About 153 km outside of Hermosillo, Mexico I nearly killed Charlie and I. We were trying to get to the beach from El Paso Texas and decided to drive through the night. I managed to get a couple hours of sleep while Charlie drove and woke up just before the sun rose. We were on the number 16 ¨highway¨ from Chihuahua, winding our way through the mountains. We hit a military road block just after one of the most gorgeous sunrises I have ever seen (granted I haven´t seen many). Shortly there after Charlie asked me to take over so he could rest. I was tired but felt good to drive and took over. I was driving like normal... quite possibly a little fast for the road but I felt comfortable as Charlie slept in the back. The jungle that surrounded us was beautiful and in my moment of brilliance decided to take a picture with the camera that was sitting beside me. A couple of pictures later and I was putting the camera down as we went around a corner... everything happend so fast.
I hit the gravel on the side of the road and the car slid on to a mound of dird skirting the edge of the road and consequently the lip of the gorge. My mind reeled... I was thinking that maybe we´d have to pull the car off the edge or get a tow and then the car began to tip. I believe this is when I let out my first blood curdling ¨NO!¨ we started to slide on our right side into a bunch of small trees which sent us into a chute upside down. My screams came from the depths of my body and woke Charlie as we hurdled down the hill. With every breath came a new scream... I thought I was going to kill us. ´We flipped atleast two maybe three times, once in a roll and twice in a head over heels tumble down a steep dirt hill. We hit the bottom and the ¨fight or flight¨ instinct took over.
I yelled to Charlie to find out that he too was ok and alive and breathing and concious and alive and oh my god we need to get out of here. The adrenaline rushed, I was a mess emotionally. We both managed to climb free of the carnage and I gave him the biggest hug of my life as he tried to calm me down. We hurried up the hill in bare feet to get away from a car that might explode at any time... considering cars do that sometimes. The seriousness of the crash only hit us once we started to climb the hill. We had fallen nearly 30 meters over a distance of only 10. We grappled with vines and trees to get up the muddy slope to the road where we could flag down help.
We flagged down help and told them to call the policia when the came into cell phone range. It was a long time before anything happend. We started to get nervous again and flagged down another car. This time I decided to go into town with some people. I yelled to Charlie and he agreed that it was a good idea.
In the car I sucked down a cigarette and contemplated the situation. I wasn´t nervous until the police stopped us. I couldn´t understand the conversation and what worried me was that they paid no attention to me. It seemed as though the policia estata investigarados knew the man that picked me up. I thought I would go with the police... but they told me to get back in the truck and go to the hospital. I couldn´t say otherwise so I did. At this point my mind reeled... I didn´t know if I was being stolen or our things were being stolen or if they were good guys or bad guys. They kept on telling me not to worry with a grin on their faces which worried me more. We came to a small town and went by the doctor who was away on vacation and then met up with another Police officer. These officers had guns but no badges. No name tags... just guns.
I was worried again as the police only took notice of the people driving and they spoke a lot. I could pick up very little from the hand gestures. Eventually I managed to tell them that I wanted to call home. My worries were lessened when I contacted home and they got me some water. A few breaths and I started to calm myself.
The police still worried me due to their lack of professionalism. It seemed like they wanted our car instead of our wellbeing. Shortly after this, Charlie arrived in a pickup with three working men. The police had told them to take us to the hospital. As we schemed in the back we decided to get the men to turn around and take us back to the car to get our belongings. Some good spanish work and a bunch of hand gestures later we were turned around and heading back to the site. Along the way some Policia Federal pulled us over and took us into their car to show them the site.
Back at the 153km marker we piled our things into the remenants of the van so that they could be hoisted out of the gorge with the van. The cable on the giant tow truck was not long enough so they had to use chains to reach the van. They managed to get it out and we piled the rest of our shit into the smashed up house on wheels.
We gave the men who helped us some stuff including tools and gas and 1000 peso´s for their help. Bernardo, the owner of the truck has since been a huge help to us. Maybe only to get our van, since he is a mechanic... but maybe also because he is a ¨real¨ person.
The federal police were amazing to us and we were fed at a local festival and then taken to Hermosillo to talk with the insurance person. The coverage would not pay us anything for the van but it would cover a hospital bill. So we took the ride to the hospital and got cleaned up. Charlie´s ribs were very sore so he got an x-ray and a few IV´s and then was looked at by a speciallist.
This is all a short version of what went on but it´s an outline.
Since that day we have been staying in a hotel and been eating street food the whole time... TACO´S. With help from Bernardo we retrieved our things and had a home cooked meal and a party with his family and neighbours. We paid for the tow and signed away the car. All we need to do is get home in one piece.
Our plan is to catch a bus to Las Vegas and then fly home soon.
The trip ended in an odd fashion... but we are alive and well which is a miracle. When you see the photo´s you´ll agree.
I´ll reserve my feelings and thoughts on the accident until a later date. There are so many of them and they need some time to find some context and order.
Love you all.
Thomas Sloss
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Monday, December 1, 2008
El Dia Que Mi Vida Vuelta Tres Veces (The Day My Life Flipped Three Times)
Sunrise in Mexico is a beuatiful thing. We are somewhere East of San Nicholas and I am tired from a marathon night of driving and doming Red Bull. I still feel alert and I pay attention to the road.
The Road. The road is a highway, is an understatement: you know if you have driven in Mexico. Highway 16 from Chihuahua to Hermosillo is 550 km of twists, turns, hairpins, drops, bumps, speed bumps, vibration strips, tolls, burros, horney cows, rocks, tires from trucks and cars and plants and dirt washed onto the road from raina nd floods. The road has potholes in places, no lines dividing the lanes for many kilometres, no pavement for many kilometres, zonas militario (zones controlled and under the authority of the Mexican army).
Around 30 minutes after sunrise we cross a zona militario. A young man with an automatic rifle signals us to stop: so I do. We approaches the van and asks us to baja (get out of the vehicle). He do, meanwhile the commanding officer, a general he says, approaches Thomas and asks hablas espanol. Thomas tells him I do and he apporaches me. He tells me that his man must search our vehicle for cosas illegales (illegal things). I tell him vaile, and we start to talk. At first he thinks we are gringos but when I tell him we´re Canadian he smiles and tells me he has a neice in Canada, I think in Toronto. But, he doesn´t believe Thomas is Canadian, he thinks with the long hair he must be French. I laugh and tell him no, his man continues to root thru our van while Thomas tries to translate. For having no Spanish he does well. The man finds the hooker cards we got in Las Vegas, he likes them and calls the general, he likes them too. The general wants to know how many we had sex with. I tell him all of them and laugh. I offer the cards to him for him and his men but he refuses: his loss, but not to worry they´ll come in handy later - but that´s getting ahead of the story.
