the sole back on. Or the time when all the kids in school went away skiing for the summer but we were too poor to afford it. I didn't even ask my parents if I could go for fear of making them feel inadequate, I knew they worked so hard for what we did have. </div>
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One of my fondest memories is of a caravan holiday I went on with my friends family to Yorkshire shortly after recovering from <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stevens%E2%80%93Johnson_syndrome" target="_blank">Stephen Johnsons Syndrome</a>. I was socially embarrassed of my patchy appearance, lacked confidence and could not fund the holiday myself. Without asking, my friends and family helped me out. Knowing i'd not been on a traditional holiday, well, ever. They understood that at the moment in my life, I really needed some community support.</div>
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I can't help but think how unbelievably lucky I was to have these experience and this up bringing. Having nothing taught me the true meaning of value, respect, hard work and humility. It also taught me that all you really need are the basics: </div>
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<b>Food. Water. Community.</b></div>
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Now in my late 20's, I've not become one of the super rich and I still don't feel like i'm missing out. I feel that now more than ever, I understand the need to give back and the importance of helping out others less fortunate, just as my friends and community had done when I was in a lull. </div>
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This last year, I've been focusing on paying back into social and economic causes that I admire with what I have to offer, which is simply my time. One of those causes is Second Mile Water. A small non for profit out of boulder, their aim is to raise money and end water poverty, empowering people to live a better story. </div>
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This summer, alongside incredible companies such as Patagonia and Prana, they are running an initiative titled the <a href="http://mob.secondmilewater.org/team/team-walle" target="_blank">Colorado 54</a> that brings people together from across the US to collaboratively climb all of Colorado's 14,000ft (4000m) peaks. Together with my incredible friends, we are going to summit Quandary Peak as Team Wall-E and are looking for other to join us!</div>
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If you too enjoy busting a lung at altitude, basking in the sunlit mountain tundra, rejoice in helping others and can make it to the sunshine state. Check it out!</div>
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You can learn more about the Colorado 54, follow our progress and join our campaign below by clicking the link. </div>
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<a href="http://mob.secondmilewater.org/campaigns/busting-a-lung-up-quandary-peak" target="_blank">Colorado 54</a></div>
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#Patagonia #Prana #NewtonRunning #BrownWaterCoffee #MtnDogMedia</div>
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Gaz Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03040791142330373049noreply@blogger.com0Colorado, USA39.5500507 -105.7820674000000233.2362192 -116.10921590000001 45.8638822 -95.454918900000024tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2781717969934775808.post-71444390283447745942014-06-26T18:20:00.003-07:002014-06-27T11:18:23.289-07:00Climbers United<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span class="s1"><i>Cancer.</i> It’s a word that all us fear and yet we hear it so often that its potency is becoming diluted. </span><span class="s2">In 2012, 8.2 million people died of cancer (1), contributing to over 14% of <i>all</i> <i>deaths</i> worldwide and the number is growing. It is thought that </span><span class="s1">everyone will be affected by cancer at some point in their lifetime and although treatments are becoming more successful, there is still a lot of work to do before a cure is found.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">One Friday in 2011, John Ellison, a happy and humble man living in the UK’s Peak District, went to the doctor for a check up after he experienced some usual pain in his right leg. Initially being turned away due packed office hours, John insisted and the secretary, seeing concern in Johns expression, squeezed him in an appointment. The doctor ran some routine blood test and told John he would be in touch. On the Monday, just few days later, the doctor called. “John, We have the test results back and i’d like you to come back in right away for further tests”. After a biopsy of the prostate, the results were back. John had Prostate Cancer, it was very aggressive and had spread to other parts of his body. In total, John had between 25 and 30 tumas on the bones and the cancer was deemed un-curable.