After finding nothing the general tells to us to get back in the car and have a safe drive. We get back in and I start driving again. After about 20 minutes of driving I start to feel the repurcussions of no sleep and my attention starts to ween. I ask Thomas if he will take over so I can sleep. I pull over and hop out, Thomas mans the wheel cranks some Sarah McLaughlin and I lie down on the bench, put the seat belt on around me curl up into my sleeping bag and fall quickly sleep takes over.
RUMMMMMMMBLLE, RUMMMMMBLE. "NO!!! NO!!! NO!!!!" Thomas screams. I have time to pull the sleeping bag off my head as the van tilts toward the gorge. I feel the feeling in my stomach that the forces of nature are about to have some fun with us: gravity pulls us down. That´s about all I feel, no time for fear, no time for confusion. The van rolls over and hits a tree which changes our trajectory from a roll to an ass over tea kettle. Broken glass flies thru the van. Tools, clothes, climbing gear, food, books, sleeping bags, our water, EVERYTHING flies. I´m hanging by the seat belt, then I´m not. and we keep flipping. Down and down we go into the gorge. Smash, smash, smash. AND SMASH! We´re stopped on our wheels. At the bottom of a gorge. Did this really happen? Is it a dream? I think it´s real. "CHARLIE ARE YOU ALRIGHT?!?" I hear Thomas scream. It´s not a dream. I feel ok. I look down to undo my seatbelt and find broken glass all around me, many large sharp artery cutting shards from opur mirrors all around me but I find no blood. I climb out what was once our roof but is now a massive, open sunroof. I find Thomas outside the van. I´m not sure how he got out of the van, but he did. We hug. We are both happy to be alive and are flying like kites from the most massive hit of adrenaline I have ever taken. I look up 30 to 40 metres where the road we were driving on is, and look back to the delapidated (read: fucking shit kicked by gravity, 40m of rocks and trees) van. I don´t tell Thomas this, but I think that for putting us off the road he did a pretty good job, we both should have died. Im sure I would have if I wasn´t wearing my seatbelt seeing as I hung, suspended by it. In fact I´m sure Thomas would be too if he hadn´t been wearing his either.
We leave the van, Thomas without shoes and scramble up 4th class scree and dirt to the road. We are worried about a fire danger from the gas tank, our 20 extra litres of gas and our 10 lbs of propane. I don´t know what could happen but I don´t think it will be good. In my mind I prepare myself for the explosion and wonder when I will look back at a fire ball of all my belongings and van.
We wait on the road, wondering how long it will take for the first car to come by. We havn´t seen one in hours: unless you count the military that are probably over 50 km away. VRRRMM. It´s not actually this loud but the sound of a vehicle approaching sounds like a thunderstorm to me, a good thunderstorm, and the possibility of help. A old Mexican man driving an old truck with plates from Sonora rounds the corner. Thomas and I run into the middle of the street yelling: "AYUDA! AYUDA! AYUDA!" The man stops the truck apprehesively, I guess ladrones (thieves) use this method to stop motorists as well. He speaks no English so I use what Spanish I have to describe the accident to him. He doesn´t have a cell phone and seems amiguous. While we are talking to him a family with a SUV rounds the same corner in the same dirrection as the old man and we flag them. They stop less apprehensively. I explain the situation and show him the seen of the accident. "Mios Dios. Chinga tu Madre," I hear him say and he turns to Thomas and I in disbelief that we are standing and in one piece, while our van is in many. His wife is relived that there is no one else in the vehicle. They have a cell phone but there is no service where we are. They promise to call the policia when they get service. They leave us a litre and a half of water and some quesadillas: their presumed lunch.
We move to the side of the road relieved to have gotten our message across and start the waiting game. We realize it will probably be hours before any police arrive. We are 153 km outside of Hermosillo. We don´t know whether the pueblos outside of Hermosillo will have local policia or if we´ll have to wait for federali´s. Guessing about these things doesn´t help pass the time. Using the bathroom doesn´t either. The only thing for me that helps is going back to the van to start collecting our stuff which is EVERYWHERE. Things are buried aswell. Somethings we never find. Es la vida. I know it will take many trips up and down this gorge to get our stuff out and the work is very hard. I find two of our ropes and our harnesses. My plan is to make and anchor for a rappel line and use one rope for a haul line. While I´m scrambling back up a car picks Thomas up and takes him into the nearest pueblo with policia. Now I can´t use my idea becuase I need to wait for the policia so I stash our gear in a tree. After what feels like another hour three investigadoras arrive.
I show them the scene. "CHINGA TU MADRE! MIOS DIOS" I hear them say. Their reaction is a mirror or the one from the first. They ask me questions in Spanish, they know no English. I do my best to asnwer but I´m a bit emotional and not rational. Also my dictionary is lost somewhere in the crash site. One of the policia goes down to the van to check out the scene. I wait at the road with the other two answering questions. I´m vague and provide little information. The policia near the van is dumping out clothing i put in a bag and collecting electroniocs and putting them in it. I wonder whether he will try to liberate this bag. He puts other stuff a juntos (together). The policia flag down a car of three tired looking Mexican men with plates of Sonora. They ask them to take me into town to go to the hospital. I tell them I need mis cosas (my things). And they say they will wait for me. I grab the electronics, my computer, two ropes and our harnesses. I also take our jerry can of gsoline for them.
On the drive into town they tell us that our stuff will probably be stolen by ladrones. Fuck. I tell them es la vida and try not to think about losing the trad rack. We get to the pueblo Tecuripo. I see Thomas with two policia sitting under a tree. He looks tired, dehydrated and moreover devastated. We both get in the back of the truck I was in and head towards Hermosillo. We aren´t happy at the prospect of losing our gear and start scheming. I know that the hombres driving us are mechanics and we figure they can always use extra money. We decide to try to buy there help and to go back for our stuff now. When we pull over I get my game on. I do my best to convey our message to them that for we have dinero and want to trade it for their help. After much Spanish argument dinero wins. We put the 20 litres of gasoline in their truck and I say "Vamos Rapido!" Now it´s a race, us against the ladrones and the policia.
10 km, 20 km, 30 km, 40 km, 50 km, 60km, 65 km, 70 km. We´re getting closer and my heart starts to race. What if there are ladrones at the van when we get there, or worse the policia that we don´t trust. I try not to think of this. 75 km, 80 km. We´re closer now and my heart is pumping like the pistons of a Grand Prix superbike. 85 km. We pass the most massive tow truck I have ever seen and the federalis!!! They´re looking for the van and don´t know where it is. The federalis see us and pull us over. They ask Thomas and I to get out of the back of the truck and show us where the van is. Our saving grace is that one of them speaks English. We hop in the car with them and direct them toward the van. The tow truck follows and two of our amigos Bernardo and Javier hop in with them and follow us. We get to the van and show the federalis the scene. "Chinga tu madre!" I hear the one who doesn´t speak English exclaim. It seems thats a popular response to our predicament.
The tow truck comes but they don´t have enough chain to pull the van. They have 20 metres but they need atleast 40. Thomas, Bernardo, Javier and I scramble down to the van to get to work. We move stuff around and finally the tow truck comes back with more chain. We rig the van up and they try to pull it up. It fails. We need to chain it further back. The groge is very steep and it just isn´t working. They lower the van and we try again. This time it works. We watch as what was our home is dragged up the side of the gorge. SMASH, SMASH, SMASH, goes the van against rocks and trees. Finally the van is at the crest of the hill and the tow truck needs to drive up the road to finish the job. The driver, Ricardo, guns it and yanks poor JLL out and she flips onto the passenger side and nearly goes for a second tumble, but Ricardo fixes this by giving her a good pull and finally rights her. Bernardo, Javier, Thomas, and I gather the rest of our stuff and scramble up the hill to put out stuff in JLL.
The federalis tell us we ride with them into Hermosillo, not with Bernardo which was what we planned. We ask Bernardo cuanto cuesta (how much) for his help. He tells us 400 pesos. We give him 1.000. Then we hop in with the federalis and speed towards Hermosillo. A funny feeling is here. Today seatbelts saved our lives and this car doesn´t have any.
We stop in a pueblo about 120 km outside of Hermosillo. The federalis seem to know everyone and there is a fiesta. We have dinner from the fiesta with the federalis. I think it´s good, I think it´s burro I´m eating. Thomas isn´t a fan so I eat his too. And then we´re off again. On the way to Hermosillo the federali that speaks English calls our insurance company and files a claim for us. He tells us an agent will meet us in Hermosillo. He also tells us he doesn´t think our insurance will cover any of the damages. When we get to Hermosillo and meet the agent we find out that he is right. Es la vida. The federalis leave us with the agent becuase he will take us to the hospital.
At the hospital we are greeted again with the fact that we are in a country that doesn´t speak English. I give Thomas our phrase-book witht he section on the doctor dog earred and wish him luck. He has luck. The docotr he is assigned speaks near perfect English.
I wait and chat with an old woman about her daughter and her baby. Her daughter´s baby is sick and is sick often. I tell her pienso que es terrible (I think that´s terrible). She agrees. After what seems like 30 minutes Thomas comes out of the office and tells me to be careful, it hurts. I laugh and go in... little do I know he´s right, I do hurt.
My ribs hurt alot from the seat belt where I was hanging and my lower back from where I got tossed around. The docotr doesn´t think any ribs are broken but he can´t be sure so he orders 4 X-Rays. I give them, ride in a wheel chair (hospital policy) and get hooked up to an IV for the pain and rehydration why we wait for a specialist to give his opinion on the X-Rays. We may not get any coverage for the damages to the van from the insurance, but I´m definetly getting my moneys worth on the health insurance aspect of it! The specialist comes and does some tests and in the end tell me I have bien salud (good health) and that the pain should pass in a week. The other doctor, Jose, tells me after the IVs finish I will be discharged. I smash the two IVs and they discharge me.
Thomas and I are now very tired so we head to a hotel that doctor Jose recomended, Hotel San Andres. We check in and crash immediately. We sleep like logs and wake up late the next day.
Now it´s two days after the crash and we´re both still sore. We gave what´s left of the van (motor, battery, transmission, etc.) to Bernardo for his help and hospitality. Now we need to find a way to get us and our stuff home. The adventure continues, though under new pretenses. Our change in paradigm.
- Charlie
The Road. The road is a highway, is an understatement: you know if you have driven in Mexico. Highway 16 from Chihuahua to Hermosillo is 550 km of twists, turns, hairpins, drops, bumps, speed bumps, vibration strips, tolls, burros, horney cows, rocks, tires from trucks and cars and plants and dirt washed onto the road from raina nd floods. The road has potholes in places, no lines dividing the lanes for many kilometres, no pavement for many kilometres, zonas militario (zones controlled and under the authority of the Mexican army).
Around 30 minutes after sunrise we cross a zona militario. A young man with an automatic rifle signals us to stop: so I do. We approaches the van and asks us to baja (get out of the vehicle). He do, meanwhile the commanding officer, a general he says, approaches Thomas and asks hablas espanol. Thomas tells him I do and he apporaches me. He tells me that his man must search our vehicle for cosas illegales (illegal things). I tell him vaile, and we start to talk. At first he thinks we are gringos but when I tell him we´re Canadian he smiles and tells me he has a neice in Canada, I think in Toronto. But, he doesn´t believe Thomas is Canadian, he thinks with the long hair he must be French. I laugh and tell him no, his man continues to root thru our van while Thomas tries to translate. For having no Spanish he does well. The man finds the hooker cards we got in Las Vegas, he likes them and calls the general, he likes them too. The general wants to know how many we had sex with. I tell him all of them and laugh. I offer the cards to him for him and his men but he refuses: his loss, but not to worry they´ll come in handy later - but that´s getting ahead of the story.
After finding nothing the general tells to us to get back in the car and have a safe drive. We get back in and I start driving again. After about 20 minutes of driving I start to feel the repurcussions of no sleep and my attention starts to ween. I ask Thomas if he will take over so I can sleep. I pull over and hop out, Thomas mans the wheel cranks some Sarah McLaughlin and I lie down on the bench, put the seat belt on around me curl up into my sleeping bag and fall quickly sleep takes over.