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">After being diagnosed, John says he had two ways of viewing this, “I can be living with cancer or be dieing with cancer. I choose to live”. Having been a climber most of his life and the climbing community being his extended family, he set about channeling his new motivation for life into something that could help others. That motivation became Climbers Against Cancer. An organization that is set to unite the community for a greater cause than ourselves and attempt to make a real difference in the battle to find a cure for cancer. Unlike other “non-profits”, CAC donates 100% of the money raised to cancer research organizations around the world. They have currently contributed large donations to research in Australia, Canada, France, the UK and most recently, the USA.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">In Summer 2013, top female climbers Shauna Coxley, Alex Puchio, Alex Johnson, Juliane Wurm, Sierra Blair-Coyle, Angie Payne, Mina Leslie-Wujastyk, Leah Crane, Katie Peters, Anna Stohr, Melissa Le Neve and Meagan Martin, banded together to create an official CAC calendar. Structured around a run down 1950‘s caravan, photographer Caroline Treadway captured the incredible moments as the girls decked out in post war clothing for the shoot which would be sold to raise money.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">In Europe, CAC is well established. Supported by many of the top climbers such as Adam Ondra, Shauna Coxley and Mina Leslie-Wujastyk. It’s awareness is spreading and goals are being fulfilled, having currently raised over US$350,000 (EUR 250,000) since its forming and it continues to grow strong. It’s been named the official charity of the IFSC (International Federation of Sport Climbing) and is supported by the UIAA, Mammut, Lowe Alpine, Marmot, The North Face and Entreprises. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">In the United States and Canada, it’s gaining awareness with the help of athletes Chris Sharma, Alex Pucchio, Sean Mccoll and child prodigy Mirko Caballero to name but a few. With this incredible support, CAC continues to be a positive contributor to the global climbing community.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Seeing this change in the industry is nothing short of inspiring. With the climbing industry rapidly growing, there is comfort in the knowledge that our culture and community is one which is conscientious to both its environmental and social impact. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">John himself draws inspiration from our community and through all of the highs and lows of dealing with cancer, one thing has stayed consistent. John is <i>always</i> smiling. When asked why, John’s reply was simple “I smile because i’m always happy and see the bright side in everything”.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I hope that reading this article inspires you to think about how you can make a difference to your community and that maybe you too can see the good in everything, just as John has come to do. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">You can find out more about John, Climbers Against Cancer and their incredible efforts at on their website: </span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span class="s3"><a href="http://www.climbersagainstcancer.org/">www.ClimbersAgainstCancer.org</a></span>.</span></div>
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Reference: <a href="http://www.who.int/">http://www.who.int</a><br />
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Gaz Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03040791142330373049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2781717969934775808.post-90525433079350409292014-04-24T06:58:00.002-07:002014-06-05T09:48:00.277-07:00OutdoorFest: Live in the city, Love the Outdoors<div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo courtesy of OutdoorFest.</td></tr>
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Since moving to New York in 2012, I've been continually surprised by the number outdoor enthusiasts and weekend warriors that call the city home.<br />
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Whether its driving eight hours for a couple of cherished days at Kentucky's Red River Gorge or waking up at 3am on a monday morning, to endure the freezing temperatures of the Rockaways "Dawn Patrol" surf scene.. </div>
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These rebels of societal norms represent a growing sub culture of city dwellers that go to great lengths in order to get a fix of there chosen liberation. Often skipping that night out at the bar with friends in order to be on performance for the following days adventures.</div>
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Last year, while exploring New Yorks hectic networking scene, I met Sarah Knapp. Working for a local outdoor company, she emanated joyful enthusiasm and creative flair poured from behind her thin black lenses. </div>
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It was clear from the start we shared big ideas and dreams. Both hungry for adventure and an un-shakable passion for the outdoors, we would geek out for hours in coffee shops about how we could make a difference to the community that we love.</div>