RUMMMMMMMBLLE, RUMMMMMBLE. "NO!!! NO!!! NO!!!!" Thomas screams. I have time to pull the sleeping bag off my head as the van tilts toward the gorge. I feel the feeling in my stomach that the forces of nature are about to have some fun with us: gravity pulls us down. That´s about all I feel, no time for fear, no time for confusion. The van rolls over and hits a tree which changes our trajectory from a roll to an ass over tea kettle. Broken glass flies thru the van. Tools, clothes, climbing gear, food, books, sleeping bags, our water, EVERYTHING flies. I´m hanging by the seat belt, then I´m not. and we keep flipping. Down and down we go into the gorge. Smash, smash, smash. AND SMASH! We´re stopped on our wheels. At the bottom of a gorge. Did this really happen? Is it a dream? I think it´s real. "CHARLIE ARE YOU ALRIGHT?!?" I hear Thomas scream. It´s not a dream. I feel ok. I look down to undo my seatbelt and find broken glass all around me, many large sharp artery cutting shards from opur mirrors all around me but I find no blood. I climb out what was once our roof but is now a massive, open sunroof. I find Thomas outside the van. I´m not sure how he got out of the van, but he did. We hug. We are both happy to be alive and are flying like kites from the most massive hit of adrenaline I have ever taken. I look up 30 to 40 metres where the road we were driving on is, and look back to the delapidated (read: fucking shit kicked by gravity, 40m of rocks and trees) van. I don´t tell Thomas this, but I think that for putting us off the road he did a pretty good job, we both should have died. Im sure I would have if I wasn´t wearing my seatbelt seeing as I hung, suspended by it. In fact I´m sure Thomas would be too if he hadn´t been wearing his either.
We leave the van, Thomas without shoes and scramble up 4th class scree and dirt to the road. We are worried about a fire danger from the gas tank, our 20 extra litres of gas and our 10 lbs of propane. I don´t know what could happen but I don´t think it will be good. In my mind I prepare myself for the explosion and wonder when I will look back at a fire ball of all my belongings and van.
We wait on the road, wondering how long it will take for the first car to come by. We havn´t seen one in hours: unless you count the military that are probably over 50 km away. VRRRMM. It´s not actually this loud but the sound of a vehicle approaching sounds like a thunderstorm to me, a good thunderstorm, and the possibility of help. A old Mexican man driving an old truck with plates from Sonora rounds the corner. Thomas and I run into the middle of the street yelling: "AYUDA! AYUDA! AYUDA!" The man stops the truck apprehesively, I guess ladrones (thieves) use this method to stop motorists as well. He speaks no English so I use what Spanish I have to describe the accident to him. He doesn´t have a cell phone and seems amiguous. While we are talking to him a family with a SUV rounds the same corner in the same dirrection as the old man and we flag them. They stop less apprehensively. I explain the situation and show him the seen of the accident. "Mios Dios. Chinga tu Madre," I hear him say and he turns to Thomas and I in disbelief that we are standing and in one piece, while our van is in many. His wife is relived that there is no one else in the vehicle. They have a cell phone but there is no service where we are. They promise to call the policia when they get service. They leave us a litre and a half of water and some quesadillas: their presumed lunch.
We move to the side of the road relieved to have gotten our message across and start the waiting game. We realize it will probably be hours before any police arrive. We are 153 km outside of Hermosillo. We don´t know whether the pueblos outside of Hermosillo will have local policia or if we´ll have to wait for federali´s. Guessing about these things doesn´t help pass the time. Using the bathroom doesn´t either. The only thing for me that helps is going back to the van to start collecting our stuff which is EVERYWHERE. Things are buried aswell. Somethings we never find. Es la vida. I know it will take many trips up and down this gorge to get our stuff out and the work is very hard. I find two of our ropes and our harnesses. My plan is to make and anchor for a rappel line and use one rope for a haul line. While I´m scrambling back up a car picks Thomas up and takes him into the nearest pueblo with policia. Now I can´t use my idea becuase I need to wait for the policia so I stash our gear in a tree. After what feels like another hour three investigadoras arrive.
I show them the scene. "CHINGA TU MADRE! MIOS DIOS" I hear them say. Their reaction is a mirror or the one from the first. They ask me questions in Spanish, they know no English. I do my best to asnwer but I´m a bit emotional and not rational. Also my dictionary is lost somewhere in the crash site. One of the policia goes down to the van to check out the scene. I wait at the road with the other two answering questions. I´m vague and provide little information. The policia near the van is dumping out clothing i put in a bag and collecting electroniocs and putting them in it. I wonder whether he will try to liberate this bag. He puts other stuff a juntos (together). The policia flag down a car of three tired looking Mexican men with plates of Sonora. They ask them to take me into town to go to the hospital. I tell them I need mis cosas (my things). And they say they will wait for me. I grab the electronics, my computer, two ropes and our harnesses. I also take our jerry can of gsoline for them.
On the drive into town they tell us that our stuff will probably be stolen by ladrones. Fuck. I tell them es la vida and try not to think about losing the trad rack. We get to the pueblo Tecuripo. I see Thomas with two policia sitting under a tree. He looks tired, dehydrated and moreover devastated. We both get in the back of the truck I was in and head towards Hermosillo. We aren´t happy at the prospect of losing our gear and start scheming. I know that the hombres driving us are mechanics and we figure they can always use extra money. We decide to try to buy there help and to go back for our stuff now. When we pull over I get my game on. I do my best to convey our message to them that for we have dinero and want to trade it for their help. After much Spanish argument dinero wins. We put the 20 litres of gasoline in their truck and I say "Vamos Rapido!" Now it´s a race, us against the ladrones and the policia.
10 km, 20 km, 30 km, 40 km, 50 km, 60km, 65 km, 70 km. We´re getting closer and my heart starts to race. What if there are ladrones at the van when we get there, or worse the policia that we don´t trust. I try not to think of this. 75 km, 80 km. We´re closer now and my heart is pumping like the pistons of a Grand Prix superbike. 85 km. We pass the most massive tow truck I have ever seen and the federalis!!! They´re looking for the van and don´t know where it is. The federalis see us and pull us over. They ask Thomas and I to get out of the back of the truck and show us where the van is. Our saving grace is that one of them speaks English. We hop in the car with them and direct them toward the van. The tow truck follows and two of our amigos Bernardo and Javier hop in with them and follow us. We get to the van and show the federalis the scene. "Chinga tu madre!" I hear the one who doesn´t speak English exclaim. It seems thats a popular response to our predicament.
The tow truck comes but they don´t have enough chain to pull the van. They have 20 metres but they need atleast 40. Thomas, Bernardo, Javier and I scramble down to the van to get to work. We move stuff around and finally the tow truck comes back with more chain. We rig the van up and they try to pull it up. It fails. We need to chain it further back. The groge is very steep and it just isn´t working. They lower the van and we try again. This time it works. We watch as what was our home is dragged up the side of the gorge. SMASH, SMASH, SMASH, goes the van against rocks and trees. Finally the van is at the crest of the hill and the tow truck needs to drive up the road to finish the job. The driver, Ricardo, guns it and yanks poor JLL out and she flips onto the passenger side and nearly goes for a second tumble, but Ricardo fixes this by giving her a good pull and finally rights her. Bernardo, Javier, Thomas, and I gather the rest of our stuff and scramble up the hill to put out stuff in JLL.