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A year on from our coffee house rendezvous's, and after consuming enough caffeine to power the entire state of Rhode Island, Sarah has launched her own outdoor festival named "OutdoorFest".<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwn6IbgfR4T7_3Q7AK42kt2nEFYVrQZqIrcCwdqvUAMwoeox9VWpoyKazxkS0maUlBx03Q1yJQ6ajVzpjos61iyb4SLk_XgjNbPMQjONU7DpsFOVCLaT1kNv6cNNlJxxuCjyCbwb1KfV8/s1600/2013_02_NYCBOULDERING-7961.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwn6IbgfR4T7_3Q7AK42kt2nEFYVrQZqIrcCwdqvUAMwoeox9VWpoyKazxkS0maUlBx03Q1yJQ6ajVzpjos61iyb4SLk_XgjNbPMQjONU7DpsFOVCLaT1kNv6cNNlJxxuCjyCbwb1KfV8/s1600/2013_02_NYCBOULDERING-7961.jpg" height="320" width="214" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhOb_QKAx8UzdFd7WO1McKS_zJ1_gG2JVZ-rLiW4uczJuVK5UXEub0U4P1nBqfI4CNx4_hr1AZ1MCAaE1L8M7htefaccYDmfVCdNJzJH3_7T-ZLuXjqStu_1Xr-tb1u7jkJyqXCmF5pqs/s1600/2013_03_NYCBOULDERING-8876.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhOb_QKAx8UzdFd7WO1McKS_zJ1_gG2JVZ-rLiW4uczJuVK5UXEub0U4P1nBqfI4CNx4_hr1AZ1MCAaE1L8M7htefaccYDmfVCdNJzJH3_7T-ZLuXjqStu_1Xr-tb1u7jkJyqXCmF5pqs/s1600/2013_03_NYCBOULDERING-8876.jpg" height="320" width="214" /></a></div>
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The festivals goal is simple, to get New Yorkers off the sofa, and active in the outdoors. Unlike traditional festivals, OutdoorFest does not take place in one central location. Instead, Companies and contributors from across the city participate by holding events in separate locations, spreading the outreach and allowing more people to take part. </div>
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Without a barrier to entry, the festival naturally scoops up many low income families who previously wouldn't have had the chance or even known that they could kayak the Hudson or trail run the Palisades Park.The community response to these events has is nothing short of astonishing. With last years events (albeit under a different name) engaging more than 6000 people, this year aims to be bigger and better!<br />
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This incredible event is currently raising money to help keep the it free. You can donate AND get some sweet perks in return by checking out the Indiegogo campaign below.</div>
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I will be hosting 2 events for the festival:<br />
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<b>Urban Mountains</b><br />
<b>June 5th, 7pm @ REI Soho</b><br />
I'll be talking about how being a passionate business developer lead me to write the guide to NYC and the struggles along the way as well as sharing the story of Climbers Against Cancer and how our incredible and unique community can make a difference.<br />
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<b>Central Park Bouldering Tour</b><br />
<b>June 7th, 9am to 2pm @ Rat Rock (Umpire Rock)</b><br />
Alongside The Cliffs and in support of Climbers Against Cancer and The Access Fund. I will be giving tours of the rocks in Central Park, sharing beta where wanted and doing some pebble wrestling with you good people.<br />
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I look forward to seeing you there!<br />
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<b>Link:</b><br />
<a href="http://www.indiegogo.com/projects/outdoorfest-live-in-the-city-love-the-outdoors/x/6594591" style="background-color: white; color: #1155cc; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" target="_blank">http://www.indiegogo.com/<wbr></wbr>projects/outdoorfest-live-in-<wbr></wbr>the-city-love-the-outdoors/x/<wbr></wbr>6594591</a></div>
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Gaz Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03040791142330373049noreply@blogger.com0New York, NY, USA40.7143528 -74.005973140.3291648 -74.65142010000001 41.0995408 -73.3605261tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2781717969934775808.post-9747491253721218112014-04-01T10:15:00.000-07:002014-05-01T05:06:38.044-07:00Birdsboro: The secret sport climbing of the east coast!<div class="p1" style="text-align: center;">
<b>What's the best kept secret in East Coast sport climbing?</b><br />
<b><br /></b><span style="text-align: start;">Home to over 120+ sport climbs with grades ranging from 5.4 to 5.14, Birdsboro is a little known sport crag that is neatly tucked away in a quiet corner of Pennsylvania.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gaz Leah on Hinterland 5.12d</td></tr>
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<span class="s1">Development of the crag began back in 1993 when a handful of locals discovered the quarry, which at the time was buried under a blanket of poison ivy! The locals instantly recognised the potential for climbing on the many large faces of <b>diabase</b> rock, and quickly set about bolting their first line, "Zorro" 5.12a. Located on the "Wet Side", Zorro required very little cleaning, and an existing path leads straight to the base. </span></div>
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<span class="s1"><b>This was the birthplace of Birdsboro climbing!</b></span></div>
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<span class="s1">Birdsboro is unlike any crag you may have been to before. When you first arrive at the parking lot where the old road ends abruptly, you are greeted by a gently flowing river that is often packed with local fly fishermen (and women!). An old house sits on the far side of the river, which is now only accessible by taking the cable traverse, since the road washed away in the early 70's. And this is where the experience truly begins.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The second cable traverse</td></tr>
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<span class="s1">Crossing the wire cable, you continue your journey down a short section of the old route 82 which resembles little of its former self. Much of the road has been reclaimed by the earth leaving behind a narrow section of asphalt with yellow markings down the center. Passing over the old surviving bridge and alongside the working quarry, you reach the final cable traverse that leads the bottom of a short hill and the start of the climbing!</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Upon reaching the top of the hill you find what is aptly titled; "The Bunker". It’s an old building once used by the quarry for storing dynamite that has now been re-purposed as a toilet for many visitors to the area. To the right is the Birdsboro notice board that is regularly stocked with the latest topo and news on the area. Beside it sits the bolt fund donation box and a choice of two paths that lead to the upper and lower tiers. Following the narrow path, the journey continues along the upper tier where the quarry opens up revealing its true beauty! </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Main Wall</td></tr>
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<span class="s1">On one side, you catch a glimpse of the spectacular reservoir wall through the thin veil of trees and on the other side a large looming rock wall shoots upwards. This is the main wall, an area of the quarry that is popular with groups due to its variety of grades and varying angles. Here we met up with local climber, route equipper, and all around local legend Ted Coffelt to get the grand tour and learn more about the quarry.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">As we walked along the upper tier, Ted points out each line we pass and tells us the story of its name and how it came to be. He explained to us how over the last twenty years, the quarry has undergone an incredible transformation; from a once overgrown ivy hole into its current state as staple for local outdoor enthusiasts. The area is now used for an extensive array of activities such as fly fishing, mountain biking, hiking, shooting, trail-running, and of course sport climbing. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ted pointing out the crag classics</td></tr>
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<span class="s1">We stop beneath the “Big Wall” and Ted points out one of his favourite lines, “Hinterland”. It’s a beautiful route that takes a direct line up the tallest part of the crag and is graded 5.10 to the first anchor and 5.12d to the second. At ninety feet long, it is a true test of endurance with the crux being at the very last move.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Ted highly recommends we try the route and we’re only too happy to oblige. Looking up at the wall, I couldn’t help but feel slightly intimidated by the sheer size of the wall. Slipping on my climbing shoes, I study the wall trying to figure out the moves and wondering if I have enough juice to climb such a long continuous overhang. I tied in and with a nod from my friend, I begin climbing. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bill Piehl on HinterLand, </td></tr>
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<span class="s1">Moving carefully up the rock, I soon came to the first anchor and feeling pretty good, I decided to continue on to the top. The first few moves were manageable, but I soon found my forearms burning as the wall grew steeper and the holds became unmercifully smaller. I knew this attempt was soon over. Falling from the last clip, I lowered to the ground. Normally, I would find this disheartening and see it as a failure, but I didn’t feel disappointed. Instead, I was totally psyched at how amazing the route was and couldn't wait to try it again! I took a break and then got back on the sharp end, this time sticking all the moves and clipping the top anchor. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">It was apparent why Ted likes this route so much. It utilizes every move I've ever learnt in climbing from heal hooks to rock overs and even a dyno at the end. It truly was a full value route that just kept revealing new challenges. Ted was proud to see others having such a good time on the routes he and the locals had spent so many years bolting and maintaining.</span><br />
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<span class="s1">Since visiting Birdsboro and meeting Ted, I've been truly inspired by the climbing there and believes that this is a place everyone should visit at least once. Whether you’re looking for a casual day out hiking or an adrenaline fueled day climbing, Birdsboro should be at the top of your places to visit in the area. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Birdsboro Bolt Fund,</td></tr>
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<span class="s1">I hope this article piques your interest and encourages you to take the trip over to this great climbing spot. Please be respectful to the many people that use the area and pay thanks to those that have given their time and money to make this all possible. Above all though, have a great time!</span></div>
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<span class="s1"><b>INFO: </b></span></div>
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<span class="s1">The best place to find the latest information on Birdsboro Quarry is to use the website which is updated on a regular basis by the locals. Here you can find everything from the latest routes to the weather and more:</span></div>