The federalis tell us we ride with them into Hermosillo, not with Bernardo which was what we planned. We ask Bernardo cuanto cuesta (how much) for his help. He tells us 400 pesos. We give him 1.000. Then we hop in with the federalis and speed towards Hermosillo. A funny feeling is here. Today seatbelts saved our lives and this car doesn´t have any.
We stop in a pueblo about 120 km outside of Hermosillo. The federalis seem to know everyone and there is a fiesta. We have dinner from the fiesta with the federalis. I think it´s good, I think it´s burro I´m eating. Thomas isn´t a fan so I eat his too. And then we´re off again. On the way to Hermosillo the federali that speaks English calls our insurance company and files a claim for us. He tells us an agent will meet us in Hermosillo. He also tells us he doesn´t think our insurance will cover any of the damages. When we get to Hermosillo and meet the agent we find out that he is right. Es la vida. The federalis leave us with the agent becuase he will take us to the hospital.
At the hospital we are greeted again with the fact that we are in a country that doesn´t speak English. I give Thomas our phrase-book witht he section on the doctor dog earred and wish him luck. He has luck. The docotr he is assigned speaks near perfect English.
I wait and chat with an old woman about her daughter and her baby. Her daughter´s baby is sick and is sick often. I tell her pienso que es terrible (I think that´s terrible). She agrees. After what seems like 30 minutes Thomas comes out of the office and tells me to be careful, it hurts. I laugh and go in... little do I know he´s right, I do hurt.
My ribs hurt alot from the seat belt where I was hanging and my lower back from where I got tossed around. The docotr doesn´t think any ribs are broken but he can´t be sure so he orders 4 X-Rays. I give them, ride in a wheel chair (hospital policy) and get hooked up to an IV for the pain and rehydration why we wait for a specialist to give his opinion on the X-Rays. We may not get any coverage for the damages to the van from the insurance, but I´m definetly getting my moneys worth on the health insurance aspect of it! The specialist comes and does some tests and in the end tell me I have bien salud (good health) and that the pain should pass in a week. The other doctor, Jose, tells me after the IVs finish I will be discharged. I smash the two IVs and they discharge me.
Thomas and I are now very tired so we head to a hotel that doctor Jose recomended, Hotel San Andres. We check in and crash immediately. We sleep like logs and wake up late the next day.
Now it´s two days after the crash and we´re both still sore. We gave what´s left of the van (motor, battery, transmission, etc.) to Bernardo for his help and hospitality. Now we need to find a way to get us and our stuff home. The adventure continues, though under new pretenses. Our change in paradigm.
- Charlie
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
From Hueco to Where Co.
Hello All, Today is day 5 at Hueco Tanks State Park and Historical Site. Hueco means hollow and Tanks refers to water: Hueco Tanks is an oasis in the desert where there is water in hollow formations. Its a pretty rad place: boulders are everywhere and when you go up to them you may find a cave on one side which opens up a passage to many more boulders and caves.
The climbing here is stupendous. At first it just stupifies; the "Oh my god" factor takes over and I find myself salivating over routes and sussing beta. The rock quality is mostly great, and the amount is huge with first ascents waiting to be had. This morning for example, I went with some friends Gustavo and Dingo to a good boulder called Ghetto Simulator - V2. I think it should hardly get a boulder grading... the problem is 20+ moves and over 10m long up this boulder. Whatever it is it's awesome! As I was talking about first ascents a climber named Jason Kehl put up a new problem behind Ghetto Simulator yesterday. This proud line visible from many areas had somehow remained unclimbed.
I spent the rest of the morning soaking up some vitamin D and working out the moves on a problem called "adjust you attitude." I got all the moves and now it comes down to linking them together: maybe with an adjustment of my attitude it will go... but probably not on this trip. Hopefully, though, on the way back north.
We will probably leave for Mexico on Friday morning, with hopes of crossing at the Columbia crossing (or possibly Laredo). Then we'll head south and take a bit of a break from the climbing bum lifestyle. I'll appreciate it and hopefully I'll come back to climbing with even more pysche. I know my heels will love the rest and lack of smashing.
On our first day I took a fall onto the rock and smashed my heels up good. I smashed em so good I couldn;t climb the next day and climbing isn't exactly happening without some of my new found best friend ibuprofin. The hiking across rock all day and constant impact is the worst for them. C'est la vie. It's all part of the game, and when you wager on the rock you sure as hell pay for it.
Tonight is movie night at the rock ranch. There is talk of Borat. If we watch that I don't know if Thomas will ever stop quoting it. hah. Now, though, I'll end this post here.
-Charlie
The climbing here is stupendous. At first it just stupifies; the "Oh my god" factor takes over and I find myself salivating over routes and sussing beta. The rock quality is mostly great, and the amount is huge with first ascents waiting to be had. This morning for example, I went with some friends Gustavo and Dingo to a good boulder called Ghetto Simulator - V2. I think it should hardly get a boulder grading... the problem is 20+ moves and over 10m long up this boulder. Whatever it is it's awesome! As I was talking about first ascents a climber named Jason Kehl put up a new problem behind Ghetto Simulator yesterday. This proud line visible from many areas had somehow remained unclimbed.
I spent the rest of the morning soaking up some vitamin D and working out the moves on a problem called "adjust you attitude." I got all the moves and now it comes down to linking them together: maybe with an adjustment of my attitude it will go... but probably not on this trip. Hopefully, though, on the way back north.
We will probably leave for Mexico on Friday morning, with hopes of crossing at the Columbia crossing (or possibly Laredo). Then we'll head south and take a bit of a break from the climbing bum lifestyle. I'll appreciate it and hopefully I'll come back to climbing with even more pysche. I know my heels will love the rest and lack of smashing.
On our first day I took a fall onto the rock and smashed my heels up good. I smashed em so good I couldn;t climb the next day and climbing isn't exactly happening without some of my new found best friend ibuprofin. The hiking across rock all day and constant impact is the worst for them. C'est la vie. It's all part of the game, and when you wager on the rock you sure as hell pay for it.
Tonight is movie night at the rock ranch. There is talk of Borat. If we watch that I don't know if Thomas will ever stop quoting it. hah. Now, though, I'll end this post here.
-Charlie
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
In Need of a Little Something Else
Red Rocks is a gorgeous desert landscape with hoards of Red and White Sandstone rising out of it's edges. There are countless multipitch trad routes and even more sport crags that line a 13 mile long scenic route in the heart of the desert. The area and our camp are protected from the Vegas strip and it's relentless light by a few small hills and subsequent valleys. We've spent our time mainly climbing on sport routes; that is, routes with bolts into the rock.