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<span class="s2"><a href="http://www.birdsboroclimbing.com/">www.BirdsboroClimbing.com</a></span></div>
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<b style="text-align: start;"><a href="http://www.francoislebeau.com/" target="_blank">Photography by Francois Lebeau</a></b></div>
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Gaz Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03040791142330373049noreply@blogger.com193Birdsboro, PA, USA40.2645371 -75.80408520000003140.2403031 -75.844425700000031 40.2887711 -75.763744700000032tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2781717969934775808.post-34556755276880232242014-03-13T09:10:00.000-07:002014-03-13T09:10:32.364-07:00Assualt on El Capitan: Wings Of Steel<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="text-align: start;">In 1982, two young guns, Mark Smith and Richard Jensen visited California's Yosemite Valley with the dream of establishing a first ascent on the global climbing stage of El Capitan.</span></div>
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After a record breaking thirty-nine days on the wall, they succeeded in pioneering a new route up the southwest face, naming it <i>Wings Of Steel</i>. The route journeyed over the infamous Great Slab, a glassy 1,000ft of featureless rock considered unclimbable by many.</div>
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The battle to climb the seemingly unconquerable route was fought on many fronts. The climbing aside, Mark and Richard were the subject of verbal harassment, threats of violence and sabotage to the climbing safety equipment from the territorial locals who were less than welcoming. </div>
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The route went unrepeated for almost 30 years while the bitter controversy rumbled on. Disputes about the route would appear in online forums where climbers would speculate the ethics of the ascent. A handful second ascents was attempted, but failed before summiting, unable to overcome the difficulties of the route on its lower pitches. Yet the critics would continue to slander Mark and Richards efforts, denouncing it to be little more than a convoluted "bolt ladder".</div>
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Some three decades later, Yosemite veteran Ammon McNeely took up the challenge to repeat the route. Drawn to the climb by its mystery, he would lay to rest the rancorous stories that litter the internet. For Mark and Richard, Ammon's ascent would be the vindication they had desired for all these years.</div>
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Along with climbing partner Kait Barber and videographer Jeff Vargen, Assault on El Capitan tells a candid history of the routes establishment and the difficulties each team faced on their journey to the top. Featuring interviews from the key players in the story including climbing legends Ron Kauk and Steve Grossman, the film is more narrative than action thriller!</div>
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While the film does a great job at shedding light on the Wings of Steel debacle, it's clear that this film is made for the climbing community that has significant interest in the happenings of the valley. Non-climbers can also enjoy the film, being wowed by much of the portaledge footage, asking the regular question of "Do they sleep up there?" and finding humour in the ridiculousness of the ego's squabbling over "a piece of rock". </div>
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It's truly embarrassing to be part of a community that would carry out many of the atrocious deeds they did to a fellow climber when viewed through the lens of a human and non climber. With this film, Jeff Vargen has achieved a compelling and educational insight into the climbing world that I hope will finally lay to rest the personal grudges between everyone involved and begin the healing process for the future of the sport. </div>
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<b>Assault on El Capitan</b></div>
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Produced by Accidental Productions, written and directed by Jeff Vargen</div>
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USA 2013, 68 minutes</div>
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Reviewed by <b>Gaz Leah</b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfRxgTzMvDkOlCanc8XR2bKM0bneEZgWG0T6d1O0BOyEbzC7PQ5y3KfMHD6Cv3rxo5zwfMzBZihqfwkSx0toowdw01lTelswICMK25RaEBMdFUTIcUnwR17VsiwtAhKNCRLyp6wRleGVk/s1600/DVD+Cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfRxgTzMvDkOlCanc8XR2bKM0bneEZgWG0T6d1O0BOyEbzC7PQ5y3KfMHD6Cv3rxo5zwfMzBZihqfwkSx0toowdw01lTelswICMK25RaEBMdFUTIcUnwR17VsiwtAhKNCRLyp6wRleGVk/s1600/DVD+Cover.jpg" height="452" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br />Gaz Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03040791142330373049noreply@blogger.com23Yosemite, Yosemite Village, CA 95389, USA37.8651011 -119.5383294000000137.8651011 -119.53832940000001 37.8651011 -119.53832940000001tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2781717969934775808.post-28140776179756555622014-01-23T10:33:00.000-08:002014-02-28T14:57:33.017-08:00Gear Junkie: Hanchor Chalk Bags<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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"Made in Taiwan" </div>
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<span style="text-align: left;">It's a label that doesn't normally inspire confidence in a quality product. </span></div>
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There's a stereotype that products from Taiwan are made on low budgets and that the quality of products is not a concern for the manufacturer's. For me, the label often reminds me of the cheap stuffed toys you see in claw machines and budget windows based laptops. However, a new and innovative bag company called <a href="http://www.hanchor.com/"><span class="s1">Hanchor</span></a> has dared to challenge the stereotype! </div>
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Through their <a href="http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/1790400234/a-revolutionary-chalkbag-hula-and-kangaroo"><span class="s1">Kickstarter</span></a> campaign in which they aimed to raise $5000 for there initial product run, they smashed their target raising more than $20,000, allowing them to begin production on there two innovative new chalk bag designs. The Kangaroo and the Hula.<br />
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<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">KANGAROO</span></h2>
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At first glance, the Kangaroo looks like any other chalk bag on the market. It's when you look a little closer you discover there's something special about this bag. Inside, there's an expandable zip pouch that allows the climber a couple of different options. You can either leave the zipper open allowing the bag to be used as a regular chalk bag or alternatively, the zip can be closed forming a built in chalk ball. For me, this is perfect combination as I prefer the thick coverage of loose chalk for bouldering but the thin coating you get with a chalk ball for sport. </div>
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<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">HULA</span></h2>
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The aptly named Hula is also innovative in its approach to chalking up. It provides a unique 360<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">° </span>internal chalk ball system that is designed to give the climber full hand coverage with every dip while preventing chalk from spilling. It's two side zips open easily allowing for a quick refill and its ergonomic opening makes dipping for chalk a breeze. </div>
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<b>THE WORD</b></h2>
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When I first came across this new bag concept on kick starter, I was instantly curious and wanted to know whether or not they worked in practice as well as theory. When the bags arrived at my door, I couldn't wait to try them out and immediately hopped on the train to my local NY gym. Arriving there, I opened the bags up and unzipped the pockets inside, filling them with loose chalk. Closing the the zip and giving the socks a couple of squeezes, I quickly discovered that these products are like buying a new mattress, it needs "bedding in". When I first filled the pouches, I found it difficult to get adequate coverage until I'd used them a few times. Once the sock material had softened up, It allowed a much better flow of chalk. </div>
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Three gym sessions in from when I first filled the bags and they're now performing just how I had envisioned. I personally prefer the Kangaroo over the Hula because I find its functionality better suited to my climbing styles and its slightly narrower opening easier to use. The Hula seems a little large for a sport bag and a bit small for bouldering bucket. I'd like to see how the ring idea evolves over time.<br />
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In terms of price, they're currently a little on the expensive side compared to other bags out there but I foresee that will change as they gain popularity. They could certainly expand their choice of bag colours too.<br />
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<b>COST: $$$$</b><br />
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Kangaroo - <span style="color: #0b1902; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14px; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit;">$34</span><br />
<span style="color: #0b1902; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14px; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit;">Hula - $37</span><br />
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<b>FUNCTIONALITY: </b><br />
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<b>Kangaroo - 8 / 10</b><br />
This bag is a cool new concept and works well but the bedding in part was a annoying. I would recommend this to be on every sport climbers wish list.<br />
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<b>Hula - 7 / 10</b><br />
I admire the innovative design of this product and I like the theory behind it. However, I don't think it works as well in practice as I expected. I'm psyched to see where this design trend leads.<br />
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Gaz Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03040791142330373049noreply@blogger.com3New York, NY, USA40.7143528 -74.005973140.3291648 -74.65142010000001 41.0995408 -73.3605261