We've been mainly hitting up the countless sport crags. Surrounded by perfect overhanging red sandstone it's easy to feel overwhelmed. Every climb feels like a struggle to me. The pump in my forearms starts to feel unbearable and the ability to hold on fails. It's been making sending climbs pretty hard. Thus I haven't been as successful as I might have liked. But I'm getting stronger and that's a positive thing. But there's just something missing in me at the moment.
For me this place hasn't exactly been the site of great ambition or intensity. While I've climbed my fair share and done some things that I'm fairly stoked about I haven't really been on top of my game. It seems like I'm a bit in need of something else.
Realizing this lack of interest isn't the easiest thing to do. Esspecially when everyone around you is so stoked on climbing.
Because of this I found myslef taking a day off to do other things and be on my own. Something that I feel I need for some reason... it might have something to do with spending every minute of every day with people... the same people at that.
I took the day off and decided that I'd be productive... I picked up the guitar and started writing. Something I hadn't done in a while. What I came up with was a reflection of how I was feeling that morning.
We've been mainly hitting up the countless sport crags. Surrounded by perfect overhanging red sandstone it's easy to feel overwhelmed. Every climb feels like a struggle to me. The pump in my forearms starts to feel unbearable and the ability to hold on fails. It's been making sending climbs pretty hard. Thus I haven't been as successful as I might have liked. But I'm getting stronger and that's a positive thing. But there's just something missing in me at the moment.
For me this place hasn't exactly been the site of great ambition or intensity. While I've climbed my fair share and done some things that I'm fairly stoked about I haven't really been on top of my game. It seems like I'm a bit in need of something else.
Realizing this lack of interest isn't the easiest thing to do. Esspecially when everyone around you is so stoked on climbing.
Because of this I found myslef taking a day off to do other things and be on my own. Something that I feel I need for some reason... it might have something to do with spending every minute of every day with people... the same people at that.
I took the day off and decided that I'd be productive... I picked up the guitar and started writing. Something I hadn't done in a while. What I came up with was a reflection of how I was feeling that morning.
All of these things I want to do today,
"There's too little time" I always seem to say.
Thoughts scrambled as they permutate away
Lost in the hours as they decay.
Step up to the plate where ambtion waits,
To test the strength of my character traits.
What is it that my soul anticipates,
A feeling of success that only complicates?
I strive for a feeling of accomplishment.
A token of all the time that I've spent.
A selfish act that makes my mind content.
And in the end gives way to self contempt.
What a problem it is I face,
Too much privelege seems to be the case.
All the essentials of my life are in place
And now I waste my time, what a disgrace.
I think of all I've done recently.
I pollute the earth so complacently,
I do these things I want most wastefully.
All I seek is to do so decently.
We all want to do something meaningful,
Fill our glass so it ain't half full.
Make a change that might be helpful.
Quit doing the same as I feel so resentful.
It's all a matter of the heart.
To feel content is such an art.
We've all got to do something before we part.
I wrote a song, I guess that's a start.
I completed the day by shooting a number of rolls of film off in the desert, reading my book, writing in my journal and organizing my thoughts on the trip. While I may not have sent any climbs... that day was one of the most productive in a long time. I felt good and had a chance to just chill. Completely.
The constant feeling that what I am doing is so totally hypocritical of what I feel is the appropriate way to travel or to use our resources has led to some interesting thought and conversation among many like minded individuals. It's not necessarily making the trip feel negative... but it's giving me some more insight into how I will do things differently in the future. My reliance on money that I've saved and the tools that we've bought and brought along makes me feel like I could do things in a way that might remove this feeling of hypocracy.
While this might sound like a downer it's a pretty powerful thing to me. I'm still gonna rock it... and make the most out of the experience. It's one of those things that makes me feel like I'm figuring shit out... and I'm stoked on that.
Well, from here we head down to El Paso Texas. We'll climb at Hueco Tanks and suss out the situation in Mexico to see whether or not it's safe to head into central america.
Much love,
Thomas Sloss
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
The Vegas Strip Trip
So we left Bishop and made our way to Joshua tree for a day where we managed to get a bit of climbing in before deciding that Vegas might be more fun. We were right. We showed up late and ready to rock... the tired eyes turned bright and the Strip was electrifying. It may sound like we were on acid or something but we weren't... just drunk.
Our need to scale walls made for an entertaining night as Charlie and I wound up in hadcuffs with a taser pointed at us for traversing a brick wall... It turned out that the Cop just had a small Penis and was intending to extend it with a power trip. The constant stream of the word, "Fuck" was enough for me to know that we wouldn't be arrested, despite his constant reasureance that we'd spend the night in Jail. It turns out that a lack of professionalism really doesn't lend itself well to an effective power trip.
But the night went on and we found ourselves staying at the Excalibur Hotel Resort... in the parking lot. We were hoping we'd get the chance to invite some unsuspecting girls back to the hotel... and surprise them with a VW Bus. But no such luck... it turns out that broken english is more the way to go here. Or atleast a shower and some nice clothes.
We've decided to possibly change our plans on the course of the trip. For now we plan on entering Mexico within the next two weeks and trecking south to Panama to spend New Years on Costa Rica and then do the Utah portion of the trip afterwards. New Orleans and Habitat for humanity are therefore not out of the picture for February when the Dalhousie crew should be rolling in.
Anyways, my Library computer is seconds away from booting me off and loosing this post.
So I'll let you all know what the definite plans are for the next little while. So far Red Rocks is kick ass and,"somewhere near Barstow the drugs began to take hold".
Vegas is a Strip and a rather trippy one at that.
Thomas Sloss
Our need to scale walls made for an entertaining night as Charlie and I wound up in hadcuffs with a taser pointed at us for traversing a brick wall... It turned out that the Cop just had a small Penis and was intending to extend it with a power trip. The constant stream of the word, "Fuck" was enough for me to know that we wouldn't be arrested, despite his constant reasureance that we'd spend the night in Jail. It turns out that a lack of professionalism really doesn't lend itself well to an effective power trip.
But the night went on and we found ourselves staying at the Excalibur Hotel Resort... in the parking lot. We were hoping we'd get the chance to invite some unsuspecting girls back to the hotel... and surprise them with a VW Bus. But no such luck... it turns out that broken english is more the way to go here. Or atleast a shower and some nice clothes.
We've decided to possibly change our plans on the course of the trip. For now we plan on entering Mexico within the next two weeks and trecking south to Panama to spend New Years on Costa Rica and then do the Utah portion of the trip afterwards. New Orleans and Habitat for humanity are therefore not out of the picture for February when the Dalhousie crew should be rolling in.
Anyways, my Library computer is seconds away from booting me off and loosing this post.
So I'll let you all know what the definite plans are for the next little while. So far Red Rocks is kick ass and,"somewhere near Barstow the drugs began to take hold".
Vegas is a Strip and a rather trippy one at that.
Thomas Sloss
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Bishop (Fish Shop)
So much for our plan to get up Royal Arches... so much for getting up, period. The 5:30am alarm clock didn't quite do it's job, or maybe we just chose to ignore it. Regardless, by the time we woke up it was late... and we just weren't feeling it.
It's kind of been the story of the trip so far. Aside from a few special times we haven't been too successful in the whole alpine start category. We tend to go for the chill morning of food, coffee and a book. It's something I'm getting used to, and understandably so... but it's kind of a scary thought at the same time.
We left Yosemite on a Tuesday and headed south to Bishop California (a mecca of bouldering). We added a new member to the group in our Aussie buddy Rhys. We all fled what is camp 4, not because we don't like the place... but, for us, it isn't the time. We all seemed to be on the same page in terms of leaving behind the logistics of ropes and the uncertainty of a hand jam for the familiarity of hard bouldering.
At this point it's been almost three weeks that we've spent in the desert. High desert mind you... our camp is at 6,400 feet and is backed by mountains in the 13,000 ft range. It's spectacular to wake up before sunrise for that morning pee and watch the horizon's shadow slowly lower down the snowcapped peaks. I feel pretty lucky.
We're camped about 100m away from some of the best bouldering in the world (so I'm told) with a mountain fed stream running right beside us. We don't even have to worry about leaving food out... by far the most simplistic camping I've ever done.
This is the first stop on the trip that I really feel like I'm becoming a better climber. Bouldering is an amazing sport. It's not just about strength, but about figuring out the moves and the technique and putting everything together to get to the top. At the same time... one of the most important parts is keeping yourself in it mentally. Since leaving home I've bumped my hardest grade from v5 to v8... sending two v8's in one day. By Bishop standards I feel like I'm doing pretty well. It's funny how much easier I find it to be motivated to boulder. The simplicity of it just lends itself to late start, beers and just spending time with wicked people. Something I'm pretty happy to do.
We managed to summit Mt. Whitney during our stay. Five friends, Charlie and I took off on a 37 Km hike that rose over 7000 feet to the tallest summit in California at 14 495 feet. Walking that distance is a good go in itself... but when you throw in the sun and the altitude... it makes for a long day. One that had me puking by the end. But it's nothing that a good burger can't fix.
Aside from the bouldering and hiking we've done a fair amount of drinking, saunaing and hotspringing. A couple of friends from Vermont wound up camping with us and the brilliant idea of rolling hot rocks into a pile and then covering ourselves up with a tarp and proceding to douse them with water came into action. The amount of body water lost makes the hang over that much worse... I wound up puking that night too... I'm on quite a roll. But the show stopper has got to be the hot springs. Natural hot water from the ground, a pool and a bunch of beer. Pretty much sums it up.
I love this place and it hurts to leave. Today was the strongest day so far and I felt like I was making progress on a new climb. But alas we said we would leave... so off we go to Joshua Tree California. We'll be there for a few days and then head up to Las Vegas for a while. Red Rocks here we come.
Love you all.
Thomas Sloss
It's kind of been the story of the trip so far. Aside from a few special times we haven't been too successful in the whole alpine start category. We tend to go for the chill morning of food, coffee and a book. It's something I'm getting used to, and understandably so... but it's kind of a scary thought at the same time.
We left Yosemite on a Tuesday and headed south to Bishop California (a mecca of bouldering). We added a new member to the group in our Aussie buddy Rhys. We all fled what is camp 4, not because we don't like the place... but, for us, it isn't the time. We all seemed to be on the same page in terms of leaving behind the logistics of ropes and the uncertainty of a hand jam for the familiarity of hard bouldering.
At this point it's been almost three weeks that we've spent in the desert. High desert mind you... our camp is at 6,400 feet and is backed by mountains in the 13,000 ft range. It's spectacular to wake up before sunrise for that morning pee and watch the horizon's shadow slowly lower down the snowcapped peaks. I feel pretty lucky.
We're camped about 100m away from some of the best bouldering in the world (so I'm told) with a mountain fed stream running right beside us. We don't even have to worry about leaving food out... by far the most simplistic camping I've ever done.
This is the first stop on the trip that I really feel like I'm becoming a better climber. Bouldering is an amazing sport. It's not just about strength, but about figuring out the moves and the technique and putting everything together to get to the top. At the same time... one of the most important parts is keeping yourself in it mentally. Since leaving home I've bumped my hardest grade from v5 to v8... sending two v8's in one day. By Bishop standards I feel like I'm doing pretty well. It's funny how much easier I find it to be motivated to boulder. The simplicity of it just lends itself to late start, beers and just spending time with wicked people. Something I'm pretty happy to do.
We managed to summit Mt. Whitney during our stay. Five friends, Charlie and I took off on a 37 Km hike that rose over 7000 feet to the tallest summit in California at 14 495 feet. Walking that distance is a good go in itself... but when you throw in the sun and the altitude... it makes for a long day. One that had me puking by the end. But it's nothing that a good burger can't fix.
Aside from the bouldering and hiking we've done a fair amount of drinking, saunaing and hotspringing. A couple of friends from Vermont wound up camping with us and the brilliant idea of rolling hot rocks into a pile and then covering ourselves up with a tarp and proceding to douse them with water came into action. The amount of body water lost makes the hang over that much worse... I wound up puking that night too... I'm on quite a roll. But the show stopper has got to be the hot springs. Natural hot water from the ground, a pool and a bunch of beer. Pretty much sums it up.
I love this place and it hurts to leave. Today was the strongest day so far and I felt like I was making progress on a new climb. But alas we said we would leave... so off we go to Joshua Tree California. We'll be there for a few days and then head up to Las Vegas for a while. Red Rocks here we come.
Love you all.
Thomas Sloss
Sunday, October 12, 2008
The Road to the Valley
So we took off from Smith Rock after one final parking lot concert and cruised down to South Lake Tahoe. The home of moderate Traditional multi-pitch climbs. We got to work on our trad skills and boulder a little. But the weather caught up to us and we decided to get outta dodge and head to Yosemite Valley. Along the way we spend a night in South Lake Tahoe and I got my first Casino experience and realized that they are BOOOORING. Mind you that could have been because of that fact that I'm underage... therefore I couldn't drink and therefore there were no good looking women there. To tell the truth booze wouldn't have helped... there weren't even any remotely good looking women there.
From there we did a little bit of interesting orienteering, changed our luck with hitch-hikers (no felons this time) and drove a full lap around Lake Tahoe before heading south to the Valley. By this time it was getting cold and being at anywhere from 5000 to 9500 vertical feet doesn't help it too much. We spent a night just past Tioga Pass entering Yosemite Valley... and woke up with a little snow and some ice nearby. Something I wasn't really expecting at the beginning of October. The stunning views from the pass had eluded us at night, but now we could see the amazing granite monolith's that are the valley walls.
Our arrival at Camp 4 (the climbers camp) was the first time we'd had to pay for camping... also the first time that we realized it might have been a good idea to bring some girls along. Five dollars a night... the price of rent... and very few amenities. No soap, no mirrors, no hot water, no dishwashing sink, no music after 10pm and no rolling toilet paper rolls. Not to say that all of it is bad... because it isn't. The camp is full of amazing people, one angry drunk, wicked boulders and the overwhelming "Oh my buddah!" feeling.
Here we met up with a bunch of people we'd met previously on the trip, as well as a North Vancouver Crusher named Will Stanhope... what a slut. It's pretty cool to have a person like Will show us around and give us the downlow on the Valley. He let us in on one important piece of info... that being to avoid the most dangerous snake in the valley, the COBRA. A deadly 6% malt liquor that has invaded the Valley.
The climbing here is hard and interesting to get used to. So much for 5.12 bolts... how about 5.9 cracks. But it's a learning experience without a doubt. The downgrade hasn't held us back though... we managed to do some pretty cool routes. One of them called the Snake Dike (Snake Hike). This is the easiest climb up a prominent figure in the Valley, the Half Dome. Unfortunately only half of the dome has been completed at this point... maybe one day we'll be able to do the whole dome. This climb allowed us to do about 5000 vertical feed including hiking. It was a full day of hiking and climbing on easy runout routes. A number of pitches saw 30 meter runouts on5.7 slab or 5.4 polished dikes. Without a doubt a wicked way to get to the top of Half Dome without having to be an extremely competent crack climber or aider.
When we reached the top we heard what sounded like a fighter jet flying through the canyon. In fact it was a large rock slide above one of the villages. Luckily no people were hurt... but it was still a pretty awesome amount of power unleashed from the hillside.
This October has also been a pretty historic time in climbing history. We got to be here for a new free route variation called "The Secret Passage" climbed by a few guys we met at camp. These guys are some of the strongest climbers in the world. Even more epic was the fastest climb of the Nose on El Capitan. We were able to watch this from the meadow this morning. Most people spend close to 5 days on this route and Yuji and Hans managed to climb it in a stunning 2 hours and 36 minutes. Kinda "craZy" with a capital Zed.
Otherwise, I got to walk my second highline, in an area called the Rostrum. It was a little shorter than the one in Smith Rock but it was freaky none-the-less. The feeling of stepping into the void is pretty cool and never comfortable. But I did it and managed to even throw in a turn all the way up there with a thousand vertical feet to the Valley floor to one side.
Tomorrow Chuck and I are going to do a 16 pitch route called Royal Arches. Wish us luck. Talk to you all later.
-Thomas Sloss
From there we did a little bit of interesting orienteering, changed our luck with hitch-hikers (no felons this time) and drove a full lap around Lake Tahoe before heading south to the Valley. By this time it was getting cold and being at anywhere from 5000 to 9500 vertical feet doesn't help it too much. We spent a night just past Tioga Pass entering Yosemite Valley... and woke up with a little snow and some ice nearby. Something I wasn't really expecting at the beginning of October. The stunning views from the pass had eluded us at night, but now we could see the amazing granite monolith's that are the valley walls.
Our arrival at Camp 4 (the climbers camp) was the first time we'd had to pay for camping... also the first time that we realized it might have been a good idea to bring some girls along. Five dollars a night... the price of rent... and very few amenities. No soap, no mirrors, no hot water, no dishwashing sink, no music after 10pm and no rolling toilet paper rolls. Not to say that all of it is bad... because it isn't. The camp is full of amazing people, one angry drunk, wicked boulders and the overwhelming "Oh my buddah!" feeling.
Here we met up with a bunch of people we'd met previously on the trip, as well as a North Vancouver Crusher named Will Stanhope... what a slut. It's pretty cool to have a person like Will show us around and give us the downlow on the Valley. He let us in on one important piece of info... that being to avoid the most dangerous snake in the valley, the COBRA. A deadly 6% malt liquor that has invaded the Valley.
The climbing here is hard and interesting to get used to. So much for 5.12 bolts... how about 5.9 cracks. But it's a learning experience without a doubt. The downgrade hasn't held us back though... we managed to do some pretty cool routes. One of them called the Snake Dike (Snake Hike). This is the easiest climb up a prominent figure in the Valley, the Half Dome. Unfortunately only half of the dome has been completed at this point... maybe one day we'll be able to do the whole dome. This climb allowed us to do about 5000 vertical feed including hiking. It was a full day of hiking and climbing on easy runout routes. A number of pitches saw 30 meter runouts on5.7 slab or 5.4 polished dikes. Without a doubt a wicked way to get to the top of Half Dome without having to be an extremely competent crack climber or aider.
When we reached the top we heard what sounded like a fighter jet flying through the canyon. In fact it was a large rock slide above one of the villages. Luckily no people were hurt... but it was still a pretty awesome amount of power unleashed from the hillside.
This October has also been a pretty historic time in climbing history. We got to be here for a new free route variation called "The Secret Passage" climbed by a few guys we met at camp. These guys are some of the strongest climbers in the world. Even more epic was the fastest climb of the Nose on El Capitan. We were able to watch this from the meadow this morning. Most people spend close to 5 days on this route and Yuji and Hans managed to climb it in a stunning 2 hours and 36 minutes. Kinda "craZy" with a capital Zed.
Otherwise, I got to walk my second highline, in an area called the Rostrum. It was a little shorter than the one in Smith Rock but it was freaky none-the-less. The feeling of stepping into the void is pretty cool and never comfortable. But I did it and managed to even throw in a turn all the way up there with a thousand vertical feet to the Valley floor to one side.
Tomorrow Chuck and I are going to do a 16 pitch route called Royal Arches. Wish us luck. Talk to you all later.
-Thomas Sloss
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